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empress-simps · 1 month

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Scribbles and Sketches

Pairing: Sirius Black x Fem! Reader

CW: Just two idiots in love with each other and the occasional swearing.

Genre: Fluff with a sprinkle of angst

Summary: Sirius has a habit of drawing in every possession he owns. It also doesn’t help the fact that it’s the way his crush finds out his feelings.

Note: This is inspired back then when my crush (at that time) sat next to me did a sketch of me while in Biology class. Enjoy! Photos used are from pinterest, credits to the owner!

Sirius loves to doodle, whether it was little stars on his converse shoes, some random quotes he found funny that he decided to write in the back pages of his notebooks, or how there’s always a little scribble of ‘S.O.B’ on the first pages of his books (that he never really read, he just saw you once or twice holding or reading as you pass by him).

Walburga hates it, when she saw Sirius’ expensive hard bound books have his name scrawled out messily on the side, she was furious. She called it ‘Vandalizing’ and would punish Sirius back then for acting like a ‘mudblood’ and disgracing the beautiful pristine books with a childish scrawl.

Did he do it again numerous times before leaving to spite his birth giver? Yes, definitely, and certainly.

The night he left, he made sure to splash black paint onto the walls, carpets, and curtains— basically everywhere, he even managed to get the ceiling too. He could only imagine the horrified expression and the shrill scream Walburga did after discovering the thrashed room. A smirk of satisfaction never fails to appear on his face every time he thinks of it.

“Drawing her again, Pads?” James looked over Sirius’ shoulder, wanting to take a peek at his friend’s journal. Sirius hissed, shooing him away. “Go away, Prongs. I’m busy.” James lets out a snort, “Yeah right.”

“Just ask her out already, pads. You’re always ogling at her during classes it’s a bit creepy.” Peter teased, laughing at Sirius’ offended face.

“Sod off, wormtail.”

Remus took a break from reading his book to look at his squabbling friends. Seeing the journal in Sirius’ hands, he got curious. Placing the book down, he walked over to Sirius’ bed where James, Sirius, and Peter are. “That’s actually a pretty good sketch of her, mate.” Remus’ eyes travelled down to the right corner of the page, eyes bugging out at first then emitting a loud laugh.

“My future Mrs. Black? Really?”

Sirius grumbles, clearly embarrassed as a light blush coated his cheeks. “Don’t judge.”

“You’re such a sap, Pads!” James laughed, slapping his thighs repeatedly, finding it completely hilarious.

“Yeah, we’ll see who’s the one laughing on our wedding day.” Sirius grumbles, closing the journal and placing it in his school bag absentmindedly.

“If you even get to speak a simple ‘hello’ to her without tripping over your feet that is.”

The only thing keeping Sirius passing out and snoring in his boring Divination class is you humming next to him as you write in a blank piece of parchment. Merlin, he feels grateful and all that, but really? In the one subject he has no motivation for? Sirius grumbled; if it was transfigurations, then he could’ve shown off to you.

You didn’t fail to notice his grumbling state. Misunderstanding his actions, you thought it had something to do with you. Negative thoughts swirled around your head. Does he not like being your partner?

Putting your quill down, you felt nervousness settle in the pit of your stomach. You discreetly look to your left, seeing Sirius with a bored expression on his face. Alright, maybe you were overthinking things. He probably just finds this Divination class bollocks like you do, but you still folded the paper and placing it back into your bag, feeling a bit paranoid that he might see what you wrote.

Classes soon ended, and students hurriedly piled out, eager to get out of the boring class, muttering among themselves. You began to pack up your things, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw Sirius standing and about to exit the classroom.

“Sirius, wait!” You hurriedly grabbed him, your hands on his wrist. You blushed, trying to ignore how you felt butterflies erupt in your stomach and the tingles that you felt when you made contact with him.

A look of surprise and a light blush coated his cheeks. “Y-yeah...? What’s up?” He stuttered. Sirius heard his friends howl in laughter outside the door, clearly spying on them. Thank Merlin that you didn’t notice (or didn’t care if you did notice) as you smiled warmly at him.

“Um, so are you free this Saturday? I figured it would be best if we both worked together on the essay since... we’re partners…” Oh for the love of Merlin, please have mercy on these two people who are too coward to say they like each other. Sirius blinks—not once, not twice, but three times. You can hear Marlene snickering in the background at the exchange.

Was he hearing this right? You? Asking him out? (Okay, not really, but in his mind, it still counts as you asking him out) He was pulled out of his thoughts when you chuckled nervously, awaiting his reply. “Sirius...? You in there?” Sirius cleared his throat. "Erm, yeah! Yeah, see you at the library then?”

You smiled warmly, and Sirius thought he had been blessed by Merlin himself. “Yeah, see you at 9:00 a.m. Bye!” He watches you go to Marlene and Lily, both looking at him with knowing looks.

“Bye.” He breathes out, still looking at you.

“Merlin, Padfoot is whipped.” Peter shakes his head, smirking.

“That he is.” James laughed, watching a pink-faced Sirius make his way towards them. “Cat got your tongue, Pads?” James teased, elbowing Sirius who tried to shove him off. “More like Y/n got his tongue.” Peter snickered; Sirius turned redder.

“Nah, how could Y/n even get his tongue when he couldn’t even get a kiss on the cheek.” Remus laughed, joining in the teasing.

“You guys are terrible mates.”

“We love you too, Pads.”

You bit your lip, looking at both outfits sprawled out your bed. “Lily! Please help me pick one!” The said girl looked up from her charms essay, standing up and walking towards you.

“Are you going on a date, Y/n?”

“No, just doing some divination work with Sirius.”

Marlene perked up, her smirk evident on her features. “Are you sure it’s just divination? Not something else?” Lily scolded her “Oh hush Marlene! Y/n isn’t like that.” She turned to face you, “I think the red sweater and ripped jeans will look good on you.” She smiles, you smiled gratefully. “Thanks Lils, knew I could always count on you. Not like the other person here.” You teased, eyeing Marlene jokingly who pouted “Hey!”

Sirius groans, plopping down his bed. It seems like he couldn’t get a single wink of sleep. He tried everything, even taking a walk outside into the wee hours of the night. Remus throws a pillow at him, grumpier as the full moon is only days away. “If you don’t wanna sleep then at least let us get a fucking good night’s rest, Pads.”

He ignored his friend but kept quiet not to disturb his friends. “Merlin, the things you do to me woman...” he grumbled, rubbing his hand exasperatedly over his face. Opening his trunk, he decided to mull over what he was going to wear for the next day.

“Alright, do I look presentable?” You turn towards your two friends, dressed in the slightly oversized red sweater and ripped jeans Lily had recommended, topping it off with a maroon converse with little flowers and leaves embroidered around it. Pretty basic but eh, it works.

“Kinda meh, let’s put on some make up, yeah?” Marlene gestured to you to sit down, looking at the mirror, you frowned. “I only know how to do blush and lips though...”

“That’s where I come in, let’s make Black drop on his knees and fawn over you.”

Sirius glanced nervously at his watch, uncharacteristically quiet and early; he was a whole hour early, a huge change for the boy who’s always running late and calling it being ‘fashionably late’. By the way he was behaving it looks like he got stood up on a date, which was quite amusing to other students who are seeing this new side of him. Just sitting and having nothing to do makes him even more impatient, so he did what he did best— sketching you.

He took out his journal which he surprisingly brought and took out a pencil and an eraser he stole from Remus. He pictures you in his head, how you hum while scribbling something in a parchment next to him during your last divination class. He started to sketch, expertly drawing you as he did hundreds of times before. It took him about an hour to finish it, even having the time to detail it. He smiles lightly, adding ‘My love.’ in the right corner. It was not just some sketch as he likes to call it, it’s an art piece.

You are his muse— much like he is to your poems.

“Sirius, hey.” You smiled, sitting down beside him quietly, oblivious to a drawing he made that was practically glaring at you, waiting to be noticed. “Sorry I was late.”

Sirius blinks, looking at you “Ah, it’s no problem! I just got here too.” you smiled, pulling out some quills and parchment they would need for the study session as Sirius grabbed the books from his bag. What you both failed to notice was the little piece of parchment containing a painfully obvious poem about him.

Ah, talk about being blindly in love.

“Alright, let’s get this over with. I would seriously drop out of this class next year...” She mumbles, grabbing Sirius’ books without much of a thought.

“I’ll go start with the reading about tea leaf reading then- what’s that?” She stopped in her tracks, staring at what seemed to be a perfect drawing of her. Sirius blanched, feeling his heart drop to his stomach. Shit, you were definitely not supposed to see that. Sirius wanted to cry and disintegrate on the spot.

Your eyes scanned the page quickly, eyes catching the words “My Love” in the corner in Sirius’ handwriting. Your face quickly heated up as your heartbeat went faster, your stomach doing flips. You were speechless, eyes gravitated to the drawing. Sirius quickly slammed shut his journal, pulling you out of your trance.

“It’s not what it looks like!” He tries to save face. Although he immediately wanted to punch himself as he saw you visibly deflate at his statement. He can already feel Remus whacking him upside the head while James scolded him. As if Potter boy would do any better when facing Lily Evans. You bit your lip “Oh.”

An awkward silence ensued for a few moments, Sirius looking anywhere but you and you looking down biting your lip. “Uh, I know you said it’s not what it looks like…” You started, making Sirius whip his head in your direction. “But I just wanted to tell you… That I fancy you.” She saw the poem she wrote during divination class poking out of some of the blank parchments, Marlene and Lily had probably placed it among your parchments. She carefully hands it to him. “I’ll just do the rest of the essay, don’t worry. I know you don’t like this subject.” She quickly packed her things up and headed straight to the exit.

He sat there dumbly, reading the poem you gave to him, eyes widening when he realized it was quite obvious that the love poem was about him. Merlin, he done fucked up his chances of being with the girl of his dreams.

Seemingly out of nowhere, Remus grabbed his wrist and dragged him to a section of the library where not many people are to see the rest of the Marauders with disappointed looks on their faces. “Really, padfoot?” James frowned. “You’ve done it, pads.” Peter sighs, shaking his head.

“Just what the fuck was that, Black?!?” Remus hissed, Sirius bit his lip and looked away. “Lily told me how Y/n was excited, she’ll kill us for sure.” James shivered while Peter gulps “Don’t forget about Marlene.”

“Did your exchange your braincells for your fucking hair, padfoot?!” Remus still hasn’t finished scolding his friend. “I know I know, Moony. I fucked up.” He grumbles, looking at his Doc Martens. “To think that we even planned this with Lily and Marlene…” Remus grumbles.

“What? What plan?”

“Setting you up with Y/n, we thought this will be the perfect time.” James told him, “Apparently not” Remus grumbles. “Y/n’s got a crush on you for ages, Pads.” Peter told him. “And how would you know this?” Sirius found it hard to believe.

“Aside from the fact that she practically confessed to you earlier, Lily accidentally slipped up and told me.” James shrugged. They watch as Sirius practically scrambles out of the library, presumably off to find you. Remus folded his arms to his chest.

“Well at least he saved one braincell just in case.”

“Y/n! Hold on!” Sirius called, seeing you were about to enter the girls’ part of the dormitory. You ignored him, continuing to walk. He managed to catch up, holding your hand to stop you. “Y/n please…” You turned to him, eyes swimming with disappointment. “What is it, Black?” He visibly winced. “I-I take it back.” He told her, you raised one eyebrow in suspicion, “Take what back?”

“What I said earlier, in the library.”

“I don’t need you to feel bad for me.”

“I’m not, believe me.”

You pressed your lips into a thin line, conflicted. Should you believe him?

“I’ve also been hopelessly in love with you, Y/n.” Your eyebrows shot in surprise. He continued, “I… I was so embarrassed and panicked since… my journal was full of you.” Sirius confessed. You were about to reply when he opened his mouth again. “And your poem; fuck, it made me feel things. Merlin, I’m so stupid, I’m so sorry love-”

“If you really are sorry then just shut up and kiss me, Black.”

#sirius black x reader #sirius black fluff #sirius x reader #sirius x y/n #marauders fanfiction #marauders era #remus lupin #james potter #sirius black #peter pettigrew #marauders fic #harry potter #padfoot #moony wormtail padfoot and prongs

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myheadphonesareneverloudenough · 2 months

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i have this idea/possible au in my head and its been floating around for a while. it came to me when i realised that there were 5 lords in black and 5 nerdy prudes (including steph), and i thought what if these poor kids were each haunted by one of the LiB...

Ruth with Pokey, because of her love for theatre and dreams of being the star of a show. pokey would find her weak spot by offering her the role of a lifetime, her chance to be in the spotlight for once. i also have a hc for ruth that she has some form of ocd, and pokey has an affinity for everything to be perfect and in order, too.

Grace with Blinky, because her family and upbringing has taught her that everything she does in her life is under critical review. in grace's mind, she's always being watched anyways. she is always being judged or judging herself based on her actions and the "sins" she does/doesnt commit. honestly, she's so freaked out by doing the right thing at all times, she might already be watched by blinky.

Pete with Tinky, mostly because of that Spankoffski connection. of course, tinky wants to have the whole collection. ive thought a lot about how if ted is the time bastard, its likely that tinky would appoint his little brother as the space bastard. i hc pete to have a lot of social anxiety issues (im projecting) and believe me, it would be hell of a lot easier if space and time were on his side now and again.

the last two took some thinking. so bear with me.

Steph with Nibbly. not just because of nibblys "yum yum" line, or the very popular headcanon that steph's mother was honey queen (i still believe that she was, btw). but i think as the mayor's daughter, steph was raised to be very aware of her public image, that includes how she is perceived AND who she is associated with. before pete came into the picture, she probably had a lot of exes within the "cool kids" dating pool. someone she can be with for a few weeks to keep up her status, suck them dry until she couldn't bare to be with someone she didnt actually love, and then move onto the next. additionally, she probably has an idea in her head that she has to make herself "desirable" in order to keep up with the cool kids. between her hunger for attention, her father's hunger for success, and the overall high school hunger for popularity, nibbly would find a lot of places in steph to tap into.

lastly, Richie and Wiggly. and no, this has nothing to do with Jon playing both characters. richie, in my eyes, is a child at heart. not that he's immature or anything, but he just has a love for the simpler things. he likes anime and sci fi films. and, sure, he's smart and likes science, but he's not looking forward to college like his other nerdy friends. part of him wants to stay a kid forever, a feeling he would grow out of in time, but not before wiggly could take a stab at him. wiggly puts himself into a doll, for fucks sake. wiggly wants power and control, and richie wants his friends to stick around. wiggly wouldn't have to try very hard to befriend richie through his love of "childish" things, and from there he could "help" richie make sure his friends never, ever, leave.

im not sure how this would go, but the LiB each picking a different member of this friend group would cause a lot of competition down in the Black, and put a lot of strain on the relationships up in Hatchetfield.

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zeltqz · 2 years

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𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐃 — 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐫𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐨

୨⎯ fem!reader. smut. wc: 2k. minors do not interact. mikey's friends helps you plan out a beach day and forces mikey to show up. mikey thinks he's being a pervert. but in actuality reader is doing it on purpose.

“I’m not wearing that.” Mikey deadpans at the coral print shorts Sanzu is holding up currently. It’s bad enough that Mikey is being forced to stop his work and come out to the fucking beach—now his stupid colleagues are trying to dress him up too.

“It’s cute though!” Sanzu protests.

“You wear it then.” Mikey deadpans, then looks at the big hand that’s just been placed on his shoulder.

Ran smacks the coral shorts from Sanzu’s hands and tosses it to the ground; earning a hard earned scowl from the pink haired male himself. “Put that childish shit away” Ran somehow magically pulls out a tiny speedo from what Manjiro thinks is thin air and hands it gently to Mikey, as if it’s some sacred artifact. “Here, bless the guests with this.”

“You’re both ridiculous. I’m staying in this, and that's that.”

‘This’ consisted of a simple black tank top and matching long black shorts. It was a plain fit, compared to all his friends who’d decided to come shirtless, but Mikey didn’t mind.

He liked plain.

Besides, it’s not like he had anybody to impress. It was just him and his frien—

“You’re finally here! God, we thought you’d never come.”

There’s no way. There’s absolutely no way. Mikey looks up at Ran who refuses to make eye contact; instead, opting on waving you and your friends over.

The sound of footsteps gets louder and before you collide into Mikey, arms wrapping around his body as you hug him from behind. “It’s nice to see you outside finally.” You speak into the back of his shirt, oblivious to the blush creeping up on his face from the close proximity.

“Yeah…” Everything stands still for Mikey, even his lungs—refusing to take another breath until you’re at least a couple miles away from him.

Your best friend, Maki, moves past the two of you, straight into the boot of Koko’s car. She tugs the back of Rindou’s shirt, pulling him back towards her, close enough for a whisper. “Did you…bring the stuff?” She asks, looking at the booth, highly disappointed in the contents.

It’s just a blue cooler, filled with ice and water and popsicles. Nothing amazing. Rindou smiles down at her, the look on his face has her grinning also as she watches him reach into his pocket, pulling out a packet of brownies.

“Ooh!” Maki reaches out for it only for Rindou to pull back just as fast, lifting it over his head.

“You’re insane if you think they’re getting in your hands.”

“Wha-why?! I asked for them!”

Mikey drowns out the rest of their conversation and tries his hardest not to focus on the sight of you, standing unnervingly close to him, the bare skin on your arms rubbing against his own, and he suddenly regrets wearing a tank top.

“Are you excited?” You turn to face him with a smile on your face as you walk over to grab the big cooler from the boot of the car. The others have already started to make their way into the beach, leaving just you and Manjiro alone together.

Mikey can’t help but think it’s a little weird that they’ve suddenly just “disappeared” into the distance. Sanzu most definitely would’ve waited for Mikey to walk in first, but he shoved that thought aside and subtly takes the cooler from your hands, seeing as you were struggling with it.

“Thanks Mikey,” you grab onto his shoulder and squeeze it, gently, giving him your best smile.

He ignores the way his heart stutters at the action and your smile. “Yeah, no problem.” It’s astonishing just how easily he lifts the cooler the long distance from the car to the empty beach spot.

“Whys it so empty?” Sanzu complains at the lack of people, only a family in the distance, watching their kid cautiously as he picks shells from the ocean.

“Probably because it’s Sunday.” Koko responds, taking out his sunglasses. “Now, nobody talk to me. I want to tan.”

“I wanna get a tan too.” Maki slips off her shirt revealing her bikini underneath. She flops down next to Koko and pushes him to get more room on the thin blanket Koko brought.

“Okay, well, I gotta go.” Ran comments, giving you a look that Mikey cannot decipher. You nod your head and start looking through your purse, smiling when you bring out sunscreen.

“Mikey, can you help me out this on?” You blink at him, holding the blue bottle out in front of him. Mikey is about to protest, telling you to ask someone else to help you but Ran is dragging the others away to some random part of the empty beach. Mikey turns to face Koko who simply shakes his head at him, lifting a hand to tell him no.

“Well?”

Mikey makes the mistake of looking into your eyes once more, seeing the pure desperation it holds as you wiggle the bottle in front of you. “Okay, fine.”

