#i apologize if im annoying.

[grangerliam]

LIAM GRANGER HEADCANON'S (2/?)

HC: If you're friends with Liam, there's a chance you've seen, at least, one of these movies. If you're close friends with Liam, you've very likely saw majorly, or all, of these films plus some. These would be his top 9 movies, but they are not his only. There's a longer list, some of which involve sequels of the movies mentioned above. -- He also has a crush on Jane Levy because of Evil Dead and Don't Breathe. His first crush was on Jessica Biel as Erin in TCM. OOC Side note: I make my friends watch my favorite horror movies with me, so I know he do, too.

Evil Dead (2013) - A remake to the 1981 movie, and honestly, a damn good one. The main character is a heroin addict, and her friends, and brother take her out to a cabin to help her get clean. One of the friends end up reading from a book that unleashes an evil in the cabin. The main character tries to warn everyone because weird stuff happens and she knows somethings wrong. No one believes her because they just assume she's withdrawing. And it goes about as well as what anyone would expect from there. ---- A royal mention to Evil Dead Rise that came out last year. He also loved that one, and has watched it multiple times. He enjoys the originals simply for that fact alone, they're originals. But he prefers these two.

Don't Breathe (2016) - A movie where neither side is really in the right, and a lot could've been avoided have the main characters not tried to break into a house that wasn't theirs. Nonetheless, a solid movie about three thieves that go up against a blind man who isn't as impaired al they thought. Just cause he can't see, don't his other senses aren't A1. And it's a fight to the death after that.

The Forsaken (2001) - Most people when asked what their favorite vampire movie is, they'd say 'The Lost Boys' or maybe 'Interview with a Vampire'. Liam's is the Forsaken. A underrated movie in his opinion, that takes a interesting spin on the lore of vampires. A film student who is hired to take a car across the country runs into a hitch hitcher who turns his life upside when they both pick up a blonde who seems like she's on drugs outside a dinner. But she was actually bitten by a vampire, and then proceeds to bite the film student when he tries to calm her down. All three are then on a race against time to kill "The Forsaken" which is the head vampire that holds the virus in their blood.

Halloween (1978) - Do I really need to say anything? It's a classic, and it's beloved by just about everyone. Jamie Lee Curtis as Lorie Strode. Arguably #1 Final Girl. Baby sitter, stalker man in a mask who's just trying to stab people. It's a classic.

Nightmare On Elm Street (1984) - Once again, another classic. A very original idea for a killer. Can't go wrong with this sleep traveling demon thing with knives for fingers and a burnt face.

Scream (1996) - Classic, classic, classic. The movie that refreshed the horror genre at its time. A masked killer who calls you and taunts you before he chases you and kills you. A solid story line that follows all 6 movies, without missing a beat. Killer is always human, and always someone you know. Great characters. Sidney Fucking Prescott. He also appreciates the other 5 movies as well.

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2003) - A remake of the 1974 film of it's same name. While Liam respects the OG, he finds that this one is a pretty solid remake, and enjoys it occasionally. Jessica Biel is everything in this movie as well, so you know. A group of friends are road tripping across Texas, picks up a hitch hiker, said hitch hiker unalives herself. The group of friends try to find the cops, but instead come into the family of cannibals that make their trip literal hell.

The Ruins (2008) - Four friends are on vacation in Mexico when they come across another man, who befriends them. This man is on the look for his brother as he went on a sight seeing adventure and never returned home. The five of them don't expect much, and the four friends agree to go with their new friend to a place called 'The Ruins'. When they get there, they are immediately trapped there by town people, who don't speak English. So it's a huge miscommunication trope, but they eventually find out that The Ruins are these poisonous cannibal like vines that once you touch them, you are infected. They try to figure out how to get the hell out of there, but everything's against them at that point.

Vacancy (2007) - If we were to ask Liam (or me), what was an underrated movie in our opinions, this one would be at the top of the list. First off, Luke Wilson is phenomenal in this, which you wouldn't think of him as a horror movie actor, but he's fantastic. A husband and wife are on their way home after a family visit. They take the back roads, but their car breaks down, and unable to get a mechanic in the middle of the night, they are forced to say at this hideaway motel until morning. Well, turns out said motel is a breeding ground for snuff films, and these two must work out their differences (they're going through a divorce and lost their child), in order to survive the night.

