#love the things you love unapologetically

[sasheemo]

Long day, huh?

Pairing: Detective!Agatha (Agnes O'Connor) x Reader

Summary: Your girlfriend Agnes Agatha, lost to the Scarlet Witch’s spell, has no memory of you or the life you shared. But tonight, you have a daring plan to bring her back.

Tags: Smut, Established Relationship, Strap-ons (Rr), Car Sex

Word count: 6.9k

A/N: So, first Agatha smut! Hope it doesn't suck that bad - would love to hear your thoughts if you’re up for it 💜

Read on AO3

It’s torture, seeing her like this. Agatha, your Agatha, right there yet completely out of reach, trapped under the Scarlet Witch’s spell. You’ve been together for centuries, standing side by side through battles and blood, through the kind of love that’s spanned lifetimes. 

You were there when she first sensed something off in Westview, when she decided to investigate what was happening, and you offered to come along. But everything went south, and now she’s here, roaming around the streets of Westview every day as a ghost of herself, believing she’s someone else entirely. Every moment you see her as this rough, almost bitter stranger, this ‘Detective Agnes’, it drives a wedge through your heart. But tonight, desperation gives birth to a reckless idea: if she can’t remember who she is maybe you can make her remember.

It’a a Friday night, and the most popular bar in Westview is pretty packed, humming with a low murmur and the occasional clink of glass. 

You step inside, searching, and your gaze falls on her almost immediately. She’s right there, Detective Agnes, a rougher, possibly even quirkier version of the woman you’ve loved for centuries, sitting alone at the bar, absently nursing her drink. In the dim light, she looks as alluring as ever, though that familiar playfulness you knew is buried under layers of frustration and some sort of hard-earned dominance. And yet, you have to admit, part of you doesn’t mind it. In fact, you find yourself… intrigued. 

There’s something thrilling about this version of Agatha. Agnes is rough, unapologetically bossy, carrying that particular brand of perpetual irritation that somehow only makes her more magnetic. Not that your Agatha didn’t have these traits, but this… adaptation of her takes them to a whole new level.

You’ve always loved the way she embodied both her feminine and masculine sides so seamlessly, owning every part of herself with that perfect blend of charm, ambiguity, and raw sensuality that defies any simple definition. Agnes though, leans heavily into her masculine side, and you’re definitely not complaining. Not one bit.

You smooth down the short black dress hugging your figure, fingers adjusting the purple gemstone at your collarbone. With slow, intentional steps, you close the distance, sliding onto the stool beside her. The heavy air around her feels electric, an unspoken charge palpable even through her indifference. She’s flipping idly through a small notebook, likely filled with dead ends from whatever “case” has been haunting her lately.

You lean in, letting the bar’s low light and smoky scent curl around you both. “Long day, huh?”

She doesn’t look up right away. She lets out a sigh, flipping another page in her notebook before her gaze shifts in your direction, mildly annoyed. The moment her eyes meet yours, you feel a spark, realizing those mesmerizing blue eyes will always have the same effect on you, no matter what. 

“Would’ve liked to have a quiet drink.” she mutters, lifting her glass as if to punctuate her point. “Not exactly in the mood for small talk.”

“Good thing I’m not here for small talk, then.” You smile, tipping your head slightly, and you see her interest flicker, even if her eyes narrow.

There’s a beat of silence, her gaze lingering a little longer than necessary. She radiates that annoyed, no-nonsense attitude, but there’s something in the way she holds herself tonight that makes you wonder if there isn’t some part of her that still recognizes you, that feels the pull between you. You watch her expression, the rough angles of her face, the way she leans back, sizing you up with all the caution of a predator who’s just discovered someone bold enough to trespass.

“I don’t think I know you.” she says finally, a challenge in her voice.

Your smile doesn’t falter and you lean in just a little closer, enough to catch a whiff of her. Agnes carries this scent of cold air and something darkly earthy, stark and distant. It’s a sharp contrast to Agatha’s usual rich, heady fragrance, the kind that clings to your clothes and fills the room long after she’s gone. But somehow, this raw, unfamiliar scent only adds to her allure, drawing you in deeper. 

“Guess that depends on what you think you know.” your voice drops to a low, almost mocking purr, a faint smirk playing at the corner of your mouth. You hold her gaze, letting the challenge hang in the air between you, your eyes glinting with just enough mystery to keep her guessing.

She lets out a quiet, humorless laugh, but something in her eyes shifts, something curious, as if you’ve stirred something in her she can’t quite place. She looks at you a beat too long before shaking her head and turning back to her drink, as if trying to ignore that spark.

You watch her for a moment, her fingers curling around the glass, her body language guarded, closed off. But there’s that trace of interest, the smallest crack in her armor. She’s intrigued, even if she won’t admit it.

She might be Agnes right now, but you still know how to push her buttons “Looks like you could use a distraction, Detective. I’ve heard it’s been nothing but dead ends for you lately.” you murmur with a sly smile.

Her hand pauses on the glass. The annoyed look is back, but this time it’s different, that reluctant curiosity now obvious on her face. She sets her glass down with a thud, meeting your gaze head-on. “Careful, doll. I don’t do well with strangers thinking they know more than they should.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” You raise your hand, as if in surrender. “I just happen to know that sometimes the best way to clear a clouded mind is a little… fun.”

At that last word you can see her tense up, her shoulders straightening, gaze sharpening. A hint of a smirk crosses her face, but she quickly tamps it down. Agnes may be all business, but there’s a flicker of something in her eyes that’s raw, hungry.

“Dance with me.” you say softly, your fingers reaching out to brush the cool glass of her drink. “Who knows, might be exactly what need…”

She lets out a soft snort, like she’s about to dismiss you, but then she pushes back from the bar. Standing, she adjusts her flannel shirt, slipping the small notebook into the inner pocket with a quick, practiced motion as her dark eyes stay trained on you with an intensity that makes the air thicken. She’s a predator through and through, and for a moment, you feel the weight of her gaze like a physical thing, binding you in place.

She holds out a hand, and you take it, feeling her strong fingers and the roughness of her skin against your own. She pulls you toward a crowded corner of the bar where people are already moving to the low, steady beat thrumming through the room. Dim lights cast a warm, hazy glow, bodies swaying close around you, amplifying the charged atmosphere.

Agnes holds you with a firmness that’s almost possessive, both hands at your waist. Her gaze locks onto yours, and in this moment, she’s both a stranger and achingly recognizable, the rough edge of Agnes mingling with the soul of Agatha beneath. Every inch of her exudes assertiveness, her energy powerful and magnetic as her hands rest on your body with unbreakable certainty.

The dance starts slow, a sway more than anything else, but as the tension grows, she pulls you a little closer. Her gaze flickers down to the necklace at your collarbone, the deep violet stone a stark contrast against your skin. You catch the faintest twitch in her expression, her eyes darkening as she lifts her gaze to meet yours again. There’s a hunger there, a dangerous, simmering intensity that speaks of possession and intrigue.

“You’ve got a strange way of introducing yourself.” she murmurs, her voice low, carrying an edge of danger. “Most people don’t… walk up to me like this.”

You lean in, your voice a whisper against her ear “I’m not ‘most people’, Detective.”. You let that last word linger, savoring the irony of it, a faint smile tugging at the corners of your mouth as you think of the illusion she’s wrapped up in.

She chuckles, a rough sound that vibrates through you, and her hold on your waist tightens, fingers pressing into your skin through the thin fabric. “Maybe you’re just a little too bold for your own good.”

