#the man looks painfully good in a tshirt

[the-eyes-of-andyserkis]

[jeon-ify]

- 𝘫𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘩𝘰 - 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 ! ⋆·˚ ༘ *

synopsis: in which the way you look after showering gets your husband worked up.

genre: romance, smut, 18+. mdni.

warnings: dilf yunho!!!!!! yunho is in his late 30s-early 40s here, nudity implied, kitchen sex, swearing, breast play, making out, female reader, big!dick yunho, hand kink, finger sucking (yunho AND reader!!) tit sucking, cervix fucking, choking kink, breeding kink, if i missed anything let me know ! :3

song for the chapter : into it - chase atlantic

happy reading !

the coconut and lime scent of your conditioner floods the first floor of your home, sending your husband into a faint distraction. the scent runs up his nostrils, up to his brain, and straight down his cock. the music you’re playing blares through your phone in the shower, your husband hearing it through to the second floor.

“I BEEN CATCHIN’ PLANES FOR THE FUN OF IT,”

you sing out extra loud, your husband pausing his speech to apologize for the background noise.

you took an everything shower today, so you already made dinner before showering— considering you’d be exhausted.

somehow, yunho put the pieces together, finishing dinner and making it the right way. you didn’t expect yunho to be so generous tonight— but here you are, standing over the stove and nibbling little pieces of the food while you waited for yunho to finish from a call he was wrapped up in.

you looked around the kitchen out of boredom, looking for things to do before you dived into the food. the way yunho’s shirt sat so pretty onto your body, riding up your thighs as your pink panties peak through the ends of the tee made your man so painfully distracted— holding himself back from fucking you over the piping hot stove.

yunho watched how the ends of your hair weren’t fully dried and how it dripped onto the back of your calves, dripping down your shiny legs. he also watched how your— his— tshirt rode up your legs anytime you reached up somewhere or bent to get something. his eyes did not leave your body.

you were still stood over the stovetop, taking little bites of the greens. you moan in how good the food is, a blend of paprika and garlic seasoning, along with the sweetness of the teriyaki sauce that yunho drizzled everywhere.

but even through the layers of seasonings he put into the food, your scent still broke through it all.

“yeah, sounds good. i’ll put in the CRA request like we mentioned previously, and i’ll email you the forums. just let me know when you need it. was there anything else i could assist you with today, mr. song?” the man on the computer responds and the call comes to an end.

you stare at how attractive he is when he’s working— all the business talk that made no fucking sense to you, but he understands it like his own language, and that in itself makes you weak.

“doll, what do you have on? it smells good.” he finally decides to speak after what felt like hours of him admiring from behind his computer screen.

a much older man admiring your hygiene is something you never thought you’d see, but yunho was drooling on the laptop beneath his fingertips.

“it’s your favorite lotion,” you look up at him through damp eyelashes and flushed cheeks, watching how his nostrils flare with every breath he takes.

it takes yunho everything in his body to not pick you up and throw you over the counter and pound a baby into your small belly. he’s much older than you are, but when he met you, he knew you’d be his companion.

“yu, this smells really yummy. you did a great job, baby.” you walk over to yunho on the other end of the table, wrapping your arms around his shoulders from behind him. he holds onto your hands and throws his head back onto your stomach, looking up at you.

“sweets, the last thing on my mind is dinner. let me taste you, little girl,” his soft and mature voice makes your legs quiver with excitement as yunho takes your hands in his, bringing your middle and ring finger to his mouth, sucking on the digits. you gasp in response, watching how desperate the middle aged man underneath your touch grows weak at your feet.

“i can never get enough of you. wanna fuck you all day.” he stands up to face you, bringing his lips to yours. he sucks and nibs at your bottom lip to gain quicker access to explore the rest of your mouth. you deepen the kiss, the faint taste of cigarettes cloud your small mouth, making you whimper in desperation. he slides a hand between your thighs, thumb rubbing against your clit. you’re not sure if your juices make a patch on your panties or if its from your shower. nonetheless, you are so fucking turned on right now that the last thing on your mind is dinner.

“what have you done to me, pretty girl?” he feels as though you’ve casted a spell on him. everything you do makes him feral; weak in the knees. but somehow, you make him a man.

“i’m just here, yunho. don’t give me all the credit,” you gasp at the feeling of his long fingers pushing into your tight wet cunt. he gasps in sarcasm, exploring your face as he uses your cunt to soak his fingers— bringing them up to your mouth.

you feel his fingers curl into a ‘come here’ motion, your breath hitching as he pushes against your walls. your eyes roll, grasping his forearm as he speeds up his motions. you cry out and beg for him to slow down, but he doesn’t listen.

“so pretty. look at these lips, let me kiss them.” he brings his lips to yours in an open mouthed makeout, gasping for air as he pulls away with a deep-dimpled smirk. your pussy convulses around his long fingers, as your husband groans in response.

your thighs clamp shut in an attempt to calm yourself down from how aggressively his fingers ruthlessly ravish your cunt. yunho, reaching your cervix from how long his fingers are, takes in a deep breath at how fast he’s been moving. “yu- ohh— fuck! please— i’m cumming, please i’m gonna cum!” you chant begs along with his name as if it were a mantra, feeling the way his hard cock presses into your backside.

“yeah, feels good, doesn’t it, baby? now let me feel you cum on my cock.” he brings his fingers up to his mouth, sucking himself dry of your juices. you whimper in need of him inside of you. he lines himself up with your entrance as you’re bent over the counter across from the stove.

he pushes into your soaked pussy deeper, feeling his dick throb ruthlessly inside of you already. lucky for him, he was able to hold himself for almost half an hour on end while he fucks you.

“s-sir, it’s so big! i don’t think i can take y-“ you pull away from his length, feeling like you’re being ripped in half by what feels like 12 inches. he runs his hand along your back from underneath the t-shirt, in an attempt to calm you down and keep you around him.

“tiny girl, you can take me. you’ve let me fuck my cum into you hundreds of times. what’s changed, dollface?” he almost makes you cum from his voice in itself, but you decide to push back while he stays still, waiting for you to adjust to his size for what feels like the millionth time throughout your relationship.

he begins pounding into you at a quicker pace, pulling and tugging at your bare nipples from underneath you. your mouth hangs open as yunho brings his large hand to your throat to wrap itself around it. you grit through your teeth, wishing you could just cum.

you don’t feel like you want to cum, you feel like you’re going to squirt all over his body. “talk to me, baby. what’s it feel like?”

he’s being so fucking annoying and making you focus on anything else other than your orgasm, but you only moan and cry in response.

“i— ‘s too much.” whimpering and shaking in a headlock, you grasp onto yunho’s arm to get a breath of air. from the way his muscular arm wraps itself around your throat makes you cum over, and over already.

yunho gets another quick scent of your lotion and conditioner, making his cock twitch in your cervix.

“i’m almost done baby, give me another one— fuck, you smell so good. the fuck are you doing to me, baby?”

he pounds into you again, harder this time— tugging at your panties to pull you back onto his hips, planting himself deeper in you.

“nngh, oh my god!”

“oh, but i’m the one making you cry like this. give it to me, fucking milk me dry. gonna spill all my cum into your tiny stomach. let me give you my babies, hm? how’s that sound?”

he bends over so his chest is against your back as he nips at your ear. his tongue licks up your tears, planting a kiss on the end of your right eyebrow. his thrusts slow down as he holds you in place to shoot his load right into your baby maker.

“oh my— fuck! yes, so good!”

you cry out in relief that you finally got to spill out your cum onto yunho’s still cock. he lands a sharp slap on your ass before pulling you back up and planting a kiss on your forehead.

“so pretty when you cry for me. should keep a picture in my wallet.”

yunho gets down on his knees before you, licking up your thighs where your juices dried. your fingers run through his pretty softly gelled black hair.

he licks up all of your juices near your heat, using his fingers to push back the cum that threatens to drip from your pussy. your eyes roll to the back of your head as yunho places a kiss on your lower stomach, traveling up beneath your shirt to suck a generous amount of skin on your tit.

“yun— you’re sucking too hard, fuck!” he sucks and bites your nipples as if you were his lifeline,

he slaps the area he sucked on, making you gasp out in surprise. “keep my cum in you until after dinner, i’ll fuck more into you.”

so you sat at the other end of the table with your thighs clenching and unable to think about anything other than your husband pounding a shit ton of babies into you.

————————

🌷🤍🎀

well? dilfyunho anyone?????

[beenbaanbuun]

brainless w/ song mingi

everything seems like a lot. sure, it was your idea to come to the mall in the first place, hoping the dizzying array of stimulants would keep your mind away from the tangled up we’d of thoughts within it, but now you just regret it. now you’re just looking for anything else to cling onto; you guess you’re looking for stability more than anything. it’s a good thing you brought your boyfriend with you.

your fingers loosen from the flimsy fabric of the dress you’d taken a shine to, dropping it miserably before turning around to face mingi. his zoned out eyes focus on the the moment your stoic face comes into his line of vision, and without so much of a moments hesitation, he turns his phone off and slips it into his pocket. he might be a little dopey with more than a few things, but making you feel seen isn’t one of them.

“what’s up, princess?” he smiles down at you, his eyes crinkling up as he smiles softly at you. it relaxes you every so slightly, but not enough to completely block out the incessant chatter from every angle, or the fluorescents that burn your retinas painfully. you sigh and take a pathetic step towards him. he wastes no time in opening his arms to invite you into his hold, and for some reason it makes your throat tighten.

“i feel bad,” you admit as you close the gap and dive into his warmth. you can feel his body heat through his thin tshirt, and even in the sweltering heat that has your clothes sticking to you uncomfortably, you can’t help but lean into the familiarity it gives you. as your nose nuzzles into the black fabric, a hand comes up to cup the back of your skull. you swallow thickly to quell the tears that threaten to spill.

now isn’t the time for that.

there’s a rumble in his chest as he hums contemplatively. it’s deep and gravelly, yet somehow still filled with a softness that you’ve come to associate with only your boyfriend. it’s like the soft curl of cigarette smoke, except without the pungent odour. the velvety texture of flower petals, without the threat of the thorny stems. the gentle lap of the ocean against the shore, without the threat of the undercurrent to drag you to your doom. in life, most beautiful things only exist to distract from danger, but not your mingi.

“what kind of bad?” he murmurs, minty cold breath brushing against your face in a way that has you relaxing further into his touch. you always have loved the smell of that menthol gum he chews; he claims it stops ‘the cravings’, although for what, you’re not sure. the poor man had coughed for minutes the last time he’d taken a drunken drag from his friends cigarette. “is it ‘hide from the world’ kind of bad?” yes, you think to yourself, that one. the type of bad that leads you to curling up under your bedsheets for hours on end, eating snacks depressedly from mingi’s fingers. you almost nod, but you sense he has more to say. you hang back, staring up at him as he wets his lips with a single swipe of his pink tongue. “or is it ‘let your mingi take care of you’ kind of bad?”

oh.

you seem to melt further into his touch at the mere mention of ‘letting your mingi take care of you’. it’s code for something much deeper; a ritual that only you and mingi know of. it’s sacred to your relationship, it has been from the moment the two of you stumbled across the nature of said ritual.

yes, you change your mind, you want that one.

and so you nod helplessly against his chest, eyes widening and going ever so slightly glassy at the mere thought of letting your mingi take care of you. you almost miss the way the corner of his mouth tilts up into a small smile, too focussed on watching the way his eyes glimmer with excitement. it’s as if he enjoys it as much as you do, in fact you’re almost sure he enjoys it more. something about this whole thing just seems to stroke that huge ego that seems to come hand in hand with having a cock. if you weren’t so desperate for him to turn that ego on you now, perhaps you’d roll your eyes and scoff at him.

“no good, princess,” he purrs, pulling the hand from the back of your head around to rest on your cheek. his thumb comes to rest on your lips, tugging at your lips to smear your lipgloss outside the lines you yourself had drawn on with your trusty lipliner. a quick glance around was enough to tell mingi that the coast was clear, or at least for long enough for him to dip the tip of his thumb into the warm confines of your achingly empty maw. it tugs at your bottom lip softly before pulling itself free with a gentle pop. he taps it once, twice against your mouth before pulling his hand away entirely. “i need your words, don’t i?”

the keen that his question pulls from your throat has him chuckling lowly. you watch as his cheek distends, giving way to the tongue that cockily probes the inside of it. he knows the effect it has on you, having watched you melt from just his egotistical gestures plenty of times in the past. as your eyes glaze over a little, it seems to have worked yet again.

“mingi,” you whine, voicing echoing through your mind as though it belongs to someone else entirely. you seem to have slipped quicker than usual into that familiar headspace that soothed you so much, which would’ve had you curious had your thoughts been anywhere other than the man in front of you. it’s not all gone just yet, but you can feel the remnants of your braincells slipping further and further out of your grasp by the second. you take in a shudders breath, “please mingi… take care of me?”

and how could he say no to that? he can practically see each thought slip from you one by one as your mind shrinks to nothing. he can see your tunnel vision forming around him, and your tongue get too heavy to speak any word other than his name. it’s such a beautiful sight, tugging at his heartstring each and every time he watches it happen. his pretty darling, brainless and his.

“of course, baby,” he ghosts a hand over your hair, giggling as you lean into his touch. even in public, you’re so shamelessly needy for him. it’s adorable, really, the way you so easily fold for him. he gives in, probably easier than he normally would, a single finger running along your cheekbone to gather hair to place behind your ear.

you purr up at him, and he matches it with a low, throaty hum of his own. “collar,” you manage to say through your haze, watery eyes looking up at him expectantly.

“when we get home,” he replies. it breaks his heart to see the pout of your lips, but creative problems require creative solutions. if you couldn’t have your collar just yet, he’s give you something else to ground you.

with one hand still playing with your hair, he lifts the other to his mouth, parting his lips just enough for his teeth to show. the hook over the heavy ring on his index finger, tugging on the jewelled metal until it rolls off the digit and onto his tongue. he appreciates the weight of it for just a second before once more scanning the shop floor for any potential voyeurs. no one, he gleefully notes before leaning down to your height and pressing his lips against yours in a soft kiss.

mere moments pass before you feel the cold touch of metal against your lips, and you open your mouth just enough for his tongue to force the through the gap provided by you. it drops weightily onto your awaiting muscle, pinning it heavily to the bottom of your mouth. it feels like lead against it, and you can’t lie and say that you’re not happy with the way it feels.

mingi pulls away slowly, eyes fluttering open to meet your own, hazy and completely thoughtless, just like you’d wanted. his gaze flickers quickly to your throat, watching the way moves as you swallow, before moving immediately back to your face. he admires the way your jaw moves as you fiddle with the ring in your mouth, watching in real time as the tense muscles in your face relax completely. he’s glad to see you happy, he muses to himself as he takes a step away from you and grabs your hand.

he can’t wait until he’s home and he can help you so much more…

[dmitriene]

THOUGHTS ABOUT LEON WITH FEMENINE GF.

cw: tooth rotting fluff, comfort, smut, retired leon, domesticity, cunnilingus, lack of dialogues pairing: bf leon kennedy x gf fem reader

 ✎ 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵. 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘴. 𝘢𝘰3. ˑ༄

leon had always been a man of action, a typical hero in a world shrouded in viscous darkness, full of horrors, but now, in the quiet embrace of a relatively suburban home, he had found a life in which there would be no zombies or bioweapons, it was a step into a life that revolved around only gentle domestic rhythms, where his retirement did not mean inactivity, but rather a different kind of activity, one that is completely dedicated to you.

the soft hum of the coffee machine echoed through the spacious, bright kitchen, bathed in the warm glow of the morning sunlight, while leon stood in the aisle, dressed in a slightly rumpled plain tshirt and sweatpants, his usually even mop of hair now disheveled, sticking out from side to side like branches in a nest, but it wasn’t the aroma of coffee or the cozy kitchen that he was more than familiar with that attracted his attention, — it was you.

you, being his girlfriend, moved gracefully and quite airily around the kitchen, moving through the space as easily as if it were a dance floor, your laughter rang like bells, caressing his ears, and this sound became the sweetest melody in leon’s life after he went out on retirement, when you smoothly turn in his direction with a mischievous smile, a freshly baked tray of cupcakes in your hands, the corners of your lips curved into the sweetest greeting.

