#i have much more free reign.

[rcsetorn]

Valentine's Day - Romance Media Edition

This is really about to expose some of my villain x heroine obsession.  Or those with angsty bits like one being a monster or being a “bad boi”. lol

Movies:

The Princess Bride Labyrinth Phantom of the Opera Stardust Beauty and the Beast The League of Extraordinary Gentleman- Mina x Dorian

TV Shows:

Hazbin Hotel- Alastor x Charlie

Anime:

Gankutsuou Kamisama Hajimemashita Bleach- Orihime x Ulquiorra

Video Games:

Legend of Zelda- Vaati x Zelda, Kafei x Anju FFIV- Cecil x Rosa x Kain FFIX- Beatrix x Kuja (don’t @ me, they had tension) FFX- Seymour x Yuna FFXIII- Lightning x Caius FFXIV- Shiva x Hraesvelgr, Ysayle x Estinien, WOL x Zenos FFXV- Shiva x Ifrit Dissidia- Emperor x Ultimecia, Kuja x Terra Kingdom Hearts- Marluxia/Lauriam x Larxene/Elrena Dark Souls- Knight Lautrec x Ash Maiden Anastacia Mass Effect- Shepherd x Garrus Code Realize- Cardia x St. Germain Pandora’s Tower- Aeron x Elena

Books:

The Forbidden Game- Julian x Jenny Lothaire- Lothaire x Elizabeth Eon- Eona x Ido

Manga/Comics:

Hades x Persephone- just them from mythology and different media in general tbh

Tagging: anyone that enjoys any of these pairings lol

[triglycercule]

"killer. what is this supposed to be?"

"oh, i commissioned one of my fans to draw art of us! isn't it totally cute??"

"well, it's definitely... something."

"... no, it's cute. but how'd you pay for it? last i heard, your balance was..."

"..."

💜/💙/❤️

[basilbots]

Y'all do not need multiple confession blogs to spread more negativity for fucks sake. Not even having the courtesy to use the pre-existing tsams confession tag for people to block any of these kinds of posts isn't cute either

[wlwitchofwhitestone]

I think what's frustrating me the most about what's going on in campaign 3 right now is that the main idea being talked about and given way too much emphasis runs counter to the theme of the m9. If the Nein were about the idea that you can become better no matter what you did or who you were before, the argument set forth and being entertained as a legitimate conflict right now is very "these guys did bad shit a thousand years ago and they should die. Somehow this is good for everyone despite the centuries of good they've done since." Ashton's point was extremely astute that if that's the case, cleanse the entire world motherfucker because we're no better, but the hypocrisy of that was neatly sidestepped (which is at least consistent with Ludinus and fascists of his ilk in general). It's not a real argument, guys. We're not meant to take him seriously.

The gods are the stewards of the only world anyone living has ever known. The fact that they made bad choices that hurt Ludinus and people he knew is a legitimate grievance. The gods are in fact flawed, capable of selfishness, but when confronted with the enormity of the damage they were causing this world, they removed themselves and a whole chunk of their power to seal themselves behind the divine gate. They didn't abandon the world. They didn't withdraw their power and sulk, leaving everyone without their gifts until they begged for a return. They simply care for mortals on the terms of those mortals and ask for nothing not freely given. The people who follow the gods find them worthy of that patronage and Ludinus does not get to erase the choice of everyone else who doesn't agree with him because he's hurt, even if he did have a point (he doesn't).

He thinks, for some reason, that his actions won't result in the same kind of harm on a global scale and completely ignores the damage he has already wrought in the name of a higher purpose because that's what the gods did and they're no better than him. But they are, dipshit. They are better than you. There are people in the world they may not be better than, salient point, but you're not one of them.

And after the light and love that was the core of the Nein - the very thing that shaped Essek into the campaign 3 NPC that he is - it feels extremely disingenuous for "do the gods deserve their power now that you've seen them at their worst" to be perceived as an actual, legitimate conflict in the endgame and a talking point in the Fandom. Especially when the Hells have already been pretty clear that they're not looking to be judge, jury, and executioner of the gods. This is not the central conflict of campaign 3, it's one dumbass's weird motivation to be a villain that needs to be stopped and the fact that it keeps coming up as anything approaching credible is a condemnation of the purity culture mindset in online spaces today.

[beastsovrevelation]

A complete travesty in the Good Omens universe? Michael not being portrayed the leader of angels.

She's supposed to be the Supreme Commander, and she's supposed to be the boss. I sincerely suggest you don't fight me on this hill. For Hell's sake, the actress has the perfect vibe... A crime has been commited here.

Therefore, I swear to fix it in my fanfictions. General, I'll do right by you. ❤

If you can't tell, in spite of being on the opposite side, I'm attached to this figure. I'm protective of this figure. I'll defend this figure with claws and teeth.

[caimitos]

saw a post about projecting your ethnicity onto a character and started missing vespa ilkay. so so bad

[hasarjunadoneanythingwrong]

i think some of takeuchis art is really good and some of it is bad. is that an acceptable stance or is having a non-dichotomous opinion considered passé/wishy washy

[gaytobymeres]

i think the point of a university-level education is a bit lost on some of my course mates...

[the-cat-at-the-theatre-door]

What do you think Bombalurina would be like as a mother? What was her own mother like?

Sorry anon, I had a crazy few days, but I didn't forget this!

Bombalurina's relationship with motherhood is....complicated.

First and foremost, whenever I think of Bombalurina and motherhood, I think of this picture:

But particularly the overall mood I can craft (in my mind) from the way the kitten is being held - a little uncertain, a little awkward, slightly wary, but with something achingly gentle about it. It fits because overall, I think Bombalurina's feelings towards motherhood were and are mixed.

Bombalurina remembers very little of her mother other than she left her behind all those years ago (to do what she never really figured out), and she's got a lot of unresolved trauma in regards to that. So much, in fact, that it prevented her - for the longest time - from thinking she could even be a good mom. It's one of those feelings where she has crafted a very specific idea of what motherhood is meant to be (based on what she needed and what she would conjure up as a kitten), and she doesn't quite fit that mold. Realistically, she didn't really want to be a mother either - in her mind, motherhood sort of meant the end of all things. A passing on of who you were before, even if you aren't ready to leave it behind yet (and what if - a small voice reminds her - that's how your mother felt? What if you turn out just like her and leave them behind?)

It's an uneasy thought, certainly. Better stick to fancy free - that's more in her element. That's what she wants to be - not tied down to anyone or anything. Larger than life, plenty to go around and then some, voluptuous and generous in her words, in her mind, in her actions. She can be the fiercely protective mother hen to her fellows, to Demeter. She can take care of them. She's good at that.

