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#soaking wet showdown
AND WE HAVE A WINNER TO THE SONIC POOR LITTLE MEOW MEOW SHOWDOWN!!!
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With a whopping 67.3 percent of the 1727 people that voted, Tumblr has decided that Metal Sonic is the Poorest of Little Meow Meows!!! To get here he defeated Neo Metal Sonic (AKA himself), The Mirage Express, his father Eggman, Kit the Fennec and Infinite the Jackal. As part of his win, he gets an all expense paid trip to Seaside Island! Soak in that sun!
Congrats buddy, talk to your sister Belle about being an emancipated minor though.
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In second place is Infinite the Jackal! Having gotten only 32.7 percent of the vote, he still fought valiantly, and if Metal didn't (understandably) have such a huge number of fans he probably would have won. To get here he defeated Fleetway Super Sonic, Jet the Hawk and Dave the Intern. As part of the second place package, he gets a plastic #2 pin I found in the Dollar Store's dumpster and a wet blanket. Don't worry you rabies infested puppy, we still love you, and many would argue that 2nd place only increases your Poor Little Meow Meowness.
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In 3rd place is Kit the Fennec!! He defeated Agent Stone, Mephiles the Dark and his sister Surge the Tenrec, only to be defeated by Metal Sonic, though he secured 3rd place by defeating Dave the intern! As part of his package, he gets a chocolate Wendy's Frosty and a pat on the head.
As an additional bonus, all of the winners were offered therapy, though this gift was turned down by all three of them.
If for whatever reason you liked my... idk vibe(tm) you can find the mod of this blog over at @dreaminginmysoup, who knows though! More might come out of this blog, stay tuned for a bit ;)
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dujour13 · 6 months
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Owlcatober 4. Luck
part 3 of The Prodigal Tiefling - also on AO3
(CW dead bodies, human sacrifice)
“Knight-Commander. You haven’t slept in at least forty-eight hours. Now that you brought my wife back safely, I’m officially declaring bedtime.”
“I just have to make sure—”
“About face, soldier.” Anevia seized his shoulders and turned him toward his tent among the trees at the base of Lost Chapel Hill. He almost expected a boot in the backside.
“Fine. Wake me at midday.” Maybe a couple hours’ sleep would prevent him making rash decisions, like running the Hellknight paralictor who’d invited himself along on the crusade out of the camp before he could make another scathing remark.
Scathing remarks that hit too close to home.
The paralictor was right, anyone minimally competent would never have let this happen. The Crusade had been woefully unprepared.
If only he’d deployed more scouts, reinforced camp defenses, put a stop to the drunkenness and gambling, and been more vigilant for traitors, just as the Inquisitors kept warning him to do even as he sent them packing back to Nerosyan.
Yet he had to stay true to his vision. That sleepless night at the Defender’s Heart when the Queen had proposed he take up the banner of the Fifth Crusade, his dreams of igniting the flames of freedom to fight the Abyss felt like divine inspiration, as if Desna Herself breathed hope into his heart so that he could lead this Crusade in a whole new fashion, one never attempted before, like his homeland Andoran a grand experiment in the strength of egalitarianism.
There would be hitches. He’d never deluded himself otherwise. But this was one big hitch, and entirely his fault.
The moment he closed the tent flap behind him his whole body shuddered violently. This was why he didn’t want to sleep, and why he didn’t want to be alone. The last thing he needed was time to think.
The gargoyle disaster. The last-ditch march on the Lost Chapel. Crusaders transformed into ghouls and hung from meathooks. The showdown with Nulkineth. Another surge of power like the one at the Gray Garrison, this one stronger yet, making him feel too big for his body, like his insides were made of pure, boiling stars and magic, like he was an alchemist’s bomb and the glass was cracking. This whole thing was one huge cosmic mistake.
His hand went to the butterfly pendant at his throat. Lady of Dreams. Wake me, tell me this is a nightmare.
He dropped onto his bedroll and shakily tried to remove his soaking boots and socks, until one sock stuck and he didn’t think he had the strength to peel it off his leg and he began to sob.
And the worst of it.
Woljif.
Of course he ran. He had every reason to run. Why did it bother him so much?
The Knight-Commander crumpled onto his bedroll, one wet sock halfway off, crying into the crook of his arm.
Gods, they had to find him, out there alone in the Worldwound. If the gargoyles didn’t get him something else would before long, resourceful as he was, and that would be one more death on Siavash’s conscience he really didn’t need.
The Sellen! I’m sure of it.
Pretty sure.
With the renewed energy of the last dying spark of hope Woljif waded through tall grasses onto the riverbank and began to stagger downstream, boots dragging on glacial gravel. He reckoned Kenabres couldn’t be that far now. Probably. Maybe.
Half-dead from exhaustion he didn’t even see the remains of the campfire until he almost stumbled on it. His feeble heart leapt. Civilization!
The campsite was by no means fresh, but strewn around the ashes were comforting signs actual people had been here, maybe only a day or two ago. They’d pulled bleached logs into a circle around their fire, all cozy-like, and roasted something on whittled sticks that still smelled tantalizingly of grease.
Not far now. Just a little rest and a few more hours’ walk and we’ll be there.
Where? Wherever—a hunters’ lodge or a farm or the temple of an evil god or anything would do at this point. He knew his last dregs of strength would soon run dry.
Knees wobbling, Woljif lowered himself onto one of the logs and then jumped up again in horror as it ceded with a disgusting, foul-smelling sigh under his weight.
A dead body.
Dry-heaving to within an inch of his life he crawled blindly away toward the river.
It was bad. A couple days old, ashen-skinned, bloated and fly-ridden. A human man, stripped to his trousers, his hands bound tightly behind him, and a great, ragged hole carved out of his chest like somebody didn’t quite know how to get to the heart and had to dig around. When he realized the dark patches on the river gravel were blood, their pattern suddenly resolved itself into a sloppy pentagram.
His head spun, his limbs felt like lead, every inch of him hurt. The hunger was a raging animal tearing him up from the inside.
Woljif lay flat on the gravel and moaned at the cursed morning sky overhead.
I’m not gonna make it. This is it. End a’ my miserable, pathetic life. How’s that for tragedy. He died young and poor, tossed on the riverbank like an old rag for nothin’ but crows to find and eat out his eyeballs. Never had time to strike it rich. And just when things were lookin’ up, and he had his legacy and fr—associates and everything.
Tears rolled down Woljif’s temples and soaked into his curls.
And nobody could care less.
As soon as his head hit the folded-up cloak he used as a pillow, all the pent-up anguish exploded into Siavash’s skull, hammering so he thought he’d never be able to sleep. He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes as if to hold his skull together and played his last resort card: prayer.
Great Dreamer, Song of the Spheres, Lady of Luck.
Help.
All right, I know you’re not going to come down and sort out this whole mess, so I just ask one thing. One little thing is all, though gods know I don’t deserve it. Not for me.
Just make sure Woljif is safe. Please.
The prayer was barely finished before sweet oblivion took him.
Though he’d given up all hope, lying there on the riverbank until Pharasma took pity on him just felt too pathetic even for him. Woljif eventually hauled himself to his aching feet and carried on trudging down the river, mind blank, regret clawing at his heart and the shadow raging in his ears.
It was for sure talking to him for real now.
