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#without PUTTING IT IN THE GALLERY
geniusphilester · 6 months
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rip potential devan wedding happening in episode 69
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slaughterfreak · 5 months
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very different media from what i usually post but mommy long legs redesign
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oxidaisy · 5 months
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Only my finest pieces for the staffroom wall
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dudefrommywesterns · 10 months
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so this isn't exact but this is the build i decided would be the town
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dois-funnyzone · 5 months
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this is a legit question - for years i’ve essentially ‘pirated’ color palettes
for procreate, there’s a pretty big market of color palettes you can purchase to add the swatches to your program. however i was like “i ain’t paying 2+ dollars on some colors” so i just took a screenshot and eyedropped them into the program myself (and for preview images that were censored to avoid that, like having an overlay over half of the colors, i just edited it out to get it close enough). for as long as ive done this i was a cocky edgelord about it but now im wondering if i should feel bad about it??
because even if i think buying colors is ridiculous (especially for some of the prices i’ve seen geez) im still technically stealing. from small businesses. right?? but at the same time can you even copyright a color scheme? is buying a color palette for procreate even worth paying for? cuz they’re so cool and i wanna use em but also cmon.
(also ngl collecting them and dumping them into the program like a treasure haul is addicting lol)
this probably sounds so so stupid but i’m starting to worry a little 😭😭
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missionkitty · 2 years
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sometimes i really wish i could easily respond to tags because you guys really come through with them and just make some rough days a lot better but i don't wanna clog your dms or your notifications (i love you guys but i get petrified to engage with you sometimes 🫠 i am a big anxious weenie)
i put something kind of regarding this in my pinned post but i absolutely am so okay with you guys going deep into my blog for my old art or things or spam liking (and maybe a reblog here and there) things i've previously posted 😭 especially if you're new!
🅱️lease feel free to take a look at my older stuff!!! treat this like a museum and wander to your heart's content 🥰
i try to keep stuff circulating in my reblog side @missionkittyroyal but WAY more people follow me on here than on there and i am kind of trying keep this one more portfolio style
aaaanyway if you're reading this and you've recently reblogged something from a little while ago, your tags have basically saved my morning and you probably know who you are and i love you you
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genderenvyninja · 2 years
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psst ya got any brazilian chaotix headcanons bestie
Headcanons about Brazilian Chaotix? I have some of these.....
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Vector, Charmy and Espio are from Rio de Janeiro, Mighty is from Minas Gerais, Ray is from Espírito Santo and Silver is the only one who wasn't born in Brazil because he comes from Soleanna (which is basically Venice)
Vector and Charmy were born in the city of Rio while Espio is from the interior of the state, Mighty is from Diamantina, Ray is from Vitória and and since Silver is dating Espio, he was basically adopted so he has Brazilian nationality
Silver and Vector are addicted to samba, Charmy spends all day listening to songs by Xuxa and Patati and Patatá, Espio can sing all the songs by Rita Lee and Pitty, Mighty likes pagode and Ray is quite eclectic
Vector and Vanilla sell bolo no pote (has a translation, but it's not as good as "bolo no pote") in Copacabana every weekend
They go every sunday for a barbecue at Vanilla's house.
Vector is the football addict of the house, he is vascaíno and always bets that Vasco will win (why you guys think they're always broke lol)
Their last name is "da Silva", courtesy of Vector
Vector joga no bicho (this has no translation sorryyyy XDDDD) (is also the same energy as that interview with Zeca Pagodinho, Brazilians will understand kajskakalaka)
Espio doesn't miss a soap opera, it could literally be the end of the world but he won't miss his 9 o'clock soap opera
Silver, Charmy and Ray are three obsessed with Turma da Mônica, they buy literally every comic they see on the newsstand
Mighty doesn't miss an edition of Mais Você and forces everyone to watch Fantastico every sunday
Charmy and Silver already got into a fight with someone from Leblon
These are just my favorites, I have many others but I don't think they would make any sense to gringos akdjalsjlsks
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robinsnest2111 · 1 month
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special shoutout to that lil kid at the vernissage today, looked up at me and smiled at me and reminded me of myself at that age, blonde curls, neckerchief, colourful sweater and kiddy jeans and all <3
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kafus · 1 year
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beginner’s guide to the indie web
“i miss the old internet” “we’ll never have websites like the ones from the 90s and early 2000s ever again” “i’m tired of social media but there’s nowhere to go”
HOLD ON!
personal websites and indie web development still very much exist! it may be out of the way to access and may not be the default internet experience anymore, but if you want to look and read through someone’s personally crafted site, or even make your own, you can still do it! here’s how:
use NEOCITIES! neocities has a built in search and browse tools to let you discover websites, and most importantly, lets you build your own website from scratch for free! (there are other ways to host websites for free, but neocities is a really good hub for beginners!)
need help getting started with coding your website? sadgrl online has a section on her website dedicated to providing resources for newbie webmasters!
HTML (HyperText Markup Language) and CSS (Cascading Style Sheets) are the core of what all websites are built on. many websites also use JS (JavaScript) to add interactive elements to their pages. w3schools is a useful directory of quick reference for pretty much every HTML/CSS/JS topic you can think of.
there is also this well written and lengthy guide on dragonfly cave that will put you step by step through the basics of HTML/CSS (what webpages are made from), if that’s your sort of thing!
stack overflow is every programmer’s hub for asking questions and getting help, so if you’re struggling with getting something to look how you want or can’t fix a bug, you may be able to get your answer here! you can even ask if no one’s asked the same question before.
websites like codepen and jsfiddle let you test HTML/CSS/JS in your browser as you tinker with small edits and bugfixing.
want to find indie websites outside the scope of neocities? use the search engine marginalia to find results you actually want that google won’t show you!
you can also use directory sites like yesterweb’s link section to find websites in all sorts of places.
if you are going to browse the indie web or make your own website, i also have some more personal tips as a webmaster myself (i am not an expert and i am just a small hobbyist, so take me with a grain of salt!)
