w1ld-k4t

[w1ld-k4t]

Born to crave and write smut, forced to build a long plot before it 💔

[w1ld-k4t]

Unhelpful

CONTENT WARNING: Nothing crazy. Pussy eating, some pet-names (i.e bunny, my light), and Xavier being a bratty dom. Go ham, folks.

SYNOPSIS: Xavier had an urge to be between your legs while you're trying to get some work done.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, yeah, this is very self indulgent. Sue me. Once again, though, I'm sorry for any OOC-ness. I love writing (this one also just tore it's way out of my hands), but I haven't written for the lads until now. I think Caleb came out pretty good, so let's hope I did Xavier justice, too.

How are you supposed to think like this?

The laptop screen strains your eyes, propped up on your thighs as you lounge back in your shared bed. Any studying, writing or project you’d been trying to get done is nothing but a mindless blur. Your mind is wandering, unable to grasp and stick to any specific word or image reflecting back into your cloudy gaze.

All because you’d given into to those pretty, pleading blue eyes.

- ☆ -

“Xavier, I don’t know…” The words had felt twisted on your tongue, thighs unconsciously pressing together where you sit. His request has the heat flooding to your cheeks, but you really do have things you need to get done. And with what he’s suggesting…

“Mm… It’s alright if you don’t want to, bunny,” he nearly coos (and it makes your heart melt) as he rests his head in his hand, elbow bent and propped upon his pillow. For a moment, his gaze drifts away from your face and down to the plush rabbit sitting between you both. His free hand idly fiddles with the felt of it’s ear, “I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable…”

And it’s the way he returns his sights to your own that is your undoing, stars shimmering in his gaze and pupils blown into large, desiring pools.

“I just wanna taste you.”

- ☆ -

And thus, here you are.

He’s taking his time between your legs, head underneath the shadow of your laptop and hands lightly gripping, caressing the back of your thighs. As there always is when he’s even being gentle with you, there’s a subtle possessiveness in his touch. His tongue draws lazy circles around your entrance, gathering the escaping slick there and then agonizingly dragging it up to draw stars on your clit.

You haven’t gotten any work done. Or, if you did manage to in your haze, it must not be very coherent. You can’t hear your thoughts over the sound of his lapping and slurping.

Every twitch of your thighs trying to close is awarded with a tightening of his fingers, a gentle nip to your pussy lips and, if done too many times in a row, a low, displeasured growl. Whimpers have slipped past your own tongue far too many times to count at this point. The worst part is the lack of goal. True to his word, he’s just tasting you. Slow, leisurely and, dare he say, sleepily drunk on the flavor.

It’s driving you insane.

You’re brought out of your thoughts as he taps your thigh, mumbling something inaudible against your sopping cunt. You hadn’t even realized how your had had fallen back against the wall behind you, your laptop slanted without you holding it in place.

“My light…” He hums, and you can hear the infuriatingly teasing smile on his lips. Imagining it covered in your slick and his saliva has another spark of arousal swimming down your spine, “You haven’t been typing for a while… Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” you breathe out too quickly, hair standing on the back of your neck at the sound of his amused, close-lipped chuckle. He’s already layering another lick over your slit, “N-no, I just… I just needed a break.”

You can do this. … You think.

Refocusing your gaze on your computer screen proves to be even more difficult than you’d anticipated, but damn him if he thinks you’re giving up now. Your fingers begin moving on the keyboard again, slow and hesitant. His hair tickles your inner thighs as the words form on the page, your finger swiping across the mousepad to make a correction and-

Another slow swipe across your clit makes your thighs clench. He nudges them back open.

Taking a deep breath, you continue. Click, tap, tap - Your fingers are shaking as they graze the key-caps. Moving two fingers to the mouse-pad again, you scroll up what you’ve written to see how far you’ve gotten-

His fingertips graze your pussy lips and it has your breath hitching, a jolt of surprise attacking your spine.

“Xav, you said-,” Your worries are shushed, his lips kissing your mound as he softly pets your slit with two of his fingers.

“Jus’ relax, bunny…” He breathes, teasing your entrance by circling around it and playing with the wetness that’s accumulated there, “M’ not gonna put them in… not yet.”

