#i will not become violent i will not become violent i will not become violent i will not become v

[kooyeux]

SQUIRTLE.

“If you were a pokèmon, you would be Squirtle.”

CW: squirting, overstimulation, püssy eating, edging, fingering, clit play.

Boyfriend discovers that he can make you squirt and he becomes obsessed with it.

© KOOYEUX 2024.

When your boyfriend once discovered that you could squirt, he couldn’t get it out of his mind, finding himself thinking about it almost everyday.

Repeatedly trying to persuade you into doing it again but failing as you keep telling him how that time was absolutely embarrassing for you.

Yet, tonight Jungkook is between your squishy thighs, knuckles deep into your soaked cunt. Murmuring sweet nothings against your clit.

“So good, aren’t ya?”

He spits on your cunt, smearing it with the pad of his thumb between your folds. Lewd sounds of your soppy hole being screwed by his middle and ring fingers.

Whimpers and soft moans are the only sounds that pass past your lips, reaching his ears like god’s angel’s prayers. You’re preaching to him.

Jungkook’s goal of the night is to make you squirt, hard— all over his face. He won’t give up, atleast not until you’ll give it to him, nice and wet.

Tip of his tongue teasingly flickering on your clit, giving the stimulation needed for you to grab she sheets and roll your hips on his face. “Good girl, grind on my face like that..”

Jungkook’s voice would’ve sent you on the fine line of coming, if only he hadn’t removed his fingers from your pussy making you whine his name with pure annoyance.

You cover your flushed face, still twisted in a now fading pleasure expression, “Why would you do that?” gentle voice of yours scolding Jungkook’s evil actions.

“M’sorry baby,” He is not and you know. “Gonna make an angel like you feel good, mh?” He purs, displaying a sweet grin as he pierces your eyes with his.

“You deserve it.”

Jungkook dips his head back into your pussy, ready to taste you again. Flatting his long tongue before dragging it up to your bud, tightly wrapping it with his lips— sucking it and swiping around it.

“Kook, your fingers..please.” You gasp, tightly holding his hair. Feeling full as he gently and sloppily pumps two digits into you, obeying your need straight away.

The steady movements makes a hot pool linger in the pit of your stomach. Your cunt tightens around his fingers, sending him a warning of your coming orgasm.

Your cries are getting a little louder and thighs threaten to tightly close around Jungkook’s neck. “I know, I know baby. Hold it f’me..” He pleads, fingers curling up to your cervix.

“I, I can’t— too much!” He knows, coos at you and works in you faster which you respond to by creaming on his fingers and shrieking.

But Jungkook is not done, not even near it: the grip around your thigh feels more forceful as he violently keeps on abusing your cunt with all the power he can muster. He messily makes-out with your folds, never forgetting to give attention at your already molested clit.

Little hiccups get trapped in your throat as the feeling of another orgasm is chasing you, this time more and more intensely— almost sensing it rushing out of you.

And suddenly you snap, glisten juices covering Jungkook’s face as he stares up at you with a grin of a winner. His hair are stuck on his sweaty forehead, beaten lips and red cheeks; he swirls his tongue around the tip of his fingers, popping ’em inside his warm mouth.

Your insides flip, the sight in front of you is erotic. “Shit, think i’m gonna cum just by licking your juices..” Jungkook throws is head back, chuckling.

“Nasty.” You mumble, closing your legs. He hovers over you, leaving a sweet peck on your forehead. “Maybe, but you did very good, cumming so much for me—”

“If you were a pokèmon, you would be Squirtle.” Jungkook licks your lips, as you close your eyes.

“You and your stupid word game!”

© kooyeux : all rights reserved.

#jungkook x reader #bts smut #jungkook smut #bts x reader #bts fanfic #smut jungkook #jungkook fanfic

[troybarnesbucky]

just returning here after 2 years of not being on this cursed app to say one thing and one thing only. i LEFT this app because of rampant antisemitism and dehumanization that i witnessed two years ago. my last post was about the death of sarah halimi z’l, which you were all silent about. today, six months after the most violent and deadly attack on jews since the Shoah, i return to see how the virulent and disgusting antisemitism that pushed me away from here is even worse than it ever was. i was on tumblr, with various accounts, for more than a decade. it was NEVER this bad but then again, the dehumanization of jews has become so normalized in the last five or six years, so idk why i’m surprised.

well i’m not really surprised. but i’m here because i want to say i told you so, but it’s pointless. you all don’t care. you don’t care that jewish people in your own countries, let alone israel (god forbid lollll) are being abused, attacked, bullied and dehumanized at pre-Shoah levels. you would rather that happen than exhibit nuance, empathy for everyone, or stay silent when you don’t need to say a fucking thing about a conflict miles and miles away from you, in distance and in reality. i’ve lost friends, i’ve lost my last year of education, i lost my mental health, all because when it comes to jews, no amount of repeating the same stupid, violent pattern of dehumanization will teach you non-jews (and yes, some of you jews too) the lesson of antisemitism and its poisonous, conspiratorial and dangerous nature.

we know you don’t care. it’s been made so abundantly clear, not just now but in the last six, seven, eight years. when the only antisemitism you cared about was in a harry potter book, or in trump’s dumbass comments, or in a movie about a jew with a prosthetic nose. and even then most of you didn’t care, you didn’t let us jews define our oppression — so we know you don’t care enough to give us that “privilege” now.

but i know, maybe twenty or thirty years from now, you’ll look at pictures and maybe even history books and remember what you said, did, and fought for. maybe you won’t. maybe you’ll still be sick, poisoned by antisemitism and unable to shake it off. or maybe not, and only then will you realize that you perpetuated this violence, evil, this dehumanization of jews. you called us nazis, you spit at our faces while we begged to be seen, you engaged in violent antisemitism comparable to nazi-era rhetoric. and maybe THEN you’ll feel bad. but then it’ll be too late.

to any jew that comes across this post, you’re not alone. my DMs are always open — i don’t come on this app much but will always be happy to talk. am yisrael chai ❤️

#antisemitism #jumblr #jewish hatred #judaism #am yisrael chai

[satansleftnutcheek]

The allos have annoyed me for long enough, I’m becoming violent

[image ID: the “I am going to create blank that is so blank” glee meme template. It reads “I am going to create artwork that is so aggressively aroace”]

#aromantic #asexual #aroace #I’m fuckin DONE #NO MORE #I HAVE BEEN SUFFOCATED BY THEIR CULTURE FOR SO LONG RAAAAAAAAA #BECOMING VIOLENT AND AGGRESSIVE AND ANNOYING RAAAAAAAAAA

[kopilot-pop]

[New Jeans x Oldest Member! Reader] - #3

-imagine.

Summary: Silly little fics of you and the gorls. You’re basically the tired father figure in their lives.

Warning(s): Cursing, car accident?, bribing a worker?,!crack humor, Hanni has a stalker, you get violent, etc.

A/N: This is like really unserious lmao. I wrote it really lighthearted. Also, this was written over the course of the whole Ador vs Hybe situation. So please understand I’m slowly becoming more unhinged as the story goes.

———————————————————————

#1

You’re strong. I mean physically strong. All of New Jeans, hell, ADOR knows that.

Oh where’s Y/n unnie?; She’s out for a jog.

Unnie is your hand okay?; Yeah, I just had a sparring match today.

That’s just a part of your life.

Fans adore this about you, the girls adore this about you, and today, you’ve come to appreciate this fact too.

Especially when a stalker decided to show his face again at the airport.

It’s been about 2 months since you’ve last seen the man. He went viral on the news (by news I mean Dispatch) for being Hanni’s stalker.

The last time you met him - oh, it was ugly.

He snuck into a performance venue disguised as a staff member. You were the one that caught him lurking near the MC waiting room.

‘Hanni’s supposed to be in there.’

Five. seconds.

That’s all it took for Hanni’s scream to pierce your ear.

The stalker barged into the room, grabbed the girl, and attempted to drag her towards the exit.

You don’t remember much after that scene.

Actually you might remember punching his face something and throwing something him across the wall, but that doesn’t really matter does it?

It mattered alot to Dispatch, who got a hold of the security footage, and decided to share it for the world to see.

The whole situation cause alot of debates of “Oh he’s a stalker. He deserved it. Good job Y/n!” versus “Wow, you didn’t have to get that violent Y/n.”, and in the end, the company decided to put you on a short hiatus and a long scolding from the producer.

Currently, you guys are standing across a crosswalk in front of the airport. The six of you are scheduled to perform in Paris in a few days and decided to get there early to settle in. You all planned a short vacation before having a whole week of dancing after dancing.

So imagine your surprise to see the dirty little freak right between the paparazzis - with a broken camera, might I add - staring at your group.

After acknowledging his presence, you quickly turned to Hanni - hoping that she didn’t notice him yet.

Unfortunately, you were too late.

Hanni’s body was slightly shaking and you could see the fear in her eyes as she stares directly towards the area where the stalker is.

Instinctively, you rushed to her side, and held her waist with your arm.

“I’m not letting him get to you, bub.”

“I.. oh you saw him too?”

“Mm-hm, and I’ll sucker-punch him if he tries to touch you again, alright?”

Hanni giggles, “Nooo, I don’t want you to be stuck in our dorms again!”

“I think it’ll be worth it if I get to break his nose this time, no?”

Minji - overhearing your conversation - butts in.

“Please don’t break anybody’s nose today unnie.”

“I’ll try my best.”

Minji gives you a skeptical look and you give her an innocent smile.

When the crosswalk light turns green, the whole group starts to walk through the group of people, as security tries to make enough room for you guys to pass.

The six of you were just about to manage through the gates when Hanni’s pained scream cuts through the air. You snap your head towards your right to see the same stalker gripping a fist-full of her hair.

And in just a millisecond, a loud crack replaces the girl’s scream.

The paparazzis’ cameras went wild with flashes - all trying to capture how you grabbed the man by his collar and slammed your fist right into his nose. Your pupils were blown wide, piercing right through the stalker writhing on the floor.

“Y/N!!”

Minji was the only one quick enough to snap out of her shock and grab onto you before you could attempt to break anymore of his bones..

Yeah, guess you’re not making it to Paris.

———————————————————————

#2

“UNNIE!! Look at this!!”

Danielle happily skips over to the rack filled to the brim with different bunny plushies. You, her and Haerin all decided to go to a state fair that was happening only an hour away from the hotel.

Technically, you were dragged here by the two of them, but that doesn’t matter.

You watched as the girls looked through the pile of plushies while sipping in your smoothie.

‘Is this what parenthood feels like..’

When the two of them finally chose a bunny they liked, they simultaneously looked over to you… expectingly..

“What. Wait. I already bought us food?”

They nod.

“And hats, I bought us three hats.”

They nod, again.

They’re now directly under your nose, giving you those big puppy eyes. Sweat drips down your back, and it’s definitely not because of the Texas heat.

With a exasperated sigh, you reach into your back pocket and take out your card.

“Excuse me, how much for two of those plushies?”

“Oh, so sorry, but those aren’t for sale. You have to win 50 tickets to win two of them!”

The worker gives you a smile and continues helping out a family near the shooting range. When you turn around, Danielle has a clear pout on her face.

“Aww.. I thought I could buy them..”

“Not you, I could buy them.”

“Potato po-tah-to.”

For a moment you think of the choices you have. It’s either waste cash on a rigged shooting range, give up on the plushes, and.. oh.

