though i think she's moved now

Adult World (Jungkook smut)

Originally posted by nochuie

Description: You reveal to your friends that no one except yourself has ever made you cum. Jin in particular finds this interesting and dares you and Jungkook to go to the sex shop down the street and purchase a sex toy, for your own benefit of course.

Pairings: You x Jungkook, You x Taehyung, Jungkook x Taehyung (you know how truth and dare goes)

Basically: Taehyung is a cocky lil shit who features quite a lot. Jin is a mean lil shit and Jungkook is a very helpful lil shit ;)

Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff (so much smut, like damn this was hot to write)

This fic includes: A brief boy on boy scene, swearing, alcohol, sex toys, explicit smut

Word count: 6k

“You’ve got to be kidding!” Jin practically howls with laughter, doubling over himself and nearly falling off the couch with laughter. You’re about to tell him off but Jungkook beats you to it.

“Shut up. It’s not that big of a deal.”

Jin sits up straight, looking down at Jungkook, who sits next to you on the floor, opposite Jin. He wipes the tears from his eyes, his laughter finally dying down. “Hey, don’t you think you should talk to me with a bit more respect?” He prods teasingly, but Jungkook doesn’t seem in the mood, his previous lighthearted spirit vanishing upon Jin’s insensitive comment.

Jungkook’s tone is excitingly stern, but not rude, “Yeah, I’ll show more respect when you show more respect to Y/N.”

You laugh, “Don’t worry about me, Jungkook. I don’t think I can take Jin very seriously, not when I highly doubt he’d even know how to make me or any other girl cum.”

The circle of friends in Taehyung and Jungkook’s apartment erupt into comical ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’.

“You got damn burned!” Jimin says, leaning over the bottles in the center of your various seated positions to high five you.

Keep reading

You’re His Ex Girlfriend and You See His New Girlfriend Wearing Your T-Shirt: Part 4

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Masterlist linked in bio

Harry watches the wall clock as he waits patiently on his couch, counting the minutes until Y/n finally wakes up.

He’s barely slept all night, feeling a mix of anxiousness and misery as he thought of all the outcomes that could happen today. He also found himself looking at Y/n all night, watching her in her calmest state of mind and feeling a sense of tranquility as he sees her in her most beautiful form.

He could never get tired of it—admiring her in her sleep. But as the morning passed and the late afternoon started approaching, Harry didn’t know what the hell was going on.

She was still asleep, crashed on top of him as snores raided her mouth and the only movement being the slight rise and fall of her chest against his. He started to worry, solely for the fact that she slept at a completely reasonable time last night and was known to be an early riser. And since he barely got a blink of sleep, he knows she didn’t wake up for a second during the night.

At first, when it hit 12 hours since she’d fallen asleep, he tried to brush hair out of her face in an attempt to wake her from her slumber. Nothing came to his avail, however, when all he got was a slight shake of her head and a small smacking of her lips.

When the afternoon started to approach, he started to move his fingertips along her back and neck. But again, nothing; just a slight groan and a movement of her hips to get away from the sensation.

He gave up after that, helpless in disturbing her sleep and trying to get some sort of reassurance in the midst of his worrying. He really needed something, because his nerves were getting the best of him and he needed to rid the anxiety building inside of him.

That’s when he decided to call Gabby.

“She fell asleep at around 10:00 last night and it’s nearly 2:00 now. She’s barely moved, she’s still right on top of me and doesn’t even flinch when I turn. I’m really worried.”

Harry lifts his hand to her hair, softly brushing the knots out with his fingers, waiting to see if there’s any sudden movement. But there’s nothing, just the movements of her soft breath and the occasional repositioning of her neck.

“She’s barely slept in months, Harry. She’s not fully comfortable here, no matter how much she tries to tell me she is. There are nights she doesn’t sleep at all. She’s completely incapable of being alone anymore, she’s always thinking and it doesn’t let her calm down in the slightest, you know? And mixed with everything that happened last night, she’s probably extremely exhausted. Just let her get her sleep, yeah? She really needs it, trust me. Besides, you being there is helping her in the most.”

He looks down at Y/n, where her cheek is pressed against his chest as her eyes are closed in a dream. She looks most beautiful this way. It’s the peaceful, angelic side of her that he always remember her being.

She looks safe, too—away from any potential hurting and pressed so close against him as if he were the protector of her heart. He almost laughs at the irony of it all, how she’s the exact opposite of peaceful and nowhere near protected from any harm—especially in his arms.

And there’s a part of him that wishes he could stay in this moment forever, holding her to him as he watches her in her must vulnerable state. She doesn’t push him away, or tell him to stop staring at her, or cry because he still can’t figure out what to say. She’s oblivious to his admiration, and the second she regains consciousness in her reality, he knows this moment can’t last much longer, no matter how badly he wants it to.

“Yeah, of course I’ll let her sleep. You think I can move from underneath her without waking her? Might make her some food, can feel her stomach growl.”

“Yes, please make her something. She gets really upset sometimes and forgets to eat. They’ll be days I have to remind her. She really needs you to provide for her right now, more than anything. She shouldn’t wake up, though.”

It doesn’t take much convincing to get Harry up from the couch. Although it was a bit of a struggle to maneuver himself from underneath Y/n’s body and out of her tight hold on him—especially between her occasional whimpers and groans from the sudden movements—he managed to do so without waking her up too much.

He decides to make her her favorite breakfast, as well. He knows it won’t distract her from the problems they have to face, but it’s something—it’s something as opposed to all the nothingness he’s been giving her.

It doesn’t take much longer than half an hour before Y/n finally wakes up from her slumber. She’s confused upon her awakening, groggy and the remaining amount of exhaustion still present in her body.

She’s comforted, though, when she acknowledges that she’s back home with the aroma of breakfast filling the air. It reminds her of old times—mornings of her anniversaries with Harry and mornings of their birthdays or purposeful events. It’s everything that she’s missed and it brings a soft smile to her face. Only for a second, though.

“Afternoon.” He smiles softly, eyes watching her every movement as she leans against the doorway of the kitchen.

In any other circumstance, he would have greeted her with a proper kiss and held her against him for a while; but as he observes her red eyes, her tear-stained cheeks, and her overall broken down structure, he knows not to overstep his boundaries.

Y/n frowns, watching what would normally be the most heartwarming sight of her life—Harry cooking in the kitchen of their home, a smile on his face while the sun peeks through the windows—but is now only seeing it as something that could have been.

She wonders if this is how he spent his mornings with Jessica.

He frowns slightly, too, when he sees her in the way she is now. There’s absolutely no life to her. He can tell that the Y/n that he knew is long gone—now replaced by a much more miserable soul. It almost brings tears to his eyes, seeing how much damage and destruction he’s caused onto her. He feels as if he’s taken away Y/n’s heart entirely, only leaving her to suffer through the loss.

“I, uh—" he mutters softly, realizing that he’s been staring at her for longer than he’s probably supposed to, “I made you some chocolate chip pancakes. I know it’s a little after lunch time but Gabby told me you haven’t been eating as much and well, I kind of figured I’d make you something I know you can’t resist.”

She wants to appreciate the gesture, she does. She wishes that she could look past the gloomy side of the situation, and instead focus on the fact they’re together again. Even if it’s the bare minimum—where Harry does all the speaking while she just listens with a stupid pout on her face—there’s a reflection of what their relationship was like before their time apart, and she feels as if it should be making her feel something other than sick to her stomach.

But she just can’t, no matter how hard she tries. She can’t quite understand how he’s doing so well. Not a part of him resembles her ruined self. He’s so put together, even after everything that’s happened. He’s still alive, which is almost the exact opposite of how she feels; and she can’t help but to wonder if he ever felt the way she did—broken and helpless. She wonders if he even cared.

And if there’s anything that can make her feel worse than she already does, it’s if Harry continues to pity her—to treat her like a charity case when he was the reason for all of this. He should be the one sulking from his mistakes, on his knees begging for mercy, but it’s her. She’s suffering the pain for the both of them and she doesn’t know how much longer she can bare it.

“Is this how it’s going to be?” She whispers, tears flowing from her eyes and she’s genuinely surprised that there’s still some left to cry.

Harry’s heart stops as he watches her break again. He doesn’t want to witness her in that form again, he doesn’t even know if he can; and imagining the pain that must be bursting through her veins is only making this harder for him.

“You’re just going to pretend like everything is okay? While I stand here, practically begging you to say something to me about all this, you just continue to show off how perfectly fine you are?”

“What?” He asks, nearly dumbfounded by her accusations. “No, baby. That’s not—no.“

He doesn’t know exactly where all this came from, considering there isn’t any part of him that’s feeling any sort of sanity. He’s been suffering, too, no matter how much he tries to hide it for her sake. The masking his hurt has been hiding under has been wearing thin over the past couple of weeks, but he couldn’t bring himself to show her how much this affected him.

He was always the one to stay strong for the both of them. No matter what came their way, he was always the one to bottle up all of his emotions and get them through whatever it was bringing them down. He couldn’t break, especially not in front of her. He has to be the one to mend them back together; he doesn’t have a choice, considering he was the one who broke it up in the first place.

