#Stretching the definition of art here a little but fuck it

[photon-crest-art]

I've been dipping my toes back into Miitopia recently, mainly just Mii making atm, but maybe I'll finally continue playthrough soon. There don't seem to be many Corporate Clash Miis out there, so I figured I'd take a shot at making one of the characters.

My access code is 56TJJ97 if anyone would like to grab her.

[fushitoru]

i can't stop looking at his d—d—d—d—FACE!

pairings ⸺ (SEPERATE) boy next door!gojo x reader, wrestler!toji x reader, gym trainer!sukuna x reader, pizza delivery boy!choso x reader, husband's boss!nanami x reader, perv on train!geto x reader

summary ⸺ jjk men as overused p0rn/h3ntai plots! inspired by this awesome post by the talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular @/osamucide! pls check it out and the rest of his work :3

warnings ⸺ SMUT (mdni), consent is pre-established in all scenarios (but dub con just in case), everyone is of age (or older), exhibitionism, infidelity in nanami’s, pussy drunk men lol, not edited (as always), cowgirl, missionary, creampies, VERY public sex in toji’s, art by 3-aem, lmk if I’ve missed anything!

a/n lolll i'm ngl this was so fun to write. some of these scenarios are so funnny hELP. this one is also for some of the anons who are so obsessed w choso and sukuna in bridgerton au. wrote them for you 🫡 choso’s is my fav hehe

NEW: part 2 here

general masterlist

SUKUNA RYOMEN ⸺ HOTTIE'S PERSONAL TRAINER HAS A VERY HANDS ON APPROACH!

“Brat!” Sukuna’s voice cuts through the air like a whip. “Watch your back. You’re supposed to be hinging your hips back, not whatever lazy shit you were doing.”

He steps around to your side, the heavy thud of his boots on the gym floor adding to the oppressive weight of his presence. Squatting down, he sets his hips back in one smooth motion, demonstrating with sharp precision. “Like this. Not whatever the fuck that was.”

You glance at him, your legs trembling under you. Sweat clings to your skin, a thin sheen that feels heavy after the grueling thirty minutes with your personal trainer. Sukuna definitely takes the "tiger mom" approach, every tattoo on his body echoing the sharp, uncompromising authority in his eyes. Right now, those eyes bore into you, narrowed with impatience, his hands on his hips. His scowl is practically carved into his face—stone-hard and unmoving.

Breathing hard, you slump forward, hands gripping your knees as you gasp for air. Your heartbeat drums loudly in your ears. “Sukuna, g-give me a sec. I just—fuck—” You can barely string a sentence together between gulps of air. “I just maxed out. My legs are literally shaking.”

Sukuna clicks his tongue, shaking his head in disappointment, but his voice softens—just a little. “Fine. Catch your breath. But as you do that, let’s practice proper form.”

You nod exhaustedly, not being able to think very clearly. Wiping the sweat to prevent it from getting into your eyes, you put your legs hip width apart as Sukuna gets behind you to observe your form. You bend down, trying to sit back onto your hips as best as possible, but as soon as your ass grazes Sukuna’s crotch, you lose the form in your back in surprise. “Sorry—”

“That was wrong.” Sukuna’s voice is in your ear as he puts his hands on your hips, and you are dizzy with the contact. “Here.” Both of you squat down, Sukuna’s hard body moving right behind you, and at the lowest position, Sukuna’s thumb roves over the fat of your ass, and they leave your hips to trace up your back. “Your back should be neutral, otherwise you’re going to hurt yourself.”

“O—okay,” you breathily reply, dizzy with the way he was touching you. If you listened closely, it almost sounded as if you were whimpering. Unfortunately for you, it seemed like Sukuna was more observant than you had hoped because he was looking at you in suspicion, eyes raking up and down your figure to observe your appearance. Disheveled, chest rising rapidly, sweat dripping right in the middle of your breasts—

Sukuna, out of nowhere, grabs your hand and begins walking away. “Come with me. You’re not doing them right.”

Soon, you’re led into one of the gym’s stretching rooms—the private ones, the ones meant for Sukuna to help you after the workout. 

“Sukuna, what are we—” you breathlessly ask, but you’re quickly shushed by Sukuna as he hoists himself on the massage table.

“Come here,” he motions to his lap, and you wordlessly follow his directions, sitting directly on top of his lap, gasping as you realize there’s a bulge making contact with your pussy. “We’re going to try an alternative way of doing squats, one that involves a bit more cardio.” He pulls down his sweatpants, blushing, furious cock springing out as he pulls down your yoga pants.

Soon, you’re moaning as you slowly take in his cock, sliding down as his precum and your copious amount of slick mix and drip onto his pelvis. Your feet are on either side of his legs, making you squat every time you lower yourself down on his length.

“Fuck! You’re so tight.” He slaps your ass as you bounce yourself rapidly on his cock. “Pretended to not know how to squat just for me to put this fat cock in you, isn’t that right?”

You didn’t have the capacity to answer, just moan as his cock hits your spot. Unsatisfied with your pace, Sukuna flips you both over until your back is on the table. 

“Oh fuck yea,” Sukuna pants, hips pistoning into you rapidly, effectively fucking you into the table, and his quads are bulging in sheer strength as they clench and unclench in reflection of his pleasure. “Didn’t know my client had such a sweet pussy.”

KAMO CHOSO ⸺ SHE ORDERS BIG SAUSAGE PIZZA AND GETS HER DEEP DICK CRAVINGS FILLED! (the title is so ridiculous im crying)

“Your total’s $14.93. You’re five bucks short.” The delivery boy—an emo looking guy with hair in space buns—responds to the wad of cash and coins you had just given him. He couldn’t look any less bored than he was as he stared down impassively at you, hot, steaming pizza in one hand.

"Wait, but I ordered a small?" You ask him in confusion. "I couldn't possibly finish a large one by myself!"

He pulls out your receipt from where it was tucked into the pizza box. "Your order said a large." Upon glancing on it, you look that he was indeed correct—right next to your pizza, the size LARGE glared at you through the sheen of the reciept's paper.

"Oh," You said, dumbly, blinking in confusion. "Well, I can pay the rest in card if that's okay."

You get an impassive "I don't have a card reader."

"Oh, okay," you laugh nervously, hand going up to scratch the back of your head and fiddle with the rest of your fingers. "Okay, well," you squinted at his nametag, "Choso, let me just check the remaining cash I have. You can come inside if you'd like." 

He comes inside, dropping off the pizza you ordered on your kitchen counter as he makes his way to sit on your couch. You go to your bedroom, checking your desk drawer for any loose cash you may have stored but to no avail. Heart racing and nervous, you frantically search the upper shelf of your room, on your tiptoes as you look for your money jar, praying that there was a 5 dollar piece of cash lying around. Instead, your fingers crash against some book propped on it, tumbling down onto the floor with a large thud!

You hear footsteps coming up to your bedroom door. Choso, standing near the door. "You good?"

"Yea," you strain, still reaching up high to grasp at the jar. "I'm just trying to find somethi—”

The heat of Choso's body surrounds you as he presses closer to you, reaching up effortlessly to grab at the money jar. His groin presses against your backside, acutely aware of his breaths as he passes you the jar. 

Which is empty.

"Fuck!" you curse. You turn, looking at Choso in anxiousness, as you notice he hasn't backed away at all. "I'm sorry, but is there any alternative way to pay for the pizza? Again, I'm really really sorry for the hassle."

"You have to pay for the food in some sort of way," he says with a stony face. Your mind is racing, thinking of ways you could pay but coming up short.

As a result, you end up with your face stuffed against your pillow, the hot delivery boy plowing and drilling his cock into you. 

"Fuck, so irresponsible. Couldn't even pay for the pizza she ordered without a stranger's cock inside of her." At his dirty talk, you whimper and squeeze your pussy, Choso groaning as a result.

"What was that?" He grabs your hair and pulls your face up as his tongue traces the frame of your ear. "What were you trying to say, you cockslut?"

"'M sorry!" You squealed and babbled, eliciting little ah! ah! ah!'s as he continues bumping his cockhead against the gooey spot inside your pussy.

"Yea, you better be. Wasting my fucking time. I'm going to come inside, got it?" Choso growls as he continues pistoning his hips inside.

GETO SUGURU ⸺ ANIME GIRL GETS HER PUSSY FINGERED ON PUBLIC TRAIN!

He pulls you in for a deep kiss while rutting inside you. "Aren't you my good girl? Taking this cock for me like a good girl?" You squeal, blabbering nonsense as he fucks you into next Tuesday…

You read the smut from your favorite author on Tumblr, devouring each word while remaining stony faced as the train rocked underneath your feet. In the corner facing the doors, you made sure that you were angled in such a way that no one would be able to see the filthy things you were reading on your screen. 

However, the metro was slowing down and you looked up quickly—which was painful, considering you were so invested in the story—to make sure it wasn't your stop. As the rush of foot traffic simultaneously populated and vacated the metro, you paid no attention to the people behind you. After all, other people would be too busy on their phones to see what you were reading, right?

"You're going to take this cum, right? I'm going to breed you, my sweet, sweet girl." He laughs.  You take a moment to take in his pretty features. Long hair, beautiful face, all filled with lust for you...

You scan the words, blush evident on your face as your favorite writer has done it yet again. Adjusting, you squeezed your thighs for relief and toyed with the hem of your skirt, failing to notice the soft breaths trailing down the back of your neck just because of how enthralled and taken you were with the plot.

And then, a hand trailed up your thigh, catching you by alarm. You almost drop your phone in your rush to turn and look at the creep that was touching you, ready to beat the shit out of him. 

But when you do turn, you stop and widen your eyes. The man in front of you seems even prettier than the fictional man you were reading about, and you take him in as he rubs circles on your thigh. His sultry eyes rake down your figure, his lips pulled back in a knowing smirk. "That's some filthy shit you're reading."

Looking at him, your heart starts beating faster solely because of the promise of what his hands would do as they were currently softly stroking your thighs, getting closer and closer to going under your shirt. "I—I—uh sorry—I—"

"It's okay, pretty girl." He gives you a kiss on the side of your neck. "Continue reading it. Can you do that, baby?"

You nod, not trusting your voice. Coincidentally, you're at the part where the man helps the girl masturbate, rubbing and teasing her pussy up and down. The man behind you does the same, teasing your lips while refusing to delve inside your panties, no matter how badly you want him to do.

"That feel good?"

You whimper. "Yes—ah—it feels good. Please touch me on my pussy directly. Please."

The man behind you chuckles, and your knees buckle at how rich his voice is. You would join a cult for this man. "Since you asked so nicely, I will. Call me Suguru."

His fingers pull your panties aside and enters, soon knuckle deep inside your cunt, and as quietly as you can, you moan his name as he continues fingering you in front of all the strangers on the train. His hips press closer to your ass, and you throb even more at the huge bulge he’s sporting. He’s sloppily licking on the outside of your ear, right where you’re sensitive, and you shiver and lose yourself in the pressure even more.

The pleasure was building in you steadily and Suguru groans. “That’s right, take it all.”

You almost jump when the PA sounds. "The next stop is Shinjuku."

“That’s my stop. You have to cum before then, or you won’t be able to cum,” Suguru whispers in your ear, speeding up and hitting your g-spot with precision. There are tears forming in your eyes as you make an effort to stay quiet, especially with Suguru giving seductive kisses to your sensitive neck. 

“Fuck, you got so tight,” he groans. “Gonna cum?” He uses his thumb to rub fast circles on your clit, and you see stars. 

“I will—I will,” you cry, as the throbbing and pulsing sensation grows faster and faster until finally, you cum with a muffled cry, because Suguru has his fingers in your mouth to ensure you don’t scream out on this very, very public train.  “Squeezing my fingers so much, relax,” Suguru laughs, popping his slick-coated fingers in his mouth. “You gonna do that to my dick next?”

NANAMI KENTO ⸺ BEAUTIFUL WIFE HAS TO FUCK HER HUSBAND'S BOSS! (NTR)

“Mr. Nanami,” you scrape a hand through your hair and clear your throat. “You wanted to see me?” 

For a moment, your husband’s handsome boss eyes you down, catching on the top button of your blouse currently unbuttoned. You mainly did it because of nervousness, the heat of the room escalating with Nanami Kento’s presence. After a long bout of intimidating silence, he finally speaks. “I assume you can guess why you are here?”

You bounce your knee as you sit across from the man, and you suddenly start sweating. Of course you can guess. Your bum of a husband—the one currently under your charge—neglects to do his deliverables, choosing to take comfort in the fact that you were his higher-up to trust that he would not be getting terminated for his lack of responsibility. 

But what he doesn’t know is that you’ve been begging Nanami not to fire him, despite the propelling and clear reasons to do so. And you fear the day he finally chooses to stop listening to you. 

“Team leader, I’m going to need much more convincing. Your team has been decreasing in productivity ever since your husband joined, and it’s hindering the company,” he reminds you stoically. “I’ve seen you working overtime far too frequently to cover up for your spouse’s negligence.”

You wish time would speed up just to get this difficult conversation with. “I—I’m going to be honest, Mr. Nanami. I don’t have much warrant to continue having him on the team, but it would put my family in much…emotional conflict if this were to happen.” The said emotional conflict would really only be from your husband. You’re sure he’s going to take this as an excuse to drink himself silly, blaming you for not being able to keep him employed. Your throat dries as you finally meet eyes with your boss, silently pleading him to come up with a solution.

“I see.” Nanami crosses his arms. “I suppose there is a…favor you could do for me.”

At that, you perk up and nod your head frantically. “Of course. Anything.”

Which is why you find yourself bent over Nanami’s desk, his cock drilling inside you. He’s ripped your stockings, pulled up your miniskirt, and put your panties to the side as he moans about how sweet your pussy feels. “I’ve been waiting for this forever. Tell me, is my cock better than his?”

“It is!” you squeal. “You’re so—so big!”

Nanami moans as he ruts inside you, your walls squeezing him tight. “Darling, I c—can tell he doesn’t treat you right. You are so tight around me, pussy’s been waiting for a while for a real man.” 

You moan and curse, blabbering affirmations while his dick impales you. Even though Nanami is the one who’s owed the favor here, his hands wind their way around your body to rub at your clit, simulating you even more, making you sob. “Please don’t stop!”

“I won’t ever, sweetheart,” he pants. “I’m going to finish inside her, okay? Make sure to keep it in when you go home and greet your husband.”

FUSHIGURO TOJI ⸺ BABE GETS IMMEDIATELY DESTROYED IN NAKED WRESTLING (WITH AN AUDIENCE) (find extended ver here!)

Cheers surround you as you step into the arena. You know who your opponent is—-Fushiguro Toji. Even when you looked at his pictures earlier, you knew you were doomed. No matter what angle the photographer took the photos in, his muscles seemed to be bulging, effectively spelling out the sore defeat you were about to face today.

And there he is. Him in the flesh. He’s leaning against the boxing ring’s outer borders, head tilted back lazily while his manager, Shiu, was informing him quickly (and intensely) about the rules of today.

Nothing crazy. Only fuck when all clothes are off of her.

The way his neck is tilted back, compression shirt showing off his upper physique made you weak in the knees already. Additionally, judging based off of the bulge he seemed to be sporting in his grey sweatpants, you knew you were doubly fucked.

Shiu seems to be done talking, so he steps back and takes a seat. Toji leans his head back, rolling his neck to stretch it out, and in the middle of doing so, catches your eye.

You almost drench your panties.

His eyes darken, giving you a sultry look as he cheekily winks. While his cocky demeanor was warranted (he was much stronger and bigger than you), your cheeks heated up in both arousal and irritation.

The sound of a whistle is heard as music starts to play. The stadium’s screens flashes the cocky image of Toji, who saunters in the middle of the ring, flexing his muscles to his screaming fans.

When your signature theme plays, you do the same, to no shortage of fans yourself. You can feel everyone in the stadium, especially your male fans, rove over your figure. You’re wearing a very low cut top that displays the swell of your boobs and even tighter shorts that squeeze your ass and show off the shape of your pussy. As you walk towards Toji, you can feel his heavy gaze on you as you nervously shake his hand.

“Try to last long, okay?” Toji smirks, patting your shoulder. “I’ll try to drag this out as much as I can, but it’s gonna be fuckin hard if that ass is grinding against me.”

You glare at him, but there’s not much intensity there. “Yea, yea,” you huff. “For all I know, you’ll be my personal dildo today.”

And the fucker’s smile widens. “Let the games begin.”

Soon enough, the sound of the whistle draws you towards each other, keeping each other in a lock to tackle the other down in an objective to take off layers of their clothing. Your fans cheer when you have Toji underneath you for a split second, only for female ones to become more riotous as he easily overtakes you, pins your hands down, and wrenches your shorts off of you.

“Toji is currently in the lead!” The announcer’s voice in the stadium echoes of your defeat as you flail around, now bottoms only covered by your panties. Deciding to pull out your signature move, you maneuver so your thighs surround Toji’s waist and hump your hips against his bulge. This momentarily distracts and weakens Toji, and you take full advantage of it by overtaking him and now straddling him. You quickly take off his shirt, salivating at the muscles you see. The whole stadium, in fact, can his abs and pecs glistening with sweat.

Your attention is back to Toji as he chuckles darkly. “You’re going to regret that. I was going to drag this out, princess, but I gotta fuck the brat out of you.” With that, he puts his whole body weight on you and strips you down one by one.

The arena cheers as your lace bra is uncovered, your sweat shining on the screen as your breasts are displayed. Toji then unhooks your bra, and the roars get even louder as your tits pop out. He takes a moment to grope them, your whines ignored as he pinches your nipples. “What a sensitive girl,” he coos. “Too bad she was too weak. Now she’s going through to have to take my cock.

With that, he finally unveils your glistening pussy for all eyes to see and the crowd goes wild, chanting for Toji to finish inside you. Toji flips you over so you’re on your hands and knees and pulls down his pants.

You don’t look back at the monster that’s about to enter you for the sake of your mental health, but your legs are shaking in anticipation of his cock, slick dripping down your thighs.

“Fuck.” And Toji’s slowly entering you, the humiliating plap! plap! plap! of his hips against the flesh of your ass echoing multiple strangers watch your pussy get wrecked. “The fuck this pussy’s so tight for? Thought you were a slut?”

You’re tearing up, but not fucked out enough to prevent you from snarkily replying, “You’re not turning me on, small dick.”

He did not like that very much.

Toji drills his hips into yours faster and slaps your ass multiple times consecutively. “Yea, so why is she clenching so fucking much? Why is she dripping? Just for that, I’m going to come inside of your slutty pussy.”

The crowd chants cum, cum, cum! and Toji just does that. Ropes of his cum fill you, and you drop down in exhaustion to hear Toji declared as winner.

GOJO SATORU ⸺ GIRL GETS FUCKED BY PEEPING TOM NEXT DOOR!

You sigh, extending your back and un clipping your bra, letting your tits bounce free after a long, long week of college. It was finally Friday night, and with no one in the house due to a party the rest of your family was attending, you could finally enjoy your time home on the holidays, starting with a solo session.

You clench your thighs in anticipation as you scrolled your phone, seeking an audio you could masturbate to. And you were close to finding one, until you felt eyes on you.

These eyes were nothing new. The boy next door, Gojo Satoru, has also been your crush since middle school. Even though neither of you have ever made a move, you’ve made bold moves since starting college, stripping with the blinds open to give him a show. You had kind of had a sixth sense as to when the fucker would start watching you, and it flared as you slowly dragged your hands down. Bending over and shaking your ass, you slipped your skimpy shorts down your legs, giving him a clear view of your wet pussy.

But masturbating wasn’t enough for today. None of the college frat bros could make you cum, no matter how much they boasted about their fuckin roster, and you were tired of Satoru just watching. Just seeing him work out shirtless in his lawn, sun shining his sweat to give him a golden halo, was enough to make you sick, hungry for his dick. The way he was so shy and the mannerisms he had (as a loser) let you know he had a big fucking dick.

Needless, to say, you were tired of just fantasizing and speculating about his dick. Turning around, the moonlight allowed you to see the silhouette of his wrist moving up and down his length, even if he had tried to make his best effort to darken his rooms. Putting on your best show of an angry face, you grab your phone aggressively and dial his number.

The line rings, and he picks up. “Hey,” and you can tell he’s a little breathless. “long time no see. What’s up?”

“Cut the fucking act out,” you spit. “I know you’ve been fucking watching me, perv.”

Satoru’s panic is comically obvious over the phone as he rushes his words. “Wait, wait—listen, I—I can explain.”

“On how you’re being a peeping tom?” You glare at his window. “Come over, Gojo. Then I’ll listen to your fucking explanation.”

One thing leads to another, and now you’re spread out on your childhood bed, Gojo whimpering and whining as he plows his dick into your pussy. “You feel so—so good. M’ sorry—sorry for doing that. Your pussy is too good for me to look at.”

You laugh meanly and grab his chin. “You feel sorry yet, you pervert?” And Satoru can only cry out as you yank his head. “Remember, this is the only fucking thing you’re good at. Being my glorified dildo. Got it? Now, you’re going to fill me up only after you make me cum at least two times.”

a/n yea this was depraved….lmk what yall think tho 😭

comment and reblog I’d love to hear your thoughts! (also, requests are open heheh)

NEW: part 2 here!

[luffington]

OMG im obsessed with the fic with Cora and Doffy X Reader! i was wondering if i could request just Corazon X Reader? im absolutely crazy about the idea of sweet Cora having those repressed sadistic urges, and his struggle with wanting to be soft and kind, but cant help liking the darker and meaner, its just. UGH SO GOOD

Maybe the reader could have picked up on that a bit and is teasing him into giving in to those urges (which they're totally into lol)

Also i love your fics sm! keep up the great work <3

✧.* art credit!

➤ pairing: donquixote rosinante (corazon) x gn!reader

➤ word count: 1.3k

➤ warnings: dom!corazon, possessive!corazon, dacryphilia, oral (m receiving), praise kink, established relationship, fem reader

RIGHT ITS SUCH A GOOD CONCEPT!!! we barely know anything about cora outside of what law experienced and we'll probably never find out more so.... character interpretation!

my first draft of this had a paragraph where the reader acted bratty to try to coax out his mean side and he almost starting crying.... i took it out because i couldn't do that to him (ㅠ‸ㅠ)

this ended up being pretty similar to the other fic (read here) but i hope you like it!