You don’t bother to reply, feeling the intensity between you coil tighter as her hand slips around to the small of your back, pulling you firmly against her. Her gaze holds yours, dark and fierce, that rough, predatory edge simmering into something more primal. The dance transforms, becoming less about the music and entirely about the electrifying connection between you, every look and touch stoking the fire higher.

You press closer, letting your hips grind against hers in slow, deliberate circles, matching the pulsing rhythm that fills the room. Each movement is calculated, provocative, testing the limits of her restraint. You can feel the tension radiate through her hands as they grip your waist, and her breath seems to hitch every time your body sways against hers.

In the dim light, shadows fall across her face, but her eyes glint with a deepening hunger. You reach up, one arm slipping around her neck as your fingers trace along her skin before threading into her hair. The contact is intimate, possessive, and she leans into it, visibly captivated by the press of your body and the brush of your fingers. With a mischievous smile, you let your other hand glide up her face, fingertips trailing along the line of her jaw as you bite your lip, savoring the spark of control you have over her. 

In an instant, something snaps. Agnes moves with a swift, unrestrained urgency, her hands locking onto your hips as she spins you around, pulling your back against her with a possessive force that steals your breath. Her body presses flush against yours, fitting perfectly, her grip on you strong and unyielding.

The rhythm of the music seems to fade as she matches your movements from behind, grinding into you in time with your slow, rolling pace. The friction between you is scorching, each press of her hips intensifying the heat building between you. Her hands slide along your waist, her fingers digging in as if anchoring herself to you, claiming every inch of space between you.

With Agnes pressed firmly against your back, one of your hands finds its way behind her neck once again, fingers weaving into her hair as your bodies move together, grinding in sync to the steady beat. The desire simmering between you is overwhelming, each movement intensifying the tension coiling in your core.

But as her grip stays firm on your hips, you become aware of something else, something hard pressing insistently against you. The firm, unmistakable pressure against your ass makes your breath catch in your throat, the perfect trigger for a molten rush to spread through your veins.

You glance over your shoulder with a smirk, voice low and teasing. “Is that what I think it is, Detective?”

The smug grin spread across her face makes it clear she was waiting for your reaction, every inch of her expression dripping with satisfaction. The look only fueling the heat pooling between your thighs. Her fingers travel up your sides, leaving a trail of sparks across your skin. She grazes just beneath your breasts, her touch light but deliberate, the fabric of your dress doing little to dull the fire she ignites. 

“Behave.” she whispers, her lips brushing the shell of your ear. There’s an edge to her voice, rough and commanding. “And maybe I’ll reward you.” she continues, a low purr full of promise.

But you’re here on a mission, not to behave. Definitely not to behave.

Letting the music and her warmth embolden you, you reach back with your free hand, fingers slipping between your bodies to trace a slow, tantalizing path downward. She doesn’t stop you, if anything, she presses in closer, her breath hot against your neck.

Your movements halt for a split second as your fingertips brush the cool metal of her belt buckle, a shiver running through you at the sensation. Biting your lip, you continue your descent, fingers tracing slowly along the rigid line of her zipper, feeling the unyielding heat straining against it. When your palm finally presses against her, you can feel the hard, thick bulge beneath the fabric, and the sensation sends a surge of desire straight to your core. A low, breathless moan threatens to escape, and you barely hold it back, relishing the sensation as the need builds, leaving you aching for more.

Your fingers trail along her length teasingly, taking your time, and you feel her body tense behind you, hear the soft, low growl in her throat. She drops her forehead to your shoulder, her breath rough as you continue your movements.

You tilt your head back, allowing her see the satisfaction in your eyes, a look you know will get to her. Her breath catches as your fingers continue to tease her mercilessly. “Mmm” you hum with deliberate appreciation. “I knew you’d be… impressive.” you murmur, voice low and dripping with praise.

The effect is immediate, and exactly what you’d hoped for. Her nails dig into your waist, her restraint slipping further as a husky sigh escapes her. She presses into you and raises her head to meet your gaze, the challenge in her eyes flaring, daring you to push her further. 

You’ve always loved how, deep down, Agatha is so desperate for praise. She always had that little spark of pride that flares with each admiring touch, each appreciative word. But with Agnes, that need seems to linger closer to the surface, raw and unapologetic. In this form, she practically soaks up every word, every look of admiration you give her, like she’s reveling in the attention.

She’s holding herself back, barely, and you can feel the restraint beginning to crack, the thrill of it washing over you as she takes one grounding breath. “Keep that up…” she mutters, her tone both a warning and an invitation, “and you’ll see just how impressive I can be.”

With her words still in the air, she thrusts her hips forward, grinding firmly against your hand so you feel the full, hard length of her strap straining through the fabric of her pants. Simultaneously, one of her hands moves to your throat, fingers curling possessively around it in a strong, yet gentle, grip. Instinctively, you arch into her touch, pressing closer, wanting to feel every inch of her as she is pushing against you. The sensation sends a jolt of pleasure through you, and you can’t hold back the moan that slips from your lips. 

Her body freezes at the sound, and for a heartbeat, everything is still. Then, without a word, she grabs your hand, her grip firm and unyielding as she pulls you toward the exit. You can barely keep up with her long strides as she navigates through the bar, her silence and focus only heightening the anticipation that’s been building between you. The moment you step outside, the cool night air hits you, sharp and bracing, a stark contrast to the heat coursing through your veins.

Agnes doesn’t pause as she leads you across the dimly lit parking lot, her hold on your wrist commanding, purposeful. But just as you near the shadowy corner where her car is parked, she suddenly turns, and with a fierce intensity, she presses you against the rough brick wall of the bar. The shock of the cold surface behind you only fuels the fire inside, and before you can catch your breath, her mouth is on yours.

The kiss is raw, unrestrained, her lips claiming yours with an urgency that’s nothing short of devastating. Her tongue parts your lips, exploring with a fierce hunger that’s both intoxicating and overwhelming, each movement igniting something hotter, deeper. She moves against you with a possessive need, her hand tangling in your hair as she tilts your head back, deepening the kiss even further.

“Is this what you wanted, huh?” she mutters against your lips, voice thick and dripping with need. Her other hand moves down to grab your ass, pulling you against her, her grip rough and unapologetic. You can’t hold back the gasp that escapes you, the thrill of it leaving you breathless.

Your hands find their way to her waist, fingers digging into the fabric of her shirt as you pull her closer, every inch of her body pressed firmly against yours. She tastes like whiskey and something darker, something that only fuels your desire, making you want more, need more. 

“Teasing me like that all night… you knew exactly what you were doing.” her voice is almost a growl against your lips, her frustration and need laid bare, her words punctuated with another possessive press of her hips.

Your heart races, and you find yourself grinning through the haze of desire. “Maybe I did.” you whisper, a daring edge to your tone.

Her smirk deepens as she leans in, mouth brushing against your ear. “Good.” she breathes “Because now… you’re mine.”

The intensity of her words leaves you dizzy, every nerve lit up, aching, ready for more. She slides a leg between yours, pressing firmly against you in a way that makes your instantly whimper. The sudden pressure tugging at your last restraints, making it impossible to hold back. You pull her into a fierce, consuming kiss, your mouths crashing together, hot and unrestrained, her taste filling all of your senses.

With a deliberate move, you catch her bottom lip between your teeth, biting down just hard enough to pull a throaty moan from her. The sound makes something inside you snap, a fire igniting that feels like it’s burning you from the inside out. You let your tongue glide over the spot you just bit, slow and teasing, savoring the slight tremor that runs through her in response.

