#Victory Junction

[barbies1shots]

☆-fav big boy pushing you into a mean mating press? mating press, size kink, dub-con, small degradation, featuring BIG BOY KIRI♡, overstim ,(yk how i feel about this.)

getting straight to the point, big boy kiri would take every competition to heart. every challenge, every word, every action to heart. so when you first challenged him to make you tap out first? he took it and swore he would.

so now, with his body weight pushing you down, down till your knees were quite literally pressed into your chest, you couldn't even sputter out the words, 'I tap out.'

his torso itself locked you in place as he dragged his slutty hips in and out of your little cunt. he locked his fingers above your head so you couldn't squirm away from his brutal thrusts. his head hung low in the junction of your neck, listening to your half-sobs half-whimpers.

he heard you try and tell him that you came, that you came two times- no make it three now, but all he did was kiss his shark-like teeth and smile as he seemed to go even harder.

he turned his head as he panted into your hung one, his lips tugged into a menacing smirk. his victory went unnoticed. his large scarred hands took up your whole knee, and part of your thighs as he went and pinned you down with his body weight :( 250 lbs of pure muscle and fat.

his stroks were relentless, his fat, blunt head kissing your poor cervix with every jerk of his hips, every movement causing a sob- moan? choking its way from your throat. he put his weight behind his thrusts, making your body ludge yet stopped by his interlocked hands. every thrust had your toes curling next to his head as your mouth just hung wide open.

why play with fire when you know you just couldn't take him?

you felt something in your tummy, something mean and brutal push itself with every thrust, everytime his tip kissed your cervix it grew bigger and bigger. see, you tried to warn him you felt weird, that he needed to stop yet he kept fucking you like a miniature pocket pussy^^

you squirmed from under him, your hands scratching at bare skin, as you arched as best you can with his body weight on you. poor big boy kiri gasped in shock when he felt your juices spray him. wetting him down from his chest, to his thighs, and all the way down to the bed sheets. he smirked, rewarded yet kept going, ignoring your pain filled sobs and pleasure filled whines. ignoring your nails biting into your already scarred skin and your little bitch slaps. he ignored the pleads of him to slow down, of him to stop and give you a break get he just kept using you like the little fleshlight he deemed you are:((

if you wanted him to stop, you couldve used the safe word, right?

an: think i may change my writing style...

@aizawasbarb

[skyrigel]

Victory indeed || A.B

Pairing: Anthony bridgerton x wife!reader

Plot : You are on your way to steal the mallet of death but Anthony gets there first, change in plans— romancing lord Viscount.

Warning: NSFW content ahead!

Rigel's note🪩 : This is inspired from happily ever after, there's quite blood shed for mallet of death. Yeah Colin is love <3

The last bits of doubt left as you shifted Anthony's arm off your waist, slowly pushing your body down and further till you were out from his grip, he almost looked innocent, sleeping and bed soft, his mouth curled in a dream like smile but you knew better than that. last time Anthony, like lord Viscount he was, stole the pallet from your wardrobe.

And the year prior, Daphne showed her Bridgerton colors, involving the Duke himself in her malice plans.

You couldn't help but smile, thinking your bridgerton were showing up too, the floor was frozen underneath your step but you thought about the victory tommorow, the look on Anthony's face would be priceless, wrapping your cloak around yourself and closing the door soundlessly as you ventured out in the corridor, the moon was high and the air was chill. If inside the Aubrey hall was cold then you weren't up for the chill outside, a shiver ran down your spine as you stepped out in the moonlight, taking the back route, just in case. The shed stood there in the bleak light. You fiddled for keys and it didn't make sense when the wooden door was unlocked, maybe Johnny forgot to lock it, anyway, all more easy. The door creaked in the silence and you couldn't care less, there was nothing between you and your victory black mallet and—

Your breath was knocked out of you as if your lungs were punctured, a gasp of white mist left your mouth at the sight of your husband, leaning idly against the wall.

" I... Anthony?! " You blinked and unblinked and he was still there, smiling.

" What are you doing here wifey ? " He cooed and it didn't help the terror that seized you.

" You knew ! " You hoped it wasn't as shaking like it felt in your throat, Anthony ran a hand through his hair and it all made sense, damn his dreamlike smile, damn you lord Viscount.

" You wound me baby, do you want me to tie you until the game tommorow, tell me, would you like that ? " He smiled all the while, faking a frown as he narrowed his eyes to your silhouette in dark.

" So you would guard the mallet all night ? " You wouldn't let Anthony win this time, it was coming on your pride now, also the love making that followed where he called you all those petty names. The last he called you runner up. No, you would win this time.

" Or I could tie you up, I like that better." Anthony suggested smugly, propping on top of the desk and flashing an erotic display of thigh, change of plans.

" My lord..." You whsipered, all seduction placed in one basket and all smugness was dropped when Anthony's lips parted.

" Do.not." he shuddered but you hit the nerve, moving slowly in your shaking steps, cloak dangling behind you.

" Anthony, these games are absurd. " You stiffled the laugh that burnt your chest, heart heaving and thudding inside your ribs.

It almost didn't work the last time you caught him stealing the mallet, Mrs.Wilson came at a very wrong time.

" It's not working." He assured, to himself mostly but his hand reached for your body all the same, betraying every word he said as he pulled you closer, face mere inches away.

He wrapped his big arms around your waist and cocked your head sideways.

" What about..." You paused, bumping your nose to his cheeks as he sniffed the moon shadow out of you, his lips tried to claim yours but you liked playing games. The ones you could win.

" About what ? " He asked breathless, his long slender fingers undoing the knot in frantic rushed movements. It was no use.

" I was thinking about...we don't have a daughter." You hoped nothing was drowned in the moan that left when Anthony bit at the junction of your neck and shoulder, he looked up with a glint, it was the most sincere set of eyes you had ever seen, also the lustiest.

Anthony could do both, have you screaming his name and worship you all the same.

" Take the mallet...take everything baby. " He kissed you, hard and crashing, like he couldn't get enough, you couldn't get enough and it became too restless for games and victory. Your body oozed with goosebumps and every single thought evaporated like mist and memories.

Anthony dropped the knot and pulled the cloak up from your head and you easily gave in, throwing your hands up as the satin fabric fell on the floor. Anthony hummed in desire.

You felt the cold air circling your body but as soon as Anthony's mouth kissed the exposed skin of you breast, it was gone, nothing mattered than him and his filthy demanding mouth.

" How beautiful you would look with our baby in your belly." He whispered against your skin and you shivered at the sensation.

His palm gripped your hips and lifted you on the desk, turning the dynamics and you cursed under your breath when his unholy fingers pinched your nipple, hard and raw.

" You like that ? " He breathed, undoing buttons of your nightdress like he was made for it, he was merciless sometimes, taking pleasure when you screamed his name and teasing you later, " so needy for me baby ? "

" An.. Anthony." You hoped he heard the plea, his thumb made circles in your inner thigh but never touching where you wanted him the most, " baby.." you buried your face in the crook of his neck and even so, you could hear the smile that crossed him, cocky and devilish.

" Say it wifey, say it nicely with your sweet mouth." He grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you back to face him, eyes locked as his head leaned down, his darted his tongue, pink and wet, the wonders he could did with that, he licked your one nipple while the other was tucked between his two fingers, pressing them together and you screamed, almost embarrassed but Anthony liked that, he always did.

" What's the word ? " He looked up smugly, pressing the tip of his nose to your nip, a smile quirking up. Fuck you Anthony!

Your brain short circuited as he tickled more and more and it became too much to bear.

" Plea... please baby, please, please —" he heard the plea and his mouth opened, taking in your soft flesh and humming in delight, kneading the other so it didn't miss his attention. He wasn't biased when it came to your body, giving everything his full attention and torment. You threw your head back at the sensation that vibratated in your body.

You grabbed his hand that glided on your bare thigh to guide him to touch you where you needed him the most, his teeth nibbed, not harder but enough to make your eyes watery as he slapped your hand away.

" You get the mallet, I get what I want, win win Viscountess." He kissed your cheek open mouthed and his desire was pressing hard against you.

" Fuck me." You said, flushed and dazed and Anthony eye's widened before he was back to play all lord and smug.

" You always order me so." He bit his lower lip but you had enough, fuck pall mall, fuck Anthony bridgerton, yes fuck him. Now.

" Fuck me Anthony! " You almost cried, Anthony leaned further, his forehead touching yours as he whispered,

" I wouldn't be able to sto—" don't stop, then.

You kissed him hard and soft, like fireworks wrecking your brain and you tongue traced his lower lip, intoxication wasted you.

He moaned and a strangled noise that you trapped in your mouth escaped, right from his throat.

His length was pressed against your thigh and it was warm and vibrating. You swallowed like a Virgin damsel.

Anthony looked at you, not breaking the fire that was blazing between your souls as he pulled it out his erection and there, angry red tip, sticky with pre cum was buzzing to be touched and loved and he looked up in delight when your eyes widened, all of the times, it didn't matter, it baffled you just the same.

You touched the tip and he shivered at the contact, his cock gave a twist and lurked fir more.

" Do you see ? " He was panting, shaking with his words as if he would fall if he didn't hold his breath, " see it ?! How much I burn for you, how much I want you ? " He shaked his head and touched his tip to your belly, soft and burning.

" No." He laughed humourlessly, his hand pushing your body to lie down on your back and you followed, taking a huge breath as Anthony grabbed your dangling ankle in a yank, bringing it around his neck.

He then kissed your knuckles softly, whsipering sweet nothings tenderly in your bones.

" I would give you anything my sweet love, you just have to ask...mallet ? I would give you my soul if you had asked. Anything for my baby love " He said, you felt your body tremor as he teased his tip at your insides, Anthony inhaled sharply as he entered you, warm and slick as oil. he entwined your fingers together.

" So good...so good for me baby." He moaned as he soft thrusted once, twice and until you were numb for anything, his words were halo in the dark, beaming silvery glow and then came one hard push and you arched your back as the pain waved in pleasure.

" Anthony..." You moaned, " oh god ! " Your words mingled in blasphemy and Anthony smiled in victory, pushing harder and harder as your hips rocked and roll.

" Say my name...say it." He demanded, your nails gripping at his shoulder so hard that it would scar, he liked it.

" Anthony...oh lord... Anthony." You screamed and chanted and you believed he heard the worship, the fate you had in him, and it didn't matter if anyone listened, let them, you thought, Anthony was a force to be reckoned with, a storm you never minded to be wrecked in. A beak of sweat glided from his forehead and dropped on your belly.

He was still pushing in a angle that had you seeing stars and cosmic love, he bend down, licking it, tongue gliding across your skin, and sniffing, taking in everything your offered.

He wanted all of you.

" I will fill you up with our baby, next time don't go hunting for mallet in midnight...it's so cold Darling, i would have to tie you up," He kissed your stomach bump, " and would carry you around everywhere." He said in dreamily haze that soon took over your lids.

