#so many feeeels

[madddays]

makeup remover | myg

pairing: min yoongi x reader (f)

synopsis: he looks so good, flushed and soft.

rating: like... mentions of sex

word count: short

genre: fluff ig? slice of life? idk. established relationship

i’m high as hell and watching the shooting sketch and i want him so bad sorry

--

Yoongi hasn’t fully washed off the heavy waterproof makeup they’d used on him tonight. You can feel it, sticky and oily, where his cheek is resting on your naked chest. Can smell the waxiness.

Glancing down from your phone, you brush your fingers through his black hair and shiver at the puff of breath across your breast when he sighs. Mmm, it’s cold in the hotel room and he’s so warm...

Suddenly the Elon Musk bullying Twitter thread wasn’t as interesting as it was a couple of seconds ago. 

“Baby,” you murmur, dragging your nails oh-so gently down the back of his neck. “Watcha doin’?” 

His lips moving in reply against your skin are driving you to insanity far too quickly. “Nothin’.” he grunts. “So many emails I’ll never read.” He feels your laugh under his face, coming back from his zone-out and dropping his own phone to the mattress. He registers the dull scrape against his sensitive skin and you feel the first signs of life against your leg. So easy.

“You should do me instead.”

The sweat removes his makeup just fine.

[kristsune]

I finally actually started watching PoI because of you and I love them your honor! im on episode 3 "I'm sorry i blew your work cover so I looked for new jobs :) maybe a dog walker :))" I LOVE THEM YOUR HONOR

EHEHEHE YESSSS YEEESSSSSS

they are so wonderful i love them SO much!! and you have SO much to look forward to. There is an episode called Numbers Crunch later in season 1 that makes me feral even thinking about it. good luck when you get there.

[doctornerdington]

My whole life I’ve been singing the Messiah every Christmas, and I never even imagined it could/would be queered. I’m SO excited for this. The concept alone engenders so much joy, I’m probably going to explode with it on the night.

[kuwdora]

wip wednesday

Alright, here's an excerpt from the puppetskier story. Jaskier is having a rough day and got caught up in some student celebrations. He'll go with the flow but for now...

“Marcella! Your doll looks like that bard,” a girl yelled, her face far too close to Jaskier. Her eyes were very dilated, her smile was wide and loose. She wore several of the necklaces the artists had tossed, and her cheek was smeared with ink–some emblem that Jaskier couldn’t make out through the sweat and ale.

“What bard?” Marcella yelled above the off-key singing.

“The one from Cidaris. That Valdo. He’s got the nose and eyes for it.” She pinched Jaskier’s cheek and pushed back his hair. Clearly too drunk and stoned to know what she was seeing.

“Valdo Marx has the face of a rectal prolapse,” Jaskier said. Marcella shook her head in disagreement.

“Wait, he’s actually missing something,” Hazel Eyes said, rummaging into a pocket in her vest. She pulled out a thin slip of paper, licked it and then slapped it above Jaskier’s lip.

“What! The fuck!” Jaskier yelled, slapping her hands away and scrambling at his face. Being turned into a puppet and kidnapped by students was one thing, this was an insult on a whole other level. “Oh, I see it now,” Marcella said, grabbing Jaskier’s tiny hand and peeling the tacky slip of paper from his face. Her eyes widened and she gasped theatrically.

“The mustache! You’re completely right! He does look like Valdo.” She slipped Jaskier onto her hand and waved him around to the crowd and the students erupted in cheers. Someone threw a lump of wrapped taffy at Jaskier. It bounced off his chest and Hazel Eyes caught it with a squeal.

Even on his worst day he looked nothing like Valdo. Jaskier would have vomited on the students by now as a form of self-defense if he had a stomach or anything to spew.

[legaciestold]

march 29th, 2009 rp drabble/rp lead-in included: claire, sherry, & leon (+ chris, jill, and ingrid mentions) also pertains to @everythingheard

moe's did a decent amount of business considering how difficult it could be to find at times and the state of the rest of the block it was on with boards still on the sides of the two buildings next door. the light outside shone bright now at least, though. six months ago a fire had had taken out the bakery and comic book shops next to it. luckily the fire department had managed to stop the blaze before it'd fully engulfed the restaurant but the damage had still been extensive and the other businesses had taken their insurance payout and relocated. moe's on the other hand had been a staple in the area for years even if it wasn't really known to people outside of the neighborhood (claire had only stumbled upon it on accident years ago and come there ever since) and no one had been willing to stand idly by when the insurance company hadn't been willing to cover as much as they believed they should have.

that's why claire had helped out with the fundraiser that had been formed to help moe get the place back in shape. it'd been a testament to humanity, a flicker of reassurance that there was still good out there even when claire had seen the worst people were capable of so often both in raccoon and in the images seared into her mind both from her time with terrasave and now with the bprd. moe had been brought to tears when he'd been presented with a check and the commitment by the local construction company to help because moe had helped them out by sending them free food when the family-run company had one of it's members in the hospital and most of the workers hadn't thought to ensure they were getting meals during that awful time. sherry had made cookies to help raise money too when she'd found out about it and those cookies remained edible even if claire's track record with cookies had become a legendary joke that she always seemed the butt of. (she has half a mind to make coal-looking cookies and put them in christmas stockings this year.)

the restaurant's comfortably busy on this lazy sunday afternoon as sun filters through the window and angelica-- the waitress that always rotated weekend shifts with their usual server diane-- greets them at the counter. the scene causes a strange sort of feeling to wash over claire when she stops angelica and tells her that actually, maybe they'll sit on the other side today and the waitress looks at her quizzically but then offers a soft smile. for a decade they've always sat in the back, a little further off from the other tables but in full sight of both the entrance and the side door that led out to the alley. a mix of habit and ensured and required security. still, perhaps the fact claire is on a first name basis with the staff of the pizza joint is an indication that she's provided sherry with a few unhealthy eating habits over the years. yet, in a strange kind of way, this restaurant has been with them all nearly as long as raccoon and seen glimpses into the various aspects of her, sherry, and leon's lives over the years.

sometimes claire wonders what they must look like to diane or angelica or even moe who always seemed to have a new kind of desert ready for sherry (despite the fact it was a pizza joint and not an ice cream parlor), even after the girl had graduated high school. the amazed wonder on sherry's face never had seemed to dissipate upon the new creations either, even if sherry was about to enter training to become an agent of the same government that'd run more tests than any of them could count on her for years. claire thinks, on the surface, maybe, they look like any other family coming in for lunch at their favorite restaurant but she also knows even if they'd only ever skirted the line of information and frankly the bizarre too that some inferences have been made on the part of the staff and maybe that's also gone both ways at times. loud noises always made claire's eyes dart to the doors in her line of sight. when her, leon, and sherry came there it was just them but over the years when claire has brought sherry 'by themselves' there was always one of three men who'd seat themselves at the diner-style counter across the room, not actively part of their little group but still present as they always were when claire took sherry places. claire had hated that, at first before she'd grown to accept it and a par to claire wonders if it really was a kind of resigned acceptance at just being used to it or because somewhere along the way she'd started to actually-- at least to a point-- allowed herself some amount of trust in simmons especially after he'd gotten sherry into that school even if that'd taken a hit after prismya and claire found out he was the one who blackmailed leon, or some combination of all factors.

