#its such a stupid problem and i should shut up about it but god its bothering me

[johnbleepingzoidberg]

just read the most blatantly sexist comment thread on instagram and i am about to. implode

#im trying to crochet and yet im once again being sucked into reading shitty judgy instagram comment sections #a single hour into 2023 and here we are #sigh #mine #basically it was 'women are meant to be provided for and taken care of and not work and you women just dont want to admit that im right' #like.....dude..... #as though that doesnt read like 'i as a man know what's best for women but women are too stupid to realize men should be in charge' #😐 #how embarrassing #also he was going on about how 'women arent truly happy unless theyre being taken care of by a man and are raising children' #as a woman....... #no.............. #im......im good but thanks for trying man #not that its a bad thing for women to want to be taken care of and not work #it was the generalization and the way the dude was implying he knew how all women thought #god the part about how 'women dont want to admit im right' just absolutely rubbed me the wrong way #the problem is in the fact the man tried to claim he as a man knew what was best for women and women should shut up and comply #sigh. SIGH.

[aturinfortheworse]

.

#i just think that god should replace with me a version of me that is easier to deal with #idk why he doesnt do that #wait #maybe he DID do that #gotta put Ruin 1.0 somewhere. maybe this is where. #no that doesnt hold up. presumes everyone else has no interior experience. #and we can't be having that #so yeah anyway why doesnt god just replace with me with a nearly identical person #who is simply not awful and ridiculous #did they have an excess of bullshit up there? like there was a cupboard they simply could not keep shut any longer? #and they just had to pick a person to put it in? #and if so. why did they pick me? #like im not asking about The Problem of Evil. #im asking about The Problem of Generally Stupid Design #what function does this characterisation serve???????? #im trying not to be egocentric here but the function is to punish me right? #its the only thing i can think of that makes sense #if its meant to be punishing OTHER people then god's playing the long game

[ghouljams]

I got brain rot of Cowboy!König just being so fucking frustrated over his darling sometimes because she’s so sweet and trusting and just a bit naive so she does stupid things like leave her doors unlocked so he has to go and lock them for her just so that he has some peace of mind.

He will never know peace with Bee. Even when they get together she's the type of person to go, "Why would I worry about that? König will handle it." And he will but Christ woman, worry about something, please.

You are so interminably trusting it is bordering on insane. König twists the knob on your front door and sighs when it opens with little fuss. When you’d talked about how safe this town felt he really had hoped you didn’t mean it was “leave your door unlocked” safe. Apparently you had. He slid the door open enough to let himself in, and shut it quietly behind him.

He may as well, you practically left him an invitation after all. Stupid. Naive. You’re a woman living alone, shouldn’t you know better?

He thinks you keep your spare keys in your kitchen. Really you should have offered him one with how often you see each other, but it’s fine, he’ll grab one for himself and lock up while he’s at it. König is quiet searching your kitchen drawers, mindful of the clink of silverware as he eases each drawer open to look for your keys. It’s late enough that you should be dead asleep, but one can never be too careful. Nothing. He goes to check the table by the door, wincing at the creak of unoiled wood sliding against itself. He pauses, sliding his fingers carefully into the opening to feel for- yes, there it is.

A little ring with two pink metallic keys. He slides one off and takes a moment to put it on his own key ring before replacing the spare and sliding the drawer back into place. There, nothing left but to lock up. 

He hesitates, his hand on the front door waiting to open it. What is stopping him from leaving? No. What’s stopping him from staying? Your little orange cat winds its way around his legs, just as eager to see him as its mother always is. König bends down to scoop it up, feeling the rumble of its purr and scratching between its ears.

“Bringen wir dich zurück zu deiner Mutter,” He tells it with a low whisper. That’s what’s stopping him, he wants to see you. 

He knows where your room is, of course, up the stairs and at the end of the little hall. Your old floors may creak for you, but he’s never had any trouble. Your door is open, your windows are open, you are open. Sleeping soundly under the cool breeze from the ceiling fan, looking so sweet and soft, and vulnerable. 

This was the problem. You left yourself too vulnerable to threats. It’s just not healthy. What if something were to happen and he wasn’t here? He sets the cat down on the floor, and brushes a strand of hair off your face. Pretty. His pretty girl.

You make a soft noise as the cat jumps on the bed, and he- God- No, no, he has to go. He can’t stay. He can’t.

It is a long walk back to the front door, but he doesn’t forget to lock it behind him.

König is such a worry wart sometimes, you think it’s funny that a man his size is worried about safety. He looks like a one man army, but he always double checks that he locked his front door before he leaves. You just wait for him in the truck, eager to get to town and get your weekly shopping done. When he finally gets in the cab and turns the truck on, you catch a flash of pink hanging with the rest of his keys. It looks just like one of your house keys, but that can’t be right.

“Is that my key?” You ask, feeling something pull in your gut, König glances down at his key ring, “How did you get my key?”

“You gave me one, did you forget?” König says with a frown, “You said you needed someone to feed the cat when you go into the city.” You nod hesitantly, thinking. Did you give him a key? You do need someone to feed Spot when you have to make the trek out to civilization. 

“Huh, yeah I- Thanks for that, I guess.” If König says you asked him you must have. He’s got no reason to lie to you.

#cowboy!Konig #konig x reader #konig x you #oc: Bee #x reader #Does the nasty boy snap a lil picture of bee while she's sleeping? #that's up to you but probably #dude you are such a creep(affectionate) #tw: gaslighting #full stop he is gaslighting you bee #also everyone peep that Bee is a star trek nerd on the dl #The cat was a housewarming present from Goose #könig modern warfare #könig cod #colonel könig #cod x reader #cod x oc

[delphi-shield]

contact high // leon s. kennedy

Leon x Reader Pointless Fluff wc: ~1.5k this fic was just an excuse to practice dialogue. [insert kermit 'its not fucking weed you piece of shit stoner' meme here] i think getting obliterated and falling asleep on leon could fix me.

summary: You're gone. No text, no voicemail - disappeared off the face of the earth. or Leon forgets you're at a party and finally has an excuse to practice those breathing exercises his therapist recommended.

content: drugs, leon's POV, gender neutral reader. intended as post-vendetta, pre-death island leon. bro's in therapy and he hates that it's working.

The door's unlocked.

Leon's brow furrows. He stands in the doorway a moment, turning the key again just to be sure he's not falling asleep on his feet. No such luck.

He steps into the apartment and calls your name, a hint of scolding sharpening the edges. How many times has he got to remind you? "Babe, you can't leave the door unlocked. Seriously, I could be anyone."

His own voice mocks him, bouncing back off the empty halls of the apartment. He pauses, shutting the door quietly behind him. He listens for the telltale sound of your presence - your voice drifting from the back room, loud and raucous laughter on a call with your friends, the drone of your latest period drama on TV - anything.

Worry overpowers exhaustion. He doesn't think to check his phone, gets right to snooping instead. Minds like his jump to the worst case scenario first, first responder born and bred.

Start from the top. Leon lets the evidence guide him around the room. Your shoes are in disarray by the shoe rack - not as if they had been disturbed in an altercation, but in your usual, messy way. Indecision, not foul play. The blanket on the back of the couch is wadded up and left in a heap on your side. A half-empty water glass drowns in its condensation, leaves a ring that won't come out later. You’d been in a hurry, but was it forced or absent-minded?

Leon’s hand curls over his sidearm. He's not taking any chances. He's already blown his cover by calling out. Stupid, he thinks. Getting slow in his old age. He spins into the kitchen, checking corners before he checks countertops.

Your keys lay in a heap on top of the mail.

It doesn't mean anything, he tells himself. Not yet, anyway. He scans the rest of the room, looking for other traces of you. Your bag, your phone, anything. Dinner hasn't been left out. The dishes have been put up. There's no sign of a struggle anywhere. It's entirely possible you just stepped out. But at this time of night? It’s almost two in the morning. No - it must have been someone that you had trusted. He flips through every friend you’ve ever introduced him to. Every ex, every bad date –

His therapist's voice nags at the back of his mind, babbling about jumping to conclusions, about assuming the worst case scenario and turning every uncomfortable moment into an operation, clinging to control through procedure, through swift, decisive action.

Deep breath. Look for alternative, easier answers. Not everything is life or death. Taking a hammer to every problem will only break things.

He fishes his personal phone out from his jacket, flips through messages. No new texts or missed calls from you. Not encouraging. Breathe in for four, hold for seven. Breathe out for eight.

Can’t believe these stupid breathing exercises work.

He should just call you. What the hell is he thinking? If he calls and you don't answer, then he can give himself permission to panic.

The phone rings. Once. Twice. By the third time, he's already pacing back to the front door, ready to take his investigation from top to bottom again. He’s already crouched by the shoe rack, searching for anything he could have missed, when you answer.

"Hey!" Thank fucking god. It sounds like you're in the middle of a warzone, but at least you picked up. 

Not a warzone, he reminds himself. That’s laughter, not the wail of the dead and dying. He tries to speak past the lump in his throat, but the words get stuck. Breathe, he reminds himself. He tries again.

“Hey.”

The noise of the crowd dims, the latch of a door shut a little too hard - where the hell are you? 

"What's up? How was work?"

Are you serious? It’s nearly two in the morning and all you can say for yourself is how was work?

"Fine," he says, trying his best not to be curt. He presses his fingers to his temples, massages the headache away. "Where are you?"

"Jen's birthday."

Shit. That was right. You had that party. Leon marches back into the kitchen, stares at the whiteboard you had plastered to the fridge. You insisted on writing your schedule out for him. He'd thought it was stupid, at the time. He didn't need help remembering.

There it is. Your spidery handwriting haphazardly circled, confetti and noisemakers poorly drawn around it - B-DAY PARTY, 8PM

He drops his head against the fridge door, tries not to sigh into the phone.

“We talked about it last week.”

“I know.”

"I left you a note."

"Yeah, I know."

"Sorry, baby. I would have invited you but there's, like, so much weed here," you laugh. It lights his chest up with warmth - or maybe that’s relief. “In good conscience, I couldn’t invite a fed.”

In good conscience, you say. He snorts, bonks his head against the fridge again. Yeah. You’re high, all right.

“You forgot your keys.” “Fuck!” You’re pouting. He can hear it over the phone. “Sorry. Can you leave the door unlocked for me? I’ll get an Uber. Party’s kinda over anyway.”

Like hell you will. He doesn’t trust those things. A cute little thing like you, getting into a stranger’s car in the middle of the night, high off your ass?

“No, no.” He slips his shoes back on, fishes his keys from his pocket. “Send me the address. I’ll come get you.”

It’s the same roulette wheel of questions you ask him every time he offers to do something for you. Are you sure? Yes, of course he is. I don’t want to bother you. He was literally made to be bothered by you, that’s what he signed up for. Can we watch a movie? Sure, why not. He’ll probably fall asleep, but he knows you’ll beat him to it. Probably won’t even make it past the first scene.

You’re waiting for him on the curb, hands tucked into your armpits to keep warm. Your face splits into a grin when he pulls up to you. There’s that damn warmth again, spreading down his limbs. He leans over to pop the door for you. You’re a little wobbly on your feet, got him worried for a moment that you might have the spins, but you plop into the seat and kiss him in lieu of hello, and his worries evaporate.

“Goddamn,” he murmurs against your lips. Before you can give him your smug little reply, he straightens up, puts the car in gear. “You’re gonna give me a contact high. Gonna fail my drug test. Lose my job.” “Yeah, right. You could be on, like, mega-coke and they’d keep you around.”