— «good morning, lee!» you greet, walking up to him with the scraping of slippers on the parquet floor and standing up on your toes to kiss him on the cheek, he is instantly enveloped by a tickling, light aroma of vanilla and warmth, an aroma that has become synonymous with the comfort of your presence next to him.

— «good morning, sweetie» leon responds with a baritone languid from sleep, and his gaze softens as he looks at you, there was a certain lightness in his baby blues, a satisfaction that usually speaks of a life well lived, the wrinkles on his slightly pinkish, after a kiss, face, that have accumulated over the years years of persistent and diligent service as an agent seemed to disappear as soon as he looked at you.

sitting in a cozy breakfast nook, usually decorated with a vase of flowers, which leon tries to replace as soon as the old ones wither, with cute knitted placemats under cute, flower painted plates and mugs that add tenderness, you enjoyed the silence of the morning with muffins and coffee.

leon was more than once surprised by the contrast — his past, slowly disappearing between his fingers like sand, full of chaos and dangers, and now this calm home life with you, in which he found solace in everyday life, in the mundane things about which you chatted and your voice was a ringing babble resounded from the kitchen and through the windows, in a softness that enveloped him immediately as soon as he was near, gentle interior design, soft, not too colorful colors, the things he shared with you and thanks to you.

from time to time you walked around the city, be it just a walk or for groceries, leon loved to spend maximum of his free time with you — he always, like a chivalrous gentleman, opened the car door for you, a small but painfully important gesture that made you smile softly and bubble a pleasant warmth in his chest, and on the streets, which were full of the hustle and bustle of everyday life, following the click of small heels on your new, cute shoes, his attention was focused exclusively on you, while you, in turn, looked at the shops located on both sides with burning eyes.

while you are walking together, a warm hand slides to your lower back, fingers draw graceful patterns on the fabric of your airy dress, neutral color, carefully emphasizing your body shape with its cut and cute elements, be it ruffles or bows, creating a delicate, fragile external visual that makes leon’s eyes squint when he looks at you, his love opens up just like a flower, a connection that transcends the need for loud gestures, and is noticeable precisely in the subtleties — shared glances, laughter, even.

while you explore the endless number of shops on the horizon, buying the necessary things for the home, kitchen towels, some charming boxes for sorting food and things, squinting and comparing one thing with another, trying to understand which is better before you take two, leon's keen, still squinting gaze scans the surroundings — a reminder of his days as an agent, he could not get rid of the instincts honed in the line of duty, but now those protective, obsessive glances were riveted on you while his thick, broad hand found yours, fingers gently intertwined with yours, silently promising to be there, when you contentedly, almost purring, leaned on his hand, walking in step.

you was spending most of your days together in quiet communication, be it watching a movie, cooking together, or just your babbling about some stories from the past to which he joined, pressing your tender body into his, hard, slightly limp over the years, intertwining his fingers with the strands your hair, running along the edges of some sophisticated hairpins, one of those that you often choose together, allowing leon to enjoy the simple joys of everyday life.

one lazy sunday afternoon, the two of you found yourself in the backyard of the house, basking in the smoldering rays of the sun, a light breeze playing with the strands of your hair as you lay in a hammock chair with a book in your hand, cheerfully flipping through the pages every time your eyes reached the end of a chapter, with a slight movement of your fingers, scrolling further, while leon, pleased with the way you were reading, sat next to you with a satisfied smile on his face.

— «i still can't quite believe i can spend my days peacefully like this» leon thought out loud and completely without reason, looking intently at you with tenderness seeping in his eyes.

you looked up from the book, a playful sparkle appeared in your eyes, and much more undisguised affection, answering him loudly velvetly, caressing his ears as if scratching under the chin, riveting his attention to you with his half tilted head — «well, you're a hero who deserves happily ever after, aren't you?» a playful remark as you tap your nails on the cover of the book, folding it into your lap.

he just grins, the sound turning into a harmonious melody following the rustle of the wind as the sun slowly sinks below the horizon, turning the sky pastel pinks and oranges as he joins you, not on the hammock, but between your legs, letting his knees press into the grass when he strokes your legs from toes to knees, velvety, plush skin without the barrier of shoes during a moment of relaxation, lifting up to round thighs and leading along the edges of another charming dress, while he says almost purring, a deep baritone bubbling from the very chest as he presses against your naked flesh — «i think so, especially when you're around me, darling»

you giggle, bury your fingers in his soft strands, running them over and squeezing until the slightly grown stubble lightly scratches and tickles the skin of your legs, he covers it with kisses, warm and short, forcing you to put the book completely down from your lap while he moves a little higher, forcing the hem of your dress to hide him more and more, and you sigh slightly raggedly, embarrassedly when he kisses the inside of your thigh, and you mutter, biting your glossy lips — «what are you intending to do, leon?»

he tilts his head as if innocently, smiling like a cheshire cat and wetting his lips with his tongue, rubbing and warming your thighs with the pads of his thumbs, while he himself crawled a little higher, before his warm breath slightly covers the cotton of your panties, and his face rests against your clothed pussy, bumping his nose and pressing his tongue flatly on your centre, one movement is enough to set your nerves on fire, and the fabric gets slightly wet from the slick that dribbles out, as he purrs contentedly, another sound rumbling deep within his chest — «to take my happily ever after, sweetheart, so sit pretty still f'me, mhm?»

next thing, leon's fingers dig into your thighs, spreading them apart as he begins to caress your drenched heat through the fabric of your panties.

his tongue presses flatly against your swollen clit, tracing maddening circles that send tremors running throughout your entire body, and the cotton between you and his skillful mouth does little to soften the sensations, but only increases friction on the clit swollen from arousal and heat.

with every flick of his tongue you grip his thick, slightly coarse hair tighter, a silent plea for more and leon literally growls into your cotton covered cunt in response to the grip in his hair, the vibrations causing a shiver of pleasure to run down your spine, allowing you voluntarily arch your wetness into his mouth, fluttering your eyelashes and watching his head slowly move with every lick and stroke.

he's relentless, his tongue working with a fervor matched only by the burning desire in his baby blue eyes, the taste of your slick arousal filling his mouth, fueling his desire to please you and causing him to push you closer to the edge.

as the fabric of your panties becomes wet from the mixture of his saliva and your slick, and your moans become louder, turning into an incoherent babble of — «yesyesyes, don't stop, lee, just like that — here! yes! yessmngh!» leon feels you pulsate more actively and your hole clenching around nothing, the grip on your hips intensifies, his fingers dig into your flesh before sliding up, teasing the edges of your soft underwear.

long, neat fingers push your wet panties to the side, exposing your shiny, swollen folds to his hungry gaze, and he wastes no time, his tongue immediately diving into your wet cunt with a hunger bordering on savage.

his sweeping movements from your clenching hole to your trembling clit cause waves of pleasure to run through your body, the laps of his mouth on your sensitive mound causes a mixture of moans and sobs from your trembling lips, your embarrassment that someone can hear this is drowned out by the all consuming ecstasy, deafening ears.

— «that's it, so pretty, so sweet» leon's purr vibrates against your smooth skin, a deep hum of satisfaction as he savors the taste of your arousal, he feasts on you with an insatiable appetite, his tongue mercilessly attacking your throbbing core.

your body reacts instinctively, a stream of sweet juices gushing from inside you, giving away just how high your arousal is, the sound of your wetness mixing with lewd slurping sounds as leon continues to devour you sloppily, his actions relentless and focused solely on bringing you to the top of pleasure and more, beyond.

with every movement, sucking and lapping he brings you closer to the edge, your moans become stronger, louder, less controlled even as you bite your swollen, bitten lips, the sensations overwhelm your senses, blurring the line between pleasure and the pain of sensitivity as your body shudders, teetering on the brink of stunning liberation, very close.

delving deeper, his tongue plunging into your clenching hole with unrelenting eagernessc and ease, he skillfully flicks and teases your folds, alternately sucking on your twitching clit and penetrating you with his skilled tongue.

his plump lips and chin are slick with a mixture of your arousal and his saliva, evidence of his hunger and sloppiness, he watches you carefully as you throw your head back, your body shudders and arches in pleasure, and baby blue eyes closely watch every goosebump on your skin with dilated pupils.

as soon as you reach the brim, tight coil of ecstasy finally snaps and your vision suddenly goes dark as your eyes roll back, your orgasm washes over you like a tidal wave, your moans turn into guttural screams, free when you release them, your cum fills leon's mouth and he hungrily drinks every drop, savoring the taste of your release on his tongue, slurping greedily and purely animalictically.

his movements don't falter as he continues to caress your sensitive, stimulated clit, prolonging your pleasure as aftershocks ripple through your body, the intensity of the moment rough, reeking of lust, yet unbearably tender, as are the movements of his fingers, drawing soothing circles on your thighs.

you are lost in a haze of ecstasy, your body shaking from the force of your release, but he remains steadfast, his focus unwavering as he makes sure every drop of pleasure is extracted from your trembling body completely as you slowly come to your senses, and there is a tension growing between his legs, but he will deal with it later, now he watched how charmingly your absolutely sopping folds trembled and pretty tight hole, relaxed after his tongue, clenched around nothing, rising his gaze further, to your heaving chest, still feeling the weight of your fingers in his hair.

he kisses your legs with a slow movement of his lips, descending from your thigh to your knee, drawing along the way transparent stripes from your slick on his lips, but in his opinion you look even more beautiful this way, completely dazed and drunk on pleasure, limp on soft pillows, listening to his rough, peaceful purring — «so pretty, my beautiful darling» which vibrate through the skin, preventing the butterflies in your stomach from calming down.

[ninyard]

whenever you have a moment for some oc yappery i'd love to hear more abt Paris

you asked for it here's paris (ilovehimilovehimilovehim)

-- paris antonis

-- 25

-- backliner on the same team as lilya, also hoping to get signed for the us court but keeps getting that disappointing phone call that says not this year

— transferred from edgar allan to usc after his first year

Paris. 6'2, he's got big arms and a bigger heart. his hair is buzzed, he has more tattoos than he can count, and always has something in his anxious hands. he’s a seriously empathetic person - if you’re upset, there’s a good chance he’ll end up crying with you. he’s sensitive, a little bit paranoid, and he probably doesn’t trust you.

Paris was scouted for the Ravens from his high school team - he played exy from pretty much the time he could walk. star player, captain of the team, with his recognisable smile and even more recognisable laugh, he was offered a position on the raven lineup, and of COURSE he was going to take it. his wardrobe got darker, more and more people clapping hands on his back saying congratulations, man. they’re the best of the best. you’ll fit right in.

he remembers clearly the last time he saw most people from his hometown - his best friend clare, who pulled at the collar of his black tshirt and asked if this was the new normal. his coach, who shook his hand and wished him luck, not after showing him the picture of him they were printing out to put in the halls of his high school. his little brother jonas, who made him promise to call. who made him promise to send letters and postcards. his older sister sasha, who promised him she’d watch every game. his mom who cried as she watched him leave. his dad who finally told him he was proud of him.

the last time paris smiled in edgar allan was in the minutes where he waited to be escorted to the nest by a raven. paris stood up to shake the girls hand, who only looked at his outstretched palm and told him to follow her.

the next few months were the worst months of his life. he met lilya, who seemed to fit in already, even though she arrived the day before he did. they were partners from the beginning. paris learned the rules of the nest very quickly, and very painfully.

he cried for his mom at the end of his first week. he stopped crying after a month.

there was not a part of him that didn’t change. he became a robot, a shell of himself, a machine that only cared about exy, that lived and breathed edgar allan. happy, smiley paris became this shadow of himself. he forgets what his own voice sounds like when he’s not scared, or tired. he wakes up afraid most of the time.

paris has a scar on his bicep that stretches from just below his arm pit to just above his elbow from some hazing ritual in his second month in EAU. he’s really self conscious about it, because it healed in a messy jagged line - every time he thought it had healed he’d be back on the court and it’d just split back open again. it was the first thing he covered up when he started getting tattoos the summer that he left the nest.

his story goes a little like this then, afterwards; he called his mom the night that he left. while he took a cab as far away as he could, she bought him a plane ticket home.

he didn’t last long back in his hometown.

he couldn’t speak to his family, their pleas for him to talk to them quietly ignored with a shake of his head. his dad noticed the scar across his cheek first, from Paris’ first fight, and his sister was the first to see the awful scar on the back of his calf from where a helmet had been thrown at him and broken skin so badly it needed stitches. his little brother touched the scar on his arm and asked what happened. Paris bought his ticket to California that night, when he’d only been home for a week.

he realised something about himself had well and truly fundamentally changed when he smiled a couple of months into training and adjusting to life at usc; he was having lunch with his teammates, and a joke was said, and he smiled. unintentional, but newly unnatural. a first year goalkeeper nudged him and said, “i think that’s the first time i’ve seen a real smile on your face you since you got here.”

popular, happy, sportsmanship awarding winning Paris, Paris with the pretty smile, Paris with the laugh that you’d recognise from a mile away. Paris who graduated high school as the most likely to become a comedian, most likely to make you laugh, his peers parents’ favourite friend. clare used to tell him off for making her smile when she was down - now? now his own smile no longer reached his eyes, the impulse to laugh buried beneath a single year worth of beatings and suppression. now his teammates were only noticing his first smile, three months into his time at USC.

