WOODSMOKE & LEATHER

pairing: albert wesker x transmasc!reader warnings: 18+ only (mdni), smut, gender dysphoria, slight violence, bathroom sex, p in v (unprotected), creampie, semi-public sex, house parties, alcohol, marijuana, wesker is his own tw, implied slight chris x reader also word count: 5.3k (oh boy) notes: requested by @angelrawrcyan: "S.T.A.R.S Wesker won't leave my mind lately, can I request for some Wesker x transmasc reader?" as always, rbs appreciated <3

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summary: your roommate chris throws a house party, at which many of his coworkers in S.T.A.R.S. are in attendance. including his boss, captain wesker.

The bass thrummed deeply, permeating your body so entirely that you could feel it in your chest, rattling your bones and piercing through your ear drums. It didn't matter how many times you sneakily turned the volume dial down on the stereo, somehow it always ended up cranked up even louder.

You stumbled over discarded plastic cups as you wove your way through the party guests in the direction of your kitchen. The apartment was barely big enough for you and your roommate, let alone… however many people he had ended up inviting to his house party. You lost count when more and more people streamed in as the night progressed.

The door to the kitchen was blocked off by a couple you'd never seen before with their tongues firmly exploring each other's throats. Your buzz was fading fast. You needed another drink if you were to continue dealing with the music and the yelling and all these fucking people.

You rolled your eyes. Anxiety wasn't going to permit you to ask the couple to move - not that they would even if you asked - so you had to take the road less travelled. Hitching your weight up onto the breakfast bar, you vaulted over it with care not to knock over the assembled alcohol bottles on the counter. You landed, feet planted on the kitchen tile, impressed with yourself but not resting on your laurels. Especially as you weren't alone in the kitchen.

Your roommate stood with his back to you, refilling a mixing bowl with corn chips. At least in here the music wasn't so loud that you had to yell to be heard.

"Hey, Chris," you nodded to him, placing your empty cup on the counter. "What was the pitch you gave me for this party? How many people did you say? Ten max, right?"

"C'mon, dude. People invite people who invite more people. I can't control that." Chris held his palms up as if to absolve himself of any guilt in the matter.

You sighed and pressed your back against the kitchen sink, staring out across the living room from your side of the bar. Chris, cradling the bowl of chips like a newborn baby, joined you in your observations. Your party-girl neighbours giggled together, dancing drunkenly to the music. Some of your old college friends huddled in intense conversation, no doubt about their latest D&D campaign. The door to the hallway was cracked, where you could just hear the delightful sounds of someone throwing up over the pounding music. Your ex boyfriend, easily the person you were least excited to see, was getting far too into a football game on your CRT television. You still don't know why Chris invited him. Something about 'closure'.

"Yeah, well what about your work buddies?"

You leaned your elbows on the bar and gestured with a tilt of your chin in the direction of the dining table, where a group was gathered separate from the rest. You remembered some of their names - Jill, Brad, Forest, Joseph-something - on the rare occasions you'd run into them before. Brad seemed to have brought a dartboard of some sort that Chris had helped him mount on the wall. They were taking turns in a darts competition that was ramping up in intensity. Chris had a good relationship with his co-workers, and you'd be lying if it said it didn't make you a little jealous sometimes. You were more of a solitary person. Chris was one of the few people you could count among your close friends, so you couldn't help the little part of your brain that was bitter that he was so popular.

"What about 'em?"

"... Like, they're cops. At a house party."

"I'm also a cop at a house party."

"Yeah, your own."

Chris put the bowl of chips down and grabbed your shoulders, dropping his voice slightly. "Listen, as long as you hid the weed where we agreed, there won't be an issue."

Laughing, you shake your head. The elite tactical service, S.T.A.R.S., arresting one of their own & his dropout roommate for smoking the devil's lettuce in their downtime was hard to believe.

"A little below you guys's paygrade."

"Exactly. So relax. It's fine."

You turned your head from him to scan the living room once more.

"And what about that guy?"

Chris followed your gaze to the blonde man, quietly observing the room from a corner and sipping from a glass tumbler of whisky - a stark contrast from the stereotypical red solo cups scattered amid the other party guests. At least, you guessed he was looking around - it was hard to tell by the dark sunglasses obscuring his eyes. A strange sight in any indoor setting, but especially when it was approaching midnight.

"Oh, that's-"

A realisation struck you as you unintentionally cut Chris off. "Oh shit, that's your boss! The sunglasses guy, right?"

You lowered your voice, trying not to make it obvious that you were looking at him. But once your gaze had locked onto the man, it was hard to turn your eyes away. He had a strange magnetism to him. It felt like all the chaos, the pounding music, the laughing, the shouting, the throngs of people crammed into your shitty two-bedroom Raccoon City apartment - all of it faded into static, unimportant background noise.

You just managed to parse out Chris's voice through your trance.

"Yeah, that's Wesker. Captain Wesker. I was talking about the party in the break room at work the other day and he came in - felt rude to not invite him. Didn't honestly expect for him to show up."

Another guest, one of your pretty neighbours, crossed the room and started to engage him in conversation. Wesker tilted his head to listen to her, engaging instantly with her words. A smile rendered his handsome features even more striking. While the sunglasses looked stupid and out of place at first, you found it only added to his allure. He had such charisma about him, an unmistakable charm. The girl's fingers brushed along his forearm, bare and strong where he'd rolled up the sleeves of his blue silk shirt. Your jaw set and you glanced back at Chris, who you just registered was still talking.

"We don't really know what the deal is with the sunglasses. Barry thinks it could be a visual impairment thing but, it's not like we can ask, y'know?"

"Maybe he just thinks they look cool," you offered, trying to disguise the creeping disappointment you felt as Wesker tucked a strand of your neighbour's hair behind her ear.

You smoothed your hand over your t-shirt, a crisp white polo shirt you thought was dressed-up enough for the party. It wasn't your usual hoodie that you practically lived in, which was something. You felt your binder beneath, digging into the skin of your armpits. The compression on your ribs was starting to get hard to ignore. Probably had worn it far too long today. It was easy to lose track.

Chris noticed your motion and raised his eyebrows. Sometimes, he knows you too well - frustratingly so.

"Listen," he said softly, "If you wanna like, go to your room and call it a night. Just go, like, I won't be offended. How long have you been wearing it today?"

"Too fucking long," you admitted, "but no, I'll stick around a bit longer. Thanks, though."

