#omar buttons

[eyecreatestories]

YA Adult Supernatural Dark Fantasy | The Deadly Envisages

In the bustling city of Chicago, a young boy named Omar lives on the streets as an orphan. Despite his difficult circumstances, he possesses a supernatural gift that sets him apart from others. However, this gift comes at a price when he discovers a dark entity lurking amongst the living, collecting souls as a twisted hobby.

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[kruemel8]

Omar Rudberg for OMR beauty.

[omar-bb]

Red Light ❤️

Via calciumpil on twt

[the-gershomite]

Animaniacs: presents Tales From the Tower #26 -June 1997-

"Tickle-Me Evil"

written by Sean Carolan & Jennifer Moore

art by Leonardo Batic & Omar Aranda

inked by Scott McRae, Horacio Ottolini & Khato

letters by Lorina Mapa

colors by Demetrius Bassoukos

[omegaremix]

Omega Radio for August 16; 2014; #58.

Paperwhite “Magic”

X Priest X “Isn’t It So”

Das Racist “Shorty Said” (Gordon Voidwell RMX)

Twin Shadow “Castles In The Snow” (Com Truise RMX)

Rustie f. Danny Brown “Attak”

Tycho “Spectre”

Samantha Vacation “Samantha’s Vacation”

Legowelt “Teen Romance”

Mary Velo “Manhattan Project” (Silent Servant RMX)

Svengalisghost “High Heel Sleaze”

Ron Morelli “Slowly Losing Sight”

Alexander Von Borsig “Napalm”

Black Marble “MSQ No-Extra”

Fad Gadget “Ricky’s Hand” (“King Of The Flies”)

Linear Movement “Due To You”

Ashrae Fax “Catchexpanddisrupt”

Caustic Window “101 Rainbows Ambient Mix”

Fuck Buttons “Okay, Let’s Talk About Magic”

Omar Souleyman “Kell Il Banat Inkhatban (All The Girls Are Engaged)”

Muslimgauze “Hamas Cinema Gaza Strip”

Cut Hands “Madwoman”

Siamgda “Dawn Frequency”

Sun Ra “Nuclear War”

Deluxe broadcast; all electronics.

[snekdood]

lmao???

this quiz sorts through characters from like dozens of fandoms and finds the one you’re most like. I’m not even a little bit surprised by my result

[siribaes]

beggin’

armando aretas x (oc) [ black!fem! ]

a decade ago armando spent an unforgettable summer with an unforgettable girl, who taught him everything. his sex teacher. now decade later he’s face to face with the teacher once again, determined to show that her lessons didn’t go to waste.

contents: some dom & sub dynamics. voice fixation. size kink. praise kink. pet names. fingering. brief! p in v. cūnnilingus. p!ssydrunk armando bc duh. slight impact play (no face slapping!) they’re in love but in denial about it, minor drug mention, etc. mdni!

suggested tunes📻: elevator by flo rida & timbaland, strip tease by danity kane, get naked (i got a plan) by britney spears, radio by girlicious, virtual diva by don omar, push by enrique igelsias

author’s note: this is slight au, so think of this being the early stages of the revenge plot prior to isabel’s escape. lol the chokehold that the long lost love/lovers reuniting has lol >> i tried to make this as filthy as a possible :) not proofread or edited!

club exquisite was in full swing. bodies packed the building, from wall to wall, people were dancing, drinking, or doing both simultaneously. multicolored strobe lights swirled and danced, combinations of blues, greens and reds illuminated the dance floor, complimenting the dj’s killer set of miami’s finest.

it was lively and fun.

armando, however, was having anything but.

tucked away in a corner booth of the v.i.p., armando sat bored out of his mind, sipping on way too sweet champagne. he should’ve been doing something more useful with his time. instead, he was stuck playing babysitter for the son of a future drug connect, all this per his mother’s instructions.

. . .this marriage between his son and your cousin, alejandra will benefit us. our partnership will bring us one step closer, it’s all apart of the grand design mijo. . .

was sipping champagne that tasted like super sugary, ginger ale a part of the grand design? apparently. watching the groom-to-be snort a line of coke off of girl’s ass was a part of the grand design too. armando took another sip from the flute before sitting it down on table, watching as the girl giggled and kissed sebastian on the mouth. armando never cared for sebastian, they were just so different from one another. sebastian was a pretty boy who liked pretty things, he never worked a day in his life and instead of doing his own thing, he basked in the glory of his father’s notoriously ruthless reputation. armando was self-made, haunted by his father’s death and forged by the fire of mother’s imprisonment. armando blazed his own path and was destined for greater things.

yet, he was here in miami, clubbing with sebastian’s and his pack of idiot friends.

a heavy hand shook him out of his thoughts.

“primo,” sebastian slurred. he swiped at his runny nose, before running hand down his half buttoned shirt. “c’mon, we’re going to the real v.i.p.,”

slightly relieved, armando followed sebastian as the bachelor party were lead by security out of the main dance floor. as they weaved between the crowd, armando trailed slightly behind, keeping a careful eye out on the crowd. despite never being in a fight in this his life, sebastian had a fuck ton of enemies. he was like that. the music became a faint murmuring as the group walked through a door and into an elaborately painted hallway. the walls were a warm golden color, while the ceiling and its floors were covered in mirrored tile. the group continued on, armando continued to linger in the back. amongst the drunken laughter of sebastian and his friends, was this clicking sound.

click! . . . click! . . . click!

armando searched around for the sound as they continued down the hallway, eyes roamed around until he found the source, woman in a pair of high heels. they weren’t just any, regular pair of heels, they were black-patent leather so kate louboutins. fortunately enough for armando he’s familiar with the shoe, he may or may not have purchased a pair or two for his past situationships. armando continues to observe; taking in the details, the woman’s shapely and toned legs, the rich brown skin, and the intricate zipper tattoo that began at the back of her ankle, and traveled up her leg. the remainder of tattoo was lost from the fabric of her dress.

a curiosity sparked inside of armando, watching the woman confidently strut the mirrored floor. he wanted to see just how far the tattoo went. she continued leaving a lingering smell in her wake. it was a combination of warm and spicy, like cinnamon and peach pie. her fragrance filled the molecules in the air he could practically taste it. after turning a corner, the group came to halt in front of pair of doors. from the other side, a pair of security guards opened up the doors.

sebastian and his friends drunkenly ooo-ed and ahh-ed and the ornate nature of the room. armando could care less about the sliver couch, the decked-out bar or the strippers that awaited them upon their arrival, he focused on her. although he got better view, she still alluded him, he could see her from the back, fully, a black bandage dress, accentuated her curves and that ass. . . it looked so round and perky like you could bounce a quarter off it, or grab a handful.

something slowly churned inside of armando as he moved further into the room. he leisurely grabbed a seat on the far end of the couch, with the hopes of seeing his mystery girl's face. the party continued on with the speakers on the room ceiling playing a feed of the dj’s set back out on the dance floor. sebastian and his groomsmen settled on the couch, excited for their lap dances. the lights dimmed too, not enough obscure one’s sight completely, but dark enough to bring on a certain atmosphere to the space.

armando scanned the room for his mystery girl. somehow she’s disappeared on him.

“aren’t you pretty one,” a voice whispered to him, distracting armando from his search. standing before was a woman, one of the strippers. her voice was overly smoky and performative. even the way she batting her long, wispy lashes, she was trying way too hard. he tilted his head away from his obstructed view, “you wanna dance, papí?” armando glanced up at her, a laugh bubbled up inside of him, he suppressed it, for her sake of course.

“nah, sweetheart. i’m good,” armando rasped. the woman shrugged, on to the next. when the stripper moved, standing directly in his sight was his mystery girl. even through the darkness, she was as clear as day.

her heart-shaped face, her button nose and glossy lips, her disney-drawn eyes, brown and wide, in they way they’ve always looked when she was shocked or anxious.

armando’s mystery girl, was no mystery at all. he knew her.

before he could call out to her, she bolted out of the room through the doors. armando glanced at sebastian, who was having a grand ‘ol time being motorboated by a voluptuous stripper. he’s fine. armando took off, following the cinnamon-peachy scent out to the hallway.

she was almost at the end of the hallway. . .

“leyna?” she stopped. she slowly turned around and faced him. “you runnin’ from me?”

her brows furrowed. “i wasn’t running. i was just. . .getting some air,”

armando’s lips twitched. he sauntered over, baring no shame is as he took, no, drank leyna in. it’s been so long, his eyes roamed over leyna. armando took his time, observing, noting every single detail, both old and new. he zeroes in on her legs, watching has she nervously bounces her right leg, the tattooed one. her louboutins make a soft clicking noise against the floor.

armando smirks.