The only sounds were erotic slapping of skin against skin and shuddering breaths, and he fastened his movements as a war cry took him over like a devil.

You head was thrown back as everything collapsed and grew again, bit by bit. Your eyelids drooped and a muffled cry came from you and then it was Anthony as he came in warm fizzy juice. Your felt the knot inside you uncoil and something loose inside you, uncorked as your juices mingled like your souls.

He pushed one more time, he always did that and then he collapsed next to you, satisfied, kissing your already bruised neck sweetly.

" Wouldn't you like that mama ? " He chorused and you laughed like a drunk, you would, a daughter with Anthony's eyes and smile, you smiled at the thought.

" Let's clean you up and take you to bed my lady." Anthony picked you, kissing you again as you giggled, he then grabbed the cloak and covered your body against the cold, you were dazed but not quite forgotten, you eyes searched for the war prize. Your mouth fell open, second time in a very same night.

" Where's the mallet ? " You narrowed your eyes at the stock of pink and blue and yellow but the black wasn't there, perhaps a trick of light.

Anthony followed your eyes and went closer, your arms wrapped around his shoulder and there, beneath the shadows was a parchment, rich and fresh.

Anthony picked it up with one hand, the other keeping you steady in his arms.

You saw the lanky words that belonged to none other than Mr. Bridgerton.

" Damn you Colin! " You growled as the mockful apology was scribbled for stealing the black mallet.

Anthony perched his lips at the heist but smiled when your whining eyes met his.

" I am going to whoop his ass and get you the mallet baby." He said, and you knew he will.

Victory indeed.

_________________________________________

Uhm Benedict bridgerton next ? Send in request ladies <3

[themultifanshipper]

can you write something with driver!reader x max with 🔵?

You and Max had been hovering around each other for months. Making each other jealous to try and get the other to do something about it. It had turned into a sick little game of who would crack first.

Tonight you'd gone a step too far and gotten a bit too close with his friend.

Warnings: Ferrari!reader, jealousy, angry max, drinking, smut, choking, rough sex, crying, fingering, bickering, rivals to lovers, Lando as a plot device, cliches, I'm sorry this is probably not my best work but I put everything I had into this so enjoy :3

requested from my prompt list

The bass was pumping through the walls of the club where you had decided to celebrate your victory. P1 baby! And with Ferrari back on their A game, you and Charles both got a podium with Lando on the second step, while Max just went back to his driver's room seething with rage after a penalty left him p5.

It felt amazing to finally be on top and you dragged your best drinking buddy Lando to the club as soon as possible for a night of wild celebration and many, many drinks that people had bought you.

Lando knew the game you were trying to play with Max, you were just using him to make Max jealous, but he would be damned if he didn’t take full advantage of the opportunity.

And you certainly weren’t going to refuse the advances of Lando Norris, one of the sexiest men you’d ever laid eyes on.

That’s how you ended up with him gripping your hips as he moved them to the beat, one thigh slotted between yours as you ground against each other, losing yourself as his lips made their way across your jaw, to the junction between your neck and your ear, your eyes closing, body lost in the pleasurable sensation.

You two danced for so long that you’d almost forgotten your game, when the feeling of Lando’s heated skin was suddenly ripped away from your greedy hands.

Before your alcohol-addled brain could register what was happening you were being dragged out of the club and into the street.

You vaguely registered Max hailing a taxi and getting you back to the hotel.

He all but threw you into a room before locking the door behind him. You barely remember getting there, but you were in a hotel room that clearly wasn't your own, red bull branded clothes strewn all over the place.

“What the fuck was that?” he asked, shaking with barely contained anger.

“What?” You batted your eyelashes in faux-innocence “Am I not allowed to celebrate my hard earned win?”

“Not by crawling all over my friends like a slut”

“They're my friends too, Max, I can do what I want with them”

That seemed to make him hesitate, but his anger came back full force as soon as the image of Lando's greedy hands all over you flashed through his mind.

“Stop fucking around in front of me”

“And why should I do that, it's not like you have the balls to do anything, and I have needs, Max” You were getting bolder by the minute, partly because of the alcohol, but also because you were sick of the games.

“Like that fucking kid could ever satisfy you” he scoffed, you just smirked.

“Oh I don't know, he seemed pretty eager to please in the club, maybe I could go back and find out if it was just his phone I could feel in his pocket, it felt pretty satisfactory to me…”

“Stop fucking talking about Lando!” he growled and stepped closer to you unconsciously.

“Come over here and make me, coward”

That's what made him lose it. Max Verstappen was a lot of things, but he never ran away from what he wanted.

You ended up propped up against the wall, Max was knuckle deep inside you and you knew you weren’t going to last long. You didn’t know how it was possible for him to find the spot that made your knees buckle so fast, but he brought you to the edge of extasy in no time, only to stop just as you were about to reach the precipice.

You whined and clawed at his shoulders, but he just grabbed your wrists and held them above your head.

“Say you’re fucking mine. Say I’m the only one who’s allowed to have you like this…”

His lips trailed down your neck, nipping and sucking at the skin. You couldn’t help but run your mouth a little bit more though.

“I think the British driver that got p2 today would disagree with that sentiment- “

His hand came up to swiftly wrap around your neck and squeeze, cutting you off.

“Don’t talk about him when I’ve got you dripping down your thighs just from a couple of fingers” he growled, other hand going to undo his belt to push his jeans and underwear down, just enough to free his cock from the constraints of his maddeningly tight jeans.

He roughly dragged you to the bed, turning you around and pushing you down so hard you had to put your hands out to catch your fall.

“Going to make you take my cock and prove to you I’m the only one who can make you scream for me.”

You were certainly wet enough, and he didn’t give you any time to respond as he slid into you with unwavering strength.

Your arms gave out immediately and you fell face first into the sheets, struggling to breathe as he gripped your hips tight and immediately started a bruising pace with his hips.

Your whole body was on fire, not from any pain, but from the intensity of his cock pushing into your g-spot mercilessly, and you cried out as your orgasm crept up on you in record time.

He didn’t stop though, forcing you to endure his relentless pace and stamina and you quickly turned to mush, the pleasure coursing through you so intense that he had to hold you up by your hips.

He pulled out suddenly and the sudden emptiness sent your brain and body into a frenzy, babbling incoherent sounds that sounded like his name, and ‘please’.

Max turned you over onto your back and slid back into you, hooking your legs over his shoulders to deepen the angle, and to look at your face as he brought you the edge a second time.

You cried as the euphoria took over your body, his hands coming up to wipe the tears away from your cheeks and he came not long after, pumping you full and dropping his sweaty forehead onto yours.

Once you’d both come down from your highs, and you had regained the ability to speak, he looked into your eyes. All the anger from before had disappeared, and now he looked scared, terrified even. You just stared at each other, not knowing quite what to say after that.

After a while he finally plucked up the courage to ask “Can I kiss you? Please.”

You smiled and fresh tears (this time of joy) sprung to your eyes as your hands came up either side of his face.

“Yes, Max…” you whispered “kiss me, pl-”

Once again he cut you off, and his lips were softer than you ever could have imagined. It just felt right, the two of you, wrapped perfectly together like two pieces in a puzzle.

“I love you…” you murmured, breaking away for air.

It was his turn for tears to start forming as the relief washed over him that this wasn’t a one time thing, and that you truly felt the same way he did.

You both missed your alarms, and subsequent attempts by your teams to contact you, and therefore your flights.

“How the hell are we going to get back to Monaco, now?” he asked as you both sat in bed nursing hangovers.

“Well…” you said tentatively “I know someone who’s private jet is probably still here…”

He looked confused for a moment, then his eyes widened and he shrieked.

“Absolutely not! We are NOT flying with fucking Lando!”

Spoiler alert, you had no choice. This was going to be a long flight

I hope this lives up to your expectations even though it's a bit late :3

[weskie]

Sweet Dreams (Albert Wesker x afab!Reader)

18+ | somno, oral sex, penetrative sex, come eating, light angst, soft wesker, amab!reader version here | Fic Directory

This was hardly an uncommon occurrence anymore.  You’d given him permission long ago, but it always came as a surprise regardless.  Perhaps it was just… out of character.  Wesker’s so damn dignified all the time.  

The first time it happened, you woke to his greedy little slurps between your legs, his tongue all but desperately fucking in and out of your pussy until he slipped two fingers inside to coax your nectar free to sate his appetite.  He’d let out an amused, victorious hum when your thighs clamped around his head and you mewled the bliss of your release.  Wesker took you hard and fast that night, over and over until his eyelids grew heavy and he’d exhausted his inhuman stamina.

You’d talked about it the next day, of course.  You both enjoyed yourselves, so why not?  Turns out, this was the best thing to ever happen to your sex life.  Quality time with Albert was sparse, but time for ‘primitive pleasures,’ as he calls them, were even more so.  He’d often come to bed well after you’d fallen asleep, sometimes even leaving before you had the chance to wake in the morning.  Such was life.

Now, though?  Now he comes home and knows he can have his way with you.  He can wake up in the middle of the night and be as mischievous as he could possibly want.  Or as desperate.

“Nngh–”

Like tonight.

“H-Hah…”

His breaths fan hot against your neck and each pitiful noise is sung into your ear.  He thrusts slowly, each languid stroke just shallow enough to be kind.  He must be trying to let you stay asleep.  You smirk, weighing your options.  You could bring your legs up and around his waist, tug him closer, signal that it was okay to speed up and take what he needs.  Or… you could enjoy the show.  After all, you’ve never caught him like this.

He’s a sensual lover in every sense of the word, but you’ve never heard him be so vocal before.

“Mm, god…”  He mewls, tongue laving at your flesh as he grinds warm and wet in your aching core.  He locks his lips at the junction of your shoulder and suckles, teeth nibbling sweetly.  It sends shivers down your spine and you have to fight the urge to arch into it.  “F-Feels so, mmph…”  His speed increases bit by bit as his self control falters.  Fuck, you can practically see him even with your eyes shut.  Right about now, his eyes are probably glowing redder than ever.  Those cat-like pupils are probably blown wide.  He’s probably got his teeth bared and his nose scrunched the way he does when he’s holding back.

“M-Mine,” he whispers.  Grinding turns to sloppy ruts and fuck, you can’t take it anymore.

You open your eyes and find him exactly as you’d pictured him, but there’s something… different.  Something strange.  You thumb it away, thinking it to be a sweat drop, but another follows the same path and you realize he’s–

“Al..?”

“Mine.  Mine…” He gasps, face falling to your neck once more.  You bring your hand to his nape and curl your fingers there.  His thrusts grow messier by the second, but your pleasure had all but been eradicated the second you realized those were tears on his cheeks.  “You’re– you’re real.  Real,” Wesker pants weakly, “and mine!”

