#The writing is on the fucking wall people

[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. 

[a-rumbly-in-my-tumbly]

Let's get out of the mindset that breeds its use, too. This idea that everyone has the "right" to everything, right now, this very second. That you're better than someone who, pah, creates. You want your thing! Not to pay or wait for it, you just want something Enough Like the Thing that it will please you for that moment of want that COULD have been just as served by going back to art. But it's not ~new~? So fucking what. If you want ~new~ you make or you wait. Plonking words into a plagiarism assisted probability machine is the opposite of new, keep that in mind. It's just guessing what you'll probably want to hear based on what it's already heard. You want some random boomer who heard the name of your thing to write for you? Not even your mom because they (in theory) love you? No? Then what the fuck are you using an LLM for. You're essentially saying "I was bored so I went out and bought the first thing I saw. I don't really care what it is, but it was an Object I am vaguely interested in and it was displayed at the front of the store/it was the last one so it must be good because other people are buying it too". Is that making anything? No. It's mindless consumerism and it's not uwu what's wrong with it it's my comfort rp uwu. You could do LITERALLY ANYTHING ELSE with your resources and time and it would be better. Even if it's staring at the fucking WALL. At least the wall gives your brain a rest. Rereads. Rewatches. Let your little blorbo rotate in your head like a microwave until he ding dongs something or someone else just for you. Don't sell yourself short.

GET. AI. OUT. OF. FANDOM. Stop making headcanons with it, stop making fanfic with it, stop making fanart with it. If I see one more "asking chatgpt *blank* about *character/characters in a fandom* I'm going to lose my goddamn mind. Use your own fucking brain, stop asking AI to do everything. You could even ask other real people what they think. Just. Stop. Using. AI. In. Creative. Spaces.

[jihoonjuseyo]

Perverted jihoon hacking readers computer so he can see what she is doing in her room just to see her jerking off to him.... Then might end it with him fucking her in her bedsheets the very same night

~💩

a/n: this isn’t something i usually write ;u; i really tried to make him a pervert but i have a hard time writing real people with these kinds of character traits. i hope you understand ♡

cw: smut, toys, spying, dubcon if you squint, computer hacking to watch reader masturbate, oh yeah masturbation, lmk if i missed anything

requests open!

when you told jihoon that you’ve been told that you make noises when you sleep, he half-believed it to start. he wasn’t a stranger to having his ear pressed to the wall that separates your bedrooms. he recognized quickly that those weren’t just measly noises from sleep, no soft hums from your slumber - no, those were *moans* he was hearing.

it woke an obsession within him, standing next to the wall for minutes after you’ve gone to bed, hoping and praying that he’d hear the soft buzz he’d learn to listen for, his hand already moving down to his waistband.

it woke an obsession within him, standing next to the wall for minutes after he knows you’ve gone to bed, hoping and praying that he’d hear the soft buzz he’d learn to listen for, his hand already moving down to his waistband. he’d seen the vibrator once. on accident, as he was so innocently helping you organize your drawers one day while you were gone. he certainly didn’t smear his own cum on it just to see it before washing it off, oh no.

jihoon’s obsession continued to grow as he patiently waited for your soft moans in the night, his mind filling with increasingly more debaucherous thoughts of you. one night, as he stood with his ear pressed against the wall, he heard the familiar buzz he was waiting for, the soft gasp of your initial tease to your core.

a thrill ran through his body as he pressed even closer to the wall, his excitement growing as he listened to the soft moans coming from the other side.

he pictured you in your room, those little shorts you wore (the ones he saw riding up your ass countless times throughout the afternoon), pulled to the side with your fingers teasing your entrance. he loved the idea of that purple toy shoved inside of you, your walls encasing it so tightly. but your fingers, god he pictured them everywhere on his body-

he closed his eyes as he stroked his cock, a shaky breath coming out as jihoon pictured himself in front of the bed, eyes level with your cunt as you teased yourself.

that’s when his brain went a different direction, and he physically felt his length harden at the idea. your computer, so perfectly situated in the front of your bed. jihoon knew that computer had the best spot in the world, it made him envious.

jihoon's mind continued to spin as he listened to your soft moans through the wall. as the room on the other side of the wall fell silent, he quietly stepped away from the wall, his mind still filled with thoughts of you. it was like a magnet pulling him back to the wall, but he resisted.

he walked over to his own desk, his hands shaky as he turned on his computer. he knew that he had to see the view that your computer was enjoying. it was so unfair, the way he knows your legs are spread out for the computer to see.

sitting down at his desk, jihoon quickly launched the hacking program he had been developing for the past few months. with a few commands, he was in your system, giving him access to your webcam and the contents on it.

he navigated to your webcam and clicked to open the live feed, his heart racing in anticipation. he'd been fantasizing about this moment for weeks, hoping he would be able to get a glimpse of your most intimate moments before you fall asleep.

as the camera launched, jihoon’s breath hitched as your bedroom came into view. there you were, laid out on your bed, wearing those same shorts that had been driving him crazy all day.

only, those shorts were pulled to your ankles,

“jihoon-“ your voice hitched, making jihoon’s hand, that had been pumping his cock so slickly, stuttered, his hips jerking slightly. he felt his face flush, his instincts kicking in almost immediately. he had to grip the chair as he considered, barging in on a private moment or making her fantasies a reality?

jihoon's mind raced as he watched you on the other end of the camera, his body reacting to every little sound you made. he knew that spying on you was wrong, but he couldn't help himself now. he wanted you so badly that he could taste it.

his mind was swirling with all the ways he wanted to taste you, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as his eyes focused on the way you were writhing on the bed. He couldn't believe the situation he found himself in, watching you so intimately without you even knowing.

“fuck it,” he hissed, pushing himself out of the chair and standing up, pushing his cock back into his pants for the moment.

jihoon's heart was pounding in his chest as he quickly got up and left his bedroom, his mind racing with thoughts of what he was about to do. he approached your door, his hand shaking slightly as he reached out to turn the knob.

jihoon hesitated for a moment before turning the doorknob and slowly opening the door, his breath caught in his throat as he stepped inside. the room was dimly lit by the light from the desk, the computer screen casting an eerie glow on your body as you lay in bed.

his eyes drank in the sight of you, laid out before him like a gift. he closed the door behind him, the soft click of the latch sounding like a gunshot in his ears.

unfortunately for him, you’d heard it too. you shot up with a gasp, hands coming out while simultaneously trying to cover your lower half with your legs. “d-don’t you know h-h-ho-aaa..!” jihoon felt himself get chocked up, knowing that you were attempting to hide the fact that a vibrator was lodged tightly in your pussy.

jihoon's eyes widened as he took in the sight of you, his gaze going straight to where your hands were trying to hide the vibrator. His heart raced in his chest as he tried to form a coherent thought.

he took a step forward, his mind going back to the sight on the camera. he hadn't been able to see that in the dimly lit room, nor had he been prepared for the way it would feel to see it in person.

“I-I…” he tried to speak, but the words got caught in his throat as his body responded to the view in front of him. he took another step forward, bringing him within a few feet of the bed.

jihoon's eyes roamed over your body, taking in every part of you. the sight of your chest heaving with each labored breath was almost too much for him, the urge to touch you growing stronger with each moment.

“I don’t-“ he started, his voice low and rough. he took another step forward, bringing him right next to the bed. he knelt down on the edge, his hands shaking slightly as he reached out to touch you. you jerked back slightly, your breath heavy as you watched jihoon intensely, confused but curious.

his eyes, ever so dark and focused, stared at the exposed part of your leg before trailing his hand up your thigh, pushing the blanket up as well as you almost fought him. “hey-“ you began, but he shushed you, not even having the respect to look at you before he tossed the blanket over your hip, wasting no time in prying your legs open and half-leaping onto the bed to ensure a place between your legs. “fuck- fuck-“ he didn’t know where to look first, your thighs were spread out and held by his strong arms, encasing your thighs between his forearms and biceps.

yet, his mesmerized eyes didn’t even flinch as you barely thrashed, more confused on the situation. “jihoon, wha— ah—.?!” you hissed when you felt the vibrator push further into your core, glancing down at him in shock. his lips were pressed to the flat end, applying pressure to the toy as it penetrated and rotated inside of you.

you pulled yourself to your knees, expression one of bliss and shock. his eyes shifted from your clit, up towards your face. “are you going to behave?” he asked.

you found no fight within you, feeling your legs give up as well. jihoon felt them relax as he set them on his shoulders. his hand moving to grasp the toy. his mouth found freedom, yet immediately hitched up to attack your clit, his tongue flattening it with his saliva aiding your juices in soaking you. with gentle movements, you felt the pull and stretch of the toy in a way you never have before, stomach feeling twitchy as a new type of pleasure settled within you.

“does that feel good?” jihoon asked, clicking the button on the vibrator to speed it up and watch you curl just slightly from the suddenness.

“so good,” you whimpered, both hands coming down to thread through his hair. “so fucking— oh, god,” you purred, hips lifting just slightly to give a slow grind to his lips when he delivered a particularly sweet suckle to your numb.

“i have a lot to make up for,” jihoon said mostly to himself, his free hand coming to smear the spit all over your clit in a messy fashion.

you didn’t question the statement, too focused on the way your eyes practically rolled back. whatever he meant, you prayed it meant that you wouldn’t be leaving the bed any time soon.

[oh-no-its-bird]

Alright chat it's time to think ab the valentines prompts !!!! I am thinking. I am having thoughts.

Love at First Bite

Vampire au OR Kakashi resisting his hashtag Hatake instincts to bite people he loves (??)

Or . Kakashi keeps biting people, so specifically to get him to stop, Sakumo lies and says in Hatake culture, biting someone is like a proposal. And if they bite back ur married now. And you wouldn't want to get married, now would u Kakashi? And Kakashi is like "oh no but I already bit Obito, what does that mean D:" and Sakumo is like "Well, I guess that means u proposed. That's so embaressing for u which is why u shouldn't do it again."

Then Obito bites Kakashi in a fight and Kakashi screams in horror bc they have to get MARRIED NOW !!!!!!!!

Otome Game / Affectionate Meter

(Aka Tobirama's personal hell)

Romance sim no jutsu fic where Tobirama wakes up to find otome game mechanics (affection meter and dialogue options) have been added to his life. He despairs.

Thisd just be the romance sim no jutsu au I talked about a while ago tbh

Incubi / Succubus

Incubus Kakashi who's super low key about it. He actually isn't really into sex but bc he can feed off ambient sexual energy, he basically just snacks on the energy radiating off of icha icha all day and is... okish.

Or like. He's not even a fr incubus but the Hatake bloodline limit is actually smthn comparable to that. So he uses it as an example of what it's like.

