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jaehaeryshater · 3 days ago

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The King Come Over and his bride Ygritte Firekissed

art by : @shripscapi

Look at my King dawg we’re definitely getting through the Wall!!!

For the last month and a half, I have been working closely with Liesl to design concepts for Jon as King Beyond the Wall and Ygritte as his Queen. Personally, I’m not invested at all in Jon becoming King of the Seven Kingdoms despite him being my favorite character. He’s not very connected with the South and I don’t feel that it’s his birth right or anything, even being the son of Rhaegar. I am significantly more interested in him becoming King in the North, but my interest in Freefolk culture has led me to be far more invested in the idea of him rejecting Southron society as a whole and becoming King Beyond the Wall (this isn’t necessarily mutually exclusive to being King in the North later on).

The motivation for Jon becoming King as opposed to Mance stems from a theory that has been around since AGOT has come out: that the Others will only treat with/negotiate with a Stark. In the prologue of AGOT, when the Others are speaking among themselves before killing the Watchmen, what if they were confirming with each other that Waymar Royce was not a Stark and that they could go ahead and kill him? All in all, it doesn’t really matter if this is true, but rather that this is a plausible rumor that could easily have been passed down among the Freefolk which could lead Mance to conclude that Jon as a leader would give the Freefolk the best chance of survival. It’s not very hard, at least in my opinion, to imagine an AU like this, since survival is the most important thing to the Freefolk during the events of ASOIAF. But is it plausible that under these circumstances that Jon would abandon his Night’s Watch vows? I think so if he can be led to believe that only Stark blood could defeat the Others, but that is not the only factor. Jon Snow is insecure about his bastard status, plain and simple. He’s always lived in the shadow of his Robb, though he loved him. He’s wanted Winterfell, though he didn’t want to nor had any intention to take it from Robb. But he’s known since he was a small boy that he could never Winterfell and that would never inherit anything because he was a bastard. Jon also has thoughts, at least in passing, that Ned loved Robb more than him. He perceives Ned as having been more proud of Robb, of looking at him differently than himself. He’s seemingly always believed this, but there is a sort of confirmation of Jon’s feelings when Ned allows him to join the Night’s Watch without much preparation on what the Watch is actually like. Fully me making assumptions here, not something Jon has explicitly thought, but it’s unlikely that Ned would have sent Bran off at 14 to the Watch without much warning of what it was like, had Bran not become paralyzed. While we never get this exact thought process from Jon, in my opinion it fits into his psychology and insecurity. All this to say, if Jon is offered to be a figurehead, King, a title equal to his brother, but without taking anything away from the Starks or from Robb, that would almost certainly scratch that itch in him. It would be of his own merit, and there would be people behind him that don’t care that he’s a bastard, don’t see him as less than, and are willing to accept him for who he is. Not to mention that it also lets him feel like a hero and as if he is saving something far more precious than himself. And it probably doesn’t hurt that he would be able to remain with Ygritte as well.

We know from the descriptions of Mance and Dalla, as well as from being told directly by the former, that the King and his wife dress like all the other Freefolk, in thick furs. While the Jon and Ygritte arts from above are not particularly ostentatious by Southron standards, they are in obvious contrast to how Mance and Dalla are dressed. My idea was that Jon, having lived South of the Wall in a Lord’s keep all of his life, brought his own ideas to the Freefolk and added a distinction between a King and all other men. Nothing like in King’s Landing, all changes are inspired by his experience at Winterfell. I tried to think of what was achievable by the Freefolk, that would be difficult enough that it can’t be easily replicated for everyone else, but also keeping in mind of what could be done relatively quickly seeing as the Freefolk are focused on migrating South and saving themselves from the Others. The cultures I took inspiration for the clothing from are the Byzantines, Russians, Incans, Aztecs, and Mongolians. I wanted more “open” and flowy clothing, as opposed to more closed off and excessively modest clothing of 1300-1500s Europe that most of Westeros is based off of. Ygritte is still wearing furs, but they are dyed and there is weirwood embroidery in symbolism of the Old Gods and flame embroidery to symbolize her being kissed by fire. Her jewelry are simply clay beads that have been powdered blue. I didn’t want to give her any jewels as I felt it would be too difficult for the Freefolk to cut them directly and just overall would be against the spirit of the Freefolk. However, getting the blue on the clay like that still would be expensive and take a lot of time. I tried to keep the main color scheme surrounding gray as obviously that’s House Stark’s color. Jon’s clothes are similarly nice, with my main concern being him looking intimidating. I want the furs around his shoulders to be black because I wanted to call back to his time in the Night’s Watch without him keeping his psychical cloak, because I’m sure the Freefolk would not want him to do that. The furs are massive and make his shoulders look far larger, in an effort to make him look more intimidating, especially on a battlefield or in negotiations. He also has weirwood embroidery and his sigil is on the front of his outfit (my original idea was for him to have a flag with his heraldry on it, in which case the sigil would have looked far different, with a full length direwolf). There’s a white wolf on one side and either a crow or eagle on the other side (up for interpretation, both are relevant to Jon and one is one of the animals that can be used a symbol of the Freefolk) and the flame in the middle to represent Ygritte. The sigil is more than about Jon, after all, as it’s for the entirety of House Whitewolf, the House he founds. I thought the name fit far more in to Freefolk culture than something like Whitestark or something along those lines. Ygritte was supposed to have sewn on the sigil herself, and was very adamant about it, and that is meant to be why the thread is uneven and more visible than it ought to be. She’s not very good at the craft!

As I indicated before, crowns are not something common to Freefolk. That would be something else Jon would implement. Ygritte’s crown is very much like a hat, very casual. The beads are nice but obtaining them wouldn’t be unheard of, and holly most likely would not be particularly hard to come by. The reason I gave her a crown with holly is that during Christmas in the Tudor period and even before during pagan celebrations, people would go out into the woods and find holly and ivy to decorate their houses with. Holly was a symbol of masculine energy and ivy feminine energy. If you found more holly, it was meant to indicate that the man would rule the household for the year, and if you found more ivy then the woman would rule the household in the coming year (this was a way to “tell the future” not a rule lol). I liked the holly better for Ygritte so I’m just saying the Freefolk had the opposite belief. Jon’s crown is made of weirwood, which was important to me as I feel like his connection the Old Gods is also important as it is something that him and Freefolk both use to guide them. It ties them together. That being said, a weirwood crown is often used for Bran so I did not want to use a design that was too similar to the one used for him. Bran’s weirwood crown usually is made of weirwood branches, however, and not weirwood bark or logs, so I feel like it’s different enough. The frozen weirwood sap, as far as I know, is also unique to this design. There’s also some ivy to parallel with Ygritte’s holly.

The remaining bits and bobs I wanted to explain are the blue rose and then the face paint. The blue rose is obviously something associated with Lyanna Stark, who is widely accepted to be the mother of Jon Snow. I originally wanted to give him a rose somewhere, whether he was holding it or it was in his embroidery, but I forgot to ask during sketching, and then it was too late. But Ygritte holding the blue rose isn’t just about Lyanna. It’s also about Bael the Bard, a most likely fictitious person (or at least, the tale is fictitious, though I personally choose to believe it’s real) that went South of the Wall posing as a bard. He impressed the Lord of Winterfell so much that he granted Bael anything he wished; all Bael asked for was the most beautiful flower in Winterfell. This was granted for him, but the next morning he had stolen the Lord of Winterfell’s only child, a girl, and had left the flower in her bed in her place. He hid in the crypt with her for a year and they had a son together. Bael eventually went back North of the Wall and eventually Winterfell, having no other heir, passed to Bael’s child. Under this story, Jon is descended from Ygritte’s idol (maybe idol is stretching it, but she really likes him), Bael the Bard. Not only him, but all the Freefolk including Ygritte, according to her story. Following the story’s premise, Jon also poses as Bael and Ygritte as Winterfell’s daughter, with Jon joining her home under false pretenses and “stealing her”, as she calls it. So the blue rose has significance regarding both the Starks and the Freefolk. The face paint is inspired by tattooing done by cultures indigenous to North America. Indigenous Americans are not the only groups to use facial tattooing, the Vikings were famous for it as well, but Viking facial tattooing had more patterns based on shapes rather than lines and dots. I didn’t like the shapes so much, but the chin tattoo was one was that observed in all sorts of different cultures. Usually the chin tattoos with the line were on women in indigenous America, but I found some on men in other outside cultures. The dots I didn’t see outside of Native American culture and the claw marks on Jon’s cheeks I found mainly among Vikings. Because these all are an amalgamation of different cultures, we did them as face paint instead of tattoos because it seemed disrespectful otherwise. Not enough research went into it to be a proper representation of any one culture so paint was a better bet than a permanent body modification that is sacred to a number of cultures. The only thing that was meant to be a tattoo was the chin tattoo, which like I said, actually is from an amalgamation of cultures. Among the Freefolk (in this AU), dots on the cheeks are widespread, one of cultural mainstays of their people, and are generally a sign of peace, whereas the claws are meant to look intimidating and is applied to look like blood (Ygritte applies it for Jon) and is specifically used for military leaders. I really wanted to drive home the point that the goal with Jon’s whole look is to look fearsome.