if you are making your own site:
get expressive! truly make whatever you want! customize your corner of the internet to your heart’s content! you have left the constrains of social media where every page looks the same. you have no character limit, image limit, or design limit. want to make an entire page or even a whole website dedicated to your one niche interest that no one seems to be into but you? go for it! want to keep a public journal where you can express your thoughts without worry? do it! want to keep an art gallery that looks exactly how you want? heck yeah! you are free now! you will enjoy the indie web so much more if you actually use it for the things you can’t do on websites like twitter, instead of just using it as a carrd bio alternative or a place to dump nostalgic geocities gifs.
don’t overwhelm yourself! if you’ve never worked with HTML/CSS or JS before, it may look really intimidating. start slow, use some guides, and don’t bite off more than you can chew. even if your site doesn’t look how you want quite yet, be proud of your work! you’re learning a skill that most people don’t have or care to have, and that’s pretty cool.
keep a personal copy of your website downloaded to your computer and don’t just edit it on neocities (or your host of choice) and call it a day. if for some reason your host were to ever go down, you would lose all your hard work! and besides, by editing locally and offline, you can use editors like vscode (very robust) or notepad++ (on the simpler side), which have more features and is more intuitive than editing a site in-browser.
you can use ctrl+shift+i on most browsers to inspect the HTML/CSS and other components of the website you’re currently viewing. it’ll even notify you of errors! this is useful for bugfixing your own site if you have a problem, as well as looking at the code of sites you like and learning from it. don’t use this to steal other people’s code! it would be like art theft to just copy/paste an entire website layout. learn, don’t steal.
don’t hotlink images from other sites, unless the resource you’re taking from says it’s okay! it’s common courtesy to download images and host them on your own site instead of linking to someone else’s site to display them. by hotlinking, every time someone views your site, you’re taking up someone else’s bandwidth.
if you want to make your website easily editable in the future (or even for it to have multiple themes), you will find it useful to not use inline CSS (putting CSS in your HTML document, which holds your website’s content) and instead put it in a separate CSS file. this way, you can also use the same theme for multiple pages on your site by simply linking the CSS file to it. if this sounds overwhelming or foreign to you, don’t sweat it, but if you are interested in the difference between inline CSS and using separate stylesheets, w3schools has a useful, quick guide on the subject.
visit other people’s sites sometimes! you may gain new ideas or find links to more cool websites or resources just by browsing.
if you are browsing sites:
if the page you’re viewing has a guestbook or cbox and you enjoyed looking at the site, leave a comment! there is nothing better as a webmaster than for someone to take the time to even just say “love your site” in their guestbook.
that being said, if there’s something on a website you don’t like, simply move on to something else and don’t leave hate comments. this should be self explanatory, but it is really not the norm to start discourse in indie web spaces, and you will likely not even be responded to. it’s not worth it when you could be spending your time on stuff you love somewhere else.
take your time! indie web doesn’t prioritize fast content consumption the way social media does. you’ll get a lot more out of indie websites if you really read what’s in front of you, or take a little while to notice the details in someone’s art gallery instead of just moving on to the next thing. the person who put labor into presenting this information to you would also love to know that someone is truly looking and listening.
explore! by clicking links on a website, it’s easy to go down rabbitholes of more and more websites that you can get lost in for hours.
seeking out fansites or pages for the stuff you love is great and fulfilling, but reading someone’s site about a topic you’ve never even heard of before can be fun, too. i encourage you to branch out and really look for all the indie web has to offer.
i hope this post helps you get started with using and browsing the indie web! feel free to shoot me an ask if you have any questions or want any advice. <3
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tired-teacher-blog · 3 months
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Husband Izuku who still gets misty eyed whenever he revisits your wedding photo album because he just cannot believe that you're actually his.
Husband Izuku who secretly dreamt of a life together with you ever since your first date, but he would never admit to it.
Husband Izuku who has your bright smiley face as his phone wallpaper and takes every opportunity presented to show you off to whoever is unfortunate enough to be subjected to him twittering on for hours at times about his beautiful wife, you.
Husband Izuku who showers you with gifts, with or without an occasion, and who anticipates your reaction eagerly with a goofy smile and a glint in his eye.
Husband Izuku who never fails to mention you during interviews, mouthing a shy greeting and a quiet "I love you" your way because he knows you'd be watching.
Husband Izuku who often cooks for you despite him being terrible at it, but he's stubborn and determined to learn from his mistakes because his goal is to prepare something worthy of your taste, and you love him for even trying.
Husband Izuku who dreams of having kids with you but never pushes the subject because he respects your body, and knows that you're the only one who can decide if and when to do it.
Husband Izuku who is mostly careful with your body, so sweet and attentive with his gentle touches and soft kisses as he covers every speck of you while moving slowly and deeply into your heat.
Husband Izuku who -despite his innocent demeanor- can actually sometimes be a beast during your intimate times together, pounding you into the mattress or any flat surface he can get you on, and watching as your eyes roll back and mouth falls open when you start fluttering around him as shockwaves of pleasure ripple through you.
Husband Izuku who obviously loves filling you up with his pearly seeds everytime he's allowed, and fantasizes about the day he'll finally get you pregnant.
Husband Izuku who almost chokes up when you place his hand on your belly and murmur into his ear that he is to be a father.
Husband Izuku who effortlessly memorizes every pregnancy book written, and you find it astounding that he knows about the subject more than you do.
Husband Izuku who accompanies you to every single doctor's appointment even if he has loads of work stacked up and waiting, he just gets someone to fill in for him so he wouldn't miss being with you during your checkups.
Husband Izuku who spoils you with massages because he's confident in his skills to alleviate your sore muscles and just about any discomfort you might have.
Husband Izuku who relishes watching your belly grow gradually and adores the extra weight you've put on, he simply cannot take his eyes off of you and is mesmerized by your glow.
Husband Izuku who loves kissing your baby bump and talking nerdily to your unborn child about anything and everything, until he falls asleep with his head on your lap and his hand resting on your tummy.
Husband Izuku who stands by you in the delivery room, holding your hand and encouraging you with loving words all the way through the process.
Husband Izuku who is unable to stop the stream of tears rolling down his cheeks when holding your baby for the first time.
Husband Izuku who kisses you deeply and thanks you for the greatest gift he has ever gotten, calling you his hero for being so strong and brave until the end.
