#what the fuck is wrong with them i can't look away

[tame-the-lion-writes]

feral omega reader x konig

Yes, yes, feral omega reader x 141 is adorable and wholesome and riddled with chaos, but imagine if she ever met Konig. I can't explain a situation in which 141 and KorTac would ever be close enough to share a base because I have no idea how the military and merc companies work BUT-- imagine it. Imagine feral reader being an absolutely darling with Konig just because.

Now feral reader is hostile with pretty much everyone. We've established that. Someone looks at her wrong? It's on sight. No questions asked. 141 practically keeps her on a leash, or at least has to wrestle her into their arms so she doesn't tear someone's ear off. So when Konig appears, and he even towers over Ghost, they're just really fucking confused as to why she's suddenly all big doe eyes and quiet curiosity.

Unlike Soap or Kyle, Konig doesn't seem like he's actively trying to befriend her. And unlike Price or Ghost, he doesn't invade her space so she gets used to his presence. He kinda just exists, and for some unknown reason, that's enough? Like what the hecc?? What was 141 doing wrong???

Because you're slinking over to Konig to steal his food, or pressing your full weight onto his shoulders so you can stare at the book he's reading. Nuzzling your way into his mask so it's stained with your scent, and you're stained with his in return. One time, they even catch you sitting pretty in his lap like an obedient little kitty. And Konig's just petting you, scratching the top of your head like it's a casual Tuesday morning. Like you didn't just try to poke out someone's eye just minutes before.

Soap and Kyle have taken it upon themselves to spy on you two, because you're pack, and he isn't. Because you're theirs, not his. Ghost tries to act nonchalant about it, but he's equally disgruntled--just in a quieter, subtler way. And by subtle, I mean being the one to pick you up by the waist out of Konig's lap, haul you over his shoulder, and say it's time to take a nap.

Price is the only one who actually asks Konig anything, though. So he learns pretty much right away how you've managed to become so tame.

"Slow blink," Konig answers, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

"Slow blink?"

"Ja. I make friend with stray cat. Kätzchen is same. Slow blink."

_

Bonus Thoughts:

Konig brings over a few cats one day to show 'em how it's done. Crouches down, slow blinks at the cats, slow blinks at you. And now you're the one slow blinking at the cats. So now you have fur babies! (One for each of your alphas!) And you will fight Laswell if she tells you that you can't keep them.

Once Konig has to leave, though, you're a fucking mess. Crying, sobbing, clinging to his arm while Soap is trying--and failing--to hold you back.

"Bonnie, please! Let! Go!"

DISTRESSED YOWLING INTENSIFIES.

[mrsshabana]

Okay I’ve got an idea for you

Soulmate Tattoo AU but Gyutaro never had one as a human and it only develops some time after he became a demon.

𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐮 ♡ 𝐆𝐲𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

꒰୨୧ ・Content Gyutaro x female!reader, canon-ish, soulmate au, fluff, angst ꒰୨୧ ・Note I've been meaning to answer this ask for so long! Honestly I wish I could write an entire fic about this but I had to stop myself. I've always wanted to write for a soulmate au so if you want to see more don't hesitate to ask! ♡ (Also I've never written for a soulmate au before so I'm sorry if I did it wrong)

It all happened so fast.

Just a moment ago you were walking home from the night market. And now you find yourself pinned to the ground in a dark alleyway fighting for your life. Some monster grabbing at you, trying to make you his next meal.

He's unlike anything you've ever seen before, but it doesn't take long for you to deduce that he's a demon. You've only heard people tell stories of them, but you never would have imagined they were real.

His large hand wraps around your mouth so you can't scream.

"Pathetic," he snarls, "Just going to let me kill you without putting up a fight?"

You try to kick and scream but you're powerless against him. His lips curl into a sadistic smile. A deep, hyena-like laugh comes from his throat.

"You're so disgraceful, I almost feel bad for you!"

For a split second, he's too busy antagonizing you to notice that you're wiggling out of his grasp. "Fuck you!" you hiss, kicking his groin and desperately crawling away.

Immediately the demon hunches over and groans in pain, "You... bitch..."

Unfortunately, the blow doesn't do as much damage as it would a human, and he's recovered quicker than you expected. You were only able to get a few feet away before he grabbed your ankle.

"You'll pay for th-" he stops mid-sentence and stares at the spot above your ankle.

An intricate pattern lies there, one that you were born with. It looks like a random splotch of ink at first glance, but when you look closer it resembles the shape of a heart.

The demon gulps audibly, suddenly the entire aura around him shifting. Without an explanation, he gets on one knee and pulls up the hem of his pants to reveal a mark that looks identical to yours.

"You... You're my soulmate," you whisper in disbelief.

The demon's hand begins to tremble as he keeps a firm grip on your ankle. "It-it can't be..."

"P-Please, maybe we-"

"Shut it!" he snaps, his teeth getting dangerously close to your face, "I don't care who you are! You're gonna be my next meal!"

He pulls out a weapon you didn't notice he had. It looks strange, like something you've never seen before.

With a look of amusement on his face, he swipes the blade of the weapon across your throat.

But nothing happens.

"...what?" he frowns and presses the blade harder against your neck. But it won't cut your skin.

It really must be true then. This demon is your soulmate, and lucky for you soulmates can't bring harm to each other.

You always heard about soulmate tattoos and how you were destined to find that special person one day. But a demon? Really? Sure, he's pretty cute but he's still a demon!

However, you're honestly just happy to be alive. At least now you don't have to worry about the demon that lurks around the entertainment district making you his dinner.

Meanwhile, your soulmate stares at you with wide eyes, hurriedly stepping away from you as if he's disgusted by you.

"Wait! Please don't go," you reach out to him, "Maybe we can work something out..."

"Tsk, I want nothing to do with you. I don't need a soulmate," he snarls, looking you up and down one last time before disappearing into the night.

You stay in that spot longer than you should, hoping he would return.

Of course, you know that demons are dangerous, but a part of you can't help but feel some kind of unconditional love for him. He is your soulmate after all.

But after some time passes you give up on love. The demon never comes back so you figure there's no point in even trying to find love in the future. If your destined soulmate doesn't even want you, then why would anyone else?

As weeks pass you go on with your life and try to forget about the demon. You're pretty sure he's long forgotten about you, but you couldn't be further from the truth. He's just been really good at hiding it.

Gyutaro hasn't been able to stop thinking about you ever since that night.

He went his entire life convinced that he was unloveable. But then suddenly this gorgeous human shows up on a silver platter just for him. It was a lot to process in the moment, but as time passed he couldn't help but sprout feelings for you. Especially after he stalked you and got to see how cute you are.

It started with him following your scent around the district, finding out where you lived, stealing your mail to get all of your personal information, and then breaking into your home while you slept.

Sure, maybe it's a bit creepy and weird but he's a demon! He has no morals at this point.

When he was a human, soulmates were the least of his worries. He was too busy scrounging for food and trying to survive to care. There were plenty of marks on his body, but none of them were the mark of a soulmate. The one on his ankle only appeared years after he became a demon. But honestly, the thought that this mark was actually the mark of a soulmate never crossed his mind. He always believed that a soulmate was never in the cards for him.

Normally he would never catch feelings for anyone, let alone a human. But when he met you it was like a switch flipped inside of him and he couldn't help but feel drawn to you.

And now, as he spends more and more time around you he begins to get careless. His feelings start to get stronger and overpower his rational thoughts. This whole time he's told himself that he'll never let you see him and he'll always just admire you when you're asleep. But the urge to touch you starts to get too strong. Oh, what he wouldn't give to feel your skin under his fingertips. To just hold you in his arms if only for a few seconds.

