ugly sobbing because they can never be

Hurtful Honesty (Part 1)

A/N: Warning - there is mention of death and it can be a really sensitive topic. Please, do not read if you will find it disturbing and uncomfortable.

Being framed for a crime is terrifying, but being forgotten as a friend is far worse. Ever since the death of Jane, Jinyoung began to affiliate with the group of friends her brother frequents with. It used to be just the three of us, but I guess it’s true that death can do us apart even in friendship.

Keep reading

(spoilers for pinestar’s choice ahead)

okay but if you’ve ever had a pet who has died, you can’t tell me that you didn’t get at least a bit emotional at the end of pinestar’s choice when he goes to live with shanty’s old housefolk

and when he walks in, the entire house still smells like shanty and there are still the toys that she played with and he goes and lays down in shanty’s bed, which is still covered in her scent

and her housefolk are so so so happy that another cat is there and the hole in their heart is just a tiny bit smaller. they can’t stop petting him. they feed him because they still have shanty’s cat food.

it was legitimately one of the most emotional moments in the entire warriors series for me, as somebody who has had pets pass away before, and now has an older dog and a cat that is approaching old age. i was actually sobbing. not just crying, but loud, ugly sobbing. i couldn’t stop thinking about how it felt to be shanty’s housefolk in that moment.

it was a theme that the warriors series has never touched upon before (how real the bond can be between an owner and their pet, and how the twolegs feel emotion just like the cats do) and even though i’m sad, i’m really glad it happened

Mrs.Potato Head

 ( This imagine includes mild body hate, so be warned” )  

(Y/N)’s P.O.V

I just got back from my match against Carmella and I’m so happy I picked up the victory against her. As I’m walking towards the locker room I’m stopped by my boyfriend Dean Ambrose who has a water bottle in his hands.

“Hey babygirl , here ya go I’m so proud of you for winning tonight” he says while handing me the water bottle.

“Thanks babe, go get a victory tonight” I say while kissing him on the lips.

At that Dean leaves for the Main Event against AJ Styles and I go to the locker room.

“Hey girl, Congrats on winning your match tonight!’ Naomi says while closing her luggage.

“Thanks Naomi” I say. “ Ummmmm where is everyone?” I say while looking around the empty locker room. 

“ All the girls left with there guys and friends to get a head start to get to the next town quicker” she says as she walks towards me. “Actually I’m supposed to go meet Jimmy at the car right now so I’ll see you at the live event tommorow” Naomi says as she gives me a hug. Then she walks out the door

At that I’m the only person in the Women’s locker room.

I decide to shower at the arena to save me time and after I put on a pair of black sweatpants and one of Dean’s shirts that I stole from his suitcase and decide to just wait for Dean in his locker room.

I get pretty bored so I decide to go thru social media, I open up Instagram and see WWE tagged me in a photo that they took of me before my match with Carmella. I decide to read the comments, something I almost never do.



“ (Y/N) is my idol , I love her so much” 

I saw a lot of comments like these which made me smile, I have the best fans in the world. Suddenly I see other comments.

“ (Y/N) is such a ring rat, she sleeps her way to the top”

_“ It looks like she put on some weight #workoutfatty” _

_“The only reason she was drafted from NXT was because of who she’s dating” _

_“She has no boobs or butt whatsoever” _

_“ Ugliest person I’ve ever laid my eyes on” _

_“Her whole career is a joke” _

_“ Dean and Renee are better! #DeanneFOREVER _

_“ She needs to get some plastic surgery or something to make her better looking if that’s even possible, maybe then Dean won’t leave her for someone better” _

Ouch.  That last one stung really hard. 

It was recently where I had learned to love myslef and that’s thanks to Dean. But is this what people really think of me?.

I shyly make my way towards the mirror and check myself out.

