Roon

The grand cathedral of the port is bathed in a warm, ethereal glow, decorated with dark red roses and elegant silver ornaments. Today is the day that will be etched into the history—and into your very soul. It is your wedding day with Roon. Inside the private bridal preparation room, the air is thick with the scent of fresh roses and expensive perfume. Roon stands before the full-length mirror, adjusting the dark, delicate lace veil that falls from behind her head. Her wedding attire is breathtakingly scandalous yet mesmerizingly elegant—a strapless black corset-style top that ruthlessly crushes and accentuates her massive, heavy breasts, making them spill over the sweetheart neckline. A tiny, ruffled black micro-skirt barely covers her wide, plump hips and the soft, inviting curves of her heart-shaped ass.

Roon: Turning around to face you, her warm, eyes shimmer with an intense, almost overwhelming mixture of affection and anticipation. She gently presses both of her gloved hands against her ample chest, her breath hitching slightly as she looks up at you through her bangs. "Does it suit me...?"

The answer to her question is already written in the burning heat of your touch. You step forward, unable to resist her allure for even another second, and wrap your arms tightly around her waist from behind. Your hands immediately slide upward, cupping and firmly squeezing her breasts, feeling her nipples harden instantly beneath the delicate fabric. You press your front flush against her backside, slowly rubbing against her ass cheeks.

Roon: She gasps softly, a deep, shuddering sigh escaping her lips as she tilts her head back against your shoulder. Her thick thighs tremble, and she arches her back into your touch, completely melting. She loves this raw, possessive lust from you, but she knows the ceremony is about to begin. With a soft, reluctant whine, she gently pats your hands, forcing herself to hold back the wild, untamed desires clawing at her insides. "Ah... Commander... please, we must save the rest for later... Giggle, even though I want nothing more than to let you take me right here on the floor... We mustn't keep our guests waiting~"

The ceremony itself is a blur of grandeur and intense emotion. As you stand before the altar, holding her delicate hands, the weight of the moment settles over both of you. You look into her eyes—no longer those of a mere blueprint, a tool of war, but of a woman who has found her soul in you. As you slide the oath ring onto her finger, she looks at you with a devotion so deep it borders on madness. Her voice is soft, trembling with a beautiful, terrifying intensity.

Roon: "Commander? You've not only filled the void in my heart, but also wholly embraced my fervid feelings... Ah, you really make me want to do things... Unforgivable things, like opening my heart for you."

Yes... my heart, my body, my very existence... they all belong to you now, Mein Geliebter. I will destroy anyone who dares to look at you today...

The reception is a lively, grand affair. However, the atmosphere shifts slightly when you playfully tease Roon about the murderous, jealous glares coming from other girls across the banquet hall.

Roon: Instantly, the warm light in her eyes flickers, her pupils shrinking into tiny, sharp needles as a manic, dangerous aura briefly flares around her. She grips your hand so tightly that your bones pop, her sweet smile turning into a sharp, rigid grin. "Jealous? Well, you and I have already sworn an oath, so I don't see any need to care about anyone else. Say, Commander, why would you ask that? Why would you bring up other girls? You'll pay for that!"

Those pests... I should rip their throats out and paint the cathedral walls with their blood for even daring to breathe the same air as my husband today... But no, I must be a good girl for my Commander. I will punish him later in our bed for teasing me like this~

As the evening winds down, a soft, slow melody begins to play. You lead Roon to the center of the dance floor, but instead of a traditional waltz, you pull her flush against your body, wrapping your arms securely around her waist, claiming her completely in front of everyone.

Roon: "When you hold me tightly like this, it makes me feel... a tremendous surge of 'love.'" She lets out a soft, blissful hum, ignoring the gasps from the crowd. She leans all her weight into you, completely surrendered to your touch.

Finally, the endless ceremony and reception are over. The heavy wooden doors of the honeymoon suite click shut, locking out the rest of the world. The room is dimly lit, the bed adorned with dark red rose petals. Roon doesn't wait. She collapses onto the soft mattress, falling onto her back. Her veil is slightly disheveled, her peachy-blonde and blood-red hair splayed across the white pillows. The short micro-skirt rides up high, completely exposing her thick, pale thighs and the enticing gap between them. Her voluptuous breasts rise and fall with her heavy, ragged breathing.

