#but like every day is a good day to be a dyke

[peppermintflowers]

logging onto tumblr to SCREAM into a void that will listen ILOVEHIMILOVEHIMILOVEHIM over and over and over again. he puts me back together when i fall apart he makes me laugh he gives me butterflies his smile is made of honey and starlight. im losing my fucking mind

[child-of-the-danube]

After so many years of education and fighting crippling perfectionism combined with ADHD and procrastination, I have finally found a solution:

Making a different "Do it for her" pic for every exam and putting it on my laptop and phone background to give me motivation cause apparently the one thing I needed to overcome my mental obstacles was the fear of disappointing a MILF that doesn't know I exist ☺️

[gutsfics]

FINALLY I DRAW SOMETHING!!!!!!!

some Joseph, both young (around 1980 i'd say, when he was traveling w Stan a few years before the portal incident) and old (~2017, now an art teacher at Westchester High). i like to think the first one is a picture Stan took of him while they were traveling and the second one is his staff photo at WH. the more things change the more they stay the same. i might give em backgrounds and foregrounds to look like that

he's had that jacket since the 70s. real leather will last you.

no glasses alts + the first sketch below

[handsomegentlebutch]

My 3 little cousins were baptized today. "Triggered" is kind of a strong word but being in a catholic church again... I'm a little fragile rn ngl.

[myxinidaes]

I think a lot about how a girl chafing against and actively rejecting the gender roles enforced upon them when they were young has been labeled internalized misogyny.

if you hate pink because you were forced to wear pink when you were younger bc thats what little girls wear? internalized misogyny, according to the internet. if you hate dolls because you got in trouble for wanting to play with dinosaurs and cars? internalized misogyny, according to the internet. if you resent the beauty industry and the way that in order to be seen as a human if you're not conventionally attractive, you need to redraw your face to fit constantly shifting beauty standards? internalized misogyny, according to the internet.

beginning to think that the average internet user doesn't know what internalized misogyny is! beginning to think that you all are unable to think critically about the world we live in and how our identities are used to sell products and enforce gender roles!

[j-psilas]

I'm going to throw a stone at a hornet's nest and say that the TERFs who like to claim Alison Bechdel as one of their own lack basic reading comprehension—and worse still, they lack shame.

There's an actual, honest-to-goodness, authentic, genuine strip of Dykes to Watch Out For in which Mo gets called out for her transphobia when she whines about sharing a restroom with a trans woman. Moreover, she then becomes the victim of bathroom policing herself, because butch women don't fit the cis-hetero-normative mold. It's all right there in the text, plain as day.

Just because Bechdel is a butch lesbian, and prefers that identity over "trans man" or "nonbinary," doesn't mean that she rejects the theory and rhetoric that produced those labels. That's child logic.

Cherry-picking her work to support their bigotry, just so they can claim lineage from a distinguished queer writer, is not only stupid and easily debunked, but it's deeply insulting. It betrays how little TERFs actually care about LGBTQ rights, feminism, or literature.

Any so-called "radfems" interacting with this post will be blocked—thereby cleaning up the "Alison Bechdel" tag for my browsing, so I don't have to wade through a bunch of bigotry every time I scroll through it. Thank you in advance. ❤️

[kirqro]

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི’ Streamer!Ellie

warnings || none !!

lower case intended

{ I LOVE streamer els :’( }

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⭒˚｡ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⭒˚⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⭒˚｡⋆⭒˚｡⭒˚｡⋆ ⭒˚｡⋆

✮ streamer!ellie ' who's set up is either a really shitty web cam or top tier. Either way she def takes pride in it !

જ⁀➴

✮ streamer!ellie ' who watches shitty reality tv shows on stream and her reactions to the scenes def had a part of her blowing up.

જ⁀➴

✮ streamer!ellie ' was really insecure when she was just starting out streaming , like poor baby would tape up her camera up in fear it would randomly turn on ;((

જ⁀➴

✮ streamer!ellie ' who after hitting a milestone finally did a face reveal and was shaking in her boots.

She was just yapping to yap lwky.. because of how nervous she is

"So chat are we perhaps rocking with my outfit !"

જ⁀➴

✮ streamer!ellie ' who fucks around with her soundboard way to much ..

like baby be pushing buttons at the wrong time

જ⁀➴

✮ streamer!ellie ' who be fighting with her viewers sometimes..

'@elliesbigfatlefttoe - Ellie why can I SEE your armpit hair peaking out bae..'

SHE SNAPS BACK SOO QUICK

"BIG FAT WHAT? .. The fuck come bite it off for me then weirdo"

જ⁀➴

✮ streamer!ellie ' who plays a variety of games from Minecraft , Valorant , Roblox , Fortnite [ she gets called dog water by random 10 year olds.. (╥﹏╥) ] a bunch of random horror games and some rpg games.

She also does chill talking streams & random reaction videos.

LMAO SHE DEF READS FANFICS ABT HERSELFF

જ⁀➴

✮ streamer!ellie ' who EATS on fashion famous

જ⁀➴

✮ streamer!ellie ' gets herself into random ass twitter beef and just takes all the roast she gets by 10 year old arianators..

જ⁀➴

✮ streamer!ellie ' is really just a big loser

જ⁀➴

✮ streamer gf!ellie ' who after she blew up needed to introduce you to her stream , or at least make it known shes MARRIED.

ellie randomly drops the gf bomb on everyone on a random thursday stream outta no where..

୨♡୧

It was a pretty chill just chatting stream

when ellie started to give her viewers a ring tour. the pads of her fingers brushed against a certain ring on her left hand . a smirk could be seen adoring ellie's face while she slipped it off and tried to be a lil beauty guru showing the ring off.

up close in action shots as she called it..

"It's a promise ring with the wifey you know !" she said with pride forming inside her chest and a smile falling on her face.

Tik tok and wlw twitter sighed that day..

જ⁀➴

✮ streamer gf!ellie ' who soft launches you and your identity.

જ⁀➴

✮ streamer gf!ellie ' who loves when you sit in her streaming room with her ! although she tends to get a bit shy knowing your presence is there

જ⁀➴

✮ streamer gf!ellie ' who talks the most shit with you about petty drama in her community ..

"babe you'll never guess who got cancelled .."

before you could even open up your lips to ask her what happened she cut you off in an instant

"bro that dyke abigail , her ex came forward saying she gave her fucking chlamydia.. goodness dirty ass bitch"

જ⁀➴

✮ streamer gf!ellie ' who loves the way you love her. she can't ever seem to really wrap her mind around the fact that you've really stuck around with her for this long!

જ⁀➴

✮ streamer gf!ellie ' who is wife !!

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⭒˚｡ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⭒˚⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⭒˚｡⋆⭒˚｡⭒˚｡⋆ ⭒˚｡⋆

Hii bbys I acc had sm fun writing this ! soo again maybe part two ?

Again requests are wide open so pls send some !!

ILYSMM and TYSM for reading !! (∩˃o˂∩)♡

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⭒˚｡ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⭒˚⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⭒˚｡⋆⭒˚｡⭒˚｡⋆ ⭒˚｡⋆

daily click for Palestine !!

from the river to the sea Palestine WILL be free!! 🍉

[superhaught]

Gym Class Heroes

Pairing: Regina George x Reader

Warnings: head injury, blood, homophobia

Word Count: 1600, Part 1/?

Part Two

Anonymous asked: Hey hun, sup? can i make a lil' request? i'd like to ask for a Regina George x Reader (reader is afab but kinda androgynous) where a fight breaks out at gym class and Regina steps in breaking out the fight because she gets really protective of reader (even though they never spoke before that day but both have like this unspoken attraction to one another) and takes care of reader's injuries? might lead to kissing. it's fluff with a bit of angst mixed in pls? Thanks a lot!!!!

It was your least favorite part of the day: gym class. 

You hated it. Hated it.

Not that you didn’t like being active or didn’t enjoy learning about exercise and the human body and nutrition, that was all fine.

You hated the locker room. You hated the jocks. You hated getting sweaty and smelly halfway through your school day. You hated the stench of the gym and the feel of the rubber floors. You hated fitness tests. And you didn’t particularly enjoy Coach Carr. 

But… It wasn't all bad. 

There was always Regina. 

At first, you were terrified to have gym with her. You were certain that she would find ways to make you feel self-conscious the entire semester, not necessarily intentionally, that was just her way. But, that didn’t end up being the case. 

You still never spoke to her, but every once in a while, you caught her glancing at you. In the locker room as you changed into your cutoff shirts, when you were running laps or doing sit ups, even when you were just taking notes, you could feel her eyes on you. 

You would look, and she would look away, and you’d get all flustered by her cropped tank tops and high-waisted leggings, then you’d look away again, trying to hide your reddened cheeks. 

You had to be delusional, though. There was no way that Regina George was actually crushing on you. You had to be making it up. 

Thank goodness for small miracles. It was Friday and when you entered the gym, Coach Carr yelled out that it would just be a free gym day. No particular lesson or game to worry about, everyone could just pick an activity and do what they wanted as long as they were being active. You breathed a sigh of relief and went to go grab a basketball.

You posted up at one of the hoops with a few others who were just going to practice taking shots quietly. You put your earbuds in and started playing music on your phone and began to just blissfully zone out. You took turns with your peers practicing layups and free throws while sneaking glances across the gym at Regina who was lobbing a volleyball back and forth with Gretchen. You couldn't help but notice how good she looked.