I have so much more to say about Jon as King Beyond the Wall, how he negotiates with the Wall, the different rules he sets in place, how he sets up being King as a hereditary title once his daughter Bael is born, etc etc, but then I’d be here all day and approximately one person total read through all this. Oops! Ask in my inbox if you have any questions because I would love love love to answer them. All in all, shripscapi (Liesl) is so talented and she worked incredibly hard for me. She was extremely accommodating and changed as much stuff as I wanted. She never complained about the million times I decided something was not quite right and she sent me so many updates. I would recommend working with her to just about anybody. It was very cool what she was able to achieve and I got it in time for the holidays so I can enjoy my winter themed pfp on twt. So thank you from the bottom of my heart Liesl, and I hope everyone showers her with compliments because she deserves it. I also hope that people that don’t enjoy Ygritte very much can still appreciate the art and the concept of Jon as King Beyond the Wall. Hopefully I’ve gotten across how much I love and care for these characters to a chronically online degree and nobody accuses me of mischaracterizing them because that would make me!!!! very sad!!!

Bonus Jon with weirwood leaves:

#asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #game of thrones #jon snow #ygritte #jon x ygritte #jongritte #valyrianscrolls #fanart #asoiaf fashion #asoiaf meta

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essektheylyss · 2 days ago

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My thing about Veth potentially venturing into polyamory is that I do think everyone involved would be perfectly fine with it and happy to help her experiment, and I think that no matter how they do it, it would not fix her. This isn't to say that she wouldn't get any benefit out of trying! It's just to say that it's not a solution to her actual problem, because I genuinely don't think the problem is that she's lacking any one thing that would make her life complete.

Fundamentally, I think Veth struggles with the idea that there will come a point at which she has to settle. Not in a bad way, just in the sense that she is one person with one life and she will have to live within those bounds. Because the thing is, I don't really think her issue ends at struggling to "have it all"; to an extent she does! She is a good parent, even if her kid is a little rebellious; her marriage is supportive (and has fun sex); she gets to go off to save the world with Yeza's blessing on occasion, when the world needs saving. She doesn't have all of these things all the time, but... that's not really a flaw, that's just a fact of life.

But she started out her adult life settling to an extent—even if she loved Yeza and loved being Luc's mom, she did the safe thing that was expected of her. The goblin attack and everything that transpired after shoved her out of that life, but in retrospect, to an extent it likely feels that that pushed her to find something more that she wouldn't have had otherwise. Being pushed to her limit under the worst conditions made her better, stronger, braver, and at the end of it she found that she could have both her original life and much of her new life—so why wouldn't she then wonder if further experiences of that ilk could do the same?

Crucially, she has not actually run up against a hard limit yet, and as such she hasn't had reason to believe that there is a point at which she has to stop and recognize that there isn't more for her to find. When she was drinking more heavily during missions, even when it caused the death of herself or others, there were no long-term consequences. And the thing is, I'm not saying that she should face that kind of major consequence, but she seems as though she is scared to accept that maybe she could be happy if she stopped before she does.

I'm also not suggesting that she should stop experimenting or trying new things—the Luxon knows I am not one to talk in that realm—but I do think she is searching for novelty not because that would make her happy, but because she doesn't believe that she has the capacity to know what would make her happy. She was unaware that polyamory was even an option, so think of what else she might not be aware of! She doesn't have perfect knowledge of the world, after all, so how can she trust that she's found what she really wants? So yeah, she could fuck someone else, and it might even be an enjoyable experience that she didn't know was missing! But that only prolongs the question of what else she might be missing.

I think that deep down, she's terrified that if she doesn't keep pushing until that external hard limit, she will end up with regrets later, and simultaneously she is resentful that her friends all seem to have reached a point where they are largely content with what they have, because she wants them to have everything. She wants herself to have everything. And she has not yet allowed herself to come to terms with the fact that only she can determine when the everything of what she already has is enough, and anything else is the cherry on top.

#but also she should still try polyamory. because it'd be very funny.#I just think she should corner essek with a knife after sleeping with caleb like 'SURELY YOU WEREN'T ACTUALLY OKAY WITH THAT YOU LIAR'#(because she still feels guilty and unsatisfied and she couldn't possibly be the one keeping herself from being content. nosiree lmao.)#but in all seriousness hilariously I think she should talk to essek about it cuz I think he would actually relate most lmao #and he does seem to be doing well with it! like he's living within the bounds of what will keep him alive sure #but he's also doing so in such a way that's like #I can't have my cake and eat it too but I can be content eating the cake #like look. as an essek girlie. do you think I do not relate lmao. BUT the important point is that it really is up to you #you can do what you want forever! but you also have to live with that.#critical role #cr spoilers #cr meta #veth brenatto

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anpanman95 · 3 days ago

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I actually have no words right now I am speechless BUT I currently need to find the brain responsable for this specific moment on the script and make out with it asap.

Let’s talk about it cause I am IN TEARS and I’ll explain why at the end of this post.

first of all THANK YOU for the most iconic fucking moment in the entire show.

HONESTLY BECAUSE WHAT THE FUCK???? They left me GAGGED. Absolutely speechless, mouth open catching flies and all, because of the brilliant full circle moment they gave my man right. here.

HIS REDEMPTION

You’d think, of all the words to misspell he’d never misspell that one????

of course he did that on purpose, it’s THEIR THING and Jack would have gotten it IMMEDIATELY.

“is it spelled with an S?” I need to bow down to them. Because this man right here outplayed the smart, outplayed those who looked down on him, outplayed everyone in their stupid, condescending game.

[side note and im 100% sure Jack here is trying hard to figure out whether to facepalm or kiss the fuck out of his boyfriend (of course he does the later)]

But the perfect bow, the tastiest cherry on top to this perfect scene is War’s adorable fucking sorry.

DO YOU ALL GET IT???

It’s an immaculate culmination for Joke’s english arc because English is one of the fucking foundations for Joke’s insecurities.

The dumb thief that bested every single person in the room by embracing his blatant ignorance and disregard for the language and thus, embracing who he really is, someone he is proud of being.

how about I kms how about that

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whatiswrongwithpeople · 2 days ago

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Unspoken Understandings

part 2 to “Shattered Silence” (Jayce Talis x reader)

Part 1

Summary: After that fateful night in the lab both ,Jayce and you, have been unsure how to address the sudden shift in your dynamic. However, sometimes all it takes is a certain yordle to force Jayce to take a break from his work and leave the lab.

Warnings: none, no spoilers for s2, no canon plot, a good amount of domestic fluff

Notes: I am really REALLY surprised about how much love “Shattered Silence” has received and hope that you enjoy this follow up just as much. <3 Once again , this has been written in my notes app, I hope I didn’t miss any mistakes.

Tags🏷️ @a-queen-blr @anxious-doodler @brabuscoffwe

The days after the break-in were a blur of frantic packing and moving. You had to find a new place fast—nothing too fancy, just something safe, something that could hold your things and the remaining bits of your research. But the weight of it all pressed down on you, your muscles aching from days spent running between your old and new apartment. You didn’t have the luxury of time to process what had happened the night you stormed into the lab, or even think much about him.

But the nights…

The nights were when you couldn’t stop thinking about how, despite everything, Jayce had held you. How, for a brief moment, you had leaned into him without fear of rejection. You’d allowed yourself to feel vulnerable, and he hadn’t pushed you away.

Now, you found yourself trying to ignore the gnawing feeling in your chest every time you thought about him, but the silence between you both felt suffocating.

Meanwhile, Jayce had buried himself in his work. The breakthrough he’d been chasing for months was nearly within reach, and that goal, that obsession, kept him up at night. But even as his mind raced with equations and possibilities, something nagged at him—a thought that he couldn’t shake, no matter how hard he tried.

It had started that night when you had collapsed into his arms, your trembling form clinging onto him like a lifeline. The way your body had felt in his embrace, how you had allowed him to hold and comfort you… something about it just felt right. And the days since? It was almost like he couldn't think straight without you. Your presence had become something he couldn’t quite get out of his head. Every time he closed his eyes, your face would appear—raw, vulnerable, but somehow more real than anything else in his life.

But what exactly was that thing between you? Was it something real, or just the aftershock of an unexpected and stressful situation? Jayce couldn’t even bring himself to ask.

---

It was late when Heimerdinger found him pacing in the lab, his mind so tangled in equations that the pieces didn’t seem to fit anymore.

“You’re working too hard, Jayce.” Heimerdinger’s voice was calm, but there was a quiet insistence behind it. He hadn’t seen the young inventor so distracted in what felt like ages.

Jayce, who had been scribbling furiously on a piece of paper, didn’t even look up. “I’m close to figuring this out. I just need a few more adjustments,” he said, but his voice lacked the usual tone of conviction.