“still shakin’. . .you must be nervous,” armando gestured, it was a tick leyna’s had since she was a kid. leyna frowned, she stopped bouncing. she folded arms around her chest.

“please, i’m not nervous,” she sassed. her glossy lips pursed, forming into a small pout. such a brat. he wanted to kiss the pout off her lips. “anyways, what are you doing here, in miami?”

for a moment, he thinks. armando could tell her the truth flat out: he’s here in miami for business, and his only job was ensuring that sebastian, sober or not, makes it down the isle. . .or he could stretch the truth out. make it a game for himself. anything to distract leyna, even if it’s for a short while.

so, armando shrugs. “business,”

“business? that’s it? it’s been ten years armando, that’s all you have to say?”

armando steps closer to leyna. his over 6-foot frame easily towers over her petite 5-foot-3 frame. has she always been so tiny? he reaches out towards her, the corner of his lips twitch as leyna’s chest rises as her breath catches in her throat. he twirls a long strand of between his fingers, before giving it a gentle tug.

“s’ somewhere we can talk?”

“armando,” leyna sighed. her voice was all high and pitchy, it scratched a certain part of his brain. a flood of memories came surging through. he need hear leyna say his name like that again. “i’m working. both of us should get b-back,”

leyna moves past him, armando doesn’t protest. as she starts walking away, armando reaches into his pant’s pocket.

“how much?” leyna spins around on her heels. a flicker of curiosity dances in her eyes.

“huh?” armando watches leyna eyes light up even more when pulls a money clip out. he thumbs through several bills before he lifts it up.

“its ‘bout three g’s in my hand. should be enough for a shift plus tips, yeah?” her eyes bounce between the money and armando. he can see the wheels in her mind turn, she chews on the bottom of her glossy lips.

“10-minutes. that’s all i can do,” armando nodded. he placed the money in her hand, his fingers gently brushed against hers. ten minutes is all he needs.

armando follows leyna down the hallway, opposite of the party. his eyes roamed, watching leyna’s body sway as she walked. he shouldn’t be turned on from a walk but he was. leyna didn’t walk, she glided. so effortless, and so easy, better then any it was something about seeing her so confidence all these years later. it was refreshing, armando dealt with so many fakes and try hards in his line of business. leyna’s confidence was real. she was real.

“i can feel you staring,” leyna sassed. they stop at a door, she quickly inputs a set of numbers on a keypad. the door clicks.

“i like what i see,” leyna shakes her head, she opens the door, stepping aside to let armando walk in front of her.

the room itself was half the size of the v.i.p. room, and opposite in aesthetics too. the walls were painted a nice, creamy beige, with a matching colored couch. on the far wall, there was an elaborate shelf display old-used bottles of champagne. armando steps inside, taking the room in. the door softly closes, with a click. the room is quiet.

“so,” leyna drawls. she takes a seat on the couch. armando follows suit, sitting next to her. their knees almost graze each others. she flips her hair over her shoulder. “wanna tell me the real reason why you’re here in miami?”

armando chuckles. “a wedding. my cousin ‘s gettin’ married,”

“alejandra?” she remembered, of course she did. she was always to so knowledgeable and attentive. she used to be like that to him.

“yeaaah. she’s been lovin’ bein’ in charge of everybody with the plannin’ and stuff,”

“i hope she’s not bogging you down too much,” his lips tipped into a teeny-tiny smile. she still was still the ever-doting teacher, worried about her student.

“nah. wedding plannin’ ain’t my thing. besides, i’m just assigned babysittin’ duty for sebastian,”

“mhm. i would’ve never paired them together. alejandra, from what i remembered, was so kind, and funny, smart too! sebastian is just a grade-a asshole who likes wreck every club he goes to and piss in public,” armando chuckles as leyna shivers, maybe recalling a memory. armando reaches for the hem of her dress, he toys with it between his fingers. she doesn’t stop him.

“she loves ‘em i guess,” part of that was true, their marriage was arranged yet, alejandra told him that she’s learned to love parts of sebastian. there’s a part of him that wished it wasn’t like that for her.

“i wish her the best,” leyna spoke solemnly.

the room fell quiet, armando still toyed with the edge of leyna’s dress. he tipped his head, looking at leyna.

“you’ve been good though, yeah,” he meant for it to be question but it came out as a statement. she had to be good though, she looked good, and had this fancy ass job at one of miami’s most exclusive clubs. life had to be good.

leyna’s leg began to bounce, as she twirled a strand of hair around her finger. “yeah, i guess. my life’s been pretty boring since you’ve seen me,”

“tell me,”

“well. . .” leyna trailed. her leg still bounced. armando wanted grab her ankle and make her stop. why was his girl nervous? “i graduated, i gotta b.a. in business administration, got this hostess job short after, met my best friend ana here, let me tell you she’s literally the best cook,” she was rambling, slightly, but armando didn’t care, he wanted to know every single detail. he missed his girl, his bambi. they need to make up for lost time.

“we’re going into business together, a restaurant. i’m going to take care of all the logistics, put my degree to good use, finally. so, yeah, i’m really excited about it, as you can see. but yeah, uhm, what else, i was engaged,”

armando stopped toying with the hem. he turned and took her fully, her right leg bounced even more so. that’s what she was nervous about.

“what happened?”

“uhm,” her beautiful features held a pained expression. a twinge of anger sprouted inside of armando, seeing her like this. whoever made his girl upset needed their ass kicked, especially by him. “to make a long story short, he cheated, multiple times actually. i just got tired being the laughing stock in every room,” she lowered her gaze and fiddled her hands.

armando slowly reached for leyna’s hands. her hands were so soft under his touch. with his thumb, he drew light circles on the back of her hands. a strange emotion was bubbling up inside him, he couldn’t put his finger on exactly what it was. a little anger, some jealousy, a little sadness too, it was just too much fully explain but the his urge was clear. armando wanted to pull her close, and take care of her like she truly deserves.

“he didn’t deserve you,” she looks at him now, her big brown eyes all wide and glossed over. long lashes fluttered against the tops of her round cheeks, her resemblance to bambi was spot-on. the air became thick around them, and that urge, thrummed in his bones.

armando wanted leyna and he wanted her bad.

“you deserved somebody that’ll take care of you,” he rasped. his words were sincere and true, leyna was one of the kindest, tentative, sweetest people he had ever known. she shown him a kindness when most people wouldn’t. leyna deserved the world, and then some. “you deserve someone who’s gonna protect you, an’ spoil you, an’ just fuckin’ be there,” words were spilling out of his mouth now, like faucet left on. he leans in closer to her, glancing down her glossy lips. he licked his own. “bambi, you deserve someone that can make you feel good,” armando was so dangerously close he could see a breath get caught in leyna’s throat, her chest slight rose up in response. he caught a glimpse of leyna’s jet-black bra that held up her ample cleavage. the peachy-cinnamon smell radiated off the column of her neck, it enticed him, slowly drawing him closer and closer to her.

armando leaned his forehead against her’s.

“fuck, bambi,”

“. . .armando,” leyna whispered. her voice was so pitchy and soft, it smoothed over him. it triggered a hunger for leyna, more veracious than ever before. ten years of distance and unresolved feelings, danced in his blood. his palms itched with desire to squeeze and caress leyna’s soft skin. he wanted to touch the softest part of her.

“please. bambi, ‘jus lemme care take of you, make you feel good. . . i never get what i want,”

leyna back away from him, keeping a steady gaze, she caressed the side of armando’s cheek. her manicured acrylics lightly scratched at his goatee. a bolt of electricity shot through his body when her thumb swiped at his bottom lip.

“i’ve only been with a few men after you,” leyna confessed. “none of them, including my ex, made me feel good like you did. you were the only one,”

armando groaned, lowly. everything in him surged to the surface, so much so he was bursting at the seams.

“c’mere,” leyna obliged. he pulls her in for a kiss. at first it was chaste and sweet, armando tried to ease into the kiss, but the pillowy, softness of her lips and her sweet peachy smell drove him insane. he deepened the kiss, moving his lips hungrily, against hers, while he cradled her head. when he licked her lips, leyna opened her mouth to allow him to explore with her with his tongue. she tasted like peach pie.

"i need it," leyna moaned into his mouth. armando hovered over her lips.

"you say somethin' bambi," he teased, he slid his hands down her frame, stopping at her ass. he rubbed and squeezed, before smacking it. she squeaked.

