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help-itrappedmyself · 2 months

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Dead on Main AU

Masterpost

Guys, I'm so sorry. But here's this!

~~~~

Danny blinks and he is somewhere else. He’s sitting at a dining room table, surrounded. There are so many people here. They’re all talking over each other, some yelling, some laughing. This scene comes as a great surprise to him, who -one blink ago- was trying and failing to do his homework at home in his room. Danny shoots up, his chair making a horrible noise as he pushes it away so fast it tumbles over. Everyone in the room turns to look over at him like he’s insane.

“Oh my god, who are you people?” Danny did not mean to say this out loud, but at the sound of his voice he startles. Danny takes a moment to assess, and then, “Oh my god who am I?” He is tall, and big, and this is certainly not his body, what is he wearing.

The boy sitting to the right of Danny, a little shorter than he is, with black hair and blue eyes (though now that he’s paying attention that does describe most people in the room), starts chuckling lightly. “Uh, Jason? Are you good?”

Danny turns to stare him right in the eyes. “What day is it?”

And he can tell the concern around the table is just ratcheting up every time he opens his stupid mouth.

“Did you hit your head on patrol?” The voice comes from the only blond and one of the only girls in the room, who's to the left of the person across from him. The person across from him is another boy with black hair and blue eyes who is studying Danny in a way that makes him uncomfortable, that under-a-microscope look that makes you feel like you’re failing at something.

“I have no idea if Jason hit his head.” Danny says. “I was just trying to remember if it was my birthday.”

And if he thought the room was busy when he first arrived here it is absolute pandemonium now. Everyone starts shouting and asking questions that he can’t even hear over the shouting. Someone with white hair in a suit just came through a door he didn’t even see earlier to stand by the only person not shouting, who -Danny would guess- is the only other adult in this room, witting at the head of the table. He also has black hair and blue eyes, and where almost everyone else’s reaction was panic, he froze instead. The person across from Danny also isn’t shouting, but the person next to Danny on his right has now fully stood up and looks like he might actually jump across the table to win the argument he ended up in.

“Are you Jason’s soulmate?” is the main gist of the shouting that Danny can interpret but he’s more concerned with actual Jason at the moment. If they switched bodies... Then Jason might be in trouble…

“Hey, I forget, how long is this body swap supposed to last again?” Danny asks.

“Until you and Jason have physical contact. You have to actually meet.” The boy sitting across from him explains. He seems like one of the only ones that heard Danny talk, everyone else was still shouting.

“Oh, that just seems terrible. What if we’re in different countries or something?” Danny complained. “Everyone in the world is just supposed to be able to drop everything and afford to fly across the world. The universe is really trying to screw people over now. Honestly, am I in a different country? Where even are we right now?”

“You’re in Gotham.” This voice was new, coming from the head of the table to Danny’s right.

“Oh no. Nope.” Danny started backing away from the table, almost tripping on his overturned chair. “Absolutely not, no, how do I get out of here?” He starts earnestly looking for a door to get out of this place, but there are three doors he can see and he has no idea where any of them go, and doesn’t this room have any windows? What kind of a room doesn’t have any windows? Do they like to eat in a basement?

“Jason- not Jason. Uh, you need to calm down, everything will be fine alright, We’ll get you and Jason introduced no problem.” Danny swivels to track the voice and it’s the one who was sitting next to him, he’s walking towards him with his hands up and out in front of him.

“I have to get home.” Danny breathes.

“We can get you there, promise. Now, I’m Dick, can you tell me your name?”

“Your name is Dick? Who named you Dick?” Danny is so confused he’s stopped panicking. “How old are you for you to go by the name Dick?”

“Okay, rude.” Dick sounds like a petulant child so Danny’s estimations for his age are continuously dropping. “I’m 24.”

Danny snorts. “Okay.” The blond girl starts laughing over at the table. “I’m uh, I’m Danny.”

“Nice to meet you. Sort of. I’m Tim.” The guy from across from him had made it over to stand next to Dick. “There’s a lot of us here today so the one laughing like a hyena is Steph. That one there is Duke.” African-American, still with black hair but he has brown eyes and waves once introduced. “Damian is the short one next to him, and Cass was sitting across from Dick earlier. Our dad, Jason’s dad-”

“Not my dad!” Steph interrupted. Tim waves her off.

“Everyone but Steph's dad, is over there, Bruce. Alfred, our butler is the one next to him.” Alfred gives a slight nod to his head. Bruce is just staring at him.

“So, names out of the way. You said you wanted to go home, where do you live?”

“Amity Park.”

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moonstruckme · 2 months

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could i request poly!marauders with reader who has trouble sleeping/insomnia pls? it’s so frustrating not being able to sleep and seeing everyone sleeping and then having a raging head and being exhausted throughout the days,,, just want someone to make the nights a little less stressful :((

Sorry for the long wait sweetness! Thanks for requesting

modern au

poly!marauderes x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

You want desperately to know what time it is. With the blackout curtains covering the windows and the digital clock stowed away in the drawer of the nightstand, it’s impossible to guess whether the sun is rising outside or if it’s only an hour past when you went to bed. You honestly have no idea. It feels like you’ve been lying here for an eternity, willing yourself to relax, but in your experience it’s equally likely that ten minutes have gone by.

It’s that much worse with your boyfriends snoozing all around you. You envy Sirius’ open-mouthed snore. You feel trapped. You want to be sleeping with them but you can’t, so you want them to be awake with you, but waking them would be cruel. When you’d first gone to bed James had held you up against him, but it hadn’t taken long after he’d fallen asleep for him to roll over, unconsciously abandoning you between his and Remus’ backsides. Remus is a light enough sleeper that you know he’ll wake if you try to get out of bed, so you’re stuck here, staring into the formless black of your room, not knowing how much longer you have to endure it.

Eventually you sit up on your elbow, reaching over Remus to check the time on your phone. Your hand is arrested just above the nightstand.

“What,” Remus’ voice is croaky. “What’re you doing?”

You don’t answer, knowing an honest one will only earn you a scolding. Remus rolls over and takes you hand with him. You can just barely see the outline of his head in the darkness, but you can feel his warm breath fanning across your face.

“You know it’s only going to make things worse,” he says quietly.

“It's worse not knowing,” you whisper.

Remus sighs, rubbing his thumb into the meat of your palm. Some of your apprehension eases just from having him awake with you. “I’m sorry, sweet girl.” His voice is barely a murmur, but you can feel James starting to stir at your back. “I still think we have to try what the doctor said for now, okay?”

He pushes his warm palm flat against yours, coaxing a small “okay” out of you.

“I can stay up with you.”

“No,” you say, despite the selfish voice in your head going Yes!. Remus needs more sleep than the rest of you to begin with, and you’re more accustomed to going without it than he is. “That’s okay, you should sleep.”

You’re bracing yourself for his denial when James rolls over behind you, one big arm wrapping around your front.

“Hey,” he slurs, “where’d you go?”

You smother a laugh and Remus makes a similarly amused sound, likely guessing what had really happened. He reaches the hand not holding yours over your head to pet James’ hair.

“I didn’t go anywhere,” you say softly.

“Stay put this time, hm?” James replies fondly, giving your middle a squeeze. “Y’supposed to be on cuddle duty.”

This time you can’t suppress it, and a little giggle escapes you. “Sorry,” you say.

Remus hums in gentled remonstrance, you’re not sure at whom.

“You’re all being terribly loud,” Sirius groans, and then there’s a shape leering over James’ head, doubtlessly glowering down at the three of you. “Why are we awake?”

“Someone couldn’t sleep,” Remus murmurs.

Sirius makes a whiny pitying sound, reaching over James to paw blindly at you. You inhale when his perpetually freezing fingers fumble at your collarbone. James saves you, clasping Sirius’ hand in his own.

“What else is new,” you try to joke. It comes out sounding more glum than you’d like. “Sorry I woke you guys.”

“No, don’t be, angel.” James’ hand finds its way underneath your sleep shirt, thumb stroking the skin just above your navel. “We’d rather be awake with you anyway.”

Sirius makes a sound like he could disagree, but his slender fingers burrow into your hair, scratching lightly at your scalp the way he knows you like. You bear the cold for his sake.

“There’s no point in us all being awake,” you say, though you’re nearly purring from all the loving. “S’not your problem.”

Sirius tsks. “We’ve been over this, doll. Your problems are ours, too.”

You hum like Yeah, I know. Sirius takes in a breath like he might say more, but Remus comes to your rescue.

“Do you want one of us to rub your back, dove?”

That sounds amazing, actually. But you’re not sure if it’ll help, and you don’t want to put your boyfriends to work if there’s no promise it’ll do anything. “That’s okay,” you say.

“No, come on.” James is already turning you in his arms. He cozies up to your front, big palm splayed out over your back. “We’re supposed to get you relaxed, right?”

You nod, and his chest feels warm against your cheek. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep, though.”

“That’s okay,” he replies readily. “Let’s just give it a try, yeah?”

You hum, acquiescence inlaid with guilt. From behind James, you hear Sirius chide you quietly (“Stop that”) and you know he’s heard it. James likely does too, but he ignores it, big palm beginning to move in broad, slow circles on your back. You try to help as best you can, relaxing into his hold and shutting your eyes. Even so, you grow tenser with frustration the longer it doesn’t work.

“Breathe, sweetheart,” Remus murmurs behind you. His words brush over your nape like a caress. “Relax. Listen to his heartbeat.”

You nestle your face closer to James’ chest, and he increases the pressure on your back as if to keep you there. You can hear the steady bump-bump of his heart as well as feel it against your cheek, and something about it has a tranquilizing effect on your own. It creates a beat to match the rhythm of his hand gliding along your back, steady and unwavering. You can hear your own breathing matching up to his, Remus’ too. Distantly, you become aware that Sirius is snoring again, but the thought dissipates half-formed. Your limbs feel warm and soft as wax.

You don’t notice James moving until his lips come down on the top of your head, his palm still wearing its same track into your back. “Love you,” he says.

You think you echo the sentiment, but you’re too far gone to know for sure.

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jellieland · 5 months

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"You know," says Jimmy smugly, "I think second is the best spot to die in, actually."

"Really," says Mumbo, exasperated.

"Yes, I don't know what you're so happy about," says Lizzie. "You barely lasted ten minutes more than me."

"Doesn't matter. Not out first, baby!" He crows, triumphant, to the neverending void.

"And you killed me last session!"

"...Yes, I, uh, I'm sorry about that one. Sort of. Mostly," he says, momentarily cowed.

"I can't believe you people," says Lizzie. "They didn't have a funeral for me. I died first, and you got one, and they didn't even have a funeral for me!" She sounds indignant, but a look of genuine hurt crosses her face for a moment.

"I'm going to be honest, Lizzie," says Mumbo awkwardly. "I think they had bigger things to worry about. I- I think Joel was quite sad about it, though. If that helps?"

