jjk centric .☘︎ ݁ lurker .☘︎ ݁ my tumblr is for self-indulgence!🫡 .☘︎ ݁ jellyfish obsessed .☘︎ ݁ love whimsy
probably wont post much, maybe art and random thoughts sometimes…i love love interacting w people but im a liiiittl shy and struggle so sorry,..💓 i try my best
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I love how there are so many research articles out there — that are backed up by licensed experts and actual victims/survivors — that prove creative writing, including dark fiction, can help a lot of victims and survivors heal from their trauma (not all, obviously, but it works for a lot of people) but there are still some random people on the internet who are like “actually no I support victims and survivors, because I’m such a good person, but if they heal in a way that I personally do not approve of then I am gonna shame them and call them predators. like why would they do that especially without my permission ewww disgusting”
you can believe victims about what they experienced and also not want to torch the lives of the people they've accused without proof. that is a space you can walk in and usually it's not even that hard. I say this as a survivor of domestic violence. "believe victims" doesn't mean get torches and pitchforks any more than "innocent until proven guilty" means victims are lying. please please learn this "believe victims" isn't about the perpetrators it's about the victims
you wake to the weight of him already pressing into the mattress beside you, the heat of his body seeping through the thin sheet. the morning light filters through the blinds, casting pale stripes across the room, and satoru is propped on one elbow, watching you with those half-lidded eyes that make your stomach clench. he doesn't say anything for a long moment, just traces a lazy finger down your collarbone, over the curve of your breast, stopping to circle your nipple until it stiffens under his touch.
“morning,” your boyfriend murmurs, voice rough with sleep, and the word is a promise.
you shift, stretching into his hand, and he takes that as permission. the sheet falls away as he leans down, mouth replacing fingers, tongue flat against your nipple before he sucks it between his lips. a soft gasp escapes you, hand finding its way into his white hair, nails scraping lightly against his scalp. he hums against your skin, the vibration traveling straight to your cunt, and you feel yourself already starting to slick up.
his free hand slides down your stomach, over your hip, fingers dipping between your legs. he doesn't rush, doesn't push, just traces the line of your slit through the damp fabric of your underwear, collecting the wetness that's already beading there. “fuck, you're soaked,” he breathes, pulling back just enough to look at you, that lazy grin spreading across his face. “been dreaming about me?”
you don't answer with words. you hook your leg over his hip, grinding your clothed cunt against his hand, and he takes the hint. his fingers hook into the waistband of your underwear, tugging them down your thighs, and you lift your hips to help. he tosses them somewhere off the bed, not caring where they land, and then his hand is back, naked this time, two fingers sliding through your folds, collecting your wetness before he presses them inside.
the stretch is sweet, familiar, and you buck into his hand as he curls his fingers, finding that spot that makes your vision blur. he watches your face, that grin never quite leaving his lips, but his eyes are dark, hungry. “that's it,” he coaxes, pumping his fingers in and out, thumb pressing against your clit in slow, deliberate circles. “let me hear you.”
you're already breathless, hips moving in time with his hand, and when he adds a third finger, the pressure makes you gasp. he's not rushing, taking his time, working you open at a pace that's almost cruel. you can feel yourself clenching around his fingers, your body begging for more, and he knows it. he knows exactly what you need, and he's going to make you wait.
“satoru,” you whine, and the sound comes out broken, desperate.
“yeah?” he leans down, lips brushing your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “want my cock, don't you?”
“yes,” you gasp, and he pulls his fingers out slowly, deliberately, dragging them through your wetness one last time before he brings them to his own lips. he curls his tongue around them, tasting you, and the sight makes your cunt clench around nothing.
“god, you taste good,” he mutters, and then he's shifting, kneeling between your legs, his cock already hard and leaking against his stomach. he doesn't bother with his boxers, just pushes them down enough to free himself, and the first sight of him in the morning light makes your mouth water. he's thick, flushed, the head slick with pre-cum, and the way he strokes himself once, twice, before lining up with your entrance is almost too much.
he doesn't push in right away. he just rests the head against your soaked folds, sliding it through your wetness, teasing you both. your hips lift, trying to take him, but he holds still, that grin turning wolfish. “what's the hurry? we've got all morning.”
