#I try to write things down so people can keep up with what is going on by good lord my mind works faster than my fingers

[covenofagatha]

Hey! I would love to give you an idea of your next fic!

How about G!p!Director!Agatha asks Actress!R if they can make a sex tape, so she won't be lonely that much when R is away for work(They're married). Turns out she feels even more lonely and hornier when R is away. She's going crazy when she sees her cum leaking out of R in the video. She's been sending R videos of her fucking fleshlight and express how much she needs R. And when R gets back home, they fuck like a horny teen. (Breeding would be perfect for this🤩🤩)

Thank you so much!! I love all your fics!!!🩷

Ohhh 🫠🥵 writing this one killed me in the best possible way

Baby, you're a star

Word count: 8.3k

Warnings: mommy kink, filming, GP Agatha, sex toys, breeding kink, masturbation, blowjobs, sex, oral sex, fingering, minor spanking, so much filth, porn with very little plot, I have never written this much smut in a single post

Taglist: @lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly

You’re running, running from something, and it’s closing in on you. Looking back over your shoulder, a terrified look on your face, you trip and end up sprawling onto the ground. 

It’s about to get you. Your eyes widen in fear, a loud sound coming from the distance —

“And…cut! That’s a wrap!” With the shout from your director, your character of Samantha Wren, a girl haunted by a dark creature from her past that finally catches up to her, melts away and you push yourself off the set floor, brushing your hands on your torn pants. 

The scene you just shot is the cliffhanger ending to the film, The Figure in the Walls, where Samantha is sprinting through the woods after realizing what the monster is, trying to get away. It’s unclear if she does, which leaves some room for a sequel. 

The movie’s director, Agatha Harkness, steps out from behind the cameras and slow-claps, smirking at you. You make a beeline for her and she wraps an arm around your shoulders and steers you away from the set. A PA jogs over and hands you a cup of coffee and a bagel. You’ve been filming for the past five hours, doing scenes from earlier that weren’t as good and finishing up the movie sequence, and you’re starving. 

“You did so good, honey,” Agatha murmurs into your ear and presses a quick kiss to your temple. 

It’s not a secret on set that the two of you are married, you both just prefer to keep it professional for the most part, at least when other people can see you. 

You first met Agatha at the Golden Globes about two and a half years ago. You had never met, but were both nominated for separate projects: you for Best Supporting Actress in a Comedy, and her for Best Director. A mutual friend had introduced you to her during a commercial break, and you hit it off instantly. 

There was almost something magnetic between you, and it just kept pulling you to her all night long. You won for your category, and so did she, and the picture of you two with your Globes is framed above the fireplace mantle in your mansion. 

You’re beaming at the camera while Agatha is staring down your dress, trying to look inconspicuous. When you tease her about it, she says she was just looking at the trophy. 

It’s unclear if she means the Globe, or you. 

She had invited you to go to an afterparty with her and you had immediately agreed. It was a quiet, intimate sort of thing with an open bar, and she had brazenly flirted while the warmth from the alcohol settled pleasantly in your stomach. 

After a few hours and after you had been practically sitting in her lap for quite some time, she said that she should get going, but asked for your number. 

You had clasped her cheeks and pulled her into a hot kiss right there and promptly dragged her out the door into your car and back to your apartment. 

A year and a half later, she asked you to marry her as you were walking along the Santa Monica Pier. The sun was setting, purples and pinks reflecting off the ocean waves, and you had never felt so happy in your entire life. You bought a mansion in Beverly Hills together, and you’ve lived there ever since. 

When Agatha first signed onto direct The Figure in the Walls, your name had been already thrown around as for who would play the lead. You still don’t know if she pulled some strings, and there was obviously gossip that you had only gotten the role because your wife was directing, but Agatha assured you that once everyone saw your performance, there would be no doubt that you had earned every part of it. 

“Thank you,” you whisper to your wife. You can’t believe the movie is finally done, but your turn-around is quick. Tomorrow, you fly out to meet with an agent in New York about a new film franchise in the works. If you land the lead role, it would be absolutely huge for your career. 

You will be gone for a week, though, and you and Agatha have been looking forward to some time for just yourselves. You’re eager to get home and at least have tonight, but with the wrap party and the closing speeches, it’s going to be awhile before you’re able to. 

Some of the other cast members come over and mingle while you sip on a soda, but you can feel Agatha’s eyes on you the whole time. At one point, you give in and glance over to where she’s sitting — all alone in her director’s chair for some reason, but she’s facing you. 

She uncrosses her legs and slouches back, casually putting a hand on her right upper thigh. Agatha ever so slightly spreads the fabric of her dark gray pants and you can see — she’s half-hard. Just from watching you, just from the thought of finally getting some quality time. You’ve made it work with the busy schedule, always finding a half hour for a quick fuck every now and then, but it’s been too long since you’ve been able to take your time. There’s the unspoken promise that neither of you will be sleeping much tonight. 

Swallowing roughly and trying to fight back the heat creeping into your cheeks, you turn back to your co-stars and try to look like you’re listening. 

And then finally everyone starts to leave. With Agatha being the director, she waits until every single member of the cast and crew has gone while you sit and impatiently tap your foot. 

“You ready?” Agatha asks and you jump out of your seat, eagerly nodding, and she laughs. “Looking forward to something?” 

“I can’t wait for you to fuck me, mommy,” you answer matter-of-factly and it catches her off-guard for the slightest second. 

It’s not often you’re this bold and straight-forward without her prompting. And she fucking loves it. 

The car is already waiting outside — you called it while you were waiting for everyone to leave — and the air between the two of you crackles with electricity. The tension is thick, but neither of you move to disturb it, instead just choosing to let it build until you’re in the sanctity of your home. 

But your breathing quickens and you can feel your underwear getting gradually wetter, the anticipation steadily rising. When you look over at your wife, you can see her fully-hardened cock straining against the fabric of her tailored pants and her long fingers are digging into her thighs, making her veins pop. 

It’s about twenty minutes later of lingering looks between darkened eyes when the car pulls into the driveway of your house. 

Agatha barely thanks the driver before you’re both scrambling out of the car and up to your front door. 

The moment it’s closed, you’re shoved against the pillar next to it, Agatha’s mouth on yours in a bruising kiss. 

“Fuck,” you moan, her tongue hotly licking against yours. She grunts in agreement before grabbing your wrists and holding them over your head, thrusting her right leg between yours. You can feel her cock, can feel the heat radiating off it, and you throb against it and swiftly grind down. 

She groans into your mouth and angles her leg up higher and you can feel her dick pulse, which makes the ache inside you grow unbearable. Your kiss has become sloppy, a flurry of teeth and lips and tongue, and she pulls back to trail her mouth down your neck. You hiss when she sucks a bite and it makes your hips jerk involuntarily. 

“Agatha — mommy, please,” you whimper, your cunt absolutely dripping. All of your thoughts are being consumed by her right now, and you just need more. You need her fingers, her mouth, her cock inside you, you need her. 

Agatha chuckles breathlessly, planting an open-mouth kiss on your lips. “What do you need, honey?” 

It’s almost frustrating that she’s making you say it, like it isn’t the most obvious thing in the world how desperate you are for her. “Can we — upstairs?” Your head is spinning and it feels like you’re drunk with need. 

If it were any other time, she would make you repeat it and ask clearly. But she knows, she always knows, and there’s no time to waste. 

She lets go of one of your wrists but pulls you by the other to the staircase and then stops on the third stair to kiss you again, like she can’t possibly wait. She sucks on your tongue and you gasp. 

“Fuck, mommy’s going to miss you tomorrow,” she mutters and in the haze in your head, you feel a slight pang of sadness. Agatha would’ve come with you, but she has a meeting here that she can’t miss either. It’s tough to be apart, even for just a week. 

But then the sentimental moment is gone and her teeth sink into your bottom lip, her hand coming up to rest around your throat. She barely even squeezes but it does wonders — you clench around nothing, eyes glazing over, and you let out a strangled gasp. 

Agatha smirks and tugs you the rest of the way to your bedroom. Shoes are kicked off and she quickly helps you take off the shirt and pants you changed into after filming and then you rip open the silk button-down shirt she’s wearing, sending buttons flying everywhere. She pushes down her pants and underwear and a ragged gasp tears itself out of your mouth when you see her cock, hard and red and leaking. 

You let out a small moan and move closer to touch it, but she stops you. 

“Honey,” she says, a bit timidly, and concern washes over you like a bucket of cold water. 

“What’s wrong, is everything okay?” you ask. She looks around, biting her lip like she’s not sure how to phrase it. “Hey, whatever it is, you can tell me. Is it something bad?” 

Agatha shakes her head. “No, it’s just something I was thinking of. Something I wanted to see if you’d want to try, just because you’re going to be away for a bit.” A flash of heat bursts through you — usually you’re the one who brings up wanting to try new things in the bedroom, but now that it’s Agatha, fuck, you can’t wait. 

“Yeah?” you breathe. 

“I was wondering if you’d let me film you — us. While we have sex,” she says and your cunt throbs. You’d never thought of it, but you can see it in your mind now. You can imagine how hot it would be to watch yourself take her cock. “So when you’re gone and I get lonely, I can watch it back and remember what a good girl you are for me.”

The praise settles right into your stomach and now you can’t stop thinking about Agatha stroking her cock while watching the two of you have sex. 

“You want to, what, direct me in a porno?” you ask, partly as a joke, but there’s no missing the involuntary sound that slips out of her lips, no missing the darkening of her already hungry eyes. “Fuck. Okay.” 

She looks a little surprised at your easy agreement, but presses a chaste kiss to your lips, and then another one, and then leaves the room. You sit down on your bed, the excitement almost overwhelming, and try to slow your racing heart. 

It’s only a minute before Agatha comes back, holding the iPad that she uses for work sometimes, and a stand for it. Has she been preparing for this? The thought sears through your veins and you feel yourself getting even more wetter. 

Her cock seems to get harder if possible as she sets it up close to the bed and the moment she nods and steps back, you feel a new-found sense of confidence wash over you. 

You’ve always come alive in front of the cameras, you thrive under being watched, and it feels no different now, even if you’re not becoming a character. 

It’s exhilarating. And you’re going to do your best to put on a show. 

“Move to the center of the bed,” Agatha orders, still watching through the screen. You swallow roughly and obey — you’ve always found it incredibly sexy watching her command a scene with just her words, and now that she’s doing it in this context? 

Fuck. 

You lean back against the pillows and look at her, awaiting her next instruction. Agatha nods and her eyes rake over you appreciatively. “Spread your legs and touch yourself over your underwear.” 

Moaning softly, you widen your legs and plant your feet flat on the bed so your knees are bent. And then you cup your pussy and your lips part involuntarily when you feel how wet you are. The fabric is absolutely drenched and you can see from the look on Agatha’s face that she can tell too. 

You slowly start to trace the outline of your pussy lips through your panties, up and down over your slit, and then when you circle over your clit finally, your back arches off the bed and you sigh heavily. The pleasure is so much more acute now — is it because of the camera? Because you know that Agatha is going to fuck herself later to this?

“There you go, honey,” your wife says approvingly. There’s a wild look in her eyes and her hands are twitching like she’s dying to touch her cock. The tip is even more red now, and you can see beads of liquid collecting and dripping onto the floor. Your hips jolt when you press down harder on your clit. “Take your underwear off and tease your entrance — but don’t go inside just yet.” 

You have to peel your panties off your sopping wet pussy and you teasingly toss them over to her. She catches them and lets out a surprised groan when she actually feels them. 

And then she lifts them to her nose and breathes in the scent of your wetness and your clit pulses. You try to focus on her instructions and glide a finger through your folds, molten hot and dripping. You dip into your pussy and then withdraw. You repeat and whimper at how good you know it’s going to feel when she finally lets you fuck yourself. 

“Slide one finger in slowly,” she demands and your head drops back as you do, the stretch nowhere near enough but still feeling delicious. Your walls immediately clench down around it and you moan. 

When you look back at Agatha, your hips roll of their own accord — she’s started stroking her cock with your underwear. You can see how she’s glistening with your wetness and she thrusts every few times like she can’t control it. 

“Mommy, can you…” Pleasure swims in your mind when you curl your finger and it interrupts your thoughts for a second. “Want you to be in the video, too.” You want to watch it back and see her as well.

Agatha inhales sharply. “Yeah, okay, babygirl. Whatever you want.” And then she steps around the iPad and comes into view of the shot, standing near the side of the bed so you can see each other more clearly. 

Her cock bobs up and down and you time your thrusts inside you with each of her strokes so you can imagine it’s her inside you. 

“Put another finger in,” she rasps and starts to speed up, your underwear moving frictionlessly over her with how wet it is. 

The addition of a second finger makes you groan loudly and you can’t even tell if you’re trying to show off for the camera or not. Everything is so much more heightened now. 

She makes you fuck yourself like that for about ten minutes, every now and then telling you to fuck yourself faster, babygirl and slow down, sweetheart and fuck, honey, you look so fucking hot for mommy. 

You’re a complete mess now, absolutely ruined and babbling incoherently, soaking the sheets beneath you. Your orgasm has been steadily building this whole time and you know it won’t be much longer before you cum. 

Agatha is also close by the looks of it; she’s completely flushed, her chest and neck tinted the prettiest pink, and her cock is leaking even more, her hips moving more sporadically. The ache inside you isn’t going away — it’s only getting worse the more you look at her. 

“Mommy,” you whine, needing to feel your wife on you more than anything. “Please, please fuck me.” 

“I know, baby,” she pants. “Just a second, let mommy move the camera.” And god, it makes you throb when she grabs the stand and angles it perpendicularly to the bed. 

And then she climbs on the bed and situates herself between your open legs and leans over you so she can drag her cock through your soaked folds. The gasp she lets out drives you crazy and you keen when she rubs her tip against your clit. 

