#dose of scott

[eluminium]

WILD LIFE IMPULSE MAKES ME SO WEIRDLY SAD GUYS ISTGGGGGG- MAYBE I'M JUST HIGH OFF OF MY OWN SUPPLY BUT MY GOD.

People treat him like he's somehow massively different from how he used to be, even some of his own allies. They think he's causing problems on purpose, they think he's intentionally being difficult and getting in the way of things. He's changed for the worse. But really, what HAS changed about Impulse in WL compared to earlier seasons? From what I've seen, it's only one thing.

He wants to win. He's made it known that he's aiming for that metaphorical crown. Outside of that one verbalized goal, Impulse has not changed in the slightest. He's still doing the things he's always done.

I mean, think about it. Is there anything Impulse has DONE (not said) that's especially mean, traitorish or troubling? The only thing I can think of is in this newest session (aka session 4) where he and Pearl do some minimal stealing from Joel and Gem, but this thievery is way after their reputations as troublemakers began! Really, the only thing you could argue before this is the cow situation in sessions 1-2, but come on. Accusing Gem and Joel of stealing their cows wasn't the biggest leap in the world, y'know? However, it is kind of unlike Impulse to lash out and accuse someone of something like that. He's usually pretty quiet about situations like this, instead choosing to stew in his frustrations and develop a grudge.

And I think that's what is making people uncomfortable in this season. Impulse speaking out. Impulse demanding things. Impulse making his wills and wants known. And it's something I find so tragic in all of this. People are uncomfortable and untrusting of Impulse because, for once in his god damn lives (many of them), he openly wants good things for himself. And they're not even unreasonable things! Of course, he wants to win, everybody wants to win! But because he never says what he wants normally, it's reminding people (especially allies) that he might have his own goals that could get in the way of their goals.

But, and this is probably the biggest tragedy of all, Impulse doesn't actually prioritize himself that much more than before. Yeah, he's louder than usual, but look at his actions. Anytime he's had to act on anything, he chooses to do more or less whats best for his team, instead of himself. He apologizes to Gem when instructed, he moves together with the rest of the 4Gs to the new base despite voicing how the old base was safer, he tries to clear the air with Ren despite the fact Ren killed him so they can have another ally against Grian (no gurantee the grudge won't come up again though, BUT FOR NOW).

And of course, he does what he always does. Works as hard as he can to make sure his team is as safe and armed as possible. I mean, he builds a creeper farm TWICE, he goes mining for diamonds and says out loud that he wants to get enough so ALL of them could have full diamond armour, he builds a chicken farm for them to have a reliable food source! He's still Impulse, doing what Impulse does best. Pearl even CALLS HIM OUT on this near the end of session 4, saying: "So Impulse, where's the chaos bone? Where is it? You've been too tame today, what's going on?". And Impulse rationalizes by pointing out he lost 3 lives last session and isn't willing to start something he can't finish and how he's "gearing up because this is the calm before the storm!"...and then instantly giving himself another grindy task to do next time in the form of going to the Nether to get resources.

Because he's just doing what he always does, falling back into the same team-pleasing behaviours. Because what he wants most isn't actually winning, despite what he tells himself. He wants someone to want him, to care about him. And the best way he knows how to make people care about him is to show how useful he can be to them. It also doubles as insurence, because if he cannot be wanted, the resources will make sure he will be needed. And if he cannot be needed...he'll let his team use him until there's nothing left of him, until there's no more purposes for him to have. Not because he wants that, in fact he'll usually say the opposite, but because it's the only thing he knows. Work, work, work and keep going because if he just puts in enough honest effort he can get anything he wants, right?

And this loops back to people being overly suspicious of him this season. Because people-pleasing, resource gathering, mild-mannered Impulse is the Impulse people are used too, and the Impulse that is the most useful to them. You can really see this almost subconcious mindset in the gossiping between Scott and Gem in session 4. They talk about how Impulse has a weird tone of voice this season, how he's causing problems, and how they miss the "kind and trustworthy" Impulse from Secret Life. But he's not that different, and he hasn't actually done anything major. Except for expressing his wants more than usual, especially his want to win. But that's already enough of a change in his behaviour to be a problem. Scott and Gem are longing for the Impulse who's an extremely useful and dedicated asset who will grind his ass off for the good of his team without anyone even asking, making sure they got everything they need to survive, but at the same time he doesn't get in the way. He doesn't cause any sort of problems, justified or not, and he doesn't have any wants of his own that could clash with their wants. This "new" Impulse who expresses his goals openly is a possible threat they have to account for, even if he's still mostly the same old reliable Impulse.

And in a depressing way, this makes sense, doesn't it? Imagine, in this death game of betrayal and opprotunism and paranoia, you have a person who gladly gets you everything you needed. Armour, weapons, potions, food, tools, farms, everything! Without even having to be pushed at all! In fact, he's all the more happy to get you something if you ask! And he barely asks for anything in return in comparison. You can more or less pay him in a job well done, and he'll be satisfied. He's easy to mold, easy to incorprate into your goals and wants. Isn't that so nice? So reliable? You have 99 problems but at least this isn't one! Now you have something safe to cling onto in all this chaos.

...Now imagine if that ally suddenly started talking about what HE wants. He starts making demands, standing up for himself, and letting his anger come out. No matter how small these moments are, it's gonna throw you for a loop! Why would he act like this when he never has before? Why would he suddenly start having goals that aren't yours? Why is he confronting you about something you didn't even do instead of grumbling in a corner for a bit? Now he might be a problem, his goals could directly clash with yours. Actually, the fact he's doing this at all means he's up to something. I mean, the motivation has to come from somewhere! Now you hear it in his tone, in his speech patterns, in every moment he doesn't completely roll over for you, and even in the moments he does! He could be a threat now, and you don't like that. You miss the old version of your ally. He's broken now, he needs to be fixed. Keep working with him so he'll revert back to who he used to be, back to when he was quiet. Jokingly call it therapy while you're at it.

IT MAKES SENSE. AND IT SADDENS ME SO MUCH. ESPECIALLY WHEN IMPULSE ISN'T EVEN GAINING ANYTHING FROM THIS BECAUSE HE'S ACTUALLY NOT WORKING FOR HIMSELF AT ALL. HE'S BEEN LABELED A PROBLEM BECAUSE HIS PERSONAL GROWTH, HIM FINALLY TRYING TO PUT HIMSELF FIRST FOR ONCE, IS A THREAT TO HIS ENEMIES...AND HIS ALLIES.

Of course he isn't fully innocent in anything, nobody is, but it's just so sad how all of these factors, factors where no one really is in the wrong, work together to create a situation where Impulse has a reputation looming over his head that he can't even take advantage of. And it's in the season where he wants to win, too...WILD LIFE IMPULSE MY SPECIALIST LITTLE GUY....

[eluminium]

LUCKILY FOR YOU PEOPLE! THERE IS A CHANCE!

WIN FOR THE CORAL KIDS SUPPORTERS!

trying not to get my hopes up for coral kids because their interaction was very brief but also GOD. even just aesthetically that duo fucks like mad. imagine. mermaid/coral themed scott and roguish pirate martyn. imagine.

[owliellder]

The Finer Details

Post DI! Leon Kennedy x Painter f! Reader

MDNI 18+

(Session 1, Session 2, Session 3, Session 4, Session 5, The Reveal)

Description: Leon realizes that retirement is in his best interest now that he's getting older. All of his accomplishments as an agent mean he's truly earned a painting to commemorate..

Warnings: Not Proofread, Age gap! (reader is anywhere between mid-late 20's and Leon is 40), Porn w/ Plot, Use of she/her pronouns, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Alcoholism, mentions of trauma/PTSD/depression, P in V smut (wrap it NEOW), Leon cries during sex 💔

Tags: Older Leon Kennedy, Younger afab!Reader, Leon is SAD but he is your muse, Crying, mentions of Leon masturbating, starts off with Dom! Leon and Sub! Reader, falls into switch territory because that man needs some serious TLC, Praise kink, Hickeys, Handjob, Nipple play, Oral sex (m! and f! receiving), and a heavy dose of Aftercare

Author Note: You know how each president of the U.S. gets a painting at the end of their term? I'm thinking like that. Plus, my favorite hobby is recreating renaissance art, so I figured this was a good fit (hopefully).

Cross posted onto AO3

Session 1: The Sketches

It was late at night when Leon made his decision to retire fully.

He had gotten home over an hour ago from reviewing mountains of paperwork, most of which pertained to missions that other agents have gone on or will be going on.

Younger agents. More energized agents.

The fact that he hadn't gone on a full mission since San Francisco was driving him up the wall. But that's what he wanted. He requested to hang back the last two years.

Both Chris and Claire had fully retired themselves right after San Fran, Claire being the first to retire to focus on her growing family with Chris following suit only a few months later. Jill was still around, but she was doing similar work that Leon was, only she was in a completely different department which was states away.

Of course Leon still talked with them all as regularly as possible, he'd go insane if he didn't, especially with Claire having a couple kids now. He wasn't the greatest with children, but it was refreshing seeing his friends achieve such normalcy. He wanted them to have the best life they could away from everything.

Having turned 40 a few some months ago, Leon was having a bit of a mid-life crisis. The mission to San Francisco a couple years ago had made him realize just how much toll the job itself had taken on his body. After being assessed and allowed home a few nights after returning from the mission, his body ached; joints creaking, back nearly thrown, just... tired.

Don't get him wrong, he was always tired after missions, but this was different. This wasn't just the regular aches and pains he dealt with after being tossed around like a rag doll, this was age.

Deep in his mind, Leon was still that 21 year old boy in Raccoon City. He never got the chance to properly grieve and move on, his mind forever changed by that event. Mentally, he was stuck there and had been this entire time.

It had taken the man this long to truly recognize the fact that he's older now. He's not that boy from Raccoon City anymore. He hadn't been in a long time.

What was he do to now? Leon had wanted so badly to serve and protect the people, but not like this. Not like he has for the past 29 years.

He spent his most formative years fighting unimaginable horrors, watching people suffer, watching people die. You don't just come back from something like that.

And unlike the friends he's managed to keep close, Leon didn't have someone he trusted. Hell, he barely trusted himself most days.

So now here he was, sitting drunk in his shower with his legs pulled up to his chest, his arms resting atop his knees while the water pelted down on him, silently mulling over everything he's ever seen and done during his time as an agent.

The water had grown cold at this point, Leon having quickly lost track of how long he was sitting spaced out like that for. Thankfully, he'd already cleaned himself before he ended up sitting down, so the hardest part now was just standing back up to get himself back out.

It took him a couple more minutes before he finally hoisted himself up with a tired groan, both his knees popping from being stuck in position for such a lengthy amount of time.

Once out of the shower, towel loosely wrapped around his waist, Leon stared at himself in the mirror; busy studying the crow's feet on both outer corners of his eyes as well as the prominent bags sitting under them, the smile line around his mouth, his now brown hair, the stubble on his face and neck that's he's neglected to shave, and just how exhausted he looked.

How has he never noticed any of this before? Why's he look so different now?

Settling into bed after this brutal realization was a tough task. The man followed his nightly routine of taking four Tylenol and two of his prescription sleep meds before setting his a/c 65 degrees Fahrenheit. He learned quickly many years ago that tossing and turning at night would make him overheat and sweat.

But tonight, nothing Leon did could ease that sinking feeling in his chest, that feeling of unfulfillmemt and shame weighing on him more than ever before.

The poor man barely slept at all last night, hangover evident by the way he was still slightly uneven on his feet as he leaned over the center island in his kitchen, head between his forearms while his hands sat clasped together.

Leon knew what he had to do. He's been feeling it ever since Chris and Claire made their departure, but it was so easy to deny. How was he suppose to give up the one thing that made him important? Sure the stress of his work was heavily tasking on the mind and body, but it's what gave him purpose. He felt useful doing what he did.

The man showed up for work late that day, barely having managed to dress himself. He didn't know exactly who to go to in this scenario, but everyone seemed surprised that the Leon Kennedy would show up for work in some ratty t-shirt and grey sweatpants. The stares were making him incredibly uncomfortable and he was quickly regretting showing up at all.