NSFW under the break! minors dni thank uuu

Corazon was the sweetest man you’d ever met. Sure, he was a master of deception – hiding his Devil Fruit powers and tricking his brother into trusting him was definitely not an easy feat. His anger issues could use some work, even though the reasons behind his outrage were always justified. But his loving personality and strong sense of morality were very real.

He never doubted your kind heart, either. You had joined the Donquixote Family simply because you had no other options, and dealing with his crazy older brother was better than starving on the streets. Corazon was able to relax around you, be silly and affectionate without being judged by his cold-hearted coworkers, and finally speak after long stretches of staying silent.

But there was more to him.

Doflamingo seemed to be the black sheep based on what little you knew about the biological Donquixotes. A rare case of madness in an otherwise well-intentioned family. However, the brothers still shared the same genes and the same horrific childhood. And even though Corazon never discussed his experiences in the Navy, he certainly witnessed terrible things that still weighed on his mind.

Your boyfriend tried his best to keep any deep-rooted darkness away from you, but it was unhealthy for him to repress every negative emotion. You wanted him to feel comfortable around you. He didn’t need to be an angel all the time.

One time, the eternally clumsy blonde almost fell trying to hover above you in bed. Not wanting to crush you with his ten-foot tall body, he caught himself by grabbing your arm. Hard. You squeaked in surprise and he immediately apologized, but dark blue fingerprint-shaped bruises stained your skin by the end of the night.

Early the next morning, when he thought you were still asleep, he lightly traced the marks over and over. You caught him staring at them throughout the day, too, looking more intrigued than upset. He littered your neck, chest, and thighs with hickies the next time you fucked, and you realized inflicting pain wasn’t what turned him on – he didn’t want to hurt you, he wanted to mark you. Those were his fingerprints on your arm.

So much was taken away from him at a young age that of course he wanted to claim you as his own. Hickies were more conventionally sexy than bruises, so he was less ashamed about admiring them in front of you and telling you how pretty you look. Even gently rubbing a large one on your neck during a Family meeting, which made his brother huff and tell you to get a room. Corazon did get a room after that – pulled you aside into a private bathroom and fucked you against the sink while making you stare at yourself in the mirror. Whispering in a deep voice about how the color of your hickies matched his plum-colored lipstick.

A few weeks later, he came home in the middle of the night after being away on a mission with Diamante and Trebol for nearly a week. Thunder boomed outside the window and his feathery black coat left behind a trail of rainwater as he stumbled into your shared room. His tall frame visibly shook with anger, his dark sunglasses barely covered the fury burning in his eyes. You got out of bed to greet him and asked how the operation went, but he just pulled you into a very wet hug and mumbled, “I don’t want to think about it ever again.” 

You blinked slowly and whispered, “I can help you forget.”

The blonde threw his half-burned cigarette to the floor then smashed his lips against yours. He didn’t bother taking the time to build up to a heated kiss. Immediately biting your lower lip raw before pushing his long tongue inside your mouth. Your eyes fluttered shut, easily submitting and letting him take whatever he wanted from you. The smell of smoke caught both of your attention. Corazon instinctively stomped out the cigarette ashes smoldering on the throw rug without tearing away from the kiss for even a moment. 

“Let me use you.” He looked as desperate as he sounded. “Just for tonight, can you be my little doll? I’ll make it up to you later, I promise, I’ll be so good to you.” Heat shot straight to your core and you nodded fervently, clutching onto his drenched clothes like your life depended on it.

Which is how you ended up with his lengthy cock down your throat, your bare ass in the air and body wedged between his sprawled-out legs. Calloused fingers tangled in your hair to firmly guide you up and down. Graciously giving you time to relax by letting you swirl your tongue around the swollen tip, though he never pulled you entirely off his dick. He looked so pretty like this – damp hair clinging to his forehead, pale cheeks turned pretty pink, subtly squirming on the mattress, pupils fully blown out with lust. 

Corazon suddenly thrust upwards to hear you gag, several inches of his cock forcing their way into your tight throat. Tiny teardrops reflexively lined your eyes as your gag reflex kicked in. You expected the blonde to panic and immediately stop – even though it was just your body’s natural reaction and you were enjoying every second. But instead, he licked his lips like he wanted to devour you. 

There were those Doflamingo genes.

But unlike his selfish brother, Corazon asked if you were comfortable with everything happening for the second time that night. You gave him an enthusiastic thumbs up, obviously unable to verbally confirm with his dick stretching your mouth to its limit. His cock drooled salty precum onto your tongue as thick globs of your drool dripped down to his balls. 

You used both hands to stroke the rest of his length that couldn’t fit in your mouth – the huge man had a huge dick to match. Corazon swatted them away, held your wrists in one giant hand then pushed down hard until every inch of him was deep in your throat, messy blonde pubes tickling your nose. He was glad he set up a sound barrier, otherwise the entire Family would’ve heard the debauched moan that spilled from his lips.

After a few moments of admiring you and the prominent bulge in your throat, your boyfriend released you just before it became too much. “Good girl,” Corazon panted with a dazed smile. “Such a good girl, taking it all like you’re supposed to.”

He gave up trying to hold back after that, bucking his hips against your face and rambling about how pretty and perfect you looked like this. He pressed your head all the way down again just before he hit his peak, shooting a large load of cum directly into your stomach. When he saw your ruined state, a dark pit formed in his stomach. Tears stained your cheeks and spit dripped down your chin as you gasped for air, and he was turned on by it. 

Corazon quickly pulled you close to press soft kisses against your cheek and make sure you were okay. Nothing you said seemed to convince him, so you brought his hand between your thighs. When he swiped a finger through your folds, his eyes widened at how wet you were. He admired the way your sticky juices webbed between his digits, then immediately began toying with your cunt.

“I would’ve stopped you if you didn’t like it,” you grinned, shamelessly rutting against the palm of his hand. “Ruin me with your cock more. I’ll be a good toy for you.”

Corazon gulped, stomach fluttering with sinful excitement. “O-Okay, if… if you’re sure that’s what you want.”

Both of you knew he wanted it more than anything.

[slytherinslut0]

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Three- Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

(This will essentially be a toxic book where we are Thèos fucktoy. No love here, very minimal fluff.)

Tags: 18+, PURE SMUT, Sub!Reader, Dom!Mattheo, Oral Sex (M Rec), Throat Fucking, Toxic Behaviour, Blackmail, Praise Kink, Degradation Kink, Humiliation, Manipulation, Gagging, Spitting, DubCon, CNC.

**here’s: one, two, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen & twenty.

As you approached the door of the familiar private classroom, a subtle sense of unease gnawed at the edges of your confidence.

Admittedly you got lost in the depths of your homework after dinner, becoming absorbed in the swirls of ink on your parchment, diligently crafting your Astronomy essay due in a mere three weeks from now. The minutes seemingly slipped away, and you realized you were running late for today's tutoring session, the devastating consequence of your intense focus on your academic obligations.

However, considering Mattheo's habitual tardiness--one of which he has mastered as well as any given art form--you assumed your delay wouldn't be at all consequential, and would most likely even go unnoticed. So without really thinking twice about it, you gently pushed open the door, expecting the room to be empty, the usual silence welcoming you as you stepped inside.

But then, to your astonishment, the room was not vacant. There he was, Mattheo Riddle, perched on the chair with an air of casual authority. His long legs were stretched out before him, feet confidently resting on the desk's edge, displaying a newfound confidence that sent a shiver down your spine. His arms were folded, his posture exuding an almost predatory assurance. His eyes, dark as the night and twice as intense, followed your every move as you stepped inside. The atmosphere crackled with tension, the weight of his gaze pressing upon you.

You closed the door with a deliberate slowness, the soft click echoing through the room like a gunshot in the silence, and his eyes locked onto yours, silently challenging you.

"Well, well, look who finally decided to show up." He taunted, his voice laced with a poisonous charm. The room seemed to shrink in the wake of his suffocating arrogance. "Guess Ravenclaws little good girl isn't so perfect after all...who would have guessed."

You rolled your eyes, a flush of embarrassment staining your cheeks as you awkwardly dropped your gaze to the floor. The weight of being late for the first time in your life was almost palpable, but you made an effort to play it off, attempting to regain your composure despite the lingering discomfort.

"Save the mind games for someone who's willing to play, Riddle," you said, slowly making your way toward him. "You have no right to talk, you're late every single week."

"Yeah but I'm not the one who turns into a sobbing mess over a less-than-perfect grade," Mattheo sneered, his tone dripping with disdain. "I don't have mental breakdowns just because I'm not the class's golden child in everything, and I'm definitely not the one who's about to graduate in merely a few months while still a fucking virgin-"

Your jaw dropped in astonishment at his audacity, a surge of indignation propelling you to slam your bag down on the desk in front of him. The force of your action knocked his feet off the desk, abruptly interrupting whatever sentence he had intended to finish, leaving him silenced in disbelief.

"At least I'm going to fucking graduate without needing someone to hold my hand like a child." You hissed, the words slipping past your teeth before you even had a chance to process them. "For someone who needs me so much, you sure don't act like you appreciate my help."

Mattheo's eyes darkened, a storm of arrogance and anger swirling in their depths, transforming his usual stoic demeanor into a deep scowl etched across his face. He rose from his seat, his tall frame looming over you, casting a shadow that seemed to stretch across the room.

"You think I need you, Raven?" He purred, wetting his lips. "You really think that?"

You steeled your jaw, strengthening your stance, ignoring the fact that your fingers were trembling like leaves in the autumn wind.

"Where would you be without me, Riddle?" You whispered, kinking your neck back to catch his dark, hungry eyes. "How many tutors did you have before me? How many other students tried to help you but couldn't stand your arrogant, no-fucks-given attitude, hm?"

Your words draped the air with a palpable gravity, silencing Mattheo completely--an unprecedented reaction, given his usual quick retorts. The revelation ignited a fierce ember within you, fueling your resolve and lending a sharp edge to your words, as if each syllable carried the weight of your determination.

"That's what I thought..." your voice was low, reverberating as a mere whisper in the air, something flickering behind Mattheo's eyes that made your lips curl into a devilish smirk. "You know that without me, you'd be here forever...maybe you've managed to manipulate me into being your little toy, but that doesn't change the truth about this whole thing...you need me, Riddle, you fucking need me..."

Mattheo blinked, the ensuing silence lingering for what felt like a painful fucking eternity--time seemed to come to a standstill, everything around you fading into insignificance, leaving just you and the cunning, arrogant boy with tousled hair in your presence.

When he finally spoke, You couldn't shake the sinking feeling in your stomach, understanding all too well that his words were laced with an arrogant twist, a prelude to something manipulative and cunning yet to unfold.

"You're right," he finally said, stepping closer. "I do need you,"

His voice dipped into a low, sinister register, and the corners of his lips curled into a sadistic smile, sending a chill down your spine.

"I need you to watch your fucking mouth," the touch of his fingers on your arm nearly made you jump, his hand grazing up and over your shoulder. "I need you on your knees begging for my forgiveness," the pads of his fingers grazed your collarbone, and before you could even comprehend it, his large hand clasped around your throat, the other finding the small of your back as he pushed you up against the desk. "And then, I need you swallowing my fucking cum like the good little whore I know you are."

Without wasting a single second of time his plush lips attacked yours, his tongue delving past your teeth with a passionate urgency. You were painfully aware of Mattheo's manipulative tactics, understanding that he was using your vulnerability to his advantage, and the rational part of your mind screamed warnings at you, reminding you of the toxicity in his actions.

Yet, beneath the surface; as his hands roamed your curves, his tongue explored your mouth; an unsettling, exhilarating feeling lingered, a strange sort of affection for the very dominance that should have repelled you.

The awareness of his exploitation only intensified the rush, a twisted form of affection blossoming amidst the wrongness of it all. It was as if the knowledge of being used had become entangled with your desires, forming a paradoxical bond that you couldn't sever. In the midst of the moral turmoil, a dark, irresistible thrill coursed through your veins, leaving you helplessly drawn to the very thing you should have despised.

"You've been a very naughty girl, Raven..." his lips fell to your jawline, hands groping your curves, bunching the fabric of your uniform within his battered fists. "You've been swearing far too much...you were late...and now you want to act like you have power over me?" When he sunk his teeth into your earlobe, you yelped, flinching as he tightened his grip on your hips. "Don't get it twisted, princess...I hold the fucking power here...look at what I do to you..."

Your entire body was tingling, your fingers latching onto the fabric of his white button up dress shirt for dear fucking life.

"Mattheo-"

His lips fell lower, rough hands gripping your hips and shoving your ass back onto the desk behind you, parting your legs on either side of his strong body as he pulled you against him.

"This is what I do to good girls like you...I turn them into naughty little whores..." he purred, licking a flat line up the side of your throat, your lids involuntary fluttering shut at the breathtaking sensation. "...naughty little whores who take my cock and swallow my fucking cum."

His hands slid up your sides, taking the fabric of your skirt along with them, and you gasped as you felt it hike dangerously high up your thighs, trembling fingers tugging it back down to keep yourself covered.

Mattheo huffed, releasing the fabric. "You're not used to being bad though, are you, princess?"

His teeth sank into your collarbone, creating a tantalizing blend of pleasure and pain that sent shivers down your spine. Strands of his tousled hair caressed your cheek, the faintest whisper of a touch sending tingles across your skin. Your lips parted involuntarily, releasing a soft whimper, while Mattheo's response echoed in a deep, guttural groan that reverberated through the air, intensifying the charged atmosphere between you.

One hand gripped your jaw as he pulled back, meeting your eyes. "Answer me when I ask you a question."

Your breath hitched, flames roaring in your veins. "No, Mattheo...I'm not..."

"Mm," he purred, wetting his lips as he stared. "Do you know what happens to bad girls, Raven?"

Your stomach twisted as he tugged you closer by the hold on your jaw, his eyes darkening with desire as they darted across your face, seemingly examining your features as though they were precarious and new.

Your voice trembled. "No..."

"They get fucking punished."

Before you could respond, Mattheo shifted his hand, shoving two rough fingers between your teeth, reaching for the back of your throat and forcing a gag. Your eyes watered, beads of salty fluid threatening to spill down your cheeks, but he was unyielding, gripping the back of your neck with his other hand to force himself further down your throat--holding you in place while he did.

Your entire body was in flames, your thighs begging, fucking screaming in a need so disgustingly dirty you'd never experienced anything remotely close to it before.

Mattheo groaned, low in his chest, his dark eyes watching every single ministration of your face as you gagged on his fingers. The hand behind your head relented as he brought it to his crotch, palming the insistent bulge in his trousers as he watched you; seemingly not having blinked once.

"Unbutton your shirt," his voice was a hoarse whisper, laced with primal desire. He pushed his fingers deeper, clearing his throat. "Seal those filthy lips around my fingers, and unbutton your fucking shirt, princess..."

You cursed the fact that his body was separating your legs because all you wanted, more than anything on the face of the planet, was to squeeze your fucking thighs together--to give your cunt any sort of friction possible. Every word from his lips was doing inexplicable things to your body, and the need between your thighs was growing so insistent it was almost painful.

Following his commands, you sealed your lips around his fingers, swirling your tongue and bobbing your head painfully slowly as you teased him, trembling fingers moving to the buttons on your blouse and undoing them one by one until your chest was entirely exposed to him--your lungs stalled, pussy clenching as you watched his eyes darken with desire while they scanned your chest covered only by your navy laced bra, the hand on his crotch moving more insistently now.

"My fucking God, Raven," he breathed, jaw tensing so tight it looked painful. "I can't believe you've been keeping all of that hidden this whole time..."

You mewled involuntarily as he grazed your chest with his free hand, pushing his fingers deeper down your throat with enough intensity to make you cough as his demeanour switched and he palmed your breast with enough force to illicit an exasperated groan. He was possessed now, something swarming his pupils that made your entire body convulse with unfamiliar and unabashed need; you were almost certain there'd be a pool of your desire on the desk between your thighs at this point.

Without warning, he abruptly removed his hands from you. Your lips, parted in anticipation of a breath, yearned for air before his mouth enveloped yours once more. In a frenzy, his hands hurriedly reached for his belt, driven by an almost desperate urgency as you both inhaled sharply through your nostrils. Your lips meshed together in a way that seemed to consume each other, as if you could breathe in one another during the kiss.

Once he'd successfully freed himself, he pulled back, shoving his fingers back into your mouth and yanking you off the desk, his throbbing length pressing against your belly as he shoved himself against you; fingers forcing another gag from your chest, watching you with a primal fervour in his eyes so intense it was intoxicating.

Pulling his fingers from your mouth again, he cupped his hand out in front of you. "Spit."

Your brows furrowed in confusion, your brain buffering in attempt to process his words until his free hand shot into your hair, tilting your head until your lips were parallel to his palm.

"Spit, Raven," he repeated. "Spit into my fucking hand."

Your stomach contorted with a mix of disbelief and unfamiliar desire, your entire being thrown off balance. Each word that fell from his lips felt like a jolt, causing your heart to stutter in your chest. His eyes bored into you, searing your skin into flames, and without another moment's hesitation, you gathered the saliva he had coerced from you and spat it into his hand.

"Mm, that's it...good little whore..." He purred, bringing it down to his cock, rubbing it into his shaft as he stroked himself, eyes never once leaving yours. "Now, get on your knees for me, pretty girl."

Your breath caught in your throat. He, of all people, had just called you "pretty," and you were certain your ears were playing some sort of trick on you. It was a compliment you never expected from him, someone you had never imagined would see you in such a way. Pulling your lip between your teeth, you did as he said, squeezing your thighs together as you situated yourself in front of his feet.

Mattheo's hand remained in your hair, firmly gripping a fistful as he stroked himself. "Hands behind your back, Raven..." he muttered. "Let me see those delicious fucking tits of yours."

Your entire body shuddered, immediately clasping your hands together behind you without a second thought.

"That's it...fuck-" he was stroking himself faster, the veins in his hands tensing with every movement. You weren't sure who was enjoying this more, him or you. "You want this, princess? You want this cock in your dirty little mouth?"

Your throat was drier than the desert, each swallow a struggle against the arid emptiness within. Fingernails dug into your own flesh with a fierce intensity, the pressure threatening to break through the skin, mirroring the internal turmoil that gripped you. Holy fucking shit.

"Yes..." your voice was a pathetic whisper.

"Don't be so modest, Raven," he sneered, slowing his pace, twisting his wrist as he stroked his shaft, eyes never once leaving yours. "Beg for it."

Your stomach was in your throat. You'd never done anything like that before, you weren’t even really sure how. "I...um-please, Mattheo..."

His eyes fluttered shut for the briefest moment, a flicker of amusement dancing across his features before he locked eyes with you once more, his arrogance wrapping around the room like a suffocating cloak.

"Bloody hell, I said beg for it...does the prissy little princess not know how to fucking beg?" his voice was a hoarse growl, his vocal cords strained with lust. "Tell me how bad you want my cock, Raven, tell me how much you need it."

You couldn't believe your ears; the turn of events in your life felt utterly surreal. Never in your entire existence could you have imagined that this is where you'd find yourself right now--merely a few months away from graduation, on your knees for the most suffocatingly arrogant delinquent in the school who was making you beg to suck his fucking dick. A man who only last year wouldn't have paid you an ounce of mind, who probably didn’t even know you existed.

Your cheeks burned, but you fought through it, the arousal in your lungs fuelling your words. "Please, Mattheo...I want your cock so bad, I want you in my mouth, I want to choke on it, I want you to fuck my throat until you cum-"

His grip on your hair tightened, simultaneous with the grip on his cock as he cranked your head back, leaning down to meet your eyes; his lips hovering mere inches above yours.

"My God, you're a dirty fucking slut, aren't you?" He purred, smirking so wide it reached his eyes, his fingers bruising your scalp. "A dirty fucking slut whose sole purpose is to let me use her mouth whenever I want, yeah?"

You swallowed, wincing as he jerked your head back further, fucking into his fist faster, harder. "Yes, Mattheo..."

He sneered, clearly loving every fucking minute of this. "Imagine if anyone saw you like this...fuck-you're fucking filthy..." his voice was breathless, if you didn't know any better you'd think he was about to make himself cum before you had the chance to suck him off. "Apologize for being such a nasty little slut and I'll let you swallow my cum."

Your thighs clenched in need, your wetness seeping through your panties at this point. Gods, you wanted him so fucking bad you thought you were going to die.

"I'm sorry," you pleaded, eyes wide as you peered up at him, nearly-speechless. "I'm sorry for being a nasty little slut."

"That's right..." he purred, directing the head of his cock toward your mouth, groaning as your pressed your lips to it. "Good girl...fuck-so good for me..."

Your entire body was in flame, hands still clasped together behind your back as both of his thrust tightly through your hair, absentmindedly sealing your lips around his shaft, revelling in his skin's heat, dragging your tongue along the throbbing, pulsing underside. Riddle growled, bucking his hips, and you took him further into your mouth, gagging as his tip slammed the back of your throat.

"You take me so well, Raven..." he breathed, head falling back on his shoulders, eyes fluttering shut as his hands urged your head along his length. "Can't believe a mouth that annoying can feel this fucking good."

You groaned in assent, sucking hard at his cock as he slowly started to fuck your throat. You were both struggling to breathe, both losing control, both lost in an ocean of primal, urgent carnality. Pleasure was straining your seams, ready to explode inside of you, drool dribbling in globs from your chin, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as you tried to hold the boundaries of your sanity together.

"Mm, fuck..." Riddle's grip was crushing your skull. "I changed my mind…I'm gonna' cum on those perfect tits, princess..."

Your bones almost liquefied at this--but you steadied your knees, gagging as he started fucking into your throat faster, thrusting deep, your eyes disappearing into the back of your head as you allowed him to use your mouth as a helpless hole for him to fuck--singlehandedly loving every fucking second of it.

"Shit-" he groaned, eyes squeezed shut. "Fuck."

Your thighs clenched, brain fogged by a hurricane of lust, but when he pulled out, abruptly, your cognition returned--your vision clearing to an image of Riddle, red-faced, fucking his fist. Snarling, he jerked your hair, and choked on his moan, the sound stuttering while he shot the hot loads of his cum onto your chest and neck. He sucked down air in long, heavy breaths, waiting until the end of his release had dissipated, and then dropped you, stepping back to marvel at his masterpiece. You swore steam was wafting off your skin.