Obito finds out and loses his fucking mind bc KAKASHI SEX DEMON REAL????? He becomes convinced that he's obsessed w Kakashi bc Kakashi worked his freaky incubus magic on him. Also this means it's suddenly ok for him to be super horny ab Kakashi but he swears it's ONLY bc hes a sex demon, ok?????? He literally can't control it u guys this isn't on him. It's not. He swears.

Meanwhile, Kakashi: *literally just standing there, the only visible skin his hands toes and like a third of his face*

My heart is in your hand (literally)

Regina Mills type beat where person A has person B's heart and can use it to command them. Thinking either mdtb or iztb, but obkk could make for an interesting one just bc of Obito's heart seals.

Festival of love

Senju fuck fest. That's it. That's the fic. The Senju have a festival and the main event is an orgy. The fic itself is just the Madara and Izuna reaction to this terrible, terrible knowledge. The Uchiha are way more conservative and legit horrified at this information. Unfortunately they also JUST signed the peace treaty and village plans so they are now burdened w the knowledge that the annual senju orgy WILL be happening within village walls.

There's no actual smut its pure reaction and implication

U guys get to choose which one you wanna see as a one shot, choose wisely pls

[i-fucked-your-milkshake]

The notes and tags here are filled with so much joy. I hope y’all keep doing this and spreading it forever. People need to see it. People need to see your queer joy and trans joy and gaming joy and writing joy and art joy and your I-made-it-out-of-bed-today joy and they need to see the fucking neat rock you found every tiny smidge of joy compounds into an impenetrable wall of fucking joy that will protect and soothe us as we gear up for whatever the fuck this baka future has in store for us we cannot fight for our future if we do not know our joys keep the chain going you’re all awesome I love you all.

Guys, gals, genderless beings of divine origin, share your fuckin joys. You’re gonna feel weird about it because of The Horrors but it’s important I’m actually so fucking serious right now. Wear your joy like armor against the onslaught of bullshit. Don’t let them take that from you, they don’t deserve it. They need you sapped of joy and the joie de vivre that’s makes you so fucking incredible and loveable and amazing. They need you utterly hopeless. A hopeless and joyless soul is a compliant soul. Your joy is an act of rebellion. Read your fuckin books, listen to your fuckin music, watch your fuckin shows, play your fuckin games, write your fuckin stores, learn a new synth, figure out how to skip rocks, get a used camera, learn something new….AND FUCKING TELL ME ABOUT IT. I AM COMPLETELY SERIOUS. I WANT TO HEAR ABOUT YOUR JOY. I WANT TO SEE THE IMAGE THAT BRINGS YOU HOPE. I WANT TO HEAR THE SONG THAT GIVES YOU LIFE. PUT IT IN MY ASKS. REBLOG THIS WITH IT. The Horrors exist but your joy is a counter attack.

[quibblyisme]

Motel

Who? Spencer x Reader

Word count: 1.7k

Summary: Spencer hires a prostitute

Warnings: Use of "mommy", prostitution, sub Spencer, Douche side character, Smut, brief mention of dilaudid

A/N: I loved writing this! Enjoy! Love you all! Also legally a short story is 1k Words... crazy that this is a short story lol

It wasn't like Spencer to go to a prostitute. It was against the law, he told himself. After dilaudid, though, it was hard. He needed something other than a drug, filling his veins, making him oh so numb.

He found himself back in Vegas for a case. The case was long and painful. There wasn't a single second where he wasn't thinking about dilaudid. He told the team that he was staying back for a week to stay with his mom. It was a half-truth. He did want to see his mom. The other half didn't want to get fucked by a prostitute in a motel room next to his coworkers. Walls so thin they could hear every whimper and whine he let out.

He found himself booking into a classic sketchy motel. The type with the neon sign with letters that won't light up. He got a room with a door with access to the parking lot. Outside his door was a small picnic bench. A homeless man lay on it, warming himself with cardboard. Out of pity he tucked a 20 dollar bill under his head before whispering.

"I wish I had more."

He opened his room, and inside was... well. What he expected. It was a single queen bed with messy sheets and curtains that went out of fashion in the 60s. He flopped down on the bed and immediately got a whiff of cigarettes. So messy and unwashed sheets. Spencer was too afraid of germs to sleep on that bed, so he stripped the bed and headed out to buy some cheap bedding.

A 10-minute drive from the motel was a Walmart. It was late at night but not late enough for the store to close. Spencer went straight to the bedding section and picked up some sheets and a single throw. As he headed to the cash, the beauty and hygiene section caught his eye.

He strolled the aisles, looking around the store nervously as if people would judge. He picked up some condoms and headed to the cash. He did earn some looks from the cashier. It almost ruined the mood until he walked out and noticed you.

You were arguing with a man who didn't want to use condoms.

"Cmon baby. I'm clean, I swear! I'll pay extra."

"No! That's not the deal! Fuck off!"

The man was just about to lay hands on her until Spencer walked up to you and the man. He quickly flashed his FBI ID, and the man quickly scurried. Fear flashed on your face at the sight of the FBI badge. You were behind on rent; you didn't need jail time and a fine on top of that.

He quickly tried to calm you down. He felt horrible.

"Don't worry... I-im not going to arrest you..." He stuttered.

"You aren't...?" You said shyly.

"No... are you okay?"

"Yeah, I am... I just need some business... I'm behind on rent."

"Oh, uh... well... uh..." He tried finding his words before finally spitting it out.

"I can help."

"Really?" You asked suspiciously, but also with a bit of excitement.

"Yeah... and I won't be rough or anything... I just want... I want to be a sub... i-if that's okay!"

"Thank you so much... where are we headed?" You said, now excited and the nervousness far in the back of your mind.

Spencer gestured to his car and held the door open for you. The car was old as hell. Your guess would be from the 60s. It was comfortable, though. Lots of room and fairly well kept.

Soon enough, you were at the motel. The same man was asleep next to the picnic table. He checked his wallet; he had gone to the ATM to pick up more cash. He slid another 20 under his head before realizing that wasn't secure enough. He looked around and spotted a pocket on the man's hoodie and slipped both bills under.

You and Spencer made your way into the room. The bedding was still strewn across the floor.

"Make yourself at home... I'm just gonna make the bed..."

You nodded before looking around. The room wasn't in great condition, but it was better than past clients. You peeked into the bathroom and saw his toiletries. They were nice. High-end as well. Maybe he was going to pay you generously.

"I'm done!"

You walked back into the room and saw the bed made, as well as a towel laid out.

"I tried to make one of those swans, but... it didn't end well... clearly."

"Don't worry about it." You chuckled a bit. He was pretty cute.

"Well, first. Payment"

"Oh! Right! Of course!" Before you could say the price or time, he was handing you some bills. Way more than you were thinking of asking for.

"Th-"

"I know it's more, but... I don't know... I want to. Take it"

"Thank you..."

"So... what do we do now?" He bounced on the heels of his feet.

"Well... how would you like to start? We can go slow or fast."

"Slow... please."

You made your way towards him, carefully cupping his cheeks. You waited for a confirmation that you could kiss him. A slight nod told you that you could. The kiss was soft and gentle. He had surprisingly soft lips, and his breath smelled of coffee.

You pushed your tongue past the barriers of his lips to get to the treasure. A small whine left Spencer's lips as he started picking up the pace, eagerly shoving his tongue down his throat.

You pushed him till the back of his knees hit the footboard. You gently lowered him onto the bed, making the mattress creak slightly.

"C-can I take your shirt off?" He said in a near whisper, as if afraid of rejection.

"Of course."

With shaky hands he lifted your shirt off and placed it next to him on the bed. Underneath you had a nice black lace bra. It was simple but extremely enticing. Spencer was quick to cup your tit, giving it a light squeeze. Soon enough he was reaching to unbuckle it. He struggled to get it off, sighing before looking up at you, as if to say, "Can you do it for me?".

You pulled the bra off your arms to reveal your tits. Spencer's eyes were fixated on them. He reached a hand out, and they felt softer than they looked. He ran a hand over your nipple, watching it pebble under the touch. Soon enough he leaned forward and started kissing and sucking on it, leaving hickeys in the wake. You let him explore your body, running his hands up and down your sides.

In the meantime, you pulled his shirt over his head, throwing it carelessly on the floor. You ran a hand down his stomach, noting the lack of abs. Soon Spencer wanted more. His hand reached lower and lower until it reached your pants. You moved, you lay next to him, and you pulled them off, along with your soaking wet panties. You were too horny to wait.

Spencer reached out to circle your clit. He ran his fingers down your slit, collecting the wetness before bringing it to his mouth, savouring the taste with a moan. After that Spencer looked a little lost, like he wanted to do something but held back.

"Um... can I. Can I eat you out?"

You nodded eagerly. Kicking your bare legs over his shoulder. He dipped his head down and started with little kitten licks. Once he got comfortable, he started long stripes up your slit. He experimented with different patterns. Zig zags, licking the clit, licking your pussy lips.

Your legs began to shake, and you let out louder and louder moans, trying to grind onto his tongue to get yourself off. Soon enough you felt the pressure release, just like a dam. Liquid flowed out of you. Spencer caught all of it, lapping it up. This was a nice shift from the usual clients. Normally they'd pound into you then leave, but Spencer actually made you come.

Spencer seemed too shy to ask for you to pleasure him, but you got the hint. You moved onto your knees and pushed him so he was lying against the headboard.

"Mommy, please..."

You were a bit shocked at the nickname, but if that's what he wanted, then that's what you gave.

"Lift your hips."

You pulled down his pants and noticed his underwear. They were patterned with dinosaurs; you couldn't help but laugh at it.

"W-why are you laughing?" Spencer said, paranoid

"Your underwear... they're dinosaurs."

"And...?" Spencer didn't really get that most men just had black or blue underwear.

"Nothing... sorry."

You traced over a triceratops pattern on his boxers. It was right where he wanted you to touch, but it was far too light; it was teasing to him. He let out a mix of a moan and a whine at the contact.

"Please! Mommy, stop teasing!"

You finally pull down his boxers, revealing his whole body. His hard cock sprung up. The tip was pink and leaking precum. There were distinct veins running from the base to the head. It was larger than expected, but it was gorgeous.

"Do you want me to suck you off or fuck you?" You say, a bit hesitantly. He wasn't your normal client, so you were new to this dynamic.

"Fuc- fuck me, please!" He clutched the bedsheets as more precum bubbled out the tip.

You grabbed him from the base, lining yourself up. Before you sunk down, you rolled on a condom that was lying next to you. You ran the tip through your slick folds before finally sinking down. He stretched you out deliciously.

You raised your hips up before sinking down. Spencer let out a loud moan that the neighbours definitely heard. As you kept going, wet sounds filled the room along with Spencer's whines and moans, as well as your heavy breathing. You reached your hands up to fondle your own tits. Squeezing and massaging. You rolled your tongue in your mouth and in between your lips.

