𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬(𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐑𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐆𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐭)
Don't wanna be here? Send us removal request.
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My english teacher just came back from maternity leave 😭

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I'm gonna say it.
It's unhinged to assume that someone's taste in fiction equates to what they believe is moral or good, or is something they want to see or experience in real life.
That is a bonkers assumption to make.
I'm tired of humoring people with long arguments about it when the simple fact is it is a totally fucking absurd reach to accuse someone who enjoys something in fiction of being in favor of it in real life.
I'm tired of pretending like this is a legitimate position to hold-- that they should be afraid of fiction's dire influence on a reader's moral decay or that it's a sign of what the author secretly wants for realsies in real life.
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Can we normalize buying out a theater to watch movies you really like. I mean its the way to see it. Also when you have the ad ridden version of a streaming service can they just play all the ads at the start. LIKE IM TRYING TO WATCH A SERIOUS SCENE AND THEN….
Stanton optical can save you more-
LIKE I DONT CARE I HATE YOU STANTON! And your stupid cute mascot.
#I just want to watch#burn the ads#movies#theater#no more subtitles because#the streaming company cant be bothered#to have decent sound design for a movie
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#playlater
There should be a fanfic writing game called the showrunners challenge where someone writes a story and partway through someone else can play things like "actor leaves after 4000 more words" or "topic now too politically sensitive due to unforeseen world events" or "lost rights to that reference"
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I'm gonna say it.
It's unhinged to assume that someone's taste in fiction equates to what they believe is moral or good, or is something they want to see or experience in real life.
That is a bonkers assumption to make.
I'm tired of humoring people with long arguments about it when the simple fact is it is a totally fucking absurd reach to accuse someone who enjoys something in fiction of being in favor of it in real life.
I'm tired of pretending like this is a legitimate position to hold-- that they should be afraid of fiction's dire influence on a reader's moral decay or that it's a sign of what the author secretly wants for realsies in real life.
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I was today years old when I learned that when you type “otp: true” in AO3 search results it filters out fics with additional ships, leaving only the fics where your otp is the main ship

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Fanfic reader's prayer: may my favorite author's hyperfixation on this fandom last longer than mine 🙏
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Kylo Ren Wallpaper

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Pt. 2 of my men collages
The rest of my men, please save me from this fever 🥵. Im collecting a harem of husbands.







Sorry about Hayden’s, I got tired lol. Plus I think hes hot but like I havent had a phase about him like that.
#christian bale#joe keery#djo#jimmy fallon#miles teller#cypher#valorant#levi ackerman#aot#hayden christensen#i love him#i love them#hotmen#celebs
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Pt. 1 of my men collages
Some of my men, lord give me strength🤤. I can take them (not in fights).







#rupert grint#johnny depp#vijay varma#george clooney#brad pitt#christian slater#devon sawa#hotmen#hotm#i love him#i love them#collage#celebrities#celebs
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A Dungeon of Our Own Ch. 2 | Draco Malfoy Series
Tags & Warnings: Some angst (more to come), slow-burn, enemies to lovers but like if someone coughed E to L on it, Roleplay, sissification if you squint, light BDSM, POV swap (sorta). Think I missed a tag or warning? Please let me know!
Word count: 2.04K Pairing: Draco x Femdom!Reader
A/N: Sorry this chapter took awhile. I started writing with full steam then there were some storms that knocked out my power, broke my fencing, and peeled up my roof; plus I lost my juice for writing so It took me a while to get back into the groove; it required me to dress up in a black turtleneck. I also did tons of research on all sorts of things so that I could try and make this accurate. I ended up not using most of it because I didn’t feel super confident in the level of knowledge I obtained but I hope I can in future chapters. I hope to do the BDSM community justice as well as the vibes of London/Britain as a whole; I really want to get this right—I am American so I apologize. If you happen to be a part of either of these communities please let me know how I am doing (constructively) or dm me if you're willing to let me bombard you with questions.
Sorry for grammar mistakes