[idolomantises]

Twitter does fascinate me, because I feel like tumblr has been a lot more accepting of people who draw women with big boobs, who draw adult art on the side, and who aren't afraid of being sensual and intimate.

But twitter seems to be actively terrified of anything that could turn them on. For years I've been harassed for my art. Way back in 2020 I was called out for "sexualizing" Ankha, but this was the image they were referring to.

This fear of adult works and porn has to end man. Queer artists shouldn't be harassed or labeled as bad, untrustworthy people because they want to draw women with curves or big chests, or draw some NSFW art on the side.

[insertdisc5]

i was looking thru my old isat files like hm. is there anything thats not in the artbook. and yes. the answer is "the draft for the mirror photo, before i realized making it oval would be cuter and way better composition-wise"

[youngpettyqueen]

grabbing people and going look at me. listen to me. its not "omg the Doctor is finally gay now!!" the Doctor has been queer this entire goddamn time. 9 kissed Jack on the lips in 2005. 10, 11, and 12 openly discussed being attracted to men. 11 ALSO kissed men on the lips. 13 was in love with Yasmin Khan, and openly expressed attraction to women. 14 openly expressed being attracted to a man. these are just off the top of my head I may be missing things

the point is that 15 is not the first Doctor to be openly queer and he is not the first Doctor to become romantically involved with someone of the same sex. stop believing the headlines from Disney that this is the first time the Doctor has been queer onscreen. we are NOT letting them take credit they dont deserve

[thermodynamic-comedian]

genuinely why are you not allowed to decline someone's affection. why do you have to trap yourself in situations and relationships you don't enjoy in order to protect someone else's feelings. it's not really fun to be 'friends' or 'partners' with someone out of moral obligation. it's not fun for anyone involved. but you have to stay, because they mentioned they have abandonment issues once and now you feel like cutting ties would be the most evil fucked up thing you could ever do. it's not my fault if i don't like someone. it's not. but it feels like it is.

[aliceisaperson]

HOLY SHITTT

[skcirthinq]

So. The Neon Void by @sugarpasteltmnt has officially ended.

And I. Definitely didn't get so excited that I filled like 5 sketch pages.

Spoilers for the last few chapters ahead!

So like. The whole story has been so much fun, so well written; there's been fun call-backs both to the show itself and to earlier in the fic, amazingly balanced action, comedy, emotions.

Honestly, thanks so much to Sugarpastel for writing this, it's been an amazing ride!

[disorganised-bagel]

i am selfish, i am broken, i am cruel i am all the things they might have said to you

they actually drive me insane

(lyrics are from 'never love an anchor' by the crane wives)

[bambistan]

Sometimes I feel like I'm the most chill person in this fandom when it comes to ships and characters. Like I can find reasons as to why each ship would work and wouldn't.

Pandalily? Academic rivals FOR SURE.

Jegulus? HELLO??? Bestfriends brother? Grumpy x Sunshine?

Partyvan? Peter deserves ALL that love.

Marylene? Not friends, not lovers, but something. It's so heartbreakingly cute.

I can even find stuff for ships I don't even ship.

Jeverus? After he saves his life? Hell yeah!

Dramoine? ENEMIES TO LOVERS! REDEMPTION ARCS!

Prongsfoot? Best friends to lover? Sure, man, go for it!

Regulus x Sirius?.......... You... You do you bro???

Snily? That "always" line was cute, I gotta admit.

I genuinely won't judge like if you ship them - if you see them working out; GO. FOR. IT. THEYRE FICTIONAL!! Have your own opinions, it's okay!

AND THE CHARACTERS!!!

Yes, they all have their flaws. Yes, James bullied Severus. Yes, James repeatedly asked Lily even though she'd already turned her down. Yes, he changed!!

Yes, Severus called the love of his life a slur. Yes, he bullied children. Yes he cared for Harry to some extent! Even if it's only as a tribute to Lily, that's better than nothing.

