#s: prim

[vacantgodling]

on love and jealousy

wip: prim & provocative

character(s): narcissus spokes (she/her), myrtus spokes (he/him); mentions of tagetes gunn, iberis gunn, matricaria gunn, and lavendula calderon

finally decided to write something for narci because i wanted to figure her out more soooo have her and myrtie talking about their separation

tw(s): mentions of cheating and transphobia (not by either character but myrtus’s family has very rigid ideals of what a woman is that neither of them agree with)

“That’s not fair Myrtie!” Narcissus clutched the phone against her ear, sniffing grandly. She glanced up from where she was curled into herself at the side of her bed, at the large purple mirror hung on the wall. When she’d moved in, she asked her brother in law if he would put a bigger one in, to make the room feel more like her own; but staring back at her pitiful state like this was a torture all of its own. “That’s not fair of you to say that you never loved me. Every time you kissed my head, or bought me nice things because they made me happy, or called me pretty right to my very face was a lie then?”

“I never said I didn’t love you.” Despite wanting to stay angry, the even timbre of her separated husband’s voice over the line did wonders to calm her nerves. Maybe that’s why she was clinging to the phone so desperately; so desperate to hold onto any bit of him and the calm confidence he swept away with him when he left. It hurt her heart, yet it healed it. She was all befuddled.

“I did say that I don’t love you the way a husband ought to.”

“In what way do you love me then!” She cried. She kicked her feet, not that he could see it, and dislodged one slipper from her foot. It flew out and hid under the bed.

“As a sister.” Myrtus said gently. “As a friend.”

“Then what does Ris have that I don’t?” She cried. “Since clearly you love him more than just a ‘brother’ or a friend!”

You’re acting like a baby. The cruel voice in her head whispered. He has every right to leave someone as inconsolable and childish as you.

“I—“ Myrtus hesitated over the line, perhaps not wanting to insinuate her worst fears. But that was the problem with Narcissus, wasn’t it? She latched onto that hesitation like a falcon digs its claws into an unsuspecting rodent. “He does have something! I knew it! You can just say you never loved me—you’ve already gone and left me.” She spat. “I’m not sure why you’re trying to spare my feelings anymore, if I never mattered to you anyway.”

“Narci, that’s not it at all.” And despite how much she pushed him, Myrtus’s voice never wavered, never sounded cross or rose, and maybe that’s why she was staring back at herself in her silly wall length mirror so distraught. He was the one person who never seemed to become cross with her and yet somehow she even drove him away! It didn’t matter that he cheated; she could deal with that hurt to her pride as long as he stayed. It had been like a dream come true when Tagetes first told her that they’d arranged a marriage for her with the handsome Myrtus Spokes. A family friend for years and a man she remembered seeing around the family manor growing up. He and Iberis had gone to school together, and Narci never thought much of him, until that fateful day. And he’d smiled at her kindly and took her hand and said she’d be a beautiful wife and she wanted to sob all over again. She’d already wailed all the way here a few weeks ago, throwing herself into Tagetes’s side. And here she was, ready to wail again.

“Then what is it!” She demanded. “What is it about me that isn’t to your liking? Is it—is it my hair?”

“Your hair is lovely, Narci.”

“It’s not! Don’t lie to me!” She snapped. “It’s stringy and thin and, and, oh never mind that! Is it the way I dress? How I talk to people— oh I know I’m so chatty—“

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Narci.” His voice stayed even but even over the phone she could tell it was sharp. “And I’m sorry that this mess ever made you think that. You’re perfect.”

“But not for you!” Narcissus cried, and that was the crux of it. The line went silent for a long moment, the only sound being her helpless sniffs and heaves of cries that shook her body like a polaroid.

“No,” He finally said softly. “Not for me, not in that way.”

“But why!” She cried and she’d never cried so hard in her life. “Why?”