As he stands above your bed, looking down at you as you sleep blissfully unaware, he can't stop himself from crawling into your bed with you. It's like his body moves on its own, all of his anxious and self-hating thoughts get momentarily pushed aside. And all he can think about is you, and how right this feels.

You feel large, firm arms wrap around you - slowly waking you from your slumber. Typically someone would feel terrified to wake up suddenly in the embrace of a stranger. But you already know who this is. Your body knew it was your soulmate before you even opened your eyes.

After all of these weeks, you tried to forget about him but you never could. Ever since that first night you met him you felt like a part of you was missing. And he felt it too.

But now you feel complete with him by your side. And for the first time in his life, he doesn't hate himself. He doesn't feel like a disgusting, ugly, disgraceful waste of space.

He feels loved.

[222col]

second best | part two

★ patrick zweig x reader ★ you're after revenge, wanting to give patrick a taste of his own medicine, the question is, how long will it last? ★ 5.3k ★ 18+ | cw: smut: unprotected sex, choking, spanking ★ an: part one | take a shot every time u see the word thwaccckkkk

"you gonna win for me tomorrow?" patrick mumbles against your skin, his lips against your neck, arms around your waist as his hips buck up into you. you'd made it to the final of the tournament, your first final of a slam, in only your second pro season. biting down on his earlobe, legs wrapped around his waist, groaning into his ear. "yeah? gonna be a good girl and win for me?" he repeats, causing another moan from you. "you're so beautiful when you play, can't wait to watch you." it's as though the only time you and patrick are truly honest with each other is when you're fucking each other, drunk off the sex, too fucked out to play along with any games that exist between you. you can barely form words to respond to patrick, not that you'd need to, he can understand you without them. he mumbles more praise into your ear as he finishes inside you, panting against your skin. "my perfect girl." he whispers, placing open mouth kisses to your shoulder. my perfect girl. you're not even his girl, not really. immediately sliding off him, starting to get dressed as he attempts to pull you back onto the bed with him. "i need to prepare for tomorrow." you mumble, pulling your t-shirt over your head. "why are you being so bitchy these past few days?" he pokes, leaning back on his palms. "you've barely looked at me if i'm not literally inside you." you're biting back your words, holding in your anger that's so close to bubbling over. waiting desperately to chew him out, curse at him, scream every word you can think of at him, but you don't. you simply stand, walk over to the door, and tell him goodbye.

you'd vowed to yourself that your time in new york was the end of your time with patrick, as soon as the us open was over, so were you and him. you'd come to your senses after getting home the night of the quarter finals. you wanted revenge. you wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine, make him sweat. show him what he was doing to you was wrong, that you deserved better than second best. it might be slightly immoral, but patrick had pushed you past limits you didn't know you had. you knew the easy thing would be just telling his girlfriend, but that was almost too easy. you wanted to see him worked up, wanted to see how far he'd go denying his feelings for you. how long he could go before snapping.

6-3. first set. 5-4. second set. you were one game away from lifting the trophy. one game away from your first grand slam title. 40-15. one more point. thwaccckkkk! the ball bounces onto the other side of the net and straight past your opponent, feeling yourself fall to the ground as the crowd erupts. letting a scream fall from your lips, pulling yourself back up to your feet. patrick's the first you see, stood with your team, wide grin plastered on his face as you walk over to shake your opponents hand. after you collect your trophy, doing all your press junkets, you head into the dressing room. seeing patrick sat there, on the bench waiting for you. "congrats, champ." he sits there smirking at you as you drop your bag to the floor. you walk straight over to him, standing between his legs as he wraps his arms around you. "i'm all sweaty, get off." you mumble, despite his grip only tightening. "no, i love it." he grins, his face pushing into your stomach, kissing the fabric that clings to your skin. "so proud of you." he whispers, inhaling your scent as his hands move down to your ass, underneath your skirt, massaging the flesh through your shorts. his face turns up, looking up to you as you stand before him, ripping your tight top off your body. breathing in deeply, before patrick stands, letting you peel his t-shirt from his body. pushing you up against the wall, his lips attaching to yours. his hands roaming your body, pushing your skort down your legs as you move your feet out from the pool of fabric. "let me look after you, winner." he mumbles into your skin of your neck, undoing his jeans and pushing them down his legs.

it's messy, desperate, the speed in which yours and his underwear are thrown behind you. his big hands lifting you up, laying you down on the bench, his legs either side of it. spitting in his hands, wiping it up and down his length. his hands gripping into your hips, pulling them up to meet him as he pushes himself into you. your back arched at the sensation, choking back moans as he fucks himself into you. his signature smirk across his face, seeing you squirm under his touch. his nails digging into your skin, skin slapping against yours. your already weak body losing more energy, letting patrick take complete control of you. "that's my good girl, let me take care of you." he hums, biting his lip, keeping his groans stuck in his throat. his eyes are glued to you, watching yours roll back into your head as he lifts your hips up even higher. "feel so fucking good baby." he mumbles praise, bringing your legs up to rest against his chest. pressing wet kisses to your ankles. your hands gripping the wooden panels of the bench, head flung back as a loud whimper leaves your mouth. "shush," patrick hums, chuckling almost. "you're gonna get us caught, princess." he leans forward, contorting your body as he moves one of his hands over your mouth. your brows are furrowed, looking up into his eyes as he pounds into you harder. your mouth agape under his calloused hand, his fingers tight on your cheekbones. his grip on your hip moves to bring his hand to your cunt, smirking as he watches you squirm once his thumb starts circling your clit. he loves you like this, a whimpering, sweaty mess under his touch. it's his favourite sight in the world, watching you unravel under him. all his over thoughts disappear the second you're alone with him. he'd live in his state if humanly possible.

your body jolts, writhing under his touch as you fall over the line. moans slipping through his fingers as he works you through your high. his head flinging back, shooting his load into you as he feels you clench around him. "holy fuck." he groans, gripping onto your ankles as he lets his cum drip down from you. both whimpering at the loss of sensation as he pulls out of you, letting your legs drop down to your sides. "jesus, that was fucking insane." he mutters, chuckling slightly. "i know." you smile back, walking over to the shower to clean yourself up as he gets dressed. walking back out in a new skort and matching top, zipping up your jacket as you pick up your bags. "that was the last time." you state, lips flatlined as you look to his position by the lockers. patrick's brows furrowing, kicking himself off the metal lockers to strand up straight. "what?" he questions, his mouth slightly agape. shrugging your shoulders as you open the door to the dressing room. "i'm not second best." patrick's speechless, watching you leave. his body slumping down onto the floor, his head flinging back into the lockers with force. "fuck!"

it's a month before you see patrick again, at the next tournament you're both competing at. a stream of unanswered texts flood your phone, along with a collection of drunk voicemails left by him. swept away by the attention winning your first slam, your focus on your tennis for the time being. half way across the world, you check into your hotel, readying yourself for the players mixer being held. walking into the hotel's function room, the hall already awash with players as you strut over to the bar. "will you just fucking talk to me?" you hear the familiar voice in your ear the second he reaches you. "fuck off, patrick." you murmur, before ordering yourself a drink. "you're killing me." he groans, his voice needy. "why won't you reply to any of my texts?" he questions, as you stand by a table, holding your drink in your hands, not looking to him. patrick's following you around like a puppy, desperate for you to just look at him, let alone reply. when you finally do, look at him, his breath catches in his throat. your eyes are soft, despite the rest of your face being utterly unimpressed by him. "i told you. it's over, patrick. leave it alone." you grumble, your words like knives to his chest. "go cry to your girlfriend." you spit, bringing your glass up your lips, looking away from him. "i don't have a girlfriend." he returns, leaning on the table, facing you. he's drinking in every move you make, every time you blink, inhaling your scent after a month away from you.