And so, you did. Minutes stumbled into hours as you mingled with guests at Chris's request, while also getting to know some of his coworkers. You avoided even glancing at your ex as much as possible. Instead, you focused on Captain Wesker. He seemed to gravitate between social groups with flowing ease; able to find common ground with just about everyone. His presence was all-encompassing and, despite not being loud or ostentatious in any way, he seemed to be the soul of the party. Everybody wanted to talk to him, to flirt with him. And he talked to all of them, engaged them, with a comfort and fluidity you could only dream of having in social situations. It was fascinating to watch. There was, of course, the fact that he was incredibly handsome too; and every time he cracked a smile you wished it was you he was smiling at.

But, like always, you faded into the background. You made an effort to stay as far away from the source of the pulsing music, oppressive in its cacophony. Pressing your back to the wall as you drained the dregs of your drink, you felt the liquid burn on its way down your throat. Your bound chest protested once more. Perhaps it was time to call it a night-

"Good evening."

You nearly dropped your cup. Wesker seemed to appear out of nowhere, his graceful stride imperceptible until he was right next to you. This close, you picked up the scent of his cologne: a woody, somewhat smoky scent with undertones of vanilla and leather. Weirdly, his voice seemed to match his scent. Smooth, well-spoken with a delectable curl of an accent. You looked up at him, seeing the vague outline of his eyes from behind the shades.

"Oh, hi. Fuck, you kinda startled me."

The blurred edges of your vision crept closer in, and you blinked to maintain focus on his face. Perhaps you had over-indulged on the alcohol.

"Apologies. I'll be sure to announce my approach further in advance next time." He smiled.

"Captain Wesker, right?"

You already knew the answer, of course.

Wesker nodded, taking another sip of his whiskey. Where did he even get that glass from? "And you're Redfield's boyfriend."

He said your name then, drawing it out like a taste he wanted to savour.

"Boyfriend?" You couldn't suppress the laugh that forced its way past your lips,

"No, no. It's not like that. We're not, like, romantic partners. Partners in rental agreement, maybe."

"Ah. I'm sorry, I assumed…" Wesker waved a hand in the air to indicate the rest of the sentence, one that didn't need to be said.

"No, it's fine. Chris is a friend. One of the best. But that's it."

You would be lying if you said you hadn't considered it. But boundaries had been laid many years ago, a line that you respected Chris too much to even attempt to cross.

"My taste in men is more like. Well, him," you added. "Up until recently."

You sighed as you reluctantly gestured to where your ex was standing on the couch cushions, making some sort of grandiose speech to onlookers that you mercifully couldn't hear over the music. He had a captive audience of drunk party guests with which to regale with his TEDTalk-adjacent ramblings. Wesker observed, lifting his glass to his lips with a sardonic quirk of an eyebrow - he clearly had thoughts but chose not to vocalise them.

"Don't judge," you grumbled.

"Not even a little bit?"

You shot Wesker with a withering look. He hid his smile around the rim of his whiskey tumbler, peering at you from behind the dark veil of his shades.

A commotion behind you caused you to turn your head as, from the bathroom along the hall, a group of hollering men you’re sure neither you or Chris had met before stumbled out. With them billowed the unmistakable earthy, herbal aroma of marijuana. One of them held a glass of red wine, far overfilled, which sloshed dangerously.

You should have expected what happened next. As the men swayed past you and Wesker, the wine tipped over the rim of the glass as they nudged into you. A cascade of sticky, red liquid tumbled, seemingly in slow motion, all over your face, neck, chest and irreparably staining the one white shirt you owned. You yelped in horror, desperately trying in vain to wipe yourself clean and cover your chest, where the dampness was soaking through the shirt fabric and revealing your binder underneath.

“Hey, what the fuck?!” You snapped, tears pricking at your eyes as your forearms formed an X-motion over your chest. Trying to put out a tough-guy persona proved difficult when you were on the verge of crying.

The man scoffed, set to simply walk away. He leaned back to face you, not even turning his head fully. “Hey, chill the fuck out, yeah?”

His hand shot out to shove you away from him, a hostile gesture meant to provoke a confrontation. Which it would have done, were it not for Wesker’s hand clamping around his wrist with a swiftness and finality that neither you nor your aggressor were expecting. Your eyes flicked over the subtle flex of his forearm muscle, the exposed skin sporting a defined line along his dorsal where he applied his strength to keep your attacker at bay.

With a tilt of his head, Wesker regarded the man calmly, undeterred by the miasma of cannabis and alcohol that he carried with him. Still, he held the man’s wrist tight, holding his arm in a suspended position, knuckles going white.

“I’d think very carefully about your next move, my friend,” Wesker uttered, a hint of danger lurking in the space between syllables.

You were suspended in disbelief for a long moment, before you found your senses again. Your legs moved of their own accord, propelling you to the bathroom and to perceived safety. Slamming the door behind you, you pressed your back to it as your fingers found the lock and turned it decisively. The weed smell was cloying in here. Combined with the peppery and overpowering wine you reeked of, you wanted nothing more than to sponge yourself clean. You stepped to the sink. Weakly, you placed your palms on the edge of the basin and stared at yourself in the mirror. The pinkish hue of the spilled vino dripped down your neck and collarbone, soaking your shirt to where the hem and edges of your binder defined themselves.

“Fuck… fucking goddamn it…” You whispered, chest shaking, threatening to release a sob. There, you stood, trying to regulate your breathing.

A knock on the door. Your breath hitched in your throat.

“It’s me.”

Woodsmoke and leather in a voice.

You unlocked the door. Wesker rested a shoulder on the doorframe. His hands pushed back some stray strands of blonde hair back into their styled position.

“Can I come in?”

You should probably say no.

“Yes.”

He breezed in, closing the door behind him and locking it as you had. He crossed his arms over his chest with a sigh. “Chris is kicking that man and his troglodyte friends out as we speak. Looks like that old flame of yours arrived with them.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” you nodded, your voice quiet.

You grabbed the front of your shirt self-consciously, pulling it away from your body so as to unstick it from your skin. Shoulders slumped, physically resembling as deflated as you felt, you perched on the edge of the bath. Wesker watched, unmoving for a moment, before stepping over to the sink. Your face cast to the floor, you managed to raise your eyes to watch as the S.T.A.R.S captain sought out a face cloth, wetting it under the tap with a streak of soap and wringing it out methodically.

