DAMNNNN OKAY

I just wanna say something real quick.

I love all of you so much, and don't get me wrong, I love seeing you guys read my work.

Please don't take this the wrong way.

Why don't you guys reblog? I'm just looking at the like to reblog ratio on my most recent fics and drabbles and it's honestly so disappointing. And it's not just on my fics, I've noticed it on my friends fics too.

Here are two examples:

And yeah, those reblog numbers aren't the lowest but you've gotta keep in mind that a lot of those are me responding to comments or doing timezone reblogs to make sure my friends are seeing it in the first place. So, half those numbers at least is how many people are sharing my work with their friends. Half.

Tumblr doesn't work like twitter or tiktok or any of the other social media platforms where likes get your work circling the community. On tumblr, only reblogs do that.

And why wouldn't you want to share something you enjoyed? Because you'll be embarrassed? Because people might think "oh this person's weird" and unfollow you? If that's what they think of you, then they weren't worth keeping on your page in the first place.

Surround yourself with people and blogs who're into the same things you are. Who's gonna see you share a fic and go "ooo lemme read it too."

Reblogging is how you support authors on this hellsite, and I don't think we're asking for much when we ask you to share our work. You don't even have to put anything in the tags or write a comment if you don't want to - it's okay. Seeing you share it is more than enough. (Though we do love seeing your reactions)

Please. Support your authors. Show them some love. Share their work.

I hate it here is for all the girlies who grew up reading books as a precocious child and dreamt of worlds that exist only in a sophisticated imagination, for the girls who live in delusions

Me when I can’t find the very specific 100k slow -burn enemies to lovers, angst with a happy ending, award winning fic that my brain created during my before bed story time, realising I have to write it myself to be able to read it

I KNEW IT WAS FAMILIAR TO MEEEEE!!!! loved this sm AND I LOVE HOW U WROTE THE WHOLE DYNAMIC BETWEEN THE READER AND NETEYAM> IS PART 2 COMING ???

JUST NETEYAM | neteyam x reader

pairing: olo'eyktan!neteyam x f!reader

summary: despite being from a different clan and expected to marry the leader of the omatikaya without knowing him, you agree to it for the sake of your family, but doubts start haunting you the moment you set foot in the clan, causing you to plan your escape on the day of your mating ceremony.

word count: 8k

warnings: arranged marriage trope, fluffffff, love-at-first-sight kinda thing, a bit of angst in the beginning, traditions, non-sexual nudity, prejudiced reader, royal neteyam, he is just such a prince it’s unreal!!

note: all characters are aged up by five years. the title eyktan/eykte (leader) being unofficially reserved for the olo'eyktan (clan leader)’s mate made sense to me since both are supposed to rule together. please correct me if i’m wrong. see end notes for more.

* gif‘s not mine.

You will learn to love her. He remembered his mother’s voice, and he recalled the vast expanse of the sky, where billowing clouds danced gracefully and the wind embraced him with gentle caresses. The sky, like an endless canvas, painted in hues of blue, purple, and gold, held a beauty that stirred his soul. 

Instead of roaring waves crashing against the cliffs, he witnessed the majestic flight of ikrans, soaring high above the jagged peaks. Their wings, strong and mighty, carried him through the heavens, as if he were a part of their elegant dance. Gone were the humpbacked sea surfaces, replaced by the boundless freedom of the open sky. The white foam, once adorning the ocean’s crown, now transformed into fluffy clouds, resembling intricately woven blankets. It was as if the heavens themselves provided a soft embrace, offering comfort and warmth.