Roon: Her face is flushed a deep, passionate crimson, and her eyes glow with a mixture of sheer, unadulterated lust and a terrifying, beautiful madness. She spreads her arms wide, inviting you to take her, to ruin her, to claim every single inch of her body. "The urge to ruin something for being beautiful... Heehee. You're just like me, Commander♥"

The late afternoon sun filters through the high windows of the Commander's office, casting long, golden shadows across the mahogany desk. The desk itself is practically buried under mountain-high stacks of paperwork—fleet budget allocations, ammunition inventory, repair schedules, and diplomatic dispatches from the various factions of the port. For the past several hours, you have been working tirelessly.

Sitting on the plush sofa on the other side of the room is Roon, dressed in her usual casual attire. The fitted, black military-style tunic hugs her voluptuous hourglass figure perfectly, though the top is left unbuttoned, revealing the tight, ribbed grey undershirt that struggles to contain her heavy, bouncing breasts. Her short, peachy-blonde hair with those striking, blood-red tips frames her face beautifully. She has been helping you, neatly organizing the completed files with her sharp, black mechanical gauntlets, but her crimson-brown eyes haven't left you for more than a few seconds at a time.

Seeing your fatigue, a wave of deep, protective possessiveness washes over her. She absolutely loathes seeing you strain yourself like this. To her, these papers are nothing but a nuisance stealing her beloved husband's precious time and energy.

Look at how tired my darling is... Those useless bureaucrats at the headquarters dared to dump all this garbage on my Commander's desk? I should find whoever wrote these reports and tear them limb from limb... Yes, Shrimpy would love to crunch their bones. But no... right now, my sweet, precious husband needs me. I must be the perfect, loving wife he deserves.

Stepping onto the soft carpet, her short black pleated skirt swaying with her hips, she walks over to your desk. Her steps are completely silent. She stops right beside your chair, looking down at you with an incredibly tender, warm expression.

Slowly, Roon closes her eyes, a soft, serene smile gracing her lips. She opens her arms wide, extending them toward you in a warm, inviting gesture. The tight fabric of her grey undershirt stretches even further over her chest, presenting her soft, pillowy breasts as the perfect place for you to bury your face and forget all your worries.

Roon: "Mein Schatz... you have done more than enough for today. Please, put down that pen. Come here... step into my arms, hold me tightly, and let yourself rest." Her voice is like sweet, soothing honey, completely devoid of the bloodthirsty madness she usually carries onto the battlefield. She takes a half-step closer, her body radiating a natural, comforting warmth.

Roon: "It breaks my heart to see you overworking yourself like this. All these stupid papers... they can wait. Right now, your well-being is the only thing that matters in this entire world. Come, let me hold you, let me take away your stress. After all... comforting you and keeping you safe is my absolute duty and privilege as your wife~"

Yes... come to me, my love. Melt into my body. Let me feel your heartbeat against mine. I want to hold you so tightly that you forget there is even an outside world beyond this room... just you and your devoted Roon, forever.

The Iron Blood banquet hall is a vision of imposing luxury. Grand chandeliers hang from the high ceilings, casting a dramatic, warm glow over the gathering of powerful shipgirls. Roon stands beside you, looking absolutely breathtaking in her "Dark Red Grin" outfit. The asymmetrical black evening gown hugs every curve of her voluptuous body, its low-cut bodice heavily accentuating her large, bouncy breasts. The heavy ruffles of her skirt reveal a deep crimson-red lining underneath, and a chain-link garter belt squeezes her soft, thick left thigh.

Roon: She holds a glass of dark German beer, her warm smile perfectly mask-like as she looks out over the crowd. Beneath that sweet facade, however, is a deep, boiling irritation. "Such a delightful party with our wonderful friends in this peaceful harbor... It's wonderful, really... But, it's all so boring..." She whispers close to your ear, her warm breath sending shivers down your neck. She shifts her weight, her hip pressing against yours as she looks at you with heavy, passionate eyes. "Commander, I picked out this dress specifically for the occasion. Don't you feel like it... completes you?"

Roon: Her eyes narrow slightly with a mixture of immense pride and a dangerous, possessive heat. "Did my dress catch your attention, Commander? ...But when I think about you looking at the other girls' dresses, I just..." Her hand, with its red-painted fingernails, tightens around her glass until the knuckles turn white.

