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eldritch-queern-magicat · 5 months

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(Gods, this post got long, and a lot more in-depth than I expected. Proceed with caution if you decide to read about the mess of religious brainwashing I went through. It's really horrible and I do mention violence. If it's not something you think you can read without triggering yourself, please move on to some other post. Maybe spend some time on my cat sideblog, listed on my pinned post. Hell, even if you do read this whole thing, you might still want to visit it, or one of the others also listed.)

We all have programming and baggage to deal with. And sometimes we go all too willingly for the self-flagellation (physical or mental), like we were taught. I decided, after the fusions almost all fell apart, to enter what was essentially solitary confinement. The only part attending to my isolation from the others was Era.

We were kinda like two peas in a pod, even though we were also always in separate subsystems. Era was corrupted extremely fast because he had the misfortune of getting paired to the version of the antichrist in our mind. I was paired to Pandemonum as it's demon. And it was the closest to Galaco, which I frequently took advantage of. But it took time for others to realize what I was doing. Then after foster care, it got easier to whisper provocation to it simply because Nanny didn't have a whole congregation to help control us. I tugged on Pandemonum's strings like a marionette. His anger was easy to manipulate.

Other than that, I personally did a lot of terrible things to other parts early on. I was awful to just about everyone, and one of the absolute worst. Hell, even Era wasn't immune to my abuse. Granted, he learned to be cruel right back, and then somehow we learned to enjoy the mutual torment.

But then the part that eventually named herself Caelienn found a way to balance Era somewhat and get him to behave mostly again. And he found me, before Ash sealed Pandemonum, but also after I'd already done enough to corrupt it. I was put in isolation, but Era kept coming back to keep me company and work me into being a decent part to live with. Every time, he was clear he was trying to use the kinds of methods Caelienn did.

Only some early parts picked up actual names of demons. And more often than not, they were named from male demons. Other non-biblical names only actually came later. But there were too many demons, according to them, to name them all. I got stuck being called Mammon, of all fucking things. Of course I wanted a new name. Era kept trying to offer me different names as options, but I never really liked most of them at all.

There was a certain point in middle school where everything from our original conflicts was forcibly cut off from the majority of the system. And then we just forgot it all. I finally picked a name, but I still didn't mean to get attached to it. It was intended to be at most a placeholder for something ‘better’.

Over time, I did get to know and bond with some other parts. I remembered Caelienn from the little I remembered of his (she's bigender and I want to use both his preferred pronouns) impact on Era. She just totally accepted me, then Jaden (now fused into Maple) and Garnet decided to treat me as their son. Basically adopting me.

I couldn't remember the bulk of childhood except as a vague feeling of shame, though. I still felt undeserving of actual kindness. The instinct to take and do what I wanted, and screw how it affected anyone else, was still buzzing in the background. Some things got better when we started deconstructing the most obvious aspects of our indoctrination, but it couldn't fix it all. Especially not since we tripped into some of the New Age bullshit for a few years. That was a weird time, but at least we learned not to believe everything we'd been taught about various kinds of spirits.

So we never really got to the core of why we were all so fucked up to begin with. It was all locked away from any alters who might ever front. Only the holy side, and maybe a couple of the highest authorities on this side plus Ash, could access any of that information. Us demons were simply on another layer of this side. Of course we were. We were just as affected by the lockout, a borderline reset on everything internally.

I literally don't know what to do yet. When that--whatever the hell happened with Joshua--all those old, buried feelings and urges just flooded right back into my awareness. It was hard to stay aware of the progress everyone had actually made. It was hard to retain my bit of progress.

And when Era pulled me out of my isolation, I did lose control of myself. I was...loose, and I felt a need for violence. For whatever reason, he just let me act out against him and do as I damn well pleased. Then I think I lost all my ability to think for a while when Galaco took me, because what??? As far as I could remember, Galaco was always the scared little tattletale. I didn't know it also felt those same cravings.

At least I guess we're doing well processing the way we were treated as evil. Era seems to confess that he always felt like they treated us like we actually killed someone, or were about to. We physically hurt others, yes. This is true. It's very possible we hurt someone else about our age pretty badly. We probably would have been diagnosed with some kind of conduct disorder, if they believed in psychology (they didn't, big fucking shock).

But who the fuck in reality taught us to in the first place? Yeah, it was entirely them. The fucking assholes who were taking part in what I see as a state-sanctioned kidnapping. They showed us real life violence. We can remember often reenacting parts of the bible in the little girl's bible study group. We imagine that we picked up more violence there than just a little bit. But for us, it was compounded by their inherent sexism. Girls were not supposed to be violent, which only made us even more reactive and angry.

I'm too exhausted to care about our old conflicts. I've got shit to own up to and atone for, but that's another matter altogether. At least no one else really wants to fight anymore, either.

-Kite 🪆😺

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fishedeyelenz · 9 months

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So give me coffee and tv

If this work is familiar to you, it is because it is the revised version of an earlier fan fiction of mine that went by the same name! After finishing up with chapter three I realized I didn't really envision this work as a Billy Lenz x Reader anymore, and instead the protagonist of the tale developed into a full blown oc. The truly new content of this work starts from chapter four, the edits I had done on the previous chapters were exclusively just about changing the pronouns and giving the protagonist a name, so any long-time reader can jump right into chapter four if they so wish. And new readers, I welcome you dearly!

Summary:

After a though divorce Camille Morrison decided to move to a small town to reclaim her sense of identity and to grow from her past experiences. All was going well, as she seemed to adapt to her new environment with ease. That is until she met her neighbor. And received a strange phone call. TW for: harassment, stalking, Billy being Billy, and minor fatphobia Chapters under the cut!

Chapter 1

She was about 15 minutes into her walk, on the worn dirt path which passed beside her home, when she heard the patter of footsteps coming her way. He was about her age, tall and a bit plump. He seemed like he was lost in thought, looking downwards towards his feet as his long, thick hair bobbed with every step he took. It seemed like he forgot to brush it today, white strands of hair were tangled up in messy brown locks. His mouth moved as if he were mumbling to himself, though she couldn't hear him over the ambiance of the forest. Camille stepped on a tree branch loudly, which shocked him out of his musings, and he looked up at her wide eyed behind his round eyeglasses. Very wide and open as he held eye contact with her, immediately shutting up about whatever he was talking to himself. His mouth twitched under his stubble.

