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#hey I’ve got a real one!
designernishiki · 11 months
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it’s kinda funny to me how that dumb scene in kiwami 1 of majima getting shot and left for dead in the harbor was basically just added as a half-assed way to explain majima not being around for a bit of the plot, but they accidentally(?) just made it seem like start of a chain reaction where majima ended up feeling slighted and heartbroken after being abandoned like that and then lashed out about it via smashing a big truck into the building kiryu was in. and yeah that isn’t inherently a romantic thing as-is but then they go and add the part where majima grabs a hostess and performatively hits on her as in-kiryu’s-face as possible, she says she’s already in love with someone, and majima lets her go immediately, no questions asked, making a big fucking point of it just to say see THAT kiryu? I appreciate when people are HONEST about their FEELINGS. people who won’t just BACKSTAB someone who CARES about them to save themselves. is that so crazy kiryu?? huh??? anyway make it up to me get down here and fight me right fucking now
#I think on another level he was sorta saying like ‘hey kiryu. you’re making it extremely clear that you don’t trust me and my intentions#and I’ve been trying to show you- over and over again- that I’d do just about anything for you and your safety#but I can’t just let my mask fall off in front of everyone- I need to keep up the unpredictable morally grey wildcard act for both my sake#AND yours. because disguising my helping you as crazy random violent outbursts and weird stalker behavior#is the only way I CAN help you. do you think it would go over well with shimano or literally anyone else if I was outright helping you out#of the kindness of my heart and fondness for you? stop being so fucking dense and look past the crazy wacky nonsense for a second and#maybe you’ll realize that all I do at the end of the day- really- is help you and put my own life and reputation on the line for you.#I am an honest guy when it comes to my real values and when I told you I wouldn’t let anyone kill you unelss it was myself- I meant it.#I’ve taken a knife and a bullet for you now. can you REALLY not see through the act yet? am I REALLY that unpredictable when you think about#it?’#that was a longer explanation than i intended but. it was difficult to put into words#I basically feel like it could be read as him implying kiryu shouldn’t backstab the people who put themselves on the line to help him#and/or pointing out that he’s never actually done kiryu dirty and has stuck to his word protecting him in the ways he can#trying to say yeah all this is a crazy act and all but when it comes down to it you Can trust me#it really makes sense when you think about it that he’d have to help kiryu/show affection towards kiryu in unpredictable convoluted ways#at that point in time because. I mean. there’s a reason he was the only person who showed up to welcome kiryu when he got out of prison#and that’s because A) he sticks to his word and his loyalty to people he cares about and B) no one else had the balls or the batshit insane#mask to wear to ward off anyone asking real questions like majima did. because ANYONE associating themselves with the supposed#patriarch-killer was a HUGE NO-NO at the time. someone important showing up for kiryu and welcoming him back outright could’ve caused#all-out warfare probably. except majima. because majima was dedicated and smart enough to use his widely-feared wildcard persona#(that everyone tended to view as incapable of having any Real agenda to worry about) to his And kiryu’s advantage#does that make sense??? I feel like it makes a lot of sense if you get it to click in your head#kazumaji#majima#kiryu#yakuza#kiwami 1#yk1#rambling
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saphira-approves · 7 months
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…having a really weird moment right now because I never do soulmate AUs, and specifically for Inheritance Cycle I don’t think they work very well, but I’m suddenly. EXTREMELY tempted to do a Murtagh/Nasuada soulmate piece in the flavor of “you feel the pain of your soulmate’s injury”. Maybe with a little flair to make it more specific to IC but I haven’t decided yet what that would be.
Just. Listen. Hear me out.
On the one hand, say they don’t figure it out before Murtagh is captured. Ajihad does—he never tells Nasuada how he identifies Murtagh by his scar, remembering when she was small and screaming in pain from another child’s wound half a world away. When Murtagh gets his head injury in the battle under Farthen Dûr, Nasuada doesn’t see him until he loses the bandages, and neither of them comment on their own headaches. And then Murtagh is captured, and for months Nasuada is wracked with pain from nowhere; she begins to carry herself carefully, delicately, not out of fear for her own person but out of a desire to be kind to the soul entwined with hers. And then Nasuada is captured, and that’s when they figure it out—when Galbatorix gives Murtagh the burning iron and the order, and Murtagh feels the iron on his own skin.
