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duckybarnes1917 · 1 year

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Summary: Bucky hates you. Until he doesn't.

Warnings: enemies to lovers, mommy kink, sub Bucky, dom reader, oral sex (m and f), teasing, begging not cum, orgasm denial, p in v, unprotected sex, leather cuffs, color system

AN: My Valentine's Day fic this year also serves as my entry for @the-slumberparty week one I Spy challenge! I used the diamond necklace and leather cuffs. Also, this fic fills the enemies to lovers space (G3) on my @allcapsbingo bingo card!

Bucky had always hated you. Ever since you walked into the compound, showing off and flaunting all your assets. You were a good fighter; you didn't need to shove it in everyone's faces all the time. Every time he walked past the gym and saw you sitting on Sam's chest, pinning him down again, an ugly emotion coursed through Bucky. Your triumphant smile made him want to rip you off of Sam and show you a taste of your own medicine. But he always kept walking, doing his best to ignore you.

He didn't think it was possible to hate you even more. But once again, you proved him wrong in that department. You were late. Very late. Bucky paced around the loft he had been living in undercover. He was dressed in a tailored black suit, his hair slicked back, perfectly in place. The mission called for him to pose as an art collector–with deep pockets and dark habits. He had been alone here for a month, slowly gaining the trust of the key players, and tonight was the night he was finally going to get the critical piece of information he needed. But there had been a hiccup. His mark, Zakaria Tate, had invited him to dinner. Not just any dinner, a Valentine's dinner. Date required. Bucky had begged Sam to send Yelena; her no-nonsense attitude would have made this super easy, but he declined. Bucky would have preferred that Sam himself joined him tonight over you. But Sam simply laughed and told him to suck it up. You were the only choice.

Bucky rechecked his watch just as you burst through his front door, again proving him wrong. Because he hated you even more in the crimson dress that hung to you like it was your skin.

"Don’t say it, Barnes. I know.” You pushed past him, heading toward the kitchen and pouring yourself a glass of wine.

“You’re late,” Bucky said through grit teeth. He stalked over to you and ripped the glass from your hand.

You rolled your eyes, taking a long pull from the wine bottle instead. “It’s not my fault. This ridiculous lingerie took way too much work to get into.”

Bucky tensed, his eyes immediately moving from your face to scan your body. “Wh–why would you–”

You shrugged, picking up the gift box you had walked in with. “It helps sell the part. If we were really dating. And you were really taking me out for Valentine’s. And you were really giving me that gift over there.” You paused to point at the jewelry box Bucky had waiting by the front door. “Then I would really fuck you stupid at the end of the night.”

You smiled at him as you walked past, stroking his arm lightly with your hand.

Bucky swallowed thickly, turning to watch the sway of your ass. He hated how easily you made him feel like this. Like he would drop to his knees and do whatever you asked of him just for a taste.

To Bucky’s surprise, the dinner was going well. Zakaria loved you. That wasn’t surprising; everyone loved you except for him. But the character he was playing did–he needed to act the part. He swallowed his stubbornness and inched closer to you, wrapping his arm around your waist. You smiled at him before placing a kiss on his cheek.

“Oh, there he is, my loving boyfriend. Thought you forgot you’re supposed to want to touch me.”

“Sorry, I’m not that good of an actor,” Bucky muttered.

You ignored him and turned back to the conversation at the table. Despite his snarky comeback, Bucky couldn’t help the shiver that went through him in response to your touch. Your voice low in his ear was something he could get used to.

Fuck.

No.

But his body was already reacting, squeezing your hip to pull you closer. You nuzzled into his side and placed your hand on his big thigh.

Bucky took a deep inhale; he could do this. He knew what you were doing and would not let you ruffle him.

But as soon as he relaxed, your thumb began slowly stroking his thigh. It was innocent–if he didn’t know you better. He gave you a sharp warning, but you wouldn’t look at him. Such a simple movement should not have had him turning to breathing exercises to keep himself from begging you to touch him more.

As if you could read his thoughts, your hand glided down to his knee and back, and again and again. It was becoming more challenging for Bucky to focus on what anyone at the table was saying and even harder to keep his eyes from stealing glances down your dress. He couldn’t help it, he had the perfect view, and he wanted to know what color your lingerie was–in the dark lighting, it looked red, and his cock swelled.

Shit.

“Baby–” you giggled when Bucky finally looked up from your tits. “Zakaria wants to see what you got me.”

“Oh–of course.” Bucky shook the lust off and handed you the jewelry box. “Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart.”

God, his voice sounded like he had swallowed knives.

Get it together.

Genuine surprise flashed across your face as you picked up the glittering diamond necklace. Everyone at the table gasped in awe. That was the reaction Bucky had hoped for.

“Go on, put it on her.” Zakaria urged.

Bucky blushed as you turned your back to him and swept your hair out of the way. His hand was shaking as he drew the necklace around your neck; his fingers left a trail of goosebumps on your skin. Once he got it clasped, you turned to him and stuck your chest out. “How does it look?”

Bucky’s mouth watered as he looked at the diamonds glittering against your skin. The necklace dipped into your cleavage, and Bucky could see your nipples pebbled through the thin fabric of your dress. He hated how hard you made his cock. Hated that you would never do anything about it. Hated that he was always destined to imagine you fucking him while he stroked his cock alone.

Zakaria laughed, “I think our friend may be ready to leave our company.”

Fuck, was he being that transparent?

“Not before dessert,” you said, smiling mischievously.

Bucky wasn’t prepared for your lips to collide with his. You did it so fast; he wasn’t sure what had happened. By the time his brain caught up and he registered the soft warmth of your lips, you were already pulling back to whisper in his ear.