Chapter 2

He puffed, shutting his eyes, trying once again to fall asleep, after letting his frustrations out for a bit. He thought about her, his new neighbor. Didn't he buy this house, which was more like a shack to him, so that he would be far away from people? After rehabilitation, it was made clear to him he would have to find a job and socialize if he wanted to stay out of the wards, but after all that draining socialization at least he could at least look forward to hiding back into his own corner of the world. Away from people... But then she had to go and buy that old shack, the other old shack in this part of the woods. He didn't like that. He didn't like that at all. So what was he to do, other than to bother her until she left.

Chapter 3

She looked down at your mug. It was her favorite mug, with a simple paisley design all over it. The friend who gave it to Camille told her, when she heard of the divorce, that she can’t believe she’d do this, can’t believe she would hurt her ex like that, after all the two of them been through, and how she was rooting for Camille and her ex and how she’d gone and threw her life away. Camille hasn't heard back from her since, she didn’t even come to say goodbye to her before Camille moved away. Camille took a sip of her tea. It was tasteless. She poured the tea out into the sink. Then she threw the mug away into the trash. Tomorrow she will go out to buy a new one.

Chapter 4

His laundry really was long overdue, so much so that his small hamper was overstuffed with his used clothes. It had been in his mind for about a couple of days that he really ought to wash his clothes, and told himself every morning that he should do it. But he seemed to forget over the course of the day, and only when he snuggled up comfortably in bed with one or more cats laying on his chest did he remember. And then he really could do nothing than to promise himself he would do it tomorrow, sinking into the pillows as sleep overtook him. Rinse and repeat. He woke up this morning realizing that his clothes from yesterday smelled like three day old sweat and cat piss (he supposed Puck was the one to blame), and he really had nothing to wear anymore. Well almost nothing. But he wasn’t in the mood to try and cram himself into that just yet.

#billy lenz #dilf billy lenz #oc: camille #my writing

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kurokens · 3 years

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You are a monster from Hell | Gojo Satoru

anime/manga: jujutsu kaisen

character: gojo satoru

words: 1.1k

pronouns: none

request: "hey~~~ can i req an angst with gojo where the reader and him like each other but he pushes the reader away by being mean, you can come up with whatever reason you think will be best for gojo being mean UwU"

notes: hey! i'm so sorry this took me so long to write, i made it really angsty and it may have not been what you were expecting, im sorry... I hope you will still like it! again, still not an native english speaker so sorry for any mistakes.

not proof read

song rec: wrote this listening to this magnificient cover

genre: angst

warnings: a lot of angst, death, gojo is a fucking asshole, my writing

The first time Gojo met you, he thought you were the nicest person he had ever met, always so polite, unless the person didn’t deserve your kindness, and your smile always seemed to be illuminating the entire place. So, it was no surprise that he found himself gravitating towards you whenever you were in the room, searching for the warmth you would provide him just by being the amazing person you were. It wasn’t long before he realised that his feelings for you were growing stronger, and he wasn’t dumb, he could see that it was the same for you. The way you looked at him when you thought he wasn’t looking, or how you would always get out of your way to find new sweets for him to taste. Gojo knew that all he had to do was to confess to you and you two could be together, but he couldn't. Something was scaring him, maybe the concept of love, or just the thought of not being able to protect you and losing you to a curse. And this was enough to completely change the way he acted towards you, he went to being the nicest when you were around, to a complete jerk every time you were in a hearing distance from him.

“Heard you failed to exorcise yet another curse, quite a shame for a special grade 1 sorcerer don’t you think?” The white-haired man said in a taunting manner.

“Not now Satoru, I’m not in the mood.” You replied, truly not in the right state of mind to deal with another day of the annoying teacher bullying you.

“Oh, what’s that? Is someone moody because they couldn’t get rid of a weak ass curse, and had to get saved yet once again by the one and only Gojo Satoru?” He mocked you once more, looking down on you while floating above where the curse once was.

“Satoru, I said not now.” You started losing your temper all while trying to keep applying pressure on your wound, all you wanted was to go back to the school, get treated and sleep. But Gojo apparently had other plans.

“Why? Are you too scared to face the truth? About how you’re not, and never were fit to be a jujutsu sorcerer, and yet you keep being stubborn, and risk your life while you know you should just quit.” He continued, not once asking if you were okay.

“Stop it, please.” You barely managed to let out between broken sobs, but it didn’t stop him and he just kept going on and about how you were an incompetent sorcerer, and you just tuned him out, too tired and used to his harsh words to care anymore.

In all honesty, you weren’t sure why you were crying. Was it because Gojo’s words were hurting you, or was it because deep down you knew he was right? You knew you never really were cut to be a jujutsu sorcerer, and you never wanted to. Yet, here you were, bleeding out from the injury the curse inflicted you, having to listen to the person you once liked tell you how you sucked at your job and how you were sure to lose your life one day, and he was right.

‘What a pitiful way to die.’ You told yourself, sitting yourself down against a wall, Gojo’s voice gradually fading to a mere buzzing sound in your ear. And while you were slowly losing grip of your consciousness you wondered to yourself how the two of you ended like this, you used to be so close.

“And how is my favourite human doing today?” You asked after feeling a presence behind you.

“I’m honoured by this title. I would say I’m doing amazing now that I’m with you. How is the second best sorcerer doing?” Gojo replied, throwing an arm around your shoulder to walk with you.

“Well, you already answered that one.” You teased, laughing when you heard him gasp right in your ear.

“I would have you know, that I am the best sorcerer there is. Apologise right now or face my wrath.” The extravagant teacher urged you with a pout forming on his face.

“Okay here, would that be enough for you, your majesty?” You laughed while offering some sweets you brought back from your last mission.

“Hm, let me taste them and then I will decide your fate.” The sorcerer answered, taking one of the treats from your hand.

“You’re a man child.” Shaking your head at his antics.

