Masc4masc in a way where you argue who opens the door and who pays the check, and who walks on the street side of the pavement, and who carries whose bag, and…
just because i am mostly masc, doesn’t mean that i don’t like getting flowers or being surprised. i also like big gestures and being taken care of. it’s always me doing the gestures and not getting anything in return (not that it’s mandatory, but it feels nice to be and feel appreciated sometimes).
what a shame you’re not here. here to witness my devotion, and my endless well of needs. i’m an anchor in the ocean, you know i could never leave.
i do not give permission for my work to be copied or translated on other sites. plagiarism is a crime!!
main m. list || whispers of heartache m. list || you seem pretty sad for a girl so in love m. list
every now and then i remember how someone almost a decade older than me wouldn’t take “no” for an answer when i was a teenager. seeing that same person now pursuing another freshly turned 19-year-old just reinforces something i already knew: it was never about “maturity.” it was about finding someone easier to impress, manipulate, or pressure. i think that growing up is realizing that the adults who insisted you were “so mature for your age” usually weren’t interested in your maturity at all. they were interested in the fact that you were younger. and watching those same people repeat the pattern years later tells you everything you need to know. it’s funny how some people never seem to age out of pursuing teenagers. the teenagers get older, but their preferred age range somehow stays the same. that’s not a coincidence.
when i liked this person first, they would always say something among the lines of “oh but you’re too young for me. we have a big age gap.”, but as soon as i lost interest, suddenly the age gap wasn’t a problem, right? now they’re OPENLY flirting with another person the same age i was for anyone to see… interesting.
Agatha Harkness Mommy / Reader Nicholas FTM | AO3 | My Stories MasterList | Darkfic +DeadDove List | 2026 Trans Pride MasterList | Trans AU MasterList
Warnigs : INCEST / Mother + Son / Reader FTM Nick Scratch / Non Con / NON CON / DEAD DOVE DON'T EAT / Magic Prof Mother Agatha Harkness / Body Morph Magic / Reader g!p / MIND CONTROL / DarkHold Magic / Darkhold Fingers / Mommy K*nk / FTM Reader Caught / Toxic / Yandere / Rio Mentioned / Villian Origins / Witch Boy / Inbox Requested Ince$t Enough I just wrote it / Oneshot 2k Words / l@ctation Kink / M*lk / Choking /Virginity Kink / TransPHOBIA/18+
“You’re confused! THIS ISN’T YOU!” Agatha shouts, and you shake your head.
“I’m Nicholas now. Not Nichole, not Nicky, okay? You can’t talk me out of this.” You hiss, holding the blanket against your stomach.
Your mother had barged into your room, mid-change. She’d caught you in the binder, and you’d been unable to keep up the lie anymore.
Her face looked ready to lash out, to be cruel and unfeeling towards her only child.
Her blue eyes do not blink back at you.
“Is this, is this why Rio cut, shaved your beautiful curls, your hair-” Her voice is quieter, a whisper in the cyclone that just shook her home.
Your parents were divorced, and had been since you were young. All they did was fight, every parent-teacher meeting, every birthday, and now- while you were about to go away from school.
Your Mom was a professor at the local college and you hadn’t even applied for it. You’d gotten into a school across the US and you hoped it embarrassed her.
Just one last weekend, all you had to do was finish packing your room, and you were never going back. Back to this shitty town and your shitty bedroom walls.
This whole house was closing in on you.
It’s like somewhere deep inside of you - you knew your mother understood all this. Even before she’d ripped into your room, ready to yell at you before she’d seen you in boxers and a binder.
You both could always figure out what the other was thinking. So Agatha must have known before you said it, but still;
“Get out.” You say, in the same way your parents had said it to one another over the years.
Your mom's lip twitches, but she doesn’t move. She’d wearing a tank top and slacks from work. She’d been undressing from work when she’d busted into your room.
“Nicky- you can’t just-” She started again, and you lost your cool.
“GET OUT! YOU’RE THE WORST MOTHER EVER! YOU NEVER LOVED ME! YOU NEVER LISTENED! GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT OF MY LIFE!” You yell at the top of your lungs, and Agatha’s entire body flinches.
She stared at you as you’d just broken everything inside of her.
You wondered if this was how she’d screamed at your grandma.
If this was the legacy of the Harkness line, one failed family after another.
Two people who were supposed to love each other.
“I love you more than-” Agatha said but you caught her off.
“YOU ARE SUCH A LIAR! You can’t so much as hug me! You’re cold, villainous bitch! That’s why Papi left, that’s why you're going to die alone.” You make sure to hit all the major spots, not leaving her unscathed.