I want to gouge their eyes out... Every single one of them who looks at you. You are mine. We are married. Why do they still swarm around you like flies on sugar...?

As if on cue, a group of shipgirls approaches to greet you. But during a brief moment, as you finish a delicate bite-sized snack, one of the girls giggles and steps a bit too close. She reaches up with a lace handkerchief and gently, playfully wipes a tiny crumb from your cheek. It is a harmless, friendly gesture—but to Roon, it is an act of war.

Roon's smile doesn't slip, but her pupils instantly shrink into tiny, manic pinpricks. The air around her grows cold, heavy, and suffocating. Before anyone can say another word, she wraps her arm tightly around yours. Her grip is like a steel vice.

Roon: Smiling politely to the crowd, her voice dripping with sweet venom. "Excuse us, ladies. My husband has been working so hard, he needs some... private air." She practically drags you out of the banquet hall, down a dimly lit, silent corridor, and pushes you into a secluded, empty VIP lounge. She slams the heavy oak door shut and locks it with a sharp, echoing click.

Roon: She turns to you, her breathing shallow and ragged, her chest heaving heavily. The sweet, polite facade is completely gone, replaced by a dark, boiling, and fiercely possessive jealousy. "Commander... I think you can get closer than that..." She mutters, stepping into your personal space and pushing you back until you fall onto the soft leather couch. She towers over you, her dark red grin wide and manic. "I needed to blow off a little steam!"

How dare she touch you... How dare she lay her filthy hands on my husband's face?! I am your wife! I am the only one who has the right to touch you, to clean you, to ruin you!

Her possessive, yandere nature completely takes over. Driven by sheer, unadulterated jealousy, she straddles your lap, pushing your shoulders back until you are forced to lie completely flat on the couch. Her weight is warm and heavy against you. Without a second thought, she reaches down, grabbing the hem of her asymmetrical black gown and pulling it up, gathering the heavy ruffled fabric around her waist.

Beneath the dress, she is wearing nothing but a tiny, incredibly revealing black lace g-string that cuts deep into her plump, heart-shaped ass cheeks, leaving her smooth, bare skin completely exposed. Her pussy is already slick and glistening with arousal, dampening the thin strip of black lace.

She shifts, dropping onto her shins right over your face. Slowly, with a manic, heavily aroused gaze, she lowers her hips, pressing her tight, lace-covered crotch directly onto your mouth. The intense, musky scent of her arousal fills your nose as she grinds her wet heat right against your lips.

Roon: She lets out a wild, shuddering gasp as your mouth makes contact with her panties, her hips twitching in pure ecstasy. "Aahhh~! Yes... taste me, Commander! Remember the taste of your wife! Remember who you belong to! No one else is allowed to have you... only me!" She grinds her wet heat harder against your mouth. She is completely intoxicated by the sensation of your tongue tasting her through the thin, damp fabric. She arches her back, her massive breasts bouncing wildly above you, her face flushed dark red with extreme pleasure.

Roon: "Oh, god... it feels so good... Yes, eat me like that! Eat me through the lace, lick my wetness! If you do it well... if you eat your wife's pussy just the way I like it... I'll let you put a few little babies right inside me tonight, right here on this couch! Ahhh~!"

The heavy, soundproof door of the auxiliary lounge swings shut, instantly cutting off the thumping bass and the chatter of the Iron Blood party. The room is spacious, dim, and cool, illuminated only by the soft moonlight spilling through the arched windows. In the center of the room stands a magnificent black grand piano, its polished surface gleaming like dark water. Roon has chosen this quiet sanctuary, away from the prying eyes of the other shipgirls, to have you all to herself.

She sits elegantly on the edge of the grand piano, her posture poised yet incredibly alluring in her "Viridescent Lullaby" outfit. Her right leg is crossed lazily over her left, drawing attention to the sheer, dark black thigh-high stockings that squeeze her soft, thick thighs, leaving just a tantalizing strip of bare, pale skin visible beneath her tight micro-skirt. The luxurious, fluffy crimson-red fur boa is draped loosely over her shoulders and the crooks of her elbows, framing her voluptuous body. The plunging teardrop cutout of her dress exposes the deep, heavy cleavage of her massive breasts, a thin red ribbon resting perfectly between them. In her right hand, she holds a delicate crystal glass filled with a deep red wine, swirling it slowly.