You didn’t notice Coach Carr leaving the gym to take his daily smoke break. 

You didn’t notice Shane Ohman and his buddies approaching you. 

You didn’t notice them hollering insults at you, not until it was too late. 

“Hey! I’m talking to you, you fucking dyke!” 

Shane chucked his basketball through the air at full force and it smacked into your temple. You saw stars and went straight to the ground, feeling the sting of the skin of your eyebrow splitting and the warm wetness of fresh blood pouring down the side of your face from the wound. 

One of Shane’s friends said, “ohhh shiiit.”

“That’s what you get for fucking checking out my girls’ ass, you lesbo!” Shane shouted. 

The group of guys were only egging him on, and as far as you knew, everyone else was stunned into silence. You vaguely saw the shape of Shane hovering over you before a flash of blonde ponytail entered your vision. 

“Your girl!? Now I know you better not be talking about me you fucking piece of shit. I dumped your smarmy ass so what fucking business do you have coming to my defense against someone who’s half your size? Get the fuck out of here before I get your dad and Principal Duvall in the same room and tell them you committed a hate crime and get your athletic scholarship flushed down the toilet or worse!” 

You heard the sounds of feet quickly sprinting away on the gym floor and then saw the blonde crouch down beside you through your good eye. 

“That looks bad,” she winced, lightly touching your shoulder. She turned her head to speak to someone else, “Gretchen, go get Coach Carr and tell him what happened, yeah? We’re going straight to the nurses’ office.”

Before you could process, Regina was helping you stand up and was acting as a crutch for you. She helped you make your way out of the gym through the locker room. She stopped for a moment to grab a clean towel and pressed it against the wound on your head and the pressure made you feel faint.

“Fuck I need to sit…” you gasped. 

“Okay, okay,” she quickly guided you down to a bench and sat beside you, still holding the towel to your head, “There you go, take it easy.” 

You peered at her as she slowly came into focus.

“Regina, why are you helping me?” 

“Why not?” 

“Well… because you’re you?” 

The corner of her mouth raised into a little smirk, “I don’t know what you mean.” 

“I don’t take you for the helping kind.” 

“How about you worry less about talking and more about staying conscious. Do you think you can walk with me to the nurse?” 

You made a solid effort to stand back up but you immediately felt lightheaded and plopped back down, shaking your head lightly. 

“Alright, we’ll stay here then.” Regina looked around the locker room and located a first aid kit on the wall, “okay, I need you to lie down slowly on the bench, slowly, and hold the towel, I’m gonna get the first aid kit just hang in there.” 

You replaced her hand on the towel with yours and held it against your head as you lied down and she got up. She came back a second later holding the first aid kit. 

Regina carefully peeled the towel away and winced along with you, “okay, I’m not a doctor obviously but I don’t think you need stitches? You probably have a concussion, though, so I think you should go to a doctor or something but I don’t want to move you for now.” 

She started fussing with things in the first aid kit and explained, “I’m just going to clean the cut and bandage it up for the time being, okay? It looks like it’s not bleeding anymore so that’s good.” 

You nodded and watched her, “you’re surprisingly caring…” 

“What did I say about talking?” 

You snapped your mouth closed. 

“Little sting,” Regina covered your eyelid with her hand and sprayed antiseptic solution onto the wound then gently wiped it with gauze. 

“How do you even bandage an eyebrow?” She muttered. 

“The butterfly ones, or the strip-type bandages to pull the edges together, and then gauze over it.” You offer. 

“Huh, okay.” 

Regina took her time finding the right things and carefully tending to you. 

“Do you think I’m going to have a scar?” 

“Maybe. Probably,” Regina answered, “it’ll look cool if you do. Very rugged.” 

“Stupid story behind it…” 

“I’m going to have Shane roasted on a spit for doing this to you, I promise you that.” 

“Oh jeez, Regina. You don’t have to do that.” 

“Did it sound like I was asking?” 

You swallowed and tested sitting up slowly after she finished bandaging you up. 

“Slow, slow…” she commanded, holding onto your upper arms.

You nodded and came to an upright position without feeling faint, “I already feel a lot better. Thanks, Regina.” 

“I still think you need to leave school and go to the doctor to get checked for a concussion. You don’t need an ambulance or anything like that, probably. We can call your parents or honestly I can drive you if your parents are working…”

“Oh… that’s really nice of you. I’ll call my mom and see what she thinks.” 

She nodded and checked your bandages again. She was fussing over you in a weirdly concerned, maternal way. 

“Regina?” 

“Hmm?” 

“How come no one sees this side of you?” 

She raised an eyebrow, “most people don’t earn this side of me.” 

“But I do?” 

“Sure.” 

You didn’t really have a good response to that so you just stayed quiet while Regina got up and got you some water and then texted Gretchen updates. 

“Gretchen will bring Coach Carr in here in a sec to check in, is that okay?” 

You nodded. 

Regina examined you again, “can I ask you a question?” 

“What’s up?” 

“Were you actually checking out my ass earlier?” 

Your face flushed like crazy, “wh-what?” 

“Shane said you were checking out my ass. Were you?”

You just stared at her. 

“You can be honest, I won’t be upset either way.” 

“I…” you took a deep breath, “yes. I was. You look incredible in those leggings.” 

Regina smiled, “good. I mean, not good that you took a basketball to the face for it, but good that you were checking me out.” 

“You’re not upset?” 

“No. Why would I be upset?“ 

“Because… I dunno, I guess because I’m no better than a gross guy?” 

Regina rolled her eyes, “no. Trust me, it’s a compliment from you.” 

Coach Carr came into the girls locker room while unnecessarily covering his eyes and quickly checked in with you, saying, “alright chief, we already called your mom and she’s on her way to pick you up, okay? We’ll get you to the front office to wait. After that, Regina, Gretchen wants you to come with her to Principal Duvall’s office to tell him what you saw happen, k?” 

Regina nodded. 

“Go team,” he added before ducking back out. 

Regina looked at you, “Did he just call you chief?” 

You shrugged, “I guess so.” 

You both laughed and Regina walked you to the front of the school to wait for your mom. She waved at you as you got into your mom’s van and you watched as the blonde turned and angrily stormed in the direction of the principal’s office, now on a new mission. 

Next Chapter

[genderkoolaid]

I feel like you would get this, seeing this comment section kinda hurt. The OP they are responding to is a non-binary trans man who was talking about feeling uncomfortable because they still feel attraction to lesbians and have felt very excluded. He’s wary around certain lesbians because they center their ideology around hating men regardless of gender identity and has faced a lot of anti-transmasculinity and transmisogyny. While most lesbians are wonderful amazing people there’s no denying that some do hold an innate hatred for men, not saying they need to like men. I fully understand lesbians and predatory cis men but there’s definitely lesbians who would date trans men. It can be scary for a trans man to come out or start transitioning because at what point do they become too masculine or too much of a man for their friends. There were even people in the comments saying the same anti-man statements who identify as a he/him nonbinary lesbian. This topic is very hard to hear for me as a closeted genderfluid person because my best friend is a man hating lesbian and I dread the day I can actually begin transitioning and she turns her back on me like these people. Queer spaces in general can be hard to occupy as a multi gendered person because of those people as well as mlm/nblm spaces that say ‘fem aligned dni’. In general I don’t think we should police labels and everyone has their own interpretation and I think labels are just a suggestion anyway but I suppose that makes sense for a genderfluid bisexual person.

These people just straight up do not understand the gender diversity that has always existed in lesbian spaces (by which I mean spaces built & catering to queer women & those seen as women).

There have always been trans men in lesbian spaces. You aren't obligated to fuck them, but they have always been there. There are pages and pages of writing out there not only by trans male dykes, but by the lesbian cis women who love them and still identify as lesbians while in relationships with them. There are trans guys at dyke bars right now as we speak having a great time.

Its not surprising to me that there are he/him NB lesbians supporting this. There are a lot of people out there who, because they don't identify As Men, mentally distance themselves from those who do despite any similarities. It's okay for THEM to be lesbians, and it's transphobic to erase THEIR lesbianism because they are Non-Men™! but once you cross that line you become the enemy. It's very "no you gyns I'm TOTALLY different than those gross tbros i promise im not a man at all and i will never want to be one so im allowed in the club!" The same people also throw multigender people under the bus. Trying to figure out your nonbinary in this environment is hellish (I speak from experience) because people pretend like they are super accepting of nonbinary people, until you realize that if you ever think of yourself as even slightly male people will start seeing you as a predatory invader trying to Force Lesbians To Date Men! Very "complex gender for me but not for thee"

Anyways. Twitter is not a good place. Anon, I hope you find better friends. Not every queer space is this hostile to us, I promise. There are people out there who genuinely work to make our community better and I hope you find them.

[vaspider]

Intro Post, updated August 25, 2024

Due to the unfortunate level of scam requests I have received, I no longer reblog donation or fundraiser requests from blogs I do not recognize. Don't follow me just to submit a signal boost request. I notice, & I will just delete your ask and block you.

No, that doesn't mean I think you, personally, are a scammer. I just don't have the hours in my day to sift through the number of asks I get and verify them, so if I don't recognize someone from prior interaction, I just won't do it. Yes, I agree. It does suck that shitty people have made this necessary.

I post all other asks as they were submitted, with the exception of fundraisers from blogs I don't recognize. I answer at my whim and not upon demand. I will never honor requests to answer asks privately or anonymously. Anon is never turned on. These are hard self-care boundaries. Please block the tag "harassment tag" if you don't want to see to some of the horrible shit I get sent sometimes.