Unless he’d gone completely off his head, which was more than likely.
Especially because he now thought he could smell nice, crispy roasting meat on the wind. No way that was real.
Or was it?
Had his luck turned? The smell jolted him out of his daze so thoroughly he got his wits back just in time to stop himself from stumbling like a madman into the campsite that he soon located. Instead he laid low, listening in on the morbid conversation around the campfire and plotting his salvation. Some poor sod in mud-stained Iomedean colors languished roped to a tree while the cowled figures around the fire debated how best to go about removing his heart still beating, because surely that would invoke the most powerful of demonic magics, and then they would have it made.
So that’s their game.
Idiots. I can pull this off.
He drew the Moon of the Abyss out from his collar so that it shone in full view, summoned up a good gout of blue flame, and stepped into the circle of firelight with all the semblance of self-assurance he could muster when he felt like he was about to pass out.
“Hail Baphomet.”
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stony-ao3-feed · 8 months
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Thunderstruck
Read it on AO3
by ashes0909
When Tony Stark accepted his invite to Tiberius's wedding, he didn't expect to end up soaking wet, or in the middle of a superhero versus alien showdown, or to meet his soulmate.
Words: 1393, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Categories: M/M
Characters: Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Tiberius Stone, Original Alien Character(s)
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Superhero Steve Rogers, Tony Stark isn't a Superhero, Soulmarks, Tiberius Stone's Wedding, Thunder and Lightning, Getting Together
Read it on AO3
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bean-pole-art · 1 year
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following is almost 1k of rhysothy goncharov au. under the cut cause yeah. it’s almost 1k long
His back slammed against the wall of the bridge. It was done, it was finally done.
Past hours seemed like a blur to him. Everything from Jack’s offer to the poker night with Timothy to Sasha’s shot against his collarbone to the showdown right there and then. His own heartbeat drummed in his ears, as he tried to catch a break. The early morning sun started to rise, basking Rhys with the dawn of a day he wasn’t supposed to live until.
Where was he even gonna go next? It all seemed said and done. Jack laid dead in the ditch on the motorboat, coating the fresh white paint with red. Sasha took the other one, going god knows where with that other woman Rhys wanted to call his friend. All those other people? Dead in the ditch, awaiting the judgment. Hell, maybe Rhys himself awaited the judgment himself.
If there was one person worth a damn, he was even more dead than the rest.
With nowhere to go, he simply sat there, still trying to catch a breath. There was nothing there, nothing in the future. Just the smoke coming off of the boat, filling Rhys’ lungs. All while his heart ached for the ending that wasn’t written for him.
Then suddenly he heard it. A splash of water, a hand gripping the edge of the bridge. Startled, Rhys ran towards it, exchanged his own hand, helping the drowned man out.
Several pulls and he was there. Gasping for air, soaking wet, on his knees before him, with only one hand to spare.
Rhys’ heart stopped in place, “Timothy.”
“In your presence,” coughed up Timothy brushing off the longer hair from his face. “I’m… Oh god…”
“Tim!”
A muffled scream escaped Rhys’ mouth, as he tried to catch him before he fell. Cradling him in his arms, he helped him sit down. His mind was racing, almost disbelieving he was even alive. Without a second thought, Rhys took off the jacket, finally returning Timothy’s possession to him.
“P-Please, tell me…” Timothy muttered, still coughing up. “You killed him.”
“He’s as dead as they can be. Trust me, I made sure,” he nodded, softly cradling Timothy, hoping he would get a bit warmer. “But you… You-You… I thought you were…”
“C’mon. I know how to swim, buttercup. I wouldn’t let my shithead brother live past me. Even 10 minutes,” Timothy smiled. Oh, that smile that melted his heart away.
“Damn right,” Rhys smiled as well, yet the exhaustion finally came through. With one movement, his head fell onto Timothy’s shoulder.
Who knew how long they stayed there. All Rhys knew that Timothy was alive, right there and then, despite everything. Despite Jack slicing his hand away. Despite throwing him aboard. And Rhys himself lived, despite how many gunshots went through to him.
“How was her… Sasha. She’s gone?” said Timothy, in a faint voice.
“Yes. Took all the money too.”
“Damn… I’m sorry…”
“It is what it is. I don’t think we were the right mix anyway,” Rhys sighed. That was probably the least of his problems.
A low hum escaped Timothy’s throat, placing his chin on the top of Rhys head. “So what now?”
Those words probably had never manifested within him. This time? They were true, “I don’t know. I have… Nothing.”
Timothy’s hand gripped onto his back, pulling him closer. What was there left for him, anyway? A fallen imperium, the maniac shot and dead, his wife running away. All that was left was now and then. Right in Timothy’s arms.
And maybe that was all that he needed.
“Hold on,” as Timothy said, Rhys looked up at him and got away from his grip. “I think you deserve to see this.”
Puzzled at first, Rhys noticed Timothy’s hand went to that soaked eyepatch of his. Ever since he met him, he wanted an answer to what was that so badly. The only one he got was that it was Timothy’s brother’s work. Now before him was an answer. A blinded eye, followed by a scar that always peeked just a little bit behind it.
“If I could, I’d kill the bastard twice,” Rhys muttered, his hand slowly going right to Timothy’s cheek.
All that was left was that stare of Timothy’s. The blinded eye and the one blue eye, one Rhys was ready to drown in.
“When he did this, I had nowhere to run. He took everything from me… As well,” he sighed, letting his own hand against his. “Rhys, you and I… That’s all we have left now.”
There truly was something haunting about him. The brother of one of the biggest mafiosos around, one that was forced to operate that dreaded casino as a cover up. When the casino was blown into pieces, he truly had nowhere to go. All when Rhys himself lost every piece of his life, the status, the mansion, his wife, all his friends by the doings of the same man. Every phone call manipulating him, every step of his calculation.
Timothy knew how it was. In all honesty, he was the only one who understood from the minute they met each other – tangled in lies, longing for a life on their own. A life they were given within the sound of a gunshot.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Rhys muttered, drawing his fingers against the arch of Timothy’s face.
Still close to him, he got off the cigars – all that was left on him when his house burnt down. Getting one in his mouth, he handed Timothy the other. A feeble attempt to warm them both up, yet one that was always there. One flick of his lighter and both the cigars burnt in their mouths.
The clock struck another hour. For the first time, Rhys didn’t care what time it was.
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Note
I would like to propose an event. One of great proportions.
Some say it never happened. Any bystanders who saw this multiple-week showdown will never say a word.
They called it: "The Great Devildom Watergun War"
It all starts, unsurprisingly, with IK and Mammon
IK is around the corner, zeroing in on her target who is oblivious to her scheme
As soon as Mammon turns around, and is none the wiser, IK rounds the corner and sprays him with her water gun, right in the back of the head
He, of course, freaks out, because *where the hell is this water coming from*, but once he realizes that it's IK he bolts after her (she ran away wheeze-laughing)
Now, that was far from the end of it
IK would continue to soak Mammon at any old opportunity
But what she didn't expect was for him to *fight back*
Mammons standing in the kitchen with his back turned, and IK sees this as her moment. She's got her super soaker *ready*.
