#you shouldn't say you don't have time for something you should say it isn't a priority

[bi-writes]

what you want you cannot find. so you let someone else find it for you. (18+, dark!simon x curvy!fem!reader, arranged marriage)

you don't really know what you were thinking when you answered the ad. it is many things, maybe, why you chose to apply. why you were grateful to be chosen.

the loneliness, it aches. you cannot find yourself in anyone else, you cannot find the thing that should move you and hold you. you cannot find what it is that should ignite what is asleep, the thing nestled between your ribs that feels like it beats to a rhythm that you cannot hear.

the bitterness, too. there is something sour that you taste. there is acid under your tongue, something rotten between your teeth, and you wish for anything that you would stop tasting it because it reminds you of how alone you are, how alone you'll remain, the inevitable thing that you wish you weren't but that you unfortunately are.

it is the thing you cannot die for because there isn't anything to die for. you live, and you breathe, and you exist, but there isn't anything there. this is nothing that makes you want to gnaw on your own flesh, there is no life you would take in sake of another, there is no purpose to your existence except the hope that perhaps there is still time to have what you want more than anything.

but you don't know what you want. you don't know because everything that you thought you wanted, you do not want any longer. you never feel anything with other men. they are beneath you. they maim what they shouldn't. they complain about things that they can fix. they stare at a problem head-on, with the solution at their back, and they chase their tails. they do not know their right from their left. you hate them. but you want it. you want something. you want one of them, but you don't know which, so maybe if you don't choose, you will find what it is that you don't know you're looking for.

you're alone in the room. they gave you a bouquet of white roses. you hold them nervously between clammy palms. you wear a silk white dress that skims the floor, fabric falling soft over the curve of your waist and gentle along the swell of your cleavage. your hair is loose, and there is a short veil over your head, covering your face.

you stare at your handler. he's dressed in his military fatigues, tactical vest still strapped with the Union Jack across his chest. he has introduced himself as captain john price, and he is the one who arranged for your arrival. he is the one who told you to wear white, and he is the one who gave you the roses.

captain john price is rugged. captain john price is kind. and captain john price is not what you want. you are grateful that you are not yet disappointed with your match.

the door opens behind you. you straighten your posture that extra inch when you hear his heavy gait. there is a pause as the door shuts behind him, and you see his captain nod to a figure that you cannot see. his boots hit the floor low, and you swallow when the sunlight that comes through the window is blocked entirely by the size of him as he stands at your side.

the vows are short. you say your i do first, soft voice that hits his ears in a way that makes him nearly purr. when it is his turn to say i do, your eyes sparkle. he speaks in such a low voice, a Manchester accent that makes your toes curl in the white kitten heels that you wear. a drawl that you can feel in your chest, an accent that ticks a corner of your brain you did not know was there.

"you may kiss your bride."

you turn away from the captain. you tilt your head to look up at him, and you let out a soft breath when you realize the sheer breadth of this man.

he is barely a man. he must be something else. he is dressed all in black, and he wears all of his gear. his tactical vest is stocked well, magazines tucked into their pockets, a grenade dangling from one strap, a handgun tucked into its holster on his chest and around his thick thigh. his belt is heavy with more, knives in sheathes, devices in their places. even without all of the weight, you know the size of him won't shrink.

you cannot see his face. he covers it with a mask, one that resembles the front face of a skull. it is dirty. you aren't certain if it is blood or soot or dirt. maybe it is all of that and more. you cannot see his eyes through the veil either, but they are dark, and they are intense.

you keep your eyes fixed on his as he lifts your veil. the delicate fabric settles over your head, and you see him without obstruction.

there he is.

it is like seeing a man for the first time. it is like being in the presence of the dream you've always had and could never remember.

he tilts his head to the side, curious. he is seeing your face for the first time, too. soft eyes. glossy lips. the curve of your mouth. the untouched skin of your cheeks, the unmarred flesh that you wear. he follows the line of your throat to the peek of your tits dressed in silk. you are a present wrapped in luxury. hand delivered goods, of the finest quality.

his bride. his wife. something he will have forever. he does not know if he has ever been able to say that about anything else. he's never had anything except for his life. nothing except for himself has ever belonged to him, but even now, not even his life is his own, it belongs to someone far away, someone in an office somewhere, who moves the chess pieces of his world around, where he cannot do anything but follow.

you stand on your toes to get closer to him. he thinks for just a second you will ask him to remove his mask, but you don't. you cant your head, and you kiss him over the mask, sticky gloss leaving a light imprint on the fabric. you settle back onto your heels, and your breath hitches when one of his gloved hands comes to settle at the dip of your waist.

"she's all mine now, eh, cap'n?"

you blink, your eyes still on his. you don't move, and you don't say anything. you wonder, if you could see his face, if he would smile.

"all yours, simon."

you let him drag you closer, shuffling on your feet until your hips press against his. your back arches gently as he uses both hands, gripping you around the middle and feeling the soft flesh underneath your silk dress. he is a rabid dog, his next meal at his fingertips. she is his, and he wants to take her home. if his captain was not standing at his back, he knows he would take you on this very floor.

she is mine. she is mine. she is mine.

he has studied your picture. he has memorized your name. he has been waiting for you. he is too awkward to leave base. he is too quiet to attract birds, birds that matter, birds that sing. he is too ravenous to be anything but permanent, he isn't capable of the mundane, of casual. it is everything or nothing at all, and at the sound of permanence, he foamed at the mouth.

at the thought of something to keep, he was blinded. when beasts lose control, they call their keeper, and he had none. this change could be good. this change would do him well. when he ignores the order of a commanding officer, he will bend to yours, because he is bound, wrapped, tied to you with something invisible that weaves between his bones.

you do not know what you were before, but you know what you are now.

you follow after him. he turns to leave, and you let him lead. your heels click as you walk, and when it is hard for you to keep up, you reach for his hand. he grunts when you do, but he doesn't push you away. you hold wilting roses in one hand, and you clutch him in the other. recruits and privates stop to salute or step out of your way, and they stare when they see a trailing angel behind their lieutenant, a pretty girl in a pretty white dress with a veil fluttering against the breeze as you try and keep up with your husband's long strides.

the door he stops in front of is plain and unmarked. he fits a key into the lock, turning it and opening it, and he invites you over a threshold that no one else has ever stepped over. you stand on the other side, holding the roses to your chest. he turns when you don't follow him inside. you get a glimpse of him as a whole, the man that he is, big and menacing and taken. you wonder if he will wear his ring under his glove or if he will put it on the chain that holds his dog tags.

"is this where you live?" you ask. you stay on the other side, looking in, a little timid as you stand there.

he nods, silent. he crosses his arms over his chest, and you admire the bulge of them, the paint of skeleton bones along the fingers of his gloves. you look him up and down before smiling a little.

"is this where i will live, too?"

he shakes his head, a no.

"can't have a thing like y'here," he murmurs. "boys'll eat y'up."

you tilt your head to the side.

"i find that hard to believe," you quip. "do people often eat what's yours, lieutenant?"

he snarls, narrowing his eyes. "no one takes wot's mine."

"then what are you so afraid of?"

"that 'f y'r 'ere, i won't get any fuckin' work done."

you break out into a big smile, pearly white teeth flashing, and he clicks his tongue at your reaction. he reaches up and lifts his mask, pushing it up until it rests over his nose. his nose is crooked from being broken so many times. his face is scarred, as if someone took a blade and carved out the skin and muscle. a deep one stretches from somewhere under the mask to his lip, where it looks as if the skin was haphazardly stitched back together. another long jagged grey streak comes over the line of his cheek down his jaw, as if someone tried to peel his face off.

he grins. it's ugly and unsettling, as if he sees prey that he knows he will catch. your own smile does not fade. his tongue darts out to wet his lips, and you want to taste him. beast, bear, killing machine, the boogeyman, a ghost that haunts, you do not know exactly what he is, but you know, immediately, that he is what you have been searching for.

you do not know him. you do not love him yet, but you will. you are sure of this. you are sure that he is missing piece. he will fill the spaces that you have always felt hollow. he will scratch a place in your head that has always itched. there is something in his eyes, you're not exactly sure what it is, but you can't wait to discover it. you can't wait to explore, to indulge, to lick the salt of his skin and know that everything he is has been waiting for something like you.

you did not choose him, but he chose you, and now you see it clearly. you see this thing, and you know the truth of what's been hiding from you all your life. the curtain has been taken down. the veil is off. the walls are invisible.