Yes, Dumblewh*re raise Harry for slaughter.... That's it... I have nothing more to add for him.... Bitch.

Yes, Regulus is a death eater. Yes, Regulus was obsessed with the dark lord since childhood. Yes, he stole the horcrux!!

Sorry for the rant but like I'm seeing so much hate for so many characters and ships and I don't understand it. There's as much to love as there is to hate. It wouldn't be fair if they were perfect flawless characters. They're designed to be insufferable and loving and idiotic and a little crazy.

[natsmagi]

in light of an anon sending me 2 asks wishing me pain/death (although not the most serious in tone) only to then follow it up with an immediate apology saying "i didnt mean it i love your art so much please dont die" im deciding to just revoke yalls anonymous privileges because clearly you people are just too comfortable saying whatever the fuck you feel like without ever stopping to think for a second. and like ive mentioned; im not one that cares for death threats. but for you to just throw this shit at someone only to immediately apologize and take it back? what happened to thinking before we act? have we truly reached a point where we're so online-brained we've forgotten theres actual consequences for our actions? if youre comfortable enough to send someone you dont know death threats that you dont even mean i expect you to be comfortable saying that same thing with your name attached to it. this is just getting annoying to deal with

[wifegideonnav]

yeah you say “cringe is dead” but do you still apologize about reblogging stuff related to your “cringy” interests? kill the mindset that you are somehow not included in that statement or we’re never actually going to change anything

[pup-pee]

they should just die already

[dawn-moths]

Hello how are you can I request Ronald with at frist shy looking and inocennt s/o,but she is actually really nasty and freaky and like some smut in there to i would be most thankfull i love your blog,lots of love😘😘

hello!! |˶˙ᵕ˙ )ﾉﾞ

i hope you like what i came up with. enjoy!

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Ronald Knox x Female Reader

word count: 4,000+

disclaimer/content warning: 18+ content! minors dni! smut, reader is described as being/dressing feminine, reader is called “good girl, baby” and referred to as "princess", the nickname “daddy” is used for Ron, sub/dom dynamics, size difference, finger sucking, reader is carried, minimal prep, masochist reader, rough sex, biting, choking, hair pulling, nipple play, cock warming, aftercare.

***

It always starts this way, it seems.

What begins as otherwise harmless kissing quickly evolves into something much more explicit. Much more obscene.

Because, just before things start to get a little more heated, you find yourself straddling Ron’s lap, your mouth hovering over his as you both breathe in each other’s air, panting like dogs left out in the afternoon heat.

You, his precious baby with the face of an angel and the mind of a little devil only he’s allowed to know.

You, his own personal little porn star.

And you’re shameless. Eager. So enticing that it takes every ounce of will he has not to just hook his thumbs into the waistband of those pretty lace panties he knows you love to wear and tear them to shreds, to push you back and pin you down to the couch and fuck you until there’s tears in your eyes and your voice has gone raspy and raw from all the sounds of pleasure he’s forced from your throat.

You, his shy little sex kitten, always teasing him in those skirts that are just a little too short, those necklines that are just a little too low, your body’s soft curves the kind that the ancient Greeks used to sculpt statues of, chipping away at cold marble until a woman was found somewhere among the jagged rock. Reverent. Ethereal. Sacred.

Only for him.

Only, you do feel a little bit of shame, if you were being completely honest with yourself. It makes itself known in the way your cheeks heat, in the way your blood goes icy-hot with embarrassment at how you must look like this. How debauched and needy and on your way to no doubt becoming a complete and utter mess by the time this session is over.

But that’s the thing about you.

The more shy you acted now, the more desperate and dirty you’d be for him later.

“What’s the matter, baby?” Ron asked with one of those soft, charming grins spreading across his spit-shined lips, his voice low and soothing. He gently gripped your chin between his fingers and turned your face, which you’d momentarily tried to hide by nuzzling it into your shoulder, back up towards him, coaxing your nervous gaze to follow. “What is it?” he further questioned, though with a lilt of an amused chuckle laced into his hushed tone. “Things movin’ a little too fast for ya?”