Your legs come up around him, guiding his motions, and you rake your fingers through his mussed hair.  “Shh, sweetheart.” You coo.  You’ve heard this song and dance before.  It’s been quite some time since he learned of his manufactured life, but there were still cracks in his seemingly impenetrable walls.  He fell apart back then.  Swore up and down after that it’d never happen again.  But sometimes…  “I’ve got you.”  Sometimes reality is harsher than even the strongest resolve.

He clings to you, arms wrapped around your midsection as he drives in hard and fast.  Squelches and wet slaps ring out in tandem with his whines, and then the telltale circular grinding starts and–

“Oh god!”

His teeth sink into your shoulder and you keen at the sharp sting.  His whole body locks like a board against yours, muscles flexed and breath held tight until its staleness overpowers him into a loud exhale and desperate, shuddering gulps of air.  You pepper kisses against the side of his head as best you can. His hands grasp your thighs.

Wesker pushes against you slowly, milking the last ebb and flow of bliss from his climax.  He falls limp against you and, after some time, you’re almost convinced he’s fallen asleep, but then he lifts himself just enough to press lazy wet kisses to your lips.  He suckles your lower lip sweetly, giving it the softest nip before letting off and moving down, littering more affections to every inch.  Neck, collarbones, chest, navel– the only complaint you’ve got is that he had to slip out to keep going, but you figure the trade off was perfectly fine when those lips wrap around your clit and–

“Al!”  You gasp, incisor sinking into your lower lip, hands coming down to thread in his silky locks, petting and pulling.  “You– you don’t have to– mmph!”  Your head falls back and you see stars.  Fuck, he’d gotten you all stirred up before and he’s got you back there in mere moments.  Each drag of his tongue erupts your flesh in goosebumps, and then–  “I– oh fuck!”  He slurps your cunt loudly and you know exactly what he’s after.  The thought alone is enough to make you buck against him, but then those long fingers of his find their way inside and you keen and whine and cry out for him over and over again.

“Mine.” He groans against you.

He coaxes your sweet spot with gentle curling motions, but you know it’s more than that.  This isn’t just him seeking to ensure you get yours.  No.  Right now, he’s eating the proof of your love from between your legs and savoring the salty sweet taste of your combined juices.  Each swipe of his fingers draws his seed from deep within and he moans with every tantalizing taste.  

The thought alone is enough to put you right on the doorstep of a mind blowing orgasm, but it’s his noises that drive you over the edge entirely.  Bucking and whining and mewling, you cry out his name and gasp your love into the air.  But he doesn’t stop. His tongue rubs circles to your bud over and over again, switching out to suckle and swirl and slurp more of you until you’re so overstimulated that the only thing you can do is moan and push his face away from your aching cunt.

His lips are back on yours in a flash, tongue licking your own taste into your mouth.  His fingers lace with yours and draw your hands up over your head.  Wesker pulls away just enough to observe you, but he doesn’t flash that typical smirk of his.  There’s no victory plastered on his face.  No smugness.

Instead, he smiles sweetly and shifts to lay beside you, tugging your body to fit against his like a puzzle piece.  “I do rather like this new rule of ours,” he murmurs against the nape of your neck. “Thank you, my dear…”

You hum and turn in his hold, letting your hand trail up the length of his arm.  “You okay?”  Sure, it kills the afterglow a bit.  And yes, he’s going to deny having been upset earlier.  It’s what he does.  But you can’t ignore that it happened.

“...yes.”  He lies.  “My apologies for waking you.”

You sigh and give him your usual look so he knows that you know better.  “I love you,” you say, craning your neck to press a featherlight kiss to the corner of his mouth.  “That’s always real… I promise.”

He regards you with a set jaw and pained eyes, but ultimately presses a firm kiss to your forehead.  “Sleep,” he huffs. “You talk far too much.”

You giggle and nuzzle his chest, content to do as he commands.  Besides, you know that’s how he says it back.

[batllethinker]

Bathroom | L.Williamson

Pairing: Leah Williamson + afab reader

Summary: Spending your night in a dingy bar wasn't how you expected to spend your time, even if it was to celebrate your girlfriends latest victory. You couldn't find it in yourself to care when Leah always made it up to you.

Warnings: alcohol, semi-public sex, celebratory sex, fingering, oral, top!Leah, pwp, petnames (R) | 18+ mdni

You sighed as you watched your girlfriend chatting it up with the random patrons of the bar you two decided to inhibit as a small, private celebration (if you count out her teammates and all of her fans).

You leaned back against the bar, taking small sips of your drink as you watched Leah stand on the small stage in the front, her smile was infectious even when it was not directed at you. She went through all of the team cheers, which were repeated back to her by an overly enthusiastic crowd.

Then her eyes met yours and she lit up even more, a hand reaching out for you despite the distance seperating you two and you chuckled despite yourself, loving her cheesy moments more than everything.

It didn't take long before she exused herself from the stage and made her way over to you, a bright smile on her face, one that hasn't left her face the whole night.

"Are you having fun?" You mulled the question over for a moment, you knew that you would have more fun if she actually spent her time with you even if you enjoyed seeing her like this.

"I would have more fun if my girlfriend spent some time with me" You shot her a pointed look as her smile dropped and she sighed in expatriation, the blonde leaned closer to you, a teasing glint in her eyes as she eyed you for a quick second.

"Is my baby feeling needy? Is that it?" Your eyes widened just a fraction as a pout painted your lips, giving her the perfect puppy eyes in hopes of getting what you wanted.

Leah rolled her eyes, and you knew that you had won, especially as she grabbed your forearm and dragged you to the restroom, pushing you into one of the stalls as she followed closely behind.

You were pushed against the stall doors without another word as Leah dropped to her knees, not caring about how she probably was ruining her expensive pants.

A needy sigh left you as you met the other woman's dark eyes, the sight of her on her knees was one you could never get enough of.

Leah chuckled darkly as her hands ran up your thighs, reaching under your skirt to pull your panties down your legs before pushing your skirt up enough to fully see you.

"God baby, you're soaked" You whined in embarrassment, your hand coming to nestle in the blondes hair.

She smiled up at you as she ran a finger through your folds, a sense of satisfaction washing over her as she heard your breath falter, your hips already bucking against her.

Leah soon replaced that finger with her tongue, humming at the taste of you as she ran it through your folds before lapping at your clit, her hands moving to pin your hips against the door.

You whined and writhed in her grasp, trying desperately to chase the feeling of Leah against you to no avail.

She smirked against you as she moved a hand to instead push a finger into you, loving how you instantly clenched down against her before letting her pump into you.

It wasn't long before she pressed a second finger into you and started to earnestly fuck you, her pace hard and fast.

You could barely hold yourself upright as you bucked against her fingers, the feeling of her fucking you alongside her tongue lapping at your clit was enough to send you over the edge.

You came with a loud moan, hips bucking wildly against Leah as she fucked you through your orgasm, her movements easing up with a last kiss to your pussy.

You shifted slightly as she pulled out of you and got off of her knees to give you a bruising kiss, smiling against your lips when you could barely keep up.

"We should get back out" she pressed a soft kiss to the junction of your neck as you nodded, doing your best to get your bearings as you held tightly onto her hand.

[uranium235s]

it occurs to me I've actually never done anything to introduce my courier despite posting about him 400 times I just kinda made everyone witness him so here's some basic stuff + his lore under the cut (long and probably very boring post incoming)

chester was born in Utah and lived there til he was almost a teenager when the Legion swept through his village and took him as a slave. his parents were much older, and were killed, and his other family (older brother) had left for California some months prior, leaving chester the sole support of his family. he does not remember his birth/original name

chester had some decent experience (for an 11 year old) of fixing machines because his father collected pre-war cars and motors and sold them and their parts for a living and so was sent downriver to Arizona to serve as a repairman and technician. while Legion property he was given the name Chiron

Chester lived in Arizona with the legion until he was 20 years old, hating every minute. a boy around his age by the name of Attilius was charged with keeping watch over him and bringing him new projects, and during the duration of their time together had developed a rapport over Roman poetry and literature, the only thing they could stand to talk to each other about.

Attilius was watching over him when Chester staged his escape and made it out. the two fought with Chester emerging victorious, believing he had killed Attilius, and escaping despite some severe injuries, including a spinal cord injury that ended up giving him brain damage, causing him to live with hallucinations, seizures, and worsening eyesight from this point on

Chester escaped via the Colorado River and came out on the other side in Nevada. he started wandering aimlessly, ignoring his injuries until he began becoming faint and passed out in a toppled semi truck and was discovered by some well intentioned folks that were traveling up the way to Vegas. they got him medical help before leaving him in Primm, at which point he took up a job as a courier with the Mojave Express at age 21, taking on a new name which he now cannot remember.

the freedom of being a courier was something Chester lived for. every day was a good day, he could go anywhere, meet lots of people, and got paid pretty good for his efforts. he was, and I cannot stress enough, perfectly and utterly happy with his simple mailman life, and misses it every sinnggglllee day during the game events. this continued on for ten happy years, in which time he learns that his older brother, Tomás, has become a trooper with the NCR. he avoids reaching out for some years after the discovery, wary of what his brother would think of him for his years in the Legion (even if it wasn't his choice.) when he does reach out, the only thing he receives in return is his brother's dog tags, learning he was killed in the battle of hoover dam 😀👍

the day after his 31st birthday is when he took the platinum chip job and ended up in a shallow grave in Goodsprings. after his brief coma and stay in the doctors house, and picking a new name again (Chester) and after resolving tensions with the Powder Gangers, he immediately cut a path to Vegas on the hunt for Benny. at first, he wanted revenge, but the anger turned to confusion, turned to helplessness. on his way through quarry junction, he was attacked by an injured deathclaw that had been abandoned by the rest of its pack, and recieved the scratches that blinded one of his eyes

after the attack, he managed to run as far as the NCR sharecroppers outside of the Strip before he collapsed and crawled his way to Freeside, where he was discovered by an unsuspecting Arcade, who took him in with haste and stitched him back together. the following day when Chester finally woke, Arcade gave him a full examination and decided it was medically unsafe for him to be alone and decided to follow him to keep an eye on him, though the two get a lot closer over the game events. Arcade also decided it'll be easiest if they make their way back to Primm and start the investigation from where it all began, rather than trying to break into an expensive, well armed luxury district and demand answers from a complete stranger. Chester agrees.

