#the transformer one fucks i really want to go back and buy it.

[diantha]

went to the grocery store today and i was very pleased by their pride cake selections

[machinavocis]

.

[txttletale]

imagine if you like bought a house and the realtor that sold you the house came by and did maintenance every couple months and it was a pretty good arrangement until one day they stopped doing maintenance and things started breaking them and you called them up and they were like 'surprise! we've decided what this house is really missing is a pool so we're going to build a whole new house for you that has a pool we are so excited about this pool' and you were like 'is this a deflection from your sexual harassment lawsuit you're involved in' and they were like 'the pool is going to be so cool!' and hung up and you didn't hear from them for years and then they called you up again and were like 'good news! we've built the new house, why don't you move in' and you were like 'oh, the one with the pool?' and they were like 'wellll yeah but we haven't actually installed the pool yet but when we do it's going to totally transform how you live in your house so you can see the value' and you were like 'i don't know i think i'll stay in this one' and they were like 'hmm yeah sorry actually you can't we're blowing the old house up with dynamite' and you were like 'what? why?' and they were like 'so that you're not split between your old house and the new one' and you were like 'um, fine' and you drove over to the new house and there was no pool or space for a pool and the realtor showed up to gave you the keys and you were like 'this house looks identical to the old one, i don't really understand why you did this' and they were like 'aha! you see, the old house had six rooms, this one has five!' and you were like 'that sounds worse, though' and they were like 'no you see with only five rooms it will be much easier to do maintenance on the house' and you were like 'but you haven't done that for months' and they were like 'yeah that was the old house which we've just blown up with explosives this is the new house' and you were like 'so how's that sexual harassment lawsuit going' and they leaped acrobnatically into their car like a trapeze artist and zoomed away and you went into the house and saw a coin slot on the bathroom door and called them and you could hear the background noise of a courtroom and they said 'yeah so you have to pay five dollars every time you use the bathroom now, it's our new monetization plan' and you were like 'well this is bullshit i feel like this house is just straight up worse' and they were like 'noo listen the pool is going to be so cool it's going to be so good we promise there'll be a diving board and a tiki bar and those water jets that give young people sexual awakenings' and you were like 'well okay' and they were like 'we've been building this pool for four years trust us it's going to be good' and then you didn't hear from them for a long long time except occasionally when they showed up to do maintenance and if you asked about the pool they just winked meaningfully and asked if you wanted to pay a $15/month fee for a bathroom pass giving you unlimited flushes and toilet paper. and this went on for a year until one day you got a voicemail 'dear resident. we're not going to build the pool lol' and you called them back like 'well what the fuck did you demolish my old house for' and they were like 'we actually gave up on the whole pool like two years ago but we did a whole announcement and it would have felt sooo awkward to walk it back' and you were like 'what the fuck have i been paying five dollars to use the toilet for over these last two years!' and they were like 'listen buddy if you don't like it you can buy the bathroom pass' and then they hung up on you . anyway that's what happened with overwatch 2

[katszumi]

bakugou katuski wasn’t sure how you managed to break his shell. he didn’t find himself surrounded by friends— shitty hair, raccoon eyes and dunce face forced themselves around him so they didn’t really give him a choice (though he secretly appreciated it).

but, you, tenacious, vexatious, obnoxious, you found your way to him. he despised how easily you spoke to him, like a mother to a toddler. do you know who he is?

it was first year. bakugou knew who you were, how could he not miss the clamorous sound, also known as your voice, every morning. you were aggravating, but you were tolerable. he realized that when you two were paired for an assignment. you were assertive, deeming that you could hold your own against his trivial insults. it wasn’t admiration that struck him that day. no, not even close. you just earned a little bit of respect.

soon after, you were attached to his hip. why? he couldn’t even answer that. every morning you’d meet him halfway at a local coffee shop to make your trip to ua, because “who wants to walk alone?” was your reasoning. he didn’t believe your statement, but he disregarded it. in fact, he looks forward to his morning walks with you every night, sometimes even waking up earlier than usual to buy the two of you a beverage before you arrived. a decaf coffee for himself and an iced coffee for you. “i was thirsty. it’s just a one time thing.” was his answer when you first asked, but you and him both knew it wasn’t.

you two had daily conversations: mainly about school, how deku has ticked him off for the millionth time, or some stupid shit you brought up to irritate him as a joke. you were the only person he could converse with and not feel completely enraged by the end of it. he supposed that your voice wasn’t so clamorous after all.

it wasn’t until after class 1a moved into dorms that he started to notice things about you. instead parting your hair in the middle, you did a side part. you often switched the two every couple of days. you preferred sweet candy over sour, but you were obsessed with spicy food. you routinely listened to the same artists; he makes a mental note to force you to listen to new music. you always exercised in the training room at six o’clock on the dot, never a minute before or after.

bakugou knew he was fucked when he began looking for you.

movie night in the dorms lounge? he consistently searches for your figure, because if you’re not there he’s simply not going. choosing partners for an assignment? of course, it’s you, it has to be you. who else would be able to bear with him? a new album was released from his favorite rock band? he waits to listen, because you had to be there.

he even found himself doing stupid shit for you. like holding your backpack for you, because ‘it makes your back ache’. cooking for you because you’ve overworked yourself, you needed the nutrients anyway. helping you study for the next test, groaning at how easy it is and you should understand it, but deep down, he doesn’t mind. he’d save a spot for you next to him on the couch whenever everyone would do a group activities, you don’t deserve to sit on the floor like the rest of the extras.

bakugou was gentle when he was around you, everyone noticed it too. at first, it was a revelation to his classmates, surprised that bakugou could do such sweet things. it felt as if bakugou was painted a new man on a perfect canvas. but, they soon realized it was only you he was this way towards. his aggressive behavior remained with the rest.

though, the man himself didn’t realize his transformation until denki mentioned.

“how come you don’t yell at y/n, but you scream at us all the time?”

bakugou’s face contorted with confusion. that wasn’t true. “the fuck you talking about, dunce face?”

he shrugged, “i don’t know. i just feel like you’re more chill with her than any of us.” mina and kirishima co-signed his words with a nod of agreement.

silence surrounded the room, bakugou’s eyes planted on the floor.

he wanted to say because it’s you, beautiful, determinate, fierce, alluring, you. but, instead, the corner of his lip quirked up into a smirk, his eyes dawning onto the golden-haired boy in front of him.

“she’s bearable.”

like always, his words failed to convey his true emotions. bakugou katuski knew you weren’t just bearable. oh no. you were a million things more than that; you were his anchor to his crazed storm.

[makeyoumine69]

Call Me Babydoll

— PAIRING: DBF!Patrick Bateman x Innocent!Fem!Reader

— SUMMARY: After eyeing Patrick Bateman — your dad's best friend — for so long, you finally have the opportunity to get him in your bed. But what are you going to do when you realize that Mr. Bateman is not as pure intentioned and chivalrous as you first thought?

— CONTAINS: Smut, Dom!Patrick, non-con that transforms into dub-con, light degradation (reader is called names), use of pet names (babydoll, little girl etc), Patrick is a fucking creep and goes down on her while her father is still inside the house, corruption kink, Daddy kink, oral (f receiving), nipple tugging/sucking/biting.

— WORDS: 2k

— SONG REC: Babydoll X The perfect girl (slowed & reverb)

— A/N: Well, I've been thinking a lot about returning to this concept, and the time has finally come. So, for now, I intend to make this a multi-chapters series, and I hope to bring all my ideas to life! Before you read this, I highly recommend you to read the intro (link below), please enjoy!

— LINKS: [INTRO]; [SERIES MASTERLIST]; [MASTERLIST]; [buy me a coffee]💓

Your heart was quivering in your chest like a caged bird, considering you had decided to take Bateman to your room while your father was still in the house doing something in his office.

As soon as you entered the room, Patrick hummed with amusement, hiding his hands in the pockets of his Armani pants. "Hmm, you like plushies, don't you?" He crooned, his voice filled with a strange excitement. 

"It's none of your business, Mr. Bateman." You tried to avoid his provocation, ignoring the way your face blazed from within.

"It's Patrick, Babydoll," the pet name sent shivers down your spine. "'C'mon, I thought you already got that."

Cautiously, almost like a cat, Patrick approached you, his expensive cologne enveloping you like an intoxicating mist, messing with your thoughts in your head. Bateman couldn't deny that the more you got embarrassed, the more it fed his ego, his need for power, his primal desire. 

"Why should I?" You rejoined him, pausing at your small bed, sensing his burning gaze between your shoulder blades.

He chuckled, so boyishly — you could even say it was quite cute, but this definition didn't really suit a man like him. 

"Oh, dear," Patrick made that cocky sound again, before closing the mere distance between the two of you. "You know, I really like this little game of... pretending to be so fucking innocent and untouchable," Bateman punctuated the last words with a low titter right into your ear — damn, he was so close to you that you could feel his hot breath fanning along your skin. "But right now it's unnecessary, since I know how much of a slut you are for me."

With that, he suddenly grabbed you from behind, yanking your hair back to bring you closer, grazing your neck with his sharp fangs, and you didn't even have a chance to make a sound as his big palm was already flat on your mouth.

"Now, now, little girl," he cooed in a husky voice, his heart about to burst through his chest from the sweet smell of your soft skin. "I'm sure you want this," his free hand ran shamelessly over your chest, teasing your already hard nipples, which only made him more cheeky as he mused. "Ah, Babydoll... you want to be corrupted, you want it so badly."

Hell no, you were not ready for this — Patrick's strong arms exploring your body once again, but this time more possessively since he was sure that no one could see you now. The way you shivered in his embrace made his cock twitch, and you could feel its hardness pressing against your lower back.

"Pat-Patrick," you managed to squeak softly before he pulled you into a hot, hungry kiss, his tongue sliding masterfully against yours, giving you no chance to resist, even though you were still trying. "My father—"

"Your dear father won't hear a thing if you keep quiet," he growled against your trembling lips, his self-control about to collapse at any moment as your taste drove him crazy. "You don't want to get caught, do you?"

A sharp, almost choked moan escaped your lips as his warm hand snaked under your top to play with your swollen peak, twisting and pinching it, your legs giving way almost instantly and if Bateman hadn't held you tight, you would have just fallen flat on the floor. Almost affectionately, Patrick made you sit on your bed, the surrounding air electric with the fluids of lust and desire between the two of you.

"Jesus Christ," he purred, kneeling down next to you, the cold metal of his gold Rolex brushing against the bare skin of your thigh, the brisk contrast in temperature forcing your toes to curl from your own arousal. "You're so sweet and cute," Patrick murmured briefly before planting a barely sensible kiss on your inner hip. "And so innocent."

"We.... We shouldn't be doing this," your breath hitched with the strange, tantalizing thrill. It was frightening, yet so fucking seductive that you were not sure whether you really wanted him to stop or never to stop. "My dad would be so mad!"

His sarcastic laugh bounced off the walls of your room. "(Y/n), you're a big girl now," he rubbed invisible circles into your tender skin, teasing you as skillfully as if he could read you like an open book. "You can make your own choices," Bateman's walnut eyes were so dark now, they glittered with undisguised lust and thirst — no one had ever looked at you like that before. "Besides, you don't have to be afraid, Babydoll. Daddy will just take a look."

"Daddy?" You asked, perplexed, but then you practically bit your tongue from the sudden burning sensation in your lower abdomen as his thumb reached your throbbing clit, rubbing it through the soft fabric of your panties. 