“If I liked you, Barnes–” you sighed longingly, the heat of your breath tickling his ear.

Bucky stared at you wide-eyed and begged silently for you to finish your thought. He needed it–for later.

The entire time you ate your dessert, Bucky could only think about what you had left unsaid. What would you do if you liked him? What did you want to do to him?

You threw back the last of your drink and suddenly flopped into Bucky’s lap–pretending to be the love-drunk girlfriend you were playing. You giggled, and Bucky helped you sit up; you used his leverage to scoot yourself into his lap. Bucky froze as your eyes snapped to his when your ass felt his sizeable bulge.

“Oh, you fucking wish,” you whispered against his lips, that glint that Bucky hated so much in your eyes.

Your smile looked predatory, and as hard as Bucky tried to find the hate inside himself that would allow him to push you off or at least come back with a witty response, all he could do was swallow down a whimper.

Your smile grew, and you pushed your chest against him while your fingers ran through his hair. “Is this–” you circled your hips to emphasize what you were referencing, “why you hate me so much? You just wanna fuck me?”

“Stop,” Bucky begged quietly; his grip on your waist tightened, but you kept squirming.

“Be a good boy, and I’ll go easy on you the rest of the night.”

Bucky couldn’t help himself, his hips pushed up against you, and he cursed under his breath. Your eyes darkened, and Bucky knew he had indeed given himself away now. Usually, a comment like that would have gotten you a death glare and probably an ugly name thrown your way. But it had all been a mask, all of it. Because he wanted this. Too much.

Suddenly you stood up. “We’re leaving. Thank you so much, Zakaria. It was lovely.”

You hauled Bucky to his feet, and the protest Zakaria had started to give died on her tongue when she saw the obvious reason for his quick exit.

“Have fun, you two; don’t be strangers.”

Bucky didn’t even care that he had got nothing out of this dinner other than a raging hard-on. He couldn’t think past how your hips moved as you marched out of the restaurant. You didn’t stop once you were outside, and Bucky worried that he had completely fucked this up and made a jackass of himself.

“Wait! Where are you going?!” Bucky jogged to catch up to you.

“Back to the loft. Can’t talk here.”

Bucky kept his mouth shut and followed you. Maybe you had noticed something he didn’t–since you were actually working the mission instead of acting like a horny teenager. As he followed you, he replayed the night, searching for something he missed, but all he could remember was you. He didn’t even realize you were back in the loft until you slammed the door shut and pushed him up against it.

“What the fuck, Barnes?”

“Wh–what?” Bucky tried not to rut his hips against you but failed when your grip on his wrists tightened.

“This whole time? I thought you hated me–”

“I do,” Bucky groaned. “Hate that I can’t have you.”

Your brows furrowed. “So you just decided to be a dick?”

“Had to,” Bucky said breathlessly. “If I didn’t pretend that you make me so unbearably horny, I would have begged you to fuck me every goddamn mission.”

Bucky’s face fell into a pout when you let him go and took a few steps back. You were gonna leave. Probably laugh in his face first and then leave him like this, hard and desperate.

“So do it. Beg.” You stuck out your hip and crossed your arms to emphasize your breasts.

Bucky stood stunned for a moment, still not sure if you were being serious.

You sighed, irritated, and started to move toward the exit. Bucky immediately dropped to his knees. He wasn’t going to let you go that easily.

“Please.”

Bucky licked his lips nervously, not really sure what else to say. Your brow rose, unimpressed and expecting more.

“I’m sorry, please; I want you so bad.”

“What do you want from me, baby boy?”

Bucky finally looked up at you, and the view made him groan. This is how he wanted to be all the time, on his knees, looking up at you. He needed to answer you before you got mad, but he didn't know what to ask for first; he wanted everything.

“Want you to fuck me,” Bucky hated how needy he sounded, but he couldn’t help it.

You smiled and stepped forward, tipping his head back. “I’ll think about it.”

Panic was evident on Bucky’s face, he knew it, but all you did was laugh before lifting your leg and placing it over his shoulder.

“See if you can earn it.”

Oh god.

With a trembling hand, Bucky slid your short dress up your thighs slowly, mentally preparing himself for the sight of your coveted cunt. Nothing could have prepared him, and as soon as he saw your crotchless red panties, he whimpered and gripped your thigh harder.

“Can I use my mouth?” He asked, eyes wide with hope.

“Of course, you can, baby.”

“Thank you, mommy,” Bucky stuck his head under your dress before he could see the shock and pleasure on your face.

The sting in his scalp spurred him on as your grip tightened and you pressed him closer to your heat. His tongue moved urgently, and every time you made a pleasured noise, he moaned against your clit.

“I’m close, baby, don’t stop,” your breathy sigh spurred Bucky to slide his hands up your thighs and grip your hips. He pulled you even closer, sliding his warm tongue into you over and over.

“Fuck yes, baby boy, fuck me, fuck me.” Your hips moved frantically, using his nose to stimulate your clit.

Bucky could have cried; this was fucking bliss. He quickly unbuttoned his pants and pulled the zipper down, desperate to stroke himself in time with his tongue.

“I didn’t say you could touch your cock,” you said breathlessly, and Bucky whimpered. He was desperate for some kind of relief, but he was afraid to disobey you. Instead, he moved his hand out of his pants and gripped your ass hard, fucking you even deeper with his tongue. He didn’t stop until you came so hard he had to hold you up so you wouldn’t fall.

Bucky tried to remain patient while you lowered your leg and patted his head condescendingly. He was still afraid you would leave at any moment.

“That was good, baby.”

Bucky blushed, looking up at you hopefully. His hands were clenched at his sides to keep from touching himself.

“Go to the bedroom and take all your clothes off.”