After sitting in his own office for awhile to avoid the looks and whispers, Leon eventually sauntered over to his superior's office, an almost solemn look on his face as he let himself in after knocking.

Needless to say, Leon was relieved his superior knew this was coming. Slightly offended, but relieved nonetheless.

It had been a long time coming, and it was only a matter of time before Leon threw in the towel, especially since he was now just working behind the scenes instead of on the frontline.

He was allowed to return home for the rest of the day if he wanted to, which Leon quickly took. He really didn't want to be in that building for much longer.

As soon as he returned home he went right back to drinking. And as ashamed as he is to admit, he even cried a little, half empty whiskey bottle in one hand while the other was clenched tightly into a fist as he gripped the pant leg of his sweats.

There wasn't anyone Leon could talk to about this. Chris and Claire had their own respective partners to come home to after retirement, but Leon? Leon had nothing besides a dingy and cold two bedroom house with only the basics inside, including his alcohol cabinet.

The man didn't even give himself time to date, only the occasional one night stand with randoms from the bar. He was too afraid that he would endanger anyone he allowed into his life like that, not to mention he'd been betrayed one too many times to trust in someone that way again. It was his way of keeping himself and everyone else safe.

The therapists he was assigned throughout the years all had the same concern regarding his love life, and deep down Leon was just as concerned, but he rationalized it with that hero complex he developed.

But he just couldn't rationalize it anymore. Leon was alone. He was alone, sad, and afraid.

About a month after Leon's retirement was processed and announced, word spread quickly throughout numerous government branches. There was a celebration set up at the White House to honor his service as a field agent.

The President had separated him and Leon from the party to slowly walk through the many hallways in the building. The old man could tell just how bothered the now ex-agent was by his retirement, so he figured now would be the best time to talk to him about his final task.

"You know," The President spoke up after a couple minutes of the two walking in silence, prompting Leon to slowly turn his head to listen. "I'm sure you've heard it so many times tonight, but you truly were one of the best agents I've ever seen."

Leon chuckled quietly, shaking his head a bit at the compliment. He had heard it a lot tonight, but obviously it was different coming from him.

"I'm serious. This county, probably the entire world, would've been in shambles if not for your hours spent." The President continued, slowing his walking to a stop.

"It means more than you know." Leon responded simply, voice a bit gravelly from the few drinks he's had. He took a couple steps more before stopping as well, turning around to face the prominent old man.

The President sighed, giving him a sympathetic smile while nodding. They stood in silence for a brief moment before the old man spoke up again, pointing lazily down the hall. "Follow me, I've got something I want to show you."

From there, the two wandered further down the halls until eventually reaching one hall that had lights more centered towards the walls, highlighting the picture frames that sat evenly spaced out amongst them.

Leon seemed a tad confused until he was able to focus on the first painting they walked by. He knew each president got a portrait painted after their full term was served, but the man in this painting wasn't a past president.

He stopped walking to stand in front of the painting, admiring the details it had before glancing down at the bottom of the elegant frame, a placard reading a name he didn't recognize. What he did recognize, though, was the word Agent that sat in front of the man's name.

While zoned into the placard, Leon didn't register the gentle hand that had been clasped on his shoulder, the President's voice breaking through his trance. "For as long as there's been bioweapons, we've had agents fighting to stop them. But only a few agents have truly outdone themselves. Agents like you."

Leon blinked a couple times before turning his head to look at the hand on his shoulder, eyebrows furrowed. He wasn't quite understanding what he was saying.

The President took his silence as a cue to continue, his sympathetic smile turning into a happier one as he gently tugged Leon's shoulder to get him to start walking again. "The D.S.O. has produced some of the greatest agents since Benford created it back in 2011. You were amazing before, but you've outdone yourself time and time again."

Leon still wasn't quite understanding, really only half listening as he kept his eyes trained to the numerous portraits of agents as he slowly passed them.

The two stopped in front of the last painting in the hallway, only a few spots away from leading into another hallway. It was Chris and Claire in this painting. Chris was sitting down in a chair while Claire stood next to him, hand resting on back of it, both of them smiling.

He studied the painting for a minute longer before whipping his head around to face the President, who was still smiling, as the realization slowly settling in.

"I-" Leon struggling to speak, glancing back at the painting before quickly looking back at the old man standing next to him.

The President simply nodded his head, smile widening with a gentle laugh. "Right. The painting process takes a bit of time, but I think you've more than earned this."

The ex-agent had so many questions. Firstly, why hadn't Chris or Claire mentioned this? But more importantly, he gets to have his own portrait painted?

"The painter knows all about you. She's excited to meet you." The President started down the hall again, Leon not far behind, still stuttering out nonsense as he attempted to form even a sentence. "I'll give you the information you need to get started with her. I have it written down back in my office."

A painting?

A painting. A painting for him. A painting to honor him. What?

Leon was once again sat on his couch, blankly staring at the small business card with a date and time written on it in pen. He'd read the info on the card so many times already, wanting to make sure he got absolutely nothing wrong.

Apparently he didn't have to call and confirm, all he had to do was show up to this random address at a specific date and time, which was soon. In a couple days kind of soon. Also, he thought he was reading the time wrong, but no, it was four in the morning, not four in the afternoon. What an odd and rather inconvenient time.

Even after memorizing the business card front to back, Leon would be lying if he said he didn't forget about meeting up with this mystery painter. He'd been rather aloof the past couple months, it was hard to pull himself out of that funk. He'd been staying up late and sleeping in even later, so hitting snooze on his alarm a good few times was just muscle memory at this point.

It was almost 5am when he realized where he was suppose to be, eyes shooting open as he yanked himself out of bed, desperately trying to clean himself up enough to be at least presentable.

The man was mentally chastising himself the entire drive. It was a short drive, which he was surprised by, and the building seemed quaint; red brick with large windows that sat on what looked like either a second or third floor.

He parked his bike right near what he assumed was the main door, pulling off his motorcycle helmet before knocking and waiting.

The last thing Leon was expecting was you to unlock and open that door; young and pretty, so pretty...

"Mr. Kennedy?" You asked, eyebrows raised slightly with a small smile. He nodded, just barely noticeable, reaching a gloved hand up to wipe at his eyes as he caught himself staring.

Your smile only widened at his nod, stepping aside to allow him into walk in. It took him a minute to realize you were still talking, shaking his head out to refocus himself.

"-again, really, no need to worry about being late. I was trying to work with your schedule but I should've known it's changed up a bit by now, right?" You lead him up a set of narrow stairs, though he was mostly following the smell of your perfume. It was such a light smell but he definitely picked up on it.

You opened a door immediately to the left of the stairs, letting Leon follow you inside. The sun was just starting to rise, shining through the large windows in the open room.

The place was cluttered, yet organized. Crowded, but that just made it all the cozier to Leon. His house was bare and lacked any sort of personality, but this... this place was covered in you.

"I'm glad you like it in here." You said in a quiet voice, looking up at him as he took in your workspace. He was smiling ever so slightly, which you mimicked with a smile of your own. "I try to make it welcoming in here, my apartment is the same way.."

Your voice trailed off as you walked over to a mostly put together set up near the back of the room where the only wall without windows sat. There was a chair sitting close to the wall, the same chair Chris was sitting in for his portrait with Claire, along with your easel sitting empty a few feet away.

Leon stood frozen, only moving his head around as he took everything in. He followed you with his eyes as you fumbled around with something, eventually producing a blank 24" x 36" canvas that was still wrapped in thin plastic.

His mouth made an 'o' shape as he pulled himself from his small trance once again, beginning to slowly make his way over to the set up you've made. He placed his helmet down on the floor beside the chair.

After placing the canvas on the easel, you walked back over to where you'd gotten the canvas from before grabbing a heavily used sketchbook. It was a large one, the paper a light brown instead of white.

Leon had only just realized that there was a faint sound of some form of classical music playing from somewhere in the room, glancing around for speakers before looking back over at you.

"I'm not getting started today, we're a couple steps away from that, so don't worry about appearance just yet." You said softly with a breathy laugh, quickly making your way back over to where he stood next to the plush chair in your setup, his hand feeling over the worn maroon fabric.

Leon nodded silently, moving to sit down once you requested he did, furrowing his eyebrows as he watched you drag over a small table. You worked fast, that's for sure.

Eventually, you'd set up a little tabletop easel to sit on the table you'd dragged in front of him, grabbing your swivel chair to sit in as you placed your sketchbook on the easel, open to a blank page.

"I just need to get some basic ideas of your facial structure since that's most important when it comes to these kinds of paintings. You're gonna be wearing a nice tuxedo when I do the second- no, third sketch for the final painting, but this is just for me to get a feel for you and vise versa." You rambled quickly, pulling out a pencil from one of your pockets before fully sitting down on the chair, bringing your legs up to sit criss cross.

"Uh.. Alright..." Leon responded, clearing his throat a bit. He didn't really understand what you'd said, you spoke a little too fast for his tired brain to keep up, but it seemed like whatever you were doing was necessary so he just rolled with it.

He was left a little speechless again at how you just began sketching, glancing up to his face and down to the page you were working on over and over. "...do you need me to, I don't know, pose or something?"

The way you kept looking at him was making feel a little uneasy. Granted he's never been in this sort of situation before, this whole process was very unfamiliar to him.

"No, no. You can move your head around and stuff. Get comfortable." You waved off, eyes wrinkling as you smiled at him. Leon nodded again, deciding to take the opportunity to look around your workspace again.

It really was a cozy space. Full of color and life, even the curtains you had lining the windows offered so much pattern and detail to the room. The back of the room where the two of you sat was more cluttered with less decor, but the front of the room was a whole different story with those massive floor pillows, blankets of all sorts strewn about, that big fluffy looking area rug, it was all so... homey. It was even inspiring him to decorate his own house a bit.

The sound of your pencil scribbling on paper and the faint sound of the classical music playing was all Leon could hear for awhile, eventually letting out an anxious sigh before beginning to talk. "So... a painter, huh..?"

"Oh yeah, I've been doing this since I was little. Obviously I wasn't that good back then, but I really improved after high school." You immediately responded, voice a little louder than his. Clearly the topic excites you. "If you want, I can hand you one of my other sketchbooks to look at while I do my thing over here?"

Leon patted his hands against the arms of the chair before nodding to the side, pursing his lips slightly. "Mm, sure. Let's see what ya got.."

As soon as he agreed, you stood up and shuffled over to the corner of the room where some desks sat arranged in a makeshift cubicle. You opened a drawer and pulled out a couple sketchbooks, still as raggedy as the one you were using now.

Walking back over, you carefully handed them to him, which he slowly took after meeting your eyes for a brief moment.

Once you made your way back to your chair, he placed both sketchbooks into his lap, opening up the one on top first. The man flipped through them silently as you began to sketch him out again.

You'd zoned into your work, adding just a bit of shading to your sketches to help emphasis some features when Leon cleared his throat again. You leaned to the side to look at him, your smile quickly returning when you saw his baffled expression.

"These are... wow, okay, how old are you?" Leon asked, head jerking upwards to meet your gaze once more. You just giggled in response, using the pencil as a fidget before returning to sketching.

"Sorry-uh, I don't mean to come off as rude or anything, but to be honest, I was expecting you to be some old lady when I saw the portraits you've done." Leon was quick to try and explain, probably misinterpreting your lack of response for unease.

Your giggle turned to a small laugh, leaning to the side once more to look at the man. "Well, I'm glad I could surprise you a bit. Hopefully I don't look old."

Leon groaned and wiped his hand down his face. "Again, sorry. Didn't mean to imply." He shook his head and looked back down at the two sketchbooks sitting in his lap, continuing to flip through them.

It was only a couple hours until you decided you got a good enough feel for drawing his face. Grabbing the sketchbook, you stood up, pencil still in hand, looking down at the sketches you made as you slowly walked over to him.

The man noticed you standing up, quickly moving to close the sketchbooks you'd given him in favor of seeing your new sketches.

"I... I think this'll be enough today. I don't want to keep you too long." You said, handing him the sketchbook. Leon took it from you, careful not to smudge anything as he finally got to see what you've been doing for the past two hours.

He furrowed his eyebrows as he studied the sketches you'd made of his face, seeing all the different angles, even the smile, how'd you get his smile?