In response, all you could manage was a squeak and another attempt to retreat and hide your shy little expressions from him again, but he was faster that time and caught you before you could really escape. When his smile refused to falter you knew he wasn’t going to let you off easy.

“No, no, no,” he said, tone woven with mischievous mirth. “Don’t hide…” Then, leaning in close to whisper in your ear, his lips nearly brushing the shell of it as his warm breath wafted against your neck, he murmured, “Seeing you get all flustered is one of my favorite parts…”

Ron knew that your whole sweet-and-innocent act was merely a mask to cover what you both knew was really true about you. And that was the undeniable fact that you were quite the little masochist. You liked it when he got rough with you. Left you a trembling mess by the end of the night after covering you in the shape of his bite and several shades of bruises from the press of his fingertips.

But, even so, it wasn’t like that shyer side of you was entirely fake, either.

Your innocence, whether it was surface level or not, was one of the things that had drawn Ron towards you in the first place, after all. Because who didn’t love a girl who seemed like a little darling on the outside only to discover what a little devil she was hiding underneath all those coy smiles and cute little dresses and lacy lingerie.

Your tender sweetness also happened to pair well with Ron’s proclivity to tease.

“Don’t be mean…” you whined, the corners of your mouth pulling down into one of those adorable little pouts Ron loved to be the cause of.

At this, Ron merely let out another one of those low, borderline sinister chuckles under his breath. He placed both his hands on your hips, readjusted your position over his lap to spread your thighs a little further, pulling where you were no doubt becoming more sensitive and needy down to brush against where his own arousal was growing from under his trousers.

Upon feeling him rubbing against your core you couldn’t help but let out a helpless little whimper, the first flare of impatient need coming to life inside of you.

“Y’know…” Ron reminded you, reveling in every little wiggle or squirm he felt wrack through your body as he pressed you even closer against him, “if you just tell Daddy what you want, it’ll be a whole lot easier for him to give it to you…”

You were shy…

Until you weren’t.

“I want…” you began, voice a shaky little plea. “I want your fingers in my mouth, Daddy…”

The request came out as more whisper than words, your head feeling dizzy from the rush of blood that raced upward to burn from your chest to the tips of your ears even hotter than before, the embarrassment almost enough to cancel out your eagerness, though not quite.

“Oh yeah?” Ron taunted, a slight growl to his voice now as he felt his own desires threaten to spill over the edge, the arousal welling to the brim within him from the thought of it alone. “Well then…” He pressed the pad of his thumb to the plush of your lower lip, gently pulling down to coax your sweet little mouth open wider for him. “Guess I have no choice but to deliver on what my baby needs…”

Slipping one of his long, slender fingers along the slick warmth of your tongue, then two, feeling you sucking the digits down further until they disappeared all the way up to the seam of his palm, your throat bobbing as the tips of his fingers brushed against the back of your gag reflex, Ron couldn’t help but gulp as well, trying to keep his composure the best he could.

“God, baby…” he sighed, as if in prayer. You curled your tongue around him, coating his fingers further in your thick saliva, at which point Ron slowly pulled them free, dragging them flat across your tongue and shuddering at the thought of how your mouth would feel encasing other parts of his body, before wiping some of your spit across your kiss-swollen lips.

The more disheveled or dirty you became, the more beautiful Ron thought you were.

“Daddy…?” you asked, that syrupy shyness drizzled back over the word like you were still his innocent little angel causing his cock to twitch in his pants. You didn’t miss the way he was beginning to shift and squirm as well, likely just as impatient as you now, if not more so. “Do you wanna…?” You glanced over your shoulder at where the bedroom door was open just a crack, as if trying to tempt you with the promise of what lay inside.

Ron followed your line of sight, glancing back to you when you turned to meet his emerald gaze again. A smirk fissured across his boyishly handsome features, his own little demon stirring back to life.

He nudged your nose with his, hummed out a melodic note of affirmation, and then, the next thing you knew, he was hoisting you up to carry you, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as his big palms cushioned the backs of your soft thighs, the silky flesh spilling between his strong grip.