“i need you,” you say, and it's not an exaggeration. your whole body is aching for him, your cunt clenching on air, your nipples hard and sensitive against the cool air. you reach down, wrapping your fingers around his shaft, guiding him to where you need him most, and he finally gives in.
satoru pushes in slow, inch by inch, and the stretch is everything. your walls part around him, welcoming him, and the feeling of being filled so completely makes you moan. he doesn't stop until his hips are flush against yours, his balls pressing against your ass, and he stays there, letting you adjust, letting you feel every inch of him buried inside you.
“fuck, you're tight,” he breathes, forehead dropping to yours. “always so tight for me.”
you wrap your legs around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back, and that's all the encouragement he needs. he pulls out almost all the way, just the tip still inside, and then snaps his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth motion. the sound that escapes you is part moan, part scream, and he does it again, and again, building a rhythm that has the bed creaking beneath you.
the morning air fills with the sounds of your bodies meeting—wet, obscene, perfect. each thrust hits deep, the head of his cock pressing against that sensitive spot inside you, and you can feel your orgasm building already, coiling low in your belly. he's not holding back now, his pace quickening, his breath coming in ragged pants against your ear.
“look at me,” he commands, and you do, meeting those blue eyes that are almost black with lust. “i want to see your face when you come.”
his hand finds your clit, thumb pressing down in tight circles, and that's all it takes. the orgasm crashes over you, sudden and overwhelming, your back arching off the mattress, a cry tearing from your throat. your walls clench around him, milking his cock, and he groans, fucking you through it, not slowing down for a second.
“fuck, that's it,” he growls, and you can feel him thickening inside you, feel the twitch that means he's close. “gonna fill you up. gonna pump you so full.”
you're still trembling from the aftershocks when he buries himself one last time, hips stuttering, a guttural moan escaping his lips as he comes. you feel it—hot, wet, pouring into you, filling you in a way that makes your oversensitive cunt clench again. he rides it out, grinding against you, making sure every drop is buried deep.
when he finally stills, his weight settles on top of you, his cock still twitching inside you. he kisses your neck, your jaw, finally your mouth, and the kiss is lazy, spent, tasting of salt and morning breath.
“good morning,” he mumbles against your lips, and you laugh, the sound weak and breathless.
but he's not done. you feel him stirring inside you again, already half-hard, and he pulls back just enough to look at you with that familiar, wicked grin. “round two?”
before you can answer, he's moving, shifting his weight, rolling you onto your stomach. your knees find the mattress without prompting, your body already remembering this position from countless other mornings. he settles behind you, his chest pressing against your back, one hand bracing on the bed beside your head while the other guides his cock back to your slick, well-fucked cunt.
he pushes in with one smooth motion, and the angle is different, deeper, hitting a spot that makes your fingers curl into the sheets. he starts slow at first, drawing out each thrust, letting you feel every inch of him dragging along your walls. the wet sounds come back, mixed with your choked moans and his low curses.
“you take me so fucking well,” he grunts, one hand moving from the bed to grip your hip, fingers digging into the flesh hard enough to leave bruises. “you love feeling my cock in you, don't you?”
“yes,” you gasp, pushing back against him, meeting his thrusts.
he reaches around, hand sliding down your belly, fingers finding your clit again. you're already so sensitive from the first orgasm that the touch makes you gasp, but he doesn't relent, rubbing you in tight circles as he fucks into you. the pleasure is almost too much, bordering on pain, and it only makes you wetter.
his pace quickens, his breathing growing ragged. the headboard starts knocking against the wall with each thrust, and he doesn't care. you can't care, either—all that exists is the feeling of him inside you, his hand on your clit, his breath hot on your neck.
“gonna come again,” he says, his voice strained. “gonna come inside you and you're gonna take it all.”