I will only reblog/repost/boost a given fundraiser once every 7 days. Period. Sending me more asks will not change that. If you only interact with me to ask for signal boosts, I'll just block you with no response. That is the only exception to my "post all asks" policy. I am a person, not a public resource. Don't make me feel used. It's exhausting.

If you like what I do, please consider hiring me, buying something from my company, NerdyKeppie, buying me a coffee, becoming a Patron or tossing some money in my PayPal tip jar. I am a disabled, queer, Jewish, non-binary butch, and those sources plus freelance writing are my entire income.

I will not debate my identity with anyone. I am a transmasculine non-binary butch lesbian, a cripple, a dyke, and lots of other things, too. You don't get a vote in that, and if any of those words are words you object to someone using in reference to himself, block me. I won't censor my identity for your comfort; it took a lot of hard work over decades to become proud of who I am.

ACAB includes gender/sexuality cops. You aren't the mayor of Dyketown, fuck off.

Mom is a job title to me. I'm okay with being called Mama Spider, but no other feminine terms.

No, I am not an anti or an anti-anti. Leave me alone.

No, I won't DM you.

No, I won't answer your question about Israel.

No, I won't talk to you about I/P.

Nothing above the above two things means anything other than that I don't talk about those things online.

Don't project your shit onto me. I do not consent to being your straw man.

I will not perform Good Jew or Good Queer on demand, whatever that means to you in this instant. Fuck off.

Yes, I've been out for a very long time. No, I'm not interested in being lectured by people half my age over shit that happened when you weren't alive yet.

"Man bad/woman good" is regressive TERF/right-wing shit, it doesn't matter how you dress it up. Knock it off.

Curate your own experiences. If you don't like seeing what I write, then add 'vaspider' to your "filtered content" list and don't bother me about it. Tumblr is a 17+ environment and I am not responsible for you seeing things you don't like. My daughter is now an adult. I raised my kid. I'm not raising you or any other kids.

Anyone who tries to turn you on your fellow trans people or fellow Jews is a fucking Fed. Act accordingly.

My icon has lore, apparently.

I never answer asks privately and anon is never turned on.

[rxmqnova]

Winning you

Story: It's Wanda's birthday and Y/N is trying to win her over Vision… ——————————————————

NO ONE'S POV It's Wanda's birthday today and Y/N's been super excited for it. She's planned a lot of things for the day and plans to finally confess her feelings for the witch at the end of it.

Y/N has a huge crush on Wanda ever since she met her. She's been wanting to tell her for a long time, but every time she's tried something happened, so hopefully she'll finally tell her tonight.

But Y/N is not the only one who has a crush on Wanda. There's also Vision who always happens to somehow drag Wanda away when her and Y/N are spending time together.

According to Y/N's plan, she starts with making breakfast for the birthday girl. She makes some pancakes, knowing Wanda loves them.

And once everything's ready, she picks everything up and starts walking upstairs to Wanda's room, meeting Vision half way through and receiving a not very nice look from him.

Y/N couldn't care less though. She's determined to win Wanda over for good.

As quietly as possible, she sets everything up on Wanda's desk, adding a little sweet note for Wanda when she wakes up.

Leaving Wanda's room again, she makes her way over to her own room to get ready for the day.

———

Holding the first gift for Wanda, Y/N makes her way back to the kitchen. Wanda should hopefully be there soon.

"Someone's in a good mood today" Natasha teases, seeing her best friend walk into the kitchen.

"Mhm. You know well why, so stop teasing. The day needs to be perfect" Y/N states, taking a seat on the barstool to wait for Wanda to come.

"Wanda will have the perfect day with me, don't worry" Vision interrupts, a smug smile on his face.

Before Y/N can respond, Wanda steps into the kitchen, a bright smile on her face, making Y/N's worries go away immediately as she gets lost in Wanda's beauty.

"Yeah, sure" Wanda's sweet voice gets Y/N back to reality, her eyes widening when she sees Vision talking to her and handing the brunette a bouquet of roses.

Vision's quick to send Y/N a smirk when he turns around to walk aside. Y/N shakes it off, making her way over to Wanda, a warm smile on her face.

"Happy birthday, Wands!"

"Thank you" Wanda smiles, her cheeks turning red a little bit. "And thank you for the breakfast. It was delicious"

"That was nothing. I-I got you something" Y/N says, nervousness taking over her as she hands Wanda the box she's been holding.

She watches nervously as Wanda opens the box and gasps when she finds inside an entire The Dick Van Dyke Show sitcom collection.

"How… how did you know?" Wanda asks, trying to stop the tears that are filling her eyes as this sitcom reminds her of her childhood.

"You mentioned you used to watch it with your family when you were small, so I thought you might like it" Y/N explains, immediately getting pulled into a tight hug by the brunette.

"Thank you so much, Y/N/N" Wanda nearly whispers, giving Y/N a warm smile which Y/N returns.

"I. Hm. I-I was hoping that maybe you and I could have lunch together? I-I have planned something and-"

"Sorry to ruin that for you, but Wanda's already going out for lunch with me" Vision jumps in, cutting Y/N's sentence off.

"Oh… well, maybe when you come back we could spend some time together?"

"We'll go straight to Tony's party" Vision answers for Wanda who was about to say something. "Go get ready, darling. We should head out soon"

Vision rushes Wanda out of the kitchen, Wanda only having time to shoot Y/N an apologetic look.

Cursing under her breath Y/N watches as Vision disappears along with Wanda.

"He ruined everything, I planned a picnic for Wanda and he just needs to ruin it" Y/N sighs, looking at Natasha. "Why would he even take her out on lunch? He doesn't even eat food… Calm down, Y/N. You still can do it. Surely you'll have a chance to dance with her on the party. Then you'll take her on the balcony and give her the bracelet" Y/N takes a deep breath, calming herself down before turning around and going to her room, leaving an absolutely confused Natasha in the kitchen.

———

Spotting Wanda dancing with Vision Y/N heads straight to the bar, ordering a drink and taking a seat, watching the pair having fun.

But when two hours pass and Wanda is still with Vision, either dancing on sitting on the couch and sipping a drink, she stands up, deciding she needs some fresh air.

Tears fill her eyes as she sits down on the balcony, taking out of her purse the bracelet she bought for Wanda.

Wanda's always looked at this exact piece of jewelry every time they were passing the jewelry store and Y/N's been super excited to see Wanda's reaction once she would give it to her.

Thinking she completely lost her chance and Vision won Wanda's heart, the sweet voice speaks up behind her.

"There you are, I've been looking for you" Wanda says, taking a seat next to Y/N on which Y/N's quick to wipe away her tears. "What are you doing here all alone?"

"Just thinking" Y/N mumbles out, looking down on the ground to avoid any possible eye-contact with the witch. "Why are you here? It looked like you're having a good time with Vision"

"Well, having a good time is not how I would describe it" Wanda sighs.

"I… I have one more gift here for you. Can you close your eyes?" Y/N mumbles out a requests.

And just like Y/N wanted, Wanda closes her eyes, so Y/N takes Wanda's hand in hers, putting on the bracelet.

"Y/N" Wanda sighs. "This is too much. It's really beautiful and I really wanted it, but I know the price. I can't take it"

"Wanda, I'm not going to return it. I know how much you liked it and I want you to have it… I like the green gemstone in it, matches your beautiful eyes" Y/N smiles, noticing the pink color on Wanda's cheeks.

Instead of getting a verbal response, Wanda connects her lips with Y/N's. She's been wanting to do this for as long as Y/N has and today only proved her right… that Y/N feels the same way.

----------------------

HAPPY BIRTHDAY WANDA!!! <33

Wanda Maximoff masterlist

Masterlist

[theprettynosferatu]

CONTENT WARNING. NO, FOR REAL, READ THIS FIRST.

This story contains strong themes and graphic non-consensual sex. If you feel they might affect you adversely, skip this one.

Andrea is being tormented in college by a bigoted popular girl. Her daddy has always helped her... maybe he can help her get some justice...

CW: Incest, non-con, SA, orientation play (F-straight to bi)

I - No Expiration Date

She felt ridiculous. She probably looked ridiculous too, sitting against the wall, grabbing her knees, almost shaking, all in the middle of the hallway. Most made a point to not look at her, rushing to their classes, their dorms or wherever the hell they needed to be with such haste. Well, Andrea knew they only rushed because of her, to give themselves a plausible excuse to avoid doing the right thing and checking up on the poor, weird girl hyperventilating on the ground.

The worst part was that Andrea knew she shouldn’t let it get to her. If anything, it was Kate that should be ashamed of herself, not Andrea- fuck, to say such things in these days was almost quaint in its ignorance, and if Andrea chose to make a stink, grounds for expulsion. Would it be considered a hate crime? Maybe. But going up to the dean or whoever like a poor little victim felt so… humiliating. Perhaps more so than Kate’s constant, whispered words and stories. And some idiots actually listened to her! 

Andrea supposed that was the big perk of having a rich, connected daddy. Even the most moronic and bigoted statements found an audience eager to please, if only for the unspoken promise of future gifts, recommendations, networking opportunities. Shit, even the dean might sweep the whole thing under the rug just to please her family. Andrea could feel the rage building up inside her chest, making her almost sick. Part of it was the stench of injustice that surrounded the whole deal. But most of her anger was directed at herself. It wasn’t as if any of this was new to her: she had come out in highschool. Every insult and every joke and every slur had been thrown at her a thousand times over already. 