I like to think that Electra is Bombalurina's - but born in a circumstance which was, in all honesty, a bad situation all around and at a time she wasn't really ready *to* be a mother. She never even really *considered* motherhood until it became a very palpable, very alive and slightly frightening reality. And since she was on her own, she had to figure out the baby thing very quickly. But in true Bombalurina fashion, she took it right on the chin. She's always had all of these things thrust on her all her life, and her reputation is usually to go with the flow of it and take it head on, exuding confidence out of every bone in her body. Even if she has no idea what she's doing, she'll make it up as she goes. She'll put the mask on and wear it until the sun rises. And it was no different with her foray into motherhood. Headstrong and stubborn, she is, and it came about so fast she didn't really even have a chance to stop and think about it.

In technicality, she's a really good mom - she knows all the tricks and figured out the best way to feed her and knows which sounds she likes best when it's time to wind down and remembers all her likes and dislikes, and managed to keep Electra safe and - most importantly - a *secret* the entire time they were under that roof together. And she loves Electra - she didn't know you could love such a little thing so much - but she scares her. Inside, Bombalurina's adrift, holding that weight on her shoulders. Even when she stops to consider it when the whirlwind finally quiets down, tries to digest it, she doesn't know how to feel. She feels suffocated, limited, as though now this was entirely who she was meant to be, but she wasn't *ready* to be that yet and sacrifice everything.

But then looking at that little face, feeling the pride she does in her breast or the relief when a fever was broken, she thinks - yes, I want to be her mother. I want to give her everything I didn't have and get her away from this place and make sure she never worries about anything ever again.

But - and isn't it painfully ironic - Bombalurina doesn't think she'll be *enough* for her. Electra doesn't need her - she needs those foggy images of motherly presence Bombalurina holds like cobwebs in her fists. That's what she needed, why wouldn't Electra? And she continues in these hopeless circles for a good long while.

Meanwhile, Bombalurina is Electra's sun and moon. She's everything to that little gal; her whole world for a good chunk of her early life. She's safe and warm; she holds her when there are thunder storms and brings her treats whenever she can. She knows all the words to Electra's favourite song (it's a rock n' roll song she slows down) and curls the ends of her whiskers and tells her what the stars look like. She's a *good* mama, because she is Electra's mama. That's the long and short of it.

(Bomba learns - as the time passes - that there is no real one way to be a good mom. That a "good mom" doesn't look like any one thing. But it takes a lot of coaching through that when they get back to the Junkyard, a decision she is free to make, and with the help of the other queens, she finally starts allowing herself to believe that.)

[suffarustuffaru]

🛒

What are some common things you incorporate in your fics? Themes, feels, scenes, imagery, etc.

MY BAD it has taken me a little while to get to every fic writer question ive been asked pfft but i appreciate all of them and theyre really fun to answer :o and alright ok common things—character psychology is a big thing in all of my work :o aa every time i write a characters pov i try to do at least some research into their personality, backstory, etc etc bc my writing is almost always like?? character study type things?? i Really like delving deep into how characters think!!! :o so a lot of my works are like. you Will hear almost every thought in their head HAH. ive been told i have a very recognizable writing style widndnd but i do try to switch up internal dialogue at least a little bit depending on the pov character. i dont know how effective i am at that but i try HAH plus i think its fun trying to capture how someone thinks in the same way that youd try to capture how they speak in their dialogue. i think the most obvious example is probably my recent reinhard stuff—i tried to sound more formal with him? even with little kid reinhard i wrote his internal dialogue kind of formally because i figured that Might be able to create that bit of Dissonance that reinhard has as a character, you know? hes uncanny.

and uh because i focus on internal dialogue a lot, by the nature of things i kind of Have To slap the unreliable narrator tag on the vast majority of my fics HAH but unreliable narrators are fun and i love playing with them!! and i think its realistic in the sense that even a character thats very fair and just and honest may still have the wrong information at times or have emotion cloud their judgment or be a little unreliable for those reasons. that and i tend to pick the mentally fucked characters (which is pretty easy with the rezero cast HAH) whenever i write Very detailed internal dialogue so!!! unreliable narration and spirals into madness it is!!! i just really like exploring like. the humanity behind each character and all their nuances <3 and i Love having to squint at internal dialogue and add that up with a characters thoughts and actions and figure out who this person Actually Truly Is Like?? its like a puzzle :o !!

as for themes. i went into this a lot in another fic writer ask thingy but Definitely like. when characters change as a result of shit hitting their fan and/or their own choices and now theyre Different from the person they used to be. they came back wrong so now what are they going to do? how are the people around them going to treat them now? how will they treat the people around them? i just really like going into like. identity crisis… and um…. suffering that triggers massive self searching bc. the character changed in some way in order to survive through it physically and/or mentally. like seeing characters change for the worse and seeing them either try to crawl their way out or they. keep going down. it can be hopeful or very tragic!!! (bc i love hurt/comfort and tragedy a lot ajdnd) and complicated relationships are a huge favorite of mine to tackle. fascinating multi-layered stuff that i want to study under a microscope!!! i like when multiple contradictions exist within a dynamic or like. a character and their journey. the complexity feels very real to me and i find it intriguing :o

i also love queer themes but due to um. some of the toxicity in this fandom i do hesitate to do stuff with that in this fandom but i DO love queer themes its just not in most of my work atm but thatll change eventually 👍 ill at least slip in a little bit every chance i get 👍👍 (i have exactly one fic with queer themes atm wjdnd)

motifs/random imagery i use a lot also!!!! mostly bc i find them cool and fun but. yes theyre there for a reason. in my first pride otto fic i used second person pov and avoided using his name at points to emphasize that hes 1. being dehumanized and 2. hes dehumanizing himself too as a result. i uhh have also used star related things for subaru a lot bc Of Course. butterflies and moths for emisuba things…. economics themed titles for my pride otto multichap…. bugs for general pride if things…. comparing the knights uniform to bird wings in my reinhard and heinkel fic… i like to describe outfits in general too (pride otto vs main ottos outfits, also felix not wearing blue in the 2 seconds of screentime he has in my pride if fics atm wkdndn) etc etc :o

[adenthemage]

Okay fine I’ll do it

[rattles you]

Tell me your thoughts on Bishop!!!!!!! I wanna hear!!!

— Trauma

[Is rattled!!]

Oh boy I am so sorry my dear friend but as it happens pushing the Bishop button is even worse than pushing the OC button. I have done extensive historical research for this asshole, and I am totally using this ask as an excuse to infodump about it. God Forgive Me for the length this post is about to be.

Anyway before I get into all that, first the catalyst! The thing that got the part of my brain dedicated to analyzing Agent Bishop turning in the first place: in the post I tagged, you brought up the idea of how much power Bishop actually has, which is something I find super interesting! To me, there are two especially relevant pieces of evidence to consider, and they are as follows:

The first and most compelling to me is that Bishop seems to report directly to the president, which suggests-- as far as I can tell-- that he is pretty high-ranking within the government, or at least takes some priority in getting meetings with important people. It was also shown, briefly, that Bishop worked directly with at least one other president in the past, very early in America's development iirc. However, we know for a fact he does not outrank the president and relies on them for funding, so we can at least draw a hard line there. (There is another discussion to be had from Bishop's relationship to the presidents, which I'll come back around to after this point.)