“You think I’m fine? You actually think I’m okay with all this? You haven’t even—you haven’t even seen me before last night, and even then I was a wreck. Y/n, how could you even think like that?”

“Look at you!” She yells, eyes widened and teeth clenched as she speaks. Her hands are at her head, pressing at her temples in complete hysteria and despair. “All fucking pretty and perfect! I don’t see anything wrong with you, like there’s nothing gripping at your throat or feeding your insides with the guilt that should be eating you fucking alive right now!”


“And look at me! Just take a goddamn look at me and how fucked up I am! Do you see what the problem is? Do you see how none of this is fair to me? Fuck you and fuck your precious happiness, and fuck your selfish decisions and just fuck you, Harry! Fuck you!

Her voice is harsh and loud enough to nearly echo from the walls. The cries and whimpers haven’t stopped, either, and there’s a certain type of tension building between them that’s nearly sucking the air from their throats.

But she’s not stopping, not yet. She still has so much to say and nothing is getting in her way, not now.

“How did it feel, Harry?! How did it feel to love on some other woman while your ex-girlfriend was alone and breaking on her bed?! Was it nice?! How did it feel?!”

Harry’s jaw clenches once the words leave her mouth, and his hands are balling to fists at the side of his thighs. He’s frustrated—frustrated because she’s so blinded by her own pain that she hasn’t eve acknowledged his. And the way she’s making it sound—like he doesn’t love her, like he doesn’t care—almost makes him throw up.

As much as he fucked up, he never imagined to be perceived as such a villain. She’s looking down on him, digging into his insecurities and accusing him of being a man he knows he’ll never be capable of being, and he doesn’t like it one bit. As much as he had done wrong, he never found pleasure in her pain and he doesn’t even want to think about how that thought processed through her brain.

“Are you being serious right now? You really need to tell me this isn’t some sort of sick joke.”

Her eyes narrow up at him, and for the first time since he’s seen her, she starts to laugh.

It’s a habit she’s obtained whenever she tries to hold back all the anger boiling inside of her. It’s a rare occasion, considering she never really gets mad, especially at him. But she’s on the edge of complete rage, and she feels it building inside of her.

She still has tears falling from her eyes, and they’re both unsure whether it’s from the laughter, the pain, the anger, or all three of them.

“You think I’m joking? You want to hear a real joke, Harry? You saw me. You saw me at the grocery store, you saw me looking at Jessica wearing our shirt and you didn’t do anything! You did absolutely nothing, you just fucking stood there and watched me fall apart. What kind of twisted shit was that, Harry? Did it make you feel good about yourself? Or was it a nice image to look back on while you fucked Jessica the following night?”

All his frustration subsided when her voice started to crack and shake between her words. Her emotions are scattered, along with his, but he can’t help but feel an aching in his chest when he sees how helpless she looks.

Looking back at it, Y/n gets the same exact feeling she did that morning—betrayed, broken, and completely hated. There is no other explanation for it. He had to have hated her, for whatever reason it may be, it’s the only thing that makes sense.

The Harry that loved her would never leave her to fend for herself. He wasn’t the same man she remembered him being. The kindhearted, selfless, loving man she fell in love with was not the man she came to contact with—standing with a mysterious girl, showing her off in the t-shirt that meant everything to him and Y/n.

He had to have hated her.

“Is that—“ his voice cracks, and he has to swallow the lump building in his throat before he continues to speak, “Is that what you think? That I just watched because I’m heartless?”

She sighs, shaking her head softly. She crosses her arms at her chest, tucking her hands beneath them as her eyes drift away from his.

She never thought he was heartless, but there must have been something he had against her for him to not say anything to her. She deserved an explanation, or even a half-assed apology at the slightest. But she got nothing. All she got silence and heartbreak and everything inside of her knew that she didn’t deserve it.

There had to have been something.

“No, I just—I never felt so hated before. It was like—like you found some sort of comfort in watching me suffer. You never did that, Harry. You never did that to me, not in all the years that I’ve known you and knowing that you didn’t want me anymore was like all the life was sucked out of me all at once.”

She closes her eyes as she sobs, clutching the fabric of her shirt in her hands right where her heart is.

“Just imagine feeling your heart stop beating and your lungs collapsing all at once. I thought you hated me, Harry. Nothing was worse than feeling that, nothing.”

An inhumane sound emits from Harry’s chest—something between a sob and a growl—a sound she’s never heard before and it’s utterly pitiful.

He’s never thought of it in that way. The thought of Y/n thinking he’s hated her never crossed his mind, always just assuming that she was so upset because Jessica crept her way into his life. But the more he thinks about it, all the more it makes sense.

When he saw Dan wearing Harry’s ring, all the hope that Y/n was ever going to love him again was ripped away from him. The feeling of betrayal and heartbreak was so overwhelming because while he was suffering from the loss of her, she was finding comfort in somebody else and nothing brought him more pain than thinking she didn’t love him anymore.

And that’s exactly what he did to her. She was waiting for him—waiting for him to come back and fight for their relationship. She was alone and hurt all throughout the nights while he was finding pleasure in another woman to get him through the pain.

He’s put her through so much that she didn’t deserve, and he doesn’t know how he can live with himself for it.

He whimpers, tentatively reaching out for the hand that’s decorated with his rose ring, and slowly brings her against his chest. She buries her face in his t-shirt as she weeps out the rest of her tears, tugging at the back of his t-shirt in agony.

“No, baby. No. Please don’t ever think that. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t know what to say, and everything that I wanted to say was getting so scrambled inside of my brain that I couldn’t even understand what was happening. There were so many things, my love. There were so many things I wanted to say to you but I just couldn’t, and it’ll be something I have to live with for the rest of my life.”

He presses a kiss to the top of her head, squeezing her a little tighter in his arms as he brushes out her hair between his fingers.

She feels his tears at the top of her head, but she doesn’t pay any attention to it. All she can wrap her head around is that Harry’s holding her again, shielding her from any other hurting that could get to her. And as much as she does want to push him away, she can’t, because she can finally fucking breathe again.

“And I’m so sorry, Y/n. I’m so sorry for all of this. I could never hate you, my love. I love you so goddamn much, you have to believe me. You don’t deserve this pain, sweetheart. I’ll do whatever it takes to mend you, okay? If you give me the chance, I’ll take the time to fix you. You just have to work with me.”

She nods against his chest, pushing him away from her a little bit so that she can look at him in the eyes. They’re red and soaked with tears, but she’s missed them all too much and they still make her weak in the knees.

“This will be a slow process, do you understand me? There’s a lot of lost trust and a lot of work that needs to be done when it comes to our relationship. I’m not risking this again, so we’re taking this slowly. I’ll stay at Gabby’s for another few weeks until I can fully trust you again. You’re not pulling that shit on me where you call Jessica when you’re lonely, you hear me? You call me. We’re in this together and we’re in this for a long time, but we have to do this my way.”

He nods feverishly, closing his eyes as he does so. His fingers dig into her back as he exhales strongly, almost as if releasing a breath he’s been holding in.

“We’ll go at your pace, sweetheart, I promise.”

She smiles softly—a true, heartwarming smile that Harry swears he could look at for the rest of his life. It somehow mends the ache in his chest and he starts to cry from happiness, this time, and he’s never been so relieved in his life.

“We’re really doing this, huh?” She giggles, running her fingertips along his back. “We’re really starting this all over again?“

He smiles down at her, admiring the woman he’s loved with every bit of his heart. She’s never looked so goddamn perfect, either, in this moment of complete serendipity.

“Yeah, we are.”

There’s a dog on her balcony.

No, that can’t be right. Her office is on the 33rd floor, and the dog would have had to travel up all those floors past 18 different layers of security, walk right past her, and somehow unlock open close and then relock her balcony door without anyone noticing. So no, that high pitch bark that just sounded behind her must be something else. There is no actual way that there’s a dog on her balcony right now.

A loud yip followed by claws scrambling against the glass wall behind her suggests otherwise.

Slowly, Lena allows herself to turn around annnnddd yep. There is definitely a dog. Her first thought - after realizing the impossible has once again happened to her - is that that is one tiny sounding bark for such a huge animal. And it is huge, standing on its hind legs nearly as tall as her, it’s paws and drooping tongue pressed to the glass. As if sensing her thoughts the dog barks again, high pitched and excited. It obviously wants to come in.

Lena can see the muscles flexing in its limbs and figures an animal that size could get in with or without her help, so she might as well be proactive about it. The balcony shakes from the force of the dog’s tail smacking the ground faster and faster, its excitement growing with every step towards it Lena takes. The entire floor is shaking now as she reaches the door, pausing for a moment to stare at what may be about to kill her. The dog just presses its face to the glass, as if it’s trying to get as close as it can, and Lena unlatches the lock just as tiny cracks begin to snake out from where the dog’s nails dig in.

All the air is forcefully head-butted out of her lungs as the dog tackles her, knocking her to the ground. She feels it’s massive jaw opening against her own and she clenches up in anticipation of the bite. Imagine her surprise, then, when she’s instead treated to the absolute slimiest tongue imaginable roughly dragging across her face. It gets a solid four swipes in before she can fully get her arms up between them, trying to shield herself from the goop that’s dribbling excitedly onto her face. She’s pretty sure a puddle is forming around her.