Your shy reaction elicited a mocking chuckle from his plump lips, now curled into a super-arrogant smirk. "Uh, you're shaking already, and I barely touched you," he parted your legs wider so that your skirt was now pulled up almost to your waist. "Fuck, I really like your skirt… did you buy it in a kid's store? It looks so girlish."

"Stop it!" You scolded and strove to close your legs, but his big palm wouldn't let you.

"Or what? You gonna cry and complain to your father?" Patrick leaned down to your mound, holding your thighs tightly, and without breaking eye contact, he swiped his tongue along your swollen lower lips, causing all your insides to cramp with unknown temptation. "I don't think he'd believe you, because you're just a little silly girl."

Enraged, you wanted to tell him to fuck off, but the tingling sensation of his hot tongue caught you off guard, your legs shaking uncontrollably as you found yourself as hypersensitive as you had ever been. Gently, Bateman stroked your inner thighs, never losing his grip as he expected you to try to fight again, but he knew how to make you surrender, because after all — sex was his territory and he was prepared to make you vulnerable and spread out for him.

"P-Patrick," you gasped as he did that motion again, this time more persistently, your lace panties already wet from both your juices and his spit. "I... I can't—"

"Can't form words?" He snickered against your flesh, sending vibrations right to your core. "That's okay, my dear," Bateman's silky voice only made the current situation worse, as you were on the verge of losing it now and then. "But believe me, this is just the beginning. And I'm curious, what would you say when I fuck you senseless, huh?" He paired his questions with a suck on your blushing bud, leaving the squelching sound behind. You had to tilt your head and grab the nearby pillow as you felt something pulsing in your womb, like a ticking bomb that was about to explode. "Fuck, if I keep going, I think I will get pussy addicted and your dad will really have to stop me."

With these words, Patrick stood up, only to throw away the pillow you were shielding yourself with, as he wanted to taste your hard nipples. Swiftly, he pulled up your top and growled as he saw your breasts popping out, his lips finding your little tip faster than you could even react. Whimpering softly, you grasped his head with how thirsty he latched onto your nipple, sucking it, trapping it between his sharp teeth, making you squeal every time he bit it, but as soon as he noticed your fingers tugging at his perfectly coiffed hair, Bateman finished his game with your tip, tugging it painfully before he mumbled: 

"Keep your hands to yourself, Babydoll," he brushed your hands away roughly, but then he gave you a warm smile. "You didn't deserve to touch Daddy's hair, not yet."

After admiring the result of his work, Patrick looked around for a mirror to check his hair and fix his red tie. He didn't even say a word to you before he left. The oppressive silence hung in the air, your lungs burning from the lack of oxygen as you found it hard to breathe. The only things you could feel were shame and disgust, but thank God that bastard decided to stop and you didn't have to tell him that you were a virgin, because you couldn't even imagine how cheeky and brazen he would get when he heard that information. Panting, you could still sense the heat of his tongue between your legs, and as soon as you tried to get up, you fell back from the strange, throbbing feeling in your core. Every single part of your body where he touched you burned as if you had been consumed by fire.

What did this devil, named Patrick Bateman, do to you? Did he just bless you with the curse of being possessed by him? What would you do now to save yourself? 

So many questions, so few answers.

It had been almost an hour since your father and Patrick had been drinking, discussing their business matters, and smoking their cigars in the living room of your not-so-fancy house. Embarrassed, you struggled to act natural whenever your dad asked you to bring him something, whether it was an ashtray or another bottle of whiskey, all the while keeping a straight face and ignoring all the playful glances Bateman was casting at you.

"You know, I'm so lucky to have a daughter like (y/n)," your dad suddenly declared as you handed him his favorite whiskey. "She's such a good girl, always so helpful and kind."

"Oh, I'm sure she is," Bateman murmured, grinning devilishly and scanning your trembling form with his dark eyes. "(Y/n), can you please do me a favor and bring me a glass of water?" He winked at you after puffing on his cigar.

Paralyzed for a second, you cleared your throat before answering. "Yes, of course, Patrick."

When you spoke his name, your father almost choked on his drink. "(Y/n)! Where are your manners? It's Mr. Bateman to you."

"Uh, sorry," you stammered as you watched Patrick's tongue swirl around the tip of his cigar in a way that only you could see it. "Just having a busy day… I'll bring you some water!"

With that, you stormed out of the living room faster than the speed of light, your heart pounding so rapidly that you could hear every beat in your ears. This man, oh fuck... this man made you feel so strange... so excited... so cursed. 

In the kitchen you grabbed the first glass you saw and with trembling hands you started to pour some water into it, splashing it around a bit as the only thing you could see behind your eyes was his fucking tongue flickering around his cigar. And worst of all, you found yourself thinking, if his mouth felt so good on you through your underwear, what would it feel like if you were naked?

A loud clatter of broken glass echoed around the house as you felt cramps in your lower abdomen, causing you to cling to the surface of the kitchen counter. Breathing heavily, you heard footsteps approaching, and you had no idea who they belonged to.

To your dad or to your 'Daddy'?

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update! Chapter 2 is here!💗

[uncouth-the-fifth]

good morning, charlie - Leon Kennedy/Reader

read it on Ao3.

Pairing: Agent!Leon/Detective!Wife!Reader Tags: domestic fluff with the tiniest dustings of background angst, married life, hugging, kissing, and snuggling. Words: 3k (yes, I'm capable of keeping something this short) Notes: read this in a WWE announcer voice: THAT'S RIGHT! UNCOUTH HAS COME CRASHING BACK INTO THE RING AFTER YET ANOTHER MONTHS-LONG HIATUS. i'm magical, truly. here is the first Leon fic I promised last month! There's so much I want to say about this little drabble, but I'll save that for my curious ppl on Ao3. this is going to be a big 180 from my spn content, and I sincerely hope that's okay with the public 😭 for my RE people: enjoy domestic Leon bullshit!

At two in the morning, Washington D.C. is pouring everything it has into crafting the coziest atmosphere of all time. A pleasant window-tapping storm had rolled in right around when you resolved to stay up working. Some late-night radio host is making soft, fizzing chatter in the next room, and coupled with a stellar view of the city from fancy floor-to-ceiling windows, you have a prime opportunity to pass the fuck out.

Unfortunately, you have made some spectacular life choices that don’t mix well with a full night’s rest. Nope, no sleep for you. Despite all of fate’s attempts to stop you from being a cop, (including throwing a city-wide outbreak at you on your first day), you are still here, gripping your job with both hands. At two in the damn morning.

Since scrubbing your eyes hadn’t woken you up the first five times you tried it, you give it another shot as you pace the length of your living room rug—from the coffee table you’ve stacked with files, then back to the whiteboard pasted top-to-bottom with pictures of missing young women. The whiteboard had been Leon’s idea. After the fourth time you’d transformed a flattened cardboard box into a morbid case-board for work, he’d cajoled you into letting him buy one for the apartment.

But I won’t be able to stab the tacks into it, you’d pouted.

Oh, the agony, your husband had drawled. He was a master of delivering a good, dry look.

You’d propped your fists on your hips and tried your best to look serious. The red yarn connecting everything isn’t just a detective-movie thing, y’know! It’s actually really useful. And I need my tacks to stick the yarn in—

Leon had cut cleanly through your building sass with another look, this time one glimmering with humor. Then I’ll get you magnetic ones, detective. Don’t you use whiteboards at the precinct anyway?

You’d grumbled. Because, yes, you did use whiteboards at the station, and they did have the little tacks with the magnets on the bottom. But you’d refused to deal with Leon being all smug (he was unbearable pretty when he was right), and had teased back instead, Whatever, nerd. Why don’t you and the other two angels go call Charlie already?

The reference had gone clean over Leon’s head. Of course, he hated being left out of a joke, so he’d roped you over by your wrist and pinched an explanation out of you until you were squealing with giggles.

Summarizing Charlie’s Angels to Leon had been a lot like offering a paper rocketship to an aerospace engineer. But, hey, picturing him running around in skimpy outfits and escaping action movie explosions on a motorcycle is a whole lot more fun than… than the real deal.

You don’t want to think about what his missions are really like. Not that you’re even allowed to know in the first place. Being Leon’s wife permits you a government-issued phone with his handler’s number, and on antsy days you can push Ingrid for details if you want. But after so long you’ve learned it only hurts both of you—for her, in the inability to answer, and for you, in the excruciating pain of being unable to know. Where is he? That’s classified.

She can’t always tell you when he’s coming home, either. So much of your life is hinged on her check-ins, and even more is forced to live off a simple, He’s okay.

For the seventh time, you scrub at your tired eyes and suck in a deep breath. You’d gotten that fabled text from Hunnigan—he’s okay—earlier today, and like always you crawled through the rest of your shift roiling with anticipation, waiting for Leon to materialize back into your life.

You force your gaze back to the whiteboard, littered with notes and pictures hung up with magnetic tacks. The faces of five missing women bore back. The ten-ton weight of your caseload slams down in full, and again, you scold yourself for floating back into comforting memories of your husband. These girls have lost all comfort in the world since they were taken. Your Captain gave you the responsibility of finding them, and after all you’ve been through, after all the other cases you’ve closed, there can’t be any room for failure. Think.

Your legs ache from being on your feet all day, chasing leads, but dropping into Leon’s armchair for even an instant will just have you nodding off again. More pacing it is, then. This is your pattern for the next half-hour: pace, re-read witness statements, turn, sip your coffee, pace, cross-reference alibis. He’s okay. Two of the girls were taken from Queen’s Chapel, two from Takoma, one from Woodridge. He’s fine. The last victim breaks the profile. What’s different about her? Why take her? Think think think— You know what Leon would do. He was the kind of person you could put in front of a problem, and no matter what he would find a way to shoulder his way through. With physical force, sure, but mental force too. He would sit and just look at the puzzle, and sheer willpower would lead him to some kind of answer. But you’d been pushing and pushing for days now, pursuing every lead, pressing every witness, yet nothing will give. The whole thing feels like a punching bag you’re beating at over and over again, knuckles raw and bloody—

Keys rattle just outside the front door.

First the big deadbolt scrapes open, unlatching with a heavy thud, and that sound alone is enough to shock you awake. More than any coffee could. Then comes the doorknob. Leon hasn’t even turned his key before you’ve twisted the lock open, yanked the door out of your way, and sent it whipping into the jamb with his keyring still swinging from its slot. You give him one full blink to register that it’s you before you’re throwing yourself on him without a single lick of shame, legs and all.

Of course, Leon bears your weight with grace. He grunts out an oof! when you come in for landing, and the living, breathing sound drains into one gruff laugh. You’re scooped up under the thighs and teddy bear squeezed against him. He reeks of cheap motel soap and something faintly coppery—then mint, a whole world of plush, wet spearmint when he nudges your face up with his nose and lays a hello kiss on you. The taste of his gum and the scratch of his stubble on your chin make your skin feel like it’s fizzing, inside-burning-out, every inch of you stood on end by his static charge. Jesus, this guy. He feels like fucking magic, and you’re confident that the laws of physics don’t quite apply around him. Everything in the room, in the too-big apartment that’s painfully empty without him in it, tilts toward Leon.

You shove your face nose-first into his neck and clutch the back of his jacket in both fists. Swallowing hard, you manage, “Hey, angel.”

“Good morning, Charlie,” Leon says.

If you had any resolve for today left in you at all, the wash of his sizzling butter voice would squash the last of it. You’d been trying to be sweet, but your husband has to be funny about fucking everything, of course. Even after weeks spent apart. You love him so fucking much.