Second, the level of technology at EPF's disposal. Now, some of it can be said to come from scrapped alien tech and indeed I think some of it is very much implied to be so. But it's clear from the numerous bases, modes of transport and level of defenses that EPF is and has been well-funded. The amount of resources at Bishop's disposal is kinda crazy, and he is also able to fund his own research projects, when the money's not used on the field.

There might also be something to be said of Bishop plausibly being head of EPF for 200 years, and being implied to have founded it. It could suggest a high level of trust and effectiveness, though that's more speculation than evidence. Otherwise, that's mostly why I feel Bishop and EPF do indeed have pretty strong influence within America and its government (wish I could say I had any solid thoughts on his influence outside of the US but tbh what we have suggests he absolutely does not lmao)

As for how Bishop may view the Justice Force, I think your read on it-- him not having much concern because they originate from Earth-- is pretty accurate. Bishop's main priority is protecting Earth from forces outside of it. When it comes to strife within, he doesn't seem too bothered. Despite his greater goals aligning morally good in theory, he very much believes the ends justify the means, and we've seen him dismissive of possibly causing the deaths of innocents because there would be overall long-term benefits. (Which is also why I think an invalid reasoning would be that he leaves JF be because they help people; he doesn't really care about the plight of the individual.)

Them appearing clearly humanoid helps, of course. He is definitely also xenophobic.

On that note, actually! It's also worth noting his interest in the turtles wanes a little after getting their DNA. After that first confrontation most subsequent run-ins with him tend to be the turtles crashing in on an unrelated op. Would he be chill with them getting endorsed by JF, though, that I'm not so sure ghdgdg. There might be a case to be made that vigilantes who regularly screw with government operations should not be getting a JF stamp of approval, and I think he's vindictive enough to press that.

Also on that note I just wish we got to see Bishop's thoughts on those more fantastical parts of the 03 universe more. How much is he aware of the Y'Lyntians and other non-human races native to earth? How aware is he of other dimensions, and did his knowledge and/or protocols change following the events of Turtles Forever? How about time travel and Time Keepers and all that? Given s5 I'm inclined to say he has some awareness of chi, mystics, and/or spirits because he's armed and ready with an arsenal of weapons that are effective against True Shredder's ghost demon army. Things to consider.

Also also! To loop back around on the presidents point: one thing I found really interesting about that is that it suggests the American government has Bishop on record as being alive for 200+ years and counting. So I think it's funny to imagine that after a certain point, every new president has to be sworn to secrecy and let in on the fact that yeah, one of the black ops leaders is functionally immortal, he reports directly to you, have fun.

Anyway those are all the thoughts I had based on that one segment from the radio post ghdvshs I warned you I warned you it's ridiculous

At this juncture I will now be rambling about various other observations, until the event that tumblr forcibly stills my hand:

-Bishop will chameleon into whatever his job requires of him. This is something that became obvious to me (and my captive audience of friends left to suffer my liveblogging my watchthroughs on discord,) after finally learning what the fuck was up with Bishop in Fast Forward. When I originally watched through, I was having trouble reconciling this Bishop with the one I knew and loved, even with the explanation we were given to why he changed his tune. So I posed my issue to The Gang (captive audience) and we stumbled upon a Great Truth on the nature of Agent John Bishop

Bishop, at his core, is fueled by the trauma he experienced when he was abducted so long ago, and it turned into a strong motivation to keep Earth safe so no one would ever have to experience that again (and also revenge. Revenge was a big part of it, too. But I digress.) At the core, Bishop's motivations are morally-good. And here's the other thing about Bishop, he's willing to throw away ANYTHING to achieve his goals. Nothing is sacred, not even human lives. As such, it follows Bishop will become whatever is most needed of him to accomplish his goals, too, including overhauling his behavior. This has likely already taken place numerous times in the "present," given Bishop comes from a different time period and would have to be constantly adapting to modern etiquettes and sensibilities. But this becomes even more likely in the event that he wanted to achieve and maintain an elected position, like the presidency he holds in Fast Forward. And indeed he succeeds, as we hear through Cody that he's extremely well-respected and beloved by the public.

I think it is very likely a majority of the Bishop we see in FF is a well-practiced act to become as personable as possible. He decided the best way to protect Earth was to ally with other planets, and chameleoned himself into the perfect ambassador in order to achieve this. So because his ultimate goal aligns morally-good, he became good in pursuit of it, despite his true nature (which is a sadistic mfer.) I also think it's way funnier to think FF Bishop is constantly surpressing urges to choose violence.

And piggybacking off of that, the other really interesting idea here is that Bishop's ultimate goal will create a world were people like himself will have no place. Bishop is, again, a sadistic fuck, he enjoys inflicting suffering on others. And here he's so effectively created an era of peace that even staged wrestling is considered violent and barbaric. How bored out of his mind must he be on the regular? How must he feel knowing he can never sate those violent tendencies or the world he built will turn on him in a heartbeat? What keeps him working for the same goals regardless?

(I still think the execution was clunky in FF despite how great the ideas behind it are. Are you telling me Bishop isn't internally obsessing over how the fuck the turtles just showed up 100 years in the future looking like teenagers still? You telling me the turtles don't listen to Bishop go 'hey guys I'm good now want to work with me :)' and don't immediately have 20 million alarm bells going off cuz that is DEFINITELY A TRAP and HOW IS BISHOP HERE if he has access to time travel that's REALLY BAD)

-Despite being an antagonist, Bishop almost always succeeds. THIS RIGHT HERE is one of the things I find most fascinating about Bishop as a character. Motherfucker can't stop winning. And it's especially interesting because as an agent in the story he is aligned to nobody but himself; he's just as likely to come into conflict with the turtles as he is to pick a fight with one of their enemies. Sometimes he does both at once!

But like, when it comes to the greater goals Bishop sets out to accomplish his success rate is pretty damn high. The Slayer might be the most overt failure, he got skewered and his creation ran off to live with the rats so rip to that one. But like, he succeeds in getting the turtles' DNA samples, he succeeds in tricking the president into giving him more funding, he's able to blackmail fuckin Oroku Saki, he's able to trick the turtles into doing his dirty work, and so on and so forth. This goes hand-in-hand with his chameleon abilities. He is ruthless, willing to sacrifice anything to win, and he has been shown very capable of thinking outside the box. I think the fact that he's from a different time and lived through so many cultural shifts has a big part in the latter.

Also, this guy takes on 6+v1 odds multiple times and holds his own. Like what the hell. I could go into a whole other thing about his fighting style but this is gonna be long enough as it is-- all I'll say on that point for now is that Splinter is the only character shown to consistently give him trouble in a fight, which has an amazing effect of hyping both of them up.