The dog opts then to push its head again at her, pressing it into her hands and chest and face with a desperate sort of enthusiasm. Hesitantly, she scratches behind its ear.

“Good boy,” she says, and is met with another yip and sloppy tongue. A few more careful pets end with the dog sprawled out completely on top of her, pressing its face into the curve of her neck, unmoving if not for the continuous room-shaking thump of its tail.

Lena’s not sure how long she lays like that, a monster of fur and muscles pressing her down with its enthusiastic affection into an ever growing puddle of sloop. She does know when Kara arrives, though, because the dog finally moves. His head perks up and before she can even think to say something the dog is bounding towards the now open door and tackling Kara.

Lena scrambles up then with a shout of warning, but Kara is fine. In fact, the beast has jumped up on its hind legs to lick at her face with abandon, and Kara’s just laughing!

“Krypto,” she says, “there you are!”

Kara’s glasses are practically ripped from her face by the force of licks raining down on her.

“Lena, where did you find him? This is that dog I was telling you about, my new rescue!”

Lena has to forcefully pry her clothes from the floor, the saliva puddle sticking like duct tape. Kara looks so beautiful when she’s happy.

“I found him in the park,” she says, after watching their reunited love fest for a moment more. Krypto - seemingly remembering her now - turns to lunge back at her but is yanked back by Kara’s firm grip. The dog’s claws scramble against the floor as he fights her grip but Kara holds firm like there’s barely any resistance at all. Lena’s arms ache from their harsh collision with the floor.

So many things are beginning to make sense now.

“Lena, I can’t believe it. I’ve been so worried about him. Thank you so much for bringing him here.”

There are happy tears in her eyes and Lena really can’t do anything but sigh in defeat.

“Of course, Kara. You know I’d do anything for you.”

anonymous asked:

What are we supposed to make of Dany's reaction when Jon calls her his queen? Is it like shock that he'd bend the knee or confirmation he loves her or what? Really having trouble deciphering that moment.

I think it’s a little of both. I don’t think she wants him to bend the knee anymore. She already promised her help without that declaration. Losing Viserion and actually feeling what it would mean to lose Jon has rocked her to her foundations. People are saying she didn’t react but I think it was shock, which is fitting for the scenario. We are probably going to see a Dany with different goals and intentions from here on.

Also, I think in this moment she has new respect for Jon. She saw him fighting, protecting his men, his bravery in volunteering for the mission even if she thought it was foolish. She’s seen his scars and realizes that Davos was telling the truth about him. So I feel pretty sure that even though she isn’t ready to say it yet, she loves him. We’ve already seen her admiring him in past episodes. Touching Drogon was huge. And now she also knows he was right all along about the WW. There have definitely been time skips so she’s known Jon for months and that means simply that she knows Jon. And let’s be real. To know Jon Snow is to love Jon Snow. 

In light of all this Dany is probably ashamed for having doubted him and so when he called her his queen I think she’s so moved because even though she is in a really vulnerable place where she might not even have faith in herself (she was wrong to doubt Jon, probably feels partially responsible for Viserion’s death, has been reminded twice that she can never have a child), Jon just declared his faith in her

That’s why her sort of sobbing and saying, “I hope I deserve it,” was so powerful to me. People call Dany arrogant and entitled. I saw none of that in this scene. She is shaken and unsure of everything and instead of criticizing her Jon has seen her courage and her compassion. It means the world to her that he believes in her.

And I do think his feelings were obvious in addition to the political or symbolic significance of him swearing fealty. I mean he was looking at her so tenderly god it just killed me. And he didn’t want to let her go when she tried to pull away. So I also believe that in light of Tyrion’s words to her that Jon is in love with her, she’s starting to realize that might be true. 

But we’ve been given every reason to believe that she feels a little unworthy of that love right now. So I think the emotional weight of it along with her grief and guilt was too much and that’s why she left when she did :(


Marichat Day 29: The Argument

“I’m not talking about this anymore, Chat,” Marinette grumbled, scooting back in her bed and opening her laptop.

Chat Noir stopped his pacing to stare back at her. “We’ve hardly talked at all!”

“This doesn’t have anything to do with you. We’re friends so I wanted you to know, but that’s as far as it goes.”

“Who is he?”

“That’s not important.”

“Not important?! Excuse me, Princess, but contrary to your belief, the identity of whatever bastard knocked you up is actually very important to me!”

Marinette flinched. “It was a one-time thing, a mistake.” She unconsciously cupped her still flat stomach. “Look, I appreciate that you care, but I’m going to be okay, really.”

“A-are you keeping it?”

“Yes,” she replied immediately. “My job has a great maternity package and Papa and Maman have already offered to help me. They’re begging me to move back in with them, but I don’t think I could do it. I like my apartment.” She glanced around the room. “I guess I’ll need to figure out a place to make a nursery though.”

Chat Noir slumped down on the edge of the bed. “How are you so calm about this?”

“I’m only calm right now. Believe me, you’ve missed quite a few freak outs over the past couple of weeks.” She gave a little chuckle. 

“Why was it a mistake?” he asked quietly.


“The guy…the one who did this to you, why was it a mistake?”

“Oh,” Marinette looked down at her lap. “Uh, he’s an old friend. A mutual friend had a party last month to celebrate her new job and everyone was drinking and it had been a rough week so I was drinking a bit more than usual.” She sighed. “Adrien was there and I’ve always liked him and one thing led to another and, well…” She shrugged with a sad smile.

“But you’re going to tell him.”

“I don’t think so,” she said with a shake of her head. “He’s got this crazy, important life and he’s kind of famous and…and it isn’t like we’re dating, you know?”

“That’s bullshit,” Chat Noir growled.

Marinette blinked wide eyes at him. “Excuse me?”

“You have to tell him, Marinette. That’s his baby too. He would want to know. He would…he would want to be with you,” he finished, his voice cracking.


“You can’t just keep this a secret! This isn’t fair. I’ve been in love with you for years and then for it to happen like this…” A fine tremble ran up his spine. He suddenly turned, pushing her computer out of her lap and burying his face against her stomach. “I’m so sorry, Marinette. I’m so, so sorry,” he cried. “Please forgive me, please, please, please…”

Marinette’s hands fluttered above his head, unsure of what to do. Had he just confessed to loving her? “Chat? Chat! Kitty, please look at me.” 

He blinked up at her, tears spilling down his mask. “Marry me,” he begged. “Please.”

“What?! Chat, please just–”

“Damn it,” he swore, shaking his head. “I’ve made such a mess of this. Plagg, claws in.”

Title: meant to be something
Summary: Fate brought them together again in the form of conjoined apartments.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Naruto.
Prompt: Something More
Rating: T or T+ (just for that little nsfwish smidge in there)
A/N: So some time ago my friend @mika213 brought this sort of situation up for when Sasuke would come back from his road of redemption… and this prompt just immediately reminded me of it. Could you imagine??


“S-Sasuke-kun? What are you doing here?”

Blinking, Sasuke’s hand fell from the doorknob he’d only just reached for, turning to his side to meet the unexpected sight of his long-time pink haired teammate—whom he hadn’t really gotten the chance to see much of since she’d welcomed him back from his two-year journey a few days prior. His brows furrowed lightly.

“…I live here.”

Sakura’s mouth parted at this, eyes snapping wide open. “What, really?” she exclaimed, brows shooting up high. “Since when?”

“Four days ago,” he replies without much delay, frowning all the while. Then, he blinked again, understanding finally dawning on him. “You live here too?”

A slight blush tainted her cheeks at that. “Yeah,” Sakura replied, moving to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. She smiled at him, bright, though a little shy. “I’ve been here for the past three years. And I guess I’m… also your new neighbor, apparently.”

Keep reading

“You’re the Mother of all Monsters.” The woman screams clutching her child close, so consumed in her grief she doesn’t see that the body in her hands has long since taken his last breath. ‘Yes.’ she agrees, ‘A monster I am.’ She glances at the sky and smiles slightly. Mother or Father the term is not true, because she didn’t make herself this way. ‘That honor was you.’ she says to the sky. Lilith, Mother of Monsters.

“What was Eden like?” One child asks as she leads them in their descent. She remembers Adam, the sting of rejection a slap on his face. She closes her eyes, and she can remember how menacing the garden had seemed. There were thorns in the bushes and snakes in the trees. “Cold.” She answers, “Cold and cruel.”

“Why do you have to take her?” The same line over and over, each time from a different source. “You think I chose to be this way?” She angrily barks out. The other women doesn’t comprehend, sobbing a single line, the words stinging like a holy verse. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. She takes her by the shoulders. “You think there is such a thing as fair.” She shakes her with every word, “that I rob you of your child, like I was robbed of my own?” The body drops from her hand, as the fury leaves her. “I was robbed too.”

“How did you become this way?” The mother of a sick child asks. She’s hoping for peace for her son, happiness free of illness that only Death can grant. “I refused a man.” Her eyebrow is raised. “I refused a man, and was made a demon for it.” It is dark, and in the dark she can remember the sharp cuts of the wind as she was pushed down. She can remember the cracks of her bones when she finally reached the ground, and how she lay there in a heap for weeks unable to move and barely able to breathe. “I refused to be a submissive wife, a senseless twit.” A twisted smile graces her lips. “You see the steps to Heaven are painted red. There’s rules you have to follow; otherwise you might as well be dead.”