“Beg for mommy,” she says, hair falling down over her face as she bites her lip. She positions herself right at your opening. 

“I need you so bad, please fill me up, please fuck me, I need you so bad, mommy —” She pushes into you in one motion and your mouth drops open. Your walls immediately clamp down around her and she groans at the feeling. 

It’s exactly what you need and when she starts to move, soft sounds fall from your lips with every thrust. 

She twitches inside you when you pull her down for a quick kiss. “God, I can’t wait to watch this,” she grunts and it makes you clench. Her hips stutter. “You’re so good, such a good slut for me. Taking my cock like a superstar. Fuck, honey, I’m going to watch the video everyday, gonna figure out how to make it my home screen.” 

The thought of Agatha opening up her phone to immediately see you being fucked by her makes you moan gutteraly and she huffs out a laugh. “Mommy, please.” 

“Fuck, baby, you really like this, don’t you?” You nod your head quickly under her and her cock throbs inside you. You’re so fucking close. She feels so good inside you, her cock dragging deliciously against your walls, and hitting that spot inside you that she always does. 

Pleasure is rolling over your body in waves and you lift your hips to meet each of her thrusts. It’s never been this intense before and you can’t believe you never thought to try filming sex before. 

Agatha’s rhythm starts to falter inside you, she’s cursing, short of breath. She reaches between you to rub at your clit with two fingers and it makes you sob with how good it feels. 

“Agatha, I’m so close,” you whine, beg. She ruts into you urgently, like she’s about to cum but needs to make sure you get there too, and she scrapes her teeth against your collarbone with a sharp thrust and presses on your clit and you explode, your orgasm tearing through your body and absolutely blowing your mind. 

Your walls convulse around her and she stiffens, her breathing tightening, and then she lets out a long moan and you feel her pulse before her seed spreads through your cunt. You gasp at the warmth and Agatha collapses on top of you. 

She lays there until she starts to soften before pulling out. Her cum starts to trickle out of your swollen pussy and you grind against nothing at the sensation but Agatha quickly jumps off the bed and grabs the iPad off the camera. 

You gasp when you figure out what she’s doing — Agatha holds your legs open and holds the camera down close to your pussy. 

“Spread your folds,” she directs, but without any of the authority she usually has. You reach down and do as she asks, more of her cum oozing out as you do. She swears under your breath. “Make yourself messy.” 

You know what she means. You collect the wetness between your legs, both hers and your own, and start to stroke it all over your cunt. 

“Fuck, honey, just like that,” she says and you rub your clit again, your body jerking under your own touch. “Clean your fingers.” 

And then she lifts the camera to film you sucking your two cum-covered fingers into your mouth. You moan at the taste of both of you and Agatha looks like she might ravish you all over again. 

The iPad gets tossed somewhere else on the bed and she leans over to kiss you before crawling down your body and cleans out her cum from inside you with her tongue.

Agatha doesn’t stop until she’s made you cum three more times. 

When you wake up in the morning, there’s a pleasant soreness in between your legs and the sheets are still slightly damp. Light has started to stream in through the curtains on the large windows and you roll onto your side to find that it’s 8 am. 

You have to be at the airport in an hour. 

“Fuck,” you curse and jump out of bed, rushing around to get dressed and throw some clothes into a suitcase. With the end of the film, you haven’t had much time to get ready for this trip, and you are sorely regretting it now. 

Agatha stirs while you’re trying to find the black dress for the cocktail party you have to go to in New York and mumbles something. You pause and wait for her to repeat herself. “Why don’t you come back to bed?” she asks suggestively, picking her head up to watch you. 

“Babe, I have to be at the airport in an hour,” you say apologetically. “How do you still have energy after last night?” 

Agatha chuckles and gets out of bed, coming over to wrap her arms around your shoulders from behind. You can feel her semi-erection through your suit pants. “I just always want to fuck you,” she murmurs into your ear and you debate whether or not you have enough time. 

In the end, logic wins and you twist in her arms to give her a quick peck on the lips. “I’m sorry. When I get back I’ll make it up to you. Plus,” you say, eyebrows raising mischievously, “you have that video from last night.” The memory of making it heats through you — Agatha directing you on how to touch yourself. 

You will definitely need to revisit that in the future. 

But it does very little to quell Agatha’s lust and she grumbles as she goes to get dressed. “Maybe, when you get back, I’ll make you cockwarm me while we watch our little home movie and if you make one move, I won’t let you cum for a week.” 

The idea runs straight through you right into your cunt and you seriously debate saying fuck it to New York entirely. 

But an hour later, Agatha’s pulling up to the airport to drop you off and giving you a tight hug while she whispers in her ear how much she loves you. 

You miss her the second you walk into the terminal, but you try to focus on preparing for your trip. There’s a few dinners, meetings, and parties that you’re expected to attend, just to get to know the right people for the next project that you could potentially be in. You know the other actresses being considered will also be there, so you need to be on your A-game. 

And you’re able to focus for the entire plane ride, memorizing parts of the script they gave you, and when you land, you pull out your phone to text Agatha that you made it, only to find that she’s already messaged you a few times. 

I miss you already, honey. 

Hope you have a great time in NY! I know they’ll love you. 

I wish I didn’t have to be here for this stupid meeting. I’d have loved to be there with you. 

The first ones make you smile at how sweet your wife can be. But then the next couple are enough to reignite the fire in your stomach from earlier. 

I miss your pussy, babygirl. 

Can’t wait for you to come home so I can taste you. 

Fuck, baby, mommy is so hard for you. 

You’re too caught up in the messages to realize that your row is moving and the person in the middle seat taps your shoulder to get your attention. You startle and mutter an apology, hoping he didn’t accidentally see anything she sent you. 

As you’re getting checked into the hotel, you get another text from your wife and the second you open it, you have to slam your phone down on the receptionist’s desk. She gives you a weird look but you pretend not to see it. 

Watching the video — mommy loves watching her cum drip out of you. Fuck, honey. I’m going crazy. 

Your heart is pounding, blood rushing to your cheeks, and you quickly take your room key and hurry up to the room. You press the call button and put your phone on speaker so you can start unpacking. 

Agatha answers immediately. “Hey, sweetheart,” she says, the most casual you’ve ever heard, and you clench your jaw. 

“Agatha, what are you doing? I haven’t even been gone six hours. You’re going to kill the both of us!” 

Her low chuckle makes you squeeze your legs together involuntarily. “I’m actually all right, baby. Remember that fleshlight you got me as a gag gift last Christmas?” 

Fuck. “Agatha,” you say warningly. You have to be at a steakhouse in about thirty minutes — you don’t have time for her to get you all worked up. You were so distracted this morning you didn’t even bring any of your toys with you either. 

“Of course it’s not as good as the real thing,” she sighs, and you can hear a soft slapping noise on the other side. You feel dizzy with heat. 

“Are you…” you trail off, not even sure you could say the rest out loud. Could you pretend to be sick tonight? 

Agatha lets out a little moan and you’re sure it must be for show, just to rub it in. “Fucking this toy and pretending it’s your pussy?”

You can’t stop the gasp that escapes your lips and you have to sit down on the bed. “Fuck, mommy,” you whine and she laughs cruelly. 

“Don’t you have that dinner to get ready for?” she asks and with a sinking feeling in your stomach, you know what’s going to happen. You hum, almost wishing you would’ve lied. Agatha grunts, the slapping sound speeding up, and you have to close your eyes. “Well, I’ll leave you to it, then. Love you.” 

She hangs up before you can protest and you’re forced to get into the shower, the heat in your stomach burning more than the water, and your hand makes its way between your legs to furiously rub your clit. 

You cum in about three minutes. 

You can barely focus at dinner with the thought of her using a fleshlight, one that you got her as a joke nonetheless. Her hard thrusts into the toy, picturing your mouth or pussy. 

When you finally get back to the hotel, you’re absolutely exhausted. The travel, being teased by Agatha, and now that dinner where you had to pretend like your body wasn’t screaming for you to get on a plane and go home to your wife wiped you out, and you barely press send on a goodnight text to her before you’re passed out. 

The next few days pass in a blur with events jam-packed into your schedule and you hardly have any time to talk to Agatha. She’s good for the most part, with the occasional dirty text every now and then. 

But on your second-to-last day in New York, she starts to play a different game. 

You’re sightseeing, checking out the American Museum of Natural History, when your phone buzzes. It’s a video from Agatha. 

You don’t really think much and you click on it and your jaw drops as your entire body freezes. 

It starts out shaky and it takes a few moments for it to focus, Agatha clearly in the middle of something. And then it points down and you see Agatha fucking the fleshlight. 

Turn your phone off your brain screams. But it’s as if you’re stuck, your eyes glued to the screen to watch her thrust over and over into the silicone toy. She’s holding it with her left hand, her phone in her right, and her hips are driving her cock into the fake pussy hard. You can almost feel her cock inside you, as if the toy and you are connected. 

She’s going faster and you wish more than anything you weren’t out in public so you could turn up the volume and hear her moaning, hear if she’s saying anything. It cuts off right as she’s about to cum. You have no doubt that you will be very busy with the video once you get back to your room. 

And by the time you get back to the hotel, she’s sent you another one. Luckily, you don’t have anything for two hours, so you’re free to do whatever you want. 

You’re almost afraid to click on it, and you shimmy off your jeans and underwear preemptively. You’ve been worked up for so long and you’ve barely had a chance to touch yourself and you breathe a sigh of relief when your fingers press against your clit. 

Clicking on the new video, your pussy spasms when you realize what you’re watching. 

Agatha has the iPad set up on the table, the video of you two open and playing. It’s strange to see your own face contorted with pleasure on film while Agatha tells you how to touch yourself. 

And then in the lower half of the video she just sent is her, thrusting into the fleshlight again. 

“Fuck,” you whisper. She’s fucking the toy while watching you fuck yourself. You turn the volume all the way up so you don’t miss anything and her little grunts with each drive only turn you on more. 

Your wetness makes a squelching sound when you drag your fingers up and down through your folds and when you come back up to circle at your clit, there’s almost no friction. 

“God, babygirl, mommy can’t wait for you to come back,” Agatha groans and it makes your heart skip a beat. On the iPad, Agatha has slid her cock into you and you’re in awe at how hot it is watching yourself get fucked. 

It becomes quite clear to you that Agatha’s idea of having you cockwarm her while watching this video would not bode well for you. There is absolutely no way you’d be able to stay still, as evidenced by your squirming hips grinding against your hand right now. 

Agatha takes her cock out of the fleshlight, puts it down, and strokes her hand quickly over it and a flash of heat bolts through you when you see it glistening. And then she places the toy on the table and teases her tip against the opening, sliding it up and down, you keen and your back arches off the bed. 

All you’re doing is touching your clit a little. 

On the iPad, Agatha’s speeding up and you’re whimpering underneath her. In the video you just got, she starts to slowly push her cock back into the fleshlight. 

In your hotel room, you shove two fingers inside you, moaning at the stretch, and begin to thrust in time with Agatha, who is thrusting in time with the video you made. 

“Fuck, honey, I need your pussy,” she babbles and you curl your fingers just right, a moan slipping out of your mouth. “Can’t wait to fuck you when you come back, can’t wait to fill you up.” 

Her thrusts are becoming shallower into the toy, her sounds getting louder, and you’re right there with her. 

You’re determined not to cum before she does, even though it’s a video and you could speed it up to cum with her. But you don’t want to miss a thing. 

Turns out, you don’t have to wait too long, because when Agatha on the iPad moves the camera close to your pussy after she came inside you, her cum gushing out of you, that’s it for your wife. 

“You feel so good,” Agatha says on the video before letting out a long moan and thrusting roughly one more time into the fleshlight. She stiffens and grunts and then pulls her cock out and lowers her phone so you can see her cum still spurting out onto the lips of the fleshlight. 

That makes you cum almost immediately and you clamp a hand over your mouth so you don’t get any neighbors in the hotel wondering what you’re up to. 

The video ends shortly after that and leaves you gasping for breath on the bed. You type out a quick Can’t wait to get home tomorrow and hit send. Thankfully, your plane leaves in the morning so you’ll be home soon.

Agatha immediately sends you back a wink emoji and then an eggplant emoji, making you laugh. 

After the last dinner, you watch the video again and make yourself cum two more times. 

It’s been the longest week of your life, and when the agent for the franchise drops you off at the airport, you barely remember to shake her hand. 

“We’ll be in touch,” she says. “But between you and me, I think you have a very good shot of getting this part.” 

Even through the horny fog in your mind, you realize just how big of a deal this is and you can’t wait to tell Agatha. 

You call her while you’re waiting to board and tell her. 

“Honey, that is amazing,” she gushes and your heart swells. Agatha has been your number one cheerleader since you met. 

“You know I’d be spending a lot of time in New York. If you could barely last a week, imagine how hard that would be,” you joke. 

Agatha snorts. “I’d come visit you all the time. Or I’ll just quit my job and become your trophy wife.” 

The thought of the legendary director quitting her job for anyone makes you laugh. “Yeah, yeah. Got to get on the plane, Mrs. Harkness. I’ll see you in a few hours.” 

“I can’t wait, baby,” she says, her voice dropping an octave and making your stomach warm. 

The entire plane ride, you can’t stop thinking about Agatha — about her hands, her mouth, her legs, her cock. 

Would anyone notice if you pulled up that video again? Maybe you could go to the bathroom. With how you’re feeling right now, you wouldn’t need more than a few minutes. 

And it only gets worse when you finally land and a car is already waiting for you to take you back. Excitement vibrates under your skin as you get closer to your house and you have to fan yourself to calm down. You can already feel your underwear sticking to you uncomfortably — lacy purple lingerie you brought on the trip just so you could wear it home. 

When the car pulls into your driveway, you tip the driver and try to walk up to the door as slowly as possible, not wanting to seem too urgent. 