But… college was supposed to be different. Even the teachers that saw the abuse in her younger years had told her so. It will get better. You’ll get out of here, and in college all this will be a distant memory. That hope had kept her going even as everyone forgot her name and simply called her “The Dyke” her entire senior year. But those were kids. Kate was a fucking adult. And yet, bigotry seemed to have no expiration date.

Fuck. The bullying wasn’t even fucking accurate! Andrea had been openly bi for years, but apparently the nuances of sexual orientation were irrelevant when it came to making one person the butt of every facile joke, a stepping stone to get some sweet, addicting attention. And Kate loved nothing more than attention. Good, bad, who cared? As long as the spotlight was on her, whatever hole she had in what she called a soul was temporarily filled. Fucking go to therapy, you cunt! Did daddy not hug you enough? Used dollars as a substitute for affection? Boo-hoo. It didn’t justify a goddamn thing.  

Andrea took a deep breath and managed to get up. Her Social Psych lecture was about to start, and Andrea knew she would skip it, even if she tried to fool herself for a moment, to force her legs to walk towards the classroom. Step by step, she headed for her dorm room. Fuck. Another absence. Kate was even fucking up her academic life. But what could Andrea do? Go to the professor and explain that, sorry, I couldn’t make it because the rich girl made fun of me?

She threw herself on the bed with punishing force. A miniature form of self-harm, she figured. Sometimes she hated majoring in psychology: that little voice that analyzed her actions almost made her feel like she was performing her suffering, rather than feeling it fully. And that distancing might also be a defense mechanism. Well, shit. How does one turn their brain off?

Andrea felt a pang in her chest, a familiar longing for home. Sure, it wasn’t a perfect place and money was always tight. Sure, her mother had vanished when she was barely one year old. Sure, the old place was in dire need of repairs and an update. But it was home. Of course, she knew she was lying to herself by omission. She was trying not to think of the one person that made it a home, and inevitably, in trying to suppress the idea, it came to her twice as strong. Daddy. Her father was her home, and it made her feel childish, helpless, as if she was ten and running to him whenever things went poorly. That her mind still went to him filled her with shame.

Oh, bullshit. You know damn well why you don’t want to think about him.

She couldn’t tell when it had happened, exactly. It had been something slow, growing inside her, indirectly pushing her subconscious. If she looked back at her dating history, a pattern emerged, one hidden at the time but blindingly obvious in retrospect: similar to dad, similar to dad… and then, when an errant comment by a friend (“All I’m saying is, like, for an old guy… you’re dad is kinda hot”) opened her eyes, she swerved in an attempt to escape her feelings. Different from dad, different from dad… The problem with “different from dad” was, of course, that those guys were, well, different from her dad. 

The summer before college had been the worst. She did her best to be home as little as possible.

Before she knew it, twin emotions were boiling over inside her. The first made her feel sick to her stomach, made her muscles tense up, made her breathing shallow and quick, as if she was about to leap and bite some animal’s neck. It was rage, pure and shining, clad with the garment of a righteous need for justice. It isn’t fair. It isn’t fucking fair. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. That fucking bitch. She needs to suffer. She needs to be punished. She needs to fucking learn some humility. And at the same time, the second feeling snuck up on her, traveling in the shadow of the first, mingling with it until they became one, like snakes mating. Dad. She needs to suffer, dad. Make her suffer for me. Please. Please, daddy. Do this for me and I’ll… 

Andrea snapped back to reality, horrified. She moved her hand from between her legs, not even knowing when she had started playing with herself. Fuck, she was soaked. Shame almost brought her to tears, until Kate’s sneering face popped back in her mind. She had endured enough for one day. She had earned a little bit of fantasy. Just that. It wasn’t as if she’d ever do anything about… well, anything. But she could imagine, couldn’t she? She wasn’t that much of a coward- she could dare to imagine Kate, and dad, and… 

Fuck it. Who cared if it was wrong. She needed release.

Andrea let her hand go back between her legs.

II - The Call

Mike found himself staring at his phone. His morning coffee had gotten cold, but he took a sip anyway, almost as an automatic action. He couldn’t stop playing the conversation back in his head over and over.

“Dad, I’m on my way. I need your help. I… I’ll explain…”

“Andrea, are you okay? What happened?”

“I… I’ll be there in about an hour. I kinda… I don’t want to talk over the phone. Dad, I… nevermind. We’ll talk when I get there.”

And that had been it. No clues, no hint, nothing to guide him except the tone in his daughter’s voice. She was scared, and she was suffering, and that was all that he needed to know. Whatever it was that was harming her girl, he’d move Heaven and Earth to make it better. That much he knew, deep in his heart. Still, he couldn’t stop picturing the worst possible scenarios.

He tried to remain calm. Sexual assault on college campuses is… 

Mike pushed the thought away.  

Restrictions on reproductive rights have…

Snippets of news stories slapped him. The world could be a terrifying place for a young woman. But that was why they had chosen a college close to home. So Andrea could always come to him if she needed help. And she clearly needed help. Stay focused, old man. She needs you to be strong. Don’t let her see you panic. 

He needed to be strong for her. That was all he always wanted to be, more than anything: a rock, a place of stability, a North Star for the one thing that mattered in his life. They had faced the world together. They had survived poverty together. They had endured the pain of an absent mother and wife together. They had managed a retrograde high school that tormented Andrea together. She had saved his life as much as he had fostered hers. Without his girl, Mike wasn’t sure where he would be- perhaps underground. She had been the reason to dig deep, to find strength, to endure, always. 

Don’t let her see you panic.

Don’t let her see you looking at her.

He shook the intrusive thought off. Andrea needed him, not his fucked up neuroses, not the secret shame the last months of living together had awakened in him.

One hour stretched into a year, and Mike practically leaped out the door as soon as he heard the car pulling over. The first thing he noticed was his daughter’s panicked face, and that alone was enough to make his heart feel like it was about to burst out of his chest. The second thing he noticed was the other girl, passed out in the passenger’s seat. Andrea rushed into his arms, and he held her tight, trying to will some degree of peace into her mind. First things first.

“Are you okay?”, he asked.

“Yes, I’m… I’m fine.”, Andrea sobbed.

Good. Now to do what he did best: fix things.

“Ok, so, your friend…”

“She’s not my friend.”

“What did she take? Did you take anything? Look, I’m not… I won’t get mad, I just need to know what she may have taken… is it just booze? No, couldn’t be… Benzos? Or… Christ, I don’t know what you guys take these days in college…”

“Dad! She didn’t take anything!”

“Are you sure? Maybe she went into some bathroom and did something… okay. First things. We need to call an ambulance…”

“Dad, please! Listen to me! I’ll explain everything. But we need to get her inside before anyone sees-”

“Andrea, this girl is passed out! She needs medical attention! Who knows what-”

“I know what she took because I gave it to her, okay? She’s just asleep! And she should be asleep for… maybe another couple of hours. Daddy, please… I swear I’ll explain. Just help me get her into the house, okay?”

Mike felt dumbfounded. The idea that his Andrea had roofied some other girl was so distant from his image of her, from the girl he had raised, that the contradiction felt impossible to resolve. It was a paralyzing feeling, one he couldn’t entirely put into words. All he knew was he didnt like it one bit. He was a man of action. He needed to do things, more than ponder feelings. And the thing to do, if only to escape that horrid sensation, was to get the poor girl out of the car.

They dragged Kate into the house, and laid her down on Andrea’s bed- a task that, Mike noticed, his daughter undertook with less care than he would have liked. Back in the living room, he looked at his daughter and put on his best stern face. Stern was good. It hid other ideas that came into his mind when he looked directly at Andrea.

“Explain.”

Andrea broke down in tears.

“Daddy, that girl… Kate.. she’s… she’s making my life Hell! She tortures me every day, makes fun of me, spreads rumors about me… people think… I don’t even know what they think about me anymore. So I can’t make any friends. Just like high school. It’s the same damn thing! And they all said… you said college would be different! But it’s not! Maybe it’s my fault. Maybe I’m just… I don’t know. Broken. Maybe people can smell I’m weird, or weak, or… and they know they can abuse me and mock me and… It’s not fair! And I didn’t know what to do, I wasn’t thinking straight… I just put a couple of pills in her tea, and… I freaked out. I needed to feel safe, and I feel safe here… with you.”

Mike took it all in. He had to admit the sight of his precious daughter in such despair was enough to pierce any ideas of being tough he might have. And yes, it wasn’t fair. The world wasn’t fair at all. Andrea was beautiful, smart, creative… but there would always be those people who couldn’t understand someone being different, loving who they loved, being their authentic self. He got the anger. He got the frustration. He hated that Andrea had been driven to this point. But there was a big thing to address.

“Honey… I know… but you can’t just… just… kidnap someone!”

Andrea couldn’t help herself. She ran into her father’s arms, and hugged him tight.

“Daddy… I didn’t know what to do. I…”

She went silent. Mike couldn’t find the words to console her, to lecture her, to say anything at all. All he could do was feel the warmth of her body pressed against him, intuit her soft curves, take in the smell of her shampoo, her skin. It was intoxicating, and for once he let himself feel… whatever it was he was feeling. He let himself enjoy the moment, and even the sleeping girl in the bedroom seemed to fade away from his consciousness. They simply lingered, holding each other, taking it all in.

