god's closet

you dont need to know anything for sure. the fact that girls make your heart go thwump thwump or that you think about them a lot or you want to be held in a girl’s arms is enough. definitions are fun, but defining who you are is a journey. just be. 

Half cosplay, half my rad photoshop skillz

(Amelia, the Burrowing Owl Siren from @emo-rock-tale)

this just makes me so sad because they always do their actual most not to actually deny anything when it comes to this, instead of just going no, they ramble and do everything to go around the question and never actually straight up deny it when we know they’re capable of denying things and it makes me so angry that they even have to go through these moments just

you know that feeling when you realize that you’re so fucking gay and just want a cuteass girlfriend to cuddle with and tell stupid jokes to and go to early morning coffee shops with and fall asleep on top of and take weekend car trips with while listening to the most cliche songs and singing at the top of your lungs

and then you remember that you’re not out yet and have no clue how to even find said girlfriend

God willing, this is the only public post I will need to make about this situation with the fairy tale program that dare not speak its name. Almost assuredly, in private, certain individuals (y'all know who you are) will receive the brunt of any potential frustration in the next few days. Regardless, I wanted to say a few things about fandom. And this show. And stories. And blankets. 

Keep reading

20 minutes into Game Theory and Chill and he gives you the look.

3

meanwhile, in a nearby bush:

Oops? (Jughead x Reader)

Prompt: Request where the squad is pretty sure Jug and reader are in love together/fucking but have no solid proof, then jug gets mad or something like that and they all back off the idea. Then one day the gang goes back to Archie’s for some reason when everyone is supposed to be out (juggies homeless ass is staying there) and they hear them fucking

A/N: Fun fact - I listened to One Direction’s first album while I wrote this? (I’m actually a loser. I’m sorry.) It’s now 4:30am and I’m going to try and sleep. (God I’m so tired. Sorry if there’s any mistakes or if it sucks.)

Masterlist

Warnings: Talk of sex? Swearing? Idek?

Oops? (Jughead x Reader)

You pull away from his soft chapped lips.

“Jug, We have to go.” You gasp as his lips attach themselves to your burning skin.

The bell rings above your heads, pulling you two apart.

“See you after school?” He says breathless.

You nod and fix your sweater as he fixes his hair.

He gives you another peck and leaves the janitor’s closet.

God, You were fucked.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

So...Can we please have a demisexual Maggie who's never been close enough to any of her girlfriends to develop sexual feelings for them but she's actually opening up with Alex and stuff and eventually realizes that she's actually reached that point for the first time in her life which leads to her and Alex sleeping together for the first time and it's all super emotional and shit. (My grandmother told me she wants me to see a therapist so I can "get over" being demi and I kinda need validation.)

She doesn’t panic when it’s just kissing.

Kissing is nice.

And kissing Alex Danvers is spectacular.

So she doesn’t panic when it’s just kissing.

She loves when it’s just kissing.

And Alex is aggressive in the way she starts things, the way she pulls Maggie into her body – at the bar, in her living room – and puts her lips on hers, but Alex always freezes, like she doesn’t quite know what to do next, like she’s on overload.

Like maybe, she’s like Maggie. Like maybe, she doesn’t know Maggie well enough yet to want to do anything more with her.

Anything more sexually, that is. Because god, does Maggie want to do everything else with Alex.

Late night pizza and Netflix, rainy morning yoga, kissing and cuddling until they fall asleep, shooting pool until Maggie finally can win, movies and books and science and the job.

Saving the world.

Together.

Maggie wants all of it, and apparently – to her perpetual disbelief, because how could someone so powerful, so gorgeous, want her? – Alex wants all that with her, too.

And it’s gradual.

It’s gradual, the way Maggie starts wanting different kinds of intimacy. With Alex.

Gradual, the way she realizes that she’s kissing her deeper, that her hands are slipping under Alex’s shirt, that Alex’s body is arching in response to her touch and her own body catches fire at the sound of Alex’s soft moans.

That she’s breathing her own moans into Alex’s parted lips.

And that’s when Maggie panics.

Because Alex is going to leave.

Maggie’s sure of it.

Because Alex has been teasing – a lot – about how inexperienced she is, about how much experience Maggie must have, how Maggie should feel free to give her kissing tips, touching tips, ladies-loving-ladies flash cards, whenever she wants.

But Alex has slept with men. Not that she loved it, or even liked it.

But Maggie? Maggie hasn’t slept with anyone.

She’s never… wanted to. She’s never felt close enough to anyone, never known someone enough to feel for someone else what she does to herself with her own hands, alone, when she needs to cum before falling asleep.

She’s never wanted to, not with anyone else, but with Alex?

God, with Alex, she’s starting to… to want everything.

But when Alex finds out? That Maggie’s just as inexperienced as Alex is, in some ways moreso, that she’ll probably be an emotional mess – not to mention a physical one – if they keep going in this direction, if they keep taking off each other’s shirts and touching each other over bras and panting at grinding their thighs between each other’s legs?

