#like not even in a way where i don't trust them & us to work through this but i'm just like. at the end of the day i guess i AM a romantic

[immafuneral]

I genuinely hope you don't mind me adding onto this post, but- On one hand, I really want to agree with this- I think it's so important to give people grace and the room and space to learn and grow, sometimes people aren't hateful, they're just uneducated and underexposed. Sometimes we ARE responsible for holding their hand through it and teaching them with kindness, patience and empathy. Do we owe it to them? No. But that's the only way that we're going to see positive change in people. No, it's not always going to work, it's not a guarantee, sometimes you ARE just wasting your energy on someone who will always choose hate and ignorance... But shame and rejection only pushes people further into stronger belief in the extremes they're being taught... Meaning to say, it goes both ways. On the other... I don't know man, I'm so tired. It's so hard to hold onto that belief when living in the US right now. It's so hard to tell myself that people need grace, they need help to improve, they need compassion- Proof that we aren't everything the truly hateful bigots say we are. I'm so angry, at the people who chose that fucking fascist as our president not out of hatred but out of ignorance, because that DOES make them just as bad. Their decisions have still lead to me living with the fear that I am going to be killed, alongside everyone I love... I think about how many of them might NOT have voted for him if they had someone in their life who was willing to empathize with and explain to them what they were actually choosing. When we treat it like- "Well they should have known!!- It should have been common sense!!!" Or "That's what we've been screaming about throughout the campaign!" Spreading that information is not the same as being with someone and walking through it on an individual, compassionate way. The same way your parents ask you things and you get frustrated at them because, why can't they just google it? They could google it, sure, and that might be a lot more convenient for you, because YOU'RE just going to google it.. But they're asking you because you're someone they trust and google is overwhelming to someone who isn't used to having this much information in their face, at their fingertips, all at once. They don't have the ability to discern reality from unreality on the internet. Why would the things they're reading, the news articles (propaganda) and posts they're seeing be untrue? But, unlike the Christian Missionaries, I live in a world where letting people outside of my bubble into my life is genuinely putting me at risk for being who I am- And I know that a lot of people feel the same right now. So where to we find the balance? How do we decide when it's safe, and when it's not safe? When do we have to decide that we do it anyway? Even if we know we're taking a risk?

So, you know how certain Christian missionaries are trained to act in a very obnoxious way, so that most people they preach to will reject them outright, so they feel like the world hates them for being Christian and they can only be friends with fellow Christians? You know that thing?

I think as activists, we sometimes need to stop and ask ourselves whether we're acting like those missionaries. I think this type of behavior is a little more ingrained into our society than some of us realize, and some of us have internalized it without realizing what it's actually meant to do.

[callahanisms]

college au caitlyn

i finally watched arcane after a lot of convincing from my friends and a determination to see how badly s2 butchers s1's themes. and uh caitlyn's my problematic fave unfortunately.

college au caitlyn? yes. and she wants you. 🫵 yes you specifically.

these are my headcanons. you don't have to agree with them.

accompanying bot: 🫐

banner by @cafekitsune

🫐 | piltover national university (pnu) is not cheap. even for piltovians, getting a higher education makes a massive dent in their back accounts. if you're from piltover, you're well off enough to sustain yourself. if you're from zaun, you worked your butt off to be here.

🫐 | college is really where many piltovians, caitlyn kiramman included, finally get outside of their comfort zone. they start to learn things. and caitlyn begins to finally interact with people outside of her circle.

🫐 | double majoring in poli-sci and anthropology. she enjoys the subject of anthropology. but her mother wants her to do poli-sci. who is she to deny her mother?

🫐 | basketball player. she's tall, she did it in high school and continues to do it. it's an excuse to get out of the house and to stop burying her nose in books. her height also makes her perfect for reaching for things on high shelves if you need her help.

🫐 | as a roommate, caitlyn has a strict schedule. she likes to keep things tidy and neat. and she has no hesitation cleaning your side of the room as well if it gets dirty or out of hand. (also definitely has you use coasters on the wooden desks of the dorm)

🫐 | massive workload. honestly kind of unbearable but she's one of those people that just powers through it. she has expectations to meet. and her fear of failing them is what drives her to be hunched over the desk, late at night, with the light on while you're trying to sleep.

🫐 | you guys met in one of your gen ed/core classes. maybe you both are the opposite. or maybe you guys share a major. either way, you become friends because you asked her if she wanted to get lunch with you afterwards. she was also smart, so studying with her and peering over at her notes was always a perk.

🫐 | definitely obsessive. caitlyn has always struggled with friends. the kiramman name doesn't exactly lend to the most fruitful friendships. and yet here you are. attractive, a bright smile. she finds herself missing you.

🫐 | so what if she stalks your hexgram account? she's just looking out for you. that girl on the basketball team? yeah. she's not the most reliable. maybe you shouldn't go on a date with her. or that guy who's a poli-sci major. don't trust poli-sci majors (except herself of course).

🫐 | at some point caitlyn recommends you guys move in together. like move in off campus. she can take care of the rent no problem. she has money. she wants to take care of you after all. and despite your objections, she convinces you to live with her.

🫐 | and even though you live together, it's simply not enough. her mind runs rampant with fantasies of domesticity. and crap, she just wishes you guys were together. and she misses you when you're out of the house. and maybe it's a problem that she's always checking your social media when she's bored in class or losing focus while studying. she likes to call those her "study breaks."

[t-u-i-t-c]

"He's got his hands on our wheels, and we've got nowhere to go as a result."

[gayfranzkafka]

(insane post incoming) okay i've been a taylor swift re-recordings hater since the beginning but the Speak Now re-recording is making me INSANE i think it's partially just that i'm having a weird time emotionally anyway but like "Timeless" made me TEAR UP like bro WHAT like something about it being soooo essentially of that era but new like the novelty of it BONKED me over the head with a reminder of what it felt like to hear all those songs off Speak Now for the first time when i just had this IDEA of what love was & hadn't actually experienced it yet (& wouldn't for many years!!) like way before i even knew i was a lesbian just listening to taylor sing "enchanted" alone in my bedroom wondering who the guy she was singing about was & if she ever saw him again (because i was #blessed to not have internet access and therefor not know it was the dude from owl city she was singing about alsdfhaklsdhfasdh) & i remember just pouring through the little lyric booklet & its pictures & intro & mostly it was just me & the music & this picture of her in a ballgown in my head & this made up but hopeful romantic idea of what love is and like S C R E A M

[shortmomma1993]

Yes! I love this. Someone seeing her complexities and understanding her but not making it an excuse. Dont apologize i love it when someone can see my reasonings for my characters being the way they are! She went from being a good mom to being so spread thin she became a door mat and just chooses to make her kids happy. Even if it hurts others around them. I might develop her character through healing and therapy. Because I don't WANT her to be a bad mom. But I also want the effects of her bad parenting to show through her kids. Ariah can be a brat to her. Not hearing no she takes advantage of her. She KNOWS she can get away with anything with Ayuda. And Hoppy has said no, but she knows if she can convince Ayuda, then Ayuda will convince Hoppy. So she works that system. Lol Evelyn is violent. And she doesn't trust anyone, not even her mom's, to not just die, so she pushes everyone away or uses violence to show love or to defend herself. Evelyn gets overlooked, too. She has attacked Ariah only because she doesn't want Ariah to get too close to her, but there have been times where she has put herself between Ariah and danger and has shown that she is willing to die for Ariah. But she WANTS Ariah to be too scared to love her. So when she looses Ariah (to death or abandonement) it won't hurt either of them as much. The only people who can get close is Jax and Hoppy. But she is only violent and doesn't show her true self to Jax. She hides who she really is unless she's around Hoppy. And that's because as much as she doesn't want to admit it, she loves her mom. And she knows that no matter how much she pushes her away, it'll still hurt when Hoppy dies. Because that's her mom. So she has excepted that. And Hoppy is the only one who's seen her silly loving side. But like Ariah she also knows Hoppy won't say no to her, so she uses that to convince Ayuda of things.

*come into room and looks sad* P-Pomni?

*looks up from her diary and friends* what's wrong-?

[luminni]

Simon has a favorite jumper. It's simple, black wool, fits him well, and he wears it all the time. Only problem is, he wears the thing all the time. He's had the thing for years and it's practically all he wears when he's on leave. By this point, the poor thing is threadbare, little holes around the armpits, the neckline, and the cuffs. It's pilling everywhere and it's covered with dog hair (from where, he has no clue).

You loved the jumper on him, he looked fantastic in it, but even you could see the thing was in a dire situation.

"Simon?" You questioned, holding up the jumper in your arms, folding it after its last round in the wash (which it mercifully survived).

"Yeah?"

"Have you ever...thought about getting this thing dry cleaners?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Don't trust 'em, they'll ruin it."

It was a simple answer, one that told you the subject wasn't up for debate. But just because he didn't trust the dry cleaners with his jumper didn't mean he wouldn't trust anyone with it. And there was no one he trusted more than you.

...

Simon came home from his last deployment late into the night, trudging through the front door and setting his bag down as gently as possible as to not wake you. Toeing his shoes off and finally being able to tug off his mask, he couldn't wait to get out of the rest of his gear.

Stepping lightly through the house, dodging the floor boards he knew were going to be squeaky on his journey to the bedroom. Ready to join you in bed the moment he got into a pair of sweat pants.

When he opened the bedroom door however, he did not find you tucked away in the covers. You were crouched on the floor, humming along to quiet music playing on a small speaker. And you were bowed over that black jumper of his.

"Love?"

"Oh! Simon you're home!" You squealed, jumping up and throwing yourself into his arms, snuggling your face into his chest and drinking in the scent you had been without for so long like you could get drunk off it, and in many ways you could.

"Hey there sweet'art" he cooed, practically purring it into your ear and enclosing you in a big bear hug. "What'er ya' up to?"

"Oh just..." you turned back around, anxiety lacing your voice, "doing a little repair work." You handed him his black jumper, folding it into his hands.

He could believe his eyes, it was smooth like it was new, no pills of fabric clinging to it. The tiny, threadbare areas and holes were patched up. Now, perfectly matched black wool was weaved in to fix it. He stared at you, wide eyed, in disbelief while you just grinned nervously. He brought it up to his face, no dog hair to be seen and it smelt like you had just picked it up off the shelves.

He kept on staring at you "how..?"

"I just," you turned back around, grabbing the sweater trimmer, the replacement wool, the sweater scent spray, and the lint roller, all in your hands. "Used a couple things" You grinned

Simon could have sworn he never felt this way before. There was this weird tightness in his chest, it felt like it was going to explode. He had owned that sweater when he Tommy was still alive, that sweater had seen the first pub crawl with the 141 boys, he wore it on your first date. The sweater was more than just something he wore often, it was his good memories wrapped up into one piece of soft and comfortable wool. His arms moved before he could stop them and he buried you in another hug, squeezing you (and his jumper) into him.

"Oh- Simon!" You giggled, dropping your supplies.

He buried his nose into you shoulder, lifting you up into him, off your feet.

"Thank you," he murmured, voice cracking a bit, "thank you."

[brick-van-dyke]

A little ramble about Socialist Alternative, leftist radicalisation and privilege. Mostly a vent of sorts so it's going to be messy.

//TW: mentions of suicidal thoughts, effects of capitalism on mental health and physical health, mentions of systematic abuse and oppression, etc.

"What radicalised you?"

If you're familiar with Australian leftist politics or just been to an Australian university, you've probably heard this line from Socialist Alternative at some point, particularly if you're a young leftist. At first, I personally didn't know how to answer this, but now? Now I do:

That's the wrong question, it's not about what radicalised me, it's about when I realised I wasn't allowed to exist. I think my main distrust of socialist alternative can be drawn here, as much as I respect their activism (as much as I don't like certain other parts of it and the organisation itself because of how it functions and is set up, among other things) and how they've helped the movements around me grow, I don't like their ethics because it always centres on feeling in the right when, honestly, that isn't what this fight was ever about. It's not simply about what pushes people to some realisation that capitalism isn't working, for many of us, it's about realising when we noticed that we were broken clogs that would always be discarded; realising that we wouldn't even live past 30 in a system that sees us as faulty parts and that'll end with us either starving to death or choosing to kill ourselves to have some semblance of control in a system that is so damning that it actively tries to kill us. And no I'm not even exaggerating, especially when it comes to disability and generally most marginalised groups. It's actively hostile to people like us.