Ch. 2 | A filthy little…friend?
Grey, that was the only color around, the walls, the sky, everyone around him. Everything devoid of the life it once had only left with the horrible acts that now stained this room. Draco's eyes traced the patterns in the table’s wood avoiding the eyes of anyone at the table, keeping his mind busy. He felt a hand touch his under the table: his mother, her eyes glancing at him giving him some comfort–not enough to help but enough to make it bearable. In front of him lie a corpse, he watched her deteriorate from the torture, heard her agonizing screams, watched her eyes finally die, turning that grey that covered everything; then finally watched her be consumed by a beast.
Sweat coated his forehead as Draco woke up in his bed no longer surrounded by the death eaters, no longer staring into the grey eyes of a once loved Hogwarts professor. His breath was rapid while his eyes darted around the room to make sure he was really alone. It took him some time but he eventually slowed down his shaky breathing, keeping his eyes fixated on the bright half moon outside his window. These dreams of his had been haunting him since the end of the war but he had gone a few months without one until now. Draco couldn’t seem to get back to sleep, he sat up on the side of his bed staring at the floor for a moment before deciding to shower. The warm water had failed to comfort Draco at all, he fell to the floor sitting under the falling water. He sat and stared at the faded scar on his forearm, disgusting, he thought, rubbing it hard with his hand. Gradually, he pulled himself together and exited the bathroom, having changed into a long sleeve, form fitting, black turtleneck with black dress pants to match. Passing a window he could see the sky beginning to turn a swirl of pinks, oranges, and blues; peaceful. Closing the door to his room he sat at his desk pulling out parchment, a quill, and ink, he planned to write a letter to Granger. He still hated the idea of asking her anything, but he knew her muggle background would be useful for his endeavors. It took him quite a while to start writing as he was unsure how to start such a letter–he decided on just a formal, dear. The letter was quite lengthy by the time he was done, filled with millions of questions, this way he could avoid making a fool of himself among muggles. He sealed the letter and opened the window above his desk, handing the envelope to his owl. He watched it fly away until it became a small black speck in the almost completely blue sky.
Draco spent the rest of the morning anxiously waiting for a response to his letter. At Lunch he ate alone—his parents having left for separate reasons—leaving him to his thoughts, not for long though. As he took another drink of tea his owl dropped a letter on the table and flew back off outside. He was surprised, he had not expected her to respond in all honesty, especially within the same day. He hesitantly opened the letter, worrying that the parchment would only have a sentence saying, why would I bother helping you. However, the paper in fact was filled with words, it seemed like there may have been more answers than questions. He read through the parchment into the late afternoon, going over everything multiple times and trying to practice. He paced his room acting out scenarios until he received another letter. The owl dropped it on his desk and flew back out through the open window. He reached for the letter reading the front it was from his mother.
Your father and I have decided to leave early for the trip. This way we may spend a few days enjoying the country. Please feel free to contact me by owl if you need anything. We will only be gone from now until the 15th. I love you, take care.
Two full weeks they were to be gone. Draco felt now this really was a perfect opportunity to intermingle with muggles.
~~~
“Shit, shit, shit. I really don’t want to be late.” Grabbing your bag and triple checking that your keys were in there, finally leave your flat. You jog to the lift, Out of Service, “Seriously! It’s been 3 weeks,” you huff, as you begrudgingly pull the door open to the stairwell. Out of breath, from the five flights of stairs and frazzled you run out the front door of the building and start toward your nearest tube station. Just barely making it onto your usual train, after squeezing past a rather heavy set man. You grab a pole as no seats are available and settle in for the ride—which is very hard when you can smell about 50 people who have never heard of deodorant. Trying your hardest to mentally plug your nose, you zone out for the rest of the train ride until you hear the automated voice over the speaker for your stop. Quickly you collect yourself and then fight to get off the train through the large crowds, being a single bobbing head among hundreds (probably thousands). Speeding along you passed the bar that you frequented after work wishing you could go now.
Eventually you were face to face with an inconspicuous office building that you knew to be filled with more secrets than most. Having rung the bell and waiting a moment you watched a woman built like a librarian you knew as a child answer, Silvia.
“Finally, you realize Quinn is going to chew you out.” The skinny yet curvaceous woman spoke.
“I know, I know, please pray for me.”
“Can’t I’m an atheist. Plus I’m on her side.” You rolled your eyes and stepped through the doorway. You had to sneak through the lobby in hopes Quinn would miss seeing you. She was a short but powerful older lady, around her mid 40’s, although she did not look older than 25. Her hair was a teal buzz cut–that was starting to grow out–contrasting her dark skin. You really did not want to use the excuse of the lift being broken again but that really was the reason, most of the time.
Just as you thought you were gonna make it to the dressing room you heard that smooth but menacing voice, “YOU!” You slowly turned, hunching your shoulders and giving a weak smile at the cross-armed woman in front of you.