“Thanks Mikey!” You contemplate giving him a kiss on the cheek, but realise that might be a little too far. You sit down on the sand, a hand darting out to wrap around Mikey’s wrist, pulling him down to the ground with you.

You remain staring at him the entire time he opens the bottle and squirts some sunscreen on his hands, rubbing his palms together before lifting your arm up to gentle rub the lotion into your skin.

It’s the second time today he’s made the mistake of staring at your face, how you don’t take your eyes off him the entire time. He looks down to see the sunscreen has completely dissolved, the white colour now disappearing and leaving your arm back to its original tone.

You don’t hesitate lifting your other arm up for him to do the same.

This isn’t that bad. Mikey thinks. He thought it would’ve been way worse.

Oh, how wrong he was.

You turn around, unbuttoning your t-shirt and toss it next to you, then turn around and back yourself way too close for comfort. The curve of your ass rubbing against his shorts as you peek over your shoulder and politely ask him to rub your back.

Mikey swallows.

Like actually gulps.

He eyes the skin on your back, only a thin laced strap connecting the bikini top—only that flimsy material stopping himself from seeing your body.

He doesn’t respond, instead gets to work, grabbing more sunscreen and rubbing it against his fingers.

Your back arches from the coldness of the sunscreen, but the warmth from his hands plus the scorching sun warms your back up in no time. He makes quick work, rubbing the lotion across your bare back, slipping his fingers through the strap of your bikini top to get that area too.

Once he reaches your shoulders, you tilt your head to the side slightly to give him easier access before letting out a soft sigh. “Your hands feel so good, Manjiro.”

“They do?”

“Yeah.”

Mikey doesn’t respond to that. He doesn’t know what to respond. So he stays silent. You initially frown and look over to your friend who shrugs, not knowing what to do either.

It’s so hard to win Manjiro‘s heart. You’ve been trying for almost two years and he either ignores all your advances, or is too oblivious to them.

“All done.” Mikey lifts his hands off your shoulders and you smile at him before looking around, thinking of Plan B. He watches you scramble over to the cooler a couple feet away from you, and tries to keep his eyes anywhere but your body. (Your bikini is currently sticking to your ass, leaving one cheek completely exposed).

His eyes widen once he realises it, looking up at the sky instead, or maybe the ocean looks better? But from the corner of his eye, he can see you kneel as you scour through the cooler, grabbing a popsicle.

Two popsicles, actually.

You grab a strawberry one for you, an orange one for him. You crawl your way back to where he is, eagerly handing him the sweet treat.

“Thanks…” He takes it from you but doesn’t open it. You, on the other hand, eagerly unwrap it and lay down on your back, exposing your body to the sun.

It’s probably not ideal to eat laying down. But you don’t care. You’re getting desperate at this point.

“Koko, how’s life going?” You ask, unwrapping the popsicle and taking slow licks from bottom to top. You can feel his eyes on yours—well, on your tongue, flattening it out as you take even slower licks, sucking on the top every time you reach it.

Mikey completely drowns out the conversation between you, Maki and Kokonoi. Instead, he watches with intense focus as your lips wrap around the tip, pushing the popsicle further down your throat.

No normal person eats a popsicle like this.

Right?

No one tries to literally deep throat it. Mikey is confused, but he doesn’t question it, instead tried to not focus on his cock twitching through his shorts.

Fuck, look somewhere else. It’s hard, but he finally rips his eyes away from you, instead, scanning the beach for signs of his friends.

On the far end of the beach, Ran and his brother are teaching some kid how to build a sand castle whilst Sanzu kicks it, causing the kid to cry after a couple moments.

Idiots. Mikey thinks, bringing his gaze back over to the people around him. Maki stands up and stretches, mumbling something before running over to stop Sanzu from breaking that kids heart.

Koko sighs, following after her.

Now it’s just you two.

You turn and face him, popsicle still in your mouth, before you take it out, very slowly. Slow enough for Mikey to see the leftover juice stain your lips red. You lick at your lips, trying to remove it all before you notice the melted popsicle in Mikey’s hand.

“You didn’t eat it! Now it’s melted.” You complain, pointing at the treat.

Mikey simply lifts it up, and shrugs. “Oh.”

“You can have mine, if you want.” You hold yours out to him and Mikey looks at you, wondering if this is some sick joke. You’re looking at him, dead serious, as you hand it to him.

He holds it up for a while, not breaking eye contact with you, and the popsicle starts to dribble red down his arm. “Oh, fuck.” Mikey hands you back the popsicle and is about to wipe the juice from his arm before you hold it out and stop him.

He wonders what you’re doing, eyes blowing out of his skull when he sees your tongue dart out, licking a long stripe from bottom to top, stopping at his index finger, waiting a couple moments before releasing your mouth from the tip.

Neither of you say anything, or do anything.

It’s silent as Mikey takes a second to just process what the fuck.

“Okay—fuck, come here.” He wipes his hands on his shorts, grabs your hips and pushes you onto his lap. You giggle into the kiss, hands cupping his face as you moan softly into his mouth when his hands slide down from your hips down to your ass.

“Finally.” You mutter into his lips, breaking the brief makeout to sloppily kiss along the column of his throat. You can feel his Adam’s apple twitch as he swallows, a shaky exhale leaving his lips as his hands come up to your hair to grab at it.

“How long were you acting oblivious?” You mumble against his skin, sliding your hands up and down his chest before slipping them under his shirt to feel him.

“I wasn’t—fuck—acting—” He groans when you rub his cock through his shorts and bite at the skin on his neck at the same time.

“Sure you were.” You giggle, making him swallow once more because your lips tickle and vibrate against his skin.

You push him down onto the ground, successfully straddling him as you grind your hips down against his hard cock. You lean down once more, taking his lips in a heated kiss.

It’s not until a loud car honks by the car park that you break the kiss, to look up. A bunch of cars have now pulled up, now the beach will be full.

“Great.” You sigh, getting off his lap. “Maybe next time?” You brush the hair away from his face, leaning down once more to kiss at his lips before pulling away.

“Yeah, next time.”

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alwaysahiccupandastrid · 17 days

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I know I’ve spoken about my issues with ‘Peter Pan and Wendy’ (2023) before, both in my initial thoughts post about the film after it released and a couple of smaller comments since, but I’ve realised something this past week after rewatching the original Disney cartoon and the 2003 non-Disney live-action while sick, and I feel I need to talk about it.

It’s about Wendy Moira Angela Darling.

While I stand by that Ever Anderson was one of the highlights of the film and that she did a great job as Wendy, the Wendy in the film is not really the Wendy seen in Barrie’s book, nor the one in the play and other films adaptations. It’s a very different character in a lot of ways, and while it’s normal for characters to differ from adaption to adaptation - especially over the course of 70+ years - I feel like the Wendy seen in the 2023 is more like Jane, Wendy’s daughter, from Disney’s Return to Neverland sequel in 2002.

Let me preface by saying that I actually love Jane in the sequel as a character - I see a lot of myself in her, and while the sequel in itself is not really my favourite, I do have some nostalgia for it because I grew up with it and it’s a cute little story. I like that Jane is actually different from Wendy in a lot of ways; she’s a lot more headstrong and more of a tomboy, and while she’s also a storyteller at times like her mother (mostly to her brother Danny), she is a lot more practical I think and seems to be opposite to Wendy in that she’s trying to grow up too fast. Wendy believes in Peter Pan and doesn’t want to grow up, meanwhile Jane believes Peter Pan to be silly childish nonsense, that she has to grow up quickly and be more adult due to the war/her father being away - Wendy says to her, “you think you’re very grown up - but you have a great deal to learn”.

Obviously the 2023 Wendy doesn’t want to grow up, that’s still the same, but in terms of personality, temperament and the way she treats her brothers after the broken mirror incident (blaming John for it), she reminds me more of Jane than Wendy. Like Jane, she also doesn’t seem to have a good time going to Neverland (at least not at first?) and she seems to take on a lot more action than Wendy did in the animated film.

Of course, it’s not the first time that we’ve seen Wendy wielding a sword and fighting pirates - the 2003 Wendy was shown to play with wooden swords and use real ones, even remarking, “who are you to call me ‘girlie’?!”. I’m not saying that Wendy can’t be a sword wielding girl and fight because she can, it’s one of the additions I love the most about the 2003 film.

The problem with the 2023 version of Wendy is not her being a main character (she has always been a main character), nor her sword fighting and being generally bad-ass - it’s the erasure of the other qualities that make her Wendy Darling.

One of Wendy’s primary character traits is her mothering nature - she is very motherly to her brothers, and when she hears that the Lost Boys don’t have a mother, she’s aghast and agrees to be their mother. The whole “Peter is father, Wendy is mother” idea is clearly a reference to how kids in the playground will play games like “mummies and daddies” - kids imitating what they see around them. It’s all a big pretend game in Neverland for fun. It’s also undeniable that Wendy pretending to be the Lost Boys’ mother is clearly reflective of her own mother, who she adores and is portrayed as the loveliest lady ever, and how she’s imitating Mrs Darling in a lot of ways during this “game” - singing to them, telling them stories, medicine etc.

Some would argue that Wendy is “forced” into being the “mother” and that while all the boys are off having fun, she’s left playing house, which I understand. But what a lot of modern audiences and filmmakers don’t understand these days is that motherhood is NOT an anti-feminist idea - there seems to be this view that portraying a girl wanting to be a mother or expressing the wish to be married/have children is some old-fashioned misogynistic notion, which is absolutely bizarre to me.

As a feminist myself, I believe that there is no clear cut definition of “womanhood” or what it means to be a strong woman with autonomy. Some women want to have careers and not have children, and that’s fine; some women want to have children, that’s fine; some women want both, and that’s fine. What matters is that it’s the woman who is deciding what she wants.

For me, Wendy has always been this remarkable and extraordinary character to look up to because she chooses to grow up - and for her, that means having her own children to tell her stories to. That’s what she wanted, that’s why she went back to England, and that’s part of her character arc, realising that by growing up she has things to look forward to.

For some reason, when 2023!Wendy thinks “happy thoughts” to make herself fly when being walked off the plank, her vision for the future that she looks forward to involves piloting automobiles that haven’t even been invented yet and then dying alone? Which… I mean, if that’s how someone wants to live then fair enough but that’s not Wendy. That’s not the Wendy Darling I grew up loving.

A lot of my issues with the 2023 version of Wendy do in fact link with other issues of the film in general: the Lost Boys including girls, for example. Like I get wanting to be inclusive, and I 100% wanted to be a Lost Girl growing up, but the Lost Boys are boys for a reason (“girls are much too clever to fall out of their prams”), and when Wendy arrives it’s a huge deal because they’ve never actually lived with girls before, and the only concept of girls they have is their memories of “mother”, which is why Wendy becomes their mother figure - because they literally don’t have any other female figures in their lives to compare her to other than the tiny scraps they remember of their mothers.

There’s also the issue of the thing prompting Wendy not wanting to grow up being changed; in the original, it’s because it’s her last night in the nursery and moving from the nursery - aka the room she has spent her entire life thus far in - to her own room is a HUGE transitional worry that a lot of kids probably go through (usually it’s in the form of moving from toddler beds to big kid beds but still). In the 2023 version, she’s being sent off to boarding school for some reason which doesn’t really make sense to me because the Darling parents a) are so poor they have to have a dog as a nursemaid and b) love their children so much that they would never do that to them. I’m not saying that being shipped off to boarding school ISN’T a worry for a young girl or a huge deal, but it isn’t one that I think necessarily fits with the story.

There’s the fact that Wendy is no longer the storyteller; in most versions, the reason Peter visits the nursery is because he likes her stories. Instead, the reason he comes to the nursery is not because he likes her stories but because he used to live in the house? And instead of bringing her to Neverland to tell stories, he comes to take Wendy away as he apparently heard her saying she didn’t want to grow up? It just doesn’t sit right with me, but maybe that’s just my opinion.

Also, for some reason, Wendy and Peter don’t actually seem to like each other at all in the 2023 version - I’m not saying there should have been romantic hints or whatever, but even just in a friendship way they really don’t seem to care in any way about each other. They just seemed rather indifferent towards each other, and it’s kind of jarring to see.

In some ways, I feel like 2023 Wendy was made a little too bad ass and on the nose super feminist: “this magic belongs to no boy!”, slapping Peter across the face (which was just…??? Why?!?!), constantly criticising Peter/Neverland, having WAY more action and heroic moments than Peter Pan himself… maybe in a different story it could have worked but for this one, it came across forced at times, like they were intentionally trying to show “look! Look how badass she is! She can fight off grown men all by herself! She doesn’t need a boy to help her! She can do everything by herself!”

This is why I feel like the 2003 version of Wendy is the best one (so far): while they modernised her slightly by making her sword fight and express an ambition to write novels about her adventures, she was still a storyteller and motherly figure to the Lost Boys/her brothers. For me as a child, seeing Wendy be the storyteller and her journey of acceptance about having the grow up was really important to me because I could completely relate to it.

Of course, I recognize I’m very biased because this is the one I grew up with (along with the animated Wendy of course) so I’d be interested to hear other people’s thoughts!

#peter pan #peter pan and wendy #wendy darling #neverland #jm barrie #j.m. barrie #disney #peter pan 2003 #peter pan 2023

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balillee · 2 months

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had to turn back to tumblr after a year of not using it to hate on the new atla adaptation

a few things

speedrunning through half of the story with the fire nation family is not a good idea, actually. lu ten was introduced far too early, and with it you delve into iroh's backstory, motivations and true character before you've even fully developed the whole 'silly old spiritual man who prefers tea and hanging out with his nephew over hunting down an 11-year old air nomad'. the lu ten funeral scene was fine as an addition, but it's not something for book 1. learning about lu ten is something we do in book 2 as it compliments the developing relationship between iroh and zuko with the fire nation as a whole. also, iroh seems a lot less cool. the show commits the grievous literary sin of always telling rather than showing, and by continuously telling us 'he's the famed general iroh, dragon of the west' you're not actually accomplishing anything. let him redirect some lightning you fucking cowards.

azula also seemed to exist for no reason. any of the correspondences to azula from zhao could have bypassed her entirely and could have gone straight to ozai or even the fire sages. she exists in season 1 purely to rush through explaining zuko and iroh far too early. the show exists as a guideline. FOLLOW THE GUIDELINE. THE GUIDELINE IS GOOD. EVERYONE KNOWS THE GUIDELINE IS GOOD. also make her fire blue. cowards

aang does not waterbend for the entire season, which means the window of opportunity for him to learn to bend the other elements before the arrival of sozin's comet is even shorter than in the original show. even the original aang, who the netflix adaptation changed because he was 'too childish and always goofing off instead of getting to the point' understood his responsibilities to learn the elements better than this new live action version - part of the reason for the gang to get to the northern water tribe was to find aang a teacher (not just katara), master pakku, because katara was not capable of teaching him at her novice waterbending level but even so they were still seen practicing together on multiple occasions.

this brings me to my next point. WHERE THE FUCK IS JEONG JEONG. aang in the original series understood the urgency of defeating the firelord before sozin's comet after speaking to roku very early on, not as late as depicted in the adaptation. currently, the gang don't even know that they're on a time crunch, and yet still the show refuses to let them take their time by going on side adventures. this leads into the episode where aang meets jeong jeong and tries to learn to firebend before he's even started earthbending at all, because he's still scared that he only has a year to master the elements. he burns katara while trying, which is the reason she learned she had the power to heal with her waterbending, we see how fucking sick jeong jeong is at firebending for the first time during the fight with zhao, and aang swears off learning firebending at all, which is one of his main points of conflict leading all the way into book 3. if we skip that whole episode, we have skipped meeting one of the members of the order of the white lotus. the show could think it's slick by omitting him to just have iroh as the white lotus' firebender, but that's possibly one of the worst changes they've made. the deserter was not a filler episode.

i know a lot of people were talking about this before the show even came out, but sokka is not sokka. in book 1, sokka is three things - funny, overconfident and sexist. in the live adaptation, he is kind of one of those three things. part of why sokka's arc is one of my personal favourites from the original show is the stark change you see from the start to the end of his story - he believes himself a leader but has no real tactical or combative experience despite telling all the fighters and warriors he meets about how impressive he is. and then at the end of the show he is a definitively strong leader, shown by leading the assault on the fire nation armada - his team being two of the show's most competent female characters, who he trusts and respects with his life. by omitting these traits from sokka's character, you remove a big part of why he's even there in the first place - his arc's beginning allows him to become the fearless leader that lead his team to defeating the fire nation army.

i also hate that aang meets monk gyatso in the spirit world. a big part of aang's conflict about running away is that there exists nobody in the world who can tell him that what happened to the air nomads was not his fault, and that there was nothing aang could do to stop it if he was there. the new adaptation decides against the inclusion of one of aang's primary internal conflicts by changing the 'running away from his responsibilities as the avatar because he's a terrified child' to 'getting some air', and then throws in meeting the spirit of monk gyatso to tell him all of these things that aang needs to learn on his own. once again, telling rather than showing.

and finally, my least favourite change - the agni kai. part of the reason why i personally think the agni kai is so significant to zuko's story is the fact that zuko intentionally refuses to fight. in the adaptation, zuko fights back against his father, and his father scars him simply because zuko hesitates. in the original series, zuko bows to his father and pleads for mercy, and refuses to fight at all, and that is when it cuts away to iroh and azula's very differing reactions to the altercation, zuko screaming in the background. the setting also irritates me, because in the original, the agni kai was a public spectacle for hundreds to see in an ominous chamber, while in the new show it looked like just a regular old family gathering in the sun. zuko's adaptation scar i also hate because it doesn't even look like a scar. it looks like a birthmark, or at best, a black eye. if you hadn't seen the original, you would only know that it's a scar because the show tells you that it's a scar. zuko's scar in the animated series is a definite physical deformation of his face, his face looks red and raw, and his eye is smaller likely due to how the tissue healed, and as the show goes on you learn that the severity of his physical scars reflect the severity of his emotional ones. the original show does a brilliant job at showing how, just through the scar and the banishment alone, that despite zuko's beliefs, his father has betrayed him time and time again.

#atla #netflix atla #avatar the last airbender #avatar live action #atla live action

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thetrinketbox · 9 months

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Drunk again off another crush (Kensei x Reader)

I wrote this for Kensei’s birthday and because he looks so hot in the new anime episodes. My man needs more fics about him! Also available on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49015216 "Congratulations!" "Yeah, who'd've thought an idiot like you would figure out bankai?" "Three cheers for lieutenant Hisagi!" The boisterous cheering filled the bar, a crowd of shinigami clustered together like a flock of crows in their black uniforms. They clinked their glasses together for the umpteenth time that night, Hisagi grinning like a schoolboy. "Thanks, guys!" he said, his cheeks somewhat redder than usual and his hair all mussed up from Ikkaku and Renji constantly ruffling it, like you would to a puppy. From your little corner of the bar, you watched all this going on, trying to look happy about it even as your mood sank lower and lower as the noise and celebrating grew louder. It seemed churlish to feel left out. This was Hisagi's moment, not yours, a celebration of a milestone that not many shinigami ever achieve. You were happy for him; you knew how hard he'd been working to master it and improve his relationship with Kazeshini. When you'd first heard that he'd finally done it, there had been no doubt in your mind that he'd always had what it took. But although you'd helped to arrange this little celebration, even hanging up some of the decorations with some people from Ninth (you weren't even part of Hisagi's division), and though he'd thanked you when you congratulated him and even given you a quick hug that made you feel all tingly, that was about all that had been said. His friends had arrived, first Kira, Renji and Kira and then later Ikkaku, Yumichika, Iba and Rangiku and he'd been swept up in a little bubble comprised of lieutenants (or near enough, in Ikkaku and Yumichika's cases) and suddenly it was like you didn't exist anymore. Like you said, it seemed childish to complain that Hisagi wasn't paying attention to you. You understood he'd obviously mostly want to spend time with his closest friends, the ones who had fought alongside him the longest and seen him in action the most. Seeing their happiness at his success truly was an amazing thing.