Heimerdinger tilted his head slightly, his sharp gaze studying the younger man. It didn’t take long for him to figure out the nature of the inventor’s problems. “You were always quick to tell me how distracting it was when you were around her. How you could hardly think clearly when she was near.” Heimerdinger spoke , a nonchalant tone covering up the intention behind his statement.

Jayce froze, his pen hovering mid-air. He couldn’t remember ever having said that, but since the incident the times of feeling annoyed by you felt so far away. He wouldn’t be surprised if it was true. That really had been how he’d felt around you, hadn’t it? You had always found a way of breaking through his concentration, making him second-guess his thoughts and decisions.

But now? He didn’t feel distracted anymore. The thought of you didn’t pull him away from his work—it was more like you were... quieting the noise in his mind. Every time he thought about you, his thoughts slowed, calmed. The gears in his brain didn’t spin at a hundred miles per hour anymore. They… rested.

Sighing, Jayce met Heimerdinger’s knowing gaze. "It’s not the same,” he said, his voice quieter now, unsure. “It’s... different.”

Heimerdinger gave him a pointed look, crossing his arms behind his back as he looked up at the young man. “You’ve been working non-stop for days, Jayce. Sometimes the best breakthroughs come when we step away from the work for a little while. You’re going to burn yourself out if you keep this up."

Jayce opened his mouth to argue, but Heimerdinger was already walking toward the door. “I’m forcing you out of here. Take a break. Go see her,” he said, an almost cheerful tone in his voice. And with that, he was gone.

Jayce sat in stunned silence for a moment, the yordle’s words hanging in the air. Go see her? If he was honest to himself, he hadn’t even thought about it. A part of his mind harbouring a feeling of anxiousness regarding the inevitable confrontation. But something in Heimerdinger’s voice made him hesitate. It was as if the older man had seen through all the layers of self-doubt Jayce had buried himself under.

With the scrape of his chair he stood up. He needed to get out of the lab. He needed to breathe. He needed to see you.

---

It wasn’t hard to find your new place. Jayce had always been able to track down anything and anyone, with ease—Piltover wasn’t exactly a large city after all.

But as he stood outside your new apartment, his stomach churned. The weight of everything he had avoided saying hung over him like a dark storm cloud. He had no idea how this would play out—what could he even say? That he hadn’t been able to think straight since the night you’d come to him? That he’d wanted to be there for you, but had no clue how to navigate what had happened between you both?

But before he could completely lose his nerve, the door to the apartment opened, and you appeared.

You looked… tired. Your hair was pulled back in a messy up-do, and your shirt was slightly wrinkled, but there was something comforting about the chaos surrounding you. Not wanting to stare , his golden eyes quickly drifting to the space behind you. It was clearly your place now, your sanctuary, but it was still a work in progress.

You saw him before he could even open his mouth to say anything, and a flicker of surprise crossed your face. “Jayce? What are you—”

“I—uh, I came to check on you,” he said, running a hand through his hair, suddenly awkward. His nervous gaze switching back and forth between you and the wood on your door. “See how you’re doing… with the new place and everything.”

You raised an eyebrow but stepped aside, allowing him to enter. “Well,” you said with a tired half-smile, “it’s been a lot of work. Still don’t know where half my things are.”

Jayce chuckled as he stepped inside, closing the door behind him. His mind reeling at how your presence suddenly made him feel less anxious, like he didn’t have to carry his burdens anymore . Not here, not now.

You motioned toward a pile of boxes in the corner of the living room, your smile sheepish, almost apologetic. “You wouldn’t happen to be good at putting together furniture, would you?”

Without a second thought, Jayce was moving toward the pile, rolling up his sleeves with a quiet determination. “I can manage,” he said with a grin, glancing back at you. “But only if you promise not to laugh at my attempts.”

You smirked, feeling a flicker of warmth in your chest. “No promises,” you teased, but there was a lightness in your voice now where tiredness had been before.

For the next few hours, the two of you worked side by side, not really talking, but filling the space between you with easy silence. There was something almost intimate in the simplicity of it—a shared task, each moment feeling like it stitched something new into the fabric of your newfound connection. The screech of a screwdriver, the soft clink of metal against wood, and the occasional, shared chuckle when one of you fumbled—it was like you were building something together, but not just the furniture. It was this. Whatever it was that had started to grow between you.

You worked in rhythm, so comfortable with him that it didn’t even feel strange. You caught yourself looking up at him a few times, watching the way he moved, how the muscles in his arms flexed when assembling the pieces and silently admiring the way the light caught the lines of his face. Jayce wasn’t just the scientist, the bold, sometimes aloof figure you'd known—here, in this space, he felt… real. Vulnerable, even. The arrogant mask you had become so accustomed to had slipped away, leaving only the person beneath. And for the first time, you saw him as someone who was just as human as you.

When the last piece of furniture was assembled, both of you collapsed onto the couch. The apartment was still a mess, but somehow, it felt more like home now. After hours of unpacking, moving boxes, and trying to make sense of the chaos, you and Jayce had both reached a kind of quiet, shared exhaustion. There was something about the way the late afternoon light filtered through the windows—golden and warm—that made everything feel a little less overwhelming.

Jayce was beside you on the couch, leaning back against the cushions with his sleeves still rolled up, hair unkempt and his face still a little flushed from the work. Normally, by now you’d be bickering with each other, exchanging sarcastic remarks til one of you would have enough and storm out of the room. But ever since your distraught form had stormed into his lab, that usual dynamic was missing. The crackling back-and-forth had faded into something quieter, something more... honest.

“So, this is it, huh?” you said, glancing around the room. It was a mix of completed and incomplete, a snapshot of a new beginning. “Still a long way to go, but... it’s getting there.”

Jayce surveyed the room, his gaze lingering on the boxes and the half-finished furniture scattered around. “It’s... definitely not what I expected,” he said, his lips twitching into a smile. “You still got a ton of stuff for someone who has been robbed.” You laughed lightly, but it wasn’t a tense laugh like it would have been just a few days ago. It was more... genuine.

The silence stretched a little longer, and you found yourself thinking about how easily you used to hide behind the jabs and insults. You had both spent so much time pretending—pretending that you couldn’t stand each other, pretending like there was nothing more beneath the surface. But nevertheless, despite years of constant back and forth, Jayce had been the one your heart had led you to when your mind was in a state of absolute panic.

“You know, I’ve spent a lot of time pretending,” you said softly, looking at him from the corner of your eye. “Pretending like we couldn’t get along, pretending like I didn’t... care.”

Jayce’s eyes flicked over to you, something unreadable in his gaze. For a moment, he didn’t respond, allowing the truth to settle between you.

“I think I was pretending, too,” he said finally, his voice low and honest. “Pretending I didn’t want... this.” He gestured loosely between you two, his hand hovering in the air, as if the words were more difficult to articulate than the feelings behind them.

There it was. That truth you had both danced around for so long. And now, it didn’t feel awkward. It felt like a breath you both had been holding ever since Jayce had comforted you that fateful night, waiting for the right moment to exhale.

You turned toward him, your body instinctively moving closer. You didn’t have to think about it. The space between you was just too small now, too important to leave empty. As if by reflex, your hand reached out, softly brushing his arm, letting your fingers rest gently against his. The touch was tentative at first but you felt him respond instantly—his hand turning slightly, his fingers seeking yours, meeting you halfway.

It was subtle, a small connection that sent a rush of warmth through you. Neither of you said anything. The words didn’t feel necessary anymore. Jayce shifted a little, his knee brushing against yours, his hand gently drawing you closer. He wasn’t in a rush. You weren’t either. But as the space between you closed even more, something shifted, and you both knew the moment was right.

Jayce’s thumb traced along the back of your hand, his touch light but deliberate. Slowly, he turned toward you, his body leaning in, and you could feel his breath on your lips before his mouth even touched yours. It wasn’t a desperate move, but one full of quiet intent, like this was something that had been building between you for far too long.

His lips met yours gently at first—just a soft brush, testing, as though waiting for you to pull away. But you didn’t. Neither of you did. The kiss deepened, slowly, naturally. His hand moved to your jaw, tilting your head slightly as his other hand slid around your waist, his electric touch finding its way underneath your shirt, pulling you closer. The warmth of his body against yours felt so right, so easy, just like it had back in the lab when he had shielded you from your troubles, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You melted into him. There was no rush, no hesitation now. Just the soft pressure of his lips on yours, the tender way his hand cupped your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek as if memorizing the feel of of your skin underneath his fingertips.

When you pulled back, there was no immediate rush to fill the space with words. The air between you felt charged, but in a quiet, intimate way. You both breathed deeply, your lips tingling from the kiss, your pulse still racing a marathon in your chest.

Jayce’s hand lingered on your waist, his thumb absently tracing circles on your skin. “Guess we don’t have to pretend to not like each other anymore,” he murmured, his voice hushed, almost unsure, like the weight of everything was finally settling in. You shook your head slightly, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips as your hand found his again. “No. I guess not.”

Jayce leaned back into the couch, his body angled closer to yours now. His eyes twinkled with that familiar teasing glint, but there was something new in the way he looked at you. Something lighter. “So, dinner? I think I’ve earned it.”