“Don’t tell me you found time to watch that stupid movie.” Your voice is muffled by his coat, and you’re grateful for an excuse to hide.

You’re moving. Leon carries you inside, his wedding band pressing into your leg and his other big, warm hand spooned around your back. “Boring plane ride. I wanted to get your jokes.”

Your front door is toed shut, and with all the efficient maneuvering of a proper agent, Leon gets the place locked up behind you. Somewhere in all the commotion he’d dropped his go-bag by the welcome mat, and you hear the dramatic thunk, thunk, of his fancy work loafers being kicked off beside it. Only then does he slip you onto your own feet again.

Your hands slide down his arms as you make contact with the floor. Somewhere in the back of your mind you’re aware that he’s damp from the rain, but that fact hangs in the little alternate universe he’s made in your front hall. Standing there and being able to look at him straight-on, Leon doesn’t feel real. It’s like your constant thoughts of him have manifested a ghost in his shape, mimicking the smiley rookie you remember.

He greets you with a quiet, beaten-down smile, and you understand immediately that the world has thrown its fair share of punches at him, too. You’ve both had a shit week. The Kennedy surname just brims with good luck, huh?

Your hands work on autopilot as you take him in, slipping under the fabric of his jacket and lingering over his thudding heart. His warm blue gaze swims over your face, and you can almost hear the clicking mechanisms in his head as he forces himself out of operative mode and into home mode by looking at you.

“It’s a really bad movie,” you say, choked up.

Leon’s jacket hits the floor with his shoes. There’s a swath of ugly, purpling bruises crawling up his bare arm, old enough to be greening at the edges, and your stomach churns when you see it.

He taps your chin up, pulling you away from the damage and back on him. His voice rolls over you like bourbon in a glass. “Absolutely. So-bad-it’s-good, even. We should watch it, make fun of it together. Like, why the hell does…”

Leon flawlessly falls into an analysis of the movie’s poorly-written espionage elements. The movie you made one offhand joke about several weeks ago, mind you. He’s pulling at straws, saying whatever the hell comes to mind to make you laugh, so exhausted he’s literally swaying on his feet. You can’t believe he’s trying to distract you with something so trivial, but this is your husband. One flash of that weary closed-mouth smile, one brush of those callused hands down your wrists, and your whole world resumes its orbit around him.

You laugh at the jokes he’s obviously crafted for your benefit, a weak chuckle your heart isn’t in. With his hands looped around your wrists, he guides your arms around his neck and welcomes you back into the toasty bubble of his touch. Leon’s even warmer from being tucked underneath his coat. Pure goodness and safety glows off him like a fucking nuclear reactor, and it dawns on you that you haven’t felt safe at all since he left. Anyone can be plucked off the streets here.

One more scratchy kiss and then he’s leading you deeper into your apartment. No one on Earth would believe that he’s a chatty guy, but he talks the whole way through. Too often he’s left to sit in his own mind on missions, and you’re treated to two week’s worth of his backlog in the next ten minutes. All the little things he wanted to say to you. The streams of smart-mouth commentary he was famous for at the academy are all inner monologue now, but you’re confident the Leon radio show still runs twenty four hours a day. He chatters so much in his head that it slips out of him like water sometimes—

“…that close to an explosion would disintegrate you, but fuck physics I guess—“ Leon interrupts his own flow of thought to squint at you. “Quit looking at me like that. It’s unfair how pretty you are when you’re tired. What was I—not like the laws of physics apply to that movie anyway, but…”

—and you’re stupidly charmed by it. He talks to comfort himself, and because the two of you are one unit, one person to him, he does the same for you.

With your hand tethered in his, he clicks off the radio in the kitchen. One of Leon’s side-stories replaces the random late-night station that’d been playing, floating over the din of the rain like bass over relaxing drums. He pours out the dregs of your coffee. He closes the files full of gruesome crime scene photos on your coffee table, and you watch, barely able to keep your head up, as he flips your whiteboard over to its blank side. You’ll get his second opinion on the case tomorrow.

Leon sweeps the place with you in tow, and once the security system’s armed and you’re almost sagging against him, the lights come off. Though you’ve had plenty of time to adjust to the Leon that returned home from training, you’ll never get used to the little alien ticks it’s given him. He navigates to your bedroom in complete blackness. He avoids the creaky floorboard just outside your door without seeing, deathly silent. The broad presence of him looms in the dark.

One wall of the bedroom is nothing but paneled glass, throwing a long square of dark blue moonlight over your rumpled comforter. While the view of the Potomac and Capital Hill is stellar from up here, you’ve always felt out of place among the things Leon’s generous salary has earned the two of you: a flat with a private elevator in the nice part of town, fresh-off-the-press sports cars, a getaway cabin up north. So much of it you end up enjoying by yourself. It only ever feels worth it when he’s here, smacking his elbow into the digital wall-panel that controls your A/C.

“—s’ supposed to be a touch screen,” he sidebars himself for the tenth time. Softer, Leon adds, “Brush your teeth. I’ll be right there.”

You rope your arms around his middle and press your face into the heart of his back, careful of the bruises he’s doing his best to hide. “Wanna wait for you.”

Leon doesn’t protest. There’s more little beeps as he screws with the temperature of your mattress or something, deciding, “We live in a damn spaceship. Are we too good for plain old-fashioned buttons now?”

Apparently you are, since old man Leon fails to figure out how to crank the heat up. You let him play with it for a little while longer (it’s not his fault he’s rarely home), and then intervene with a few quick taps when things get dire. The heater hums to life under the floor a beat later, and he turns in your grip to scoff, mystified by your vast and incredible knowledge.

“My smart girl,” he hums.

Just that is enough to chip off a piece of your strength. Had he said that to you over the phone, a million miles away in god-knows-where, your knees would buckle. He is the only one who talks to you like that—with so much simple, uncomplicated love. Too tired to put your thoughts into words, you flatten a hand over his heart and kiss the sun-freckled nape of his neck.

“Clingy,” Leon mutters. You’re pretty sure it’s supposed to sound dry and funny, another one of his jokes. But then he’s smoothing both of his palms down your arms in two long handsy swaths, and the gesture tells you everything about just how clingy he’s feeling, too.

His stories make getting ready for bed an even slower affair. You couldn’t mind if you wanted to. As you help him out of his starchy dress-shirt button by button, he surprises you with a rare explanation of where he’s been for the last weeks. The UK. Truly, your husband is the special secret agent to end all special secret agents: he talks around his job as if it was a bump he’d hit on the way home, entertaining you instead with his Leon-ified vision of London. Touristy as shit. Loud as shit. Smelled like shit.

“Just like DC,” he chuckles, and then a second time when your fluffy head pops through the collar of the sleep shirt he’s dressing you in.

It’s too much rough, cinnamon spice laughter for one woman to stand. You duck away to brush your teeth and groan into your palms like a schoolgirl over him, but sure enough, Leon trails you, fingers chasing the hem of your shirt (his shirt) in a sleepy daze. He always keeps you in view. Nervous, maybe, to have you out of his sight.

This tradition continues when the two of you crawl into bed. Your eyes have adjusted to the darkness, and so has your body, able to sense him on the stupidly expensive mattress beside you. He thinks you can’t tell, but his gaze roves over you again and again—down your back when you flop face-first into the plush bedding, over the slope of your shoulder when you wiggle under the covers. Leon draws you into the glorious halo of his body heat with a gentle hand on your belly. If you could bottle this feeling, the whole world would be sick and stupid for him in hours. Minutes even.

You feel so safe that the word doesn’t even come to mind. Just vague, peaceful shapes of things you know, home, sleep, cologne, cozy. His work-rough palm with his body-warm wedding band slips under your tee to sweep over your ribs. Then comes Leon’s face, just on the right side of stubbly as he shoves it between your shoulder blades without a single lick of shame. The breath he takes of you is so heavy that his whole frame shudders with it, top to bottom.

You remember how you’d burrowed into his jacket the second he got home and think, You are me and I am you. We’re always on the same page.

With that, the stage is set. DC’s faraway glittering cityscape lights up all the raindrops on your window, and you watch them run as the two of you melt into one another. Leon’s warm breaths slow across your neck. Time for you to deliver your line.

You wet your lips and murmur into your pillow, “Do you want to talk about your mission?”

Legally, he can’t say yes. Government secrets, bureaucracy, yadda yadda. Leon isn’t always emotionally ready to crack open a coffin he’s just finished sealing, either, but while it is his job to close your case files for the night, you’re his wife. You’re the only person who can knock on that door. With how little choice he has left in his life, you try to give him options whenever you can. Regardless, you know the man you married—strong-willed on a mythical fucking level, and just as self-sacrificing. He’ll always try to spare you.

Sure enough, Leon says, “Tomorrow. Do you want to talk about your case?”

You shake your head at him, exhausted to the point of dizziness. “Tomorrow.”

A tender kiss is pressed to the nape of your neck, and the whole world goes silent for the perfect, husky whisper you’ve ached to hear. You feel his wry smile against your skin. “We’re always on the same page, baby.”

[floral-ashes]

🚨📚 Today is release day for my new book Gender/Fucking: The Pleasures and Politics of Living in a Gendered Body!

Asking what we can learn from sexual arousal, the book takes an incredibly raw and thought-provoking look at community, queerness, fetishization, trauma, and hope.

I decided to go with an indie press that believed in the book and its transformative potential. But it means we don’t have the marketing budget of Penguin et al. I really need your collective help with spreading the word about it. Because it could benefit so many.

Early readers told me it’s a book that unmakes you and puts you back together piece by piece. It hurts, it troubles, and it nourishes. It gives voice to truths that were hidden deep in your bones. That’s how I felt writing it, and what I hope I get to share with all readers.

I’ve joked a few times with friends that this is a book best read one orgasm per chapter. But it has more than a grain of truth to it. I do believe that we can learn from arousal, instead of seeing it as the antithesis of knowledge. Don’t disavow the truths of the body.

The book is an ode to the messiness of human experience. I wrote it as a way of healing and of connecting with others. While I foremost wrote it with other queer and trans people in mind, everyone can see themselves in this book and gain from it. We all share in humanity.

This year has been rough, between the intense harassment, death threats, and hate hitting really close to home. Knowing that this book was coming out has sustained me. Knowing that I would have this moment of community, of shared passion, has been a balm on those psychic wounds.

Once you get your copy, post pictures and share your impressions as you read under the hashtag #GenderFucking. You can also tag me! This book is a journey. You will feel deeply. You will have many thoughts. Some challenging, some cathartic, some freeing. All worthwhile.

You can also help me out by posting reviews on Goodreads and Amazon. If you want to write a longer review for a blog or a magazine, or suggest it for review at your favourite newspaper or magazine, that would be tremendous! All help spreading the word is truly appreciated.

Ignite the flames of passion and curiosity. Join me in embracing the raw, vibrant truth of our gendered existence.

Find it at your local bookstore or order it online here (USA).

For those outside the USA, I created a list of places you can buy it online. It also lets you suggest more websites that carry it.

[earphonejackx]

AN: IN HONOR OF QUANXI COMING BACK I DECIDED TO MAKE THIS🤭

☠︎ Quanxi x Fem! Reader (slight NSFW)

☠︎ Since Quanxi technically did die like in part 1 of csm, I’m gonna alter her personality justttt a bit, she’ll still be the same but she’s a little more different in this trust.