She sneeeaks up into the entryway, and poises her watergun
And then Mammon turns around, giant watergun poised, and absolutely drenches IK with his demon sized water gun
She stands there in shock for a second, while Mammon just grins at her, before all hell breaks loose and a full on water war is waged in the kitchen
Lucifer is not very pleased with the state of the walls, or the state of the floors, or the state of the.....everything
In Levi's case, it goes much the same way, except she'll spray him from around corners and then *hide* afterwards.
It's been DAYS and Levi is still *so confused* as to why he keeps randomly getting sprayed with water, but when he turns around nothing is there ?? He thinks the House is haunted and keeps bringing it up at breakfast, and Mammon just high-fives IK under the table
Once Levi *does* find out though, he buys this multi-barreled super soaker that looks lile a bunch of snakes, and the water shoots out of their mouths
Now there's a three-way war in the house because Levi wanted to get back at IK, but Mammon isn't gonna just sit there and let Levi attack her like this .... but at the same time IK is still actively spraying Mqmmon so he OBVIOUSLY has to defend himself
And soon ... it would spread to the other members of the house too ..... oh dear
it's a miracle levi hasn't gotten too into the heat of battle and summoned lotan on them, but it's not like the damage is any lighter for it....
there is water on the walls. there are puddles all over the hard floors, and there are squelchy patches that contain a metric litre in the carpeted ones. somehow they got the chandelier in the living room, which is steadily dripping an entire pond. everyone is sopping wet. lucifer has never been so close to insanity in his goddamn life
yeah, it'd take a relatively simple spell to dry stuff off, even if it'd take forever, but it's the principle of it, you know? that his brothers would have the audacity to think this behaviour is acceptable?! he conveniently forgets can ignore that ik started it, but they should have known better. sure, he technically also tossed a giant pitcher of water at mammon, but like, he deserved it
anyway, his brothers are all very lucky none of them ended up maimed, and he's going to go dry off and they can all manage the clean up, thank you very much, and if the house of lamentation isn't spick and span and dry as a bone come tomorrow morning, oh they don't even want to imagine what he might-- did he just hear ik sneeze
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shadowsshowdown · 10 months
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Deus Ex: Human Revolution Shadow’s Showdown 63
youtube
The Friendly Soul.
Berlin 2017.
The roof of the Lemon-Lime collapsed, hitting the ground with momentum. This was accompanied by the sound of breaking glass, the ringing of the metal structure and the crunch of crumbling concrete. Damien refused to let Evie stand in front of the ruins of the club. More than questioning, he was afraid that someone might find them so he led her into one of the side alleys. Pulling out his phone, he dialled the number of his private bodyguard and walked away from the girl.
"Did you caught him?" asked Damien, assured Evie can't hear their conversation. "Of course." "We're in the next alley." "Do you think she'll buy it?" "She'll buy anything. She's stupid and naive."
A quarter of an hour later, a rumbling and loud, long screams could be heard from the depths of the alley. The street lamp shook under the impact. Immediately afterwards, a man collapsed at Evie's feet. He might have been just over twenty years old. The brown-haired guy looked quite ordinary, wearing jeans, a thick wool sweater and a jacket.
"That's him," growled the bodyguard and kicked the man who was now lying on his back.
The man cringed and shrieked.
"Did he confess?" asked Damien when the young man stopped screaming. "Of course he did."
Blood was pouring from the stranger's nose and a cut eyebrow arch. He also had a black eye and, judging by his face contorted with a grimace of pain and his arm wrapped around his torso, probably one or more broken ribs. Evie opened her eyes wide and covered her mouth with her hand, paralysed with horror.
"Here is our arsonist," Damien announced. "Now he will suffer the consequences of his deed!"  
The kick aimed at his abdomen was so strong that the man cringed in pain, and a wet spot blossomed on his pants.  
"See? He peed himself out of fear. He's about to shit himself next," the bodyguard reacted and kicked the young man in the back. "Damien, tell him to stop!" squealed the girl.
Damien had so far watched dispassionately as his bodyguard bullied his victim. However, he had to maintain at least some semblance of not being so cruel after all. Evie had to trust him for his plan to work without problems. The man nodded and the subordinate reluctantly stopped further beating and kicking. The victim was already barely alive anyway. His face was so swollen that he was almost unidentifiable.
"You're right.” Damien turned his head towards the girl. “You're the one who should punish him," he said, snatching the gun from the bodyguard's holster, pressing it into her hand and unlocking it.
Evie didn't want to tighten her fingers on the cool grip, but Damien forced her to do so. She felt the rough surface under four fingers, and the fifth index finger touched the trigger. The weapon was heavy, it seemed to her that it weighed a ton.
“Hold it with both hands,” ordered with a sharp tone. “Yes like this.” "Damien, please stop, we've already scared him enough!" she screamed after realising he was not joking. "For the fuck’s sake! He burned Lemon-Lime! Because of him, Joe is dead, and you want to take pity on him?!" "I can't kill him! Besides, that's what the police are for!" "You can," he convinced her, assisting in holding the gun putting the barrel to the kneeling man's forehead and squeezing the trigger.
The girl closed her eyes and pressed her lips together. She did not want to see his wide-open eyes begging for mercy. She breathed hurriedly and her whole body trembled. The roar of gunfire spread through the alley, drowned out by sirens and general noise. No one reacted. The head exploded like a watermelon, splattering blood, brain fragments and bones. The body slid inertly to the ground. Damien didn't wait for Evie to say or do anything. The bodyguard handed him a handkerchief soaked in sleeping remedy, with which Kratos covered the girl's mouth. Once her body was numb, he threw her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and together with the bodyguard disappeared into the depths of the alley where a black off-road car with tinted windows stood parked.
Despite his detailed plan, Damien could not have foreseen that the entire incident was being watched by an unwanted observer.
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Detroit. Connor's apartment.
The man continued looking at his socks. The left one was invariably gayer than the right. He had said far too much, but Laura left him no choice. The hope remained alive in him that there would not be too many questions and suspicions, that everything would remain as before, and that they would continue to be friends because, in fact, in this shitty world, Laura had become someone very close to him. So close that it pained him to keep every secret he had from her.
"Thank you for telling me about this. At least you're the only one being honest with me."
Connor bit his lower lip so hard that he felt the sweet-metallic taste of blood in his mouth. Honesty was far from his mind. Lack of choice forced him into it. The only thing he had for her was a lie, followed by another and another. The man looked at Laura and forced as sincere a smile as possible in response.
"But why didn't you tell me about it earlier?"
He expected questions, but he didn't have ready answers to them. He had to come up with something plausible in a split second. The best way was to play on emotions, to show remorse. That always works.
"Because I knew Damien was looking for you, and I have the evidence from that day. If he used you to get it, I wouldn't forgive myself." "Since you have something that can be used against him, you should have used it long ago!" "Don't shout," he said calmly. His gaze moved from the socks to the wall. "Damien is too cunning and has extensive connections. This is not as simple as ordinary cases. You have to act with caution." "You're right, I'm sorry," she replied quietly, crumpling the quilt in her hands. "I had already forgotten how dangerous he is." "Don't think about it now, you need to gain strength. I'm sure Pritchard misses you," he joked.
Laura laughed, wrapping her hands around her belly. She clenched her teeth in pain and closed her eyes. "Unfortunately, I can't laugh yet."