You chuckled, your fingers still intertwined with his as you stood. “You’ve already helped me move half my furniture, Jayce. You’re definitely sticking around.”

He flashed you a relaxed grin, leaning back against the couch with a satisfied sigh. “Guess I don’t have a choice.”

Letting go of his hand, you turned toward the kitchen, starting to gather ingredients, and Jayce followed you, leaning in just enough to rest his chin on your shoulder. “Need any help?”

You glanced at him with a smile. “Unless you’ve got a Hextech gadget to chop vegetables, I’ve got it under control.”

Jayce chuckled and stepped back, settling in at the table as you started to prepare a meal. There was something comforting in his quiet presence, in the easy rhythm of the evening. You moved around each other effortlessly, the space between you filled with warmth rather than words.

Soon enough, you set the table and sat down together, the simple meal feeling more like a shared moment than just food. Jayce took a bite, then raised an eyebrow in approval. “I’m impressed. Didn’t expect you to be this good at it.”

You laughed, your fingers brushing his as you reached for your drink. “I’m full of surprises.” He smiled at that, his eyes lingering on your face , as if trying to capture the moment.

After dinner, you started to clear the table and do the dishes when Jayce moved to help. You smiled and gently took the dish towel from his hands. “I’ve got this,” you said softly. He gave you a mock pout in return. “I was just getting into it.” Looking up at him, you smiled fondly at his behaviour. “You’ve done enough for today.”

Jayce stepped closer, golden eyes soft as his hand reached out for the towel again. “I don’t mind,” he murmured, his warmth filling the tiny space of your kitchen and wrapping around you like a safety blanket.

“Thanks,” you whispered, cheeks burning with a soft blush as you suddenly felt the quiet comfort of his presence in a way that made everything else feel far away.

Jayce leaned in to brush a kiss against your forehead, light but sincere. “Anytime.”

And just like that, everything felt perfectly in place.

#arcane #arcane netflix #jayce talis #arcane x reader #arcane jayce #jayce talis x reader #arcane imagines #jayce x reader #arcane jayce x reader #jayce arcane x reader #jayce talis imagine

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wis-art · 9 hours ago

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Hai, I wrote this post with picture examples of me in replies being extremely transmisoginistic but the person blocked me, which, fair.

Anyways hi, I did not realize what role my post I made in 30 seconds would play in this all, and how my response to first contact with these posts of teans women's experiences was to make this post.

I saw posts of these women, being angry about being treated below Trans men, and expressing it in a very angry way and made a post expressing how that made me uncomfortable. Lately I have been finding that I am pretty slow, and that I really struggle to pick up on the true meaning of emotionally charged posts. Even if it is obvious.

I think it's important to talk about experience with transmisoginy, I think it's good Trans women are angry at being put below people, I think it makes people wake up to the idea that maybe our community isn't so perfect and that maybe we are experiencing oppression within it ourselves.

I won't deny that you got the reason why I made this post spot on, i think that wouldnt be very productive. This is a new and very important avenue of discussion and while I am slow and I didn't pick up on it and that this post isn't any less harmful to the discussion because I now know better, I want to let people know that I do know better, thanks to the discussions the women who expressed their anger and emotions held.

If not for the women talking about this, I wouldn't realize just how much internalized transmisoginy i carry around within me, I wouldn't realize just how little I value myself and how I have been conditioned to think I am below everybody. Something so obviously wrong, yet hard to see for me. So yeah. It sucks! And I can't really blame anybody for finding my takes, repulsive.

I'm sorry, I don't know how much weight these words really carry. I understand the issue at hand, I understand my role and how irresponsible with my platform I was. I understand why people are upset that this is the first thing I thought to myself is to tell these women to shut up, I think it's really telling. But posts like this, analyzing the mistakes and deconstructing misoginy however uncomfortable are very important, and make you realize how much the society and every interaction we ever experienced really imprints on us all.

If you don't fuck with trans men get the fuck off my blog, it's transfem and transmasc solidarity bitch 🖕🖕🖕🖕

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nejiverse · 2 days ago

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KIDS AND CARS

Toji Fushiguro

In which Toji who has been a father for six years is bested by his own girlfriend who has never been a mother. Fem! Reader

cw: none, im starting the ‘megumi being an expressive kid’ agenda 🫡

700ish words

Megumi was at that age where he rebelled against everything and anything Toji said or did. Frankly, it was starting to annoy Toji, he was starting to think his own son was trying to make his life a living hell on purpose

Then there was you who made it seem so effortless. Toji couldn’t comprehend why his six year old son only listened to his girlfriend

This particular day, Toji had an unimpressed look etched on his face as he folded his arms, leaning against the kitchen counter. He was clearly fed up

“You have to put your toys away Megumi, I keep stepping on them”, he tried to be somewhat nice, he really did. But the boy just flat out ignored him as if he was deaf or something, continuing to bash his toy cars against each other while mimicking explosion noises. He was sat comfortably on the living room carpet with not a care in the world

Toji felt like a vein was about to burst as his brow twitched involuntarily. “I’m talking to you brat”, he spoke sternly, his patience drawing thin

In Toji’s defence, the little boy’s cars were scattered absolutely everywhere, it was hard to walk by without stepping on one. Besides, he was only playing with three out of the millions of toy cars on the floor

“Don’t wanna”.

Toji itched his head and clenched his teeth. Since when did his little boy upgrade from a simple ‘no’ to a ‘don’t wanna’?

Without a doubt, out of all the opponents he had faced in his lifetime, Megumi had to be his biggest challenge yet

“Yeah well I don’t give a fu—”, before Toji could finish his sentence, a hand came over his mouth

“Be nice”, his beloved girlfriend had a frown on her face because of his vulgar language

Toji sighed, relaxing his facial muscles and unfolding his arms. “Yeah yeah”

The woman approached Megumi, crouching down beside him with two of his little toy boxes in her hands after overhearing the whole situation while she was tidying his room.

“Say Megs”, she started with the nickname he loved to hear. “I’m really bored right now, can you play a game with me?”, at the mention of a game, Megumi perked up, turning to face Y/n

“What game?”, he asked, curiosity evident in his big blue eyes

“Whoever can pick up the most cars and put them into these boxes in 30 seconds wins!”, she explained before feigning a sad expression. “Oh but I don’t think you’ll be able to beat me, I am a faster runner than you after all”

Megumi felt challenged. “Liar! I’m the fastest!”, he boasted proudly

She smirked. “We’ll see about that….3, 2, 1, go!”, and the both of them scrambled to pick up as many cars as they could from the ground

Toji watched in amazement how good she was with him without ever having any experience with kids. He definitely chose the right person to date

Later that evening, after Megumi was tucked into bed and the house was quiet (finally), Y/n got comfortable between Toji’s legs as he threw on a random movie.

“Thanks for earlier, I feel like Megumi has a secret vendetta against me at the moment”, he commented

She laughed. “Im sure he doesn’t, you just have to know how to approach him”, she leaned her head against his chest. “He really is a good kid”.

“Mhm”, he hummed against her neck as his head moved to rest on her shoulder, his arms slithering around her waist

“Makes me think we’d do alright with more, y’know?”, his hands moved under her shirt and massaged the flesh around her stomach

She couldn’t resist the smile that creeped onto her lips as she turned around in his arms. “Toji Fushiguro are you asking me to have your kids?”.

“Is that a yes?”.

Well, is it?

a/n: off topic but kinda wanna start writing for bleach now that im caught up with the newest season 🤭 (requests opened btw)

masterlist :)

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jmkjournalblog · 2 days ago

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Sweet thing (Part 2)

Part 1

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Fem!Reader

Word count: 4000+

Warnings: Smut, Power dynamics, Mommy kink, manipulation, mild Dom/sub elements, a lot of talking.

A/n: I couldn't forget this plot that came to me after watching AAA so, here we go. Btw English isn’t my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes.

It started with Wanda’s persistent nudging. The woman seemed determined to weave Y/N into the very fabric of Westview, her matchmaking efforts growing more elaborate by the day. When Wanda suggested that Y/N stay with Agatha for a while to "bond" and "learn a few things about life in Westview" Y/N had blushed profusely, her eyes darting to the floor as though the very idea embarrassed her.

Agatha had played along, smiling tightly and shrugging. “Well, if you insist, Wanda,” she said, her tone light, though she was inwardly wary.

Now, as Y/N stood on her doorstep with a small bag, Agatha found herself studying the girl more closely than ever.

“You’re sure about this?” Agatha asked, one brow raised.

Y/N nodded quickly, her cheeks pink. “I don’t want to be a bother,” she said softly. “Wanda just thought…” She trailed off, wringing her hands.

“Oh, don’t worry about Wanda,” Agatha said with a wry smile. “She’s always got some scheme or another. Come on in, sweetie.”

Y/N stepped inside, her movements hesitant as she looked around the cozy living room. Agatha watched her, noting the way her fingers brushed the edge of a chair, her gaze lingering on the trinkets scattered about.