Husband Izuku whose phone gallery is now filled with pictures and videos of you and the baby, drawing strength from seeing your faces whenever things get inevitably tough for the pro hero.
Husband Izuku who watches over your little family like a hawk, and whose life mission is to give you the happiness you deserve in return for what you've given him.
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hwajin · 2 months
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☆°. — ғɪғᴛᴇᴇɴ ᴍɪɴᴜᴛᴇs ᴘᴀsᴛ ғᴏᴜʀ | hhj
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𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: smut, fluff
𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: hyunjin x afab!reader
𝐰𝐜: 3.4k
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: unprotected sex, cumming inside
𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: this is barely proof read AND inspired by the bathrobe look in paris but also hyunjin in milan 🫶 hope you like it <333
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You could feel his gaze on you. On your figure, your body. On your whole. The clear sound of his 2B pencil dancing along the cheap, store-bought paper echoed quietly in contrast to the music playing somewhere in the back, from the radio, or one of your phones, or from outside your hotel room altogether — it didn’t much matter to you, for his gaze on your body, on your figure, on your whole was all that did.
You weren’t sure if he was aware that you were aware — his eyes on you, the pencil scratching against the paper; you knew you were the object for his current spurt of creativity. The object of his inspiration. The object of his works — his very own and personal muse. You knew, and the knowledge, the very thought alone, made you dizzy, made you lose track of the sentence you were reading in the tour guide provided by the hotel.
Milan was beautiful. You were working your way through page after page, taking in museums and cathedrals, art galleries you knew Hyunjin would die to see. One page, his gaze on you, long, intimate, longing. Another page, eyeing the ‘Pinacoteca di Brera’, putting in a bookmark to later show him, and you felt his eyes on you again. Unbudging. Persistent. He either was unsure of your anatomy, or simply enjoyed to stare.
“I can feel you staring, you know.”
You looked up, and your eyes momentarily locked with his own, dark ones. Sparking. Speaking, without words. His hair had dried a good bit ever since he’d stepped out the shower, the white bathrobe snug loosely around his naked body leaving only so much to imagination. You looked at him, smiling, teasing, and he stared back — aware, and smug. His eyes wandered down to his art again — faint strokes of your face adorning the page and you wondered what had moved Hyunjin to capture you in this very moment — it was mundane, the moment, and you didn’t look any bit different – or, better, for that matter – than you did any other day. You were reading a tour guide, lazy, tired, solemn — you wondered where he saw the beauty in that.
“I know. I don’t mind that you can feel it.”
A pang to your heart, and he looked up from his page again, after adding lines here and there which as though magically transformed into plasticity, into your eyes and nose and mouth. You were fascinated by his art. You grew bashful at his words. And you were enamored by his eyes, his face. His whole; the way he looked. Milan was beautiful — but suddenly you forgot all about the tour guide, about the trip here you had bought for his birthday. You forgot all about the sights and museums and art galleries, for he sat across from you, sight enough, creating the only art you ever wished to look at.
You were sure you blushed, your skin acquainting the same colour of the roses blooming on the table in a vase. You could smell them, their scent spreading all around and luring you into depths so captivating you wanted to exist in them for eternity.
Only now you noticed the red paint by your lover’s side, only after thorough inspection of him. He parted his eyes from your own with a grin and continued on his drawing — on your drawing, ultimately, because you knew he’d gift it to you after finishing touches —; his hands reached after the brush laying beside his paper, and with a dip into beforehand-prepared water he activated the red colour, and let it swim across white paper. You couldn't take your eyes off him. You couldn’t take your eyes off the way his hands controlled the paint on his canvas, how the pigment drowned and spread and melted against the grey lines of pencil. Taking everything in, swallowing details, yet enhancing the object of the art, enhancing features of your face. Your cheeks suddenly shone red now on the white paper — and maybe it had been his aim after all, to make you shy, to make you bashful. Reality materialised onto paper, into art. Love did, for every brushstroke, every further pigment of red paint on white canvas meant love, for every further gaze of his, for reference or his own enjoyment you weren’t sure, meant adoration.
It took Hyunjin far longer to finish the painting than he had intended it to. Not because he was struggling with it — drawing you in all shapes and forms was a second nature to him by now —, and not because of exterior reasons altogether. Yet he sat and painted, away and away, adding a line here, colour there, watching you go back to the tour guide; he was sure that it could not possibly take you so long to finish it. That you were spending far too much time on each page, that you were eyeing Hyunjin far too often after every other sentence you read. That it wouldn’t possibly take you so long to inspect sights and places — but that you and him were set on the same mission, seemingly, on the same, interior goal. Finishing the tour guide, completing the painting — meant ending the moment. Ending the tranquility, discarding, ultimately, from admiring the other in the golden light of the slowly setting sun, shadows of trees and buildings casting paintings on your faces. The moment would end, the sun would set, would stop drowning the ebony furniture in your hotel room in golden showers, snow-white bed sheets in warm rays.
You looked up; Hyunjin looked at you, inspecting, one second, another, before he went back to his painting, as concentrated as he had stared at you. You let your eyes wander to somewhere behind him — you looked out the western window, which blind’s didn't do well in saving you from the blinding sun, though you wouldn't have wanted them to, admired the sunset, the city that laid in it, the foreign neighbourhood, the white sky. Maybe Hyunjin caught beauty there — the rich sun on your face. Your sparking eyes, your gleaming expression. Almost sacred, solemn. Meant for only the two of you.
You caught glimpse of the broken clock on the wall behind him, showing fifteen minutes past four — it had been showing fifteen minutes past four for the past two hours now. Or for the past three? How much later was it now, ever since you had settled into the hotel room? The sun had long started to set behind the horizon, though it had stood at its highest spot when you had first entered the single bedroom for two; yet maybe no time had passed at all. Maybe in his presence love was eternal, unending.
You stood up. You had been looking at Hyunjin for far too long; had been only looking at him, inspected his every move, reciprocated his every long, fixed stare, shuddering beneath it simply. You had studied his ever-drying dark hair, his ever-parting bathrobe, his naked collarbones, his paint-laced fingers. The way he stared you down, the way he left you vulnerable and naked with as much as a gaze – and you felt touch starved. His eyes burned on your skin, though it wasn’t sensation enough to satisfy you – you needed more of him. You would always need more of him.