On the other hand, say they do figure it out. And Murtagh disappears, and they think he’s dead, and Nasuada is aching but she’s sure, she’s so sure, that it is grief and soul-magic and the last wounds of a dying man clinging to her bones. But then the torture starts. And she realizes, too late, that they’ve made a horrible mistake.
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bradassholemajors · 5 months
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a tale of two farley(leigh)s
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soullessjack · 8 months
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I have a special amount of hatred for jack content where he’s kept as his canon-adult self but has all remnants of his actual personality bludgeoned out of him and is still infantilized to the point where he’s basically just portrayed as having the actual mental capacity of a child. “Jack can’t drink beer he orders apple juice and drinks sippy cups at bars,” “Don’t swear around Jack or he’ll repeat it,” “Jack can’t handle scary movies, he likes [insert silly non-scary media like animal crossing].” etc etc.
obviously I can’t speak for what the actual intent and appeal is, but it. honest to god just feels like a way for spn fans to keep infantilizing jack and get away with it bcit’s more covert than the usual de-aging/normal-baby aus and they think “look, he’s still an adult, we’re not infantilizing him!” is enough to avoid criticism. I don’t know how to tell you this, but if you are registering Jack as an adult and still going out of your way to give them literally infantile traits like sippy cups and not being allowed to say bad words and still fundamentally treating them as if they are a child, that is still infantilization and it is still horrendously ableist—whether the intention was there or not.
It’s not even a matter of ppl “personally seeing” Jack as a child, because he isn’t one regardless of personal opinion and it’s just stupid to insist on something that isn’t there. If you can watch this character basically become a military leader and flirt with a girl and do a whole slew of other things that a child cannot do and still “personally see” them as a child, then maybe you should reconsider why exactly you see them that way when the show very clearly does not, ask yourself if the “childlike” traits you think you’re picking up on aren’t just autistic traits and why you’re so uncomfortable with seeing this character as an adult.
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just-a-tiny-goldfish · 9 months
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Anyone else mourning their time now—as if it’s already passed—but it hasn’t. I’m here?
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kiwisandpearls · 27 days
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i feel like that homer simpson meme where he’s peaking outside the window when i saw the lego monkie kid fandom’s reactions to the season 5 trailer despite being kind of in the fandom myself lol
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theold-ultraviolence · 2 months
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Yesterday I saw a movie that I think it’s just become my favorite movie and i’m dying to scream about it
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badolmen · 1 year
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Supermassive games made something that was almost perfect and then decided to make several much worse things before reeling it back to something decent that makes the same damn mistake the first game made without any of the first game’s charm and cleverness to make up for it. Like you’ve had the time to figure out this professional video game thing maybe you should start acting like it lol
#ra speaks#personal#sorry I’ve been in an until dawn mood lately and it’s like. gosh they were so close to making a game I could unironically say was amazing#their major flaw was the appropriation of Native American culture (like they could have been generic cannibal monsters you didn’t have to#call them that to make them scary that monster design was on point)#and then. in the quarry. which I dare to say is a decent sequel to until dawn.#MAKES THE SAME DAMN MISTAKE OF STEREOTYPING OOOO SPOOKY ROMANI TAROT MAGIC#like bruh do you. do you even call up somebody from the demographics you’re representing#and be like hey is this fucked up or nah?#like you’re a professional studio that’s a real thing you can do#and I don’t like the new cut scenes in until dawn they were PART of the story not some separate entity from it#anyways rant abt the bad stuff over gosh until dawn had such a fantastic story. the reveal and the twist are unparalleled.#literally my only issue is the monster cultural aspect like that’s such a solid game and story#and I guess the treatment of josh as a character but tbh the story of it seems fairly logical#these people got my sisters killed. I’m going to scare the hell out of them as revenge. no one will get physically hurt.#like yeah I would do that too dude. especially if I had a family background in film and practical effects.#and tbf his friends react pretty realistically for kids not knowing how to handle their friend having#a legitimate mental health crisis that stems from undiagnosed and erroneously medicated psychosis/schizophrenia#in addition to being hunted by literal monsters#the quarry was fun and campy the way until dawn was but there was no iconic bait and switch and also an antagonist uses the g slur so like#sorry it’s objectively not as good of a story
