#the ex diaries

[la-cocotte-de-paris]

My pussy got so wet while I was masturbating like way quicker and wetter than usual wow being out of a toxic situaionship is doing wonders for me

[ophernelia]

@brookie: “i hate when short girls date tall men” just say you want my man atp ho

beginning | next

[achillean-knight]

Screaming and crying bc these were so fuckin' fun to draw bro

[extrastranszanepropaganda]

MCD Rewrite - Aphmau

FIVE CHARACTERS IN AND IM FINALLY TO THE MAIN CHARACTER!!!

EAT YOUR HEART OUT ITS MY TRAUMATIZED BABY!

[namisin]

18+ content, MDNI. had to get this one off my chest after listening to August again.

the last thing you expected to hear after the automatic voicemail message, was your ex-boyfriend's voice crackling through the speaker.

"hey," he greeted, sounding breathless, "been a while, right?"

gojo fucking satoru. the two of you had broken up well over six months ago, with him citing he just didn't have the time to juggle a girlfriend and curse-slaying anymore. you let him go amicably, why push something that wasn't working out for you both, right?

considering he was the one to break up with you, his appearance in your voicemail box was wholly out of left field.

"i know, i know...we broke up a while ago, and i'm over you- i swear! i just, uh, saw your last instagram post."

your brows furrowed over narrowed eyes; the fuck was he doing stalking your socials?

"i probably shouldn't be this pissed off about it, but you moved on, huh? postin' each other now, congrats. must be serious."

it didn't sound very congratulatory, you noted. it sounded more like he wanted to rip the guy's head clean off.

"i know this is pretty outta pocket of me, but, speakin' of photos... i found a pretty cute one goin' back through my gallery. can you guess which one?"

the fuck was he doing still looking at old pics of you?

"yea i know, there's a lot of cute ones of you to pick from... but it's the one of you on my floor, with your ass way up in the air 'n my dick in your mouth."

embarrassed heat slithered across your cheeks; you remembered it vividly.

"like your outfit in this one too. it-it was a fun one to take off that night. remember how fucking insatiable you were for me? sitting in my lap, rubbing me through my pants... shit... i was sure everyone would see how hard you made me. had to get you home quick and shove my dick in your mouth to finally shut you up."

hearing his chuckles hiss through your phone, you wanted to reach through it and smack the smug look off his face you just knew was there. you still couldn't help but notice how his breath hitched, catching on his words.

"anyway, i-i called to see... to see if you'd let me fuck one more time. for old time's sake. i know i could treat you so much better, so c'mon princess. le'me fuck you just one more time. make you cream and drool and fuckin' squirt all over me just one more time. you know i'm good for it."

it was wrong — you knew it was wrong and it pitted your chest — but you just couldn't help the way your thighs pressed together. he wasn't wrong about being good for it, though.

"i know you never lost my number so call me, huh? or don't. i'll get it if you don't, i'll even delete the photos but- i know you still want this, princess. say the word and i'll come pick you up from your lil' boy toy, show you how you're meant to be fucked. i know he isn't doing it like i can, so—"

"—call me, yea?"

[greywolfheirs]

I'm reading Network Effect and laughing at ART being such a veritable Shithead to humans but when it comes to Murderbot being like 🥺 babygirl (gn) talk to me 🥺 we're besties right??? 🥺

[biblixphilia]

a love letter to Bosnia 🤍

(photos by me)

[mangotelevision]

minecraft diaries x warrior cats part 2

[cancerian-woman]

I saw someone (not on here lol) claim Bonnie and Damon gave off sibling vibes…where? What siblings act like that? You know what siblings do act like a couple Klaus and Rebekah lol. It’s ironic how quick people are to pull the “siblings card!” with Bamon. Lastly when people realize Bamon not happening has nothing to do with Elena and a lot to do with the racism towards Bonnie then we can have a chat!

[bolontiku]

Wow. I just found a diary from when I was dating the abusive ex. What the fuck was I doing??

[hahappydrink]

Him:

Also him:

[extrastranszanepropaganda]

MCD Rewrite - Dante

ITS THE BABY BOYYYYYYYY!!! He makes me so happy omg

[nagitosstolenhand]

i still cannot believe laurance somehow got custody of zenix in the garrence divorce

[academic-vampire]

“Yes, I was infatuated with you; I am still. No one has ever heightened such a keen capacity of physical sensation in me. I cut you out because I couldn't stand being a passing fancy. Before I give my body, I must give my thoughts, my mind, my dreams. And you weren't having any of those.”

-Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath - July 1950 - July 1953

[corpium]

a future excerpt from By Any Means

Harry turns around, good mood vanishing. “Oh, would you fuck off already?” he asks Tom, who’s propped up against one of the trees like the bloody poser he is. Blood’s still smeared across his face from the roses’ thorns.

“Do you not want me here?” Tom asks. “I thought you missed me.”

Tensing, Harry shifts his weight. “I miss you like a hole in the head,” he says.

“Ouch.” Tom pushes off the tree and ambles toward him, hands in his pocket. “Such cruel words, Harry.”

Harry holds his ground, fists clenching. Awareness prickles at the edge of his senses. “It’s the least you deserve.”

Tom comes to a stop before him, a hand coming up towards Harry’s chin.