This is taking out one strong example for myself here, but I just feel like every interaction has had an undertone of not really understanding the gravity of what's at stake on an individual level. I think, like Marx, they really don't have anything to lose but their chains, but for the rest of us? We have our lives, something I think others just can't quite comprehend here when I say being anti capitalist isn't a political choice, it's a matter of life or death because here just isn't any other option in order to survive. Don't get me wrong, I agree with Marx on many things, but I do think there's a difference between able bodies, white, middle class activism because capitalism is uncomfortable compared to when you're a minority that's doing this to be allowed to exist, and specifically I think there's a powerful element of privilege that's ignored, especially in the case of socialist alternative. Again, I respect their activism, but this dynamic of power and push being from a white, abled and middle to upper class lens (yes there are people who are minorities within the org, but they don't hold power and much say imo) has led to, in my view, a distorted sense of reality and, more pressingly, policy and vision that is about saving the working class rather than making a world where labour isn't a price you have to pay in order to be allowed to exist. It's not just the exploitation of the working class, though that's a huge part of it, it's also how hostile this system is to people who can't be used; who can't work or who are seen as dirty or wrong for trying to.

So when asked "so, what radicalised you?" I can only really think to reply with "when I realised that wanting to die wasn't my fault, but the people around me that convinced me that my lack of ability to produce is somehow my fault and that I somehow don't deserve basic survival". Because that's the reality and I think, at least with the SAlt members I've spoken to, that isn't something that's really understood; the gravity of this situation on a personal level and that it's not as simple as doing something to make yourself feel good or to have a moment of pride, sometimes (or oftentimes) it's literally survival.

Most of all, I think what cements this for me is the reply I get to when I've asked (genuinely and in good faith) about allegations about their internal environment being "toxic" and "cult like" and, as I explained to them, this is from many different people from different friend groups who all don't know each other but have had he same experiences:

"They're just jealous of us and our activism."

But jealous of what? In a fight for survival, none of us have the opportunity to feel jealous over how it's done because this isn't about feeling a bit better, it's about being allowed to exist. I think this really is what made me realise that this isn't about the right to live for them, but the ability to feel good for fighting on the behalf of people like me and my friends. And, to me, that's something to have healthy caution over when pity is how people have tried to control minorities in the past, and in my own personal experience.

[catmask]

tbh when i hear some people talk about 'breaking cycles of abuse', it becomes clear pretty quickly who has come to understand that phrase to mean 'since i was a victim of abuse/neglect by my parents/caretaker/s i will do everything to be nothing like them' and that is all. its not a completely flawed way of thinking either - something that hurt you would very likely hurt someone else; through empathy we learn to understand not to hurt others the way we were hurt too.

but what 'breaking cycles' looks like is more complicated than just not being your parents/caretakers - it's about recognizing how the things that happened to you changed you and how you can heal so you don't hurt someone else in turn. the survival skills you learned in an unhealthy enviroment often translate to poor if not unhealthy interpersonal skills in an enviroment where things ARE safe.

its a difficult pill to swallow for a lot of survivors of abuse (trust me, i know) because we have a tendency to simply want our pain to be recognized. by painting yourself as "absolutely nothing like my abuser" you can abstain from recognizing your own harmful tendencies and live comfortably in the role of victim hood for the rest of your life. it can be tempting to do this especially when so many people will do their best to deny what you experienced - almost like leaning into a stuck door that just won't budge.

the problem with this is if you never recognize that being mistreated made it so you LACK a lot of what other people learned from a loving enviroment, you can hurt people pretty badly even when doing your best just not to replicate what your parents/caretakers got wrong.

this also hurts for victims because, when it comes down to it - it's not FAIR. you were hurt for no reason, and most of us will never hear an apology or even admittance from the person who did it - so why do YOU have to change? why do YOU, the person hurt unjustly, have to put in the work?

and i mean. that's what breaking a cycle is. it means pushing against what's fair and comfortable deliberately so that you can stop something that's been repeating. it's work. its not just recognition of pain, it's the purposeful healing and treatment of it. but thats scary, and it's not fun, so a lot of people fall right back into it. its a lot easier said than done.

[inkskinned]

what is with men being mad any time a woman raises her voice where did that even come from. someone posted a video of a small electrical explosion, and the top comment was of course the woman screams. the second comment is women try not to scream challenge, level impossible. i had to go back and watch the video again. there is, somewhat fainty, a little gasp emitted off-camera, more of a yelp than a scream. it is mostly lost in the crack of the explosion. afterwards, you hear her voice, shaken, say, are you okay?

i am helping one of my friends train her voice pitch lower, because she wants to be taken seriously at work. she and i do each other's nails and talk about gender roles; and how - due to our appearance - neither of us have ever been able to be "hysterical" in public. we both appear young and sweet and feminine. she is cisgender, and cannot use her natural voice in her profession because people keep saying she appears to be "vapid". we both try to figure out if our purposeful voice lowering is technically sexist. is it promoting something when you are a victim to it?

a storm almost sends a pole through a car window. in the dashcam, you can hear the woman passenger say her partner's name twice, crying out in alarm. she sounds terrified. in the comments, she is lambasted for her lack of calm. how is that even fucking helping?

in high school, i taught myself to have a lower voice. i had been recorded when i was genuinely (and righteously) upset; and i hated how my voice sounded on the phone speakers when it was played back. i was defending my mom, and my voice cracked with emotion. it meant i was no longer winning the argument: i was just shrieking about it.

girls meet each other after a long summer and let out a little joyful scream. this usually stops around 12-14, because people will not tolerate this display of affection (as it has the effect of being passingly annoying). something about the fact that little girls can't ever even be annoying. we are trained to examine each part of our lives (even joy) for anything that could make us upsetting and disgusting. they act like teenage girls are breaking into houses and shrieking you awake at 3 in the morning. speaking as a public school educator: trust me, it's not that bad, you can just roll your eyes and move on. it does not compare to the ways boys end up being annoying: slurs in graffiti, purposefully mocking your body, following you after you said no. you know, just boy things.

there's another video of a man who is not allowed to yell in the house, so he snaps his fingers when he's excited about soccer. the comments are full of angry men, talking about how their brother is unfairly caged. let him express himself and this is terrible to do to someone. eventually the couple has to address it in a second video: they are married with a newborn baby. he was trying not to wake the infant up. there is no comment on the fact women are not allowed to yell indoors. or the fact that it could have been really alarming or triggering for his wife. sometimes i wonder if straight men even like women, if they even enjoy being in relationships with them.

for the longest time, i hated roller coasters because it always felt inappropriate and uncomfortable for me to scream. one of my friends called me on it, said it was unusual i'm so unwilling. i had to go to my therapist about it. i don't like to scream because i was not raised in a safe situation, and raising my voice would have brought unsafe attention towards me. even when i am supposed to scream, it feels shameful, guilty. i was not treated kindly, so i lack a basic form of self-protection. this is not a natural response. it is not good that in a situation of high adrenaline - i shut up about it.

something very bad is happening, i think. in between all the beauty standards and the stuff i've already discussed - this one feels new and cruel in a way i can't quite express. yes, it's scary and silencing. but there's something about how direct it is - that so many men agree with the sentiment that women should never yell, even in an emergency - it feels different.

is the word shriek gendered automatically? how about shrill or screech? in self defense class, one of the first things they tell you is to yell, as loud and as shrilly as you can. they say it will feel rude. most women will not do this. you need to practice overcoming the social pressure and just scream.

most women do not cry out, even when it's bad. we do not report it. we walk faster. we do not make a scene. what would be the point of doing anything else? no matter what we do, we don't get taken seriously. it is a joke to them. an instagram caption punchline. we have to present ourselves as silent, beautiful, captivating - "valuable."

a woman is outside watching her kids when someone throws a firecracker at them. she screams and runs towards her children. in the comments, grown men flock together in the thousands: god. women are so annoying.

[flowersforbucky]

down bad

bucky barnes x reader

word count: 3.9k

author's note: i couldn't stop thinking about bucky being able to use his metal hand as a vibrator and therefore this was born.

warnings/tags: SMUT, oral (female receiving), fingering, bucky being used as a human vibrator, multiple orgasms, language, consumption of alcohol, reader is afab, no use of y/n, slightly possessive bucky, 18+ only

“You’ve got to be fucking joking,” Natasha mutters through a mouth full of popcorn. “Tyler from the statistics department? Are we talking about the same Tyler from statistics?”

“Nat, for the fourth time, yes. Tyler from statistics. The only Tyler from statistics that I know.” You reach for the bottle of Moscato that the two of you are sharing, pouring yourself some more wine.

“Nuh-uh,” Natasha shakes her head. “I don't believe you. There's no way he could be that bad.” She takes a sip from her own glass of wine. “He's too gorgeous,” she shrugs, turning to face you on the couch. The romantic comedy you had picked out for your bi-monthly movie night plays forgotten in the background.

“Trust me,” you sigh. “I was just as shocked as you are. But I swear on my life, he stuck his tongue in my ear. In my fucking ear, but wouldn't go down on me.” You can tell by the look on her face that Nat is trying her hardest not to laugh.

“He said his dick game is ‘too good to need to eat a girl out’.” You shake your head, cringing at the memory. “Which is also what he said when I merely suggested that he use my vibrator on me instead. He looked like I had kicked his dog.”

“Well?” she asks, a pained expression across her features. “Was it? Too good?”

“I didn't stay to find out,” you admit. “I faked a work emergency and dipped.” A laugh breaks through her pursed lips.

“I'm sorry–” she says, although her face says otherwise. “I shouldn't laugh. You just have the worst luck with men. Isn't that the third failed hook-up in what? Six months?”

“Don't fucking remind me,” you groan, throwing your head back on the couch and staring up at the living room ceiling. “I think I've lost all hope of ever having an orgasm given to me by another person again.”

Nat opens her mouth to speak, but quickly closes it when you both notice voices approaching from the hallway.

Sam and Bucky enter the room a moment later, both dressed uncharacteristically nice. You suddenly feel the desire to conceal yourself with the fleece throw blanket laying across your lap. You and Nat usually plan your movie nights for when the tower is relatively empty, so you're just wearing a pair of old sweatpants and a tank top. Bare-faced and hair unstyled, the fact that Bucky's gaze is locked on you as the two of them approach where you and Nat are lounging doesn't help. He's not smiling - but there's a look on his face that you don't quite understand. The ghost of a smirk on his lips and a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

It's a look that makes you nervous - in addition to already feeling flutters in the pit of your stomach at how fucking good he looks.

“Hey, boys,” Nat greets them cheerily. “Where are the two of you going so dolled up?”

“There's a new nightclub in Brooklyn that a group of SHIELD trainees are going to tonight,” Sam answers. “They invited us and we've got nothing better to do. Figured we'd go check it out, get a few drinks. You ladies want to tag along? Or are you too busy watching - what is this, 10 Things I Hate About You?” He gestures towards the screen.

“Couldn't hurt to get out of the house for a while tonight, right?” Nat looks at you for confirmation, a knowing gleam in her eyes. “Who knows, you might even meet someone,” she adds, nudging you with her elbow.

Bucky lets out a sound halfway between a laugh and a cough, which he tries to play off as the latter. You narrow your eyes at him before glancing back to Natasha.

“For sure,” you agree, trying to ignore Bucky's bizarre behavior. “Couldn't hurt. You guys go on, we'll get ready and head there soon. Text us the name of the club?” You direct the last part to Sam in particular.

“You got it,” Sam says as he pulls his cell phone from his coat pocket. He turns to leave when both your and Nat’s phones chime with the club information. “Let's go man, our Uber's here,” he directs at Bucky.

“See you both soon,” he says before turning to follow Sam, though his gaze is still only on one of you.

