#do NOT match this jfc

[bikexsmith]

I'm always a good girl. That sentence alone had a jolt of electricity run through Mike's spine, and he couldn't help but shoot her a look. There were many things he wanted to say in response, but he kept them hushed with his smirk saying everything his words didn't. It only grew upon watching her reactions to each movement from his hand. The circling of his wrist came to a sudden stop once she insinuated that he could do more. "Well you're in luck. Better than okay is my specialty." He placed one last kiss to her lips before trailing downwards. He wasn't about to neglect anything if he had full permission, so he started with the top half. He shimmied Cassie's bra down just enough so that he could expose her. "So beautiful," he muttered, pressing his lips to her collarbone before his path trailed towards her breasts. One hand was placed to her waist so he could remain as steady as possible while latching on to her tit and letting out a groan of approval upon feeling the bud harden against his tongue, only moving to give the same treatment to the other breast.

Once he felt enough time had been spent at her chest, his journey continued downwards. Mike was a pretty patient guy. This wasn't the time for that patience to shine through, though, or they might've been there all night. With that in mind, his lips stopped just above the line of her jeans. He unbuttoned the pants, sliding them and her undies off in one go. "There, I think we're getting a lot closer to better than okay." With another teasing grin, he found himself sliding down far enough that her legs could easily wrap around his neck if needed. "It's a lot better without all those clothes and shit in the way," he pointed out. It was for him, especially. He now had the freedom to start kissing along her inner thighs, leaving a small nip and smoothing it over with his tongue before he finally stopped teasing. Without warning, he traced a stripe from her clit down through her folds. "If I didn't think you wanted me before, well..." He trailed off, not needing to fully point out the obvious. Although the evidence wasn't on full display, he was certainly just as turned on as she seemed to be. His cheeky smile melted away once his mouth found its way back to her nub.

"I'm always a good girl," Cassie protested, but the tone of her voice had shifted, making the statement come out a whole lot dirtier than she intended. It was hard to dwell on that when Mike's hand had found its way to where it was most needed. Her fingers dug in to his arms a little harder, her grip on him tightening as he circled her clit in all the right ways. Her head fell back against the pillow, allowing him to witness every tiny change to her facial expressions as his touch sent jolts of electricity through her. "Oh, I'm more than okay. Could do this all day, actually." In that moment, it didn't even feel like an exaggeration. "But I definitely feel like I could be better than okay." She gave him a tiny nod, giving him permission to take things a step further.

[lazysublimeengineer]

Well, this didn't age well for Nagi

Sometimes I can't take Nagi seriously during moments like this.... Like what.

[skitskatdacat63]

Credits to @ayceeofspades, she was the director behind this, I was just the editor.(There's a full version of this, which I shall not be posting on main out of self preservation, but dm if you want to see it bcs I think the full version is truly a masterpiece :] )

[drop--pop--candy]

has matchmaking been this shitass for a while or is it exclusive to the grand fest

[newlandswestcoast]

why is fox news reporting on an snl crowd cheering for luigi mangione 💀

[convexcave]

i’m totally doing these out of order, but have another comic page

[noirhistories]

@unchained-by-intuition

normally a request to visit one of the detectives on her brother's case would be a welcome delight, validation that they're still looking into things and they haven't forgotten about jeff, so they aren't completely useless. no matter how many years have passed, jeff's murder always felt more important to her than anything more recent like the body found inside the tinder man.

maybe that was selfish, maybe everyone thought their own loss was more important than someone else's, but that still didn't earn them any sympathy from gen. her live revolved around jeff when he was alive, and it still she orbited him even in his death, a continued path that brought her places that perhaps she shouldn't have been.

but that was her business and no one else's, and no matter why she was being called down to talk to someone, she wasn't going to offer up anything except exactly what she wanted to. she'd start with cookies, a little variety mix kept safe in a tupperware tucked neatly beneath her arm as she knocked on a door frame. "hello? i had a call asking me to come in, i hope it's okay if i'm early."