that was a new development. you bite back any form of reaction to patrick's words, just placing your drink back down on the table. he opens his mouth to speak again but he's cut off by another player entering the conversation. "hey, i'm jack. can I buy you a drink?" he smiles to you, leaning on his elbow to face you. patrick rolls his eyes, watching your body contort to face the voice beckoning you. "she's already got one." patrick mumbles, before you cut him off and nod your head to the brunette on the other side of you. "yeah, i'd like that." patrick grumbles, rolling his eyes as he watches you walk over to the bar, leaning his back on the table, glancing down to your half empty drink left beside him. he thought things would be easier, seeing you again. thought you'd come running back into his arms, especially now he'd dumped his girlfriend. but you don't. you spit at him, crush him more than the month of unanswered texts did. he sighs, picking up the remainder of your drink, downing it all as he watches you laugh and lean into the guy you're with. he spends the night sulking, drinking, watching you. pushing away the people who attempt to talk to him, too focused on watching your interactions. you're hanging onto jack's arm by the end of the night, letting him lead you upstairs, to his room. all patrick can do is watch. watch you slip further away from his grasp, while drowning his sorrows in more alcohol, that he won't be thankful for tomorrow during the first round of press.

patrick's there, always there, wherever you are the whole weekend of press and promo. following you around, just to see you. even if it means seeing you flirt and shower men that aren't him in your attention. he's lost, dumfounded on how to act if you aren't with him. desperate just to hear your velvety voice, see your lips upturn in reaction to his words, not someone else. he's consumed with need, attempting to distract himself with his tennis, not that it's working. he's panting, sweat dripping from his body on the practise courts when you walk out. seeing jack on the other side of you, carrying both sets of racket bags. throwing the ball down onto the floor a few times, breathing in before serving it across the court, met with a nod of approval by his coach. his eyes coast over to you, setting up your things, ready to play against jack. you've replaced him. you're doing everything you used to with patrick, but with another man. you don't need him anymore. it doesn't help patrick's ego that jack's ranking is much higher than his own. patrick attempts to carry on with his training, ignore the distraction of you only two courts away, but he's struggling. "get it together, patrick. c'mon." his coach presses, shouting over instructions as balls keep flying his way. it's almost impossible to concentrate on anything that isn't you. especially when he hears your grunts as you hit the ball over the net. trying to snap himself out of it, out of the very impure thoughts he's thinking. thwaccckkkk! patrick serves the ball with all his frustrations, receiving eyes on him as he does. "not bad, zweig." you half smile to him across the courts. he swears his heart stops beating.

you'd both made it through the round of 32, you're sitting in the recovery pool a couple hours after the match when patrick walks in. you don't notice the door open, only noticing his presence when his smirk forms in front of you, slipping into the small pool, sitting opposite you. "i see you're enjoying the tournament." patrick teases, his arms spread over the edges of the pool. "it's only just started." you return, pulling your legs closer to your body, away from his. "i meant more the company." he pushes, that signature smirk not leaving his lips. he wants to push you, tease you, how you're pushing him. "not that it's any of your business." you scoff, titling your head over to where he sits in the water, trying to read his expression. his hands raise in defence as he sucks on his teeth. "are you gonna be like this with me for the rest of the tour?" his tone becoming more serious as he gulps. his heart rate quickening, realising how close your body is, in such little clothing. he hadn't been alone with you for over a month, his teeth chewing on the inside of his cheek, holding back his urge to reach out and touch you. you don't respond, just rolling your eyes and looking away from him. "tell me you don't want me and i'll leave you alone." the words leave patrick's lips before he can even realise what he's said. his stomach in knots the second he realises what he's proposed, he wouldn't be able to stay away even if you did tell him that. "i don't want you." the words hit his chest before his ears, his gaze on you intense as his bottom lip is moves between his teeth. patrick's brows furrow, just looking at you as his body floods with emotion. "you don't mean that." he chokes out. all you do is stare back at him, your face unreadable as you do. the water splashes onto your chest as patrick abruptly exists the pool, wrapping the towel around his waist as he looks down to you, your eyes lifting to look up to him. your gaze still soft, as it always is with patrick. "whatever." he mumbles, pushing the door open as he scrambles out of the room.

you distract yourself with tennis, or attempt to. lying to yourself that you don't want patrick. that you don't want to run to him, to be with him, to be his. if it wasn't tennis you used as a distraction, it was jack. he knew your head was elsewhere, so was his, so it worked. you were making your way through the tournament, into the round of 16, as was patrick. a lot of eyes obviously on you after winning the us open, your ranking moving up as well as the media circus that followed you. 'new tennis power couple?' was the article you were sent, with pictures of you and jack attached. rolling your eyes as you scrolled mindlessly through the so called news site. laughing about it with jack as you joined up with him for lunch, hearing the whispers around the hall as you sat together. patrick sat alone, pushing around the food on his plate, seeing the updates come out about you and jack. he should have known not to believe it, he knows how the media can be. you're barely even touching jack in the pictures, he doesn't know you like patrick does. but it doesn't stop the pit in his stomach as he watches the two of you together. it's only when he's alone in his hotel room that he texts you, adding another message to the number of texts he'd sent over the course of the month.

patrick: i know i said i'd back off but just tell me it's not true

sighing at notification on your phone, the bright screen lighting up the empty room. you try to fight off the urge to reply, knowing exactly what he's referencing. eventually, your head wins, turning the phone off and going to downstairs to the hotel lobby, your next match wasn't until the day after tomorrow. the read receipt highlighted on patrick's phone as he sits on the chat. throwing the phone across the room after a while of sitting there waiting. after throwing a shirt on his body, he wandered down to the hotel lobby. you're already down there, sat alone with a drink in hand. patrick quietly orders himself a drink and sits down across from you. "please, just talk to me." he sighs, leaning closer to you over the table. "patrick, i-" your defences are down, too tired, too frustrated. "i know i hurt you, okay? i'll never forgive myself for that, but i miss you." he babbles, his hand inching closer towards yours. "i'm so sorry, i want you, okay, just you." he whispers, his words coming out more like sobs than fully formed sentences. you're about to open your mouth to reply, when jack appears in front of you. you'd texted him to meet you down here. looking to patrick before back up to jack, standing up to kiss his lips. it was a low blow, you knew that, but patrick deserved it. he'd ruined your self-respect, you earned your right to serve his karma to him. patrick doesn't say anything, just watches. watches your hands wrap in his hair, watches your body melt against his, watches his heart get ripped out of his chest. you make eye contact with patrick as you push jack away towards the elevators, his face emotionless.

it was fate. horrible, twisted fate that patrick would draw jack in the quarter finals. everyone was backing jack to win, he was on paper the better player. more pragmatic, less chaotic than patrick. but patrick knew he had a point to prove. his eyes immediately found you in the stands at he walks out onto the court, his smirk present as he sets down his things. you're sat with a few of the friends you've made during the tour, barely able to focus on the conversation around you, eyes darting between patrick and jack sitting before you on the court. thwaccckkkk! your nails are half bitten off by the end of the first set, your heart in your chest at the end of the second. 6-2, 6-4. one set each. patrick was playing more erratically than usual, his curls slick to his forehead, sweat dripping down his chin. thwaccckkkk! patrick's eyes dart to you. "game, set, match, zweig." patrick's body slumps to the floor, his arms resting on his knees, catching his breath before walking across the court to shake jack's hand. his eyes dart up to you again, to your empty seat. his eyes search for you, catching a glimpse of you exiting the stands. slumping down onto the floor again, thinking how it didn't mean anything. his win, to you, met nothing.