“I'm gonna go throw on some make-up, curl my hair, and hope I can find something somewhat cute to–” Nat starts as soon as Bucky and Sam have turned back down the hallway.

“Was he acting kind of odd?” you interrupt her in a hushed tone.

“Barnes? Always. I've stopped reading into it too much.”

“Some spy you are,” you mumble. “Meet me back here when you're ready.”

— — — — —

One hour later, you're applying some last minute mascara and lip gloss in the backseat of an Uber on your way to downtown Brooklyn. Natasha sits beside you, ranting about an assignment that Fury has tasked her with and you swear you're trying your hardest to absorb everything she's saying - but your mind keeps going back to the way Bucky was looking at you just an hour ago.

What was with that little smirk? That curious glimmer in his eyes? Had he overheard your conversation with Nat? Had he developed the ability to read minds and knew you were thinking about how fucking hot he looked? Or was that thought simply written all over your face?

You knew you couldn't deny it. Bucky does look exceptionally attractive in his black suit, with his perfectly tousled hair - but you had found him to be ridiculously good looking since you'd first met him. Even in casual, everyday clothes, even in gym shorts and drenched in sweat, even covered in blood after particularly brutal miss–

“You girls have a great evening,” your Uber driver interrupts your train of thought as he comes to a stop in front of your destination.

You really need to get fucking laid. You definitely shouldn't be having these kinds of thoughts about Bucky. He's your coworker, your teammate, your training partner on many occasions, your friend…

Natasha thanks him and hands him a generous cash tip before climbing out of the car right after you.

“Thanks,” you tell her. “I'll buy our drinks.”

“Don't worry about me,” she tells you with a sly grin as you both flash the bouncer your IDs and enter the club. Despite the night still being relatively young, it's already bustling inside.

“You just focus on meeting people, mingling, maybe hitting it off with a super hot guy and taking him back to your place for some mind-blowing–”

“Super hot guy? Are you talking about me?” Sam’s voice interrupts Nat. You both turn around to see him and Bucky walking towards you, drinks in hand.

There's a roguish smile on Bucky's face as his eyes skim up and down your figure.

“You both look wonderful,” he compliments, but once again, his stare is focused only on you. If Natasha notices, she says nothing.

To be fair, you were impressed with how well you managed to put yourself together with such little notice. You found a black, backless mini dress crammed in the back of your closet that you had forgotten all about after snagging it on clearance forever ago. The form-fitting material hugs you in all the right ways, and paired with your favorite pair of strappy black heels, you're feeling infinitely more confident than you were when Bucky saw you just an hour prior.

“Thanks!” You chirp quickly, averting your gaze from him to take in your surroundings. To your left, the dance floor is lively, though not too overcrowded for your liking. To your right, there's a bar surrounded by tables filled with groups of people conversing - you vaguely recognize a couple of SHIELD agents huddled around one. The entire room is illuminated by the faint blue-green glow of the mood lighting, and the bass of the music vibrates through the floorboards.

Sam and Bucky excuse themselves to go say hey to the group of agents that had invited them, while Nat all but drags you over to the bar. You order a double shot of whiskey and throw it back as quickly as you can.

“I see what you mean now,” Nat whispers to you after downing her shot of tequila. “About Barnes,” she clarifies. “He's been eye-fucking you since we walked through the door.”

If you hadn't already swallowed your liquor, you would have spewed it all over her.

“He has not been eye-fucking me, Nat,” you say in an almost scolding tone.

“I'm just saying,” she throws her hands up. “There’s no way he could possibly be any worse than the last few guys you've gone for. I think you should go for it,” she shrugs.

“It's not that I don't think he'd be good,” you say defensively, forcing yourself to look away from where he and Sam are socializing with the small group of SHIELD agents a few tables away. “I just don't want things to be weird afterwards. We work together nearly every day, and we have a bunch of mutual friends–”

“Suit yourself,” she cuts you off in a tone of voice that very much says if you say so. “Now, are you going to dance with me or not?” She adds as she begins tugging you towards the ever-busying dance floor.

You spend the next half hour dancing with Nat before she's swept away by some black-haired doctor looking type. Good for her, you think as you watch them converse intimately at a small booth on the other side of the room.

Thanks to the liquid courage that runs through your veins, you're okay with the fact that Bucky stands just twenty feet away from you, watching you as you dance among the thick crowd of people.

You've made eye contact with him a few times now - on accident or on purpose, you're not sure at this point. But each time, your eyes lingers on his for a moment longer than the last.

You're mentally daring him to come here, to make a move, to do something other than stand to the sidelines of whatever conversation Sam and the others are engaged in.

The slightest bit of pressure on your waist snaps you back to the now congested dance floor.

You look up to find that the hand on your waist belongs to a tall man with shoulder length, sandy blonde hair. He's conventionally attractive enough, though not who you were hoping would come grab you on the dance floor.

“I'm Shawn,” he introduces himself, loudly enough for you to hear him over the roaring music. You tell him your name, pushing aside the pang of disappointment in your chest.

“Do you want to go somewhere a bit quieter to talk, maybe? Let me buy you a drin–”

“There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you,” a voice booms from behind you.

Shawn immediately retracts his hand from your waist, backing up a few inches as Bucky comes into view beside you.

“Must not have been looking too hard, I've been right here this whole time,” you jab back with a smug smile.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to–” Shawn says as he starts to back away.

“No worries, bud,” Bucky says in an overly friendly voice as he moves to stand in front of you, blocking you from Shawn's view entirely.

“Took you long enough,” you tell Bucky once the man is out of ear shot, once again beginning to sway to the music. “Get bored of listening to Sam hype himself up to the newbies?”

He takes a step closer, angling himself behind you. The crowd of people surrounding you edges you closer to him - your bare back brushing against the cool satin fabric of his suit.

“Maybe,” his chest vibrates against your skin when he speaks. He places his hands on either side of your hips - eliciting goosebumps across your skin in a way that no one else has in a long, long time.

“Or maybe I just wanted to save you from wasting your time on another guy who can't make you come.”

Your movements come to an abrupt pause as his words hit you.

He had fucking overheard your conversation with Natasha.

At a loss for words, you turn to face him. There's a shit-eating grin spread across his face. He thinks this is hilarious and it's obvious.

“Hasn't anyone ever told you it's rude to eavesdrop?”

“Is it really eavesdropping if I have superhuman hearing?” He takes a step closer to you, closing what little distance was separating you. The peaks of your breasts brush against his chest.

“So what happens now that you've saved me from another unsatisfactory hook-up?” You challenge, staring up at him in the neon blue lighting.

You can smell hints of cedarwood and sage from his cologne in your close proximity. It's so delicious that it's dizzying.

“Let me take you somewhere more private than this dance floor and I'll show you.”

“You seem to have a lot of confidence in your ability to give me a better experience,” you say, leaning forward so that your face is just inches from his.

He responds by placing his flesh hand on the small of your back and pulling you flush against him. The tips of his fingers continue to dance down the skin of your exposed spine. His vibranium hand comes to cradle your jaw, his metal thumb tracing your bottom lip.

His mouth forms a dark smirk - and then you feel it. It starts soft and subtle and then gradually increases in intensity.

His fucking thumb is vibrating against your lip.

If you hadn't been standing in the middle of a crowded dance floor at a nightclub in downtown Brooklyn, you would have taken that thumb into your mouth and sucked on it right then and there.

“What do you say?” he asks, now tugging on your bottom lip with the pulsing digit. “Are you going to let me take you to the first empty room I can find in this place and make you come?”

“I say show me the way.”

He removes his hand from your face and turns you in the direction of the back of the club. He guides you through the throng of dancers, keeping his hands placed firmly on either side of your waist from behind. His vibranium fingers still hum softly, reminding you of what he says is to come.

Directly past the dance floor, there's a hallway blocked off by a rope with a sign that reads employees only. Taking a quick look around, you see that all of the patrons surrounding you and Bucky are paying you no mind. Bucky unhooks the flimsy rope and the two of you slip down the hallway.

He jiggles the handles of several doors that all turn out to be locked. Not wanting to waste any time or draw any attention to yourselves with picking locks, you continue down the dark corridor until the heavy music from the heart of the club fades to a muted roar.

The very last door opens without a hitch.

Thanks to the pale orange glow of a table lamp on a desk in the corner of the room, you can see that you're in a makeshift office/supply room - a couple of filing cabinets, cleaning supplies, extra glassware, and some sound equipment strewn haphazardly throughout the limited space.

Bucky clicks the lock into place as soon as he closes the door behind him.

You're going to turn around him and tell him that he doesn't have to do this - that as badly as you want this, you don't want to ruin your friendship, that as badly as you want him, he doesn't have anything to prove to you - but his lips are already on yours as soon as you start to open your mouth.

He doesn't take his lips off of yours as he guides you backwards to the rickety wooden desk. The backs of your thighs hit the table and Bucky effortlessly lifts you to sit on the edge, giving him the perfect angle to deepen the kiss - with his tongue exploring your mouth, you're unable to stop yourself from groaning into the kiss.

You fist your fingers into his hair, tugging just hard enough so that he hisses into your mouth. His own hands trail from the sides of your stomach and down your thighs, until he reaches the tail of your dress. You instinctively part your legs for him, as much as the restrictive fabric will allow, and his vibranium hand shoots between your thighs.

He teases you, dragging his index finger along the cloth of your panties that you know you're close to soaking through already. Just as the tip of his finger pauses above your clit, his finger begins emitting the softest vibration.

You break the kiss, breathless as you throw your head back at the sensation. Bucky takes it as an opportunity to attach his lips to the pulse point of your throat, nipping your flesh with his teeth followed by a wet kiss.

He continues with the ministrations through your panties until you're rutting against his hand, needing more. He tugs your underwear to the side and increases the intensity of the vibration before nudging his middle finger past your entrance.

You have to hold onto his shoulders to steady yourself - despite the fact that you're sitting, your body feels like jelly beneath his touch. He adds in his index finger with ease before cupping your pussy in his palm - the heel of his hand pulsating against your clit.

“Fuck, Bucky,” you cry against his mouth.

“You're so fucking wet for me, you know that?” He coos, thrusting both of his fingers against the spongy-flesh of your walls.

You can feel the vibrations of his hand all the way from your belly to your toes.

You begin grinding your hips to meet the movement of his fingers, fucking yourself against his hand. There's a familiar knot forming in your lower belly as he curls his fingers inside you -

“I want you to think about me and how good I'm making you feel every time you think about letting some fuckin’ nobody touch you,” he says in a low voice next to your ear. “I want you to think about riding my fingers until you come all over my hand.”

His words send you over the edge and you do exactly that - your pussy clenching around his fingers as you ride them through your orgasm. While you're still coming down from the high of your climax, Bucky pulls his metal fingers out of you and brings them to your lips, inserting his index finger in your mouth. You swirl your tongue around the slick metal as he brings the vibrations to a halt and then slowly pulls the finger from your mouth.

He picks you up off the edge of the desk and plants you back on the ground - your legs still shaking from how hard you had come.

“Turn around and lean over the desk,” he instructs you, soft but authoritative.

You don't know if it's because of the way he's looking at you or because of how good he's already made you feel, but in that moment, you would've done anything he asked of you.

You bend over the desk, supporting yourself by leaning on your forearms. You peak back over your shoulder to look at Bucky - he hikes your dress up, baring your ass to him.

He lets out an audible groan before he has even pulled your panties down to your ankles.

He kneels on the ground behind you, his face inches away from your cunt. He uses both his flesh and metal hands to spread you open for him, and then his tongue is licking up your center from behind.

God, you hope no one tries to come into this room. The door may be locked but the sounds that someone would hear if they even walked up to the door…

Bucky knows just how to make you writhe above him. He's soft when he's kissing up your folds and unsparing when he's sucking your clit between his lips. His hands hold your ass in a firm grasp that teeters between pleasure and pain.

You grind back against his face and he moans so deeply that you feel the vibration of it up your core. Your eyes roll back into your head as you clutch the sides of the desk to better support yourself.

His enthusiasm alone has you spiraling towards a second climax embarrassingly fast.