“Make yourself at home,” Agatha said, gesturing toward the couch. “I don’t bite. Usually.”

Y/N laughed softly, though her blush deepened. “Thank you,” she said, sitting on the edge of the couch and folding her hands in her lap.

Agatha leaned against the arm of a chair, crossing her arms as she studied the girl. “So, what’s Wanda got planned for us? Baking cookies? Knitting scarves? Or is this just her way of keeping us both busy?”

Y/N smiled shyly, her gaze dropping. “I think she just wants us to… get along,” she said.

Agatha chuckled. “Oh, we’ll get along just fine, sweetie. As long as you don’t burn the house down.”

The girl was irresistible in her own way—timid, bashful, eager to please. She fluttered around Agatha’s house like a nervous sparrow, her wide eyes full of gratitude and uncertainty. It was disarming, this sweetness that seemed to radiate from her with every clumsy gesture and quiet laugh.

At first, Agatha had kept her distance, watching Y/N from behind her sharp smirks and probing comments. But as the day wore on, the girl’s earnestness began to wear her down.

By evening, Agatha found herself leaning back on the couch, a glass of wine in hand as she watched Y/N kneeling on the floor in front of her, sorting through an old box of books.

“You don’t have to do that, you know,” Agatha said, her tone warm with amusement.

Y/N looked up, her green eyes wide and innocent. “I don’t mind,” she said quickly, her hands pausing over a dusty tome. “I want to help. You’ve been so nice, letting me stay here and all.”

Agatha chuckled, swirling her wine. “Sweetheart, you’re practically falling over yourself to please me. You don’t need to try so hard.”

Y/N hesitated, her hands faltering as a blush crept up her cheeks. “I just… I want you to like me,” she murmured, her voice soft.

Agatha’s smirk softened, her gaze lingering on the girl. She set her wine down and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Oh, honey. I already like you,” she said, her voice rich and velvety. “Maybe a little too much.”

Y/N’s blush deepened, her eyes darting away as she fidgeted with the book in her lap. “You’re teasing me again,” she mumbled.

“Of course I am,” Agatha replied with a grin. “It’s adorable how flustered you get.”

Y/N let out a nervous laugh, the sound shaky but endearing. She set the book aside and shifted onto her knees, her movements hesitant. “You… you really think I’m adorable?”

Agatha raised an eyebrow, sensing the shy vulnerability in the question. She leaned back, her smirk widening. “Oh, absolutely. You’re like a little kitten, all wide eyes and nervous energy. Makes me want to… pet you.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, her hands twisting in her lap as she looked up at Agatha, her cheeks burning. “I… I don’t know what to say,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Agatha leaned forward, her hands resting on her knees as she studied the girl. There was something intoxicating about Y/N’s deference, the way she seemed to hang on Agatha’s every word, every glance. It sparked a possessive warmth deep in her chest, a need to see how far she could push this timid little thing.

“You don’t have to say anything, sweetie,” Agatha murmured, her voice low and smooth. She reached out, her fingers brushing lightly against Y/N’s cheek.

The girl’s eyes fluttered closed at the touch, her breath catching as Agatha’s thumb traced the curve of her jaw. She leaned into the caress, her lips parting slightly as if to say something, but no words came.

Agatha’s smirk softened into something more indulgent, her gaze lingering on Y/N’s flushed face. “You’re too cute for your own good,” she said, her voice a husky murmur.

Y/N opened her eyes, her gaze meeting Agatha’s with a mixture of nervousness and longing. “Agnes…” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Agatha’s name on her lips sent a shiver down her spine. She leaned closer, her hand slipping behind Y/N’s neck as she drew the girl toward her. Their lips met in a soft, tentative kiss, the warmth of Y/N’s mouth sending a surge of heat through Agatha’s veins.

Y/N gasped against her, her hands flying to Agatha’s arms as she clung to her, her body trembling. Agatha deepened the kiss, her fingers tangling in Y/N’s hair as she pulled her closer.

When they broke apart, Y/N’s cheeks were flushed, her breathing uneven as she stared up at Agatha with wide, wondering eyes. “I… I’ve never…” she began, but the words caught in her throat.

Agatha’s lips curved into a slow smile, her eyes dark with intrigue as she leaned closer, the warmth of the moment building between them. Her voice softened, dropping to a soothing murmur. "Oh, honey. Is that what’s got you so worked up?"

Y/N nodded, her gaze flitting nervously between Agatha’s eyes and her hands. "I just… I didn’t want you to think I was stupid or… or something." Her voice wavered, tinged with both embarrassment and vulnerability.

"Stupid?" Agatha let out a low, genuine laugh, her chest warming at the sheer adorableness of the girl’s nervousness. She reached out, her fingers brushing gently against Y/N’s cheek before tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Y/N flinched slightly at the touch, her lips parting in a soft gasp, and the vulnerability in that small reaction made Agatha’s heart skip.

"Sweetheart," she said, her voice a velvet murmur, "there’s nothing stupid about not knowing. It’s… charming, really." Her smile turned sly, a wicked gleam flickering in her eyes. "Besides," she added, her fingers tracing a slow line down Y/N’s jaw, "I happen to be an excellent teacher."

Y/N’s breath hitched, her wide eyes locking onto Agatha’s. There was a flicker of uncertainty there, but it was layered beneath something else—something that made Agatha’s pulse quicken. Y/N swallowed hard, her voice trembling as she asked, "You’d… teach me?"

Agatha’s smile deepened, satisfaction thrumming in her chest as she leaned closer, their faces mere inches apart. Her thumb brushed lightly over Y/N’s flushed cheek, the skin warm beneath her touch. "Oh, darling," she purred, her tone dripping with promise, "I’d love to teach you. But only if you want me to."

Y/N hesitated, her lips parting as though she were about to speak, but no words came. Instead, she nodded faintly, her eyes fluttering closed as her breathing grew shallow.

The moment stretched, thick with tension, until Y/N whispered, "I… I think I’d like that." Her words were so quiet that Agatha almost didn’t hear them, but the tremor in her voice sent a thrill racing through her.

"Good girl," Agatha murmured, her thumb brushing gently over Y/N’s bottom lip. Her hand tilted Y/N’s chin up, and she leaned in, her lips grazing Y/N’s in a kiss that was soft, tentative—testing the waters.

Y/N whimpered softly, the sound sending a jolt of heat through Agatha as she pressed more firmly against her. She guided Y/N’s chin with her fingers, tilting her head to deepen the kiss, and Y/N’s lips parted under the pressure, trembling but eager. Agatha slid her tongue past the girl’s lips, tasting her, savoring the soft, unsure noises that escaped her throat.

Y/N gasped into the kiss, her hands fluttering uncertainly before resting on Agatha’s shoulders. Her fingers clutched the fabric of Agatha’s cardigan, her body trembling as she leaned into the older woman’s touch.

"Relax, sweetheart," Agatha whispered against Y/N’s lips, her voice low and soothing. "Just let me take care of you."

Y/N nodded shakily, her wide eyes brimming with nervous anticipation. Agatha leaned back slightly, her gaze raking over Y/N’s flushed face, the way her lips were slightly parted, her chest rising and falling with each uneven breath.

Agatha’s hand drifted down, her fingertips tracing the curve of Y/N’s neck, the delicate line of her collarbone, before coming to rest on her trembling hands. "Give me your hand," she murmured.

Y/N obeyed immediately, her fingers light and hesitant in Agatha’s grasp. Agatha lifted the girl’s hand to her lips, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles before trailing her mouth down to the tips of her fingers.

"Have you ever thought about how sensitive your hands are, darling?" Agatha asked, her voice teasing.

"N-No," Y/N stammered, her gaze fixed on Agatha as the older woman took her index finger into her mouth.

Agatha sucked lightly, her tongue swirling around the digit, and Y/N shuddered, a soft gasp slipping from her lips. "You’d be surprised what a little attention here can do," Agatha murmured, releasing the finger with a soft pop and grinning at Y/N’s reaction.

Y/N’s breath hitched, her cheeks a brilliant shade of red as she stammered, "I-I didn’t know…"

Agatha chuckled, her hands slipping to Y/N’s waist as she drew her closer. "Oh, honey, there’s so much you don’t know," she said, her voice low and affectionate. "But don’t worry—I’ll teach you everything."

Her fingers slid beneath the fabric of Y/N’s sweater, palms meeting warm, smooth skin. Y/N inhaled sharply, her body tensing for a moment before melting under Agatha’s touch.

"That’s it," Agatha murmured, her hands traveling upward, exploring the gentle curve of Y/N’s waist, the swell of her ribs.

Y/N whimpered, her head falling forward to rest against Agatha’s shoulder. "It feels… different," she admitted, her voice trembling.

"Good different?" Agatha teased, her fingers brushing just beneath the hem of Y/N’s bra.

Y/N nodded, her breath warm against Agatha’s neck. "Y-Yeah. Good."

"Good girl," Agatha whispered, her hands sliding higher to cup Y/N’s breasts over her bra. The fabric was soft, yielding under her touch, and Y/N arched instinctively into her hands.