Keep reading

𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐆𝐅 𝐄𝐑𝐀

𝐕𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 𝐒𝐅𝐖, 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐚/𝐧: 𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐲, 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐲/𝐧 𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐮𝐩 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐦𝐞? 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡 𝐧𝐨 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐡𝐜𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 <𝟑

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭, 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐠𝐨 𝐭𝐨 𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐞𝐫

he loves it. he loves seeing you taking care of yourself like you should.

he actually drives you to your lash appointment and helps you pick a style you'd like

also helps you pick a nail colour and style when you can't decide what to get

lets you wear whatever you want. he can fight sis, pick the sluttiest thing you can find and he'll be on his knees for you

paying for your clothes and makeup? absolutely, mans loves seeing you all dolled up

often gives you compliments on your makeup and outfit

he actually agrees to wearing matching fits and even takes couple pics with you

he'll carry the heavy shit and open jars for you, he don't want you to break your nails

"baby, can you open this for me? i don't wanna break my nails" you asked as you walked in the living room with a jar, giving him a pout

"of course, princess. let me handle it"

you in your spoiled girlfriend era with him

passanger seat princess check

he buys you huge bouqets of flowers and gives you gifts just cause. he don't need a reason to spoil his pretty gf

pretty gf x obsessed bf kinda vibes

opens doors, pulls your chair and lets you walk on the inside of the sidewalk

loves it when you get dressed up, but he also loves it when you don't. man's just head over heels no matter what

the man loves showing you off wherever you go

no matter how long you take to get ready to go somewhere, he says it's always worth it.

gives you his credit card without you even asking for it.

you could act like a spoiled brat the whole day and you'd still get whatever you want lmao, the man is smitten

carries you in his arms or on his back when you get tired of walking

kisses your hand while he drives and if it's a manual, he shifts gears while holding your hand

he will take pictures of you if you ask him to, he's the type to lay flat on the floor just to get your angle

spends his money on you like he's made out of it, holidays, restaurant dates, expensive dates and all that thang

whatever you want, your man will get it for you

a/n: for all my girlies out there who are sick of the basic bitch y/n trope. sis, i feel you.

p.s: reblog so my work can reach more people

GOOD LORDDDD.... LOVED THIS <333

──miguel o'hara nsfw headcanons. ୨୧ part two.

ʚ 🗯 ɞ 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 ꓹ 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒏 .ᐟ 𓏧 463 wc. afab!reader. sub!miguel. soft, service!dom miguel. praise. marking ( bites , hickies ). mild possessive behavior. oral ( r!receiving ). size k. titty sucking. face sitting. breeding k. fingering. daddy k.

꒰ 𝒂 𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒂𝒈𝒆 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒂𝒅𝒚 ୨୧ ── goshhh .. 'm soso in love with this man !!! the obsession has been rotting mye brain u_u submissive miggy , my beloved 💭🐑 send asks to fuel mye insane obsession ( > < 🦑 ) 〜 ♡ ( please reblog mwy work if yuu enjoy it ! )

𔘓 miguel is a surprisingly submissive. he folds instantly the moment you show any hint of dominance. the man is so eager to please, so eager to be good and give you anything you want.

𔘓 he makes sure you're constantly marked up. hickies and bites constantly litter your neck. very rarely do you leave the house without his possessive claim.

𔘓 miguel is a pussy eating champ. he eats you out like a man starved, growling and humping the bed while devouring your sopping cunt. he's messy about it too ; slobbering and spitting. if he could, he'd definitely eat you out 24/7.

𔘓 when he is more dominant, he's more of a soft service dom. he's not one for degrading you, instead getting off on praising every little thing about you. he'll fuck you hard while mumbling how much he loves you, how pretty and perfect you are. sometimes in english, sometimes in spanish.

𔘓 he's an absolute sucker for your size difference, especially if you're significantly smaller than him. loves gently manhandling you, moving your body into all sorts of positions.

𔘓 major titty sucker. small titties? big titties? doesn't matter, miguel is gonna suck on them.

𔘓 he has a preference for slow, passionate sex. holding you close, grinding into you, kissing you and telling you just how precious you are to him.

𔘓 sit. on. his. face. suffocate him, ride his face with no care for his ability to breathe. he wants to be absolutely smothered by your throbbing cunt.