“i will,” you manage, and the words are your undoing. his hips slam against yours, once, twice, and then he's shuddering behind you, a low moan torn from his throat as he spills into you again. the feeling of his cock pulsing inside you, the heat of his cum filling you, tips you over the edge, your own orgasm washing through you in waves, your cunt milking him dry.
he collapses over you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, his lips trailing lazy kisses along your spine. you're both panting, slick with sweat, the room smelling of sex and morning light.
after a long moment, he pulls out slow, and you feel the rush of his cum leaking out of you, dripping down your thighs. he watches, his hand coming down to push some of it back inside, his fingers gentle but deliberate.
“stay,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “let it soak in.”
you laugh, the sound soft and content, and roll onto your back to face him. he looks debauched, his hair a mess, his lips swollen, his chest flushed. he's beautiful in a way that makes your heart ache.
satoru grins, sliding back up to capture your mouth in a slow, deep kiss. his hand traces down your side, resting on your hip, thumb stroking the damp skin. “breakfast,” he says against your lips, “or another round?”
your legs are shaking, your cunt sore and full of his cum, and the thought of another round sends a shiver through you. but you can feel his cock against your thigh, already stirring again, and you know your answer before you speak.
“another round,” you whisper, pulling him down to you.
he laughs, the sound muffled against your mouth, and this time when he enters you, it's slow, gentle, a different kind of claiming. the morning stretches out before you, and neither of you is in any hurry to let it end.
getting scambot messages from random accounts that clearly used to be normal active blogs is sad enough. you know that there used to be a real person on that blog until they were tricked into handing their password to the digital fae.
but it's an entirely new level of tragic when somebody you've actually spoken to gets turned into a bot account. it's like peeking at a zombie apocalypse through the window and realizing one of the shambling corpses was your friend.
and then the zombie catches sight of you, lurches up to your window, and shouts through the glass that they accidentally reported your account to tumblr and you'll be deactivated unless you click this link.
RIP to the blog that used to DM me to tell me they liked my new chapters. Their last known words spoken before being turned, 17 hours ago: "Ggs!" They were praising someone's deadlift.
the message they tried to get me with is probably the same message that got them, so for anybody who hasn't already been warned about the signs of a zombie account:
if you get something like this ↑ they're gonna follow up by instructing you to contact tumblr support on discord and give you contact info; or they're gonna link a website that looks sort of like tumblr support and say you have to email them; or any variety of "you must now contact tumblr, here is how you contact tumblr."
whatever they send you, it Does Not lead to tumblr. it leads to the master zombie that bit them and inducted them into the ranks of the undead, and will bite you the second they have your email and password. i might be confusing zombies and vampires. anyway,
it's easier to fall for these messages because the blog doesn't LOOK like a bot blog, because it ISN'T a bot blog. it's a normal person's blog that got accessed by a bot, meaning the blog's content CLEARLY looks like a real active user when you click on it. and yes—it might even be a blog you already know. sometimes bots like this go down a blog's DMs or reblogs and message people they've previously interacted with.
they got one of my treasured followers, and they can get you too. don't fall for their tricks. know the signs.
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𝓖.𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 🌷♡ ͏͏ is fighting demons while you hump his thigh in your sleep.
♡. 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓽𝓱𝓻𝓸𝓫. older clanhead!satoru :: age gap (40s/20s) :: arranged marriage :: smut :: wet dreams :: satoru's fighting a losing battle
⊹ ꒰ 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚎 ꒱ ⊹
"Are you scared I'll pop your hip if you let me bounce on it?"
You chirped one day during breakfast.
He choked up his mouthful of rice. Hacked with tears in his eyes while you had the audacity to rub smooth circles on his back. Hellish minx with your hands softer than heaven.
Satoru was the strongest, and you tested all forty four years of that strength.
"You are actually going to kill me," he grunted, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve.
Your eyes glimmered. "You've got a hefty life insurance, rightttt?"
Never in his life had it been so hard to fight a smile. You were something else. A demon and a doe, placed into his scarred hands.
You were all he was looking for and everything that he shouldn't want, even three months into your marriage.
Every day, you chipped away at a new section of his sanity. Made his slowly failing hormones surge and erect. Ahem, in more ways than one.
It was the way you spoke to him. Silk and smooth.