“Mega-coke, huh? That the big new thing with kids?”

“You didn’t hear it from me.”

You babble at him the whole ride home, catching him up on the latest drama, pausing for him to interject with no, she didn’t and what a bitch at the appropriate moments. He has to fend off your encroaching hands at stop lights, knowing damn well you want more than just to rest your hand on his thigh. You laugh every time he moves your hand back to your side, your nose scrunching and the corner of your eyes creasing, and he knows there’s no staying mad at a face he’s mapped out countless times before bed, whether he was right next to you or half a world away.

By the time he pulls into the parking lot, your head has knocked against the car window, your babbling slowed. He nudges you gently, big palm splayed against the point of your shoulder.

“Want me to carry you in?” He asks, his voice low. He meant it to sound teasing, but his heart’s not in it.

You stir, fumbling with your seatbelt. “Neighbor’s are gonna see.”

“It’s almost three in the morning.” He reaches across the console and unbuckles your seatbelt for you. You pop the door open and stumble out on your own two feet before he can round the car. He settles for looping his arm around your waist, keeping you close to him.

He guides you inside, makes a teasing joke about locking the door – now, this is called a ‘lock’, you put your key in and turn it so no one can get in. That way your stuff doesn’t get stolen and your boyfriend doesn’t freak out - just to hear you grouse at him and smack his shoulder.

After making a show of locking the door, he drops you off on the couch. He presses a kiss to your hair and trots off to get you a glass of water. He can’t have been gone more than a handful of minutes, but when he returns, you’re crashed out against the arm of the couch, mouth open, snoring softly.

“Didn’t even make it to the movie,” Leon muses. He pulls you to lean against his chest and unfurls the wadded up blanket, draping it over the both of you.

The arm of the couch jams into his back at an awkward angle. He tries to shift down, but you whine and cling to him tighter. It feels like kicking a puppy. He’s going to regret this tomorrow, but he lets you rest. You’re home. That’s all that matters.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fluff #resident evil imagine #leon kennedy x you #resident evil x reader #x reader #there's a fuckin splatfest on baby you know i had to post #resident evil fluff

[readerthatreadsss]

𝙎𝙪𝙣𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙚 | 𝙈𝙖𝙧𝙘 𝙎𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙤𝙧

Pairing: Marc Spector X Fem! reader

Summary: You and Marc had been working together on a mission for the gods you were both in service to. And when Konshu and Isis have a disagreement, naturally their avatars would too. Only, this time, your argument leads to something much more...eventful.

Warnings [18+ activities]: Mentions of the Egyptian Gods, arguing, swearing, brief physical fight (shoving each other and him pinning you to the wall), SMUT, P in V sex, Porn with a drizzle of plot, pet names (sunshine, baby, sweetheart), dom! reader (mostly), switch!Marc, degradation with some praise kink if you squint, choking, unprotected sex (wrap your willy before you fuck her silly), oral sex (m and f receiving), handjob, edging (m receiving), face riding, fingering, rough sex, etc cause I got carried away lmao.

Word count: 4.5k+ (I'm not sorry cause this is some of my best work fr)

(not my gif but I wish he was mines)

"Shut the hell up!"

"Oh fuck you, Spector!"

Isis and Konshu stood behind you and Marc, both sharing looks of annoyance at your bickering.

You and Marc had been working together under the advisory of your Gods for the past two months. And about half of that time was spent on you and Marc arguing.

Of course, Konshu and Isis disagreed with each other occasionally, but once you two caught wind of it, it was merely a spark added to the powder keg that was your and Marc's partnership. You used the smallest point of disagreement to fuel explosive arguments that often drifted away from the initial point.

Now, the initial point of disagreement was whether or not the two of you should venture to Arthur Harrow's London village and steal the scarab that led to Ammit's tomb.

Of course, Marc and Konshu wanted to. But you and Isis thought it to be an irrational idea that could lead to your deaths, seeing as Marc couldn't keep a hold on his alter.

"If Steven comes back to the surface at the wrong point, he could get us killed, Marc!" you argued, already having met Steven on a separate accidental occasion.

"That won't happen. I have him under control, worry about your own problems," the dark-haired mercenary spat from across the room, venom lacing his every word.

"My own problems?"

You angrily walked over to where he was packing his stuff for his departure.

"Yeah, your own fucking problems."

Marc began moving to meet you in the middle of the room, throwing his open duffel bag to the floor in frustration.

"Well, right now, my fucking problem is the fact that you're so damn eager to get this over with that you're not using your head, Marc!" you shouted, your voice bouncing off the walls of your spacious apartment, "I'm not letting you get us killed, I don't give a shit how experienced Konshu says you are."

Marc scoffed, a stupid smirk airing its way onto his clean-shaven face. "And how the hell would that happen, huh, Y/L/N? How would my plan get us killed?"

You resisted the urge to smack the smirk off his perfect face- no, not perfect. Admitting that Marc Spector had a perfect face was admitting to yourself that in your spare time you had been observing him and had been quite fond of what you've seen.

And you wouldn't give the lonely-and possibly horny- part of your brain that satisfaction.

"Because we have no fucking clue what we're walking into!" you bellowed, "Right now, Harrow has no idea that we know what he's up to. So if we just strut into his village and try and steal the scarab, which will most likely lead to us having to fight his guards and showing our faces, we'll be giving ourselves away AND on his home turf too."

Tense silence passed between the both of you as Marc took in and analyzed your words.

You placed your arms on your hips, waiting for a response from the angry mercenary.

You were surprised, however, when you caught his brown eyes briefly drift down to your lips. The glance was no longer than a second, but with your job, you couldn't miss something that minuscule even if you tried.

"You're wrong," he lowly countered after a few more seconds.

You sharply exhaled, now feeling your ears burn a bright red from anger. "What?" you seethed, daring to take a step closer to Marc.

Konshu and Isis sent each other knowing glances before disappearing together, leaving you two alone in the barely furnished apartment.

"You heard me, sunshine," Marc taunted you, knowing that you hated when he used that nickname, "We're going with my plan."

"Don't call me that."

Marc walked forward and came to a stop before you, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "Or else what?" he whispered as his surprisingly pleasant scent invaded your senses.

Before you could slip and give in to the part of you that wanted to lean forward and kiss his plump red lips, you extended one of your arms and shoved him away from you. "Kiss my ass, Spector."

You immediately regret your choice of words.

"I bet you'd like that," he raised a brow at you.

You would. You most certainly would. Not that you'd ever admit it out loud.

"I wonder what your ex-wife would think about you saying stuff like this to women you work with."

The smirk immediately disappeared from his face. It was replaced with a look that could freeze hell twenty times over. And you couldn't help but smirk at the sight of it.

"You bitch," Marc seethed.

"What? You didn't think I'd find out, did you? Turns out being related to a former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent has its perks," you grinned triumphantly, "You couldn't even keep your marriage stable, I don't know why I ever expected anything different for this mission."

At this, you could almost see steam fly out of Marc's ears. His eyes were nearly red when he lunged forward and wrapped both his hands around your neck. Before you could respond, the curly-haired merc slammed you against your own living room wall continuing to squeeze the air out of your lungs.

Marc panted as his face hovered above your own, merely inches between your lips, allowing his cool breath to fan over your face.

"Shut. Up," he lowly growled through gritted teeth. His tone could've convinced anyone that he was angry and boiling with rage, but in his eyes, you could see something else:

Lust.

Your constant insults and threats were driving him crazy in a way he never thought he could enjoy until now.

You smirked maniacally up at him, the lack of airflow shooting straight between your legs. "You keep choking me like this, I might end up making a mess on my own floors, Spector," you whispered.

"Go ahead, do it, you fucking slut," he spat.

You may have been desperately horny, but in no universe would you let anyone talk to you like that and get away with it.

Not for free anyways...

So you skillfully grabbed each of his hands and ripped them off your throat before extending your own hands and wrapping them around Marc's neck. His eyes widened in surprise as you switched your positions, making sure to slam him harshly against the wall.

"If we're gonna do this," you began, panting from your own arousal, "you don't get to be in charge, Spector," you leaned close enough for your lips to graze his earlobe, "I do."

You grabbed his ear in between your lips and gently nipped it, gaining a groan from the man. You'd never imagine him to be this submissive, especially not this fast, but it seems there's a lot you didn't know about Marc Spector.

"Look at you," you harshly whispered, your lips trailing down his sharp jawline, "groaning like a bitch in heat and I barely touched you."

Marc sharply inhaled while you sucked marks onto his stubbled jaw. He could barely concentrate long enough to snap back at your remark.

You used your free hand to slide up beneath the incredibly tight t-shirt he had been wearing and couldn't help but smile at the shiver that your touch sent through his body.

"You like when I touch you like this?" you cooed with pouty lips, intentionally taunting him, "You like the way my hands feel right...here?" your hand traveled further south with your words. A strangled groan sounded from his throat when you briefly palmed his growing erection through his tight jeans.

You could see him fighting his instincts to overpower you and take back control as you pressed chaste kisses on the corner of his mouth.

Soon enough, he gained back focus and brought a hand forward to grip your waist through the tank top you had been wearing. He used his hold on you to pull you flush against him in an attempt to relieve the tension in his jeans.

The sheer strength in his grip made your mouth briefly snap open and a low moan escaped your lips.

Now it was Marc's turn to smirk at you.

But you wouldn't give up the reigns that easily.

You quickly freed yourself from his hold and took a few steps back.

Marc's chest heaved as he watched you with furrowed brows, buzzing with curiosity and possibly excitement about your next moves.

A small grin soon found its way onto your face. Taking care to make a show of your movements, you slowly lifted your arms to remove your top.

Marc's dilated brown eyes followed your every move.

Once your shirt and bra were removed, you were left topless gaining a ravenous stare from Marc.

Not giving him a chance to pounce, you turned around and walked towards the soft couch on the other side of the room.

Marc followed behind you eagerly, all the while appreciating the view of you from behind, (something he had caught himself doing many times before.)

"Take off your clothes and sit down, Spector," you commanded him with a sure yet airy tone. Marc was shocked to find himself quickly obeying your orders, but with eyes like yours and a voice like that, you'd be able to get him to lift up a planet with ease.

It took Marc mere seconds to do what you asked. You followed suit by removing the rest of your clothes except your underwear.

The brunette man sat in the center of your couch with his arms splayed across the back, looking up at you with a cool expression on his face. But his eyes betrayed his true eagerness.

You took a few steps forward to meet him and carefully positioned yourself to straddle his naked legs.

The moment your skin met his, Marc sharply inhaled and brought his hands to grab your ass cheeks.

"Somebody's eager," you taunted as you began to torturously grind your clothed front against his firm member.

"I can feel your wetness through your panties, sweetheart. You want this as much as I do."

He had a point there.

You then brought your hands up his toned abdomen and at rest on each side of his neck before leaning in to press your breasts against his chest.

"Well, then," you softly spoke, "let's get on with it."

An unseen force pulled your lips crashing down against Marc's soon after. Your teeth and tongue clashed deliciously, neither of you being able to get enough.

You felt him rub his large palms against the smooth skin of your bare waist, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

You rocked your covered pussy particularly hard against Marc's pulsing erection. This gained you a low moan from him, which you took as an opportunity to shove your tongue in between his wet lips, deepening the already heated kiss.

Your hands tangled within Marc's hair, your mouths continuing to move in a perfect dance, before you felt a sharp sting against your ass.

This gained Marc an impressed yelp from your lips. "Stop teasing," he scowled.