"I suppose it's better than nothing." She crosses her arms.

"But- wait, hang on. Jimmy?" says Mumbo abruptly. "Did you say you wanted to go out second?"

"No!" Jimmy protests. "I just think if you have to go out, then second is sort of ideal, really, if you think about it!"

"No!" says Mumbo, indignant. "No, surely third is better, actually! And to extend that logic, fourth would be better as well, and fifth, and- well, you get the idea. Anyway, my point is that I did better than both of you!"

"Hey, don't bring me into this!" says Lizzie.

"Anyway, you're wrong," says Jimmy, back to being smug again.

There is a short silence.

"You, uh. You gonna elaborate on that one, buddy?" asks Mumbo.

"Well," says Jimmy. "Obviously going out first is terrible. Would not recommend. I don't know why anyone would do it, honestly, I know I would never-"

"You're going on my list," says Lizzie, cheerfully.

"Wait wait wait, no, I didn't mean it, I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I really am!"

"Hmm." Lizzie narrows her eyes. "Acceptable. For now."

A few moments pass.

"You may continue," she says.

"Right," says Jimmy. "What was I saying?"

"You were being wrong about how the ranking in this game works," offers Mumbo.

"No I wasn't!" says Jimmy. "Just, let me explain. Now, you obviously don't want to go out first, sorry Lizzie, but it's true."

"I will concede that point," says Lizzie. "It wasn't great."

"But—have you seen how they get?"

"How they... get?" Mumbo frowns. "What do you mean?"

"The people who don't die."

"I- now, I don't know if you remember this," says Mumbo, "But third is a new record for me, so I really don't know how you expect me to know that."

"Anyway," interjects Lizzie, "Mumbo and I have only done this once before. I mean, I guess people started losing it a bit once you two died, but it wasn't that much different to how it already had been. Although I wasn't around for that long at that point."

"Yes, but, it-" Jimmy frowns. "I haven't seen much of it either. But there's something- I don't know how to explain what I mean. Maybe you haven't noticed, but there's stuff with Grian, Scott, Pearl."

He stops, sighs. Looks at the ground.

"Martyn's going to be alone, now," he says.

"Well," says Lizzie, a little acerbic. "You don't have to have people die for that to happen, you know."

Jimmy gives her a look that is a combination of sheepishness and genuine regret. "Ah. Yeah. I guess not."

"So you're right," says Lizzie. "I don't know what you mean."

"...I did feel bad," says Jimmy, quietly.

"You... did?" asks Lizzie. "What about?"

Jimmy looks at her, then off to the side. "...When I killed you."

"Oh."

"I really didn't mean to," he says. "I felt bad. It wasn't satisfying. It was just... a person I cared about. Dead. Because of me. Because I acted without thinking, because I wasn't paying attention."

"...Oh." says Lizzie, softly.

"And that was when I knew you would come back," says Jimmy.

Lizzie and Mumbo exchange glances, unsure.

"I'm good with second," says Jimmy. "I think it's the closest you can get to winning, actually."

They stand there, silent, for some time.

"Well," says Mumbo eventually. "I still feel like third is a bit better, though."

"Mumbo!" cries Jimmy.

"Mumbo, come on, we were just having a moment!" says Lizzie.

"Yes well, look, I really need this, guys," says Mumbo, shifting his weight from side to side. "I don't know if you know this, but I've had a really bad day. It was just terrible!"

"I think we've all had pretty bad days, Mumbo!" says Lizzie, raising an eyebrow. "I don't know if you've noticed, but we all died!"

"Yes, I- I had picked up on that, actually."

"I don't know," says Jimmy. "My day was great!"

They keep talking, and bickering, and the emptiness stretches off into the distance.

It's nice, not to have to be there alone.

#secret life spoilers #secret life smp #jimmy solidarity #i think it's really interesting how both lizzie and mumbo have only been in one other season and died quite early on #I've just been thinking about those three #together after the end.#my writing

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saetoru · 8 months

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✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ EVERWINTER WITHOUT MERCY — TARTAGLIA.

contents. fluff + established relationships, fishing with ajax’s siblings bc they’re everything <3, ajax being a terrible flirt lolsjdjd, he’s implied to be taller than reader, gn! reader, kisses in the snezhnayan cold <3

he’s done it again, you think exasperatedly—teucer’s neck is bare as he walks through the harsh snow, the fabric of his scarf hanging loosely from his shoulders.

“hey, make sure you keep this around your neck,” you scold, wrapping the scarf tightly around teucer’s neck, “you’ll catch a cold.”

he groans a little—but he’s a good kid, listens to you when you tell him enough times, leaning into your hand as you ruffle his hair. you smile fondly as you look down—and then a weight presses against you from behind.

“yeah, teucer,” ajax hums, “you don’t want to catch a cold, do you?”

“i won’t,” the younger boy insists, “colds are for the weak.”

ajax laughs. you can feel the rumble from his chest against your back as he murmurs, “it’s colder than usual teucer. make sure you keep it on.”

“that goes for you too, y’know,” you huff, spinning around to stare unimpressed at him as his own scarf is loose around his neck—ajax has the decency to at least attempt to look guilty.

“oh, i guess you’re right,” he nods, “can’t set a bad example for the kids.”

“and you can’t get sick,” you scoff, “i’m not in the mood to get sick from you.”

“i never get sick,” he says confidently with a wave of his hand, “but—” he starts with a drawl. his words as sickeningly sweet, enough to make your head spin a little from how decadent it is, “it does always stay in place when you do it.”

of course. he’s loosened it on purpose, just so you’ll wrap it for him. he’s exhausting, just a bit—as sly as he is painfully obvious, and it never ceases to make your eyes roll in that way he loves. in that way that makes him chuckle as he leans down a little closer, brows raised.

so you sigh—but there’s the beginning of a smile on your face, the start of a giggle in your voice as you say, “honestly, ajax. you’re shameless.”

“am i?” he grins, hands finding your hips as you reach over and secure the scarf around his neck.

it’s gentle, the way you touch him. the way you carefully work the fabric around his neck. the way you make sure it’s just tight enough to stay in place so he doesn’t catch a cold, but not so tight that it’s uncomfortable.

not many people touch ajax gently—he doesn’t want them to, even. he needs the rush of people giving him their worst, just so he knows he can give it back tenfold. but you…well, he likes that soft way you trace his cheek with your thumb. that careful way you brush a few strands of hair from his face and admire his eyes for a moment.

they’re cold most of the time, his eyes—dead without a shine. not around you, though. in fact, you think the stars create themselves right there in his pupils and reflect across the sky. it makes being away from him a little less unbearable, you suppose: when it feels like the stars are his and he brings them to you.

it makes it feel like he’s not so far away.

“there,” you mumble quietly, cupping his cheeks once you’re done. he looks adorable, you think, wrapped tightly in a long coat and a thick, red scarf. he looks comfortable enough that you can’t help but squeeze his cheeks together a bit as you giggle. “all warm,” you smile.

“but my lips, i’m afraid,” he sighs dramatically, “are achingly cold in this harsh, snezhnayan weather. if only there was some way to warm them up.”

he eyes your lips hungrily—a little thirsty in a way that makes you wonder just how insatiable ajax really is. something about him always seems thirsty for more, always ready to devour in a way that makes you wonder if there’s a side to him you haven’t quite yet seen. a more carnal one, perhaps. or maybe, one that’s helplessly in love, that he never quite gets enough.

you like to think it’s the latter.

“teucer is right there, ajax,” you roll your eyes, “have some decorum.”

“so now it’s a crime to show affection to those you love?” he gasps, “you want teucer to grow up unable to show his true feelings?”

“no,” you deadpan, “i want teucer to grow up less of a handful than you.”

“i’ll be less of a handful if you warm my lips,” he chuckles, boyish and young and all the things he should be. all the things the world should let him be. “they’re bitterly numb, right now.”

and…well, you can’t deny him—you never could. so you shake your head and trace the swell of his cheek one more time with your thumb, rubbing warmth back into his skin even as the harsh blows of frigid air slice against him.

it’s cold in snezhnaya. it always is. it’s warm in your hold. it never won’t be.

“you’re insufferable,” you huff through a laugh.

and then you kiss him, delicately so. your lips press against his perfectly enough that it never felt like he was away. it feels like you kissed him yesterday and the day before that. it’s so familiar, you don’t need to ingrain the feeling into your memory for when he inevitably leaves again. you’d never forget the way ajax feels—not how he tastes or sounds when you meet him, skin to skin.

he hums against you, traces circles into your hips with his thumbs as he pulls you closer by the waist.

it’s cold in snezhnaya. it always is. it’s bearable in ajax’s warmth. it never won’t be.

“much better,” he nods as he pulls away, “i feel warm already. but you should stay close by…you know, just in case i get cold again.

“well, lucky for you—”

“are we going to fish now?” teucer calls, tonia and anthon waiting patiently in the distance. ajax sighs—you giggle, leaning closer and pressing one last peck to his lips.

“well, let’s not keep them waiting,” you grin, “i’ll keep you warm later.”

he grins widely at that, raising a brow. “is that so? well then, i’ll hold you to that.”

he has stolen my heart and i am deeply unwell. painfully. sickeningly. psychotically. unwell.

#teepods.writings #drabbles.#tartaglia x reader #tartaglia x you #tartaglia fluff #childe x reader #childe x you #childe fluff #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact fluff

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evilminji · 11 days

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So I was rewatching suicide squad hell to pay and this idea smacked me in the face so hard I had to share it: when Danny finds out Jazz wants to go to GothamU he does a bunch of research and finds that the joker has the highest death tolls and property damage but also when he’s not in Arkham (even when he’s not actively committing a crime) the crime rate skyrockets, so he needs to at the very least remove the joker from the equation. But he can’t personally do it because of school/king stuff/reasons so he sends out a message to any & all takers “make the joker disappear” the prize… One Get Out of Hell Free Card: It Won’t Get You Into Heaven, But At Least You Won’t Be In Hell…. Needless to say a greater part of the underworld descends upon Gotham.

Oh my god? It's probably delivered be a dead info broker who was THE SHIT until he went out in a blaze of glory? Dude rocks up into [REDACTED] looking not a day over 20, in the suit he was killed in, bullet holes and all, Glowing... like?

Boys, do I have a DEAL for you! Straight from the king of Limbo!

Like? Sold! Limited power boost in life? AND I get to avoid hell? Plus?? A valid reason to do the world a FAVOR and put down that MONSTER of a clown? They would have done far worse for less. But this? This is just Christmas.

You'd probably get tons of "hey, what if me an my boo do it TOGETHER?" Too which Danny is like "gonna say it counts, happy hunting!" And just? You thought Ivy wanted him dead BEFORE?