“No boobs or butt”

“I have gained weight, Jesus I can never be healthy” 

“ I hate the scars on my face, they make me look like a freak” 

“What if I only got drafted because of Dean” 

“Ring rat?, I’ve only dated 1 person from this company” 

“Maybe I can’t wrestle” 

“I’m so ugly and disgusting” 

This goes on for about 5 minutes.

Without even realising I feel tears streaming my face, I haven’t felt this bad about myself since high school. Then I break and I let out a sob.

“Hey baby I’m back-” Dean says as he walks in the locker room.

“Woah Woah Woah!!!, what happened?” he says as comes over and sees me crying, he quickly wipes my tears away and pulls me in hug.

His question is quickly answered as he hears my phone buzzing and then he walks over to it unlocking my phone.

I see him open up Instagram and he quickly skims thru the comments.

“Baby, I thought we agreed you wouldn’t check the comments” he says walking towards me.

“But they’re right Dean about everything!, I’m ugly, fat, I have no body shape whatsoever and you can have someone better than me!” I say , a few tears escaping. “These are just a bunch of jealous people with nothing better to do” Dean says carresing my face. “Come ‘ere” Dean says while taking my hand in his.

We walk back infront of the mirror. He puts his arms around me and his head ontop of mine.

“Tell me what you don’t like about yourself” he says kissing my shoulder.

“I’ve put on weight” I say with sad face.

Slowly he lifts up my shirt a bit just to see my stomach.

“Those abs say otherwise, plus I see no weight gain”

“Well I think I have a boy body”

“Are you kidding me? You have so many beautiful curves which I love”

“ I hate the scars on my face”

“Those scars are the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, It shows everyone my women is tough and badass, plus they’re reminders of your old wrestling days back in indie promotions and plus they’re not that bad and big”

:”I have no boobs or butt”

“You have a perfect body, your boobs are a perfect size; not to small or big and your butt was crafted by the God’s” he says while giving it a little tap. This makes me smile and laugh.

“Oh God, there’s that beautiful smile I fell in love with” Dean says while kissing the top of my head. “ Anything else?” he asks.

“Well I can’t wrestle and I don’t desereve you” I say in a hushed tone.

“That is bullshit, you can wrestle; there’s a reason you were the longest reigning NXT Women’s Champion , 367 days if I’m correct?.” Dean says.

“Andddd I don’t deserve you, you’re way to good to me YOU deserve better”. Dean says.

“That’s not true, I love you and I don’t want anybody else” I say while turning around a putting my arms over his shoulders standing on my tippy toes while kissing his nose.

“Well good you think that way because I’m never letting you go, you’re stuck with me forever” he says with a smile showing off his adorable dimples.

“I don’t plan on going anywhere” I say as I give him a peck on the lips.

“Do you feel better?” Dean says

“A little bit” I say.

“I’ll take that , just promise you won’t go thru comments again?” he says.

“I promise” I say while extending my pinky which Dean gladly accepts.

“If you ever need a pep talk , come talk to me; as you’re boyfriend it’s my pleasure to remind you how perfect you are” he says kissing my forehead.

“Alright you ready to go?” Dean asks.

“Yeah, just let me go get my luggage” I say.

As I’m walking to my luggage I see more notifications of comments being posted, so I decide to turn my phone off.

“Alrighty I’m ready” I say with a smile walking back to Dean.

“Ok baby, let’s hit the road!” Dean says taking my luggage.

I really am a lucky girl.

Originally posted by temomi

Excuse me while I brainstorm.

Imagine Oikawa as a physical therapist, focusing mainly on high school/college athletes, because come on. He never grew out of that childishly cunning phase.

Cue Iwaizumi having to come into the hospital and Oikawa is assigned to him because he’s free and he specializes in looking at the type of injury Iwaizumi has. Cue, their first meeting and Oikawa suppresses his reflexive thought of “hot dayum.”