"Nggh... so good!" Spencer moaned.He started bucking his hips up, desperate for his release. You dropped down on him faster and harder, just waiting for him to shoot his load into the condom.

"Clo- clos- I'm so close!"

"Mommy, I'm cumming!" He loosened his tight grip on your hips and relaxed his whole body. You collapsed on top of him, trying to catch your breath. Spencer's hair was all messed up. It was sweaty and covering his eyes. His cheeks were red and glowing. Somehow it was the most attractive thing you've seen.

How did you let yourself fall for a client?

[laseracronym]

hi hi!! I loved your nsfw alphabet for aizawa sm! I was wondering if you’d do one for shouto todoroki ?

Thank you! I'm glad you liked it, and of course, I'd be happy to :)

(Just a heads up, I kind of always write with a chubby fem!Reader in mind)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He's very attentive afterwards, checking in on you making sure you're alright and if you enjoyed yourself. He's a little scared of hurting you, so he needs some time to fuss over you to reassure himself. Spends a lot of time staring at you, a bunch of warm and fuzzy thoughts in his head about how much he loves you, how beautiful you are.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He's pretty neutral on his own body, but he values the strength his body has and the ability to use that strength to protect the people around him.

He admires the softness of your body, the comforting plushness as he puts his arms around you, the cute squish of your cheek when he pokes it. He likes your hands, and how eagerly and lovingly they reach for him and touch him.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He likes to see his cum painting your skin, something about it just sits right with him. He's always just a little disappointed to wipe it off after.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He's obsessed with the scent of you, be it your body's natural scent or the products you use. A couple of times when you had to be apart, he tried using your shampoo or wearing your perfume on his wrist and was disappointed when it wasn't the same.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Shouto has no experience by the time you're together, but he's a quick learner and very communicative, wanting to know if what he's doing feels good and it never hurts his ego if you give him direction or ask him to do something different. He's a little shy at first when you try to give him pleasure in any way, but he quickly wants more, so much more.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He likes fucking you against a wall, the pleasant press of his body against yours, the way you wrap yourself around him and hold on tight, the feel of your weight in his arms. It's so easy to lose himself in you like this, his mind soothed in a pleasant haze of pleasure.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He can be unintentionally goofy, that's just Shouto's nature. Sometimes he'll say something abrupt or out of left field and it'll surprise a laugh out of you, but he doesn't feel embarrassed and he's loves the sound of your laughter.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He doesn't trim, but he doesn't have a lot of body hair to begin with. His hair color is split all the way down, and though you sort of expected that to be the case, it still catches you off guard that first time.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He's so sweet during. He always tells you how much he loves you and how good you look and feel. It's only a fraction of the soft thoughts that run through his head. He likes to catch your eye and cradle your face in his hand, he'll press your foreheads together or lean in to breathe in your addicting scent.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Sometimes he likes to swipe an item of your clothing and masturbate while taking in your lingering scent, thinking back to the way you looked when you were wearing the item. He makes sure to return the items to you clean and you don't even notice they're gone half the time.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Praise kink, Shouto likes to be told he's doing well, that he's making you feel good. Call him a good boy and he'll be a total mess.

He's got a bit of a possessive streak in him, but he's hesitant to indulge in it. He likes the sight of his cum on you, and if you let him, he'll leave hesitant little marks on your skin, the softest of love bites, he'll grow a bit bolder with encouragement.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

As long as there's enough privacy, he's not very picky about the location. He'll even steal you away at his agency if you're up for it. He doesn't necessarily want to be intruded upon while you're having sex, but there are times where he'll lead you somewhere private or you'll both emerge from some locked room or hidden nook and it's obvious to everyone that you're going to have/just had sex and it feeds that little possessive corner of his brain.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Telling him things like "I need you" will really get him fired up (hopefully not literally). Making it clear that he's the one that turns you on, that makes you feel good, that only he can get you off like this is like a drug, he'll do anything for that feeling.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He doesn't want to hurt or degrade you, even if it's something you want, it makes him feel awful. He also doesn't want to be degraded.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He's kind of clumsy when it comes to giving, he's much better with his fingers, but if it's something you really enjoy he'll do his best to be good at it. He likes receiving, though is a bit hesitant to request it, but there's always an excited glint to his eye when you offer.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He starts off at a slow, set pace, but eventually this sense of desperation sets in and it's like he can't help himself. You can always tell he's holding a bit back, though, he could be faster, more rough, but it's held back by a fear of hurting you. It'll take patience and encouragement for him to truly let go.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He's a fan. Sometimes it's just so hard for him to keep his hands off of you. He's often the one to initiate.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He's game to experiment with you so long as they don't push his hard boundaries. He often gets curious about wanting to try different things in the bedroom, often asking you about something you haven't tried yet and if you'd like to try. He's not very experienced when you first get together, and he's learning a lot about himself as well as you.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He's got quite a bit of stamina, sometimes it feels like the longer you go, the more energized he becomes.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He likes using toys on you and buying you new ones if you express an interest in them. He'll just randomly show you something he found while online shopping like "should I get this for you?" You'll quickly accumulate too many of them if you don't stop him.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He doesn't really understand how to tease, but he can unintentionally. You'll be out and about with him and his hand will find the small of your back and he'll murmur in your ear "I just want to get home so I can be back inside you" and then walk off and like, Shouto please, there's still several more errands to take care of and now you have to go the rest of the day with that rattling around in your brain.

On the flip side, it's quite fun to tease him. He's so cute when he's needy.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Heavy panting and murmured words. Likes to check in on you and ask permission before he does anything. Tells you how good you feel, starts pleading and rambling under his breath as he gets closer to climax. "So good, so good, (Name)...I can't-please, I-"

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He goes to Midoriya and Bakugou and some of his other friends for sex advice when he feels he needs it, and he's very open about it. It is incredibly awkward.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He's slightly above average in length with a nice girth to him. He's tall and a little on the lean side, though still muscular. Broad shoulders that taper into a tight waist and a nice ass. Broad shoulders and strong arms. Shouto really looks like a model, a sculptor's dream.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Pretty high. Once he had that first taste of you, he can't get enough of you. He's going to wear you out.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He takes a while to fall asleep after sex. He spends time just watching over you, even for a while after you fall asleep, he's still staring at you, watching the rise and fall of your chest, studying your features. He never gets tired of looking at you, of being with you like this.

(Hope you enjoyed, anon!

Feel free to send in requests for headcanons, drabbles, or NSFW and SFW alphabets!)

[presidentsdaughter]

note/tags - suicide but not jimmy.. just his mom, slight gore mention, some smut?, dry humping, jimmy is like early 20s in this.. start to a fic i couldn’t bother to finish, bad writing..

Jimmy’s mom is all over the walls. It’s like someone has set off a fucking party popper. She didn’t even have the decency to get him a banner.

Welcome home Jim! Congrats on getting bailed out! I knew you could do it!

Not even that. Not a single slice of cake. Not even a candle or a party hat or a gift box or a fucking hug. Whatever people get on their birthdays.

Jimmy stands there, jaw tight, unblinking as he looks over the mess she has made of herself, the house, and his life. She’s smoked all her cigs, drained every bottle, snorted anything fine enough to suck up through a straw, and he knows Mom, she’d never leave a needle behind. So the only thing she leaves in his name is this mess and this awful smell.

He toes at what is left of her, her legs bent awkwardly at the knee like a mistreated Barbie doll. Her face is this gaping hole that looks something like her bloody cunt the day she pushed him out. For a second he wishes that it would open up like the maw of a beast and swallow him whole, take him back to where he came from, and then he goes back to feeling nothing much.

It’s no biggie. Jimmy never liked her much. She liked Curly more than she liked him, but everyone likes Curly more than him. He’s a sole-crushed peach splattered on the sidewalk, picking up grit and dirt, and Curly is a fucking prized watermelon or a silver spoon, a real nice spoon, the fancy kind you only get out for guests—He’d come and use his polished edge to scoop Jimmy right up, shape him into something nice, clean him off and serve him for dessert.

Curly bailed him out. He drove Jimmy home in his nice new car, it smelt good and had his initials on the number plate. He did this all because he needs Jimmy to feel good. So he can go and tell anyone that’ll listen about his piss-poor junkie best friend. How he put him back on his feet. Curly is modern day fucking Christ and Jimmy is a crippled leper.

By his mother’s open hand is his father’s handgun. She’s named Mia after the chick in Pulp Fiction. Jimmy picks her up, gives her a once over, and tucks her in his back pocket for a rainy day. He goes to take a piss because he’s been busting for one ever since Curly picked him up, but the throbbing urgency numbed when he saw his fragments of mom’s skull dotting the carpet like milk teeth.

Jimmy takes his piss and then he notices mom didn’t even leave a single sheet of toilet paper behind. He shakes himself dry, returns to the couch where she lays limp, thinks of blowing off her tits and then decides she isn’t worth another bullet. Jimmy turns the gun to himself. He wonders if mom put it to the right side of her head or the left. Probably in her stupid whore mouth. She would let anyone in there.

“You’re joining the party, huh?” You’re standing in the doorway of his trailer, lukewarm and unsmiling, snapping your gum like this is no big deal. You’ve always been that way. Unaffected. Jimmy pulls the trigger and Mia jams. She’s an old girl. He forgives her. He just wanted to see you cry.

Jimmy doesn’t really think you would cry, but he likes the thought of it. You would look so fucking ugly when you cry.

“I found her earlier, heard the shot and came to check.” You’re wearing short shorts so short the inside of your pockets hang out past the cuffs. “But I thought it’d be a nice surprise.”

“Fuck you,” Jimmy says, arm dangling by his side. Mia clatters to the ground when his fingers lose grip.

“That’s not very nice,” you tell him evenly, sidestepping clumps of clotted blood to get to him.

Jimmy flops down beside his mom’s faceless body. She talked too much so the silence is kind of nice. He spreads his legs and you drape yourself over him, pressing your tits to his chest and sucking his tongue into your warm mouth.

“I didn’t forget your present.” You’re rolling your hips into his, the old couch creaks with the weight of all two and a half of you. His mom topples sideways onto his shoulder and Jimmy shoves her dead weight back the other way. Blood smears the arm of his shirt where she fell, but he can’t find it in himself to care.

“Oh, yeah?” Jimmy bites your neck, he feels the pulse of your hot cunt through those tiny shorts.

“Course I didn’t, saved the date and everything.”

He half expects you to dig into your bra and pull out a baggie of something, but you just offer him a half smile, giving a sideways glance to the stinking corpse.