“You know,” he murmurs against your sensitive pussy. “When I overheard you say that someone had refused to go down on you, I couldn't believe it. What a fuckin idiot to pass this up.” He gives your ass cheek a firm slap with his flesh hand before diving his face between your legs once more.

It's just seconds before you feel the telltale pressure growing in your lower belly once more. You go limp against the table, Bucky placing his hands on the backs of your thighs to help keep you upright as you ride out your orgasm on his face.

You continue to lay against the desk as you regain control of your breathing. Bucky stands up, tugging your panties up your legs and back around your waist as he does. He then shimmies your dress back down into place so that you're once again looking club-appropriate.

When you turn around to face him, he's wiping your slick from his lower face on the sleeve of his suit, once again displaying a shit-eating grin.

“What was it you said?” He asks in mocking contemplation. “You had lost all hope of ever having an orgasm given to you by another person again?”

“I think you've made your point. You're fantastic at eating pussy and you're a walking human-sex toy.” You roll your eyes at him and start to walk towards the door, but he grabs your wrist in his metal hand, stopping you.

He pulls you back to him and brings his flesh hand to cradle your jawline. He stares at you in a heavy, uncertain silence for a split second before bringing his lips to yours.

It's a kiss that's a bit more hesitant, and a lot less rushed than the one before. You taste yourself all over him, warm and salty. He takes his time getting lost in your mouth - you savor every second and it still comes to and end all too once.

“Couldn't help myself,” he smiles softly when he pulls away. “Just had to kiss you one last time.”

You can't help the way your heart skips a beat when he says the word last.

You clear your throat. “We should probably go find Sam and Natasha,” you say, giving him a small smile in return. “I'm sure they're both wondering where the hell we are.”

You spend the rest of the evening attempting to mingle with friends, but there's one thought that torments you for the remaining duration of the night - just a few hours ago, you doubted that you'd ever have a satisfactory hook-up ever again.

Now, you had to wonder if anyone else could ever make you feel as good as Bucky did.

♡♡♡♡♡

i left this kind of open-ended soooo leave it to your own interpretation what happens next for them 🤭

as always comments/reblogs are infinitely appreciated. thanks for reading!

my masterlist

[melminli]

Ddakji Man

summery - you were always struggling to make ends meet, despite having three separate jobs and you doubted that that would ever change. it felt like you were working out of your own casket and it would probably be more sustainable to invest in one at this point.

pairing: (gong yoo/ji-cheol) the salesman x fem. reader

word count: 1.5k

contains: slight arguing, cursing but nothing too graphic tbh

"Are you sure that you don't want to come?" One of your friends asked you a little sadly since you were about to leave the group. They rarely got to see you anyway, did you have to leave so early? "You never come with us when we go out for a drink, we miss you there, you know?"

You smiled a little tiredly as you strolled casually through the streets. "I'm sorry guys, I just have to work tonight." you tried to explain. Besides, I'm fucking tired and just want to get some sleep before then. I miss my bed.

Your best friend pouted as she hugged you from the side and you welcomed it, even if it made walking a little more difficult. "It's always work this work that. Live a little for once, all this stress is not good for you. You need a break." she spoke up before a thought came into her mind that made her a little furious. "Don't tell me that you're using work as an excuse to cancel on us. We can do something else if you want to. I'll even invite you, come on!"

You took a tired breath. I don't have any energy for this. "Trust me, I'd love nothing more than to get drunk with you and I'm not being sarcastic or anything." you clarified. Besides, I wouldn't work this much if I didn't have to.

"All right." she gave in unhappy. "We'll catch you one of these days, I can feel it..."

You laughed softly. "Please do," you replied and stopped in front of the stairs that led to the subway. This was the place where you had to part ways with the others and you did with a few more hugs. You enjoyed spending time with them and loved your friends with all your heart, but you were still happy to be a bit on your own now.

So you plugged in your cable headphones and played your current favorite song at the loudest volume before checking when the next train was going to arrive. Another twenty minutes? The last one must have just left. You decided to just sit down on a bench and wait while staring blankly around and quietly mumbling the lyrics to yourself.

A few minutes later, a person sat down next to you and you could see out of the corner of your eye that it was probably some kind of businessman or something. You didn't look closely out of politeness and turned your gaze somewhere else after checking the time on your phone.

"Excuse me." the unknown man tried to get your attention, but as expected, you could barely hear him over the booming music. He placed his briefcase in the space between you before leaning closer to your figure and looking towards you with a smile and finally, you seemed to notice his stare and turned in his direction. You took out one of your earbuds as you met his gaze. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

The man leaned back again. "I haven't said anything yet. I wanted to ask if I could talk to you, do you have a moment?"

You looked around a little uncomfortably as he maintained uninterrupted eye contact with you. "Ehm, well..." you stumbled slightly over your words. "I'm not religious or anything, sorry," you replied, having no patience for another discourse about Jesus and the church. This is the fourth time this week, lucky me. You thought to yourself as you were about to put your earplug back in.

The salesman held a hand in the air to stop you from doing that to keep your attention. You just looked at him uninterestedly and waited, it was going to be a while before your train arrived anyway. A smile graced his face after you were willing to listen to him again. "That's not what I wanted to talk about, I just want to offer you a chance."

Your face tightened a little in disgust and you were quite irritated by now. He seemed to be waiting for some kind of answer and didn't say anything else, so you had no choice but to interpret his words. He doesn't look like that kind of guy, but I guess it's always the ones who look the most decent. "Listen to me asshole," you said openly this time, all politeness gone as you pointed at his chest with your index finger. "I don't know you, maybe you're one of those men who try to talk in riddles to seem mysterious or something, but right now it just sounds like you're looking for someone cheap to fuck." you replied as you tapped his tie with each syllable and leaned a little closer to him as you whispered. "And I'm not cheap, so you might want to look elsewhere."

This time it was you who grinned as he looked at you in surprise and he let out a small grunt after you finished your sentence. The salesman straightened his tie while watching your figure before reaching for his briefcase and revealing its contents, "That's too bad, but also not what I was talking about," he replied as you looked at the money and colored paper in confusion. "Have you ever played Ddakji?" He asked you as he took out the red and blue paper. You just shook your head. "That's no problem at all, we can still play it if you're up for it." 

Your gaze alternated from his hand to his face. Oh, so he's crazy. You finally concluded. I guess he is too handsome to be just a normal guy, huh. You turned your head away from him, something about the whole thing just seemed perverse to you. "No thanks, I'll pass."

"You sure?" He asked again, knowing he'd convinced you as soon as he brought the money into it. These people are all the same, she'll snatch the paper right out of my hands after I start talking a language she understands. "Every time you win, you get 100,000 won from me." He began, watching the look on your face. "But if I win, you owe me 100,000 won and -"

You sighed and interrupted him. "Yes, I'm sure. I still don't want to play with you, okay?"

This time the man looked at you with a cold, icy stare. A few minutes passed like this and you just tried to ignore his gaze, but then he started talking again. "All right. 200,000 won." he finally said, but couldn't seem to get your attention back. He tried again. "Is it because you've never played the game before? We can have a practice round if that would make you feel more comfortable." he tried again and got irritated when you continued to ignore him. He looked around the area as he considered his next move. Is she waiting for me to increase the prize money further? These people usually jump up happily at the first amount since they're so desperate. He tried to collect himself again. "500,000 won." he finally said. "I've got the money right here, you just have to go for it."

When is this stupid train coming. "Look, I don't want your fucking money, understand? I'm not a gambling addict or -"

"You may not want it, but you need it," he said, annoyed. This has never happened before, is she stupid? He then spoke out your name and described your miserable living situation as if you didn't already know about it yourself. "You also have quite a lot of debt for someone who is still relatively young, are you seriously going to turn down the money I'm offering you? For what, to prove a point or something?"

You didn't know what this man's fucking problem was, he should be glad that you didn't want to take his money, and how did he even know all this? You got up from your seat next to him when the train finally arrived and turned to face him one last time. "Fuck you," you told him and then went to the doors. You even looked out of the window at him as soon as they closed before you, to show him your the middle finger.

The man in the suit watched your figure irritated until it was gone and then, took the little card out of the inside pocket of his suit, that was meant for you. He turned it over a few times in his hand before closing the open briefcase with his other one. He had already played and lost a few Ddakji games in his life, which was the point of the whole thing - to recruit players for the actual game. However, the thought of what awaited them there meant that he was still in control of the situation. He was always in control of the situation. "I didn't loose, we haven't even played." he tried to reassure himself.

And yet the whole conversation with you left him feeling like he was utterly defeated.

[whumpuary]

Whumpuary 2025!

(edit in case anyone actually reads this, i messed up and put "i'm fine" in twice for day 25 and alt prompt, so either ignore that or you can use "do it" as an additional alt prompt)

these prompts came together through community submissions and then a voting form where people voted for their favorites, here are the top 53 prompts

i want to try a slightly new format where there are still only 15 days for creation prompts but with additional community prompts/questions. those are entirely voluntary but are here to possibly inspire some community interaction and trying new things

i'm excited to see some awesome creations in january!

go here for info/rules/tagging go here for faqs

(note: number 31 is not a creation prompt and therefore not required to complete the challenge, it's just colored black so the colors add up)

text version of the prompts and rules is under the cut

(image description note: there are 31 numbered prompts, on each odd number the text color is black and on even numbers the text color is white)

Whumpuary 2025

a whump-themed multi media creation event for january

create for at least one prompt from each odd/black number to complete the challenge community prompts (even/white) numbers are voluntary

main prompts

1. sacrifice | headache | "this will hurt" 2. how did you find the whump community? 3. choice | storm | black eye 4. what are your favorite whump tropes? 5. "do you trust me" | manhandled | chills 6. share your favorite whump creations (others or yours!) 7. unfair fight | insomnia | "no one is coming" 8. what media genre do you like whump in? 9. trapped under rubble | gunpoint | out of time 10. write your own whump prompt 11. "i didn't ask for this" | blood | abandoned 12. create something in a new/less familiar medium 13. close call | sleep | choking 14. what's your favorite character dynamic? 15. handcuffed | dead | "please, stop" 16. leave a comment on a whump fic/art/creation 17. drugged | "i'm glad you're alive" | revenge 18. favorite whump medium? (movie, book, art, ...) 19. "let them go" | overworked | head injury 20. send a nice message to someone in the community 21. bruises | "who are you?" | immortality 22. take 10 minutes to work on a wip 23. backhand slap | alone | "i can't do this anymore" 24. what do you take inspiration in? 25. "i'm fine" | missing | drowsiness 26. draw/doodle something whumpy 27. stuck in a loop | twisting the knife | rescue 28. find a creator in the #whumpuary tag and send them an ask 29. kidnapped | "don't leave me" | devotion 30. make a whump meme 31. say something nice about your own work

alt prompts

hiding impaled "i'm fine" rain betrayal hair pulling darkness falling (added later, not in the image: "do it")

rules & info

-any medium is allowed (art, writing, gifs, edits, ...) -prompts are open for interpretation (but the context does have to be whumpy) -create for at least one of three prompts on creation prompt days (black/odd numbers) to complete the challenge -if you're not aiming for completionist you can do however many prompts you want any way you want -community prompts (white/even numbers) are voluntary and don't count for completionist (but can be combined with creation prompts if applicable) -use alt prompts to replace main prompts you don't like some works posted on tumblr will be reblogged if tagged correctly -#whumpuary2025 -#whumpuaryno1 (number of the prompt(s)) -#sacrifice #head injury #"i'm fine" (the prompt(s) you're using) -any trigger/content warning tags -any additional tags (fandom, oc, other used tropes, ...)

[fuckyeahisawthat]

Controversial opinion among Dune book fans maybe, but I loved the changes they made to Chani's character. Making her a fedaykin who is already an experienced fighter before Paul arrives was a brilliant choice. Dune Part Two is a war movie, and this puts her at the center of the action, side by side with Paul, and gives her a much more active role than she has in the book.