𔘓 you already know this man is packing. both long and thick, pretty veins all over. he has quite thick hair down there, but he keeps it neatly trimmed.

𔘓 miguel cums like crazy and loves cumming inside of you. you're always left dripping his release from your puffy, used cunt.

𔘓 he loves to finger you. he could spend hours with you sat between his legs, fingering you through multiple orgasms. miguel really likes to thoroughly stretch you around his fingers before he fucks you.

𔘓 praise him !!! it makes his eyes flutter and gets him so needy for you. he'd really do anything just for a second of praise.

𔘓 pull his hair and you'll have him seeing stars. pull it while he eats you out or while riding him and he'll cum almost instantly.

𔘓 he has a major daddy kink. he goes absolutely feral whenever you call him it. whether it be during sex or in an everyday setting, it never fails to get the man thrumming with the desire to breed you.

𔘓 miguel can be pretty vocal. growls and groans ; sometimes moans, whines, and whimpers when he's really worked up. he makes sure you know just how good you're making him feel.

　 　 　 　 　 ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𖹭⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪

© 𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒊𝒆𝒖𝒓 ｡

mama

MIA

THIS WAS AMAZING OH MY GOSH

reverie || bradley “rooster” bradshaw

summary: arguing with rooster in the rain. :) what could possibly happen? you definitely won’t kiss in the midst of a storm. right? right???? unless…

words: ~1.1k

warnings: brief mentions of violence, angst, cliche rain kiss. raining on the beach kiss (ok mayb this is even more romantic but i’m 100% here for it) also some swearing

a/n: MY FAVORITE FIC TROPE OF ALL TIME. i knew i was due for a rooster fic with the classic rain kiss scene, so here we are!!

“Echo. What are you doing out here?” 

You turned around to see a rather calm-looking Rooster standing by the dock.

“Leave me alone.”

Rooster sighed, and started making his way down the wooden steps. “We need to talk.”

“No, we don’t.”

“Yes, we do.”

Keep reading

gaz and the wallflower. 'tis the season for self-indulgence. cw: alcohol

you're not sure why you agreed to come.

parties have never been your thing. the music's always too loud, and the number of strangers is always exhausting. tonight, everyone seems determined to find the holiday spirit at the bottom of a glass. you guess the alternative—sitting in bed with only your cat for company, scrolling aimlessly—would be worse. certainly more pathetic.

your flatmate had begged you. at first, she'd been casual. perched on the edge of the sink, curling her eyelashes, tossing out the invitation like it didn't matter either way. then, when you mentioned starting a new puzzle, she shifted. she lined her words up in a neat row. she had her reasons, and they came fast.

she couldn't go alone. she couldn't leave you alone, either. you'd know people there, she promised, it wouldn't be like the other times she dragged you out. john would be there, obviously, as would simon and soap. and kyle. you liked kyle, didn't you?

the first time you met him was another night at some pub. you'd nearly melted into the floor when she introduced you. "this is my flatmate. she's shy, so be nice." the words hit you squarely in the chest, singed your cheeks, and you'd thought briefly about slipping out the back door. the men barely glanced at you, their attention ricocheting back to their pints and conversation, except kyle. he stayed planted in your periphery, and when you risked looking up, you found him watching you, his mouth lifting in the corner.

"lovely to meet you," he'd said, and you'd managed to eke something out before skittering to the bar to order. you'd stuck close to your flatmate the rest of the night, even as she and john dissolved into their usual nauseating couple routine. if you felt kyle's gaze from down the table, you ignored it.

one drink in, you'd muttered something about a headache, grabbed your coat, and left.

you liked kyle, didn't you?

well...

when you arrived, you floated, half-hidden behind your flatmate, letting her take the reins to usher you through the packed house. you felt more like a prized pony with the way she presented you to people while you mumbled polite hellos and imagined silent commentary. yes, that's right, i'm the mysterious recluse who shares her rent. oh, you know her from pilates? how fascinating. oh, you're old school friends? of course. she seemed to know everyone. why she needed you in attendance, you didn't know.