“Come now, head up. That’s it.”

The pungent herbal aroma hanging stagnant in the air faded as he approached. Usquebaugh scented, underlying cedarwood musk. Wesker crouched before you and gently tilted your chin upwards with a brush of his thumb. The warm dampness of the cloth found your face as Wesker gently wiped at the wine with a methodical grace. His soft, slender fingers cradled the back of your head as the cloth moved to your neck.

Your breath came in halting, light gasps, unable to deny what stirred within you at his touch, the tender press of textile, zephyr-like, to your flesh. A light breeze tickled the nape of your neck from the ajar frosted glass of the window behind. In front, Wesker’s warm breath, hot on your jaw as he moved closer.

Wesker’s fingers ghosted under the collar of your sodden shirt as he started to clean the viscous liquid more thoroughly - it had settled where your neck met your clavicle. You felt his fingertips meet the edge of the shoulder strap of your binder. You froze, as did he, for a brief, appraising moment. Underneath his sunglasses, you saw his eyes meet yours. The veil that separated the fullness of his gaze from yours was maddening - you wished you could tell what he was thinking.

“It’s not often I meet a man so multi-faceted.”

Wesker’s words were a whisper carried on whisky breath. Your heart pounded in your ears, defensive walls melted like ice to his warm smile. You closed the distance between you in the gap between heartbeats. You pressed your mouth to his and drank him in with each breath. The fingers on the back of your head began to card meticulously through your hair, light tugs and smooth caresses. You exhaled a scarcely suppressed moan into his mouth which he pushed through with his tongue.

All rational thought was discarded, leaving room only for unrestrained desire. Wesker tugged your sodden, stained shirt off over your head and threw it behind you, into the ceramic tub on which you sat. Clumsy fingers found the buttons of his shirt as you desperately revealed his surprisingly toned chest, pressing your palms to it and feeling the musculature beneath. Mercifully, Wesker did not even try to remove your binder, sensing your discomfort and pacing around it with respect. Instead, his hands sought your belt, unbuckling it with fervour. With your waistband loosened and his shirt hanging unbuttoned off his lithe form, he scooped you up, lips exploring every inch of exposed skin, and placed you with little effort on the sink. Once there, you assisted him with shimmying off your jeans. The cold porcelain of the sink's rim pierced your exposed thighs, making you gasp.

"Wesker, are you sure-?" You sighed, tilting your head back as his lips pressed once more to your jaw. Your mind cast back to the many guests you saw him engaging in conversation with, those that verged on flirtation.

"Nothing feels more certain," Wesker responded with a lilt of need, his lips dancing along your neck. "You taste of wine, my dear."

"Wonder why that is."

You weren't expecting this to amuse him. And yet, the breaths of his laugh slid over your skin as he lightly nipped at your flesh. Grazing teeth and languid licks. You pushed his shirt off over his broad shoulders, coursing your fingers down the sides of his supple torso. Wesker's lips found yours once more. He stroked your swollen clit through the damp fabric of your boxers. Your hand reached to his dress pants, fondling the stiffening outline beneath his zipper. While you cupped his clothed length and slowly caressed it with one hand, the other hand unclipped the catch of his pants and tugged them down as far as you could reach.

Wesker pushed his sunglasses back up his nose. They had slid down enough that you could just catch his silvery-blue eyes beneath. "I must admit, I was rather pleased to hear that you're not with Redfield."

You raised your eyebrows in thinly-veiled disbelief before quickly recovering.

"Jealousy is not becoming of you, Captain," you breathed, the friction of his fingers pulsing against your clothed clit maddening in their slowness.

"Hm. Nor you." He responded curtly, thumb increasing in pressure on your hardened bud. You bit back a moan and tilted your head, puzzled.

"Someone didn't like me talking to your party guests as I did,” Wesker elaborated with a quirk of an eyebrow. Leaning in, he tilted his head and nibbled on your jaw once more. Less gently this time. A hint of warning. "I find you attractive, your envious streak less so."

"I mean- mmf," you gritted your teeth, slowly feeling yourself succumbing to him. His natural dominance was starting to claw its way to the surface, and you were powerless under its sway. "Wesker…"

"Mm?"

"You got a first name?"

"Not one you need to concern yourself with now."

Wesker responded so abruptly you felt an irrevocable instinct; like you needed to apologise. But before you could linger on this impulse, the captain had freed his cock from his underwear. The tip already glistened deliciously with precum as it sprung to attention. For a moment, not a single thought crossed your mind as your hand reached out and pumped along his length, warmth pooling in your cunt. It throbbed in its emptiness, begging to be full of him.

"Impatient little coquet, aren't we?" Wesker purred, his breath coming in ragged bursts as you stroked along his length. And yet, he still didn't let up on giving your emboldened clit the attention it craved.

"W-We can't be in here long. People will wonder-"

"Let them wonder, my dear."

Wesker punctuated his words with a sharp tug, and you aided by lifting your hips off the sink long enough for him to yank your underwear off. Immediately, you shivered at the exposure, the heat of the slick coating your entrance biting against the cool surface of the basin.

"My, my," Wesker exhaled. He crouched slightly as he took in the sight of your cunt, swollen, pulsing desperately. He pumped his cock slowly as it twitched in his hand. "Your body is begging for me. Not a lot of begging from this pretty mouth of yours, though."

His fingers trailed upwards, over your abdomen and switching course to your arms so as to not touch your chest. Despite how commanding he was, Wesker seemed intent on avoiding the parts of you which made you uncomfortable - a level of respect certain others had not been so forthcoming with. The dominance he exuded was hot, but his attentiveness to your needs was somehow hotter.

Not one to let a hint lie untaken, you opened your mouth to beg: "Please, Wesker, I ne-"

By now, his hand had reached your mouth. You were cut off as he slid two digits between your parted lips. You let out a squeak of surprise but, not wanting to delay further, you closed your lips around his fingers and sucked fervently on them. Your eyes fluttered closed as he pumped them further into your mouth, grazing your tongue. A heady mix of alcohol and your own arousal sang across your tastebuds. Through the sunglasses, you could just make out his eyes fixated on you lapped appreciatively at his fingers. This image no doubt would keep him company on many lonely nights to come.

He removed his fingers from your mouth with a loud popping sound. Thankfully, the pounding of Chris's curated music mix coursing through the stereo speakers in the living room would conceal any such noises from outside ears.