Bucky scrambled to his feet, ignoring your chuckle as he raced to the bedroom, peeling his clothes off.

Thankfully, you didn’t make him wait long; you walked into the room and only paused momentarily to check him out.

“Help me out of this dress, baby.”

Bucky slid the zipper of your dress down quickly, almost breaking it. The silk puddled at your feet, and Bucky growled, low and deep, at the sight of you before him. You moved away too soon for his liking, directing him to lie on the bed.

“You never opened my gift.”

Bucky held his breath as you crawled over him. You sat on his chest and opened the gift for him. Bucky’s eyes went wide as he looked at the black leather cuffs inside.

“Originally, I bought them as a joke. But…”

“Yes. Please.” Bucky held his wrists out to you excitedly.

“You know the colors?”

When Bucky nodded, you kissed his wrists before placing the cuffs on him.

“This is gonna be fun,” you smiled wickedly at him before sitting back so you could unhook your bra. You removed it slowly, enjoying Bucky’s gaze and how he worried his lip every time you almost removed it completely.

“Mommy, please!” He finally whined, and you threw the bra to the floor.

Bucky reached his cuffed hands out, but you moved out of his reach. “Should have thought about that before you said yes, baby boy.”

You grabbed his joined wrists and lifted them over his head, putting your breasts in reach of his hungry mouth.

It was hard, but Bucky resisted, thrusting his hips in the air as he groaned. “Please, can I?”

God, his lips practically brushed against your nipple as he spoke.

“Can you what?” You teased.

Bucky squirmed, frustrated, and unable to think with all his blood now in his swollen, ignored cock. “Tits. Want–” Bucky groaned as you lowered yourself even more. “Wanna suck your tits,” he rushed out in one breath.

“Go ahead, baby.”

Bucky’s tongue flicked over your nipple quickly before he sucked it into his mouth. His hips pistoned into the air as he sucked. He moved to the next one, giving it the same treatment.

“Is there something else you need from me, baby?”

Bucky whined, your breast still in his mouth and his eyes watery.

You sat up and ran your finger over his pouting lips. “What else do you need, baby? Use your words.”

“Need–” Bucky’s breath caught as he looked at you, naked except for the diamond necklace around your neck and nuzzled between your breasts. “Need you to touch me.”

“Come on, you can do better than that.”

Bucky frowned, a confused look on his face.

“I know you’ve got filthy, dirty thoughts in that big cyborg brain of yours. Come on.”

“Oh god, I–” Bucky closed his eyes, trying to find some confidence. “I need you to touch my cock. Put it in your tight pussy and come all over me. Need you to make me come, mommy, wanna come inside you, fuck.”

“That’s better, baby.” You kissed his chest, slowly dragging your lips down until you reached his throbbing cock.

You didn’t show it, but you were just as wound up as he was. It would be so satisfying to slide him inside you now. Fuck him fast and frantic until you both came way too quickly. Maybe next time. For now, you needed to make him work for it. And maybe pay him back for being such a dick to you. You let your saliva dribble over the crown of his cock and stroked him lightly to spread it. He was already so wound up that simple action had him thrusting off the bed.

You couldn’t resist pushing him further, sucking on his tip while your hand moved faster, and you rolled his balls gently.

“Oh fuck! Yes! God, don’t stop!”

You didn’t, only removing your mouth long enough to ask him if he wanted to come. A resounding yes made you chuckle. Poor boy.

“Do you wanna come, or do you wanna stick your fat cock in my little pussy?”

You didn’t give him time to think as your mouth wrapped around his tip again, and his mind went blank.

“Bucky, I asked you a question.”

“Both?” He tried but knew it was pointless.

“Choose, or I’ll choose for you.”

Bucky hesitated, your mouth felt so fucking good, and he had imagined coming down your throat so many times. He was already so close it would only take a few more strokes, and he’d be there.

He groaned, sagging against the bed. “Want your pussy.”

But you didn’t stop; you took him deeper in your mouth and sucked hard.

“Want your pussy!” Bucky gasped as suddenly he was in your throat, and you were swallowing around him.

Was this a test? He didn’t think he was going to pass. His balls were heavy with need, and your tongue was coaxing him to the brink faster and faster.

“Please, mommy! I’m gonna come! Please stop,” Bucky gasped, hands clenched tightly as he fought the oncoming orgasm. “Oh,” he drew the word out long and needy. “Please, I’ll come; stop, please.” He was so close now he could almost taste the pleasure.

That was when you stopped, pulling your mouth off of him slowly and giving his crown one more good lick.

“You did so good, baby boy.” You straddled him, running your wet pussy over his dick before pushing his tip inside. “Let’s see how long you last inside me.”

Bucky’s mind went blank as you slid down his length. You looked so perfect, perched on his cock with nothing but diamonds on your sexy body. He couldn’t breathe.

Your ass met his thick thighs, and Bucky groaned. “So–good,” he sounded drunk.

“Don’t come.”

That was the only warning he got before your hands found his thighs, and you began fucking yourself on his throbbing cock.

“You’re so big, baby. I’m gonna come so hard.” You threw your head back, working your hips even faster.

Bucky tasted blood in his mouth; he was biting his tongue, trying his best to keep from filling you up.

Your hand drifted down your body, and Bucky had to close his eyes when you started rubbing your clit.

“Mommy, I–I’m gonna come, please.”

“You’re not allowed.”

“But–” Bucky groaned as you moved your hands to his chest and fucked him faster.

“This is what you asked for, baby boy. You wanted to be balls deep inside me. Wanted me to fuck you.”

Bucky couldn’t argue. So he squeezed his eyes shut and tried his best to hold back. Even as you came, moaning his name and squeezing his cock like a vice, he didn’t come.