it's 10pm when you hear the knocking on your hotel door, jumping up from your place on the bed, opening the door to patrick. ready to close the door on him before he barges in. "i fucking won, and you just leave?" his voice already raised, facing you as you close the door. "so what?" you scoff, arms crossed against your chest. "i won, i beat him." his tone angry, his chest already pounding. "i didn't realise you were playing for my attention." your words are sharp, cutting through to him. "of course i fucking was!" patrick shouts, his body only two foot away from your own. "everything i do is to get your attention." his voice still raised. your lips are flat, just staring at him, but eyes still soft. "you are killing me." he almost whispers. "patrick, this was never going to end well, just look at how we started." your voice starts to increase in volume, fed up of this wounded puppy display patrick is showing. "i don't want it to end at all." you're both shouting now, not caring about who can hear through the hotel walls. "this is fucking ridiculous, i'm not your girlfriend, never fucking was." you spit your words out, arms dropping to your sides. "i'm not the only one who was cheating, you know? or did you forget that when you jumped on your high horse?" patrick's words are pointed, his body stepping closer towards you. "yeah, but i actually dumped my boyfriend! for you, patrick!"

he doesn't know how, he doesn't remember telling his body to move, but he definitely doesn't mind that it did. his hands are cupped around your face, his lips smashed into yours. you push yourself off of him, looking into his eyes before immediately crashing your lips back onto his. it's messy, tongues slipping over each others, your hands grabbing at the fabric around his waist. "tell me you want me." patrick mumbles into your mouth, his hands moving to grip at the hairs on your scalp. a grumble falls from you, your tongue pushing further into patrick's mouth before he pulls your head away by your hair. forcing your eyes to look to his, his fist balled around your hair. "tell me you fucking want me." you want to punch the smirk off his face, your breath heavy as you stare into his half-lidded eyes. "i want you." he pulls your head back further. "tell me again." your mouth agape, a quiet whimper escaping you. "i want you." you moan out, his grip loosening as his lips attach to yours again, only parting to pull your t-shirt over your head. "good girl." he whispers, as your fingers pull his shirt off his body. it's moments before patrick reaches down, hooking your thighs under his grip, lifting you up and walking over to the bed. his lips only detaching from yours when he throws your body down onto the mattress. patrick's eyes are dark as he crawls over your body, his lips kissing up from your stomach before he reaches your neck. propped up on your elbows as his mouth nips and sucks at the base of your neck, quiet hums of pleasure from you rush to his ears like it's the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard. "missed your skin." he mumbles against your jaw, wrapping his lips around your earlobe. "shut up." you groan, your head angling to expose more of your neck to him.

"oh, you wanna be a little brat do you?" his evil smirk shows again, fingers digging into the sides of your wrists as he pins them up above your head. he manoeuvres to capture your wrists with one of his hands as the other pushes your shorts down to your knees, slipping his hand into your panties, groaning as he feels your wetness. using his knee to push your legs apart, your shorts bunching at your ankles as you free your feet from the pool of fabric. "so wet for me already." he teases, his fingers sliding through your folds as he starts circling your clit. patrick's mouth sucking on the skin of your collarbone as you struggle trying to free your arms from his grip. all he does is push your wrists further into the mattress, his fingers digging into your skin. his eyes glare into yours as he watches every expression you make, not daring to look away as the pace of his fingers speeds up. "mmm, so close," you mumble, your back arching before patrick rips his fingers away, letting go of your wrists at the same time. "what the fuck." you grumble, a slight pout on your lips, only causing an evil chuckle from patrick. "you don't get to cum until i'm inside you." he smirks, ripping your panties down your legs before standing up to pull his shorts down his legs along with his underwear. "you're so fucking annoying." you continue complaining as patrick crawls over your body again, leaning down to whisper in your ear. "why are you so desperate to fuck me then?"

your mouth opens to reply, words inching out as patrick's hand wraps around your throat. "shut the fuck up." he smirks, his fingers digging into the sides of your neck as you fight for breath. your hand moves to grip as his wrist, watching as patrick lets a glob of spit drip from his mouth down onto your cunt. sitting himself up on his knees, your thighs resting against his as his free hand drifts to rub his cock against you. smearing his spit into your wetness, teasing your entrance as he pushes himself in an inch. your head pushing back into the mattress, eyes fluttering closed as you attempt to ask him for more. "look at me." he orders, his eyes dark and half-lidded as you eventually look to him. "good girl." he groans as he slides himself in fully. patrick finally removes his hand from your throat, moving to squeeze the flesh of your thighs as he fucks you without mercy. his nails cutting into your skin as moans echo around the room, his body falling on top of yours as you clench around him. his forehead pressed against yours, open mouthed kisses pressed to your jaw. your arms wrapped around his body, clawing at his shoulder blades as your legs move to trap his body against yours. sucking bruises onto patrick's neck as his hips smash against yours repeatedly. he groans as he slides out you, flipping your body over and pulling your ass up against him. barely being able to register what's happened by the time his cock slides into you again, scrambling to prop yourself up onto all fours. thwaccckkkk! the sound of his open palm against your ass sends a shiver down your arching spine, as loud moans escape your throat. patrick spanks the flesh of your ass again before grabbing a handful of your hair, pulling your chest up closer to his body. patrick's grunts fill your ears as the hand on your ass reaches below you, his fingers drawing circles against your clit. his teeth nipping at the skin on your shoulder as he pulls you closer, your back flush against his chest. patrick can tell you're close to the edge, feeling the way you clench around him and the volume of your moans getting louder.

"cum for me baby, be a good little girl and cum for me." patrick mumbles against your skin, licking the skin of your neck. his words force you to let go, an almost scream leaving your lips as your body nearly crumbles at the sensation. patrick's grip on your hair keeping you upright, humming into your neck. he lets you ride out your high before pushing your chest down into the mattress, his big hands gripping at the sides of your body under your arms as he fastens his pace. your face near enough buried in the mattress as you turn to try and look up to him behind you, patrick groaning louder as you do. "so fucking pretty like this." he murmurs, nails digging into your flesh as he slams his hips against your ass once more, filling your insides with his load. "jesus fucking christ." patrick groans as his body falls flat on top of you, panting as he places sloppy kisses to your back. feeling his load start to drip down you as he slides out and falls to the side of you.

your bodies are bruised and scratched, staring into each others eyes as you both attempt to return your breathing to a normal pace. patrick leans over, kissing your lips sweetly as you manoeuvre onto your side. "i take it that means you and jack aren't a thing, right? or did you just cheat on another boyfriend?" patrick almost laughs at himself, as you swat his arm. "you're such an asshole." you laugh, shaking your head at him. this is what he'd missed. your laugh, the way you looked at him, you being the only person in the world who could put him in his place. the way you put up with him, how you always knew what to say. moving to brush his curls off his forehead, letting your fingers rest against his cheek, slowly caressing his skin. "i meant what i said, that i just want you." patrick whispers, his hand snaking around your waist, pulling you closer to him. "i know." you smile, your thumb still rubbing back and forth on his face. the silence is comfortable, eyes locked on each other, peaceful. waking up the next morning, it's as though everything has fallen back into place. patrick joins you training, returns to his regular position opposite you on the practise courts. there's no conversations about your relationship, patrick's too scared to ask. too scared to question, he doesn't want to risk pushing you away again.