☠︎ Ima just go right off that bat, this lady is PROTECTIVE of you. She will under no circumstances will allow anyone to hurt you. She wants to protect because she feels guilt about her last relationship and how she wasn’t really about to protect her girls, and she feels like she needs to protect you :( (my poor baby)

☠︎ Quanxi definitely will brun herself out sometimes so it’s best if you try to comfort her or be her emotional support. “[name] come sit. I want you rn.”

☠︎ Now we don’t really know too much about Quanxi’s new job, but I do know that she’s probably still an assassin. So most likely if you do work with her she’d probably gain feelings for you like that. Or if your just an ordinary civilian that just so happens to live next door to her. She might also have a watchful eye for you

☠︎ Quanxi DOES NOT like fighting in front of you. She tries to keep that devil shit out the door. It’s no secret to you that she is a hybrid devil herself buttt she wouldn’t want you to see her fight because she believes your too innocent for that. She needs to protect her sweet angel at all costs. But of course she rarely even transforms cuz she’s already so strong without doing it

☠︎ Quanxi loves taking baths with you for some reason. She was never really a big fan of baths because she was so used to “wash up and get out.” But she loves taking baths now, she likes to wash you down herself, even where your most intimate parts are.

☠︎ When you and Quanxi cuddle, she likes to be the big spoon always. She likes to have a protective hold on you as she sleeps to know that your okay. But it might be a problem if you have to pee “Quanxi get up I have to pee.” “No.”

☠︎ Quanxi loves loves loves cafe dates, she used to always take her girls there and she’d thought it be nice to keep her little tradition going

☠︎ Quanxi surprising actually knows how to play basketball really well. She likes to flex on you as she plays against you sometimes.

☠︎ We all know Quanxi has a shit ton of toys and she’s not afraid to use ‘em. She likes teasing you with her strap so much 😭 “Quanxi quit fucking teasing and fuck me!!” “Pushy are we?”

☠︎ We all know that she is a Tity grabber. She likes to hold ur Tity for emotional support, or she just lays on your chest.

☠︎ Quanxi likes to take you shopping from time to time. She has so much money so why not spend it on her favorite girl? She will let you buy till your hearts content! Go wild. She’ll hold all your bags with ease.

☠︎ Eventually you’ll run into Quanxi’s old co-worker… she doesn’t like him at all so she quickly takes you by your waist and moves on with her day. “Quanxi who was that?” “Oh? That was nobody to worry your pretty little head about.”

☠︎ Quanxi is always thinking about your safety nowadays especially since your a human and she knows you guys have extremely short life spans, bonus points if your a devil hybrid yourself, she is very happy because you can’t really die yk?? Do you’ll be together forever

☠︎ One day when Quanxi thinks the time is right she give you a promise ring to show her dedication to you. “I want you to be with me.” She says oh so graciously

☠︎ Annnd last but not least, Quanxi will someday take you both out on a luxury vacation and she and you both will have the time of your lives.

[pyreo]

I've never thought about this in the 11 years I've played but I just realised gw2 must look.. pretty zany to outsiders? It didn't even occur to me. I'm really glad it's in a low fantasy setting that allows for pretty much anything and I think it's inkeeping with the focus on player creativity in an MMO to have that kind of range.

Like I know the overall aesthetic can get wacky but because that's so fitting for a multiplayer game... it's never occured to me that anything looks odd.

Like, here's a screenshot of me, someone's bird, and some lovely folks from the last pride march

Like real pride marches, being over the top and loud is the point. We have the tools to do that, even in regular gameplay. I think it's fascinating that nothing about this feels out of place. Magic in this universe does practically anything you want it to. Technology varies from nonexistent to far beyond real life. There's a massive range but everything feels kind of.... justified?

Some people will wear fantasy armour and keep everything on a theme. Some people are going to group transform into giant frogs and some people are going to cosplay as Johnny Bravo. It happens. The game doesn't mind. It doesn't shy away from people being incredibly weird. I remember the devs recalling a decision they had to make about letting players jump on top of a plot-important table where NPCs sat for serious discussions. The decision was they they shouldn't stop people from doing that if they wanted to.

The openness of the setting means these are all things that could exist. People reanimate corpses here for the hell of it. The weapons are magic and can be literally anything. The mounts are all creatures that have been tamed, or vehicles someone could have invented. Even the living plushie mounts are lore-compliant because... magic.

But on top of this, this game has one of the most sincere stories of anything I've ever played? Whether it's to your taste or not, I don't think you could deny how much care goes into it. From terminal conditions to villains having tantrums over childish insecurities to symbolic anticapitalism to racial superiority rallies, it has treated its topics with dead-solid respect. It does not undercut its serious moments - but it allows you the privilege if you'd like.

Maybe it's the balance of being so immersed in that that's stopped me from thinking any of this looks silly. The players can be silly, sure. Maybe there's a kind of game-and-player suspension of disbelief. We tell our story, and you have your freedom, and for the most part they won't intersect (except for the infamous Wynne cutscene).

In the MMO space there's other ways to approach this. You've got ESO which holds back very tightly to its high fantasy setting. That's for people with different tastes who don't want anything aesthetic-breaking in their game, and they have to cut back the player freedom to get it while trying to introduce a steady stream of new armours that can't be too interesting. They have magic, but don't go too far. It also means you get deals begging you to come to the cash shop to buy, like, rags. Fun rags for your character!

Then inbetween those two there's 'your name has to be lore compliant but fuck it, flying convertible'

[cry-ptidd]

Me and my sister watched Hellsing together. Here's her opinion on the characters

- Alucard: "He's a cunt, but he's entertaining. I'd probably pay to see him in a strip club. I didn't like him and his shit-eating grin and 'master' bullshit at first, but he grew on me quick and i don't like that he grew on me. He's a complex character, and he's hot asf when he cries. Also I wish we'd seen his Dracula form for longer; that was awesome. Him and Anderson had a thing going on."

- Seras: "Didn't really mind her at first, but liked her after she drank blood. Her transformation and the guns are really fucking cool. I didn't like her voice and her whining at first but it got better after a few episodes. I like her when her personality became a little bit more spunky. Her story's fucked up."

- Integra: "Absolute bad bitch. Her attitude reminds me of myself so idk if I should like it or hate it, she's got a lot of pride which I respect. Really human and I like it, she takes no one's shit and she's a badass. Didn't even FLINCH when she got her eye shot out. Girlboss. She gives me ace vibes also."

- Walter: "I liked him, he was funny. And then he betrayed everyone and became emo. He gave good advice, and he was cool as hell with that wise older veteran vibe. I'm disappointed in him, but the plot twist was actually good. You'd notice the signs if you suspected him from the beginning."

- Pip: "He's FINE. I'd braid his hair any day. I was in love and then I mourned. I'm widowed. He was hilarious, plus his voice actor nailed the French. My favorite character. Screeched when he came back. He's a good leader and I loved his speeches, also his death made me cry. And I don't often cry when watching anime."

- Anderson: "kinda neutral. I didn't like him at first, he was obnoxious as fuck. Then he respected women and opposed Maxwell and his orders so he grew in my esteem a bit. His character is cool as fuck tho. I wish he didn't turn into a monster, he fell to the same level as Alucard. It's like human greed or desperation for power. Him and Alucard had a thing going on."

- Enrico Maxwell: "Lucius Malfoy. I hate him but not the one I hate most."

- Heinkel & Yumie: "Really like these two lesbians. So cool and I respect their resolve, especially Heinkel's. Rip Yumi. You were cool. Heinkel being intersex is a dope detail, she's very androgynous too. I like their designs."

- The major: "Augustus Gloop? I like the fact he refused vampirism, that was cool, but he's an actual fucking sociopath and I hate him"

- The Captain: "Ngl, I actually find him quite dope, aside from the nazi thing. Literally no one respected him, that shit had me crying. His face is pretty and his tits are big, even if he looks a bit goofy at times. Wish we'd seen more of him. I felt kinda bad when he got defeated."

- Schrödinger: "I want this thing dead"

- Rip van winkle: "She gives me the vibes of a Dr Seuss character."

- Zorin: "Bleach Ichigo knockoff. Fuck this bitch in particular I hate her"

- The Valentine brothers: "A slav squat necrophile and his gay brother that used to be a runway model but got cancelled after a scandal"

Overall: A hit, neither of us expected her to like it. She likes the political and literary aspects, and also finds the characters interesting. She doesn't really know how to feel about the ending; she considers it realistic and a good end, but she wished it was more epic. But from a writing perspective it's good. Also she lowkey wished Alucard would turn Integra into a vampire, just because it would be cool. Now we send each other memes about it. She calls Nendocard a whore when she passes by him, but says she'd buy a Pip nendo in a heartbeat

[inkdrinkerworld]

"you love me?" "i always have." valentines confessions w rockstar!james!!!!!!! love u happy valentine’s day!!!!!!

you and james have a weird relationship.

james is a rockstar, and he drags you along to every venue when you’re available and done with your job.

journalism is easy to move around and you can write wherever james is depending on the story, and it makes your friendship work.

you’re there for his successes and he’s always there when you get big stories to cover- you’re each other’s biggest fans.

except, you think james has changed. he’s become more than a friend and it’s happened when neither of you were looking.

james is practicing his drum set when you find him, drumsticks banging on the miniset in his house and you feel your heart speed up.

he’s prettiest at home in nothing but sweats. his curls are inky and a little damp, his brown arm muscles bulging as he hits each drum.

you’d come over to talk to james about the bouquet he had sent to you.

it wasn’t just real flowers, they had lego lilies and tulips in a separate vase- your absolute favourites.

“jamie,” you say, quiet as a mouse compared to his drums. “james.”

he stops, looking up at you breathing hard, and then smiles.

“hey pretty girl,” his smile spreads wider at your bashful smile. “you got the flowers?”

he’s too pleased with himself at your shy nod.

you reach into your bag and offer your own gift to james. you’re not sure when you both started getting each other valentine’s day gifts, but it was a cute tradition.

“open it, maybe you’ll use this one for longer.” you confuse james but when he comes over to you and rips off the wrapping paper and sees the box he gasps.

“no fucking way!” he all but screams, hands quick to take off the lid and reveal black drumsticks with his initials engraved into them.

“baby!” his tugs you into his chest and if it were sirius or remus all sweaty and pulling you into them, you’d push them away.

but james is warm, he smells like a campfire, toasted vanilla and home.

“turn them over,” you whisper and james does so quizzically.

‘my big drummer boy,’

“i love you,” the confession comes quick from james, effortlessly, like he’s said it for years.

you pull back and look up at him, “you what?”

his smile ages him down, transforms him to seventeen year old james who put chocolates in your bag, or that one ring that you never leave home without.

“i love you, i’m in love with you. i adore you, whichever variation you’d like to hear pretty girl; but it’s all true.”

“you love me?” you ask stupidly and james laughs, his lips press to your forehead.

“i always have, loved you forever and a half.”

you beam and wrap your arms tighter around his middle, “i love you james, always have, forever and more than a half.”

he laughs again and squeezes you to his chest. “wanna go out? the press will think it’s a regular day out for us, and really we’ll be snogging in the middle of the ivy.”

“whatever you want jamie, as long as i eat ice cream at some point,” and you do, james buys one ice cream that you both share, the taste of mint chip swapped on your tongues.

[mr2swap]

Gymswap: the first case

Yeah that's me, and I'm not talking about the arrogant and sweaty young man who is posing in the center of the photo but the fat and bald old man in the background... but I used to be, My name is Danny and although it may not seem like it, I'm only 20 years old , I was hired as a model for a new chain of gyms that will begin rolling out across the country next year.