"baby, please," leyna whimpered, she climbed into armando's lap. she slowly, ground down on his lap, she gasped, feeling his hardness. the look she had in her eyes, a mix of lust and longing, shot straight through him and went to his dick. he snaked a hand towards the back of her neck, he gently gripped the soft flesh. she stopped her movement.

"take that fuckin' dress off," he groaned. leyna blinks. she rose from his lap and proceeded to shimmy out of the dress. she let it pool at her feet before stepping out of it. armando couldn't help himself, all of her smooth curves, and deep rich skin, he just wanted to take a big bite of her. he pulled her back to the couch, switching places, and slid between her legs.

there was no pretense, armando immediately spread her legs wide went straight for leyna's pussy. with his thumb he rubs at her clothed pussy. he revels in the small squelching noise that her pussy makes. leyna whimpers, looking down at him with those big, brown eyes. he chuckles.

“still sensitive?” leyna quickly nods. armando chuckles again, he peels her to the side, admiring the slivery trail of arousal that drips from her pussy onto the fabric. he hums. such a pretty pussy. leyna's pink pussy drips and drools with arousal, fully open and ready, all for him. with calloused thumbs, armando rubs small, droopy circles on the inner parts of leyna's thighs. he inched forward, replacing his fingers with chaste kisses, they create goosebumps on leyna's skin. he licks his lips, keeping his eyes on leyna, kisses her clit.

"fuck! armando,"

he anticipates. before she could ask, armando lays his tongue flat against leyna’s dripping core.

“oo-ooh,” she coos. “you ‘remembered,”

how could he forget, images of him buried between leyna’s shaky legs are burned into his brain. countless lessons from her, teaching him, guiding him. he swears he can hear her voice, way back when during that time.

. . .spread your tongue, a little to the left. yeah ‘just like that, s’ good. good boy. . .

a forceful yank on armando’s curls bring him back to reality. he adjusts his grip on leyna’s thighs, spreading them wider, the pads of his thumbs caressing the plushness.

“fuuuck me! oh my g-god,” leyna whines. armando smiles against her skin, his tongue licks a long stripe against leyna’s core. her arousal is sweet, like peach ice cream. it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever, will ever taste. his sweet girl. armando groans, pulling back slightly, he brings his calloused thumb to leyna’s swollen nub. armando rubs her clit, reveling in her response to his touch. she practically glows, deep brown skin, completely flushed, reddening a bit at her chest. her glossy lips formed into a cute pout, her bottom lip poking ever so slightly, just begging to be kissed, to be bitten by him. seeing her so overwhelmed, so pleasured, sends wave of arousal through armando. his erection painfully rubs against the fabric of his slacks.

“eyes on me, baby,” armando rasps. leyna’s struggle to stay open, succumbing to euphoria between her legs. smack! leyna’s disney-drawn eyes shoot open, to look down at armando. for a moment armando sees something flicker in them, it strips him bare, milliseconds feel like years under her gaze. armando pulls back, spitting directly onto leyna’s pussy. with a new vigor, he dives back in, his tongue licks and drags up and down her softness. his tongue swirls the mix, leyna’s honeyed arousal and his spit, gathering and spreading it onto her clit. he begins suckling the nub, feeling leyna’s sugary essence drip down his goateed chin.

“a-armando! wait s-slow down,”

“uh-uh. you’re my big girl,” he spits, again. armando slurps leyna’s clit, hard. no better then a starving man. “you can take it,”

“c-cumin’. i’m cumin’ baby, pleaseee,” leyna lets out a melodious whine. better than any song or music he’s ever heard. nothing can compare to his girl’s angelic voice, all pitchy and delicate. it’s music to his ears.

“ 's i got you. i got you bambi, let it out,” armando drawls. he sucks at leyna’s clit as it throbs against his tongue. her legs clamp down around armando’s head, this makes him push harder to get her over the edge. he switches his approach, one hand pries open leyna’s leg, with the other he slips his middle finger inside her entrance, slowly prodding her open, he flattens his tongue to lap at her clit. with the other hand he reaches, palming one of her bra covered breasts.

“s-shit! don’t stop please,” leyna is babbling now. she rakes her nails through armando’s thick curls. armando can feel her tightening around his middle finger. she’s close. . .

bam! the band snaps. leyna orgasms hard.

her sugary, syrupy essence flows out of her. leyna holds armando’s head close, she rides out her aftershocks, jerking lightly when his tongue and nose glides over her sensitive clit. slowly, armando pulls away, a string a saliva connects from his lips to leyna’s pussy. he rose up from his crouched position. armando towering over her, his eyes gazing down at her, dilated pupils heavy with dangerous mix, care and lust, maybe even something more. the soft lighting catches armando’s glistening goatee and cheeks. his pink tongue swipes at his bottom lip, like a coyote eyeing its subdued prey.

leyna was everything at the same time. his baby take care of, his princesa to spoil, and his bambi to devour.

“h-how’d you get so good,” leyna stammered. her breathing is still a bit choppy.

“learned from the best,” he rasps, he eyes slowly rake over, as if he was studying her. he wanted to remember her in this very moment.

leyna smiles, sheepishly.

“c’mere,” armando beckons. leyna obliges, she sits up, scooting closer to the edge of the couch. armando tilts leyna chin upwards, he leans in, capturing her lips. he nips at her bottom lip, when leyna opens her mouth, he seizes the opportunity to slip his tongue inside. she tastes herself on his tongue, it starts off tangy but quickly bleeds into a saccharine taste. their tongues wrestle. before, in this war of mouths, leyna used to win, mostly due to armando’s lack of experience, but now it’s much different. he wields his tongue masterfully like knight and their sword, twisting and tasting every inch of her mouth.

“you ready for me princesa?” leyna nods. he watches as her mouth opens and then closes when he slips his shirt over his head. she's pratically drooling at the sight. she should be, countless hours of training have contributed to his sculpted body, all muscles and hard edges. mindlessly her fingers trace over his chest. nails drag over the ridges of his six-pack. she stops her ogling when she sees a scar near his rib cage. armando notices.

“bar fight. fucker, got me good with a broken bottle. had to get a couple stitches,”

“oh baby,”

“hey, hey,” armando gently grabs leyna’s hand. he drags it up, so it cups his cheek. “i’m good,”

his voice holds sincerity as that strange feeling returns inside of him. that urge to hold and take care of leyna, to protect her from his woes, the world, and all its troubles. leyna reaches down to unbuckle his pants, but he stops her.

“not tonight, bambi. wanna be inside of you,”

leyna gulps. he cocks his head to the side.

“don't get all shy on me now," armando tilts her chin. "you know what to do, princesa,"

leyna peels out of her slightly ripped and soaked panties, she tosses them aside. she reaches behind for the clasp of her bra, she unbuckles it, carefully she lays it on the couch next to her dress. when leyna reaches down to slip off her heels, armando tsks.

“nah. leave ‘em on,” armando bites his lip, his eyes sweeping over her naked frame. she’s changed a lot over ten years, she’s curvier, with an obvious plushness and fullness in her breasts and ass. noticeably, there’s a small tattoo of a lotus flower on the upper right side of her rib cage. “fuck, bambi. you all grown up,”

leyna opens her mouth to retort but she shuts it as armando unbuttons his pants.

"you trust me?" armando huffs, he slowly pumps his hardness, feeling pre-cum leaking from his tip.

“of course, i trust you,” leyna replies softly.

“shit princesa. you can’t say stuff like that,” armando murmurs.

he slowly spins leyna around, her back was at his front. he made sure slowly grind his bulge into her, so she could feel all of him.

“soy el rey ahora,” there a slight edge in his voice, it contrasted with the soft circles he drew on the back of her neck. “on all fours, princesa,” leyna obliges. she moves towards the couch, planting herself on her hands and knees, and arches her back. armando groans as she makes a show of it, wiggling her hips in the process. “so pretty liked this. my sweet girl, my bambi, imma fuck the shit out of you,” armando all but growls. a hand reaches into her scalp, fisting her hair. he forcefully tugs at her locks, pulling her head backwards.

leyna whimpers. “baby ‘s rough,”

armando roughly spits on her pussy. he watches as the spit slides down, mixing with her slickness. he’s not nice, not like before. all the care and attention he paid towards her pussy, that armando was long gone. now, replaced with a meaner, tunnel-vision armando. he pushes himself, filling her to her hilt, his stretching out her pussy, all of ridges of his dick rubbing against her gummy walls. she's so warm and tight, a delicious contrast of pushing and pulling him further inside of her. a chill runs down leyna's spine while her manicured nails claw at the fabric of the couch.