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deus-ex-mona · 10 months
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“a sicks’ dream come true; coming soon to fanfic channels near you”
#presenting my cursed sleep-deprived brainworm of the day: nagisa gets sold to ft4 for uni fees#or well. more like they’re looking for a live-in assistant dude. thing. or sth. idk#and papa shiranami just sells his son off bc ‘hey it’s literal free real estate!!! plus he’s gonna get paid for the entire deal so why not?’#nagisa initially pitches a fit at his dad a la gamushara yelling scene bc ‘dad!!!!!! how could you just sell me off to some strangers?!!!!’#‘shhhh son; think of the free housing. in ✨t o k y o✨. stuff’s expensive there yk’ ‘but still!!!!!’#so nagi sulkily packs his bags and heads out; trying to motivate himself with thoughts of ‘hey at least i’ll get to see hiyori more often’#then he arrives at the train station and sees our favourite 5-man non-idol gang… and promptly passes out#when he comes to… poor guy finds himself right smack in the middle of a hugeass canopy bed#with dai sitting smugly by the side like ‘the great me carried you back mans. you’re welcome ;)’ with a tip of his cool fedora#and that’s when nagi realises that 1) it’s not a dream and that he actually has to live with his oshis now. and 2) damnnnn this bed is soft#cohabitation shenanigans happen. as they would seeing as the entire gang + rio’s niece live together in this oddly huge megu-owned penthouse#plus free bi-weekly vacations to megu’s family villa bc they can never spend a waking moment without each other#and nagi finds it strange that the group is oddly accomodating of his uni schedule when it concerns his job tasks and such…#or that they collab with lxl (hi hiyori!!!) way more than they should typically be…#but he brushes it off when rio asks him to cook with him or sth idk i mean how often do you get to cook with your oshi????#and idk eventually the jig is up and it’s revealed that hiyori was the one who was accidentally behind the whole thing#like a ‘sorry nagisa i told uchida that you’d be moving here too but lxl were there the entire time and they went and got ft4 to buy you’#or something kinda thing. idk. bc everything has to be lxl’s fault; even when they’re just lurking in the bg#i’m def gonna regret this later lmao. it’s almost 2.30 in the am; i have not written in months; and i’ve never read a sold to 1.d. fic ev er#this is the kind of cosmic horror that only sleep-deprived brains can cook up ig…….. oh wells#it is suiyoubi my dudes#the dude from gamushara
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causticfanatic · 6 months
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I’m shifting and rotting and watching and tearing, rending face from face a cacophony of identity and cruelty and eternity. I’m a monster and I’m not real. I am less than human, worse. I exist to hurt and to feed from pain and I have never felt bad about that fact. I am a leach never providing any use, any value and I am a beast hurting, breaking, scaring. i am the monster under the bed, the thing in the shadows, the tapping on the window, the creak in the attic. I am lies and rot and cruelty.
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nightly-ruse · 1 year
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The fact that ppl can remember things is just wow. Like give me some of your brain power I just need it for a bit
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fingertipsmp3 · 1 year
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Love that the second entry in my cry log for 2023 is going to be “experienced unexpected dentistry”
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bjurnberg · 6 months
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My work boots are the most expensive shoes I’ve ever owned.
Also the most comfortable. I chose them after trying on several different brands and comparing lifespan vs usage vs comfort - I needed them for a physically demanding job, not the weekend hiking trails. I could have easily chosen cheaper boots that would have lasted long enough to be worth their low price, but I know the Sam Vimes Boot Theory and knew weaker, less comfortable boots would make my life harder in the long run.
So when the outside edge of the heel started wearing down after three years of heavy use I went to the shop I got them from and said “hey this is a common problem for me with how I walk but now it’s affecting my ankles and knees and I don’t wanna have to buy a new pair, is there a way to fix this?”
The salesman at this very fancy upscale boot store said “oh yeah, there’s a shoe repair place that can give you some heel guards - it’ll keep the rubber from wearing out.”
So at 8am this morning right after my 9hr shift ends I went to the shoe repair shop and it is the most hole-in-the-wall, is-this-a-real-business-or-a-mafia-front, am-I-gonna-get-shot tiny cinder block cube I’ve ever seen in my life. I grew up plenty poor and love me a good hole-in-the-wall business, but going from upscale store to this cash-only repair shop gave me whiplash. Wasn’t expecting this when a guy who wears three piece suits to sell boots said it’s the best place to go.