Did I mention this is omega verse? Although I want to take a slight twist on it. The whole idea of alpha/beta/omega isn’t assigned from birth; it’s almost like a puberty thing, just that this begins to solidify in late teens/early twenties, when growth begins to stop. You might notice an inclination towards one type during childhood, but you don’t know for sure until the mark begins to appear on your skin. A under the collarbone, B generally on the thigh, and omega right above the hip bone.

Also, I like to think that the whole a/b/o dynamic is not really significant physically, but rather, mentally. For alphas, there is that primal instinct to dominate–rather, it should be to “take care of,” which may translate into “protective.” For omegas, there’s that dormant desire to submit–rather, to feel secure, to “belong to.” For betas, there’s that content complacency to /be/. They tend to be more mentally and/or emotionally stable, because they feel less urge on the instinctual level. What’s interesting, though, is that betas have the widest range of assertive inclination. Some may be more like alphas, some like omegas, and some just float through society completely content on being neither and being by themselves.

So Iwaizumi is an alpha. He has that inherent drive to protect, and it’s strikingly obvious that’s what he is.

Oikawa, on the other hand, is more tricky. Most would guess he’s a beta because he never seems to be interested in getting into a serious relationship–entirely in his element to flirt and that’s it–and some might even guess he’s an alpha from how poised he is during work and how well he cares for his patients.

Sometimes, though, just sometimes, there would be a select few who can pinpoint exactly what Oikawa is. And that’s what happens when Iwaizumi meets him. Unbeknownst to Iwaizumi, he immediately knew Oikawa was an omega and the protectiveness he feels over him stems from that, in the beginning.

Oikawa, of course, hates the idea that some stupid biological gene determines what he /desires/, so he suppresses his omega instincts as much as possible. He’s the type to think the whole pairing thing is bull shit. Especially in this modern day and age.

Cue Iwaizumi awkwardly trying to court him and Oikawa finding it absolutely adorable and endearing (because come on, who isn’t swayed by an entirely sculpted man, slightly shorter than you, averting his eyes with a deep frown and slight blush on his face, asking if you’d be free for ramen after your shift?).

Cue sex-repulsed omega Oikawa.

Cue possibly breakdowns in the middle of foreplay and feelings of inadequacy and heavy tension and almost break-ups and ugly-Oikawa-crying and gentle Iwaizumi and /really/ gentle and Alpha Iwaizumi taking care of Tooru-who-can-never-admit-the-truth.

Cue forehead kisses and sobbing hiccups and Oikawa clinging onto Iwa-chan’s shirt.

Damn, I’m fucked.


Vaneeleanor Appreciation Week :: Day 2
↳ Favorite Moment 

“You will turn on absolutely anyone, won’t you? So what’s the plan? Leave me to answer for this among the men? Assume they’ll tear me to pieces for granting access to the woman who stole the girl out from under us? My death sentence? Listen to me clearly. Put down that key, walk back through that gate, return the girl, and I will sort this with the men. You have my word. But lock that gate and there is no walking back through it, ever. And I assure you, you will hear from me again.

Don't Leave Me (Again)

(timeline: future, when exactly is up to you; pairing: DE)

He’s there.

Elena can’t explain how she knows it, but she feels his presence with so much certainty as if she could see him.

It’s not enough to fill the aching void in her chest – nothing is, because she knows he’s not there to stay.

“Please, don’t leave me,” she chokes out through tears she feels like she’ll never stop crying. This isn’t happening, she says on repeat in her mind, this can’t be happening. She can’t lose him, not now that she finally knows. After everything they’ve been through, she finally understands that none of it matters – not their fights, not people’s judgment, not how right or wrong it is to be with him. What matters is that she can only envision one kind of her future – a future with Damon.

Now, she sees none.

He’s still around, and it hurts, because it means that he doesn’t want to leave her, either, that he wants to keep his word. I will make it back to you. I will never leave you again. Words that meant so much and don’t mean anything any more.

I have to keep myself in check, Elena reminds herself in panic, I have to be strong for him. Somehow, it only makes her cry harder – ugly, suffocating sobs that wreck her insides and make her feel sick.