Paris is paranoid, Paris has to read over documents a hundred times to make sure the terms are okay, Paris doesn’t trust people anymore. he used to be known for being that guy who would tell his friends to give someone the benefit of the doubt, to give someone a chance, to not judge a book by its cover. now he feels like he's skeptical of everyone he meets.

he’s afraid of someone knowing his secrets, he’s afraid of spilling secrets. he never got back into contact with his family once he left for california, except for the odd “im alive” text he sends to his sister once every couple of months. maybe sometime in the future, when he feels like himself again, he'd reach out and make amends, but he can’t let them see him like this. he can’t bear to have his mother look at him the way she did when he first came home. like she doesn’t recognise her own son anymore, like she’s raised this sweet boy and he’s turned himself into a soulless monster.

Paris doesn’t really label his sexuality, but he feels like queer fits him best.

things change for him eventually. he starts to feel like himself again. he smiles more, letting people in, and sometime by the end of his third year he’s heard his true laugh again. it takes him a long time to heal from that year in Edgar Allan, but it’s a slow and painful process, and a very lonely one. but he gets there eventually, with people by his side pushing him forward every step of the way.

there's some more stuff about paris here and here and under my ocs tag but if i dont stop i'll just keep talking about him forever <3

[walviemort]

true love grows

[A/N: just a brief little idea for Captain Charming Friday I had that @sancocnutclub made me run with. enjoy!]

Emma and Killian had always known parenthood would be an adventure. They just hadn’t expected it to go this way once they were, well, expecting. Even several months later, Emma laughed to think of that conversation with her mom that was just the start of their world turning on its head.

They’d met for lunch and been discussing their hopes of adding to their families—though in very little detail, for Emma’s sake.

“I’m a little nervous to be pregnant again,” she’d admitted. “But I know it’ll be worth it.”

“Well, there’s always the chance it’s not you,” Snow offered in a helpful tone, but it just left Emma confused.

“Uh, why wouldn’t it be me?” she asked. “Who else would it be?”

“Oh no—you don’t know,” Snow said, aghast.

“Know what?”

“When you have True Love, it’s pure chance whether the man or woman carries the baby. Literally 50-50 odds. It’s just luck that I had both you and Neal.” Then she tilted her head, confused. “I thought Killian would have told you that?”

“He would have if he knew, so I’m assuming he doesn’t,” Emma replied. “Oh—oh crap. And he’s been fighting a stomach bug lately.”

Snow just raised her eyebrows, curious.

And now, 30-some weeks later, Killian was the one on the cusp of delivering their baby (a girl!) into the world. He’d been just as shocked as she was at the revelation, having been previously ignorant of that bit of lore, but once he’d accepted it, it had been smooth sailing—though he groaned each day at the increasing size of his waistline as their baby grew. 

To add to the joy (or chaos), it turned out that David was also expecting; Emma’s new little sister was due just a couple weeks later. He’d had a few more gripes than Killian but was otherwise taking it well. 

Killian had confessed to her around the start of the third trimester that he was glad David had ended up pregnant, too; it made him feel less odd, even if their neighbors didn’t find it out of the ordinary, and he appreciated being able to share the experience with his best friend. 

The guys were constantly swapping stories and advice, while also not-so-subtly competing with each other—first to see who lasted longer in their regular clothes (David, ever the fan of forgiving cotton knits), then to see who would end up with the biggest bump (Killian, who carried it all out front). They also had each other to commiserate with when the babies wouldn’t stop kicking them at all hours of the night, or when their cravings got weird, or when they got a glance of their stretch marks in the mirror.

Killian was always a step ahead of David, though, which was good for the prince as a preview of what was to come, but meant that Killian was on his own for a few things—most dramatically, being the first to wear maternity jeans and a belly band, but most painfully, Braxton-Hicks and the day his belly finally dropped. (At least they both had their wives for those moments.)

It was odd for both the girls to be on the other side of being an expectant parent, but having been through it previously made them more adept at helping their husbands. However, they also got some giggles out of certain situations—like when Killian insisted his old tshirts still fit, exposing his belly for all the world to see, or when David attempted to milk the cows into his third trimester. The ladies also insisted on weekly pictures of the boys side-by-side; Snow already had a scrapbook going—because what were the odds of them ever being in this situation again?

So here they were—at 38 weeks for Killian and 36 for David—posing for their photos; Killian was feeling tired and over it, though looking forward to the end result, while David was still feeling great (of which Killian was both jealous and incapable of comprehending).

Killian waddled over to their sofa and collapsed on it once they were done, legs spread to let his belly rest between them, letting out a long sigh and resting his hand on the apex of his generous bump as he felt his daughter move within.

“That bad, huh?” David asked as he sat (much more gracefully) next to him; his belly still sait fairly high on his frame, but was beginning to drift lower.

“Aye,” Killian told him. “Give it a couple weeks and you’ll know.”

“I dunno,” David countered. “Even at 40 weeks, I’m not sure I’ll be that big—hey!” He was promptly punched in the arm.

“Boys? Stop it,” Snow scolded from the kitchen.

“Yeah, stop it,” Killian parroted, then stuck out his tongue.

David rolled his eyes. “Must be why that kid is so big—she’s already full of sass.”

He promptly got hit again, but then hissed with a different kind of pain and his hands rushed to his belly.

“I swear, if you go into labor before me…” Killian grumbled.

David relaxed a minute later. “No, it was a practice one,” he waved off. “There’s no way you’ll outlast me, not at that size.”

(Emma was the one to smack him upside the head that time.)

(However, he was right, but only just: it was three more hormonal weeks before Killian finally went into labor—only a few hours before David did, because why wouldn’t that happen in Storybrooke?

Both delivered healthy daughters—Alice Margaret Jones and Ruth Hope Nolan—in the wee early hours of the morning. And they eventually discovered the other perk of being pregnant at the same time: raising their babies together.)

-----------------------------------------------------

source: x x

thank you so much for reading! tagging a few: @wyntereyez @jennjenn615 @superadam54 @ashley-knightingale @justsomewhump @teamhook @mathiaskejseren @88infinity88

[mistresskayla-blog1]

STRANGE & WONDERFUL (script format)

Characters: Richard Armitage x OC Kayla Crowe

Fandom: Richard Armitage

Summary:

RICHARD returned to his flat. Kayla retires for the night. The next morning Kayla visits Richard in Astral. And then he calls her to arrange a breakfast date.

(The restaurant scene will be added separately. I'm still playing around with word count on this forum. Thanks for patience)

Warnings: psychics, Astral projection, romance, meditation, celebrity lifestyle,

Scene: Retiring for the night

1 am EST Kaylas’ King Suite

6th floor hallway Hotel lobby and street out front

(split scenes)

Richard leaves with Julian and another man, they exit the elevator and cross the lobby swiftly heading for the waiting car.

As they exit the hotel and get towards the car Richard speaks.

Richard: (to Julian) Can you come back in the morning. I have a call to make back at the flat, but just make sure to relieve Phillip.

Julian: Yes, sir. No problem. I will handle it myself, personally.

Richard: Good, good. Yes. Thank you.

Richard gets into the car and the four men drive away.

------------------------------

Kayla gets up off her knees from the floor and begins her bedtime routine, ever aware that there is a man on the other side of her door keeping her safe.

Kayla leaves the bathroom, wearing silk pajamas and moves towards the window, looking down towards the street. She spots Alexei on the curb and catches her breath, she looks at her watch and sees it is 211 am.

She exasperatedly sighs and closes her curtains, just as he looks up drunkenly toward the tower he knows her room is in.

Kayla walks across the room to the door. And knocks.

Kayla: Phillip?

Phillip: Yes Mistress?

Kayla: I can see Alexei down on the street. But I don’t know if he will come up here. There isn’t security downstairs so..

Phillip: Don’t worry, Mistress I will handle him. Get some rest. Sir said he will speak with you tomorrow.

Kayla: Oh? (question in her voice) I didn’t know that. Thank you.

Kayla retires to her bed, climbs in and closes her eyes, readjusting a few times. And tries to fall asleep.

--

Supposition:

Kayla is plagued by intense dreams, she calls out in her sleep several times Philip noted.

Richard also tossed and turned in his bed that night, trying to get the vision of this women out of his mind. But also not wanting to lose that memory of her. As he focused on her more, thoughts cropped up and transmuted through his consciousness. He saw them having sex, raising kids, fighting foes, righting wrongs… all the stuff of a legendary story that builds lives and saves them as well.

He wakes up smiling in his bed.

Scene: Wake Up World

“Wake up World” by Unsecret plays as the scene unfolds (POST)

SPLIT SCREEN (?)

Morning drizzle – spring, late April

Interior: Richard’s flat – Upper West Side, New York, NY

Interior: Kaylas hotel room – ____________, New York, NY

Richard Story –

(ADD IN FULL FLAT LAYOUT)

Richard opens his eyes, still in bed. Clothed in a tshirt and shorts.

Richard closes his eyes and sees the kiss again echoing and opens his eyes again. Looking at his hands, as if not sure he is awake for real.

Richard rises out of bed, and moves to the bathroom. Runs the tap and splashes his face, looking up at the mirror, trying to clear his mind. Richard starts to talk to himself in the mirror,

Richard: She is… so.. (sighs) memorable. How am I going to see her again?

(inaudible to audience)

Richard feels a tingle on the back of his neck, and the hair on his arms rise.. His ears begin to ring..but not painfully, just noticeably.

Richard closes his eyes again and a tickle enters his temple. A royal smile crosses his lips, and he looks into the mirror again. Accepting it.

Kayla’s Story:

Kayla rises, and moves to the curtains, opening them and letting the sunshine burst into the room. She sits on the bed, on top of the covers and begins to meditate. Legs crossed, hands open palmed on her knees. Several breaths in and she is in a hypnotic state.

((SE: show her leaving her body, and floating towards Richard.. When she finds him at the sink, she reaches for the back of his neck ))

Kayla watches Richard respond to her touch.

Flash back to her in the hotel room, a smile folds across her mouth in satisfaction.

Kayla speaks out loud in her room, as Richard hears ringing in his ears.

“I am here. Come back to me”

Kayla “travels” back to her body and settles in. Kaylas eyes open and she gets up off the bed. Kayla moves to the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

FADES OUT

Richard: What was that?

Richard looks into the mirror again.

Splashes water on his face and moves to retrieve his phone from the bedside table.

Richard smirks as he opens a new message for Kayla and sees her eyes flash on the icon of her picture.

Richard types a new message: Are you up?

He deletes immediately. And looks down

No. that sounds too informal (audible)

Richard tries again, typing out;

How are you feeling this morning?

This is Richard.

Richard smiles triumphantly.

As Richard sets down the phone on the bedside table, it rings and Richard nearly jumps.

Richard: “Hello?”

Julian: Good morning Sir, just wanted to check in before I went to see Mistress Kayla this morning. Did you need to meet with her?

Richard: Richard looks down at himself, undressed for the day.

Did Phillip have anything to report?

Richard moves across the room to his wardrobe, rustling a shirt out and trying to put it on as Julian speaks.

Julian: Yes, sir. I have a written report.

Richard: I will be down in 15 minutes.

Julian: Very good sir, we will be waiting.

Richard hangs up and sets the phone on the bed continuing to dress.

______

Kayla Moves out of the bathroom, dressed, hair set, and moves to put her heels on. She grabs her phone off the nightstand and opens it, seeing a new message.

Kayla’s eyes dilate as she views the message, Kayla audibly giggles.

And speaks as she talk texts,

“I am well, and how are you?”

Kayla sends, biting her bottom lip.

Richard receives a chime message, as he hangs up the call from Julian.

Richard opens the message and grins.

Richard: Types in: Have you eaten?

Kayla: No, are you offering?

Richard: I am on my way.

Kayla: Are you serious?

Richard: Yes, I am why?

Kayla: Looking forward to it.

Kayla took a deep breath as she hit ‘send’.

Richard: See you soon.

Richard quickly dresses into something casual yet trendy and heads out of his flat. A guard at the door as he opens it. They walk down, a hallway and into an elevator. They appear on the street a few moments later and Richard climbs into a sedan.

Julian is up front with the driver. Julian hands Richard a sheet of paper.

Julian: As you requested.

Richard: Richard takes the report.

Thanks

Richard reads the report thoughtfully, stopping two times. And looking up, as he asks.

She screamed in her sleep?

Julian: According to that report yes.

Richard: What did she say?

Julian: When I spoke with Phillip this morning, he indicated it was hard to tell, But asserted it sounded like your name.

Richard: Looked up at that remark quizzically.

My name?

Julian: Yes sir.

Richard: And I see the Russian did attempt to gain access to her again, (sighs) he’s going to be trouble.

Julian: Yes, sir. We think we can get him sent back to Chicago, but we wanted your go ahead.

Richard: Do you consider him a viable threat?

Julian: To you or her?

Richard: Both, actually.

Julian: He has no affiliation with you, and preliminary reports on her are sketchy at best. Its up to you. Do you want us to make inquiries?

Richard: What do you make of her, then?

Julian: Too little information for me to be sure, sir. But I can look into it further if you like.

Richard:

(Richard looks down again at the report, shifts his gaze outside, through the window, his face contemplative and sympathetic)

Please do.

Julian: (nods) Yes, and the Russian?

Richard: Keep a watchful eye.

“20 minutes later”, through midtown traffic they arrived at Kayla’s hotel.

Kayla was waiting in the lobby with Phillip.

Richard enters the lobby, Julian at his heels.

Richard smiles as he greets Kayla.

Kayla rises from the satee in the lobby, Phillip by the hearth posing by the fireplace. *

Kayla smiles.

Kayla: Thank you for offering me breakfast.

Richard: Its important to eat, and with you being, (pause) alone in town, I thought it gentlemanly to offer (smiles)

Richard leads her towards the exit, his hand trailing the small of her back, though not touching her. Kayla and Richard get into the car. Phillip enters a second car and follows the first car, housing Richard, Kayla, Julian and a driver.

Kayla looks over to Richard,

Kayla: Alexei did come back last night. Thank you for the allowance of your man, Phillip.

Richard: Grins

It was my pleasure, of course. I’m glad I did, since he came back.

Richard looked at her, Did you sleep well?

Kayla: Not really, too much excitement I guess. My nerves aren’t the best recently.

Kayla looks out the window, thoughtful.

Richard: Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.

Kayla: Its fine. No reason you should.

Richard: (Richard looks to Julian) Right, yes, of course.

(Richard readjusts his position in his seat)

Richard moves slightly towards Kayla in the car, leaving his hand resting on the seat between them. Kaylas’ hands were resting in her lap. She saw his gesture, looked over to him and smiled. Richard placed his right hand palm face up and relaxed.

Kayla ran her hand above his on the seat and closed her eyes.

Richard felt the static grow, raising the hairs on the back of his neck, which he rubbed away with his left hand, then he stopped. Kayla was still, her eyes closed. Slightly humming.

Richard tried to close his eyes, but he just couldn’t stop looking at her. Kayla smirked.

Kayla: Close your eyes (whispered) It helps.

Richard closes his eyes and focuses.

Kayla and Richard’s energy begins to flow

SE: their auras beam against each other – flowing circular about their bodies, glowing two distinctive colors that blend as they’re hands touch.