You seemed to grow nervous the longer he stared at your sketchbook in silence, his intense look making it seem as if he didn't really like them. "Are they... Are they okay?"

Leon jostled the sketchbook a bit in his hands before standing up, now towering over you as he kept his eyes on the paper. "Just okay? These are beyond amazing."

You let out a small breath you didn't notice you were holding, heat rushing to your cheeks as you smiled at his compliment. "Oh, thank you.. I'm sorry, normally sketches don't take this long but it was stressed to me that your portrait was very important so I wanted to get everything as perfect as I could.."

"Seriously, you're a mad woman if you think these wouldn't be good." Leon chuckled, handing the sketchbook back to you. He kept his eyes trained on you, even after you turned to look down and close the sketchbook. Only a fool would miss that blush on your cheeks, it looked good on you.

"Anyways, when should I come back for the next.. uh..." Leon paused, crossing his arms loosely as he struggled to think of the word.

Luckily, you finished the sentence for him. "Session. Again, this painting's importance was stressed to me a lot, so probably the next time you're available?" You talked while you shifted the small table back to where it had originally sat under one of the numerous windows, tossing the sketchbook down on the chair cushion.

"Alright, since it's importance has now been stressed to me as well, I can probably clear up some stuff in my schedule. How's tomorrow sound?" Obviously, Leon had a completely free schedule, but you didn't need to know that.

"Tomorrow works great! The sooner the better!" You laughed, placing a gentle hand on his bicep as you walked past him to grab a sticky note. "I'll give you my personal number, just let me know when you're thinking of coming over and I'll meet you here, okay?"

Leon looked at your number before pocketing the note, nodding his head with a smile of his own. "Sounds good. Same way out?" He pointed to the door that you brought him in through, bending down to pick up his motorcycle helmet right after.

You confirmed with a thumbs up, now drinking water from your water bottle as you'd forgotten too while focused on drawing. You felt bad for not offering him any water while he was here, but you won't forget next time.

The man gave you a curt wave before leaving the room, quietly shutting the door behind himself.

You had to admit, you've worked with a very small handful of agents since it takes a lot for them to earn their own portrait, but Leon Kennedy had to be the one of the most handsome men you've ever worked with. Maybe even one of the most handsome men you've ever seen.

Lucky you pay attention to detail, cause you definitely didn't see a ring on his finger.

[olive-man]

i forgot to post this whoops

[messylustt]

nsfw leon catching you masturbating

your lips were parted, your shirt scrunched up around your waist, as your legs shifted along the sheets. but they were spread. easy for leon’s unintentional viewing. he just wanted to stop by. that’s all. but now as he can’t tear his gaze away from your circling fingers, and pathetic moans, all his previous thoughts left. you were trying so hard to reach your high, your fingers already dripping in your arousal.

leon doesn’t mean to, he really doesn’t. but his hand slowly slips down to grab at his hard on, massaging the ache that you’ve created. he hasn’t looked away from you once, only trailing his gaze over your squirming form. “fuck.” leon muttered under his breath once he saw your legs widen further your hips grinding into your hand as you slipped your fingers back in, the sound of your wetness joining your whimpers.

leon’s own fingers quickened, undoing his belt as he tried not to let the metal clink together. unzipping his pants, he slipped his hand into his boxers, his lips parting in a shaky breath as he pulled his cock out. it slapped against his stomach, before he spit in his hand (as quietly as possible). jerking off to the sight of you never felt so disgusting, or…good. god, it felt good. the way your skin sheened in slight sweat. you were really trying to reach that high, but your poor fingers just weren’t quite long enough.

leon quickened his grip, resting more against the wall as he peeked in, muting his own groans, as he focused on yours. “lemme help you, baby…” he murmured to himself, as he watched your brows furrow in frustration. the sight only made his hand quicken, as his hips stuttered. “you can do it…” he praised as he watched you grab something. he nearly orgasmed right there, when you straddled one of your teddies, your desperate hips moving against its nose.

your helpless moans and whimpers, made leon’s cock respond eagerly, his tongue running along his bottom lip as he imagined himself in place of your teddy. “go faster f’me, come on.” leon whispered, as if all his shame had just left, left him pining after you and your soaked pussy. “please…god, please…” you whimpered out, mouth opening as you whined.

“jeezus…” leon hissed out, his hands pace matching your hips movements. “look at you begging…” he murmured, gripping the doorway a little tighter as he tried his best to stay away. you didn’t need to know that your close friend was stood outside your room getting off to you masturbating. minor details you just didn’t need to know.

you gripped the teddy tighter against your pussy as you rode it, your tits in your shirt bouncing. “fuck — don’t — ” leon gulps as he watched how desperate you were. he only wanted to help you out. but the thing that pushed him over the edge was the whisper you uttered, thinking you were alone. “leon…fuck, please.”

leon’s hips stuttered as he spilled all over his hand, his stroking continuing as his mouth opened in a silent pant. you were always such a good friend to him. it didn’t take long before you reached your high, slowing your grinding on your teddy, as you tilted your head back. leon quickly looked away, some of that shame returning but not enough to regret anything.

he had made a mess of his boxers but he could really care less. he forced himself to not look at you in fear of him loosing any self control he had gathered. but he just couldn’t help sparing one more glance. he zoned into the way you got off the teddy, your cheeks flushed as you grabbed your panties on the other side of the bed. but then he watched you grab your phone, typing away before his pocket vibrated. thank god it was on silent, otherwise he’d be screwed.

shakily answering he placed it to his ear, fixing himself, as he redid his belt with one hand, slipping slightly out your window so as not to sound so close. “hey leon, sorry this is kinda a random call.” your tone didn’t give anything away, as if you weren’t just getting off to the thought of him.

“don’t apologise,” leon tried to keep his tone the same as yours but a hint of breathlessness peeked through. “are you…alright?” you innocently asked. “yeah i’m…i’m fine, just uh, got back from a run.” you seemed to but that as you a hummed an ‘ohhh’. leon peeked back in, catching sight of part of you fiddling with your shirt as you stood, nervously nibbling on your lower lip.

“are you able to come over later? i’ve finally realised how to make a proper lasagna.” your smile was adorable, as leon felt his cock twitch. “always so generous, huh?” leon spoke, watching as you walked into the kitchen. so fucking generous. “i’ll be over at 5.”

[chiikinwing]

did @sleepyhelian dtiys from twitter :))

[bhaalsdeepbat]

Astarion refers to the other spawn he intends to create as his children and I personally HC it more like his consort spawn eventually plays the role of brood mother to whoever the favored "children" are for eternity. like they recreate a fucked up family unit. romanced player and the children have to compete for scraps while he spoils whoever his romance partner is. and the cruelty of it is that Astarion's consort has all the gifts to be in the sun, but Astarion now wants an eternal night for all of the children he intends to make (and force to live in the shadows).

[bbqhooligan]

people are talking abt a travis-drake break off and remembering when travis was begging metro to play Like That before i came out but im laughing my ass off about him screeching YYEEEEEEAAAAHHHH as soon as it starts, thats how i behave when i put on the Boogieman Mixtape

[tomscottsredshirt]

hello. i know i'm just a random stranger on this silly little website but i wanted to show my appreciation for the two of you with this lazily crafted meme

[cronagorgonzola]

This sounds like a shitpost but for REAL why is no one talking about how much influence Star Trek has on the Five Nights at Freddy's series?

[eluminium]

So. Now that Skizzleman has completed every single compliment/words of affirmation session in Limited Life...and he also kicked the bucket, I present to you...

Every compliment/words of affirmation done by Skizz (plus some extras!) in LimLife, transcribed by yours truly!

(yes it’s a link to a google doc it was the easiest way okay-)

Here you can find all the affirmations in chronological order transcribed, with timestamps for both Skizz’s POV and the POV of the person he’s complimenting. I hope you enjoy! My god this took forever-

[eluminium]

dont worry it gets worse

From @MCChampionship_

👑 Announcing team Orange Ocelots 👑

@.Ph1LzA @.Ryguyrocky @.Smallishbeans @.impulseSV

Watch them in MCC on Saturday March 18th at 8pm GMT!

[owliellder]

The Finer Details

Post DI! Leon Kennedy x Painter fem! Reader

MDNI 18+

(Session 1, Session 2, Session 3, Session 4, Session 5, The Reveal)

Description: Leon realizes that retirement is in his best interest now that he's getting older. All of his accomplishments as an agent mean he's truly earned a painting to commemorate..

Warnings: Not Proofread, Age gap! (reader is anywhere between mid-late 20's and Leon is 40), Porn w/ Plot, Use of she/her pronouns, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Alcoholism, mentions of trauma/PTSD/depression, P in V smut (wrap it NEOW), Leon cries during sex 💔

Tags: Older Leon Kennedy, Younger afab!Reader, Leon is SAD but he is your muse, Crying, mentions of Leon masturbating, starts off with Dom! Leon and Sub! Reader, falls into switch territory because that man needs some serious TLC, Praise kink, Hickeys, Handjob, Nipple play, Oral sex (m! and f! receiving), and a heavy dose of Aftercare

Author Note: I'm actually thinking I might be doing one chapter every other night, but I would also like to draw on my comically large art tablet at some point this week, so I might skip a day or two.

Cross posted onto AO3

Session 2: Color Matching

You partially regret just agreeing to "tomorrow", seeing as this man decided that he wanted to show up at 4am.

It was the original time set for yesterday's session, and you guess he felt bad for being late, but god damn he texted you an hour earlier telling you he'd be there by 4am. Dragging yourself out of the comfort of your bed was difficult, but in the end it was worth it to draw such a stunner.

You had to get there before Leon did, so there you were; half awake, dressed in a pair of fuzzy pants and a loose t-shirt, and a small cup of tea in your right hand while the other fumbled with the keys to your little work room.

That was the greatest part about your job as a professional painter. You didn't have a dress code.

Though most days you did try to look your best, some days it was just easier to be comfortable. Besides, it's not like tons of people come and see you everyday, it was usually just one person at a time.

It was 3:47am by the time you'd gotten to your workspace and settled, sitting on one of the many floor pillows in the living area you put together away from the actual painting setup. The tea was warm, it was keeping you sleepy, but you couldn't stop taking small sips. It was in your hands, there wasn't much you could do to stop yourself.

You told Leon to just come on in when he arrived, not wanting to walk all the way back down just to lead him back up. The stiffness from sleep was still in parts of your body, so you knew it would be difficult to get up, even when he did finally stride through that door. He dressed nicely today, just what you needed him to do.

Wanting to relish in the dim yet warm lighting of your various lamps for as long as possible, you beckoned the man to come over and sit with you, which confused him slightly. He thought you would be ready to get started once he showed up, but he wasn't one to argue so early in the morning. Instead, he shrugged and slowly sauntered over to you, taking a seat on a floor pillow across from yours.

"Good morning." Leon grumbled quietly, his voice barely hiding the fact that he wasn't quite awake either. That rumble in his chest made your stomach flutter. "Good morning to you, too." You responded, closing your eyes for a moment to take another sip of your tea.

"When uh-" He cleared his throat, putting a fist up to his mouth as he did so. "When are we gonna get started?"

You furrowed your eyebrows, moving the cup away from your lips to stare at him. "I wasn't expecting to be up so early, so just give me a few more minutes to wake up and then we can turn my main lights on."

Leon sucked on his teeth as he thought, turning his head to look over out one of the windows as he rested his wrists on his knees. "Oh, yeah, sorry. Just wanted to make up for being late yesterday."

You laughed softly before letting out a quiet sigh, setting your tea down on the low coffee table sitting behind you.

"Don't worry about it, but also don't make me get up so early again, old man." You attempted to joke, immediately noticing the wince on his face at the nickname. To divert, you stood up and stretched, patting his shoulder as you walked by him. "Alright, let me pull my stuff out and then we can get started."

Leon followed you with his head, taking a few seconds before standing up himself, pressing his hands onto his knees to help get up from the floor pillow.

"I'm just going to be color matching your tones today. I won't do all of it since obviously lighting changes throughout the day, buuuut..." You trailed off, beginning to rummage through a drawer in one of your desks before pulling out handfuls of paint tubes. "I just need to pull out the basic colors I'll be using."