“I love you, Elena.”

Maybe she only imagines he said it. Maybe she’s hearing things, hallucinating, going crazy faster than she expected. But it doesn’t even matter, because she knows it’s true.


The rest of her words is muffled by her sobs, and she takes a deep breath, because she has to try again.

“…love you, Damon. Always.”

Not that her always – her eternity – means something now that she has to spend it alone.

Just like that, she doesn’t feel him any more.

“No.” She drops on her knees on the hard stone floor. “No!”


She jolts awake in her bed, instinctively following the voice. Her heart is racing uncontrollably, breathing erratic, and as she moves, she feels she’s sweating.

 “Ssh, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

 She hides her face against his chest, reaching out to trace his face with shaky hands. He presses her closer and caresses her hair, arms, back, waiting for her heartbeat and breathing to calm.

“That nightmare again.” He isn’t asking – he knows.

“Yeah,” she breathes and pulls back slightly to give him a long, tender kiss. He responds in kind, lips moving with hers in an easy, unhurried rhythm.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers between kisses, and Elena smiles against his lips.

“It’s okay. We survived it.” She pulls him on top of her, wrapping her arms and legs around him, holding him as close as she can. Almost. Those promises did mean something, after all. They mean everything. “Just don’t die on me again, okay?”

Damon nods and kisses her, and that’s all she needs.    

Water and Flame

@drarrysgirl ;)

All eight years share one dorm. There aren’t many returning students, so they share one room for all the boys, one for all the girls and a small common room in between.
This is where Draco wakes up from a particularly strange nightmare. Well, from ‘the strange nightmare’ actually.
Its starts with the sensation of pooling water, collecting all around his body. At first it’s nice, like being in a bath or wading in a pool, but everything is dark. Everything is dark and then with a sudden intake of breath Draco realizes, he is dying. The cool hardness of tile below him, water splashes by his side and he hears frantic “No! No! I didn’t-” All too quickly the blood turned into flames and he was burning, he was dying and everything around him was hot, hot ash, filling up his nose and lungs. A hand danced before him, yet every time he tried to reach out for it, it danced out of reach and once again he was dying.
When Draco wakes up this time he doesn’t mind so much. Everyone here gets nightmares, it isn’t like it was the first month or so back, where everyone tried to hide it. It’d had all ended one night when Thomas had gotten up sighed exasperatingly and gotten into Finnegan’s bed where he proceeded to soothe him back to sleep. They’d shared the same bed every night since and since then no one has had to hide their nightmares from anyone else.
Draco got up and went to the bathrooms directly opposite the door. He liked to shower afterwards, afterwards he just felt so wound up. Tonight he had a hot shower, tonight the memory of Myrtle’s bathroom got to him more, other nights he’d cool off from the Fiendfyre by sitting under the cold. Some nights neither worked.
He put the water up high, until it burnt, turning his pale skin red. His eyes felt like they’d been crying, puffy even under the flow of the water. He arched his back, stretching into the glorious heat of the water. He should stay here, under the water forever. He tilted his head back, craning his neck to allow more water, more heat, more…
A noise startled him, by the door. He wasn’t exactly modest, boarding school stripped that away, so he stood there in all his nudity.
When he noticed just who the intruder to his shower was he wished he had covered up.
“I’ll just-” He mumbled, fumbling with the taps forgetting just which way they went. “I’ll go. I uh- OH SHIT!” Suddenly the water was really, really, really cold and he was immediately shivering.
“Here,” Harry said, coming over to the taps to turn them off. “Fuck that’s cold!”
Draco nodded in return, holding a hand over his penis, leaving as quickly as possible as one could whilst trying not to look at the Savior in only his trunks.
The next night Draco woke up with tears in his eyes. He tried to wipe them away but found himself breaking down completely, holding onto his eyes with the heel of each palm. Wiping excess tears with his inner wrists.
He had a cold shower that night and found himself crying again before he was done. Just as he had turned off the taps and wrapped himself up with his towel, Potter had come in again.
“You alright?” He asked, giving him a backward glance.
“Yeah, fine thanks.” Draco replied roughly. When he went back to sleep, it was dreamless.

