dkharbour: Who says I’m not a winner? Hair smells like magic and rainbows and the temples are supple yet strangely firm to the touch. If you havent seen @thebigsickmovie you’re weird (not in the good way weird). One day when I grow up I want to be @kumailn 😊
Not hurt Spock. But I couldn’t not share it. I found this on Pinterest but I wasn’t able to trace the original artist. In any case, now that I think about it, normal Vulcan couples probably don’t “kiss” in public. While it is nothing strange to humans (touching fingers is meh!!!), Spock was probably wondering what happened to his parents’ Vulcan sense of propriety. – Carmina
Edit: The original artist of this image is @Carrinth (that’s their username on Tumblr.) Thank you to @trekdreams for finding out.
People often misunderstand what the old saying about a cat having nine lives means. The cats prefer to keep it a secret, as most humans can’t be trusted with information so fragile and precious, but there are exceptions.
The merchant who shares his leftover fish. The young girl that hides littler after litter of newborn ones in her room until they find new homes. The old man with scars who still has enough kindness to open his shed to let them slip in from the rain. Boys, teenagers, mothers, warriors, brothers - some are trusted.
Exceptions, yes, few nowadays and rare, but honoured all the more.
So nine lives there are indeed. Each cat is born with them and no matter the time or place, they are lost easily.
This is where the story ends for most people.
But for those who are trusted, those who wake up one morning and find a weird taste in their mouth, the scent of a forest never touched by human hands in their nose, and a strange lingering touch of whiskers on their forehead - they know the truth.
Nine lives for this world, is what all our legends used to say.
You, friend of cats, know the ancient, almost forgotten sayings.
You know of cat eyes shining in the deepest night when they shouldn’t be able to. You know of cats staring past your ear, at that forbidden spot right by the frayed corner of your vision, and you fear that if you look, your cat won’t be able to stare it into submission anymore. You don’t look. The cat purrs. You’re safe.
The kittens have all their lives still. They do not look at the edgewalking beasts that whisper through their humans’ house. It will take time until they fall, hurt, learn.
The oldest cats know so much that a touch of their paw will make an entire village shudder. Their quiet voices cast spells. Let them roam. You cannot imagine the things that flee from them as they walk in silence.
Cat friend, you know it in your heart.
You know of the paths they walk that human feet can’t find.
You know of the nights they vanish and return with the scent of blood, earth and salt in their fur, and when your fingers touch their coat, a cold shiver awakes your skin.
Sometimes, they hear things. You don’t know what, but you know enough to let them sit in front of your house or room, paws tucked under, dark stare never leaving an invisible spot in the air.
And when you float between sleep and life, when you’re unlucky enough to claw at the edge of death before you’re ready to go…
Then maybe, friend of cats, you’ll feel a brush of fur along your legs. Maybe, just before you startle with awe in your heart and wake once more, the same pair of eyes that should sleep by your side winks at you from another world.
AU where Faramir went to Rivendell instead of Boromir?
Everything turns out okay.
That sounds flippant but imagine Denethor sending the right son to do the right job.
Faramir goes to the cool green glade of Elrond, where he speaks of dreams and waves, and the elves whisper that the blood of Numenor runs true in the House of Hurin; Boromir spends his time riding like hell between Ithilien and Osgiliath, speaking with men around smoky fires, embracing his captains and saying to them, take heart, gather your strength, these are the times which test a man’s soul and lift it to glory, but we will see dawn come, we will keep Gondor free.
Though they are cut from different cloth, this is something Boromir and Faramir have always shared–they are men deserving of leadership, they would be followed under the shadow of the East. Boromir aches for every one of his countrymen cut down, screams his defiance to the orc armies and rallies his arms; Faramir listens to the words of wisdom Aragorn offers, is gentle and kindly with the hobbits, greets Legolas in his mother tongue, offers Master Gimli praise.
Wandering with the Fellowship below the empty sky, Faramir looks up at Maethor, the Warrior constellation, and thinks of his brother, prays that he is well, that he is safe, that he is still a little pompous, stilted, honest.
Boromir spends another sleepless night playing with the chain at his neck, the small portraits of his mother and brother. (I cannot lose you too, I cannot–come back hale and whole, come back angry and proud and cunning and defiant of our father–)
Faramir has never known the weight of all Gondor on his shoulders, and so is not tempted by the power the Ring offers.
Boromir has always known the love of his father, and so never bears the scorn of Denethor when Osgiliath must be abandoned as too tenuous a position to hold.
The day that Faramir comes striding into the Citadel, a child and wizard at his heels, Boromir cries out with joy as he has not for more years than counting, and they nearly bruise one another with their embrace.
