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cherrrydragon · 3 months

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➤ find something worth saving (it's all for the taking)

CHAPTER TWO: SPIDEY LUCK (GOOD OR BAD? YOU'LL NEVER KNOW)

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SUMMARY ↳ You're adjusting well, comfortable with your new life. Too bad your spidey luck came with you to this universe. He offers his arm to you, but you hold out palm. “You’re nice and all, but I’m not letting you know where I live just yet.” He gives you confused puppy eyes. “You’re cute, but not that cute,” you pat his cheek as you walk past him. He watches you walk past him, before remembering himself and calls out. “What’s your name?” “Not that cute!” You remind him. pairing: jon kent x gn!reader x damian wayne warnings: cursing, mentions of discrimination based on financial situation, a vague-ish sex joke wc: 2.7k

Setting up an identity for yourself is remarkably easy. Natasha taught you just about everything you need to know. To the world, you are now [Name] Stark. Tony Stark is an eccentric recluse from Queens, with a mysterious inheritance allowing for travel around the world. And you, his curious child are now old enough to find her own way in the world, starting in Gotham. It’s messy, but hopefully it can keep people off your ass for a while.

Hacking into the wealth of Gotham’s elite is easy enough, stealing little by little every day so that they don’t notice (they probably wouldn’t, anyway). You steer clear of anything and everything Wayne related. For now, at least, it wouldn’t hurt to get ahold of some of his tech down the line.

Walking down the streets of Gotham is something your sense may never get used to. It’s easy to hide feeling threatened by everything, but it’s not easy to stop feeling threatened by everything. While you are certain you can handle a few common thugs or muggers, you are not excited to face your first round of fear gas. If it comes down to it, you’ll rely on your suit to protect you from it… hopefully it can.

Getting to East End is easy enough despite all the leers you get. Selina Kyle’s territory is riddled with crime and misdemeanor as much as the rest of the city, but it’s one of the cheaper areas. You’re legally old enough to get your own place, and with the money you take and a job you can hopefully find, you’ll be able to get by alright. As a hero, you should probably feel bad about stealing, but it’s not like millionaire’s and billionaire’s need a couple hundred dollars.

You walk into the rundown building, surveying the interior. It’s certainly seen better days, if the ripped up wallpaper and stains in the carpet are anything to go by. There’s no one at the front desk, so you ring the little bell and wait. Tapping your foot, your thoughts wonder.

You’ve been thinking about enrolling into Gotham Academy. It’s risky, since Robin goes there (you looked it up earlier, he’s around the same age as you), but you know that school has damn good funding, and good funding means a good lab. A lab or workshop is essential to you as a Spider.

A hobbling old lady stumbles out towards the front desk, her smile is sweet. “How can I help you, dear?”

You put on your best unassuming smile. “I’d like to sign a lease to rent out an apartment here.”

“Sure, hun. Just give me the deposit and it’s yours.”

You’re taken aback. “Surely it’s not that easy, miss…?” You prompt.

“May. Listen kid,” she leans in. “We don’t ask too many questions ‘round here. I can spot a troubled kid from a mile away.”

Of course her name is May. You smile, awkward. “I’m eighteen.”

“Eighteen is nothing on my years, girl.”

You inhale and grasp your hands together. “Well, I know better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. When can I move in?”

May grabs your arm and leads you up the stairs. “First door on the right, third floor.”

The apartment is in one piece, only some cracks in the walls. There’s a distinct smell in the air, but you’ll make yourself used to it. There’s some furniture left behind by the previous owner (a bed too, but you’re definitely replacing the mattress). It’s quaint, for Gotham.

“I should warn you, a lot of stray cats come and go. Don’t be afraid to feed ‘em, they’re already coming back anyway,” May huffs.

You smile discreetly. “I got it.

“I would’ve thought you’d lose interest in those things by now.”

Growing up you dabbled in one thing to the next. Gymnastics, volleyball, cheerleading. At one point you wanted to go to space camp, but didn’t want to be away from your aunt and uncle. Your interests come and go, never staying long, but your love for comics has always been constant.

“I’ve been fighting for my freedom since day one,” you jest.

Aunt May sits down next to you. “You know how rich I’d probably be if I got all the money back from buying you those things over the years?” She leans in, whispering, “richer than Tony Stark.”

You snort. “No one’s richer than him.” You pause, thinking. “Actually, Bruce Wayne might be.”

“Is that the Manbat guy you’re reading about?”

“ Batman , May.”

She kisses your head, grabbing the comic out of your hands. “Well, you know what they say. Bad kids who don’t go to sleep at bedtime get snatched up by Batman and his bird sidekick.”

You lean back against your pillows, wrapping yourself up in your blanket. “No one says that.”

“I do. Goodnight, tiger.”

The past week you’ve been making moves. You land a job as a waitress in a nice little cafe around the corner, and you’ve settled in nicely into your apartment. You find out May likes her coffee 2 cream no sugar and she religiously watches telenovelas. On top of that, you’ve made friends with a black cat you’ve affectionately named Nari.

“Alright K, show me past entrance exams for Gotham Academy.”

Uploading Karen into the laptop you bought allowed for you to multitask much more efficiently. You’re trying to emulate an environment you’re familiar with, like FRIDAY back at the Tower, but you have nowhere near the same budget as Tony does. You sigh. The entrance exams for GA are in a week, but you’re not too stressed. You started taking online classes when you moved into the Tower, and breezed past them like it was nothing. You graduated high school 2 years earlier than normal (you could’ve done it in one, but Tony insisted on human interaction (even if you only got it at dances and other school events)).

Looking over the options pulled up, you scoff. “This is shockingly easy for such a prestigious school,” you murmur.

“Perhaps you are just more gifted than them, [Name].”

You coo, “always my biggest fan, K.” You close the laptop, not before transferring Karen into an earbud formed from your suits nanites. “I think I got this in the bag.”

The bells on the cafe’s door ring as you enter. “Hey, cutie,” you flirt at your manager, a woman with 3 kids and a husband (but damn if she isn’t fine).

[Name],” they greet dryly. They put the spoon they’re cleaning down. “Sam’s gonna be late, some lunatic died on the tracks and their ride’s been delayed.”

You hum, having gotten used to Gothamites and their disregard for the weird shit that happens in their city. “What an asshole.”

The morning passes slowly. You spot some stressed folks hunched over their laptops and an old red-head guy reading through the morning paper. The door chimes, signaling somebody’s entrance.

“Welcome to Carrie’s, what can I get you?” You drone, not looking up from the game of Crossy Road you’re definitely not supposed to be playing while on shift.

“Just a small vanilla latte, please.”

You hum, typing it up. “And a name for that?” you question, grabbing the small cup. The young man has wind-swept black hair. He’s got big ole blue eyes, the type that remind you of childhood innocence. His stature is casual and unassuming, but you can see the strength he hides under that big sweater he wears. He almost reminds you of–

“Jon,” he smiles kindly.

Jonathan motherfucking Kent goddammit.

You muster every ounce of will you have to prevent your heart from speeding up, lest he hear it. You scribble his name with tactically careful hands. “It’ll be right out, sir.”

Jon huffs goodnaturedly, waving his hand. “Please, you don’t gotta call me sir. Jon is fine, if you’re comfortable.”

You smile, “sure thing, Jon,” and let your eyes widen when you turn around to pass the order to Sam. They look at you odd when you hand them the cup, but make it without a fuss. They’re weirdly good at seeing through people. “Is he real cute or something?” They ask.

You’re not sure if Jon always uses his super hearing. You imagine he doesn’t out of respect and not wanting to intrude, but you know he’s probably always got an ear out for trouble. Even so, you’ll be caught dead before he has the chance to hear you geek over him.

“Mid,” you scoff, like a liar.

Stupid spidey luck, you swear. Maybe this universe is sentient and is out to get you for real. Jon Kent is, by all means, a cute nerd, but he’s also Superboy . With super strength and laser eyes. Maybe you should, like, break into LexCorp or something. Having kryptonite on hand doesn’t sound like a bad idea.

But maybe you’re just getting ahead of yourself. You take a deep breath, relax , you. You’ve got training from the goddamn Avengers . You got this in the bag! No need to jump the gun.

Sam takes the order to the front and calls out, “Small vanilla latte for Jon?” Said Jon walks up to the counter, taking the cup and his eyebrows slightly quirk up. Your super hearing picks up his mutter of, “spelled it right…” as he walks off.

“Nervous for the exam?” Sam hums, messing with your earlobe.

“Nah,” you scoff. “It looks like real easy stuff.” You’re more worried about the kind of kids that go there. You’re not foolish enough to think that everybody will be welcoming to a scholarship kid. You’re just thankful you can afford to not look like you’re living on the streets, ‘cause you’re sure at that point you’ll get bullied relentlessly. Nevertheless, your feelings aren’t so easily hurt.

Sam points a finger at you. “Don’t let nobody bully you, those good-for-nothing rich kids wouldn’t last a day out there in the real world. They probably wouldn’t have gotten in without their parents' money anyway.” They grab your shoulders, looking you in the eye. You raise your brows. “I’ll never forget that you did my college level algebra work for me. Seriously, I’ll start paying you to do my work.”

You take their hands. “It’s not a good idea to cheat through college when you’re trying to be a Vet. Probably.”

“I’m saying that you’re way smarter than those losers. They got nothing on you, babes.”

You smile, winking. “I know.” Their smile is sharp. “What’s your beef with the rich anyway? Besides the fact that they’re cheating at life.” You ignore the fact that you technically were rich, in this life and the last.

“Until Bruce Wayne pays my tuition, rich people are useless. All of ‘em.”

Carrie lets you off early to take your exam, and you’re sent off with encouragement all around. Karen guides you along the way, speaking into your ear. Humming a song under your breath, you almost miss the hand reaching out to grab you. You grip the offender’s wrist and whirl around to face them.

It’s Jon. He’s looking at you with wide-eyes.

You furrow your brows. “The fuck, man? Don’t go grabbing people in Gotham.”

His eyes widen even further, hastily removing his grip around your arm. “I’m sorry! I’m really sorry. I just heard you talking about the entrance exams. For GA right? I know the way, I can show you.”

You look him up and down. “You were listening to my conversation? How? You were, like, across the cafe.”

He sputters. “I didn’t mean to, I swear! I just thought I could…” he hesitates, now realizing how weird this is, “...help. And I have really good hearing. Normally good, anyway.”

You stare at him. How is this absolute loser (loving) Superboy? You chuckle. “You’re definitely not from Gotham, are you?”

He relaxes at your smile. “No, is it obvious?”

“Very.” You hook your arm around his. “Lead the way, hero.”

His face flushes, but ever the gentlemen, he doesn’t shove you off. He actually seems to lean into your touch. “So,” you tut as the two of you begin walking, “where are you from, then?”

“Metropolis. I grew up in Smallville for a while though, know it?”

“Kansas, right?” He nods.

“So, was it my dashing good looks that called your name or a biological need to mate?”

He chokes on nothing. “I mean, normal people don’t approach like you did. I know you’ve never seen a beauty like me, but seriously, this whole thing is kinda creepy,” you hum.

He kind of just stares at you. You stare back, and he breaks and chuckles breathily. “I mean, you are pretty cute,” he flirts. Your brows raise in surprise, smiling pleasantly in surprise. “I don’t know, I just like helping people. I’ve always felt the need to do so.” He trails off in thought. “It’s just… who I am.”

It’s fascinating to see the very essence of Superboy in the flesh. You cough and turn your head away. “Pretty corny, if you ask me. But…” you turn back and look at him. “I get it. I like helping the little guys myself.”

“Little guys?”

“Little guys.”

You stop upon the gates of the school, looming above you dauntingly. You turn to face Jon. “How do I look?” He gives you a scrutinizing look before motioning for you to do a spin. You’re wearing a simple hoodie and sweats with slightly beat-up sneakers. Your clothes don’t have to impress anyone, just your score. He thinks seriously, before nodding.

“Looks good to me.”

You chuckle, walking towards the entrance. “See you around, hero.”

“Your heart is racing, [Name].”

“How about we stop talking for a while.”

He watches you walk off. His eyes watch the sway of your hips before he shakes himself out of it. Then, he groans.

“I forgot to get their name.”

The room is cold and only filled with a few students. Their faces are nervous, and if they aren’t, their demeanor is. They’re obviously middle or lower-class kids. You root for them in your head. They’re also in nicer clothes than you are, whoops.

Like you thought, the test is super easy. You finish it far before anyone else, and sit in silence as the clock ticks. You flick the pencil in your hand around, twirling it. Sooner or later, you’ll have to start finding a way back home. You regret not paying attention when Miguel explained things to you. There’s also that whole particle accelerator thing. You sincerely doubt you’ll be able to build something like that yourself. You don’t have access to that kind of money or material, so you’ll find a way to build a watch. Hobie did it, why can’t you?

“Time’s up.”

You blink. The test proctor makes her way around the room, picking up tests as she goes. She gives you a subtle stink-eye when she makes her way to you, and you look her head on. She huffs and makes her way to the front of the room when she’s done.

“You’ll receive a letter of acceptance or denial in a week’s time.” She emphasizes denial and looks straight at you when she does. What a hater.

You walk out the school feeling light. The sky is still cloudy, as it always is. Then, you’re eyes spot a figure waving at you from outside the gate. It’s Jon. What the fu–

You pause in your tracks as he walks up to you.

“So? How’d it go?”

He meets your incredulous stare. “...what?”

“Were you waiting here the whole time?” The test was 2 hours long!

His eyes widened. “No! I went and did some errands. I just came back like five minutes ago.”

You huff in disbelief. “How’d you know when it would be over?”

“My friend has taken it before.” He probably means Damian.

He offers his arm to you, but you hold out palm. “You’re nice and all, but I’m not letting you know where I live just yet.” He gives you confused puppy eyes. “You’re cute, but not that cute,” you pat his cheek as you walk past him.

He watches you walk past him, before remembering himself and calls out. “What’s your name?”

“Not that cute!” You remind him.

He chuckles in disbelief. He’ll find it out.

notes: i didn't plan for jon to kinda be whipped with reader but i couldnt stop my hands. apologies if he's ooc bc i have not read a single dc comic and all my characterization of him comes through fanfics ive read LOL. i imagine he'd be a little flirty once he get's comfortable with his Superboy mantle.

also he's not like immediately in love with reader or anything, he's just being a teenage boy. he'll get a grip eventually. probably.

karen: why does superboy call you babygirl

reader: how about we stop talking for a little while - jon: how did you know who to spell my name without the h? most people spell it 'john'.

reader: *nervous sweating*

#damian wayne x reader #jon kent x reader #dc x reader #robin x reader #superboy x reader

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menalez · 2 months

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i’m getting spammed with anon hate and i honestly don’t think this place is redeemable so im probs not going to be posting for idk how long. radblr has given me less than nothing. since joining radblr, people have overwhelmingly been unbelievably cruel to me.

my first year on radblr, women 1-2 decades older than me viciously harassed me for asking questions as someone not familiar with certain beliefs held here. these women harassed me for months non-stop, posted my full legal name, posted homes neighbouring where i lived in bahrain, and essentially released my private information. i had to threaten them back just in hopes they would leave me alone, which they didn’t really do. they simply stopped posting my name bc they wanted to make me look like im bad for finding one of their names simply by googling her url (her full name was her twitter username). one of the people in that circle was radicaldumbass, who then came back as macroclit, and again came back as radicalstoner. i moved on but i haven’t forgotten.

then, black-diaspora repeated the same thing. she posted pictures of my mother and led people to finding my mom's facebook. to this day, i still get anons with my mother’s name and my sister’s name. my sister was about 13 when anons first started sending me her name in threatening anons. somehow, black-diaspora was rewritten as a victim of mine despite her being repeatedly racist & lesbophobic to me & posting my mom’s info.

i was being abused by my ex-gf and women on here literally picked my abuse apart and enabled TRAs like lostelvenqueen to make up lies that i was the one abusing my abuser. that vicious lie was reiterated for 4 years. while being abused, women on radblr were mocking me for needing money when my ex-girlfriend was actively stealing from me at the time. to this day people use against me the fact that i needed help in that time bc some mutuals helped finance 2 dinners & my medication, all of which i either paid them back for or drew art as payment.

then, again, another woman dug through an old blog i ran as a teenager and found some posts here and there to make it seem like i, as a 15 and 16 year old, definitely loved being totally controlled by someone and physically abused whenever i didn’t follow his exact commands. i spoke openly about this trauma years prior to this person “exposing” me & arguing that i actually wanted that abuse by pointing to random innocuous posts and forming a story out of it. i think every abuse victim can imagine how difficult it is to still face trauma from something and instead of being allowed to heal, having it brought up to you several days a week to taunt you and having “feminists” tell you that you actually wanted it and are lying when you say otherwise. to this day, i get daily anons mentioning my name because this woman also put my legal name out there.

women here have put me in physical danger, they have made up the vilest lies about me, they’ve called me racial slurs, they’ve been outright racist to me, they’ve speculated about my rape & abuse, they’ve joked about lynching me, they’ve questioned things as minuscule as what i had for dinner. and despite that, i haven’t returned that same treatment. i remained relatively consistent, i simply criticised what i thought was wrong and provided evidence to my statements.

i made some nice friends on here & i’ll keep talking to them. but i’m going to be reevaluating why i’m wasting my time in a space that has overwhelmingly caused me stress, a space where countless unbelievable lies have been spun about me and a place where people have said & done the vilest things and in the end, i was always framed as a bad person based on half-truths or outright lies. now, people falsely claim that women who unfollow me or block me risk having their private information exposed, when i have met at least a dozen women from radblr and run a server with hundreds of women from radblr, have seen hundreds of faces, and have never exposed such information even if we end up disliking each other. i could tolerate many ridiculous lies, but why should i? i’m pretty fed up of tolerating this.

enjoy spinning this however you want and lying about me further. idk when i’ll be back or if i’ll want to be back. it’s pretty clear to me that this space prioritises lesbophobes & racists (& sometimes even downright misogynists) over people who calmly criticise it. i joined this space initially bc i thought it was somewhere where i could freely be a lesbian without being hassled for it, but radblr doesn’t even offer that anymore.