"Now. What were you saying, sweetness?" His already deep voice was huskier now, laced with lust as his wettened fingers found your clit again, before sliding beyond and burying his ring and middle finger into your cunt in a beckoning motion.

The much-awaited intrusion forced a lewd whine from your throat. But it wasn't enough. God, it wasn't enough.

“Please, Wesker," you took your time drawing out the sound of his name, "I need you inside me. Need to feel your cock, need it in me, need you to fuck me, please…"

"Such a needy boy," Wesker drawled. He was trying to keep up the dominance game, power in his hands only. But his words were thick with a heated desire. Already, more strands of his blonde hair had come unstyled and were hanging loosely over his forehead. The slow erosion of his put-together appearance only served to dampen your entrance more in anticipation of him. He removed his fingers from your cunt, only to shift his weight forward to line up his dick to your weeping hole.

A knock on the door.

Of all times, why now?

You and Wesker glanced to the lock in tandem, verifying it was indeed still latched.

Chris's voice on the other side of the door, calling your name. Chris, who was wondering where you are. Chris, whose boss you were about to fuck. If he only knew.

"Hey, you in here? I saw what happened, I- I'm sorry I couldn't do anything."

The part of you about to snap at him for his timing softened. An amused smile lifted the corners of Wesker's lips as he glanced back to you.

"Yeah- yeah, just getting cleaned up. It's okay. Really, it's fine."

You heard a sigh from beyond the door. "Alright. Hey, listen, have you seen Captain Wesker anywhere?"

His cue. The smile that was developing on Wesker's handsome countenance had morphed into a devious smirk. A barely suppressed chuckle followed as, the second Chris said his name, he sank his cock into you. His hands latched onto your ass and pulled your pelvis down so he was buried into you in one long, drawn-out thrust, leaving no room for you to adjust to his size.

Your mouth opened in a silent gasp which took everything in your power to suppress. Woodsmoke and leather, his presence unending, was swallowed inside of your eager body. And somehow, you had to respond. Wesker raised his eyebrows expectantly at you as he slowly pulled out, only to bury himself inside you once more, quicker this time.

Wesker's smirk was torturous. His cock twitched appreciatively inside of you, caressing your walls with each pulse of his hips and not letting up. This situation clearly both amused and aroused him to no end.

Chris said your name again, more of a question this time.

"Say something, darling," Wesker leaned forward and muttered into your ear, words lilting like a taunting melody. "Chris will get suspicious."

You wrestled with every part of yourself that wanted to crumble into the cacophony of moans you could feel stirring in your chest. Instead, you fought for control over your voice, and spoke, in the most even tone you could muster.

"N-no, no, sorry. No idea where he is. Maybe… uh… he went home?"

Wesker increased his pace, setting a rhythm not unlike a rushing heartbeat. Your body jolted from the force, unwittingly knocking over your hand soap dispenser and a few other bottles of assorted bathroom products. The tip of Wesker's cock kissed your cervix deliciously, and a moan escaped your lips before you could push it back down. Wesker's eyes widened at the unrepressed sound, his smile growing a tinge more ardent. Scrambling, you attempted to cover it up, a fake coughing fit being your choice of pantomime.

Chris's voice was tinged with concern at the sound. First the clattering, then your ‘coughing’. "A-Are you okay?"

"Yeah, s-sorry. You know me, clumsy as always," you stammered, speaking perhaps a little too fast.

"Should I come inside?" Chris asked, voice slightly louder.

A rattling of the door handle. Your heart jolted. Even though it was locked, you didn't trust the security of the room. And still, Wesker fucked you senseless, caring little for the implications were you to get caught, caring even less for how you struggled through your words.

"No!" You nearly shouted back. "No, no, I'm… not decent."

With Wesker's alcohol-scented breath hot and moist on your ear, he whispered: "You most certainly are not. Filthy."

Desperately, you willed Chris to leave, feeling your arousal reach its peak. Knowing it was only a matter of time before you went crashing over the edge. Perhaps there was something about the risk that you enjoyed, too.

Your roommate’s voice came through once more from beyond the door. "Okay, I'll talk to you later, yeah?"

"Yeah!" You tried not to sound too enthusiastic as you heard his footsteps retreating.

Eyes wild, incredulous, you turned back to Wesker. "What the fu-"

Wesker crashed his lips against yours, swallowing your indignation. Slick with saliva, he pulled his mouth away from yours. You attempted to gaze into his eyes, to peel away the layers. The dark veil remained.

You didn’t know why you asked when you did. Perhaps a favour to Chris - if anything, your salacious tryst with his boss could yield an answer to a question. Perhaps it would soften the blow, were he ever to find out about this.

“Why is it you always wear those sunglasses?”

Wesker, if he was shocked by your question, didn’t show it. His cock generated sliding friction along your walls as he plunged himself in and out of you.

“The eye is the window of the soul, the mouth the door. The intellect, the will, are seen in the eye; the emotions, sensibilities, and affections, in the mouth.”

To effortlessly quote a philosopher while in the throes of carnal pleasure was a talent indeed.

“Who’s that from?” You asked through breathy moans.

Wesker grunted with effort, burying himself to the hilt in you and cradling your jaw with his fingers. “Unimportant. But it should answer your question.”

You didn’t know whether it was because your impending orgasm was rendering your synapses inert, but you were reasonably sure that you were more confused on the subject than before.

But that didn’t matter. Because Wesker had a question for you, too.

"Should I come inside?"

He echoed Chris's words, the meaning entirely different. Wesker's voice was throaty, losing its silky quality the closer he came to his climax.

"Yes. God, god yes."

That was all it took, for him and for you. Your entire body collided with your climax, a leg-shaking affair which forced your head back in ecstasy.

"Fuck, yes-"

Moments later, you felt your dripping pussy filled with his warm release. It coated your inner walls, mixing with your slick. Slowly, he pulled his cock free from your weeping hole.

Wesker smoothed the rogue blonde hairs hanging over his face back into position. Teeth bit down on his lower lip as he beheld his cum slide slowly out of you, dripping onto the porcelain surface of the sink. Suddenly, you felt embarrassed, moving to close your knees together. His hand moved swiftly, as swiftly as it did when he prevented the man from shoving you. It blocked your knees from meeting, and he instead pushed them open again insistently.

"Now, don't deprive me of such a sweet sight."