Hyunjin’s eyes followed your figure as you made your way over to him. Without a rush, walking slowly; you bore all the time the world had to offer in your palms, it felt. You walked slowly, yet the scent of the red roses you passed filled Hyunjin’s senses in the breeze your movements created. The floral sensation all around him, your nearing body, your leisure attire, your hazy eyes – he was convinced this moment alone, the sight of you, the golden sun as though casting a halo above your figure, drowning you in warmth and beauty and love, this moment alone was entirely enough to eradicate each and every of his needs, any wish he’s ever wished and any promise he’s ever made; for this moment alone, and your heaven-sent presence was enough to fulfill all. Needs, wishes, promises. If it was you he could look at for eternities, if it was your body he’d have the privilege of holding close for the end of times he would never dare to ask of anything else.
The red paint on Hyunjin’s paper slowly dried out as you finally stood before him. It wasn’t, Hyunjin thought, the roses on the table in a vase which sent their scent across the room, after all – it was you. You smelt of roses. You smelt of vanilla, of red paint, of smoke, of Milan, now that you stood before him, now that he looked up at you, from beneath glasern eyes. You smelt like you, and you smelt like him; traces of his scent and his touch and his promise on your skin, and Hyunjin basked in it.
You didn’t waste much time before you made moves to take a seat on his lap; and not only did Hyunjin realize your attempts momentarily, he also embraced you without as much as hesitation. He found himself drowning in the feeling of your weight on him, allowing you to swallow him whole, allowing you to let your eyes explore. You let them wander from his face to his neck, from his protruding collarbones to his pointy shoulders – the white bathrobe was almost mocking now, doing so little in covering the man that it was nothing but ironic.
And you felt his hands on you, your body. Secure, sure of their position on your hips. Tall fingers, spacey palms; you felt their entirety on your body, and your red heart picked up its’ speed at that.
And you touched him, too. Your hands, cool and soft, found home on his face, each palming a cheek, closing him in. Your thumbs caressed his flush skin, tickled near his eyes, reached towards his parted lips, his hungry lips. Hyunjin looked at you, let you touch him, his face. Let you look at him. Let you make him wait on the kiss he so badly needed, let you bask in him, for he enjoyed nothing more than that.
Your eyes met, and you weren’t sure who granted the first smile, but both your mouths turned upwards, curling into softening features. Roses, red paint, Milan outside the window; though this moment contained of only you and him, and the broken clock, fifteen minutes past four, timelessness. You showed your teeth, your eyes squinting with your smile, and Hyunjin’s were the same.
“Hi.”
A whisper against quiet music and honking cars, angry passengers outside, and Hyunjin reciprocated with a chuckle. Then, a whisper as soft as the prior one, “Hi.”; and he pulled you in. Or maybe he reached for you, longed for you. Or maybe you both moved only enough for your lips to connect, finally, in soft passion. Vigorously, though not in haste, not in roughness. Forcefully, rather, impatiently forceful as you let your tongue dart out of your mouth so it could explore his, and it didn’t take the man as much as a minute to welcome you in, to invite you into himself. And you let your tongue dance with his own, in a waltz, or something faster than that, something less rhythmic – something freer. Your hands stood ground on his body, fingers digging into his shoulder as his dug into your flesh, in covered flesh by your aching hips. Your mouths moved against one another sloppily, and teeth dragging across lips, tongues easing off the sting right after, wet, loud, swallowing any sound which slipped past your throats. Quiet, still timid, breathy sighs which tasted of chocolate and shaky moans which were barely audible against exterior noise. You saw stars behind your eyelids – if because you squeezed them shut so tight it hurt, or because Hyunjin’s touch on your body, the bite he had just placed on your lower lip, and the way he pulled away right after, only for a second, less than that, to admire you with a smile before diving back into you, you weren’t sure, but there were stars all the same. Stars, and Hyunjin, darkening Milan behind the hotel room windows. Fifteen minutes past four. Timelessness.
Hyunjin pulled you closer. Impatience, or simply the need to have you nearer, more flushed against his body than you already were. His hands lay strong on your body, and he pulled you in, your cores coming in contact, hot, ignited, searching for more than this. Than clothed touches, more than the faint feeling of his erection against your sex. More than his hands in your hair, entangling long, warm fingers there, more than his teeth bruising your lips. You’d always want more – and you were glad that Hyunjin was no different. For his hands wandered, and his lips with them, kissing and nibbling where his fingers danced upon – your neck, your shoulders, then, your chest, unbuttoning your shirt one by one, not without a kiss to your skin with every further act of undressing. One button, a kiss, a gaze up to you beneath his lashes, a faint smile, a smug grin at your scrunched brows and staggered breath. Another button, another kiss, and his gaze fell back to your chest, watching your ever-exposing body, so impatient in his seat yet so unrushed. Taking his time. Feeling your bosom rise and fall against his lips, hearing your breath, your sighs, your heartbeat. Feeling hot – your skin was burning, your body was, and Hyunjin with it.
Your shirt was discarded onto the floor. Long forgotten, along with your shorts; Hyunjin’s bathrobe lay leisurely around him, half-opened, only carelessly shoved off his body yet not having borne enough patience to fully free him from it. Though neither of you cared. You let the fabric hang off the chair you were sitting on, the softness of it the only thing touching your skins besides each other's skin. You were closer now, much closer than before, though you barely deemed it possible. You sat right atop Hyunjin’s erection, his right hand resting against your inner thigh – he wasn’t touching yet, only teasing to, and your body grew hotter yet, needier. Your hips searched for friction, your fingers dug into Hyunjin’s scalp with a force which made the man groan out in deep satisfaction, and you kissed him with a fervor enough to move oceans – and he drowned in it, gave into you, kissed you back as feverishly, as messily.