The skinny kid behind the counter looks somehow 16 and 25 at the same time, but when I tell him this place was recommended he smiles and says to hand over my boots. I hand him the vaguely warm foot-smelling boots, and stand in my socks in the 3’ square entryway surrounded by every color leather polish you could buy and watch as he turns my boots around in his hands, sizes up a crescent moon bits of plastic, and unceremoniously hammers tiny nails through them before handing them back.
The heels are perfectly level again. I can walk without almost rolling my ankles. They don’t clack loudly on the pavement or feel different. This is gonna fix my knee pain. It cost $10.
This kid had every tool he needed within arms reach, worked fast and smoothly, I was in and out the door in less than 8 minutes, and it only cost $10.
I didn’t think anything could cost only $10 anymore. I’m so used to hyperinflation prices I was spiritually thrown back to the 1400’s visiting the cobbler in town square. This kid might have been that cobbler and just decided to never die.
I’m still reeling from the whiplash, and gobsmacked at the price, and thrilled I didn’t have to go buy new, worse work boots (cuz I don’t have that kind of money for a second pair, I’m expecting these ones to last a decade) and it feels like I just experienced one of the rare little chunks of magic that floats around our world.
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harmonizewithechoes · 8 months
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fuckyeahgoodomens · 3 months
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Terry Pratchett about fantasy ❤
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Terry Pratchett interview in The Onion, 1995 (x)
O: You’re quite a writer. You’ve a gift for language, you’re a deft hand at plotting, and your books seem to have an enormous amount of attention to detail put into them. You’re so good you could write anything. Why write fantasy?
Terry: I had a decent lunch, and I’m feeling quite amiable. That’s why you’re still alive. I think you’d have to explain to me why you’ve asked that question.
O: It’s a rather ghettoized genre.
Terry: This is true. I cannot speak for the US, where I merely sort of sell okay. But in the UK I think every book— I think I’ve done twenty in the series— since the fourth book, every one has been one the top ten national bestsellers, either as hardcover or paperback, and quite often as both. Twelve or thirteen have been number one. I’ve done six juveniles, all of those have nevertheless crossed over to the adult bestseller list. On one occasion I had the adult best seller, the paperback best-seller in a different title, and a third book on the juvenile bestseller list. Now tell me again that this is a ghettoized genre.
O: It’s certainly regarded as less than serious fiction.
Terry: (Sighs) Without a shadow of a doubt, the first fiction ever recounted was fantasy. Guys sitting around the campfire— Was it you who wrote the review? I thought I recognized it— Guys sitting around the campfire telling each other stories about the gods who made lightning, and stuff like that. They did not tell one another literary stories. They did not complain about difficulties of male menopause while being a junior lecturer on some midwestern college campus.
Fantasy is without a shadow of a doubt the ur-literature, the spring from which all other literature has flown. Up to a few hundred years ago no one would have disagreed with this, because most stories were, in some sense, fantasy. Back in the middle ages, people wouldn’t have thought twice about bringing in Death as a character who would have a role to play in the story. Echoes of this can be seen in Pilgrim’s Progress, for example, which hark back to a much earlier type of storytelling. The epic of Gilgamesh is one of the earliest works of literature, and by the standard we would apply now— a big muscular guys with swords and certain godlike connections— That’s fantasy. The national literature of Finland, the Kalevala. Beowulf in England. I cannot pronounce Bahaghvad-Gita but the Indian one, you know what I mean. The national literature, the one that underpins everything else, is by the standards that we apply now, a work of fantasy.
Now I don’t know what you’d consider the national literature of America, but if the words Moby Dick are inching their way towards this conversation, whatever else it was, it was also a work of fantasy. Fantasy is kind of a plasma in which other things can be carried. I don’t think this is a ghetto. This is, fantasy is, almost a sea in which other genres swim. Now it may be that there has developed in the last couple of hundred years a subset of fantasy which merely uses a different icongraphy, and that is, if you like, the serious literature, the Booker Prize contender. Fantasy can be serious literature. Fantasy has often been serious literature. You have to fairly dense to think that Gulliver’s Travels is only a story about a guy having a real fun time among big people and little people and horses and stuff like that. What the book was about was something else. Fantasy can carry quite a serious burden, and so can humor. So what you’re saying is, strip away the trolls and the dwarves and things and put everyone into modern dress, get them to agonize a bit, mention Virginia Woolf a few times, and there! Hey! I’ve got a serious novel. But you don’t actually have to do that.