Your eyes meet hers, hooded and dark with lust, each breath mingling as you hold her gaze, refusing to look away. “I want you to ruin me.” your voice is barely a whisper against her lips, but every word is thick with hunger. You let the desire in your eyes say the rest, the intensity of your gaze leaves no room for doubt, a challenge and surrender all at once.

You watch the way her pupils dilate, her eyes flashing with something feral and ravenous. Without another word, she grabs your hand again, leading you the last few steps to her car, parked in the shadowed corner with only a few other cars nearby.

As you near the car, you instinctively move toward the passenger side, expecting her to get in and drive you to her place at speed light. But Agnes doesn’t head for the driver’s side. Instead, she stops just behind you, her presence looming as you reach for the passenger’s door handle.

“Other door, doll.” she murmurs, her voice dripping with intent. A shiver runs down your spine as the implication sinks in. You glance over your shoulder, finding her gaze steady, intense, and unmistakably clear. She’s not planning on taking you anywhere.

You release the handle, heart racing as you step to the rear door, her gaze burning into you with every move. Inside of the car, the familiar scent of leather mixed with something distinctly “her” fills the small, darkened space. Agnes follows, sliding in close beside you, shutting the door to enclose you both in a cocoon of shadows and anticipation.

The air is charged with an unspoken understanding as her hand finds your bare thigh, fingers pressing possessively as she leans close, breath warm against your cheek. There’s a pause, enough to let you savor what’s about to unfold, before she brings her mouth to yours, claiming you with the raw hunger that’s been simmering all night.

Her hand starts to move in a slow, tantalizing journey upward, fingers tracing your skin and slipping beneath the hem of your dress, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. A soft moan escapes you, muffled against her mouth as her touch becomes bolder.

As her fingers graze your inner thigh, both firm and unbearably light, a whimper slips out of your lips. She pulls back just enough, gaze momentarily dropping to where her hand is inching closer to where you need her most, her breathing heavy as she watches you unravel beneath her touch.

Each slow, deliberate movement seems meant to drive you wild, her smirk making it clear she’s relishing each shaky breath you take. Without breaking eye contact, her hand ventures further, until her fingertips reach your clothed core, brushing against the patch of wetness that is seeping through the fabric. Her touch sends a surge of pleasure through you, hips arching as you crave more. She lets out a low, pleased hum, leaning close as her mouth grazes your ear.

“You’ve been waiting for this all night, haven’t you?” she whispers, her voice dripping with mockery and satisfaction, every word laced with a condescending edge that leaves you trembling. One of your hands grips the leather seat beneath you, nails digging in as you brace yourself, as the other slips between your legs, pushing aside your panties in a bold, undeniable signal. Agnes’s gaze flickers with mischief, her lips curving in a smirk at your willingness, at the silent plea in your eyes.

“Look at you…” she murmurs in that low, almost scolding tone that makes you clench around nothing. “Such a needy pet.” Her fingers finally dip down to graze your drenched folds, now exposed to her touch. Her fingers glide up and down with ease, a deliberate slowness that leaves you panting, every movement igniting raw need within you.

“Mm, so wet for me.” she whispers to herself, pressing her fingers a little firmer, coaxing a soft moan from you. Your grip tightens on the seat as your breathing grows ragged, her touch leaving you helplessly craving more, every nerve under her control.

Her movements are teasingly, atrociously, slow. An impatient thrill rushes through you, impossible to ignore, and without a second thought you straddle her lap in one swift motion. As you settle onto her, your dress rides up around your hips, baring more skin as your legs fall on either side of hers, bracketing her firmly on the back seat. Agnes’s eyes widen in surprise, excitement unmistakable as her hands find your exposed thighs, fingers pressing into your skin as you begin to grind against her.

The angle presses her strap perfectly against your core, each movement sending a pulse of pleasure as you rock in her lap, the coil in your lower abdomen growing tighter and tighter with every roll of your hips. A low growl escapes her as she watches you take what you need, movements relentless and hungry.

Lost in the moment, you wrap your arms around her neck, pulling her into a kiss that’s messy, unrestrained, moans spilling shamelessly between your mouths. “Fuck… I need you.” you murmur, hips rolling harder in her lap, grinding with a desperate rhythm that has your heartbeat racing. You feel her cock press on your clit through her pants, and for a fleeting moment, you wonder if you might come just from this.

But Agnes has other plans.

Her hands slip from your waist, leaving you whining at the loss of contact as her fingers find the buckle of her belt. She undoes it with slow precision, followed by the button and zipper of her pants, her gaze locked with yours for the whole time, challenge flickering in her eyes as she smirks.

Her hand slips between your legs once more, sliding over your sensitive core, fingers teasing your hole as if to confirm just how ready you are for her. You bite your lip, completely unable to contain yourself. “Please.” you beg, voice low and trembling.

The smirk that crosses her face is dark, satisfied, as though she’s savoring every word, reveling in how desperate you are to have her inside of you. Desperation starts to kick in as your hand moves over hers, guiding her fingers between your folds, desperate for the friction she’s barely giving you. You grind against her hand, each movement sending sparks through your body as you cling to the delicious, aching need building inside you. Your breathing is ragged, and you can barely focus, until you catch sight of her other hand moving down to her waist.

With a fluid motion, Agnes reaches into her boxers, freeing her strap. The anticipation and the sheer intensity of the moment making your breath catch in your throat. As she draws it out, you take in every inch, noticing how it’s bigger than what Agatha would normally choose, yet not the biggest she’s ever ruined you with. But there’s something about the way she holds it, about the way it fills her hand, that has a rush of arousal pooling low in your stomach.

You swallow hard, desire flaring in your eyes as you let yourself imagine how it will feel inside of you, stretching you, abusing your needy hole. Agnes doesn’t miss your reaction, her smirk deepens, that predatory, knowing look in her eyes as she catches you staring. She shifts her hips, letting the strap press against your inner thigh, teasing you with what’s coming.

Her voice drops to a murmur, gravelly and low. “Think that pretty pussy of yours is ready to take it, doll?” she asks, tone both a tease and a command, daring you to say otherwise.

Without hesitation, you meet her gaze, biting your lip, eyes blazing with need. “Yes.” you whisper, breathless. “Fuck yes.”

A shiver runs through you as Agnes aligns herself, the tip of her cock pressing teasingly at your entrance, one of her hand resting firmly on your hip, grounding you. Slowly and deliberately, she begins to sink into you, stretching you inch by inch. A soft, breathy moan escapes you as the fullness sets in. Your fingers dig into her shoulders, clinging to her, every nerve ending lighting up with raw pleasure.

Agnes watches every reaction with a possessive gaze, clearly enjoying the way your body responds to her. She pauses, just for a second, letting you adjust. “Just like that. Mm, I wish I could feel that tight cunt wrapping around me. I bet it would feel so good.” she murmurs, voice thick with satisfaction.

And then, with an agonizing slowness, she presses further, filling you completely until there’s nowhere left to go and she’s buried deep inside. The feeling of fullness settles within you, every inch of her stretching you in a way that leaves you teetering on the edge of overwhelming pleasure. Your gaze drops instinctively to where your bodies connect, where her strap disappears into you, a sight that sends a deep, pulsing ache through your core.

But as you look down, your eyes catch on something else. The purple gemstone of your necklace, nestled against your skin, begins to glow, casting a soft, pulsing light in sync with the pounding rhythm of your heart. A slow smirk spreads across your lips, it’s almost time.