Instead, he deprived you of a sweet sight as he pulled his underwear and pants back over his lower half, his cock disappearing beneath fabric. He set to work buttoning up his shirt once more, starting to rebuild his well curated outer persona. Meanwhile, you had never felt more fucked out in your life. You pressed the back of your head to the mirror, legs still straddling the sink. Your cunt twitched with ongoing aftershocks, feeling Wesker's cum gradually leak out of you.

Wesker regarded you up and down, securing the final button on his shirt but leaving some loose. Giving a slight teaser as to what lay beneath, but nowhere near the entirety of him that you had been treated to.

"You're even filthier than you were when you came in here, dear," he observed without a hint of irony. Fully dressed now, he stepped forward and graced your lips with a light kiss, nowhere near enough to satiate you and more than enough to leave you wanting more.

"Wesker-"

Wesker strode over to the door, tilting his head back to watch as you slid slowly on shaky legs off the sink. “It’s been seven minutes,” he said. “People will wonder.”

Woodsmoke, leather. Vanilla, wine. No strong smell could override the undercurrent of risk that struck like a dagger in your heart as his eyes found yours. He slid his sunglasses deliberately down his nose. And, finally, you deciphered the look in his eyes that had been hidden from you all this time.

Wesker looked at you like you were prey.

And you loved it.

“Open your eyes.”

So I got bored with writing whump. Oh no, guess I’ll write some smut instead… what a shame. Based off a Kinktober prompt list I can’t find a source for, but the prompt here is Mirror Sex, featuring V x Reader. Enjoy!

Word count - 820

_____

Sweat mixed with fresh bathwater on your fragrant skin. Steam still leaked through the gap over the geometric shower curtain, the noisy fan helping to clear away the moisture. Your damp towel lay discarded on the tiled floor, kicked away in the grip of V’s hunger.

“You’re so beautiful like this.”

Keep reading

181 notes View Post

darkcat5923

4 years ago

after the war ends, Obi-Wan desperately wants to quit the Council, but Mace keeps rejecting his resignations

so Obi-Wan decides to take matters into his own hands: if he can’t resign formally, he’s going to get himself kicked off

he starts by showing up to Council meetings intoxicated, and wearing increasingly outrageous (and frequently revealing) clothing

when his own efforts fail to get any reaction out of Mace, he recruits outside assistance

he sends Anakin wearing a fake beard and mustache to attend as him (which has the side benefit of convincing Anakin that he never, ever, wants anything to do with the Council)

Cody attends wearing Obi-Wan’s clothes and lightsaber, but making no other attempt to disguise himself

Quinlan breaks in during a meeting, makes out with Obi-Wan for two minutes straight, then smashes through a window to make his daring escape

Ahsoka does her best Hondo impression and shows up to kidnap Obi-Wan in the middle of a session, with Rex and the Bad Batch (in their normal, full armor) as her dastardly pirate crew

and while certain members of the Council are outraged, Obi-Wan still can’t even get Mace to consider his resignation

of course, Mace isn’t going to tell Obi-Wan that his efforts have backfired: this is the most entertainment Mace has had in YEARS, he’s wasn’t letting Obi-Wan quit before he started this, and now at least half the reason is that he wants to see what Obi-Wan’ll try next

17K notes View Post

darkcat5923

1 year ago

repast 😂

445 notes View Post

darkcat5923

3 years ago

May I recommend this Star Wars fanfic?

Darth Vader Goes to Therapy by @ladyvader23

"After a mission gone very wrong, Vader is forced into court mandated therapy to calm the concerned citizens of the galaxy. His assigned therapist? The only one who would take him: brand new therapist Luke Lars."

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26241868/chapters/63873559

Great, cracky fic about the importance of not stopping one's Sithy medications without advice from the medical droid, boundaries, recognizing grooming, trauma, and surviving said trauma.

Therapist Luke Lars "I prefer another name" is determined to help everyone who seems to need therapy, and is willing to accept help. (Imperials and members of the Alliance, alike. )

Despite the cracky start, there are some parts of this fic that will make you cry. (Plus, Darth Vader, high, gleeful, on a hoverboard, in a tie dye cape is not to be missed.)

Adding- it also has Palpatine death! And exactly how Palpatine is killed is awesome. Hint- neither Vader nor Luke kills Palpatine.

Definitely go read this fic when you get a chance.

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darkcat5923

1 year ago

→ Home.

gif credit.

pairing: soldier boy/ben x wife!reader.

rating: fluff, implied smut.

warning: bens's pov, very soft ben, implied pregnant sex, praising, horny reader, antiquated mentality....

word count: 2.4k

summary: ben's discovering new life affairs while expecting his first baby.

tagging: @zepskies

→ masterlist | ao3

Soldier Boy guzzled down his third raw drink before he decided to call it a day and go home. He took off his supe gear and changed into more casual clothes in the dressing room in his quarters at Vought's tower after he took a quick shower. He shook his head with a sneer when he tugged the shirt above his head, remembering her telling him —bossing him— that he wasn't to come home stinking with blood and cigars and whiskey and Vought. Soldier Boy didn't take shit from anyone, but he found himself helpless against her wishes—orders. He was grinning though, amusedly so. Sometimes he wondered where his obedient and good wife went. He liked that version of her, nonetheless.

Though he liked to think that his baby was igniting her wild spirit, his pretty wife seemed to have gotten quite sensitive to strong scents, and her stomach grew weak ever since he got her pregnant with their first child four months ago. It was chiselled in his mind; the memory of her hoping onto his chest with happy shrieks when he returned from work affirming the news.

He had been sensing the baby's presence for a week thanks to his superhuman senses before that, and he'd told her that night to go check on it with a doctor. They were eagerly trying to have a baby so it was of no surprise, but it still pulled a huge smile on his lips and made pride swell in his chest. He was going to be a father in nine months. The thing he wanted to be the most.

But as it turned out, pregnancy wasn't as magical as his mind fantasised to be. It wasn't all fuzzy and beautiful like he imagined. He cursed the damn commercials for that. Fucking marketing.

The first couple of months were rough. Morning sickness, vomiting, ungodly cravings at ungodly hours, horrendous mood swings, and worst of all; minimum intimacy. She'd become fragile unlike her nature. And she got overly concerned that he might hurt the baby whenever he suggested penetrative sex. Orals were, certainly, out of the equation. It was both frustrating and maddening to say the least. He was a fucking man and had needs. The best he could get was quick and not so enthusiastic handies from time to time when she could provide. Long story short, he was growing blue balls from the ordeal. Fuck, he used to make fun of men who couldn't get laid properly. The irony had such an impact on his ego; his pride of being a fucking man.