(they hadn't followed her to work or when she went out, except that one terrible month terra save had gotten those horrid threats and simmons had insisted they watch her too. but they were always present when sherry went out places. it'd been the price they paid for government protection. distant enough to not always be readily noticed at her insistence, but always there.)

claire had also grown fairly invested in the ever-developing relationship that seemed to be agent blake and diane even if she wouldn't readily admit to such. but people weren't stupid. the staff knew something had been up and had accepted them as being regulars at the restaurant for a decade. they'd seen sherry grow up, sherry even bringing her two best friends there and causing the usual shadow agent to have two others there too. claire imagines that might have been a bit of a comical scene and also grants the boys some credit since this place likely wasn't a usual kind of place they'd frequent. the staff had also seen jill and chris on a few occasions earlier on as they'd all come to have dinner. they'd seen hell.boy once too, when they were closing and he'd been in the transport directly after a mission and she'd picked up about ten pizzas she'd pre-ordered to bring back and while he was supposed to stay hidden, hell.boy hadn't and moe hadn't reacted in the way she'd believed he would which had only ever caused claire to have more questions than answers about moe's own origins and why he'd reacted as if he saw people like hell.boy all the time. but moe never asked her to reveal her secrets so she hadn't asked him either. they'd seen them all in various states of healing bodily harm too and while claire knows from the looks they'd get they itched to ask, they never did. there'd been a kind of acceptance across the board. and there's a kind of hidden communication in this moment that passes between them all too, as chairs are pulled out at a table and angelica says she'll be right back with their usual drinks.

there's an understanding in the fact that claire has moved their table that something has changed even if angelica doesn't know what.

there's also a knowing smile that claire sees mirrored in sherry and leon's faces too even if claire still seats herself angled to one of the doors and leon does other. old habits die hard and they are all too aware of the world they live in even in the moments like these they determine to forget it for awhile. blue-gray hues move across the restaurant and meet moe's who peeks his head out and waves at them, claire smiling back brightly and offering one in return. idly claire wonders if they have a betting pool on if their group is some super secret spy family right out of spy k.ids or if one of them has endeavored to try to look leon up and believes he's taken up after his long-dead family on the crime scene. huh, actaully, maybe not that; for some reason claire thinks maybe the government or more likely hunnigan may have wiped his connection to that, at least publicly. she's never had reason to check, leon's told her about his family and for that matter, jill has mentioned a few things she knew about them too. that was a bit of a mind-fuck, that while maybe claire and leon certainly knew each other longer in terms of time spent together, technically jill met leon first. what would that have looked like if zombies had never happened and they all had met at the police station in raccoon?

it's all rather fantastical and claire bites back a chuckle, her knee gently brushing against leon's under the table as they shift to start sipping their drinks when angelica brings them. maybe he's thinking the same things she is. it doesn't really matter either way.

there's something lighter about this sunday and it's filtering through every moment as it passes. because even if they are all aware there's still danger out there, one of those dangers which has lingered over them for years is gone. albert wes.ker is dead and with him the last trace of umbrella even if technically speaking it'd been almost six since the fall of the company and three since spencer's death.

i don't know where you are trent, but i hope this brings you peace too, claire thinks.

(or at least the old umbrella, claire was reserving both judgement and the right to believe it could be just as bad when it came to blue umbrella; after all, claire knew that chris hadn't been thrilled about their contract to supply the bsaa with weapons to use against bo.w.s that'd been implemented two years ago.)

and, chris had jill back.

that and the fact that sherry was joining the dso meant that the 'protections' that had laid upon the edges of claire's life for almost a decade would now ease. it meant agent blake wasn't gonna be coming to the restaurant with them anymore, though claire had the feeling she'd still see him at the restaurant.

oh, she'd bet money on it.

and claire thought she'd be okay with that. blake had always been nice and endeavored to make the situation feel more like a friendship than a secret protection detail. he asked sherry about school and even was college friends with one of sherry's friend's details. claire had a certain level of trust in him that she'd never completely had with the other two agents who always felt so much more rigid and.. well, spy-like. if she had to guess that anyone was actively reporting back to simmons (no matter the tentative trust he'd managed to get from her because she had come to believe that despite the fucked up history there in the aftermath of raccoon and the deal that haunted her and leon's chance at a relationship for so many years, that surely simmons did care about sherry and her own well-being after so many years) about their lives-- which she hated the idea of--, she'd have banked on it being them and not blake and claire really hoped she wasn't wrong about that.

"so i was thinking, maybe we should all take a trip to new york before sherry starts her training." claire says, the cherry flavor of her soda lingering in her mouth as she looks from her daughter to her boyfriend.

god, three years of her calling him that and it still did strange things to her.

the shift between them both changing everything and nothing at all because they were still them, it hadn't been some monumental moment like in the prince.ss diaries but a moment where they'd let themselves see everything and choose to embrace it. so really, they acted much the same, had the same care and love and everything in-between that had always existed between them, there was just... kissing and sex included now.

"i think it'd do jill good to see some friendly faces that aren't trying to make her a lab rat and only want to fill her in on all the episodes of psych she missed." there's a kind of weighted tension on the edges of what she says but a kind of lightness too. because wes.ker was dead and they had jill back and claire thinks that maybe, finally, no matter what the bprd or dso or the joint task force throw at them in-between, maybe they all-- especially her brother-- could finally breathe again. if only until the next crisis the universe decided to throw at them.

the rest of the day goes rather unceremoniously, a rarity that no alerts managed to come to any of their phones and they could just exist in the moment and this little blip of normalcy. distantly she wonders if ingrid has something to do with it and if she does, she's entirely grateful for the day of respite that they are all being blessed with. and well, sherry was talking about moe's latest creation for days to come even if claire and leon's daughter was twenty-two and no longer the twelve-year-old his first sundae creation had been given to.

[marthawrites]

Oh my god I am so in love with your modern Aemond stories 😩 This one has me feeling all kinds of emotions ahhh! I relate to this particular one quite a bit. I definitely relate to Aemond. Thank you for this 💖

𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 – modern!aemond targaryen x gn! reader

summary: requested by anon for the 777 follower celebration: I think ‘sweet nothing’ by Taylor Swift would really suit modern!aemond, as someone who’s never felt like just him is enough and has been immersed in a world of people wanting more and more from him but not just him himself

tags: domestic fluff, aemond having an eldest daughter (kinda) complex, otto hightower being capitalism personified

note: i just think...acts of service are so attractive, but also being conscious of where his love language stems from

・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

There's a doodle of a flower on the shower door, when you enter the bathroom after Aemond in the morning, drawn crudely in the steamed-up glass. It’s such a mundane thing, but it makes you smile and when you go to find him after your teeth are brushed, you can’t help smacking a kiss on the side of his head.

He sits at the breakfast nook with the paper in one hand and a mug of tea in the other. At intervals, his phone beeps on the table where he’s laid it facing up to glance over at the notifications that begin to roll in as the world begins to wake. You spy his grandfather and mother amongst the texts of people vying for his attention.

“I made toast,” he murmurs, and sets his mug down to grasp yours as you sit down, squeezing your fingers. “I got that jam you liked.”

“When did you go shopping?” your brows pull together in confusion. “Got home late last night, didn’t you?”

He averts his eyes back to the paper, and you frown.

“I went earlier this morning, when they opened.”

His name leaves your mouth, surprised and a little chastising. You had, in fairness, mentioned wanting to get a bit more of it after having tried it at his mother’s, but when you’d said that to him there had been no urgency in it–you hadn’t meant for him to get up early so you might have some for breakfast. You’re quietly charmed at the gesture, and it makes your heart tremble a little, but you frown still.

He looks so shy – in his own, particular, Aemond way – that you can’t find it in yourself to say anything on it further, only thanking him quietly with a kiss to his cheek and an offering of half your toast. He doesn’t take it, to your dismay, but you grin when he takes a small bite to appease you.

He tastes of sugared jelly when he kisses you goodbye.

It’s when Aemond offers more and more of himself that you begin to realise that fixing things is his particular brand of loving. He knows nothing about plumbing, has no business poking around under your sink, but there he is, Saturday morning, asking you to hand him a wrench – all of this occurring after he makes you breakfast – from a very obviously unused (see: new) toolbox. He refuses to hear a word of your protests that you’ll just get someone, a professional, preferably, to look at it. Finally, sick of your nervous objections, he turns around to look at you, hovering in the kitchen doorway nervously fidgeting with the hem of your t-shirt, and says mildly,

“My love, if I fuck up your sink, I promise I’ll have someone look at it. But you shouldn’t have to pay for that.”