The underworld is ON FIRE. The clown is GOING to die.

Morningstar is laughing himself sick from the other side of this booth at the night club. Is a TERRIBLE influence. But honestly? Danny DID need the advice. And hey, if things continue to be a mess when it's time for Jazz's classes to start? She can do remote learning! From NOT gotham! Literally ANY CITY but Gotham!

Everybody wins!

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dc x dp prompt #minji's writing

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inbarfink · 8 months

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Okay, so here’s the thing….

We are still at a very early point in the narrative of ‘Fionna and Cake’ and therefore at a very early point in Simon’s character arc. It’s pretty clear that “I need to become Ice King again” is not the end point by any meaning of the word. But I am wondering where we’re going to go with this, cause… The series has yet to really tackle how miserable Ice King himself was a lot of the time. And how often he hurt people.

Like, yes, I was an advent advocates for 'trying to bring back Simon Petrikov was a really really Bad Idea on Betty's part, it was more healthy to focus on making sure Ice King was as happy and healthy and harmless as he could be', but I am also fully aware that he started the show being both extremely lonely and extremely sad and also a serial kidnapper who was very much a danger to those around him. And as much progress as he made during the show, getting Ice King to that point was a very serious struggle with a lot of backslidings and problems.

'Friends Forever' is, for example, an episode that stuck with me for a long time as a really heart-wrenching demonstration how even in that late stage, when he has buddies and people trying to seriously take care of him - Ice King was still very capable of seriously sabotaging his own relationships and hurting others and himself.

And it does make sense narratively that, like, characters like Astrid and Fionna and Cake, all of whom lack the full context of what Ice King's life was like (Fionna and Cake really just saw Simon at his worst and only got snippets of clips of Ice King and since Astrid was born after Humans came to Ooo that means she was also born after the events of ‘Come Along With Me’) all see Simon as a downgrade. Because they really don’t understand how bad Ice King was beforehand.

And thus is does make sense that with Simon's current mental state, and how he is surrounded lately with these kinda people who never really knew Ice King and don’t really understand how terrible and miserable he could be, and now hearing that his ‘sanity’ just took away magic and whimsy from some else’s whole universe, and how it feels like the actual gods of the multiverse are telling him that he should be Ice King, that he's supposed to be Ice King....

It makes sense that he might start kinda... romanticizing that time in his life again.

You know, the big thing about the outlook that Betty should’ve accepted Ice King as who he is rather than basically destroy herself to bring Simon back wasn't about whatever Ice King or Simon Petrikov were better or 'cooler' than the other. It was about, like, embracing change. Not obsessing about a past where things were ‘Better’ but seeing what is the best you can do with things as they are. Moving forwards.

And we all know how Simon feels about moving forwards right now…

And obviously that's a pretty bad mindset, even if it's understandable how he got there...

And honestly, if we do explicitly acknowledge that, hey! Ice King’s life was often just as much of a depressive spiral as Simon's is right now! There might be an element of… resignation in Simon’s decision.

Because Simon's downward spiral since getting cured is not a demonstration that he was better off under the Ice Crown's curse.... But, to him, more a demonstration that he doesn't need the Crown to screw up his own life anymore.

‘Cause as both as Ice King and as good ol’ ‘sane’ Simon Petrikov he is just as capable of being lonely and depressed.

And just as capable of losing his own identity.

And just as capable of pushing his loved ones away and ruining his own life.

And just as capable of becoming a weirdo obsessive.

And just as capable of making little girls cry.

He even started kidnapping people again! That’s the Ice King Classic!

So on some level, maybe Simon is resigned to the fact he’s always going to be SOME sort of screwed up lonely sadman who hurts others. And if that is his fate, he might as well be the screwed up lonely sadman who is mostly oblivious to how sad he really is and can shoot ice from his fingertips. And his arc is going to be about realizing that, whether he is Ice King or Simon Petrikov, healing and change ARE always possible for him.

But we’re gonna have to see where it goes…

#adventure time #atimers #fionna and cake #adventure time fionna and cake #adventure time spoilers #fionna and cake spoilers #fionna and cake series #fionna and cake show #at spoilers #fac spoilers #simon petrikov #simon adventure time #adventure time simon #ice king #the ice king #adventure time ice king #ice king adventure time #fionna and cake simon #prismo the wishmaster

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waskurttrans · 2 years

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Kurt Cobain Will Have His Revenge on the Straights

Had a video call with my brother Chuck the other day. Things got heavy:

KATE: Was Kurt Cobain a trans woman?

CHUCK: What?

Kurt Cobain. Rock musician. He was in a band called Nirvana.

I’m familiar with him, yes.

Was he a trans woman?

Um. No?

OK. Why not?

I mean, he wasn’t. It’s like asking why he wasn’t an astronaut.

He wasn’t an astronaut because he never went to space. Why wasn’t he a trans woman?

Because he didn’t transition. I mean, he didn’t ever say he was a woman, didn’t ever say he was trans. So no. Kurt Cobain wasn’t a trans woman.

So someone is trans if they say they’re trans. Self-determination.

That’s what you’ve told me. Is that wrong?

No, that’s right. We know ourselves better than anybody else can know us. If we say we’re trans, nobody can say we aren’t.

And Kurt Cobain never said he was trans.

So was I trans in 1994?

I don’t know, were you?

Yes, but if you’d asked me in 1994, I would have told you “no”.

So if I tell you I’m trans, I’m trans…

Right.

But if I tell you I’m cis, I might still be trans?

If you tell me you’re cis, I believe you.

That’s not the same thing as “I’m cis”.

That’s a really good point. This is sort of what some queer people are getting at when they say “gender is a construct”.

Come again?

Well, you’re cisgender, right?

As far as I know, yes.

Aha.

Hmmm?

You hedged. “As far as I know” isn’t the same thing as “yes”. “As far as I know” opens up the possibility that you could be trans and not know it.

It doesn’t seem terribly likely.

That’s an interesting statement. Early on in transition one of the biggest problems I had was dealing with the sheer unlikelihood of my being trans. I mean, I knew trans people existed. I knew somebody had to be trans. I just couldn’t wrap my head around the idea that it would be me.

Do you think this is why you’re on this whole “Kurt Cobain was a trans woman” kick?

Hey now, I’m just asking questions. You know. Like J.K. Rowling is “just asking questions”.

Kate, you are literally wearing a T-shirt that says “KURT COBAIN WAS A TRANS WOMAN” on it right now.

Am I? Oh, shit. I thought I was wearing my “Skip school, take hormones, kill God” T-shirt. To your question, though - yeah, I do think that’s part of it. Honestly, the hardest thing about growing up trans was believing that nobody in the world had ever experienced what I was experiencing. I didn’t have any role models. I didn’t wonder if I was the only one. I was convinced of it.

So being able to say that this incredibly gifted songwriter, the voice of a generation, was a trans woman like you…

I need someone like that. I need to not be the first of my kind.

Of course you’re not the first trans woman.

No, but before a couple of years ago almost every trans woman would tell you they always knew, unquestionably and innately, that they were women.

So it’s not just about him being trans, but specifically his being a trans woman who didn’t know he was a trans woman.

An egg. Right.

Why Kurt Cobain, anyway? What’s so special about him that you’re trying to induct him into the Egg Hall of Fame?

He knew things. Things cis guys don’t know. Things I didn’t know until after I started transition. He understood women, what we’re like, what we experience. “Pennyroyal Tea”. “Rape Me”. I just have a hard time thinking of a cis man who could write songs like that.

It wouldn’t be the only way in which he was exceptional.

True. Ahhh. I don’t know. I mean, I know, I can give you all the reasons, but there’s something in his eyes.

Something in his eyes.

All the pictures of him. No matter what he’s doing. If he’s grinning, or sad, whatever he’s doing, you can see something trapped there. Trapped and in pain, wanting to get out but not quite knowing how.

Huh. You, uh, know that what you’re doing is pretty much the textbook definition of projection, right?

Maybe. Chuck, do you think I’m happier?

Since you transitioned?

Yeah.

Of course. Absolutely. Night and day.

Everyone says that, and honestly, I see it. Even in pictures, you know? I see it. You’ve seen some of my transition timelines, right?

You do look really different.

It’s not just me. Every single person who transitions looks like that. We look so much happier, so much more alive, so much more us. I don’t understand how anybody can hate us.

I don’t get it either, Kate.

And when I look at any timelines, I look at the before photos… and I see something in their eyes. Transmasc, transfem, doesn’t matter. There’s something trapped wanting to get out. Every picture I’ve ever seen of Kurt Cobain looks like the “before” picture on a transition timeline. It’s just that with him, there aren’t any after pictures.

And it’s not just the eyes, either. The way he dressed, the whole “grunge look”. It’s just literally egg fashion. We dress with total disregard for our appearance or how we look because no matter what we do it’s wrong.

“Egg fashion”, egg this, egg that… isn’t it a little bit anachronistic, judging him by 2022 standards, 2022 values?

Is it? Chuck, I was alive in 1994. I was an 18 year old egg. I know what that feels like. I know what that looks like. I lived that. Why didn’t I come out as trans in 1994? Because I didn’t have the opportunity. Because self-determination needs to be informed, and none of us were. None of us. Look. You know what he said to Melody Maker in 1991? “I knew I was different. I thought that I might be gay or something because I couldn't identify with any of the guys at all.” That’s what he said.

Holy shit. Really?

Really. September 14, 1991.

Hold on, let me look that up. Oh, yeah, I see it. Look, if you look at the full quote he’s just saying he’s not a jock. Like he didn’t fit in with the jocks.

Well, what about the dresses?

What dresses?

Kurt Cobain wore a lot of dresses. Like, a lot, both onstage and off. On MTV in 1991, he said “It’s ‘Headbanger’s Ball’ so I thought I’d wear a gown.” He said in a 1993 interview, “I personally like to wear dresses. I wear them around the house sometimes.” This is not some shameful secret he kept hidden from the world. He was open about this. He was proud about this.

Yeah, but… it’s just clothes.

Except it’s not just clothes. Listen to his songs. Listen to his lyrics. “Should have been a son”. “I’m a lady, can you save me?” “Everyone is gay.” The original lyrics to “All Apologies” from his journals – “Boys write songs for girls. Let me grow some breasts.”

I mean they’re song lyrics. There are all kinds of ways to interpret song lyrics.

Sure. All kinds of ways. You ever read Michael Azerrad’s biography of Cobain, Come As You Are?

Nope.