You couldn't help but laugh at the desperation in his tone. "I'll do whatever the fuck I want, Marc Spector," you smiled, your fingers lightly swiping over his swollen lips.

It was almost as if you were in a dream sequence when you looked down at the adonis of a man beneath you. His chocolate eyes were fully locked onto yours while he gripped your hips with the force of a thousand suns. You were positive it would leave bruises the next day but you couldn't care less. His defined chest and arms glistened with a light sheen of sweat, and you suddenly felt the urge to lick them.

"Like what you see, sunshine?" he smiled up at you, trying to hide the fact that he had been taking in your features and was in awe of them as well.

"Hmm mhm," you confessed, "Let me show you just how much," you said, starting to slide off Marc's lap and onto your knees before him.

"Hey," he called out in an attempt to stop you, "You don't have to do this if you don't want to." You were surprised to hear that his tone was genuine.

But it just made you want to suck his cock even more.

"I really want to," you nodded with a teasing grin.

"Besides, I would never pass up the opportunity to hear you groaning and twitching like a little bitch, Spector," you taunted him as you softly gripped the base of his large dick. You were almost scared by his girth and length, never having been with a man with anything close to it before, but you did not allow your face to betray your shock.

"Is that a challenge?" Marc referenced your teasing.

"Sure, why not," you shrugged.

Marc made himself comfortable and rested his hands behind his head with a pleasant smile. He could tell from your expression that you were intimidated by his size and that made his grin grow wider.

You made sure to hold eye contact with him as you slowly licked up the small pool of precum that had gathered around his tip. You held back a moan at how good he tasted

His resolve nearly broke the moment your tongue touched him.

You wasted no time and wrapped your eager lips around nearly half of Marc's length, catching him by surprise.

"Fuck!" he sharply groaned at the sudden motion.

You quickly removed your mouth from around him. "Would you like me to stop?" you asked, damn well knowing the answer.

"Absolutely the fuck not," Marc panted. He then brought one of his hands to rest in your hair and guided your lips back to his throbbing cock.

But you immediately slapped away his hand. "Keep your hands to yourself or I will put my clothes back on and go to bed," you lied, wanting to establish even more control over him.

"You wouldn't fucking dare," Marc quickly sat up.

"You're right, I wouldn't," you didn't spare another second before attaching your lips back onto Marc's cock.

This time you were determined to unravel him even more, so you began to bob your head up and down on his length. Drool soon ran down the side of your lips as you were barely able to fit Marc's cock into your mouth, and you were nowhere near the base.

But he was still losing it.

From the side of your eye, you could see Marc gripping your couch harshly, taking deep and controlled breaths.

You decided to make things even harder.

Releasing his cock from the onslaught of your mouth, you slid back up onto the couch and resorted to using your hand to cover more ground.

As your hand gripped Marc's cock and began to stroke, you kissed along the side of his neck, causing him to swallow harshly in an attempt to hold himself back.

"Come on Marc, let go," you whispered as you quickened your hand's jerking pace, "I know you want to," you added before licking a stripe below his ear.

You were driving Marc insane. And he could barely form words to let you know it, but you could see it.

Your hand began to work Marc's cock even faster while you continued to litter his neck with kisses and bruises, causing his breathing to pick up. He began thrusting his hips upwards to meet your downward jerking, desperate for more friction and release.

"Cum for me, Marc," you urged him before turning his head towards you for a deep kiss on his lips.

"You're too fucking good at this, Y/N," he softly groaned, taking care to hold your stare.

"I'm good at a lot of other things too," you grinned.

The sounds of your hand jerking off Marc's cock echoed in your apartment as tides of pleasure coursed through him.

"Fuck I'm gonna-"

But Marc couldn't finish his sentence because at that moment you swiftly removed your hand from around his dick.

"What the hell?" he complained.

"Oh, I'm sorry were you really gonna cum before me?" you tilted your head.

Marc's eyes narrowed in your direction, his sharp jaw clenching in annoyance at your denial of his orgasm.

"This is my house, Marc, I come first," you held back a giggle at your double entendre.

You were elated to see Marc grow even more eager at your words.

Before you knew it, you felt your body be dragged from the arm of the couch and into the middle, and your legs pushed open soon after. The tear of cloth sounded through the room when Marc swiftly removed your panties and threw them to the side.

A moan slipped from your lips as you watched Marc wet his lips and then his fingers. This man was sex on legs.

"Oh fuck," you groaned when he leaned down and licked a stripe up your dripping pussy.

Your moans grew sloppier as he began to eat you like a man starved while massaging your clit with his fingers.

"Yes, oh God, yes don't stop Marc," you panted, your hands soon finding their way into Marc's messy curls.

He slowly inserted two fingers into your hole. "You're so fucking tight, sunshine," Marc commented as he skillfully used his fingers to pleasure you.

"Keep going," you replied before bringing his head back into your pussy.

But Marc surprised you once again when he removed his hands and mouth from you completely and picked you up, as if you were nothing more than a feather, and carried you to where your large bed lay in the corner of the room.

You giggled once he dropped you onto the soft mattress, watching him slide above you. He wore a gorgeous smile on his face as he held you in place and pushed a strand of hair away from your face.

His stare was so meaningful and intimidating that you found yourself blushing.

"You are so fucking beautiful," he softly spoke.

"So are you," you found yourself replying with a smile, and meaning it.

Marc leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. But this time, the kiss was softer and more gentle.

You found yourself enjoying the intimate act more than you expected and leaned into the kiss. A foreign feeling bubbled in your stomach as you continued to kiss Marc.

But you soon felt him pulling away.

Not long after, however, you felt something smooth and wet against your breasts.

You opened your eyes to see him sucking one of your perked nipples into his mouth while his free hand played with the other. Your body tinged with pleasure as Marc switched between your tits, even lightly nipping at your nipples a few times.

All the while his eyes never left yours.

You reached down and ran your hand through his hair, which was now moistened with sweat. "I want to sit on that pretty face of yours," you suddenly suggested.

"You read my mind baby."

You both quickly moved into the proper positions, with your body hovering above his hungry mouth. He roughly gripped your thighs and looked up at you through his thick lashes.

"Tap on my legs if I'm suffocating you," you softly told him, "I'd rather you not die before I get to fuck you."

Marc, however, was not the least bit concerned and harshly pulled you down onto his lips.

"Shit!" you loudly squealed as his tongue immediately went back to work on your clit.

You soon gripped his head and began rocking back on forth on his mouth.

The mercenary moaned his approval at your movements which shot straight through your pussy and made you gasp.

"I'm gonna cum already, fuck," your chest heaved.

Marc's hand moved up to squeeze your ass as you picked up speed, riding his face even harder.

You grew worried about him running out of air beneath you and slowly tried to lift yourself up, but Marc's grip on your butt kept you in place.

He wouldn't mind dying like this, he thought to himself.

Your moans grew high pitched and Marc's tongue moved at a more rapid pace initiating your orgasm.

The repeated brush of his perfectly pointy nose against your clit was all it took for that dam to break.

"Holy fuck-" you slammed a hand over your mouth to hold back a scream as you came all over Marc's mouth.

He had no issue swallowing every bit of your slick that he could, holding you upright while your legs quivered on the sides of his head.

A few seconds passed and you realized that Marc was fully prepared to continue devouring your cunt despite the severe orgasm that rocked you.

"Ease up, soldier," you giggled down at him, forcing your legs free of his hands.

"You taste fantastic, sunshine," he finally relented. You moved over to lay by his side, trying not to get lost in the way he looked at you.

"You eat pussy like a demon," you both laughed, your hand caressing the side of his face.

Marc wrapped a hand around your waist and pulled you in for a kiss.

He swallowed the moan that left you as your own taste flooded your senses.

His kisses were intoxicating.

Marc slowly shifted to hover over your body, not yet breaking the sloppy kiss.

But you caught his shoulder and shoved him onto his back before positioning yourself on his lap. "Uh, uh," you smirked, leaning down to press a wet kiss to his neck.

Marc used one hand to smack your ass while the other lined his painfully hard cock with your entrance. "You gonna let me fuck you, or what?" he grinned up at you, his gruff tone and rough accent making you wetter.

You shut him up promptly by reaching around and gripping his dick, gaining a deep groan from him. You then slowly guided him into your soaking cunt, loudly moaning from the stretch.

It was initially painful but with Marc pressing kisses to your neck and whispering praises in your ears, the pain disappeared quickly.

"There you go baby," he slowly guided your hips up and down his length.

Your shared moans echoed all throughout your room as you began riding Marc's cock even faster.

By now, he was fully inside you and with every thrust, he hit your g-spot perfectly.

"You feel so good around me sunshine," Marc wrapped his arms around your back, cradling you closer to his chest.

His words caused you to briefly clench around him which only drove him to fuck up into you harder.

But then you used all your strength to push him flat onto his back before diving down to wrap your hands around his neck.

Marc was grinning like a maniac as you choked him while bouncing on his cock.

He never thought he'd enjoy being controlled but seeing you take what you want, and use him just the way you want, made his head spin.

Freeing himself from your grip on his neck, Marc secured his hold on you and switched your positions.

Your eyes widened as Marc was now on top of you, smirking while his hands found their way around your neck. "My turn," he whispered before ramming his fat cock into your sopping hole.

"Marc! Fuck!" you loudly moaned, pleasure attacking you in waves as Marc set a brutal pace inside you. That coupled with the lack of air from his grip around your neck had your orgasm slamming into you.

"Cum on my cock baby, I got you," he talked you through it.

Marc then used one hand and reached down to skillfully rub your clit, hoping to push you farther over the edge.

You felt tears of pleasure spring from your eyes as Marc's relentless pounding and his fingers prolonged your orgasm into another one.

He eased the pressure on your neck and slowed his thrusts before leaning down to kiss where your tears met your cheek.

"You're doing so good for me sunshine, keep going," he grinned, using a hand to wipe away the layer of sweat that formed on your forehead.

You took a deep breath and grinned up at him. "That was fucking intense," you panted, your legs still twitching as Marc began slowly rocking into you again.

"Well don't slow down on my account," you urged him.

A deep chuckle rumbled from his chest at your demand. But things took a turn when he pulled out and flipped you onto your stomach.

Marc held both your hands behind your back with a vice grip as he fucked his length back into your sex.

"Fuck yes, harder Marc," you shouted.

Marc pulled your upper body to his chest with both arms and pounded into you with fury.

"This is what you wanted right?" he sneered into your ears, maintaining his thrusts.

"Yes, yes, God, yes-" you babbled.

His pace eventually grew sloppy, telling you he was reaching his own orgasm soon.

You turned your head to see his brows furrowed in concentration as he tried to hold back. "It's okay Marc," you kissed beneath his earlobe, "I need you to cum inside me, lemme feel you."

Marc's breathing began to pick up at your plea. "Shit," he panted and thrust into you one more time. The force with which he fucked into you was enough to garner another orgasm from you instantaneously.

A pathetic whine left your lips as you felt his cock twitch before painting your walls with his warm cum.

He pressed a chaste kiss to your shoulder as you both came down from your highs. Marc slowly withdrew from your heat with a satisfied groan. He then guided you to carefully lie down.

Spent from the day's activity, you complied and tried to rid your mind of its haze.

You managed to catch the sight of Marc walking into your bathroom and couldn't fight the smile that appeared when he returned with a damp rag.

"You didn't have to do that for me," you said as he gently spread your sore legs and used the rag to clean the remnants of him.

"Why do you refuse to let people take care of you?" he smiled with furrowed brows, continuing to clean between your legs.

