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#mister fantasic
lumirin-art · 2 years
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Fantastic Mr. Fox :)
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thespunkyknight · 9 months
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what is in the water. im SO frisky lately.
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back2bluesidex · 7 months
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Bad Idea - JJK (18+)
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Pairing: Jungkook X Fem!Reader
Theme: PWP, SMUT, Fluff, established relationship au
Wordcount: 1.4k+
Summary: Accepting Jungkook's invitation to watch him train topless was such a bad idea.
Warnings: Rough sex, sex on a bathroom counter, doggy style, Jungkook is jealous, name calling, little bit of degrading, Jungkook cums on her ass, reader is kinky about Jungkook's back, unprotected sex (wrap it up). NSFW!!
Minors are not allowed in this blog!!
A/N: Sorry but I couldn't help.
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It was a bad idea. 
Accepting Jungkook’s invitation to watch him train was a bad, actually very bad, idea. Because now you are having to clench your thighs tightly thinking of the feeling that you might feel by raking your nails through Jungkook’s toned, thick, manly back. 
You adjust your position in the seat a bit, rubbing your core on the leather of the seat cover in the process. 
This is just pathetic. 
Rubbing yourself off (with the help of inanimate objects) while watching your own boyfriend and being unable to do anything about it, is just so pathetic. 
You gulp your own drool each time Jungkook’s muscles flex. Fuck. This is getting unbearable. 
“He’s sexy, isn’t he?” One of Jungkook’s trainers comes out of nowhere and takes the seat beside you. 
“I - What? Excuse me?” You don’t know what to reply, especially when he is complimenting your boyfriend, who is indeed very sexy. 
“I said Jungkook is sexy.” He smirks at you. 
“Oh yeah. That he is.” You turn your face towards your boyfriend again. He still has his back turned towards you. But your eyes met his, through the mirror. 
“That’s why he has such a sexy girlfriend all for himself.” the man chuckles in a low voice. 
What the fuck. Who is he after? You or Jungkook?
“Who are you after Mister? Me or him?” You raise one of your eyebrows at him. 
“Maybe both of you?” he replies nonchalantly. 
“What-” you start to speak but get cut off instantly. 
“Hey babe. Could you please help me a little?” Jungkook stands right in front of you with his sweaty half naked body glistening under the white light of the gym. 
You smile up at him understanding that he is here for your rescue. But fuck. You probably thought too soon cause his eyes are darker and there is a tick in his jaw. 
You gulp again. 
“Sure. Tell me what can I do?” you mutter, standing up from the seat. 
“Follow me.” he says with a voice a few octaves lower than his usual one. 
So you do what fits best for you. You follow him. 
“Can you take one of the damp towels and wipe my back?” Jungkook should be requesting you but the tension in his voice makes the sentence sound more like an order. 
You take the said object and walk towards the restroom counter where he is leaning forward to give you a good access to his back. 
“What’s wrong? Why do you sound so mad?” You whisper, wiping a strip of his back. 
That fucking back again. Your thighs rub against each other without you noticing. 
“He was flirting with you.” Your boyfriend growls. 
“He was complimenting you. Umm… actually both of us.” You keep on wiping the sweat off of his back. 
“What did he say?” Jungkook asks, his eyes meet you through the mirror again. 
“He said both of us are sexy and he is after both of us.” you gulp, yet again. 
Before you can register what is happening, Jungkook spins on his heels, holds you by your waist and interchanges your positions. So now you are pressed against the bathroom counter and his body is towering yours. 
“He has been eyeing you since the moment you walked in. That fucker thinks I have not noiticed. I gotta tell him who you belong to.” His right hand travels south and grabs your ass harshly. You wince a little at the impact. 
“He has been eyeing you too.” you murmur. 
He smirks, “Mark me then. Tell him that I am only yours.” 
The offer is tempting indeed and you can’t help but fantasize about scratching that back of his. So you quit waiting and crash your lips on his. 
Jungkook kisses you back immediately. He sucks your lips so hard that you fear they might bruise afterwards. His tongue pokes inside your mouth in order to taste you more deeply. 
Granting him access, you warp your hands around his midsection. 
His back is so toned, yet so soft that your nails dig into it in their own accord. 
Jungkook groans into your mouth clearly being satisfied with your scratches. 
He detaches his mouth from yours, a string of saliva connects two of you now. “You think I didn’t see you trying to rub that cunt on the seat? Huh? You dirty little girl.” 
“Not my fault when you have 90% of your body on display like that.” you fight back. 
Jungkook chuckles, “Then why don’t you take the rest of the 10% too? Hmm?” 
His hand leaves your ass and reaches for your exposed inner thigh. It dives down into your skirt without any warning and heads for your clit. 
Jungkook hisses, finding you very wet already. He rubs your clit through the thin material of your panties, arousing you even more. You tilt your head back in pleasure and Jungkook takes the chance to paint bruises all over your neck and collarbone. 
You moan his name as he bits down on the crook of your neck. His fingers slide through the seam of your panties and poke into your entrance. 
You roll your hip to reach out for his teasing fingers and hit his growing bulge with your upper belly in the process. 
“Fuck, Y/N” Jungkook groans “I need to be inside you.” 
You nod somehow, “me too. Fuck. I need you too.” 
“Turn around for me.” he commands and you comply without wasting any time. 
Jungkook pushes your face down on the counter by placing a hand on your neck and holds your waist to still you with another. Once he is satisfied with your position, he hooks two of his fingers on the waistband on your panties and pulls that down. The article of cloth pools down on your ankes and you kick that off readily. 
He hikes your skirt, exposing your ass. 
“God, I love this booty.” A slap lands on your right asscheek without any warning. 
“Ahhh fuck-” You wince in pain mixed pleasure. Jungkook parts your legs and spreads them open. His tattooed arm rests on your ass and the other one tugs his shorts and boxers down revealing his erection. 
Oh how you wish you could see Jungkook right now but the way you are positioned, makes it impossible even to take a look through the bathroom mirror. 
Jungkook pumps his length once and then pushes the head of his cock into your slit. The tip brushes through your clit making you moan several incoherent words. 
“Are you ready to take me in, babygirl?” he asks, rubbing your clit with his tip once more. You nod urgently. 
He collects some of your slick on his tip before pushing his length into your hot, wet core. Once he is midway in there, he pulls his cock back out and slams it all in one go. 
Your body jerks up with the sheer force he has put into his action. 
“Can I move now?” Jungkook whispers into your ear, reaching down to your face and placing a kiss on your temple. 
“Y-yes pl-please.” you manage to reply. 
Jungkook starts moving slowly but he soon takes up an erratic pace. His pelvic area slams into your ass with each thrust he forces into you. 
“Fuck f-fuck Jungkoo- feels s-so good.” you drool on the counter. 
“Yeah? My cock feels good? That’s why you suck it so well, you dirty bitch?” Jungkook’s hoarse voice only adds up to your pleasure by tenfold. And naturally, you feel yourself getting close.
“Gonna c-cum.” you announce. 
“Cum on my cock pretty girl.” Jungkook’s fingers find your clit as he starts rubbing figure eight vigorously. 
“Fuck fuck fuck” and with that you cum on his cock. 
Your legs feel like jelly, you know they might give out at any second. Probably jungkook knows that too, hence, he wraps his tattooed arm around your waist and fucks you into overstimulation. 
Once his thrusts loose rhythm, you feel him twitching inside you. 
“Fuck. We are not using condoms.” Jungkook groans. He pulls is cock out of your hole, jerks it once and cums all over your ass. 
His thick whiteness drips down your ass and thigh. Some spills on the floor, some drops down on your snickers and some gets soaked by your socks. 
Jungkook cleans up both of you, tugs himself back into his boxers and shorts and then helps you in getting into your underwear like the good boyfriend that he is. 
“Let’s go home.” He pulls you into his embrace and kisses the top of your head. 
“Yeah but you will have to carry me ‘cause I don’t think I can walk.” both of you chuckle heading for the door.
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Taglist:
@phenomenalgirl9 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @soraviie @sukunabitch @chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel @chimmisbae
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ryunnggg · 3 months
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Naughty - ITZY Yuna
9230 words
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"Is it time for my detention, Mister Y/n?" cooed Yuna, strutting forward across the classroom and flaunting the Q heart on her cheek, an out in the open sign of her lust for white cock while she moved happily forward.
The door was locked and the hallways had finally emptied. It was likely only Yuna and Mister Y/n left in the school, give or take the janitor and some loose teachers sequestered away to feverishly grade. Nobody who could get in the way, letting the brunette sway and swish between the desks on her way toward the front of the class. "Time for me to learn how bad a girl I've been, and how much I need to be fixed?"
"It's only us here, 'Y/n' will be fine," said Mister Y/n. A substitute teacher from America working abroad to see Korea, about a decade older than Yuna. Handsome, decently muscular, very white, with a well kept beard and slicked back auburn hair. "It's just us."
"If I'm not calling you my teacher, maybe I should call you daddy instead," purred Yuna, rushing faster across the classroom to get to him. "Maybe you should pull out your huge, white cock and force this disobedient little Korean jailbait slut to get on her knees and choke on it. For detention! To teach me a lesson, Mister Y/n." Yuna leaned over her foreign teacher's desk, smile brightening as she wiggled enticing toward him, begging for his attention. "Don't you want to discipline me?"
Yuna was a danger. She was too powerful, coy and ruthless and fully able to weaponize her raw sexuality against Mister Y/n. Not that he minded, of course. "I think I need to hear some things out of your mouth to be worth disciplining," he told her, his hardening cock begging to slide into her mouth and ruin her.
"Oh? Like what, sir? Like saying I'm a filthy, needy Korean slut who can't keep from fantasizing about her American teacher's fat, white cock? That I'm a little bleachbitch who is going to find foreign men to fuck her throat whether it's you or not? Is that worth punishing me, Mister Y/n? Does the threat I'll go find other hung white studs to bleach my pussy and fuck some white babies into me make you angry enough to punish me?"
Yuna was unreal. Y/n had absolutely not come to Korea to teach solely so that he could date a Korean teenager, but he was absolutely unrepentant about doing so, rising up from his seat with his cock freed from his pants. A massive, throbbing, glorious, white cock that Yuna leaned immediately forward to begin to worship. No hesitation, just her mouth clung to the side of his shaft and slobbering all over it, praising it with kisses and hopeless obsession as she fell into the joy of what she needed most. Yuna understood what she was, what she wanted, and she didn't try to pull away from that, accepting and embracing her desires fully.
"I love white cock," she moaned, a little drunk on excitement from the very start. The burning desperation urged Yuna forward, licking all over her teacher's aching dick, already hard from her words and from just knowing what 'detention' after school entailed. The sloppy spectacle behind her love and her hunger was overbearing, direct, driven by an underlying desire to blow his mind and make him crave her on a level so fundamental that he'd never shake it off. Yuna knew her part and she knew how to wear him down for that, slobbering noisily on his dick, peppering it with kisses in a hazy show of wanton adoration. Her kisses ran along the length of his cock, messily praising his length. "This cock fits so deep in me. Only white men can hit girls in those places."
Y/n didn't try to contain himself, his head rolled back and his fingers running along the back of Yuna's head, trying not to take too much charge too quickly. He was absolutely unrepentant about these joys, about having this sweet girl doting on his cock and lavishing him with all the praise she could muster, so sloppy and loving and intense. Yes, she was closer to half his age than to his age. No, he didn't care. The burn of these spectacular lusts carried him deeper, kept him hungry for her touch and ready to feel her give him everything. "Should girls your age really be such bleached sluts?"
"Yes, of course!" gasped Yuna. "We should. We all should. If Korean teenage girls didn't bother with silly crushes on disappointing Korean boys and went right to serving white men, we'd be so much happier." She continued to flutter her kisses all over his cock, throwing in licks and sloppy adoration, both hands gripping his massive cock to continue tending to it and to continue delving in to the slow-burning surrender that this offered her. Yuna felt unstoppable, wanting only to push on harder, hotter, to let the sloppy lusts carry her into the deep end. "I'm so lucky that I have a big, strong, white man who fucked my jailbait pussy before I could give my virginity to any two-pump three-inch Asian boys."
Every word made Y/n's cock throb harder, drove him mad with desire. He wasn't exactly holding back or discouraging what Yuna was up to, but the weight of these wild pleasures definitely did to him things that felt maddening for how intense they were, how hotly the wants shuddered across him. He didn't try to fight it. He didn't resist her words or her touch. But the weight of just how intensely she delved into bleached talk and hard raceplay on a dime was always a bit staggering to him. Not that he didn't also encourage her along. "I saved you."
"My white savior," she moaned in turn, licking slowly up along the underside of his cock, toward his head, before she sucked it down deep, letting the lust carry her to the pleasure and the fever of senseless excitement now without restraint. The pleasure was just there to give in to, maddening in a spiral of devotion and lust to succumb to. The thick cock filled her mouth, made her jaw loosen to take him all in, but she was devoted and determined, forcing herself to sloppily revere this glorious white cock, to lose herself to what it demanded from her. Yuna was so ready to please, so hungry for white dick, and she wasn't able to pretend she could contain herself along her hunky, foreign boyfriend's length.
She pushed deep, hasty and sloppy, relentless in how she pushed onward to let loose the wicked satisfactions that she craved. The pleasure carried her to need this, to crave whatever she could get from the depths of these satisfactions now. It was pleasure she didn't feel able to process, struggling through these wants and through the need for warmth that this invited her to fall in to. Yuna felt unstoppable, every moan and push and slurp making her white stud feel better, want her more. She looked up into his eyes, saw the stares she received back, and everything he offered her made her burn brighter. Her desperation was unreal, and as she let him hit the back of her throat, Yuna remained committed and unstoppable.
"You're such a dirty slut. I need to keep you here in detention with me, so you don't go looking for strangers to bleach you instead." He grabbed the back of her head, finally taking some harder charge, forcing her deeper down his cock, easing into more of her throat.
Yuna was happy to choke him down, happy to give herself up to these sloppy, wild delights with less and less restraint with each passing second. She was unstoppable, ravenous, burning with unreasonable desperation and a need to let the pleasures carry her deeper. There was no resisting this, no fighting how nice it felt to give up fully. She needed to surrender to these lusts, giving in deeper to his touch, letting herself be the hazy, ditzy bleachslut she knew she was. Signaling with each motion of her head just how ready she was to serve him, Yuna let obsession consume her. It was easy to get into the right frame of mind to mindlessly be a slut for white cock. Especially Y/n's. The teacher before her was fully deserving of the most she could offer, prepared to submit in full, to accept how far down into lust she was ready to slide, unable to resist the allure and the chaos of surrender and desire now.