“We could save time and just have someone look at it now,” you persist, unconvinced and starting to come to an uncomfortable realisation.

You don’t recall what follows, only that in the end, whatever manual he’d pored over had not failed him, but a few weeks later you’re sitting in the car and trying not to cry.

Alicent Hightower is a beautiful woman and for all her wariness in the beginning of your relationship with her son, she accepts you with nothing but warmth, now. But you’re high alert as you enter her home behind your partner, a half-formed hypothesis in your mind and ready to collect data. It’s all incredibly scientific, and yet you’re biting at the inside of your cheek when you see the way Aemond silently hovers, nodding in quiet discussion with his grandfather. You hear the words, “You could be great” and something about potential and feel ill when your lover’s face twists with the effort of keeping his displeasure at bay.

At dinner, he fusses over you tenfold. And because you suspect it’s more for him than you, you allow him to stroke the back of your neck as he checks in every few minutes, spooning food onto your plate and pouring water into your glass wordlessly. 

Red washes over him as the car comes to a stop by a light. He hazards a look over at you, and you’re gripping the steering wheel so tightly he worries it might snap.

“Is everything alright?”

“You know you don’t have to earn love, right?” you blurt out thickly and a silence follows your question that lasts long enough for you to begin wondering whether you’ve ruined things. But you continue, swallowing your fear. “Not with anyone, least of all me. I don’t expect you to - to work yourself to the bone, or get up and get me stupid things at the expense of your sleep like I’ll be upset with you if you don’t. I love you for it, but I don’t need you to do these things–I just want you. I don’t need you to trouble yourself the way you’ve been, for everyone else. I want you to rest. To be happy, not…not running around like an errand boy. You do enough of that for Otto Hightower.”

The words come out in a rush and and an even louder silence follows your speech. 

“He thinks I could be doing more,” he says finally, and you struggle to keep your face impassive, staring straight ahead blankly as the light changes and the car starts again. “It isn’t enough for him, that I spent nearly all my time working for that company, with nothing to show for it. He wants me to do more.”

He lets out a bitter laugh, and the sound makes your heart wrench. In the corner of your eye, you see him turn to you.

“Do you think there’s any truth to his words?”

“Not a chance in hell,” you say immediately. The sight of your neighbourhood comes into view, and the light left on in the front room of your house, orange against a twilight sky, brings you some comfort. The both of you sit in the driveway, turned in your seats to face each other. You reach for his hand, clutching his fingers assuringly.

“You said it so yourself,” you point out, “you do so much already. Even when you aren’t working, I doubt whether you’re actually resting. You look after everyone.”

You reach out to touch his face, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, having fallen loose from the confines of his hairtie. “Don’t listen to him. You aren’t worth any less if you’re not killing yourself for his ends.”

His eye slips closed and he lets out an exhale tiredly, the burst of air tickling your palm. You lean forward to press your mouth to his cheek, the scarred skin jumping under your touch.

“You’re doing good,” you murmur against him, arms wrapping around his neck loosely. The centre console between you digs into your middle, but you lean into him anyway when he tugs you closer. 

“You’d tell me if I wasn’t?” he asks, and you kiss his jaw.

“Always,” you promise, and lean back to look at him. “Come inside? I don’t want to spend the rest of our evening talking about your grandfather.”

“In a moment, my love,” he agrees. “I want to stay like this for a little longer.”

“Whatever you want,” you promise softly. 

fin.

RE TAG LISTS: If you would like to be tagged in fics, I have a permanent tag list for all fics I post, and a separate one for my series bane of my existence. Please send an ask if you want to be added to either, as it is easier for me to keep track of tags this way!

permanent tag list (crossed out means i couldn’t tag you): @graykageyama @wannabe-goblin-king @kgyoru @widemiffyhappy @melsunshine-blog @chattylurker @lauraneedstochill @urlocalavenderhazestan @alexxavicry @honey-allergic @ichanelvxgue @risefallrise @scarlets-widow @okfashionista @snh96 @targaryenmoony

[tempobaekh]

Light in the darkness

Pairings: grumpy!bucky x sunshine!nurse!f!reader

Warnings: little bit of angst, a bit of asshole bucky, hurt to comfort, kind of enemies to lovers but it’s mostly buck, no reader physical description so can be read as any appearance, female reader

A/N: got inspired to write this one after i came across @apparentlytheproblem account and enemies to lovers prompt list. there is a lot of good stuff there so i thank her for motivating me to write this, I used some of the prompts from that list, they will be highlighted in the fic. also got the trope inspiration from @buckyalpine (I absolutely love your writing) this fic here I absolutely love it, with perfect amount of angst and cuteness please go read it!! anyways enough of my yapping, enjoy reading!!<3 (also please listen to these two in this order for more feels, I myself was listening to them while writing this and omfg it got me in the feeeels)

The infirmary of the Avengers compound is a well-lit, sterile environment, but you've managed to make it warm with your presence.

Cute little potted plants all over that were practically your babies, small fidgeting gadgets for anyone to fidget with (particularly for Bruce and Tony), small snacks placed in different containers scattered around the infirmary (frequently emptied by Tony), and a few stuffed animals placed here and there, all meant to make the space less intimidating.

You’ve always been a naturally optimistic person, someone who sees the best in everyone and everything. The Avengers compound, with its high-stakes missions and often tense atmosphere, was a perfect place for you to share your sunny disposition.

The team appreciated it—your laughter, your kindness, your unwavering positivity. They said you were a breath of fresh air, a light in the often dark world they navigated.

Every day, you greet the team with a cheerful smile, your laughter echoing through the corridors like a soothing melody. Everyone seems to love you—everyone except for Bucky Barnes.

From the moment Bucky set foot in the compound, he knew he was out of place. Haunted by his past, he kept his distance from everyone, preferring the silence and solitude of his own company, he mostly stuck to Steve and would occasionally have a Sam-sized problem hanging behind him.

He barely speaks to anyone, and when he does, it’s usually to snap or grumble. With you, he’s even worse. There’s an edge to his voice, a coldness in his eyes that seems to cut through your sunny disposition like a knife.

When he first saw you, with your bright smile and cheerful demeanor, he felt a strange pang in his chest—a mix of longing and irritation.

You were everything he felt he could never be again: light-hearted, carefree, a beacon of hope in a world that still felt foreign and hostile to him.

A world where he was still hated by some- or many.

Every time you laughed, it reminded him of what he had lost, of the darkness that had claimed his tortured and scarred soul. He hated that feeling, that reminder, and by extension, he hated that you were the one to evoke it.

From the moment you met him, he seemed determined to extinguish your light. His coldness was a stark contrast to your warmth, his gruff demeanor a perpetual challenge to your cheerful one.

At first, you chalked it up to his history, his need for time to adjust and heal. You were patient, giving him space while still trying to make him feel welcome.

Every day, you made small efforts to connect with him. You brought him coffee with extra sugar, hoping the gesture would soften his grumpy exterior. You cracked light-hearted jokes, trying to coax a smile out of him. You even complimented his metal arm, not out of pity, but genuine admiration. Yet, every attempt was met with indifference or a sharp retort.

Your jokes were often greeted with a curt nod or a dismissive grunt, and your compliments seemed to make him even more uncomfortable, his eyes narrowing as if questioning your sincerity.

Despite your efforts Bucky kept his distance and rejected. When you brought him coffee with extra sugar, he grumbled about preferring it black.

“I prefer my coffee black,” he would say, barely looking at you as he set the cup aside, not noticing the hurt look on your face.

When you made light-hearted jokes, he responded with curt nods or dismissive remarks. When you complimented his metal arm, he saw it as pity, a reminder of his brokenness. Your persistent cheerfulness was like a spotlight on his scars, and he resented you for it.

