#poker lounge

[merakiui]

omg so i've been rereading book 4 and omg.. the part where mc and grim crash into the lounge and jade and floyd come to their rescue (bc azul told them) is making me so 😵‍💫😵‍💫 like i literally gasped and thought "ah prince charmings <3" biting my fist they're so gwjajdjajsjjs just knowing they'd beat someone up for you is aurjakdnajndjajejsjd i WANT THEM SO BAJEJZJA

Truly charming moray princes. orz uuwaaa I replayed that part after reading your ask and omg they were so ready to beat the life out of us for breaking in, but because we're Shrimpy and Grim we get the main character pass. (˘ ˘ ˘) and when they beat up the Scarabia students for us........ hehe they are so boyfriend/husband/prince/best morays to me. <3 AAAAAAA and the fact that Azul can absolutely hold his own in a magic fight, so all of Octavinelle can beat up troublesome people for you. orz orz orz it's too good...

It's cute to imagine visiting Mostro Lounge at midnight for snacks and having a snack party together. A sleepover at Octavinelle would be so fun!!! >:D

[chairpeople-sitzmaschine]

Gae Aulenti

Natasha Lyonne

[elluminis]

This just in: gotta get surgery

[super-done-dead]

:)

[00valentina-writes00]

Random sevika thoughts/headcanons NSFW

Once Sevika…

• Bent you over her poker table at the Leaky Drop, clearing the cards and chips with one sweep of her arm. She didn’t care who was around; she wanted to make sure everyone knew you were hers.

• Caught you teasing her in public by being overly flirty with someone else. The second you were alone, she had you pinned to the wall, growling in your ear about how you’d pay for that later.

• Kept you in bed all day, completely ignoring work because she couldn’t get enough of you. Every time you tried to leave, she’d pull you back, muttering something about how she wasn’t done with you yet.

• Left marks all over your neck and chest, smirking every time you winced at the sight of them in the mirror. “You wanted to play games, huh? Now wear them with pride.”

• Whispered filthy promises in your ear during a slow dance, her hand slipping lower and lower on your back as the night went on.

• Left you dripping and unsatisfied on purpose, just to punish you for not listening to her earlier. She told you not to wear that dress out, and now she’s going to make you pay for it.

• Made you hold onto her biceps while she completely wrecked you, her smirk growing wider every time you squeezed harder. “C’mon, sweetheart, you can handle more than that.”

• Pulled you into her lap during a poker game, forcing you to sit still while she played. Every now and then, she’d lean down to murmur in your ear, making your cheeks flush as you struggled to keep it together.

• Ruined you so thoroughly that you were too weak to stand afterward. She carried you to bed, lit a cigar, and smirked as she watched you try to catch your breath.

Sevika would…

• Make you apologize for being a brat by kissing her knuckles or her neck, her smug grin letting you know she wasn’t going to make it easy for you.

• Punish you by teasing you with her strap until you were trembling, but never letting you have it until you begged properly.

• Growl in your ear while she’s fucking you, her voice low and rough as she tells you exactly how good you feel.

• Keep you on edge for hours, only letting you finish when she was completely satisfied with how desperate you’d become.

• Look at you like you’re the most delicious thing in the world whenever you wear her favorite outfit, knowing damn well she’s going to tear it off you later.

• Drag her metal arm up your inner thigh, letting the cool touch send shivers through you as she grinned at your reaction.

• Take her time teasing you, kissing every inch of your skin until you were trembling and begging her to stop torturing you. She loves drawing out your pleasure for as long as possible.

• Call you out for trying to act tough in the bedroom. “You think you’re in charge now? Cute. Let’s see how long that lasts.” Spoiler: not long.

• Use her size to completely overwhelm you, pinning you down with one arm while the other worked you over mercilessly.

• Keep her hand on your throat, not enough to hurt but just enough to remind you who’s in control.

• Grab your chin mid-argument and kiss you just to shut you up. She knows you’re mad, but she can’t resist that fire in your eyes, and it’s her favorite way to end any fight.

• Make you beg for her, dragging every whimper and plea out of you before she finally gives you what you want. She loves the power she holds over you in those moments.

• Tie your wrists together with whatever’s nearby—her bandages, a belt, or even her tie—just to keep you from touching her when she’s in a teasing mood.

• Make you wear her shirt and nothing else when you’re lounging around at home. Seeing you wrapped up in her scent gets her every time.

[xoshepard]

i was so excited to have ashley back this playthrough since i think this is the first time i've saved her since LE got released and then the game like barely lets you have any cutscenes w her after she comes back to the normandy :( wtf

[dragon-ascent]

Headcanon that Morax can flirt like CRAZY...except he's not really aware that he's flirting; he's just being sincere.

You see him seated, practicing various styles of traditional calligraphy with dexterous strokes of his brush. When you move closer you realise, as your heart skips several beats, that he's been writing your name - over and over in countless elegant styles.

When you bashfully ask him about it, he responds - with a deadpan expression, "It is a name most beautiful; one that flows from my ink as easily as water in a river."

You subsequently roll around on the floor, not knowing how else to channel your poor flabbergasted heart, as your divine lover calmly continues his calligraphic endeavors.

He'd be creating Mora from his body while you're lounging around on the bed. The deity would sigh, "Ah, all the gold I make cannot compare to this leisurely sight of you at peace."

You stare at him agog as he blinks back at you earnestly. His golden gaze is more intense than the sheen of the Mora, yet his expression is mundane. It takes everything in you not to chew up the pillows.

One day, he's telling you all about his visit to Fontaine, where he sampled some exquisite tasses ragout. He explains how the warm flavors masterfully mingled on his tongue and left him wanting more.

So you ask him, "Is it the most delicious thing you have ever tasted?"

Your god doesn't even hesitate before his answer. "Hm, not at all."

"Then what is?" You expect him to name a traditional Liyuen dish like Adeptus' Temptation, or Jueyun chilli chicken, or...

Morax maintains his beautiful poker face. "I would have to say...you have the most enjoyable taste."

You promptly head to the top of Mt. Tianheng and scream your lungs out.

[neferaskingdom]

♡ Deal Me In | LN4

Summary: What do you do when you're bored on a plane? Play strip poker, lose all your layers, and try not to combust as Lando can’t seem to keep his hands to himself.

LANDO NORRIS MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

The hum of the plane’s engines filled her ears as the small group lounged in plush seats. Y/n sat nestled between Oscar and Max, the remains of a half-eaten dessert table before them. She’d spent most of the evening quietly nursing a cup of hot chocolate and trying to ignore Lando, who now sat across from her, his curls slightly tousled from running his fingers through them all evening. Every so often, Lando would glance in her direction, his eyes crinkling with mischief, and her stomach would twist into knots.

“I’m bored,” Max Fewtrell groaned, slumping dramatically in his seat. “We need entertainment.”

“We’re on a private plane with unlimited snacks,” Oscar pointed out, not looking up from his phone. “How are you bored?”

“Let’s do something fun,” Sam chimed in, a mischievous glint in his eye as he stretched lazily. “Cards?” His tone carried an almost daring edge, like he was already plotting something outrageous.

“Poker?” Lando suggested, leaning forward with a grin.

“Strip poker,” Max countered, his grin widening. “Spice it up.”

Y/n’s cheeks heated instantly. “Strip poker? Really?”

“Why not?” Max said. “It’s just us. We’ll make it fair—you can take off something small like your hoodie or just pay cash. No pressure.”

She hesitated, glancing around. Lando’s eyes were on her, a teasing spark in them. “You in?” he asked, voice soft but challenging.

“Fine,” she relented, trying to appear nonchalant. What’s the worst that could happen?

As the cards were dealt, the tension in the cabin shifted. There was a buzz of excitement in the air that made her pulse race. Lando, turns out was terrible at poker. Absolutely, horrifically terrible. By the second hand, he was down his jacket. The third, his shirt. By the fifth, he was sitting in nothing but his boxers, his bare chest on full display.

“Lando, mate, how are you this bad?” Max laughed, nearly doubling over.

“Poker’s a strategy game,” Oscar chimed in smugly, adjusting his pristine hoodie. “Something he clearly lacks.”

“Shut up, Osc,” Lando shot back, throwing his cards onto the table with mock frustration.

Y/n couldn’t stop glancing at him, every peek sending her pulse racing. The way his muscles moved as he shuffled uncomfortably in his seat, the faint outline of his collarbone under the cabin lights, the hint of a smirk that tugged at his lips whenever he caught her looking—it was almost unbearable. Her crush was spinning out of control, he was so comfortable in his skin. How was he so nonchalant sitting there half-naked like that?

Sam had lost his socks and sweater, and Max was sitting shirtless, laughing at Lando’s misfortune. Oscar, however, sat fully clothed, a devious glint in his eye as he slid his winnings closer. He was playing them all, and they could do nothing to stop him.

“You’re a menace,” Sam muttered, glaring at Oscar as he folded yet another hand. “Do you plan on bankrupting us?”

“Maybe,” Oscar replied smoothly, his grin unrepentant. “But you’ll never know.”

“Y/n, your turn,” Oscar said, and she bit her lip, focusing on her cards. Her hoodie was already gone, leaving her in a fitted shirt and shorts. She’d never been more aware of how close Lando was sitting, their thighs brushing whenever one of them shifted. Each accidental touch sent electricity up her spine, her thoughts tumbling into dangerous territory.

Lando leaned over to peek at her cards, his shoulder brushing hers. “You’ve got this,” he murmured, his breath warm against her ear. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest, her thoughts a chaotic mess of 'he’s so close' and 'does he even realize what he’s doing to me?'