"Beautiful," he murmured. He pieced himself back together, buckling his belt. "Tell me how I taste."

Every inch of you tingled, chest heaving, jaw slack in an open pant. Keeping his stare, you brought a trembling hand to your chest, swiping his sticky cum off your tits and trailing it past your lips, slowly sucking it off your first two fingers. The taste melding with the mere prospect of what was happening elicited a low moan from your chest, and you shuddered, trapped in his gaze until you were finished.

"Salty." You teased, smirking up at him.

"Salty, huh?” He huffed, a devious grin on his face as he helped you up to your feet, rough palm grasping your forearm. "Important mineral for a balanced meal, yeah?"

You chuckled, heat swarming your skin as you stammered up to your feet, meeting his darkened eyes as you began buttoning up your shirt, taking in his newly flushed features--curly brown hair slightly sticking to his forehead before he ran a battered hand through it, brushing it back.

“Smartass,” you grumbled, turning toward the desk. “Next week we have an exam, so there won’t be a tutor session, you know that right?”

He released a breath, throwing himself into the usual creaky wooden chair beside yours. “Guess that just means you’ll have to do that again before the nights’ over,” he said. “You know, to compensate for next week.”

You rolled your eyes, failing to hide your smirk. “In your dreams, Riddle.”

“Oh, definitely not, princess.” He breathed, glimpsing you briefly. “In my dreams you do a hell of a lot more than that.”

——————

Chapter four->

[xervn]

like a french girl 🎨

part 1 - paint me | part 2 | art major ellie x dance major reader | ellie photo

ao3 link

summary: ellie had been struggling with finding the perfect model for her art final. that was until she saw you.

18+ MDNI | 2.2k words | tags; college au, pining, only a little explicit, no use of y/n, not proofread

disclaimer: not an art or dance major, don't shoot!

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Scribble, scratch, throw. This has been Ellie’s routine since she moved onto campus.

Why? Her professor told her that she draws the human body like it’s lifeless. Ranting about how they’re too one-dimensional and have no depth, her lines are too sharp or not sharp enough; flat and boring in looks and in feeling. 

Now listen, Ellie has nothing against criticism. She respects her professor and she’s aware that her drawings lack “vitality”. It’s been something she’s struggled with for a while now, an effect of some recent events and overall adjusting to college life. 

Ellie isn’t unable to grasp the anatomy of the body, in fact it’s the opposite. She knows the human body is complex and needs thorough observation. The way the sun hits the skin, the hairs on a knuckle, the creases of a smile. Wide, small, big, tall; no two bodies are exactly the same. 

Really, the imagery is so clear to her, but she finds it impossible to transfer the life and motion of the body onto a piece of paper without truly understanding the person. The way she sees it, every body has a story, and in order to make a good piece she needs to know that story.

Since art school is filled to the brim with inspiring, exciting, and vibrant people, she has, of course, tried to talk with them. She attempted to get to know the models, ask them general questions and hope something clicks. Unfortunately, that has yet to happen. She can’t really ask her friends either without it getting awkward. Imagine, “ Oh, hey guys! Can you guys get naked and pose in one spot for my homework?”   Hear how weird that sounds? Even though she’s sure Jesse would definitely be down, she values her eyes.

 Any “muse” she could possibly ever want was right in front of her, so why was it really impossible for her to find one?

 Well, because Ellie didn’t find anyone interesting enough. She’s not shallow or anything, it has nothing to do with how the model looked, Ellie has had several good-looking models. It was more about how she perceived them. It’s just that she hasn’t seen a model that made her ask questions like: “ How’d they get that scar?”  “ What does that tattoo mean?” Stuff like that.

The last interesting model she had was probably a fucking homeless guy she shared a blunt with outside a gas station many moons ago. Till this day, he might be one of her best pieces. There’s not a lot of moments like that here.

Nonetheless, Ellie saw this developing– extremely lame— personal requirement of hers annoying as shit. It’s holding her back big time, but she couldn’t help it even if she really wanted to.

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It’s practically useless to keep trying. The tiny voice in Ellie's head presses her to keep going, keep failing, but enough is enough. She is seriously burnt out and any more of this might kill her. The only thing that could help right now is a meaty slice of pizza and a blunt as soon as she thought of it.

Ellie clears out her desk, knocking the stack of crumpled paper into a conveniently placed trash can; a placement made from her constant trials and errors. She pushes up, and stretches widely, obnoxiously groaning like an old man by the end of it. She quickly tidied herself up, tying up half of her hair into a ponytail and throwing on a dark-green flannel shirt she had to sniff before wearing over her plain white tee. She takes a quick look into her floor-length mirror, making sure she looks presentable before grabbing what she needs to head out.

Just as her hand reached for the silver knob, Ellie felt this overwhelming urge to look back. God, she knows what she is going to look back at, but she really hopes she doesn’t. Unfortunately, her eyes land on her sketchbook, laid flat on the desk underneath a lamp’s warm light. She shouldn’t.

She needs a break. She knows she needs a break, but there is a twinge of hope, faith, lodged somewhere inside her. The same faith that’s kept her from dropping out every day for the past four months. Ellie groans as she drags her feet to her desk where she whisks up the brown book and shoves it in her tote bag with an accompanying pencil. She swivels back to the door and strolls out, silently praying her mood improves in the next hour.

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The cafeteria was surprisingly crowded, but Ellie managed to get her pizza without saying ‘fuck it’ to the line. Still, the thought of eating between this buzzing mess when she was in such a shitty mood turned her off. Thankfully, she knew that everyone would be everywhere but the upstairs balcony, especially during this chilly time of year. No sane person would eat out there, and she’s not particularly sane. Ellie saunters off to the balcony and sits herself at a small table facing the view.

It only took a glance around before she came to the realization that the view is not really a view. There’s only a dorm a few feet away, directly across. It’s a large brick-laid, generic building with wide windows. If it weren’t for the blinds, the view into a room would probably be good enough to read a label on something. Ellie’s freckled face grimaces at the thought, imagining what it’d be like if someone watched her rage as she messed up her homework over and over from this distance. Despite that, she thought it’d probably be a pretty good spot to live in. It’s close to the cafeteria and probably a lot bigger than her 1x1 dorm.

With a twinge of curiosity piquing her mind, Ellie glimpses over the windows, and for the most part, they are all closed.

All closed, but yours.

Yours doesn’t even have blinds. You’re on the 3rd floor and almost completely unobscured in a black camisole, sitting on your questionably roomy windowsill with a leg perched up. Ellie can see the fairy lights strung up in your bedroom, and a line of succulents closer to the window; ordered by size, which she briefly thought was cute. 

You aren’t facing the window, so she can only see your back. What she could see, though, is you doing your hair, occasionally swaying to what she can only imagine is music. Your room is high, but low enough for her to identify you if she had the pleasure of knowing you. Knowing you, reverberates in her head. Does she know you? Has she met you before? Amongst that babble, there is one more question she is slowly trying to gather an answer to. 

Time passes, most definitely shorter than Ellie would have thought passed. Her eyes have been glued on you the whole time, she even forgot about her, now freezing cold, pizza just so she could gawk at you. She still hasn’t seen your face yet, barely even a glimpse, but she already thinks you are stupidly beautiful just by the way you move.

From the graciousness of your movements alone, she thought there was no way in hell you didn’t know she was watching. At some point, your arms got tired, so you smoothly rolled your aching shoulders back; stretching into an arched, effortlessly perfect posture. Ellie’s eyes traced that slight curve of your back as if you’d disappear if she broke off from you.

There is no way it gets better from that, is what she thinks to herself, only to be shut up immediately after when she sees that perfectness of your back stay as you bend over and shift onto both knees to grab something far away, bringing your shorts in view. So short— so tight , they could easily be mistaken for panties. 

It was unexpected to say the least, Ellie could feel her face heating up and had to look around her to see if anyone else could see what she was seeing right now. Ellie wondered about the practicality of those shorts, wondered what exactly they were supposed to cover, leering at the plush of your ass peeking out. She thoughtlessly lets her jaw drop before muttering out a low, impressed, and barely over a whisper, “Well, fuck.”

You must’ve noticed your shorts riding up, since you quickly pulled them down after you grabbed what you wanted. Ellie clears her throat, internally scolding herself for being so gross— so perverted. Her brows furrow in embarrassment from all the dirty thoughts she brewed up in that moment. But for some reason, she still doesn’t look away. Well, there’s a list of reasons for her to look away, but she feels like ignoring it. 

Then a cold gust of wind bites past her face, clearly a sign from the universe that she should snap out of it, and snap out of it she does. 

What the hell happened to her? What is it about you that she keeps leaning into? Suddenly something clicks in her brain. After months of creative agony, something finally clicked. She has sat here completely fascinated by you and she couldn’t tell sooner?

In all honesty, to say she is just “interested” in you would be an understatement. Yeah, now she thinks you’re the perfect model for her final, but she wants to know you beyond just the drawing. A plus is that you just happened to be hot, and Ellie has never been attracted to a subject before, so the whole thing was new and exciting to her. Just the thought of drawing you made her remember why she loved art so much.  Ellie reaches for her tote bag sitting in an empty seat beside her, pulling out her sketchbook with more enthusiasm than she probably ever has. She sets the book down, opening up a blank page with one hand and tightening her grip on her pencil in the other.

She looks back up at your window, ready to sketch your life onto paper and..  Shit. You’re looking back.

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Today has been a good day for you, your teacher chose  you to teach the choreo you’ve been working on for weeks to your classmates. It was an obvious ego booster for you. You felt good and you wanted to look good too, even if you weren’t going out anywhere. It was just one of those nights. You wanted to experiment with your hair, thinking maybe you’ll do something new before your next practice. Dye it, cut it.. something.

It’s been a while since you started, and after several wrist and shoulder cramps, you were finally finished. You take a look into your hand mirror, peering at your reflection. You’re satisfied now, looking exactly how you’re feeling if you minus the dingy sleep clothes you’re in. 

♫ My heart, I never be, I never see, I never know. ♫

Grimes? Really? You pout, upset that your playlist didn’t magically read your mood. What you need is real 2000’s hot girl music. Britney Spears, Nelly Furtado, or Beyoncé for crying out loud.

“Alexa, skip!” You shout across the room, just loud enough for the device to hear. 

The stupid thing doesn’t even light up, so you call out a few more times but to no avail. Isn’t the whole point of that thing to be voice automated? You sigh and look around for your phone, and seeing it’s nowhere in front of you, you figure it’s behind. You twist your torso to find your phone behind you and luckily you do. As you pick it up, you casually glance out the window without any expectations. 

Did you see a figure in the blur as you looked away? You question your eyes, but you decide to take another look and just find out for yourself.

You peer back down and your eyes meet with someone else’s. The sudden eye contact between you and this woman instantly mortified you. Your heart sunk, and all you could do was raise your brows stupidly. She was surprised too, even in the dim light you could see her shocked expression boring back at you. Not only that, it went on for way longer than it should have. Any normal person would’ve looked away, but her eyes lingered on you before she hastily turned away. 

You’ve been sitting here, dressing up your hair, listening to your music without a care in the world. Far too absorbed in yourself to realize there’s someone outside your window. You slide off your windowsill and out of sight. Just as your bottom finally hits the wood floor, you feel the coldness of it against your skin and you’re immediately conscious of the fact that your ass was literally out at some point. 

The poor girl was trying to eat her food and you were bending over in front of your window like a harlot. It certainly didn’t help that she looked kinda hot. Did she? You peeked over your windowsill, hoping to get another look to really assess her hotness, but she was already gone. Whatever, maybe she didn’t see? But she looked embarrassed… embarrassed for you probably!

You hide your face in your hands and topple to the side, letting out a fake sob. Oh, god. You can already imagine Dina’s face when you tell her. You couldn’t help but burst out laughing at that thought. That was humiliating as shit, but it’s whatever. It’s not like you’ll see her again. 

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

side note: if you have any tropes you'd like to see w/ this universe pls do drop an ask 🤭

click 4 more!

[aticklishpercivalwriter]

A Teasy Time~

For Artists Who See Their Art on My Fics Link to Artworks: Sethos pinned against a wall by Scara (@akushixa), Scara being illegally hawt (@yi_xin9943), Scara looking at you like you’re his prey (@kiyonvmi), Sethos hiding or flustered beyond belief (@mimilims)

Summary: Teasy Scara and making Sethos suffer :)

A/N: Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! Hope you all are doing well! Here’s the long-awaited teasy fic! The SFW version! Probably the only spicy thing is the kissing like in My Honey ♡ My Bee :) The N$FW version will be released when it is finished so if you were waiting for it, I’m so sorry that you have to wait a bit more 😓. Though, I hope you all enjoy this gift! It never gets old writing for these two :) Anyway, hope you all enjoy this fic, and thank you for a great year ❤️! PS, couldn’t decide which artworks to use so have you have two versions. Wanted artworks that really reflect what Scara looks like when looking at Sethos and how Sethos feels. The meme one of Sethos was too hard to pass up to not include :P Definitely need more flustered Sethos art.

Word Count: 3290 Also on AO3!

—

The sun is rising over the horizon of the Sumeru forest, its light filtering in through the window blinds of Wanderer’s and Sethos’s bedroom. The streaks of light casting a warm glow on the cuddling duo. Scaramouche was the first to awake, eyes fluttering open and propping himself on his shoulder. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and looked towards his lover, his breath catching in his throat.

“Fuck, he is beautiful.”

They both were only in their underwear after a night of making love to one another. He traced his skin and blushed as the memories came rushing back. He shook his head getting back in the moment. There will be time to do it again later. For now, he admired his boyfriend. He really looked divine and a gift from the gods. The tan skin glowing in the light and highlighting the muscles from years of training. The slow rise and fall of his broad chest as he breathed. His hair down as it partially covered his face and pooled into curly waves behind him. And finally, the hickeys that decorated his figure. The marks meaning that he is his. He drank in the sight, planting soft kisses all over him.

“I’m glad I have you in my life, my little bee,” he whispers. “I love you…more than you could ever know.”

After a few minutes of affection, he got off the bed and stood up, stretching and taking a look at himself in their full-body mirror.

“Shit, he really marked me up too.”

His body was littered with hickeys, mostly on his neck and shoulders while a few were on his chest and thighs.

“I guess that talkative mouth of his can be useful for something,” he chuckled, skimming his fingers over the marks.

He is really relieved that they sent Durin to be with Aether and the others for a few days because he definitely didn’t want their innocent dragon to see or hear what they were doing and are going to do again later. He has no idea how he would explain what he is seeing right now to their little dragon.

“This is going to be a pain in the ass to hide,” he sighed, walking over to their dresser and rummaging through the drawers to find a scarf or something to hide the ones on his shoulders and neck.

“Not here. How about—”

"Aah! It's a monster!”

He yelped in surprise, immediately pulling his hand out of the drawer as strong arms from behind wrapped around him and he felt a kiss on his nape.

“Did I get ya?~” Sethos teased.

“You got five seconds. One-”

“Wait, wha—”

“You heard me. You can’t please your way out of this one. Three-”

Sethos immediately let him go, bolting out of their bedroom using his electro powers and into their living room. Adrenaline rushed through him as his honey’s voice resonated throughout the house.

“Fourrrr~ Five!”

Scara sped off after him not activating his anemo powers just yet. He’ll pounce on his prey quietly after he is done toying with him.

“Oh Sethhh~ Come on out~”

He had a Cheshire smirk on his face as he purposely took heavy footsteps and started tapping his nails on the walls and any hard surface he could find. He wanted him to know he was coming for him.

And Sethos, who was crouching behind a couch, bit his lip as the sound echoed from the hall to his ears. He felt his face heat up and the pounding of his heart in his ears was deafening. Damn Scara for knowing how to get his skin tingling.

“You know what I’m going to do to you when I get my hands on you?” Scara asks, stepping into the living room and searching. “I’m going to stroke my fingers slooowly down that sensitive back of yours while I whisper those teases you love in your ears and plant little kisses on your neck.”

Sethos who managed to crawl around a corner and start backtracking to the bedroom as quietly as possible, almost collapsed upon hearing those words. He was biting back a grin as he rubbed the goosebumps that were forming on his skin. His mind was going a million miles a minute with scenarios and fuck, Scara knows how to rile him up.

He finally made it to the bedroom, his honey’s teasing muffled by the walls as he hid on the side of the bed away from the door. His escape route was to jump over the bed and out the door once Scara entered and shutting it on him. That should buy him some time he thinks.

Wait, why is it so quiet?

Focusing on his surroundings, it was deathly silent. No tapping. No verbal teases. No muffled noises. Absolute silence. He was starting to get a bad feeling about this.

Click!

Oh shit.

His eyes widened in horror upon hearing the door close and lock. But he still can’t hear anything, not even footsteps. He has no idea where Scara was in the room or if he was even in the room at all.

Should I chance a look?

After much debate, he decided to peek around the corner of the bed but didn’t see anything besides the closed door and the rest of the room looked untouched from where he was looking.

Does that mean he’s waiting out—

“It’s the tickle monster~”

“AAAHHHH!”

Sethos screamed as he felt arms, which were definitely his lover’s, lift him from behind and throw him onto the bed. He frantically struggled trying to get off the bed only to tangle himself up in the blankets. Scara took the opportunity to turn him onto his back, sitting on his waist and pinning his arms above his head.

“So, my bee. Thought you could get away with scaring me like that, hmm?”

He leaned down towards Sethos, giving him a devilish smirk while Sethos just gulped in return, too stunned to speak.

“Cat got your tongue, love?” Scara teased, trailing his fingers down Sethos’s exposed armpit.

“Hehehe, nohohoho!” Sethos giggled, bringing him out of his shock.

“So, you thought it was a good idea to scare me, huh?”

“Yeah? AHahaHAHA! Dohohohon’t!”

Sethos laughed, feeling Scara scribble against his sides.

“Remember, you brought this upon yourself~”

“Wha— oof!”

Scara let go of his arms, flipping him onto his chest and sitting on his waist once again. He started stroking his fingers along the bare skin of his lover’s back, making him jerk in his hold before giggling.

“Nohohohoho! Nohohohot thihihis!”

“Oh yeah, you’re right.”

Sethos felt a spark of hope only for it to be put out when he felt hands move his hair away and lips on the side of his neck.

“I forgot this,” Scara smirked, blowing a raspberry.

“GahaHAHahaHA!”

“And also, this.”

Before Sethos could ask him what else, he felt his voice right against his ear, sending tingles down his spine.

“You’re so ticklish it’s adorable.”

“Nohohoho!”

“You don’t think you are adorable? Well, you are with how you giggle like that and squirm around. You are making me want to tickle you forever~”

“Bahahabe! Stahahap teheheasing mehehe!”

What have I awakened in you, Scara?

“I don’t think I will. This is your punishment after all. Besides, I’m just getting started~”

Now he started scratching and Sethos let out a surprised yelp before falling into a symphony of laughter and giggles.

“You make quite the music for my ears~”

“NAHahahAHA!” Sethos laughed, shaking his head. “STAhaHAhap! TihihIHIHIckling MEHEheheHE!”

“Stop?” Scara leaned towards his ear, brushing his lips against his earlobe. “Why would I stop? You're clearly loving this with that smile on your face~”

Scara chuckled. He chuckled. The sound reverberated in his mind and left a pleasant tingling sensation in its wake. His love knows what he is doing to him. He knows it's driving him insane. And he definitely knows he loves it. It is so unfair how his honey knows how to turn him into mush. He whined in protest, crawling off the bed trying to escape his lover's clutches and flustering teases.

“Where do you think you’re going?~”

Before he knew what was happening, Scara pulled him back, squeezing his sides and making him squeal.

“I wasn’t done with you, naughty bee~”

“Wait! I-I’m sorry! It’s- HAHAHAHA! SCAHAHARAHAHA!”

He felt nibbles on his back making him let out a guffaw of laughter.

“You're sooo cute when you know you're in trouble,” Scara teased, leaving a trail of kisses and nibbles.

Grabbing a pillow, Sethos hid his face in it, muffling his laughs along with the blush from his honey’s flustering teases.

“My poor bee, it tickles so bad, doesn't it?”

Sethos pounded his fist against the bed in response, lost in his own laughter as his words got to him.

“Oh, I know, I know. It's okay,” his lover cooed. “It won't end anytime soon~”

Sethos’s reaction was priceless as his laughter got more desperate upon hearing those words and he scrunched up his shoulders, shaking his head in ticklish mirth and hair flailing in every direction.

Scara smirked, an evil grin on his face as he began blowing raspberries and leaving ticklish licks on Sethos’s back.

“NAHAHAHAHA! SCAHAHAHARA! I’M GOHOHOING TO DIEHEHEHE!”

Sethos was now blindly whacking the pillow against Scara trying to fight back.

“What are you trying to do?”

Scara giggled at his antics, throwing the offending pillow away and tickling his exposed armpit.

“NOHOHOHO! MY WEHEAPON! TAHAHAKE THIHIS!”

Sethos managed to somehow squeeze Scara’s side making him bark out a laugh but as quick as it happened, Scara turned him back onto his back, a playful glare in his eyes.

“You made a mistake my bee. You really thought you could tickle me back?”

Sethos widened his eyes, panicking as he frantically crawled backwards. Scara took his time, slowly inching closer and closer to him with that signature smirk of his.

“Waitwaitwahahait! Plehease! I'm sohorry!”

“Giggling already? I’m not even touching you.”

Ignoring his lover’s protests, he grabbed Sethos’s scarf from the bedside table, tying up his arms before leaning down towards his ear, playfully nipping at it before whispering.

“Suffer~”

Sethos exploded into laughter, pulling at his arms in vain as Scara drilled into his armpits.

“NOHOHOHO! HOHOHONEHEHEY! I-I’M SOHOHORRYEHEHE! DOHOHON’T DOHOHO THIHI- HAHAHA!”

His lover didn’t bother to hear the rest, crawling a hand behind his back and scribbling.

“BWAHAHAHAHA! M-MOCHIHIHIHI!”

He twisted onto his side before falling back and legs kicking out in response to the overwhelming sensations racking through his body.

“Aw, that’s cute. Calling me nicknames again. That’s not going to save you, my love~”

“PLEHEHEASE! I’M SOHORRY! I’M SAHAHAHARWY! PLE- NAHAHAHA!”

“How you melt like honey right beneath me. Maybe I should start calling you honey now instead~”

“I only get to call you— Mmphehe!”