"No, you buffoon," you rolled your eyes, "I was going to go pee anyways, so you're literally wasting your time."

"Oh."

You laughed at his dumbfounded expression. "Thanks though," you quickly kissed his forehead before making your way to the bathroom.

And then it was his turn to laugh when you stumbled into the closest wall in an attempt to walk normally.

His laughs continued despite your protests but he stood and approached your crumpled figure.

"Need a hand, sunshine?" he teased you.

You glared up at him through your lashes and reluctantly accepted his help.

"Didn't I tell you to stop calling me that?" you raised a brow as he guided you to your bathroom.

"You didn't seem to mind it when I was fucking your brains out, sunshine."

A/N: I started this in June and finally finished it even tho it's fucking December LMAO

Remember to comment, like, and reblog! And feel free to send in more requests! ( to my dom!Peter Parker request, I'm making it happen I promise)

#marc spector x reader #marc spector smut #marc spector #marc spector fanfic #marc spector x you #marc spector fanfiction #marc spector x y/n #oneshot #smut #moon knight fic #moon knight x reader #moon knight smut #moon knight x you #moon knight #marvel smut #marvel fanfiction #marvel #oscar issac smut #moon knight x y/n #moon knight fanfiction #enimes to lovers

[romione-trope-fest]

Call It What You Want - Romione Hidden Relationship

Title: Call It What You Want

Author: adenei

Selected Trope: Fake NOT Dating (Hidden Relationship)

Brief Summary: In a world where there is no Voldemort, Hogwarts is just an ordinary school for witchcraft and wizardry. The Golden Trio still pass through its hallowed halls for their seventh year, but not as you’d expect. Hermione Granger, of Ravenclaw is—naturally—Head Girl, and Ron Weasley, of Gryffindor, was named alongside her as Head Boy. It’s everything Hermione’s ever dreamed of, except there’s one small problem. After a falling out in fifth year, Hermione and Ron don’t get along. Or so everyone thinks.

Word Count: 2,771 (Chapter 1 of a multichapter story)

Rating: T

TW: None

This is not how tonight was supposed to go.

Hermione rubs her temples with the thumb and middle finger of her left hand, squeezing her eyes shut. Blots of ink drip from the tip of the quill in her right hand, hovering over the box labeled ‘7 November’ on the magically duplicated parchment, soaking through and threatening to stain the old maple of the worn desk. There are other things she’d like to be doing against this desk right now instead of creating the rounds schedule like the dutiful Head Girl she is. Like writing her Ancient Runes essay. 

Yes, her Runes essay is exactly what she’d rather be doing. Not this stupid round schedule that she shouldn’t even be completing alone. The Head Boy should be helping. The Head Boy who should also be back by now. The one she’s been daydreaming about for the last thirty minutes. Visions of him shoving everything off the smooth desktop to lay her down on it so they can—nope. That’s definitely not what she’d rather be doing instead.

She sets down the quill, bunches up the parchment and tosses it in the bin. “Ugh. This is stupid.”

The whole thing is stupid, really. Hermione swore to herself she’d play this whole thing cool. She can manage ‘cool’, right? It shouldn’t be hard. 

Yet here she is, fixating on him, the boy who’s always intent on letting her down. Who can’t even bother being on time after he said he would.

Empty promises. 

Maybe this is a bad idea, after all.

She pushes the wooden chair with leather upholstery out from the desk and escapes into her bedroom. There’s no point in staying in her uniform anymore. Tonight’s assigned Prefects are already on duty. It’s not like they’re going to come and request assistance. Hermione doesn’t know why she bothers to stay dressed until at least ten every evening.

I know why.

God, she hates the singsong voice taunting her mind. She will not think about the other reasons she’s still dressed in her uniform. How the tie makes it easy for him to pull her close. How the white button-up shirt is translucent enough to pique his imagination, making it impossible for him to hide his desire. How the loose pleated skirt can offer easy access for him to—

Nope. I said we weren’t going there. 

Plus, it’s not like she’s let things go that far. Though, she wonders if that could possibly be the reason she’s so fixated on her desire right now. Maybe she needs to experience the release and then she can not be so wound up for no damn reason. Because she’s being ridiculous—she needs to get it together. When has Hermione Granger ever let her thoughts distract her to this level of being completely incapable of doing anything?

She pulls out her comfiest pair of blue plaid pajama bottoms and a matching black vest with Ravenclaw’s crest on the upper right chest. Once she’s slipped off her skirt and replaced it with the worn-in, faded fabric, she works slowly at the buttons of her shirt. Is she going to fully turn-in for the evening? Does she really not want to see him at all? Can she fall asleep without knowing why he blew her off?

With fingertips grazing the front clasp of her periwinkle bralette, she ultimately decides to leave it for now. She’s not quite ready to shut him out tonight. Not yet. She’ll give him thirty more minutes while she reads by the fire.

Still, there’s a voice in the back of her mind trying to convince her to just shut and lock her door. ‘Ice him out. Give him the silent treatment.’ But she wants the satisfaction of seeing him squirm as he tries to make some half-arsed excuse as to why he’s late. 

Clearly, he’s not taking his duties seriously—not taking her seriously. What a typical Gryffindor. What on earth was Professor McGonagall thinking?

Hermione swipes the novel she’s currently reading off of her nightstand and stomps back out to the common area, plopping down on the sofa in front of the fireplace. She doesn’t even need the wool blue and bronze blanket draped over the back because the fire manages to keep the small room so warm—almost too warm.

Well, something needs to keep me warm tonight.

She tries desperately to get lost in her book. It takes longer than necessary, but eventually, the plot takes a turn, drawing her in with the promise of a mysterious prince taking interest in the stubborn, independent main character who is out to prove that she doesn’t need a man to complete her.

And naturally, once she’s sucked into the witty banter of the main characters, there’s a soft click that echoes across the mostly empty space as the door opens and shuts. In walks the bane of her existence, forehead glistening with what she assumes to be sweat; the tips of his red fringe wet.

Eyes peering over the top of her book—and against her better judgment—she drinks him in as he kicks off his standard broom-riding leather boots. Damn him for bending over and showing off the sculpted muscles of his arse in those tight khaki pants. And damn her for all but drooling over it. It’s like he knows she’s going to be pissed and needs to break her resolve. The red and gold jersey doesn’t help either, given that it threatens to rip open any time his arms flex. How she’d love to grab it by the number ‘two’ plastered on his back and rip it off of him so it’ll stop turning her on when she’s supposed to be mad at him.

Yes, because getting him shirtless is going to help the anger situation.

Hermione forces her eyes back to the book, but still catches the way he beams his stupid lopsided smile at her when he finally turns around. Why does he have to be so cocky and confident and put together all the freaking time? Even when he’s not, he still manages to pull off ‘effortless’ like it’s nothing. She should be lucky he wants to spend time with her at all, given he’s so out of her league.

Sure, pair the brainy little Ravenclaw with the jocky Gryffindor fuckboy. Dumbledore probably had a right laugh making that decision. They get along fine. Ha. That’s what he thinks. Of course, they used to, before he did the one thing that fucked everything up fifth year.

Stop. Things have been fine so far. More than fine. I’m sure he has a perfectly good excuse for why he’s—

“Hey.” He breaks her out of her spiral. “Sorry I’m late. Practice ran a little over, then I thought I’d hit the Prefects Bathroom to shower before heading—”

Hermione huffs a little too loudly. 

“What?”

“Save it, Ron. I don’t need your excuses.”

“It’s…not? Demelza would not let up tonight. She wanted the Chasers to perfect this play and begged me to stay an extra twenty minutes.”

She raises an eyebrow and allows her gaze to settle on him, searching for sincerity in the striking cornflower blue of his eyes. Ugh, she hates how those eyes can damn near melt her with a single heated look, much like the one he’s giving her now. Like he knows what she’s about to say, but is challenging her to do it anyway.

And naturally, she does. “Right. So, then you needed a, what, thirty minute shower? In the Prefects Bathroom, no less, when you could have come straight here?”

Even though he’s goading her and should be fully expecting it, his jaw still drops. He folds his arms, and—ugh, for Merlin’s sake she needs to stop staring at the contours of his chest—shakes his head slightly. A scoff escapes his throat.

“You don’t believe me.”

“Do you really expect me to? It’s okay, you can tell me if you got mauled by your groupies. I can’t imagine having a fan club follow me around like the sun shines out of my—”

“I do not have groupies. Those fourth and fifth years are always after Harry.”

“Right—”

“And I’m not lying to you.”

“Of course you’re not. Because the first thing I always like to do after taking a shower is put on the sweaty clothes I just stripped off to get clean from.” She shoves the bookmark in her book and slams it down on the sofa as she finally stands to face him.

The frustration in his eyes shifts as soon as the words come tumbling out of her mouth. She’s not even sure if he’s still listening, given the way his eyes flit down to her heaving chest. Unabashed desire falls over his face as his eyes darken and the corner of his lip curls upward. For a split second, she wonders what could possibly possess his face to transform that way. Because it’s not entirely want. If it was, she doesn’t think they’d be standing this far apart. 

Studying his expression a little longer, she wills her mind to connect the dots. She knows that look from somewhere. But…where? And then the familiarity suddenly hits her. It’s the face he makes when he finds the checkmate.

Nice try, Weasley, but you’re not winning this one.

It’s beyond annoying, not to mention ridiculous. There’s no way he can win this. Her logic is sound and his story doesn’t line up. If he thinks he’s going to get out of this one, she’d like to see him try. 

He takes a step closer, but remains on the other side of the sofa. His arms relax as his hands grip the back of the sofa while he stares intently at her. “You know I have two practice jerseys right?”

“No,” she responds automatically before her eyes go wide. 

She purses her lips and is tempted to stand down, but she refuses. Hermione Granger does not back down from a fight. Even if she knows what’s coming and he’s got her cornered. As much as she doesn’t want to, there’s nothing left to do but brace herself for the inevitable checkmate and prepare for a rematch.

“Mental, isn’t it? Having more than one? I mean, I could see why you’d think that—most players offer their jerseys to girlfriends or boyfriends to wear as support during matches. But considering our first match isn’t for another month, I haven’t given mine away yet. It’s still sitting in my Prefect locker—well, it was. You haven’t forgotten we have those too, have you?”

Her nostrils flare. She hates the way he gloats. “No,” she spits, knowing he won’t go on until she acknowledges the question. 

“Yeah, well, you were right, though. I was a sweaty mess and didn’t want to come back looking like that. But I also know how much you like the uniform, so…it seemed like the perfect solution.”

Her jaw twitches. Okay, so he wasn’t off with another girl. Not that she really thought he would be anyway. She supposes maybe she’s just overcompensating—desperate to hear him say he only has eyes for her. But that would be delusional. 

Just because they do, in fact, work well together, and they happen to have an agreement in place, doesn’t mean he’s going to be that forward. Besides, he clearly isn’t as serious as she is about their agreement given his tardiness—which further reiterates her decision to take things slow—and that’s precisely what she hones in on next.

“Yes, well, it’s already well past nine, and if you happen to recall, we were supposed to start the Round schedule for November tonight.”

“I’m aware.” His hands clench and Hermione’s gaze follows as the tightness ripples up his forearms, through his biceps to his neck and jaw.

Satisfied she’s swiped the relaxed, cocky demeanor out from beneath him, she’s certain she’ll take the next win. “Well, I don’t particularly appreciate having all the work shoved on me. Just because I’m a Ravenclaw with a high work ethic and the need to have everything organized and done weeks in advance does not mean I will be picking up your slack by completing it on my own.”