You teasingly wiggle your hips, signaling that you’re ready, craving the friction only she can provide. Agnes tightens her grip on your hips, nails digging into your skin. She meets your challenge, leaning forward just enough to capture your mouth in a deep, consuming kiss. In the heated clash of tongues and teeth, her hips begin to move, pulling back slowly before thrusting forward, filling you again.

Her pace is torturously unhurried, letting you feel every second, watching the way your face reflects each wave of pleasure. After a few measured thrusts, her hands slide down to grip your ass, fingers kneading your skin before delivering a sharp, satisfying spank that sends a shock of pleasure through you. A gasp slips from your lips but, before you know it, her hips have stilled and she’s watching you with a provocative glint in her eyes.

It dawns on you that she wants you to move, to put on a show just for her. You hesitate, breath catching, and her voice drops to a low, rough murmur as she smirks. “Come on doll, you gotta work for it. Let’s see how you bounce for me.”

Her words ignite a fresh wave of arousal and, taking a steadying breath, you start rolling your hips. You move slowly at first, savoring the stretch but it doesn’t take long before you start lifting and sinking your full weight down onto her, each movement drawing a low hum of approval from her lips.

Lost in the rhythm, you quicken your pace, each bounce bringing you down harder, making the base of the strap pressing firmly against her clit. Her hands guide you, watching you arch and take her deeper and deeper, her gaze full of admiration and raw desire. 

The car fills with the wet, needy sounds of your arousal as she fills you completely. Your breaths turn to soft, broken moans, mingling with curses spilling from your lips. “F-fuck… Aggie…” you stammer, the familiar nickname slipping out before you can catch it. “Feels so… so good.” you murmur, half-lost in the haze, voice thick with need as you ride her harder, body pressing into her with abandon.

Agnes’s eyes flash, and for a split second, you wonder if she’s even noticed the slip or if she’s choosing to ignore it, letting it pass without breaking the intensity of the moment. Her grip tightens, voice dropping to a rough whisper that sends a shiver down your spine “Good girl… you’re taking me so well.” One of her hand slides up your back, nails scratching your skin and leaving red marks under your dress. “This is exactly what you were made for, isn’t it?”

Her words ignite something deep inside of you, urging you on as pleasure builds with each movement, your head tipping forward as you release a shameless moan. Your steady, rhythmic bouncing sends waves of pleasure radiating through you, each one stronger than the last, the friction inside you maddeningly perfect. You can feel your own wetness slickening each movement and dripping down your thighs, the glide of her strap effortless as she pushes deeper, unrelenting.

Agnes is utterly captivated, her gaze darting between the raw expressions of pleasure on your face and the sight of her strap disappearing into you. She drinks in every movement, every tremble, barely able to restrain herself.

As if sensing her focus, you open your eyes. You catch her gaze and stare right into her as you bite your lip, slowly and purposefully sinking down onto her cock, daring her. And that’s all she needs.

One hand wraps firmly around your throat, grip strong and commanding, while the other moves to your hip, pressing you down on her lap. For a moment, everything is suspended, you’re pinned under her gaze as the intensity of both the pressure at your throat and the deep ache within makes you shudder, caught between pleasure and anticipation.

Then, without warning, her hips snap up, driving into you with a devastating shove that forces every ounce of breath out of your lungs. She thrusts hard and deep, filling you completely, each movement unrelenting and precise, striking that spot that has you gasping and moaning uncontrollably.

Your hands clutch at her shoulders, desperate for some anchor as she pound into you without mercy, driving you relentlessly toward the edge. Your eyes flutter shut in overwhelming pleasure, but her grip tightens on your throat, pulling you back. “Eyes on me, pet.” she growls, voice low and commanding. “You begged me to ruin you. Now, look at me while I give you exactly what you asked for.”.

You force your eyes open, and the instant they lock onto hers, her pace quickens. The smirk on her face is a mix of dominance and admiration as she keeps pushing you further with every movement. The feeling is all-consuming and, as she continues, you feel yourself surrender completely, helpless under her control, barely holding on as pleasure engulfs you.

Her hips are snapping forward with an intensity bordering on devastating, her feet planted firmly on the car floor, adding force to each thrust. Her hand finds its way between your legs once more, fingers moving in practiced circles over your sensitive clit, coaxing you to the brink.

The purple stone around your neck pulses brighter as your orgasm builds, filling the car with an otherworldly glow that syncs with the rhythm of Agnes’s relentless movements. 

“Mmm, I missed this… I missed you.” the confession slips out you in a raw whisper. For a second, Agnes’ expression falters, something flickering in her eyes that seems to recognize the truth. Before she can react, the light from the stone intensifies, flooding the space between you with a bright, shimmering glow. Her gaze drops to the gemstone blazing against your skin, entranced as though the light itself is unraveling something within her.

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, you seize the moment and murmur the spell.

Ancient Latin words leave your lips like a quiet chant, each syllable carrying the force of longing and magic, woven with the raw passion building between you. The words wrap around you both, charging the moment, and as the final word slips from your mouth, she gasps like someone just knocked all the air out of her lungs. Agnes’s eyes meet yours, and in that instant, you know the veil has been lifted.

Agnes is gone and Agatha, your Agatha, is back. The full force of who she is, and who you are to her, rushes back all at once. For a moment, Agatha simply stares at you, the love of her life who broke her from that maddening spell… on her lap, strap buried deep inside you. The sight renders her speechless, her expression a mix of wonder and fierce devotion as she processes what’s happened.

Finally, her voice returns, smug and rough yet laden with emotion. “So, this is your idea of a rescue mission? Can’t say I mind, sweetheart.” She leans in, breath ghosting over your lips as her fingers trace your cheek, gaze softening though hunger remains.

You suppress a moan as her hips shift involuntarily, pushing deeper, and she gasps, realizing the full impact of the spell being lifted. She can feel you now, all of you. Every slick, heated movement as she fills you, every pulse of pleasure passing through you both in sync. The raw feeling of you, tight and warm, clenching around her cock, sends sudden jolts of pleasure through her. The boundary between you dissolved completely.

“Fuck… I can feel you again.” she murmurs, voice thick with awe and desire. Her voice drops, thick with satisfaction and yearning. “I’ve waited too long for this, and now… now you’re all mine again.”

Her breath catches, and her hands tighten on your hips, guiding you as she thrusts up with renewed purpose, as if proving to herself that this moment is real, savoring every second of this reconnection. Her eyes glint with pleasure as her nails dig into your skin, pulling you down harder with each thrust, her control slipping as she begins to feel herself approaching her own edge.

A ragged growl escapes her as she whispers against your ear, “You’re still so damn tight, sweetheart. Do you know what you’re doing to me?” Her breath shudders, and a smile plays on her lips as she admits, “I’m already close too… After all this time, I don’t think I can hold back.”

The rhythm between you intensifies as her hands roam over your body, holding you close as she loses herself in the feeling of being truly connected again. You’re nothing short of a moaning mess as her voice guides you closer to the edge with her, whispered praise and promises mingling with the tension building in both of you, pushing you both to the brink.

Agatha is fucking you at an unforgiving rhythm, the intensity blurring everything else. Her gaze never leaves you, watching you come undone as you both reach the edge, every sensation building to a breathtaking crescendo.

Soon, her rhythm turns erratic, her restraint fully unraveled. Her eyes bore into yours, dark and fierce, filled with desire and something deeper—a yearning that transcends this moment alone.

“Mm fuck baby… yes, just like that…” she murmurs, breathless, almost reverent.