“Can the two of you get wait in line for the bucket of cookies over there? Here-”

You hand over a 20$ bill. Danielle squeals happily and Haerin finally has a tiny smile on her face. The older girl grabs her hand and runs towards the stand.

As soon as they turn their backs on you, you slither over to the worker again.

“I need the plushies.”

“Wha- oh it’s you again. Look man, we have a policy that we can’t sell the prizes for c-cash.. wha..what is that..”

You quickly tuck a 100 dollar bill into his front pocket and give him an innocent smile.

“Dude, this isn’t a drug deal, I- ugh, fine, I’ll grab you the fucking plushies”

“Thank you :D”

You carry the two bunny plushies in your arms and a giant teddy bear the man gave you in return for a signature to give to his sister.

You awkwardly walk towards your groupmates while balancing the giant furball on your back.

“Y/n unnie!!! Oh my god! What is that?!”

Danielle looks clearly surprised, but you can tell she’s having a hard time containing her smile. Haerin’s trying her best to help you with the teddy bear.

“I.. uh…-holyshitthisisheavy- I hit the jack pot! Yeah, jackpot….”

You give them a toothy grin, not noticing the group of people taking photos of the three of you, and definitely not realizing the absolute fever Twitter is having over the pictures.

———————————————————————

#3

“I’m telling you guys, nothing’s gonna happen-”

A loud scream cuts off Minji as a ghost jumps out from the wardrobe.

Hanni and Danielle screams louder than the ghost, and runs into your arms in fear. You turn around to see Minji in the same situation as you - just with Hyein.

“Nevermind…” Minji rolls her eyes as the actor scurries off to a different room.

But her nonchalant behavior doesn’t last long when something under the bed grabs her ankle. She screams and - quite literally - jumps into your arms.

“WHY DID YOU CHOOSE A HAUNTED HOUSE FOR YOUR BUCKET LIST.”

The moment you let down a wide-eyed Minji, Hanni grabs your collar and shakes you; Pretty sure she’s trying to get revenge, but having absolutely no impact.

“Ack- I thought it would be fun..”

“FUN?! YOU THINK GHOSTS AND DEAD PEOPLE ARE FUN???!!!”

While Hanni growls at you with tears in her eyes, Haerin bravely opens the next door, only to be met with a doll dropped right in front of her face.

The shock causes her to let out a scream-

‘My ears are ringing.’

which you never expected from her - and run towards you to use your body as a shield.

“ALRIGHT, you guys stand behind me, and I’ll open all the doors, okay? That way I’m the one being threatened by the next ghoul or whatever…”

The girls nod their heads in unison. Hanni finally lets go of your collar to grip onto your left arm.

You cautiously kick open several doors, trying to find the exit, and on the third try you finally find another long corridor with a glowing exit sign at the end. The 6 of you slowly walk towards it but freezes when the buzzing sound of a chainsaw starting echoes from behind.

You’re the only one brave enough to turn around and see the clown standing in the middle of the room you guys just left.

“Okay, don’t panic but there’s a clown-”

The girls scream in unison as they sprint towards the exit like their life depends on it. You follow suit, and use your body to bust down the last door.

The whole group falls toward the ground together, and the younger girls naturally grab onto you, tightly closing their eyes in fear.

“Um… Congrats…?”

When you see the employee standing behind the counter, you sigh in relief that the haunted house is over.

“Guys, we escaped the house.”

They finally detach from you to take a look around their surroundings.

“Oh! Well that was nothing.” Hanni scoffs confidently, causing everyone around her to let out a deep sigh.

———————————————————————

#4

“We got into a car accident.”

“WHAT?!”

You jump up from the bed - almost dropping your phone - and check the contact name again.

“Yeah, I think Haerin unnie has a concussion.”

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT.”

You quickly put the phone on speaker and fumble around to find your jacket.

“Yeah.. so since Haerin unnie got her license we decided to take your car out for a drive..”

“Wait, wait- MY CAR?!”

“Yeah, you said we can take it out whenever we want? Anyways, we decided to go to the beach… but the road was really messy, I think my phone is glitched, unnie.”

“HUH?!”

“We kinda went down this hill… blah blah blah… we hit a telephone poll- blah blah….”

“Oh my god.”

You rush out the door to the location Hyein has told you. When you arrive, you spot the girls and your BMW M3 that you recently acquired after begging your uncle for 3 months to sell it to you.

With a quick glance you can tell that - thankfully - the car is only a little scratched up, so you immediately turn your attention to the girl curled up in the driver’s seat.

Haerin’s head is against the handle with both of her arms covering her face. Her knuckles are almost white.

“Hey, hey, you okay?”

The only response you receive is a tiny groan from the younger girl.

“Hyein said you might have a concussion? Can you look at me sweetheart?”

“She’s been like this the whole time.” Hyein chimes in.

“The car can be fixed, it’s fine, just a scratch. But it’s more important to me if you’re fine, bub.”

With that a few seconds of silence passes and you finally get a tiny ‘I’m okay’ from Haerin.

“Alright then, let’s move you to the backseat so I can drive us to the hospital, okay? Hyein, get in the passenger seat.”

“Hell yeah! Shotgun!!”

You carry Haerin to the backseat, but as you try to get her seatbelt on, you finally notice the frown on her face.

“Haerin, I’m not disappointed you guys took my car out. I told you guys you’re free to do that. However, I am upset that you guys weren’t careful and got hurt. Okay? We can talk about that after we check if the two of you are fine.”

“What- me too?”

“YES, YOU TOO. YOU WERE ALSO IN THE CAR!”

Hyein pouts at your disbelief. You sigh and give Haerin a peck on her forehead, and hurry to your seat to get to the hospital.

“Put your seatbelt on bub, I’m speeding to the ER.”

“W-wait, you just told us to be caref-AHHH!!”

———————————————————————

A/N: This was fun to write lol.

#fanfic #kpop #kpop fanfic #new jeans fic #newjeans #new jeans x reader #new jeans imagines #newjeans x reader #newjeans imagines #pham hanni x reader #hanni x reader #kim minji x reader #minji x reader #danielle marsh x reader #danielle x reader #haerin x reader #kang haerin x reader #lee hyein x reader #hyein x reader #fluff #kpop imagines

[romanticintheory]

Hello!!!! I was wondering if you could write an angst with Ghost/Simon where the reader was too clingy after having a bad day and he lashed out on her but he didn't think anything of it because the next day the reader was acting normal. He only noticed after a few weeks when reader became more distant and quiet. Feel free to ignore if it's too weird or you don't like it!!! ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

this one is dedicated to all the ones who were hurt and never got that apology. hope this alleviates the pain.

simon "ghost" riley x gn!reader || masterlist || request rules

-there was no one specific reason as to why today turned out to be a bad day. it just was.

-from accidentally burning yourself trying to make breakfast after waking up late to having to deal with the most insufferable customers, it just wasn't your day today.

-but it was okay, because you had simon to return to when everything was said and done.

-the frown on your face immediately softens the moment you see him walk through the door to your shared home. as soon as he pulls his mask and boots off, you make your way toward him and engulf him in a tight hug.

-you are painfully (but understandably) unaware of the thin veil of his patience and the frustration that had been brewing within him in the past few hours. he half-heartedly returns the embrace.

-"how was your day, si?" you ask him gently.

-"fine," he responds shortly, hoping there isn't more to the conversation.

-even after you pull away from him, you trail behind him as he moves around the house. this wasn't irregular behavior from either of you. simon wasn't usually the most talkative person in the room, anyway, but he loved to hear your voice. that was one of the things he loved about the two of you together; you filled the space he couldn't.

-today, though, was different. he was pissed off at all different kinds of people. for some reason, couldn't bring himself to tell you that he was having a bad day and needed some space, especially because it was evident you were having a bad one yourself.

-so when he turned on his heel after listening to your rambles for as much as he could take and lashed out at you, he tried not to think about the unbearable amount of guilt seeping into his veins.

-"would you just stop clinging to me for five minutes? god, 's like i can't get away from you or your constant fucking talking!"

-you had heard stories, mostly from simon, about the kind of man he could be when pushed to his limit. mostly, it was of violent, physical acts when it came to work or protecting the ones he loved. other times, he would tell you about when he'd lash out at others just like he did to you, now, and he always told it to you with a quiet fear. there was an unspoken meaning to him telling you about the times he's acted out: i don't want to do the same to you. i don't want to hurt you.

-but here he was, towering over you with a coldness in his eyes and a dryness in his throat from the sheer volume of his words.

-averting your gaze from his, you let out a meek, "'m sorry," and watch as he slams the door in front of your face.

-when he slinks into bed next to your sleeping form later that night, ridden with shame and guilt, he misses the tear-stained face hidden from him. after his outburst, you felt like all of the energy in your body had been taken away from you and retreated to bed early. you cried on and off for hours.

-you always thought you had a clinging problem. it was an insecurity you carried with you starting from childhood. friends would become acquaintances and family would keep you at arms-length. after years of believing the issue was you, simon walked into your life and told you different.

-if you stopped talking because you thought he stopped listening and was uninterested, he'd always turn back to you and genuinely ask why you stopped talking. whenever you apologized for hugging him for too long or asking to spend time with him for the third time that week, he'd always tilt his head at you and say in that low, sincere voice, "but i love you?"

-for all those reasons, you tried to give him the benefit of the doubt despite how much he hurt you. so, when he tries to bring it up the next morning, you do your best to brush it off. he was having a bad day. that was all. no need to make a fuss.

-"listen, love," he calls to you as you pop your piece of toast out of the toaster. "about last night-"

-completely disregarding his words, you look at the clock and stuff your phone into your pocket. "it's fine. honestly, simon," you tell him with the best smile you could muster. "i'm gonna be late. i'll see you tonight."

-you were so adamant on getting out as quick as possible that simon had no time to respond. he thought to himself that maybe he was making a bigger deal out of it than you. maybe there were no hard feelings and you were completely fine. after all, he was always overly worried for you, anyway.

-so, when you came home, he didn't mention it. it was as if last night didn't happen, and the two of you were perfectly fine. there were times where simon thought you were being a bit more restrained in your movements or words, but he tried to chalk it up to just him being overly paranoid. you said it was fine, so it was better not to push you on it, right?

-at first, you were doing really good at keeping yourself from overthinking the situation. however, as time went on and you paid more attention to how you acted around your boyfriend, you began to wonder if you were really that clingy.

-as the week progressed, your state of mind would deteriorate. what if it wasn't just a bad day? what if that was what he thought the entire time and was just waiting for the right moment to tell you? had he just been trying to cheer you up about your insecurities the entire time? and if he was, how much of this relationship was even real, then?

-the more you thought about it, the more distant you became. the last thing you wanted to do was make simon feel like he was being suffocated by you. you slowly stopped initiating physical affection with him, restricted talking about your day to a few sentences, and tried to answer simon's questions in one word when possible.

-he notices. of course he notices, it was like a stranger was living where you were supposed to be, and he missed it. he missed you.

-he asks you about your change when you're getting ready for bed, pulling the rest of your nightshirt over your head. despite being exhausted from work and looking like you were sitting out in the wind, he thought you never looked more ethereal than you did now.

-"(y/n)," he said.

-"hm?" you hummed to him, not turning toward his direction. you sat down on the edge of your side of the bed, turning off the lamp at the same time.

-your lack of emotional presence was starting to eat at him. he sat down next to you, the mattress dipping beneath his weight and forcing you to lean toward him.

-"you alright?"

-"yes. why?"

-"i dunno, you just seem..." his eyes tried to find yours, but you couldn't bring yourself to meet his gaze. "quiet."