And he doesn’t need to know that I almost did, either.

“Hermione, who says I’m shoving the work off on—it’s October fifteenth—”

She cuts him off. “And we promised McGonagall a draft by Monday! Just because I can manage my schedule does not mean I’ll be bailing you out. The Heads are supposed to work together. It’s not my fault you’ve got Quidditch and Chess and all your classes to account for. I’m busy too, you know. I’ve got a heavy NEWT load, and can’t lose precious study time working on schedules by myself because you’re too busy playing Gryffindor’s savior on the pitch.”

“Are you seriously going to hold that team meeting on the Express over my head all year? I told you it wouldn’t be long and I’d be back to help. No one asked you to make the first week’s schedule on your own. I wanted to help.”

Hermione throws up her hands and turns to head to her room. “I’m not holding anything against you. I’m just saying, if I’m not important—if this isn’t important—then maybe we should rethink—”

Ron’s large, warm, freckly hand grabs hers and spins her around before he backs her into the frame of the door, his body flush against hers. It nearly knocks the wind right out of her lungs. Her spine is so erect that she almost doesn’t notice how her chest is pushed out, but when she tilts her head up to meet his gaze, she realizes very quickly that he does.

“You are important. But we have an image to maintain, remember? The one we agreed on? I couldn’t exactly tell my teammates to sod off because I had somewhere to be. They probably thought they were doing me a favor, keeping me later.”

It’s all she can do not to let her eyelids flutter shut as his hot breath hits her cheek. He definitely showered, all right. The warm, spiced scent of his soap invades her senses, and suddenly it’s difficult to think of anything else.

“I guess,” she concedes.

His knuckles graze her hips before blazing a tantalizing trail up her sides. It’s slow. It’s sensual. It’s everything she’s ever dreamed of. Eventually, his fingers tangle in her hair as his palms cup her face. Twenty-nine days and counting and she’s still not used to it. She doesn’t think she’ll ever be.

But before she lets herself get lost in his touch, his smell, his gaze, she notices his face split into a wide grin. He’s got one more trick up his sleeve, but at this point she doesn’t care. She just wants to feel his lips on hers. Because fourteen hours and three minutes—give or take—is far too long since the last time.

“By the way, if you’d checked the top right drawer, you might have noticed I already filled out half of November’s schedule.”

“You—what?”

His smile softens so that it’s more sheepish, but it’s still radiant as ever. “Yeah. Figured I owed you for September.”

“But we’re supposed to be doing it—”

“Together, I know. Except I’d rather be doing this instead.”

He swoops down and captures her lips with his, taking her breath away. She should really be used to this by now, but she’s not. Not even close. Her hands drift up his chest, grasping the jersey she was ogling not fifteen minutes ago, tugging and pulling at it. Because as good as it looks on him, she wants it off. Now.

His hands shift down to cup her arse, lifting her up and she wraps her legs around his waist. Her teeth scrape his bottom lip before her tongue darts into his mouth, eliciting a groan from deep within his chest.

“Fuck,” he says as he tears his mouth away from hers, peppering kisses along her jaw and down toward her neck. “So, we’re done rowing about the rounds schedule now, yeah? Because if it’s all the same to you, I’ve been waiting all day to do this.”

Hermione tilts her neck to give him easier access as her hands rake through the soft thicket of red hair as she guides him to the sensitive spot behind her ear. “Please,” she sighs with contented relief. All the tension she’s been holding evaporates with every kiss. “Though, I can think of some more comfortable places to snog other than against this door frame.

He smiles against her collarbone. “Right. Your room okay?”

“Always.”

As he carries her into her bedroom and kicks the door shut, Hermione can’t help feeling foolish for picking such a ridiculous fight. But she loves the thrill of going toe-to-toe with him because it makes the snogging—and then some—so much better.

It’s okay that he’s late—really, it is—because it means that their secret is safe. Outside these walls, it’s all an act. They’re indifferent toward each other, tolerable for the sake of being Head Boy and Head Girl. Working together only because they have to.

Little does everyone know they’re doing a lot more than working. It’s thrilling, really. Unbeknownst to the rest of the school, Ron Weasley is her boyfriend. And so far, it’s practically perfect in every way.

#submission #fake not dating #hidden relationship #romione #Ron Weasley #Hermione Granger

[gaymurdersalad]

>That’s…

>… That is wonderful, Asker. I guess you’re coming with me.

>You know, I do suppose it would be nice to have someone I… Tolerate around there. What, with that purple fucking menace looming around every wretched corner of my life. This should be a pleasant change of pace.

>Even if you’re not Dear Henry.

>Let’s Go.

[ VWOOM, TRANSITION SOUNDS, WEEP WOMP, YOU’RE GETTING SUCKED INTO AN ALTERNATE DIMENSION! VWOOOOOOP! ]

>Welcome to paradise, Asker. This is my own abode, where I store the personal arcade cabinet we just entered through.

>Right now we’re in my workshop. I would ask you to hold the aggressive comments on my decor. This is not my favorite place to reside— the house doesn’t even mean that much to me, you see; it was some lousy place my brother lived in before his wife kicked the bucket and he soon followed suit. Anyways, as such, I don’t care for upkeep.

>I really only use this place to enter the Flipside and take my fortnightly nap when this bumbling, wretched curse of a body decides it’s had its fill of lucidity.

>… God, look at me rambling. I get giddy when I’m unbothered.

>I am quite surprised we’ve gone this wrong uninterrupted by that slimy purple wen-

>SP- SPORTSY?

>Oh, oh Sportsy— I was so worried! I was so worried you just went off and forgot about me— I- I’m so glad you’re back, I’ve missed ya so much! I wus— Sportsy, I was so worried you left me for good! I know I been gettin’ on yer nerves, I— But I’d never— Oh, Sportsy, I’m so glad you’re back! I’m s-so sorry for earlier, Sportsy, I swear I’ll— I’ll make it up to ya in any way you want! I’m just so glad you’re back! I won’t make no dumb mistakes like that again— I swear! Just— I can take care of ya, I- I missed you so much! This past hour felt like agony wit’out’cha, Sportsy! I missed you!

>Are ya okay? Did anything happen while you were a’wanderin’? Not a scratch, it seems— That— That bullet wound, I hope ya didn’t move around too much, Sportsy, those bandages look… I- I’m so glad you’re alright, Sportsy, I missed ya! Do you need for anything? Can I getcha some water? Oh, Sportsy, yer eyebags are gettin’ kinda noticeable— When’s the last time you ate? I can— I just went out and got, uhm, some groceries, Sportsy! I’ll cook anythin’ ya want! Sportsy, I’m so glad you’re alright… We should— We should getcha to bed, I know you don’t much like sleepin’, but I swear, I can help ya out— You just seem so tired, Sportsy, I— I can make ya anything you want, I got those ramen noodles I seen ya eat a couple times, and I can cook ‘em for ya no problem! Sportsy, I could make ya some tea Like I remember you drinkin’ wit’ that pink friend a’yours! You’re gonna be okay, Sportsy, I- I missed you so much, Sportsy! I-

>GET OFF OF ME, YOU DOG!

>I- Sp- Sportsy- I’m sorry-

>I don’t care, I don’t care! Don’t touch me you stupid beast!

>Anything! Anything fer you, Sportsy, I’m sorry!

>And quit it with that goddamn nickname!

>… I-

>In fact, just— stop! Stop talking to me, neglect whatever doe eyes you’re about to give me, and shut up!

>…

>Who— Who’s that, in the house, Jack?

[ DAVID IS NOW OPEN FOR ASKS FOR THE NEXT HANDFUL OF POSTS BEFORE HE IS CONDEMNED TO HELL IN HIS WORLD FOREVER! ]

#AKA: he’ll only be available for questions for a certain amount of time! #berate him as you please! #murder salad #gaymurdersalad #salad lore #gaymurderdavid event

[seijorhi]

SHIVER

Inui Seishu x female reader

a Valentine's Day Collab

tw: drugging, yandere & dubcon themes, infidelity

“I feel like I’m losing him, Inupi,” idly you swirl the glass of red he’d poured for you. “And I… I don’t know what I’m supposed to–” for a split second, you glance up – meet his eyes and sheepishness takes over. Your mouth closes, and Inui gets the sense that if he reached over to brush that stray lock of hair back from your cheek, he’d find them burning. 

The corners of his lips twitch. Adorable.

“Sorry, sorry! I know I should just shut up about it. It’s Valentine's Day and I’ve barged in here all miserable and sad– oh god, you probably have plans tonight, or a date or something, right? Of course you do, it’s Valentine’s, and you’re you and…”

You’re rambling again. Partially because that’s what you do when you’re all worked up, but the alcohol’s undoubtedly playing its part. If he let you, you’d keep going ‘til you ran out of steam or embarrassment got the better of you. 

Feeling magnanimous, Inui decides to take pity on you, raising a hand to stop you in your tracks. “I don’t have a date,” he tells you with a small laugh. “And stop apologising. You’re– you’re one of my best friends. You’re upset. Nowhere else I’d wanna be.”

You smile at that. Sad and a little heartbroken, but a smile that makes his heart thud, and when you reach a hand out for him to take, Inui doesn’t hesitate for a second.

He lets you tug him closer, lay your head against his shoulder between mouthfuls of wine. “I don’t know what to do,” you mumble.

The truth of the matter is that you lost Koko a while ago. You both did. The only difference is that Inui accepted that while you’re still with him, trying.

Koko can’t have everything. He made a choice; he chose Izana, and then he chose Mikey. 

You stuck by his side. 

Even after bailing on your date night – on Valentine’s Day, with you all dressed up, pretty and fucking perfect – all but pushing you into Inui’s arms, you’re still trying to cling to the tattered remnants of a relationship that won’t ever make you happy.

Not like he’d make you happy. 

He wonders how long you sat there, waiting. 

“I don’t know what to do.”

Kokonoi loves you. He might do a shitty fucking job of it, but he does, Inui knows that for a fact. And if he were a good friend to either one of you, he’d find a way to reassure you of it. 

Inui’s hand, having drifted to your shoulder, squeezes it once, and he smiles, “You’re almost out,” he nods at your nearly empty glass. “Let me top you up.” He rises then, ignoring your half-hearted protests to take your glass with him back into the kitchen. 

No, he’s perfectly aware that Koko loves you, that’s the problem, see?

In an hour or so, whenever he’s done with whatever bullshit Mikey’s got him dealing with, Koko’s gonna come back to the apartment you two share and find his girlfriend’s gone AWOL. 

Then’ll come the concerned text messages, the phone calls – and even if you ignore those (which you won’t), Koko’s not an idiot. He’ll realise one way or the other that you’ve come here, because who else would you turn to for comfort if not Inupi? 

That’s the way it’s always been. You, him and Koko, all tangled up in the same unforgiving web.

He grabs the bottle of red, unscrews the cap and pours you a full glass. 

Koko’s not stupid. He’s not blind.

You, though… he doubts it’s ever crossed your mind. You’re loyal. Sweet. Entirely too naive, but that’s not completely your fault. How can it be, when keeping you in the dark – protecting you from those nasty, uncomfortable truths – is the only thing he and Koko still agree on?

And Inupi’s played his role without complaint for years now. He’s been a good friend to you both and stayed in his lane.

He eyes the round, white pill in his fingers. He should feel guilty, right? There’s supposed to be a little voice in his head that tells him this is wrong, that he shouldn’t want to do this. 

He waits for it to come, and waits and waits.

…Nothing happens.