[booigi-boi]

How my video chat with the Tin Can Bros went 🐐💛

I got to talk to the three of them separately with a special guest (James and Mariah) so I'll put this into three sections (writing this down mostly for my awful memory, gonna be long)

Brian and James

First thing Brian said when the call started was "have you gotten any new tattoos since the last time we saw you?" A: No :(

He and James asked about Finland and what it is like

I was asked something about what is my fav thing about Finland (minus sauna) and I said the nature. I told them to visit northern Finland both during summer and winter cause the nature is fucking amazing, ok? They googled it and James said he's putting it on his list, lol

Brian asked while googling if I've ever been to the Snow Castle in Kemi, and I laughed a little and said I was actually born there so yeah, I've been there multiple times

I was also asked if there's something I'd like the rest of the world to know about Finland

I answered how I hate how other countries have turned saunas into a luxury item, when in Finland literally every house and apartment building has a sauna. Also told them the correct way to pronounce sauna

James asked me how I learned about TCB. Said I discovered SK in mid 2018 and somehow figured TCB was also a thing. He also asked how I got into Shipwrecked, and to that I just said Spies Are Forever. Brian nodded and said "they're cool"

(Honestly, I'm leaving so much out cause we really just talked about my country and how happy it is, lol)

Corey and Mariah

Brian and James left for another call once Corey and Mariah joined (I didn't expect them to do this call like this tbh /neutral)

Mariah was excited about the fact I'm Finnish, she was enjoying meeting people all over the world

Corey asked if I had any questions for them and I had to admit I suck at asking questions and never know what to say (he was cool with my child brain)

Mariah said she had so many questions she would have liked to ask me. She really liked looking at the wall behind me and seeing all the shit I have on there

Then my cat decided she wanted attention and hopped on the table and made herself known to them. Told them she was Lotta and she's 14

After a while Corey asked me what my fav project from the Tinlightenment was, and I said I've been most excited for Gross Prophets. Corey revealed it's going to be difficult to rehears it without an audience and it's apparently super silly (in a good way)

Before they left Mariah asked me what was my fav movie or musical or anything so she could get to know what I'm all about, so I excitedly told her about Tetsuo the Iron Man (more about this later)

Then Joey joined all alone and it was time for Corey and Mariah to leave

Joey

Joey didn't have a guest with him so it was just me and him on a call together. He complimented my long ass vampire nails

He heard us talking about movies and asked me about it, so I said how Mariah asked me about my fav movie

He got a little excited and asked me about it, so I told him about Tetsuo, and how it's one of those movies that you're either going to love cause how artistic it is, or say wtf did I just watch

He got intrigued and googled it and read its description. He was interested (pls google it)

He read reviews and said how it's either 5 stars or 1 star, and I told him it is very 50/50

He put it on his list and promised to tell me once he had watched it :3 (hopefully not on discord cause I don't use it, lol)

Then before time was up, he asked me about my hospital stay last year (which I didn't talk about publicly and he was one of the few people that knew about it). It was kinda nice of him to ask about it and ask if I was good now (I am)

One last thing he asked about before he had to leave was if I was going to the new Starkid concert this year, and I said no, unfortunately. Maybe he was little saddened about it, but he told me last year wasn't that long ago and we might see each other again at some point

Then he wished me a good rest of the day and told me we'd see each other soon (next month when I again embarrass myself in Quiplash)

One last note, but I was kinda surprised how Joey didn't apologise to me for the 100th time for something he promised me back in 2023 and still hasn't done it, especially since he seems to apologise about it any time we have an interaction, lol (but I'll talk about it more when that happens, shhh)

Sorry if it was all so long, but I did leave out stuff too, sksks. Honestly, I kinda needed this, it was nice talking to people and they're all so easy to talk to 💞 James and Mariah were a nice surprise, can't wait for Gross Prophets 👉👈

[hihigherdi]

When I was at the Al Brooks talk, I kept thinking about how much I loved writing when I was younger, when I first got here to San Francisco. I have so many stories from the different retail places I’ve worked – Nordstrom, Microsoft, where I am now - where I climbed and then fell off the corporate ladders year after year while going to therapy to deal with all of the personal stuff that the jobs surfaced

I might drop a few entries here of that old writing stuff as I think about what could be new.

Love is the Elixir

He came well recommended though he lived in the country. My friends and I share a prejudice regarding rural America, we’re too cynical to appreciate its undiscovered charms. Sure, we like the ponies and the idea of antiquing but when you haul that stuff back to the house? All you really have is an old busted up bench that’s really uncomfortable. Where I’m from, everybody knows that the best part of small towns is the hope that you’ll come across a rogue A&W so you can drink the perfect root beer float. As with most small towns, the road turned into more roads and suddenly, I was there.

You’d think a therapist’s office in the country would at least have some kind of white picket fence. Maybe one of those Desidrata welcome mats or a winsome little sign on a wooden door that said “We’re just two chickens clucking around”.

I’m nervous even writing this.

But instead I was greeted by a pasture filled with Longhorn cattle, the kind that seems to only live in Texas or a Chuck Norris film. You know – America. But seriously, Longhorn cattle? In my therapeutic experience? That was unexpected. I parked my little city slicker car so terribly out of place, wandered up to the fence and eye-balled a big male. It was a “he” based on the size of its…hooves. It lumbered over and eye-balled me right back.

Hello cow.

I knew he probably deserved a more majestic greeting but my whispered hi there was further indictment of why I was there in the first place (I had no opening lines with males of any kind).

I tentatively opened up the little country door to the little country house. A deafening wave of classical music coming from upstairs hit me square in the face from a room somewhere upstairs. It was the music that someone who had to sit on the other side of other peoples’ crazy needs to absorb between appointments. I felt guilty that we put him through it.

I waited in the obligatory little room where people like me wait. Leather-bound books and a cozy chair that felt like it had been born there. And a poster that simply read “Love is the Elixir of the Universe.” While I sunk into the chair and silently panicked, a little Corgi waddled her way inside. I stroked her back, admired her little belly and told her so. Feeling my heart slow just a little. Would I still have need of a therapist had I invested in a dog two years ago? What about a cat? A bird would have sent me there years earlier, I knew that much.

The music stopped. A disembodied voice cut through the silence and called for me without using my name. One part Indian, one part British all the rest of it weary. I’d been rejected by enough men to know he didn’t want me there which was fine, fuck you Mr.Tired Voice, I didn’t exactly want to be there either.

He was an old man. Surprisingly little. Glasses. Bare feet. God. Bare feet, come on.

He sat in his chair. I sat in the couch. He didn’t look at me, didn’t say hello. Just started writing on a note pad. We sat there for a good minute or two in total silence. If someone could have harnessed my nervous energy a few more polar bears would be alive today. Did you read the Wall Street Journal article suggesting that nervous energy is extremely productive? It can create things like biodegradable fuel that people outside of Berkeley actually care about and save animals that are extinct. Maybe you’re reading this, you’re smart enough to make that happen and you just haven’t because you’re nervous but you’re lazy. Do you feel badly now that you know you could have done something for the bears? If not you should, you really should.

Why are you here.

I’m here to let go of a relationship I never really had that may have wrecked me.

So you’re crazy then.

(Go to hell you elitist, classical music-listening, cotton shirt-wearing, creepy barefoot longhorn cattle-owning clearly height compensating narcissist.)

Well it feels that way sometimes. But I don’t want to be.

What happens if you really are wrecked.

At least I’ll know. That has to be good. It’s the not knowing that’s hard.

But don’t you already know?

(Jesus asked, Do you really want to get well?)

I suppose I do. I guess I want to be something more than wrecked from someone who should have never wrecked me in the first place.

Will you tell the truth?

Yes. (too quick)

…I don’t think I know how.

So you’re a liar.

(He SEES. Get out. Make him like you. But he won’t. He sees you.)

I don’t have much to lose so I guess I will. It’s weird how long it took to get here, how tightly one can cling to something that doesn’t even exist, that’s all in my head but false hope seems to be postponed grief. So yes, I’ll be honest. Maybe it’s easy to be honest when one is at the bottom of things.

Is that it?

Is what it?

Silence.

What are you afraid of most?

That I’ll charm you and you won’t be able to see me and I will leave with the relief of knowing that I’ve fooled you like I’ve fooled everybody else. And the despair of knowing that I did.

You know all that is up to you.

That’s what scares me the most.

It should.

I may not be ready for this. I may not be capable.

No one ever is. Isn’t that beautiful.

[zepskies]

Oh God, here we go!!

With a mouthful of Donno’s Special of the Day sandwich, Beau came to stand behind a whole group of people who had gathered around a laptop screen propped up on his desk.

Ahaha I love this mention! 😂

In all honesty, he had a confession to make: He’d never watched a single of Diane’s videos to the end. He knew you’d probably watched them a thousand times, but he couldn’t do it. He had watched parts of it, sure, but never the bitter end. He didn’t know how you'd done it. He always figured you were a lot stronger than him.

Hmm interesting...

Turner hadn’t frisked you again – big mistake.

Ha! I love her, she's such a badass.~

Why couldn’t it have been the Friends set in Hollywood? Instead, you had to visit Diane Newton’s arts and crafts project.

He gasped a breathless sound, his eyes growing wide and white. You let go and stepped back. You’d never killed someone before – not like this at least.

Ho lord, I was on the edge of my seat throughout this ENTIRE scene, proverbially biting my nails. 😬😬 Especially wincing at this part:

The roaring Grizzly kicked you right into your bear trap injury. With a painful scream and a searing pain, you fell to your knees and clasped your wound.

(Good metaphor/play on words there though 😅)

You wanted to scream till your lungs were depleted of all oxygen, but you didn’t have enough air for a breakdown in this bunker. You took one last deep breath to ground yourself and closed your eyes.

Ugh, she's so much stronger than me. I'd be a blubbering mess on the floor, poor thing. 😭😭 But it was so interesting watching her try and figure out the puzzle of this room (and Diane's game). I love those moments where you as the audience know there's an answer here somewhere, but you just have to watch on edge as the person works it out in desperation. 🥲

And on the flip side, this is torture for Beau, a man of action, to not be able to do anything. To just wait and see if anything changes.

You stopped then, your body slumping against the wall, too drained to write any more. You didn’t need to. The message was clear.

This is so truly intense -- it's cinematic in so many ways, and I'm loving this suspense...

But most of all, you had thought about Beau. Simple things. The color of his pine green eyes. The smell of his leathery cologne. The sound of his hearty laugh. The warmth of his large hands. Would you ever see, hear, or feel those things again?

And then – water. Cold, relentless water began pouring in, cascading through the new hole in the roof, spilling across the floor in an uncontrolled flood. Fuck.

Oh God, oh God, oh Goddddddd!!!!!!!