Myrtus let out a long sigh. “I didn’t want to tell you this, because I didn’t want to hurt you more.” If he were there, Narcissus knew he would run a hand rapidly through his hair, as he always did when he was particularly peevish about something. He still didn’t sound cross, just… uncomfortable perhaps. “But your brother and I have been in love for longer than you think.”

Narcissus could’ve guessed that. But she still bit. “Since when?” She asked miserably.

“Since we were boys, really.” Myrtus’s voice got quieter. “We began seeing each other when we went away to university.”

That she didn’t guess. She couldn’t have. She thought hard about the times that Iberis came home for breaks, and he never seemed particularly affected. Not around her, Tagetes (though, Getes probably knew, of course they did, they knew everything) or even their father, when he was still alive. They still seemed just as close but friendly as they always had. Nothing seemed amiss. Were there times they snuck away? Times where the soft lips Myrtus only deigned to grace her hand with pressed hard into Iberis’s neck or chest? Times where they went to town together and held hands like giddy young lovers that she never saw?

“Then… why…” Narcissus asked faintly.

Myrtus sighed over the phone line again.

“You know my parents.” Narcissus knew them but she never paid attention to them because Myrtus didn’t like them so why should she? His mother was a stuck up old cow, no different than her stepmother, and his father always regarded her with the same contempt you would show a mule. She could play friendly with them, never as well as Lavendula or Matricaria, but she could be tolerable. Yet, Myrtus never brought her around them much anyway. “They truly believe that traditionalist nonsense and wouldn’t accept me taking over the business if I didn’t marry a woman with the “correct parts.”

“Those being?”

“A cat*, of course.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Narcissus said immediately and in disgust. “You’ve been managing their assets since we were practically children! And they’re worried about the bits and bobs of who you want to be with?”

“I know.” Myrtus said and he sounded so bitter. He sounded bitter and angry and it began to dawn on her: in finally pursuing who he loved, he’d lost. He lost it all. Decades of work; of blood, sweat and tears to keep his family’s empire afloat. All washed down the drain like summer rain. If his parents were like that, then marrying her was the easy choice, the correct choice to them. Is that why Tagetes helped arrange it? Not because they wanted what was best for her… but out of pity for him?

Where did her feelings fall in all of this?

“I…” Narcissus suddenly felt so small. Felt so minuscule in the grand scheme of things. Just an afterthought, as she always had been, and Myrtus hummed soothingly over the line.

“I’m sorry Narci.” He said and he at least sounded horribly sad. “I should not have been cruel to you and hurt you like this. There’s nothing wrong with you, and there never was. I dragged you into my problems and you’re the only one suffering for them. There is no apology deep enough that I can give.” He sighed again. “Even still, it would’ve only fallen apart with time.” He said it, almost mumbled to himself, but Narcissus heard it.

“Fall apart?”

“My parents wanted grandchildren, and heirs. And, even if you and I had that kind of relationship Narci, I have no intention of having children.”

She didn’t say it but Narcissus felt much the same. She couldn’t bear to have another thing that she should be measured against Lavendula’s standard with.

The silence lingered until the phone line felt like nothing but a static buzz in her ear. Myrtus made no attempt to push the conversation further, just gave her time to digest everything she just heard. She was sat in her nightgown squarely in the middle of her bed. Her reflection gazed back at her. Same red rimmed eyes and brittle bottom lashes, saturated with tears. Her long, blonde hair hung straight down to her lap and pooled on the space there, spilling out like an unruly tidal wave onto the sheets. She looked so…

“Do you really love me?” She couldn’t help but ask. It’s not that it mattered anymore, truly, but—

“Yes, Narci.” Myrtus said, hushed. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t be the man you deserved.”

No. She wanted to say back.

I wish I could’ve been.

—

*cat is slang for vagina or pussy, in case that wasn’t obvious.