“Do you miss the stars?” Adam asks when they pass each other on Earth. She glances to the sky and for a moment misses the taste of salvation, and the music that holy God damn music. “Do you miss Eve?” She bites back instead. To ache and crave for the impossible is a waste of her time. The naivety Adam is drenched in doesn’t suit her, though he has the decency to look guilty now. “What was it like for you?” he asks, avoiding the question, “What was it like when you fell?” She licks her lips and doesn’t miss how his eyes trail her tongue. “Lonely.”

“Did you love Him?” Eve asks after seeking her out. She thinks about the burns on her skin and the cuts along her back. Eve edges closer, her fingers move like ghosts down her arms. “I did.” She nods, “I loved him right until he pushed me off the edge.” Eve cries like the child she is. “Then why?” Why. Why. Why. Her lungs shake as the sigh tumbles from her mouth. “Because He didn’t love us as much as we loved him.”

Lilith  // L.H.Z


I commissioned @marshiyan for a reversal of The Kiss™, and this is the beautiful finished product! 

Accompanying little ficlet behind the cut!

Title: the kiss
Series: Voltron: Defender of the Universe (1984)
Pairing: Lance McClain/Allura
Word count: 1778
Summary: Keith doesn’t know what he did to deserve this, Pidge and Hunk are entertained, Allura is eternally patient, and Lance just wants to know what fond means. 
Notes: Apologies to those who were waiting on the fanart because I insisted on writing this for it. AO3 link.

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No Regrets

An Adrienette one-shot

“Girl, why are you in such a rush?” Alya asked, watching her best friend gather her things in a hurry.

“I forgot about something!” Marinette fretted, dropping her bag in the process. Which caused all the things she’d gathered to spill out.  “Shoot,” she muttered under her breath, “I’m such a klutz!”

“Whoa, girl, relax.  What could you have forgotten about that can cause this much panic?  I haven’t seen you this scatter-brained since high school!” Alya astonished, joining Marinette on the ground to help her clean up.

Marinette sighed, putting the final piece in her bag again and looked at Alya.  They were both knelt down on the floor and Marinette blew a piece of hair from her face.  “I—Well… I’m meeting Adrien.”

Alya gave her a deadpanned look.  “With whom you’re married to… what’s the big deal about meeting with your husband?” she asked.

“It’s not the meeting with him part, it’s just—ya know.  We’re looking for a house… and… I dunno,” Marinette dug through her bag for her keys, mumbling something about needing a brighter keychain.  

Alya looked at the table they had been sitting at to see her friend’s keys lying there.  She picked them up and jingled them in front of Marinette’s distracted face.  “Here,” she said, hearing Marinette utter out a “Thank you.”  Alya crossed her arms and stared curiously at her friend.  “What’s the big deal?  You’re looking for a house.  Something every married couple does… Haven’t you dreamed about this for like, your whole life, or something?” Alya asked.

Marinette shrugged and looked away from her friend, “Well, I mean, yeah.  But, like, it’s still a little soon, isn’t it?”

Alya furrowed her brows, “You’ve been married for 3 months.  So no, it’s not ‘too soon.’  Getting a house is good.  You’ve been crashing in his mouse-sized apartment, which, if I do recall, doesn’t allow for a roommate.”

Marinette bit her fingers, “Yeah, we’ve been ignoring the calls about that…”

“What’s the real issue here?” Alya asked, reaching out for Marinette’s shoulder, “Are you alright?”

Marinette slid from her grasp, looking worriedly at her phone.  “Y-you’re probably right!  I’m just crazy.  This is Adrien,” she said as she lifted her phone, “Gotta take it!”

Alya watched her friend go with a wild expression, “Oh…kay… see ya later, then?”

Marinette pushed the coffee shop door open with her shoulder, holding her phone in one hand and her drink in the other.  “Hey, hon,” she said, “Yeah, I’m on my way.  No, I didn’t forget, I’m just running a bit late.  Yeah, bad traffic.  Uh huh.  Okay.  Yup, see you in a few.  I love you too.  Bye.”  She hung up and stuffed her phone in her purse, grabbing her keys and hopping into her car.  

“Alya’s right,” she told herself, “This is good.”


“Okay, on to house number three!” Adrien said enthusiastically, buckling up his seat-belt.  “That last one was cool, though, huh?  What did you think, Mari?  You were pretty quiet in there…”  He looked over at his wife to see her staring numbly out the window.  “Marinette?”

She blinked and turned to him, looking dazed, “I’m sorry, I was zoned out.  What?” She asked.

Adrien frowned, “I asked if you were okay,” he said, reaching out to touch her forehead.  “Are you sick?  Do you have a fever?  Maybe we should go home…”

“Oh no, I’m not sick,” Marinette brushed him off.  “Tired is all.”

“You sure?” he asked.

“Positive,” she smiled at him.

“Alright.  So, what’d you think of the house?” he asked.

“It was okay,” she said.  “It’s expensive, though.”

Adrien shrugged, “Well, money’s not an issue, so don’t pay attention to the price tag, okay?  We’ll get whatever we need and whatever works.”

Marinette looked at her husband with a clumsy smile, “The money you got from your father is suppose to be for retirement, isn’t it?  That was your plan, right?”

Adrien looked at her with a gentle smile before looking back at the road, “Plans can change.”

Anxiety squeezed Marinette’s chest, “You should save it.”

“Mari, don’t worry.  Even if we went all in and bought the whole house now, I’d still have plenty left over.  Besides, I’m gonna put what we don’t spend in a retirement plan.”  He reached out to touch her knee gently, “Your worried, and it isn’t about the money…”

“I’m not worried, it’s just an expensive house—“

“Marinette, what’s wrong?” he came to a stop at a street light.  

“Nothing,” she said, crossing her arms stubbornly.

“Come on, Mari, what’s eating at you?” He pushed.

She nodded towards the windshield of the car, “The light’s green.”

He huffed, “I’m not going until you tell me what’s wrong.”

“Adrien you can’t—there’s people behind us,” she turned around in her seat to see a frustrated wave from the car behind them followed by a honk.  “Adrien, seriously!  Go!”

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong.  Normally I wouldn’t push because I don’t need to know sometimes, but this is clearly about us, and that I should know.  So what’s wrong?” He pushed the car into park to prove his point.

“Adrien, we don’t have time—“

“Are you having regrets?” he blurted out, his voice calm.  Marinette knew this voice, but she’d never personally experienced it.  It was his business voice.  The voice he used at professional parties, or conversations with co-workers.  It was his father’s voice.

“…Regrets?” She repeated numbly, looking him in the eye.  The angry honks and yells began to fade out.

He nodded, “Yeah, regrets.  About us,” his eyes and face stoic; he was like a wall.  But Marinette could see clearly behind it.  He was hurt.

“N-no!  No, of course not!  I could never regret this,” she gestured between them.  “It’s just…”


“Will you?” she ask carefully.  Looking away from him.

“Will I what?” He asked, tilting his head.  His once calm voice became lathered in frustrated confusion.  A car swerved around them, giving them a pleasant curse and honk as he passed, followed by more cars.

“Will you regret this?” she asked.  He didn’t respond.  “Maybe not now, and maybe not next year or the year after that, but… maybe in ten years.  When I’m older, and less exciting.  Maybe you’ll look back at it all and realize that it was when you decided to marry me that things started to go wrong.  That, in ten years you’ll regret loving me and how you bought a fancy house and used up your money,” she hadn’t noticed until now, but she was crying.  She could tell because a tear had fallen onto her hand.  “After all, you said it yourself!  Plans change, and I don’t want you to regret this—“

She felt large hands envelop her own small ones.  She didn’t dare look up to see the man who was holding them though.  She couldn’t.  

“Hey,” he said gently, leaning over to kiss her wet cheek.  “I could never regret this,” he said, but she looked unconvinced, offering him a lazy shrug and a mumbled, “Maybe.”

“I love you,” he said, baffled.  She didn’t move.  He huffed, thinking of what to say.  “Now, if I remember correctly,” he began, “I had a crush on you first,” he said.

“You had a crush on Ladybug, not Marinette,” she pointed out.

“And you had a crush on a model, not Chat Noir,” he countered.  “I agree, things can change.  We changed, but it was for the better, right?”  


“For better or worse,” he repeated their wedding vows.  “Now, I take that seriously.  Even if there comes a ‘worse,’ I’ll never regret it.  Because I love you.  We chose each other.”  He gently pulled her chin to look her in the eyes.  “The only thing I could ever regret would be not marrying you.  To not share a life with you.  To have kids and grow old with you.”

She blinked and smiled at him, “Kids?” she asked.

“Kids,” he nodded, glad she was smiling.  “I’m serious, Mari.  About you.  About this.”

She leaned in to kiss him.  Soft and sweet, short and simple.  “Thank you,” she mumbled.  

He kissed her nose and leaned back.  “But,” he said, putting their car back in drive and looking to see the light had turned red again.  “If Nino confesses his love to me, I may just run into the sunset with him,” he said, acting serious.