He stumbled back onto his feet, his trembling hands picking up a small, golden band. His chest seized. The ring.

Oooh I'm sensing some symbolism here, despite the gravity of the situation!! lol GO, BEAU, GO!!!!

His mind kept circling back to you. You were trapped down there. Trapped and drowning. I’m coming, darlin’. Hold on.

GAH! This is the delicious White Knight-saving angst that I live for. 🥹

Tears blurred his vision as he pressed his ear to your chest, listening for any sign of life.

When I tell you my heart was in my throat during this entire scene, but this is the part that gave me stomach flips...

And for the first time in days, Beau let himself breathe as he steadied your trembling frame in his embrace.

But there was one thing you had always cherished during your involuntary stays: Pudding.

Lmaoo this kind of pudding??

While your brain had adjusted, your heart remained steadfast. Randy had recognized it too and conceded. When he left your bedside, you sent him a smile with tears brimming in your eyes. A chapter closed. A song ended. But your heart was at peace.

Aww in a way I do still feel bad for Randy, but "dissolved;" I think that's the right word for it as well. I love that last line in the scene. 💙

Beau and Randy's parting was bittersweet, but Beau's apprehension coming to the reader's hospital room was honestly kind of adorable (since we already know where this is heading) lol.

“Oh, it was,” Beau confirmed, your heart expanding with a breath of relief. “Going with an insanity defense here. So… what does that mean?” Musingly, you bit down on your lip. “I don’t know. Guess you’ll have to come closer and find out.” Beau’s lips hiked to a wide, genuine smile for the first time in days. His feet began moving toward you.

Awww haha, they're so cute!! I would've loved to see that reunion kiss. 🥹 But I have a feeling these two are finally off to their happy ending...

“How’s the ankle? That stool looks uncomfortable,” he noted, brushing his beard. His head tilted. “You need a pillow? Imma grab you one. Anything you need, darlin’. Officially retired since yesterday, you know? I’m here all day. Just say the word, and I’ll make it happen.”

Lol that is peak Beau behavior there! I love the rambling and the adorable fussing. Makes my heart so full. ❤️ Especially how she's just like, "sit down and be with me, you fool." 😂

I also found it very interesting how they both decided to retire. They've clearly been through the absolute wringer, plus the whole matter of Beau probably never feeling safe in that office again, and the reader needing time upon time to recover from all that trauma. It's a lovely new chapter for these two to have a quieter life together, whether or not they have kids down the line (though I love that conversation they had. Beau's line of “Look, I’m already retiring from the job – I don’t wanna retire from life,” had me dead lol). 🥹

This was a crazy ride of a series, but beautifully weaved with a lovely finish. Amazing job, my friend!! 💕💕

Polaris – Chapter 13

Series Summary: When Beau Arlen moved to Montana, he left behind a past he wasn’t proud of. But when a series of murders requires the FBI’s help, Sheriff Arlen‘s ghosts come back to haunt him one by one. With a wrong turn waiting at every crossroads, it’s hard to make the right choices and find his way back home – back to you.

Pairing: Beau Arlen x FBI Agent!Reader

Warnings: 18+, major angst, kidnapping, confined spaces, violence, injuries, drowning, CPR, life-and-death situations, the fluffiest ending (If any of these warnings trigger you, stay away ⚠️🫶)

Word Count: 7.4k

A/N: We're here! Last part, babes 😘 Thank you guys so much for sticking with me on this one. I know it was another wild ride, but I appreciated your sweet, insightful, and funny comments throughout 🥹🤍

Ready? Don't forget to breathe 😉

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Tag List

Chapter 13: Sure And Certain

“What’s she doing?”

With a mouthful of Donno’s Special of the Day sandwich, Beau came to stand behind a whole group of people who had gathered around a laptop screen propped up on his desk.

He threw another sandwich wrapped in paper on the desk in front of Randy, who sat comfortably in his chair and nodded a ‘thank you.’ Behind him, Jenny leaned casually against the window sill with an intensely knitted brow. Cassie and Denise, on the other hand, had grabbed themselves a set of uncomfortable, worn chairs from the break room and sat on each side of Randy, staring musingly at the screen.

“I think she’s meditating,” Denise put forth.

“No, I think she’s sleeping,” Jenny said dryly.

“I don’t know…” Cassie’s brow furrowed.

Beau frowned as he stepped forward, stealing a glance at the livestream himself. You were still lying perfectly motionless on the long metal table in the middle of the room. They knew you were alive, though. They had watched you crawl up there and lie down. Sometimes, your eyes were open. Sometimes, they were closed for long periods of time.

“She’s still doing what she’s been doing for eight hours now,” Beau huffed. Honestly, he’d be more worried if it wasn’t so damn frustrating.

“Maybe the poor thing’s in shock after everything she’s been through,” Denise suggested sympathetically.

Beau hoped she wasn’t right. Seeing you give up didn’t sit well with him. He couldn’t watch you lie there alone in the cold until there was no air left anymore.

In all honesty, he had a confession to make: He’d never watched a single of Diane’s videos to the end. He knew you’d probably watched them a thousand times, but he couldn’t do it. He had watched parts of it, sure, but never the bitter end. He didn’t know how you'd done it. He always figured you were a lot stronger than him.

But maybe you’d seen something on those videos he didn’t know but had to.

“Y/N?” Randy scoffed at Denise’s proposal with conviction and shook his head. “No, she wouldn’t give up, and I doubt Turner scared her that much. She put a screwdriver in the guy, for crying out loud,” he argued his objection. “No, she’s thinking.”

Beau hated to agree with Randy but hoped to hell he was right.

“Maybe,” Cassie mused and squinted her eyes at the screen. “I think she’s staring at the light above her.”

With narrowed eyes, everyone drew in closer to the screen and observed you.

“I think Cass is right,” Jenny said and retreated to her old position, smirking.

Beau frowned anew and flailed his arms. “Why?”

Fucking Hal Turner.

He got you with a shovel, tied your hands, hauled you back to the cabin and sedated you.

You woke with a few meager slaps across your face before groggily being dragged through the woods at night on unsteady legs. You slipped in and out of consciousness a few times, but you knew Turner wasn’t strong enough to carry you, so he had to keep you awake enough to walk, but sedated enough to not fight back.

You, however, tried to memorize and plan as much as your dazed mind possibly let you. You remembered how long you’d walked from the cabin to the bunker – about thirty minutes. You knew which direction you’d walked as you’d glanced up at the stars – north. And you knew you had hiked slightly up, but not more than twelve degrees. You remembered the faint sounds of a river splashing close by.

Most importantly, you could still feel the screwdriver tucked into your sock in your left boot.

Turner hadn’t frisked you again – big mistake.

As soon as you’d reached the spot of the supposed bunker, you frowned when Turner removed a pile of leaves, moss and dirt from the forest floor and opened the metal hatch that hid underneath.

Oh, hell no…

You weren’t getting in there. If you hadn’t known it before, you surely knew it now.

You would’ve been fine with the cabin because you knew Beau and the department would eventually find it. He’d get a list of their properties and find it. Denise had been in charge of those, and she’d been meticulous.

You would’ve been fine with an above-ground bunker, or even halfway above, too. Once the team would find the cabin, they’d know Turner and you couldn’t have gone far. They’d find the blood and test it, realizing with relief that most of it wasn’t yours. They’d know you’d be in the general area, and Beau would move heaven and earth to find you.

But this thing? They’d never fucking find you here.

Roughly, Turner shoved you down the tight metal stairway, leading to a room you knew only too well from videos. Now, you were here and saw it all for real, like glimpsing behind the scenes of a movie set.

Why couldn’t it have been the Friends set in Hollywood? Instead, you had to visit Diane Newton’s arts and crafts project.

Hal Turner cut your ties – again. And you saw it as your perfect way to escape. Again.

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.

With your elbows and shoulders, you shoved Turner backwards and bent down, quickly retrieving the screwdriver from your boot. You spun around and thrust it straight into his left carotid artery.

He gasped a breathless sound, his eyes growing wide and white. You let go and stepped back.

You’d never killed someone before – not like this at least.

But then Turner inhaled a deep breath of air – strained, angry, fighting. And you finally understood where the phrase white-hot rage stemmed from.

The roaring Grizzly kicked you right into your bear trap injury. With a painful scream and a searing pain, you fell to your knees and clasped your wound.

He then fled up the stairs like a rat through a sewer cover, tossing the hatch shut behind him. There was the sound of a thick lock before some shuffling followed. At least he couldn’t have done a good job on covering up the entrance. Maybe they’d find you easier this way.

Better yet, you hoped Turner would succumb to his fatal injury not too far from the hatch. If they found his body close by, they could find you too, right?

At least you’d gotten the bastard…

You wanted to scream till your lungs were depleted of all oxygen, but you didn’t have enough air for a breakdown in this bunker. You took one last deep breath to ground yourself and closed your eyes.

Then, you opened them.

The bright neon light flickered above as your eyes darted around the room. The space was sparse, concrete walls peeling in places, as though even the structure was trying to escape. You didn’t want to think too much about how long you would be trapped here.

You already knew this place by heart and what would happen if you didn’t get out.

At the edge of the corner, sat a row of rusty metal lockers. Shuffling over on your good leg, you opened the shrieking door and found that the lockers held various odds and ends – tools, cans, an assortment of chemical bottles with faded labels, and a single, cracked lightbulb resting on its side.

The other victims had received these items as well but never pieced enough of it together to escape. A few drank the chemical bottles for a quicker death out of sheer desperation. While you unfortunately couldn’t solve Diane’s little riddle either, you swore to yourself poison would never be a last resort.

You’d seen those deaths – they had neither been quick nor painless.

You found a first-aid kit as well and lowered yourself to the cold ground, bandaging your ankle. As you tightened the bandage to stop the blood flow, your eyes glanced up the shelves.

Your breath hitched. In the back of your mind, a vague memory from your 7th grade science teacher stirred – something about pressure, something about triggering a chain reaction. You tried to push it away but the thought wouldn’t leave. Maybe an escape was possible after all. There were things you could use – you just needed to figure out how.

The jar of white powder caught your eye. It was too fine to be salt. The label was half-scratched off, but you could make out the word "sulfate." Next to it, a small container of copper wiring lay scattered across the shelf – tiny, thin strands coiled tightly like little snakes, their sharp ends glinting in the harsh neon light.

You pulled at your sleeves nervously, staring at the broken lightbulb once more. If you twisted it carefully, the filament inside would snap. Maybe. Then there was the sharp wire… You let the idea float in your mind for just a moment longer before shaking it off.

And there was that other thing. Something buried deeper in the corner, an oily rag, half-soaked in a pungent smell you couldn’t quite place. You made a mental note. They weren’t much, but they were something.