“oh fuck!” leyna shouts, armando smacks her right ass-cheek. he executes a few shallow thrusts, barely moving in and out of leyna.

“how bad you wan’ it?” armando drawls.

“so bad baby, please fuck me, please,” leyna’s hoarseness sounds ethereal to him. the breathy way she sounds, the want, the need, makes him even harder. so much so it pains him.

“i got you,” armando tightens the hold he has on leyna’s hair and hip. he pulls all the way out, admiring the mess his girl makes on his dick. the glossy shine the covers him. he stifles back a moan, her warmth and softness send waves of pleasure straight to his dick. he bites down on his lip, watching leyna’s ass ripple against him with every stroke. a bolt of electricity shoots through him as she clamps down on him, her walls tighten, and grip at his dick. she's close.

"i feel you, you cumin' bambi?"

“y-yes, oooh fuck! i’m so close. don’t stop,"

a loud chiming erupts over the sex sounds leyna makes. armando can feel a vibration in his pocket. he reluctantly reaches and sees who’s calling his phone, he answers, while still keeping a steady pace. pumping in and in out of leyna.

“fuck, you want,” armando growls, one hand on the phone while the other holds onto leyna’s shoulder. she moans a little too loud, so he covers her mouth. over the phone one of sebastian’s groomsmen informs that sebastian has wandered off with one of the strippers, no one can find him and he’s left his phone behind. “fuck me. fuckin’ pendejo, i-i’ll be over in a minute, shit,” armando slows down his pace before pulling out completely, leyna whines at the loss of contract.

“i gotta go,” armando sighs. leyna now sits facing him.

“but why? what’s the matter?” his heart pangs at the disappointment that edges out in her voice. he quickly redresses, buckling his pants and slipping his shirt back over and on.

“a situation came up,” he leans down and kisses her on the cheek. “imma come an’ find you,”

without another look or word, armando walks out of the v.i.p. with a hard dick and an odd feeling panging in his chest.

[misting-moors]

watching the "making of lawrence of arabia" documentary. i was so caught up in the euphoria of omar sharif in a button up that i ignored the atrocity that is peter o'toole's hot topic-ass hawaiian shirt

[itsrosiesstuff]

Omar has to press the on button to film the tik tok

[blackynsupremacy]

THERE’S SOMETHING

ABOUT YOU.

CHAPTER 2

pairing: smallville!clark kent x blackfem!oc

fandom: smallville (2001-2011)

guest starring: aaliyah haughton as lyric james

also starring:

angela bassett as crystal james

rick fox as joseph james

summary: ever since lana lang has moved in with the sullivan’s, clark kent’s nightly telescopic views of the galaxy and daily glimpse of the sunrise tend to get lonelier. that is until a moving truck, a wandering amicable feline, and her frustrated owner, lyric james, makes her debut in his life as her family are the new owners of the old potter house next door. things between the new neighbors start to shift as clark is tasked as her personal tour guide at her new school. one little slip is all it takes for her to learn he’s more than meets the eye in this small town.

contains: lots of words, friends to neighbors, use of gifs for visuals, tooth rotting fluff, a bit of angst, lyric and clark getting closer, mild swearing, cute moments, slow burn, main audience is black readers but everyone is welcome. lyric’s thoughts, clark’s thoughts.

taglist: @zombiehe4rt @ellethespaceunicorn @elitesanjisimp @jkr820 @rosiestalez @sabrinasopposite @tryingtograspctrl @simply-the-best23 @gxuxhdjdu @afrowrites @afrogirl3005 @paisholotus

important a/n: for my black smallville girlies, i have created a smallville x black reader tag, so please if you have any content for any smallville characters idc if it’s a rant, fanfic, or meme, put it under that tag because we deserve that space and i want to see more than my stuff on there!

please read: CHAPTER 1

it was sunday afternoon and the james family were now officially moved in. furniture, clothing, and appliances were all accounted for and every necessary document for a citizen in smallville. lyric’s parents went next door to meet the kents to properly introduce themselves before venturing out to find the local market to freshly stock their kitchen with food and have their first meal together as a family in their new home. lyric stayed back, claiming she was tired from all of the lifting, moving, and organizing. she sat on her bed with her legs crossed and a sleeping noir on her lap as her thumbs pressed on the right arrow button of her digital photo album. she always saw it as a hobby, but her friends back home were always impressed with her photography skills. lyric adored to capture the realness and beauty of her city. she appreciated that it didn’t have to be a large garden or a gigantic skyscraper for it to be art. her album included graffiti painted murals, street musicians sharing their talents, or a child’s beaming smile as they indulged in an ice cream cone on a hot summer day. these photos brought her nostalgic bliss until she clicked upon a picture of her and omar. lyric felt such a twinge of pain that bit at her chest and a suffocating tightness in her throat that she inhaled and simply shut off the device. she picked up noir in one arm to get off her bed and place it on her desk next to her computer. if she didn’t do that, the thing would’ve thrown and smashed into the wall.

there was one thing that could make this feeling go away: a vinyl. lyric placed noir on the floor to roam around the room as she pleased before crossed over to her shelf that her record player atop of it. obviously being the year 2002, a lot of people her age wouldn’t care for them now, but this was a family heirloom that her grandpa, joseph “jojo” (as she affectionately called him) sr., passed down to lyric for her to enjoy music of the past and present. the brown skinned girl made the adjustments that the player was ready before she squats down to find a suitable album to listen to. hmm. beatles? nah. duke ellington? not today. whitney houston? maybe. lauryn hill? yes! lyric slid “the miseducation of lauryn hill” vinyl from the album cover to gingerly place it on the turntable. her fingertips grip the tonearm to maneuver the needle that gently descends onto the spinning vinyl, a soft crackle is heard in the room, indicating the start of one of lyric’s favorite songs. the sultry notes of " ex-factor” filled the room, lyric lost herself in the moment as she turned the dial to increase the volume. she grabs her hairbrush from her vanity to lip-sync as if she were on a world tour with her audience of noir who seemed to enjoy the impromptu performance of her owner swaying her hips to every rhythm. lyric felt the vibe hit differently as she sang along with the breakdown.

(care) care for me, care for me

I know you care for me

(there) there for me, there for me

said you'd be there for me

(cry) cry for me, cry for me

you said you'd die for me

(give) give to me, give to me

why won't you live for me?

care care for me, care for me

you said you'd care for me

(there) there for me, there for me

said you'd be there for me

(cry) cry for me, cry for me

you said you'd die for me

(give) give to me, give to me

why won't you live for me?

(care) care for me, care for me

you said you'd care for me—

“LYRIC RENEÉ JAMES!”

just as she hit a high note, crystal’s voice boomed as she burst through the door. lyric halted to turn around to see her mother’s facial expression change from a feigned stern look to one of amusement and laughter in her voice. lyric sheepishly giggled as she walked to the player to lift the needle off the vinyl to stop the music.

“hey, mama! what’s up? did the store have the frosted flakes?” she asked stumbling towards her mother. whenever lyric was caught like that, she attempted to take the attention off herself by changing the topic of conversation.

“girl, you and that record player! i’ve been calling your name for five minutes, but it looks like you were selling out stadiums on your world tour like you’re a child of destiny or something.” crystal quipped as she crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe.

“ma, it’s destiny’s child and i’m sorry. i just wanted to kill some time until ya’ll got back. is there anything you need me to do?”

“don’t get smart, girl. yes, get dressed. we’re going to dinner!”

“oh, for real? ya’ll found a restaurant out here that fast?”

“it’s not a restaurant, child. we’re just going next door. that nice family of that sweet boy—uh, honey, what’s his name? he found noir for you yesterday.”

“clark—clark kent?”

“yeah yeah, him! his family invited us to have dinner tonight, so start getting ready before we leave you.” crystal demands before she saunters out of her daughter’s room.

“you couldn’t leave me if you tried, ma!” lyric jokingly called out with a chuckle.