(Pauses) That was a bloody good answer, though I say it myself.
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saetoru · 8 months
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✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ speak of the devil
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synopsis. satoru and his father don’t quite get along—you don’t think it would help that case if his father walked in on you fucking on his desk right now, but satoru doesn’t seem to care at all
FIVE PLACES RB! GOJO SHOULDN’T FUCK YOU SERIES
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length. 3.4k words (why did it take all day sobs)
contents. fem! reader, minors do not interact, college au, rich boy! gojo, as always it’s shameless satoru, you sit on satoru’s lap, brief fingering, dry humping, desk sex <3, clothed sex, unprotected sex, creampie, pet names (baby, sweetheart, princess, perfect girl)
notes. to everyone who kept asking when i was gonna update this series: here it is. now don’t ask again <3
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the one time you decide to surprise satoru with a visit is the one time he’s nowhere to be found—it takes you ten minutes and the help of two maids to finally find satoru in his house. as it turns out, he’s in his father’s office—the only room you’ve never been in yet.
“hey,” you murmur, “been looking for you everywhere. way to ruin my surprise.”
“baby!” he grins, perking up from his spot at the chair, setting the pen in his hand down. “you came all the way here to surprise me? you must love me so much. and think i’m hot too, right? and funny? and smart? and—”
“i’m leaving,” you tease, rolling your eyes. and then you notice the papers in front of him, peeking over his shoulder as you read over them. you understand nothing. “what’s this?”
“paperwork,” he grumbles, “old man says i have to start being more responsible for stuff if i’m gonna take over someday. what a geezer.”
you snort—satoru never runs out of insults for his father. normally, you wouldn’t encourage his comments, but….well, his father deserves them. quite a bit, in fact.
“my poor businessman,” you say sympathetically, smoothing back hair from his forehead as you cup his face. he pouts, leaning into your touch as you rub over the swell of his cheek with your thumb. “you deserve a break.”
“i know,” he whines, “i’ve been doing these for like an hour. i could’ve been playing video games with suguru. or fucking you.”
“satoru!” you gasp, pressing a hand over his lips as you eye the door and listen for any signs of anyone nearby. you turn to him and hiss, “you have too many people wandering your house for you to say that so loud.”
“not like they’ve never heard us before,” he shrugs.
well, that’s satoru for you—as shameless as ever. not only has he probably traumatized the poor maids with his insatiable horniness, but he’s not even got the tact to at least seem embarrassed. not even slightly ashamed. you scoff, shaking your head as he grins up at you cheekily.
“you’re a real case, you know that?” you say in disbelief, “i think the only surface you haven’t fucked me on is your parent’s bed. and that’s only because you love your mom enough not to do that.”
“if it was just the old man’s, i’d have fucked you on that too,” he snickers. and then he hums thoughtfully, “actually, i think i have fucked you everywhere. it’s like a bucket list.”
“satoru, you’re sick in the head.”
“the showers, the guest rooms, the kitchen, the living room, the movie room, my room, of course—oh, the game room too. and we can’t forget the backyard and the pool either. i think we got it all—wait.”
he sounds serious. you look at him with furrowed brows as you tilt your head. “what?”
“we didn’t get this room.”
oh god. he’s absolutely ridiculous—and not only that but a complete idiot, too. not only do satoru and his father not get along, but his father couldn’t disapprove of you any more than he already does. the last thing you both need is for him to walk in on his son fucking the girl he probably wants to hire a hitman to assassinate.
“oh my god,” you say exasperatedly, “toru, have you not one ounce of shame? you can’t possibly think—”
“why didn’t i think of this sooner?” he wonders out loud—and oh no. satoru has that look in his eyes, the one that’s locked in on something he wants. the spoiled side of him isn’t going to let this go. the weak part of you is probably going to have a hard time fighting him.
the unwise part of both of you will probably get you both into a whole lot of trouble.
“because it’s a bad idea. you’re a smart guy, toru,” you try to butter him up—it doesn’t seem to do much, though. “the smartest. so, so genius and intelligent, so you know this is a terrible idea, so let’s just drop it—”
“i should’ve done this way sooner,” he chuckles, looking at you in awe, “bend you right over this desk and fuck you over that fossil’s papers.”
his words are so shameless and so, so wrong. but for some odd reason, your clit aches a little at that.