"come 'ere," he says lowly. "won't ask so nicely next time."

you drop the flowers onto the floor, crossing the doorway. you kick the door shut, hearing it click, and he comes closer, until you can feel his breath fanning your nose.

"will you love me?" you ask, wringing your hands together nervously. "do you think maybe...do you think maybe that's possible?"

he licks over his teeth, humming. he leans down, knocking your chin up, and your breath hitches when he licks up the side of your jaw, taking in a whiff of your perfume and the sweetness of his bride.

"what a stupid word," he mutters, biting at the curve of your bottom lip. "meaningless. love. bloody hell."

"w-what...what?"

"a meaningless fuckin' word for the things i would do for ya," he continues. "the things i would kill. the heads i would step on. the sorry fucks i would get rid of...just to see y'smile."

your eyes flutter. yes, yes, yes--the unconditional devotion. the terrifyingly beautiful reality of through sickness and in health, until death do us part.

"is it really that easy, simon?" you ask. his gloved hands slip over your throat, sliding low and skimming the silk of your dress before he cups both sides of your ass and squeezes, drawing you closer until you are uncomfortably pressed up against him. his gear digs into your softness, sharp edges cutting into you, but you ignore it as he begins to draw up the skirt of your dress. "is it really that easy to say you'll do all of that for me? isn't it...it's wrong, isn't it? to do those things for me?"

he laughs. humorless, condescending. as if that is the stupidest thing you could have ever said.

"'s olright, swee'eart. gonna take all those ideas outta y'r pretty lil' head."

you relax when you feel his gloved hand under the hem of your white lace panties. your eyes shut, and you reach forward and grip his vest for stability.

"christ..." he hisses. "y'r soaked..."

you are. you have been since you first laid eyes on him, on everything he is. you know why you are here, and he knows why he is here, and that is because there were two people so desperate to find one another, that they let someone else choose. the gods, fate, whatever they want to be called.

matched by design, together by choice.

you lean forward and kiss beside his lips, and you whine when his big fingers slide between your folds, soft on your clit before he fits two fingers inside of you. his gloves are warm, and you wet them easily.

"wot a good girl," he breathes. "knew y'were the right one."

"y-you did?"

"could see it in y'r eyes, dove. could see wot y'needed. could see it plain as fuckin' day. dyin' inside, just like me, aye?"

you shake your head.

"n-not anymore...not anymore..." you gasp, and he tsks as he steps backward, the weight of him heavy as he takes a seat on his perfectly made bed, bringing you with him. you fall into his lap, unafraid to because you know someone of his size can carry you easily, and he hums as you spread your thighs apart. you straddle him, pressed up against the gun holstered to his chest, and you moan softly against his scarred face as he fucks you open with three unforgiving fingers.

"not anymore," he echos, baring his teeth as he pumps his hand. the squelch of it is filthy, but it isn't enough. he wants you to soak his arm, his thighs, his bed, let the slick of you stain him from the outside in. "not anymore. not as my wife."

you scramble. you rip the veil out of your hair, untie the corset of your dress. there's a naked angel in his lap, perky tits and soft figure, giving way to the gorgeous place you keep hidden by white, wet lace. the place that is his, the place that belongs to him, a pretty pussy that will keep him satiated until he breathes no longer.

after he tears apart his enemy, he will have you. after he tastes the blood he desires to see run, he will have you. the adrenaline, the fire, the shout of every order and the sound of their cries, it won't exist anymore in this place, he knows it.

"y'll never want for anythin'," he mutters. "y'll never be lonely. always get wot y'want...wot y'need...wot y'deserve..."

you reach up and cup his cheeks gently, pressing your mouth to his as you ride his fingers eagerly. you want him, you want this, you want all of it, even if it isn't what's right. but something brought you here, right into his arms, and this is what you deserve.

he's not even human, you don't think. he must be something else. with how good he makes you feel, with the sheer precision that he rocks his fingers into you, the way he smiles, he must be made of only something synthetic, something not organic.

you feel so small underneath him. he tosses you onto the bed, your head hitting the pillow gently. you giggle, and his grin widens. he has a warm pink tongue, and it's between his teeth, and you giggle again when he moves his head from side to side, staring down at you. he's studying you. you assume he has seen photos of you, but this is his first time seeing his bride for all that she is. soft, pretty, unscathed by war. at least on the outside--but on the inside, you are not as you seem.

there's a parasite in you. something that slithers behind your eyes and settles in that corner of your brain that only he can touch. he knows that feeling well. he feels it every time he is in the field, and he feels it now, with you. he chases this tick when he works. it knocks his senses just right, makes him feel good and big, like the reaper that he really is. he can be this with a rifle in his hand, and he can be this without it, with the weight of his wife in his hands.

you smile, biting your lip, and you spread your legs for him. his eyes fall between your thighs, and he chuckles. he brings his gloved hand up to his mouth, the one that smells like you, and you watch as he slips it inside, sucking on it for a moment before he uses his teeth to take both gloves off.

he bends, still in all his military glory, and he sticks his tongue out, licking a fat stripe up the seam of your cunt, using one thumb to pull the puffy lip apart and suckle on your clit for just a moment.

you gasp, arching your back, and he stands to his full height again, laughing.

"oh, y'taste sweet," he purrs. "y'taste good. hard t'believe i'll have this cunny for m'whole fuckin' life."

"believe it, baby," you coo, and he sighs. he nods his head, reaching low, gripping himself through his cargo pants and squeezing his cock. you follow his movements, watching him pay special attention to the tip of him, running his finger over where you guess the slit is as he watches you squirm. "why are you so far away, simon? don't you want me?"

he laughs again, smiling wide, and he nods.

"course i want ya, swee'eart. who wouldn't want ya, huh? who wouldn't want this?"

you meet his eyes. the question is a sound one, but it never mattered that you were wanted, what mattered is that you never wanted. not really. not until now.

you watch him as he reaches for his zipper. he undoes it easily, unbuttoning his pants and shoving them low. they won't go very low, thanks to the holsters around his thighs, but it's enough that you watch his cock stand at attention, the red tip of him leaking down the sides, making the bulging vein on the underside of him shine.

you whine a little, and he growls happily, watching as you cup the swell of your tits and squeeze them in anticipation. perfect, perfect, perfect girl, practically a mail-order bride that checks every single fucking box.

he grips you by the thighs, yanking you to the edge of the bed. you whimper when he slides the tip through your folds, letting it catch at the entrance before smirking down at you.

"'s big," you hiccup, and he tsks, shaking his head.

"y'can take it, swee'eart," he murmurs. "y'r a riley now, luvvie. y'know what tha' means?" you shake your head, your eyes a little watery, and he smooths a hand up your sternum, gripping you around the throat gently. "gonna find out...gonna find out how well a riley takes wot they're given."

"simon--"

"'s alright, luv, we'll start nice, yeah?" he breathes. you grip onto his forearms when he feeds you his cock, slowly, and your back bows at a sharp angle as you squeeze him for everything he is. "fuckin' hell...yeah, just the tip, yeah? oh, good girl..."

good girl, yeah...i'm a good girl--

you cry out, digging your nails into him when he mutters fuck it and bottoms out. his palm flattens just under your belly button, a choked groan leaving him as he presses down, a rush of something fucking glorious running down his spine. it's a high--he's so fucking high, as if he is popping fucking pills.

"feel me here, yeah?" he drags his hips back, smoothing a hand further up your stomach until he paws one of your tits, squeezing it firmly. you nod, sliding your hands up his arms, fisting the fabric of his mask at the base of his neck. you feel him everywhere, you feel him in your chest, running down your spine, you feel him in your mouth and in your head, and it feels so good, it feels so so so so good.

"yes--yes!" you gasp. fuck, he's huge, he's putting a shadow over you. you're naked, bare underneath him, and his gear rocks with every thrust, and it's filthy because you wonder if he worked, you wonder if he didn't even change before he went to marry his perfectly-picked bride, you wonder if he got off the tarmac not even an hour after killing his target to go and take what is his.

how long ago was it that he last fired his weapon? the gun on his chest, did he use it before he saw you?

i bet he did. i bet he used it. i bet he smoked the cigarette that i smell on him, and i bet he came here, and then he married me, and now he's all mine, and he's fucking me six ways to fucking sunday--

you think you're drooling. your lips are wet, and with every smack of his hips against yours, you feel a little more trickle down the side of your face. you're moaning, gripping his neck, pulling him further down on top of you. you want him all around you, you want him inside, you want him to come every day wearing this terrifying fucking uniform and to fuck you so stupid, you forget everything except for the name he has given you.

you want to know nothing except for his name. simon. riley. simon. riley.

you want to know nothing except for what you are. his wife. his wife. his wife.

it's so hard to remember to breathe. his hands grip you tight around the hips, and he's losing momentum, hissing, letting out choked groans as he brands the shape of his cock into you. he never wants you to forget what he feels like--he never wants you to know anything except for him, for the rest of your life.