He was cut off by his own giggle when he felt fingers scribble along his side.

“Heh, you were saying?”

“You're mean, so mehehean.”

“Mean, huh?” Scara chuckled, making Sethos gulp.

“I'll show you what mean is~”

Rolling Sethos over, Scara straddled his hips and went all in on his back, not leaving any spot untouched. And Sethos exploded with laughter.

“MMPHAHAHA! SCAHAHARAHA! NOHOHOHO!”

If Sethos could pound the bed, he certainly would as each scribble along his back was sending ticklish shocks throughout him.

“Tickle tickle tickle~”

“STAHAHAHAP TEHEHEASING MEHEHEHE!”

“Mmm, no~”

Tears of mirth started leaking from his eyes as the tickling continued. Scara was merciless as he whispered coochie-coos and tickle tickles making Sethos scrunch up his shoulders and alternating from scribbling to clawing and everything in between making him kick his legs out and laugh boisterously.

“BWAHAHAHAHA! SCAHA- AHAHAHA! PLEHEHEHEASE!”

“Can’t handle a little tickling?~” Scara teased, slowing down and finally taking mercy on his lover before turning him over for a kiss.

“Hah, hah. You call that little?! I’m exhausted!”

“You need to build up your stamina more, my bee~” Scara snickered, kissing him again.

“Hey, I thought this was a punishment?” Sethos joked, playfully nipping at his lips. “Can’t get enough of me, can’t you~”

“You didn’t just say that.”

“What if I did?~”

“Such a naughty bee you are.”

“Only for you~ Hahahaha! Wahahait! Nohoho!”

“Just because you said that, no more kisses for you.”

“I’m sohohorry! I dihihidn’t mean it! ACK! NOHOHOT THEHEHERE!”

“Mmm, sucks to be you~”

“You’re mehehean!”

“And just for that, no more cuddles.”

“Nohow thAHAHAT’S EHEHEVIL!”

“You should’ve been nice in the first place.”

“GAHAHAHA! SAHAHAY’S YOUHUHU!”

“Are you just trying to be a brat today?”

“HAHAHAHAHA!”

“Not talking anymore huh? Two can play that game.”

Scara stopped, untying Sethos’s arms and just laying across from him, a smirk on his face.

“Wait, w-why did you stop?”

“Tell me what you want,” Scara said, ignoring his question and hovering his fingers right over Sethos’s sensitive skin.

“What!? N-No! You— You can't do that!”

Sethos's eyes were wide as saucers, and he looked pleadingly at him.

“Can't do what?”

Scara looked at him innocently, but his grin betrayed his true intentions.

Now this, Sethos was not ready for.

“I take it back! Wan, Scara, my honey! Mochi-Mouche! Don’t do this!”

Sethos was biting his lip and clenching his hands. His lover’s fingers were right there! The anticipation was seriously driving him up the wall.

Please! Scaraaa!

“What? This?”

Scara wiggled his fingers at him, and he whined, shaking his head.

“Aww, that’s a cute reaction,” Scara cooed, pulling away and grabbing a couple nearby pillows before lifting his hips and placing them underneath.

“W-What are you doing?”

With his hips lifted up, his back was completely exposed and he never felt so vulnerable.

“Just this~”

With a devious smile, Scara slid his hand behind Sethos’s back. He hovered his fingers right below the skin, moving his fingers in a fanning motion making Sethos jump as he felt wisps of air against his skin.

Sethos groaned internally.

This is worse! I can’t even see his fingers! On top of that, I can’t even lower my back because of those stupid pillo— !!!

Scara suddenly placed his chin on Sethos’s thigh, a Cheshire grin on his face as he took an interest in placing kisses along his inner thigh.

“Nononono, Scara! Please! Just do it! Stop teasing me!”

Sethos was losing his mind as he hid his face in his hands.

“Use your words~ Just tell me what you want.”

“I can’t!”

“You can’t? Well, guess I have to keep doing this~”

Scara actually made contact with Sethos’s back making him gasp in surprise. Before he could say anything, his honey started slowly gliding his fingers back and forth making him giggle in delight.

Heh, I don’t have to ask him.

“You remember what I said before?” Scara asked, breaking him out of his thoughts. “’I’ll slowly stroke my fingers along your back.’ That’s what I’m going to do and keep doing until you tell me what you want.”

Wait, what? WHATTT!? Nonono. Okay, deep breaths Seth. This is fine. This is fineee. Just last long enough and he’ll eventually want to full-on tickle you, right? Right?!

Scara could see the flickering of emotions on his face and he inwardly grinned.

Gotcha, my bee~

He suddenly scribbled his fingers along Sethos’s back making him shriek in surprise before going back to slow strokes.

“HAHAHAhahahah!?”

His laughter teetered off into confusion when he felt those same agonizingly slow fingers along his skin.

What was that for? Wa— !!!

“AHAHAHAhahaha??”

It happened again and he looked at Scara who only raised his eyebrows at him before planting another soft kiss on his thighs. However, there was also a tiny mischievous grin that anyone would have missed unless they were his lover, like him. The realization hit Sethos like a truck.

Oh no. Oh nononono. This is bad. This baddd. Das not good. Ha, get it? Cyno! Get your jokes out of my head!! Ugh, Archons, I am going crazy and definitely done for.

Sethos chanced another look at Scara and the latter shot him a sly smile before kissing and snuggling into him.

HOW CAN HE BE CUTE AND EVIL AT THE SAME TIME!?!?!?!

Sethos took a shaky breath, little giggles mixing in before he started speaking.

“Pleasetickleme.”

“Hmm?~”

Scara, I swear.

“Tickle me, please.”

“I can’t hear you~”

Oh, fuck you.

“Honey, just please tickle me.”

“Can you—”

“SCARA! TICKLE ME PLEASE! I’M BEGGING YOU!”

“Hehehe, you could’ve just asked~”

Without any hesitation, Scara dug into every ticklish nook and cranny and Sethos let out the most hilarious sigh that Scara had heard from him.

“AhhAHAHA! FIHIHINAHALLY! HAHAHAHA!”

“You really like this huh?”

“OF COURSEHE I DOHOHO! WAIT! BWAHAHAHA! THAHAT TIHIHICKLES!”

“Of course it does, silly bee~”

“BUT IHIHIT TIHIHICKLES SOHOHO BAHAHAD!”

“But you like it, right?”

“AHAHAHAHA!”

“Thought so~”

So, they spent the rest of the morning in bed with Scara tickling his little bee just how he likes it and the latter loving every second of it. Little raspberries along his back, scribbles along his sides, vibrating fingers on his armpits. The list goes on and on. And Scara was blessed with his lovely laughter.

“You had your fill yet, my love?” Scara asked, slowing down when Sethos fell into silent laughter.

“Y-Yeahaha. I thihink sohoho.”

Sethos shot him a giggly smile and it was Scara’s turn to have his heart melt.

“God, you are so cute, Seth.”

“Ehehe, right back at you, Wan.”

Scara sprawled over Sethos, wrapping his arms around him and peppering him with kisses wherever he could reach. He doesn’t bother to massage the ghostly tickles away because he knows Sethos likes the feeling which Scara finds very endearing.

“You’re in your mushy moods again, huh?” Sethos teased.

“Shut up,” Scara laughed, shushing him with a kiss on the lips.

They both melted into the kiss, closing their eyes and enjoying the softness of it.

“Mmph~ Y’know— ahh~ I can’t— Mmphaah~ Get enough of— haah~ You— Aah!”

“Mmm, you talk too much.”

Scara playfully bit his lips causing him to part his lips to let out a moan and he took the opportunity to dive in and suck his tongue. A once soft and sensual kiss now turned into a fiery passion.

Sethos was losing the battle for dominance as he fell apart, his fate sealed when Scara sucked his tongue. Though, he couldn't care less. Drowning in Scara is the best feeling in the world.

“Seth— Mmm~”

“Hnnn— Scaraaa~”

Scara tangled his fingers in Sethos’s hair, pulling at it. Not to cause any pain but to earn a low moan from the other. Sethos wrapped his arms around him, bringing them impossibly closer. However, his fingers accidentally grazed a ticklish trail on his skin drawing a giggle out of him, forcing them to break apart.

“Hah, hah. Ticklish?” Sethos can't help but tease.

“Hah, aah. Not as bad as you~” he shot back.

They stared at each other for a beat their breaths mingling before they started giggling and then full-on laughing until they trickled back into a peaceful silence.

“I'm so in love with you,” Sethos laughed, kissing his forehead.

“I'm so in love with you too,” Scara sighed happily, resting his head against Sethos’s chest and listening to his heartbeat.

“Good night, my bee,” he murmured after a few moments.

“You do know the sun is out, right?”

“Don't make me shut that mouth of yours again.”

“I wouldn't mind if you did it again, honey~” Sethos teased, wiggling his eyebrows.

“You are insatiable,” Scara laughed, shaking his head.

“But you love me~”

“Of course I love you. Now come over here you needy bee.”

“I was hoping you would say that~”

—

Thank you for reading! Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays again! :) Hope the wait was worth it ;) -Perz ~Risus Amoris~

[artdcnaldson]

medical MALPRACTICE 💜

theater kid conversation and gyno art conversation got me thinking about dr pommader from waitress…. aaurrr art, your pretty gynecologist, who you try your best not to look at too much during appointments bc you’re afraid you’ll get wet and he’ll obviously be able to see…

you’ve been seeing him more recently bc you and your bum ass husband are trying for a baby, but nothing is happening. your husband is convinced it’s your fault, so you go to dr. donaldson (art, as he insists you call him) to run some fertility tests. when you tell him what’s going on you swear you can see his eye twitch when you mention your husband blaming you. the exam is…… charged. he takes extra care with you, his gloved fingers gentle but firm, definitely lingering longer than they need to as he talks you through what he’s doing. he’s always been so easy going and he still is, but there’s an authoritative edge to his voice as he massages your gummy walls to “relax the tissue” so he can take samples for the tests. he asks you exactly what you’ve been doing to try for a baby… asks you describe positions that you’ve been trying… you blush and tell him it’s nothing but missionary in the dark for you and your husband. you see that little eye twitch again. he tells you that some positions are more optimal for it to take, offers to show you how to get into them. you end up on his table with him bending and stretching you into different positions, one with your chest down and your ass up with your thighs squeezed together, another on your back with one of your legs hiked over his shoulder. he maintains that he’s just demonstrating for you, but you’re both throbbing with need under your clothes. you can feel how hard he is in his scrubs, but you don’t mind even a little bit. you wish he’d fuck you right here on this table and he’s thinking the same exact thing.

you leave dazed and more horny than you think you’ve ever felt in your life. and if he schedules your follow up for after all his nurses and receptionists leave so it’s just you and him when he tells you you’re more than fertile and your husband is the problem… that’s nobody’s business but yours and his <33

MOANED AND DIED

God... you show up to the follow-up wearing a pretty little sundress (because it's easy to take on and off for any exams, of course! no other reason). You wear your hair really nice, do your makeup, leave your wedding ring in your car.

You always knew it was going to be your husband that was the problem. The news doesn't shock you as much as it makes the resentment that was building in the pit of your stomach boil over. Fuck your husband. Fuck your unhappy marriage. Fuck his insistence that a baby could fix something that neither of you really even wanted anymore.

"I do have another... I guess, like, problem," you say suddenly, before the 'appointment' ends and you have to go home to the shitty deadbeat waiting for you.

Art nods, brows furrowed in concern. He's a good doctor, he really is, even if he's definitely passed the threshold of a normal doctor/patient relationship.

"I just... I'm having trouble getting wet, when I'm with my husband." You worry your bottom lip between your teeth and let your words sink in. "Just... maybe you can just check and make sure nothing's wrong with me?"

That's how you wind up back on the table, feet in stirrups, gloved hands sliding your panties down your thighs. You shiver in the cold of examination room, goosebumps pebbling your flesh.

"Can I touch you?" He asks. His voice is barely above a whisper, gravelly with need, but it's so loud in the quiet of the close space.

"Yeah." The words escape you on an exhale, and you see the ghost of a smile on his lips as he moves his hands higher. You gasp as his gloved hand moves along the seam of your pussy, tracing the seam of you from your entrance to your clit.

His free hand rubs along your thigh— comforting, soothing. When you relax your thighs, he smiles. "There we go," he practically coos. "Just relax for me. I just need to check something."

His thumb rubs over your clit and you gasp. It wasn't a lie when you said you couldn't get wet for your husband, but with Art? It was fucking easy. You feel your body responding in earnest, cunt pulsing with need, dripping for him.

"See? You're perfect," his fingers tease over your entrance, collecting the arousal that pools there. "Your body works just like it needs to, for the right person."

[ghostgirl-22]

what was patrick’s reaction to seeing art in his skimpy briefs for the first time? 👀 he’s only ever seen him in baggy boxers so how do you think he’d react seeing art’s thighs and ass in those panties?

Oh he definitely went crazy…

CW: 18+ !NSFW!

—-

Patrick’s sneaking into their hotel room because he woke up to a message on his phone saying: come now Lily’s still sleeping. Luckily enough he was hard when he woke up. Well that wasn’t so much luck as it was a day ending in y.

Tashi smiles at him, easing her panties back on as he walks in. It’s all she’s wearing, black lace panties and she pulls a grey t-shirt over her head.

“Wait, no…you guys couldn’t wait for me,” Patrick says exasperated, tugging at her t-shirt and pulling her close to him.

Arts lying on his side, slightly flushed under the blankets staring at them.

“We texted you 20 minutes ago,” Tashi says.

“I just woke up. First thing I did was brush my teeth and come over.” Patrick looks her over, she’s glowing. Beauty that takes his breath away especially when she’s this close, full lips that look so soft and her doe eyes gazing at him. He kisses her, he can’t help himself and as her lips part for him, he eases his tongue inside. She pulls back curling her manicured fingers into his hair.

“Give me a minute I’ll be right back and then we can— you know,” she says.

“Where are you going?”

“My mom called, I’m gonna take Lily over there and then I’ll be back.”

Patrick glances back at Art, he’s still laying there, chewing his bottom lip.

“I should’ve slept in here, no text was gonna wake me up after that fucking grueling match.” He grumbles.

“It’s too confusing,” Tashi sighs. “We introduced you as Uncle Patrick. And her other uncles don’t sleep with mommy and daddy.”

Patrick grins. He knows it’s not appropriate but he loves when they refer to themselves as mommy and daddy. He sighs and attempts to slide his fingers inside her, her panties are already soaked.

“I said… wait,” She bats him off playfully and he licks his finger tips.

“Mmkay mommy,” he smirks and she rolls her eyes. A million years later he’s never forgotten the way she tastes, it melts like candy on his tongue. “You should’ve told her I’m scared of the dark and need mommy and daddy to protect me.” Patrick says.

“Yeah, tell her that and there would’ve been four of us in bed.” Art says, coolly.

“Exactly,” Tashi says. She grabs a pair of jeans that were draped over the chaise lounge and steps into them. Patrick still can’t believe that she’s real. That any of this is real.

Tashi leaves the bedroom and Patrick lingers a moment, pondering whether to come back later or stay. He still hasn’t talked to Art. Not in the way they should. He would have fucked them both last night if he could, but they were both too busy being mommy and daddy and daughter and son in law while they all went out for a celebratory dinner so Patrick was forced to be on his best behavior.

Art rolls over to look at his phone, he’s stretching out on the bed and that’s when Patrick gets a peek.

His ass in tight little briefs.

That was never Art’s thing before but now he’s all grown up. And good god did he grow up. Instead of boxers he’s all packed into that slutty barely there fitted underwear.

Patrick rubs himself idly through his boxers as Art turns back to look at him. “So this has to be your dream come true?” Art says.

“Uh huh,” Patrick says distractedly, thinking Art must be talking about his ass in those panties. Now that Arts on his back, the blanket no longer covering him, Patrick can see the line of his cock in the briefs. He’s not entirely hard but he isn’t soft either.

“This works out just perfectly for you,” Art continues dryly, oblivious to the way Patrick is fixated on him. “You get to keep fucking my wife and now all I get is to know when your doing it. Maybe this was your plan all along.”

“Sure,” Patrick smirks, he’s not really listening to him. The words he’s saying. It just nonsense. None of it stings the way it did 48 hours ago in the sauna when Patrick simultaneously wanted to fuck him and fuck him up. Now it just sounds like meaningless words in his familiar know-it-all lilt.

All while Art’s body is making so much noise. His thighs, creamy white contrasting with the dark blue underwear, peeking out from beneath the blanket. Solid, toned, just like his perfect fucking abs. Patrick wants to bite at the cut of his waist. He’s so clean shaven Patrick knows he won’t find much hair there if any, when he gets those fucking briefs off. Maybe he doesn’t want to take them off. Maybe he wants to push them to the side, suck him off while they're still on. Hear Art moan as they’re pulled too tight squeezing his balls.

“You know you can’t just get rid of me that easily.” Art is still talking, talking, talking.

“Uh huh,” Patrick climbs on the bed.

“Like even if she likes you more I’m still her husband. And I beat you yesterday which means—”

”What?” Patrick asks, pulling the blanket down so everything is exposed. “What does it mean?”

“It means— w-what are you doing?” Art asks.

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

“She’s— she’s probably talking to her mom, she’ll be back in a minute.”

“Yeah I know,” Patrick nudges his thighs. Art’s cheeks are suddenly blooming with color. “Is that all you wear when you go to sleep? Hm?” Patrick asks, softly.

“I uh— some nights.”

“It’s so—“ Patrick pulls at the briefs trying to get a good look inside.

“Patrick.” Art breathes, pushing his hands away. But he’s going from kinda hard to the fabric stretching so far it’s just barely able to contain him.

“What? I hear you Art. Blah blah blah. It’s my dream come true that I get to fuck your wife. Blah blah blah. I can’t get rid of you. You think I want to get rid of you? You really think that’s what I fucking want? That I’ve been waiting over a decade just to get rid of you.”

Art’s staring at him. He’s trying to go for confusion but his eyes are hooded. His chest is heaving.

“Does she fuck you like a slut?” Patrick asks gently, Art takes a breath and tries to look away but Patrick touches him again which makes him push back.

“God look at you,” Patrick sighs. Art’s gripping the sheets next to him, the flush has spread down to his chest. He looks like he belongs in a museum. Something too beautiful to touch. It just makes Patrick more eager to take him apart.

“You walk around in those and you’re really gonna pretend she’s never fucked you?” Patrick continues. “Or that in all those years since we kissed, in all those locker rooms filled with hot naked boys you’ve never let anyone just… slip it in.”

Art shivers. “I mean—just because I— it doesn’t mean I’m— it only happened when—-” The know-it-all tone has been replaced by silly attempts to figure out how to tell Patrick the truth or what the appropriate lie might sound like. Patrick rubs him through the cotton till he’s pitched a bit higher. Teases where the fabric has started to dampen with his precum and Art’s stammered words turn into full bodied moans.

Drunk with the sound Patrick moves to start mouthing the outline of his cock through the fabric of the briefs. Breathing him in, tasting him while he continues to palm him and rub him off.

“Oh god, Patrick. oh my god,” Art loses it moments later, moving his hips, moaning like a cat in heat. It’s ridiculous how quickly it happens. Patrick is throbbing in his boxers as he sits back to watch. Gently rubbing as Art comes all over the briefs. The wet spot expanding wider and wider. Art bucks his hips helplessly in the after shocks as more and more spurts out. Soon it’s so much come it’s soaking through in a way that’s just fucking obscene. Patrick makes a mental note to get the briefs off and pocket them, the way he’s done with women’s panties in the past.

“Mm,” Art sighs. He doesn't even have the decency to look ashamed when he’s all done. He just climbs on Patrick’s lap and starts kissing him. Like it’s this thing he’s always wanted to do but never felt like he had permission until now. He takes a minute to rub his face against Patrick’s cheeks like he just wants to feel the hair there. It’s actually kind of adorable. But Patrick can also taste Tashi all over Art’s lips which is actually kind of… filthy.

Patrick ruts into him, a few times, not even on purpose, it just happens because he’s so fucking hard. Art seems to take the hint. He starts grinding. Patrick’s lap, his mouth, his brain is all full of Art. Only the thin fabric of his boxers and the briefs are keeping Patrick out. It’s so juvenile and yet so fucking hot, letting Art ride him like this. He must have done this before. Patrick just knows he’s been fucked before. The way he’s humping and moaning like a little fucking slut.

Patrick’s muscles still ache distantly from the way they played yesterday and the ache feels so delicious. It’s enough to bring Patrick over the edge.

“Mm fuck,” he groans in Art’s ear, stilling as wave overtakes him. Art hums, moving his hips a little slower.

“Oh fuck,” Patrick says again breathlessly. He takes Art’s face in his hands and Art grins at him. “Yeah… speaking of my dream come true,” Patrick whispers. Art licks his lips before Patrick kisses him again.

[writingoddess1125]

Switch things Up

Art belongs to Vamos_MK on Twitter

So I decided to do a Kinktober ;3 Don't worry there will still be other stories mixed in if you aren't into the Kinky side! But for those who are interested I do hope you enjoy!

Also I will be doing every other day instead of everyday in order not to burn myself out- Enjoy anyways!

MUST BE 18+ TO READ!

SubBuggyxFemreader

⚠️Warnings:⚠️ Rimming, Fingerings, Pegging, Anal Sex, overstimulation, forced orgasm, praise kink, f■cked dumb.

Day 1. Pegging

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When you had asked Buggy to switch things up in the bedroom this was not what he expected-

Sure he had knew you were one to bring him out of his comfort zones- Hell you were the first person since he was young that he'd let see his bare face! But still.. Here he was looking at a rainbow stripped 8in strapon secured to your pelvis, naked as day and here he was, just as naked on the bed.

"Are you sure about this (Y/N)?" He seemed quite hesitant, this was definitely not something he had done before or thought of doing before-

"Yeah, of course I promise you'll like it!" You say cheerfully. Knowing that Buggy was just worried was all, You help him get on his hands and knees. Giggling at the sight, if he had a tail you were sure it would be inbetween his legs at this point. Deciding you need to loosen him up a bit first.

Leaning down you decide that a little Rimming would do the trick, Grabbing his hips and pulling them to your face. Seeing him turn back at you quickly with a face as red as his nose.