-Bishop must have some level of medical background. This is mostly just speculation based on the fact that, when we're first introduced to Bishop and he's trying to perform vivisection on the guys, he's the only one in the room. I imagine you don't want to screw up your samples with something like a vivsection? Though I can't say I'm terribly knowledgable on the subject, considering the vested interest he has in actually getting the samples, I doubt he cleared the room without knowing he'd be able to do so. (The other reason is definitely just for his own sadistic thrills, of course.)

-I mentioned before, but Bishop seems to be lenient with scientists, even those not under his employ. Obv he's pretty indulgent with Stockman despite his attitude (at least, as close as Bishop can get to Not Terrible,) and he remains as loyal to keeping Stockman employed as Stockman is willing to stay in EPF. Bishop is also shown to have some level of respect or acknowledgment for both Donny and Leatherhead's intelligence, and iirc he's also seen to have some investment in Dr Chaplin Not Dying in s5.

This also could suggest Bishop is just a good employer in general, which I think would be a funny contrast to how we usually see him portrayed.

-Bishop's current accent is probably not his original one. This has no bearing on anything, but John Bishop was born in 1773 and they did not talk like we do, now. I'm not sure if he would develop a contemporary accent naturally, since he has been alive and actively working with people this entire time, or if this would be something he'd had to have worked to change intentionally.

-After running the math, Bishop was probably about 43 when he stopped aging.

-Who tf is the monster to Bishop?? Seriously this is going to haunt me forever we never get any closure on that and it's the closest we see to Bishop having a personal life or connections outside of just his work. One thing I've extrapolated from this, though, is that he was probably working on a way to reverse whatever transformed that man, and this meant he actually had a bit of a head-start on a formula to reverse mutations when the outbreak happened. 

-Despite my opining for more Bishop content, I actually love how ambiguous a lot of his personal information is. It makes him stand out as an audience member, especially before they reveal anything about him and we see this dude just get up and walk off being impaled through the chest. It also just enforces a sense that nobody really knows him. We're only even privy to the fact that he's from the 18th century because it's an opening stinger for an episode, none of the other characters are aware of it. I love that.

-If you ever need some vibes for playing out a scene with Bishop, I cannot recommend the Utopia soundtrack enough. Monarch's Pyramid, To You All Kids Will Come, Meditative Chaos, and Jessica Gets Off are the ones I give the most listens.

-Given how very little we're shown of Bishop outside the context of EPF, I'm partial to thinking he literally never takes a break. Every waking moment he's working, he hasn't had a vacation day in 200 years. That's just a headcanon, though.

-Whenever Bishop appears on-screen, you can usually bet the show is about to dip 20 shades darker. This is initially what got me so invested in him, he's a harbinger for when the show's like Get Fucking Ready.

Anyway. I think about him too much. I intend to rewatch 03 after finishing my binge of 87 and compile even more observations, too, so maybe I'll have even more to say by then, who knows loL. In the meantime please take some extra Bishop doodles from my sketchbook and this moodboard of what my discord ramble box has looked like for the past few months

[savage-rhi]

Fuchsia? 😂

[muu-kun]

"Do you know what is that I love? Talking about me wife and of wearing all of women's clothing. Oh, and definitely my doggy. Match is very easy the best dog out there. He's cute and always is a good for Nana when she watching him. Oh, but.. Then I remember to say I also love my Nana. I am always her favorite. I also have me a grandpa, a daddy, and a big brother that I love much, too.. Hm, not my mommy as much, though. She doesn't listen too good at what we as her babies is up to, and never does showing up to a our accomp.. accomplishes. Grandpa does inviting her to things always to be being nice to her, but never does she even call to say how come she not coming.."

[madame-fear]

𐙚 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐃.

ೀ amira speaks.ᐟ : this was written for my most lovely wifey @lady-ashfade,, who’s been thirsting a little bit too much for the serving Strong boy, Jacaerys. It’s something shorter than usual as I wrote it with the little free time I have,, but I hope you all enjoy it anyways. ♡ ˗ˏˋ ꒰ summary : there is nothing that the eldest son of Rhaenyra enjoys more, than filling you with pure dragonseed to prove you are only his. ˗ˏˋ ꒰ word count : 500.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ pairing : drabble, smut. ˗ˏˋ ꒰ genre : Jacaerys Velaryon x Wife!Reader

WARNING.ᐟ THIS FIC CONTAINS ; breeding kink. p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, Jace being slightly possesive over you. a really short drabble written by an exhausted author so excuse any mistakes.— lmk if I forgot anything else!

“Umbagon iēdrosa,”

A kiss was delivered to your lips, silencing you from letting another loud groan escape; his own lips pressed firmly against yours. Jace’s fingertips digged deep in your skin, almost clawing it, as his hands were placed in your hips, forcing you to remain still.

Helplessly, a whimper was released against his lips, simultaneously feeling Jace groaning faintly. A warm feeling occupied your stomach leisurely, as his cock pulsated deeply inside of you. You had lost track of time, having been in that already aching position for a good while— almost all night had passed with your moist cunt getting filled with his seed.

“F-Fuck,” your words grew stuck on your throat, digging your nails on his back, as your other hand interwined it’s fingers on his brunette curls in the back of his head. And as if all those hours getting cum-filled hadn’t been enough, Rhaenyra’s heir slightly moved out of you, only for his cock to leisurely push once again back inside— sliding in and out so easily of your wet pussy, as his member was coated with your fluids.

“I’m sorry, ñuha dōna jorrāelagon,” he began muttering in between pants, placing his lips on your neck’s sweet spot— knowing each one of your most delicate corporal zones, and that was something to take pride for whenever you squirmed beneath him. “But, I need you to carry my heirs. And when you do, everyone will know just how much I adore filling you with my seed.” another groan spurred from your lips, as his hardened cock increased the pace in which it constantly hit your inner sweet spot.

You ached with each one of his movements; your soft groans and pleas occupying the silent space in your shared chambers. With the passing hours of the night, you felt almost oversensitive even to the slightest touch— but, at the same time, you couldn’t deny it felt satisfying to feel his erected size releasing it’s cum inside of you.

Both your trembling legs were firmly interwined on top of his back, offering him free access to keep pushing himself deeply inside of you, as you hid your face on the crook of his neck— weakly nibbling on your lower lip to hold back your continous pleas, your ragged breathing hitting against his exposed skin.

A faint fleshy sound was provoked with each single hit against your cunt, his length beginning to throb softly, while a knot tangled on your stomach. Growls escaped from him, holding you firmly in place. A feeble grin grew on the corner of his rosy lips, hotly breathing against your own skin as well. One of thumbs gently caressed your skin, lazily placing kisses all over that precious face of yours— admiring every inch of you.

“Otherwise, how else will everyone know who you belong to?”

taglist

@damatheirin @jacesvelaryons @capellaadara @kyuupidwrites @tchatso @mstxdes @valeriecash @cookielovesbook-akie @zzz000eee @bellarkeselection @feliuuuksks @visenya-reigned @maria699669 @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @sweethoneyblossom1 @jamiemydeer @snowprincesa1

@aegonswife @cloveradora @angrybirdxx @crack240

[stinkbeck]

i'm fine + i don't give into my mild persecution complex when someone in the academy warns me against something i know the consequences of.