He touched you, too. Finally, eventually, and you muffled a loud moan at the unexpectedness of it. Two fingers against your clit as Hyunjin’s tongue entered your mouth, as he forced your tongue to push against his own – to which you obliged, gladly. You moaned into him as you reciprocated his kiss, grinded your hips into his touch, into his hand. He answered with a sigh, with fingers which increased their speed, with a bite against your lower lip. It ought to hurt by now, your lower lip, with the way he was nibbling at it, though you believed that your body was immune to feel pain in relation to your lover. So, he bit away, nibbled on the sweet spot of your neck, on the lobe of your ear only to moan right into it, to send shivers down the entirety of your body, and you let him. And there was no better feeling, you believed.   
You disconnected your lips from his. There was a second where his mouth searched for yours, where his body hadn’t yet registered the emptiness your parting left, but then he looked at you, leaned back in his chair, eyes glassy, fingers circling around your clit slowly, mindlessly. As though it was a bodily reaction, an instinct. As though he wasn’t actively aware of his movements at all. His breath hitched in his throat, and he looked a mess – pupils blown out, eyes dark as night, hair disheveled, mouth red and puffed and bruising. There were faint love bites blooming on his neck already, ones that would turn a deep red, or a deep purple by the next morning. The sun had almost set behind the horizon, was casting its’ last, weak rays upon the planet – and those last, weak rays of golden light seemed all to land on the man beneath you. He shone, almost golden himself, chest and cheeks flushed red, and he was glowing. Glowing in the way he looked at you, glowing the smile he granted you, genuine, true. He waited on you, waited on a kiss, or on something else, something more, maybe. Yet he let you stare at him, let you admire him in the last, weak rays of sunshine that seemed to have been saved up for him, solely – and then you kissed him, unable to resist wide eyes and longing mouth, and he kissed you back. Touched you, and you let your hands wander down his body, not missing a single line on it, not missing an inch before your hand palmed his crotch. You could sit and kiss him forever, could bask in him and his body for eternity – but you were impatient, too, especially when it came to him, to your lover. When it was him, you lost control of yourself, of your body, of your soul. It belonged to him entirely, all of it.
He let you sink onto him. Hyunjin let you bury your face in the sweatiness of his neck, in its’ sensitivity, let you groan out into his ear as you felt him bottom out entirely. He let you adjust to him, and you let him hold you, against him, against his body, your heart against his own, chest to chest. You let him whisper sweet nothings, promises, and confessions, and entire worlds. You loved his never tiring tongue in moments of intimacy – he talked and talked and talked, words sweeter than honey could ever be, and sounds more sinful than anything you’d ever known.
You screamed out when he moved. Thrusting his hips into your own, up and deeper inside of you, and you struggled to keep your composure. Your arms snug tightly around his body, around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer – you melted into one as he kept moving into you, both hands keeping a steady position on your hips, to hold you in place, or to grant you stability, or to grant himself some. And the room erupted into a symphony of your voices, of your moans and grunts and sighs, whispers and whines of each other’s names. Your senses filled with everything that was him – his voice, deep and longing and loud in your ear, his hand bruising your flesh, groping at you so harshly you saw stars, his scent, his golden body, his mouth on your skin. Everything was him, his erection so very deep within you that it almost hurt, though not quite, his right hand which suddenly found its’ way to your clit again. Drawing figures eight there impatiently as his hips grew frantic, slowly losing rhythm.
Your body ignited. It was hot, it was wet and a mess, and it was fifteen minutes past four. The broken clock on the wall behind Hyunjin capturing you two in its’ timelessness, in its infinity. It had stopped solely for you, for your love, for your souls. Your eyes closed shut when Hyunjin bit against your neck, when his teeth grazed your skin just deep enough to not break it, to not draw blood, and you came against his body in shaking waves, with a broken moan which was swallowed by the man in an instant. You felt him fill you up as he groaned into the kiss, as he let his tongue enter your mouth in lazy manner, careless now of sloppiness, of the lack of coordination. He held you close, he thrusted into you tiredly, he let you hold him. He let you kiss him, just as tired, just as lazy, basking in him, in his taste, in his scent.
Milan was beautiful. Night began to drown the city in darkness, buildings and trees, cars and people and the world losing color, quieting down. But it was still fifteen minutes past four – and you sat in Hyunjin’s hold for an eternity longer, in hushed giggles and shy confessions, and loved each other throughout the entirety of the night.
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@es-kay-zee @jeyelleohe @angelwonie @yvniek4ng @ppiri-bahng @bintificreads @svintsandghosts @llunapastell @sensitiveandhungry @minniesvenus @junebug032 @noellllslut @wolfennracha @unexceptional-h @like-a-diamondinthesky @katsukis1wife
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sisisimss · 5 months
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2k follower + Christmas Sim Dump
Thank you so much for putting up with me and my shenanigans this whole year whether that be on here, twitter or tiktok. I've experienced so much growth and community and for that I am grateful! I made new friends, found new avenues to explore, embraced my creativity and I can't wait to continue doing so in 2024. I've said similar last year, and I'm not so good with the mushy stuff, but here's a gift from me to you for giving me a platform to share a hobby (simming) that I experienced alone for almost 20 years, until now. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to those who celebrate!
From top left to right: Sarai, Sevyn, Keanu, Kade, Noemi, Amihan, Sacari, Noel
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How to install this sim dump:
Unzip the downloaded folder and place the tray files into your Sims 4 Tray folder, which can be found at Documents » Electronic Arts » The Sims 4 » Tray. Can also download from the gallery (gallery id: simplug)
Place cc files from the cc folder into the Mods folder located at Documents » Electronic Arts » The Sims 4 » Mods.
Make sure to download all the custom content and sliders in the cc folder or else your sim will look different than mine
Here’s a video tutorial for the visual learners
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-Do not repost or reupload my sims without credit or behind a paywall. If you decide to use my sims in your media, pleaseeeee tag me so I can see!
Download Here bestie
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confietti · 5 months
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pt. 2 of Emo!choso
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EMO!CHOSO who caressed your face while whispering sweet nothings into your ear while you cried into his chest because of your cramps. :(
EMO!CHOSO who was awfully confused the first time you sent him out to buy pads for you.
cho<3: baby whats ur pussy size? princess💝💝: what? princess💝💝: choso answer the phone. 🤦🏾‍♀️
EMO!CHOSO who your lash tech hates because he loves to cum on your face the same day she does your lashes. (he'll always pay for them, though.❤️)
EMO!CHOSO who you can never watch movies with because not even halfway through one you feel a hand slip down your underwear, causing you to look up only to be met with his shit-eating grin.