#if sth posts from my blog there’s a big chance it’s my queue #bye

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budbuddnbuddy · 9 months

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Little obey me headcanons (pt4)

(Pt5)

A/N: This probably like the second longest series of writing I’ve done fanfic wise. Lol anyway same stuff is here. Headcaons and world building, maybe once I get everything done with the masterlist I’ll show you guys my MC’s (yes I have 2 MC’s in the same verse) but I’m still not sure. Let me know what y’all think. Happy new year!!!

Everyone is super nosy about your life in the human world, some are more obvious and pushy then others but regardless they still want to know about every detail of your life, what kind of job do you have? What’s your family like? Do you live in acountryside or in City? Where’s your workplace? What’s your address? What’s your full legal name? What’s your blood type? Do you own any pets! Tell them all about it.

The Devildom and the Celestial realm have small populations. Devildom:50 million+ Celestial realm:45 million+ mainly because lots of people would rather not have kids because it would probably get in the way of what they were doing in their lives currently however it’s not uncommon to see families out and about. Nobles are the main ones who have families in the devildom.

Do you think that like a week after Diavolo was born his father did that lion king thing that Royal family does whenever they have another kid? Just basically raising him up for everyone to see? 💀

As I’ve said before Mammon has a great ass, you can’t help but grab it anytime you can, just coming up behind him and grabbing his cheek. It mainly happens in your room, both of y’all are laying in your bed with him on top of you resting his head on your chest and you’ll just unconsciously reach down and give it a squeeze. He used to loudly whine about it but he secretly loves it lmao.

When it comes to relationships and Virginity, I feel like I have a pretty decent grasp on who’s had what and who hasn’t.

Relationship+Experience: Lucifer Mammon Asmodeus Barbatos Solomon

Relationship+Virgin: Beelzebub Satan

No Relationship+ Experience: Belphegor only like twice though cuz I fucking hate him [affectionate]

Neither: Leviathan, Diavolo

Diavolo kin’s Pops from regular show unironically.

If you ever heard about the Mariko Aoki phenomenon good but if not it’s basically the need to take a crap in bookstores however if you leave before you do then the feeling goes away. Whenever you go into Satan’s room you automatically get the urge to take a shit, you haven’t told him about it the confused look on his face is too funny. 💀

Speaking of Poop. If any of the brothers can’t get into the bathrooms available on their floor/rooms they’ll come down to your room and ask if they can use your bathroom which you used to be fine with AT FIRST however you eventually banned them from coming into your bathroom because Beel took a massive shit in your toilet and it stunk up your bathroom for DAYS and Lemme tell ya, handling demon shits from GROWN ASS MEN are not for the weak.

“Phew…Thanks for letting me use your bathroom, MC.”

“No problem Beel I-“ *Turns into fucking dust*

Okay that’s not what happened but you did pass out. Beelzebub did say sorry and bought you a cupcake as compensation so I guess it’s okay for now, still not allowed to use your bathroom though.

#You can’t tell me that Beel doesn’t have the worlds worst shits #obey me #obey me x reader #obey me shall we date #obey me!#obey me beelzebub #obey me diavolo #mammon #obey me asmodeus #obey me mc #obey me x mc #obey me simeon #obey me leviathan #obey me! shall we date?#obey me satan

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seresinhangmanjake · 1 year

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And, Honey, I’ll Make It All Okay

Dad!Jake “Hangman” Seresin x female reader

Summary: Jake might be getting used to his mother being around you and his baby girl, but he still had zero interest in allowing his father within a hundred miles of his family. Sometimes, though, things happen that aren’t in his control, despite how desperately he needs them to be.

Warnings: Alcohol, hints of alcoholism and past abuse (not physical), cursing. Protective Seresins working together like the damn power rangers.

Notes: Suggested by an anon / Part of the Oh, Baby Universe. A follow up to It’s What You Make It

Words: 4060

------

“So, this little one is a Seresin, huh?”

Jake looked up from the book in his lap—the one he’d bought when he realized he was two whole months behind you in parenting knowledge and felt a desperation to catch up quickly before he ruined his daughter's childhood. He set it aside, meeting his mother's raised brow.

“I was told you legally changed her name,” she continued as she bounced Eve on her lap, gentle jolts up and down making the girl giggle.

The memory of his birthday present that held within it so many promises of the future you’d share was still strong. He thought of it every morning, loving how it entered his mind like clockwork the second he looked down at your sleeping face beside him. You were in it with him for the long haul—you and Eve—and you’d made it so wonderfully known in a way that could not be outdone.

Jake smiled, not just at the reminder of your gift, but for many reasons. For the happiness on his daughter’s face as she sat with her grandmother, for the ease with which you and his mother got along, for the way she proved to so seamlessly blend into his family over the last four days. He smiled because he had every right to. Just as he had every right not to tell her about his daughter’s change of name.

Despite obviously gaining your trust, she had yet to fully gain his. He wanted to let that door stay open, but she’d be back in Texas within a day, and there was no guarantee she could keep his secrets upon her return home. And if his father knew the choice made over Eve’s name, he wouldn’t be able to keep himself away.

That was the last thing Jake needed. The last thing you needed.

“Yea,” he said, swallowing, sitting up a bit straighter in the leather armchair. “We did.”

“Anyone else’s name you plan to change soon?”

Jake hesitated. He hadn’t planned to tell his parents. Not about any of it. Not where or how or when he chose to propose. Not about the ring he had made months ago. Not about his wedding, his marriage. Not anything about the details of his life after the bridge they’d set aflame. And he still wasn’t sure his mother had earned the knowledge, but Jake couldn’t deny how obvious he made his intentions without so much as uttering a single word about it. He wanted you, forever, and not a soul with two eyes would think otherwise.

“Um—I’m working on it.”

“Do you have a ring?”

“I do.”

“Good.” His mother gave a firm nod. “She’s perfect for you.”

That was an understatement, he thought. It was not enough. Perfect for him, truly, but somehow more, too.

Shaking his head, he said, “She’s everything. She and my baby girl are absolutely everything.”

His mother was silent. Her wide grin traveled from her son to the girl in her arms when a tiny hand reached high to touch her cheek.

“Sweet girl,” she sighed, taking the little hand in hers.

Eve was the first to accept his mother.

From the moment their eyes connected a bond was formed that Jake could never fairly break, whether he eventually learned to give his complete trust to his mother or not. Though Eve was so young, there was no doubt in Jake’s mind that she would feel the absence of his mother if they were no longer in one another’s lives. But maintaining that relationship would come with conditions—requirements—mostly along the lines of keeping his father away from you and Eve at all times, in every way possible.

Of course, there was an additional possibility; one his Gram had suggested despite it going against the will of her own son. And you hadn’t argued it, instead leaving the choice to him. A choice that once offered, he really couldn’t go back on. But it was also an opportunity that if taken would actually mean something—a massive leap in the right direction.

Jake leaned forward in the chair, resting his elbows on the tips of his knees and clasping his hands. They wrung slowly, nerves exposed through the subtle act.

“Mom,” he began. He sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and nibbled lightly on the chapped skin. She took her eyes off the girl. He released his lip. “You should stay,” he finally said.

There was a brief flash across her irises. She was just as surprised at hearing his suggestion as he was when deciding to speak it. Her lips quirked a tad, but a moment later they fell back into their natural line, the slight downturned shape making the pinch between her brows seem all the more disheartening.

“Sweetheart…” She sighed again before hugging her granddaughter closer.

“Let me help you. I can find you a place close by,” he said, finding himself rushing his words from a sudden need to convince her. “You and Dad separated once. You can—”

“Jake, stop.” She stood fast, sharply, impressively without stirring Eve, and closed the few steps between her spot on the couch and Jake’s chair. Carefully handing the infant over, she said, “I think I’ll find your Gram and take her to lunch.”

Her voice was meek on that last bit, too much like her approach with him days before when she showed up out of nowhere begging to be a part of his life. She smoothed the nonexistent wrinkles of her skirt and turned on her heel.

“Just think about it,” Jake said to her back, and from her stuttered step he knew she heard him. “Alright?”

She said nothing. And walked on.

—

You’d been itching to get him alone all day. Jake saw it in your consistent stare that wandered from his grandmother to him whenever he was in range of his mother. But his Gram had occupied your time—his mother Eve’s—and he wasn’t able to give you the chance to drag him away like you had so clearly wanted. In your shared room, though, nothing kept the two of you apart. And while Jake had plans—plans that would definitely require him holding his hand over your mouth from your inability to keep quiet (which, without his mother and grandmother in his house, he would’ve loved)---you had other ideas.

“Did you ask?”

His brow arched at the childlike curiosity you were trying to contain; at how you were a fraction away from bouncing on your toes in anticipation for the answer. Not with excitement, but with an anxious intensity that seeped through the innocence of your question. He nodded. “She didn’t give me an answer.”

And in that same childlike theme, your face fell into a pout. You sighed and plopped down on the mattress, the nightie that barely covered your mid-thighs rising higher. Jake’s fingers twitched to slide along the smooth expanse of skin, but you sighed again and your hands slapped down on those thighs in some odd form of defeat that Jake didn’t understand, and he couldn’t help but notice the distress on your face.

His mind switched within an instant. Your worry his worry. And he crouched in front of you, taking one of your hands in his.

“Honey, what’s wrong?”

You shook your head but he didn’t buy it.

“You really want her to stay?” He examined your face. The frown, the pinched brows, the bitten lip. It was not a look he ever cared to see. “Why so badly?”

You rose quickly, unintentionally knocking him off kilter. You reached a hand out to help steady him, which he took and refused to release even as you tried to begin your pacing. It was only one step that you took before Jake twisted you, wrapping you in his arms to calm you down.

“Honey…”

You were staring up at him, waiting; for what, he didn’t know, but he waited just the same. Until you were ready.

“Jake, with Eve I felt so alone. I had her and I loved her so much—so much—but my mother wasn’t easy on me. Living with her wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted to be with you. I wanted my family to be with you. And I just…” You took a breath, looking away from him. His knuckle under your chin made gazes lock again. “I see that in your mother,” you continued. “She’s told me about your dad, and I thought if she had the choice she would stay here, with us…with Eve.”

The tenseness in his shoulders from your distress loosened a tad. “It was your idea? I thought—”

You shrugged. “Your Gram knows your mother better than I do. I figured if she was the one to mention the idea then you’d be more likely to consider it.”

He couldn’t find his words. Jake's heartbeat sped at a pace he instantly recognized. The pace he'd felt when he first saw you behind the bar at the Hard Deck. The same pace when you walked into Rooster's house with Eve. The pace that told him he was in love with you, then and now.

He pulled you closer, and with a hand sliding behind your neck, he kissed you. You squeaked into the unexpectedness before settling into it, letting your fingers curl into the fabric of his t-shirt at his waist. Jake was thorough, savoring. Your lips sweet against his, tongue lightly teasing, hand weaving into your hair the way he knew you liked. He wanted to give you everything in that kiss. Because in you was that “more” he wasn’t quite able to explain. Perfect for him…but somehow more. It was the part of you that other people didn’t have. The part that took on responsibilities that weren't yours, and tried to protect people that hadn’t done the same for you. A kindness that was so fucking rare. So unbelievable.

You broke the kiss well before he was ready, a question on your face.

“I love you," he said, cupping your jaw, thumbs stroking your cheeks. He shook his head, like he always did when he paused for a moment to take in his life. Never would he have imagined the luck that had washed over him. The luck to have found you, to have you want him as much as he did you, to share a daughter with you. Jake wasn’t known for picturing much of a future with any woman until he saw you, and the very idea of not having met was a tight knot in his chest. It was impossible now. No one could go back in time and change the course set, but even the thought of what might not have been was too much for him to take. "You are so—"

A knock on a door silenced him.

Jake counted three seconds and the sound repeated. He hadn’t misheard.

His hands fell away from your face as both your heads whipped to the bedroom door.

His daughter was asleep—that was his first concern. His baby girl was trying to get her rest and that booming through the walls of the house might've been enough to wake her.

Then he recalled the hour.

"Who in the—"

"Stay here," Jake ordered as he stepped toward the door, a hand extended behind him, palm up and facing you to try to stop what he knew was coming.

"No way." You were already tying the strings of your silk robe at your waist.

He sighed, looking back. "Honey—"

"No."

It boomed again.

Jake winced, waiting for the high-pitched wails from down the hall. They didn't come so he left the room and began down the stairs with you at his heels.

"Will you at least stay in the kitchen?"

"No, Jake."

"Jesus, woman,” he huffed. The hall?"

He could feel your glare at the back of his head. "...Fine."

"Thank you."

That created at least twenty paces between you and whatever was on the other side of that door. He wouldn't be able to get you any farther away, so that would have to do.

The noise grew louder with each bang—a beast trying to break through the door as Jake walked closer and wrapped his fingers around the knob. A piece of him screamed to turn back, pretend it wasn't there until it went away, but the territorial part in him said this was his house, his woman, his baby, his family, and he wasn’t going to be hiding in his own home.

He eased it open just the slightest. But even that was too much.

His father shoved his way into the house in such a flash of movement that there wasn’t time to react. Jake stumbled, his back hitting hard against the wall. He grunted and looked up. His father stood still, chest rising and falling heavily under a tailored, buttoned jacket while his eyes scanned over the length of you.

Jake didn't have a second to take in the shock of his father's presence. He shifted into defense. "Don't you dare look at her," he growled.

His father gestured lazily in your direction before meeting Jake's murderous stare. "Your whore, I'm guessing?"

The hitch of your breath practically echoed, the soft whisper somehow strong enough to bounce off the walls.

Jake instantly felt the shame of it; of failing to keep the secret of his father's disgusting opinions from revealing. And that sound that left your throat cracked his heart right down the middle.

His father tsked. "So transparent."

Jake stepped forward and slammed his hand into the older man's shoulder, forcing his stance away from you and towards him. "Get the fuck out of my house."

"Nope," he chuckled, or something mildly akin. It was sloppy, jumbled together. An odd sound barely recognizable as a laugh.

And then Jake could see it. He could hear it. Could practically feel it. "You've been drinking," he said.