Y/N gasped, her hands clutching at Agatha’s sleeves as she trembled in her grasp. "Agnes, I… I don’t…"

"Shh," Agatha soothed, her grin widened as her hands skimmed along Y/N’s waist, her thumbs brushing slow, teasing circles over the soft fabric of her sweater. The girl trembled beneath her touch, her breath quickening, her chest rising and falling in shallow waves.

“You’re so tense,” Agatha murmured, her voice low and coaxing. “Relax for me, sweetheart.”

Y/N nodded, her lips parting slightly as Agatha’s hands slipped beneath her sweater, fingertips meeting warm, bare skin. The soft gasp that escaped Y/N sent a thrill through Agatha, her smirk deepening as she pressed her palms against Y/N’s ribs, sliding upward with deliberate slowness.

“That’s better,” Agatha whispered, her lips brushing against the curve of Y/N’s jaw. “Just let go. You’re safe with me.”

Y/N shivered, her head tilting instinctively to the side, exposing more of her neck. Agatha didn’t hesitate, her lips trailing along the delicate skin, leaving light kisses that grew firmer with every lingering touch. Her hands explored further, fingers curling under the hem of Y/N’s bra, testing the boundary before slipping beneath it.

Y/N whimpered, her body arching slightly into Agatha’s touch as her thumbs brushed over the sensitive skin. “Agnes…” she gasped, her voice catching on the name.

The girl’s breath came in shallow, trembling bursts, her hands clutching at the fabric of Agatha’s cardigan as if it were the only thing keeping her grounded. Agatha savored every reaction—the way Y/N’s body moved, the soft, stuttered sounds that spilled from her lips like a melody meant just for her.

“You’re so sensitive,” Agatha murmured, her lips brushing against Y/N’s temple. “So perfect. You feel how good this is, don’t you?”

Y/N could only nod, her cheeks burning as she whispered, “Y-Yes… It’s so much…”

“That’s the idea, darling,” Agatha said with a low chuckle. “It’s supposed to feel like this.”

She kissed Y/N again, deeper this time, her tongue coaxing the girl’s lips apart. Y/N moaned softly into the kiss, her body melting against Agatha’s as her hands moved to clutch at the older woman’s shoulders.

Agatha’s touch grew bolder, her hands skimming down Y/N’s sides, exploring every curve before settling on her hips. Her fingers teased at the waistband of Y/N’s skirt, brushing lightly against the bare skin just beneath it.

“Can I touch you here?” Agatha whispered against Y/N’s lips, her tone dark with intent.

Y/N hesitated, her breath catching, before nodding shyly. “Yes… Please.”

The eagerness in her voice sent a jolt of heat through Agatha, and she wasted no time, her hand slipping beneath the fabric to cup Y/N over her panties. The warmth, the slickness she felt there, made her smirk as she murmured, “Oh, darling, you’ve been wanting this, haven’t you?”

Y/N whimpered, her face burying in Agatha’s neck as her hips shifted instinctively toward her touch. “I… I don’t know what to do…” she admitted, her voice barely audible.

“You don’t have to do anything, honey,” Agatha reassured her, her fingers stroking gently, coaxing soft moans from the girl’s lips. “Just feel. Let me guide you.”

Y/N’s breathing quickened, her body trembling as Agatha slipped her hand beneath the thin barrier of fabric, her fingers meeting slick, heated skin. The first touch drew a sharp gasp from Y/N, her hips jerking involuntarily.

“So wet for me,” Agatha murmured, her voice laced with satisfaction. “You really are my good girl, aren’t you?”

The words made Y/N whimper, her hands gripping tightly at Agatha’s arms. Her head fell back against the couch, exposing her flushed face, her parted lips, as Agatha’s fingers moved in slow, deliberate strokes.

“You’re doing so well,” Agatha crooned, her thumb finding Y/N’s clit and circling it lightly. “You’re beautiful like this, you know that? Absolutely stunning.”

Y/N moaned, her body arching as she struggled to process the overwhelming sensations. “It’s… It’s too much,” she breathed, her hands clutching at Agatha’s sleeves.

“You can take it, sweetheart,” Agatha murmured, her lips brushing against Y/N’s ear. “Just let it happen.”

Y/N’s hips bucked against her hand, the heat building between them until every movement, every sound, seemed to reverberate in Agatha’s chest. Then it happened—Y/N’s voice broke on a trembling word, soft and desperate.

“Mommy…”

The room stilled for a beat. Y/N’s eyes widened in horror as the realization of what she’d said sank in. “I—I didn’t mean to—” she stammered, her face burning with mortification.

Agatha paused, then a slow, wicked grin spread across her face. “Mommy?” she repeated, her voice dripping with amusement.

Y/N groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Please, forget I said that!”

“Oh, no, sweetheart,” Agatha said, chuckling as she gently pried Y/N’s hands away. “You can’t just say something like that and expect me to let it go.”

“I didn’t mean it like that!” Y/N squeaked, her face crimson. “It just… slipped out!”

Agatha’s smirk softened, her hand stroking Y/N’s cheek as she murmured, “Relax, honey. I’m not mad. In fact…” Her lips brushed against Y/N’s ear, her voice a low purr. “I think I like it.”

Y/N froze, her breath catching. “You… you do?” she whispered.

“Mm-hmm,” Agatha hummed, her hand slipping back to rest on Y/N’s hip. “It suits you, darling. And me, too, don’t you think?”

Y/N hesitated, her blush deepening, before nodding shyly. “Okay… Mommy.”

Agatha’s fingers continued their slow, deliberate rhythm, tracing lazy circles over the girl’s clit. Each stroke drew a soft gasp or trembling moan from Y/N’s lips, her body arching into Agatha’s touch as if chasing more. The heat between them was electric, crackling with every shift of Y/N’s hips, every stuttered breath that escaped her throat. Agatha reveled in the power she wielded, her hand slipping lower to explore the slick, inviting folds beneath her fingertips.

Y/N’s thighs trembled as Agatha’s fingers teased her entrance, her movements unhurried but purposeful, testing her reaction with every touch. The girl’s wetness coated Agatha’s fingers, the tangible proof of her arousal sending a thrill through the older woman. With a deliberate slowness, Agatha slid a finger inside, the heat and tightness wrapping around her making her exhale sharply. Y/N tensed for a moment, a sharp intake of breath escaping her, before her body relaxed again, adjusting to the new sensation.

“That’s it,” Agatha murmured, her lips brushing against Y/N’s ear as she began to move her finger in slow, shallow strokes. Her thumb continued its lazy circles over Y/N’s clit, coaxing soft, breathless whimpers from her.

Y/N’s hands clung to Agatha’s arms, her nails pressing lightly into her skin as her body writhed beneath her touch. Her head fell back, her lips parted as quiet, desperate moans spilled freely from her.

Agatha took her time, savoring every moment, every reaction. She added a second finger, sliding them deeper, her pace measured but firm. The way Y/N’s walls clenched around her, the soft cries that escaped her lips—it was intoxicating, a symphony Agatha wanted to play forever.

The girl’s hips began to move in rhythm with Agatha’s hand, her body instinctively chasing the pleasure. Agatha leaned down, her lips finding Y/N’s neck, her teeth grazing the sensitive skin before soothing it with a kiss. Y/N whimpered, her hands fisting in Agatha’s cardigan as the sensations overwhelmed her. The steady, relentless motion of Agatha’s fingers against that sweet spot inside her combined with the teasing pressure on her clit to push her closer to the edge.

The tension in Y/N’s body built with every stroke, her moans growing louder, more desperate. Agatha’s grin widened as she felt the girl tremble beneath her, her thighs quaking as the pressure mounted.

“That’s it,” Agatha murmured, her voice low and soothing, though her fingers never faltered. She curled them slightly, pressing against that sensitive spot that made Y/N cry out, her back arching. Her thumb circling Y/N’s clit with just enough pressure to make her whimper. “Let go, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

The words were all it took. Y/N’s body tensed, her thighs clamping around Agatha’s hand as the wave of pleasure crashed over her. A strangled moan tore from her lips, her hips bucking as the orgasm took hold, overwhelming her with its intensity.

Agatha didn’t stop, her fingers moving gently to guide Y/N through it, her touch steady and reassuring. She kissed Y/N’s temple, her hand cradling her head as the girl’s body shuddered in her arms, her moans softening into breathless whimpers.

When Y/N finally stilled, her body going limp against the couch, Agatha withdrew her hand carefully, her touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary. She looked at Y/N, her face flushed and her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath, and couldn’t help the satisfied smile that tugged at her lips.

“Good girl,” Agatha murmured, her thumb brushing over Y/N’s cheek. The words were soft, almost tender, as she leaned down to press a lingering kiss to the corner of Y/N’s mouth.

Y/N barely managed a nod, her hands weakly clutching at Agatha’s cardigan as she whispered, “Thank you…”

Agatha’s hand lingered on Y/N’s cheek for a moment longer before she leaned back, brushing her hair away from her face. “Come on, sweetheart,” she murmured, her voice warm but firm. “Let’s get you settled upstairs. You’ve had quite the night.”