[starkittnd93]

OH YEAH so I started playing ot1 yesterday

So uh expect a doodle dump soon bc these guys already moved into my brain and I don’t think they plan on paying any rent either

[buggiebite]

I want a fanfic where Mr. Everdeen escaped to District 13 and watched shit unfold.

[ecstasydemon]

i just saw the worst take about melinoe that mischaracterized her completely and it pissed me off so bad . exploding that person in my mind

[aquaticcryptid]

Some doodles from old draw boards.

[bitegore]

am i the only one who thinks that signifiers could also make better-than-passable fursonas

[bellarkeandclintashaandsuch]

Just my personal opinions. I know Pim and Prim are supposed to be one of the side couples, but I’m not really feeling it. Like why did they give Pim a boyfriend? Can they possibly have enough screen time to resolve her breaking up with him to be with Prim in a satisfactory way? We haven’t even met him. Unless he’s the same one she took when Yo signed Lin up for the dating app. And I’m not even sure the camera showed his face? Unless this is some long game thing and he’ll factor into the plot later? Otherwise, he’s just there to provide a car for Pim? All I think when Pim talks to Prim is, are you still dating Boyfriend? And Pim’s character is just too much of a caricature when she’s around Prim. Like dial is back a notch.

I also feel like when you’re not the main, it’s hard to develop a character from being so dismissive and condescending, the way Prim was at first, to being a genuine love interest. Not that it’s impossible. But hard for me to connect to maybe?

Pim and Yo are A Lot. And they should just stick to gossiping loudly together. I do think it’s funny that Pim fawns over every beautiful person she sees. But it just makes me wish she were aroace and platonically in love with all these people’s aesthetics.

[winnythanawin]

-- winny's ig post 12.10.2023

[pocketmouse-fr]

Hello FR-blr, May I interest you all in.... some Lads?

First boy is Brutus, bought from the Wind Auction house and I love him so much,,,, I was so afraid someone else was going to buy him before I could day 1 for lairlocked reasons, but I got him in the end!! And he's,, so pretty. I've never really had a guy I liked with sailfish before but ough... then the veil matched and OUGH. obssessed with him.

Second boy doesn't have a name yet! I held onto my second duskhide egg (sold the dragon from the first one) till today for heehoo funny number reasons and also bc I was having a kinda bad morning anyways.. Came out real cute!! :3

Third boy is Deimos!! he was just a really pretty day 1 find. Not to much to say unfortunately outside of I like him :3

[teamxdark]

*sighs* I love all the Shatterspace Rouges.

[w1redsmile]

    (   ♡   )   ―      𝓭𝔂𝓷𝓪𝓶𝓲𝓬𝓼   𝓽𝓪𝓰   𝓭𝓾𝓶𝓹   :   ft.   @lovefell   ,   @daevilhorns   ,   @feralsmile   ,   @l1terae   ,   &   @cheernerds

[vacantgodling]

@multi-lefaiye narciiiiiiii 👉🏾👈🏾

the blonde hair is her usual get up but it’s very processed, very dyed, a lot of extensions and treatments. the black is her natural hair which is much thinner and pretty bone straight.

[teresabeadle5]

Gonna do a little bit of light reading tonight. What are you gonna do? by Skye McLeod Fairywren, Blogger Via Flickr: Bento Mesh Head: LeLutka Prim EVO-X Bento Mesh Body: Maitreya Lara BOM Face: Fay by VELOUR (grey alien) Body: Ipanema (slim-grey alien) by VELOUR Body Tatt: The Shire by MooLoo Hair: Dana by DOUX Ensemble: Frog Princess by irriSIStible (on the MP) Starfire Angel Wings: {aii&ego} Esma Eyes Applier: .euphoric Lorelynn Crown: Bliensen + MaiTai Clare Ballet Slipper: Tantrum Tara Bento Nails: A U R U S Glamour Glitter-Stardust: Cole's Corner HD Lips: Stunner Originals Blooming Blush: CAZIMI Zenith Eyeshadow Crease: CAZIMI Holo Glitter Eyeshadow: Izzie's Ear Blushing (Hue 2): Venge Squirrel Animesh (Companion): [Rezz Room] Storyteller's Burrow - Stairway to Knowledge: 8f8 SIM: Storybook, Lost Unicorn @ maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Lost%20Unicorn%20Gallery/2...