“Oh my gosh,” Marinette shoved him with a laugh, “You’re a dork.”

“But you love me,” he winked at her.

“Maybe…” she rolled her eyes playfully.

“And I love you.”

“Yeah,” she smiled.

Read the rest of my one shots here!

I’m almost too lazy to make this post because God it’s just so self explanatory but my loyalty to Temari runs too deep so here goes: 

They did exactly what I called they were gonna do and made her an over aggressive nagging house wive. This is why I complained over and over again three years ago when I saw they had moved her to Konoha because I KNEW someway somehow they were going to subject her character to this. They want her to be Yoshino 2.0 even though that’s NEVER been who she is because “lmao get it Shikamaru is just like his dad! Parallels!!”. They don’t take the time to think about how her character would actually react because none of that matters now - she exists solely to be Shikamaru’s wife. 

Some people are crying “abuse!” at what she did but I don’t really want to go there tbh. It’s very clear that in the Naruto universe things we find abusive are just par for the course. Calling out Temari in this instance would require we call out basically ever other female character which is not realistic. Domestic violence in Naruto is always played for laughs which is obviously fucked up but not something I think it’s fair to fault the characters for as we’re not intended to see it as abusive (even though realistically it is). No, what I really take issue with is the fact that being an overbearing and strict mother/wife is basically all Temari is given to do. 

This woman was born in one of the most fucked up situations of any character we see. He father was a walking human disaster, her mother was dead, and her youngest brother had a nasty habit of slaughtering anyone who looked at him the wrong way. She has always been strong and confident but throughout the series she softens considerably as she learns caring is not a weakness. She is a better diplomat than either of her brothers and remains calm and collected in even the tensest of situations. Her dynamic with Shikamaru has always been one of mutual respect and understanding which is what makes their relationship work so well (and IMO better than any of the canon relationships we got). Yes, Temari is a take no shit kind of person who probably WOULD chastise her son for his pitiful behavior - but not in the way we’re shown. In Boruto her parenting method basically amounted to “I’m just going to hit you and intimidate you until you get the picture and ultimately just end up listening to your cooler nicer wiser dad.” She doesn’t actually say anything of significance to Shikadai at all - that is reserved entirely for Shikamaru as he’s the influential one in their sons life. Temari is just there to be the ol’ ball-and-chain ~what a drag~ mom whose only dominion is the house she is confined to. THEN there’s the fact that Temari refusing to make dinner inevitably meant neither Shikamaru nor Shikadai could eat - as if a grown man could not make his own dinner and HAD to have his wife do it because it’s her domestic ~duty~. This is extra and dramatic but it actually makes me sick that they’re doing this to her. After everything she went through she would have something worthwhile to add to the conversation other than “bah you’re too easy on him I’m going to withhold meals to prove a point!!!”. She doesn’t treat her brothers like this and they’re consistently shown to value her opinion because her opinion is worth hearing. 

Temari played a crucial role in Suna politics prior to the end of the series. She sat on the council and came with Gaara to all the kage summits/meetings. She was one of the best kunoichi in the series just brimming with potential and strength and ferocity. During the war I began to get annoyed with how much they were making her revolve around Shikamaru’s character because after a certain point basically all her dialogue was in relation to him. That’s when I knew things were about to take a hard left turn for shits-ville and boy was I right. In chapter 700 ALL we see her doing is sitting in a house chastising her son and serving her brothers tea before they head out to a kage meeting without her. We don’t get any indication that she’s still affiliated with Suna, hell we don’t even get any indication that she’s still a ninja. In the boruto manga/movie she doesn’t interact with her siblings ONCE and is not with them in the pit with all the other Kage/advisors. I was happy to see she still had her fan but other than that I left highly unimpressed. Now in the anime she is ONCE AGAIN pictured in a house, serving people drinks and nagging away as if that’s all she’s good for anymore. I know it was played as a joke but that’s exactly what makes me so mad - her character has become nothing more than a trope meant to appeal to the lowest common denominator. The nagging housewive angle truly is the lowest hanging fruit but studio peirrot really could not resist could they.

Nevermind the fact that it would have been way funnier had they subverted the whole “why did you marry such a strict woman” thing by having Shikadai side with his mom instead, saying something to the effect of “why did you marry such an unmotivated slacker”. Can we stop treating Temari like she’s just an overly aggressive loaded gun that’s just one mistep away from going off. I mean I genuinely love Shikatema but I do not think the Boruto anime understands Shikatema. Part of me still wishes they just hadn’t got together because they don’t actually feel like “them” when they’re portrayed like this. No one is being respected as a character. 

Anyway all this to say I’m basically done with the Boruto anime now. I might still watch the next couple of episodes because curiosity is gonna get the better of me but emotionally I have severed all connections. It just comes down to the fact that I cannot handle them so grossly mischaracterizing characters that I have loved since I was 11 years old. I actually don’t mind the new gen when they’re on their own but every damn time they show one of the original characters they manage to fuck them up in some way. We see it with Temari, with Naruto, with Yamato, with Sakura. Hell I can’t stand Sasuke and even I’m mad about what they did to him post chapter 699. I am never going to like the new gen characters more than the original cast so if watching Boruto means seeing them get completely decimated then I’m not gonna watch it. Simple as that. Naruto being an absent father is the worst crime but I have no doubt they’ll continue to top that in future episodes. 

The Only Exception (Part 8)

Summary: AU. Reader is given the task of running a popular love advice internet show when her coworker is fired. Her cynical attitude toward love makes her offer some harsh advice, and more than a few hearts are caught in the aftermath. Will hers be one of them?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 2,733

Warnings: language, fire, panic, dangerous situation, rescue, drinking, bad jokes, I’m off the handle because I no longer care

A/N: If you don’t like it, don’t read it. After the posts I saw last week that personally attacked me…I wish some people put half as much effort into helping others and the earth as they do being genuinely awful.

Anyways, it’s fiction.

Part - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9

Originally posted by mizar113

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Jamie - Names (Drabble Series)

Bucky | Barnes | Buck | Sarge | Jamie | Soldat | Love | James | Epilogue

Character Pairing: Bucky x Female Reader

Summary: She calls Bucky by many different names. Each one portraying a different emotion, motive behind her words changing and telling with every utterance off her lips.

WC: 1550

A/N: Tags are now closed! This chapter is my favorite. If I were Bucky’s girl, I’d totally just call him Jamie all the time. I’m so blown away by the positive response to this series. I posted another series here earlier this summer and I think it got 45 notes at most on a chapter. Thank you so much guys!

Jamie was a name she used in two instances: when she was drunk and when she wanted something. It always amused him and he found it cute, wishing she would use it more often.

“Hey Jamie, what do you think of repainting the dining room?” (She was both for this one.)

“I know we never officially talked about getting a cat, but Jamie he’s so cute. You’ll love him I promise!”

It was the night of another rager of a Stark Party, a few weeks after Steve dragged everyone out to the compound. They were celebrating the end of a very successful mission that had taken months to plan and execute, not that Tony ever needed an excuse to throw a party.

She was drunk, relieving the stress of the past few weeks with one too many martinis.

“Jamie! Jaaaaaamieeeeee!” she sang out.

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Chapter 3 of Fanboy is posted!

Ao3 Link

The whole chapter below the cut

This is also an animation I did from one of the scenes in this chapter :)

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The Storm That Was Promised

“I hope I deserve it.”

“You do.”


When he reached the door to Daenerys’ cabin, the last thing Jon expected was to find an argument inside.

“Please, not that again…” Dany’s voice rang muffled. “All this talk of love is ruining everything… What is it you want from me?”

“Daenerys, please,” Jorah insisted, quieter than her. “Allow me to prove-“

“You’ve proven enough to me, Ser Jorah… Now, if you please forgive me, I must ask you to leave. I am expecting someone.”

“… it’s Jon Snow, isn’t it?”

“You object?”

Before Jorah could say any more, Jon was compelled to finally knock on the door - dangerously on cue.

There was incoherent muttering inside the cabin, and then Jorah’s footsteps grew nearer to greet him at the door.

“Mormont.” Jon feigned surprise, but the friendly gesture was not returned in kind. Jorah coldly stared him down, gave his queen a last fleeting look, and briskly brushed past him.

Cautiously, Jon came into Dany’s cabin, closing the door behind him as gently as he could.

He stood rooted to the spot for a moment, nervously searching the room with his eyes and looking around at anything but at Dany.

“Why are you still standing back there?” She smiled curiously. “Come into the light.”

“You’ll have to forgive me, Your Grace.” Said Jon. “I’m afraid I’m still a little achy from the Eastwatch incident.”

His body groaned like an old man’s, but with every step he took closer to her, he found himself growing younger and younger again.

She stood leaning ever so slightly against the side of a table, hands neatly clasped, and wore dark blue robes and fur draped over her shoulders - it was unlike anything Jon had seen her wear before. The winter is truly here if even the mother of dragons must wrap herself in furs to keep warm. It beautifully complimented her snow-white locks of hair, he thought, but brushed the thought aside after he realized his smile grew a little too wide for comfort. Stop gawking at her like a complete idiot, he mentally scolded himself, disgusted by his awkwardness.