The closeness was overwhelming. She caught the faint scent of his cologne, something subtle but undeniably him, and it left her dizzy. Her fingers fumbled on her cards, the tips of her ears burning as his gaze lingered a moment too long.

She lost the hand, of course. How could she focus with Lando practically pressed against her?

“Tough luck,” he teased, leaning back with a lazy grin. “Maybe next round.”

She tried to glare at him but failed miserably, her lips quirking despite herself. “Maybe if someone wasn’t distracting me.”

“Oh, it’s my fault now?” he shot back, his grin widening. His knee bumped hers under the table, lingering just a second too long. Her skin tingled where they touched, the casual intimacy making her head spin. He shifted slightly and then, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, placed his hand on her exposed thigh. The warmth of his palm seeped through her skin, igniting a spark that made her breath hitch. He didn’t move it, didn’t acknowledge it, and yet the sensation was impossible to ignore.

Her mind raced, thoughts bouncing between 'is this intentional?' and 'why do I like this?' Her heart thudded wildly as she tried to focus on the game, but his touch was all she could think about. Every move of her hand, every glance at her cards, every time he leaned closer—she was hyper-aware of his presence, of his hand casually resting on her leg like it belonged there.

As the game continued, Y/n found herself hyper-focused on Lando. The way he laughed—loud and unrestrained—when Max lost his watch in a side bet. The way his fingers drummed against the table when he was thinking. The way his eyes would dart to her, softening in a way that made her feel like the only person in the room. Every movement, every laugh, every word felt amplified.

By the time they called it quits, Lando was down to his boxers, and Y/n was fighting the urge to combust. The sight of him was doing things to her sanity. She stood to stretch, her shirt riding up slightly, and she caught Lando’s gaze flickering to her exposed skin. Heat bloomed in her cheeks as she quickly tugged it back down, her heart racing at the thought that he’d noticed.

“Well, that was fun,” Max declared, tossing his cards on the table dramatically.

"Fun?" Sam scoffed, running a hand through his hair. "It was brutal. I lost everything but my dignity."

"Dignity?" Oscar quipped, leaning back smugly. "I didn’t know you had any left after that last round."

Sam shot him a glare, while Max burst out laughing. "You’re just mad because the kid hustled you," Max teased, pointing a finger at Sam. "Admit it, Oscar’s the real MVP of this game."

“More like the real pain in my ass,” Sam muttered under his breath, crossing his arms.

“Hey, don’t hate the player, hate the game,” Oscar said with a grin, scooping up the cards like a seasoned dealer. "Speaking of which, anyone want a rematch?"

“No way,” Lando groaned, leaning back in his seat. “I’ve got nothing left to lose. Literally."

"You’re still wearing your boxers," Max pointed out with a sly grin. "I mean, if you’re up for it…"

Lando threw a pillow at him. "Not a chance, mate."

Y/n couldn’t help but laugh at their antics, the tension from the game easing into lighthearted banter. Sam stretched with an exaggerated yawn. "Alright, I’m calling it. I need sleep after this emotional rollercoaster."

As Sam and Max bickered playfully on their way to the back of the plane, Oscar leaned over to Y/n with a conspiratorial grin. "Not bad for your first game. You almost didn’t lose everything."

"Almost," she replied, rolling her eyes, though her smile gave her away. Oscar winked, then retreated back to his own seat, leaving her alone with Lando.

Y/n sank back into her seat, exhaustion and adrenaline making her head spin. Lando plopped down beside her, his knee brushing hers again. This time, neither of them moved away. The space between them felt charged.

“You’re quiet,” Lando said, his voice low enough that only she could hear. His tone was so gentle, so intimate, it sent a shiver down her spine. She swallowed hard, trying to steady her breath, but her heart hammered against her ribs. The way his voice wrapped around her name, the way it felt like they were the only two people in the world—it was overwhelming.

Lando tilted his head, studying her with that easy, unreadable expression that always made her chest feel tight. “What are your plans for the break?” he asked, his voice low and smooth, the hum of the plane’s engines only amplifying how intimate it felt.

Y/n shrugged, trying to sound casual despite her pulse hammering. “Nothing special. Probably just rot in bed and catch up on sleep,” she replied, offering a small laugh.

He chuckled softly, the sound rumbling and warm. “Solid plan,” he said, leaning back slightly. “Honestly, same. Once I get through some work, I’m thinking of crashing for a few days. Might actually try doing nothing for once.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but her words caught in her throat as his hand reached out toward her. His fingers brushed a strand of hair away from her face, the touch so light it almost tickled, leaving a faint warmth in its wake. Her breath hitched, and her heart skipped a beat as his thumb lingered, trailing down to the edge of her ear.

He stopped there, thumbing at the small earring she’d forgotten she was even wearing, his eyes flickering between it and her face. A small smile tugged at his lips, like he’d found some secret he wasn’t planning to share. “This is pretty,” he murmured, his voice low, intimate.

Her throat went dry. She wanted to say something—anything—but all she managed was a quiet, “Oh, uh… thanks.”

He dropped his hand and leaned back, as if the moment hadn’t completely knocked the wind out of her. “So,” he said, seamlessly changing the subject, “what’s fun to do in London? I’m staying there in December for a bit before heading back to Monaco.”

It took her a second to process the words, her mind still stuck on the ghost of his touch. “Oh, uh, there’s… there’s a lot,” she said quickly, eager to cover her awkward pause. “Winter Wonderland in Hyde Park is great for Christmas stuff, and there are the lights on Oxford Street. Ice skating at Somerset House is really popular too. Oh, and the Southbank Christmas markets—you’d love those.”

Lando smiled, the kind of smile that made her knees feel weak, even though she was sitting. “You really know all the good spots,” he said, his voice softer now, almost teasing. “Maybe you should show me around.”

Her heart thudded painfully in her chest. She managed a weak laugh, trying to brush off the tension. “What, like a date?”

His smile turned into a grin, slow and deliberate. “Exactly,” he said without hesitation, his voice dropping just slightly. “But only if you want it to be.”

Y/n’s brain short-circuited. His words hung in the air, and for a moment, the world seemed to tilt on its axis. Was he serious? Did he mean that the way it sounded?

She opened her mouth to respond, but her words tangled together in a mess of vowels and half-formed thoughts. “I-I—well, I don’t—uh…”

His hand moved again, and her breath hitched as he rested it lightly on her thigh. His thumb began tracing slow, deliberate circles, the motion so casual yet so maddeningly distracting that her entire focus narrowed to the warmth of his touch.

He didn’t rush her. His gaze stayed locked on hers, steady and patient, the weight of his hand grounding her even as her mind spiraled.

“Hey,” he said gently, his voice low and soothing, cutting through her spiraling thoughts. “It’s just me. No pressure. But… I’d really like to take you out. Properly.”

Her pulse was racing, her skin tingling where his thumb continued its slow, lazy circles. Was this actually happening? Was he really asking her out? And why did his touch feel so good? like he already knew what made her heart skip and her breath hitch?

She nodded, a tiny, almost imperceptible movement, but it was enough. A grin spread across Lando’s face, and his thumb stilled, pressing gently into her thigh for just a moment before he pulled his hand away.

“That’s settled then,” he said, his tone light but undeniably pleased.

The moment felt like it should have ended there, but then he shivered dramatically, crossing his arms with a loud sigh. “Man, it’s freezing in here,” he complained, his voice breaking the tension like a knife through butter.

She blinked, startled by the sudden change, and then he was leaning back, shouting toward the rear of the plane. “Max! Throw me your hoodie, mate!”

“What happened to yours?” Max called back, clearly annoyed.

“Lost it to poker!” Lando replied, unapologetic. “Now, come on, be a bro!”

With an exaggerated groan, Max hurled a hoodie forward. Lando caught it one-handed, pulling it over his head with a satisfied grin. “Thanks, mate,” he said cheerfully.

Before she could process what had just happened, Lando leaned in close again, the sudden proximity making her stomach flip. He pressed a soft, fleeting kiss to her cheek, the warmth of his lips lingering like a brand.

"Night, beautiful," he murmured, his voice a smooth caress that made her breath hitch.

And then he leaned back, resting his head against the seat with an exaggerated sigh. Within moments, his eyes drifted shut, his breathing evening out as he started to doze.

Y/n sat frozen, her hand instinctively lifting to touch the spot on her cheek where his lips had been. Her thoughts spiraled out of control, Did that just happen? Is this a dream? Her heart pounded so loudly she could barely hear the others laughing and bickering in the background.

She snuck a glance at him, his face now peaceful in sleep, his hair messy against the back of the seat. Even asleep, he was unfairly attractive. Her mind replayed every moment—the warmth of his hand on her thigh, the teasing way he’d said “beautiful,” the feel of his lips against her skin—and she was certain she wasn’t going to survive the rest of the flight without combusting. What the hell just happened? she thought, pressing her lips together to hide the smile threatening to break free.

[solxamber]

Could you do adeuce & the overblot gang (separately) trying one of those period cramp simulators like in those videos?

Overblot Gang + Adeuce + Rollo trying period simulators!

part 2 with vice housewardens + Kalim

I found the idea funny and added Rollo for funsies, I hope you don't mind <3

Adeuce

Ace, being the daredevil he is, straps on the period cramp simulator first with a cocky grin. “How bad can it be?” he says, glancing at you like this is no big deal.

The moment you turn it on, though, his face transforms. “W-What the—” he gasps, doubling over like someone just punched him in the gut. “Okay, okay, this is—AHHH, NOPE, TURN IT OFF!” He’s flailing now, hands waving in panic as he tries to yank the device off, hopping around like a fish out of water.