“try me and find out!” crystal responds a sound of her bedroom door opening and closing following suit.

lyric giggles while shaking her head before she goes to her closet to assemble the attire of a cropped black top with long mesh sleeves, khaki colored jeans, a sleeveless army patterned vest with a zipper, and combat boots. within the next thirty minutes, she did her hygiene, got dressed, and briefly primped herself in the mirror until her she deemed her final look presentable for the evening ahead. once her signature hoops were on, she kissed noir on the head and warned the cat to be on her best behavior before going downstairs to find her parents at the front door waiting to make their journey to the kents. she noticed her mother holding what looked like a boxed dessert of some kind before they walked out the door. it was a mild autumn temperature with a light breeze. the sun was starting to set painting an array of vibrant colors in the sky and setting the stage for the moon and stars to take their role for the night.

the family reached the kent house and stepped onto the porch. joseph glanced at his watch that indicated that they were ten minutes early and used his index finger to ring the doorbell. jonathan and martha answered the door within a second, amicably greeting the family with pleasant grins, hugs, and handshakes before they were cordially welcomed in the home. lyric’s eyes perused the classic, american interior of the living room, wooden staircase, and the multitude of family photos. lyric found it all so endearing her trance was broken when she heard a male voice speak her name with a friendly tone, it was not as deep as her father’s nor mr. kent’s.

“hey, lyric!” the girl’s head turned and her earthy eyes ascended to meet his of sky blue and an award winning smile on his lips. lyric could definitely peep his simple, classic farmhouse style of a red plaid flannel with jeans and boots, but he looked well put together nonetheless and not to mention of his clean, fresh scent.

“hey! what’s up? how ya’ doing, clark?” lyric addressed him with a dimpled smile, standing with one leg in front of the other and placed her hands in her back pockets. she wasn’t really sure what to do with her hands at the moment, she’s already shaken his hand when they first met, but she didn’t want to be too forward to give him at least a side hug.

“i’m good—well, great! i’m glad you guys could make it. you look really good, by the way. i like your outfit!” clark was trying not to stutter as his cheeks turned a bit red because he was telling the truth. it wasn’t a lie that he thought lyric was pretty, but to not come off as a creep and secure a potential friendship with his new neighbor, he complimented her fashion style that was also eye-catching. it was comfortable, simple, but it stood out from the rest with both neutral and vibrant colors.

“thanks, clark! i appreciate the invite and you don’t look bad yourself. you clean up real nice.” lyric honestly reciprocates the compliment. he’s too sweet. who needs to eat when your ego’s been fed?

all of the conversations were halted as the kents took the initiative to lead the james family to the kitchen. they gathered at the table and the husbands respectfully sat with their wives while clark pulled out a chair for lyric to sit next to him. with a soft voice and a smile of gratitude, she utters a thank you to the boy before taking her seat. the meal consisted of chicken fried steak and a spread of fresh farm to table cuisine that tasted like tlc was injected into every bite they took. as the families got to know each other, they conversed about the smallville community such as people they should (or shouldn’t) meet, places to go, and things to do. lyric was piqued at the mention of a meteor shower that previously happened in the fall of 1989, but saddened to learn that there was destruction, trauma, and long lasting effects, but the people of smallville had eventually learned to move on.

“oh my goodness, that’s awful!” crystal gasped with an appalled expression.

“it truly was—life altering, but not all was lost that day because we gained a son. that was the day when clark came into our lives and i wouldn’t change a thing.” martha responds with fondness as she places her palm on her chest and glances at her son earning smiles from everyone at the table.

“aww, that’s so sweet, mrs. kent!” lyric cooed as her chest swelled with warmth. she was a sucker for a happy ending.

“ah, mom. please don’t get too emotional! not in front of our new neighbors.” he jokingly pleads in slight embarrassment as his cheeks flush to scarlet causing the rest of the table to chuckle. mr. kent mentioned a man by the name of “luthor” lyric forgot his first name, but he’s a wealthy ceo of his own company. he’s originally from a city called metropolis, but moved into a mansion in smallville. the james family discovered that clark actually saved his life and they became friends ever since, hence his connections to the kents. lyric was amazed at the farm boy’s bravery, but she also detected in mr. kent’s tone that there was some mixed feelings about this dude. clark would chime in to come to this man’s defense. meteor showers, rich guys, clark being a hero. maybe this town does have some interesting stuff going on.

after dinner and with their parents’ permission, clark and lyric were excused to go to his loft in the barn to continue to know more about each other. it was already dark outside, but the many stars in the sky set the scenery. clark gave lyric a short “tour of his fortress of solitude”. lyric thought of clark to be lucky to have this huge, private space and she found it thoughtful that he at least felt comfortable with her enough to share it with her. he guided her to the telescope by the open loft window. she leaned forward and peeked her earth toned pupil through the eyepiece and he made sure to adjust the focus to capture all of the captivating spots that inhabited with galaxy. lyric felt the warmth of clark’s towering figure behind hers and she listens to his passionate, tenor voice as he educates her about the cosmos and eagerly answers any questions she has. it sounds like he wants to be up there. maybe he wants to be an astronaut after graduation.

a light bulb goes off in lyric’s brain before she moves back from the telescope and her two fingertips lightly tap his forearm to which clark’s eyes are immediately on hers.

“hey, clark?” she questions.

“yes, lyric?” he responds.

“i got an idea.”

“what might that be?”

“you wanna play 21 questions? i know it’s kinda lame, but it’s a good way to know each other if we’re next door neighbors and going to the same school, right? so are you in or are you out?”

“i’m in! do you wanna sit?” he offers gesturing to the sofa. lyric nods in agreement and they seat themselves on the cushions.

“bet! i’ll start with something basic. what’s your favorite color?”

“mostly blue and red. what part of new york were you from?”

“brooklyn. i’mma get this out the way—how tall are you?”

clark chuckles before answering.

“6’3. what’s something you love doing the most?”

“taking pictures with my camera! especially things that give me inspiration. i wish i had it take a picture of these stars…what’s your favorite food?”

“pizza. i can’t live without it if i wanted to!”

“get outta my head, that’s my favorite, too! there was this place back home called tony’s and let me tell you, they had the best new york style pizza on the block. they’d make the slices so big that you gotta fold it like a taco to get one bite and you’ll never finish it the day you get it.”

“sounds like my kind of place! i’m never one to back down from a challenge, so i’ll take your word for it, lyric. oh, right! the game— i wonder how’d you get to know noir?”

“that’s an interesting story. well, there was always this cat in my neighborhood just going on about its business, but some people were superstitious and thought she was bad luck because you know, she’s a black cat, so they would yell and curse at her like she was something evil. i was 12 years old and she was so cute to me, so i always fed her a little treat or just gave her a bowl of milk. one day it was raining, and i was in such a rush to get in the house that i didn’t see that i left the door cracked and she followed me in. i knew my parents wouldn’t feel too excited about any animals in our house, but she was cold, wet, and shivering, so i did what i had to do. i took care of her and it took two weeks of begging and my parents let me keep her because i was showing them that i was mature when i took care of her and the rest is history.”

“that was very kind of you, lyric. noir’s very lucky to have you as her owner, you’re basically her hero when everyone made her feel like an outcast.” clark’s lips formed a small smile and commended her as he peered at her side profile. lyric just sheepishly smiled as her dimpled cheeks radiated with heat.

“i think it’s the other way around! you would’ve done the same. the last i checked i didn’t save a rich dude from drowning, so you’re more of a hero than me.” lyric and clark chortled before she resumed the game with a question,

“what do you wanna do when you graduate, clark?” lyric quizzically awaited his answer, her eyes boring into his as her elbows rest on her lap with her chin resting in her palms. clark sits in thought for a few seconds to honestly get the answer from his brain through his mouth.

“i think i want to go into journalism. there’s something fascinating about getting a fresh scoop on something and you jump down the rabbit hole to get all of the facts from all of these different sources. the only downside is the possibility of invading someone’s privacy, breaking someone’s trust, and proofreading an article.” he states before they both chuckle at his joke.

“oh, really? for a minute, i thought you wanted to work for nasa with the way you were talking about the stars. it was like you were giving me a tour of your hometown, but it was the galaxy. journalism is cool though. clark, you could be on tv if you wanted to! it sounds to me you got it down to tee. you’ll do numbers, trust.” lyric shift her leg over the other and placed her elbow on the back edge of sofa, leaning her head in her palm.

“i’ve never got a chance to ask you this, but i really like your name. it’s unique. what gave your folks the inspiration?” he questioned and wittingly pretended to hold an invisible microphone with a playful smirk curving on his lips and a piqued glint in his eyes as he pointed his hand towards her lips, awaiting her answer. clark’s smile grew wider as lyric giggled and clasped her hands together.

“aha! i hear the journalist popping out now. we’re really doing an interview, huh? okay, well, my mama loves music. she used to play piano and write poetry as a hobby, but back then, her parents wanted her to do something more…practical and she went on to be a nurse. of course she loves what she does, but she told me that when i cried for the first time after i was first born, i was like the lyrics to her song of her life, so yeah, that’s why they named me lyric.” both teens simpered at the thought of their mother’s affection towards them.