thwaccckkkk! sitting in the box with patrick's coaches and the rest of his team, watching patrick play in his first final of his professional career. you'd unfortunately been knocked out during the semi-finals, meaning the rest of your time during the tournament was spent helping patrick prepare. you could tell patrick was nervous, despite no one else picking up on it. to the average eye, he was calm, playing as chaotically controlled as usual. sweat was dripping from every inch of his skin, his black tank stuck to his chest as he rolled the racket between his hands. patrick was a set up against his opponent, he'd won six games to four. his eyes glance over to the box, listening to his coach's advice, letting his eyes wander to you as he does. the silence is almost eery, not that he wasn't used to it during matches, but the silence before serves is when he really considers his surroundings. he's in the final, his first final. he's a set up, he could actually win this. you're a wreck, anxiously watching from the stands as patrick wins another game. a smirk rushes onto your face, watching patrick hit a tweener, to win the match. jumping up to your feet with his team as the crowd erupts. it's as though patrick doesn't register it, until he looks at you. his racket drops from his hands, falling onto his knees, letting the wash of emotion rush over him. he shakes his opponent's hand before security bring him through the crowd to his team. engulfed in hugs by his coaches, shouting how proud they are of him before he escapes their grip. moving down to you, his arms wrapping around you as he lifts you up to the air. "i knew you'd win." you giggle into his ear as he places you down onto the ground, his teethy grin not leaving his face. his hands stay wrapped around you as his lips crash into yours, in the middle of the crowd, in front of cameras from every angle. "i can't believe you just did that." you smile, blush creeping onto your cheeks as you feel every set of eyes on you. "what? i can't kiss my girl after winning my first title?" patrick chuckles, hands pulling you flush against him. "oh, your girl, huh?" you laugh, hands snaking around his neck, his lips grazing yours as he speaks. "you know you're mine."

[eclipseslayer]

PRETTY PINK PANTIES

• TOJI FUSHIGURO X F!READER SMUT ONESHOT

• SUMMARY: Toji catches a glimpse of your panties one morning and then gets drunk to take his mind off of it. However, his drunk mind seems to have other plans when he finds himself suddenly in your bedroom.

• CW: DARK CONTENT! Icky!dad!Toji, panty-sniffing, masturbation, incest.

• WC: 1kish

Another night, another drink.

Toji groans as he downs his fourth beer, feeling the weight of the liquid sit in his stomach, making for a rather unpleasant feeling. He scratches his stomach while he feels his head go into a woozy state from all of the alcohol he's consumed.

He grunts.

He wouldn't have to feel this shitty if he didn't drink to get over what he saw earlier today.

The memory keeps playing back in his mind like a broken record, and it makes Toji want to smack his skull against the wall, because he knows he shouldn't think about it, but, fuck, for some reason, he can't help it.

You were leaving early this morning to go to class. Toji was making himself some coffee, when suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he sees you bend over to tie a loose lace on your sneaker, revealing your tight, pink panties beneath your skirt.

Toji quickly whipped his head away the second he laid his eyes on your underwear, not wanting to stare at them a second longer because he knew it was wrong.

But... fuck. Despite it all, he couldn't get those pretty pink panties that hugged your ass so well out of his head.

You're his kid. He can't be thinking like this.

Sure, he's always been kinda a deadbeat due to your mom missing in his life, but he couldn't do this to you.

He gets up from the couch, and, drunkenly, nearly stumbles over the coffee table.

No, he can't. He won't.

His head, clouded with the alcohol, makes the decision for him despite his nagging thoughts, as his mind takes control of his feet and moves them towards your room.

She's my fucking kid... can't do this—

Toji stumbles over his feet again but he catches himself on your doorframe.

Fuck.

He huffs; a heavy breath escapes him while he holds himself on the doorframe, and his eyes scan your room, looking for something that'll remove this weird attraction towards you—anything, especially something that'll gross him out or see you in a new bad light—

Ah, shit.

His eyes widen suddenly when he sees them: pretty pink panties, sitting on the floor of your room, discarded without a thought to the mind.

Toji's heart races in his chest, his throat constricting as if all the air has vanished. He can only manage a shaky exhale, overwhelmed by the sudden rush of fear that seeps into his mind.

What the hell am I doing? Toji wonders to himself, and yet, his feet take him forward again.

Slowly, one foot in front of the other, his feet drag him along, and Toji wants to grasp onto something, anything, maybe hold onto the doorframe to keep himself from sinking into this deep, dark hole, but, the alcohol clouds his restraint, making him lose himself to his deepest, darkest desires as he reaches down and picks up the pretty pink panties.

He swallows thickly as he stares down at the panties in his hands. His heart picks up its' pace again, and he lets out another shaky breath once he feels his cock hardening just from the sheer sight of the panties alone.

He looks around, looking for you, but then suddenly remembers you're still on campus, probably doing a late-night class.

His cock strains against his pants again, as if it's telling Toji to just do it—do what he needs to do and get it over with, so, hesitantly, he listens to his urge. He slowly lifts the panties to his nose and he inhales softly at first, but, once he gets a small whiff, he becomes quickly addicted and so he inhales. He inhales strongly as the fabric of the panties stick to his nostrils, filling his head with the scent of you.

And, God, do you smell good. Your panties smell warm, and ripe, like you had been sweating in them all day. There's even little bleach stains on the lining of the panties where your discharge had been.

Fuck.

If he could get his hands on you right now, he'd be the happiest man alive, burying his face between your thighs to smell and lick your pussy to death, until you'd be cumming all over his tongue, but he can't so his hand begins to grope his own hard dick through the fabric or his pants.

He groans, leaning his head back as he lets out a shaky sigh against the fabric of your panties. He keeps them on his face while his hands move down to slip off his sweatpants where he tugs on the grey hemline, slipping them down until the fall into a pool around his ankles.

He huffs when his eyes dart down to look at his dick poking through his underwear. He should be ashamed that he's this hard after smelling his daughter's underwear, but, he's too far in now to give a fuck.

He tugs his underwear down and lets it fall down around his legs and he sighs when he finally frees his cock from their constricting confines.

He pushes the panties to the side on his face so he can spit into his hand with ease, before bringing his hand back down to his aching cock where he begins to slowly pump himself.

He groans, lowly, as he revels in the smell of your panties. His cock throbs in his hand while he continues to smell deeply, imagining that this was your pussy right here in front of his face.

God, how he wishes it were so. He wishes his tongue was pressed deep into your pussy, tasting the sweat that had leaked from your body during the day. He wishes his lips were wrapped around your clit, sucking on it fervently while you would whine and moan about his good his tongue is. He wishes his fingers were curling inside you, over and over again so he could hear your wet, squelching cunt as it would gush around him.

He'd call you his "good girl" and would kiss your thighs, thanking you for letting him explore your body—which is something he's been wanting to do for what seems like a while now, as he finally admits it to himself.

He just can't help but get hard around you. He doesn't know why, but he does. He knows it's shameful, which is why he turned around so quickly this morning from catching a glimpse from your pretty pink panties.

Nevertheless, he grunts as he continues to pump his cock in his fist.

The pace is slow and lazy at first, as he wants to savor the smell of your pussy on his nose, but then, it grows more desperate, more needy as he imagines different scenarios with you.

Maybe he'll actually be inside of you one day, if he can convince you—as now, he's convinced himself that he wants this—or maybe he'll fuck that pretty mouth of yours and hold onto your hair while doing it.

"Ugh... haa... haa..." Toji moans as his breath starts to get heavy.

His grip tightens around his cock, focusing on the head of it which sends a jolt down his spine. He squeezes it, and lets out another groan, making his body shudder.

He inhales your panties again, and his pumping turns faster. He groans.

It's a constant cycle of sniffing, inhaling, and then pumping at a quicker pace, until Toji feels his balls tighten.

He brings his other hand down and squeezes his balls gently and then—

He cums.

He groans, loudly, and finishes right there in the middle of your room, shooting cum into his fist and some of it leaks onto the floor.