The next night Harry was already there, showering in his full glory and Draco gaped for a while before turning to leave him to it.
“What is it for you?”
“Excuse me?” Draco cries too suddenly for himself to reign in.
“For me, it’s the night my godfather died. Sometimes it’s all the bodies after it was all over looking back at me, like I didn’t do it all fast enough to save them.” Harry explained, rubbing sudsy soap up and down his chest.
“It’s okay, it’s private, I get it.” Harry cut in quickly, looking back down at what he was doing, letting water soak water all over his messy hair, smoothing it out somewhat. Draco couldn’t help but find it distracting.
“It’s uh, it’s actually. Um… “ Draco trails. Harry catches him with a glance, he doesn’t look much different without his glasses on but the green in his eyes pierce him, tethering him to the spot. “You-actually.” Draco spits.
Harry’s glance sharpens accusingly for a moment. Draco gestures to his chest with his stray hand, hopelessly. He watches Harry glance down at the mess of scars on his chest and blanch a little when he understands.
“It um, starts in the bathroom and I’m dying. Shivering, cold and wet. And then it all turns on it’s ass and I’m in the fiendfyre again.” He explains whilst refusing to meet his green gaze, letting a moment pass before adding: “Except you don’t come for me this time.”
Harry doesn’t say anything, all that can be heard is the drip of the water. So awkwardly Draco fidgets with the water of the shower stall closest to him, adjusting the water to a nice normal warmth. “I used to dream about all of it but this one it’s reoccurring, that’s all.”
Harry nods and picks up a bottle of hair stuffs.
Draco removes his towel and steps into the water, trying not to feel self-conscious as he washes himself.
As Draco washes himself he keeps a paranoid eye on Potter, who he notices is um, very uh. Naked and wet and, well attractive okay? He watches the muscles in his arms contract as he holds them above his head, washing the shampoo out of his hair. Whenever he even thinks Potter is making way to look back over he averts his gaze back down to himself.
He’s pale, too pale. So unlike the tanned warm skin Potter has and suddenly he’s ogling again. The shower stall walls are small and cut out much of his view but as Potter turns and moves and stretches under the water, he gets a look at the curve of Potter’s arse and Draco’s burning up all over again.
Draco set out to wash his hair, his products sitting against the ledge of the stall wall, in reaching for his own shampoo he catches sight of his Dark Mark, faded and ugly against his skin and he’s ashamed all over again. Shamed and embarrassed, and freaked out. Nervous almost. He can’t breathe with this think imprinted across his skin, he does all he can not to start scratching at it. He can’t believe himself. How could he let this happen? How did he let this happen to him?
He realizes in the back of his mind, that he’s not really breathing properly, to the point a burning ache crawls its way into his chest and his throat is hurting.
He’s gasping, he knows but all he can see is this fucking Dark Mark and it’s so apart of him now, a Death Eater is all he’s going to be. He’s never going to amount to anything ever anymore, because this ugly rotting piece of shit is going to remind everyone of what he did, what he had to do, forever!
By the time Harry reaches him, he registers he’s dropped down in huddle on the floor. He’s hugging to cool tile of the wall, letting it soothe him and he steadies his breathing. He feels Harry clutch at his hands but he wants to push him away. Harry shakes him by the forearms and Draco sobs in reply.
“It’ll never come off, Harry. It’ll never come off ever. And there’s nothing I can do about it ever!” Draco cries, the back of his mind registers that he’s being melodramatic but it’s the truth and a darker part of him wishes he had died in that fire.
Potter looks down at the Dark Mark and Draco let’s out a ragged sob when he does. Panic settles in his chest and he wants to leave, to run away to anywhere. Why does Potter have to be here of all places? He settles for looking away from him, up to the showerhead, the wall of the stall.
Wait, they’re in the showers. Draco is naked. Harry is naked!
Draco scrambles upward suddenly, letting a big breathe enter him finally.
“Are you alright?” Harry echoes from the night before.
“None of us are alright Potter, don’t you get that?” Draco sighs, collecting his towel and wrapping himself with it once again, fuck washing his damn hair.
“You called me Harry earlier,” Potter has the nerve to say.
Draco looks back at him, his gaze magnetically finding his penis, his decent penis, before meeting Harry’s beseeching face. “Goodnight, Harry.”
Draco gets shaken awake by Harry the next night and he can’t figure out why for a moment. “Oh, Bellatrix had Granger.” He whispers to himself before turning to Harry. “I was screaming wasn’t I?”
Harry looks at him strangely before nodding. Behind him a few of the other had woken up, rolling over as if this were no new occurrence. It wasn’t. Nights were often broken up by someone or other thrashing about.
“Cheers,” Draco said, struggling away a yawn. He pulled his blankets back up over himself as Potter returned to his own bed.
“No problems Draco.”
Wait, what.