The front door opens right when you get there and your wife is standing there, two glasses of red wine in her hand, casual pants and a tank top on, hair in a loose ponytail. You’re not sure she’s ever looked so hot. 

“Hi,” you breathe, shutting the door behind you and leaning in for a quick kiss. Agatha deepens it and presses a glass into your hand and you take a long gulp. 

“How was the flight?” she asks, sipping on her own wine. You drop the suitcase in the foyer and walk into your living room before plopping down on the white couch. She follows and sits next to you, her thigh touching yours. 

Your heart is pumping so fast and you couldn’t care less about the flight because you’re finally here, with her. So you take her wine glass and put it on the coffee table with yours before climbing into her lap and kissing her roughly. 

She makes a slightly surprised “oomph” before her tongue is in your mouth, entangling with yours, her hands creeping under your shirt and stroking up and down the skin of your sides. Her fingers are cold and they make you gasp. 

“I missed you so much,” you murmur against her mouth and grind down hard on her rapidly growing bulge. She hisses and digs her fingernails into you. “You fucking tortured me.” 

She laughs breathlessly, tugging on your bottom lip with her teeth. “I thought the video would help. It just made it so much fucking worse,” she admits and your entire body heats up. “I was so lonely — so horny — fuck, baby.” She loses her train of thought when you kiss down her neck and nip. 

“I need your cock so bad,” you whimper, having thought of little else for the last twenty-four hours. You slide off her lap and onto the floor between her legs, your body moving faster than your mind, and you’re undoing her pants before either of you realize what you’re doing. 

You pull her cock out and lick up the length with your flattened tongue and the sound she makes, somewhere between a gasp and a groan, goes straight to your cunt. She slouches more onto the couch so it’s easier for you to start lathering your saliva all over her. Her hips thrust up every now and then, and when you take the tip in and hollow your cheeks out, her ass fully lifts off the couch. 

“God, honey, you suck mommy’s cock so well,” she whimpers and it spurs you on to go further down. There’s an ache in your stomach already and you can feel your wetness on your upper thighs. 

Agatha’s hand tangles in your hair, but just rests and lets you go at your own pace. You can feel her twitch against your tongue and you suck harder. 

“Baby, god, fuck — you’re so hot, mommy loves your mouth,” Agatha rambles and she throbs when her cock hits the back of your throat and you gag, tightening around her. She’s not going to last long, you can feel her pulsing and swelling, her cock growing heavier on your tongue. You think you could cum right now if you touched yourself. 

You look up at her through your eyelashes and she groans like she’s in pain and then you pull your mouth off her, gasping for breath, while strands of spit still connect your lips to her cock. “Use me, mommy,” you say hoarsely and her hips involuntarily jump. “Fuck my mouth.” 

This time, when you take her cock again, she thrusts her cock deep into your throat over and over. The only sounds in the room are you gagging and her moaning. 

“Fuck, honey, I’m going to cum,” she pants and you nod slightly before trying to say something around her cock. But the vibrations against her feel too good and she stiffens before spurts of her cum fill your mouth. She slows her thrusts while she pumps her seed down your throat and you take it all, groaning at the somewhat salty taste. 

She pulls out, cock soft, and slumps onto the couch and you wipe a strand of cum off your lip and suck it from your finger. You shift on your knees and she tracks the motion with her eyes, smirking wickedly. 

“I always forget how hot and bothered sucking my cock gets you,” she purrs and then jerks her head to the couch. “Take your clothes off and lay down.” 

You swallow roughly and get to your feet before teasing her by slowly taking your clothes off. Her fingers dig into the couch beneath her and her limp cock twitches just a bit when you reveal that you’re wearing her favorite lingerie. She’s always been able to recover relatively quickly and your mouth waters at the thought that, soon enough, you’ll have her inside you. 

Once you’re naked, you settle on your back, one leg up over the pillows and your other foot resting on the floor, baring your dripping cunt to her. The look in her eyes is positively ravenous and she tosses the hair that’s come loose from her hair tie over her shoulder before situating herself so that she’s on her knees in front of you. 

And then she leans down and runs her tongue through your folds — which are practically fused together with how wet you are — and you keen. 

“Mommy,” you gasp, back arching. She chuckles against you and the feeling makes you moan. “I need you, please.” 

She teases you a little, her tongue circling around your clit but never quite touching it, and your hips grind up to try to get just a little more stimulation. One of her hands trails up your body to pinch your nipple right as she sucks on your clit and you’ve never made such a high-pitched sound in your life. 

Your noise drags a strangled moan from her mouth and her hips jerk. She starts to devour you, her tongue lashing against your clit and then thrusting inside you as far as she can go. Her other hand digs into your thigh, holding it open and using it for leverage just the same. 

It takes you a little bit to notice what she’s doing — her hot mouth on your pussy has made your brain go completely fuzzy — but when you pick up on her flattened out body on the couch and her ass flexing in a steady rhythm, you clench violently around her tongue. 

Agatha is grinding her cock against the couch. Eating you out for three minutes has gotten her so hard that she’s desperately getting any stimulation that she can. 

Her fingers continue to tug and roll your nipple and her mouth is furiously lapping at your cunt and you can feel yourself getting so close. 

“Please, mommy, Agatha, I’m —” you whine and her hand on your leg removes itself before she quickly slides two fingers into you while she rubs her tongue against your clit. Your walls bear down immediately around her and she curls them up and presses deep inside you. It makes you sob and your hips move on their own accord to chase the orgasm that is about to wash over you. 

Agatha’s thrusts against the couch are getting more and more sloppy and she’s moaning against your cunt like she’s never been more content in her life. Your breathing becomes short and shallow and tingles spread through your entire body. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna—” You can’t even finish your sentence before she sucks roughly on your clit and sends you right over the edge. Your vision goes white for a second, completely overwhelmed with pleasure as she keeps fucking you through your orgasm. She doesn’t stop, and although you have no doubt you’d be able to cum again in no time at all, it’s been too long without her cock inside you. 

You tug at her hair weakly until she finally stops and looks up at you, her nose and the entire bottom half of her face absolutely coated with your wetness. Heat flares through your stomach and you almost shove her right back down between your legs. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” Agatha coos and you whimper at her sweet voice. “Do you need more? Do you need mommy’s cock?” 

When you nod eagerly, Agatha grins and crawls back up to her knees and you moan when you see her cock. It’s just as hard as it was before — maybe even harder? Is that possible? — and so red. It looks almost painful. 

She bends over you and slides her cock against your entrance, both of you letting out heavy sighs of relief. “Wait,” you choke out, and she stops. You need to feel her deeper. 

You turn over from your position on your back and get on your knees and elbows so that your ass is straight up in the air. Agatha sharply inhales and her hands cup your asscheeks before giving each one a little spank simultaneously. 

Agatha drags her cock through your folds and then circles your clit with it, the feeling of her skin against yours making you keen. 

And then she pushes into you, your mouth dropping open in a silent moan. Agatha mews once she bottoms out and holds still for a second, savoring the feeling of your walls milking her. 

She starts to move, not even giving you a chance to adjust before setting a fast pace, her hips making a sound every time they slap against your ass. She’s filling you up so good, hitting a spot so deep inside you that makes you gasp each time, and your head drops to rest on your elbows while you start to push back against her thrusts. 

Her pace stutters when you clench around her and she grabs onto your hips so tightly that your chest warms at the possibility of having bruises so you can remember just how good she fucked you. She practically slams you back and forth on her cock and there are no other thoughts in your head, no other words you can say, besides “Mommy!” 

“I know, babygirl,” she rasps. “You’re taking my cock so well — fuck, I think this pussy was made for me. You were made for mommy’s cock, weren’t you?” 

“Yes, god, yes, I was,” you pant, letting her completely use you. It’s like she’s just fucking her fleshlight and, god, that shouldn’t turn you on as much as it does. 

She spanks your ass again and the familiar feeling of your orgasm rises steadily in your stomach. You can feel Agatha’s cock throbbing inside you with each thrust, can hear her groans become less restrained as she loses composure for the second time, and you need more. 

Your hand snakes down between your body and couch to rub at your clit and your walls instantly clench around Agatha. 

“Fuck, babygirl, mommy’s about to cum,” she gasps and it only drives you closer. 

You press on your clit while her drives become short and fast, effectively knocking the wind out of you every time. “Cum inside me, mommy, want you to breed me,” you breathe and she falters for a second, a loud, guttural moan tearing from her lips, before recovering and fucking you even harder. 

“Yeah, honey, mommy’s gonna breed you,” she babbles in agreement, an urgency you usually don’t hear from her lacing her tone. When you fuck, she usually does cum inside you anyway, but there’s something about asking her to breed you that turns you on beyond words. Seems like it has a similar effect on her too. 

Tears gather in your eyes as she keeps thrusting into you and you’re not even aware that you’re cumming before your body spasms and jerks around her, and you keep frantically rubbing your clit to prolong the feeling spreading through you. 

Your pussy convulses around her and she stills, grunting lowly, and then her cock stutters a few times inside you before pulsing and you whimper at the feeling of her cum spreading through you, and fuck, you’re so full. 

Agatha stays inside you for a few moments, both of you enjoying the feeling, before pulling out. You curse under your breath when her cum oozes out of you in globs and Agatha runs and grabs a towel to clean you up. 

You swear when she rubs the towel over your pussy, she brushes against your clit on purpose, and it makes you wince. You’re already sensitive from your two explosive orgasms and you don’t know if you could take anymore. 

She helps you stand and the two of you walk up the stairs together, whispering sweet nothings and exchanging soft kisses, and then once you get to your room, Agatha turns on the shower while you sit on the edge of the tub and wait for it to warm up. 

“I think next time you leave, I should come with you no matter what so I can fuck you every night for the rest of our lives,” she jokes and you laugh. 

“Why did we even make that sex tape then?” you tease. 

Her eyebrows wiggle teasingly and she comes closer to you and tugs you off the tub. “I seem to remember you liking that quite a bit. Plus, now when I’m at work and I get bored, I can just pull out my phone and watch what a good slut you are for me.” 

Despite you being completely worn out, there’s no ignoring the heat that runs through when she says that. “God, you’re insatiable,” you say, mockingly dropping your jaw, and she chuckles before kissing your lips. 

And then she opens the door to the shower for you both to get in and sinks to her knees in front of you. You gasp. 

“You love it,” she says before licking through your swollen pussy and you have to lean back against the wall. 

Yes, you do. 

[revelboo]

Hello! Just wanted to thank you again for all your stories. Like many other people have already said, please take care of yourself. But also, I hope you're still enjoying writing these! Like it hasn't become an obligation or a source of pressure. Take all the breaks you need.

(You likely already know to do that, apologies. Just saying it because many many years ago I *didn't* know that ^^; )

No worries. That’s actually why I’d stopped writing on FFN years ago- felt obligated to answer every single request. At this point, I’m just doing this for fun. I’d missed writing silly TF stuff and you guys are challenging me to write characters I’ve never even considered

Drive Pt 5

Constructicons x Reader

• Tangled in your blankets, you curl onto your side with one of the three books that been in the things Bonecrusher and Long Haul had brought you and try to keep awake as Scavenger’s scoop sways with his steps. You’re not sure what they’re working on, only that you’d been picked up blankets, book, and all by Bonecrusher and plunked into Scavenger’s scoop. Along with three more blankets, a pillow, a bottle of water, and a box of granola bars. Can hear them softly arguing as they work, occasionally getting jostled when someone bumps your current ride and you tip your head up to stare at the stars overhead. Freedom all around you and you can’t get down without breaking your neck.

• Heading over to Hook to check the blueprints Scrapper had made for them, Scavenger can feel the warmth of you, feel every time you shift around inside his scoop and it’s a strange, but not unsettling sensation having you there even though he’d protested when Bonecrusher had just dumped you inside without asking. And it wasn’t like he could deny that you’re safer with them than alone in their habsuite. “You still good back there?” He asks walking back to gather more materials and shivering when you lay a little hand against him.

• Grabbing Scavenger’s scoop when he tries to walk past and tugging to make his brother nearly bend backwards with a strained ‘frag off, you glitch,’ Bonecrusher checks on you. Ignoring Scavenger, he rumbles when you look up at him and smile. Holding his brother still with one big hand as he struggles and swears, Bonecrusher reaches to rub a servo against your jaw and warms when you reach to touch his servo. Chasing you down had been fun, but now he just feels guilty about it. But he still gets a thrill remembering the hunt. Maybe when your ankle is healed you’d let him catch you again?

• Sitting up when Bonecrusher finally stops petting you and lets Scavenger go, you really can’t figure out their deal. The six big mechs so rough with each other, jostling and arguing. And then treating you like you’re made of glass. They’d chased you down like predators going after prey, scaring you half to death and now they’re keeping you like a favored pet. They must want something from you, right? Or maybe they just like having something to care for. Standing, you try to see out over the top edge of the scoop.

• “Don’t fall and break something else,” Hook growls when he spots your little head peeking out and he reaches up to tap you gently on the nose with a servo until you duck back down out of reach. He can still see the top of your head, though as you move around. “Stay down,” he adds tiredly. Because the rest of the Decepticons seem to have lost their minds and he’d rather you stay out of sight. Megatron’s little message to the ranks and then that stupid brawl between the commanders in the hall has him on edge. Just keeps circling in his processor. Cybertronians and humans fragging. Primus. You should be safe out here in the woods, but he’s not sure what to make of any of it.

• Sitting back down, you listen to them working. Hear them pushing trees down. Mixmaster laughing raucously at something Scrapper said that you didn’t quite catch. The sounds of metal on metal, thumps and rumbles. Hooking an arm around your pillow, you stretch out on your belly with the book. There’s not really enough moonlight to read by, so you just listen to them work. Trying to figure out why you feel so safe with them when you should be scared, trying to escape.