[sanatomis]

⋆౨ৎ˚ ──── 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐔𝐒𝐄.

it's been on your mind for a while now. and, even though he's a little confused at first, it takes satoru very little time to warm up to your enticing offer.

დ content. fr3e use kink, cursing, female!reader, fingering, vaginal sex, creampie, consensual somnophilia, deepthroating, cum-swallowing, mentions of satoru eating it from the back <3

დ notes. second attempt at posting this on tumblr, don't mind me. it's crossposted on ao3 bc my previous attempts at posting all failed miserably (it never showed in the tags ://)

Satoru is confused. It doesn’t take you much time to notice that your softly spoken words have him quite rattled, as the results of them can so clearly be observed on his face. There’s his nose that scrunches up cutely, and a little tilt of his head to the left which comes accompanied by a few snowy strands of hair shifting across his forehead. A small furrow of his brows, the soft gnawing on his bottom lip. He’s thinking about it; mulling over your offer. 

Three times, he tries to say something. His mouth opens once, twice, and it’s futile. Not a word escapes, and he takes a sharp intake of breath. You almost believe that, if you weren’t currently seated opposite him, he’d smack the side of his head a few times to make sure it’s still screwed on right. 

“So, I just. . .” The third time really is the charm, it seems. Though, he never quite manages to finish what he was going to say. 

“Just put it in, yeah.” 

You finish it for him, you’re sweet like that. It does really seem as if he could use the help.

“Wh—whenever I. . .” 

There’s a little voice in your head, chiming and chattering about how all of this is weird. It makes you nervous, and your fingers itch to play with your necklace to fight it. 

“Whenever you want,” you confirm. It’s as if your heart has suddenly moved to your throat. 

“Wha—what if you’re asleep?”

“I said whenever you want, didn’t I?” 

He almost lets out a little squeak at the words you so casually give him. They surprise him, as they do you. Your last sentence wasn’t one spoken by your mind, and you shift in your seat as if it’d shush the part of you that did. 

It’s as if you’re telling him what you’d eaten for breakfast this morning, not giving him permission to slip, bully and sheat his cock into your needy cunt at any given time of the day. Without needing to ask, too. Satoru can fill you up, stuff you full, and dump so much of his cum into you until you’re overflowing, and he can do it whenever he feels the need to—because he’s Satoru, and you love your Satoru.

“Are you sure?” He asks, a hint of apprehension laces his voice. Your heart almost swells at his concern, at his hesitancy and need to confirm your wishes; even if you’ve vocalised them so bluntly. “Maybe, think about it for a little long—” 

“I have,” you interrupt him. As gentlemanly as he’s being, there’s no mistaking the darkening of his eyes. The pretty, baby-blues making way for something sinister. You suddenly don’t feel so nervous anymore. “I have thought about it. Way too much, and for way too long.” 

A string of curse words tumble past his lips. They’re hushed, and quick, and from the way he, too, shifts in his seat you gather that he’s hard. Painfully so, if the bulge forming in his pants is anything to go by. Your relationship has existed long enough for you to know that drops of his pre-cum are staining the fabric of his boxers already—always so messy, your Satoru. The mere thought has you wanting to take him out, to put him in your mouth and lap at the sticky, white beads falling down his length. 

“Please,” you plead softly, and watch how he stifles a groan at the needy, saccharine sound of it. You want more, more of that sound. Right next to your ear, preferably. “Use me, Satoru.” 

There’s little you want more than that, little that arouses you more than that. The thought of Satoru taking you whenever he wishes, abiding by his whims and allowing him free-reign over your body—it instils a heat into your stomach, into your core. It makes you feel filthy, like a cheap whore picked up from the street; but you’d be his whore, and suddenly it all starts to feel like a dream. It’s Satoru. Satoru, Satoru, Satoru. He’ll be gentle, and he’ll be kind, and he’ll stop as soon as you utter your safeword, and he’ll love you so much, even if he fucks you as if he doesn’t. 

You have half a mind to ask him again, to plead, to beg for it again, as it almost feels as if he didn’t quite hear you. But, as soon as you open your mouth to do so, he immediately latches his lips onto yours. It’s messy, and sloppy, and entirely fueled by the frantic state his mind is currently in—but you don’t complain, and never will. 

His hands are everywhere and nowhere all at the same time, and you feel him almost buzzing with excitement. Your teeth clash against one another at the force of the kiss, your tongues greedily seek the other out, and saliva gets swapped from your mouth to his, and vice versa. It’s dirty, and sticky, and almost brings you back to your high-school years, when he’d been all clumsy hands and feigned confidence on the night you’d lost your virginity to each other. 

Satoru pulls back from your kiss first, and a small smile falls over his lips when he notices you chasing him. “Wait a minute, sweets,” he murmurs, forehead against yours. His breathing is heavy, as is yours, and you don’t want to wait a minute—you want him, now, tomorrow, and each day after that. “Are you. . .” He chuckles when you kiss him again, and again, and again. You only stop when he holds your head in place. “Are you completely sure about this?” 

You blink up at him, eyes wide and lips swollen. “Mhm,” you hum, and caress his cheekbone with one of your thumbs. Satoru melts in your hold, as he always seems to do. “‘S you, ‘Toru. I’m completely sure when it’s you.” 

He lets out a shaky breath. There’s a storm of emotion behind his eyes, but all of them point to the same conclusion—he loves you. So much, you might even get sick of it one day; he’d told you as a joke, one born out of fear. But you won’t. You never will. And you think he’s starting to realise it, finally. 

“Okay,” he whispers, and kisses your forehead. 

It’s delicate, and loving, and so opposite from the way he buries himself into you over, and over, and over again a mere five minutes after that. Satoru’s needy, and impatient, and so pent-up from your previous conversation that foreplay gets thrown out of the window. 

He bends you over the couch first, that cute little ass of yours jiggling right in front of his face as he mounts you from behind. He slips in easily, with a pussy as wet as yours, and a cock as leaky and hard as his—the lack of foreplay almost goes unnoticed. Almost, of course, as the sheer size of him never fails to elicit a hint of a burn as he stretches you out. Nevermind that you take his cock daily, or that your walls are bound to carry his shape after the many years you spend with him. 

The sounds that decorate your apartment are filthy, lewd, and borderline obscene, but you’re thoroughly obsessed with them. The slapping of his balls against your ass, the squelching with each passing thrust, the deep groans and choked whimpers Satoru releases next to your ear just like you wanted. Even your own moans, your own babbles, and your own whines add to the experience; the combination of sounds. And you love it, because it’s you, and it’s Satoru—and it’s the two of you together. 

