#(I mean if they different enough I don't mind doing such!

[leandra-kinard]

I'm in no way invalidating this post, as I assume it's US-centric. But it's a stark reminder how vastly different the work cultures are there and in Germany where I live and work.

Yes, you don't have to tell your boss everything, and in some instances it's a good idea to say less, but if you have any kind of long-term illness or condition, it actually is a good idea to talk about it with your boss (and HR + the work's council, if you have one). Good employers in Germany will then do their best to accommodate for your needs so they can keep you and make things work out for you. They tend to have a more long-term mindset where they want to help the employee get better or find better ways to be a happy (and yes, with that productive) employee.

That's not always the case either; especially internationally operating corporations here are a bit more cut-throat, so it's a good thing to know the company's mindset well, but it's a tendency.

Also, there are actual laws that prohibit them from firing you for something like that. There are limits, for example if you're actually sick (off work) for too long repeatedly with no prospect of improvement that can be a just cause for termination, but the employer has the duty of proof in that instance. If they cannot prove that your absences are too detrimental to the company's well-being for them to tolerate it, you can sue for reinstatement or damages.

At my current company, I've been immensely lucky, because even for German standards the mentality there is extraordinarily understanding and supportive. When I told my boss that I was burned out and had to take a week or two off (on fully paid sick leave, mind you), he said "Two weeks might not be enough. Take as long as you need." So I took four.

I was in the process of switching departments, so I had a conversation with my next boss too and asked if I could work from home completely for a while. He seemed very understanding, and I then told him the whole story - because he also needed to have some kind of prospect and know how long it was gonna take etc - so I said I was in the process of being diagnosed for ADHD and that I just couldn't manage also having to go into the office.

Now that I have the diagnosis and will soon hopefully get my meds, there's that prospect, and we said for now, I was gonna come in one day a week (usually 2 is mandatory) for a while until I feel ready to be there two days again.

That was only possible because I explained what was going on with me; the transparency also gave the employer a positive outlook and a feeling of trust, and when your company's mentality is built on those kinds of values, it makes for a million times more pleasant AND productive working environment. I mean, just by how this all was handled I do feel very loyal to my company now. (I'd be stupid to leave, frankly, lol).

And from many other cases I know how they reacted too. A colleague had to stay at home because she had pregnancy complications - no problem. Another one sometimes has to leave early or work from home because she has frequent and heavy migraines. Sometimes people have to do the same because of something to do with their kids. Everyone is usually fully transparent about it and it really helps create an atmosphere of openness and trust.

TL;DR: Err on the side of caution, yes. But do inform yourself of your legal rights in your country, and the mechanisms in such situations. Suss out the company's approaches to various issues and know their policies. Sometimes, when the outside conditions are in your favor, being transparent about your situation can be the better choice.

Hey here is your friendly reminder to not tell your nice boss stuff.

I’m at the executive management level for my very small company and I have 4 people who report directly to me. I am a nice boss. I’m friendly with my employees, I treat them like professional adults, I actively try to create a positive work environment, and I mentor them and make sure they’re advancing in their careers. I do my best to shield them from the rest of management doing stupid shit. My employees like working for me.

The other day one of my employees came to ask if she could change her hours on Mondays. I said yes immediately because it’s helpful for me to know when she’s here and when she’s not, but as long as she gets her work done I don’t care when and where she does it. She then proceeded to tell me that it was so she could attend therapy and like … I will never use this information but … as a general rule don’t fucking do that.

Do not tell your employer shit about your mental or physical health except for the bare minimum needed to request a reasonable accommodation. Even your nice boss can fire you, even your nice boss can unfairly change your working conditions, and even your nice boss at some point is probably going to face pressure from their superiors.

I’m not saying don’t trust your boss with anything ever. I’m just saying that anytime you are in the workplace you need to keep your private information private. You can still have a good relationship with your boss. Your workplace can still be pleasant. But if it ever feels like disclosing private information is required in order to have a good relationship with your boss, please see that as a red flag.

[ginnsbaker]

All Of Your Pieces (1 - Honey! I shrunk the kids! 18+)

Summary: Wanda accidentally shrinks your kids while trying out a spell that would benefit both of you in the bedroom; Jimmy and Darcy attempt to find out more about the Hex, particularly when they discover a remarkable detail about you. Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader Chapter word count: 3k+ | Tags: Smut, Campy Humor, Language

A/N: I've been working on this series since late August and have finally figured out what to do with it, enough to share it with you all. The story will be told in three parts: Westview (The Missing Town), Pre-Westview, and Post-Westview. This follows some events in WandaVision, but it's very canon-divergent. It's going to be different from my other works (I've never written humor before and I'm quite insecure about that), as this one is very plot-driven but at the same time, still very much Wanda x Reader (especially in parts 2 and 3). Updates will be every Wednesday. Chapters will be 2.5–3.5k words long, except for the ending chapters of each part, which are twice as long. So, without further ado… More author's notes here.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

-

“Honey! I shrunk the kids!” 

Wanda bursts into the basement, apron billowing out like a cape. Except, there's no draft down here; that apron shouldn't be moving like that at all. But then again, considering your wife’s claim, maybe the laws of physics are taking a day off.

You glance up from the miniature model home you’re meticulously working on, unsure if you heard her right. Did she really just say that? 

“You what?”

Wanda, flushed and a little breathless, skids to a stop in front of you. “Okay, so I was experimenting with a new spell, one that was supposed to…” She bites her lip, hesitating, her face glowing a deeper shade of red. “...it was supposed to do something else, but it backfired and... well, it’s not important right now!”

“Jesus, Wanda.”

Your poor, beautiful, occasionally clumsy wife stands there, teetering between a freak-out and a fit of giggles. 

“It was an accident! I didn't mean to!” Wanda shrieks, causing the room to tremble from her panic.

Wanda's powers have always been a wildcard. You can child-proof the entire house in a day, but that definitely doesn't cover child-proofing Wanda herself—especially not when your kids are involved. Luckily, the boys have inherited some special abilities of their own, which leaves you as the sole non-superpowered member of the household. With that in mind, you know better than to panic. Getting worked up alongside her would only escalate things, and you’re not exactly keen on being shrunk next.

“Okay…where are they now?” you ask as calmly as you can manage.

Wanda takes a deep breath and leads you to the living room. You trail her in silence, clutching at composure. It can’t be that bad, right? The distant sound of playful music trickling through the house almost makes it seem like everything’s fine. You hadn’t really noticed it before, but now that you think about it, it’s like your brain has learned to associate that kind of tune with situations that somehow always end in collective sighs of relief.

Sighs, giggles, and applause—sounds that don't belong to Wanda or the boys.

Where are they coming from?

Before your mind can completely sink into the oddities of your life here in Westview, Wanda halts in the middle of the living room. Your eyes dart around, searching for Billy and Tommy, but they’re nowhere to be seen.

“Where?”

“Right there,” Wanda points toward the coffee table, her finger trembling slightly.

You squint in the direction she’s pointing. Next to the TV remote, two tiny figures wave up at you—your sons, each about the size of your thumb.

“Oh my god, they’re tiny!” you gasp, covering your mouth with your hand. You expected them to be at least half their normal size—a size they might grow out of eventually.

“Shhhh, Y/N!” Wanda hisses, pressing her index finger to her lips. “The neighbors might hear you.”

Neighbors. Which usually means just Agnes from next door. There’s literally several meters of spaces between your houses, but somehow, she always manages to hear things she shouldn’t and pries like she’s in some perfectly timed routine.

Wanda kneels by the coffee table, her eyes soft. “I told them to stay right there until we sorted this out.”

The twins start making noises, sounding like tiny bells, though still hard to make out. You pull out a magnifying glass from your back pocket—has that been there the whole time?—making sure your sons are okay. As soon as the lenses zoom in on their faces, you're relieved to see them laughing uproariously, seemingly unbothered by their predicament.

“They seem... happy?” you say, lowering the magnifying glass.

“They think it's hilarious,” Wanda grumbles, her lips curling into a pout.

“So,” you sigh, pushing yourself to your feet. “Any ideas on how to fix this?”  You're tempted to suggest just letting it run its course, waiting for the spell to fizzle out, but you know Wanda wouldn’t go for that. She's fiercely protective of the twins, and you can't blame her—it’s all her handiwork, after all.

Then you hear it—a hiccup. Another follows, and then another, each one a little louder than the last.

Before you know it, Wanda's a sobbing mess.

You cup her face in your hands. “Hey, hey...it’s okay,” you murmur, gently brushing away a tear with your thumb.

Wanda’s breath hitches as she looks at you, her eyes brimming with worry. “What if I can’t fix it?”

“We will,” you promise, looking into her eyes.

A collective ‘awww’ rings in your ears, pulling you out of the moment. What the hell—where did that come from? You've had this creepy feeling of being watched lately, and it's only getting worse.

Wanda brings you back to focus when she nuzzles into your palm. “Oh, Y/N, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You give her a small, lopsided grin and plant a kiss on her forehead. “Good thing you’ll never have to find out.” Something passes over her eyes as soon as you say it, but it vanishes in a split-second, replaced by a moment of inspiration.

“Wait,” she bursts out, stepping away from your embrace. “I think I have an idea.”

She heads straight for the fridge, and you trail after her, holding your breath.

“I’ve been trying to reverse it, but my magic isn’t cooperating. It’s like... it’s tangled,” Wanda mutters, yanking things out of the fridge.

You scowl, arms crossed, watching her. “Tangled? What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. The more I try to fix it, the worse it gets. Like it has a life of its own,” she says. she says. After a few more seconds of rummaging, Wanda finally grabs a tetra pack of chocolate milk—the twins' favorite.

“I’m hoping this will do the trick,” she says, giving the carton a shake.

You cock your head, clueless on what’s going on. “Honey, what’s going on?”

Wanda mumbles, barely glancing up as she vigorously shakes the carton. “Just doing what it says—’Shake well before serving.’”

You roll your eyes, muttering, “This woman...”. Then louder, you ask, “I mean, what’s the chocolate got to do with our tiny children?”

Wanda stops mid-shake, a look of realization dawning on her face. “Oh, right,” she slaps her forehead. “You can’t read minds. I keep forgetting,” she chuckles, setting down the carton with a sheepish grin.

There it is again—a chorus of laughter from somewhere far off. Your mouth twitches at the sound—it’s really starting to get on your nerves. You make a mental note to bring it up with Wanda later.

Wanda gathers herself, then pitches her plan. “Instead of directly casting a spell on the twins, I think it’s safer to enchant this chocolate milk.” She picks up the carton again, giving it a final shake. “The idea is to infuse the milk with a spell that will gradually restore them to their normal sizes.”

You nod, beginning to understand what she’s trying to do. “Sounds less risky than zapping them with more magic head on.”

“Exactly,” she agrees, her eyes lighting up with excitement. You’d swear she’s getting a kick out of this macabre parenting hack—kids and all. The background tune keeps playing, like a promise that the universe won’t let things turn to shit. You’re wondering if maybe Wanda hears it too.

“This way, the magic is diluted and can adjust more naturally with their systems. It’s like... sneaking the cure into their bodies,” she says, snapping her fingers, red swirls of magic emanating from them to the carton of milk.

“I'm so proud of you, baby,” you say, leaning in for a quick kiss which she happily accepts. “For finding a fix, I mean. The whole shrinking our kids thing? Still not great.”

–

“What kind of spell do you think Wanda was going for?” Darcy asks, her eyes fixed on the credits rolling across the screen before it fades to black. She’s really gotten into Wanda’s little show, a welcome distraction from the freezing depths of hell that is New Jersey in November. Though exciting things are finally happening to her, the timing couldn't be worse. 

“No clue,” Jimmy mutters, his attention glued to the laptop in front of him. It’s been two days since Quantico sent him to look into the bizarre case of a missing town—a phenomenon almost unheard of in the 21st century. Upon arriving, they discovered that the town in question, Westview, was enveloped by some sort of anomaly—or a Hex, as Darcy has started calling it, referring to the hexagonal shape of the barrier encasing the town. 

Around the same time as the discovery, S.W.O.R.D. agent Monica Rambeau was quite literally sucked into the anomaly by accident. The only breakthrough has been Darcy Lewis’ detection of the signals, providing them with a window into the mysterious shroud, even helping them identify some of the show's characters as actual residents of the town.

But overall, they're still desperately trying to piece together why this is happening and how to stop it.

Darcy peeks over at the data on Jimmy’s screen. “Find anything new?”

Jimmy sighs in frustration. “No, not really. Everything we dig up just adds more questions instead of answers.”

“Like what, for instance?”

Instead of answering directly, he slides a thick file across the table toward her. “See for yourself.”

Darcy catches the file and starts flipping through it. Murmuring, she says, “So, Google finally returned search results?” The stack of papers is downright daunting. Jimmy’s right—any mountain of information would raise more questions than answers.

“No, not Google,” Jimmy corrects her. “Stark's highly confidential database did. The woman Wanda's married to in Westview? She’s not in any public records. Turns out her records were wiped clean two years ago.”

Darcy looks up, puzzled. “Why would Stark's company have this?”

“Just read, Darcy. It’s all in there,” he says, turning his full attention back to his research.

Darcy frowns slightly and begins scanning through the pages more attentively. It takes her a few minutes to piece together the information she's reading, with her mind going in different directions and still burning with curiosity about the spell Wanda botched.

Finally, she reads aloud, somewhat incredulously, “Subject was recognized as S.H.I.E.L.D.'s youngest marksmanship prodigy prior to recruitment by Stark Industries following the dissolution of S.H.I.E.L.D.. Subsequently provided tactical support on multiple classified operations in conjunction with the Avengers initiative.”

She sets the file down thoughtfully. “Kinda reminds me a bit of Romanoff or Barton. Total badass. I hadn’t pegged Maximoff for that crowd.”

“What crowd did you have Wanda filed under?” Jimmy asks, just out of curiosity.

Darcy’s gaze drifts off, a dreamy smirk on her lips. “Honestly? I always pictured her—or anyone for that matter—swooning over someone more…mythical hammer than tactical espionage.”

Jimmy snorts to himself at Darcy's whimsical take and says, “Of course, you’d say that. Thor's everyone's type.”

“He’s yours too?”

“Yeah, why not,” Jimmy shrugs, his tone more reluctant than sarcastic, which only amuses Darcy more.

“So,” Darcy begins, “Wanda's settled down in New Jersey, married to a woman? I mean, good for her. They all deserve a break. Maybe even an early retirement.”

Jimmy lets out a long, tired sigh, like he's just about done with everything. Darcy notices and raises an eyebrow. “What now?”

He barely glances up. “Like I said, everything’s in there. Just keep reading.”

Darcy groans but goes back to the file, flipping through the pages again. She’s about to make a snarky comment when something catches her attention—something that has her eyes practically popping out of their sockets.

