#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.

[jarofstyles]

Can you write something about love bites pretty pleaseeeeee like Harry’s obsessed with giving them

Yes 🤭🤭🤭🤭 here is a tiny one!

Check out our Patreon

Warnings- kinda dirty hehe

——

“So pretty.” Fingers brushed over her sensitive skin as she looked in the mirror, trying her best to ignore how the sensation wanted to make her shiver. The large form behind her wasn’t helping her achieve that at all. “You look so gorgeous tonight but… my favorite are these.” The marks on the curve of her neck that he’d sucked into pretty bruises, blooming purple.

It was no secret between them that Harry quite liked the marks on her, but he liked putting them there the most. “Thank you.” She laughed through her nose, blending the makeup on her cheeks before setting the little sponge down. “But you’re very distracting, you know that? How am I supposed to cover them if you’re petting all over them?”

“Don’t!” The whine was nearly comical as she caught his scowl in the mirror. “Don’t cover up the art, precious. Leave ‘em there.” It was a travesty, in his opinion, any time they were covered with makeup. Even if she was quite talented at the magic of making them disappear, he didn’t appreciate his little marks of love being covered up. “S’not like we’re going to the Louvre- which, they’d probably appreciate the art anyways. We’re goin’ for drinks at a dingy club to buy overpriced martinis while we chat shit while I wait for you t’get tired enough for me to bring home and love on you.”

Harry was many things. Blunt was one of them.

“Tell me how you really feel, H.” She snorted, putting powder under her eyes. Her hand stuttered though, when she felt him tuck his face into her neck and a wet, hot swipe licked over the marks. It was a bit pathetic how quickly she felt lax, like a dog rolling over for belly rubs, but she gave a shaky exhale as his teeth found a new patch of skin to nibble on.

“I feel like… you should leave those marks so people know t’fuck off, that you get fucked well, that you’re mine. Let their imaginations run wild about how I gave ‘em to you balls deep, or if I did them just like this. As long as they know that you’re a loved and taken woman, m’a happy man.” The grumbles against her skin were finished with another bite, eliciting a noise blooming from her throat.

It was hard to say no to the man in most capacities, with his soft green eyes and his strawberry pout, but when he ran his hands over the front of her dress and his tongue over her throat as he found a new patch to work on, sucking harshly enough to make her knees weaken and her clit throb between her legs? It was impossible. “Harry…” the sigh of his name was accompanied by the lull of her head back against his shoulders, letting him slip his hands under the front of her dress and the makeup brush fall into the sink.

“Lucky we’re even goin’ out when all I want to do is worship that sweet cunt all night. But I’ll be good, I’ll let you get finished with your makeup and all that if you leave ‘em be. Show ‘em off for me. Please?” The plead was melted into her bones, breathing picking up as his fingers cupped over her lace covered cunt, holding it firmly. The man knew how to get his way and this was a solid example. The sweet and silly vibe of the room transforming into the hot and sensual teasing one that he had mastered the art of. “I’ll let you choose whatever you want me t’do to you tonight. Whatever my girl wants. Jus’ let me give you another one and leave my art alone. Everyone should be able to see it.”

How could she say no to that?

[coolemmasulivan2]

Clumsy Woman

Pairing: Rúben Dias x Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend doesn't like how clumsy you are, afraid you might seriously injure yourself.

Word count: 1976

Can't pretend to understand I'll be here to hold your hand I will wait for you, I will wait for you

You had been clumsy from a young age. Falling from trees, falling off bicycles, or simply tripping over your own feet seemed to be your speciality. It was during one of these graceful performances that you met your boyfriend, Ruben. You were barreling toward a magnificent face-plant when his strong arms caught you, saving you from certain embarrassment.

"I want to paint that wall!" You announced over breakfast one morning, your eyes sparkling with determination. "A deep blue, maybe."

Ruben raised an eyebrow, glancing between you and the wall. "That bookshelf has to go first." He pointed out. "It's heavy. We can do it together this weekend." He kissed your forehead and grabbed his keys. "I have to go!"

"Bye." Your attention was still on the wall and Ruben knew what you were thinking.

"Don't do it!" He called out as he reached for his bag. "Wait for me."

"But it's my day off!" You protested, already picturing the transformed wall. "I can at least start." Ruben gave you a look. "Fine." He gave you one final kiss on the lips and then left for training.