[stormxpadme]

“You really think I’m safer here, don’t you?” Her fingertips painted small circles over his shirt, her gaze turned to the sky, aggression darkening her expression. She wouldn’t have fought for him any less than the others. “That’s all I still can wish for,” Scott returned quietly, the joyous moment already overshadowed again by the menace somewhere far above. “Everything else probably won’t come true.” “Then that will have to do.” His surprise at her unconditional surrender must have shown, the fine lines digging a little deeper into her forehead, around the corners of her mouth. “Rationality says I cannot protect you, Scott, not from such a threat. I simply do not have the skills yet. I can stand up for good things like today, I can be there for the students, and that’s what I need to do right now. But against an enemy like Phoenix …” She took a deep breath and shook her head through tears. “I’m just not as capable as you guys yet. I only have my heart to fight for all of you. And my heart knows I don’t want to lose what the two of us have.” As if to confirm her own decision, she let her hand rest against his chest again, over that spot where her words made his heart beat painfully fast. “I don’t want us both to die senselessly. I’ve hurt you often enough. If there’s even the slightest chance you’ll come back …” She violently fought the next sob trying to choke her words at the very idea that this was exactly what wouldn’t happen, and gratefully nestled against Scott’s hand, letting her lips rest tenderly on it before carrying on. “… then I will be waiting for you. You're asking me to forget my loyalty, my sense of duty, my friendship with Jean, and my love for the others. Then all I can ask you is to come home."

Weathered I: FOR BETTER OR FOR WORSE (#10); a fanfic by StormXPadme

[chiistarri]

what if instead of messaging me in the middle of the night about your stupid fucking girlfriend and your stupid fucking problems with her you actually act like my fucking friend and message me like how you message everyone else in our group

[chaos-footy]

okay but the lions having only two matches at the mcg in 2024 (round 5 against melbourne and round 23 against collingwood) is super cooked actually.

[euclydya]

tbis us so stupid im having somuch fun

[howthesleeplesswander]

starter for @greedbent ((oh lawd he cometh asfjdk it's the end for kaz 8'D))

Look, Kaveh was a pretty understanding guy. He truly believed that most people were inherently good deep down at their core. And if that were true, just think about how much higher those good people could strive with a little belief and encouragement!

So, yes: ninety-nine percent of the time, Kaveh made an effort to be empathetic and kindhearted. To connect with people rather than making assumptions or passing judgement.

But—! BUT.

Every once in a while, someone came along who was an exception. Not to name names, but it'd come as no surprise that a certain roommate of his had more or less invented this category. It wasn't that Kaveh didn't want to give those people all the same kindnesses, mind you! It was just...hard to do that when a person did everything in their power to purposely drive him to his breaking point.

This was another one of those times. There were two of them, now. Just lovely.

When Kaveh burst through the door of the busiest tavern in Sumeru City, the storm clouds in his expression were starkly out of place. Any hope of drinking and merriment this evening had already been dashed—and he'd just about had it with the person he knew had to be responsible. Again.

Vermilion eyes scanned the crowd, passing over anyone wearing a single speck of color or with any trace of warmth, compassion, or overall joy for life in their expressions. And when he finally spotted the man he searched for, Kaveh bristled like an enraged rishboland tiger. (Well...more like a rishboland kitten, really. Before there were any claws or fangs or intimidating features to speak of.)

"Hey!" A harsh shout disrupted the atmosphere for a few beats. Kaveh ignored those who turned to stare in favor of pointing at the black-clad figure across the room. Storming up to Kaz with his feet stomping like a toddler, he plastered on his best 'no-nonsense' face.

"Alright, what did you do this time?" No point in false pleasantries; considering Kaz never even tried to hide his disapproval of Kaveh's continued survival, they were well beyond that. "Jesper was supposed to meet me for dinner over an hour ago! He would never just stand me up like that, and yet this is the second time this has happened since you guys came back to Sumeru. I know it has to be your doing, so you might as well come out with it!"

[eiraisnthere]

everywhere i go etc etc

[vole-mon-amour]

"wrong face", "wrong voice" how about you stfu?

we all agree that this is the wrongest opinion out there right?

[shidoukanae]

Things about Paris the manhwa just does not fucking talk about:

-The thing he’s shown smoking in the beginning of the story is kava which apparently he’s using to treat insomnia. Which therefore makes his comments about how Helene's visage keeps him up at night in the manhwa very interesting in hindsight (and might also make sense why he feels maddened by her existence)

-One thing the light novel talks about that the manhwa doesn't do a very good job of is that Paris awakening as a dragon basically isolated him from the rest of the world to the point it's part of the reason why he was driven so mad. He's instinctually repulsed from humans as they're not part of the same species as him (which is!! very interesting worldbuilding!!! especially considering he takes on a human form!!) and has been left feeling alone for so long that it's basically made him unable to view humans around him as real people to care about

-Fian's existence in Paris's life is a REALLY FUCKING GOOD THING FOR HIM. You can just feel how much happier he is now that there's another of his species in his life and the overprotective big brother vibes he gives off towards Fian is actually stupidly cute.