-it was then that you looked at him, and it was scary to simon because he couldn't make out the emotion in your expression. there was nothing he could read.

-"isn't that-" you had to pause to try and stabilize your wavering voice. "isn't that what you wanted?"

-there was a tension-filled silence that settled in the room, and for a second you were worried that what you said was somehow incredibly offensive.

-finally, he chokes out, "i'm sorry."

-again, you try to muster up a smile. "it's fine, i already told you. i should've known you wanted space."

-"no."

-"no?"

-"it was my fault," he explains. "how could you 'ave known? i didn't tell you i wasn't in the mood that day, and that's not even considering the way i talked to you. i shouldn't have- nothing excuses what i said to you."

-still, you were convinced you were to blame. "well, i have a history of being clingy, so," you were trying to come up with more excuses for him. for most of your life, you had decided that you were the issue. it couldn't be any other way, right?

-"i know. it's one of the things i love you for," he says quietly. "not to sound cheesy but it's what makes you you, and i don't want you to lose that jus' 'cause i'm still shitty at communication."

-you knew in some capacity he was right. there was no excuse for how he talked to you, but the next words you wanted to say evaded you.

-simon thought about talking some more. instead, he grasped your back with one hand and slid his other underneath your legs, repositioning you on his lap. it was like a silent plea from him, a way of proving that he wanted to be close to you just as much as you wanted to be close to him.

-"you're sure i'm not too clingy?" you ask tentatively.

-"positive," he reassures you, rubbing small circles on your back with his thumb. "you wanna know something?"

-"what?"

-"if i wasn't so fucked up-"

-"you're not fucked up."

-"right." you never let him talk badly about himself. that was something he was still getting used to after all this time. being loved and learning to love himself. "well, if i didn't grow up the way i did and became the person i am, i'd probably be way clingier than you."

-"that's impossible," you deny, unconsciously letting yourself lean into his touch.

-"you don't know how much i want you. if my mind and body would let me, i'd be close to you all the time, showing you the attention you deserve."

-"you give me plenty."

-"agree to disagree," he stops with the circles and pulls you impossibly closer to his body. "but 'm trying. 'm trying to learn to let you love me and to not be afraid to love you. 'm sorry, love. i stopped trying that night, and i think it'll be the death of me."

-you let his words sink in, a thoughtful look on your face.

-"next time you'll tell me, right? what you're thinking?"

-"pinkie promise," he agrees, letting the hand under your legs slide out and raise his pinkie finger toward you.

-in return, you link your pinkie with his to seal the promise, and it feels as though the heavy tension in the air has cleared away.

-"i love you," he says, feeling bold from his previous admission.

-"i love you, too." there's that smile on your face. he never realized until now how he probably couldn't live without it.

-he kisses you on the lips, and for a moment the two of you just stay there in each other's arms, forgiving the past, healing the present, and dreaming of the future together.

#call of duty imagine #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #cod imagine #cod mw x reader #simon riley imagine #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost imagine #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #ghost x you #cod angst #call of duty angst #simon riley angst #ghost angst #cod hurt/comfort #simon riley hurt/comfort #cod fluff #call of duty fluff #rarawrites

[theshitpostcalligrapher]

req'd by @n0ech

*violent skeleton noises approach*

text: Now I am become Doot, dooter of doots

#calligraphy #shitpost

[matan4il]

On Friday, during Passover, a terrorist attack took place in Israel. The terrorist attacked an 18 years old girl on the streets of Ramla, stabbed her in the back, leaving her seriously wounded, as he ran away. The girl was in the city visiting a friend, whose father and brother heard the girl's screams and chased the terrorist. The dad, a civilian with a personal weapon, neutralized the attacker. The girl's state has since improved, but she's still hospitalized.

There is footage of the terrorist chasing the young girl down the street, stabbing her in the back without even stopping, causing her to collapse to the ground, as he continues, and flees the scene.

The anti-Israel protests on college campuses in the west are horrifying to watch. They were bad enough when they started on Oct 8, while Israel wasn't even counting its dead yet, because we were still fighting terrorists invading our country and endangering our civilians, so Israel's army was still not free to do anything in Gaza, but these protests have somehow gotten so much worse. They've become more openly antisemitic (we've seen more and more people doing the Nazi salute, and using signs calling for a "final solution," the whitewashed Nazi term for their intended annihilation of all Jews):

They are now more openly calling for blood (in the past week or so, we've seen no calls for a ceasefire, instead we've heard chants to kill Zionists, to burn Tel Aviv, for Iran to fire rockets at Israel, meaning at its civilian population, and to globalize the intifada, a wave of anti-Israel terrorist attacks. During the second intifada alone, over 1,200 people in Israel were murdered). They've also become more physically violent, with more and more Jewish and pro-Israel people being assaulted, and even requiring medical care:

I've been seeing so much, and it's being talked about on the news here more than you can imagine. The presidents of Israeli universities even did something unprecedented, that they've never done during any of Israel's former conflicts, no matter how bad those got. After publishing repeated calls for foreign universities to fight antisemitism and protect their Jewish students, the presidents of Israeli universities have now published an open letter, lamenting that the problem might be beyond the capacity of university presidents abroad to solve, and addressing Jewish students, stating they have a safe space here, offering them any assistance with pursuing it.

The worst protests are in the US, at Ivy League universities of all places, but I've heard horrifying things about universities in Canada, France, Australia as well... I feel like I can't really do this subject justice in just one post, so if I only share with you one last thing about it, this following vid would be it, because it's bigger than just the protests, and at the same time, partly explains how so many people have been recruited into them. It's a typical example of how in this complex conflict, real facts (such as vids filmed on the ground) are often taken out of context and manipulated to present a simplistic narrative, in which Zionists (i.e the overwhelming majority of Jews) are presented as intrinsically violent and evil, while ignoring and even lying about the anti-Jewish violence at play:

Jews and Jewish allies abroad, please take care of yourselves! And don't let all the hate get to you... Just because there's a lot of them, doesn't mean they're right. Or even that they're the majority. They just give that impression by being more vocal than anyone else, and taking over public spaces, pushing everyone else out.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

#israel #antisemitism #israeli #israel news #israel under attack #israel under fire #terrorism #anti terrorism #hamas #antisemitic #antisemites #jews #jew #judaism #jumblr #frumblr #jewish #israelunderattack #resources #Instagram

[aethon-recs]

2024 Update to Tomarrymort Longfic Recs — 8 additional fics

I wanted to add 8 lovely new longfics that have been published since the last time I put together this rec list — 6 more for the Intermediate reads list and 2 more for Advanced. Hopefully you’ll find something within these additional 950k words of absolutely brilliant Tomarrymort fic to sink your teeth into and enjoy:

Longfic rec list collection:

Tomarrymort Beginner reads are the fics I would use to introduce someone to the ship and help them get a baseline for the variety, themes, and tropes that best represent our ship;

Intermediate reads are for readers that are already familiar/sold on the ship, and are looking for fics that explore interesting new facets of the Tomarrymort dynamic; 

Advanced reads comprise challenging works of some nature, whether the writing features more complex subject matter and/or pushes the boundaries of what’s possible in a piece of fanfic.

Please enjoy these 8 additions to the list, all of which are either completed or still updating as of 2024!

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Intermediate Longfic Recs

A Light That Never Goes Out by @kippipies (M, 80k, WIP)

Setting: Non-Magical AU Premise: If Harry is the target of a dangerous crime lord called Voldemort and his gang of Death Eaters in a modern mafia AU. Why I rec it: This is a delightful, high-energy caper of a fic in which Harry is a scrappy low-time criminal who accidentally crosses crime boss Voldemort. Naturally, Voldemort sets his sights on getting revenge, but Harry slips through his fingers at the last minute each time. The action scenes in this fic are incredibly dynamic and super fun — I felt like I was watching an action movie at each confrontation between Harry and Voldemort.

And the Living Will Envy the Dead by @k-s-morgan (M, 81k, WIP)

Setting: Time Travel (1940s) Premise: If Harry were flung back in time to Tom’s sixth year and almost immediately reveals he is Tom’s horcrux, setting off a chain reaction of obsession and control.  Why I rec it: An intricately crafted character study of Tom and how he gained control over the rest of Slytherin House by the time Harry meets him at the start of sixth year. Harry’s arrival throws Tom’s plans off-kilter, especially once Harry reveals he was Tom’s horcrux in another timeline. This leads Tom to believe the other version of him had somehow loved Harry, and shows him that it’s possible to form such a connection with Harry here if he wants, despite how dark, cruel, and violent he turned out and how little he cares for others. 

By Any Means by @corpium (E, 74k, WIP)

Setting: Alternate Universe Premise: If Harry has a younger brother Evan who is the Boy-Who-Lived, yet Harry’s overprotective actions towards Evan end up attracting the attention of Voldemort directly onto himself. Why I rec it: This is a really engaging and fast-paced adaptation of canon events if Harry were born 2 years earlier and his younger brother were the one that the prophecy applied to. The relationship between Harry and Evan is really sweet, as they share the burden of growing up at the Dursleys and all the adventures that Harry underwent in canon. There’s also such a fascinating exploration of magic as Harry gradually becomes more powerful as a result of all the trials that he’s put through, eventually becoming powerful enough to attract the attention of Voldemort. 

Pledged by @moontearpensfic (E, 118k, WIP)

Setting: Alternate Universe Premise: If Harry and Tom are best friends that enter together into a Hunger Games-crossed-with-Triwizard Tournament in their seventh year.  Why I rec it: This fic depicts co-dependency to such an intense degree between Harry and Tom. Not only are they inseparable best friends throughout their time at Hogwarts, they also perform a cooperative magic ritual that binds their magic to each other permanently, and allows them to share thoughts and feelings with each other across a mental link. There’s also an intriguing mystery at the heart of this story, as Harry and Tom try to figure out the origins of the Triwizard-style tournament that they enter into in their seventh year. 

Revolution of Configured Stars by @tollingreminiscentbells (E, 153k, WIP)

Setting: Voldemort Wins AU Premise: If Harry was raised in a pureblood family in a universe where Voldemort wins, and ends up attracting the attention of Voldemort in his seventh year at Hogwarts.  Why I rec it: This is such an intricate, incredibly thoughtful depiction of a society where Voldemort won and Harry was raised as a ward of a pureblood family. By the time it’s Harry’s seventh year, he’s a budding Arithmancy scholar who wants to explore whether it’s possible to choose the optimal timeline via arithmantic calculations, which catches the attention of Voldemort. Voldemort and Harry’s relationship unfolds in such a steamy way, and they truly feel like equals who hold each other in high regard, as Voldemort reveals that they have been inextricably linked by fate, whether or not he ended up trying to kill Harry as a baby in this particular timeline. 

the stars, my destination by @milkandmoon-ao3 (M, 15k, WIP)

Setting: Time Travel (Marauders Era) Premise: If Harry is sent back in time as an infant and adopted into the Potter family, growing up and attending Hogwarts alongside James.  Why I rec it: There is a dearth of Harrymort fics set in Marauders Era so it is such a delight to read about Harry’s friendships and rivalries with Marauders Era characters, like being best friends with Regulus and Quidditch rivals with James. As Harry starts his sixth year, the First Wizarding War heats up in the background and begins spilling into their life at Hogwarts as many of their classmates are recruited to fight on either side of it. All the while that he has to keep secret the strange mental connection that he’s had with the Dark Lord all his life. 