Deuce, meanwhile, watches with wide eyes, realizing it’s his turn next. “Uh, maybe we shouldn’t—”

“Nah, nah, Deuce, you gotta try it,” Ace wheezes between pained groans. “It’s character building!”

Deuce, ever the trooper, reluctantly puts it on. At first, he’s stoic. “I can handle this. It’s just a simulation—OH MY SEVENS!” He crumples into a chair, gripping his stomach as though his life depends on it, tears actually forming in his eyes. “HOW DO PEOPLE LIVE LIKE THIS?!”

Ace, still recovering on the floor, gives him a thumbs up. “We’re never… talking back to anyone going through this… ever again.”

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle approaches the simulator with the same seriousness he applies to everything else. “This is for educational purposes,” he declares, strapping it on confidently. “I’ll endure it to better understand—”

The moment it starts, his face turns a deep crimson—not from anger, but from sheer pain. His knees buckle, and he grips the nearest chair for dear life, a strained gasp escaping his lips. “T-This can’t be real,” he mutters through gritted teeth. “This is…an injustice to all rules of nature!”

By level three, he’s gasping for air, holding onto the table as if it’s his only lifeline. “TURN IT OFF! THIS SHOULD BE ILLEGAL!”

You switch it off, and Riddle stands there, disheveled and panting, brushing his hair back. “We shall… never speak of this again,” he declares, with his pride barely intact.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona sits back with a smug grin as you offer him the simulator. “Tch, weaklings. I’ve dealt with worse.” he says, lounging lazily as he straps it on. His confidence is off the charts—until you turn it on.

His ears immediately flatten, his eyes go wide, and his whole body tenses up. “The hell is this?!” he growls, clutching his stomach with one hand while the other grips the couch.

By level two, he’s sweating and lowkey whimpering. “Turn it off, turn it off right now.” His tail is thrashing, and there’s no trace of his former bravado. “Whoever made this… is a sadist.”

When you finally switch it off, he glares at you, still slumped on the couch, breathing heavily. “If you tell anyone about this, herbivore, I swear…”

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul, ever the schemer, thinks he’s prepared for anything. “This is merely an experiment,” he says, carefully adjusting his glasses as he straps the simulator on. “I’ll be able to handle it with ease.”

As soon as it starts, though, his confident smirk falters. His back stiffens, and he clutches the arms of his chair, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. “Th-This is...more than I anticipated,” he gasps, his face pale as he tries to remain composed.

By the time you hit level three, Azul’s glasses are askew, and he’s gripping the edge of his desk like his life depends on it. “MAKE IT STOP! I’LL GIVE YOU ANYTHING! HALF-PRICE AT MONSTRO LOUNGE, JUST TURN IT OFF!”

Jamil Viper

Jamil raises an eyebrow at the challenge but doesn’t say no. “This is nothing,” he mumbles, strapping the device on like it’s a task on his daily to-do list. You turn it on, and for a few seconds, he seems unfazed. His poker face is strong.

But as the intensity increases, you see his eye twitch. Then, he’s hunched over, muttering a stream of complaints under his breath, his face contorted in a rare expression of suffering. “This… this is inhuman,” he grits out, shaking his head. “I could’ve been cooking, cleaning, or literally anything else.”

At level four, he’s pressing a hand against his stomach, sweating bullets. “How do people get anything done like this? Who’s responsible for this?!”

Vil Schoenheit

Vil, in true Vil fashion, approaches the whole thing with poise. “I can handle this,” he says, strapping the simulator on like it’s a designer belt. “How painful could it really—”

The second the simulator starts, his perfect posture falters, and he sits down immediately, eyes wide in disbelief. “Oh. My. Sevens. This is—”

By level three, he’s doubled over, one hand gripping his stomach and the other clutching his chest dramatically. “This is unbearable! This pain would ruin anyone’s complexion!”

His voice is full of horror as he waves a trembling hand. “Turn it off before it does permanent damage!”

Idia Shroud

Idia’s hair is already flickering with anxiety the moment you suggest he try the simulator. “Y-You’re joking, right? No way!” But you convince him, and he reluctantly straps it on “I’m going to die, I just know it.”

When you turn it on, his reaction is immediate. His hair flares bright neon pink, and he lets out the most dramatic yelp you’ve ever heard. “OH NO, THIS IS IT! THIS IS HOW I GO!” He’s rolling on the floor, clutching his stomach like he’s in the final boss battle of his life.

By level four, he’s practically pleading. “I surrender! I’m done! Game over! JUST TURN IT OFF!” His hair is flashing so brightly it could power a small city.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus approaches the simulator with a curious expression. “A device that mimics pain? Fascinating.” He straps it on with a regal air, as if this is just another strange mortal custom he’s willing to experience.

The moment it starts, though, he pauses. His eyes widen slightly, and he places a hand over his stomach. “This… is quite intense,” he admits, his voice calm but strained.

As the levels increase, his stoic expression falters, and he’s soon gripping the edge of the nearest surface. “Is this…what humans endure regularly?” he asks in disbelief. By the time it reaches full strength, he’s staring at you in awe. “You must be incredibly strong to endure this.”

The storm outside, coincidentally, seems to match his inner turmoil.

Rollo Flamme

Rollo looks at the period cramp simulator with his usual air of disdain. "I fail to see the point of this exercise," he says, folding his arms. But with a raised eyebrow from you, he sighs and reluctantly agrees. “Fine. If only to demonstrate that I can endure whatever nonsense you find amusing.”

He straps it on, looking every bit like he’s about to endure a great trial of fortitude. "Proceed," he says, as if commanding an army.

At level one, Rollo barely flinches. He keeps his usual stoic expression. "Is that all?" he asks, voice flat. But as you increase the intensity, his composure begins to crack. By level three, he’s shifting uncomfortably in his seat. His jaw tightens, but he's still maintaining his dignity—barely.

"Interesting... sensation," he mutters between clenched teeth, trying to keep his voice steady.

By level four, the calm façade is gone. Rollo’s knuckles are white from gripping the arms of the chair, and his expression is a mix of panic and fury. "This... device is an affront to decency!" he hisses, his face reddening. "Surely no one can focus through such—"

You take it up one more notch.

"TURN IT OFF THIS INSTANT!" Rollo practically yells, his voice cracking as he doubles over, utterly betrayed by his own pride. His normally regal posture is completely gone, replaced by a man clinging to survival.

When you finally switch off the simulator, he’s left panting and disheveled, glaring at you like you’ve committed a personal offense. "That... was barbaric," he wheezes, trying to regain his composure. “I’ll never question your complaints again. That was… inhumane.” He straightens his robes and avoids eye contact, the flush in his cheeks refusing to fade.

"Honestly," he mutters, still flustered, "what vile invention is this world coming to?"

Masterlist

[italiangirlcoresblog]

main masterlist \\ lando masterlist

-----------------••✩🍪☕️🩹✩••----------------

𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐛

✩ : your boyfriend wants to play strip poker on your flight back home: what could possibly go wrong?

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭. : lando norris

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : mature, humor

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 1,2k

✍︎ : the temptation took over

-------------------------❦︎-------------------------

“Strip poker?”

You were slouched on one of the luxurious leather seats of the private jet that was bringing you and Lando back to London, your legs lounged over his lap as he drew lazy circles on your skin with his thumb, when that, quote unquote, “brilliant” idea had popped into his head.

“Yep,” he replied casually, totally unfazed by the skeptical and almost suspicious tone in your voice, completely ignoring your arched brow, his hands already dealing the cards on the table between the two of you.

“You’re an idiot.”

“And you’re scared,” he teased, his voice dripping with amusement as he flashed you a grin.

You scoffed. “Yeah, right.”

“Then a little playing won’t be a problem for you, will it?” Maybe it was the challenging glint in his eyes, or maybe you just wanted to wipe that mocking smirk right off his face, but you eventually gave in with a resigned sigh, though the look you gave him spoke loudly.

“You’re going down, Norris.”

“Oh, I hope so,” he winked, after giving you a not-so-subtle once‐over, biting down on his lower lip in an effort to suppress a smug smirk. The match hadn’t even started yet, and he’d already turned you into a blushing mess.

The first few hands went by smoothly, both of you losing your socks and shoes almost immediately — Lando claiming it was all part of his “strategy”. But as the game continued, his confidence seemed to falter, the realization that maybe that wasn’t such a great idea crystal clear in his now very much distressed gaze.

“Not so cocky now, are we?” you teased him, the struggle on his face making it harder not to laugh.

“Big words for someone who's about to lose this hand,” he shot back, laying down his cards with an annoyingly wide grin tugging at his lips. “Straight flush.”

“Damn it,” you muttered, shrugging off your hoodie in one swift motion and tossing it in his face, his chuckle muffled under the soft fabric. But when he saw what you were actually wearing underneath, his laugh quickly died down, his breath hitching.

“No shirt?” His voice was low, hoarse even, almost as if he’d been talking too much — except he hadn’t. He must had noticed too, because he cleared his throat as he shifted in his place, his gaze lingering a moment too long on the lace bra that barely covered your chest.

“It’s comfier this way,” you answered with a casual shrug, trying to play it cool despite the way your skin tingled under his attention.

“Uh-huh.” The corner of his mouth twitched into a smirk, making it clear that he’d seen your reaction, but surprisingly enough he didn’t say anything, focusing back on the game as if nothing had happened. However, his luck didn’t last long, as you showed a winning hand, mocking the smug expression he’d now lost.