I used to be used to all the brands fighting over me, after all I have a ton of followers who would buy whatever shit I was wearing or eating, I used to be used to getting a ton of merchandise from my sponsors and all they wanted was a photo of me with all that shit while flexing my muscles in front of the cameras, I miss my life… and my body.

I thought it would be just another job and just focused on the huge number of zeros on my paycheck. They took my perfect, hot body and gave it to a perverted obese old man named Bruce, and when I realized what was happening now I was Bruce.

A fat 55 year old single man who lives in a tiny apartment and has a crappy job as a telemarketer, Every day I have to go through the horrible humiliation of going back to that crappy Gym and training Bruce's fucking body while I do it. I watch mine "train", I feel disgusted every time I'm inside Bruce's body, but… I signed that fucking contract and if I refuse to give my body to that fucking old man they're going to sue me for every penny in my bank account… I'm super fucked up.

I have been in these sessions of 3 hours a day training in Bruce's body for 2 weeks and I have only lost 1 kilo, the contract that I sign says that everything will end when I finish putting Bruce's body back in shape… so I will be in this I work much longer than I thought.

And while I sweat all of Bruce's fucking fat on the treadmill he does everything he can to make me uncomfortable, there is no corner of my body that Bruce hasn't touched with my bare hands, at first he listened to me when I told him how to exercise my body now he doesn't It does more than pose in front of the cameraman and showing off my own body that it cost me so many years and effort to build.

Thank god I'm done training for today, I just have to take a shower in Bruce's horrible hairy body and I can go back to my body, It's so strange to be in Bruce's body, of course I'm totally straight but... Watching my own body getting naked and worshiping, kissing his own biceps and licking his doubtful armpits like a fucking pervert in front of the mirror and in front of everyone in the gym who doesn't know what's really going on makes me so horny, it's disgusting to feel the small cock that I now have between my legs hardened while I try to use one of the gym equipment.

When I'm alone in the shower I unload what's left of my energy into massaging Bruce's tiny cock with my fingertips, it even fucking feels better than when I do it on my real body. It is so sensitive that the bathrooms are filled with my moans in my thick old voice.

 Who knew there's still a little cum left on these wrinkled old balls?

Hey! You can support me to continue creating stories, see similar stories on my patreon, you can also join my discord if you are interested in role-playing about bodyswap, possession and transformation, m2m!

[artificial-transmutations]

Two sides of the same coin - Road to Success

"You know, they should just, like, close that place down." Alden said and took another deep drag. Devan, his pal, nodded eagerly and waited for Alden to give him the blunt.

Both young men sat at their usual spot in the park opposite of the big Financial Applications Partnership bank and smoked weed. Other guys in their age were probably in college right now, learning for their future, but not those two. They started smoking weed together back in high school and had not stopped ever since. Learning, working or earning money was such a foreign concept for them. Sure, they had their part time jobs to pay for rent, but it was not something they enjoyed doing or wanted. It was a necessity in that exploitative capitalistic system they had to live in that didn't let two fine young men do what they wanted all day long. In their case, this was relaxing in the park and smoking weed. Fuck the system, really.

"Or really, all the banks." Alden continued. "Who needs money anyway? Right?"

Finally, he passed the blunt to Devan who took a drag and smiled.

"Yeah dude. Money is the worst."

Then, he made a serious face for a moment and asked. "But imagine, dude. What would you do if you had like, a ton of money? What would you buy?"

Alden was distracted for a moment by a glittering object next to his old sneaker. When he picked it up, it was a shiny coin, sparkling in the sunlight. He pocketed it quickly. He kept his money in his pocket because he believed that wallets were for rich people.

Too late he realized that Devan had asked him a question.

"Sorry dude", he smiled, "what were you saying?"

Devan shrugged and took another puff before passing the blunt over again.

"If you had, like a million dollars or even a billion. What would you do with it?"

Alden thought about it for a while, then answered honestly.

"I'd probably spend it all on weed." Then he smacked his forehead. "No, wait! I probably couldn't smoke all that weed by myself, right? So, I would just buy everyone weed, tons of weed."

Devan laughed heartily.

"Yeah man. And we could have parties every day!"

They both laughed at the idea of having parties every day. That sounded great to them.

"But how would I even get so much money?"

Devan looked around and pointed the building at the other side.

"Perhaps you'd work at the FAP bank?"

Both laughed again, the notion was ridiculous.

"Then I would probably, like, need to go to college or even university, right? That sounds like so much work."

Some subtle changes occurred to Alden's face. His hair straightened itself and his beard got a little less messy.

"Yeah, and look at you, you wouldn't even be accepted by university. Not with these dirty shoes of yours." Devan joked and took the blunt back. Neither of the two men found it odd in the least as Devan’s own shoes dissolved suddenly, leaving him bare-footed. Shortly after, his feed became black and leathery, becoming clean black lace up shoes.

Alden nodded and got out of his shoes, putting on the new ones that were Devan’s feet just a few moments ago.

"But if I were in university, I would probably ace all my classes, because I'd be really smart. And don't forget I'd play baseball. I'd be the star of the team and win all games."

This time, the changes were more extreme. Alden’s body pumped up with muscles and his new shoes transformed into cleats.

"You would need proper baseball pants for that. No way you could play with those torn jeans."

Immediately, Devan's pants vanished and revealed his legs, balls and cock, which quickly began to change. While his legs became a pair of white baseball pants, his cock and balls hardened into a sports cup and jockstrap.

"Duh, of course." Alden was already discarding his old pants and fastened the athletic cup around his groin with the jockstrap before he pulled up his new pants.

"It would of course take a while to graduate, but I would surely be top of my class. I could apply at the bank then."

Alden quickly gained a few years and his whole appearance became more cultivated. His beard disappeared and his hair became well-groomed and dyed blond.

Devan, who was now literally only half the man he used to be laughed. "As if they would even consider you if you showed up in a t-shirt. A button-up is the least they'd expect."

Immediately, his torso flattened and folded in on itself, depositing his head on the bench with the blunt still in his mouth. What was once his arms and chest formed into a neat white button-up shirt.

Alden nodded seriously and changed into his new shirt. He looked smart and neat now, with his muscles straining the shirt just the right amount.

"Of course, I can't expect to make a fortune from one day to the next. It will take me at least 20 years of hard work to establish myself in the company and raise through the ranks to upper management."

Even his speech pattern was different now, but his changes were not quite over yet. His hard earned university muscles degraded somewhat again, as more and more years piled up in him, leaving him a mid-40s ex-jock. Still attractive, but with the hard cold eyes you need in order to be really successful.

"Just imagine wearing a tie everyday..." Devan joked, as the last part of him, his head, changed and transformed into a blue silk tie.

Alden nodded politely and quickly put on his tie with movements he did a thousand times before. Then he grabbed his cigar that had fallen to the bench next to him and sighed. That cigar did cost more than other men earned in a month. Still, it had fallen to the dirty bank, so he would have to throw it away. It didn't matter. He was successful and rich now, what did he care for people less successful than him?

He straightened his expensive suit and walked back to the FAP bank. Time to make more money.

If you like the theme, be sure to check out my other stories of the same kind!

[sunnyrealist]

Chapter 17: You're Safe With Me

The Sun, the Moon, and All Our Stars

Summary and Details…

Artwork Credit: All of the artwork for this chapter was created by the incredibly talented @giselsann-opencommissions, who always impresses me! Check out her work if you're looking to commission some fanart! Chapter Background and Summary: Sebastian happened upon a perfect gift for Kate - Annamese (modern day: Vietnamese) cinnamon. He was outrageously excited and can't wait even one more day to give it to her. He decided that he was just going to surprise her and show up at her home with it that evening. Meanwhile, Kate is on a terrible arranged date. She's just about to take her leave when the man follows her home and aggressively forces her inside her cottage.

Pairing: Aged-up, post-Azkaban Sebastian Sallow x female OC (Kate Mayflower)

Trigger warnings: Heavy violence, attempted date rape/sexual assault

The full chapter is available below the cut; it can also be found on AO3 (link is posted below). Any kind of constructive feedback would be greatly appreciated. A comment, like, or Kudos would make my day!

Chapter 17: You're Safe With Me

Clyde throws Kate into her living room and slams the door shut, locking it. 

She falls to the hardwood floor, grimacing as she lands hard and her dress tears once again at the hem. She knows she doesn’t have much time or opportunity to escape, so she scrambles to crawl away quickly, but he’s completely focused on her. He grabs her wrists, hard enough to bruise, pulling her into a standing position.

“Come on, it’s just us now,” Clyde leers with a sick grin. “I know what girls like you are really like. You play coy and innocent, but deep down, you want this.”

He grabs her face, pushing his lips against hers, as he backs her into the empty wall adjacent to the kitchen. Kate kicks him in the shin, which buys her a moment when he cries out in pain, but it’s not enough to get away from him.

“Oh, so you want it rough?” he asks in a sinister tone. 

“No!” Kate shouts as loud as she can. “Stop! Stop it!”

Her wrists and back are against the wall; there is nowhere for her to go. Clyde continues to assault her mouth with his foul lips, shoving his tongue into her mouth. Kate grimaces, wrenching her face away and starting to tear up.

“Clyde! Stop! Stop it!” she cries.

He doesn’t stop. He kisses her again, lifting up her arms against the wall so he can hold her wrists with just one hand above her. He’s too strong.

“Please! Don’t do this! Please!” Kate yells.

Clyde kisses her again, then moves his free hand to her hip, gripping it tightly. Then, his hand slowly moves to her torso, where it settles over and gropes a breast. Kate raises her knee again to try to kick him in the balls, but her attempt is in vain.

“Fucking stand still,” Clyde commands her, and she struggles even more against him. “We can’t have any fun if your clothes are on.”

Clyde uses his foot to raise the hem of her tattered dress, then uses his free hand to lift it up further until he can see her undergarments. He slips his hand underneath the side of her panties and pulls them down until they fall on their own to the floor. 

Once again, she calls out for help. Even though it’s clear that no one is near her cottage, she has to try.

Next, the sheer sleeves of her dress get pushed down, tearing instantly. Clyde then rips the pale gold and green, embroidered bodice down the middle. He lets her wrists go so that he can go a step further and destroy her corset. She screams non-stop as he cages her body in. She beats her fists against his chest, but he hardly reacts to the petite woman using her full physical strength to stop him. Kate tries to scratch him, but nothing seems to work at all. 

“Just settle down and enjoy it,” Clyde orders through gritted teeth.

His hands settle over her breasts, with only her corset as the barrier. He dips his fingers underneath, gripping each side of the lingerie. He begins to tear it in half, but her corset was built to be durable, so it’s no easy task. He manages to rip it enough that one of her breasts falls out, exposed. 

“No! No!!!” Kate shouts. “Stop it!!! Stop it!!!” 

“Merlin, you really do have huge tits,” he marvels. “I thought they’d be a trick of the corset.”

Clyde’s lips close around her nipple. Kate is reduced to sobbing, her tears flowing freely. She attempts weakly to push him away and continues to scream at the top of her lungs. It’s all she can do.

When Sebastian apparates onto the path in front of Kate’s cottage, the sun is setting in the horizon. As he slowly walks to the gate, he silently wonders if surprising her is a good idea. Glancing at the glass container of cinnamon, now with a yellow ribbon tied around it like a proper gift, he resolves to continue on. 

He opens the gate with a creak. Rather than letting it shut loudly behind him, he holds onto it and closes it softly until it clicks. He takes a deep breath and grins as he approaches Kate’s cottage via the gravel pathway. 