We got a hint of where things were going in the beginning of Dune Part One. The first thing we ever know about movie Chani is that she's a fighter. She serves as a voice for the Fremen, telling us the story of their struggle from her point of view. I wrote here about the difference this change makes compared to other adaptations of Dune, what a perspective shift it is to have the world of Arrakis introduced not by an outsider, describing it as a dangerous but valuable colonial prize, but by one of its native inhabitants, who tells us before all else that it's beautiful, her home that she's fighting to liberate. I am so, so glad that the second movie followed up on this characterization.

I never found Chani and Paul's love story in the book particularly convincing, because why would this woman, who already has a prominent and respected place in Fremen society, even give the time of day to her deposed would-be colonizer, let alone fall in love and have children with him? Without a compelling reason for Chani to love Paul, she ends up feeling like a prize to be won, and "indigenous culture personified as a woman to be wooed (or conquered) by the colonizing man" is a trope we've seen and don't need to repeat.

But as soon as you tell me it's a barricade romance I get it. Cool cool cool, I know exactly what this relationship is now and it makes sense. Movie Chani doesn't respect or even particularly like Paul when she first meets him, and she doesn't think he's the fulfillment of any prophecy. She comes to respect him, and eventually love him, through his actions. He's brave--sometimes recklessly so. He fights well. He's willing to stick his neck out on the front lines with the other Fremen fighters. He can (after a little help) hack surviving in the harsh desert environment. He's not too proud to learn from others. He seems to genuinely want to be her equal in a common political struggle. All these qualities make sense as things she values.

Fighting side by side as equals is just about the only way I can see movie Chani falling for Paul. And it fits perfectly with the film's pattern of reversals that Paul's capacity for violence would initially be one of the things Chani likes about him, only for her to be repelled later when she sees what he becomes.

And as for Paul, well, he's had people deferring to him his entire life. Someone who doesn't take any shit from him is probably refreshing. He seems to like people (Duncan, Gurney) who challenge him and engage in a little friendly teasing--and aren't afraid to go a few rounds in the sparring ring.

It's easy to speedrun a romance when you're spending all your time together in mortal danger fighting for a shared political cause. Especially if you then start winning in a war your people have been fighting for decades. Are you kidding me? That is the perfect environment for intense battle camaraderie to turn into romantic love, and lust.

It makes sense that this version of Chani never believes Paul is any kind of messiah. Of course a character like movie Chani wouldn't believe in or trust some outside savior to liberate them. She's been working to liberate her own people for years. The more Paul invokes the messianic myth, the more he starts sounding once again like someone who plans to rule over them, and the more uncomfortable Chani becomes. In this way she becomes a foil to Jessica, the two of them representing the choices Paul is pulled between. It's a great way of externalizing the political and philosophical debates that often happen within characters' heads in the book.

And of course this version of Chani would leave Paul at the end of the film. It's not just the personal, emotional betrayal--although that stings. What common cause does she have with someone who just declared himself emperor and is sending her own people off in a war of conquest against others? Given the important role she plays in Dune Messiah, I am super curious to see how they get her back into the story, but girl was so valid for being willing to just gtfo. Given that she has the last shot of the whole movie, I'm sure she'll be back somehow, and I can't wait to see what they do with her character in any future installments.

[evanhereonearth]

The Insidious Cycle of the Abuser Who Says They Love You: Mythal and Solas

Likely goes without saying, but Veilguard spoilers all under the jump.

I have been absolutely wrecked by the end scenes in Veilguard for weeks now, and I want to do a deep dive into Solas's relationship with Mythal and how it absolutely reeks of abuse. Long post incoming!

CW for heavy discussion of cycles of abuse, trauma response, and abuse tactics.

When I finished my first playthrough, this moment hit me like an absolute freight train. His visceral response to her presence and the way he instinctively retreats and flinches back/puts out a hand to protect himself is a full-blown trauma response.

And then she starts talking and moving towards him, and it gets worse.

Solas curls in on himself; his body goes even further into self-protection mode. His face is downcast, not the way he bowed to his vhenan moments before with a straight back and open posture, but shrinking.

And then as she advances, he cowers.

He completely folds inward. He crumples; he shakes, he hyperventilates, and the moment she reaches for him, he fumblingly offers her the lyrium dagger to kill him with.

Is this shame? Yes, of course, but it's far, far more than that.

For the sake of brevity, I'm going to limit this list to the four most widely recognised trauma responses:

Fight

Flight

Freeze

Fawn

As someone whose primary trauma response is fawn (wooo CPTSD), which is intensely common among people who experience complex trauma, especially through emotional and prolonged physical/mental abuse where their needs are discarded, pushed aside, or otherwise steamrolled, I felt this right alongside Solas. My own body responded to seeing it. This is, quite frankly, one of the most visceral and realistic (and extreme) fawn responses I've seen depicted in media.

Mythal in this scene is...phew, something else.

"She was the best of them," Solas tells us in Trespasser.

But she was not good, everything tells us in Veilguard.

Let's look at his regrets in chronological order.

Through Solas's memories of regret, we see this germinate in his foundational regret: leaving the Fade to take a physical form.

He does not want to do this. He tells her he does not want to do this. From the conversation, it's clear it's not the first time she's asked.

And the way she asks? Outright coercion.

"You have so long observed the world. Why not consider joining it?" [I want you to do this thing, so I will frame it as logical for you to make the choice I want you to make.]

"But I have no desire to live as humans. Besides, this talk of taking on a solid form. I think you underestimate the danger." [I don't want to do that. It does not feel safe to me.] "When you took the glowing stone to build your body, did the earth not shake?" [This is dangerous and selfish.]

"The lyrium gives us the strength we had when we were of the Fade; we are the best of both physical and Fade." [It makes us powerful, so I don't care about the risks.] "I need your wisdom, Solas, to withstand the louder voices like Elgar'nan's who would go too far." [If you do not come with me, a tyrant you abhor will make others suffer.] "I need you."

"This is madness. You must know that." [I don't want to do this at all. This will hurt me. I don't want this.] "I will always follow where you go." [Because I love you and trust you.]

Mythal's words in this part are classic abusive framing. When appealing to his natural curiosity does not work and he expresses strong rejection of her logical thought process (just because I have observed this place does not mean I want to go there, echoing his comments to the Inquisitor in DAI: "Many Orlesian peasants dream of travelling to exotic Rivain. But not everyone wants to go to Rivain!") and expresses that there is significant danger to continue to build bodies out of lyrium, she changes tactics.

Her second tactic is that it gives them power--she implies that he is limited and not enough for being only of the Fade. If he follows her, he will be the best of both, like she is. She clearly already sees herself as above him.

Her third tactic is pure emotional blackmail: "I need you. I will give in to the tyrants without your wisdom, and having your counsel in the Fade is not enough. If you don't go against your own nature and desires, people will suffer...and it will be your fault for not being by my side."

She doesn't say those things outright, but they are implied by everything she is saying. He says again he doesn't want it--that it is madness and that she must be aware of that despite her ignoring any suggestion that she actually is. All she is seeing is power and her desires: for Solas to do what she wants him to do.

So he agrees. Because she is his friend, and she says she needs him.

As far as core wounds go, this one is a doozy. It's absolutely brutal, because it's irrevocable. It's a point of no return. It's the first in what will become millennia of regret, of her ignoring the Wisdom she coerced out of the Fade to do what she wants regardless, to continue to push him to twist his nature under the guise of the greater good, to continue to cede to Elgar'nan and enable the very tyrants she promised him to balance.

This regret was deeply painful for me to watch. The nuance here is easily lost if people don't understand abuse tactics and how this sort of manipulation is used. It also serves to bind Solas to Mythal, an enormous sunk cost fallacy in the making--once he has made this choice, there is no going back.

And you see Solas curled in on himself in anguish and regret from the trauma of taking a physical form. It is in deep, painful contrast to his open, free wingspan as a spirit of Wisdom; he will never be the same.

"Have you created what we need?" From the outset Mythal is framing this as his idea as much as hers, when from everything he says, that is not true.

"With this, the proper ritual will sunder every Titan from its spirit. But you must know, those severed dreams will certainly be driven mad, a disembodied blight of pain and anger. It--is--awful what we are doing."

"And the only way to end this war."

Again, Solas offers the wisdom she claimed she took him from the Fade to listen to. He warns her, again, of the danger. He does not want to do this. Just like he warned her of the earth quaking when they made their bodies--they, the Evanuris, started this war by taking what they wanted regardless of who it hurt. He never wanted to participate in it, but now he is in the middle of that war. Mythal was one of the initial perpetrators of this war; she brought Solas into it against his will because he loved her, and now he's stuck. He is past his point of no return. And she is still using his heart against him. She has isolated him from everyone he knew in the Fade; he has no one to support him. He. Only. Has. Her.

This is another classic abuse tactic; if the person being abused has no one else, they will continue to enable that abuse even if it harms others, because they cannot see a way out. If you don't do what I say, it will destroy our children, our family. If you don't do what I say, this war will consume all you have, and you no longer have a home to return to. If you don't do what I say and hurt yourself and the Other, more will suffer, and it will be your fault.

Again, his posture, curled up and broken, appearing to cradle a now-tranquil Titan beneath him--and be embraced in return. This is an interesting artistic choice here, one that aches. It speaks to the depth of his own wound and how much it rent his own spirit to follow through with Mythal's wants here; that it sundered him from his spirit as much as it did the Titans.

"You cannot do this, Elgar'nan! You swore we would give up our commands when this war was over!"

"Our people need our leadership. If you are unwilling, leave."

From Elgar'nan, this is expected. From Mythal?

"Our people must rebuild. And we must help unite them."

Solas, once again, betrayed. He put his trust in Mythal and in the other Evanuris to follow through with their promise. Everything he has done thus far is poisoned in this moment; had the Evanuris indeed stepped back rather than stepped on necks, perhaps Solas could have healed, found a way to live with what he had done, maybe even to make amends. But this starts his war anew--and Mythal is standing with his enemy despite her promises, despite every wheedling word she's used to get what she wants from him over the centuries and longer, despite him turning from everything, everything, he loved to love her. This is the moment where he understands that he has only been a tool to her all along.

"So we did not fight for freedom, but to conquer this land and our own."

Let's pick apart Solas's words.

So we did not fight for freedom: He truly believed that he was fighting for freedom, that no matter how bad it got, that he could bear it for freedom.

But to conquer this land: Literally the land, I think, because of the Titans. To subdue them at all costs. This was not what he came for, but he believed Mythal.

And our own: Our own, our people, more spirits we gave bodies for this war, more who may not have wanted to leave the Fade. Our own, our people. To Solas, he is one of them. In this moment, he realises how much Mythal holds herself above all of them.

Elgar'nan's words are all too telling: "We fought to win. And now the Evanuris are as gods. I do not answer to Mythal's annoying lapdog."

They all--all--see him thus. As her pet.

Because he is. She has, until now, controlled him utterly with her manipulation and "need" for him.

"The people are afraid. They must believe in something." Mythal does not even stand up for Solas here; she does not reject Elgar'nan's perception of him. All she does is further distance herself.

The people are afraid: The Evanuris made them. They are as controlled as Solas and more.

Elgar'nan asserts, "They need strength."

"And wisdom." Mythal has the absolute gall to attribute this to herself, when Solas is the source of the wisdom she "needed" for so long. (Belated addition: And another level here: she may also be saying again that she needs him, but doing so in a way that doesn't require her to stand up for him directly. Honestly, fucking gross.)

"They need gods who can protect them," Elgar'nan continues.

"We are not gods. You will learn that." Solas's voice here is pure defeat. The scales are falling from his eyes.

"Every lapdog holds a wolf inside," says Elgar'nan.

Solas knows that Elgar'nan's "protection" is hollow, based on subjugation. And I think in this moment, he learns that Mythal's is based only in her belief that she is better than those beneath her, who cannot possibly handle themselves.

So her lapdog becomes the Wolf.

"I was not certain you would come."

Solas's opening words in this regret show the distance between them already and how much he has realised he does not know this woman who called herself his friend.

And her response is to instantly blame him.

"You are the one who walked away. I never turn my back when my friend needs me."

