I know we're all sort of picturing Rocky just hanging out fully depressed with 22 dead crewmates for 40+ years but I need you all to imagine, just for a second, Rocky holding 22 heart-wrenching space burials and then having the greatest post-burial crashout mirroring Ryland's vodka party. He was probably starfishing on the ground for 2 weeks straight, singing to himself before he got a grip again. I need more headcanons about Rocky doing stupid shit to cope with his grief. Movie!Ryland got to dance with a broom. Fandom, work your magic.
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(Alt + more details under cut. I recommend clicking on it to see the texture without compression!)
Finally got around to drawing something finalized post-Fraud. Gabriel haunting the narrative since his last appearance has been so interesting especially given the introduction of the Powers... that layer was insane man this game is so cool
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Alright so. We know the story of Pierrot and Harlequin, right? How Pierrot fell in love with Columbina, Harlequin was jealous, so he stole away Columbina from Pierrot just to hurt her in the end.
Pierrot is protective of the MC and afraid of letting Harlequin alone near them because he knows what Harlequin can do to anyone who falls in love with Pierrot — steal them away and use them to hurt Pierrot more. Pierrot doesn't fight back because Jester refrains him from doing so, as Harlequin is actually a vital part of the storyline.
Not only that, we know Harlequin does... certain things... to the Fools. The Fools are all dressed up the same — like Columbina.
SO WHAT IF, it was HARLEQUINS IDEA to dress them all up as Columbina so that everytime Harlequin did ANYTHING to the Fools, it would make Pierrot feel like he's losing Columbina all over again, and Jester liked the idea BECAUSE he thought he'd be able to control and manipulate Pierrot better if he was hurting?
Genuinely if this is true I'm gonna scream. This story is so sad
Anyone can join, but I'm calling upon @bobo-kix @softholly @tbcbtq-v-real @red-cedar @critterscreaturescollective @ethmo1d etc. (can't remember anymore moots at the moment, sorryyy)
Whenever I'm looking for make-out scene references I literally just look up "Heated Rivalry kiss scenes" and push past asexuality to watch people make out with each other like they have taxes to pay
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Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Okay so I don't have a title AT ALL for this, buuuuut....
uhh.
hi.
I'm ovulating.
This is a Dating Killmulator fic specifically towards Florian, the psychologist, because apparently, I have a thing for white haired men with the gay body builds.
If you wanna play the game, here.
This is SMUT. STRICTLY. MINORS PLEASE DNI (or read at your own risk!)
Mk so, hear me out — you and Florian have been dating for awhile, and decide to fuck. (Well, last minute choice.)
How long? Lost track. It’s your final year of Uni, and you’re extremely ready to be done with this place.
Well, and then you think back to the condom your dad threw at your face awhile back, which is now sitting in your nightstand drawer. Having an idea before leaving your room, you grab the condom out of the drawer and stuff it into your bag.
.
.
.
Per usual, you meet in Florian’s office. You’d asked him to brew a coffee ahead of time through text, claiming he’d “need it” for the time to come. He barely questioned it, per your response.
When you entered, he was already turning the coffee maker on, and you were locking the door. You pulled the door window covering over, putting your bag down next to the door. Grabbing the zipper, you opened the bag, rummaging through it — there it was, the yellow square wrapper. Pulling it out of your pocket, you walked up to Florian, pressing a kiss to his shoulder to get his attention.
As soon as you did, though, he turned his head with a soft smile. You reached to his hand, sliding the condom wrapper into his palm, closing his fist around it before he could figure out what it was. Though, you already assumed he had, considering the fact his eyes widened when he felt it around slightly.
You moved back, leaning on his desk with your hands, crossing your legs. You smiled when he walked over, coffee long forgotten, his hand moving to your torso, then lower back whilst his other rested on your cheek.
“You know this is a bad idea, right?” He questioned, hand sliding over to rest on your hip, guiding you to sit on the desk and spread your legs. He stood between them, eyes trained on your own.
“Come on. It’s nearing the end of uni. We have severely different career paths. Why shouldn’t we?”
“We’re supposed to be doing thera- mmm,” he tried to reason, only to end up with your lips silencing him. He’d be a fool to not kiss back, of course — which lead to his hands now on your waistband of your pants, thumbs occasionally moving underneath the band as you both kissed, you nails scraping his scalp.
His lips moved with yours like a man who’d danced the same dance a million times over, like a clock that only knows how to spin one way on its own. He shifted to lean against the desk, hands guiding your legs around his waist as he laid you back on the desk, carefully shoving off a notebook or two - he didn’t mind.