Throbbing harder in her mouth as she gave him what he wanted, Y/n tried his best to contain himself. "Such a dirty little whore. I see you in class, daydreaming about raising my kids, giving up on your idol life to be a white man's slutwife. You want it so badly, don’t you?"
"Gluk gluk," was all Yuna offered in response, continuing to slide down into the lust of his demanding touch, continuing to fall apart with less and less of a clear idea how to deal with her own ruin. Yuna didn't understand how she could have so easily crumbled to one cock like this, but it was all she cared about, the rightful plunge into beautifully demented surrender and a lust carrying her to need to give in. She was obsessed, devoted, bleached past the boundaries of reason, fully obsessed with her teacher's cock and with drooling all over it, fitting him into her mouth and bobbing along his shaft, letting her throat adore every inch of his shaft in impressive, relentless desire. Yuna felt unstoppable. Felt ready.
The bliss carried the moment into deeper, compromising fever, into pleasures that she was unable to resist or hold back. The pleasure just kept ripping across her thoughts, tearing with thunderous joy through her body, carrying Yuna to want to fall to pieces and to need whatever she could find in his touch now. The sucking did its work, tending to every inch of his cock, slathering it in spit, encouraging the wild, mad throbbing in her throat that told her that she was well on her way to tending to all of this. It was a beautiful feeling, a surrender to pleasure and desire she didn't try to hold back now. The pleasure felt outrageous, but she knew that as good as she felt sucking him off, Y/n felt at least as good getting this relentless deepthroat adoration.
Probably, right? Y/n had to enjoy having his cock sucked as much as Yuna enjoyed sucking it, at minimum. Y/n himself wasn't even so sure of that.
But the continued reverence and sloppiness and spectacle behind Yuna's deepthroat worship kept up a pace as reckless as could be, and Y/n didn't know if he could contain all of it.
Hotter groans carried him deeper in to these wicked pleasures, the need to continue to surrender to, all driven by the want that made him want to fall to pieces. "I'm gonna cum," he warned.
Yuna was happy to jerk back, smiling bright and welcoming his load. "All over me, daddy," she whined, jerking his cock off with both hands, moaning in sloppy reverence, serving his needs deep. "I want to wear white cum all over my face, like a good bleached whore," she moaned. She continued to tend to him, jerking him off faster, harder, throwing herself in to these wild pleasures. She didn't hold anything back, every stroke reckless, forceful, direct,
until he came all over her face. Hot ropes of gooey spunk splattered across her bright features, with Yuna moaning through all of it, her eyes shut to receive his massive load. Y/n always came hard, always made a gooey mess of her, splattering across her face with unbelievable desire.
With spunk dripping from her face and a shaky warmth washing over her body, Yuna needed only to surrender deeper. She licked some cum off of her lips and grabbed at his body, not satisfied yet. She wanted more.
"Can you take me home tonight?" she asked. "To keep an eye on me. Make sure I don't do anything. Maybe..." She leaned forward to plant more kisses onto his cock head again. "Maybe fuck a white baby into me. Please, Mister Y/n. I'll do anything. I'll eat your ass like a good Korean girl and make you so happy that you have to take me back with you."
An offer like that wasn't one any man could have been strong enough to fight. Turning quickly around, Y/n pushed his hips back and got a knee up onto his desk, leaning forward to show off his ass, his dangling balls, and his spit-shined cock to his teenage whore. "Do it," he told her. "From the moment I showed you my cock and you fell to your knees instead of calling the cops, I knew you were something special. Prove how special you are."
Yuna didn't need to be told twice. Shoving forward, she buried her face right into her favorite treat: white man ass. Grabbing his cock to stroke it and milk a load out of him, she got to work at licking against his rim slithering with her sloppy love across his ass, letting the wild desire carry her to want more and more of this. There was no restraint to hold her back from the sheer depth of her lusts now, carrying her to just have to give in to these lusts, to surrender to what she knew was the absolute only way forward.
Her tongue slithered around in broad strokes tending to the ass with hopeless obsession. This wasn't the most dignified way forward, but she needed it, moaning loudly through her feasting delight, committed to being consumed utterly by need and sloppy desire. Lust carried her to want to fall to pieces, to need to surrender to lust. Yuna loved eating white ass, and she threw herself into it with the gusto that such a glorious thing deserved. She rubbed her face in his ass, moaning, slobbering, letting her cock drunk lust carry her in serving him 'properly'.
"Such a good little ass eater," he groaned, reaching back to grab her head and pull her in. Yuna loved praise, and the more he gave her, the better she performed. It was a clumsy balancing act, something carrying him to want more and more of these lusts. There was no escape for Yuna, but she didn’t want any escape. She wanted to keep pushing, keep slobbering, keep revering this white man and giving him everything she could. The burn of these desires were too steep not to.
"I love slobbering all over my white man's ass hole," she moaned, sounding territorial and greedy while licking down to begin slurping on his heavy nuts, too. She was happy to pepper kisses all over his taint on the way down, reckless, ravenous, driven by a desire only to keep serving and slobbering. The pleasure continued to do to her things she didn't care about resisting, the unrestrained joy and greed to fall in to. There was only pleasure to give in to here, drunk on the sweet surrender and the delirium of needing more. The continued surrender to give in to offered to Yuna what she needed most. She sucked one of his balls into
her mouth and left his sac slathered in spit too, insisting herself into the moment as hard as she could. "Keep going. Keep telling me how good I am at serving white men."
"How about the fact I haven't fucked any of your classmates, because you're such a perfect bleached whore that I haven't needed to look for another girl?" He ground back against her face, savouring the ways she made him feel as she licked back up his taint to make out with his ass hole again. There was no restraint for Yuna, no moment where she could hold back or imagine controlling herself, letting the burning hunger carry her to a further depth of ruin and desire now. She needed to keep slobbering and serving, tending to his ass harder. His words made her lose her mind, the 'kind' praise of something that urged her harder forward, kept her desperate to make him feel all the things she hoped might help her fall to pieces now. The greed carried her to a lot of weirder places, to a satisfaction and a hunger she couldn't do anything about.
The sloppy lust carried her to need more of him, slurping on his ass hole while she jerked his cock harder and quicker. Switches down to lick his balls kept things fresh, surprising him with the messy fever of what she was at, delving on these pleasures and keeping up with something meant to make him burn with need. Yuna felt clingy, needy, burning with a desperate desire to make him feel good centered around the worry that if she didn't, he'd go find some other girl to bleach, and she could not let that happen. A little jealous, a little territorial, keeping up her passion. "Korean tongue feels best against white ass holes, doesn't it, sir?" she moaned.
"The best, especially yours." Gripping the table and keeping steady so she could work at his touch, Y/n was lost to these pleasures, struggling to hold himself together as she jerked him off faster and harder, both hands mercilessly working to tend to him while he fell in deeper. She was a complete wreck, but the pleasures continued on with burning excitement. Yuna was happy to not rat him out and to not bring him any trouble for exposing himself in front of one of his students, keeping her as his girlfriend. Yuna was desperate for it, ready to please him and ready to give him everything he desired. She was happy to keep him giving in, happy to tend to his every desire and to lick his ass hole like a good slut.
There was simply no way that Y/n could have let a girl like her go. Shuddering through these hopeless pleasures, allowing passion to be his undoing, he gave in deeper, messier, unable to resist the pleasures that continued to ruin him in the name of losing himself. "You're so fucking good. Keep going, Yuna. You're the best. You're going to--oh, fuck, you're the perfect Korean girl."
That made her moan like she was cumming, just from the pride and the glee alone, throwing into a beautifully deranged burn of passion, the pleasure carrying her to fall apart utterly under his touch, giving in to the pleasure in full, accepting it as all she could do, the unrelenting joy of crumbling to pieces for him. For a white man. For her white man. She jerked him off faster and she relentlessly tonguefucked his ass in pursuit of more of that praise and of the chance to make him erupt all over her again.
With a sudden groan and a twist around, Y/n smacked Yuna across the face with his cock in trying to turn himself around as quickly as he could. The impact didn't shock her too much, and Yuna did her best to take it, moaning appreciatively and allowing his cock to blast across
her face with another messy load. More cum that splattered onto her beaming smile, keeping her overjoyed to be giving up to all of this. She took the facial in pride, loving the feeling of his cum all over her face, the dripping mess she received and the joy that she found in so wholly lost to this. Yuna savoured everything about this mess, jerking his cock off and making sure she wrung out every drop before drawing back with a gasp of pure delight.
"I can go home with my white daddy now, right?" Yuna asked, dragging cum off her cheek with her fingers and licking it off. "I've been a good girl and earned it?"
Y/n stared at Yuna with cum dripping down her face, knowing full well that there was only one answer to that question.
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Down on her knees in the car, there wasn't much for Yuna to do but suck his balls. Hidden under the steering wheel while he drove home, she hadn't actually wiped anything off of her face, leaving all the clear mess of her lustful, slutty surrender right there on the spot. It just made her feel better that way, slapping herself with his huge cock while she sucked on his balls, slurping noisily on them and giving them some devoted love, having rimmed his ass hole and deepthroated his cock already otherwise. The insistence and the raw desire behind this was all so simple, so direct, built on Yuna's hopeless hunger and just how badly she craved white cock.
"Fuck, you make it hard to focus," groaned Y/n, trying his best just to drive and not go off the road even with the gorgeous idol slurping his nuts. It was an amazing burn of pleasure, the heat to keep giving in to, pleasure enticing him to want more and more of this. There was a pleasure to this to keep giving in to. It was pleasure direct and messy and enticing him to just need to sink in to this. All of it. Dragged into the weirder pleasure to continue falling in to left Yuna needing to give up to this. She shook under the wild pleasure to give in to hotter, the satisfaction to want more and more of. "Such a perfect slut. You were born to be bleached."
"All Asian women are," moaned Yuna, slapping his cock across her face, keeping up the pleasure and keeping up the huger and the fever of wanting to give in hotter, needing more of these pleasures that continued to plunge her into this, deeper and sloppier fever that continued to sentence her to this demise. She didn't try to contain herself now, keeping up this pace and keeping the pleasure burning across her. Messier fever and fire continued its desires, and she let the passion carry her deeper in to all of this, a hungrier fever and a passion she just wanted to embrace in full. The unquenchable desire continued to do to Yuna things she couldn't resist, giving in to all this lust and falling to pieces under what it demanded from her now. She needed it, and nothing could hold back her cravings.
The taste of his balls drove her wild. Yuna didn't care if she came off like a sloppy addict. She didn't want to be anything less, didn't want to even pretend she had a capacity now for restraint. There was only the satisfaction of giving in to this, craving whatever he could do to her and accepting how ready she was to just give up to it. Everything inside of Yuna craved this singularly obsessive burn, a moment of devotion and fire she didn't try to resist.
Everything she did was direct, sloppy, burning up within her as she pushed against it now. Sucking on these heavy, white balls let Yuna focus on how full they were, how ready to blow
they surely were. On the idea that what she really needed was to give in fully to these sloppy spectacles. It was everything to her now, a dead end rush of lust burning her up from within.
It was only ball worship, but it was also reverence of a white man's ability to breed girls like her. Even after blowing two loads all over her face, Y/n’s nuts felt so heavy, so ready to blast rope deep into her womb. White men were so fertile and indomitable, and she praised his nuts, knowing they were the key to blowing her mind and making her feel all the sloppy, wild emotions that she craved so badly. Yuna didn't care about restraint, needing to push forward, needing to accept the surrender inviting her to fall to pieces. It was just too good not to, the sweeping desire and delight of letting this plunge carry her into depths from which she was never going to escape. That was good. That was how she wanted it. With every sloppy push forward, Yuna focused herself on tending to his balls, on slapping herself with his cock. Just out of view, she tended to her teacher's cock, ready and sloppy and surrendering everything to these pleasures now.
This was impossible for Y/n to focus through, but he was so happy to let the pleasures carry him on deeper in to this mess of ruin and hunger. The pleasure remained so insistent, driven by the sloppiest of passions, by desires to keep riding out. The pleasure kept him hungry and reckless, driven by the sloppiest of passions, needing only to seek out how good it could feel to let everything go. There was only pleasure to this mess, the pursuit of ever-sloppier, ever- filthier lust. There wasn't a shred of restraint behind her devoted, throbbing passions now. He was such a lucky fuck, and he didn't pretend otherwise, letting Yuna's every doting push keep him well adored, tended to with unbelievable excitement, needing to savor these sloppy lusts and every desire that came with it. Letting Yuna adore him was the only way forward, the only possible relief he could have wanted, and it carried him to need more. To crave it. To let himself give in.
Smacking herself silly with his cock and letting her thoughts fall apart, Yuna kept up her sloppy attention, moaning harder on his balls while she slobbered all over them. "I'm going to drink your cum this time, because I don't want you to stop being able to see my pretty face under all this cum. I want you to know you're fucking a gorgeous Korean teen with every stroke, daddy." Her 'daddies' were strategic little missile strikes to drive him mad, and they kept working perfectly to drive him mad.
Y/n took one of his hands off the driving wheel and grabbed her head, shoving her deep down his cock. Yuna said she was going to drink it, but 'drink' implied she would swallow. Y/n didn't let Yuna swallow, forcing her to deepthroat his cock and pumping into her with unrelenting greed, the pressure and the chaos of fever that pushed her over the line. She struggled through letting him pump his load directly into her stomach, the moaning ecstasy carrying her in hazy surrender and a beautiful madness she didn't have any idea how to resist this. Maddening pleasure carried her to fall fully to pieces under the pleasure of all this pleasure, the heat of needing to just give up to all of it. It was a brilliant mess of desire and need and hunger to give up to, and she didn't have a prayer against it.
"We're almost there," he told her. "Just stay down there until I stop, okay?"
Yuna was happy with that, suckling on her daddy's fat white dick like a hungry little baby pig. She would have been happy doing this all day instead of having to suffer with actual class work.
******************************
Back at Y/n's, Yuna was happy to immediately fling herself to her teacher, stripping herself out of her clothes and unveiling the luscious mess that her body had become. Red ink all over her fit idol body made clear what she was about. The Q-laden heart on her cheek was only the beginning of the mess she'd made of her body. There was the row of heart vines along her thigh, the words 'WHITE BABIES ONLY’ lovingly rendered and framed in floral accents to serve as a womb tattoo. Hearts and roses and motifs around them enshrined other phrases like 'RACE TRAITOR', 'HAPA FACTORY', and 'BREED WHITE' all over her body. One of Korea's top idols had on hiatus and almost immediately covered herself in red ink glorifying white men, something that Yuna was unabashedly not ashamed of.