He nudged open the door with his foot before swinging it closed in the same manner, not wasting a second before he had you lying back on the bed, pinned beneath him like a rare butterfly he’d worked hard to collect and had no intention of letting go.

Grabbing up both your wrists in one of his fists, Ron used his free hand to begin pushing your skirt up around your waist, fingers brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs and rising a wave of chills over you, taking a moment to knead you there as you gently writhed under his hold, trying to squeeze your legs together to create even just a little bit of friction for yourself. But Ron recognized instantly what you were trying to do and coaxed your legs back apart, wanting to be the one to get you worked up himself.

You knew your panties must be soaked by now, the expensive lace likely ruined just from his teasing alone, but it wasn’t until he slipped two of his lithe fingers in through the side to glide through your delicate, drenched folds that you truly realized just what a mess you really were.

Ron let out an amused, prideful breath of a laugh. “So wet for me…” he half praised, half teased, applying pressure to your throbbing clit, making a gasp and one of those delectable little whines escape from your throat. “Just like that…” he said, rubbing skillful circles against the tender, swollen little bud. “So good for me,” he cood. “Always such a good girl…”

He let go of your wrists to use both hands to begin removing the ruined lace from you, encouraging you to help him in discarding it along with your skirt, and once you were left bare below the waist for him, Ron took a moment to admire you like that, all spread and vulnerable for his eyes only.

“So beautiful, baby…” he sighed, entranced. “You’re perfect…”

Ron thought you had the prettiest pussy he’d ever seen, all pink and glistening like the dewy petals of a rose, but he knew that the sight of it was nothing compared to how it felt squeezing around his cock. It was a sensation he was addicted to. Just the mere memory of your most recent time together was enough to make him feel like he could lose all control, becoming more desperate to satisfy his desire by the minute.

Lucky for him though, he knew you liked it rough, so if he didn’t take the full time needed to prep you, you wouldn’t necessarily hold it against him.

You both were still half clothed, and the humidity of the room and the body heat being exchanged between you two was near stifling. You needed the rest of your clothes off soon or else you’d become so hot and frazzled you’d hardly be able to think. Not that you needed to when in Ron’s hands. He already knew what you wanted, what you liked, though, lucky for you, he also wanted the rest of your clothing off.

“Arms up,” Ron told you, already gathering the hem of your top in his hands, halfway to tugging it up your chest, eyes unable to help but catch on the sight of the pretty matching bra that currently cradled your breasts. You obeyed without hesitation and soon found yourself fully exposed, the room now feeling a few degrees cooler.

Ron began hastily unbuckling his belt, the strain of his erection having grown painful with how hard it was trying to free itself from his trousers. He quickly discarded the remainder of his clothing, biting back a groan as he took his pulsing length in his hand, though couldn’t stop the punched out, “Fuck—” that escaped his lips when he slid it between the silky petals of your dewy folds, gathering more of your slick before lining himself up with your tight little entrance.

You wanted him to take his time, allow you to feel every vein and ridge of him, but for as much as Ron usually indulged you, it seemed that tonight time was going to have to wait.

“Now be a good girl for me,” he instructed, already sounding halfway to being out of breath, “and hold still for Daddy—”

With his hands gripping your hips hard enough for bruises to bloom beneath his fingers and one quick, harsh thrust, Ron buried himself down to the hilt inside of you. You let out a broken cry, head thrown back and neck craning as you felt yourself suddenly split by the familiar aching pleasure his cock provided.

And it hurt.

It hurt so much.

But you fucking loved it.

“That’s it, baby…” Ron panted, hunching over you while you both took a moment to adjust to each other’s bodies. “Good girl… Always so good at taking my cock…”

He was peppering chaste little kisses along your temple and jaw, a feeble attempt to distract you from the stringing stretch he’d just forced your body to endure as well as an apology for the soreness he knew you’d feel tomorrow because of it, a thin sheen of sweat already beginning to break out over the both of you.

But soon, all you could focus on was the slow drip of euphoria that was on its way to taking over your brain, some of the pain numbing as it gave way to pleasure.