"Airlines are generous for men like me; you know that. Now, I'm here for your mother." He cupped his hands around his mouth. Took a deep breath. "Eliza!"

"Jake…"

Your voice quivered, drawing Jake's eye. Eve began sobbing upstairs from the incessant screams of his mother's name. Panic coursed through his veins at a rapid rate.

"Honey, go to Eve."

"But—"

"Please," he begged, but you hesitated. "Honey, please."

You'd barely made a move before his mother was walking into the room, her granddaughter tucked in her arms and mother-in-law following behind. His mother's face didn't alter at the sight

of her husband.

"Here," she said, handing you a hiccupping, wet-faced Eve. "She needs her mother."

She made her way down the hall and smiled sadly when she reached Jake. Her hand rested on his bicep and she lightly squeezed. "And they need you." She nudged her head in your direction.

"Mom—"

"Go to your family. This is not your responsibility."

Jake glanced at his father; at the smug look on his face ever so slightly veiled by an alcohol-induced haze.

Looking back at his mother, he said, "It's not yours, either."

"We're leaving, Eliza."

His father was growing impatient, and his mother continued on as though she wasn't concerned with the ticking time bomb just feet away from her. She was, as usual, handling him the way she did best. Calmly. Cleverly. A true professional in an art no one would ever have ambitions to hone.

She nudged Jake over until he relented and did as she asked. "John," she sighed, turning to him, "you do not want to be arrested in a different state. You'll be fired within the week."

"You're not calling the police."

"Jake will," she replied. "He won't give it a second thought. You're scaring his family."

"His family." Jake's father scoffed, crossing his arms. "An insignificant woman and a child that isn't his."

Your eyes snapped up to Jake's and he hugged you tighter, Eve nestled between your bodies. He knew he'd have to explain it all because you'd undoubtedly demand it of him. And he owed you that, at the very least. Even though the very thought of speaking it aloud stirred his stomach and made him wish there was something, anything, he could sacrifice in return for not having to tell you. He’d willingly snap one of his own bones if it meant he didn’t have to see your face twist in pain and anger and shame, but it was too late for that.

"She's his, John," his mother insisted. "And you need to go."

"Then get your things."

"I'm staying."

"The hell you are!"

It was then that Gram shot herself out from the sideline, a short ball of fiery fury, hands clenched at her sides. "Enough!"

Jake’s father squinted as if there were a true flame assaulting his vision, but when his altered brain caught up with him, his eyes widened, his head jerked back, he stared at his own mother like he was seeing her for the very first time. As he was, Jake understood then. His father hadn’t sensed her there amidst the scene he was making.

Jake didn’t know how his father came to learn of where his wife had gone, but he clearly hadn’t expected the same betrayal from the woman who raised him. And such an older man—a man who had always embodied power and force, determination and demand—was just barely restraining himself from shrinking where he stood.

“I tried so hard,” Gram said, practically shaking, from anger or angst Jake couldn’t say, “to keep you from being like this. I didn’t want you to be like him. I tried so hard and I failed so greatly, and I don’t know how, because I put everything I had into it,” Tears were streaming down her cheeks, one of them dropping onto the hardwood floor. She sniffled. “Jake is not like you, or the men who came before you. And thank god he has always been strong enough to keep you from ruining that.” You buried your face into Jake’s neck as she spoke. “He’s a protector; He does his job. And I will do mine. So you aren’t taking anyone home, I am taking you home.”

Shock fell across her son’s face too quickly to have the chance to be concealed. His lips parted, then they curved to form words. “You don’t—”

“Jake, dear,” his Gram started, head turned to the side to help carry her voice over her shoulder, “Would you call us a car? Surely there is still one available at this hour.”

You took a sudden step forward and Jake instinctually wrapped his fingers around your arm to keep you and his daughter close. “Eve, we aren’t going to let you sit in an airport until you find a flight back to Texas,” you said.

“Eliza I and were leaving first thing in the morning anyway. We will take her ticket. She will stay. We will go.”

“I’m not going anywhere!” Jake’s father snapped. He hadn’t bothered to notice his wife making her way closer to their son. He hadn’t so much as glanced at his new granddaughter. Jake wasn’t surprised. His father rarely paid attention to anything. Giving something attention meant acknowledging it was real which meant deciding whether or not to care. He didn’t care. He never did. And it had been decades since much attention had been paid to anything other than himself and the control he refused to relinquish.

“Then Jake can call the cops instead,” Gram stated. The tears were gone, dried in lengthy lines down her face, but her tone conveyed her heartbreak. “As your mother, that is not what I would prefer, but one way or another you are leaving this house. Tonight.” She inhaled, expelling the heaviest of sighs through her nose. “So, what is it going to be, son?”

—

He watched you from the doorway as you leaned over your daughter’s crib, brushing her wispy hairs out of her face before running your finger softly along the plush cheek. You hadn’t said a word when his Gram and father left. You let him kiss your temple and the top of his baby girl’s head, then you were slipping from his arms to put your child back to sleep as if the night were any other.

Jake felt lost in the mess—everything he didn’t want you to witness accompanied by the man he never wanted you to meet. The man he came from that he was terrified would make you question just who the father of your daughter might be capable of one day becoming. It would kill him…losing you. Like pliers yanking out chunks of his heart bit by bit until he was left with nothing.

You finally straightened your spine and Jake stepped up behind you, curling his arms around your waist and pulling your back flush against his chest. Need your touch, he thought. As much of your body against his as could be managed. Your hand settled on his forearm when he began to press slow, gentle kisses from your jaw to your neck to your shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered between each meeting of lips and skin. “I’m so sorry.”

Leaning your head back into his shoulder, eyelids closing, you said, “It wasn’t your fault.”

“He came into our home. Insulted you. Scared our daughter.” His hold on you tightened. He inhaled you. “I swore to myself I wouldn’t let anything like that happen.”

Your eyes opened and your head lifted and you met his close gaze. “Baby, we’re alright,” you swore. “We’re safe.”

He wanted to shake his head.

“Look at her,” you said, shifting your line of vision to the baby girl in her crib. “She’s safe. She’s perfect.”

“And you?”

Lightly chuckling, you said, “Intact, if you can’t tell.”

Any other day, he would’ve laughed with you. He would have smiled. He would’ve kissed you and taken your teasing for unintentionally getting carried away. He would’ve led you back to your shared bedroom and you’d have fallen atop the mattress and continued kissing and stripping clothes, and you’d get lost in enjoying one another as you so often easily did.

But this wasn’t any other day.

“I’m not like him,” Jake whispered. “I won’t ever be.”

Despite his hold on you, you spun harshly in his arms. Your brow furrowed. Anger? Confusion? He guessed both. “No, you won’t,” you stressed. “That goes without saying, Jake.”

When he didn't respond, your hands cupped his cheeks. “Jake, I know you better than anyone. Had that man not shared your eyes, I would never have believed you came from him. Do you understand me?"

Your soft palms, warm and gentle, and your sweet words, nice and thick like a coating of honey over his body, completely threw him off the edge of the cliff he’d been teetering on all night. His nose stung. His eyes felt pressure under the threat of tears. So many tears were shed in his home in such a short period of time. A new one escaped and your face shattered.

“Oh, baby,” you cooed, swiping the droplet away with your thumb. “Come here.”

You unraveled yourself from him and he hated it, but then you took his hand and encouraged his steps closer to the crib. Reaching in, you lifted your sleeping daughter, nestling her against your breast. “Kiss our girl,” you said, “Because she’s safe.”

Jake sniffed and swallowed and leaned down to press a long kiss to Eve’s forehead. You nodded and returned her to her little bed, then took his hand again and led him to your bedroom. When you closed the door you faced him, dropped your robe, and walked back into his space, into the cocoon of his arms.

“Now kiss me.” Your voice was low in the nonexistent space between you. But there was a neediness woven through the words. A neediness he understood incredibly well. “Because I’m safe.”

Lips met. Your arms circled his neck. His fingers slipped under the hem of the silken fabric you wore, thin material rising as his hands moved further up your body. More skin, that’s all he wanted. Just…more.

When you pulled back, he rested his forehead on yours.

“We’re always safe with you Jake,” you muttered. "And we won’t forget it."

----

A/N: Turn on notifications for this blog or @seresinhangmanjake-library if you would like to keep up with my writing :)

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun maverick #dad!jake seresin #dad!jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin fanfic #jake seresin fic #jake seresin fanfiction #hangman top gun #tgm fic #tgm #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin x female!reader #jake seresin x f!reader #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin angst

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judasofsuburbia · 10 months

Text

could be something as simple as this || argyle week day two: favorite tropes

rating: teen and up || pairing: argyle/jonathan || word count: 1951 || read on ao3 here

day two of @argyledaily 's argyle week: favorite tropes (friends to lovers)

“That’s gonna be us one day,” Argyle whispers in Jonathan’s ear.

Jonathan chokes on his own spit. “What?”

“That,” Argyle gestures to Hopper and Joyce holding hands as they read their vows.

Jonathan stares at him with a look so incredulous while a smile tugs at the edge of his lips.

“It’s not legal,” Jonathan points out, still keeping his voice down enough to not disturb the ceremony.

Argyle glances his way and smirks, “Sorry, are we law-abiding citizens now?”

“We’re not dating,” Jonathan counters with a whisper.

“I like how that was your second thought,” Argyle responds, his smirk growing wider.

“I‒” Jonathan stutters and shakes his head. “You’re messing with me.”

“I’m not,” Argyle says simply.

“What makes you think we’re getting married?” Jonathan asks. Not in a cruel or mean way, based on the blush lighting up his whole face.

Argyle shrugs, “I just know.”

Jonathan watches him with that same questioning look for the rest of the ceremony and into the reception but doesn’t refuse when Argyle offers his hand for a dance. Jonathan thinks for a moment that they’ll do some kind of exaggerated, stupid dance to offset all the couples on the floor but instead, Argyle pulls him in close, clasps their hands together, and holds his lower back firm and steady. Slowly twirls him around the floor in smooth movements. Jonathan laughs for a little while but soon, he’s in deep. Allowing himself to be held and maybe romanced for the first time in a long time.

It’s not like anyone’s staring at them, they’re around all their closest friends and family.

“Where did you learn to dance like this?” Jonathan asks, a little breathless.

“My parents,” Argyle says. “They loved dancing around the living room when they would come home from date nights. My sister and I would watch from the banister when we were supposed to be in bed.”

“Did you ever get caught?”

Argyle smiles fondly, “Almost every time but it was worth it.”

The song cascades into another slow song and Argyle hasn’t let go so Jonathan won’t either. It’s really nice if he’s being honest.

“You’re good on your feet.”

“I know, dude,” Argyle says with a righteous huff. “It’s what will make me a good husband… amongst other things.”

Jonathan ducks his head and laughs but doesn’t quip back. He knows he hasn’t had enough champagne to make everything feel so floaty around him. He chalks it up to it being a long day of celebrating but the fluttering of his stomach when Argyle tightens his hold on his back would beg to differ.

The next wedding they attend is for one of Argyle’s uncles. Jonathan is a little surprised to be asked to tag along as his plus one but he doesn’t protest. He loves Argyle’s family and they love him.

Again during the ceremony, Argyle whispers, “That’s going to be us one day.”

They hadn’t brought up Joyce and Hopper’s wedding since it happened: The way they danced that entire reception, Argyle's simple declaration, nothing. Everything felt as it had been.

Although, they had become roommates in the interim. They shared meals. They shared a bathroom. They shared laughter and heartache. They shared blunts on a couch that was picked up from the side of the road. They shared their independence from adolescence.

But they were still just best friends.

Jonathan peeks around to make sure no one’s paying attention to them.

“You don’t think we’ll find anyone else?” Jonathan whispers.

Argyle tilts his head from side to side. “I don’t really want to. Do you?”

Jonathan blinks at him, opens his mouth a few times to say something, but ultimately doesn’t. They return their attention to the ceremony.

They don’t slow dance together at this reception and Jonathan tries to swallow his disappointment with a few fingers of bourbon. Not that he doesn’t have a good time letting loose with Argyle’s family and celebrating but there’s this tug in his chest the entire night. He's not sure where it came from.

He wonders if Argyle feels it too.

They’re in the elevator on the way back to their shared hotel room when Jonathan blurts out, “You think we’re getting married?”

Argyle gives him a lazy grin. “ I do , man.”

They both start giggling at the double entendre and the elevator door opens to their floor. They stumble sleepily to the door and get inside. Argyle starts to get ready for bed until Jonathan tugs on his arm.

Argyle raises his eyebrows in a silent question.

“You’re gonna marry me someday but you’ve never kissed me.” Jonathan meant this more as a question than a statement but he does his best to stand tall and not back away from his feelings. Whatever his feelings might be right now, he's not entirely sure.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” Argyle mumbles.

Jonathan hasn’t really thought this far but finds himself nodding before he can think otherwise.

Argyle takes a step closer, shaking Jonathan’s grip on his arm to hold his hand instead.

Jonathan intertwines their fingers, inhales and all he smells is Argyle, Argyle, Argyle .

“Are you going to remember me kissing you?” Argyle whispers, his breath hitting Jonathan’s face.

Jonathan checks in with himself. He’s not as crossfaded as he is just exhausted from the day. He can’t think of how he wouldn’t remember something like this.

Jonathan nods.

Argyle kisses him so tenderly and sweet that it makes his heart burst behind his ribs. Still, Jonathan kisses back and soon they’re up against the door. Jonathan’s free hand reaches up to hold the side of Argyle’s throat while Argyle’s free hand holds Jonathan’s waist.

Argyle finds he likes the way their slight stubbles rub against each other. He likes the way Jonathan smiles into kisses like he’s just happy to be included. He likes the way Jonathan presses up against him like he can’t wait to get closer.

They eventually stop kissing a little after subtle tongue and teeth have been involved. Argyle kisses either cheek and steps back. He observes the hazy look in Jonathan's eyes when they open, huffs an amused sound through his nose and walks off to the bathroom.

“Thoughts? Comments? Concerns?” Argyle calls out.

Jonathan is frozen against the door, holding a shaky hand to his lips. “Uh,” Jonathan calls out. “Good.”

“Glad to hear it,” Argyle says with his head popped out the door. He closes the door and Jonathan hears the shower running.

Jonathan slowly changes into his pajamas, still shaky and mushy from that damn good kiss. He eyes the bed he was supposed to sleep in with disdain and decides that he’s going to crawl under Argyle’s sheets instead.

Jonathan’s out like a light within minutes. Argyle exits the bathroom in just some boxers and crawls in beside him. He kisses the top of Jonathan’s head and wraps his arms around him. Jonathan snuggles into his warm, freshly cleaned body, tucking his head into his neck.

Jonathan does remember the kiss the next day and wants more. Argyle is happy to give them to him.

A few years later, Max and Lucas are getting married. Argyle and Jonathan have been dating since the last wedding so Jonathan’s not caught as off-guard when, like clockwork, Argyle leans in to whisper, “That’s gonna be us one day.”

Jonathan squeezes the hand that’s resting on his shoulder, tangling their fingers together.

“Do you want a big ceremony like this?” Jonathan asks.

“Hmm,” Argyle hums. “Maybe something more lowkey.”

“Courthouse?”

Argyle’s face scrunches up. “I don’t like government buildings.”

“Church?”

“Do you believe in God?” Argyle asks with a disbelieving look.

Jonathan chuckles under his breath. “Sure don’t.”

“We’ll find somewhere just for us,” Argyle promises.

Jonathan smiles and kisses the square of his jaw. “We will.”

At this wedding, Jonathan and Argyle can dance the entire time. They can dip and kiss and be wrapped up in each other’s arms. Argyle even lets Jonathan lead a few of their dances, though he’s garbage at it. They can allow themselves to feel the gushy romantic feelings when people give their speeches and when they see the way Lucas and Max look at each other.

Towards the end of the night while people are calling cabs and giving long, midwestern goodbyes, Argyle and Jonathan are seated at their table, messing with the ice in their empty drinks. Argyle holds out his hand and Jonathan places his hand in his.

“I don’t think I can do another dance,” Jonathan says with a yawn. “Plus I think the DJ is packing up for the night.”