Richard grabs Kayla’s hand and she jolts up in her seat. Kayla’s eyes are wide, and Richard opens them in moderate surprise.

Kayla: That was.. different.

Richard: (Smiles)Yes, it was.

Kayla looked over at Richard, there hands still entangled.

Kayla: Did you do that on purpose?

Richard: Kind of… I didn’t really know what I was doing. I just wanted to touch you.

Kayla: Oh.. (smiles), that’s good right?

Richard: Yes. It is.

Richard squeezes her hand in his and Kayla visibly blushes.

Kayla: A sigh escapes her lips, and she closes her eyes, relishing the sensation.

Kayla opens her eyes again moments later and the car had stopped.

Are we here?

Richard looks through to her side, recognizing the eatery.

Richard: Yes. We are here.

Richard is closer than before, and he sneaks a kiss, brushing Kaylas lips before sitting back in his seat.

Kayla: Oh! You devil!

Kayla slaps at him, as he exits the car on his side of the vehicle.

Richard giggles

Julian opens Kayla’s side of the vehicle. And assists her out of the car.

Richard stands a few feet away, the morning drizzle hitting his leather jacket, and rolling off.

Julian opened an umbrella for her and walked them both through the restaurant entrance.

----

[willofhounds]

Tell me what the rain knows snippet

A cold rain pelted Shouts on the back as he stood outside of the crime scene. It was a small time robbery. They had been stealing food in a group of five when Kage caught them. The Underground Heroes were usually fairly lenient when it came to food thefts. Somehow however this group had injured a hero.

Kage was a young hero in his early twenties with black hair and green eyes. His quirk was Shadow Manipulation and normally kept him from getting injured. So how did he get that large bite mark to his shoulder? By the teeth impressions it was a large dog bite. A very large dog bite.

"What happened to you, Kage?" Asked Shouta as he watched paramedics tended to the injury.

One paramedic took samples from the wound. DNA evidence. It was most likely caused by a quirk from one of these men. No one would meet Shouta's eyes. They were clearly unhappy with being caught but he had the feeling that at least one would flip on the others. Injury to a hero was a felony. They would spend a lot of time in jail if they didn't take a plea.

Kage growled, "There was another criminal with this lot. A man, he..."

Here Kage paused his brow furrowing in confusion. Silence reigned for too long.

"He, what? Kage?"

Kage looked up at him with wide green eyes, "I don't remember what he looks like."

"What do you mean you can't remember him? How can you have forgotten him so easily?"

One of the criminals gave a choked laugh before Kage could answer him. It was the youngest of the group. A brown haired man with dull brown eyes and a scraggly beard forming. He was painfully thin and looked as if he could use a few good meals.

"No one can remember him after he walks away," laughed the man, "He's not human. Half the time people don't see him even when he's right there on top of them. The walk right around him. Seen 'im steal a hot dog right in front of the shop owner and they did nothing."

"Like a ghost," muttered another.

A ghost? Shouta doesn't believe in such superstitions. No ghost could create such an injury on a hero. No it was a person or an animal with a quirk. Still he was intrigued by the unknown person. If only because he was

...

A ghost was an apt description Shouta found two weeks later. In that time all of the heroes including Kage, police, and preparators had forgotten about the missing criminal. Kage had forgotten it by the time he got to the hospital. The paramedics report named it a dog attack as did Kage's.

Shouta could not understand it. How were they forgetting someone so easily? Ghost was not possible. There was no such thing. Yet a quirk didn't make sense either because as far as he could find there wasn't a quirk like it in the world. So he continued to patrol the city looking for a man only remembered existed.

Much to his annoyance there was nothing. No hide or tail of the mysterious man until his day off. He was walking the city looking for Christmas gifts for Hizashi and Nemuri. He was walking with Naomasa as they were searching for gifts for the same people.

As they walked towards the end of the street snow began to lightly fall. Feeling a shiver run down his spine. He hated the cold and couldn't wait for spring to arrive. Naomasa pulled his coat closer around him. As he did so he caught the scent of hotdogs hit him.

Without really thinking about it he turned his head to the side and caught sight of the hotdog cart. There standing next to the cart was a young man in his mid twenties with a hotdog in his hand. What made Shouta pause was the young man wore a thin tshirt and jeans. It was entirely too cold to be wearing that.

What the fuck? The cart owner didn't seem to see the man either. He continued to talk to the people around him. People who parted around the young man like he wasn't even there. Like a ghost.

The thought hit him like a ton of bricks. Could this be the man who bit Kage? Shouta elbowed Naomasa and indicated with his chin about the man.

Naomasa's dark eyes widened at the sight as he leaned close to ask, "Who is that? How is he not freezing to death in this weather?"

The man's head shot around and blazing green eyes searched the crowd. Shouta's heart stopped in his chest. Those eyes were like nothing he had seen before and for him to hear them. If Shouta didn't think his quirk was something suppressing the senses around him he would have thought it enhanced the man's senses.

Shouta decided to move in. He had to know what was going on. The green eyes widened even further with surprise. Naomasa swore under his breath but he followed the hero.

Once Shouta was close enough to be heard he asked, "Are you okay? It's freezing out you shouldn't be out here like that."

This man was in his early to mid twenties Shouta realized now they were close. There weren't any signs of hypothermia. Shouta couldn't see a blue tint and something in him screamed that he should look away and ignore this man. The quirk he realized so he pushed the thought away.

Next to him he could practically see Naomasa doing the same. They shared a knowing look and discretely Naomasa reached a hand into his coat pocket. Shouta then turned his full attention back to the man.

"You can see me?" Questioned the man is a low hoarse voice.

Naomasa's hand came back out and laid against his leg. Silent communication had been built between them over the years.

Carefully Shouta replied confused, "Of course I can see you. Why are you surprised by that? Are you okay?"

The boy took a step back away from him, "You... You aren't like me."

Naomasa tapped the outside of his right leg indicating that it was the truth.

What? He didn't understand. What did the man mean he wasn't like him? Was it because of his quirk?

"If it's because of a quirk we can help you," tried Naomasa, "It's not the first time I've had to deal with a strange quirk. I'm a detective with the Musutafu Police Department."

Green eyes shot around uncertain. That's when the two men noticed he was getting odd looks by those around them. It was as the passerbys thought they were talking to themselves. What in the fuck?

The man took a step back. His nostrils flared as if he was trying to catch a scent in the air. Then Shouta caught the barest flicker of amber in the green eyes. Shouta was immediately reminded of a book he read on the extinct creatures known as wolves.

Amber was the sign of a wolf. And the old man he had met at a bar just the week before. The old man who had said he was hunting wolves.

"I tell you now the words of "Red Moon." From the great spirit was born the wolf, and man became it's messenger. In other words, the human race was created from wolves. So says the author of "

The Book of the Moon."

That... That was impossible. Right? Yet Shouta knew there was something deeply wrong here. Green eyes with swirls of amber that hadn't been there before furiously searched the crowd a hint of fear and desperation on the face. It made Shouta want to reach out even if this was the man that attacked Kage.

"I think I should go," he tried in a soft voice. His head was still on the swivel and was taking air in at nearly hyperventilating levels.

Shouta reached out and the man flinched. He stepped back into the hotdog cart nearly knocking it over. That caused the owner to swear and yell at Shouta and Naomasa. Like the bystanders he didn't seem to see the man. This allowed him to step into the crowd and disappear.

[isaacathom]

ds9 time, s2e13

bashir and obrien time. i like their dynamic. theyre a fun duo. again, half the fun is that obrien doesnt like him all that much and bashir is at best ambivalent to that fact or at worst completely obvlious.

im familiar with the summary of this episode and even with that knowledge i dont quite know where this is going

like. okay. he goes 'all the information must be destroyed' and thats going to involve memory of this incident, which is going to cause. problems? because itll also remove all memories of this cooperation, i assume. is that where we're going? are they gonna kidnap my boys as part of this.

"i suppose another day won't kill me" the line read on that is painfully unsubtle, thank you obrien

oh when the summary said memory it meant with more like, violence. ohp fuck we've sentenced obrien to death thats deeply unfortunate

oh we're pulling some shit. im intrigued!

im not looking forward to when the shoe drops re: the harvester, as someone who loathes medical shit.

oh this is gonna be full 'get along tshirt' behavior but its 'were stuck in a bunker'

i always think its sweet in these episodes when everyone takes the deaths of their officers so seriously, so sincerely. like its just very sweet. i say this like ive seen a lot but i know theres been a few, in tng at least? like 80% sure. sisko really sells it because he looks fucking devastated.

bashir please stop being heterosexual the man has a job to do

oh shit bashir lore? please tell me he's not talking about dax or that alien from a couple of episodes back. also this lighting rules, its so dreamy (im not just saying that bc i think bashir's hot)

genuinely though when he says he was in love once who is he referring to.

no critique of this marriage bashir

uhoh the harvesters starting to work i dont like that one fucking iota sir

oh hey plants. botanical shit. her regular ass job.

oh this room is lit ominous as shit. oh keiko is so on the ball. this scene is sweet.

my assessment that dax is the only one who genuinely likes julian at all continues to be confirmed.

oh its actually quite sweet that quark brought them drinks for a toast. oh this toast is so cute. this rules. like its so cute in his way! i love that!!

having looked up the episode plot in order to like. settle my stomach metaphorically, the fact that keiko ends up being wrong about the coffee is hilarious to me.

obrien mimicking bashir is very cute

oh god dammit

okay good its not dax or the alien chick, its actual bashir lore, hell yeah.

something about the way bashirs fairly matter of fact when he says 'will i ever find anyone that wonderful again' hits. sells you that hes thought it a SHIT ton, almost rote.

im losing my mind out here

obrien trying doggedly to get julian to listen to him bc he thinks hes gonna die, exceptional really

nice of them to let a dying man have last words

iaaaaaaa so sweet

i love that bashir is so achingly sincere and obriens like haha, yeah i sure did say that, (rolls eyes) exceptional.

that was a fun episode! i hate medical shit so that was an endurance but it was really fun. just like. some cute character shit.

[eternally-writing]

just right | jjk.

pairing: Jungkook x reader

genre: angst, fluff

theme: established relationship!au , idol!au

rating: PG

warnings: themes of struggling with self-worth, reader has body image issues

word count: 1.6k

synopsis: Because when you can’t see for yourself how beautiful you are, Jungkook wants to remind you how you’re Just Right.

Banner by me! In case you can’t tell, this fic is inspired by GOT7’s Just Right, one of my favorite k-pop songs <3

--♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡--

A lot of girlfriends of idols tried not to watch their boyfriends on stage.You had never shared the same sentiment, wanting to support your boyfriend however you could, but as you watched your boyfriend, Jungkook, stand next to so many beautiful female idols, all of whom ARMYs were shipping with him, you couldn’t help but feel inadequate.

And you mean, you couldn’t blame them. Jungkook was something of a Greek god pretty much - tall, chiseled, and handsome. He was the perfect guy, a golden boy if you will. Taking in your form on the couch - sweatpants and one of Jungkook’s old tshirts on your body (it wasn’t as loose on you as you hoped it would be), the difference between you too became painfully apparent. You hugged your mug of hot chocolate chooser to your chest to calm the feeling that was taking over your body.

You knew you would only be hurt by looking at twitter, but you couldn’t help but pull out your phone and open your burner account. As the hateful comments continued on and on across your screen, you couldn’t hold back the tears that were clouding your vision from overflowing. What were just ideas in your head had manifested on your social media. Burying your head in between your knees you left them all flow, knowing that the moment Jungkook came back you would have to turn your feelings off since you didn’t want to burden him.

At the end of the day, you couldn’t see how they could possibly be not right. I mean just looking at Jungkook and looking at you would easily show the differences between you two. Frankly, you had never imagined dating an idol - the journey for you and Jungkook getting together had been laden with challenges, and honestly if you didn’t love him so much you would’ve given up a long time ago.

But sometimes, is love not enough?

——

Too caught up in your emotions, you didn’t even recognize the sound of your apartment door opening. Jungkook was also too caught up in his excitement at finally getting to rest after a long day of filming, and it was only after he put his keys down and stepped into the living room did he notice your sobbing form on the couch. He couldn’t help but let out a silent gasp at the sight, shocked at seeing you so emotional and helpless.  Rushing to you, he knelt down in front of you on the couch, taking your head into his hands and trying to wipe as many stray tears as he could as they fell continuously.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” whispered Jungkook, trying to speak softly so as to not startle you.

Trying to control your sobs, you still ended up gasping between words trying to keep your composure. “I just, I can’t do this Kook, I can’t do this anymore.”

Jungkook’s eyebrows furrowed. “No, no, what are you talking about?”

Tryin again in a more composed manner, you repeated your words back to him

Jungkook shook his head again, tension building in his body. “No this can’t be it, this doesn’t make sense. Did I do something? Did I say something? Is this something I didn’t do?”. He grabbed your hands in his and clutched them in his grasp, afraid that if he let go that you would drift away from him.  “There must be something I can do. Baby, I’d crawl to the ends of the Earth for you, you know that. Please.” He pleaded.

You knew Jungkook, you knew him so well that there was nothing that you could say that could convince him otherwise. Well, nothing except this.

“I don’t love you anymore.”

The words spilling out of your mouth caught both of you offguard. And the way Jungkook’s composure shattered in front of you made you almost regret lying to him. Even as the tears started spilling his eyes, you didn’t say anything more, trying to keep your composure.  Jungkook wiped his tears as quickly as they fell, his sadness quickly turning into a different emotion.

“Bullshit. I don’t believe you. Look me in the eyes and say it Y/N, because I can’t wrap my head around this.”

And you tried, you tried to look right at him and say it. But you had never lied to Jungkook before, so it sure as hell was almost impossible to start now. Every time you met his gaze, you felt your entire relationship flash through your mind. And how could you lie to the guy who supported you though your hardest? Who made you who you are today? You sighed and slumped back on the couch, unable to maintain your facade anymore.

“Oh baby… come here.” Said Jungkook as he opened his arms, letting you fall into them as the sobs wracked your body.

“I just… I… you deserve better Kook , someone famous and pretty. I’m just not good enough for you.” You whispered into his chest, embarrassed with your confession.

Jungkook immediately started shaking his head no, his heart breaking at the words coming out of your mouth. Pressing his forehead against yours, he took a deep breath to stop himself from getting emotional as he talked to you.

“Y/N, why do you even think this? I - ”… Jungkook felt himself at a loss for words.

His eyes drifted to your phone open with twitter next to you as he felt his eyes flare with anger. He had always told you to stay away from social media sites so you had expected him to berate you for your actions, but Jungkook couldn’t possibly be mad at you given your current state. Instead, he simply moved the phone away from your reach and turned it off, as if that could provide any additional comfort for you. He then touched your shoulders and gestured for you to face him, gently tilting up your head to look him in the eye.

“Look baby, you’re perfect to me -  you make me a better person and you make me the happiest person on Earth. I don’t care what any tweet or news article says, I love you and you’re the one for me.”