“i can tell that you and your mom are close like my mom and i.”

“you’re not wrong, your mom speaks fondly on a day of tragedy and chaos because of you! there’s no doubt that she loves you a lot, clark. it must’ve been hectic giving birth during a meteor shower.”

there was a beat of silence.

“well— i’m actually adopted. my parents adopted me when i was around three years old and they raised me ever since. i’m not ashamed of it of course because they only want what’s best for me.” clark uttered as he cleared the air of awkwardness when he noticed lyric raise her brows in awe.

“oh-ooh, i’m so sorry, clark! i shouldn’t have assumed, it’s just—ya’ll are so tight, so i couldn’t tell. never be ashamed because blood doesn’t always mean family. as long as you got people in your circle who truly care for you at your best and at your worst, that’s family.” her hand slowly reaches toward him to place her palm on his shoulder, giving it a reassuring touch which clark receives with a small smile.

“thank you, lyric.”

“don’t mention it, clark.”

clark places his hand on top of hers for a brief moment and they both pulled away before things got too awkward between them than it should. for the next several minutes they continued with their inquiries about their lives, interests, favorites, and pet peeves. the parents were about to go their separate ways and made their way out to the porch to fetch the kids, but what they heard was laughter and a good conversation echoing from the open window in the barn. they all found it endearing, but joseph and crystal had to be up and at em’ the next day for their first days at work and lyric, her first day of school. jonathan and martha insisted to the james’ that lyric can hang for a few more minutes because they enjoy lyric’s company for their son and the kids would eventually tire out from their activity. knowing their son, he would bring their daughter home safely in one piece. crystal and joseph pondered on it and decided it would be okay, but they all agreed that if lyric wasn’t home by nine, one of them would pick her up. they bid each other a friendly goodnight and the james couple walked down the path and retired to their home.

lyric and clark stood outside the barn. it was pitch out, but the sky was still scattered with the soft shining light of the stars. her laughter mingling with the cool evening breeze. clark stood at her side with his hands stuffed in his pockets and an easy smile on his face, both of them reluctant to let the night come to an end.

“i swear, my parents be playing with me like that! of course they’d leave me if i don’t haul ass in time.” she chuckled, kicking a pebble to the side and glances over her shoulder to the familiar path that led to her house. clark laughed, a warm sound that filled the space between them.

“i wouldn’t be surprised. they’re the type of people that when they’re ready to go, they’re ready to go, even if you’re not. ,” he teased, his azure eyes sparkling. the connection between the teens felt easy like a sunday morning, it was a kind of chemistry that made them forget their mundane worries all together, but as the stars twinkled with every second passing by, reality crept back in.

“ugh, i gotta go home. god forbid i oversleep on my first day tomorrow.,” with a sad smile, lyric sighed glanced at the path again.

clark straightened his posture, his smile dimming just a touch. “i’ll walk you home, lyric.” he offered without missing a beat.

“thanks, clark!” she replied and they started their journey.

as they strolled side by side, the air was thick with a comfortable silence momentarily, but they resumed the stories of themselves and their friends. with each giggle and chuckle, it what seemed like a brisk two minute walk, felt more like a five mile stroll to her house. when they reached her front door, it felt too soon.

“goodnight, lyric. it was great seeing you again.” clark said, the volume of his voice diminished as he took a small step back. he didn’t want to make a bad impression by waking her parents.

“goodnight, clark! i can’t thank you enough. i’ll meet you at that bus stop where you showed me in the morning.” she utters, her heart fluttering a bit and a tickle in her throat. as her knuckles were about to knock on the door, clark called her name, his tone almost hesitant.

here it goes, it’s now or never.

“hey—um, how about we meet early tomorrow to watch the sunrise? it’s really beautiful out there and maybe it would spark inspiration for you to take pictures on your camera. that’s if you’re okay with it of course! ,” he suggested, a hint of nervousness in his voice.

he could see lyric’s toffee toned face light up at the idea. “yeah, i’m down for that. i don’t usually like waking up early, but you’re good in my book, so why not?” she responded, her smile beaming and she turned briefly to knock on the door to signal for parents to answer. joseph came to the door and graciously thanked clark for getting his daughter home in time.

as lyric stepped inside, she glanced at clark one last time to give him a wave and after he reciprocated, she disappeared behind the door. she didn’t realize the dopey smile that was stuck on her face as she walked in, but joseph did. with an amused grin, the older male crossed his arms and quipped,

“what you smilin’ about, lil’ girl?”

lyric stopped and cleared her throat, embarrassed that she was in such a trance that she didn’t realize her facial expression.

“uh—n-nothing just had a good time, daddy.” she stammered and twiddled her fingers.

“mhm, sure didn’t seem like nothing. get some rest, baby girl. it’s your first day tomorrow.” joseph chuckles and bids his daughter goodnight with a kiss to her forehead and ascended up the stairs to join his wife in bed. lyric playfully groaned, rolled her eyes at her father’s antics, and followed suit to change out of her clothes to her nightly attire and silk head wrap. she gathers her already sleeping onyx kitty in her arms, but doesn’t forget to adjust her alarm clock to a decent, but early enough time to get ready and meet clark before school. her eyelids close to begin her slumber.

as clark walked home, he was excited for his meeting with lyric and for her to meet his friends at school, but he felt a twinge of guilt. he felt he was betraying his loyalty to lana because watching the sunrises would be their “thing”. sure, he loved her, but it wasn’t like she’s his girlfriend. lyric was just a (almost) friend, all he wanted was to make her feel welcome, and that thought warmed his heart. clark really hoped that she would come through in the morning. he didn’t see any harm at showing someone the beauty and wonders of his hometown especially if they came from a whole different setting. once he got home, clark helped his parents tidy up the kitchen, bid them goodnight, and rested his body for the following day.

[nneogram]

HIT ME UP

[URGENT; 11/23] PALESTINE.

PAIRING. wonwoo x reader (f)

GENRE. fluff, college!au

WORDCOUNT. 1k

WARNINGS. i think there’s one (1) expletive, wonwoo is not good at speaking on the phone

A/N. happy holidays and long time (loooong long time) no see! i can’t believe how quickly time has passed and i don’t know how long i’ll be back (though as always i have multiple works-in-progress rn) but for now enjoy this spur-of-the-moment piece i wrote while avoiding studying for my final that’s today. this is unedited! there could be typos and grammatical errors >.<

LISTEN TO. “hit me up” by omar apollo, dominic fike, & kenny beats.

Wonwoo knew it wasn’t a good idea to mention you to his roommate. Because now all Soonyoung wants to do is force Wonwoo to make the first move, something that A) wouldn’t end well and B) will never happen in the first place. Wonwoo would rather suffer an untimely death than be the one to initiate anything. And that’s saying something considering this final paper he was working on right now felt pretty much like death.

“Just call her. Hit her up and go, ‘I’m in love with you, please go out with me or else I’ll throw myself out the window.’” Soonyoung purposely pitches his voice up an octave.

“One,” Wonwoo types away on his laptop, paying no attention to his meddling roommate, “My voice sounds nothing like that. And two, throwing myself out the window isn’t as grave of a repercussion when you remember we live on the first floor.”

Soonyoung sighs. “Okay, how about starting small? Ask her out to dinner or something. Something simple and easy.”

Wonwoo fakes a laugh. “Bold of you to assume that’s easy. There’s nothing easy about calling the girl you like and asking her on a date.”

“You don’t even have to do the first part. I can call her, and all you have to do is ask her out.”

Soonyoung’s offer gets ignored as Wonwoo continues to stare at the half-empty word document on his laptop screen. Knowing his roommate won’t let up until he acquiesces in some way, Wonwoo absentmindedly agrees, saying something like, “Sure. Do whatever you want.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Wonwoo echoes his roommate and the room descends into silence. Ah, peace and quiet. Something that almost never happens with Soonyoung in the room-

It’s too quiet.

The gravity of the situation doesn’t sink in until he spots Soonyoung a few steps away, Wonwoo’s phone in hand, your contact name pulled up. And Soonyoung’s ring-adorned finger hovering over the “Call” button.

Wonwoo fumbles for the phone, but Soonyoung yanks it out of reach. Wonwoo can only stand in frozen terror as his roommate presses the button for speakerphone and the ringing drones on.

He’s further cemented to his spot when you actually pick up.

“Hello? Wonwoo?” The line crackles as your voice fills the room. Your voice sounds different on the phone - a little deeper, a little more hushed as though this was a private conversation. It was supposed to be a private conversation.