A confusing mix of relief and need follows after. Still, you huff and carry on. Knowing him, he’s trying to distract you on purpose. But he does as he said, only petting your cunt with the lightest touch while his tongue and lips do most of the work. Suckling and licking at your clit while his finger scoop your growing slick into his mouth.

To your credit, you do manage to get some work done. Not nearly as much as you need to, the page still painfully empty, but it’s not nothing. And you were going steady until you noticed him following a certain pattern.

Click, tap - A diagonal line, down to the right.

Tap, tap tip - Another, down to the left.

And as you’re trying to type, your fingers slow down.

Another diagonal line, this time up and to the right. Immediately followed by a connected line going down and to the right. A quick line swept across.

By the time he reaches V, you realize he’s (staking his claim) spelling his name over your swollen nub. It has your thighs shaking and, with the way his hand tightens around the flesh of your thigh, he knows you’ve noticed. Knows by the way your fingers have stopped moving and your breath picks up.

The smile you feel against your cunt is devious.

You’re not going to be able to think like this.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Once again, I hope I've done him justice. This quite literally came to thought as I was lounging back in this same position. Also; let me know if anyone's interested in a continuation or anything.

CREDITS: The dividers are from thecutestgrotto. Eye banner is from the Harper's Bazaar x LADS Collab. All writing is done by me, w1ld-k4t.

[w1ld-k4t]

but what if i read one of your fanfics and then went to your ao3 accounts and read all of your fanfics and left a comment on every single chapter of every single one and you got spam emails from all of my kudos and comments and it made you smile, what then? what if i brighten your day with my words like you did mine, what then???

[w1ld-k4t]

wishing I could freeze time so fanfic writers could write all of their slow-burn enemies to lovers and gay porn and fix-it fics and all of their WIPs and prompts without having to worry about life and other responsibilities

[w1ld-k4t]

‎‎‎‎‎Panty Thief Conundrum

CONTENT WARNING: Yandere!Caleb being a freak, like incredibly so. Stepcest is a given with this guy when MC is involved. Panty/Bra/Clothes stealing, sniffing and... other things. He's a creep here, I was not nice to him. Manipulation, mention of punishments. Please be aware, loves.

SYNOPSIS: Caleb can't find any of your underwear in the laundry because you've started going commando most of the time.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I have never written for the lads before, let's be clear. Let alone Caleb, let alone fandom Caleb. I apologize for any OOC-ness. That said, this shit just ripped itself from my subconscious and forced itself through my fingertips.

Preposterous.

Evil. Cruel and unusual punishment, really.

He finally has the girl of his dreams back, the love of his disgusting, perverted little life.

And yet, as he rifles through the laundry basket with growing desperation (ripping past any articles of clothing he’s not interested in, really), his dirty heart nearly cracks in two.

WHERE are your panties? Your bras, even?

He hates himself for it. He really, truly does. But ever since you finally accepted him back into your life, your home and, stars, your fucking arms, he can’t deny that this is something he’d been looking forward to for a while.

Doing your laundry for you again. Out of the kindness of his heart, is what he wants to tell himself.

But the pair (his favorite pair) he’d kept with him after he’d left lost your scent a long, long goddamn time ago. Maybe it would’ve kept longer if he hadn’t soaked it in his cum nearly every night while he was away. Hell, he tore a hole in them after the explosion. After he was sure he’d never see you again.

So where, pray tell, are your FUCKING panties?

He can’t just… well, maybe he can ask. If he words it right, plays the role of the concerned, loving gege. Then he could get his answer.

It doesn’t have to be awkward. Or perverted. Just… looking out for you, like he always did. Does.

Will. Whether you like it, are aware of it or not.

So when you open the door to your room after hearing him knock and he’s standing there with his usual, lopsided smirk and the emptied laundry basket in under his arm, you shouldn’t really suspect a thing. He already has the laundry going, audible from down the hall.

“Heya, Pips,” as he leans against the door frame, using his free arm to prop himself up against it. You’re having to look up at him, as usual. The bastard.

“Not to, uh…” his elbow bends, scratching awkwardly (convincingly, he hopes) at the back of his neck. He makes an effort to move his eyes away from your own, despite the confusion etching into your features, “Not to pry much. But are ya washing yer under-stuff separately or somethin’? Or did’ja just forget to throw em in?”