*

Advanced Longfic Recs

Hearthstone Abbey (Series) by @ramabear (E, 152k, WIP series)

Setting: Soulmate AU Premise: If second year Harry is plucked away from his canon universe by Voldemort from another universe who is his soulmate. Why I rec it: I wholly melted at all the ways Voldemort takes care of Harry in this fic, better treatment than Harry’s ever gotten in his entire life, and Harry is so lovable and adorable in turn. Voldemort has established himself as a religious figurehead/cult leader in the alternate universe, and it was very interesting to read about his alternate path to power. The soft grooming in this fic was so so delicious, ramping up in intensity as the fic progresses; Voldemort completely dotes on Harry and their dynamic is so sweet and tender, a very nice counterbalance to the sinister and predatory tones that underlie their relationship.

if we were lovers by @reggieblk (E, 277k, complete)

Setting: Non-Magical AU Premise: If Harry and Tom meet in a prestigious drama programme and fall for each other against a backdrop of high stakes threatre productions.  Why I rec it: The character work is so rich and detailed in this coming-of-age story in a modern AU setting. It’s clear there was so much thought that went into all the character interactions here, not only between Harry and Tom, but also the ensemble cast of characters who inject so much heart and humor into this story as well. I love the way that @reggieblk cleverly weaves in elements from Shakespeare’s plays and uses the theatre backdrop to depict how the love story between Harry and Tom unfolds — their developing relationship feels, at the same time, both very immersive and cozy, as well as highly fraught with tension. (As a bonus, there is an absolutely amazing original play in the interlude chapter that was written specifically for this fic!)

*

#tomarrymort #tomarry #harrymort #aethon recs #tomarry recs #tomarrymort recs #harrymort recs #hp fic recs #longfic recs #ao3 recs #fanfic recs #tom riddle #voldemort #harry potter

[22ayla19]

Wriothesley x Younger sister Clorinde! Reader

Summary: Let's imagine that Clorinda has a younger sister who is very different from her sister, thereby winning the heart of one tea lover from Meropid Fortress.

Due to your violent nature, you have been called a hooligan since childhood, unlike your sister, who was calm (although still, at times, she liked to participate in your pranks). Of course, you are still a hooligan, but no matter how you look at it, your rowdy behavior was harmless. The last thing you want to do is end up in court before Judex and embarrass your sister, who has become a judicial duelist. Clorinde was grateful to you for the fact that you tried to cause her as little problems as possible.

How you met the Duke of Meropide Fortress can be described by the word originality.

Even though you were still a hooligan, you are a lady with great ambition in love. It’s good to get married so that your husband doesn’t drink or smoke, and doesn’t cheat. But, unfortunately, your current (now ex) boyfriend cheated on you, for which you could not forgive him and left him. Oh, and how much he ran after you, apologized, said that you were deliberately ignoring him. A walking problem clung to you and could not disappear. It got to the point where he started saying with threats that you had to marry him.

- But I’d rather marry that guy than a piece of shit like you! – you pointed at the guy who passed by, who turned out to be Wriothesley. This was the first time Wriothesley was confused, especially after you came up and kissed him on the lips. Passersby are shocked, the ex-boyfriend is shocked, Wriothesley is shocked. With the threat that you will pay for your choice, the ex-boyfriend left, and you, asking the stranger for forgiveness, ran away. Wriothesley himself stood there in shock for another two minutes.

Arriving home, Clorinde wanted to ask how your day was, but seeing you depressed, she prepared tea and covered you with a blanket. You then told her about what happened, of course, it was awkward, but on the advice of your sister, you decided to make an official apology to the stranger. Little did she know that after staying with Wriothesley at Fortress of Meropide, he would tell him how a girl he didn’t know French kissed him to scare off his ex-boyfriend.

“But my sister has been trying to find this stranger for a couple of days now. Who knew that it would be Wriothesley?..”

Convincing you that your elder sister had found that stranger, you went to Fortress of Meropide. To tell the truth, you were worried, was it possible that after that incident, this stranger was tried and ended up in the fortress? Various thoughts crossed your mind, but since the elder sister found a stranger, then she knows what she’s talking about.

- The Duke will be with you soon, Miss Clorinde, -the guard said to your sister.

- Thank you, - Clorinda answered briefly.

- I understand correctly that he was just talking about that same Duke of the Meropid Fortress? – you asked.

- Yes, this is the same Duke.

- Will the Duke himself bring that stranger? – you asked, clearly not understanding what was happening.

- You’ll find out everything for yourself soon, dear sister, - your sister answered with a slight grin.

The guard informed the Duke of the arrival of Clorinde and another lady. He wondered who this could be? Although only one option came to mind. Clorinde's younger sister. She told many times what a hooligan her sister was, she even promised to introduce her, although Wriothesley himself did not expect that he would meet her so soon.

- I didn’t expect that you would visit the Fortress of Meropide so soon, it seems like you were visiting only recently. Should I pour some tea? - Wriothesley greeted Clorinde with his signature grin.

- Tea can wait, but I want to introduce you to my sister, whom you met before, or rather, who kissed you.

An awkward silence hung in the Duke's office. You literally wanted to fall into the ground from shame. Well, how could you manage to kiss not an ordinary resident of Cour de Fontaine, but the Duke of the Fortress of Meropide himself!

- Why are we silent, little sister? You yourself wanted to apologize to him, - your sister tried to support you, although she was more likely to passively mock you.

- You didn’t tell me that this same stranger is the same mysterious Duke of the Meropid Fortress!

- Well, you didn’t ask him when you kissed him.

While you and your sister were arguing, Wriothesley was trying not to laugh. Firstly, so as not to embarrass you with my behavior, because I understood how ashamed you were of that situation; secondly: the arguments between you and your sister were very funny.

- Well, that's enough. Apologize and get it over with, - Clorinde said, hinting that she didn’t want Wriothesley to witness their quarrels.

You were very nervous, and not even because it was difficult to apologize, but because you managed to kiss the Duke himself. Without thinking for a long time, you let go of your head as a sign of apology and said:

- I apologize for the inconvenience caused. I sincerely want us both to forget about my thoughtless offense.

- Apology accepted, don't worry. To tell the truth, I was very surprised by your action, but I do not hate it at all. So you don't have to worry about it. Maybe we can get to know each other better over a cup of tea? - Wriothesley suggested, trying to somehow make the atmosphere in the office more comfortable, rather than awkward.

- Well, I won’t refuse.

Should I do a second part?

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #genshin imagines

[beatrixstonehill2]

"I'm ready for my injections," Holly told her boyfriend, Ryan.

"Good, you're becoming so obedient. I told you you'd come around eventually. You almost look eager."

Holly blushed, feeling the weight of her breasts hanging off her chest, already about twenty-five pounds each. Fifty whole pounds of pure breast. It felt absurd to her, so wrong, and yet inescapable. It was her new reality. "I'm excited to see them grow for you....."

"That's a good girl," he said, inserting IV needles into her breasts at various points.

Holly winced as her boyfriend injected her breasts with over a gallon of saline each. She remembered when she first met Ryan barely a year ago. He was so charming, they met at the gym and were both very passionate about being fit and healthy. She worked as a gymnastics instructor. Now she couldn't imagine trying to work her old job. The mothers would be horrified at such a huge-breasted cow of a woman trying to teach their daughters.

Soon into their relationship, Ryan mentioned having a big tit fetish. She thought nothing of it, what guy doesn't? Before long, she noticed her breasts were getting bigger and started lactating. He fessed up that he was drugging her water bottles, and apologized, but said he wanted her EE-Cup breasts much bigger. She was angry but as her girlfriend was still excited to please him and get bigger for him, despite not wanting large breasts.

Her breasts got bigger and bigger, impeding her ability to do gymnastics. Women began recommending she get a reduction or chop them off outright. Holly had to reluctantly admit her boyfriend was making her grow them out like this. His fetish consumed her life, made her lose her job, getting so bad she found herself becoming a living embodiment of his kinks. No longer Holly at all, just an object he acted on and molded into his perfect toy.

She gasped as the gallons of saline flooded her breasts, his new favorite means of torturing her. When they were done, her breasts ballooned to double their size, red and swollen, round and very taut like fake tits. He took out the needles and placed heart-shaped bandages over them to help keep her tits from springing leaks. This new way of increasing her breast size would ensure once the saline is absorbed her breasts would stretch, getting saggier, longer, emptier. Instead of being beautiful and full from the breast growth drugs, like a woman who's pumped out a dozen or so kids, her breasts would switch between extremely saggy, floppy and empty, and enormously round and heavy, filled to the point of popping with saline, heavy as two water coolers strapped to her chest.

Holly winced as Ryan tightened her leather straps and added the rest of her corrective harness, which looked a bit like bdsm gear, to help keep her back upright, pushing out her giant saline-filled boulder tits. Ryan smiled, smacking Holly's breasts, which made her recoil in pain. "It feels incredible when I hit them, doesn't it?"

Holly nodded, barely able to catch her breath. "Y-Yes.... Smack them all you want. They're yours."

"Good girl, but they're about to be all of Lower Manhattan's. I want you bringing in lots of money tonight, OK? Smile a lot, eagerly service any man, even the homeless ones or violent looking ones. I can't have you saying no to any clients. Don't worry, I'm taking my anti-STD pills every day so I won't contract all the bugs you're collecting. Oh, and if you don't mind, I want you whoring on the corner by your old dance studio, hopefully some of the moms and other women you worked with might get to see your new occupation. Doesn't that sound nice?"

Holly was blushing beat red. "B-But....."

"None of that. You don't have 'no' in your vocabulary. Now off you go!" he said, smacking one of her breasts again.

"OK.... I won't disappoint you."

"Good, otherwise I might have to paddle all that saline out of your tits when you get home"

Holly yelped as he spanked her, sending her out wearing only her harness and nothing else, to go enjoy her new occupation as a whore with giant saline-filled breasts. Which she slowly started to feel was exactly who she was always meant to be.

#be #breast expansion #breast inflation #bug chasing kink #whoring kink #body modification kink #humiliation kink

[darkfluffydragon]

So uh, I ended up making a new...? AU with @amitiagailec and @blueshadowdad XD except it's not really a new AU.

Introducing, Decidit's Curse! A modern universe featuring Phantas/Knowledge (Phantasmagoria!Shadow Milk), Ternate Milk (fragment au! Shadow Milk), and Blueberry Milkshake (dad! Shadow Milk). Except they're now all brothers, with Phantas being the oldest, Ternate being the middle child, and Blueberry being the youngest.

There's a twist, Phantas and Ternate are both creatures! Ternate is a vampire and Phantas, uh, no one is quite sure what Phantas is. I'll focus on Phantas and Majesty here, and I'll leave the others to explain their side of the story >:3

I'll start from the very beginning. Originally, there were the five original virtues, baked by the witches themselves. Tasked to guide and help cookiekind prosper, they were sent down to earthbread. At first, they did as they were told. Being treated as divine beings, as heroes. Until, one by one, they began to corrupt. In an attempt to stop the creatures of their own creation, the witches shattered the souljams, fragmenting them and scattering them across the tree of life, where the shards would fall upon and settle within the blood and souls of unfortunate victims.

Each Virtue, each Beast, manifested into its own type of curse.

Sloth promotes corruption, within self and within others. Tempting those who will listen to fall into greed and cruelty.

Apathy becomes uncaring. They stop caring about what happens to people. Not exactly losing emotion, they have their own emotions. But they don't have sympathy or empathy. They only care about their own goals, not caring about what they have to do or the people they ruin to get to it. If that means the downfall of a country, so be it. It doesn't matter to them, not anymore.