"simon--" you whine, and he smirks, reaching up to hold your face in one big hand, keeping you still as you chase the grind of his pelvis against your puffy clit. "simon--!"

"tha'sit, luvvie...yeah..." he nods, "look at me--look at me," he leans down, a big weight over you, suffocating you, "good girl, yeah..." he clicks his tongue, "cum f'me, swee'eart. cum f'y'r husband, yeah?"

you lean up, chasing after him, gripping onto the sides of his face as you kiss him hard. it is the first time you really kiss him. slotting your mouth over his, slipping your tongue into his mouth, the sting of your wedding ring cooling his warm face as you taste him for the very first time.

it is gone. the bitterness that you always taste, the acid and the sourness and everything that always is so unpleasant under your tongue, it is gone when you have him. he takes it out of your mouth completely, and you chase after this just as you chase after the harsh grind of your clit against his pelvis.

he is carrying you. you're lifting, coming over some kind of sweet, exhilarating euphoria, and you're blinded by it, by the feeling, by him. you want more, more, you want it all, and he said you could have anything you want, that you'll never need anything ever again, he said, he said, he said--!

he laughs when you come. he swallows your moans, hisses when you soak his pants. you are the prettiest thing he could ever hope for, the personification of the things he does not deserve and could never have, and it is selfish that he has taken you this way, but he does not fucking care.

the things we cannot have are the sweetest, the most desirable. and simon is nothing if he isn't a thief.

he is nothing if he doesn't just take what he wants. he likes to think that perhaps he adopts the "ask for forgiveness, and not for permission" philosophy, but he does not ask for forgiveness. and he has never asked for permission.

"please--simon--" you gasp, looking up at him. your eyes are wet, and a few tears wet his hand around your face. "please--inside me, please..."

"'s olright, luv--" he grunts, pumping faster, his pretty little wife just begging for him, for more, and how could he say no to that? "easy, baby...i'll give it t'ya, don't worry, fuck--" he hisses, "lieutenant's wife gets woteva she wants..."

"please--inside--" you choke. "simon, inside, i-i want it inside--"

fuck, that is all he needed. he nestles deep, pressing his hips to yours, and you kiss him once more when you go blind again. a second high, when he stuffs you full. just as you should be. just as you always should be.

"yeah, fuck--" he breathes. "tha' wot y'wanted, yeah? nice and full, good girl..." he licks his lips, standing up straight, and just when you think he is pulling out, he yanks you back towards him, cum leaking down your thighs as you cry out from being so sensitive.

"simon!" you gasp, giggling, and he grins, patting your ass gently before pulling out. you let your knees fall onto the cot, swallowing hard as you watch him tuck himself back into his pants and zip them up. he brings the mask back down, and you watch as he slips his gloves back on. "hmm..."

he tilts his head to the side, sighing as he watches you settle there. something warm settles in his stomach, something satisfied.

"like havin' y'in my bed," he says lowly. "look nice there."

you smile, and he holds out one hand, beckoning you to sit up. you do, slowly, a little shaky as you try and compose yourself, and he leans down and kisses you through the mask. you close your eyes, humming, leaning into his touch.

"so i can stay?" you ask, and he chuckles.

"mmm...y'r so cute, luvvie..." he rumbles. "a doll, yeah? can't say no to ya."

you look down at the ring on your finger, a solid gold band complete with a precious diamond. you will have to get used to this--you are his wife, you can ask things of him, and you don't think he'll say no.

you look up at him when he tosses something at you. an army green shirt of his, and you slip it on, letting the fabric fall, and you lay back down in his cot as he moves around his room. you lay in comfortable silence, watching as the thing that calls himself your husband looks for files on his desk, adjusts the gun strapped to his thigh, shuffles his boots across the linoleum. you are mesmerized by what he is, and you haven't known him even a day.

you don't believe this is your vision askew. the honeymoon phase. the sugary sweet moments in time at the beginning where nothing is wrong, where all is well. simon riley is a practical man. he does not lie. he does not do things he does not want to do, and he does not say things he does not want to say. he is not in the business of comfort and ease, that much is clear to you.

simon riley is practical and resourceful. you think maybe he counts his words. that he doesn't say more than he has to. waste his energy on things that don't require it.

his wife. i'm his wife. his wife.

"why..." you swallow. "why...why did you pick me?"

he pauses as he stands in front of a locker. when he opens it, you see shelves of personal weapons stashed away, handguns of different sizes and shapes, knives of differing steel, toys that with a small push of a finger could destroy whatever building they went off inside. you don't flinch, don't blink, don't feel fear. you don't know why, but you just don't. you don't think it's possible.

he doesn't look at you as he surveys what lines the walls of it.

"just knew y'were the one f'me, swee'eart," he mutters. he shuts the locker, and the lock clicks. he comes closer, twirling a small blade between his fingers, and you don't cower away when he flicks it towards you, holding your chin up with the sharp tip of it. he hums appreciatively at this. "in all honesty, had no idea really until i saw ya, 'f you'd be mine."

he bends down, leans close, and you follow the curve of the blade with your head, keeping your eyes on his. there is no timidness in your gaze, and for that, he beams under the mask. perfection in one woman.

"and what would you have done if i wasn't the one?"

he shrugs.

"would've killed ya, luv."

"just like that?"

"just like tha'."

the tip of his blade drags, sliding up the length of your throat, along the line of your jaw. your lips part as he traces your mouth with it, and you tilt your head to the side as you trace the edge of it with your tongue. he leans forward more, pressing his forehead to yours, and you can see where the eye-black around his eyes fades into his pale skin under the balaclava. you see yourself in those eyes. the you that you have been waiting for. the you that you have missed for your entire life. the you that has been hiding, too scared to come out, too afraid of what might be said if someone saw the real you.

she had not been hiding. just lying dormant, in someone else, waiting for you to come home.

you smile, big, and simon presses his mouth to yours again through the mask, kissing you there, growling from deep in his chest, a purr that only emanates the contentment and the relief he feels because he has found that thing to live for. it is so easy to die. it is so easy to give oneself for what they believe. it is not hard to give the best of yourself away, he knows that.

what he has never been able to do is find something that will keep him alive. he has only ever lived because he found dying pathetic. he found it cowardly. but the alternative had been just as unforgiving, just as unfulfilling. but not this. not you.

you will make it difficult to die. you will make death a challenge. and when he eyes that smile, this one that you give only to him, he is happy to be given this new objective.

"but don't worry y'r pretty head about all tha', luv."

you give him those eyes, and he drinks it all in, all that you are. finally, finally, finally--

"until death do we part, yeah?"

[purgatorytf]

I wanted to say how flattered I was to hear I inspired your first story, but it seems to me like you’ve had this TF magic in you all along 😉 You’re off to an incredible start, each of your stories has been so hot to read - I’m curious to see how you’d change me? You know how much I love writing about big, pussy obsessed straight men: I wonder if you’ll make me one or an item that a man like that uses and abuses. Have fun with it, bro!

First of all i really want to thank you and all the other people who've sent me nice messages. I've loved transformation for a while now, and i've been feeling like i wanted to give back so it's nice to hear that i've been able to do that so far.

Hearing that from you is especially gratifying because i really love your stories bro. They've really been an inspiration for me when writing mine first ones. I guess that if this thing keeps working out for me and we keep writing about the same stuff��� well we might have a bit of a rivalry on our hands haha…

"I wish i was joking … but honestly, i've really been thinking that. And honestly, you kinda offered yourself on a silver platter for me there. I'm sure you expected something fun with this but this is the perfect opportunity for me to take you out.