Y/N nodded sleepily, her face still flushed, her body pliant as Agatha helped her to her feet. The younger woman swayed slightly, and Agatha steadied her with a firm grip on her arm, guiding her toward the staircase.

The walk upstairs was unhurried, the house bathed in the soft, golden glow of dimly lit sconces. Agatha’s hand remained on Y/N’s waist, steadying her, the closeness oddly comforting. The stairs creaked faintly beneath their steps, the sound blending with the faint hum of the nighttime stillness.

At the top of the stairs, Agatha turned toward her bedroom. She pushed open the door, revealing a cozy space with dark wood furnishings and a bed neatly made with a deep plum-colored quilt. The air smelled faintly of lavender and aged books, a mix uniquely hers.

“You’ll stay in here,” Agatha said, her tone leaving no room for argument. She crossed to a dresser, pulling open a drawer and rummaging for something suitable. “Can’t have you sleeping in your day clothes.”

She returned with a pair of soft, well-worn pajama pants and a loose button-up shirt. Agatha handed them to Y/N with a smirk, her eyes flicking down to the girl’s legs. “These might be a little short on you, honey. You’ve got a few inches on me, but they’ll do.”

Y/N took the clothes with a shy smile, the faint pink still lingering in her cheeks. “Thank you,” she murmured, holding the bundle close.

“Bathroom’s through there,” Agatha said, gesturing toward a door on the side of the room. “Get changed and come back. I’ll grab some extra blankets.”

Y/N nodded and disappeared into the bathroom, the door clicking softly shut behind her. Agatha busied herself gathering an extra pillow and a quilt from the closet, her mind lingering on the events of the evening. The girl had melted so sweetly under her touch, her reactions raw and unfiltered. There was something deeply satisfying about coaxing such vulnerability out of her.

When Y/N returned, she was wearing the borrowed clothes, the pajama pants ending just above her ankles, the hem of the shirt brushing against her thighs. The fabric hung loosely on her frame, giving her an air of casual innocence that made Agatha’s smirk return.

“Not bad,” Agatha teased, tossing the quilt onto the bed.

Y/N ducked her head, a soft laugh escaping her. “It’s perfect,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Agatha chuckled, patting the space beside her on the bed. “Come on, hop in.”

Y/N obeyed, slipping under the covers and settling on her side of the bed. Agatha slid in beside her, adjusting the quilt before resting her head against the pillows. The space between them felt charged, but not uncomfortably so.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” Agatha murmured, her voice softened by the dark.

“Goodnight, Agnes,” Y/N replied, her voice small but content.

Agatha closed her eyes, her breathing evening out as the house settled into silence. Her body relaxed, lulled by the warmth of the girl beside her, her usual wariness dulled by the exhaustion of the day.

Y/N, however, lay awake. Her gaze flicked to Agatha, the older woman’s peaceful face illuminated faintly by the moonlight slipping through the curtains. Slowly, Y/N’s lips curved into a grin—a sharp, wicked expression that twisted her previously innocent features.

Agatha’s trust, her affection—it was all falling perfectly into place.

#agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha x reader #agatha harkness x reader #agatha x you #agatha harkness x you #kathryn hahn x reader #agatha smut #agatha all along

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pigeonentity · 13 hours ago

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i have coeliac disease. the only noticeable symptom i get from eating gluten is stomach pains about the same level as period cramps, which, of course, i assume are period cramps half the time, or ill think its just that i forgot to take my meds since i also get stomach pains for other reasons

ive been considered lucky for this, and, on a surface level, i am-- i dont have to deal with more pain than im used to, i dont vomit, and im glad not to have to go through that

but its still hurting me dangerously

others on here have said it but eating gluten as someone with coeliac disease damages you inside and stops you from absorbing nutrients properly. this is where i wish my symptoms were stronger. it took way too long to be diagnosed, but, more relevantly to this post, i have no fucking clue when ive eaten gluten. its still hurting me and i have no fucking clue

sometimes i will suspect that i ate something with gluten at a restaurant, but it is really hard to tell. when i order something gluten free, i really am trusting you to do this properly, because i have no way of calling you out on it unless im watching you do it myself

generally i will be trusting and assume its always a mistake if im served something i cant eat, but my friends dad has referred to me being coeliac as 'having foods i dont like' multiple times even though weve both told them and im realising there are a lot of people who think its like that too

eating gluten is dangerous for me regardless of whether or not either of us can see or feel it

DO NOT DO THIS.

This makes me so angry.

If you work in a movie theater and you do this I have no respect for you.

My younger brother is Type 1 Diabetic.

When we go to a movie theater, we always get him diet soda. If he were to get regular when we asked for diet, we would not give him the insulin he would need for it. If that happens, his blood sugar level could go so high he could go into a coma, go blind, or even die.

If somebody gave him regular soda instead of diet without telling us, that person could be responsible for a nine-year-old being killed or blinded.

Just thinking about that makes me so angry. I get scared every time we take him to a movie in case the people working there saw this picture and decide to do the same thing.

Please signal boost this so people know.

#important #coeliac #coeliac disease #celiac #celiac disease #allergies #i really fucking hate being coeliacccc #dear body please turn up the warning signs just a bit id like to be informed of my gradual murder

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ghouljams · 2 days ago

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The last CEO!Price drabble... Full body shivers I AM TELLING YOU oh my god it was just delicious 😭 When will it be my tuuuuuuurn

Also I'm fully willing to bet that Price is hard as rocks during the whole meeting imagining Reader sleeping on his office sofa surrounded by his things (!!!!) and goes over hoping to find Reader has mellowed out towards him buuuuuut

They haven't. The only reason they had to take that nap was that they are overworked, underpaid, and undervalued, and now that they've recovered from that momentary weakness they're ready to Create Hell

NO MR PRICE NO DINNER, WE ARE SITTING DOWN TO WRITE JOB ADS FOR ASSISTANTS FOR THE ASSISTANT RIGHT NOW

Oh it's torture watching you nod off, slowly being dragged closer and closer to sleep as the meeting wears on and on. Price can feel the way his cock strains against his slacks, the zipper threatening to bite him with how hard he is thinking about how vulnerable you are, how overworked you must be. God what he wouldn't give to pull you onto his lap and sink his cock into your warm hole, give you something to wake up for since clearly your job isn't enough.

But instead he sends you to his office to sleep off whatever lethargy has grabbed you on his couch. Which is almost as bad. He can imagine the way the leather sticks to your skin, the way your skirt rides up your thighs as you get comfortable, and your bodice pulling from of it's tuck to expose the top of your tights. Maybe you dragged the blanket off the back and you're slumbering under the afghan that's been soaked in his cigar smoke. Maybe you're nuzzling your poor sleepy head against the pillows, and maybe he's hoping that you were doing that to his lap, that he could fish his cock out and feed it to your sleepy lips. letting you suckle and lap at his cock with heavy eyelids and a dreamy sigh. Christ he's way too horny to focus on this meeting.

You are of course not taking him up on his offer to lend you the couch and trudged your way to the employee "wellness" room to curl up on the leather recliner and lock the door behind you. Overworked is right. Undervalued is an understatement. Underpaid... if anything you're overpaid, but you really should get a hefty bonus just for putting up with John Price's flirting.

He's more than a little disappointed to rush back to his office and see you sitting at your desk looking over powerpoint slides. At least you look a little better rested.

#cod x reader #x reader #captain price #captain john price x reader #captain john price #captain price cod #captain price x reader #john price #john price cod #john price mw2 #john price x reader #price cod #price mw2 #price x reader #ceo!price #assistant!reader #f!reader

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chocoqtelle · 2 days ago

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inner child pac reading

🦀 pile one,,

I know we're used to being super helpful, but it's good to help yourself too. you should always make sure you're okay first. It's important for us to be okay, even if other people don't think so. we should think so. things are gonna be okay for us. they always are. I want to do the things we like. I don't understand why you care about what people think now. I think we should try doing what we like more, even if it's embarrassing. it doesn't have to take a lot of time. it's just good to have fun sometimes. maybe you can get back into some of our old interests if you want?

it seems like this pile had to mature quickly and was overly generous in childhood. this likely led to some people pleaser habits. when the world said "be nice" and "care about others" you took it to heart, but it felt like you were the only one who did. you felt like you had to be the adult in your childhood and care for other people around you. for some of you, you may have had to care for a parental/older familiar figure or your siblings. you're used to changing your words and your personality to be more digestible and gentle because this strong fear of conflict. you were scared of people being mean to you, so you avoided making anyone mad. it was like you were always tiptoeing over eggshells. now, you don't have to, so there's no point in worrying about people who don't worry about you. you'd be doing yourself and your inner child a favor by doing what you want. it might feel wrong to be yourself, but at least try. I won't delve too much into this part, but I believe some people in this pile also dealt with being oversexualized or being hyper sexual at a young age. I think it's important to know you're more than what you can give others for this pile. please also take a break for the love of god.