If you could just piece it all together…

Tiredly, you heaved yourself onto the large metal table in the middle of the room. It was harsh, cold, and uncomfortable, but it was all you had. You lied down on your back and stared at the ceiling, at the flickering neon light above you. Then, you closed your eyes again.

Think, think, think…

For hours, Beau had now stared at the grainy footage, watching your unmoving form. The neon light flickered overhead, casting long shadows against the cold, cement walls of the bunker. His hands were trembling as he gripped the armrests of his chair, his body taut with the weight of helplessness.

The others had left his office a while ago, scrambling to find a way to get you out. There was a search going on, a team of skilled rescuers turning over every stone in the general vicinity of the cabin. Beau knew you couldn’t be far from there. And still, he feared he wouldn’t find you in time.

Truthfully, he knew the only one that could get you out was you. If you just stopped lying there…

Nothing. Not even a twitch. What the hell were you thinking about?

You were alive. He knew you were, reminding himself of that fact on an hourly basis. But for all the good it did, it didn’t matter. The silence on the feed was more suffocating than any sound.

But then…

A subtle movement. A shift in the shadows, so slight that at first, he thought it was just his eyes playing tricks on him.

His heart skipped.

Your fingers twitched, just enough to catch his attention. And then, slowly, agonizingly, you dragged yourself up, struggling to sit. He watched the quiet shuffle of your body across the concrete floor. You were alive. You were still fighting.

“Guys!” his gruff voice called loudly for the cavalry, but he didn’t wait for them to flood into his office.

Beau leaned forward in his chair, holding his breath. His heart hammered in his chest as you lifted your head, your eyes flicking briefly to the camera – aware. You knew he was watching.

Your movements were shaky, too weak for anything swift, but they were purposeful. You scanned the room with desperation. The broken lightbulb in the rusty locker, jagged glass fragments scattered on the shelf, caught your attention.

You reached for it.

Beau’s stomach twisted. No, don’t…

But it was too late. You pressed the sharp edge against the skin of your palm, wincing with the effort as blood began to bead at the surface. His breath hitched, fingers curling into fists at his sides. The blood flowed in slow, steady streams, painting your hand.

You didn’t flinch.

You moved with a practiced precision, grimly intent. With shaky fingers, you scooped some blood on your pointer finger and pressed the pad to the wall, your arm trembling as you began to write.

Seismograph.

Beau’s eyes locked onto the word, his brow furrowing.

Seismograph?

You were so weak. You could barely hold yourself up, and yet, you were still thinking. Still trying. Then you turned to the wall once more, collecting more blood on your finger as you struggled to form the second word.

3 hours.

You stopped then, your body slumping against the wall, too drained to write any more. You didn’t need to. The message was clear.

The feed cut to static for a brief moment, the camera buzzing with distortion, before it returned to the silent, unchanging image of your still form against the wall. But Beau wasn’t looking at you anymore.

His mind raced, blood thundering in his ears. Seismograph. 3 hours.

A tremor ran through him – an earthquake in his chest.

Seismograph. You were giving him a clue. Something seismic. A signal of some kind. His gut twisted. He was supposed to know what it meant.

3 hours. What did that mean? Three hours before something? Three hours after something?

He didn’t have time to analyze it. You were sending him a lifeline. And whatever it meant, he was going to find you.

“What’s going on?” Jenny was the first to thunder into his office, her heart beating fast in her ribcage. She came to stand behind Beau and glanced at the screen, her brow knitting at the crimson words on the concrete wall in the same way his had. “Seismograph. 3 hours,” the blonde read aloud. “What does it mean?”

Cassie stood quietly in the doorframe, listening and thinking. “What is in those lockers?”

“I don’t know. We never found a bunker before, and Diane sure as hell ain’t telling us,” Beau huffed frustratedly.

“But there are chemicals of some kind,” Jenny pointed out, squinting her eyes at the laptop.

“Maybe she’s building a bomb,” Cassie proposed.

Beau pondered the theory for a beat. Then, he nodded. “We already know the area of the bunker. We could probably find her exact location through the tremors.”

“With a seismograph,” Jenny finished the thought. “Well, let’s hope she doesn’t blow herself up first.”

Beau hoped that, too. He didn’t even know you possessed bomb-making skills, but he figured you hadn’t known that fact about yourself either. This was by far not a thoroughly planned undertaking.

“Alright, get a damn seismograph here. I don’t care where you get it or what it costs. We’ve got three hours,” Beau barked his orders with a racing heart.

Your message had just bought him time, and he wasn’t going to waste it. You were still alive. He could still save you. And he wasn’t going to stop until he did.

Your breath came in short, labored gasps as you hunched over the crude metal table in the dark, sterile bunker. The faint hum of the camera feeding into the livestream echoed through the silence, the red light blinking softly as its lens captured your every movement, broadcasting your quiet panic.

You knew Beau was watching. They all probably were. You could almost feel their eyes on you, their silent judgment, their hope that this would work. They’d see the sweat glistening on your brow, the faint tremor in your hands as you worked on your little science fair project.

But it wasn’t fear that made you shake now. It was the cold certainty that time was running out.

You carefully twisted the wire around the small, makeshift device you’d cobbled together from the limited supplies at your disposal. Every movement was deliberate, every breath controlled, even as your mind raced a marathon. You lifted the device to your ear, listening for the faint click as you tightened the final screw. Done.

The one thing they had to get right was the seismic readings.

The bomb was crude – imperfect – but it was all you had. The plan was simple: blow the door open if you could, cause a seismic tremor, and hope the team could triangulate your location. They would track the explosion on the seismograph, find your coordinates, and come for you.

If you were lucky.

Maybe you should leave another message behind for him. In those hours you had lain on the table and pondered, you had thought about your escape. You had also thought about various torturous ways to kill Diane. You had celebrated your little win against Turner. But most of all, you had thought about Beau.

Simple things. The color of his pine green eyes. The smell of his leathery cologne. The sound of his hearty laugh. The warmth of his large hands. Would you ever see, hear, or feel those things again?

A tear streaked your cheek that you swiftly wiped away. Sobbing would cost you too much goddamn air. You couldn’t afford it.

You stole one last glance at the camera, your face a grim mask of resolve. Then you moved quickly, setting the device in place. You looked at the door on top of the steps – solid metal, bolted shut, impossible to open without the right tools.

Tools you didn’t have.

You hurried down the stairs and pushed the metal table onto its side, using it as a shield from the blast as you hunched down low behind it. It had been a little over three hours. It was time. With a sharp breath, you pushed the button of the remote detonator.

The explosion hit like a fist. The sound was deafening, but muffled in the confined space. Your ears rang as the shockwave slammed into you, throwing you back against the cold, unforgiving concrete wall. Your head spun, and for a moment, everything went black.

Then came the tremor.

It rippled through the ground like a violent pulse. The bunker groaned – metal creaking, concrete cracking. The lights flickered and went out, plunging you into near-total darkness, save for the dim emergency glow above the door.

And then, with a deep, bone-rattling crack, something shifted above you.

You scrambled to your feet, disoriented. What the hell was that?

A series of sharp, cracking sounds echoed from the ceiling, followed by a wet, muffled splintering. Your breath caught in your throat as a large root – gnarled and thick as a limb – suddenly pierced through the bunker’s ceiling, splintering the metal and concrete. The roots of a large tree slithered down – a slow, creeping thing – and it didn’t stop. It tore through the ceiling like it had been waiting for this moment, its jagged edges scraping against the walls.

And then – water. Cold, relentless water began pouring in, cascading through the new hole in the roof, spilling across the floor in an uncontrolled flood.

Fuck.

Your heart pounded wildly as you stumbled backward, the water already rising around your ankles, creeping steadily toward your knees. You could hear the steady drip of water splashing against the cold, metal floor, each drop sending a ripple through your chest.

The livestream camera remained on, the blinking red light still steady, but your mind was running a mile a minute – panic rising like a tidal wave. You had no time. You had to move, had to act. But the water was already rising faster than you could think. The air was thick, the walls seemed to be closing in on you, and the roots above groaned ominously as if the earth itself was about to swallow you whole.

You ran toward the door, your boots splashing through the growing puddle. But aside from causing a giant hole in the ceiling, the bomb hadn’t done enough damage to escape. The root’s tendrils were still creeping down from above, twisting around the ceiling. You could hear the scrape of it, its thick fingers reaching into the dark corners of the room.

The sound of the water filled your ears as it surged up around your waist. You stumbled, falling to one knee as the icy liquid engulfed you. Your chest tightened, panic clawing at your throat.

It was too much. The explosion, the quake, the roots, and now the rising water – everything was converging at once. A part of you knew this was it. You wouldn’t get out. They wouldn’t get here in time to save you. But a small flicker of hope was still alive in your heart.

You clutched the camera’s wire, the blinking red light still visible in the murk, as if it was the last lifeline you had left.

“Please,” you breathed, although you knew they couldn’t hear you, but your voice was barely audible over the rush of water anyways. “Please, find me.”

The woods were dense, the trees thick with fog and shadows. Beau ran through the underbrush, his boots pounding against the damp earth, the scent of pine and wet leaves filling his lungs. Sweat stung his green eyes, his breath coming in ragged bursts as he pushed his body beyond its limits. His heart thundered in his chest, not from the exertion, but from the terror building inside him, growing with each passing second.

He’d found it.

The seismograph had done its job. The tremor from the explosion had sent ripples through the earth, and in those ripples, he’d pinpointed the location. There was no time to think, no time to second-guess. He didn’t know how much time you had left, but the second the signal went off and the icy water of a nearby river had wound its way into the confined space, rising like a tide as it flooded the bunker, he’d known it could only be minutes till you took your last breath.

Beau’s mind reeled at the thought.

He stumbled over a fallen log, his eyes never leaving the ground ahead of him. He was so close. It had to be here. He had seconds to make it. He knew it had to be deep. The bunker was buried beneath the forest floor, hidden like a trap, and there was only one way in: a hatch maybe, barely visible among the trees, the earth heavy with moss and years of neglect. He had to get there – now.

He could hear the team searching all around him, crying with calls of your name that echoed through the trees. As he stared up through the tops of the towering pines, he could see the North Star twinkling brightly above him. His heart twinged. His gaze dropped and then landed on the far beam of his flashlight. Something flickered in the distance, just a few yards away from him, buried in the moss.

He stumbled back onto his feet, his trembling hands picking up a small, golden band. His chest seized.

The ring.

His ears picked up the babbling sounds of water. The river was close, only a few feet away. That had to be it. You’d left him another sign.

Grabbing his flashlight, his hands hastily searched the ground. His fingers brushed a thick patch of bramble, and then – there. His breath halted. Metal.

The hatch.