But deep down, Bucky knew that his anger wasn't really directed at you. It was aimed at himself, at the man he used to be and the man he thought he could never become again.

Your presence forced him to confront emotions he had buried deep within himself—emotions he didn't know how to handle. Every time you tried to break through his defenses, it was like a chisel chipping away at the walls he had built around his heart, and it terrified him.

Each brush-off, each cold response, chipped away at your resolve, leaving you more confused and hurt.

It wasn’t just the rejection that stung; it was the feeling that you were the only one he treated this way.

Everyone else seemed to get along with him fine, or at least, they didn’t bear the brunt of his sharp edges. You couldn’t understand why you were the exception, why he seemed to harbor a special kind of disdain just for you.

You tried not to let it show, maintaining your sunny facade for the sake of the team. But inside, every encounter with Bucky left a small, invisible wound.

You would smile through the pain, and laugh through the hurt, but the weight of his rejection grew heavier with each passing day.

Nights were the hardest, lying in bed replaying your interactions, wondering what you had done to earn his ire. Wondering and thinking where you went wrong, blaming everything on yourself.

And yet, despite the pain, you found yourself drawn to him. Maybe it was the challenge he represented, the mystery of his cold exterior, and the glimpses of vulnerability you occasionally saw.

There were moments, fleeting and rare, where you caught a glimpse of something softer in his eyes—a hint of sorrow, a flicker of regret. Those moments made you wonder about the man beneath the armor, the soul behind the scowl.

Gradually, your frustration and sadness turned into something more complex.

You began to care for him, despite his harshness.

You noticed the way his jaw clenched when he was upset, the way his eyes softened when he thought no one was watching, the way he fiddled with either his dog tags around his neck or his sleeve when he would get anxious, the way the sound of any whirring machine close to him would subtly make him jump.

You saw the pain he carried, the ghosts that haunted him, and your heart ached for him.

You wanted to reach out, to comfort him, to show him that he didn’t have to face his demons alone.

But every time you tried, he pushed you away, and it hurt more than you cared to admit.

Your feelings grew in the quiet moments, in the way you found yourself thinking about him even when he wasn’t around, in the way your heart raced at the sound of his voice, even when it was laced with irritation.

You realized you were falling for him, despite his best efforts to keep you at arm’s length.

You were falling for James Buchanan Barnes.

And he hated you.

One evening, after a particularly brutal mission, you’re restocking the infirmary when the door slams open. You jump, nearly dropping a box of gauze.

When Bucky stumbled into the infirmary, bleeding and in pain, he didn't want to admit to himself why he came to you. He could have gone to anyone else, but something—an instinct, a need—drove him to seek you out.

Bucky stumbles in, clutching his side, blood seeping through his fingers. His face is pale, eyes dark with pain and something else—frustration? Anger? It’s hard to tell.

“Barnes!” you exclaim, rushing to his side. “What happened?”

A strange mix of emotions flooded you. Concern for his well-being, of course, but also a glimmer of hope. Hope that maybe, just maybe, this would be the moment he finally let you in.

He grunts, shaking his head as if to dismiss your concern. “Just patch me up.”

You guide him to a bed, your hands surprisingly steady given the state he’s in. You quickly gather the necessary supplies, your mind racing with questions.

Why did he come to you? He usually avoids you like the plague, very often going to Helen instead of you no matter the severity of the injury.

As you begin to clean his wound, he hisses, muscles tensing under your touch.

“Sorry,” you murmur, your tone soft.

He doesn’t respond, just watches you with those intense baby-blue eyes. It’s unnerving, but you refuse to let it shake you. Instead, you focus on your work, your movements gentle yet efficient.

Bucky watched you work with a mixture of frustration and awe. Your hands were gentle, your touch soothing, and for a moment, he allowed himself to feel vulnerable in your presence.

As you stitch him up, the silence between you grows heavier, filled with unspoken words and unexpressed emotions.

Finally, you can’t take it anymore. You wrap up the last of his wound and look him straight in the eye. “Bucky, why do you hate me so much?” your voice trembled with frustration and hurt.

He blinks, clearly taken aback by your question and his response took you by surprise. “I don’t hate you.”

You blink for a second and then scoff, shaking your head, trying to process his words. “You could’ve fooled me. You’ve been nothing but cold and an asshole since the day we met. I just don’t get it. Everyone else likes me, but you. You go out of your way to avoid me like I'm some plague! You always brush me off rudely and call me a bother when I try speaking to you only to speak with the others like it's nothing! You can't even give me the decency of respect, you pretend that I don't even exist!."

You stop, realizing you have almost gone to shouting, and take a deep breath in.

"Why?" your voice is quiet and broken, hurt and horse. Your eyes glazing with unshed tears,

Bucky felt a surge of conflicting emotions. He wanted to push you away, to keep you at a distance where you couldn't hurt him. Where he couldn't hurt you with his broken soul, and the demons from his past.

But the heart-shattering sadness on your usually lit-up face, made him also want to pull you closer, to let you in and see the parts of him he kept hidden. It was a battle between his fear and his longing, and for the first time, he felt the fear of losing.

Specifically, losing you.

“I’m not...used to feeling this way, okay?” he snaps, the admission seeming to cost him. His jaw clenches, and he looks away, refusing to meet your gaze.

For the first time, you saw something other than anger in his eyes.

Vulnerability.

Fear.

“Feeling what way?” you press, your voice shaking slightly, your frustration bubbling over. “What did I ever do to you?”

He’s silent for a long moment, the tension in the room almost suffocating. Finally, he lets out a long breath, his shoulders slumping, his emotions pressing down on him. “I feel the opposite of hate...towards you,” he admitted, his voice raw and honest.

The revelation left you breathless. All this time, you thought he despised you, but in reality, he was struggling with feelings he didn’t know how to handle. Your heart ached for him, for the battles he fought within himself.

He watched your eyes widen in surprise, your mind trying to process his words.

The words hang in the air, and you can hardly believe your ears. “You...what?” your voice barely a whisper.

Bucky turns to face you, his expression a mix of vulnerability and determination. “You heard me. I don’t hate you., far from it. You’re always so...bright and happy. It messes with my head. Makes me feel things I thought I’d forgotten how to feel. You make me realize that I can feel a romantic attraction towards someone, you make me realize that I can have some goodness in life. You make me feel want. To want something and not feel selfish.”

You blink, trying to process his confession. “You...want me?” you asked, hardly daring to believe it.

Without hesitation, he answers, “You know I do.”

A slow smile spread across your face, and for the first time in a long while, Bucky felt a glimmer of hope.

The weight of his confession settled over you, bringing with it a mixture of relief and tenderness. You smiled a slow, genuine smile that lit up your face. “Such a pretty liar, mhmm. And here I stressed over that you hated me.” you teased, your eyes sparkling with mischief.

He couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips, his usual gruff demeanor softening.

He grumbles, his cheeks flushing slightly. “Shut up and kiss me.”

You don’t need any more encouragement.

You leaned in, your lips meeting his in a sweet, tender kiss. It’s hesitant at first as if you’re both testing the waters, but it quickly deepens, the pent-up emotions of the past months pouring out in that one perfect moment. It was a kiss that spoke of all the unspoken words, the hidden feelings, the pain and hope intertwined.

When you leaned in and kissed him, it was like a dam breaking. All the emotions he had bottled up for so long—fear, longing, hope—flooded out in that one perfect moment.

Your lips were soft and warm against his, and for the first time since he could remember, he felt at peace.

As the kiss deepened, Bucky knew that things wouldn’t be easy. He still had a long way to go, and there were still demons he needed to face. But with you by his side, he felt a renewed strength, a reason to keep fighting.

When you finally pulled back, breathless and smiling, Bucky felt something he hadn’t felt in years: happiness. Maybe, just maybe, he could be more than the sum of his past mistakes. With you, he could be the man he once was—the man he wanted to be.