His hands slid up the sides of your body beneath your shirt, eventually resting on your upper back, where he fiddled with your bra until he had unhooked it.
Standing up and parting from the kiss, he pulled off his shirt, his chest rising and falling heavily like he’d attempted at running a marathon (though with those muscles, you KNEW he could). His hands guided you to pull off your shirt, allowing him to remove your bra.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss you again, tongue finding yours in a dance that made you a little more aroused than it should’ve. His fingers ran over your breasts, not cupping, but simply resting his thumbs on your nipples. The soft moan you had given into his mouth told him you were enjoying this, though-
He parted from the kiss, opening his eyes to look into yours. “Tell me if you don’t like anything I’m doing, okay? If you need to stop—“
“Don’t stop.” You cut him off, hands on his cheeks pulling him closer to kiss again. “Wait, let me get this off.” He objected, not yet kissing again as he unhooked your legs from his waist, standing upright once more to pull away your pants. He dropped both your pants and underwear onto the floor, eyes raking over your body like admiring a painting or a statue of art, hands guiding his own pants down. You propped yourself up on your elbows, eyes on his groin. When you met his gaze, he was staring at you like he was in love, with a smile that made your heart stutter.
He reached down over and onto the floor, grabbing the dropped condom wrapper and tearing it open. Once he’d removed his boxers, he slid on the condom, making sure it was properly on.
“Tell me if it hurts,” he said, bending overtop of you, guiding your legs around his waist once more, guiding you to lay back again, you nodded, kissing him again.
And then you felt it.
The stretch, the warmth, the barely-noticeable plastic barrier - as much as you hated it, it kept the two of you away from parenthood. Your eyes widened at first, a low moan drawn from your lips that fell away from his to open into an O shape, brows furrowing slightly as he pushed in further, muscles clenching and gripping around him to adjust.
Due to your body’s reaction, of course, he slowed his entering, his eyelids hiding those beautiful shade of pinks he had. He whined softly, lips parting to breathe.
“Are… you okay?” He asked, opening his eyes to look down at your own, wide ones.
“Yeah- yes, keep going, please.” You reassured as he drew another whine from your throat once he’d had his hips now resting against yours, fully hidden within your walls.
“Remember,” he began, huffing as sweat dripped from his temple, down to his chin. “Tell me when to stop.”
With that, he slowly pulled out, then with an agonizing slowness, pushed back in, causing you to moan once again.
The best part of it all? You could feel every bit of him, like the condom didn’t even exist anymore. Not right now, at least.
Another drag of his hips, another sound spilling from your lips. This time, a mewl. You reached up, nails digging small crescents into his skin as he continued his slow, agonizing pace for a full minute. Or two, you couldn’t tell.
“Faster, please, I need—“ you whined when he suddenly lifted you up, pulling out to stand you on your feet. He guided you to bend over his desk, sheathing himself inside you once more. He slid a hand underneath your chest, pulling you up slightly to arch and let him feel your stomach bump from each thrust of him inside you.
As your moans grew louder, his hand cupped over your mouth, muttering for you to quiet into your ear. His lips moved to the side of your throat, kissing gently as he sped up a little faster. He groaned and grunted, occasionally letting out whines from you clenching around him like your pussy wanted him deeper. You propped yourself up on the desk, sounds easily spilling from your lips until he finally gave up and turned your head to kiss him, his chest against your back, the hand once on your hip now holding your face into the kiss and swallowing your sounds.
You reached back, a hand tangling in his hair, the other covering where his left hand pressed to your stomach. You felt it - you were close, you just needed a little more.
Almost like he knew, he slid the hand on your stomach down to tease your sensitive bud.
It felt like the whole world had crashed down on you as you came, gripping him like you’d fall apart without him. He groaned into your lips as he came into the condom, parting from your lips to press his forehead to your shoulder, kissing it weakly.
“God,” you muttered, panting as you attempted to catch your breath, clearly exhausted - and so was he. Gently, he pulled out, tugging off the condom.
“Are you okay? Feel good?” He questioned, hand on your lower back. He helped you into his arms as he guided you to the bathroom of the office, grabbing a few paper towels and wiping you, and himself, clean.
“I feel ‘mazing, actually,” you said, resting your head on his chest as he wrapped his arms around you and simply held you there in the bathroom, pressing a loving kiss to your forehead.
“You did amazing.” he praised, hands holding you with a gentleness that mirrored how he held you mid-sex.
I'm gonna go cry in a corner now that I'm done
I crave sweet pickles. I ate all them from the jar. Please send me pickles.