Previous

[raayllum]

Can you explain why Claudia is so upset with Terry when they reunite after he leaves? And why Terry, of all people, looks so guilty with her that he can't even look her in the eye? It's one of those things where you know this should all be reversed, but isn't. Why? Why is the betrayer so hostile to the betrayed?

God I loved the messy as fuck whatever they had going on Claudia and Terry dynamic in S7, and I think there's a few reasons why

One of the cruxes of Claudia's character is that she is attached to seeing herself as a good person, and others as not-good by comparison. This means that she can engage in the exact same behaviour and justify it while assuming that others' reasonings couldn't possibly measure up.

This cognitive dissonance is not exclusive to Claudia (Callum and Rayla in particular have a tendency to justify each other's choices in ways they don't with other characters, i.e. Rayla viewing dark magic use being 'evil' except when Callum is using it and he's the 'goodest' person she knows) but the focus on 'my view of myself' largely is. Most other characters in TDP are focused on "I still view this other person as a good person," not being focused on "I view myself as a good person". But Claudia is, and it's this core desire being increasingly pitted against "I will do vile, awful things to keep my family together" that are constantly duking it out.

When Claudia finds Soren and Terry waiting for her, it's clear that not only has Terry joined her brother, but has turned against her (as he could've left and then just fucked off somewhere else). This association with Soren, I think, is one of the things that gets her haunches raised, since Soren made it very clear what he thinks the last time they saw one another in 4x07:

SOREN: You have to stop trying to release the greatest evil this world has ever known. CLAUDIA: I knew you wouldn't understand.

All Claudia hears is "there's something wrong with you." That she's the bad guy and on the Wrong side (which, to be fair, Soren also calls her and Viren bad humans when trying to wake Rex Igneous in 4x09). And, by extension, that Soren is better than her. More correct, more moral, more Right.

And Claudia cannot stand feeling judged. She cannot stand being treated like 'the bad guy' (because of course from her perspective, everything she does is right) and she struggles to hold a conception of "I did something genuinely wrong and can still be a good person" (see: "We're not going to the dungeons Soren, we didn't do anything wrong") usually leaning into one or the other, and normally the latter.

So Terry being with Soren is also "you think I'm wrong, you think I'm bad, and you think you're Better than me" (vs Aaravos' "believed we could be better, so he gave us magic"). She thinks the pair are there to stop her, and she's not wrong, on a certain level.

So when Soren makes a gesture of good will, openly contingent on Terry wanting to spare her ("You're here to save me? How generous [...] I can change, and you will help me. Did I get everything?" Karim vibes), it's just seen as "you're showing off how/why you think you're Better than me" and was, quite frankly, never going to work.

Soren setting down his sword came closer, as it's more reciprocal, and it also symbolizes Soren setting down his mantle/duty (the same sword that killed Viren the first time, presumably). But Soren makes another mistake; the same mistake he made in 4x07:

Dad is dead, Claudia. You don't have to do what he wants anymore.

Set down your staff, Claudia. Dad's staff.

But while Claudia has been doing stuff for Viren, she hasn't done what he wanted in a long time. She's been doing what she wants ("You are not letting go, Dad!") for a hot second, and now alongside Aaravos. (I need to write a scene on her and Aaravos' talk in 7x06, but that's for another day.) And that has included taking down elves and dragons as a whole (and any elf that doesn't help her) for a while.

The dragons and the elves, all the arrogant fools blinded by the searing light of their own self-righteousness.

They are wrong, and she and Aaravos are right ("So much we can make right"). This is a very black-and-white viewpoint in many ways, one that some characters are faster as dismantling than others, but I have no doubt that Arc 3 will push it to its breaking point for all of them. Soren and Terry have thrown in their loyalties with the elves and dragons, since Terry was previously a "good elf Exception" alongside Aaravos because they were both helping her and, as previously discussed, Terry has now turned against her, and all the baggage Claudia carries about such a thing is now dumped onto him by proxy (which Terry doesn't necessarily know or understand).

So what does he look so guilty over?

Honestly? The illusion plan. I'm sure he's worried that Claudia might get hurt, and that things might escalate / go south, but he is ultimately there with a plan that is not what he wanted. What Terry wanted was to find the real Lissa and give Claudia a real chance to connect with her mother and maybe change her ways. But it's not real. It's deception, and he knows it.

TERRY: You lied to me! AARAVOS: I never lie. I simply said we needed a big feather and a very small feather. That is all. TERRY: No. You say you never lie, what you do is worse. You tell people half-truths and let people fill in the rest. You make people lie to themselves. It's deception. It's manipulation, and it's wrong.

She betrayed him, and now in his own way he's betraying her.

So what makes him decide to turn around and do something... similar, shall we say? There's a few things. The first is that they're on a time limit and have no way to reach Lissa. The second is that it's plausible the others were going to do it anyway, and Terry accompanied them because 1) he couldn't stop them, 2) he felt responsible, and 3) hoped that his presence would make a positive difference to Claudia.

The second is the other half of what Aaravos says to Terry, I think.

TERRY: I'll tell Claudia. AARAVOS: Oh, it will change nothing. She loves me. [...] And what of Claudia, then? She knows so much more than she tells you, and she keeps it that way to protect you.

Now, Terry rightfully understands that Claudia wasn't keep things from him to protect him; she did it to use him and to keep him from leaving ("I knew he'd leave once he found out"). However, Terry being willing to live in a half-truth and employ one on Claudia because he genuinely believes it will help her, because he thinks it's a truth he needs to withhold to protect her ("You have to promise me that no harm will come to Claudia" is most easily kept if she backs down)... that I can believe, especially since it lets him believe that she's capable of change/quitting. He wants to Save her, not use her.

That doesn't mean he thinks it won't Hurt.

[the-inkwell-variable]

author ask tag

thank you so much for the tag, @the-golden-comet! ooh this is gonna be fun!

i'm going to focus on my current wip, Why Should I Be Careful? I'm Going To Die Anyway! because it's still very much in the planning stages (despite how much I'm writing for it) and I have Thoughts

What is the main lesson of your story? Why did you choose it?

I'll be honest, I haven't really thought that far ahead. I suppose, if there is a lesson to take from WSIBC?IGTDA!, it might be that you should always chase your goals and desires, and screw what other people think. Maybe put a little more thought and planning into yours than Aura does hers, though. I mean, she almost dies due to her recklessness. Don't be like Aura.

What did you use as inspiration for your worldbuilding?

Well, it's a zombie book - I love zombies, in case you can't tell - so the world is an amalgamation of zombie stuff I love. The zombies are based off of the Train to Busan zombies. This is a self-insert mess, so I'm using the town and people I know in the town as location and characters. Little tropes here and there that I love in movies and books alike. It's just a big chimera of stuff that I grab from stuff I remember and shove into it. It definitely needs polish when it's done, but I'm having a blast so far, so I'm'a keep doing it :3

What is your MC trying to achieve, and what are you, the writer, trying to achieve with them? Do you want to inspire others, teach forgiveness, or help the reader grow as a person?

Uhhhhhh this is a tough question. Right now, Aura is trying to make it to Roger's Grocery Mart to save her girlfriend, but most of the time, she's just trying to have a good time in the zombie apocalypse and hopefully not die. She does eventually grow into a character that (mostly) thinks things through and takes other people's situations into account, so I suppose the lesson is "the world doesn't revolve around you - be kind and helpful to others"?

As for what I'm trying to achieve... mostly, to be honest, I just want people to pick up my book and have a good time reading it. I want to write a zombie book because it's my passion and because there aren't enough zombie books out there. I guess I'm trying to inspire others? To show them that you can survive an impossible situation if you work hard and think things through?

How many chapters is your story going to have?

The only time I've written a full-length book (sorry, the only two times, forgot about Zero: ALPHA), it had about twenty-odd chapters. Z:A had...uh...thirty? That was a long time ago and I sadly no longer have that draft. This one is going to go until it's done. Hopefully more than thirty though!

Is it fanfiction or original content? Where do you plan to post it?

Original content! I have no idea where I'm going to post it. I'm torn between Draft2Digital (originally Smashwords) or Substack. Thing is, I'm really bad at marketing and keywords and all that technical stuff that goes into publicizing, so I'm really hesitant to share it at all. I'm the type of person that gets absolutely morally devastated if my own self-inflicted goals aren't met, and I'm not sure if I can handle that kind of crushing heartbreak with this one lol

So yeah. Might publish, might not. Unsure right now.

When did you start writing?

My dad set up a Windows 95 computer for me in his office, his old one, and taught me the basics of using it. I was five, about to turn six. I immediately sat down and wrote a story about unicorns. I've been writing ever since.

I didn't start writing fanfiction until I was thirteen and had just binge-watched Lord of the Rings for the first time. We don't talk about those works. They were awful.

Do you have any words of encouragement for fellow writers of writeblr? What other writers do you follow?

Write it. Oh it's cringe? Who cares? Write it. Oh, it's a rare pair? Write it. You're worried people will hate it? Fuck the haters. Write it. Writing is about having fun. Writing is about pouring your soul onto the page. Writing is about getting those ideas out of your head so they don't drive you insane. It's about reaching that one person that finds your work and loves it. Even if no one reads it - you still accomplished something. You still wrote it. And no one can take that from you.

I have so many writers in my follow list. Uhh. I have no idea how many are still active, so I'm just going to tag who I know and hope for the best lol

@idyllicocean, @keeping-writing-frosty, @bloodtiesnovel, @asher-writes, @kitswrite, @theink-stainedfolk, @karkkidoeswriting, @lavender-gloom, @orphanheirs, @aquixoticwrites, @alinacapellabooks, @marlowethelibrarian, @flock-from-the-void, @dyrewrites, @storycraftcafe, @writer-imagination, @toragay-writing, @inseasofgreen, @stephtuckerauthor, @thatndginger, @finickyfelix, @eternalwritingstudent, @drchenquill, @paeliae-occasionally, @the-golden-comet, @talesofsorrowandofruin, @watermeezer, @goldfinchwrites, @winterandwords, @badscientist, @clairelsonao3, @i-can-even-burn-salad, @leahpardo-pa-potato, @mjparkerwriting, @rowanwriting, @oliolioxenfreewrites, @emelkae, @rita-rae-siller, @rebelxwriter, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @stesierra, @francineiswriting, @sunset-a-story, @chauceryfairytales, @hollyannewrites, @jaydenswaywrites, @captain-kraken, @violets-in-her-arms-writes, @romy-thewriter, @pure-solomon, @writingmaidenwarrior, @koiwrites

go, go follow them. they're all so good and make my timeline glow.

[infinialtairs]

Jade and Pey'j are always ready to fight back! Mess with one of us? You're going to have to mess with both of us! 📸🐗

Sily artwork of them hanging out! but also I have a little surprise for all jade and pey'j fans... I have finished write a full google document for Jade and Pey'j characterizations! along with backstory and trivia for my own version of designs for them ^^ Keep in mind that I'm not a writer and I won't claim as such, I simply wanted to write down my own interpretations and ideas onto them. I'll just copy down ALL 7 PAGE texts onto here so...If you don't want read any of it, feel free to skip

Captain Laserhawk: Jade and Pey’j Rewritten

! Disclaimer ! 

This takes both Beyond Good and Evil version and Captain Laserhawk version into one somewhat coherent version of them as I’m not a fan of how Jade and Pey’j were treated in the series and I simply just write my own takes on the characters and ideas of more in depth into their characters. You can disagree, or dislike my takes on them and you can also give a suggestion or your own opinion on them. I only seek to approve my skill in writing my thoughts and ideas through words.

Synopsis

Jade and Pey’j - the only remaining part of a family who are striving for a fulfilling life in a dystopian world with many deceptions easily hidden behind closed doors and TV screens. They both managed to live in a garage where Pey’j does the repairs of vehicles and as well as creating his own little projects of inventions of which he never shared them into the public eye, only to Jade.

Jade

Jade is quite a spontaneous journalist, martial artist, cyclist, and a person with so many side hobbies that she sometimes pursues, even if she’s not exactly good at a lot of them. She can be a gal friend at parties or a cry on the shoulder when someone’s in need, she's a little too empathetic at times with how she reacts with others struggles and often feel the need to always be helpful and supportive. Despite all the hobbies she has been trying out, she isn’t the best example of a patient person, she will always try to learn everything in a single day and then getting overwhelmed or frustrated when something doesn’t go her way. As a journalist she often writes articles about covers essentially what the Face of Eden Rayman talks about in his show, but with a Jade’s touch - her own perspectives and opinions. She also covers smaller topics that seem to fall deafen on people’s ears and some conspiracy theories that she may not entirely believe in, but she's a very curious person and fascinated by those out of reach theories.

She’s very close with Pey’j ever since her parents passed away in the Wasteland war when she was a teen, and with how much her parents trusted Pey’j - a boar hybrid against all odds, she knew she wouldn’t be alone in the cruel world of Eden. She often helps Pey’j with the repairs and sometimes even does the work for him whenever Pey’j gets sick or overworked. One thing she always does and loves on a daily basis is taking photos of everything she comes across as interesting, maybe mostly taking funny pictures of Pey’j in his vulnerable state. She wants to keep memories with Pey’j as she regrets never taking any photos of her parents and wishing she could remember her memories with her parents. But as long as she and Pey’j are there for each other, She’s content with the family she currently has as Pey’j adoptive uncle.