Meanwhile, Daenerys was quite obviously grazing her eyes up and down his body as he emerged from the shadows. “You look stronger than you did yesterday, my lord.” She sighed softly. “It appears you heal faster than most men, wouldn’t you say?”

“Well- yeah. I suppose I am. I mean, I do… I, uh…” Jon fumbled over his words, swallowing back something that was making it increasingly harder for him to breathe. “Listen, Dany - all this - this curtsying crap – what say you we move on from that already? You don’t have to call me ‘my lord’ anymore. I owe you my life. I think that makes us a little better acquainted by now.”

Now it was Dany’s turn to look away.

She focused on her fingers, fiddling them shyly, the thoughts in her mind having seemed to lose their graceful flow.

Dany. Only one man has ever called her that - a man whose very name haunts her like last meal’s bile. But when Jon said it… it was as though all those memories were never real afterall. She felt comforted – so much so that she wanted to hear this gruff, northern boy to say it to her again and again.

Please, say it again, she returned her eyes to his. But the pause between them was too unbearable for her to stretch it any longer.

“You’re right.” She smiled at him. “There are no strangers left between us.”

There was something in the glance they shared at that moment that reminded them both of dragons. Regal. Entrancing. Searching… And above all, mysteriously familiar. Jon cleared his throat.

“Remember at Dragonstone - after you came back from The Reach?” He began.

“What about it?” Daenerys frowned at him, unsure as to where this was going.

“I remember standing up there next to you, just as I am now… I remember watching you, watching the dragons.” He stepped a little closer to her as he said this, and his words grew quieter as the air left him. “And I felt like… All of my fears and responsibilities were somehow lifted from my shoulders, light as a feather. There was nothing else in the world that I wanted more than to…” Jon’s voice caught in his throat, afraid to end that sentence, afraid of her reaction.

“Jon? To what?”

Oh, fuck it. He gulped. “…To kiss you.”

He looked at her like a frozen deer would - wide-eyed and ready to run. Jon recalled her earlier conversation with Jorah – a man who knew her since the beginning, who has been through hell with her, has made her happy in a way Jon’s brooding could never hope to. A man who is always ready to lay down his life for her, the same man she turned away a moment ago. Jon could not bear the thought of going through the same dismissal, after only months of having met her. But winter is coming, and he had to take risks.

Daenerys couldn’t believe her ears. I summoned you to my cabin to discuss our plans against the Night King, not to hear another confession of love. She was almost angry with him. She wasted all this time trying to persuade him to bend the knee for her, but had he made it known to her earlier about his intentions, she would have accepted a marriage proposal without a second thought.

But she couldn’t be angry with him. She wanted to, but instead her heart was enveloped with his sweetness and it made her feel vulnerable, which frightened her. She felt her cheeks blush against her will, and could only hope that the dim glow of the lanterns could conceal it at least a little.

“Forgive me, Dany.” Jon said finally, sounding tired and flustered. “I know it’s unexpected…”

There he said that name again. Daenerys shook her head, unable to look at him. “No, don’t apologize.”

She thought for a moment how much of her feelings for him she kept repressed. Love both the venom and the antidote, she knew. If she had never come to feel anything for Jon, perhaps Viserion might still be roaming the skies with his brothers. But just like she dismissed the legend of the White Walkers, Dany was skeptical of the subtle efforts Jon had made to hint at his feelings towards her. She needed to see the Army of the Dead first to know they were real, and she needed Jon Snow to prove her he really did love her. She trusted him before, she wanted to trust him with this too. Everyone wants to fuck the queen, but how many would care for her naked heart?

She looked back up at Jon to read his expression, but his eyes were lost beneath the shadows of his brows. He sensed she didn’t believe how much this meant to him – how much she meant to him. I cannot leave this room the way Jorah did. He clenched his fists.

To his surprise, Daenerys made a move to approach him. Although she looked rather serious, her eyes were glistening with emotion.

What is she thinking? Jon wondered, parting his lips absent-mindedly. She was now so close to him he could almost feel the heat of her glowing, silver-gold image. She seemed like something out of a heavenly vision, her long hair was styled in a loose Westerosi fashion, and her gentle face was as perplexing and graceful as the moon.

Daenerys took his hand. He’s so cold… She took it in both of her hands, warming it up before lifting it to her face and holding it there. She closed her eyes for a moment and deeply inhaled the small of his wrist. He smells of leather and cold steel and pinewood, she smiled fondly.

Jon could only stare at her in disbelief, for his heart was so incredibly moved. As she pressed his hand closer to her cheek, intertwining her fingers with his, he realized just how warm she really was. She reminded him of summers at Winterfell so many years ago.

His thumb moved lightly over Dany’s lips, as she parted them to speak.

“Are you sure you want this?” Daenerys spoke so sadly, so quietly, Jon almost thought he imagined it, but her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I am a monster, Jon Snow. My children are monsters - and they’re all I could ever offer you… You deserve better than this - you deserve a future - a happy, peaceful future…”

“No, don’t you say that.” Jon shook his head, upset over the mere suggestion. He took her face in both hands, steadying her gaze into his. “Listen to me - I don’t care about that. I never have. And just because they call me the King in the North, it doesn’t make me any less of a bastard… I am a bastard, my love.” He sighed after he failed to stop himself from calling her that, but he continued, hoping she’d forgive him. “You know the dead are coming – you’ve seen them, and that means none of us can have the future we want… But you know what I believe?” He inched closer to her, closing any space that was left between them. “I believe that together, you and I, we can create history.”

Daenerys could only gaze at him in wonder, then at his lips as she watched him lean into her. And like a moth to a flame, his lips found hers, and she felt all of her fears and worries melt into nothing but pleasure. In fact, their mutual hunger was so fierce that it startled them, and they had to tear eachother’s lips apart just to gasp for air. Both believed the other was a dream, and that kissing too hard might frighten them awake.

And yet, they kissed again anyway, a little bolder this time. And kissed again, and bolder again, and with each kiss they grew surer and surer that this was indeed real and it was happening.

Daenerys Targaryen did not kiss the way Wildlings or teenage girls kiss, according to Jon’s experience. She did not bite him until he bled, nor leak her drool all over his beard. She did not stink of manure or sweat or blood. No… this creature was delicate, clean and perfumed with warm and sweet spices from lands of eternal summer. Her lips were softer than the ripest peaches he ever ate. And when his tongue pierced into the contents within her mouth, he found more juice than could ever quench his thirst.

But her mouth wasn’t enough.

She was an entire royal feast of exotic dishes, that much Jon Snow knew. He yearned to taste all of her - to burn her into himself until he no longer was himself.

But no sooner had his lips set forth to the nape of her neck that he had already lost his senses in its depths. He pulled the furs away in search of that warm, pulsing curve, suckled hard on her skin and then bit her rather sharply, playful as a wolf.

But the dragon, instead of growling in kind, gasped with pleasure, and buried her fingers in his lush, black hair.

Jon couldn’t believe his ears and snapped out of it, looking back at her to make sure he didn’t just imagine it.

Dany, however, was equally as senseless now, and wouldn’t stand for pointless pauses like these. She tugged at his hair, and kissed him with a hunger that pushed him back. Surprised and intoxicated by her sudden show of force on him, he reacted by pushing her right back and then seated her up on the table. He squeezed her even harder against his body, and moved to kiss her neck again, where her perfumes plunged him even deeper into what was already a sensuous overload.

She felt his hand wrap around her neck and direct her back into his dark gaze - a gaze that was now burning with a strange, hypnotic defiance.

“You will be mine Daenerys Targaryen - even if your dragons burn me to a crisp.”

Daenerys felt something else burn between her legs, and her breath was heavy and irregular between their hungry kisses, and her voice was rendered delicate as gossamer. “I am all yours Jon Snow…” She promised.

Perhaps Dany had wanted to add something more, but the thought evaporated when she felt Jon’s cold hands sliding up her thighs, lifting the fabric of her dress along.

Why does his touch make me tremble like this? She clung to him helplessly as they kissed.

Dany’s own hands restlessly moved about him – squeezing his arms, pulling his hair, caressing his face, his neck, his back… She yearned to feel his naked skin - to dig her nails and teeth in him – to prove that she is a dragon not just in name.

But Jon Snow was not like the others. Not like her late Khal Drogo, not like Daario Naharis. He was nothing like the self-assured slave girl who taught her the ways of seduction, and he sure as hell was not like her critical, psychotic brother had been.

She has never made love like this.

Ever since she learned how to mountDrogo, she has never been the submissive one - she was always the one in control with all of her partners. She didn’t know any other way, and yet here she was - ghostly and drunk with the desire to be used in any which way to please Jon Snow.

But her pride protested, and old habits nudged her to take control.

She was torn between wanting to untie Jon’s breeches or his shirt.

She wanted to see those scars of his up close - she wanted to kiss them all - to feel the bumps and the ridges, the hills and the valleys of his lean chest.

But her old self would have only cared for the cock in her grip, at her mercy, where she was comfortable and powerful and knew what to do. Where she could set out to prove again and again that she was not a little girl, that not even a mighty Khal could be above her.