What's that look on your face ? This isn't what you wanted ? Well it's too late to turn back now bud. Besides, i already know exactly how you can be of use to me from now on"

With that, i snapped my fingers. You felt the effects instantly as your body wracked with immense pain. Twisting and distorting, your body adopted a new and improved form. You saw your skin become a pristine white as your flesh and bones restructured into a tightening weave of elastic fabric. You tried to scream at me to stop but you had already been silenced. Instead, your face reshaped itself into the front pouch of a pair of Calvin Klein underwear. As you fell on the floor, you struggled to take in your newly transformed world. Your mind was intact but all physical markers of who you once was were gone. Just a nice, brand new piece of clothing for me to ruin.

"Alright dude, just out of gratitude for the good times i had reading your stories, i'm willing you make you a deal. If you manage to keep your mind from breaking for one month then i will turn you back into a human. deal ? Well, i guess it's not like you have much of a choice anyway"

I took off my current underwear : a rank, soaked and yellowed thong. I threw it to the side on a pile of sportwear, all in a similarly perverted state.

"Don't look at the pile of used clothes over there bro. I promise you that it won't make you feel any better about what's coming for you" I stroked and jiggled my fat dick "And neither will looking at this huhu"

The literal gravity of your imminent fate set in. With a cocky smirk, i picked you up and slid you up my thick legs. Your wails of horror fell on deaf ears as your face pressed against my thick package, stretching and conforming to its every contour.

"Hehe, you hug my nuts so tightly bro. It's almost like you were always meant to be down there, servicing my musky balls."

And musky they were. An immediate sensory overload took over your brain. The instant warmth made you gasp for air but all you could inhale were fumes of sweat and dried cum. This masculine stench quickly permeated the entirety of your being, making you struggle to form coherent thoughts. To top it all, the moistness made your body stick tightly against my manhood, unable to get away from this reeking nightmare.

"Sorry about that dude. I should warn you; once i start wearing a pair of undies, i never change out until they're ruined. That means that 24/7 for the next month i'm going to wear you, work out in you, sweat in you, i'm even gonna cum in you. Oh bro, i'm gonna completely wreck you."

"I promise you that it shouldn't even take a month to completely break you. But try not to panic, there's a moment when you'll embrace your new purpose as my nice, sweaty underwear and it'll all become very pleasant. If or when that happens is completely up to you bro. You get to choose if this experience will be a disgusting or a pleasurable one. But remember, your humanity is on the line huhu."

The reality of your new life for the coming month fully dawned on you. Sweat. Piss. Cum. Constantly. What you had been writing and reading about on your blog for fun finally became your intoxicating reality. You were worried your brains were already melting. How the hell were you supposed to last an entire month ??? You were struggling and begging for mercy against my big … snug …. balls …

Your suffering psyche desperately tried to rationalize what was happening to you. Maybe this was possible … You could just … take care of my goods for a month and then … everything would be fine. You just had to …. not break…

I laughed in satisfaction as i pressed you further against my cock. Inspiration for a hot new story already struck me but i needed to go work out first. I wanted to get you all nice and soaked so that i could get you to enjoy this.

"No hard feelings bro."

[littlespoonevan]

canon lines from s4/5 that i think we should go a little berserk about again:

"i can know weird stuff too!!"

"if that's how you feel - how they made you feel - then you have every right to say so"

"show off" "i had to do it" "no, i know you did"

"it's like the universe is screaming at you and you refuse to listen." "the universe does not scream"

"there was construction on sunset, had to take a detour"

"Just make sure you're following your heart, not christopher's"

"I kinda lost it when I told him you got shot"

"you act like you're expendable but you're wrong" (lmao obviously i don't think we ever forgot that one)

"He takes christopher there all the time, got the place memorised"

"You need to tell me if something's wrong"

"Sorry about the mess but i guess it's your mess now"

"ice goes on the eye, bud"

"you don't need to pretend with me"

"buck, you need to move on. i have"

"i misunderstood the assignment"

"shouldn't it be when you're at your worst, they're at their worst, you have every reason to give up and you still want to try again"

"isn't that what we all want in a partner? knowing that they have your back?"

[flower-boi16]

”you want everything to be spelt out to you!” “The show doesn’t need to explicitly spell it out for you!” “You can just infer it!”

This is the exact same defense I always get whenever I argue with Viv fans when I criticize Viv’s piss-poor writing. And the thing is this IS true; shows don't need to explicitly spell things out to the audience, as there are conclusions that the viewer can draw on their own without having to be explicitly told by the text, usually by the text giving direct hints to that explanation.

The problem is that Viv fans' definition of inferring isn't "drawing conclusions on our own with direct explicit hints given from the text that is the canon explanation the story wants you to come to" it's "making shit up to try and explain and/or justify Viv's terrible writing".

There are three times where I got this defense when arguing with HH/HB fans all three times I lost several brain cells in the process.

The first time was in a discord server where I posted an HB episode tier list and put Truth Seekers in C tier (the mediocre one). One of users commented on this and I explained my reasoning why I thought the episode was meh. One of these reasons was the plot hole of why the Dhorks didn't send the footage they already had to the government.

The user then countered that with "how do you know didn't send that old footage?". Well, the reason why I know that is because the episode gives no actual indication that they sent it, and when I said that the user countered that with "because there was also no indication that they didn't send the footage". And then after that the argument spiraled into both of us repeating the same counterarguments over and over again.

The user says that it's logical for the audience to assume they sent the footage because it's the logical thing to do cuz why would they keep it. Which, ok, you can assume that they did send the footage but there's no indication of that within the story. This does not change the fact that this is an unanswered question that the story itself didn't answer, did they or did they not send the footage?

That's a pretty important question to answer and the show can't just leave it there. And then the user tells me "you don't need to be told, Its in your face how they act". There is no way to infer if they did send the footage because the story gives a SINGLE hint that they do, and the story DOES need to say if it they sent it or not.

This is not inferring. This is making shit up to explain Viv's writing for her. Did they or did they not send the footage? This is a big question that the episode does not answer even though this is a major plot hole and it can't just leave it hanging there for fans to just guess. The episode gave no indication that they sent the footage, so I have no reason to believe that they did. You can't infer ANYTHING from this.

This explanation is simply something made up, not a conclusion that's given direct hints from the show. If the next never said it happened, it did not fucking happen. This assumption is literally just headcanon.

The next argument was from an ask I got calling me media literate for my point about how fans shouldn't have to create fan theories to explain Viv's writing for her and Viv should explain her world-building herself. It stated that the explanation for why sinners are confined to the pride ring (making the exterminations more efficient/easier) is the clear explanation that the show doesn't have to spell out because 1) The show says that there are annual exterminations which aren't viable without the confinement and 2) Lucifer gets control over which ring his subjects go to.

Both of these explanations suck, here's why.

The exterminations simply being there does not explain the confinement. Also, this explanation doesn't work to begin with as I've talked about before

Lucifer having control over where he sends his subjects to doesn't inherently explain why he sends them to the pride ring specifically.

The "sinners are confined to the pride ring to make exterminations easier" was a fan theory created by the fans to explain this because the show itself didn't bother giving an answer. That's bad world-building.

The show itself needs to explain these things rather than having fans create explanations for it. There isn't any way to infer that because the show never once gives any hints that this is the reason. And, like I said before, the explanation doesn't even work anyway.

There is no way to infer why the sinners are confined to the pride ring at all, this explanation is once again a headcanon. But when I pointed this out, the anon said that I just want everything spelled out for me.

The third and final instance of this is with our good ol friend truffhollowell. Ya know, the person who's been going around on Hazbin critical posts spouting nothing but complete bullshit.

This argument was under this post about why Vaggie's turn around made 0 sense. In the post truff tried countering my argument with "uuuuh, actually, not all murderers are heartless monsters!" even though that is explicitly what the exorcists are shown to be.

They then go around and say that Vaggie could've been thinking "how could a child end up in hell" and she realizes Heaven's corrupt systems and develops her own identity (at least that's what I remember them saying since they deleted all of their replies once they lost the argument lmao)....even though there is NO indication within the show that this is what's happening.

This is not inferring. This is just a headcanon. But truff says that you CAN infer it because...child murder is bad...

...umm...WHY TF WOULD THE EXORCISTS GIVE A SHIT IF CHILD MURDER WAS BAD IF THAT CHILD IS A FUCKING SINNER????? And THEN they hit me with that same fucking claim of "oh, you want shows to spell things out for you!".

Ya, well, guess what, I can't infer any of this because that's not what's happening. This is not what's happening in the scene, this is just a headcanon truff made up.

There's more to their arguments than just that but that was the general point they were making.