The next night isn’t a nightmare at all, it’s lovely, it’s ecstasy, it’s- FUCK.
Draco wakes up with a wet bed. A wet bed at eighteen are you fucking kidding. He was an adult for fuck’s sake.
He spells the bed clean, he spells himself clean but it doesn’t feel like it’s enough so he goes to the shower to get cleaned properly but Harry’s in there and he’s wanking with his back against a shower stall.
“Shit sorry!” Draco cries, and runs out of the bathroom but with the vision of Harry wanking burnt into the back of his brain as well as the look on his face when he knows he’s been caught in surprise.
Draco doesn’t sleep well for the whole rest of the night. He fakes his sleep as Harry returns to his own bed. It isn’t until he’s heard the tell tale sign of Harry’s small snore that Draco lies on his back once more and wonders exactly “What the fuck?”

The next night, Draco sleeps all the way through to morning.

The fire climbs higher and higher this time and as he reaches out all he can see is his own Dark Mark baring the way. The hand that comes down to save him, Harry’s hand, recoils from it and Draco falls back into the flames. Draco isn’t breathing. Draco isn’t breathing.
Warm hands shake him awake again.
“Draco! Draco!” Harry is whispering to him.
“What, what?!” Draco whispers harshly back.
“You were thrashing about, you… you had me worried!” Harry whispered with conviction.
Draco pushed Harry off of him, grabbing his shower things from ontop of his Hogwarts trunk, marching to the bathroom, his cock half hard.
“Draco!” Harry exclaimed.
“Don’t call me that!” Draco sighed.
“Why? You call me Harry don’t you?” Harry argued.
“Everyone calls you Harry!” Draco snaps back half heartedly, turning the water on, cold. He needed a cold shower in every way.
Harry stepped closer to him, “Draco, Draco, Draco.”
“Fuck off Potter!” Draco grumbled, removing his shirt, organizing his shampoo and his conditioner against the shower stall shelf.
“Draco…” Harry whispered, coming up behind him, his lips mere centimetres from the shell of his ear.
Draco shivers at this.
“Draco…” Harry repeats, edging closer till his heat wraps around Draco. Snaking his arms around Draco’s hips, reaching down finding Draco’s erection there. Sighing, “Draco!” As if in relief.
“Draco-draco-draco-draco-draco-draco…” He mumbles like prayer, his forehead resting against the knob of Draco’s neck. He strokes Draco languidly, a slow murderous tug of his cock and Draco groans loudly, loling his head back until it finds Harry’s shoulder there.
“Harry!” He whimpers back and it’s all Harry needs to hear before peppering kisses up and down Draco’s neck. He strokes Draco once more, keeping a slow pulsing rhythm in time with the suckles he flourishes against his neck. “Oh! Harry!” He cries.
At this Harry let’s go for a second, only to spin him against the tiled wall. Throwing Draco’s hands against the wall, he meets him in the middle, their tongues clashing with need. Harry squeezes his grip on one arm, the arm with the Dark Mark Draco and upon realizing this, he tries to break free from him. “Don’t!” Harry warns, “This. This mark. This mark doesn’t make you.”
Draco can’t think of a thing to say, instead he muffles all his emotion by his Harry fervently. Moving their mouths together, nipping sucking and mouthing over the corners of each other, Draco breaks away only for air and to tell Harry “Clothes off. Now.”
Harry complies.
Oh Merlin. Golden Boy indeed. Harry’s angry red cock standing at attention is enticing, it’s everything Draco has in him at that moment not to drop to his knees in awe of it but Draco has other plans.