It was not easy for someone like him to stay faithful to his partner. He rarely recognised commitment before he met her, and being surrounded by blatant temptations all the time didn't make things any better. He could have anyone at any time, ladies would eagerly kneel and suck him off without a question if he wanted them to. But he'd be damned if he wasn't in charge of his own self. He'd be damned if he dared to break her heart. He'd be damned if he ruined his family, a family he never thought he'd ever have, for such vagaries.

In time, however, pregnancy did prove itself to be the most beautiful of all affairs. Surprisingly so. Whenever he spooned her up hugging her from behind, he found odd tranquillity of hearing hers and the babe's rhythmical heartbeats, or when he caressed her bumping tummy, feeling his child's life forming inside of her body, a creature they both made, lack of sex seemed to be durable and trivial at some point. Something he himself wouldn't believe before. But here he was. His disgust and appal from what pregnancy entailed gradually dissipated and were replaced with zeal and thrill. And most certainly, he enjoyed the changes of her body the most. Ben just loved the way her boobs were swelling up with milk, and the way her stomach was flourishing with his child. Boob massage was something he greatly took pleasure in. Kneading her sore breasts while hearing her moans of relief. He'd come to learn that intimacy could be found in many other things than sex.

Ben noticed he'd come to hating every moment he spent away from them. His temper got much worse, his teammates observed. And he became more aggressive than he already was when fighting crime. The happiest moment of his day was when he dropped the shield and took the helmet off to head home, where his beautiful wife would be eagerly waiting to have dinner with him even though most of the nights he'd come home and find her dozing off on the couch where she'd been waiting for him. He'd carry her to their bedroom and have dinner by himself — he skipped that very often — then slip right behind her on the bed holding her close to his body. The concept of coming back home to someone was so much alluring to him. He felt his life was complete. Real.

Ben arrived at their penthouse, assuming he'd find her soundly sleeping while she stayed awaiting him. He didn't announce his return loudly as he used to do before the pregnancy. He didn't want to wake her up. But much to his surprise — and delight, Ben found the place dimly lit with scented candles, sensuous silence prevailing within the air.

Ben's eyes glimmered, and an instant wolfish grin slipped into his lips when his eyes landed on his wife's figure as she clambered down the stairs. A thin, short gown with a raunchy red colour hugged her frame, its fabric was so thin that he could see her skin glowing through the red. Her breasts were full, putting her cleavage on more display. Whereas the bump of her belly was deliciously visible. Her hair was neatly styled and spruced up and her pretty face was elegantly painted with make-up.

“Welcome home, Ben,” She warbled with a smile, eyes filled with sultry desire as she strolled down to him. He was dazzled by her appearance, he was practically eating her with his eyes. Fuck, pregnancy did make her much prettier. “Hope you didn't have dinner yet 'cause I made you something special tonight.”

Her palm grazed his stubbled cheek. Ben leaned into her touch, pressing a gentle kiss to her palm, a grin gracing his mouth. “'Course I didn't. Why the fuck would I eat outside when I have a capable wife like you at home?”

She giggled gleefully at his statement as he pulled her flush against his body. He eyed her with a hazed gaze. Her mouth was luring him in, deliciously so. He liked that lipstick shade on her lips so much. He couldn't but to give in to the utter temptation. Ben tilted his head down and captured them in a burning kiss. An instant moan escaped her throat as his mouth passionately pressed to hers. Her arms encircled his neck, hands combing through his brown hair. He synced their heads for a better angle, and deepened the kiss, tongue slipping into her warm mouth. His hands brushed her sides then her ass.

He broke the kiss momentarily and she gasped vehemently. He could hear the rapid pace of her heart and the gushing blood through her vein, pooling down in her groin. He crushed her lips again, hands travelling up to remove the dress but she squealed and pulled back.

“Benjamin, dinner's gonna get cold!” She laughed again when he buried his face in her neck, kissing her skin softly.

“Is that really what you're fucking concerned about now?” He grumbles in a teasing tone.

She giggled, “Should I be concerned about something else—woah!” Ben grabbed her hips and lifted her effortlessly, heading to the living room with her pretty legs around his hips. His lips plundering hers again all the way until they reached the couch where he sat with her straddling his lap. The kiss went wild once they settled comfortably on the couch. His big hands stroked her thighs ardently. They trailed up to her ass giving it a firm squeeze and she moaned in his mouth, plucking the rim of her satin panties. He smirked into the kiss, fingers tracing down to her core. His grin widened when he met her bare cunt.

“Oh, baby,” He rasps when she rolls her hips slowly, pressing her cunt on his clothed cock, “Aren't you a pretty fucking tease?” He tugged at the lip of the crotchless panties, a mischievous grin playing on his mouth.

She guffawed with a coquettish tilt of her head, and his cock twitched in an immediate response. However, the innocent look on her face opposed the tortuous pace of her hips. She was fucking tantalising him with those hips. And he fucking liked it despite the screaming urge growing in his chest to flip her over and fuck her raw. Oh, she did like it rough, the little slut. She liked to be beneath him and beg him to go harder and faster, to yank her hair and make her choke on his dick. She loved how he manhandled her with his superhuman strength despite being only a human, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't take great pleasure in it too. Ben's nothing if doesn't live to be in charge. He'd been shocked that a tiny woman like her could handle him as such. But he was quick to remember that she was with his fucking child. He couldn't go rough on her like he used to do even if they both craved it.

She didn't stop her torment as her delicate hands rested on his shoulders for support. He could smell the sweet scent of her arousal soaking his crotch and he growled, “Holy fuck, you gonna let me fuck that pretty pussy of yours, or you planning on making me cream my pants?”

Her lips twisted wickedly, “Depends,”

“On fucking what?” He grunted, brows furrowed, puzzled. He was way too hard and drunk by her scent to clearly think or read between her lines, “Baby, you're fucking killing me here.”

“Aw, am I to seal the greatest era of America's history?” She giggled again, “What an honour.”

Then it clicked. The fucking slut. She was tempting him to ravish her. Maybe he should, but again, he worried about her and the child. Because honestly, he wasn't so sure if he could restrain himself if he unbridled that side of his.