I'm so sick of always getting this stupid-ass defense because NO, I DON'T want everything spelled out for me, I want things to actually make sense. I'm looking at specifically what the text itself is saying, the information that it gives out and what's happening within the show.

Not your headcanon you made up to explain Viv's terrible writing. None of these explanations are people infering things based on direct evidence from the show. They are just headcanons/theories with nothing in the text hinting towards it.

So, to anyone who is going to give me the "you can just infer it yourself!" excuse to defend these shows whenever I criticize them...

Shut the fuck up.

[strawberrymori]

Cloudy days clear nights

summary: When you grow up in a home where your parents are emotionally absent it affects your life, when your mother wasn't prepared to be a mother and throws all the traumas and insecurities she had at you it's not easy, a father who doesn't know how to apologize and lives drunk and has aggressive tendencies isn't easy to deal with, and reader relapses on a bad day that leaves you stuck in thought and she doesn't tell Natash, leaving her worried.

warnings: angst with happy ending , angst to fluff, use of Y/N sometimes, suicidal thoughts, mention of self-harm and scars from self-harm, Be careful if this triggers you, don't read if you know you can't deal with triggers, you are not alone and don't be ashamed to ask for help.

All the ghosts of the past follow me to this day, they all live in my mind and make me tremble like a child, today in particular was a difficult day, one of those reminiscent of school days.

The day had started well but the mission had gone wrong which had resulted in intrusive thoughts questioning whether she was really worthy of being there with the Avengers, then there was the meeting with Tony where he made a point of reminding her of the mistakes she had made.

At lunchtime there was the problem with the rain and the first phone call from her mother, the more the phone rang the more her appetite went away, there was no putting off the call for long.

The unpleasant voice came from the other end of the phone, things like "why are you still working there?" "you've been in newspapers all over the world, do you know how hard it is to have a daughter who doesn't do anything useful?" "did you really try to do something? of course not, you've always been worthless".

the voice yelled and screamed for a few minutes before hanging up, before Y/N could say anything or defend herself her mother's voice didn't stop and when it did it was because she hung up the phone.

To make matters worse, for the rest of the day her girlfriend, Natasha, was stuck at work until later, when Y/N was lying on her bed staring at the ceiling, she spiraled into a spiral of negative thinking.

she saw herself in high school again, being bullied by her classmates, she saw herself at that time taking out all the anger she felt on herself, she saw herself as the useless girl she had felt all day.

Y/N didn't know when she started crying but she felt the tears dripping from her eyes. She went into the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror, her hair messy with tears and her eyes red.

-How could Natasha like someone like me? - she asked herself, she had scars all over her thigh and wrist, she wasn't even that pretty.

-"Maybe I should just disappear... she wouldn't even notice," she muttered to her reflection in the mirror and sat down on the bathroom floor.

When the redhead returned home in the early hours of the morning, she felt a strange air hanging over the apartment. She walked into the kitchen, where the lights were off and a cold plate was on the sink.-Baby? - Natasha called out as she walked to her room. The light in the bathroom at the end of the corridor was on, which made her follow her there.

-"Honey, are you all right? It's me," Natasha said, trying to open the door and failing. "Honey, open the door," she said in a tone where she was almost begging her girlfriend to open the door.

The lack of response worried Natasha, who began to try to force her way into the bathroom. When the door opened, Natasha almost fell into the bathroom. She saw her girlfriend lying in the bathtub crying.

-Bear?- she said, running over to her girlfriend in the bath and kneeling down outside the bath - Look at me, darling, are you all right? What happened? - she says worriedly, putting her hand on Y/N's cheek.

The woman in the bathtub looks at the redhead and tears fall more than before -You shouldn't see me like this - she says as she looks away from her girlfriend.

-"Sweetheart," the redhead says as she steps into the empty bathtub and pulls her girlfriend onto her lap, "talk to me," she says as she strokes her girlfriend's hair. It took a while for Y/N to finally talk, she looked at Natasha and felt like crying even more.

-Today was so stressful...I made a mistake during the mission and Tony wouldn't let me forget it, so my mom called me...and - Y/N stuttered through her tears - I feel so useless, like I don't deserve this life - Y/N's comment made Natasha's heart sink, the redhead continued stroking the woman's hair in her lap and kissed her forehead.

-"Sweetheart, mistakes happen, life isn't easy but we can't let mistakes consume us, you fought to be here and you deserve all of this, I love you so much," she said, wiping away her girlfriend's tears, "come on, let's go to bed, so I can hug you properly," Natasha said, getting up and helping her girlfriend up too, she held her girlfriend close as they walked to the bed.

-Thank you Tasha - Y/N says as she looks at her girlfriend changing to lie down next to her.

-Thanks for what? - the redhead says, looking at the girl sitting on the bed.

-"For taking care of me...not letting me give up." The girl on the bed says looking at her scarred left arm, Natasha walks over to her and sits down next to her, taking her hand and intertwining their fingers.

-Thank you for what? - the redhead said looking at the girl sitting on the bed.

-For taking care of me...don't let me give up - The girl on the bed said looking at her scarred left arm, Natasha walked over to her and sat down next to her, taking her hand and intertwining their fingers.

-"Honey, you're my girlfriend and I love you more than anything, I'm not going to let you just fall apart, how many times have you helped me, huh? we're a couple, in good times and bad," Natasha says as she pulls the girl close and kisses the scars on her arm. "Those scars just show how strong you are, baby," Natasha says, looking into the eyes of Y/N, who was almost falling asleep in her arms.

-I love you Natasha.

-I love you too Y/N.

[feyd-rautha-aesthetic]

Love Bites - Chapter III / Sneak Peek!

! This sneak peek is almost continuously about sex, isn't it? But don't worry, the whole chapter also contains other topics. (Known topics - blood & gore, bit! soft Feyd- as usual only to you etc.) Even though I think this will be the chapter with the most smut content. It's going to be disgusting... I think... And mean. Him to you. :p

But also extreme soft, you'll see.

I hate his uncle, everyone hates Vladimir! ಠ_ಠ

❝Then I'll give up the nights with her. But only, when I can talk to her during the day. And by that I also mean outside of training.❞ Feyd spoke more and more firmly with every word. 'Talk' , Vladimir thought mockingly. His nephew shouldn't have mentioned that he had just disturbed their intimacy. He nodded to Feyd, but already had new plans in mind. ❝Make sure you don't make any more mistakes, nephew.❞

Mistakes? Him?

Feyds eyes met the Barons with full force. Anyone else would have pissed themselves in fear. But no matter what Feyd did, Vladimir didn't care. Especially not when you were the topic. Feyd had nothing to say, it was as simple as that. At least as long as his uncle was present. ❝I should have let her kill you yesterday!❞, he said angrily. His voice almost cracked, though he wasn't loud. Yet everyone here could hear his words. The Na-Baron didn't dare to move in those seconds. If he took only one step forward now, he was sure that even the guards wouldn't be able to hold him. He saw one of the ladies next to his uncle dare to raise her head and glance briefly at the young Harkonnen. Feyd recognized her immediately. It was the waitress from last night who had offered you and him the drinks on his celebration. ❝Yes, the offspring will be beautiful. That's for sure!❞ He answered her now. And he knew he had said the words out loud. The lady smiled gently, but lowered her head again. Vladimir turned to the ladies, but did not recognize who had raised their heads. ❝One of them complimented the Na-Baroness yesterday... no, us.❞ Feyd grinned nastily at his uncle. ❝If you continue to make mistakes, she will not bear your offspring!❞ Vladimir continued to clarify.

Shaking with rage again, Feyd left the hall without a word. He felt like you did yesterday, when you walked away suddenly. He swallowed, his eyes wandering back and forth, left to right, wondering how he could avoid his uncle's order. There wasn't much time for intense intimacy during the day. Today the training hall had been an exception because you had been in the same place at the same time and you had teased his ego. Maybe it wouldn't have occurred to him to touch you otherwise. Since he preferred to do it in a bed with you anyway. Or in the thermal, as he had discovered last night. And in that moment, he realized what the strange feeling inside him was. Grief. Even if it wasn't every night, he loved it having your body by his side. No matter whether it was in his chambers or yours. Holding you in his arms. Knowing that you were his property and there was nothing you could do about it. And he had to admit to himself that he liked it when someone felt comfortable in his presence. Except for his whores.

