#xx. SELF REBLOG

[stillllhere]

indie. semi-selective. written by emily. (18+)

featuring a new york based, crossover-friendly, SUPERHERO AU of glee's kurt hummel, ran as a sideblog for @porcelainperformer

[wormthing]

The snowglobe rabbit in question ::-] I got her at a thrift store. I'm saying goodbye to her and giving her to a thrift store again. I hope someone out there will give her a good home, lopsided and all!

A rabbit character from this snowglobe.

[mishellii]

♢ꜱʟᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ♢

ɴᴀʀᴜᴛᴏ, ꜱᴀꜱᴜᴋᴇ, ᴋɪʙᴀ, ꜱʜɪᴋᴀᴍᴀʀᴜ, ɴᴇᴊɪ & ᴋᴀᴋᴀꜱʜɪ

a/n: sooo my first headcanons yeiih!! this just came flowing out of me while watching boruto tbh because i'm delusional lmao,,,, anyway, very self indulgent as always :) ignore typos pls i cant spell aaaand enjoy xx

likes & reblogs appreciated <3

warnings: none! SFW :) not proofread

masterlist

♢ɴᴀʀᴜᴛᴏ ᴜᴢᴜᴍᴀᴋɪ♢

✿sUCH a messy sleeper

❀he'd toss and turn throughout the whole night, ending up somewhere completely different than where he fell asleep on the bed

❀matching pyjama sets !!!

✿especially seasonal ones, he adores them

✿BLANKET HOGGER !!!

❀but not on purpose really, he just pulls it with him due to all his movements

✿u always wake up with it either on the floor or him laying atop of it

❀sometimes he hits u with his elbow or his feet, but pls don't tell him he WILL cry

✿just push him away, boy will not wake up under any circumstances

❀the both of u alWAYS cuddle when falling asleep

✿the usual position is with his arms around your waist, legs thrown over ur own and his face resting next to ur shoulder

❀for that exact reason he's a BIG SPOON !!

❀so so quick to fall asleep, and wakes up after u as well

✿but not at all groggy in the morning !! he's energetic from the second he opens his eyes and sees u preparing breakfast

❀overall just the softest boyfriend ever

♢ꜱᴀꜱᴜᴋᴇ ᴜᴄʜɪʜᴀ♢

❀now thIS dude sleeps like a corpse

✿he's not particularly prone on cuddling u, but he fairly enjoys having ur head on his chest and feeling ur fingertips draw circles against his skin

❀he'd never admit it tho obviously

✿mostly wears a black lose t-shirt and some short sweats or sumn 

❀just comfortable all around

✿i'm a firm believer in the back position

❀laying flat on the mattress, one arm either around u, or both resting on his belly

✿light sleeper, if i may

❀takes him pretty long to fall asleep as well, but counting ur breath usually calms him and makes it easier

✿u make everything easier for him actually

❀doesn't really care about a blanket, it all really depends on what u prefer while sleeping

✿often awoken by nightmares, but won't ever wake u up or tell u the next day because he thinks it's embarrassing

❀refuses to leave the bed in the morning, but isn't moody at all just very quiet

✿always helps u make breakfast and makes the bed without having to ask him to

❀overall just a calm lover

♢ᴋɪʙᴀ ɪɴᴜᴢᴜᴋᴀ♢

❀without a doubt, a snorer

✿like IM SORRY LADIES but c'mon

❀but not annoyingly loud, just breathy lil snores

✿the problem with it is: he won't move an INCH away from u ever, he's all up in ur business while sleeping

❀doesn't matter how, he's always got to feel u next to him somehow

✿i take him as a sleep talker too, mumbling incoherent words against your neck which only make u laugh tbh

❀akamaru's got his own bed next to the two of u, but some nights he crawls in between ur bodies, practically suffocating u

✿you really don't mind on colder nights, but in summer kiba makes him get off, due to having such a high body temperature already and he doesn't want u to complain even more

❀wore a shirt and pants at the beginning of ur relationship

✿but now??? u'd have to FORCE him to wear anything more than boxers

❀hates when u don't want to cuddle :(( might as well kill him fr

✿why need a blanket when he has you??

❀doesn't leave the bed AT ALL in the morning, u literally have to grab him by the feet and drag him out of it

✿he's a sweetheart, really

♢ꜱʜɪᴋᴀᴍᴀʀᴜ ɴᴀʀᴀ♢

❀dude HATES cuddling at the beginning of ur relationship, me thinks

✿but fear not, it just takes a bit of convincing from ur side and he's in on it

❀but it's subtle touches really, like holding his hand or having ur feet intertwined

✿if u've had a bad day, he'd definitely play with your hair to make u fall asleep, he's not a diCK

❀grey sweats all the way !!!!!

✿rarely ever wears a shirt, except for when it's cold of course

❀he seems much more like a light sleeper than not, but he's so grouchy when something wakes him up it's a drag really 

✿has to be completely dark and quiet in his room or he won't be able to close one eye

❀always sleeps on the side closest to the door

✿big on talking about both ur days at night because he's a very private person and loves spending time with u ALONE

❀deep talk at 2am?? u can bet on it

✿forehead kisses!!! once u wake up and neither of u want to get up and start ur day

❀he's such an attentive lover in general, i'm actually going insane 

♢ɴᴇᴊɪ ʜʏᴜɢᴀ♢

❀oh my lovely boy

✿i feel like he wouldn't move a MUSCLE while sleeping

❀sometimes you have to poke him to make sure he's still alive

✿AHEM

❀a light sleeper foshou

✿also ????

❀he would 100% wait for u to fall asleep first

✿would always run his fingertips over your back to make you tired

❀unfortunately, the closest to cuddling u two do, is ur head on his chest

✿he gets sweaty quickly, so he'll often sleep without a shirt (which u don't complain about obviously) and that's the reason why he doesn't necessarily NEED body contact (in this situation only!!)

❀but HUGE PLUS he'll sweet talk you to sleep almost every night 

✿asking about ur day from begin to end

❀he wants to know it ALL

✿in general, he's really big on making you as comfortable as possible before bed

❀would even wait till the morning to go pee because you look so peaceful laying on his chest

✿don't mind him watching u he just thinks ur so pretty ok

❀u wake up to the smell of coffee almost every morning

✿overall, as we been knew, the gentlest gentlemen to perhaps ever gentleman goodbye

♢ᴋᴀᴋᴀꜱʜɪ ʜᴀᴛᴀᴋ��♢

❀poor baby's the king of light sleepers

✿always ready to jump into battle and protect u if he has to, even if u convince him that ur safe and nothing's going to happen :(

❀casually wears a black tanktop and some sweats, mask and shinobi headband easily reachable on the bedside table at his right side

✿definitely enjoys u playing with his hair too much

❀he prefers to fall asleep with his head either on your chest or tugged just under your chin so he can hear you breathe and ur heart beat

✿he's so tragic oh my days

❀anYWAY light snores but only when he's REALLY gone and u rarely ever see him in this state so,,,,,

✿loves listening to ur stories before falling asleep

❀legs & arms intertwined and allathat 

✿you will never lay in bed without him picking up one of his books at least ONCE

❀it really calms him down u know

✿but start a conversation with him, and he's all urs, book long forgotten next to his mask and headband.

❀always wakes up earlier than u, preparing breakfast with said book between his fingers 

✿(he swears he'll close it once ur awake tho)

❀((he does))

a/n: AHEM i hope u liked it ???? pls tell me ??? AAAA i will see u beans next time bye bye xx

devider by @enchanthings

[cowboydisaster]

Dark Red

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader word count: 5.6k summary: The Task Force 141 goes out drinking, and you wind up on your stomach in Ghost's bed. If you knew it would only take a few rounds of drinks, you would have gotten drunk with him earlier. (eventual smut, lots of family 141 interactions beforehand) a/n: This is my first COD fic and also the first thing I've written since May, so go easy on me if it's ooc pls xx. If you like this fic please give a follow or a reblog, I'm fixing up my blog and I'll be writing a lot more Simon. beta read by @margowritesthings warnings: nsfw, 18+, minors dni (smut, fingering, size difference, doggy)

masterlist

Your dress is wrapped tightly around your frame, held up by tiny golden chains that drape over your shoulders. It's dark green, and just barely covers your ass. It's definitely not the tactical gear that you’re used to wearing. You swallow thickly, pulling it down over your thighs as much as possible as you glance over yourself in the mirror. You barely recognize the reflection in front of you. No eye black, no tac-vest or combat boots. Tonight you’re not a soldier, you’re a civilian.

Price had arranged a night out to celebrate the 141’s latest win. He invited the Task Force alongside some allies for drinks at a club of all places, figuring everyone deserved to unwind. You were hesitant at first, but the boys all reassured you it would be just a few drinks. 

Once all the little details of your outfit are in place, you give yourself a onceover before pushing open Price’s bathroom door. Ghost, Soap, Gaz, and Price are all leaning over the kitchen counter, speaking quietly about the mission. They smile, oblivious to you as you exit the bathroom, feeling a bit self conscious about the dress Kate insisted you wear. That is until Ghost catches a glimpse of you out of the corner of his eye and quietens. He turns, and you watch his back straighten, hands in the pockets of his jeans as his eyes slowly run up and down your body. Something about that stare… you wonder if Ghost would ever see you the way you see him. It's been years now of you pining after him. You could never tell him. He’s your lieutenant, and besides, you’ve heard what happens to the recruits who make a move on Ghost. Every single one of them was harshly rejected and dropped from the program. You can't compromise your job, especially not for someone who doesn’t want you back. 

 Ghost stares, and the other three men turn to you in sync. A fierce blush blooms across your face as four pairs of eyes land on you. Ghost is wearing that familiar balaclava, the one he wears out in public or around the base. It hides everything but his eyes, and you stare into their swirling depths for a moment before the eye contact becomes too much. You clear your throat, glancing down over your dress. 

“Too much…?” You whisper, questioning your choice of fashion and makeup. 

“No…Not too mu–” Ghost is cut off as Soap lunges forward with a smile bigger than Texas and slaps you on the arm.

“Lookin’ good, bonnie lass!” Soap laughs. He looks nice himself. You’ve only seen him in sweats around the base, but tonight all four of your teammates are dressed to the nines. 

“Not so bad yourself, Johnny.” You smile, clutching a small purse to your hip. 

“We ready then, Cap?” Gaz asks, glancing up from his phone for a moment, “Laswell just got there, said she brought König.” 

“Yes.” Price smiles at you, checking his watch, “I've ordered two Ubers. Should both be here.” 

You follow them outside, smiling and nodding to Ghost as he holds the door open for you. The Captain and Gaz take the first car while you file into the second with Ghost and Soap. Soap sits in the front, leaving you in the back with Ghost. Your lieutenant is quiet most of the ride over, letting Johnny fill the silence, which he does. But it's hard to focus on Soap talking. You’re hyper aware of the eyes on you and how exposed you are. Your breasts are practically pushed up into your face, and the dress suddenly feels all too tight. You’re used to fighting, not celebrating, not partying. You take a few deep breaths, knowing that once you get a few drinks in your system you’ll feel better. 

“You alright?” 

Your eyes flick up. It’s Ghost, just barely over a whisper. His eyes are fixated on something out of the window, but he still must have noticed your anxiety. You nod.

“Just nervous.” You admit, “I’m not used to all this.” You whisper, gesturing down to your dress and matching strappy heels, then to the car that is driving you through the nightlife. Ghost smirks under his mask. 

“Me neither. Bourbon helps.” He says. 

“You drink bourbon?” You ask, glancing over. Soap hasn’t noticed your little conversation and continues to chat up the driver. You hadn’t taken Ghost as a bourbon man, he’s piqued your curiosity. 

“I fancy Kentucky.” He remarks. You chuckle. 

“Don’t let him know that.” You nod your head in Soap’s direction. 

“Never.” Ghost smirks, adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves. Your eyes fixate on the tattoos lining his left arm, just briefly exposed. You force your eyes away, knowing if you stare too long you’ll get caught up in the intricate pattern. The thought of running your fingers over those tattoos lingers in your head, soothing you enough to make the ride. 