A tear ran down his cheek as you came down from your high.

“Look at me, pretty boy.” You leaned forward and wiped the tear from his cheek. “You were so good for me.”

Bucky sniffled as your lips brushed against his. “I’m sorry I was a jerk.”

“Oh, Bucky,” you cupped his cheek and looked him in the eye. “I always liked you too. Only you. I’m sorry I was a pain in the ass.”

You kissed him then, slow and deep. Bucky felt bad, but he broke out of the cuffs and gently moved you to lay on your back. He held your face as he kissed you back, stroking your tongue with his and holding you close. His cock throbbed angrily inside you, but you hadn’t given him permission to move.

Your hand moved from his hair to his ass, grabbing it tightly. “Fuck me, Bucky.”

Bucky’s hips punched forward. “I–I can’t. I’ll come.”

He looked so disappointed.

“I believe in you. Fuck me.” You spread your legs wide for him, and he dropped his forehead to rest on yours.

“I hate you.” But you both knew now that he didn’t mean it.

He kept you close while he moved his hips slowly, building up speed and keeping his thrusts as deep as he could.

“Don’t stop,” you groaned when he started to slow down.

“Gonna come,” he mumbled against your lips.

“Haven’t earned it,” you huffed back. “Fuck me. Hard.”

Gathering the little self-control Bucky had left, he lifted himself onto his knees and grabbed your hips, pistoning into you as hard as he could manage.

He shouldn’t have, but his hand reached out to squeeze one of your bouncing breasts.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck! Please, gotta stop.”

You ignored him, arching your back and pushing your chest out. Bucky growled, quickly descending on your breasts with his mouth. Sucking one while he squeezed the other. His hips moved frantically, losing his rhythm.

“Please, mommy, can I stop?” His voice was muffled against your chest.

Your response was to wrap your legs around his waist tightly. He groaned, trying to think about something other than how wet and warm you were around him. You didn’t make it easy.

“Fuck my little pussy, yeah, fuck, fuck, baby, mommy’s coming.”

Your walls spasmed around him, and Bucky’s hot tears fell onto your chest as he held on for dear life, silently begging to stop before he spilled his seed inside you.

“Come, baby,” you said through deep breaths as your high faded.

Bucky barely managed to ask where before he was pounding into you. When you said, “inside, come in my pussy.” Bucky’s hands moved to your ass, gripping it tight as he fucked into your warm, tight cunt frantically as if he was afraid you’d change your mind.

“Thank you, thank you, mommy, pussy feels so good,” he whined, grinding deeper as his orgasm overtook him. He froze for a moment, gasping and groaning against your neck as he came harder than he ever had before. But soon, he was slowly fucking his come deeper into you, whispering praises against the column of your throat.

Your hand ran through his hair, and he nuzzled deeper.

“If I had known the serum kept you hard after orgasm, I would have let you come sooner.”

“Fuck you,” Bucky groaned, punching his hips forward to make you gasp.

“You liked it,” you giggled.

“Fucking loved it, never wanna leave your pussy.”

“Keep fucking me like that and calling me your mommy, and I’ll let you fuck me as much as you want.”

“Happy fucking Valentine’s Day to me,” Bucky whispered incredulously before moving you up the bed to start round two.

#navy and roo sleepover #allcapsbingo2023 #bucky barnes smut #subby!bucky #enemies to lovers #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x poc!reader #the sleepover week one #bucky barnes #tfatws #sebastian stan #bucky smut

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translations2 · 5 months

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무제시 3과 4, 자카리아 모하메드

Untitled Poems III & IV

- Zakaria Mohammed

- Translated by Lena Tuffaha

III.

People are asses. I hang bells from their necks so they can sing to me while I recline on a rock.

People are fools. I’ll hang them up in the wardrobe like winter clothes.

May’s barley is about to ripen. Each stalk has lined up its seeds in orderly fashion so they can stand at the gate of heaven.

I can line up words without meaning.

I can create meaning from nothingness.

I tie a horse near the barley and meaning overflows.

Meaning is orderliness.

Meaning is coincidence.

Meaning is a beast of burden hauling watermelons.

If only I could line things up like a stalk of barley does.

Barley takes its own life in May, and wheat opens its mute mouth in June.

My time is the end of August.

At the end of August, my trigger snaps.

Oh, if only I could live in a glass of water; my roots white, my hair green, and the sun my only god.

I have one song I keep repeating. I have one great lie I’ve attached to the ceiling with tape, so that the flies of truth will stick to it.

My head is huge like a balloon. My hand is a destitute star, the knife is a painful simplicity I do not possess, and when I arrive at meaning, it is lost to me.

—from Alanda

IV.

He was crying, so I took his hand to steady him and to wipe away his tears.

I told him as sorrow choked me: I promise you that justice

will prevail in the end, and that peace will come soon.

I was lying to him, of course. I know that justice won’t prevail

and peace won’t come soon, but I had to stop his tears.

I had this false notion that says, if we can, by some sleight of hand, stop

the river of tears, everything would proceed in a reasonable manner.

Then, things would be accepted as they are. Cruelty and justice would graze

together in the field, god would be satan’s brother, and the victim would be

his killer’s beloved.

But there is no way to stop the tears. They constantly pour out like a flood

and ruin the lying ceremony of peace.

And for this, for tears’ bitter obstinance, let the eye be consecrated as the truest saint

on the face of the earth.

It is not poetry’s job to wipe away tears.

Poetry should dig a trench where they can overflow and drown the universe.

—from A Date for the Crow

무제시 3과 4

- 자카리아 모하메드

- 레나 투파하 아랍어에서 영어로 옮김

III.

사람들은 멍청하다. 그들 목에 종을 달아 내가 바위에 기대어 쉬는 동안 나를 위한 노래를 부르도록 한다.