Destruction grows impulsive, and more angry. They find it harder to hold back the violent urges, find it harder to care about the violent urges. Finds it easier to find it fun.

Silence is a void of mind. They become a shell of themselves, losing their voice, then their thoughts. Guided only by the hatred of the other curses, Silence only falls once the others have fallen too, as there is no one else left to keep them from slipping into complete solitude and isolation within their minds.

Deceit is a loss of identity. An inability to recall who they are, who they're supposed to be. Sometimes they never notice it at all.

Knowledge Phantasmagoria Decidit is the eldest brother of the Decidit family. After losing their parents, and gaining custody of his younger siblings, he would later gain a job at the government. Unknown to the general public, he works in the Creatures Department under the Director. After being tasked to research the confidential magic known as 'Dark Moon Magic', he suffers an unexplained death.

A month later, he reappears back at his home's doorsteps, looking as though he had dug his way out of his grave. Because he had. And he came back...off.

In this universe, there is an existence called the Angels. They have different names as well, such as Guardians, or Faeries. They are created by the witches and have one primary task: watch over the bearers of the curses and interfere if required.

Gods/elementals and other mythical creatures also exist, though are hidden away from normal society. The cookie suffix is no longer used, though curse bearers, angels and gods occasionally slip up when speaking.

Majesty (Phantasmagoria! Pure Vanilla) is Blueberry Milkshake's student. He was born with a frail body, so he grew up being in and out of hospitals. Due to this, he could not properly go to school and was tutored. One day, he didn't show up to class and Blueberry would later find out that Majesty was in critical condition.

Phantas, seeing his brother so distraught, decides to do some...tomfoolery, and cures Majesty.

Majesty is completely fine. Nothing is wrong at all. He still sees the eyes in his dreams, in his mind. His thoughts are not his own.

#fyp #cookie run #crk #cookie run kingdom #cr kingdom #pure vanilla cookie #shadow milk cookie #phantasmagoria crk #vanillaverse #dad shadow milk au #fragment au #decidit's curse #also yes Timekeeper is Phanta's boss #“I know you have a lot of saved up holidays but a month is quite a long time” #he goes right back to work on Monday smh #eldritch brother am I right #also I promise to work on the actual phantasmagoria soon I promise- #T-T

[drjholtzmann]

going thru the drafts. this one was originally a fluffbruary prompt (whoops) but i chickened out

shower | blessed | layer

Dream is already in the kitchen when Hob gets home. Clattering through the door in a flurry of muffled curses and rustling fabric. He shucks off his coat and violently jabs it onto the coat hook, continuing to curse his way out of his shoes before standing upright again, flicking soaking wet hair back off his face. 

“Hello, stranger.” He says, aiming for casual but falling a little closer to perfunctory, unable to fully hide his frustration. 

“You’re –” Dream’s deep voice begins softly as Hob rushes to add, “I know – I’m late, I know.”

Dream, hands deep in his pockets, shoulders square, resting in one of Hob’s kitchen chairs, does not move to finish his sentence. 

“‘Light morning showers’, my eye,” Hob mutters murderously as he passes Dream and the kitchen table and continues to clatter on into the kitchen. “Fucking pissing down all afternoon! Shoes are soaked. Thought my jacket would be enough for light showers so I didn’t take a sodding umbrella, like a fucking bellend. The tube was disgusting – full of everyone trying to get out of the rain. So it was full of rainwater and the water-soaked public which, let me tell you, is a particular bouquet I don’t need to experience again in a hurry. Not at the end of a work day. I mean – you want some of this?” He pauses, wine bottle in one hand, glass in another, gesturing with the bottle towards Dream. Dream inclines his head. “I mean say what you will about the past,” Hob continues, placing the first glass down and grabbing out a second, “plenty of smells of all kinds. But at least we didn’t have fuckin’ Lynx Africa. A tube full of B.O., soaked woollen suits, stale air, muddy rainwater, all coated with the chemical tang of Lynx fucking Africa?” He gags and pours a generous, sloshing glass of red. “Adding insult to injury. Didn’t know how good we had it.” He spins the cap back onto the bottle with a metallic little hiss. “Anyway,” he places the second glass down in front of Dream. “How was your day?”  

At this Dream stands, eyes passing over Hob’s hair, falling to his shoulders, then down to his feet. “You are wet.”

“Yeah. Did you not hear the whole vitriolic spiel just now?” 

Dream looks at him like he’s stupid. “You are still in your wet clothes.” He clarifies, emphasising each word even more than usual, his eyes glinting with mockery.

Hob swallows his mouthful of wine. “Yeah, well.”

“Your socks, at least.” Dream suggests. And Hob makes a show of rolling his eyes, putting his wineglass down, and slouching back to the door.

He bends to pull off his sodden socks, and they hit the floor with a wet and heavy splat. “Meugh,” his lip curls. His eyes slide back to Dream and he resists rolling them. “Happy?” He crows, arms wide.

“Are you?”

He wiggles his damp toes against the floorboards, head tilting to the side. “Better. At least.” He concedes. 

“You ought to get out of your wet layers.” 

“When did you become mother hen?” But by now Hob is struggling to keep up the fever pitch of his frustration, a smile starting to tug at his words. 

“If you do not want my help…” Dream turns his back on him, picking up his wineglass.

“No! No. Of course I do.” He’s still playing along with the teasing, but it’s true. Always. And Dream knows it. He turns towards Hob again, a smug little smile hiding behind the rim of his glass. Hob holds his hands out to his sides, letting them fall back against his thighs. “Help me?” 

Dream scoffs, but the smirk is still in place as he sets his glass down and walks over to Hob in the entryway. “How you survived centuries between our meetings I will never know,” he tuts, plucking at Hob’s unbuttoned overshirt, slipping it down off his shoulders, then free from each wrist. 

“Made a deal with a lady.” Hob parries back, but it sounds distant even to him, far too hypnotised by watching Dream’s movements to commit to continuing their banter.

“Mm. Quite.” Dream draws the neck of Hob’s t-shirt between his thumb and forefinger and, assessing that it, too, is insufficiently dry, pulls it upwards. Hob is pliant, and increasingly calm in his grip. 

Hob is shirtless for barely a second before there is a soft warmth sliding up his arms. Something that looks a little like a smoking jacket but feels more like a soft fleecy dressing gown has been conjured within Dream’s palm and his being fitted neatly across his shoulders. It feels like sinking into a warm bath. The warmth between sleep and wakefulness. The heavy-muscled heat of laying close to a fire for long night hours. And Hob can’t help the full-body contented sigh that comes out of him. He feels his shoulders relax down an entire inch. His head almost falls forward, eyes closed, ready to drop right off to sleep. 

“Is that not better?”

“Mm,” Hob shuffles closer. “Better,” he agrees, curling his hands into the sweeping lapels of Dream’s coat and, allowing his eyes to finally close, drops his head against Dream’s shoulder. 

“We are only half done.” Dream says after several seconds of silence and stillness from Hob. 

Hob huffs against his neck. “You just wanna see me in my pants. Cheeky.” 

“You’re impossible.” Hob can hear the smile in Dream’s words. Smiles in return, hidden against his neck, as Dream’s hands snake around his back and hold him in a warm, impossibly fond embrace. And Hob melts against him a little further. 

“S’me. Impossible. Wearing a robe my love just conjured from the ether. Which is very normal.”

“I only wish for you to be comfortable.”

“I am, love,” he promises, voice soft, all fight and frustration drained from him. “So comfy. 'n I promise I’ll take off the trousers in a minute.” He sighs, deep and cleansing. “Can we just go to bed? I know it’s still early but fuck I’d love this day to be over.”

Dream’s hands press tighter against him, soothing up and down his back. “You will hear no complaints from me,” he murmurs against Hob’s temple, pressing a featherlight kiss into his hair.

#dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #sandman #sandman fanfic #my fic #fluffbruary #why not. itll be february again eventually

[waspredteeth]

I see a lot of confusion on why calling Damian Wayne "feral" is racist/problematic, so here's a rundown.

There's a difference between calling your child or your younger sibling "feral" and calling a character like Damian "feral." You know your child/sibling/niece/nephew etc. They're real people, and unless they have a problem with it personally, then there's nothing wrong with calling them feral as a joke. It doesn't (shouldn't) affect their perceptions by other people. It doesn't become a label that follows them.

Damian al Ghul-Wayne is a fictional character. A canonically mixed Arab/Chinese/Jewish White character with a history connected to some of the most prominent Arab comic book characters, who themselves also get insanely mischaracterized.

He's constantly whitewashed. He's been written with racist undertones (the suicide bomber vest). He's had his character development and progress backtracked time and time again by DC. DC treats him weirdly most days and completely shitty in the worst stories.

A good majority of fanon hasn't done any better than DC. You cannot pat yourselves on the back for being more inclusive or mental health aware than DC when you call a mixed Arab/Chinese boy "feral". It's constant. You can come up with various titles and nuances for every Bat-character, for every Robin.

Tim can be smart, a skater, a genius, the one holding everyone together, the little brother, the one who needs love. Jason can be cool, morally "right" or "wrong", unstable, PTSD-stricken, the one who was betrayed, the one with Shakespearean tragedies. Dick can be fun, happy, the first one, the prodigal son, the one with complicated history and the big brother.

You give them room for exploration. Love and care and attention and research. Many headcanons. You either comply with canon or you don't, but there's substance to their character.

What does Damian get? He's feral. He's rabid. He's a gremlin. He can't be reasoned with. He has no self-control, he's impulsive. He's hurt others, and you can't forgive it. Sometimes he's homophobic. Or classist. Or plain mean and rude to your favorite boy. He's always carrying a sword. A psychopath with no regard for another's well-being (usually Tim in a lot of fics). He can't be taught what's right.

I've seen people cry that Damian needs to punished or kicked out or treated the same way he's treated others. He needs to be brutalized or talked down to. He can never grow as a person, because he's mean to Tim or Jason, and you need him to exist as the abuser. His first move is always violent.

Fanon compares him to an animal often; he bites, claws, hisses, growls. Bruce or Dick or Jason or Tim have to wrangle him, tame him, civilize him the white man's way in lieu of his brown mother and grandfather who "clearly" raised him wrong. You don't see the issue with that? The issue with always labeling one of the few major brown characters in Batman comics as the unreasonable animal? That the child of color is always the abuser, the instigator, to older characters?

And even if you don't see him this way, you don't write him this way - then are you giving him the care and attention you give for other Bat characters?

Do you know anything else about him other than his "anger"? Because he isn't always angry. In fact, he's typically well-mannered. Quiet even, when he's not being provoked. DC's writing will always vary but whenever Damian lashes out, he's usually written with a reason to act the way he does.

Are you making him intelligent like he should be? A hard believer in redemption? A neglected and abused child who isn't meek or crying or closes himself within? Are you willing to explore that he's always exhibited the "wrong" kind of trauma responses - lashing out, being snippy, ruining relationships, refusing to admit weakness?

Do you write anything about him without making his mother and grandfather comically abusive and violent? Will you give him the supporting cast/friends he actually has? Can you write his dad/siblings interacting with him without making them white saviors or therapy pets? Can you write him without a ship or his love for animals or being vegetarian overshadowing everything?

Is he a character to you at all other than a glorified plot device with a sharp tongue and the convenience of being violent?