The way you batted those bratty, bambi eyes at him.
The way you flaunted that pretty body of yours. Teases of skin with your kimono dipped below your shoulder. Or the towel you'd prance around in the room with, agonisingly slowly as you went about your morning routine.
Yeah. Satoru had accepted that he was married to a crazy girl. A young girl. Who looked like she was a second closer every day to jumping his bones and giving him more wrinkles in his thighs.
To say he didn't fantasise about it would be a lie. Satoru thought about the things he could do to your soft, tender body more times than he'd like to admit.
Were you all big talk? Would you crumble the second his worn hands slipped between your thighs?
Would you be able to take him at all?
Guess that's a thought that'll remain just that. A thought. A guilty fantasy he'll condemn himself for until the day he closes his eyes.
After much whining and those puppy eyes that his infinity had no chance against, he loosened up enough to cuddle you. Hold you through the night when you curled into him and tucked yourself under his chin like a cat. You sure were as mischievous as one.
But in your sleep, without those damning eyes and pretty smiles, Satoru could admire you without the threat of a vein popping. Or a stroke. Or a heart attack.
The tender slopes of your face. The gentleness of your brows. The softness of your lips. Angelic. You were angelic.
Well, when you weren't trying to hump his thigh.
Somewhere in the dead of dawn. On a day the gods decided to test his every ounce of patience, Satoru awoke to the softest, sweetest sound.
A moan.
Groggily, his eyes fluttered open. Halfway through a stir when he heard it again—
"toru."
His stare shot down. Hands already on your waist and a scold rising to his tongue.
Only to see that you were fast asleep.
Brows twitched in a small pinch. Face blotched in the darkness. Lips parted. Your fingers curled into him while your hips rolled in a stuttered rhythm.
He took a breath. Then two. Three. Enough for him to catch up to what was happening.
You were dreaming.
"Mm. . . Satoruuuu."
Worse, you were dreaming about him.
Stewing in guilty pleasure, Satoru watched for a selfish moment. Your scrunched up face. Your hips rutting on his haphazardly.
His breath lodged in his throat.
A damp spot bloomed on his thigh.
Fuck.
He grit his teeth. Summoned all his strength. Squeezed his eyes shut and said every affirmation under the sun.
I will not touch my wife who's half my age.
I will not help her horny dream self.
I will not drive myself crazy with her sweet moans.
I will not be tempted by her little wet pussy on my— NO.
He gulped. Hard. Glaring to the ceiling as he fought off demons while you humped him like a rabbit in heat.
Eventually, he found the strength to grip your waist. To stop you. More importantly, the strength to not pull you over his crotch and grind up into that sweet cunt.
Your moans stirred into whimpers. Stirred into shudders. Your bucking hips slowing until they laid motionless.
Peace.
Or well, as much peace as he could have with a heavy, hot throb between his thighs.
This was a comic. Fucking. Joke.
There you were. Sleeping soundly with a content smile on your face. Like your wetness wasn't smeared on his thigh and you weren't humping the hell out of his leg just a moment afo. Looking as beautiful as you were damning.
Fuck. He was gonna lose his mind.
Sucking in a breath, Satoru slowly unwinded his limbs from yours. Slipping away before he broke all of his vows. Not tonight. Not ever.
Even through the ice cold shower, he was staring at his pulsing erection. Refusing to go down. Standing high at attention.
He almost wanted to slap it.
Slap himself.
Slap whatever divine force brought him here. Strung him between all of his morals, and his sweet young wife.
"Toru?" Your petal voice called out.
He groaned. Slumping his head against the tiles. Oh yeah. You were gonna give him a stroke.
"But it's not FOR them!!!" The biggest military power in the world belongs to a christofascist nation overseen by a felon found guilty of 34 federal crimes and has greenlit a gestapo with more direct funding than the entire military of Canada for the purpose of ethnic cleansing. Let Hetero Jessica throw some biodegradable glitter at a municipal parade
At this point if anyone is trying to exclude anyone benignly pro-queer from a pro-queer space I'm just going to assume you're a fed or something idk like something something destabilize the movement from within or whatever
toji fushiguro has your body naked in front of the mirror and his warm hands groping your hips. he lets his pinky slide up your puffy, wet slit—just a graze, just over your clit—and he doesn’t let your eyes leave the mirror as he draws back his pinky dripping with your slick.