Especially when it made Y/n look at her like a piece of meat.
The tattoos were Y/n's idea. He was the one who'd corrupted her into this, the one how had bleached her and pushed her to just fall completely to pieces, showing her the tattoos American women got to signal their devotion to white men and then helping Yuna book appointments to get herself covered in them. She was unashamed of all of it, proud of the mess made of her body and how readily she wanted to give in. Not that Yuna minded covering herself head to toe in these appreciations, of course. She adored all of it.
"Aren't you happy that you've tamed me into a good bleachbunny for you?" asked Yuna, pushing Y/n down onto his bed and ripping at his clothes. "I'm such a dirty little slut for white cock now. I can never return to the stage looking like this now. Korea wants its idols to pretend that Korean boys are worth anything, but I'm just a white man's whore. I can't pretend. I won't pretend. Korean holes should only be filled with white cocks. Korean men shouldn't fuck Korean women; they should only watch superior men fuck them."
"God, you're perfect," Y/n groaned, groping Yuna's perky tits and her taut ass, adoring her body while he eyed all of her tattoos and all of the utterly demented lust behind all of this. There was a pleasure to these feelings that absolutely nothing was going to resist now. "I don't think you could say anything that could make me harder than what you're saying now."
Yuna licked her lips. 'There's one thing," she said, fishing his cock out and looming above it, her cunt dripping from all the oral worship she'd given him to get to this point. Her body shook in wild appreciation of these joys, the lust pulsing across her with unrelenting desire. Her smile widened. "Do you want to hear it?" she asked. 'I think it'll excite you. I think it's just what a hung, white stud here to fuck jailbait Korean girls wants to hear."
"Please," he groaned, not user what it was but trusting fully in Yuna's demented ideals, knowing that whatever she was about to confess to him would be unbelievable. He continued to knead her ass and her tits while awaiting the sweet surprise.
"I've gone off my birth control, daddy."
Yuna followed up the words with a wild slam down onto his cock, taking every inch of white dick into her tight, teenage hole, moaning in hopeless desire as she got to work at taking him in. Her moans were outrageous and desperate, driven by the absolute sloppiest frontiers of obsession now. Up and down she went, throwing herself into ravenous surrender to his cock. Up and down she moved, needing to give in to this, embracing the sloppy lust of everything
she craved. The Her body was ready, sloppy, pushing on for the most reckless of desires, keeping up pleasure and fever she needed only to let take her. It felt so good, so insistent, and she didn't care about holding back from it, didn't want anything to hold her from these lusts now.
"Fuck," groaned Y/n, lost to the immediate weight of her desires and what she wanted. He seized her hips tightly, guiding her up and down on his cock with unbelievable greed, the desire carrying him to need whatever he could get from this, her pussy squeezing around him. "Does that mean--"
"Yes, it means I want you to knock me up. I want to be a traditional Korean slutwife for you. Only you. I want to tend to your home, respect you, submit, and worship your foreign cock. I want to carry your white children and I want to fulfill my purpose. As a woman. As an Asian. As an Asian woman. I need to be yours." She was desperate, shameless, slamming harder onto his cock with merciless devotion. 'That's why you came here, wasn't it?"
"Not just t--"
"Not 'just'. You craved teenage Korean flesh so bad, and you didn't even wait a week before you pumped a load into me. You want this. Don't fight it. I want it, too. I'll give up on being an idol so I can come be yours instead. It's all I care about." Yuna let her hips work wildly up and down atop his lap. she was full of love and devotion, needing to give in to this and craving whatever she could find from it, throwing herself to want more and more of this, the pleasures carrying her to crave him with all she had. There was just no good way for anything to contain her now. Wildly riding his lap and carrying on with all she had to tend to him, Yuna knew that this was the way forward. The way to make him happy, and to change her life.
This was unbelievable. Y/n stared at the broken little cockslut he'd turned Yuna into. He'd never imagined she would so easily become so hard bleached. There was no doubt; she'd immediately converted over to it and let it become a lifestyle for her. It was either a testament to how amazing his cock was, or to how ready Yuna was for BWC to dominate her. maybe both. Maybe they were perfect for one another, destined to come together so his white cock and her race traitor pussy could find one another. It was a beautiful decadence and a chaos to keep giving in to, pleasures demanding only the hunger and the fever to keep pushing for more of.
Yuna was an unstoppable beast, a creature of lust and hunger and desire pushing her to want to give in. she didn't care about restraint, the irresistible chaos and the passion she wanted to keep her wanting more and more of. Pleasure and indulgence carried her to keep needing more, keep pushing in to these maddening lusts. There was a pleasure and a want to keep giving up to hotter. Every slam down onto his huge cock kept her needing more. "You should really consider putting a ring around my finger so that I never ever run away. You could even get me a collar instead, if you wanted to. A nice little diamond choker with a heart on it. Anything to prove I'm your bleached pet."
Every precision strike tease drove Y/n madder. His cock throbbed in hopeless, smoldering greed, keeping up a feverish desire and a hunger to keep wanting more and more of this all. There was no restraint behind these wicked lusts, keeping up the chaos and the passion to keep indulging in, embracing the hungers he wanted more and more to give up to. There felt
like absolutely nothing to give in to hotter, the wilder mess of these chaotic throbs, a lust tearing across him and keeping up wilder hunger now. The pleasure kept up its pace of pure hunger, wanton and sloppy and keeping up with this all. There was a pleasure to give in to hotter now. Her body felt unstoppable, driven by a sloppy momentum carrying her to just want to give up to all of it, needing to embrace these absolutely demented lusts now, desires and hungers she couldn't get enough of.
Moaning in hotter, hazier surrender, Yuna loved being such a sloppy bleachbunny for him. Her eyes rolled back, moans stuttering and shivering through these hopeless lusts. Keeping up the pace here imposed something upon Yuna that felt truly beautiful now. She didn't want it to stop, didn't want anything to hold her back from these devotions now. "White cock is the best. I need it. I need you. Knock me up and make me your wife already, what's keeping you?" She continued to greedily slam down onto him, unstoppable, imposing, demanding that he fuck her and fill her. There was no restraint for Yuna, only the dizzying surrender of satisfaction to keep chasing, and she was happy to keep up with it, to push him, to demand from him everything.
How could Y/n possibly resist? He slammed her down on his lap in maddening greed, desire carrying him to want more and more of these wicked pleasures, sloppy fever to give in hotter to. The unreasonable, overbearing ecstasy drove him to need this, every craving pushing him along until he just lost all control. Senseless, sloppy, hungry, he slammed up into her, pumping into Yuna with shot after shot of gooey cum that drove her over the line, keeping her needing this in fully, sloppier hunger keeping up the pleasure beyond reason. It was a beautiful mess of hunger, the heat to continue to give in to deeper. There was a pleasure behind these unreal and unreasonable devotions, the tremble of shuddering lust to just give up to utterly.
"Breed me, breed me! I want my white babies. The best thing a Korean woman can be is the mother to white children!" Her screams of sloppy obsession carried her to need this, craving the hunger and the fever of desire she didn't try to resist. Cravings consumed her utterly, and Yuna wanted to give up to all of it, delving in to the hotter of passions now, keeping her needy and sloppy and lost to the purity of hunger upon her. There was nothing she wanted to do but give up to all of this, the more and more imposing lusts she gave in to fully. The warm, gooey cum set her off, made her gasp and shudder through wilder passion, the pleasure she let carry her to the limit. It was an unbelievable hunger to need more of, giving in to this lustful heat without a shred of reason or dignity now. There was just pleasure to all of this, the burning fever to want more and more of. "Breed me again."
Yuna was happy to twist around and turn toward him, shaking her perky ass and showing off the big white heart on her ass cheek that read 'WHITE OWNED' with a crown. It was the kind of sight that could make Y/n’s thoughts go a bit crazy as he lurched forward. He meant to slide right back into her pussy, but as her wiggling, tatted-up ass advertised itself as white- owned, Y/n decided he wanted to go for something else, ramming his huge, white cock up her tight little backdoor without a word of warning.
Squeaking in wild shock at the pressure behind it, Yuna didn't exactly mind. "Of course, you want to fuck my ass, too," she moaned. "I don't mind, we'll get back to breeding again." She worked against him harder, happily tending to these sloppy devotions, her hips working to
meet his thrusts and to give in to the wildest of her desires. "Every part of me is made for you, and I'll be a good wife for my white man by letting your cock dominate all of my body. I'll learn how to cook American meals and give you them while I give you head, just like a white man deserves!" The sex was just a step in the process now, devotion carrying her along.
Yuna felt like she needed to just embrace these wicked and depraved ideas now, sloppy indulgence and obsession that carried Yuna to let herself go. She didn't care about these relentless passions now, the pleasure to keep her falling in to deeper, the hunger and the fever of giving up to all of this. The pleasure didn't leave a shred of sense behind now, the pleasures carrying on the sloppier fire and the chaos to want more and more of. Her hips shook and slammed back, feeding the needy heat pulsing across her body, tending to Yuna's every desire and hunger. she didn't want to slow down, needing to feel whatever she could get from this sloppy spectacle, greedy and lost and lit up with the fierce indulgence and desire that could turn a girl dumb. She didn't want to slow down in the face of this, needing only to let the pleasure carry her deeper, to feel this huge, white cock rearrange her guts.
"Can't help it," groaned Y/n, ramming up Yuna's ass with all he had, seeking the sloppy embrace of single-minded lust and the need carrying him to want to just go all out. It was too much pleasure to contain, the burning fever and ferocity that demanded he do everything he could to give in to this. It felt like everything he needed. "You could be famous, but you want to be my whore wife instead."
"Pleasing a white man brings me something so much better than being famous ever could," she whined. The pleasure enticed madder pleasure that she needed more and more of.
Unrestrained carried her to need to give up to all of these excitements, the passion to need more and more of. Unreasonable, unreal desire carried her to crave this now. Her tight ass got stretched out even harder than her cunt, and she knew she wanted only to give in to all of this, needing to surrender to these joys in full, keeping up the sloppiest of passions and joys now. The pleasure demanded that she succumb utterly, melting under the burning ecstasy to continue sinking in to.
The bed creaked and heaved a little bit under the force of wild doggy style anal, pounding madder into her. Drunk on these desires and sinking into the lust, Yuna didn't want anything to slow her down, carried on into the sloppier, deeper chaos to give in to, struggling through ideas of burning ecstasy that she continued to fall in to now. The pleasure was relentless, ferocious, burning across her and inviting her to just need to succumb to all of this. Yuna knew what she was about, and she knew what she wanted, embracing all of the hungers to carry on with hotter. There was no good way to handle these ideas, pleasure and chaos that carried her to want more and more of now.
"My whole body is bleached. I'm such a dirty slut. I'm such a naughty whore for white dick. I'm so happy that you're the white stud who broke me in, but I was destined to be a dirty whore for white men. It's what any Asian woman is made for. It's what we're born for!" She squealed out in hotter chaos, the surrender of delving in to these wicked ideas, pleasure to fall in to deeper, every craving igniting inside of her the purest of devotions and lusts now. It was what she needed most, and everything about these drunken joys drove her over the line now. "Do you like my tattoo? Once I'm done having my first baby, I'll let you choose what my other ass cheek gets." She twisted and giggled through this sloppy delirium, through a
continued need carrying her to want this all. She felt the unstoppable desire rip harder across her.
"I'm going to fucking cover you in them," he groaned. "Your presents will just be finding new ways to cram ink on your body to say you're a white-owned cockslut." Y/n didn't try to resist it, didn't pretend otherwise. Wilder greeds drove him to want to ruin her, to keep up pleasures that felt madder, sloppier, like a wild rush of burning excitement, the burning wickedness of needing to break her down completely. The utter depravity carried him to want to burn her up hotter, sending her into sloppier fires and lusts that continued to push her along. "I knew I'd take a girl in my class and turned her into a white worshiping whore, I just didn't think you'd be so easy."
"Any Korean girl would break if such an amazing, white cock broke her in. I know it. I'm just the lucky girl too pretty for you to resist. Now turn me into a Korean housewife who's loyal to her husband. We make the best wives. We're obedient. Respectful. Reverent. My white god will never have anything but pure love from me."
All of Yuna's babbling and whining urged Y/n to just let himself go. He remained unable to care about restraint, without a choice in the hard, mad slam forward, pumping into her with relentless joy. He came up her ass, flooding her ass with a hot load of molten spunk, sending her into the thrashing, shrieking joy of an overdrive she fell in to hotter, loving every second of burning greed now. It was unbelievable fire, the ferocious joy that she was able to give in to in full. Yuna thrashed, ached, gave in to these hotter spectacles and a passion that she didn't care about holding back from. The irresistible fever carried her to crave this, and she just did not care about restraint.
The cock pulled out of her ass, and Yuna shuddered. 'SO big," she whined, dripping with his cum from both holes now. "I can get bred again now, right daddy?"
Yuna turned around to face Y/n, eager and sloppy and hopelessly committed to getting what she wanted now.
But Y/n’s cock was starting to soften. A white cock had the stamina to go all night, but it did need a few breaks. "Maybe after dinner," Y/n said, slumping back against the bed. "You did make me cum five times since school ended and it's... I don't know what time it is, but it's not that late."
No. No, that was not acceptance. Frowning and pouting, Yuna stared at the softening cock, slowly falling down. Not shrinking much, though. Her teacher was huge even soft. But she wouldn't let him be soft, and she had to throw herself into the hopeless joy of grabbing his cock and licking it all over. She didn't care about going ass to mouth. Nasty bleached sluts did whatever it took. "No," she whined, licking and kissing all over his cock, tending to him with the burning fever and the desire carrying her to want more and more of all this. The pleasure carried her to crave these joys now, satisfaction and lust driving her into the deep end of fever and ferocity.
"You're such a desperate little whore," he groaned. "Does having white babies fucked into you matter so much?'
Yuna didn't answer, staring up at him with tempestuous, pouty fury while continuing to slobber all over his cock. Of course it did! He knew it, too. He was just teasing, but his teasing was working. She continued to lick and kiss all over his cock, her sloppy reverence carrying him to give in to this, urging him to give her what she wanted.
Slowly but surely, he hardened up against the desire aching across him. Yuna didn't hold anything back, and the raw sexual delight of seeing this desperate little Korean teen slave over his cock drove him mad. How could he not get hard again? His cock rose to attention, every groan he let out one of pure delight at the sheer control he held now over her. "Such a good little slut. You want your babies?"