—

The club is nice. Colored lights stream from the ceiling, a steady thrum of music vibrates lowly through the walls. You take in your surroundings, watching people drink, and dance with one another. It's a bit dark, hard to make out faces. You take note of all the exits while following behind Gaz and Price, both leading you all towards a closed off section of the club. Laswell is already there waiting along with her wife and König. The man must have already had a few drinks because he’s more relaxed than you've ever seen him. König’s eyes immediately land on you, and flutter down to the short cut off of your dress. You gasp as a burly figure pushes past you, separating you from König’s eyes. Ghost. He stands between the two of you and starts unclipping the velvet rope that separates you from the VIP section, much to the bouncer’s frustration. You blush, looking back to König whose eyes are sheepishly staring at the floor. Ghost must have pulled out his famous deadly glare. Your cheeks burn red. 

“There you are!” Laswell exclaims, motioning for the bouncer to lift the velvet rope that secures her area. No one seems to have noticed the little interaction between Ghost and König, thankfully. 

“VIP?” You chuckle. “Was that some CIA shit?” You ask, passing into the nicer, more secluded area of the club. A couch wraps around the corner wall, a table sitting in front of it. 

“Afraid not.” She smiles, wrapping an arm around her wife’s shoulders. You take a seat on the couch, watching as Ghost motions for Price to follow him towards the bar.

“We’ll be back.” He mumbles. Price pats Ghost on the shoulder as you watch them leave. 

“So, König?” Soap asks as he sits down, nodding towards the masked man. You take note that a beanie rests atop his head in place of his usual tac helmet. 

“Hmm?” König asks, suddenly alert. His eyes dart until they land on Soap. 

“How many drinks is it gonna take for you to shed the mask?” The scot asks. König grows quiet, tightly gripping his beer bottle by the neck. 

“Nein, I do not–” König begins before Soap jumps up, fist down on the table. 

“Nine?!” Soap laughs, “Keep em comin’, Ghost!” Soap hollers towards the bar. König shakes his head profusely.  

“No, that is not what I meant.” König tries to clear the situation up, but is drowned out by noise as Gaz and Soap laugh together. Laswell shoots you a knowing glance. You feel for her, being the only woman to watch these children.  

“You went with the dress I suggested.” Laswell notes, a proud smile gracing her lips. 

“I did.” You remark, blushing, “It's a bit tighter than what I’m used to.” You admit, sitting up straighter as a few from the table look back to you. 

“That's the point.” Laswell laughs, shooting you a quick wink. 

Before you can ask what she means by that, Ghost and Price return with two trays of shots. Half the shots are a golden, bronze color and the others are crystal clear. You raise an eyebrow as Ghost sits down beside you. 

“Get your bourbon?” You ask. 

“Had three down at the bar. You’ve got some catching up to do, yeah?” 

As everyone plucks shots from the trays, Ghost slides three in front of you with his knuckles. Two bourbons and one of the clear liquor. 

“What's this?” You ask, picking up the shot and holding it under your nose. It burns your nostrils, stealing the air from your lungs and replacing it with a sharp sting. 

“Patrón.” Ghost replies with a smirk. Your eyes follow as he grabs a clear shot from the tray with one hand, and pulls his mask up over his lips with the other. You’ve never seen his lips before. He brings the small glass to his lips, and you try to memorize the shape of his them, the jut of his jaw. It's gone in a flash as he downs the shot like it’s water before pulling his balaclava down over his chin. 

“Your turn.” He smirks, giant hand pushing the shot glass towards you. 

You follow suit, throwing your head back and letting the alcohol slide down your throat. You grimace at its strength, making a sour face. 

“Fuckin hell.” You cough. 

“You’ve got a bit of catching up to do.” Laswell points out, nodding down the table. You notice as Gaz takes the last shot from the first tray and your eyes boggle. 

— 

An hour later

Steady music thumps through the building. It feels slow, sensual. Maybe it’s because you’re wasted, but your confidence is through the roof as you make your way across the dance floor. Your eyes are locked onto your group, specifically searching for Ghost. The more alcohol that enters your system, the more you find yourself staring at him, noticing his every movement, every breath. You’d never allow yourself these thoughts while sober– the thought of wanting your Lieutenant is out of the question when your mind is clear, but right now it’s not. Your eyes search for him as you make your way back to the VIP section. 

“Lt?” You ask, sliding back onto the velvet sofa. 

“Went for a piss.” Soap exclaims.

“Why don’t you go meet him in the bathroom, maybe he could finally bend ya ov–” Johnny starts. 

“Soap!” Price cuts him off harshly. Soap only laughs, looking down the table to Gaz and the Captain. You look between the two of them, absolutely oblivious to the jokes that have been passed around the table all night.

“Oh, come on, Captain! He wants her and everyone knows it. We all see that shriveled up, cold, dead heart meltin’ at the sight of this bonnie.” Soap points to you. 

“Bloody hell, we bet on it!” Gaz chuckles, adjusting his cap.

“I must admit, I do see it.” König adds in. You squint down the table at him, and he immediately looks away. Price looks down at the boys like he’s schooling children. Your mouth falls open, taking in all the new information. 

“Remember that's your lieutenant you’re talking about. Leave his private life alone. You know how Simon is.” Price interjects, stopping the conversation before it gets out of hand. You blush fiercely, taken aback by their words. You don’t even think about what they’ve said, you can’t. Price looks to you apologetically. 

“What?” You ask, looking between them. “Ghost?” You double check, making sure that your hearing hasn’t totally left you. 

“He’s gone on you, mate.” Gaz adds, tone more serious than you would have expected.

“Christ, just pass me another drink.” You say, extending your hand out as König slides a shot down the table.

—

Thirty minutes later

You can feel his eyes on you. They’re burning through the thin fabric of your dress, where your breasts rest perfectly inside the silk, where the curve of your ass swells just above the hem of the dress. Your cheeks blush, whether from his eyes or the alcohol you’re not sure. Ghost doesn’t even try to hide his gaze, openly staring at you across the floor. His bourbon is held tightly in his hand as he watches you twirl on the dance floor between Soap and König. The lights aren't nearly as bright as your smile, and the night isn’t nearly as dark as the glint in your eyes. 

Ghost had watched men approach you on several occasions, and each time Soap shoved them away from you. You hadn’t given any of them the time of day. But Ghost? You’re taunting him, testing his self control to the point that he’s about to break. Every swing of your hips accompanies a purposeful glint in your eyes, a subtle bite of your lip. You’re teasing him, and he can’t take it. 

He deserves it. This is payback. He’s been apparently wanting you for months, and everyone in the damn Task Force knew about it but you. You’ve had enough of it. You extend your drink out for Soap to hold, accidentally bumping it against his chest and spilling a bit down his shirt. He takes the glass with furrowed eyebrows, looking down at your tipsy frame.

“Where ya headin’ to?” He yells over the music. 

“Have to use the bathroom. I’ll be right back, j-just watch my drink.” You stumble over your words, eyes never leaving Ghost’s. Soap nods, taking your cocktail and continuing his conversation with König. 

Ghost inhales deeply from across the room, eyes fixated on the taunting little “come hither” motion of your finger. You turn away from him, making your way towards the VIP bathrooms. You walk slow enough that he can follow after you, not that you’re even capable of walking too fast, lest you lose your balance and fall over. You push past a few other people, your heart beating quickly as you go. The music is loud and the lights are low, which you’re grateful for. Hopefully no one notices Ghost trailing behind you. A warm buzz radiates in your chest, pulsing down your bones as the liquor you’ve been downing boosts your confidence and slows your movements. 

You push the door open, stepping into the dimly lit bathroom. It’s clean and orderly, perks of the VIP section. Immediately, you walk in front of the oval mirror, checking over your outfit and fixing your hair. You reapply a quick layer of red lipstick, tucking it back into your purse just as you hear the lock click. 

Before you can turn around, a solid warmth presses against your back. Ghost. The sink digs into your hip bones as he sandwiches you in, one hand pushing your hair over your shoulder. His skin on yours is more intoxicating than any drinks you've had tonight. He's never touched you, not like this. You giggle, tipsy as ever as he rolls his balaclava over his nose. 

"Ghost–" You whine, fingers clenching around the sink as he gently nips at the skin of your neck. He inhales your perfume, exhaling in a deep growl that rumbles through you. 

"Simon." He corrects, hands wrapping around your hips. For just a moment, you sober up. He wants you to use his real name? 

Your coherent thoughts fall away as he turns you around, hands nearly bruising your waist. He kisses you. It's sloppy and drunk, but it's everything. All the months of wondering, and hoping– he's kissing you. If you'd known it would only take a few rounds of drinks for the courage, you would have gotten drunk with him earlier. Painted fingernails dig into his shoulders as you lean up for more. His tongue delves into your mouth, and you whine. He tastes like his favorite bourbon, smells like expensive cologne– his signature scent that you could recognize anywhere. Eventually, you pull away for the oxygen that he's so easily stolen from you. 

"Everyone said…" You take a deep breath, glassy eyes flicking from his scarred lips and chin up to his eyes. He waits for a response, but sees hesitation.

"Hmmm, what did they say, love?" 

"They said you wanted me." 

"How couldn't I?" Ghost growls. 

You yelp as he grabs underneath your thighs and lifts you up onto the sink. His hands are massive, maneuvering you as if he was trained to do so. Your legs wrap around his waist, grinding against the pressure in his jeans.

"Fuckin hell, I've wanted you since you first joined the Task Force." Ghost growls in between kisses and bites to your pulsepoint.

You think back to all that time ago. It seems like ages since you met the cool headed, brooding, terrifying Simon "Ghost" Riley. You remember thinking how easily he could break you. Now?– Oh, how you want him to. 

Hearing him say it out loud sends a wave of need straight to your core. Your hands shoot for his black leather belt, but he shakes his head, stopping you before you can unclasp it.

"Not here, love." He shakes his head, gripping your chin to press one slow, sweet kiss to your plump lips. Your eyes slip shut, and you pout as he pulls away from you and slides his balaclava back down over his chin. Disappointment pools over you as you search for an explanation.

"Flat's not far." Is all he says before he grabs your wrist and pulls you off the sink. He unlocks the bathroom door and begins pulling you back towards the crowd. "Here. Order us an Uber, yeah?" Simon asks you, slipping his phone into your free hand. 

It's too much for your drunken mind to take in as he leads you through the crowd of people. Colored lights strobe, making it hard for you to make out faces, but eventually you spot your group across the club. Soap is still holding your drink, but now he's looking around. Price and Laswell are with him, eyebrows drawn together in worry.

Remembering your task, you look down to Ghost’s phone. It's already opened up to the app, but messages are coming in and you can't swipe them away quick enough. The light bothers your eyes, and you attempt to read the messages as they flutter across the blurry screen.

Cpt. Price:

-Is y/n with you at the table? We seem to have lost her. Very worried.

You swipe the message away, and quickly order an Uber to Ghost’s saved home address. It's difficult, and you have to squint to make out all the swirling numbers and bright lights. But eventually, even in your state, you manage to get a confirmation code and receipt. An unsaved number pops up, more than one notification at a time lighting up the screen:

-LT, where'd you end up?

-Y/n asked me to hold her drink, disappeared on me. 

-OH SHIT

-LT!

-YOU HOUND!

-HAHA! Getting a pump, eh, LT? No worries, lad. I'll tell the Cap what's going on.

Several erotic emojis pop up on the screen and you blush fiercely.  Then you giggle. Soap, of course. You shake your head to rid yourself of the idea. The last thing you want is for Soap to blab about this. 

Simon pulls you through the exit and into the cold night. The breeze causes a shiver to run up your spine, and your dress helps none. As he leads you towards the road, you check the address once more and slip Simon’s phone back into his blazer pocket. 

"I d-didn't know you lived in Manchester." You whisper as he leads you out into the cold night. 

"Manny, born and raised.” You can hear Ghost huff through his mask, as if something humors him, “But no one knows where I live." He mutters, leading you down towards the busy street. 

No one except for you.

Cars pass by, and scantily clad men and women rush down the sidewalks searching for the same pleasure that you’re seeking. You bite your lip, feeling a bit nervous now that this is actually happening. Simon squeezes your hand. 

A steady trickle of rain begins to sprinkle down from the dark night sky, and goosebumps trail down your bare arms and legs. As soon as you tense, Simon is pulling his blazer off. 

“Simon, that's not necessary, really–” You begin to protest, but he is already wrapping the expensive jacket around your shoulders. 

“Hush.” He warns, and you obey. It's instinct. He’s your lieutenant after all.

You can see the tug of a smirk under his mask, blonde eyelashes fluttering as his brown orbs flick down over your body. You frown lightly, feeling bad that he’s given up his jacket for your sake. 

“Don’t worry, love. I'll be taking it all off soon, yeah?”