Your thighs start to shake, each movement pushing you closer, and you can barely form words as the pleasure tightens, an unbearable ache. “Ah fuck Agatha… d-don’t stop.” you gasp, voice trembling. “Fuck fuck fuck…” you stammer with each of her relentless thrusts until your voice breaks, overcome by waves of sensation crashing through you.

The car is filled by the sound of your low, breathy moans, mixing with Agatha’s rough, primal groans, all blending together as her hands slide up your back, possessive, grounding, bracing you for what’s to come.

You’re so close, and you know she is right there with you, her body tensing as she growls, “Come with me, now.” Her voice thick, dripping with desire, her words pushing you over the edge.

Your body arches instinctively as you shudder, every nerve aflame as waves of pleasure wash over you. Your head tips back, unable to hold back the cries escaping your lips. Your thighs twitch uncontrollably, your hips moving wildly on Agatha’s lap as your walls clench around her cock, releasing all that built-up tension in one of the most powerful orgasms you’ve ever experienced.

Agatha’s hips snap up one last time, her breath catching as she reaches her own release, her hands pressing you close as she gasps. “Mine… all mine…” her words, raw and filled with emotion, resonate through you, pulling you even deeper into the moment.

Your bodies tremble together, chests heaving, hearts racing as you slowly come down from your high. She holds you there, her hand sliding up to cradle your face, her eyes softer but still burning as she meets your gaze. For a long moment, neither of you speaks, savoring the afterglow, feeling completely and utterly entwined.

Slowly, she leans in, capturing your lips in a deep, lingering kiss, one that holds all the love and longing she’s felt, buried beneath the spell, and everything you’ve both been waiting to express. Her mouth moves over yours with fervor, a silent promise in every brush of her lips. 

A tear rolls down your cheek as emotions overwhelm you, but Agatha notices, her thumb gently wiping it away as she smiles against your lips. Her expression is soft and filled with gratitude as she holds you close, her hands tracing over your skin as if trying to commit every inch of you to her memory.

“Thank you, my love.” she whispers, voice thick with feelings. Her hand cradles the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair as she finally, reluctantly, begins to pull out. The sudden emptiness leaves you gasping softly, a shiver running through you at the loss, but before you can fully react you’re wrapping your arms around her, holding her close, grounding yourself in her warmth and presence.

Agatha’s hand slides down your back, comforting, reassuring. She presses a soft kiss to your temple, murmuring “It’s okay. I’m here now.” She pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, her features gentle yet fiercely protective. “Let’s go home.” she says, her tone pure tenderness “I won’t ever let anything take me away from you again, I promise.”.

She holds you close for one last intimate moment, while her words linger, solid and true. With a soft smile, she shifts and tucks away her strap before buttoning up her pants and fastening her belt, her eyes never leaving yours, filled with affection and satisfaction.

Once she’s ready she turns toward you, her hands moving to adjust your dress, her touch both careful and intimate as she smooths the fabric sliding it back into place around your waist and hips. Her hands linger, brushing along your sides in a way that makes your heart flutter.

Agatha opens the car door, stepping out first, leaning back to help you out of the car. She guides you with a steady hand as she opens the passenger door and, once you’re settled in the seat, she closes the door gently, making her way around the car and slipping into the driver’s seat beside you.

Agatha reaches over, her hand resting on your thigh as she leans in, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. With a final squeeze of your thigh, she starts the car, guiding you both into the night. In the quiet space between you, there’s a shared understanding that this is the beginning of a new chapter, together, with nothing left to keep you apart.

[rafeskai]

Never Really Left

A Rafe Cameron Social Media AU

Summary: After four years away at NYU, you’re finally back in the Outer Banks, ready to reconnect with your brother, Topper, and the familiar faces you left behind. But things are different now: you’ve changed, the OBX has changed, and Rafe Cameron is not the boy you remember. Reuniting with him stirs up old feelings and new complications, as you’re drawn into the whirlwind of his intensity.

Pairings: Rafe Cameron x Thornton!Reader

Series Warnings: strong language, violence, substance use/abuse, mental health, toxic relationships and manipulation, sexual content, angst.

Masterlist: Intro 1 - Intro 2 - One - Two - Three - Four - Five

Main Characters Introduction

Y/N Thornton

After four years at NYU, Y/N Thornton has transformed into a confident, independent city girl with a chic, minimalist style and a driven, ambitious attitude. Life in New York has turned her into a coffee addict who navigates the city’s fast pace with ease, juggling a packed schedule and staying connected through her social feeds. She’s cultured, well-versed in everything from art galleries to trendy rooftop bars, and keeps a balanced lifestyle with yoga and the latest wellness trends. Returning to the OBX feels both nostalgic and surreal, as if she’s stepping back in time. Her sophisticated city life feels worlds away from the laid-back beach town, and her relationships—even with her brother Topper—seem distant and complicated. But the most unexpected pull comes from Rafe Cameron, a reminder of her past who now sparks conflicting feelings, blending familiarity with an intense chemistry that’s both thrilling and dangerous.

Rafe Cameron

Rafe Cameron is the epitome of Kildare Island's rebellious, privileged elite, a product of wealth who’s always struggled with the darker edges of his personality. Charismatic yet volatile, he’s known for his wild parties, quick temper, and magnetic charm that makes him both irresistible and dangerous. Rafe has a complicated, love-hate relationship with the OBX lifestyle; he loves the freedom and dominance his family’s money brings but resents the expectations placed upon him. To his friends, he’s fiercely loyal, though his intensity sometimes borders on possessiveness, especially with those who get close to him. Outwardly calm but constantly on the edge, Rafe is a risk-taker who’s unapologetically himself, even if it means walking the line between respectability and ruin.

© 2024 rafeskai | All rights reserved. This fanfiction is a work of fiction inspired by characters from Outer Banks, and no part of it may be reproduced or distributed without permission.

[maxiroman0v]

Unbroken

Natasha Romanoff sat on the edge of her bed, the soft morning light spilling through the curtains of their small but warm home. It was a Saturday, the kind of day she used to dread when she was younger. Back then, she had no idea what it meant to be free—no idea that there could be a life beyond shadows and bloodstains. But now, with the sound of her two children playing in the next room, her heart beat to a different rhythm. One of peace.

Her wife, Y/N, appeared at the doorframe, a mischievous smile on her face. "I hope you're not planning on staying in bed all day," she teased, crossing her arms.

Natasha smirked but didn't rise. "Maybe I am. You know, it's not every day I get to be lazy."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, the air between them filled with a comfortable familiarity. They'd been married for over a decade now, and Natasha was still in awe of how Y/N had stayed by her side, even when she was still piecing herself together. It hadn't always been easy. It had taken years for Natasha to be comfortable with herself, to trust that she was enough.

The world had its expectations. As a spy, Natasha had always been forced to blend into a mold that others created for her—stoic, dangerous, perfect. But there were things even she had kept hidden. Things she had been taught to be ashamed of. Her intersex identity, once a source of confusion and shame, had become a quiet strength, something she had come to embrace with Y/N’s gentle love and unwavering support.

"Come on," Y/N coaxed, leaning against the doorframe, "the kids will be awake soon, and you know how much they want pancakes."

Natasha chuckled softly. "You're right. I'll get up."

They had built this life slowly—brick by brick—learning to love each other not in spite of their pasts but because of them. Y/N had always known, from the very beginning, about Natasha's intersex condition, the quiet truth that had haunted her for years. Natasha had feared rejection, but Y/N had simply accepted her. It was never an issue between them. And when they had children, Natasha had worried again, wondering what kind of parents they would be. But Y/N as always, was the rock, steady and sure. And their children—Lena, a wild, brilliant nine-year-old, and Theo, their curious seven-year-old—loved them both without question.