"But that's how you like me." The tall man teased, sticking out his tongue like a 4 years-old would do.

“Cat got your tongue now? Can’t give even your snarky comments anymore?” The white-haired man haughtily said, shaking his head at your lack of reply. "And I am the man child, you're pathetic."

“Your senior is talking to you, the least you could do is answer you know, that’s called common decency.” He insisted, only to be once again met with a morbid silence.

“Stop ignoring me now, you’re being childish. You should be used to all of this by now, you’re not telling me that this was the last straw? Are you that weak?” The jujutsu sorcerer mocked.

“Hey, I’m being for real now. Answer me.” He tried once more, slightly growing worried at your lack of response.

Gojo slowly landed a few feet away from you, calling your name restlessly only to be met with silence each time. Before he could even think it through, he was crouching next to you, shaking your body in hope to hear you say anything to him. The strongest sorcerer of them all crumbling down at the sight of your bloody body.

“Please, say anything, please talk to me, just say you’re not dead, please.” His words came out rushed, his panic evident for anyone to see, but he couldn't care less, not when your life was on the line. “I’m begging you please, anything. Please not you too, please don't leave me as well.” His movements were frantics.

Part of him knew his actions were useless, he could definitely feel the weight of your lifeless body in his arms, and how cold your skin was growing, but another part of him refused to believe it. And the reason was simple, he could have saved you, he arrived in time, he could have taken you to Shoko, he could have definitely prevented this, but he didn’t. You died, and it was all his fault. The sole reason he started acting this way towards you, his biggest fear, actually came true, and he was the cause of it.

Gojo Satoru was always told he was the strongest sorcerer, that he would save a lot of lives with his six eyes, but right now he couldn't see it. Not when he couldn't protect you out of all people. Gojo wasn't the greatest sorcerer, he was a monster from hell.

#saturn's writing #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojou x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru angst #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen angst

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boop-le-snoot · 3 years

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main masterlist ☀️ taglist & faq

hot wheels | natasha romanoff x reader

explicit, 5,2k words, f/f. meet-ugly but still very much wholesome. we love a girlboss. natasha catches some random woman keying her brand new car but decides to be the better person for once and hear the woman out. turns out, being the better person can even get one laid! warnings: singular use of the d-slur, references to an abusive ex, lesbian sex.

[no y/n, no "you", nickname only, no reader description - race/age/body type neutral, she/her pronouns]

Natasha gave the tall, lanky boy an unimpressed look as she side-stepped the arguing couple to avoid colliding with the annoyed, teary-eyed woman the boy was groveling to. It was nearing rush hour and there was shopping to be done before the heavy NYC traffic could steer her already busy schedule down into an unmanageable chaos.

"But, Foxy, you know I didn't mean it! I love you, more than anything!"

The items on the spy's list were checked off methodically, item after item landing in the cart with a quiet thud as the redhead maneuvered through the isles with tactical precision. The usual afternoon crowd began to fill the store, taking up the so-needed breathing space; Natasha's shopping trip wasn't a moment of leisure and with her neverending to-do list full, she hurried to the self-check-out register, flying through the motions mindlessly.

Scan, place, beep, boop, pay, load up the bags, make way to the car, load up and pedal to the metal.

Scratch that. No, scratch - Natasha's eyes bulged as she neared her shiny, brand new Charger, seeing the obvious defects even from a mile away: the paint, previously cherry red and gleaming in the sun, ruined by a series of thin, gray lines, standing out unpleasantly on the otherwise pristine vehicle.

And the culprit, who's tuft of hair peeked over the hood of the car on the other side of the Charger, almost fully hidden between her car and the large Chevrolet in the next parking spot over.

Natasha's fingers clenched around the handle of the cart as she fought the urge to reach for her knife safely holstered under her leather jacket. "Excuse me?" Tone quiet and deadly, the spy prepared herself to fight or at least slightly shake up the hooligan.

The figure froze, vaguely familiar clothing and a puffy, tear-stained face slowly rising from behind Natasha's car. "In my defense, he deserves it," the girl - Foxy - the one that was arguing in front of the store earlier, declared through a stream of angry tears. "Call the cops if you want, I don't care." It was unclear if the girl recognised her, the Black Widow, as she made no move to run for the hills, just pathetically sniffled, pocketing the keys she used to scratch Natasha's car.

"That's my car," The spy responded flatly, a great deal of amusement crawling into her face as Foxy's eyes bulged, jaw fell slack, horror plain and evident overshadowing the waterworks. Natasha quickly pieced two and two together but patiently waited for the initial shock to subside before popping a question. "A word of advice, if I may?"

Foxy nodded, dumbfounded, frantically scrambling for the contents of her pockets, searching for something with the agility of a panicking cat, more than half of the contents spilling out onto the ground.

Natasha unlocked the car, popping the trunk and loading in her bags as she raised her voice to be heard over the noise of a busy parking lot. "Don't mess with the paint, the insurance will cover it. Slash three tires - not four - or take a swing at the front bumper and the headlights," the trunk slid shut with a quiet click as the spy inspected the damages close-up. Her Charger looked like it was attacked by a pack of aggressive, feral cats with nails of steel. "And always check the number plates before committing acts of vandalism to make sure you're enacting revenge on the right person." The last part was said with a smirk.

As the spy stepped closer to Foxy, she noted the excessive puffiness of her cheeks and the shaking fingers that held a checkbook and a pen. The woman looked torn between terrified and apologetic, worrying her lip between her teeth. "I'm so, so sorry. Todd just got his new car, it's identical to yours and I didn't get the chance to memorize the number plate yet," the offending man's name was said with a pitiful growl. "How much?" She weakly motioned to the ruined bodywork.

"What'd he do?" Natasha didn't resist her curiousity, leaning against the driver's side door and sizing up the other woman. She was pretty, well-dressed and reasonably wealthy on the first sight. "Yeah, he looked like a Todd," The quip slipped from the redhead's lips as she remembered the man from earlier. Foxy looked way too good to be wasting her time on someone who looked like an adolescent that hadn't outgrown his skater boy phase.