Breathing heavily, he hangs his head while his chest rises up and down, letting the panties fall back onto the floor, where they were.

He huffs, and a low chuckle erupts from him upon looking at the scene on the floor and his hand, as post-nut clarity finally hits him.

"Ah, fuck. What the hell have I done?"

[sevsbestfriend]

I usually write fics here but I just wanna rant rn.

Sometimes I got to old posts and stuff, either to get new ideas or just see what the fuck is going on with the other side of the fandom.

The people coming to James defense or crazy, like on one hand they are like 'oh he was only human, he grew as a person otherwise how would lily love him?'

We literally have cannon confirmation that the fucking prat didn't stop hexing people, he just learned to hide it better. Sirius and Remus confirmed this when they called Severus a 'special case'. I don't give a shit about them saying he attacked first, you better believe I am attacking first if I come across a guy who has stripped me naked in public when I didn't do shit to him. (Or the other guy who tried to get me killed by bloody werewolf) Like wtf are you even talking about at that point???

Also, Harry comes across a detention report of them hexing another student in their 7th year. So uhm...yeah.

Then they are like 'oh Severus hates him so his memories are biased'

Did you morons even read the books?? Pensive memories are unbiased, any manipulation is extremely apparent as we saw in Slughorns case. So NO they aren't biased that extremely uncomfortable read of SWM? it's fucking canon in its truest sense.

Also, how in the ever living hippogryph does a guy who strips people naked for fun change so much that he becomes head boy??

It's pretty simple, he doesn't. He learns to hide it better and given the fact that this person has always been given the benefit of the doubt, it is very easy for them to their nature.

Dude had a map that showed him everyone's real time location and an invisibility cloak, he could damn well harass anyone in isolated corners of the castle if he wished. Which is exactly what he did.

Also, these people love to claim how 'lily only approved of him cause he changed.'

To that I say, Who the fuck is Lily?? Mother Teresa??

How is she the ultimate decider of what is good and bad and at the same time, completely right in dating someone who stripped another student makes after a year (or 2) of the event??

Don't get me wrong, she doesn't owe Severus anything, really, but seriously this is just ridiculous. Like if I was a woman, I would be genuinely terrified of someone like that, especially when they got away with no real consequences what so ever.

James was a prick with a very good PR team for friends and teachers. That's really it, it is often said that good looking people can get away with a lot of things and James is just a prime example of that.

---_---_---_---_---_---_---_---_

Also...BRAVE?? Dude had 2 cheat items and the advantage of a Pureblood upbringing and was still too PUSSY to face Severus alone. Yeah..what a real Gryphindor that one. Scrams bravery to you doesn't it? He did this all the way till 17, so yeah he definitely was super important in the order right??

---_---_---_---_---_---_---_---_---_

Dumbledore invested quite a bit in the Marauders with his blatant favoritism and letting a werewolf in the school risking his own position as a headmaster.

And...they all turned to be bloody useless. With only James being useful because of his participation in the birth of Harry Potter.

Sirius in his madness derailed a murder investigation for a fucking decade.

Remus, I genuinely can't remember anything substantial Remus did, except for letting someone he believed was a murderer into Hogwarts and never telling Dumbledore that they were Animagus to begin with.

---_---_--_---_

Seriously, the most useful person in the war had to literally beg on his knees for the man to use him. Even fate was like, for fucks sake, just give this guy a chance already.

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

Hiii!!! Love thy works!

If it's alright with you, may I please request Regina George x Reader?

Scenario: Every day, the reader comes to school with all sorts of bruises and injuries. Like, every single day. That's when, Regina finds out that the reader is part of an underground fight club to pay for their sickly mother's treatment because the reader is very poor.

Always Hurt

|| Regina George x nonbinary!reader

|| Warnings; swearing, little agnsty, reader's mother is sick, injured reader, short fic

|| Summary; reader was always hurt when they came to school. Always. Regina finally has enough and decides to ask them about it.

Requests open!