All of a sudden, a strange noise startles Sebastian. His ears pick up one of the loudest, most gut-wrenching screams he has ever heard, coming straight from the cottage. It’s Kate. His eyes widen. He immediately takes out his wand and bolts for the front door. The container of cinnamon falls to the ground, the glass shattering upon impact. 

Sebastian bangs on the door. “Kate?! Kate, is everything alright in there?!”

He continues to hear her crying out, this time yelling for help. He doesn’t wait for a reply; he tries the door handle - it’s locked. Through the stained glass window, he can make out two forms moving close to each other. 

“KATE?!” Sebastian shouts, continuing to bang on the door. “What is going on?! Kate?!”

As he uses his wand to cast Alohomora, he can hear Kate screaming, “S-Sebastian?! Sebastian! Sebastian!!! Help me!”

He flings open the door so hard that it slams into the wall; several pieces of the stained glass break and fall to the floor. Without a second thought, he rushes into the room. 

Sebastian has seen many terrible things in his life - horrific injuries, murder, torture, and more - but nothing shocks him more than the scene in front of him. 

Kate is clearly being held captive against her will. Her face is stained with tears, her cheek decorated with a red handprint. Her dress and even her corset are tattered and torn, her breasts fully exposed. The strange man pinning her against the wall turns his head at the noise, looking confused and annoyed.

“Sebastian!!!” she chokes out, breathless. “Seb!”

Sebastian’s surprise quickly turns into fury. “INCARCEROUS!!!” he shouts, holding his wand towards the man, who clearly was not expecting any kind of intrusion. Even louder, his voice booms, “INCARCEROUS MAXIMA!”

The man is magically tied up so tight to the point that he cries out in pain. When ropes coil around his feet, binding them together, he loses his balance and falls over, landing hard on the floor. Sebastian sees the stranger try to grab his wands - he has two in his pocket. However, Sebastian quickly reacts, yelling, “Expelliarmus! Accio wands!!!”

The two wands fly into his hand. One is clearly Kate’s.

“Kate!!!” he screams, darting to her as her knees buckle. She sinks to the floor, bawling. “Kate, are you okay?!” 

Sebastian pulls his cloak from his shoulders, using it to cover her top half. He is breathing heavily. Kate’s tears fall as she audibly sobs, practically wheezing.

Turning towards the predator, Sebastian raises his wand. “Who the hell are you?! What did you do to her?!” he demands.

The man looks at Sebastian in complete defiance. “She wanted it! She did. Little slut.”

“The fuck she did. I’ll be back for you soon,” Sebastian replies angrily. 

Crouching down to Kate’s level, he looks into her watery eyes. He speaks quietly and calmly. “Kate, you’re safe now. I’m here. I’m going to take you to the bedroom. You’ll need to wait for me for a bit there. I’ll make sure he doesn’t get to you tonight or ever again.” He speaks louder, making sure the stranger hears. “This pervert needs to be taught a lesson.”

Sebastian scoops Kate up in his arms, carrying her bridal-style to the bedroom as she weeps. He kisses her wet cheek softly as he lays her down gently on her bed. 

Kate speaks, almost inaudibly, her voice rough from screaming. “Parkinson. His name is Clyde Parkinson.”

He nods in response. “I’ll be back soon, my love,” he whispers. “You’re safe. He won’t touch you ever again. I promise.”

Sebastian walks backwards out of the room, closing the door quietly and casting a protective ward. Then, his face completely changes as he marches into the living room. His eyes fill with rage as he sees that somehow, the stranger has gotten back on his feet to a standing position, though he can’t do much more than that.

Veering into the kitchen, Sebastian picks up a chair from the table. Without any warning, he hits Clyde over the head with it, knocking him back down to the floor with a loud “crack.” The moment Clyde’s body slams on the floor, Sebastian sits on top of him, pinning him down, as Clyde struggles and protests under Sebastian’s adrenaline-fueled strength.

“Who are you? What will you do with me?!” Clyde fearfully asks.

“I’m with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. That’s all you need to know,” Sebastian growls, rolling up his sleeves. “And tonight I’m going to teach you a lesson about respecting women.”

Clyde sneers. “I told you already! That little whore wanted it. She probably still does.” He laughs. “The harlot would probably take two cocks tonight if you want to use her, too. Come on, now - we can just enjoy ourselves and have a fun night, yeah?” 

Sebastian’s eyes instantly fill with hatred and he spits towards Clyde. “You fucking arsehole. She’s the best person I know. How could you do that to her?!” He knows he won’t get an answer. “You have to be the most pathetic excuse for a man I have ever seen,” he continues in pure disgust. “You’re a threat to society.”

The wand in Sebastian’s hand begins to glow a deep red, crackling with energy. Clyde’s eyes grow wide upon seeing it pointed towards him, knowing exactly what that color and sound mean.

“Wait! Please! I have money. Do you want money? My family is rich. I can pay you enough to forget this ever happened!” Clyde offers, panicking. “Please!”

“Prepare for the worst pain you have ever felt,” Sebastian growls, completely ignoring his pleas.

Clyde reflexively shuts his eyes tightly, his face contorted with fear.

“Cru-” Sebastian begins, then suddenly stops himself.

Taking a deep breath, he reminds himself of what he had told Kate just a couple days prior - what he had promised her was true. It was that he doesn’t use any dark magic other than for his work as a double-agent. No matter the circumstance, Kate would never forgive him if he uses an unforgivable curse right here in her home.

But damn, he wants to use it more than he ever has before. 

Sebastian frowns, his body trembling as he debates what to do. Then, he stops and lowers his wand. 

Clyde opens an eye, wondering what is going on. Seeing that Sebastian had hesitated, he laughs. “Fucking coward.”

Not a single second after Clyde spoke, Sebastian’s fist collides with his nose, which immediately begins to bleed profusely. Sebastian looks at Clyde as though he wanted to kill him. 

“Coward?” Sebastian spits out. “I’m many things, but a coward isn’t one of them. You may think you are lucky that I chose not to cast Crucio on you, but there are plenty of other things I will do to make you pay.”

With both hands balled into tight fists, Sebastian relentlessly lands blows, punch after punch to Clyde’s cheeks, nose, and chin until he is completely battered and covered in crimson, moaning in pain. 

With bloody knuckles and his entire body shaking with adrenaline, Sebastian’s fist smashes into Clyde’s face one more time, and that is all it takes for him to pass out. Even then, Sebastian struggles to stop hitting him. His hands itch to do more. Considering his next potential moves, Sebastian easily levitates Clyde’s body, taking him outside into the dark of night. He walks a good ten or so minutes, stopping just a little ways into the Forbidden Forest, high atop a cliff. 

Allowing Clyde’s body to roughly fall onto the stone, Sebastian uses his wand to cast Aguamenti, spraying water into the predator’s face. Clyde sputters and immediately whimpers in pain, barely able to open his newly blackened eyes.

“I want you to see this, you sick bastard. Look. Look at what I��m about to do,” Sebastian says angrily. “I’m not going to make your recovery or getting back to wherever you came from easy.”

Sebastian waves Clyde’s wand in front of his face. Then, he holds onto both ends and breaks the wand in half over his knee. Clyde seems to cry out, but Sebastian can’t be sure because Clyde can’t seem to make intelligible sounds or words. He throws one half of the wandover the cliff on the eastern side and the other on the northern side.

“Good luck recovering that,” Sebastian mutters, then sighs as Clyde falls unconscious once again.

Repeating his cast of Aguamenti, Clyde wakes up once more. Sebastian grabs him by the hair as he groans in pain. “So, are you going to tell anyone about what happened here tonight?” 

Clyde shakes his head, blubbering. He’s terrified of Sebastian.

“It would be quite embarrassing to tell anyone that you got the shit kicked out of you because you tried to rape an innocent woman,” Sebastian informs him, then turns more menacing. “I think… I think you went out drinking, and someone beat you up while you were pissed. Isn’t that right?” 

Clyde nods frantically, frightened.

“So, are you going to come around Kate Mayflower again?” Sebastian demanded.

“No,” Clyde manages to say somehow.

“Are you going to do this to other women? Tell me now,” Sebastian commands.

Clyde shakes his head, his broken lips quivering. “No!”

Sebastian narrows his eyes, tightening his grip on Clyde’s hair, pointing his wand in his face. “That’s not very convincing. You can do better than that. Let’s try again. Clyde Parkinson, are you ever going to do that to a woman again?” 

“No!” Clyde musters, crying out in pain. “I swear I won’t! Please! Don’t hurt me any more!”

“Good,” Sebastian replies. “Now, one more thing.” He pauses. “I am going to make it quite difficult for you to perform again.”

Without any further warning, Sebastian stomps his foot on Clyde’s groin with all of his weight put into it; then, he kicks him right in the balls. He observes, satisfied and smiling, as Clyde screams and writhes in pain. He rolls around, moaning.

“You’ll be lucky if that thing ever works again after this,” Sebastian murmured. Once more for good measure, he kicks Clyde in the groin. 

Finally, Sebastian crouches down to Clyde’s level. He whispers to the sobbing man with a threatening tone, “If I ever find out that you even look at a woman with ill intent after this, I will come for you again. I promise you that.”

He didn’t feel guilty at all as he took a few steps backward. Watching Clyde for a moment with no emotion on his face, Sebastian finally left via apparition, landing in front of Kate’s cottage once more. The scent of cinnamon hung in the air.

It is so tempting to go straight to Kate’s bedroom.

Wisely, though, Sebastian steps into the bathroom to survey his appearance first. He didn’t want to scare Kate, and he certainly would have if he didn’t clean up first.

He stares at his disheveled appearance in the mirror. Sebastian’s hair is a mess, loose strands falling into his sweaty forehead. Clyde’s blood is splattered across Sebastian’s face and clothing. As he runs the water to wash his face, his hands begin to sting sharply. He hisses at the pain, gritting his teeth to bear it. Now that the adrenaline is wearing off, he finally realizes that his knuckles are bleeding, broken, and bruised. He cleans himself up as much as he possibly can.

When he has composed himself, taking some deep, calming breaths, Sebastian stands in front of Kate’s bedroom door and gently knocks to give her some notice. She doesn’t need any more surprises tonight. He turns the handle and enters slowly.

Kate is still whimpering softly, laying on her bed. Her face is stained with tears, her hair an absolute mess. Sebastian’s cloak still covers her. It is as though she hasn’t moved at all since he left her there. It breaks Sebastian’s heart to see her weeping.

“Kate…” he begins, speaking quietly and kneeling next to the bed. “Don’t worry… Clyde will never come near you again. I promise.” 

Sebastian stands up and drags a chair next to the bed so he could be close to her. He soothingly strokes her long, blonde hair. “It’s alright now, Kate. I’m here. You’re safe. I promise you’re safe, sweetheart. I’ll protect you.”

Kate looks at him through watery eyes. “S-Sebastian… t-thank you…” A tear escapes an eye, trickling down her cheek. “If you hadn’t shown up… he would have… he would have…” she trails off, her voice raspy. “I- I don’t know how to thank you…”

“Shhh,” he whispers, brushing a loose strand of hair away from her face. “There’s no need to thank me, sunshine. I’m just so glad that I was here and that you are okay.” He caresses her cheek tenderly. His voice sounding sweet, he takes her hand and murmurs reassuringly, “You know that I will never let anything happen to you ever again, right? I love you. I love you, Kate. I will protect you from harm. You’re safe with me, my love.”

Kate nods, then glances down at Sebastian’s hand holding hers. Noticing his wounded knuckles, her mind reels with the idea that he must have attacked Clyde after coming to her rescue. She lifts his hand, kissing all of his knuckles one by one. 