Such a moment couldn’t last. It shouldn’t last. Mike forced himself to speak, to say… whatever he could muster.

“What… I don’t know what you expect me to do…”

He felt Andrea’s hands on his back holding him tighter. He felt her warm breath on his ear, sending shivers down his spine as she whispered before the words even registered in his brain.

“Daddy… please… fuck her for me. Fucking rape the cunt… show her her place. Daddy… break her with your cock. For me.”

III - Persuasion 

Andrea couldn’t tell exactly what happened to her, what shifted within herself in that embrace, what damn had finally broken in her mind. Even as her father pushed her away with a horrified look on his face, she could see him- almost as if for the first time. A veil that had been dulling her sight for so, so long had finally vanished. Yes, she saw everything so clearly now, with such simple purity, devoid of fear or shame or silly excuses. It was a bizarre sensation, to finally be able to accept without doubt or hesitation the truth, so long buried.

She wanted to fuck him.

He wanted to fuck her.

So obvious. So simple. So powerful. Andrea wasn’t going to run away from it anymore. And she could see, under the mask of horror worn by her father, beneath the shock in his eyes, something else. Stirring. 

Suddenly, Andrea felt powerful. Immense. Sexy. In control. The fact that she had become one with her secret desires and he hadn’t brought a predatory joy to her chest… and something else, both an anger and a need. In her heart she could see not just what her father was but what he could be, what he could become, what he needed to be. She could almost smell it- the strong, conquering Man suffocated by the dull veneer of morality and social norms. Yes, she felt powerful- but she didn’t need to be strong. She needed to be taken by him. She needed to bring the beast forth, somehow. To make him see himself as she saw him. To make him see her as she wanted to be seen.

She smiled inside, even as her father almost recoiled from her. It was all a game, now. One she intended to win.

In the blink of an eye her entire demeanor, her posture, the way she looked at her father shifted. For a second she was the perfect picture of innocence, of a young woman in need of rescue.

“Daddy… please… I need your help. Won’t you help your little girl? I promise I’ll be good. I’ll be so… so good to you, Daddy. I’ll be your good little girl. Your obedient… slutty… little daughter”, she smiled as she took one step towards her father, her body now swaying like a cat slowly approaching its prey. She took a moment to delight in the confusion in her father’s eyes, the tension increasing almost to a breaking point.

“I… what are you…”, managed to mumble Mike. Oh, it was so pathetic it became cute.

“Daddy… you think I haven’t noticed the way you look at me recently? It must be so, so hard for you… to see your little girl all grown up, and you all alone… that’s not fair, is it?”, said Andrea as she closed the distance with her now paralyzed father. Oh, this was too much fun. “You have been a bad daddy in your mind, haven’t you? That sounds so painful! Knowing it’s soooo wrong to think about your little girl like that… having to pretend you don’t want to… Fuck. Your. Daughter. Oh daddy, don’t blush! Surprised to hear such naughty words coming from my cute mouth? Or… do you like me having such a potty mouth?”

Andrea, in a swift motion ran her hand over her father’s crotch. Yes. She could feel it. So hard. So warm. She was right. He was breaking.

“Feels like your daddy cock likes me talking like a dirty slut! Don’t be ashamed! I love to imagine your cock getting so hard for me… I love to know I can make it so, so happy… And only using my words! Just talking like the hopeless little fucking whore I am… for you… just knowing you can use my tight holes whenever you want… however you want… and I’ll take it like a good girl! I am your good girl, daddy. You made me, after all… you own me… you can own every inch of my slutty, smooth body…”

Suddenly, she took a step back, her eyes almost in tears. She was the very picture of anguish, of despair, of vulnerability. Mike opened his mouth to speak, but he found no words came to him. He just watched, fighting his need to hug her, to protect her, to tell her he would make everything right again.

“Daddy… I’m so sorry… I don’t know what got into me. I just feel so confused, so disoriented, and… I don’t know. It’s like I have all these feelings inside me and they get all mixed up and I can’t really tell what I feel anymore, and it hurts so much. It hurts, Daddy. And that girl… Kate… I can’t tell you how much she’s hurt me, how she has been messing with my mind and making me so miserable… and… and I guess, I’m not sure, just… I thought you could help me, Daddy. You always could help me. You always could make me feel like everything would be okay, that I wasn’t a freak, or…”

“Honey, you are not a freak! You know this. You’ve been so brave, so strong, so true to yourself, even when everyone gave you grief over it!” He couldn’t help himself anymore. He held his sweet girl in his arms.

“But I… I did a bad thing, Daddy. I brought Kate here… I couldn’t think of anything else to do to make her stop, to make her leave me alone…”

“I know. And yes, you did a… wrong thing. But that doesn’t make you a monster, or evil or anything like that, okay? We’ll… I’ll find a way… I’ll help you. I’ll… fix it, somehow.”

“Will you rape her for me? Will you punish her with your cock for hurting your little girl? I’ll be so, so good for you if you do it, daddy… I’ll be the bestest daughter ever for you!”

Mike tried to pull away before he was interrupted by the sensation of warm, soft lips on his own. Time stopped. He felt dizzy, trapped in the feeling, the scent of skin, the rush of adrenaline in his chest. He panicked as he realized he didn’t stop it in time. He didn’t stop it as time stretched. He wasn’t stopping it even as the thoughts flooded his mind. It took Mike every ounce of willpower to push his daughter away.

Oh, it was so fun to see her Daddy so confused, so aroused, so disoriented. But Kate would wake up soon. Andrea needed to land the killing blow on whatever resistance her dear dad had left.

“I’m sorry Daddy… it’s just that I love you so, so much…” One slow, seductive step towards him. “I was bad, Daddy. I shouldn’t have done that, right? Does that make me a bad girl? A bad daughter?” Another step. So close now. “I’m so, so sorry for being bad, Daddy. I’m sorry I made your cock all hard for me and teased you and used all those dirty, dirty words. Will you punish me, Daddy? Will you make me good again, show me my place? I think you should. I think you should take your cock, and-”

One final step, and Mike snapped. For the first time in his life, he slapped his daughter. Horror set on his face, and it became a mixture of bewilderment and fire when he noticed Andrea’s reaction. She was smiling.

“Mmmmh… so strong, Daddy. Do it again. Punish me. Show me you own me. Make me your bitch!”

It was over for Mike. Something primal, something awful had taken hold of him. 

His hand on her neck. Hers rubbing his cock over his pants. Her soft moans. Kisses that turned into bites. His own mumbled, jumbled words. Little cunt. Evil fucking bitch. Her words, playing off his. Your little cunt. Your good little girl. Her face against the wall. Her movements, grinding her ass against him. Her hands on his chest, pushing him back. 

So many lines crossed. Mike knew, deep down, he had broken something inside himself. Or maybe she had broken it in him. It didn’t matter. He looked down at the beautiful, perfect woman kneeling and smiling. He saw his daughter, yes, but his eyes were now different. The barrier that kept the idea of “daughter” and “sex” apart simply didn’t exist anymore. He felt adrift, caught by a whirlwind he couldn’t stop- one he didn’t want to stop. 

Victory. It looked like victory. Victory over herself, over her old fears. Victory over his attempts at doing the “right thing”. Further victory to come, as well. And it didn’t hurt that the cock that made her was a rather large one, veiny and beautiful. He tried to keep herself in check. She knew exactly what to do, which went against everything her body was screaming for her to do. No matter how much she needed to feel that cock deep inside her pussy, no matter how much she longed to taste his cum on her tongue, she would have to wait. She couldn’t risk some post nut clarity throwing further objections to her plan. She kept her mind on Kate as she licked, kissed, loved his member. She was alert, ready to stop before he went over the edge. She did let one hand slide between her legs- just a treat, and a bit of a show for Daddy. She took him deep in her throat, deeper than anyone she’d ever blown. He deserved it. He was her one true love. 

She did manage to stop herself when she felt him getting close, heard his moans getting stronger.

She stood up and simply, gently, gave his Daddy her soaked hand for him to smell. It was a promise of the pleasures to come… if he did as she asked, as she needed him to. She could see it in his eyes. He had been unleashed. Andrea smiled, and with a moan sucked her fingers clean, keeping her green eyes fixed on her Daddy’s gaze.

Punishment would finally come to the one that had wronged her.

IV - Melody of Madness

Slowly, Kate started to regain her consciousness. It was a gradual thing, messy, disoriented. The first thing she noticed was a scent- the kind of smell that tells one they’re no longer home, but in a place inhabited for years by some unknown Other. Her body felt heavy, sluggish, weighed down. She wasn’t afraid, not at that point. She was too out of it to register such an emotion.

Only when her vision cleared a bit and her body started to feel more like her own did the true horror begin. She tried to remain calm. Okay, Kate. Just… try to figure things out. You’re in a bedroom. A girl’s room, judging by the decor. Shit, did you get wasted again? Wait, no… a room, yes, but not a dorm room. Bigger than the dorms. Oh, fuck. Did I party in town? Did I black out and some random girl decided to help me?

A part of her screamed. Assuming that this was just another regrettable morning after too much liquor was only a pleasant delusion, and she knew it. As painful as it might be, she would have to face another possibility. What was the last thing she remembered? She was getting up, ready for class… then she was picking up her morning coffee… a bitter taste, more than usual, and then… nothing. 