Foxy chuckled shyly at Natasha's remark, smoothing a hand over her face. "Lord, where do I even begin..." The sigh was loud and long. "He lived in my apartment rent-free, made me give up my cat by lying about his allergies, went through nine low-wage jobs in two years, did nothing but play video games in his free time and developed a pot addiction, thus spending all his money on it," she began steadily but her tone grew in pitch with every added offence as Natasha's eyebrows climbed higher and higher. "My last straw was when he took out a loan he couldn't pay off to buy his brand new cool car," the words were spat out with venom. "I threw him out last Saturday. He's been following me around all the time," Foxy continued, growing dark in the face. "And then I found out he had been cheating on me for I don't know how long. I just... I just lost it," she finished pathetically, all but crumbling into a pile of human misery.

Natasha's face had frozen into mute disbelief somewhere around the first half of the story, repulsion and astonishment mixing into a flurry of quiet rage on the random woman's behalf. Menfolk were bizarre animals, and as much as the spy felt herself annoyed by her roommates at the tower, she couldn't help but feel relieved that the men surrounding her were far from douchebags of the casual variety. This Todd, however, was no amateur, and had done Foxy really, really dirty.

The redhead made up her mind rather quickly. "That's a lot to unpack," she carefully studied the micro-expressions on the other woman's face. "I have a couple of nice bottles of wine at my place and nobody to share them with. Care for a glass?"

Foxy's eyes widened once more. "I don't- I don't want to take up your time, I mean, I'm sure you've got more important shit to do, like save the world and y'know..." The stammering was followed by a shy look to the side.

So, Foxy had recognised her. And she didn't go running the other way like most people that encountered her in disadvantageous situations did. "I actually don't, I was just getting my shopping done for a lack of better things to do," Natasha lied seamlessly, motioning to the other side of the car. "Hop in." Mission reports and Barton's pizza date could wait.

The woman made quick way around, buckling into the seat in seconds, right before Natasha peeled off from the parking lot towards the Avengers tower at breathtaking speeds. The car was a gift from Tony - one of the rare things he managed to get right - and an absolute pleasure to drive.

"What's your name?" The redhead asked, juggling the steering and her smartphone effortlessly.

The woman rattled of her first and last name on between attempts to fix her runny make-up and wipe the dried snot and tears off her face. "Foxy is a nickname my gramps gave me, said I used to excessively play with fox pelts in the attic when I was a kid," the woman added with a snort, totally oblivious to Natasha's eyebrow raise as the spy read the information on her in-between overtaking slower cars.

Good student, good family life, stable income and good career growth in a prospective sector. What did Foxy even find in a guy like Todd? The most important information, however, was also most pleasing. No ties to any kind of intelligence gathering organizations.

As Natasha parked and popped the trunk once more, the other woman offered a hand with her shopping bags. Friday acknowledged the newcomer, startling her, causing Natasha to roll her eyes and mention, loudly, that if Tony decided to pay them a surprise visit, he may end up castrated or shot on sight, much to Foxy's bashful snickering.

Once the shopping was put away and the wine opened, the spy let herself curl up on the couch opposite the woman who studied her Spartan style apartment with curios eyes. The lack of knick knacks must've been a surprise for her: Natasha's apartment looked bare compared to what she'd seen in other's people's homes but the desire to make the environment more cozy had never been strong enough to actually act upon it. She wasn't used to staying in a place for very long.

"Do you still want to get back at the bastard?" The redhead asked once the first bottle was coming to an end. The alcohol was sitting low, pleasantly warm in their bellies and the food that they'd ordered in the middle of a casual chit-chat lulled them into a state of comfortable stupor.

"I want to gouge his eyes out and wear them as a battle trophy," Foxy was slightly slurring her words, much more affected by the wine than the stoic, experienced agent. "But I guess I can settle for petty crime or arson."

"I'm sensing you didn't tell me the whole list of grievances," true to her words, the spy felt as it there was a possibility quite a few things were being left unsaid.

Foxy sighed once again, placing the empty glass on the table and using her palm to prop her flushed face against it, blankly staring off into the far end of the room. "I came out as bisexual last year and he was giving me so much shit for it. Todd kept pushing for a threesome and when I refused, started accusing me of cheating during our fights, called me a whore a couple of times," the more she spoke, the higher Natasha's anger levels rose.

Not only was a Todd a dick, he was an abusive one. Truly, the grand prize of Asshat Lottery. "I have an idea or three," the spy twirled the remaining red liquid in her glass before downing it. "But it'll have to stay between us two."

"I'm listening," Foxy turned to meet Natasha's face, eyes considerably more alert than seconds before.

A few days past their amicable wine-and-revenge get-together, Natasha's doorbell rang as if she wasn't already had been made aware by Friday that a visitor was coming up to see her. Boxes of hair bleach and dye laid stacked on the living room table, surrounded by jewelry and assorted accessories. A pitcher of fresh sangria topped the ensemble, two clean glasses placed neatly on the tray next to it.

"Hi, Nat," Foxy's smile was a mile wide - a far cry from the sniffling sad sack of a woman the spy had first met. The nickname flowed freely from the woman's lips, as calm as Natasha's own answering grin and greeting. "I gots the stuff," waving her purse about, the woman kicked off her shoes by the door, approaching Natasha with the same smile that seemed to be more effective at lightening up the room than Tony's expensive designer lamps.

As Natasha's plan achieved a solid state, the two women had quickly come to a realization that Natasha was far too recognizable with her signature red hair and over a flurry of text messages, the decision to switch to a warm caramel blonde was made unanimously. Foxy had rebuked any and all Natasha's attempts to affirm she'd be able to do it herself and the spy gave into the other's chiding, relenting to have her hair dyed by a person who at least had a possibility of seeing the back of her head without having to perform acrobatic tricks.

Foxy was an easygoing, non-problematic person. She was fun to have around, quiet but witty, with intelligent eyes and a realistic view on the world. It was something Natasha valued, alongside the lack of probing questions regarding her past or her job - her insides clenched uncomfortably at the thought of having to lie about those things, or even worse, having to admit to the wrongdoings in her past, however Foxy carefully steered away from topics that were sensitive and never gave Natasha as much as a side-eye if the spy appeared to lack some minor detail that normal women her age all seemed to be aware of.