Pey’j

Pey’j is opposite of Jade in a lot of ways - he’s stubborn, grumpy and often disrespectful towards strangers. He just gets tense around people who he doesn’t know and especially his promise to Jade's parents to always look out for their daughter, it only made him more overprotective towards Jade. Beneath all of the tough and blunt manner, he’s caring and sympathetic. Pey’j will open up about his personal upcomings as a boar hybrid, his family, his hobbies, and of course bragging of Jade’s talents, he’s also the pure example of terrible but in own charming ways of humor, somewhere between dad jokes and dark comedy. Pey’j has always dreamt about becoming an inventor for Eden, inventing technologies to help those in crisis instead of relying on a government that seeks more of the loyal and control than provide support for the citizens. But alas he has a lot of difficulties and responsibilities to even begin chasing his dream, so he’s sticking with what he has been doing for decades - repairing vehicles and gadgets for cheap prices for good qualities. 

Pey’j often cooks meals and gives out supplies to the homeless people as advised by Jade, since she’s always busy and staying up late writing journals and cases and in her own words “You gotta work with your communications too, old fart!”. Pey’j hasn’t all been too interested in relationships or even had a mind crossed about “marriage” and “having his own kids” due to his own fears of not being able to offer enough on the table, Pey’j believes that he has better things to do in his own opinion. Beside doing mechanics and inventing his small projects. Pey’j is also on occasion curious with hobbies, in particular chess has been his favorite pastime, usually he plays it with Jade or sometimes his acquaintances if in a right mood. Pey’j will deny being competitive about chess but each time he loses a game of chess, he will insist for another round until he personally wins! It can take from another 30 minutes to many hours depending on his bad luck.

Backstory

Jade’s parents as any others who were previously citizens of the USA see their country turning into a dystopian country now known as “Eden”, with no longer 50 states but 5 Mega Cities divided. They weren’t thrilled or accepting of the changes, with far advanced technologies and AI intelligence. Despite it all Jade’s parents made sure that their first born child would have a good life in a very new world that they also have to navigate through together. Jade’s parents were working hard in their jobs as one unexpected day coming across a troubling boar man hybrid out in the streets, clearly in some distress Jade’s parents decided to help out the hybrid and upon learning about the boar hybrid name “Pey’j”, they weren’t sure about this so called “Pey’j” with the news uprising about “Hybrids will take care of your pesky workflow and we as Eden community are grateful for that!” but they gave the benefit of a doubt as they were the only family remaining and alone with their daughter Jade. Maybe perhaps they could use some help.

Jade’s parents and Pey’j came along very well, with Pey’j skilled talent of repairing their old equipments around the house and become quite like a uncle figure to little Jade which gave Jade’s parents a relief that they could be a family - a fullfit family that may not seem big or exciting but all it mattered that they weren’t going to leave each others behind. Jade was quite a reckless child for both Pey’j and Jade’s parents, always hyperactive and was more into sports, bugs, and many other interests all at once! But Jade studied pretty alright at minimum in school and even took an extra class of material arts, both her own choice and a skill that Jade’s parents thought Jade would incredibly need in the future. Around the time Jade entered into High school, Jade’s parents had been fired from their original jobs due to some complications and the terms of services that they didn’t agree with. They have hidden that fact from Jade and Pey’j to avoid any unnecessary stress on their family, so with desperate attempts and tired of Eden’s corporate policy, they joined the DedSec organization to protect against corrupted ways of Eden. Jade’s parents both worked as hackers in coding into TV stations over Eden before eventually the event that they all were expecting for… ”The Wasteland War” as Eden militaries sent out missiles and soldiers towards wasteland and so Jade’s parents were rushed to quickly message to Pey’j about the situation and ask for a promise to protect their daughter Jade if they weren’t making it out alive. As the news broke out about the now abandoned Wasteland all across Mega Cities, Pey’j knew that Jade’s parents sadly didn’t make it due to no contact or logs ever since that sudden text and so Pey’j made sure to take care of Jade and support her as much as he can in his garage. Jade knew that they couldn’t afford to attend any college or universities but Jade did lots of freelance commissions on photography specifically before then switching to write journals and articles of niche topics around Eden. Jade and Pey’j were living somewhat sustainable living conditions despite all odds until an unexpected interaction with unidentified individuals in the alley not far from Pey’j garage as they were trying to capture Pey’j and Jade with Pey’j fell first defeated. Jade tried her absolute best to fight back but quickly grew weak and got cornered before getting knocked out cold.

Jade and Pey’j woke up in odd white room with a wrestler trying to break a metal locked door and a cyborg still sleeping out cold on the mattress, with absolute no clue where they were or what to do before eventually a woman walked in or “Warden” as they later found and that they were all being held captured and hidden from outside of the world in Supermaxx, with needing to obey the missions at hand or else their head explodes with discovering they do indeed have bombs inside their heads. Jade and Pey’j along with the others into a group as Warden calls it “The Ghosts”, they knew the stakes they had in a sudden shift of lifestyle but currently Jade and Pey’j will work it as long as they are always sticking by their sides.

Trivia

(This is mainly trivia about my own design version of Jade and Pey’j and doesn't always match up to either Beyond Good and Evil nor Captain Laserhawk versions so keep that in mind.)

The brown jacket that Jade wears is gifted by Pey’j as a first present she ever got from her adoptive uncle. It used to be too big for her before eventually once growing up she’s constantly seen wearing that jacket.

Pey’j red eyes gadgets were invented by himself to read and analyze better as once he got older, his eyes just weren’t as good in eye sight as in his youth.

 Jade has two different styles of fingerless gloves. Her left glove is green, more geared up for cycling and her right glove is a simple black thin fingerless glove. She did have at one time both green geared up finger gloves before during once in her practice of learning to ride a bike she lost her right fingerless glove upon falling over and Pey’j gave her a replacement for a simple black fingerless glove.

Pey’j has a right cut off tusk due to one intense gang fight he had along before he met Jade or Jade’s parents. He always loves re-telling that tale and expresses his anger.

Jade and Pey’j have almost shared birthdays. Jade’s birthday is 24th of May and Pey’j - 23rd May. They do an annual special two days of sharing both of their birthdays together and as such both receive presents twice as such and make trips. Their favorite go-to place is carnival.

Jade’s camera is borrowed from one of the commissioner’s job but later was gifted by them and such Pey’j has added features into Jade’s camera to make it one of its kind including ability to zoom in and out almost infinitely, loads of filters built in and one of Jade’s favorite - a stunt that gives anyone within her range a temporary blindness, although comes with limit of usages she can do.

Pey’j’s wrench has been modified and had different looks many times to make the perfect wrench with multi-purpose as ever! Currently his wrench has been modified to weigh slightly heavier than average wrenches to carry a heavy and quick swing. Pey’j’s wrench has even functionality to act as a power source for example to use as a flashlight, to charge up equipment, without a lot of storage of power. He’s still in development for that perk.

Funny story. When Jade was 16, she asked, begged even Pey'j for earrings for “that cool rad look to show off!” Jade’s own quotes. Pey’j reluctantly agreed but he was at first adamant about putting the earrings himself and so he tried to do his first practice to his own ears. It didn’t go well as planned with him having two permanent little holes in his ears and he eventually agreed to let Jade go to the professional. Jade still make jokes about it to these days, not of one Pey’j’s proudest moments.

Jade’s hairstyles had so many iterations before she settled in her now iconic bottom shaved pixie cut. She has only let her hair grow once when she was around 8, Jade's parents weren’t looking carefully and Jade was messing with lighter and managed to burn half of her hair. To say Jade’s parents were mortified and angry would be an understatement. Jade later had to shave her whole hair for six months.

Pey’j boots are actually jet boots that he modified way more recently than his wrench, allowing him to float a few centimeters into the air - before then falling down, but this comes in handy for combat for ground pounding!

If you have read all of this...holy shit that's insane of you and I really appreciate that you took your time about two characters that I just wanted to give more love for them... ^^' Feel free to write your feedback, suggestion, idea or even mistakes if I have made any about it! Like I said before I want to improve on writing down ideas and thoughts into words more coherent and clear in the future.

Thank you for reading once again! 🫶

[hivemuthur]

What was that? - Ch. 9.

viktorxfemale!OFC explicit!

friends to lovers, co-workers, sexual tension up to the wazoo, pinning and banter that got me frustrated when I was writing it, attempt at humour, some angst and a slow burn with a happy ending and a classic Viktor for once

Ch.1. | Ch.2. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.6. | Ch.7. | Ch.8. | Ch.10. | Ch.11. | Ch.12. | Ch.13. | Ch.14. | Ch.15.

word count: 4,6K

tag: #what was that

author’s note: My dear people, who actually read this, I salute to your patience. Without much spoilers, @rennethen, who is my lovely beta reader and at this point a lovely friend as well, has co-written a crucial part of this chapter, which must be one of my favourite love scenes. Enjoy!

Cross-posted on AO3

—

“So,” Jayce began, leaning against a nearby table with a raised eyebrow. “Are you going to tell me what happened after the party, or do I have to pry it out of you?”

Viktor didn’t look up from his work. “There is nothing to tell,” he said evenly, though the faintest twitch of his jaw betrayed him.

“Really? Because from what I saw, Renly looked ready to melt into you by the time you left,” Jayce said, not bothering to hide his grin. “And don’t even try denying it. I saw the two of you. Did you walk her home?”

Viktor exhaled sharply, setting his pen down. “No, she didn’t want me to. I don’t think I exactly met her expectations that night,” he added wearily.

Jayce frowned, his grin fading as he studied Viktor's expression. “Her expectations? Viktor, what are you talking about? I am worked up from the tension between you two, and from where I’m standing, it looks like she’s tired of the games.”

Viktor's lips tightened into a thin line as he rubbed his temple. “Perhaps,” he murmured. “But it is not so simple. I cannot—” He cut himself off, searching for the right words. “Renly… deserves someone whole. Someone who can give her what she needs, without limitations or complications.”

Jayce groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “Oh, for the love of Gods, Viktor, not this again. You’re doing that thing where you convince yourself that you’re the problem before anyone else has even said a word about it. Do you honestly think Renly cares about your so-called ‘limitations’?”

Viktor’s gaze hardened. “It is not a matter of what she cares about now, Jayce. It is a matter of what she will care about, eventually. People always say such things at the beginning. They make promises they cannot keep because they do not yet understand the full reality.”

Jayce crossed his arms and stared at Viktor incredulously. “You really think Renly’s like that? That she’s just going to up and decide one day that you’re not enough for her? Have you even given her the chance to prove you wrong?”

Viktor’s jaw clenched. “I am giving her the chance, Jayce. By not allowing this… whatever it is to escalate into something we both regret.”

Jayce shook his head, letting out a low chuckle that was equal parts frustration and disbelief. “You’re unbelievable, you know that? You’re so damn smart, but when it comes to feelings, you’re a complete idiot. News flash, Viktor: the world isn’t going to wait for you to feel ready. And neither is Renly.”

Viktor didn’t respond immediately, his eyes fixed on the blueprints before him, though his focus was clearly elsewhere. The weight of Jayce’s words hung in the air, pressing down on him like a tangible force.

Finally, he spoke, his voice quieter but no less resolute. “I am not like you, Jayce. I cannot afford to be careless with matters of the heart. Not when there is so much at stake. If this were to fail…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “It would break me.”

Jayce softened, his frustration giving way to something more understanding. He stepped closer, placing a hand on Viktor’s shoulder. “Look, I get it. You’re scared. But don’t you think that’s kind of the point? If it wasn’t terrifying, it wouldn’t be worth it. You don’t have to have everything figured out right now, but you do have to try. Otherwise, you’re just going to push her away—and I promise you, Viktor, that’s going to hurt a hell of a lot more than taking the risk.”

Viktor finally looked up, meeting Jayce’s gaze. There was conflict in his eyes, a battle between the walls he had spent years building and the growing crack Renly had managed to carve into them.

“I will consider your words,” he said after a long pause, his tone measured but tinged with something vulnerable. “But I make no promises.”

Jayce smiled faintly, patting Viktor on the shoulder before stepping back. “That’s all I’m asking. Just… don’t overthink it, okay? Not everything in life needs a blueprint.”

As Jayce walked away, Viktor returned to his work, though the words of his friend lingered. For all his logic and reason, he couldn’t deny the truth in what Jayce had said. And yet, the fear remained, an ever-present shadow that refused to let go.

Because Viktor knew one thing for certain: the closer he allowed himself to get to Renly, the greater the risk of losing everything he had fought so hard to protect.

***

Renly trudged up the steps to the lab, her feet dragging with a heaviness she couldn’t shake. She checked the time on her pocket watch for the third time that morning—or rather, the early afternoon—and winced. Nearly four hours late.

She’d debated whether she should come in at all, entertaining the idea of calling out sick, but even the thought of leaving Viktor alone to stew with his thoughts made her restless. It wasn’t as though she could escape him, anyway. His voice was in her head, his touch still lingering in the ghostly way that made her chest ache.

She pulled her coat tighter around her shoulders, despite the warmth of the late morning sun. The sky above Piltover was clear, but inside, her thoughts were anything but.

Renly stepped into the lab building, keeping her head low and her pace brisk. The familiar hum of machinery greeted her, but for once, it didn’t calm her nerves. Every step toward the lab’s main floor felt heavier, as if her body were actively protesting her decision to face the day.

She didn’t bother peeking in to see if Jayce or Viktor were there. If she did, there was a chance one of them might spot her, and she wasn’t ready for either of their voices—Jayce’s friendly concern or Viktor’s infuriating calmness.

Slipping past the main work area, Renly made a beeline for the tiny side room she sometimes used when she needed privacy—or an escape. The room was little more than a glorified closet with a workbench and a stool, but it was quiet, and, more importantly, it had a lock.

She shut the door behind her softly, letting out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. Setting her bag down on the bench, she leaned against the wall and closed her eyes.

She wasn’t ready for this. Not for Viktor, not for Jayce, not for anything.

Despite the promise of a weekend to recharge, she’d spent most of it replaying Friday night in her head. The way Viktor’s voice had softened when he said, “I don’t have an answer, Renly.” The way her heart had dropped at his hesitation. And, worst of all, the way she’d turned away from him, leaving them both in that miserable, unspoken limbo.