It was still pretty dim in the room which caused you to have to squint to see the names of the colors on the tubes. Leon found that partially amusing, his chuckle causing you to glare playfully over at him. "Something funny?"

"As funny as it is to watch you go cross-eyed looking at those," he smiled, gesturing with his thumb to the light switches near the door. "I feel like it'd be easier to just turn the lights on."

"My retinas will be fried if those get turned on-" You were cut off by your own shout when Leon took the liberty of turning the lights on himself, laughing as you quickly moved to cover your eyes.

He only had to squint for a second before his eyes adjusted. You, however, were not expecting the sudden change, so you got an eyeful of bright white light. Complete and utter agony that lasted for a full five seconds.

By the time you moved your hands away from your eyes, they were watering and you had to squint for awhile longer. "Give me a warning next time you decide you want to try and murder me like that." You said, wiping away the few stray tears you'd produced from the light sensitivity. "You might live in the light, but I don't!"

The man shook his head and crossed his arms, smile still plastered to his face as he slowly made his way over to the chair in front of your easel. "That's payback for calling me an old man."

You twisted your head around to the chair so you could give him an indignant look, catching a glance as he was putting his hands up in defense with a small "what?" before you turned to look down at the tubes of paint sitting next to your hands on top of the desk.

"Nothing, just wasn't expecting to work with a toddler, that's all.." You mumbled, smile creeping onto your face as you heard him click his tongue from behind you. "I was an old man not five minutes ago and now I'm a toddler?" Leon asked, voice peaking dramatically.

"Yes, you have quite the range, Mr. Kennedy." You began sifting through the various paints you'd pulled out, humming softly as you contemplated what route you wanted to take with them. Stick to primaries? Add secondaries? Should I just use every color I need? Hmmm..

Leon watched as you stared at the paint tubes you'd picked up, tilting his head to the side slightly to try and get a better look. He snapped his head back upright when you started to speak again. "I'm trying to decide whether or not to use a lot of different colors, or just stick to a minimum.."

It was almost as if you knew what he was wondering. "Uhh... what's the difference...?" The man questioned, raising an eyebrow as you turned around, seemingly having made your decision already.

"Using just the main 6 colors-" You turned around and were faced with his very confused stare, causing you to explain a little better. "The main colors you see in a rainbow."

He breathed out a quiet "ahh" at that. Okay, good. He knows his basics. Cute...

"I can mix just red, blue, and yellow at varying degrees to get any color I need. Adding green, purple, and orange will help even more." You pursed your lips, lightly tossing the paint tubes in your hands before setting them down away from the other tubes. "I need white also. Damn.."

"What's wrong with white?" Leon asked, leaning forward a bit to watch you dig in the drawer for a tube of white oil paint.

"Nothin'. Just forgot, is all. Trying to keep this as authentic as possible..." You mumble, quickly closing the drawer with a slam after pulling out the paint you were looking for.

Silently nodding his head in acknowledgment, Leon turned his focus to his surroundings again, admiring your choice in decor once more. He bought a nice decorative pillow for his couch yesterday after being here the first time.

You grabbed a few strips of thick white paper, running your thumb along its textured surface before setting them down. You told him to stay where he was as you set up a small art palette, little dollops of the paints sitting neatly in the circular grooves.

"I'm gonna make color swatches of your skin for myself." You spoke up as you suddenly turned and walked towards him, holding the palette in your left hand while holding the strips of paper and a small yet flat paintbrush in the right. "Also, I'll need to get a picture of you in the position you want, but I'll do that after all of-" you waved everything you're currently holding in a small circle. "-this."

Leon simply responded with an "oh, okay", his knee beginning to bounce as you quickly began to mix little bits of your paint together to get a simple pale skin tone down before you even attempted to match his.

As you worked, you were starting to grow nervous with the silence, and clearly the man in front of you was as well, given he had started to sweat slightly on his forehead. He wasn't nearly as conversational as the last two agents you painted.

"So.. you've earned yourself a portrait..." You smiled slightly, holding up the strip of paper you'd brushed your mixed paint on to see what colors to mix in next. "What'd you do to earn one?"

Leon hummed. It was hard to think about every mission he's gone on, all the horrors he bore witness to, the people he saved, the people he couldn't save, how it all started, and now the fact that he's done-

"Hey, woah, I'm sorry." The sound of your voice drew him away from his thoughts. "I didn't know that would be a.. sore subject for you." He blinked at you a few times, furrowing his eyebrows soon after. "What?"

You pulled the strip of paper away from his face, pulling your lips tight with a shrug of your shoulders at his response. "You suddenly looked mad. Like... really really mad. I thought you were gonna snap at me or-"

"No. It's just bittersweet, is all." Leon cut you off, waving his hand dismissively at you before nodding once down to the paint palette in your hand. "You can keep going."

You stayed frozen in your crouched position for a few seconds longer before continuing to swatch your paint. You kept silent, not wanting to seem like you were antagonizing him.

"I used to be just a cop." The man suddenly said, causing you to look up from where you were mixing your paints together. "Only for a single day, but I was a cop. Simple as can be."

You nodded, beckoning him to continue with a small smile, which he did. "I'm sure you've heard about some of that already though, since you worked with Claire not too long ago."

His comment caused you to let out a small "ohh" in sudden recognition, nodding your head again. "Yeah, that's right! She mentioned you on that, okay.."

Leon continued to talk about all of his missions vaguely, still having to keep confidentiality in mind. You let him drone on, having gotten his skin tone matched in a few different areas now. You stopped to scribble on the papers with the paint swatches, making sure to label where each tone came from on his face and hands.

You took note of how he circled back to his single day as a cop and to certain missions. His mention of saving the president's daughter had you immediately smiling. That was a straight ticket to earning his own portrait in that hall of the White House, he could've done just that his entire life and he still would've been seeing you at some point.

You focused on mixing your paint for a little while before noticing he had grown quiet, looking up to see him staring out the window, a faint orange glow from the sun rising highlighting his features. And his tears.

Growing concerned once again, you set down the paintbrush on the palette so you could place a gentle hand on his shoulder. It seemed he didn't notice that, too lost in his head to notice anything at this point.

"Hey..." You asked with a soft voice, your eyebrows furrowing with worry. "We don't have to talk about it anymore, you know..."

Finally, Leon looked back at you, eyes widening once he realized how watery his eyes were. He turned his head away so you didn't watch him wipe the tears that had fallen down his cheeks and use his sleeve to dry his eyes. It wasn't like him to be so easily bothered by this stuff.

"I just need one more color swatch and then you can go, okay? We can save the photo for another day." You gave the man a weak smile, one he didn't reciprocate. You understood.

He looked like he wanted to say something, but you filled in for him. "Seriously, it's no trouble at all. If you need more time then you need more time." Standing up from your crouched position, you left your half-finished color match swatch with the finished ones before walking over to set everything down on the desk.

You didn't want to crowd the poor man. That was probably the last thing he needed. Despite having only painted for a select few, you've learned to just step away from these retired agents when things would go awry. It was akin to a war veteran suffering from PTSD; they did almost have the same experiences as far as you could tell.

"I'm sorry."

Leon finally managed to say to you, his hands anxiously rubbing up and down on the tops of his thighs. Must be a nervous tick.

You angled yourself so you could see him while your body still faced the desk, smiling at him while your hands worked to neatly stack the strips of paper before clipping them together with a paper clip.

"There's absolutely no reason for you to apologize." You kept your smile as you responded to Leon, looking back down at your hands to make sure everything was put together properly. "You forget I strictly work with agents like yourself. From all the vague tellings, I know that the job is tough on you guys; body and mind."

It was weird having someone outside of the agency talk to him about this kind of stuff. It was weird for him to be bringing it up in the first place. Or, at least he felt like it was.

"Still, I should know better than to do that." Leon sighed, rubbing his hand along the side of his face before stroking his chin, scratching at the stubble growing.

"Know better than to do what? Let yourself process everything you've been through?" You spoke in almost a whisper. If your tone was any louder, you fear you'd come off as accusatory.

"I get it. Really, I do." Leon groaned quietly at your words, causing you to click your tongue. You grabbed your swivel chair and scooted it over so you could sit in front of him, and when you did, you brought your legs up to sit criss-cross just like yesterday, only there wasn't a table separating the two of you. You looked solemn. He didn't like where this was going.

"The whole point of painting you a portrait is to honor you and your work as an agent, but it's not just about getting yourself painted." You leaned forward in your chair, elbows resting on your knees, all the while keeping your voice hushed and gentle. "Seeing the portrait once it's finished is going to be an incredibly emotional ordeal. It's a reminder that this is truly the end of an era for you, Mr. Kennedy..."

Your words were really starting to strike a chord for Leon. He hadn't given it much thought. He didn't want to give it any thought at all. All he thought was "I'm just going to get myself a nice fancy portrait and be done with it". He didn't even consider what the portrait of him would actually symbolize.

"Oh." Was all Leon could muster, letting his gaze fall into his lap where his hands now sat clasped together. If it weren't for the comfortable environment you had set up here, he probably would've bolted ages ago.

You let him think everything over for awhile, wanting to give him all the time in the world. Clearly he needed something, but he wasn't allowing himself any sort of leeway.

It took some courage building internally, but you decided to stand up, taking the one step closer to him before placing your hand on his shoulder once more. You squeezed it a bit, bringing his attention back to you as he lifted his head up.

You attempted to smile at him, moving your hand off his shoulder so you could hold your arms out slightly. This man needed a hug and you were more than willing to offer the leeway he wasn't granting himself.

Leon stood up rather quickly which surprised you, and startled you just a bit, before feeling his large arms tightly wrap around you. It was a little awkward since he had to bend a bit to hug you properly, but it worked out in his favor, and yours too, since he got a better opportunity to bury his face into the crook of your neck.

He sighed happily when he felt your arms slowly wrap around his chest, doing your best to squeeze him for that extra bit of comfort, even rubbing up and down on his back. It had been so long since he had a real hug. It felt good.

You let him hug you for as long as he needed, which was longer than expected, but definitely not unwelcome by any means. Though, his warm breath against your neck and the smell of his cologne was causing you to blush. That's really the last thing you needed him to see after being so vulnerable and open with you.

You felt him start to pull his head away, prompting you to pat his back gently as an end to the hug. Despite the fact that it was faint, it was clear to you that he was blushing when you were finally able to look up at him.

You wanted to remain calm for Leon, letting out your nervousness through a quiet cough. "I know we've only met up twice, but if you ever need a change in scenery, just know that my workspace here is always open to you. I'm always open to you, okay?"

Your words were making him feel weird. Something he hasn't felt in a long time was creeping up his chest. Your smell lingering on his coat wasn't helping, either.

"Yeah-.. yeah, okay." Leon huffed through his nose, reaching up to scratch at the stubble underneath his jawline as he averted his gaze to the floor.

The sun was fully up now, so you walked over to where the light switches were next to the door, flipping them off. All your other ambient lights could be turned off later. For now, you needed to focus on the man still standing in front of that maroon chair.

"You can stay if you feel you need to, but I just want you to relax." You said, looking over at him as you heard his footsteps slowly walk past you to the living space.

"I'll head out." Leon bent over and grabbed his motorcycle helmet from where he'd set it down on the rug near the floor pillows. He placed his on his head as he walked over to where you stood next to the door, not really wanting anyone to look at his tear-stricken and red face any longer.

Once he finished fiddling with his helmet, you reached out and took his hand in both of yours, patting the top of it softly. "Text me when you're ready to come back over."

You couldn't see Leon's face anymore since he'd put the visor down, but you could definitely see him nod his head. He opened the door and let himself out, touching the side of the doorframe as he rounded the sharp corner and walked down the stairs.

After closing the door behind him, you started walking around your workspace to turn off all the lamps and other ambient lighting, pausing to listen to the sound of his motorcycle start up and drive off.