The curiosity had her ready to burst. Nat's natural defense mechanisms were quite confused, not sure what to make of the woman who almost too friendly to be true, but the kindness in her eyes and the sometimes shy, awestruck looks she gave Natasha when she thought the redhead wasn't looking made up for it in spades.

"What do you think?" The noise of the hair dryer finally ceased, Foxy's voice echoing in Natasha's luxuriously large bathroom.

The newly-blonde spy studied her reflection with a tilt to her head. The ombre was a nice touch - her own hair was naturally darker than the caramel and honey blonde she had chosen, so the almost-brown shading at her roots took much away from the contrast between her lighter hair and darker brows. It was just another disguise for the spy, but somehow, this one felt more like home than any of the previous faces she had worn.

"I like it, you were right about the ombre," Natasha voiced her thoughts, eyes sliding over to the smiling woman behind her, feeling the corners of her mouth begin to creep upwards in involuntary response.

"You looked good with red hair, don't misunderstand me," Foxy briefly raised her hands. "But you have a light complexion and lighter colors do wonders for bringing out the youthfulness. Even if we don't have much joy these days, a good hair color is an opportunity to showcase the bit," she briefly touched her own hair in an exaggerated attempt at driving her point home.

The fun part was done, the time came to execute the revenge. It wasn't exactly anything special; rather, the plan was quite simple - let Todd make a fool out of himself in front of his friends and perhaps (a slightly, teensy possibility) get himself arrested. The two women took their time to get dolled up, not too much - but rather, adding just that little bit to themselves to easily attract moderate amounts of attention from men.

The bar was busy, noisy and full of people when the two women stepped through the door. Natasha's eyes scanned the room out of habit, easily spotting the tall, lanky Todd in the far end of the bar, laughing and boozing with equally pathetic-looking man-children. The urge to gag was almost irresistible.

The spy let herself to be led to the bar by Foxy who looked mildly uncomfortable. Natasha was sure that if she was to touch the other woman's face, it would be flaming under the circumstances. "Try to relax a little, I won't bite," with a quip to her companion, Nat ordered them a vodka cranberry each, sitting down with her back to the men. "Tell me when he notices us and starts moving this way."

Foxy nodded minutely, clutching her drink for dear life and taking generous sips to calm herself down and relax like the spy had requested. They talked about everything and nothing in between, Natasha's hand on Foxy's knee crawling closer to her hip as minutes passed by without interruption. Loud noises of men playing darts and drunkenly cheering reached the womens earshot every now and then, causing Foxy to throw increasingly infuriated glances towards her ex-boyfriend and the Black Widow's current victim of choice.

Sitting opposite the perfectly composed, smiling woman, it was clear as day she was, indeed, best of the best. Despite knowing Foxy for only a few days, Natasha managed to pull off a very convincing girlfriend: her body language was nothing short of absolutely besotted and the googly eyes the spy was making had Foxy constantly remind herself that it was only for show. There was no way this gorgeous, incredible human would be interested in someone as plain and ordinary as herself.

"Heads up," Foxy's smile suddenly grew a mile wide as she stared directly at Natasha, eyes alight with fury at the scene about to unfold. Natasha's reply was to briefly tighten the grasp on the other's leg in silent support.

"Hey, baby," Todd was drunk enough for the stench of his breath to reach both women. "Oh, I see you're with a friend," his attempt at flirting only made Natasha scrunch up her face like a cat that accidentally smelled a lemon.

"Leave me alone," Foxy stated firmly, knowing the phrase wouldn't do anything to deter her overzealous ex, but this time - she counted on it.

"It's okay, I can share," the slurred words had a couple of people nearby raise their eyebrows at the audacity.

"I'm not interested," Foxy snapped. "In fact, there is absolutely nothing your freeloading, cheating ass can bring to my table."

The woman radiated satisfaction as gasps sounded out around them; Todd was a regular at this bar and most people there knew him in one way or another. The moment of joy, however, was brief.

"Listen, bitch, you have no business talking to me like that," full of drunken bravado, the man spat angrily, taking unsteady steps closer to Foxy. "What you need is a decent man that can handle your outbursts, not some dyke..." before he could even utter another offensive syllable, Natasha had his wildly gesturing arm twisted painfully behind his back, easily forcing the inebriated man to his knees.

"Wanna try that again, champ?" Sarcasm flowed freely from the spy's lips as the patrons in the bar gasped. The civilian clothing and the new hair color might have been an effective short-term disguise but once the crowd had seen her neat little party trick and had taken a good look at her face, nobody was doubting her identity. "Call the cops, will you?" She addressed the shocked bartender who immediately scrambled to obey.

"I didn't do anything!" Todd cried out, eyes drunkenly darting between the Black Widow's quiet rage and Foxy's grim stone face.

"Huh, that's weird. Because I clearly heard and saw an attempted hate crime," Natasha's voice attained a sardonic tint. "And I have a bar full of witnesses," the spy shrugged, letting go of his arm but keeping a boot firmly planted on his back to prevent him from escaping. "I hope you have a lawyer."

Foxy snorted, reaching for her unfinished second drink. "Tough luck."

Out of the corner of her eye, she spied Todd's friends inching closer to the exit door second by second, as if they could stand a chance against a professionally trained secret agent. Luckily for them, Natasha wasn't interested in the remainder of Todd's gang of losers and merely raised an eyebrow when the other men reached the door, a tiny smirk appearing when his pleading eyes didn't cause any reaction in his friends, the spineless worms, hopping out of the door without as much as a goodbye to the man laying face-down on the dirty floor.

As soon as the police arrived, awestruck by one of the NYC's most famous superheroes just casually standing in a bar, they eagerly collected the inebriated offender, briskly escorting Todd to the squad car. The bartender and several other patrons confirmed Natasha's words that an attempted hate crime had taken place. Cops were in and out in less than fifteen minutes and the otherwise-pleasant hole-in-the-wall bar returned to its usual evening bustle.

"Celebratory shots?" Natasha laughed as Foxy exhaled, deep and slow, once her racing heart calmed down.