“It… it says here Y/N’s dead.”

“That’s right,” Jimmy responds without missing a beat.

“Not snapped five years ago. Dead-dead.”

“Yep.”

Darcy stares at the page, disbelief all over her face. “That can’t be right, can it?”

Jimmy finally swivels his chair to face her, looking as tired as he sounds. “That’s what I’ve been trying to wrap my head around for hours. If aliens and superheroes are real, maybe bringing someone back from the dead to star in a sitcom isn’t so far-fetched, right?”

–

You carefully pull the blankets up over Billy, smoothing his hair and whispering a soft good night. Tommy’s already half-asleep, but you make sure to tuck him in just as snugly, brushing a kiss on his forehead. Wanda stands in the doorway, watching you, her heart swelling in her chest. You were so clueless when she first had the twins, but now, being a mother just seems to come naturally to you. 

And you pulled it off in a week, while the twins stretched into six-year-olds just as fast.

“Honey,” you call softly, noticing the way she’s lost in thought. “Aren’t you going to say good night to our boys?”

Wanda steps into the room, giving each of the boys their good night kiss. You pucker your lips, silently asking for your turn, and she playfully swats your arm, whispering, “Not here, baby.”

You pout, giving her your best puppy-dog eyes, which only makes her smile. Without warning, you grab her hand and hurriedly pull her out of the boys' room, making a beeline for your bedroom. Wanda’s laughter fills the hallway, and just as you reach the door, you suddenly sweep her off the ground, lifting her into your arms.

Wanda lets out a shriek, her laughter infectious, and you can’t help but grin, even as you let her thump onto the mattress—a sloppy, graceless drop. You follow her onto the bed, rolling onto your stomach to peer down at her, still sporting that stupid smile.

“So, about that kiss you owe me,” you whisper, hovering closer, teasing her with your proximity.

Wanda nods distractedly. “I think I can manage that,” she murmurs, and then her lips are on yours.

It starts simple and sweet. Though soon, her tongue is gently nudging your lips apart, and it quickly becomes anything but. Her hands slip down to your back, pulling you close until her heartbeat hammering against yours. You break away, lips trailing down to her neck, exploring every dip and hollow, your tongue darting out to taste her skin. When you hit that spot just behind her ear, the one that always drives her wild, she gasps.

“Don't start something you can’t finish,” she warns, her voice already thick with want.

“Who says I won't?” you shoot back with a wolfish grin.

You both fall into a familiar routine, as easy to slip into as the back of your hand. There’s no hurry, just the two of you moving languidly—whispering against skin, giggles turning into sighs and breathy moans. Sometimes, being with Wanda feels like a desperate need, as if not having her completely would literally be the end of you. But it’s moments like these that are your favorite—the ones where you’re barely even trying, yet she still comes apart at your touch, at the mere feeling of your fingers on her. 

Eventually, you both settle down, a contented sigh escaping you as you curl up against Wanda, your skin slightly damp with the effort of your love. You like this, being the little spoon, hiding your face in her neck like you’re hiding from the world, though you vaguely recall a time when it was usually her in your arms. 

As you’re staggering on the edge of sleep, Wanda’s fingers gently massage your scalp, her lips dropping soft, pensive kisses on your forehead. You're almost out, but one last question keeps you from drifting off entirely.

“Wanda, that spell earlier that shrunk the boys—what was that about?” you mumble, your words slurring into the dream nipping at your consciousness.

Wanda’s laughter rumbles through her chest, nudging you slightly from your drowsy state.

“Come on, tell me,” you coax, giving her side a playful pinch to keep her talking.

“It’s embarrassing,” she mumbles, her face turning a delightful shade of pink again that spreads down her neck and chest. Her coy reaction wakes you up some more. As a twisted kind of payback, you run your tongue rough over her nipple, snatching a sharp gasp from her. Moving up, you hold her flushed cheek, making sure she’s looking right at you. Your thigh presses between hers, and it doesn’t take long before she’s wet and ready again.

“Are you going to tell me, or do you plan on sleeping with a wet pussy tonight?” you whisper, brushing your lips against the corner of her mouth. Under different circumstances, Wanda would scold you for your crudeness, but right now, she's too worked up to care. Your dirty mouth has always been one of the most irritating yet irresistible things about you. Even having kids hasn’t changed that.

“I was trying to... enchant your...” she starts, but then your hand tightens on her butt, spurring her subtle grinding movements. By this time, she’s practically dripping onto the sheets, her thoughts scattering as the tightening sensation below her stomach builds.

“My what?” you push, smirking as you watch her fumble for words. You hoist her leg, resting it on your shoulder, laying her wide open. You slide two fingers inside her, fucking her slowly while your thumb brutally circles her clit. As she hesitates to answer, you hook in another finger, drawing a sharp cry of pleasure from Wanda. Your gaze stays locked on your wife, a part of you as surprised as she might be at your boldness tonight.

All day, she’s haunted every corner of your mind, fantasizing about stealing a quick, desperate moment while the twins are asleep or at Agnes’s. But there’s been something—an unnameable restraint—holding you back from indulging those wicked impulses. It isn’t until the boys are asleep, the house quiet, that those invisible chains start to loosen. That’s when you can finally allow yourself to desire Wanda the way you really want to. The way you’ve always been meant to.

“Your... clit,” Wanda finally spits out, seeing you've drifted off, stuck in your head. “I thought I could make it... well, longer. Like a...” She chokes on the words, too embarrassed to finish.

“Like a cock?” you throw out crudely, looking down at her impishly.

Wanda nods, mortified but also a little defiant. “Wanted you to fuck me with it,” she mumbles, finding her backbone now that the secret's in the open.

“I am fucking you,” you whisper hotly right into her ear. “But if you want it like that, all you have to do is say the word.”

Wanda clenches around you at the thought of doing it like that in the near future, her breath hitching. “Please,” she mewls, the word dripping with need. 

“Good girl,” you growl, cranking up the pace as you drive your fingers harder inside her, making her gasp and arch towards you. “You can come.”

With a choked whimper, Wanda surrenders, her body seizing as her orgasm washes over her. She soaks your wrist, the clear fluid trickling down onto the sheets, but you don't stop, pushing through every pulse of her release until she's quaking, utterly wrecked beneath you. You patiently wait until her spasms subside before slowly pulling your fingers away.

Wanda's hand shoots out, stopping your movements. “Stay,” she implores, sounding like she's on the verge of tears. You're momentarily startled by her reaction, concerned something might be wrong. Swiftly, you slide your fingers back where they belong, nestled deep inside her.

“Okay, baby, I’m not going anywhere,” you murmur, pushing back the damp strands of hair sticking to her forehead with your free hand. Exhaustion begins to cloud your senses as you sink down beside Wanda, still keeping your hand where she wants it. 

“I'm sorry for needing you so much,” Wanda murmurs, her voice shaky with tears you can't see, your cheek pressed against the pillow beside hers.

“Don't be,” you mumble, half-lost to sleep as she clings to you more tightly. “I’m here.”

“You love me,” she says, a hint of wonder, of fear.

You nod, lips brushing the nape of her neck. “And you love me,” you murmur back, your eyes slipping shut. “I'm not going anywhere, Wanda.”

“For now,” she whispers to herself, once your breathing evens out in sleep.

Tears betray her then, and she clamps a hand over her mouth to keep quiet. But just before her sobs fully break free, she flicks a finger, a thin red wisp of magic ensuring you stay deep in sleep.

With you unaware, Wanda surrenders to her grief.

[scarlethexelove]

Do You Hate Me

Pairing: Drummer!Kate Bishop x Fan!Reader

Word Count: 2335

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/comfort, Smut, Daddy kink, P in V, Cum strap, StoneTop!Kate, PleasureDom!Kate, Hints to breeding, Um not sure there is much more.

Pt 1

A/n: I must always give thanks for the help from @wandamaximoffsbadgirl on writing this one. This turned from idea's about Drummer!Kate into an impromptu fic. It was done before Kinktober and just needed edited up and finished. So that is what I did. Sorry that I didn't get the last fic of Kinktober done I just couldn't bring myself to write the last one cause I didn't really know what to do with it. Maybe one day but I'm not to sure. So to make up for it here is more Drummer!Kate.

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN

Your fingers slowly trail down Kate’s body. You want to be able to touch your girlfriend, giving her the same pleasure that she gives you. You’re shocked when her hands grab your wrist and stop you. Her grip is tight, tighter than she has ever held you. “Katie that hurts.” 

Kate quickly lets your hands go. “I’m sorry baby I didn’t mean to. Just please don’t touch me like that.” Her tone is harsh. She is acting in a way that you have never seen her before. 

“Kate why can’t I-” Kate cuts you off.

“I said don’t.” It’s like you can see an internal battle going on within Kate. Her eyes showed a different emotion than her expression. “Just don’t touch me please.”

You’re so confused and hurt by your girlfriend's outburst. “Fine!” Your words are louder than you had intended them to be but you don’t really care. You get up and walk out of the room. You don’t know where you are going but you just put on your shoes and walk out the door. 

It’s only a few minutes later before Kate gets up and goes looking for you knowing that she needs to explain to you why she stopped you. But panic takes over when she realizes you're not there anymore. Your shoes and keys are gone from beside the door. She quickly throws on her boots and runs out the door. 

It’s dark out and the air is damp as you walk along the eerily quiet streets. You don’t know how you walk but the hurt doesn’t seem to leave you. You never thought you were good enough for Kate and this just solidifies your spiraling thoughts. That you will never be good enough for her. 

Your face scrunches when you feel cold water drop down on your face. You look up as the sky fills with little droplets of water. The rain starts to fall down steadily making you let out a groan. You already feel terrible and now this. You accept your fate as you sit down on the bench a few steps behind you. Letting the cold rain soak into your skin as your fight with Kate swirls in your mind. You dropped everything to be with Kate and now she doesn’t want you. You’re alone and cold.

Kate begins to panic more when the rain begins to fall. The storm clouds above let's all the held water fall down. She doesn’t know where you went and now it’s raining. All she wants is for you to be back in her arms, to explain everything. She wants you to understand just how much she loves you and that will never change in her eyes. So she runs looking wherever she can to find you. How could you have gone so far in so little time. 

You don’t know how long you sit there for, until you hear your name being called while Kate is running up to you. She pulls you up and hugs you tightly. She pulls you back a little to look you over. “I was so worried.” Kate has tears in her eyes. 

“What does it matter, Kathrine.” It stung when you used her full name. 

“Oh Y/n/n, come on, don't be like that, please. Just come back with me, we can have a bath together and I'll explain myself.” Kate tries and you want to say no but she's giving puppy eyes.

Kate tries to hold your hand, but you pull it back and cross your arms. You follow behind her, still hurt and salty. You're both dripping wet when you both get inside. 

Kate starts the bath and goes to help you undress. “I can do it myself.” You snap. Kate pulls back, mumbling out an okay before turning away to undress herself. When you're done pulling off your wet clothes, you step into the warm bath. Sinking into it, you let out a moan as the warmth elopes you. Kate stands there bouncing on the balls of her feet unsure now if she should join you.  

“Are you just gonna stand there?” You ask feeling awkward now that Kate was second guessing if she should join you. She cautiously steps into the bath in front of you. Sinking down and sitting in front of you. 

Kate looks down and plays with her fingers. “I'm sorry.” She mumbles. You've never seen her so reserved which makes you feel bad for being so mad. 

You chew on your lip, taking in a deep breath. “I just... did I do something wrong? Do...do you not want me, Kate? I just...I wanna make you feel just as good as you make me feel.”

Kate reaches out, brushing your tears away. “Baby, it absolutely is not that. You do make me feel good, better than I've ever felt.” Kate cups your cheek, a soft smile on her face.

You look into her eyes, tears still shining. “Then why?” 

Kate takes a deep breath trying to gather her thoughts. “Princess I get off just from watching you. I don't need it and I don't particularly like it either. It's nothing to do with you. I am more than satisfied.” 

You look at her mulling over her words. “S-so you're um what's it called.”

Kate smiles. “Stone top. Yes.” 

“Ohhhhh.” You think for a moment, brow furrowing. “S-so you don't like hate me? Or think I'm disgusting? Or–” Kate cuts you off, pulling you into a deep kiss. You whimper into it before melting into her. 

“I think you are the most amazing girl in the whole world.” Kate beatles against your lips. 

You lean your body into hers. “I don't deserve you.” You mumble. 

“Don't ever say that princess. I don't know what I would do without you. The day I saw you my life changed for the better.” You want to touch her, but you hesitate. Your hands hovering, almost ghosting over her skin. “Go ahead, princess.” Your head shoots up, eyes meeting hers.

You lean more into her and lay your head on her chest as you let yourself lazily draw patterns on her chest, letting your fingers drift down slowly. 

Kate let's out a soft noise. Softer than you've ever heard out of your girlfriend. You lay your head on her chest, taking a deep breathing, letting your hand fall, brushing past her nipple. You feel as her breath quickens slightly at the sensation. You trace your fingers around her nipple waiting to see if she stops you. She lets out a shuttered breath. You smile, letting your thumb brush across her now hardened nipple

“Is this ok baby?” You ask, actually stopping what you're doing. She lets out a soft moan. You look up at her and you pull her down to kiss her. You still tease her nipple as you swallow her whimpers. You keep teasing, seeing how far you can push her as you roll her pebbled nipple between your fingers. She finally grabs your wrist, pulling both behind your back. 

“You're playing a dangerous game, princess.” Kate husks against the shell of your ear. 

You gasp. “What are you going to do Daddy? Hmmm, punish me.” You tease her knowing that you hadn't actually done anything to warrant one but just want to press her buttons a little. 

Kate is quick to stand lifting you up with her. Not caring about leaving a wet trail behind you both. 

“I'm not going to punish you princess but I'm going to make sure you can't walk tomorrow.” 

Shivering at her words.You cling tight to her. “Oh will you Daddy?” You try to sound tough, but you know that she knows. 

Kate tosses you on the bed, making you squeak before crawling to hover over you. “Oh princess, I'm going to use my biggest strap. You know that new one special one we just got. I'm going to slit that pretty little pussy open.” She growls and kisses you harshly. 

You feel your body heat up at the mention of the new strap. A thick purple one that was cum filled. A whimper leaving you. “Please Daddy I've been wanting to get to use it!' You started begging already forgetting about what happened earlier.

Kate chuckles at your neediness. “Look at you begging Daddy to fuck you. You want me to stretch that pretty little pussy around my big strap hmm.” 

You whine at the thought. “Please.” Kate leans down, giving you a kiss before leaving to go grab the strap. Coming out, and the moment you see her, you clench around nothing. “Fuck...Daddy…” She smirks as she gets closer to you. 