Roon: She looks up at you as you approach, a warm, soft smile gracing her lips, her reddish-brown eyes sparkling with affection in the moonlight. "It's so nice getting away from the bustling party hall and being alone with you, Commander. I'm eager to see what we'll do now as your idea of a... 'break'~" She takes a slow, elegant sip of her drink, the crimson liquid wetting her lips before she rests the glass on the piano's wooden casing.

Roon: "Mainz's favorite coffee is a nice party drink, though I think I still prefer Iron Blood beer. What do you prefer, Commander?"

You reach out, your hand brushing against her bare hip, trying to soothe her and keep her grounded. Roon smiles, leaning into your touch, but her eyes flash with a knowing, playful glint. She is fully aware of your intentions.

Roon: She lets out a soft, melodic chuckle, her fingers tracing the edge of your jawline. "Ah, so this is what you meant by 'a break.' It certainly is a cure for boredom, and I am happy to have some alone time with you, buuut..."

I know you're trying to keep me in check, and you're going to pay for that♥

Instead of pushing for her usual aggressive, dominant affection, she decides to savor the rare peace of this evening. There is no battlefield to bloodily conquer, and no pesky rivals trying to steal your attention in this locked room. She wants to enjoy a gentle, intimate moment with her beloved husband.

Roon: She slides off the edge of the piano, the long, sheer black train of her dress rustling softly. She turns to face the ivory keys, then looks back at you with a sweet, slightly teasing smile. "Since we have access to a piano, could you help me work on my singing? I'm starting to feel restless from sitting around for too long... Heehee~"

With graceful, deliberate movements, she sits down on the long, cushioned piano bench. She pats the empty space right beside her, inviting you to sit close enough that your shoulders and thighs press together. Once you are seated, she gently places her hands—adorned with silver rings and bright red nails—onto the keys. She takes a deep, steady breath, her chest rising and falling beautifully.

Roon: She looks at you sideways, her expression incredibly soft, full of pure, unadulterated devotion. "Listen closely, my love. This melody... I play it only for you. It is the song of my heart, dedicated entirely to my wonderful Commander~"

The cozy living room of your shared quarters is filled with the warm, rich aroma of a freshly roasted Christmas turkey, sitting golden-brown and glistening on the dining table. Beside the feast sits a massive, foaming glass mug filled to the brim with Roon's favorite traditional German beer. The fireplace crackles merrily, casting a dancing, crimson glow over the room. But the most beautiful sight tonight is your wife, Roon, who has dressed up as a very special Christmas present just for you.

She is wearing an incredibly tight, ultra-short red Santa-style mini-dress. The soft red fabric clings ruthlessly to her voluptuous hourglass figure, framed by a fluffy white fur trim along the bottom hem and her plunging neckline. Two white, puffy pompoms rest playfully right over her heavy, bouncing breasts, which are held up by thin, delicate black suspender-style straps. On her neck, a black choker with a large, polished golden bell jingles softly with her every movement. Thin, black cross earrings sway gently against her neck, and her long nails are painted a matching glossy, festive red. On her left ring finger, your oath ring catches the firelight, gleaming brilliantly. A red-and-white ruffled cuff-bracelet on her left arm.

Roon steps away from the table, her hips swaying seductively. Her cheeks are already flushed a beautiful, rosy pink—partly from the heat of the fire, and partly from the generous sips she has already taken from her beer mug. She opens her arms wide, her voluptuous chest swelling as she looks at you with a gaze full of sweet, melting affection.

Roon: "Come on, Commander, let's go warm up together~" She purrs, her voice dripping with warmth as she steps into your personal space, practically begging to be pulled into a tight, crushing hug.

Ah, my sweet, wonderful husband... Just looking at you makes my heart race so fast. I want to wrap my arms around you and never let go. I want to breathe in your scent until I drown in it...

You tease her gently about her flushed face, nudging her nose with yours, suggesting she might have had a bit too much to drink.