“Off with the shirt, Norris,” you nodded toward his white button-up, arms crossed as you — impatiently — waited for him to remove it. He took his sweet time, his eyes never leaving yours as he loosened the buttons one after the other, the anticipation almost painful.

“Happy now?” he asked as he finally discarded the shirt, his mischievous tone immediately sending alarm bells ringing in your head — which, needless to say, you shamelessly ignored.

“Thrilled,” you replied with the straightest face you managed to pull, though you couldn’t help but let your gaze wander briefly over his toned body.

“Eyes up here,” he snapped his fingers at you before pointing them back to his face, an absolutely devilish grin plastered on it.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you rolled your eyes at him, but the faint blush that painted your cheeks gave you away.

The next few rounds were a blur. You couldn’t stop glancing at him, the way his chest caught the light that streamed through the jet windows, or how his arms flexed every time he leaned forward. And, apparently, the same went for Lando. Until…

“Full house.” You displayed your cards on the table for him to see, trying and miserably failing to bite back the triumphant smile that was slowly creeping on your face.

“This is rigged,” he declared, slumping in his seat as he slammed his own cards down in frustration.

“Or maybe you just suck,” you cooed sweetly, chin rested on your hands.

“Ha ha,” he deadpanned, leaning back in his chair — and then it happened. At first, you didn’t realize what he was doing, but when you saw his hands falling down to his lap and starting to unbuckle his pants you froze, your throat suddenly dry.

“Baby.” His voice was barely audible, the sound drowned out by the noise of your heart slamming against your ribcage.

“What?” you breathed out, so low that for a moment you thought he hadn’t caught it.

“You wanna help?” It wasn’t a question — not really: it was an invitation, one he knew you wouldn’t refuse. Slowly, you stood, rounding the table and stopping right in front of him. You felt his gaze burning holes into your skin as he followed your every move, before meeting yours with an intensity that stole your breath away.

His hands found your hips, guiding you down onto him until you were straddling his lap, your knees sinking in the plush seat as you placed your palms on his shoulders to steady yourself. Then, glances still intertwined, you lightly brushed your fingers along his bare chest and trailed them down his abs, his muscles tensing beneath your touch.

By the time your hands reached for his belt, Lando’s breathing had become erratic, the sight of him unraveling under your fingertips only spurring you on. Your hands moved deliberately slow as you worked on the buckle, a satisfied smirk playing on your lips as you savored the moment — your personal revenge for the show he’d put on not long before.

When you “casually” grazed the skin just above the waistband of his pants he inhaled sharply, his hands sliding down to your thighs to give them a warning squeeze. “Careful,” he hissed, his body jerking away from yours at the sudden contact.

“I’m just helping you out. That’s what you wanted, right?” you asked, feigning innocence, though the heat in your touch told a very different story.

The metal clicked as you finally loosened his belt, its cool leather smooth against your palms, and before Lando even had the chance to say anything, you undid the button of his pants with a flick of your fingers, tugging the zipper down right after. That was it for him.

His hands ran up to your sides, anchoring you to his lap as his mouth flew to yours, the kiss urgent as he tasted your lips like a starved man, exploring every inch of them with his tongue. There was no trace left of the subtle teasing that had been lingering in the air until then, replaced by a raw need that left you wanting more after you pulled away, both breathless and flushed.

“Next time,” you panted as Lando immediately started working his way down your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses along your throat, “we’re playing Monopoly.”

-----------------••✩🍪☕️🩹✩••----------------

©italiangirlcoresblog // do not copy, rewrite, or translate any of my work on any platforms

[mugglebornmarvelite]

A Snowstorm, a Grump, and a Game

Paring: Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Avenger! Fem! Reader (Grumpy x Sunshine)

Summary: The snowstorm traps everyone inside the compound, but you're determined to make the best of it. The rest of the team is scattered around, playing games or lounging, but you’re already on a mission: pestering Bucky into joining you for board games.

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: Fluff, like two swear words, teasing, playful threats

Author’s Note: Thank you to my mom for unintentionally giving me this idea <3

Navigation

The compound was a war zone of boredom. The snowstorm raging outside had the Avengers grounded for what felt like forever, and everyone was handling it differently. Tony was shouting at Clint for cheating in Monopoly, and Natasha was kicking Steve's ass at poker. You were up to something different. You’d made it your personal mission to annoy Bucky Barnes until he played a game with you. 

You hummed, skipping into the Common Room, with a miechvious smile on our face. You spotted him on the couch, with a book in hand, looking like every bit of a grump. Your favorite grump. 

His hair was messy, dark strands a little messed up from him running his fingers through it, and his scowl was as deep as ever. Perfect. 

“Mr. Barnes,” you called, plopping onto the couch beside him. “You’re such a buzzkill. It’s not even fun teasing you anymore. I may just give it up entirely.”

“Good,” he said without looking up, his voice as flat as he was pretending to read, his attention now on you. “Now fuck off.”

You gasped, clutching your chest. “You wound me, Bucky. Right in the soul. How am I supposed to enjoy board games without my partner in crime?”

His eyes flicked up from the book, unimpressed. “Sounds like a you problem, baby.”

Determined, you slid closer, reaching for the dice you’d conveniently left on the table next to him, knowing it would bait him hook, line and sinker. “I don’t need your attitude, I just need these-”

Before you could grab them, he moved quicker. 

In one swift motion, he pulled you onto his lap, making you yelp in surprise. His vibranium arm was around your waist, pinning you down like you weighed nothing. 

“Stop being a fucking menace,” he muttered, his voice low and gravelly in your ear. “You send my blood pressure up.”

You wiggled, grinning despite yourself. “Oh no, what will I do now? Big, scary Bucky Barnes has me trapped,” you teased, your voice dripping with mock distress. “I’m terrified.”

His chest rumbled with laughter, a rare sound that made you feel like you’d won something. “You should be,” he said, though his grip on you was more protective than punishing. 

His hands were strong, but he held you like you were breakable, and something about that made your cheeks heat. That heat also pooling in your stomach.

“I am not even scared, not even a little bit,” you pointed out, squirming just to annoy him more. “Honestly, this is kind of disappointing. I expected more from you, old man.”

He huffed, setting his book down without loosening his hold on you. “You’re impossible, дорогой.” Sweetheart.

“And you secretly love it,” you shot back, leaning your head against his shoulder with a satisfied smile.

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, his thumb absentmindedly brushing against your side. You melted like butter on warm toast.

When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, almost fond. “Yeah, well, don’t push your luck, doll.”

You sighed contently.

“Will you play a game with me later?” you asked, batting your lashes at him like a total brat. 

“We’ll see, brat,” he said gruffly, looking at the ceiling, avoiding your doe eyes. 

“Please?”  

“Maybe.”  

“Please!”  

“Don’t whine.” He tugged on a strand of your hair.

You were undeterred, already used to how he pretended to be mad at you but always handled you gently. Your smile grew even wider as you started chanting, “Please, please, please—”  

“If you don’t shut up-” he growled, but you cut him off by leaning in and planting a kiss on the tip of his nose.  

The room seemed to freeze. His blue eyes widened slightly, and his gruff demeanor faltered for a split second before he exhaled sharply, huffing like a frustrated old man. He was your old man.

“You’re lucky I don’t throw you in a snowstorm for that,” he muttered, but his hand on your waist betrayed him, his thumb brushing soft reassuring circles against your side.  

You tilted your head, trying to hold back a laugh as you watched his icy exterior crack just a little more. “So you’ll play a game with me? Pretty please?”  

He sighed like it physically hurt him to give in, but he always did. 

“Fine.” Bucky said so softly you almost didn’t hear him.

You grinned liked the cat the ate the canary. 

“One game. If it’ll get you to shut the hell up.” His large hand was warm on your back.

“Two games.” You pushed, with a hopeful smile and poppy dog eyes.

“Don’t push it, sweet girl,” he warned, though his tone lacked any real bite.  

You grinned triumphantly, burying your face in the crook of his neck as you made yourself comfortable. “We both know you’ll cave,” you teased, your voice full of smug satisfaction. “You always do.” 

“Yeah?” he asked, his hand tightening slightly on your waist. His tone was low, threatening in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. “Are you so sure, дорогой?”

“Keep it up, and the only game we’re playing is who can survive the longest in the damn snowstorm. Spoiler alert, it’s not gonna be you.”  

You laughed, the sound soft and bright, and you felt his chest rumble faintly with a chuckle of his own.  

“Whatever you say, Bucky. Just don’t forget, I always win.”  

He leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he replied, “The only thing you’re winning is a one-way ticket to getting thrown off this couch, your cute little ass hitting the ground.”  

And yet, neither of you made any move to separate, content to sit there tangled up in each other as the snowstorm raged on outside.

You soon fell asleep on his lap and Bucky made no move to wake you.

In fact, when Peter came to poke you, Bucky hissed at him, and Peter scampered off.

Bucky pulled a blanket over you, holding you snuggly against him, cradling the back of your head with one hand and rubbing circles on your lower back with the other.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed! Happy Holidays!