Argyle quietly turns Jonathan’s hand so his ring finger is out. Argyle ties the paper from his straw around the finger in a little knot and kisses it gently. Jonathan’s breath is taken away.

“A placeholder,” Argyle explains with a soft smile.

“If you say so.”

“I’ve been saying so,” Argyle teases.

Jonathan picks up his straw wrapper and does the same to Argyle’s ring finger. Kisses it gently and everything. Whispers, “Then I’m saying so too.”

The promise is made at every wedding for the next few years. The whispered dialogue during the ceremony, the paper rings, the closeness during slow dances. Sealing it and sealing it over and over.

It’s not a Surfer Boy Pizza van anymore, but rather the lookalike van Argyle bought himself after he quit working there. The hunk of junk that holds his entire heart. Jonathan and him drive it all over the country, fluff it up with pillows and a camping mattress, and sleep under the stars. They’re currently in Mexico on a beach, watching the sun start to set behind the miles of the bluest ocean water you’ve ever seen. Jonathan is busy unwrapping their food from the restaurant down the street when Argyle clears his throat.

Jonathan looks up and sees Argyle holding a ring box. He lamely sets the cardboard tins of food behind him and gives Argyle his full attention.

“Jonathan Byers,” Argyle starts, “The most radical dude in the entire universe. Will you do me the honors of being my husband?”

Argyle opens the ring box and it’s stunning.

“When did you‒?” Jonathan asks.

“While you got dinner. Found this adorable little jewelry vendor when we were walking around yesterday and told her to hold onto this for me. I got myself one too but…” Argyle looks at him pointedly, his dark eyes vulnerable and pleading for an answer.

“Yes, dude, yes, of course,” Jonathan laughs, leaning in to kiss him sweetly.

Argyle slides the ring onto his finger and kisses the knuckle. Jonathan slides the other ring onto Argyle’s finger and another laugh bubbles out of him.

“All those years ago, at Joyce and Hopper’s wedding, how did you know?”

“Know what?”

“That we were gonna get married.”

“I didn’t,” Argyle admits. “I just wanted it to happen.”

“But you were so confident,” Jonathan admires. “So sure I’d say yes.”

“I was never sure of that,” Argyle explains. “I just thought if I said it enough, maybe one day, you’d feel the same way. I never really expected you to. I was just a hopeful man.”

“I mean, you threw me for a loop but then, you did start to make some sense. I was starting to think maybe I didn’t want anyone else. Then you kissed me and it was all over,” Jonathan admits bashfully, leaning his head on Argyle’s shoulder.

“So my plan worked,” Argyle states with a confident smile.

“It did, you relentless bastard,” Jonathan sighs as Argyle hugs him close and peppers his face with wet, smacking, ridiculous kisses.

#emily writes #argyle #jargyle #jonathan byers #stranger things #jargyle ficlets #jargyle fics #stranger things fics #stranger things ficlets #argyledaily #argyle fics

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kaelidascope · 4 months

Text

Fandom and LGBTQ Hostility and My Experiences Trying to Exist in Both Spaces Online

I came into these spaces with a very strict rule that I would not react or do anything cancel-worthy out of an overabundance of caution. Digital footprints are dangerous. The things you say online will follow you around forever. I know that first hand. I’ve bottled up and stayed silent about a lot of things I’ve either witnessed first-hand or experienced because I was trying to maintain a clean online persona. I’m not an ‘airing out dirty laundry’ type person.

In light of recent events however, it’s gotten so bad that I can no longer sit here and not say something about how I feel. I’m disappointed and frustrated with the experiences I’ve had both in fandom and LGBTQ+ spaces and I can’t be complacent. I’m tired of getting treated like this, I’m fed up and I’m not going to put up with it anymore. I feel it’s important I voice what I’ve been watching and what’s happened and how I’m not going to tolerate it anymore by calling it out first hand.

This is a two-topic rant. They overlap in some instances, but it directly has to do with how fandoms behave in general towards each other on Twitter and Tumblr, and also how absolutely hostile LGBTQ+ individuals are nowadays to each other on the same platforms.

I come from a different generation and a different social media platform. I wasn’t on Twitter and Tumblr until last year. I’m not dismissing the fact that I may have missed out on decades worth of culture and social expectation. The places where I come from aren’t exactly fantastic either, but at least here, more queer people are interacting with each other with shared interests much more widely than in places like DeviantArt. The amount of culture and information I’ve absorbed in one year is more than I ever had within the past twenty years. It should be a good thing, and I’m disappointed that it wasn’t.

This is not the way I wanted to come out online to anyone. I’ve been figuring out where I sit on the gender and sexuality spectrum for a while now. I will not document a specific timeline for anyone because that’s nobody’s business but my own. Within the last year, I took a massive stride forward in exploring things I legally didn’t think I was allowed to. I expected backlash from cishets and the usual thing I see LGBTQ+ folks write essays over, about how the world hates us, but at least we have each other. Shockingly, the backlash didn’t come from straight people. It came from other queers.

I am 27 years old and I am entirely self-sufficient. I’m mixed Puerto Rican living in a red state. English wasn’t even my first language. I don’t have a network, so I’m teaching myself these things. I'm asking questions. I'm reading materials and expressions of self-experience and self-identity through fanworks and other autobiographical content. I'm actively trying to seek community and support through transgender and non-binary individuals with shared interests and so far all I've been met with is hostility and assumptions. So much so that I've now been made to feel like I'm on a timeline to figure it out so I can have a well-practiced, short introduction to copy and paste to every person who comes across me. And the only reason I even need one is so that they can make the decision to pass judgement over whether or not I'm allowed to speak, write, draw, wear, act, breathe the things I do. I'm disappointed. I'm anxious. I honestly feel more shoved into the closet now than I ever did before and I shouldn't be. Nobody should be treated this way when trying to figure out who they are. I probably won't even get an apology for the things that were said to me, either. I pride myself on the extraordinary caution I take to be politically correct, vetted through reputable sources, and as close to authentic as possible. And yet somehow I’m still getting called things like terf, transmisogynistic, triggering, when I’m fucking trans myself and all of my content gets vetted/REQUESTED by trans individuals. I get promised up and down that people are kind and welcoming in these sorts of spaces and honey, they aren’t. The people you choose to be friends with aren't as inclusive and friendly as you think they are. You don’t even know me and what body parts I have. The fact that you need to know in order to decide whether or not to treat me with respect is telling of an internal issue that has nothing to do with me.

I have no reference point. I live in a place where laws ban anything gender and trans. I have no local resources or community. I've barely met any LGBTQ people in person. If I have, they never came out publicly. Most of my queer exposure has been online, and the fact that I've seen nothing but angry, mean, exclusive and discriminating behavior without any sort of reasoning why other than selfish defensiveness, I don't know where else I'm supposed to go for support. Something a lot of you guys need to take into retrospect is anyone who identifies as LGBTQ gets shot where I live. We have sundown towns here. If you don’t even know what that is, good, but also that’s telling of your privilege that you need to consider when talking to others not from blue states. I didn’t grow up in an environment where we had these highly liberal culture points and the word ‘gay’ was never allowed to be said out loud. We did not have gay clubs in school. I'm about as fucking late to this as you possibly can get. The only reason I know anything about our history, representation, and barely anything about what's socially acceptable and what's not, is because of the internet. So many of you had the privilege of being exposed to this information as young as under the age of 10. I didn’t. Sue me for not immediately knowing what every gender label means right off the bat. Half that stuff isn’t even legal here.

I can't believe it's boiled down to the fact that I have to somehow justify my existence on this Earth and give an explanation that fits into predetermined boxes just to do anything to engage with other people. I have no time or space to figure it out. I’m disorganized and overwhelmed because I can’t ask questions about ‘can butches do this?’ ‘How versatile is transmasc/transfem?’ ‘Am I more genderqueer or do I fit under the trans umbrella?’ Gender and identity is fluid and ever changing. I have actually seen people harp and attack individuals for "defaulting" or "detransitioning" when they change their mind after giving this big coming out speech. It’s like support on these platforms is entirely conditional and a one-time thing. Y'all really expect people to wear the first style of shirt they buy for the rest of their life? Are we not allowed to do anything unless we know for sure? How’s college working out for you, for those who believe this mindset?

The vocally aggressive ones who use big words that contradict their statements can do, say, and be whatever they want. But people like me can't. The ones who have to straight pass in public to keep their jobs and maintain their life safely. Some of us have been on our own since 19 with no family support. Consider the environment someone lives in before assigning your harsh assumptions. I can’t just change myself on a whim without doing significant damage control. Half the jobs I work for don’t even allow unnatural hair colors. If we list our pronouns as anything other than our assigned sex at birth, it causes legality issues with taxes. The way I have to navigate how to explore my identity and also keep a roof over my head and my bills paid may seem highly conservative to most. It’s in no way shape or form meant to reflect disrespect on how others live and express themselves. I am doing the best with the environment I have. The way I do things is not meant to be read as a message of ‘you’re doing it wrong because you’re not doing it the way I do.’ None of us are wrong. That should not be the subliminal message here.

You know someone actually challenged me on that? Saying I was being harmful for purposefully straight presenting in public? Please research your country and state specific laws before you say that to me. If I could afford to live somewhere safer and queer-friendly, this conversation would be different. I am working on getting the fuck out of this state. But I don’t have a partner or parents money to default on. I’m doing this by myself. It’s not impossible, just a slow process.

I'm disappointed and fed up. I've reached my limit, and I don't really care anymore if someone uses this essay to try and cancel me 5 or 10 years from now when the world goes through another gender renaissance of terms and identities. I will not put up with being treated like this when you refuse to listen to anyone else other than the sound of your own voice. I’m trying my best to learn, adapt, and express myself. I do not need to be lectured or be called derogatory things just because you think I’m coming from a malicious place.

It’s not just about the hostility and gate-keeping behavior exhibited in online queer spaces. The same exact thing happens in fandom spaces too. People get pissy about queer headcanons and presentations so much to the point of taking it upon themselves to police the fandom and scrub it clean of “impurities.” I’ve watched y’all go through people's social media pages for any type of ammunition for justification of a personal grievance. It shocks me how much hyperfixation gets put on specific and morally harmless things when there are people out there writing diabolical shit way worse than what I have to offer. And y’all happily support them too but bark at me about what I make cus that author fits your social criteria and you assumed I didn’t. Don't think I'm ignorant to every single scrap of hate mail and harassment I've gotten over the past year and a half in my inboxes. Including the passive aggressive posts about my work, vague tweets, and discussions about me in discord servers. Over what? Have you actually read my work? If it’s actually as problematic as you say it is, provide me with a modern and unbiased example why this particular scene and execution is harmful. And not because you got triggered or disliked the kink, or read the summary/tags and assumed it was something it’s not. I don’t know how much more caution tape, massive warnings, obvious clear-cut tags (that were provided to me by queer individuals to PUT on there in the first place) out of insane amounts of caution I can do. I have always been willing to provide spoilers and explicit details in case someone is unsure how they’ll be affected by something I make. If you already don’t like it based on my warnings, that’s always been more than okay! My work is not for everyone. I’m getting tired of politely and respectfully saying please move on, because the message seems to be getting lost in translation. So let me be clear;

Get off my pages if you don’t like what I make. It’s not for you. It will never be for you. Dead dove. DO NOT EAT. PREFERRED DEMOGRAPHIC 25+ ADULT CONTENT RATED E FOR EXPLICIT. I can recommend so many other fantastic creators with better suited content for you! If I could hide my content behind a roped off section deliberately keeping you from seeing it, I would. BLOCK ME.

If your response to this section is ‘well then just don’t write it’. Honey, there’s people out here in the RWBY fandom writing trans incest actively commenting on all your shit and you respond back. A magic grimm-goo strap and monster smut featuring a transfem character (again, requested by literally 3 trans people and WRITTEN by one) should be the least of your worries.

I have actively chosen not to address the harassment and hate mail, because it's sad that half of you hate me so much you need to make a point of telling me so regularly. I sincerely hope moving on with your lives will grant you peace of mind. Truly.

This is why I barely interact with anyone. Nothing but hostility, harassment, and expectation to behave in ways I cannot emotionally commit to. I am exhausted, uninspired, and have such a bad taste in my mouth it's proving extremely difficult to want to do anything creative. It’s been worse with my recent exploration of my gender identity. Opening one door to write about certain things somehow, miraculously, closes ones I previously existed in. I’m practically getting kicked out if I’m not 100% one way or another. I don’t go out of my way to shove my content down your throats. Why you feel the need to come to me and tell me you dislike my existence because you read it, despite me stating this is not for everyone and probably not for you, doesn’t have anything to do with me. Idk what else I can do. Disappear off the face of the planet, I guess. That seems to be what the overall solution is when y’all find something you don’t like. I can't believe I witnessed grown adults in their mid twenties with self-proclaimed senses of rightness start a trend on Twitter to go through people's mutuals and their likes to see if they’re socially acceptable in Fandom spaces or not. That was fucking ridiculous. And especially not fair to those who had their private accounts leaked and put on blast when it was already behind an vetted follower wall. Believe it or not, people draw weird, lewd, diabolical shit. They’re actually being responsible by putting it behind a paywall, or some type of ‘proof of age before following’ requirement. It falls on the people who go on there, take screenshots, and post them publicly for minors and non-consenting individuals to see without filters what was previously hidden. It’s irresponsible and immature.

For fear of getting canceled by the Fandom, I moved all 600+ accounts I was following onto a private alt. I don't interact with my main anymore. I went so far into hiding and didn’t dare share anything about liking content made by people I wasn’t allowed to like, because that’s how cruel it is out here. It's honestly stupid I even felt like I had to do that. For what? People glazed over the brief moment of drama within a few weeks and went right back to posting the same shit they always have. They find new things to gossip about on their privs. New enemies to cancel on Twitter. New things to deem problematic and attack.

I will be heard with this letter. I don’t care to be associated with anyone who treats people like this. I don’t believe in it, I won’t support it, and I’d rather have a small circle of people who won’t be rude or attack other people for existing. I’m not going to sit here and take the abuse any longer. Leave me in peace. There is no reason any of this should be happening.

This is not meant to undermine the support I have gotten from the few who know what I'm going through and have given me the space to figure it out. I appreciate every question answered and insight provided as much as your abilities allow. I'm so grateful for it. I just wish it wasn't 2 people while everyone else is an asshole.

#Happy pride to me I guess!#LGBTQ+#RWBY #consider this my hiatus notice #do better #breaking my silence

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wandussyfantasy · 1 year

Text

Free Use (WandaNat)

Summary: After the events of Feeling Twenty-Two, Wanda invites you to stay with her and Natasha as long as you please. With the condition that they can have you whenever they want.

Word Count: 2.1k

WARNINGS:

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT READ & DO NOT INTERACT!!!

bottom fem reader, g!p Wanda, g!p Nat, oral, threesome, legal age gap, praising, degrading, creampie, and freeuse

𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.

“I just don't understand why you won't tell us where you're moving to?” Kate gripes as she moves a box of your things into the moving truck. Wanda was happy to pay for it and even offered to hire movers but you didn't want to explain something you couldn't afford to your friends. After your trip to your home town, you returned to start a new semester at school. But you couldn't stop thinking about the women who made your twenty second birthday the most memorable birthday ever. They even took care of you the next morning and you never wanted to leave but you told them you had a flight a couple days from then that you couldn't miss. They understood and Wanda made you an offer that she allowed you to think about. She didn't want an immediate answer. She wanted you to think about it.

Which you did, every moment of every day. It was an unusual offer. But it was also a very beneficial one. It took her until the end of her summer break to feel confident in an answer. She had gone on several bad dates within that time and no one caught her eye enough to have a one night stand with. But she had plenty of nights by herself, masterbating to the memories of that night.

“Kate, will you please drop it? I’ll come visit when I can. Besides, we have a few classes together. It's not the end of the world,” you say to comfort your friend. When you finally called Wanda and agreed, she invited you to her office. She is a lawyer, so she had a few legal documents of the arrangement drawn up. There is a discretion clause, meaning that you couldn't just parade around that you agreed to be a sex object for the couple. She said that you are allowed to have outside relationships and even have friends over at the house. But until you could figure out a way to explain your situation without explaining it, you didn't want your friends and family to know anything.