She had to make the decision and fast - but she couldn’t do it. She was utterly disarmed when underneath her dress she felt Jon’s hands cup around her buttocks and squeeze her so deliciously, that she couldn’t help but curve her back like a cat stretching in the sun.

“Dany…” Jon pulled away nervously. “The scars… ”

“Show them to me.” Dany almost begged him.

Jon took a deep breath before he withdrew his hands away from her to undo the buttons of his black shirt. Dany could only watch in anticipation as he parted his shirt to reveal his chest. Wordlessly, she moved her hands over to inspect the scars up close. Endless questions began swirling in her head.

“Who..?” Her voice trembled with pain and shock, as if she could still see the blood.

“Doesn’t matter now.” Jon assured her, gently stroking her hair.

The small, affectionate pause they shared was enough to encourage Daenerys to act; she seized his shirt and made him take it off entirely. Hungrily, her hands climbed up his strong, veiny arms and he stroke her thighs again, and her desire for him became unbearable.

The ship began swaying more violently, but neither of them were really aware of it until things started falling and shattering to the floor. The lanterns on the ceiling swung wildly, the ship groaned, but that didn’t stop the bastard from tearing off the queen’s dress.

There were men yelling and running around somewhere on the deck, but that didn’t frighten the Southern Invader from luring the Northern Fool to her bed, which she knew was nailed into the floor.

The sky flashed and rumbled outside the small windows, but Jon Snow has seen and heard it all before, but not what he’d see between the legs of Daenerys Targaryen, or what sound she would make if he were to enter in.

The wind howled, flapped the sails and banged the doors, but Dany only heard his voice, his breath, his force banging against her body.

The sea raged and sprayed and licked the boat’s paint until it was raw. But it wasn’t the rain the storm brought down that night – it was snow. 

This was written by the lovely @aeliyen and subbmited here. Y’all are free to submit, just like this gorgerous piece right here. Enjoy!


Decided to share these because x-rays are awesome.

So Jocelyn has been having problems for a bit. She’s been regurgitating food. Now, the first regurge I could understand because I bothered her a lot after she ate, so I let it slide. Waited 2-3 weeks and fed again. Then we got another regurge. I figured from an upset stomach of the first one, everything else about her checked out. Started her on probiotics. Fed her a pinkie m.ouse 3 weeks later. Regurged that.  I decided to palpate her for abnormalities and found a lump. Ugh…

At the vet we found out the lump moves which means it’s an impaction. It doesn’t show up too well on the x-rays though. The likely running theory right now is she got impacted…. on fur…. (Stares into the camera like I’m in The Office.)

Basically white lips are known for regurging fur casts from their food, but we’re thinking that didn’t happen this time, and the fur went down instead of up. Since her lower digestive track is not meant for fur, it’s stuck. We managed to reshape it to be easier to pass and moved it down a bit. I may try to work it out a bit more under advisement as well. Until it is out, she is on a liquid diet.

They do naturally consume furred mammals but I guess this can happen too. So basically white lips are the worst.

charmer week day 2: first date

“Em. Em. Em.”

Em was lying on her bed, lazily turning pages in her book. She refused to look up at Caitlin.

“Emily. Emilyyyyyyyy…”

Em turned another page in her book. Caitlin could see a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“Emily Rachel Eastman,” implored Cait. “Light of my life. Most generous roommate. Finest setter on the Samwell Women’s Volleyball team. Do I look okay enough for this date?”

Keep reading

Humans are Weird - Part 2

~Here’s the second part to a series of shorts I may publish! Hope you enjoy!~

Xylion stood in front of the Cabin section, the four humans standing behind him. Zellnor had tasked him with showing them around. While not his favorite task, he guessed it’d go to him. He was one of Zellnor’s good friends, but still, he was nervous around the humans. Who knew what’d they do to him if given the choice?

“So your name is Xylion?” HUman Jennifer asked, moving into his path.

Xylion felt his spines stand on end. “Y-yes!” He stuttered, his whole body standing on end.

Human Jennifer bared the white bones once more. “That’s a really nice name!”

Xylion felt embarrassment fill him. If he was the same species as Zellnor, he probably would’ve been yellow or pink. He was glad he wasn’t, though. “Thank you, Human Jennifer.”

Human Jennifer’s face seemed to turn red. However, it wasn’t in embarrassment, it was in anger. “Call me Jenny.” They choked out, her mouth barely moving and her voice strained.

“Do you need to see the doctor? She’s quite nice. I think you need a check up.” Xylion said, fear filling him.

Human Jennif- Jenny shook their head. “I’m fine. I just don’t really like being called Jennifer. Besides, we’re friends now, you can call me Jenny!”

Xylion was confused. They were…friends? Human Fredrick sighed. “Ignore Jenny, she is pretty social and always trusts everyone.”

Human Jenny glared at him. “Shut up, Freddie.”

Human Fredrick’s fleshy parts on the side of his head seemed to turn red along with his neck. Was he dying too? Xylion wasn’t sure he’d be able to handle this!

“Not you too! Do you need to go to the hospital too, Human Fredrick?” He cried, holding himself back from shaking him violently so he’d tell him.

Human Fredrick’s face only turned red in response. Xylion was about to die. How could he keep a watch on the humans when they were already dying? He was a terrible-!

He stopped when he heard laughing. While not normal for his species, he recognized it well. He turned around and looked at Human Isaac, who was clutching his chest and on the floor, laughter spilling out of his mouth. Xylion stared at him, and saw him choking on air. “I- I can’t breath!” He said, laughing throughout his whole sentence.

Xylion narrowed his eyes at him. “What is causing your laughter, Human Isaac?”

Human Mason sighed as he kicked Human Isaac. Xylion almost screamed. Why would he injure his fellow crew member? “Get up, idiot.”

Human Isaac listened, rubbing the spot Human Mason had kicked him. “Dude, why? I’m sorry that Xylion doesn’t know what blushing is!”

Xylion reeled back. Blushing? What was that? Human Isaac threw his appendage at him. “See? Look at that expression!”

“What is…blushing, did you all it?”

Human Fredrick seemed to have recovered some. He cleared his throat before pushing his goggles up further. “It is something humans do when embarrassed. It’s nothing life threatening, but it certainly can betray your feelings. For example, Zellnor is one of the Charies, correct?”

“Yes, why?”

“Well, Zellnor’s species is known for changing the color of their skin when they are feeling a certain emotion. Red for anger, green for sickness, dark green for jealousy, yellow for embarrassment, pink for love, etcetera. Blushing is kind of like that, humans’ skin turns red when they are embarrassed. It can happen a lot to some people, or hardly at all for others. And, the dark the skin, the less likely you can see the blush. At least, so I’ve heard.” Human Fredrick finished, tapping his chin.

Xylion nodded. “Makes sense, I guess.”

“Anything else you want to ask?” Human Fredrick questioned, corssing his appendages. 

“Yes, a few, actually. Why do you wear goggles?”

“You mean my glasses? They help me see. My eyes aren’t as good as the normal for humans, so I have to wear glasses to help me see.”

“And those appendages?”

“Are you talking about our arms and hands?” Human Jenny asked, holding out the appendages.

“So they are called arms…and the smaller ones?”

“Well, all of it together is a hand, but this part here is called the palm, these a fingers, and this is a thumb.” Human Jenny explained, pointing to each part.

“I see..”

“Anything else?” Human Isaac asked, his mouth pulled upwards, but not baring those terrible white things.

“What is inside your mouth?”

“You mean teeth?” Human Isaac scoffed, showing them off.

“Those aren’t teeth.”

“Ours are more filed down.” Human Fredrick said, adjusting his glasses once more. “We don’t tear into the flesh of out food. Not any more, anyways.”

Xylion was slightly scared. “And last but not least, why are there so many different colors of you all?”

Human Mason stiffened. Human Fredrick cast him a worried glance before answering. “Well, the different hemispheres on Earth are hotter or colder. The colder the area, the lighter the skin has to be so it can absorb more Vitamin D. And the darker it is, the less they have to absorb because they always absorb so much.”

“I see…”

“Anything else?” Human Jenny asked, baring her teeth.

“What is that?”


“That thing you keep doing.”

“You mean smiling?”

“That’s what you call it?”

Next part will come out later…hope you enjoyed this part.

A superhero listens to her head: A Marinette analysis

Or rather, I’ve become confused by fandom’s view of Marinette and her perception of herself, as well as fandom’s view of her decision to keep her identity a secret, and I really needed to make a long, cathartic post about it. 

Let’s just take a look at Marinette’s character before I get into the heart of this. Going back to Origins, she started out exactly as I expected her to; a bit of a push over, but with a little bit of spunk beneath the surface that needed an outlet. Without the responsibilities of Ladybug to give her that metaphorical kick out the door, she saw herself as a human disaster with the worst kind of luck. Chloe apparently making Marinette a constant victim of hers certainly didn’t help matters, and it was when Chloe stole her seat that we saw a girl who hasn’t yet gained that confidence she’s known for. Marinette confided in Alya that she wished she was able to stand up to Chloe right after the incident. She had insecurities born out of her clumsiness and constantly being pushed around by the class bully. 