The alcohol buzzing through your system, making everything fuzzy, only intensifies the burning desire in between your legs. You don’t know how much longer you can wait. If you had it your way, he would have already taken you, bent you over the sink and had his way. The thought alone causes butterflies to fall in your stomach. Cold fingers wrap around Simon’s phone, still resting in the coat you’re now wearing. His recent notifications are all from Soap, and you scroll through them until a new one pops up on the screen.

“Car’s here.” You whisper, half lidded eyes searching until you find the sleek, black Volvo as it pulls against the curb. He takes your hand again, pulling you towards the car. 

“Simon, how long is this ride gonna be? I don’t know how much longer I can take this.” You admit, wanting nothing more than to tear your damn dress to shreds and throw yourself at the man beside you. He only huffs, showing a self restraint that you could only dream of. 

“Patience.” Is all he says as he opens the car door for you. You step inside the nice car, scooting towards the other side to make room for Simon to sit in the back with you. You see the momentary panic in the driver’s eyes as a 6’4 masked man climbs into his backseat, but Simon only places his hand on your thigh and politely confirms the details with the man. 

Simon grips your thigh, the large pads of his fingers leaving imprints on your soft flesh. You shake your ankle, distracting yourself from the desire growing in your abdomen.

“Drive fast, yeah?” Simon mumbles, sliding twenty quid to the driver.

—

The door lock clicks. Simon checks it twice. 

His hands are on you in an instant, picking you up by your thighs and pushing you up against the wall. He didn’t turn the lights on, and your eyes struggle to adjust to the dark as Simon’s lips run over your jaw in sloppy kisses. You moan, hands wrapping around his neck and resting on the back of his balaclava. 

“Simon, please–” You whine, throwing your head back as he nips your earlobe. 

“Just a second, darling.” Ghost growls, holding you against him. He carries you through the dark flat, maneuvering drunkenly down an even darker hall. He approaches a door, and kicks it open like a human battering ram. You’re slowing him down, your lips pressing against him everywhere that they can reach, leaving love bites that he’ll still have in the morning. You kick your heels off before he even sets you down, your hands tearing off the blazer from your limbs. It hits the ground, Simon’s phone buzzing silently in the pocket. He’ll find several missed calls from the boys in the morning. You don’t even want to think about the notifications your phone is receiving. Luckily, you dropped your purse as soon as you entered the front door, so it can be a problem for tomorrow. 

Simon gently tosses you down on his king sized bed, and you fall onto the plush black blankets. They’re warm and soft and they smell like him. It’s all too intoxicating. You lean forward and unclasp Simon’s belt buckle as quickly as your intoxicated hands can manage as he pulls his shirt over his head, not bothering to unbutton it. You’re taken aback as you notice a sizable scar on his ribs. It's a messy, deep, pink scar that indents into his otherwise pale skin. Your eyebrows wrinkle, fingertips brushing near the flesh before he snatches your hand away, squeezing it too tight to the point that it hurts.

“Don’t.” Is all he says. It’s a warning, and you blush a deep crimson out of embarrassment. 

“Sorry.” You mutter, quietly. Simon brings your hand up to his lips, pressing a slow kiss to your knuckles. 

Ghost leans forward, hand gripping the side of your neck as he kisses you again. His balaclava tickles your nose as you deepen the kiss, leaning more into him. Any embarrassment or awkwardness from your last interaction falls away as he pushes his jeans down over his legs, lips still interlocked with yours. Simon steps out of his jeans and boxers, and your jaw falls slack. 

“Simon–” You stutter, eyes fixated on the length between his legs. Your eyes flick back up to his face, seeing the proud smirk he wears, even through the mask.. He simply won’t fit. It’s just not possible– He’s too big.

“I can’t-” You shake your head.

“I’ll be gentle, love.” He reassures, climbing overtop of you on the bed. Nervously, you nod. You trust him. Big hands grab you by the waist and flip you onto your stomach. You whine, clutching the sheets below you. He shushes you, and you gasp as golden beads and zipper teeth fly across the room, bouncing off of the floor and the glass window overlooking the city. A loud tear rings out as Ghost shreds your dress from the seams.

“Fuck, Simon! That was expensive!” You yelp as he pulls the ruined fabric from your body, discarding it on the floor. Laswell’s gonna kill you.

“I’ll  buy you a new one.” He growls, warm hand running down your bare back. His finger loops under the black lace thong you’re wearing. Simon smirks, “All for me?” He asks, releasing the lace so it smacks back down onto your skin. 

“Yes– all for you, only you, Simon.” You mumble, pushing your ass back up in hopes that he’ll touch you.

“That’s my girl.” 

You moan at his words, hands moving to your hips to shove the lace down off your legs, but he brushes your hands away, stopping you.

“Leave it on.” Simon rumbles at your back. You nod your head against the pillow, bringing your hands to rest under your head. Ghost pulls your thong string to the side, letting it rest just out of the way.

“Fuckin ‘ell, love.” Simon takes a breath, trying to keep the control that you’re so close to snapping as his fingers trail over your dripping folds. 

“Fuck, Simon. Stop teasing.” You beg, hips pushing back against his hand. He chuckles, dipping two fingers into your throbbing cunt. 

“O-Oh!” You whine, gripping the sheets as he hooks his thick fingers, hitting every sweet spot inside of you. Simon kisses your back, nudging your legs with his less busy hand so that they’re folded under your stomach and spread apart. He positions you low enough that your stomach touches the bed. He curls his fingers, scissoring them occasionally as you throb and whine for him. He groans at the noises you make, working you open until you’re ready. 

“Perfect.” He grumbles, sliding his fingers out of you. You whine in confusion until you feel the tip of his length teasing at your entrance. 

“Ready, love?” Ghost asks. You moan, biting your lip and nodding your head. 

“I need to hear you say it.”

“Yes. Im ready, just– please Simon, fuck!” You stutter. 

Simon slowly pushes in, and you gasp for air as he parts you like the fucking red sea. It hurts a little, and your nose wrinkles as you exhale. Simon notices the hitch in your breath, carefully examining your reaction to make sure you’re comfortable. It only takes a few moments for you to acclimate, and then he feels incredible. His size stretches you, reaching depths you didn't think possible. He hits every sweet spot as he spears into you. 

Simon’s chest presses against your back as he pushes into you. His scarred lips lock onto your neck, biting you as he fucks you from behind. He grips the headboard to steady himself, nearly leaving indents in the wood as he thrusts.

It's rough, drunk and sloppy as he drills into you. He starts out at a slow and steady pace, grinding into you rhythmically so as to not hurt you. Your exhales become sharp huffs, swirling together with the puffs of air he exhales next to your ear. If only you could turn around and kiss him again. You crave his lips against yours, satisfying the craving you’ve been ignoring for so long. But you know Simon might not be ready for that level of intimacy yet. You’ve heard stories, connected the dots. 

All too soon, you find yourself teetering on the edge from his movements. You gasp and moan under him, whimpering out his name so loudly that you’re sure the entire building can hear. The headboard rocks against the wall with every thrust, loudly slamming and leaving dents in the drywall. Neither of you care, too wrapped up in each other to even realize. 

Your neck is bruised from Simon’s lips, adding to the pleasure that’s pushing you over the edge. You fight it, but lose as pulsing heat tears through your core. Stars explode in your vision, eyes shut tight enough that they wrinkle. 

“F-uck, Simon!” You scream, nails digging into the sheets as your whole body trembles with the weight of your orgasm. Your walls squeeze Simon’s length in time with his thrusts, turning him into a groaning mess. 

“Bloody fuckin ‘ell." Simon groans, accent thicker than usual. His warm breath tickles your ear, and you gasp as he bottoms out, hitting your cervix. 

“You- You on the pill?” Simon manages to stutter out between deep grunts. He can’t risk pregnancy, can’t be a father. But you feel so fucking good and he can’t bring himself to unbury himself from your perfect, dripping cunt. 

“Got the patch– you’re good. Just fucking fill me up, please.” You beg, rocking your hips against him. He nearly curses at your words. You have a foul mouth in bed, something he wouldn’t have guessed. You whimper his name, and that’s all it takes. 

Simon grunts deep and guttural, and with one an iron grip on your hips, he fills you up with his spend. You moan, taking it all until you can’t, and it comes dripping out around him before he’s even finished. 

“That’s it, fffuck– y/n.” He grunts as the last of his seed spills out.

You press your forehead against the sheets, wincing as he pulls out of you and collapses beside you on the bed. A sheen of sweat lines both your bodies, but as much as you’d like a shower, you’re exhausted. A digital clock rests on the table beside Simon’s bed, and you sit up, squinting to look at it. 0300. Damn. 

You look back towards Simon. He’s half sitting up against the headboard, half laying down. You notice the thousand yard stare that he’s putting off, and you gently cup his chin, pulling his gaze towards you. 

“You okay?” You ask, rolling up his balaclava with your dainty fingers. You uncover the subtle smile on his lips. You smile in retur, half lidded eyes focusing on the shape of his lips. Your thumb traces over them gently.

“Better now.” He whispers. You press a kiss to his lips, slow and sweet before pulling away. 

“Get some sleep, love.” He says, softer than you’ve ever heard his voice. Much to his surprise, you tuck yourself into the crook of his side, wrapping your arms around his torso. Sleep overcomes you almost immediately. He’s too warm, too perfect. It’d be impossible for you to stay awake next to the comforting, human heater that he is. 

Simon hesitates. It’s been a long time since anyone has been this close to him. The bourbon gave him confidence enough to bring you home, but this is a very new territory, and not even the alcohol can guide him through this one. Sex is one thing, but intimacy? Emotional vulnerability? Simon burned those handbooks long ago.

“Love?” He asks, awkwardly looking to see if you’re awake. You don’t respond, asleep he confirms. Simon’s not sure what to do. He doesn’t want to move you. Are you comfortable? Is he too close? Too warm? 

He sighs, looking down at your arms tightly wound around him. No one’s shown him this type of affection, not ever. He’s not sure how to reciprocate it, but he wants to. One day at a time. Simon pulls the blanket up over your waist, checking twice to make sure that it's covering you. Carefully, he places a hand over your back, feeling your soft skin against his. 

He doesn’t sleep at all, opting to stay awake and watch the small rise and fall of your back on his lap. He doesn’t deserve you, he's sure. But you’re here, and that’s something.

[slasherscream]

could we pretty please have just some general nsfw headcanons of kevin khatchadourian 🥺 i love my toxic lil boyfie xx

small nsfw headcanons under the cut. tw: consensual choking and light degradation

Kevin doesn’t really have sex because he craves sex. What Kevin craves is control over you, and sex is such an easy way to get what he wants. He wants you compliant. He wants you obedient. He wants you dependent. 

You argue with him so much less when he shuts you up with his tongue in your mouth. You’re less fussy when he turns off your brain. You don’t have to think when you’re with Kevin, you just have to feel when you’re with him. Doesn’t he make you feel good? 

What he most enjoys is fingering you or jerking you off. He likes to be above you when he does it, just watching. His face is a mask of impassivity. No matter how long he moves his hands, how many times you cum and stain his fingers, his face hardly moves.

His eyes are where you can see it. The desire. Desire is such a minuscule emotion for Kevin. He’s experienced it so rarely it hardly registers. And listening to the way other people describe sex. Craving it. Begging for it. Mindless slaves to their passions… Kevin is sure the emotion doesn’t affect him at all. 

But his eyes burn when he watches you. Shark like, never faltering, he hardly blinks. He wants to eat you alive. He wants to see your every reaction. He likes to watch the way your hips chase his touch. The shape of your mouth as you beg him to slow down, give you a break, give you less, give you more. 

He doesn’t do much talking, but when he does it’s usually scathing. Even his praise has a bite: You always gonna be this pathetic for me? / Look at the mess you’re making on my hand. Don’t you have any self control? / If you cum before I tell you to you’ll regret it. 

He likes to wrap his hand around your throat and watch you go breathless. He waits until your eyes roll back in your head and you start going limp before he lets you breathe. There’s something so fascinating about the way you put your life in his hands.

A/N: trying to get more comfortable with nsfw. if you enjoyed these headcanons consider reblogging, leaving a reply, or an anon! a writer's fuel is engagement. Xoxoxo

[lokideservesahug]

Little Miss Ferrari

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Pairing: Carlos Sainz x Ferrari!Reader

Warnings: Overuse of the nickname Little Miss Ferrari, thirty twitter users, badly translated Italian from google (sorry)

Notes: This won the vote unsurprisingly. However, I am shocked (and very pleased) to see that Mick was the runner up and only lost by a tiny bit. But here you go.