Dropping that little white pill into your glass, Inui watches impassively as it fizzes and bubbles until there’s nothing left. No hint or trace. Tasteless. 

“…Inui?” you call out. “You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m coming.”

It’s Valentine’s Day, and for once – he just wants you to stay. 

#yandere tokrev #yandere tokyo revengers #yandere inui #yandere inui seishu #yandere inui seishu x reader #yandere inupi #yandere inui x reader #valenshivers #is the tag we're going with apparently ghfjdkjghvfjds #collab

[kwnnys]

— main 4 fasting for the first time!

hcs : g/n reader a/n : for my muslim brothers nd sisters 🙏🙏 reader is muslim and asks the boys to try fasting w them for ramadan :D

— stan marsh

quite intrigued when you first bring it up, also pretty hesitant to try it

"wait so like- no food or water? for a whole day? are you sure I wont die..."

but with a little bit convincing, stan will eventually agree!

he starts off strong and confident 💪 bragging to the group and telling them all about fasting

but that confidence slowly dies as the hours pass... and poor boy gets so tired

he knows you said that while fasting that you should be as productive as possible, but hes just so tired and drowsy he cant help it 😭

he tries to play basketball with his friends, or even doing his homework. but he just can't focus on anything

he ends up sleeping the rest of the day till iftar

he apologizes and feels so bad 😓, but you tell him its fine since its his first time

I dont' think he'd do it again the next day or anytime soon, but maybe give it a few years and he might be able to fast all 30 days :D

— kyle broflovski

like stan also very intrigued and curious

he'll ask you alot of questions and take a few notes, before ultimately agreeing

hes a little nervous at first, but you manage to ease him with some words of affirmation!

tries to just distract himself for the whole day. studying, chores, video games, etc.

he doesn't make a big deal about it, but is definitely suffering on the inside

tbh the hardest part for him isn't the actual fasting, but not being able to swear or be mad (especially considering kyle has a short temper) 💀

cartman definitley takes advantage of this and calls him every name in the book. also purposely eats infront of him.

"hey stupid jew. look what I've got, a chocolate cake. you want some? oh wait, YOU CANT!" "...I swear to god cartman."

almost broke his fast cause of him. 😭

but anyways, he manages to successfully finish his fast!

he would do it again, maybe in a few days if you asked.

— eric cartman

when you first tell him about fasting and ramadan, he'll literally be SO flabberghasted.

"wait wait wait, so you're telling me you can't EAT or even drink WATER for 30 days? you trying to get me killed or something?"

it'll take alot of convincing to get him to fast with you

alooot of convincing.

but when he eventually agrees, he will be SO dramatic about it and overexaggerates everything

"oh my god, I think Im dying. tell kyel.. I hope he gets cancer.."

refuses to go to school or even get out his room

liane gets very concerned about him, and'll constantly ask you if he'll be okay and won't die

you assure her that its completely fine, especially considering he ate almost half the fridge during suhoor.

he talks to his stuffed animals to try and cope.

tried to secretly eat a piece of candy while you weren't looking 💀you'll have to keep a close eye on him if you want him to actually finish his fast.

he'll definitely hold a grudge against you the whole day and refuse to talk to you.

but don't worry, you make it up to him by taking him to kfc for iftar 😋

bro literally ordered half the menu and gobbled everything up in a matter of minutes.

safe to say he won't be fasting again anytime soon. or ever again,

— kenny mccormick

the only one in the group who manages to fast with little to no problem

kenny doesn't usually eat much food anyway, so hes all down

the hardest part for him is not being able to have 'dirty' thoughts or look at porno magazines 💀

the guys probably don't even notice that kennys fasting since they know kenny usually eat till you or he brings it up

cartman also takes advantage of this and tries to get him to break his fast with money. (which fails cause you're there to shut him off)

doesn't really have a change in his routine or life, he just does what he normally does

you're surprised by how easy hes taking it tbh

when its time for iftar, you decide to invite him over your house to eat :D

hes shocked at all the food you had prepared by you and your parents, and extremely grateful too

that day he had the biggest meal for the first time in probably a few years 😭

definitely took home some leftovers after for his family.

overall he'd definitely wouldn't mind doing it again! especially if it means being able to go to your house to eat again.

#— elys works #south park fluff #south park hcs #stan marsh #stan marsh x reader #kyle broflovski #kyle broflovski x reader #kenny mccormick #kenny mccormick x reader #eric cartman #eric cartman x reader #stan marsh hcs #kyle broflovski hcs #kenny mccormick hcs #eric cartman hcs #south park x you #south park x y/n #south park imagines #platonic south park x reader #ramadan #ramadan 2023

[ray4youknow]

Can you probs do a stan x kyle x sick gn reader whose so fukkin stubborn it drives kyle crazy so he eventually calls stan to take care of them? 😭 if not its ok ill take pete or damien 😻

sure

STAN X KYLE X SICK GN! READER

(This might be bad so please forgive me cuz I really never wrote an oneshot before)

Today I wanted to go out with my friends Kyle, Kenny, Stan and Cartman... but there was a problem... I'm sick and I promised to go to Starks Pond. I'm just laying in bed and I'm bored until...

"I'm going there! Even if I'm sick!" I stood up and immediately felt dizzy, I ignored it and packed my things and went out to Stark Ponds where I saw my friends

Kyle and Kenny waved to me, Stan and Cartman weren't there yet.

"hi y/n" kyle said and smiled at me.

“hi kyle and hi kenny” I said

"Stan and Cartman are coming, fatass really wanted to get KFC," Kenny mumbled.

I laughed a little and immediately felt dizzy again, which Kyle noticed.

"uhmm y/n? could it be that you're sick?"

"huh? what?" I asked him.

"are you sick?" he asked me again.

"No, I never get sick, Kyle" I answered him and coughed.

Kenny and Kyle just gave me worried looks..

“Dude, you should go home and rest,” said Kenny.

"No, I'm not going, I came here to have fun with you guys!"

“y/n it gets worse when you’re like this out here in the cold!” Kyle said.

"I stay here!"

Kyle sighed 

"Good, you wanted it that way... Kenny tell Stan and Cartman that me and Y/N can't come with you guys"

 Kyle said to Kenny and grabbed my arm.

"NO! let go!" 

I tried to free myself from him but his grip was too strong. He didn't say anything and dragged me to my house

he took me to my room.

“lie down y/n” he said.

"I don't want to!" I said stubbornly.

Kyle just looked annoyed at my stubbornness.

“listen y/n if you don’t rest you can’t get better!” he said and threw me (gently) onto the bed.

"Wait a minute" he said and went out of the room..... when he came back after a few minutes he had a spoon full of medicine. "What is that?" I asked Kyle.

"Medicine, and don't argue back!"

"I dont want it "

He just sighed angrily and took out his phone

Kyle tapped his phone and called Stan.

"hey dude, where are you?" Kyle asked.

"I'm at Starks Pond with Kenny and Cartman right now... I heard you two aren't coming. What's wrong?" he asked with concern in his voice.

I sighed.. well Stan... Y/n is sick and refuses to do anything... she/he doesn't want to rest or take her medicine...

“Should I come to you?” Stan asked.

“that’s why I called you... I’m sure you’ll convince y/n.

After half an hour the doorbell rang.

"who is this?" I asked Kyle.

"It's just Stan don't worry."

"Hi guys" Stan said and looked at me worried

"Thank god Stan, she drives me crazy" Kyle said..

"HEY!" I pouted, offended. Stan had to giggle.

“You two are like an old married couple,” Stan joked.

Me and Kyle looked at him like he was an alien or something and blushed a little

"whatever" stan got serious.

“take your medicine y/n”

"How many more times do I want to-"

“y/n!” Stan said sternly...

Come on, why are you all so stupid today?

"Fine..." I sighed... "but it doesn't taste good."

Kyle rolled his eyes "the taste didn't kill anyone"

"You two are so mean!"

“y/n you said you were taking the medicine” stan sighed.

"I've decided, I don't want to-.." I was interrupted by Kyle kissing me (on the cheek (I can change it if you want)) "Shut up and just take it!" he said, blushing. "o-okay" I blushed. Stan just grinned at us. "You two are cute when you blush" he said and kissed us both on the cheek.. "SHUT UP STAN!" we both screamed.

and yes... in the end I took my medication and went to sleep. But I'm not alone because Stan and Kyle watched me all night so nothing happened to me

(I think it’s okay? Sorry if it’s bad, like I said it is my first oneshot and I am also not good about feelings)

#art #fanart #love #cute #cool #south park #cartman #kenny #kyle #stan #fanfiction #fanfic writing #fanfics #south park fanfiction #x reader #female reader #south park x reader #gn reader #writing #writer #sp ray

[trickstarbrave]

the biggest problem with skyrim i see people critiquing it not point out isn't just "the writing is shallow"

i mean it is. but a lot of games have overall shallow writing without that being an issue. sometimes you dont need 90 pages of lore for smth. sometimes simple events can spiral out of control into massive problems. the elder scrolls series definitely has a world so complex though that it should have more interesting and detailed writing, but the biggest problem with skyrim isn't that

the problem is video games are not just writing and a setting. there is game play, themes, characters, and often multiple overlapping stories/plot lines in that setting. And all need to work together as cogs in a machine or the whole thing doesn't fucking work right. it's like making a play, and while i almost fucking failed script analysis in college (dont ask), i do understand that, and how different parts of the experience are weighted as a decisions

skyrim is a game that is heavily weighted towards gameplay and exploration of a setting. its primarily a sandbox game. thats all well and good, a lot of my favorite games are. it is a power fantasy that is (supposed to be) about play choice and agency. and almost nothing in the fucking game actually reinforces and works toward it. in fact it often directly contradicts it.

skyrim tries to bring up a number of themes, especially in the main story quest. stuff like morals, power, how to wield power, what actual justice means, and the nature of violence. and it does absolutely fuck all with it. if i as a dragonborn misuse my power at best i will piss off the guards which literally can happen to anyone. most of the time no matter what i do no npc gives a fuck who i am. i can be the thane of every hold in skyrim, most of the population will still be rude assholes to me.

take paarthurnax. we all hate and bemoan the dilemma we are given. either kill dragon grandpa or be locked out of the blades stuff from now on. it seems like such a stupid choice to the point one of the most popular mods is telling delphine "shut up im in charge". but i think, even if its subconscious for most people so they don't even realize it, the reason this choice is so stupid has nothing to do with the fact we like dragon grandpa (or at least not the whole thing), but because the entire empire is built upon horrific war crime after horrific war crime of emperors with dragon souls. tiber septim did absolutely heinous shit on and off the battlefield. he killed innocents. raped. abused. lied. manipulated. and he never really repented, unlike paarthurnax. what does he get? well after a convoluted scheme we learned about back in daggerfall, he gets to be a whole ass fucking god and gets worshipped. there are potentially elves who remember his reign of terror and being ruthlessly slaughtered and removed from their homes, their cities burned and families killed, all out of greed from this motherfucker. and they are the bad guys for opposing his worship. they are portrayed as cartoonishly evil mass murderers, torturers, schemers, etc etc and at no point do we get a genuinely sympathetic take from a thalmor agent where they list out all of his war crimes and horrible shit he did that still effects them to this day, and to top it all off the empire left them to fend for themselves during the fucking oblivion crisis.

so as delphine bemoans all of paarthurnax's war crimes and horrible things he has done, how no amount of repenting can make up for it and he's too dangerous to leave alive and we should kill him Right Now because what if he, even by accident, succumbs to his nature as an Evil Dragon and does horrible things again, she is also actively defending the horrific, much more recent war crimes of other Evil Dragons just in mortal form. if delphine has a point, then so do the thalmor, but they are just cardboard bad guy elf nazis and the empire can do no wrong.

violence is rewarded time and time again, but THESE characters being violent is bad. because. all dragons are evil and able to be corrupted by power, but the player if they decide to be a massive asshole don't really face that much scrutiny besides ultimate gameplay inconvenience. because this is a sandbox power fantasy! you should make your own choices without being punished! but that means the story about power, the cost of violence, justice, and morals, as well as your greater place in the world can have no gameplay weight. and if it has no weight in the most important part of the experience, then it has no fucking weight at all

i could go on and on. like how the dragons are supposedly intelligent creatures with their own language, culture, customs, and morality system but are basically for most of the game about as smart and engaging as the average bear or wolf you encounter on the road outside of 2-3 dragons in heavily scripted, linear conversations during the story, but we'd be here all day.