If you'd like to be added to my taglist

Much love x

- Maeve

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

punishment on the poker table

a/n: i've had this fantasy floating around in my brain ever since i came up with this au. damn it feels good to finally have it written out all sluttily as it deserves to be

summary: “well, well, well… what do we have here…” he slowly swept his broad thumb across your tender flesh as he gazed down at the discovery, “just a friend, huh? However, did you manage to lose your panties hanging out with your friend? Come on, I think we’d all love to know.” 

warnings: camgirl!reader x various, pornstar!lee bodecker, pornstar!ari levinson, pornstar!lloyd hansen, pornstar!nick fowler, smut, porn au, college au, reader’s porn name is cherry blossom (UrLittleCherry), filming pornography, reader has been in the porn industry for a while now (maybe a few months?), voyeurism, exhibitionism, gangbang, daddy kink (probably the only scenario where you can catch me playing around with this kink, because in most circumstances it's sadly not my cup of tea), classic porn step fantasy, impact play, pussy inspection, hair pulling, masturbation, fingering, pussyjob, oral, handjob, dirty talk, size kink, manhandling, multiple orgasms, squirting, penetrative sex, anal, unprotected sex

word count: 2850

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

sugar & spice au masterlist | 101, intro to the au

masterlist | join my taglist 

“Hey beautiful,” you heard over your shoulder as you sat in the kitchen of the rented house you found yourself in, putting the last finishing touches on your makeup for today’s shoot. 

Twisting around, you swiftly leapt from your seat as you recognised the figure leaning against the doorframe “Ari!” you threw your arms around his bulky form, “hi! How are you?”

“Can’t complain,” his broad palm ran down your spine before you retracted from the embrace, “how about you? I’ve heard you’ve been quite busy lately.”

“Yeah, I have,” a short giggle bubbled out of you, “but it’s been so much fun, though I’m still figuring out the balancing act between this, camming and school.” 

As his feet then began to shuffle, your own shifted as well and carried you back out into the other room where crew members slipped around and prepped the space. With half of their attention directed at their work, their heads still twisted as they zigzagged between the rest of the stars for today’s fantasy, as the guys, lounging on the set, dragged their old friends into whatever they were chatting about. 

“Oh, I didn’t know you’d all arrived,” each of their head twisted at the sound of your voice, “I thought Ari was the only one apart from me.”

“Sorry to disappoint, sweetheart,” Nick caught your palm as you neared the poker table they surrounded and pressed his lips to the back of it. 

“Good to see you again, Nicky,” you chuckled as the warmth of his peck lingered on your skin. 

“Oh, you guys have worked together before?” Ari sank down into the last of the chairs around the games table.

“Uhm, well, we have,” you gestured to the brunette who’d just kissed your hand, “a fun little POV shoot a month ago,” your gaze then drifted to Ari, “and we’ve of course worked together, I don’t think I’ll have to remind you of that,” you smiled before shifting your vision to the last two, “but, this is my first time with each of them,” you pointed between the two moustachioed men before grasping first the hand of the one to the left, “Lloyd,” a flutter flicked through your lower abdomen as you met the pornstar’s dazzling gaze, “hi.”

“Don’t get starstruck on me now,” he winked, “if you’re gonna cream your panties, wait till the camera’s rolling.” 

Puffing out an airy laugh at his joke, “no promises,” you then shifted to catch the other man’s palm, “and Lee,” he slowly rose from his seat as he shook your hand, “or should I say daddy,” a small chuckle rumble in his chest as you warmed up to the title he’d get to adorn in today’s storyline, “wonderful to finally meet you.”

“You too,” he smiled, then added before he let go of your fingers, “I’ve been looking forward to finally working with you.”

“Really?” an amazed grin lit up your face as you blinked back at the seasoned professional. 

“Oh yeah, just ask my agent. I’ve been quite literally begging for this to happen.”

“Have you ever shot a gangbang before?” Lloyd then asked. 

“Uhm, no,” you shook your head, “first gangbang–, or well, on screen that is. Although I haven’t ever been with four guys at once before, so that’s new,” your glance flickered over each of their faces, “but I’m excited! I’m prepped and ready, this is gonna be fun.” 

But before your face could heat up any further, the doors to the room burst open and in strolled, not only the head of the studio, Romanoff Productions, but also the visionary who had signed on to direct the shoot herself. 

“Oh, great! You’re all here,” Natasha came to a stop right before you all, “then it won’t be long now,” she stated before landing her gaze on you, “Cherry, should we take a look at what you’re gonna wear?”

“Yeah,” you followed along as she then slipped back into her swift stride, “I brought a few options, some different plaid skirts, all depending on what colour you had in mind.”

The camera low in Natasha’s grasp shadowed your ass, shyly peeking out from under your short blue plaid skirt with every quiet step, as you sneaked down the hallway from the front door and into the dimly lit living room. 

“Breaking curfew…” a deep voice then rumbled somewhere in the darkness. 

Spinning around, you spotted the group of men surrounding the round table in the corner, “Lee! Oh my god,” faking a fright, you clasped a palm over your exposed chest, as your tight shirt wasn’t just sparsely buttoned, but also gathered up and tied around your waist. 

“Lee?” Lloyd murmured and shifted the cards in his grasp, “is that what you call your stepfather?” 

Sinking your teeth down into your bottom lip, you quietly uttered, “…daddy...”

“Good girl,” Lee nodded, though didn’t glance over his shoulder at you as he then dropped his cards to the table and sighed, “now, are you gonna tell me why you were out so late or should I just punish you without knowing the full reason? I’m fine either way,” his fingers gently played with a stack of poker chips beside him. 

“Oh, I don’t know if that is necessary,” you swiftly shook your head and attempted to shuffle closer towards the staircase, “I'm only 45 minutes late–”

“Come here,” his command was low and clear as his glare finally locked upon your figure in the dark. 

“What?” your fingers fiddled lightly with the hem of your skirt, fluttering just above where a pair of long socks stretched up to. 

“Cherry, you can come here right now, or you can get out of my house.”

Though it was all just pretend, his low tone still sent a shiver down your spine, “you’re gonna kick me out? Just for staying out a little bit too late?”

“But that’s not all you were doing, was it?” he tilted his head before pushing his chair back a few inches from the poker table, “come on,” his palm came down to clap his thigh, “don’t act like this is the first time your bratty ass has needed to be taken over my knee.”

Glancing around to the others, “shouldn’t we go up to my room? You have company,” you added in a whisper. 

“Oh, they don’t mind,” he stated, keeping his gaze locked upon you as he raised his voice, “do you boys?”

“Not in the slightest,” Nick smirked and leaned back in his seat, eyeing you just as brashly as the rest of them did. 

Slowly, you closed the distance to stand beside Lee’s seated form, though before even offering you another glance, the older man seized your frame and tilted you over his lap. 

With your bottom barely covered in your tiny schoolgirl skirt, a yelp slipped up from your lungs as Lee sent his hand down to land, not a light beginning tap across it, but a harsh smack that had you jumping in his lap. 

“So, are you gonna come clean and tell us all what you have been up to, young lady?” he asked after you’d lost count of his generous spanks. 

“I-I was just hanging out with a friend from school,” you squeaked and dug your fingers into his thigh. 

Though as his palm came down upon your ass once again, the smack caused your flimsy skirt to flip up, just enough for him to catch sight of the secret it had been hiding. 

“Well, well, well… what do we have here…” he slowly swept his broad thumb across your tender flesh as he gazed down at the discovery, “just a friend, huh? However, did you manage to lose your panties hanging out with your friend? Come on, I think we’d all love to know.” 

But you kept your mouth shut as goosebumps pricked and covered your skin.

“Fine,” the word that left his lips was accompanied by a swift spank that soared across your bare bottom, “you don’t wanna talk? I’ll just have a look myself then,” he murmured before tilting closer, ever so slightly, and began to spread you apart. 

“What are you–,” you peeked back at him over your shoulder, though your objection melted from your lips as his touch then swept through your glistening folds, “oh, f-fuck…”

“Doesn’t seem to me like you were just hanging out with a friend…” sticky strings of want created a web as Lee probed your puffy petals apart, letting him inspect your little hole, “…you know, I don’t ask much of you, but I do require you to obey my rules, and this?” his touch ghosted against your clit, making you swallow a moan, “this breaks nearly all of them.”

“I'm sorry, I just–”

“Sorry is not gonna cut it anymore! You’re gonna have to learn that there are consequences to your actions,” he growled before landing a swift slap against your glistening pussy, causing you to let out another cry. 

As you tried to wiggle off his lap, the hand he’d had splayed across your lower back soared up to tangle itself in the hair at the base of your neck to keep you in place as he let his fingers sweep through your folds. 

“You just need a bit tough love to learn the rules, that’s all…” he uttered over the sinful symphony of his persistent touch against your embarrassingly wet cunt. 

“You’re a fucking pervert,” you grumbled through a heavy pant. 

“You can call me whatever you want, I don’t fucking care,” his grip in your hair then tightened as he yanked you closer, your back having to arch to reach the angle he searched for, “you can either get what you deserve, or I can throw you out on your ass,” his breath fanned across your hot cheek as his lips nearly grazed it with every seething word he uttered, “it’s your choice.” 

“…fine,” you finally replied through your gritted teeth before his grasp let go of your hair and sent you back down to stare at the floor.  

Slowly, as Lee slipped a finger inside of you and gradually began to stretch you out, your eyes drifted shut and didn’t flutter back open till another one of his digits had eased inside of you and tickled out a quiet whimper, deep from within your soul. However, as you blinked your eyes back open, they fluttered up to discover the hard lengths that the others around the poker table had freed from their pants. 

“Oh my god!” your eyes widened as you watched their fists slowly jerk up and down, leisurely stroking themselves as they stared at you, “Lee! Your friends, they’re–”

“Shh,” he kept up his touch as you began to quiver, “don’t mind them.” 