You pulled back, breathless and smiling, and a little dazed, you knew that this was just the beginning. It wouldn’t be easy, but for the first time, you felt like you had a chance to break through his walls, to reach the man behind the mask.

You can’t help but laugh softly. “Maybe you’re not such a grump after all.”

Bucky smirks, a rare but genuine smile lighting up his face. “Don’t push your luck.”

You giggle, the sound like music to his ears.

As you finish bandaging his wounds, the atmosphere between you has shifted. There’s a new understanding, a connection that wasn’t there before. Maybe things won’t be easy, and maybe Bucky will always be a bit of a grump, but you’re determined to be his sunshine, to bring light into his dark world.

And maybe, just maybe, he’ll let you.

Bucky's confession had changed everything. In the days following that night in the infirmary, his demeanor towards you began to shift.

The once icy wall he maintained seemed to melt slightly, and while he wasn't exactly warm, there was a newfound softness in his eyes when he looked at you.

Still, the past months of his coldness and hostility left a lingering tension between you, a wound that needed healing.

You knew that a kiss and a confession would not be enough to cure his long-standing hostility toward you; you knew you both needed to have a conversation.

One evening, you stayed late at the compound, finishing up some paperwork in the infirmary. The sun had long set, casting the room in a dim, serene glow from the soft lights overhead.

You were engrossed in your work when you heard a knock at the door. Looking up, you saw Bucky standing there, looking hesitant and unsure. Your heart skipped a beat, a mixture of anticipation and wariness flooding you.

“Hey,” he said quietly, stepping inside.

“Hey there you,” you replied softly, setting your pen down. “What’s up?”

He took a deep breath, his expression serious. “I need to talk to you.”

You nodded, gesturing for him to sit in the white chair, that currently had a cute Dumbo plush placed on it. Bucky grabbed the plush before sitting down and placed it in his lap, fidgeting with the ears, his large frame taking up more space than usual, his presence filling the room.

There was a moment of silence, and you could see he was struggling to find the right words.

“I’ve been an asshole,” he finally said, his voice low and earnest. “I’ve treated you terribly, and you didn’t deserve any of it.”

You watched him, your heart aching at the sincerity in his eyes. “Bucky-”

He held up a hand, stopping you. “Please, let me finish, I've been wanting to say this for a while because you deserve an apology. You’ve been nothing but kind and patient with me, and I repaid you with coldness and cruelty. I pushed you away because...because I was scared. Scared of what I was feeling, scared of getting close to someone again. I know my behavior is not to be excused but I'm being honest doll." he pleaded.

You swallowed hard, the raw honesty in his words touching something deep inside you. “I get it, Bucky. But it still hurt.”

“I know,” he said, his voice pained.

He stepped towards you, gently taking your gentle hands into his calloused ones and continuing to speak while tracing patterns on your skin with his thumb, the gesture comforting him. “And I’m so sorry for that. I wish I could take it all back, but I can’t. What I can do is promise to make it up to you. I want to show you that you won’t regret giving me a chance.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, a tentative hope blooming within you. “How do you plan to do that?”

He looked at you with such intensity that it took your breath away. “By being there for you, by treating you the way you deserve to be treated. I want to make you happy, sweetness. I want to be the man you see in me, the man you’ve been so kind and patient with.”

You felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes, overwhelmed by the sincerity and determination in his voice. “Oh Buck…”

“I crave you, doll,” he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “I crave your touch, your smile, your laughter. Every part of you. I’ve tried to fight it, but I can’t anymore. I need you.”

The intensity of his confession left you breathless. You placed a hand on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm.

“I need to know you mean it,” you whispered, searching his eyes for any sign of doubt.

He covered your hand with his, his grip firm and reassuring. “I mean it, Y/N. I’ll spend every day of my life proving it to you if I have to.”

Before you could respond, he leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both desperate and tender. More intense than the last one. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer as if he needed to feel every inch of you against him. The kiss deepened, filled with all the pent-up emotions and longing that had been building between you.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing heavily. You looked up at him, your heart pounding in your chest. “You really want this? You really want me?”

“More than anything,” he said without hesitation. “You have no idea how much.”

A slow smile spread across your face, a mixture of relief and joy washing over you. “Well then, show me, Barnes.”

He grinned, a rare and genuine smile that made your heart soar. “With pleasure.”

He kissed you again, this time with even more passion and intensity. His hands roamed your back, pulling you impossibly closer, any distance in between being excruciating. You responded in kind, your fingers tangling in his hair as you poured all your emotions into the kiss. It was a promise, a beginning, and for the first time in a long while, you felt truly hopeful.

As the kiss ended, Bucky rested his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours. “You won’t regret this, doll. I promise.”

“I believe you,” you whispered, feeling the truth of his words in your heart.

The moment of intimacy is shattered by the sound of cheering and whooping from the doorway. Startled, you both turn to see Tony, Natasha, Steve, and Sam standing there, grinning like a bunch of mischievous teenagers who had just witnessed their friends’ first kiss.

“Finally!” Tony exclaims, clapping his hands together. “I thought I was going to have to script it out for you two. Turns out Terminator actually has the balls to confess." he snickered, seizing a snack packet of dried blueberries and munching on them.

Natasha smirks, crossing her arms over her chest. “Took you long enough, Barnes. We were beginning to think you’d never make a move.” the redhead pauses and winks at you.

Steve steps forward, a proud smile on his face. “About time, punk. I knew you had it in you.”

Sam laughs, shaking his head. “And here I was thinking the Winter Soldier was all cold and no heart. Looks like our sunshine melted the ice.”

You feel your face heat up, a mix of embarrassment and amusement washing over you. Bucky, on the other hand, rolls his eyes, his cheeks slightly flushed. “Do you guys mind?”

Tony steps forward, still grinning and munching on his snack. “Not at all. We’ve been waiting for this moment for months. I mean, the tension was practically killing us.”

Natasha nods in agreement. “It was like watching a bad rom-com where the leads are too stubborn to admit they like each other.”

Bucky sighs, shaking his head but there’s a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips. “Well, enjoy the show. It’s over now.”

Steve chuckles. “I don’t think it’s over. I think it’s just getting started.”

You laugh, feeling lighter than you have in weeks. “Alright, alright. You’ve had your fun. Now, can we have a moment?”

Tony raises his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. We’ll leave you lovebirds alone. But don’t think we’re not going to talk about this later.”

He turns to you and points at the packet in his hand, "Also thanks for this sweets," and struts out.

As the group begins to disperse, Natasha gives you a wink. “We’re happy for you, babe. You deserve it.”

Steve pats Bucky on the shoulder. “Good job, Buck.”

Once they’re gone, you turn back to Bucky, who’s shaking his head, a look of exasperated affection on his face. “I swear, they’re worse than a bunch of kids.”

You smile, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I think it’s sweet. They care about us.”

He sighs, pulling you closer. “Yeah, well, as long as I get you to myself now.”

You lean in, brushing your lips against his. “You do. And I’m not going anywhere.”

As you kiss him again, the echoes of your friends’ teasing fade away, leaving just the two of you in the warm, comforting glow of newfound love.

With that, you knew that this was the start of something new, something beautiful. It wouldn’t be easy, but together, you felt ready to face whatever came your way. And with Bucky by your side, you knew you could handle anything.

Note: gifs, pictures, and header DOES NOT belong to me. CREDITS TO THE RIGHTFUL OWNERS!! Feedback and reblog is appreciated.<3

[walkingstackofbooks]

Consider: Julian being pregnant with Yoshi and going to Federation parenting classes with Miles and Keiko. And encountering a list of all the rights and freedoms every child is supposed to be entitled to. Some of which... don't sound like his childhood. (Cw child abuse)

I've got SO MANY more ideas for this it may turn into a series who knows??? But I want to share it now so people can maybe like it? Because I have feeeelings.

--

"So these are just, uh, suggestions, right? Parents don't have to do all of them?" Julian asked, instantly regretting it. If Miles' dirty look was anything to go by, clearly that had been the wrong thing to say.