It doesn’t end after Satoru cums, nor does it after you do. The agreement between the two of you that was made tonight seems to have done a number on him, and he takes you a second time. On the balcony, where he puts you on display for the world to see as he fills you over and over again. And a third time, in your shared bed that’s never been safe from his affection and blatant desire towards you. And a fourth time, in the shower that was initially meant to clean you up, he decides to dirty you even further. 

If this is the reaction he gives to the mere idea of using you whenever he pleases, you long for the time that he actually does.

It’s well past midnight when Satoru finally decides he’s done with you. You’re curled into his side, a shirt that’s way too large for you (but one that you swore you didn’t steal from him) covers your figure. You’re asleep. Tired, exhausted, and completely knocked out. He smiles. You’re so cute. A love-sick expression is stuck to his face, and it may very well become permanent if he stays looking at you. 

One of his fingers reaches in-between your thighs, gently scooping up the remnants of his release. Satoru almost coos at the way your nose scrunches up cutely when he starts to finger it back into your pussy. It allows his digits to slip easily through your folds, and she sucks them in as soon as he reaches your hole. His cum doesn’t leak out this time. Not yet, anyway, but even if it does, he’s more than willing to repeat the process. 

He sighs. Mind full of thoughts, but at least his balls are empty now. There’s a little huff escaping his lips, and he’s amused at his own comment. Satoru shakes his head, but the small smile remains nonetheless. Strong, yet gentle arms pull your body tighter against him. 

You’re delicate, and sweet, and so precious to him; and he will do his best to take care of you. Use me, use me, use me. He kisses your forehead, his own eyes falling shut. 

He will most certainly try to. 

The very first time Satoru entertains the idea of indulging in your offer, is on a day where you’ve decided to wear his favourite lipgloss. It’s so shiny, such a cute shade, and makes you look so beautiful, but above all—it’s sticky. It’s sticky, and easily smudged, and he knows from experience that everything feels so much filthier when he steals a kiss from you with it on. 

Without meaning to, thoughts of you wrapping those glossed lips around his dick, creating a mess made-up of spit, cum, tears, and thus that delightful stickiness from your lipgloss, enters his mind. The coloured shade will leave a perfect ring around his length, there’s no doubt in his mind. Your pretty face will be all dirty, smudged stains near the corners of your mouth courtesy of his fat cock. You will be a sight for sore eyes. 

You’re talking to him, but Satoru can’t seem to listen. He’s enamoured by your lips, your soft-looking, plumb, and very glossed lips. He briefly feels pathetic, knowing that a mere make-up item has the ability to make his head spin to such a degree—but he doesn’t, as he quickly realises it only does so because it’s you that’s wearing it. 

Fuck, he really wants to stuff his cock into your mouth. 

Five, six, almost seven seconds pass before the realisation kicks in. If he wants to put his cock in your mouth, then he can. Satoru’s body moves on its own before he gets a chance to think about his actions, as is often the case with him, and it's not long before his large hand finds its new home on the back of your head. He falters briefly, watching how you quiet down, how your eyes widen slightly, but continues as he’s doing when you make absolutely no move to stop him when he gently guides your head down, and down, and down—until you’re right where he wants you. 

A small gasp leaves your lips when he puts you on eye-level with his crotch. It’s quiet, and he almost didn’t hear it, but it makes him pause nonetheless. The hand on your head loosens its grip, and he hesitates as he looks down at you. 

“Is this oka—” 

The sentence never gets finished, forever interrupted by a sharp hiss as you take his cock out of his pants with such unabashed eagerness. It slaps against his abdomen, leaky tip staining the fabric of his shirt. Your previous conversation is all but forgotten, it seems, as you don’t waste a second in taking his hard, aching length almost entirely into your mouth. It all happens so quickly, and Satoru’s mind almost can’t keep up. All he did was think about filling your mouth, and now he’s actually doing it; the fat tip prodding near the back of your throat. 

His hands are shaky, he notices, and so is his breathing as a small whine escapes when one of your hands goes downwards to play with his balls. “Fuck!” he curses, caught by surprise at the boldness with which you reached for that part of him. In his startle, his hands return to the back of your head, and your words make their impromptu return to the very front of his mind. 

Use me. 

He will, then. 

Satoru isn’t at all gentle when he does. His fingers tangle into your hair, and he pushes you down onto his cock until your nose brushes against the soft, white hairs near his pelvis. Your poor little mouth is struggling, he can see, but he can’t seem to pay much mind to it; the sounds of you gagging around his thick length are too much of a pleasure to hear. The way he pushes you up-and-down nears the realm of brute force, and still you eagerly suck, and suck, and suck. 

A particularly loud groan echoes through the room when he steals a glance at your small form kneeling between his legs. It seems he knows you well; you are a sight for sore eyes like this. There are tears in your eyes, and some of them have already fallen down your hollowed cheeks; hollowed, to make space for him. Your mouth is filled to the brim with his cock, and even though he can see you fighting for breath, you never make an attempt at catching it—as if you wouldn’t dare to deprive him of the please your throat gives him. 

Satoru catches himself falling in love all over again. 

He fucks your face harder, and harder, and harder the closer he gets to the edge. Deep groans, and slurred curse words join your symphony of muffled moans, and his hold on your head slowly starts to falter. 

“‘M close, princess,” he mumbles, but that’s about all the warning he gives you. A few seconds later, he cums down your throat. He doesn’t ask, he doesn’t need to. Not because you’d given him permission to use you as he sees fit, but simply because he knows you’re utterly obsessed with him doing so. “Fuck, f—fuck, look a’you, hm? Gonna take all of it like a good girl? Don’t waste it, m’kay? S’all for, fuck, for you.” 

It’s something he’s done countless times before, but Satoru swears that each time he spills his cum down your throat feels better than the last. Thick, sticky ropes fill your mouth, and you hum around him when it keeps going, and going, and going. You’re struggling to take it all, and he huffs in amusement when bits of it start to drip down your chin. His thumb catches it, and he quickly places it back in your mouth, forcing you to open it wider to accommodate both the digit and his slowly softening cock. You happily do so. 

He pulls out of you shortly after, with his chest heaving as he recuperates. His entire focus is on you, you, and you as he watches you wipe your mouth and swallow the last of his seed. There’s a smile on your face. It’s kind, and gentle, and innocent; almost as if he hadn’t just fucked your mouth and dumped his release down your throat. Satoru is utterly bewitched as he watches you, captivated by all and every little thing you do, and he cooperates as you tuck him back into his pants. 

And then, as if nothing at all happened, you sit down next to him again—and you speak, you continue talking, finishing the story he’d interrupted with his need to be sucked off. Your voice is hoarse, and your cheeks are still stained with dried tears, but you pay neither of those facts any mind. It makes all of this look so. . . mundane. You were speaking, and then you were between his legs, and now you’re speaking again. 