By the time you were fighting the unbearable urge to cum, your body was flailing so fiercely that Lee had to clasp a forearm down around your waist in order to keep you over his lap. In the intoxicating fog you found yourself submerged in, someone caught your hand, and it wasn’t till moments later that it truly sank through your haze and you squinted over to discover Lloyd’s grasp engulfing your own, as he guided your touch over himself, his girth throbbing beneath your fingers. The vision alone was enough for you to throw in the towel and lose the battle to the high that then promptly washed over you. 

Before your daze had a chance to fade, your frame was flipped back upright to briefly sit in Lee’s lap, and your reality was still so fuzzy that it took a moment for you to register when some of the others reached out to rip your shirt off, though the blue plaid that clung around your hips as well as the high socks, those were allowed to stay perfectly in place. 

“You wanna fucking learn what happens to little sluts, huh?” Lee clutched your jaw in his grasp and growled against your cheek, “because that’s how you’re acting, so you might as well learn what it’s like to be treated as one.” 

Flinging you around, he manhandled you onto the table, the others swiftly swiping away the cards and chip stacks out of the way before you landed in the middle.  

“Since you’ve got no problem spreading your legs for your little friends, then mine shouldn’t be an issue either, should it now?” 

“I–,” you panted, blinking up at Lee as he nudged your trembling thighs apart, “fuck…”

“What was that?” he smacked your sensitive cunt to conjure a clearer answer. 

“Ah!” you let out a shriek, “no, daddy! Fine! Let them use me, what do I care!”

“Oh, you’ll care, babydoll…” Lloyd swiftly snatched up your right hand and brought it back to his cock, “must warn you, we aren’t as gentle as those little boys you hang out with.”

“But that’s alright, isn’t it?” Nick smirked as he seized your other hand and yanked it towards his own dick, “your cute little pussy deserves the punishment.”

Glancing between them all, you uttered, “you’re all sick.”

“Says the girl who just came,” Lloyd pointed out through a short chuckle. 

“I did nothing wrong!” you continued, raising your voice, “everyone my age fools around! It’s not like I came home knocked up or anything–”

“Somebody shut her up,” Lee suddenly exhaled before Ari appeared above your head and swiftly stuffed his fat girth into your mouth, snuffing out the remainder of your sentence as it vibrated against his cock. 

Your legs were then folded up till both Lloyd and Nick at your sides caught them and held your limbs in place, keeping you open for Lee as he fiddled with his fly. 

Staring down at your pussy, Lee finally freed his cock and uttered, “now…” offering himself a gentle stroke as he took a step closer to you, “what are we gonna do to you…” he then tapped the heavy weight of his dick against your petals, making you squirm as sticky strings of desperation clung to his length, “maybe a little something here? Is that what you need in order to finally respect my rules?” he briefly flicked the bulbous head through your folds before his lips tilted into a sly smirk, “nah, I don’t think so… you need to be filled up somewhere that hasn’t already fucked tonight.” 

And then, with the slickness now glistening up his cock, as well as the juices that had already leaked and dripped down, Lee began to split open your ass. 

A cry promptly escaped you at the mind-numbing stretch, though as the sound vibrated against Ari’s girth, he only seized the opportunity and slid down even further till the staggering imprint of his size was bulging in your throat and his heavy sack was nuzzled up against your face.

“That’s it…” Lee groaned as he slowly filled you up, “that’s what you needed, isn’t it, kiddo?”

Though you had no clue who, a few of the men began to play with your tits, offering them playful smacks to make them jiggle hypnotically or even tug and pull on your pebbly nipples. 

“Oh, would you look at that fucking cunt?” you heard Lloyd grunt as he watched closely at how your empty pussy was blowing euphoric bubbles, before you felt him reach down to grab your desperate core, pinching the puff a moment as they all marvelled in unison. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she’s enjoying her little lesson,” Ari chuckled as you choked on his cock. 

“How could she not?” Nick reached down and slipped a finger inside your leaky hole, “you’re just a little whore for your stepdad and his friends, aren’t you?”

Sliding a digit in as well beside the other pornstar’s, Lloyd then murmured, “maybe instead of playing poker when we come over, we could all just play with you.”

Letting his cock slip out of your mouth, Ari craned down to touch you as well and began to bully your puffy clit, “yeah, you’d be a perfect little toy, wouldn’t you? Your daddy will teach you right how to treat us all.”

As Lee’s heavy sack smacked against your slick skin at his next deep thrust, you once again unravelled before them all, though this time in a rippling display that had your poor pussy gushing around the men’s fingers.

“Oh! That’s a good fucking girl!” Lee pulled his cock out of your ass before he joined in on the other’s torture, though didn’t stop till you were shaking violently beneath them and they couldn’t tickle forth anymore squirt from your overstimulated cunt, “I honestly didn’t think you had it in you, but just look,” he caught your eye, “you’re learning already.” 

A smile found his features before he then, without warning, stuffed his girth into your pussy, beside the fingers that no one, not even himself, slipped out, but instead utilised the leverage to pry your clambering and sensitive pussy open for Lee’s fat girth. 

© 2025 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[ivoryratdoggerythethird]

ok but bsd chapter 114 revealing the flipside of the soukoku dynamic in all its glory like *chef's kiss*

turns out that when the mission's (almost) done and you put skk in a room with no witnesses they just become each other

dazai is the one unable to stay still, agitated and wearing his emotions openly and very much stressing about a plan he can't understand (how the tables do turn), literally YELLING and RUNNING of his own violation and doing actual labor of pulling out "fyodor" from beneath a whole ass helicopter while injured without asking for help because the brawns of the team is actually secretly a black cat character

insane how chuuya makes dazai look like the overactive dog archetype here like Mister Gravity Control and I Crack Walls & Chains With One Kick is just sitting full-on cheek on fist poker face watching his beanpole of a partner struggle. his health bar is like full too besides the brief drowning stint meanwhile he himself shot dazai like three times after he crawled out of a crashed elevator

(chuuya is actually such a little shit it's amazing like it was kinda shown in him just letting kunikida blow himself up without even trying to take on tecchou or as if he couldn't just fly the helicopter away with his ability? the pm's trump card, stronger half of soukoku? mans said "boss told me come get you" and by god that is the only job he will do, overtime means nothing to him because he can't read, what a king)

chuuya is literally only willing to do the BARE minimum it's hilarious like he's done his part, he's given the Oscar-winning vampire performance of a lifetime, now he's pulling a dazai-at-the-ADA and simply refusing to work like. chilling in the back while dazai monologues and fyodor dies. bouncing sigma like a tennis ball. chilling a corner while dazai brainstorms. leisurely following dazai's running. chilling in the back while dazai huffs and puffs to pull out the body.

the biggest bsd plot twist is that soukoku on and off the battle field just switch roles for who's lounging like a bored princess while the other toils and actually does the work. if they both ever actually work on something at the same time yokohama would probably explode.

[lumiambrose]

✰ the winning hand

kinktober 24 - day twelve

featuring: aventurine x f!reader

summary: you were taken by surprise when the aventurine of the ten stonehearts requests a private match from you. although, a gamble with him requires high stakes, and even higher rewards.

tags: smut, gambling, praise, degredation (if you reaaally squint), p in v, cunnilingus, use of sex toys, public sex, petnames (sweet girl, pretty, doll), not proofread (i drank too much last night mb fam)

wc: 2.2k

“so the winner of this next round takes all?” you clarify, unsure if the man in front of you has gone insane.

“spot on, pretty. if you win, i’ll be your loyal servant for the rest of the night. although if i win… you’ll be mine.” yeah. he’s lost it.

you’re currently in a private sector for the eclipse’s executives. it’s slightly elevated from the rest of the floor, almost like a private balcony with a gorgeous view of the grand casino. how you ended up here? you don’t even know. you were sipping on a sweet cocktail when aventurine, one of the ten stonehearts, requested a game from you. his assistant didn’t give you time to react as he led you away from the central casino and toward a far more private, lavish, hall.

ever the gentleman he is, aventurine picked you up there and stole you away to the balcony you now find yourself at. seeing as it was too late to decline, you figured you should get the most out of this experience as he explained the rules to you.

a standard game of poker shouldn’t be too hard, right? is what you tell yourself, despite struggling immensely against the man in front of you. you’ve only won… twice? out of the many rounds you’ve played and you’re getting worried, you can’t keep losing like this. almost on cue, aventurine suggests one final round to decide the winner, which is how you’ve ended up in your current predicament.

you eye the cards in your hand, desperately trying to keep your expression neutral. aventurine lounges across from you, one arm draped over the back of the sofa, his other hand casually toying with his chips. he’s confident. too confident.

“ready, pretty?” he’s teasing you at this point. the dealer, not making a sound, reshuffles the cards before sliding them your way. you glance at your hand and immediately regret your decision, but you don’t lose hope just yet.

the dealer reveals the first three cards on the table: jack of diamonds, queen of clubs, seven of spades. your stomach drops. aventurine smirks. it’s over.

with a hand like this, you shouldn’t even bet, but you go all in anyway, hoping the bluff works. of course, it doesn’t. he meets your bet, then raises.

the final card flips. king of hearts.

aventurine reveals his hand—ace and ten.

a straight.

you blink, stunned. aventurine leans forward, that damn smirk widening, “looks like you’re mine now.”

this was it, your fate had been sealed. only god knows what this man has planned for you. you let out a long sigh, accepting your defeat before locking eyes with him, waiting for his orders.

with a quick snap of his fingers, the dealer leaves the room, disappearing through the door without a word. “stand up,” you oblige, adjusting your short dress and hair as you rise from your chair, facing him. he does a one-over on your body, taking in every inch and curve, staring like a starved man.

the room suddenly feels much smaller as you’re left in aventurine’s company. he’s still lounging on the sofa before you, but this time, a more terrifying aura radiates from him. 

his next command is simple. with a predatory smile and commanding tone, he orders, “your panties, take them off.”

for a second, you thought you didn’t hear him right. you hesitate for a moment, but the look in his eyes leaves no room for argument. slowly, you reach through your skirt, your hands trembling slightly as you hook your thumbs into the waistband of your panties and push them down.

he holds out his hands, glancing at the panties before his gaze shifts back to you. you hand them to him as a blush creeps up your cheeks. his hand grazes yours as he takes them from you, stuffing them into his pocket with a victorious smile playing on his lips.