“Tell Daddy exactly what you want, Princess.” Kate is cocky knowing she has you right where she wants you. 

You squirm as you look at the large size. “Wa-want Daddy to fuck me.” 

Kate gives you a faux pout. “Princess, you need to tell me how. You want Daddy to shove that pretty face into the pillows as I fuck you from behind.” You clench at the thought and nod. “Words princess.” She reminds you. 

A whine coming out of your throat. “Please Daddy want you to fuck me from behind and push me into the pillows. Want to scream so loud for you the pillows don't muffle it. Please.” You see her eyes dilate at your words. Light blues become dark like a storm. 

You watch as Kate’s calm demeanor turns to feral. “Hands and knees princess.” She growls out. You barely have time to get into the position before Kate is behind you. “Fuck I can't wait to ruin you.” Her hands caress your hips. You instantly want to fall apart for her. Do exactly as she asks. Your pleasure is hers and hers is yours. You feel her slowly push through your folds, getting herself all slicked up before you feel the tip at your entrance. You shiver and whimper. 

“Please Daddy...please…” Kate slowly pushes her hips forward. Your walls stretch to accommodate her large size. Though the stretch is slightly painful, it feels so good. Your arms are already wobbly the further she pushes in. You're already panting from it all. Already so overwhelming. Her hand goes on the back of your head, grabbing your hair as she starts thrusting, setting a brutal pace that has your head spinning. 

“Fuck you always feel so good taking my cock like a good little slut. You're Daddy's slut, aren't you?” Kate grunts with every thrust of her hips. 

You moan loudly as words fail you. Your brain instantly turning to mush as she fucks you.  

When you don't answer Kate stops. She wraps her hand around your throat and pulls you back against her chest and whispers in your ear. “Daddy asked you a question princess. Are you Daddy's slut?” You whimper. 

“Mmm I-I Da-Daddy's little sl-slut.” Kate lets go of your neck and pushes your face down into the pillow. 

“Good girl.” Kate grunts as she picks the pace back up.  

You moan loudly, what else are you supposed to do because words aren't an option. “Ah...ah...ah…” It's the only thing coming out, but you're practically screaming as she hits your spot just right.

Kate is panting above you as your walls suck her in. She reaches down between your legs, finding your clit and circling her fingers around. You can't help the scream that escapes your lips. Your body is trembling under her as you're so close to falling over the edge.

“Ah...Daddy...fuck fuck please...I'm gonna...gonna cum!” You hear the chuckle the rumbles out of her. 

“You want to cum all over Daddy's cock? Hm?” Kate asks and suddenly you're shy again. Just like always though Kate secretly hoped you'd never stop being like this with her. 

“Please Daddy let me cum on your cock.” Kate lets out a satisfied hum before pulling you up against her and whispering in your ear. 

“Do you want Daddy to fill you up princess?” Kate’s thrusts are still hitting you perfectly deep inside that your legs are trembling. You're so close to falling over the edge. 

You whine and nod so desperately. “Pl-please daddy want your cum.” It comes out as a whimper, but your words satisfy the drummer. 

“Cum on my cock princess, Daddy's going to fill you nice and full.” That's all it takes as your eyes roll back in your head and you cum harder than you ever have in your life. Your walls desperately sucking Kate’s cock further in as she continues to pound into you. 

As you ride out your high, Kate's powerful thrusts down slow as she finally releases the cum deep inside of you. The added feeling of being filled causes another smaller orgasm to rip through you. “A-Ah fuck Daddy.” Your moans are loud, bouncing off the walls. 

You think Kate will slow down now that she has filled you up but she doesn’t. You let out a small whine and Kate shushes you softly. “Daddy hasn’t cum yet and Daddy promised you princess that you won’t be walking when I’m through with you.” She nibbles on your ear causing you to gasp. “I’m going to keep filling this pretty little pussy till you're dripping with my sweet sweet cum.”

By the end of the night you have lost count on how many times that you have cum and Kate has even lost count of how many times she has. Your bodies now in a tangled mess of limbs as your body lays on top of your girlfriends. Kate insists that the strap stays buried deep inside you. A promise to wake you up close to another orgasm. You’re slowly drifting off to sleep when you feel lips pressed to your head and a whispered I love you from Kate. You’re so exhausted that you slur out an unfinished I love you to Kate as sleep takes over.

[southerngothicchic]

we're too young to be lonely (part one)

King!Steve Harrington x reader (18+)

This is a rewrite of a fic I wrote last year that I felt could be improved upon 💖

The King of Hawkins High had made a habit of climbing through your bedroom window every Friday night. His visits started out innocent enough, with you both commiserating about the past week of school and maybe sharing a kiss or two.

As weeks went on, and as both of your crushes grew, sweet kisses turned into steamy makeouts. He would murmur how pretty you were into your neck as he tried not to leave any hickies, though he desperately wanted to.

He wanted everyone to know you were his, but wasn't sure if you wanted to belong to him, outside of your bedroom.

It was a typical Friday night, with you laying in bed, waiting for Steve. The radio hums lowly while the dim light from your bedside lamp illuminates the room. You keep glancing up from the latest issue of Seventeen every few minutes to check the digital display of the clock on your nightstand. He's usually here by now, you think, as you're beginning to think he's not going to show.

If something changed he would've let you know, right? A horrible thought then enters your mind making you wonder if he's lost interest in you and found someone else to spend the night with. You glance at the window again before shaking your head.

After all the nights you spent together, you knew he wouldn't do that to you. At this point, you knew him better than his 'best friends' or anyone else at school did. He was different when he was with you, so sweet and attentive, you almost forgot about his famous persona.

As you wrack your brain for answers, you hear a familiar tapping on your window. You look over and see his silhouette crouching outside the glass.

With a relieved smile, you get up and cross the short distance to let him in.

He greets you with a smile and a soft, "Hi," before he climbs into your room. You feel his arms around your waist as you quietly close the window. You turn, in his arms, to face him, still with a smile on your lips.

"I was starting to think you stood me up," you say, now with a slight pout.

"I'm sorry," he apologizes, nuzzling his nose against yours. "My parents came home early so I had to wait til they went to bed to sneak out."

"Oh," you breathe, as he ghosts his lips over yours.

"Did you really think I'd miss a chance to see my best girl?"

You sigh his name, already under his spell in record time.

"I missed you," he whispers before finally kissing you.

You eagerly kiss him back, wanting to make up for all the lost time spent not kissing the cutest boy you'd ever seen.

"I missed you, too," you reply, breathless with your fingers gripping the sleeves of his sweatshirt.

"I can tell," he softly laughs. "Maybe we should extend these visits to more than just one night."

You glance up at him, with a hopeful shimmer in your eyes, that makes him weak.

"You really like me that much?" You ask, earning another soft laugh from him.

"I wouldn't keep coming back if I didn't," he replies, bringing his hand up to cup your cheek. "You're, like, the only real friend I have."

"Is that how you see me, just as a friend?"

His eyes widen in panic as he stumbles through his reply: "No, I mean, at first, yeah, but not now. I like you more than that."

His thumb tenderly brushes your cheek as a goofy smile forms on your lips.

"So you like me like me, then?"

"I thought it was obvious, but yeah, I do," he also smiles, as he leans in to kiss you again.

You sigh his name against his lips as he guides you towards your bed. He smoothly slips off his Nike's before laying you back onto your sheets, all without breaking the kiss. His denim clad thighs press against your bare legs, making you feel extra vulnerable. He subtly spreads your legs with his knee, so he can nestle his hips between them. You gasp into a kiss when he grinds teasingly.

"I guess I don't have to ask if you liked that..." he pants, between kisses. "You wanna feel more of me?"

You nod, while whimpering a soft, "Yes."

"Okay, honey," he smiles, gently taking your hand and placing it between your bodies, against his growing bulge.

"Want you to feel what you do to me..." he breathes, as he nips at the tender skin under your jaw.

You palm him through his jeans before squeezing slightly. He moans into your neck as his hips chase your touch.

Moments like these still feel so surreal to you. Having Steve Harrington in your room was one thing, but touching him like this was something else entirely. Feeling him through denim wasn't enough, you wanted more.

You pull him into another kiss while your hand moves to unbutton his jeans. You feel him shudder when your fingertips graze his skin. You tease him through his briefs at first, before slipping your hand under the waistband. He whines against your lips as he feels your fingers wrap around him.

"Mmm, fuck..." he breathes, while you slowly stroke him. "I've dreamt about this."

"Have you?" You ask, between kisses.

"Yeah, been wanting you to touch me like this," he whispers, desperately trying to keep his voice down. "Its all I can think about most days."

You smile into his kiss, feeling truly desirable for the first time in your life.

"You're all I think about most days," you quietly reveal before kissing him again, muffling another moan.

He pulls away, and sighs your name, already looking completely wrecked.

"If you keep on, I'm gonna-" he warns, before your hand stills. "And I don't want to yet, not like this."

"What are you...?"

"I wanna go all the way with you," he whispers, gazing into your eyes.

"Steve..." you breathe, his name the easiest thing for your mind to latch onto, as his admission has you reeling.

"Only if you want to," he adds. "I won't make you do anything you don't wanna do."

You notice how he's looking at you, with such sincerity and adoration, it's almost overwhelming.

"I want to," you softly reply, holding his gaze.

He smiles. "Yeah?"

You nod. "Just... not here, not with my parents down the hall..."

"You could always come over to my house," he offers, leaning in close. "My parents should be going out of town again soon and we'd have the place to ourselves."

"I actually have a better idea," you reply, with a smile. "I just remembered mine are going to a dinner party tomorrow night and will most likely be gone for most of the night."

"That is much better," he agrees, his lips brushing yours. "We can have our first, proper date then."

He feels you smile against his lips before you whisper, "Yeah, we can."

He pulls away, for a moment, so he can admire the sight below him.

"I really like this," he compliments, lightly dragging his finger along the collar of your silky pajama top.

"I was hoping you would," you quietly reply, as you watch his eyes darkening.

"Is it okay if I...?" He then asks, his fingers already gripping the top button.

Your eyes meet his as you nod. "I want you to feel more of me, too."

He leans forward again, pressing his lips to yours, as his skilled fingers unbutton your top. The lightest scratch of his nails against your stomach makes you shiver. He pulls away slightly to marvel at you again, and suddenly you feel too exposed. The look on his face instantly reassures you, as it's one of awe.

"You're so fuckin' gorgeous," he laments, leaning in close.

He nuzzles his nose along your jaw, before trailing kisses down your neck. You pull your hand from his jeans and curl it into his hair as he kisses his way to your collarbone. Soft moans of his name fall from your lips as he places wet kisses against your breast. His mouth has your back arching into him, as his teeth barely scrape your nipple. He flicks his tongue over it and you have to keep yourself from screaming.

He's presses himself against you, unable to keep from grinding, as you feel how hard and big he is.

"Fuck, I can't wait til tomorrow night..." he pants, words almost muffled by your skin. "...When I can kiss you like this while I'm buried deep inside you."

You whimper his name and he thinks it's his new favorite sound.

"You still want that too, right?" He asks, glancing up at you, his amber eyes alight with desire.

You nod, as your pretty, pink lips part with a gasp. He tries to hide his smirk before raising his head so he can kiss you again.

The way he kisses you is so deep and romantic, its unlike anything you've ever felt before. Your thoughts melt into a dreamy haze, as the only constants are how you feel about him and how he's making you feel. It's a moment seemingly frozen in time that you never want to leave.

"Can I feel more of you?" He breathily asks, with his hand hovering over the waistband of your matching silky shorts.

You hesitate, trying to catch your breath as you gaze up at him. Your hand grips his sleeve as you struggle to answer him.

"It's okay if it's too much. We don't have to -" He comforts before you interrupt him.

"I want you to touch me. I've dreamed about this, too," you admit, as a familiar heat rises to your cheeks.

"I want you to tell me about all the filthy dreams you've had about me," he smiles, as his fingertips lightly glide across your stomach.

"I might, someday," you smile, in return, pulling him into another kiss.

You feel him smiling against your lips before deepening the kiss.

He slips his hand into your shorts, and presses the pads of his fingers against the thin cotton of your panties. He softly moans when he feels how wet you are.

"You must really like me," he whispers, as he teases you with his finger.

"I do," you breathe.

"Want me to make you feel good?" He asks, pressing harder.

"Y-Yes, Steve, please..." You almost don't recognize your own voice as you've never heard it sound so desperate.

"Fuck, I'll do anything for you, honey," he replies, his own voice ragged as he slips his hand into your panties.

He slowly eases his finger inside you while his mouth hovers over yours. He whimpers over how tight you are as he begins to pump it in and out. Your eyes are already rolling back at how different and good he feels compared to you.

"Look at me, honey," he quietly commands, nudging the tip of your nose with his. "Want you to keep your eyes on me when we're like this."

You nod, obediently, as your hands claw at his sweatshirt again. His kisses are a little rougher as he adds another finger. He's already losing himself in you, in wanting to make you feel so good, you'll never want anyone else.

You body trembles underneath him, as you fight to kiss him back with the same intensity. You whine his name repeatedly against his lips and he can't help the smug look on his face as he says, "I know it's good now, but imagine how much better it'll feel when I'm actually fucking you."

You finally break eye contact as your orgasm washes over you. His lips are instantly on yours, quieting your continued cries of his name. Your fingers now curl around his wrist as his movements slow. He pulls away just enough, and once your eyes meet his, you smile so warmly at him. He leans in again and covers your face in kisses.

"You really are my best girl," he laments, gazing at you with total adoration.

It mirrors how he was looking at you earlier, but there's something new in his eyes. It's a hint of something more, something deeper that he can't find the words for yet.

He stays with you for the next few hours, as you just lay holding each other, before drifting off to sleep. You wake him up sometime before sunrise and tell him he should get home. He whines, tightening his arms around you before getting up.

You stand next to your window, with his arms around you again as he gives you a lingering goodbye kiss.

After watching his taillights fade into the early morning air, you climb back into bed with a smile. You close your eyes, your thoughts consumed with being his girl, before sleep overtakes you again.

[dukeofankh]

I mean, this is kinda the crux of things, isn't it? How do you change minds even when when folks are ostensibly part of the same group or the same movement? Sure I'm not gonna be able to reach this person, I'm a broadly cis white dude, but ask yourself seriously, even if you had every identity marker and oppressed identity in common, could you? Is just having big-picture things in common enough to override their radicalization and make them see things a different way? To crash through all the thought-terminating cliches and achieve actual consideration? Like...no? Probably not. Their whole page is all 4B stuff right now, they're clearly in separatist mode.