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Connor made sure she didn't lack anything. He changed her dressings, made sure she took her medicine as prescribed, cooked and took care of the cat. He helped her once she started getting out of bed. Laura saw this as an attempt to suppress guilt, to soothe her conscience, but she quickly got rid of the thought. Although her physical condition was improving day by day, her psyche resembled a post-war field, strewn with corpses and soaked in blood. Connor, as much as he wanted to, could not help her. He was busy preparing dinner when he heard the sound of a chair being pushed back and a protracted gasp brought on by fatigue.
"You were supposed to be in bed. You're still weakened," he said with displeasure, stirring the chicken in the pan.
The meat sizzled when he added a bit of broth, a cloud of steam raised almost under the grey cabinets hanging on the wall. He shook the pan and added the chopped vegetables.
"I need your help,” Laura stated with a firm tone. “You can see the state I'm in, and it's not the fault of the wounds. I have thought about this for a long time and I think that only talking to Rupert can help me." "I can call him, maybe he will agree to come," he suggested. "No. I have to go to his place, only there I can open up. The atmosphere of his house is...magical if you understand what I mean." "Of course I understand. There are places spreading auras we can't explain. However, that doesn't change the fact the journey is risky. Your wounds still haven't healed, and you have difficulty walking..." "That's why I need to see Rupert," she interrupted him, and the tone of her voice was still firm.
Connor set the pan aside and turned toward the table looking at Laura intently and thoughtfully. Her green eyes looked at him almost pleadingly, they were unnaturally large and sparkling. He knew that if he refused her now, everything they had built so far would collapse like a house of cards. It was a form of unintentional emotional blackmail. Another possibility Connor didn't even allow into his mind.
"Fine, I agree but we'll go there in my car. Only then I will be calmer." "Thank you," she replied.
The man noticed that her face brightened and for a moment he even saw a smile. Maybe this idea isn't quite so bad after all.
Laura returned to the room, lay down on the bed and reached for the phone. She hesitated for a long time before dialling Rupert's number, withdrawing her finger from the green handset showing on the phone screen. Finally, she made up her mind and touched the icon. After a few beeps, she decided that probably no one would answer the phone. The woman sighed with resignation wanting to end the call but heard Demelza's invariably polite voice, which always made her feel better. Unfortunately, Rupert was not at home at the time, but she assured Laura that he would want to meet with her. Laura already wanted to say goodbye and end the conversation, but the woman stopped her at the last moment. For a while she only heard a quiet conversation in which she could not distinguish the words, only Rupert's voice saying with full conviction "But of course I will, even today," she heard clearly and felt the fear completely disappear. She made an appointment for the next day and hardly managed to stop the conversation because Demelza kept saying how happy she was to see her. Laura was also looking forward to tomorrow when she would return to Rupert's secluded and elegant office, where she felt safe.
Connor brought her the dinner he had just finished and handed the woman one of the plates. Surprisingly, he was beginning to get used to the combination of food and bed. All those overwhelming scenarios about the types of stains on the bedding and how they were formed disappeared from his mind as if they never existed. Laura convinced him to sit next to her, rest his back against the pillow and just enjoy the moment.
"Connor?" the woman tried focusing his attention. "Co-nn-or?" she repeated, poking him lightly in the side with her elbow. "What's the matter? Are you feeling bad?" he asked, jerking his whole body restlessly.
By the skin of his teeth, the remains of the chicken would have landed on the bed sheets.
"I'm fine, but you've been in another dimension," she muttered, finishing eating. "What were you thinking about?" "About nothing in particular," he answered evasively and put his plate down on the nightstand. "If you don't want to explain, just say it straight out. I'm not a child."
The man sighed and once again began to observe his socks. The less grey one was starting to wear through.
"I can't remember the last time I felt free," he said. "What do you mean free? You are all the time unless I don't know something," the woman furrowed her brow.
Connor shook his head. "Ever since I agreed to participate in the program and became an aug I never really felt free, much less human."
"Joe also tried hiding who he was. He often wore gloves and rarely walked around in t-shirts. I can't imagine how hard it must have been for you." "Personally, I did not expect such hatred. I was told all the time that I would be special, but the world at the time was not ready to accept enhanced people. When I first showed up at the police station, everyone looked at me like I was a freak. My partner Hank Anderson expressed his dislike for me by making biting comments or refusing to use my help. It took us a long time to establish a friendlier relationship. At least his dog, Sumo liked me right away." Connor's laugh was forced. "Gavin Reed, on the other hand, never accepted me. He wanted me to brew him coffee because clanks are only good for that. He always questioned my observations and conclusions even if I was right. He thought the machine could not be reliable. He took all the credit away from me and attributed it to himself." "And what about your superiors?!" Laura raised her voice and jerked her body nervously. She immediately hissed in pain. "Be careful," the man muttered. "Show the dressings," he ordered, wanting to lift up her shirt. "I'm fine, really," she tried to reassure him but to no avail. "Well, okay," she said, letting the air out loudly through her nose.
Connor inspected the stitches carefully, letting his enhanced synthetic eyes reach deeper under the skin. Although his medical knowledge was rather rudimentary, in this particular case he was given precise guidelines on what to look out for and what should concern him.
"Fortunately, everything is fine," he said. "After all, I said I'm fine. So what do your superiors say about it?" she insisted. "I see you won't give up," he sighed. "The truth is hardly anyone wanted to cooperate with the augs. The police got a lot of funding in exchange for taking me in, but the fact that I'm not human was carefully hidden from the public. Everything I did or said went through Gavin's mouth. Hank, though he had no sympathy for me, at least had the remnants of dignity not to participate in this circus." "But he also didn't stand up for you," Laura interjected. "I can't blame him for that. Hank knew that corruption in the police has deep roots and long thorns so it's better to pretend you don't care or that you're too stupid and don't focus attention on yourself." "All in all, you're right. Hank alone wouldn't change anything and would only make things worse. It's better to wait and gather evidence."
Connor nodded slowly. "Unfortunately, I didn't have time to do that. I was careless, so they decided to get rid of me. They fired me within a week on the pretext of reducing vacancies, so I started acting on my own. Hank helped me as much as possible without drawing attention. Unfortunately, soon all the leads were gone cold except one, leading to you."
"And now you're probably cursing the day you met me because I'm a walking factory of problems." "You know I actually like it?" he muttered quietly, then yawned. "I'll keep that in mind."
Dale fell asleep, not even knowing when it happened. Just like that, in his clothes, next to Laura. According to his rules, this was something reprehensible. But rules are there to be changed, bent or even broken.
We've made a choice, go fight against your fate! Pain will come with the blade Pain will wake up the despondent crowd In this dormant world somehow Unsheathe a sword not to kill Unsheathe a sword to rend those clouds above the ground Wake up, it's time to gather now
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All  chapters can be found: [AO3], [dA], [Wattpad] and [Tumblr]
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snarky-sports-report · 4 months
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The New York Giants Outshine the New England Patriots in a Rain-Drenched Showdown: Giants 10 - Patriots 7
New England Patriots 7   New York Giants 10 Hey there, football fanatics! Buckle up and hold on tight because we’ve got a game recap that’s sure to knock your socks off. The New York Giants just went head-to-head with the New England Patriots in an epic clash that left us all soaking wet (both from the rain and our tears of joy!). Get ready for a wild ride as we break down all the dirty…
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zone2uk · 5 months
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monicascot · 7 months
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水鉄砲ショーパーティWet 'n Wild!🔫 Water gun showdown!☀️
Get ready for a splashing good time as we dive into an epic water gun showdown! In this thrilling YouTube video, we're bringing you the ultimate Wet 'n Wild experience, where things are about to get soaked, exciting, and oh-so-fun! 💦🔫
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ao3feed-stony · 8 months
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Thunderstruck
by ashes0909
When Tony Stark accepted his invite to Tiberius's wedding, he didn't expect to end up soaking wet, or in the middle of a superhero versus alien showdown, or to meet his soulmate.