She’ll leave for sure.

Right? Because everyone leaves. Because Maggie drives everyone away.

“Whoa, whoa, hey, you alright? Did I hurt you?” Alex is asking, jolting her out of their kiss, her thoughts, her terrors, her fears. And, apparently, her shaking.

Alex’s eyes are wide, concerned, and Maggie knows, knows, that even though Alex is amazing, she’s going to think Maggie’s broken. Going to think Maggie needs to get over it. Going to think Maggie’s weird and unworthy and too much, and she should have her coming out affair with someone who can have sex with whomever, whenever.

“I want you,” Maggie chokes out in a whisper, and it’s the first time she’s ever said it to anyone, because getting herself off at night is one thing, but sleeping with another person is completely, completely another.

They’re the scariest three words she’s ever said, and Alex? Alex just smiles, strokes her hair, kisses her forehead.

“You have me,” she tells her, her voice at once a reassurance and a question.

Reassurance because she’s there, she’s there, she’s not going anywhere; a question because yes, yes, she wants her too, but why is that making her this scared?

“I want to have sex with you,” Maggie clarifies, tears in her eyes and her body on fire and her lungs barely working, and Alex’s breath hitches.

“Yeah? Good, because I um… I’ve been thinking about it. Wanting it. A lot. And I’ve been… researching a little, and I… I want to have sex with you, too. I… if you want. I mean, I know I’ve never done this with a woman, but – ”

“I’ve never done it at all.”

There’s silence and Maggie braces herself for goodbye, braces herself for laughter, braces herself for mockery and judgment and all the things that part of her brain, her heart – the parts that have let herself fall in love with Alex Danvers, the parts that have let herself want Alex Danvers – know Alex would never do. But she’s terrified, anyway.

Alex just cocks her head and squints and freezes slightly, but she blinks and she swallows and when she speaks, her voice is soft and her lips are twitching up into the same supportive smile Maggie wore when Alex stumbled her way out of the closet.

“God, you must think I’m such a jerk.”

Maggie blinks. If she was expecting any reaction, it wasn’t that. “What?”

“I’ve been teasing you this whole time about being so experienced, and I… I’m sorry, that must have made you so uncomfortable, I didn’t… I just assumed. I shouldn’t have. Maggie, I’m so sorry. But… can I ask you something?”

Maggie nods because something in her throat might be broken.

“Do you really want me, or do you just… are you just trying to give me something you think I want? And I mean I do. Want it. Want you. But only if you do.”

“No, I… I want… I want you. Alex. I… I’ve never… I don’t get attracted to people. Sexually. If I don’t… know them, if I don’t feel a certain way for them, I…”

She stammers off, because what kind of loser tells someone they love them before sleeping with them? How pathetic can she get?

But Alex’s eyes are light, are happiness, are reciprocal, and Alex’s touch is gentle, and Alex’s lips press against her own so slightly, so carefully, it’s like they’ve never kissed before but she wants to for the rest of her life.

“So you’re saying you like me? Enough to want me.”

“Danvers – ”

“Cause that works perfectly for me. Because I like you, too, Maggie Sawyer. Enough to want you.” Her eyes drag down Maggie’s body, slow and steady and hungry, but also… reverent, somehow. Maggie’s heart contorts into fireworks. “All of you.”

Maggie forgets what breathing is, and her heart’s never raced like this before, but Alex’s hands are warm and comforting on her cheeks, and god, does she want those hands all over her body.

“So take me. All of me.”

Alex grins like it’s Christmas morning – or maybe Chanukah, Maggie’s not sure what the equivalent would be, and makes a mental note to ask her later – and then all thought exhales out of Maggie’s body because Alex is up and Alex is tugging her up, too, and Alex is carrying her to bed, all the while kissing her, kissing her, kissing her like she’s oxygen, and she is, god, she is.

“Alex,” Maggie breathes as Alex lays her down, careful to put a pillow under her head, careful to not put all her weight on top of her, and Alex stops immediately, concern back in her eyes.

“Too much? I’m sorry, we can stop, or slow down, I’m sorry, I just… I’ve been wanting to do this,” she husks, her eyes again raking down Maggie’s body, like they did after she first kissed her in the bar, and the path of her eyes ignites heat in Maggie’s core that no one’s ever made her feel before and no, no, no, it’s not too fast.

Because it’s not fast enough.

“Kiss me,” she begs, and Alex grins again, and Alex complies, and Maggie shifts so her thigh is between Alex’s legs, and Alex tosses her head back and she moans and she looks down into Maggie’s eyes like she’s the entire universe, because she is.

“You are so beautiful,” she says, and one of her hands traces up Maggie’s shirt. “I want… I want to feel your skin. On mine.”

Maggie nods and Alex slips off her, shucking off her own shirt and watching as Maggie does the same, watching as Maggie arches her hips off the bed and tugs down her jeans as Alex kneels and mirrors the action.