“Alright, I guess I can't say anything to make you stay,” Kate throws her hands up in defeat. “Just know, it's your fault if I end up in prison.”

You laugh at the thought of her blaming you for her actions. “How would that be my fault?”

Kate shrugs, “You keep me from doing stupid stuff. Now I can do all of the stupid stuff I want.”

You shake your head, “I’m sure your new girlfriend will supervise you.”

“Yelena will be in the cell with me, excuse you,” she pretends to be offended.

The two of you share a laugh. You look around to see that everything you own is inside of the moving truck. “I’ll see you in class next week,” you pull your now former roommate into a tight hug.

“I’m not going to see you for a whole week!” she is upset by the idea, but you couldn't promise any sooner. Not when it's your first week on the job.

Live-in Nanny, is your official title. They don't have kids or even pets for that matter. But it looks good on paper for when you have to get a job after graduation and employers won't ask too many questions. “You’ll be fine without me for a week,” you say as you shut and lock the truck.

You pull Kate into a quick hug before getting into the cab of the vehicle. You are anxious to get to Wanda and Natasha’s. Wanda had messaged you that they have a special welcome home celebration planned. You wanted to be there several hours ago.

Arriving at the mansion again, your pussy gets wet at the first memories made here. The night of fucking and the morning of aftercare. Oh how excited you are to be back here. Once you park the vehicle, a moving team is ready to unpack the truck. You climb out and look at Wanda and Natasha with confusion written all over your face. “As excited as we are for you to move in, we aren’t going to waste time with that,” Natasha explains.

“It’s not a waste of time,” Wanda corrects her wife. “We would have been happy to help you move in,” Wanda guides you into the house with an arm around you. “We just thought it was to preserve our energy for… other things.” You shift as you think about what the energy will be spent.

“The little whore wants to ride our dicks while the movers work,” Natasha says to her wife in a low tone. Wanda shakes her head.

“Well, she will have to wait. I made a special dinner.” Wanda surprises you with a kiss on your neck. “But don't worry, babe, we'll have fun as soon as your stuff is moved in and the audience is gone,” she promises.

“Of course, uh, what are we having?” Walking into the dining room, your question is answered without either having to say a word. Displayed among an extravagant dining table is a full spread of delicious looking food. “You really didn't have to,” you say to Wanda.

“We know,” Natasha says as she pulls a chair out for herself. “But that's what makes Wanda so amazing,” she blows a kiss to her wife. She blushes and you love the way the couple interacts with each other. Wanda informed you that they've been together for close to eleven years but only married for four years. You asked her why they wanted to include you if they were happy with each other. Wanda told you that they have always wanted to have a more polyamorous relationship. But never could find someone that worked for both of them. Sure, there were people that were okay with being with a married person. But there weren't many that were okay with being with both Wanda and Natasha. You are the first.

The meal is fun and easy. You were worried that although there is a great sexual chemistry, there might not be any other connection. But, those fears fade as the three of you engage in conversation for hours without an awkward silence. The food was amazing and you made sure to compliment Wanda. She flushed and asked you to stop raving, “You can thank me later,” she continued suggestively.

“I most definitely will,” you say as you imagine what you're going to do with her once you can.

The three of you move to the living area to watch a movie. They insist that you sit in the middle and snuggle up to you shortly after the film starts. Halfway through the movie, the manager of the moving crew informs you all that they are finished. Wanda gets up to pay the man and his team. She leads him away and once the front door shuts, Natasha nudges you onto her lap. You comply out of curiosity and feel her erection at your entrance. She tries to pull down your yoga pants but finds it difficult to do so. Annoyed, Natasha rips the pants open so that your ass and pussy are exposed. She roughly massages your ass as you continue to watch the movie while getting increasingly aroused.

Then, Natasha unzips her jeans and pulls herself out. She rubs her cock along your entrance, getting it covered in your juices. “Of course, you're ready for me,” she slips inside and you let out a low moan. Natasha bounces you on her cock. ��Oh I hate this part of the movie,” she says.

“Yeah, it's, it's, it's not my favorite,” you respond. When Wanda returns, she has a bowl of popcorn and she sits comfortably next to you and Natasha. You get turned on even more as they go about things as normal while Natasha is fucking you. When you had signed the contract and agreed to the FreeUse clause, you had no idea just how much you were going to enjoy it.

Natasha cums inside of you and plops you back onto the sofa. She tucks her softening cock away and they pick the next movie. Wanda takes your hand and places it over her bulge. You hungrily release her penis from the tightening pants and put it in your mouth. You love the taste of her cock, especially her cum which you are working hard to earn. Already on your first day, you have cum dripping from your pussy and cum in your mouth. You are going to love it here.

A few weeks later, you are laying on your bed as you study for an exam when Wanda enters the room. Her cock is standing out of her pants and she climbs onto the bed, hovering over your body from behind. She enters you without warning and you gasp. “Hey Wanda,” you greet as she slowly humps into you.

“Hey darling,” she kisses your neck. “What are you working on?”

“I have an exam at the end of the week, just getting some studying out of the way,” you say. Wanda reaches around your body to play with your clitoris, causing you to clench around her thick cock.

“That’s great, I love how studious you are.” Wanda praises. “You’re going to make a great business woman one day.”

“Thank you, baby. That means a lot coming from you. Oooh,” Wanda picks up her pace a little bit and you start to lose focus on your notes. She rubs your clit harder and harder until your body is spasming around her cock, milking her cum out of her.

Wanda doesn't leave before eating out the mess from your pussy, giving you another organism. She kisses you and wishes you luck with your studying. You thank her and she is gone.

A couple days later, you are making breakfast when Natasha walks in with her morning wood. “Wanda already left for work,” she says as she roughly enters you. She doesn't have a lot of time so she pounds into you until she is ready to cum. She pulls out and shoots her sperm on your back. “That looks good, have a plate ready for me when I come back down, please.”

“Of course,” you say as you finish making the meal.

One day, you arrive home after class to find Wanda and Natasha fucking on the kitchen table. You drop your things to join them. Gravitating to Wanda’s cock to suck on her as Natasha rams her cock into the woman's pussy. “Welcome home,” Wanda says through gasps. “How was your day?”

You pop her cock out of your mouth to answer. “It was good, I'm happy to be home though.” You take her cock back into your mouth and Wanda's head falls back at the over stimulation of her cock and pussy at the same time. When she is cumming, Natasha swiftly pulls out of her and pulls you off of Wanda by your hair and shoves her cock into your mouth. Wanda's cum continues to shoot out, making a mess on her stomach and table. Natasha fucks your face ruthlessly until she is releasing her orgasm in your mouth.

“We’re so happy to have you back,” Natasha says through her grunts. She pulls out of your mouth breathlessly and looks at her dirty wife. “Clean her up,” she orders you as she walks away.

Dutifully, you nod and start to lick up all of Wanda’s cum. “Thank you, baby,” she says as she lazily strokes your hair. You kiss her belly once it's only glistening with your saliva. She looks so beautiful and delicious splayed out naked on the table. You can't help kissing the rest of the way down to have your tongue in her sensitive pussy. “Ohhh,” Wanda says as you lick her just the way she likes. “I’m so happy you agreed to love us,” she says.

“Not as happy as I am,” you reply sweetly. “Besides, it's easy loving the two of you.”

Your words make Wanda emotional and she sits up on the table, requesting that you stand up. She pulls you into a deep kiss as she wraps her legs around your middle and her arms around your shoulders. “Please don't leave us.”

“Never,” you promise, because you have no plans on ever doing so.

“Nat and I have been wondering,” she starts a little nervously. Suddenly feeling very vulnerable. “Would you start sleeping in our bedroom, with us?”

You grin, feeling giddy as the relationship progresses, “Of course!”

Wanda mirrors your expression. “I’m glad because,” she pulls your ear close to her lips, “I want to wake up with your tongue inside of me,” you get wet at the idea of how much more access the three of you will have to each other now. You never thought when you agreed to go home with her almost a year ago that this would be your life. But you are so grateful that it is.

#wanda fanfic #wanda x reader #wanda smut #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #smut #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x gender neutral reader #wandanat x you #wandanat x y/n #wandanat x reader #wandanat #natasha x you #wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x you #wanda x natasha

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wheredidhiseyebrowsgo · 1 year

Note

I’m new here so I’m sorry if I missed an FAQ about rec lists instead of general fic locate requests. If you do regular rev lists on your fave fics but can you do a list of your favorite Stackson Brotp fics? Like it’s still endgame Sterek but still has a healthy dose of Stackson brotp please. I’d really appreciate it

joonniverse asked:

Hey there ! Would you happen to have any fic recs where Jackson and Stiles are/become really close? Any Stiles centric pairing is fine

AND

Anonymous asked:

May i get some fic recs for Jackson and stiles friendship? Either childhood friends or became friends post Canon or anything in between. If stackson happens that is also ok as is any other ship.

Alright friends. It took me a minute but here's some of my favorite Stiles and Jackson friendship fics. (alternatively this could be renamed " A list of mostly isthatbloodonyourshirt fics")

So When Do I Get To Pledge My Loyalty To The Mob? by RedRidingStiles

(1/1 I 10,146 I Mature I Sterek)

“Are you my sugar daddy?” Stiles blurts out, slapping a hand over his mouth when his brain catches up to his mouth.

The man lets out a soft laugh, making his way around the couch till he’s standing just feet away from Stiles.

Stiles can smell his cologne from here, it smells heavenly, Stiles kinda wants to bury his face into the guy's chest so he can figure out exactly what it is.

“If that’s what you’d like to call it.” The man smiles.

Stiles doesn’t think he should be allowed to smile like that. All soft and gorgeous and way too pretty to be legal.

He’s still not convinced any of this is real.

Stiles loses his wallet, someone returns it along with $5,000. Shit keeps coming, Stiles life doesn't make any sense anymore, he's just going with it.

Quack (Stiles Stop Calling It That) by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

(1/1 I 15,980 I Teen I Sterek)

“Stiles, I’m serious, I need a favour.”

“That sounds like a trap,” Stiles Stilinski muttered sleepily into both his pillows. “You know,” he continued when the man in his room made no move to leave, “you’d think I’d be used to this. My dad, coming into my room, smacking my ass to get me out of bed, waking me up at the ass crack of dawn—”

“It’s almost one.”

“—waking me up at the ass crack of one,” Stiles continued without missing a beat, “and asking for a favour. Given my life growing up with you, you’d think I’d be used to this by now. I think the reason this hits so hard now is that I specifically bought my own apartment so that you couldn’t wake me up at the ass crack of dawn—”

“Stiles, it’s almost one.”

“—so that you couldn’t wake me up at the ass crack of one.”

Everyone Needs a Little Mischief in Their Life by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

(1/1 I 17,984 I Teen I Sterek)

Finally, against his better judgement, and having gone in circles for much too long, he blurted out, “Who is my soulmate?”

The Witch looked disappointed, like he’d fucked up. Like he’d fucked up bad.

But she answered anyway.

“Mischief.”

Derek stared at her, not understanding, because what? “That’s not a name,” he insisted.

“Not exactly, no.” She offered him a small smile.

“I don’t understand.”

“You will.”

Sweet Buns by skoosiepants

(1/1 I 17,935 I Teen I Sterek)

Stiles hasn’t seen Derek Hale this close up for over a decade. He looks almost exactly the same, except somehow he seems even bigger and broodier—criminally handsome, with soft-looking dark scruff, heavy brows, light hazel eyes. His gaze zeros in on Stiles almost immediately, and his scowl lightens minutely in what looks like surprise.

Stiles is acutely aware that he has melted butter and cinnamon all over his face, and tries to surreptitiously wipe it with the ends of his sweater-sleeve.

I've Lived A Better Day by HelloWhyTheFuckAmIHere

(18/18 I 32,819 I Not Rated I Sterek)

When Stiles comes across a rogue Alpha during his first year at Berkeley, the ensuing fight doesn't exactly go his way. He calls an unlikely ally to help him with his transition, and finds out his new pack isn't quite who he might have thought it would be.

Stiles is now left with the task of trying to figure out how his old life will fit in with his new, but that is not without its challenges.

Stilinski's Home for Wayward Wolves by owlpostagain

(1/1 I 35,197 I Teen I Sterek)

“At least your puppies knock first,” Stiles snorts. “Here I thought their alpha raised them to be well-mannered.”

“There’s a sign,” Derek responds stiffly.

Stiles, whose curiosity outweighs even his hardest of grudges, abandons his chilly façade of nonchalance in a heartbeat. He jumps right up and all but pushes Derek out of the way in his effort to get to the window, and sure enough when he leans outside there’s a laminated strip of cardstock duct taped to the vinyl siding:

DON’T FORGET TO KNOCK Stiles gets cranky when we scare him

---

Or, in which Stiles Stilinski moves to Beacon Hills for his junior year of high school and accidentally adopts a pack of teenage werewolves.

There’s No Escape for the Potato Man by isthatbloodonhisshirt

(1/1 I 53,977 I Teen I Sterek)

“Who is this? Where’s Erica?”

“Wrong number, asshole!”

“Stop calling me an asshole,” the man on the other end snapped aggressively.

Stiles could understand. He’d be pretty aggressive too if he’d murdered someone and texted a wrong number to ask for help burying the body. This guy obviously failed How To Be a Serial Killer 101.

“What kind of idiot thinks I murdered someone?”

“The kind of idiot who got your text messages, you fucking dumbass!” he retorted hotly. “Maybe double check your contacts before sending a random stranger details on your nefarious plans to dispose of a freshly cut up body!”

“What?!” the guy on the other end demanded, crossed between horrendously confused and livid.

Have You Met Me? by Niecy8

(23/23 I 60,462 I Mature I Steter)

Derek’s eyes widened as his mouth contorted. “Good luck with that. First of all, he has sworn off alphas. Second of all, he will never ever agree to fake date and third of all, he’s just as stubborn as you.”

Oh, this idea of his was becoming more of a challenge. Peter certainly doesn’t want to back down now. “Please Derek. I am Peter Hale. I am charismatic as fuck. I can steal candy from a baby. Stiles will be no match for me.” And he was an omega. Despite what his nephew said, he could definitely turn on his alpha charm and the boy will be putty in his hand. It would be a slam dunk in his book.

Laughing through a wheeze which was rude by the way, Derek caught his breath. “Please tell me when you go to his place so I can video when he slams the door in your face.”

Later, there would be a door slammed in his face. Yet the boy did take the flowers Peter brought over as an ice breaker before doing so because Peter can be warming and Derek was not there smirking at him so he called it win.

Yep, challenged accepted. He would most certainly convince a certain omega to fake date him for a week.

What Fresh Twilight Bullshit Is This? by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

(7/7 I 196,137 I Explicit I Sterek)

“I am not Bella!” he insisted, shaking his fist angrily at Jackson, as if he’d been the one to suggest he was. “I am not Bella! I am, like, a Jacob, at least!”

Lydia made a noise of debate from his right and he whipped around to look at her.

“What?! What was that sound?!”

“You’re more of a Mike,” she insisted, shrugging neatly and flipping some curls over her shoulder.

“Wha—” Stiles had never been so offended in his life! “I am not! No way! I am a solid Jacob!”

“Mike,” she argued.

“Who’s Mike?” Scott asked.

“Shut up, Scott!” Stiles insisted, pointing a finger at him but still glaring at Lydia.

AND

@lovesouthernsweettea and @harriet-wimsey suggested this one!

stuck in reverse by crazyassmurdererwall (smartalli)

(1/1 I 66,656 I Explicit I Sterek)

Look, Derek is the worst. Everyone knows that. Their fearless leader is a total and complete failwolf.

Which means the rest of them? Are kind of the worst too. They’re a ramshackle, slap dashed, sorry excuse for a pack that’s about a half second away from getting one of them killed. And this is a problem, because Stiles would really like to survive high school. Thanks.

Still, nobody deserves what Derek has gone through. Nobody.

And it’s about time somebody told him that.

AND

@midnightwinterhawk suggested these!

stuck in reverse by crazyassmurdererwall (smartalli)

(1/1 I 65,656 I Explicit I Sterek)

Look, Derek is the worst. Everyone knows that. Their fearless leader is a total and complete failwolf.