The kids burst into the room then, Lena with her usual energy and Theo following more slowly, rubbing his eyes. "Mama!" Lena shouted, diving onto the bed. "Are we making pancakes today? Please say yes!"

Y/N laughed, moving to pull the covers off Natasha, nudging her gently. "I think that’s a yes, kiddo."

Theo climbed up beside Natasha, his small hand curling into her own. "Mama," he asked quietly, his voice full of innocent curiosity, "why are we different from the other families?"

Natasha's heart stilled, her thoughts briefly flickering to the past. She could see the way people sometimes looked at them, the questions unspoken, the stares that lingered. But to her children, they were simply a family. They loved each other, and that was enough.

"You know, Theo," she began, her voice soft but sure, "every family is different. Some families have two moms, some have two dads, some have one parent, some have more. The important thing is that we love each other, and we’re always here for each other."

Lena grinned up at her. "And we're the best family in the world!"

Natasha chuckled, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. "Yes, Lena. We are."

Y/N gave her a knowing smile as she gathered the children, leading them out of the room. Natasha remained for a moment, alone, the weight of the world feeling lighter than it ever had before.

She wasn't defined by her past anymore. Not by the shadows of the Red Room, not by the labels the world had tried to give her. She was Natasha, a mother, a wife, a woman who had come to understand that the most powerful thing she could do was be herself, unapologetically.

The door creaked open, and Y/N reappeared, leaning against the frame with a warm smile. "Everything okay?"

Natasha nodded, standing up now, her back straight. "Yeah. Everything’s perfect."

And as she joined her family, she realized that the quiet strength she'd found in herself was the greatest victory she'd ever achieved.

Unbroken.

[celeste444spacey]

What is this celebrity energy thing anyway? + how to actually start with channeling it

Some people are just magnetic and just seem to effortlessly get likes and attention on social media. Some people just seem to be getting more, even though you are just as, and if not more talented.

How do they do this anyway???

Well my loves, it's a little thing that we call here, Celebrity Energy.

Now the thing about celebrity energy is a lot of people mistake it for talent. And here's the thing,

Talent only gets you so far.

The immediate instinct when you don't get the same attention as some people is "oh i'm not good enough", "oh they're way more talented", "oh i probably am not talented enough for this, oh i don't have skills for this" yadda yadda yadda.

ENERGY gets you famous. NOT your talent. And this is where people get it wrong. And no, it's not even about your looks.

You have probably met certain people in your life that just have this unexplainable appeal to them. It's just something that pulls you into their orbit and keeps you hooked.

Now that energy? That magnetism? That some sort of 'there's-more-to-them' feeling you get? That's your key to fame.

Some marketing 101 (from a business student herself)

When you sell a product you focus on it's core values

For example: let's say you're selling a lip gloss, the basic features you focus on while marketing is it does the job. It makes your lips look pretty, or acts a treatment or whatever. Then you move to what differentiates this lip gloss from the other products in the market. Those are the winning attributes i.e. the features that makes people BUY it.

Honestly these core principles apply similarly to you if you want fame but this is the key difference

Your consciousness is the product.

As Whitney Uland says,

Fame is just the resource of having people's attention.

Channeling the Celebrity Energy

The first thing you have to ABSOLUTELY 1000000% get rid of is the fear of being perceived. As long as you fear being seen and people making opinions on you, you will ABSOLUTELY never get noticed.

That's because that insecurity and fear of perception can create this void like halo around you, and basically flush down all the magnetic parts of your energy down the drain.

You have to let your authenticity linger and have to make peace with the fact that not everyone might like that. The most magnetic of personalities attract two extremes of opinions, people would either kill for them or absolutely hate them. (Taylor Swift and Beyonce for example).

Celebrity Energy is a mix of confidence, charisma and absolutely unapologetic aura.

Best part? You don't even need to be famous.

Audience looks for someone they can connect to, someone that feels like their 'best friend', someone that they can see themselves in, while also seeing someone they want to be.

And that's why people say swifties are rabid. Taylor has created a very fundamental connection with them over 18 years that has brought us to this very landscape where she holds such cultural significance over two generations. It's almost an emotional significance she upholds in many people's life to the point for the fans, it feels like they know her even when they don't actually know her.

They feel like she's their best friend when she doesn't even know they exist.

And that's cause of the vulnerability she has shown to throughout her discography or her journey. She's not scared to be perceived. Same with you, you shouldn't be scared to be perceived. Because other people's perception is not something you can control. And other people's perception is not your responsibility.

Well this is it for this post, I will be making another post detailing on how to actually channel your celebrity energy, since this one already got long enough ahaha. (And super sorry for the inactivity, ya girl had her midterms and she was kinda slacking off soooooo)

[miquella-everywhere]

Fr tho Marika is the worst mother ever

She gouged out the eyes of her first born and after a while couldn't even bother to look past his deformities and abandoned him in a parallel dimension to carry out her divinely mandated bloodshed but he still tried to please his mother because he loved her but at the very end realized that she didn't love him and cursed her with his dying breath, she was apparently a healer and a God on top of that but evidently did absolutely nothing to try and help her daughter who suffered from "rot-from-the-inside-out" disease from birth and did not care about her, and now with her history with the hornsent you know damn well that she absolutely loathed the omen twins and felt no remorse throwing them into the sewers

and then you have her youngest son who was absolutely terrified by the idea of becoming a God and saw all of his mothers evils for what they were but also believed that godhood was the only thing that could fix the misery she inflicted upon the world so you can only imagine the kind of toxic traumatic relationship he had with her throughout in his eternal childhood and also marikas grace sending us to murder said child

like damn what the hell

And I do not give two shits about her "my family died 😢" sob story because if anything it pisses me off even more

Like I have seen so many interpretations that Marika must have been a good person for what she did at the Shaman Village and tried to be good past that, but no.

Absolutely not.

The Shaman Village is where Marika buried her kindness and went on to commit a Genocide and one bloody slaughter after another and another and another and another and another...

Gideon says it best when he confronts us; "Queen Marika wants us to struggle unto Eternity."

Marika killed her kindness and made sure that the rest of the world would suffer alongside her, including her own children.

and yknow what?

I actually would not have minded any of this and definitely would've liked her character way more if the DLC actually went into detail about how she betrayed, murdered and stole from a pregnant woman in order to ascend to Godhood

like

yas! 👏 you go you unapologetic power hungry queen! 👏

but now with the story trailer fucking lying and the dlc doing everything to try an justify her genocidal bullshit I'm actually pissed the hell off

[midgardianqueenreturns]

You know what annoys me? How so many self-proclaimed Sanji fans seem to act ashamed of liking him. I’m not talking about those who lovingly bully and roast him (bc I love to do that too, my dumb silly simp man), but those who can’t seem to talk positively of him without every five minutes caveating “but I dislike his gag and this and that of him, live action Sanji better because I care more about whether a dumb gag is there or not than depth, he fell off post-timeskip because I only remember him post-ts in Fishman Island, plus his haters are right about everything so I understand why people hate him” then why are you a Sanji fan. It’s so sad how many I see say stuff like “no one hates Sanji more than Sanji fans” or “Being a Sanji fan is hard because he does this and that”. I’m not saying you can never have criticisms of characters you like, but it gets exhausting when there is hardly any unapologetic positivity of the character who is already widely hated and slandered to begin with. Even the few times there ARE posts with unapologetic Sanji positivity there are bound to be responses of stuff like “I like Sanji BUT” or “Sanji would be a good character IF ONLY” and it gets annoying. It’s one thing when his haters do it, but his own fans??? No other Straw Hats fans do it, why do we? Brook also has a perv gag, but even his fans don’t do this, I rarely see them say stuff like “I like Brook but his asking to see ladies panties gags ruins him” to the same extent as self-proclaimed Sanji fans. Why do we Sanji fans have to kowtow to his haters and sound exactly like them with the only difference being we add “I like Sanji but” or “as a Sanji fan”. We need to stop acting so pick-me and trying to be “one of the good Sanji fans”.