Like, does that make you responsible for them? Does it make it your life's mission to stop them? Is this something that will actually reach them, especially right now? Probably not. Hopefully soon we can give them something worth hoping for. Build something that's worth more than the faux-safety of cynicism. And along the way, yeah, words from people in their communities telling them to cut it out are helpful, especially to send the message to the targets of their words that they don't speak for you. But I'd be a massive hypocrite if I thought that men aren't capable of policing each other but women are. Good luck with this aspect of feminism, I think it's going to be the subject of some like, 1980s Feminist Sex Wars level fights and schisms over the next few years. I get the sentiment, and I hope we can come out the other side of it with a group that's more united in purpose and politically dangerous.

If your vision for the deradicalization of right-wing men begins and ends with "other men telling them that that's gross and to stop it" then I'm sorry, you do not understand how masculinity works.

"Men who hold patriarchal status" and "men who are feminists" are two groups who overlap less than you want them to. I'm sorry. That's not solely because men are so happy with patriarchal status that they don't want to risk it by policing misogyny/queerphobia/racism, It's because being misogynistic, queerphobic, and racist, end expressing other forms of toxic masculinity(and often abusively so) are part of how people establish and maintain patriarchal status. The men who have the ability to stop this via nothing but peer pressure are the very people who are doing it. That's by design. And engaging in feminist intervention is, in and of itself, usually the abrupt end of that status and its associated power to persuade misogynistic men.

Like, I have worked in blue collar jobs as a notably queer person. It was pretty much a constant deluge of verbal abuse. In my experience, most blue collar work environments are exploitative, abusive, and bigoted, and very gleefully so. On the occasions I have spoken up about someone saying something that was super fucking out of line (asking me which of the girls walking by was hottest. We were installing a portable classroom at a middle school), believe it or not, they completely failed to be shamed! Because nobody else on the crew gave a fuck. *I* was the weird one. They ghosted me. A full blown company ghosted me. I suddenly didn't have a job anymore because they just straightforwardly stopped telling me where the next job site was.

Like, this doesn't mean that it's your job to do it, but this vision you have of these big groups of men where everyone is on the fence and there is precisely one shit stirrer who can be shut down by a brave feminist man who can single handedly set the example for all these other guys...you are high. You are describing an "everybody clapped" level absurd scenario. Most of these truly virulent misogynistic guys either have zero friends, because, you know, our society is atomized to fuck, or they are in a group where the feminist guy is actually the weirdo who can be shut down and ostracized much, much easier than the misogynists, because there is no such thing as a man misogynists respect who stands up for women.

You might be saying "well, we're talking about longstanding personal relationships, actually. Like, they need to have to want to spend time with you and then, as a side effect, you can mind control them out of being a threat to us."

Problem with that being:

1: Many feminist men also have no friends, see the atomized society above.

2: Feminist men already stopped hanging out with men who make rape jokes because why the fuck would we want to spend time with them.

3: That isn't just because we respect women so hard. We are in many cases talking about men who are also deeply queerphobic, heirarchical, violent and abusive to other men. What initially drew me to feminism and women was a lack of heirarchical squabbling and constant bullying, and the ability to be openly queer. A lot of men who came to feminism did so because they knew that the patriarchy was not a place they would find success or acceptance. These are not the men who are gonna be able to change right wing minds.

4. Men do not view themselves as a monolith. There is no universal brotherhood of men. The actual meaning of the term "Fragile masculinity" is that men are constantly expected to prove that they are deserving of the status of being a member of their own gender. There are large swathes of men--including most of the men who you'd look to as examples of good, feminist men who you want to undertake this project--who are considered failed men, sissies, f****ts, soyboys, ect. They are. Not. Going. To. Convince. These. Men. Of. Jack. Shit. Much less successfully *shame* them. Jesus.

I know all of this sucks. I know it would be cool to be able to just point at a group and have them be responsible for the work. But nah. It's gonna have to be a societal project, one that will probably outlast all of us. Sorry. The thing you want these men to do is, absolutely, the morally correct thing to do. But presuming that it would be effective is, and once again I am so sorry about this, just ignorance of how these social groups function.

[silent-stories]

𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐃 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 - 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐗

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader

Summary: When Noah was left alone to take care of his daughter about two years ago, he never thought he would find someone else he would trust enough to include in his little family. But things can change.

Tw: little bit of angst (fluff is always there, I don't even write it in the tw anymore)

Series masterlist

3 years earlier

Your apartment felt suffocating. You stood by the kitchen counter, staring at the sink, trying to breathe through the frustration that had been building for probably months. Jason was pacing in the living room, the sound of his feet on the hardwood floor sharp against the silence.

"Why is this always so difficult with you?" His voice was rising, the anger behind it unmistakable. "I try to talk to you, to explain how I feel, but it’s like I’m speaking to a wall. You don’t listen."

You turned, your patience wearing thin. "I am listening, Jason. But you can’t just lash out every time things don’t go your way. It doesn’t work like that."

Jason’s face twisted in disbelief. "You think I’m the one causing problems? You think I’m just making this up?" He threw his hands up, exasperated. "You don’t even seem to care when something’s wrong. You shut down every time I try to talk to you about it!"

You let out a slow breath, trying to hold on to the last shreds of calm you had left. "That’s not true. I care. But you’re trying to control everything. You are trying to control me, and it’s exhausting. Every time we have a disagreement, you make it feel like it’s my fault, like I’m the one who’s doing everything wrong."

Jason scoffed, his voice thick with sarcasm. "Oh, so now I’m controlling? That’s rich. I try to make things work, I try to talk to you, but all you do is shut me out."

"Don’t act like this is just about us not communicating," you snapped, your voice shaking with frustration. "It’s not just one thing, Jason. It’s everything. The way you treat me like I’m supposed to be available on your terms, the way you talk down to me like I’m incapable of making my own decisions. You’re always making everything about you and your needs, but you never ask how I feel about anything."

Jason’s eyes darkened, but you saw something else there too—fear. Maybe he wasn’t ready to face what he was losing, but you had already made up your mind. "You’re overreacting," he muttered, taking a step toward you, but you didn’t back away.

"No, Jason. I’m done," you said, your voice more firm than you felt. "This isn’t working anymore. I can’t keep doing this. I don’t want to keep doing this."

Jason froze, his brow furrowed. "What are you talking about? You don’t mean that. I love you. I need you."

Your chest tightened at the words,. "We shouldn't feel the love so painfully. I shouldn’t. You don’t love me, Jason. This isn’t love," you said. "Love isn’t trying to control someone, love isn’t belittling them every chance you get, love isn’t making them feel small. You don’t get to hide behind 'I love you' and make it okay."

His face twisted in disbelief, like he was trying to comprehend what you were saying. "You’re throwing all of that away? After everything?"

You shook your head slowly, the tears you’d been holding back threatening to break free. But you didn’t let them. Not now. "I’m choosing myself, Jason. I can’t keep letting you walk all over me and thinking it’s okay. I’m done with this and I am truly sorry things didn't go in a different way, trust me."

For a moment, he just stood there, staring at you like he couldn’t believe what was happening. His eyes flicked to the door and back to you, his lips parted like he was about to say something, but the words didn’t come.

"Just go," you said, your voice barely a whisper but stronger than it had been in weeks. "Please. I need you to leave."

Jason hesitated, his fists clenched at his sides. "You’re making a huge mistake," he muttered, his voice low and strained. "You can’t just throw this all away. You’ll regret it."

You shook your head. "No. I won’t. I’m not doing this anymore."

He stood there for a long moment, and then, with a final glance at you, he turned toward the door. It clicked open, and then shut.

The sound echoed in the silence of your apartment, and for a moment, you just stood there, your back pressed against the door, your breath coming in shallow gasps. You told yourself you had made the right decision, that you had done what was best for you. And yet, as the seconds ticked by, something inside you twisted.

The tears came in slow waves at first, and then, like a dam breaking, they poured out. You didn’t try to stop them. You didn’t even know how to. You sank to the floor, knees pulled to your chest, burying your face in your arms as the sobs wracked your body.

You had told him to leave. You had closed the door on him. You had made the decision to walk away from a relationship that has never been healthy.

And still, your heart ached like it had been ripped out of your chest. No matter how much you tried to convince yourself that you were done, that you were stronger than this, your heart betrayed you. You had loved him. You loved him.

And as much as you tried to convince yourself that the way he treated you—his lack of respect, his jealousy, his need to control everything—had been enough to make you forget the love you once shared, your heart couldn’t let go.

You loved him. Even if you didn't want to.

One week after he stepped out of your house, you got the news that he left the city to open his shop somewhere else. And you haven't heard from him since.

Now

You were still staring out the window, frozen, as the realization hit you like a punch to the gut.

Jason’s Ink Studio.

The name was loud and clear in your mind, a flashback to everything you had worked so hard to leave behind. You hadn’t expected this, not today, not now. You never thought he could get back in town, and yet, here he was.

Your gaze fixed on him before your mind could even catch up with the shock in your chest. He was standing on the other side of the road, talking to someone, his face in profile as he lifted a package—large, wrapped in brown paper.

His hair, lighter now than it had been back then, was short but messy, like he’d run his fingers through the light brown locks and forgotten to smooth it down. The buzz cut he once wore was gone, replaced with something more grown-up, but still familiar.

He was wearing a simple black sweater with the sleeves rolled up, revealing the tattoos that snake around his forearms, ink you remember well. His skin is still a bit tanned, like it always was.

His eyes, those blue-grey eyes that had always caught the light in that almost magnetic way, were hidden from now, but you knew they were shining under the morning light.

You didn’t want to look, but you couldn’t help it. As he turned, walking toward the door, his eyes flicked up, right toward the window where you were standing. For a split second, you could have sworn his gaze landed on you.

Your heart skipped a beat, but you didn’t move.

You weren’t sure if he’d actually seen you, or if you were just imagining it. But in that moment, everything around you seemed to stop. You held your breath. You didn’t want to react. You didn’t want to acknowledge him, not in this place, not now. You were happy with Noah. You didn't want to see him everyday in front of your workplace.

For a moment you both stood there, and then, just like that, he disappeared through the door of his own shop.

You exhaled slowly, the air feeling thick in your lungs. Your palms were suddenly clammy, and you found yourself gripping the counter for stability. He was here. Of course he was. Back there like nothing had changed. But so much had changed. You had changed.

You stared at the door he had just walked through, a sense of unease twisting in your stomach, still trying to wrap your head around the sight of Jason standing outside. It had been years, but seeing him again—especially in front of your café—stirred up a mess of old memories. Why the hell was he back?

Noah’s voice suddenly cut through your thoughts. “Hey, you okay?”

You blinked, snapping back to reality. "Yeah. I'm fine," you muttered, brushing off the question. But before you could add anything else, Grace, leaning over the counter, caught sight of what was going on on the other side of the window.

"Oh well—look who’s back."

You stiffened. Noah looked over, clearly confused. “Who?”

You let out a sharp exhale. “You remember when I told you about my ex?”

Noah raised an eyebrow. "The tattoo artist who treated you like shit and left the town to chase a bigger paycheck?"

“Yeah.”

Grace, without missing a beat, pointed at the window. “Him. Right there.”

Noah turned, following her finger, and the look on his face shifted. His eyes narrowed, “Of course he’s back.” He muttered.

You felt your stomach tighten. “I don't know why he's here. But I don't fucking want him here. Not in front of my café."

Grace, clearly enjoying the situation a bit too much, leaned in with a smirk. “I wonder if he already knows about your ‘charming’ new... rockstar boyfriend with pink nailpolish here?”

Noah shifted on his feet, his expression tightening ever so slightly. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Grace shrugged, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Oh, nothing. Just wondering if the guy’s gonna get jealous seeing you’ve moved on... to someone else.”

You felt the heat rise to your face, and before you could respond, Noah cleared his throat. His voice, though calm, had an edge to it. “Yeah, well, that’s none of his business.”

The casualness of his tone didn’t escape you, but there was something else—something in the way he said it that made you wonder if he was a little too quick to defend you. Or maybe he was just annoyed by the whole situation, too.

Grace watched the two of you, clearly entertained. "Oh, I get it now. High-school reunion vibes, huh? A bit embarassing and awkward?"

You shot her a glare. "Don’t even joke about that."

Noah’s posture had shifted. He was still looking at the window, but the way he stood now had more tension in it. “If he thinks he can just show up and start making trouble, I’ll deal with it,” he said, the words sounding like more of a promise than a suggestion.

You blinked at him, taken aback by the sudden protective tone in his voice. It wasn’t that you didn’t appreciate it—but why was he getting so worked up?

“I don’t need you to deal with it,” you said quickly. “I can handle it myself, don't worry.”

Grace leaned in, eyes dancing with mischief. “Oh, I’m sure you can. But... still, if he tries anything, I’m pretty sure he’ll wish he hadn’t.” She finished the sentence looking at Noah.

You crossed your arms, trying to ignore the tension building between you and Noah. You could feel his eyes on you, but you weren’t sure if it was out of concern or something else entirely. Was he already jealous? Without even seeing Jason yet?

“He’s not gonna try anything,” you said, trying to reassure both you and Noah. “I’m done with him. For good. It's almost been four fucking years. I moved on. He probably did that too. Maybe he moved back with... I don't know, his wife? Who knows.”

Noah just nodded, staying silent. You knew his mind was full of thoughts but that wasn't the right moment to talk about them.

You stared at the window again, watching your ex as he spoke to someone outside, completely unaware of the tension building inside the café. The knot in your stomach only tightened.

You kept working after Noah left to work on something with the band.

The café was busy and you used that as a distraction from the knot of anxiety in your stomach. You couldn’t shake the image of Jason standing outside.

You busied yourself behind the counter as you made drinks and refilled pastries, trying not to look up at the window every few minutes. But every time the door opened, your heart jumped, and you couldn’t help but glance over.

A couple walked in, laughing together. The man’s grin reminded you too much of Jason’s—slightly crooked, genuine, and a little too familiar. For a split second, your heart skipped, and you felt the familiar ache in your chest. But as they made their way to the counter, you saw it wasn’t him. You exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

"Can I help you?" you asked, your voice a little shaky as you forced a smile.

The man ordered a cappuccino, and you moved through the motions, trying to push the thought of Jason from your mind. But every time the door opened, you couldn’t stop your heart from skipping. You looked, always half-expecting him to walk through.

The bell above the door chimed again.

The man entering had brown short hair, his face half-obscured by the collar of his jacket, but for a moment, your mind screamed, It’s him.

You froze, watching as he approached the counter, but when he turned his face toward you, your stomach sank. It wasn’t Jason. Just another stranger.

You forced yourself to breathe, to smile. To get it together. You couldn’t keep reacting like this.

Minutes passed. Then another hour. The tension in your chest never quite eased, but you managed to focus on the customers, the tasks at hand, your routine.

Jason wasn’t coming in. He couldn’t be.

And as the day wore on, and the sun began to set, you didn’t see him again, not even outside the window.