“no, absolutely not—”
“can you imagine? he’s signing papers right where i had you drooling for me? he’d be so mad if he knew,” satoru cackles.
god—this should not be as appealing as it sounds. you try to throw on your best stern look, but satoru is as smart as he is sly. he can see the way you shift on your feet as he smirks up at you, and he’s already got that determined look in his eye that you know well enough.
it’s the same look he has when he decides he’s hungry—for you, that is. the same look that paints his face as he eyes you like you’re his next meal. the same look that tells you he wants you—and he’ll stop at nothing to have you.
and….well, you’ve never been good at saying no to satoru. it’s your fatal flaw.
“satoru, we should definitely not be doing any of that in here, and we definitely should not be risking making your dad—who hates that we’re dating, by the way—any more angry with us than he already is—”
“sweetheart,” he chuckles, pulling you by the wrist to fall onto his lap, “you worry too much, y’know that? i should fix that. fuck you dumb over this desk so you don’t overthink in that pretty little head you have.”
you glare at him, but he’s already got you straddling his hips, arms looped around your waist as he kisses your jaw with a hum. he’s already hard from what you can feel—the bulge pressing against your heat is hard to miss. 
“satoru—”
“save the part where you say my name for later. i haven’t even done anything yet,” he winks—and then he’s kissing you. he’s clever, you think, because kissing you is the fastest way to get you to melt against him, arms wrapping around his neck as he pulls you closer. 
so close, in fact, that you can feel his cock practically twitch in his pants as you shift on top of him, dragging your clothed cunt over his aching bulge.
“this is such a bad idea, toru,” you whisper in between kisses—but not one part of you fights his touch or even attempts to pull away. he hums, pressing wet kisses along your jaw as his hands dig into your hips, moving you to grind along his hardened length. 
“yeah? you sure? let’s check, shall we?” he raises a brow, hand slipping past the waistband of your pants and brushing past your folds—wet. dripping and messy and needy, just how your pussy always seems to be when you’re with him. he grins in satisfaction and throws you that knowing look as he mumbles, “sorry, baby. this pretty little pussy of yours disagrees.”
“toru,” you gasp as he toys with your clit, rubbing slow enough circles that you whine and roll your hips, trying to get more. but satoru is a brat—always has been, right from the day he was born. he pulls his fingers away and looks at you smugly as he kisses your curled lips while you frown at him.
“want more, don’t ya?” he asks—he’s too cocky for his own good sometimes. too ridiculous and annoying and troublesome, but you’re aching to feel something, anything. preferably him, so you nod. 
“just hurry up,” you huff. your hips push against him, dragging your cunt over his cock—it’s throbbing in his pants, confined under the fabric and needy for the tightness of your walls. you gasp when he rubs against your clit, and he groans, guiding your movements with a tight grip on your hips. 
“fuck, sweetheart,” he rasps, “c-could cum jus’ like this. see what you do to me?”
“‘s not me,” you tilt your head as he nips at your neck, hand trailing to cup the back of his head and keep him in place as he nibbles at the skin and pecks along the marks he leaves, “this is all your fault.”
“all my fault, huh?” he chuckles, “you make it sound like this is a bad thing.”
his hips buck up, rolling against yours and building the friction up until your both panting messes, his lips against yours as you drink in each other’s moans—your clit rubs along his length with every stutter of your hips, and his tip leaks with more pre cum every time you press harder against his cock. it’s desperate—the way he chokes on your name and the way you cling around his neck. it feels good, and the way this is all so wrong only makes it feel better. 
“‘m close, toru,” you mewl, whining as his hand slides under your shirt to massage your tit, his eyes trained on you as he hums.
“good,” he grins, eyes dark and glinting with a sick satisfaction you don’t think you’ve ever seen on him before, “cum for me, sweetheart. right here—right on this chair,” he says lowly. 
so you do—head falling back with a sharp gasp and your nails digging into his shoulder as you come undone with a loud whine. the gojo estate is big—very big. you’re sure your voice isn’t carrying through even a fraction of the place, but still, you can’t help but clamp a hand over your mouth in case anyone is nearby. 
satoru doesn’t like that, though—his hand rips yours off as he ruts his hips upwards faster, harder, pressing against you closer. “no, baby,” he chuckles, cutting himself off with a breathy moan when you press harder against his cock, “make sure you let me hear how good you feel. feels good, huh?”