EMO!CHOSO who doesn't talk much but does silly things to you when he's bored. Randomly biting your shoulder, nudging your head with his nose, etc.
EMO!CHOSO whose idea of a good 'date night' is making out for hours and hours to his favorite songs.
EMO!CHOSO who loves to pull you into heated makeout sessions in public that leave you flustered and horny for the rest of the day.
EMO!CHOSO who will randomly smother his face into your ass while you're on your phone and you don't mind one bit.
EMO!CHOSO who has no problem paying for your hair products, braids, wigs, nails, lashes, etc. because he knows how expensive these things can be and refuses to not put at least some money towards getting them for you.
EMO!CHOSO who your parents still hate but have learned to tolerate because they've come to realize that he wasn't going anywhere.
EMO!CHOSO who took you too an art gallery as your 'official first date'. but instead of focusing on the art like you were, he was more captivated by you.. long story short, you ended up fucking in the bathroom by the end of the 'date.'
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Bonus: Your loud moans bounced off the 4 walls of the men's restroom as choso pounded in you mercilessly. Your pretty dark red dress hiked up past your waist as drool dripped on your now exposed breasts. "You're doin' great sweets.. cum f'me, yeah?" his sadistic smile in the mirror was the last thing you saw before your vision blurred and you saw stars. that was the best 'official first date' you've ever had.
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a/n: tysm for the support on pt.1 !!
© confietti, 2023. do not copy, steal, or repost my content without permission.
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prettybean · 5 months
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THEY’RE PERVERTS (COD +18)
* just for fun 🤐 don’t take it too seriously
ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE
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Ghost
He doesn't even realize how his eyes wander over your chest every time you stand in front of him. He tries his best to keep his focus on your face, but as soon as you start talking, his gaze involuntarily shifts downwards. He fantasized about your breasts countless times: he'd help you aim the rifle, standing closely behind you, just to secretly admire how they press against the weapon.
After practice, he would rush to his room, desperate to relieve the ache in his groin, picturing his cock between your breasts.
Soap
He felt like a creep: every time you went to take a shower, he would sneak into your room and crack open the bathroom door. Your naked body was too tempting for him, so he would pleasure himself discreetly until you finished and got dressed. Obviously, you caught on. This guy couldn't keep his mouth shut and you heard him moaning outside your door multiple times.
The next time you bumped into him, you couldn't resist teasing him. "Hey John, feel free to jerk off in my bathroom next time too."
Price
He adores it when you dress up in seductive attire for him, and you enjoy the power you have to arouse him simply by revealing your skin slowly. Whenever you're away from home, he eagerly rummages through your drawer, caressing the delicate fabric in his hands before using it to pleasure himself. He longs for you intensely, and the scent of you drives him wild. He vigorously rubs your panties against his throbbing length until they become stained with his release.
You've noticed on multiple occasions that your underwear has gone missing, and you're well aware of your boyfriend's kinky side. Despite this, you choose to ignore it.
Gaz
His gallery is full of nudes of you. Every time you two have sex, Kyle feels compelled to capture the moment, whether it's him fucking you or just you in a revealing pose. He spends his days admiring the pictures, proudly sharing them with his friends, as if they were a work of art (with your permission, of course). The sight of your dripping pussy on his phone screen brings a smile to his face, making his day. He leans in and whispers in your ear, "Darling, let me take another pic, I'll do whatever you want”.
Alejandro
Alejandro has a strong attraction to your legs. The sight of them in your uniform makes him feel aroused. He frequently requests you to wear high stockings, and you happily oblige. As the stockings cling to your thick thighs, Alejandro becomes more and more infatuated with their smoothness.
He lovingly touches and kisses them, gently caressing, nibbling, and even licking them. "Mi amor, I need your thighs around my fucking cock".
Graves
He takes pleasure in humiliating you. He's so twisted that he may publicly lift your skirt, revealing your underwear to everyone on his team. Your flushed face becomes his source of satisfaction. Even when you're walking alone with Philip, he wouldn't hesitate to tug your neckline down, exposing your breasts.
Many times, he deserves a firm slap from you, but your love for him is too strong. He'd even have the audacity to say, "Damn, next time, don't even bother wearing panties."
König
He couldn't resist letting you know how much you turned him on. Every time you bent down to tie your shoe or pick something up, he positioned himself behind you, pressing his hard erection against you. Even when you were cooking, he couldn't resist rubbing his cock against your ass. You loved hearing how excited he got, so much so that sometimes you purposely put yourself in ambiguous positions for him.
"König, my phone is under the bed," you say, bending down to retrieve it. Without hesitation, he gets behind you and thrusts his hips against your slit. "Search better, Schatz," he says with a mischievous grin.
Keegan
He couldn't help but find your tears beautiful. It stirred something inside him. You were a sensitive soul, crying at the slightest provocation - whether it was pain, anger or even joy. Keegan always tried to be there for you when you were upset, offering comfort and wiping away your tears. But every time he saw you cry, he couldn't help but feel a certain arousal. He tried to hide it, but you noticed the bulge in his pants.
“Sorry baby, sometimes it happens”, but you didn't mind. In fact, you found it exciting. When he fucked you, your tears only made it better. And he responded by pounding you harder and harder, as if he couldn't get enough.
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simplyanjuta · 3 months
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Posing Interaction for Babies (Newborns)
This mod adds an interaction to the bassinet to play poses with babies.
Based on my testing the interaction works wherever the sim is, even off lot. The baby spawns to your sim and afterwards back to the bassinet (little demo below).
As a placeholder I included a set of Gallery poses with babies. However, you can override them with your own. For that purpose, I’m including the pose files separately as well as the blend file I used that you can then use as a base (the blend file is saved in Blender 3.6). (You don't need to put the blend file into your mods folder.) Here is an alternative set of poses I made that you can use with the interaction.
XML Injector Required The XML injector is a tool/library that can be used to add interactions without the need to write your own script (another one that you might know is lot51’s core library). A script in my case would have been needed to add the posing interaction without overriding the existing game file with the baby tuning. The XML injector does that for me.