And when you blink, brows furrowing, his heart spikes in anxiety.

“I just got back to takin’ care of ya,” he tacks on quickly, “Would hate to mess up again already.”

Your silence doesn’t help his racing heart. He risks a glance up at you, and-

You give a small, amused snort? Cute... but what’s so funny?

“You’re fine, Kay,” you shrug, giving him a relaxed, trusting smile of your own. Trusting, he notes, having his heart race for a different reason, “Neither of us missed anything. I just don’t really wear any these days.”

What?

“Not unless I really have to.”

He stares at you for a moment, lips floundering. His eyes nearly glance downward at your breasts, your crotch, holding his gaze on your face with great effort. Were… Were you not wearing any right now? Something about that has his blood rushing straight to his cock, a heat rising to his cheeks. But, stars, has he gotta pull himself together.

“Really?” He huffs back with his own amusement (a habit he’d learned from you… he has a lot of those), “Can’t say I really get it, but whatever makes ya comfy, Pipsqueak.”

The smile you give him is nearly his undoing as you return back into your room. He lingers, though, his eyes trailing down to the curve of your ass in those damn too short pajama bottoms. His tongue swipes across his bottom lip, eyes wide in curious wonder and… Well, his cock was starting to hurt in his jeans. Let’s say that.

“By the way,” he trills after a moment, needing wanting a reason to stick around a little more and imagine what your bareness must look like. How he could slip your shorts aside so easily and-, “Whatcha thinkin’ for dinner today? I’ll make whatever ya want. Call it a… reunion gift.”

You want to deprive him of fucking the remaining scent and discharge that lingered on your underwear? Layering it over his nose while he pumped his cock to the imaginary rhythm he uses to fuck you in his head?

That’s fine. He can punish you for it later. Once he has the ball rolling on your guys’ relationship.

For now, though, he’ll compromise. Improvise, even, and just fuck his cum into the crotch of your shorts and pants after you get done wearing them for the day.

He’s not picky.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I hope you liked this, whoever may be reading. It was fun. It's fucking haunting me that this is the first thing I wrote for my blog, but it was fun nonetheless. I'm a whore anyway, so it works.

CREDITS: Almost forgot since it's past midnight. The dividers are from thecutestgrotto. Eye banner is from the Harper's Bazaar x LADS Collab. All writing is done by me, w1ld-k4t.

[w1ld-k4t]

worlds slowest fanfic author tries really really hard

[w1ld-k4t]

ow

me: I write for myself, not validation

also me after posting a fic *refreshes ao3 every five minutes*

(two things can be true)

[w1ld-k4t]

coward ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ʰᵘʳᵗ ᵐᵉ

[w1ld-k4t]

"i don't comment on ao3 because i don't wanna be annoying or weird" skill issue + you greatly underestimate the power dynamic here, writing multi paragraph comments is like feeding a bunch of deeply insane and possibly starved ducks at the park and watch them go completely mad over having received a piece of bread

[w1ld-k4t]

it may take me a month to put out a chapter but at least im not using ai to write it.

it may take me a month to put out a chapter but at least im not using ai to write it.

it may take me a month to put out a chapter but at least im not using ai to write it.

it may take me a month to put out a chapter but at least im not using ai to write it.

it may take me a month to put out a chapter but at least im not using ai to write it.

IT MAY TAKE ME A MONTH TO PUT OUT A CHAPTER BUT AT LEAST IM NOT USING AI TO WRITE IT

[w1ld-k4t]

If you're an author of a fanfic (no matter if it's on-going or not) and writing on platforms such as AO3, tumblr, wattpad, etc. please know that there are readers who actively put fanfiction writings into ChatGPT

These people usually AI-generate new chapters for awaiting fanfictions, their impatience causes authors get their work stolen and fed to AI which actively harms people and their creative writing

Here is a post on Twitter on how to protect your fanfiction on AO3, to prevent someone from feeding it to ChatGPT

IF you are someone who does this and say that you "appreciate the story and a huge fan of a certain author's work" know that the author and the whole writing community hates you, congratulations! Because of your actions, not only have you harmed the environment but also harmed an author's writing. Stop.using.ai.