Agatha stares for another moment before she makes her move to walk out the door. But she twists the lock, her back turned to you, and your stomach drops.
“Mom-” You amp yourself up to yell more, not about to be locked in with your mother in a battle she wouldn’t win.
Agatha turns to you, a dead, gone look that you hadn’t ever seen before. Not even when Rio started to date again, not when you’d needed stitches, never
“Take it off.” She tells you, and your body grows cold.
“No, it’s my binder I can-”
“No, Nicholas, take it all off,” Agatha says, and the name falls from her mouth with no effort.
Something you’d craved your whole life, yet the threat gave you only the sense of impending doom.
“Mom-” You say again, but she shakes her head, and it dies in your throat.
“No, you are touched starved right? Is that it? I didn’t tell you the truth, right? Something is wrong inside of you? You want Mama to hug you more? You want to be the man of the house, fine. Take your clothes off, I’ll teach you.” Agatha says so monotone that you miss her anger. Miss her rage, anything that isn’t this.
“No, that’s fucked up! Mom, what are y-”
Agatha walks forward, and she rips the blanket out of your hold and you stumble back against the bed, and she yanks your boxers down.
Your untrimmed pubic hair on display now.
“You want to be the man? Fine, Mommy will make you the man.” Your Mother explained and you were pushed further up the bed. Your striped comforter is stained and the seams are ripping at the seams.
Her hands left bruises as she pushed and prodded until you were flat on the bed.
Your fight momentarily gone, too stunned at her body ontop of yours.
Your mattress sags under the weight of what’s about to happen.
“Mom! GET OFF ME!” You say, but you don’t push her, something about this feels… pre-determined. Like all roads came here.
“Nicky, I already signed you up for classes at the college. You’re staying home, do you understand?” Agatha says, and her thighs squeeze you, as her body straddles you like a boa constrictor.
“You don’t own me.” You say back eerily calm, and Agatha actually smiles.
“You don’t understand a mother's love, but you will.” She tells you, and your heart stops as her features turn seductive.
You’d had this dream, this wet dream where you’d woken up horrified at yourself. The idea of your Mother licking your cunt, of crying out for her. Maybe it was just the future. God what was wrong with you?
But here she was, Professor Agatha Harkness - the woman all your friends wanted to bang, the MILF, your own mother.
Your flesh and blood, and here she was smiling at you with all the heat of a black widow spider.
She thumbed the strap on her shoulder slowly, a heat, her breath coming out more labored.
Was she, was she getting off to this?
Your wet palms lay flat on the comforter; you couldn’t believe this was actually happening.
“You’re still a virgin, I know, I checked.” Your Mom tells you, and you don’t understand what that means.
Your mouth was dry as your clit pulsed with the thundering of a man's cock, you were getting off on this.
How could you not? Yes, she was your mother, but she was also a gorgeous woman. You hated her, you had fantasies about hitting her, but you were only a man. A man in the wrong body, yes, but something about this was….so wrong it was right.
As your Mother pulled the first strap down, she undid her bra and threw it onto your floor. The floor she’d cleaned up in your youth, the one now covered in dirty clothes and forgotten notebooks with wishes and hopes.
Your eyes finally cast down to her swollen nipples, the bud of which you had gnawed at with your mouth. Her breast sagged, time, childbirth, lactation, all of that, yes. But something in the evidence of your life together made you ache.
You hated yourself, you hated her, you needed to leave. To ignore this peep show of your own libido. You could do this with another girl, a woman of your own age, who didn’t cross this line. You had never condoned incest, not even in porn. So why now?
Agatha reached out, and took your damp, scared hands, and put her breast into it.
You felt the warmth, her heartbeat, the way those nipples that fed you pressed harder into your hand. They hardened even further, making Mommy moan, as you cupped her breast.
“You don’t need to be scared anymore, shhhh.” Agatha cooed like she had when you’d been upset.
“This is fucked up.” You stated, as if a jury of your peers could help you understand this. You didn’t drop your hand, staying there.
“Shh, watch this-” Agatha added, and her eyes turned purple. You felt fear and then - then a warmth washed all over you.
All fears gone, all hurt turned invisible, only you and Agatha.
“Why are we doing this?” You asked, losing your reason for asking why it was wrong in the first place.
“You’ll stay here, with me. You’ll be Mama’s Boy, no more Rio, no more girls, no more fighting. I’ll teach you, baby, I’ll teach you better than anyone. I’ll show you what true love can feel like.” Agatha told you, snapping her fingers, and she was completely naked….and you…
Your eyes cast down to see a real dick. Not the things you bought on the internet to fill your boxers, not the dildo you pushed inside of yourself in the dark night of your childhood bedroom.