You didn't like to stay still at home. There was always a compulsion to be busy, so when boredom crept in, your eyes fell on the wall, then the bookshelf. Maybe it wasn't that difficult. With a burst of energy, you dashed out the door to buy the paint and everything you needed to paint the wall.

At home, you slip into old clothes and turn up the music. The bookshelf was packed with your books and Ruben's trophies. He'd be furious if he saw you right now, but you would prove you could handle it alone.

The bookshelf, a dark wood monster that dominated the room, had been a custom order. You started by emptying it, a task that required more muscle than expected. Then came the acrobatics. With much effort, you managed to slide a rug under one end. But as you attempted to repeat the same on the other side, disaster hit. Your hands slipped and the bookshelf came crashing down on your bare foot. A scream ripped through you as pain exploded.

"Don't do it!" Ruben's words echoed in your head. He was so going to kill you.

With a grunt of effort, you lifted the bookshelf off your foot. Pain shot through you as you collapsed to the floor, cradling your injured limb. It looked horrific, swollen and red. Trying to stand was a mistake, as a fresh wave of agony crippled you. You couldn't walk.

"Oh God, oh God!" Panic set in. Your phone was fumbled out of your pocket. You needed help, and you needed it now. Ruben wouldn't be home for hours. Calling an ambulance was the only option.

Ruben stepped into the locker room, and he heard the insistent vibration of his phone. "That thing hasn't stopped ringing." Bernardo commented, a grin spreading across his face.

Ruben's brow furrowed as he glanced at the caller ID. It was Lily, your best friend. "Hey, Lily, everything okay?"

"Hi Ruben, sorry to bother you, but I was supposed to meet Y/N at your place, and she’s not there and a neighbour mentioned seeing an ambulance at your building." His blood ran cold. "Do you know what happened?"

"I can't believe her!" His voice rose in frustration. "She wanted to paint the wall, the one with the bookshelf. I told her not to touch it!" A wave of dread washed over him.

"She probably didn't listen. Oh God." Lily knew you better than anyone. Your stubborn independence was legendary. "I've tried calling her, but no answer."

"Let me take a shower really quick and then I'll call you back."

Bernardo and Walker exchanged concerned glances. "What's going on, man? Your girl in trouble again?" Walker asked, his tone laced with disbelief.

"Looks like it!" Ruben replied, his voice rough. "She can't stay out of trouble for five minutes. Fuck." He desperately searched for the contact of his friend Eric who worked at the hospital. He answered on the fourth ring.

"Hey, mate, what's up?"

"Eric, man, sorry to bother you, I know you're working, but I need a huge favour." Ruben rushed out, his voice was laced with urgency.

"Shoot!" Eric replied, his tone professional.

"Can you check if Y/N was admitted to the hospital? I think she might have had an accident. Again." He quickly explained the situation, his voice rising with each word. Eric promised to check and call back in a few minutes.

"I'm gonna be quick in the shower." Ruben said, turning to his friends. "If Eric calls, can you answer? Please." Walker and Bernardo nodded.

He'd never showered so fast in his life. Emerging a few minutes later, Bernardo was already on the phone.

"I'll tell him, thanks, Eric," Bernardo said, hanging up.

Ruben's heart pounded in his chest. "So?"

"She's there. Broken foot, but she's okay." Bernardo reported.

"For fuck's sake."

You rolled your eyes as Ruben burst into the hospital room. His face was a mask of irritation. Lily, who'd arrived earlier, squeezed your hand in silent support before stepping back.

"Seriously, Y/n?" Ruben’s voice was dripping with disbelief. "I told you to stay put."

"I'm fine, thanks for the concern." You replied, your tone dripping with sarcasm. You loved him and knew he was worried, but sometimes it felt suffocating.

"A broken foot means you’re not." He disagreed. "Can’t you just stay still for one day?"

You didn’t want to argue, especially as he seemed to have woken up on the wrong side of the bed. "I’m a grown woman, Ruben. I don’t need you to tell me to sit still."

"Well, you don’t act like one. Sometimes I feel like I’m dating a child." His response was harsh and unexpected.

Shock washed over you. Had he really just said that?

"Maybe you should break up with this child then. I wouldn’t want to keep the great Ruben Dias from the real women in the city." You retorted, your voice trembling with anger.

He ran his hand through his hair, frustration etched on his face. He knew his words had been cruel, but his worry often manifested in this way. But breaking up with you was the last thing he wanted.