“But Jungkook - “

“No, no but’s. I love you, that’s it. I will yell that to the whole world, even post it every day if that will make you feel better.”

You felt like crying even harder now, not at your own insecurities anymore, but instead at how sweet Jungkook was. On any other night you would’ve been able to wipe your tears away yourself, but today, just this once, you wanted to be comforted by your boyfriend. You let your body fall against him, taking refuge in his warm embrace.

“I think I know exactly what you need, baby..”

Instantly, Jungkook went to work, tracking down a speaker in your apartment and pushing some of your lighter furniture out of the way. Before you could even ask what Jungkook was doing, he pressed play on his phone and the familiar tone of GOT7’s Just Right filled the room. At the same time, he assumed the beginning position of the choreography, ready to tackle all 7 members’ parts at once.

“Baby, you are, just… just right”

It was honestly so impressive that Jungkook knew all the lyrics and the choreography to the song (you can only imagine that he learned it from his bestie Yugyeom), and the way that he sang so sincerely to you couldn’t help but bring a smile to your face.

Mirror, mirror please tell her

Scale, please tell her too

That she doesn’t need to change anything

That she’s pretty and perfect just as she is right now

He made sure to serenade you, dancing around your kitchen and picking the flowers (and some chopsticks accidentally) to hand to you as a sweet gift. Slowly, you felt the tightness in your chest fade away as Jungkook continued his performance, and the tears that were once covering your face were now replaced by a big smile.

Everything about you is just right

So relax, stop worrying

You can believe what I’m saying 100%

So you can erase all of your worries 100%

As the song came to a close, you cheered for your boyfriend as he took a dramatic bow. It really felt like the air felt lighter in your apartment, the storm cloud previously lingering over your mood suddenly washed away.

Jungkook plopped down next to you on the couch, pulling you closer into his hold and resting his chin on your shoulder. He instinctively reached out to twirl your hair between his fingers.

“So… how do you feel now?”

You had to give Jungkook a smile for that. Wiping away the last of your tears and trying to sniffle away the last of the snot in your nose, you leaned further into him, eliciting a forehead kiss from your man.

“Much, much better now Kook, thank you.”

You don’t know how long you both stayed thee like that, but you wish that you cold just feeze that moment and stay in it forever. Jungkook’s voice was the last thing you heard before you went to sleep...

“I wish that you could see what I see, babygirl. The way your presence lights up a room, the way you look so beautiful even when you just wake up in the morning, the way you make my heart stop whenever you smile. You’re so perfect, Y/N, and I’m going to try my best to show you that… because you, my love, are just right”.

--♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡--

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this please let me know - Emily♡

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 24: Mafia Husband

"I don't know," Draco groaned and Harry watched as he scrubbed his long, elegant hands over his face. "Maybe I should have just been a Mafia husband."

Harry blinked, looked down at the glass of whiskey in his hand, then back up at Draco. He was either too drunk for this or not drunk enough. "I'm sorry, what was that last part?"

"A Mafia husband," the blond slurred, "You know, I could have married some rich mobster and he would have given me gorgeous gifts and let me run a little background hustle. He'd take me to fancy restaurants and out dancing. Everything would be a bit dangerous, a bit sexy, you know."

Harry laughed, it came out a bit louder than he intended but it was too late to take it back now. "What a difference," he chuckled. "From Alan, the accountant, to a mobster."

"Alan was dull," he sniffed. "And I can't believe that he dumped me." He swallowed down the last of his whiskey. "He dumped me. I am so far out of his league."

"That's true," Harry agreed, he'd hated Alan from day one. He always hated Draco's boyfriends, but that was a different matter entirely and one that Harry didn't like to dwell on because it made him desperately sad and small to know that he was in love with his flatmate who'd never love him back.

(Read more below the cut)

"Harry?"

"Mmhmm?" Harry replied, pulling himself out of his depressing thoughts and looking across their kitchen table. His eyes caught the other man's and his heart stopped for a minute.

"Can I ask you a question? And you promise that you'll answer honestly?" Draco looked down at the table and Harry watched him trace the grain of the wood with his thumbnail.

Harry sat up straighter, "Of course you can."

"What is wrong with me?" he asked and it sounded so painfully small and insecure that Harry's heart shattered into a million pieces that he was sure he would never be able to put back together. "Why can't I-"

"There is nothing wrong with you," Harry said fiercely. "Not a thing," he said. "Any man would be lucky to have you."

"Pfft. That's-"

"I’m serious," Harry protested. "You're smart, and you're funny. You're the type of person who rescues kittens from trees. And I mean honestly, Draco, just look at you."

"Look at me?" he asked, looking down at himself. "What about me?"

"You're stunning," Harry said. And he was probably going to regret that in the morning, but it seemed his mouth wasn't finished ruining his life, "All tall and willowy, with perfect hair and perfect skin." He shook his head, "There's nothing wrong with you. You deserve to be treated with care and, and," he trailed off, at a loss for words. "You deserve every good thing," he finally finished ineloquently.

"Well we know that isn't entirely true," he replied after a moment and Harry narrowed his eyes at him. "I was a death eater after all."

"You were a child," Harry replied, "It wasn't your fault."

Draco shrugged miserably and Harry couldn't stand it any longer, he stood up and walked around the table. "What are you doing?" Draco asked

Harry knelt next to him and Draco looked down at him warily. "You," he said, taking Draco's hand in his, "are not your worst moments. You are not the horrible things that happened to you." He slowly pushed the sleeve of Draco's jumper up until he'd revealed the faded dark mark.

Draco stopped breathing and Harry looked up at him. "This is not who you are. The things you had to do to survive," he shook his head, "I know they haunt you but they aren't who you are." He leaned in and pressed a kiss to the inside of Draco's wrist.

"Don't," the other man gasped, wrenching his arm out of Harry's grip. "Don't," he repeated, eyes wild.

"Draco," he murmured, "It's just a mark now, like an old scar that had once been a painful wound. It's just your skin, just your body, and you are so beautiful."

"Harry," he whispered, tears filling his eyes. "Please."

"Please what?" Harry asked.

"Please don't say things like that."

"Oh," Harry said, standing abruptly.

"It hurts too much," Draco whispered. "I know you're trying to be kind, but my heart can't take-"

"What?" Harry asked. "What does that mean?"

"I'm in love with you," Draco finally said and it looked like a dam had burst somewhere inside of him, tears came spilling over and trailing down his cheeks. "And I know it's pointless, I'm not asking for anything to change. I know that you could never love me, t-"

Harry cut him off, cupping Draco's face in his hands and kissing him soundly. "I love you, too," he tried to say, but it came out all jumbled and messy because he hadn't bothered to remove his lips from Draco's first.

"What?"

"I love you, too," Harry replied trailing kisses over his cheekbones and pressing them to his eyelids. "I have for ages."

"Why didn't you say something?" Draco asked as he tilted his head up to get Harry to kiss his lips once more.

Harry obliged him, kissing him softly, gently, reverently. "Because you were always dating someone and I'm just me-"

"I love just you," Draco replied shaking his head. "We've been such idiots."

"It doesn't matter anymore," Harry assured him.

"Take me to bed," he whispered against Harry's lips.

"We've had a lot to drink," Harry said, shaking his head. "I-"

"Just to sleep," Draco begged, stroking his fingers over Harry's face. "I've spent too many nights wishing I was with you, I can't stand one more. Just take me to bed and hold me," he murmured.

"How could I say no to that?" Harry asked softly, rubbing his nose up the length of the other man's. "I've spent too many nights wishing that I was with you, too," he confessed.

He tugged Draco up and led him to his room where they both undressed down to their tshirts and boxers before sliding into bed together. Harry laid on his back and Draco curled up on his side under Harry's arm, resting his head on Harry's shoulder and snaking his arm across his chest. Harry's heart expanded even further, threatening to break open his ribs. Sure that this was the most perfect thing he'd ever felt.

"Is this alright?" Draco whispered in the soft, dark quiet of the room.

"Better than alright," Harry replied, pressing a kiss to Draco's forehead. "Is this alright for you?"

Draco nodded and traced idle patterns over Harry's ribs for a long moment, "I think this has ruined me for anything else."

"Sorry?"

"Just," he shrugged and Harry felt the movement in his body and wasn't that a marvelous thing? "Nothing has ever felt this good," Draco whispered. Harry held him a smidge tighter, "It's like coming up for air."

"Then I think we should do this as often as possible," Harry said reasonably.

He felt Draco smile against his neck, "I think that's a good idea."

And so they did. As they aged, it never changed; wherever you found one, the other wasn't far behind. Sitting a bit too close, holding hands everywhere they went, and frequent kisses to lips, cheeks, noses, eyebrows, hands, and whatever else was reasonably within reach became the norm. They never grew out of it and they never stopped holding each other.

---------------

Day 23: Storge, Phileo, Eros, and Agape | Day 25: Hiraeth

[sirthisisa-wendys]

Irreplaceable Things: Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: You’ve both failed to take simple precautions; now you’re the one paying the price. 

words: 1930

tw: unplanned pregnancy, thoughts of abortion. 

The stick clatters to the tile floor. Your shaking hands reach down to pick it up again, and you’re hoping that the results might change in the time you lift it from the cold, unforgiving ground and up to your eyes. But they’re the same as before, plain as day. 

“Oh, god…” You whisper, feeling the strength leave your bones. It was only a matter of time before things began to unravel, and the endless options to solve the problem you faced were in front of you. But before you can even consider the tamest of options, you hear the door to the bathroom open, and you tuck the stick into an empty pocket of your backpack. For now, you would go out and train as if you didn’t find out the most important information of your life thus far. No one would suspect your circumstances had changed - things had changed drastically - and somehow you would convince them that the only thing they had to worry about were where their next recommendations were coming from. Once you exit the stall, you check your appearance as you wash your hands, then leave without acknowledging the other woman standing at the sink. 

The nausea, the moodiness, hell, the tender breasts were all signs that pointed toward the suspicion that you were in trouble. After briefly mentioning the issue to Shoko, she tossed the pregnancy test at you, along with three condoms. 

“I’m surprised either of you went without protection considering --” Shoko cut herself off, turning to rummage around in her dresser drawer and handing you a drawstring bag. “Just don’t let anyone see you with those.” 

You had been irresponsible. Paying the price was all you could do now, whether it meant you would carry the child to term and be kicked out of Jujutsu Tech, or you would--

“You took forever in the bathroom,” Satoru whined, dropping his shoulders. “I almost left for lunch without you.” You know that the threat was half-assed. If Satoru showed up to lunch without you in tow, Suguru would throw a fit. And even the blue-eyed man walking ahead of you wasn’t in the mood to fight with him. Yet. 

Thoughts of a child swirl around your mind as you follow Gojo to the restaurant. You can’t focus on anything else, and you wonder if you should tell Suguru, or if you should keep it to yourself like you want to. 

“I’m not going to ask why you’re so quiet,” Gojo tosses over his shoulder casually. “But if it has anything to do with the way my ass looks in these pants, I want you to keep it to yourself.” You choke out a laugh, momentarily forgetting your troubles, but you don’t catch Satoru’s relieved smile as you wipe away tears from your eyes. 

Before long, the restaurant appears and the both of you go inside, instantly greeted by the warm welcome of the staff members. When you spot the familiar half bun in the crowd of people, you point it out to Gojo, then make your way over to them. 

The closer you get, the more your feet drag against the cheap red carpet. A strong urge to tuck your tail and run washes over you, but you know that wouldn’t make anything easier. Suguru stands to greet you with a tender kiss, pressing his hand against your lower back before pulling out your seat beside him. 

“We thought you’d never show,” Shoko sighed, shuffling her menu on the table. 

“Y/n took ages in the bathroom. I was sure she flushed herself down the toilet,” Gojo gripes and Geto snorts in response. You catch the knowing glance from Shoko over your menu, but you don’t acknowledge it. You just look back to the words on the menu, the words blurring and losing shape the longer you stare. 

When the waitress comes around, you still don't know what to eat, and in your moment of indecision, Geto orders for you. 

“We’ll split it,” he murmurs, placing a hand on your thigh. “Gojo, you said something about losing your dorm room key today?” 

As the two banter back and forth about the case of the missing key, your thoughts overwhelm you again. You stare off into space and consider your options: for one, you could go to your town and to the clinic should you need this taken care of. Or you could tough it out. Adoption was an option, but that meant you would have to carry it to term, but it would be the safest thing to do… No child would be safe having two sorcerer parents who were always getting into trouble. 

The food arrives without fanfare or flourish, and while Suguru divides the lobster and rice into halves, your stomach lurches. You place a hand on his arm, and he looks up, pausing mid-cut. 

“I think I’ve lost my appetite.” 

The admission makes Suguru frown. He presses his lips together and places the utensils back on the table. 

“Do you want to go back to campus?” 

“I don’t want you to have to wait to eat,” you reason, standing up from the table quickly. “I think I’m going to go lay down for a little bit. Feeling kind of woozy.” Before Suguru can argue with you, you grab your bag and leave, rushing out into the stale fall air. You try to walk as fast as you can back to campus, avoiding your rushing thoughts like the cars passing by, but to no avail. When you get back to your dorm, you throw open the door and toss your backpack onto your bed, fishing out the stick once more, hands trembling in fear.

“Please be a joke, please be a joke…” you mutter, flipping the damned plastic thing over.  

The two lines had faded a bit, but it was still painfully obvious that the verdict was in. After dropping the stick on your desk, you go into the bathroom and pull up your uniform shirt, feeling the fabric crumple under your fingers. Sticking a hand down your skirt and to your abdomen, you seek the evidence of anything with your fingers, but find nothing except tender skin. It would take some time, but if the test was right, you’d feel signs of growth within a few months. You don’t have time like that. 

It’s either being a jujutsu sorcerer or being a mother. 

There’s no compromise. No ‘and’s. The next thought dawns on you as if someone opened a window and let fresh air in. 

You could move out. 

You could leave Jujutsu Tech without a word, without any fuss, and go back home. With some convincing, your family would understand. They wouldn’t be upset. You don’t think about Suguru as you pack your clothes in a hurry, tossing them onto your desk and then stuffing them into a large suitcase that brought your things here in the first place. You can only make one trip, you reason, so you have to leave the non-essential things behind. Only take what’s irreplaceable. 

It’s only when you’re rummaging through your tshirts that you happen across three of Suguru’s shirts, neatly stacked and waiting for someone to wear them. You consider leaving them behind as a final goodbye instead of a note or a text. But another part of you wants to take them, wants to feel the cloth that touched his skin resting against yours and engulfing your frame. You want something to remember him by; something that you can look at and remember all of the good memories at Jujutsu Tech… 

You press a shirt to your face and inhale the freshwater scent of Suguru’s cologne. It was just as fresh as the first day you two had met. Without warning, you feel tears slip out of your eyes and run down your cheeks in rapid succession. You couldn’t tell Su goodbye. Not when he would beg you to stay and make it work and push you to stay by his side. You couldn’t cripple him like that and make an even bigger target for his enemies to aim at. 