Azerrad spent weeks talking to Cobain. He was Cobain’s biographer, but also his friend. And he has his own interpretation of the lyrics. For instance, Azerrad talks about all the lyrics about guns, and to me, now, I look at that, and I think of how he died, but Azerrad, when Kurt was alive, he looked at it another way. He thought it’s about dicks. “To paraphrase Dr. Freud,” he says, “sometimes a gun is just a gun. But not this time.” He talks about “Come As You Are”, where Kurt keeps singing “I swear I don’t have a gun.” That’s not my interpretation. That’s never been my interpretation. That’s what this cis man says. More than one cis man. Kurt says Dave Grohl’s dad, he said the same thing. Yeah. There are all kinds of ways to interpret lyrics.

“By this time,” Azerrad wrote, “one begins to wonder how Kurt rationalizes being a man at all. His first response is revealing. ‘I don’t know,’ he says. ‘Castration.’” I don’t wonder how Kurt rationalizes being a man. I rationalized “being a man” in all kinds of ways. What strikes me is that he needed to rationalize being a man. Had to come up with some kind of excuse. It just strikes me kind of funny.

Kurt’s songs have meanings. The lyrics to “In Bloom”, Kurt was pretty explicit about that. The lyrics he wrote have meanings. “Heart-Shaped Box”. You know what that refers to? When Courtney Love was flirting with Kurt, Michael Azerrad says in Come As You Are, “She gave Dave (Grohl) a package to give to Kurt – little sea shells and miniature teacups and a tiny doll, all packed into a small heart-shaped box.” A tiny doll locked away inside a box shaped like a heart. That was what I felt like before I came out. A tiny phantom doll. Kurt and Courtney first kissed after a show at the Cabaret Metro in Chicago. Rumor was that they fucked against the bar, but they denied it. What actually happened, Azerrad says, is that “Courtney had a bag of lingerie with her for some reason and Kurt ended up modeling the contents.” And then they went to Kurt’s hotel room and they fucked.

You’re making it sound…

Maybe it was. Because you look at that and you think that if it was like that, it was perverted and wrong, because that’s what you were told, that it’s a sick fetish thing, and I look at it and it isn’t. To me, that’s normal. That Kurt Cobain was sexually aroused while wearing Courtney Love’s lingerie, that’s normal.

Kate, he was a punk! He hated jocks, and wearing a dress pissed off jocks, so he wore dresses. He talked about wanting to wear a dress and piss on a redneck A&R man’s desk! You think that was some kind of sex thing?

Sexuality is part of being a woman. Part. Rage – and Kurt Cobain had a lot of rage inside him – that’s another part. Am I interpreting, am I looking at things from my perspective as a trans woman? Yes, certainly, just like you’re interpreting, looking at it from your perspective as a cis man. When cis people interpret things, their conclusion is never “they were trans”. Never.

Ed Wood wasn’t a trans woman. He was just a transvestite. He was a man.

Pete Burns from Dead or Alive wasn’t a trans woman. Sure, he got all sorts of feminizing surgeries, but he never said he was a woman. Man.

Prince Nelson adopted a female persona, feminized his voice, and recorded a song about wanting to be a woman's girlfriend, but he was also a Christian and believed that being queer was wicked and sinful, and that's the identity of his we need to respect. Man.

Richard Wright, who wrote the Phish song “Halley’s Comet”, spent most of the 1980s telling everyone he knew he was a transsexual lesbian named Nancy, but after being consistently treated like shit changed his mind about that, so none of that counts for anything. Man.

Dave Carter was on HRT when he died, but he was just questioning. He didn’t tell anybody for sure that he was a woman. Man.

Quentin Crisp said just before he died that if he was younger, he absolutely would have transitioned, but wanting to transition isn’t the same as actually transitioning. Man.

All men. Always, always men, whatever they do, whatever they say. I know how that works. I was told all these same things about myself for decades, all these same reasons, and now, I don’t know, I guess people will make a personal exception for me, but for everybody else, the same old assumptions, the same old arguments, they still apply. They’re still legitimate.

I thought we were talking about Kurt Cobain.

And the only way to do that is to talk about him in isolation. There’s no larger context to consider, no bigger picture. I can’t really know. I can’t really judge.

I mean, everybody else does. I guess I can’t tell you not to. But all of this circumstantial evidence, all of the dresses and the lyrics that you I guess know the real meaning of – none of that makes him a girl.

Sure. And nothing can make him a girl. Because he’s dead. Because he killed himself.

Oh, here we go. After thirty years and countless speculation, you have at last uncovered the real reason Kurt Cobain killed himself – gender dysphoria. Do you have a book deal yet?

Working on it. And yes, people say a lot of stupid things about Cobain’s death, like it’s this big shock that this guy who hated himself and wanted to die killed himself.

Right. He was pretty well-known for being a heroin addict, which isn’t exactly something that improves one’s quality of life.

Sure, but why did he start heroin?

I don’t know. Why does anybody start heroin?

To help him cope with his eating disorder.

Wait, what? Eating disorder?

You don’t know about that? He had stomach problems, for a long, long time. He could only eat certain kinds of food, certain kinds of food that wouldn’t make his stomach hurt. Doctors looked but they could never find any organic cause for it. Nobody took it seriously. So he self-medicated with heroin. “It was my choice,” he told Azerrad. “I don’t regret it at all because it was such a relief from not having stomach pain every day.” I know, though. Lots of cis guys have eating disorders. Doesn’t mean anything.

Kate there’s a lot of interpreting going on here.

Yeah, I guess there is. Is that necessarily a bad thing, though? Is that necessarily wrong? Like. You’ve seen The Matrix, right?

Only the first one.

Yeah, that’s fine. So you know how important The Matrix is to a lot of trans women, right?

Yes, but I’m not really sure why. Just seems like a retelling of Plato’s “Allegory of the Cave” with extra fight scenes.

It’s pretty trans, though, right?

Clearly. It was directed by two trans women.

And trans women who watch it – eggs or otherwise – find their own lives and experiences reflected in it in ways that cis people, like you, don’t.

I guess, but the fact that it was actually made by two trans women carries a little more weight with me.

OK, but what if the Wachowskis had died in 2000? In, like… a car crash or something? Does that mean The Matrix isn’t a trans film?

Well, no, because it’s still a film made by two trans women.

A film made by two trans women that speaks to the trans experience, and that is recognized by living trans women as speaking specifically to the trans experience. The only difference is that, in this scenario, nobody knows the Wachowski Sisters are trans women. And we can’t prove it. We can’t possibly prove it, and nobody is going to just believe us when we say it’s a trans movie, that the Wachowskis were trans women, because they didn’t say it, they didn’t say the special magic words. Self-determination. You know what self-determination meant to Kurt Cobain? I remember seeing Courtney Love on television reading his note, I remember her interrupting to say that he was an asshole, that what he was saying was bullshit. She didn’t respect his self-determination.

Um…

“Pennyroyal Tea”. Cobain told Azerrad “It's a cleansing theme where I’m trying to get all my bad evil spirits out of me and drinking Pennyroyal tea would cleanse that away.” Pennyroyal is an abortifacient – but, Azerrad notes, only in lethal doses.

Hell, not just that song. The whole album. In Utero. The collage on the back cover, the one Cobain described to Azerrad as “Sex and woman and In Utero and vaginas and birth and death". The occult symbols surrounding it, taken from Barbara G. Walker’s The Woman's Dictionary of Symbols and Sacred Objects1. There was something inside Kurt Cobain, something inside him waiting to be born, but he was told, over and over, that it was a monster, so he killed it, the only way he could. By killing himself.

That could have been me. That could so easily have been me. I was told all the same things he was. We all were. When I was 27? When I was 27, I was addicted to benzos, benzos they prescribed me because I was trying to bury, trying to kill this thing, this thing I had inside of me. I was a zombie. Walking dead. When I quit, I quit cold turkey. Nobody told me about the withdrawal syndrome. Nobody told me it could have killed me. And if it had, everybody would remember me, everybody would think of me, as a cis man. Forever. They would perpetuate the Lie. That’s why I transitioned, why I chose to go through all the shit I went through. The writer and musician Margaret Killjoy, in 2017 she talked about what she went through the day before she came out:

“All I could think was: ‘Oh god, I don’t want to die a boy.’”2

I felt the same way, came out for the same reason. I figured no matter what I did, I was dead. I didn’t do it live, but to at least have an honest death. I genuinely believed transition would kill me.

It didn’t, though! You’re alive and you’re beautiful and I’m so, so glad for that. It didn’t kill you.

It could have. Still could. Transition has helped, has made it easier for me, but it’s not that way with everyone. People have been kind to me, in ways that they aren’t kind to other trans women. Others of us… aren’t so lucky.

Who are we respecting, exactly, by remaining silent about our shared experiences, our shared perspectives, things we see that you fucking don’t, that you can’t see? Of course I can’t prove it. I can’t prove that I’m trans. You can’t prove that you’re cis. Cis people, though, cis people never have to prove anything. Their prejudices are the null hypothesis3. If I was to go out there and say that Kurt Cobain was a cisgender man, would anybody say I was wrong? Would anybody object or complain? Even though my saying that is an anachronism, is meaningless. The word, the concept, it literally didn’t exist when Cobain died. Have you ever heard the word “agnotology”?

No?

It means making a false claim to ignorance. Claiming that we don’t know something that we do. That we can’t know something that we can. We know things now, Chuck. We know what the symptoms of gender dysphoria are. We know what it does to people. How eggs think. How eggs act. How eggs die. But we pretend we don’t. We still pretend. We pretend suicide is an individual act, even when we know it’s not, that the reasons for it are wholly personal. We pretend that when someone dies by suicide, their reasons for doing so die with them. And they don’t, Chuck. We’re still dying, still dying for the same reasons Kurt Cobain did. It’s not just that we aren’t allowed to recognize ourselves. We aren’t allowed to recognize each other. Individual choice or social contagion. Those are the options we’re given. And neither of them are right. Neither of them are who we are.

Kurt Cobain wrote, thought, talked, died like eggs do. I don’t care if he never said the magic fucking words. We know our own. We recognize each other. And if someone is alive? If someone is alive I will go my whole life without ever breathing a word. Because as long as we’re alive, we do choose, and that means we can choose ignorance. What I think, what I want, for someone else, for us, it doesn’t matter. I do that, I follow that code, for the benefit of one person – the egg themselves. Once they die, all bets are off. Omerta no longer applies. Kayfabe no longer applies.

To be queer is to be erased, to experience erasure. I still hear straight men arguing, as if they have any right to argue, as if they know, that Emily Dickinson was not a lesbian. Emily Dickinson! I’m supposed to listen to people who say this shit? I’m supposed to take them seriously when they say well, actually, calling Dickinson a “lesbian” is historically anachronistic, we can’t apply the standards of the present to the past, and Jesus fuck have you read her letters? She liked girls. She really liked girls. Kurt Cobain was a trans woman. Kurt Cobain was every bit as much a trans woman as Emily Dickinson was a lesbian. Refusing to say it isn’t “respect”. It’s perpetuating the crime perpetrated against Cobain, against every other trans woman who ever killed herself because of the lies we were told about ourselves. No more. Kurt Cobain was a trans woman. I can’t, as an individual, say that. I don’t have the right. No trans woman can say that, individually. But collectively? All of us together? The things we see in each other, we see those things in him too. Not all of them, and not all of us. Absolutely not all of us. But enough of us. Enough that we have the right. We have the right, and I will fucking say it, and if you don’t like that, you can go fuck yourself.