In putting this post together, this line absolutely sucker punched me. I've watched these several times already, but the absolute audacity to blame him for standing up for his principles for the first time against all her manipulation? Hoo.

She blames him for doing just that, "turning his back when his friend needed him." She needed her enabler, and when he stopped, she turned bitter. Just like any abuser.

That he goes straight into "The Evanuris seek the magic of the Blight" instead of engaging, honestly shows that he's still Wisdom. That is one battle that is unwinnable, trying to stand up against an abuser's bullshit like that.

"Impossible," she says. "The Blight is safely sealed away forever."

Gaslight, girl boss, gatekeep.

"Though I wish I could believe you." [You have lied to me so many times.] "I have sensed the breaking of the wards."

And her answer is patronising. "I will investigate your claims." [I don't believe you.] "If they forget the danger of the Blight, I will endeavour to remind them."

Solas knows this is futile. "What if, instead, you left the Evanuris and remained with me? Do you not wish for freedom from this struggle?"

He asks her, again, to veer from the dangerous path. He desperately wants to believe he was not completely wrong about her, I think. If she were to leave, he could heal somewhat, for not having so thoroughly misjudged her character.

Am I enough for you? Was I ever enough? is the unspoken question here when he asks if she will remain with him.

And in return, he gets back even more patronising bullshit and hubris. "Be at peace, love. I will stop them."

(Can you tell Mythal pisses me off?)

She calls him love. What an unbearable insult after everything, to go on telling him she cares for him whilst ignoring his wisdom--the very wisdom she coerced him into leaving the Fade so she would have by her side--and consolidating her own power at the expense of his people.

"As you must," he says. "The Blight is our mistake."

Might be unpopular, but I do not think Solas bears a split fifty-fifty custody for whose fault the Blight is. Could he have said no about the dagger? Could he have pushed then? Maybe. But by this point, he'd already had probable millennia of complex trauma and a deeply abusive codependent relationship, probably also a level of magical bond. Like, sorry, Trick and BioWare, if you want to retcon everything you shared with us in Inquisition about being in service to the Evanuris ("You have given yourself into the service of an ancient elven god! You are Mythal's creature now. Everything you do, whether you know it or not, will be for her.") AND Mythal casually overriding her servants' will and Solas burning her vallaslin off his face and leaving a scar and devoting himself to freeing the elven people from the Evanuris's domination, fine, but I don't buy it. Even if there was no magical compulsion on him all this time, that is immaterial.

Complex trauma literally rewires the brain to survive. She spent lifetimes programming him, isolating him, stripping from him every bit of agency he had. This man did not have the capacity to say no.

When our no is trampled even for a few months or years, we stop trying to use it. We comply. We, as mortal humans, cannot begin to comprehend the compounded trauma of millennia of this happening with the stakes of worlds in the balance. Solas, quite simply, has lost the entire ability to consent. No one of us can even imagine.

Yet he managed to walk away from her somehow, when she chose Elgar'nan. This man is stronger than anyone gives him credit for.

The dagger was clearly Mythal's idea. The plan to sever the Titans from their dreams, clearly her idea. To end the war. For there to be "peace". For there to be "freedom". Except that never came.

His loyalty was to her and to their people; hers was only ever to herself.

And again, she walks away and lets Solas suffer.

What a good friend.

[screaming from the general direction of Scotland]

She put her trust in monsters instead of her oldest friend, and the monsters ate her face.

Anyone surprised? I'm surprised. (I'm not surprised.)

And on top of this, Mythal finally, finally giving Solas one tiny breadcrumb that she had any principles remaining? I think that cemented his bindings to her forever. Not just that the Evanuris killed her, but why they killed her: because after millennia, she listened to him.

For someone that deep into trauma and abuse? Well. We know what happened.

It cannot be overstated that with his imprisonment of the Evanuris and the Blight, Solas saved the entire world. The entire world. Every living being in Thedas had a chance at life because of him. Only because of him.

Morrigan says it early on in the game, that for all the consequences of the veil (which, it also must be said, was not supposed to be global!), "his imprisonment of the Evanuris was just. Had he not done so, all of Thedas would have fallen to the Blight."

And the world has hated him for it.

He woke after sleeping for millennia, exhausted by this immense act of magic, to discover that not only had it gone horribly wrong, but that it had cost his people everything. That Tevinter had come in and enslaved them, released a trickle of the Blight after breaking into the Black City, used so much blood magic that the veil itself all over Thedas has been in tatters--not least because in releasing the Blight, the survivors had had to face down and kill the dragon thralls (archdemons) of the Evanuris, rendering five out of seven of them mortal, and with their deaths over the intervening centuries, the veil had grown threadbare with only two Evanuris sustaining it.

The risks were catastrophic, the price unbearable.

Everything he'd ever done to protect the world could still come crashing down...and in a sick twist of fate, he would be alive to see it.

And, shockingly, so would Mythal.

Mythal, whose fragment has just been chilling in a swamp for centuries in human form. Mythal, whose abuse of him lasted through the entirety of the world's history. Mythal, who, due to the Evanuris's betrayal and her abusee's abandonment, has become little more than retribution.

Mythal, who could have set him free at any point in all this time and didn't, because he was hers.

Mythal, who is the only remaining person with the power to do what he feels must be done.

I find it interesting that they chose not to use the post-Inquisition dialogue at all. Interesting also that they used Mythal's voice actor and not Flemeth's. This feels like a retcon, but we'll go with it. Whatevs.

"I knew that you would find me soon enough. You need the power of a god, the strength that I alone still carry."

She's still asserting her own godhood.

He's not having it. "The blighted Evanuris will soon break free from their prison. I must make a stronger one that can contain them."

He's not wrong. Not even a little bit wrong. And he's also right that she won't help him. Why would she? She never has.

"While the prison is important, it is not the only goal you seek."

"Why should I not tear down the veil? And bring back immortality to all the elven people? They deserve it."

And this is where I get even more raging, because Mythal's answer is this: "The elven people of today do not deserve to see the world they love torn apart to salve your conscience."

I'm sorry, what?

The world they love? The world that has offered them nowt but literal genocide for thousands of years? The world where in Tevinter, they're chattel slaves and worse, fuel for blood magic without a thought? The world where in the "civilised", slaveless nations to the south, they're either confined to alienages and subjected to repeated genocide (that's what a "purge" is, if anyone isn't clear on that) or the remnants of the Dales, who are the descendents of another enormous genocide? The world where elven magic has been pillaged but elven mages in human settlements are confined to Circles and abused or made tranquil or also genocided by Templars invoking the Rite of Annulment? The world where they're called "elf savage" and "rabbit" and "knife ear" and cannot participate in Thedosian religious life because the Chantry erases every instance of elves from even the Chant of Light? The world where it took the Inquisitor installing a perpetrator of genocide on the Orlesian throne (both Celene AND Gaspard fit this bill) and either having Celene reconcile with Briala (Briala and Celene's relationship could be a whole other post. Boak.) and blackmailing them to give a single elf lands and a title? That world????

What the fuck, Mythal, die faster.

I got real mad there for a second. I'm fine. I'm fine!

Solas, once more, simply says, "I must fix what I have broken. I am sorry."

More than she deserves, frankly. Man's a mess, but at least he tries. She's been chilling in a swamp and pulling puppet strings for ages and abusing her kids. Nudging history like it's some sort of hobby, because it has always just been pieces on a board to her. They have never been people in her eyes like they are in his.

"As am I, old friend."

Aye, get tae fuck. Friends don't treat friends the way you treated Solas. The closest thing to an apology Solas will ever get from her is that she pretty much just lies down and dies when he comes to kill her. And she still won't set him free before he does. Has to continue to twist her own knife.

This scene has me riled.

And this takes us back to the beginning of this post.

To her essence showing up to release him from her service.

In what is, to me, the least accountable, bare minimum non-apology (she never actually says she's sorry) I've had the displeasure to witness in a videogame, with Solas literally cowering before her and offering her a knife to kill him with since this is the first time he's seen her actual, non-Flemythal face since she died.

This was never a friendship of equals. Ever.

She got one thing right. She did break him. But she knew it all this time, and she never took a single step to put it right until pushed. Her corner of the Crossroads, which he built for her in the desperate hope that she would show a glimmer of the friend he believed she was, notably has a pair of wolf statues. Both beheaded.

She's spent all this time punishing him further.

He never went to visit her? I wouldn't either. I could not blame him.

This has gone to an angry place. So let's conclude with what is, I think, the entire point.

Grace.

"I lied. I betrayed you."

"I forgive you."

Has anyone--anyone--in all his long life, ever said those words to him?

I'll say that again: has anyone--ANYONE--in all his millennia of existence, EVER said those words to him?

I forgive you.

Mythal certainly didn't.

The world certainly didn't.

He has shouldered all the blame of an entire pantheon, a war that broke the world, a blight, everything, always, and while people have come alongside him to help him, I am not sure anyone (certainly not anyone he cares about) has given him the grace of forgiveness.

The beauty of this final scene for me wasn't just Ilaana, wasn't just Ilaana reuniting with the man she has loved for a decade who has spent all that time pushing her away so he couldn't--in his mind--inevitably poison the love of the only person who has seen his spirit and cherished it without twisting him.

It was the slow realisation that Rook trusted his love enough to try.

It was Morrigan, who carries all Mythal's memories and her own of Flemythal's abuse and machinations, who responds to Rook's question about her views of Solas with: "Or do you mean to discover if I would stand directly against the Dread Wolf, were there a need? I shall aid you in any way but that. What has passed between Solas and Mythal...I beg you: do not ask this of me again."

Morrigan knows. She will not raise a hand against him. She will not try to stop him. She will let the veil fall. She will not fight with Rook. Because she knows this being whose memories she holds has harmed him enough.

Solas, in these final moments, even before Mythal shows up to gut punch him, realises all these people have somehow, somehow, banded together to help him.

Not work for him.

Not be his agents.

Not worship him.

Not follow him blindly.

To help him. To help Solas. To help him, after all this time, take the first steps towards himself. Towards his own essence, so long twisted into something he never sought or wanted.

The Inquisitor and Morrigan certainly understand what it's like to be seen only as the symbol others raise in your image. Rook will learn that someday, but is still naive.

But even with that naivete, willing. Present. Able to put aside being a chess piece on his board. Able to see that they would never have succeeded without his help. Able to trust two people who know him better than they ever will.

Able to offer him grace.

And when they produce Mythal's essence, how that must brutalise him; to think that perhaps all this has been to let his abuser kill him back. He clearly thinks that's what's happening. He breaks. He fawns. He offers her the blade that has caused so much pain.

Her release of him is the bare minimum she owes him. I've already railed about that.

What is transcendent here, transformative--it is the mortals.

The mortals offering grace to a god who never wanted to be a god.

It's them together showing him a way out of an endless cycle of trauma and abuse. No one of them alone is enough. Without Rook, they wouldn't have Mythal's essence; Morrigan can't go get it, and she can't do what is needed because she's not actually Mythal, only has her memories. Without Morrigan, who can stand there with those memories but from the compassionate perspective of someone who has watched them in horror from the outside. She's far from objective, but she can do this one thing to help.

Without the Inquisitor (romanced or not, still someone he let know him as he most desperately wanted to be known--the Fade-walker, the Dreamer, the humble mage who desperately needed a friend). The Inquisitor, who kneels before him to comfort him. Who sees his hurt and responds.

If romanced, without Lavellan, who kneels to repeat back words he once shouted at the Nightmare in the Fade after Adamant.

"Dirth ma, harellan. Ma banal enasalin. Mar solas ema mar din." (Speak, traitor. Your victory was fruitless. Your pride gives way only to your death.)

To which Solas replied, "Banal nadas."

On the surface, nothing is inevitable, but can also be taken to mean that nothingness is inevitable, entropy, the final void. (Thanks to Dumped, Drunk, and Dalish for this excellent long post on this scene.)

And here is Lavellan, kneeling beside him with those words. "Banal nadas ar lath, ma vhenan."

Nothing is inevitable but the love we share, my heart.

I see everything you are, all you have done, and I love you. I forgive you for the pain you have caused me. I understand, see, and forgive.