Chester has questionable memory of his past. he more or less remembers being a courier, in fact it's the period of time he remembers best (in comparison) about his life and kind of sensationalizes it and how badly he wants to return to that stage of his life, but the future marches ever onward. he doesn't remember any part of his life before the age of 15, and therefore only remembers he was part of the Legion and not the circumstances as to why. he avoids and detests them, scared that he's forgetting something awful about who he was and what he did, and keeping the information close to his chest. he remembers being Chiron, and doesn't know the limitations of his Chiron persona, and therefore has been renaming himself and reinventing himself every chance he gets (this is made worse by the fact that he remembers "killing" Attilius and fears that it proves he was as evil as the rest of them)

after the game, and because he had formed a strong relationship with Arcade, he elects to join the Followers of the Apocalypse, offering to help find and restore medical supplies across the desert. this arrangement lasts for about a year and a half until the events of Dead Money take place, and chester has a severe downward spiral upon returning home. he gives all his money from the Sierra Madre away immediately, tried to keep the severity of how bad he was doing mentally under wraps so as to not draw any concerns or questions from his friends but ended up breaking down and having a less than stellar confrontation with Arcade involving holding him at gunpoint (I must stress he was not in his right mind!)

after that they grew distant for a few months when Chester was back to patient status amongst the Followers, skirting around camp, talking mostly to some of the better suited doctors about what he was going through, before him and Arcade inevitably made up! and the rest is happily ever after. kind of

other misc things:

• chester playlist

• favorite wasteland animal: bighorner

• favorite radio song: johnny guitar - peggy lee

• lives in Novac and in Freeside

• closest relationship with Arcade, but also with Lily, Julie Farkas, and a decent partnership with Boone, though he gets along better with Manny and talks to him more often when in Novac

• he doesn't remember the dog tags he wears are his brother's, but he keeps them on because he feels like it might be important. I think he rediscovers this fact when he revisits Utah much later in life

• he hates wearing his glasses and pretty much only does so when Arcade or Julie insists he must (and insist they do)

• Attilius did not die in their fight, he was found unconscious and badly wounded and was punished by having his tongue cut out (with the claim that having those talks with Chester made him too weak to do his job.) the two met again during the second battle and he was killed in combat

• he develops a fondness and eventual passion for energy weapons after visiting the Silver Rush with Arcade and taking an interest in why he likes them so

• never returns to the Lucky 38 after the events of the story, so that casino is just rotting eternally. would ideally give the property to anyone who needs it but doesn't know who needs it to begin with

• low intelligence high science and medicine because of how invested he gets in learning from Julie and Arcade, and medicine in particular he finds passion in when speaking to Lily and examining her condition

• high perception because of paranoid hypervigilance

• clothes were given to him by The Followers after he showed up post-deathclaw attack, originally had a denim jacket but it was ruined in the conflict

[another-lost-mc]

obey me x pokemon au: the great mammon wants to fight!

summary: when you decide to become a pokemon trainer, a familiar face from your childhood decides he's going to help you by not helping you. or that's what he tells himself, anyway.

featuring: mammon x gn!reader

content: sfw (suggestive towards the end). follows the vibes of generation one except they're adults and, y'know, not children. "rivals" to lovers trope and so many clichés. tbh this is mostly mammon challenging reader to pokemon battles instead of talking about his feelings. wc: 1.6k+

Mammon is there when you choose your first Pokemon and he boldly declares that he's going to be your rival. Apparently, it's going to toughen you up and you should be grateful. When you admit you've never battled before, he embellishes his own track record hoping to impress you. (It doesn't.)

"Your first challenger is the Great Mammon! You better be ready to cough up that prize money!" He summons a low-level Pokemon similar to yours, but your Pokemon has a type advantage over his and it's almost a landslide victory in your favour.

He scoffs when you seem surprised by how easy that was. "You’re lucky I wasn't trying that hard. The next time we meet, I won't hold back!"

He just happens to set out for his own adventure the same time you do. At one of the junctions just outside of town, there's a very clear fork in the road: left or right. You think he's going to follow you, but when you turn right, he pointedly goes left. You wish him luck but he doesn't look back, and your mood deflates a little. It would've been nice to have company for a journey like this, but you carry on and accept it might be a long time before you see him again.

As it turns out, you cross paths with Mammon much sooner than you think.

For someone who claims to be your rival, it's weird how often you run into him. It's too convenient that Mammon shows up exactly when you need help the most. He teams up with you whenever a pair of trainers tries to gang up on you, or when you wander into an area with Pokemon far stronger than your own. Your Pokemon learn to fight in sync with his because they spend so much time together.

No matter how many times you ask, Mammon refuses your offers to officially join you. Sometimes he shows up out of the blue to challenge you to a battle. Other times he shoves a bag of supplies - usually spare Pokeballs and potions - into your arms and takes off again.

For most of your journey, Mammon's not far behind you. There are a few times he beats you to your destination. It’s a rare treat when you arrive at the next gym in time to watch him battle against its leader. He gets flustered when he realizes you're watching from the sidelines, but his Pokemon preen under your rapt attention. His team's gotten a lot stronger too.

If you're last to challenge the town's gym leader, Mammon waits for you outside and drags you into another battle. You're not sure what he's trying to prove, but you reluctantly accept his challenge and defeat him once again.

He doesn't usually have much prize money to give you when he loses. You refuse to take the small amount of gold he has in his pockets. He's your friend and you don't even want his money, but that just seems to irritate him even more. He denies loudly and vehemently that you're nothing more than his rival.

You think losing would hurt less than the sting of his rejection.

Contrary to what he says, your not-a-friend keeps traveling the same path you do. It would be cute if he wasn't being so stubborn.

Your dream of becoming a Pokemon Champion draws closer with each gym leader you defeat. You fasten the shiny new badge from the eighth and final gym leader to your jacket, but your excitement is short-lived. There's a familiar figure waiting for you on the outskirts of town, and he's wearing all eight badges too.

"Mammon, do we have to keep doing this? We've come so far. I really don't want to fight you anymore."

But he just smirks and plucks a Pokeball off his belt. "How are you gonna beat the Elite Four if you can't beat me?"

It's a close battle - the closest one yet - but you add another victory to your winning streak against him.

After the dust settles (literally), Mammon storms away. You heal your Pokemon with some potions first and you heal his too. None of the Pokemon pick up on the tension between you and Mammon. In fact, they all play together like they weren't just locked in a feverish duel a few minutes before.

You look over your shoulder and spot Mammon under the shade of a nearby tree. The scowl on his face is unwelcoming and you decide to give him his space. You assume he's stewing in the disappointment of another defeat. You could say "I told you so," but that would probably make things worse. (And you don't want to make things worse.)

Besides, even if you asked him, Mammon wouldn't be able to tell you what's wrong. He watches his Pokemon flock to you for attention and you feed them berries from your satchel. Was it the fact that you beat him every time he challenged you to a battle? He's always been a sore loser. Or was it the realization that he wasted so much time being your rival when he could've just been your friend instead?

"I wonder if you ever needed me at all," Mammon mutters to himself. His voice is too quiet for you to hear.

Eventually he returns but his mood is indiscernible and you don't know what to say. By the time you're both packed and ready to leave, the bitter expression on Mammon's face is gone. He runs his hand through his hair, glancing at you from the corner of his eye while his cheeks darken slightly.

When he's not too busy being your rival, you think that he can be very charming.

"How do ya feel about goin' up Victory Road together?" He holds his hand out to you stiffly. "Y'know, safety in numbers and all." His expression softens when you immediately place your hand in his. He laces his fingers with yours and you both pretend neither of you are smiling.

You make it through Victory Road, but the playful banter between you fades into grim anticipation when you finally reach the steps of Indigo Plateau. You both sign up to challenge the Elite Four at the reception desk before you lose your nerve and run back out the door.

There must not be any other challengers because Mammon's name is called almost immediately. He looks as panicked as you feel; there's so much left unsaid but not enough time to say anything at all. When he passes through the door without a word and it slams shut behind him, you feel like you're going to cry. Regret sits heavy in the pit of your stomach but all you can do is wait.

It feels like an eternity before they finally call your name, and Mammon still hasn’t returned.

You try to push thoughts of him away so you can concentrate on battling your opponents and their formidable Pokemon. Adrenaline surges through you and your hands tremble each time you summon a new Pokemon to your side. One by one, you come out of each battle victorious. It feels like luck rather than strength or skill that's gotten you this far because your potion supply is dwindling. Doubt clouds your mind each time one of your Pokemon is knocked out but the third member of the Elite Four finally bows to you.

The battle with Lance, the final member of the Elite Four, is absolute chaos. Your Pokemon suffer the merciless onslaught of his powerful dragon-types, the likes of which you've never seen before. Somehow your team barely manages to secure your victory, but it's still too early to celebrate.

There's one more challenger waiting for you.

When Lance accepts his defeat and moves aside, you step into the next arena to face off with the region's newest Champion.

“Yo! I was wondering how long you were gonna keep me waitin’!”

You gape at Mammon who waves to you from the Champion's podium. He looks so happy to see you that you break the stunned silence with a sigh of relief that bubbles into giddy laughter.

He tosses his first Pokeball into the air and catches it again, over and over, while his confident smirk warms into something more teasing. "C'mon babe, it's just you 'n me at the top of the world. Show the Great Mammon what you've really got!"

Both your teams fight like they've never fought before. It's a knock-down-drag-out battle that shifts back and forth between your favour and his.

When your last Pokemon is the only one remaining and the battle is won, Mammon jogs across the arena to you. He hands you a bag filled with more prize money than you know what to do with. "I owe ya from all those times before, don't I? You deserve it. Besides, I got most of it from those losers back there."

He nearly loses his balance when you throw your arms around him and give him a hug. It only takes a moment for him to wrap his arms around your waist and melt against you.

"So, Champion," he murmurs, brushing his lips against your cheek with a smile, "how about we find somewhere to grab dinner and celebrate?" 

The next morning, Mammon looks far too devilish with his messy white bedhead hair and starchy hotel sheets draped loosely across his hips. You're not sure you'll ever want to get out of bed when he looks like that, but when your tummy rumbles with hunger, you bashfully suggest getting up.

Mammon waggles his eyebrows and slides an arm around your waist to pull you closer to him. His very thoughtful suggestion is staying put and eating a breakfast of champions instead.

(He holds up his hands in mock surrender after you hit him in the face with a pillow, and he agrees to go out after all - once you give him one last kiss, of course.)

read more: obey me x pokemon au masterlist | obey me masterlist

[chouettecrivaine]

Odile's Soliloquy [Honkai: Star Rail]

Fandom: Honkai: Star Rail

Characters: Sparkle

Notes: 1.2k words, reader is referred to as prince but it's symbolic, sparkle has definitely disappeared an undescribed loved one of yours at BEST (and killed at worst)

Sparkle was a woman of many talents. An ardent method actor, she could become anything she wanted to be. Since the beginning, her name deserved to be up in lights, glittering over an entire city and catching the ardor of all. This talent of hers only grew until she could don any mask, becoming more mirage than person. Sparkle could be anything. She could be anybody your heart desired.

…except the one your heart desired.

Sparkle was used to flimsy desire. The things that sparked her attention lost it just as quickly. She wasn't used to being enthralled so thoroughly, much less by something she couldn't attain. Sparkle knew she was a woman of taste, though, and she trusted that her enrapture was well founded.