You kept working, moving through the motions. But the truth was, the sense of unease wouldn’t leave. Every time you heard the door, part of you braced for the possibility that it was him. The man who had once been everything, but now felt like a stranger.

But he didn’t come. Not today.

Noah was sprawled on the couch in the band's living room, casually scrolling through his phone while Ruffilo sat across from him. The quiet hum of the house felt comfortable, but Noah’s mind was clearly elsewhere.

Finally, after a few minutes of silence, Noah set his phone down with a frustrated sigh.

“What's wrong, man?” Nick asked casually.

Noah ran a hand through his hair. “It’s just... Y/N’s ex is back in town,” he said, his tone less than enthusiastic. “And he opened up a tattoo shop right across from her café.”

Nick’s eyebrows shot up. "Wait, that guy? The tattoo artist?"

“Yeah,” Noah confirmed, leaning back against the couch. “Jason. He’s been gone for a while, but now he’s back. And of course, right across from where Y/n works.”

Nick nodded thoughtfully. "That’s... uh, that's gotta be awkward."

Noah rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, it’s not great. And I can’t help but feel like something’s going to happen. It just doesn’t feel good."

Nick leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I get it, man. But, you don’t have to worry about that. Y/N’s with you now, and she’s moved on. She’s not gonna let some guy from her past mess things up.”

Noah hesitated. "I know. But... I don’t know, man. I can’t shake this feeling. Ever since I got involved with Y/N I’ve been scared of losing her. I’ve always been scared of it, after... well, after everything that happened with Hannah." He took a deep breath and looked at Nick, his expression more vulnerable than usual. “But now... with Jason back in the picture, I feel it more than ever. I don’t know what’s gonna happen, and it scares the shit out of me.”

Nick studied him for a moment, then leaned back into his seat, shaking his head slightly. "You’re doing it again," he said, his voice calm but firm. "You’re thinking about things that haven’t even happened yet. I get that you're worried, but listen, you don’t have to keep carrying that fear around."

"I know I sound like a broken record,” Noah said, rubbing his face with his hands. "I just... I love her, man. I don’t want anything to mess that up."

Nick’s tone softened. “I get it. I do. But you don’t have to be scared of losing her. You’ve got a solid thing going. Y/N chose you. And she’s with you now. Jason’s part of her past, and that’s where he’s gonna stay. She’s moved on."

Noah let out a long breath. "I know. But it’s still hard not to worry, you know?"

Nick gave him a small smile. "Yeah, I get it. But trust me, man. You’re enough. You don’t have to live in fear of something that might never even happen. You’re already doing everything right."

Noah nodded slowly. “Thanks, man. I needed that.” He stood up, stretching. “I should go pick up Luna. She’s probably starving by now.”

Nick chuckled, standing up with him. "Good idea. But hey, remember, if you need to talk, you know where I am."

Noah smiled. "Appreciate it."

With a final wave, Noah walked out the door.

Things would work out, he hoped. But he still couldn’t shake the weight of his own worries.

He didn't want to get hurt again.

When Noah stepped into the daycare, his eyes quickly found Luna sitting at a small table in the corner, her little brow furrowed in concentration as she worked on something with a pile of crayons scattered in front of her. She caught sight of him immediately and waved enthusiastically.

"Daddy!" she squealed, bouncing out of her seat.

Noah grinned, walking over to scoop her up in his arms. "Hey, sweetheart," he said, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Ready to go home?"

Luna nodded excitedly, but before Noah could move, Ms. Harper, one of the teachers, approached with a warm smile.

"Noah, do you have a second?" she asked. "We had a little project today, and I wanted to show you something."

Noah glanced at Luna, who ran off to rejoin a friend in a nearby play area.

"Of course," he replied, following Ms. Harper to the small corner of the room as she handed Noah a folded piece of paper.

"We had the kids draw pictures of their families,” she explained as Noah opened the paper carefully. “Luna was really proud of hers, and we wanted to make sure you saw it."

The paper was an explosion of color, with vibrant swirls of pink, blue, yellow, and green. In the sky, there was not a sun (like it usually was in kids' drawings) but a moon.

The clouds were big and puffy and a small house stood in the middle of the page.

Noah’s heart warmed as he looked at the three main figures in the foreground. One was small, the other two larger. The shapes were simple—a circle for each head, a few lines for arms and legs, but they were immediately recognizable. A man, a woman, and a smaller figure.

"That’s us, isn’t it?" Noah asked, looking up from the drawing to meet Ms. Harper’s eyes. His voice was soft, filled with warmth.

The teacher smiled and nodded. "Yep, Luna said it was ‘Daddy and Y/N.’ She was so proud of it."

Noah’s heart swelled as he looked back down at the drawing. The way Luna included you made him smile. "I love it," he murmured.

As he admired the picture, his eyes wandered to the background. He noticed several small shapes scattered on the horizon, almost like trees but not quite. They looked out of place compared to the other elements in the drawing, and his curiosity piqued.

"What are those?" he asked, pointing at the figures.

Ms. Harper chuckled softly. “She said those are her uncles,” she explained.

Noah’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, a laugh escaping him. "Her uncles?"

"Yes," she replied, grinning. "She said they’re the uncles who love her."

Noah couldn’t help but laugh too, a warm, genuine smile spreading across his face. "Well, I'll tell them Luna included them in the family," he said, shaking his head with amusement. "This is perfect."

Luna, who had been playing with her friend, returned to him just as he was carefully folding the drawing.

"Dad" she asked eagerly, "did you see my picture? What do you think?"

Noah beamed down at her. "I love it, Luna. I think it’s the best drawing ever." He picked her up with one arm and kissed the top of her head. "You’ve made me so happy with this."

Luna’s face lit up, her grin stretching wide across her face. She hugged him tightly, her tiny arms wrapping around his neck. "I’m glad you like it!"

The teacher gave them one last smile before stepping away.

"Alright, Lu," Noah said, shifting Luna slightly in his arms, "let’s go home."

The soft glow from the TV illuminated the dim room as you and Noah lay on his bed, wrapped up in the warmth of his blankets as Luna was already sleeping in her bedroom.

The gentle hum of some anime playing in the background was more of a comfort than entertainment at this point. You were curled up beside him, your head resting on his chest, the familiar weight of his arm draped over you. His hand idly brushed through your hair as you watched the fight happening on the screen, though you noticed he wasn’t quite as engaged as usual.

You shifted slightly, glancing up at him. His gaze was fixed on the ceiling, unfocused, almost as if his mind had wandered far away from the bright colors on the TV. You could feel the subtle tension in his muscles, the quiet distance that had come over him.

"Hey," you murmured, your voice soft but steady. "Mrs. Linn asked to come see her sometime, yesterday. We talked a bit when I was about to get into my car to go back home. I forgot to tell you. She seemed such a sweet lady." You smiled, hoping to bring his attention back to the moment, but his gaze didn’t move from the ceiling.

Noah’s lips tugged up slightly, but it was more of a reflex than a genuine response. "Yeah, it’s been a while since I’ve seen her," he said absently. “Maybe we could all go sometime, say hi." His tone didn’t carry the usual warmth, though. His mind was still clearly elsewhere.

You frowned, now fully aware of the shift in his mood. You grabbed the remote and paused the anime, the room suddenly feeling quieter, even more intimate with the absence of noise.

"Is it about Jason?" you asked softly, almost afraid of what his reaction might be.

Noah didn’t look at you, but his head gave the smallest nod, confirming what you already suspected. His jaw tightened, and you could tell his thoughts were running in circles, probably replaying some old memories.

You let out a quiet sigh, lifting your hand to gently trace his arm, feeling the warmth of his skin. "You don’t have to worry, Noah," you said. "I love you. I love Luna. I love the life we’re building together. He’s a ghost from the past, and that’s all he’s ever going to be now." You pressed a soft kiss to his naked chest, hoping the words would reach him, would soothe all his worries.

For a long moment, Noah didn’t respond, but then he shifted, turning to face you. His eyes were soft but looked tired. "I know," he said quietly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "It’s just... when I realized he was back earlier, I don’t know... it just stirred up a lot of shit that is still there. You are important to me. I don't wanna lose you."

You smiled gently, sliding your hand to his face and cupping it tenderly, your fingers brushing his stubbled cheek. "You’re allowed to feel however you feel. And if you wanna talk about anything, I'm here." you whispered. "But don't think I'm gonna leave you. I’m right here. I'll be here until the day you'll tell me to go away." You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

And as if in response, his lips curved into a smile, a soft, real smile. You moved away slightly, your gaze meeting his.

"There it is," you teased, pressing more kisses to his face, his cheeks, his nose. His eyes closed, and he chuckled, the sound warm and genuine.

"Finally," you grinned. "I didn’t hear you laugh since this morning. I was starting to worry."

Noah’s laughter filled the quiet space between you two, and you thought, in that moment, that everything would be okay.

Even if Jason was back in town, he was still part of your past and that's where he was supposed to stay.

🍪 a cookie for you if you caught the little bmth reference

Tags: @anything-more-than-human @ladyveronikawrites @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @fadingangelwisp @xmads-omensx @iwasntstable @thisbicc @pathion @mathfairchild1 @flowery-mess @into-the-grey @lma1986 @tosoundlessdarkistare @stardustsirenmelody @thewrstinme

TBAF Tags: @aubrey-melinoe @klutzy-kay24 @mrscevans @concreteangel92 @iconic-taurus @niicoleleigh @cheyyyyr @supersquirrel1996 @respectfulrebel @alwaysfighforwhoyouare @clickmedead @missduffsblog

[echobx]

You sure? - JJ Maybank × fem!plus sized!inexperienced!reader

summary: you take your first hookup JJ back to your place and things start to get hot and heavy very fast

word count: 1.2k

warnings: smut adjacent, making out, suggestive talk, mention of reader being a virgin, mean!cocky!JJ (but only while horny), light petting, slapping, dry humping, biting

author's note: I don't think I'm ready yet to write full smut again, so I hope you forgive me for this somewhat fade to black kinda thing

   You're leaning against the wall behind you, hand holding onto the door frame that is pressing into your back. There's this dizziness inside you that you've never felt before. Warm and heavy and exciting and-��

   “You comin’?” JJ asked while pulling his shirt off and mindlessly throwing the fabric somewhere on the floor. The yellow overhead light casts a glow onto his toned, sun kissed skin as you watch his back muscles before he turns, and your breath hitches. There's something primal in how you force your throat to still and press your legs together. The thought of simply laying him down and licking him all overcomes to your mind before you remember what you actually had planned, and why you had picked specifically him for it. 

   “JJ, I've never done this before,” you croak, wishing you didn't feel so small under his unwavering gaze as he stalks toward you.

   “Hookups ain't for everybody, s'all good, I don't judge, princess,” he winks, twirling some of your hair in between his fingers while leaning over you. You wanna let loose a bit, let yourself fall into how easy he makes it all feel, yet there's the guilt tugging at your conscience. 

   “No,” you shake your head, speaking softly. “I've never done this. Kissing, touching, feeling-” 

   “Fucking?” he interrupts with a cocky smile on his lips, maybe too cocky, but he's standing too close for you to actually care. Your eyes focus on his, blue and growing darker with the passing second. It's like your throat is clogged up by the fear that he would actually leave or worse make fun of you for it, for revealing the truth. A gulp followed by a nod and a small, whined “yes” is all you can get out at first.

   Closing your eyes, you try to focus solely on your words, and not the fact that his calloused fingers are softly cradling your jaw, rubbing a thumb over the apple of your cheek before pulling your bottom lip down as you try to speak. “It- It would to-totally okay if you- you wanted to leave. I shouldn't have-” 

   JJ’s lips are warm and wet and a little chipped, but you don't mind it. You like that he knows exactly what he wants, and that his hand slips down to hold your throat, tilting your head back while swallowing your breath and whimpers. He's even closer like that, his free hand squeezes your hip while his body is fully leaning against your own. And you don't know where to put your hands, so you keep them by your side at first, until he forces one up to have you hold onto his neck. It feels like learning to drive; you're scared to do something wrong, but he's not letting you fail. Chasing your lips and grinding his hips against your body like it's the most normal thing to do. 

   You get dizzy again, the different kind of dizzy, the kind that makes you push against him enough so he stops and lets you both get some air to fill up your lungs. At least you thought so before his lips attach to your neck, kissing and licking, but when you let out a choked moan because he found your sweet spot, his hand lands hard on your cheek. 

   “Don't fucking dare holdin’ back,” he glares, and you nod diligently. It's not something you would've expected from charming, funny, flirty JJ Maybank, but you can't say it doesn't turn you on. 

   His lips lock down on yours again, and you sigh into it. Digging your hands in his hair, running your nails over his scalp until he bites your lip. Your mouth falls open at the piercing feel his teeth left on your plump lips, giving him enough room to dart his tongue into your mouth. Tentatively assessing the situation, he lets his tongue run over your teeth for a moment before smiling and somehow leaning into you even deeper. It's like he's actually trying to devour you, tasting every last millimeter of your mouth and doing it over and over again until you pull on his hair, and the only thing connecting your lips is a short string of spit. 

   “Done already?” JJ teases, tilting his head to the side. 

   “Does it always feel like this?” you ask, and it doesn't even make sense that those words come out of you when you actually just wanted to tell him to fuck you already. 

   “Nah, that's just me, baby,” JJ growls, pulling you away from the wall and kissing you again. It's like he's addicted to your taste, not getting enough even when it still lingers on his lips and tongue. 

   He's slowly stumbling backwards until the backs of his knees hit the bed, and he lets himself fall, pulling you with him. But his kisses and the way his hands roam your body never falter. Squeezing your hips, then your ass and boobs, before moving his hand between your thighs and under your dress. 

   Your breath hitches and he sucks on your bottom lip, letting his digits run through your slick folds another time while chuckling. 

   “No panties? You naughty girl,” JJ tsks, taking his hand up and licking it clean. “You wanna get up and strip for me, beautiful.” You’re still debating whether it was a question or an order when his hand closes around your throat. “I don't like repeatin’ myself, princess.” 

   The first thing you take off when you stand, is your heels, and all of a sudden you're another three inches shorter than him, which seems to amuse him. 

   “I should definitely put some inches in you,” he jokes, at least you hope so as you watch him lean on his elbows. 

   “Does that work on other people?” you ask, moving your hands behind your back, but failing to find the zipper. 

   JJ sits up, his hands coming to your hips before spinning you around and forcing you back until you can feel his face pressed right above your ass. “It's workin’ on you too,” he says before carefully pulling the zipper down while lifting his head. “Now turn around and take it off, slowly.”

You follow his instructions, turning your face to look at him before slowly letting your body follow. “It's okay if you wanna leave again-” You can't bring out another word because he's already bitten down hard on your belly fat. 