"Julian," he gritted out, "you're my best mate and you're carrying my child so I'm going to give you a chance to explain. What the hell do you mean by that?"

Julian really wasn't sure that he could. Some of the statements on the poster had surprised him, that was all, but he didn't really want to get into the reasons why.

"Don't, uh-- Don't worry. It's not important," he tried to deflect.

"It bloody well is important, if you're just planning to ignore what you're learning here."

"Miles--" Keiko broke in, placing a hand on her husband's knee.

"I didn't mean it like that!" Julian exclaimed, cradling his stomach protectively. "I was just saying that, um... I guess that they're not all as important as each other, are they? Lack of privacy, for example -- that's not exactly abusive, is it, like some of the others?"

"That's a common misconception, but no, Doctor Bashir," answered Mx Rakoto. "Any parent showing a consistent failure to meet any one of these standards would be enough to investigate them for abuse."

"Oh."

"What do you mean, "oh"?" Miles asked, with an irritation that compelled Julian to shrug and look away.

"I guess I just didn't realise it was taken that seriously," he replied, feeling kind of silly and small as he said it. "I know we learnt about them in school, but back then it was more of a thing for teachers than parents, wasn't it?"

There was a pause, before Keiko said tentatively, "...These have always been for parents, Julian."

"Mrs O'Brien is correct," Mx Rakoto added. "Your parents would have completed a very similar course to this -- some things have changed of course, there's always more progress that can be done, but the fundamental rights and freedoms of children haven't changed, and nor has the law."

"No, but..." Julian's brain didn't seem to be working properly; was he missing something?

"You're saying these are things I should have had at home and at school?"

"Yes?"

"And my parents should have known about them?"

"I would find it hard to believe that they didn't. Parents are required to access learning about this every few years."

"Oh." Julian's voice had gone very quiet at the point. "I think I-- I need a minute..." he said shakily, eyes glued to the poster in front of him, reading and rereading the information as he tried to figure out what he'd got wrong.

Right to privacy.

Right to choose their own name.

Right to appropriate support and accommodations of a disability.

Freedom from unnecessary medical interventions.

Freedom from torture.

Right to make mistakes.

"Julian?" asked Keiko softly, startling him out of his thoughts. "Are you alright?"

Slowly, he shook his head. "I didn't know," he whispered. "I mean, it's not like I thought they were great parents, you know, but I didn't think... Well, most people complain about their parents, don't they? I didn't think mine were abnormally bad. But there are so many things--" His voice quavered, almost breaking. "And you say they could have been investigated for just breaking one?"

"What... what kind of things?" asked Miles hesitantly. "Only if you want to tell us, of course."

Julian's eyes flicked around the room, but Mx. Rakoto seemed to have left the room.

"They've gone," confirmed Keiko, seeming to catch onto what he was thinking. "I can go too, if you'd prefer..."

"No -- it's alright," said Julian. "It's just... a lot to take in."

His eyes returned to the poster. Right to encouragement. Freedom from humiliation and constant criticism. Right to self-expression. Right to relax and play. Right to mistakes.

"It must be hard, right," he started, looking to them both anxiously, "to keep these all in your head? There's a lot of them, it must be normal to not remember all of them all the time?"

Miles and Keiko exchanged glances, a second-long conversation that Julian was not privy to.

"All parents make mistakes," said Keiko kindly. "It's when these things start getting ignored often that there's a problem."

"And some of them you barely have to think about anyway," added Miles. "You know, "right to shelter", "right to food", "right to clothes" -- it's not difficult stuff. You don't have kids if you don't want to look after them properly."

"Then why did my parents find it so difficult?" The words burst out of Juliann before he could stop them. "What was so wrong with me that meant they didn't do all this?"

"No, oh no, Julian," said Keiko, as Miles reached out to pull him in for a hug. "Don't think like that. It wasn't you--"

Julian wasn't really listening: his question had finally given him the puzzle piece he had been missing -- he'd realised what hadn't been adding up.

"No... no, it's fine," he said, feeling a little floaty now he'd got his thoughts all in order. "No, it was me. I was a difficult kid. That's..." He shook himself, feeling his cheeks get hot as he wondered what the O'Briens must be thinking. "I'm sorry, this session was supposed to be about your child, not about me."

"Our child," corrected Miles gruffly. "And this is important, Julian. I don't give a damn if you were "difficult", your parents don't get to just ignore your rights."

"You don't understand," said Julian desperately, hoping he'd be able to make them see even without mentioning his enhancements. He'd made a real mountain out of a molehill here, he didn't know why he hadn't managed to connect the dots quicker before this all had spiralled out of control. "I tried to piss my parents off. I'd stay out too late and go drinking illegally and date guys way too old for me just because I knew it would annoy them. And I'd always talk back and argue with my dad, and find ways to be smarter than him, and--"

"And none of that was enough to lose your rights, Julian," said Keiko gently. "That's not how it works."

Julian was shaking; he didn't want to listen to them. He'd figured it out -- it was his fault his parents hadn't done everything they were supposed to, because if it wasn't his fault, it was their fault, and that meant... well, that they were abnormally bad parents, and that... that...

"Hey," said Miles, more softly than Julian had ever heard him, peeling Julian's hands away from where he'd been covering his ears. "Let's say you're right -- just for a moment," he added in response to Keiko's hissed "Miles?". "Maybe we don't understand everything that went on. Why don't you tell us which of these you weren't getting from your parents, yeah? Explain it to us a bit more?"

Flashing him a weak smile, Julian nodded. he should have known he could always count on Miles.

"Okay, yeah, um -- so I guess, uh, "right to choose your own name"?" he said, feeling slightly uncomfortable as he watched Keiko pull the poster up on her PADD and circle it, but choosing not to comment. "It wasn't like, transphobic or anything though," he defended. "They'd just always called me 'Jules' since I was little, you know? So it's not really..." He trailed off, shrugging.

"Okay..." said Miles, and Julian tried to ignore the dubious look his friend shot at Keiko. "Anything else?"

"Um -- I always had to, uh, leave my door open? Or if I closed it, they wouldn't knock before coming in... That's not that weird though, right? One of my Academy friends thought it was, but--"

"Did you feel like your parents respected your privacy?" asked Keiko, and Julian looked at her for a few seconds, before shaking his head.

"But they were my parents," he said. "That was just how they looked out for me. They were supposed to look out for me."

"And you were supposed to have a right to privacy," replied Keiko, making another circle on her PADD. Fuck, this wasn't going the way Julian had thought it would. Hurriedly, he looked for a different one to try to explain better.

"Constant criticism," he said, distantly noticing the strangled tone to his voice. "That's hardly surprising, right? I mean, if you get things wrong all the time, you're going to be criticised, that's just how it works."

Neither Keiko nor Miles looked convinced; clearly he wasn't trying hard enough, describing clearly enough why it had been alright his parents hadn't been perfect. He was getting this all wrong.

The right to make mistakes.

For some reason, those had been the words his eyes hadn't been able to leave alone. Every time he went past them, his heart caught on them, as though the words were a rusty nail left half-buried in his skin.

It wasn't a fair comparison, really. He had been different to the other children -- better, smarter -- so of course he hadn't been allowed to make the same mistakes they did. Of course his parents' expectations had been high; they'd known what he was.

But all the same, it sounded nice, that imaginary childhood where all mistakes were okay, not just the ones he'd carefully measured out to avoid detection.

He didn't realise he was crying until he felt a rough thumb wiping a tear off his cheek.

"Oh, Julian," Miles was saying. "It's okay, you can let it out now. We're here for you. I'm so sorry. I wish I'd known."

[raemimuse]

Manifest easily

The most common method which is easy, but you're making it hard?

So First of all I want you'll to know that EVERYTHING, basically ANYTHING you want in reality you have to get that in your mind first! Your mind is the factory it makes your desires and turn that into reality, so let's make your desires!