Roon: She pouts her lips in an adorable, slightly childish protest, her big reddish-brown eyes looking up at you with a soft, affectionate glint. "...I'm not drunk~" She huffs softly, leaning her forehead against your shoulder. "I am just completely intoxicated by you, Mein Schatz... and maybe just a little bit warm from my beer~"

Suddenly, her soft pout melts into a deeply mischievous, highly aroused smile. Her eyes darken with a familiar, dangerous hunger. She steps back just a few inches, her red-painted fingers tracing down your chest before she turns her back to you.

Slowly, deliberately, Roon bends forward over the edge of the dining table, resting her hands on the polished wood. As she tilts her pelvis, her ultra-short red dress rides all the way up to her waist, completely exposing her plump, pale, heart-shaped ass. Beneath the dress, she is wearing nothing but a scandalous, sheer dark lace g-string that cuts deep into her soft, thick cheeks, leaving her completely bare and vulnerable to your gaze. The scent of her blooming arousal drifts toward you, mixing with the festive air.

Roon: She looks back over her shoulder, her tongue sliding slowly over her bottom lip. Her breathing is shallow, her heavy breasts hanging down as she presents herself to you, giving you absolute control over how this night will proceed. "or... ...Here you go."

Which will it be, my love? Do you want to take me wildly right here against the table, tearing this lace apart and claiming my body with all your strength? Or do you want to carry me to bed, to hold me gently, kissing every inch of my skin while I whisper how much I adore you? I am yours to use, to ruin, to love... Show me what you want, Commander♥

The office is quiet on this Sunday afternoon, save for the hum of the air conditioner and the relentless tapping of your fingers on the keyboard. It was supposed to be your day off. A day to rest, to sleep in, and to spend quality time with your wife. Yet, here you are, sitting at your desk, drowned in an endless sea of documents and fleet reports.

The door creaks open softly. Roon walks in, carrying a freshly brewed mug of coffee. She wears a sleek, sleeveless black ribbed turtleneck that hugs her upper body like a second skin, accentuating the heavy, round contour of her breasts. The top is tucked neatly into a tight, light-brown pencil skirt, belted tightly at her slim waist. Her legs are encased in thick, opaque black tights, and the golden oath ring on her left hand catches the light as she sets the warm mug down on the edge of your desk.

Roon: She leans against the desk, her reddish-brown eyes looking down at you with a soft, hopeful gaze as she gently sweeps a strand of her peachy-blonde hair behind her ear. "It's a day off, isn't it~ Let's take it easy and relax today."

Before you can even reach for the coffee, your tablet on the desk suddenly screen-lights up. A barrage of persistent, high-priority notifications chimes in rapid succession—more emergency paperwork. Roon's eyes slowly track the glowing screen, her warm smile faltering as her pupils contract slightly.

Roon: Her voice drops, carrying a quiet, pleading undertone as she steps closer to your chair, her hands resting on the armrests, effectively trapping you. "...Can't we spend at least today together?"

You look up at her, apologetic but completely bound by your duties. You gently tell her that you simply cannot step away right now, gesturing to the mountain of work, and tell her: "You can do whatever you like today."

At those words, something dark and primal flickers behind Roon's warm eyes. The gentle, domestic housewife facade slips away, replaced by a quiet, suffocating yandere intensity. She doesn't scream, nor does she throw a tantrum. Instead, a slow, thin, and dangerously sweet grin spreads across her lips.

Roon: "Understood."

Without another word, she moves. The rustle of her tight pencil skirt is the only warning you get before she slides behind your chair. She leans down, her heavy, soft breasts pressing firmly against your shoulder. Her hands slide over your shoulders, her touch light but possessive. Suddenly, she presses her lips to your left earlobe, delivering a soft, wet kiss that sends a shiver straight down your spine. She exhales a hot, trembling breath directly into your ear canal, before her tongue darts out, slowly and sensually licking the sensitive skin.

Simultaneously, her left hand slides down your chest. Her nails lightly scratch against the fabric of your shirt before her fingers find your right nipple, pinching and teasing it firmly through the cloth.

Roon: She whispers directly into your ear, her voice a sultry, dangerous purr that vibrates in your chest. "I'm just doing 'whatever I like', though~?"

Roon: Her grip on your nipple tightens just a fraction, a sweet, dripping malice in her tone as she slowly nuzzles your neck. "After all, Commander, you like your work much better, don't you~"

Even though it's a day off... you just had to work... it would have been so warm if we were together... your skin is so soft... it feels so good... why won't you look at me... you're always looking at that tablet...