#damian wayne #dc #robin #damian wayne meta #dc meta #fandom needs to start interrogating their choices around non-white characters in general but especially when it comes to Batman comics #you may not intend to be racist or ableist or misinformed #but what you put out into the world is going to be seen by everyone #and you should very much reconsider doing things like calling Damian feral and implying he has zero self-control or civilization #or implying Duke is uneducated by hc'ing him with terrible handwriting or making him the “sane” one bc you haven't read any comics w him #or shoving Cassandra into a corner as a perfect unvocal specimen or making her a sentient therapy animal for your favorite white boy #or sexualizing Dick in obscene amounts and making him a “slut” when its against his entire character #its day in day out in this fandom when it comes to snubbing and being utterly wrong about characters of color #fandom critical #damian al ghul #a painted bird called tamer #batman #batman meta #tim drake #jason todd #dick grayson #cassandra cain #batfanon #bruce wayne

[penguinbuttcheeks]

Not a Woman - price x reader

summary: you get called to price’s office after a mission gone wrong in russia. after internalising your emotions for so long, you’re unable to hold back and finally reveal your deepest secret.

pairing: platonic!price x transmasc!reader

cw: mentions/hints towards sa, internalised transphobia (from reader), stereotyped sexism (cuz this is the military and the 141 boys would absolutely have some internalised misogyny ingrained in them)

word count: 3,079

A/N: there’s not really any fics out there targeted towards male readers, specifically trans men- and i wanted to write something (somewhat of a vent) about my own experience as a trans masc person.

this was originally posted on ao3, but i also wanted to post it here since i’ve gotten some good feedback and it boosted my confidence a bit :p

this is my first ever fic, so any feedback or tips would be super appreciated !!

After a particularly hard mission, you were called into Price’s office for a little chat.

The TaskForce's recent mission in Russia hadn't panned out as smoothly as he had hoped.

While the team's intel was thorough, word had gotten out that the 141 were planning to infiltrate a terrorist organisation from an unknown source. The plan had been disclosed before the group had even managed to reach their location.

It was complete and utter chaos. The entire team outnumbered with masses of last minute reinforcements.

The five of you barely made it out alive and Price now had the added stress of trying to locate the mole who had leaked highly confidential information from the TaskForce.

The following weeks succeeding the mission, your attitude had started to become short with some of your teammates and often ended in hostility.

The four men were starting to reach their limit, originally approaching you with care, however their patience soon ran thin. It was a draining mission for everyone after all.

Patience soon turned to agitation as each attempt to reach out to you was shut down. All that they had received in return were your harsh, snarky retorts and violent yells. Your behaviour was a stark contrast to the usually friendly and calm nature everyone at the base knew you for.

The taskforce Captain needed to check up on you - for the sake of his men, and for the sake of their own sanity.

Upon hearing the news that Price had called you to his office, you were immediately on high alert.

You weren't oblivious to your behaviour. Each attempt to open up to your comrades about any internal struggle that was so deeply buried was replaced with hurtful insults.

It hurt, but you knew they were hurting more.

You entered Price's office after knocking swiftly on his door with three simple knocks, his tired voice granting you permission to enter from inside.

Price had tried to approach the conversation professionally, tried to keep a level head, however when you snap at him in a sudden fit of anger - the calm, almost fatherly attitude is immediately gone.

“Don’t you dare raise your voice at me!” He growls, standing up from his desk. The palms of his hands pressed firmly in to the wooden table surface as he towered over you.

The anger in his eyes was palpable. Terrifying almost.

The hardened gaze you keep trained on Price falters slightly, a small flash of fear crossing your features before it's quickly buried away, trying to maintain a strong composure in the midst of your Captain's presence.

His expression doesn’t change, keeping his cold stare trained on you. A small part of him respects you for standing your ground but most of him is disappointed. Hurt.

“Do you have something you need to get off your chest, Sergeant? Something bothering you?” His voice is hard now as he glares down at you, his anger bubbling just below the surface as he watches you trying to maintain your facade.

Price is met with nothing but silence as he stares down at the soldier in front of him.

With your head held high and shoulders tightly squared - you simply glare back at him in defiance.

The office is eerily silent, the tense atmosphere could easily be cut with even the dullest of blades left discarded to be sharpened in the training room.

Time seems to still as the two soldiers stare each other down.

If it weren't for the emotional turmoil fogging your rationale you would be horrified by your lack of respect towards Price on any other day.

Despite your futile attempts to maintain your composure, hot, angry tears spring to your eyes, a heavy lump forming at the base of your throat.

It’s not long before they’re spilling over your cheeks. Fat, hot droplets dripping from your chin and leaving rain-like splatters on the tiled floor surrounding your feet.

Price’s expression immediately softens at the sight, the cold mask of his exterior cracking as the pain in his voice rises.

“Damnit…”

In one swift motion, the towering behemoth of a man is rounding his desk to stand in front of you, his concerned gaze never leaving your trembling form.

Despite the angry glare you shoot at him your tears never cease.

“What’s going on?” He asks sternly, his blue eyes filled with a flurry of numerous emotions. “What’s wrong?” He continues to press.

The cold front you try your best to maintain drops immediately, head hanging in defeat and burying deep in to the palms of your hands. You desperately try to wipe away the wetness on your cheeks, turning your body away in complete mortification.

One question was all it took. A simple inquiry on your wellbeing sent your defences crumbling to the ground.

Harrowing sobs and sloppy sniffles echo off the brick walls of the small, cluttered office. You whimper through your cries, teeth biting harshly in to your trembling lip in a desperate attempt to muffle any escaping sounds.

The display of vulnerability is humiliating.

“Hey… It’s okay.” He gently assures you, large palms rubbing against your shoulders in an attempt to calm you. He can sense your embarrassment and tries his best to put you at ease.

Any trace of his anger is immediately wiped from his demeanour, replaced with concern for the soldier stood before him.

“Just breathe for a moment”

He continues to stand beside you, his reassuring strokes along the tense muscles of your back slightly alleviating your distress.

“I want to know what I can do to help you.”

Price’s voice is gentle with a hint of unease.

“You can talk to me” he reminds earnestly. And what he says is true.

His priority as Captain has always been towards the wellbeing of his subordinates.

A deep sense of shame spreads through you at Price’s desperate attempts to try and break past the walls that had been so highly constructed around you.

You knew just how much your actions were hurting him.

You knew just how much your actions were hurting your comrades.

You knew just how much your actions were hurting yourself.

“I know!”

The sob that escapes is gut wrenching.

“I know I can talk to you- I know I should have, but I was scared- so embarrassed, so humiliated by what happened-" You're stumbling pathetically over your words as you try in desperate attempt to form the words that you want to say, but your mind is racing far too fast for you to keep up.

You sink to the floor on your hunches, your body curling in on itself- face still buried deeply in your hands.

"I'm so sorry!"

Price can't help but watch the scene unfold in bewilderment. In all the time you have worked together he had never seen such an intense display of emotions from you.

"I'm sorry I was so angry at everyone- so angry at you, my comrades, my family-" Each word is laced in despair at your confession.

It stabs deeply at Price when he realises just how much inner turmoil you have been struggling with.

The tall Captain crouches down on the ground beside you, lowering his level to meet your own.

A strong arm places itself around your small shoulders. It's clear with just how unsure his touch is that the situation is miles out of his comfort zone.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" He asks, his voice low. "I know you're embarrassed, but it's alright. Just take your time. Breathe."

He makes sure to assure you throughout your emotional distress, letting you curl up and continue to cry as you lean in to his words of support.

You slowly lower you shaking hands, peering up at Price who looks down at you with consideration.

Your eyes are red and puffy, cheeks flushed red and blotchy from your mourning.

"It was the mission in Russia" You begin to explain to Price, his gaze never leaving yours and his body turned to you in full attention.

Price's demeanour shifts as the memories of our recent mission flash through his mind. He was there leading charge and he recalls how brutal it was for all of his subordinates.

He nods his head in acknowledgement, listening thoughtfully to your words.

"Go on" He nods, urging you to continue.

You think back to the operation - recalling specifically the moment you had been separated from the group.

Price had chewed you out on the heli for going radio silent on the rest of the team while they furiously defended themselves against the never ending onslaught of enemies that never seemed to cease in their swarming.

No one knew what had happened when you were forced to go rogue, despite multiple attempts to draw the information out of you.

Eventually they had ruled it off, concluding that you were fine and simply agitated from stress - that it was what had resulted in so much tension between you and your comrades.

"I ran in to some trouble" you shakily exhale.

Price immediately recalls the incident, nodding again.

He is fully focused as he listens, silent as he prepares himself for what he's going to hear. Price can sense that this is a difficult topic based off your tone of voice alone.

An uneasy feeling settles in his stomach, realising that what you're going to say next is not going to be easy.

You didn't want him to know about the details of what went down and he gives you the space to open up on your own accord and choose for yourself what you're willing to reveal.

As quickly as your emotions had died down they start to build up again rapidly. The trembling in your body returning as you brace yourself for what you're finally about to reveal to your Captain.

"I tried to get away from them- I tried so hard" your voice quivers, barely above a whisper as your eyes clench shut. "There were so many of them, they wouldn't let go of me- they completely overpowered me."

He feels his heart drop.

Price's rhythmic strokes on your back freeze to a halt, the reality of your words sinking in.

He doesn't let you continue with the details. He doesn't want to force you in to that position of vulnerability.

The expression on his face immediately turns from sympathy to anger, his eyebrows curling down at the thought of what you had endured.

"I should have been able to fight back, or at least run away" You spit out angrily.

Your words snap Price back to reality, his train of thought abruptly coming to a halt at the realisation of your words.

"I'm a trained fucking soldier. It was pathetic" You sneer.

Your hard gaze is trained on the ground in front of you, tears still streaming down your face, leaving trails of silver streaks across your cheeks.

The expression on Price's face hardens as his large hand grips your shoulder tightly. He shakes his head sternly at you, speaking solemnly.

"You were attacked by a group of men. How the hell were you supposed to defend yourself while so heavily outnumbered?" He barks at you authoritatively.

Too many thoughts were swimming through Price's head for him to realise the harshness of his tone. He was horrified that this had happened under his command. Devastated that this had happened to one of his soldiers.

You lift your gaze to meet Price's once again.

"I've seen you do it. I've seen all of you do it" you hiss out in frustration.

So many times you've bared witness to your male comrades almost effortlessly fend themselves against multiple enemies with ease.

Deep down you knew it was a physical advantage. You were smaller, weaker in comparison to the rest of your team.

It made you feel repulsive.

"I'm a man," Price reminds you harshly, making you flinch. He doesn’t realise the impact of those three, simple words.

The anger in him is clear, but not towards you. He is furious that this had happened to you, and even more so that you were blaming yourself for something purely out of your control.

"Even the strongest of men would have struggled in your situation."

Your body is tense, jaw locking in anger as you coldly stare at Price's chest to avoid his gaze.

"I hate being a woman" you mutter. "I hate it. I wish I was stronger, that I was taller. I wish I could walk down the goddamn street by myself without being absolutely terrified of the men around me- I wish I was a fucking man!"

Your voice is desperate, growing louder as you gasp out each word of remorse for your gender.

His grip on your shoulder loosens, retreating back to his side as he takes in the desperation of your voice. He can see the struggle that lies behind your usually confident mask you wear so proudly every day.

It breaks his heart to see how much this affects you.

Price doesn't say anything, only listens as you release your frustrations without judgement. He doesn't want to interrupt you with words of comfort just yet. He can tell that this has been deeply concealed for far too long. His focus is completely on what you have to say, however harsh it may be.