사람들은 바보다. 그들을 겨울옷 걸듯 옷장에 걸 것이다.

오월의 보리가 다 익어간다. 보리는 천국의 문 앞에 서기 위해 보릿대마다 씨앗을 가지런히 세워두었다.

나는 의미 없는 말들을 가지런히 세울 수 있다.

나는 무로부터 의미를 창조할 수 있다.

말을 보리 옆에 묶으면 의미가 흘러넘친다.

의미는 정연함.

의미는 우연.

의미는 수박을 나르는 수레를 끄는 짐승.

보릿대처럼 가지런히 할 수만 있었으면.

보리는 오월이면 스스로 목숨을 끊고, 밀은 유월에 침묵하던 입을 연다.

나의 시절은 팔월말.

팔월말이 되면 나의 도화선이 끊어진다.

오, 물잔 속에 살 수만 있다면; 하얀 뿌리와 초록 머리를 갖고, 태양만을 나의 신으로 섬기��.

부르고 또 부르는 노래가 있다. 진실의 파리들이 붙도록 천장에 걸어놓은 대단한 거짓말이 있다.

나의 머리는 풍선처럼 거대하다. 나의 손은 궁핍한 별, 칼은 내가 갖지 못한 고통스러운 소박함, 그리고 의미에 도달할 때, 나는 의미를 잃는다.

— <알란다> 중

IV.

그가 울고 있어, 나는 그의 손을 들어 그를 진정시키고 그의 눈물을 닦아 내었다.

슬픔이 나의 목을 조르는데 말했다: 약속할게

마침내 정의가 이길 것이고, 곧 평화가 올거야.

물론, 나는 거짓말을 하고 있었다. 정의가 이기지 못할 것이라는 것도

곧 평화가 오지 않는다는 것도 알지만, 그의 눈물을 멈춰야했다.

나는 잘못 생각하고 있었던 것이다, 만약 우리가 교묘한 손짓으로, 강물 같은 눈물을

멈출 수 있다면, 모든 일이 합리적으로 흘러갈 것이라고.

그럼 모든 것이 있는 그대로 받아들여질 것이라고. 잔인함과 정의가 밭에서

함께 풀을 뜯을 것이고, 신은 사탄의 형제가 될 것이고, 피해자는

자기 살인자의 연인일 것이라고.

허나 눈물을 멈출 방법이 없다. 홍수처럼 흐르고 또 흘러

거짓말 뿐인 평화의식을 망친다.

그것을 보아, 눈물의 이 쓰디쓴 고집을보아, 눈을 지구상 가장 진실된

성자로 축성하라.

눈물을 닦아내는 건 시가 할 일이 아니다.

시가 해야할 일은 눈물이 흘러넘쳐 온 우주를 잠기게 할 도랑을 파내는 일이다.

— <까마귀를 위한 야자열매> 중

#from the river to the sea palestine will be free #free palestine #ceasefire now #end genocide #end israeli occupation #zakaria mohammed #lena tuffaha

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uniquecreations · 4 years

Text

“Clueless”

I don’t know why I agreed to go out to a house party on a damn Thursday night knowing we had school in the morning. I guess that’s the price you pay when you lose a bet playing 2k against a known cheater. I knew Dylan cheated because there was no way in hell someone could come back from a 20-point deficit with 5 minutes left in the game unless they cheated. It was my fault, I looked away for a few seconds to check my text and when I looked back at the game, he was catching up to me.

“That was such a bitch move Dylan, you couldn’t just take an ass whooping like a man huh?” I said turning the game off.

“Liam bro, you couldn’t beat me if I gave you a full half worth of scores so shut that shit up and go pick out your clothes……... Loser.” He said smirking.

“Fuck you.” I said walking back to my room.

I was glad my parents were out of town on business and my grandma kept my two siblings because there would have been no way in hell I would have been able to talk them into letting me stay out past curfew on a weekday. I heard my shower in the hall turn on letting me know that Dylan was about to get in there. I would have to use my parent’s bathroom to shower. 20 mins later I had showered, lotioned up my body, put on my underwear and jeans. I was walking back to my room when I saw that my bathroom door was open. When I got to the door, I saw Dylan standing in the mirror taking selfies, I noticed that we had the same Express underwear on. I stepped inside the bathroom with him and we both took a selfie with our shirts off.

Dylan (Left) & Liam (Right)

“This was a solo pic.” He said shoving me a little.

“My house, my bathroom, my mirror, so I do what I want.”

“I know you not still salty about losing that game?”

“Nope now hurry up because I’m not trying to be out all night, we both have school in the morning, or did you forget about that?”

“Nope that’s why I brought my school uniform with me.”

“Oh, so you are staying over here tonight?”

“Duh nigga”

“Whatever.” I said walking out the bathroom and back to my room to finish getting dressed.

We made it to the party, and it was more people than I expected it to be here for a weekday party. Once we made it inside, Dylan disappeared probably to go dance with some girl or find out where they had the liquor at. I walked around trying to find a spot to post up in when I literally bumped into Zakaria, this guy from school. He and I text often also he is the only guy I have experienced anything sexual with. It wasn’t anything to extreme just a few jackoff sessions afterschool in the boy’s bathroom.

“Oh shit, I would’ve never expected to see you here.” Zakaria said looking at me.

“Yeah, I lost a bet to Dylan cheating ass so I’m here.” I said trying to avoid any eye contact with him.

“Oh, he is here?” He asked with a hint of malice in his voice or maybe it was jealousy I don’t know.

“I don’t understand what’s yall beef with each other, yall was close at one time and yall are on the same football team.” I said shaking my head.