“Yes?” You tried to sound as un-guilty as possible. The reason getting in trouble with Quinn was so scary was she never looked fully angry and she always spoke so carefully, so softly, like a disappointed mother. It was a million times worse than someone just yelling at you, it made you feel really bad.
“This is what…the 5th time? 6th time? I mean who's keeping track, right?” She spoke with a warm silky voice, “Maybe I can buy you an alarm, early birthday gift. I know it's coming up next week. Anyway, I can only ask so many times for you to be on time.” She shook her head and gestured toward the changing rooms. It didn’t feel necessary to talk back; after all, there were no sessions scheduled for you until after 11am.
“She got you good this time didn’t she.” Opal had clearly noticed your sulking shoulders when you entered the room. “You are so sensitive to her tactics.” She clicked her tongue twice and continued applying what looked like a 4th layer of mascara. You walked past her to your locker, getting undressed, and pulling on your favorite black latex dress and a pair of black heeled boots.
The next few hours were spent waiting around with some of your co-workers, greeting 1 or 2 customers and gossiping about each other's lives.
“Ladies, I need to tell you…he’s officially mine!” Margo showed off the beautiful collar she had gotten for her new slave. She had been doing domme work with him for quite a while and they have great chemistry from what she’s described. This was a wish you have held for a while: your own submissive, probably someone a bit bratty though, you like them feisty.
It was finally nearing your session you made sure to wait until Quinn came to get you and tell you the room was ready, client and all. Within the next few minutes you had entered a room with one of your regulars, who you were quite lucky to have, as it could get very competitive with the other dommes. He was a round man but had muscular arms, curly hair–longing to be pulled–sat atop his almond shaped head. You walked into the room, head held high and demeanor, vicious, feeling like the goddess you are. Immediately–as had been agreed upon through emails prior–he crawled up to your feet and nuzzled against your leg. You looked down at him with just your eyes and he hurriedly moved his head away from your leg.
“I didn’t permit you to touch my leg. That's only for good girls who’ve done their chores.”
He looked down clearly disappointed in himself, you walked to your throne as he did this, patting the side of your thigh indicating for him to follow, he did. He sits on his knees in front of you on the throne.
“What to do with you…you're not in proper attire, are you? Take off your shirt.”
“Yes mistress.” He says, quickly removing his shirt and folding it into his lap, you smile small.
“Good, now put your shirt away and get your uniform,” you point to the shelf filled with a selection of lacy bras. You cross your leg in waiting while he places his folded shirt on the shelfs empty space and grabs a blue bra and attempts to clasp it. He struggles for a moment and you let out a small sultry chuckle, which you can tell made him pink, before he is able to clasp all 3. You give him a round of applause for his efforts before directing him to clean up, he grabs his broom and dust pan and sweeps a corner while you patiently and intently watch. Occasionally you direct him to do tasks differently to make it harder or to
After he had finished the task along with a few others you had him do he kneeled in front of you, “I’m done mistress.” He looked up at you demurely awaiting your response.
“Let’s see how you did, shall we,” you stand up from your throne and closely inspect the floor looking for any dust or hair he may have missed, then the shelves he dusted, and finally the bed he made up. You can’t spot anything immediately wrong and walk back, crouching behind him to whisper in his ear, “You’ve done such a good job my little maid. You deserve a reward-” You stand up and walk in front of him, “-what sounds fitting, hmm, you can help me, and I'll allow you to touch me.” You walk to a small cabinet and pull out a clear bottle shaped container with a pump on the top. “You can lube me up,” you say suggestively, walking over to him and placing your freehand on his shoulder. He seems a bit taken aback but then shows clear excitement. You order him to get gloves and explain your latex dress needs silicone lubricant to make it shiny and keep it supple. You stand with your arms out and let him pump some lubricant on his gloves and slide his hands down your arms, directing him as he goes along. He seemed to be having a lot of fun with this and you were pleased at his enjoyment.
By the time he was finished his hour was up, you directed him to take the gloves off and to change back into his clothes but to not forget what he was. He left the room and you walked back to the break room. You had one more session scheduled then it was home sweet home.
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Sorry Ladies can’t go out tonight, I have another celeb im gonna save too many pictures of on my phone.
#please help#free me from this chokehold#why do men#have to be so pretty#meirl#relatable#hotmen#i dont know how else to cope with the enormous amounts of fangirl energy i have
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I wish I could just posess other people. Researching for things would be so much better for me. First hand experience is how I best learn things. Just lemme borrow a british person living in Londons body for like a day or two so I can figure out exactly what its like yknow.
#just a thought#learning about dominatrix stuff rn#also just learned they call them tube stations#i love that#its soo cute british people can be adorable
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