"I never should have been born in this god forsaken body- I never should have been born a woman!" your hands tug at your hair furiously. "I hate it, I hate it, I hate it!"

Finally, after listening to your frantic outburst, Price steps in with a gentle voice. A combination of pity and sadness.

He hates seeing how much this attack has affected you, and is feeling a deep shame at his inability to protect you in your moment of need.

"Shh... you don't mean that" he coos softly, voice cracking slightly as he tries to control his own emotions.

"But I do!" You glare at the Captain that kneels before you. "Ever since I was a kid- I've despised myself for being a woman- for being born in this body" you fiercely seethe. "Why couldn't I have just been born a fucking man?" You slam your fist down in anger.

"No matter what I do. I can't love myself when I'm like this- when I'm a woman!" The word 'woman' spits venomously from your tongue, as if the very word itself felt like poison upon your lips.

Price feels a sting in his heart as your words hit him with such harshness and rage.

He had never imagined being so desperate for something, anything that would strip your confidence so brutally from your own body, that you'd learn to hate yourself so much that you wished you were something else. Price comes to the realisation that this stems much further than your assault.

He looks at the broken soldier in front of him. A soldier so ashamed and severred by a cruel hand that they were forced to live with.

A heavy silence hangs between them, all the while Price's eyes move analytically over your form.

"It's just something that I have to live with - something that I have to come to terms with."

You're nothing but defeated.

"I'll always be a woman, no matter what." you whisper dejectedly, staring blankly at the floor.

His eyes are locked on you and the pain across your face. He's torn between trying to ease your struggle, but not wanting to say anything until you are finished pouring out the pent up anger and hatred that you so desperately needed to.

When the room is silent, Price speaks up again, the words leaving his mouth almost instinctively.

"What if you didn't have to come to terms with being a woman?" Price inquires softly. "What if you accepted the fact that you're...." Price trails off, letting you take the initiative to finish his sentence. He doesn't want to step out of line with something so personal.

"That Im trans.." You quietly finish

He nods his head solemnly, taking a deep breath with you at the revelation.

The room is engulfed in silence once again. The admission alone is something you had buried away so deeply, something you never thought would ever leave the confines of your thoughts. Something that would never reach listening ears. It's almost surreal as you process your confession.

"You know that's not something you have to hide from us, right?" Price asks gently, shifting on his knees so that he was fully seated on the floor with you.

"Gaz, Ghost, Soap... We'll accept you for who you are and whatever you want to be. You don't need to live a lie" Price is tender with his approach.

He watches as you anxiously chew your lip, pulling your knees to your chest tightly.

Your eyes dart around the room, a small feeling of dread slowly creeping up your spine.

"I'll be the laughing stock of the base" you chuckle bitterly, though Price can tell that his suggestion to embrace your true self hasn't been fully shut down.

Like a terrified child, you curl in on yourself further, pressing in to a small, defensive ball.

"Do you really think we would let anyone treat you like that? If they so much as look at you funny, they will personally have to answer to me."

You smile gently at Price, feeling a sudden surge of affection for the man's protectiveness.

Price's shoulders relax slightly at the sight of your smile.

The two of you were a sight to behold, huddled on the floor of his office. It's almost comedic.

Feeling the stiffness in his body, Price slowly rises to his feet, a hand extended towards you to lift you off the floor with him.

You accept gratefully, standing shakily as your body groans in relief.

"Come on soldier," Price calls out to you, heading towards the door to his office.

"We have some arrangements to be made" He smiles at you warmly.

Your stomach flutters at your Captain's immediate acceptance. Just like that, no further discussion was needed

In this moment- you know that this is your chosen family.

This is the home that you deserve, and you were not going to let yourself feel like a stranger in it any longer.

You bite down your smile, nodding at Price as you follow after him and out of his office.

#cod #codmw #cod mw2 #cod mw3 #john price fanfiction #platonic john price #john price fluff #john price angst #price fluff #141 x reader #x reader platonic #x reader #price x reader #task force 141 #john price #captain john price #captain price #tf 141 #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #cod x reader #john soap mactavish #soap cod #kyle gaz garrick #gaz cod #platonic #fanfic #cod fanfic #call of duty #Spotify

[samodivaa]

frenzy of lust and sin 2〗

Part 1 Pairing: Instructor!Bucky x Recruit!Reader

Summary: During your training to become an agent, you've earned the moniker "Sergeant's girl" around the base—that doesn't give him the right to be possessive or jealous, but what gives you the right to be a brat? Warnings: sexual tension, age gap Words: 2.4k

Cause and effect are erratic. Sometimes the first precedes the second, sometimes the second the first. Or perhaps cause lies forever in the past while effecting in the future, but future and past are entwined.

“Is SHIELD so desperate that they allow to recruit women here?” 

Vlad says loudly, placing the glass down before bringing up his hand to rub his jaw as he chuckles. But nobody else on his table or the other dares to chuckle or laugh. As the room goes quiet, the man feels something like a touch of ice on his heart, like a recollection or, more exactly, a reminder, of something agonizing and revolting that is in that room now, at that moment, Bucky Barnes has heard him speak—he changes the expression of joy on his lips to one of alarm, but he doesn’t dare move from his seat. Someone makes his presence known, quiet thud of his boots cracking the stillness. The deathlike silence is broken—he seems petrified when he hears the melodious ringing sounds of Bucky’s dog tag chimes deep into his soul as if a funeral bell is ringing, pealing for his farewell. He puts the metal arm on the man’s shoulder—a beautiful yet deadly ornament, he can’t shake hands with the Devil and not get sulphur on his hands—his arm is a reminder not only to himself, but to others as well.

And some words set the devil’s creation which has been long caged, to come out roaring, dooming people to eternal perdition. Bucky’s expression is simple and confident, and his manners are always very polite and engaging. 

”I-I was just joking”   he pants, trembling while Bucky’s large blue eyes wander timidly over everyone in the room, the hollowness round them transforming to haggard wildness, the languid expression they usually possessed. Nothing happens. No words are needed, just one nod and one look with his predatory evil eyes. A warning. Bucky leaves the room. He never exhibits rudeness, loses control of himself, or turns violent. Not that easily.

“Vladimir, you don’t speak about the Sergeant's girl like that”    the man seating next to him says, shunning his puzzled gaze. “The Sergeant's girl?”    he asks, speaking short and with difficulty as shivers, and glances at his friend, half supplicating, half ashamed.

“Yeah, that's what we call her. You are on his blacklist now” “What does that mean?”   Vlad has an expression of agony, he seems convulsed with terror. He sinks in prostate of helpless fear, caused by his friend’s words and glance towards him, there is nothing else to produce such humiliation. He draws in his breath, strikes the table, and swears to himself. The other man is incapable of regarding the childish act with sternness, but he scowled at Vlad and mutters: “Well...that is for you to experience”

That fills Vlad with dread, no one has means of discerning, but there he is, powerless under the gripe of guilt. He shrugs his shoulders, shakes himself, indeed, as if his flesh creeps with aversion, and thrusts back his chair—he is deaf to every attempt at moving his sense of ego or pride.

============================== The same morning, rather afternoon, a different step approaches in the gym—heavier and longer, Bucky enters slowly and Vlad pursues his movements with apathetic eyes. The Sergeant makes no ceremony of greeting, availing himself of his privilege to walk straight in, without saying a word. His dark face is rather composed, his frame is scary, huge. Vlad rises with an impulse to dash out, when he sees him.

“Wanna spar?” Bucky demands sternly, supposing he can frighten Vlad by catching him thus, alone—Vlad perceives that the wretched creature has no power to sympathize with his mental torture since yesterday.

“No, thank-”     What a whining coward, Bucky thinks. “I am not asking” He invades Vlad’s personal, calmly, but only in appearance as his gaze fixes on the younger man’s features, his eyes that seem dilating with ecstasy. That radiant gaze makes his pulse seemingly imperceptibly stop and his soul departs. Vlad is a tall, athletic, well-formed man, beside whom, Bucky seems quite slender and youth-like, but no amount of muscles can outmatch decades of skill and murder. Bucky is brooding over the past sometimes, the strain of it is too much, but there is nothing that would make him escape from his old self altogether. Hydra taught him to endure, not to lose his temper easily—the best fighter is never angry, his actions are driven by a mechanical precision. Vlad’s self‐preservation rises up in him at once as Bucky comes closer and he looks at his instructor with questioning, suffering eyes, studies him, his face, uncertain if Bucky would strike or not. Vlad’s head is clouded with fear and regret, his faculties feel half asleep, but his eyes are fastened upon the older man. Ferocity still lurks in the ex Winter Soldier’s brows and his eyes full of black fire. 

Whatever has happened, Vlad exits trembling and scared—Bucky’s eyes are usually blue and in a certain light look soft, gentle, and even innocent. Then the light would change, the innocence would vanish, and the eyes look ice cold. This ferocity lurks yet in his angry browns and eyes full of black fire, but it is subdued when he realizes that he has a training session with you. ============================== You don't paint dreams or nightmares, you paint your own reality—but they don’t work unless you take action and you have the power to make it true. That’s how you ended up on the SHIELD’S training camp. All your life has been training—this is the final path before becoming a certified agent. And you have always been an object of discourse, as people might do at a strange repulsive animal—because you don’t have an ordinary childhood nor teen years. But despite that, you have proven yourself as one of the top recruits and yet, your dignity continues to be mocked, abused, compromised, toyed with, lowered and even bad-mouthed, but it can never be taken from you. You wear your skills like a suit of armor—in a dog-eat-dog field, you naturally lose parts of your humanity and emotions in order to survive.

The trashy rumors flourish like a weed—even though you were not there, you knew exactly what was said and what happened earlier in the day. You are grateful for Sergeant Barnes. For protecting your mind. Protecting your value, trying to create peace in your day to day life at the base. He doesn’t let you be exposed to mockery, shame, counterfeit friends or allies, even defending you even in your absence—but now it is different, you see it as a way to show all startling demonstrations of feeling—possessiveness, it makes you experience irresistible attraction towards Bucky, you have not been aware that your attachment has been rising unsolicited since you heard the rumor about Vlad, but for the minute you discover its’ existence, you lay all the blame on him. 

Pushing open the door to your room, you look at yourself in the mirror. Your face looks drawn. Tired. Because you have four different courses and it is hard to keep up sometimes. And all those terrible words are inked all over your skin. The scars, the struggles and all the names of those men who have done you wrong. But it makes you unstoppable and much more proud of your journey, how far a woman like yourself has improved, amongst all those people. Reaching for the cropped sweatshirt over the table, you head out of your room—you can’t wait for the training session with Bucky. It is nerve racking, knowing what you wear underneath. But you don’t flatter under pressure easily, you thrive. ============================== As you enter the training room, Bucky’s expression is serious and his cock twitches when he sees you—you love how his eyes soften slightly when he looks at you. The way he looks at you is always different than anyone else—but it all makes sense. From everyone else’s perspective it looks like he is being protective, but it is not just that—it is so much more than that. His throat bobs as you approach him towards the bench he is sitting on, just to surprise him and take a seat on the floor, right in front of his legs. “I'm tough, I could have handled the new guy by myself later” He is pressing his lips together, avoiding a smile. “I know you are” “That guy can’t even bruise my ego, I could have beaten the shit out of him” You force a grin, peering at him through your lashes which makes his blue eyes spark. You undress your cropped sweatshirt slowly, making sure he is looking at your cleavage which is purposely pushed up by a sport bra that you chose. His gaze drops from your eyes, to the swell of your chest—you bite back the disgust at how predictable he is. He even licks his lips. Your chest tightens and you bite your lip to hide the grin wanting to escape. “Well, you can practice on me today”  His eyes glow dark, his vibranium fingers tapping against the metal bench. For a slight second, confusion spreads on your feathers, brows drawing inwards and eyes moving back and forth as if you are trying to solve an invisible puzzle. But it all lasts for a moment as that looks vahines, eyes clearing as a smile spreads across your face. Blowing out a heavy breath, you stand up and stare at him—his lips twitch into a ghost of a smile. “Yeah, let’s do it”

He narrows his eyes before standing up and cracking his neck, taking in your perfect look—you are always put together, but today, you look a little extra, revealing more of your body than usual. “After you”    he says as his eyes follow you turning and heading to the mats. He breathes in deeply, trying to find a sense of calm. Anything to keep his mind away from the simmering feelings bubbling underneath his skin.