TL;DR: Let there be more unapologetic and unfiltered Sanji positivity. You don’t have to be so backhanded every single time you praise him, especially if you’re responding to another fan who IS trying to spread positivity surrounding him. Also stop shoehorning specifations that your appreciation posts are about pre-timeskip Sanji that’s a stealth insult you’re not fooling anyone

[themetalvirus]

i really do love rouge. her design is absolutely shameless and thats SO FUNNY. even when they try to tone her down it doesnt work. its so good

her being a bat with the big ears. her being a professional gem thief which is SUCH a fun way to give knuckles a foil and to get her involved with chaos emerald hijinks. her independent and selfish nature and her being unapologetic about those things. her being a spy too is so fun, especially with those big bat ears and Thief Stealth Experience it's such a fun character choice and adds a lot of options for stories with her. her true neutral vibes. her being a spy with loud as fuck clickity clackity shoes. love of all things shiny and valuable because if other people want it she must have it. rouge you are so good

[laurenkmyers]

The new year in England is rapidly approaching and it always seems to make everyone so reflective.

So I figured, as this year has been one of the best, but also without a doubt, the *worst* years of my life, I'll make a reflective post of my own. This is more for me than for any of you, but if you find comfort or resonate with anything that I do say, hi- you're not alone.

Sometimes it's easy to forget that not everything is as you see on social media. People's lives are so vastly different to what we see through the lense of instagram or twitter, and sometimes even through his loveable hell site. It may look like someone is the happiest they have ever been, when in reality someone could be suffering and putting on a happy face to avoid the awkward questions.

My life this year started off strong- I had a dream job in film. I was financially stable. I had savings for the first time in my life. I was able to splash out and buy things I wanted without worrying what to eat that month.

One of the highlights was seeing my name on the big screen for Barbie. It was my first ever credit since joining the film industry. It had people I haven't spoken to in years reaching out to tell me how proud they were of me. It was a bit of a whirlwind to be honest. I felt untouchable, I felt seen for the first time. I felt great.

Until I didn't. Until it all came crashing down. The film industry went on strike. No, sorry, the writers and actors went on strike and the crews were forced out of work because of it. Now, don't get me wrong, I am 100% with the writers and the actors and I support the strikes wholeheartedly, but the knock on effect to the crews was one one the darkest times of my life. I suddenly found myself out of work, unable to find a new job, and that wasn't to say I didn't try. I cold-emailed every company, every production I knew who were still working, and even the ones I didn't. But alas, it was all in vain. There was no work.

My mental health was deteriorating rapidly and I didn't know what to do to bring myself back out of the dark. So I looked at my dwindling bank account and made a last minute decision. I'd never had this amount of time off from work before, and the only thing that gave me a shred of happiness was my silly little bl shows.

So I did what I thought would make me happy. I booked a last minute flight, and 3 weeks later I was in Thailand having the best 12 days of my fucking life. I met my long time, long distance bestie in person for the first time. I went to some of the most beautiful temples I had ever seen. I met the love of my life, Bible Wichapas, not once, but twice as I supported him at a local event. I made new friends who I still keep in contact with. I saw so many bl boys in the flesh it still boggles the mind. I travelled to the north of Thailand on an overnight sleeper train. I took a speedboat to literal Heaven on Earth and swam in the most crystal clear ocean. I got 4 tattoos all commemorating my time in Thailand and my love of Jeff Satur, Prapaisky, and Vegas Theerapanyakul (by definition Bible), by a local artist who charged me next to nothing (and then I got one more tattoo for my SKZ bias Bang Chan). I cried meeting an elephant. I visited some of the most iconic Kinnporsche the series sets. I rode on the back of a scooter for a forty minute journey that cost me £1.50. I ate the spiciest dish of my little white girl life. I got to see Man Suang on the big screen. I met Mileapo at the airport and Mile smiled and waved directly at me. I got stuck on a boat during the heaviest rainfall of my life. And overall it was the best experience I have ever had. I fell in love with the city, the culture, and everything in between.

But the moment I landed back home in England, the things I had desperately tried to bury by living my best life for 12 days hit me like a sack of shit. I had no income, no money, and a mountain of bills to pay. All those savings I had were gone in just 6 months. I started to panic. I had (several) breakdowns. I couldn't pay my friend back the money I still owed her. I could barely pay my rent. I couldn't tell my parents because I didn't want to tell them I'd failed. But I was stuck. I applied for any and every job under the sun, but even they didn't want me. I felt fucking useless... and once again my mental health was dragging me down to hell. I couldn't see a way out. When I did eventually get up the courage to tell my parents, one of them told me I was a fool to spend what little money I had left travelling to Thailand, as if I didn't already know it was a dumb idea. But what they didn't know was that the trip had ultimately saved my life.

After that reality check, I did what I have never in my life needed to do. I asked for financial help. And both my parents came through. I know how lucky I am that they did. Not everyone can turn to parents to help them out. I'm forever grateful. They gave me £500 each. So I now had rent money for two more months. I also went on benefits (which I'd refused to even consider for so long because to me if felt like defeat- it's not). But then I took the first job that would take me. I now have an income. It's minimum wage, but it pays the bills. I finally feel like I'm slowly making my way back to the surface. I've still got a long fucking road ahead of me, I'm still overwhelmed as fuck, working tow jobs and studying to teach English as a foriegn language, but things are slowly taking shape again.

I'm hoping the new year will help me get back on my feet. I've accepted a few days on a very well known soap which I'm excited and nervous about, but hopefully with it, the momentum in the industry I love that I lost last year will start to come back to me.

Overall, this year has been fucking crazy in the best and worst ways and I'll be glad to see the back of it. I'm not one for making resolutions as I tend to live life day by day, but my hope for this year is to get back to somewhere near where I was before.

And most importantly, I want to go back to Thailand in the not-too-distant future. Whether that's to visit or live, who knows?

2024- Let's fucking goooooo!

[theceaselessidiot]

Eloise Bridgerton being an absolute mood:

and Cressida's reaction of 'this girl is so weird, but I'm into it??? Wait am I into this??'':

[takatul]

Twisted Wonderland self-aware!Yuu except they’re empathic.

When I say self-aware!Yuu I don’t mean a scenario where Yuu transmigrated into Twisted Wonderland with memories intact.

When I say self-aware!Yuu I mean someone who knows themselves better than anyone else.

They know they have flaws. They know that, sometimes, their flaws will get in the way. Whether it’s shutting down emotionally, not being able to express themselves properly, or something to do with a physical ability. Their flaws will always follow them around. Even in Twisted Wonderland.

And yet, self-aware!Yuu is still kind. Still loving all of their strengths and flaws.

Ace needing a place to stay after Riddle off’d-his-head? “Yes, of course you can sleepover.”

Deuce breaking down after letting his delinquent side out? “No, you’re not a bad guy— you just protected me and Grim from those bullies!”