#skyrim #tesblr

[nightlilly0110]

Oh my god if I see season 6 come out and I see people be like “poor hawks he wants to join the villains but he has to do what the commission says uwu” I’m gonna fucking lose it.

Not once does this dude actually express the fact that he cares for the villains. “Oh but he was nice to them” ITS CALLED ACTING. HE WAS UNDERCOVER. IF YOU BELIEVED HE WAS ON THE SIDE OF THE LEAGUE GUESS WHAT - YOU BOUGHT IT. YOURE GULLIBLE. THE WHOLE POINT OF HIS MISSION WAS TO MAKE THEM TRUST HIM.

I literally saw someone say recently that Hawks loved Twice. LOVED HIM AND THAT HE WAS A FUCKING TRAGIC HERO FOR HAVING TO KILL HIM!!!! Do you know how fucking stupid that sounds?!

“But he was offering to help rehabilitate them! Twice instigated the fight!” Twice didn’t fight back. Twice also knew that the “rehabilitation” Hawks had in mind was just throwing them all into Tartarus. There is no rehabilitation in the BNHA universe. That’s fanon. I should know because I fucking MADE a rehabilitation au.

“Twice’s quirk was dangerous! He had to get rid of him!” Again. Twice wasn’t fighting back. He tried to run and was LITERALLY STABBED IN THE BACK. He was escaping. He was trying to get away.

“But if he’s a dangerous criminal! Hawks had to protect himself and others!” POLICE/HEROES SHOULDNT SHOOT UNARMED PEOPLE! POLICE/HEROES SHOULDN’T SHOOT GUILTY PEOPLE EITHER! POLICE/HEROES SHOULDNT SHOOT ANYONE! AND IF YOU TRULY WANTED TO REHABILITATE THIS PERSON YOU WOULDNT FUCKING KILL THEM!

“Hawks had no other choice. The Commission-” Hey. Hey. Look at me. If someone tells you to do something, you don’t have to do it. It’s called free will. I will admit he was probably abused and brainwashed by the Commission. But like. This dude does not change his tune. He does not want to break free of the Commission. He doesn’t struggle with following his orders. We’re talking about the dude who said that he’d “corrupt himself” for the good of the mission. He’s fine where he is. He’s a goddamn lapdog. He’s a huge contrast to Lady Nagant, who was actually remorseful at what the Commission made her do and tried to quit (and was punished for it).

“Dabi just let Twice die!” Dabi attacked Hawks to help Twice escape but failed. It was not his intention to let Twice die.

“But he was filming it to frame Hawks!” He wanted footage to prove Hawks was a bad person in general. That was the footage he happened to get.

“Dabi abused Hawks.” Just attacking someone is not abuse. Abuse occurs when one party has a position of power over the other. Dabi was just attacking him. And if you have a problem with him attacking people, I hate to break it to you - it’s a shonen manga. With people literally labelled as heroes and villains. There has to be conflict and Hawks literally just killed a man. I think Dabi can attack people if he wants to.

“Dabi was happy Twice died! He was laughing!” Dabi says with his own damned mouth that he can’t cry. He’s also been shown to, even before he was Dabi and when he was Touya, smile when being hurt. Touya, you know, the kid with an abusive father. The kid that wanted so much attention from his abusive father that he repeatedly hurt himself to “make him stronger” and would then smile to hide his pain. Dabi smiling at Twice’s death isn’t because he’s happy. He’s grieving and he can’t cry. (Side note: Shigaraki also smiles when in pain.)

Enough about Hawks.

(Also can we talk about the fact that Dabi called out Endeavour for his behaviour and Best Jeanist told him to shut up and keep “personal matters” off of tv and when Endeavour admitted to the child abuse Burnin basically said there’s no proof?)

#long post #crow grumbles #rant #salt #bnha salt #anti hawks #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #I’ll keep the comments active on this post for now #I’ll probably have to turn them off #can’t wait for the hate on this one

[hymemena]

100 Gecs (2023 Album) 10,000 Gecs Sentence Starters

Feel free to change pronouns as necessary, and remember to specify muse for multimuse blogs.

CW: Drug use, drugs, death, religious themes, smoking, mental health, food, sensory problems, guns, weapons, threats, death threats, stalking, murder, abuse, injury, violence, insomnia, cursing

—

Dumbest Girl Alive

"If you think I'm stupid now, you should see me when I'm high."

"I'm smarter than I look."

"I'm the dumbest girl alive."

"Never ask me what I think."

"Money coming from my eyes."

"I'm so happy I could die!"

"Put emojis on my grave."

"Yeah, I'll fuckin' text you back."

757

"Yeah, I'll never go to Heaven."

"I've been smokin' since eleven."

"I got problems with my spending."

"Doing eight in a thirty."

"I'm never in a hurry."

"Everybody wanna party!"

"Wish that I was more discerning."

"Where's the water?"

"Today I'm feeling pitiful."

"I'm taking things too literal when it was hypothetical."

"Now, I'm whining over nothing."

Hollywood Baby

"What you crying about, Baby?"

"Did you get the payment?"

"We had an arrangement."

"Do you wanna party?"

"So go pitch your fit, no one gives a shit."

"I'm going crazy."

"Do you buckle under pressure?"

"You'll never make it in Hollywood, Baby."

Frog On The Floor

"Where'd he come from?"

"Nobody knows."

"He's been chillin' in the basement for a minute."

"It's time we move into the kitchen."

"Make him feel safe."

"Frog on the floor."

"Hey, yeah, I heard you met my friend the other weekend."

"He got on his front legs and did a keg stand."

"The party got real."

"He was chasing flies around."

"Give him some space, he's still workin' it out."

"He doesn't know what people think about."

"He gets the party jumping."

Doritos & Fritos

"Okay, I went to France."

"I went to Greece to get something to eat."

"I'm hard to please."

"Okay, I saw the beach."

"It's one hundred degrees."

"I'll swim in the ocean."

"The TV's tuned to cable."

"I'm sleeping when I'm able."

"The TV's on so loud it hurts my brain."

"I'm eating burritos."

"Jeez Louise, I'm weak in the knees."

"I'm joining the circus."

"I'm lying to strangers."

"I'm looking for danger!"

Billy Knows Jamie

"-Muse- got a gun."

"-Muse-'s gonna kill me, think I need to run."

"-Muse- is kinda scary when he's lookin' at you."

"Run!"

"I've heard it all before."

"He's like a movie star."

"They say he's so deranged."

"Bought mace to keep me safe."

"It's not enough to stay away."

"He knows my house and he knows my name."

"I'm in the closet scared."

"He's kicking down the door."

One Million Dollars

"One million dollars."

"I'm a marijuana addict."

"Fuck you!"

The Most Wanted Person In The United States

"I turned on the news."

"I turned on the news and it said that I was the number one most wanted person in the United States."

"Yeah, I'm a real killer."

"I just killed -muse- and then I ate his dinner."

"I took his car."

"I took his car and I crashed it in the river."

"I was born in the winter."

"Hot like the summer."

"Don't cry to me."

"Don't cry to me, I'm not your mother."

"Everybody shuts the fuck up when I'm passing."

"I'm laughing 'cause shit's so funny."

"Oh, is it hot like that?"

"Yeah, it's hot like that."

"Don't need to ask me."

I Got My Tooth Removed

"You were tough."

"You were unforgiving."

"Made me cry all the time."

"You were mean, such an asshole."

"I had to say goodbye."

"I don't wanna talk about it ever again."

"My head's like a ton of bricks."

"This dumb bitch still learns new tricks."

"I woke up and was down horrendous."

"I think I need to see a dentist."

"Praying to a fuckin' God I'll never be."

"If it's gonna fix itself, I guess it's just as well."

"It doesn't hurt me every day so I just let it get away."

"I'll deal with it another day."

"I guess that day just never came."

"I don't know what to do."

"My cheek swelled up twice its size."

"Playing Operation with a safety pin."

"Looking up home remedies."

"I'm staring at the ceiling, counting seconds 'til I get to sleep."

"That shit didn't work."

"I promised you, honest, tried my hardest."

mememe

"Back once again."

"You'll never really know."

"You'll never really know anything about me."

"No, you'll never really know anything."

"When we were together I tried to tell you."

"I used to tap dance when I was in choir."

"I broke my arm when my -parent- crashed a go-kart."

"I tried on your lipstick, I thought I looked pretty."

"You're always so busy."

"You're always so busy so you never hear me."

"Do I sound like a joke when I'm talking to you?"

"I take it back."

"You say so many things."

"I'll laugh too fucking hard."

"You probably think I'm so mean."

"I don't even know you."

"I guess it's such an easy game."

"Could you explain it all away?"

"OK, bet, I forget."

"I don't think I'll pretend it's cool."

#lyric starters #lyric prompts #lyric meme #lyric rp meme #lyric rp starter #lyric writing prompts #music prompts #music meme #music rp meme #roleplay memes #roleplay starters #writing prompts #writing prompt #rp memes #rp starters #roleplay prompts #rp prompts #rp resources #roleplay resources

[imgnnafurgf]

Hi guys I never used Tumblr for real but I get super obsessed with farcry5 so from now on I'll be shit posting about this game and call John Seed my husband because this is fucking Tumblr and no one can find me here lmao (if you actually know me in real life BLOCK me this page is my embarrassment) (Dream, you're fine, thanks for always listening my voice messages about John Seed buddy)

Facts about me you should know:

— My name is Alex

— My last name is actually Seed because John and me are married

— I'm not fluent in English and this is YOUR problem

— I'm writing stupid songs about stupid people who broke my stupid heart

— Live laugh love Noah Kahan

— I once lied to my parents that I messed up with buying tickets on a train and this is why I'm late for like 27 (woopsie) hours but in fact I went to another city where I wasn't allowed to go because tf?? I wanted to and no dad I don't give a shit about bombs falling there why would I?

— If you're still struggling to guess where the fuck am I from according to the last fact well I'm Ukrainian surprise

— I love prunes. That means I'm old and you know that.

— Okay if someone is worried I'm actually 18. Kids don't follow me (I'M LYING PLEASE DO)

— I'm bisexual and this is why my husband is John Seed and my wife is his sister- ok I'm gonna shut up rn (no I love talking about myself)

— If you wanna text me cuz well you know I'm cool and you wanna be friends DO IT I'll probably answer and we'll be talking about farcry5 for hours

— I have a plushie that looks like something between cat and bat and its name is John Seed

— I ship Jacob and Pratt (god forgive me)

— I'm Joseph's hater okay let's set it straight HE'S GUILTY FOR MY BABY'S DEATH

— When I'm billionaire I'm making farcry5 serie and playing deputy

— Yeah I'm actually a theatre kid so this IS my dream work

— I currently live in Canada

— Sharky is my beloved (and in fact my fav character)

#far cry 5 #pratt jacob #john seed #joseph seed #jacob seed #faith seed #far cry new dawn #deputy rook #nick rye #sharky boshaw #staci pratt #joey hudson

[hellhound-whisperer]

Welcome home, sweetheart

Pairing | Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings | mentions of past abusive relationship, angst then fluff, implication of smut

Word count | 757

Prompt | “Nobody’s seen you in days.”