[starrierknight]

𝟎𝟏𝟎. 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤 ❛𝐧❜ 𝐧𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐲

“Here's to alcohol, the rose colored glasses of life.” ― F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Beautiful and Damned

MASTERLIST | KINKTOBER 23' | AO3

wc— 8.8k

pairing— dom!gn!reader x lightweight!sub!gojo

cws/tags— dubcon, sex under the influence, drinking, humiliation, mild dumbification, friends to lovers (with a healthy dose of mutual pining), in vino veritas, frottage/dry humping, cum & spit as lube, handjob, reader has boobs/AFAB reader, tit-fucking, overstimulation, edging, multiple orgasms, cum eating, dacryphilia, mix of praise & degradation, petnames: “slut” + “needy” + “cutie”, major spoilers for the horror film ‘Saw’ (2004), netflix n chill type beat

As the warm, sunset hues gradually dimmed and dusk settled in, you found yourself lounging on the plush couch, accompanied by your cat. With the Netflix menu at your fingertips, you eagerly searched for the perfect film with the perfect plot twist to heighten the evening's atmosphere. 

It’s October, after all. The perfect time to embrace the unexpected.

From the distant corner of the room, the familiar click of the front door echoed, signalling Satoru's arrival for your movie night. Satoru stepped in, shedding his jacket and slipping off his shoes, the weariness of his day evident in his movements. He lifted his blindfold off and tossed it over his shoulder. After placing his travel bag and jacket down, he made his way to the couch, collapsing beside you without a word, his attention fixated on the television.

The sudden movement caused your cat to startle and gracefully leap off the couch, retreating to a safer distance. A soft chuckle escaped you, breaking the tranquil ambiance, and you turned your focus to Satoru.

"Long day?"

He hummed in affirmation, the day's fatigue evident in the lines of his face, though his gaze remained fixed on the Netflix options. A beat passed before he let out a sigh, a note of weariness accompanying his words.

"A very long day," he confessed, his exhaustion palpable. He made a vague gesture towards the television, groaning playfully. "Do we have to watch another horror movie?"

You couldn't help but smile at his weary demeanour. "It's October. It's, like, a crime to not watch horror during October." You sighed and stretched out on the couch, a touch of playful reproach in your tone. "Don't tell me you're getting bored of them," you teased, giving him a gentle nudge.

He made an exasperated noise, although it carried a half-hearted quality.

"Okay, fine. But if I have nightmares tonight, I'm blaming you. I don't sleep well enough as it is," he joked, crossing his arms and allowing himself to relax on the couch. 

The weariness of the day seemed to lift a little as the familiar comfort of your home surrounded him. He closed his eyes, finding solace in the quiet and the purring warmth of the cat that had rejoined him on the couch. The cat settled on his lap, seeking both company and warmth against the encroaching evening chill.

Amused, you couldn't help but snicker. "A sorcerer afraid of horror movies? Now that's a plot twist. Aren't you used to much scarier things in your line of work?"

"And I would have thought someone with free time would pick up a hobby or two," he retorted with a playful grin, absently stroking the cat's head as she purred contentedly. "Besides, most movies are a pale comparison to what I have to face day to day." 

You snorted. "Was that a jab? It better not have been a jab." Your grin widened as you continued flicking through the various options Netflix had to offer. "Trust you to get bored of horror films."

"Can you blame me? I deal with curses and evil spirits all day long. I'm allowed to want to watch something light and fluffy from time to time, like a real man," he retorted, a hint of mock defensiveness in his voice.

His gaze remained shut, as if he were still savouring a mental escape into a different world. "Don't laugh, I'm serious," he added, pretending to be stern.

You chuckled and quickly stifled it with your hand, grinning. "Oh, I'm not laughing. Promise."

His head tilted, and he finally opened his eyes, turning in your direction to gauge your playful expression. "You know I can hear you, right?"

You continued to laugh, attempting to stifle it unsuccessfully. "I’m your friend! I'd never laugh at you."

A very mild, almost imperceptible scowl settled on Satoru's otherwise handsome features. He continued to stroke the cat on his lap, muttering under his breath, "Oh, sure, you wouldn't. I believe you. Absolutely."

You couldn't help but smile at his mock irritation and stood up, tossing Satoru the remote. "Pick a horror film we've not seen before. I'll be back in a second, I need to get some... supplies to make this more entertaining for you."

Satoru looked up with a bemused expression as your words sank in, his eyes tracking your movements as you made your way out of the living room, still cradling the cat on his lap.

"Supplies?" he asked blankly.

"Just pick out something!" you called over your shoulder, a mischievous hint in your voice, before disappearing into the kitchen.

Satoru did as you asked, perusing Netflix's selection of movies before eventually settling on a particular one. When you returned from the kitchen, he looked up from the screen, holding the remote out. However, instead of handing it over, he pulled it away before you could even attempt to retrieve it from him.

"I'll give it to you if you tell me what these supplies are," he challenged, an amused glint in his eyes.

You smirked, taking your hands out from behind your back to reveal a large bottle of vodka and two shot glasses. "The best kind of supplies, of course."

Satoru raised his eyebrows, visibly intrigued. With his head tilted forward once more, he gazed at you with a wide grin. "No way in hell am I touching that crap."

Your smile only grew wider as you plopped down beside him on the couch, placing the vodka bottle and shot glasses on the coffee table. You reached over and snatched the remote from him, determined to make the night more exciting.

"We are playing a drinking game, since horror apparently bores you so much. So, yes, actually—you are touching 'that crap'," you declared. 

A touch of liquid courage couldn’t hurt, right?

Satoru let out a dry chuckle and pushed a stray lock of hair out of his face before speaking, his voice tinged with a hint of self-assuredness.

"There's not a single horror movie in existence that could hold a candle to the kind of nightmares I experience on a regular basis. But playing a drinking game is fine too, I suppose."

The cat on his lap meowed and nuzzled his leg, leaving a trail of white, fluffy cat hairs on his sweatpants. You reached over to scratch the cat under her chin, and she responded by nuzzling your hand and purring contentedly. 

"Aw, you scared? You a scaredy cat?" you teased affectionately.

Her purring grew louder at your attention, and she rolled over on her stomach, presenting her fluffy belly to you, begging for more scratches. Satoru watched the interaction with a slight smirk, his reservations waning. He was always weak when it came to you, after all.

"So what are the rules of this drinking game?" he asked, shifting his attention from the cat to the impending movie night.

You hummed thoughtfully and glanced at the TV, noting that he had chosen 'Saw' (2004) for your viewing pleasure.

"Oh, excellent choice. I haven't seen this one. Let's see... There's a creepy doll, right?" You paused to think. "We drink when someone dies, when we see the doll, when there's a flashback, and... when someone begs for their life. How's that sound?"

Satoru hummed in agreement and nodded as he regarded your game proposal. "Fine by me."

He reached for the vodka bottle and poured you both a shot glass, raising his glass in a teasing toast. "To your health."

With a grin, he knocked back his shot, though his facial expression morhphed to betray his distaste for the vodka. You couldn't help but laugh at his reaction, well aware of his aversion to alcohol. As 'Saw' began playing, you followed suit, knocking back your own shot and settling in next to Satoru, continuing to pet the contented cat on his lap.

The cat purred in response to your attention, adding a soothing background to the tension-filled movie. As the film progressed, you both quickly downed shots within the first half-hour, and while you were still relatively sober, a gentle fuzziness began to envelop the edges of your thoughts.

"Your rules are killing me," Satoru whined. "Ugh, I'll be shitfaced by the time the film ends."

In an attempt to keep up, he downed another shot, grimacing at the familiar burn in his throat. Despite his initial reservations, Satoru found himself enjoying the game more than he had anticipated.

You couldn't help but grin smugly, your fingers affectionately ruffling his fluffy, white hair. "Aw, you're such a lightweight. Don't pass out. That's no fun."

Satoru chuckled, leaning into your touch, savouring the sensation. He downed yet another shot—to drown out his nerves, though he wouldn’t admit it—and his laughter quickly devolved into a fit of amused coughs.

"Hey, you're the one trying to get me drunk off my ass," he accused with a lazy smirk.

You leaned closer, your tone conspiratorial. "I'm not trying—I'm succeeding, thanks."

As the movie continued to unfold, you both found yourselves inching closer to each other on the couch, stealing glances when you thought the other wasn't looking. The cat, purring contently, basked in the attention as you pet her, and occasionally, your fingers would gently brush against Satoru's, almost by accident. 

Almost.

Satoru leaned in closer, his shoulder pressing firmly against yours as he downed another shot of vodka, the effects of the alcohol becoming more noticeable for him. You both sank deeper into the couch, the cat purring even louder as she wiggled her way into your arms, cradled by you. The euphoria of the moment began to envelop you—how could it not, with Satoru by your side?

Satoru, on the other hand, seemed to be feeling the effects of the vodka more profoundly. He made a show of yawning casually and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, his actions less coordinated than usual as he accidentally knocked the throw blanket of the back of the sofa.

"Smooth," you mumbled, a soft laugh escaping you.

Satoru hummed in agreement, the alcohol altering his inhibitions. His arm shifted, fingers now gently tracing patterns on your collarbone, sending delightful shivers down your spine. You could feel your body reacting to his touch, a combination of warmth, shivers, and a tingle of pleasure that made your senses dance.

He leaned in even closer, the proximity causing a playful struggle for space on your lap with the cat, who mewled in complaint. His breath brushed against your ear, and he whispered, "You say somethin’?" 

Your lazy grin persisted as you whispered into his ear, "You can hold my hand if you're scared, y'know... No need to be strong for my sake."

The sound of your whisper ignited a fiery rush of heat through Satoru's body. The intimacy of the moment hung heavy in the air, and he didn't say a word or make a move, allowing the sensation of being so close to you to wash over him. If you were listening closely, you might have been able to hear the rapid rhythm of his heart hammering away behind his ribs.

Finally, he broke the silence, his voice husky and low, his lips dangerously close. "I'm not scared," he purred, "I just wanna hold your hand."

Your teasing continued as you cooed to the cat, playfully chanting, "Scaredy cat, scaredy cat, scaredy cat," while showering her with drunken kisses to her fluffy head.

"Shut up," Satoru retorted, a hint of a grin on his face as he lightly tickled your neck with the tip of his finger.

The cat meowed contentedly in your arms as you continued to lavish her with attention. Satoru, not one to be left out, reached out to stroke her fur with his other hand. He pressed himself even closer to you, his cheek resting against your chest, and let out a contented sigh. The world around you seemed to blur as you sank deeper into the intimate cocoon you had created together on the couch.

You rested your cheek against Satoru's soft, white hair, the movie playing in the background mostly forgotten as you both enjoyed this newfound closeness. The effects of alcohol were evident in his lowered inhibitions, causing him to startle at violent scenes in the film, jolting against you. He did, in fact, grab your hand at one point.

"Aw, 'toru... You're so scared," you teased, a grin tugging at your lips.

Satoru pressed even closer to you, his body intimately connected to yours. His soft hair tickled your skin, and his fingers gently traced patterns against your flesh, creating a dance of touch and warmth.

He hummed in amusement and leaned his head back, his gaze fixed on the screen though distant and glazed. It was clear he relished being close to you, his words carrying a slur that reflected the relaxed state he was in. "’S true. I'm a scaredy cat…"

"Say it again... I dare ya," you encouraged, poking his cheek.

The alcohol was affecting his thought processes, his words coming out sweet and slurred. "I'm... ‘M a scaredy cat," he whispered, his voice barely audible, his gaze half-lidded and dreamy.

He reached up and gently placed a hand on your cheek, his fingers tenderly trailing over your skin. "You... You're so pretty," he murmured, the words filled with sincerity and a touch of awe. 

The alcohol had loosened his tongue, allowing him to share a sentiment that perhaps he wouldn't have expressed otherwise. He had plenty of experience thinking of you as pretty, as gorgeous, as stunning—but saying it out loud? Now, that was uncharted territory. Acting on it? Only in his dreams, or those late nights he spent thinking about you when he couldn’t sleep.

"You're so drunk," you whispered, a smile playing on your lips as you looked down at him, his head resting against your chest.

Satoru emitted a grumbling noise in response, clearly feeling the effects of the alcohol, but then leaned in closer to your ear, his words laden with desire. "And you're so soft ‘n’ warm ‘n’ pretty. Wanna do more than just hold your hand..."

His words trailed off, a frown forming on his face as he struggled to find the right words. The alcohol had muddled his brain, his mind racing with lust-fueled fantasies that he found difficult to separate from his tamer conversation he typically had with you.