Conversation outside of your door reminds you that time is running out and fast. No doubt Suguru was on his way to confront you about your sudden exit, and you would need to be gone before his bulky frame walked through the door. There were no other options. 

With a grunt, you wipe your tears away and press his shirts into your overflowing suitcase. The flap won’t even close correctly as you try to press on it and zip it, but you fail miserably. Tears of frustration leak out of your eyes this time, and you jerk the zipper back and forth, trying to dislodge the item of clothing that caught the contraption. 

Heavy footsteps are making their way toward you and you know time is up. You’re caught before anyone even opens the door, but you still try to get the suitcase closed. As the door unlocks, the zipper breaks, and you’re left with an overfilled suitcase and three very confused sorcerers standing in the doorway. 

“Y/n? What are you doing?” You turn to see Geto, Shoko, and Gojo all standing in the doorway, Suguru’s right hand holding the leftovers from the restaurant. 

“I…” The words won’t come out. 

“Gojo, let’s let them talk.” Shoko pushes the sullen white-haired man off to his dorm, realizing what the fuss is about before anyone can utter another word.

Suguru still stands in the doorway, brows furrowing. “You’re packing.” The statement is met with more tears and he looks down the hallway before entering and shutting the door, placing the food on the counter. Without words, he examines the mess around the room, noticing the haphazardness of the scene. He picks up a few items of clothing from the floor and walks around with his hands behind his back before stopping in front of you and cupping your face between his palms. “Tell me.” 

“I can’t,” you croak, wetting his fingers with your tears. 

“Don’t start keeping secrets from me now, kitten. What’s got you so worked up?” The tenderness of his voice breaks your resolve, and you slide your eyes over to the desk where a pile of clothes sit on top of your shame. Suguru notices and removes his hands from your face. As he removes your clothes and puts them on the chair, the stick slides off of the desk and hits the floor again. 

I could run for it right now, you think. But your limbs don’t move an inch, and Geto doesn’t need to bend over to take a closer look at the stick. He already knows what’s taken place by the fact that it resides within the four walls of your room. 

“Is it mine?” he whispers, staring at the white thing blankly. 

“Of course,” you reply, hands creeping toward your abdomen. “There’s been no one but you for the past year.” He pauses, wringing his hands carefully. 

“And we’re keeping it,” he states, but it felt more like a question to you. 

“If that’s what you want.” Before you can blink, he advances toward you and presses his lips against yours, holding you close. When you break the kiss, Suguru nudges your nose with his, running a hand up and down your back. “But how--” 

“Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out.” You relax into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. “I’ll protect you like I’ve always done. And I’ll protect our child.”

[opheliasbrokenmind]

sweet love - will graham

*cough* apparently i’m back on my bullshit aka simping over old fictional men and i know will’s much younger than hannibal but he is indeed still old enough for me ;))

this is my first time writing for hannibal characters and from now on, i’m taking requests for will and hannibal. let me know what you think! <3 ps i think this is s1 will? i’ll start s3 tonight and i’m so excited...

those broken, crooked smiles... when you first saw will smile like that, like he was in pain, it pained you as well but you were quick to take a step and start a conversation with him

it was a bit quite surprising for him to have a friend so quickly, someone who cared about him without any expectations, unlike his other very called ‘friends’

being around him, you noticed how often he looked sad, trying to put a smile on but failed most times

you blamed the world for that. jack crawford, doctor lecter, the agents and people working for fbi, they were all guilty in your eyes

if it was making him uncomfortable, will shouldn’t be out there in the field but that was what they made him do every single day 

they would impatiently let him relive the murder and after they got what they wanted, he would come to you, more damaged than the previous time

but will knew you would be there, offering him some comfort he craved for and he would ask himself, what has he done that good to meet somebody like you?

you on the other side would watch him thoughtfully, feeling sorry for him and angry at everyone and everything

sometimes if he wasn’t painfully nervous and overwhelmed, he would lay on your lap and listen to you talking about anything

you’d do your best to distract him from the real, cruel world he was living in, telling him about a book you’ve been reading, a movie you’ve seen, a painting you like or just what you’ve been doing all day 

and he’d love hearing those mundane things, all normal compared to what he saw at work, you were the only thing in his life, connecting him to normal people’s world and he was grateful for that

whenever you touched him, he’d lean into your touch and you could swear he was melting, his eyelids getting heavier when you played with his curls

some nights you’d offer him to stay and he would accept, he didn’t want to go back home and sweat all night thanks to his nightmares

you’d pick a nice movie and before you could finish it, you’d both get sleepy and head to your bedroom

at first he was hesitant to sleep with you, after all was that a thing friends would do? you had to assure him it was alright and let him know you were happy to know he was rather with you than wandering in the woods or something 

he was also afraid to have a nightmare while sleeping with you, didn’t want you to see him like that, what if he scared you?

then one night it happened. you woke up to the sounds he made in his sleep, shaking slightly and his whole body covered with sweat, you immediately turned the bedside lamp on  

‘will, will, wake up’ you shook him slowly but it didn’t work so you sat on the bed, grabbed his wrists and pulled him to yourself like you were pulling him back to reality from his dark nightmares

when his eyes adjusted to the light, the first thing he saw was you. he remembered seeing you worried but that look on your face, you looked so pale

he thought for a moment you were going to ask him to leave and say you didn’t want to see him again but no, he was wrong

instead you wiped the look on your face and gave him a soft smile, getting closer to him and cupping his sweaty cheeks, ‘it’s alright, you’re awake now’

‘i... i’m sorry’ he tried to apologise but it caused you to frown, ‘why would you? you’re not responsible for those nightmares, will. you take off your tshirt and i’ll go get a towel, okay?’

you didn’t wait for an answer and left the room, coming back with a towel as he did what you told him to do. he thought you were going to hand the towel to him but no, you reached out and wiped the sweat on his face, his chest and his back, ‘you didn’t have to do that’ he whispered but you heard him

‘i wanted to. if you don’t want to sleep again we can stay up together’ you offered and he gave you that smile, the one that broke your heart the most

‘don’t you have work in the morning?’ you shrugged, ‘i can manage being tired one day, don’t worry about me. let’s go to the kitchen, i’ll make some tea for us’

following you to the kitchen, will felt like he could get used to this. being with you, sharing things with you. but it also pained him to know he was being such a trouble to you, you didn’t have to bare him, not at all

‘look, y/n, i appreciate everything you do for me and i’m so grateful but i don’t want you to feel like you have to. i’m not a wounded animal you should take care of, you owe nothing to me’ he spoke clearly, letting you know about his insecurities once again

you stopped watching the water boiling in the kettle and turned to see him, only to find him resting his back on the counter, his beautiful eyes not daring to look into yours as he waited for you to speak

‘i’m well aware of that, will. why can’t you believe me when i say i want to help you, be there for you? don’t you see how much i care? how much it pains me to see you fading away?’ you sounded weak, walking to him but will knew how powerful you were. you were the one still had the ability to keep him sane, his rock to hold on when the dark winds blew

you touched his chest and waited for a moment, he didn’t move so you had the courage to rest your warm hands on his broad shoulders, his naked skin almost cold from the sweat

‘i don’t want you to agonize yourself over me, i’m not your responsibility. look at you, what time is it, y/n? you should be sleeping in peace, with a man who knows how to... make you happy’ he let it out of his chest and finally looked at you, you watched him while speaking, not moving an inch away

he waited for you to speak, to tell him you agreed with him. you squeezed his shoulders gently, his muscles hard under your palms and you smiled, ‘don’t you get it, will? i am happy when i’m with you. i like being around you. maybe i should say it more so you can believe me, too’

then you cupped his left cheek and leaned in to leave a kiss on his other cheek, he closed his eyes and embraced you in a hug. his head rested on your neck, ‘thank you, y/n. i know it doesn’t look like it but that means a lot to me’

‘yes, i know. i’m not sure i understand enough but i’m working on it’ he nodded once you stopped hugging and watched you make a herbal tea, saying it’ll soothe him a little bit. will doubted but appreciated your effort, sometimes even watching you eased his mind as if you were some kind of tranquillizer

i’m in love, he thought. i’m madly in love

[onebatch2batch]

Heyo, dialogue prompts: 14 or 30? 😊

HI THIS WAS FROM FOREVER AGO BUUUUUT that's my m.o. so here we are. Hope you like it!!

And no, I'm never going to stop writing different versions of Frank and Karen getting together, you can't make me :)

--

14. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

Frank can practically hear David scheming, and he’s proven right when an anthropomorphic mop of hair bends into his line of sight and he says, “Hey, remember in the bunker, when we were still on the run?”

They’re both standing in David’s front yard. Frank’s van is in need of an oil change and a replacement filter and since he’s not keen on anyone else working on his getaway vehicle, he called up David to request use of his paved, suburban driveway. It’s been a few weeks since he’s managed to get over here, and David had instantly agreed on the condition that Frank stay for dinner. It’s a beautiful summer day, even if it’s a little hot, and he’s feeling a little off-kilter from the sounds of children playing all around. It’s so painfully normal that for a moment he’d regretted asking, and then David had offered him a drink. The taller computer genius doesn’t know shit about cars, so he’s alternating between fetching more beers and talking Frank’s ear off. It’s been about an hour now, and Frank has slowly relaxed into the background noise.

“Yeah,” Frank responds dryly around the flashlight between his teeth. He’s elbow deep in grease and not really interested in where this line of questioning is going to go, but David has other ideas.

“Uh huh. You know, when you got yourself on the news after that kid held Karen hostage?”

If Frank is affected by the name, all David notices is a sharp glance. “Yeah.”

“And how you freaked out and begged for my help and said she was family?”

Frank straightens and sets the flashlight down on the bumper of the car. “You got a point, Lieberman? I’m busy.”

“Yeah, I have a point. Was that all just bullshit, or what?”

They stare at each other. Frank’s jaw ticks.

“...what.”

“Thought so.”

“No, what?”

“Well you made this huge declaration and then almost got yourself killed trying to rescue her so--”

“God damn it, Lieberman, you’re never going to let that go, are you--”

David shakes his head, exasperated. “I mean, we haven’t even gotten to meet her yet and it’s been six months since Madini used her government wiles to give you a new identity--”

Frank scowls. “It’s none of your--”

The other man cuts him off quickly, hands up. To Frank’s immense displeasure, the other man looks less cowed and more placating. “I’m just saying, invite her to dinner next week. What harm is there? Maybe something good might happen to you for once, god forbid.” His friend stares him down, using every couple of inches of height to try and look intimidating. Of course it doesn’t work, but Frank is too busy thinking about having a family dinner with Karen, with his friends, like a normal person. Like a couple. He realizes too slow that David is leering at him, pleased.

“David, shut the hell up.”

“You’re blushing. Is that a yes? I’ll tell Sarah.”

--

Karen doesn’t question it when Frank calls her up after half a year of radio silence. She asks if it's a casual dress dinner and what kind of wine to bring, and then announces she’s got to go and she’ll see him Friday at six sharp.

He doesn’t know if that’s better or worse than her just telling him to shove it.

--

Friday creeps up on him, and by the time he parks outside of her apartment it hasn’t really sunk in that he’s about to take Karen Page to a domestic dinner in the suburbs. Because it’s definitely not a date, even though it kind of is. It’s the stuff he used to do with Maria and the kids all the time when he was on leave; double dates and cook outs and all that crap. He’s rusty as hell and usually shit company, but they keep asking him back. And now, he’s throwing Karen into the mix.

It’s a feeling similar to being shot in the head and waking up in a hospital room. Disorienting and uncomfortable as hell.

He picks her up in the van, leaning against the side of it as he waits. The Lieberman’s neighborhood is outside the city, about a twenty minute drive. It’s going to give them plenty of time to talk, and he’d barely restrained himself from looking up conversation starters online before leaving his place. He doubts there’s any suggestions for a vigilante-cum-construction worker who’s picking up a date he’s spoken a handful of words to for the first time in six months. He’s just considering cancelling the whole thing when the door to her building opens and she steps out.

He’s seen Karen a lot of ways. He’s seen her in pencil skirts and heels and blouses, in tshirt and jeans, bruised and bloody. He’s never seen her in a sundress with her pinked shoulders bare to the world and strappy sandals on her feet. Her hair is in a long braid over her shoulder. She looks fucking resplendant. Absolutely divine. Fucking poetry in motion.

He’s fucked.

“Hi,” she greets, coming to a stop in front of him. She’s got a bottle of wine in her hands. Her eyes punch little, individual question marks into his skin when she searches his face.

“Hey.” He inhales, bracing for her reaction. His throat closes up when he gets a whiff of her perfume. So familiar from the handful of times he’s been close enough to smell it--something soft and floral, something that makes his head swim. He thinks back to that moment so many months ago, swaying together in the elevator, her skin against his, her perfume subtle under the metallic tang of blood.

Karen doesn’t immediately go for interrogating him. She only lifts the bottle in her hand. “I brought a white, is that okay?”

Wary relief loosens the knot at the top of his spine. He nods, pushing off the car to open her door. “Sure.”

When Karen climbs in, carefully arranging her skirt around her, the dark interior contrasting with the soft yellow of her dress, Frank thinks about a conversation with Curtis all those months ago. Wonders when the kick is coming.

They spend the first ten minutes looking out separate windows and listening to the radio. After that, Karen starts talking like she’s made her mind up about the evening is going to go. She asks him how he’s been, if he’s gotten a job, how Dinah is, what the Liebermans are like. Nothing is accusatory. They could be old friends passing one another on the street, the way she’s talking. Almost like she’s talking to a scared dog. Coaxing it out of a corner.

Guess he deserves that.

By the time he pulls onto the appropriate street, it almost feels normal. They’ve fallen into a familiar back and forth that’s easy to keep up with, and when he opens her door she gives him a small grateful smile, accepting his hand on the way down.

He’s not disappointed when she lets go to straighten the fabric of her dress. He’s not.

--

As always, the Lieberman household is an explosion of domesticity. There’s shoes on the stairs, a sweet smelling candle burning on the coffee table, toys and books strewn over the floor. Pictures line the walls. When Frank knocks on the door, Zach opens it like he’s been waiting for them.

“ Hi, Pete!” he greets excitedly, and then his eyes land on Karen. “Who’s that?”

“Hello, I’m Karen Page.” She crouches down to look him in the eye and smiles. “You must be Zach, right?”

He flushes, twisting his fingers nervously. “Yeah. Are you Pete’s girlfriend?”

They’re saved from answering by a sudden, high pitched shriek. “Frank!!”

Karen manages to stand out of the way just in time for Leo to come barrelling down the stairs directly into Frank, hugging him tightly around the middle.

“Frank, Dad says you were here Saturday but you were gone before I left Ann’s house!!” she pulls away and waves a book at him. “I’m reading the book you told me about!”

He grins down at her. “I waited around for ya, but your mom said you wouldn’t be home until later. How’s the book, huh?”