“Because that nigga thinks he is entitled since he made starter.” From the way he shrugged his shoulders after that comment led me to believe that there was more to it than just that bullshit excuse.

“Whatever, I’m going to get me bottle water and some fresh air, I will catch you later.” I said about to turn to walk off but he stopped me, he leaned in closer so that only I could hear him.

“You wanna get together later on?” I looked at him after he said but before I could respond to him, Dylan came out of nowhere.

“What’s going on over here?” He said giving Zakaria a death stare.

“Just chatting with the homie, why you so worried bum ass nigga?” After Zakaria asked that, I noticed Dylan fist ball up and I knew I had to separate this two before a fight broke out in these folk’s house.

“Ayy chill out with all that.” I said pulling Dylan back a bit, then I looked over at Zakaria who had a smirk on his face. “I’ma holla at you at school Zak.” I said before walking away with Dylan.

Once we were far away from Zakaria, I looked at Dylan and I could tell he was still fuming from that lil altercation. After that, I knew it was time to go because if we stayed here any longer, those two would be probably go at it again. I still don’t get why Dylan got so mad at him in that short amount of time, but I was damn sure going to get to the bottom of it before this get to far out of hand. I didn’t say anything to Dylan, I just started walking towards my car, so he already knew I was over this shit. He walked to the car with an even more pissed off look on his face, but I didn’t give one damn.

“I don’t know why I gotta leave, that bitch ass dude started with me……… I didn’t get a buzz yet.” He said scoffing in the passenger seat.

“No, you were the one came over there with the shits, we were just talking, but since we on that what’s the reason behind this beef yall got going on?” I said pulling off and heading towards my house.

“Cause he a fake ass nigga.” He said looking out the window.

“You see the funny thing about that is your lying and so is he because when I asked him what yall beef was he told me something different. He said it had to do with football and you starting this season.”

“Oh, well it had my fault that nigga trash……. I don’t wanna talk about his bitch ass no more so drop it.” He said pulling out his phone.

“I just don’t get it Dylan, yall was cool at one point and now yall enemies, shit don’t make sense at all.”

“Whatever Liam I don’t wanna talk about this because its pointless and all it’s going to do is piss me off so leave it alone.” I decided not to press the issue anymore for right now, but this was far from done with.

Once we made it back to my house, I went inside and upstairs to my room. I pulled off my clothes and put on some night shorts. I laid across my bed, turned the tv on and began looking for something to watch when I got a text on my phone. It was from Zak, he asked could he come over or could I meet him somewhere for one of our sessions. I didn’t bother responding to him because there was no way in hell, I was going to let him come over here while Dylan was here and second, we weren’t close like that for him to be coming to my house. The other problem was me going somewhere with him would bring up a lot of questions from Dylan ~ not that I had anything to explain to him~ that I wasn’t in the mood for. So, I finally text him back telling him another time. After a little back and forth with Zak, I sat my phone down and began watching tv when I heard music coming from the guest room down the hall. I paid it no mind because usually when he was mad, he would listen to music to calm himself down. The music that he was playing was old 90’s r&b, the kind of music our folks would listen to at cookouts. It was after 11pm by this point and if he wanted to stay up then that was on him but he would have to turn that music down so I could get some sleep.

I walked down to where the room was and walked in, he was laying in the bed shirtless with a pillow covering his head. “You good?” I asked from the door.

“Why don’t ask your best friend Zakaria if he is good or not?” He said not moving the pillow from his head.

“What kinda fucking question is that? I was checking on yo punk ass but you trippin right now, anyway I’m going to sleep so turn that music down or put some headphones on.” I said walking back to my room. I walked in my room and slammed my door close, great now I was going to bed mad. About 20 minutes later I heard my room door opening. “Don’t come fucking with me Dylan or I’m putting yo bitch ass out my house.”

“Don’t get beat up but I gotta question for you……... you wanna know what my problem is with your lil friend?” I sat up in the bed.

“I really don’t give a damn at this point just get out my room.” I said getting irritated. He took a deep breath before he started talking again.

“He tried to come on to me in the locker last year and I turned him down. I thought we were good until he started doing slick underhanded shit while on the field like purposely not block for me or cutting into my plays to get the ball.” Hearing him say that instantly made me think back to those games and how their friendship had changed during that time.

“Why you aint never tell me? We been boys since elementary school, if that nigga tried you like that then I woulda beat his ass.”

“Beat his ass or jackoff with him some more to keep him from trying his bullshit?” He said looking me in the eyes. It seemed my whole body froze, and I couldn’t find words to speak. “Yeah I know about that.”

“Ummm I don’t know what you talking about.” I said looking at the blank tv screen.

“So, we lying to each other now, maybe you should be careful who you do shit with and you wouldn’t have to worry about your business getting exposed.”

“Who else knows?” I asked.

“From my understanding it’s just me because your lil boyfriend thought by telling me that it would make me want him. But my other question to you is why him?”

“I don’t know it kinda just happened one day and been going on ever since ………. I can’t believe that hoe ass nigga ran his mouth like a bitch.” I said shaking my head but what I wasn’t expecting was what came out his mouth next.

“Yeah that may be true but that’s not answering my question…… why him when I’ve been here all along?” I looked at him and once again I was speechless. “I’ve always held out hope that one day you would notice me, but it never came and when he told me that I was pissed.”

“Why you never said nothing to me about it if you were feeling that way towards me?”

“Because I thought maybe it was stretching because I’ve seen you pull more hoes than a lil bit, so I kept that to myself.” He said looking at the floor, for some odd reason I felt my body being drawn to him.