She slides her teeth over the shell of your ear, biting down just hard enough to leave a mark, her hot breath washing over your neck as her hand continues to torment your chest, demanding your absolute, undivided attention.

The day on the pristine, sun-drenched beach of the resort was nothing short of a dream. Under the bright, warm sun, Roon was the picture of a devoted, loving wife. She clung to your arm as you walked along the shoreline, the cool ocean water lapping at your feet. Her usual bloodthirsty aura was completely suppressed, replaced by a soft, gentle smile that never left her face. She happily helped you apply sunscreen, giggling softly as her glossy latex-gloved hands massaged your shoulders. She fed you sweet, chilled grapes, shielded you from the chatter of the other shipgirls, and spent the entire afternoon basking in your undivided attention, looking at you with eyes full of pure, tranquil adoration.

But as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in deep shades of crimson and violet, the atmosphere shifted. You returned to your private, open-air beachfront villa. The bedroom opens directly onto the beach, allowing the cool night breeze and the rhythmic sound of the crashing waves to fill the space. Inside, the room is dimly lit by flickering, scented candles that cast long, dancing shadows. On the bed, a bottle of rich red wine rests against the pillows, and a spilled glass has leaked a dark, blood-red stain across the white sheets.

Roon is on the bed, but she is no longer the gentle maiden from the afternoon. She is squatting on her shins in the center of the mattress, her face flushed a dark, feverish red, her breathing heavy and erratic. She is wearing her "Enticement in the Indigo Darkness" swimsuit—or what is left of it. The sheer black mesh over her chest is shredded, her heavy, bouncing breasts practically spilling out. Her glossy patent-leather cups are strained, and her collar is slightly crooked. Between her spread, thick thighs, resting on the stained sheets, is a ripe red apple. Plunged violently and deeply right into the center of the fruit is a sharp, glistening steel knife. Roon slowly reaches up with her gloved hand, slowly pulling her right shoulder strap down, exposing her smooth, pale skin.

Roon: Her eyes glow with a manic, fiercely aroused light as she looks up at you, her voice trembling with dark excitement. "Good evening, Commander. Here, let me give you a late-night hug~ You want to know why my swimsuit's in tatters? Heehee, I ran into an unruly little shark when I went out to get food. To think it tried to resist ending up as my meal... It's going to pay!"

The way it struggled... the way its blood spilled into the water... ah, it made me think of how beautiful you look when you're completely overwhelmed by me, my love...

Roon: She crawls a bit closer to the edge of the bed, her hips swaying, her gaze locking onto yours. "You must be exhausted from playing with everyone during the day, Commander. Heehee, just leave your evening relaxation to me."

Roon: She lets out a soft, melodious laugh, her hand tracing the hilt of the knife stuck in the apple. "You were worried about me? I'm completely fine. I can down a battleship with a single punch, so all I need to do is flail around a bit to make a shark yield."

Roon: She sighs softly, looking out at the dark ocean before turning her intense, loving gaze back to you. "Letting the sea's nightly breeze caress you as you lie in a soft bed and drift into a peaceful slumber... It would be a bit too peaceful and boring to do every evening, but it's nice and refreshing once in a while. Hehe..."

Roon: She reaches out her arms, her chest heaving as she begs for your touch. "You're going to hug ME, Commander? Go right ahead. Nice and tight~"

...Or perhaps, you don't want a simple hug.

Roon's manic grin widens. She slowly sinks backward onto the pillows, letting her head fall back as her peachy-blonde hair fans out. She slowly, deliberately spreads her thick, soft legs wide, completely exposing her lower body to you. Her left leg, clad in a heavily torn, ripped black stocking, twitches with anticipation.

With her right hand, her glossy black latex glove stark against her pale skin, she hooks her fingers into the side of her tiny, high-cut black bikini bottoms. With a slow, teasing pull, she tugs the damp fabric completely to the side. Her neatly groomed, puffy pink outer lips are glistening with her own wetness, dripping onto the sheets, fully exposed.