But...was it unreasonable you felt left out? Envious? Wishing you could even come close to having companions that cared so much about you? You didn't think it was, so you'd turned to the nearest available source of comfort - alcohol. You were several drinks in now and even though you'd tried to look like you were enjoying yourself, you could feel yourself growing more and more distressed and isolated, sitting nursing a drink you'd stopped actually drinking a while ago, which had turned unpleasantly watery now that the ice cubes had melted, and you weren't drunk enough for that not to matter to you. You pushed it aside in faint disgust, but now you didn't even have the excuse of not wanting to spill your drink - now you were just sitting here feeling abandoned and stupid. As Kira poured Hisagi another drink, you caught something flicker in your peripheral vision and turned your head to see a captain's robe, a stark contrast to all the black uniforms. Shit, when had Muguruma gotten here? Or wait, he'd been here before, hadn't he? That's right - Mashiro had gotten her hands on a whole bottle of vodka and mistaken it for something much milder. She'd chugged damn near the whole bottle and passed out, and Kensei had been forced to take her to Fourth Division before she did anything else stupid - apparently she had a nasty habit of abruptly thrashing awake and kicking, and Kensei was one of the only people strong enough to keep her steady and not be winded by her famous legs, so he'd vanished for a good chunk of the evening. You couldn't help but wonder if he'd purposefully taken longer than he needed to, so he didn't have to listen to the racket of his subordinate and other lieutenants getting wasted - Kensei was the only person who looked like he wanted to be here less than you did, and the thought was oddly cheering. Misery loves company, and all that. A vague ghost of a smile flickered at your lips, but it died again like a blinking lightbulb. You admittedly didn't know Kensei all that well, except that Hisagi had been fanboying constantly since the official announcement that the three former captains had agreed to return to their old posts. Time had passed since then, but Hisagi still seemed rather starstruck by Kensei, which was just as well - you'd heard he was a hardass, and if you were being totally honest, he kind of scared you a bit. He was no Zaraki or Kurostsuchi, but something about his size, intimidating aura and I-don't-give-a-fuck attitude was simultaneously scary and a little alluring. You could feel where he was from anywhere in Ninth - his reaitsu was powerful and tinged with an unusual aura, probably thanks to the Hollow that lived inside him. You wondered if Kensei was like that all the time or if he relaxed a little more in his downtime. You were certain you'd never seen him smile. As if he could sense your gaze on him, Kensei suddenly looked in your direction, a scowl on his face. You quickly ducked your head to avoid his gaze, cheeks burning.

It was time to go home, you decided. There was no point sitting here moping because senpai wouldn't notice you anymore. You knew how your moods were only amplified when you drank, and you couldn't see the night improving from here. You were stuck in a tar pit of self-loathing of your own making, and besides which, though you were friendly with one or two of the lieutenants, approaching all of them was kind of intimidating. They understood each other in a way other seated members didn't, working so closely with their captains and yet not quite being on their level. It was a weird limbo to be in, for sure. Slowly you got up from the table, and immediately nearly fell to your knees as you stood up. Fuck. The booze always hit harder this way, and it took a lot of concentration for you to skirt around the crowd of people towards the exit, weaving back and forth as you walked. Before you reached that glorious, blinding white rectangle of an exit, a hand suddenly grasped your elbow. "Where are you going?" a voice demanded. You turned around and your stomach did some kind of somersault as you found yourself staring dizzily up at Kensei himself. He was scowling down at you, as per usual, but he didn't seem particularly angry per se - he had a very severe resting bitch face, so it seemed. "Sorry?" you said, which was at least slightly better than "Whu?" which was what you'd been about to say. When you realised, he thought you'd gotten confused on your way to the bar/bathroom, you gave a little shake of your head. "Oh, I'm just - I thought I should go home." Behind Kensei came another raucous round of cheering and a facial muscle of Kensei's twitched. Clearly the celebrations were grating on his nerves as well - however fond of Hisagi he was, he was not the partying sort of guy. You didn't know Kensei that well, but you knew enough about him to know that every sound of glasses or bottles clinking and sloshing beer on the ground was no doubt grating terribly. "You're in no fit state to walk home by yourself." Kensei pronounced, but before you could get indignant over this, he sighed. "I'll walk you back to your quarters." What?! "Oh, um, that's kind of you, sir, but it's really not-" you demurred - the thought of walking home with Kensei Muguruma at your side was an alarming one. "It's not up for negotiation." Kensei overrode you bluntly, so much so that you found yourself unable to muster a second stab at refusing. His hand went to your shoulder, and he began steering you towards the door. "Come on. From here on, it's their problem if one of them passes out in a puddle of vomit." You paused and made a face at the idea. "Yessir." ~ You were right - walking with Kensei Muguruma was an intense experience. Granted, it wasn't like he was shouting at you for drinking or asking you tricky questions. Instead, he was surprisingly quiet, keeping an eye on your ungraceful gait out of the corner of his eye, but otherwise he seemed content to walk through the winding streets of the Seireitei - you'd told him where you lived, and it wasn't so far away that either of you felt the need to whip out Shunpo. Anyway, as Kensei had pointed out, the fresh air would help sober you up some. Despite that, though, the silence had a tinge of awkwardness to it. Kensei was doing you a favour, but you got the sense he was regretting having offered. Your mind was in a whirl of confusion and alcohol, and you wanted to find something to say to make the journey feel a little less of a daunting voyage. Kensei's reiatsu washed over you like a heavy wind that hints at a thunderstorm - occasionally your arm would brush his haori and the hairs stood up on your skin when it broke out in goosebumps. Kensei didn't seem to notice. "Why were you sitting by yourself?" he suddenly asked - not looking at you but keeping his eyes straight ahead. You're taken aback by the question and your answer is vague. "Oh, well...I'd said my congrats to Hisagi, so I didn't want to get in the way while he was with his friends. His other friends." you said, lamely. "It felt rude to just leave in the middle of his celebration." "Tch. His friends are spoiling him. Most people don't get a fucking parade thrown for them for achieving a bankai." Kensei muttered, and you shot a surprised glance at him. But though his words were dismissive, his facial expression wasn't disgusted or scornful. Perhaps grumbling was Kensei's idea of speaking fondly of someone. "Why did you come, then?" you asked, seized with a sudden boldness - perhaps Kensei's candidness was infectious. "You don't seem like a... party type of guy, sir." "I'm not," Kensei said, waving a hand impatiently. "But I don't begrudge the kid. I worked him hard, and he gave me the results I was hoping for. That deserves recognition." Huh. You gave a hum of agreement and turned your attention back to the path in front of you. It seemed Kensei was right - you did feel a little more sober. Walking no longer felt like a tricky task that required all conversation, though you didn't regret your decision to leave. You doubted anybody had noticed you were gone. "So that was the only reason?" Kensei pressed, startling you. "You were just too scared to talk to him around his lieutenant friends? Or were you hoping something was gonna happen?" You nearly choked on your own saliva at the blunt phrasing. Kensei really didn't pay much attention to social niceties, did he? You chewed on the inside of your cheek. You'd never examined your feelings regarding Hisagi Shuuhei in detail - you knew he liked Rangiku. Kensei knew he liked Rangiku. Everyone and their mums probably knew it. So having feelings for Hisagi had never really crossed your mind, because they were doomed before they'd even had a chance to take root. But explaining all this to Kensei made you uncomfortable, so instead you simply said: "We're just friends." "Really." Kensei drawled, and was it your imagination, or was he messing with you? It was hard to tell with his deadpan manner of speaking. "Yes, really." you said, a little huffily. "And if you don't mind, I'd rather not discuss it further." "Tch." You both fell silent again, and you could feel heat creeping up your cheeks. It occurred to you that perhaps Kensei had had some alcohol to loosen his tongue a bit himself, it was just nowhere near as obvious with him since he was so big and beefy - it would probably take enough alcohol to knock over a horse before he started to show ill effects. Though you didn't know who in their right mind would give alcohol to a horse. You knew where you were now, and you glanced at Kensei. "I can take it from here if you have somewhere to be." you said, then added belatedly. "Sir." "I don't." Kensei replied, and you snorted. "Why do you care about where I'm going or what I'm doing, anyway?" you suddenly asked him, feeling like you were teetering on the edge of something. "Thought you didn't want to talk about that anymore," Kensei said. "I'm not, I'm talking about you." you replied, bouncing onto the balls of your feet like that might help you reach Kensei better. He scoffed and glanced away, and you took a moment to admit his side profile, that firm jaw and the shape of his nose. The impressive fluff of his mohawk and were those piercings you spied in his ear? Hot. "Just noticed you around, is all." Kensei said, his throat bobbing when he covertly swallowed. "When you come by Ninth." Oh? "Oh?" you asked faintly. Kensei had noticed you? But why? There was nothing special about you and he was a captain, and a Vizard, to boot. Everyone was curious about them, even if the topic of the reason the reinstated Captains had been forced to leave was often skirted around. Was it possible you were hallucinating this and were still at that table, passed out drunk? Now Kensei turned to face you and you weren't able to pull your eyes away from him in time - specifically his bared chest, his firm abdominal muscles and that famous 69 tattoo emblazoned across his skin, the ink still bold and clear even after over a century. He caught you looking, but he didn't seem to mind it. "Yeah," he said, and his eyes slid to your lips, where a faint shimmer of lipstick still sat from when you'd gotten ready hours earlier. It was like it was choreographed. A beat of silence ticked between you, an internal debate that lasted both a moment and a lifetime. Then, before you had time to doubt, to convince yourself it was all in your head, Kensei moved, surprisingly quick for a man his size. You had no time to process before a large, gloved hand curved around the back of your neck and you were being pulled in for a hot, demanding kiss that left you breathless. You could faintly taste rum on his lips, and your back met the wall, Kensei's body shielding you from prying eyes. Your hands moved immediately to comb through his mohawk as he kissed you, and Kensei growled in response, his teeth pinching your bottom lip, enough to make you squeak. His hands roved up and down your body, one of them settling on your waist where you'd donned a brand-new sash for the occasion, his touch hot and firm and making you shiver deliciously. His reiatsu covered you, but this time you relished the staticky feeling of it, the tingling zipping across your skin. Fuck. you thought. No words were exchanged during all this. You'd both passed the need for them - your bodies did the talking plenty. When Kensei finally released you, straightening up to his full height again, you were amused to notice he had a smear of sparkly lipgloss collected on his bottom lip. You felt out of breath. "That was..." you said and broke off with a huff of breathless laughter. "Yeah," Kensei agreed, running a hand through his mohawk in a surprisingly self-conscious gesture that, at present, seemed like the most endearing thing ever. His eyes went back to your lips, but he didn't move to kiss you again. You understood - when you pushed yourself off the wall, the world wobbled a bit before righting itself. Sobering walk or no, you were still on the drunken side. You smiled awkwardly at Kensei, though pleasure squirmed in your stomach when he offered you a very slight one back. He reached out and his thumb brushed just underneath your bottom lip, wiping away some smudged gloss. You stood stock still while he did this, mesmerised by this simple movement. "Should I...?" you said, but you weren't sure how to finish that sentence. Kensei's smile turned into a smirk. "You're going to go home and sober up." he told you. "I think you've had enough excitement for one day." You licked your lips. "And after that?" you dared to ask. Kensei's smirk widened a bit, and his hand rumpled your hair. The next thing he said made your stomach clench and heat rush to your face. "And then you'll come by Ninth and we'll see if we can't find another reason to start celebrating."

#Kensei Muguruma x Reader #Kensei Muguruma #Reader Insert #Bleach #Fanfiction #Bleach x Reader

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holymultiplefandomsbatman · 2 years

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Hungry For Your Living Kiss [sub Loki Smut]

Sub TDW!Loki x Dom fem!reader

Summary: Loki has been locked up in his cell on Asgard for a while. You are one of Frigga’s maids and visit Loki regularly to bring him new books, as ordered by Frigga herself. The only difference: you choose to hand them over in person. Loki has developed an interest in you but he’s buried too deep in guilt and self-hatred to do anything about it. When you visit him again after he wakes up from a nightmare, Loki finally cracks.

Words: 5.7k

Warnings: NSFW! 18+ sub!Loki, dom!reader, face-slapping, praise kink, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, body worship, trauma, Loki having a panic attack, mentions of torture under Thanos, discussion of consent and boundaries, Loki being a soft cinnamon roll

Well, there we go. I’ve actually written smut for once, big surprise! This fic kinda developed a mind of its own at some point and now this is the end result. I don’t know what happened… 😂

Thanks to @lokisgoodgirl for inspiring me and being a cheerleader, and also thanks to @lokischambermaid for encouraging me to actually go through with writing this nonsense. I hope you enjoy it.

@muddyorbsblr I hope you like this too!

I haven’t written smut in a long time, so this is basically my first official attempt in... 3 years, I think. Please be kind. 😅

The title is inspired by the poem “If I Was Dead” by Carol Ann Duffy. I love her poetry and every single one of her works gives me Loki vibes. I can only recommend you check it out.

Loki stared grimly into the dungeon hallway, his vision obscured by the orange glow of Asgardian magic trapping him in this dreaded cage.

With nothing to do but reading.

And maybe waiting on new material – not that he was concerned about the plays and mythology retellings his mother kept bringing to him.

“The books I sent, do they not interest you?”

Loki bit back a comment about how he was far more interested in the maid delivering them than he cared about the books themselves. He paused, taking a deep breath to steady himself before he turned away from the wall to face his mother.

“Is that how I am to wile away eternity?”

Loki’s voice was calm, though the words sent a flash of pain through him.

Trapped in this cell, forgotten by the world. All alone.

Bitterly, he added, “Reading.”

“I’ve done everything in my power to make you comfortable, Loki.”

Frigga’s calm words carried a certain emotion that he couldn’t quite place. Loki looked up at his mother, interrupting his mindless pacing around the cell.

“Have you?” he asked slowly.

He took a step towards her, allowing a hint of pain into his voice as he eyed his mother with his usual façade of indifference.

“Does Odin share your concern? Does Thor?”

The look she gave him in response made Loki want to laugh. “It must be so inconvenient, them asking after me day and night…”

Frigga ignored his comment, as she always did.

Memories of his childhood rose from the depth of Loki’s mind, how his mother had smiled in amusement whenever he showed her something he cared about. He’d been so convinced that she cared about his stories, that she was listening with interest.

Now, Loki couldn’t help but wonder how much of it had just been her being amused at his childish joy. If she’d simply waved his passions aside like they didn’t matter.

Had she ever truly listened?

Frigga frowned at him. Her stern eyes trapped Loki under their stare, preventing him from hiding behind his carefully-constructed mask again.

“You know full well it was your actions that brought you here.”

Loki bit his tongue, fighting a memory that threatened to close in on him.

Your actions…

“My actions.” he echoed in a dull voice, turning away from Frigga to pace around the cell again. His stride was more forceful now, every step crushing a painful memory beneath his sturdy boots.

Loki soon found himself arguing with his mother, finally allowing himself to release a fraction of the weight he’d carried on his shoulders since his childhood days. Frigga’s insistence on his parentage ignited a storm deep within his chest, his ears filling with white noise while she continuously compared his actions to Odin’s.

“HE’S NOT MY FATHER!” Loki finally interrupted her, screaming the words right into her face.

Frigga didn’t remain quiet for long even though she’d taken a step back at his loud voice. “Then am I not your mother?” she asked softly, her ancient eyes filled with sadness.

Loki stared at her, his mouth opening and closing as he choked on all the things he’d always wanted to tell her. When he finally managed to say something, it turned out to be the worst possible option he could have chosen. He already regretted the words before they even left his mouth.

“You’re not.”

Frigga just looked at him, that same deep sadness from before still on her face.

Loki reached out, wanting to apologize, to touch her, to hold her. Anything.

His hand faded straight through hers.

Frigga’s eyes didn’t leave him as she slowly dissolved into sparks of magic.

Loki stared at the spot where she’d stood only a second ago. His chest constricted painfully as their conversation repeated in his head.

You know full well it was your actions that brought you here.

He shut his eyes, trying to hold back the memories of what he’d done in the past two years. What he’d been forced to do.

As usual, Loki was too weak to fight the onslaught of pictures and sounds. They overwhelmed him, playing out in front of him in blindingly bright colors.

The screams. The pain. The view of all the destruction from atop Stark Tower, in that brief moment where he’d finally been himself again. The way Thor had pleaded with him, right before he’d lost control once more…

Loki’s legs gave out beneath him. He stumbled to the ground, the impact shooting a flash of hot, burning pain up his spine. Tears trickled down his cheeks before he even knew he was crying.

Your fault. Weak, useless, despicable.

Loki pressed his forehead against the cold stone floor, his hands balled into fists next to his face.

The whispers didn’t cease. They only increased in volume as a single word stood out among the storm of insults. It echoed off the walls, digging its claws deep into Loki’s trembling body.

Monster.

Loki awoke with a start. He blinked against sleep’s firm hold, trying to shake the remnants of his dream – or rather, his nightmare. He barely remembered anything and the pictures faded quickly as he reached consciousness.

He could still hear the screams though. They always followed him, even when he was awake.

Loki slowly sat up. His entire body protested and his limbs ached as he tried to make sense of his surroundings. He paid it no mind.

He’d survived so much worse…

Loki stared at the hard surface beneath him in confusion; he must have fallen asleep on the floor. No wonder he’d been plagued by a nightmare.

Not that his waking hours were free of horror. The ghosts of the past two years followed him like a shadow even when he was wide-awake. No matter how hard he tried, he simply couldn’t escape them.

Loki wiped at his eyes to brush away the first tears rolling down his face. He gritted his teeth, ultimately failing to control himself as he gave in to the pain.

It would be one of those days again…

Voices rang out in the dungeon hallway. The two guards with their rough, ceremonious language – and then a third person, speaking in a much more joyful tone.

Loki froze. An ice-cold flash shot through him as he stared at the nontransparent cell wall.

No. You couldn’t be here, not right now!

He couldn’t let you see him like this, crying on the floor like some pathetic wimp. You deserved his best behavior, the charming prince who treated you like royalty. Not this…this sobbing moron.