Your mom was magic….actual magic, like the Avengers or some shit.
“Mommy’s big boy, can you listen to me?” Agatha asked you, and you nodded obediently, and you saw her own pubic hair. Her big bush matches yours, dark and curly, like mother like son.
Your mouth opened, completely gone, your own eyes turning purple now. Just like they had when you got really angry - when Agath had to push into your mind and stop it all. To restrict your magic, but no more - now you were going to be a good boy, obedient. Mama’s good boy would never disobey her again.
Agatha humped your new cock, loving how your hips tried to chase her.
The two of you couldn’t help but stare at the new member, at the sight of Agatha’s labia opening for her son out of need.
Her clit peaking out, arousal soaking your shaft, painting you hers.
By the time she reached up to your tip, Mommy would shiver and then push back down your meaty cock.
“Shhh, slow my baby witch.” Agatha laughed, actually laughed for the first time in decades. A weight leaving her, not wanting the lies and hurt anymore. Her dark fingers losing their glamor. This was it.
“What is this- how is-” You question, but Agatha humped your dick again and your eyes rolled back in your head.
Your right hand was squeezing her breast, and your Mommy wondered if she made herself produce milk again if you’d suckle.
If she could push you, just a little dark magic, Rio would never know.
“Mommy, please let me go inside.” You blubbered as you twisted under her.
Agatha bit her bottom lip in the dimly lit room and swore on Hecate that she would never let you go.
If you were to be a boy, then you were going to be a witch, Agatha would infuse your soul with the craft.
If you didn’t want her to be a perfect girl anymore fine, Agatha would just have to turn you into something new.
Her magic flared, purple radiating from her like heat waves.
Each one crashing into you with rays or warmth, or power you’d never even tapped into.
If this was to be your origin story, how you became the villain, than at least you’d hold your Mommy Issues in a new light.
Agatha wrapped both her hands around your throat, and you wanted her to squeeze.
The thought crossing your mind made her grin bigger.
“Mommy's good boy, you need pain baby?” She asked so sweetly you moaned out long and deep.
“Oh, we will be the most beautiful coven two, you and me, sweetboy.” Agatha told you, but your mind was already clouded over, thoughts only turned to chasing your mother's sweet cunt.
Agatha shook with the power, as your own magic came to the surface, licking at her own.
“That’s it, don’t stop,” she said in a voice you’d only heard in pornography. But Agatha lifted her hips just enough to let your mushroom-tipped cock slip inside of her. The same way you’d entered the world.
“I uttered no incantation-” Agatha started, but as she squeezed your throat impossibly hard, your hips jerked up, and you got three more inches inside.
Agatha’s mouth hangs open dumbly too now, not having someone inside of her since you were conceived. It felt right it was you.
“MOMMY!” You shouted, and Agatha’s hair flared at the ends like a witch in a VHS film you’d grown up watching, some sort of villain for folklore.
But her head lulled back, and you squeezed her breasts, making white-hot liquid shoot onto your face.
You flinched but let your tongue lick at it, milk.
Agatha’s full witch cackle scared you for a moment, but she couldn’t help it. So proud of your magic, taking what you want.
“Nicholas, don’t stop now, baby boy. Don’t stop.” Agatha yelled in your childhood room and you pushed harder into her velvet-tight heat.
“I-I’m-” you warned, but Agatha knew you wouldn’t last, not that it was your fault.
But Mama squeezed your throat and got to work, riding your cock with the practice of a woman centuries old. And the filth of a woman who’d watched you masturbate.
“MOMMY PLEASE PLEASE, MOMMY PLEASE PLEASE, MOMMY PLEASE PLEASE !” You chanted as you were too close to the edge.
“Repeat after me,” Agatha murmured, then spoke in a language you’d never heard of. Passed down from witch to witch, scribbled on cell walls, and murmured in every country.
You do it, though, she speaks, and your mouth moves like the language was one you’d always practiced.
Your heart felt like it was constricting, but the room grew hot, sweltering as you signed your lifetime away, to Mommy.
Your teacher in everything, and now your captor for centuries.
You shot load after load inside of her, and Agatha’s cunt squeezed her sweet baby boy.
You were no longer Nicky, a sweet girl in a small town. No, now you were something darker, a book in the basement blew open.
An evil bloomed inside of you, as Agatha’s orgasm brought new colors to flash behind your eyes. She collapsed on your body, the weight of her nothing compared to the weight of your new life.
But as your semen dribbled out of Mommy, you felt no fear. That was dead, long gone with who you once were.
You only had hunger now, with one truth above all else: whatever you were now, it was fine. Mommy will teach you.
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