“oh, one more thing,” he reaches over to a small box resting on the table, opening it and taking out a small vibrator. “you’re a smart girl so i’m sure you understand what i’m getting at. if you manage a few games without cumming, i might even reward you,” he coos. “you like the sound of that, doll?”

even if you wanted to refuse, you know you couldn’t. begrudgingly, you put the vibrator in your, now naked, pussy, letting out a soft sigh as it enters you. as much as you should be disgusted right now, you’re filled with nothing but adrenaline facing the man in front of you. the fear that you once had now slowly turning into excitement.

he sets up the next round of poker, shuffling a new deck of cards and sliding some your way. “no need to bet with chips anymore, if you manage to win as much as one game, i’ll make sure you’re cumming on me tonight.” his voice suddenly shifts into a darker tone “although, if you fail… we’ll keep up this little game of ours until you're begging on your knees for me.”

the hums of the vibrator fill the room as he turns it on from the small remote in his hand. any fear you should’ve felt from his threat going straight to your core, letting out a small moan at the danger.

the next few hours we’re nothing but agonising pain. you played his cruel game, as he abused the power he had over you, making you crumble for him. you were close? too damn bad, he turned the vibrator off, leaving you whimpering in agony. you tried bluffing? he saw right through it and set the vibrator to pulse inside of you, only switching it back to normal once you confessed your lie. sometimes you’d even be so distracted by the sweet pleasure between your thighs that your hand would accidentally slip, giving aventurine a complete view of your cards. but lady luck was on your side today as somehow, somehow, you beat him. maybe he let you and you didn’t notice as you were too distracted by the vibrating pleasure or perhaps you just got lucky. either way, you celebrated your victory, excited for what came ahead.

“congratulations, sweetheart,” he leaves the sofa for the first time tonight, slowly approaching you. “i’m a man of my word,” he kneels in front of you, pushing your legs apart. “i won’t stop until you’re cumming all over my tongue.”

without any further warning, he removes the vibrator, leaving you empty, only to replace it with his tongue.

he eats you out like it’s his last day alive. sucking, biting and slurping on your pussy. “so good,” he muffles, “you taste so fucking good.”

he continues to lap your folds, stuffing your cunt with his tongue and sometimes nibbling on your clit. he’s so shameless too, not attempting to hide any noises he makes while drinking you up. the longer he eats you out, the more dissolved his words get. filthy encouragements and teasing praises slowly turning into incoherent babbles, growling against your cunt. each vibration going straight toward your impending orgasm.

“you close, pretty? can feel you shaking around my tongue,” he says with one last lick on your folds before you come undone all over his face. your orgasm hits you like a wave, your juices crashing down on aventurine’s mouth.

he pulls back, slowly rising from his knees. “fuck– you taste divine,” he licks any excess juices from his face, “could eat this pretty pussy every day.” he grabs your hand, pulling you up from your chair and bringing you to the sofa he was once lounging on, “but that wouldn’t be any fun now, would it?” he bends you over with your back to the casino table, giving you a perfect view of the central casino.

“try not to attract too much attention, sweet girl.” with that, he hikes up your tiny dress and enters you in one slow, painful thrust. you moan at the sensation, definitely attracting a few curious eyes from below, but you’re in to deep to care anymore. he lets out a sigh of relief as he bottoms out, feeling your tight cunt already squeezing him.

“hah– so tight f’me,” he started to rock into you at a slow pace, taking his sweet time destroying you. as much as he desperately wanted to give into his primal urges, rutting into like there’s no tomorrow, he wanted to keep his promise. he wanted you to completely come apart on his dick, turning you into his little fucked-out doll. his one hand rest on your hip, keeping him steady as he moves inside you while the other snakes its way down to your clit, teasing your overstimulated bud.

the pleasure is overwhelming, leading you closer to your orgasm by the second, moaning out praises for the blonde behind you. “aah~ so good– i’m so close!” you can barely get the words out, but once you do, he can’t hold back anymore. “gonna make a mess on my dick, pretty?” he speeds up, thrusting at a faster pace, fingers working harder too.

“you close, doll?” he vibrates against your ear, “that’s my good girl… go on, cum on my dick, make a mess for me.” 

that was all it took to push you over the edge, you clenched him tightly as your second orgasm hit you. moaning out his name as you gripped the balcony railing, letting yourself come undone for him. it didn’t take him long until he was also reaching his high, swiftly pulling out and releasing his cum all over your ass and back, staining your dress.

after he releases his grasp on you, you collapse on the sofa, breathless and still sensitive from the little game you both played. he takes his place next to you, moving your legs to rest on his lap. “looks like your dress is stained,” he traces a line down your leg. “give me your number. i’ll arrange a replacement.”

after exchanging numbers, you clean yourself up as much as possible before heading to the exit.

“oh, and sweetheart,” he calls out to you before you can leave. “call me when you want your rematch.”

taglist: @ryescapades @iamjellyfish @143-ilyuu @maruflix @pixelcafe-network

©lumis kinktober 24' ─ do not translate, repost, copy any of my works

[00valentina-writes00]

Dating Sevika headcanons (sfw sorry gang)

————————————————————————

•You once tried to steal her cigar as a joke. Big mistake. Sevika caught you mid-act, lifted you with one arm, and said, “Cute. Don’t do it again.” You still did it again.

•Sevika’s idea of cooking is tossing something in a pan and hoping for the best. She’ll scoff at recipes and mutter, “I don’t need instructions.” Spoiler: she absolutely needs instructions. Burnt toast has become a running joke in your relationship.

•Every time she gets into a bar fight, you’re in the background yelling, “Not the face! I love her face!” She pretends not to hear you while decking someone twice her size.

•She once used her metal arm to open a stubborn jar of pickles. Now she’s your go-to for all tough jar lids. She grumbles, but you caught her smiling the third time.

•Sevika hates when you try to join her poker games. You can’t keep a straight face, and the other players eat you alive. She’s banned you from sitting at her table, but you keep sneaking in to “help her win.”

•If someone so much as glances at you wrong, she’ll glare at them until they shrink back into their seat. Once, a drunk guy tried to flirt with you at The Last Drop. Sevika didn’t even stand up; she just cracked her knuckles, and he bolted.

•Sevika doesn’t do romantic pillow talk. Instead, she’ll grumble about how “these damn chem-barons can’t organize for shit,” then roll over and fall asleep. You’ve learned to just nod along and kiss her forehead.

•You tried to kiss her while she had a cigar in her mouth. She just deadpanned, “You wanna taste smoke that bad?” and blew a puff right at you.

•She’ll act annoyed when you dote on her—calling her “big, scary Sevika” or pinching her cheeks—but secretly, she lives for your attention. She once sulked for hours when you forgot to kiss her goodbye.

•She rarely gets drunk, but when she does, she becomes weirdly sentimental. She’ll hold your face in her hands, stare at you with bleary eyes, and slur, “You’re too good for me. Don’t tell anyone I said that.”

•On her rare days off, Sevika becomes the ultimate couch potato. You’ll find her sprawled out, watching trashy reality shows with the volume way too high. She’ll deny it later, but you’ve caught her rooting for her favorite contestant.

•She’ll never admit she’s wrong in an argument. But later, she’ll shove your favorite snack into your hands as a peace offering. That’s as close to an apology as you’re getting.

•Sevika loves making you laugh, though she won’t admit it. She’ll mutter something sarcastic under her breath just to hear you giggle, then pretend she didn’t care.

•Once, you heard a noise outside at night. Sevika grabbed a crowbar, stormed outside, and returned five minutes later saying, “It was just a cat. Go back to bed.” You’re 90% sure she scared that cat into never coming back.

•Every now and then, Sevika will surprise you with something sweet—a trinket from the market, a rare flower she found, or even just a quiet moment where she pulls you into her lap and murmurs, “I missed you.” She’ll act like it’s no big deal, but you know better.

•If someone so much as looks at you wrong, Sevika is ready to throw hands. She’ll casually step in front of you, her massive frame blocking the offender, and ask with a chillingly calm voice, “You got something to say?” Spoiler: they don’t.

•Sevika doesn’t do flowers or chocolates, but she’ll slide a bag of your favorite snacks across the table with a gruff, “Saw these on my way back.” Or she’ll casually fix something broken around your place, claiming it’s no big deal.

•Sevika loves having you sit on her lap. Whether you’re watching a game at The Last Drop, lounging at home, or just chatting, her favorite place for you is right on her thighs. She’ll rest her chin on your shoulder and mutter how lucky she is to have you.

•Sevika loves making sure everyone knows you’re hers. A possessive hand on your waist, a kiss in a crowded room, or a quiet, low-toned threat to anyone who tries to flirt with you—she’s got it all covered.

•While she’s the definition of tough to everyone else, Sevika melts for you. She’ll roll her eyes when you call her “soft,” but she secretly loves it when you snuggle up to her or kiss her scarred cheek.