Loki tried to hide his tears, desperately rubbing at his face with his sleeve. It was no use. Fresh tears continued to spill from his eyes, no matter how harshly he wiped the old ones away.

You entered the cell, the pile of books in your arms so high that it obscured your vision. You’d brought more than usual this time.

Maybe Frigga had added some books to teach him a lesson after their fight…

Loki shuffled backwards until his spine met the wall. He suppressed a pained hiss as his back protested at the impact and instead pulled his knees up towards his chest, trying his best to hide himself from you.

“Good morning, your highness. I hope I’m not too early. Queen Frigga requested that I deliver these as soon as possible.”

Your voice was far too chipper for the current time of day.

You carefully set the pile of books down onto the chair, reaching out to catch one of them before it could fall to the floor. Afterwards you turned around, quickly wiping your hands on your clothes as you searched for him.

“I know you probably haven’t finished the old ones yet, so I thought I’d just –“

Loki could tell when you spotted him cowering in the corner. He tried to make himself even smaller, wishing he could just fade into the wall.

An expression of deep concern washed over your beautiful features. You hurried across the room to kneel beside him, cupping his face between your palms.

“Are you alright?”

Loki could only stare at you in disbelief. His crying ceased, the pain replaced by utter shock at your proximity.

Did you forget who you were talking to? That you couldn’t just touch–

A shiver ran through him as your thumbs softly wiped his tears away. The careful, almost loving caress fueled the ache in his chest, though it was another kind of longing this time.

Why were you being so gentle with him? Why weren’t you running from him like everyone else?

Your touch became stronger. You angled his face towards you, leaving Loki no choice but to look at you.

“Are you alright, your highness?”

The title made him shiver, even though you’d addressed him in this manner countless times before ever since Thor had dragged him back to Asgard.

Something about your soft voice as you said the words this time was different.

It almost sounded like a term of endearment…

Loki’s mouth fell open, a quiet gasp slipping out against his will. His hand flew up and covered his mouth as he stared at you, embarrassment at his own reaction stunning him into silence.

You studied his face. A smile spread over your features – gods, you were truly beautiful – when you carefully pulled Loki’s hand away from his face. You placed it ever so gently against your cheek instead, closing your eyes for a second and leaning into the touch before you pressed your lips against it, softly kissing the palm of his hand.

Loki couldn’t breathe. He stared at you, your boldness leaving him completely speechless.

If someone saw you, you’d be executed immediately…

You were still smiling as you kissed his palm a second time, and a third, before your lips gently grazed the soft skin on the inside of his wrist. Your lips left goosebumps in their wake as you slowly kissed along his forearm.

A shiver shook Loki’s body. He gritted his teeth, trying to keep some semblance of composure – not that he’d possessed much to begin with. Your eyes met his while your mouth still brushed against his skin. He audibly gasped this time, the sound far too loud for the silence of the room.

With a soft peck to the inside of his elbow, you lifted your head and sat back on your knees, looking at him expectantly. You smiled, soft with a dash of mischief.

“Does your highness require anything else?”

Loki opened and closed his mouth without making a sound. His silver tongue betrayed him, a situation that didn’t occur often. He could usually rely quite confidently on his eloquence and quick wit.

In this moment, Loki was robbed of that gift. His tongue was immovable as stone inside his mouth.

Ironically he only ever found himself in this position when he was with you.

“I – “ Loki gulped, silently willing his mind to come up with anything, anything at all. It disobeyed him when he watched a small smile form on your face.

Oh, how badly he wanted to feel your lips on his skin again.

“Kiss me…”

It was intended as a command, authoritarian and cold to remind you of your place.

Instead, Loki’s voice was shaky, the volume barely above a whisper. Heat rushed to his cheeks and he gave in, covering his face behind his hands to hide his embarrassment.

Your amused chuckle disrupted the silence, accompanied by the shuffling of fabric. A shaky breath later, your hands grabbed Loki’s wrists, slowly pulling them away from his face.

He barely dared to look at you.

Surely you’d laugh at him, mock him, tell him how ridiculous –

Your fingers caressed his chin, slowly pushing his head up until Loki had no other choice but to look at you. Your eyes were kind, without any of the mockery he had grown so accustomed to. Your thumb gently stroked over his skin.

When you smiled at him, it was like the sun came out.

“What did you ask of me, my prince?”

Loki blinked, completely entranced by your presence. Your words repeated in his head, over and over again.

My prince…

He took a shaky breath, exhaling slowly before he opened his mouth. His voice was stronger this time, though it still trembled ever so slightly.

“Kiss me.”

Loki leaned forward, the tip of his nose brushing against yours. “Please,” he whispered.

He was begging now but he didn’t care anymore. How could he, when you looked at him like he was the most precious being in the universe.

Your fingertips trailed upwards from his chin, cupping his cheek in the palm of your hand. Loki nuzzled into your touch, making you smile for the duration of a second before you pulled him towards you.

Your lips connected with his. Loki swore he stopped breathing.

Everything slowed down as if hit by a freezing spell. Even the silence faded away that’d been so deafening a few minutes ago. Loki could only sit still, completely overwhelmed by the heat of your body, the gentle pressure of your lips against his…

They were slightly chapped, something he hadn’t noticed before. And incredibly soft…

A shaky sigh left Loki’s mouth as he gave in. He returned your kiss, moving his lips cautiously against yours. His eyelids fluttered shut and he relaxed against your body, his hands clenching into fists at his sides as he fought against the urge to touch you.

He would never forgive himself if he hurt you…

You shifted to straddle him, your knees resting on either side of his thighs. Carefully, so carefully, you reached for his hands, peeling his fingers apart before placing them on your waist.

Loki groaned. Your weight above him made his head spin. He dug his fingers softly into your hips, straining his neck upwards to kiss you again from this new angle.

You pulled your head back and pressed your finger to his lips.

“And what do you think you’re doing?” you asked, raising your eyebrows at him.

Loki stared at you in shock. Your commanding tone sent a shiver down his spine.

“I-I’m sorry…” he stuttered, struggling to even get the words out. His throat had become almost painfully dry.

You clicked your tongue dismissively and shook your head.

After a moment of silence you leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose. Loki’s face scrunched as he pouted. You simply giggled in response, kissing his nose once again.

Your lips began to trail over his skin, to his cheek, then his jaw. You grazed your teeth over it, making Loki shiver at the sensation. He closed his eyes as his head fell back against the wall, exposing his neck to you.

Your mouth soon latched onto his throat. Your kisses were starting to linger now.

“Mine,” you whispered softly, tracing your tongue across the main artery in his neck. “All mine…”

Loki’s breath hitched. He’d never thought about belonging to someone before, at least not in this manner. Something about the sound of your voice as you said it made him tremble beneath you.

Mine...

The words slipped out of Loki’s mouth before he could stop them. “Can I – can I touch you? Please?”

You pulled your mouth away from his neck and raised your eyebrows at him. Your eyes darted to where his hands were holding onto your hips.

“You are touching me.” you said teasingly.

Loki closed his eyes in embarrassment. Yes, he was aware of that – but it wasn’t what he meant and you knew it very well.

“I want to make you feel good. Please, it’s not right that I’m not giving anything back to you.”

Loki barely opened his eyes fast enough to catch the grin that lit up your face. He still saw a hint of it though, the fondness in your smile quickly overtaken by desire as you leaned back, raising your hands in a gesture that he read as, Well, what are you waiting for then?

Loki’s hands carefully moved upwards from your waist while he watched your facial expression for any sign of discontent.

“May I kiss your neck?” he asked softly, just to make sure.

You nodded immediately, tilting your head to give him access.

Having your soft skin displayed right in front of him like this tore a whimper from Loki’s throat. He surged forward and buried his face in the crook of your shoulder, breathing you in. His mouth tenderly caressed the side of your neck.

Your gasp echoed off the walls. You dug your fingers into his hair, pushing his face even further against you.

Loki chuckled at your reaction. He couldn’t believe that he was holding you in his arms right now, that he could kiss you like this.

He would very likely still doubt his memories once he woke up tomorrow.

Loki gave into the desire boiling in his veins. He pressed his lips firmly against you, sucking harshly. You panted above him as he carefully dug his teeth into your neck, making sure he didn’t break skin.

“You’re doing very – mmmm, yes – very well. Who knew that silver tongue was good for – ohhhh – other things as well…”

Loki shivered at your praise. His fingers began to play with your nipples through the fabric of your clothes as he sucked on your neck. His efforts earned him another moan from you, this one even louder.

You pulled his head away from you by his hair, staring down at him with hooded eyes.

“I need to fuck you, now. Will you let me do that?”

Loki nodded without having to think twice.

You reached for his pants, pulling his aching cock free where it had previously strained against the fabric, hard and dripping. Your free hand quickly pulled off your undergarments. You kicked them off before digging your hand into his shoulder for leverage and sinking onto his cock.

Loki couldn’t breathe.

You were a true goddess, your eyes dark with lust as you stared down at him.

You could've asked him for literally anything in that moment and by the gods, he would've done it so willingly. Without question.

Loki’s mouth fell open as you started rolling your hips. A guttural moan echoed through the cell, the sound so primal that he didn’t even recognize it as his own at first.

“Mine,” you growled into his ear, your teeth scraping against his neck, “all mine!”

There it was again, the word that would haunt him in his dreams.

Loki threw his head back. It crashed against the wall but he didn’t care, not even when his spine protested at the painful impact.

Your hand wound itself into his hair, gripping it roughly as you pulled his head back further and pressed your hungry mouth against his throat. A whimper fell from his lips, the sound turning into a low growl when you tugged on his hair.

“Yes,” Loki gasped. His head slammed back into the wall. “I – mmmmh, gods… I – I’m yours!”

It felt incredible to actually say it out loud, like a rush that left him dizzy.

Loki wasn’t sure how much of it was rebellion against the way he’d been raised – a prince declaring himself owned by a servant; all the stuck-up royals at Asgard’s court would gasp and clutch their pearls – and how much was the idea of belonging to you. Of being yours.

It didn’t really matter either way.

Loki squeezed his eyes shut, chanting the word until his voice cracked. Yours, yours, yours…

Your moans echoed in his ear as your hips moved faster, grinding into him relentlessly.

He’d never felt this close to Valhalla.

You kissed him again, your hands still buried in his hair. Your kisses took his breath away, suffocating him and bringing him back to life at the same time. Loki’s hands grabbed your hips tightly, clinging to you as he desperately tried not to drown.

Gods, he loved you.

Loki froze. The blood in his veins that had just been on fire turned to ice in a matter of seconds. Even your lips were cold now as they pressed against his.

He couldn’t love you. He couldn’t do that to you.

Words echoed through Loki’s mind. Words that kept him up at night, accompanying his nightmares so often that he saw the scene replay around him even though his eyes were wide open.

If you fail, if the Tesseract is kept from us, there will be no realm, no barren moon, no crevice where he can not find you.

Loki’s breathing picked up.

Thanos would find him. He’d kill anyone in his way to get to Loki, anyone who mattered to him, just to watch him suffer – a punishment for his failure.

If Thanos found out how much Loki cared for you…

The air was too thin now, his tunic gripping his chest so tightly that he wheezed, still unable to breathe properly.

What if –

A sharp pain on his cheek snapped him back to reality.

Loki gasped, his body surging forward as he struggled to fill his lungs with air.

He reached out, searching purchase. Something to hold onto, to ground himself. Something real.

Your arms wrapped around him from where you were now kneeling next to him on the floor, holding him against you.

Loki’s hands clung to your waist, gripping you tightly in a desperate attempt to center himself as his forehead fell against your shoulder. Your hand gently ran through his hair while you mumbled something in a soothing voice. The other hand stroked over his cheek, providing a sensation for him to focus on.

Loki didn’t know how much time passed until he finally dared to lift his head from your shoulder. His eyes fixed on the pendant around your neck, staring at it as if he wanted to commit every little carving in the material to memory.

You didn’t rush him, just calmly playing with his hair until Loki slowly raised his gaze to meet yours. You seemed surprisingly calm. He couldn’t spot any confusion or anger on your face, nothing but a soft smile.

“Are you alright?” you asked carefully.

Loki paused, taking a few breaths. Then he nodded.

“Yes,” he replied, surprised by the steady sound of his voice. He cleared his throat. “What, er, what happened?”

Your tongue darted out to wet your lips. Loki stared for a moment before he caught himself and looked away.

“You didn’t respond anymore when I tried to talk to you. You were just…” you lifted your hand from his cheek and waved it through the air in search of words, “you were frozen. And, well, I… I had to find a way to bring you back.”

You lowered your eyes for a moment.

Loki slowly raised his hand to the side of his face that was still tingling. His eyebrows rose as he stared at you, realization dawning on him.

A sheepish smile twitched at the corners of your mouth.

“Did you hit me?” Loki asked, completely dumbfounded.

You chuckled, looking at him with what he presumed to be a mixture of embarrassment and playfulness. “I had to get you back! What was I supposed to do?”

“Not slap me, perhaps? Surely you could’ve figured out something else!”

Loki rubbed his cheek, grumbling under his breath as you chuckled. He shook his head in disbelief.

You’d just slapped him. Right across the face, with all your might.

His mind conjured an image before he could stop it.

You raising your hand, your palm colliding with his cheek, the sharp burn as you hit him.

Loki bit back the groan that threatened to rise in his throat. He couldn’t suppress the shiver running up his spine, though. His body twitched.

You looked at him with barely concealed amusement, a knowing grin on your face.

Loki rolled his eyes, turning his head away from you. He was still unable to shake the mental image and it confused him greatly.

Your fingers caressed the sensitive spot on his cheek where you’d struck him a few minutes ago.

You applied pressure. Loki hissed sharply through gritted teeth.

Your amused laughter erupted right next to his ear.

“You know…” you said slowly, your hand dropping from his face to play with the tips of his messy hair instead, “I could just… hit you again. If you want to see how it feels.”

Loki’s breath hitched. He squeezed his eyes shut until he saw spots but it didn’t help him gain control over the onslaught of confusing thoughts.

The image in his head just wouldn’t go away.

Loki looked over at you, huffing grumpily for good measure.

You smiled at him, your fingers still tangled in his hair. Your other hand now cupped the unharmed side of his face while your thumb stroked over his cheekbone.

“We don’t have to do it if you don’t want to,” you assured him.

Your voice was soft but firm. It calmed the chaotic thoughts racing through Loki’s head, although he didn’t know why. Maybe he was underestimating just how much power you truly held over him.

He trusted you though, he knew that with every fiber of his being.

Loki took a deep breath. When he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper.

“I – I would like to… I would like to try it.”

You studied his face carefully. “Are you sure?”

Loki nodded. He didn’t have to think this time.

“Alright. We’ll try one and then see how you feel, yes?”

Your voice was still gentle but it now carried a hint of determination. Loki shivered. He nodded again.

You gave him a stern look, similar to the one his mother always used with him. “Words, your highness.”

“Y-yes,” Loki stammered quickly, nodding his head in confirmation.

Your fingertips stroked his unscathed cheek one last time before you raised your hand, looking at him questioningly. When he nodded, you slapped him swiftly across the face.

Loki’s mouth fell open, a moan ripping from his throat. Pleasure washed over him like a wave as his body surged forward, almost as if it were chasing after the pain. He doubled over, forearms resting on his thighs to steady himself while he shivered and gasped for breath.

Before he’d met you, Loki was sure he knew pain. He’d experienced enough of it to last multiple lifetimes, even where Asgardians were concerned.

He didn’t know it could feel this good though.

Loki slowly straightened again, his breath still coming in short pants. He looked at you, only to discover that you were watching him intently, carefully taking in his facial expressions and his body language.

You gently held his face between your palms, stroking your thumbs over his cheekbones.

“Are you alright? I didn’t hit you too hard, did I?”

Loki shook his head to the best of his ability, your hands brushing across his skin. “No,” he said slowly.

You smiled at him, some of the worry leaving your eyes. You reached out to push some of his messy dark hair away from his face.

“Do you want me to do it again?”

Your tone was casual now, as if you were discussing the weather.

“Yes! But –” Loki interrupted himself, awkwardly pointing towards his lap, “w-would – um, would you…”

You giggled under your breath and grabbed his cock, slowly sinking back onto him. Your combined moans reverberated around the cell.

Loki’s hands clutched your hips as you started rocking back and forth on top of him. He tried to keep his grip light enough that he wouldn’t impact your movement while still having something to hold on to.

Loki’s hips instinctively jerked upwards and he groaned low in his throat.

You didn’t punish him for it this time. Instead you smiled and lifted a hand from the back of his neck, softly brushing your fingertips over his cheek.

After a moment, you pulled your hand back, eyeing him questioningly.

Loki nodded and closed his eyes, his breathing picking up in anticipation.

His head flew to the side as you slapped him again, hard. The sound echoed through the cell.

A hot flash raced up his spine, making Loki cry out in pleasure. The stinging sensation almost tipped him over the edge.

“Th-th-thank you,” he stammered once he was able to speak again. His face burned from humiliation and pleasure.

You smirked, pulling Loki into a rough kiss. Your hips continued their maddening pace that made his head spin all over again

“Again,” Loki urged softly once you broke the kiss, “p-please, again.”

You paused and frowned at him, slowing down the movement of your hips. He whined loudly in protest.

“What was that?” you asked slowly, a hint of darkness in your voice.

Loki shuddered, squeezing his eyes shut as he battled the last remaining shred of his pride.

“Please… please hit me again, Y/n.”

He cringed, ashamed of the utter desperation in his voice. This was so far from the behavior his mother had taught him, so unlike what his golden brother had always been praised for during their childhood.

However, when you resumed the grinding of your hips on top of him – moving even faster than you did previously – and leaned forward to capture his mouth in a passionate kiss, Loki found he didn’t care. He simply let go, allowing you to do whatever you wanted.

You broke the kiss soon after, smiling in amusement as his lips chased after yours.

“Well done. Just close your eyes and enjoy it.”

Loki complied, a drawn-out moan falling from his lips as you started bouncing on his cock.

“Yes, th-th– ohhhh – th-thank you – mmmm, just like that… Please hit me again, I want it so badly, I – ohhhhh, GODS!”

Your hand had come down onto his face again, striking him so hard that his ears were ringing. This time however, you’d slapped him on the other cheek.

Loki swore he saw stars. The sharp sting pushed him over the edge and he spilled inside of you, your name falling from his lips in a broken scream. He remained sitting propped up against the wall as waves of pleasure rolled over him, leaving him a trembling, moaning mess.

You bounced on top of him, your head thrown back towards the ceiling while you chased your own release. You reached between your legs, rubbing your clit relentlessly until you came with a strained cry.

Loki caught you in his arms as you slumped forward into his chest, spent and exhausted. He stroked the back of your head with tender fingers, smiling to himself in awe and disbelief.

How in the hels did he deserve you?

You hummed softly, burying your face in his shirt. You remained that way until your heartbeat slowed down and your breathing returned to normal.

Loki’s breath caught in his throat when you finally raised your head to look at him, leaning in to kiss him so lovingly that he forgot everything around him.

All that mattered was you.

Loki woke up slowly, feeling rested and calm for the first time in forever. He found himself curled up in his chair, which explained why he wasn’t in as much pain as usual.