“yes,” you whimper, “yes, feels so good—need more, toru. please,” you pout, looking up at him with lust-blown eyes. 
“here?” he mocks, raising a brow, “you want me to fuck you right here? in my father’s office? where he does his work? right on his desk?”
“yes, here,” you sob, “right here—please. want you so bad. need it.”
“see?” he laughs, “now you’re getting it—not so much of a bad idea, is it?”
that’s the thing about satoru—he’s too used to hearing what he wants. being told what he likes to hear. getting what he asks for. you say no, and he’s determined to change it to a yes. but yes is never enough—it’s more. always more, more, more. it’s like all rich people, you suppose. 
they just always want more.
there’s a small, reasonable voice in your head that tells you this is a bad idea. a disrespectful one, even. sure, satoru’s father has never been kind to you, let alone polite. he looks at you like you’re an eyesore, and he’s certainly said less than appropriate things about your upbringing. but that doesn’t mean you have to stoop to his level of low and do something equally as spiteful, if not more…but you’re only human. and satoru always just fucks you so well, and cumming around nothing just isn’t enough, and…well, you think it’s just karma. 
the way the world works. 
the way you and satoru work. 
so you grin, huff out a little snort before pulling him into a kiss and reaching to free his hard, leaky cock from its confinements. he whines a little into your mouth as you smear the arousal coating his tip along his length, stroking down and squeezing at the base. 
“okay,” you whisper against his lips, “fuck me toru. right here—right on his desk.”
that, evidently, is all it takes—one second you’re comfortably sitting on his legs, pants soaked with his bulge pressed against your core, and the next second you hear his hand swipe papers off the surface to fall to the floor as your back is pressed against the cool wood. he doesn’t even bother with your clothes, just tugs both of your pants down your thighs that it’s enough. satoru has always been impatient too—doesn’t like to wait for anything when he can take it when he wants. 
you can feel him close, hovering over you. he’s warm—where his cock presses against your thigh, where his breath fans over your lips, where his hands grab your wrists and pin them over your head. he’s warm, and your head spins, and you need him filling you to the brim right now.
“anything you want, you get, sweetheart,” he murmurs, grinning sickeningly sweet, “can’t say no to my baby. what kind of boyfriend would i be?” you feel him bump his tip against your clit, making you gasp before he drags the head of his cock along your folds—they’re wet and slick from your arousal, coating his tip before he’s slowly pushing in. you gasp, wrapping your arms around his neck as he groans lowly. “can never get used to this,” he breathes, “never get used to this pussy. just takes me so well. fit in like i was made just to fuck you.”
“toru, t-toru—oh,” you squeal when he slides the rest of his length to fill you, buried to the hilt as your walls flutter around him. it’s nothing new, but it’s never something you’re prepared for all the same. how thick he is, how perfectly he hits that spot in the back of your walls, how full he makes you feel. it makes your legs wrap around his waist and pull him forward, closer, deeper. “more, toru—move, please.”
“nuh uh,” he drawls, kissing your cheeks, “first you gotta tell me how much you love me.”
“satoru,” you hiss in disbelief, “are you kidding—”
“c’mon, say it,” he giggles, “love you, toru. love how you fuck me so good everywhere in your house and make me feel like a princess. you’re the best boyfriend ever and i’ll die without your cock—”
“i love you toru,” you smile sweetly, “you know what i love more, though? when you’re too busy making pretty sounds for me instead of talking so much.”
that makes him shudder—makes him curse under his breath as your walls flutter impatiently around him. he’s aching—hot and swollen in your dripping cunt, balls heavy with cum that he needs to empty into your pussy because it was made to take him. every inch of him.
“you’re gonna be the death of me,” he breathes out shakily, “know that? gonna kill me one of these days.”
“good,” you hum before rolling your hips and making his breath hitch, “now move, baby. wanna feel you.” 
he does—pulls his hips back so that he’s just almost pulled out completely before he slams back into you, pressing against your sweet spot with his tip in the way only satoru knows how. only he knows you this well, only he knows your body so well. he knows where to kiss and hold and touch to make your eyes flutter shut, and your mouth fall open, wanton moans falling past your lips without a care in the world who can hear. 