Summary: It's that infamous time of year when Y/N (A.K.A Little Miss Ferrari) visits Imola but what will this year bring?

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Yourusername

Yourusername: Non c'è posto migliore in cui trovarsi che tornare in pista.🇮🇹❤

(No better place to be than back on trackside)

Liked by Scuderiaferrari, Charlesleclerc and 787,543 others

View all 312 comments

User1: Mother is back again

User2: Forza Ferrari Sempre

↳Yourusername: Per sempre❤ (Forever)

User3: Y/N what are your thoughts about Lewis joining Ferrari next year?

↳User4: WHY HADN'T I THOUGHT ABOUT Y/N AND THIS SITUATION

User5: Red really is your colour❤🏎

↳Yourusername: Thank you xx

User6: Anyone notice that all of the Ferrari gang are in the likes except Carlos?

↳User7: Girl stop trying to make something out of nothing🙄 He probably hasn't been on insta today and he isn't legally obligated to like her posts

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Scuderiaferrari

Scuderiaferrari: Our favourite 3 people all in our favourite place this weekend 🇮🇹🤩

Liked by Yourusername, Charlesleclerc, Carlossainz55 and 3,654,087 others

User1: I was going to comment that Charles and Carlos both had their last names on their back and Y/N only had a giant Ferrari ther instead...And thennI remembered.

↳User2: No but like fr. I forget the power she truly has sometimes.

User3: So yall are just ignoring the rumours now?!?!?

↳User4: Rumours!?!??! I thought that was cold, hard evidence.

↳User5: Not proven so maybe just would lukewarm evidence?

User6: Carlos and Y/N in one post just after those photos!?!?!?👀 Admin I see you...

Yourusername: ❤

↳User7: She only commented this because I was actualy in the backround of one of the photos guys

↳User8: Carlos, I found your burner account

↳User9: LMAO

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Carlossainz55

Carlossainz55: Mi vida❤🔥

Liked by Yourusername, Landonorris, Scuderiaferrari and 1,089,654 others

View all 52 comments

Yourusername: Ti amo tanto ❤

(I love you so much)

↳Carlossainz55: Ti amo di più ❤❤

(I love you more)

↳Yourusername: Non possibile

(Not possible)

↳Carlossainz55: Ti amo in ogni lingua. En cada universo. Forever.

(I love you in every language. In every Universe.)

-This creator has limited comments-

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Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed.

As always, likes, reblogs and especially feedback is always welcome.

Taglist:@nikfigueiredo @mysoulispainted @leclercings @d3kstar @hiireadstuff @a-beaverhausen @nichmeddar @lozzamez3 @stinkyjax @marymustdie @littlesatanicassholebitch @mehrmonga @insanedeathwish @ems-alexandra @a-disturbing-self-reflection @cherry-piee

[malarign]

chilly mornings

(when you wake up in a tight grasp of your lover)

contains: bf!Sunghoon x fem!reader | generalny: fluff | tw! kissing, honestly none bc sunghoon is such a baby in this one | wc: 0,4

reblogs, likes and comments are highly appreciated!!!

author’s note: something short for all of you 🫶 also thank you for 2k notes! this is really going so fast xx

Faint sunlight ripped through the curtains of your bedroom. Air conditioning was softly cooling down the room, making you sink into your sheets. You wanted to finally get out of your bed to start the day, but something stopped you. That’s when you felt a pair of strong arms wrapped around your waist. Your sudden movemen made your boyfriend tighten the grip furrowning his brows, not content with you stirring around.

“Don’t go,” Sunghoon mumbled, voice still raspy and deep, nuzzling his face into your neck.

You slowly turned around and placed soft kiss on his nose making him scrunch it and smile, eyes still closed shut.

“More,” he whispered greedily.

You proceeded to plant sweet pecks all around his face, and just when you were about to kiss his lips, you felt his grip loosening. Taking the opportunity you snapped out of his embrace and got out of bed leaving Sunghoon whining.

“Why would you do that?” he asked dramatically.

“I’ll be back,” you said leaving the room and closing the door behind you.

Believing you, Sunghoon just covered himself more with bedsheets and waited. The comfort of soft mattress and cozy duvet made him close his still sleepy eyes as soon as his head hit the pillow.

When you came back you almost cooed out loud at the view of your boyfriend sleeping adorably with his lips ever so slightly parted. You climbed on the bed. Feeling your weight on the other side of the bed he took alol th energy and will to open his eyes only to be embraced by your delicate arms. He immediately found comfort and brought himelf closer to your form. You lifted his face by holding his chin, making his stomach fill up with butterflies. You looked into his eyes, now fully opened, hint of innocence in them. You then leaned in and kissed his lips slowly. As soon as your skin came into contact with his he melted in your touch, whole body fully relaxed, something he needed after week of hard work.

You pulled away and looked at him being his usual enderaing self. “Do you want to sleep some more?” you whispered straight into his ear, noticing how its end went bright red. He nodded and nuzzled his head into your chest. Smiling to yourself you kissed his forehead near his hairline and followed Sunghoon into your sweet dreamland.

thank you for reading! back to the masterlist

[lilolilyr]

Image sources: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

My Trek tag list (lmk if you want on/off it): @startrekgeorgiouery @toboldlynerd @badasspantiestalker @accio-baqat @spockblanket @geek-goth-gay @mlmcaptainpike @my-gaydar-is-on-point @yaminoendo @grapeyoda @wapwani @badwolfkaily @bookerandy @racethewind10 @toomuchactionforme @onaperduamedee @verbumproxen @justanalto @innocent-gayngel @sad-tunes @forestcircle

Please reblog (pod)fic links to support your fellow fans!

Where No Flan Has Gone Before

A Star Trek multi series fanfiction & podfic for the @pod-together event 2023 - written by @bookgirlfan, read by @lilolilyr!

1.5k words, G, no archive warnings apply

Summary: These are the reviews of the Starship Bakerprise. Its five year plan - to explore strange new pastries; to seek out new recipes and new dessert combinations. To boldly go where no flan has gone before.

[askinkiskarma]

ꜰᴀʟꜱᴇ ɢᴏᴅ | ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪ: ɪ'ʟʟ ꜱʜᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴠᴇʀꜱɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱᴇʟꜰ ᴛᴏɴɪɢʜᴛ

pairing: dilf!Jake Sully x (f)human/avatar!reader

synopsis: It took a lot of time and advancements, but, with the humans' return to Pandora 8 years ago, and thanks to the constant raids of the Omaticaya, the scientists managed to make you and Spider an Avatar. Unlike him, though, you know nothing about and want nothing to do with it, and when your struggle to adapt becomes too overbearing, Jake decided to take matters into his own hands.

this story will contain an unhealthy, co-dependent relationship, and dark themes (smut, mental health, death, violence, infidelity), so pls read at your own discretion.

warnings: 18+ minors DNI, angst, age-gap (23 vs 43), pet names.

wc: 4.5k words

a/n: hi besties, and welcome to my first jake series! i have had this series in my mind for so so long, and it feels good to bring it to life finally. i am excited to get back into writing - i needed a little time to recharge after monster in me, and take a break and actually sleep and live my life hahahaha. anyway, i hope you enjoy this story, i'm so excited to write it and see where it takes me! xx

ps: this story will move perspectives and timelines a lott, so i hope it's not too confusing but pls do let me know if it is and i'll figure something out xx

replies and reblogs are massively appreciated, i loveee to hear from you so much!

na'vi compendium: tanhi - bioluminescent freckles, tsamsiyu - warrior, tawtute - human

series masterlist (x)

I want you to know, I’m a mirrorball I’ll show you every version of yourself tonight

It was excruciating, the pain. It was never-ending, never relenting, it was enough to warrant the current position you found yourself in, curled up on your bed, knees brought close to your chest, hands grasping at your worn-down pyjamas, that much like everything else in this room, smelled like him, felt like him, was imbued with his presence and the memories he’s left that you’d never be able to forgive or forsake. Glossed-over eyes moved slowly through your room, at all the little trinkets you now had that you didn’t just a few months, all of them sharp and painful as they felt like they were digging painfully in you, leaving cuts and bruises in your already broken heart. Eventually, your gaze settled on a feather you were given the first day in your Avatar body, and it was an appropriate place to stop, as this was when it all began - this whole mess, that you were still debating whether it was worth it, worth all this, but which, at the time, was a pure and innocent new start, in a new body, in a new life.

I'll get you out on the floor Shimmering beautiful And when I break it's in a million pieces

“Come on, honey, it’s late already. You know life in the village starts early.”

The dragging of your feet did very little to make you appear more enthusiastic than you were feeling currently, and Norm sighed as he took it your deflated predisposition. It should be a happy time. You knew that. How many people can say that got a new chance, at a new life, on this planet that felt weirdly in between a home and a prison? A new chance to belong - the first one, actually. A chance to thrive and to experience this world the way it was meant to be experienced, the way that the natives experienced it. And yet, a few weeks in, you still felt like a complete stranger in a body you couldn’t recognise, in a culture that has never been your own, in a village that has never accepted you, that never ceased to look at you and see through you, right to the flimsy core of insecurities and self-doubts that plagued you constantly, that followed you everywhere you went, like a shadow in a dimly-lit room.

You looked across the room where the other neuro-link pod was being prepped, and next to it stood the only other young, human, adult on Pandora - your brother for all intents and purposes, the boy who you loved always, but hated in the moment, as you watched his lively and animated body language, practically beaming with anticipation. Spider, unlike you, settled in his new taller, bluer, shinier body almost immediately - a born acrobat, a made warrior, even before the Avatars were complete. He had no such compulsions, no shame or guilt, no embarrassment or anxiety, no feelings of inadequacy or imposter syndrome, just a pure, unadulterated joie de vivre and unquenchable fear of missing out. He got everything he’s ever wanted with that Avatar, and unlike you, he didn’t seem willing to squander the opportunity. You knew you should be more like him, and you were trying. The effort just wasn’t enough to overthrow the paralysing fear you felt every time you stepped foot in that village. You wondered if it ever will.

“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” With a sigh and a roll of your eyes, doing your very best to ignore the racket coming from just a few pods over, you allowed Norm to close the lid on top of your caged body, doing your very best to clear your head of the screaming voice that got louder by the second, the harder you tried. You’ll never make it. You will never be one of the people.

Hush When no one is around, my dear You'll find me on my tallest tiptoes Spinning in my highest heels, love Shining just for you

Life in the village did indeed start early, and while you walked away from Hell’s Gate and through the thick forest that surrounded you, you could already hear faint sounds coming from the general direction of the Omaticaya settlement, a dead giveaway people were preparing for what the day would inevitably bring, from training in the healing practices of the Tsa’hik or the warrior skills of the tsamsiyu, it was the relentless will to improve and contribute to the overall wellness of each other and their planet that fuelled Na’vi every day.

Soon enough, the carefully crafted tents came into view, each one unique to the owner, with pieces of bone or hides that gave it a personal, intimate appeal, and it was easy enough, once you knew the people, to be able to tell who each tent belonged to. You smiled as your eyes fixed on one tent in particular, small and understated, despite who it was inhabiting it - Neteyam, future Olo’eyktan, never found any use for unnecessary embellishments, be it on his person or any of his belongings, always preferring to keep the showing off to the actual battle or training, his impressive skill set and his ability to thrive in every challenge his brightest adornment. When he came out of it, like he could sense you were near, your smile widened taking him in, in all his tall, blue, muscular beauty. He was a handsome young man, the perfect mix between Neytiri and… him. He used to look more like his mother when he was younger, but now, all of 23 years old, he was more and more Jake with each passing day, and the thought both intrigued and scared you, almost in equal parts.

It intrigued you because, well… because there was something special about Jake, there always has been. Not just because he was the first and only human to do the consciousness transfer, to be accepted into the clan, to become one of the people, or that he was Toruk Makto, one of only 6 to have ever existed; not because he was Olo’eyktan, and a revered warrior and leader… but because he was him. He was kind and patient, he was sweet and caring, he was funny and fun… he was everything.

On the other hand, it was for the exact same reasons that Neteyam’s resemblance to his dad scared you. Because every time you looked at him, you saw Jake, and the feelings you harboured for him since you were old enough to pay attention, that dwindled in time, were mingled with the deep familial affection you felt for Neteyam, who has been your best friend since you were old enough to... well, have memories. You didn’t want your relationship with him to be marred by feelings you couldn’t, wouldn’t ever feel for him, you didn’t want your history erased by the possibility of more, not when it would be wrong - not when, at your core, you would just settle for him because you couldn’t get the person you really wanted.