Words: 1393, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Categories: M/M
Characters: Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Tiberius Stone, Original Alien Character(s)
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Superhero Steve Rogers, Tony Stark isn't a Superhero, Soulmarks, Tiberius Stone's Wedding, Thunder and Lightning, Getting Together
source https://archiveofourown.org/works/48868396
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venusfrommarss · 1 year
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Soaking wet showdown & Ultimate squirter is crazy 💀
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hoesoflamentation · 3 years
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Like you did for him | Lucifer x AFAB!MC x Leviathan | 18+
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Prompt: "ultimate squirter" (thanks, Solmare!)
Pairing: Lucifer x AFAB!MC, Leviathan x AFAB!MC
Warnings: established relationship, consensual non-monogamy, lite dom!lucifer, heavy dom!levi, jealous s3x, oral s3x, fingering, squirting, brat!MC, lite degradation, praise k!nk, penetration, hair pulling, demon form
A/N: so, luci and levi (almost) tied by a difference of one vote and i really wanted to write for levi -- so now the "soaking wet showdown" is a literal showdown, and i'm h0rny af. you're welcome!! xx
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MC and Levi had a deal: whenever the other was away, they could get their needs met elsewhere... and while Levi rarely acted on their agreement, MC could hardly resist temptation.
It wasn't that they couldn't wait for Levi to return... it was that they knew it would drive him absolutely crazy.
As the literal Avatar of Envy, MC's boyfriend was prone to fits of jealous rage. And whenever he returned (and heard the dirty things MC had done while he was away), Levi fucked them territorially, as if to prove that only his cock could make them feel this good.
Just thinking about it made their swollen clit ache with desperation, their neediness flooding the space between their legs as they fingered themself in bed...
But they also knew that simply pleasuring themself wouldn't provide the same satisfaction as provoking Levi upon his return. No, they needed more than this to really get him going.
Thankfully, MC knew exactly where to go. Of all the brothers, Lucifer was one of the most comfortable with Levi and MC's arrangement -- and consequently, one of the ones who knew their body best.
The clock struck 1:00 AM as MC snuck out of their bedroom and over to Lucifer's chambers. They didn't hesitate to crack the door open, Lucifer's soft snores echoing in the hall as MC tiptoed into his bedroom. Closing the door quietly behind them, they slipped into the eldest brother's bed, as they had done a thousand times before.
Stirring from his slumber, Lucifer rolled over, instinctively slinging his arm over their body as he nuzzled close to them.
"MC," he whispered, pressing his lips against the sensitive crook of their neck. "I had a feeling I might see you tonight."
Whimpering in reply, MC arched their back against Lucifer's body, deliberately pushing their ass against his already-hardening cock.
"Use your words, love." He chuckled. "Tell me what you want."
"Please, Luci," MC whined, rubbing Lucifer's length through his clothes with their thigh. "Need you inside of me."
Smirking devilishly, Lucifer deftly rolled MC onto their back, straddling them and pinning their wrists overhead in one fell swoop. He moved so gracefully that he may as well have choreographed the sequence in advance.
"Now now, MC," he teased, his warm breath hovering just above their parted lips. "Patience is a virtue."
"So says the literal demon," MC grumbled, eliciting a genuine laugh from Lucifer.
The firstborn leaned down to brush his lips against theirs, sweet traces of peppermint toothpaste lingering on his tongue. They sighed contentedly as Lucifer's slender hands traced the outline of their silhouette -- eventually settling at MC's waist.
"Don't worry, beautiful. I'll give you what you need soon enough." Lucifer kissed them again. "There's just one thing I want to do first..."
MC gasped in surprise as Lucifer forced their legs apart. "Oh!"
Smiling in reply, Lucifer began to kiss the length of their body until his breath warmed their needy cunt. He palmed their inner thighs as his lips carved a path from their throat down to their nipples, their belly button, their hipbones...
"God, MC," Lucifer groaned. "I am simply dying to taste you."
And, without hesitation, he ran the flat of his tongue along the length of their slit, lapping up every last drop of their juices. MC inhaled sharply, hands instinctively tangling in Lucifer's raven locks, as his lips settled around their clit, suckling gently.
"You have the perfect cunt," he breathed, sending a shiver up MC's spine.
They moaned as Lucifer's thumbs gently massaged the delicate skin of their inner thighs, his tongue flicking against their swollen nub.
"Leviathan must be a fool-" He paused to brush his lips softly against their clit. "-to give you up for even a single second."
MC's hips bucked in pleasure -- but no matter how perfectly Lucifer stroked them, the feeling of his tongue alone just wasn't enough. They needed to be stretched; to feel torturously full... to be touched by him in every way.
"Give me your fingers," MC gasped. "I want to feel you inside of me."
He chuckled at their desperation. "As you wish, MC."
Knowing exactly how they craved to be touched, Lucifer slid two fingers into their dripping, aching cunt. He nimbly located the sweet spot inside, stroking it softly as he continued to latch onto their clit with his plush lips.
"How does that feel?"
Coherent thoughts evading them, MC could only nod their appreciation, hiding their flushed face in their hands while Lucifer continued to work their sopping pussy.
An audacious smirk crossed Lucifer's face as he pushed a third finger into their aching slit.
"Mm, just like that," MC breathed. "Keep going."
Lucifer forced their thighs further apart until MC's needy cunt lay on full display. His hands wandered back up to their folds; he held their lips open, giving him more access to the sensitive nub between.
With unfamiliar but exciting pressure swelling inside of them, MC closed their eyes and bit their lip. They gently tugged Lucifer's ebony locks as they rocked into the motions of his tongue, frantically chasing their impending release.
A flush of heat was already gathering at MC's core. They knew they were going to cum, and soon.
MC gripped Lucifer's hair tighter, bringing his lips closer to their drenched pussy. Their legs quivered as his tongue explored their folds, their core threatening to overwhelm them with pleasure.
"Oh, god, Lucifer," they moaned, "I'm cumming."
MC squealed as Lucifer coaxed their pussy with his fingers, milking their orgasm for everything it was worth. The sensation sent them even further over the edge.
With a cry, a sudden spurt of liquid gushed from between MC's thighs. Without stopping his movements, Lucifer groaned in pleasure, swallowing every drop of their fluids as his fingers thrust relentlessly inside of them.
After coaxing every last twitch out of MC's messy cunt, Lucifer leaned back with a satisfied smirk, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. It took MC a moment to catch their breath -- but once they did, they immediately realized what had happened.
"Lucifer, did I just squirt?"
Collapsing on the bed and turning to face them, Lucifer hummed in agreement. His breath warmed their lips as he leaned in for a peck.