You were about to respond when a gunshot sounded from the TV, causing the cat on your lap to startle and scamper away in fear. The abrupt interruption made you burst into laughter, and you reached over to the coffee table, attempting to pour yourself another shot, albeit missing the glass.

"Oops," you giggled as you tried to regain your composure.

You lifted the shot glass to your lips and knocked it back, the burn of the vodka a welcome distraction from the rising tension in the room. You made a playful show of sipping it, and he noticed the few drops of vodka dribbling down your chin.

"Oh, I'll take care of that," he offered, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Leaning forward, he lapped up the remaining vodka off your mouth. His lips were soft against your skin, but the sensation sent shivers down your back, the feelings of lust growing stronger with each passing minute.

You blinked in surprise, caught off guard by his unexpected action, and gently batted him away. "Mm... 'toru, you're drunk,'' you mumbled in a half-hearted protest.

"So are you," he purred, brushing his fingertips down the column of your neck. "'M getting so, so tired of just holding your hand..."

His words were slow and deliberate, the effects of the alcohol manifesting in both his speech and movements. He reached forward and traced his fingers along your jawline, subtly urging you to lift your chin, as if he wanted to kiss you. His words were slurring together and he was practically glued to you now, doing poorly at hiding the raw desire in his gaze.

You let out an exasperated groan. "But the game... I wanna finish the drinking game," you whined, attempting to steer the focus back to the film.

"I wanna finish, too... But not in the way you're thinking of," Satoru replied, his words carrying a seductive tone, his gaze fixated on your lips. The alcohol had clouded his judgement, blurring the lines between desire and restraint.

He leaned in even closer, not fully registering your discomfort with the proximity. His primal instincts were taking over, fueled by the alcohol. He wanted to bite, to taste, to make you his.

You groaned again and prodded his chest, attempting to gently redirect his attention. "I wanna know who Jigsaw is, though," you grumbled, gesturing vaguely toward the television as the film continued to play.

Satoru's actions were fueled by desire and amplified by the effects of alcohol. He snickered and wrapped both of his arms around your body, his movements slow and deliberate. His touch was both tender and electric, each caress sending waves of heat through your body.

"He’s John Kramer," he whispered against your neck, his voice laced with desire that sent shivers down your spine. "Jigsaw’s name he took up after he was… Ah, what’s the word? Um… Oh, diagnosed with inoperable brain cancer."

A satisfied hum escaped Satoru, and his hands began tracing a pattern on your body, teasingly close to the hem of your t-shirt. The sensation left you feeling hot and yearning for more.

You turned your head toward him, a drunkenly exasperated look on your face. "How the hell d'you know that?" you muttered. "You've not seen this before..."

"I’m a genius," he quipped, his confidence bolstered by the alcohol.

He placed another kiss on your neck, this time closer to your jaw, and you could feel his lips tugging and nibbling at your skin, igniting a rush of pleasure. His half-lidded gaze was fixated on your mouth, a silent plea to indulge in the desire that had been building between you. 

You couldn't help but sigh, your exasperation giving way to a soft laugh. "Prick... You worked it out," you admitted. “You always spoil the twists.”

Satoru chuckled quietly under his breath, his hand still resting on your cheek, his fingers continuing their sensual trail along your jawline. It was as though he couldn't make a simple movement without infusing it with an enticing quality.

His gaze remained fixated on your lips, their perfection and inviting allure captivating his attention. The alcohol-induced haze seemed to have amplified his desires, leaving him irresistibly drawn to the intimacy that lingered between you.

Satoru leaned in, his warm breath tickling your ear, and he posed a question that sent a shiver down your spine. "You wanna finish this game?"

"What, are you John Kramer now?"

But Satoru appeared to be paying little attention to your words, his chest rising and falling against yours as his breath grew heavier. He moved in closer, brushing his lips tantalisingly against your own, teasingly slow and maddeningly tempting, but not a real kiss.

Once more, he whispered against your ear, his voice filled with longing. "You're so beautiful," he groaned, his words sending a jolt of desire coursing through your body.

"You spoiled the film for me, 'toru," you grumbled, a playful frown on your face. "Make it up to me."

Satoru's breath still lingered against your ear as he responded with a husky murmur, "I can think of a few ways." His tongue began to tease your jawline, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Fuckin’ tease. So soft ‘n’ perfect, and I want you..." he muttered, his words a seductive melody that continued to set your senses ablaze.

Frustrated by the teasing and unable to resist any longer, you rolled your eyes and lunged towards Satoru, overshooting slightly and accidentally bumping his nose. In the first few seconds, he seemed stunned, caught off guard by the sudden embrace. But as realisation dawned, he responded fiercely and passionately, wrapping his arms around you and pressing himself into you, the connection intensifying with each passing moment.

Your hand fumbled in an attempt to caress Satoru's face but ended up getting tangled in his hair. Satoru, equally tipsy, giggled and attempted to steady you by grabbing your shoulder but nearly lost balance himself, tipping into the sofa cushions.

Your mouths meshed together, a flurry of enthusiastic, sloppy kisses—wrestling match of lips and tongues, each trying to find a rhythm but failing gloriously. You broke apart momentarily, wiping your mouths and laughing at yourselves and the mess you had made.

He struggled to catch his breath, panting heavily. "Wow..." he murmured, his voice husky and strained. "Where’d that come from?"

You laced your fingers into his hair, tugging slightly, and kissed up the column of his neck, whispering into his ear, "You spoiled all the fun. Make it up to me."

Satoru's body responded almost immediately to your touch, a guttural sound escaping him as desire surged through him. He was at the mercy of your presence, and the intensity of his longing for you only grew by the second. 

"Mm..." he managed, his voice thick with desire. "You're so demanding. I like that." His grip on your chin was firm but gentle as he pulled you closer, your faces inches apart. "Kiss me again," he requested, his desire palpable in his voice.

Satoru shuddered and let out a low, primal sound as you kissed him, the electricity between you electrifying the very air. He attempted to say something, but you drowned his words with your passionate kisses, losing yourselves in the intoxicating connection. Your tongues danced and intertwined, the taste of vodka on his lips adding to the fervour of the moment. He trembled, unable to contain his reaction to your touch, surrendering to the sensations that coursed through him.

The feel of your fingers running through his hair and the sensation of your tongue against his neck drove him wild. He wrapped one arm securely around your body, pulling you closer, fitting together like two puzzle pieces that belonged perfectly—exclusively—to each other. The world around you faded into the background, leaving only the two of you, consumed by the intensity of your desire and the magnetic pull you shared.

You shifted on the couch, straddling Satoru, the chemistry between you undeniable as you continued your passionate kiss. Satoru gasped and let out a low moan, his eyes closing as he surrendered to the desire that surged within him. His grip on your hips tightened, his fingers flexing and exploring the curves of your body, desperate and hungry.

Your mouths danced in a wild frenzy, tongues intertwining. Every touch, every movement, sent electricity through both of you. Satoru struggled to contain himself, your presence rendering him powerless in the most enticing way. His hands roamed up your thighs, teasing and tempting, the sensation leaving you both breathless.

Slowly, you ground against each other, the pleasure intensifying with each movement. Satoru groaned softly, his head rolling to the side as he fought to maintain a semblance of control. But the intimate contact and suggestive position made it nearly impossible for him to hold back completely.

Whispering again, his voice husky and strained with lust, he let out a breathless, "Oh, my God..."

Satoru's deep groans filled the room, his pretty blue eyes now nearly rolled back into his head, completely consumed by the intense desire coursing through him. His grip on you tightened, almost painfully so, as he clung to you desperately, unable to get enough.

You continued to grind against him, kissing, biting, and sucking his neck in a frenzied display of passion. Satoru's control was slipping away rapidly. His fingers flexed around your hips, exerting a pressure that bordered on pain, but he was powerless to stop himself. Lust had transformed him into an unbridled animal.

"No... No, no, no..." he groaned under his breath, his voice strained and filled with desperation. "This is... Too much... I can't take much more of this..."

His movements against you grew more urgent, the veneer of control slipping away as he allowed his desires to guide him. Satoru's movements grew more uncoordinated, and he seemed to have lost all concern for your comfort. His focus was solely on his own pleasure, his desire pushing him to the brink of abandon.

He pressed himself against you, moaning deeply as he buried his face in your neck, his grip on your hips unrelenting. His tongue and lips moved sloppily across your skin, and he seemed to have surrendered to the overwhelming sensations that were coursing through his body. His movements were fueled by a deep lust that made it seem like no one but you could satisfy him.

He pressed his body against yours with an urgent pace, each movement dictated by an insatiable craving. You could feel the pressure of his teeth against your skin as he sucked hard, his whispered words barely audible in the midst of his lust-fueled frenzy.

"S-stop…! I-I... Need to... Need to..." he stammered, his struggle for coherence evident as he fought against the consuming desire.

But you felt his rhythmic movements, a desperate rocking that reflected the depth of his longing, and you knew better. He was painfully hard, and he needed you too badly to stop now. He could feel the pre-cum dripping down the length of his aching cock, confined by his boxers and layers of clothing. The warm, wet stickiness coated the cotton of his underwear, but he wished more than anything that it was your skin.

His legs twitched, and his grip on your hips remained tight, a lifeline as if he feared you might slip away. His forehead glistened with sweat, his heavy breaths filling the air, passion that holding him captive. He had become a vessel, lost in the overwhelming storm of desire, struggling to regain control even as he knew he was slipping further away.

The desperation in Satoru's voice was palpable, a clear indication of the battle raging within him. You were on the edge of concern for his well-being, but the potent mix of desire and alcohol clouded your judgement. He was slipping further into the abyss of lust, his once coherent thoughts succumbing to the overpowering need.

His hips moved up and down against you, his body aching for release, his muscles flexing and tensing in his struggle to maintain a semblance of control. "Stop... Just... Can't..." he groaned in frustration. "Oh, please, God I need to..."

"C'mon, 'toru. Take what m'giving you and make it up to me," you whispered into his ear.

Satoru's face flushed, and he choked on his breath, trying to comprehend your words amidst the chaos of his senses. After a moment, the meaning of your demand seemed to register, and his voice faltered as he attempted to respond. But words failed him, and all that escaped were incomprehensible babblings of pleasure and need. 

"P-please... I... Can't... It's too g-good. Oh, fuck..." he struggled to articulate, the intensity of the moment rendering him nearly incoherent.

A loud, primal moan escaped Satoru as he reached his orgasm, the intensity of the pleasure overwhelming him as he gasped and shuddered. You pulled back, drunkenly giggling as you teased him. Your fingers ran through his sweaty hair, pushing the damp strands away from his eyes.

"Aw... You came already?" you taunted.

Satoru's body trembled with the aftermath of pleasure. Your touch was almost too much for him to bear as he rested his head on your chest, his eyes wide open, his mind temporarily blank as he grappled with the enormity of what had just transpired. He was so lost in his own satisfaction that he failed to fully grasp your teasing.

"Mm... Yeah," he mumbled, his voice tinged with embarrassment. "Sorry... I... Lost control."

Still shaking, Satoru looked at you, his flushed face and trembling body bearing witness to the intense release he had experienced. He attempted to speak again, but only a low groan escaped his lips.

"So needy," you remarked.

Satoru appeared completely exhausted, as if he had just completed a gruelling marathon rather than experiencing the intense pleasure that had overcome him during your passionate encounter. The intensity of the moment had left its mark, and he remained lost in the aftermath, struggling to regain his composure and find the right words to express himself.

Satoru continued to tremble, his body still awash in waves of pleasure and clouded by the effects of the vodka. Your teasing and taunting in these vulnerable moments made his heart race, and he responded with a lack of shame.

"Fuck, I am... And I'll admit it, too… God, I really am pathetic. I got off in... In so little time," he confessed, his words carrying a sense of unabashed satisfaction.

You smiled and tenderly caressed his flushed cheeks, cupping them in your hands and feeling the warmth of his skin against your palms. His proximity, your words, and the sensuality of the moment had his heart racing, and he couldn't help but respond to your every move.

"It's cute... So cute, so slutty," you whispered, your voice filled with affection.