“Oi! A little late for the mighty warrior to be coming out of his tent, isn’t it?”

Neteyam snickered as he noticed you and Spider approaching, and shook his hand in Spider’s direction.

“Why is she this mean only to me?”

Spider shrugged and patted Neteyam on the shoulder simpathetically.

“Girls, man… Am I right? Anyway, going to find Lo’ak and Kiri. See you guys on the training grounds.”

Hush I know they said the end is near But I'm still on my tallest tiptoes Spinning in my highest heels, love Shining just for you

As Spider took his leave, almost skipping to the Tsa’hik’s tent, where he knew Kiri would be, you started walking quietly, anxiety rising in your chest with each step taken towards the grounds, where you’d once again, as you have for the past few weeks, prove to yourself and everyone around you that you weren’t made for this - the fighting, the battles, the wielding of death machines, be it a gun or a bow, none of it was yours to take, yours to concur. You were made for the labs, for the quiet, analytical lifestyle. You were made for wielding a guitar, and playing it until the strings broke, you were made for daydreams and illusions and fantasies you could only fathom yourself part of, for a happier, easier world that would allow you to be all of those things without incursions. Alas, the world was not what you envisioned for yourself when you were younger, and with this great opportunity, came sacrifices you hoped time would lessen and sweeten, and turn them into blessings in disguise.

“Are you ready for today?”

“Does that make a difference?”

Neteyam’s sigh was answer enough for you. He tried to help, he really did. He went above and beyond for you and you were grateful. He was a patient teacher and a great friend, and his determination, as always, came at a cost, the cost of another burden he had to carry, another person he had to parent and take care of, and while it was not lost on you, it didn’t matter. None of it mattered.

“You’re going to be okay. You just have to give yourself time to grow. You can’t compare yourself with Spider, who’s been in the village with us his whole life. It’s going to take you time and effort, but you can do this, Tawte. And I’ll be here, at every step, ready to catch you if you fall.”

You smiled a little, slightly distracted, as you always were, by his sweet nickname, and your thoughts flowed gently at the memories that stirred in you whenever he said it, at the way the first word he ever uttered as a babe was a slurred version of a word he heard all the time from his mother: tawtute... human. From her mouth, it was laced with poison and disdain, but not from Neteyam's, who loved you, ever since you were young, who accepted you for who you were. Tawte was a gentle reminder of how far you've come, and how the familial love between the two of you hasn't faltered through time, but only blossomed and deepened, much to your eternal gratitude.

And they called off the circus, burned the disco down When they sent home the horses and the rodeo clowns I'm still on that tightrope I'm still trying everything to get you laughing at me

Your eyes, hidden behind a sea of glossy tears settled on the next item, the broken tip of an arrow, that you kept since that day, when you somehow did so poorly in bow practice, you managed to break an incredibly sturdy arrow, much to Spider and Lo'ak's amusement, and much to your deep dismay. You thought how about your feelings of inadequacy were exacerbated by the Olo'eyktan's watchful eyes, who observed you intently the whole time, and how that inadvertently set everyone's gaze on you. So many eyes - watching, judging...fearful; so many words - whispered and snickered, and it hurt. It all hurt. But then... he changed everything, not just in that moment, so far removed from you now, but for the rest of your life, with just a few simple words.

“What?” the shock couldn't be shaken off your face, no matter how hard you tried. You knew you needed to get a grip of your emotions, but that was always easier said than done for a girl who was aptly described her whole life as "wearing her heart on her sleeve".

“Ouch, kid. You’re hurting my feelings. I would have liked to think anyone would be honoured to be personally trained by the Olo’eyktan, but I think I’ve been humbled.”

“No, Jake… of-of course I am, I just think… your efforts are better spent on someone else, someone… who’s worthy of it.”

It was minuscule, the change, but it was there - his eyes, his smile had an edge to them, that wasn't there before. He wasn't happy with your words, and yet, he remained calm and maintained the easy, outgoing, friendly nature of his tone.

“How about you let me decide what my efforts are better spent on, kid?”

That was enough to shut you up, but when he noticed the purple tinge in your cheeks, and the way your gaze dropped in shame, his expression softened. He brought a hand to your face, his thumb grazing your chin so that you'd look up at him, and you hoped the shudder that tried you went unnoticed to him, and to the rest of the clan.

“Here’s the deal. I think part of the reason you are having such a hard time is because you’re here, in this village you’ve never truly been a part of, with so many watchful eyes on you. You feel the pressure of performing well in front of the people, in front of my kids… in front of Spider. You shouldn’t have to do that. So, my solution is simple: you and I go for a few days’ hunt. I will teach you the basics, like I learnt when I first joined the Omaticaya. This way you get to relax a little, get to remove yourself from this place for a while and enjoy the beauty of Pandora, and who knows, kid? Maybe you'll find it's easier to be a part of us than you ever could have imagined. What do you say, mm?"

I'm still a believer but I don't know why I've never been a natural All I do is try, try, try

How could you have said no to such an offer? Even now, with all this hindsight, standing on the edge of a cliff with so much room beneath you to fall, with one foot on the ledge and the other on a banana fruit peel, able to look at the situation from a vantage point you only got with all the months of history you've amassed, even now... you still would say yes. Because no matter the pain and the hurt that now seeped into you like rain through the cracks in the withered, dry ground, soaking into every facet of it... just like the rain, his presence and memory also gave you life, a purpose, a way to go on. And you wouldn't give that up, not while there was still breath in your lungs.

So you said yes. And you left, that same day, on the back on his beautiful ikran, for a long ride that would take you somewhere deep in lands you've never experienced before, away from whispers and prying eyes, away from the doubt and the fear. As you were flying far above the world you've known and loved your whole life, that scared you your whole life, you couldn't help but think of what Jake was doing, and feel grateful for it. You thought about how it only consolidated the way you've always viewed him, as a great warrior, a great father, a great mentor... a great man. You thought about your crush, and how it embarrassed you as a teenager, and how you couldn't look him in the eye whenever he came to the lab and asked you a question, how you couldn't be around him without thinking you're gonna catch fire. That was long ago.

It passed, you thought. The crush, slightly weird and completely unattainable, passed through time. Yet here you stood, bare back, yet another foreign feeling you were trying to get used to, flush against his muscular chest, his palm protectively wrapped around your abdomen, and somehow, you forgot to take in the beauty of this world you’ve never seen from such a high vantage point, forgot to enjoy the fact you were literally flying, the air flowing through your luscious, thick hair… you forgot to breathe.

“You okay there, kid? Tell me if this is overwhelming, we can take a break.”

“N-no. I’m alright…Thank you.”

“Good girl.”

I'm still on that trapeze I'm still trying everything To keep you looking at me

Jake struggled to rationalise how things could have ever ended up this way. How did this happen? A few short months ago, it seemed, his life was... normal, or as normal as life could be in the middle of an ongoing territorial war with a species that was once his own, that he now disowned, that he now despised most days. Still. Normal. The same way it had been since he arrived on Pandora, since he mated with Neytiri, since he had one kid, and then another, and another...

He's known you since you were born. He took pity on you, much like he did Spider, for the cruelness of the Universe, for whatever it took for you to be born on this planet he loved, but knew was inhospitable to those who weren't made for it. Aliens. That was about the extent of your similarities to Spider, though. Unlike him, you were sweet, docile, quiet. You never came out to the village, and the few times you did, you just stood in a corner, on some tree stump, clinging to Neteyam like a little lost puppy.

How did it end up this way? It was wrong, it was all wrong. He knew it in his heart he had to stop, and he's been trying... so hard, it was all so hard. In these months, despite his mind telling him otherwise, urging him to consider all he stood to lose, he still ended up putting his life, everything he's built up on the line for you, doing things that frightened him, ashamed him, embarrassed him, but that he couldn't stop doing because it was you. And you were everything, and the way you made him feel was everything. And it all started that night.

The training was not necessarily any less painful than it had been, but he was right - it was easier. He was a good teacher, you told him. You say you understood now where Neteyam got it from, his penchant for imparting wisdom in a calm, collected and patient manner. He went through all the basics, and after a good few hours, he felt like you were almost... relaxed. By eclipse, you were hunched over food that he was preparing over fire, while practicing your Na'vi - the only thing you felt comfortable enough to call yourself good in, and for the first time since you got your Avatar, you looked... happy. You needed this and he knew it. You didn't even know it for yourself, but he knew. And thinking about it, and him, made you blurt out a secret you held in your soul for years and years, before your mind had enough time to talk you out of it.

“I used to have a crush on you, you know?” You chuckled a little, and Jake was fascinated by the sound, which sounded less like a laugh and more like bells chiming in the wind, and by the purple tinge of your cheeks as you confessed something that he couldn’t believe his ears, that were now pushed back flat in shock.

“You used to have a crush on me?”

His tone amused you even further, it seemed, because you brought a hand to your mouth to stifle the sound Jake felt a sudden desire to continue hearing for the rest of his life.

“Why do you sound so surprised?”

“I don’t know, kid, just… never thought out of everyone in this village, and the labs, people your own age, including my kids and Spider, you’d ever have a crush on an old man like me.” He chuckles his own rugged, awkward laugh and looks over at you, the way he couldn’t stop himself doing, it seemed, to gauge for a reaction that he didn’t know whether he wanted to see.

“I think that was part of the charm, actually.” As you catch yourself talking, you stop and turn, the tinge in your cheeks no longer a tinge but a splash of violent colour as you pat yourself aggressively with both hands, to release some of the heat that pooled unwelcome in your face. “I… I really should not… say things.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly amused and intrigued at the new development. “So you like ‘em older, huh, kid? Always the shy and quiet ones, ain’t that so?”

You retreat further in yourself at the way he just called you out, unconsciously making yourself smaller by bringing your knees in and wrapping your arms around them, your face buried in between your legs in embarrassment and you let out a small groan. You couldn’t believe this was happening to you. First time in your life you were fully alone with this great man, this man that is a legend, that will have history books written about him even back on Earth, this man that knew so much and achieved enough to last lifetimes and instead of learning from him, instead of doing what you came here to do to begin with, here you are, running your mouth faster than your brain could catch up, making sure you would never be able to look him in the eyes ever again.

“Are you still playing that guitar of yours? You used to drive Neytiri crazy with that thing when you were young.”

“Yeah, I still play, just, I keep it to the rec centre mostly.”

“Why?”

“I just... don’t want to bother anyone.”

You sounded sad, too sad. He saw your eyes swimming with tears and he cringed at the way he was unable to make you feel fully comfortable around him. This shouldn't be this hard.

“Ah, kid… you can play in the village. The Omaticaya love music, they’re called the Flute Clan for cryin’ out loud. They just need time.”

“It’s been 23 years.”

Jake didn’t push anymore, not when you were right. It’s been a long enough time, but some things… some things don’t get better with time. Jake’s always hated that stupid old saying anyway.

“Y’know… I play a little guitar, too.” He scoffs a little as he thinks more about it. “Well, used to play. Probably not any good anymore, but at some point, I used to be.”

Your eyes shoot to him and the glimmer in them makes Jake’s mind come to a standstill - they were so beautiful. You were so beautiful.

“Really? That’s amazing!” And just like that, your previous outburst was swiftly forsaken and forgotten, the new piece of information far too exciting for you to dwell on anything else. “How come I’ve never heard you? You should play for us sometime.”

Jake smiled a sorrowful smile that stopped short of reaching his eyes. “Just… haven’t had the chance.”

There were a lot of reasons Jake hasn’t done so many of the things that used to bring him joy when he was human. But ya win some, ya lose some, that was always his philosophy for life anyway. He had so much to be grateful for in this life, so much more than he ever thought possible for a grunt like him. The Universe has been more than generous in compensating him for a lifetime of resentment and regrets, and so if he had to give certain things up, that he did so without thinking twice about it.

“So how did you learn?”

“My old man taught me, probably the only thing he ever taught me, unless you count how to run a backdoor draw while high off your ass.” Jake lets out a humourless laugh, enjoying the look of confusion plastered all over your face, and the way your tanhì seemed to shine brighter when you ruminated over something in your head. Your nose crinkles a little, as his words register fully in your ears and they twitch, and the humourless laugh quickly evolves in a warm, inward smile.

You were beautiful, he ends up acknowledging yet again, taking in all the mannerisms that somehow escaped him all these years.

“A what?”

Jake chuckles, shaking his head. “Nevermind.”