Satoru’s heart starts to beat even faster for you. Fuck, that’s so hot. This time, he decides to try his very best to listen to your tale about some co-worker of yours that pissed you off this week. He pitches in every-now-and-then, adding a low ‘huh,’ or ‘mhm’ to keep you occupied, and he almost feels guilty—guilty, because all his adrenaline-filled mind can think about are the future possibilities of using you.

“And, wanna know what’s the worst thing about the situation? It was my idea to get donuts for everybody! That harlot didn’t even want them initially.” 

Satoru’s downward spiral is inevitable, and he finds himself falling victim to it more times than one would consider healthy in a mere seven days. He very quickly learns that he’s thoroughly obsessed with the notion that allows him to fill you up anywhere, and at any time. To him, it’s one of the highest honours. 

There’s such confidence, such unwavering faith encompassed in your view of him. There has to be, if you’re willing to allow him such a thing. Thinking about it almost causes a cute pink hue to colour his cheek. . .you really do trust him a lot, huh?

He’s never been able to tell you ‘no’ before, and he certainly isn’t about to start. So, he dutifully listens to you and abides by your delectable request. To satisfy you, of course. There’s absolutely no other reason for his actions, and the way he breaches your dripping cunt with his leaky tip, all while soft breaths leave your lips, and your pretty eyes are peacefully shut, is simply to indulge you. 

Use me. Use me. Use me. 

Satoru curses, the crude words that tumble past his lips being plenty colourful. One of his hands settles on your hip whilst the other hikes your (or rather his) shirt up to provide him with better access. It’s your fault, really, that he’s currently sporting one of the hardest boners of the century. You were waiting for him, weren’t you? Waiting for him to return and bury himself to the hilt in that sweet, sobbing pussy of yours. 

There’s no other reason for you to fall asleep with nothing but his shirt on. Not even panties covered your cute little cunt, your sticky folds fully on display and welcoming him home. Satoru wants to bury himself in it—in a multitude of ways if he’s being truly honest with himself. For now, though, he’ll stick to simply one. 

“Shh,” he coos into your ear, delicately rubbing soft circles into your upper thigh with his thumb. You whine faintly, feeling his cock fight its way past your walls. He splits you open, stretching you just wide enough to slip inside. Your nose scrunches up cutely, and he almost rouses you from your slumber.  “‘S me, really need you, baby.” 

And that’s all he has to say. It’s me. It’s your Satoru. A gentle whisper of those words, and he gets to use you as he pleases. All of his previous worries, all of the near-boiling anger he felt at his previous meeting with the higher-ups washes away as soon as he sinks himself balls-deep into your pussy. Satoru groans deeply at the feeling, and gentle, stuttered declarations of love are babbled into your ear with each slow drag of his cock along your walls. 

The garbled mesh of words that he deems too important not to say, even despite their poor enunciation, only ceases to exist a few minutes later—when he spills his heavy load into that sweet, sweet cunt of yours. No, into that sweet cunt of his. Because, that’s who it truly belongs to, no? It’s his, to use, to spoil, to worship. You’d offered it to him so kindly, after all. And, well, Satoru has never been the type of person to turn down a gift. 

. . . You unknowingly create a monster. It seems that even the mere idea of being allowed to use you as he pleases has him tip-toeing around the line of borderline insanity. As each time he sees you, he wants you. . .and each time he wants you, you let him. 

It doesn’t matter what you’re doing at that moment. Even if you’re speaking, and he suddenly feels the need, no, the simple want for a blowjob. And even if you’re asleep, resting after what must have been a long day, you still allow him to slip his aching cock into you to satisfy the craving he’s had for hours. 

Even if you’re busy setting the table, you don’t push him away, and you still allow him to bend you over the wooden surface, to sink to his knees and lick, suck, and kiss around his pretty pussy with his tongue. Simply because he wants to do it, and you really do so, too. 

. . .And even now, when you’re cooking dinner. 

There’s a certain cuteness about the way your brows scrunch in concentration, about the way you gently bite on your bottom lip as you prepare the food for the two of you; it nearly makes him feel guilty for feeling the secret desire to ruin such a lovely, innocent view. The word nearly is important, however, as he’s acutely aware of your need for him to do exactly that—and so, any sense of wrongdoing melts away, similar to snow underneath the sun.

He’s not quite sure what it is that you’re cooking, but it smells delectable. There’s an array of spices, herbs, and vegetables strewn around the counter, and Satoru knows he’ll be eating like a King in a few minutes. As for right now, though, there’s a different craving, a different type of hunger slowly making its way forward. He fears it won’t be one that’ll be sated by your lovely culinary skills. 

“Smells good, baby,” he mumbles. It doesn’t take him long to settle himself behind you, large hands gently coming to rest on your hips. He sighs in the crook of your neck, and nudges the skin with his nose. “What’cha making?” 

You answer. He knows you do, as he feels the vibrations of your voice underneath his lips, the soft hum feeling quite soothing as he kisses along the column of your throat, but Satoru can’t find it in himself to focus on the words you give him. His ever-loose hands roam eagerly down your body, and the previous loving, and delicate kisses along your neck turn sloppy, wet, almost, as Satoru dips one of his hands underneath the waistband of your panties. There’s a grin forming on his lips, one entirely too big and full of confidence. 

“‘M startin’ to think you’re just always wet for me, pretty girl,” he mumbles against the shell of your ear, fingers entirely coated in your slick the second he’d sunk them into your dripping cunt. 

Your cheeks heat up, and you try to stifle a moan when he, so very, very slowly starts to move his fingers in-and-out of you. “I—I am,” you admit, and clench around his digits just as he’s about to take them out; as if it’s a last resort to keep them inside. “F’you, Satoru. Just for you.” 

“Hm?” He hums, and almost huffs in amusement as he sees you trying to continue what you were doing so desperately, as if you weren’t being fucked on your husband’s fingers. Just for that—he rapidly thrusts his fingers back into you, harsher, deeper, and so much quicker. “Just for me, yeah, princess?” 

“Y—Ah! Yes, yes,” you squeak, one of your hands seeking out some semblance of support from the kitchen counter.  “Only for you.” 

There’s an embarrassing sound hitting your ears, as each thrust of his absurdly long fingers is accompanied by your wetness squelching around them. You struggle to speak, to breathe almost, as he fucks you on his fingers. Satoru stretches you out, curling his fingers to find the spot he knows will leave you with those pretty tears falling down your cheeks, and to hit it over, and over, and over again. 

There’s such a heat gathered between your legs, such a pleasurable source of warmth, and Satoru suppresses a groan as he’s once again made very aware of that fact when your walls clench around his digits. His cock twitches, and he lets out a shaky sigh as he grinds it against your ass. “You are, aren’t you? Hm? C’mon, baby, don’t be shy. . .be a little louder.”

You aren’t shy. You haven’t been for a while now. There’s a certain hotness in the way you moan so unabashedly, so utterly shamelessly whenever Satoru gets his hands on you in such a way—it’s as if you can’t ever get enough of him. It never fails to harden his cock even more, to make his balls feel achingly heavy until he ultimately empties them inside your tight little cunt. And you know so, which is exactly why you do it. 