“You are almost skeletal, little brother,” Boromir laughs, though it is not true–Faramir looks touched with strangeness and greatness, as one whom the Witch-Queen of Lorien found favor in, whose nobility of form and face had ensnared the heart of the White Princess of Rohan.
“And you look at least two-stone heavier, elder brother,” Faramir says, though it is false, Boromir is hollowed out and worn thin, deep shadows beneath his eyes and hunger-starved cheeks; in a glance, Faramir knows he neither eats nor sleeps nor laughs, nor feels–and Faramir, wiser and older than when he left, can see the weight his brother has always carried, and how lightly–all the stone of Minas Tirith on his shoulders, and still–
Lena fills Kara’s office with flowers again the next time Kara saves her (it’s becoming a habit, honestly, in one way or another).
Kara, in an effort to establish that “that’s what friends are for!” and that Lena doesn’t have to do anything special for her, fills Lena’s office with flowers in return.
Lena refuses to accept this, and fills Kara’s office with more flowers.
A gesture that Kara then matches.
Lena, who is too grateful (competitive) to let Kara win this, but who also realizes that Kara is not actually rich, begins sending single flowers instead.
But, of course, these are not just ordinary roses or lilies. Unlike the “pretty rare” flowers she’d sent the first time -the plumerias Kara had said were beautiful- and the pretty but ordinary flowers she’d sent following that, Lena sends a single, exceedingly rare flower to Kara’s apartment.
To Lena’s surprise, Kara sends a different but also very rare flower to Lena’s apartment with the note “You may be rich, but I have connections. ;)” attached.
(Jess, who is wary of Lena’s connection to this reporter but is also very allergic to most flowers is just thankful that they aren’t coming to the office any more…)
They play this game for a while, trying to one-up each other in rarity.
Eventually, after growing tired of strange and expensive flowers, Lena opts for a simple sunflower with the note,
“Not rare, but it’s color reminded me of you. Like the sunflower, you are familiar and just a touch strange, all at once. But it also reminded me of myself. Because I, too, follow the sun and am made taller in it’s light.”
Lena leaves the fact that Kara is the sun in this metaphor unsaid.
The next week, when Kara would typically have a flower waiting on Lena’s doorstep, there isn’t one. Lena goes through a range of emotions, from fearing that she was too forward with her affection for Kara to wondering if Kara is alright. But when she opens the door to her apartment, she sees it, sitting on the living room table.
Lena walks over to the white, shining flower with it’s few, simple, curved petals and it’s red stem, and picks up Kara’s note.
“It’s not from this planet (if you couldn’t tell) and I’m not sure how to write the name but it means ‘The Shining Dark’. It grows in the freezing blackness of the planet Klumithea. Most of these flowers don’t glow due to the harsh conditions of the planet. All of them are survivors for enduring, but this one… this one is special.
It reminded me of you.
I hope you like it, because it will probably stay alive longer than we will.”
The next time Kara is expecting a flower on her doorstep, she finds Lena there instead, empty handed.
“Lena! No flower today?”
“No. Your last one was hard to beat.”
“I’m glad you liked it. It’s actually really interesting, though, how it grows. The-”
“-I have something else, though. Something you might actually like more?”
“Oh. Well. I’ve been trying to tell you, Lena, that’s not necessary. That’s what friends are f-”
But Lena kisses her.
She kisses her deeply and quickly, enough to electrify both of their consciousnesses, but then pulls apart from Kara just as quickly.
Kara’s face is flushed.
“Lena, that’s-” she stops herself, suddenly. Licks her lips.
Kara kisses her back, just as deeply. In seconds, they’re both out of breath.
When Kara pulls back, eyes locked with Lena’s and mind fried from electrocution, she continues her thought,
“That’s… not what friends are for.”
Lena laughs, “No. It’sreallynot.”
“Well,” Kara starts, letting go of her. She slumps against the wall and tilts her head at to look at Lena, whose heart is still racing.
Summary :Jungkook finds out you never had an orgasm before.
A/N :Probably one of the last drabbles I’ll write before my finals. Inspired by a dream, don’t ask. Feedback or a questions, everything is here !
“You’re lying.”, stated Jungkook, confidence dripping from his words. He had dropped his phone on his bed, one of his legs extended to the end of the matress, the other bended against his chest. You couldn’t see him, laying on your back, facing the ceiling of his room, but you could feel his eyes on you.
Rubbing your palms against your eyes, your groaned, wishing your best friend never started this conversation.