Still, nobody deserves what Derek has gone through. Nobody.

And it’s about time somebody told him that.

Shovels and Dirt by bellefire

(15/15 I 88,628 I Mature I Sterek)

The nogitsune’s power doesn’t leave Stiles after the spirit is defeated. No, it seems Stiles was changing and knowing what that darkness did to his friends he refuses to put them in danger again. He leaves without a word. Now in a new city with not quite new friends Stiles realizes no one can run forever. Because family doesn’t back down and also, yeah, that fuckin’ tree really is talking to him.

AND

@nolanfa suggested this one!

See You on the Other Side by damnitgreenberg

(18/18 I 146,077 I Mature I Sterek)

Stiles isn't doing so well on the ‘dealing with life’ front. He'll admit to that freely, okay? But he quickly discovers he isn't the only one, and that person’s inability to adapt and roll with the punches may cost Stiles his own life.

AND

@ah-lone-drah suggested this one!

Derek's Person by ash_mcj

(3/? I 3,916 I General i Sterek)

Derek didn’t like people—they set him on edge in a way that nobody quite seemed to understand, much to his vexation. They always invited themselves into his space, like they somehow had a right to be there. They touched his clothes, his books, his skin—leaving their scents clinging to things that were supposed to smell like himself. They expected him to talk to them, and never managed to wrap their heads around the notion that he just couldn’t. Words were difficult for him to use most of the time, and despite all efforts to communicate in other ways, people just didn’t understand. But it didn’t matter anyway, because Derek didn’t like people and had no inclination to socialize with them.

But Stiles was…different, somehow. He did everything that Derek hated, and more. He intruded into Derek’s space, he rambled constantly, loudly, with flailing arms and fidgeting fingers—and his presence should have driven Derek up the wall, but it didn’t. Stiles didn’t set him on edge, like everyone else did. And maybe most surprising of all, he understood him.

[or: reclusive, feral-risk derek hale finds solace in a wild child, much to his pack’s surprise]

#teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #stiles and jackson #anastasia review #submission

450 notes · View notes

gayerthanevertbh · 2 years

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stay

pairings: pervy!older!natasha x babysitter!reader

warnings: dub-con, natasha being a pervert, non-consensual kiss, anal sex, strap-on (r receiving), mommy kink (n receiving), breeding kink, biting, pet names, dirty talking, praise kink, and more 18+ MINORS DNI

notes: a universe where natasha could actually feel reader with her strap? LMAO? ENJOY??

masterlist | navigation

“How is she?”

I was startled by the sound of Ms. Romanoff’s voice that I had hoped that she wouldn’t have seen me flinching. Turning around, I replied quietly: "She's doing well, Aliana just got into bed.”

She smiled and walked to her room, probably kissing her goodnight. Since Ms. Romanoff prefers to be alone at times, this was my cue to get up and leave. I’ve always been her babysitter ever since I started senior year, and she once admitted that I was her favorite. Knowing how I have parental issues, that information brightened me up like a sunflower. I grabbed my sling bag and stepped outside when I heard a faint call from her, saying: “Why don’t you stay for a bit? It’s raining outside.”

“Oh, I can manage. My house is just–”

She interrupts me, shaking her head, insisting me to stay. “No, please, stay. I think I’d like some company.”

I was taken aback by this. Did she want to spend time with me? Why? I was younger than her by two decades, and the only conversation we would create is about Aliana and how she is such a good child – which I don’t mind. I gave her a small nod and walked back inside, hearing the door shut firmly behind me.

Natasha led me to the kitchen and grabbed two glasses that were meant for drinking alcohol. She took a looking expensive whiskey bottle and poured herself a drink. One thing I know about Natasha is that she loves drinking her favorite alcohol: whiskey. Sometimes vodka, but, that would depend on the feel of her day.

“H-How was the convention?” I asked with my tippy-toes.

“It was great,” she answered, her voice getting deeper as the night aroused. “Do you want a drink?”

“I-I’m eighteen.”

“Right,” she mumbles under her breath, almost cursing that she forgot that I was just a minor. Well, technically an adult who isn’t legally allowed to drink. “Sorry, I’ve had a rough day. You know… all these clients and stuff. Why don’t we sit on the couch?’

I followed her all the way back to the living room and sat down beside her, but we were inches apart. I’d say a good amount of gap between us. I pressed my knees together and started playing with the skin of my nails, wondering and thinking in my head about what else I could talk about with her. Possibly, she’ll be bored if I talk about my school, right? It was hard. It’s writing an essay that you don’t even like.

She pushes her hair away from her forehead and inhales through her nose, I could hear her breathing pretty well from the distance. She asked, “Got a boyfriend or something?”

I shook my head, dismissing the fact that I was never in a relationship.

“No.”

She chuckles, bringing the rim of her glass to her lips as she takes a long sip; smacking her plump lips afterward, tasting the sensational feeling of the alcohol on the tip of her tongue.

“Boys are dumb anyway.”

“I never had a girlfriend either.”

She looks at me with bewildered eyes. “Seriously?” she was trying not to laugh, but she couldn’t help herself but chuckle lightly at my confession – it almost made me want to cover my face. “Well, I assumed you were into girls as well.”

“H-How?”

“The way you dress,” she said with a long deep hum. “Maybe the way you would stare at me whenever you’re here.”

“Oh,” I let out a hiccup, taking my eyes away from the woman as I felt my cheeks heating up from the statement," she has said. Did she seriously see me staring at her?! “I-I’m sorry, I have a staring problem.”

“Me too.”

I looked at her and noticed that she was gazing into my eyes, then into my lips. But that briefly happened when she took another sip from her glass, and her eyes were removed from mine – as much as to my disappointment. Natasha said, “My daughter really likes you, she’s never been like this with any nannies.”

I giggled, covering my mouth. “I’m glad that I get to be her nanny, Aliana is a great kid.”

She nods, smiling to herself while drinking from her glass once more. “Yeah,” she mumbles. “She’s my only baby.”

“W-what happened to her dad?” my mouth didn’t stop me from speaking out of my mind, and I sincerely regret saying it out loud. She turns her head slowly and gives me a look that I don’t recognize from her. It’s a different look, and I knew I’ve crossed the line. “I’m sorry! I-I shouldn’t have said that, I was just curious–”

“Gone,” she responded, her voice on edge, but her eyes were soft like a petal of a rose. “He’s gone. He’s a fuck-up.”

“Oh…”

“Yeah,” she chuckles, rather deeply, and finishes her glass with a form of red seeping out of her eyebags. “Shit, it’s late. Why don’t you stay for the night? I have a spare room.”

“I don’t think so,” I replied kindly, rubbing my forearm in response to my anxiety. She tilts her head and smiles, shaking her head. “N-No, I’m sorry. My mom must be expecting me to come home.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll go tell your mom that you’re staying with me.”

It wasn’t because I was scared of her, it was more like I was trespassing into her home since I’m not a family member nor a friend in her eyes. I was just a babysitter, a good little babysitter for her kid. It was getting colder outside, and the windows started to fog up due to the coolness. So maybe staying at her place wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

But I couldn’t, knowing my infatuation for the older woman will increase like a gas pedal. I said quietly, “I have to go home, Ms. Romanoff. It is rather late and I have school tomorrow–”

“Please,” she asked, almost in a begging matter as she intertwined her hands with mine, holding it close to her stomach. “Stay with me, just for the night.”

Natasha sits closer and slips her hand into my shorts, touching my crotch through the cloth of my panties. I gasped loudly, knowing that this scene could go somewhere else and that it might as well be sinful to sight. I shake my head, trying to push her hand away, but she puts on more pressure and kisses the shell of my ear like a predator insatiable for its prey. “Natasha!”

“Please,” she begs again, kissing my neck with wet lips. “Let me touch you, just stay still for me…”

She palms my arousing core, breathing hard on my neck with whimpering noises that sounded too lewd for my ears. I turned my head away but her other hand pulled my chin to her side and sloppily gave me a kiss on the mouth, moaning with a cry cracking inside her throat. This felt surreal to me, the kiss made the uncomfortable silence slip away but I was in my head too much. I needed to slip away from her mouth, this wasn’t making me feel very good. She was sweet but rough, hard but also soft. And when she groped my left breast, I knew that was my last straw.

“Stay away from me!” I bolted up, padding my shorts away as I walked to the front door with my feet thudding on the ground. Natasha chases after me and tries to pull me closer to her, but I slapped her the face of her cheek hard. We both gasped, knowing that I’d just laid my hands on her, and I knew that I’d regret it the day I woke up. She rubbed her reddening face but kept her eyes on the ground.

“Y-You touched me,” I whimpered, holding my bag close to my private area. She only gave me a sad look and scratched the back of her neck, almost feeling ashamed for what she had done. “I always had a crush on you but I never thought you’d be a pervert!”

“Y/n–”

The truth is, I liked the way she touched me down there. I most certainly loved the way she kissed my neck, how she was desperate for me and only me. It’s almost as if I was important – validated. But knowing that she was in her drunken state and the sense of infidelity, I couldn’t bear myself to ruin a relationship between us that seemed fragile at this point.

“Touch someone of your own age,” I didn’t realize how vocal I was when I suddenly become so… aroused from what happened recently on the couch. “B-But don’t ever do that on me.”

“Admit that you liked the way I touched you,” she smugged, chuckling from the side as she got closer, which I immediately backed up. “Come on, you know you liked it.”

“No, I didn’t.” I lied.

She grabbed my wrist, but I wrestled away as I pushed her chest. I gave her one last look before storming out of her house, not caring if my bag gets wet from the rain, not caring if I cry throughout my walk back to the house. I debated to myself whether I should still babysit for her daughter or not, but I realized that if I did leave, Aliana would be devastated. But if I stay; Natasha will keep touching me, and I would end up having sex with her.

I got back to my room safely and took a warm shower with the previous incident that had happened not even thirty minutes ago.

—

Once again, I found myself in Natasha’s home, much to my surprise. But this time, she was here with me and Aliana. I had hoped that at least she would be away again from work, but she was here the minute I rang the doorbell. The only difference is: she had a friend over, I think her name was Wanda… or something. I don’t know, why would I need to know? It’s not like I’m her girlfriend.

I knew she had guilt in her eyes the moment I walked in, I could barely even look up at her with my pearling eyes. The atmosphere has gotten thick as well as our relationship, I don’t know how I would respond to her if she ever talked to me again; somehow wishing that she would.

“Is mama mad at you?”

I was taken by surprise by Aliana’s question, which clenches my heart with the thought of us not having an interaction. Though, I shook my head in response, pretending that everything was okay between me and Natasha. Even just for the little girl in front of me.

“No,” I whispered, patting her head with my hand. “What makes you say that, honey?”

“Because I saw mama crying before you came by,” she said sadly. “She looked really sad, Y/n. I didn’t know what to do.”

I didn’t know what to do either – I felt bad when I remember speaking to her like that. Calling her a pervert, and hitting her on the chest, is something that I regret deeply. I could’ve just spoken to her in a calm way, I could’ve just done that.

“Your mama and I are okay hon,” I smiled at her, gently pinching her cheek as I received a huge smile on her face. “Listen, why don’t you play with your dollies? I’ll go check it out on your mama.”

The little one went back to the living room as I cleaned the kitchen area, sighing to myself. If I speak to her now, I will get a paycheck and might never see her again. Because if I tell her that I wouldn’t want what she wanted, the only reason for us to depart is me going away first. But deep inside, I wanted what she wanted. I wanted her to touch me, to lick me, to kiss me as if I’d lost my breath.

It’s a treacherous feeling; something magical yet devious.

“Y/n?”

In front of me, Natasha held a glass of whiskey and a cigarette in between her fingers. I looked at her briefly, then kept my eyes on the stove instead. I could hear the other woman, Wanda, having a conversation with Aliana while Natasha was in the same area as me. I wish that she could just walk away and never talk about what happened that night. Because if we did – this time, I’d let her kiss me.

“Is there anything you need, Ms. Romanoff?”

“You know we have passed formalities, Y/n.”

I sighed, nodding at her answer. I turned my back on her when I felt her hand gripping my wrist – gently this time – and looked at me firmly with her watering eyes. I know she was about to cry, and I didn’t want to see any of it. After all, she did touch me that night without my permission; even though it was a great turn-on for me.

“I-I think you shouldn’t touch me,” I whispered, my lips trembling as I spoke. “We still haven’t talked about what happened that night.”

“I know,” she said, whispering to me in the same tone as mine. “Can we talk? Please? Maybe when Wanda leaves?”

“I have exams tomorrow,” A pause. “I-I think you should let go now, I have to go soon anyway.”

“But I want you to stay…”

“Please,” she asked, almost in a begging matter as she intertwined her hands with mine, holding it close to her stomach. “Stay with me, just for the night.”

No–stop. You can’t feel like this, she’s literally your mother at this point. Get over it.

“I…” I hesitated for a moment, trying to form the words in my hand as I think about other sentences that wouldn’t offend the woman before me. I realized how she was gently gripping me this time, and I could only whimper in the slightest way. “Okay, w-we can talk.”

As soon as Wanda left, it was alright nighttime. At around 9 pm, Aliana went to bed with Natasha’s Russian lullaby; which I find greatly amusing. I was waiting in the living room once again, holding a glass of water between my hands. I watch the clock tick, which represents my heartbeat. Tick tock, tick tock, I hear from afar – and I could admit that I was feeling nauseous each time it ticks.

What if we kiss again? What if I push her away? This doesn’t feel right, yet it’s something exciting like a burning passion of desire.

As soon as I felt tired, Natasha came by the scene. She sat down beside me with tired green eyes and pried her legs open as she sat down with a hunched back. She groans, rubbing her face softly with her hands, and murmurs: “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Oh.” I breathed out, not sure how to reply to that.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice shaking. “Fuck–I’m so sorry, Y/n. I knew I touched you too far, but I couldn’t help myself. I’m so fucking attracted to you and I only knew that since the day I met you.”

I was speechless. I didn’t know that she was attracted to me, or so I thought. I cracked my knuckles in the quiet air as silence was abrupt in the scene. I could almost hear the wind swooshing from outside; it was getting too quiet. Then, I felt the couch dip. I sensed that she was sitting closer to me, and I didn’t move. I just let it happen, almost as if I let her touch me that night.

She rests her hand on my thigh and squeezed my skin, making me let out a sharp breath. Her face was so close to mine that you think we might kiss, but I was damned to even think like that. She whispered with her breath trickling on the corner of my mouth, “Kotenok, look at me. Please, just look at me.”

“I can’t.”

I could feel her hand creeping closer to my core, and I made no effort to close my legs. Instead, I let her do it, I let her do whatever she wanted to do with me. She kisses the bare skin of my shoulder as she finally touches my covered core, her mouth letting out a victorious moan.

“Are you a virgin?”

I shake my head. I remember losing my virginity to a girl once, I wouldn’t say it felt amazing but I’d say it felt nice. I think.

“N-No, Ms–”

“It’s okay,” she whimpers, turning me around as she puts me into a hand-and-knee position on the couch. Except, when that happened, she pushed me down on the cushion until the side of my face collided with the soft leather that was on the couch. Natasha kisses my neck while her hands are on my waist, going up and down from time to time. “Please don’t be scared, ‘M not going to hurt you…”

“You’re touching me too far–”

“No it’s not too far,” she whines, shaking her head in exasperation. “Please just be good, I promise it won’t hurt. Has anyone fucked you in the ass?”

If my innocence was obvious, then she would know that. But it wasn’t obvious, so I shook my head in response. I could feel her smiling a bit, and I wish that I would’ve seen that instead of being pressed against this couch.

“Can I fuck you in the ass?”

“I–”

“Please?” she pleaded with whimpering, her hands squeezing the roundness of my ass. As much as I wanted to say no, I also had this firing feeling that I wanted it to happen. I can admit that I needed her to fuck me in the ass if it means to stay connected with her. If she didn’t kiss me that night, I don’t think I’d ever let her do this to me.

“Won’t Aliana hear us?” I asked, moaning quietly when she pulls up my skirt, gasping to herself when she sees me in my tiny panties that could barely cover my buttocks. “T-Tasha–”

“No,” she said as she kissed my nape once more. “She won’t, it’s just you and me, pretty baby. I’m going to take my strap out, okay?”