"W-Wait (Y/N) I am not sure this is a good- Ha-ngh~!" He stopped at this- Feeling your mouth beginning to work on him, a deeper blush forming on his cheeks and up to his ears.

He now understood why you liked this so much when he ate you out- His mind Seeming to melt as he felt your tongue fuck into him. He groaned loudly into the pillows, feeling your warm tongue lap at him and eat him out. His thighs starting to shake at the sensation and a warmth already building in his belly- but that was forgotten as you pulled away with a chuckle.

"Look at you hard already~" You giggle, He looked down inbetween his legs surprised to see you were indeed correct. Before he could even comment about this he gave a yelp in surprise as your way too cold fingers invaded him- Barely able to hear the comment of 'need to stretch you a bit more' leave you.

Buggy felt himself damn near cum when you started to finger him, pushing the cold lube deeper into him with your fingers and hitting such pleasurable points in him he didn't even know existed.

"F-Fuck! Wa-wait! Right- Ngh!" He moaned out as your fingers hit thay bundle of sweet nerves inside of him, His toes starting to curl and he clenched into those sheets harder. So close to jumping just like then- When suddently you pulled your fingers out giggling at him.

"Not yet Bugs~ Don't worry I'll give you something better then fingers~" You say sweetly, Hearing him whine at the lack of fingers inside of him. Gently you grasp his hips, still knowing he was dazed from just being finger fucked and slowly begin to slide inside of him, watching how he reacted.

Inch by inch he felt that toy slide inside of him, Nothing in this world even your powerful tongue and fingers prepared him for the feeling of being bitched out like this- His back arched as he felt that bundle of pleasure being hit again despite it being painfully slow and gurgled a moan. When you bottomed out with a snap of your hips he moaned loudly, more high pitched then normal like when he threw his little fits.

"There we go~ Took me so well" You purr, watching him shutter from your words. Slowly you pull out and snap your hips back in, Watching how his whole body recoiled with each thrust and a sloppy moan left him. Speeding up your thrust you start to pound into him, Hearing the symphony of loud moans leave him before he buried his face hard into the pillows.

Buggy bit hard into the soft pillows, his hands clenching the bedsheets like it was his lifeline- Gasping as your relentless thrust shot through his body.

Reaching out you grab a fistful of his cyan hair and pull hard, pulling his face from the pillows as he cried out in pleasure at the sensation- Fresh tears falling from his face as you manipulated his body in such blissful ways. Your hand finding his lower back and pushing down as you speed up your thrust watching him lower his back in a delightful arch- Sobs of bliss leaving him at this. The other end of the strap tugging your insides, making your mind go blank in pleasure. You were so close with each thrust into Buggy's ass.

You hear him squeal as his hips shake and he tightens around the toy, thrusting harder into him as he came from your brutal pace, cum running down his thighs and mattress below making his sob in bliss.

His cries of overstimulation ignored as you moved your hips faster and brought your own wash of an orgasm through your body, hips shuttering to a stop as you whine and lay your weight on his back. He feels like fire against your skin as you hear him whimpering in bliss still from the hard orgasm still rocking through his system.

Pulling back for a second you carefully slide the stripped toy from Buggy's hole. Watching how his body practically wept as you pulled yourself from him, looking over at how red his ass was due to your hips slamming into him. His knees clearly not doing much to support him in this blessed out state you tell him to turn, which he does half-assed.

You help flip him over- Seeing him like this just burned you in the best ways. Buggy's hair a haloed mess around him, the rise and fall of his chest showing off his pecs that glistened from sweat, and his face red and stained with fresh tears from how hard he had cum. He looks so cute, like a cum happy little slut that was close to coming undone.

"So cute~" You purred out, looking over him admiring him like this. His gaze meets yours at hearing you say this- He covers his face embarrassed by this.

"S-Shut up!" He manages out, you giggle at his weakened threat. Sliding back inbetween his legs you grab his left leg and bring it over your shoulder his eyes widening as you do this.

"Now don't be rude Baby Boy~" You purr out, seeing how he instantly got hard you you saying this. Smiling as you poked the tip of his election with your middle finger making him shiver.

"Hard already?~ Do you like it when I call you Baby Boy?~" You ask sweetly, He blushes deeply and just nods silently. Frowning slightly you tsk.

"I didn't hear an answer?~" You tease before thrusting into him hard making his back Arch and him cry out at the sudden feeling.

"Y-Yes!!" He cried, his back arching as precum began to drip down his cock. You set a brutal pace, of course. Watching how his cock bounced against his stomach with each thrust how adorable moans and drool left his gasping mouth desperate for more. Not being able to help yourself you lean down and steal a hard kiss from him-

Kissing him lips hard as you thrusted into him, Your hand grabbing some of his hair to pull earning a whimpering moan from his parted lips.

Pulling back you watch as he cried out in bliss, his tongue hanging out as with just a few addionals he was about to cum. Smirking you lean down and grasp the base of his cock to keep that from happening, Slowing down tour hips which made his eyes widened and whimper out in desperation.

"Na!" He whimpered as you rubbed your thumb painfully slow over the the head of his weepy cock- Tears running down his cheeks as he choked back a broken moan. Your slow painful thrust not helping his abilties to speak.

"Come now Buggy~" Leaning down you whisper in his ear, nibbling his earlobe as you slowed your thrust, burying yourself as deeply inside of him as possible- His body shivering hard as you press on the deepest part of him.

"(Y-Y/N)!!!" He sobbed out, arching his back as your fingers speed up around his oversenstive cock.

"Come for me Baby Boy~" You whisper as you speed your handjob and give one hard thrust into him.

He gave such a loud squealing moan you never heard from him before, his hips bucking hard against your hand and even lifting your hips from the force- He came hard against your fingers coating his own belly and your hands in thick ribbons of cum, his whole body shivering with each powerful waves of pleasure that shot through his quivering body.

"Good Boy Buggy~" You purred out, Leaning back so you could take in the full picture of the man before you

"Aww~ Is my pretty boy okay?~" You praised, running your fingers over his tear stained cheeks as he laid there shaking. Whimpering moans breaking through his rugged pants, his own cum now being smeared over his cheeks at your antics. Giggling you place your fingers in his mouth wanting for him to taste himself- as obedient as a puppy he licks and sucks your fingers with those watery blue eyes finally looking up at you.

"Such a good boy~" You purr, another wave of arousal shooting through you at the sight of him. Rolling your hips which earns a weakened moan from him.

"Let's see if you can last one more round for me Baby Boy~"

[astralnymphh]

patterned palmistry ⋆ | ellie williams headcanons

༺ ellie x witch!reader headcanons/scenarios ༻ ☽𖤐☾

✧˖ ° 🕯 bright blessings!

an: being the witchy little gremlin i am i just had to throw some hcs together for myself but ofc i'd share them here🙄ive been practicing witchcraft since i was 15 so it felt fitting to incorporate it whenever i brace my delusions at the bootycrack of midnight that r all abt ellie 💀 regardless this def isnt gonna be my only witchy hcs post i just didnt wanna spoil all my ideas right away <3 tags: MDNI, slight nsfw (no detailed smut), boob jokes, witchcraft (obv), tarot, palm reading, mostly convos, flirting, not mentioned in the writing but u 2 r alrdy dating, playful bickering, more natural casual writing with some bigger words, no specific religion tied to the practice, generally a fluff piece, lowk cute moments. °________________________⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆__________________________°

I. ☆ ellie definitely had a peak in curiosity the first time you mentioned you immerse yourself in the world of the craft, her ears perked figuratively and were tuned in to learn what that entails. she may not forfeit a nip of skepticism right away but she's more than happy to engross herself in the idea of it. you'd stay up till first light rambling on about the 'rituals', 'divination', the history tied to it and why you practice it. you'd be lying in bed adjacent to her, heavenward to the ceiling, but interwoven in a warm and loving cuddle with her palm residing on your lap whilst you chatted.

"mmmmh-" ellie's hum churns 'round your bedroom, "so that's why you collect rocks."

"crystals."

"same thing," she drones an inwardly giggle, "which crystal will give me superpowers?" a witty remark springs from her tongue.

"babe.." you pout, acting offended yet none is taken.

"didn't mean it like that, y'know I believe you, it's all just new to me." ellie tapes an assuring kiss to your temple, "tell me about your favorite crystals, hmm?" 

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

II. ☆ now because of this, anytime you're out on patrol and delight the opportunity of scavenging, she always keeps in mind to find you flowers, rocks, unused candles and other oddities of nature.

"hey babe! I found a black candle for'ya." ellie bolstered a long glass cylinder filled with an opaque charcoal wax, wick still intact, "and- ..some wild lavender." her other arm swings from behind her back, twines of dusty purple lavender upheld in a pinch.

"fuck yeah, needed this stuff.." you graciously tweak the lavender from her, whiffing up its poignant scent.

"always on the lookout.." her voice resembles her proud countenance outwards, essentially, a dorky smirk.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

III. ☆ obviously, the second you mentioned the art of tarot to her, she begged for a reading. whenever a card flew from your shuffling motions, she'd patiently wait for you to place it before her and then she'd swipe it up and admire the art piece detailing the cardstock.

"whew! look at the boobs on this one!" 

"oh- my god, of course you'd point that out." you snatch the card from her, shamelessly ogling the nude depiction that had her attention.

"you're looking at them too!"

"cuz' you said something 'bout it!" you flick the card towards her face, noting, "those are some nice boobs though." 

"why thank you~" 

"wasn't talking about you, idiot!" 

"eh, but.. urs' are the best." her hoarse tone binds a nonchalant flirtiness in its rumble.

"oh really? should we compare the.. four?"

that really stole her attention.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

IV. ☆ the first time you entertained her with a palm reading, it had her all dappy and touched to the essence at the paltry contact you made with her hand. your fingerprints drafting her calloused palms with such a gentle focus on every river lining her hand. she just wanted to smother you with kisses.

"and… this is your heart line." your finger hovers the crevice of her palm-pads stretching from index to pinkie, "ah.. it's a broken one.."

"is that.. bad?" her juniper eyes study your expression meticulously.

"it just means u're closed off, stubborn, have some emotional trauma.. stuff like that." you mindlessly fiddle with her fingers, "lines can change though, so.."

she nods, taking in the insight. she licks her slightly chapped lips clean, "am I stubborn?" her voice rises partially an octave, bending playfulness in her question.

"mm.. no."

"why'd you hesitate?"

"well- the only times ur' stubborn is refusing to let go whenever you hug me- ur' a life-size sloth!" 

"I like huggin' you though." a puppy pout frowns on her lips, "you're like a pillow!"

and oh, how your heart capers a beat, "is that all I am, williams?"

her swift speech conjuncts, "whaddid' I say about that name?!"

"I don't know, I think you like it." 

"nuh-uh I don't!"

you pepper a haste kiss to her knuckles still forcepped in your clasp, totally deterring the crime you've just committed when a half impish half taken aback smile creaks her lips.

"c'mere." vaults from her tongue before she lunges her body forward and tackles you in a saucy position riddled with love bites. guess you'll be reading her palms in a different way tonight.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆ V. ☆ an bonus hc, you'd totally mention out of the void about her tattoo n the mystic meanings surrounding moths, like, its for sure one of the topics you'll ramble about one night cause you just feel so wise for knowing. "y'know, moths play a pretty large role in the metaphysical world." "really? i mean, i knew they had some kind of.. 'symbolism' to them-" ellie's hand rolls over the knoll of her forearm, reading the bumps glamoured in that beautiful inking. "yeah, like- luna moths represent transformation, renewal.. oh! and death-head moths are an omen of death.. an- and black witch moths mean either good luck, or bad-" ellie is amused at your prattle shown by her raspy giggles, legitimately having to conceal her scrunched face. "what?" "nothin' you- you're just so cute." "stop.." the embarrassment catches up to you, now having to hide your face to the shadows beneath your hands. her finger cranes out to hook and uncover your nerdy grin, assuring, "never stop tellin' me bout this stuff, ok babe?" a wide delighted beam syncs on her cheeks. goddess above, her dimples and nasal lines are to die for. ⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

𖤐

in general; she's a curious dork n will ask you oh so many questions, i mean, she loves space and a futuristic sci-fi comic for crying out loud, she's alrdy so imaginative so ofc she'd be open to a realistic amount. she'd also be so respectful and helpful n defend ur practice with so much love. maybe she'd pick up some little traditions and customs like folding letters a specific amount of times, drawing little pentacles, mixing liquid in specific directions, just the simple things that grow on her.

[lucrativesoul]

Espionage

summary: working in an underground crime syndicate, your job gets risky, but, the more risk, the more reward. you jumped the gun on your thievery through an art museum, and come across one certain guard who is adamant on stopping you in your path.

pairing: guard!leon kennedy x female reader

word count: 11.5k

warnings: smut, fingering, choking, slight degradation, dom leon

a/n: yall know i had to do one with tactical gear leon i mean come onnnn look at him!!! (patrick voice) i went a little wild with this one LOL i really thought it was gonna be my shortest work yet and here we are. the plot of this was inspired by Death Prefers Blondes by Caleb Roehrig! if you guys liked the idea of our mc's job here, i suggest you check out that book, its a really great young adult read! i had so much fun with this one, i really hope i didn't keep you guys waiting. i hope you enjoy, thank you endlessly for the support, and I will see you soon :)

Taking a deep sigh, you reclined yourself back as far as you could in the stiff chair, which wasn’t much. The light above you was flickering, to your annoyance, but you kept quiet about it, focusing instead on the rapid typing on the keyboard from the man in front of you. The room was cold, and you pulled your sweatshirt tighter around you. You knew to come prepared this time.

You hoped you would get out of here before the traffic rush. You hated having to come all the way out here, but, after all, it was your job.

To explain how you came into this would take too long, as you tell everyone, so simply put: Some connections in your life led to other connections, and those connections allowed you to quit your two part time jobs and become a full time criminal. Literally.

You met this man, Carlos, at the gym where you liked to spar with some of the trainers when they weren’t in sessions. Simulating a fight was not something you had expected to find a lot of entertainment in, but when you got up there in front of someone and were forced to defend yourself with blocks and punches and kicks, it introduced a whole new adrenaline into your world. Keeping up with your physical shape had definitely aided in your ability to be nimble, and your history of (attempted) gym consistency helped build muscle. 

Carlos had pulled you aside after a sparring session with another trainer, impressed by your moves, and had told you he wants to see you put it to the real test. He offered you a spot in the gym he frequented (which was, to your horror at first, the sketchiest building you had ever seen in your life from the outside), paired you with a trainer who wasn’t afraid to throw real punches, and before you knew it, you could fight an array of builds and heights. 

From there, you kept talking to people who knew people who knew Carlos, and he weaseled you into his line of work where he trusted you to go on the scene of whatever was the target, and sold all of your loot. He was your fence, you were his robber. Quite simply.

A real threat of danger hung over your head on every job, and you knew this well enough. There was always the chance of getting caught, considering every location had guards 24/7. There was always a chance you could get hurt; fall from a high location, the failure of equipment, get shot for fucks sake, but you loved the adrenaline it gave you. You felt on top of the world, and in the back of your mind, you knew this would surely be considered an addiction, but you didn’t care. Every new job upped the ante, and you needed more.

The second deep breath you took expanded your lungs, the stretch feeling good after not moving for several minutes now. You rolled your head side to side, hearing the crack, and turned your attention back to Carlos, who finally started talking again.

“I have buyers in Europe lined up for these.” He looked down at the desk, an array of shiny stones and metals bent in intricate shapes and chains laid out in front of him. Courtesy of yours truly. “A few are interested in the same piece, but they can argue with themselves, I’m only going to sell it to them, I’m not the mediator.” He sighed and pushed back in his rolling chair, pulling open a file cabinet and a manila folder.

“Where in Europe? Can we hand deliver?” You couldn’t help but grin slightly, and Carlos didn’t have to look up from his papers to know you were.

He shrugged. “If you want to risk receiving a chest cavity the size of a gold ball, knock yourself out.” He knew you were joking, and you knew the rules well enough. Knowing who your buyers were, and going within any sort of vicinity of them while knowing their identity was strictly off limits. He turned his head towards his computer again. “Venice. Nice.” He turned towards you. “Budapest. The usual.”

You nodded. You were expecting some sort of answer along the lines of that, so it wasn't too much of a surprise to you. Oh, how it would be nice to be in Europe, though.

“Here’s the deal.” Carlos put the folder of papers down in front of you, and you lazily scanned it, knowing that most of it was going to look like gibberish anyways. Carlos was the man in between here, you simply stole things. You didn’t deal with the numbers and the logistics. “The man who is in the battle for our largest emerald is willing to step aside and let our Venetian buyer take the cake, because he reached out with another job that he and only he wants to be in the running for.”

You scoffed. “Dude must be loaded then. A solo job?”

Carlos cocked an eyebrow. “He gave me parameters for the job, and I almost turned him down without even running it by you, to be honest.”

You sat up straight. “The fuck, Carlos? Give it to me, I can take it.”

He sighed and slouched back in his chair. You were honestly surprised that Carlos was not the one in your spot. He was insanely built and could easily take down four armed guards at once, but you never found out why he chose to be behind the scenes. At least you knew he trusted you enough not to put you in anything that would be instant death.

“There’s apparently an heirloom to this guy’s lineage sitting in a chamber room of the gallery downtown. He’s been trying to find a means to reach it and claim it back for years, but, according to him, the museum won’t budge on letting him anywhere near a buying price.”

You let his words sink in. “What’s so bad about that?”

Carlos sighed again. “It’s an art gallery.” He stared at you, waiting for you to get the point. “They have armed guards posted day in and day out. Alarms at every possible entrance and cameras watching every square inch of the place. It’s just not feasible.”

You shook your head. “Carlos, come on. I know you have access to the technical means that we need to do our surveillance. We can watch their route. We can track who does what nights and who might be the easiest to take down. I did that at the villa two weeks ago.” 

“Yes, and you nearly lost your life. I was shooting myself in the foot for putting you out there.”

You shook your head again. Part of you was thankful that Carlos had the decency to regret his decision of accepting that job, and feeling remorse once you reported back that one of the bodyguards had you in a near death chokehold before you managed to, by luck, weasel free. Even you were still haunted by that. But you would never let it slow you down, and would never tell Carlos, as he would surely put you in safer locations. Which meant less fun.

“I’m just saying, now that it’s been done, I can do it again. And be careful about it this time. I want to do this Carlos, I believe I can.”

Carlos was silent for a moment, thinking over your words. He sighed.

“I want our people staking out on the perimeter the whole time. I don’t want to hear objections. There will be a team this time, this is not just somebody’s home. This is government and city property, if you don’t die, you and I are as good as dead in the prison system.”

You quirked a small smile. “Come on Carlos.” He lazily held eye contact. “You think I’d rat you out like that?”

He sighed and rolled his eyes, but you could tell he was fighting the urge to smile as well. “Be back here tomorrow at 12. We’ll start our prep.”

–

You, Carlos, and two other men were huddled around a plethora of screens deep in the trenches of Carlos’ office. One of the monitors had split screen CCTV surveillance, six cameras watching the main galleries and two hallways, one was a datamine of the encrypted content regarding the people employed to stand guard at the museum, and the others were floor plans of each floor and wing of the gallery.

The size of the place didn’t scare you, in fact, it only brought more excitement to your job. As soon as Carlos brought up the blueprints and started mapping escape routes and how to avoid camera sightings, you memorized it instantly. This would be a breeze.

“Here’s who we need to look out for.” He drew up a site that had profiles of each of the seven guards that do night duty. Their employee photos looked like mugshots. “These three guys guard the east wing, these two rotate between west wing and foyer since that is the smallest wing and closer to the entrance, and these two are usually staked out by the rear gallery.”

“You seem to already have this down, Carlos.” You mumbled.

He snickered from in front of you. “I’ve been watching already.”

You sighed through your nose. “Going to turn down this job my ass.”

“We’re expecting these two to be in the west wing the night of the heist. I’ve been watching, and they tend to rotate, but there’s a pattern. I’m sure it will be them.” You nodded, listening closely to his words. Carlos might be a pain in the ass sometimes, but you knew he didn’t mess around with ensuring the best possible route. “One stands in the wing while the other stands in the foyer. They rotate at the same time, so there is a small window when no one is watching the far end of the gallery.”

“How am I getting in there? Hanging out overnight?” It was a partial joke, but you never knew with this team. 

Carlos shook his head, and diverted everyone’s attention to an isolated map, similar to the layout of the floor plan. “This is the duct system.” You stifled a laugh. You should have expected this. “Big enough for a person like you. The duct room is locked whenever no one is accessing them, and the only people that do are the janitorial team, and Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday are the only times they are sweeping the building.”

“Literally, sweeping.” 

Carlos sighed heavily at your remark. “The system that is connected to the electronic lock is also connected to what controls the cameras and the lights. I can get you in there, but only in a very small window of time. It needs to be during the day.”

“The day.” You echoed. “So, I’ll be camped out in there for a while, then?”

Carlos nodded. You knew what you were about to get yourself into. It came with the job description, and before the job actually launched into action, you knew that familiar feeling of anxiety blossoming in your chest. You had been in the gym consistently, trying to find someone to mock a chokehold with you in the case that it happened all over again. If it did, you decided Carlos didn't need to find out.

You knew you were physically ready. The odds of going against a huge man didn't look great from the outside, but you were flexible, and fast, and if you could bounce around their sights, you could steer clear of any sort of altercations.

“Yes, you’ll be in there for a while. It’s the only way.” You nodded again. You knew there was no such thing as comfort in this line of work. If you get too comfortable, you might as well get ready to be comfortable in a jail cell, or in the afterlife. “We move in Thursday night. Just to be sure that the cleaning happens Wednesday and we won't get any surprises. You’ll enter at 4 PM. I’ll be watching all morning to decide what you should wear to make the least waves possible and so you can disappear when they close at 6. Regular day employees stay until 7:30, then the guards move in, but we can’t make our moves until well after sunset.” Carlos was looking mostly at you, as the other teammates he rounded up were just going to stake out the perimeter. “You know the prep. Make sure you last while you wait.”

–

You spent the next week in the office watching everyone’s moves. The guards followed a monotonous routine in which areas they patrolled. Odd, considering they might want to watch for corners where people could stay hidden. 

They all stuck to their schedules, no employee stayed later than an hour and a half after closing, guards immediately did a sweep of the whole building for the lame thieves who attempted to hide in bathrooms, before they stuck to their positions, and that’s where they stayed for the night, until 5 AM. You were positive you had this down now, there was no way you could be wrong.