"My treat," the other woman motioned for the bartender and soon, a line of colorful glasses appeared in front of the women. Each downed a glass easily, slamming it back on the table. "Man, this is everything I never knew I needed," Foxy confessed with a shy smile. "Thanks, Nat. You're the best."

The spy responded with a satisfied smile, picking up another glass and holding it out for a toast. "To revenge well-deserved," the glass clicked, alcohol slid easily down their throats. "So, what now?"

Foxy's eyes shone in the bright lights of the bar, relieved and tipsy. The small empty glass twirled easily between her fingers. "Dunno," the shrug came and went. "Maybe go on vacation. To Florida."

Natasha let out a belly laugh, downing her last shot without as much as a stutter in her movements, Foxy's eyes lingering on the stray drops of alcohol running from the spy's plump lips. "A vacation with the crackheads? Romantic," the quip was received with an eyeroll from the other woman.

"Spoilsport," Foxy, too, finished her booze and placed the money and a hefty tip on the bar, tapping twice to get the bartender's attention. "I meant more like - lay on the beach, sip mimosas, look at sexy people in swimsuits..."

"Florida is for old people," Natasha objected, pulling her leather jacket back on and leading them both outside. The evening air was crisp, bringing a clearer head and re-arranging the thoughts back into a more sensible state.

Foxy easily picked up her pace to match Natasha's precise strides leading them in the direction of the former's building. The warm buzz of vodka coupled with the fresh air and her desire for retribution well-fed, Foxy settled into a comfortable silence next to the spy. They reached the building quickly, their pace brisk and distractions lacking.

"Care for a nightcap?" She didn't know what prompted her to blurt out the words; as soon as the words registered in her brain, they were already out and Foxy's face heated, fingers fumbling for the keys in her pocket, Natasha's touch still warm and lingering on the side of her leg.

The spy seemed amused, studying Foxy's nervous habits with a crooked smirk. "Sure," she agreed amicably, following the woman into the apartment building, not missing both the rigidity of her back and the added spring to her step.

A moderately sized, well-decorated apartment revealed itself behind the open door, scarcely illuminated by the NYC lights coming in from a glass wall in the living room, reflecting the vast living space furnished with a large couch.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Natasha turned around, stepping into the other woman's personal space with the grace of a predator. Two shining eyes stared back at her in the darkness, framed by fluttering lashes. Foxy's bottom lip disappeared behind her teeth, skin gleaming with perspiration.

The recently-turned blonde spy wasted no time caging the other woman between her body and the door, chests almost touching. The air around them was charged, Foxy's heart thudding loudly in her chest as she gulped. Natasha studied her expression, "You want this?" she whispered against her lips, sharing the oxygen between them.

"Ye-yeah," a short nod and a gasp later, the women were devouring each other, grasping at their hands and shoulders like they were drowning. Hot and wet and sharp from the booze, the kisses were as graceless as their fingers haste in removing each other's top layers of clothing.

The sharp corner of the living room archway dug painfully into Foxy's back, bringing an additional sense of awareness: this was real. This was happening. Natasha's blonde locks flowed through Foxy's fingers, soft and silky, a contrast to the teeth pulling on her lip in impatient hunger. Foxy grunted in response, parting from the other woman to send her t-shirt flying somewhere in the direction of the kitchen.

"Bedroom," mere minutes in and she already sounded utterly and throughly ruined.

"Couch," Natasha was equally feverish to get to the good parts. Her belt was unbuckled and the nice button-up she'd worn hung open, a plain white bra iriscendent on her alabaster skin.

Letting herself be led to the couch, Foxy could barely take her eyes off the woman in front of her, making sure she wasn't ogling Natasha outright yet secretly hoping to be caught anyway. The blonde was like a porcelain doll, unreal, firm and soft at the same time.

The moment Foxy gracelessly landed on the couch, Natasha was all up in her space, straddling the other woman with the grace of a savage cat; lips once more attached to her flesh, Natasha left a trail of hot, wet marks starting at the jawline and ending at the cups of Foxy's bra.

Not knowing what to do with her hands, Foxy grasped Natasha's hips, unable to hold back a moan heavy with lust as the spy ground down with her hips. It was exhilarating to see the other woman affected by their heavy make-out session; nothing short of absolutely smitten to see Natasha pull back, panting and disheveled, to shed her shirt and her bra.

Unable to resist the urge, Foxy's hands reached out to cup the spy's round breasts, tugging her closer to pop a rosy nipple into her mouth. Natasha shivered, arching into the caress, holding onto the other woman's hair and tugging it in the direction only she knew.

Natasha wasn't loud, she wasn't wild; her moans were more like muted gasps but her body spoke for her louder than any words: the grinding was getting more impatient, Natasha's hold grew stronger. As Foxy fumbled for the button of Nat's pants, she felt the soft, delicate lace underneath. Natasha had come prepared.

"Hold on," the spy mumbled, hopping off Foxy's lap to quickly push her pants and panties down her legs with practiced ease. The other woman followed suit, leaving herself to be bare besides her underwear, the attempt to remove them intercepted by Natasha. "Let me," quiet words tickled the skin of her throat where Nat had immediately attached her mouth.

Foxy scrambled to intake the oxygen she needed, letting herself feel the hot glide fully, having lost herself in pleasure, missing the exact moment Nat's fingertips breached the waistband of her panties. Soft and nimble, so different to a man's roughened skin, the sensation was as strange as it was sweet. The urge to arch and rock her hips against the nearest surface intensified and Foxy could only keen, quiet and high, causing Natasha to chuckle to herself.

"Enjoying yourself, sweet girl?" The miniscule trace of coyness seeped into the blonde's voice. The engorged, puffy, moist flesh of Foxy's lower lips parted eagerly to Natasha's experimental dip.

"Yeah, yes," the woman slid down, spreading her legs in invitation. "Please, touch me," begging to be filled in all the empty spaces, Foxy threw her head to rest against the back of the couch, watching Nat through unfocused eyes.

"Oh, I will," the spy purred, sliding lower to put her face next to Foxy's dripping cunt. The spy's fingers glistened with arousal and she popped them into her mouth, licking them clean before doing the same to her lover's swollen folds. The response was instantaneous and loud, Foxy shook under Natasha's expert teasing. "Stay still," she ordered quietly, patting Foxy's belly.