That’s why there was a bulge in her pants, I thought to myself. I can hear her pants zipping and a ruffling sound, knowing that she’s taking off her pants along with her underwear. As soon as I was about to close my eyes, I felt her strap grazing against my inner thighs, I let out a tiny whimper.

“I-Is it going to hurt?” I asked shyly, clenching both of my fists together as I feel my panties dragging down all the way to my ankles – until it was discarded.

“A little bit,” Natasha admitted, palming my left cheek. “Lift your butt, little girl. I’m going to spit on your hole.”

The knot in my stomach tightens, I could feel her breath trickling on the skin of my ass and I knew that this was bound to happen. I belonged to her, I just simply belonged to this woman who I merely don’t know of other than taking care of her child.

She spits on my hole and spreads the liquid around the tight ring of my ass, as she spits again and again – lubing it up. I was grateful enough that she was working me open, or I could have had serious injury if she just pushed inside of me. Nothing would be enjoyable if that would’ve happened.

“You’re my favorite babysitter,” she murmured to my neck as she wrapped her arm around my waist, pulling me up slightly as she gave my collarbone open-mouth kisses. Wet kisses, to be exact. I let out a sharp moan and she chuckles from that. “You’re loving this, aren’t you? You like it when Mommy is about to fuck you in the ass?”

“Yes,” I said urgently, giving myself to her, as I should be doing in the first place. “Please, just do it…”

I want her, I want her cock, I want everything that she can give to me. I want it all.

She presses her lips against mine and kisses me like no other, holding my body close as she kisses me with full of her tongue. Natasha pulls away with our lips creating a soft wet smack and spits on her hand, lathering her faux cock with her thick saliva all around it. She looks back at me and starts humping me from the back, moaning each time her cock slips in between my buttocks. It was a pretty sight for her, especially when I’m fully submitted to her glory.

“No one else could touch you, okay? No one,” she said, almost in a demanding voice, but you could hear a tinge of sweetness in her tone. She kisses my nape again and leaves a nail trail mark on my ass. “Open up for me, it’s okay… I’m not going to hurt you.”

On the first push, I screamed from my throat. She quickly covered my mouth and shushes me by the ear, whispering: “You can’t be loud little one! You’re going to wake my daughter up.” and kept pushing her length inside of me, I couldn’t help but whimper and cry at the same time. It felt good, too good for my liking. I never thought I’d be such an… anal whore, as they say on the internet. It’s like she’s opening me like it was the last time; I was on top of the hill.

Natasha breathes heavily on my collarbone as her eyes stare at her cock pushing inside of my asshole, her other hand on my hips to hold me back up. “God,” she cries out, resting her forehead against the back of my head. “You’re so tight, I can feel you… I can feel your ass wrapping around my dick.”

“W-what?”

“That’s right sweetie,” she coos, pulling out a bit and pushing back in with the couch squeaking underneath me. “Oh yeah–that’s fucking it, you feel so good around me.”

She brings my face closer to hers as we kiss once again, our tongues battling for dominance. But I simply let her take the lead as I’m too dazed by the feeling of my asshole being fucked with her enormous dildo inside of me, almost as if she’s pounding into me this quick. Natasha pulls out again and snaps her hips back into me until my ass hits her pelvis.

“We’re connected,” she said, cracking a tearful smile. “You’re squeezing my cock too good, I can’t believe I’m fucking my daughter’s babysitter…”

Natasha begins peppering lingering kisses on my shoulder as she thrusts in an upward motion, both of our hips moving in sync. The couch squeaks more, as the slapping of our skin fills up the entire apartment, knowing for the fact that people might as well hear us. But she didn’t care, and neither did I. You could say that I was a cock whore, a cock slut. But I wouldn’t broadcast that aloud, because then – I’d lose my innocence.

“Feels good,” I breathed out, clutching the arm of the couch tightly as she grunts above me each time the tip of her cock hits my spot. “D-Don’t stop, please don’t stop…”

“I won’t,” she reassures, giving my ear a brief kiss before bringing both of her hands to grope my breasts, mounding and pressing them together while thrusting inside of my gaping hole as if it was my vagina. She removed her mouth from my skin, and muttered: “Is this what you wanted?”

I nodded. “Mhm…”

“You wanted this big fat cock didn’t you, pretty baby?”

“Yes–yes!”

“You make me so happy,” she moans in a high-pitched tone, closing her eyes tightly as she feels herself having an orgasm. “You wanted this… you’ve always wanted this.”

I wasn’t sure whether I wanted it or not. Either way, I never thought it would feel this good. Because, in my defense, I was only a babysitter for Natasha’s daughter. And now, I’m a total cock sucking whore for her that would do anything for her will. Whatever she wanted, I’ll let her do it, I was hers anyway.

“I’m close,” she murmurs into my neck, grunting quietly as she gets deeper. While trying to have my climax, I felt her thumb pressing against my clit – rubbing the bud furiously to have an orgasm with her. “Hump my cock, baby. Just push back.”

I did what she told me to do, I pushed back. And boy, she loved it. She was moaning about how delicious my asshole felt around her dildo, praising and kissing me with our bodies pressed together even though we couldn’t feel each other in the way we wanted to. She slowly humps my ass, dragging the length in and out while moaning with whimpers and cries.

“Gonna cum in your fucking ass,” she cries out, biting softly on my neck. “Want me to get you pregnant? Huh? Wanna give me a baby?”

“Mommy, no…” I pleaded, sobbing out loud in the area. What if she has the power to get me pregnant? What if, whatever is in that dildo, does it get me pregnant? I wasn’t ready, I don’t think I was. “W-Wait, no! Don’t cum inside of me, please don’t–”

“It’s only in the ass baby,” she whispers in my ear, slowly thrusting inside of me. Too slow. “Just let me get you pregnant, sweetie… shh, it’s okay! It’s okay…”

Her words were starting to slur, as her hand gripped my waist – surely enough that my skin would be imprinted by her nails. She drags her wet lips all the way to my nape and shoots her fake load inside of me with staggering moans, mixed with her whimpers. She humps my ass twice and holds me down on the couch. “Take it, baby! Take all of my fucking cum in your ass…”

While having an orgasm in my absent cunt, she was still fucking me from behind with her loud lewd moans and deep cries that would ring in my ear forever. She kisses my lips sloppily and whispers with a hazed look, “You’re amazing, you’re just fucking amazing…”

After we were done, she pulled out of me and placed the strap-on on the coffee table, not caring if it would stain my ass cum. She gets behind me and hugs me close, our bare legs intertwined as well as her pelvis pressed against my ass. She rakes her fingers through my hair, and smells it deeply; satisfied with herself.

“Did I hurt you?” she asked, and she received a shake of my head. She smiled. “Good, I don’t ever want to hurt you.”

After a long while of silence, I asked in the cold middle of the air: “Are you going to dump me now?”

Natasha lifts her head a little and scrunches her eyebrows in confusion.

“W-What?”

“You’ve used my body,” I replied, cracking a sob between my lips. “The first time I had, s-she left me! She went away and now you’ve taken me you’re going to go–”

“No, no, no…” she shushes, cupping my face as she kisses me deeply with her tongue slipping into my mouth. Natasha pulled away and pecked my wet lower lip, and continued. “I won’t ever leave you, okay? I want you to stay with me.”

Maybe staying with her wasn’t such a bad idea, after all, maybe everything would feel better with her if I did stay. I can hear her in the back of my mind, saying: please, stay. Just stay and I remember being so stubborn about it too. But now as I look at her, I can feel the sincerity in her eyes.

I wanted to stay.

“I’ll stay,” I whispered as I felt her head cradling my head. “I’ll stay.”

“Okay, my little girl. You’ll stay, you’ll always stay.”

i want pervy!natasha to touch me in the-

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff fanfic #mommy natasha #black widow x reader #black widow x you #a's oneshots!#enjoy lmao

2K notes · View notes

weirdmarioenemies · 6 months

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The Critic's Arrival

It appears we've been visited by some sort of critic. We didn't order any critic! Are you a film critic? Food critic?

"The name's THE Critic- get it right! I ridicule, just out of spite! And now you've got me at your door, You've no idea what you're in for! For I'm The Critic, that's no ruse! I'm here to criticize all youse!"

Oh? You're here to criticize us...? I don't think I like whatever it is you're imply- oh, he's already invited himself in. Okay! So, Mr. The Critic, can I... get you something to drink, I guess? We certainly have a lot of water.

"That's all you offer? You're the worst! Good thing I've not much of a thirst! This living room... it's oh so drab. And are you serious? A CRAB? Your home decor is just no good. I'd burn this poster if I could! You must have all been in the dark, For not a soul likes Wonder Park!"

Come on... Boomer the Ride Tester is funny... right? Is there anything else we can do to make your stay more comfortable? And maybe make you more polite?

"I hope my message makes you cry: This home of yours is much too dry!"

Is that so? At least here in Wet-Dry World, that's easy to fix! I'll just activate this Crystal Tap and raise the water...

"This isn’t any better yet. The whole affair’s now far too wet!"

Oh... how about a more neutral level?

"The moisture level’s at its middle, But I’m afraid, too late too little! You just can't seem to be a winner! Now, with that done, let's have some dinner!"

Okay, I've been trying to be polite, but you can't just be mean to us and expect to receive a free meal for it! Spikey's only made enough potatoes au gratin for us mods!

"Oh, THAT'S the stench? It's just some gratin? I could have sworn something was rotten! I see you're near fed up with me, And knowing that fills me with glee!"

Why are you doing this, The Critic? Why us? What did we do to you?

"Well, here's what's written in my log: You lot all run a Tumblr blog! Where posts are foolish, simply silly, Goofy creatures willy-nilly! You don't need to be analytic To know you're talking to The Critic. It's how I live, it's what I do. I've come here to criticize YOU!"

Hey. Words really hurt, you know that, The Critic? But no matter what you say, you can't break our spirits! We'll post what we want no matter what you say!

"Now comes the part I love the most... rescinding your license to post!"

OUR POSTING LICENSE?! The only thing that legally allows us to post about funny pretend creatures online... you're a monster! Unhand that license this instant!

"Ha ha! Hee hee! It's too much fun! And with that, I'll be on the run! Your permit's all I need to rob. I hope you've got a backup job!"

He's gone. That utter fiend... without our posting license, we're nothing. He's right. We'll need a new job. After all this time, we'll need to return to where it all began, where all of us met for the first time, and where we all worked before starting this blog, but it was never relevant so we never mentioned it...

...the TROUT HATCHERY! See you there...

#weird mario enemies #the critic #the critic arc #april fools

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youling-the-ghost · 13 days

Text

sfth incorrect quotes pt.10 because school's kicking my ass and I need my daily dose of brainrot to survive

AJ: Go fuck yourself. Sam, smugly: Sure, but only if you watch Tom: It doesn’t have a bone. Sam: Then why is it called a boner? Luke: Look, do I consider myself attractive? Yes. But would I have sex with my clone? Also yes.

AJ: Is the plural of milf/dilf milfs/dilfs or milves/dilves? Sam: Milfs. Tom: Milf/dilf is an acronym, you can't change the spelling to milves/dilves. AJ: Wait, they're acronyms? What do they stand for??? Luke: Mom in late forties, dad in late fourties. Luke: I learned that from the movie called M.I.L.F that I saw the trailer of in theaters probably 5 to 7 years ago. Tom: Mom/dad I'd Love to Fuck. AJ: WAIT, WHAT THE FUCK— AJ: I NEVER REALIZED IT WAS ACTUALLY HORNY! Luke: Oh, is it not mom in late fouries? Sam: What? No! It isn't! Luke: THE MOVIE TRAILER LIED TO ME! Tom: Luke... Luke: THIS IS WHY I DIDN'T THINK CALLING PEOPLE MILFS WAS ALL THAT BAD BECAUSE IT STOOD FOR SOMETHING HARMLESS IT JUST HAD A SLIGHTLY SEXUAL CONNOTATION! Tom: I am entirely unsurprised that this is coming from you. Luke: AJ, DOES IT MAKE SENSE WHY I CALLED THE DIARY OF A WIMPY KID MOM A MILF NOW BECAUSE I THOUGHT IT WAS LITERALLY JUST A DESCRIPTOR WITH FUNNY CONNOTATION! AJ: The word milf has been ruined for me. Sam: THAT'S ITS DEFINITION, IT CAN'T BE RUINED THAT'S WHAT IT MEANS! Tom: Y'all are dumbasses. Tom: I am the left brain, I am the left brain. "I work really hard until my inevitable death" brain. You've got a job to do, you better do it right and the right way is with the left brain's might. AJ: I LIKE OREOS AND PUSSY- Sam: Is letting someone win at chess sapiosexual bottoming? Tom: Can everyone in this godforsaken group please learn the skill called "Think Before You Speak"? Luke: Ya know...it might be. Sam: How do you tell someone that you wanna have sex with them in a polite way? Tom: Excuse me Mx. Would you give me the honours of indulging in sexual activities with you? Luke: What the fuck is wrong with you two? at the supermarket Sam: All right, the last item on the list is "virgin oil." Sam: Sam: Wow. Imagine being an item and still being called a virgin. Tom: Capitalisation is the difference between "I had to help my uncle Jack off a horse.." and "I had to help my uncle jack off a horse.." (It was then that Junyu realised...he accidentally turned on NSFW only and that's why the quotes have been so horny.) Sam: Hey! Wanna hear a joke? Tom: Sure. Sam: Your life! Tom: Actually, my life isn’t a joke, jokes have meaning. Sam: Tom, no. AJ: Can you recommend a book that'll make me cry? Tom: General Mathematics 8th Grade Edition. (in reference to that one guessing game where AJ forgot how math worked) Luke: It's locked. You got a lock pick? Tom: Yeah- Sam: *kicks down the door* Luke: They can't make me admit France exists, right? Legally, that's not allowed. Luke: Sure, if France was REAL I'd say I liked it. Luke: But who's to say. AJ: I think France isn't real. Tom: AJ, you used to live in France. AJ: And??? AJ: You gave me up, you let me down, you turned around, and deserted me. Sam: But did I make you cry? AJ: *cries on the spot* Sam: ...Shit. AJ: Why's it called an oven when you of in the cold food and you of out hot eat the food? Tom: ...What??? AJ: What’s your biggest fear? Luke: I am incredibly arachnophobic. AJ, under his breath: You don’t want spiders to get married? Tom: Luke, I think we have a problem. Luke: What, the fire? Tom: No, the- wait, what fire? Luke: Oh forget about it, this sounds more interesting. Sam: Hey Luke, can you give me the opposite of these words? Sam: Always, Coming, From, Take, Me, Down. Luke: Never, Going, To, Give, You- Luke: The fucking satisfaction. Luke: Inside you, there are two kidneys. Luke: I’m gonna steal them. Tom: So my therapist was talking to me and she said that I really just need to break down my walls and let people in. Tom: So I’ve decided to break the fourth wall. Tom: *looks at camera* Hi there. I use humor as a coping mechanism.

#shoot from the hip #sfth incorrect quotes #luke manning #tom mayo #sam russell #alexander jeremy #I have no funny thing to add to the tags today #please just enjoy the chaos

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coffeeghoulie · 2 months

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PLEASE GIVE US DRAG TALK CONTENT

I’m going to post the ten pictures tumblr will allow and then go on a huge ramble under a read more bc goddamn i think this was the best weekend of my life.

Also, fuck tumblr bc I had this whole thing written out (on my phone, nonetheless) and it went poof up in smoke gone. Motherfucker.

I wore jutty’s own shirt to the first night bc I thought I was being funny. He walked past me and a few of my friends after the show, one of whom, Celine, runs the dt discord, and had gift bags for everyone in the band with trinkets from people who made things, myself included. She caught his attention and gave him the bags to distribute, and I was just shaking bc holy shit he just brushed past me in a crowded lounge and my hands were starting to shake (I was surprisingly okay during the show) I got his attention and gave him the bracelet I made for him that said "jutty taylor cyber bully" and he lit up when he I gave it to him and he smiled so fucking big when he noticed what shirt I was wearing.