Unfortunately, such trustworthy taste didn't seem to have blessed you as it had her.

The one who had your heart was, quite frankly, a fool - and not even in the fun way. But the universe was made of contradictory sameness, and like always attracted like. They couldn’t see a trap whilst standing inside one, and Sparkle always knew that they’d need to be dealt with as soon as they started poking their nose in the Fools’ business. 

Though, in the end, their presence wasn’t quite as burdensome as Sparkle once thought. They had something that Sparkle had been vying for - someone who occupied her thoughts far more often than she’d care to admit. And yet, despite the fact that you had decided to cast a blundering fool in such a pivotal role, Sparkle couldn’t force herself to be mad at you. After all, what understudy doesn’t secretly wish for the trap door to open beneath the lead’s feet and render them useless for the performance?

So maybe she pulled the lever, cut the rope on the sandbag, loosened a few screws on the lights. Actress or magician? Only someone as gifted in the arts as Sparkle could pull off both in one act. Hidden up her sleeves were numerous cards and secret tricks, all of which gave her the leg up in the battle for your affections. More than simply act the part, Sparkle could become anyone she wanted to be, so of course she jumped right into the role she had been vying for and placed herself snugly at your side. Your partner’s actions were hardly difficult to replicate, and their words weren’t exactly taxing prose. The only admirable thing about them had been their devotion to you - but even then, their adoration was nothing compared to hers. A candle could never compete with dazzling fireworks, after all.

Sparkle knew long ago that she found her calling as a body double, fancying herself a black swan masquerading the lovely, cursed princess. She could pirouette around your questions with ease and take your hand in hers without suspicion. Sparkle was your trickster, and you, her idiot prince; truly a match made in whatever paradise the Aeons fashioned for the departed.

But then, as usual, she got bored. 

She wasn’t bred of you, but of something she thought would always be her weapon of choice; the monotony of a mask. She felt her face plastered into the same smile every day, a plastic facade she could never force to drop an inch. Sparkle wanted more from you: she wanted to feel the maniacal grin on her face once she revealed her plot; she wanted to feel the smug, victorious smirk on her face as she watched yours crumble; she wanted to grimace and scream as she tore into her own chest, trying to claw at the stabbing pain as you ran away. There was so much potential, and an artist such as herself couldn't be expected to hold back at such a critical junction in her career!

Shows that outran their welcome were rarely remembered fondly. Sparkle had prepared for her grand finale, ready to reveal her identity to you just before the curtain closed. When finally she allowed her mask to clatter to the ground, abandoned, she bent her knees and curtsied. Thank you, thank you, for attending the show! What thrilling twists! Way to end with a bang! Her hair fell over her shoulders and swayed by the sides of her face, hiding the uncertainty that turned her appreciative bow into one that hoped to beget your forgiveness.

She had expected a shriek, perhaps a gasp of utter shock - anything but the bemused laughter and sardonic slow clap that met her ears. Rising slowly, Sparkle matched your easy smirk with one of her own, as if she was in on the joke. 

Is the show really over? That’s what you seemed to ask. Sparkle had spent so much time watching you, both closely and from afar, that she could read the unspoken question in the tilt of your head, the slight shrug of your shoulder. Your gaze burned her like a spotlight shining down as she forgot all of her lines.

Well. If all it took for such an adoring audience was to don the mask once more, who was she to deny you an encore?

Sparkle didn’t need to hide herself in entirety after that. Her plan had been successful, after all. Your foolish oaths of true love had been broken by her facade, just as she wanted. But you didn’t run and try to assemble the pieces of what she forced you to break. Instead, you grabbed her hand and changed the steps, pulling her along the stage while she mimicked you as best she could. Sparkle remembered then why she never coveted the true romantic leads before - for any romance to be interesting, there needed to be a heartbreak in the central act.

No matter how precisely she danced, Sparkle realized that the romantic overture would never play while she was center stage.

Most Fools believed that love meant nothing. Everything meant nothing in the vast gaze of the Elation. She knew you would make a fine Fool when the discovery of her facade meant little to you. For whatever reason, something about this costume of hers brought you joy. Her actions brought you memories of true happiness, and when she donned that ugly simpleton’s mask, you could pretend everything was the same as it had been before. Yet, in the form of her that was as close as she could get to ‘true,’’ you never called her name or looked at her softly. You had seen through her disguise from the beginning. If she didn’t need to hide, then you didn’t need to pretend to care.

But now, her greatest tool had become her greatest weakness. Why should she have to hide her emotions when she wanted to let everything out? You had managed to tear her to shreds, and she was restless with the desire to rip off the costume and hear seams pop, show you her tear-stained cheeks and blood red hands so you could kiss it all away. Sparkle was no longer playing a part; she was feeling, which was the one thing a mask could never do.

Having the tables turned on her had been her greatest dream as a bored Fool. But now, she was something far worse than a Fool; a simple idiot who wasted her time wishing it was her name that spilled from your lips with such sincerity. She wanted it more than anything; the day when you pierced through the final mask, when you saw through the puppet named Sparkle and unlocked who she was in her core.

That would be the day when she could shed her swan feathers and finally be yours.

[kquil]

REMUS LUPIN | 17:27 ⏤WHEN I WIN

SUM. : as an underground fighter, remus is compelled to keep you away from it all but your persistant devotion makes his resolve crumble

G. : best friend reader ; underground fighter remus ; muggle au ; modern au ; fluff ; slight angst ; longing and resistance ; there's a lot of tension here oop-

LENGTH : 0.6k

NOT PROOFREAD OR EDITED

“You don’t have to do this (Y/N),” Remus comments, voice soft and gentle as he watches you with tender eyes wrapping up his hands and knuckles with gauze. 

“Just let me, Remus,” you counter in a similarly delicate tone. The act helps you cover up the scars and bruises embellishing the skin of his hands, which offers some relief, but it’s immediately taken away as soon as you remember that this was all in preparation for his next fight. After bandaging up his right hand, you don’t let go and stay exactly where you are; standing in between his thighs as he sits atop a table backstage, “...why do you have to do this, Rem?” your voice is shaking and on the verge of crumbling away for rampant sobs to push through. In an attempt to tamper it all down, you play with his large, calloused hands and trace your fingers along the veins that protrude from his scarred skin. 

“You know why…” he lifts up your chin, trying to meet your eyes but you can’t look at him. Instead he holds both of your small hands with one of his and lifts your arms up so that he could tuck his face under them and bring you closer by the waist with his free hand. He locks you in his embrace and breathes in your comforting scent, it’s warm and intimate; you smell like home. He’s so lucky you’ve stayed by his side even though you have no obligation to.  

“Remus, please,” he didn't answer. Silence follows your plea and it persists even when he suddenly moves to drop down from his perch on the table, turn with you still in his arms, pick you up by the waist to sit you down where he once was. With your positions switched, he locks you in by placing his hands on either side of your thighs and presses his face into the junction of your shoulder and neck with a deep inhale. You are all he needs before a match. You’re his good luck charm, the only thing that can bring peace to his mind and help him rise to victory. 

He just hates seeing you so upset over him. He knows you deserve better, so much better than what he can ever hope to offer you, and he should just let you go so that you aren't tied to him but Remus is addicted to your devotion. You’re the closest thing he has to a loving partner. He wants you to know how much you mean to him in the hopes of becoming something more but he’d feel too guilty if he held onto you any tighter than he already is. 

“I really appreciate you being here for me…” he rasps beside your ear before proceeding to kiss your temple, “I love you,”

“What was that?” you ask, missing the words he had muttered into your skin. You had a vague idea of what he said but didn’t want to get your hopes up, your eyes gave away your hope, however, and Remus had to pull away before he lost the reins to his resistance. If temptation was personified, it would be you. 

Nevertheless, Remus settled for gripping your waist, his thumb sneaking underneath your shirt and fondly massaging your supple skin and groaning at the unsavoury thoughts pervading his mind. 

‘She’s my best friend, she’s my best friend she’s my best friend…’ he chanted internally for his own sanity

“Remus I-” you’re cut off by a rapid knocking at the door. 

“You’re up! Get out here!”

Remus presses a lingering kiss against your cheek and steps away from you, smiling fondly at the hand you subconsciously reach out to him with, “I’ll tell you what I said when I win the match,” without another word, he’s out the door, eager to get in the ring and win the match. 

Fuck being your friend, he’s making you his lover once he’s secured his victory. Like all the underground matches he’s won before, this fight was for you.

A/N : i don't know if there are any underground fighter remus fics out there but i am obsessed

NAVI.

[g1ucose]

The Best

being UK’s number one and having a tension filled rivalry with the number one hero of USA. It makes sense, both country’s population don’t really like eachother. The online discourse on “which hero is best?” is a never ending battle of “you eat beans on toast haha” and “shut up you american prick”

you meet once a year for one week, during an awarding heroes event and every year, you meet in each others private hotel rooms to fuck each others brains out to prove whose really the best, because sparring would probably end up in several damaged buildings and several hospital bills or even a dead body. “this is the safest way” she persuaded you with that vapid naughty look , “whattt, are you scared I might win?”

you didn’t let her get to you though. every year, the violent teeth clashing always ended up with you claiming victory. her cocky hubris attitude dwindling away with each tug of her blonde locks and a vicious bite on whatever part of her body that was the closest and just like that you’d have the number one, omnipotent, supposedly omniscient hero of U fucking SA succumbing to you. her fingers entangle themselves in your hair when you drive up into her with your silicone dick her legs resting on your shoulders and her mouth falls open to gasp out at the immense stretch of your ribbed strap, all the oxygen leaving her lungs. “what’s wrong my love? can’t catch your breath?” the nickname makes her whine even though she knows you’re only messing with her. “Fuck— ah! — youu.” she tries to show at least some defiance but you know for certain she’s throughly enjoying it. “you’re manners are horrible because of course they are.” you speak casually rolling your eyes along with the comment as if you aren’t a few too many inches deep inside of her.

she cuts off your rambling insults with a pull of your hair that brings your mouth onto her lips and has you slowing the pace of your hips into a sweet rut that has her whimpering into your intertwined tongues. You pull away, moving down her body placing gratifying pecks down her collar bone. “m’cumming—” she hurries out resting a panicked hand on your thigh. “already? where are your manners?” you remind her.

“what?— ahn—,” her eyes flicker up into yours when she realises what you’re asking of her, “ohh—fuck you. I’m n—not begging.”

“I guess I’ll have to stop then?”

she swallows whats left of her pride one last time before letting out the most pathetic pleas of, “please please— Oh fuckk— please ugh- let me cum, let me cum— m’cummin”

“And whose the best, hm?” you coo at her,

“Fuck— you are. you— ah!“ you cut her off by leaning your remaining weight on top of her and resting your face in the space between her neck, her legs now almost parallel to her torso as you bend her in half as you pound into her punctuating your point with each of your thrusts. “Yeah thats right.” you say with bared teeth, “I’m the fuckin’—best.” by the end of the night you have her cumming with her teeth sunk deep into the fleshy junction between your neck and shoulder making you wince out in pain. “Ow—fuckk.”