Then his mouth splitted in a huge grin, brushing his cheek to hers to grumble in her ear, “The only honour you're gonna get is milking my cock empty in that slutty pussy of yours.” He chuckled triumphantly when he sensed her shivering in delight. Leaning his head backward, he saw her chewing on her lower lip adorably with a cute pinkish red dusting across her face, whereas her eyes were searing with covetousness. Ben pecked her nose and lifted her up again, gently. She trilled a series of choppy laughters and playfully kicked her legs when he carried her to their bedroom.

Needless to say, she took whatever honour he bestowed upon her like a champ.

He was craving a whiff of a cigar. He used to smoke after a good fuck in bed, she'd even share him a couple of drags sometimes. But since it was off the table — temporarily — he focused on and enjoyed her fingers running on his chest.

Fuck, pregnant sex did feel amazing. He gotta admit. He did hear from here and there that a woman with child, at some point of her pregnancy, would be touched by sudden and high libidinousness. But fuck, didn't that catch him off guard. And fuck, if he didn't enjoy it down to the last minute detail. And dare he say, it was the best sex he ever had. It was perfect; she was perfect.

Never did he think that he'd find home, his real home in a simple elementary school teacher he met on one of his tours throughout the country. A beautiful and smart woman who always kept him on his toes and had him wrapped around her pretty fingers.

Ben smiled and kissed the crown of her head, and slowly, it turned into a trail of kisses down her face. Then he captured her lips, and soon enough, they were engaging in a heated make-out session.

“Ben,” She whispered as she gazed at him, voice a bit hoarse from screaming and crying beneath him for hours.

His hand was rubbing circles on her ass languidly, “What is it, dollface?” He drawls with a thick voice.

“Sorry for not being a good wife for you the last couple of months.” She said meekly, bringing his hands to cradle them in hers, while he just frowned at her words, “They were tough times on me, on us.” She sighed, pressing light kisses on his rough hands, “But everything's gonna be set right again, I promise.”

Ben's frown only got deeper when he noticed the lick of fear and desperation in her eyes and voice. Fuck, she was scared shitless. Fuck, fuck, fuck. His wife was scared if he was screwing around on her because of her lack of attention due to the pregnancy, for she used to shower him with doting and devotion as a good wife did. Fuck, did he, by any mean, do anything wrong to arise such qualms in her? He certainly did not. Then he fucking remembered that nasty reputation of his that proceeded him.

Fuck, gotta reassure her and chill her the fuck down. He can't have her in such a position. He can't have his home in such a precarious, dark place. Not after what the two of them had done to build what they had up. He wouldn't allow it.

“Hey,” He passed rough-padded thumbs under the lines of her eyes, palms caressing her cheeks, “Nothing went fucking wrong to set back right, sweetheart,” Then he gave her belly tender strokes, “You're an amazing wife,”

She was; everyday she woke up, five in the morning, to prepare him a delicious-ass breakfast. She took it upon herself to be his barber and shaved his beard almost everyday and trimmed his hair every now and then. She was patient when he wasn't. She embraced him when he was practically a walking ticking bomb. She patched him up — when needed — at night when he'd return to her roughed up from fighting crimes. She soothed him down when frustrated and angry. She took his bad temper and relieved it thoroughly. She was everything. She was home.

Ben's finger flicked her nose playfully, “As I'm fucking sure yer gonna be an amazing hot momma,”

Ah, here it was, the sheepish smile that reached her eyes. He'd fucking cherish it forever.

He kissed her forehead, “You're perfect; my perfect wife, my perfect home.”

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darkcat5923

1 year ago

leon babygirlification

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darkcat5923

8 months ago

Breeding Session || Dom!Hawks x Sub!Ftm Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Breeding, Needy Hawks, and Creampies

A/n: My doc messed up and wouldn't reload even when i tried to get the edit history and lost like over half the fic so enjoy :,)

Breeding Session || Dom!Hawks X Sub!Ftm Reader

"Fucking hell," Keigo talks with heavy breathes in between his words. His rut having hit him hard and suddenly, the only solution of pumping his hand as fast as he could to fuck the fleshlight in his grasp was starting to be a task more than anything. His other hand in his hair as he leans sits against the bed's headboard. Angrily tilting his head back as he groans, being pissed it's a silicone toy instead of you, his pretty song bird, moaning and whimpering for him as he pounds into you. "Sh-shit!" He curses, he knows he's close, upset about wasting another load inside a toy rather than his boyfriend. Groaning and panting as he feels himself getting closer and closer to his 3rd orgasm.

Jackhammering into the fleshlight as he thrust his hips up, slamming his hand down at the same time to stimulate his balls. Too busy cumming with loud groans and quiet whines inside the toy to realize you're finally home from work. Only sensing you're here when he hears the creek of the floorboards in your penthouse apartment. A specific spot in the shared building that Keigo has come to memorize. Pupils narrowing as he quickly moves to clean himself up as best he can with the towel he had placed underneath him. Moving to get to the bedroom door before you, eager to touch you, hold you, kiss you, fuck you.

He's determined to make it happen, now that he has his pretty boy, there's no way in hell Hawks is going to let you escape him. He's waited too long for you to get home, waited too long to breed you. "Keigo?" you call, opening the door a split second before he gets to it, having just the towel over him with the fleshlight propped up in the home made nest of your clothes on the bedside table as to not spill any cum from the toy. Dropping the towel so he can grab your arms as you enter the bedroom, quickly spinning you from the door to the wall off to the side of it, becoming slightly startled with concern soon replacing it as you look at Keigo. Realizing what's going on from just looking at him, pupils small and in slits as he breathes heavily,

Placing your hands on the sides of his face as a sign you’re here to help, having been with the man for allowing you to understand and know what he gets like during rut, the small gesture sending Keigo over the edge as he leans forward quickly to kiss you hungrily. His tongue in your mouth almost immediately, the kiss sloppy and already making you drool, the moan he lets out is downright sinful as you hear it, practically feeling it in your mouth as his hand work on your clothes. Trying desperately to get you out of them as quickly as he can, undoing your work shirt and pulling the buttoned top off you, pulling from you lips gently as he kisses your neck and shoulders.

Turning you around with his hand on your waist, skillfully keeping his lips on your kiss as he walks you backwards towards the bed, feeling him fall on top of you as he lowers his lips to your stomach. A sneaky way to be more confident in taking off your pants before he stands up, satisfied when he sees your boxers exposed, simply tearing them off you, impatient as ever when spring hits him. Getting on his knees to suck your hardening cock, groaning loudly at the feeling of you in his mouth, your hands tangle in his hair with your head tilted back, a moan ripping through you as his tongue lays flat against you.