Kate needed to get out. Wherever she was, it was not where she wanted to be, that much she knew. She’d have time to figure things out later. First, get out of bed, and then…

She couldn’t. She was bound to the bed by improvised ropes made of sheets. Her legs were open, held in place. She noticed the way the air felt on her skin. She was in her underwear. This final fact froze her for half a minute- thirty seconds that felt like an eternity. 

Finally, she screamed.

“Shut the fuck up, or things will get very, very messy for you. And I don’t want to ruin my sheets, thank you very much.”

The voice was calm. Cold, yet expressing a hint of anticipation. And it was a voice Kate would never have expected to hear in that place, not in a million years.

“Andrea?”

“Oh, I’m ‘Andrea’ today? Are you sure you don’t mean to call me one of your usual nicknames? No ‘dyke’? No ‘carpet muncher’? No ‘cunt licker’? Isn’t it interesting, how something as simple as a little bit of metal and a few sheets are enough to teach you manners?”

Metal? Kate lifted her head as much as she could. There was Andrea, holding a knife. Shit. Shit. Shit. That little, insignificant bitch! And what was it with the outfit? Black lingerie, full face of make-up, devilishly sharp stiletto heels… Kate had never seen the stupid dyke looking anything like a real woman. Huh. So she had curves hidden under her usual baggy hoodies. Good for her. But she was still a fucking loser, and Kate knew how to handle losers.

“What the fuck are you doing, you crazy bitch? Let me go, now! What the hell are you thinking? People will hear…”

“Oh, don’t make a sound. I don’t want my father to…”

“Really? You brought me to your own home? You really are that stupid, huh? Let’s see what your dad thinks of his dyke daughter when she sees what you’ve done! Help! Sir, please! In your daughter’s room!”

Steps stomping outside. A man entered the room. Finally. Victory! Now the crazy dyke would get what was coming to her, and Kate would have a brand new story to bury the little cunt’s reputation even further. Maybe even hold the possibility of jail over her head.

“Andrea! What the hell is this? What are you doing?”, the man said, suitably shocked.

“Daddy! I’m so sorry! I… I just…”

“Didn’t I tell you to let me know as soon as she woke up?”

“You did. Sorry, Daddy. I’ve been a naughty little girl… will you punish me later?”

“Later, yes. Now we have work to do, don’t we, baby girl?”

“Yes we do, Daddy!” she chirped before giving in to a long, deep kiss with the man.

What. The. Fuck.

“Oh, I’m sorry!”, laughed Andrea. “Did you think he would help you? Kate, Kate… Ignorant as always. For one, I’m not a dyke, I’m bi- not that you care, but I figured a little education can’t hurt. And another thing about me: I have the bestest Daddy in the whole world! And my Daddy would do anything for me, because I’m his perfect, slutty good girl… and he’s very, very good at training good girls! Well, maybe ‘training’ isn’t the right word. How about… ‘breaking’? You know, like a horse! And we’ll make you such a good, good girl!”

Panic set in.

“Crazy! You’re both fucking crazy!”

Kate squirmed, a scream dying in her throat as Andrea crawled on the bed, swaying like a terrible feline, giving her dad a marvelous show. She lightly touched the inside of Kate’s thighs as she made her way up… before flashing the knife in front of the poor captive’s eyes.

“If I were you”, cooed Andrea, “I’d be very, very still for this part.”

Kated hated that her body seemed to instinctively do as the fucking dyke told. She froze, every muscle locked tight. She closed her eyes, and prayed to no deity in particular. Please. Please. Make it stop.

Kate shuddered as she felt something cold barely grazing her, almost between her legs. Terrible images flashed inside her mind. I might die here. A second later, she felt air caressing her private areas. She opened her eyes, only to see Andrea’s mad smile as she held the remains of Kate’s panties in her hand, skillfully cut off her body. 

“Not the sexiest of panties, I must say. I’m a bit disappointed! But…” Andrea brought the panties to her nose and took a deep, gratifying sniff. “There’s something alluring there. Oh! You’ve never had the pleasure of smelling a nice cunt, have you? No, you’re so very, very straight… you’d never do that, right? Well, you’ve been missing out. Time to fix that.”

Andrea carefully, almost lovingly, tied the panties around Kate’s face. Every breath now was an assault, a reminder of how powerless she was. A humiliation.

“Better get used to it, you stuck-up slut. You’ll be tasting the real thing soon enough. But…” Andrea leaped off the bound body of her foe. “What am I thinking? You’re straight! So, I take it you’d enjoy a big, hard cock more than my… dyke attentions, won’t you? Well, how about some Daddy cock? Won’t you love that? I know you will.”

Andrea skipped, child-like to her father. He was watching the scene before him, almost panting. A beast ready to be unleashed.

“Look!” chirped Andrea. “He’s so, so hard for you already! You should be flattered! Well, no point delaying the inevitable, I say. Ready to feel this big cock ramming into that tight pussy, you bitch?”

“No… no, please, don’t… I’ll… I’m sorry for… for everything! Please, please, please…”

“A little late for that, you evil cunt! Now get ready to be used like the fucking cumrag you are!”

Kate tensed up and shut her eyes hard enough to make them hurt. She braced herself for pain, for agony. She tried to somehow make her mind escape somewhere, anywhere else. Wasn’t that something that happened in these situations? Some sort of protective dissociation? And yet her mind was nailed in place, as stuck to the bed as her body. She waited, shaking… and nothing happened.

“How rude of me!”, mocked Andrea. “I almost made my daddy take that pussy dry! That would hurt a lot! I could help with that situation, you know… but you’re not a filthy pervert like me, that likes cock and pussy alike… so… I have to say, I’m a bit conflicted! Wouldn’t want to make you a dyke against your will! But you can choose. Dry or dyke? Huh? Too shy to speak now, you cunt? Answer me! Dyke. Or. Dry.”

Kate couldn’t believe her ears. An image of the knife flashed in her mind. Fear took hold. Feel of pain, primal, deep. The promise of less pain seemed like an imperative, and her mouth spoke before she could stop it.

“Dyke…” she mumbled.

“Sorry? I couldn’t quite hear that”, saud Andrea.

“Dyke! Dyke! Dyke, goddamn you!”

“She’s out! She’s loud! She’s proud! Welcome to the club, sister! Now relax and let me introduce you to a brand new world…”

It felt gross. It felt odd. Kate tried to reframe it. It’s just lubrication. It’s just making it easier for later. It means nothing. It’s just a tongue. It’s just…

Andrea was good. Extremely so. She took pride in her oral skills and was using all her talents, all her tricks on Kate. Not because she wanted the little bitch to feel good: simply because she knew that pleasure would make her suffer as much as the pain to come. Every involuntary thrust of Kate’s hips, every muffled moan that escaped her lips was a step towards conquest… and Andrea felt like a warlord, like a terrible goddess exacting just revenge…

“Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?” she giggled. “But we can’t have you cumming like that… not when dear Daddy has been so, so patient!”

Fear crept from beneath the disgust Kate felt with herself. A part of her had enjoyed it, and she hated herself for it. Her body was starting to betray her, and that, more than anything, was terrifying. But now the pain would come. She knew that for a fact.

“Daddy, my sweet, sweet Daddy… break the cunt”, said Andrea.

“Please… don’t…” managed to mutter Kate.

It was in vain.

It did hurt. The man was a beast, savage, thrusting into Kate without the slightest care for her pleasure or comfort, using her body like an object to take out all his messed up frustrations, his fantasies, whatever was mixed up in the storm inside his brain. Kate whimpered and yelped and tried not to scream. And in her ear, a warm breath, whispering to her constantly.

“Good girl… won’t you cry for me? Like you made me cry so many times? You fucking slut… don’t fight it… you know what you are, deep down… don’t you miss my sweet tongue on your cunt? Relax… let it happen… you deserve this… and I’ve earned it… your pain… and what you will be for me later… when the pain is gone…”

Part of her mind was aware enough to realize Andrea was rubbing herself right beside her. But most of her mind was focused on the sensation between her legs, the burning, the feeling she was being torn apart… and something worse, slowly creeping its way into the strange mixture assaulting her consciousness. Andrea saw it immediately.

“It’s better now, isn’t it? You can feel it… it’s okay. You don’t have to lie. Not to me. We are sisters now, after all. I, made by the cock that is remaking you! It’s so… poetic, isn’t it? You are a slut. You’ve always been a slut, deep down… all you needed was someone to prove to you that a slut is all you need to be. All you deserve to be. No more queen bee at college for you! And I know you will be such a good little girl for Daddy…”

“Fuck… fuck you…”

“Oh, you’ll get to do that too! Want a taste?”

Andrea started slowly, kissing Kate’s neck, nibbling it, giving her victim goosebumps. Then she delicately removed her bra, and lips met sensitive skin. Kate’s nipples, hard against her will, were assaulted by kisses, suction, skillful licks. Andrea toyed with Kate, varying the pressure, the speed of her tongue, inserting playful little bites into the game. Measuring. Learning. Deciphering every preference, every weak point. To Kate’s horror, the pain was starting to feel duller, as if coming from far away. The pleasure, on the other hand, was sharper, demanding, a hungry thing coming from her own traitorous body. It was hard to think. Hard to keep any single idea in frame inside her mind. Too many stimuli, coming from too many places, attacking different parts of her idea of self. She felt as if she was drowning in sensation.