She’s heaving for breath when you get off her body, her hands clinging onto you as you leave the bed to find your clothes. “what. the fuck.” she breathes out. “loser.” you chuckle as you slam the door shut behind you as you leave her hotel room.

at the end of the week, you’re watching her stride towards the woman holding the golden trophy ready to claim the piece of metal marking her as the “Number One Hero of The People.” and makes you scoff because you and her both know who the better hero really is.

A/N: lmfoa i forgot to mention that im british which makes my crush on cathleen a little funnier, also sorry for making you british but its for the plot guys!! tbh i dont really like this but oh well i spent time writing it might aswell post it, no?

[workersolidarity]

[ 📹 "We were sitting in the house, all of us were civilians," a Palestinian man says while holding the body of a dead child after their home was bombed by the Israeli occupation forces.

"Suddenly the house collapsed on us. The entire house is full of children, as you can see. This child is less than two months old. He was born during the war," the man says before asking, "For what sin was this child killed? This is an innocent child. Is this on Netanyahu's target list?" ]

🇮🇱⚔️🇵🇸 🚀🏘️💥🚑 🚨

GAZA WAR DAY 311: GALLANT SLAMS NETANYAHU CLAIMS OF "COMPLETE VICTORY", ISRAELI OCCUPATION CLOSES SEVERAL AREAS IN GAZA NEAR BORDER, ETHNIC CLEANSING OF GAZA REACHES NEW MILESTONE WITH 84% OF TERRITORY UNDER MANDATORY EVACUATION ORDERS, GENICIDAL WAR CONTINUES WITH MASS MURDER OF PALESTINIAN CIVILIANS

On the 311th day of the Israeli occupation's ongoing special genocide operation in the Gaza Strip, the Israeli occupation forces (IOF) committed a total of 3 new massacres of Palestinian families, resulting in the deaths of no less than 142 Palestinian civilians, mostly women and children, while another 150 others were wounded over the previous 24-hours.

It should be noted that as a result of the constant Israeli bombardment of Gaza's healthcare system, infrastructure, residential and commercial buildings, local paramedic and civil defense crews are unable to recover countless hundreds, even thousands of victims who remain trapped under the rubble, or whose bodies remain strewn across the streets of Gaza.

This leaves the official death toll vastly undercounted as Gaza's healthcare officials are unable to accurately tally the number of those killed and maimed in this genocide, which must be kept in mind when considering the scale of the mass murder.

Beginning on Monday, August 12th, the Israeli occupation army has announced it will close several areas within the Gaza envelope near the border with "Israel" following the assessment of the army.

The order was signed by occupation army Maj. Gen. Yaron Finkelman, head of the Israeli occupation forces' Southern Command.

The evacuation calls for several areas along the border between Gaza and Israeli-occupied Palestine to be added to the "closed military zone", prohibiting entrance without prior coordination with the army.

The announcement was made after Israeli colonial settler activists planned to hold a prayer event on the Gaza border, with the activists seeking to alter the government's position against the resettlement of Gaza by the colonists.

The newly closed areas include the fields between the Erez crossing, Yad Mordechai, to the Shaar HaNegev Junction, and Nahal Oz, as well as the fields between the access road to the cemetery in Netivot and Route-234 to the Gaza Security barrier.

Additionally, the areas between the Re'im and Urim Junctions, to the security barrier will also be closed, according to the army.

In other news on Monday, Zionist Defense Minister Yoav Gallant spoke during a meeting of the Israeli occupation's Security Committee hearings in which he gave an overview of the progress of the genocidal war in Gaza.

During the meeting, Gallant slammed the Netanyahu administration, declaring that "I hear the tam-tam drums and this chatter about the absolute victory, it's a shame that in the room they didn't show the same courage," referring to the Israeli security establishment, which previously proposed pre-emptive strikes against Hezbollah near the start of the war.

“The conditions today for war in Lebanon are unlike those at the beginning of the war," Gallant continued.

"Maybe I don't understand the media and the talk, but I understand security, today we are in a completely different situation than we were when I insisted on an attack in the north that the entire security system supported," he added.

Gallant then responded to questions in which he stated that the position of the Rafah Brigade in southern Gaza had been "decided". He added that, for the dozens of hostages who remained alive, it was worth withdrawing from the so-called "Philadelphi Corridor" for a period of 6 weeks, during which, negotiations could proceed in phases and actions be taken.

Following the meeting, the Prime Minister's Office responded to Gallant's comments, declaring that he "is bound by 'absolute victory' too."

In a statement issued by Netanyahu's office, the occupation Prime Minister determined that "When Gallant adopts an anti-Israel narrative, he hurts the chances of reaching a hostage deal."

"He should have attacked [Hamas leader Yahya Sinwar], who refuses to send a delegation to negotiations, and who was and remains the only obstacle to the hostage deal.”

It should be noted that the Hamas resistance movement has repeatedly agreed to the terms of the Biden administration's proposed hostage exchange and ceasefire agreement, only to see the Israeli Prime Minister change the terms of the agreement, add new conditions, or, most recently, assassinate the lead negotiator, former Hamas Political Bureau leader Ismail Haniyeh.

The Prime Minister's Office reiterated its stance that the Israeli entity must achieve "absolute victory", which Netanyahu claims can only be accomplished through the elimination of the Hamas resistance movement's military and governance capabilities, as well as the release of the Israeli hostages that continue to be held by the Palestinian resistance forces in Gaza.

The Office's statement concludes by stating that "This is the clear directive of Prime Minister Netanyahu and the cabinet, and it is binding on everyone — including Gallant."

Meanwhile, in more news, Zionist colonial settlers continue storming the Al-Aqsa Mosque compound on a near daily basis, continueing to tread on established agreements and destroying what remains of the status quo.

According to local reporting, dozens of Zionist settlers stormed the mosque compound while under the protection of the Israeli occupation forces and Shin Bet security services, carrying out tours of the compound and performing provocative rituals while blocking Muslim worshippers from entering the compound.

On Sunday, "Temple Groups" of more than 370 colonial settlers stormed the compound, announcing their intention of establishing a human chain surrounding the mosque and calling for its demolition.

At the same time, Shin Bet police turned the Old City area of Jerusalem into a military barracks, deploying hundreds of its security officers in the streets and near the Al-Aqsa Gates, as well as the gates to the Old City.

In other news on Monday, the Israeli ethnic cleansing of the Gaza Strip reached a new milestone, with more than 84% of territory under mandatory evacuation orders by the Israeli occupation army.

In a report published by Turkish news outlet Anadolu News Agency, Anadolu cites the deputy spokesperson for the United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA), Farhan Haq, as saying that the Israeli occupation's "ongoing bombardment and hostilities in Gaza continue to kill, injure and displace Palestinians- as well as damage and destroy the homes and infrastructure they rely on."

"Two evacuation orders were issued by the Israeli military over the weekend for Khan Yunis, mostly for areas that were previously placed under evacuation," Haq said during a press conference on Monday morning.

Farhan Haq went on to point out that around 23 displacement sites, along with 14 water, sanitation and hygiene facilities and four educational facilities have been effected by the occupation's evacuation orders.

"In total, about 305 square kilometers (117.7 square miles), or nearly 84% of the Gaza Strip, have been placed under evacuation orders by the Israeli military," Haq said during the press conference.

He also noted that the entry of humanitarian aid supplies into the Gaza Strip has been severely restricted as a result of "active hostilities, access constraints, high levels of insecurity, the lack of public order and safety," as well as other factors.

During a back and forth with reporters, Haq responded to a question about whether a "genocide" is unfolding in Gaza by saying that there would need to be "a judicial ruling" by the appropriate courts to label it as such.

While referring to previous comments regarding the situation in Gaza, Haq said that "these are alarming figures for any conflict anywhere," and also called for a ceasefire.

Meanwhile, the Israeli's genocidal war continues unabated, with the constant slaughter of civilians and near complete destruction of Palestinian housing, facilities and infrastructure amid the constant bombardment of the Israeli occupation forces (IOF).

Beginning on Monday morning, local ambulance crews reported the recovery of two dead bodies from the western neighborhoods of Rafah, in the southern Gaza Strip.

According to local reporting, Occupation forces bombarded residential homes in the Tal al-Sultan neighborhood, west of Rafah, in the southern Gaza Strip, killing two Palestinians who were recovered by local ambulance and civil defense crews.

The Israeli occupation army also detonated an entire residential block in the town of Abasan al-Jadida, east of the city of Khan Yunis, in the south of Gaza.

Prior to that, on Sunday evening, Israeli aircraft bombed a number of civilian homes in the Sheikh Radwan neighborhood, north of Gaza City, as well as in the Nuseirat Refugee Camp, in the central Gaza Strip, and in Rafah in southern Gaza.

According to local reporting, Zionist warplanes bombed a residential house belonging to the Hamdan family west of the Nuseirat Camp, in the central Gaza Strip, resulting in the deaths of two Palestinians and wounding several others.

Similarly, on Monday morning, occupation fighter jets bombed a residential home belonging to the Murad family west of Gaza City, killing two civilians and wounding a number of others with various injuries.

In another atrocity, Zionist forces targeted a gathering of civilians near the Badr Mosque in the Al-Zaytoun neighborhood, southeast of Gaza City. Following the strike, Palestinian Red Crescent Society (PRCS) paramedics reported the transfer of three dead Palestinians and a number of wounded to Al-Ahli Baptist Hospital in the city.

Moreover, throughout the day, Israeli occupation forces began several waves of intense bombardments targeting the city of Khan Yunis, in southern Gaza, resulting in dozens of casualties throughout the day.

Zionist artillery shelling and airstrikes targsted the residential home of the Al-Najjar family in the Ma'an neighborhood of Khan Yunis, killing several Palestinians and wounding others, while occupation forces also bombed a civilian vehicle in the vicinity of a refueling station on Salah al-Din Street, east of the Khan Yunis, killing at least three Palestinians and wounding 10 others.

It was also reported that Zionist soldiers fired smoked grenades towards neighborhoods east of the Al-Zaytoun neighborhood, southeast of Gaza City.

The Israeli occupation army continued its horrific war crimes by bombing a civilian residence in the town of Abasan Al-Kabira, east of Khan Yunis, in southern Gaza, killing more than 10 Palestinians and wounding a number of others.

On Monday evening, occupation aircraft bombarded a residential home belonging to the Darwish family in the Al-Maghazi Refugee Camp, in the central Gaza Strip, killing one civilian and wounding several others, while another bombing of the Al-Sayed family home on Block-9 of the Al-Bureij Camp, also in central Gaza, killed a Palestinian citizen and his son.

In another criminal bombing, occupation forces targeted the residential home of the Abu Alwan family in the Sheikh Radwan neighborhood of Gaza City, resulting in a number of dead and wounded.