"Yes," she whined.
"You want to get bred white?" "Please."
"You want my white cock to colonize your little race traitor pussy and pump you full of white babies so that you can start your life as a bleached housewife the second you graduate?"
"It's the only thing I want!" she screamed.
Y/n threw her back down onto the bed and slammed upon her from above, his cock forcing its way with brutal insistence into Yuna's pussy, starting up on the wicked satisfaction that it took to absolutely ruin her. Powerful, feverish slams rattled her to her core, made Yuna shriek as he got back to pounding her cunt, fresh off of a little reminding and a little fluffing.
"Own me," she whined, her legs kicked up into the air for this mating press, letting his body come crashing down upon hers. So powerful, so harsh, so ready to make her melt under his touch. Yuna felt drunk beneath its daze, wanting to continued to let these passions urge her deeper, unable to resist how good it felt to just let go. Everything about these sloppy needs encouraged her to want to collapse, and she didn't care about anything but white cock as he took her. "I'm yours. I'm yours. I'm yours!"
"That's right. You're mine, and you're never going to stop being my little bleachslut now. Ricebunny whore. Jailbait cocksucker. I'm going to marry you the second I'm no longer your student."
The words made Yuna shriek with wild joy, the passion madder and sloppier, carrying her to want to give in to this now. She was powerless against these devotions, passionate hunger to keep giving up to, continuing to surrender herself to this and wanting to give in to these pleasures now, the deeper ferocity that she was ready to give in to deeper now. There was no restraint behind these ideas, hunger and sloppy desire she wanted more and more of now.
There felt like no good way to handle these frustrations, chaotic fire and desire too ferocious to be able to handle. She needed this, craving his touch and wanting to give ever deeper in to the idea of losing control.
Her legs pressed tighter against his sides, drunken whines continuing to ring out in brighter desire now. Yuna felt powerless, the hunger sloppier, wilder, carrying her to need more and
more of this. There was only devotion and desire to this mess, and she was ready for this. All of this. She needed to give in, and she needed to surrender herself to these maddening lusts, carried into pleasure and want she didn't know how to resist. It was a relentless passion to carry on with, giving up to these lusts to give in to deeper now.
This was an addiction. Unable to contain herself and knowing that she was a sloppy wreck giving up hotter by the second, Yuna simply couldn't contain herself, couldn't care. She gave in to these desperate lusts, ecstasies ripping across her madder and wilder now. Drunk on these lusts and ready to give up fully to this mess, Yuna fell gleefully to pieces, lost to this hunger and lost to the sloppiness of ecstasy that tore her utterly to pieces now. "I need to get bred,” she whined. "Please. Please. Babies. Let me brag. I'll get it tattooed on me. All over. Breed me white and I'll cover myself proudly in it. It's all I want." She was a dizzy wreck, thrashing under the lust and the heat of needing to simply give in to all of this, the pleasures she wanted to break under fully.
Unrestrained greed carried Yuna to want to just fall to pieces, succumbing to pleasure desperately demanding that she break down in full. There was no good way to handle these passions, and it became a pleasure she just couldn't resist. The pleasure was unreal, a sloppier fire carrying her to give in deeper to this now. The pleasure carried her to want to fall utterly apart here. The pleasure was truly spectacular, and she didn't want it to hold her back. There wasn't anything to do but gave up to all of this, pleasures demanding that she fall apart in full. It was beautiful, desperate, reckless, and she just gave up to all of it now. She had to. Yuna was drunk on the bliss of betraying her race, and her pleas were hopelessly committed to the most demented of surrenders.
"Fuck," groaned Y/n, who struggled to hold himself together long enough to actually get into this groove. The pleasure was relentless and feverish, sloppier pleasures he knew he needed to give up to deeper. The most ravenous of these lusts demanded more from him, keeping up pleasure and want that continued to give in deeper now. There was a pleasure that didn't feel sane, senseless and wicked. "You're unreal."
Yuna squealed hotter. "That's all I can get? One of the most famous idols in Korea is your bleached cumrag, and all you can call me is 'unreal'?"
"You're the perfect fucking woman!" he hollered, throwing his head back, cursing, thrashing, giving himself up to this hotter. The burn of noisy hunger and fever drove him over the edge, all sense melting away in the throes of these pleasures. He came hard, pumping her full of cum and letting loose the sloppiest of his desires now. Relentless, hungry, thrashing wildly about, he let loose the hungers that drove him mad. It was pleasure as desperate and as forceful as he could have handled now. The sloppier and hotter chaos continued its demanding hungers now.
The words sent Yuna shrieking into another orgasm, sloppy and noisy under the wild satisfaction of just needing to give in to this. It was everything to her now, the pleasure to carry in to hotter. The ever-sloppier chaos drove her mad with hunger, and she just had to accept the sloppy desire and ecstasy of wanting all of these wicked passions now. Her cunt squeezed down around his cock, and her screams of desperate drunken fever carried her to the limit. "Daddy daddy daddy daddy bleach me!" She was lost her mind with joy; this was
the day she had been waiting too long for, and she wanted to give up to these wicked desires, a pleasure she wanted to succumb to utterly, and she didn't pretend she was even remotely capable of reason now.
As she came around his cock and screamed for this, Y/n happily gave in to the morally dubious ecstasy of these pleasures too, giving up to all of this and embracing the utter ecstasy that kept hitting him hard. His cock erupted with wild joy, needing to fill her up, throwing all sense away and allowing senseless joy to be become everything now to him. The pleasure wasn't real, wasn't sensible, and all of these ideas became their undoing. He held her down to the mattress and pumped her full to the brim with cum, sending her into the collapse of all sense under the sheer satisfaction of what he needed most now. This was his time, the beautifully deranged passion he wanted more of, and he just would not hold himself back from all of it.
"Groaning, aching, shivering atop her, Y/n groaned, "I’m going to fuck you all night. Pussy only, to make sure it takes. But dinner." He pulled out of her. "First, we get some dinner."
Yuna nodded happily. "I'll make you something," she cooed, ready to get good practice at being the wife that he deserved.
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valuunit · 8 months
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Mums don’t cry
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Summary: Y/n’s mood changes and sicknesses happen to be more than just that.
lmao i don’t know why i put that tittle, but The Cure rules.
Content: soft husband!harry :DD pregnant afab!reader, use of she/her, mention of food and vomit (pregnancy symptom), la la land spoilers(?) and that’s it ig.
Disclaimer: English is not my first lenguaje so if there’s any mistake i’m sorry, i’ll try to correct it.
“No, i’m staying with Y/n, she’s not been feeling good. Enjoy though, oh! And bring some tiramisu.”
“ ’M sorry, H” she said struggling to stand up from the bathroom’s floor.
“No, no, there’s nothing to be sorry ‘bout. Now come here, i’ll help you clean yourself and we can go watch a movie. You said that watching Ryan Gosling everywhere made you want to bing his movies.” Harry kneeled in front of her offering his hand.
“Mhm” Y/n said without any sign of excitement. Her hand reached the toilet’s chain and released her sickness before lean into the sink and wash her mouth a total of four times.
“Think that enough, you’re gonna get sick again if you keep pulling the brush all the way down your throat.” he chuckled taking the brush out of her hand.
“Wait, throw it in the trash, please.” she said before shoving some more water in her mouth.
“But it’s clean.”
“It’s not, but i’ve had it for over 3 months.”
“Okay miss.”
“It’s Missus, Mister.”
“You feeling better, Missus?”
“I think, it was probably all the crap i’ve been eating.”
“The holidays are for something, don’t you think?”
“I guess.” her mood “I’m sorry.”
“I told you, you don’t have to…”
“No, i’m sorry for being so grumpy this past few days, i don’t know what’s happening.” she said as some tears began to accumulate in her eyes and her head goes to her husband’s chest.
“Oh, honey, don’t worry, it was part of our vows, being here through thick and thin, right?” he grabbed her cheek and smiled warmly, with her blurry vision she just saw a charming white downward D but she returned it.
“Love you.”
“Love you too.”
“Now you can see me fantasize with Ryan Gosling.”
“No problem, i’ll do the same.”
They giggled like toddlers and went to the kitchen for some snacks.
“Some popcorn will do it?” said Harry grabbing a package of microwave popcorn.
“Yeah, although is there a peanut butter and chocolate? i’ve been craving some of it.”
“Hm, we have a package of truffles but no peanut butter…”
“It’s okay, all perfect.”
“Well, what do you think of you picking the first movie and i’ll be there when these are ready.”
“Okay.” she gave him a peck kiss. “This is like the honeymoon all over again.” and began to walk to the lounge.
“I hope we never leave that stage.” Harry said loudly making sure she heard. She blew him a kiss and sat on the couch.
Y/n grabbed her phone to google in which platform was La La Land on. She didn’t even knew if the villa’s TV had more than 3 streaming services.
“Already picked one?”
“I’m checking where is it.”
“I bring you some water, i like my woman hydrated.”
He let out a little laugh “Thanks, love.”
They snuggled in the middle of the couch and concentrate in enjoying the movie.
Everything went well, they got to the point in the movie that showed what would’ve happened if they had ended up together.
Harry made a pout, watching the montage of the couple having a kid, but beside him Y/n began to sob, but in a concerning way.
“Everything okay, love?”
“Y-yeah, it just...” she went quiet to hear the final notes of song that Sebastian was playing in his bar. And led out another sob. “It’s so sad, because they loved each other, b-but they couldn’t make their dreams come true if the stayed together a-and they will always love each other…”
“It’s okay” Harry couldn’t help but feel a mixture of concern and a little bit, just a bit, of fun, watching her being so invested in a movie that they’ve watched several times. “Sometimes that’s how life goes.”
“What a bullshit life we live in.” He audibly laughed at that, remembering the joker memes, she also laughed “Okay, i heard it.”
And just like that she was laughing like anything happened.
“Wanna see another movie?”
“I don’t know, ‘m tired.”
“Wanna go to bed?”
“Yes please.”
When they were getting up of the couch Y/n felt sick again, she ran to the nearest bathroom and let it all out. That took Harry by surprise, one moment he was folding the blanket they where using and talking about other movies and the other he was grabbing his wife’s hair.
“Don’t know what’s happening to me, H. It feels like something more.” she rested her back into the cold wall opposite to the toilet
She recalled when she was sweaty and exhausted she blamed italy’s sun, when her mood changed drastically she blamed her personality, when she felt disgust out of nowhere and ended up vomiting she blamed the food and spices she was not used to, but everything as a whole was sign of other thing.
“Like what?” Harry said concerned thinking of the worst.
“I-i… i’ve been feeling weird lately and all my symptoms are, you know, hm, signs of pregnancy.”
“… Like what?” he repeated too shocked to say other thing.
“Mood change, um, craving could be described, the constant exhaustion, vomit…”
“Want me to go for a test?”
“What if paps catch you?”
“Who cares about them?” he said excitedly, this could be one of the happiest days of his life, and he couldn’t wait.
“Pr team, probably.” Y/n said tired.
“Well, I think they’ll understand. You’ll be good on your own? O could ask one of the guys to get a test on their way here.”
“I’ll be good, also we aren’t certain if i’m… pregnant, don’t want to alarm anyone and I’m pretty sure they’ll be back ‘till midnight.”
“You’re right. Well, i’ll be right back, honey.”
“Thanks.”
Harry literally sprinted to the nearest corner store as soon a he closed the villa’s door. Not caring of anything else, he ran through a fairly small business, not more than 5 minutes away, or that what he felt, until he viewed the boxes he was so desperate for, he grabbed three different ones and ran to the cash register, an old man smiled kindly at him. The interaction was short but cute.
When Harry grabbed the tests the man said to him "Buona fortuna." (good luck). With Harry's poor italian he said "Grazie" and ran back to Y/n.
"That was quick" Y/n was waiting by the door when he arrived.
"I always am, hun…” Harry said out of breath.
Y/n laughed and grabbed the bruised boxes from his hands. "I'm nervous"
"There's nothing to be nervous about, love."
"Well, then, there I go." she let a loud shaky breath and entered the bathroom again.
"Love you."
"Love you too." her voice muffled by the door.
Harry was also nervous, but in a good way nervous, what a good timing, he thought, they been wanting to start a family since last year, well, since forever, but actively trying ever since. He remembered the doctor appointments, the times they had sex just because an app told them to, and the disappointment in their faces when the test were negative, over and over again. And now, they were the happiest they've been, he just finished love on tour, Y/n finished her second book and taking a vacation with all their friends and family.
"Har...ry, come in, please." he did so immediately.
"Everything okay?" his voice was shaky. The tests were all perfectly lined up on a counter all of them facing down.
"Yes, I wanted you to be here." she was crying again, but the smile in her face denoted happiness and anxiety.
"Remember that no matter what the tests say, we'll be fine, and keep trying if you want."
"Thanks." she muttered hugging him.
"Thank you" he hugged her back kissing her hair.
"Can you check one first, please?"
"Sure"
While still hugging her he picked one of the tests and checked. His heart stopped when there was just one line across the screen.
"Uhm, what does one line means?" he asked, wanting to be in the wrong.
"N-negative..."
Y/n pulled away from the embrace to confirm what Harry was saying.
"It's okay, we got two more left."
"Yeah." Y/n said not really expecting any different result. She grabbed one and Harry the other.
Y/n's test said 'Incinta 2-3 settimane*' And Harry's had two vertical lines.
"Oh god, this one say-"
"My phone! Where is it." Y/n said quickly.
"What?"
"I need a confirmation."
She opened the translator and typed the test's result, it gave 'Pregnant 2-3 weeks'
"Oh my god! What does yours says?"
"That you're pregnant!"
"This one too!" she jumped into her husband's arms rounding his waist with her legs.
"Two out of three." he said shocked.
"I'll take it. Tomorrow we could go to a doctor."
"I can't wait." he said happily.
"Neither can i."
"Thank you, thank you love." he kissed her nose.
"I couldn't have done anything without your contribution, love, thank you too." she cupped his cheek as he laughed.
"Let's go to bed, tomorrow might be a big day.”
Y/n, attached to him in a koala style, and Harry Styles went to the bedroom full of bliss and expectancy for tomorrow.
“Where were you guys all morning? We waited you for breakfast” Gemma said laying on a sun chair near the villa’s pool, where the radiant couple just arrived.
“Uh, went for some air.” Harry responded.
“Oh, how are you feeling, Y/n?”
“Much better.” Y/n smiled widely to her sister-in-law. “I’m going for some water, want some?”
“I’m good, pumping, thanks.”
“Gem?”
“I have some here, thank you, Y/n/n.”