When Ron first began moving, it was slow and rhythmic, all prior rush gone from his intentions. But the more your cunt clenched around him, the more erratic he seemed to become, hips stuttering in their motions as he struggled to keep a consistent rhythm. And by the time you were whimpering out a pathetic little, “Choke me,” well…

Ron just about lost it.

One hand rested over the delicate curve of your throat, Ron wanting to feel the hammering of your pulse for a moment before he cut off your air supply. Your eyes glittered up at him through the low light, so much love and trust and dangerous desire all wrapped up in your gaze. He held you in suspense for a moment, waiting until the frantic rise and fall of your chest slowed to something much steadier and controlled. Then, after you took your next inhale, his grip tightened, squeezing around your neck and making your eyes roll when you realized, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t breathe.

Not unless he allowed you to.

Ron kept careful count of the time going by though, knowing your limits, having committed them to memory, and when you first gave his wrist a tap he knew you were backing out prematurely. When he refused your first request, he felt your pussy flutter around him, the adrenaline on the verge of surging through you and breaking away into panic. Your vision started to blur and you tapped again, and that time, Ron obliged.

You sucked in a gasp of air, panting in shorter, more panicked breaths for a moment while his hand still rested over your throat as he admired you like that.

He’d ruin you and you’d gladly let him.

But something then seemed to occur to him as his fingers traced down to the line of your collarbones and the supple flesh of your breasts.

Those perked little nipples of yours were looking awfully neglected. And what kind of boyfriend would Ron be if he let that stand?

You let out a squeak when his mouth found the first pebbled bud, being gentle at first, teasing you with his lips and tongue until you were arching your back to push further into the wet warmth of his mouth. Ron had to hold your hips down as you began to squirm, wanting to feel every little shiver, tremble, and twitch your body made as he granted you more pleasure, each reaction felt as your cunt massaged his girth to varying degrees.

As his mouth tended to one side, his fingers took care of the other, only switching when he felt like your reactions became less intense. You were so sensitive everywhere he touched you, it seemed, so delicate to his ministrations, he could play you like a harp. And, in return, you’d make the most beautiful, melodic music for him as his fingers pulled at your strings, your moans the prettiest sound he’d ever heard.

But once your stomach started clenching in rapid succession, Ron knew he had to take a short intermission on this song you two were composing together. Just long enough to ensure you made it through to the encore, at least.

Lifting one of your legs, Ron threw it over one of his freckled shoulders to spread you even wider for him, sinking in so deep you swore you could feel him in your tummy, the mere implication making another rolling wave of arousal course through you and causing Ron to breathe out another one of those helpless, stuttering curses. His muscles clench as he rolls his hips in to meet yours, back to being slow and controlled.

But you needed more.

You needed it rougher.

“Harder…” you pleaded, breathless and wanting. 

Ron readjusted the both of you, once again taking your wrists in his grip and pinning them both beside your head, something to anchor you down for what came next, but you coaxed him to let you lock your fingers with his. It feels more intimate his way, and already knowing how rough he can get when you ask for it you feel better knowing that this simple act of handholding will help to balance out the consequences of his strength.

Ron starts to pick up speed, each time pulling almost all the way out before spearing his cock back into you, likely hard enough to ensure he was going to have to take care of you all day tomorrow, his poor little baby too sore and raw to even get out of bed on her own. 

But that’s ok.

That’s what he’s here for, after all.

His glasses begin to fog and his breathing is reduced to shallow panting, the shimmering veil of sweat that covers you both thickening under the growing humidity emanating from your bodies.

When the next request to roll off your tongue is a slurred whine of, “Bite me, Daddy…” Ron doesn’t hesitate that time. He lets go of your wrists, leans down and sinks his teeth into the tender spot between your neck and shoulder, letting out a desperate whine of his own when you followed up with a pained, shuddering exhale of, “Harder​​—”

You let out a yelp as you thrash beneath him, Ron increasing the pressure until the skin breaks and he tastes blood. But he doesn’t let go. Not yet. Because your trembling little hands have formed tight fists in his strawberry blonde locks, pulling so hard at the roots that his scalp prickles with sharp, staticky pain. Just when it was becoming too much, you yanked his head back hard enough that he takes the cue to unlatch his bite from your flesh, pink-tinted strands of saliva keeping his mouth connected to the new wound he’s gifted you for a moment before he created enough distance to have them break.