Harry slaps it away. “Don’t touch me,” he snarls.

Tom stills, assessing Harry with red, snakelike eyes. They jog something loose in Harry’s head. They aren’t supposed to look like that. Harry takes a step back; Tom takes one forward, eating up the space.

“I thought you liked it when I touched you,” Tom says.

Harry shores himself up again and plants his feet. “You disgust me,” he says.

“Do I?” With a clinical tilt of his head, Tom takes another step into Harry’s space. Harry stays in place, muscles practically vibrating with tension. Mere inches hold them apart. “And yet, you allow me so close.” His face tilts downward; his hands rise, one to Harry’s waist, the other up to Harry’s cheek—

Harry punches him in the gut. “Fuck you!” Even as Tom doubles over, Harry tackles him to the ground. He rains punches down on Tom’s face—he wants to ruin it. “You deluded twat!” he rants. “I hate you. I hate you, I—”

Tom’s shock wears off. His legs shift, his abdomen flexing—

He rolls Harry over, and the world rolls with him, and suddenly Harry’s not looking at Tom anymore. He’s looking up at Voldemort in all his snakelike glory.

“What,” Harry croaks, going still. The light’s changed, having darkened to that of an enclosed room lit by a crackling fire. He’s lying back on a bed—a very plush, comfortable bed. Voldemort’s hands are on his wrists. He leans over Harry, pinning him down like some unearthly demon.

“We’re in my dream now, Harry,” says Voldemort, grinning down at him with unholy avarice. “Do I still disgust you?”

Blinking, Harry swallows, the fog of his dream fading. Appease, appease, appease, his instincts scream, a holdover from his time with the Dursleys. “I—I thought you were just a dream.” But this is still a dream, isn’t it? Is this real?

Voldemort’s long fingers clench around Harry’s wrists. He does not move away. “And now you have decided that I am very much myself,” he surmises. “Are you certain?”

Harry inhales deeply, finding himself frozen. He observes his surroundings. There’s a wavering edge to the room, a soft lack of detail in the wood of the walls, an overly warm brightness to the fire. But Voldemort is real and solid above him, his grip much too present and his eyes far too keen. Harry nods, ever so slightly. “What do you want?” he whispers. He tries to think ahead, to plan, to remember what he shouldn’t be saying, but under the weight of Voldemort’s attention, his thoughts elude him.

Voldemort’s eyes drag downward, making heat rise under Harry’s skin. “Everything,” says Voldemort. “Everything that you are. I want it all.”

Wordless, Harry shakes his head in denial.

Miraculously, Voldemort pulls back. His weight on Harry’s legs makes Harry’s stomach twist. “All in good time,” he says, peering down at Harry in contemplation. “It intrigues me, Harry, to observe your reactions to my many faces. Why, I dare say, you may dislike my youthful visage more than I do.” He tilts his head, peering down at Harry. “Tell me, darling—”

The pet name sends a complicated array of emotions coursing through Harry. ‘Darling?’ he wants to yell, but at the same time, no, he really doesn’t. He wants away more than anything. Harry jerks up, legs twisting—

Voldemort pins him down once more by his wrists, nails digging in, his expression frighteningly impassive. It’s that eerie impassivity that stills Harry once again. “What did he do to you?” Voldemort asks quietly.

“He was a psychotic murderer,” Harry snarls. “You were—are—a psychotic murderer,” he adds, half to remind himself.

“That’s not quite it, is it?” Voldemort traces a thumb over Harry’s bare wrist. Harry suppresses a shiver. “No, your hatred runs deeper than that.”

“Stop it,” Harry snaps, squirming and failing to get away. “Stop—bloody guessing. You don’t know anything.”

“He was impetuous, I am certain,” Voldemort says. “Impatient. Too blinded by his need to escape the diary to see what a gift he beheld.”

“’A gift’?” Harry splutters.

Voldemort ignores him. He raises Harry’s wrists over his head and changes his grip to hold them together in one large hand. His other hand, warm to the touch against Harry’s death-chilled skin, trails down Harry’s gray arm, nails grazing the skin. It slides down Harry’s shirt, a fraying, threadbare thing, dirty from working in the garden.

“Hey—” Harry says, starting to squirm again as Voldemort’s touch slips under his shirt. Voldemort splays his fingers out and presses down, holding Harry in place, nails pricking threateningly into the delicate flesh of his abdomen.

Harry tests Voldemort’s hold on his wrists and finds no give.

“Did he charm you, Harry?” Voldemort’s robes drape over Harry, shifting softly as he presses closer. “Did he seduce you?”

The air feels thick. Harry looks away, grinding his teeth.

“Did he break your heart?”

Harry blinks rapidly. His breath shudders. “Shut. Up.”

Voldemort clicks his tongue. “I was quite foolish in my youth.” He strokes his thumb over Harry’s belly, sending a curl of unwelcome pleasure up Harry’s spine. He shifts lower, his face coming unbearably close. (If he looked like the Tom Harry had known, Harry would bite him. But he looks just different enough, otherworldly enough, to utterly baffle Harry’s impulses.) “Would you like me to apologize?” Voldemort murmurs.

“I would like you,” Harry finds himself saying, voice small, “to leave me alone.”