No one has ever shown him grace like this.

Ever.

And Solas, this shattered man, sobs.

He sobs.

Someone has taken the trouble to isolate his voice in the video. This man has nothing left. And, after millennia of this trauma cycle repeating over and over, he is finally free to make the choice he wants to make. It's not the outcome he wants; that has to be said. He doesn't want to leave the veil up. He doesn't want to be bound into prison forever with no hope of seeing the world he fought for ever return.

But he is done.

In the Fade after Adamant, there is a cemetery with the worst fears of every companion scriven on shrines and stones. Solas's is dying alone.

After all of this, he is willing to face just that--and would, if not for her.

She knows his deepest fears. She has faced the demon Mythal made of the man she loves. She has given unwitting comfort to the spirit of Wisdom still within. She has seen his sweetest self. Nurtured him, cherished him, and has been nurtured and cherished in return.

Does she want to leave the world behind and spend eternity in a Fade prison? Probably not her first choice. It's not my Ilaana's; she has been on his side all this time, dreaming of a world where the spirits she loves can be reunited with the world in peace and ready to make that happen.

But it was not supposed to happen this way. It did happen this way anyway.

He has sacrificed everything--everything--including his own spirit self, his soul, his life. How could she not offer him what no one ever has? A friend forever, a lover willing to walk the din'an shiral by his side, a companion to ward off the forever alone.

Together, the two of them can begin to heal, with their counterpart who has always seen through the burdens of the world to the soul within.

This is the only thing I've ever had any faith in. Grace I know you carry us Grace And it was such a mess Grace I don't say it enough Grace You are so loved

[beloveds-embrace]

Fuck it, we ball, I hope that disrespectful anon gets hemorrhoids and they can't get them removed until next year, AND that their insurance doesn't cover it. I'm here thinking about your Omega idea where omegas normally do the pursuing, but with a slight twist; the boys being the omegas. An alpha who is for sure down bad for the boys, but thinks "ah, theyre out of my league, I should be aiming lower, manage my expectations". Only 141 is just as down bad for them, and they're doing everything just short of screaming "PICK UP ON THE HINTS, COME INTO OUR HOUSE AND BEDS AND LIVES AND STAY FOREVER PLEASE"

Johnny is about to say fuck decorum and just show up in reader's house wearing nothing but a ribbon and a tag that says 'free to a good home' (your home is the good one, please keep him, there is no receipt so you can't return him).

Price has the brain cell normally in terms of trying to gently coax you into getting you to say you're into them, he has a 15 step plan that may or may not involve using his various contacts to get you spending more time in close proximity to them. Also he for some reason is always baking, he always comes over asking you for sugar? (He'll take any kind of 'sugar' you're willing to offer, he loves making a variety of cream pies)

Gaz is always gently inviting them to attend 'friend' things, things that could be a date but that he can excuse as 'well we're coworkers/friends/neighbors, we should get along :)'. It's just a coincidence that various other people seem to bail except for any of the other boys, now why don't you sit beside him so you guys can share popcorn at the movies (you both always seem to be reaching for it at the same time, if your fingers touched anymore you might as well be holding hands)

Simon is chasing off any omegas he thinks are a threat to them getting reader, that is THEIR alpha, paws OFF (rip to anyone reader was halfheartedly going on dates with, this man is gonna become those people's sleep paralysis demon)

Hope you enjoy!! :3 💕💕 i lovedddd writing this sm omg

See, the thing is, you’d always thought of yourself as a decent Alpha. Not overbearing, not egotistical, not a demanding freak- just capable and steady. But you weren’t extraordinary. Not the kind of Alpha Omegas like them would look at twice. And so, while you worked alongside the men of Task Force 141 you convinced yourself to be content with just admiring them from a distance.

You couldn’t help it. They were perfect, as far as you were concerned. Perfect, and fully out of your league.

Surely, Omegas like them would want someone better. Someone stronger. You’d told yourself that so many times it was practically your mantra, the only way you’d be able to stop yourself from pursuing them. They deserved someone more charismatic, more confident- an Alpha who could match their brilliance. Not someone like you, fumbling through conversations with them, struggling to keep your feelings in check.

But they’d already decided. They didn’t need a flashy Alpha or someone who tried too hard. What they wanted was you. The only problem? You didn’t seem to realize it, no matter how obvious they made it.

John took the lead, naturally. He knew you were cautious and perhaps a little insecure when it came to relationships (it was fucking visible in you, silly Alpha. He scoffs each time you draw back, frustrated), so he made it his mission to draw you in- slowly and subtly. His plan was meticulous: get you comfortable, build trust, and create opportunities for you to spend more time with them so you’d see that they only want you.

Maybe then you’d break out of that stupid shell you’ve put yourself in.

He’d started baking regularly, a habit you hadn’t even known he had. At least once a week, he’d show up at your place with a tin of cookies, a loaf of fresh bread, or a perfectly golden pie. “Thought I’d share,” he’d say casually, though the slight smirk tugging at his lips told a different story. He peers at you, letting his scent coil just a bit more. “I hope you don’t mind the amount of cream. I happen to like cream pies a lot.”

The way to an Alpha’s heart is through their stomach, and all that.

If he wasn’t offering you baked goods, he was asking for your help to make said baked goods. “Ran out of sugar again,” he’d sigh, handing you an empty container. “Mind sparing a bit?”

It was ridiculous, downright unbelievable how often he supposedly ran out of baking supplies. But his visits became a highlight of your week, and the lingering looks he gave you left your heart pounding long after he was gone.

The one time he’d handfed you, watching you lick the syrup from his fingers with half-lidded eyes, still lives in your mind rent-free.

Kyle took a softer, more personal approach. He wasn’t above using the pretense of friendship to spend time with you, often inviting you to casual dates- grabbing coffee, going to the movies, or just walking through town and shopping. Every invitation was framed innocently, but there was always a little extra effort behind it. He’d pick a movie he knew you’d like, suggest places he knew you’d find interesting, and ensure that others you unfortunately knew joined just enough to make it seem less like a date.

Somehow, though, those other people always mysteriously canceled. It was never anything dramatic- just a sudden cold, a scheduling conflict, or a “something came up, sorry.” Eventually, it would be just you and a very smug Kyle, sitting close enough that your knees brushed or reaching for popcorn at the same time. Once, right as the bowl emptied and you both reached for it, Kyle simply thought fuck it and held your hand.

On one occasion, you both shared a bowl of spaghetti and ended up with the scene from the Lady and the Tramp.

It was so painfully obvious to everyone.

Except you.

“It’s not a coincidence,” Kyle muttered to Johnny one evening after you left, both of them sitting in the spot you were in, bathing in the leftover warmth and scent. “How can they not notice?”

Speaking of Johnny; he’s barely keeping himself together. Subtlety in missions are a must sometimes, but he doesn’t want to that with you anymore. He was just so, so, so frustrated with your obliviousness. What more does he need to do to show you that he- that they- want you?

He’s been dropping so many hints; half-jokes about Omegas waiting begging to be swept off their feet, suggestive winks when you compliment him in that lovely, adoring tone of yours. Once, while watching a romantic tv show, he’d sighed loudly and very pointedly said: “If only someone would claim me.”

“If ye don’t figure it out soon,” he growled at the others one night, pacing back and forth like a wild beast and probably on his way to leave a dent in the carpet, “I’m showin’ up at their doorstep with nothin’ but a red bow, like some bloody Christmas prezzie, I swear to god.”

John sighs, rolling his eyes. “You do that, and I’m leaving you on their porch.”

“That’s exactly what I’m askin’ for!”

Simon took the quietest but most direct approach. Just not exactly direct towards you. While the others worked to get closer to you, Simon focused on eliminating what he saw as obstacles: other Omegas who thought you were free for the taking. It didn’t matter if they were serious or just someone you’d gone on a casual date with- Simon saw them all as threats.

He didn’t have to say much to scare them off. A single cold glare from across the room, sharp bursts of his scent, or a low, menacing comment was usually enough to send them packing. He didn’t care if it was excessive.

You were his Alpha. You were their Alpha, and no one else had a right to you.

But even Simon softened when it came to you. He couldn’t put all his thoughts, all his feelings into words, so he did them with his actions. Quiet protectiveness, gentle, careful touches. Moments of fleeting vulnerabilities shared between you and him.

He was always there for you. Even if you didn’t know you need him with you.

Still, despite all their efforts, you remained convinced that they weren’t interested.

In the end, to no one’s surprise, it’s Johnny who snaps. Johnny, so close to his heat, so absolutely done with your obliviousness and the Omegas that aren’t them talking with you when you should be only focused on them.

He doesn’t care; leaves the carefully made nest with your stolen shirts and none of the others stop him when he just. Drags your surprised self to the nest.

“Johnny! You-“

“I want you.” He hisses, bares his teeth all sharp and desperate. “We want you. And damn it, we will have you.”

And well, who are you to even say no when this is all you have wanted?

[nanaslutt]

Playing with Toji's nipples

cont: fem reader, established relationship, nipple play, edging, a wink of Sub!Toji, dirty talk, unprotected sex, cumming inside, teasing, rough sex

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Even now, after Toji had already accepted his fate, he was pouting. His massive back was pressed to your chest as you sat against the headboard behind him, your feet hooked over then under his thighs, keeping them spread slightly. Toji stared at the wall, his bottom lip slightly pouted out as he waited for you to make your move so this would all be over.

"Tojiiiii, what's the matter?" You ask teasingly, a big smile across your face as you grab his chin from behind and turn his head to look at you, tilting your head around his body to get a better look at him. Toji doesn't speak, just keeps the 'fate accepted' expression on his face. Your smile grows as you lean in and press your lips against his, making him release an annoyed grunt at the action. He knows you know how much he loves kissing, but he wants to keep his defiant facade up.

"Toji if you really hate the idea that much... we don't have to do it." You say, a bit dejectedly as your hand leaves his face to reach around his body and caress the skin of his abs, your fingers tracing the indents of the strong muscles. Toji shut his eyes and sighed, relishing the feeling of your warm hands on him. "It's your birthday princess. Said I would do what you wanted." He says, his expression softening.

Despite the act he was putting on, he didn't hate the idea of you playing with his nipples all that much, he just hated looking weak in front of anyone, and he knew better than anyone how weak his nipples made him. You pressed a kiss to his shoulder as Toji turned his head back around to watch your hands caress his abdomen. His cock was already half hard, and it was slowly getting harder the more you touched him. 

You were sitting on some pillows to make yourself a little taller, that way you could actually see what you were doing over his bulky shoulders, but even then your view was a little obstructed. You had tried to introduce the idea of a mirror, but Toji had shut it down faster than you could even fully finish your proposal. The possibility of you seeing his debauched expressions during this sent shivers down his spine.

"You're so good to me Toji." You giggled, continuing to press little kisses on the expanse of his shoulders. "Oh trust me, I know." He responded cockily, shaking his head. Toji sucked a breath in through his teeth when your lips made contact with the nape of his neck. He sighed loudly, trying to keep his breathing steady when you focused your attention there, the kisses becoming harder, traveling higher up his nape, the short hairs on the back of his neck tickling your lips. 

"Do you like it when I kiss you here?" You asked him quietly. Toji grimaced, "Don't use my words agaisnt me." He said, his eyes darting around the room. You smiled to yourself, knowing this was getting him worked up. You trailed your fingers down to the hem of his boxers, where his cock was now fully hard and straining agaisnt the fabric. Toji pressed his lips together, swallowing hard as he waited for you to breach the waistline of his boxers and pull his cock out, even though he knew you wouldn't.

"Don't tease me like that if you aren't gonna touch my cock." Toji said, feeling himself throb at the neglect. "Sorry Toji, if you cum without it I'll let you fuck my throat as a reward, kay?" You said, instantly making him feel better.

Tonight's proposition went like this. Toji promised you could do anything with him for your birthday, and of course, you chose to play with the one thing that was usually off-limits- his nipples. You told him you wanted to make him cum from nipple play alone. You knew he could do it, he was just too defiant to let you go anywhere near them. Only one time had you barely grazed your fingers across his nipples and he released the cutest sound, a sound too cute to come from such a big and scary man like Toji Fushiguro.