Molten, honeyed waves of bliss overtook common sense and awareness, tiny sparks shooting up Foxy's cunt every time Natasha suckled at her clit. The spy read her body like an open book, following the movements of her hips with her mouth, always a step ahead and slightly south. Foxy's peak was imminent, approaching rapidly, as Natasha's sweet merciless assault wrung every single drop of the thick, precious liquid out of her cunt.

It only seemed to gush more, the woman pushing her cunt into Natasha's face as the latter doubled down on her efforts to bring her to ecstasy.

The waves began deep in the pit of Foxy's stomach, making her legs tremble, her toes curl and the flutters of her cunt increase in speed and intensity. Silky soft and typhoon wet, her orgasm crashed her mind into million pieces and Nat dutifully extracted everything until the last drop with the skillful touch of her tongue and fingers.

"Tash," Foxy moaned. Her legs quivered at the slightest touch to her oversensitive cunt.

"Mhm," was the blonde's reply, contented humming getting closer and closer until the womens lips met once more in a fierce, passionate kiss.

Foxy's hands immediately sought purchase on Natasha's hips, searching for the spots that would make the spy's body song in the same way she'd done to Foxy; seemingly much more reserved, quiet but happy sighs broke past Nat's lips in response to gentle hands stroking where she was most sensitive.

"I've got a vibe in my bedroom," clarity finally broke through the orgasm haze, Foxy's brain slowly coming back to reality.

"No, I want your fingers," Natasha's reply was assertive as she moved her hips in tandem with Foxy's hand, dripping the sweetness of her around all over.

The urge to pop the fingers into her mouth was strong, so Foxy did just that, moaning at the tangy taste, Natasha's breath quietly stuttering at the sight in front of her.

"I want to eat you out," the words barely had left Foxy's mouth as Natasha flipped them so she was the one laying on the couch, spread-eagled and open for the other woman's eager mouth to explore. Wet, sloppy and so, so tender, Foxy let herself taste the arousal of her lover.

"Yeah," so soft, one could easily miss it, the approval didn't get lost in the headrush nonetheless. With grace, Foxy sought the spots that would force Natasha to break her silence with slow, broad motions until the blonde had no choice but to arch her hips into the sensations, chasing her pleasure, losing the aura of restraint she'd so carefully cultivated.

No time for self-control. The temperatures were climbing steadily with every single movement, both lost in their imperfect shared rhythm, the soft of Foxy's tongue and fingers like finest silks on Natasha's eager cunt. Two fingers slipped in without resistance, immediately seeking out the soft, spongy spot that made the blonde's toes curl and mouth open in a silent scream.

Foxy's free hand groped around for Natasha's ass hastily, bringing her hips closer to her mouth, tongue never ceasing its assault on the blonde's clit as her body grew more rigid, fingertips going white with the force she was gripping the comforter.

"Gospodi bozhe," came the mumble, the only warning before Natasha's powerful thighs locked Foxy in place as the blonde rode out her orgasm, violently shivering, dousing the other woman's face in her sweet release. Dutifully, Foxy stroked the silk of Natasha's skin everywhere she could reach, her hot breath on the blonde's pussy easing her back to Earth through the aftershocks.

Natasha's eyes opened, feeling her lover's look of adoration, and she cracked a reluctant but genuine smile. There was something about Foxy that was just so-

Natasha taglist (open, see fic hat for info; crossed out nicknames are the ones I couldn't tag, please update your info):

@mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @persephonehemingway @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @xoxabs88xox @marvelsbanner @sapphicnoodle69

#bun writes #bun writes: drabbles #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n #black widow x female reader #black widow smut #black widow x reader

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emerald-echeveria-plant · 3 years

Text

Bro I gotta stop making these ocs 💀

Name: Jeremiah Cassidy Shih

Name pronunciation: jeh-ruh-mai-uh Cas-si-di Sh-ih

Personality: non-talkative, hot-headed, secretive, hides his true emotions, and violent

Age: 15

Species: Human

Sexuality: Unknown

Gender: Male

Pronouns: He/Him

Looks: brown hair, blue eyes, white skin, and freckles

Backstory: (Dis is loooooong) Before getting in his past, we first have to talk about his mother, Anne Larson or as her actual birth name Chenguang Shih. Chenguang was the daughter of the notoriously known unhinged pirate, Baozhai. Baozhai ended up having Chenguang completely by accident after she had a one night stand with one of her crewmates. She decided to keep the baby, wanting to start a long line of pirates like her. Baozhai had the baby girl just around when her torment was finally being taken seriously by the royals. Unfortunately, Baozhai ended up passing away on her boat when a cannon caused it to come crashing down. Luckily, Chenguang was safe as she had been taken by Baozhai's right hand man, Ironbeard with her. He did his best to care for the girl, holding up the legacy his captain would've wanted. Yet, he was a wanted criminal along with the other crewmates that survived the crash, so taking care of her was very difficult. But Ironbeard still pushed through.

Unfortunately, Ironbeard and the other were caught by a couple of guards and locked away. A judge sentenced them to be publicly executed by hanging the next. As for baby Chenguang, she was taken away and raised by the captain of the guards. Her full name being changed to Anne Larson just a few days later. When the day arrived for Ironbeard and the others be hung, the guards were surprise to see that they had escaped during the night. Ironbeard swore revenge for his captain and that he would one day return. As for the baby, he couldn't find her and gave up as the guards were on his tail. He regretted to not have fulfilled Baozhai's wish and those guards were going to pay for what they had done.

As for Anne, she was raised to never know of the events that took place. Her adoptive father, also known as Maxwell Larson, had told her of Baozhai and how she was a psychopathic murder that deserved what she got. So, Anne grew up hating Baozhai despite the fact she was actually hating her own biological mother. As she grew, Anne became educated and sophisticated. She quickly rose up to be one of the smartest students in her class. Getting all A's and being presented with awards for her achievements. Anne was asked to join a university of astronomy which she gladly accepted.