Started; September 19th

Finished; September 19th

~~~

Regina was sick of seeing you with some new injury every day. Every time she laid eyes on you there would be some new bandage wrap added to your body. Today was her final straw when she saw the stitch just above your eye.

She walked right over to your locker, crowds splitting so she could get through. Regina cleared her throat to get your attention as her arms folded across her chest," What the actual fuck?"

You immediately froze. A million different scenarios ran through your head as you looked at your girlfriend, seeing the intense gaze she had on you. No, not on you. Well yes on you but focused on something just above your eyes. Then you remembered your stitches. Great...

"Regina-"

"I need names, Y/N." Her tone was just as demanding as that look in her eyes. You swallowed.

"Names..?"

"Who's been doing this to you?" She gestured to all of you. Which made you sigh.

"Technically, me." You stated as you pulled out your text book, then paused when you saw the startled look on your girlfriend's face and realized how that must have sounded," No, no. God. That came out wrong. I mean. I signed up for a fight clu-"

The words weren't even out of your mouth when Regina spoke," I'm sorry, what? FIGHT CLUB? ARE YOU ABSOLUTELY-"

This time you cut her off, cupping your hand to her mouth as you dragged her to the closest bathroom. She bit your hand which made you flinch and let go, shaking your hand slightly.

"Ow."

"Deserved." Regina scoffed," I can't believe how absolutely moronic you are. Joining a fight club? I can't express this enough, what the HELL?"

You grimaced as she raised her voice and tried arguing your side, but she just cut you off again.

"You better have a damn good reason, Y/N because I swear-"

"It's for my mom!" You kind of just blurted it out. Trying to let yourself be heard over Regina's rant.

Regina paused as she heard you and studied your expression, you looked like you were on the verge of tears. Which made her reel in just a little. She could tell you weren't lying to her.

"It's for my mom..." You repeated, your voice almost a whispered murmur now," she hasn't been doing great and this was the only job I could get that would actually pay what I need for her recovery and I-"

"Your mom's sick?" Regina asked, you nodded.

"She has been for a while."

Regina sighed and flicked your forehead, you swatted her hand away," You're still moronic. You could have come to me. I spend probably what you need on shoes alone." She rolled her eyes, arms back across her chest," my parents wouldn't notice if it was missing."

"You'd do that..?" You just stared at her. Trying your best not to cry.

"Well it's either that or watch you get your stupid ass beat. What do you think I'm picking, dumbass?"

You laughed a little, despite it all. Then pulled Regina into a tight hug, one that she was about to pull away from until she heard your sobs. She grumbled and gave your back a pat. Not being the best at comforting.

"Three, two..." She then started counting once the hug went on a little too long for her public comfort, you quickly let go. Understanding her boundary.

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it." She started walking out of the bathroom, with you following. She looked back at you," Seriously. Don't."

"Scared people will think you're soft?" You gave her a playful nudge.

"You're fucking stupid." She muttered.

"I love you too." You gave her forehead a kiss and she pushed you away from her, which made you laugh.

She really tries to act like she doesn't care.

[writtenjewels]

Maternity Ward part 4

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

Salim found his thoughts drifting to the Kolcheks. Specifically his new friend Jason. He liked being friendly with the couples he worked with, but this felt different somehow. He didn't think he ever connected with someone so quickly. It made him worry a little that he was toeing the line of professionalism. He certainly never spent so much time before thinking of jokes to tell other expectant fathers. But surely putting Jason at ease wasn't a bad thing, and truthfully, it'd been fun to exchange in teasing banter with the man.

The next time he entered the room, he found Penny in the middle of a contraction. Jason was coaching her through it, holding her hand and counting out her breaths for her. Salim watched without interruption, curious to see how Jason handled this. By now the panic stage had likely passed, but it was still impressive how Jason calmly but firmly talked Penny through it.

“You did great,” Jason told her when it was over. “You only said 'fuck' fifty times.”

“I'm savin' those for when I gotta start pushing,” Penny retorted with a laugh.

“Can't wait.”

“May I come in?” Salim asked. Penny looked up and Jason turned. Jason's face lit up in a smile, his eyes brightening. Salim smiled back before turning his attention on Penny. “Let me check on how you're doing.”

“Glad to see ya, Doc,” she smiled. “Jason and I have a bet goin' and we need a neutral party.”

“Oh?” Almost subconsciously, his eyes flicked over to Jason.

“We're bettin' what song's gonna play on the radio,” he explained. “I'm bettin' somethin' from the 80's on and Penny's got from the 50's to the 70's.”

“What if it's classical?” Salim asked teasingly.

“Then we tuned into the wrong fuckin' station.” Jason said it so matter-of-factly that Salim laughed. Jason smirked back at him and turned on the radio. Salim recognized the song after a few notes. “Hah.” Jason pumped a fist. “Fuckin' 1980's!”

“It's the 70's!” Penny argued. “Help me out here, Doc.” He felt both of them staring at him, waiting on a verdict.

“1979. Still technically the 70's. You were close.” He directed this to Jason. Instead of looking upset, Jason just gaped at him.

“How the fuck do you know that?”

“I like music.” Silence fell in the room with only the music to fill it. “I should get back to my rounds,” Salim announced. “I'll check on you later.”

“Hang on,” Penny protested. “Take Jason outta here so he can get me more snacks.” Jason shot her a look Salim didn't understand. With a grunt, Jason stepped out into the hall with Salim.

“You went through all those snacks already?” Salim asked him.

“She ate most of 'em.” The two started down the hall. “So,” Jason spoke up. “You like music?”

“Music kept me sane during medical school. I listened to it while I studied. I still listen to it whenever I need to relax, or feel energized, depending on the genre.”

“Me and Penn listened to a lot of music growin' up,” Jason remarked. “It's why I thought up the bet; thought it would help distract her.”

“It was a good idea.” Salim eyed him curiously. “You grew up together?”

Jason's lips quirked up in amusement. “Since the day I was born.”

Salim couldn't find the words. It was obvious now that he thought about it. The way they talked to each other, the similarities in the face and hair, why Jason always shied away whenever Salim examined Penny. Brother and sister. Salim felt like an idiot for not seeing it. They continued on to get snacks, his mind working through the information.

She's just his sister. The thought made him happy, but also strangely nervous.

[expectopatronum18]

Hot take on Lily's characterization in this fandom

Ik I've written abt this before but I really cannot understand y this fandom insists on limiting lily's characterization to being good and right all the time and making the narrative sympathetic towards her even when she isn't coz ppl don't want haters for her. And this makes sense coming from the new marauders fandom coz they see all of their favs as incapable of being wrong. But I can't understand y the traditional marauders fandom acts this way too coz they tout themselves as being oh so progressive, but they write lily exactly the way rowling wrote her but in a different sense

Rowling wrote all the women in the franchise with the lens of what she sees as an 'ideal woman', but imo lily gets hit by this the most. She exists to further the narratives of other, more important characters, everything we ever hear abt her r positive attributes (harry goes thru tht phase in ootp where he realizes tht his father whom he looked up to so much was a flawed person, for whatever reason his mother is exempted from this), and the highlight of her life was dying for her son(despite the fact tht james did the same and we do know quite a bit abt him).

The conventional view of women has progressed beyond this now, but i d argue tht the underlying issue hasn't been resolved. I get tht fandom is a space for relaxation and fun, but then y do ppl hv a problem with lily being a tad bit flawed in a bad way when the boys r literally out there murdering each other and becoming fascists? The fandom sees her with the modern lens of what an ideal woman is(intentionally or unintentionally)- she's a perfect sjw who starts off with all the right values and has nothing to learn and grow from- she's an ideal feminist, she's always understanding, sympathetic and accepting, she accepts remus instantly, she's the moral voice in the marauders vs snape debate, she always stands up for the underdog, she doesn't let societal prejudices influence her views and waver her morals, etc etc. And while these r undoubtedly very fine qualities to hv, thts not how things work. Ur not being progressive by writing a woman who has no growing and learning to do like a normal person, and who's never allowed to be wrong in a way tht hurts others without making her sympathetic

Let lily be a catty bitch in a way tht can be interpreted as 'cheeky and vivacious' from an outsider's pov. Let lily not hv any proper female friends because she was a popular, well liked girl in high school who wasn't really a girl's girl. Let her be hated by ppl for reasons outside being a muggleborn and being friends with snape. Let her be friendless coz she's just a bad friend, she literally almost smiled when her best friend was being assaulted. Let her be homophobic coz it was the 70s and her social circle consisted of ppl lyk teenage snape and petunia. Let her not be accepting of remus immediately coz the whole ww was prejudiced against werewolves and she's new to it. There r infinite possibilities and none of them need to take away her good aspects in canon, much lyk they don't with the boys

LET HER BE FLAWED AND COMPLICATED AND CONTRAVESIAL COZ WHO CARES, SHE'S NOT FUCKING REAL

[lestappenforever]

hey mona how are you feeling? how did the surgery go? <3

Hello, anon! You're so sweet for asking, and my apologies for the slightly delayed response here! Yesterday became a bit more stressful than I had hoped for. 😅

Putting this under a 'Read more' just so people who don't want to read about stuff like this can avoid it. TW: Mentions of blood.

I'm feeling pretty well! No pain or discomfort yet, so that's good. A little bit tired due to the blood loss and the overall stress of last night, but overall I'm feeling good.