You were both panting and shaking, like two animals on the verge of death, and when he saw the vicious red indents carved out in the shape of his mouth, saw the blood that was trying to well in the deepest parts of the injury where his incisors had pierced straight through, Ron felt a small sense of dread for a moment. Because, as much as this has become to be expected between the two of you sometimes, he couldn’t help but fear he might go too far. That he might hurt you for real, in a way you wouldn’t get some sick sense of pleasure from, and that you’d stare up at him with fear instead of love.

But, looking down at you now, all he can seem to find as he searches your gaze is that beautiful, tender adoration that he’s pretty sure he would die without at this point.

But now it was time to finish this.

You were both close to the edge.

Ron preferred when you fell together.

Once again, his motions become rhythmic and savoring, ever the master of the push and pull between control and carnality, though kept up the speed needed to match each other’s oncoming orgasms.

He’d come to know your body so well, how it reacted and responded to his, that the moment he felt your stomach return to its rapid fluttering, like a little bird taking flight, legs tensing as your cunt constricted around his cock harder than before, he knew you were mere seconds away from coming undone. After three more thrusts, he’s right there with you, spilling his balmy warmth into your tight wet heat as you gush your glistening arousal all over his cock, both of you making a mess of each other in tandem before all that heady tension begins to slowly bleed away, leaving the both of you to fall slack and satisfied, the air heavy with the scent of your unrestricted love.

But Ron doesn’t pull out just yet. He likes to feel the aftershocks, the way your pussy flutters weakly around him as he goes soft, both of your combined juices drooling out of your abused little hole and staining the bedsheets below while your bodies are still one.

Once some of his senses returned to him, Ron carefully pulled out, bringing a trail of cum along with his blushing cock, and scooped you up in his arms so you could lay draped across his damp chest, his hair a tangled, tousled mess and his glasses smudged, yet something about him being disheveled like that only added to his charm.

He liked to let you doze off, if you wanted to, gently stroking your arm or your back or your hip with one hand while your eyelids became increasingly heavier until they had no choice but to fall closed, allowing him to tend to you once you’d fallen asleep. But when his fingers lightly traced along your shoulder and you winced, sucking in a small, sharp hiss, Ron remembered the mark he left there, the blood having rusted over to glaze the wound closed, but only just barely. Now that some of the adrenaline had worn off, he knew you must feel the sting, all the cuts and bruises he’s caused you flaring back to life and pulsing with the aftermath of the pain.

“I’ll be right back, baby,” he whispers to you as he carefully shifts you over to lay your heavy head on the pillow, venturing into the bathroom to gather all the things he needs to help nurse some of those wounds born from the heat of the moment.

You wait patiently for him to return, blinking open half-lidded eyes to gaze up at him as he reclaimed his seat on the edge of the bed. He praises you as he cleans the bite, tells you what a good girl you were for him, how brave you are when he dabs some disinfectant on the imprint of his teeth and you barely even whimper at the sting of the salve. He looks over your neck, the bruises darkening, and asks you if it still hurts. You shake your head, say you can barely even feel that one, and he hums out a note that alludes to being pleased, but also hints at something secretly prideful as well.

Because who would’ve been able to guess what a high tolerance for pain his perfect little princess hid so skillfully from those around her, a dirty, sinful little secret concealed beneath cute, flouncy little outfits and pretty hair and glossy lips.

But, the best part, it was a tolerance only Ron got to test.

A standard he got to help create.

“I know it hurts, baby…” Ron murmurs as he carefully cleans your sore little hole with a warm washcloth, gently dragging it through your folds to collect all the cum that’s begun to glaze over your skin and harden into salty crystals. “But you’re being so good. Almost done…”

Once he’d dressed you in one of his oversized t-shirts and placed a goodnight kiss to your forehead, Ron tucked you in under a clean blanket and returned to the bathroom to take care of his own mess. He tried to make it quick, knowing there’s a good chance you’d already be asleep before he’s able to curl up next to you, but when he returns and you’re still awake, he can’t help but give you another one of those soft smiles.