Y/n walked into the kitchen with a happy pace and Harry admired her silhouette in that white dress he loved so much.
“Are you guys high?”
“What?”
“Why are you smiling so much? it’s creepy.”
“We’re happy.” he said jokingly annoyed. “Also, i have something to tell you.”
“Y/n’s pregnant?” Gemma guessed, siting straight and taking her glasses off.
“How’d you know?”
“I didn’t, but the pregnancy tests in the bathroom gave me an idea. Congratulations!” the siblings hugged tightly.
“Thank you!”
“You’re finally becoming a dad. Ahh!”
“I know, ahh!”
“Why are you screaming like hyenas in cocaine?”
“Y/n, congrats, darling.” Gemma hugged her.
“Oh Gemma, thanks.”
“You’ll be the greatest parents and i’m gonna be the greatest aunt.”
The three laughed. “I’m pretty sure you’ll be, Gem”
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Note
What would happen if instead of deku choosing his wide he choose shoto instead what would happen to his wife would he still go after her how would it play out too.
Thank you for asking
I really love this
🖤🖤🖤🖤
Yandere DekuWife Alternate AU
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by u/ryuutoshi2
What would have been if Deku had chosen Shoto? The former hero in training was rising in notoriety alongside him. Always there. Always supporting. He knew Deku as well as he knew Izuku. Unshakeable in synergy it felt right to choose him. Choose him over his first true love, who seemed oblivious to all his telling actions. Oblivious to the painful yearning of watching you blindly trample his desires. And the way you cheered him on when he shakily admitted his relationship with some mysterious gent.
“That’s…wonderful Izu! I’ll have to meet him one day!”
You wouldn’t. It would be then that he abandoned the civilian identity to be the largest supervillain to date: Deku. Hand-in-hand with his villain lover as they collectively brought chaos to the world of heroes. Only the inner workings of the UA could suspect who he was and some would follow him. A closed incident that would lead the few who cared: Inko and you to mourn Izuku Midoriya.
“...All he wanted was to be a hero…”
“Maybe in his own mind…he was…”
His heart still yearned for you to hide crumpled photos whenever Shoto entered the room. To him, it was just the pains of withdrawal. A simple case of breaking his routine of obsession, instead of obsessing with someone who so quickly reciprocated that same level of affection. For years he’d fight it, drowning out his thoughts and memories of you with lust, mass violence, and diabolical schemes that would bring despair to the heroes he frowned upon. 
It happens by chance that he’s undercover in the daylight of the city. Smirking to himself as he passes a small-time hero on patrol. This information grab would be easy. An orchestrated diversion that would put him in the position to grab the data in a populated place while his beloved counterpart attacks. It plays on the hero's weakness: the protection of civilians. It would have been perfect. 
“Alright, Mister what can I help you with?”
At the front desk of the intelligence, the employee he was supposed to subdue was you. Grown and gorgeous as the day he left, was (Y/n) (L/n). The woman he spent years chasing and fantasizing over. 
He’s starstruck. Stuttering and flapping his lips as he’s reduced to the sweaty, overheating, obsessed dork you couldn’t see the feelings of. Ever patient you don’t rush him as he struggles to do anything–eating into the time he should have spent completing the mission. 
The sound of rubble crashing and the distorted laughter of his lover–Pyrodast rang out. The screaming and running began, and the swarm of panicked employees created the perfect chaos to steal those documents. But he let himself be pulled by you, tucking him under your desk as you dutifully pressed a hidden button. 
“Alright sir. Please stay here I’ll handle this!” 
He was so caught up fawning over your determined glare he almost didn’t catch what you said. Reaching out to hold onto your arm, worriedly pleading that you don’t leave him. And like something out of a dream you hold his shoulder rubbing soothingly. Flashing a smile he feared he’d forgotten. 
“It’s alright I can handle this,” You reached your other hand past him unintenionally caging him. He fluttered his eyes fully prepared to lean into you and capture your lips only to be reawoken when you pulled back. Letting you stand up straight with a darker look on your face and sleek hi-tech power gun. Holding the weapon with ease you cocked the barrel continuing to smile the way only you did. 
“Besides, both me and my husband are heroes!” 
With that you began firing away, immediately making contact with high powered villain judging by the pained grunt. Alarmed and completely in shock he disobeys your command watching as his not so past love expertly dodges the stray pits of steam and fire from his current love. Moving with the agility and speed of a spider you distribute tear gas bombs to blast in the villain’s face. You duck out of the way for most of his confused attacks, seemingly almost subdued when the gloved hands of Shoto reach for your head. 
Izuku has half a mind to scream out and he does. Drowned out by a resounding explosion, the hero’s defense gives you the opportunity to roll out of the way. More heroes quickly arrive on the scene, sending Pyrodast into a desperate escape. 
Hurriedly coming from behind the desk he tries to spot you among the rubble left in their wake. And like the sun at the break of dawn, you rise nearly unscathed and yawning all the while. Stretching as though you just woke up from a successful nap you smile in the direction of the tattered hole of the building. 
“Man, Suki great timing! You just barely missed my amazing defense!”
“Tch! Like I said before you shouldn’t need to do ‘amazing defense’! Just leave the hero work to me, detective!”
“Aw Suki, you’re just jealous I’m so good at my job! I just can’t retire!”
“Grrrr!”
“Kehehehe~!” Watching you tease the explosive hero, laugh at his glare, and insults stung. Too much like old times, he’d been overwhelmed by that tight-knitted jealousy that came with everyone who should speak to you. Specifically with this man. Even more painfully surreal, in tears of his own, he watches you pull out a silver and black band. Slipping it around your ring finger and fiddling with it as you prodded at the hero’s patience. He notices the way those red eyes look at you with a satisfied fondness that didn’t exist way back when.
It's then that he recalls your words…it makes him shudder. With disgust? with malice? with envy? The pure incessant desire to murder? Katsuki Bakugo was who you were married to the hero who had saved him from judgment on the account of a last favor before continuing to pursue him alongside the board of heroes. He didn’t think he could hate the hero more. He was wrong and if he hadn’t been pinged by a worried Shoto he would have killed him. Stabbed from the back at speeds you’d barely register but he didn’t. 
Wobbly and downcast, he returned to the rendezvous point letting Shoto handle the report for the day. Heterochromatic eyes flashed worriedly toward the no longer disguised Deku. It wasn’t long before they shed their masks and latex, settling into their afternoon routine within the highrise home officially owned by the former hero tycoon Shoto Todoroki. 
He didn’t need to speak. Simply leaning over to rest his chin on Izuku’s head as he held his lover by the waist. Sniffing the dyed locks he gets so lost he almost forgets what he originally asked. Or how Izuku doesn’t turn around to wrap his arms around his neck. 
Instead, Izuku leaned back, letting his head rest on the front collarbone of Shoto. He couldn’t share this most jarring discovery, not while his thoughts were still jumbled. When he finally knew how he felt then he’d tell Shoto, so they both wouldn’t make irrational decisions. 
A shame he’d forgotten how deeply in-tune his lover was with his struggle. 
The moment he realizes his Izuku is sleeping in he zeroes in on the exact moment for the shift in moods. Calling his covert underlings to retrieve the camera footage of the building. Unfortunately the cameras had been wiped supposedly taken away after the visit of some group in black suits. Thanfully his team was able to kidnap lightly apprehend a civilian with an undeleted video of the incident.
“So this is…them?”
As Izuku’s closest confidant for years, lending his ears to his romantic woes was a given. Already bonded by the intimacy that came with villainy it was easy to slip himself into his arms. Whispering in his ear and sharing each other’s breath, Shoto made himself the prime owner of Izuku’s heart. Or so he thought. He once tried to track you down before, fully prepared to use the family hitman to guarantee Izuku’s love. But Izuku’s smart, keeping you nameless and eluding Todoroki's covert operation team. 
But now that there’s a video albeit grainy he now knows who you were. The wife of Katsuki Bakugo, a position highly covetted by celebrities and teens. It seemed like a covert marriage considering official registrars had him married to some nameless character. But the video has you smiling, teasing Deku's mortal enemy. How dare you?! After putting Izuku through all that stress and dethroning him in Izuku’s heart. With a roll of his eyes he makes a call and it's with one thing in mind. 
To kill (Y/n) Bakugo.
Which would prove a difficult feat when half his team was out of commission or under arrest.  Needless to say he killed them before they could spill but your invulnerability was a problem. Somehow involved with some of the highest forms of government it was hard to know what your official title was or how you could so easily debillitate his team. But that wouldn’t be a problem for the openly vengeful Pyrodast who could easily put a bounty on your head. But alas the news didn’t even bother to cover the mysterious disappearances of the newest up and coming villains. Shoto Todoroki didn’t lose. Pyrodast wouldn’t lose. He couldn’t believe that. But he would say he was stumped almost completely losing sight of his original goal. Getting too caught up in a rivalry created all his own he committed days to locking himself away quickly shutting his monitor off when Izuku came to check on him.
“Sho-honey are you doing okay? Those bags under your eyes haven’t gone away yet.”
“Y-yeah I’m fine. J-just trying to tie a loose-end.”
“Well…okay.”
He digs his nails into his desk as he watches his love slink back out of his office. Alright, that’s it! He’s putting an end to this himself, he’s spent too many resources trying to take down someone who should have been a minor kill. So he suits up in the darkness of his office expecting to turn around and pull that green book on the far end of the–
“Well Pyrodast, it’s been a while since I’ve had a man chase after me so earnestly!”
Quickly turning on his voice modulator he whips around finally seeing the woman he’d been trying to kill for so long. Brandishing a glowing saber and wearing a latex suit under a stylish trench coat, your outfit certainly left much nothing to the imagination. 
“Hmmm are you here to return the favor?”
“Only half-way I guess! I’ve always wanted to fight against someone with the Todoroki style.”
Gritting his teeth from behind the mask, he felt the hiss of the recorder as he yelled. 
“I HAVE NO CONNECTION TO THAT NAME!”
“Of course not, the public doesn’t already theorize about your true nature at all!”
“GRAAAGH!”
The battle is intense and Pyrodast makes every attempt to burn you alive but your agile wuick and you use your weapon to cut through the titanium leather of his suit. All the while you’re laughing still flashing that stupid smile even as he slams your body into an adjacent cabinet. More times than he could count did you have him pinned and forced to endure your punches and infuriating flicks. By the time he was pinned down once again he was too tired to pull himself up, simply reeling at the controlled penetration of your saber into his bulky mask. 
Feeling the seering heat of the laser he’s fully prepared to lose his nose but immediately you retract your blade. Jumping off of him to skip to the door, you hum to yourself. Waving your fingers like a conducter would the crescendo come when the door is slammed open by Izuku himself.
“Shoto! What the he–”
“Oh my! I didn’t expect to see you! Let alone living!” 
Izuku’s eyes widen as he looks to you and the nearly unmasked Pyrodast heaving on the floor. Without thinking a blush comes over his freckled face and he begins to sweat.
“(Y-y/n)!? Uhm–I–ugh!”
You walk past him unknowingly filling his nose with your scent to have him unconsciously leaning in your direction. 
“Don’t talk to me, I don’t know how I feel about this just yet but at the very least keep your hubby in check? You can only replace limited edition glass china so many times.”
Speaking so nonchalantly, Izuku once again froze in his place, jumping to attention when Shoto was attempting to lift himself up. Running to his side he supports him as he attempts to angrily shout at you. 
“I’LL-Ack! I’LL k-kill y-y-ou–agh! ONE DAY-ugh!”
“Sh-Pyro?!”
“Yeah yeah just know I’ll be sending an invoice for the damages you cost me. Toodles.”
As suddenly as you came you left pulling the green book on the bookcase behind you letting yourself take the tube directly to Pyrodast’s office lair. With a gust of wind you're gone leaving the villains to stew in your wake. Shoto struggled to tilt his head up, wounded by the overwhelming blush and needy look on Izuku’s face. And In pain and sheer jealousy he screamed into the sound-proofed office.
“(YYYYYYYYYY/////////NNNNNNNNN)!!!!!!”
____
“You look happy, case go alright?”
“Yup the lead was on the money and I even met an old friend in the end!”
“An old friend? Friend or foe?”
“Hmmmm who can say…how was your day, Suki-cracker?”
“Usual. Real quiet. By the way, those ghost peppers you ordered came in!”
“No way! Gimme! Gimme! It’ll be my celebration candy!”
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your-name-is-jim · 11 months
Text
Spock at the end of TMP: My task on Vulcan is completed
Kirk: *fantasizing about their wedding* Mister Sulu, ahead, warp one
261 notes · View notes
kieraplaysthesims · 6 months
Text
Calling All Sims!
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It's 1890 and in the small town of Brindleton Bay, Maine, USA, the fifteen year old Bea Dooley sits in her bedroom writing in her diary, fantasizing about the 18 year old fisherman she met in town that weekend. He had kissed her hand. He had treated her like an adult. Mama and Father saw her as the baby, only superceded by her little brother Henry. All her older siblings were grown and out of the house. Her eldest sister, Clara married. Her sister Lizzie and brother Jesse are both off in Britechester attending University, just a 1 hour train ride today. Father makes the journey every morning and evening as he is a well paid administrator at the University. Mama only cares about clothes and the latest fashions. She sees Bea as her own accessory, not her own person.
So Bea pines away, with only her journal to help her through the times...
Looking for sims to populate this save, would love lots of CC and looking historical. Will your sim be the handsome man, Mister Finch, a young fisherman, who has swept young Bea away? Or will your sim be her best friend as she experiences this world? Where in the Simverse will Bea and her mysterious fisherman end up? Chesnut Ridge to run a farm? Will it be Britechester where the two get an education before starting a family? Will they live for the hustle and bustle of San Myshuno?
Join the Legacy! Deadline is October 16th!