"You know that’s not what I meant-- what are you doing?" He began, but you cut him off as you tried to stand, to reach for the crutches. He pushed you back down, but you quickly pushed his hand away.

"Lily, can you take me home, please?" You asked, ignoring Ruben completely.

Lily, who had been a silent observer, helped you up.

"I can take you home!" Ruben offered.

"I don’t want you to take me home." You replied coldly. "You don’t have a car seat for a child, remember?"

Using crutches was something familiar. This wasn’t your first rodeo. You had broken other body parts before.

In the car, Lily broke the tense silence. "You know he’s just worried about you."

"I know, but that doesn’t give him the right to treat me like a child. "He has known since the beginning how clumsy I am. If he can’t handle it, maybe we shouldn't be together."

"Don’t say that!" Lily replied, her voice firm. "You two can't live without the other." Through the rearview mirror, you saw Ruben’s car following you. "I know it’s hard, but try to understand his point of view."

You looked away, trying to focus on anything but the conversation. You knew Lily was right. Ruben loved you, and his overprotectiveness came from that love. But it was hard to accept when it felt like he was suffocating you.

As the car pulled up to your apartment building, you felt a pang of sadness hit you. Lily opened your door, and carefully you stepped out. "Thanks for everything, Lily. I really appreciate it."

She smiled. "Anytime, Babe! Call me if you need anything, okay?"

You nodded and the the help of the clutches you walked towards the building entrance. As you turned around, you saw Ruben's car waiting for the garage door of the building to open up. You hesitated, looking at his car for a long moment before turning and going inside.

When you entered the house, you realised that your books were scattered like confetti, Ruben's trophies were still on the dining table, and the monstrous bookshelf stood there, a mocking presence in the room. It was impossible to clean it up. Not with your foot like that.

A few minutes later, Ruben entered the house and he looked around it. You were nowhere to be seen, but by the sound of the water running, he knew you were taking a shower. Without his help.

What if you fell? He shocked the thought out of his head. You needed space and he was going to give it to you. Kind of.

Jumping from the shower with only one foot and the other in the air, you dried yourself and put on your pyjamas. You felt like everything was hurting, but you had to prove a point to Ruben. You could do things alone without needing his help.

As you opened the bedroom door, the smell of the food hit you and your belly made a noise, not realising how starving you were. However what surprised you the most was not Ruben cooking but the fact the bookshelf was no longer on the wall that you wanted to paint, but the wall in front of it, with all his trophies and your books. Everything was really clean and the small lamp you had on the corner where you sat reading was welcoming.

The table was set, and Ruben was busy tossing salad at the kitchen island. When he saw you emerge from the bedroom, he paused, his expression softening.

"How are you feeling?" His voice was gentle, laced with concern.

You met his gaze with a cold stare. "Fine."

You grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, walking around the kitchen with surprising ease on your crutches. Ruben watched your movements with a mixture of relief and worry.

He sighed, setting down the salad bowl. "Can we talk?"

You scoffed. "Are you sure you want to do that? You think talking to a child is easy?" Your voice was sharp, but a pang of hurt shot through you as the words left your lips.

Ruben rinsed his hands and pulled out two chairs. Gently, he guided you to one and sat down across from you. His hands rested lightly on your bare legs. "I'm so sorry for calling you a child. I didn't mean it like that, and you know it."

You looked away, unable to meet his gaze. "It still hurt." You mumbled.

"I know, I know. I've been overprotective." He admitted. "But every time you get hurt, it feels like my heart stops. I worry about you constantly. But calling you a child was wrong, and I'm truly sorry."

Your anger was slowly dissipating. You couldn't stay mad at him for long. He always knew how to break through your walls. "You're an idiot if you think this is the last time I'll hurt myself." You retorted, trying to sound tough.

He chuckled softly. "Let me be an idiot, then. I love you, you know that, right?"

Ruben's eyes held yours. Slowly, he leaned forward, his hand reaching out to gently cup your face. Your heart pounded in your chest as his gaze lowered to your lips.

With a hesitant touch, his lips met yours. It was a soft and passionate kiss. As the kiss deepened, you felt a surge of relief and happiness wash over you. In that moment, nothing else mattered.

A small smile crept onto your face. "I know. I love you too."

[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.”