He didn’t remember lying down to sleep though.

He couldn’t remember when he’d last slept without nightmares either.

Loki stretched carefully, not quite trusting the lack of pain just yet. After all, he’d learned the hard way how easily his body could be manipulated, how it felt to lose control of his own hands only to wake up to find them covered in blood that he didn’t remember spilling.

Loki yawned, rubbing at his eyes while he slowly shifted into a sitting position.

Today would be a good day, he could feel it. He really deserved one.

Someone pointedly cleared their throat.

Loki flinched, his eyes almost falling out of his head when he spotted Frigga standing in the middle of his cell.

“Mother! What are you doing here?”

Their conversation two days prior came back to him. Loki practically jumped out of the chair, the quick motion making him dizzy. He pushed the feeling aside.

“Mother, I apologize for –“

Frigga only lifted her hand, effectively silencing him.

“No need,” she said graciously, a hint of her usual loving tone resonating in her voice. “You’re forgiven.”

Loki stared at her, a weight falling off his shoulders as he processed her words. He took a deep breath of relief.

His mother’s presence still confused him though. Why was she here?

Frigga smiled at him. When she spoke again, her eyes held a spark of amusement, maybe even mischief.

“I suppose you’ll be interested to hear that I disguised your… encounter with my maid. I wouldn’t want you or Y/n to face punishment over something so trivial.”

Loki’s eyes widened and he was unable to look at his mother. Her words left him torn between shock and disbelief as the realization slowly set in.

He didn’t know what to say, utterly mortified by what she was implying.

Frigga grinned softly and shook her head.

Loki remembered that reaction very well from his childhood, whenever the guards dragged Thor and him towards her after they’d once again done something reckless and incredibly stupid. She’d looked at them with the same expression then as she regarded him with right now.

Frigga took a small step towards him, the movement barely noticeable. The amusement in her eyes dulled, though it didn’t fully disappear.

“I’m so glad that Y/n reciprocates your feelings… but next time, please try to at least conceal yourselves a little bit.”

Loki swallowed and nodded. His face grew hot as his boots suddenly became extremely interesting.

After a while of awkward silence, he slowly dared to raise his head, discovering that Frigga had disappeared. He dropped onto the chair beneath him, burying his face in his hands.

When you came back two days later to deliver new books, Loki barely managed to cast an illusion before your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him into a passionate kiss.

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theredofoctober · 3 months

Text

MANNA- CHAPTER TEN: RABBIT

Dark!Hannibal Lecter x Reader x Dark!Will Graham AU fic

TW for eating disorders, noncon, abuse, drugging, Daddy kink, implied child abuse, self harm, fatphobia, body dysmorphia

This is chronologically the tenth chapter in the series.

Read beneath the cut...

Napalm is the slow fire of waking from a terrible dream, blind, gasping, burnt. The pain, though delusive, is made actual by the action of nerves.

Only a hand at your shoulder, vigorous in its attentions, hauls you up from the putrescence of slumber into the light-dark of four in the morning. You find Hannibal's shape through lashes gummed with sleep's adhesive.

His face is as impassive as a star, but his hair, ever coiffed, is displaced from the friction of his pillow.

“You were screaming,” he says, as you sit, stunned, in his arms. “What were you dreaming about? Do you remember?”

“No,” you say, although the scenes remain briefly in your vision, doubling like silk screen prints upon the walls.

Hannibal fills up a glass with fresh water and bids you to drink, his eyes pensive, unconvinced.

Only the notion that he may suggest you share his bed or else intrude upon yours impels you to honesty.

“I dreamt that I was trapped in one of the Silicone Lover’s dolls. That he was trying to squeeze me inside, and I wouldn’t fit. He said, ‘You’ve gotten so big since I last saw you. I’d better do something about that.’

“Then he started cutting me up with kitchen scissors, and I couldn’t stop him.”

You pause, choking on a breath, a verbal stagger.

Dr Lecter offers you the water again, which you take in both hands and drain to its end.

“Take your time,” says Hannibal. “When you’re ready, go on.”

Lying will fail you before the all-seeing eye, so it is with a flat honesty that you say, “It wasn’t what the Lover did in my dream that scared me. It was what he said to me. Because he was right.”

You reach down to pull the quilt up across your stomach, which Hannibal, with a subtle gesture, prevents.

“To agree with such a statement there must be some basis of comparison for you,” he says. “You knew the person standing in as the Lover in your dream. Can you name him?”

Hannibal could guess it, from the little you’ve told him of your unclean past, but if memory conjures the name from the gully of silence he does not say so.

Instead, he comments, “I think it’s unwise for you to sleep again until your mind is settled. Perhaps we may take advantage of the hour to continue your therapy, in an informal fashion.”

He sits in a chair by your bed, producing a notepad and pen from a pocket of his dressing gown.

You see that he will not move.

"What if I don’t talk?” you ask, softly. “What if I say I'd rather take the punishment?"

Hannibal's slender lips upturn.

"I wouldn't be inclined to take such a claim seriously.”

In sullen defeat you flounce back against the pillows.

Dr Lecter takes his cue.

“I’m curious about the friendships you’ve formed throughout your life. Have there been any notable examples?”

“Not many,” you answer, looking at the raw edges of your fingernails. “I was kind of the weird kid. It was like looking through a dusty museum window at everybody passing by, not really knowing how to get out there and talk to people. Like I was too old and too young at the same time.

“I got bullied, kind of. Nothing worth talking about. Just dumb kid stuff.”

“Even persecution of a childish nature bears painful resonance in later life,” Hannibal comments. “Moreover, isolation from one's peers may disrupt development in those vital years.”

You think of dolorous hours patrolling a fallow playground alone, three hundred children staring through you with adult hostility.

“I did make one friend,” you say. “First year of high school. Amy Glass. She was a weird kid, too.”

Hannibal scratches deftly on his notepad.

"Describe how you met."

Closing your eyes, you find your way back through the forests of the past to a corridor whose tiled floor squeaks under your shoes. You smell textbook paper and saccharine body spray. The sweat of young bodies, and the stale cafeteria fare you’d never tasted throughout your time there.

“Between classes Amy would sit in a window listening to music, or reading,” you say. “Stephen King, usually. Sometimes Ann Rice. She seemed to be up there all the time. I don’t think she was getting shit from the other kids or anything; she just preferred hanging out on her own.

“I wished I was like that, not caring. I wished I was her, period.”

“In what way?” asks Dr Lecter, and in the hallway of your mind a slender figure appears, brown of skin and eyes, blue hair cut roughly to the chin, its roots seeping in atop it like a stain.

Amy.

“A lot of ways,” you say. “Before I really knew her, it was about how she looked. She had piercings— ears, lip, nose, eyebrow. Teachers would tell her to take them out, then the second she was out of their eye-line she’d put them right back in. And even back then she had these awful stick and poke tattoos of bats and crosses she covered up with band aids for classes.

“She did all of them herself with a safety pin. God knows how she didn’t get an infection or anything.

“Then there was the fact I knew we liked some of the same music because of the patches on her bag, and her t-shirts and stuff. Nothing you’d approve of,” you add, as interest touches the face of your listener. “Jesus, I can’t even imagine playing stuff like that in this house. Anyway, I didn’t want to just be like, ‘hey, you like that band, too’. It would have been too weird. Stalkery, maybe?”

“Music isn’t such a terrible way to form a connection,” says Hannibal, amused. “I was once approached in friendship through a shared taste in cheese.”

Picturing his restrained derision you cannot help but laugh.

“Oh, god,” you say. “What were they thinking?”

“It was a naive assumption of commonalities. Besides, my commitment to professionalism would never have allowed us to be as close as he would have hoped.”

You give a little start of affront.

“You’ve made friends with other clients.”

Dr Lecter’s smile remains.

“Only with those whom I feel my presence benefits.”

“Benefits you, you mean,” you say, pettishly. “Whoever it was, you just didn’t like him that much. That’s why you turned him down. Or maybe he was too like you.”

Without appearing offended, Hannibal turns a page in his notebook.

“I'm unconcerned with debating my personal relationships, little one. Let’s return to Amy. Who initiated the friendship between you?”

“Amy,” you say. “It was after this councillor was trying to get something out of me, and I didn’t want to talk. I walked out that room feeling so... heavy, and grimy, and embarrassed. Then there was Amy, heading to the same office I just walked out of. She looked at me, scrunched her face up, and said, ‘Wish me luck.’ Next time I saw her I made the same face back and asked, ‘how was it?’

“‘The worst, just like always,’ she said. ‘Where’d she get her certificate, anyway? Clown school?’

“I burst out laughing. ‘She’s so bad, right?’

“And that was it. Friends. We went everywhere together. Amy really liked me. I don’t know why. I think maybe she thought I was sort of mysterious and interesting rather than just depressed, probably because I didn’t want to talk about what was going on with me.

“She told me everything about her. How her dad didn’t believe in mental health issues even though he was just like she was, and how her mom just ignored everything, hoping it’d just... go away. But I didn’t tell Amy even one little thing about me, really. Not one.”

Guilt you’ve never truly confronted falls like a petal from a late summer bloom, cloying the dark with its flavour.

“Did Amy ever indicate that she’d recognised your particular illness?” prompts Hannibal, and you shrug glumly.

“A couple of times. I ignored every hint. Changed the subject. Acted like it wasn’t a thing when it obviously was. I knew that she knew. That was the dynamic. She was softer, around me. She got it. She got me.”

Suddenly your breath feels very high in your chest, catching on a rib.

“I can’t help but notice your use of the past tense,” says Dr Lecter. “Might I assume that you are no longer friends?”

“We grew apart after school,” you mutter. “I think she would have liked it if I stayed in touch, but then sometimes I wonder if that’s just wishful thinking, and maybe she didn’t care all that much when we drifted apart and stopping talking.

“I have her on Facebook. That’s all, really. She was never a social media person anyway, but still. I could have tried harder. I don’t know why I didn’t.”

Hannibal allows the silence between you to ferment before he speaks again.

“Looking back, what do you think prevented you from maintaining contact?”

“I felt like after school was over she’d find other friends, and I’d just end up being left behind. So I got out of there before I had to see it happen.”

"You abandoned a friendship on the basis of a prophecy that might never have come to fruition."

"It would have,” you insist. “All my life I've had senses about things. Like, if I get a feeling something will or won't happen, I'm always right. Like I was right about you."

Swanlike, Dr Lecter’s hands move across his notebook, tactfully punctuating a note.

"It's common for sufferers of complex post-traumatic stress disorder to misinterpret their hypervigilance as psychic premonition. A heightened awareness of your surroundings and the behaviours of people in your vicinity develops in order to predict danger before it occurs. Pattern recognition is more mathematical than clairvoyant."

"What about my dreams?" you ask, sharply. “Are they math, too?”

"You've had other nightmares?” asks Hannibal, and leans forward, poised to digest you answer.

Canny, you hoard the matter like a serpent its glittering lair.

Hannibal accepts his defeat with grace.

Gathering up his notebook and the empty glass, he says, "That's enough therapy for now, particularly so early in the morning. I'll make you some tea, and you may return to sleep. Peacefully, this time, I hope."

Later, there is a meal that sits, sinking in a bath of bronze on Dr Lecter’s dining table, so much of it that you’re gorged merely from the arithmetic of its makeup.

“Arroz de Cabidela,” says Hannibal, as he pulls out his own chair. “A Portuguese dish made with rice, chicken, or rabbit cooked in its own blood. Today I’ve chosen rabbit. Have you ever eaten it before?”

It occurs to you that he expects you to be disturbed by the notion, but you are not. Meat is meat, all of it equally cruel. That life must end for the furthering of your existence has driven you to veganism many a time.

Little chance of sustaining such a diet now that you sleep in the devil’s slaughterhouse.

“No,” you say. “I’ve never tried rabbit. I heard it’s really... gamey.”

Your palate is scarcely educated enough to comprehend the statement. Still, it is apparently accurate, for Hannibal makes a low hum of agreement.

“It has similarities to poultry, in flavour, though it’s rather lean and dry. The blood stew adds a richness you’ll find complimentary, however.”

The scent is certainly inviting, but you are so committed to rejecting whatever is served to you that you feel lightheaded, succumbing to the altitude of starving heights.

“Couldn’t you have given me a smaller portion?” you ask, piteously. “I don’t mean to be rude, but it’s so... much.”

Hannibal glances from your plate to his own, his visage neutral.

“I’ve served you a great deal less than I’ve given myself,” he says. “That said, I’m sure we can settle our differences. I’m not unyielding, if I can see some effort is being made.”

You look him in the eye, hoping you appear more bold than frightened.

“Dr Lecter, you make me all these courses, and they’re crazy even for a normal person. I feel like you do it on purpose. And afterwards my stomach hurts.”

“That’s normal, after a period of fasting. Your body will adjust. Now, please eat.”

You don’t. The cut on your plate makes you think of the Lover’s dolls, how even at your slightest you wouldn’t have fit into such a shell. How, changed as you must be through Hannibal’s cooking, you would ooze over every edge.

“I could use the feeding tube, if you’re unwilling,” says Dr Lecter, rising from his chair to stand at your back. “It would be relatively easy for me to administer. But I’d hate to sour an otherwise pleasant meal with brute force.”

He cups your throat in his smooth hand, and you envision how lovingly he’d coil about you in restraint, guiding the pipe down through you as you choked and flinched in his grasp.

“I’ll eat a quarter,” you say. “That’s it. Then... then nothing else until tomorrow. I won’t sneak out of bed, and I won’t do anything that breaks the rules. Please, Dr Lecter. Uh... Daddy?”

Your confusion between roles endears you to him, as does your breathless, eager willingness to beg.

“Should I allow you to barter?” Hannibal muses, still caressing the wand of your stiff neck. “It’s a symptom of your illness, after all.”

“Just let me choose how much and I’ll try anything you offer me.”

Dr Lecter releases a small breath of laughter.

“I wouldn’t like you to eat your words, little one.”

Gnashing your teeth, you say, “I won’t. I can do it. Please let me. You’re supposed to dote on me, aren’t you?”

You feel Hannibal’s lips against your hair in a kiss of paternal indulgence.

“Always so spirited,” he says. “Very well. I cannot deny my little beauty her request.”

What beauty does he refer to? You’ve only recognised it in the mine shafts of furthest hunger, mistaking a shadow for some precious stone.

Yet clearly you are not so low quality as you believe if both men have fucked you so freely over other women, whom they could conceivably draw into the net of the house.

Then again, there is no accounting for the tastes of madmen, and mad they both are, even Hannibal in his gelid divinity.

From the topiary of his language and flippant games you are beginning to see that you interest him in your very opposition to his being. Were you to succumb completely you would not be so worthy: all men bow to Hannibal, after all, seduced and deceived until they’d lick his fingers like lambs for the milk of his approval.

You, like Will, resist and evade enough of his passes to set yourself apart from the flock.

You may yet throw a halter over the head of the horned man, if only in as much as he allows himself to be reigned.

Quartering your meal as neatly as you're able, you glance up at Dr Lecter, afraid that, by some caprice, he’ll break his code and force you to eat down to the bare plate. But he merely stands by, retaining his honour, and as you look at him you picture his mild hands breaking the neck of the rabbit to drain as though for a ritual of blood.

Frequently through your days with Hannibal he immerses himself in hobbies and work about the house, cultivating a necessary solitude after the long hours of ingesting others’ anxious thoughts.

He reads, or writes music, sketches, telephones his friends and past lovers—of whom there are many—or else sets his pen to journals, having seen you safe to your locked room, where he need not prepare for misdemeanour.

In this way your residence in Hannibal’s home does not impede upon his individual pursuits, but rather compliments them, an accent of his sempiturnal glamour.

You are, after all, but one of his many pastimes. It is indulgence, then, when he insists on attending your evening bath.

As he kneels beside the tub to dampen a washcloth his intentions surface, another infringement upon the flesh.

“I don’t need you to help me,” you mumble, arms taut across your chest. “I’m not your baby.”

“Your inner child wails for the tenderness your illness has long obstructed,” says Hannibal, calmly. “Your independence would have you die like an infant abandoned to the forest. Let me carry you, at least in this small act of service.”

You look at him with eyes as dull as old blades and picture the futility of your struggle, his lithe arms holding you, kicking and airless, beneath the foam.

“Don’t you have your own daughter you can do all this with?” you ask; you’ve not yet needled him on his familial relations, and feel yourself more than entitled to know.

Hannibal begins to work the flannel over your naked form, paying no heed to your twitching affront.

“Abigail would have served the role admirably,” he says. “But it wasn’t to be. As for my own children, I have none.”

The revelation passes you without surprise. It’s only possible to imagine him having elegant, adult offspring, absent of the soiling indignities of rearing an infant.

“So you took me away for you and Will to raise,” you say. “Guessing he doesn’t have kids, either.”

The washcloth folds beneath the water, and you gaze studiously at the opposite wall so as not to think about the hand behind the fabric, how it has touched you in other ways, pleasantly, horridly.

“Will is also childless,” says Dr Lecter. “He has never known family, as you have. His mother left him when he was only an infant, and his father was a distant figure, though present. Now it seems that they’re estranged from one another. One can only imagine the loneliness Will has known in his life. Perhaps, with your assistance, this will change.”

Cloth, skin, hands, touch. Gentle and beguiling their trap, to distract from the permanence of this suggested triptych as fingers play against you underwater.

Unsteadily, you ask, “Is Will your boyfriend?”

Hannibal turns you an indecipherable look.

“Do you perceive our relationship to be romantic?”

A strange question, considering the violation with which you were inducted to their company. But not once did either man kiss or grasp the other— a technicality, certainly, yet one, it seems, that holds weight.

“Yes,” you say. “For you, anyway. I don’t know about Will. I know he thinks highly of you. He just sees me as something that’s in the way.”

You kick a foot testily, splashing water over the rim of the bath.

“What are you in the way of?” asks Hannibal, as he begins to lather your hair.

“Not sure. Your friendship, I guess.”

“Do you believe him when he implies that you're only an obstacle to him?”

Water pours over your head, and you close your eyes, enduring the sensation.

“He told me I’m unwanted,” you say.

“When you attempted to kill him?”

Fear bowls over you with a black suddenness.

“He told you?”

“I came to my own conclusions. You weren't quiet, either of you, that night."

You look at Hannibal, at the stag man of your dreams, and taste something like dirt, something like blood, at the back of your mouth.

“Had you seriously injured him or succeeded in your bid to end his life I would have been forced to conclude our treatment,” he says. “But you did not. I’m thankful to have been provided with a truth I hadn’t yet drawn from you: I know that you are not a killer, at least not at this present moment.”

In a strengthless whisper, you ask, “What do you mean?”

Hannibal draws a comb through your hair, unmoved by the conversation.

“As time changes the continents, people come apart through circumstance into new being. That shift may one day lead to the birth of murder’s country.”

A thought stings you like the cold: Will and Hannibal want you to be capable of killing, if not of them, then someone of lesser consequence, the hereditary illness emerging in the child.

That is the secret under this house, the whisper in the walls, its present haunting.