[ttsukiimi]

───〃★ WE F⍣CK OFF & ON, OFF & ON .ᐟ

〃★ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ⎯ As the campus’s well known f⍣ckboy, Satoru Gojo wasn’t known to stick around for more than one night in one bed. Well, that unspoken rule just didn’t apply when the bed was yours.

〃★ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 ⎯ gojo x fem!reader, uni au, smut (mdni), protected s⍣x, f⍣ckboy!gojo, hair pulling, p⍣ssywhipped!gojo, mentions of alc⍣hol & bein’ drunk, dirty talk, slight dumbification.

〃★ 𝐚/𝐧 ⎯ Thank you so freaking much for 1.5K!!! 🥹

Absolutely unbearable.

If there was any way to describe the campus fuckboy, it’d be that.

He was known—infamous for his unique way of fucking women and somehow leaving them attached, yearning for him once more after just one night, while he only left unscathed with his balls empty.

Satoru Gojo was insatiable. And you hated him.

You failed to see what everyone saw in him—he was a total idiot for fucks sake! Granted, he had a pretty face and could be quite charming, and you really couldn’t say for yourself if he was that good in bed, but good things about him paled in comparison to his horrid personality. He knew how attractive he was, and used that any chance he got.

How did he manage to talk his way into and out of anything? You simply didn’t know. But you hated him.

That was…until you yourself finally had a taste of Satoru Gojo.

Drunk at a party and so utterly wasted, you’d failed to acknowledge who was hitting on you, who you got into the taxi with to drive back to who knows where. His hands all over you—so rough yet inviting, even after the alcohol in your system had gone you still found yourself pulled into a trance.

A trance that seemingly pushed you to his bed and under him. Seemingly had you moaning his name all night and for more to come.

And seemingly, now, opening the door to your apartment so he could come in. So he could come in and fuck you like he’s been doing for the past months. Well, that’s just what he thought would happen anyway.

“Satoru,” you huffed, watching as the tall freak plopped himself onto your couch, momentarily jerking his head back before he responded with a hum.

“Can you stop acting like a fool and try not to break anything for once?” You chastised, pointing to a hand of his already playing with the flowers in your prized vase—he hadn’t given you those and had no right to taint them.

The white haired man groaned, rolling his eyes and following you down the narrow hallway to your bedroom. Your steps halted at the doorway and so did his, a low snicker leaving his lips as his hands slid to your waist.

“So,” he sighed in your ear, brushing his soft lips past the skin of your neck, big hands squeezing the flesh of your ass as he snaked them down. “Y’just gonna keep on being grumpy or you gonna let me fuck?”

“Satoru,” you exasperated for what seemed like the umpteenth time, though you didn’t dare take his hands off your body, already surrendering to the feeling. “Just because we’ve been fucking doesn’t mean that I only invite you here because of that.”

You turned around to face him. “We have a project to do, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah. We’ll start after I start.”

And what was Satoru’s definition of that?

It was pushing your head further down into your pillows as he absolutely ravished your cunt, simultaneously holding both your hands back with just one of his.

His thrusts were deep and calculated—to the point where it felt like he knew where every pleasurable spot inside you was. Perhaps he did.

“Dick’s got you all quiet now, hm?” he smirks, sliding his free hand up your back and to your head, pulling your hair back as he speaks. By then you were a drooling mess and as much as you’d hate to admit it—you’re practically dumb on his cock, moaning incoherent little babbles of his name and how big he feels.