You so desperately wanted to hear it again. The desperate sound replayed over and over in your head almost every night as you went to bed. Toji reluctantly agreed after tons and tons of negotiation. Toji tried to steer you away from the idea and instead offered Shibari or blindfolded him, but you knew what you wanted and weren't going to give in for anything. 

"Fuck..." Toji groaned, his cock twitching at the thought of getting to shove it down your throat when this was all over. If you had mentioned that compromise when you had first brought this proposal to light, maybe he would've been a little more receptive to the idea. "Whatever just... just do your shit," Toji said, his back muscles flexing against your chest as he leaned against you, getting comfortable. You tightened your legs over his thighs, your ankles pressed just under where his boxers ended, too close to his cock. The pressure from your ankles on his thigh alone was driving him crazy.

"Don't worry, I don't think this will take very long." You reassured teasingly, poking a jab at just how sensitive his chest really was. Toji watched with bated breath as your hands slowly started traveling up his body, away from his cock. A small patch of wetness had started to form where Toji's tip sat behind his boxers, his pre wetting the fabric all wet.

You felt his breath rise and fall quicker when you reached his chest. Toji was internally battling with himself. He couldn't decide if he wanted to watch your hands play with him, or if he needed to look away. Your hands groped the sides of his heavy chest and squished it inward, making it look like he had cleavage. The sight made you smile as you rested your chin on his shoulder, your head tipping against his. "So big..." you said, repressing a giggle.

"You think you're so funny, huh?" Toji said, licking his teeth. Though he sounded ticked off, he was grateful for the playfulness. He would never admit it out loud, but he was nervous. His skin was practically buzzing with it, so your actions now were helping him calm down. "I do actually." You replied, rubbing your head affectionately against his as you continued to massage his massive chest together, making sure to stay away from his nipples for the time being.

You kept massaging him for long enough until all the humor had died down and you just rested on his chest with a focused face, watching the way his chest moved under your ministrations. Toji was getting fidgety at this point, he would rather you touch his nipples already and make him cum than teasing him like this. Your fingers would get so close, but never close enough. He hated to admit it but he had started to crave feeling you there.

Toji tipped his head back against your shoulder, pushing his hips upwards against your legs hooked over his as he got more comfortable. "You okay?" You asked, gazing at the side of his handsome face. His eyes were focused on the ceiling as you spoke. "Just wondering when 'ur gonna do something," Toji said in a bored tone. If it wasn't for his massive boner creating such a large wet patch in his boxers, you would've really believed he was bored.

You smiled and pressed a kiss to the side of his face. "Can I take that as you want me to touch your nipples?" You said, gauging his response. You watched Toji's Adam's apple bob hard as he swallowed whatever saliva was left in his mouth. You hit the nail right on the head, but it was going to take a little more coaxing to get it out of Toji. "No." He said flatly, his eyes fluttering slightly.

You pouted and looked down to his chest before you released the fat of them and started slowly tracing your nails around his areolas, still not touching them, but a hair's length away from doing so. "No?" You repeated, looking back up at him. Toji was adamant about staring at the ceiling, not wanting you to see his expression falter.

Toji pressed his lips together again, his eyes falling shut for half a second longer than normal. If you weren't paying attention, you would've missed it. You kept up that motion, slowly circling his nipples before changing the direction, circling them the other way. Now, his breathing had picked up significantly and was much more noticeable and less suppressed than before.

"Toji..." You said softly, making a choked moan cut off in his throat. "You're dripping." You said, exposing the obvious. Toji dropped his head down from staring at the ceiling and found his cock with his eyes. His mouth dropped open ever so slightly, his arousal almost getting to the point of being too much to bear. 

Your eyes never once left his face. You felt yourself throb between the legs watching how effective this type of teasing was at getting him so worked up. You'd never seen his face so flushed before, it was almost the color of his blushing chest. "Fuck..." Toji groaned, licking his teeth in annoyance. On one hand, he, really, reallllllyyy wanted you to touch his chest, but on the other hand, if he begged, you would never let him live it down. 

Your words interrupted his internal dilemma. "Toji, just tell me you want it. I'm not asking you to be specific how you ask me to. Just tell me you need it... please." You begged, tipping your head against his again, trying to comfort him. Toji shut his eyes, his breath coming out stuttered and shaky each time you switched the direction of your fingers around his nipples. 

With one last heavy sigh, he spoke. "N...need it." He said quietly, his entire face flushing a deep red as a look of displeasure spread across his features. A smile of satisfaction spread across your face, and you squeezed your thighs around his solid body a little harder, forcing his lower back to press against your cunt a little, giving you some relief.

"Good boy Toji," you said. You would absolutely be paying for talking to him like that later, but right now it didn't matter. Giving him no time to rebut, you finally dragged your fingertips to his nipples, raking them up and down, keeping the pressure light at first. Toji jolted forward hard, a sharp breath could be heard getting inhaled from the man in front of you. "Relax." You said, pressing against his abdomen and pulling him back against you before you brought your attention to his nipples again.

Toji's thighs flexed agaisnt your ankles, his cock twitching hard behind his briefs. You started up the circle motion again this time touching his actual nipples each time you went around. Toji's abs clenched each time you made a full circle, followed by loud gasps and choked groans. He was fighting it. "Toji you can let your voice out. It's hot." You told him before flicking his nipples up and down a little faster, increasing the pressure.

Toji shook his head, his teeth baring the open air as his face was screwed in what would appear to be a pained expression, only he was feeling far from pain right now. "I won't tease you Toji, promise." You said, increasing the pressure once more, virtually giving him no room to fight against it. Toji's hair tickled your skin as his head jerked back and forth against you, his body trying to deal with experiencing such pleasure.

You wet so wet, you didn't know how much more of this you could take. His foreign expressions and reactions were turning you on more than you thought they would. When Toji's teeth separated and his jaw fell open, the first noise that fell out of his mouth was just like the same one you heard all those months ago. "F-fuck!!" Toji groaned, his moans and whines falling freely from his lips now.

Your eyebrows were furrowed in pleasure as you watched him, he looked so hot. "God, it feels good huh?" You asked, not being able to contain your own little noises, only spurring him on. Toji felt mortified, but the pleasure he was feeling helped negate some of that embarrassment. He nodded, before his face scrunched in pleasure, his teeth occasionally baring into the room when you touched his nipples particularly harshly. 

"Goddd.... C-cum, g-gonna cum." Toji groaned, doing his best to keep the whines and whimpers down. You stopped when you heard him say that, a lightbulb going off in your head. Toji breathed heavily into the air, his body relaxing against you now that you'd stopped, save for his cock which was twitching with the need for release. "What the fuck... is your problem?" Toji complained, anger seeping into his brain now that you had taken his orgasm away from him.

"Just hold on, think you'll like this a lot better," you said ambiguously, patting your palms over his pecs before you slid out from behind him. Toji looked at you with furrowed brows as you slung your legs over his lap, just under his cock, and pulled down his boxers. His eyes fluttered as his cock was released from the confines of the annoying fabric. 

It slapped loudly against his abdomen, his length completely wet with his pre-cum and still dribbling agaisnt his skin. "Though you weren't touchin' my cock?" Toji asked, his voice coming out more desperate and airy than he would've liked. Stradling his cock, you grabbed it with one hand, making him wince, before you reached down and pulled your panties to the side, looking back up at him. "I changed my mind."

Toji watched with wide eyes as you lined his cock up with your entrance. His hands shot out to grab your waist for stability, his hands shaky as they touched you. Toji released a long groan when you slid down on his cock, the stretch made easier thanks to how wet the both of you were. "Holy fuuuuuck, ohmygod you're so fucking warm." Toji groaned, his head tipping back against the headboard now that you weren't behind him.

You released some of your own noises as he split you open, his cock filling you so nicely, just how you wanted. Toji knew he wasn't going to last long like this, but little did he know that's why you did this. Before you were even halfway down on his cock, you reached out for his chest and pinched his nipples harshly, rubbing them between your fingers.

Toji's eyes shot open, his legs curling in on himself as his body jerked, forcing his cock fully inside of you. "F-fuck fuck, w-what are you doing?" Toji asked, panic in his tone as he looked down at you tweaking his nipples. You felt his cock kick against your walls, already ready to spill his seed again. "Though you would like it if I milked your orgasm out of you while I play with your chest." You said smiling, doing your best to keep your words coherent, and even despite how badly you wanted to whine and cry like you normally did on his cock.

Toji groaned at your words as you started bouncing up and down, his cock jamming against your g-spot with every thrust. "F-u-uu-uuck-" He groaned, his body falling limply agaisnt the sheets as you rode him. His jaw went slack and his eyes rolled back repeatedly in his head each time you jumped up and down on him. "G-onna cumm, gonna cum, g-gonna cum-" Toji repeated, his hips weakly fucking up into yours as your fingers raked up and down on his nipples, your nails catching them and making his abs clench each time.

"I know baby I know, can feel you twitchin'. Cum inside me Toji, let it out I got you." You sounded like him when you were cumming, it would've made you giggle if you weren't so enthralled with Toji's actions right now. Usually, when he came, his teeth were pressed firmly together and he let out loud, deep grunts. Now though, his mouth was open, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes fluttered in his head as he was worked up to his orgasm.

Toji was gripping you so hard, you knew instantly you were going to have dark bruises there in the morning. Toji's legs started to spread, and his back arched ever so slightly as you went back to pinching his nipples, rocking back and forth on his cock as you bounced up and down, trying to give him as much stimulation as possible. 

"A-ahhh a-ah fuuuuuck- f-ah-" Toji came with a high-pitched whine before his noises turned into groans and grunts as his cock twitched and sprayed his thick cum out inside you. "Keep fillin' me up Toji, feels so g-good fuck." You whined, feeling hot all over as you worked him through his orgasm, your tight walls milking his cock.

His balls throbbed with his release, his seed getting fucked so deep inside you thanks to the angle. His orgasm seemed to last longer than normal, probably thanks to your fingers on his chest. His abs spasmed and jerked inward with his high, his head shaking back and forth against the sheets. "St-hahhh." Toji tried to tell you to stop when he felt you fucking him into overstimulation, but his words failed to find him.

Immediately you stopped, keeping his cock snug inside your walls as you finally ceased your attack on his chest. Leaning forward you grabbed his face with your hands, cradling him as you started pressing kisses all over his cheeks, eyelids, forehead, anywhere your lips could reach.

"Toji, thank you Toji, thank you thank you thank youuuu." You repeated softly between kisses. Toji was still basking in the aftershocks of his orgasm, his arms leaving your hips to wrap tightly around your body, keeping you flush against him. "Are you okay? Wasn't too much right?" You asked, pulling back to look at his face. Toji's eyes were glossy and all out of focus, and his face was flushed red and dripping with sweat, and still, he had the audacity to look at you and say, "I'm fine. I'm not a baby like you."

You jerked your head back in surprise, your jaw falling open at his words. You just fucked him dumb and he still had the energy to be a bitch? Tsking at him you gripped his cheeks, making his lips pursed together like a fish as you shook his head back and forth. "You sure sounded like one a minute ago." You spat back, squinting your eyes at him. 

You swear you saw Toji's eye twitch before your head was pressed harshly into the crook of his neck, his large hand firmly on the back of your head. "Bitch. Said you wouldn't bring that shit up." Toji pouted, feeling his face heat up at your words. You snorted before biting his neck teasingly, feeling his body harden underneath you at the action.

"You lie all the time, I can do it too." You said, wrapping your arms around his neck. Toji shook his head, feeling himself soften inside your walls. He knew you said you would let him throatfuck you after this, but honestly, Toji didn't know if he had anything left to give you. He was sure you had taken every last drop of his cum from his balls just moments ago.

"Brat. Happy birthday, hope you enjoyed yourself." Toji said, closing his eyes as he released his hand from your head, wrapping his arms around you once more. "I did, I did very much." You answered, feeling extremely satisfied and content when Toji sighed loudly at your words, his breath tickling the back of your neck.