Experimentally, you rolled your hips against him, biting your lip provocatively. Satoru's body reacted immediately, his breath quickening as he tilted his head, his eyes filled with desire. His hands instinctively gripped your hips once more, and a cute squeak escaped his lips as you continued to caress him, your hips moving in a slow and sensual rhythm.

You giggled and rolled your hips again, squishing his cheeks in your hands. "Mmm, you're so cute when you're drunk..."

Satoru was still sensitive, and your movements sent shivers of pleasure coursing through him. His own desire remained unabated, and he couldn't help but respond to your playful advances, the intensity of the moment making it impossible for him to resist.

"Mm... Mmm... God..."

Satoru's body responded yet again, his breaths growing heavy and laboured. His heart raced, each beat echoing loudly in his ears, his trembling hands betraying the intensity of his desire.

"N-no... Not like this... S-stop..." he mumbled, his words slurring together, unable to distinguish between his body's reaction to lust and the effects of alcohol. "It's... T-too much..."

"Needy, needy slut," you continued to taunt.

Your kisses on his neck and the sensation of your fingers through his hair sent electric shocks of pleasure through his body. He was losing himself completely in his response to your touch, the boundaries between pleasure and the haze of intoxication blurring.

"Mm... Mmm... No... No, stop..." he begged, his words transforming into a plea. Your lips on his neck were driving him wild, eliciting loud moans and gasps from deep within him.

Satoru let out a low-pitched moan as you teased and whispered sinful words into his ear. You overwhelmed him, and even though he knew it was all a game, he found himself playing into it more than he let on. His body was completely at your mercy, and he felt his muscles tensing and contracting as he tried to hold back from cumming again, still so sensitive from the last time.

"Stop…! Too much... I-I know what you're doing... I-I... Can't take it..." he gasped. "’S too much... You're killing me..." he moaned.

Satoru's control over his body had vanished entirely at this moment. Lost in the whirlpool of lust, he was begging for more. His voice shook as he protested, his whole body trembling as he struggled to maintain some semblance of restraint. Unable to stop himself, he leaned into you, his head tilting as you kissed, licked, and caressed his neck.

"Needy, pathetic slut," you murmured into his ear.

"Too... Fuck... Mmmm...." he mumbled, his voice hoarse and his body writhing. "Please..." he begged. "Don't... Do that... I can't stop... Not like this... Please..."

He heard every taunt you said, but the overpowering rush of euphoria had him gasping and moaning, unable to hold back any longer. He gave in.

Satoru's body trembled as he came again, his moans escaping his lips incoherently. His eyes were rolled back in sheer ecstasy, his face contorted in pleasure. Afterward, he remained still and silent for a moment, basking in the afterglow of his release. His breathing slowly calmed, and he stared blankly into space, lost in the post-orgasmic haze.

As the credits of the film rolled on the television, you continued to stroke his hair and affectionately kissed his cheek. "Cutie, so blissed out," you murmured.

Satoru's heart beat slowly and gently, his body relaxed and content. He seemed to be in a state of pure satisfaction.

"Mm... Mmm... H-hm...?" he mumbled in response.

Satoru smiled and brought his fingers up to his cheek, where you had kissed him. He ran them softly across his face, savouring the lingering sensation. He was gradually regaining his sense of self, but a look of contentment still lingered. He rested his head back on the sofa and wrapped his arms around your shoulders.

"You… You know how to make a guy's legs go weak," he murmured, smiling lazily.

You smirked and rocked your hips against him slowly, watching him hiss through gritted teeth. "Seems like it, yeah."

Satoru let out a low growl of desire and tightened his grip on your shoulders, his fingers digging into your skin. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" he asked, his voice laced with a mix of playfulness and desire.

You tilted your head coyly, running your fingers along his jawline. "Maybe. Is that a problem?"

He chuckled softly, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine. "Not at all. In fact, I think it's only fair. You’re having fun teasing me, driving me nuts."

You let out a laugh. "Teasing is an art form. I think I’ve mastered it."

Satoru grinned, his eyes sparkling. "Consider me your willing canvas."

You playfully leaned in closer, brushing your lips against his ear. "Oh, I have many more colours to paint with."

His breath hitched, and he swallowed hard. "I look forward to the masterpiece."

With a playful wink, you moved away, giving him a moment to catch his breath.

"Mmm.... God, you're insufferable..." Satoru murmured. His cheeks burned a rosy pink as he squirmed a bit under your rocking against him, but he did nothing to fight or stop it. "Too much..." 

He seems close to losing himself to you again. He turned his head away from you and pressed his forehead against the sofa. He scrunched his eyes shut and just groaned.

"You can take some more, Satoru," you drawled.

His expression hinted at both pleasure and annoyance. Satoru grimaced and squirmed against the sofa. His eyes opened and he looked up at you, his face flushed and his body shaking a bit.

"No I... I can't... I'm too weak for this..." he mumbled, his words slurred with a mix of pleasure and annoyance. He was completely overwhelmed by your tease, but his body couldn't really help but respond to you.

"N-no... Too much... I... I c-can't..." he gasped. “Not again, not again…”

You leaned in closer, your voice low and tempting. "Are you sure, Satoru? You're enjoying this."

Satoru's resolve was weakening rapidly, and he bit his lower lip, struggling to maintain some semblance of self-control. "I... I really should... I should stop you," he stammered, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

"You should," you teased, brushing your lips against his ear. "But will you?"

He let out a frustrated groan, torn between the intense pleasure you were offering and his own desire to exercise restraint. "Fuck me," he muttered, his voice a mixture of desire and frustration.

You continued to move against him slowly, your lips tracing a delicate path along his jawline. Satoru's grip on your shoulders tightened, his breath hitching as he struggled with the sensations overwhelming his body.

"Come on, Satoru," you purred. "Just a little more... Give in to me."

He hesitated, his willpower waning, and you could see the internal struggle playing out in his expressive eyes. Finally, with a shuddering sigh, he gave in, his resistance crumbling. 

"Alright... A little more," he whispered, surrendering to the intoxicating pleasure you offered.

You snickered and kept rocking your hips against him. "Look at me."

"Mmm... What?" Satoru murmured. 

He was slowly getting more and more worked up again. His words were getting harder to understand. He seems to be losing his ability to think straight. His head rested gently against the couch cushions, his eyes half-closed, his furrowed eyebrows a testament to his focus on every exquisite sensation you offered—your words, your voice, your touch—all conspiring to drive him to the brink of ecstasy. He was far too busy focusing on the pleasure of your body against his to hear your words.

"I... I can't focus... Can't stop it…!" he whimpered, his words barely reaching your ears.

You laughed and stripped your t-shirt off. "Keep your eyes on me, yeah?"

Satoru's eyes flickered at the sight of your chest, his jaw going slack, but he tried desperately to keep them focused as he groaned and squirmed against the sofa. 

"Yes... Y-yes... Oh, fuck me… Too much... Mm... Mmm."

Satoru's self-control was hanging by a thread, the tempting display before him driving him wild with desire. He tried to hold your gaze, but it was a challenge as the pleasure intensified.

"Just a little more," you coaxed, knowing exactly how to push his buttons.

Satoru's breathing grew ragged as he struggled to maintain focus. He reached up and cupped your face, his fingers trembling with the effort to stay composed.

"I... I can't hold back," he gasped, his voice thick with desire and frustration.

You leaned in, capturing his lips in a kiss, intensifying the sensations coursing through his body. His mouth, warm and soft and eager, tasted like the vodka you had indulged in, but that wasn’t what made you feel so drunk. Satoru's grip on you tightened.

He struggled to maintain focus as you leaned in closer, your voice a sultry whisper against his ear. "Let go, Satoru. Just for a little while..."

He gasped, feeling the temptation building in the pit of his stomach. "I... I can't..."

"You can," you encouraged, your breath warm against his skin. "You deserve this, ‘toru."

His body trembled, torn between his desire to hold on and the allure of surrendering to pleasure. "Just... A little more," he whispered, his resistance crumbling as he gave in to the mounting ecstasy.

You bit your lip and guided his hands to your tits, still grinding against him. There was a look of shock on his face but he seemed to be doing his best to keep his eyes on you. The intensity of your connection continued to build as Satoru's touch grew bolder. His moans and whimpers filled the room, mingling with your own sighs of pleasure. You maintained eye contact with him, a sultry smile dancing on your lips as you revelled in his desperation that we wore so brazenly.

Satoru's fingers explored every curve and contour of your chest, his grip growing tighter as his need intensified. He couldn't tear his gaze away from your eyes, from your body. 

"Mm.... Oh, fuck-fuck-fuck," he murmured as your hips continued rocking against him. He whimpered and let out a few soft moans as the sensation built. "God..." 

"Yeah? How's that, hm? Needy boy," you teased.

"Mmm…! Oh, God... So much..." Satoru murmurs as his hands continued fondle your chest.

His body was so sensitive that constantly squirmed and his breath hitched and trembled. His grip on you tightened as he continued moving his hands across your tits and squeezing the soft, supple flesh. His words had almost become completely incoherent, reduced to just desperate moans and half-sentence fragments.

"Oh, God... Need you…! Please… Mmmm..."

But just before he could fall into bliss, you caught him, pulling yourself away.

Satoru gasped and squirmed, disoriented by the sudden change. Confusion and fear laced his voice as he whimpered, desperately seeking understanding. "What's... What's wrong? Did I do something wrong?" he whined, his vulnerability on full display. "Do I... Do I need to beg more?"

His eyes, wide and imploring, pleaded for reassurance and guidance. Meanwhile, you grinned mischievously and knelt down in front of him, leaning on his knees.

"You've made quite a mess, ‘toru," you cooed, a musical edge to your voice.

His eyes widened, his gaze dropping to his sweatpants. Horror washed over his features as he noticed the conspicuous wet patch where his cum had soaked through, his face now a canvas of embarrassment.

"Oh.... Oh, fuck..." he whimpered, mortification taking over. Frantically, he shifted and tried to hide himself, begging you to avert your gaze. "Oh god... Don't look... Please, please..."

As he tried to cover himself with his hands and turn away, but you wrenched his wrists away and pinned them to the sofa beside him.

"Look at me."

"Mmm... No! No, please…!" Satoru protested.

He squirmed and fought you, trying desperately to move away and trying to pull his wrists away from you. He seemed terrified at the thought of you seeing him like this, all soiled and ruined and dripping.

"Don't look at it... Please..." he begged, tears welling up in his eyes, his cheeks flushing a brilliant cherry-red that you could see clearly, even in the low-light.

You smiled sweetly and teasingly pressed a quick kiss to the wet patch. "So needy."

You maintained your hold on Satoru's wrists, preventing him from averting his gaze or escaping your teasing advances. His body jerked and he lets out a moan. His face contorted with a mix of shame, pleasure, and fear. He writhed beneath you, caught between wanting to escape the situation and being unable to deny the arousal he felt. His protests were weak, his resolve crumbling in the face of you. He grew more desperate, his tear-filled eyes reflecting a mix of pleasure and distress.

"Don't look at it…! Please..." 

Ignoring his pleas, you pressed another teasing kiss to the wet patch, causing him to whimper and moan in response.

"Please... No... Stop it…! It feels good, but... Please..." he mumbled, his body trembling beneath your touch.

Your snickers filled the air as you continued your playful assault, leaving a trail of kisses along the fabric of his inner thighs. Your fingers maintained their firm grip on his wrists, ensuring he remained under your control, his vulnerability and desire laid bare before you.

Satoru whimpered and struggled to control the mounting pleasure surging through his body. He gasped and moaned, his hips involuntarily bucking into the air, seeking more stimulation.

"Ahhh…! Ahhh... Please... Oh, fuck! Mmmm..." he continued to whimper, lost in the throes of desire.

Your teasing words only fueled his need further, his desperation evident in every breathy plea and every quiver of his body. "Aw, you're so cute, ‘toru."

As you skillfully removed his sweatpants, leaving him in only his boxers, his eyes widened and his gaze turned even more intense.

"Ple... Please... Please, more..." he begged, his voice a husky mix of need and yearning.

You pressed your hand to the soaked patch on his boxers, feeling the heat and dampness, relishing in his vulnerability. Your fingers curved around his throbbing erection, and you palmed him through the material with just the barest pressure. His pleas for more were music to your ears.