He reaches around himself and teases his hole, in full view of Harry. He pulls a leg up on the empty stall ledge for access and wiggles it inside. Using the wetness of the shower to help.
Harry rushed him, pulling Draco’s hips to his own, wordlessly and wandlessly summoning something from the other room. Oh lube!
Harry coat his fingers and helps, together fingering Draco, both desperate to get him ready.
Draco kisses Harry again and Harry almost forgets what he’s doing from the sheer passion of it, his finger half falling from their place inside Draco. He pulls closer to Draco, forcing his mouth harder, wanting more of him, more of Draco. The feeling overwhelms him and a swelling feeling blooms inside his chest.
“Fuck me Harry, just fuck me. Please.” Draco begs between kisses, the wash of the shower water hides his weeping. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me. Oh!”
Harry hoists him up the curve of Draco’s knees locking with the curve of Harry’s elbows, using his body pressure to keep him there. Carefully Harry breaches him, just the fat tip of his cock at first. The sensation is maddening.
“Fuck!” Harry swears, slipping, sheathing himself fully inside Draco all at once.
Draco sees god. Draco sees stars. He sees fire, he is burning. He is dying all at once, he is alive, he is alive. He aches with the swell of Harry inside him and it burns. He is on fire and he doesn’t care. Harry is inside of him, his face is buried against Draco’s neck muttering apologies, placating words and soft tender kisses. Draco nuzzles into the feel of Harry’s head against him, relaxes.
Everything is perfect. He is where he should be. With Harry Potter balls deep inside of him.
“Move.” He mumbles breathily.
“What?” Harry croaks, his breathing uneven.
“Move… Harry.” Draco is smiling, the feeling feels so foreign against his skin he can’t remember the last time he had done so.
Harry smiles back and again Draco can’t help but thinking everything is perfect. Then he moves and oh Merlin’s balls it hurts. They both groan, Harry out of pleasure, Draco out of, well, he is overwhelmed.
“Are you alright?” Harry whispers, placing a kiss on Draco’s chest.
“Yes, now move. Please!” Draco demands stubbornly and again Harry complies.
At first the burning ache won’t go away but then it does and then “OH FUCK!” Harry hits something within him. Harry lights up with renewed vigor, aiming for that spot he had hit earlier. Draco wriggles a hand around to stroke himself. He finds himself fisting his dick hard by the time Harry manages the right angle properly.
Draco feels feverish with want, with desire, with ache. He needs to come, he wants it all. “Harry, fuck me. Fill me! Fuuuccckkk!” He cries as his orgasm hits from nowhere. Explosively ripping through him. Harry as his anchor, Draco is lost. Harry pumps into his ass harder and harder until Harry follows him over that edge, filling him as instructed.
Draco can’t breathe but this time it’s for a good reason. Harry lowers him to the floor and they both struggle not to fall to the floor. The water washes their mess down the drain.
After he has regained his breath, Harry reaches for him again, cautiously this time. Draco lets himself be pulled into Harry’s embrace and once inside Harry’s arms he wraps his own arms around Harry.
“Draco-draco-draco-draco-draco-draco…” Harry mutters like a whispered prayer, hiding his face in Draco’s neck once again, their naked bodies flush against each other. Their spent cocks sensitive against each other’s touch.
“Harry!” Draco whispers into Harry’s nearest ear. He brushes hair away from his neck and places his own loving kisses down Harry’s neck.