"I've never done that before," MC murmured, pulling away from the kiss.
They buried their face in Lucifer's shoulder, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He only chuckled as he wrapped his arms around them and yanked MC's body closer to his, hooking one of their legs over his hip.
Through Lucifer's clothes, MC could already feel his rock-hard dick pulsing against their stomach, aching to fuck them. A fresh surge of heat swelled between their thighs in response.
"Well, then," Lucifer teased, "let's see if I can make you do it again."
. . .
"So, what did you do while I was gone?"
Levi had been back from the Ruri-chan convention for a few hours now. He and MC were relaxing in his room, MC perched in his lap while his thumbs fiddled with a video game controller.
MC smirked. This was the perfect moment to make him jealous. They shrugged nonchalantly, committed to the bit.
"Oh, not much... Lucifer made me squirt."
Levi clenched his jaw, his grip on the controller tightening until his knuckles went white. "He what?"
"Come on, baby," MC teased, gently stroking Levi's violet hair as he fumed. "You know that we agreed to see other people when you're away."
"I know about our agreement," Levi snapped, jumping to his feet and abandoning the controller. "I just didn't expect-"
MC also stood up, finishing his sentence for him:
"-that Lucifer would be able to do something you couldn't?"
Their eyes sparkled with mischief as they uttered the words. They knew it would make him feral with his cardinal sin, but they didn't care. In fact, his envy was exactly what they wanted to provoke.
A dark expression washed over Levi's face. He breathed heavily through his nostrils as he sprouted a tail and horns.
In his demon form, Levi towered over MC even more than usual. The height difference made their breath shallow; their heart skipped a beat.
"Are you saying," he hissed, "that he's better than me?"
Teasingly, MC trailed a single finger along the length of his tail. "I never said that. But, now that you mention it..."
Emitting a primal rumble from deep within his chest, Levi yanked their body flush against his. They were close enough that MC could feel how wildly his heart was beating.
Claws digging into their hipbones, Levi leaned in to nip at their ear.
"I guess I'll have to remind you how good I can make you feel," he growled, sending a shiver down their spine.
"Do it, then," MC retorted, defiantly meeting his flame-colored gaze. "Ruin me."
Grabbing their face between his hands, Levi violently crashed his lips against theirs. For a brief moment, their tongues tangled together in an intricate dance. MC couldn't help but moan into the kiss.
Levi grazed their lower lip with his fangs as they pulled apart, leaving their mouth red and swollen.
"Turn around," he barked. "Now."
MC smirked. "Make me."
Growling in frustration, he unceremoniously forced MC's body away from him, pushing on their upper back until they were positioned how he wanted them: bent forward; chest pressed against the wall. MC gasped at the sensation of the cold glass against their skin.
Behind them, Levi unbuckled his belt and slipped out of his bottoms, his hard length springing free from under his boxers. MC's pussy flooded in anticipation.
"Is this what you want, baby?" Levi teased, his other hand reaching around to unbutton MC's jeans.
MC could only whimper as Levi's hand dived beneath their waistband, caressing their pussy softly. They instinctively leaned into his touch, shimmying their bottoms down to their upper thighs.
"Tell me how much you want it, MC," Levi ordered, slapping their cunt with the head of his cock.
"You have no idea how badly I want your dick, Levi... and how badly I wanted it while you were away... how badly I always want you."
Backing up their statement, MC desperately tried to push back onto Levi. Cruelly, he withdrew. They could still feel him growing harder, but his cock was trapped between their two bodies so that there was no way they could fill themself with it. Instead, Levi started to pump his cock with one hand, overcome with lust.
The couple's unrestrained expressions were reflected back at them in the glow of Levi's fish tank, making MC's mouth water.
"If you want it so badly," Levi taunted, "then beg for it."
Tears of frustration gathered in MC's eyes.
"Levi, please," they whined. "Fill me with your cock. I wanna cum."
Levi sank to his knees, then whipped their body around to face him, shoving MC into the wall so that their back pressed into the frigid glass. One hand still worked his length while the other one forced their legs further apart.
"Ahh... such an obedient little slut." Levi's fingers glided up MC's thigh. "Don't worry, you'll get what you want eventually. But first..."
MC gasped as Levi encircled their mound with his lips, his forked tongue slipping between their folds to access their swollen clit.
The sensation was distinctly inhuman -- and overwhelming. The two ends of his demonic tongue enveloped either side of their nub, savoring them from both sides.
Somehow, Levi could sense exactly what kind of strokes they needed and when. He set a rhythmic tempo, neither too fast nor too slow; changing his pace precisely when they wanted him to do so.
Pleasure quickly overwhelmed MC, threatening to spill over into Levi's mouth. They cradled the back of Levi's head in their palm as he lapped up their juices.
"Oh, my god... if you keep doing that, I'm gonna cum."
"I'll only let you cum if you squirt for me," Levi gasped.
MC whimpered. "Then give me your fingers."
Levi groaned. MC knew that he didn't like to take orders, especially when he was in his demon form. Still, he complied anyway.
He slid two long, slender digits into their slit, slowly stroking their G-spot. Their standing position maximized Levi's access to the exact area they needed him to touch. And, after a few come-hither motions, MC felt the same familiar ache building inside their core.
"Go on, baby," Levi encouraged, fingers pumping rhythmically. "Squirt for me, just like you did for him."
His praise was exactly what MC needed to send them over the edge. They gasped as the dam burst, orgasmic fluids streaming into Levi's mouth, their overstimulated clit twitching between his lips.
Every shudder of pleasure, every burst of liquid, only fueled Levi's desperation. He eagerly coaxed as much as he could out of them -- and, the moment he sensed their exhaustion, pulled out and rose to his feet to fuck them from behind.
Arching against the wall, MC flipped over, angling their ass in the air as they pressed their forearms into the glass.
"Fuck me. I'm ready."
Burying his head in the hair at the nape of MC's neck, Levi obeyed. He slid his cock inside of them, savoring the moment of first entry. While his fingers had stretched their cunt some, the dripping walls still clung to every bit of his length, eager to be spread.
He gave them everything he had -- and, when he thought that they had taken all of it, he forced himself another inch deeper, roughly pulling their hair as an anchor.
"You like that, baby?" Levi murmured, slowly rocking his hips against their hole.
MC gasped at the mixture of pleasure and pain as they felt themself start to loosen around him. They tried to push back against his cock, but Levi limited their pace, controlling how fast and how deep they fucked with a firm grip on their ass cheeks.
He tugged on their hair a bit harder. "Does that feel good?"
"Feels so good," MC mumbled, thankful that he couldn't see how warm their cheeks had gotten with their face pressed against the wall. "Please, don't stop."
Levi smirked. "Don't worry, baby. I won't."
Gradually, he picked up his pace until his balls smacked loudly against their flesh. MC let out a whine with each strike, their muscles getting ready to contract around his cock.
Noticing the desperate look on their face, Levi chuckled. "Ready to cum for me again?"
Peering at Levi over their shoulder, MC nodded vigorously, their doe eyes welling with tears again. Heat swelled in their core; their pussy clenched around his dick with every stroke.
"God, you're such a slut for me," Levi moaned.
He held their gaze intensely, the corners of his lips twitching upward slightly as he pounded into them. MC offered a tired smile back -- a moment of fondness to interrupt their carnal desires...