Wonwoo’s stunned silence would have continued if it were not for Soonyoung swatting at his shoulder. Talk to her, his roommate mouths. “Uhm, yeah, hi.” His voice threatens to crack at the end of his sentence, and he clears his throat.

“Hey.” There’s a hint of bemusement in your voice. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine. Sorry for the call, I usually don’t do that, -“

“-Yeah, I got a little confused,” you confess with a breathy laugh. “I wasn’t sure if something was wrong, and even if so I would’ve expected a cryptic text first.”

God, he loves your sense of humor. Wonwoo forces a chuckle. “Yeah, yeah, sorry. So, uh. What’s up?”

There’s a beat of silence from you. He can hear your amusement when you echo back his question. “‘What’s up?’”

Soonyoung facepalms. But he’s at least brought Wonwoo’s phone down to an attainable level now, so Wonwoo takes the opportunity to retrieve it.

He immediately presses the button to remove you from the speakerphone and brings the phone to his ear. “Sorry, sorry, I got sidetracked. This is why I send my cryptic texts.” Your laugh on the other end affirms Wonwoo in his defusing of the situation, and so he continues. “When did you say you were heading back home again?”

“Saturday afternoon. Why, what’s up?”

Fuck it, here goes nothing. Wonwoo takes a deep breath. “The reason why I was calling you is because I was wondering if you wanted to go grab something to eat before you leave to celebrate the end of finals but if you aren’t able to that’s okay.”

Wonwoo ignores the way Soonyoung is staring him down with an incredulous look on his face. Wonwoo is pretty sure he’s red in the face right now.

Once again, more silence on your end. Wonwoo thinks maybe the call has disconnected (or maybe you were so offended by his proposal that you hung up), and he’s about to bring the phone away from his face to check his screen when you finally respond.

“That’s the most I’ve heard you say in one go.” Once again, you’re laughing, and Wonwoo’s worries dissipate. He’s still nervous, of course, especially considering you haven’t actually answered to his offering yet, but something about your laidback nature really puts him at ease. It almost makes him think that even if you said no, he’d be okay-

“I’d love to grab food with you. Did you want to do Friday night or Saturday morning?”

What.

Wonwoo’s roommate has since crept closer to him, head leaning in on the other side of the phone to listen in on the conversation. Soonyoung is just as shell-shocked as Wonwoo is when you say yes.

“Mm, uh,” Wonwoo clears his throat, “Friday night works for me. I’ll be free from my last final by then.”

“Sick! Me too. I can’t wait to be free from the grips of biochem after Friday afternoon.” There’s rustling on your end, likely you getting up and moving around. “I have to head back to studying right now, but we can text as it gets closer to figure out specifics?”

“Sure. Sounds good.” Wonwoo’s throat has gone dry.

Soonyoung has decided at this point that his job is done, and he walks away from Wonwoo with a fist pumping in the air as though his favorite soccer team just won the World Cup.

Wonwoo returns his full attention to you. He can hear your grin when you say, “Great. Oh, and Wonwoo?”

He expects there to be a caveat, a “but” at the end of your acceptance. “Hm?”

“You should call me more often.”

[magic-can]

New pinned post time.

First and foremost, I’ve been getting a lot of asks for Palestinian gfms and I want to say that it’s better to DM me directly. (EDIT: I have closed new DMs as I am already communicating with so many people through those and I don’t want to lose track of everyone. Please tag me in a post if you want me to reblog a your campaign if you aren’t already talking with me). While you’re at it, don’t forget your daily click and check out gazafunds (a site of legit fundraisers) if you can, or you can donate an eSim. I will also add fundraiser campaigns to this post at the request of the poster if I can verify them. Free Palestine.

Hyam’s Campaign Fidaa’s Campaign

Farah and Mohammed’s new campaign

Mahmoud’s Campaign Ahlam’s campaign

Karam’s Campaign Wafa’s campaign

The Shehab family’s campaign

Yahya’s campaign Hammad family’s campaign

Sameer’s campaign Omar’s campaign

Mohammed’s campaign Ashraf’s campaign

Hanan’s campaign Kawthar’s campaign

Jalal’s campaign Karim’s campaign

Aseel’s campaign Ghada family’s campaign

The Hassouna Family’s campaign

Muhammed’s campaign Suad’s campaign

Falestine’s campaign

Alanqar family’s campaign

I’m Julia (she/her) I’m 22 years old and like to draw and am learning how to make video games. I actually have OCD and every time you make an annoying joke about it you owe me 5 bucks. I also have autism and ADHD I’m like if the tbh creature was a girl.

I’m mspec but just call me queer thanks. Purely personal preference don’t give me shit about it for the love of god.

I’m also a queer Christian if you have a problem with that just block me. I don’t wanna hear about why I have to “pick one” based on your own shitty experiences.

I like Sonic, Spyro, The Binding of Isaac, Resident Evil (Leon is my wet cat husband), Twenty One Pilots and a lot of other swag things.

I have a Poshmark and a Mercari.

My blog is PG-13 but minors don’t try to directly talk with me I don’t feel comfortable with that.

No DNI because I love the block button she is my wife.

[amyriadfthings]

Did a search for Omar on twitter earlier and set the results to latest and... the amount of times the words terrorist and terrorism appeared and people clearly expressing how not sorry they are and don´t care how anyone is doing... yikes.

I didn't want omar to say anything, he has now become the target. yesterday there was even a threat to the boys and their family. I'm sure if he didn't use it to promote his music, he would have deactivated it.

I’m glad he did. He has probably wanted to drop that truth bomb for quite a while and took the opportunity to do so. Omar is living his best life rn and those pathetic people are below him… he doesn’t need to be on Twitter if he doesn’t want to. He can easily leave it to his management like a lot of other artists do.

[bullet-prooflove]

"It's you and me, now and forever"

It’s you, Omar thinks about when he gets shot in the chest by that college kid. The fact that you have absolutely no idea that he’s in love with you. He lies on his back staring up at a water stained ceiling and prays to Allah that he lives long enough to tell you that, that by some miracle he makes it home tonight. The agony, it stabs through his ribs as his ears ring like crazy. The taste of metal twangs on his tongue and he wonders if he’s drowning, if it’s the taste of his own blood climbing up the back of his throat.

Maggie’s face swings into his vision and there’s a reassurance there, a comfort because if these are his last words, there’s a witness to them.

“Hanna…” He chokes but he can’t seem to catch his breath. “Tell her…”

“You’re ok.” Maggie soothes, her voice filtering back into his ears as her fingers undo the Velcro straps of his vest. He feels the pressure in his chest loosen as she gently removes the Kevlar. “The vest caught it. I promise you’re going to be ok. I just need you to breathe for me.”

He sucks in a breath and then another, the oxygen fills up his lungs as his heart rate begins to even out. It’s the second time he’s been shot this year.

It’s a couple of hours later that he shows up at the Human Trafficking division in Brooklyn. You’re standing in front of a whiteboard in the conference room, setting up for the team briefing tomorrow morning. You like to be prepared, it’s one of the things he loves about you because it means he doesn’t have to worry as much.

You look up when he enters the room, he looks tired, a little dishevelled. His tie is missing, the top two buttons of his white shirt are open, the sleeves rolled up his muscular forearms.

“Omar.” You say softly and before another word can leave your mouth, he kisses you.

That emotion in his chest, it breaks like a wave as his lips brush over yours with a tenderness he reserves only for you.

“You are the light of my life.” He murmurs as he cradles your face between his hands. “It’s you and me, now and forever.”

Love OA? Get added to his tag list!

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[mikeyisbrooklyn]

We’ve got progress, fairies and frogs, and I’m itching to share. (There’s a part 2 here! And a part 3 here!)

Tags: @on-a-lucky-tide @etanesnil @jgvfhl @roachs-pet-roach

Before reading, some notes…

- This is a WIP, so not finished and subject to change, kinda a part one of sorts

- Has only been partially beta-read

- Author is not: British, Russian, a medical professional, or sane; so beware of inaccuracies abound.

- Not quite NSFW (brief reference to sex and blink and you’ll miss it gross-out moment; safe for teens, not for tots)

All that said, enjoy what’s under the cut (or don’t, I’m not your dad).

Why We Can’t Have Nice Things

(working title)

Price groaned gently as he slowly rejoined the land of the living, croaking like a dehydrated frog was caught in his throat. His groan only got deeper as his eyelids creaked open enough to let in the bright overhead lights. A professional even at his lowest, he took no time to run a checklist of his senses in his head.