“Jungkook, I’m not lying okay.”, you sighed, leaving the back of your hands on your forehead. “Can we stop talking about this now ?”, you whined.
The boy stayed silent for a bit, and you thought that for once, just for once, he would let go. But that’s not knowing Jeon Jungkook.
“So you don’t know what an orgasm feels like ?”, he asked and you rolled your eyes, silently cursing your best friend.
It was just a normal conversation at first, until Jungkook started talking about his exploits. Again, it wasn’t a new thing, you and your best friend were comfortable talking about sex, but only if it was his sex life, because your sex life was inexistent. You never talked about it to Jungkook, but you thought he knew you were a virgin; apparently not.
“No.”, you answered, feeling heat rise on your cheeks, damn you just wanted to sink in the floor.
Silent filled the room again, before you felt the matress move. Crawling beside you, Jungkook layed on his stomach, supporting himself with his elbow. His eyes were still on you, but you couldn’t dare look at him, heart beating a bit too fast, talking about such an intimate thing was strange.
“Have you ever touched yourself ?”, purred Jungkook, and something immediately changed in the air. Was he really asking you this question ? He wasn’t going to let it slide, did he ?
“Y/N.”, called the boy, but his voice was still as loud as a whisper, as if he was afraid to talk louder, afraid to break something. Maybe he was afraid to break the thin confidence you were building up, finally answering.
“Yeah.”, but again, your voice was as quiet as his.
He moved again, your eyes finally catching his own. You would laugh at his way too serious face and furrowed eyebrows if you weren’t in such a situation. He released the bottom of his lips that he was unconsciously biting, getting a little bit closer to your body. One of his hand pressed on the matress beside you head, the sudden weight of his body making you groan.
“Jungkook, what the fuck are you doing ?”, you asked. You wanted him to hear the annoyance in your voice, but the question fell in a breath as his head dropped way to close to your own.
“Don’t you want to know how it feels like ?”, he mewled, stroking your hair. Your breath got caught, the sudden change of attitude leaving you stunned. Your breath got heavier, swallowing again as your throat got awfully dry.
A gasp left your lips as Jungkook’s head dropped, not waiting for an answer. His lips pressing a line of kisses down your neck, his right hand stroking your side, lifting your shirt up little by little.
It felt like seeing your best friend in a new light. Strangely, you didn’t feel repulsed, quite the contrary, your skin was growing hotter and all you wanted to do was to push the boy’s head down, forcing him to kiss further down, dying to feel his fingertips linger on your skin.
Your body relaxed as he kissed the spot between your neck and shoulder, but the feeling soon disappeared, a whine leaving your lips.
“Answer me.”, rasped Jungkook. He darted his tongue out, tracing the shape of your ear, his hand finally sneaking under your shirt, his thumb drawing circles above the hem of your underwear. “Do you wanna know ?”, he whispered, his hot breath ghosting over your ear.
“Yes.”, you gasped, catching your lower lips between your teeth. You were anxious in a way, he was your best friend after all. But stangely, you couldn’t see anyone else but Jungkook on top of you. You could feel the boy’s lips stretch in a smile against your ear, before attacking your neck again.
Your hand flew to his hair, your head thrown back, giving him more access.
“If something feels wrong, tell me and I’ll stop.”, he started, voice quiet as he looked into your eyes. And god, they were a shade darker, pupils blown wide, holding silent promises. “I want to make you feel good.”, he purred as you nodded after swallowing the built of saliva.
“Now, tell me. How do you touch yourself ?”, he husked, licking his lips.
Your throat went dry again, gasping for air. You didn’t know where that confidence came from, but you opened your mouth, carefully watching his reaction. “I tease myself throu-”, but you couldn’t finish your phrase, a gasp leaving your lips as Jungkook pressed a finger on your clit through the thin fabric of your panties.
“Like that ?”, he cooed, a cocky smile streching his lips. You nodded, eager to see and feel his next move. Jungkook ran his finger along your folds, feeling the wet patch starting to form. “God, you’re already wet.”, he quietly laughed, catching his lip in his teeth. You wanted to respond, but you got cut off by a sigh leaving your mouth as Jungkook pressed his fingertip on your clit, rubbing small circles, his lips parting.
“What do you do next ?”, he breathed, eyes glued on you, your face, your body, how you reacted to his touchs. You inhale, trying to collect yourself, “Take my panties off and start rubbing my clit.”, and you couldn’t even believe the words leaving your mouth. But the thought left your mind as the boy on top of you followed your orders, pulling the fabric to the side, the air hitting your heat, his fingertip pressing on the nub, and you immediately felt intoxicated.