She scrunches her nose. “I don’t know yet. I’ll let you know. Are you Karen?”

Karen laughs. “I sure am. Leo, right?”

“That’s me. Come on, my mom is in the kitchen.” She nudges Zach and then four of them head into the other room. Sarah Lieberman is standing behind the kitchen counter, chopping up a head of lettuce. When they walk in, she beams at them.

“Hey guys, welcome! Hang on, let me finish this. Pete, David’s out in the garage trying to fix the sprinklers. Can you--?”

Frank rolls his eyes. “Say no more.”

He lifts his brows at Karen, but she gives him a jerk of her head. Frank huffs and stalks off after kissing Sarah on the cheek, Leo trailing after him talking about sprinkler systems and tools. Zach joins his mother behind the counter and peers at Karen curiously. She sets the bottle of wine down.

“So Karen!” Sarah exclaims, dumping the lettuce into a bowl. “Let’s get you a glass of wine and chat. How’s that sound?”

--

They end up on the patio furniture. After completing the salad and sides, Sarah turns on the grill and then ushers them to the corner of the patio, refilling their glasses.

“So,” she starts, and peers at Karen over the rim of her glass. “I’m going to be forward, but I get the feeling you’ll appreciate that. What’s the deal with you and Pete? Sorry--habit. Frank.”

Karen could have guessed this was coming, even if she expected a little more subtlety. And Sarah’s right, she appreciates the bluntness. It gives her a chance to answer in kind.

“I don’t know.” She runs a finger over the rim of her glass, frowning. “I haven’t--we haven’t spoken in...a while. Six months, actually. And the last time I saw him..well, it didn’t go as well as I’d hoped. I thought I scared him off, actually.”

“How so?”

And the story falls out of her mouth, in pieces. She hasn’t spoken to anyone about Frank, about her feelings for him--the good or bad--or about that afternoon in the hospital. “--and I thought...I thought maybe he would finally kiss me.” She runs a hand through her hair, frustrated. “And then he pulled that I’m not a hero bullshit and that’s the last I saw of him. Until he called this week.”

Sarah rolls her eyes. “That sounds like him. Honey, did you know when we first met he was gathering information on David?”

“Ah, yes. I was the one who found David for him.” She grimaces. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be! We’re lucky he came looking. Without him…” she shrugs. “I would still be a widow. And my kids still wouldn’t have their father. I’m just trying to say he may do things backwards, but he ends up doing things for the right reasons. Even if it takes him time to figure that out.”

--

Dinner goes well. Dinner goes really, really well. Not that Frank was worried--there isn’t a person alive who can sit down with Karen Page and at the very least admire her. The Liebermans fall in love with her immediately. The kids demand that she stay for a board game after dinner. Leo brags about her science project. Zach shyly asks if Karen likes football. Sarah drills her with questions about her job. David keeps her laughing while stupid jokes and send Frank knowing glances throughout dinner that makes Frank want to throw peas at him.

Karen is charming, sweet, and great with the kids. She gets along with David and Sarah, and sends him warm, unsure smiles until dessert.

They play Apples to Apples, and the kids decimate. Karen is a close third. Frank loses terribly, but he’s still busy ruminating over the warm feeling in his chest at the cacophony of noise that surrounds him as everyone submits to another peal of laughter to notice.

“Frank,” Leo says innocently once they’ve put the board game away and Sarah has told the kids it’s time for bed. She stands in the doorway to the kitchen and looks at him sternly, hands on her hips. “Please bring Karen around more. It’s not fair that you get to hog her and we’ve just met.”

“Leo, that’s Miss Page to you.” Sarah tries for sharpness but ends up laughing. “Off to bed. Don’t forget to brush your teeth.”

“Bye Miss Page!” the kids chorus, and then it’s just the adults.

“Great kids,” Karen laughs. “Smart, too. You’re in trouble.”

Sarah sighs and pats her husband’s cheek fondly. “Yeah, we know. Somehow both of them got his brain.”

David chuckles, turns quickly to press a kiss to his wife’s palm. “At least they didn’t get my hair,” he jokes.

Karen sneaks a glance at Frank, then quickly looks away. He catches it, just briefly, as does David.

“Sarah, we should probably make sure the kids are actually brushing their teeth. I’ll tackle Leo if you tackle Zach, tag team it? We’ll be right back, guys.”

It’s quiet in the kitchen after that. Karen takes a sip of her wine and taps her fingers. There’s something on her mind, he can tell. When she doesn’t say anything he leans forward to capture her gaze. “What is it?”

“Why now, Frank?” Karen asks.

The conversation he’s been dreading. A feeling of shame bubbles up so suddenly it nearly knocks him off his chair. He scratches his neck for no reason other than to expel the nervous energy building in him.

“I didn’t want to…” There’s no use pretending like they’re talking about something else, not when she’s staring at him like that. Like she's been waiting all night for this conversation while he’s been tricking himself into thinking it may not happen. His finger dances restlessly on the table top. “I didn’t want to get you sucked back in.”

“Into what?” She arches a brow. “You?”

“Me. My life. My goddamn baggage. I know you deserve better than me.” He clears his throat. “So I wanted you to have a chance to live your life without my ghosts hanging around.”

“Frank Castle,” Karen sighs, exasperated, “please don’t tell me you’re making decisions for me. And that still doesn’t answer my question--why now?”

His expression tightens. “C’mon Karen. I’m just tryin’ to keep you safe--”

“How many times do I have to tell you--”

“As many as it ta--”

“Frank--” David steps into the kitchen, Sarah in tow. They pause, looking between the two people seated at the table awkwardly. “Oh, are we interrupting something?”

“No, David. Thank you both for tonight. I think I should be going.” Karen stands and looks at Frank. “I have loved you for two years, Frank. No amount of avoiding me or trying to protect me is going to change that. Excuse me.”

And then she walks away.

--

He catches up to her just down the street. As soon as he sees that familiar head of blond hair he pulls the van over and hops out, jogging to catch up. Karen glances at him and then pauses, as if waiting for something.

“Let me drive you home,” he asks. “Please.”

He doesn’t take her home straight away; she doesn’t ask. Frank drives until he finds a spot overlooking the water. The heat has finally broken and a cool breeze comes in through the open window, stirring Karen’s hair. He shuts off the engine. They sit in silence while he tries to decide what to say.

“I guess I should start by apologizing,” he says finally, tapping the steering wheel. He’s past nervous, he just wants to fix his own screw up. “I’m sorry, Karen. I don’t want to make any decisions for you. I should have--I should have talked to you about it. I should have started this conversation a long time ago.”

“So, start it.” She’s watching him, waiting. There’s a tense expression on her face--like she’s either trying not to cry, or trying not to smile. Or tell him off. He’s not sure which, yet.

Frank clears his throat. “Okay. Uh. I’m not gonna make excuses, I’m just gonna tell you what I know. I know that I have done some shit, and I’m going to continue doing that shit. I’m not ever gonna be normal. I know that you’re smart as hell, and you check me, and you’re a fucking force of nature. I know that I have been telling myself that you deserve more than some--fuckin’ vigilante who wakes up to nightmares more than he doesn’t. I know you deserve to be safe and happy. You deserve more than I can give you. But uh,” he takes her hand cautiously, waits for her to pull away, relaxes when she doesn’t, “...I wanna try.”

“You gotta mean it, Frank,” she says, voice watery. “You better fucking mean it.”

“I mean it. I swear to Christ, I mean it.”

She pulls her hand away and for a millisecond, he thinks he’s said something wrong. Then she’s unbuckling her seat belt and clamoring over the armrest into his lap. It’s not the most majestic first kiss he’s ever had (of which there are few) but her breath is hot on his lips and her fingernails scrape gently over his scalp as if entreating him closer. Frank makes a low groan that he hasn’t heard from himself in a long time--too long--and then Karen shifts and his breath catches in his throat. The heat of her, all wrapped up in his arms, her hair falling over one shoulder as she peppers his mouth, his cheeks, his jaw with the tiniest of kisses.

He could have ruined this without even knowing. He almost ruined it before it even happened.

“I do want you, you know,” Karen murmurs against the skin of his jaw, fingers grasping his shirt. “All of you.”

“I know.”

“Does that scare you?”

He pushes gently until he can look her in the eyes. “A little,” he admits. “I don’t wanna fuck this up.”

“You’re doing okay so far,” she says, smiling. “Now that you’ve pulled your self-deprecating head out of your ass.”

“Took me long enough.” He cradles the back of her head in one hand, drawing her closer until their lips meet again. They’re both uncomfortable at the weird angle but it’s not until the horn beeps once, gaining the attention of a woman walking her dog, that Karen reluctantly returns to her seat.

They work to catch their breaths, watching the water.

“The Liebermans aren’t upset I left so--...abruptly, right?”

“Nah,” Frank chuckles, grasping her hand. He finds an indescribable amount of comfort in brushing his thumb over the ridges over her knuckles. “Actually, I think they like you better for it. Sarah almost chased me out of the house with a goddamn spatula.”

“I knew I liked her. Take me home? I’ll make coffee.”

“It’s a date.”

--

Frank’s phone lights up that night. If he were to reach an arm over and hold it up to see, David’s text would read, WELL?? Did you get the girl, Lloyd Dobler?

But he doesn’t. He tugs Karen closer and goes back to sleep.

[ariyadaivaris]

- christ i hate smug mma dudes more than anything on this earth. you're a man doing mma what do you have to be excited about? washing out of ufc and having to resort to a dying professional wrestling company? the systematic oppression of women? the paul brothers? i'm putting nails in your shoes

- the rare and coveted tshirt ariya. phwew he's really uh. he's very. twirls hair. he's kinda

- ariya using a rose metaphor for himself teehee i love being very smart and always right about everything

- "i guess you don't think tony can do it on his own aye" is soooooo so so far from anything that has ever happened between tony and ariya that it's LAUGHABLE. ariya deserves to laugh in his face. cringe and fail broadway-musical-rock-of-ages-male-lead-understudy looking little man. no i'm gonna argue with the kayfabe enemy actually the WHOLE THING up to this point has been ariya trying to prove himself and the subtle tension of tony becoming champion where ariya never has, the only the ONLY time ariya has ever not believed in tony is when he had a full on spiral breakdown towards the beginning of the year when they were questioning splitting them up again for some fucking reason and then it got retconned because DUHHHHHH why would you ever split tony and ariya up just for fun or a giggle when they;ve got the most complex relationship on 205 if you re*you walk away knowing all of this already because you have heard this every week for the last three years but you can still hear me talking in the distance, talking and talking though no one is there...*

- obsessed with this promo actually...ariya's mannerisms are so good he's SO...FUN. i LOVE watching him. he is so self-assured and so charming and there is so obviously so much frustration buried like, an INCH deep beneath all of it. it takes grey pushing him ONCE for him to lose his verve. im SO interested in this

- the thread here is, of course, "you think tony can't do it on his own?" which, as i've stated, is so far from true or what ariya thinks that it's comic. when ariya spits, "of COURSE tony nese can do it on his own", there are a lot of factors at play. when he concedes that maybe instead of going out there, he WILL stay backstage, there's a lot going on there!!! there IS!!! *voice of an unwell person* there IS a lot going on   - tony doesn't need to prove he can do it on his own, because he already has. ariya's storyline...like i mentioned, he had a weird moment at the beginning of the year, when it seemed like maybe he and tony were going to be split up. that was very much a moment of "okay the writing might change so it's time to set something up" of course but i think it's interesting to think about as a character impulse.   ariya is working to prove he can do things on his own. this has BEEN his thing. he and tony are a team again, but ariya's tried to win with other teams and he's tried to win alone, and though he's successful more often than 205 would have you believe, he's still very shaky. tony has been allowed to work outside of the orbit of other people, and ariya hasn't gotten that chance as much. and, besides that, tony doesn't CARE about it in the same way ariya does. tony...when he gets intense, it's about interpersonal stuff. drew, buddy, cedric, akira, swerve. tony competes with people! ariya competes with himself. does that make sense. i know what i mean. its fine   ariya...is on edge. he likes tony and he likes working with tony, but he hasn't been a competitor like tony is. tony's been very accomodating, stepping back or supporting ariya's feuds and allowing him to do What He Needs To Do, which means ariya can try to work alone without going completely rogue and sabotaging shit. when he tried to cut himself off from tony, it was...well it was retconned. but. that's what he's done before and this time it didn't work because ONE it's just tony and ariya, there's no exacerbating force, and TWO, tony and ariya are, after all, friends. tony wants to be friends with ariya and it is hard work to be friends with ariya but he will do it. so they work it out. and ariya is left feeling very very weird about it, and very very aware of how much he kind of depends on tony, when tony doesn't depend on him, at all. ariya tries to protect tony and gas him up and keep an eye on him to make up for All That He's Done Before and to feel like this friendship is two-sided (which it is, of course, friendship is more than a strategic advantage but that's how ariya's always approached it and it's a hard habit to break), but he doesn't have the wins to back up the feeling of being Worth It as a friend.   it's...i feel like i just sound out of my gourd saying all of this lol and i am. but when ariya bitterly says, "of course tony nese can do it on his own." it's not just the anger at grey being a dickhead towards tony. it's also ariya being painfully aware that tony can do it without ariya's help. there's a threat in that statement, that question that doesn't need to be asked. there's an irony to it. its...think about it this way: if tony was talking to grey about watching ariya's match, grey wouldn't snark about if tony thought ariya could do it. you know?

- that doesnt make sense. whatever <3 im free

- wow love seeing kushida defending the title. imagine if that happened.....on.......205 live

- ariya literally getting successfully talked out of watching tony's match because he wants to show he believes in tony :( i'm hurt...i'm so hurt. so fucked up and twisted. by GREY too, ariya has kind of a BIT with grey huh. him cheating to pin ariya and then going noooo cheating is wrong against all other opponents. the way grey is super hypocritical and shitty to him and then to no one else. ariya almost respecting him for what ariya understands as Someone Who Gets It and then revealing oh no i just really don't like you and want to piss you off. this one dude who keeps targetting ariya specifically in all the ways that most drive ariya into a frenzy and he managed to hit him where it hurts the most enough to drive him into hiding. oughhhh aughhhh   - everyone on 205 being a hater for no reason and seeing ariya trying to deal with his Issues(TM): hm. i can make him worse

- SUNFLOWER JACKET!!!!!!!! SUNFLOWER JIRO. PRECIOUS AND BELOVED. KING AMONG ALL CRUISERWEIGHTS. I DONT KNOW WHO ARIYA IS

- the exaggerated "BOO!""YAY!" cheers for jiro. who am i to say he doesn't deserve them. he DOES. we LOVE jiro. jiro is allowed to homewreck gold standard if he wants to i'll pretend not to see

- UNBREAKABLE!! AUGHHH HE'S SO COOL AND FUN AND HIS MIND IS SIMPLY BEAUTIFUL. jiro has such a fucking bonkers sense of like...dragging a move out. that man can MAKE a sequence! he gets the upper hand and he holds onto it for ages and the entire time its never dull. always with the momentum! always with the visualization of everything around him and how to make it into a show. i just simply think that jiro kuroshio

- HE'S DYINGGGGGGG NOOOOOOOO JIRO. TONY NESE YOU'RE A DEAD MAN. he looks great at this angle though love you weirdo. oh NO your jacket is NOT cool enough to pull this off fkshsdskd  - jiro injecting some MUCH needed humor back into 205 thank you so much

- tony's stupid joth uniform next to jiro's sunflower pattern is SO good. fuckin goth v prep diagram dynamic. creamsicle blogging moments

- OH I LOVE A GOOD PIN. we LOVE a good pin don't we. that kick to tony on the apron ROCKS

- clearly you don't own an air fryer...

