#YES im drunk

[softwaring]

if ur coherent on tumblr like why are you here rn this is for the exemplary hoes who have no idea tf is going on

[theotherhalfoftheshell]

What you read is what you want in a relationship-

Yeah, and what about it?

Yes, I want someone to want me, need me, crave me. I want someone to go delirious over how much they think of me and only me. I want them to double text me, daydream about me, and relate every single song they hear to me. I want to be their God and savior and, in the same hand, their devil and downfall. Is that too much to ask?? No, not really. Because every crush I have. I gove that energy to, and it's about damn time I receive the same treatment.

[mooninagust]

Do you guys think hanji knows i love him as much as i do

[nagdabbit]

in dungeons and daddies, ron stampler, played by beth may, thought he was a virgin because his wife always called it making love and therefore does not realize that he has had sex, and i like to think jay white is like that, but that he doesn't know what love making is either

[sugaggukkie]

ID FUCK MIN YOONGI

[femaleboysblog]

ive stopped drinking alcohol for so long that now im getting those alcohol flushes.......

[joridrw]

the drunk urge to just take a bit out of a full loaf of bread

[namelessperson7]

drinking with liberal boomers from alabama makes for very pleasant conversation

[elyssasnow]

I wanna cuddle but my wife doesn't cuddle and I love her but I want to cuddle and I miss my other wife that likes to cuddle

[jaspersbaseballsack]

It's the fact that so far Armand is the most inhuman monstrous vampire still walking the earth that we as readers have met. And yet we see him fall hopelessly in love with the most ordinary human man.

[multicolouredmonster]

Leola was sentenced to death for teaching humans the basics of Primal Magic

centuries later, Aaravos taught humans Dark Magic

using Dark Magic causes "a darkness at the center of one's soul"

that "darkness" can only be cured by filling it with the "light" of the person truth

Aaravos refered to Leola as a star, and the light in his life

Aaravos used to have a solid star symbol on his chest - after Leolas' death, the symbol is inverted and has a hollow dark void at its centre

Something, something, blah blah - in order to use magic, Aaravos ensured that humans must experience the hollow void at the center of their soul that he feels every single day since his daughters execution.

She died to give them magic, he ensured that they feel the full weight of her sacrifice just as much as he does

[mintgreen-homewrecker]

my mom barely tolerates it to the point where she refuses to acknowledge it

when u have another gender identity crisis and u realize for the final time that ur obsession with Whizzer is in fact a trans thing

[soundleer]

"one day, he will return... more powerful than ever..."

————————

something something sprunki feral AU nightmare scene thingy hyee :33

without subtitles:

tunner design and AU collab w/: @cilahax!!

[mindmythorns]

sparkly sparkler ✨

[vaperarmand]

can we hold hands and listen to this together

[oceantornadoo]

put me to bed (simon riley x f!reader)

part 6 of the two lieutenants series (can be read standalone)

—

“siii.” you knocked again. “simon, it’s meee.”

the door swung open and you almost stumbled through, the alcohol in your veins refusing to keep you upright. however, your reflexes won the fight for balance, right hand shooting out to grab at the door frame. you were face to face with simon’s pajamas, a relaxed t-shirt and sweats you’d never seen him in. it felt almost illegal, like this sight was meant for someone else. like you stole it.

“‘case you haven’t noticed, ‘s 2am.” his voice was low and gravel-filled. “i know, si. not even close to your bedtime yet.” the aching truth of your point, that he never sleeps before 3am, was softened by your drunk hiccup. you finally took the effort to raise your head, eyes locking onto his. he didn’t have his mask on, a sight you usually treasured sober, but now, it made drunk you mad. real mad.