He skidded to a stop, his hands shaking as he dropped to his knees and cleared the leaves and brush away. The metal was a bit busted and bent out of shape, probably from the bomb, but the bolt that kept it tightly shut was still in tact. His fingers fumbled for the lock, every second stretching longer than the last.

“It’s here!” Beau yelled loudly, calling the others for help. “She’s here!”

His mind kept circling back to you. You were trapped down there. Trapped and drowning.

I’m coming, darlin’. Hold on.

Finally, his fingers found the latch, and with a metallic groan, the hatch creaked open.

The stench of damp earth hit him first – the cold, stagnant air of a place that had been shut off from the world for too long. His flashlight flickered as he shined it down into the narrow opening. The steps below were steep, the darkness absolute. He could hear the distant drip of water, and with it, a rising sense of urgency.

He didn’t waste time. Without a second thought, he grabbed the flashlight and began to descend, the metal of the hatch scraping against the edges of the door as he pulled it wide open. His breath caught as he stepped into the narrow stairwell.

The moment he hit the bottom, the sound of rushing water was unmistakable.

The tunnel was flooded. The water was rising fast, covering the floor in murky, black waves. The small concrete room at the base of the stairs had become a watery tomb, the level inching toward the ceiling.

He shouted your name, his voice crackling in the damp air.

But there was no answer.

Beau pushed forward, his heart in his throat, eyes scanning every inch of the flooded room. Your presence was all he could feel – your spirit, your strength, your last message. He had to find you.

A sudden thud echoed through the chamber, the faint sound of something – or someone – shifting beneath the water.

Beau’s eyes locked on the back wall of the room, where the water was thickest, swirling around a pile of debris. His mind screamed. The seconds were melting away, and he couldn’t afford to waste a single one.

The wall was crumbling under the pressure, but the thing that struck him wasn’t just the damage. It was the stillness. There was no movement. No air.

His pulse spiked as he waded through the rising water, kicking through the murk with his boots, moving faster now, hands trembling as he shoved aside debris.

Please, please, please…

And then, beneath the surface, a hand – limp, floating like a ghost. Beau lunged, his fingers brushing against your wrist, cold and unyielding.

He cried your name again, his voice hoarse with panic as he pulled you to him, cradling your body against his chest.

Your skin was ice-cold. Your hair matted against your face, your body limp in his arms. You were unconscious – or worse.

Don’t you dare be dead. Don’t you dare.

Beau’s breath came in harsh bursts, his hands fumbling against you, trying to find any sign of life. The water was rising too fast.

He wasn’t going to lose you. Not like this.

With a single, desperate motion, he hoisted you into his arms. He didn’t stop. His feet pounded the water-soaked concrete as he bolted back toward the stairs, his lungs burning, the world blurring around him.

Get out. Get out.

He could feel the water rising behind him, flooding the room with the force of a tide. He didn’t know if the two of you would make it. He didn’t know if he could make it.

But he was going to try. He was going to fight like hell to keep you alive.

The hatch was there, just ahead, the only way out. He pushed harder, faster, as the water reached his knees, then his waist. Every breath was a battle. Every second felt like an eternity.

With one final push, he reached the top of the stairs, stumbling out into the fresh air, gasping for breath, his legs weak beneath him. He laid you on the ground, your limp body draped across the earth.

Beau’s hands were shaking as he knelt beside you. “Darlin’,” he whispered, shaking you gently.

Nothing.

Tears blurred his vision as he pressed his ear to your chest, listening for any sign of life.

A faint, fragile beat.

You were still with him.

He could barely breathe, panic threatening to swallow him whole, but he knew he had to keep it together.

He leaned over your body, his hands moving quickly. “Come on, darlin’. Come on…” His voice cracked as he positioned his hands, interlocking his fingers over your sternum. He gave two hard compressions, the sound of his palms meeting your chest too loud in the thick silence.

Still nothing. Your skin was frozen, your lips tinged blue.

His breath hitched, and he started again – one, two, three…

His heart hammered in his chest as he leaned down, pinching your nose and sealing his mouth over yours. He breathed into you, feeling the faint rise of your chest beneath him.

Please, please, don’t leave me.

He gave you another breath, then returned to the chest compressions – one, two, three…

Time seemed to stretch on endlessly, each moment more desperate than the last. His hands moved faster, his fingers slick with water and sweat as he pressed into you again and again. He wasn’t thinking. He couldn’t.

He hadn’t even taken note of the crowd that had gathered around him, watching the dire spectacle.

Finally – after what felt like a lifetime – your body jerked beneath his hands. You gasped, a harsh, ragged breath, and Beau nearly collapsed in relief. He cradled your head gently, his green eyes searching your face as you coughed weakly, water spilling from your mouth.

“You’re okay. You’re okay,” he breathed into your hair, his voice thick with emotion and eyes filled with tears as he kissed your crown repeatedly, his hold tight around your body.

You opened your eyes, just a sliver at first, and then you blinked, your hand weakly reaching for his cheek before it dropped to his chest.

“Beau…” you whispered, your voice barely a breath before you let out the first few sobs and coiled against him.

“It’s alright. I’m here.”

And for the first time in days, Beau let himself breathe as he steadied your trembling frame in his embrace.

Hospitals weren’t your favorite thing in the world. In fact, you had pretty much avoided them your whole life. You’d screamed your way through your tonsils surgery when you were five. You refused to get your broken arm cast when you were fourteen. But there was one thing you had always cherished during your involuntary stays:

Pudding.

Randy was the first person that stopped by early in the morning. You didn’t know if that decision had been a collusive one, agreed upon by the whole team, but you were grateful for the visit – more grateful when he brought you your sweet treat.

Something had been going on, though, while you were locked up – you could tell. As you’d clung to Beau’s chest last night in the forest, you caught Randy in the crowd around you before he ducked his head and retreated into the shadows. Your heart broke at the sight.

Beau didn’t leave your side, though, even riding in the ambulance with you while reassuring you throughout. He held your hand tightly, but his shoulders were stiff. And when they wheeled you out of the emergency room, the doors closed in front of him. You hadn’t seen or heard from him since.

You’d only slept for about five hours, but it had been a deep slumber. You had been out like a light. But as soon as you woke, you felt the aches of your body. There wasn’t a single limb or organ that didn’t groan in pain. Your ankle was the worst, though – the doctors told you you were lucky you got to keep it by the degree of infection it had suffered. The murky water of the river surely hadn’t helped cleaning it.

Sepsis, hypothermia, drowning, and lifelong trauma were just a few of the things you had to recover from.

There was also the dissolution of your marriage – you’d finally found the right term. Not widowed, not divorced – dissolved.

Randy stayed for three hours, and you had an honest and long talk. Oddly enough, being in his presence didn’t feel strange anymore. It felt familiar.

While your brain had adjusted, your heart remained steadfast. Randy had recognized it too and conceded. When he left your bedside, you sent him a smile with tears brimming in your eyes.

A chapter closed. A song ended. But your heart was at peace.

Beau’s heart pounded furiously in his chest as he stood glued outside your hospital room. Every laugh that echoed through the door felt like a gut punch.

Randy had asked to speak to you first. Beau had granted him the request – not that it had been really up to him. But Randy had been gracious last night, and the sheriff knew it couldn’t have been easy.

Beau had arrived at the hospital around noon, only to find you and Randy were still talking. Not only talking but laughing. While his heart murmured a tiny bit, he supposed it was a good sign. Who said you had to throw plates or the occasional vase at each other?

Twenty minutes later, Randy finally exited and ran straight into Beau around the corner, who had leaned against the wall and tried to answer the many nosy questions of the group chat. He didn’t know why the hell Cassie had invited him into this one…

“Oh, hey.” Randy chuckled lightly as he bumped into Beau, eyeing him with a suspicious brow. There was the flash of a smirk on his face.

Eager, are we? Beau could read Randy thoughts, even though his former friend refrained from saying them out loud.

“Hey.” Beau’s voice was low. He swallowed thickly as he tried his hardest not to avert his gaze to the linoleum flooring. “How is she?”

“In good spirits,” Randy replied but then paused. “For now. I think the morphine’s kicking in.”

“So, uhm–”

Beau didn’t know where that sentence would end. Flat-out asking Randy how your conversation went would’ve just been pathetically nosy – and rude. His mama had raised him better than that.

“I’m going back to Houston,” Randy still answered the unasked question.

“With, uhm–” Your name hung on the tip of Beau’s tongue before he bit down, noting Randy’s shaking head.

“Don’t push it.”

“Right…” Beau smacked his lips and cleared his throat, his hand scratching the nape of his neck. “So, what about you and me, huh? I know right now’s a stretch, but maybe down the road we could grab a beer?”

Randy’s lips pursed at first – unsure. But after a beat passed, he nodded slightly. “Maybe, yeah.” He hesitated. “Hit me up if you’re ever in Houston, alright?”

“Yeah, alright.” Beau’s lips twitched to a smile of surprise, but he still wished there was more he could do, more he could offer. It didn’t feel enough. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

Randy gave him a tight-lipped nod and patted him on the shoulder as he passed him. “You too.”

Beau watched Randy angle towards the elevators before exhaling a deep breath. Green eyes then drifted to your door. His heart was both elated and heavy. Questions circled in his mind.

What now?

The case was as good as over. Would you leave now? Where would you go? Beau knew your home was in Houston. Should he move back there, too? Would you even want him to? He’d broken up with you. Again. Were you still mad at him for it? He had tried to restrain himself last night, not knowing where the two of you stood. He held your hand in his, even though it was your whole body he wanted to keep holding in his arms.

You’d chosen no one. Maybe this was a day of break-ups for you.

Beau’s knuckles softly knocked on your door before he entered. Unsurely, he stood until your eyes glanced up and found his. A smile rose on your lips.

“Hey, there you are. You just missed Randy,” you said.

At a loss for words, Beau stared at you for a moment, his heart hammering in his chest. You still looked pretty rough – hooked up to IVs, your face and arms covered in bruises and cuts. But at least you were here – alive. There was some color back in your cheeks. Until a few hours ago, he wasn’t sure he’d ever get to see you again.

“Oh, uh, passed him in the hall,” Beau finally said and obnoxiously cleared his throat. “Said he was going back to Houston.”

“Yeah, he told me. I gave him my apartment,” you said, your voice a casual melody as you ignored the tension that was building between you two.

Beau’s brows shot up. “You gave him your place?”

“Least I could do. I sold his home.”

“Where are you gonna stay?”

“Oh, I don’t know yet. Guess I’m kinda homeless now. Again,” you said and hid the hint of a smile. You could see his wires were crossed.

“Hmm,” he hummed and shifted on his heels.