She rubbed her temples, trying to push the memory aside, but it clung stubbornly.

“I should’ve just stayed home,” she muttered to herself, kicking off her boots and curling up on the stool. The bench in front of her was scattered with leftover components from her last experiment—a half-finished mess she didn’t have the energy to clean up.

She stared at it for a moment, willing herself to start something, anything to keep her mind off Viktor. But her hands stayed still, too heavy to lift.

Her mind raced as she picked apart the weekend in her head. Maybe she shouldn’t have been so direct. Maybe she shouldn’t have cornered him. Maybe… maybe he was right, and this wasn’t something she should push.

But another part of her, the part that refused to let go of the way Viktor’s heartbeat had sounded beneath her cheek, wasn’t ready to give up.

The sound of muffled voices outside the room made her stiffen. She recognized Jayce’s booming laugh first, then Viktor’s measured reply. She couldn’t make out the words, but the low timbre of Viktor’s voice sent a fresh wave of frustration rolling through her. She decided to bury herself in work once again.

She had no idea how much time had passed. She also didn’t really know what she was doing, aside from aimlessly fiddling with the properties of the formula. That was, until something went wrong and one of her vials exploded without warning.

She snapped. Letting out a frustrated snarl, she shouted, “I fucking hate viscosity!”—forgetting entirely that she’d meant to stay quiet.

The sound echoed sharply in the confined room, and before the realization of what she’d just done could sink in, she heard a soft knock at the door.

“Ugh… come in,” she groaned, her voice heavy with resignation as the door opened with a faint creak.

“Renly.”

Her movements froze mid-motion, halfway through wiping the mess off her desk. She didn’t turn around. “What is it, Viktor?”

Her voice was flat, her tone clipped. The sharpness of it stung more than he cared to admit, but he pressed on, leaning heavily on his cane as he entered the room.

“Did you mean to be distant?” His voice was quiet but weary, laced with an edge of vulnerability. He hadn’t heard her come in earlier. And he definitely hadn’t expected her—of all people—to hide.

She let out a sharp, humourless laugh, finally turning to face him. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

He flinched at her words but held his ground. “I deserve that,” he admitted, his throat tightening. “But I…” He paused, struggling to find the right words. “I want to talk.”

Her arms folded across her chest, a defensive shield he longed to break through. “About what? How things are better if they’re left unchanged? I don’t think I have the strength for that today. I’ve learned my lesson.”

“That is not—” He stopped himself, frustration flaring in his chest. Exhaling slowly, he gripped his cane tighter. “That is not what I think.”

“Really?” she shot back, her gaze sharp and unrelenting. “Because you were pretty blunt about it last time.”

His knuckles whitened on the cane. “I never wanted to hurt you,” he said, his voice thick with regret. “I spoke with Jayce,” he added wearily, searching her face for any cracks in her guarded expression.

“Did he tell you what an idiot you are, so I don’t have to?” she muttered, turning away to sweep shards of glass from the workbench.

Viktor stepped forward, calculating whether he should touch her hand, guide her to face him. Instead, he walked up to the desk and stood beside her, placing his palm close to hers.

He hesitated, his breath catching. “I am weak around you,” he said, his voice small, barely a whisper.

Renly froze, though she didn’t move away. Their shoulders brushed lightly. Viktor gathered his courage and ghosted his fingers over hers, the faintest touch. “From the moment I understood the weakness of my flesh, it disgusted me. And I have projected that disgust onto others—onto you.”

Her brow furrowed, her lips parting in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“I’ve spent my life fighting to overcome my limitations,” he said, his voice low but steady. “My body has been nothing but a reminder of fragility, of failure. I hate it. And I... I feared you might one day hate it too.” He looked at her then, his amber eyes raw with vulnerability. “So I pushed you away. I thought it was mercy.”

Renly’s arms fell to her sides, her expression softening as the weight of his confession settled between them. “Mercy?” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Viktor, this is torture. It’s inhumane. It’s… it’s—”

His lips twitched into a faint, rueful smile. “Yes,” he said. “I am aware.”

She took a shaky breath, a laugh escaping despite herself. “You wasted so much time. So much pain—for nothing.”

“Not nothing,” he said softly. “For you.”

Her chest tightened, and she turned to him, her hands trembling. “Viktor,” she began, her voice barely audible. “You’re wrong. About your body, about what you think I see.”

He blinked, his breath hitching as she closed the distance between them.

“I don’t see failure,” she said, her words firm even as her voice quivered. “I see someone who fights every day, who inspires, who... who has my heart, whether he wants it or not.”

His cane clattered to the floor as his hand reached for her face, his fingers brushing her cheek as though he couldn’t quite believe she was real. “Renly,” he murmured, her name a prayer on his lips. “You undo me. Entirely. Completely,” he whispered, his hands already wrapping around her. “I am at my limit. I surrender to you—if you will have me.”

His lips brushed against hers as he spoke. Hers remained still, tentative, as though she hadn’t yet caught up to the reality of what was unfolding.

Without waiting for her reply, Viktor’s hand slid beneath her shirt, his touch seeking the warmth of her skin. His other hand rested gently on the side of her neck, keeping her face close, their noses brushing in an intimate collision. He kissed her deeply, longingly, wrapping all of himself around her, as if to shield her from the world.

Renly’s fingers finally tangled in his hair, her touch hesitant yet possessive, grounding herself in the moment. His hands moved with quiet confidence, slipping around her waist and pulling her firmly against him. The intensity of his hold sent a shiver racing through her, a wordless plea not to let go. Their kiss became a delicate dance—a push and pull, her lips pressing forward, his retreating, both testing the fragile boundary between longing and surrender.

The taste of him was unexpected—warm, intoxicating, layered with a quiet intensity that mirrored the man himself. The faint scent of parchment and oil clung to him, grounding her even as the rest of the world blurred around them. His fingers pressed into her back, firm yet gentle, a reminder that here, in this moment, she was his focus, his anchor, his everything.

When they finally broke apart, it was only by the smallest fraction, breathing each other in. Renly’s chest heaved, as if she had surfaced from deep water, her lips tingling from the lingering warmth of his. Viktor’s gaze burned with molten intensity, his pupils wide as he studied her face, as though committing every detail to memory. His voice, when he spoke, was soft and reverent. “I waited for this… far too long.”

They stayed like that, holding each other in the quiet, the lab around them forgotten. For the first time, they were not scientists, not colleagues—just two people who, after so much fear and hesitation, had finally found their way to each other.

“Viktor,” Renly broke the silence hesitantly, her voice trembling just enough to betray her nerves. “I don’t mean to be blunt or pushy, but…” Her cheeks burned impossibly hotter, and she forced herself to continue. “I might… implode sometime soon if you don’t—” Her words caught in her throat. Fuck me.

Viktor laughed, the sound catching her off guard. She blinked, startled, realizing with a jolt that this might have been the first time she’d seen him smile like this—teeth and all. “Here?” he asked, his disbelief tinged with amusement.

Renly dropped her head in embarrassment, but Viktor gently caught her chin, tilting her face back up to meet his gaze. “No,” he murmured, his voice soft but sure. “I want to do this…” His lips brushed her cheek in a feather-light kiss. “…Properly.”

His next words were a whisper against her mouth, just before another delicate kiss. “Your place, or mine?” he asked, his hands cradling her neck, long fingers meeting at the base of her skull in a way that made her shiver.

“Mine… no. Yours,” Renly corrected herself quickly, her face flushing anew as the image of her cluttered apartment flashed through her mind.

Viktor chuckled again, the sound warm and disarming. “Are you worried I will, trip over something at yours?”

“Something like that…” she replied, attempting to match his teasing tone. But beneath her words, she dreaded the possibility of Viktor being confronted with the chaos she had let her apartment fall into over the past two days.

They walked together in silence, hand in hand, their steps slow and deliberate. Thankfully, their apartments were close, nestled within the academy’s nearby residential area.

Renly’s pulse thundered in her fingertips, and it didn’t take long for Viktor to notice.

“Are you nervous? Or… excited?” he teased, his tone low but playful.

“Um… both?” she admitted, though the truth was far less composed. She was scared out of her mind. And for the life of her, she couldn’t fathom Viktor’s calm, steady demeanour. It was as though, once he’d decided, nothing could shake his resolve.

She glanced up at him, studying his profile in the dim light. For a fleeting moment, she saw him as he must have been once—a fearless boy from the Undercity, driven and unshakable.

“Ladies first.” Viktor gave a slight bow, his hand gesturing toward the open door of his apartment.

Renly stepped inside, her eyes flickering over the space as she fought to steady her nerves. His apartment was modest, neatly kept, but with a distinct personality. Books were stacked in uneven towers, some with notes and diagrams spilling from their pages like secrets waiting to be discovered.

She opened her mouth, ready to tease him about being more of a hoarder than she’d expected, but before the words could form, Viktor’s arms were around her. In a swift, fluid motion, he twisted her toward him, claiming her lips with a greediness that sent her heart racing.

She barely registered the feel of the wall against her back as his hands roamed her body, their touch unhurried yet decisive. One hand slid to the back of her neck, his fingers curling against her skin in a way that made her shiver. He was entirely in control, and for once, she let herself surrender to it.

“You have bewitched me,” he murmured softly, his voice quiet and thick with the accent. “You have pursued me longer than anyone else would.” His lips ghosted her cheeks, her eyelids, her neck, and she felt parts of herself clenching on nothing but air. Her neck still in his grasp, he guided her to look up and meet his gaze.

He could feel her hesitation, like a delicate tension in the air between them. It was familiar, yet it thrilled him all the same. He was not in a rush, though—he knew exactly how to navigate the moment, how to make her aware of the weight of his presence without overwhelming her. There was power in control, and for once, Viktor knew he would wield it with precision, just as he had in every aspect of his life. But this wasn’t about conquest—it was about trust, something she would give him only when she was ready.

“You have been pushing my buttons for months now.” Viktor stopped momentarily to study her face. She looked at him dazed, her eyelids hooded, her gaze pensive. “It’s about time you tell me…,” he whispered into hear ear and she could feel the curve of his confident smirk on her earlobe. “…Which buttons would you like me to push for you.”

Her pulse raced, but it was a strange, quiet excitement. She had never quite felt this way before, this drawn in by a person, this willing to be vulnerable. She wanted to trust him, she wanted to lean into the pull, but there was something inside her that hesitated. It wasn’t fear—it was uncertainty. She wanted to know what it would feel like to give in. Her heart seemed to beat faster with each breath, her body betraying her, melting under Viktor’s touch. She always thought him a shy lover. The realisation of how wrong she was almost made her chuckle.

As Renly collected herself enough to answer, Viktor hugged the curve of her ass with both of his hands and grazed his still clothed, half-hard cock through the spot where her thighs met, earning himself a full volume moan falling from her lips.

The last walls she had built came crumbling down. Her body felt lighter, as if the tension she hadn’t even realized she was holding had dissipated, another building up in its place. She wasn’t controlling this moment, but that felt right. Viktor’s presence was a steadying force, grounding her, guiding her through the vulnerability she’d never allowed herself to embrace before. It was terrifying and thrilling at once—this feeling of surrender.

He could feel the shift in her—how she had gone from uncertainty to openness. That realization brought him a quiet sense of satisfaction. She was trusting him with more than just her body now; she was trusting him with her mind, her heart. There was something in the way she responded to him now, the way she let herself go, that was pure. Viktor felt as if he had been granted access to something so delicate, so personal. And he knew that, with her, he could never betray that trust. His heart, usually so guarded, opened just a crack, and he let her in—just enough to feel her as she truly was: beautiful, vulnerable, and utterly his in that moment.

Viktor leaned close, his voice low but deliberate, his breath warm against her ear. “Tell me, Reynard Huxley of Zaun… what do you want from me?” The question was spoken with an unshakable calm, a kind of authority that left no room for doubt, only for her to answer truthfully.

Renly swallowed hard, her pulse hammering as she searched for the right words. There was so much she could have said—so much she wanted, but every thought tangled into a mess in her mind. Finally, she breathed, “Your voice.”

His brow arched in faint amusement as he tilted his head, waiting for her to explain.

“Your voice,” she repeated, this time a bit steadier, though the heat in her cheeks betrayed her nerves. “I love it—your accent, the way you talk. It… it gets under my skin, in a good way,” she added quickly, her fingers gripping his sleeve. “So, keep talking. I want to hear you.”

The corners of Viktor’s mouth lifted into the barest of smiles, a glint of mischief flickering in his golden eyes. “Ah,” he said softly, drawing out the sound as if savouring her admission. “So, you will leave me to do all the work tonight, then?”

She let out a nervous laugh, her head falling forward slightly until he tilted her chin up with a single finger. “No,” she murmured, though her voice faltered under his gaze. “I just… I want to hear you. All of you.”

Viktor chuckled lightly, his thumb brushing over her jaw. “All of me?” he repeated, the words deliberate, his tone playful yet commanding. “You will have to keep up, then. I am not known for being gentle when I am… inspired.”

Her heart stuttered, but she found herself nodding, her voice barely a whisper—“I’ll try.”

“No,” he said simply, his voice lowering an octave as he leaned in closer. “You will do more than try. You will let me guide you. Trust me… and listen.”

The words sent a shiver through her, and for a moment, she forgot how to breathe. There was no teasing in his tone anymore—only a quiet assurance, a certainty that somehow melted away her fears and left her entirely at his mercy.

He took her hand in his and guided her silently toward the bedroom. The room was small, slightly more cluttered compared to the rest of his quiet space. Various trinkets, tools, and souvenirs were scattered across the shelves.

Before she could ask about any of them, Renly saw Viktor propping his cane against the bed frame.

“Come here,” he said softly, beckoning her closer.