“whatever, fuck this. jus’ wanted to say goodnight since you didn’t want to come out with us. with me.” you turned with a vengeance, stumbling in your going-out shoes as you made for your own room across base. before you could get too far, simon grabbed your arm, tugging you into his intoxicating presence. “had some paperwork to finish, dove. don’t get your panties in a twist.” you gasped. "i didn’t realize british people actually said shit like that. and", you punctuated this with a finger to his chest, “don’t think about my panties, riley. those words don’t exist to you.” he didn’t respond. typical man.

a few seconds later, he showed you why. he swooped you up bridal style with the gall of a military man who had to practice rescuing teammates in gear twice your size. he even caught your purse as it dropped to the floor, thick fingers wrapping around cheap leather as he settled all of you into place. “cheeky fucker.” he murmured under his breath, more to himself than to you. simon turned and locked his door, then strode down the hall like this was normal, everyday behavior. the swaying motion mixed with the drinks in your stomach and you gripped his shirt in fear that you’d throw up on. simon didn’t seem to care, prioritizing speed as he searched for your room. after a few minutes of charged silence, and prayers for a calm stomach on your end, he set you down with the gentleness of a man taking in a stray. all light touches, coaxing your keys out of your purse while keeping you upright as you swayed against him. simon opened the door and ushered you in with restrained arrogance, like he could tell you what to do.

“bed, dove.” instead of walking over to your bed, you gripped his bicep and held him in place. “no shoes. germs.” he chuckled, fingers ghosting over your cheek as he rubbed at your smeared makeup. “go’on.” you squeezed his arm as you bent down to take your shoes off. his hand found your lower back to balance you, but he was content to watch you struggle with your strappy heels. call it retribution for disturbing his night.

“can’t get ‘em off, pretty girl?” you shook your head, then remembered he couldn’t see you in the darkness of your room. “no…” he maneuvered you to your bed, ignoring your protests, and plopped you down, hands firm on your waist. “no light, si.” turning on the light would ruin this peaceful silence, would bring reality back into the mix. you weren’t ready for that, content to stay in this cloud nine as you sobered up and let simon take care of you. he answered you by taking off your shoes, one by one. simon was trying to treasure your sudden docileness, fumbling with your shoes as he thought of his next excuse to stay longer. maybe help you take your makeup off? he assumed you’d want to with that deliriously endearing mess of lipstick on your face. the image of you kissing someone at the bar arose unbidden in his mind, and he squashed it with a glare. unfortunately, that was when your hands had decided to explore his face in the dark, fingers tracing the lines of his anger. “i’m sorry. you’re angry. i just thought- but ‘sokay, i can do the rest. thanks for your help, l.t.” he jerked his head up at the nickname, a sudden nod to the context of your relationship, the two lieutenants of the 141. it felt dirty here, to put a light on all the reasons why this couldn’t happen.

“‘s not you, ‘s the shoes. bloody death traps.” he had finally finished the second one, slipping it off neatly so it wouldn’t dirty your floor. “what’s next?” you hummed in thought. “shower. no outside clothes in bed!” you ended with a cheer. simon wondered how you showered drunk all those times before him, then quickly regretted imagining you naked and wet. “come on.” he walked you two to your en-suite shower (perks of being a lieutenant, not that you were on base enough to take advantage of it). regrettably, he turned on the bathroom light, trying to ignore how your body scrunched up. “need my makeup remover.” you pointed to a blue container and he grabbed it. “i can do it-“ he genuinely shushed you with a finger to the lips, shaking his head. “show me.” he nodded to the unscrewed container. you took his fingers in your hand, dipping them into the oily balm. you moved them to your face, dragging them across your skin ungracefully. “then you kinda massage it in. make sure you get everywhere, can’t mess up my routine.” his lips quirked up at your sass. some things never changed.

simon moved his fingers around your face, rubbing off layers of foundation, setting powder, and everything in between. his free hand settled at your waist, keeping you steady under his touch. he took a pointer finger to your lips, dragging his callouses over your soft skin, memorizing the feel of it. he took care with your lashes, gently closing your eyes before rubbing off your mascara. he made sure to go up to your hairline, like he’d seen in the movies. simon riley didn’t know how to be gentle, but he’d try for you.