Then, leaning forward, Levi whispered seductively in their ear:
"Tell me when you're close. I want to swallow you when you squirt."
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discord-ant · 3 years
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Our demons really weren't close to others before the exchange program began, huh? Imagine a lesser demon who's spent two millennia or so trying to ingratiate themselves with the brothers—flattering them just the right amount, proving themselves useful at opportune times, professing undying loyalty—and then, when an event like this Hell Game comes around, it's like: "I'd rather team up with literal angels than you!"
The human they can understand, because they have the appeal of being the adopted sibling / romantic interest, but why are the Devildom's princes—the Avatars of sin—so keen to spend every spare moment with angels.
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vhvrs · 3 years
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well if levis competing i may as well drop out
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comfortscripts · 2 years
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Still hate me? ¬ Fred Weasley
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Kinktober Day 6
Plot - You hated him. He hated you. But the line between normal tension and sexual tension is often hard to distinguish Genre - Smut ♧ {16+ Only} Pairing - Fred Weasley x Non-Gryffindor!Fem!reader Notes/Warnings - Hate sex (But like hate to cover up feelings), oral (female receiving), Fred is just cocky as hell, overstimulation, a height difference is in play, female masturbation kinda, its a bit of a dub-con as he walks in on her but all acts are consensual. This gets worst as it goes along, I'm sorry. Word Count - 2.6k
Identifying the exact moment you realised your hatred for the mischievous redhead was difficult. Maybe it was the time he charmed your hair with streaks of red and gold. Or could have been the time he broke your nose during a Quidditch match due to his reckless flying. Perhaps, it was how he constantly sought you out with the sole purpose of getting underneath your skin, and unfortunately, he always managed to rile you up.
Quidditch was like religion to many at Hogwarts and the final match was an epic showdown that no one dared to miss. Every student, teacher and creature watched anxiously from the stands as the two houses clashed with such passion and competition. The gaudy Gryffindors were always the favourites but no one could doubt that with a captain such as you, the newly revamped team was formidable.
The match felt like a blur of adrenaline for you. Shouts of strategy, quick manoeuvres and the childish remarks from a certain Gryffindor all muddled together in the giant portrait of your victory. The snitch was caught, the goals were scored and the House of Gold and Red sulked in their loss as your teammates burst into cheers of joy.
Cheering died down as the team gathered their gear in the desperate attempt to go party with their 'adoring fans'. Leaving you to enjoy the steaming showers in peace as you let the dirt of your victory wash away with the refreshing water, allowing your hands to roam your body to gently alleviate some of the ache dwelling in your muscles. The relief flooded your being as your body craved a different type of relief all together, the high of the win begging you to reach another kind of high.
Delicate digits slipped between your folds as you carefully pumped your fingers inside your tight hole, letting gentle moans fall from your lips as you grazed the needy nub. Thoughts of your pleasure and fantasies clouded your mind, so much so, that you didn't hear the stomping steps of a certain frustrated wizard. But he had heard all your pretty little moans.
Fred Weasley wasn't a saint. His mind had conjured up all types of images in the late nights as he hastily pumped his aching cock in search of release, but this, this image was enough to make him fall apart from just the sight. Soaked hair framed your face that depicted such pleasure, lower lip held tightly between your teeth as the strangled moans threaten to escape. Your figure leant against the wall as if needing the support as your fingers toyed with your perky nipples. Daring his eyes further, he watched as your small digits tirelessly thrusted into your pretty little pussy, the scene was enchanting but he knew, he couldn't just watch.
The dance your digits preformed became more sporadic as you felt the knot in your stomach begin to tighten, aching for the push of pleasure to help release your much needed orgasm. Both hands now focused on the heat between your thighs as the combination of the vicious assault on your clit was amplified by the rapid thrusts into your clenching warmth. Your eyes flung open as you felt the cord snap and the waves of pleasure crashed over your wet and needy body, shameless moans freely flowing.
Your foggy mind seemed to be playing tricks on you as the image of a certain redhead prankster appeared in your sights. Freshly washed hair darken the vibrant orange, his lean torso littered with tender freckles and those baggy sweatpants that hung loosely on his hips, allowing his rock-hard length to take form. Fred Weasley was indeed standing in front of you.
Suddenly recognising the situation, your small hands wrapped around your breasts as your legs crossed to in an attempt to retain some modesty. Already flushed cheeks now glowed with embarrassment but also with anger, directed at him and at yourself.
"Oh come on love, not like I didn't just see it all" The wizard smirked as he watched your flustered figure, trying to harness some self-control and act like the enemy he was meant to.
"What the fuck are you doing in here, Weasel?" As hard as you tried to keep your eyes planted on his, the prominent erection and chiselled body were pulling your attention and bringing back the bubbling need in your core.
Stalking closer with feigned nonchalance, the masterful trickster lined up his words carefully. "Well I was coming to congratulate you on your sub-par win. But after that little show, I think it would be better for me to show my congratulations a bit differently."
His large hand encompassed the shower handle and with a violent tug, the deafening sound of the rushing water disappeared. Heavy breaths and needy heartbeats filled the small gap between the two rivals as Fred ran his rough thumb across your lips before leaning closer to begin a deceivingly delicate dance of kisses against your glistening neck. Warmth radiated from his lips as he nibbled and sucked against your feverish skin, eliciting quiet whimpers that you willed to keep at bay.
"Aww those pretty little sounds for me?"
Defiance rattled your bones, "For you? Oh please, I hate you."
All the playful spirit vanished from his brown orbs, replaced by the competitive spark he held only for rivalling you. Standing to loom over your exposed figure, Fred couldn't help but chuckle at your lust-blown eyes. Letting his hands fall against your hips as he felt the goose-bumps reluctantly rise on your skin upon his contact. "See, I'm beginning to wonder. Do you actually hate me? Or are you just hiding your desire to be fucked?"
Swallowing a gasp, you allow your mind to run with the accusation as your memories flood with late night fantasies involving the arrogant redhead. "Nuh-uh, no, it's hate. Sorry but you have no effect on my desires." A pathetic poker face disguises your lie but a Gryffindor never turns down a challenge, especially one that he craves.
Sinking to his knees as his fingertips trail down your curves towards your glistening core, teasing the flesh of your inner thighs with chaste kisses and traced patterns. Anticipation built in your body as you felt heat rush to your pulsing warmth, refuelling your desire and the arrogant redhead was just amplifying your need.
Almost instinctively, you separated your legs, allowing your juices to coat the inside of your thighs and giving the lust-driven wizard complete access. Sliding a single digit through your slick folds before toying lightly with your plump clit, causing a strangled groan to tumble out.
"Already soaked for someone you hate apparently, can't wait to see how you are when you love me."
As the words left his lips, the slender digits entered your tight walls and began to stretch you out further than your fingers ever could. Leaning closer to lap up your delicious taste, Fred's mouth attached to your pulsing clit, sucking and flicking the sensitive nub with the rough of his tongue. The combination had you writhing in pleasure, your previous orgasm had left your senses fried and now, everything was filled with intensity.