A/N | I wanted to write, so I wrote this little bit. Just kind of went where it was going to go. Hope you like it anyway!

Summary | Set sometime in s4, Dean comes back from dealing with an angel problem, and Y/N is not happy she was left behind.

As soon as you shut the door, you could sense him somewhere close, his anger evident even though you didn’t see him yet. You walked into Bobby’s kitchen, finding Dean on one of the chairs at the table, boots propped up on its surface, hands folded in his lap.

“Welcome home, sweetheart,” he said, gravelly voice and all. You rolled your eyes, and saw Dean’s jaw twitch.

“Don’t sweetheart me,” you warned, walking to the fridge, grabbing a single beer, and popping it open while looking him straight in those stupid, gorgeous green eyes.

He unclasped his hands, stretching his arms out on either side of his frame. “My apologies. Welcome home, Y/N. Care to share where you’ve been?”

You shrugged, taking a long drink. “Not really.” His boots hit the floor with a loud thud, and he leaned forward.

“You’ve got a little something there,” he pointed to his own cheek, and you frowned. You’d been hoping the lack of light in the room would cover the bruise near your eye.

“Tripped. Happy?” You finished the rest of the beer in one gulp, and slammed it on the table, walking right up to him, though you still had to look up; stupid man was still a head taller than you.

“Happy?” he asked, face turning into a look of disgust. “Happy? Nobody has seen you in days! Bobby’s worried sick, I was wor…”

“Worried? You? That’s fuckin’ hilarious,” you spit back.

He actually looked shocked, taking a step back. “Hilarious? Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me? I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” His voice rose, continuing, “I thought you might be dead, or captured, or God knows what else!” His face was right back in yours, lips so close you had to remember why you were angry in the first place, why you took off from Bobby’s to that shithole bar.

A couple responses ran through your head, and you landed on a cheap shot. “Didn’t look that hard then. I doubt I was hard to spot at one of the only bars in this town.”

Again, his jaw twitched. “So that was him then?” Dean asked, pointing to your face, his voice softening. You sighed, knowing exactly who he was talking about. You had an asshole of an ex that still hung around town, which is one of the reasons you usually didn’t visit the bars around Bobby’s.

“He didn’t like that I told him to go to hell when he tried to get me to come home with him.” You saw Dean’s fist clench from the corner of your eye. “I left after breaking his nose. Wasn’t ready to come back here yet, so I stayed with Rufus for a couple days after, enjoying the top shelf.”

You saw Dean’s shoulders relax just a fraction, his fingertips ghosting softly over the damage. “You should have called me.”

“You shouldn’t have tried to leave me behind ‘for my own safety,’” your fingers raised to make air quotes, but Dean’s hands met yours, threading his fingers through yours, squeezing slightly.

“Fair enough. I’ve never gone up against an angel before, I was…” his eyes searched yours, begging for forgiveness, “scared. I’m sorry, Y/N. I know you can handle yourself, you always have. It’s just, since coming back from Hell, and you and I finally getting together, I worry.” He cupped your face gently in his hands, pressing a kiss to your lips before you could answer, hoping that would show you how much he cared for you. “Even more than I used to.”

You sighed again, running your hands in his short hair and tugging slightly. He groaned, and you took your chance, crashing your lips back together. When you finally parted for a breath, you pulled him to you, foreheads resting against one another.

“I know, Dean. I really do. But I’ve been doing this just as long as you have; remember that next time, okay?” His eyes closed, his way of agreeing. You tapped the back of his head roughly, unable to give him a real slap from your position. “I still love you, jackass.”

His mock shock turned into his patented Dean-Winchester-smile. “I love you too, sweetheart.”

His hands ran down your back to your thighs, and you jumped up, wrapping your legs around his waist. “Now, how’re you going to make it up to me?”

He gave your ass a squeeze. “Got a few ideas,” he smirked, walking you out the door to the Impala, so your noises wouldn’t wake Sam and Bobby.

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester angst #angst then fluff #dean x hunter!reader #mine

[minisugakoobies]

Something | MYG

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: smut, crack, DadYoongi!AU, BadCop!AU

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: swearing, kissing, use of restraints, mention of choking, reference to previous sex, blood, allusions to murder, Yoongi is not a good guy here (ymmv)

Word Count: 1.1k

Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own BTS - they just inspire me

Summary: His hand rises of its own accord, seeking the soft skin of your cheek. Craving one last gentle touch before…. “This could’ve been something, you know.” 

A/N: Another installment in the BadCop!AU! OC's about to find out what happens when you fuck with Yoongi's money. Spoiler alert: nothing good.

Unbeta’d as usual. I’d love to know what you think - my inbox is always open! 💕

Part 2 💵 Bad Cop Masterlist 💵 Part 4

“Please! You don’t have to do this.” 

Yoongi finishes binding your wrists to the back of the wooden chair, ignoring your pleas. Stupid. How could he be so fucking stupid?

He whips out his mobile phone from his silk pajama pants pocket and presses a button. A click and a voice. 

“Jimin. I’m going to need a cleanup. Yeah. At home.” 

He snaps the phone shut and sets it on his workbench. Thank god his daughter is sleeping over at a friend’s house tonight, so he can take care of this mess quickly. 

You try again. “Let’s just talk this out. No one needs to get hurt, okay?”

Ha. Too fucking late. 

Yoongi should’ve listened to his head when he met you. It told him you were too good to be true. But no, he’d listened to his dick. And then to his–

“Please. Yoongi.” Your voice is remarkably steady. Probably your training kicking in. The Bureau did a bang-up job with you, Yoongi thinks sullenly. “Listen to me. You can cut a deal. I want to help you. Trust me.” 

You screech as Yoongi suddenly spins in the cramped garage, tossing all the tools cluttering his workbench to the ground with one sweep of his arm. The metal instruments clang on the cement floor as you stare wide-eyed in fear. He sneers as he stalks towards you, bare chest heaving. 

“Trust you?! Are you fucking kidding me?!” He drops to his knees and grabs your ankles, yanking on the rope to tie them tighter to the chair. His face hovers above yours. A scorching fury radiates from him in waves, burning the words forming on your lips to ash. “I did trust you! And look what happened!”

Why had he kept that safe in the house? When he’d awoken to an empty bed, a horrible sinking feeling had stolen over him. He thought for a moment that it had happened again, that he’d been left behind once more. The sight of you in his study brought relief, but it was fleeting. 

As most good things in his life are.

“It was only a matter of time!” you shout, calm replaced by anger, leaning forward, nose bumping against his, making him recoil. “Someone was going to catch you eventually! Why not me? Why not someone who cares about you and Da-”

“Don’t,” he growls, nearly spitting in his rage. “Don’t you fucking say her name.” Everything he did was for his daughter. You could never understand. You didn’t deserve to understand. And you didn’t deserve to even speak her name anymore.

"If you kill me, that won't kill the investigation." Your voice is composed again, but your lip quivers as you speak.

Yoongi smirks, a cold smile that comes nowhere near reaching his eyes. "You just don't get it," he growls. "I run this fucking town. I'm the one with the money. I'm the one with the power. I just need to make you disappear. Then I'll pay a few people in the right places to make this investigation disappear, too."

He didn’t get to where he is without learning which palms to grease. Now that his biggest competition is out of the way, the money’s streaming in so steadily that he should have no problem getting out of this. If he can just do what he needs to do next. 

But he can’t stop thinking about earlier tonight. The expression on your face as he came apart inside you. The way you’d fallen asleep in his arms, sighing his name contentedly. Had any of it been real? Fuck, he’d been such an epic fool, to believe that he could be the king, and provide for Da-som, and maybe, maybe even find l-

He can’t let himself finish the thought, snarling as he reaches out and lays his long fingers around your throat like a heavy collar, thumbs slipping easily into the notch of your collarbones. Only mere hours ago you’d begged him to choke you as he fucked you towards oblivion. You’re trembling now, as you did then, but Yoongi knows it’s a different kind of anticipation. 

“Wait. Please.” He feels your breath catch under his fingertips. “Please.” 

“I can’t let them take her away from me,” he explains, heated glare meeting your frantic gaze, and you nod. 

“I know. But please… Yoongi… I can help you. It doesn’t have to end like this.” 

But it does. Because he knows that if he goes along with you, and turns himself in and strikes a deal, he’ll still lose Da-som. Even if they can stay together, once he confesses, she’ll know exactly who he is. What he is. And she’ll never look at him the same way again. 

He can’t lose her love. If he loses that, he’ll truly have nothing.

“No, I’m afraid it does.” His hand rises of its own accord, seeking the soft skin of your cheek. Craving one last gentle touch before…. “This could’ve been something, you know.” 

“I know,” you repeat softly, a sad echo, and before he loses his nerve, Yoongi kisses you. He tastes salt on your lips, feels a shudder pass through you, and he breaks away, lowering his head. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“So am I,” you reply, and he can’t stop himself from peering at you again, heart jolting at the regret he finds reflecting in your eyes. “For this.” 

CRACK

“You bitch!” Yoongi’s hands fly to his nose. Blood streams from his nostrils, veins cut by broken bone thanks to your headbutt. The pain is blinding, but his wrath moreso. With a mad howl, he lunges for you, but you merely crack him again, forehead to forehead. This time, he goes down. 

Inhaling desperately, you watch his prone body for a moment before you start to rock, working up some momentum before throwing yourself onto your back. The chair doesn’t smash completely as you’d hoped, but the back does break off enough for you to slip the rope under the rungs. Contorting your body, you manage to slide your constrained arms under your ass and then bend forward until your chest is pressed against your thighs. As soon as you can feel the rope around your ankles with your fingertips, you work the knot loose enough to slip your feet free.

Kicking the remnants of the chair away, you crawl towards Yoongi’s phone. Bound hands fumble through his contacts until you find the name you need. A click and a voice.

“Sir?” The voice is confused. “Is everything okay?”

“It’s not Yoongi. It’s me.” 

Yoongi moans, stirring slightly, and you hold your breath until he stills again. 

“We need to move.”

© 2022-23 by sunshinerainbowsbts/minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost.

Masterlist 💜��Find me on AO3 💜 

TAGLIST: @inlovewiththemoonn; @likeshatteredrainbowglass; @tittystardust; @vyduan; @augustbutwinter; @hesperantha; @sugalaritae; @babycoffeefire; @parkdatjimin; @reliablemitten; @yuugehn; @ut-dixisti; @seokjinger-ale; @bangtanintotheroom; @taeshuworld; @nch327; @hannahbee12719ficrecs; @7minsuga96; @dvalitaes; @wonieclub; @thatlongspringnight; @miscelunaaa; @minttangerines

#ficscafe #ksmutclub #bangtanarmynet #btswritingcafe #btshoneyhive #thebtswritersclub #min yoongi smut #yoongi smut #yoongi x you #min yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #min yoongi x reader #bts smut #yoongi fanfic #min yoongi fanfic #bts fanfic #possumswrite #fic: something #badcop!au