🐸 pile two,,

It's hard to feel loved if nobody shows you. at the same time, i don't think I'd want to be loved. it seems weird and uncomfortable. I'm not used to it so it's scary. I still wish that someone would care at least. it feels like nobody else cares. I'm really tired of things being silent and boring all the time. I want to do something fun. I want friends but I want to be by myself. people think I'm weird, but I think they're the weird ones. they can avoid me but I wouldn't wanna be friends with them anyway. it doesn't matter if it's lonely, I don't feel less lonely around people anyway. some people think I'm mean. I don't think I'm mean. i heard I look mean or I act mean sometimes, but what if that's just who I am? I don't try to be mean to people. I just don't want people to hurt me.

holy neglect trauma... there's a lot to unpack here 😓 first off, I hope you're alright. it seems like this pile never really learned how to interact with people and is probably still a bit of a people hater. this pile has had to keep strong boundaries and walls on to protect themselves from unfamiliar experiences (being spoken to positively.) if you've never experienced something, it can be scary but you have to stop thinking every little thing is gonna go wrong in your life. it's fine. separate note but I think someone's ancestors are very present here, might want to connect with them if you don't already. you can try to shut down the feelings of loneliness and pretend connection won't help but it does. you're probably not connected with your inner child or you're ashamed of yourself for some reason. trying to be cold won't undo anything or save you from the feelings you're hiding. you'll have to acknowledge them at some point. escapism and forcing ignorance wont help forever. hopefully it'll be sooner than later, but that's your choice. it's okay to be soft, btw.

🐕 pile three,,

I know what I'm talking about. I'm serious. I wish people would take me more seriously. i get good grades, I study hard, I always prove how smart I am. for some reason, people still act like I'm too young and stupid to have opinions or that what I say is just silly, especially with emotions. they act like having emotions makes you a less rational person. some people look down on me for who I am, too. it's not something I can change. whether it's gender, age, or whatever, people always want an excuse to ignore how I feel or what I have to say. I know I'm right though. I don't want us to stop expressing ourselves. I wanna share how I feel to the world.

this pile is extremely opinionated and knows how to share their emotions. this pile is for the "bossy" kids who "should have been lawyers" or "a CEO" according to every adult around them. you were emotional as a child and it was always ignored or joked off as if your feelings were invalid. this pile is definitely natural-born leaders so if you aren't/never have been aspiration-driven or "extra" this pile probably isn't yours. the most healing thing you can do for yourself at this point is speak up. continue to speak about everything. share your opinion more, it's safe now and people will actually take you seriously. be emotional, be too much, be annoying, be talkative, be over-opinionated, be everything you feel like being and don't let anyone talk you out of it. lead your life how you want to. call everything out, even if it means being weird. I definitely feel like some people in this pile had the gifted kid experience or liked to read a lot when they were younger. there's also some unresolved anger that might need to be taken care of. I think speaking up more instead of bottling feelings up will definitely help that, though. you're not stupid or weak for being emotional. just be yourself unapologetically and that's the best thing you can do for your younger self.

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 2 days ago

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okey am curious miss raven, but what do you think about vil's uncharacteristic "KYAA" screaming from chapters 6 and 7 bc i was torn between concern and laughter

The context, for those who aren't aware: Vil happily squeals at the end of book 6 after Malleus restores his youth. Then, in book 7, Vil screams in terror as he falls from the sky (courtesy of Silver's UM). So we get to see what Vil's like when he's genuinely super excited as well as what he's like when he's afraid of something quite mundane.

I’m personally not a fan of Vil (I do not like celebrity characters), but I liked that we got a glimpse of his vulnerable side. It's such a contrast to how cool and put-together he usually is for the public and lets us know that he, too, is human.

In a way, that's sort of sad... Because of Vil's career as a child star, he has to maintain his image and be composed in all that he does. He has to be guarded to keep up with the pressure of the entertainment industry and act a certain way to keep up with the expectations of the public and his peers, who are constantly judging him. And now that the media has branded him as this mature, wicked beauty, it's hard for him to really be seen as something different. Someone gallant, like the heroes he wishes he could play. Someone cute and innocent-looking, like his long-time rival Neige. In the end, Vil is stuck with his assigned role and can't really deviate from it or risk harm to his reputation, since his audience might perceive that as a "mismatch". The regular Vil always gives off these powerful vibes, creating the impression that you're beneath him, that he's untouchable. But what his "kyaaa"-ing shows us is that he's a regular person too. He can be unbearably happy. He can be fearful and experience motion sickness. This is the Vil behind the lights, the cameras, the makeup. The Vil that he wishes others would see and give a chance to, rather than the villain they want to see.

... Anyway, that was a lot of words for me to say “I thought it was cute and very different from the usual Vil!” 🤡

#Vil Schoenheit #twst #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #notes from the writing raven #question #book 6 spoilers #book 7 spoilers #Silver #Malleus Draconia

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logos0 · 3 days ago

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Through the Storm

You had always hated storms. Not the ones outside—the crashing thunder and relentless rain were oddly comforting—but the ones that raged inside your mind. They brewed at inconvenient times, bringing doubt, anxiety, and an unbearable weight you could never fully describe. Being with Leah had always been your calm in the chaos, but lately, even she felt like a ship lost in the swell.

The rift started small—a disagreement over her schedule, a misunderstanding about a missed call. Leah was always busy. Between her training sessions and commitments to the England squad, it sometimes felt like you were just another appointment she pencilled in. You tried not to let it bother you, and at first it worked, but as time passed, you could not push down your frustration. Your feelings no longer simmered under the surface but started bubbling over at the worst moments.

It all came to a head one night after her return from an away game. You hadn’t seen her in weeks, nor had you been able to call her, and while you wanted to savour her presence, the frustration you’d been holding in came spilling out instead.

"You’re never here, Leah," you said, your voice trembling with both anger and sadness. "I get that football’s your life, but am I even part of it anymore?"

She stood in the doorway, her duffel bag slung over her shoulder, exhaustion painted across her face. "Of course, you are," she replied, her tone sharp with defensiveness. "You think I don’t miss you when I’m gone? You think this is easy for me?"

"Well, it doesn’t feel like it," you shot back, tears welling in your eyes. "You come home, and it’s like… I’m just a stopover before the next big thing. Like I’m not enough."

Leah dropped her bag and stepped closer, but you turned away, wiping your eyes furiously. "Don’t say that," she whispered, her voice cracking. "You’re everything to me."

"Then why doesn’t it feel like it?"

The silence that followed was deafening. Leah stood frozen, her eyes searching yours for something she couldn’t find. Those eyes which had pulled you into a ban so long ago and now were tormenting you. "I don’t know how to fix this," she admitted, her voice barely audible.

And just like that, the storm between you grew too wild to tame. Leah left that night, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the sound of rain pounding against the window.

The days that followed were agonizing. Leah texted you sporadically, but the messages felt hollow, as though she was trying to bridge a gap that words alone couldn’t mend. You left most of them unanswered, unsure of what to say—or if you even wanted to.

Until one night, a week later, when your phone buzzed with a message that was different from the rest.

Leah: I’m outside. Please, just… let me talk.

You hesitated, your heart battling between wanting to see her and wanting to stay angry. But the thought of her standing outside in the cold, waiting for you, tugged at your resolve. With a sigh, you grabbed a coat and opened the door.

Leah was there, drenched from the rain, her usually confident demeanour replaced with a vulnerability that caught you off guard. That reminded you of times long past. She looked at you with those piercing eyes, and for a moment, neither of you spoke.

"I know I’ve hurt you," she began, her voice steady but soft. "And I’ve spent the past week trying to figure out how to make it right. But the truth is, I don’t have all the answers. All I know is that I can’t lose you."

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat growing with each word. "Leah… I just feel so invisible sometimes. Like you’re here, but not really here. As if I am just another appointment, a chore."

She nodded, stepping closer. "I know. And you’re right—I haven’t been fair to you. I’ve let football take over everything, and I thought… I thought you’d be okay with that because you’re so strong. But I didn’t realize how much I was taking you for granted."

Her words hit you like a wave, and before you could stop yourself, you were crying. Leah reached for you, hesitating for a split second before pulling you into her arms. You let yourself melt into her, the warmth of her embrace cutting through the chill of the rain.

"I’m sorry," she whispered into your hair. "For everything. I don’t want you to feel like you’re not enough, because you are. You’re more than enough. You’re my everything."

You pulled back just enough to look at her, her face inches from yours. "I don’t need you to have all the answers," you said quietly. "I just need to know that you’re willing to try."

Leah nodded, her expression serious. "I’ll try every day for the rest of my life, if that’s what it takes."

Her lips brushed against yours, soft and hesitant, as if she were asking for permission to fix what had been broken. You kissed her back, the storm inside you finally beginning to settle.

The rain continued to fall, but for the first time in weeks, you felt like you could breathe again. Leah was here, and so were you—together, ready to weather whatever came next.

#leah williamson x reader #leah williamson #woso #woso x reader #leah williamson imagine

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