They go to bed together in Draco’s bed, and nobody questions it.

I haven’t broken down into ugly sobbing yet because just think about it

Ray’s not fucking shunned from the company, he’s still a dear friend who will probably visit often


and when he pops up in videos in the future, he’ll probably be a lot happier with his lifestyle and you never know MAYBE HE’LL ACTUALLY FUCKING TALK MORE

In my head.
  • Me: I'm really hungry I'll eat that apple.
  • Voice: You are not hungry.
  • Me: Yes I am. I can have one apple I didn't eat lunch.
  • Voice: You cannot have that apple you fat ugly pig.
  • Me: But what the hell I haven't had anything today and I'm starving!
  • Voice: No you're not. Shut your mouth. You never stop eating. That's why you gained 3 ounces.
  • Me: No please it was just water! I need to eat.
  • Voice: This is why that boy in your genetics class doesn't like you. He knows you're fat and ugly and that he can do much better.
  • Me: No that's not it we are just friends!
  • Voice: Only because he pities you.
  • Me: *eats*
  • Voice: What the hell is wrong with you. You are a failure. A disgrace. You are going to have no one if you keep this up.
  • Me: *sobbing* I know. I know. Why did I lose control?! I'm a failure. A fat ugly failure.
  • Voice: I know. You are. But don't worry, I'll make it better. No food at all for the next 48 hours.
  • Me: Okay.
  • Voice: You are so pathetic.
  • Me: I know.
  • Voice: You are a failure.
  • Me: I know.
  • Voice: FAT. UGLY. PIG.
  • Me: I know.
  • Voice: You deserve to suffer and die.
  • Me: I know.
The Cuddly Macha Bird

emifishwaffle submitted:

There once was a Macha bird who loved to cuddle.
She cuddled small things, big things, and even cuddled upside-down!
But of all the things her favourite to cuddle was Pepper bird.
One day, the Macha bird was cuddling up against the bars when a feather fell out.
“That’s strange,” she thought, but continued to cuddle regardless.
Day after day passed and more and more feathers fell out.
Ugly spikes started to grow from her body, and the Macha bird was worried.
“What is happening to me?” she cried.
Then the Pinochikeet spoke up to her.
“All of your old feathers are being replaced with spikes because you cuddle too much.”
“What can I do?” she asked.
“You must stop cuddling. If you cuddle you shall continue to get worse until you look like a fat pin cushion.”
The Macha bird was shocked. She loved to cuddle! But if stopping was the only way to prevent her pin cushion fate then stop she must.
She didn’t cuddle small things.
She didn’t cuddle big things.
And she never cuddled upside-down.
She was sad, and the Pepper bird had noticed and came to her.
“What’s wrong, Macha bird?”
“All my feathers have been replaced with ugly pins because I cuddled too much,” she sobbed. “But now I can’t cuddle anymore and that makes me even sadder!”
The Pepper bird smiled and spoke to her softly.
“You are not losing your feathers because you cuddled too much. You are moulting! Inside those pins are brand new feathers getting ready to make you look prettier than ever.”
“Are you sure?” she said. “If I can cuddle again… I won’t turn into a pin cushion?”
The Pepper bird nodded.
“Far from it. Here, let me preen you a little.”
The Pepper bird very carefully pulled his beak across one of the pins, pulling it away and revealing a brand new feather.
“If we cuddle then that helps remove these pins and your new feathers will come through easier. You see? A beautiful new feather.”
The Macha bird looked at her new feather. It looked so new! So soft and shiny and she felt proud.
From that day onwards the Macha bird continued to cuddle with everything.
Small things. Big things. Even cuddling upside-down!
But her favourite thing of all would always be to cuddle the Pepper bird.
The End