Kate, are you ok?

I’m fine.

Do you want a hug?

Fuck you, Chuck.

OK, well. I’m, uh. Gonna go to the other room. You should, uh. Drink some water. Stay hydrated. Love you, Kate.

Love you too, Chuck. Sorry.

Shhh. It’s OK, Kate. It’s OK.

1 Diane Purkiss criticizes the occult nature of Walker’s encyclopedia in "Women's Rewriting of Myth", in Carolyne Larrington (ed), The Feminist Companion to Mythology, London, 1992, p. 444: “In Donna Haraway's influential terms, these women may wish to be goddesses, but they are cyborgs all the same”. The work she’s referencing is Haraway’s “A Cyborg Manifesto”. Haraway was, it happens, an academic advisor to the trans woman Sandy Stone, and her “Cyborg Manifesto” was a pivotal influence on Stone’s “The Empire Strikes Back: A Post-Transsexual Manifesto”, one of the foundational works of transgender theory.

2 Margaret Killjoy, https://birdsbeforethestorm.net/2017/06/im-not-even-going-to-try-to-pass/

3 Natalie Reed, https://freethoughtblogs.com/nataliereed/2012/04/17/the-null-hypothecis/

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todayisafridaynight · 10 months

Text

oh my god i forgot to share my delulu-ass dream where i made a masadai doujin

#snap chats #NO LISTEN CAUSE LMAO #im 90% sure i was also dreaming of scenes from shay's disneyland fic. cause i still love that fic.#honestly i think it was just an anthology of short stories WHICH. ive always wanted to make a remastered anthology doujin #for all my mineda| and arakavva fam stuff yk. like go back and redo all of them so the art's Up To Date. and in color LMAO #god imagine if i did... ive always wanted to make a doujin but i also know im terrible at long projects and writing stories #(i still have to finish that comic from last night for starters LMAOOO)#anyways. hey everyone. life update time. its fucking POURING #i went out grocer shopping with my bro cause i needed to get a new makeup palette and brushes #buuut.... yall gon be mad at me....... while i was out my store finally started to sell the metroid prime remaster... 👉👈#LISTEN ive wanted to play prime for YEARS ever since i first saw it was a thing for gamecube but i was never able to get it #and then they had a demo run of it at the store and.... yall... i love metroid a lot...#i played super metroid and the first metroid games a lot when i was growing up and prime has been on my list For Years #one day ill play the judgement games...... just not this month i need to catch up with my girl samus 😭😭#cant even do THAT today cause that means going upstairs and my moms home and i also Have That Comic I Wanna Finish SO #thats a thing for me to do..... for now tho bye i got drawing to do

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bigfatbimbo · 3 months

Note

new(ish) anon here. I’ve been lurking for a while but here’s my first prompt/request. sorry if you’ve already written something like this

vox would try so hard to come across as a dom. he’s the head of a voxtek and he has so much power over everyone, including people. so when he gets with you, he’d try so hard to show how dominant he is, only to come apart with each touch he receives. he’d keep losing control until he’s a pathetic, whimpering mess under you.

thank you -📺

a/n — I absolutely eat this idea up. Sometimes I just look at Vox and get this incredible desire to be cruel and terrible.

Also I took a lot of inspiration from that one anon who had a similar idea! Just basically turned it into a whole fic.

At first you were okay with it, him having the power in the dynamic. It was an interesting change from usual so you decided to give it a try.

He was alright at first, even good at what he was doing.

“That’s right, take it, slut,” He muttered harshly as he slid his dick into you.

However, it only took a couple thrusts before he started getting sloppy. You noticed his body start to shake above you, how his harsh words turned into quiet whimpers.

“Fuck, just like—nzz—just like that,“ he would try again, almost giving himself away when his voice cracked at the end.

“Everything ok, vox? You look a little—“ you gesture with your head as he sloppily thrusts into you, “—out of sorts.”

“No I— shut up,” he grunts and buffers slightly.

“Getting tired, already?” You tease as his hips begin moving more frantically. He squeezes his eyes shut as a high frequency starts coming from his head.

Your hands crept up his body and brush over his nipples. Then, finally, his body tenses and he lets out a disgusting, needy whine.

You don’t wait any longer. With on swift movement, you grab his hips and flip positions, leaving him underneath you.

“Hey! S—szz—stop that, you fucking slut i’m—“ he command comes off as more of a tantrum than a display of power.

You ride him so slowly it’s almost unbarable, he weakly attempts to thrust up into you. You shove back down forcefully and wrap your hand loosely around his neck, just strong enough to hold him in place.

“I’m obviously not the slut here, Vox,” You hiss down at him.

He still squirms against you, “G—go faster, fuck,” he complained, his whines making him sound like an indignant child.

“Oh, I don’t think I will,” You hum against him, nails digging into his neck, “It’s embarrassingly clear you can’t handle calling the shots here, baby.”

“Nngh— bzz— yes I can I just—“ he whimpers uselessly, unable to think when you’re riding his dick so agonizingly slow.

“Stop throwing a hissy fit and maybe i’ll speed up,” you say keeping your voice even. “Honestly, Vox, how did you ever expect to dominate me when you pout like a child when you don’t get your way?”

He whines and squirms below you, trying not to glitch out.

“It’s honestly pathetic,” you laugh, speeding up a little bit when he refrains from arguing, “But, it is funny, how fast you fall apart.”

He simply whimpers in response, screen lagging out almost as rapidly as his voice. He practically sinks into the mattress when you ride his dick faster.

You start to hump him at a rapid, rough, pace, making his back arch him and his screen complete blank out for a couple seconds.

“You make it so much harder than it needs to be, Vox,” you grunt against him, “How hard is it to be good for me? Do you need to throw a fit every time?”

“Fuck— zzs—“ Vox cried out, trying not the thrust upward, trying to avoid anymore degrading words from you.

You were being so mean, and even though he knew it was his doing, he miserably craved validation from you after all of these harsh jeers.

Although it was getting harder to speak without incoherently glitching out, he tried his hardest to mutter out sorry excuses for apologies.

You took them into consideration and rode him faster, caressing his chest with your thumb. “I have to admit though, baby, you are so damn pretty when you’re like this.”

It was stupid, it was barely praise. And yet he grasped desperately at the strings of your approval.

The frequency in his head got unbearably loud and he threw his hands to the stop of his screen and moaned loudly.

All of a sudden, your hips slowed to a stop, and you gazed down at him in disgust.

“Why’d you st—st—stop?” he whined up at you before realizing his mistake. He had came prematurely and without permission.

You grabbed his throat and he moaned, “Did I say you could do that, pretty boy?”

He shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut, feeling his screen blank out for a couple seconds.

“And to think you tried to hold any power over me,” you practically laugh, “You cant even control yourself, you stupid whore.”

He hiccuped and let out a low whimper, “‘m sorry, ‘m so s—szz—sorry, please,” he cried, “‘need praise, I cant—“

His voice glitches out and the power flashes. You start riding him again as you take his wrists and hold them down on either side of him, preventing him from touching you as he squirmed and writhed below you.

“Earn it.”

a/n — Maybe later tonight i’ll finally get out that one pegging Lucifer fic i’ve been teasing for the past four days but literally never finished.

The night is young!

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel vox #dom reader #vox hazbin hotel #vox x reader #hazbin vox

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sahkuna · 9 days

Text

a follow up to this drabble i wrote abt fucking around with yuuji's older brother sukuna :3 but fret not, this can be read as a stand-alone

word count: 1.5k+

content warnings: 18+ minors dni, afab+fem! reader, childhood "friends" with benefits, best friend's brother trope, modern au, slight exhibitionism on the behalf of u and sukuna :3

You would rather die than step out into Sukuna's living room where his younger brother, Itadori Yuuji, sits blissfully unaware of your presence.

Half of you does not have the heart to walk out there and potentially expose the fact that ‘Hey, I’m that ‘random girl' that Sukuna has been canoodling with! Sorry about that, by the way!’ You couldn’t imagine his reaction and didn’t want to find out anytime soon, so you’re currently hiding out in Sukuna’s bedroom— praying and hoping that Yuuji would leave before you do.

After hearing the younger Itadori brother’s unrelenting fists pounding at Sukuna’s front door, you were absolutely mortified at the timing of it all. From his arrival to how Sukuna was balls deep inside your pussy— and showed little to no concern at the fact that Yuuji might hear the… commotion… on the other side— it all went from good to bad real fast.

It didn’t take long for Sukuna to grow irritated with the sounds of Yuuji’s incessant whining for him to open the door and not invite him over when he’s got ‘some girl’ there, before he finally pulled out of you, threw on some clothes and yanked the door open. Almost ripping it off its hinges.

Pushing back the thoughts of the sex (and how incredible it was), you focus on the main task at hand.

You need to leave. Now.

Squatted down on the floor, you search for your black lace bralette that Sukuna tossed into a corner hours before his little brother’s abrupt arrival. “Can’t believe this…” you mutter under your breath.

From behind you, you swear you hear a faint snicker coming from the man who got you in this predicament in the first place. He watches you with careful eyes as you tip-toe around his room with nothing but your jeans and socks on, trying not to alert your best friend in the next room over of your presence. “Relax, the brat can’t even hear you,” he says.

“You don’t know that,” you all but hiss, throwing a threatening glare (one that he doesn’t flinch under) Sukuna’s way. “He could be waiting there, ready to accost me the moment I walk out!”

Honestly, you wouldn’t blame Yuuji if he did choose to confront you and verbally rip you to shreds. For Christ’s sake, you were fucking his brother behind his back! Quite literally.

But despite the circumstances of you starting a “friends with benefits” type of relationship with Sukuna and how terrible it made you feel to secretly withhold something so significant from your best friend, you’d be lying if you said you wanted to stop.

Judging how Sukuna’s gaze trails up the expanse of your belly and lifts higher to linger briefly on the swell of your breasts, it’s safe to say he thinks the same.

You toss a protective arm over your exposed chest to preserve some of your dignity despite the circumstances.

“Can you just—” you flounder for words, trying to find the best words to use next and finally settle on something. “Distract him? Talk to him so that when I leave, he doesn’t have time to digest that it’s me.”

There’s an amused glint in his eye, he’s far too entertained at your frail attempts to at least salvage this shitty situation. Your eyes leave him in search of your bra once more and breathe a quiet sigh of relief once you do spot it behind his dresser. “Just walk out the door. Who cares.”