[onelittlespiral]

Hey, it's been pretty hard to motivate myself to write lately with my new job, so I want to reward someone who's doing a great job getting his work done lately. I want to give idesofrevolution a nice musky dudebro transformation he'll really love, and hopefully the mystery transformation gives me some more free time to be horny and creative.

Subject: Order #100690

Dear Fred,

Thank you for your recent purchase from The Spiral, home for all your transformation needs! Your order #100690 has been received and is on its way as we speak. Your order includes:

(1) Bro(Musk)_From_Friend(Online; Blog)

(1) Mystery(Self)

Please note that due to the subject’s history with transformations, delivery methods may be delayed or gradual. Expect fulfillment in 2-3 weeks.

Sincerely,

The Spiral

We knew you’d come around and round and round and round…

You couldn’t wait to hear back from The Spiral, checking your inbox every couple of hours for any updates on delivery. Training was slow and boring at the new office, so there wasn’t much to do besides sit through the standard HR videos on one monitor and scroll social media on the other. That was when you received an email notification. You opened it up, and excitement turns to disappointment. Just another boring diversity video. You pop it up on the side, plug in your headphones, and wait for the stock music and graphics to start. Except, this one is different. You are watching from a first person perspective as a man walks into a room and lies down on a couch. The camera captures his enormous pecs, hiding the rest of his torso, as they flex a little. You glance around the office, nervous about who may be watching. Something must be wrong, this can’t be your afternoon assignment. But your eyes are drawn back to the screen when the door opens again and another beautiful man graces the screen. Your eyes fix on his, as he leans into the camera for a kiss. You can almost feel his heat through the screen, and you’re soon relaxed in your chair, watching the show.

As he slowly grinds against you, you subconsciously begin to rub at your own crotch, simulating his movements. You begin to feel a horny fog fill your mind as you begin to buy into the fantasy, beginning to ignore your surroundings and forget about your coworkers. It isn’t long before your dick is fully out, imaging how good it feels to have his soft hands rubbing your hardening member. You don’t even notice how much you are beginning to leak pre-cum, synchronized with when he places his delicate lips on your cock and takes the whole member in one motion. You lean back in your chair and let the waves of pleasure relax your muscles. You begin to feel so heavy, as your arms grow tired of stroking. You place them behind your head, letting this experience overtake you as you continue to have your cock expertly worked by a pro. You begin to match his tempo, thrusting in time. Your grunts are getting deeper as you begin to get close. Your partner feels it coming, and steadies his tempo. He doesn’t want you to come too soon. But the fog in your brain is only intensify, leaving you more aroused by the moment. You aren’t able to hold it in much longer.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum in you, and you better not miss a drop,” you say, and his eyes show understanding. You reach out and tug at his hair, taking control of the tempo as his eyes begin to water. But he doesn’t have to worry for too long. You are soon dumping your load in his stomach, and he cums hands free in turn, as the director gets the money shot.

“CUT! That’s a wrap.”

Your partner gets up and wipes himself down. You just grab your shorts and sit back down on the couch.

It’s going to be a long day of shooting, but you love it. At least here you get to be horny and own it. And, more importantly, get paid. Could be worse. You could be stuck at some stuffy office job. Just then your phone buzzes with a notification. One of your friends just posted, let’s see… oh, @idesofrevolution. Good thing too, you had been worried about Frost. Annnnd a second notification from your management company, The Spiral. They were sending you some confirmation info��� something about the Doctor himself coincidentally enough. Seemed to be some details about a movie scene or something meant for him, so probably some mix up. Let’s see what it says…

Dr. Frost was has some background knowledge on our methods from years of research into his own transformation methods. Consequently we took a more gradual approach. Slowly, we began introducing neural waves throughout his day to prime him. In his home, in his car, on his blog, we implemented subtle messages about growth. About muscle. About musk. After all, who needs to waste so much time showering every day? When his deodorant sticks keep going missing, what was the point in buying more? After all, he no longer had much time to go to the store, as he logged off from work and drove straight to the gym every day. At first he wondered why he was suddenly so worried about his health. But as we continued to amplify our waves, he soon stopped worrying. It was natural to want to be strong. It was natural to reek. It was natural to feel good, bro. I’m in control.