Download: SFS | Mediafire
This was just an experiment tbh but I was surprised that it works so well and so I ended up wrapping it up. But anyhow, in game interactions are pretty new to me, so let me know if there's any issue.
If you need any help making your own poses, you can also drop by in our Discord server for pose makers.
Some background information:
The baby is an object in-game that is connected to the adult sim via the stigmata bone for poses/animations – similar to poses with accessories, if you’re familiar with that. The difference is that you also need to pose the baby itself. I have some additional notes in this tutorial for Gallery poses with babies that I made a while ago.
Note that you can’t export baby poses or animations via S4S the standard way since you can’t select the baby rig in the S4S export options. I did this with a workaround by exporting the clips from the Game File Cruiser, then importing them to Blender using an add-on (it’s actually a deactivated part of the Blender add-on that S4S uses and it’s only functional in Blender 2.7).
However, you can import the blend files with baby poses to the package file like you normally would since the rig selection is not relevant for the import.
Below a little demo, sorry for the bad quality :D
@ts4-poses @luthsthings
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roosterforme · 9 months
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Alone With All Your Letters | Hangman x Reader
Summary: You had been with Jake for so long, he could barely remember himself without you. But he was ready for more, and he was tired of waiting for you to catch up to him. With a few ugly words, he broke your heart. And with one handwritten letter, you brought him to his knees. 
Warnings: Angst, smut, age gap, fluff, talk of pregnancy, 18+
Length: 3700
Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader
Seriously, who let Jake on my masterlist!? Banner by @mak-32
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You had been with Jake for a long time. Almost seven years to be exact. And while he loved you and knew he wanted to be with you, sometimes it was hard for him to come to terms with the fact that you and he were still at slightly different places in your lives. 
He'd met you when you were still in college. College. And he had been... a bit removed from school by that point. He had been new to Top Gun and San Diego when you slammed into his life. You were out celebrating your twenty first birthday at the same bar where he was celebrating his thirty third. You were clearly mortified when you ruined his shoes with a pitcher of spilled beer. But when he laughed, you looked so relieved, he let you buy him a drink.
And then you let him buy you several. And then you let him get you an Uber. And then he joined you in the Uber and spent the rest of the weekend at your apartment.
"Jake?" you asked, holding up two dresses next to your shared closet in his house. "Which one for brunch?"
They were both short and would show off your legs. Jake would get looks from other guys his age when he kissed your neck or wrapped his arm around your waist. He would get the occasional, "Nice going, bro." Or even the, "Daaamn." 
You were young. You were hot. But Jake would much rather spend the day at home relaxing with you instead of heading out to a boozy brunch with your friends. Especially the day before an eight week deployment. 
"The blue one, Honey," he told you with a soft smile. As he watched you get changed, he stood and tried to choose a shirt for himself. But he was tired of helping you pick out outfits and trying to coordinate how his shirts looked with your dresses. It didn't matter. It was exhausting. 
And that was the trade-off for being in love with someone twelve years younger. He was in love with a woman who loved him back with every fiber of her being, but he was also in love with a woman who put off the things he wanted to do. He no longer wanted rowdy beach vacations and dancing all night in clubs. He wanted to go to Europe and visit galleries. He no longer wanted to go out to eat every night. He wanted to stay in with you and make a meal together. 
He always felt the clash. Always felt like he was conceding with what he wanted for what you wanted. And it had never been more obvious than when he asked you a few years ago if you ever wanted to have kids. 
"Sure, Jake," you had told him, kissing his cheek. "I love kids. But not yet. In another year or two."
He hated bringing it up, he really did. But your answer was always the same. In another year or two. But it had been three years, going on four. And nothing you were doing was telling him you were getting close to that point yet. 
But he got dressed for this brunch that he didn't want to go to. And he held the door and talked to your friends and drank a mimosa. But he just wanted to be at home, enjoying the last day before he shipped out on an aircraft carrier. 
Later that night, Jake watched you change into some lacy, light pink lingerie that looked delicious on you. And then you made a big production of avoiding his grasp with a laugh. 
"Wait a second," you told him, pushing him playfully away. "I have to put something in your duffle bag." He unbuttoned his shirt as you rooted around in your nightstand drawer and pulled out a stack of envelopes just like you always did. "Make sure you read them in order," you whispered, bending to tuck them into his bag.
"I always do, Honey. Now come here." 
You treated him to your mouth and your hands and your pussy, letting him have whatever he asked for. And he fell asleep wrapped around your body, listening to you say, "I love you, Jake. I'll miss you so much."
But the next morning, he felt anxious in that way where he knew he needed to say something again. He'd be arriving back in port just before his fortieth birthday. He knew he was getting older. He knew what he wanted. But if there was never going to be a compromise with the timeline, then he needed to be the one to make the decision for both of you.
As you stood before him on the dock, tears in your eyes and your arms around his neck, he couldn't hold the words back. "Honey. I love you, but... I don't know if this is working for me anymore."
He watched your face fall and your lips part into a look of shock. Your voice was only a desperate whisper. "Jake?"
This was miserable, but he had to do it. He swallowed his guilt and said, "I don't know what to do here. I don't know if you're even happy with where we are, but I'm struggling. I'm about to be forty. I'm tired of going out all the time. I'm tired of waiting another year and another year and another year to get serious about kids. I love you, and I want to do that with you, but I can't force you. So if we aren't on the same page any longer, then maybe we need to end things."
Your lips were quivering, and your eyes were welling up with even more tears as you let your arms fall away from his body. You stepped backwards, putting some distance between the two of you. Your gaze started to change from one of sadness to one of anger. And Jake regretted it. He regretted everything he just said, but it was too late to take it back. So he stood there in it and let the disgusting feeling of remorse wash over him. 
"Honey-"
But his name was being called now, and you stepped away again when he reached for you. "Goodbye, Jake," you whispered, your voice rough with unshed tears as you swiped at your eyes. 
He turned and walked toward the long, daunting ramp that would take him to his deployment and away from you. Perhaps forever. Every time he turned back to look at you, there were more tears in your eyes, but you hadn't moved an inch. When he made his way onto the carrier deck, he dropped his bag and pulled out his phone. 