Seeing her expression remain neutral as she approached, he added, “You will tell me if anything is not to your liking, yes?”

Renly nodded, momentarily taken aback by his authority.

“I would like you to undress me,” he said firmly, steadying himself on her shoulders. “And I will do the same for you.”

This. This was Viktor was doing his magic. She knew exactly where this came from—the brace. This was his way of reforging a memory of shame into one of intimacy and pleasure.

With shaky fingers she decided the obvious place to start was the cravat. She pulled it gently through his button-down band, revealing the pool where his collar bones met. The density of his freckles increasing under the material.

She was so focused on her task that she didn’t realize her shirt was already unbuttoned until Viktor’s fingers grazed her skin—his handiwork, as always, precise and swift. She stole a glance at his face and saw it filled with awe; his eyes transfixed on her chest. “You are… astonishing.” He smiled at her, the words bringing back the memory of a compliment that had earned him mockery not long ago.

She managed to catch up, and a few moments later, she hesitated. Should the brace stay or go? Viktor caught the question on her face and answered before she could ask—“This thing too,” he murmured reassuringly. “Don’t worry, I won’t fall apart.”

They stood opposite each other, their torsos bare. At last, Renly got to trace an invisible line with her fingers, connecting all of Viktor’s freckles and beauty marks, leading down to his hip bone. She stared at him, her brows pinched together and her mouth slightly agape—he was so beautiful. Scars scattered across his ribs, where the brace had scratched his flesh, forming opalescent, delicate brush strokes of pearly white.

He pulled her closer, leaning forward to press his face against her breasts, inhaling deeply. “To think I was willing to leave this world one day without ever experiencing this,” he murmured, his voice muffled against her skin.

“Is there a poet hidden within you that I wasn’t aware of, Viktor?” she teased, desperately trying to break the tension that had overtaken her. She leaned into the joke, though the truth was, she felt overwhelmed by his reverence. It was ironic, really—their roles reversed, with her now the one under his microscope in this moment.

“Tell me if you’re uncomfortable. But…” He lifted himself gently from her chest to meet her gaze. “I certainly hope you’re not. I could study you endlessly.” His voice carried a quiet confidence, and he looked on, clearly satisfied, as a blush crept up her neck.

“Can I...?” Renly asked, glancing down at his leg.

“Oh, yes, you may,” Viktor replied. “But for that, I need to sit down. So, allow me to go first.” Not entirely sure what he meant by ‘go first,’ she let herself be guided toward the edge of the bed. Viktor sat down and then gently settled her between his legs. He placed a kiss on her belly before starting to undo the buttons on the back of her skirt. Oh. She was going to be very naked soon.

When her last piece of serious clothing formed a pool around her feet, Viktor started playing tentatively with the band of her underwear. She observed him from above, as he allowed himself a touch through the material, discovering her wetness—the effect of his thorough courtship.

“All this… for me,” he gasped, his tone breathy. Seeing her like this – flushed, aroused, all because of him, sparked an idea inside him. A new plan started to formulate. He pulled her into his lap. If she could, she would have hesitated, but Viktor’s grip was firmer than it seemed. Leaning into her ear, he whispered, “I would like you to take a seat,” pointing to his lips. “Here.”

Renly’s eyes widened, a quiet protest flickering within them. Her breath hitched as she remembered Viktor’s words—how he had expected her to speak up if anything felt wrong. After a moment of hesitation, she nodded instead.

“I will tap your thigh if I need to take a breath,” he murmured into her ear in a low, steady voice, balancing on the verge of the tone he used when explaining something in the lab. “And, most importantly,” a gentle squeeze of her thigh followed, “you will not abandon your seat until you come into my mouth, understood?” he finally commanded, more than asked. All she could manage was a quiet ‘yes.’

Viktor lay down on his back and guided Renly to hover above his face, her hands grasping the headboard behind him. A smirk curved his lips, when he instructed her to lower her hips, but she felt unsure about pressing all her weight onto him. Seeing her hesitation, he wrapped his arms around her thighs in a strong grip, his hands kneading the flesh of her hips, as he yanked her down to press her core to his face. His eyes flickered to hers from beyond the curve of her cunt, as he reassured her in a husky voice, “I promise I won’t break.”

He stroked the line of her with a long teasing lick, gently parting her with his tongue. Viktor could feel Renly shiver above him at the teasing sensation spreading itself through her body. She spotted his whisky eyes watching her hungrily, as his nose brushed itself gently against her clit, dragging a half-gasp half-moan, a weak attempt at mumbling out his name.  

“Did you like that?” His chuckle reverberated within her core and seeing no response coming, Viktor teased her again and again, until she granted him with a shaky ‘yes.’ He smiled against her skin and placed his tongue where his nose hovered a second ago, switching between small kitten licks and splaying his tongue flat against her in long drags, searching for what made her body tremble the most.

Feeling her slick drip down his chin, his ears filled with the sounds of her imminent release, he placed his mouth back at her entrance and ground his face against her clit, his own groans making her body jerk and twist.

He was eating her like a man starved. Feeling her walls clench around his tongue, he searched for a spot that made her toes curl, causing her hand to fall from the headboard into his locks as she pulled his face closer, her body bowed in pleasure over him.

He picked up his pace, fuelled by his name falling from her lips like a mantra, when her walls broke, her pleasure crashing over her. Viktor tightened his grip over her thighs, his arms holding her close as she rode her orgasm on the vibrations of her own name coming from his throat in muffled moans.

When he felt her body cooling, he slid her down to straddle his lap, lifted himself up, and kissed her longingly, stroking her back. “Did you enjoy it?”

“Viktor, I…,” she tried to formulate a sentence but could only rest her forehead against his. “I don’t think I’ve ever… I… I…,” she stuttered, causing Viktor to genuinely laugh for the first time she could recall.

“Have I achieved the impossible? Are you at a loss for words, my dear scholar?” he asked, a smile still painted on his face.

“You have no idea,” she replied, leaving a dozen feather-light kisses on his face. “Can we take your trousers off now?” she asked, having recollected herself from the post-climax haze.

“Certainly. But wasn’t it your task tonight?” She caught him smirking again. Soon, they were both equally naked. Renly kissed the scares on his knee as she removed his leg brace. He winced slightly but decided to let her do it, since she let him probe through all of her defences tonight. Viktor finally got to trace the line of her tattoo with his fingers, sending shivers down her spine.

He shifted on the bed, bringing her from kneeling at his legs back to straddling his lap. His fingers ghosted over the plane of her face, briefly cradling it with his hand before moving down her neck and her chest. Gently cupping her breast with one hand, he brought the other to do the same. His palms gave them a gentle squeeze before Viktor leaned forward and latched his mouth onto one of her nipples, the other not forgotten as he delicately stroked it with his thumb.

Renly gasped at the sudden attention, her hands finding purchase in his hair to steady herself against him. He switched between her breasts, to give each the same amount of his careful attention, taking note in how she reacted and continuing the same gestures that caused her to writhe against him.

He gave her sensitive skin a gentle nip, causing Renly to moan in pleasure, before one of his hands travelled down her torso to reach her cunt. The free palm went to cup her face again, bringing her into a heated, passionate kiss. His tongue played against her mouth, coaxing her to open and she met him in the middle of a tug war game between their lips.

Viktor’s fingers spread her cunt gently to reveal all the slick she gathered for him, his thumb giving her clit a slow, experimental rub. Renly gasped against his lips at the sudden touch, and he repeated the motion in response. She rested her head in the crook of his neck, pressing a lingering kiss there, as he explored the pressure and speed she desired. It wasn’t long before he had her panting and grinding herself on his hand, a hot pressure building up in her lower belly.

As she was edging toward another release, Viktor cupped her cunt and pushed one finger inside, releasing a whine from her lips at the change of touch. She was a panting, flushed mess on his lap, Viktor’s finger fucking her slowly. He kept adding one when he felt her loosen, flexing her walls by scissoring his fingers apart and grinding the heel of his palm against her clit. He retreated his hand once he was happy with his ministrations and licked his fingers clean, making sure her eyes were fixed on him. “You are simply divine,” he whispered as Renly pulled him into a sloppy kiss, tasting herself in his mouth.

Her palms drifted down his abdomen, trailing along the freckles spattered on his skin. She slid her palm flat down his lower belly to grasp his cock and give him a long, languid stroke. her forehead resting against his. Viktor shuddered at the attention to his length—he was long with a gentle curve to it, something he was rather insecure about previously, but now found himself adoring the way her hands explored him.

She gently rubbed her thumb on the tip, spreading the leak of pre-cum to add some slide to her strokes. She studied which movements made him gasp, watched him as his composure began to faulter and his head fell back against the bed. “Fuck,” he mouthed a voiceless curse, making her lips curl into a smile. Finally, she brought him carefully to her entrance, coating him in her slick. His hands found her hips as he steadily guided her down onto him, pausing to let her adjust. By the time she had him hilted they both gasped tentatively at the sensation, as if it were too much.

Viktor pulled her torso flush against his, holding her tenderly as he rolled his hips in the first experimental thrust, gauging on how she was taking him. His mouth fell open against hers, their breaths mingling together with a sound full of yearning. Renly ground her pelvis against his until they found a rhythm that was inching them both toward completion.

“Fuck, Renly,” Viktor’s voice strained as he was chasing his pleasure, fucking her with everything he had. Each thrust deep, earning him small gasps falling from her lips. For Viktor, it was a quiet kind of undoing, a descent into something both utterly foreign and achingly familiar. Every touch, every breath, felt like it stripped away the layers of armour he’d spent a lifetime constructing. His world, so often dominated by calculations and control, was suddenly governed by sensation—her warmth, her quiet moans, the way her hands clung to him like she feared the moment would slip through her fingers.

It was humbling, almost terrifying, to be so seen. And yet, it wasn’t the frailty of his body or the imperfections he had so long despised that held her gaze. It was him. The way she looked at him—as if he were something precious, something more than the sum of his flaws—shook him to his core.

Her trust was staggering, her surrender an offering he scarcely felt he deserved. But the way she responded to him, the way her body moved with his, left no room for doubt or hesitation. Here, there was no weakness, no failure—only a shared rhythm, a harmony he hadn’t known was possible.

And in that moment, as he let himself drown in her, Viktor felt something unexpected: not power, but peace. A rare and fleeting quiet in the chaos of his mind, a fragile stillness born of connection rather than control. She had given it to him freely, and in return, he gave her everything he had left to offer.

[urauntiefaye]

I really appreciate you metioning neurodivergent readers in the daddy kink maki post. could you go more into detail with maki x autistic!reader? I find it hard in the kpop/jpop space to find people who even bring up being autistic, let alone write about it.

Maki x Autistic!Reader 🌸

WC: 1008 

TW: Talks of Autism, Autistic!Reader, Gender Neutral reader, Neurodivergent reader, Autism is a spectrum and it’s not the same for everybody so if you experience it differently than this that’s okay! Let me know if I forgot anything!

A/N: It’s never a problem! As someone who is neurodivergent I also find it hard to find anything jpop/kpop related things in regards to the neurodivergent space. Or honestly just anything to do with mental health, I personally love writing where the reader is neurodivergent or has other mental disorders like Bipolar, BPD, Major Depressive Disorder, literally ANYTHING like that because it kind of heals me a little if that makes any sense. But shout out to my bestie for helping me with this, even though a lot of my symptoms add up with Autism I have not been diagnosed with it (I have ADHD even though my doc wants to get me tested for Autism) And my bestie has been diagnosed with Autism so they helped me a lot with writing this. I hope you do enjoy this and if you see any errors hit me up! I’m always looking forward to educating myself on things like this. 

Maki is a very attentive person, he notices a lot of small things and is very considerate of others. Now I did say that Maki would be the perfect boyfriend to have for someone who is neurodivergent. But not in the sense that he knows exactly what to do right away. Mostly because that’s honestly unrealistic, even if he knows about Autism. He doesn’t know exactly what having Autism is for you since it’s a spectrum and everyone with Autism experiences it differently.

What I mean by this is that he will take the time to learn and try to understand you to the best of his abilities. Even though he doesn’t know what it’s like, he still goes out of his way to educate himself and ask his partner questions about it.  But he will struggle and might in the best of terms I can think of is “fails”(not the best word I know) in the beginning. For example: Maki is a very physically affectionate person, it’s one of his major love languages(got this from when Maki was crying because Harua didn’t like physical contact with him and he thought Harua didn’t like him at first). But sometimes his partner might get overstimulated or just in a mood where they just can’t stand physical contact at the moment. It’s not that they don’t love him, it’s just in that moment being touched literally irritates the fuck out of them or they just simply don’t want to be touched. At first he wouldn’t understand that, and would keep trying to maybe hold their hand or hug them. 

But because of the stimulation of it they may lash out because of it. If they do he wouldn’t get it and might get insecure about it, but once they explain to him why his negative emotions would fly out the window. He would then move on from that moment and ask them if it’s okay to touch them, sometimes he still does without asking but he at least makes an effort to make sure their not getting overstimulated by it. Another thing is loud noises or just too much noise. It’s no secret that Maki is a very loud individual, especially when he’s with his friends and members. Now even though his partner can be loud too, and bursts of moments of talking a lot. It’s usually only when they’re completely comfortable. But if they start getting overstimulated and the noises are getting too much he would try to find a way to help them. Like taking them to a quieter place, or giving them his headphones to help dial the noises down. He would try to pick up on the signs for when they’re starting to get overstimulated too. He’s always attentive to his partner and will learn the signs very quickly. He also learned fast not to mess with them when they’re stimming. At first he thought they were just anxious but learned that it was a way to regulate their emotions or help the overstimulation. 