He knew that if Vladimir told them about his words, it wouldn't matter at all that he had only given them to Farris yesterday. And they would certainly be happy to be allowed to pleasure him again. No, to should. Feyd remembered your words, how you had told him in the thermal that it would be fine with you if he became intimate with them again. As long as it would put his uncle in a 'better mood'. And it really did seem that way. That it would make him feel better. The Na-Baron wondered if he could just refuse them. Or would they tell Vladimir? Feyd couldn't think straight at the moment.

-

❝Apologize, my Baroness.❞ , he said as he re-entered the training hall. You hadn't moved a bit, or so it seemed, during his absence. You realized immediately that something was wrong. ❝What happened?❞ , you asked, startled, when you saw the blood on the dagger. ❝My uncle was... talking.❞ Feyd explained as he knelt down to you and cut the tape from your wrists. You shook your aching joints once before he took a look at the irritated skin himself. ❝What did he say?❞, you asked, wanting to know for sure. Feyds appearance had changed. The previous grin was completely gone, now there was anger in him. Maybe even rage he tried to hide. The young man sighed, thinking about how he could explain it. ❝We're not allowed to see each other. Not at night anymore. He doesn't want us to be intimate with each other. The fact that you are my fiancée, the Na-Baroness, doesn't interest him in the slightest. From tonight, there will be guards outside our chambers at night.❞ , he began, kissing your skin below your belly button before pulling your pants back up. ❝Guards?❞ , you asked with wide eyes.

❝Mh-hm.❞ Feyd only said. ❝During the day, I think we can see us... still. But I don't know if he'll stick to those words.❞, he continued. It was hard enough for you to see each other during the day either way. You both couldn't spend the whole day in the training halls either. And even here, you didn't always meet. You looked again at the bloody sword. ❝It's not his blood. Unfortunately.❞ Feyd said. ❝It's from someone insignificant.❞ He took your face in his hands, stroking the dark circles under your eyes again. ❝I'm taking you to bed. You don't look healthy, you're pale. Training won't do you any good, or very little, if you're not in good shape.❞ He spoke as if he were talking about the weather - he sounded uninterested. Confusion spread through you. Mixed with a little fear. You still found it difficult to assess him and his emotions. His strong arms picked you up with ease and you leaned your head against his warm shoulder and, to be honest, were glad that you didn't meet anyone on the way. It must have looked pretty strange the way the Na-Baron was carrying you on his hands.

When you arrived, he carefully lowered your body onto your bed. ❝Drink.❞ , he spoke and gave you the glas bottle of water that was next to your bed. ❝Do you need anything else? Should a servant bring you something?❞ Feyd asked you, resting his head on your thigh. ❝I don't think so, thanks.❞ , you replied after a few sips of the cool liquid. Feyd took the bottle from you and took off your boots. Your pants and top followed, he didn't want you to sleep in those clothes. His eyes were glued to your naked chest, seeing his love bites and hickeys. And it aroused him far too much. ❝Fuck.❞ , he growled as his hands stroked your skin. ❝How dare he rip you from me?❞ , the Harkonnen murmured, slowly settling down and burying his nose in your neck until he finally started to spread kisses over your blotchy skin. ❝I'm going to kill this scum! Slash him open and let him bleed out long and agonizingly! A quick death would be a gift for him, but I won't give him that!❞ Feyd pushed your jaw back up to kiss the thin skin under your chin, down your throat. Marked you with more hickeys.

Only his.

He growled deeply, kissing the soft skin of your breasts. You sighed comfortingly and your slender fingers caressed his muscular shoulders. ❝You have to go.❞, you said quietly. The words hurt yourself as you uttered them. ❝I don't want to!❞ Feyd growled menacingly and his hands gripped tightly around your waist. He wanted to feel that you were with him here and now. He took the dagger with the dried blood from his belt and placed it next to you on the mattress. He didn't want to hurt you now.

You looked at the blade as Feyds lips made their way down your body. The bloody dagger had you so mesmerized for a moment that you hadn't even felt Feyds touch until he pulled your underwear off your legs. He knelt to the floor, pulled your body closer to the edge of the bed and kissed your lower lips as he spread your legs a little more. ❝What about my punishment?❞ , you asked breahthless. ❝That's off topic now!❞ , he snarled and gripped your thighs tightly with both hands.

(☞ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)☞

[leviismybby]

Cat and Mouse

Levi Ackerman x fem!reader, mdni, nsfw 18+, fingering

Levi's eyes scan the rooftops, he can hear you, hear your footsteps. He launches his gear at the nearby building wall and steps on the rooftop, spotting your figure he hides behind a wall and waits for you to pass by. This time, he won't let you off the hook easily, you were gonna rush past him but Levi surprises you, spins you around and pushes you against the cold surface harshly. You grunt as your back hits the concrete, your eyes narrow immediately before they meet his grey ones. He will never learn.

"Captain." That sarcasm in your voice isn't something Levi appreciated, he jas had enough of your games. Before he speaks, he pins your hands above your head, last time you pulled a stunt, he isn't letting that happen again. "What the fuck is your problem?" You know why he is mad, you've caused him quiet the trouble, not that you regret it. "My problem? I don't have one. You clearly do." A brat, you were such a brat and he couldn't fathom what keeps him so infatuated with you. Maybe it's the fact that you're a thief that the MPs can't seem to catch or maybe is the fact that you outsmarted him both time he caught you. Either way, Levi wants it to stop.

"You have to stop. The military police will get a bounty on that shitty head of yours. You fucked it up badly this time." He was right, you did fuck it up, stealing from the Garrison just for the thrill of it. If Levi didn't know any better, he would say that you're crazy, than again, he isn't exactly normal either and he is the last person to judge you given his past as a thug. "Aww, thanks for caring, I don't care." You try to stir out of his grip and he only tightens it, keeping you still. "You're fucking insufferable you know that?" It was true, you were an annoyance for him, he had better things to do than to chase a petty thief around Trost but there was something about you that kept him coming back. He hated himself for always giving in.

"I can only say the same, Captain. Why do you care so much?" You roll your eyes, trying to find a way out of his grip but nothing seems to come to mind. He is too close to you, you can feel his breath on your cheek, this is getting dangerous. "I don't dammit. I will be the first to celebrate when your ass gets thrown in jail." Maybe he should do it, bring you in and let the militray police do as they please with you but his inner turmoil isn't letting him, he hates to admit it but he enjoys this, the chase and the games between you. His comrads would be disappointed if they knew, he knows your face, knows how you work so why doesn't he just report you? It's a problem that he can't slove tonight.

You don't say anything, the words coming out of his mouth were harsh but true, you did keep him on his feet and you enjoyed the attention. "So report me. Or is your ego not letting you." He hides things well behind that indifferent expression but his eyes tell you a different story, there is hate there, of course there is, you two hold mutual hatred for on e another however there is desire there too, it shouldn't be. It really shouldn't. Levi scoffs at your words, his fingers wrap around your neck and he squeezes, his other hand still firmly holding your wrist together. "You're the egotist one here. You and your shitty criminal jobs. How much money did you earn by selling sealed information huh? What is your game here?" That was his main problem, you stole from the survey corps too and he doesn't appreciate it one bit.

His fingers squeeze your throat again, he wants you to answer but he won't approve if you lie to him. "Enough and I enjoy the chase. Noel matter how big or minor my crime is, you always comr running after me. Why is that captain?" Now there is a question he wants answer at least not with words. Hos face inches closer to you, your noses touching. "Fucking annoying brat." You smirk, your eyes drifting to his lips, will he finally do it or will he run away from it like all those other times? You don't move away or lean in, you simply wait, eager to feel his lips agsint yours.

And just like that, a groan leaves his lips, his hand moving down to your hip and his lips crashing agsint yours. Returning the kiss immediately, you feel his grip on your wrist loosen and insted he interlocks his fingers with yours, his kiss getting more passionate. You let your hand fall to his hair, pulling him into the kiss even more, his body presses up agsint yours, the heat between you making a shiver run down your spine. You moan as his hand moves to your ass and he squeezes, loving the sounds that are leaving your mouth. He needs to hear more and he plans too. His grip gets more and more possessive, his hands start to roam your body, feeling your every curve. You can't go all the way put here, both of you know that but Levi is letting his desire for you cloud his judgement and he can't keep his hands off of you even out here.