Riddle having a crisis after his overblot? “I don’t accept your apology. Not yet at least. But I can understand why acted this way… you’re allowed to feel angry about your past. You didn’t deserve that kind of treatment.”

No matter how wrong the opponent is, self-aware!Yuu always empathizes with them in the end.

Maybe one day, someone confronts them about it. I can see Leona or Azul or Rollo and maybe Jamil. They’re people who have experienced and or seen how terrible people can be.

“Why are you so nice all the time? You’re too thought. Too kind. Good people like you always end up last.”

Perhaps self-aware!Yuu will look at them with a stoic face. Perhaps a shocked expression, accompanied by a frantic gasp. Perhaps even small laugh at their question. And just as the confronting student was about to retort again, self-aware!Yuu will smile.

“Well, I’m not a good person. I just do what I think is right.”

Self-aware!Yuu will sit down, watching activities unfold around them— heart still bursting full of kindness. They’ll pat the empty space beside them. An invitation, but it’s up to the student to take the initiative.

“It’s everyone’s first time living after all. May as well make it kind.”

Soon enough, if the student plucks their courage, they’ll sit and slowly learn how to become self-aware too.

banner credit: @bunnysrph

[kori-senpai]

New Leokumi content in the lords year of 2024?? It's more likely than you think! (x)

[pharawee]

Oh wow. Spirit Reborn (the original teaser has since been deleted) aka Khemjira Must Survive completely changed production companies and has been revived as Khemjira the Series by Mandee starring Namping Napatsakorn as Khemjira and Keng Harit as Parun.

I've just recently read the novel it's based on and it's an incredibly detailed horror novel steeped in Isan and (Thai) Buddhist folklore with very little BL stuff happening until the bonus chapters - presumably because it's not right for someone like Parun (a very respected practitioner of Buddhist "white magic") to consider or even get distracted by thoughts of that nature.

The original production received a lot of criticism for not sticking to the novel but I guess Mandee gets the Domundi bonus. Then again, Domundi isn't exactly known for... not being spicy. And here they can't even leave the spiciness to the side couple because they're Parun's students and have to adhere to the precepts too. Unless they rewrite the whole story - which would be a pity because it's so very clearly Buddhist and I really liked that about it.

[lokiina]

Got 'em

[ughscara]

heeey, just asking, but what instrument(s) do you think kuronushi (and just. scara in general BAHAHAHA) can play? i personally think that he can play the shamisen, koto and shakuhachi but id like to know what u think :3

-⛩️ anon :3

'nushi, kuni and music? you have asked the sanest person to answer that question ( i am, in fact, not sane about my passions combined into one www ). but omg hi !! my first ever anon, it's an absolute delight to have your presence ~

i hope the next series of thorough discussion won't be much for you .. because this is something i wanted to thoroughly talk about before but i've been lacking a lot of time for myself lately ;; but here i am now ~

but, without further ado, let's bring our tea, sit down, and start yapping this tea party away ( ੭ ˙ ᗜ ˙ )੭

your vision of kuni playing on those three instruments is something i share the same sentiment towards as well~ but, since we are looking in a more divided direction in a sense — i have cooked and will provide.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

kuronushi is a man whose more intuned with his voice and handicraft more than any other poet in inazuma's lands. it is no different for his unfathomable skill in singing, anyone is bound to be swoon from hearing that silky smooth voice of his. 'nushi is also a man who likes to experience anything he deems of interest to him, and that was the case when he picked up the tonkori for the first time. i feel like a lot of 'nushi lovers associate him with the shamisen, and i can definitely see why, but in my eyes; he finds himself more at harmony when putting his voice to use. hence the tonkori is likely the instrument he has on his person often while the shamisen is more present at aoi no okina and suiko's theaters. ( a stark sound goes well with an angelic voice, no? )

kabukimono is more of a dancer than someone who excels at music play... but he underestimates how much of a fast learner he is sometimes. all it took was a walk near tatarasuna village to hear one of the elderly play on the koto; and his vacant ribcage was quickly showered with warmth at the sound of it. it simply sounded melodic~ so he stuck around with the elderly women, asking a curious question after another and taking a few lessons from her until eventually, every sunset, all the kids could hear is kabukimono's tunes on the koto rather than being able to play with him like they usually do.

the balladeer barely has the time to indulge in such things. but and off writer mode for a little here — his hat has two bachi attached to each red rope of his hat !! a primary component of playing the shamisen. circling back... he definitely found a bit of time after being recruited into the fatui, not having much to do other than command ‘brainless subordinates’ and some boring paperwork. a harbinger's time, especially of his status, is quite precious. why let it go to waste? so interestingly, while quietly browsing shops in snezhnaya's town from the sidelines, he found an inazuman who didn't want their shamisen anymore. somehow, in someway, and definitely not because he wanted to try the instrument for himself after so long, that person's shamisen was now in his possession. he'd grown quite used to playing the instrument by himself to pass time... put that in quotations.

with those out of the way .. let's get to some additional concepts!

shogun kuni is usually if not always alone. tenshukaku is quiet, unbearably so most of the time, as whenever he closes his eyes and attempts to meditate the free time away; all he could see is makoto's memories from the gnosis. all that resounds in his ears is ei's distant wishes for eternal stasis for this land. an old friend of his however finally made its visit back to his life, the shakuhachi katsuragi gave him as a little gift. the sight of this thing often makes him feel all the more somber, but there's never been anything more delightful to occupy this deafening silence. all by himself in his room, or atop tenshukaku, with only bittersweet tunes accompanying him.

surprise concept ( left blank for now, you'll see who it is in a later fic~ ) he may appear frail in contrast to his younger sister, but do not let his delicate face fool you. for kunikuzushi has a heart of steel and a skill like no other with the taiko. he rarely plays the instrument, only there for important occasions, but his position doesn't allow him to mingle with the remainder of those musically driven souls. but who is he to listen? if he wanted to, he would gladly tag along just to piss off the shogun. but... he has other matters to tend to.

mera. hunter kuni ( old fontaine + 60's setting ) for someone who's been integrated into the illustrious lands of fontaine long ago by now, even after casting his identity aside, his interest for the kokyu never dulled. making his face known throughout fontaine for being able to offer something new to an otherwise classy and quite a dull setting as he so describes it. kids tend to approach him, blissfully unaware that behind the identity of ‘nomad’, a well liked gentlemen with... an interesting way of words, is someone who isn't who they think he is. and that instrument is one of the many scars he carries from his past life.

why wasn't the wanderer included? that's because i envision that, as he is taking on and forging his own identity, he doesn't intrest himself with inazuman instruments as much. not to stray further from his past, but because he'd grown a bit of a liking to sumeru's traditional instruments more. though, as a vahumana scholar and all, as well as a wanderer, he'd rather indulge himself in the sweet taste of freedom for a bit longer. such a thing as investing in something new can wait for a later time.

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i am so sorry this took a while to answer .. i didn't have a lot of time on my plate, much less being able to log in because i am alternating between devices constantly ;; but it is here now! and to the anon who sent in a similar ask — this one's for you ‹3

[anixknowsnothin]

the most attractive thing a person can be to me is passionate.

[melon-official]

She wails as though a part of her has died.

oh man. i picked up the sidestory to @just-a-carrot's five-arc horror epic a couple days ago and i'm so glad i did. i'll probably be talking nonstop and/or drawing about it for days

there's a handful of whiteboard doodles with other characters under the cut, but rly i just wanted to pay a homage to the scene that hit me the hardest... enjoy