“I hope that never happens,” you mumble. “Never. No matter what you do.

“And yet the whetting of your blood thirst didn’t begin with Will and I,” says Dr Lecter, mildly. “Until you admit your liking of its flavour you will remain unsatisfied, little one.”

You do not ask how he knows you’ve thought of killing, once before, which you yourself had forgotten; having been in your home, the chill sanctum of your childhood bedroom, he may have learned, of you, a myriad, his interrogation merely a practice in contextualising his findings.

“I’d rather starve,” you say, at last, and sink your chin beneath the water.

Dr Lecter takes a razor from a nearby cabinet and begins to shave you with slow precision. He does not ask if you wish for it, only glides the razor across your underarms, groin, and each leg until you run silken beneath his hands.

That done, Hannibal rises, brushing unseen dust from his knees.

“I’ll bring you some fresh clothes,” he says, and leaves the room, a ghost departing the stage.

You look at the razor, entrapped in its plastic guard on the rim of the bath.

Had you a pair of scissors you might have cut the metal free to make a weapon, or else an escape into realms unknown to the living. Though its edge is still wickedness manifest, it would take a great deal of pressure to pursue death by this angle, though it would not be impossible.

It is not death you want to meet, however, but another, nameless coward.

You take the blade to your arm, and the pain is like eating, a sin that sates the freak of misery.

The bathwater turns like a devil’s baptism, and though they are but shallow cuts you feel suddenly faint. Lying back, you lay your arm against the porcelain, thinking murky thoughts of your mistake.

Hannibal returns carrying a muted lilac dress and pale stockings, stilling at the sight of you, of the water, red as autumn mud.

He sets down the clothing and kneels beside you again.

“Let me see.”

You let him take your arm and touch the crude little gashes softly.

“Shower, quickly. Then I’ll treat your wounds. Fortunately, they aren’t so deep.”

How gentle he is with you, this beast dressed as a man in his pressed shirt and waistcoat, guiding your numb form about with a soothing authority. You’d once yearned to be handled like this, to be absolved and set free of any and all expectation. That it comes from him is like being spit in the eye by the Fates, one after the other.

Clotho, Lachesis, Atropos: what have you done to so offend them?

It’s only after having bandaged your forearm and settled you, dummy-like, upon his bed, that Hannibal speaks again.

“What motivated you to do this?”

“You know.”

“Elaborate.”

You lie, face down, in the pillows. The cotton smells like him.

“To feel better,” you say. “Amy said it helped her, sometimes. Cleared her head.”

The mattress tilts slightly as Dr Lecter sits down beside you.

“You mirror her pain to feel closer to love lost. Has it helped you?”

“No. I feel stupid. I feel—”

Restless, you turn onto your side and feel a tear, compelled by gravity, mark your jaw.

“I feel like a kid,” you say. “It’s humiliating. I hate that I always feel this way. Don’t make me live like this.”

Dr Lecter presses a tissue into your hand, as much to save his bedclothes as to comfort you.

“Fighting the expression of necessary emotions will only stunt them further, little one. Will and I would dearly like to see you flourish. Amy would surely wish that for you, too.”

Cradling your wounded arm to your chest, you flick the used tissue to the floor with the other.

“Screw you,” you say. “Both of you. That’s what Amy would tell me to say to you, Dad.”

Hannibal stares at the tissue, and you sense the inward twitch of his irritation as he bends to pick it up from the ground.

“Your parents called again, this afternoon,” he says, offhandedly. “I informed them that you were struggling with your treatment. I advised that we continue your residence here a month longer than previously agreed.”

He casts you a pitying look, and you’re reminded of the futility of going to war with Hannibal Lecter.

“It seems that I made the prudent choice,” he says. “Don’t you agree?”

#hannibal lecter #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal fic #yandere hannibal lecter #manna fic #tw eating disorders #tw fatphobia #tw self harm #dead dove do not eat #darkfic #hannibal darkfic

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cupcakeslushie · 9 months

Note

With the newest update, it's got me thinking a lot about Karai's role in this au. More on her actions and treatment of Leo and what lies in the future for her. It's been mentioned and made obvious that the "sibling" (i say in quotes since Karai doesn't even see Leo as an equal) relationship between Leo and Karai is nothing short on unhealthy and toxic. Thus, Leo learning what a real relationship with siblings is with the Hamato family. Karai wants to be the better soldier in the Shredder's eyes and seems to take any opportunity to bring down Leo. But something I keep thinking about is what happens to her after Leo has the emperyon removed and (along with the apocalypse future) after stopping the invasion. Basically, is there still a chance at some sort of redemption for her, or are her actions throughout the au unable to be forgiven. It's said that after Leo leaves the Foot, she tries to prove to Shredder that she didn't even need him to begin with and can handle herself just fine. The only time we've seen her act nice towards Leo is right after the session with Kitsune, where Leo is pretty out of it, but who's to say how often that happens. And then there's Leo himself and how he sees Karai after all that happens. Does he just try and forget about her, or does he hold any kind of resentment like Shredder. There's the question of whether he would be willing to forgive her for her actions. Though this isn't even taking into how Karai wasn't actually Shredder daughter but Splinter's instead.

I know that the answer to this is most likely spoilers, but I could into a whole character analysis on whether redemption is an option for Karai or if she's reached a point like Shredder. It would be interesting to hear you thought on what you can say. Though for the time being, I can wait to see what happens! Thanks for coming to my TedTalk, I hope you have a great day, and remember to stay hydrated! :D

Some of the future stuff is kinda spoilers, but I will say, she’s not a monster on the same level as Saki. She’s certainly not an angel, but she will have her own arc and we’ll see how the chips fall.

At the moment in the comic, Karai thinks seeing Leo fail is a necessary stepping stone to proving her own worth and she’s very bitter over Leo earning a commander title before her. Once Leo leaves, and she has most of Saki’s attention on her, she realizes that the Shredder will never be pleased, Karai starts to rethink her feelings toward Leo, and realizes how much she misses how they used to be. She also has no idea of Shredder’s full plan to create his own dark armor to imprison Leo.

In the past Karai, Usagi, and Leo were…friends (after a rocky start) for a very few short years. Usagi being probably the most distant, for the obvious reasons of hating Saki and the Foot Clan. But with Karai and Leo following him around, training together, and bunking together, he eventually stops taking his anger out on them, and becomes a reluctant participant in their childish hi-jinks. Unfortunately, that does not last long.

Around a year before Usagi manages his escape, Leo’s goofing around on a mission leads to Karai getting seriously hurt. As a result Saki punishes Leo so severely and Leo gets the crack on his plastron. Usagi goes to see Leo, but it’s like he’s a totally different person after that. Leo no longer smiles or jokes and takes training much too seriously.

Karai isn’t much better. She seems to meet Leo’s cold attitude with one of her own, and her teasing becomes much harsher and biting. They all grow distant and Usagi sees no other option but to try and escape. Usagi even extends his hand to Leo when the two cross paths, hoping that Leo would snap out of this strange, new personality he’s adopted, but when Leo doesn’t even react, Usagi turns and leaves for good.

Things get even more strained without Usagi around to act as mediator. The only time Karai allows herself to show she cares, are the moments after Leo’s sessions because he is so out of it. She assumes he doesn’t remember enough that she can be a little softer with him, and Leo usually never calls attention to those times, so who knows.

Once Leo spends time with his family, and sees how a healthy sibling relationship should look, he often wonders how things might’ve been different growing up in the safety of the Hamato Clan. When the family learns that Karai is actually their sister, Leo makes it his mission to save her from the Foot Clan.

#rottmnt #separated au #rottmnt separated au #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #rise leo #rise karai #sep!au info dump #ew au #empyrian weeping au

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jjkeverlast · 2 years

Note

17 + 37 + 41 from the smut prompts list with jungkook 👁👁

be good for me | jjk

-> pairing fratboy!jk x female reader

-> genre smut, college au

-> summary you take a chance at showing up to one of the most popular frat parties, meeting no other than jeon jungkook, a fratboy who's famous amongst the women on campus. or is he?

-> word count 3.0k

-> warnings swearing, alcohol, masturbation, cum eating, finger sucking, fingering, handjob, lots of teasing, dirty talk, biting, protected sex!

-> author's note oop- got kinda carried away with this one, i'll try for future requests to keep it short, hope you enjoy either way love <333 (prompts are marked in bold!) be aware that i don't have taglists for requests! thank you <3

Frat parties. More like, parties where every girl on campus gets a chance to get a taste of one of the Bangtan Boys. You? You’re not included, by choice, to be exact. So it’s a surprise to your friend Mena to see you stepping inside of the so-called frat party after you clearly told her ‘’It’s childish and stupid.’’ It is, although you finished your paper a little too soon, and you didn’t want to sulk alone in your dorm room for the rest of the night. And a small part of you was curious over just why these frat parties are popular.

‘’Y/N! Am I dreaming? Are you really here?’’ Mena is shocked, of course she is. She’s never in her time of knowing you seen you enter a frat party by choice.

‘’I’m here, don’t pinch me.’’ You notice how crowded the house is, almost no space to really wander around. Thankfully Mena knew her way around this house and guided you to the bar, which actually is the kitchen filled with alcohol.

‘’Drink?’’ You hum a yes, tapping your fingers against the kitchen island, while Mena is pouring what seems to be a Vodka Red Bull. She finally hands you the red cup, leaning on the island while you let yourself taste the drink.

‘’It’s good.’’ You compliment her ‘bartender’ skills, letting the vodka aftertaste rest on your tongue for now.

‘’Well if it isn’t Y/N.’’ You hear from the corridor, which leads to the kitchen. You know that voice, the voice belonging to Jeon Jungkook. There isn’t a lot to say about him, besides that he’s most likely been in every girl’s pants on campus. At least that’s what the rumors say, but you aren’t really in on it. You know Jungkook from sharing the same course as him, Art Design. Seeing how he looks, it’s hard to think this man carries a creative mind, but he does!

‘’Jeon Jungkook.’’ You smile and Mena’s mouth is hanging open over you knowing Jungkook. It’s not because it’s unlikely to know him, most who do have either 1) been dicked down by him or 2) friend zoned. You? You’re either, which is why Mena’s mouth is still hanging open over your interaction with Jeon Jungkook.

‘’I’m gonna go say hi to Hoseok. Talk soon!’’ Mena squeezes your shoulder lightly, before stepping out of the kitchen leaving you alone with Jungkook.

‘’I cannot believe you’re at my frat party.’’

‘’Shocker. I know.’’ You take another sip while Jungkook’s laugh erupts in the room.

‘’Well, now that you’re here, let me show you around.’’ He takes your hand in his with no warning and drags you out of the kitchen. You take notice of his tattoos covering his hand and fingers but when you look up, all eyes are on you. Some girls are murmuring in the corner, subtly pointing their finger at you and Jungkook’s intertwined hands. People are getting the wrong idea and that makes you pull away from his grasp. Jungkook turns, seeing his hand is no longer getting warmed up by yours and his smile drops.

‘’This is the patio.’’ You both step out, the outdoor couches and chairs occupied by multiple couples, one of them being Hoseok and Mena. Jungkook catches you looking at your friend grinding herself on the fratboy.

‘’So this is what she meant by saying hi to him.’’ Jungkook’s lips turn into a thin line as he nods and guides you back inside. You’re stunned but happy for Mena getting some action tonight. She had complained for a while over how no one was that interesting to her. So to see her all hot and bothered for Hoseok? Brought a smile to your face. She deserves this.

Jungkook takes you upstairs, showing you a room one by one.

‘’This is Taehyung’s room.’’ He opens the door, revealing Taehyung’s head buried in between a girl’s legs sprawled in nothing but a bra on his bed. Both you and Jungkook’s eyes pop out of their sockets and he quickly shut the door again, letting Taehyung finish his job.

‘’Sorry about that.’’ He apologizes on his friend’s behalf, although it was 100% the both of you’s fault to open the door with no warning.

‘’And lastly, here’s mine.’’ The room is by luck not occupied by anyone. You take a look around, the wall decorated by Nirvana posters. Jungkook’s room is personal, which you admire. Your smile is on display as you walk around, catching a sight at his jewelry and cologne by his desk.

You hear a lock being turned which makes you stop in your tracks. He doesn’t think you’re stupid does he?

‘’What makes you think I’m going to fuck you?’’ You spit out, before Jungkook gets in over his head that you’d ever let him.

‘’Is that what you think I’m trying to accomplish?’’ Your head turns, seeing Jungkook grow confused over your bitter question. Now you feel stupid, by the looks of Jungkook’s face you’ve gotten the wrong idea of him — reasons being the rumors you’ve heard all over campus.

‘’Is it not?’’

‘’No.’’ He lets out a ‘this is unbelievable’ laugh and you feel downright dumb.

‘’Oh.’’ You turn back around, strolling through his room as it grows quiet between you. You let your hand play with the bedside table lamp, not daring to look into Jungkook’s eyes.

‘’Did you want it to be?’’ He breaks the silence, your hand stops and your heartbeat increases. Did you want him to?

‘’N-no.’’ Fuck. Your stutter definitely gave it away.

‘’Right.’’ Jungkook for once moves away from the locked door, sitting now on his bed, legs spread for your eyes. He looks mesmerizing. The long white sleeve rolled up, showcasing his sleeve and his baggy dark washed jeans making his thighs look inviting. You don’t know who’s speaking right now, you or the alcohol. But looking at Jungkook, with the golden yellow light from his lamp shining onto his face — makes you reconsider just what you want from him.

‘’Funny you’re saying no, yet you’re staring.’’

‘’I don’t know what you’re talking about.’’

‘’You’re bluffing.’’ He calls you out and you mentally take note to become a better liar in the future. ‘’Maybe I am.’’ You take some courage to sit next to Jungkook on his bed, rather than play with whatever is on his bedside table.

‘’Why can’t you just admit a part of you finds me attractive?’’

‘’Probably because I’ve heard one or two things about you on campus.’’ You’re honest, which surprises Jungkook hearing the reason behind you not being remotely brave with him.

‘’So now you’re believing rumors?’’

‘’It’s hard not to!’’ You protect yourself, you’ve never really gotten to know Jungkook — only been followed by rumors coming from every girl on campus.

‘’You know that most of the rumors are from girls I’ve rejected right?’’ Your mouth hangs open, not believing the rumors were made up. ‘’I didn’t.’’ Your fingers fidget with your denim skirt, the guilt seeping through your skin about you believing the rumors from the very beginning.

‘’Well, now you do.’’ Jungkook lets his hand run through his hair, waiting for you to say something, anything.

‘’I’m sorry.’’ It’s sincere, you looking at Jungkook showing him you’re truly sorry for letting your brain believe such gossip.

‘’It’s fine, just really disappointed me to know the one girl I like, only thinks I want one thing from her.’’ Your heart drops at his words, does he mean you? Does Jeon Jungkook like you?

‘’Are you saying—’’ You stop yourself, only for Jungkook to continue, ‘’yeah, thought it was pretty obvious when I took the same course as you.’’ You’re speechless, your mind not being able to comprehend that Jeon Jungkook chose the same course as you, reasons being he likes you. You were too quick to judge, if you really opened your eyes you’d probably be able to see that Jungkook was never after just a quick hookup.

‘’I’m so stupid.’’ You mumble in your hands, your face dropping down on them.

‘’Just a little.’’ He grins, his hand patting your back. It’s comforting, the warmth from his hand seeping through your blouse. ‘’I should’ve known you didn’t feel the same way. Yoongi warned me a long time ago.’’

‘’Stop.’’ You shush him, your finger lingering just over his lips. Jungkook’s adam's apple bops once, eyes moving from your eyes to your lips. ‘’Just stop.’’ You whisper, letting yourself relax for once. You drag your finger over his lips, Jungkook’s breath hitches from the contact.

‘’I do want you, so just stop.’’ Your finger traces the shape of his lips, letting it pull at the bottom lip, revealing the inner part. You’re imagining how his lips would feel on your clit, his tongue circling around it.

‘’Do you really?’’ Jungkook cuts off your dirty thoughts revolving his mouth and your finger stops in its tracks. ‘’Yes.’’ You let out, your lip getting tucked in between your teeth.

‘’Prove it. Prove how much you want me.’’ It’s a challenge and you’re surprised by Jungkook gaining sudden confidence since he was shy not even a minute ago.

You remove your hand from his face, placing your fingers by the entrance of your mouth. You pop a finger at the time, letting your tongue swirl around it, getting it nice and wet. Jungkook’s stunned, not expecting you to suck your fingers in his room, in front of him, at a frat party. It seems unbelievable. You maintain eye contact with Jungkook, his tongue poking at his lip piercing. Fuck, that’s hot.

You guide your fingers towards your entrance, Jungkook having a view of your thong as you’ve lifted your denim skirt to tease him a bit. He’s patient, keeping his hands to himself, letting you control.

You slip your wet fingers beneath the material, a whimper escaping your mouth as you let yourself feel just how wet you are for Jungkook. Meanwhile Jungkook is trying his best to remain calm, as he watches you grind yourself on your two fingers. You let your eyes fall shut, focusing more on the pleasure that erupts as you slowly push a finger at the time, letting yourself stretch. The end of your palm rubbing against your clit, making you bite back a sudden moan.

Jungkook grows hard, seeing you touch yourself, his name almost escaping your lips as you pant. He’s curious how your lips would feel, how you taste and how you’d feel around him. He wants to know, he’s almost on his knees for the answer. ‘’Please let me taste you.’’ You smirk at his request, letting your eyes open, finally getting a glimpse of Jungkook. He’s biting his lip, hand firmly grasping on his lap, trying it’s best not to grab onto his cock hardening under his jeans.

You stop moving your fingers, pulling them out and moving closer to Jungkook. ‘’Open.’’ He releases his bottom lip, his mouth falling open, you trace your fingers once again over his lips, teasing him with the taste of yourself resting on the end of your fingers. ‘’Suck on my fingers Koo.’’ His eyes light up over your demand, a small smirk appearing at the end of his lips before he fills his mouth with your coated fingers. His mouth feels warm, tongue circling around every inch of them. His eyes are squeezed shut, low moans exiting from his mouth. You’re in awe of the sight laid out in front of you. Jungkook bopping his head on your fingers, getting everything, not leaving any trace behind. He lets go of your fingers with a pop, his eyes back on yours. ‘’Shit, you taste amazi—’’

‘’Come here.’’ You pull him by the shirt, your lips molding with his. They’re soft, carrying the aftertaste of you but you don’t mind. You feel Jungkook smiling in the kiss and it resolves into you having butterflies swarming at the bottom of your stomach.

‘’Mmm— can I fuck you?’’ Jungkook pulls away, his nose nuzzling against yours as you both pant to catch your breaths. You want nothing more than for Jungkook to be in between your legs, but seeing you have a lot of control over him, you want to play for a little longer.

‘’Are you sure?’’ He nods and you grin, removing his hand gripping on his cock and guiding it towards your entrance. He’s careful when he pushes two inside of you, immediately filling you up. You hum in pleasure by the way his fingers curl nicely between your walls.