There was, of course, but you preferred to pretend otherwise.

The guards rotated as predicted, and with every step they took every passing day you grew more confident in this job. That person who was commissioning this should be well willing to tip generously considering the amount of prep taking place.

You swallowed the lump of anxious nerves, pushing yourself into your work mindset as you sat outside the museum, the breeze cooling down your heated skin. Carlos had been keeping watch of the patrons since opening, and he concluded the appropriate outfit for you to don would be a tan hoodie, light wash jeans, and you didn’t have many options in the way for shoes, a simple pair of white sneakers having to do the trick. You knew they would be watching at the door, a metal detector as well as bag checks were mandatory, so you couldn’t risk a bag, but you had all you needed strapped underneath your clothes to your second skin layer– a skintight bodysuit, equipped with maximum breathability and flexibility– and all of your weapons holstered as close as they could get.

With nothing else except your phone (which was off) and wallet (with a fake ID), you walked up the steps, blending in with the bustle, but knowing well enough to not look too suspicious. You knew the rest of your team was around the perimeter, out of your view, and you were going to hear from Carlos for the first time when it was necessary for you to hide. He was never on location, he was seated safely in his office, every screen lit up with hacked CCTV footage and an in-ear device to communicate directly to you.

You took yet another deep breath in. You got this. You had to.

You knew you had time to kill while you waited to hear from Carlos. It couldn’t be right away, that would look too unnatural if you made a beeline past too many priceless works of art. So, not begrudgingly, you strolled through the galleries, admiring the timeless art, feeling inspired, excited, the sun streaming in through the glass ceilings of some of the halls.

It was mostly quiet, the murmur of people surrounding you, discussing what they were looking at, the occasional kid running by. As much of an admirer you were, you could feel the adrenaline coursing through your arms and hands, dying to get started. But, as Carlos taught you well, patience was a virtue, and if you rushed things, it could get bad, and fast.

After a lap, which lasted close to an hour, you sat on a bench in the west wing. You knew this was close to where you needed to be, and it would be easier to stay close in case the window of opportunity arose when you weren’t expecting it, which was typical. 

You toyed around with a pamphlet you had picked up near the entrance, still keeping an eye out for any employee, or any guard, which would be out of place at this time. It was nearing 5:30 now, and they were going to be closing in 30 minutes. Your heart rate quickened at that thought, knowing they were going to be sending employees to do loops and tell people their time was being cut short. You slowly straightened your posture, trying not to look too alert, trying to calm down–

“--in, come in. Connected to base, CCTV footage overrode, stations manned.” You heard Carlos’ crackly voice through your in-ear, and you slumped backward, relieved.

“Copy.” You kept your voice low and mouth movements to a minimum. “I assume you know where I’m at.”

“Bench in the back left of the west wing. The duct room is also being watched. It has been looking clear for the last ten minutes, give me another five to make sure, then I will give you instructions.”

You gave a slight nod, knowing he could see you. You kept up your previous charades, reading the same script for the fifth time on the pamphlet, people watching, and employee watching. The next five minutes took way too long.

“Get up slowly and walk along the wall to the left. Someone is coming down the hallway telling people there is 20 minutes to closing. Let him pass you, acknowledge what he said, and let him get about 20 feet ahead.” You shifted in your seat, pushing yourself up. Taking another look at the paintings hung on the walls, you realized as you approached– this was the one you were meant to take. You were so tempted to stand here and look at it, but you didn’t want to draw a suspicious coincidence in the mind of the employee who would see you standing in front of it. One glance later, and you moved on.

“Excuse me,” A soft voice spoke from behind you. You turned around, and acted surprised. A short man with dark hair had a friendly smile on. “The gallery will be closing in 20 minutes, just a heads up.” You nodded a thank you, and promised to move on swiftly.

“Ten seconds, then when you walk through the aisle in between the columns, there’s a hallway to the left. You’ll have a really small window to duck into the door on the left side and wait while I override the door code.”

“Code?!” You whisper-shouted, taking care to keep your voice low. “This should have been something you told me earlier.” 

“Don’t worry, I have access to it and can let you in. It will only take one more second, but you have to be quick with this door, you know that.” You sighed, knowing he was right. Your steps were quiet, but firm, and you caught sight of the small hallway he was talking about. “There’s no one behind you, but we can’t guarantee that’s permanent.” Oh, yes, you knew that was the truth. You wanted to turn around, but fought against it, not wanting to catch anyone’s eye.

Step, breath, step… “Go, now, hurry.” You careened quickly to the left into the hallway, knowing anyone would notice you if they walked by. “Two seconds…” Carlos configured the software to the door’s electronic lock as you approached and stood there, heart hammering. You pulled your sleeve over your hand. You heard the click. “You’re in, move.” You pushed down on the door handle with your sleeved hand and creeped into the room, wasting no time in shutting the door. You waited for the command before you moved. “You made it blindly. No one noticed you.” You sighed gently. “To your left, there's a switch. Flip the one in the middle. It’s the nightlight.”

You did as told, relaxing slightly now that you could see. The room looked exactly as expected. It was more of a closet, really. There was an electric panel on the wall opposite the door, a rack of cleaning supplies to the right, and in the left corner across from you, a large duct sock extending from a fixture that was taller than you. You had no idea where it led to, as it disappeared up into the ceiling, but you had a feeling that’s where you were destined to spend the next handful of hours.

You took your time inspecting the room, knowing there was going to be nothing quick about this next step. Behind the large fixture that filtered the air and sent it through the duct, there was a small passageway blocked by a vent grate. Carlos had told you vis in-ear to unscrew the large grate and tuck yourself in there. At least it was right next to the cooling system, and you could shed some layers. It would get hot, and quickly, in there.

Time ticked by slower than ever as you were stretched out in the vent, now loose from your jeans and sweatshirt. Your bodysuit was keeping you cool, and you managed your breathing whenever you remembered so you would be able to keep your core temperature as stable as possible. You ran over the plan once, twice, a thousand times, and maybe even drifted off once or twice, by the time you heard Carlos’ voice again, sounding angelic after all this time.

“Hey, you awake in there?” His soft, crackled voice sounded through your brain.

“As ever. What’s the time?” You whispered back, shocked at how far the smallest vocal sound carried through the metal tube.

“Close to 11PM. We have to get moving soon.” You nodded, knowing he couldn’t see you.

“Can I push this thing open? Can someone hear me from here?”

“Give me two seconds, I need to make sure I can disable central control of the cameras so no one else watching security can see. We don’t need any unnecessary backup here.” You let Carlos do his thing from base, and tried your best to stretch your limbs getting ready to move. “Okay, this will take a few minutes, but in thirty seconds, the rotation from west wing to foyer is going to start. Countdown, then crawl out as carefully as possible.”

Breathing steadily, countdown rapidly ticking in your head, you started at thirty, gripping the grate as much as you could once you hit one, and pushed outwards. You had managed to click the metal back in place behind you once you crawled in, but it wasn’t the most subtle sound. Now, it counted even more that it was timed right.

With a solid shove and a louder than you expected click (and a wince), and shimmied your way out of the vent, placing the metal onto the ground with the slowness of a turtle. You had no idea if anyone was going to open the door to this right now, so you just had to trust that the silence from Carlos meant that nothing was about to go wrong.

You stood up, sighing deeply when you could finally stretch out before getting to move for the first time in nearly 6 hours. The spandex of your bodysuit contoured with your body, and you felt unrestrained as you stretched out, ready to be as light on your feet as possible. There was a small holster on your thigh, where a retractable baton was strapped in tight, and one around your waist, holding onto three tiny knives– stainless steel– the closest thing that would get you through the detectors without being flagged. Fingers crossed they wouldn't need to be used.

“The rotation just finished, so in about ten more minutes, our window will open for you to come out and stay hidden. Remember where all the sculptures are layed out?”

“Yeah, I do.” You continued to stretch through Carlos’ words. “I’m ducking out of here at your command, softly shutting the door. I come quietly to the opening of the hallway and duck out to the right, hide behind a column and stay low.” You recited again, and heard Carlos give a hum of approval. 

“Just hang tight for now, I’ll let you know when you need to start moving. Security override is almost done. Remember, they’re gonna try and reboot the system immediately, which will take another minimum five minutes, max ten. Be light on your feet, move fast.”

You steadied your breathing once again, flexing everything in your body to make sure you were adequately stretched out and ready for action. You had never felt more so. 

“Exit the room in twenty seconds. Start counting.”

You pounced on your feet at the sound of Carlos’ voice after a few minutes, gloves on your hands (which had also been hidden in a pocket of the bodysuit), and gripped the handle, counting just to the pace you had been trained to.

“Move.”

You and Carlos reached the countdown at the same time, and you pressed the metal handle down and inched the door open, swiftly, but not enough to cause the hinges to make noise. You slithered out, and once you had the door shut again without a sound, you dropped down onto your knees, walking in a crouch to the entrance of the gallery.

You were hidden immediately by a column. You peeked out, knowing there wouldn’t be a guard in the aisle but checking anyway, and waddled over to the next column, feeling your heart rate increase with every step. Peeking around, you spotted the guard, who was walking slowly towards the middle of the west wing. He had his hands by his sides, gun holstered on his hip. Not much more than an average cop’s bulletproof vest on his body.

You waited for him to reach the center and do a lazy turn, back towards you, to run to the next column. Time was ticking, but as long as he stayed right where he was, you would be able to secure this artwork and disappear.

You reached the next column, and the next, all the while the guard was still turned, and you ducked back whenever he did a mandatory sweep of the area behind him. You could see the painting you needed from your current position. If Carlos had it under control, he could stifle the alarm system at the very second you used one of the knives to cut the cords and rip it from his ceiling holsters. You could tell on your first walk by this afternoon that it was nothing more than a heavy fishing wire, and it could be done soundlessly.

One more column, and you could see the guard from your hunched over position. You were pretty well hidden behind the column itself and a sculpture sat in front, and slightly to the left of it. You heard him sniffle, and shift his weight again before turning around, and crouch-running to the column that sat just to the right of the painting. This was it.

You had your head parked solidly right behind the column, watching the guard. He was still facing you, looking up at the ceiling, down all the obvious passageways, and then he turned. It was now or never.

You creeped forward, hand over the knife on your holster, ready to slice through the cord on the wall. You were waiting for Carlos’ sign that the alarms had been disabled. Nothing, but you had no time to wait. You had to try it.

You pulled the knife from the holster and pushed the blade out, gloved hand gripping the frame, and in two swift movements, the wires giving a slight shing with the cut, it was loose, no alarms, and you dropped back to the ground and ran.

Taking the same caution on the way back as you did on the way over, you stopped at columns to watch the guards, and by the tell-tale sign of him stalking forward once, you knew the rotation was about to happen.

You grew closer and closer back to the duct room; through the vents as your only way out. 

Taking the opportunity of no guard in the hall, you went as fast as you could in a crouch, seeing the opening for the hallway mere feet away. It was home free. Another job done.

Still in the clear, your heart hammering, you dove forward into the hallway, not wasting anymore time. You reached the hallway, turned the corner, and found yourself staring straight into the barrel of a gun.

Stopping short, nearly screaming out, you could only stare as you tried to identify the person behind it. You couldn’t move, your limbs were frozen in place. You could not hear Carlos, you didn’t even know if he saw you cut the line. He had the alarms disabled, clearly, but where was he? And who was this man?

You couldn’t see the bottom half of his face. Behind the large gun he had pointed at you, he had  a black neck gaiter covering from his nose down. His eyes were hard, eyebrows deeply furrowed, they looked blue in the dim light. His blonde hair was pushed off his forehead, stiff with gel. He was covered neck to feet in gear, a large, bulletproof vest and cargo pants, not another inch of skin showing. He was crouching to your height. Clearly, he knew you would be coming back here. What the fuck was going on?

He tilted his head in a mocking gesture at you, making fun of your momentary stupidity. You wanted to fight, but you knew better. If you drew attention now, you would be vastly overpowered very quickly. 

“Looking for an easy escape?” His voice was deep and husky, and for a moment you thought this was someone on your team. But no, they were told strictly to stay outside under all circumstances. This was not someone trying to help you. He was trying to capture you.

“Who are you?” You whispered, praying that Carlos was listening, feeling more panicked that you couldn’t hear him.

He shook his head. He was not in the mood to be courteous. “Go to the door behind me to my left. If you make noise, I’ll kill you. If you fight, I’ll kill you. Go,”

Your breath hitched, you could fight him with a knife, but with the barrel aimed straight for your brain, it was no use trying right now. You needed a plan, and quick. But for now, you had to obey.

Your legs felt like jelly as you stayed low and walked over to the door, the stranger backing up and keeping his gun trained on you the whole time. When you approached it, you stood up, looking back at him. He nudged his gun forward in a go in gesture, and with a deep breath, you quietly pushed the handle downwards and walked in.

This was not the duct room, which was the door on the other side of the hallway. Why had you not seen this door, why did Carlos also not seem to know about this door? When you walked in, you for real almost choked this time, it was the goddamn control room. The very one that Carlos had overridden to let you get into the museum after hours in the first place. Oh, you were fucked.

“You thought you had it all planned, huh? I’ve been sitting here this whole goddamn time watching you. I saw you walk in, I saw you sit down, I saw you go into the hallway, I was waiting for you.” Your stomach ran cold, not knowing what to do now. Carlos was MIA. He surely must be frantic. Was he going to send the team in?

You were staring straight ahead at the vast array of monitors, way more than Carlos had. Every inch of the museum was being watched. You saw the screen with the duct room hallway. It was in the rightmost corner. The control room door was hidden from this angle. This room had been scrubbed from blueprints. You would have seen it, you know it.

The chair in front of you was pushed out, most likely from this man standing up to meet you when you returned. A coat, issued with the museum’s logo, was draped over the chair. You could see a nametag pinned to the front. Leon S. Kennedy. That name did not sound familiar.

You squeaked out when the barrel of the gun hit you square in between the shoulder blades. “Your buddies can’t save you now, you know. Next time they try to do this, they’ll have to do more than just some book research.”

You took a steady breath, urging yourself to sound more collected than you felt. “Don’t act so high and mighty, Leon Kennedy.”

He scoffed. “Don’t act so fucking smart because you know how to read.” He used his gun once more to push your shoulder so you could spin around and face him. You could only stare as he maintained his composure. His eyes were not softening up. “Did you think you could be in and out with this one? Just like all the others?” You tried to fight it, but you felt your face scrunch in confusion. How does he know about the others? He made another sound, like a laugh, and you could almost see the outline of his cocky smile underneath his mask. “Don’t act like you stayed off of anyone’s radar. Your little fence isn’t exactly a low profile criminal in the underground market.” Your stomach sank. He knew about Carlos. He knew about the whole ring, he had been watching you! 

“This was… Is this even a real job?” You spat out, feeling more and more of a struggle to breathe. 

Finally, Leon put down his gun. He knew he had you under his fingers. He crossed one more step to get in your face, looking down at you. “Like I said… Your buddies need to be more careful with what they decide to take on.” He muttered at you.

Something clicked inside of you. It was a life or death situation, and there were no more good outcomes. With the swiftness of air, you shot your right hand up, connecting your fist with the side of Leon’s jaw. It caught him off guard, but it did no more than knock him back a couple of steps. That was a hard jaw.

You used those two seconds to your advantage as you sprung forward, using the chair behind you as leverage as you kicked into his chest with both feet, sending him flying backwards, knocking the gun loose from his grip. He almost fully lost his balance, and you rocketed forward, finishing him off and wanting to send him straight to the floor.

It seems, though, you underestimated how well trained this man might be. He never hit the floor, and from the second you sent him reeling backwards, he was already connecting the distance between you two again, and he ducked when you sent another leg flying at him. He hooked your other leg in his grip, turning you over and forcing you to fall to the floor on your back, effectively rendering your lungs useless.

You gasped for air, finding the strength to fight back, and before he could unlatch himself from the leg he had a grip on, you tightened your other around his throat, tucking his neck right under your knee, and you squeezed hard. 

Finding air again, and still keeping Leon in a chokehold, you pushed yourself up, and rolled the both of you over, so you were now essentially sitting on top of him, pushing his body into the ground as you kept him senseless. The dominance didn’t last long, as he pushed himself up, slamming you, once again, into the ground, loosening your leg, and escaping.

Your attempts at punches were meek, and he gripped both of your wrists in his hands and pinned them down; it was useless. It was over. During the altercation, most likely while he was being choked out, his gaiter slipped down, now wrapped around his neck. The rest of his features match the top half, and god dammit why did you have to make enemies with a man who looks like he should be on display in this very place?

“You should stop trying to fight me.” He grumbled from over you. You knew he had the upper hand now, definitely physically, but you weren’t going to stop.

“And just accept defeat? Accept whatever is going to happen next?” Despite knowing it would be useless, you attempted to break free from Leon’s grip anyway. It resulted in a tighter grasp around your wrists, and you winced. “What do you want from me? You set this up just to catch me. But you’re on the inside, too. You can’t nail us without incriminating yourself.”

If it was even possible, his face hardened further. He lowered his body to bring his face inches from yours, and you found yourself not turning away from his gaze. 

“Maybe that’s just not what I’m after.”

The sentence brought your mind to a complete blank. What else could he be after? If he was employed by the museum you were currently trying to steal a painting from and sell it for thousands, shouldn’t he want to take you down to protect the art? Wouldn’t he want to put you and your team in jail for the crimes you all have committed? 

“So, what? You just wanted to take me down? Try and make me fail? To prove something to yourself?” You were desperate at this point to hear something from Carlos, and the more time went by, you were sure Leon must have done something to the connection. Since he already knows… “Why can’t I hear my team?” You barked at him.

He quirked a cocky grin once again. “I don’t need you calling for unnecessary help. I’ve got it taken care of.” With one harsh movement, he adjusted both of your wrists so they were being held by his left hand. He then used his right to rip the in-ear out, making you cry out when the tape was torn from behind your ear. He kept tugging the cord until the tiny transmitter, which was clipped to the inside of your bodysuit, just below your shoulder, was out in the open, and tossed it aside. He was putting increasing pressure on your wrists, and you couldn't help but writhe.

“Let me go, I don’t get why you’re doing this.” You started a struggle again, but he shut it down swiftly. “Why me, Leon, why us? Surely we can’t be the only underground heist group within the vicinity, surely someone else must have tried to break in here.” 

Leon stared at you for a moment from his place above you. His expression gave nothing away about his thoughts, and it was aggravating you endlessly. He thought he was all that. You were pissed off, because you also felt like that was true. He did manage to fumble your route and tackle you and cut you off from comms. Asshole.

He lifted himself off of you slowly, and you felt the pressure around your wrists disappear. He was straddling you now, his large legs encapsulating you on both sides, his arms looked massive from this angle. His vest was littered with utility pouches, and you weren't sure you wanted to find out what was in them. The gaiter was slack around his neck, and you felt so tiny, submissive, and rapidly heating up under his half lidded gaze. You can’t believe you went over his employee profile. You would have remembered a face like his.

“You’re right. You are not alone in this ring of underground syndicates, frankly, not even the first to have been here. I took on a few of them. I’m not actively working to destroy the network that you work out of, I’m just doing my job. Why should I let thieves get away with it just because they’re good at what they do?” You stared at him as he spoke. You couldn't believe how much information he truly had, and how much more he would surely not reveal to you. “I didn’t care about the other bunch, they were all dirty criminals doing it for the money with no real talent and no morals, so, fuck them, I’ll bust them when they step into my territory.” He lowered himself again, and now he was holding himself above you, arms on either side of your head. He was staring straight down into your eyes. “But then you appeared on my radar. I was surprised to see a woman in this line of business. That’s not common. I had to watch you closely. Maybe my own ignorance made me think that you would be out of play quicker than you even started, but when I discovered you had taken down two men larger than me and turned around a chokehold that surely would have killed you, I couldn't help but be impressed.”

You couldn't stop the scoff that escaped your lips. “Fuck you. You don’t know what I’m capable of. I worked my way up to where I am now.” Your sentence was cut short when he placed a rough hand on your chin, holding it in his palm.

“Shut up.” You ground your jaw, holding back snarky comments that would put you in a worse position. His demeaning command twisted your stomach in an unfamiliar way. “When I noticed your skill, as you needed to throw in there before I finished, I saw a challenge. I couldn’t just let it go.”

No words came out of your mouth right away, still trying to process his. You shook your head in confusion. “Challenge?”

“I like a woman that can put up a fight.” Leon said nothing more, daring you to stay something in retaliation. You kept your mouth shut, unsure of what kind of response you should even give. You squinted your eyes at him, but he didn't falter.

“What kind of job even is this?” His grin grew. The anger and frustration mixed with something foreign in your stomach. You curled your toes instinctively at this feeling. “Setting me up for failure just to wrestle me so you can get a workout?”

He shook his head slightly, that glint in his eyes not fading. “It’s not all about me, you know. You’re my challenge right now, yes, but I see something in you. I want you on my side.”

“Your side? Are there sides to be had here?” 

“Sure there is,” His voice dropped to a low whisper now. You realized in that moment how quiet the room was. After the altercation the two of you had, you concluded it must be soundproof. There would have been a guard here by now. “You can fight. You're a spy. You’re practically invisible. That would be so useful to me. With me. I can give you that, you won’t have to worry about the inevitable end of this.”

You finally brought your hands down by your sides, and he didn’t move to stop you. “Here? You want to offer me the occasional chance of action from the museum?”

“You said it yourself.” His gaze hardened once more, and you suddenly remembered how harsh he was towards you five minutes ago. “I’m on the inside. I’m just as dirty as you guys are.” You stared, fighting the urge to gape your mouth. Someone on the inside, working right under everyone’s nose? “With me, I can make sure you’ll never face the threat of being shut down. Thrown in jail for years, for life. Carlos can’t do that.” You felt a twist at the mention of Carlos’ name, hoping he was alright.

You hated yourself for even letting that thought flick across your mind momentarily. You and Carlos were a team, he taught you everything, yes, but he had no other ‘ins’ in the world to protect you from the law. You were on your own in the field. He just directed you.

Leon had the connections. Leon worked with them. There was a chance that he really could keep you safe. 