“go on, princess,” he rasps into your neck. “m’listening.”
but he’s not just listening. your boyfriend is still in his boxers—unfair, really, because you’re clad in nothing & the room is too warm & your thighs are trembling from both the heat and the pressure. he wraps himself around you and slides his hands up to your tits. he gropes your breast once and lets his hands fall away.
your mouth dries. “i can’t.”
but your hips are bucking into him. rolling against his clothed cockhead as your pussy drools from the anticipation. toji laughs, chest warm against your back as he pinches your clit, forcing your hips to stutter & a whine to leave your lips. “y’got a pretty mouth, dollface. wanna hear you use it.”
in the mirror your thighs are still aching, chest heaving, and toji fushiguro has slipped his cock out of his shorts. you’re not sure you heard his waistband snap but his cock is there, flushed and swollen and dripping with precum.
"you see that ?" he murmurs, breath hot against your neck as he pumps himself in his fist all heavy & slow. "see what you do to me, sweetheart? standing there all pretty and wet?”
he lets the soaked head tap against your ass—once, twice—before dragging it lower between your thighs, letting it slip through your slick folds without pushing inside. your pussy flutters at the teasing, & toji watches your chest heave in the mirror through bleary eyes.
"you want this?" he murmurs, cockhead nudging your throbbing folds from behind. "want my cock in this pussy, baby?” he lets his precum smear over the folds. “start talking.”
you swallow, eyes glazed with lust and hips stuttering as you force the courage to speak. “i…i have nice tits.”
“breasts,” toji growls into your neck. “breasts, dollface. say it properly.”
your thighs squeeze. your eyes are teary when you look in the mirror, face flushed, tits heaving. "i have nice breasts."
"mmh," toji slides a palm up your side. he lets his thumb brush against your aching nipple, before twisting and stretching the pebbled peak between his fingers. you arch into him on instinct. "so nice, dollface. and what else? look at this pussy in the mirror, baby. tell me all about it."
his thumb presses into your clit. but then he slides it away.
you moan, loud, slick dripping down your thighs. toji’s cock twitches against your ass, but clearly he’s got the self control of a god.
your lashes are tear rimmed. “i have—i have a pretty pussy!”
“so pretty,” he murmurs, tugging your clit before pressing his thumb against it, rubbing slow circles over the bud. “prettiest pussy i’ve ever fucking seen. so wet and noisy for me. tell me more, sweetheart.”
“my pussy is so tight,” you rasp, breathless and hips twitching as toji rubs his thumb against the sensitive bud. “hnngh—so tight and wet for you, toji.”
"yeah?" he murmurs against your ear. his cock nudges your slick folds, pulsing and throbbing at the entrance. "love this fucking pussy, you know that?"
you can only whimper in response.
"love how puffy it is," he continues, dragging his swollen cockhead up your slit, only to drag it down again. "love how it tries to swallow me. see that, baby? see how it slobbers all over my cock?” he pushes his swollen head in as your cunt flutters around him. “fucking perfect.”
“toji—“ you gasp, “please—“
“please what?” he growls, pushing his hips into you. his thick cock swells between your folds, pulsing and stretching your puffy cunt. “want me to play with this pussy, baby? fuck you so hard your tits bounce in the mirror?”
“mhm—“
“words, sweetheart.”
“want you to fuck me,” you gasp out, hips bucking back to chase his cockhead and push him deeper into your folds. “want you to play with my pussy and fuck me till i’m dripping—“
“fuck,” toji groans, slamming into you, hard. “thaaaat’s my fucking girl. see how easy it is to please me?”
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btw it's so fucking stupid you can be anxious physically in your body even after you've decided mentally you don't care. I'm supposed to be in charge here
if you delete one of your miis, the other miis who were their friends should mourn them. there should be a chance for one of them to make it their life's mission to make you pay for what you did
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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