Also really found it interesting too that he wants to keep away humans from Fian and shows possessiveness towards Fian because Fian is a dragon like him (and the fact he sends Lyla to where Fian is after figuring out that Lyla is Fian's "fairy" really speaks volumes of how much he cares about Fian)

-it's interesting to note too that Paris makes some interesting commentary where he laments why the dragons of Kylon want to get along whereas the siblings of Belliana want to kill each other. Him wondering if the instinctual bond dragons share can be broken is also interesting...

-Paris: I do not care for humans i only care for other dragons and will protect Fian if I have to from everyone but the fairy he adores

also Paris: so hey there's this really pretty elf descendant gal and i kind of maybe keep finding my thoughts straying back to her...pretty sure this won't be a problem though owO

-Paris’s first meeting with Helene (aka, the moment where he fell for her in the original novel ig) is when he goes to steal the Silver Dragon’s Heart Fragment. Considering him doing that is how he meets Helene in the manhwa, I can’t help but wonder if he’s the only character who gets to remain consistent with his OG!self in going insane in both the manhwa/LN plots

-Paris just,,, randomly helps Lyla out when Tyrone is trying to get back at her for insulting him,,, and i still think it's a crime that this scene got omitted from the manhwa (as well as scene of him following Lyla out of curiosity and then connecting the dots of who she is and leading her to Fian the moment he realizes how special she is to Fian). He's a fucked-up character but dear god do I find it impossible to hate him when he continuously shows the level of complexity that i crave seeing in characters

-”...his feelings for Helene were more of an obsession born of genuine possessiveness than love” 

*looks at manhwa!Paris*

Yep that’s certainly him to a T. Sure hope he gets character development in the novel so i have hope he’ll get it in the manhwa and actually fall in love with Helene instead of,,, that

-really love that Lyla is still canonically spooked by him (she should be!!!). All these additional details about Paris also makes me D: bc jfc she is not kidding when she says he’s a psychopath and i hope her timeline’s version of him is a lot better of a person (esp to Helene if he indeed is still on track to being love interests with her like in the manhwa!!)

-”male protagonist from a broken family” DO TELL MORE LYLA DO TELL MORE. I know his father’s treatment of him is kind of fucked-up from the manhwa but i wanna know more about his home life im begging!!

-also Lyla calling him the male protagonist is really fucking funny to me. Lyla dear I think you meant to call him the antagonist holy fuck

-not sure if Paris is on track to being lovers with Helene in the LN's timeline but the connotation is there that he will. really interested to see how their relationship will progress in this timeline because genuinely the chemistry between them in the LN is different from in the manhwa

[pathoscleaved]

@valour-bound is stuck within the web, and cannot escape.

THE STARS OFFICE, EARLY MORNING: ANOTHER ALL-NIGHTER. Streams of light break in through the white window shades, illuminating a sole figure's silhouette. Captain Wesker sits in his brown leather chair, feet kicked up upon the cherry wood of his desk. Glasses are off, thrown haphazardly across the swirling, dark brown and burgundry grain, and fingers knead tension out of the bundle of stress between his eyebrows. He wears his usual attire, but his tactical vest is off and laying in the seat in the corner of his office. 

Albert is... a mess. 

Dark hues of purple decorate his under eyes, and he has been sleeping even less than usual. His carefully brushed, spun-gold locks are back to their more unkempt placement, as if they had decided to rebel against his gel. His muscles ache with lactic acid buildup, the pressure enough to make him more sluggish - and within, a storm churns, rotating faster and faster.

Since Christopher Redfield had been attacked and so gregariously injured by an assailant, Wesker has been to himself, only coming out of his office to bark orders and recieve reports. He seems to ignore everyone but Chris, as if the rest of the STARS team is just a distraction, or he pays them little attention. So unlike the man who made it his duty as captain to build and keep a strong repertoire with his team. And when he does give Chris his attention, it is fleeting -

Whenever he sees the marksman, all he can see is the crimson slowly overtaking the concrete and Redfield's pale form, like Chris was getting tucked into a blanket of blood. The fear and panic that rushes through him when he remembers how quickly he offered up his own vein for a blood transfusion, and the relief when he started being stable, is an acknowledgement he cannot run from: he is hopelessly in love with Christopher Redfield.