- OH HIS FORM IS FUCKING UNREAL. WHAT THE HELL!!!!!!!!!! JIRO KUROSHIO BABEY

- i REALLY like this match. this is 205 to me

- IS THAT A 205 CHANT??? IS THAT A 205 CHANT I HEAR??? OH????? WORM????? ITS BEEN LIFETIMES....................

- ooohohohoohohHOOO tony's recovery from the moonsault. that was. dare i say. Epic

- JIROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

- jiro treating mister nese like a little football. sorry anthony. perhaps you should just be cooler <3

- THAT WAS SO FUN......what a meaty episode this week. harkens back to 205 of old.............i love it. im loving this energy. jiro kuroshio you are going to save 205 i believe it

[eerythingisshaka]

The Bodyguard

[Jason Momoa x Reader]

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: no smut, but does discuss an attempted drugging

His fingers dig into your arm painfully as you try to release yourself from the stranger’s grasp.

“Fuck off and let go of me!”  you yell at him as loud as you can but the club’s music drowns your voice out from others around you being able to hear your distress.  

When he takes you past security up  front, he gives them a smile that at first won you over.

“Can you believe chicks these days?  Wanna party all night long when their kid is up waiting for them.  Let’s go hun!”  The brawny security guard looks from him to you suspiciously but lets you both pass without incident.  Out on the street, you kick him in the knee, finally getting freedom as he bounces off rubbing his bruised joint.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!”  he shouts at you with anger in his eyes.  

You root around your clutch for your phone, shaking to open it up.  “I’m not the one with the problem.  I know you put something in my drink.  I’m not stupid!”

This catches the attention of the security guard you passed in front of the club.

“Hey Carlos, come work the door, I have a disturbance to check out.”  He walks up to your side.  “Is he causing your problems, ma’am?”

You hold your phone to your ear waiting in 911 to pick up.  “Yes!  He is a fucking pervert who wants to fuck unconcious women!”

The guy looks nervous;y around him.  “Hey, shut up!  I don’t even know you for you to accuse me-”

“He bought me a drink and thought I wasn’t looking but something was floating in it when I almost took a sip.  I gave it to the bartender and had them call the cops.  Fuckface can’t stir, stupid bitch!”

The guy walks up to you pointing at your face.  “You’re gonna quit fucking talking to me like that or-”

The security guard, lays out a long strong arm in front of you, cutting him off.  “You wanna try that with me first man?”

He looks up at security with annoyance.  “I’m not talking to you, George of the Jungle, I’m talking to this b-”

Just as 911 began to ask what was your emergency, security had him by his throat, walking him away from you.

“You talk a lot for a little guy.  And I don’t have a lot of patience for talk.  So since my shift is ending soon, I’d like to end it without incident.  Do you wanna create one?”

Security drops him to the ground to writhe like a slug on salt.  

You hang up on 911 and run up on the pervert, kicking him for good measure.  “How you like not breathing when you want to BITCH!  You’re a damn piece of shit, stay down!”

Security pulls you back gently but you rear back from his touch, causing him to retreat.

“I’m on your side.  But you can’t beat his ass here, plus cops are on the way.”

On cue, you hear the whir of sirens far off, but getting louder by the second.  

“Shit!  I can’t get a ride in time before the cops get here.”

Security looks back at his buddy Carlos working the door and gives him a thumbs up, which he returns.

He looks back at you tentatively.  “Feel free to say no but-”

“Can you give me a ride?  Just to get me out of here before the cops get here.”

He blinks a couple times taken aback but mutters in agreement.  You turn back to the pervert and kick him once more before running off ahead.

“Hey!  My truck’s around back!”  he yells after you.

Riding passenger to his pick up you sit closest to the window as possible, nearly facing him.  He’s clearly unnerved as he drives, gripping the steering wheel tight.  You notice the geometric tattoo poking from under his leather moto sleeve, snapshotting it in your memory.  Brownish hair with some scarce light pieces grown naturally throughout.  You lean over slightly and notice a scar in his brow that is a unique identifier-

“Could you stop looking at me like that?”  he asks coarsely.  

You squint at him suspiciously.  “After the night I’ve had?   It’s just a precaution.”

“You know where I work, they know me and that I’m with you.  You have a paper trail, I wouldn’t risk shit like that dickhead back there.”

You raise your chin defensively.  “So if I didn’t have a paper trail, you would consider it?”

“What?!”  he looks at you incredulously.

You pop a finger in his face.  “So you can take me home and just do whatever!  They say the most likely serial killers are the good looking ones.”

He rolls his eyes.  “A backhanded compliment, thanks.  And you haven’t told me where you live yet.  I’ve been driving for 15 minutes and you refuse to give it to me.”

You turn to face the road now.  “I don’t want you to know where I live.”

“Trust me, I’d rather not either, but I’m trying to be nice here.”

“How about I go to yours, just for the night?”

You feel the truck jerk off the side of the road as he parks it abruptly.  He turns to you, glaring with fire in his eyes.  “You can catch a cab right here, I don’t have time for this.”

“No wait!  I don’t mean like that!  I just can’t go home!  Please!”  you say pleading with him.

“What do you mean you can’t?”  he asks.

You fall back into your seat pitifully.  “I dropped my keys back in the club...swinging my purse at the guy who spike my drink.  I can’t call for a replacement until the morning...”

Security leans back, looking toward out his window you can’t read his expression but his body read tired as his broad shoulders melted down from their defensive mode.

He starts the truck back up.  “Fine, but daylight is in four hours: you call a cab and you’re out of there.”

You breathe a sigh of relief.  “Thanks!  I won’t impose on a thing.  What’s your name by the way?”

He sits there quietly, streetlights rolling over his face ominously.  “You need that for your police report?”

“Well maybe…”

“Come on!”

“No I mean with the guy spiking drinks back there, not you and what you’re possibly capable of but I’m not accusing you.”

“Jason,”  he says.  You share yours with a handshake.

You enter his apartment hesitantly.  It has a rustic feel with a lot of old metal works decorations and natural wood furniture.

“You live alone?”  you ask.

“Yes, so you can have the couch.  Do you need anything before I break myself down for the night?”

You plop on the couch, taking off your shoes.  “Got any bottled water?”

“Plastic is ruining the environment and its inhabitants.”  He digs into the fridge and hands you a can.  “Aluminum is much  more sustainable.”

You open the can and take a sip.  “Thanks but isn’t plastic recyclable?”

“Not nearly as much as aluminum.  Now if you’ll excuse me…”  He walks off to the back room as you settle into the sofa sipping your water.  Your phone beeps warning you that it needs recharging.  Your eyes catch a vacant cord in a corner outlet.  Luckily it fits your phone as it beeps happily.

Sitting back down you finish your water and look around your surroundings. 

“No TV?”  you say, judging his choices.  He probably has a big ego to match his huge stature.

You look through your phone a little bit to mindlessly scroll social media until you feel an urge to pee.  Jason hasn’t come out of his room, he might be asleep.  Not wanting to wake him, you tiptoe to find which door most likely led to the bathroom, turning a promising knob.  

Opening the door, your nostrils are hit with a sweet smell of bath oils and the sight of a man reading in his bubble bath with pink scrunchies catches you off guard.

“What are you doing?!”  he howls.

You can barely compute as you slowly smile at the picture in front of you.  “Your pigtails are the cutest!”

“Get out!”  he growls, adjusting the bubbles to ensure he is at least modest in front of you.  You close the door and giggle to yourself until you remember your main goal.

“I’m sorry, but I have to pee!”  You knock on the door so he knows you’re serious but you’re glad there’s no glass because you are still clearly amused.  A big man in a bubble bath is just too rich.

“Give me a minute!”  he says.  You hear water sloshing around and silence until the door opens on you.  Your face lands on his soft pink tshirt covering his firm chest.  

“It’s all you,” he says in a monotone, letting you by as he made his way to his kitchen. 

When you come back out, he is sitting with beer, looking up at you.  “Want one?”

You shake your head.  “I had enough to drink today.”

He takes a healthy glug from the stein.  “Well, I haven’t started yet.”  

You sit across from him, feeling awkward.  He looks at you curiously.  “So what happened with that guy anyway?”

“At the club?  Just same old stuff.  Guy says hi, gives a compliment, and offers a drink.  He was a great conversationalist, just rattling on about what he does and how beautiful I am but then he tried to say he knew the owner and pointed him out to me.  I looked behind me but I didn’t know what he looked like, so when I turned back to ask, he looked like he just moved and was posed unnaturally.  I asked him what the owner looked like but he brushed off my question to raise his glass up with mine, cheersing to a good night, but this film was on top of my drink and all hell broke loose.”

“Fuck that scum,” he says, taking another drink.

“Exactly.  So I hand it to the bartender and told them to save it and call 911.  He may not have heard me but when the bartender didn’t dump it, he got pissed, grabbing my arm asking what I said.”

“Where was he taking you?” Jason asks.

You shrug.  “I don’t even want to think about it, I have no idea but I wasn’t going to go no way.  Thanks for stepping in when you did.”

Jason wipes his beard of the excess beer.  “I’m just glad you spoke up and got attention on him.  If I wasn’t on the clock, that guy would’ve been in the dumpster with the rest of the trash.”

You think back to the moment, getting dragged and the pain in your arm.  You lift your arm and see some purpling form on your bicep and Jason notices.

“Let me get ice for that.”  He makes an ice bag with a dishrag and loads it up with cubes.  You lay your arm down on the table for him to place the ice on your inner arm.

“Hold it there.  Does it still hurt?”

You shake your head.  “But I’m sure in the morning it will.”

“Yeah that’s gonna be nasty, but the ice will lessen it.”

“Thanks again, for the help.”

“Please don’t mention it.  I just wish there were less dipshits on the street messing unsuspecting people.”

You nod, and feel a yawn coming on.  “I think it’s about time I try to catch some Zs.  I have, what, 3 hours left?”

Jason puts his stein in the sink.  “Don’t worry about it.  I don’t work until night again so just rest.  I was high strung back there when I said that.” 

“I get it, but really, I’ll be out on time.”  You get up, adjusting your dress and head for the couch.

“Do you want a shirt and shorts or something?  You’ll be swimming in it but it has to be more comfortable than your night look.”

You mull it over.  “Uh, a tshirt would be good.”

Jason goes back to his bedroom for a minute,coming out with a black Slayer tee.  

He tells you good night, closing his bedroom door as you peel off the hot pink bandage dress that peels slowly off your body like a second skin.  You feel like a new woman slipping on the tshirt, fitting you perfectly loose for comfort, smelling Jason’s musk embedded in its threads.  You lay out on the couch with the ice under your arm as sleep swept you away.

---

You wake up slowly to the smell of food wafting in the air.  You stretch, inhaling the heavenly smell, almost forgetting until you opened your eyes that the place you slept was not your own.

You wince at the awareness of your arm as you sit up and see your burly friend over the stove, 

“Good morning!  Breakfast is about ready,”  he says in a jovial manner.  You get up and take your phone off the charger, reading the time as 11:47 am.

“Shit!  I overslept!”  you say, gathering your dress and shoes.  “I’ll give this shirt back.  I need it for the ride back to my place.”

Jason looks disappointed as he lays out some eggs on a plate.  “No, I said you didn’t have to worry about that!   You need food, come on, eat.”

He sits down, shoveling a forkful into his mouth waving you over.  

“It does...smell great.”  He smiles, handing you a plate to help yourself to eggs, sausage and toast.

“I didn’t get this size by skipping meals, little lady.  And breakfast is best after a night out.”

You reach over for a piece of toast but the ache of your arm holds you back.  Jason takes your wrist gently, rolling up the shirt sleeve to study your bruise.  

“Yeah, they look worse as they get better.”  He gives it a gentle rub before returning to his plate.  “So you survived the night?”

“Yeah, that is a good couch.”

“Good, I’m glad.”

You swallow some juice, taking a couple bites of egg.  “Sorry again for imposing.  I’ll blame my previous drink on that boldness.  I don’t do this often.”

He shrugs.  “I don’t bring strange women home after work either, just so you know.”

You smile.  “Well luckily I’m not strange.”

His eyes widen as he locks his jaw.

“You think I’m strange?!”

He lifts his juice glass.  “I meant that I don’t shit where I sleep.  I respect boundaries.”

You feel slightly disappointed with this information.  “Oh, well thank you.  I am glad I got a glimpse of the man behind the leather and toughness.  Bubbles and pigtails, I just can’t!”

“And I’m not apologizing for it lady, so tough shit!  A man can enjoy the finer things in life.”

“You bet your ass you can.  You earned it.”

You fill up no breakfast enough to get you going and get ready to go.

“I’m ordering my car now...coming in 2 minutes.”  

Jason stands at his front door with you, hands dug in his black and white horizontal striped pants.  “Ok, I’ll just see you off.”

“You don’t have to.  You’ve already done a lot,” you assure him.

Jason shakes his head.  “I want to.”

Silence passes through the two of you as you wait.  Seeing him in the daylight for the first time, he doesn’t look so serial killer scary as you once thought.  His wavy brown hair looks heavenly and less wild man.  Even the scar above his eye has character.  

“How’d you get that?”  You point at his face.

“What?” he asks, rubbing his face.  “Is there some egg on my face?”

“No, here.”  You step up to him and reach his brow carefully.  “Right there.”

The softness of his brow welcomed your touch as you lightly stroked the area.  Jason’s eyes glisten innocently at you, never once flinching under your hand.  He doesn’t say anything, and you’re glad.  You willed him in your mind to take hold of your hips and pull you to him-

Beep Beep

Your notification ring tolls that your ride has arrived.  You look at your phone and into the parking lot.  

“I guess that’s my cue,” you say in a monotone, walking off slowly.

“Hey wait!” he calls after you. 

You turn to him quickly.  “Yeah?”

His mouth hangs on some words he wants to say but blurts out, “Make sure to keep some ice on that arm.”

You nod as your heart falls. 

“And if you happen to collect numbers, any chance you would want mine?”

You bite your lip running up to him to slap his arm.  “You think you are so sly, don’t you?”

“Like the Family Stone.  And I need to contact you for my shirt back, so don’t think you’re getting away that easy.”

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