Wasting no time you throw on the undergarment, clasping it shut before your attention is drawn back to Sukuna. Your face morphs into pure astonishment at how nonchalant he is about this… and reckless. “Are you crazy?!” you whisper-yell for the second time that day.

The corners of his lips curl up, forming a wicked grin. “It’ll be fine. You should go out as you are right now.” He gestures at your half-dressed figure with an uncaring hand. “I’m sure he’ll like it.”

Speaking of…

“Give me one of your sweaters. Preferably one that has a hood.”

Sukuna’s eyes narrow, and his tone lowers a bit. “Leave with what you came with. Don’t know why you’re so threatened over the fact that he’ll see you.”

“No! Yuuji’s seen me one too many times in this shirt,” you reference the tee that is scribbled with your university’s name on its front, “so he’ll know it’s me if he were to turn his head.”

Sukuna clicks his tongue with annoyance and though it’s brief, you catch an expression that you can only chalk up to be one of disappointment flicker across his face before he schools it back into indifference. “Fine.”

Standing abruptly, Sukuna leaves his spot on his bed to head toward the closet. He digs around for a few seconds before he pulls out a black sweater and flings it at your face, effectively clouding your vision until you peel it off. “Hurry up then.” Is all you hear before he leaves the room to go see Yuuji once again.

Okay. That went… pretty well? Excluding the tough time Sukuna gave you before and after.

You let out another involuntary moan when Sukuna drives his hips into you when another round of knocks echoes throughout his apartment. You can feel your cunt squeeze around his cock, feeling the intense heat from the predicament you both were in right now.

“You’re real perverted, huh?” Sukuna’s hand finds the back of your neck. He squeezes. “Don’t tell me you’re getting turned on by this?”

Another muffled exclamation escapes you as you try to refute it, but Sukuna laughs at your attempt.

Yuuji might hear. Yuuji might hear. Yuuji might hear. That was all you could think of.

“Cute.” Is all Sukuna says before he’s back to thrusting his hips against yours. Forcing you to take it as you lay in a blissful, helpless state on his bed, rocking the bed roughly with every movement he made.

In and out, over and over and over and—

You smack your palms against your cheeks. Stop! Stop. Thinking. About it! You remind yourself.

You’re sure you’ve spent too much time here anyway, so you throw on Sukuna’s sweater hurriedly. As you hype yourself up to exit, you tuck away any hair that may show into the hoodie.

Thankfully, it seems like Yuuji has delved into chattering boisterously away about God knows what to Sukuna, while his older brother just sits there only offering a few grunts and affirmatory noises to show that he was listening. Kinda… Not really.

Stepping out from the bedroom, you close the door in a manner that would have Sukuna chiding you to ‘hurry the fuck up’. Once that’s done, you very quietly pad down the hallway and make a beeline straight towards your shoes. You thank your lucky stars you chose ones that were easy to slip on.

Great. Everything is going smoothly so far.

Yuuji’s still talking away and unaware of your company and you’re all dressed, ready to head back out to where the bustling street of Tokyo awaits you.

But it gets shot down too fast. Before you can even grasp your hand around the doorknob, you hear Sukuna speak up from behind you.

“Leaving so soon?”

That fucking asshole.

No way in hell did he just draw attention to you right as you were about to step out the door.

Biting your cheek you keep your back facing them, forehead pressed into the door’s frame as you grip its doorknob to refrain from screaming. “Mhm!”

Sukuna’s laughter is low and taunting. You can tell that he’s basking in this moment, being able to mock both you and his little brother at the same time in a manner that screams I know something that you don’t know. “You know, she went to the same school as you, kid.” He’s now talking to Yuuji, prompting him to say something to you and he bites.

“It’s uh… nice to meet you?” you hear Yuuji say.

God, you can even picture that dumb confused yet polite expression he makes when he’s caught in an awkward situation.

“Mhm!” you repeat, because what the fuck else is there to say?

There’s a long beat of silence, the brothers don’t say anything and neither do you. You wouldn’t dare.

It isn’t until Itadori’s voice from the couch floats over to you. His tone is riddled with confusion and a bit of recognition. “Hold on, I think I—”

“I’m gonna see her off, don’t move.” Sukuna commands, successfully interrupting his train of thought. Swooping into the rescue, you hear him come up to you. He toes on his shoes and places his palm on top of yours so that he can twist the knob open. His hand dwarfs the size of your own.

Woof.

You’re ushered outside, and it’s like that all the way to the elevator with Sukuna’s hand still seizing your hand. It’s only when you slap your hand against the button calling for the elevator that he lets go. You don’t bother exchanging any parting words for him, seeing that you’re too peeved to do so anyway. Thus, Sukuna speaks up before the lift dings signifying its arrival.

“Same time next week?”

“Shut. Up!”

#sukuna x reader #sukuna ryoumen x reader #sukuna smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #bfb sukuna #LETS GOOOOOO AHHHH #idk why when i put a divider it doesn’t show in the tags but whateva

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gglitch1dd · 21 days

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Hiya glitch! Just out of curiosity, in a completely dif timeline if Katsuki hadn’t cheated in the first place, would y/n and him ended up at least having a family in the future as well? If so about how many kids do you think they would have had if they considered it?

Also since you head canon Izuku to have only boys and Eiji only girls, what’s your headcanon for Kats? :0

Hey lovey!! In a different timeline where Katsuki hadn't cheated, I do think reader and him would end up pretty happy together. There's no sign showing that they wouldn't. I do think Katsuki would have more girls than boys though. His life would go a bit like this:

DILF Katsuki's Perfect Ending

DILF Bakugou Katsuki x Wifey Reader

Katsuki sat up with a gasp, clutching his heart. He sat in bed his crimson eyes wide in fear as his heart beat a million miles an hour. He noticed you shift next to him, turning to look up at him confused, your eyes still clouded with sleep. Katsuki looked at the window noticing the few strands of morning light seeping in. He saw you saying something but he couldn’t hear what you said. He grabbed his hearing aids from their charging doc and put them in his ears.

At sound returning to his world, he took a deep breath.

“Katsuki?” You placed a hand on his arm as you slowly sat up in bed. Your eyebrows furrowed in worry. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Katsuki looked at you before looking off to the side. “I had a nightmare.” He let out lowly, his voice still deep and scratchy with sleep. He looked greatly disturbed by whatever this nightmare was about. You moved over closer to him, tilting your head confused. “I cheated on you and you married Deku.” He started making your face fall and your eyes wide.

“And you had all these little broccoli haired brats! And they were everywhere! Five whole boys, Y/N, for that fucking nerd! And you were so happy and I was miserable and I missed you so much! And I regrated everything and I was married to Eijiro and we had a divorce and then I had this kid from an egg doner or something, he seemed like a good kid, but I was a terrible father! It was horrible! You were all over Deku being such an amazing wife and making him all these dumplings that made him look like a fucking pig and-”

Katsuki stopped rambling about his dream as you giggled at the explanation of what he had been through in his sleep. You leaned against his arm, looking up at him amused. That was not the first thing you thought your husband would tell you this morning. “Really Katsuki? Me and Izuku?” You asked with a raised eyebrow. “That must have been one hell of a dream, Katsuki, but I’m here.” You took his large hand in yours, intertwining your fingers. “Your wife of two decades, I’m here.”

At that reminder his shoulders eased as he moved to wrap his arms around you and pull you back to lie in bed. He took a deep breath, just feeling you wrapped up in his arms. You always fit so good there, where you belonged. He tightened his arms around. “Yah, you’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking.” He grumbled. “You’d never marry Deku.”

“…”

“…Y/N!”

You let out a laugh at the pure distress in the way he said your name. “I’m pulling your leg, Tsuki. I have no reason to marry Izuku. I have you and the kids and that’s all I need.” You told him honestly, resting your head on his chest with a smile. He nodded in agreement with that statement, an affirming grunt. “But now that we’re awake, we should get breakfast and wake up the kids.” You reminded him.

He let out a low grumbled. “Right. Those little parasites.” He grumbled making you laugh as you carefully started getting out of bed, but Katsuki wouldn’t let go of you.

“Hey! They are your little parasites Mr Bakugō.” You reminded him, tapping his cheek.

He playfully scowled at you like the big man child he was. “Don’t remind me.” He joked, rolling his eyes.

You tried wrenching yourself free but it wasn’t working. “Katsuki. Let go of me.”

“No.” He stated adamantly as he pulled you closer, moving to roll on top of you.

You let out a laugh at how impossible he was being. You tried pushing him off you but the giant prohero was not budging one bit. “You’re heavy!”

He clung to you like a koala. “Too bad.”

After convincing Katsuki that you could take a bath together as long as he got off of you, you headed to freshen up before you both left your bedroom. Katsuki went to his domain which was the kitchen. He slipped on his pink frilly apron that his dad used to wear and got started on breakfast as you came down the steps with your four year old and youngest child.

You sat Kazue on the ground and she went waddling over to her father immediately, grabbing onto his sweatpants. Katsuki looked down at the little blond girl with poofy pigtails. She tugged on his pants before looking up at him with her little Dynamight plushy in her arms. She sucked on her thumb before looking up at him. “Morning Poppa.” She greeted softly.

Katsuki smiled at his only quiet child. He grabbed a cloth and wiped his hands before picking her up. “There you are my angel.” He said, kissing her chubby cheek making her smile as she took her thumb out of her mouth and wrapped her arms around his neck. He held her with one arm, putting her on his hip as he continued to make pancakes. “Poppa’s making pancakes. Will you eat one?” She nodded her head, keeping her head in the crook of his neck.

Letting out a loud yawn walking into the kitchen was your eldest. You smiled at the sight of him as he automatically made his way to you. He placed a kiss to your cheek before resting his head on top of yours. You chuckled. “Morning Eitsuki.”

“Mornin’ Ma” He grumbled tiredly. The blond teenager basically just clung to you, recharging whatever battery he wasn’t able to last night.

You moved a hand to his face softly. “Up gaming all night?” You asked. He let out an affirmative sound. Katsuki let out a tsk. Eitsuki raised an eyebrow. He let go of you and moved to sit at the kitchen island as well. “Morning Pops.” Katsuki let out a grunt in reply. Eitsuki turned to you, deep blood crimson eyes looking at you. He motioned to his father. “What’s wrong with him?” He asked confused.

“Your father had a bad dream. He said I got married to Uncle Izuku.”

Eitsuki let out a scoff as he took out his phone from his pocket. “Bad dream?” He leaned back. “Sounds like a fucking nightmare.”

“That’s what I said!” Katsuki said loudly, turning back with a pointed look, trying to emphasise his point. “Deku can’t be the number one fucking hero and take my wife! Not over,” He pointed his spatula to his chest. “My dead body!”

You rolled your eyes at your excentric husband and looked back to your eldest. “It’s so nice to have you for the weekend from UA. How’s it going?”