We all call it a type of visualization method, but it's a bit different, it's called;

REPROGRAMMING TECHNIQUE:

1.) I need you to go to a place where no one disturbs you okay.

2.) Sit in the most comfortable manner you want, you don't really need that crossed legs or laying on your back.

Position yourself in a way your body won't feel any difficulty.

3.) Picture the thing, the desire, what you want to manifest, you don't have it yet you are picturing it.

4.) Now, it's your, feel how you would feel on the moment you knew your desires are REALITY now! Example; you want a promotion, picture your Boss coming to your cabin and telling you the good news. Feel how you would feel.

5.) Now time travel to 1 hour later after you have manifested your desire. Same example, you got promoted an hour ago, now feel the feeling that your family members, and friends, you know, are calling and texting you , congratulating you. Picture what will happen after an hour later.

6.) Now Picture yourself 24 hours later after your desires are REALITY already. Same example again, now 34 hours later, the next day you're going to office but not at the same cabin! You're promoted, and now your role in the office has changed too. What would feel 24 hours later ?

NOTE; Whenever you visualise, feel. See what you want to see. Hear what you want to hear. Feel what you want to feel.

7.) Open your eyes slowly. Tada ✨ you just got it. You manifest already! It's as simple that.

Feeling is the key!

(ALSO, if you feel trouble focusing or imagining, write, write all those steps in present form.)

The job you want, exist. The relationship you want to be in, exist. The person you want to be with, exist. The money you want, it's here everywhere. The success you want to achieve, it's here so many ppl got that. The everything you want is here, it exist, and it's your the moment you visualise getting that!!!

Done ✅ what's more nothing at all, you have that already and just feeeel it!

[matt-is-me]

Thinking about how hot it is to be hypnotized in random moments.

You're in a call with your friends, playing video games as you usually do, when suddenly one of them 𝘴𝘯𝘢𝘱𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴. Your mind reacts before you can even process what happened, suffusing any thought, supressing any memory you might have had. After all, you trust that your friends can take care of a 𝘵𝘰𝘺 like you, right?

You're in bed, when you suddenly get a text. It's a tumblr account you've been talking to for a while. You click on the image that they sent and you're immediately flooded with 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 and 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴. They fill up the screen, just as they fill your empty mind. You stare for a while, the flow of time becoming completely foreign to you, as the words of your tist mold your brain into whatever they desire. You're 𝘱𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘺 in their hands, and you love it.

You are outside with your partner, taking one of your regular walks in the park. And as you walk, your hand gently tied to your lover, they 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳 something to you. You cant really hear what they said, but all you know now is that you're 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘰𝘰𝘰𝘰𝘰 𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘺 , and there are soo many people that you can entertain here! A crowd forms as you begin to undress, ready to fuck yourself silly in front of so many pretty people. You're just a 𝘴𝘭𝘶𝘵, and I bet that feeeels sooo good.

The time, the place, the people, that doesn't matter. All that matters is your obedience. And your pretty little mind is willing to obey at any moment possible. No matter if you're inside or outside, in bed or working, your mind just follows. You're a 𝘵𝘰𝘺, your mind is 𝘱𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘺, nothing but an empty 𝘴𝘭𝘶𝘵 for hypnotic words.

Doesn't that sound sooo hot?~

[stoopidslxt]

Why and how hypnosis has formed such an intricate, tantalizing web, and why I am ever it's willing captive in my own mind.

So, buckle up! This will probably go long, but I figured it was high time I document my own history with hypnosis, tumblr, this community, and every other little kink that presses the corners of my mind into a nice, flat, glassy surface that any and all thought slide over and away from with effortless precision. I suppose it really all started during my first stint on tumblr, over a decade ago now. I was a plucky eighteen year old who, admittedly, really enjoyed engaging with trolls and jerks online. I was a really smart young girl, and I knew how to carry myself and when it was all said and done, I'd feel like I'd accomplished something, felt like I'd won, been witty, it did fill me with a sense of pride. it was these same people, and a lady friend of mine we'll call b that helped me learn and understand the pleasure of having that pride stripped away and replaced with wave after wave of unending, uncontrollable pleasure. with obedience, servitutde, with edghing, with so many different sides of the kjnk. I fojnd dreamychat and met many wonderful people. the first was h, who really knew how to drive me crazy. at the time I was a switch who was having lots of fun dueling and having my turn on top. after awhile, h and I lost contact and I visited dreamy less n less. after a hiatus, talking with b again some, and always confiding andmissing my v good friend in kink here we'll call L, I fell back into the scene again hard and met two different people. D was the first, demanding, controlling, arragont, bully. my kryptonite. he pushed me to do so mhny tihngs tha made .y brain:) go blank. and. h and then I met V, who had a much different approach that got sososo deep in my head:) v was so kind and playful, and ay ther end of the day, made me do sooo many amazing things. these experiences have made me the happy little bimbo fuckpuppy cockslut dickforbrains moocow💖💖💖 hhnnnn like, ujnm, now I moo that theres no way I could be a switch 4real💖 noww I edgee nnrubbb ngooon 💖💖 and just be trancyy nhapyyy n dummmmm for him💖 gggigles ghhnnn n ifeeel sosoosogooood sparkles nn pops💖💖💖 and beein a gooodgirlll 💖💖💖 rubbbin and likke makin myself worseee. it all happennd bc i didn t want to he responsbile nomore an beinn dumbbbs bettrr thsn beimg smartt💖💖 feeeels gooood and and not making choises 💖💖💖 hatee havjng real girl thougbts 💖💖 imm a toyh💖 noo thinkks💖💖 jusssinkssa💖💖 lovee bein seeeen bh you allll💖💖 degraded and vulnrble💖💖 butsafe n protected💖💖alwayssafe💖💖 yessedhedgedgedgdd💖💖rubbbb💖💖 dennyy repeattobeyyyy💖💖💖 mandi doll obeyy💖💖 mmmasst💖💖obeyy💖💖💖edgdgggg abbhghhh moooooooo💖💖💖💖💖rruuffarrfarfarff💖💖💖💖💖whinbbe wwhimmnper💖💖💖droooolll💖💖💖hheeaaatttt💖💖💖💖hhhbnnnnnn💖💖💖fffuc

[a-driftamongopenstars]

Guardian/Crow: a kiss on top of the Tower

hello anon and thank you so much for the prompt :) a little later, but coming right up, a kiss before Crow departs into the Traveler! let's catch some feeeels also on ao3

There is something strange in the air. That sense of anticipation, things set in motion, but it tastes bitter and it plants seeds of fear in the Guardian's heart.

Not something that happens often. Has been happening more since they started to care for Crow.

It feels too much like a goodbye. They sit side by side at the highest point of the Tower, were the small red lights are blinking at the passing ships, where the city looks more like a net of gold with its lights and highways. Here, no one can hear them but the rising moon in the darkening sky.

Crow looks down thoughtfully at the scurry of life below, then turns his eyes to the Guardian.

"We will see each other again," he says. His voice is full of certainty and reassurance. The Guardian smiles a little.

Of course they will. They have to. And that is a promise.

"Just, don't keep me waiting on the other side, yeah? I doubt there's anyone to play cards with. Except with Glint, of course."

The Guardian laughs and bumps Crow's shoulder with theirs. A feeling of camaraderie strengthens between them, but also something else. A string from one heart to the other.

They move quickly, tackling Crow to the ground and kissing him. The Hunter laughs, but does not push them away. His mouth is pliant and his eyes close with a happy flutter. He kisses sweetly, and just as sweetly touches the Guardian's face with warm palms.

When they pull away from each other, only for an inch and many minutes later, Crow holds their face in the cup of his hands. His gaze is firm.

"It's not a goodbye, hear that, Guardian? I'll be waiting."

They slide their hand gently over his fingers, over his wrist. Their thumb feels for his pulse, caressing the steadily thumping spot. Life, so full of life, blood and Light together.