When it comes to tone he always helps his partner, like if they take something literally or just didn’t pick up on the tone of someone's voice he will essentially take time to explain it to his partner. And he doesn’t get tired of it either, because he understands that they sometimes take everything literally or have a hard time reading people's expressions and moods. Doesn’t mind that his partner is considered “blunt” either, he actually prefers it. He hates when people sugarcoat things, and acts fake. That’s why he prefers to have a partner who speaks their mind even if it does come off rude sometimes, he gets that his partner isn’t trying to be rude. 

When it comes to food he’s super understanding about it, like if they can’t eat certain foods because of the texture he won’t make them eat it. If he’s trying something new and it’s in a flavor or texture they don’t like he will tell them so they don’t eat it. 

USES TONE TAGS WHEN TEXTING OMG, the start of the relationship when it came to texting it always led to misunderstanding which led to fights. So when he found out about tone tags he was on that shit and it’s become a habit for him now that he even uses it when he’s texting other people. He actually finds this just super helpful and thinks people should use them more often.

Is a huge supporter of his partners hyperfixations too! He will sit there and watch all episodes of his partner's favorite show. And will let them go on for hours telling him about this cool thing, even if it is just info dumping about the topic. Always shows interest in it too, whenever he sees an object in correlation to their hyper fixation in the store he buys it immediately. He honestly just loves and can’t get enough of the way his partner just feels so comfortable to talk about it and how they literally just sparkle up about it too. 

When his partner goes nonverbal he does get really concerned over it, but finds a way to communicate with them in alternative ways. Gets extra protective over them when they do go nonverbal, doesn’t force them to talk and doesn’t get angry. If someone says anything to them about it he will stand up and say something. 

Stays on their schedule, he understands that they like to have things a certain way and if it’s not they get pretty upset. Which is fine! He’ll work on it with them, but still works to make sure they have a set structure. 

Gets sad when his partner feels like they have to mask who they are just because society doesn’t deem them “acceptable”. Gets frustrated because things are only designed for neurotypicals. But he feels loved, and happy when his partner doesn’t mask around them because that means that they’re comfortable enough and trust him to not feel like they have too. 

[xxplastic-cubexx]

what is your favorite thing about charles and your favorite thing about erik? separately, as in what you like most about their characters :]

a devious question this one is, my friend!!! it's hard enough for me to explain my thoughts cohesively, but having to pick ONE thing i particularly love is difficult. with characters like charles and erik, theres been so much done with their characters over the decades and so they have so many components to them that make them so interesting and fun to observe. BUT I TRY FOR YOU TODAY. under the cut i kinda ramble and the size of this text box makin me anxious

i think if i were to be simple and broad, what i enjoy most about charles is his determination to help others, even if he isn't really thanked and/or if people don't even like him. ofc, this isn't to say he hasn't done wrong- to be honest, the fact he does wrong/questionable things at times is another aspect of him i really enjoy, maybe because- broadly speaking- he's meant to be altruistic (intent vs outcome and all that). i don't know if that's super exciting to most people, but it is for me

as for erik, my reason for liking him is easier to explain tbh. To Be Simple And Broad, his progression from villain to antihero over the decades has been fun to observe (as much as i have so far anyhow) and analyze. i think to be a bit more specific, him using his rage and pain as justifications for his villainous actions is definitely what compels me the most: hurt people hurt and the sort, an idea i've always found interesting (something something vicious cycles and the like). yet now, he recognizes this wasn't really. A Just Thing To Do and is beginning to change that, which i enjoy

[mantisgodsdomain]

We ought to write more Pokemon fic some time. We want to recreate the Pokemon Manners/Human Manners cheat sheet that we made a few years ago we think that this site would like the Sliding Scale Of Politeness When Greeting A New Pokemon You've Never Met Before.

[icewindandboringhorror]

Recent game related things .. hrmm...

[rosicheeks]

i do not know if i ever sent this to you. i have posted it. i hope you like it Princess.

[tvrningout-a]

i should've switched to writing original stuff ages ago bc i could've been overcoming writer's block if i did :' )

[malachitezmeyka]

Idk why I thought the new year would suddenly bring immense change to me as a person, it was such a childish belief, I can’t believe I let myself fall for it. The years go by but I remain the messed up anxious wreck who starts crying the second she’s left alone with her thoughts. The new year won’t change anything, nothing will

[medicinemane]

The world is set on prescriptivism and... it doesn't jive with me

[inkskinned]

it's because the bear wouldn't kill me just for being a woman. the bear doesn't kill me for fun. the bear can be shouted at, and will leave me alone. the bear won't make a tiktok complaining about how i crossed to the other side of the path when i saw him coming. if a bear kills me, it's just being a bear: it cannot understand logic. it is not acting out of malice - just fear or hunger.

bell hooks once wrote about how porches might be the only outside space left for women - it is still the domain of the house while it is also outside-but-safe. when i am in the woods, i am in the bear's home, and he has a right to defend his property. outside spaces - anywhere at night, certain parks in the day - those are often implicitly "owned" by men. i cannot explain the feeling of knowing when you have entered a man's "territory." you walk into a place and just know you are in their space. you get a sick sense - you're in danger.

the other day a group of about 8 men were fooling around in the woods while i walked my dog. i had to go around, take the extra 3 miles just to avoid them. it's okay, i like walking. this wasn't even a #feminism moment. it was just a tuesday.

what a plain and easy question. only one of the situations is seen as a tragic accident. i would rather die and have a park bench erected in my honor rather than have my family questioned about why they let me, an adult, walk in the woods in the first place when i should really be at home in the kitchen.

i worked in retail and food service. i have had women say and do absolutely heinous and abusive things to me - not because i was a woman, but because i was there, and they were angry. the way men treated me when angry was different - it was because i was a woman. you can always feel the difference, how there's an undertone of i'd hurt you worse if i could get away with it. i keep seeing people try to cite stupid statistics. why is there always a strange rage whenever women agree on things? like men can argue their way out of our lived experiences? it isn't a buzzfeed quiz - which of these traumas are you? 10 super cute ways not to fear strange men.

i have actually (thrice!) seen a bear in the wild, by the way. i died each time, obviously, and am a ghost writing to you. (it was scary but completely and utterly fine). the second encounter was a black bear with her cub. she looked at me like - do we have to do this or are we good? my dog was busy sniffing a bush, completely nonreactive. i felt like i was in a sitcom: feminist poet reacts - does she actually mean she'd choose the bear? my only thought was - she's so beautiful. her paws are massive.

and there's a part of me that feels the rage spinning out in a corner. why do we have to come up with quippy little comments in order to teach men empathy. would you rather die in a car accident or due to a mugging? and would you rather your house burn down due to an electrical fire or due to arson? gee willikers - it's almost like we're human people, and want to risk the accident versus the intention.

i would rather my last thought be oh shit, a bear rather than i'm a person too. why doesn't that matter? why don't you care?

[nezuscribe]

you’re glad to have a friend like arranged!gojo, it feels good to have somebody to talk to and listen to. you feel nice being able to laugh with somebody and not apologize for the awful jokes or strange things you say. but sometimes you have to stop yourself from getting attached, reminding yourself that he won’t care for you like that.

and though that’s the farthest from the truth, it’s what you’ve convinced yourself. so when your birthday comes around, you decide to celebrate the way you always have, alone.

he’s your friend, not a husband, so you don’t see any need in dragging him into this ordeal.

you bake a little cake for yourself a couple day in advance, just like you used to at your old home. you stash it away for when night rolls around and it’s just yourself, you can enjoy it the way you have for years.

when you were little you would gawk and stare at the lavish parties your father and his wife threw for your sisters, the balls and the presents growing bigger and bigger the more they grew up. you’d mimic their behaviors on your own, dressing up in the best dress you had (a hand me downs from your older sister that never fit quite right) and pretended you too were surrounded by a room of people as they watched you eat cake.

and sure, when you were younger you’d feel embarrassed eating by yourself surrounded by drawings of people you’d prop up on chairs, but it’s become tradition now (not the drawings, you realize now how depressing that must’ve looked).

so the night of your birthday you take the cake you had hidden in the back of the ice den out, bringing it to the corner of the kitchens where the cooks kept the little table for themselves and began cutting into it, cursing yourself for freezing it too long.

you serve yourself a piece, hunching over your plate as you dug in with your fork, eating in silence.

you write a little note for the cooks to enjoy the rest of it as you place it back in the den once you were done, going back to your room for the night.

the following day when you were walking around the library looking for something new you spot gojo talking to one of his advisors, his eyes focused and his tilted slightly as he gave him all of his attention.

you pause, holding back until you were sure they were done with their conversation to reveal yourself from behind one of the looming bookshelves, watching as the advisor bowed his head to you before he left.

the crease between his eyebrows relaxes, his eyes softening when you waved at him, your smile gleaming.

“i didn’t see you for breakfast,” he tells you as he walks over to where you were standing, pushing some of his hair back as you grin apologetically.

“i slept in,” you admit sheepishly, tired from last night as you play with your fingers, “i also might’ve been a little snippy with alina when she tried to wake me up.”

gojo snorts, absentmindedly pulling some books out and putting them back in as he rests his side on the wall of binded pages.

“baking?” he asks simply, knowing you well enough to know that the only reason you’d miss breakfast would be because you spent the majority of the night in the kitchens.

“how’d you know?” you tease, crossing your arms over your chest as he tsks, his fingers picking some stray leaves from your head from earlier when you were walking through the gardens.

“i help whisk the butter and sugar when you don’t feel like it. i don’t know why you keep me out of the kitchens,” he murmurs petulantly and you chuckle a little bit, rolling your eyes at his antics.

“it’s for your own sake,” you tell him, a glimmer in your eyes that he’d chase around the world the see, “and besides, i wasn’t baking. i was enjoying the fruits of my previous labor.”

gojo squints a little bit, confused. usually you eat what you make the night of, sometimes bringing a plate by his room if it’s not too late.

“when else did you bake this week without me?” he asks, trying to mask his hurt with a playful grin, trying to recall the times he heard back from one of his guards that you were down in the kitchens.

“only a few days ago, when i trying to assemble the cake.” you say with a shrug. his mouth opens in shock, a pout on his lips as he averts your gaze.

“you had cake? without me?” he almost whines it out and you shove his boot with the point of your shoe, trying to calm him down.

who would’ve thought the most fearsome warrior of the north, hell, the entire kingdom, would have such a sweet-tooth?

“it was small,” you try to reason, “and you wouldn’t have liked the flavors. it’s a recipe from the west.”

gojo groans, stepping closer to you as he gently flick your nose, watching the way you’d scrunch it up in annoyance.

“but you know i love cake,” he murmurs, “and you said you’d only bake it for birthdays…you lied to me,” his pink lips pull into a pout, one that you want to kiss off his gorgeous face, and control yourself from letting the heat get too much in your cheeks.

“well,” you quirk a brow, “if it helps, it was for a birthday.”

gojo looks up from the ground, brows furrowed once again in confusion.

“mine?” he says a little hopefully, as if it was anywhere near his birthday.

you snort, shaking your head as your finger pokes itself in your chest.

“mine…you idiot,” you mutter under your breath, wondering how somebody how his caliber could be so daft.

but he doesn’t seem to find it funny, in fact, his brows seem to meet in the middle, the pout gone form his lips as he frowns.

“what do you mean yours? your birthday isn’t for…? isn’t it in…?” he tries to think, think back to when your birthday was, only to realize he didn’t know, to realize he’d never asked you about it, always assuming it’d be something told to him.

“it’s nothing big,” you try to say quickly to cover up the awkwardness, “i usually just make myself a cake and get it over with.” you say with a chuckle but he’s not finding anything about this humorous.

great, you think bitterly to yourself, said something else and fucked it up. you wince, wishing you’d just stayed quite.

“your birthday was yesterday?” gojo asks, his voice hushed and heavy. he looks like he cares, he looks sad. you find it unnerving.

“i,” you laugh uncomfortably, fidgeting with your ring as you swallow thickly, “i think so...? i eyeball the day every year.”

truth be told you done really know what day you were born. your father never remembered the exact date seeing how the nature of his relationship with your mother was so secretive, and nobody ever found the true date out. so usually you find a date each year that you think matches with what time season you were born with and go with that.

gojo feels like his heart has slowed, watching the way you shrink into yourself the way he notices you’d i when you feel like you’ve done something wrong.

“eyeball?” he bites out and you wince at his tone, and he wishes he could take it back and start over again without the bite of a general in his words.

“look gojo it’s nothing, really,” you insist, waving him off as you try to escape, shifting around so you were closer to the doorway, “it’s just a day, it’s nothing important,” you tell him reassuringly.

but he doesn’t believe you, running a hand down his face as he pinches at the bridge of your nose.

“why do you write these things off as if they’re not important?” his voice is deep, echoing around the walls of the vast library as your hold your breath, “why don’t you-”

“because it’s not important,” you say again, your voice a little bit harsher, “it’s just a day.”

his eyes drown in blue, dark and wavering like the shoreline.

“then why bake a cake?” he snaps, not in anger but in genuine questioning, and your face falls a little.

maybe because years ago you thought it was something important. maybe because you want that little girl to feel like she matters.

he gapes, knowing he said something wrong, but can’t speak.

“i…” you open your mouth then close it again, looking away from him as you shrug, “i have to go, i - um, shoko asked for me.” you lie lamely, not caring as you bow your head down slightly to him before you briskly leave.

and maybe if you turned back you could see the way his face fell too.

but with all the maybes you’ve told yourself no to, you’ve grown accustomed to the belief that every maybe wouldn’t have a chance of becoming something.

because maybe if you had actually told him the truth when you wanted to a couple days ago, that you’d like to celebrate with him, he wouldn’t shut you down the way you’d imagined he would and maybe he would’ve said yes.

but for now you convince yourself that this man is a friend who pretends like he cares. because never once have you heard of a man caring so deeply for somebody that he’d shed a tear over the fact that you’d celebrate your birthday alone. but then again, you’ve never met a man like gojo before.