“Did you not… get along with your dad?”

Jake finds himself, for the first time in years, too many years, thinking about his dad and his life as a young kid back on Earth, and all the shitty memories that came along with that thought, memories he’s tried to repress most of his life. He catches yet another sigh before it escapes him, a habit he’s seemed to have quickly picked up in your presence, as you asked questions most people never did, questions he didn’t want to answer, questions he wanted nothing more than to be asked.

“My dad was a mean ol’ dog, who liked women and booze more than he ever liked Tommy or me. I could never find it in me to care when he died.” That was morbid, he recognises, but it needed to be said. Something about you just makes him want to just… confess things he shouldn’t be feeling, and shouldn’t be saying out loud, and yet here he was, heart thumping and palms sweating almost nervously, and the word vomit didn’t seem like it was anywhere close to over.

“He made mean sloppy joes, though. And he played the guitar like he was born with a six-string in his hands.” There were some good memories. The memory of his dad teaching young squirt Jake Future Days, his old, cigarette-imbued hoarse voice singing the lyrics that still had the power to bring tears to his eyes… that was one of the good ones.

You smiled as he spoke, a warm, inviting smile, that made the breath catch in his lungs and begged him to spill all the secrets that he tried so hard to bury deep inside, and he feels his stomach drop when he realises the feelings you invoked in him, for the first time in his life, were no longer ones he could justify or explain, but ones that demanded to be felt.

The silence was heavy and awkward after that, or so he thought, and he watched you as you ruminated over his words, as you nibbled at the fish he managed to catch while teaching you the basics of fishing. He shouldn't have said it, any of it. What the hell does he think he's doing, going around confessing the depths of his somewhat bitter soul to a kid who knew nothing about life, and who shouldn't have to carry his burdens to begin with. Maybe coming here was a mistake. Maybe being alone with you... was a mistake.

"You should go to sleep, kid. There's a long day ahead of us tomorrow, and the sooner we're done, the sooner your life can go back to normal."

You nodded gently and obliged.

“I think you’re lying.” You say, as you turn your back to him, closing your eyes and preparing yourself to return to your human body, as soon as sleep would find you. “I think you cared. I think you still care. And it’s ok to care. Sometimes… people are horrible and they suck… and we love them anyway. And I think that’s what makes humans special… and good.”

Jake was too stunned to be able to say anything else, as he stared mouth-agape at your back.

“Sleep well, Jake.”

Maybe he did lie. Maybe life will never go back to normal again and the thought... the thought terrified him.

Because I'm a mirrorball I'm a mirrorball I'll show you every version of yourself Tonight

taglist: @yagirlheree @mashiromochi @deepdarktower @tojisleftarm @childofgod-05 @youngpersonaathletebear @cinetrix @hinataashoyos @i-live-in-a-fantasy-daydream @misscaller06 @v1l-ismissing @legendarynoodlebowl @analuw @imjustcal @the-fractured-eye @pandoraontop @sweetirilly @kouyoumarryme @blxkstar @ok-boke @myheartfollower

[o2studies]

GUYSSSS!!!!

The Sci Journal has been published!!!

Find it by searching: thescijournal.weebly.com unfortunately you do have to type out the whole thing rn, goggle doesn't show it with just 'thescijournal' quite yet

About the website:

"​What quickly grew to become a small community project, The Sci Journal is a place where students of any kind come together to share their interests and grow their love for research.

Once a month we will produce article entries aimed to inspire and educate based on a variety of science-related subjects such as astronomy, medicine, programming, and many more."

Our first article has been written by @becloudedsagacity about the immortal jellyfish and it is so so interesting!! (this is not just self promo— I geniuenly find it super interesting!)

I'm so so happy and proud and excited and omgggggg! Can't belive this has happened!!

I have been so blessed with your expression of interest and those that have helped with its creation or tools for it ❤️❤️ I would really appreciate if you could check out the website, see if its something you might be interested in (for either reading or also contributing to), and if you could reblog this to reach more people 💕

Our current (& amazing) team: @jasmine_008 @chefeader @breathing-soil @uncontrolledfission @qnamvnin @elu-xx @thecollapsingneutron @pharmagene @me-be-bubbles @myseniorliving @larstudy @chaotic-but-cute @becloudedsagacity @paramnesia9 @juneability @theamazinglilskate @sparklingstarr-tv @chaiandcuriosity @mikachem @scaryaxolotl @usuallyobsessedtumblr @nenelonomh @hyacinth-dancing-in-rain @nyxscave @studyobsessedgirlie

[freak-accident419]

playing cards

Derek Danforth x GN!Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | More parts coming soon

Summary: You and Derek prepare for the party. When the night finally came, it was up to the two of you to impress his mother.

Word Count: 4.3k

Content: gender neutral reader, swearing, shopping yay, Derek’s mommy issues, dancing hrngggg, fun banter

Ao3 Link

(A/n: thank you to everyone’s support! I wouldn’t have been able to do this fic without you all! Please comment if you want to be added to the tag list!! Reblogs, likes, comments, and kudos on Ao3 are highly appreciated! Love you all xx)

-

“Okay, so…” You began, gently chewing on the pen in your hand. “What is our stance on six months?”

“Too long, don’t you think?” Derek replied, raising an eyebrow.

“Hm. Yeah, maybe.”

The next day, you and Derek rejoined at your penthouse, lounging in your bedroom with index cards in your grasp. Together, you were coming up with your ‘backstory’ to make sure that the two of you were on the right page, especially if you were ever met with specific questions regarding your newfound relationship.

“How about just three months?” You finally suggested, looking up from the index cards to glance at Derek.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” he shrugs casually, granting you to write it down.

You quickly scribbled on the notecard, littering the blank space with sloppy, black ink. “Alright, quick rundown,” you say abruptly, covering the thin stack of index cards with your hand. “Go.”

“Okay, uh… Three months ago, on the morning after a huge rager, I got a, um, really bad hangover, as one does. And you, being the best friend you were, took care of me and lectured me about my consequences or some kind of… self-righteous bullshit like that,” he recalled, trying to remember what the two had went over just now. “Uhhh… Soon after, you confessed your feelings for me, I told you they were reciprocated, and now we’re, like, fuckin’ dating or whatever.”

You raise an eyebrow with a slight grin. “Wow, that is actually completely correct. What are you, fuckin’ sober?” you chuckle softly, admittedly impressed with him. You flipped over and went through some of the other index cards until you stopped to stare at a specific one. “First date?” you challenge, looking back up at him.

You watched Derek’s expression turn into deep contemplation, noting how his eyebrows furrowed in uncertainty. “It was, uh… fuck. It was… We… Wine tasting. Yeah. The wine tasting at, uh—”

“No, we actually scrapped that one, remember?” You remarked, shaking your head. “Your mom would never believe that, like, you’re way too immature for that shit—hell, I’m way too immature for that shit.”

“Right,” he huffs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fuck… Fuck. It was, uhh,” he snapped his fingers suddenly, conveying a triumphant epiphany, “Dinner! It was fuckin’ dinner, down at the, uh… the Mistral. That one restaurant on Columbus Avenue.”

You scoff lightly with a satisfied grin on your face. “Damn, you are a thousand percent correct again! Bonus points for remembering the place too.” You stacked the notecards neatly on the table. “Alright, and so everything from there on is just unscripted, plain bullshit, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he answers, nodding his head. “Okay, yeah. And—fuck—if anyone, like, asks either of us a question and we have to make up random shit on the spot, we have to update the other about it immediately, okay?”

“Well, yeah, I mean, that’s what the index cards are for,” you remark, lifting up the small stack to his view.

“You know, I don’t—I don’t understand, why can’t we just use, like, the fuckin’ Notes app or something?” he scoffs, raising an eyebrow.

“Science says you can memorize things more easily if you write them down,” you shrug with a slight pout.

He rolled his eyes and decided to dismiss it. “Okay, right, uhhh—Hey, what are you going to wear for the party?”

“Oh right, um, here,” you say, walking towards your closet and opening it up. You grabbed the outfit by the hanger, which was covered entirely by plastic after a luxurious dry cleaning, displaying it to Derek. “I was, uh, thinking of this.”

Derek’s expression, however, dropped. “What the hell is that?” He asked bluntly, looking at it with resentment.

“What’s—What’s what?” You ask with a baffled expression.

“You’re seriously not thinking of wearing that,” he huffs, glaring at you in disbelief.

“What—What’s wrong with it, I spent, like, a thousand dollars on it!” You exclaim, taking another glimpse of the clothing in your hand.

“That’s the thing, it’s not enough,” he grumbles, wiping downwards at his face with his palm.

You scoffed in utter confusion. “What?”

“Look, if we’ve been dating for three months, I would’ve already bought you a goddamn plethora of expensive shit. You need to wear something that’s at least, like, five to ten thousand bucks.”

“Seriously? Are you fucking serious?” You scoffed in frustration. “Look, no one’s—No one’s gonna even notice the fucking difference, y—”

“My mom might!” He interjects firmly. “Look, if we want to create the illusion that you and I are dating, we really have to fucking sell it, okay? I wouldn’t date someone who wears shit like… like that,” he gestures bitterly at the attire.

“You know what, fuck you! Are we seriously—?” You groaned, pinching your eyebrows together. “Derek. You literally fuckin’ dress like you’re in a goddamn midlife crisis and you’re not even close to pushing forty! Like, are you colorblind, what—what even is that?” You point towards his outfit, which was the revoltingly mix-matched clothing combo that somehow costed significantly more than your own damn paycheck.

Derek gaped in surprise at your insults as you proceeded on with your rant. “Well, news flash, fuckwad! Your mom also knows me very well, and she knows that I wouldn’t date a fuckin’ clown like you! So how about we both make a deal to improve our own clothing choices? What are—What are you even planning to wear to the party?”

“The uh…” Derek scratched at the back of his neck briefly, raising an eyebrow. “That one sage green suit of mine,” he replied stiffly.

“Hell no.”

“What—”

“Hell no! Are you serious? No!” You exclaim with a dark chuckle.

“Wh—” His face was quite priceless.

“No.”

“Fuck…” he sighs. “Fuck, fine.” Derek eyes your disapproving expression. “Fine. I’ll call the fuckin’ chauffeur and have him take us to Copley.”

***

Later on, the two of you arrived at the Copley Place, the posh Boston shopping center that you would frequently visit for most of your apparel. You were rich, indubitably, but not nearly as rich as Derek, of course. Before, you’ve made your money through several technician occupations in the form of job hopping, and it wasn’t until Derek took over Danforth Enterprises that he hooked you up with a seemingly long-term and high-paying job there. You’d been friends with him ever since your college years, after all. He wasn’t at all hesitant to help out his best friend. He was quite the selfish, greedy man, but he had his moments. Especially with you.

“This one,” Derek says, gesturing to an outfit that he found for you.

“Ew, no,” you grimace, nearly scowling at the sight of it. “It looks fuckin’ stupid.”

“What do you mean, it looks—? It looks great,” he retorted with a baffled expression.

“Well, of course you would say that,” you interject, “your fashion sense is fucking horrendous, it’s like you don’t even have one to begin with.”

Derek groaned impatiently at your tireless insults. “Jesus fuck.”

“You just need a reality check! That’s all I’m saying, dude,” you huff, proceeding to walk around further into the store. Suddenly, your eyes caught sight of a rather pleasing outfit, slightly rushing towards it. “Okay, how about this? I think it looks fine.”

Derek raises an eyebrow, but he doesn’t look so against it. “How much is it?” He asked, eyeing it curiously.

“Uhh… Around six thousand,” you shrug after you had glanced at the label.

“Alright, good. Okay. Yeah, we’ll get it,” he nods in compliance. Finally, god damn.

“Will I get to keep it?” You ask with playful curiosity.

“Uh, if the night goes well, then sure,” he replied, “but if not, I’m returning it.”

You pouted.

Soon enough, the two of you were fishing for clothes for Derek, walking into each and every designer store at the Copley. He was excruciatingly picky and difficult to work with, but then again, it was nothing you weren’t used to.

You eye an elegant three-piece suit, the blackout appearance grabbing your attention. “I like this one,” you hum softly, “It’s all black—simple, classy, it looks nice.”

Derek examined the suit in front of him, raising an eyebrow. “Uh… It’s not really… me, though, is it?”

“Yeah, well… Isn’t that the whole point, though? Being the complete opposite of yourself, a changed person? Yeah, we don’t want you to be you tomorrow night,” you scoffed with a slight chuckle. “I think you should get it. And maybe, you’ll actually look very nice for once.”