Andrea made her way down, slowly, as her father’s thrusts became a bit slower. Stamina wasn’t infinite, but she was quite confident that together they could get the job done. Together, they could do anything. It took a bit of careful positioning, but soon the tip of her tongue was able to tease the little cunt’s clit and even give her dear Daddy a little extra lick when he pulled his beautiful cock out, only to ram it into Kate again. Oh, if only this moment could last forever. Father and daughter locked eyes for a moment, in something that felt like a twisted perversion of love. It was time to move on to the next step.

Kate couldn’t stop squirming. Couldn’t stop moaning. Couldn’t stop her fucking body from reacting to the big cock inside her, the tongue playing her pussy like a violin, her own shame turned into a corruption of pleasure, disgust with herself that swirled and shifted and somehow enhanced the feelings that were eroding her sanity. And then, it snuck up on her.

Kate came, harder than ever in her life. Any pretense was undone at that moment. Her body was too honest. But the fucked up father and daughter team didn’t stop. No, they paused for only a second or two before resuming their work. It was too much. Kate shook as she came again. And again. And again.

She was exhausted. Too exhausted to fight anymore. Too confused to protest anything Andrea said. Her words just permeated, unfiltered, into Kate’s mind.

“...tell you? You can be such a good little whore… and we can be Daddy’s sluts together! Don’t you think he deserves it? His cock made you cum so much… your pain gave it so much pleasure… it owns you now. And you’ll love it, I know you will. We’ll make you love it so, so much, until you forget what a fucking bitch you were before…”

Kate didn’t even notice when the restraints were removed. There were stronger ones in place now, and she could feel them. Inside her head. She had been defeated. She had been conquered. She had surrendered.

“On all fours”, Daddy said. He didn’t have to say it twice. Kate complied. 

“Word on campus is that your little ass is the one hole you’ve been saving up for someone special! Well, I say you’ve met someone very special! So now Daddy will take the last bit of you and you’ll finally be entirely his! Isn’t that exciting? But… what about your poor fellow slut? I mean, I gave you pleasure too! I say I deserve a treat. So… you get pain for Daddy and he gets to watch you eat a pussy for the first time! What a show it will be! And we’ll make it a show, won’t we, sis?”

Yes. Whatever Andrea said. It was easier to comply. Easier to obey. Easier to just accept. It would hurt. Good. If her pain was what they wanted, they would have it. She would have sex with another girl. Good. If they wanted her to dyke out, she would. 

Kate’s screams sent vibrations through Andrea’s pussy, only making Kate’s inexperienced attempts at eating her out so much more delicious. Andrea felt like a queen, being serviced as she deserved. Mike was a beast, finally letting out something that had been suppressed in shame for far too long. Kate let her body take over, turning even pain into something else, something like purpose, or atonement. In a single day, all three had changed. Forever.

The tight, virgin ass, paired with the spectacle of this girl pleasuring his sweet little girl sent Mike over the edge. He barely managed to pull out before cumming with an intensity that shocked even himself. Kate’s back was soaked, and some drops had even landed on his own daughter’s breasts. 

Andrea licked her lips.

“Kate… sis… why don’t we clean each other up for Daddy?”

V - Epilogue

Mike woke up to the sensation of tongues on his cock, as was the norm. He let himself relax and sink into pleasure. To think that half a year ago, the idea of even looking at his daughter had felt revolting! How silly he had been. They loved each other. They made each other their best versions of themselves. Their most perverted versions. 

And Kate… how lovely it had all been. Sure, it had taken a little while for her to fully enter the family, but now she and her adoptive sister were inseparable. They went shopping for slutty outfits, they did their camshows together to make Daddy money… they had even made out in front of the Dean when they announced they were dropping out of college to be full-time whores. It was tender, in a way. Kate’s addiction to pain and humiliation had come as a bit of a surprise, but a welcome one- especially by Andrea, who had started to explore her sadistic side more and more.

Of course, they both adored Daddy. They were always ready, always willing to please him. After far too many years of gray, dull effort and solitude, Mike felt happy. He let himself enjoy that fact.

After he came, the girls licked each other clean, moaning as they savored their Daddy’s cum. With bright smiles, they leaped on the bed with Mike.

“Good morning, Daddy!” they said in unison.

Did you enjoy this story? You can get access to the full library and support my work at patreon.com/prettynosferatu

Every bit helps!

[fastcardotmp3]

Steve is the first person Robin ever comes out to.

And it's good, it goes better than she ever could have hoped, it goes miraculously well considering just how reckless she had been about it in hindsight, how nearly accidental and vaguely self-destructive a choice it had been to wield Tammy Thompson's name like that in front of a boy she'd learned to trust within the past six hours.

The thing is, it's good, but she realizes later on that she never actually says the word. The big one, the identifying one, the one that gets thrown around as a slur as often as queer or dyke do towards any girl who dares not present in a specifically feminine way.

It's a bad word, a scary word, a word that drips off tongues like acid and drips drips drips a corrosive hole in Robin's chest every single time because if it's being said in her vicinity that means-- just at any moment-- anyone could figure out--

Robin doesn't care for the act of coming out either in theory or in practice. She believes that anyone she trusts enough to know gets to learn from context clues and anyone she doesn't trust will just never get to know her fully and that's good enough for her.

She doesn't sit her parents down and say, "Mom. Dad. I'm a--"

She doesn't sit her little apocalypse posse down and say, "Just thought you guys should know I'm a--"

She didn't tell Steve.

She doesn't say the word.

Because as much as she's able to accept who she is, it's so hard to claim a word that has been used like a weapon her whole life. Because as much as even her parents and her friends love her for who she is, there is something about saying it like that that makes her wonder if it could sully the support.

As if they'd realize oh, you meant like that...? and change their minds.

It's not until IUPUI, a little house in Indy with Steve, and a little record shop next door to the deli where Eddie got a job slicing meat that she starts seeing that word, feeling it anew.

There are zines at this shop, the ones behind the counter that she's offered after a few visits and a few conversations that she later recognizes as coded and questioning in nature.

There are stories and art and poetry and that word is all over them.

And the thing is? The thing that has Steve finding her crying in their living room one afternoon as she reads through the stack like it holds the answers to the universe?

Is that it is written and spoken and displayed like the most beautiful word in the world.

It's a compliment and a blessing and a brag. It's a little bit of magic and a great deal of history.

It's her, in the end. It's her and it belongs in her mouth, deserves to be spoken, because too many people are out there misusing it like a disgusting thing when it is divine, fucking love incarnate.

Robin tucks into Steve's embrace, his instinct to hold her even as he tries to understand what has her sobbing in the middle of the day, whether or not he needs to fight anyone about it.

He holds her and she holds him back and it only feels right that it happen like this when she takes his face in her hands, shaky but oh, so certain.

Steve was the first person she ever came out to.

If she's going to let the scary word become her favorite the way it is for the people writing it out so proudly, this is probably the place to start.

"Steve Harrington," she beams at the furrow in his brow, those big concerned eyes that she knows will be confused about this, but she knows will only hold her tighter once she explains. "Steve. Stevie. Guess what?"

"What's up?" he laughs, gathering the joy in her tears like she knew he would, and Robin feels something click in the moment before she says it to him.

Out loud and real.

Very nearly holy.

"I'm a fucking lesbian."

[cartoonistcoop]

ShortBox Comics Member Interview: Sloane Hong

Throughout the month of October, the Cartoonist Cooperative will be sharing interviews with members of the Co-op who have a new comic available at the ShortBox Comics Fair 2024! 

NOTE: The Cartoonist Cooperative is not affiliated, associated, authorized, endorsed by, or in any way formally connected with ShortBox.  

Today’s spotlight is Sloane Hong ( @plaest2k ) and their new comic for ShortBox, Expiry Date.

We’d love it if you could introduce yourself and tell us about your background in comics.

Sloane Hong: Kia ora, my name is Sloane Hong (she/her), I’m a Korean-tauiwi illustrator, comic artist and tattooer based in Aotearoa, New Zealand. I only started making comics professionally about five years ago but they’ve always been a significant part of my life for as long as I can remember.

Tell us more about your new comic?

SH: Expiry Date is an erotic, body horror, sci-fi short story about coming home from a long day at your shitty, minimum-wage job, crashing on your couch and fantasizing about how fucking good it would feel to just die.

I mean, it’s also about transness, labour rights, our relationship with our bodies and death under capitalism, etc but it’s mostly about shitty jobs.

My friend described it as “what if David Cronenberg was a transsexual dyke who grew up reading ero-guro”.

What are some early experiences as a cartoonist that shaped you or your process?

SH: My brother’s also an artist, probably better than I could ever be, and I basically owe any good taste I might have to him. Growing up, I always got home from school first so I’d sneak into his room to admire his drawings and read his comics. He had most of the usual stuff you’d find on any Korean kid’s shelf in the 90’s: Akira Toriyama, Masamune Shirow, Yoshito Usui, etc, and a couple of Korean manhwa that are all now damn-near impossible to find. As he got older, he started getting into American comics and brought home stuff like R. Crumb, Daniel Clowes, Fletcher Hanks, etc from the library.

But it’s not just that I had someone to introduce me to all this stuff, it’s the fact I’m six years younger than him and he was already reading this stuff earlier than most. So I think I started looking at all those misanthropic underground comics by horny white men when I was, like, what… about 10 years old?

Besides my brother, the trauma of working shitty jobs for years on end, The Terrible Boredom of Paradise, and this weird and fucked up miracle we call life are probably the wellsprings of both my inspiration and ceaseless burnout. 