“You should have told me D.” I said walking towards him. “What the old saying your mom use……. Close mouths don’t get fed.” I said lifting his head up, the look in his eyes was something I never saw before from him. We stood for what seemed like forever just looking at each other but it was a few seconds before he leaned in and place his lips on mine. The kiss began to get even more passionate as the seconds rolled by. Somehow, we ended up on my bed with me on top of him still kissing him, our hands roamed around each other bodies in perfect sync with one another.

“We should stop before things go to far.” He said rubbing my face.

“Yeah you right……… Dylan I’m glad you finally said something to me and I’m sorry that I didn’t notice this awhile ago.” I said kissing him again.

“Its ok, we have the rest of high school and college to make up for lost time.” He kissed me again and got out the bed.

“Where you going?” I asked looking at him confused.

“To the guest room nigga duh.”

“Sleep in here with me.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.” He walked back to the bed and got in behind me. I don’t know what the future has in store for us but I what I do know is that first in the morning I’m beating Zakaria ass. Once that’s done then I’m going to focus on making up for lost time and stop being so clueless with Dylan.

(Pictures used does not reflect the actual Characters just as visuals for the story)

#short story #bxb #gay #dl #clueless #new #love #black #high school #uniquecreations #2020

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creepingsharia · 5 years

Text

60 Muslim Refugee-Jihadis Caught in the U.S. Profiled in New Book

“The 60 refujihadis include a Muslim translator for the U.S. Army, cab drivers, gangsters, money transfer agents, janitors, and college students.”

Here are three facts that the most hysterical voices attacking the Trump administration’s proposal to radically reduce or freeze refugee admissions don’t want you to know:

1) They make billions of dollars off the federal refugee resettlement racket;

2) They are protected by the Open Borders Inc. media, which routinely whitewashes the gobsmacking financial self-interest of the “Let Them All In” leeches; and

3) They are never held accountable when untold numbers of the world’s most wretchedly violent and aggrieved refugees come here to sabotage the American Dream.

While left-wing religious groups, tax-exempt non-profits tied or allied to George Soros, and the amnesty-shilling Catholic Church scream “No hate, no fear, everyone is welcome here!” at the top of their lungs, American neighborhoods are being overrun by dangerous foreign criminals and jihad plotters. David Miliband, president and CEO of International Rescue Committee, attacked the White House plan to slash refugee numbers from an Obama-era high of 100,000 to less than the current historic low of 30,000 as “inhumane.” Is it because cutting the numbers would cut in to Miliband’s first-class travel and business lunch tabs? Malkin Truth-O-Meter: mostly likely true!

What Miliband neglects to mention in his diatribe against President Trump that his organization is one of 9 behemoth government contractors that works with the hostile United Nations and encrusted State Department social justice warriors to import thousands of new refugees every year with little input from the communities in which they are dumped. Miliband earns nearly a million-dollar salary and by one estimate, IRC has raked in nearly $900 million in refugee resettlement profits over the last decade. When you cut through the Statue of Liberty smokescreen of the open borders “charities,” the math is clear:

Reduced refugees means reduced cash flow.

Zero refugees means zero cash flow.

Why should taxpayers continue to see their hard-earned money siphoned away to feed the Trump Resistance Machine and Democrat Party’s Permanent Ruling Majority Project?

There are even more compelling reasons to throttle the refugee flow. According to the logic-twisting, ICE-doxxing cheerleaders at the New York Times, refugee reductions are the real threat to our nation because if we don’t keep importing hordes of Muslim translators from Iraq or Afghanistan, it would “undermine” our national security.

This is just plain ass-backwards.

The Trump-bashers and border-phobes equate any and all criticism of the refugee program as racist, xenophobic hatred. But it’s not all sweetness and light. They’re not all “yearning to breathe free.” Some of them just want free stuff. Some of them want to kill us. Many of them have absolutely no interest in assimilating themselves into our customs, measures, and laws. And many of them have outright contempt for Western civilization. They’re not here to strengthen our nation with their “diversity.” They’re here to destroy it. That’s fact, not “hate.”

In Open Borders Inc, I have profiled 60 of the planet’s most maleficent refujihadis nabbed over the past dozen years. Here are their names (you can learn their full stories in Appendix G of the book) . And remember: these are only the ones we’ve caught.

Nuradin Abdi

Dritan Duka

Shain Duka

Eljvir Duka

Mohanad Shareef Hammad

Waad Ramadan Alwan

Abdow Munye Abdow

Farah Mohamed Beledi

Cabdulaahi Ahmed Faarax

Shirwa Ahmed

Mahamud Said Omar

Abdiweli Yassin Isse

Kamal Hassan

Salah Osman Ahmed

Adarus Abdulle Ali

Ahmed Ali Omar

Khalid Mohamud Abshir

Zakaria Maruf

Mohamed Abdullahi Hassan

Mustafa Ali Salat

Tamerlan Tsarnaev

Dzhokhar Tsarnaev

Issa Doreh

Basaaly Saeed Moalin

Mohamed Mohamed Mohamud

Ahmed Nasiri Taalil Mohamud

Ramiz Hodzic

Sedina Hodzic

Mediha Medy Salkicevic

Armin Harcevic

Jasminka Ramic

Nihad Rosic

Abdullah Ramo Pazara

Fazliddin Kurbanov

Liban Haji Mohamed

Mohamed Abdullahi Hassan

Abdinassir Mohamud Ibrahim

Mohamud Ali Yusuf

Nima Yusuf

Zacharia Yusuf Abdurahman

Adnan Farah

Hanad Mustafe Musse

Guled Ali Omar

Abdirahman Yasin Daud

Mohamed Abdihamid Farah

Abdirizak Warsame

Hamza Ahmed

Abdullahi Yusuf

Ahmed Ali Omar

Amina Farah Ali

Hawo Mohamed Hassan

Abdul Razak Ali Artan

Dahir Ahmed Adan

Omar Abdulsattar Ameen

Omar Faraj Saeed Al Hardan

Aws Mohammed Younis Al-Jayab

Abdullatif Ali Aldosary

Bilal Abood

Jamshid Muhtorov

Mahad Abdiaziz Adbiraham

More than half of these foreign menaces came from Somalia.