Get it together, Barnes 

==============================

Bucky loves to go to the gym at night. It's quiet. So quiet that he can almost hear other people's dreams he wishes he has. He stands weary and motionless before the window, gazing at the feathery clouds gliding around the moon which is by no means a waste of time when suddenly a faint rustle makes him turn round. You enter the gym, walk towards him until you are standing before him. His lips are pressed tightly together and twitching at the corners. For ten full seconds he looks at you in the eyes in silence with a firm relentless gaze as your fragrance touches him—healing and breaking him once again. 

“How do you know that I come to the gym at night?” You only stare at each other for a second longer and when your breath begins to slow beneath his penetrating eyes, you force words past your lips:

“Found a reason to practice my spying skills” you pursue anxiously. “Then why do I know that you came by three times this week?” Horror gradually passes from your countenance, the paleness gives place to a glow of your shame. Something has shifted between you, faintly, but the change is almost palpable. Your friendship has sat lightly between you, an ephemeral thing, without weight or gravity. But since you have learned that he has feelings for you—you are bolder in the pursuit of more. More of what? More of him? More of this side of him? Your body unwillingly tilts forward, unable to resist his gravitational pull. 

“If you knew, why did you let me do it?” A corner of his lips tips up “Following me like a stalker makes me feel special” Bucky says with a timid tone as he continues to stay still in his place, looking at you with a strange, bewildered expression, as though he is trying to collect his thoughts, and can’t. His mind is a prey to lust, which sets all the muscles of his face quivering. There is some damage to his soul this time, the lack of sleep showing underneath his eyes. He smiles absently. You are like a siren, singing to his shipwreck—he loves your songs.

“You are already special” you chastise. His shoulders pull taut. “I am one hundred and six…and you are, what, eighteen?”

“Nineteen” you release a shallow breath “How old were you when you were presumed dead?” And there is, Bucky fears, both your boldness and naivety—your desire, failing to guard you against your own deceits. Nefarious young woman with logic of your own. These necessities of upspringing in the seed, these beautiful determinations, on the part of a possible relationship entertained, to grow as tall as possible, to push into the light and the air and thickly flower of love.

—Nefarious young woman.

“About 30”   His hand muscles flex as he takes your hand in his, and bid you be composed, for a succession of shudders convulses your frame. He lifts his gaze and meets yours and you realize that never before has silence seemed to have its own sound. Like a buzzing hive of bees, it settles on his mind with ferocity, making you tremble. Things are blurry for a second, and at first you don't believe that he is really touching you. “You are so persistent, kotyonok, but you need to get some sleep.”

His eyes are nearly black, the pupils dilated. He can see it takes every last bit of your terrible will for you to remain still beneath his touch. And yet, you do not pull away. You know it is the best he can offer. It is not enough. He drops your hand. You take a deep breath. He still dwells in your soul, but it leaves you both sparkling and broken, because he is warning you away from him.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes x female reader

[bones4thecats]

Their S/O Is A Slayer's Ancestor

Type of Writing: Random Idea Name: Their S/O Is A Slayer's Ancestor Characters: Kokushibo, Douma, Akaza, and Gyutaro Idea-Giver: Random Thoughts

A/N: Because the reader is placed in a ranking of another character's, the others moons are pushed down a rank, with Gyutaro and Daki being uppermoon 7 in each part. This may not be my best piece, but I do hope you guys enjoy it! Have a great rest of your days/nights!

⚠️ TW: Slight swearing, mentions of death, violent actions, and gore ⚠️

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Uppermoon 2! Reader ; Ancestor to Himejima Gyomei

🌘 These damned crows were starting to annoy you more than anything ever

🌘 Hearing the constant croaks of the birds was only pressuring you to the point of using your blood demon art - which was to create boulders of different sizes and masses - smashing at someone, to the max

🌘 But now with these slayers coming in from all corners, and with them now attacking at full-strength, Kokushibo was even becoming annoyed at them

🌘 And the certain duo that were attacking you just glared and let out a large amount of swears, much to your agitation

🌘 Though, the larger-built hashira seemed familiar

" Himejima-Sensei! Boulder on your left! "

🌘 Himejima…? He's… he can’' be…

🌘 You then froze in place as memories began to wash over your brain, though the faces of the males and females were all blurry except for one… a young baby with gorgeous black hair, he looked so similar to him… because he as a part of his lineage

" Himejima…? You can't be… " " What shit-stained nonsense are you spilling from your mouth, demon?! " " You’re my boy descendant's kin, aren't you? "

🌘 Gyomei froze in place as Kokushibo stood beside you with his sword drawn and ready for any incoming attack from the other three slayers

" Gyomei… you're related to that thing?! " " You- you're Y/N L/N? "

🌘 Well… this just got awkward

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Uppermoon 3! Reader ; Ancestor to the Kocho Sisters

🧊 You sat as the wind flowed through your hair, sending the long locks in the direction of the sakura trees, a frustrated expression laid on your face as your spouse walked through the doors

" My love? Why are you still sitting there? The sun will be rising soon, we wouldn't want you burning alive, now would we? " " Douma… is it true you killed the Flower Hashira today? "

🧊 Looking at you with slightly widened eyes, Douma chuckled and rubbed his neck

" Well- I mean, yes. Why, love? "

🧊 Standing up, your large black butterfly wings spread out as your kimono began to rapidly flow in the sudden burst of wind caused by your anger

" You killed my descendant, you insolent moron! Can you not use your brain for a few seconds before killing a woman?! Good gods! "

🧊 Douma stared at you in shock, you had never been so mad at someone - well, other than Gyokko when he dared to call your care for your deceased and ongoing family line to be disgusting

🧊 He held his head down as his heart squeezed lightly in his chest

🧊 How could he have not seen the slight similarities, the long hair style, the similar eyes, hell, the girl even had a similar ability; controlling something nature related

" Y/N, I am sorry for not thinking more. But, please understand, she was going to kill me then you! I cannot let anything harm the one being I have ever felt for throughout my centuries of life. "

🧊 Nodding lightly as the wind calmed and vines receded down into the ground, you buried your face into the second uppermoon's chest as he cooed and hugged you

🧊 If only you knew what awaited you both years later…

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Uppermoon 4! Reader ; Ancestor to Insouke Hashibira

❄️ Akaza was starting to get worried, he had been searching for you for hours. The last he had seen of you, you had argued with Douma, resulting in him cutting your eye, making you scream and run off in anger and terror

❄️ As he flung himself through the trees of the nearby forest and landing on the ground, Akaza began to hear a melody being sung

" As a souvenir from her hometown, what did she give you? A toy drum and a small bamboo flute. "

❄️ He noticed that you were singing while looking down at a small gravestone, engraved into it was a name he was far from familiar with, at least from a distance

❄️ As he got closer, the letters became more familiar; Kotoha Hashibira - Loving mother and outstanding daughter of M/N and F/N Hashibira, granddaughter of M/N and F/N L/N, and Great-granddaughter of M/N and Y/N L/N

❄️ His eyes widened; this woman was your great-granddaughter, but why were you crying over her, and how did you remember her so well? You have been a demon for quite a while, maybe around 80 or so years now, and memories normally go away after mere hours

❄️ Your sobs were hurting his heart, and as he stepped closer, he began to hum the melody as you continued to sing, your tears falling into the ground as you finished for the fourth time

" Why did that bastard have to harm her? She did nothing wrong… " " Did one of the moons kill her, love? " " Douma… he just- he killed her without giving her the chance of running away with him… Inosuke. " " Inosuke? " " Her son. She had thrown him down a cliff and into water, but- I don’t know if he survived or not… he’d be sixteen now if he did. Oh lord, I hope he lived. "

❄️ Looking down at the stone and back at you, he ran to the field and grabbed a flower before putting it into your hair as you cried into his shoulder

❄️ He was going to have to speak to Douma later. That guy needs to explain his doings in more detail.

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Uppermoon 3! Reader ; Ancestor to Kyojuro Rengoku

🩸 The sounds of grunts and screams were echoing throughout the Infinity Castle, alarming every inhabitant besides Muzan Kibutsuji, who knew what was going on, he always kept tabs on his subjects

🩸 Gyutaro looked up in shock as he heard a door open and a loud crash, and as he looked up, he noticed that Daki was staring in shock as you stood there, your eyebrows furrowed as your yellow and red hair flared up in flames

🩸 Looking to his right he saw Akaza, the man a rank below you in uppermoon 4, and he could tell just from a glance how bloodied he was, after all, there were cuts and holes gushing blood throughout his frame

🩸 This was even to much for Gyutaro to look at

" You killed him, you sick fucker! " " Who in the world are you talking about, Y/N?! " " You killed Kyojuro! He was my descendant, you shithead! He was supposed to fight me, not your pink-haired ass! "

🩸 The rest of the moons who were summoned there watched as you grabbed Akaza and burned him with your Blood Demon Art, and they could all tell you were beyond speaking to

🩸 Only Muzan was capable of calming you in this situation - well, him and Gyutaro, but he was getting more nervous with every passing second

🩸 You eventually let Akaza go and allow your flame-coded hair to fall back down as your anger began to subside, allowing the uppermoon to stand up and start healing himself as you just stared at him blankly

" If you ever dare lay your hands on any Rengoku member again, I will not stop burning you until you become a pile of ash and blood, like the hand you left in Kyojuro's stomach. Understood, Akaza? " " Understood, Rengoku-sama. " " Good. "

🩸 You then walked away and wrapped your arms around Gyutaro's extremely malnutritioned form, a small amount of warmth radiating off of your body from the previous rage

🩸 Gyutaro sighed and hugged you back, knowing his comfort was beyond yours right now. Your rage was far scarier than Muzan's - well, it was close to it, but still!

🩸 You merely hummed and asked Nakime to send you both back to your selected room in the Castle, and the other moons noticed how shaky she was when striking the cord on her biwa to send you away

🩸 Thank goodness he was in the Entertainment District at the time of this Kyojuro guy's death, he didn't wanna be on the other end of his lover's anger. That wouldn't be the best for the poor guy

#Demon Slayer #Kimetsu no Yaiba #KnY #KnY Demons #Uppermoons #Demon Slayer x Reader #Kimetsu no Yaiba x Reader #KnY x Reader #KnY Demons x Reader #Uppermoons x Reader #S/O! Reader #GN! Reader #Demon! Reader #Uppermoon! Reader #Kokushibo #Kokushibo x Reader #Douma #Douma x Reader #Akaza #Akaza x Reader #Gyutaro #Gyutaro x Reader