Additionally, Zionist warplanes bombed another residential house in the town of Al-Qarara, northeast of Khan Yunis, killing two Palestinian civilians and wounding several others.

As a result of the Israeli occupation's ongoing war of extermination in the Gaza Strip, the death toll now exceeds 39'897 Palestinians killed, including at least 10'980 women and more than 16'315 children, while another 92'152 others have been wounded since the start of the current round of Zionist aggression, beginning with the events of October 7th, 2023.

August 12th, 2024

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@WorkerSolidarityNews

[iaminfourthwing]

The Generals Daughter

Chapter VII

It’s been a few weeks since my threat against Jack in Professor Kaori’s class. Violet is still poisoning her opponents, week for week and wins every challenge. Not the best way but she wins, and she lives, I can work with that.

Every challenge since then I won too, without getting them unconscious, on behalf of my dearest Squad Leader, Dain. I am good but I shouldn’t overdo it, those were his words. And while every other cadet can beat the shit out of their opponents and can fight properly, I am not allowed. I gave him a piece of my mind for that, because it’s truly bullshit. I think he is just afraid I would accidentally kill them. Alone for the last month there were twenty more names of first years on the death roll, mostly thanks to challenges.

I fought against a smaller girl from Second Wing. She practically reeked of fear when she stepped on the matt, but she was the one challenging me. I did what I had to do.

The next one was a tall, stocky guy from First Wing. Trevor Laine, one of Barlowes little lapdogs. He challenged me as well and the match lasted longer than I wished for. He got a few good hits, but it was my final move that got him down.

*Flashback four weeks prior*

“Trevor Laine and…” there is a short break, “Arya Melgren”. Emetterio looks a bit unsure in his notebook.

We take our place on the matt and look at each other. He is tall, around 6’0’’ and has a good number of muscles but apparently … he has a loudmouth too.

“Bow before your champion!” he shouts and cheers mostly from First Wing echoes through the gym but Third and Fourth Wing don’t entertain him.

“I’d rather jump from the Parapet than bow to you” I snort while waiting for him to get ready so we can finally start.

“It will be a pleasure to beat the shit out of you and have you struggling under me.” A disgusted shiver runs down my body when his gaze and eyes practically undress me.

“That’s disgusting” I hear someone say from behind, but I don’t have time to react because Trevor moves forward, ready for the first attack.

I move out of the way and land a hard punch against his kidneys, making him double over but he regains his composure fast. He unsheathes a dagger, way too small for his figure, and charges at me again, holding it up in a striking position. I can block the attack, but his blade catches my arm. Ignoring the sting I jab him against his wrist, making him loose the dagger, and land a punch under the junction of arm and collarbone, paralyzing his arm temporally.

Confusion is written on his face when he can’t move his arm properly. The confusion is quickly replaced with rage. “You bitch!” Unsheathing another blade, he charges again with me dodging the attack for a second time, knocking the blade out of his hand again but he can land a hard punch at my face. The sting hurts like hell because of the power behind his punch but the next move is mine.

My fist connects with his cheek in a hard strike and I use his disorientation to go for another one. Lifting my right leg, I kick into his knee and with a painfilled shout he goes down on one knee, his other one definitely damaged. Ignoring the cheering of my squad in the back, I take a step back, asking him if he taps out but all I get is a frustrated growl and a shake of his head. Shrugging my shoulders, I hit him in the face again with a well-placed roundhouse kick. He falls down on the matt completely, on the verge of losing consciousness.

“Do you yield?” I ask again, my squad cheering louder behind me.

He barely nods and taps the matt three times. Bending down, I take the smaller knife to place it into the empty space at my right thigh. The victory is mine.

*Flashback ends*

I won the next two challenges after this without any problems.

Violet is currently standing on the matt, nervous because we both saw her opponent, Rayma Corrie from Third Wing, brought to the healers, unsteady on her legs. She poisoned her to early. Emetterio confirms, that Rayma is in no position to challenge today.

“That’s too bad,” Violet says. “Should I just- “she starts but is interrupted by a deep, dark voice. “I am happy to step in.”

Xaden. My eyes widen and Ridoc gasps loudly next to me. Our wingleader finds his place in front of Violet, who looks like she is about to throw up. This is bad, really bad.

“How much do we bet, that Dain is trying to prevent that?” I whisper to Ridoc. He just snorts but gives me a knowing look. Dain is way too smitten and whipped for her but it’s not like Xaden will or can kill her.

“A little out of her league, don’t you think?” Dain argues from the sideline.

Ridocs loud laugh echoes through the gym but he quickly slaps a hand over his mouth when he earns the attention from the others. I grin.

“Relax, Ateos. She’ll be in one piece when I’m done teaching her” Xaden muses.

“That sounds so wrong” I whisper in amusement and hear a chuckle behind me. Turning my head, I catch the eyes of Liam and … Bodhi. Before I can blush, my name is called through the gym.

“Cadet Melgren!” That voice.

I whip my head back around to see my father’s right hand at the entrance. No, fuck! He is already back?! He wasn’t supposed to be back here, not before Threshing!

I tense violently, eyes wide open and jaw dropped and I barely notice Ridoc and Sawyer step next to me, tensing too. The older man nods once and that is my sign. ‘Follow me’ it says. “Fuck” I mutter under my breath but move forward.

I call out to my friends. “We see us at dinner.” Hopefully. My dark-skinned friend looks way too serious, I’ve never seen him like this before and I hate it.

Moving around I catch Violets worried eyes, ignoring the curious onyx eyes of our wingleader.

“Kick his ass, silver one” but said girls answering grimace says it all. She’ll lose and I am not here to help her up afterwards. I can only hope for Rhiannon and our two idiots to stay with her.

Passing Professor Emetterio, he murmurs a small “Stay strong” and then I am out of the gym, following the man to my father’s office. Leaving my friends and a hundred curious glances behind me. And worried ones.

[koratheweirdo]

a week for a witch 🩷

MONDAY

★associated with: the moon, clairvoyance, femininity, dreaming

★spellwork: healing emotionally, divination, home, travel, fertility

★crystals: moonstone, pearl, selenite

★deities: Selene, Diana, Thoth

★candles: white

★flowers: lotus, lily, jasmine

TUESDAY

★associated with: Mars

★spellwork: protection, banishing, passion, success, self-confidence, matrimony

★crystals: garnet, ruby, bloodstone

★deities: Tyr/Tiwaz, Kali, Aries

★candles: red

★flowers: holly, snapdragon

★actions: be brave, set goals, achieve/aim for victory, work on esteem

WEDNESDAY

★associated with: Mercury, reading/writing/studying, travel, the arts, divination

★spellwork: communication, business, travel, art/creativity, money, luck, wisdom, change

★crystals: lapis lazuli, agate, aventurine, citrine

★deities: Odin, Hermes, Athena

★candles: purple

★plants: fern, lavender, mandrake

THURSDAY

★associated with: Jupiter, storms, water, element, harvesting, leadership, honor

★spellwork: money, career, abundance, luck, healing, contracts/legal work

★crystals: turquoise, aventurine, lapis lazuli

★deities: Thor, Zeus, Juno

★candles: (royal) blue, green

★plants: bay leaf, honeysuckle, cinnamon, oak

FRIDAY

★associated with: Venus

★spellwork: romance, fertility, passion, family, reconciliation, beauty, nature

★crystals: rhodochrosite, garnet, rose quartz

★deities: Freya, Aphrodite, Eros, Lakshmi

★candles: aqua/(light) blue, pink

★flowers: hibiscus, apple blossom, pink rose

★actions: connect with the water element, self care/beauty rituals

SATURDAY

★associated with: Saturn

★spellwork: protection, banishing, cleansing, creativity, manifestation

★crystals: obsidian, hematite, jet, amethyst

★deities: Hecate, Saturn, Hades, Hestia, Bast

★candles: black

★flowers: pansy, thyme, cypress

★actions: drink black tea, cleanse house, personal transformation, self discipline

SUNDAY

★associated with: Sun

★spellwork: success, wealth, abundance, growth, healing/health, creativity

★crystals: carnelian, tigers eye, citrine

★deities: Apollo, Helios, Ra

★candles: yellow

★flowers: orange, sunflower, marigold

★actions: bake with cinnamon, get creative, watch the sunset

[weskie]

Sweet Dreams (Albert Wesker x amab!Reader)

18+ | somno, oral sex, penetrative sex, come eating, light angst, soft wesker, afab!reader version here | Fic Directory

This was hardly an uncommon occurrence anymore.  You’d given him permission long ago, but it always came as a surprise regardless.  Perhaps it was just… out of character.  Wesker’s so damn dignified all the time.  The first time it happened, you woke to his greedy little slurps between your legs, his tongue all but desperately fucking in and out of your hole until he slipped two fingers inside to stretch you wide enough to take him.  He’d let out an amused, victorious hum when your thighs clamped around his head and you mewled the bliss of your release the second your tip touched his tongue.  Wesker took you hard and fast that night, over and over until his eyelids grew heavy and he’d exhausted his inhuman stamina.

You’d talked about it the next day, of course.  You both enjoyed yourselves, so why not?  Turns out, this was the best thing to ever happen to your sex life.  Quality time with Albert was sparse, but time for ‘primitive pleasures,’ as he calls them, were even more so.  He’d often come to bed well after you’d fallen asleep, sometimes even leaving before you had the chance to wake in the morning.  Such was life.

Now, though?  Now he comes home and knows he can have his way with you.  He can wake up in the middle of the night and be as mischievous as he could possibly want.  Or as desperate.

“Nngh–”

Like tonight.

“H-Hah…”

His breaths fan hot against your neck and each pitiful noise is sung into your ear.  He thrusts slowly, each languid stroke just shallow enough to be kind.  He must be trying to let you stay asleep.  God, you wonder how he even stretched you enough for this without waking you.  You smirk, weighing your options.  You could bring your legs up and around his waist, tug him closer, signal that it was okay to speed up and take what he needs.  Or… you could enjoy the show.  After all, you’ve never caught him like this.

He’s a sensual lover in every sense of the word, but you’ve never heard him be so vocal before.

“Mm, god…”  He mewls, tongue laving at your flesh as he grinds warm and wet in your aching core.  He locks his lips at the junction of your shoulder and suckles, teeth nibbling sweetly.  It sends shivers down your spine and you have to fight the urge to arch into it.  “F-Feels so, mmph…”  His speed increases bit by bit as his self control falters.  Fuck, you can practically see him even with your eyes shut.  Right about now, his eyes are probably glowing redder than ever.  Those cat-like pupils are probably blown wide.  He’s probably got his teeth bared and his nose scrunched the way he does when he’s holding back.

“M-Mine,” he whispers.  Grinding turns to sloppy ruts and fuck, you can’t take it anymore.