“I’m sorry that this happened to you, too,” Kate whispers. “I’m so sorry, Sebastian.”

Sebastian is taken aback by her gesture. Then, she takes his other hand, gently pressing her lips to each knuckle, one at a time. He is speechless for several moments, looking surprised.

“You know, you are the only one who has ever done that for me…” he whispers, blushing. Then, he looks away for a moment as he tears up, the entire weight of the evening crashing down upon him. It’s his duty to stay strong, but it’s tough - impossible, really - to remain stoic when the woman he loves so desperately has been harmed. He kisses her hand in return, a tear falling from his eye.

Kate’s eyes are still wet, too. “Please…” she hesitates for a moment. “Please let me be the only one to ever do that for you,” she whispers back. “I… I’m so thankful for you, Sebastian. So thankful.”

Sebastian stares at her in disbelief and wonder. What exactly is she saying? Does she mean what he thinks she means? 

“I would do anything for you, Kate,” Sebastian murmurs gently, blushing harder still. He decides to be completely open about how he feels. “You… you are my other half. We are meant to be together. I love you, Kate. I love you. I love you more than you could possibly imagine, sweetheart.”

Kate gazes into his eyes, her expression one of adoration. She says nothing but kisses his hand again, her lips lingering. 

A few minutes later, she tries to fight back more tears when she requests a favor. “Sebastian… I’m so sorry to ask, but… can you help me get out of these clothes and into a nightgown? I’m so sorry. I just… I have to get out of these clothes. They’re ruined. I don’t know if I can even stand on my own right now…” It’s clear that she doesn’t mean anything suggestive by asking. 

“Of course. Of course, Kate,” he replies quickly. “Where do you keep your pyjamas?”

She points him in the right direction, and he goes to a cabinet, opens a drawer, and pulls out a soft, white, long nightgown decorated with a pink bow and some ruffles. 

Sebastian gently lifts his cloak off of her body. The state of Kate’s clothing clearly reveals what Clyde had done to her. What must have been a beautiful, silken evening gown was now tattered and damaged beyond repair. Kate holds her arms over her exposed chest, her cheeks burning red. 

Eventually, Sebastian helps her to stand up. Her legs are like jelly. Her entire body shakes. Sebastian lowers her ripped sleeves and the bodice of her dress. He works quickly to untie the bow at the back of her dress and then removes it entirely. He sits her back down on the bed, then removes her stockings and shoes. He is surprised but doesn’t say a word as he notices her panties are missing. When he pulls her up to stand again, Kate is left in nothing but her destroyed corset. With gentle touches only, Sebastian loosens the strings of the restrictive contraption until it is comfortable enough to take off. She raises her arms so he can pull it up and away from her.

Kate looks away, embarrassed, as Sebastian can clearly see her entire body on display, but he does nothing but treat her with care and concern. He suddenly notices, as he raises the corset over her hands, that her wrists are bruised badly, marked by the outlines of Clyde’s hands in a vice grip. The marks are an angry red, starting to turn purple. 

“Oh, Kate…” Sebastian murmurs, carefully kissing her wrists as she watches him intently. “I hate that this happened to you…”

He gestures for her to raise her arms again; he slips the nightgown over her body. Pulling the covers back, he tucks her into bed, making sure she is completely comfortable. He takes off his vest and tie so that he himself can be a little more comfortable, now wearing just his collared shirt, suspenders, and trousers. When he sits back down in the chair and releases a couple of the top buttons to loosen his collar, Kate frowns.

“Sebastian… no. Please, I need you. Please… I want you to hold me,” she asks softly, with desperation in her voice. 

Sebastian doesn’t need to be asked more than once. He immediately climbs into the bed next to Kate, holding her tightly. 

“I’m here, Kate. It’s alright. You are safe,” he whispers, his tone comforting and reassuring. “I’m here. I’m here for you.”

Kate breathes slowly and deeply, relishing in his soothing touch as he caresses her arm. “Please don’t leave me. Please… please don’t leave me, Sebastian.”

Sebastian looks at Kate, his eyes filled with both sadness and love. He repositions them, laying her head on his chest, his arm holding her tight. “I’m not letting you go. I’m not leaving you here. Not tonight, nor any other night,” he whispered. “Don’t worry, my love. I’m here to stay.”

Kate’s eyes search Sebastian’s after he kisses her forehead. She snuggles into his strong arms. He throws the covers over both of them. He holds her close, reassuring her over and over that everything will be okay, that he will take care of her. 

Sebastian’s heartbeat is soothing. Its slow and steady tempo comforts Kate. 

“Go to sleep, Kate. I will be here to keep you safe,” he softly told her. “I love you. Good night, sunshine.”

When she gives in to her exhaustion, she moves to rest her arm over Sebastian’s chest. Her leg settles over his in an attempt to be as close to him as possible. Her body craves his warmth and comfort and protection, even unconsciously. 

Sebastian looks down at the petite girl curled around him. Her flowing hair is all spread out behind her, over his arm and on the bed. His heart feels as though it might explode as he listens to her steady breathing. Despite how awful - how truly awful - the evening had been, he’s finally here with Kate, spending the night caring for her. It does not matter how badly his hands and body ache - Sebastian feels as though he is in paradise now, the woman he loves clinging to him peacefully.

“You and me, Kate. We will make it. We will be together forever. I know it,” he murmurs, understanding that she is fast asleep but needing to say it out loud just the same. 

Sebastian kisses Kate’s forehead once more. He would give anything to live in this moment forever - he doesn’t want to sleep at all. Not daring to move a muscle, he stays awake as long as he can - long enough to hear Kate begin to snore softly. That night, he closes his eyes with a smile.

[primrosebow]

HEYY!!! i love your art soo much!!! Your post abt the hazbin hotel women 🩷🩷 its so GOODD!! As Vaggies #1 fan i love how you wrote for her and drew her! I love how you added little details like the night dress(id fuck her in her night dress too she looks so cute:3) but i was wondering if you could maybe do some rosie x reader nfsw🙏 PLSS she barely gets any love and your writing(and art but yoy dont have to draw her if you dont want tooo) is so good!! Anyways could i maybe be 🎀 annon? i hope you have a good day!!! Bye

Hey I'm back from trying to find out how to be a good artist

I did not figure it out 🗣📢📢📢💥💥 also we're on strike.

❣️_-->Rosie x reader

//

!Content warnings!: nsfw, rosie being rosie (she bites you fr), uhhhhhhhh the usual??? I still don't know how to do content warnings, gender neutral reader because I didn't specify anything, good luck reading my handwriting (every day it becomes less readable and becomes more like a doctor's. I am transforming. I am becoming the doctor.)

Guys if I don't buy the skulls on a string I'm going to die. I need to buy it.

//

//

One may be surprised to find that in my opinion she doesn't hold any regards to who is "topping" or not- little of that matters to her. What really matters is how close you both are- she is all about the intimacy when it comes to this. Talkative all the way through, she will be affectionate with the sweetest words she can offer you. She uh... really doesn't make much of an effort to be understood by you if you are unfamiliar with the 'slang' she tends to use- you can ask about it later, after she is done with you.

Another thing she does, something much more predictable: is that she tends to bite you. There are no intentions of hurting you when she leans into your body and digs her teeth into your skin, it goes without saying that you will of course bleed, and, afterwards she earnestly and truthfully showers you in apologies for harming you! it's just.. your taste is truly intoxicating to her- you need to understand! She has said it herself in the unfiltered delirious state you both get to: she'd most definetly eat you, you tasting so perfect the way you do- if she wouldn't miss you so much if she did. Your company brightens her days, makes every little moment worth it, she wouldn't be capable of existing in a world without you now; sometimes she wonders how she made it so far without you to begin with.

Any compliments you may give her are met with shy looks to the side and comments for you to "oh stop it- you're much too sweet..", being truly invitations to get you to do it further.

//

Stupid little edit I made of her with the creative liberties I took :-]

@bigfatbimbo as usual

Somehow despite typing with numbers between my words to shorten everything I still manage to not sound completly unhinged and like a severely brainrot infected individual

Moral of the story is: delete tiktok

[kindersurprisebacterium]

Crimson (DabiHawks/Reader)

Explicit Sexual Content MDNI

CW: Blood, Vampire Keigo and Touya, Choking, Rough Sex, Dubcon at First, Biting, Blood Kink?, Threesome

Gender Neutral AFAB Reader

The bass droned on, with a slow drum beat to follow. The vocalist chimed in with soulful and smoky vocals, the perfect bit of extra on top of a smooth song. I swayed my arms to the side, gyrating my hips to the beat. My hair, cemented in place with industrial hairspray, bobbed lightly, the strands teased into a matted mess of a bat's nest. The little alcohol in my stomach had made my movements looser, unrestrained, as if I was the only body on the dance floor, melding into the pool of sound that serenaded my ears. That was until a hand brushed by the small of my back, fingers settling onto my hips. 

“Can I buy you a drink?” A man asked. I opened my eyes, meeting pools of cerulean and silver as my eyes flicked from his to his facial piercings. 

“I don’t really want to drink. I want to dance.” I spoke, leaning in to speak next to his ear. He nodded, eyes looking behind me as he pulled me into his arms. I followed his gaze to a blonde-haired man at the edge of the dance floor. The blonde noticed my stare, lips curling up into a smirk. His sharp canines glistened against the lighting. I couldn’t help but notice the length of his teeth, twice that of the average person. The pierced man grabbed my chin, turning my face back to him. 

“Come on. Let’s dance.” He spoke quickly, hands grabbing my waist tight and pulling me away from the crowd. I synced my steps with his, our heels clacking against the ground to the beat of the music, now twisted into an industrial song with rough, grating synths. He pulled my hips flush to him, swaying to the beat. Through his jeans, I felt the unmistakable tension of a stiff cock. A soft sound escaped from my lips. I threw my arms over the back of his neck, pushing my chest into his. 

“That’s it, little one.” He said in a voice as rough as gravel. His tongue licked a strip up the side of my neck, teeth pressing against my skin. “You mind if someone joins us?” He asked. 

“That blonde guy?” I asked. He nodded. 

“Keigo. He’s my boyfriend.”  

A second pair of hands began to touch me, starting at my hips, and running up my stomach to my chest. 

“You’re unicorn hunting, aren’t you.” I huffed, looking away. Rough fingers brought my face back to the man in front of me. 

“Baby, you’ve got free will. If you want just one of us, that’s fine. If you want both of us? Even better. Either way, we’ll make it worth your while.” The black-haired man spoke. Lips began trailing over my neck. I arched my back into Keigo's touch, his fingers began pinching at my nipples through my shirt. The pierced man’s hands began to skim between my legs, putting pressure on my clothed cunt. 

“Fuck.” I whimpered. “Guess it’s open season then.” The man winked at his boyfriend. A sharp piercing sensation pricked the skin of my neck. My body jolted in shock but then began to melt, limbs going lame against the two men. 

“Mmh, what was that?” I asked, feeling a haze began to cloud my thoughts. Warmth trickled down my neck, then saliva began to coat my skin. The man behind me moaned, fingers digging into my skin harder. 

“We’ve just got a little surprise.” The man smirked, revealing long canines. I reached out, pushing his upper lip up, revealing fangs. “Guess you spoiled it.” He chuckled, picking me up off the ground. The two men made their way towards the back exit, taking me along with them. 

“Are you going to kill me?” I asked as we stepped outside into the frigid September air. The silent street made my ears ring. My heartbeat began to pound in my head. 