   “Don't fucking say shit like that again. You're fucking gorgeous, and I'm gonna be fuckin’ you stupid, all right? That's a Maybank promise,” JJ gives you a single wink before slapping your ass and making you jump a tiny bit at the pleasant sting. 

   He pushes himself to stand, taking your face in his hand and digging into your full cheeks a little, forcing you to open your mouth. “I should teach you how to give a proper blowjob. But first, we gotta make sure you're so sore you can't walk no more, once I'm done with you.” 

   And with that he forces another kiss on your lips before throwing you onto the bed as if you weigh nothing at all, all the while your friend's words cross your mind, and you want to laugh in her face. A hookup is the completely right decision for losing your virginity, especially when it's JJ Maybank. 

please don't copy and/or post my work onto other platforms! ~e©ho

taglist: @redhead1180 @spideysimpossiblegirl @drwstarkeyy @princessmaybank @ijustwantttoread @kys4-20 @immyowndefender @julczimozart @m2m2m2 @mochimms @dorkyfangirl24 @itsme-again @maybankslover @th3eternalersi

[controlsy]

These are the main characters of the story! A Spinch scientist in the mountain town of Ragus Kaep named Dr. Hawk wanted to do something no scientists had ever done before, which was create an entirely new form of life. Though he succeeded, it didn't go how he thought it would.

His intentions were to make an ESPer robanthry who could take in every piece of information imaginable. Verge N. 1 was his first attempt at this. Verge is effectively a "technology ESPer" which means he can read all data from every piece of technology. As an example, looking at a phone he could read through its entire message history, its browsing history, every app it has, every contact, and every voicemail. However, unlike regular ESPers, he cannot read the intentions behind messages that are sent.

Hawk considered Verge to be on the brink (or verge) of success, but not good enough, so he created Verse N. 2, who was the second attempt. Verse is exactly what he wanted- he can not only read technology, but also the minds of regular anthries and every living thing. Verse is, quite literally, the most dangerous thing that has ever lived on Spinch.

Hawk's intentions were bad- he wanted to use them for evil gains, but he didn't anticipate how much free will they'd have, and instead of being able to use their abilities for wrongdoing, he simply puts them through testing and tasks and experiments to see what they are capable of. He controls their lives.

Verse resents their creator because he doesn't view either of them as actual people, and he's full of bitterness and anger. Verge doesn't like Hawk either, but he also has a SERIOUS complex about the fact he's literally the "failure" of the project, while Verse is the "success". Verge and Verse are also technically the same person in their programming- Verse is simply an "improved" edition of Verge. Hawk just built them with different appearances to differentiate them. Both of them also have huge identity issues and want to be their own people and don't like that they're the same person... at least most of the time, when sometimes Verge falls into the wish that they WERE literally the same because Verse is "better" than him.

ESPer robanthries are different from regular anthries in one major way. They have the ability to control their powers instead of it being non-stop and un-mutable. One aspect of robanthry biology is the fact that, since they are computers, all of their "senses" are just programs, so they can turn them on and off. They can turn off their hearing, their sight, their voice, or their sense of touch at any time. The ESPer sense is technically just another program, so they can turn that off too.

I hope you guys like them!!!

[liiixsturniolos]

can u make an angst / smut fic inspired by heartbeat- childish gambino pleaseee I’ve asked sm people and no one answereddd 😔😔.

"Heartbeat"

chris sturniolo x reader

° You and Chris broke up for a reason. But you keep finding yourselves wandering back to each other.

warnings: kind of smut, (p in v), angst

You flunk down onto Chris' couch. It was 1am, he had called desperately again, you'd said you stopped this shit. You told yourself you were done. You'd told him that too, yet neither of you seemed to care.

Still, it doesn't matter, you're sat on his couch now, cursing yourself for it. You know you shouldn't be here, but your mind is defiant against you the moment you hear his voice.

You're anxiously perched on the edge of the couch, biting your thumb, your eyes wandering around the room.

"Here." Chris mumbles, handing you a drink, sinking into the couch next to you.

You glance at him, unsure. Did you make a bad decision driving over here? You should leave, but you want to stay.

"I know what you're thinking." Chris deadpanned.

"That we both want different things, and that this is a dumb idea?" You clarify, throwing up your eyebrows and turning your head toward him.

"This is the last time, alright." He swore, but it meant nothing.

You nod along, as if you're naïve enough to believe it. His hands roam through your hair, as he shoves his lips around yours, kissing you passionately, starving for you.

Things escalate fast, into a full makeout, chris' hand gripping your thigh with one hand and un hooking his belt with the other.

"Ugh-i missed this.." he whines, sliding his cock slowly into you,

You moan out quietly as buries himself into you.

The only sounds in the room were his grunts and your soft moans. "Mmhh-c-chris." You whimper, resting your face in his neck as he pushes further into you.

It all happens so fast. The feeling of chris deep inside of you again was something that, as much as you hate to admit it, you craved.

He pumps himself into you, and within a short moment, both of you have already reached a high. He's grabbing your hips as you moan into his ear, "ugh-im.. gonna." You tell him, as you both come simultaneously.

You throw yourself down beside him on the couch, not sure whether that was worth having to get over him another time...

Thoughts bubble inside your brain. This felt so right, laying next to him again. Maybe there's a reason you both keep ending up like this.

You decide to ask the dreaded question of.. "What are we?"

"Fuck. Why do we always end up having this conversation?" He sighs, rolling his eyes,

"Chris I told you not to fucking call me, and you did." You scowl, escalating the lazy chatter into an argument.

"Doesn't mean I changed my mind." He grunts.

"So you were just bored? fucking lonely and horny, hm? I'm just some bitch to you huh?" You shout at him, following him into his kitchen.

"No! Shit- this is why we ended this." He yells,

"We ended it yet you've called me seven times since then." You blurt out angrily,

"Fuck! Can we not do this shit again." Chris grunts

"Are we dating? are we fucking? are we best friends? are we something in-between that?" You scream.

"I don't know! I don't know what I want, okay?" He bellowed.

The sounds of his harsh, cruel tone echo off of the walls of his apartment.

The words sink into your heart. You feel stupid for going back to him again. He clearly just wants to fuck, but you've always wanted more than that, and he never will.

if you liked this, consider liking, commenting, or reblogging! thank you for reading! :)

taglist: @matthewsroses @chrislilcumslvt @pvssychicken @bull3t-f0r-my-v4l3nt1n3 @ivysturnss @mattsbitchh @matts-myloverboy @sturniolo-fann @emely9274 @sophand4n4 @uncannyguava

[astr-venus]

｡⁠☆Early｡⁠.ﾟ⁠+⁠ 

｡⁠☆Cw: suggestive, she/her, black reader, swearing

Katsuki came home from work early today. Not that you were aware. You, who's still in the middle of cooking dinner while blasting some song that Katsuki can't understand. It's melodic, smooth, and so so sensual. Katsuki may not be able to understand the English song lyrics, but just from the sound he can get the gist.

You don't have the best singing voice in your own opinion, but Katsuki is entranced just from the sound of it carrying through your shared home. He feels like he's floating as slowly follows the melody through the house, not bothering to take off anything except his shoes. He completely skips past the bedroom as well, uncomfortable clothes be damned, all he can think about is seeing you.

It's like a weight lifted when you enter his sight, and simultaneously a brick is placed in his chest. He just barely peaks around the corner, not wanting to interrupt your gentle singing, nor your sybaritic dancing.

It's not like he's never seen you dance before, and by no means are you genuinely shy — plus with enough liquor in your system anything is possible — but it's different seeing you in your element. He can't control how thickly he swallows, or the heat rushing in his chest and his cheeks. He fears he resembles some sort of stupid looking tomato, and god it's so embarrassing how worked up he still gets just from looking at you. He feels like an idiotic high schooler who can't keep it in his pants. Fuck, he feels so full of disgustingly mushy emotions he doesn't know what to do with it all. Katsuki swears he'll kill you if you don't get to him first.

He swallows again watching you rub your hands up your body as you whine your hips in the air. The stove lighting feels more like a spotlight as he stares, your brown skin seeming to glisten in the yellow-orange glow. He has half a mind to just wander into your bedroom and relieve himself before you even know he's home, but tearing his eyes away feels like a crime.

With a flourish you swing your hair around, giggling at yourself when the stiff parts of your curls barely move an inch. You let out a shriek when you finally catch Katsuki standing in the door way, one of the knives you used to chop vegetables seeming to magically appear in your hands. Call Katsuki crazy if you want to, but he can feel his body practically catch on fire when the tip of your knife just barely catches his Adams apple.

What can he say. It's hot as fuck that you know how to protect yourself, whether you're a prohero or not. If he has to go out this way, surrounded by the smell of the dinner his girlfriend cooked him, her eyes glinting with something both powerful and dangerous, well he'd say he must have some damn good karma. Fuck all that dying as a martyr shit, this is the best way to be sent to the grave by far.

"Katsuki..." You sigh, panic easing out of your muscles as you lower the knife. "You can't scare me like that."

Katsuki scowls, trying to hide the real reason his face is burning. "Shut the fuck up. You're the one waving that shit around. What have I told you about situational awareness, dumbass?"

He regrets his words as soon as your little frown over takes your features. He may have been a little harsh, damn it. It didn't even help either, his whole body still feels like it's on fire.

"Bad day at work, Katsu?"

You put the knife back on the counter, and bring your hands up to his face, because of course you do. Katsuki is already having a hard time keeping himself in check, and now you have to look at him with your stupid fucking sweet soft eyes. His chest feels like it's caving in on itself you're just making it worse. The worst part about it, is he even kind of likes it. God fucking damn it.

Katsuki places his hand behind your head and shoves your face into his chest, not able to look you in the eye when you're staring so tenderly. Your hands move downwards to rest on his back, allowing both of you to hold each other close. Katsuki scoffs.

"Didn't I tell you to shut the fuck up?"

You giggle, and Katsuki decides for the who-knows-how-many-th time that he wants to hear that sound for the rest of his life. He doesn't know what he would do without your stupid fucking smile.

Woohoo !! Second post !!

Katsuki feels so much cuteness aggression that he literally gets a hard on. That's it. That's the fic.

I would say "someone save his poor soul 😔" but I fear you are what salvation looks like to him so there'd be no point.

｡⁠☆Requests open

[itsmyfandomandilikeit]

Ok I have gone through all available evidence and I have a prediction.

Look I'm ngl I am watching Arcane for Cait and Vi. I love the show overall but this ship is what I'm most here for, especially after I spent the last 3 years under the assumption that Mel was dead. Glad she isn't. Point is, I really want CaitVi/Violyn/Piltover's Finest to be handled well, and I pay a disproportionate amount of attention to what happens with these two.

After watching the first arc of season 2 the other day, I was trying really hard to ignore the ending to episode 3. I didn't like that Cait hit Vi in the stomach and abandoned her in a pit after being all classist at her, but I thought, this is Arcane. Arcane is the greatest fucking thing I've ever seen, of course they're gonna find a way to make this work. But that made me think of it as a puzzle. How could they possibly make this work?

Option one, Cait sucks now and she and Vi don't get back together. I don't think this makes sense, because of the brand. CaitVi is a popular ship that just about everybody likes. A huge amount of the hype for this season before the trailers came out was building up assurances that don't worry, CaitVi is happening and it's not gonna be ambiguous. Take this teaser from like two weeks after season 1 ended, a couple of Valentine's Day icons, and one million tweets from Amanda Overton. Why the fuck would they make this season be about Cait and Vi not working out? It simply doesn't make logical sense.

Ok, so we're starting from the assumption that Cait and Vi have a happy ending that makes people feel like they should be together, and continue to want to play as them in the games and buy merchandise. That means they either explicitly get back together, or it's so implied there isn't much of a difference. My money is on zero ambiguity. Vi is the main character and Cait is maybe #3 or #4. Ambiguity about their ending would just look like a weak writing choice and they didn't know what they're doing. The Arcane writers don't tend to go for wishy washy.

But here's the problem. Domestic violence is bad. It's about the fastest way to guarantee the majority of your audience doesn't think two characters should be together. It would take a herculean effort on Cait's part to make up for that and honestly I still wouldn't believe it. To me, there isn't any kind of act of service that makes up for hitting your partner. Not even ensuring the independence of the nation of Zaun. Add on top of that the over the top hurtful comments about Vi's blood and class. It makes her look very much like, deep down, she thinks of Vi as beneath her. If she meant those things, a relationship between them is impossible. (Not to mention how many teenaged girls I know are watching this, and I don't want them to think it's ever okay to be treated like that, even in a fantasy series.)

So my prediction is this. The only way to make a relationship between Cait and Vi viable again is to render those comments and the sentiment they carry meaningless. How do the writers do that? Imo it turns out later that Cait intentionally came up with cruel things to say to cut Vi loose. She realized that Vi would never be able to kill Jinx, and this new explosion will make the situation aboveground even worse, and Vi still won't be able to contribute to the hunt after this. Vi has no future as an enforcer against Jinx and will probably get treated like dogshit as a Zaunite, so Cait is "breaking her heart to save her", as Tvtropes would say. In Cait's mind, it's better if she's left down here in Zaun.

What evidence do I have for this? It fits Cait's characterization as a genius who thinks quickly and several steps ahead. It fits the tiny animation details we zero in on of her stiffening her trembling lips and furled eyebrows. It un-ruins the most popular canon relationship in League. It allows act 1 to end on massive shock value but roll it back later to show that Cait actually does love Vi, enough to let her go for her own good.

I'm not arguing this is the best possible solution but it's the one I think they're going to go with. Amanda Overton and some others have repeatedly said that CaitVi fans will be happy with the ending to Arcane. Everything about the show(the opening, Netflix Brazil's Twitter account, the story) points to them being the show's OTP except for this one scene. I think Cait intentionally cut Vi out of her life by pretending to be much crueler than she wanted to be, to protect her and, likely, as a form of self destruction.

[oceanqueenmusical]

*Busts down the door* NOBODY EXPECTS THE SPANISH INQUISITION!

Ha, sorry! I just saw this post and felt compelled to add my own two cents since Macaque’s characterization and reception by fandom is something I feel pretty strongly about. Also bear in mind I mean none of this hatefully, I’m just participating in a debate.

While again, you're correct and valid in a lot of your points, I just can't agree with the statement that Macaque is just a bad person.

That’s great! Because Time didn’t say Macaque was ‘just’ a bad person. They actually acknowledge several times that he’s complex and multi-faceted. But being complex doesn’t mean you can’t also be an asshole to almost every other person you interact with. He repeatedly hurts several characters, and in the first two seasons he does so with zero provocation other than his hatred for Sun Wukong. He’s complex, yes, but still a dick.