“Wait,” Maggie asks as Alex reaches for her own bra clasp, eyes still on Maggie’s. “May I?”

“Yeah.” Alex voice is ragged and wrecked and Maggie imagines hers sounds about the same.

She gasps softly when Alex’s bra slips down her shoulders, and Alex bites her lip.

“Don’t be nervous, you… you’re perfect, Alex. You are so fucking gorgeous.”

“Can I?” is all Alex says in response, nodding at Maggie’s chest, and it’s Maggie’s turn to bite her own lip, because her heart is slamming so damn hard but she nods because yes, yes, yes, please.

Alex smirks when she unhooks Maggie’s bra in one try, and Maggie scowls but gives a laugh that turns into an excited gasp when Alex leans back down on top of her, both now wearing nothing but their underwear, Maggie in boxers, Alex in boyshorts.

The difference in the heat between their legs without their jeans; the difference between being shirtless and topless; the difference between being nearly naked and mostly clothed, makes both of them freeze, makes both of them stare, makes both of them shake.

“I love you,” Maggie breathes at the same moment that Alex says the same, and Alex drops her forehead to Maggie’s as they both giggle, as they both exhale in shaky relief, as tears prick both of their eyes.

“May I… I want to make love to you, Alex.”

“Yeah, same.”

“Good then.”

They have to stop every few moments, every few touches, to catch their breath. To avoid hyperventilating with excitement, with nerves, with new sensations, with overwhelming need. And each time they do, they kiss; each time they do, they stare into each other’s eyes; each time they do, they ask if the other needs to stop;  each time they do, they giggle slightly with relief, with shared nerves, shared excitement, shared exhilaration; each time they do, they press their foreheads together and breathe. Just breathe.

When their need to have skin on skin outweighs their fears, outweighs their nerves, so that they’re completely naked, Alex freezes, and Maggie freezes, and Alex holds most of her weight up on her left arm while interlacing her right hand through Maggie’s fingers.

“All good?”

“This feels perfect. You?”

“I want you so bad.”

“So do something about it instead of talking about it, Danvers.”

They both giggle at that, but Alex swallows their soft laughter in the ferocity of her next kiss, her eagerness to live up to Maggie’s teasing challenge.

Her teeth graze Maggie’s throat, her tongue traces her collarbone, her lips claim one of her nipples. Maggie screams and Alex pauses, and a tear streams down Maggie’s cheek and Alex crawls up to kiss it, to kiss her, before Maggie shakes her head and pushes her head back down.

“Please don’t get all soft on me now, Danvers,” she teases, and Alex grins wickedly instead of pointing out that Maggie’s crying – it would be a useless argument, because she’s got tears in her own eyes, too – and she occupies herself again with Maggie’s breasts, knowing that yep, yep, yep, she’s definitely gay, and she’s definitely gone completely soft on this woman.

She slips one of her thighs between Maggie’s legs tentatively, and when Maggie lets out a gasp that’s more of a scream, she freezes again, but Maggie just raises one of her own legs so Alex has pressure between hers, too. And it’s Alex’s turn to gasp, to scream, and they keep their eyes locked as Maggie arches her hips up, as Alex arches her hips down, each riding the other’s thigh slow, soft, frictionless.

Frictionless, because, “Damn Danvers, you’re so wet,” and “Never for anyone but you, Sawyer,” and “Same, Alex. Same.”

They arch their hips harder, faster, both of Alex’s hands now holding Maggie’s down against the mattress, fingers interlaced, Maggie nodding constantly to let Alex know yes, yes, yes, and when the muscles in Alex’s back tense with her orgasm, she screams Maggie’s name and her eyes squeeze shut and that image, that sound, that feeling of how wet Alex is all over Maggie’s thigh, that feeling of Alex’s body hot and sweating and firm on top of her, of Alex’s leg between hers, giving her all the pressure in all the right places, sends Maggie over her own edge, with Alex’s name on her own lips, but softly, softly, softly, sending up a perfect harmony with Alex’s louder screams.

“Maggie,” Alex whispers as they both come back down, as she untangles their fingers and lifts her body to make sure she doesn’t collapse her entire weight onto Maggie’s, resting her forehead on Maggie’s collarbone, breathing, breathing, breathing.

“Was that okay?” she asks, and it’s tears, not just sweat, on Maggie’s face.

And, she realizes with a start, on her own, too.

“More than okay, Danvers. You?”

“Yeah. Definitely yeah. Uh… was that something you’d… wanna do again?”

“With you, Alex? Definitely yeah.”

a bunch of pharah headcanons from the mod

-fareeha is the reason behind most of the shenanigans at helix security

-so much less of a hardass than she seems

-has definitely backflipped off of a tall building in her raptora suit “to see if she could land on her feet.”

-hosts weekly dnd games on base.

-never challenge this woman to any kind of competition she’s so competitive oh god

-her closet is 50% uniform, 50% flannels