They lean in again, kissing Crow a little while longer. And just for a moment, no danger exists, no Witness, no Traveler, no Last City. Just them, together, under the rising moonlight, lips whispering a promise to find each other again.

[littlestuffstohide]

When Vasquez said she had a question, Phoenix already knew it wasn't going to be good.

I had completely forgotten the motive. It's refreshing to replay AA after so many years. I feeeel so old.

Oh Milessssss. You do remember Mia and Phoenix were ready to give up three times the day before. ahahaha.

Constipated Phoenix has entered the picture. Phoenix is literally just as bad at it as Miles.

Winning, losing, yup. The opposite choices of words to say.

Phoenix... You got there after seeing him like this. You are so weak to Miles. He is also so weak to you. And cueee the music. Cue us cheering Phoenix on.

Will Powers introduction and he goes... stumbling and glaring. Eloquent Miles is gone. Of course he is! He's meeting his idol. So adorable Miles.

Wow. I feel offended for Miles.

He is so calllm again. Us being Maya... "meeting again?""

All I could think was... cue the angst Miles. Why I did not answer any letter? Why I never wanted to remember? Remembering Phoenix was remembering the most painful thing.

Mr. Unnecessary feelings which he will carry 'til the end of time.

He can't not see him. They live in the same city and would possible cross paths. We all know what he's thinking.

Phoenix? What's your angle? Accidently screen shot Maya like this. This would be Maya's face after years of seeing them both pin so muuuch!

[nanathott]

https://www.tumblr.com/nanathott/763894857120038912/i-need-gojo-to-apologize-to-ijichi-for-the

NUH UHHHHHHHH (said respectfully)

As an anxious person who was constantly stressed in high school due to a hard academic workload + many sports, I FEEEEL for Ijichi. Gojo’s bullying pissed me off. Why would anyone make life more difficult by being insensitive to the feelings of others?

Gojo is beautiful, and def a good guy for what he wanted to do in Jujutsu Society, but I def had a problem with how he treated Ijichi

he was trying to be helpful in the only way he knew how, ijichi would’ve died if he became a sorcerer so fast so gojo’s whole “ur shit, if u don’t become an assistant ill hit u” was his way of looking out for him because he cares about him, especially what happened with geto and haibara, he didn’t wanna lose anyone else close to him

i think ijichi knows that too, their personalities are just wildly different so ijichi would’ve approached someone differently but that’s just gojo’s style shrugs, ESP as a kid

gojo is just a very blunt person, like how he told yuuji he was gonna be executed straight up or told him he didn’t how powers like everyone else that made yuuji deflate and complain, stuff like that

nanami gets that too, he understands that gojo does good and is very strong but the methods in which he goes about doing it are “annoying”, they both have the same moral principles but their principle executions are different and that’s why nanami doesn’t rly “respect” gojo

i’m not saying the way he does things is right or wrong, that can be argued, but i think in the end he did create a positive impact and his executions had the desired effect (killing the higher ups, taking in megumi to protect him and tsumiki, keeping yuuji and yuta alive, threatening ijichi, threatening gakuganji, etc)

[missamyrisa2]

How would you tease a boy with a flaming fetish for fur stoles and feather dusters?

It's funny the notification cut off at flaming and I was thinking ooohh I'm gonna have to get creative with building the most feathery teasyyyy fire for this tickleeee~

Which is kindaaaa not far offfff because you're just gonna be ~inflamed~ when I tackle you into my lovelyyyy elegant wardrobe lined with gorgeoussss furs and flufffy attire, complete with mannequins showing off sooo many sultry ensembles layered with all that exquisite material. Short sexyyy flirty numbers, floor length shawls, and such a spectrum of colors ~ I knowww it's gonna get you sooo blushyyy wigglyyyyy sillyyyy seeing it all, not to mention my little toy chest bursting with dusters and teasers and fluffy brushes and loooong poofy feathers. Awwwww there's a boyyyy getting alll blushyyy for his fluffyyy ticklemama ~

But what's thisssss? You come into my closet with those, those unseemly clothes? No no no~ that just won't doooo nopeeee uh uhhhh I'm taking thiss shirrtttt yess now don't fight meee. I'll tickle youuu ~ I'll tickle you on your ribsssss and your bellyyyyy and oooh look at that bridal shawl, babessss just look at how cuuute it is all draped on that mannequin, so white and elegant. Uhhhhh huhhh I knowww you love ittttt ~ and guesss whattt? These pants are mine now toooo ~ nopeeee you cooperate with me or I'll just tickle you moreeeee ~ riight on your bellyyyy with my dusterr uhhh huhhh ~ tickle tickle tickleeee~ and allll under that rack of lovelyyyyy coatssss ~ mmhmm such beautiful patterns, such amazing textures. It's like they're caressing you from afar huh? Yes yesss I know what they doo tooo youuuu ~ that's whyyyy you're losing those strained undies tooo~ mmhmm. Was it my ticklesss? Or maybe that amaaaazing royal blue stole hanging right there. I know you wanna touch that one yesssss you dooo. Go onnnn ~ be naughtyyyy~

Ahh ah ahhh naughty boyyyy you went right for it huhhh you were just gonna be so naughty with my lovely stole and now you're getting tickled. Yeahhh! Now you're getting tickled on those underarms and your neeeeck and your niiiipplesss ~ silly boyyy. You really thought I'd just let ya? Noooo you're getting something else ~special~ you seeee you get to watch me nowww as I dress up for youuuu~ I'm gonna strip myself firstttt a bittttt ~ ahhh not everyone gets such a showww but here goes my flower belt ~ yes, kind of a notorious accessory but she'll be back, I promise. And ahh I'm losing my top now silly boyyyy ~ just my little purpleyyyy bralette. Ooopeee there go my shortsssss. Hey don't stare at my undies you naughty boyyy I'm gonna tickle those feeeet for that. Yesss dusty dustyyyy on your feeettyy feeet. I call this rainbow duster patricia, no particular reason. She just looks like a Patty, y'know? And she's lucky, getting to dust such elegant toesss and soles. Why, you have such prettttyyy feeetsss for a silly boyyyy~

Ah yes, where were we before you had to be all naughty and bullied again. This amazing blue stole yesssss I'm going to wear thisss oneeee. But firsttt my lacy black nightieeee and because I'm just sillyyy I am going to accessorize it back with my flower belt. This blueee will be sooo cute over my new outfittttt~ don't you think? Maybe I should adjust it mmm? Like thissss? Ahh so beautiful. And oooh, I have these fur cuff bracelets tooo ~ they match darling, they match. And nowww it's time for a lovelyyyy huggggg ~ because you're a sweeet wanttttty neeedy boyyy who looooovesss these textures and I'm gonna hold you to me and let you feeeel it allll while I tickle you to bitsssss~ and don't you worry about that princely part. Noooo don't worry at allll because I have Patricia hereee to dusttty dustttt that royal rodddd and coax out allll your giggly moanssss. Coochie coooo babydolllll ~ squirm it outtttt. Feel these fursss all over youuuu as I tickle that bellyyyy. You can writhe and struggle all you like it's just gonna give you more sensation. That's itttt ~ be naughtyyyy ~ you know you wannaaaa. And you know I'm gonna punish youuuu ~ tickle ticklesssss on your lengthhh up and down while I let my fuzzy cuffs drift alll over your chest and buttonssss~ And my stole is just right here for youuuuu and while you enjoy thatttt I'm gonna grab this other one, the matching pair ~ and drape it over your bodyy mmhmmm. Yess lay back now, let's get you pinned and tickled and furred up~

Don't try to fight it nowwwww ~ I'm gonna drag this lovelyyy material over your ticklish bodyyyy til you can't speak, til you can't see straight, and til you're nothing but my neeeedy mewling cute tickleboyyyy~<3

[panevanbuckley]

not my video but why is this giving me so many feeeels