As his musk intensifies, he is only conditioning himself to become more and more self indulgent. We began alternating frequencies, sending his testosterone through the roof, driving a new crop of hair growth and keeping his balls plenty full. Between his pit stench and constant gym pump, he is keeping himself at a near constant leak of pre-cum, and quickly soiling any attempt at covering himself up. Not that he cares. He hasn’t showered in a few weeks, only allowing himself tongue baths from whatever gym bro he catches staring and manages to get into his truck for a make out sesh. His memories are evaporated, nothing more than a sweat stain on his favorite cap. His brain is so high on his own supply, our neural waves had to be amplified to get through his brain fog. Hell, he can hardly form a proper sentence, bro. We have taken the liberty of updating his blog to more accurately reflect his new interests. His stories have been replaced with his thirst traps and progress photos. We are satisfied with his progress and have left him to continue his journey of his own, new and improved, free will.

You should really reach out to him sometime. See if he wants to take his modeling career in a new, more exciting direction. Could be fun to suck that musky cock…

Subject: Order #100690 Fulfilled

Dear Fred,

Your order has been fulfilled. We know you have many options, but thank you for supporting The Spiral.

Sincerely,

The Spiral

[archangeldyke-all]

slow living reader and sev having a baby? 🥹

AWE of course!

also! this is the fifth little blurb for this series so i'm giving it an emoji on my masterlist! 💐 lets do a little bouquet of flowers because i picture a bunch of wildflowers surrounding your garden :)

men and minors dni

sevika doesn't fuck around when it comes to your pregnancy. so while you're used to getting up in the early morning and spending a couple hours on your hands and knees in the garden and hauling wheelbarrows around your property-- the moment you find out you're pregnant, sevika puts you on a ban from all physical activity.

it's ridiculous. you're barely three weeks pregnant, and sevika's insisting on helping you carry a gallon of milk in from the goat pen. just a gallon.

it's sort of nice though. your baby certainly takes after sevika, if it's appetite is anything to go by. while you're usually happy snacking on snap peas and berries from your garden all day until dinner, where you eat a hearty meal cooked by sevika: now you're shoveling half a dozen scrambled eggs down your throat in the morning, eating through a month's worth of cheese and crackers in the afternoon, and snacking on spicy pickles when you can't sleep in the middle of the night.

sevika finds it hilarious. you guys buy a few more ducks to keep up with the rate your house is eating eggs.

as annoying as she is when she's insisting you don't do anything, she does a fairly decent job of handling the garden herself. after a few afternoons of standing over her to supervise as she weeded to make sure she didn't pull any of your crops on accident, she made a little custom set up for you in the garden: a big sun umbrella covering a reclining lawn chair, a battery-powered fan, ice-cold pitcher of water, and big bowl of sunflower seeds waiting for you each afternoon.

it's become your favorite part of the day: lounging and snacking and chatting with your wife while she learns more about the garden, one of your hands on your growing belly, the other reaching out to pull sevika down for a kiss every ten minutes.

the cats start becoming really protective of you. a few of the older mother goats do too-- recognizing that you're pregnant. you never have a moment to yourself once you start showing, there's always a cat or two standing on guard to make sure you're okay while you wander around your home.

what you used to call 'the cats room' is now your baby's. all the cat trees, beds, and toys have migrated to the basement to make room for a bunch of furniture sevika hand-made.

a crib that can transform into a kids' bed when the kid gets older, a dresser that can last a lifetime, a rocking chair and stool for you to nurse in, and a gorgeous bookshelf for you to fill with toys and books for your baby. sevika made it all in at her little woodworking station in the storage shed by the goat's pen. each piece of furniture is inscribed with a message that makes you sob each time you see it, a simple, sweet, 'for our sweet baby.'

you know that once the baby comes, it'll be a few years before you and sevika can fully adjust and get back to growing all your own food. so, you guys start stocking up on produce and meat-slabs from local farms nearby.

you don't make it to the hospital when the baby comes. you planned to deliver in the hospital, you wanted a fucking epidural, but your baby came out of nowhere a week early.

one minute you were laughing at sevika struggling to prune the watermelon vines, the next minute your water was breaking and you were going into labor right on the reclining chair you'd spent a majority of your pregnancy on.

it doesn't take long to realize that you're not going to make it to the hospital. you know something's wrong when you try to stand.

"sevika!" you gasp. she's staring at you like a deer in headlights as she holds you up.

"what, honey, what's wrong?"

"fuck, baby, i think it's coming now." you whine.

sevika sits you back down on the chair, helps you get your bottom half naked, then looks between your legs.