The surgery itself went really well! It took a bit longer than anticipated as the surgery was performed by a surgeon in training, so there was a lot of consulting with the attending surgeon and double checking everything that was being done. But, the surgeon in training, the attending surgeon and the nurse who was there to look after me were all so incredibly sweet! They talked me through everything they were doing, explained every step and what to expect, and they were so generous with the anesthesia that I didn't feel any pain or discomfort during the procedure itself. And the nurse did an amazing job at keeping me distracted while the surgeon was burning away the affected parts of my cervix.

Due to how I started bleeding immensely a few days after my biopsy in June, they gave me prescription for pills with tranexamic acid to stop bleeding from organs and advised me to start taking them after the surgery, which I did. They also put like 3 meters of gauze up there that I had to leave in for four hours.

But, when I removed the gauze as instructed four hours later, I started bleeding a lot. Much, much more than I did after my biopsy, and I was honestly pretty terrified. So I called the hospital, they told me to come back and I did, which was good because it turns out a blood vessel had ruptured that was causing the bleeding, and it wouldn't have stopped on its own. (And the pills can't stop bleeding from a ruptured blood vessel.)

The sweetest gynecologist checked me out and discovered the ruptured blood vessel, and put in two stitches to close it. That bleeding stopped right away when he did, and that was that. I'm not gonna lie, that was quite painful at times, but it was also necessary. So I'm very happy that I called the hospital and was asked to come in, and now I feel completely fine!

And as stressful and scary as yesterday ended up being, it's a million times better than not doing any of it at all. I'd get a thousand stitches and go through a hundred procedures to remove parts of my cervix as long as that results in a seriously reduced risk of at some point developing ovarian cancer.

So moral of the story: Don't skip your Pap smears, take your health seriously, and listen to your body when it's telling you something is wrong because, most likely, you'll be right. Don't fuck around and find out with your health, please. ❤️

[bullet-prooflove]

The 'Oh Dear This Got A Little Filthy' Prompt List

Please check the updated character list on my pinned post to see who I am writing for before submitting a prompt!

Also read the rules and do not forget to put the entire prompt into your ask!

I heard you're back together and if that's true, You'll just have to taste me when he's kissin' you

I write my name with lipstick on your chest

You wanna guess the color of my underwear, Is it pretty in pink or all see-through?

I said I would die for you, baby

I leave a mark so you know I'm the best

Treat me the way I like Don't you take your time

You wanna put 'em in your mouth, pull 'em all down south

He pins you down on the carpet, Makes paintings with his tongue 

You sold me lies just by the way you look

Come right on me,

I was in a sheer dress the day that we met

Every time you close your eyes And feel his lips, you're feelin' mine

I dug my grave watching the way you move

Drowning in the words that I wish we never said

Who's the cute boy with the white jacket and the thick accent?

There's so many things I'm tempted by But you bring me back to the light

You can have him if you like I've been there, done that once or twice

And keep me stuck in your mind Baby, rain or shine

Visions of her naked in my head

How you're lookin' at me, yeah, I know what that means

I thought I was about to be a father

No more thinking about you late night

Losing all my innocence in the backseat

Try it, bite it, lick it, spit it, Pull it to the side and get all up in it

I don't want to lose you, baby But I can't play this game no more

Yeah, I know I've been known to share

I know it's so wrong, but it feels so right

It's that lacy black pair with the little bows The ones I picked out for you in Tokyo

How you talk so sweet when you're doin' bad things

Somewhere deep in you Somewhere deep in me, Oh, there's still two lovers

'Cause no one's more amazin' At turnin' lovin' into hatred

I saw them when you sat down, they were peekin' out I'm gonna tell you right now, they're all I'm thinkin' about

And I hope that you're so damn sure that leaving me was right

Fog up the windows in the parking lot

Done picking up pieces of my soul up off the floor

Therе's a hole in my chest 'Cause the day that you left Was the day that I died

Baby, I'm just a man

But tonight I save my life when I showed you the door

And there ain't always blood in a fight

I won't give a fuck about you

You tried to take away my sanity Baby, that ain't for me

Want you every second, don't need other guys

How you pick me up, pull 'em down, turn me 'round 

I need to know if you're okay I wanna know, I need to know if you're okay

Drink all night till I can't walk in a straight line

I'm right there where you left me Standing in the kitchen

There's a war up against my heart and head

You do somethin' sus, kiss my cute ass bye

Oh, I remember how you were You were every shade of perfect

[lucky-clover-gazette]

damen & laurent's soldiers need worker's compensation for dealing with their angsty petty gay bullshit. i present the following evidence:

exhibit a:

He had put those soldiers on the door to bar the way to those men seeking Laurent out for some trivial matter, or for any matter, because when Laurent wanted to be alone, no one should suffer the consequences of interrupting him.  The taller soldier addressed him. ‘Commander, no one has entered in your absence.’ Damen’s eyes passed over the doors again.  ‘Good,’ he said. And he pushed the doors open.

‘Arrest me,’ said Damen. ‘I have raised hands to the Prince.’  The soldiers hesitated. It was the just response to his actions but he was—or had been—their Captain. He had to say again, ‘Do it.’  The darker-haired soldier stepped forward and Damen felt the grip take him. Laurent set his jaw.  ‘No,’ said Laurent. And then, ‘It was provoked.’ 

exhibit b:

A part of Damen’s mind recognised how perfectly this gift had been judged, the exquisite virtuosity of it: Laurent was delivering him a backhanded blow with one hand, and with the other, caressing his generals as a man scratches a dog under the chin.  Damen heard himself say, ‘Vere is generous.’  ‘After all,’ Laurent held his gaze, ‘I remember what you like.’

exhibit c:

He gestured and one of his squires came forward. It was still wrapped in cloth. He felt the sudden tension in Laurent, though there was no outward change.  Damen said, ‘You asked for it, once.’  The squire drew back the cloth to reveal a gold cuff. He felt rather than saw the tightness in Laurent. The cuff, unmistakably, was the twin to the one Damen wore, altered last night by a blacksmith for Laurent’s finer wrist.  Damen said, ‘Wear it for me.’ For a moment he thought Laurent wasn’t going to do it. But in public, Laurent had no recourse to refusal.  Laurent extended his hand. And then waited, palm outstretched, his eyes lifting to meet Damen’s.  Laurent said, ‘Put it on me.’  Every pair of eyes in the tent was on him.

exhibit d (lmao):

‘Who did this to you?’  ‘I did,’ Laurent said.  Damen turned.  Laurent stood in the entryway of the tent. He was arranged with elegant grace and his lazy, blue-eyed attention was all on Nikandros.  Laurent said, ‘I meant to kill him, but my uncle wouldn’t let me.’  Nikandros took an impotent step forward but Damen already had a restraining hand on his arm. Nikandros’s hand had gone to the hilt of his sword. His eyes were on Laurent furiously.  Laurent said, ‘He sucked my cock too.’  Nikandros said, ‘Exalted, I beg permission to challenge the Prince of Vere to a duel of honour for the insult that he has done to you.’  ‘Denied,’ said Damen. 

[blackswallowtailbutterfly]

Still haven't messaged my mom back. And I don't think I'm going to.

[yeonban]

It's lovely when I read a book and some random paragraph in it hits me in the face like a train at mach speed

[maxmayfieldirl]

The discourse about being able to ship willel takes me back like. Fucking 5 years to the big debate on whether or not you could ship Sal and Larry because they were stepbrothers by episode 4 lmaoooo

[akajustmerry]

everytime someone, usually white, talks about the IOF using major US cultural events as "distractions" to commit more genocidal operations in Palestine, I want to SCREAM. The assumption that the IOF is hanging on the us's every fart to make their moves is US centrism, narcissism at global proportions. the IOF don't need "distractions" they've been murdering, torturing and displacing Palestinians and other Arabs for almost a century with impunity because they KNOW they can get away with it. Because the IOF knows practically no one who can actually stop them gives a fuck about Palestinians and Arabs. The IOF don't need a presidential assassination scandal, a met gala, or any large event to cover for their atrocities because they've been doing them in broad daylight everyday, all day for decades, AND BRAGGING about it. Claiming the IOF is doing anything because some event is providing a "distraction" is a vapid projection of a personal inability to deal with the cognitive dissonance and guilt of bearing witness and experiencing these events simultaneously. Not to mention, it plays into anti-jewish conspiracies of Jewish world domination by insulating connections between major events that are often unconnected. It's okay that you feel scared and confused and overwhelmed, but stop pretending the IOF even cares about Palestinians and Arabs enough to wait for the world to be distracted to kill us. They don't need to. They never have and it's hugely ignorant of at least a century of history, anti-Arab racism, and Zionism to say otherwise.

EDIT: I was wrong making this post. @el-shab-hussein took the time to correct me in their reblog here. But I will also copy and paste their correction here:

They committed some of the most atrocious massacres since the start of the acceleration during and directly after the debates between Trample and Bitchen, with several hundreds confirmed dead by day. It's crazy how much Palestinians have discussed the phenomenon of Israel using major U.S. events as a distraction before the acceleration and we've posted about it on tumblr and I've seen other Palestinians make threads about it on Twitter to compile various instances where U.S. events and other major world events used as distractions (wow! Look an example to back my point: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5). "They don't need distractions" yes they do, that is the very basis of the massive Israeli lobby and hasbara industry. Don't patronize us just because you can't understand how central the U.S. and its apathy is in our genocide. Recognizing the role of American cultural imperialism and its far-reaching consequences is not perpetuating it - what an incredibly lazy way to try to shut us up - it's recognizing who's the lynchpin in the equation here.

[neverendingford]

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