Satoru grins behind you, smug because he’s got you, the most prim and proper girl on campus choking on her own saliva. It all felt so surreal, you felt surreal—your soft hips, the succulent ripple of your ass as his hips connected to it, your moans—fuck everything you did was driving him crazy. Even though it was supposed to be the other way around.

He was the one who was supposed to be ingrained in your brain—but here he was, inches deep inside your wet, reeling pussy after he swore the last time he was in your apartment would be the last.

But there’s always a reoccurring cycle with you. He just can’t stop.

“Hah—mph—slow down, S’toru!” you mewl, fat tears swelling in your waterline, your ears perking up at the rhythmic plap! plap! plap! of your sweaty bodies colliding. “If ‘m too loud my neighbors might hear,”

“Yeah? Let them hear how good I’m makin’ you feel then,” he breathes, shallow and unsteady, his toned chest moving in tandem with his inhales. The deep tremble of his voice seems to move throughout your body, vibrating through you in such a maddening way that you’re almost cumming from the feeling alone.

What was even more provoking was the way he pulsed against your gummy walls, thumping and pulsing inside you loud enough that it seemed you could hear it.

And—god was Satoru close, so close he could feel the static of his high zap though his fingers. He groaned, head thrown back in bliss as he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he did so deliciously.

Your head was spinning from the mind-dizzying pleasure, eyes rolling back in what Satoru can only admit is the most remarkable expression he’s gotten out of anyone he’s fucked.

His hair was sticking to his forehead now, sweaty from how fast he was working to thrust into you at his abnormal pace. “Can I—“

“No.”

A defeated sigh and a pained grunt as he pulled out just as he was about to teeter off the edge of pleasure, taking himself in his hands and finishing the job. Satoru jerked himself as he watched you shake and convulse in euphoria, your body unwinding as you let your limbs go limp.

Cum seeped from your pussy, dripping down to your clit and sheets—and that sight was all he needed before his hot seed was spurting all over your back, the sensation causing a broken cry to leave your lips.

“Fuck,” Satoru mouthed, breathing hard as he gave your ass little smacks of approval. “That was—shit—so good.”

You nodded, head turning to the side as you watched him take off his cum-filled condom, and dump it in the trash. Satoru plopped back on your bed once he was done.

A smirk graced his lips and you rolled your eyes in annoyance, knowing nothing good could come out of that look.

“When do you think we could do it raw, hm?”

“When you get tested for every type of STD.”

[deconstructthesoup]

One thing I absolutely adore about Dead Boy Detectives is the immaculate costume design. Specifically, how it perfectly encapsulates who the characters are, both as a whole and who they are in the moment.

From the very first scene of the show, we know immediately that Edwin is a bookish, somewhat stuffy guy from the Edwardian era who attended a boarding school, and Charles is a punk from the 1980's who's most likely the wildcard between the two of them, just going off of the way that they're dressed. Both of them have distinct color schemes and different styles, but the general shape of their outfits is actually relatively similar---both of them have collared shirts (Edwin's dress shirt, Charles's polo), something over those shirts (Edwin's vest, Charles's suspenders), a jacket of some kind (Edwin's suit jacket, Charles's flannel thing), a longer overcoat (Edwin's traveling coat, Charles's peacoat), something around the neck (Edwin's bowtie, Charles's necklace), slacks, and nice shoes. They're distinct, yet matching, two clearly defined separate characters yet part of a set.

Edwin's prim, proper, buttoned-up personality lends itself to the way he dresses throughout the season---in the first episode, he only dresses down when he's in the office with Charles, aka his safe place and his safe person, and he doesn't really dress down like that again for a good long while after getting stuck in Port Townsend (though, if my memory serves me correctly, he does take off the suit jacket while watching TV with Niko). But in episode six, he's changed up his usual look for a cozier, casual-looking sweater and a little bit of collarbone, and in episode seven... well, he's in his nightclothes, and he's about as open, raw, and vulnerable as you can get. Edwin's color scheme is also predominately blue, which lines up nicely with his logical and practical, yet deeply sad and closed off personality, and the only time he really wears anything other than his normal blue-and-brown outfit (willingly, that is) is when he's in that green sweater in episode six. And, uh... all I can say is that it's quite telling how blue and green---or, well, teal---are the main colors of the gay/mlm flag.