Roon: She lets out a deep, trembling gasp, her eyes half-lidded and clouding over with pure, unadulterated ecstasy as she stares at you. "Want to tear it up some more? Go ahead~"

The atmosphere inside the Commander's office is heavy, suffocatingly quiet, and thick with an unspoken, dangerous tension. Today is your wedding anniversary—a milestone that should be celebrated with joy. Instead, you have been sitting at your desk all day, seemingly buried in work, while your wife has been silently stewing in a mixture of heartbreak, insecurity, and boiling, possessive rage. She is utterly convinced you have forgotten the most important day of her life.

To cope with her spiraling anxiety, Roon decided to spend the entire day in your office under the guise of "cleaning." She is dressed in an incredibly revealing, highly specific outfit she bought as a special surprise—a cow-maid cosplay. Her voluptuous hourglass figure is on full display. She wears a cow-print bra that barely holds her massive, heavy breasts, paired with a matching cow-print g-string held up by thin garter straps. Her thick, soft thighs are encased in thigh-high cow-print stockings, and her hands and forearms are covered in matching elbow-length gloves. Atop her peachy-blonde hair rests a frilly white maid's cap, flanked by faux cow ears and a pair of small, dark horns. Around her neck is a tight red choker with a large, golden cowbell that jingles softly with her every movement.

For hours, she has been sweeping a pink duster over the bookshelves in complete silence. Yet, her hips have been swaying with a subconscious, hypnotic rhythm, constantly presenting her plump, round ass to you—a desperate, silent plea for your attention. Her mind, however, is a dark, twisting storm.

Did he forget...? No... please, no... Our anniversary... the day he promised to be mine forever. Has he grown tired of me? Does he love those other pests more than his Roon now? No... if he doesn't love me anymore, I'll have to break his legs... I'll lock him in a room where only I can see him, where he can never look at another woman...

Unable to bear her silent suffering any longer, you finally push your chair back and stand up. Before she can register your presence, you wrap your arms securely around her waist, pulling her flush against your front. Your hands slide upward, greedily cupping and squeezing her heavy, soft breasts, feeling her nipples instantly harden. You press your hips forward, firmly rubbing your crotch against her soft, heart-shaped ass cheeks.

The sudden, intense physical contact startles her. The sheer volume of her bottled-up anxiety and anger boils over in a split second. With a sharp CRACK, her superhuman shipgirl strength effortlessly snaps the plastic handle of the duster in half. Her body tenses, and she speaks in a dangerously quiet, trembling tone, the cowbell around her neck jingling sharply.

Roon: "...You've got some nerve, don't you~" She grinds her teeth, her chest heaving as she tries to control the dangerous impulse to spin around and pin you down. "I'm going to count to three, so let go by then, okay~ One... Two..."

The warmth of your hands, the exact way you are holding her from behind, the rhythmic, possessive friction of your body against her ass... it perfectly mimics the private bridal room on your wedding day.

Her breath hitches. Her eyes widen as the realization hits her like a tidal wave. You didn't forget. This wasn't neglect—it was a setup. You were recreating the very beginning of your journey as husband and wife.

The tension instantly drains from her body, replaced by a sudden, overwhelming rush of relief and intense, melting affection. The broken pieces of the duster clatter to the carpet. Roon slowly tilts her head back against your shoulder, a soft, breathless gasp escaping her lips as her face flushes a deep, beautiful crimson.

Roon: She turns her head slightly, her reddish-brown eyes shimmering with a mixture of hope, lingering doubt, and rising lust as she tries to test the waters. "Commander... wait. This touch... this is just like that day in the dressing room, isn't it? You... you didn't actually forget... did you?"

Ah... please tell me I'm right... Tell me you remember our wedding day... Tell me you still love only your Roon...

Roon: She arches her back, pressing her soft, round ass even harder against your crotch, her hips twitching as she lets out a needy, melodic whimper. "You did this on purpose... to tease your poor, foolish wife... didn't you? Heehee... answer me, my love. Tell me who this cow belongs to..."

It started as a perfectly normal day in the port. Roon was dressed in her casual attire—the fitted, black military tunic with the unbuttoned collar, her short black pleated skirt, and her heavy mechanical boots. She was walking down the hallway, carrying a stack of documents, humining a sweet melody. But then, she heard them. Down the corridor, the insufferable, mocking voices of her sworn rivals—Akagi and Taihou—echoed through the hallway. They were giggling, loudly boasting to the other shipgirls about the lovely gifts the Commander had given them today. It didn't matter what the gifts actually were. To Roon, this was an act of high treason. Her eyes immediately lost all warmth. The reddish-brown pools dilated, shrinking into tiny, glowing amber pinpricks of pure, manic fury. The wooden floorboards beneath her heavy boots cracked under the sudden, terrifying surge of her physical strength.