He told me that he was happy the shirts were "getting new lives" but it still pained him to part with them lmao. I thanked him and explained that it was a "birthday gift" for myself; he did the fundraiser on my actual birthday. As soon as I said that, he pulled me into a side hug and I hit Celine with the biggest "deer in headlights about to be run over please send help" panicked expression lmao. He then proceeded to use my shoulder as an arm rest while he talked with Celine. I normally have an issue with people doing that to me, but I've said "anything for you, mr taylor" and I fucking mean it

I got a picture with him later and bc we were out of the cramped, loud bar, I was able to apologize about rambling in his twitter dms about losing my contact lenses and freaking out over the shirt potentially being lost. I did also get to tell him my name (he knows my legal name for shipping purposes) and told him that I didn't tell him that it was Dot earlier bc my parents and I share a po box and they don't know who Dot is. He turned to me and looked me in the eye and told me that he was very glad the shirt got to me.

When we took the picture, I swear to god, I could feel his stubble against my forehead where he leaned his head against mine and part of me will be on that street corner forever tbh. It's my phone lockscreen and I usually don't like looking at myself but holy fuck its proof it happened

I watched him smoke after the show both nights and ohhhhhhhhhh my god. It is now proven that I can in fact Behave In Public. It was an Ordeal. (you can't blame me, he threw his head back to blow smoke and furrowed his brow in concentration when he lit up. YOU CANT BLAME ME)

I did some touristy shit before the second show and impulsively bought jutty a novelty gift shop shirt to give to him afterwards. I watched him unfold it and just laugh when he saw the design. He thanked me up and down bc he actually needed a shirt and immediately left the group of people waiting to talk to him to put it somewhere he wouldn't lose it.

I am being dead fucking serious rn. I'm pretty much only on tumblr and discord. If a picture of jutty in a dark blue shirt with dinosaur skeletons on it surfaces somewhere online. DO NOT FUCKING TELL OR SHOW ME. I WILL ACTUALLY PHYSICALLY PASS AWAY. I GENUINELY MEAN IT.

Jutty was so nice and gave me a real hug after the second show when my uber was pulling up and I asked kind of quietly for one. He thanked me for coming pretty much in my ear and I just as politely and quickly as I could shoved my face into his collar and took a deep fucking breath and thanked him for everything. (i was also a lil distraught it was over and genuinely needed the hug tbh. i cried in the uber bc i was upset and also bc I was afraid I was being pushy again but I think I was just exhausted, if he didn't want to give me a hug he wouldn't have)

I cannot. CANNOT. even begin to explain how good jutty smells. He smells so fucking good. I think the dt twitter has said what cologne he uses, but once I assess the damage I just did to my bank account with this trip, I will be buying it.

I was able to give Hayden his bracelet after the first show, and he was super sweet and super animated when he talks and he got a little closer to my level (I am v short and it was very loud in that bar). I gave him a condensed version of my airport hell and that this one show had been worth it all, never mind tomorrow's; he seemed surprised people would fly out somewhere they've never been just to see the band. (He was reminded by a friend of mine that Australians flew out for the LA show lmao) But Hayden was super nice and so smiley, I wish I could have watched him play more at the second show but the stage was so small that Ross and the bassist who filled in for Eliot (whose name I'm drawing a blank on rn sorry 😭) stood right in front of him. He put his bracelet on the moment I gave it to him and I stood there shaking like "he likes itttttttt." WAIT SHIT I FORGOT TO SEE IF HE PLAYED WITH SHOES ON OR NOT. FUCK.

The band hung out at a sports bar after the first show, so me and a couple people hung out with Neil and he's super nice and so funny and showed us a peek at the yeti taylor merch that just dropped. He also stuck his head into the Vietnamese place next to the second venue and went "oops wrong door" lol

I didn't get much of a chance to talk to Ross or Matty, but Matty helped me get merch and Ross gave me a high five at the second show. Next time, mark my words, I will have a conversation or two with them, they were both so sweet.

I'm really glad I got to meet everyone who came, too. I got to meet a bunch of people I'd been talking to for months online and we were fucking troopers in line, dealing with the fuckass weather. Worth every second spent in soaked shoes imo. But it was so much fun and I still have to unpack but I am cherishing every little trinket I got.

I was incredibly nervous about being in a city I'd never been to alone, but I would do this trip again in a fucking HEARTBEAT. (i also said something along the lines of "pspspsps mr taylor could you please consider Chicago for next time mayhaps??? 👀👀👀 So Dot doesn't have to deal with flight cancelations and layovers and delays and midnight arrival times????" and he threw his head back and laughed and told me that Chicago is his kind of city so 🤞🤞🤞🤞🤞🤞🤞🤞🤞)

#damn this got long.#i apologize for making this my personality for the foreseeable future #I have been Fundamentally Changed #OH AND THE OPENERS WERE SO MUCH FUN #I LOVE BEING BISEXUAL #unmasked ghouls #jutty taylor #hayden scott #drag talk

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mrfartpowered · 1 month

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Divorced Mort Theory

Despite its name, this is less of a theory and more of a thoroughly-developed headcanon 😭 Another banger mostly from the mind of @cunningweiner, transcribed by me LOL

It begins with a question: where in the world is Mrs. Weinerman?

She is mentioned a whopping ten (10) times over the course of the entire series, and one of those times is only an implied mention. You can argue Heidi’s nightmare in McFear Factor serves as her canon appearance, but Lize and I think that’s just a punchline. We don’t acknowledge it as an official Mrs. Weinerman design lol.

Most of the Mrs. Weinerman mentions are inconsequential. Usually, they are passing comments stating Weinerman family rules: Howard isn’t allowed to do something, Heidi has to let Howard join her on air, the two of them need to share lunch money. But there are a few mentions on which this theory hinges.

Mort-al Combat writes Heidi out of the episode by mentioning that she’s out with her mother on a trip. Yes, it’s perfectly normal for one sibling to take a trip with one parent, and for all family members to be on good terms with each other. But it is also very common for children with divorced parents, typically kids Howard and Heidi’s ages, to choose to spend more time with one parent than the other.

This interpretation is supported by Howard’s clinical-ass business-like relationship with Mrs. Weinerman. In MMMy Bologna, he mentions her singing lullabies to him when he was a baby. Other than that, of the six precious times Howard himself mentions her, THREE of them are about money. He uses her credit card, he receives lunch money from her…and also there’s that one bit about Howard buying expensive hand cream BUT THAT STILL PROVES MY POINT!! Anyway — last but not least, he complains that both Mort and Mrs. Weinerman got him socks for Hanukkah. Sure, parents don’t always shop for gifts for their kids together. But Howard’s phrasing leads me to believe that these socks were given as separate gifts, rather than, like, many socks given jointly by his parents.

I also want to point out that, in Ball’s Well Part 2 when the doorbell rings, he calls for Mort, then Heidi, before just answering the door himself. Mrs. Weinerman either works odd hours, or doesn’t live with Mort, and you know what I’m choosing to believe!

Now, because that’s the most material I can work off, that’s the only evidence I have. Find headcanons below :33

Mort and the former Mrs. Weinerman married young, had kids shortly after, and divorced not long before the series’ beginning

Mort did not take the divorce well…but he also wasn’t doing too hot while he was married, so 🤷‍♀️

Howard gets his temperament from his mother: impulsive, hot-headed, and self-serving. They also look very similar in the face, and Heidi points it out whenever he makes certain facial expressions, which bothers Howard a lot

Much like Howard and Mort in the series, Mort often played doormat to his then-wife’s demands. I wouldn’t say she was a nagging woman, nor an abusive wife, she was just… not well suited to a guy like Mort. He needs someone bold, yes, but understanding — and like Howard, I think Mrs. W struggles with empathy

During the divorce process, Howard asked for Mort to have full custody. He and his mother are so similar that they butted heads frequently and loudly, affecting the entire household. Mort ended up with full physical custody, sharing legal custody with the former Mrs. W.

Though Howard would rather die than properly express it, he was so relieved when he learned he wouldn’t have to live with his mom. He may not respect Mort…at all…but he’s 15, for crying out loud, he’ll learn. That’s his dad, yeah he’s a pushover, but I think on some level Howard knows his dad tries. Theirs is a tense love, but a love nonetheless

Howard’s relationship with his mother is hanging on by a thread. Neither of them have a desire to get to know the other — because Howard is a petty kid whose empathy is still developing, and because Mrs. W is childish and quick to anger.

Heidi doesn’t necessarily get along with her mother, either, but they’re different enough to have a decent relationship, and Heidi feels obligated to her. “She’s my mom, I’ve gotta love her” type beat.

Mort has very complicated feelings about his ex-wife. She’s the mother of his children, but yes, he recognizes that she didn’t treat him very well. He appreciates his daughter trying to maintain a relationship with her. He’s not sure how to feel about Howard. I think maybe he recognizes that she didn’t treat Howard very well, either. It makes him sad but he knows it’s for the better

Mort is honestly kind of terrified that Howard chose him. There’s a part of him that didn’t expect it. There’s a bigger part of him that doesn’t think he can handle it. He wants so, so badly to live up to Howard’s choice, and that’s why he lets Howard walk all over him.

They both have a lot of learning to do before they can have a healthy, fulfilling relationship, but I like to believe yes, with time, they figure it out.

#rc9gn #rc9gn headcanons #howard weinerman #mort weinerman #heidi weinerman #randy cunningham 9th grade ninja #mrs weinerman #HERE IT IS LOL THANK U ALL FOR VOTING IN THAT OLDASS POLL #ninj-originals #update: and upon you my most specialest blorbo I bestow the highest fathomable honor #Mommy AND Daddy Issues!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#with a happy ending too. because he’s that lucky

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arcadekitten · 8 months

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The Lambchop World is so fascinating and cool… but I’d like to know more about it as well! What’s the economy like there? Do people still have jobs, buy and sell stuff like supplies, clothing, food, etc… just like they do in Stella’s town?

(Also, speaking of which.., is everyone’s wardrobe that emo/gothic? Did Lambchop force it to be? Because I love Stella but those clothes are REALLY not her style! I really hope that Lambchop didn’t force her into wearing them… that’s leaning a bit too much into “toxic relationship power imbalance” for me)

What’s the general attitude of the population? Are they all violent, bloodthirsty and prickly besides Stella or do some of them retain their normal personalities? Do they lean in more towards their “animalistic” side (like Ruuuby eating Buck) or do they still eat normal food? …WHERE would they get normal food? Is it all meat and cannibalism??

Also, assuming that Lambchop goes after the whole WORLD instead of just a small village like Stella did… is death common there? Or does Lambchop resurrect them to “have some more fun” on his planet? Are his powers that of a normal Star witch as well? I’m so curious if it is!

And finally… what are Stella and Lambchop’s roles and relationship on this planet? Lambchop seems to live just like a common “resident” of that planet… getting into riots, street fights, etc. What does Stella do though? Is she just Lambchop’s personal nurse who takes care of him after he gets into fights or something?

This seems to be an anarchic world, so I doubt that their’ll be a government or any form of legal system there.., but I am curious if there is some sort of “gang hierarchy” on this place, like the most respected fighters are the rulers of certain territories and clans or something. It’ll make sense for his world, and I wonder if he’s in the “top hierarchy” or something like that, considering that he literally CREATED the world lol. Do the other residents have respect or are intimidated by him? What do they think of Stella?

P.S: Kinda a dumb question but are Stella and Lambchop in a relationship in this AU? Do they date and have a house (or a joint living area maybe) and live together or something? How do they treat each other? I like to think that Lambchop treats Stella…well, like allowing her a small garden to plant some flowers and have a semblance of normalcy in their home. Kind of like how Stella bloodied up her village for Lambchop, but much less drastic.

And for the million-dollar question: What on EARTH are the other Star Witches when Stella needs them??? Did they abandon her or something?

These are A LOT of questions, I’ll admit… Im rly sorry if this is too much :( But I’m just so curious about this world; the idea is absolutely fascinating to me!! Thank u sm for reading all this!! :D

oh this will be fun!! *cracks knuckles for the second time* I'll try to answer best I can!

-The economy is a bit strange. I think some people still kinda have jobs and make money, but money alone is probably not valued as much as "substances" or "favors" (Ex: "Get that fucker out of my bar and you'll get free drinks for the whole night" )

-Everyone's wardrobe is pretty emo-gothic, but I wouldn't describe it as a "Lambchop forced it to be" situation so much as. In the vision of Lambchop's perfect world this is just how society dresses. And so Stella dressing like this is more of a societally pressured thing. For one, there's probably not other clothing options. And if there is, dressing in a way that strays from the norm would be like affixing a giant target to her back--everyone would be trying to start shit with her. It's safer to blend in so people don't think you're soft.

-Most everyone is pretty prickly. And if they are "nice", it's a kind of niceness that incorporates violence into the mix--otherwise you'd be down for the count. Everyone's probably on "high defense mode" all the time and is just waiting for you to be the one that growls first.

-Most food is probably meat based. I don't imagine that everyone is just eating whoever they slaughter on the street (though some might) but rather there's some mysterious "meat processing" plants. Where's the meat come from? Don't spoil it by asking questions.

-I don't think Lambchop has any sort of special/magic powers that set him aside from everyone else. I think it's less of a "Lambchop controlling the world to be this way" and more of "The world itself shaping itself around his desires." Death is pretty common, though I hadn't considered the possibility of people coming back in this version too...interesting to think about.

-I think the possibility of some gang hierarchies exist, but I hadn't put too much thought into it. I do think some people might be more well-known either for being really good fighters and/or for starting trouble a lot. I feel like Lambchop wouldn't be the most well-known but might have a bit of a rep for being able to take people down.

-Combining some of your Stella questions into one, Stella's relationship with the planet is pretty...fraught. I think she's still got magic powers but they're nowhere near the the level of skill she's got in Sweet No Death. At most she can perform small magic, making things grow, levitating some smaller objects, etc. I feel like Stella's status as a star witch is vague even to herself--like maybe she got amnesia upon landing here, but she knows that things could surely be better than this... Stella tries to help people and sometimes they accept it and sometimes they don't, but when they do allow her to help she feels good inside and it helps restore a bit of her hope in the world.

I like to imagine that maybe Lambchop and Stella found each other when Stella was attempting to "fix" things instead of breaking them like everyone else, and Lambchop was a bit captivated by how different she was from everyone else. Stella would in turn see him as different from everyone else--less prickly, more smiley, and likes her company.

I think Lambchop and Stella are dating. They live in some dank, decrepit apartment building which probably isn't even owned by anyone anymore and they might be the only people in it. Stella's got something of a greenhouse on the balcony where she grows as many little plants as she can keep alive and can enjoy the feeling of fresh air for once.

Despite the general violence of the city and Lambchop preferring things this way, he and Stella have a pretty lovey relationship. They sleep in the same bed all cuddled up next to each other every night. If Stella is having a bad mental day (can't handle the stress of everything, being worried something really bad will happen to Lambchop if he goes out, etc) Lambchop will stay home with her and they'll spend the day snuggling and kissing and maybe working in her greenhouse. When Stella goes out Lambchop usually tries to be beside her. She's able to defend herself but he knows she doesn't *like* having to do that, so he doesn't mind being her bodyguard for anyone who would want to pick a fight with her. Sometimes they even try to go on dates outside despite how crazy everything is. When Lambchop gets into fights Stella bandages all his wounds when he gets hurt. She hates seeing him hurt but she loves seeing his smile as he recounts to her how he won. I think she uses whatever magic she has to help expedite his healing process.

-As for Star Witches, the thing about Star Witches is like...they are catty and judgemental but if you are another Star Witch they will not help you improve unless it benefits them in some way. They will come into your house and might adjust a crooked picture frame on the wall, but they won't clean up your kitchen or tidy up your living room or do your yard work for you. If they were to see a world like this they would not help it try to get better because it is not their monkeys, not their circus.

#i hope i answered everything?! i think?!#this is fun #this also goes under the assumption that is a different way for their world to be #rather than stella doing anything to make the world this way FOR him #maybe she'd do this as like a birthday present for a day idk #sweet no death #witchywool #stellamb #stella #lambchop #ask

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