"More? Yeah, you want more?" you teased, your tone laced with innocence that belied the intensity of the situation.

"Mmm... Ahh…! No, no, no please... Please… C-can’t take more…" he stammered, torn between desire and the overwhelming sensations he was experiencing.

"But you just said you wanted more," you teased with a pout.

Satoru's pleas had reached a feverish pitch, his desperation palpable in his voice and movements.

"Oh, fuck... Please... More, more, more..." he begged, tears streaming down his flushed cheeks.

You maintained a playful demeanour, revelling in his heightened desire. As you tugged his boxers down, exposing him completely, he gasped audibly. His cock sprung free, slapping his stomach. Your jaw dropped at the sheer volume of cum and pre that had accumulated. You couldn't help but be drawn to the way his hips responded eagerly, pushing into the air with an instinctive urgency. His pretty cock—flushed, dripping, hard and aching—twitched as precum drooled from his slit.

"That's what I thought," you said smugly, trailing your fingers trough his mess and then spitting into your hand.

Your actions only intensified his yearning, and as you used your saliva-slicked hand to tease and pump him, the sounds of wet friction filled the room. With each and every drag of your hand down the shaft of his hard, aching shaft there was a loud, satisfying ‘schlick’ sound that accompanied his whimpers.

"Yeah? Is that enough or do you still need more?" you taunted, a smirk curving your lips.

Netflix's 'Are you still watching?' message went unnoticed, as you were both thoroughly engrossed in your homemade entertainment.

Satoru could hardly form words, the pleasure now overwhelming any ability to express himself coherently. He let out a strangled moan, his hips involuntarily frotting into your hand as he gasped for air, unable to respond beyond the primal sounds escaping him. His body shook and his hips bucked desperately, more precum drooling from the cutely flushed pink tip.

"H-hnnn... Ahhh... More..." he managed to stammer, his voice barely coherent, lost in the sea of sensation.

You couldn't help but tease, watching him struggle with his need. "Yeah? You gonna be a good slut and keep begging for more?"

His wide, desperate eyes locked onto yours as you continued, each movement sending shockwaves through his trembling body. "P-p-please... Please... God, fuck..." he begged, the words strained and barely forming.

He struggled to communicate his desires amidst the overwhelming pleasure. "I... I n-need... Ahhh…!" he whined loudly, his body convulsing with the effort.

Teasingly, you challenged him and retracted your hand. "Oh? What d'you need, hm? Better use your words and tell me.”

He whimpered and shook his head, desperate for the sensation to return. "G-God... I... I need… Oh... God..." he panted, his desperation palpable. "I need... You need to..."

Teasingly, you prodded him further. "You need me to...?"

But he was beyond the ability to respond with anything more than monosyllabic pleas for more, lost in the overwhelming pleasure. You laughed, toying with him further, adjusting your position and enveloping his slicked cock between your tits, squeezing gently with your hands on either side of them as you began a tantalising movement.

"Isn't this fun?" you teased, taking note of the tremors that coursed through his body. "You're such a cutie."

His features, typically so composed and captivating, were now a canvas of raw emotions. The pleasure surged through him, leaving him helpless in its wake, his body reacting to the intense sensations. Tears streamed down his face in torrents, leaving streaks on his typically flawless skin. His eyes, usually vibrant and full of life, were now swollen and red, the brilliance dimmed by the weight of his desire. Uncontrolled sobs wracked his body, causing his normally steady breaths to hitch and break in heartbreaking cadence.

In that moment, all pretense of strength was lost. His shoulders, usually squared and proud, hunched forward under the weight of his surrender. The weight of the world seemed to bear down on him, crushing the bravado and exposing the raw, unguarded depths of his ache.

His hands, usually so steady and assured in their movements, trembled uncontrollably. Fingers clenched tightly, seeking desperately for something to hold on to, to anchor him amidst the storm of his anguish. Each sob escaped his lips with a wrenching ache, echoing the depths of his desperation.

His eyes rolled back into his head just as his dick bucked against your chest, and your eyes were struggling to find a place to rest on: his flexing abdomen, trembling thighs, quivering lips, shaking hands, twitching cock—a total buffet of expression.

"Almost there, aren't you?"

Satoru let out the loudest groan he could manage and shuddered against your chest. His mouth curled into a tiny, smug smile before his jaw went completely slack. A few seconds later, he came. Your tits were coated in thick spurts of his hot, sticky cum—flooding your skin and dripping down your abdomen. 

"Aw, you've done so, so well... So good for me," you said sweetly.

You could feel him shaking as he writhed and twitched, and it seems he was still caught in the aftershocks. Satoru lay there, his body still trembling. His chest heaved with each labored breath, his mind swimming in the euphoria that engulfed him. You gently stroked his thighs, grounding him and bringing him back to reality, his breathing immediately calming. He couldn't believe what had just happened, how every touch, every sensation, had left him in such a state of blissful exhaustion.

"G... God..." he whispered shakily. His whole body shivered and he continued to breath heavy and hard. "Fuck..."

Satoru breathed heavy and hard, panting as he slowly came back to reality. He was so exhausted and worn out that he could barely form any coherent thoughts, and his eyes were already closing.

"Oh... God..." he stammered and took a deep breath. "That was amazing..." he said softly, looking down at you with a weak smile. He mumbled, still struggling to put a sentence together. "I didn't know—I didn't know it could be like that..."

You smiled and got up off your knees, sitting next to him on the couch. You kissed his cheek. He seemed so vulnerable now that his defenses were gone, and he let out a small sigh before he leaned his head on your shoulder. His hair was still covering his eyes, but you could see the blue glow through the strands.

He lets out a small yawn and blinked slowly as he glanced around, his expression soft but still so very tired. Satoru's smile grew as he looked at you, his eyes filled with a newfound warmth and affection.

You gently brushed a few strands of hair away from his face, your fingers tracing a soothing path across his cheek. "It can be pretty amazing when you're with the right person," you whispered tenderly.

"Yeah," he murmured, his voice soft and sincere. "With the right person… I... I'm so..." he said hoarsely. He sighed and shook his head slightly. "Ah... I'm so tired..." he whimpered, his arms still wrapped around you.

“You still need to clean me up.”

Satoru groaned and pouted, sticking his tongue out at you.

"Oh c'mon... You like it..." he said, trying to sound annoyed but in reality he was still in a dazed, delirious state. His eyes flickered and he blinked slowly.

You raised a brow. "But you made a mess."

He whined again as he continued to cling to you. He seemed so tired that he could fall asleep like this, but not before giving you one last look of annoyance.

You pushed his face into the mess he left on you. "Yeah? See how you like it."

"Ew…! It's all sticky and warm..." he complained as he squirmed and tried to get away from you. He attempted to sound like he was annoyed, but his grin gave him away. He looked very proud of himself. "I'm so tired, just give me a break..." he whined, laughing.

"Clean it up and I'll be your pillow," you teased.

He gave up his attempt of being mad and he smirked a little bit, and his head bobbed as he tried to nod. "Ahhh... Fine, deal," he said with a grin.

His tongue darted out and he sleepily started to lap up the cum he left splattered across your chest. His tongue trailed across you, and he still had it in him to whine against you even as he complied. You cooed at him teasingly and kissed his forehead.

"Aw, there you go."

Satoru chuckled weakly, managing to gather enough energy to clean up the mess he had made. His movements were slow and lethargic, and his eyelids drooped as he worked on the task.

You watched him, a fond smile on your lips. "You're such a dork," you remarked.

"Mmm..." Satoru mumbled in agreement, finally finishing his task. He flopped back against you, a contented look on his face. "Pillow now?" he asked, a hopeful glint in his half-closed eyes.

You chuckled and shifted, allowing him to rest his head against your chest. He sighed in contentment, snuggling closer.

"There you go, sleepyhead. Rest up," you whispered, gently stroking his hair.

He mumbled something incoherent, already drifting off into slumber. You smiled down at him, feeling a warmth in your chest. The night had been a welcome plot twist, to say the very least.

a/n: listen- *grabs your face* listen to me: if you ever, for some godforsaken reason, see gojo satoru walking around, you better send him my way!!!! *shakes vigorously* OKAY????? okay. also, it lives rent free in my head that it is in fact canon that satoru is a lightweight + hates drinking. i will be taking advantage of this knowledge until my dying breath. P.S. I'm from the UK and drinking culture is wayyy diff here, and i have a high tolerance, so apologies if my descriptions of drinking do not match your experiences.

this work belongs to STARRIERKNIGHT . please refrain from plagiarising any of my works and do not repost/translate/modify/copy onto any platforms.

[kitchenisking]

Day 2

Leave Before You Love Me by Sam_Haine - (Rating: Mature, Words: 1,935, sterek)

Derek gets a dose of reality the morning after he and Stiles do the devil's tango and tries to leave before he wakes up.

Mistaken Connections by abrasive91 - (Rating: Mature, Words: 7,062, sterek)

Everybody in Beacon Hills knows the tragedy of Derek Hale and his dead soulmate, Paige Krasikeva. 

Which is why Stiles is extremely confused by the letter from the Department of Soul Connections and Maintenance telling him that Derek is his soulmate.

The Jeep by CelestialVoid  - (Rating: G, Words: 1,140, sterek)

Eli’s sixteen and Stiles wants to give him the Jeep, Derek might need some persuading.

It's Been A Long Time by voidnogitsune - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 3,524, sterek)

It’s just after his eighteenth birthday when Stiles comes to him, hot and hard and practically begging. His hands are white-knuckled, gripping the steering wheel too tight and Derek doesn’t have to be a werewolf to know what this is about.

Stiles stumbles out of the jeep, wiping his palms on his jeans and catching Derek’s eye in the moonlight. He flails backwards, like he hadn’t known Derek would be there the entire drive up, and Derek just smirks back at him, watches the way his pale skin catches in the light, watches the way he bites his lips until they are dark-pink.

“D-Derek. Fancy seeing you out here tonight.”

Your Burning Sun by elisera - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 2,904, sterek)

“We gotta stop meeting like this,” Stiles says, wrapping his arms around Derek’s shoulders and tipping his hips up and forward until they meet Derek’s. A pleased sound escapes Derek; they’re both already half-hard, the scent of Stiles’ arousal filling the night air, thankfully drowning out the smell of the dumpster next to them.

it was always you (can't believe I could not see it all this time) by EvanesDust, S3anchaidh - (Rating: T, Words: 2,569, sterek)

ob·liv·i·ous /əˈblivēəs/ adjective

lacking active conscious knowledge or awareness.

…or the one where the pack helps Derek realize that he’s in love with Stiles.

Derek Didn't Know What To Do But Maybe Stiles Did by tiedtogetherwithadagger - (Rating: T, Words: 13,027, sterek)

He let his head fall onto Stiles’ shoulder with a sigh of relief. He wasn't losing his pack, at least not tonight. Erica would be okay.

“Thank you,” Derek exhaled into Stiles’ hoodie.

“Always,” Stiles said.

A Little Sugar by exclamation - (Rating: Mature, Words: 4,987, sterek)

The first time they had sex, it was after Derek paid Stiles' rent. The second time was after Derek bought Stiles' groceries. It wasn't hard to work out the pattern. Derek hates himself for taking advantage of Stiles and tries to convince him that any form of payment is unnecessary, but he can't seem to break the cycle.

Settle Down by wearing_tearing, whatthehale - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 153,180, sterek)

Stiles is a struggling author barely making ends meet.

Derek is a successful architect whose biological clock is ticking.

Enter a surrogacy agency, two packs, and a particularly sticky and toe curling heat week and you get a match made in heaven.

Not just a house, but a home by alikatastic - (Rating: Not Rated, Words: 2,178, sterek)

The alpha pack was gone, Erica and Boyd were safe, and Isaac was no longer enthralled with Scott. They had needed a place to stay, especially with Peter and Cora sticking around. So, they rebuilt the Hale house, and it was beautiful. Stiles needed it to feel like home, so Stiles made it his goal to make sure the house felt like a place that could be home, so the pack would stay. 

[theworstbiscet]

Deer skizz!? AMAZING

Didn’t post this here yet so: Purpled on the life series TWO aka creators I want to see him interact with

bonus:

Apologies to Scott- I got lazy.