“What’s…” You grit your teeth, and swallowed hard, hating this position. “What’s in it for me? I’d be losing what I worked for the last few years. Just to be under your belt now.”

He shook his head. “You’re not losing. You’re gaining.” He came dangerously close to your face, yet again, you didn't move away. “Trust me.” 

With nothing left to say to him, your body only had one way to react. You quickly hooked your left arm around Leon's neck, holding him in close, and using all the weight you could muster to flip positions with him. You could see in his face he was almost expecting this from you, yet he let it happen, and didn’t fight it. 

He let out a grunt as his back hit the ground, knowing his vest took most of the impact. You were now successfully above him, in between his spread legs, his arms splayed out on the sides. The arm that had been used as leverage around his neck was now holding you up, the other was poised threateningly at his collarbone, as if you were going to choke him at any second. 

But now, over him, though you felt triumph, you were at a loss for words again, still so muddled about the situation. Leon let the arrogant smile take over his features.

“We’d make a great pair, don’t you think?” 

A million emotions surged through your veins, making it even harder to focus, to find the right thing to say or do. The way he was looking up at you, those eyes, that face, you wanted to collapse and give it to what he was saying, but you would be damned if you gave in to any sort of manipulation from him. The job was already fucked. There was no money. It was a setup just to get you into his lair… for a lack of better word. He seemed to know the ins and outs of this building, yet, he was working underground for the same reasons, presumably, as you were. 

Fuck it, it doesn’t matter. There’s no job. You wouldn’t leave Carlos behind, but couldn’t you pretend?

Your hand gripped the collar of his shirt. “What’s the negotiation?” You mumbled. You tried your best to keep the intimidating look in your eye, but you were afraid Leon never even saw it in the first place.

He breathed out a small laugh. It infuriated you, but sent a chill down your spine. “Can’t we worry about the price later?”

You sighed, and pushed yourself off of him using his body to boost you. He grunted. On your knees now, you said, “You did all of this to get me to work with you and you won’t even tell me what your prices are?”

He followed your lead, and pushed himself off the floor with ease. He was now sitting up, staring you directly in the eye. “I’ve got a different asking price right now.” His voice became low, and you stiffened. It wasn’t every day on the field that you were met with a master tempter. Leon knew what he was doing now, and it all started to make sense to you. Regardless of if he really wanted you on his team or not, he kept an eye on you for weeks, months potentially, he brought you in here for one reason, and maybe one reason only. 

“What makes you so sure I’ll accept?” You whispered, not able to find the courage anymore to speak properly. 

“I think I just know. Am I wrong?” He stared deep into your eyes, yet another challenge. The challenges never seemed to end with him.

And, despite everything, you knew he wasn’t. You could feel it inside of you, he was right. You were about to accept his not-so-professional asking price, and you wanted to hate yourself for even giving in, but you couldn’t. You just couldn’t feel anything except eagerness. 

You breathed in shakily, frozen in your spot, wanting him to do something first, but he was just letting you fall apart slowly under his gaze, most likely enjoying watching your reaction to a simple stare. You ground your jaw together, resorting to only shaking your head. “Cocky bastard.” 

He laughed out loud once. “You got that right.” 

It seemed he had it now, not giving you time to start anything that you couldn’t move to do. With a solid palm, he pushed backwards onto your chest, sending you into the floor again. You caught yourself with your forearms and could only stare up at him as he towered over you on his knees, looking more intimidating than he did with a gun pointed at your face.

Leon brought one of his hands down to raid your holders strapped around your waist, pulling the knives free and flipping one open. Your breath caught for a second when he brought it to your neck, but then released even more unsteadily when he gripped your collar in the other hand and tore the blade through the spandex fabric of your bodysuit.

You gasped when the air hit your skin, shielded by the temperature regulating fabric, feeling more exposed than you ever had on a mission before. Of course, you figured, you decided a long time ago that the most comfortable way to don the bodysuit was with as little resistance as possible, so as soon as Leon tore the fabric apart from the middle, yourbare chest was on display for him. You felt heat run through your body, from embarrassment and the arousal that you couldn’t stop.

If it was even possible, his eyes grew darker with emotion previously undetected, and his grip on the bodysuit fragments that he was holding onto tightened endlessly, still tugging them off your body as far as they could go. 

He let go, your sleeves still intact, nipples hardening, before continuing to tear it apart lower, until you felt the crotch seams rip right under you, and as shocked by his actions as you were, you were doing nothing to stop it. You tried to tell yourself you wanted to stop him, but you knew yourself better than that by now. He would have been on the ground before he could have even held the knife to your throat.

If he was a mind reader, it wouldn’t have shocked you to find that out anymore. “Just gonna lay there and let me do this to you? Maybe I overestimated your skill.”

It was one thing to be flayed out by someone you didn’t know, another to be held at gunpoint during a mission, but an entirely different field to be insulted by the person who performed all said acts. 

“You don’t know anything about my skill. I guess saying you’ve been watching me was a lie.” You pushed yourself up onto your elbows, not even caring about your physical state anymore. Using your left arm, you sat further up, pushing Leon backwards with your right, and delivered him right onto his ass. “You think I can’t take charge of a situation?”

He looked up at you, not ready to physically retaliate. “I think you can, only when the person is letting you do so.”

You grabbed a hold of the gaiter still slung around his neck, and suddenly you were inches away from him. “I’m not letting you make me think that you’re allowing me to do anything. If watching me wasn’t a lie, you’d know I’m a lot more capable than what I’ve just let you do.”

He tilted his head sideways, clearly liking the new lack of distance between the two of you. “Then prove it.”

You decided to make a bold move. Repositioning your legs so you were now on top of him, you dropped yourself to sit right in his lap, feeling exactly what you were expecting. He groaned, finally not expecting something from you, and with a victorious smile, you fell lower, grinding into his erection with all your body weight. His hands instinctively went to claw at your thighs, the grip so tight it almost stopped you from moving, and his breathing became ragged.

“You give this treatment to every criminal that breaks into here?”

Leon laughed through the breaths. “I never get to them first to do this.” As you continued to gyrate on his lap, his eyes fell shut and his head rolled back, thumping on the wall behind him. His hands snaked up your legs, fingers toying the edges of the ripped fabric of his doing, and he pulled it further, trying to unsheath you as much as he could.

“Then allow me to make sure the rest of your criminals are forgettable.” You snaked your arms around his torso, letting him pull you loose from the sleeves of your bodysuit. Now free, you kept your grip firmly on his biceps, your own body weakening at the realization of how strong they felt. 

As badly as you wanted to free them, as badly as you wanted to see him underneath his armor, you wanted to see it when he took you. You needed to look up at his gear and see his hardened face, the strong bodyguard who made you submit.

He continued with his deep groans the more you ground down on his hard cock, and you could feel it yourself through his pants. Leon’s efforts made it so you had barely anything protecting you, and all that stood in the way were his thick pants. You wanted to free him from his constraints, but you wanted to be a tease about it.

“I hope you had a plan for this, because I’m not obeying someone who wanted to kill me.” You had yourself steady by gripping his knees with your hands, leaning back, his eyes never peeled away from your breasts, out in the open.

He took a hand and placed it over your hip, large and warm, and it sent a wave of heat straight to your core, sure you were wet through your panties now.

“So now you want me to take charge, after going on about your own strengths, huh…” He squeezed his hand over your hip, and it made you squirm.

You basically hopped up and slammed yourself down on his lap, just wanting to make him suffer. “You’ll do what I say, and we’ll see who's listening to orders.” Your motion had made him whine as predicted, and you carefully studied his face as it was scrunched up, mostly in pleasure, probably some in pain.

“Then what?” He half whispered out at you. “Tell me what to do, then.” His hands made their way up to your chest, squeezing delicately, but enough to arch your back into his touch. His other was seated on your thigh, the pressure of his fingertips increasing by the second.

You leaned in close to him, inches away, enough to taste him if you so pleased, but you waited. “Why don’t you treat me like the criminal I am?”

A shudder visibly flowed through his body at your words, the back of his head hit the wall again. The hand on your thigh was now on your throat, not tightening just yet, but with enough sturdiness to keep you in your place. Your whole body was on the move now as Leon shifted his weight, and once again, you found yourself with your back on the floor, staring up at him towering over you. Though you had already been aware of it, your nakedness became prominent in this moment, realizing Leon’s neck and face were all you could see of his skin.

“Don’t think I’ll be gentle then,” He barked out at you, having shaken off the pleasure from you grinding down on him.

You smirked, watching him finally take his gloves off, having nothing to say, but only (oddly) excited about the new course of action. He stopped bothering with trying to get the rest of your clothes off, having opened up enough room for him to work in. You thought he was most definitely either going to push your panties aside for access or cut them off, and as turned on as you knew you would be if he did the latter, you still had to leave this place after this.

“Take my belt off.” He was rigid after flinging his gloves aside, giving you orders to obey. Keeping your back square on the ground, raising only your arms, your fingers worked swiftly to undo the belt buckle, pulling the leather through the metal and setting it free. You looked up into his eyes, which were boring holes into you, and when he made no other movement, you continued to his button and zipper.

When your hand made contact with the fabric you saw the jump his cock made at the friction, even barely there. He let out a soft, shaky breath at you working it open, never losing his composure. The rigid tent right in front of your face was long and thick, and you had to get your hands on it faster than yours could work themselves.

Finally undone, you pushed the opening aside and pulled down the elastic band of his underwear, his facial expression never changing, up until you wrapped your hand around the base of his dick, now out in the open, and he groaned. He wrapped one of his own hands around your wrist, a plea not to move it, but you ignored it, and brought yourself to a sitting position so his head was lined up with the tip of your tongue.

“You want to suck it too, like a whore?” Leon’s other hand found solace in the back of your head, fingers tangling up your hair to get a steady grip. The pull made you wince, but you silenced the feeling by running your flat tongue along the underside of his dick, swiping along the head and letting the precum sit in your mouth.

A deep sigh was the result of your actions, and everything he did only egged you on. You felt him adding force to your head to move, but again, moved at your own pace, letting your tongue trace the indents and veins, letting your hand massage the base while your other was on the floor, holding you upright.

The anticipation alone of this moment could have filled your mouth with saliva, and the throbbing cock in front of you only added to help it. You opened your wet mouth and seated your lips around the tip, feeling that push on the back of your head again. Your tongue swirled endlessly, dragging up and down the slit, pushing more of the precum to the back of your throat, and finally, when you decided you had had enough, you slid his length as far back as you could go, a heavy breath coming from above you when you bottomed out. 

His grip on your hair became shaky, and his breathing never righted again the more you took him into your mouth, bringing him closer to orgasm. The friction lightened up with your saliva around the base, your hand becoming covered in it, the sickening sucking noises sending sparks straight down to your pussy, which was begging to be touched, but you had to push Leon to the edge first. 

You could feel his legs starting to buckle, but you pushed on, knowing he would stop you before he could cum in your mouth. As much as you wanted to bring him to that, you wanted to be pleasured by him first.

With one more deepthroat, stifling a gag and feeling his hand lift from your hair, he pulled himself out of your mouth, strings of saliva connecting his head to your lips. 

He took a deep breath in, looking down at you, almost spent but so much more to give.

With no warning, his hand was back on your throat, pushing you backwards into the floor once more. This time, the pressure was enough to constrict your breathing slightly, and you wrapped a hand around his thick forearm. 

“You weren’t getting off the hook that easily,” Even with the breathiness he was speaking through, his face still showed all the authoritative attitude that he had in the first five minutes of your encounter. At this angle, the shadows on his face made him even scarier, but you felt nothing except turned on by him. Strands of gelled hair fell forward onto his forehead, a glisten of sweat decorated his skin.

“Maybe this was your plan the whole time,” He continued, the hand on your throat not allowing you to speak, but giving you enough air to be satisfied. Your breath hitched when you felt him pull your panties to the side, and deliver a rough sensation to your sensitive clit. “You knew the treatment you’d get by crossing me.”

One finger, then two, and surely your slick was in a pool on the floor by now. His appendages had no resistance as they slid in and out of you, hitting your soft walls, arching your hips to get more and more, but he had you at bay, and he knew it.

“You like this, huh?” Leon brought himself closer to your face, lips just a hair away from yours, but he wouldn’t kiss you. “You like being treated like a slut?” You took another restricted breath in when he returned to your clit, massaging it in circles, making your pussy ache even more. “Answer me.” 

A choked out sob came out of you before, “Yes, I do…” and you felt your face heating up at the force of making you degrade yourself. 

“Yeah, I can tell, you’re so wet I should’ve just fucked you the moment I caught you.” He was growling at you now, and it did nothing but send you into pure bliss at his treatment. “Maybe you’ll learn another lesson or two, one they could never teach you.”

Between the stimulation on your clit and the hand on your throat, a tear slipped out of your eye, but you were anything but dissatisfied. He raised himself, removed his hand (much to your displeasure), and readjusted himself, cock lined up square with your heat.

“Open your mouth.” You did as you were told, and he spit directly into your open mouth, and at the distraction of that, he slid into you.

Your jaw hung slack as he made his way in, you could feel the way his cock was stretching your walls wide, your pussy was so wet it made it easier than you were expecting it to be. Your eyes rolled back, not being able to help the way your eyelids fluttered closed, eyebrows furrowing, fingernails surely cutting Leon’s skin through his sleeves where you gripped him hard.

The stretch was immaculate, it burned and it felt like you were on fire, but none of it made you want to tell him to stop. Skin to skin contact was made on your clit when he was all the way in, you felt so full you could barely breathe, and your clit was sending rocket fire signals to your brain, it made you writhe with the sensations.

You gasped, the drag out feeling just as good as the shove in, and you cried out through the constriction around your throat, “Leon… fuck,”

Leon grunted at your appraisal, you felt the fingers over your neck twitch, knowing he was holding himself back from using all the strength he had in his one hand. You tried your hardest to pry your eyes open, you needed to see him.

“You’re such a slut, letting yourself get fucked to get out of trouble,” He spit out at you in between hard thrusts and heavy breathing. You practically felt the tip of his dick hit your stomach every time he thrust in, and from the sounds alone, you knew it had you soaked. You already knew he was a big man, but watching him in his bulletproof gear had you even weaker than you were before, this big heavy guard taking advantage of you, using you, and you loved it.

Your legs wrapped around his torso, hoisting your hips up to feel more, get him deeper, if it was even possible. 

You could barely even breathe, every move that Leon made inside of you made your head spin, every noise he made turned you to jelly, every thrust had you whining so hard you were sure you were going to lose your voice. 

The pressure on your throat lifted, and the sharp intake of cold air down your windpipes made you dizzy. Opening your eyes, Leon was now back to his position on his knees, still fully sheathed inside of you, and with a slick motion, and the wettest sounds you had ever heard from yourself, he slid out, leaving you empty.

You didn’t even have time to process the movement before Leon had his hand on your arms and was turning you over, bare chest to the cold floor, and you unintentionally shuddered. Using your arms to the best of your ability to hold yourself up, you felt them shake violently, and knew they would give out any time soon. 

Looking up, you saw Leon reach forward and pull his discarded jacket down from the back of the chair, sliding it under your head, and pressing you back down by the nape of your neck. You couldn’t help but moan.

Strong hands settled on your hips, and you had to bite the material under you to muffle the scream as Leon pushed himself back into you, every nerve on fire as he hit the deepest spots you didn’t know existed. This time, he was relentless, like he promised.

You could barely hear him through your own screaming and whining.

“Take it like a whore, I know you can…” A slap to your ass, more tears from your eyes. “Fuck, so good, you’ll learn now…” Hands in your hair, pulling your head up. “I’m gonna fill you up, like a fucking slut,” 

Barely processing anymore, your head a mess and eyes full of tears, you only registered the small change when you felt his arm around your waist, fingers teasing circles into your clit while still pounding into your pussy, still getting wetter by the second. The new feeling had your legs spreading wider for him, further weakening you, your thighs shaking with a strong timber you know no man had ever given you before.

“L-Leon…” It didn’t even sound like words anymore at this point, but Leon got the idea. He pressed harder into the soft nub, making you bite back into his jacket and moan loudly. 

“Come on, I know you can cum for me,” Two more thrusts had him in, and you felt the shaft of his cock pulsing erratically inside of you as he released his seed in you, not waiting for you to say he could or not, but knowing he was going to anyway. 

The feeling of being filled to the brink was what send you over the edge, his fingers still making work and his dick milking itself dry inside of your tight walls had you clenching around it, ragged breaths taking your body hostage as white flashed before your eyelids, and Leon knew he had made you finish, especially in the way your body crumpled underneath him.

Swallowing hard, your throat dry, you slowly came back to reality, and your vision cleared. You felt hands on your waist, slowly rolling you over to lay on your back.

Leon was positioned over you, edge in his eyes long gone, face shiny and slick from sweating, all his hair nearly limp over his face. He looked like a completely different person.

“Are you alright?” Still not knowing if you can speak, you nodded, letting your mouth re-salivate. He pinched your chin delicately between his forefinger and thumb, moving your head to the side to expose your neck. “If I bruised you, I didn’t mean to.”

You shook your head. “It will give me something to cover my disappearance with.” You had no idea how long it had been, but with no contact to Carlos back at base, you wouldn’t be surprised if your entire team flanked the building at this very second to rescue you. Now how to get out with an entirely ripped bodysuit…

“Consider my offer.” Leon mumbled, clear enough to hear, but low enough to hear his exertion. “I was serious.”

You blinked slowly at him, not seeing his expression change at his offer. “If I accept, I’m not a criminal you’ll have to put in place anymore.”

At this, he smiled, and dipped his head down to kiss you again, possibly one of the only times he had that night.

“Honey,” He pulled away. “You’ll always be a criminal.”

[bossidiotart]

Part 2 of this. @endlesslogo tagging you in case you wanna read part 2 of the story inspired by your art

Donnie stared down at his chiming phone. A number he didn’t recognise lit up the top. After the third ring, he turned off his phone and pocketed it. If it’s anything truly important, the caller could just leave a message. He turned back to his project and continued soldering.

The clock on his vambrace screen reads nearly 3am. He wonders if Leo had managed to go to sleep. He hasn’t come in to pester him all night long. Good. It’s always a good sign when Leo finally gets to sleep. Hopefully he’s getting a restful sleep and peaceful dreams.

Yet..something in the back of his mind is nagging at him.

The notification for a voicemail sounded in his pocket. Guess whoever was calling had something important to say. Likelihoods of what it could be played in his mind as he set down the solder and pulled out his phone again. He opened it and went into his voicemail. He tapped on the transcript.

Donnie. Donnie, please, come get me.

..huh?

I don’t know where I am or how I got here, but…

Donnie tapped the play button and put it on speaker. There was silence and some sort of static at first.

“Donnie.”

The soft shell’s blood ran cold. Leo? Donnie listened to the message that was transcribed, still as a statue. Leo sounded terrified. His voice shook and was hushed as though he were hiding from something.

“-or-or how I got here, but-“

A deep rumble that almost sounded like thunder emitted, pulling a gasp out of his brother. A pause that felt like an hour long stretched out. Then, a horrific scream. It chilled Donnie to the bone and made him want to hide deep inside a hole. Another scream joined in; Donnie realised with horror that it’s Leo screaming. A loud crash, and the voicemail cut out.

Ear-splitting silence settled. Donnie sat paralysed. He jolted and swiped at his vambrace. The trackers blipped on screen, and he immediately searched for Leo’s.

…wait, what?

His tracker is in his room. That’s not possible. Unless…

Donnie dashed out of his lab, leaping down stairs and hurdling over unpacked boxes. Leo’s room soon came into sight; he slid in front of the door and threw it open.

“Leo?!”

He quickly scanned the room. His eyes landed on the sleeping form of his twin. Confusion settled in his mind like sticky, melted marshmallow. What the fuck? Leo’s here? But the voicemail…

Annoyance bubbled. He stomped into Leo’s room.

“Nardo, if this is some kind of sick prank, I’m really not in the mood.” Donnie shook his allegedly sleeping brother. “Come on, dum-dum, I know you’re not actually asleep. What the hell was that voicemail?” He shook him harder. Annoyance built. “Nardo! Leo, wake up!” He still doesn’t stir. Donnie scoffed and pulled Leo onto his back. The slider’s eyes remain closed, his face slack. The elder pulled the younger’s eyelids apart. Donnie’s eyes widened. That’s…not normal.

The pupil in Leo’s eye had blown so wide he could hardly see the reddish iris. Donnie let go of the eyelids and opened the other eye. Same thing. This.. this cannot be good. He pulled out his phone, turned on the flashlight and shone it in Leo’s eye. It didn’t react. Oh, this is definitely not good. Donnie chewed on his lip as he tested Leo’s other eye, getting the same result. What to do, what to do.

Leo is alive, thankfully. He’ll have to check his vitals to be sure he’s truly alright, however. Donnie glanced at the time on his phone screen. Nearly 3:30am. Raph won’t be up for another 3 to 4 hours. Donnie took in a breath, cornered a resolve, and scooped Leo up from his bed. The soft shell trotted down to the med bay, his stomach twisting at how limp his brother is. He shouldered his way into the med bay and set Leo down on the bed. His heart pounded as he tested Leo’s vitals. With each one that passes, he feels a little better but at the same time worse.

Donnie slapped a wrist monitor on him and fell into a nearby chair. His vision zeroed in on the monitor until it was all he could see. Resting heart rate is normal. Rhythm is normal. He instinctively slipped his hand into his sweater pocket and pulled out his phone. He reopened the phone app; he stared at the number Leo called from. He tapped on it and brought it up to his ear.

“The number you have reached-“

It didn’t even ring.

Donnie hung up. He shoved his phone back into his pocket and stared hard at the wrist monitor. Leo’s stupid heart mockingly beat at its normal rhythm. Donnie’s pocket buzzed and burst out into song.

The soft shell yanked his phone out and stared at the unknown number on the screen. His heart pounded. His hands trembled. He hit the green button and held it to his ear.

“…hello?”

“Ohmigosh thank the spirits you picked up!” Leo’s unmistakable voice came through the speaker. “You got my voicemail, right??”

Donnie swallowed against the confusion and fear as he stared at his comatose twin in front of him.

“I did.”

“Great! So you guys are on your way, right?”

Donnie stared at his brother’s still form.

“Don? You guys are coming to get me, right?”

“Uh…”

“Donnie?” Panic edged Leo’s voice. Donnie took a breath.

“We…can’t find you.”