The sixteen year old shrugged. “It’s alright, Mr Aizawa is pretty fed up though. Said he was getting war flashbacks or something.”

Katsuki scoffed at the mention of his old teacher but a small smile on his face as he shook his head, turning back to flip the fluffy pancake perfectly. “He’s just scared cause he already had to deal with us once upon a time.”

Eitsuki opened his mouth to speak when-

“POPPA!” A loud shout called as a girl entered the room. The twelve year old held a phone to her ear as she peaked into the kitchen.

“DON’T FUCKING SHOUT!” Eitsuki barked at her with a scowl on his face. “IT’S LIKE EIGHT IN THE MORNING!”

“I WASN’T TALKING TO YOU!” Hikaru screamed back.

Your husband rolled his eyes before looking at his second eldest child. “What is it Hikaru?”

She turned to look back at her father. “Can I go out with Hana and Sachiko? We want to go out to the mall?” She asked as she leaned against the doorpost. The girl looked a lot like your mother in law Mitsuki and had the same fiery temper that the Bakugō’s had.

Katsuki was silent for a moment as he thought about it. He looked too you. You shrugged, not seeing a problem with it. He looked back to Hikaru. “Only if your brother goes with you.” He motioned to Eitsuki.

Eitsuki and Hikaru both got wide eyes, clearly neither of them liking that arrangement. “WHAT!?”

“Pops I don’t want to go with her and her annoying friends!” Eitsuki stated as he motioned to his sister. “They’ll drag me around like a headless chicken!”

“And I don’t want to be stuck with him!” She pointed at her brother with a finger. “He’s ugly! He ruins the entire trip!”

“I AM NOT UGLY!”

“WHO TOLD YOU THAT? MOM!”

“POPPA!” Running into the kitchen was your eight year old, Suzume. “Are you taking me to gymnastic practice?”

“POPS DID YOU HEAR WHAT SHE JUST SAID TO ME?”

“HE SMELLS TOO!”

“BUT WHAT ABOUT GYMNASTICS!”

“EVERYBODY SHUT UP!” Your husband shouted, effectively silencing everyone.

He looked over at his family with wide eyes. He put his fingers to the bridge of his nose with a scowl as he sighed. Kazue looked up at her father with a tired look but snuggled back into his neck, burying her face there. At the feeling of his youngest he sighed.

He opened his eyes and looked to Eitsuki. “You! You’re going to the mall with your sister, you’re there for three hours then you can drag her ass back home. You!” He pointed to Hikaru. “You’re brother is going with you whether you like it or not. I’m not letting a bunch of twelve year old girls go around a mall by themselves. You!” He pointed to Suzume. “Mom’s taking you to gymnastic practice, make sure you’re ready by ten. And you!” Katsuki looked to you. You looked up from where you were sipping your coffee.

You looked around before smiling. “You seem like you’re handling things, Tsuki.” You affirmed with a smile. “Good job.” You gave him a thumbs up.

Katsuki rolled his eyes as the kitchen started up with talking again. His two eldest were arguing, his third was busy trying to convince you to let her bring her new costume to gymnastics and at least his youngest seemed very comfortable in his arms. Despite the chaos that was the Bakugō family, Katsuki smiled.

-Glitch1d

#mha x y/n #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou #bnha #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki #dilf bakugou #dilf katsuki bakugou #dilf bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #mha #katsuki x you #katsuki x y/n

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randomshyperson · 7 months

Text

Party Monster - Wanda Maximoff Kinktober #01

Summary: A Halloween party takes an interesting turn when Wanda reunites with her ex-girlfriend. Maybe she'll learn a lesson or two, or maybe she'll still be terrible at following orders.

Warnings: (+18), Dom!Reader with Brat!Wanda, ex-girlfriends who are not over each other at all, really rough smut with teasing and orgasm denial, a lot of cursing, power dynamics, toxic behavior, unhealthy relationship (implied), the “cheating vs we are on a break” dilemma, mentions of a party atmosphere but no explicit alcohol consumption mentioned, Ghostface mask during smut scene ‘cause I’m a simp for Amber Freeman. | Words: 2.688k

A/N- Someone needs to get slasher movies away from me, but I thought this would be a good theme for kinktober. And we started with dom!Reader too because it’s a tradition. Good reading by the way, your horny people.

General Masterlist | Kinktober Collection | AO3 | Wattpad

-&-

It was definitely a bad idea.

Terrible, poorly thought-out, and reckless.

But Wanda finished putting the costume together and the final touch - the black gloves - made her take a deep breath, trying to gain a little confidence in her Halloween costume.

In the bedroom mirror, there was still a photograph that she knew she should have taken from there to at least fool herself that she could move on, but just as she had done dozens of times before, Wanda adjusted the item to prevent it from falling.

Your smiling figure stares back at her, and Wanda sighs softly, ready to party.

She crossed the campus in half an hour, alone because the girls went ahead and honestly, Wanda wasn't that close to her friends nowadays. Not since the break-up anyway.

"Hey, Wanda!" The male voice shouting her name startles her for a moment. But she forces a smile as she is enveloped in a strong hug, Steve Rogers entering her field of vision in the next second. He looked drunk when she got a closer look. "Glad you could make it."

The forced smile begins to bother her face, so Wanda stops, swallowing dryly and trying not to look so uncomfortable.

"Yeah, thanks." She mumbles awkwardly, nodding towards the open door, where the party seems even fuller and livelier. "Stark sure knows how to throw a party."

Steve laughs. "That he does." He says, looking ready to start small talk. Usually, he's as out of place as Wanda in crowded environments, but now he's got enough alcohol in his system to seem cool compared to the rest of the team's jocks, who stand out at parties with their eyes closed. "The guys are inside, come say hi and we can get you something to drink."

The non-existent details of the exact people who constituted the " guys " Steve was referring to made Wanda's stomach turn. But the blond had already grabbed her hand and was pulling her into the crowd, and frankly, Wanda wasn't going to make a scene.

She could handle the possibility of you being at the party, even if she hadn't seen you for four weeks. And three days, nineteen hours, and according to the clock by the beers, fifteen minutes.

"Guys, look who showed up!" Steve announces to the group at the ping pong tables. Wanda remembers the first year when you first visited the fraternity house and you made a joke about the number of expensive objects in the place, and she laughed even though she didn't really get the joke. God, she was so whipped back then.

The whole group looks at them at once. Wanda almost giggles at the scene, all the creative costumes are a sight to behold. Natasha in leather outfits similar to her sister's, or Tony in some kind of colorful armor. Thor dressed as the god after whom he was named, and Clint as a green archer.

And then there was you, with a ghostface mask around your neck so you could get to taste your drink.

You almost choke on the liquid when you meet Wanda's gaze, and she could consider it a personal victory. At least you looked as affected as she was.

It's obvious that the atmosphere gets heavy. Everyone there knows that you two broke up and that it wasn't a pretty thing. Or easy.

And maybe that's why Yelena hides a tense laugh behind her glass of drink and Natasha rushes over to greet Wanda and put an end to the scene.

The only person Wanda really wants to greet tonight puts her mask back on. You drop the glass and leave without saying anything, making the mood even worse.

Natasha clears her throat and strokes Wanda's arm gently. "Don't mind her, I, we, are happy to see you, sweetheart. I'll talk to her, enjoy the party."

It's sweet of Natasha to worry, but as the night goes on and you don't exchange a word, and you keep ignoring her, Wanda doesn't feel a bit better.

She tries to have a good time, but her gaze keeps seeking out your figure, which manages to evade her curiosity masterfully.

You disappear for a good few minutes after beer-pong, and Wanda begins to consider leaving. So she dismisses Bucky Barnes' story about a mess with the rival team and decides to be miserable in her bed instead of at a party full of strangers.

She turns into the corridor and there's a Ghostface cornering a pretty girl at the bottom of the stairs.

Anger blooms and dominates her actions before she can think about it. She lunges forward and grabs the figure by the cap of the costume, hard enough to almost knock the couple over.

The male's shout makes her wince.

"Are you fucking mental?" Complains the stranger in confusion and indignation.

"I-I, shit, I thought it was someone else" She stammers with wide eyes, walking backward, away from the confused couple.

The scene attracts the attention of a few people around, but she feels her back hit somebody and before she can turn around, two hands come around her waist and push her away from the angry guy.

Wanda blinks, and you shove him away harshly. "Back the fuck off, motherfucker."

The man snorts indignantly. By now, half the party is staring at the scene. "What the hell? She started it."

"And I'm finishing, fuck off." You cut him off coldly, and you probably wear that costume better than he does, because the guy hesitates and turns away to grab the girl's hand behind him, leaving without saying another word.

You turn your masked face to Wanda, and she feels hers burning with shame. All you do is shake your head in disbelief and take the hard way upstairs.

Wanda follows you without thinking about it.

She stops the bedroom door from closing with her hand and ignores your protest.

"I'm sorry-"

"I don't want to talk to you." You cut her off, holding up a finger. "I don't even want to look at you, Maximoff. Get the fuck out." You advance but Wanda is quicker. She closes the door behind her, and you end up pressing her into the wood by the arms.

You sigh heavily, as affected as she is.

"I thought it was you." She confesses in a shaky whisper, her hands trapped behind the body you kept squeezing. "I don't know what I'd do if I saw you with someone else."

You chuckle dryly, taking a step back. "Apparently you'd try to throw me to the ground."

Your attempt to pull away completely is interrupted - Wanda grabs your wrists, trying to get you to wrap your arms around her again. It becomes a struggle of pushing and impatient grunting. Until Wanda is forced against the bed, and her apologies break down into a dirty moan.

Your hand around her neck - in an attempt to get her to shut up and stop repeating what you don't want to hear - has a very different effect.

You're on top of her, pinning her to the mattress with your own body. Wanda thinks you can feel how wet she is against your thigh.

"Don't make a fucking sound. I don't want to hear you, understand?" You warn, the loosest grip on her throat to allow her to breathe. Wanda nods obediently and has to bite her lip hard when you pull up her skirt, only to grope for her panties.

Silence is an impossible task, especially when your fingers, so eager and familiar, thrust into her without warning. She squirms, throbbing in your fingerprints, and the sigh of pleasure is yours.

"Fuck, I've missed your pussy." You pant, fucking her carelessly, hard, and deep. The sound of Wanda's soaked arousal makes her ears burn - but she doesn't mind. She's busy trying to keep still, even when you're driving her over the edge so quickly. You notice, of course, and pull out as soon as she's ready to let go, and Wanda breaks into a loud whimper, her hips thrusting restlessly into the air.

You let go of her throat to grab her cheeks. "You're not going to come, Wanda. You don't deserve it. And you know why, don't you?"

Her pussy is throbbing, enough to be almost painful, knocking her out of orbit. All she can do is whimper, nodding; you let out a wicked chuckle. "And why don't you deserve it, darling?"