eventually, she left you on the edges, john having finally arrived. you glanced around and spotted one familiar face—kyle. but he was mid-laugh, mid-conversation, already folded into the room's warmth in a way you couldn't imagine being. 

you slipped away before he could spot you.

historically, you've never done well with the socially gifted. folks who thrive in crowds, extroverts who absorb energy from it all. your flatmate is the exception, and it's a helpful arrangement. she fields deliveries and visits with the landlady. she's good for company, and her occasional night in. she's a better gossip than the cat, who isn't much of a conversationalist, and you're not immune to loneliness.

still, there's an ache to it. you envy her sometimes. her affable nature, her ability to take up space without apology. you've always been quiet, someone who gets spoken over. perpetually torn between wanting to be noticed and dreading the moment someone actually looks too closely.

which is why it feels almost miraculous how kyle doesn't make a show of it. you wouldn't even notice him approaching if you weren't already scanning the room, rehearsing excuses to leave, plotting a french exit. but then he's there, sliding into your orbit. a drink in his hand, an easy smile on his face. like you've known each other for years, not just one brief introduction.

he doesn't ask if you're alright or why you're standing off to the side of things. he seems smart enough to know those questions tend to come off wrong. awkward. a little patronizing. instead, he glances at the empty glass dangling from your fingers.

"need a refill?"

he doesn't wait for more than a nod before taking it and braving the packed kitchen to fetch another.

"not your scene, is it?" he asks, slotting the drink into your hand upon his return.

you laugh nervously, though it's more air than sound. up close, he's almost too much. undeniably handsome, with that easy confidence that feels like it should come with a catch. you half expect someone to slip him cash or for him to crack a joke at your expense, something to break the spell. but he doesn't. he just leans an elbow on the wall beside you and cozies up. god, he even smells good.

"that obvious?"

"since you walked in."your cheeks heat.

"i hoped you'd be here, actually. she's always going on about you."

that's news to you, but it seems sincere. you drum your fingers on your glass and shrug. play it cool. "she tends to exaggerate." you have no idea what she would even say about you. that you like puzzles and single-player games? that you have what's probably an unhealthy codependent relationship with your cat?

he grins. "i don't know, don't think she has. at least not this time. she said you're shy."

"don't remind me."

"a tough nut to crack."

"well, i wouldn't say that." he laughs at that, and you take a sip of your wine, the warmth in your cheeks spreading down to your chest.

it's stupid, the little knot of petulance tightening in your stomach. you want to be annoyed. the music is too loud, the crowd unbearable, the lights too harsh. even the wine tastes off, tart and acidic. there's a dozen reasons to leave, all of them ready to go in your head. but then here's kyle, tilting that all on its head, making your carefully constructed exit strategy feel flimsy and ridiculous.

before you know it, he reels you into an actual conversation. he pokes fun at the music. the way john keeps dragging your friend under the mistletoe. how simon glares daggers at anyone who even looks at soap.

and he makes you smile and laugh properly this time.

"you've got a great smile." he pays the compliment so softly, offhand like it's a simple fact, you almost look around to check again to ensure no one's put him up to it. then he continues, finishing his anecdote, and you realize you're actually enjoying yourself.

it's new. it's…nice. really nice.

you learn more about him—about his mums, how they're in greece for the holidays, and he won't see them until the new year. he tells you he wants to adopt a pet, but he can't, not with his job. you assume, maybe a little too quickly, that he means a dog, but he shakes his head. no, he wants a cat. ideally one that's lazy and less fussy. good for a night in. his life's chaotic enough as it is.

by the time it circles back to you, you're a little stunned. smitten, maybe. and from across the room, you catch your flatmate's eye. over john's shoulder, she gives you a sly thumbs-up and a big, dramatic wink.

oh. that sneak.