Charles, by contrast, dresses down a lot, and that makes a lot of sense when you consider the fact that unlike Edwin, he feels comfortable pretty much anywhere. On any given episode, he goes from wearing his peacoat to just wearing his flannel to ditching the flannel to not even wearing the freaking polo---though, again, the latter is something that only happens when he's in the office with Edwin. Safe space, safe person. And, well, plenty of people have analyzed Charles's polo shirt going from red to burgundy to black over the course of the series, and there being a little bit of red under the collar of his coat that's only visible when Edwin fixes it, and then it goes back to burgundy, and then it's red again when Edwin's out of Hell... for good reason! It's color symbolism at its finest! Not to mention, the red and black not only perfectly contrasts Edwin's color scheme, but it also lines up with Charles's personality---he's a rebel, he's hotheaded, he's bold and brash and loud... and yes, he's angry, but he's also so, so loving.

When we first meet Crystal after she loses her memories, her outfit choices feel very deliberate. They're stylish and vaguely trendy, they're arty and a little bit witchy---pretty fitting for a psychic who's also a showbiz kid, even if she doesn't know that last part. But all of her clothes appear thrifted, or at the very least vintage, and the patterns and the general vibe all feel natural and comforting. Her makeup's always fairly simple, her hair's either down or up in a couple of cute space buns... overall, this Crystal looks like the kind of person who'd make you tea when you're in a bad mood, who'll listen when you just need to vent, and who may not always know the right thing to say but will understand what you're going through. But when we see her in the flashbacks, her clothing's flashy and prioritizes high-end trends over comfort, she's either got her hair up or has it straightened, and she not only has dramatic makeup, but acrylics. This is a girl who talks shit about you behind your back, who's bitter and cynical and wants everyone to feel the same way, who makes up for the lack of love and stability in her life via material things. It's also worth noting that Crystal's color scheme has a lot of purple, which is a color that connects to wealth and luxury, but also creativity and magic---which, yeah, fits her two conflicting sides pretty damn well.

You cannot talk about Niko Sasaki without talking about her outfits, and the meaning behind each of them has already been talked about at length. However, one thing that really stands out to me is that the reason they're so iconic isn't just because of the monochrome color schemes, but because they're out there. They're weird, they're eclectic, they're a little mismatched in style sometimes, and they're so unapologetically her. Niko wears heart-shaped sunglasses, unironically. Everything about the way she dresses speaks to how, even though she's a recovering shut-in who initially doesn't want to be perceived, she's still very sure of who she is.

Jenny's design, like Charles and Edwin's, is a design that gives you the key information you need the minute she first appears onscreen. The dark makeup, the silver jewelry, the leather apron, and the hairstyle all point to a person who's tough, doesn't take anyone's shit, and has long since given up on caring what other people think---in other words, she's a badass. But the butterfly tattoo hints at a softer side, a side that we see time and time again throughout the series as she shows that she cares about Crystal and Niko, and even the boys... eventually. Also, Jenny's design is perhaps one of the most clearly queer-coded in the series, to the point where her being a confirmed lesbian is pretty much a no-brainer.

Esther's design oozes camp, from top to bottom. The fluffy coat, the bustier, the boots and the cane and the everything, speak to a woman who's kept with the times and yet has seen it all. There's really not a lot I can fully say about her design, other than what Charles has already said: "She looks like a witch... like, kind of a sexy witch, who smokes a lot." (Or maybe I'm just tired and running out of steam at this point, idk, I love Esther's design and I can't really put it into words.) It's also pretty fitting that her color scheme has a lot of yellow in it---after all, she's always striving for more, so what better color for her than the color of gold?