“now what?” the question moved through the still air as if breaking a trance. you almost flinched at the intrusion, having practically fallen asleep standing in his arms. “shower.” you croaked out, all soft and sweet. “can you unzip me?” he nodded even though your eyes remained closed, his hand on your waist turning you around until your stomach kissed the bathroom counter. using his clean hand, simon traced the bare skin above your dress before settling on the zipper. he brought himself closer, pelvis kissing your backside as he tried to control his body’s reaction. unfortunately, you noticed. he was starting to hate how visible he was to you, ghost gone to the wind.

“simon.” you rewarded him with a throaty moan, dropping your elbows on the counter as you pushed your ass into him. “please, please si.” he continued to drag the zipper down like he counted hear you, revealing each torturous inch of skin. “be good.” he growled, your spine straightening at the command. “lieutenant.” you were mewling under him, the dregs of alcohol making you all pliant. he didn’t want you like that for your first time together, putty in his hands. he wanted your bark and bite, which wouldn’t happen tonight. it didn't matter. ghost was a very patient man. “done.” you dropped your arms and the dress dropped with them, revealing your lack of bra and lace panties. here he was again, thinking of your panties. your eyes were still closed under the weight of the oil on your skin, giving him an unabashed view of your breasts in the mirror. perfect.

simon wiped his makeup-stained hand on his shirt, not caring about the marks it would leave. his thumbs met either side of your waist, digging into your skin and under your panties, pulling them down easily. you were wet between your thighs, proof staining your underwear. he sucked in a harsh breath at the evidence of your need, evidence it wasn’t all in his head. instead of pressing his nose to the source of your arousal, he left your side to turn on your shower. water running, he stepped back and put a guiding hand on your waist. “go’on.” you followed meekly, muscle memory taking over as you stepped into the shower. you tilted your head to the spray of water, clearing off your face. he chose to not close the shower curtain, opting to watch you clear the mess and open your eyes with a grin. “shower with me.” he shook his head, holding back a grimace as he watched the smile die on your face. "no, baby." always ruining things, like his fucking father. "then why are you here?" he shook his head again, regretting that the shower had sobered you up. regretting how he still hadn't closed the shower curtain, letting water spray on the floor as he drank in your body. regretting his clear lack of self-control when it came to you. "you know why." he closed the shower curtain and left.

he didn't actually leave. he was too weak for that. instead, he searched through your drawers, finding those shorts you always wore paired with his shirt you stole months ago and never gave back. it smelled like you now, and he wasn't sure how he felt about that. the shower shut off, sounds of you brushing your teeth and putting on lotion floating through the air. he turned on your lamp and set out a glass of water, suddenly feeling awkward in your space. simon turned and there you were, water dripping on the floor, towel gripped loosely.

"i thought you left." he shook his head, forcing himself to gesture to the clothes he set out. instead of thanking him, you dropped your towel on the floor. simon hissed, sucking in the sight of your moisturized skin, the scent of it calming him. you, mostly sober now, trotted over to the clothes, putting them on nonchalantly. "if you won't fuck me, you can leave. i'm sorry for waking you up." lie. you both knew he was already awake when you knocked. simon had been texting soap for updates all through the night, knowing you were on your way back before you knocked. "c'mon." he ignored you completely, instead pulling at your covers to get you in bed. you rolled your eyes but followed his command, brushing past him as you got in bed. "g'night, dove." he turned off the lamp solemnly, no reflection of emotion on his face. "simon." he paused, holding his breath. "stay." you could hear him thinking in the dark. "not gonna fuck you. not tonight. it's more t' me than that." you smiled. "i know. stay."

--

i try not to write anything body size specific but i headcanon that simon riley is #thick in all the ways that matter and can lift anyone (even if you identify as a fat person or a tall person or anything in between) if he tries hard enough. i hope that sentence didn't take you out of the reading experience!!!

also i have no idea how military bases are laid out so ignore that