Of course, she had moments of standing up for herself, though her frustration was directed at the wrong person when she told off Adrien for what she thought was him helping Chloe put gum on her seat. I wouldn’t call it a victory, but what it does show us is that Marinette wasn’t timid enough to let acts like this slide by without saying something at this point. Like I said above, she had spunk, but no way for her shell to really crack open yet. It wasn’t until she became Ladybug for the first time and was forced into a position where she had to act that she displayed her brilliance as a heroine with great strategic skills. 

Her moment of doubt after failing to purify the akuma only made me appreciate Marinette’s journey in becoming confident all the more. Crushed after making a critical mistake with the akuma, she was ready to give up, thinking she wasn’t super hero material. Rome wasn’t built in a day after all, and from what we’ve seen of her this far in the origins story, she had a lot of self doubt when it came to taking a stand against oppressors and jerks of any kind. Marinette had to be forced to act once again, this time because Alya was trapped beneath a car. This catalyst, plus Chat Noir’s words of encouragement, gave her the final boost of confidence she needed to fully bloom into the power house super hero we know her to be now. 

I really appreciate the origin story of Marinette precisely because it showed us her doubt. Her leadership skills, her confidence to stand up to others she feels are in the wrong, this was hard-earned. She had to agonize over this decision to become Ladybug and be put through the ringer in order to come out on top. She was brought to her lowest point in order to be built back up again, and I guess this is the crux of the issue I have with how she’s often portrayed.

See, I feel like a lot of people just… ignore the struggle Marinette went through in Origins. Or not ignore per say, but there is a lot of hyper focus (and extreme exaggeration) on Marinette’s insecurities about her clumsy nature and push-over personality even though she moved past this, and she really worked to move past this at that. So whenever I read people refer to Marinette thinking of herself as ‘plain and boring, too shy’, I one, wonder if we’re watching the same show, and two, don’t think people appreciate how hard mentally she had to work to be the person she is now. 

This is who Marinette is; Someone who takes charge of a situation that’s out of hand, e.g; her running for class president to relieve her class of Chloe’s reign, assuring the class that they would finish the movie they had to produce with a measure of confidence and surety that only a natural-born leader could have, and let’s not forget every time she had to put Chloe in her place whenever the situation called for it. This girl will get an idea for a design or a plan to defeat and akuma and  she puts herself fully behind it, knowing the idea is good. This is someone who is confident in herself and knows exactly what she’s worth. Marinette is Ladybug, and there has never been a moment where she thought of herself as wearing this mask of confidence as a ruse that hid an insecure girl beneath. 

And I want to make myself clear, all of this is not to say that Marinette can’t have doubt from time to time. She’s human, she’s a teenager, so it’s to be expected that there will be moments of her questioning herself. One moment that comes to mind is in Antibug when she was detransformed and faced with what she thought was an inability to help Chat Noir without her powers. All it took was some encouraging words from Tikki that she was Ladybug with or without the suit for her to get her act together and formulate a plan. But for whatever reason, it seems like this moment has been latched onto by a good chunk of the fandom as proof of Marinette’s insecurities about herself, even though she bounced back really quick from a very reasonable moment of doubt. I say reasonable, because it was Marinette having to face a super villain without super powers, and anyone would look at that situation and probably make that judgement call no matter how confident in their abilities they were.

There are 2 more seasons of this show planned out. I completely expect there to be more moments of Marinette questioning her abilities, of being hard on herself for any mistake she might make because it’s natural to do this, especially with all the pressures that comes with being a super hero. But there is a very big different between that and the near self-loathing I see people portray her having, to the point where it’s a generally accepted head canon that Marinette’s desire to keep her identity a secret from Chat Noir was born from crippling insecurities, despite there being absolutely no evidence for this. 

It’s precisely this trope in fandom that inspired me to write this entire thing. There are a lot of problems I have with this, from the mischaracterization of Marinette, to the blame that’s put solely on her shoulders for keeping her and Chat Noir’s identity a secret from each other. Before I delve into this though, everyone, keep writing what you’re writing. If you like this trope, have at it, please. The last thing I want to do is like… dictate what people should and shouldn’t write. I just find it worth criticizing only because it seems to be across the board that this characterization of Marinette is canon, when there’s very little evidence for it, and in fact, there was a clear dichotomy set up between Ladybug and Chat Noir and how they view this whole secret identity business that’s rarely explored, but more on that later. 

When the issue of secret identities is first brought up in great detail, it’s in Lady Wifi. We see for the first time how desperate Chat Noir was to know who’s behind Ladybug’s mask. He’s in love with her after all, and he wants to get to know all of her. So he pleaded with her to drop the mask. Here was Ladybug’s response; 

She even smiled at him consolingly before shutting the door behind her. Now, to me this reaction isn’t screaming defensive. If anything, it is completely empathetic to Chat Noir’s desire to learn who she is, so it’s safe to assume, to me anyway, that she would also like to know who he is too. But here’s the thing about Ladybug; despite how frazzled she can get in certain situations (usually involving Adrien), she is someone who thinks with her head. She even said it;

Can we just dissect that line for a second though? She decided to listen to her head despite what her heart was saying. So this meant her heart was telling her to reveal herself to Chat Noir. She wants to. He’s her partner and I’m sure she loves him as a dear friend at this point. But she was faced with an emotional decision vs. a logical one, and she chose the logical route.

But people portray her as making this decision emotionally, through a desire to keep her superhero life and civilian life separate because she doesn’t want Chat Noir, and generally people she cares about, to be disappointed that she’s Ladybug. And this is just so, so wrong. Not only is there nothing to back this up, it often completely ignores the age-old trope of keeping this a secret purely for their own physical safety, as well as their loved ones.

It’s taken so much farther than this though. I’ve seen it far too often that the weight of this decision of put entirely onto Ladybug’s shoulders, and 9 times out of 10 she’s shown to be the unreasonable one when it comes to keeping her identity a secret despite it being the smart thing to do. 9 times out of 10, this portrayal seems to be used for the sole purpose of making Chat Noir out to be the silently suffering, but oh so patient friend that’s just waiting for Ladybug to stop being overly defensive about her identity. 

I think that’s the part that really upsets me, if I’m thinking on it. Chat Noir is more popular than Ladybug in the fandom, and treated a lot more… softly, than her, and I think it really shows in this trope. In a situation where Ladybug kindly turned down Chat Noir’s offer to learn each others identities for logical reasons, it’s often twisted into this emotionally damaging situation, where Ladybug is so insecure that she’s the one dealing all of the emotional damage to Chat Noir in order to protect herself. In a situation where Chat Noir’s desire to know who she is to the point of nearly opening that door despite her wishes can be summed up as reckless and disrespectful (and thank god he decided not to, because he’s so much better than that), Ladybug is the one who is always written to be in the wrong. 

How? Why?

I can’t see how keeping their identity a secret is not the right course of action to take. As far as I see it, Ladybug is just thinking ahead. What if one of them got captured and was forced to disclose who their partner was? What would have happened if Chat Noir knew who Ladybug was, and he was put under the control of an akuma? There would be nothing to stop him from letting the world know who Ladybug was. Generally though, this is just superhero 101 stuff. There was nothing personal about the decision Ladybug came to, so whether you think them knowing each other behind the mask is a safety issue or not, it doesn’t change that Ladybug clearly thought it was. Why would she say that it was a decision made with her head, if there was some personal reason behind it?

Also, I think ignoring that she came to this decision by using her head ruins the wonderful dichotomy set up between her and Chat Noir. Right after Adrien left the hotel after deciding to not peak in on Ladybug while she detransformed, Plagg asked him, “What were you thinking?” referring to him missing out on the chance to peak in on Ladybug. Adrien simply said he wasn’t thinking, that he was following his heart. His heart was telling him to listen to what she wanted, so in his own way he also came to the decision to keep their identities a secret. This scene is directly juxtaposed by the next one, with Marinette coming to the same decision, but by using her head and not her heart. 

So here you have Ladybug wanting their identities to be kept secret because it’s logical and thus safer for everyone. It makes sense. Chat Noir is the opposite. His decision to close that door and not peak wasn’t made because he saw the sense in her decision, and we can presume this because he follows this up by saying it was a decision made with his heart. One can assume he meant that he wanted to respect Ladybug’s wishes, rather than agreeing with her that this was the right thing to do. There’s just so much writing material to unpack in that alone, but it can’t be seen if most of the fandom ignores Ladybug as the one who thinks logically in the partnership. 

I’m not really sure what I’m trying to do with this analysis besides getting all my feelings out about this character. It was just something I felt desperately needed pointing out, not just because it mischaracterizes Marinette, but I find that she’s often treated very unfairly by fandom for the decision to keep her identity a secret. It can’t all be put onto her shoulders. She’s not hiding this because she feels unworthy of the title, despite how it might hurt Chat Noir. She’s just being smart. If anything, Chat Noir could have been classified as being reckless for wanting to know who she is, but this is something I rarely if ever seen brought up by the fandom.

To sum it up, well… I guess what I’m trying to say more frankly is I wish fandom would give Marinette a break. She’s a lot more secure in herself as a person, logical, and empathetic of Chat Noir’s feelings than people often give her credit for.