Of course, you'd make her admit it. Because everything so far hasn't been hell enough. Wanda turns her face away, and with her silence, a slap hits her pussy. She spasms, moaning loudly, her back arched in the mattress.

She almost came in one go. Holding onto the edge at the last second.

"Oh god please." She whimpers shamelessly, and you grunt, watching the wetness ooze down her thighs, her pussy clenching against the emptiness in front of you. Wanda wants to come so badly that you almost feel sorry for her. "Just... one time. I'll do whatever you want."

You chuckle, and spread her legs a lit more to fit your body, pressing her against the bed. The friction between your joined hips makes her groan, trying to grind up onto you, but you remain firm, holding her still.

"Tell me." You demand. "Why aren't you allowed to come?"

She shakes her head, tears welling up in her eyes. "I... I can't."

You sigh impatiently and walk away at once. Wanda almost cries at the lack of contact.

"Get out of my room."

"N-no, please-"

"Then say it!"

Despite her shame, Wanda swallows her tears. "I fucked up."

You chuckle coldly, busy opening a drawer. "Clarify it." You command, and Wanda only obeys because she knows very well what's in the last drawer of your bedside table, she can feel herself clenching for the feeling. With a dry throat, and looking brazenly at what you're wrapping around your waist, she retorts: "I fucked someone else." She murmurs, biting her lip when the hardness is properly fitted. You laugh dryly.

"Hm, and why did you do that?"

Wanda spreads out on the bed, a bait. You don't fall for it. She pants in anticipation. "I wanted to get a reaction out of you. We're on a break. I wanted you to regret it."

Your hand begins to slowly masturbate the dildo and Wanda lets out a shuddering breath, becoming even more aroused by the image.

“I’m the one who will make you regret it.” It is your final clarification. But Wanda gasps.

"Take your mask off, I want to look at you."

But you chuckle again, darkly enough for Wanda to shudder. "What you want doesn't matter to me anymore." You retort, and Wanda has no room for hurt now, the lust and longing for the feel of your body on hers taking over all her senses. "Get on all fours, you’re gonna watch yourself."

Wanda moves on trembling limbs, her face burning. She tries to ignore the mirror in the corner of the room, but as soon as you're behind her, your hand grabs her hair and forces her head up.

The Ghostface mask stares back at her. "You're going to watch me fuck your needy pussy and you're not going to cum, Wanda. No matter how much you want it, how much you beg for it." You warn sternly, your free hand adjusting the toy at her entrance. "Because petty, selfish girls who ruin a three-year fucking relationship don't deserve to come, do they?"

She shakes her head, at this point, she thinks she'll agree to anything you say. And you must understand that pleasure has gotten the better of her because you start masturbating her entrance with the tip of the fake cock and it's enough for her knees to give way. She whines in a plea.

"Please-"

You sink into her at once, filling her to the brim and Wanda moans throatily, her hands clutching the sheets. The last time you were this deep, playing power games, Wanda squirted on the new sheets, and she's not sure that after going a month without touching you, she can stop it from happening again. "God."

You chuckle hoarsely, seeming to have the best time in the world with this. You pull out of her only to enter again, slow enough for Wanda to let out a sob. "Hold it."

"I-I can't." She cries out, choking on her own breath, and instead of taking pity, you sink in again, picking up a rough pace. Wanda would have fallen onto the mattress, but you grab her hair again and force her to watch what's happening.

"Look how beautiful you are when you're being properly fucked." You tease, your hips never failing against her. Wanda can only moan in return, each second more impossible to stop the knot in her belly from bursting. "I know no one makes you this wet, Wanda. No one knows your body like I do." To prove a point, your hand slips between her legs, and eager fingers flick her neglected clit exactly in the way that makes her squeal to the ceiling.

Thank God for the loud sound of Tony Stark's parties.

Wanda is sure she's going to cum by now, and you can tell because you've been through this hundreds of times, and you know her body like the back of your hand. The fake cock slides out the second she's ready to let it go, and Wanda collapses flaccidly onto the bed with the lack of your hands while unable to hold back her tears.

"Fuck you, I hate you, I fucking hate you, you bitch." She babbled breathlessly, the frustration of her second stolen orgasm of the night making her groggy. You chuckle as she squirms on the bed, hugging her own body, and Wanda doesn't even notice that you've moved away just to lock the door.

Wanda is still trying to catch her breath when you remove the mask in one pull and kneel in front of her on the bed, between her legs which you pull open.

You don't give her a chance to prepare, you move in and start eagerly fucking her pussy, ignoring how Wanda writhes on the bed and muffles her moans in the mattress.

"Oh my god." She meows, her knuckles clutching the sheets, and the only thing stopping her thighs from closing against your head are your hands holding her tight. "I c-can't hold it, detka! 'can't-"

You stop again, and Wanda thinks she might kill you. This time, you sigh into her. "Hold it, or I swear to God I'll switch to another college."

Wanda is forced to chuckle at that. It's stilted and hoarse, and she knows there's a grain of truth in your words, but she does it anyway. Even more annoyed, you stand up.

She despairs but is giggling nervously. "No, wait, babe, I'll behave, I promise."

It's your turn to chuckle, in disbelief at the scene. Wanda clung to you as if your departure was the worst thing in the world.

"You're a lying brat, Wanda." You say, and despite the harsh words, your hand gently strokes her hair. Wanda sighs shakily, the redness in her cheeks showing how much she enjoyed the words. You push her hands away and take two steps back. Far enough, you quickly untie the item from around your waist. "I'm going back to the party. And if you want to cum tonight, you'll stay here. Waiting like a good girl."

She opens her mouth to protest, but you hold up a finger in warning, and the seriousness in your gaze is enough for her to know that if she disobeys now, you'll send her away.

Swallowing dryly, she lets you go, and when the door closes, she throws herself back on the mattress.

Her body’s on fire, and the traces of your shampoo on the pillow don't help. She moans low, adjusting to touch herself.

Maybe, just maybe, you won't mind if she comes while looking at your picture on the bedside table.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff oneshots #kinktober 2023 #wanda maximoff #marvel imagines #elizabeth olsen x reader

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mrsrdlw · 3 months

Text

All my loving

Summary: Eddie got your cold and now you are taking care of him.

wc: 1k

warnings: pure fluff; eddie being horny (control yourself sir); a little overthinking.

Enjoy!

Three weeks ago you were sick. You came walking to your boyfriend’s house to spend the night with him and, on the way back to your place, the rain started to pour. He would have picked you up and dropped you off if it wasn’t for his little problem. His van was on the mechanic and your mom was out of town.

Feeling guilty for it, he offered to take care of you. So he came every day to make you some company, tried to cook for you and to give you back rubs. The only thing was that he didn’t mind you were sick, or he simply just forgot, because he would still kiss you in each five minutes.

“Eddie, stop it! You are going to get sick too!” You’d say to him, trying to be mad at him.

“No, you need all my loving so you can get better!” He’d said giggling and massaging your scalp. “Honestly, i can’t take you serious with you talking like that.”

“Like what?”

Again, he giggled softly at you. “Don’t worry baby, let’s try to sleep a little bit, ‘kay?”

After two weeks, you got better. No more runny nose or non-stop coughing. But then, in a blink of an eye, Eddie started to have the same symptoms you had and got your cold.

He’s been sick for a week, but there was a thing that didn’t happened to you, but it did with Eddie. He was extremely touchy, grumpy and didn’t want to let you help him. You didn’t know what was worse. His mood swings or he pretending that he wasn’t feeling terrible and wanting to do everything by himself.

Now, here you were at his house. It was raining and chilly outside. You made Eddie a tea with some cookies in the afternoon so you could watch a movie. It seemed to be the only way to keep him quiet and calm. He didn’t make it to half of it and slept on your lap.

After the movie was over, you were chopping some potatoes at the kitchen when he surrounded your waist with his arms.

“Hey sleepyhead, did you sleep well?” you said kissing his cheek and going back to chop.

“I was till you left” his voice was raspy with sleep and tiredness. He started to kiss your neck. “Whacha cookin’, hm?”

“I’m making us a soup. I thought it would be good for you.” You put all the vegetables to boil “Also, once you said Wayne liked it too, so i’m doing it”

“You could do something else, huh?” Then you felt the pressure on your lower back. Maybe his voice wasn’t raspy only because of tiredness. “What do you think?”

“I think you are crazy!” You couldn’t help but laugh “Eds, you’re sick baby.”

“But we don’t have to be face to face, you know. There’s some other positions” He said a little upset “Like that, you wouldn’t get sick again.”

“No Eddie. That’s not the point.” You took his hands and led him to his bedroom “Now, why don’t you take your clothes off and… NOT FOR THAT!” you said seeing his mischievous smirk. “I’ll give you a shower and then we can eat some, how’s that?”

He stayed in silence for a while and then he close the space between you two and hugged you tightly. You returned it. He was needy. Begging to all the metal gods so this could be over and he could have all of you again. All of you just for him.

“I know sweetie, this will be over soon, alright?” You knew he needed some loving as well.

“Alright.” You two walked to the bathroom. You started to wash his hair, massaging his hair, and he started to hum quietly.

“I’m sorry baby” he said apologetically with his eyes closed, feeling you wash his hair

“For what Ed?”

“You’re being extremely nice and i’m being grumpy all day.” You looked at him opening his eyes. His big brown eyes shining for you. “You don’t deserve it”

“What’re you saying? You’re sick Eddie! No one is happy to have a cold, you know.” You said talking the soap “When i was sick, you took care of me. Now i’m doing the same for you and, very soon, you’ll be better. Just do me a favor?”

“Anything sweetheart.” His voice was funny. Now you understand why he was always laughing at your voice.

“Stop thinking too much. Finish your shower. Go and put some nice pijamas and come to the living room so we can eat dinner and be together.”

That was exactly what he did. He sat beside you on the couch. He was eating his soup and a grilled cheese you made for him. “Damn, that’s so good. If it means you’re making this every time i get sick, then i wanna be sick everyday.”

“I’m glad you liked it.” The shower seemed to be helpful. He was feeling better.

In two hours Eddie was on the edge of sleep, trying to keep a conversation with you.

“Why don’t we continue this tomorrow?”

“Are you going to sleep here?”

“Do you want me to?”

“I do. Very much.”

“Then i will” He forgot you came here with a bag of clothes for the weekend

“I love you so fucking much”

“I love you too. So fucking much.”

When Wayne came in, Eddie was far gone on your lap. You offered him your soup and tried to take Eddie to his bedroom. You were on Wayne’s bed after all.

“Thank you hun. For taking care of my boy” He said eating the soup. “Damn, that’s so good”

You laughed at his reaction which was the same as Eddie’s. “Glad you liked it. And it’s nothing. You know i love him.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson x female character #eddie x you

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