‘’Are you sure it could fit? It’s not too tight is it?’’ You’re trying your best not to laugh but when Jungkook’s expression turns to offense, you’re bursting. You’re quick to shut up when Jungkook moves his fingers inside of you, making you gasp from the sudden movement.

‘’You’re such a tease. I’ll show you.’’

‘’Show me.’’ You pull him back for a kiss only he stops, hovering over you instead and peppering your neck with kisses, and light biting. His fingers still resting inside of you, keeping you filled until it’s finally exchanged with his cock. When he’s at last settled in between your legs, your hands go to grab his erection, only he stops you.

‘’Be patient.’’ You roll your eyes at his act, but obeying either way. Your hand tracing patterns on his sleeve, looking down seeing how his fingers pump in and out of you.

‘’I don’t know how long I can be—’’ You feel the smirk forming on Jungkook’s lips, as he runs his tongue over your exposed neck. The tables have turned, him now in total control over you and you being nothing but a mess under his touch.

‘’Come on Y/N, be good for me.’’ He bites down on your earlobe and you fight every part of you to not give in and touch his cock that’s poking your inner thigh. Your grip tightens around Jungkook’s sleeve, impatience growing within you but you want to be good for Jungkook and show him how patient you can be for him.

‘’Yeah, that’s it.’’ His praise helps you keep your hands away from him. To your luck Jungkook kisses you again, the aftertaste still lingering on his tongue. You’re quick to wrap your arms around his neck, letting your tongue play with his. He feels so soft and warm and you never want to stop touching him, feeling him up so close to you and the slight graze of his lip piercing in the corner of your mouth.

‘’Touch me.’’ He mumbles against your lips and you’re cheering internally, content over being able to touch him. You drag your hands across his chest and longer down to his abs, them finally reaching his zipper and getting under his briefs. Jungkook hisses from the contact of your hand finally dragging over his cock. You pump in a slow and tender pace, sending Jungkook on edge. Small pants escape his lips and a low moan when your thumb traces over his tip, smearing the pre-cum all over.

‘’Fuck this.’’ Jungkook stops you, removing his fingers from inside of you, hiking your skirt up in a hurry and pushing your thong to the side.

‘’Look who’s being patient now.’’ You tease as you spread your legs wider, wanting nothing more than to feel Jungkook fully in you.

Your fingers are already tracing circles on your clit, growing desperate to reach an awaited orgasm. Jungkook’s never been faster in taking off his clothes, throwing them across the room one by one.

‘’I’ve been waiting too long for this to be patient.’’ His hand grabs ahold of the handle to his night table, fishing for a condom. To his luck, he’s quick to find one and unwraps it with his bunny teeth. You feel nervous, not because of the act itself, no, it’s because it’s with Jeon Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook you’ve never imagined having a chance with, yet here you are, about to have sex with him after he admitted he likes you.

He moves back down to you, his left hand cupping your cheek as he presses a kiss. As the kiss deepens, you feel him guide himself inside of you. The stretch is bigger than his fingers, pleasing and filling. When he’s nestled fully in, he presses a chaste kiss to your forehead.

‘’It’s not too big is it?’’ He smirks, mocking your remark from earlier making you giggle slightly. You hum a no, leaving him grinning with you. You go back to attacking your lips with his, never growing tired of kissing him. He begins to rock his hips against you, the action making you gasp against his mouth, parting your lips as you let out breathless moans. You’re losing yourself completely in Koo’s embrace. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, and as he picks up a strong pace an orgasm reaches your body slowly. You praise him, letting your teeth and mouth sink in his shoulder, to refrain yourself from moaning too loud and causing attention to the rest of campus. But fuck does he feel good.

Your back arches in response, when his tip grazes over your g-spot, your fingers almost growing numb from touching your clit. Jungkook takes notice, pressing his thumb on your clit to help you release all over him. You encourage him to continue, your pants increasing as he continues to slam his hips in a rhythmic pace.

The build up increases, your teeth biting harder down on his shoulder as you finally come undone, letting out small puffs. Jungkook feels you coating him, looking down seeing the condom smeared in your arousal. He’s so proud of himself to have you come undone beneath him and biting his shoulder to refrain from screaming too loud for others to hear. The sight of you being such a mess, sends Jungkook till his own, giving you a final thrust as he fills the condom up. You’re both a mess, panting to catch your breaths, a smile on display on the both of you.

‘’Did I prove it?’’

‘’Mhm.’’ He captures your lips again, humming in satisfaction over finally having you.

#jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungguk smut #bts smut #jungkook fic #bts fanfic #bts #jungkook #bts jeon jungkook #jungkook x female reader #jeon jungguk #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook bts #bts jk #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader

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writing-house-of-m · 11 months

Text

Addiction

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Genre: Angst

Warnings: Talks of drinking and drugs. Sexual themes but nothing completely explicit. Toxic relationship. Manipulation. Cheating.

Word count: 3159

Summary: You can't stop yourself from falling under Wanda's spell

A/N: I thought of this when I heard the line "There's something about the way you look tonight" from the song Billie Bossa Nova by Billie Eilish. I actually didn't realise how similar this was to the song until I listened to it again then tweaked it to fit the song a bit more. Also, this is very different to what I usually write so I'd appreciate any comments letting me know what you think. As always, enjoy!

CHECK THE WARNINGS BEFORE READING, I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT MEDIA YOU CONSUME

These parties were becoming more and more of a nuisance with how often you were being forced to attend them.

There was no point in you being here.

Happy people having fun, you would roll your eyes more if you could.

A final space is waiting at the bar as if it is reserved for you. Taking the seat you order a drink then look around. Seeing the different groups of people chatting away does nothing to help you. You really do not want to be here.

You turn your back on the excited murmur, trying to drown it all out whilst waiting for your drink. You wish you could have ordered something stronger, anything to cover up the bitterness in your mouth. The gum in your mouth now feels like you are chewing on plastic. It is just something to distract you anyway.

When the bartender places your drink in front of you, you immediately take a sip. The ice in your glass clinks against the edges when you turn in your seat to look at the crowd of people that fill the room once more.

Pretentious is one word to describe them. People who want nothing more than to look important. Elite. When really everybody is just as scared as the next person to lose their deluxe lifestyle.

Not long later your head turns to the entrance when two people arrive. Your gaze moves along with them as they walk into the venue, arm in arm, greeting different people as they pass. The 'perfect' couple.

It makes you sick but when you try to pull your eyes away you can't. There is something about the way she looks tonight. She always did look good in red.

It isn't as strong as it can be but she will always have you under her spell. Your attention is drawn away when a hand brushes her cheek. A hand that isn't yours. No. It is from the one she chose in place of you.

The action is enough to get you to look away as if someone has thrown poison in your eyes.

You take another sip of your drink and just as you expected it does nothing to calm you. It is like there is no taste. All that is left in your mouth is a sourness since she left you.

The woman who haunts your dreams isn't yours anymore. These stupid parties are an additional reminder of that. It is bad enough you have to see them every day around the compound together.

You can't even look him in the eye. Your mind is filled with thoughts you shouldn't have about her anymore.

It's not your fault you know what she looks like under that dress. The intoxicating sounds she makes when you press all the right buttons. How sweet she tastes. Everything is dull in comparison.

You miss being able to steal that nectar from her lips at random times of the day. It has changed your pallet forever. Nothing will ever compare, no matter how hard you try to replace it.

The weight on your chest, that was supposed to get lighter with time, just gets heavier. Guilt always lingering in the back of your mind.

A sarcastic voice pulls you out before you can spiral any further, "And here I thought you would be pouting." Natasha. Always there to make you realise how childish you are behaving.

Natasha was the biggest advocate for you and Wanda. She still hopes one day you will reconcile, even with that walking toaster in the way.

You clench your jaw, a probable gloomy look resting on your face as you let out a sigh and look down at the glass leaving your hands damp with condensation.

"Please don't, Nat," you try to push her away. Knowing your friend though, this was long from over.

"What? I just came over to see if you wanted to dance," she says casually but you know there is a reason for it.

Your eyes fall to the dance floor. Wanda's arms are wrapped around the wrong person. She looks happy, a slight blush on her cheeks that makes her look youthful. You can't help but feel jealous. She used to look at you like that.

The weight on your chest grows heavier. You knew you wouldn't make it through tonight. It's why you didn't want to come but 'appearances need to be upheld'. Who are you to not meet Tony's demands? He has given you a place to live after all.

"No." It comes out a little more aggressively than you want it to but you know Nat won't take it personally.

"Ouch," she feigns hurt, "Is this how you treat a lady that wants you?"

A scoff leaves your lips and you smile a little at the joke, deciding to reciprocate, "I'll let you know when a lady approaches me," you smirk.

Natasha chuckles, glad for the win to get you out of your head, even if it is just for a second.

"You know how Steve feels about gum at these functions," she says, extending her arm, a napkin resting in the palm of her hand for you to spit out the flavorless substance into.

As Natasha scrunches the paper into a ball leaving it on the bar top you explain, "It distracts me from wanting to put a 'death stick' in my mouth."

"Well, I could always distract you if that's what you wanted," she flirts with an eyebrow raised.

You shake your head at her antics. A small smile is on your face as you look down into your drink. There are darker shade spots on your pants from where droplets of water have rolled off your glass.

Natasha takes the tumbler from your hand and places it next to the discarded napkin. She then pulls you from your seat, "Come on. Dance with me."

You let her guide you, keeping your eyes to the ground so you don't see the green ones you used to wake up to.

When you make it to the crowded floor Natasha places your hand on her waist, the other one following shortly after as she wraps hers behind you, drawing you in and resting her head against your chest.

It's a slow song so Natasha stays close to you, unbeknownst to you she is keeping an eye out for Wanda.

Getting bored of looking at the ground you close your eyes and take in the warmth that Natasha provides with her closeness. The comforting press of her chest against you, her shampoo invading your nostrils, soothing as you sway lightly to the soft music. You were never good at dancing but this, you could do.

It must be a few songs later because the people who surround you are different to those who were there when you first arrived.

There is a misstep on your part and you bump into someone, an automatic 'sorry' falls from your lips before you see who it is.

"It's okay," Wanda smiles at you and you almost forget how to breathe. You shouldn't be here. You have been doing so well breaking old habits.

Natasha links her arm in yours standing next to you as you avert your eyes, clearing your throat. You can't look at either of them, especially the android. The bitter taste you are so familiar with makes itself known at the back of your throat.

Vision and Wanda exchange a few words of greeting with you and Nat before Vision looks in the distance. He then excuses himself saying Tony was calling him over.

The habit of you trying to stop clenching your teeth is really being tested right now, you can't help yourself so you give in to the action. Especially when Natasha decides to play wingwoman, excusing herself next and telling you to dance with Wanda now that you were both alone.

This is not what you needed. All your hard work is about to come crumbling down and you know it.

Natasha often talks about how good you are for one another and how she wants to see the two of you flourish once more.

If only she knew.

All you want to do is run away. Get as far away from Wanda as possible but old habits die hard. The smell of her perfume and inviting smile doing nothing to help your resolve.

Wanda takes her position, arms around your neck. Your hands rest on her waist keeping her at, a literal, arms length away. You fall into step with the music, this is all a familiar well rehearsed dance between you two.

She tries to hold your eye contact but you look behind her, "I saw you by the bar, but you don't smell like your usual order," Wanda analyses. "You stopped smoking too?" She adds inquisitively. Your reply comes as a slow nod, still looking at a random spot in the distance behind the band not wanting to get hooked by her gaze.

"You're doing better than you ever did when we were together, malysh," your jaw clenches hard. Whether it is because of accusation or the pet name, you are not sure.

Wanda can feel how tense you are. Your shoulders are practically up to your ears so she strokes the back of your hair, fingernails lightly scratching the sensitive area.

"Just relax," she whispers, making you exhale slowly. Her actions and warm breath fanning over your face makes you do just that, your eyelids falling slowly, shoulders dropping evidently, "That's it baby, it's just you and me."

She pulls you closer so she can whisper directly in your ear. Her words calm you down unlike any drink or narcotic you've consumed before.

Her voice is soothing, so much so that you are under her spell once more. She has never needed to use her powers to have you under her control. You were always weak whenever it came to Wanda. "Let's get out of here," your head bobs up and down, slowly agreeing to her command. You allow yourself to get pulled along by her, out on to a private balcony.

It is like you are on autopilot, turning into the character she likes you to be. You just want to make her happy after all.

Wanda rounds a corner where you both know nobody inside will be able to see the two of you. Facing you she walks backwards, holding onto your jacket. She leans against the wall pulling you closer. One of your hands holds your weight beside her head as the other goes to squeeze her waist.

Wanda pulls you by your collar to close the distance. Your lips were always much better at dancing, especially against hers.

It wasn't always like this. You were heartbroken when she left you, you still are heartbroken, and you know it's wrong because she is with Vision now. But you still crave her. She is an addiction you cannot break. So you will take whatever she gives you - the best and worst kind of torture.

Heat travels up your neck, filling your cheeks and the tips of your ears. Your senses are overtaken by Wanda. Her sweet taste invades your mouth, her nails scratching your scalp as she holds onto you tighter when the kiss gets rougher.

You press your body against her tightly, your hands finding the bottom of her dress pulling it up. Her heavy breathing is interrupted by a gasp as the cool air hits her warm skin. You take this as the perfect moment to move your kisses to her neck and lift her so her legs are wrapped around you. That is when Wanda feels the bulge in your pants.

"I hope you weren't thinking of anyone else but me, malysh," she says between breaths.

There is an innocent pout on her face when you look at her and mindlessly reply, "Only you."

Your lips land on Wanda's as she tries to rub herself against you but you hold her still, pressing her against the wall even more, making her grunt in frustration when she can feel the hardness pressing into her. "I need more," she exasperates.

You roll your hips with hers, giving her the smallest bit of satisfaction for a moment, making her moan loudly. "Please sweetheart. I need you, you know what I like," she holds your jaw roughly, nails digging into your skin. "No one can fuck me like you do."

Her words almost make you lose all of the self control you still have left, but you come to your senses when a cold gust of wind hits you, making you remember where you are. "Not here," you whisper. You then leave a trail of kisses along her jaw finishing with a peck on her lips.

You let her down and keep out of sight as you walk hastily to get to your room. Wanda smirks, biting her lip when you make it to the elevator. She pushes you against the far wall then attacks your lips and neck. Unbuttoning your shirt to leave a mark or two on your collar bone. You don't get the same privilege.

No one can know.

When you finally make it to your floor, you enter your room only wanting to make Wanda feel good. The little voice in the back of your mind reminding you she is no longer yours is forgotten as your rendezvous continues.

…

Wanda sleeps against you. The sound of her light breathing filling the air.

Her warmth and having her tangled in your sheets comes at the cost of your sanity. To you it is but a small price to pay.

No one knows about this and it has to stay that way.

You can't even tell Nat. She understands why Wanda initially broke up with you but now that you were doing better she has hoped you would have reconciled if not for Vision.

You try to take in the peace of the night. You try not to think about the guilt that lingers after you fall into bed with each other. You try not to think about the fact that Wanda will have already disappeared by the time you wake up in the morning. You try not to think about the rehearsed repeated lie you tell Nat when she asks where you disappeared to before the night ended.

The woman in your arms will always be the love of your life. She will always take advantage of you because she knows she can and you will do whatever you can to get whatever crumbs she will give you.

…

Falling to sleep always came easier when she was in your arms. You stir awake when you can no longer feel the comfortable weight on your chest.

Lifting your head, you are confused when you see her almost out of bed, "Wanda?" You ask groggily, reaching for her wrist.

There is no reply but your mind catches up, it is the time of the night where she leaves you for the arms of another. You let out a sigh and drop your head into the plush pillow whispering, "Stay."

"Go back to sleep, Y/n," Wanda lays next to you, stroking your hair. "You know I have to go."

"Please stay," your voice is barely audible because of the tight knot that has presented itself in your throat.

You don't mean to sound so desperate but you are tired and far too broken to pretend that you are okay.

Wanda wraps her arms around you as she continues to stroke your hair. She shushes you and whispers sweet words in your ear as your face presses against her bare chest.

It doesn't take long for you to fall into the depths of slumber once more.

The next time you wake up, Wanda is gone. The once warm sheets are now cold, holding another secret which costs you a piece of yourself.

The bitter taste has returned to your mouth once more as you get up to start your day.

It is long before most people will be getting up considering the party the night before. You pick out a loose t-shirt and some sweats so you can take advantage of the empty kitchen before anyone else gets up.

You start up the coffee machine and wait for it to heat, trying to find peace in this quiet morning. Just like all good things, it comes to an end, "Morning stranger," you hear the husky voice of your friend.

You try not to roll your eyes, knowing she would have some way of knowing even without seeing your face, "Looks like someone had some fun," Natasha says pointing out the marks on your neck. "What was her name?"

After you pour two mugs of the hot beverage you turn to face her with a tight-lipped smile, "Distraction," taking a small sip after.

The coffee is not strong enough to cover the distaste in your mouth.

"Okay, fine. Don't tell me," she says as she gets closer. "But I am glad you had some fun," Natasha says, rounding the island to pick up the mug you left for her.

You raise an eyebrow, "Don't I always?" Which Natasha scoffs at. "If you don't mind, I'm going to finish this in my room before our training."

As you walk back you hear a door open and close, figuring it will be Steve, you don't look up until you recognise the two voices.

You divert your attention from Vision as soon as you make contact with his synthetic blue eyes, your sluggish steps never stopping. The guilt creeps up the back of your throat, so you do your best to clear it.

Vision greets you first, "Good morning, agent Y/l/n." Who is followed by Wanda giving you a sweet smile, "Morning Y/n."

"Morning," you manage to get out as you brush past them. You make it to your room and swiftly close the door behind you.

Placing your coffee down on your desk, you lean over it taking a deep breath. Hot tears threaten to fall but you try with everything you have to push them down and control your breathing.

The lies are easy, you have always been good at telling them - when the drinking became too much and you were out getting whatever you could get your hands on to dull the ache that comes with being an Avenger, the lies would easily spill from your lips. It's keeping up the act that is the difficult part.

You know you shouldn't but you think about the inevitable; falling back into bed with Wanda again. You could call it an obsession at this point.

You just wish you were stronger, to be able to stay away from her but you know it is impossible. Because you are an addict and you will indulge for as long as she will let you.

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woeswrites · 1 year

Text

Yandere Daryl Dixon

Warnings: Yandere themes, Obsessive behaviors, Nonconsensual kissing, etc.

At first Daryl's feelings for you were completely normal

If anything they were a little childish

It played out like something from elementary school

He was a little standoffish/aggressive towards you

Always taking a jab when he could at anything he could think of

Liking to set you off and see you try and fire something back only for it to never really land

"You shouldn't talk so much. You'd contribute a lot more around here if you just shut it you know?"

"I don't remember asking for advice Daryl..."

You were convinced you had done something to tick the hunter off

In reality, he was confused about the weird feeling being around you gave him

He felt sick to his stomach

Not in a throwing up sort of way... but it was something he couldn't ignore no matter how hard he tried

He found himself staring at you whenever you were around

He even picked up on your small mannerisms, taking a mental note whenever he saw one in action

He found them kind of cute?