“Y/n—”

“C’mon, dude. Isn’t the whole point of this is to impress your mom?” You point out.

“Well, yeah,” he grumbles, scratching lightly at his cheek.

“Then buy the suit, man! None of that fuckin’… crypto bro nonsense that makes her shit her pants,” you urge, chuckling softly.

Derek looks at you with a now serious and inquisitive expression. “Do you really think it’ll impress her?”

You cross your arms, looking at the suit once again. “She would cry tears of fuckin’ joy, man.”

He turned his head and looked at you, genuinely surprised at your answer. “You serious?”

You nodded with a cheeky grin. “I wouldn’t put it past her.”

“Okay, fuck it… I’ll take it.”

***

The next day came by very fast. In the afternoon, you and Derek ‘rehearsed’ a couple of things, ensuring that the two of you were all set for this ridiculous stunt. Then you both went back to your homes to get ready for the party. It was a genuinely classy and elegant event, so you figured you would actually put effort in looking nice and presentable. Plus, you were attending the party in $6,000 clothing that Derek bought for you. You wanted to do it justice.

Later that evening, the two of you would regroup at Derek’s mansion. You met up with him outside of his estate by a black limo. And you found Derek’s expression to be quite curious once he practically gazed upon you; his eyes were wide and his lips were parted slightly in awe.

“Holy shit,” he scoffed amusedly, crossing his arms, “you actually clean up well.” He was shocked, to say the very least. He’s never seen you dress up like this, considering he’s only ever seen you in your casual, day-to-day outfits.

Ultimately, his reaction surprised you, making you pleasantly stunned. “Yeah? I could say the same thing about yourself. It’s nice to see you not wear a fuckin’ eye-straining suit for once,” you chuckle brashly, getting Derek to roll his eyes.

“Yeah?” He went inside of the car through the backseat doors as you followed promptly. “Well, don’t get used to it. I just have to pull off this stunt for one night and once my mom realizes I’m not that much of a reckless asshole, everything will be back to the way it was.”

You groaned with a slight, teasing smile on your face. “God, just at least let me enjoy this while it lasts.”

“You know—I don’t—I don’t fuckin’ get why you’re always being such a fucking hater!” He nearly laughs, mocking an offended tone. “I—All my assistants respect my fashion choices, they’ve said it themselves, you just have no fuckin’ taste!”

“You know, have you ever considered that they’re just saying that because you’re the one paying them?” You smirk playfully.

“You’re a dick,” he chuckles gently, shoving your shoulder lightly. “You’re a fuckin’ dick, you know that?”

Later on, the two of you arrived at the venue. It was a refined and impressively massive establishment, in which you later actually recognized as part-art museum. Exiting the vehicle, you stood beside Derek at the front of the entrance, glancing at all the other wealthy people walking in.

“Hold onto my arm,” he directs in a mutter.

“Ew,” you scoff.

“Y/n.”

You rolled your eyes as you gave in, holding onto his arm as you walked into the building together. It was a bit crowded, occupied with older people in elegant getups; gentlemen in respectable suit and ties, women in sparkly dresses, et cetera, et cetera. The interior of the venue was spacious and exceptionally sophisticated, consisting of dignified architecture with the ceiling littered with expensive chandeliers. It definitely was not Derek’s scene, but it wasn’t even yours either.

“Shit. I forgot how pretentious your mother’s parties were,” you mumbled to him as the two of you walked further into building.

“What, did you forget that she’s the fucking President of the entire country too?” He retorted, which made you punch him lightly in the side with your free hand, making you grin once you saw his pained reaction.

“Dick,” you grumble. “Hey, where’s your mom?” You ask, trying to look past the crowd.

“I don’t know, she’ll turn up eventually,” he says, guiding you to a rather secluded spot against the wall. Suddenly remembering the whole purpose of this event, you weren’t sure when the actual auction would begin. But then again, you weren’t sure if you even cared.

“Oh shit, Nathaniel and Ophelia are here,” Derek interjects, pointing to a familiar pair across the room.

“Huh… Hey, why are you friends with them again? Didn’t you say they were, like, pretentious douchebags?” You remarked, looking at the said couple, who were drinking champagne and chatting at the opposite wall.

“Not friends, just, like… I don’t know, my mom wanted me to be in a good social circle, so she introduced me to them a few months back,” he shrugged. “But they’re just irritating, arrogant fucking pricks.”

“And you’re not?” He glared at you as you smirked. “You know, I don’t know if this is wrong of me to say, but… I really can’t tell if they’re siblings or dating,” you confess, squinting your eyes at them.

“Right? Like, I swear to fucking god, I thought I was the only one!” Derek exclaimed with enthusiasm. “Like, fuck, I’ve met up with them so many times in the past, but I still don’t fucking remember which one it is!”

The two of you cackled together as you observed the pair from across the room. “Oh shit, imagine if it’s just a whole Alabama situation,” you suggested, snickering towards Derek.

“God, that would be fucking terrible. Though, it would definitely explain the matching blue eyes,” he laughs. “Fuck, I’ve been waiting to find dirt on those two, they are fucking infuriating.”

“Jesus, it’s the whole Toad and Toadette debate all over again,” you chuckle softly.

“What?” He looks back at you curiously.

“What?”

“Toad and Toadette, it’s confirmed they’re dating,” Derek claimed.

Your eyebrows furrowed. “What? No, no, I could’ve sworn I read somewhere that they were siblings.”

“Uh, no, the creator himself said that they were girlfriend-boyfriend,” he remarks.

“Wh—Dude! All this time, I thought they were siblings!” You exclaimed, placing your hands on your head in shock.

“Yeah, well, they aren’t. You said you read it somewhere, what was it, fuckin’ Reddit?” He scoffed brashly with a cheeky grin.

“No. Fuck off,” you retort, frowning. “If anything, you’re the one on fucking Reddit, like, 24/7.”

“What? No—”

“Looking at ‘r/Crypto’ and ‘r/Nudes’, you ‘r/Dickhead’,” you teased, smirking playfully.

“Oh, fuck off—”

“Derek.”

Your pretend boyfriend’s speech freezes and you could see him tense up slightly at the mere voice of his mother. You noticed her in a stunning, carmine dress, her blonde hair pairing very well with it. Red was definitely her color. She glanced at Derek and then at you, a bit surprised. “And Y/n. I didn’t know you’d be joining us this evening.”

She looked back at her son. “You look very nice tonight, Derek, I’m very glad you were able to make it.” She then raises an interrogating eyebrow. “So, will your date be arriving here anytime soon?”

Derek eyes his mother, chuckling awkwardly. You felt like you were going to cringe at his next words, knowing what they would be. “Actually, Mom, uh… The date that I spoke to you on the phone about is actually… my partner, Y/n.”

And you did—inside, at least.

Jessica’s eyes widened as she looks back at you again. She knew you as Derek’s best friend—hell, his best friend since college. You didn’t work at Danforth Enterprises until she made Derek the CEO, resulting in him offering a job to you. But most of all, you and Derek had been strictly platonic friends for years, and it shocked her to her core to find out about this. “Seriously? You and… When did… When did this happen?”

“Well, you see, uh,” you began, playing with your fingers as you tried to recall everything you wrote and memorized on the index cards, “there was always—there was always something there, you know? Don’t you—don’t you think? Well, uh, one day, your son was very, um, hungover, and I stayed to take care of him.”

“They, uh,” Derek interrupted, chiming in. “That was, like, three months ago, right? Three, and um, they confessed their apparent romantic feelings towards me. You—you know, it was a very vulnerable moment, and I reciprocated… and yeah, now we’re dating.” He then stuttered out, “We, uh, we wanted to keep it under wraps for a while, but now, we figured we should… tell everyone now.”

And if it weren’t for that stupid, phony grin on his face, maybe she would have bought it. Though actually, you couldn’t really tell if she was convinced or not. There was a look of curiosity in her expression, paired with deep contemplation. You felt like you could detect doubt, but even that could be mixed up with bewilderment.

“Wow, uh… I wouldn’t say I expected this at all,” she says with a raised eyebrow. Then she looked at you with a small smile. “So you’ve been keeping my son on his toes if I’ve heard correctly, yes?”

You nod, glancing at Derek then back at her. “That’s right, ma’am. Uh, we all know his reputation, but, um… You know, ever since we started dating, he felt the urge to become a better person. And so did—so did I,” you remarked, remembering how Jessica also knew you as quite the trouble maker. After all, she caught the two of you getting high at another party before, similar to the sophistication of this one.

She was intrigued, to say the least. And suddenly, you had an epiphany: you just realized that what you were doing was deceiving the President of the United States. Fuck Derek, man.

“And that trending video of him?” You began, “That was taken, uh, three months ago during a party. It was actually the night before we started dating,” you explained, observing her reaction. “Why is everyone posting it now? Well, you see, uh…”

Fuck.

Fuck, you forgot. Did you seriously forget? Shit. What the hell was the reason?

She was looking at you expectedly. Fuck. What the fuck are you going to say? How did you forget something so simple?

“That video was taken on one of those digital cameras,” Derek butt in immediately. “The storage card was lost for a while, but I guess somebody found it and posted it, and now everybody’s reposting it.”

What. The. Fuck.

You were way more of an organized person than Derek. How the hell did he remember the lie that you wrote down, but you didn’t?

Nevertheless, Jessica nodded, a seemingly neutral expression plastered on her face. “That’s relieving to hear,” she hums softly, “well, I know that you aren’t really into these charity events, Derek, but—”

“Actually,” he began with a charming grin, “I think I will be participating in the auction this evening.” Way to go, Derek.

She looked at him in awe, glancing at you for a while, then back at him. “Seriously?”

“Yeah,” he nods pridefully. “I think this is a great cause, Mom.” Wow, he is killing it.

“O-oh. That’s wonderful of you to say, Derek. Well, this entire event is a gala and charity auction, so feel free to help yourselves in the drinks and food. There’s also dancing, but I know you aren’t—”

“I, uh, actually,” he chimes in once again. Jesus Christ, it was like she was testing him. “I would, uh… love to dance with my partner.” Your eyes widened as you felt the both of you cringe at his own response.

“Oh.” Suddenly, there was a small, genuine smile that creeped up on her lips. And you could tell that Derek noticed it too, because his face had just… softened. “Well, I hope you two enjoy the night.” She cupped Derek’s face with one hand and kissed the top of his head. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Mom,” he mutters softly.

“You look very handsome.”

“Thank you, Mom.”

“I am so proud of you.” Then she walked away to greet other people, disappearing in the tame crowd.

You noticed Derek’s widened eyes and chuckled softly to yourself at the sight.

“Holy shit…” he mumbled before lighting up. “Did you—Did you hear that? She said she was fucking proud of me. She’s never said that in, like, a long fucking time, or ever! Holy—holy fucking shit.”

“Congrats, man,” you grinned warmly. “But like… the dancing thing. I can’t fucking dance. I mean, you know that.”

“It’s easy, don’t worry,” he dismissed, getting two glasses of champagne from a caterer that just walked by, handing one of them to you. “Just copy what I do.”

You took a rather long sip of the champagne. Liquid courage, you figured. “I just… You know, I really don’t want to do it. We can—We can just say I got sick from one of the little gourmet shits and I can’t dance.”

“Y/n—C’mon, you heard my mom. She was proud of me. She’ll be even prouder when she sees me out there, dancing like a sophisticated, pretentious prick, like the other fucks here. Come on, Y/n. Please,” he pleaded, looking at you with utter desperation.

“I—I don’t understand, she did say she was proud of you. I’m sure you won’t have to worry about her cutting you off anymore since she’s seen that you ‘changed’,” you reason, raising an eyebrow.

“No—Y/n, Y/n, I’m hanging on by a fucking thread right now. She sees us dancing, she’ll be a hundred percent sure that I’ve ‘changed for the better’ and won’t take any drastic measures. Y/n, please.” You knew your best friend well. And you knew damn well that this wasn’t just about the money and being cut off. He wanted to please his mother, he needed to.

You groaned, rolling your eyes as you downed the remaining champagne in your glass. You pointed at his face with aggression. “I’m raising the damn price to one thousand, then. You know how much I can’t stand dancing.”

“Yeah, whatever, that’s fine with me,” he shrugs, then eyes you gently. “Thank you.”

It was no surprise to you that you would instantly regret saying yes to him.

