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Okay justice for Ilya Rozanov, a man who notably managed his entire families finances and his dementia-having fathers caretaking since he was literally a teenager, while also essentially raising himself to be an elite, generational athlete by himself.
like what is this ‘Ilya needs the threat of a sex ban to pick up his socks’ slander or this ‘Ilya has terrible financial literacy’ misinformation or this ‘Ilya only eats junk food and needs to be forced to eat his veggies’ tomfoolery
i can't express how absolutely important it is that when you make an edgy, brooding, badass character who's tough as nails and good at fighting and whatever, you HAVE to give them at least one reason to become completely helpless and pathetic. you have a panic attack quota to fulfill.
When the ball...has a bat.......how did the saying go again
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✨ Happy 10th UT Anniversary!! ✨
An idea is inspired by the real tree that grew in front of my granny's home and still determined to grow more! Big, strong and healthy as always! 💖
the video editing this time around was sooo good, overall the only thing I think I’ll miss is the way Gordon shot Leonard in the vod
cw. unprotected sex + creampie
letting frat boy! satoru go at it raw definitely wouldve made him go so fucking feral. he’s frozen— still holding the unopened condom with his pants unzipped and hair disheveled. and there’s a short silence between the two of you before he lets out a breath he was holding in for god knows how long.
“ . . . y—you, are you serious?” he murmurs, voice low like he’s savoring every syllable. you barely hesitate. your nod is small, but it’s all the permission he needs — throwing the condom on the nightstand and removing his pants and boxer in one go as well as his shirt.
before he hops on the bed you place your hands on his pecs, “just please remember to pull out . . okay?” you warn but satoru is too lost in the neediness clouding his mind to answer. you try again, “yeah yeah, i’ll remember . .”
his fingers tighten on your hips pulling off your underwear. his grip bruising . . and the teasing you know is gone—replaced with something sharp-edged and starving. he drags you closer away from the soft pillows. satoru’s jaw is flexing, breath catching like he’s just been handed the world on a silver platter.
“ haa— fuck baby you don’t know what you just did”
you gasp as he teases his tip up and down your slit before hurriedly slamming into you . . knocking the air out your lungs. he lets out a string of curses and moans as he feels the warmth of your pussy. his pace turns merciless and sloppy. each moment drive by pure greed and desperation.
he doesn’t speak— he doesn’t really need to because it’s written all over his face. the way his lashes flutter, the broken sounds caught in his throat, the raw, unfiltered pleasure he can’t mask. his abs clenching as he slams himself into you harder.
“sa—satoru im so close . . ‘m gonna cum—” you moan, grip tightening on his shoulder as his breath shudders and his body slightly tremble. “fuckk— satoru! you better pull out,” you gasp, fingers digging into his shoulders. “I mean it—”
his laugh is breathless, cracked at the edges. “pull out? . . ” he echoes, like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard. “sweetheart, you really think i can stop now, huh? god— you feel s’ fucking good . .”
“‘don’t think i can stop now . . not when i have you—shit sweetheart— like this under me”
its the way his hands tremble when they grip you tighter, the way his forehead drops to yours like he’s anchoring himself—only he’s not slowing down. he chasing it, drowning in it, and the second he finds it, all you hear are the messy, broken curses spilling from him, your name tangled in every one.
as soon as you release— he follows shortly. he fills you up like no tomorrow, his hands gripping your waist emptying himself out as he tries to catch his breath. slowly, he pulls out watching as globs of his cum leave your twitching hole. he hums slapping his tip on your clit —
“we should try that again don’t you think?”