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fairysoobx · 2 years
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how would txt confess
pairing: txt x gn!reader warnings: brief cursing in beomgyu's part genre: fluff, brief angst for beomgyu's part
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» [fairy of shampoo by txt] « 1:27 ──〇─── 4:27 ⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻
yeonjun
i feel like he would mentally prepare himself to confess for a long time
he is the confident yeonjun we know
but he'll probably feel a little nervous too
he wants it to be perfect
and honestly he just wants to give you what you deserve
so he'd plan it out and even write it down in some kind of code in his calendar
like, literally it will be planned from A to Z
until you once hang out unexpectedly
you had a horrible day and just wanted to see yeonjun
so you meet and everything's back to normal
you guys were joking and bickering again
just in general, having fun
and the moment just feels right
and then he looks in your eyes
everything for him suddenly slows down
he feels the well known warmth and just how good he feels next to you
and just like that, he says it unconsciously
"i really like you"
you obviously don't know what to do
and then he suddenly sobers up but, weirdly to you, doesn't change his mind
he repeats it, as if you were the one being in trance, not him
"you better like me the same way"
soobin
god i don't know what would have to happen for him to confess
well obviously i know, cause i'm here now but you get it
he takes the teeny tiny steps as i've talked about earlier
and with every step he becomes more obvious to you
but just as our boy kai, he's oblivious and thinks he's so smooth
soobin, you're doing great sweetie
okay, oh boy let's be real
he got drunk
yeah this is what it takes for soobin to be more confident
maybe almost yeonjun-level confident
so our boy gets drunk and suddenly teeny tiny steps turn into freaking sneakers marathon
put my sneakers on, hana dul ready get set go
he's so obviously clingy and just so cute i can't
so he just clings to you wrapping his long arms around you and burying his face in your hair
you obviously think he's very cute and kinda make fun of him being so wasted and clingy
and then it happens!
"don't laugh at me, i just like you so much..."
needless to say, both of you are speechless
but soobin is more speechless because of the amount of alcohol in his blood system so
"please don't hate me"
the rest of the evening is just him whining about how much he doesn't want you to be mad at him and hate him for this sudden confession
beomgyu
this bitch
literally through your whole friendship he won't even say a thing ab how he likes you
and he's a person that would probably never tell you if it wasn't for a fact you two were arguing
beomgyu is a hopeless romantic, but he never even gave you a slightest hint that he's onto something
well except for the fact that he literally treats you the way he never treats anyone else but ok let's say you're as oblivious as sookai
he doesn't plan on confessing to you, he just wants to die out of his love to you
cause he's literally a pisces so rip
but then you get into an argument over something so petty and beomgyu turns into an angry emoji and becomes cold again
so you ask him why is he so moody all the time
and then, you hear the most unexpected thing
"well, maybe i'm moody cause i fucking like you?"
what
you both look at each other without saying anything
and then you understand why he was so moody whenever you mentioned anyone else or wanted to hangout with someone whose name didn't start with b and ended with eomgyu
he likes you
damn that's a whole lotta confusion i bet
taehyun
mister steal-your-heart acts kinda like beomgyu
doesn't want to show you his true feelings being scared of destroying things
but deep inside he is planning everything out
he fantasizes about confessing to you
he obviously changes his mind every five minutes about how he wants to do that
and then decides to just not confess to you
but he still fantasizes about this
he will want to let it go on it's own living the "if it's meant to be it will be" mindset
and then one day you two are hanging out in his place
and start flirt-joking as always
you say something like "are you in love with me or something" while joking
and he, instead of laughing, looks at you all serious
and says
"and what if i am?"
jaw on the floor, i am dead, goodbye
his answer leads you both into a deep conversation and his "joke" turns out to be truth
hueningkai
we already know, he's whipped for you like crazy and his feelings to you are pretty much obvious
but this kid is too scared to confess anyways
even just thinking about it makes him nervous and stressed
deep inside of him he hopes that you will be the one confessing to him
even though he's a leo, he's just straight up shy
but don't worry he eventually admits he likes you
otherwise i wouldn't be there
he just needs a little help
you once met taehyun, kai's friend and he literally begged you to confess to kai or whatever cause he's so tired of hearing kai whining about how he likes you but doesn't have a courage to confess
so you take matters in your hands and invite kai over
you were extremely clingy and cuddly which made him really happy
but it still didn't make him confess
so you decide to go with the most stupid but also easiest way to make him confess
"why does no one ever like me:( i must be so ugly:(("
kai looks at you shocked that you don't think you're the most beautiful creature in the world like he does
"you're not ugly!! and that's totally not true!!"
you look at him and ask "why"
"b-because... i like you!"
JESUS CHRIST BINGO
he's all shy, his face is red and you obviously act all shocked like you didn't know that he likes you all this time
but our boy is also happy he finally said that:')
♡︎❀☆
sorry for any spelling mistakes hope you liked it <3! my requests are still open if you want to request something!! ~ jules
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kissofthemis · 5 days
Note
AU where Giann returns and mc falls in love on sight, (poor Marius)
A clean, composed canvas. Every brushstroke carefully measured, every color meticulously selected.
Marius von Hagen was the sort of person who prepared every aspect of his existence in advance. In his position, he could not afford to not be over-prepared, as he was painfully aware that he had more enemies than friends. Whether the target was Pax, Z, or even just Marius himself, the amount of targets on his back required the young man to anticipate every possible situation, every possible outcome, and every possible next step... and to plan accordingly.
Of course, even the Pax Group's CEO was a mere mortal, and he could not account for the occasional obstacles or stumbles in his path. Even Marius von Hagen, of all people, could be taken by surprise. Usually he was able to fix those sudden little splatters and jagged strokes, covering them with his own colors and incorporating them into his greater picture.
Today, however?
Buckets and buckets, mismatched colors and hues, shades of all kinds, drowning the once sensible, orderly painting.
A torrential downpour of chaos descended onto Marius' precisely curated canvas, throwing his mind and his world into disarray.
When the door to the NXX meeting room cracked open, Marius had fully expected it to be Vyn trudging in late. As haughty as the psychiatrist could be, he was notoriously not a morning person, and Marius had made it his personal mission to give Vyn grief every time he was not exactly on time. (Perhaps more accurately, when he was not at least 3 minutes early. Was that unfair? Perhaps. Did Vyn deserve it? Absolutely.)
But the man who stumbled into the room was significantly taller, with hair significantly darker, and a face that was significantly less punchable.
Everything around him faded and dimmed, to backgrounds not fully developed as he focused on the person taking center stage in his painting. He thought Rosa might have jumped up behind him, but her startled words as she clung to Luke were not discernible. Luke's voice was mere static in Marius' brain, but he sounded angry and accusatory.
A figure moved out of the corner of his eye; judging from the size and colors, Artem. Of course, Artem would know who had just intruded on what was supposed to be a private meeting, for a top-secret group.
But Marius was not going to allow anyone to make a move before him.
All of the young heir's senses returned at once, and he darted forward, pushing his long legs to their limit so he would be the first one to the newcomer's side.
Much to his relief, Artem did not stop him.
"Giann!" Marius cursed himself internally for the way his voice cracked, for showing an ounce of weakness, but he would just hope that the other three people here would extend some mercy. "Giann, you're home!"
After all, his beloved older brother had been off the grid for so long, and now... and now he was in Marius' arms again!
Marius flung his arms around his brother, causing the older von Hagen to wince slightly. But Giann did not retreat; instead he leaned into Marius' shoulders and returned the embrace, albeit weakly.
What a funny scene, for Marius to be holding his taller, older brother like this.
"Sorry for making you wait."
"I'll tell you how to pay me back later."
Now that he was grounded, now that he knew for a fact that the person in front of him was his dear brother, now that he knew he was not dreaming or fantasizing or hallucinating or reminiscing, the rest of the background began to seep more fully into Marius' mind. He was able to transform the mismatched buckets of colors, weave them and brush them and mix them into something new. It was not what he had envisioned, these hues or shapes or patterns, but it was his. He could handle this again.
He would be stronger with Giann here, after all.
"Giann?" Rosa's voice was clearer now in his head. "Mister Giann von Hagen, sir?"
"How do we know it's actually him?" Luke's wary words came out in a low growl, and Marius whipped his head around immediately to provide a stinging retort.
"I also know Giann, as I worked with him on the NXX cases prior to your arrival," Artem reminded the others calmly, "and while I appreciate your caution, I do not believe it is necessary, Luke. That man is undoubtedly the real one."
Marius made a mental note that he owed Artem for speaking up on his brother's behalf.
"Mister Giann von Hagen, sir!" When had Rosa approached? Her footsteps were so quiet, despite the way her eyes were glowing with wonder and her body was practically quivering with excitement. "Ah, I mean... please pardon my interruption!"
"No need to apologize. If you're here, then I know you are a person who both Artem Wing and my brother trust." Giann straightened up to his full height (much to Marius' chagrin), giving Rosa a polite but feeble smile.
The way Rosa began bouncing on her tiptoes did not escape Marius' notice.
"Jiejie..." Marius whined as he adjusted his position, still standing (nearly) shoulder to shoulder with his brother. "You never address me so politely... I'm just Marius to you... just the brat... You don't even call me King...."
"King?" Giann echoed. "Is that the codename you chose for yourself?"
A deep flush illuminated Marius' face, stretching from ear to ear and covering him in a faint red glow. "I... For the Pax Group and our family name, obviously! I had to do them justice, you know!"
"Obviously. I know."
Still reeling as he tried to recover from being mortified by his brother in front of the woman he had a massive crush on, not to mention the other two dorks on the other side of the room, Marius averted his gaze.
But even without looking at Rosa, he could hear the excited lilt in her voice and imagine the way she was beaming as she continued to speak. "Marius has spoken so highly of you! I have had no doubt in my mind that you must be a wonderful person, and it is such an honor to meet you, sir!"
A gentle laugh left his brother's lips. "No need to be so formal. Clearly you and Marius are good friends, so you are already a friend of mine."
Good friends. Marius felt as though a paint scraper had been stabbed into his chest. "Let's sit down, Giann," he urged. "You seem really exhausted."
Giann did not argue, instead allowing Marius to guide him to the couches and seats further in the room.
"I am so sorry!" Rosa piped up as soon as they sat down. "You clearly need time to recover! Any of my questions can wait for a later time!"
Giann waved his hand dismissively. "I don't mind. Really." He smiled, with soft glow like that of a sunrise about to brighten up the world. "I want to learn about you. And about this young man, too." He nodded to Luke.
Whether Luke ever got to speak to Giann that day, Marius could not recall. He was too focused on the way in which Rosa's eyes sparkled, in the way in which she leaned forward when Giann spoke, in the way in which her hands fiddled nervously with the edges of her sleeves, in the way in which her left foot tapped with a mix of eagerness and anxiety, in the way in which her voice hummed when she responded to his questions, in the way in which her chest seemed to tremble as her rapid heartbeat burst against her ribcage.
She did not only bask in the glow of Giann's warmth and glory, but she returned it in full force.
Oh. Of course.
Giann was the true genius. Giann was the true leader. Giann was the go-getter, the organizer, the one who people loved. Marius was only ever a substitute, an inferior stand-in. Whether as president of Pax, or as a member of the NXX... Marius was never meant to stay. Marius' job was simply to ensure that nothing fell apart, and to keep Giann's name in good standing. To ease Giann's transition back into his rightful role when he returned. Marius was just... a child, a dreamer, an idealistic fool.
No wonder Rosa was enamored with Giann. Maybe she even loved him, or would love him soon.
A blank canvas, devoid of color, light, or life.
In all fairness, Marius preferred Giann von Hagen to Marius von Hagen, too.
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reels-and-wheels · 2 years
Text
Broken Wings - part 2
tag list || spotify playlist || ao3
(prequel) || part 1 || part 2 || part 3 || part 4 || part 5 || part 6 || part 7 || part 8 (fin.)
Pairing: Hangman x female!reader
Summary: when the Top Gun pilots are called back to Miramar, Jake "Hangman" Seresin is confronted with a broken heart he left behind the last time he was there.
A/N: This takes place in a universe where the Top Gun class is called in for the same mission but the way they meet is different. English is not my first language so mistakes will happen. Not beta'd.
Warnings: smutttttt - oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (don't do it folks), minors get out, this ain't for you
Words: 3.4K under the cut
this time might be the last, I fear
unless I make it all too clear: I need you so
(broken wings, Mr. Mister)
Knuckles white from gripping the wheel of your car, you make the last turn into your garage; Jake is right behind you, and you're thankful that he's also driving because giving him a ride would be too disconcerting. Granted, it was 5 minute drive, but it gave you enough time to gather your feelings because they were all over the place. Now that you're parking your car, they are neatly organized and nestled into your heart.
As soon as Jake walked away to his car and you were left alone with your thoughts, your mind was screaming WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU THINKING? Don't you have any self-respect? Don't you know where this is leading again?
Then you inhaled, exhaled. Yes, you did have self-respect - hell, you'd been working on it for a while now through therapy. The breakup was the catalyst for a spiral of self-doubt and depression that left you without work for months and you needed to get back on your feet or you'd lose your house. So you worked your way through the clouds and despair and all sorts of fears, to book gigs around California that kept you busy, and kept your beloved roof under your head.
And you know where this is leading. Of course you do, you can see it clearly now. You are going to spend the night together, and you are going to pour your heart and soul onto him one last time, because you feel deep inside that it's the only way to finally, finally heal this once and for all. You aren't sure if he's ready to come clean with what happened, but you sure as hell are - give it all you got, and tie a bow on it. Set him free.
So when you kill the engine, you are strangely at peace. Your heart's pumping when he comes out of his car, but it's not with anger or frustration. You just want to be with him.
In silence, he follows you inside and you both take your shoes off. You turn on the living room lights and you’re about to put some music on when you decide against it - you haven't been able to listen to Otis Redding since he left, it isn't fair for another artist to have the same fate.
He helps you out of your jacket, the slight touch of his hands enough to jolt your body awake; and when you turn around, his eyes aren't roaming over your body as they used to. Instead, his gaze is fixed on you. Your hand reaches out to cup his cheek, and when he closes his eyes at your touch, you feel a tug in your heart.
You remember how many times you fantasized about hurting him. At first, that was all you wanted to do: scratch him, punch him, damage him. Then it consumed you for weeks, all the time and energy you spent on plotting some sort of revenge, and the subsequent disappointment in realizing it would never happen, and again, nothing got resolved. Nothing about Jake ever felt final to you.
He’s still and silent, everything about him screams restraint. He’s hesitant.
But he’s Hangman; he’s never hesitant. He’s not Rooster, he doesn’t wait for the exact right moment just to realize it’s gone. He’s so unfamiliar with that concept that you’re not sure he’s even aware of what’s going on, so you decide to help him overcome that unknown feeling by taking his hand in yours, and placing it over your beating heart.
“I trust you.”
You follow his gaze as it bounces a few times between your eyes and your mouth, and when his lips finally find yours, you hum. His tongue teases you slightly, as it waiting for permission; you grant it by parting your lips and wrapping a hand around his neck. It's already more than you could have ever wished for.
“Jake”, you call him.
“Yeah.”
“Please”, is all you manage to say without actually having to beg him to kiss you, touch you, ruin you the way only he knows how.
“Princess… if I start…”, he says, voice dropping an octave lower, forearm resting on the wall over your head.