The two of you keep kissing for some time until Levi pulls away, a string of saliva connecting your mouth to each other. Levi's eyes look you up and down, he wants to fuck you here and now but it's too risky, so he will simply have to do something else. His mouth starts kissing your neck, each kiss more sloppy than the other, you throw your head back, giving him more space, you're enjoying this more than you thought you would. A gasp leaves your swollen lips when he bites into your skin leaving marks behind. "You smell so fucking good." He says against your skin before biting again, this time he hits your sweet spot directly, making a shiver run down your spine. You grab onto his shoulders, your body pulling it self closer to his. "Desperate are you? Fucking brat." He turns you around, your hands on the cold wall, he bucks your hips sligthy and gives your ass a firm slap, fuck the things he would do to you.

He lands another slap on your ass, his body pressing fully into yours, you can feel how hard he is for you. You bite your lip and reach out for his bulge but he slaps your hand away. "No. Keep your fucking hands on the wall understood?" You nod at his words, as much you want to talk back to him, you don't want to ruin this moment so you keep quiet and listen to what he says. You keep your hands on the wall feeling his run up and down your sides before the reach your pants. His hand slides in and you gasp at his cold fingers as they reach your core, he rubs you over your panties making soft moans come put of you. "Wet aren't you? Is this waht this whole thing is about? You want me to fuck you don't you?" Bingo, thats exactly what this whole thing is about, him finally breaching his breaking point and taking you.

Your hips buck into his hands, you want more. Levi chuckles, sending another shiver down your body, this is the first time you hear him chuckle and it's making you feel things. "Yeah? Oh you would love to have my cock deep inside of you right now. Too bad you're not getting it." He nibbles on your ear as he says that, his voice horase and rough, he is turned on beyond belief. He starts to rub you again, feeling the way the fabric of your panties is getting wet, you're phehetic, acting all though while all it took is a single touch for him to get you under his control, you melt so easily, he will indulge in that. Finally his fingers slip into your underwear and feels your pussy, his fingers runs down your slit, feeling your slick and walls, you're so wet for him, fuck he really is in trouble.

He kisses your shoulder, his fingers finding your clit, you thighs close against his hand, whimpers escape your mouth. "How cute. You're phehetic, so fucking easy to break." His fingers enters you without warning, it starts of slow, he loves teasing you but as soon as he feels your warm walls clench around his finger, he starts to finger you faster. "Fuck Levi." You say, your hands steady on the wall, he knows what he is doing. As soon as you said that, he adds a second finger keeping the fast pace, your eyes start to water as he curls them hitting that soft spot. He keeps pumping his fingers in and put of you, your actions are getting him more drunk, he loves how your body shakes just from him fingering you. He needs to control himself or else his cock will be buried deep inside of you and he can't afford that.

The more you react, the faster his pace gets, you forget completely where you are. That people can see and hear you but that's the last of your worries right now. You have Levi, the captain of the survey corps, humanity's strongest soldier fingering you on top of a building. This isn't how you wanted your afternoon to go but its far better than you ever imagined. His fingers keep moving inside of you, his other hand runs under your shirt and he grabs your breast, massaging it in his hands. "Are you gonna cum for me out here?" That makes your pussy clench aagsint his fingers again, you're getting close, that pit in your stomach starts to build up but you're not queit there yet. Levi knows how to push you over the edge, his thumb adds pressure on your clit and he keeps fingering you in a fast pace, the moan that leavs you is something you should be ashamed of, oh someone definitely heard you now, not that you care. "That's it. Good girl, cum for me, let me see you fall apart."

You can't keep your hands on the wall anymore, your grabs onto his arm with both of your hands, digging your nails into his shirt as you cum. You roll your hips, riding out of your orgsam against his fingers, he keeps them inside of you even after you cum. You catch your breath, your head falling back on his shoulder, he kisses the side of your face, he removes his hand from your underwear, his fingers are soaked. "Took about two fucking minutes to make you cum. Aren't you embarrassed?" He asks you as you open your eyes, your cheeks flushed, his hand is still on your breast and he squeezes it once more before letting go and setting both of his hands on your hips. He kisses you on the lips again, the kiss is quick and sloppy.

Eventually, Levi pulls away from you, cleaning his fingers with his cloth. You turn back around, leaning against the wall. The sun is starting to set and you don't know what to say. Levi looks your way again, he fixes his gear. "Stay out out trouble or next time I am fucking you on the wall for all to see. Understood?" That makes you laugh, he had a way with words but you wouldn't mind at all. "Oh captain my captain, if that will be the outcome, I will be gladly robbing the bank next." Your words make his eyes roll, you really were a brat. You fic yourself, fix your hair and look at him again. "See you around, Captain." You wink and get off the rooftop. Levi is left there, staring at the distance until he realised something, his wallet was missing. Damn you.

[o3o-aya]

Part three of demon slayer reader infiltrating Douma's cult. MOMMY PLEASEEEEEE 🥺, feed the readers, feed me 🤲 aaaaaaaaaa. Also please take you're time, don't stress yourself, and make sure to take care of yourself. 😠❤️

I NEED TO KNOW HOW DOUMA TREATS READER DURING HER PREGNANCY and also how he reacts to her giving birth and almost dying bc ~demon baby~ yk? I feel like he would maybe turn her into a demon but like what if it's a close call and she's like .0001% alive at this point bc that baby probably gonna be a menace.

yith :)

TW- blood, childbirth, nsfw

As your unwelcomed pregnancy progressed, Douma just became more and more unbearable!

You couldn't stand how he was around you more!

You couldn't even take a walk without him bugging you!

Sighing as you placed your hand on your stomach before you looked down at the lotus flowers, they were lovely this year...

The same couldn't be said for him...

"Aren't they pretty y/n-chan?!~" He cooed at you before he paused as you looked away from him.

"Aw don't be rude to me...~" He pouted at you, grabbing your jaw as he turned your head to look at him.

"We should think of names to call the baby!" Douma cried out with a wide smile.

"Isn't your so called master going to eat it...?" You grumbled out as you looked at him, you had no choice to look at him after all...

Your eyes widened as his sharp nails dug into your flesh, feeling the blood drip down your cheeks.

"Now now my flower... This is an experiment... We get to keep this one..." Douma said, a smile still on his face.

"So shut up about that." He said before he let you drop to the floor.

You winced as you looked up at him, panting softly.

"Someone clean her up." He waved to a servant before he walked away.

You had to get out here...

~~~

Watching as the cult member rubbed your ankles, you turned away in slight annoyance before you sighed.

"Unhappy my flower?" Douma cooed as he placed his hand on your stomach, rubbing it gently.

"Ah! You're hungry! You need to eat so our child can be healthy..." He said as he snapped his fingers at someone to bring you food.

As the meats and rice were placed in front of you, you went to reach for them...

Douma snatched it away. "Say ahhh! You can't strain yourself now! You're with child!" He said happily as he tilted his head.

You didn't know how much longer you could stay...

He did have an uppermoon meeting coming up...

~~~

"Now now my flower... You shouldn't move to much now." Douma said as he sat you down on the beanbag looking thing...

"Just sit here and rest... Someone will bring you tea." He said to you as he smiled.

"I'll be back shortly..." He said as he walked out of the room.

You sighed as you drifted your eyes before you looked away, looking back up as the servant walked in, placing down the tea before leaving.

You looked at it as your eyes narrowed, something felt...

Off...

No mind...

You slowly picked up the cup as your took a sip, drinking it before you stood up and went to grab your stuff to escape.

~~~

Your escape attempt were foiled...

Foiled by what?

Your sudden labor pains...

You never expected this... You were a month early...

You weren't due for another month!

And Douma was at an uppermoon meeting... Your screams echoing the halls of the temple..

Squeezing the hands of one of the midwives as you pushed.

It was hours... You didn't know how long...

Until you heard the midwife...

"It's a boy!" She cried before handing you the crying baby...

You looked at him through your hazy gaze... The baby handed to you...

He was so little... So defenseless...

"So we have a son!" Douma said as he entered the room, a smile wide on his face.

Coming to your side as he kneeled down.

"Maybe next time you won't plan to leave my flower...~" He cooed in your ear as your eyes widened.

"Then maybe I won't slip that root in your tea..."

~~~ The weeks passed...

Your son grew... Well, just a little.. As much as newborns could...

Letting out soft whimpers as Douma sucked on your nipples, his hips slapping against yours.

"It's been so long...~" Douma cooed as he thrusted into you.

"But your body remembers who it belongs you...~" He smirked as he moved and pressed a kiss to your neck.

Your body reacting to his every touch...