Like whenever you knitted your eyebrows after losing a game of cards

Or when you scrunched your nose after having seen the daily hunt he'd just picked up

OR the way your mouth quirked up a little to the right whenever you successfully landed a shot

ORRR--

He could go on and on

He had never paid this much attention to anyone before

It was freaking him out just how much time you had started taking up in his life

He tried to get you off his mind

He'd never needed someone before and god be damned if he would need someone now

Or at least that's what he tried telling himself

Every time he saw a duck he definitely didn't spend extra time hunting to snag it

How would he have known you had an affinity for poultry?

It was just a coincidence that he found them on his way back

You'd also been the only one he deemed fit to learn how to use his crossbow

Not because he liked you

No, you just sucked at using a rifle

He had to give you some survival skills

What started out as a normal (albeit unwanted) crush developed into something completely different after that day

You'd gone out with Glenn and Maggie, something about picking up baby formula for Rick's kid

He wasn't too worried about it

Glenn knew what he was doing, so did Maggie, you were just there for some extra hands and in emergencies a little bit of added strength

That's what Daryl tried telling himself

That was until the three of you never turned back up

They had all waited and waited and still there was no sign of you

Soon a stranger showed up in your place

She had with her baby formula

Daryl could tell something was wrong

He immediately took her inside the gates of the jail, demanding to know if she had any idea of what happened

Michonne was her name

She didn't speak much but she said enough

She mentioned an Asian with his brunette girlfriend and an accompanying guy with a few arrows on his back

They had all been taken by some guy

Daryl felt his heart drop

He had no idea if you were okay or not

He felt like apart of himself had been ripped away from him at the idea of not knowing if he would ever see you again

He couldn't lose you, he had already lost so much

Once he got you back he was going to make sure you knew how much you actually meant to him and keep you safe

He would be insistent that the group went out as soon as possible, not resting easy until they found the group safe and sound

Along with Michonne, Rick, and Oscar, Daryl managed to find the place you were being held captive

They sneak throughout the town despite Daryl wanting to just blast his way through to you

Despite some hiccups he managed to make it to you and before anything else, gave you a big hug

You cough hard when he crashed into you but Daryl didn't let go, he was too caught up in finally getting to know you were okay

As soon as he realized they didn't have much time he quickly began to remove your restraints

He smiled after you thanked him, forgetting for a moment the kind of situation you were in just from being able to hear your pretty voice

He quickly recuperated and demanded that him and the rest of the group attack those who dared mess with them

Both Rick and Glenn objected, there were too many of them to ensure a win

Despite his aggravation Daryl conceded with them

When Glenn told him about his brother he couldn't even find it in himself to care

If he had the nerve to take you away from him he wasn't worth it

In fact, Daryl swore to himself that if he ever saw the man again he would kill him himself

With little issue you were swiftly brought back to camp alongside the rest of the crew

Daryl took you into his cell and began to bandage you up as the rest of them settled down

"Wouldn't it be better if Hershel took care of this?"

"I can't have that, I just got you back I'm not handing you off already"

His behavior was odd but you chalked it up to the stress of the whole situation

That was until it never seemed to stop

No matter where you went or what you went to do Daryl accompanied you

At first you fought back

...that didn't last long

"Do I look like I'm taking no for an answer Y/n?"

Not only did you have to spend all day with him

At night he would confine you to his cell with him

It started off decently enough, Daryl having asked if you could room with him for the night and offering to take the floor

"I just want some company. I was so worried about you, y'know?"

It then developed further

You would spend every night together and slowly but surely he worked his way into the bed beside you

At night you would be locked in place by Daryl's solid arms

Even while sleeping he seemed to have this need to protect you

He also began to isolate you after finding out Andrea was apart of Woodbury

"If she could do this to you, then why wouldn't anyone here? Just stay with me, I'll keep you safe"

Daryl only trusted Carol coming around you and even that was scarce

For the most part it was just you and him, either in his cell or out in the woods as he started dragging you out with him on his hunts to keep a better eye on you

Somewhere along the line this new routine for him started to make him a little delusional

Without having even brought it up to you Daryl began to go around telling everyone how you were his and it was only right for two boyfriends to spend time together

When you had heard you tried laughing it off but Daryl would have none of that

He helped assure you he was not joking by pinning you against the bed one night

"You're mine, you get that? I'm not letting you go, not again"

Before you could say or do anything he roughly kissed you, showing you just how serious he was being

That pretty much sealed the deal

After that he became a lot more open with yours and his "relationship" not feeling shy to show his ownership in front of the others (if they ever even saw you that is)

You were never getting out of this man's sight

The world had become far too dangerous and you were far too special to him

No walker or human would step between the two of you

Not ever

#he/him #male reader #daryl x reader #daryl x male reader #yandere daryl #yandere daryl dixon #possessive love #TWD #yandere walking dead #TWD yandere #Daryl #Daryl Dixon

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vinziel · 21 days

Text

He's still got it.....I'm not Jealous

John Dory x Male Reader x Hickory

While on the way to vacay island, you couldn't help but overhear Hickory and John Dory's conversation, they were talking like some cute couple....you and John used to be a cute couple...ugh you tried to not think about it, why are you feeling like this. Why? Is it because you still love him?! No! You should hate him....right? He left you! Abandoned you like some trash. Even if, he's got someone else now.

Once you all arrived at vacay island there was Spruce, surfboarding to a restaurant, you all immediately followed him inside, you come to the realization Spruce actually owns this place. John Dory tries to get his attention, but Spruce just throws a menu on his face, not knowing who's calling him "Spruce it's us! You're brothers!" John Dory says, Spruce then gasp, turns around yelling "Woah! Bitty B!" Proceeding to throw Bitty B around, John letting out a faint "What?" Hickory then just lightly patted him on the back.

Spruce says "Wet Willy!" As he gave Branch a wet willy, Branch then stopped Spruce, saying "Stop! I am a grown up!" He says in frustration "Oh sorry a wet william" Spruce jokes, which makes you laugh "It's been a while Spruce!" You say, giving Spruce a hug, which he reciprocated "It's been a while too Y/N!" He then breaks the hug saying "Also it's Bruce now" "Woah a name change. Cool" You answer.

Bruce sees Hickory and Poppy and asks "Who are they?" "Oh he's/she's my partner" Branch and John Dory say in unison, Bruce hums and jokes "Wow Bitty B got some game" nudging Branch, which Branch just sighs frustratingly. John Dory then interrupts the conversation saying "Spruce!" "Bruce" Bruce corrects John Dory

He responds with "Oh right. Well we're actually here to-" "Wait let me introduce you all to the fam!" Bruce says, leading you all to the counter "This is my wife and business partner Brandy!" He says, as Brandy gives him a kiss on the cheeks "Honey these are my brothers! Unexpectedly" "Oh hello! It's nice to finally meet you all!" Brandy says. You were all a bit confused on how their relationship worked but supported none the less

John Dory then takes Bruce closer to the group and says "Bruce it's an emergency, it's Floyd he's been captured!" "What?! We need to call the police!" Bruce says, John responds "No no! We need to hit the family Harmony. It's the only way to break the bottle Floyd's trapped in. The police won't help because these guys that got Floyd are famous! And we don't even have proof!" "Good point" Bruce says, nodding in agreement "So how about we practice!" John Dory says, waving his arms, a big smile on his face.

Hickory chuckles at his boyfriends childish actions "I agree, practicing will do ya good" "I don't know" Bruce says, then one of his kids says "See guys! I told you dad wasn't in a band" Bruce gets offended and responds "I was! Ask your mother" "He was in a band alright" Brandy says, Bruce and John Dory go to the stage, Poppy asks "Aren't you gonna join your brothers?" "what no" Branch answers "Oh ok, it's alright if you can't handle it Branch" Poppy responds "Yup, we don't wanna force you if you're not up to the challenge" You add

"I can handle it! I'm just saving my voice for Floyd" Branch retorts, offended, you and Poppy smirk before chanting with Bruce's kids "Prove it! Prove it! Do it!" "ugh fine" Branch finally gives in. They finally perform and you just watch from the sidelines. Hickory and Poppy got invited to dance as well by John and Branch. You can't help but feel even the tiniest bit of jealousy, and you're not sure why.

Is it because you still love John? Is it because he just abandoned you out of nowhere along with Branch then just appears decades later with someone else? Maybe, you can't help but look in awe as they perform, you remember the days of Brozone, when you would watch their performances in awe, and when you actually started dating the leader, it was unbelievable for you.

You snapped out of it, noticing you've been staring at John and his new boyfriend for a while. You sigh, just trying to focus on something else, just kinda, trying not to think about it. It's hard. Real hard. So you went to the beach, and just sat on the sand, focusing on the ocean, your mind starts to wander as your eyes stare into the waves. You were in a trance-like state.

You didn't even notice how much time had gone by until Branch had to snap you out of it with Poppy "Hm?" You hum, snapping back to reality "Finally, why were you just staring into the ocean?" Branch asks "Oh it's nothing, don't worry too much" You assure Branch "If you say so, come on we're leaving" Branch responds, you three go back inside Rhonda, as John starts driving away.

(TBC)

#trolls 3 #trolls #trolls john dory #john dory #brozone x male reader #male reader #gay #john dory x reader #trolls branch #bruce trolls #trolls band together #queen poppy #trolls poppy #john dory x male reader #fanfiction #gay trolls #trolls hickory #hickdory

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trulytiredhermit · 8 months

Note

How about a reader who has deadly plushie bomb like Amber's Baron Bunny (A character from Genshin Impact)

Can you imagine if one of the links accidentally setting off the bomb plushie (if they didn't know the plushie had a bomb in there)

*Okay so I don't actually know anything about Genshin Impact so just gonna take Bomb Plushie and run with it lol!

Also I just went with that it's a bunny plushie because again I don't know anything about Genshin Impact or the Character.

Totally also not because I think it would be absolutely hilarious if Reader had a deadly pink bunny plushie

Also, sorry if Wind maybe seems out of character at the start! Since he’s getting into that teenager stage and maybe even from influence of Tetra’s crew, I somewhat headcannon him as trying to appear more ‘manly’ and mature the whole:

‘I don’t do ___ anymore because I’m a man now’ shtick

But he secretly still does/wants to

(Also, I'm trying out some dividers! let me know what y'all think of them!)*

Reader With A Plushie Bomb!

Wind stared at the pink plushie with a raised brow and a hint of perplexation in his eyes.

He knew Reader had told him not to touch it whatsoever and he responded with a little scoff of how he was far too old and manly to play with toys anymore.

but... it's warm, fluffly, pink fur just looked so inviting...

He had to touch it, just once he told himself and that was it!

Reaching out his fingers just barely grazed the silky fur of the plushie before it was taken away and Wind gaped in surprise.

Wild looked down at the toy curiously, turning it about as he smoothed the plush fur of the toy.

“This is a lot softer than Riju’s seal plushies, I’d love to have one.”

Wind snatched the toy out of the older man’s hands, first marveling at its softness before speaking up.

“Y-You’d actually want one of these? But I mean…” His words grew softer as if he wished for no one else to hear what he spoke of next.

“They’re toys though it’s not… manly right? I-It’s little kids stuff.”

The Champion just gave a small shake of his head with a bit of a smile present on his face, a chuckle breaking the silence.

"The Old man has said you can still be a kid at heart and be grown up at the same time? And besides as far as I'm concerned, if I want something I'm going to get it even if that something is seen as being 'childish'."

The young teen let out a soft sound, turning his attention back to the plushie within his hands he turned it around, admiring the cute dark pink bow that went well with its pink fur and long floppy ears where tufts of white resided to resemble the ears of a real rabbit.

"I think Aryll would like something like this... she always made me play dolls with her when we were younger."

His mind flashed with memories: Aryll forcing one of her dollies into his hand while she held the other, her voice becoming higher in pitch as she talked through her doll before returning to her normal with a small glare towards him until he begrudgingly began to play along, high-pitched voice and all.

Back then he had been slightly annoyed at the time but now? Right now he'd give anything to be back home playing with his little sister even if it was dolls.

"...I think I can agree with you about wanting one of these now, the bow feels so smooth too."

Wind rubbed at the silky bow around the toy's neck, Wild smiled at that and nodded, agreeing as he brought his scarred hand to feel the bow as well.

The soft sounds of the open plain surrounded them as they simply sat in the pleasant sounds of nature: the slight whooshing of the small breezes that swept their hair, the rustling of distant trees as said breeze swayed their branches full of leaves, the ticking sound from the...

The duo's ears twitched.

A ticking sound? Why was there a ticking sound all of a sudden?

A thick southern accent sounded behind them as the rancher of the group came closer with the others in tow, curious and perplexed looks upon their face at his actions until they too got close enough to hear the strange sound.

"How're ya makin' it do that tickin' noise?"

Twilight leaned over Wind due to his height, taking a closer look at the toy.

"Sounds like one of 'em fancy clocks they got up in Castle Town. Real cute though ain't it Legend?"

"Don't you start dog breath."

Legend rolled his eyes as Twilight barked out a laugh, even their resident Skyloftian seemed to be having a bit of a chuckle himself at the clear resemblance between the fluffy pink bunny toy and Legend's other form.

"Is that noise getting faster?"

Four noted, raising a brow as the mechanical sound did seem to be gaining in speed.

"I think it is. You know it's almost like it's counting down to something."

Hyrule added in as he marveled at the toy having never really seen many things like it within his own Hyrule.

Suddenly something seemed to click in the eldest of the group's mind as his one good eye widened and he let out a shout of warning.

"Everyone down now!"

Grabbing the toy, Time threw it as far away he could before taking cover with the rest behind his shield. Everyone was on-guard now.

The toy hit a patch of grass, landing just shy of a nearby tree, laying there harmless and innocent in all of it's fluffy pink glory yet none of the group made to move from their defensive position.

"What was wrong with it?"

Time didn't even turn, he knew it was Wars who had asked the question, likely with his own keen eyes never once leaving the toy just like Time was doing.

Call it instinct but Time was familiar with such mechanisms within things that looked like they could have been toys. That ticking sound reminded him of a tool he had used back when he was a child stuck in that dreaded three-day time loop.

"It sounded like it was a-"

A loud deafening boom had everyone's eyes going wide like saucers as the charming little pink toy rabbit was spread apart the area like one of Wild's Korok puzzles.

And the tree that stood idle by the once put together toy?

Well, it simply wasn't there, only a dark and charred impact area was in its place with fiery splintered wood all about.

A shiver racked through Legend as he stared at what could only have been the pink rabbit's head, now charred with its pink fur looking gooey and melted rather than fluffy.

Yeah, this would definitely be haunting him at night.

"It was a bomb?! HOLY FU-"

"Language."

Wind's near curse was put on pause as three sets of eyes, well two sets and one eye really, were watching him with stern looks. Of course, these eyes belonged to none other than the resident mother hens of their little group: Time, Twilight, and Sky.

Pouting, the sailor kicked a rock, grumbling to himself softly about how he "was old enough to swear now" and "it was a bomb disguised as a toy, that deserves a swear".

"Such craftmanship, I wonder how it was even made. To have something so delicate as a bomb be hidden within a toy that one could throw around yet only detonate when its bow was touched?"

Their resident smithy was off mumbling to himself as he marveled and pondered how such a thing was possible, clearly, he wanted to meet the maker and question them heavily.

"I think what we should really be focusing on is if this was a surprise attack from the shadow or other enemies like the Yiga. We are in your world after all Champion, have they done this sort of thing before?"

With his mind set in captain mode, Wars was going through all the negative scenarios about this; thinking that the toy must have either swapped out for the real thing to harm one of them or, goddesses forbid, their dear companion.

"No never, all they've really been capable of is disguising themselves as travelers. Something like this is out of their league."

A hurried set of footsteps sounded behind them, a panting voice coming out soon after.

"Hey what's going on?! I heard an explosion and-"

(Name)'s voice trailed off as they took in the scene: the bits of burnt pink and the boys' cautious behavior as Twilight pulled them in to the group huddle while Sky wrapped a protective arm around their shoulders.

"It is good that you're here, we think the Shadow or another enemy of ours set a trap for you. Don't worry, while you travel with us we'll-"

Sky's hushed attempt at soothing words was cut short.

"Which one of you didn't listen about not touching my stuffed bunny? I told you guys to not go around touching my things! At least one of you was able to realize the danger before disaster struck! For heaven's sake, it was a bomb you guys!"

A quiet hush fell over the group; wide eyes looking towards each other, over to the decimated area where the remains of the toy lay, and finally turning to look at their dear companion who glared down at them with what could only be described as the look a parent would give to their child when caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

Then the group had an explosion of their own.

"What-you made it?!"

"You knew it was a bomb?!"

"What do you mean it was a bomb? I'VE SEEN YOU SLEEP WITH THAT THING!!"

Cries of shock and surprise filling the air while a few members only let out sighs of relief that this wasn't an attack from some outside source.

Meanwhile, (Name) just stared back, shrugging their shoulders nonchalantly as if this were just another Tuesday afternoon and they hadn't built a toy bunny with an explosive device capable of disposing a small building stuffed within it.

"As if it's hard, I've been building stuff like this for ages now and besides who says a bomb can't also be cuddly and cute."

Time rubbed the bridge of his nose, a heavy sigh leaving his lips as he stood. Placing his hand upon their companion's shoulder he gave them a pleading yet stern look.

"(Name)... no more toy bombs and tell us before making any more surprises like this."

(Name) whined, throwing their hands up into the air whilst gesturing to Wild.

"What? He gets to have his fun bombs why can't I?"

"No. Just... no, no more bombs."

Anyways obviously the whole group is going to collectively decide that while this plushie of Reader's can be an incredible advantage in battle/within a dungeon I think they would try to get Reader to not be making things like that or being around something so dangerous in the first place (especially if we're looking at a yandere chain)

But I definitely think Four would be ambushing Reader with questions about the mechanics and just how they had made it work, he NEEDS ANSWERS!! Wars is also wondering about how such a thing was made, though don't be fooled. He won't be letting Reader near anything that they could make a bomb out of. But it is comforting to know that in a pinch Reader can be quite the ingenuitive inventor.

Wind is cooking up schemes out the wazzo okay, he's the one ya gotta look out for because he WILL be stealing them, and he WILL be using them for his nefarious pranks (whether those be against monsters or other members of the chain is up to fate).

Wild's expecting his plushie at the end of the week, no if's and's or but's. He wants one and it better be as fluffy as the one that blew up. (Wind may or may not be hinting for one himself, eventually he'll force himself to outright ask for one)

Sky, Twilight, Time, and even Hyrule are all in the category of 'I don't care how cute it was and how much you whine about it. Ya ain't getting another one!' They're putting their foot down, no more bomb plushies and especially no cuddling bombs at night!

(cuddle one of them instead)

#trulytiredhermit #linked universe #linked universe x reader #yandere lu x reader #delicatefestivalcreator #honestly just Reader with a bomb plushie is a thought in and of itself #And I finally got your ask done!#Had a real busy summer with working getting ready for college and helping my dad with his side cooking business #Hope you enjoyed this! Sorry it took so long!

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