Giving you slow puppy licks as he takes your legs and places your things on his shoulders, eagerly eating you out as his tongue moves to your entrance, soon being replaced with two fingers gently entering you as he moves back to suck your dick. Fingerings your cunt vigorously to prepare you for his cock, eager to be inside you and breed, the quiet and gentle moans you let out only spurring him on, feeling him pull from your cunt, fingerings leaving your entrance. The feeling making you whine and crave more, fully knowing you'll get just that in a few short moments as he stands, simply telling to "Scoot up," in a low and raspy voice.

An obvious sign to you that he's been moaning or at least being loud while using the fleshlight you quickly noticed, doing as he says so he can crawl atop of you. Soon feeling his tip rest poke at your entrance, not entering you as Keigo pleads silently, his eyes soft as when gently whines at you, rubbing his cock up and down against your pussy. Reaching your hand out just a bit to have him lean down further down, making him lower the hand he was using to support himself up, suddenly bends and he's only using his forearm.

Pushing your head up to kiss him softly, hearing his gentle whimper, pulling away too much to kiss dismay as he whines to try and continue the kiss, leaning forward each time you pull away to reconnect your lips. "Kei," he kisses you again, "Kei," you say again in between his kisses, "Keigo," the stern tone finally getting his attention, his eyes wide and alter with his wings flared up, spread out to show he's listening, "Gonna breed me, huh pretty bird?" The gentle tone of your deep voice gets to him wings now fully pointed up, almost touching the ceiling of the bedroom, eyes sharpening and pupils once again becoming small lines in his irises.

"F-fuck!" you yell, immediately feeling him push inside you, thankful for your wetness and his precum because of the speed he instantly starts to use, head thrown back as you gasp. Feeling him rise off you and swiftly moving onto his knees while lifting your hips up yo fuck into your cunt. Biting your lip as you look at him, a beautiful sight above you as you hear his soft and quiet pants, head tilted back but face still slightly visible, eyes closed and mouth slightly hung open. Brows furrowed as he thrust almost erratically, only a slight rhythm prevailing as he tryst to fuck you properly, always having been a man for intimate sex rather than a quickie or animalistic fucking.

"K-keigo," you hiccup, watching him flap the ends of his wings to show his attention is on your voice with his lidded eyes looking at you as he pants, "Fuck me!" You gasp, feeling him pause at the command, shock subtle on his face before he leans down to curl his hips into at an insanely fast pace while over you. His head to the side of yours as he whimpers, the sloppy but steady pattern now gone as he thrust however he feels like, hearing his wing flap quickly and feeling the small amount of wind he's creating on your skin."Keigo," the stern tone finally getting his attention, his eyes wide and alter with his wings flared up, spread out to show he's listening, "Gonna breed me, huh pretty bird?" The gentle tone of your deep voice gets to him, wings now fully pointed up, almost touching the ceiling of the bedroom, eyes sharpening and pupils once again becoming small lines in his irises.

Feeling him once again lean on top of you once more as he rushes to cum inside you, pounding into you at an insanely fast pace, the hero work and exercises paying off as makes you scream, feeling him hit deep inside you as he lets out breathy moans. Panting every now and then with quiet groans leaving his throat, feeling him move to grab your hands and intertwining you fingers as he holds your hand, arms bent to line up with each others as you hear him speak, “Gonna!- Gonna cum!” he hiccups. Whining as he feels himself getting close, the difference of the toy and you driving him over the edge faster than he himself would like, the final straw is when you tell him to, almost demanding him to breed you, “Cum inside pretty bird, breed me,” is all it takes.

Feeling the warmth of his cum spread inside you as he gives a final few shallow thrust, breathing heavy and groaning as he pauses inside you, feeling just some of his cum spilling out of you as you turn your head to look at him. Kissing his cheek softly to get his attention, not leaning to do any more work as he connects your lips in another slow kiss. His hips starting to move once again, slowly and shallowly as cum spills every time he pulls out and pushes back in, whining into the kiss as he fucks you gently, pulling away occasionally tp speak, “Feel so good,” he kissed you, “Just wanna stay inside you forever,” another kiss. “My pretty song bird.”

Soon pushing his tongue past your lips to desperately explore your mouth in a wet and noisy french kiss,your hands tangling again in his hair as he picks up the pace and intensity, moving one hand to let go of yours to jerk your t-dick. The pleasure getting to you as you moan into his mouth, a comical string of spit connecting the two of you as he moves away, lifting you up to bend your legs as he’s on his knees. Holding your waist to push and pull you onto his dick, moving your hands to rest on his abdomen with your head thrown back, both of you moaning like you’re making a damn porno. Moving one hand back to your cock to make you cum, the rough and deep voice he speaks in telling you so. “Cum for me song bird, please I need it, come on baby,” rubbing your dick quickly as you cry out, knowing you're in for a long few nights.

The loud noises you make as he picks up the pace of not only his hips but his hands, telling him he’s doing a good job, taking your sounds as praise as you hear him loudly whine and gasp, practically screaming out, “I’m gonna cum!” Spurring him on to move at an impossibly fast rate, “C-cum with me!” he cries, soon following the command as your tightening walls cause him to cum inside you again. The feeling of him filling you up as your body tightens with the harsh orgasm ripping through you, screaming out as he falls on top of you, almost completely limp on you as he breathes heavily. The two of you pants with exhaustion, whining as he pulls out, softening dick resting against your thigh as he turns you two over to the side of the bed, laying best he can without the pool of cum in the middle of the bed touching either of you.

Softly breathing as he regains his composure, falling asleep rather quickly, turning to fix the hair stuck to his face best you can with your back to him, simply laying in silence as he hums quietly in his sleep, knowing he’ll wake up and want more.

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darkcat5923

1 year ago

he’s got the goods (a lil moushley for the journey ahead)

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darkcat5923

3 years ago

Hey Tumblr Long Time No Art! :O Sometimes I Just. Forget I Have A Page Here. Anyways, Here’s A Collection

hey tumblr long time no art! :O sometimes I just. forget I have a page here. anyways, here’s a collection of all the Star Wars mermaids I did for mermay last month :) the sw brainrot consumes my every waking moment

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