You hated it....

~~~

Staring down at your baby boy... Hiroshi...

Narrowing your eyes at him as you gripped the side of the cradle, he looked like you...

Yet he had that monster's eyes...

You brought the dagger up as you looked at him.

You were going to do it...

Yet you paused, watching as Hiroshi reached up to you with a smile.. Dropping your dagger as you fell to your knees.

"I'll never get out of here..."

[laurfilijames]

"I'm gonna say something. Are you listening?"- Frankie "Catfish" Morales, Triple Frontier

Good. Thanks Frankie.

I've been doing a lot of thinking lately.

About fandom in general, interactions or lack thereof, how something you can feel so happy and passionate about can make you sad at the same time.

The idea of no longer sharing my fics has also been something that's crossed my mind on numerous occasions, but at the end of the day I WANT to share them. I am proud of them and I figure if they make me this happy, I hope they can make someone else happy too.

I continue to trek on, trying to compartmentalize my feelings and press on, creating fics I think others will enjoy as well, and praising the gorgeous man who plays gorgeous characters whose stories I love to change or extend.

Recently, I've felt guilt. Guilt that I haven't been creating and posting enough things for you to indulge in. And then I remember that in the last 4 weeks, I wrote and posted 3 fics.

3 fics where a majority of the reblogs are my own, and most of the notes are likes.

I'm feeling this way because of the lack of interaction. I'm not blaming or pointing fingers or trying to extend any guilt to any of you (and thank you endlessly to those who do reblog and comment and send messages and have conversations about them 💗) But I can safely say that this is a widespread issue across all fandoms alike.

It's disheartening. People leave and give up and have their creativity crushed to the point they no longer participate or share their wonderful art.

I came across a post that I reblogged yesterday that added another level onto all of this.

Artists and writers having to "market" and promote their work in hopes it'll help drum up excitement for what they have coming up.

As if taking the time and energy to create that fic of piece of art isn't enough, now we have to work like a full marketing team in hopes we will get a few more reblogs or comments.

I have seldom participated in tag games where you share snippets of WIPs etc because more often than not, the response to them are *crickets*. It's embarrassing and gives off that "no one is interested so why bother sharing it" vibe.

We shouldn't have to work that hard to get feedback on the things we share.

I know, and respect, that some people experience comment anxiety, but I promise you that if you're able to, whether it be a string of emojis or keysmashes or even a gif, you will be making a difference.

This happened to me yesterday.

Right when I felt like it's all fruitless, someone swooped in with a comment that gave me hope and reminded me why I do it. And it was on my least popular (and personal favourite) series to boot.

Because of this simple act of communication, my hope and motivation has been restored.

Now I know I'm going to get people saying "you should write for yourself" (I do) and I shouldn't rely on others to keep me motivated (I don't, I have Charlie Hunnam for that) but it's such a key component to all of this and I think most creators can agree to that.

So please, for the love of fandom and the things you love (the actors, the characters, the shows or films) PLEASE INTERACT WITH THE ARTISTS AND WRITERS WHO CREATE INCREDIBLE ART AND FICS FOR THEM.

You may not realize what an effect you have, but I promise you, you do, and it may even help save your favourite artist from abandoning it all.

[givemewallywestorgivemedeath]

your tags on parenting make me super emotional <3 that's exactly the kind of parent I want to be one day

Thanks! I feel the same way honestly. I have a lot of opinions about parenting and I can't say that I will be the perfect parent because that doesn't exist. I can't even say that my hypothetical future kid/kids will be perfect because children don't grow in a vacuum. I can only control what I do and say and try to be the best version of myself and hope for the best.

[steakout-05]

eeuuaghh i would like everyone to know that i apologise if i have not responded to your reblogs/mentions/posts on tumblr, i have really terrible social anxiety and for some reason people talking to me makes my nervous system think i'm being hunted for sport by a resident evil boss. sorry if i havent responded i'm not being rude i'm just having a panic attack :P

additionally: social anxiety is actually the reason why a lot of my old posts from late 2022 had weird spacing and spelling mistakes. i was too anxious to type properly

[kulemii]

yall can call it a bad take all you want but my own personal belief is this: the sooner you take these celebrities and demote them from the pedestals you place them on then look at them as no more than people who are providing you with a service, you will stop being so distraught when it comes out that they're not as good of a person as you thought they were. when i go to starbucks, you think i give a flying fuck what susie sara tweets about during her breaks? no, as long as my white mocha comes with almond milk, extra whip, we all g and i'll see her tomorrow.

that's the same way i look at these celebrities. they're an actor? cool, can't wait to see their next project but when it comes out that they've tweeted something unsavory, guess what? i couldn't give a flying fuck if i tried but im just there for the movies. what they do in their free time does not affect me. and yeah, many of you might are you "well they have a platform! they're harmful to blah blah blah blah" you know why that is? because yall care too goddamn much! yall give too much of a FUCK what these bitches gotta say and that's yall's problem.

so when it comes out and you're sitting there gagging and crying and throwing up over something that some person that doesn't know you even exist has said, remember how much power YOU are giving them over your life. sit with that. then decide if it's worth continuing or not because i can tell you right now? for me? as a grown adult woman with bills to pay? it's not- their stupid statements aren't going to affect my credit score so why should i let it affect my emotional state?

[naamahdarling]

.

[teacherstudiies]

So I have completed my student teaching, and I’ll officially start at a first year high school science teacher in the fall. I’m so excited but I get a sense of disappointment from the people around me. That they expected more. I was initially going to go into medicine and the amount of respect I would get during that time is incomparable to now. How can I deal with these feelings? Have you ever been shamed for choosing teaching as a profession?

This is wild to me because I always considered teaching on the same level as medicine. Not that I'm a fan of ranking careers...everything is valuable. So no, I've never been shamed for choosing teaching.

Where are you from? I'm aware that teaching as a "valuable" job heavily depends on culture and country. As for me, teachers are civil servants in Germany and our income is very good. It's true that teachers used to be more appreciated back in the days but it's still a respected profession here. There's a reason it takes you almost 7 years to become one...

I also come from a non-university family. I'm the only one with a Uni degree so my choice of profession is valued highly anyway. I never grew up with any kind of pressure to even go to Uni. My parents never forced me to take on any kind of career. So there's no shame in that regard.

I think you should re-wire your brain. One of the reasons I went into teaching is the purpose I get from this job. In my eyes, there's nothing more valuable than helping to raise and educate young people. Any other internship I've done that had to do with economics seemed so...meaningless to me. Teaching isn't, it's full of meaning and I get to teach what I love (!!). Teachers may not be able to move mountains and change the world, but we can help equip the younger generations with skills and confidence to live thoughtful and sustainable lives. I find a lot of value and meaning in that. I had a student tell me she was inspired by me and she would try the thing she was scared of trying. How could I ever be ashamed of that 🥰

And besides that? I don't care about approval if I do things I love. There's always going to be someone who doesn't approve, who earns more money, etc. Why should I care if I wake up in the morning not hating my life. There's a lot of value in doing what you feel drawn to. Not everyone is as lucky.

You can only get shamed if you feel ashamed. So don't. Be proud and secure in your choice. There must have been a reason why you chose teaching. Own it ! You don't live life for others.

[viosjaan]

i don't think you want anything to do with me anymore so i can just vent the texts i want to send to you here

[wasabikitcat]

This might just sound like semantics but I feel like some of you guys are too obsessed with "normalization" when what really matters first and foremost is acceptance. A lot of these fringe gender identities and sexualities are never going to be "normal" in the public eye and that's okay because being normal blows and is lame. There's always going to be people who don't like you for some aspect of your identity and no amount of normalization is going to change that because some people are just assholes who don't like anyone who isn't generic and conforming to social expectations. There is no changing this.

What is worth changing is acceptance. People are always going to think other people are weird and it's their right to feel that way, but "weird" people shouldn't have to live in fear that those people who don't like them will decide to physically harm them or take away their rights to live how they want. We need to create a culture in which everyone accepts that some people are just weird in their opinion, but it's never even remotely acceptable to cause harm to someone just because they're "weird" and that makes you uncomfortable.

We don't need to live in a world where everything is "normalized" and they're teaching kids about xenogenders in school or whatever because that's A. Never going to happen and B. Why would you want to be normal anyways? Be weird, who give a shit. But the world we should live in is a place where being weird means some people are just not going to like you, rather than some people are going to try and make your life hell just because they don't like you.

We don't need to be normal, we just want the right to be weird.