“Fuck no, baby. We just want to have a little fun.” He grinned, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Vampire saliva has anticoagulants, painkillers, and a little bit of an aphrodisiac.” He continued. “Most you’ll get is a little bruised, bitten, and woozy.”

“Vampire?” I asked. 

“Baby, that whole club was full of ‘em. I’m surprised nobody else pounced on that cute ass of yours.” A soft click echoed through my brain. I looked towards the blonde, who was standing next to a hearse. I began squirming, my coordination coming back to me, along with an impending sense of doom. 

“Hey, hey, we just drive it for fun.” The man said, gripping me tighter. “You out, or you in?” He asked, fingers skimming between my thighs again. A sense of warmth coursed through my blood, settling into my core. My breathing grew faster, heart pumped hard in my chest. I nodded. The door to the backseat opened. The blonde stepped aside, making room for his boyfriend to lay me down in the back seat. Instead of a cold, medical-feeling trunk, a thin mattress with silk sheets adorned the trunk. The man laid me down on the mattress. The cool silk pressed against my heated skin was enough to drive me into a state of desperation. The man crawled in alongside me, the door closing behind him. 

“You feelin’ good, baby?” He asked, kneeling between my legs. I nodded. “Told you so, see? It wasn’t just a ploy.” His fingers slipped under the waist of my shorts, tugging them from my hips along with my underwear. The car engine roared to life, my body shifting as the car pulled onto the road.

“You want more? Wanna feel even better?” He asked, tongue licking across my inner thigh. 

“Please,” I whimpered. He sunk his teeth into my femoral artery. The initial pain was soon dulled, instead replaced with a warm, fuzzy feeling that wrapped around my hips. He withdrew his teeth. The gushing of blood soon retreated into a trickle, and then it stopped. His tongue licked up the mess of crimson on my thigh. His pale cheeks were now stained a shade of red. He groaned, hips grinding against the mattress. Wetness began to gather in my core, pooling onto the silk below me. 

“Please touch me, please.” I moaned, clenching around nothing. His thumb pressed against my clit, circling around the bud as he drank up the remaining blood. His bloodied face moved to my cunt, tongue replacing his thumb. I cried out, throwing my legs over his shoulders. I rocked my hips against his face as he flicked his tongue over my clit. 

“Mm! Fuck! Fuck! Fuuuuuck!” I moaned, fingers gripping onto his onyx locks. 

“The name’s Dabi,” He spoke against my thigh, “moan it for me, slut.” His tongue went back to my clit, fingers now slipping past my entrance. 

“Dabi!” I cried “More!” He thrust his fingers faster, curling up against my G spot. His lips enclosed around my clit, sucking roughly on the sensitive skin. I choked out a moan, eyes rolling to the back of my skull. Then the pleasure stopped. Sending my body rolling back into consciousness. I looked out the window. The car was stopped inside a dim garage. The back door opened, and an inked hand reached out for me. I laced my fingers with Dabi’s and followed him into the house, cunt still bare and weeping. 

I followed him into the room. Keigo wrapped his arms around my waist, kissing my neck and gently biting with his incisors. He kicked the door closed. I watched as Dabi began to strip his clothes off, revealing a sheet of ink covering his skin. Patterns that swirled around his limbs, and more silver barbells adorning his cock. Keigo ripped my shirt from my body, leaving me bare in front of the two men. With two hands planted firmly on my back, he pushed me forward onto the bed. His body was already half bare by the time I turned onto my back. I was quickly flipped back onto my stomach. Dabi dragged my body towards the pillows. Nails digging into my thighs, hard enough to leave angry red crescents well into the next day. 

He moved me as if I was weightless. Pulling my thighs over his face, arms hooking over the tops of my thighs, keeping me still on his face as his tongue dove back into my cunt. I watched as Keigo pulled a metallic plug from his ass, settling over Dabi’s hips, taking his stiff cock in his hand and opening a condom wrapper. Dabi twitched under me as Keigo rolled the latex over his length. The blonde moved to sit in front of Dabi’s cock, still gripping onto the base. I watched as his face contorted as he sunk down onto Dabi’s cock. A muffled moan pulled me from my thoughts, the vibrations shaking me to my core, eyes squeezing shut as I rocked my hips against his face. 

“Kiss me,” Keigo said, voice laced with pleasure. I leaned forward, lips meeting his. He moaned against my lips, body jerking as he rode dabis cock. Sharp cuspids sunk into my bottom lip, drawing blood with it. The blonde's tongue invaded my mouth, diving after every bit of tangy, metallic blood. Heat invaded my body again. The pleasure on my clit intensified. My eyes rolled to the back of my head, sparking pain in my sockets. A vivid, pulsing sensation swarmed in my head. My body tensed and relaxed erratically as I came on Dabi's tongue. I attempted to move but found myself cemented in position, strong arms holding me still. The overstimulation drove me deeper into my fucked out state. My jaw went slack, drool pooling from my tongue, moans pouring from my throat as I encroached upon my second orgasm. Vibrations shook my cunt, the layer that broke me. My toes curled, thighs shaking violently, and my back arching. 

“Fuck! Too much!” I cried, tears streaming down my face. My body was released. I quickly scrambled to move from his face, back hitting sheets, and head dangling off the end of the bed. 

“Hang on…that gives me an idea,” Keigo spoke, his soft voice pulling me from my post-orgasm haze. “Fuck their cunt, I’m gonna take advantage of that pretty throat.” He said, moving off of Dabi’s hips with a small groan. The blonde appeared standing over me. 

“Were you crying, baby? Your eyeliner’s all fucked up.” His thumb brushed over my lips, parting them just enough to dip inside my mouth.

“Bite me again,” I spoke, sucking the tip of his thumb. He grunted, tongue darting out to lick his lips. 

“Feels nice?” He asked, smirking. I nodded, watching as he got down on his knees, hand pushing my head to the side. I moaned as his teeth sunk into me again. Heat flooded my limbs. His tongue messily ran across my marred neck, licking up every drop I spilled. 

He stood up again, face a horrid red color. He parted my lips with his thumb, opening my jaw wide, and lining his cock up with my awaiting mouth. The head of Dabi’s cock pushed past my entrance, drawing a muffled moan from me. The two men began to thrust in sync. Dabis thrusts rocked my body forwards, pushing Keigos cock further down my throat. Drool began to coat my face, running up past my eyes and off of my forehead. Keigos thrusts were shallow at first, but as he bathed in the pleasure, he got rougher, hands holding my head still as he fucked his cock deeper down my throat until my nose met the blonde hairs at the base of his cock. 

“Fuck you feel good, use your tongue, baby” Keigo grunted. Dabi's Voice was mangled into an incomprehensible mess of jumbled grunts and groans. The only thing I focused on was the burning pleasure in my stomach, and the cock stretching my throat open. 

I swirled my tongue around his shaft, earning a primal groan from him. He put a leg up on the mattress, using the leverage to fuck my throat harder, hand gripping tight around my bulging throat. A thumb on my clit caused my hips to spasm, bucking hard into his cock, against his thrusts. Dabi’s hands pushed against the backs of my thighs, folding my body nearly in half. He leaned over me, thrusting hard into my cunt, eyes staring at my throat. 

“Such a pretty fleshlight, aren’t they,” Dabi said, voice shaky from his intense thrusts. Keigo's thumb pressed into the base of my throat, right into the tip of his cock. I gagged, pushing at his thighs. He pulled out, trails of spit following his cock. The pressure of Keigos cock was soon replaced with a hand, Dabi’s hand, squeezing tightly around my throat as he fucked me into the mattress. His hips stopped, cerulean eyes staring me down as he hovered above me. 

“You want this cock?” He asked. 

“P-please! N-need it!” I cried.

“Then ride me.” 

And with that he pulled out, laying back against the pillows, arms crossed behind his head as he watched my sloppy body crawl towards him. I straddled his hips, fingers wrapping around the base of his cock. The head of his cock slipped past my entrance with ease. I sunk down onto the rest of my legs, halting my movements as I bottomed out. Dabi sat up, mouth attacking my chest, leaving dark, bleeding teeth marks as he moved from nipple to nipple, and back again. His tongue ran across my body, soothing the bites. His cheeks smeared the mess of blood across my skin, turning my body into a crime scene of sorts. Skin now stained a dark red color, sticky and flaky with new and old blood. I began to move my hips, but a pair of hands stopped me. Wet fingers circled around my ass before dipping in, pushing past the rings of muscle. I wrapped my arms tight around Dabi, harsh bites turned into soothing kisses as he gently rocked his hips up into me.

“Doin' so good, baby. So good for us.” Dabi cooed. “You feelin' good?” He asked as his lips reached my neck. I nodded. “Words, little one.” He spoke, grabbing my chin tightly. 

“Yeah,” I spoke between whimpers. Keigo began to scissor his fingers, stretching me out. The discomfort soon turned to pleasure as the aphrodisiacs flooded my system. 

“Fuck me, Keigo,” I whined, glancing behind me at the blonde. His cock began to slowly push inside me, the stretch dulled by the overwhelming lust rippling through me. I leaned forwards, chest pressed to Dabi as the head of Keigos cock pushed inside of me. My thoughts swirled into a muddled mess as he quickly sunk the rest of his shaft inside me. My mouth hung open in a silent scream, tears pooling in my eyes as the feeling of being stuffed broke me. The two began moving, cocks rearranging my inside at a steady but rough tempo. I was silent, too deep in bliss to make a sound. Drool and spit pooled onto Dabi’s collarbone. The once carefully concocted makeup I’d applied to my skin was now running off my skin, being washed away with the stream of fluid seeping from me. My nails dug into Dabi’s arms, hard enough to splinter the keratin, taking with it the neat black nail polish. 

“You like being stuffed, baby?” Keigo spoke with a sadistic twist. “Fuckin both your holes? Or are you too drunk off our spit to speak?” He growled, hips rutting faster. 

“Such a good little fleshlight. Yeah? Told you we’d make you feel fuckin’ good.” Dabi spoke, voice laced with pleasure. “Atta’ slut, baby. So good taking our fuckin’ cocks”

Sharp teeth dug into my skin once again. Keigo leaned down, reopening the coagulated wound from earlier. A flood of warmth trickled down my shoulder and chest, soon to be lapped up by the blonde. 

“‘M gonna cum!” Keigo cried out, hips stuttering. The blonde quickly pulled out, giving Dabi better leverage to fuck me. His knees quickly bent, heels digging into the mattress as his hips pounded up into me. My teeth sunk into his collarbone, bite muffling the crescendo of moans clawing their way up from my bruised chest. 

“Fuck!” He cried out, hips stilling as he came inside of me. Iron pricked my taste buds as blood filled my mouth. His blood. My bite had grown hard enough to draw blood. “Fuck! Wait!” He yelled, pressing down on my throat and pushing me away. 

“What?!” Keigo quickly appeared at my side. His golden eyes widened as he noticed the fresh crimson staining my smeared lips. “Fuck!” His fingers gripped my chin. I swallowed. Eyeing both boys and cocking an eyebrow. 

“What,” I asked as I slowly regained my composure.

“You fucking turned yourself,” Dabi said with pursed lips. 

“Guess we’re keeping them,” Keigo smirked, recoiling when he received a slap on the arm from Dabi. “C’mon. You wanna?” He asked, leaning in to kiss my lips. I fell forward into his touch, his arms wrapped around my bare body and pulled me down onto the sheets. The brunette curled up behind me, arm thrown over Keigo and me.