The 60 refujihadis include a Muslim translator for the U.S. Army, cab drivers, gangsters, money transfer agents, janitors, and college students. They include convicted weapons felons, confessed aiders and abettors of terrorism, stabbing spree vigilantes, and bombers all sworn to wage war against infidels in the name of Allah – and fraudulently posing undercover as victims of political and religious persecution. Here’s just a small taste of what our blind “welcoming” culture has wrought:

Abdul Razak Ali Artan was a Somali refugee who left his homeland with his family in 2007 for Pakistan and landed in Dallas before resettling in Ohio. In 2014, he became a legal permanent resident. At Ohio State University, where he was a student, Artan raged against America and invoked radical Muslim cleric and spiritual adviser to jihadists Anwar al-Awlaki. In 2016, he plowed his car into a group of students and then broke out a knife and stabbed innocent bystanders. Eleven were injured before police shot Artan dead.

Somali refugee Dahir Ahmed Adan went on a stabbing spree at a St. Cloud, Minnesota, mall in 2016, injuring ten people before an off-duty police officer shot him dead. Police told local media Adan quizzed at least one person on whether the individual was Muslim and made references to Allah while carrying out the stabbings. A local chapter leader of the unindicted terror co-conspirators of CAIR-Hamas disseminated an obligatory condemnation of Adan’s jihad before wailing about “the potential backlash to this community.”

Mahad Abdiaziz Adbiraham pleaded guilty to stabbing two people at the Mall of America in Minnesota in January 2018. Initially, the crime was reported as an “interrupted theft” in which two men had spotted Adbiraham attempting to steal merchandise at a Macy’s. But Adbiraham made his intent clear in the courtroom when he entered his plea. His attack was a “call for jihad by the Chief of Believer, Abu-bakr Al-baghdadi, may Allah protect him, and by the Mujahiden of the Islamic State,” he wrote in a statement. “I understand that the two men I stabbed know and have explained the reason for my attack, and I am here reaffirming that it was indeed an act of Jihad in the way of Allah.” Motive: known. Adbiraham entered the U.S. with “derivative status,” meaning he came here with a relative legally (most likely a refugee or green card recipient).

Mohanad Shareef Hammadi was an Iraqi refugee who landed in Las Vegas before resettling in Bowling Green, Kentucky, in 2009. He was not being hunted or oppressed by anyone. He was, in fact, a bomb-maker insurgent for Al Qaeda in Iraq who had targeted American soldiers on the battlefield and sought to amass high-powered weapons and ship them from his adopted home back to the front lines to assist his terrorist brethren. In 2013, he was sentenced to life in prison for providing material support to terrorists and “conspiring to transfer, possess, and export Stinger missiles,” not to mention making a false statement in an immigration application.

In 2015, a ring of Bosnian Muslim refugees and naturalized Bosnian-American citizens were indicted on criminal charges for sending money and supplies to terrorists in Syria and Iraq. Ramiz and Sedina Hodzic, refugees who had resettled in St. Louis, were charged in a criminal conspiracy involving fellow Bosnian immigrants Mediha Medy Salkicevic, Armin Harcevic, Jasminka Ramic, and Nihad Rosic. They raised money and purchased U.S. military uniforms, combat boots, tactical gear, and rifle scopes, which they sent to Abdullah Ramo Pazara–a Bosnian Muslim refugee who had lived in St. Louis and became a U.S. citizen just days before traveling to Syria in 2013 to fight for Al Qaeda and the Islamic State. Pazara rose up the ranks of ISIS; he was reportedly killed on the Turkey-Syria border. Ramiz Hodzic, Harcevic, Salkicevic, and Ramic pleaded guilty to their charges in 2019. In May 2019, Sedina Hodzic pleaded guilty to providing material support to terrorism and is awaiting sentencing.

Open Borders Inc. propagandists and profiteers will do what they always do when confronted with criminal nightmares that don’t fit the Emma Lazarus fantasy narrative: Whitewash them. The vast majority of refugees are law-abiding, they’ll sputter. Only xenophobes dwell on the negative impacts, they’ll seethe. But an untold number of refugees are not just committing ordinary civilian crimes. They are Islamic oppressors masquerading as the oppressed. Never forget: Ramzi Yousef faked an asylum claim to plot the 1993 World Trade Center bombing. Never forget: Gazi Ibrahim Abu Mezer, a Palestinian bomb-builder who entered the U.S. illegally through Canada, claimed political asylum based on phony persecution by Israelis. Never forget: Palestinian jihadist Mir Aimal Kansi, convicted in 1997 of capital murder for the January 1993 shooting spree outside CIA headquarters in McLean, Va., claimed bogus political asylum based on his ethnic minority status in Pakistan. The 9/11 jihad attacks, which every feckless politician will commemorate during next week’s 18th anniversary events with “Never Again” platitudes, should have taught us that all it takes is a teeny-tiny minority of foreign menaces to wreak massive havoc on our safety and civil order.

How many more horrifying reasons do we need to shut off the refujihadi spigot, stop underwriting the U.N.’s sovereignty-eroding agenda, and get our house in order?

Michelle Malkin is the author of Open Borders Inc.: Who’s Funding America’s Destruction?, out September 10 from Regnery. Visit OpenBordersInc.com for more information.

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#Immigration #Jihad #Islam #Muslim #News #Politics #Legal

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