"is it bad?" you start to cry, the pain and adrenaline needing an escape.

sevika's panicked, you can see it in her eyes, but she doesn't let it show as she speaks. "it's exactly what it's supposed to be, baby. but i think you're right. i think you gotta push."

you start to freak out. "sevika! we can't have our baby here! it's the garden, there's dirt everywhere! we don't even have clean towels and fuck!" you growl as a contraction overtakes you. sevika's pressing kisses to your knuckles as you grip her hands. "sevika, you're not a doctor!" you cry.

she chuckles, reaches up to kiss your head, and then kneels between your legs again.

"i delivered the goats when marnie got pregnant a few years ago." she tries.

"i'm not a fucking goat!" you scream.

and then--

little tiny cries fill the garden, and all your pain washes away. sevika looks up from between your legs, grinning and sobbing, and then she stands.

and wiggling and screaming in her arms, umbliical cord still attatched, is your little fucker.

"it's a girl." she whispers, leaning down to pass the baby to you.

you take a shaky breath, and then burst into tears upon seeing your baby. she looks just like sevika. it's uncanny. "she's so fucking beautiful." you cry.

sevika wraps your baby up in her shirt, cuts the cord with the gardening shears, and throws your placenta right on top of the compost pile before she starts guiding the two of you toward the car to take you to the hospital.

you have to keep reminding her to drive-- she'll pull up to a red light and get distracted looking at you and your baby in your arms in the passenger's seat. you get honked at a few times, but you don't mind.

not when she's looking at you like that and you've got her baby in your arms.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @vikasub @glass-apothecary @m0numents @macaroni676 @vixel352

[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!💗

[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.

[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.

[mgarmagedon]

Okay my Transformers Earthspark season 2B review!!!

There will be spoilers, skip it if you don't want any spoilers

I won't repeat myself about topics I already talked about like Hashtag, plot holes, graphics that give me nightmares, etc.

So... you can be surprised but most of the episodes weren't making me instantly mad! Ik, ik, it's shocking, but yeah, main cause of it is Prowl! Like every episode that he was in was entertaining enough to foucs me on what was happening and not make me think about all the fucking filler and waste of potential is happening in background XDD

But before we go to this part, let's start from the beginning! 3 first ep of this part of a season were just straight up fucking filler. Like those eps were so boring and unimportant that while i was writing a review of it on my instagram yesterday I needed to rewatch first episode, because I forgot what was happening there XDDD like omg every ep before Prowl showed up was so useless and waste of time!!! Like they could use it for like idk STARSCREAM DEVELOPMENT WHICH THEY STARTED IN SEASON 1, RUINED IN THE BEGINNING OF THE SECOND AND DID NOTHING LATER WITH IT

But lets go to the fun part uwu which is ep where Prowl shows up, like he and Megatron are holding this fucking shit show on their shoulders every scene they are in XD

Like Prowl is such a funny racist bitch, I'm kinda sad that they forgot that Tarantulus exist and never do something with him and Prowl, like that would be so cool if Prowl was anti hero, not a villain... but him being funny racist learning that he should respect other ppl is ig cool???

I still fucking can't believe that his figure is repainted cyberverse Roddi

And second is Megan, which is serving (not in design way), every scene that she shows up in is just melting my heart, because he is such a cute grandpa for Twitch (he is not her fucking father figure, he is elder man which is taking care of youngling, which means he is grandpa for hair >:(((()

I can only put one video in the post so I only show you this, but like OMG he is stealing the fucking show, every fucking scene he calls her 'little bird' one child rids off the daddy issue

But let's come back to rest of the stuff, which means: too many fucking characters.

Like there is so much characters that they have almost 0 time do develop or even talk, like yet Grimlock showed up only in zombie ep for longer than 10 seconds in season overall, and doesn't even talk XDD

Or Starscream situation, like for sure focusing on terrans having troubles with Robby's alien date was more important than Screamer reliving the trauma of being left by everyone and getting crazy to the point he is talking to corpses... IT'S NOT IMPORTANT AT ALL

And I don't even wanna know what they will do with this giant bitch which they woke up in the end...

ANYWAY Season 2B is getting 5/10 score, which is the highest for Earthspark yet!

It's like buying from the Shein, you think it looks cute and cool, but turns to dust while you put it on your ass.

Ah and this one pic I made a while ago is still really valid

Ah and Izzy is bad villain like bad not in evil way just bad

[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

[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

[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'