“Ow—Fuck—Stop—stop stepping on my fucking toes,” Derek snarled as the two of you were in an embrace, your hands clasped together while your other hand was placed on your shoulder and his on your waist. Sophisticated, slow jazz music played in the background as you were surrounded by other people who, not surprisingly, danced better than the two of you.

“I fuckin’ warned you, didn’t I?” You scoffed in response, trying to move your feet correctly.

“Whatever, just… Is she—Is she watching us?” He mutters, looking at the crowd behind you.

“Umm, I don’t know, I don’t know where she is,” you reply, searching the room for the woman in the red dress.

“Ow—Goddammit, Y/n, keep your fucking feet to yourself!” He winces, giving you an angry glare.

“Fuck! It’s not my fault, dude, I already warned you!” You retort petulantly. “Where—Where did you even learn to dance, huh?”

“When I was younger. I had to take ballroom classes. I came from a rich family, you know, we had status, a reputation to uphold,” he explained, making you roll your eyes.

“Oh shit—I can see her, she’s in the crowd,” you say abruptly.

“Where?” Derek’s eyes suddenly widened as he looked at you with anticipation.

“Like, behind you. I think she’s talking to—Oh shit, she’s watching us now,” you say, glancing at Jessica from far across the room, watching the two of you dance.

“Fuck, okay. Okay… I’m gonna dip you,” he mutters.

What?

“What?!” You exclaimed.

“I’m just gonna dip you, earn us some more brownie points,” he figures.

“No! Fuck! No, no fucking way! Do not—do not fuckin’ dip me!” You warned furiously, feeling your face heat up.

“I’m gonna do it.”

“No! Fuck! Derek, I swear to god, I swear to fucking god, I will—I will put cyanide in your bourbon, you will never see the light of fucking day, I—”

You felt his hand reach towards your back as he kicked at your ankle, making you lose balance and fall back towards his hand. You frown at him as you see his cocky face above you until he brought you back up.

“I hate you,” you murmured.

“It’s not a big deal, dude, it—ow!”

“I did that on purpose,” you huff after you had stepped harshly on his foot.

“How does my mom look?” He asked.

“She’s…” you raise an eyebrow, then looked back at Derek warmly. “She’s crossing her arms and smiling at us. She looks really proud. Jesus, for the first time in her fucking life.”

Derek smiled to himself. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Oh, by the way, just for that little stunt you did back there, I’m raising it to fifteen hundred.”

“Fine with me,” he shrugs, now holding your hand in a looser grip. He guided it above your head, stretching your arm upward to spin you gracefully before bringing you back to him.

“God, I can’t wait to break up with you,” you chuckle softly, your movements more trained and fluid.

“Oh yeah?” He scoffs at your remark, laughing briefly, “Me too.”

[bebacebe]

letter to my 13 year old self

ft. yuuji itadori!!

cw. lil bit of angst, crying, fluffy, reader is itadori’s girlfriend, insecurity, lowercase intended, mentions of possible burning.

-authors note-

plsplsplspls PLEASE feedback is very much appreciated!! reblogs and comments also help a lot!! my first fic/drabble ever, hope you like it!! xx

moving to japan, or really moving at all at such a young age is bound to be tough. but what didn’t help was realizing just how different you really were.

how your curls would make you stick out in a room full of pin straight hair, how when you did hit puberty it was different from the other girls. you were “too full” in some places, while the other girls stayed nearly flat as a stick. how your sun kissed skin was blinded by the surroundings fair and milky complexion, no matter how hard you scrubbed. you were different, and that was okay. but… as always, progress and growth comes with some off days. days where you feel like your 13 again.

it was one of those days again. where you’d feel too bizarre to be out with how you look. you figured you’d might burn your hair off with how many times you’ve gone over it with the straightener. barely managing to escape a third degree burn, you drop it in shock once yuuji bursts the door to your dorm open, his excitement just making you even more embarrassed.

“baby, gojo just gave us 15000 yen as pocket cha-” he nearly giggled in excitement before looking up from the band of colorful money, seeing you on the verge of breaking down, the straighter steaming next to you. in hindsight, you probably looked crazy, half your hair poorly straightened, eyes red and teary and cheeks rosy and wet. “what happened?” he asks worriedly, his smile dropped as he rushes over to you.

sniffling, you wipe your tears with the back of your hand, looking up at him pitifully. “i-i dunno. ‘m just tired of looking like this, y’know?” you mumble, looking into the mirror of your vanity and picking at your curls. he stares at you, confused, before squishing your cheeks in his big palm, turning your head up towards him. “no, i don’t know.” he stubbornly replies, causing you to roll your eyes. “wouldn’t i look prettier with straight hair? or… or a nice, straight nose?” you elaborate, voice muffled by your cheeks. he blinks at you, thoroughly confused, and even a little annoyed with the thought. “i don’t think it’s possible for you to look prettier.” he truthfully remarks, watching as you nearly laugh, removing his hands from your cheeks and turning your head before he stops you, cupping them again, this time gently and carefully.

“im being serious, y/n. why would you wanna look like those boring ‘ole girls anyways? their skin doesn’t glow like yours. their hair doesn’t bounce with every step, its so boring. even their smiles are boring. why would you wanna be boring when you can be you? and anyways, i literally have pink hair, but do you think im weird? or ugly?” he muses, rambling on about you with furrowed eyebrows and a serious expression.

you nearly burst out in tears again, smiling at his words as you coo his name lovingly, watching as his face immediately brightens with yours. he squishes your cheeks again, smooching your lips with a big “mwah!”, his smile widening as you snicker a “gross!” at his wet kiss. he lets go of your face, hands trailing down to your hands. “you’re different, not weird.” he finishes tying up your hair carefully to hide the straightened pieces, and this time you beat him to the kiss. he wipes your lingering tears with his other hand, pulling you up by the hand and interlocking his fingers with yours, a wide smile on both of your faces.

“now c’mon, nobara said we should spend this money before gojo realizes how much he gave us.”

[rainbow-starheart]

Block, Avoid List aka B.A.L update

@Chocosirtartz (proshipper)

@basedhartman (fatphobe and inappropriate hater)

@xx-thefrostweavers-realmxx (narcissist truther, they will and change their username in one way or another, so heads up) update: they gone like their dad for milk

@Angelbabyspice (Self shipper hater and a failed mother)

@KarmaIsMyFriend (narcissist truther)

@Coulsonlive/Momantai (main account) of Dnihallofshame (Dni hater)

@Flowey-The-Lanternflower55 (ComShipper/proshipper)

@asillyauthor (she sends her white knight to harass a minor almost to the point of self harming)

@warmshotamilk (proshipper)

@narcissistic-abuse-blog (their name says it all)

@Skumhuu (Proshipper)

@Kokomoniii (Proshipper)

@nonelethal-au (Proshipper)

@rapemurderandkillallageres (they have a weird hatred on age regressers)

@i-reblog-racists (Karen, don't bother talking to them)

@nullheaven (Albeist)

@zorailys (Proshipper and suicide baiter)

@eric-cartman-my-beloved (proshipper)

[doctordonovan]

 adding to this:    if we’re mutuals and you want to unfollow   -   that’s fine!!    you do you.   but please soft block me?   it’s getting really depressing coming onto the dash lately and seeing so many once mutuals now no longer so.

❀    ||    okay so, this old PSA again - I’m so sorry to repeat this but it keeps on coming up.

1. maeve’s not a medical doctor. she has multiple PhDs, she’s canonly enough of a genius to be spencer’s match, but she can’t prescribe anything or do medical doctor things.

2. yes, maeve is from a crime show but she’s not part of the team and she’s not a cop / involved in that side. she’s a victim who survived. she does have a profiler verse, but I don't use that often and I'll need to be told if you send something with that verse specifically in mind.

I’m really sorry to seem like I’m being negative on the dash! it’s just become more of a thing and I hate having to not answer memes or starters because of it.

[daceydeath]

Fallen Angel

Pairing: Park Seonghwa x Reader

Word Count: 0.5K

Genre: Fantasy, Smut

Warnings: 18+, Swearing, Explicit Activities

No matter how many times the elders had told you not to stray too deep into the woods or to avoid the ruins on the clifftop at all costs you never listened and now you had to pay for it. Your clothes lay torn on the ground around you having been pulled from your body with an almost divine power and the most ethereal creature you had ever seen was before you dressed only in dark robes which he had slipped from his shoulders the moment your nakedness became apparent to him. He stood before you in all his glory, his perfect body almost dwarfed by the exquisite inky feathers that shone deep blue and green in the moonlight protruding from his back.

“What are you?” You wondered in awe looking at him wide eyed, a feeling of euphoria coming over you as each second passed removing all of all your inhibitions.

“Does it truly matter?” He questioned tilting his head, his eyes taking over your body which was still fully exposed to him. Striding over to you purposefully.

“No” you admitted, your mouth almost watering when your eyes landed on his cock hanging heavy and hard between his legs.

“Good” he smirked devilishly, picking you up and pressing you against the side of the ruined tower, the rough stone scratching at your back lightly. Without warning he lined himself up and sheathed himself fully inside you making you cry out loudly at the feeling of having him so deep inside you. Claiming your lips he proceeded to pound into you roughly each thrust making you feel like he was trying to tear you in half as you stretched around him.

“Ah, yes, ah, fuck” you chanted like a mantra with each pass roll of his hips against yours, an almost prayer in the darkness.

“So good, so wet, so warm” he groaned, his head falling to your shoulder while your hands gripped his back tightly, leaving indents from your nails across his flawless skin. Your head fell back against the stone as you felt yourself reach your peak, your walls tightening around him as you moaned obscenely.

“Fuck, too much” you panted but he ignored you completely continuing the sharp thrusts into you core until you started to feel another high approaching.

“Again little human” he instructed, gently biting down on your shoulder as your second orgasm washed over you, making you scream your walls clamping down on him, making him grunt and empty himself into you before carefully laying you on a patch of grass beside the stone wall.

“I don't know your name” you murmured softly feeling far too lightheaded to feel self conscious about the fact.

“You can call me Seonghwa, my little human” he smiled, tucking some of your hair behind your ear.

“Seonghwa” you repeated, feeling how the word felt on your tongue.

“My name is” you started but he cut you off, closing your lips with his finger.

“It is unimportant my little human. For now you need some rest before I have you again” he smirked as you swallowed hard. one of his large wings wrapping around to shield you both from the moonlight “I have not yet had my fill of you and I will not let you leave until I have”.

A/N: Thank you for reading. This is my first foray into writing for Ateez so I hope I did it justice. All comments, likes and reblogs are deeply appreciated as always xx

Taglist (open): @christopher-bangnaldoskzz , @armystay89 , @damnyouficc , @roamingpolar , @tara-skyhold , @bakedlilgoonie , @krishastumblernow , @mrsseals16 , @fawnpeaks , @leeknowinggg , @uno7, @tanzen-ist-gold

[iamthat-iam]

my friend suffered from depersonalization-derealization disorder from nondualism. yes, she did let go of her body and ego but she became someone she didn’t know. she stopped seeing herself as “herself”. she stopped living life and completely felt well, depersonalized lol. her dissassociation led to anxiety jitters, numbness, emptiness, and an overall sense of loss and despair, and complete denial of her own existence. basically she felt dead and now learning and even hearing about nondualism is starting to trigger this. how do we prevent this?

yes ik we’re supposed to lose our body-mind and all that but depersonalization-derealization disorder is not fun lmao. i’m not saying this to “call out” nondualism, i love learning about non-dualism too but depersonalization disorder is dangerous and i definitely do not want depersonalization-derealization disorder.

And this is where people tend to misunderstand/ misinterpret Non Dualism/Advaita Vedanta.

We say there's nothing to do, and people take that to mean "stop living your life and stare at the ceiling all day." No one has said to put your life on hold.

There's no ego and no physical body here to let go of. I don't know what your friend did, but it sounds like she was fighting the illusion and trying to force change on to something that's not even really there. Trying too hard.

"Derealisation is a feeling, constantly questioning if you are real, if your surroundings are real. Derealisation is a feeling, doubting, getting scared, constantly questioning everything.

Now I KNOW I am all there is, the only one. Self Realisation is Confidence, Authority and knowing. When everything is YOU, then what is there to be scared of? When you Know no harm can come to you? It’s Freedom."- @i-amyou

"Derealisation leads to feel like everything even yourself is exterior and you're not part of it. ND teaches the opposite. It leads to oneness"- @cassandra-xx

These mental disorders make you feel SEPERATE from everything. Non Dualism teaches the opposite, everything is you, you are one with everything. Nothing is lost, everything is gained.

I recommend this post as well.