“You didn’t have to wait for me,” he kindly reminded you, though he’s glad you did.

When his chest is pressed to your back, his warm arms wrapped around your middle, you unexpectedly shift to turn and face him. He considered you with a slightly puzzled glance, but then you were leaning forward to press your lips to his, your tongue teasing at one corner of his mouth before pulling back.

“There was a little blood,” you told him, those adorable doe-eyes of yours that could just about hypnotize him glittering in the dark, “but I got it…”

Ron sighed out a tired chuckle through his nose as he tugged you in closer to his chest, letting you get comfortable as you found the right angle to intertwine your legs.

“Night, baby,” he cooed. “I love you.”

“I love you, too…” you replied, already sounding halfway to a dream.

And, as if he ever needed a reminder, Ron falls asleep feeling like the luckiest man alive.

Lucky, because he’s the only one in the entire world who gets to call you his.

[commonzinnia]

you are still responsible for your behavior! hope this helps ✨️💖💞

i didnt say i wasnt! hope this helps 🫶🫶🫶

[hypermoyashi]

[Image Description: A guest ao3 user with a redacted name over a comment reading, "Nobody is going to lose their shit over someone being a demisexual. Lmao nobody gives a shit about it. Some people really wanna be oppressed huh"

A reply from the fic writer below reads, "You know, I’d be less disappointed in you and this comment if I didn’t have a giant beginning author’s note explaining that this whole fic was based on my real-life experiences as a non-binary demi person. So I hate to break it to you, but I have had people freak out on me when I tried to come out as demi to them.

There’s a term my girlfriend used—the “oppression olympics.” It’s where some queer people make oppression and who faces the worst of it some sort of competition, and ace people have been perpetually excluded from and minimized from the community because we’re “not oppressed enough.” This is something I had to unlearn when I was going through my journey, because I always saw myself as a less legitimate member of it growing up because my friends suffered more. I had friends whose mothers would cry at the sight of them in a skirt. I had friends who were made to sleep on their porches. And me? Well, I looked straight. I looked cis. I didn’t date. I didn’t know who I was. So if someone who’s faced more hardship because of their identity tells me that my identity is harmful to them, was I going to believe them? As a young, questioning queer person, I did. This was ten years ago. The community from back then isn’t the same community it is today.

The thing of it is, is that your identity shouldn’t be defined by how oppressed you are. Being oppressed doesn’t somehow make you more or less legitimate. Being queer isn’t about that. We’re more than our oppression.

Sharing this wasn’t about going “oh I’m so oppressed, give me attention.” It was just about sharing my experiences online through my writing. There are ace people who have experienced far worse than me, and while my heart goes out to them, it doesn’t make my experience any less valid. We all go through different journeys, and we experience different things. Being able to share these journeys with one another is a part of what makes creating so rewarding.

So yes, Mx. Redacted Username, I am disappointed in you. I think it’s sad that, as a member of the LGBTQIA+ community judging on your username, you would come on here to actively discourage ace people from sharing their experiences. I wonder if you would do the same to a trans, non-binary, lesbian, or gay person talking about experiences related to those identities. I’m afraid you might be doing an acephobia here, Mx. Redacted Username, by actively discouraging ace people from sharing their experiences.

So I hope you take a moment to sit down and re-examine your internal bias and why you would bother to come online and tell ace people to shut up. But at the end of that day? We’re all members of the LGBTQIA+ community. I think we should make efforts to make it a more welcoming and inclusive community, and when people share their experiences? Well, I think we should listen and not dismiss people."]

So. My point in sharing this on Tumblr is that it's important to recognize that acephobic attitudes are still alive and well, even in fandom communities, and it's important to stop and examine your internal bias every now and then.

And most importantly? If you're about to leave a comment on a fic where a writer has shared their own personal experience, and you're going to tell them in any way, shape, or form that they should shut up? Maybe don't leave that comment and take a step back.

[manchesterau]

i saw dan at the pink pony club