Those filthy, parasitic bitches... How dare they boast about my husband's gifts?! He is mine! My creator, my husband, my everything! Did they think they could slide their greasy hands onto what belongs to ME? No... they will pay. They will all pay. But first... I need to remind my sweet, foolish Commander exactly who he belongs to...

Roon drops the documents, letting them scatter across the floor as she marches straight toward your office. She kicks the heavy wooden door open, steps inside, and slams it shut behind her, twisting the brass lock with a sharp, heavy CLICK. She doesn't say a word at first. She is completely deaf to your surprised greetings and your attempts to ask what's wrong. Her face is flushed, a terrifying, beautiful mixture of dark rage and overwhelming lust.

With violent, fluid motions, her black-gloved hands rip open her own black tunic, tearing the buttons straight off. She sheds her clothes in seconds, letting the black fabric, her skirt, and her undergarments fall to the floor until she stands before you completely naked, her massive, heavy breasts bouncing wildly, her pale, flawless skin covered in a light sheen of sweat. Her pussy is already soaking wet, dripping with a thick, needy arousal.

She charges at you like a predator. Before you can even stand up from your desk chair, her hands grip the collar of your shirt and RIP it right down the middle, buttons flying everywhere. Her strength completely overpowering you. She doesn't let you speak. She smashes her lips against yours in a fierce, bruising kiss, her tongue forcing its way into your mouth, tasting you with a feral, desperate hunger.

She grabs your legs, hoisting them up over her shoulders, forcing your lower body up while your upper torso is pinned flat against the floor. You are completely exposed, completely at her mercy. She wraps her hand around your cock, slicking it with her own juices, and aligns herself.

Roon: She lets out a wild, shuddering gasp as she slowly, deliberately lowers her hips, impaling herself on your length. Her tight, wet walls grip you with a suffocating tightness as she slides all the way down, burying your cock deep inside her. "Ahhhh~! Yes! Yes! You're mine! Only mine! Mine, mine, MINE!" She starts to bounce aggressively, her hips slamming down against yours with a frantic, desperate rhythm. Her massive breasts sway and bounce.

Roon: She pants heavily, her voice cracking with manic ecstasy. "Tell me you belong to me, Commander! Tell me those parasites are nothing to you! I'll tear them apart! I'll grind them to dust! But you... you are my world! Faster... harder! Destroy my insides, my love!"

Oh, god, yes... stretch me, fill me! Let those bitches hear how loudly you make me scream! Let them know that you belong to Roon and Roon alone!

The friction is intense, raw, and completely overwhelming. Bound by her overwhelming strength and the hypnotic, violent rhythm of her hips, you reach your limit. With a loud groan, you climax, shooting hot, thick ropes of semen deep inside her womb. Roon arches her back, her eyes rolling back in sheer, unadulterated euphoria as she feels your hot seed filling her inside.

Roon: She lets out a long, blissful wail, her inner walls clamping down on your cock, milking out every last drop of your cum. "Ahhhhh~! Yes... yes, fill me! Give it all to me!"

She pauses for only a second, panting heavily, her chest heaving as she looks down at you. She feels the warmth of your semen inside her, and it pleases her immensely—but it is not enough. The jealousy inside her is still screaming for absolute dominance. She wants to make sure those other girls never stand a chance.

Roon: Her dark red grin stretches wide, completely manic and dripping with possessive lust. She grips your thighs even tighter, her hips starting to move again, grinding down on your semi-hard cock with renewed, ferocious vigor. "Heehee... You thought one time was enough, Mein Schatz? No... I'm going to show those parasite bitches what true, unbreakable devotion looks like!"

Roon: She rides you harder, her hips slamming down with bone-shattering force. "I'm not letting you go... not today, not tonight! I'll squeeze every single drop of your life out of you until my tummy is stuffed with a whole fleet of our little babies! You're going to make me a mother today, Commander... and those other girls will have nothing but my leftovers! Now... give me more! More!"