“‘M not,” you rasp out, one of your hands coming to rest on his wrist. The back of your head falls against his shoulder as you choke on a moan, seeking some very necessary aid to stay upright. “Please, I. . .’Toru, please.”

In all honesty, Satoru isn’t quite sure what you’re begging for. He knows it’s one of two options: either to cum on his fingers, or for him to push his thick cock inside your pussy already. There’s no desire to ask, however—he’d much rather make that decision himself. The hand that wasn’t currently burying three of its digits knuckle-deep into your pussy busies itself with his belt-buckle. 

There’s a pitiful whine falling from your lips, one that’s released immediately upon the removal of his fingers from your cunt. “Shh,” he coos in your ear, instantly soothing your upcoming tantrum. You stifle the complaint you’d prepared for him, the feeling of his fat tip prodding near your too-eager hole quickly puts an end to it. “S’okay, pretty girl, just wanna feel you cum around my cock, s’all. . .Think you can do that for me?” 

You nod, and rapidly so. “Mhm,” you hum, and open your mouth when he presents it with his soiled fingers. You clean them, suckling around them until each bit of your sweetness is gone. “Want to—really wanna cum around your cock, ‘Toru.”

“Of course, you do,” he breathes, and captures a quick kiss. And another. And another. And one more. It makes you smile, and that, in turn, makes him smile. When he does pull back, there’s as much love as there is lust dancing in his eyes. “Wouldn’t have expected anything less of you, princess.”

Satoru is often greedy. There’s no such thing as savouring something with him—if he’s enjoying himself, he’ll be as gluttonous as he wishes. The exception is you, of course, as you always are to him. There’s no greater feeling than savouring you. It’s why he, more often than not, decides to fill you up slowly. To let his cock drag along your walls, to let your soothing warmth engulf him inch, by inch, by inch, until his firm balls press up against your ass. He does so this time, too. 

Your long, drawn-out moan as he fills you up slowly sounds as if it were gifted to him by the Heavens, and Satoru’s cock twitches inside when he hears you mutter a soft fuck as you struggle to adjust to him. It’s certainly not the first time you’ve taken his cock, but the sheer girth of him still stretches you out—as it always does. Your husband loves you dearly, however, and waits. . .one second, two seconds, three seconds, and he doesn’t get any further before his self-restraint falters. 

Satoru nearly pulls himself out of your cunt completely, only for him to fuck himself back inside so deeply—it has you place both palms of your hands on the counter to steady yourself. It startles you, as he hears you choke on a moan, but he continues. His movements are quick and rough, animalistic even, as he pounds into your cunt. 

“Sa—ngh, Satoru, wait, I. . .” You interrupt yourself with a moan, the feeling of his tip near your cervix too sharp for you to properly finish a sentence. He’s so deep. It feels as if he’s in your womb, in your stomach—it feels as if he’s everywhere. “Fuck, I. . .f—fuck, ‘Toru. . .”

 “Hm?” He breathes out, a groan slipping past his lips. “Want me to, fuck, you. . .” His rapid movements dial down. The self-control needed for it is enormous, but you’d asked him to wait—so he will. Some beads of pre-cum drip into your cunt, as if his cock was upset that he’d suddenly slowed down. “Wan’me to go slower, baby?”

“No,” There’s a small whine near the end of your sentence. It’s the absolute last thing you wanted him to do, even if you originally asked him to wait. “No, don’t, please, keep going. Need—need more.” You feel Satoru wrap both hands around your hips, as if he’s preparing for something. “Harder, please. . .”

“Harder?” He asks, and you don’t need to see him to know there’s currently a sense of smugness ruining his pretty face.  “How hard do you want it, huh, sweets?” 

Little more than the tip remains inside you, and there’s not a moment for you to mourn the loss of his entire girth—as all air leaves your lungs when he immediately thrusts back into you with a newfound vigour, with such force that it has you bend over the kitchen counter. 

“Like, ah, like this, huh? That how you want it, angel?”

You don’t answer—you’re not able to, as Satoru uses the entirety of his thick length to steal your ability to speak coherently. Once again, you’re acutely aware of the sheer size of your husband. Satoru is tall, and big, and he likely isn’t even aware of it. It certainly doesn’t seem so, as he heads no mind to the way your feet are starting to lift off the floor. Each deep thrust has you inching further up the counter; his hands on your hips nearly holding you up and off the floor as he rocks into you from behind. 

There’s little you can do, except take it. 

The kitchen is filled with sounds that definitely do not belong there. Your wetness is prominent, the sound of it borderline embarrassing, and Satoru’s balls slap against your skin with each thrust. He’s relentless, and you want to cry. The good kind of crying; the kind that often comes accompanied with mind-numbing pleasure. You hiccup, and sniff, and try your best to stabilise yourself against the counter. 

Though, your efforts prove futile once Satoru brings one of his hands to your front. You choke on a whimper as he cruelly pinches your clit, toying with it, flicking and rubbing it in the way he knows will get you off. 

“T—Toru,” you warn him. “I—I’m. . .”

“Mhm,” he hums in acknowledgement, not letting up even for a second. There’s a featherlight kiss pressed to your shoulder. “Me too, princess. S’okay, let, shit, let go for me, yeah?”

And because he’s Satoru—your Satoru, you comply. It hits you all at once, and you’re suddenly very grateful for both your husband holding you upright, and your expensive kitchen counter for adding some extra support. You’re still breathing heavily, coming down from your high, when Satoru hits his own. It’s a familiar feeling, but one you’ll never grow tired of nonetheless. 

You sigh in content. His cum fills you up rapidly, and to the brim. It’s hot, and thick, and trickles out of you even with him still inside—simply because there’s so much of it. The both of you are out of breath, and because of it, choose to stay within each other’s hold for just a little while longer. 

Satoru could—and would—stay in this position for the rest of his life. . .but he’s quite sure that you’ve put a lot of effort in today’s dinner and he doesn’t want it to be for naught. With a deep sigh and a quick kiss to your cheek, he goes against every fibre of his being, and pulls out of you. 

A shiver trails down your spine when he does so, and you let out a soft sigh in content. You’re still recovering, he notices. There’s a trail of his cum dripping out of you, though he wastes little time to push it back inside. Satoru takes matters into his own hands, and decides to place your panties back into place for you, too. It gets soiled by his seed rather quickly, but that’s a problem for later. 

After smoothing down your skirt, he tucks himself back into his pants, as well. He’s by your side as quick as he can, and presses a sweet, lingering kiss to your temple. 

It’s only then that he properly takes notice of all the stuff that’s been thrown around the kitchen. Pots, pans, vegetables, spices. It seems you really were busy.

And, as if he hadn’t just finished fucking you silly, he smiles. 

“So, what are you making?”

© MADE BY SANATOMIS — please, refrain from stealing, copying, or reposting any of my works.