“so tight, baby,” he whines, “god you’re so perfect—my perfect girl.”
“so full,” you gasp, clawing at his shoulders, pulling at his hair, pulling him closer and closer and closer until not even air can fill the space between you. “feel so good, toru—fuck.”
“look at you,” he coos, pressing a kiss to your collarbone, “‘s a shame you can’t see what i see. then you’d know why i can’t keep my hands off’a you—’s impossible.”
you can’t speak—all you can offer him as he’s bullying his thick girth into you is a pathetic whine as his veins drag along your walls, as his navel bumps along your clit and has your head thrown back against the table. there’s slick smeared along your inner thigh, the wet sound of his cock fucking into you ringing in your ears along with his deep groans as he pants harshly against your ear. you can feel his breath against your skin, can feel the goosebumps and the flutter of your walls every time he makes a pretty little sound for you as you squeeze around him. 
“love you, toru,” you mewl—you can’t help but say it, can’t help but remind him when he pushes into you like he was always meant to fit right there, like he was always meant to feel you as you feel him too. and if his rotten, greedy, stuck-up father with a receding hairline can’t see that you love satoru, maybe you’ll just have to fuck him right where he can find you just to drill the image into his mind. 
“love you too,” he says between moans, face digging into your neck as your hand cradles the back of his head, keeping him right there, keeping him close against you like he should never be anywhere else, “love my perfect, perfect girl. feel me? feel what you do to me?”
you nod between sharp gasps and soft cries of his name—he looks down at you in wonder, at the way your lips look when they murmur that sweet little cry of toru!, at the way your pussy sucks him in and hugs too tightly around him, at the way you look so good with the slight sheen of sweat on your face. 
his hips roll, a little sloppy in rhythm now, but still just as hard and deep as before. he can sense it—the way you’re just about to fall apart on his cock, just like you always do. so he presses a thumb to your clit, rubbing harsh circles that make you cling to him tighter as you cry out another sweet string of toru, toru—more!
“you close, sweetheart? gonna cum for me? ‘m close—gonna fill you up. want that, don’t you?”
“yeah,” you breathe, kissing him with hot, open-mouthed kisses that he returns, “yeah i wan’ you to fill me up, toru—gonna cum. ‘m so close—f-fuck, so close, baby.”
you know he is too, the way his cock twitches and the way his hips are desperate in the way they roll into you tells you he’s just as close to falling apart as you are. you push your hips up to meet his thrusts, pushing him impossibly deeper into your cunt before you feel the coil snap as you cum—hard. your walls flutter around him, spasming and squeezing around him that his bottom lip is tugged between his teeth as he inhales sharply.
“f-fuck, baby—’m gonna…” he doesn’t get to finish before you feel his cock twitch and the first drop of cum fills you. it’s hot and thick, every rope he fucks into you, leaking past his tip and painting your walls white. you can feel the mess he makes—can feel the drops leak and smear along your inner thighs as he slams into you with choked whines of your name. “g-good—’s so good, you feel so good,” he says breathlessly, face digging deeper into the crook of your neck as his arms tremble over you.
the wood is hard against you, makes your back ache slightly—but it’s not nearly as bad as satoru is good. you can’t think of anything else but the way he fucks you both through your highs until your legs are begging to press shut from the oversensitivity. 
it’s silent for a bit once you’ve finished—save for the harsh, labored panting as you both calm down and catch your breaths. satoru is still buried with his nose pressed against your neck, your hand rubbing over his back slowly.
“your maids must hate us,” you mumble, “and if your mother hears? we can never show her our faces again.”
“she’s probably dead to the world and watching her reality shows,” he snorts, “we’ll be fine.”
“well, we should clean up and leave before your dad—”
“oh look, speak of the devil. he’s just in time,” satoru snickers as he cuts you off, looking over at the window as an expensive car drives up to the house, “think we can get these papers organized before he comes up here? maybe we should just leave ‘em to make him mad.”
“you’re crazy,” you say in disbelief. and then— “i think we should leave them there. make them his problem.”
you think you’ve just watched satoru fall in love with you all over again at that.
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i hate this fic but hopefully i come back one week later and reread it and think wow i ate w this. sometimes i do that. but if i don’t: if all of you donate one dollar to my family they can afford my funeral for when i drink bleach
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