“I know”, you pant over his open mouth, “I need you.”
He groans and it’s so unlike him to do this that you feel a distinct shiver starting on your calves and going all the way up to your scalp, and when his tongue slides over yours, it’s game over. You card your fingers through his soft hair, his hands now on either side of your face, pulling you to him as you get reacquainted with how you both taste. He pulls your bottom lip between his teeth before diving into your mouth again; he's hungry and you don't intend to leave him starving tonight.
Your hands travel from his neck, down his chest, circle his waist and stop on his hips; you pull him into you because you need that gap between you closed right now. He breaks the kiss momentarily with an exhale, and the warmth of his body spreads to yours like wildfire. It seems he can't get enough of you though - in a second his mouth is capturing yours once more, hot and wet and wanting, and when he presses his hips against you, you shudder. You remember him. You remember all of him.
His hand slides down your sides down to your knee, hiking your leg up and wrapping around his waist; you're on your tiptoes now, trying to get in a position that would provide you with some relief to the heat that's now pooling between your legs. He feels it. He knows you.
"Talk to me, princess", he says, lips hovering over the side of your neck.
You let out a long whimper, eyelids fluttering shut and you're convinced you can't, in fact, talk to him because your brain is scrambling to find any sort of reasoning right now. But then he's moving the collar of your shirt and biting your shoulder, forcing a yelp out of you and making your eyes open wide to find his own - intense, focused on you and you only. He grinds into you once more, one hand gripping your hip so tight it might leave a mark. You never cared, but tonight you care even less. Let him leave all the marks he wants. Let him claim you one more time.
"Fuck me, Jake", you finally let out under your breath.
"That's not what we're doin' tonight, though, right?", he asks, accent slipping slightly. It takes a second for you to understand what he means, and you swear your heart is pounding its way through your rib cage. Carefully, he unwraps your leg from him and holds it gently until your foot is on the ground; then his hand slips into yours and he leads you to your bedroom.
He spins you around so that you have your back to him. His fingertips graze your waist as he pulls your t-shirt over your head and throws it aimlessly, goosebumps breaking all over your skin as he undoes your bra and lightly traces the enormous piano tattoo that covers your back, its keys and flowers, down to your waist; hot breath on your shoulder, where he plants the softest kisses before stepping back.
You stay where you are, because it seems like he took the lead and although you don’t mind that one bit, you don’t know what’s next. That is, until you hear the rustle of fabric and he’s shirtless in front of you.
It’s a shock - a good one. He’s so much stronger than you remember; chest and abs chiseled to perfection, and you can’t wait to feel them on you. You take your time; palms touching his shoulders, chest, everywhere your fingertips touch is warm, smooth, sun-kissed skin and it hurts, the realization of having lived life without him for so long.
“Hey”, he interrupts your adoration, “my eyes are up here.”
You chuckle.
“I’m sorry. You look good”, you admit with a wince because you should know better than to feed his supersized ego.
“I know”, is the inevitable cocky response that has you rolling your eyes. The back of his fingers run down the sides of your breasts and you suck in a sharp breath. “I’m with you.”
When the back of your knees hit the bed, you fall back on some clothes you tried on earlier that night. You scoot up, tossing out tops and t-shirts on your way up and he all but crawls on top of you; when you stop, he sits back between your legs, hooks his fingers on either side of your panties and makes a show of peeling them off you. The way he moves his arms has you looking at muscles and veins you didn’t even know existed on his body and it’s mesmerizing to watch. From where you stand, he’s become this bear of a man: massive, imposing, staring at you as if the last thing he’ll see, and your whole body is set on fire.
After tossing your panties aside, he slides further down the bed and lowers himself until he’s lined up with your throbbing cunt, but he doesn’t dive in yet. Instead, you feel his soft, warm lips on the inside of your thigh, hand gripping tightly on the other to spread you nice and wide for him. Open mouthed, sloppy kisses make their up your leg and stop just outside your already swollen lips, making you squirm.
“I should have never left you”, he says, mouth so close to your core you can feel his breath and his words bring a smile to your face.
“Are you talking to me or to my-”
A series of strangled moans leave your lips as his tongue connects with your pussy, licking one long, firm stripe followed by the most delicious swirl through your folds. He hums and the vibration tickles all your nerves.
“I was talking to you”, he responds before darting his tongue out to work his magic again, “but I should have never left this pussy either. Look at you.”
He’s sitting again now, and grips both your legs to open you obscenely wide before running his fingers lazily up and down your pussy, brushing your clit but never focusing on it and it’s driving you out of your fucking mind.
“So. fucking. wet”, he whispers. “Perfect.”
“Jake, Jake, please”, you whine, reaching out to him but unable to get a grip on anything. He responds by slowly entering you with a finger. You groan, eyes rolling into the back of your head because holy fucking shit it’s too much - and he has barely started.
“I wonder if I can make you squirt again”, he muses, adding one more finger and you whimper. “God, you used to make such a mess.”
Your chest is heaving with anticipation. He picks up a random piece of clothing that's still lying around on your bed and places it carefully under you, probably remembering the many times no one thought about taking this kind of precaution, and it got so bad (or so good) you ended up having to get rid of your mattress. He shifts his position a little to get a better angle and starts his attack, fingers pumping in and out of you in an incredible pace and yes, yes, yes, he can make you squirt again with an ease that's both surprising and embarrassing, as you feel yourself gushing all over his skilled hand.
“Yes”, he celebrates, and you don't need to look at him to know he's smiling at this victory. He lowers himself down again to lap at your juices, the feel of his tongue making you press your thighs on either side of his head, hands tugging at his hair because it is too much and you need to catch your breath.
He finally relents, pulling the piece of clothing from under you to clean up his chin, and moves on to hover over you, forearms caging you beneath him. Even in the faint light that's coming in from the living room, you can see his gorgeous, green, narrow eyes looking at you; you run a thumb over his jaw as he leans closer to kiss you, slow and lazy, his taste on your tongue has you moaning into his mouth, your hands running down his back to the waist of his pants, all the way around to his belt buckle. You thought he'd taunt you, scold you for being in a hurry, but he doesn't. He pushes himself up to stand by the side of the bed, unbuckles his belt and pushes his pants and underwear down in one quick motion before jumping back on the mattress.
"Where were we?", he asks playfully, the tip of your noses touching.
"You were about to ruin me for other men," you reply, recalling what he'd told you the first time you had sex.
"Yeah, well", he starts, and you inhale sharply as the tip of his cock nudges your entrance and his hand is softly massaging your breast, "Let's just say I'm not proud of having said that. But did I?"
"Yes", the answer comes fast from your lips because it's true, and although you should be rolling your eyes at his constant need of reassurance, you're not in the mood - or in the right mind - for playing games tonight.
"Good", he breathes over your ear, slowly pushing his length inside you, your nails pressing down on his shoulders, mouth hanging open as he bottoms out. "Because there won't be other men", he continues, sliding out with ease and pushing back in. "I'm not leaving you again."
You don't know if it's the sheer amount of pleasure rippling through you right now, or hearing what he just said, or both, but your eyes are burning hot with tears.
"Jake", you plead, voice quivering, "don't say that." You can accept spending one last night with him and parting on somewhat decent terms; you cannot afford to have your heart broken by him once again with a false promise.
He's fully seated inside you when he stops and props himself up on one forearm to look at you.
"I'm serious, princess. I am not leaving you again", he states, and you swiftly brush off the stupid tears that are now streaming down the sides of your face. Truth is, he had never promised you anything in the past. Your relationship just... existed, you assumed it was going somewhere, and it never did. So yeah, you should take this with a grain of salt.
You wrap your legs around his waist, urging him to move again.
"Let me feel you", you ask, and he obliges, fucking into you with the same energy you know well, taking you higher and higher and higher with each thrust. He wraps an arm under your shoulder to pull you closer to him, other hand snaking down your stomach and your head sinks into the mattress when he finally, finally reaches your clit and you let one leg fall to the side to give him the right access. He slows down, dragging each sensation, fingers slowly tracing circles around your bundle of nerves, and it's all the better because right now, it's like he never left. He remembers every single thing about you, every single movement needed to push you over the edge.
"Fuck, I can feel it princess. Can feel you squeezing me so fucking hard, fuck it's so good", he pants, and although it may sound he's lost in the moment like you, his moves are still controlled as you feel every inch of him moving in and out of you. You glance at him, jaw clenched, forehead glistening with a thin layer of sweat, hair messed up just the way you like it, and it's heaven, it's more than heaven, it's-
It starts with your toes curling, it rushes up your legs, explodes in your core and radiates to your chest, an orgasm rippling through you with such force that it leaves you speechless. When it subsides, you find him looking at you with a hint of a smirk on his lips.
"Hey."
"Hi."
"You okay?"
"Yes. That was... whew", you say with a chuckle, admiring the wrinkles that form around his eyes when he smiles an authentic smile. He pulls your leg up, nudging you to wrap it around his waist again, and you do. He resumes his relentless pace, buries his face in the crook of your neck, you can feel his entire body covering yours; he's rutting into you, grunting in your ear like an animal, and by the way his hips start faltering, you know he's close.
"Can I...", he trails off, lifts his head up to look at you, and with any other men your answer would be absolutely fucking not, but... it's Jake. You nod, taking the time to notice how his eyebrows un-furrow when he's given permission to finish this the way he wants to; he places the sweetest kiss on your lips and captures your hand in his. He broke you, and now he’s the one healing you.
He thrusts into you a few more times before going still, deep into you as he comes. You run your hands softly down his back, his arms, bringing him down gently from his high.
"Hey", you say when he opens his eyes. His lips part as if he was going to say something, but he doesn't. You wonder what it was, what words got caught up in his throat. There's silence - a comfortable silence, only disturbed by the sound of both of you breathing - as he pulls out slowly, making you shudder one last time. It's crazy, but you don't feel like cleaning up right now. You want to feel him there, inside you, for a little longer. He tumbles to your side and you turn to face him.
How is he so beautiful?
He caresses your face gently, and then it hits you - this is over. It didn't last forever as you had wished. It had an end, and now... and now what?
"I have to go."
Of course he does. You know that. But hearing him say it doesn't hurt any less. You study his features, trying to take in everything as fast as you can - every line, every color, every texture - to wrap it up in a memory, because in your mind, this is it.
Or is it?
You shouldn't go there, you know you shouldn't, but you will because you swore you would not leave anything unresolved, no words unsaid, no feelings swept under the rug. So you muster the courage to confront him.
"You said you wouldn't leave again."
The corners of his lips turn up, his warm hand still stroking your cheek.
"I know. And I won't. But I have to be up super early tomorrow for our first mission briefing.
Right - you'd completely forgotten that the whole reason why he's back is a mission. There's a weight on your chest as you wonder how dangerous this mission could be, and now that he's here, you'll have to pray thrice as much - for him, for Rooster and for Phoenix.
He rubs his thumb over the crease that's formed between your eyebrows.
"Everything's gonna be all right. The best of the best, remember?"
"Yeah", you concede under your breath.
"See you tomorrow?", he asks, as if your answer could ever be anything other than
"Yes."
He leans in to give you one last kiss that turns into a series of small, quick pecks and soon he's kissing your smile.
"I'll miss you."
With that, he gets up and starts gathering his clothes from across your room to get dressed. You can't take your eyes off him as he stands by your bedroom door - your man, your pilot, your Jake.
"Good night, princess."
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wroteclassicaly · 2 years
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Sending you a request from the hate prompts because they were just too good.
Eddie x reader with the prompt "take your time, darling. hell's happy to wait for you."
Love your writing by the way 💕
First off, thank you so much for sending something, because it’s cheered me up immensely! ^_^ Second, thank you for the compliment! Much ♥️
I’m not sure what this is, but it’s the scenario that wouldn’t leave my brain alone, lol. Does it make sense? I hope so! Hope you enjoy, anon? And everyone else, as well?! <3
Prompt is from here
Feel free to clutter my inbox, y’all! ;)
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~*~
You watch him, eyes hazy with the anticipation of further observation. He is taller than you’d anticipated on the up close front, his long hair even more curly from the summer weather, one ankle crossed over the other, that bandana dangling from his back pocket, his silver chain resting against his thigh. He’s muttering to himself as he always does, laughing at his one man audience, fingers flipping through another set of cassette tapes you’d recently attempted to organize. A slight irritation brims you, causing you to outwardly sigh, moving from around the counter, stopping short. What exactly do you plan on doing that you haven’t already done before?
“You know that you can just come over here and approach me like an actual human being, Y/N.” He snarks, admiring your startle with a wide smirk, but still not sparing a glance your way. “Also, I’m not effecting your precious organizational skills here, I swear on my shriveled, dark heart.”
“Eddie, what the fuck…” It’s not the best comeback, doesn’t even make much sense, really, but it is all you’ve got, feet finally working to carry you to where he stands by the bins.
“What are we what-the-fucking, Y/N?” His fingers have a tape pinched between, those damned doe eyes finally meeting yours, cheesy little pursed smile pressing his defined features.
It would help if he wasn’t so otherworldly looking…
Hands planted on your hips, you force an eye roll. “You and this shit.” You yank a tape from his hand, noting, without surprise, that it’s Black Sabbath. “You’re forever coming in here and talking to yourself and fucking up my work. Besides, don’t you already have this one?”
He’s still grinning with those pearly whites, so hard that you fantasize about kicking him in the shin. Why is he so cocky sometimes?
“Not for me, it’s for a friend.” Uncrossing his ankle from the other, he steps closer, not invading your bubble, but enough that you can smell him. Weed, leather, rainwater, Marlboros, and some thick spice—Eddie Munson. He snatches the plastic casing back, gripping it in his palm, rings clattering noisily across it, lips parting to speak. “You remember my buyer’s history? I’m impressed.”
Is he chastising you? Nah, Eddie isn’t the crudely cruel kind. He may get under your skin (in more ways than one, if you’re being honest), but he isn’t nasty to you. Not really. You’re zoned out a bit too long, and he’s done walked away from you when you’re back in focus.
You turn around, arms crossed beneath your breasts, name tag scraping your skin, following him. “I’m supposed to know my customers, Munson. That’s what a good employee does.”
“Or an ass-kisser.” He sing-songs, still walking even further ahead of you.
“Mister-gets-his-dick-hard from anything Metallica related is really going to mock me for knowing what he likes?”
You wondered if his eyes could get any darker. Seeing those chocolate irises vanish into a cavern of black-blown pupils—you now have your answer. You’d gotten a rise from him. Good.