•If you catch her doing something sweet—like tucking a blanket around you or cooking breakfast—she’ll grumble, “Don’t get used to it,” while secretly hoping you do.

•Sevika has a habit of holding her cigar out to you, offering you a puff with a teasing smirk. She’ll chuckle if you cough but will be unreasonably proud if you manage to handle it.

•Sevika notices everything about you. If you’re feeling down, she’ll subtly try to cheer you up without making a big deal out of it. If you’re tired, she’ll drag you to bed (even if you protest).

•Sevika thinks it’s hilarious when you try to arm wrestle her. She’ll let you think you’re winning for a few seconds before slamming your hand down with a wicked grin.

•Sevika is not a morning person. If you try to wake her up early, she’ll groan, bury her face in the pillow, and mumble something about five more minutes—which turns into an hour.

•Sevika is strong, resilient, and seemingly unshakable—but when it comes to you, she’s a goner. You’re her world, her light, and the reason she fights so hard to survive.

[peachylynnie]

ace

word count: 1.7k

synopsis: in which sylus defies all logic and odds, just for you.

contains: part 2 of blackjack, sylus x fem!reader (non mc, first time meeting), slightly obsessive sylus, alcohol consumption, cursing, mentions of weapons and violence, and gambling (know the rules of blackjack).

a/n: in blackjack, you want to get as close as you can to 21 without going over. to bust means to go over 21. to stay means to stay with the cards you have. you can tap for more cards or wave to stay. a natural (best outcome) means you immediately get 21 with your initial cards. but, you don't have to get to 21 to win. so long as the dealer has a worse hand than you, you win. essentially, it's a game against the dealer, not the people you play with. reblogs & comments are appreciated.

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sylus has never lost in blackjack before.

he's mastered every gambling card game for the sake of business deals and corrupt clients. and yet, here you are, spitting at his mastery as you flip another twenty, forcing him to either stay at his nineteen or risk a bust. and sylus never stays or busts in blackjack.

while your hands question almost every statistic and probability out there, your expression is what truly does it for him. even though you've only been winning, you haven't shown a trace of happiness or any other emotion normally present at a poker table. there's nothing when your opponents raise their bets, nothing when you win their bets, and infuriatingly nothing when your silver-haired opponent leans on the table and gazes at you hungrily after you take his chips for the umpteenth time tonight.

chuckling to himself, sylus can't help but think, what's going on in that pretty little head of yours? what will it take for you to look at him with half the interest he's looking at you with right now?

"because the lounge closes in less than thirty minutes," you gesture to the clock, snapping the silver-haired man out of his thoughts. "this will be the final round."

you hand a deck of cards to sylus, signaling him to shuffle. he takes it from you, trying not to shudder when his finger grazes yours.

sherman and his lackey groan upon checking how many chips they have left. "and here i thought blackjack was the easiest game against the house," the former complains as he lights a cigar.

"perhaps," the latter starts carefully, "we can wager something different this round." he shares a knowing look with his boss before turning to sylus. "what do you think, mr. sylus?"

sylus sighs as he finishes shuffling the deck. that idiot messed up his shuffle. great, now he looks like an idiot to you. "what would you like to wager?" he huffs as he places the deck in front of you.

"the deal, sylus," sherman snaps. "if i win, we have a deal."

sylus laughs mirthlessly, shaking his head. seems like the imbecile finally decided to drop his friendly act. "and what will your little employee wager?" he asks with faux curiosity.

"that depends on the lady in front of us, mr. sylus," the man in question answers before licking his lips at you. "say, miss dealer. if i win, how about you accompany mr. sherman and me back to a hotel nearby? we promise you'll be thoroughly compensated."

the head of onychinus stands up swiftly, his hands curling into fists. he should have seen this coming. the knowing look sherman and his lackey shared earlier wasn't just a shot at trapping him into a deal; it was an attempt at you and who knows what nauseating desires. before he can pummel the two men into the ground, you speak.

"i'm afraid that won't be possible, gentlemen," you pick up a chip and flip it between your knuckles. "the main objective of blackjack is to beat the dealer, not to win exclusively." your eyes never leave the chip. "for example, what will happen to your wagers if only i win?" you place the chip down. "in other words, multiple wagers are useless in blackjack due to its main objective."

sylus smirks as he sits down, pride blooming in his chest. not only were you good at blackjack, but you were also good at navigating your way in and out of technicalities. oh, he's definitely buying you a drink after this. you earned it. besides, he's curious to know what a talented little lamb like you is doing in the n109 zone. maybe a drink or two will soften you up and lay your mind bare.

"what would you suggest, miss dealer?" sherman questions angrily, his eye twitching. "you're impossible to beat, and unfortunately," he chucks a gun onto the table, "i'm not walking away without a deal."

sylus tenses. you don't flinch.

"change the main objective," you eloquently respond as you reach for the deck of cards sylus shuffled. "the three of you will play against each other, and whoever gains a blackjack or the hand closest to it will have their wager fulfilled." you fingers never slip as you pass out the cards. "while a tie may be possible, the likelihood will be drastically reduced, as you will no longer be playing to beat me." your braid your fingers and rest them against your stomach, your eyes unwavering. "you will be playing to win."

while sherman and his lackey mull over your proposal, sylus takes a sip from his glass, his eyes glued to you. what could you possibly gain from this? no bets you can profit from have been placed. not to mention your choice to stay out of this round just cost you your chance to prevent sherman and his lackey from fulfilling their profane desires. his brows furrow, no longer enjoying the feeling nor taste of fizz on his tongue. this entire night you've only led him in circles, forcing him to deal with your unpredictable actions and signature indifference. does he hate this? fuck no. your antics give him a sense of desire, a drive—something he's been severely lacking for a while.

but, sylus' patience is wearing thin. he swears if he can't get you to look at him with anything but that damned emptiness, he's going to force his way into your eyes until they are filled to the brim with nothing but him, him, him.

"mr. sylus?" sherman's lackey snaps him out of his thoughts. "your wager?"

"ah," sylus places his glass down, ignoring the cracks forming on it from how tightly he was gripping it. "if i win-"

he pauses, noticing something.

"miss dealer, why did you give yourself cards? i thought you weren't playing," he inquires with a tilt of his head.

"i gave myself cards to stay true to the dealing rules of blackjack," you answer calmly, extending your arm towards sherman's cards to begin the game. "don't worry, mr. sylus. i won't be playing this round, only dealing. my cards are facedown, after all."

sylus inhales sharply. you said his name. you said his name for the first time. and fuck, did it feel so good to hear it on your tongue.

"stay or hit, mr. sherman?" you option the man. he has an ace of spades and a seven of hearts, giving him eighteen. the man takes another puff of smoke before tapping the table. "a hit," you confirm before flipping a four of clubs. the man curses loudly, sputtering on his cigar. "too high," you declare as you immediately move on to his lackey.

"stay or hit?" you repeat. the lackey has an ace of hearts and an eight of clubs, giving him nineteen. the man sighs before waving a hand. "stay," you confirm before turning to sylus.

you still upon seeing his cards. a ten of diamonds and a nine of spades, bringing him to tie with sherman's lackey. so much for the likelihood of a tie being dramatically reduced. you exhale before asking, "stay or hit?"

"hm," sylus hums. he could technically stay and walk away with a tie. sherman won't be selling him fake protocores since he lost, and his lackey won't get his way with you since he tied. besides, hitting would be risky since the chances of getting a two are barely one percent, and the chances of getting an ace are either four or two percent, depending on what you have.

sylus tilts his head, realizing something.

"miss dealer, may i look at your cards?"

"i don't see why not," you say after a few seconds, ignoring sherman and his lackey's complaints.

"thank you, miss dealer," he purrs, reaching for your cards. "you won't regret it."

you don't say anything. you just cross your arms and lean against the table, resuming your unconcerned demeanor.

sylus grins after flipping your cards. an ace of diamonds and a ten of diamonds. you had a fucking blackjack. for the nth time of the night, you drew another natural. there's no way he's letting you go after this, not after you reduced his chances of getting an ace from four to two percent.

at this point, you've already realized why sylus wanted to see your cards. he was trying to gauge his chances of getting an ace, but since you had the third one from the deck, his chances were now fatally low. not to mention, his chances of getting a two were also low, meaning staying was the best option. you reach for his cards, hoping to clean up and get the fuck out of the n109 zone because you know from the depraved looks he's been giving you, prolonging your stay would be dangerous.

but what you don't know is the type of person sylus is. he's the type of person to spit in the face of fate, probabilities, and every distinct concept known to dictate humanity. people don't call him a "relentless conqueror" for nothing. unfortunately for you, this man has found something he relentlessly wants to conquer: your fucking attention. he makes that very clear when he taps the table.

and god, is he glad he decided to hit because you finally reacted to him.

your once-indifferent eyes were now faltering with uncertainty. your once-crossed arms were now hanging loosely at your sides. your once-relaxed voice was now quivering as you asked, "i'm sorry, a hit?"

sylus runs a finger upon his lips, trying to control his manic grin. oh, you looked utterly confused, and he was all for it. never has he seen such a beautiful and enticing sight: you, pushed to the absolute brink with your eyes bewitchingly transfixed on him, trying to figure out why the hell he would hit when his chances of winning are painstakingly low.

"yes, sweetie." your brows furrow when he calls you that. "a hit," he confirms with a teasing smile.

you gape at him (yes, keep looking at him like that; fill your eyes with him and him only) for a few more seconds before reaching for a card. people just really like to gamble, you reason. there's no way an ace can come out of this. however, your lips can't help but part when you flip over the card.

an ace of clubs.

he won.