“…what?”

Donnie gnawed on the inside of his cheek.

“I mean, something’s up with your tracker. I can’t pinpoint your location.” Donnie’s leg bounced a hundred times a second. “Can you see any landmarks where you are?”

“Uhhhh.” Leo’s voice faded some as Donnie imagined him moving away from the phone to look. “Not really. It’s mostly trees, streetlights, and an empty road.”

“That’s not much to go off on...” Donnie muttered. His eyes flicked up, and his heart seized at the sight of his unconscious brother. Right, his actual brother is in front of him. But what about the one on the phone..?

He could try to trace the call, but what if it only points to the Leo in the med bed? Only one way to find out…

“Stay on the line, Leo, I’m going to try and trace this call.” Donnie pressed his phone between his head and shoulder as he typed on his vambrace.

“I ain’t going any-“ A distant rumbling sound cut him off. “Shit. On second thought, I gotta run. I’ll try to find another phone.” Click.

Donnie sat in silence. His fingers hovered over the vambrace screen. It blinked at him. His eyes stayed glued to the screen. His mind spun every which way in baffled attempts to explain. This…it’s not possible. He looked once more at his comatose brother. What have you gotten yourself into, Leo? On his vambrace, the screen continued blinking as a dot pinged over the med bay.

Part 3

[nvuy]

would u ever write jy w/ a reader who was a part of the high cloud quintet? ig u would say sextet here (insert sex joke) but just curious!!!

i would, maybe. i have this idea of a very short fic bordering on less than 10 chapters if possible surrounding the idea, though.

like something to do with lan, how they pierced the sky, and you are a piece of it that holds the skies together for the xianzhou. something like that.

it would be unbridled angst because i can. this post is so fucking long sorry. i definitely don’t have problems…

i think what would hurt the most is that jingliu would’ve accepted you into the hcq had you been able to join them.

something something, you wanted to stay, but if you remained here, the sky wouldn’t be able to hold itself together anymore, and the stars would fall, and the xianzhou would perish. so, you return to the sky, and hold it together, because that’s what you are: a fragment of the stars.

you definitely knew them all.

yingxing crafted you a weapon on the basis that maybe if he finished it, you’d return. dan feng would be so so happy to see you again, with that pleasant little smile he always wore (and sometimes if he thinks it’s appropriate he’ll let you examine his tail).

you did not return. not in his lifetime, at least.

jingliu would’ve trained you in the art of the sword. not to the extent of jing yuan, but enough to put up a decent fight. so, if none of them were there to help you, at least you could help yourself.

baiheng would’ve been like the fun aunt, to be honest. always up for a good chat, telling you stories about her travels across the galaxy. throws in a little “don’t tell jingliu, but i think you’d be better at archery, than swordsmanship.”

and jing yuan, oh boy. you two would always sneak away and talk and lie together and be idiots. he’s young, only barely creeping towards one hundred, but so are you, and he brings you to places he loves to show them to you.

there’s one particular spot he loves more than the rest.

there’s a little path in an abandoned stretch of trees towards the edge of the luofu ship. the path is barely visible amidst the tall grass, but jing yuan shows you through every step of the way until you both come into a clearing. it’s a field of flowers. private, closed off, with enough sunlight to keep the area warm. and it’s beautiful.

if you die, jing yuan buries you there. he also buries what remained of baiheng, and carves yingxing, jingliu, and dan feng’s names into headstones as a memoir of the past.

if you do return, for whatever reason it may be, it has been centuries. centuries are long enough to forget, as everything yields to time. wherever you have been, it has been long enough to forget.

returning is odd. the xianzhou luofu has changed, as have the other ships. you’re not sure how long it has been, and you’re not sure why you’re trekking this particular path. it feels familiar, and you have the faintest notion that there is supposed to be someone at the end of wherever this path leads.

who it is, you’re not sure. perhaps, if they are there, they can provide you an answer. maybe they can even tell you who you are, and what purpose you serve, other than to keep the sky together.

jing yuan never changed this area. not only was it his favourite, but he, as well as his old friends, had clung to the idea that you would return eventually.

if he changed it, jing yuan feared you’d forget even more than you already had. so, he kept it the same.

at the end of the path, for your first return is not a person. there’s nobody here, but four headstones buried in the grass. you read the names, but there is nothing. you don’t remember these people, but still your heart twists, as if you should have known them.

so, with grief heavy in your heart, you return to the sky.

the next time you return is because you realise you’re forgetting again, though it is one hundred years later. you walk down the same path because it is familiar, expecting to see someone, or something.

you see both. a man, and four headstones. you don’t recognise him, but it must have been the person you’ve sought, for you only had the faintest idea that there should’ve been somebody here. so, it must be him.

you explain to the stranger you feel as though you should recognise him, but you don’t. you also tell him his eyes are like the sunlight in the sky.

to that, he responds that you’ve told him that before. and you have. many, many times and many, many years ago.

jing yuan knows you can’t stay here, but it has been such a long time since he’s seen your face. so, he lets you examine the headstones as you did centuries ago.

he wasn’t there that day. the sky had darkened on the days you first returned, and though jing yuan had an inkling of an idea it had something to do with you, he had been bested by his own mind at the thought that you were gone, and had thus disappeared to grieve by himself.

truly, today, he came to grieve once the sky darkened again. seeing you here was not what he expected.

you ask him questions that visit. about the people beneath the soil—he responds that there aren’t any bodies buried here. baiheng’s body withered, dan feng never truly died, and neither did jingliu or yingxing.

“they all float aimlessly,” he tells you. “baiheng is gone. dan feng has a new identity, and what existed before is lost. jingliu and yingxing’s minds are scattered to the clouds. i cannot say what they will do if you cross paths, or whether they will remember you.”

you ask if you can meet them someday, as perhaps maybe one of them can jog your memory. jing yuan promises it is a possibility, but it is nearing impossible. fate will draw your paths together, he deduces. one day.

so, after a while, he tells you to return to the skies. it hurts, because he wants you to stay. he wants to tell you everything you did together. why you would trek this path, and only this path, and who the headstones were once. but he can’t, and so you return once more.

it is an endless cycle of you returning once you’ve realised you’ve forgotten the man who waits for you at the end of that path. an all too familiar path that seems new, but somewhere, you know you’ve walked along it before. sometimes it is only fifty years, sometimes it is two hundred, but jing yuan ensured that he is always there to greet you.

he tells yanqing of you one day. that’s only because he knows he won’t be around forever. he will be mara-stricken, or perhaps he will be killed in battle, but whatever it is, he tells yanqing, as his retainer and potential successor, to take over this position, and to pass it onto his successor, and then generations will pass.

but, for the moment, each time you return, jing yuan remains. and jing yuan promises you, though he knows you will forget, that when he does inevitably perish, he will find a way to join you in the skies.

dan heng asked him once after learning of you if it is difficult to love someone who you cannot be with.

jing yuan replied it’s easy. and it is easy, because every time the sky shifts from night to day, and the sun rises, and the clouds pass, he knows you’re up there, and you’re safe.

tldr: batty old general jing yuan talks to the clouds sometimes.

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

I'm soooo sorry you're under the weather and dealing with crappy stuff! I hope things get better for you, physically and mentally 🙏 Get lots of rest if you can, and drink all the fluids!

Headcanon requests, is it? How about the OPLA men (Shanks & Mihawk, but also take your pick, etc) with a multi-tasking reader who delights in various hobbies to keep busy, and occasionally drags them into getting involved? Whether it be container gardening, knitting, baking, sewing, artwork, etc.

Bonus if they're also contending with where exactly reader stores all of her crap when it's not in use, not at all guilty of this myself 🙈🤣

Thank you so, so, so much. It’s been a really bad day and this has honestly helped a lot.

Like I feel this hard. There’s guitar picks and tuning peg winders and little notebooks full of story notes and recipes and origami scattered all over my house.

Just gonna do Shanks and Mihawk this time, because they very much are my main comfort characters right now.

The fact that one of my comfort characters is so murdery probably does not say good things for my mental health but whatever

Hobbies

OPLA! Shanks and Mihawk x Reader

Cloyingly fluffy, here is a spoon with which to gag yourself, just in case c>===

Shanks

He is absolutely so game for all of this.

Such a child about it, if you’re trying to do anything new he’s just so excited about it and needs to know everything.

Completely in your business, asking ten thousand questions, along with the inevitable starry-eyed, “Can I help?”

And you’d have to be heartless to turn down those puppy-dog eyes.

It might not turn out to be his thing, and he might get in the way more than he actually helps, but he’s going to enjoy the experience with you regardless, and his enthusiasm is just so precious that it makes it more fun for you as well.

The exception here is knitting. Knitting can get fucked. He tried, holding one needle in his hand and the other between his teeth, and somehow ended up nearly giving himself a tracheotomy.

But if you knit, sew, or crochet something for him, he’s going to unironically wear it everywhere and brag about it to anyone who will listen.

Baking, though, turns out he has something of a knack for it. And now his go-to solution if you’re sad or upset about something is to bake you cookies, because “How can anyone be sad when there are cookies?” And, well, he’s not entirely wrong.

The captain’s cabin is just completely cluttered with arts and crafts supplies, with so many signs and knickknacks of your many and varied hobbies, and he sincerely loves it because there’s just so much of you everywhere he looks. He’s always felt at home on the sea, but this just makes it feel even more like home.

Mihawk

Not quite as perceptive to participating. He might if you ask him, but some things might take convincing.

He’s an utter perfectionist about everything, so if you do convince him to try anything, he’s probably going to fixate on it until he’s a certified expert and compete with you over who’s better at it.

More refined and traditional artistic endeavors definitely appeal to him more—you could probably convince him to try painting or drawing pretty easily, but things like sewing or crocheting are going to be a little more of a stretch.

Gardening in general is honestly fine as well, container or otherwise.  The more you can grow on the island or around the castle, the less he has to concern himself with leaving to deal with other people. And it is fairly convenient to have fresh herbs growing right in the kitchen.

Fairly adept at cooking already—he’s spent most of his life in solitude, so cooking for himself was something of a necessity. Baking isn’t exactly his forte, but he will partake if you ask him to.

He acts like the clutter of your supplies irritates him, but really only so he can give you a room or two of the castle dedicated solely to your hobbies. No point looking a gift horse in the mouth, and you know he’s just being surly to protect his pride.

You know because even if he isn’t interested in it himself, he does enjoy watching you work, sitting off to the side with a book and a glass of wine, glancing up every so often to see your progress.

[radiation]

Ok here are my brief thoughts on Mouthwashing. SPOILERS WARNING And mostly negative sorry. Lots of things i liked but i think most ppl have said that stuff already so i wont repeat it

Loved the art direction, really loved the dialogue, I enjoyed the game a lot in the first half. Unfortunately towards the halfway point where it began leaning further into the horror game shit it really started losing me. The gameplay segments where you get chased around by something or other were seriously just horrendously, horrendously badly designed and a lot of the puzzles felt repetitive or inscrutable (Altho keep in mind I'm terrible at solving puzzles/finding shit in video games. When people talk about "yellow paint" I'm 100% who that shit is for)

It wasnt just the gameplay though, I also just wasn't a huge fan of the metaphorical / scary visuals / out-of-body experience stuff. I felt it slowed down the pace of events and put a barrier between me and the reality of the story being told. It rarely communicated new plot points and ideas and mostly restated information I'd already received verbally in an abstract way. Yes they were visually stunning, very technically impressive, and a few felt genuinely novel and well-placed (the reveal of the mouthwash ad on the TV fucking ruled), but I feel like for the most part those moments were almost obligatorily following modern indie horror game trends. I understand the point of that kind of stuff and it definitely can be effective, but idk i see it so much Im just personally very tired of it unless it really justifies its own existence, and in this case i unfortunately felt it didnt

I also didnt find the sort of "twist" with the main character very compelling and the more extreme his actions became the more I became disappointed. Like once you start getting a guy feeding another dude his own leg at a table with a bunch of dead ppl set on chairs with party hats on (even if its intended to be metaphorical) you have killed my suspension of disbelief. Especially since the character work at the beginning of the game felt a lot more grounded it was just like really. I get its horror but thats trite as fuck sorry.

A lot of this comes down to personal preference but if it were me Id have pared down the gameplay so its more towards the visual novel direction and made the scenario and character behaviors toward the end more grounded/real world so the horror comes more from the Real Fucked Up And Horrible Shit That Is Actually Happening, not the abstraction of it. I really found the character dialogue so much more compelling, original, and better at communicating ideas than the metaphorical visuals, so just own that instead. Like i personally wouldnt have had much of this stuff or any at all but again, definitely personal preference, so if it we're going middle ground -- horror visuals can still exist in some form, but i think would be better as a backdrop that fades in and out rather than being something that, in order to experience, you have to totally disengage with the story at hand for long stretches

Another thing I felt and like, sorry this is pretty mean, but as much as people praise the story it really isn't doing much of anything new or different. It's largely well-executed, but as far as sci-fi and horror goes, it's really quite generic. A well-put together combination of a handful of movies and games and whatnot, but rarely much more than the sum of its parts. The moments where it went beyond that were in the very real-life themes and the character work, which again got lost little by little due to its increasing insistence on being an indie horror game. The point for me isn't that everything has to be totally original and not at all contrived, like familiar ideas being well executed can be really really powerful, its more that with all the issues there were i didnt feel the story was strong enough to completely redeem it

Also slowly dawned on me that Anya is pretty much just shelley duvall and it started bothering me like i couldnt stop seeing it

+ I found the writing kind of misogynist. Anya isnt a bad character but if you look at all the individual points of her character its like wow you had to have the singular woman in the cast have literally all of those traits and all of those things happen to her? Its very like 1980s male auteur movie director type shit. And if the shelley duvall thing wasnt a total coincidence that like, especially does not put a good taste in my mouth

Also Swansea fucking rules best character eva

[averageclawcodeenjoyer]

Analyzing things in ATSV part one

Okay so I have to be absolutely insane about Ganke for a bit, so this will probably take up several posts because screenshots/videos galore.... ermmmmm....

HAVE FUN (will edit and update as needed)

I'm going to start off by analyzing this piece of concept art

Taking a look at Ganke's tapestry on his wall, that absolutely looks like the CS:GO logo, just flipped and without the text. Ex:

Taking a look at more things on the walls as well:

1) who is doing this math. Is it Ganke? Is it Miles? Is it both of them? I like to think that is is Ganke writing things down and then coming back to them later, or, maybe Miles writes things down and Ganke corrects them/adds stuff.

2) I'm pretty sure that says deadly twins. Is this a game? Movie? A play on words? Makes me think of seven deadly sins, but I'm not too knowledgeable in the world of entertainment.

3) (not the jet) is this a schedule? Lunch schedule, perhaps? It's on the bulletin board in the final cut of their dorm as well, just redesigned. Has to be something school event related. It says "Spring 2023 Brooklyn ________ Academy." I can't make out the middle word.

4) I just like the little spider included in the drawing :3 Miles FOSHO draws all over the whiteboard all the time. I love it.

5) I love love LOVE the stickers he put on the drawers, and I'm guessing there also from video games, but again, not good with logos. If anyone knows though please tell me and I will put it on here.

6) I think it's neat that they have a poster of a bunch of cassette tapes on the door. That was definitely Miles's doing, as well as the record player that i found in there (it's his way of honoring Aaron.)

7) Peep the No Expectations drawing on Miles's side of the bunk. I love the little Easter eggs all over. This is so special to me. Makes me think of the Chekhov's gun principal that they did with the Spider in ITSV and are continuing in Across.

8) Ohhhhh so he's a soccer guy. I wonder if he likes the sport, players, or had played it himself. Maybe that's why he got buff, bit I doubt it (BRING ME BACK LOSER NERD CHUB GANKE)

9) Taking a look at the photographs that Ganke has and comparing them to what I could find in the final product. Ganke has a camera on his desk, so obviously he takes all of these himself, but we will get to that later.

10) This looks like a picture of himself to me. Self portrait. Look at that blurred out smile. It's either him, or one of his parents, but I'm guessing it's of himself. Did someone take that for him, or did he take it? Maybe it was Miles.

11) might again be a stretch, but it looks almost like two people leaning against each other. Headcanon that Ganke is just like Lilo and takes pictures of random people interacting for funsies (reminds me of them Gwen & Miles leaned on each other on the building but I have HIGH doubts it is that)

12) ..Again, just bullshitting here. But this reminds me of the scene from ITSV where Gwen and Miles first were introduced to each other. Could he totally off, but there were a lot of kids in the background that resembled and could have been Ganke. Who knows what that kid does in his free time. (I bet he has a lot of photos of Miles that he doesn't know about...)

13) i don't have any idea of what this could be but uhh.... we're open to discussion. Train???

14) Looks like a party. A school dance perhaps? Winter formal? Homecoming? Something. Reminds me of the Prom scene in Gwen's universe.

___

I absolutely love all the stuff they have in their dorm room for food. Those sillies!! Look at them! Eating dinner together! Fully equipped! Who owns this shit! Banking on Ganke owning most of it because like... just look at his fucking setup.

15) Here's that record player I was talking about!!!! I wonder if it's a brand new one of something Miles got when they went through Aaron's stuff after he died...

16) Coffee machine even though Ganke drinks like 7 energy drinks a day (this boys' coffee addiction is.... wow. Also personally I feel like Miles wouldn't really be too fond of coffee. Imagine if the caffeine messed with his venom strike and caused him to chock everything and himself a billion times lmao)

17) what is this???? Is this some kind of like.... portable burner, or something?????? So they can boil water/use a pan??????? If anybody knows it would be GREATLY appreciated.

18) We've seen the air fryer/rice cooker with googly eyes and I love that... oh, I bet that was Miles's doing. Maybe as a prank or a joke to mess with Ganke and they kept it. There's so much personality here.

19) ignoring the condiments for a moment- THEY AHVE A MINIFRIDGE???? DO THEY EVER NEED TO LEAVE THEIR DORM, ACTUALLY????? It almost looks like it has sparkling/seltzer water in it but.. gross. They really decked this place out, huh.

20) and in ITSV there's a microwave too. Everything to fuel Ganke's crippling chronically online illness.

21) SPRAY CANS!!!! Oh how wonderful. These are hidden/scattered throughout their finished dorm, too. I love that. I wonder if Ganke and Miles ever become delinquents and go off to graffiti stuff. (However, I don't see Ganke as being very artistic when it comes to things like that, so maybe he just tags along with Miles and acts as lookout.

22) FIDGET spinner!!!!!!! Oh boy. Oh boy. I know that these were a big thing a couple years back, but please consider... Audhd Ganke.... thank you.

23) is this an alarm clock? Radio???? Why do they need another source for music when they have like... three.. seperate ways.... okay.

24) You cannot convince me that this isn't Yoda. Or at least a similar character.. but I'm banking on Yoda. WHY DID THEY CHANGE SO MUCH STUFF THERE WAS SO MUCH PERSONALITY HEREEEEEEER

25) look at this slanted ass bowl. This supports something I will talk about later, but keep him in mind.

26) SKATEBOARD! Does Ganke skateboard??? Oh man. Oh boy. It's Canon because I said so. Skateboary Ganke!! You think he goes somewhere with Miles just to show off the tricks that he knows. I do. It's also his because it's leaning on his bed and there is a pretty clear separation of whose side of the room is whose.

27) Here is laptop #1

28) BIGASS speakers they deafen EVERYONE when they start playing music.

29) HIS FUCKING PC??? BROTHER, WHY DOES HE HAVE THAT EXPENSIVE ASS PIECE OF EQUIPMENT IN HIS DORM ROOM. WHAT DOES HE HAVE AT HOME?????? Bros got eh curved screen and everyrhing. Also is he making MUSIC. Ganke in his producer era (what genre do you think he makes?) Also, not pictured, but he has a Webcam, too. StreamerGanke....

30) HERES THAT CAMERA I MENTUONED EARLIER!!!! He has hobbies other than gaming like... photographing Miles.. and......... taking.. pictures of Miles..

31) is this some kind of console, maybe? We see him playing the Spider-Man 2 game, which is playable on both PC and Playstation, but I'm pretty sure it's confirmed that Ganke is, in fact, playing it on his ps5 (do not quote me on this that is what Google has told me...)

32) his professional-ass microphone.... pray that nobody ever finds out the kind of LOOT you have, Lee, or you will be robbed blind. (Not sure if this is still kept in the finished version, I'll have to check) ((also the stuff on his bulletin board? Brother.... broski you live with him.. you don't need to have him beside you on the daily))

33) This looks like an IPad to me, but I could br wrong. Also, he's watching Miles on it!!! COME ON. I know Spider-Man is his favorite superhero and all.. but come on, this is "person-who-has-crush-behavior" and I don't think that's too wild of me to say...

34) look at him with his little soundboard!! In the final version it ends up looking more like a keyboard than what it does right now, but he obviously makes music on the side as well. He's so dear to me.

35) This little drawer pulls out on his desk!! Where he stops his billionth keyboard and mouse. (In another angle of their dorm, in ITSV, their is a random unused keyboard propped up against the wall)

36) ANOTHER FUCKING LAPTOP. Bro has one for his games, one for school, one for talking to his online friends, and one for coding stg /hyperbolic

37) Here is the console for his computer. Simply that. Just astounding to me.

___

Just look at how much mire comfortable they are with each other now versus ITSV!!!!!! Good friends, good match, good sillies. The only thing I DONT like is the inconsistencies of the room... but perhaps they got a different dorm room this year and still chose to bed down together. Historians will just call them best friends.. rommates... anything but lovers.

Oh you thought I was done?

No.

No, I have one more thing to say.

One more tiny, tiny detail I fished out while studying their room.

Are you ready?

In the concept art.

Underneath Ganke's desk.

Is a bag.

And what's on that bag?

Some pins.

Oh but what's that?

That yellow one??

Is that the intersex flag?

Is that another game logo that I'm too uncultured to understand, is that just a coincidence, or, is Ganke intersex?

I don't know enough about people that are intersex to get into it, but.. Has anybody else noticed this?

I can't find it in the finished version... but. But guys. Guys.

Please tell me your thoughts on this.

I'm going to analyze that scene in ITSV with the hyperlapse of Miles sleeping and Ganke.. dicking off all night next. Might not be tomorrow but it will happen.

Edit:

I gave Ganke longer hair because he looks bald without it. THATS ALL BYE

Part 1.5