While she was attending, she ended up meeting a handsome young man by the name of Aaron Brown. Aaron was the typical bad boy that would rather get into trouble then be in class. He was charming, funny, and very attractive... Aaron easily charmed Anne which made her fall in love with him. Instead of focusing on her studies, she'd often daydream about him. Anne just couldn't get him out of her head. Eventually, Aaron asked her out and they went on a date. Which spiraled into several dates... Which turned into them dating each other. Anne would often ditch class just to be with him. This caused her to fail her class. Maxwell was angry at her for this. He demanded she'd retake the year and to leave Aaron. Anne was too far in love with him and didn't give into what he wanted.

Instead, Anne ended up dropping out of the university to further pursue her relationship with Aaron. They got married a few months afterwards and left their home planet. Anne decided to work as a weaver as Aaron became a marine. A year into their marriage, it all came crumbling down. Anne became severely depressed as she realized she gave up her dreams of becoming an astrologist. Aaron no longer found her attractive and began to pursuing other women behind her back. They argued a lot more than usual and it began to get physical. Finally the rose tinted glasses came off and they began to see how bad their relationship was. Anne wanted to save their marriage because she couldn't bare the thought being alone. Aaron still wanting the good things that came in a relationship while secretly having side pieces, decided to work with her on their marriage. The two came to a conclusion that having a child would be the best way to solve it.

Six months later, Jeremiah was born. Surprise, surprise, their relationship didn't get any better. Poor Jeremiah was now thrown into the picture of a broken marriage. Aaron became abusive towards Anne and didn't allow her to leave the house without his say. She'd get hurt if he didn't listen to what he said. Jeremiah wasn't safe from his abusive nature also. If the lad dared to bother him, he'd be met with a smack to the face. For five straight years had Anne and Jeremiah endured the abuse of Aaron. Anne finally decided to break from Aaron's abuse when something terrible happened to Jeremiah. One night during a drunken rage, Aaron put his hands on Jeremiah and tore out his left eye with a broken bottle. The event made Anne realize how horrible the situation was getting and it wasn't going to change unless he did something about it.

So during the night, she grabbed whatever she could carry and escaped with Jeremiah. Anne went back to her home planet where asked a place to stay with her adoptive father. Maxwell would've turned her away but when he saw the situation she was very distressed. He quickly let her in, where she explained what happened to her over the course of the years she's been gone for. Maxwell decided he would help her get back on her feet and get her son some needed medical attention. With his connections, Anne was able to earn a job as an assistant for an astrologist. She began to focus on her mental health which got better overtime. The same couldn't be said for Jeremiah. His worsened.

The abuse of his father caused major trauma in him that he wasn't able to get over. He became quiet, easily angered by others, and had thoughts about violence. Since he only had one eye now, he was bullied by the other kids once he was able to go to school. This aggravated him and he'd often get into fights because of it. Anne decided to pull him out of public school and into homeschool because things were getting out of hand. Jeremiah was taken to several doctors to see what was wrong with him. Each time, he refused to say anything. Anne stopped trying to help him since he was refusing to help himself. Yet, he was just a child. A child who wanted help but didn't know how to say it. Maxwell, decided to take over for trying to help him. Or what he thought would help him. He sent Jeremiah to a boot camp where he'd be straightened out for his bad behavior. Jeremiah loathed Maxwell for this and promised himself he'd get revenge. Life at the boot camp was utter hell. He was pushed to limits that caused him to have mental breakdowns in private. Jeremiah didn't have any friends. This caused him to be the target of the bullying of the other boys there. Throughout the torment, he was able to find comfort in the tales of well known pirates. His favorite being of the insane pirate captain Baozhai. Something about her unhinged, eccentric personality and her cruel brutality against others whenever the messed with her, manged put a smile on his face. (Baozhai in an old photo: *tearing someone's guts out.*

Jeremiah: 🙂)

At fourteen years old, Jeremiah made surprising a discovery that he was biological related to Baozhai. He had overheard Maxwell chatting with another guard about how he was glad Anne never grew up knowing that she was related to that maniac. Yet now that Jeremiah knew, he was angry that this knowledge was withheld from him. Why would they do such a thing? He tried telling his mother about this... His mother called him crazy... crazy... crazy...

That was the breaking point for Jeremiah. For a majority of his life, he was told that there was something wrong with him and that he needed help. Often being titled mentally ill or not alright in the head... Despite knowing he was, he was just tired of being treated like one.

Jeremiah ended up running away from his home planet by hiding on a cargo ship. He wanted to start somewhere fresh, where he wouldn't be as well known. He also wanted to know more about Baozhai, since most books didn't have enough information about her having a child, other than speculated rumors. For a while, he traveled around places, in search for more knowledge about his grandmother aka Baozhai. That's when he walked into a small tavern. He tried to figure out where else he could ask about her. An anonymous figure in the corner asked why he was wanted to learn about these things. Jeremiah, in the best way he could, explained that Baozhai was his grandmother. The tavern exploded into laughter after hearing him say that. They mocked him for a bit until the anonymous figure silenced the entire tavern by shooting a random person. They stood up and recounted the tale of Baozhai's fall. How she wanted the death of the upper class to continue. It was originally her plan to make a line of pirates to be like her. Then it was all ruined because of the guards. How he admitted that he failed because he wasn't careful enough... It was Ironbeard recounting all of this. He decided to continue with what she would've wanted... If Jeremiah wanted to join him. Jeremiah quickly took the deal, seeing as there was nothing holding him back now. On the outside, it didn't seem he was all too excited but on the inside, he was thrilled to finally be apart of something... And that he'd get to be just like his idol.

Likes: sharp objects, creepy bugs, reading, drawing, smoking cigars, and cats

Dislikes: his left eye, being told he's crazy, others trying to get close to him, physical affection (even though he sorta wants it), and long conversations

Other: Jeremiah doesn't like being called Jeremy or Jerry or literally any nickname to his name. If someone calls him "Jeremy" he would literally rip out their tonsils.

#tw: abuse #i feel like I made him too edgy...#what do you guys think?#oc insert #tw: long post #this baby boy just wants wants to be loved and told that there's nothing wrong with him 😞🥺#Jeremiah

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