I get what you're saying, but season 3 is entirely about dissecting the characters (namely Wukong and Macaque) while they're at their most vulnerable. And while this show isn't really known for consistent writing at times, the season is also spent getting to know Macaque and what his true intentions are.

I get what you’re saying here, but that’s… debatable? Monkie Kid has 11 minute episodes, and a lot of them are crammed with details that aren’t expanded on. Wukong is consistently benched every season and special, even if it’s done differently each time. He literally spends half of s3 meditating, and in the special he’s possessed. We don’t really see him at his ‘most vulnerable’ unless you count him being yelled at by Mei and then possessed by LBD, and even then that’s not really emotional vulnerability — which I assume is what you’re referring to.

Similarly, Macaque isn’t really emotionally vulnerable either. He’s tossed around by LBD, and sure, he’s ‘vulnerable’, but he spends all those scenes being terrified or snarky. We don’t really see inside his head at all. And— what ‘true intentions’? He’s literally hunting down the Monkie Kids to deliver them to LBD because she’s threatening him into compliance. Those aren’t true intentions, that’s just forced compliance.

M.K literally goes "deep, deep down, you're not [a bad] guy", and Macaque takes that as his incentive to join the group and help them save the world, which he continues to do for the next two seasons.

Uh, yeah… so, I did not like that speech at all and I think it was done very poorly and was unwarranted, but that is only my opinion. However, Macaque didn’t really help in s4. He just showed MK a video game to motivate him into fighting Azure and nominally helps Mei beat Peng. Not a lot happens, and he’s certainly not remorseful or apologetic towards anyone for how’s he’s treated them in the past. It’s just kinda brushed over. In s5 he’s a LOT more helpful of his own will though, I’ll give you that.

He also only was present for 1 episode in season 1, and I think 2 in season 2, so it surely wasn't "two full seasons". These seasons we don't know almost anything about him. We're supposed to take his actions purely at face value up until Season 3, where it's all spent letting us know that he does all of it because he was terribly hurt and betrayed (at least to him) by his closest and only friend (regardless of the nuances of that situation as well) and feels now more than ever that he can only rely on himself (something he also literally says). It's why he tries to save himself over the world (along with his well-hidden but clearly there) hope and belief that MK and his friends were capable enough to handle the rest in Season 3.

Okay, you may be right that we didn’t see a lot of Macaque in the first two seasons… but what we did see from him was not good AT ALL. Sure, he may have only had two episodes, but he spent those episodes being a dick and torturing MK and his friends for funsies. You can’t just say ‘oh, we haven’t seen their full character yet!’ Just because he only had two episodes in the first two seasons. Even if he had little screen time, he spent all of it being a manipulative asshole.

And as for s3 — again, even if he’s traumatized and has hope for the Mobile Kids, he’s acting on it in the most dickish way possible. He didn’t HAVE to separate the van into two copies and torture Mei and Sandy, but he did. He could’ve just isolated MK, taken him to LBD, and finished the job. He chose to keep Mei and Sandy around to get to MK.

Him "having fun while doing it" is, again, why we're meant to take his actions at face value. He acts like he doesn't care how he makes people feel, acts like he just hurts people for the fun of it, when there are clear reasons (justifiable or not) why he does those things.

… This is just headcanon territory. I’m sorry, but the only time Macaque shows a SMIDGEN of regret for what he’s doing is in s3 ep10 when he is actively being consumed by LBD’s curse, and even then he sounds more in pain than anything.

This is shown all throughout season three. He didn’t have to torture the Monkie Kids, level Ao Guang’s palace, hold Mei hostage, beat the shit out of Tang and degrade him, or choose to mock MK when he could’ve just gotten the job done with. He CHOSE to do those things, and he smiled the whole time. If you interpret him as remorseful that’s totally fine, but that is a headcanon. If he was genuinely sorry, he would have said something or showed even ONE SECOND of remorse on his face when he was alone.

His debut episode, he only does anything he does to get back at Wukong because he's upset for a valid reason. Was it okay for him to hurt MK the way he did? Of course not. But he didn't do it just because he's evil and likes hurting people, he did it because he hides away his good nature to keep people away and avoid being hurt (something he actually unveils that very episode in his lessons to MK. Macaque indirectly lets us know how he thinks with his learned ruthlessness).

Yeah, uh, I don’t know how to say this, but your buddy killing you 500 years ago doesn’t justify you trying to kill his mentee. Is the reason he’s upset valid? Yeah. Not valid enough to manipulate and try to murder MK, though.

Also… we have no proof he ‘hides his good away’. That was an assessment made by MK. You know, the guy who generally tries to see the good in people. Maybe Macaque was teaching MK with methods he genuinely believed in, but you can literally see throughout the episode how Macaque is manipulating MK and making him more and more angry and prone to lashing out so he can steal his powers. Using MK to get back at Wukong was Macaque’s first and foremost priority that episode.

In Shadow Play, he outright refers to MK as his student, and they have a conversation at the end that really should've explained everything. He says he's "a good kid with a terrible mentor".

Macaque calls himself MK’s mentor to fuck with him. That’s it. He says it in a mocking tone, and is pleased when MK snaps back. I agree that he was definitely growing somewhat fond of MK by the end, but that doesn’t change the fact that ‘student’ was a word used by Macaque to mock MK, and MK visibly reacts with anger and frustration when he’s called that by Macaque. Not exactly a moniker used with fondness in that episode.

This episode isn't him mentally tormenting MK just for the sillies.

… Yes. It literally is. The entire episode he mocks MK and makes assumptions about MK’s character that he based on (his biased and untrustworthy view of) Sun Wukong. Macaque literally drags MK through the mud while peppering his friends around, laughing at him for relating to the warrior. Why? Because Macaque assumes MK and Sun Wukong are the same people when they’re NOT.

Also… even if Macaque was trying to teach MK a lesson, he didn’t have to strip away the free will of three people to do it. He had so many other options. He chose to hurt people.

It's him, in the harsh and brash nature I mentioned before that we actually see best in perspective post-redemption with the game he has MK play in Season 4, teaching MK to never forget where he came from and to not allow his newfound power and glory to cause him to forget about the people who care about him and who helped him get there. He tells the story about him and Wukong as a way of saying "don't let you and your friends become like us, don't ruin the good thing you have". This is an inherently good lesson done in a way that would disallow MK to actually see that Macaque is trying to help.

I agree that the lesson is good, but it’s still based on Macaque’s biased perspective of Wukong and MK. MK’s issue that episode wasn’t him becoming a glory-hound and forgetting his roots, he was having a breakdown over losing his mentor and discovering that he’s a magical monkey. However, I will agree on this point that Macaque was genuinely trying to help here.

His holding Mei hostage was obviously not okay (and I'm pretty sure he was bluffing, because he literally said before that that he didn't want to have to hurt anyone and that he was only there for the rings but that isn't the conversation, and either way holding people hostage is inherently bad),

Headcanon. We have no proof he was bluffing. Not wanting to hurt someone is very different from hurting someone anyways, and as we’ve seen Macaque is VERY capable of killing someone. In fact, I’d argue he had more motivation to do something drastic here considering he was literally being consumed by LBD’s curse! And again— he chose to hold Mei hostage and threaten Tang to complete the ritual. He could’ve waited it out or tried to talk but he did not. He chose the violent route. Sure, maybe he did because of his trauma, but that was still a choice he made.

but again, we know why. You can hear it in his voice and his dialogue that he's become desperate. Testimonies from both Wukong and Peng let us know that Macaque has never been the fearless type. In fact, his self preservation bleeds into a lot of his moments, where we never see him go in swinging. He plays mind games, he turns his fights psychological to give himself the upper-hand. So we know that Macaque is both, literally not himself, and clearly behaving in ways he never would. When he breaks free, he tries to run away. He doesn't keep pursuing MK and the gang, he tries to save himself and again, leave the rest to them.

Yeah, and he also gives himself the upper hand because he likes to be in control and psychologically fuck with his opponents. And actually? Aside from how desperate he sounds, nothing Macaque did in that episode was out of character. Being consumed by LBD’s curse didn’t change his brain chemistry all of a sudden, Macaque was capable of holding Mei hostage WAY before even coming into contact with LBD.

Also, yeah, he does run away. He runs away from the consequences of his actions after torturing Mei and forcing Tang to complete the ritual, leaving everyone else to deal with the mess he made.

And his regret and remorse are shown in the way he sticks around and keeps helping them when he has no reason to. He doesn't need to help out with LBD in s3 after he's free, cheer up MK with his speech, or help Wukong break out of the Scroll of Memory, or be there for the fight against the Brotherhood all in s4, or have that talk with Wukong at the beginning of s5, especially, again, given everything we know about him and his constant feeling of needing to flee, but he does all of it anyways.

You do realize that in the s3 special and the latter half of s4 the world is about to end, right? Macaque helps because it’s in his own self-interest. I will give you season 5, but the earlier seasons? He’s helping because he’s not a dumbass and knows that the world is close to ending and that he should probably stop it if he doesn’t want to DIE.

Also if someone showed their ‘regret’ by sticking around to do the bare minimum with no apologies I’d yell at them to leave. He doesn’t even show remorse— he never apologies or looks regretful. He’s the same as always; cocky, snarky, and arrogant with a hatred for Wukong. Sure, it may have dimmed as the series progresses, but he’s mostly the same except he’s a ‘good guy’ now. No apologies to Tang, Mei, Sandy, MK, Wukong, anyone. He never shows any kind of regret in any way. Claiming that sticking around is how he shows regret is headcanon territory.

Should he have an apology? Of course he should, and it sucks that we don't get one, but we know that Macaque shows his feelings through action, and, in moments of vulnerability, isn't very good with words. It's why MK thinks Macaque is just being a dick when he initially tries to give him advice in s4.

Headcanon (I’m noticing a theme here). Sure, Macaque isn’t a very open book with his emotions, but you can’t say that he shows regret through actions when those actions have been bare-minimum saving the world. He never tries to show kindness to anyone he’s hurt. He dips in, saves the day with snarky commentary, and dips out.

Yes, Macaque isn’t good with words, but he also doesn’t seem to try. When he shows up as MK’s having a breakdown in season 4 he doesn’t try to comfort the kid, he literally announces himself by degrading Wukong. Which— do you think that would make MK feel better? Sorry, that was mean, but seriously.

MK thought Macaque was being a dick because Macaque showed up acting like one.

He didn't try to murder MK, he used him as bait to satiate a long-standing grudge. A bad thing, but not done unprompted.

… Yes. Yes, he did. He would’ve crushed MK to a pulp in s1 ep9 had Wukong not shown up. Macaque had no idea that Wukong would’ve shown up at that exact moment. For all he knew MK was about to die by his hand and he was CHILL with it. More than chill, actually!

Also— what do you mean ‘not done unprompted’?! Trying to kill a kid because you have beef with his mentor seems pretty unprompted to me! MK had no issues with Macaque until Macaque showed up to manipulate and kill him. Just because Wukong wronged Macaque once doesn’t make Macaque trying to kill his mentee prompted, I would say doing something like that is very much unprompted!

He didn't brutalize MK. He used harsh means to teach MK a valuable lesson. It was bad to use MK's friends the way that he did, it was bad to go at MK's safety and headspace to get his point across. But it was done with the intent of a good outcome.

What point?! What outcome?! I just rewatched the episode and all Macaque says is that MK’s a good kid with a bad teacher (which is an opinion, by the way), and Macaque could’ve just said that. And he says that AFTER he leaves the theatre and MK had to hunt him down. The ‘point’ Macaque was trying to get across was that MK and Wukong were selfish assholes who didn’t care about their friends— which is a biased and factually incorrect narrative that he made up because he couldn’t see Wukong and MK as two different entities.

I’m sorry, but no lesson is worth violating the autonomy of three people and traumatizing another. Tell me; if Wukong did anything similar to that to teach MK a lesson, would you still be cool with it?

He fought Tang for the Ring of Samadhi (I'm pretty sure he barely even hit him, so I wouldn't say "violently beat on", but an attack is still an attack so I won't tell you you're wrong)

Macaque kicks Tang in the face and throws him to the floor. He tries to punch him in the face and the ONLY reason he didn’t get to kick the shit out of Tang more was because Tang managed to unlock his cicada powers. Macaque didn’t beat on Tang more because of lack of opportunity, not lack of malice.

and, again, was just playing mind games as we see him do constantly no matter the enemy--a defense mechanism, a legit fighting strategy.

It’s also known as projection. Macaque does it a lot, especially to MK. Macaque brings up Wukong during their fight despite the fact that Tang was benched by MK and has barely interacted with Wukong that season. Also— Tang is (if we’re going off of Word of God) around 40. What threat does he pose to Macaque to necessitate a defense mechanism? Even when Tang gets powers it’s just making a shield. THAT is a defense mechanism.

But he was under the iron fist of LBD, and wouldn't have even bothered with Tang otherwise (I really could keep going about his actions in s3 and how well masked his encouragement of their team actually is). He was given his warning before this moment, and literally almost was killed then and there before he told her about their plan. LBD wouldn't have even known about it and thus wouldn't have had the time to prepare until his life was on the line.

This is true, but again, he goes about things in the most violent manner possible. Also— the only visible encouragement I see is at the end of ‘The Winning Side’, and that’s mostly to himself. Sure, maybe he’s not as violent as he could be, but that’s still not better.

His siege of the Dragon Palace of the East Sea was also only done because the LBD was practically dangling his right to live in front of him and as a means of self-preservation. This is a bad thing he does, but one that hardly counts, because again, he never would've bothered otherwise.

I’m gonna let you in on a little secret: the siege of Ao Guang’s palace? Yeah, that was before the ice curse that threatened to encase Macaque’s body. Sure, he was being coerced by LBD before then, but he still chose to attack the palace. He acknowledges that Ao Guang was only sent to slow him down— he could’ve left and pursued the team instead! But he instead chose to siege the palace and assault Ao Guang and he does so smiling and laughing.

Also— my god, ‘one that hardly counts’?! Just because you’re being coerced into an action doesn’t mean that everything you do during that suddenly doesn’t count! Oh, it doesn’t count to Macaque’s character? Well, guess what! It counts to the destroyed palace, the probably injured people who lived in that city, and the definitely injured Ao Guang.

You can’t write off everything Macaque does in s3 and use LBD as a scapegoat. She is an instigator for his actions, yes, but she wasn’t whispering in his ear to attack the palace. And if she was— he sure seemed to have a hell of a time doing it either way.

You're right, trauma doesn't exempt someone from responsibility, but the point isn't that Macaque isn't responsible for his bad actions, because in most cases, he is. But there's a lot of detail and understanding of his character that's missed when you take all of his actions before his redemption (and even after for some reason) and write him off as a "bad person".

Holding someone accountable ≠ missing nuance and detail. Macaque does bad things repeatedly, many times of his own free will, and even when they aren’t he takes them a lot farther than necessary.