Sight? Bleary, but he could see the unnecessarily luminous white beams above him.

Touch? Sore, as all hell, even. There wasn’t a single part of his body that didn’t feel a steady throb of ache, but he could tell his head and right leg seemed to have the worst of it.

Smell? An odorous cloud of antiseptic and disinfectant seemed to be ever-present.

With that information alone, even the most daft man could figure out where he was, but the taste of iron lingering under his tongue and the sound of steady beeping sealed the deal. He was in a hospital.

Price cursed to himself internally. He meant to verbalize it but the words he attempted to form came out as further groans.

An almost imperceptible gasp came from Price’s right and he groaned again as he tried and failed to turn. Then, he felt a warm hand grace his cheek—as his brain started twisting back in gear, he could tell there was a considerable amount of bandages covering his face—and saw a figure take up his entire line of sight, forcing his vision to readjust again so soon after barely adjusting to the lights.

As his eyes settled, Price could finally see who was in front of him, as if the hand on his cheek didn’t already tell him all he needed to know. Nik stood over him, whispering sweet assurances in both Russian and English—some amalgamation of “No, don’t move”s and “You’re alright”s and pet names, it all blended together for Price. Price could see a small grin on the Russian’s face with lines across his mug that reflected an endearing relief, but the first thing Price could see in clear, complete detail since opening his eyes was that dogged glimmer of worry.

It made him sick. Literally.

Poor Nikolai, having already pressed the call button for the doctors upon Price’s stirring, now shouted for aid in shock and distress as Price sat up as much as his broken body would allow and spit up bile that couldn’t have more than stomach acid, saliva, and blood in it.

The door of the room opened and quickly nurses and a doctor were upon Price. A half dozen hands checking bandages, assessing vitals, and touching places that made Price groan in what he meant as frustration which only came out as pain. Nik was gently pulled away in the heat of the moment and despite the pilot’s clear desire to cling onto the injured captain like his life depended on it, he allowed himself to be moved to allow the professionals to do their jobs—if only because he knew it was the only way for Price to get better.

After a few minutes—the hectic storm waning as it became clear that Price was not experiencing a life threatening complication—the nurses left, leaving only the two men with the doctor: a short and plump woman with dark skin and curly black hair tied into a bun, with grays streaking from various places.

“Well, it’s good to see you awake, Captain,” she began, looking down at Price, ”I’m Dr. Omar. It’s a pleasure to meet you, though I wish it were under better circumstances.”

Price grunted, and Dr. Omar smiled warmly but with a bit of mirth. “Your injuries shouldn’t affect your speech ability. I suppose you’re just not in a speaking mood.”

“The captain can be man of few words.” Nik chimed in. “Forgive him.”

“No forgiveness necessary, I’m only teasing, Mr. Nikolai.” Her smile had widened.

Nik shook his head returning a smile of his own. “I have already said, Nik is fine, good doctor.”

“I’m flattered to be considered enough of a ‘friend’ to call you that, but I hope you forgive me for maintaining some professionalism, at least for now.”

Price grunted again, this time with more vitriol than before, feeling ignored despite being the one banged up in bed. At the thought, he looked down and couldn’t properly see the damage—being wrapped comfortably tight in blankets—but from what he could see and feel, there were bandages, splints, and gauze littering his body.

Dr. Omar cleared her throat. “Right, well,” she lifted her clipboard to partially cover her face, “you’ve more than a few cuts and bruises, but the worst of it is a concussion and about a half dozen fractures in your right leg.”

“Should see the other guy.” Price groaned, his voice still thick with disuse. Despite his attempt at humor, Price internally kicked himself as he remembered what really happened.

In truth, it was out of Price’s hands when the informant stabbed them in the back to the kingpin they were hunting, but he still blames himself for the op going tits up. Mostly because what was in his hands was his call to try and finish the mission anyway—an effort at salvaging the unsalvageable. It was only after Gaz took lead to the shoulder that Price realized his stubborn tenacity might get his team killed. But in the retreat, he must’ve stepped right into the bastard’s trap without noticing. If it weren’t for Soap calling out the ticking explosive—thanks to the sergeant’s keen awareness of all things demolition—he likely would’ve been blown to smithereens rather than crushed in rubble. A holy man would remark their survival a miracle, but Price was no holy man; all he figured was that his team kept themselves and him alive, despite his frustrating sudden ineptitude.

Nik’s bark of laughter took Price from his thoughts. “Da! The captain is hard to kill.”

“I’m happy to hear that you've got the mind to joke. Based on what your lieutenant told me, it was quite the close call.” Dr. Omar locked eyes with Price. “But I imagine you’re gonna want the prognosis unless you have any more jokes?”

“As much as I’d love to try out my stand up routine, doc, what I want more is to know when I can get out of this bed.”

“Well, this bed? If you’re insistent on spending most of your recovery at home, just a bit of observation and you can be out of here by tomorrow.”

Price’s lips twitched into a near-frown at “recovery” and lifted a single eyebrow.

Dr. Omar sighed and gave a smile full of more pity than warmth. This look also made Price sick, though he kept down the threatening bile. “You’re primarily on bed rest for a week or two, with crutches or a wheelchair to help you get around if you must. After that 4-8 weeks of physical therapy and continued rest. In short,” she sighed again, knowing the weight of her words, “I’ll be recommending you be put on medical leave for at minimum two months.”

“At minimum?” Price winced as he felt a headache coming on, compounding his concussion. Nik, who had moved closer to the bedridden man, quietly snuck his hand into Price’s grasp and gripped firm but carefully. At his touch, Price huffed from his nose—like a bull.

“It could be longer if you don’t rest and rest well, Captain.” Dr. Omar kept her attitude polite but her tone was assertive. “If you’ve been doing this long enough to earn your rank, then I think it’s safe to assume you’re smart enough to know I’m not wrong.”

Price groaned and looked away, wanting nothing more than to argue but begrudgingly agreeing with her assessment. If it were Simon, Kyle, or Soap he’d have leveled them with a single gaze and made sure they stayed on their ass as long as the docs demanded. Fucking hypocrite he was.

Dr. Omar’s lips tightened like she was about to press him further. Nik spoke up instead. “Da, your expertise is welcome and cherished, good doctor. Instead of tomorrow, could I bring Captain Price home by tonight? He will get better rest in a familiar bed.”

Price looked up at Nik who spared him a brief glance with a wink before returning his gaze back to the doctor. Dr. Omar herself looked between the both of them twice and then three times before sighing heavily but with a more amiable smile.

“I suppose I can see what I can do but no promises, Mr. Nikolai! We need to make sure there won’t be any surprises or complications while we still have him.” She pointed at the Russian accusatorially.

“Da! Da! I understand.”

Dr. Omar smiled as she lowered her hand. “Alright, well, I’ll leave you alone if you don’t have any other questions.”

Price looked back at the doctor finally with a blank expression though with a nod of gratitude.

“Thank you, good doctor, we will call again if needed.”

“Please do.” She patted the end of Price’s bed, eliciting a grunt from the man and then she left the room.

Nik dragged a chair back to the side of Price’s bed and tightened his grip on the hand he was still holding. “You are terrible patient, Jonathan.” He chided with a shit-eating grin.

“Bugger off.” Price shifted his face away from Nik, not being able to move much.

Nik chuckled and kissed the man on the cheek, enjoying the way Price’s face turned bright red. “I hope you are better to me.”

It took a moment for that to sit with Price before he turned slowly back towards Nik. “You wot?”

“Oh, you did not think I meant I would take you back to your own bed, did you, Captain? When mine is much better?”

“Oh, bloody—are ya gonna try and fuck me while I’m crippled? Filthy bastard.”

Nik’s grin turned wolfish. “If you would like. Though, I only meant that I would not let you out of my sight while you heal.”

Price’s face got hot again but worse, his gut churned with a wave of nausea that he barely held down. “I’m not a boy needing supervision, muppet.” He grumbled the last bit.

“Nyet, you are very much no boy.” Nik damn near purred. “But can I not take care of you, even after such an injury?”

Price grunted and turned away but made no effort to move and even returned the briefly tightened grip on his hand Nik still had—an implicit surrender, at least for now. Price knew he was in no state to turn Nik down, especially as his options were the Russian or the hospital. At least with Nik he’d stay somewhere with some damn eye candy and that didn’t reek of sick and despair.

Maybe, just maybe, he could trick himself into have a nice leave. Price laughed at the absurdity of the thought.

[mintycurry]

"Button up your shirt to look more reliable" is so ironic if we consider the fact that we just got shirtless Omar at the Oscars 💀