Everything about the Night Nurse's design speaks to a woman who follows rules and discipline above all else, from the pantsuit to the pinned-up hairstyles to the tie to the heels. She's also the most muted out of the main cast in terms of color, dressing mostly in browns, dull greens, and duller browns---and while I don't have a lot to go into detail about there, I feel like that's kind of a symbol of her narrow-minded and bureaucratic worldview.

And the animal characters... Jesus Christ, I fully forget that they're all being played by human actors. Tragic Mick dresses like a man who's always spent his life by the sea, layered denim and all, and it's never a stretch to see this sad, bushy-bearded, baggy-clothed fisherman and imagine him as a walrus lounging on a beach. Monty, at first glance, seems to only wear black, which would be perfectly fitting for a crow, but when he's in better lighting, you see that he dresses in layers of red and blue, calling to how he envies Charles and Edwin and clearly longs for something more---and this might just be me, but I think that even though his outfits seem fairly normal at first glance, they feel kind of like a costume for Monty more than anything else, like he's trying to emulate a teenager that he's seen on TV more than someone in real life.

The Cat King fits this just as well, with all of his outfits aligning perfectly with whatever his cat form is at the time---when he's a fluffy ginger, it's always sequins and fur coats and clothing pieces that are specifically designed to take up space and call attention, and when he's a black shorthair, it's sleek styles and shiny leather and pieces that are designed to cut an intimidating yet more subtle figure. And while I could go into detail about all of those, what really stands out to me is how clearly queer everything is---more than Jenny's alt lesbian attire, more than Esther's campy coat and corset. From the very first scene he's in, he's wearing a skirt, and it looks natural. Nothing about the way the Cat King presents himself is exaggerated, nothing about the way he dresses is played for laughs---he's flamboyant and feminine and flirty, and he looks so fucking hot while he does it. It's gorgeous.

So... yeah, uh, all the awards for the Dead Boy Detectives costume designers!

[hurlingdown]

BABY FEVER ? ! — ft. dom! top reader, sub ftm! character, breeding kink, free use, creampie(s), character being a cumslut.

it took a while before the baby fever hit. and then he was everywhere, climbing into your bunk at three in the morning for some sleepy sex, cockwarming you at your desk whenever you were busy with work, rubbing his wet cunt on your clothes and pillow while waiting for you to come home — the need to be filled and bred too much to bear.

his pussy’s all loose, walls moulded into the shape of your cock, always soaked and gaping and ready to be used. it takes a huge custom-made plug to stuff the cum back into him now, and even then, he prefers you. he feels like a sleeve for your cock, and he loves it: the feeling of always being full and plump, as though he were already with child.

“want a baby,” he'd mumble, laying on his side in a puddle of his squirt and cum after yet another round of lovemaking, spreading his thighs so you could play with his pussy. he rubs his clit thoughtfully, looking at you from over his shoulder. “haven’t been on the pill for a while now, y'know. how long is it even gunna take?” 

the process of the two of you going from using condoms and contraceptives on a bed, prim and proper, to rawing absolutely everywhere was so natural that it didn’t hit you that this was what he wanted all along. a baby. your baby.

you watch as he palms his pudgy tummy with an adorable frown, the pressure causing cream to leak out from between his wet folds and onto your hardening cock. "jus’ wanna get pregnant already..."

. . . fuck decency. you were going to have your way with him until you put a baby inside that.

“soon,” you promise, hooking your chin over his shoulder, and he shudders at the feeling of the tip of your cock pushing into his gaping pussy, the white-hot burn of being fucked too much. he whines, pushing his ass back, already anticipating another thick load of your cum.

“you want a baby, right?" you flatten your palm on his tummy, giving it a little squeeze as your cock nestles snugly into his warm cunt. "gonna give you three riiight here, sweet thing.” 

masterlist!