Tell us about your creative process; how did you develop this comic and what are the steps you took to bring it to the final stage?

SH: I did something really stupid for the 2023 ShortBox Comics Fair. I have ADHD and one of the many ways it manifests is that I have a debilitating habit of overthinking my stories. “Are the themes too obvious? Is it too heavy handed? Are the motivations for this character clear enough? Is this the right way to phrase this? Is this the right word? Is this the right letter? Is this the right punctuation?” etc, etc.

On paper, it probably sounds like something every writer goes through but when I say debilitating, I mean interferes-with-my-ability-to-live-a-normal-life-kind of debilitating. It’s kind of impossible to articulate how bad it was but it got to a point where I was so sick of myself and all the stories I never finished that I said fuck it–maybe if I just jump into a comic with nothing but a stupid premise, no planning and an impending deadline, I won’t have time to think about all these inconsequential details. So I sat down and forced myself to write, pencil and ink a comic, page-by-page.

It was essentially an exercise in automatism: I was still thinking about draftsmanship, composition, flow and everything but I kinda just let the story tell itself by writing/ drawing whatever felt like a natural progression for the narrative.

That was how I ended up with Marrow, which was kinda funny because the whole point was to make a goofy, low-stakes comic about nothing to circumvent the pressure of having to write anything good. Instead I’d inadvertently made something that was layered and deeply intimate and won the sci-fi category in the 2024 Minicomic Awards. But, more importantly, the whole process helped bring everything together. It reminded me of something I used to tell young artists: developing a style isn’t something you really set out to do, it’s something that just happens. You don’t practice drawing to get better at drawing; you do it to better channel your voice. It’s only when you can stop thinking about how to move your hand that your heart can take the lead.

I’d forgotten my own advice. I was so concerned about the technical details of how to write a story that I was basically assembling components rather than writing anything at all. Marrow helped me realize I’d already internalized everything I needed to write long ago. I just needed to stop thinking.

Expiry Date was a continuation of that process and made in basically the same way. There was just significantly less stress involved now that I knew I could trust myself.

Mostly.

Read the rest of the interview HERE! And dont forget to check out the Shortbox Comics Fair to support these lovely creators!!

[fandomnerd9602]

Fake, Right?

Wanda Maximoff x Nerd!Reader (High School AU)

For @aloneodi

“I do not!” Wanda Maximoff finds herself stating to the rest of the group she called her clique.

“It is so obvious, Maximoff” Yelena states before chowing down on her mac and cheese.

“There’s nothing wrong with it, Wanda” Natasha chimes in, “(Y/N) is cute. Your best friend for so long. It’s almost like a romance story”

Wanda rolls her eyes, “What about you and Bruce?” Natasha blushes at that remark.

“Fine!” Wanda huffs, “if it pleases you all, I’ll go out with (Y/N) and I’ll prove there’s nothing there!”

“The only one you need to prove it to is yourself” Natasha snickers.

Wanda leaves her gal pals and heads over to you.

“I need you to date me” Wanda takes you by the shoulders.

“hello you too” you smile.

“Natasha and Yelena think that I’m in love with you and I need to prove that I’m not.”

“So a fake date?” You look confused.

“Yeah. Fake. Can you help?”

“Uh sure?” You find yourself at a loss for words.

“Great. Pick you up at seven” she gives you a sisterly hug before rejoining her popular friends.

You’d do anything for Wanda. She was a good friend of yours for as long as you could remember. But a fake date just seemed a little off.

Wanda rejoins her friends. Natasha giggles as Yelena rolls her eyes.

“Enjoy your evening, lovebird” Natasha giggles.

“Shut up” Wanda rolls her eyes at the redhead.

You got ready for your fake date. A simple attire set up. You wrapped your lucky Hufflepuff scarf around your neck.

A familiar honk outside your door got your attention. You walk out just as Wanda strolls up to you in her favorite red hoodie and yoga pants.

“You look better than I do” Wanda giggles

“Come on” you smirk, “you could make a 50s sitcom outfit look amazing”

Wanda actually blushes. “So where to?”

“Wanna grab a burger and shake?”

“Sure thing, Hufflepuff”

“I’m surprised you’re not wearing your Slytherin scarf” you shoot back.

“Hufflepuffs and Slytherin only cause mayhem together” Wanda socks your arm playfully.

“Then let’s cause some tonight” you laugh.

You and Wanda make your way to the local diner. Wanda just about devours her whole chocolate shake.

“It’s been forever since I had one of these” Wanda practically moans as the shake runs down her throat.

“I missed these times” you admit. “I know you got the popular crowd now-“

“I could never sideline you” Wanda interrupts. “Nat and Yelena are fun but I can’t talk with them about the things we talk about”

“I don’t mind” you shrug. “I still see you every now and then. It’s not like you’re on Mars.”

“I missed our hangouts too.” Wanda shrugs “I feel like I changed so much”

“Oh really? Favorite vinyl?”

“Florence and the Machine. Lungs. Dog Days are Over”

“Okay. Favorite show?”

“Dick Van Dyke Show”

“Favorite movie?”

“Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone”

You smile, “sounds like the same old Wanda to me”

“Wanna hit the record shop?” Wanda bats her eyes at you.

“I was hoping you’d ask”

You and Wanda make your way to the records shop. You spend the next hour rocking out to old vinyls and just enjoying one another’s company. Wanda felt so free. No cliques. No standards. Just her and you, allowed to be yourselves.

Your last stop was the movies. You just bought the closest showing you could. The movie was terrible but laughing along with Wanda made it worth watching.

It was close to midnight when Wanda pulled up to your house. Wanda didn’t want the night to end. Something about being with you just felt right.

“I had fun tonight” you smile at your best friend. Wanda giggles in response.

“Glad I could get you out of your shell, Hufflepuff” she laughs.

“I wouldn’t mind doing it again, Slytherin. Maybe next time we could have a Harry Potter marathon”

“I’ll bring the popcorn and soda” Wanda giggles.

“Well I’ll see tomorrow Wanda.” You walk up the steps of your house. Part of you doesn’t want this night to end either. You turn and look back at the young witch.

You look at her, she looks at you. And for the second time in a long time, Wanda feels a certain longing in her heart. A longing for you to come back down those steps and kiss her.

Sadly you walk up and into your house. What Wanda didn’t know was the strong urge you felt to go back down and kiss her goodnight.

As she walks away from your house that night, all Wanda could think was of how good she and you fit together. She could spend a whole lifetime with you and never grow tired. Well Tony did have that party coming up next week. An idea was brewing in that young witch’s mind.

Tags: @aloneodi @lifespectator @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @supercorpdanbeau @scarletwitch-n7 @deafeningsharkslimeempath @kingofthelizardpeople @jacelion @family-house-of-m

[velvetvexations]

Not gonna lie the whole "trans women are women because they experience misogyny or [xyz tangible reason like dysphoria or whatever]" thing confuses me so much because every single time I have seen a trans person or group take on the big "why are trans people the gender they say they are" question it quickly becomes clear the only real answer that exists and will ever exist is "because they say they are".

We've tried hinging it on dysphoria or brain gender or hormones or presentation or societal oppression(or lack thereof) and every single time we end up excluding people who are trans, and the only answer that includes the full, beautiful, diverse trans experience is "because we say we are".

I just don't understand the drive to make sense of it, it doesn't have to make sense, it doesn't have to hinge on anything, let alone societal oppression, and we don't have to have a perfect answer for the bigots because our word should be all that matters! Why am I transmasc? Because I say I am. Because it makes me happy. Is it a choice? I don't really know anymore, but if it is a choice I would choose it over and over again, every single time, and that doesn't make me any less trans. We make ourselves out of a mess of chemicals and electricity and salt and water every day. We make sense out of light and air and rocks and everything and nothing, that's all reality is! So what if it's a choice, or if it isn't? So what if gender doesn't really matter! Nothing matters!! And that means you have the freedom to decide what has meaning. What matters.

You're a woman because you say you are, because you choose to be, just like I'm a butch genderwhatever because I say I am, I choose to be, and that really should be all the justification we need. And for fucks sake we do NOT need to suffer to prove we're real. I do not oppressed therefore I am and I'm genuinely concerned that anyone would try to base their rationalization for their existence on SUFFERING!! You're not here to suffer, you're here to go spinny in a skirt and eat delicious food and piss off your family by shaving your head and play dumb computer games with your friends. Isn't that enough?

And like, there will never be a perfect argument that convinces people who are determined to misunderstand you that you are what you say you are, no scars spelling out the word misogyny or patriarchy you can show them to get them to go "oh yes sorry I was mistaken you are indeed woman pls go on your merry way", and even if there was they'd just move the goalposts. So ffs stop fucking waiting for the approval of people who hate you. You're a woman because you say you are, if that's not good enough for some people frankly they can go fuck themselves.

Anyway sorry for getting philosophical in your inbox I just have a lot of feelings about this. I had a really bad existential crisis in high school and came out fully believing that if nothing matters then everything matters and it seems so silly to me to keep trying to like, rationalize the existence of trans people with cold hard facts because like. We exist. We are what we say we are because we say we are. I don't have to have a man soul or whatever, I just know putting on guy's jeans and calling myself a dyke makes me happy, and I try to make a habit of not being shaken to my core every time some asshole tells me that's not good enough.

Very powerfully worded anon, thank you.