And I gotta ask— when was Macaque’s redemption for you? Was it when he said sorry or showed remorse to somebody? Because I hate to break it to you, but that NEVER happens. Never. Not once. He leaves, shows up to nominally help, then leaves. There is zero present remorse there. Saving the world one time after all your other options are exhausted and getting a little speech about how deep down you’re actually a good person doesn’t ‘redeem’ you.

I thought we all agreed that redemption is taking accountability for your actions and making steps to be better. Macaque never does either of those things. The most he does is save the world and help out the team. That’s it. He doesn’t say sorry. He’s not kind — physically or with words — to anyone. He sticks to the shadows and doesn’t say anything until there’s an opportunity to be snarky and bag on Wukong. That is it.

Also, like I said at the start, Time never writes Macaque off. They acknowledge several times his complexity, and how he is a very nuanced character with multiple facets. But being a complex dick is still being a dick.

That’s all! If you’ve read this far thank you, and again, I don’t mean this as an insult, just a debate. Have a good day!

For fun how about rating Wukong ship from lmk and give your opinion why?

SWK Ship Ratings

(Scores rank from -10 at the lowest, and 10 at the highest)

Shadowpeach

Name Rating: 5/10. Basic, but rolls off the tongue. Started the trend of Sun Wukong having extremely basic ship names- more on that below.

Canon Rating: 0/10. Whatever they had in the past, Macaque simply treats Wukong far too awfully to really justify the two of them ever getting together. Even the attempts at reconciliation feel more like extremely forced ship baiting, given how it goes from one of the two being marginally kinder to the other than usual, then immediately dropping it for more sniping. (Past!Shadowpeach receives 5/10.)

Fanon Rating: -10/10. I’ve spoken at length about this, but fans love to distort Wukong into a drooling abuser so stupid he can’t breath through his nose, usually while turning Macaque into a Possession Sue who only serves to be the author’s simpering self-insert who is the most perfect little baby of all time who has never ever done anything wrong at all even once. If there is an attempt to be “nuanced” or “unbiased” it manifest as “Sun Wukong “killed” (re: defended himself against) Macaque so he’s worse.” It’s an awful, extremely pervasive dynamic that rots any fandom enjoyment I could have had for this couple.

Personal Enjoyment: 6/10. Getting to write Macaque as the legitimately awful person that he is takes off the edge of seeing constant “uwu sadboi” Macaque content. Still, I don’t touch anyone else’s Shadowpeach content because of this.

Peachlotus

Name Rating: 2/10. As you’ll see, most ship names involving Sun Wukong are, uh… extremely lazy. Just one of the other character’s traits with “peach” slapped before/after it. Fandom really dropped the ball with most of these. This one is especially clunky, at least on my tongue.

(See, Macaque gets stuff like Lunartides, Inkypages, Shadowpeach, etc- all very cool.. We need to diversify the nouns is what I’m saying. Coulda been something like “GingerRoot” cause orange fur + plant boy. “FlowerBuds” for the platonic name for peaches + lotuses. Do you guys see what I’m saying. It can’t just be raw peaches all the way down.)

Canon Rating: 2/10. Ne Zha also doesn’t treat Wukong too kindly, interacting with him mostly through insults and physical attacks. He does seem to have some understanding of the king, though, which gives him a slight boost over Macaque.

Fanon Rating: 1/10. It barely exists, and what little does exist is essentially just “Ne Zha is mad at Wukong over what the fuck ever, so they’re fighting” and little more. There’s a lot of potential for bonding over immortality and awful pasts or being commandeered by domineering authority figures, which I wish was used more often.

Personal Enjoyment: 2/10. I don’t see the dynamic, personally. Again, Ne Zha’s only interactions with him are only ever vitriolic or exasperated in nature, which doesn’t leave stable footing for a relationship to stand. Maybe I’ll make a chatbot for them one day and see if I come around to it.

“Freepeaches”

Name Rating: -5/10. This shit is exactly what I’m talking about with the lazily slapping “peach” onto whatever and going on. “Free” has no meaning between Wukong and Tang- it’s just a holdover from a more popular ship. Tang only mooches food from Pigsy. That’s one of the biggest elements of their dynamic. Sure, Tang likes free stuff (food, rides, physical labor), but when does he ever get that from Wukong? It just makes no sense.

AND IF IT HAD TO HAVE THE FRUIT, TANGYPEACHES WAS RIGHT THERE

Canon Rating: 6/10. Tang literally drew himself and the Monkey King together inside a heart. He adores Wukong, thought maybe not for who he truly is- and the two don’t any interaction in terms of Tang realizing his autistic parasocial special interest idol is a lonely old sage who misses his friends, which cripples what was a pretty cute dynamic. I think Tang coming down from his hero worship and being just a genuine friend to SWK would be cute, definitely.

Fanon Rating: 9/10. Pretty enjoyable! Freepeaches is one of the few dynamics where Sun Wukong isn’t constantly turned into a punching bag/villain to be beaten around for the amusement of the audience, and the two are often portrayed as legitimately healthy together- I especially enjoy how Tang is portrayed as needing to move past his hero worship for the two to have a healthy relationship. It’s cute.

Personal Enjoyment: 6/10. Never addressing the resemblance to Sanzang or having them interact in regards to this while the circlet is back on Wukong’s head feels like a massively missed opportunity, honestly. I think Sun Wukong’s personal feelings have been left to the wayside for far too long in canon, and getting to a point where almost every fucking character represses their feelings is lazy and boring.

Peachbuns

Name Rating: 4/10. Again. Just “peach” slapped onto an adjective or noun. It’s frustratingly boring. This one sounds delicious and both components are related to food at least, which fits Pigsy’s background… but it also sounds like something a horny dude would ask for pics of in your DMs.

Canon Rating: 1/10. Pigsy isn’t willing to take any of Wukong’s shit, so he serves as a pretty great “bullshit barrier” that provides a legitimately strict opposing force to Wukong, but there’s little else to even their relationship out. He’s never kind or supportive or worried- if the two interact, it’s always through the lens of “Pigsy is mad/suspicious”. There’s never any real bonding or growth between them at all.

Fanon Rating: 4/10. This ship barely exists, and when it does it’s Sun Wukong being lectured through life by a big strong man- not a dynamic I’m a fan of. However, it is surprisingly kind to Wukong in terms of empathizing with his struggles. Again, I wish there was less of “Pigsy teaches Wukong basic life skills” because it falls right back into the revolting fanon that is “SWK is a big dumb fuck who can’t read or cook or take care of himself without a husband to wipe his ass.”

Personal Enjoyment: 2/10. I just don’t click with it. Pigsy doesn’t like Wukong, doesn’t trust him, and doesn’t interact with him outside of that.

Moonstone

Name Rating: 10/10. This is what I like! Moonstone is not only a very real (and very beautiful) mineral, but it ties to both of them equally! You don’t see Wukong’s status as a stone-born demon be referenced often, so this is a refreshing change of pace from the constant “peach” names.

Canon Rating: 7/10. Chang’e is a lovely woman who is simultaneously not be willing put up with Sun Wukong’s bullshit while still legitimately respecting and admiring him. It makes for a nice duality in their relationship that most of his dynamics don’t provide.

Fanon Rating: 10/10. The working dynamic is so fucking good to start with that I’ve never once seen fanon drop the ball. Never. This ship is always so fucking sweet and honest with Chang’e calling out Wukong for his bullshit while never pushing it to the “Shit on Sun Wukong Show” levels that the fandom loves so much- she takes no shit, but does no harm. She’s supportive and acknowledges his traumas and fears. Wukong does his best for her. Moonstone shippers get an A+ and extra recess time.

Personal Enjoyment: 7/10. I just… I really like this one, dammit. There’s not a lot to go off of, but seeing fanworks that do not primarily treat SWK like living trash/baby the hell out of him is nice.

Lionpeach

Name Rating: 3/10. Again. Very boring and generic. I’ve seen Fuzzypeach which is a little cuter, at least. Still, it’s all the same “peach”+noun format.

Canon Rating: 3/10. The devotion Azure bears to Sun Wukong seems like it would bear a higher marking, but it’s shallow and flimsy. Azure never understood Wukong, never wanted what was best for him, never cared about his safety or happiness. Azure projects his beliefs and wants onto the people around him, blinding the big fella to shortcomings on their parts, and is delusional enough to never look inwards. Still, I can legitimately see

Fanon Rating: 0/10. It’s just smut. That’s it. When it isn’t it’s just “Ooooh! Azure is jealous of Macaque! Tee-hee, sorry Azure!” and that’s it. I’ve never actually seen any non-sexual, Azure-focused Lionpeach.

Personal Enjoyment: 5/10. It’s a fun enough dynamic to explore, especially with how unhealthy it is. I’ll probably make a bot of this too one day. Maybe a “yandere dads” type. Or a mutual Primal Moon bot.

Celestialchaos

Name Rating: 10/10. Another not peach-based name is a win in my book!

Canon Rating: 6/10. Xiangliu is civil enough to Wukong (about as much as everyone else), but the mention of them having once been friends is what got my attention. Shrouded past + + potential reincarnation shenanigans + decently civil behavior = a very happy writer. It’s so little but it makes my brain itch.

Fanon Rating: 0/10. It doesn’t even exist babes ;( I’m scrounging for water in the lonely plains of a desert y’all. I’m a lonely little cactus and Celestialchaos is my annual three-inch rain.

Personal Enjoyment: 10/10. C’mon now. You all were expecting this. I love this ship. I’ve already made four chatbots. I love Xiangliu as a wild little freak who desperately tries to push Wukong away from other people and sad lonely Wukong finding refuge in a freaky toxic snake. Especially I like the idea of Xiangliu pitting himself against Macaque and going after Sun Wukong just to cause a little trouble, only to actually catch feelings and start pursuing him in earnest. I like “I want you at your worst so I can prove that I still love you even then” Xiangliu and “You love me at all?” Wukong.

I really like this ship.

End Result

(Scores ranging from -40 to +40)

Shadowpeach= 1/40

(Past!Shadowpeach would around 20)

Lotuspeach= 7/40

Freepeaches= 16/40

Peachbuns= 11/40

Moonstone= 34/40

Lionpeach= 11/40

Celestialchaos= 26/40

[butchfalin]

the funniest meltdown ive ever had was in college when i got so overstimulated that i could Not speak, including over text. one of my friends was trying to talk me through it but i was solely using emojis because they were easier than trying to come up with words so he started using primarily emojis as well just to make things feel balanced. this was not the Most effective strategy... until. he tried to ask me "you okay?" but the way he chose to do that was by sending "👉🏼👌🏼❓" and i was so shocked by suddenly being asked if i was dtf that i was like WHAT???? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?????????? and thus was verbal again

[pardonmydelays]

i was in a really dark place before clancy came out in may... now i can genuinely say that i'm so fucking grateful for everything that happened ever since

[fiona-fififi]

The way people sometimes refuse to acknowledge that writing choices that clearly go against established canon should mean something is endlessly frustrating to me. We don't have to agree on the interpretation, but these writing choices SHOULD mean something.

Otherwise, it's shitty writing.

[snackleader]

Their mind is a contradiction. They're angry at Frin. They want him to protect them again. They don't want to get them hurt. They're so mad. They're scared, they're confused. Their mind is going in circles, spinning out of control. But they don't know what to do. The only thing they can think to keep doing is to keep clutching onto Siffrin's cloak.

That's why is comes as a surprise when suddenly there's a different weight to it. Their eyes were closed at this point, too full of tears to really see anything anyway. But suddenly the cloak was no longer weightless, lifted by something. Now it was being lifted by them. Bonnie sniffles and really takes in the situation.

Siffrin had taken off the cloak. When was the last time that Bonnie saw them without it, aside from when they were going to bed? They wore it everywhere. It and their dumb hat was how Bonnie could easily find them in a crowd. He never took it off. But, he took it off now, so that must mean something.

They make a connection, and it's not pleasant. Frin was planning to leave them. It scared them, the reality that their friend, their family, was just going to leave because they couldn't handle them anymore. Bonnie knows they aren't a good kid. They've always been disobedient and loud and full of anger. They tried their best to not be a burden during their journey though. That way that group wouldn't leave them behind at some inn. But now they've shown that they're a big burden and Siffrin isn't going to put up with him. Because they're a bad kid. Because Siffrin doesn't love them enough to put up with them.

They want Nille. They wish she was here. They always do, but the feeling is so much strong right now. They pull the discarded cloak close to them, hiccupping between sobs. Nille would never leave them. She always puts up with them, even when they're always. And they thought that Frin would too. They thought wrong.

"If you hate me so much then, just go! I hate you Frin! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you! Leave me alone! I never want to see you again." Please, don't leave them. They're so scared, please don't leave them.

You are rejected in an instant. Of course you are. Of course. You knew you would be, of course you would be! Of course, of course, of course... It still hurts though. Just a little smack of your hand to shoo you away, but it may as well been a death blow. Urgh.

You... abide the request. You retract your hands. Reluctantly. You do not touch Bonnie anymore. Even though they technically are touching you. They're gripping your cloak like it is their only lifeline. Actually, you're not too sure you like thinking about it like that. In any case, you do not... 'return' the touch, if that's even a thing. In the mind of a child, you assume this form of contact just 'doesn't count.' And you're okay with that.

Still, your hands don't really know where to go now. They hover helplessly above Bonnie as they cry and cry and stars you're still crying a bit too and you can't really stand it anymore. But you don't know what else to do. You hate that you keep realizing that. You're so stupid. Anyone else but you would know what to do. It's you that's out of touch. You don't know what to do. But you have to do something. You have to. You have to!

So you do something.

If the cloak really is a lifeline to them, not that you're still thinking of it like it is one, and you're not to touch them... Okay, you have an idea. Your hands need something to do so you don't feel so incompetent. Tentatively, you shift so that they carefully undo your cloak. You tug, just a bit, just enough maybe, to get Bonnie to let go of it, or ease up, so you can move it. You know they will not like that you do this. You know. You just hope that they can stand it for long enough.

Instantly and all at once, you are cold. But it's fine. That's just a testament to how well-crafted your cloak is, you suppose. You, very carefully, drape it over Bonnie like one would a blanket. You avoid tucking them into it, or trying to do it up around them, or anything that would involve your hands getting too close to them. But maybe this is nice? You don't know. You rub your hand against your arm to warm yourself up a bit. Well, your hands are occupied now at least.

You feel very vulnerable without your cloak on. But it's fine. You're so used to shrinking into it and hiding away, but now you're very much exposed. It never really dawned on you just how safe and warm and nice it usually makes you feel until now. Hopefully that all translates well enough to Bonnie. Given the fact that you lack the words, the ability, the right, to express any of that yourself.