He strides until he’s towering over you, arms outstretching on either side of you, knuckles pressing into a metal rack. He licks his lips, voice considerably low for your ears and yours alone. “Oh, honey, you think you know what I like?”
Your jaw nearly drops. You snort, pushing him backwards. “Go to hell, Eddie. You know what I meant.”
“Only if you promise you’ll join me. S’ not a party without you, Y/N.”
You choose to ignore him, taking heavy steps back to the front counter, busying yourself with organizing bags. Eddie’s footfalls are easy to familiarize, his presence so damned infuriatingly daunting, that he doesn’t have to say anything—a gravitational pull pivoting you into his awaiting stare. His hair is frazzled, elbows propped onto the counter, cheeks resting on his palms.
“Jesus Christ, what?!” You snap, tossing the bags in exasperation.
He says nothing, briskly nodding to the tape he’s placed in front of you. You sigh, clicking your tongue, letting it slick against your teeth as you ring him up. When you’re handing him his change, he lets his fingers linger—waiting, nervously glancing for your reaction. You don’t pull away, curling your fingers into a fist after you drop the coins into his palm. He wraps his digits over yours, his rings pressing into your knuckles, a warm smile pattering his mouth.
His very delicious mouth…
“You need a ride after work? Supposed to rain the rest of the day.” He speaks in a sudden softness.
Flabbergasted, you’re unsure how to answer for a moment. Eddie shifts in, keeping your hand in his, awaiting your response, his voice honey-hot when he says, “Take your time, darling, hell’s happy to wait for you.”
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radiosummons · 1 year
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It's been so long since I’ve watched the Clone Wars movie that I completely forgot that a major plot point is that Anakin (also Ahsoka, but mostly Anakin) was tasked with keeping Jabba the Hutt's son, Rotta, safe/alive.
And like ... wow, that's actually super fucked up. Like S-tier levels of fucked up. Congratulations. The writers really did put Anakin in a situation where he had no choice but to actually protect the child of a being who was directly responsible for his family’s suffering (as well as that of everyone on Tattooine, but this is Anakin-we all know he only cares about his special circle of people more than he ever will the “greater whole”). 
And Anakin’s immediate disgust, while confusing and probably even downright unfathomable to Ahsoka in the moment, is so absolutely justified. He knows that Rotta is going to live and grow into an adult that basks in absolute luxury at the expense of slaves. 
You just have to know that it absolutely infuriates him that his duty as a Jedi and, by extension, citizen of the Republic has put him into this position. He can’t even object to his responsibility to carry out this mission (although he initially tries). 
Now, obviously, I’m not saying Anakin should have abandoned Rotta, refused to protect him, or force forbid actually tried to harm/kill him (though, I could totally believe Anakin had a brief moment where he might have even seriously considered or fantasized about doing any of those). Regardless of how unjust and fucked up it is that Rotta is going to continue to benefit from his father/the Hutt Clans’ brutal supremacy, he’s still, well ... a child.
And no Jedi would willingly ever bring harm to a child, right? *cough cough*
I can only wonder what was going through Anakin’s head as he watched this random ignorant padawan he only just met an hour ago pick up Rotta and then proceed to call him “cute.” Like ... can you even imagine the sheer amount of conflicted emotions he must have experienced in that moment? 
And the fact that Palpatine directly orchestrated all this whole other level of sick fucking shit just to force Anakin specifically into this kind of fucked up situation ... bruh. Mister Sidious just couldn’t resist an opportunity to bring even more pain and suffering into Anakin’s life, especially when it had the added benefit of sowing more discontentment/doubt into his already shaky relationship with his own personal morals as well as his relationship with the Jedi Code. 
Fuck, what an actual maniacle bullshit fucked up thing to do. Creating a situation where Anakin has no choice but to actively protect an innocent life (a noble and moral thing to do), but with the full knowledge that this innocent being will only later grow to contribute to the cycle of abuse and trauma that he himself has been scarred by (and has already committed great atrocities in direct response to) ... brilliant.
Sith Lord in fucking deed.
(Also, don’t let this post fool you into rewatching the movie. There’s small gem moments in it, sure. Meeting Ahsoka, Captain Rex and Ventress for the first time are some highlights, of course. And maybe a few other mini moments between Anakin and Ahsoka as they start to sorta bond. But like ... you can just find some Youtube compilations of those moments. Don’t force yourself to watch the movie. It’s not horrible, but it’s definitely not up to the quality of the show and uh, yeah. Not worth your time imo).
Update: Sorry for reposting this again. Grammar mistakes and typos were driving me insane.
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betaot4 · 3 months
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first lines in 2024
i love you forever & ever @foursaints <3 my sister from another mister, and by “mister” i mean fandom. (?) (i don’t know) thank you for tagging me omg i'm honored
share the first thing you have written in the new year once you get there (however long it takes & however brief!)
naturally, it's south park, no one is surprised.
Butters’ parents always warned him never to play near the train tracks.  He’d be leaning his head against the window of the car as they sped into town, watching trees flicker in and then out of view as if they were never there, but the train tracks, which ran along the highway, stayed put, almost like they were alive and following him.  Sometimes, when he was a kid, they would show up in his dreams. Lush yellow sunflowers sprouted from the otherwise parched and brittle brush. He’d run across to try and pick one, and he’d get hit by a barreling freight train. The imaginary howl of its whistle startled him awake. Then, the guilt would wreck his chest as he heaved for breath, feeling sorry to his parents that he perished in such an idiotic accident, and apologetic to the train for dirtying its nose with his bloodied and torn-apart cadaver.  Thus, naturally, Butters was a bit trepid when Kenny led him there one summer afternoon when they were both fifteen.  There were no sunflowers. Garbage and broken bottles littered the ground, cemented into the dirt after all the snow melted away. But Kenny was there, and he was holding Butters’ hand, and when he turned around and flashed Butters his gap-toothed smile, Butters thought it as seductive as the beauty he dreamed about in his youth. Feeling newly grown-up and unafraid, Butters supposed he would lie down on the tracks and let Kenny take him right then and there if Kenny asked him to. “Why'd you bring me here?” A piece of glass snapped under Butters’ heel. “I dunno, it’s peaceful. Quiet. I hang out here a lot. Have been since I was a kid.” Leave it to Kenny to be the one who dared to get up to all of the mischief Butters could only fantasize about. “Weren’t you scared? Y’know, of gettin’ hit? Dying?” “Nah,” Kenny huffed, laughing, with a cigarette from his jacket pocket perched between his teeth. It was just the two of them, the screaming of crickets in their angry cacophony, and a long steel road beckoning them out of South Park and into the rest of their lives. Kenny was frowning when Butters turned to look at him, and he knew they were both thinking the same thing: that it was a damn shame they both had to stay, and that a lukewarm summer night was a cruel tease in a town where winter seemed everlasting.  - (ending) Most of Butters’ summers were quiet, spent alone in the prison his parents called a bedroom. Right now, Kenny was breathing softly beside him, one arm around his lower stomach. Butters thinks would do anything to hold onto this security forever. 
super rough but here! i hardly have any of my lovely sp friends on here omg... but given that this is a butters/kenny snippet i can't help but tag @delivish the bunny queen... no pressure ofc. i love you all! anyone who wishes to can and should participate.
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cyandreamsinwords · 5 months
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Sneak Peek: Goblet of Fire — Chapter Three
Mild spoilers below for the upcoming chapter, you’ve been warned :)
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Typically, the sight of either Lucius or Draco Malfoy would put a frown on Harry’s face, but the sight of Lyra Black had that instinct on pause. For whatever reason, he felt whole unprepared to see her right there in front of him, as happy as he was about it.
Harry hadn’t thought about Lyra as much since he’d arrived at the Weasley’s house. There was simply too much going on to spend any time fantasizing about the future or what could have been. Perhaps it was the isolation of the Dursley’s that gave him so much time to think about Sirius and her. He still sometimes leaned on them though when he was closing his eyes at night and trying to fall asleep.
The minister rushed over to Lucius as he entered the box. The man was leading his family to their seats, but he stopped to speak with the minister.
“Ah, Fudge, how are you?”
“Good good!” Fudge turned and greeted the rest of the family. “Narcissa, young Mister Malfoy…Miss Black.” The minister very awkwardly acknowledged the latter, looking like he was being taken back to a night he very much wished to forget. Lyra just eyed him neutrally. He motioned to the Bulgarian Minister. “Allow me to introduce you to Mr. Oblansk—Obalonsk—Mr.—well, he’s the Bulgarian Minister of Magic, and he can’t understand a word I’m saying anyway, so never mind. And let’s see who else—you know Arthur Weasley, I daresay?”
The faceoff was tense, and Harry feared there’d be a reenactment of the face off in Flourish and Blotts. Neither man was happy to see the other, and everyone but the Minister seemed to notice.
Ginny and Hermione both gave Lyra a friendly wave, which she returned quickly, earning her a subtle pinch to the back of her arm from her Aunt. Lyra’s hand dropped and clasped in front of her, looking away as her aunt leaned down to whisper in her ear. Malfoy snickered from his spot, notably not receiving a pinch for that.
“Good lord, Arthur,” Mr. Malfoy said under his breath, skirting under the Minister’s attention. “What did you have to sell to get seats in the Top Box? Surely your house wouldn’t have fetched this much?”
“Lucius has just given a very generous contribution to St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, Arthur. He’s here as my guest.”
“How—how nice,” Mr. Weasley said with a strained smile.
The Malfoys parted with one last disdainful look from Mr. Malfoy to Hermione, going and settling in their seats. Harry was torn between glaring at Mr. Malfoy and trying to catch Lyra’s eye. She was looking just about anywhere else, before leaning over to talk to Draco in a soft voice. Draco was busy trying to mimic his father’s dirty looks, but something she said had him turning to look elsewhere with interest. The two of them began to chatter away.
After an awkward reunion, they all settled into their respective seats.
“Slimy gits,” Ron muttered.
Harry leaned over to Hermione. “Have you heard from her at all this summer?”
Hermione didn’t have to ask who he meant. “Just the once, in the first weeks back. I’ve written to her a few times since, but haven’t heard anything back.”
So it hadn’t just been him then. At least Hermione got a single response. As more and more of his letters went unanswered, Harry began to fear something had happened. Seeing her here, now, he still wasn’t convinced something hadn’t. She couldn’t even look at them.
Just then, the Minister started the game. Harry tried not to look back at her. It was easy enough as the game was going to get sucked in and focus solely on that. But every other moment in between plays, every time he thought about it when there was a pause, that focus drifted back over to try and catch her attention. She never gave it to him, and really, what would he do with it if he got it? Talk to her telepathically?
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lacontroller1991 · 1 year
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KWF Day 9: Rick Flag x F!Reader
Main Master List KWF Master List
Warnings: Language
Word Count: 808
Day 9: Stripping / Tossing and Turning / Game Day (sports)
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“I can’t fucking believe he chose soccer.” Rick sulks in the driver seat as you look back to your 7 year old, game ready in his uniform and oblivious to his father’s irritation about the chosen sport. “I mean I was playing football at his age!”
“Now, now Richard, your father made you play football and you resented it. Didn’t you?”
Rick huffs but hangs his head in shame because you’re right, his father made him do many things, most of which he regrets doing. But still, “why soccer out of the rest? Why not baseball?”
You tug your teeth between your lips as you stifle a giggle at your husband’s antics because what the former Special Ops officer doesn’t know is that you managed to subconsciously point your son into the direction of soccer, whether that being by telling stories of soccer players like Messi or Ronaldo, or even sitting your son on your lap while you watched the world cup. Either way, Rick is none the wiser to your scheme. 
The closer the three of you get to the soccer field, the more you could feel the excitement bouncing off your seven year old, iPad and headphones long forgotten as he stares out the window with wide hazel eyes. “I hope we win!” You and Rick share a glance with each other before you look back at your son, a smile on your face. 
“I’m sure you will honey. I’m sure you will.”
“We’re here.”
Now Rick would never say it outloud, but he had always fantasized about getting up on Saturday mornings, getting his kids dressed for their games and spending the better part of a day outside in the fall weather. But the real deal far surpasses all his fantasies. 
“COME ON REF, THAT WAS A FOUL!” Rick jumps up from his lawn chair and screams at the top of his lungs, gathering the attention of everybody on and off the field.
“Rick, sit your ass down!” You yank his arm down as he scoffs and crosses his arms before looking at you.
“That was obviously offside!” You roll your eyes in amusement but bring his knuckles to your lips and press a gentle kiss to them causing him to blush underneath the brim of his baseball cap. 
“Rickie, they’re only 7 years old. Fouls aren’t really a thing. Besides, that’s not what offside means.”
“Well they should be.” You lightly punch his arm and turn your focus back to the game just in time for the opposing team to put the ball in the net. “Oh come on, that’s bullshit!” 
“Watch your language mister, there’s children present!” Some lady comments as the ref jogs over to you and Rick, causing you to sink further into the chair.
“Listen, sir, you need to watch your voice and calm down. This is a warning.” Rick nods his head and takes a seat back down as the game continues. 
“This is such bullshit, that team should’ve never gotten a goal.”
“Babe, it’s just a junior league game. It’s okay.”
“Sure it’s just a ‘junior league game’ but I want our son to win. I know I didn’t raise a loser.” You roll your eyes in response to his demeanor.
“Our kid would never be a loser. Winning/losing doesn’t matter, what matters is if he has fun.”
“I suppose you’re right.” Rick pouts, hazel eyes training on the field as he spots a mop of blonde hair supporting a blue jersey running with a ball between their feet. “Holy shit, look it’s our kid!”
You surge forward out of your seat and clutch onto Rick’s hand because yes, it is your son running toward the goal with the ball at his feet. “Go! Go! Go baby!”
“Come on, come on,” Rick utters underneath his breath before the ball goes into the net. “GOOOOOAAAAALLLLLL! THAT’S MY BOY!” Rick shoots up out of his chair as the rest of the team’s parents cheer in unison but your son tunes the rest out, only focused on his mom and dad cheering him on from the side lines.
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“I can’t believe we won!” You son comments from the top of Rick’s broad shoulders, swinging his short legs as he holds onto his father via Rick’s ash blonde locks. 
“You did really well, kiddo. Knew you’d win.” 
“We’re very proud of you, honey. You did so well!” 
“I overheard some other parents say that daddy was being mean. Is that true?”
“Daddy just got a little excited,” Rick comments with a smirk as you roll your eyes. Never did you think Rick would be more into the game than you are but he still proves you wrong on the daily. “Because you won, how about you, mommy and I go get some ice cream? How does that sound?”
“Yayyy ice cream!” 
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