“Thank you,” you then said softly, trying to fight the tears that pricked your eyes. You swallowed heavily. “For saving me, you know? Bringing me back to life…”

“Don’t mention it,” he replied with a tight-lipped smile and a shake of his head, although a lump formed in the back of his throat at the haunting image of you, limb in his arms. He never wanted to see something like this again. He never wanted to feel that crippling, numbing fear ever again.

You snorted slightly at his understatement, fumbling with your fingers in your lap. “Feel like I have to. They told me you gave me CPR for three minutes straight. They said I was pretty much gone.”

“They’re exaggerating. It wasn’t that long,” he brushed off. “‘Sides, I wasn’t gonna let you die on my watch.”

“Like I said, thanks,” you reiterated and sent him a smile. “So, why are you standing so far away like I’m radioactive?”

Beau pursed his lips. “Well, you are kinda my kryptonite, darlin’.” He scratched the back of his neck, his boots still not moving closer. “Don’t really know where we stand, y’know? I mean, last time… that morning… I guess I’m tryna say I’m sorry for puttin’ you through that. So, on a scale from one to ten, how mad are you at me right now?”

“Well, if you put it like that… zero.” You grinned teasingly. “Hard to stay mad at you, considering you’ve saved my life, you know? I’m willing to forget your momentary stupidity. Well, if it really was momentary…”

“Oh, it was,” Beau confirmed, your heart expanding with a breath of relief. “Going with an insanity defense here. So… what does that mean?”

Musingly, you bit down on your lip. “I don’t know. Guess you’ll have to come closer and find out.”

Beau’s lips hiked to a wide, genuine smile for the first time in days. His feet began moving toward you.

Enjoying the warm rays of sunlight on your face, you exhaled blissfully as you sat outside the trailer, leaning comfortably back in your chair.

“There ya go – one extra black, extra strong cup of joe.” Beau handed you your favorite mug, his pine green eyes drifting to your injured leg, propped up on a wooden stool in front of you.

“Thank you,” you replied with a smile and practically inhaled the black liquid, its warmth filling you.

“How’s the ankle? That stool looks uncomfortable,” he noted, brushing his beard. His head tilted. “You need a pillow? Imma grab you one. Anything you need, darlin’. Officially retired since yesterday, you know? I’m here all day. Just say the word, and I’ll make it happen.”

Amused, you laughed a little. “I don’t need a pillow. The ankle’s fine. Just sit down next to me and enjoy the sun, will you?”

“It’s freezing.”

“I like how the snow twinkles in the sun,” you said and patted the chair next to you. With a groan, Beau sat down, wrapping his suede jacket a little tighter around himself while you sat cozily draped in the Sherpa jacket you had stolen from his closet. It was big and wide and warm and smelled heavenly like him. “‘Sides, I have a pretty nice jacket to keep me warm.” He frowned a little at you, but an amused smile twitched on his lips. “You said I should make myself comfortable – anything I wanted.”

“Didn’t think you’d raid my closet,” he huffed playfully.

“Hey, I only came here with a tiny carry-on.”

You’d been released from the hospital last night after spending a full week there. In the meantime, Beau had decided to hang up the sheriff’s hat, handing the badge off to Jenny – you’d fully agreed with the decision. You knew his heart hadn’t been in it for a while now.

He’d also asked you to move in.

And moreover, you’d finished your last reports and then handed in your resignation at the FBI. One serial killer kidnapping was enough for you. Diane had showed you where your limit was, and that was okay. You looked forward to a quiet life with the man beside you. It was its own adventure. God knows Diane’s life wouldn’t be as happy and peaceful behind bars.

Neither of you had spoken to her since your rescue. Sheriff Hoyt had handled all things on that end. By the amount of evidence they had to go through, Ted even surmised her trial wouldn’t start until three years from now. Until then, Beau and you had promised each other you wouldn’t waste another thought on her.

Well, you supposed you had to waste some thoughts on her. A big publisher from New York had already approached you about a book deal – and the money was more than good.

“Guess we’ll have to go down to Houston to get your stuff once you’re back on your feet,” Beau said.

Musingly, you scrunched your nose and hummed. “Not sure that’s necessary. It’s not gonna fit in the trailer anyways – not with your extensive closet.”

Amused, Beau pursed his lips and chuckled. He rubbed a hand through his beard. “Yeah, I was thinking about that… Maybe we should move. Get a bigger place, you know?”

“Do they make bigger Airstreams?” you murmured teasingly into your mug, cocking an eyebrow.

His tongue poked the inside of his cheek. “I was thinking more along the lines of a house. A ranch, maybe.”

“What about a houseboat?”

“Nah, that wouldn’t work with the kids. Try keeping a toddler in a life jacket all day,” Beau quipped, shaking his head. He didn’t even seem to notice what had slipped out of his mouth.

Your brow creased. “Kids?”

His wide eyes found yours, mouth opening and closing. He let out nervous breath. “Yeah, uh, something else I wanted to talk to you about…”

“Are you pregnant?” you joked and snorted into your coffee. Then, your brow furrowed. “Wait, am I? Did the doctor say something to you? Why would you smuggle tequila into my room if you knew?”

“No one’s pregnant, darlin’…” Beau laughed softly, his hand reaching out to cover your thigh. “I was just thinking maybe more a down-the-line kinda thing. In the, uh, near future, you know?”

You narrowed your eyes suspiciously. “Well, uhm, I didn’t think that was on table. We’ve never talked about it. I mean, I honestly didn’t think you’d want to…”

“Kinda gettin’ tired of people always assuming things about me,” Beau retorted with a little smirk. He squeezed your thigh. “Kids are on the table, darlin’.”

“Huh.”

Clearing his throat, Beau leaned forward in his seat. “You know, I had a little chat with Randy…”

You scoffed in surprise. “He actually told you?”

“Bigger question is, why didn’t you tell me?” Beau’s brow raised almost scoldingly. He was a pretty great dad.

“Honestly? Because it’s none of your business. That was between me and my then-late husband,” you replied with a sharpness that matched his look – there was a playfulness lying underneath, though. You both knew the other had a point. You exhaled a long sigh. “Look, that was four years ago. A lot has changed since then. I haven’t really thought about it since Randy’s funeral. Then Mexico happened. God knows we were nowhere near ready for a conversation like this…”

You gave him a shrug of your shoulders and sipped on your coffee.

“So, you don’t want kids?”

“Do you?”

Beau chuckled lightly, his fingers tapping the chair’s armrest. “Look, I’m already retiring from the job – I don’t wanna retire from life,” he said. “Sure, for a long time, I wasn’t thinking about another kid, but Emily’s almost off to college. Would be nice to feel needed again, do it all over… I don’t wanna fish every day till I drop.”

You snorted a laugh.

“So? What d’you say?”

Biting down on your lip, you glanced behind you at the Airstream. Then you found his green eyes and grinned. “Yeah, I think we’ll definitely need a bigger place. Maybe something between a houseboat and a ranch?”

Beau could barely contain his smile but played along. “And what would that be?”

It ended up being a lake house. Beau fished every morning. You watched him and the sunrise from the window as you wrote your novel.

The baby arrived by next Christmas.

THE END

I think reader would be unstoppable in an Escape Room 😂

I so hope you enjoyed this last part, loves! What a wonderful journey it's been. Thank you to every single one of you from the bottom of my heart 🤍

And PS: I do have a little future one-shot in mind for them 😉

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[srldesigns6277]

Why is it that whenever I wish to scream, I am at work?

[wifeyoozi]

Imagine (gn!) you as the 14th member of seventeen and Jihoon your group mate has the biggest fattest crush on you. Everyone in the group knows this and finds it very funny because Jihoon is a loser who doesn't know how to act around his crush or show his feelings and you're an oblivious idiot who doesn't realise the very obvious fact that jihoon is wholly and entirely in love with you.

You two are always clingy to each other because Jihoon is your best friend (:D) and ofc you'd love spending time with him! And Jihoon is just going with the flow trying to ignore hoshi and dk who're constantly at his ass to tease him about it. You are almost like a couple in everything you do except you are just two best friends in a group.

So time goes by (prolly years, let's say) and eventually jihoon does some shit and confesses to you and you two start "officially dating". You tell the good news to your group but everyone is just so unsurprised with no trace of any reaction just ._. and jeonghan taps both of your shoulders appreciatively and says, "congrats, you two are the last to know that you are dating."

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

me stubbornly forcing myself to drink green tea and rest from my THIRD COLD THIS MONTH

[dxxtruction]

Personally, I think the “That’s how it happened right? You standing in my blood, stroking my hair?” Was how it happened. Louis is just super detached from that headspace he was in before, and validly wanting not to have it be true that he didn’t, at one time, care about Claudia being gone, would be reasonable, and in character. Blaming Armand, partly, for why things got to be like that is correct. Though in this instance is misdirected to include things Armand did not in fact do to get it to be like that, but had, very much, done in a recent unrelated incident. He's essentially combining two events together to get it to align with his current set of beliefs. (Surely everyone's looked back on a situation before and saw it differently given time to think or feel differently about it. Get differing information, and so on. The show is directing us to that a lot, if not making it one of its major themes.)

But I say this is probably, almost definitely, the case, because Louis story beats need to be told accurately lest it take away from his character arc, as well his whole character and its complexity. Obstructing from his, very powerful, highly emotionally driven, story in a way that's frankly offensive. Armand having total and complete control over it, is bullshit. While, he does this though, to himself. Does a character armor on himself to get away from his own flaws, and role, in how things came about. Not intentionally, because it is emotional, and a lot of times just a result of blocking out that trauma. But this is something he’s seen doing often - Not remembering situations in the light in which they’re most accurate, and in so doing painting himself better sometimes, and others worse. Straight up forgetting, or overlooking information, and so never reevaluating why certain things came about until this moment. Not accurately applying the emotions of then, to the way he feels about it now, because he can't, or couldn't previously, actually remember it in that way. As he doesn't connect to those feelings, even those memories. His feelings in a lot of ways keep clouding his memories and his judgments of them.

Daniel gets at this too, where he brings up the tapes, and how Louis was basically just raving the whole time, and this story all happened differently then. It's the same story beats, yes, but it's all so emotionally different to the point where information gets completely changed around, even looked at like it's forcefully constructed to be a certain way, and not actually, therefore, accurate. Louis always tells an emotional story, and that’s important. It places him in time and continuum, in his own history as opposed to outside of it. That’s like, I think a history that can’t be overlooked, even if it's a history that's subject to change. And shouldn't history be? Shouldn't we look back on events that took place in our lives differently? Isn't that how any society grows? And why shouldn't Louis judgments be clouded by his emotions when that's the reason for most any other characters actions? Isn't that the story being told here?

[shima-draws]

Grips my shirt and tears it apart so that all the buttons go flying and SCREAMS I love Law and Cora so much what the FUCK!!!!