He knew what he was doing, his digit moving in slow circles, applying the right amount of pressure, sending waves of pleasure through your body. Your hips accidently bucked, Jungkook’s finger pressing harder as a moan left your lips.
“More.”, choked, lightly tugging the boy hair. He looked up, cheeks and lips rosy, before moving lower, placing a single kiss above the hem of your underwear. He stopped his movements, a whine leaving your lips. Spreading your wetness, he added another finger, parting your folds before lightly pushing in your entrance. Closing your eyes, his other hand grabbed your hair, tugging at it, exposing your neck as his lips started attacking your skin again.
Capturing your skin between his teeth, he softly bit on it, fully pushing his finger in. Your exhaled, trying to adjust with the new feeling. Jungkook silently waited, sucking on your neck.
“Jungkook”, you breathed, signaling him to move, and he understood, his finger pumping in and out. His name fell in a broken moan tumbling from your lips, a hiss escaping from his own, his pants starting to grow tighter. You closed your eyes as he added another finger, deliciously stretching your walls.
“Look at me.” he growled, he movements growing faster, his thumb drawing forms on your clit. Opening your eyes, you attempted to keep eye contact, trying not to roll your eyes as he curled his fingers. Your head moved backwards as your hips moved against his hand, the one he wasn’t using grabbing your jaw.
Hair falling in front of his eyes, he licked his lips, before crashing them on yours. A gasp left your lips, it’s not like you never kissed him, but behind every kiss was the taste of alcohol, but not in this one. Moving against each other, your body melted against his soft lips and his touch, moaning against his mouth.
Your mind was fogged, you didn’t know were to focus, the kiss growing sloppy as he bit your bottom lip. On the other hand, Jungkook was trying his best to stay focused on you, and not buck his hips against the matress, his bulge now clearly visible. His thumb started rubbing your clit again, a loud moan coming from your lips as you started feeling a thigh knot in your stomach, your walls tightening around his digits.
“Are you gonna cum ?”, purred Jungkook agaisnt your lips, his fingers moving faster. You could only nodd, closing your eyes as you felt your climax approach.
“Fuck, come for me.”, growled Jungkook, his own breath uneven.
A mixture of curse words and your best friend’s name left your lips, holding tightly to his hair. Your eyes watered, gasping for air, your orgasm crashed over you like a wave, and the earth stopped spinning as a last loud moan left your lips.
Chest falling and rising with every irregular breath, your tried to process everything, blinking a few times. You caught Jungkook holding his fingers in front of his mouth, before wrapping his lips around his digits, the taste of your arousal on his tongue.
Head still spinning, you detailled the boy in front of you, before finally opening your mouth.
“Do you need help with that ?”, you asked, a small smile on your face as you gestured to his bulge.
Southern Motherf*cking Democratic Republicans (Jefferson x Madison x Burr x Reader)
Request: psst hey soulmate au with one of southern motherfucking democratic republicans? 😉
A/N: Hope ya like it anon! (and everyone else!) I apologize for taking so long, college’s been a b*tch
The universe was unfair.
It was said that everyone would meet
their soulmate at 18. And for the most part, it was true. The distinct tattoo
that everyone had would glow red and hurt whenever they bumped into the love of
their lives, and happily ever after. Of course, the ones that did not, their
tattoos would fade. It was usually due to their soulmate dying or their
soulmate giving up on love. It was not common, but it did happen. Those were
all the cases that you heard, so you wondered why it was so different for you.
You were 27, and it’s been almost
ten years since you were supposed to meet them. Ten years of wondering when
your tattoo would fade, ten years of hoping that you would just bump into them
while walking into the bathroom or buying groceries.
Summary: Due to the premature death of the King of your clan, his son, the alpha James Barnes, must assume his destiny and lead his people. As the tradition commands, he must choose some worthy omegas to make their his wives and with which he will ensure the subsistence of your clan. All the omega women are obliged to appear before their king, including you. Luckily for you, you would never be chosen… right?
Tags: at the end. ARE NOW CLOSED (sorry guys) I wrote them again one by one I really hope this time they work
A/N: So sorry guys for the delay, here I’m again! :)
Arrows whilst around your heads making you wince and yell every time you hear them nail in some surface. James is dragging you running through the trees, zigzagging and dodging the sharp arrows with difficulty. Your lungs hurt from the effort and the panic.
Suddenly James pushes you under a great hollowed root and covers your mouth with one hand. It is difficult to keep silence because of your laborious breathing and he presses your head against his chest trying to quell the little noises coming out of your mouth. You’re sure your heart is about to explode and you want to cry, who the hell is trying to kill you?