Your fingers tangled into his fiery hair as you urged him for more. Moans of his name fell from your mouth in a string of chants, only to be broken by the strangled gasps he would pull from you when his long digits curled to reach that sweet spot. Your walls began to clench around him as you struggled to hold of your climax, trying to prolong the embarrassingly inevitable feeling. But Fred needed you to cum.
Knees weakened as the tsunami of ecstasy washed over you, Fred lapping up your sweetness as he steadied your hips. Lidded eyes watched as the redhead milked every last second of your climax, taking advantage of the overly sensitive little bud. Watching his confidence grow as his ego swelled from the thought of making you fall apart.
The calloused hands of the beater never left your trembling body as he rose to your level once again, smirk framed by the glisten of your undoing and eyes communicating the desperation he held for you. The imprint of his painfully hard cock now exigent, commanding your attention.
"For such a bitter girl, you taste so sweet." You fight the urge to roll your eyes at his teasing words but you can't contain the blush that rises. "So sweetheart, still hate me? Or wanna admit the truth?"
You didn't hate him. You wished you did but you truly never had, it was just easier to pretend. The realisation of the truth had lit up in your mind, but he didn't need to know that.
Puffing out your chest a little as you absentmindedly traced haphazard designs on his bare chest. "I have to admit Weasley, that mouth is good for something other than terrible pick-up lines but, I still hate you."
"I was hoping you'd say that"
Colliding his lips with your plump ones, the taste of yourself swirled on your tongue as the two of you competed for leadership within the battle of teeth and tongues. Fred took control quickly, he had waited too long to kiss you and he knew he wanted to explore everything. The hidden desires, the tension had all been thrusted into the kiss as if it was the stage in which everything would be resolved.
Your hand maneuvered down to caress the redheads impressive length through the strained fabric, your touch sent shivers down his spine as he released a groan that you so willingly drank in. Tugging at the waistline desperately, you muttered a plea "take these off please" and Fred was in no position to deny such a request.
The tall man unclothed himself quicker than you'd expected, the slap of his intimidating cock against his pale toned stomach rumbled through the room and the sight of his sheer size had you practically salivating. Your widened eyes had acted as an ego boost for the cocky man, taking you in his arms once again as he felt incomplete without your touch.
Sliding his erection between your slickened thighs, coating him in your juices as the thick length grazed your overworked nub. Anticipation bubbled up inside of you as you felt his engorged tip breach your entrance, causing you to grind against the teasing touch, but you released annoyed whimpers when the trickster halts your movements.
"God, you're desperate but don't worry baby, I'll give you my cock. As soon as you admit you don't hate me."
Shaking your head adamantly as you refuse to meet his gaze, knowing that those chocolatey orbs would unravel you. A sharp grasp of your breast caused a moan to erupt from your chest as the patient man toyed with your nipple, waiting for your answer.
"Please! Come on, you want this too"
"Yeah but I don't fuck liars. Admit you like me."
An internal battle took over as your heart fought with your head. Entire being begging to admit your affection for the tall redhead and to consummate this admission but your logic said no. What if this was another one of his elaborate pranks? Just wanted to hear me say it so he could fuck me then laugh. Your eyes accidently locked with his and before you could spend another second on debating, you spoke.
"Fine! I like you, a lot. Now please Freddie, fuck me"
His heart raced faster than possible at your words and his mind clouded at the nickname, it was the only thing he wanted to hear from your lips. Pressing a kiss against your lips, filling your body with passion and intimacy as he impaled you on his aching length.
The stretch sent pains of pleasure through your body as he ever-slowly began to speed up. Every thrust hit perfectly, as if the two of you were made for each other. Your walls squeezed around him as he hit your sweet spot in rhythm, his hand hoisting your leg further onto his waist so to reach deeper.
The remnants of your previous orgasms haunted you as your felt the sensitivity shake your being, climax already building with the smallest of movements. The feeling of intimacy and relief heightened every sense in you; the smell of cinnamon engulfed your nose as you leant closer to him, the symphony of your moans mixing together was better than any hymn, his touches were electric on your blazing skin.
"Holy fuck! Freddie, I'm gonna cum"
"That's it pretty girl, cum over my cock"
Your body took the permission he granted and released. Embarrassment at your rapid climax quickly faded as the shattering feeling of pleasure washing over you took hold, buckling your knees as Fred vigorously rubbed your puffy nub. Screams of his name bounced of the walls of the showers as the height of it ripped through you.
The beaters pace continued at a punishing speed as he thrust into your overworked hole with power fuelled by years of wanting. Not allowing your orgasm to wash away as you feel the cord begin to tighten, almost as if you had faced no release just moments before. Sobs of pained pleasure fell from you as Fred chased his orgasm and made it his mission to give you one more, to feel your cum around him again.
"I know you've got one more in there for me. Just hold it"
"It's too much! Please Freddie, let me cum"
Any semblance of self-control the Gryffindor had was gone. Thrusts doubled in speed as his assault on your aching clit increased, causing you to release moans and whimpers that only spurred him. Feeling his own knot begin to rattle, trying to break free and take over. Freddie leant into the crook of your neck and began to detail little marks of the affection they shared before a commanding whisper "Cum for me"
The two lovers melted into one another as their orgasms tore through. Fred's erratic ruts had stilled in your tight walls as you milked him for all he had. Chants of your name muffled into your neck as the moans of his name reverberated off the walls. Your convulsing figure shook at the final release, the overstimulation had left your bones feeling as if they had been jellified but somehow, you felt protected in his freckled arms.
The tall man's cock softly slipped out of you as the Weasley stood straight to truly look at you. Flushed cheeks, neck decorated, shaking legs and it was all his doing. He managed to get the girl after all these years of acting and hiding, it had worked out and there was no more dancing around with harsh insults and petty competitions.
Basking in the glow for just a few more moments, you began to laugh. Hand on chest, head thrown back laugher and it concerned Fred, sending worries to flourish in his mind, "What's so funny missy?"
"Only an hour ago we were hurling insults at each other and now look at us." Locking eyes with his as you noticed a loving glint sneak through the lush colour of his orbs. A beaming smile grace your face as you gazed upon the man.
Throwing a loose arm around your waist as his permanent grin returned, "Well Quidditch is different. Even now, don't expect me to go easy on you, I'm a romantic that way"
"Romantic, huh? Well let's see if you are as good at romance as you are at fucking my brains out."
"So, still hate me?"
"Depends on how well our date goes, Lover Boy"
Unable to contain the glowing smile any longer, Fred leaned in to embrace your plump lips in his once more. Lust had dissolved and now, all that was communicated was tender love.
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roswellnmsource · 3 years
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cwroswellnm 🌟BTS!🌟 Behind every dope shot is a bucket of frozen blood, sweat, and tears! This final showdown in the rain season one was shot mid December when temperatures were getting down in the teens at night. To prevent hypothermia, special effects warmed the water as much as possible before it poured down on us from a giant crane above. Costumes hooked us up with wetsuits which we lined in heating pads. Try getting skinny jeans on over a wetsuit lined with heating pads. Oof. Once the shot was over, the medics whisked us away to a trailer that was kept at 90 degrees or so, trying to keep our body temps up. My wool jacket was soaked and smelled like a wet goat. So hot. Once in season 2 they provided a hot tub for me to jump into after a rain scene. I think they decided it was a bad idea after I refused to get out and eventually turned into a frog and leapt off into the desert.
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