You open your eyes and find him exactly as you’d pictured him, but there’s something… different.  Something strange.  You thumb it away, thinking it to be a sweat drop, but another follows the same path and you realize he’s–

“Al..?”

“Mine.  Mine…” He gasps, face falling to your neck once more.  You bring your hand to his nape and curl your fingers there.  His thrusts grow messier by the second, but your pleasure had all but been eradicated the second you realized those were tears on his cheeks.  “You’re– you’re real.  Real,” Wesker pants weakly, “and mine!”

Your legs come up around him, guiding his motions, and you rake your fingers through his mussed hair.  “Shh, sweetheart.” You coo.  You’ve heard this song and dance before.  It’s been quite some time since he learned of his manufactured life, but there were still cracks in his seemingly impenetrable walls.  He fell apart back then.  Swore up and down after that it’d never happen again.  But sometimes…  “I’ve got you.”  Sometimes reality is harsher than even the strongest resolve.

He clings to you, arms wrapped around your midsection as he drives in hard and fast.  Squelches and wet slaps ring out in tandem with his whines, and then the telltale circular grinding starts and–

“Oh god!”

His teeth sink into your shoulder and you keen at the sharp sting.  His whole body locks like a board against yours, muscles flexed and breath held tight until its staleness overpowers him into a loud exhale and desperate, shuddering gulps of air.  You pepper kisses against the side of his head as best you can. His hands grasp your thighs.

Wesker pushes against you slowly, milking the last ebb and flow of bliss from his climax.  He falls limp against you and, after some time, you’re almost convinced he’s fallen asleep, but then he lifts himself just enough to press lazy wet kisses to your lips.  He suckles your lower lip sweetly, giving it the softest nip before letting off and moving down, littering more affections to every inch.  Neck, collarbones, chest, navel– the only complaint you’ve got is that he had to slip out to keep going, but you figure the trade off was perfectly fine when those lips wrap around your tip and–

“Al!”  You gasp, incisor sinking into your lower lip, hands coming down to thread in his silky locks, petting and pulling.  “You– you don’t have to– mmph!”  Your head falls back and you see stars.  Fuck, he’d gotten you all stirred up before and he’s got you back there in mere moments.  Each bob of his head erupts your flesh in goosebumps, and then he slips his fingers inside and–  “I– oh fuck!”  He slurps your cock loudly and you know exactly what he’s after.  The thought alone is enough to make you buck against him, but then those long fingers of his find their way to your sweet spot and you keen and whine and cry out for him over and over again.

“Mine.” He groans against you.

He rubs you with gentle curling motions, but you know it’s more than that.  This isn’t just him seeking to ensure you get yours.  No.  Right now, he’s coaxing the proof of your love from between your legs.  He lets off with a pop and kisses down your length, suckles your sack, and finally laves your rim, savoring the salty sweet taste of his release as it oozes from your hole. Each swipe of his fingers draws his seed from deep within and he moans with every tantalizing taste.  

The thought alone is enough to put you right on the doorstep of a mind blowing orgasm, but it’s his noises that drive you over the edge entirely.  Bucking and whining and mewling, you cry out his name and gasp your love into the air, shooting it all over your abdomen.  But he doesn’t stop. His tongue rubs trails up and down your shaft over and over again, pausing to suckle and swirl and slurp more of you until you’re so overstimulated that the only thing you can do is moan and push his face away from your aching cock.

His lips are back on yours in a flash, tongue licking your own taste into your mouth.  His fingers lace with yours and draw your hands up over your head.  Wesker pulls away just enough to observe you, but he doesn’t flash that typical smirk of his.  There’s no victory plastered on his face.  No smugness.

Instead, he smiles sweetly and shifts to lay beside you, tugging your body to fit against his like a puzzle piece.  “I do rather like this new rule of ours,” he murmurs against the nape of your neck. “Thank you, my dear…”

You hum and turn in his hold, letting your hand trail up the length of his arm.  “You okay?”  Sure, it kills the afterglow a bit.  And yes, he’s going to deny having been upset earlier.  It’s what he does.  But you can’t ignore that it happened.

“...yes.”  He lies.  “My apologies for waking you.”

You sigh and give him your usual look so he knows that you know better.  “I love you,” you say, craning your neck to press a featherlight kiss to the corner of his mouth.  “That’s always real… I promise.”

He regards you with a set jaw and pained eyes, but ultimately presses a firm kiss to your forehead.  “Sleep,” he huffs. “You talk far too much.”

You giggle and nuzzle his chest, content to do as he commands.  Besides, you know that’s how he says it back.

[klaineccfanficlibrary]

any fics about kurt and blaine being in rival show choirs and any relationship between the two choirs is like against the rules, but they are secretly dating? thank you

Here are some rival show choirs, where they start to get feelings or date! ~Jen

The Funkification of Blaine Warblerby Esperanto 

When Rachel spies on the Warblers to scope out their competition for Sectionals, she is alarmed to discover how talented they are. Determined to get the edge for Sectionals, the New Directions decide to take a page out of Vocal Adrenaline’s playbook and pull off a “funkification” of their own that starts Kurt and Blaine off on entirely the wrong foot.

~~~~~

Sabotageby @chasingkerouacwrites

The NYADA Adam’s Apples know that the stiffest competition for Nationals this year will come from their very own neighbor, the NYU Vocal Effects. Kurt, a member of the Adam’s Apples, knows that the path to victory runs straight through Vocal Effects’ newest musical weapon – Blaine Anderson. Sure practice makes perfect, but sometimes a competition this important calls for a little… sabotage.

~~~~~

Lima/Heights Junction by @quizasvivamos​

Just as summer vacation is winding down, a fire leaves the kids of Lima Heights without a high school to return to. While necessary repairs are being made, its rival school McKinley High opens its doors to the students of the adjacent town. An inevitable clashing takes place, and tensions run high, but can they find a common ground to overcome their differences to survive this temporary hardship?

~~~~~

Like Birds Of A Featherby CoffeeAddict80/ @caramelcoffeeaddict

When Blaine Anderson met Kurt Hummel, he was surprised that his sister, Rachel Berry, had never mentioned her amazing - and gorgeous - best friend to him before. He was even more surprised to learn that Rachel had kept Blaine a secret from all of her friends as well.

Soon after their initial meeting, they learn that Dalton & McKinley will be facing-off against one another at Sectionals, forcing them to keep their rapidly growing friendship under-wraps until after the competition.

But what will Rachel have to say about all of this when she finds out?

~~~~~

The Walls Keep Our Secret by thesoundofmeaning

AU: Kurt Hummel is a member of the New Directions of McKinley HS and Blaine Anderson is a member of the Warblers of Dalton Academy. The schools’ show choirs have been feuding for years and it is a rule that members never associate with each other. But when Kurt and Blaine have a chance encounter that could change their lives forever, will they give all of that up for their groups?

[mania-sama]

Trick or treat!!! 😁

hello, dear! welcome to my humble abode! dig into this bowl to get some candy… ah! you’ve got a fanfiction line explanation! a rare gem indeed.

this excerpt is from if you need me, dear, i’m the same as i was:

He’s on the court before Sakusa is. He’s across the net before Argentina can celebrate their victory. He’s grabbing Oikawa’s shoulders tightly before anybody else can get to him. Iwaizumi stares into his estranged best friend’s glassy, confused, uncomprehending eyes. He’s shaking Tooru’s shoulders, desperate as he yells: “You are having a heart attack!” And Hajime is fifteen and three-quarters, learning emergency CPR for his new part-time job as a lifeguard. He thinks that it could come in useful. He thinks that saving people isn’t a job he would mind. And Hajime is sixteen, watching Tooru recover from his surgery, and he realizes he will never play professional volleyball. He wants to help people like Tooru forever — people who want to dedicate their whole life to a sport but have a body that strives to prevent their goal every step of the way. He can’t do that as a player on the court. And Hajime is seventeen, trying to convince Tooru to eat a sandwich even though he is adamantly insisting he isn’t hungry. He discovers sports medicine isn’t just about the physical ills and pains. To be a good athletic trainer, he has to see every aspect of a player’s well-being, and that includes their mental health. And Hajime is eighteen, standing alone in the airport and experiencing loss for the first time. In order for Oikawa to grow as an athlete, he has to cut away the weed strangling his roots. Hajime lets him without complaint. This is part of his new career, after all; if he helps athletes succeed, they would all, one day, leave his medical care. And Hajime is twenty-seven, losing his best friend for a second time at the end of the first set of chest compressions. At least three ribs have cracked under his pace and pressure. He pinches Tooru’s nose, pries his jaw open, and breathes air into his lungs twice. His ring and pinky finger automatically find his pulse point. Nothing. Seeing that no medical equipment has arrived, he starts the second set of chest compressions. Oikawa’s bones creak and give way under his desperation. He knows CPR like the back of his hand; if the ribs are breaking, that means it’s working. It doesn’t get rid of the panic and pain at the thought of how much damage he’s doing to Oikawa’s body. The paramedics are a second too late with their LUCAS device at the end of the last compression. He dives down for another round of mouth-to-mouth, recognizing, faintly yet viscerally at the same time, that Oikawa’s soft skin is pale and rapidly cooling. At the junction between his neck and jaw, Iwaizumi searches for a heartbeat. Breathe. Nothing. Breathe. Nothing.

this entire segment, as i intended, is meant to be read completely out of breath, gasping and choking on every single word. it’s meant to feel like the world is rushing and crumbling around you. it’s meant to be read at the speed of lightning, each word cackling and breaking. the periods in the paragraphs are merely suggestions; every paragraph starts with an and because the last sentence, the last paragraph never really ended.

it’s meant to be, in all intents and purposes, to be one continuous run-on sentence. unfortunately, that would be rather bad form for me as a writer. i don’t have the skill to pull it off just yet.

when you get to the “breathe. nothing. breathe. nothing.” it’s not supposed to be a gentle breathe. it’s supposed to be a gasp, panicked and hurting and desperate. it’s a cry, a sob of pain. medically, he’s doing a very measured recovery breath to force oikawa’s lungs into the action of breathing. mentally, it’s everything but measured. the “nothing” is crying. the actual sob with tears. nothing! he is screaming, knowing that his best friend is fucking dead, but he is saying nothing as he dives into another breath.

it should be read, more accurately, as: “gasp. please, please. don’t leave.”

and this all really stems from the line directly before this excerpt:

“Holy shit,” Iwaizumi whispers, all of the air leaving his lungs.

everything just rushed out of him. he has nothing left. and then, the buzzer sounds with this:

Sixteen to fourteen. Team Argentina wins Olympic gold.

that’s the last line of clarity before everything shatters. literally, the sound breaks with the buzzer as the entire world falls away and rushes at the same time.

this is probably my favorite part of the entire fic, one of my favorite things that i have ever written to date. i put a lot of care into this. everything i wrote came from the heart, and i hope how i intended it to be read translated well.