He doesn't remember when the feelings started getting uncontrollable, just that one moment, Albert viewed him as that really handsome pilot who saved his life during the Gulf War, and the next, his best friend whom he could not live without. Chris had become a permanent fixture, as reliable as his own hands, and the experience of almost losing him had shaken him to his core.

In the orphanage where he grew up, he had always been taught to never let another impact him as such. That emotions were little more than tools that the exceptionally bright could manipulate.

It had developed out of his control, and Albert felt he was being devoured alive with want. Chris dominated his thoughts. 

After filing reports for what feels like centuries into the early morning, the captain grabs his belongings (a set of keys, his glasses which go back into place so easily upon his features, his fingerless gloves that he shoves on, and a leather backpack that he slings over his shoulder), and meanders out of his office. Clicking the light and turning his back to the rest of the STARS headquarters, Wesker rubs sleep from his eyes and yawns as he sets about locking his door. His keys rattle and jingle while he turns the lock, and when he moves to leave, that storm inside of him swells when he sees Chris, asleep, on a stack of folders at his own desk. He looks so peaceful, the soft rise and fall of his chest enough to soothe Wesker's fears. No blood, no losing him, just his steady breath -

Oh, how he loves him more.

Deciding that he cannot leave him there, Albert pads over and stands behind him for a moment. Chris smells so good that he leans down a little and breathes him in - one un-gloved hand moving to bury itself in short, dark strands. Soothing touches, soothing strokes. 

"Chris," he whispers, "wake up."

And when the other rouses from sleep, Albert moves away quickly and gives his shoulder a squeeze.

"I'll take you home. You shouldn't be driving. You're still recovering."

Albert's own blossoming splotch of blue, yellow, black, and purple reminds him of that, too. 

His blood had pumped within Chris's veins to keep him alive. And Albert had never felt the urge to give quite so much. He had almost passed out from it.

By the time Chris comes out to meet him and slides into the passenger seat of Wesker's Jaguar, Albert is tapping the steering wheel to some Vivaldi that blares through the black car's speakers. 

"Put on your seatbelt," he orders, waits for it to be done, and then peels off towards the direction of Chris's apartment. Wesker is silent, keeping his distance, ignoring the fact that Redfield's presence still makes him feel like he's buzzing. The drive isn't too bad, not enough people on the road to cause any issues or traffic. The only companion to the Jaguar as it coasts down the street is the occasional stop sign or street light.

They pull up to the curb, and Albert climbs out. He almost hops back into the car and drives off, but something keeps him rooted there, and he cannot leave him. To do so would be agony. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his slacks and walks on, his Oxfords clicking against the concrete.

And as he walks behind Chris, he realizes this is the first time they'd been truly alone since the incident when he'd almost lost his best man.

When he comes to the door of the complex, the thought to turn and run back to the safety of his car does strike his mind, and yet, when Chris turns to say goodbye, and those blue-brown eyes look at him, Albert falls into them, and he knows... he knows that he is going to change their dynamic forever. 

"Chris," he whispers, "wait. I - "

Genuine feelings are so difficult.

Albert's hand reaches and wraps around Chris's wrist, to keep him there, too.

"I want to apologize."

The sentence feels heavy in his throat, but Bert persists.

"I know you wonder why I have been keeping my distance. It is... because I almost lost you."

Glasses are pulled off with the other hand and placed into shirt pocket, blue eyes shining with something intense and inexorable, if Albert did not know that the name for the emotion was love. 

The captain leans in close, resting his forehead to Chris's.

"If you haven't noticed," he says, a smirk quirking his lips to the side, "that thought causes me a lot of grief."

The smirk turns into a ghost of a genuine, happy smile, and Wesker's other hand moves to rest against the side of Chris's neck.

"It is because I love you, Christopher. I do."

The wind whips around them, and Albert can barely help it when he closes the distance between his and Chris's mouths. Both hands move to cradle Chris close, a bracket that means he cannot get away from this bestowal of affection.

It is a kiss of claiming, of longing, of devotion and possession, of devouring. Wesker's fingers curl along his carotid, thumb gently tracing Redfield's pulse as he desperately tries to prove how much he means his words. His nose presses into Chris's cheek, and with each passing second, Albert finds himself falling deeper and deeper, soul intertwining with Chris's in a loop, an ouroboros, that never stops.