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Published on Nov 11, 2026

character: c.c., copyright: code_geass 1girl, solo, long_hair, very_long_hair, green_hair, yellow_eyes, big_breasts, zipped-up skinny black leather catsuit, unzipped red leather jacket, jacket covered in semen, many belts and chains on jacket, short tight red leather skirt with black belt and chain, torn black leggings, belt on leg, knee-length red high heel boots with many belts, handbag on shoulder, handcuffs, city, night, streetlights, wet asphalt, dutch angle, from below, cowboy shot, kneeling, back arched, head thrown back, rolled eyes, open mouth, full-face blush, drooling, sweat, heavy_breathing, trembling, motion_lines, spoken_heart, hand on own chest, clenched hand, looking up, cinematic lighting, high contrast, A dutch-angle view from low on the wet street, tilted so the verticals of the city lean, the figure surging up out of frame-bottom with her spine arched and her chin hurled back. She kneels on the rain-slicked asphalt on both knees, one red knee-length boot planted flat under her hip and taking her weight, the other boot turned out with its heel dragging, a dozen buckled straps cinched up each shaft. A short tight red leather skirt is pulled high on her hips and cinched by a black belt whose chain runs down to a strap around her thigh, and below it the torn black leggings split open across the knees in long ragged L-shaped rents, wet fibres fraying pale. The zipped-up skinny black leather catsuit hugs her from throat to ankles, glossy tight over her big breasts and stomach, and the unzipped red leather jacket rides open off her shoulders with its belt straps and swinging chains draping her arms; a slick web of semen clings across the jacket's front panel and lapels, streaked glossy white in the lamplight and caught tacky in the buckles. Her long green hair lifts and pours back over her shoulders in a heavy wave, stray strands sticking to her flushed cheek. Full-face blush burns across her cheeks and nose, her eyes are rolled far up so only smeared whites and a sliver of gold show under the lids, and her open mouth gasps with a thin thread of drool at the corner; her fingers clench white-knuckled against the wet leather over her breast, the handbag's strap biting into the other shoulder, a pair of steel handcuffs hanging from her wrist and swinging with the motion lines that streak the air around her hips. Above her face a small hand-drawn heart sits alone in a little speech bubble, blank and wordless. The single source is a streetlight above and behind her left shoulder: it rims her wet hair and the boot shafts with cold white, throws a long distorted wet-gloss reflection down the road beneath her knees, and leaves the far buildings in absolute black; the only other light is red and green signage blurred down the empty avenue behind her. Palette held to red, black, wet silver and the green of her hair. Feverish, electric.

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