Jake called you over and over, watching you standing on the dock as you ignored his calls before tucking your phone away. He called your name, screamed it over the noise from the crowd of people seeing their loved ones off. He hollered until his voice was hoarse. And then he got his phone out again, waiting with shaking hands until he got your voicemail. 
He was looking right at you, and you were looking back at him as he said, "Honey, please. I'm so sorry. Please. I didn't mean any of it. I love you. I need you. I need you to be there when I get home. Please! Fuck! I'm sorry. Please stop ignoring my calls! I love you."
With shaking hands, he ended the call and redialed your number. Once again he watched you ignore the call, so he left you voicemail after voicemail as the aircraft carrier pulled away from the dock. He apologized as many ways as he could until your inbox was full and you were just a speck in the distance. 
Jake collected himself off of the deck and made his way to his tiny bunk where he sank down onto the unmade bed and cried. What was he thinking? If he had to choose between a life with you or one without you, he wanted to choose you. He fucked up, and now there was no way you were going to listen to him. There was no way you'd be there when he got home. 
He just broke your heart and then his own with a handful of idiotic sentences that he said in place of having an actual conversation with you. If he ever accused you of being less mature than he was, well, he was wrong about that, too. This had to be the dumbest thing he had ever done. 
"Fuck," he groaned as he started unpacking his bag. But your letters to him were right there, and he thought he was going to throw up as he untied the stack and took the top envelope in his hands. 
That would be your revenge in a way. He would spend his deployment opening all of your sweet notes to him. You always did this, and he always loved reading them. But now he'd let them hurt. He would let himself feel pain. 
But he was in no way prepared for what he read in that first letter.
Jake,
I miss you already! I'm probably still on the dock waving and crying, watching you sail away. Eight weeks isn't forever, but I know every day is going to feel impossible without you. And I know you'll feel the same way. So let me send you off with a little bit of hope and a promise. When I told you I had a last minute appointment on Wednesday, I had my IUD removed. And I didn't get another one in its place. I'm ready. When you get back in two months, let's go for it. Let's make you a Daddy.
All my love
He folded the note back up as neatly as you had, and then he tucked it back inside the envelope and sprawled across the bed with his forearm over his eyes. And he didn't move for a long time.
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Jake was basically useless out of the cockpit. He flew his missions, and completed his training exercises, but he had to force himself to eat and go to the gym. There was no outside communication allowed this time around, so he had no way to talk to you, not that you would have answered your phone for him. 
To make things worse, he'd been rationing your letters to him, spreading out the pain, prolonging the agony. Each one was sweeter than the last, and each one made him ache. But he read that first letter every night before he went to sleep. Because, for the briefest point in time, he'd had everything he wanted. And now he had, well, essentially nothing. And because he had nobody to go home to, the weeks were flying by. He was nearing the end now. Nearing his fortieth birthday, and wishing he could just stay for another deployment. 
Silently, he packed his bag that final morning, but he held onto your letters, wanting to feel their weight in his hand. After nearly seven years of having you standing on the dock waiting for him to arrive home, he was going to have to call himself a cab. He'd go home and process things the best he could without you, but first he would stand there and watch everyone else fall into the arms of their loved ones. 
Jake tossed his duffle bag over his shoulder and wound his way down the ramp. He took a deep breath as his boots hit California soil, and he walked slowly into the crowd of people on the dock. The evening sun was still bright and hot as he was jostled around by all of the bodies. Choruses of 'I missed you!' and 'I love you so much!' rang out around him. When he closed his eyes, he could practically hear your voice, that's how well he remembered every single time you collected him here, took him home, and made love to him. 
But when he opened his eyes, he gasped. You were standing off toward the back of the crowd, face expressionless as the setting sun illuminated your features and your yellow sundress. The color of honey. Why were you here? To have your chance at telling him off? Or perhaps... 
"Honey?" he called out, suddenly shoving his way through the crowd. "Honey!" He rushed to you as quickly as he could, but you didn't move an inch. The only thing that changed was your expression, which was turning more apprehensive as he closed in. 
"Jake," you whispered when he was right in front of you. He hated the look you were giving him. There was an awful sensation in the pit of his stomach, a mix of wanting to reach out to hold you, but terrified of the rejection you were probably about to rightfully hit him with. 
"Honey. I fucked up."
You nodded, and the softest smile found its way to your lips. "You really did, Jake."
He dropped his bag to the ground. "Even if you're only here to slap me in the face, will you listen to me for a minute first?" When you nodded, he said, "I was frustrated. I'm getting older. I'm getting old for my career. I'm getting old to have a kid. And I feel at times like I'm too old for you to be satisfied with me."
"Jake, that's not true," you insisted, eyes bright with tears. When he ran his fingers along your jaw you didn't stop him. 
"Whether it's true or not, it's in my head. And I can't get it out," he whispered. "But I love you. I want to be with you. As soon as I told you otherwise, I regretted every single word, Honey. I didn't have to read any of your letters to know I had just made the worst mistake of my life. I didn't even make it all the way onto the carrier before I was calling you."
"I know," you whispered as one stray tear slid down your cheek. "I know you didn't read the note before you called me. I was watching you the whole time."
Jake brushed the tear away, fighting the urge to press his lips to that spot. "Then why didn't you answer me?" he asked softly. 
"Because I was mad. I'm still kind of mad at you. Either I'm enough, or I'm not. What if I can't even have kids? You were just going to leave me?"
"No," he swore, shaking his head. "The fact that you said you were willing to try with me is more than enough. Okay? You're more than enough, Honey. I love you."
You swallowed hard and let out a shaky breath. "I wasn't lying when I told you that I'd catch up to where you were someday. I never lied to you, Jake. So next time don't try to rush me into something, okay?"
He reached for your hand. "Next time?"
You nodded. "Yeah. Don't fuck up again."
"Does that mean you'll stay with me?" he asked, desperation in his voice as he wrapped his arms around your waist. 
"Yes."
Jake pulled you against him, his lips meeting your forehead as he squeezed you. He let himself cry out all of the pain and hopelessness he had contained the best he could for the past eight weeks as you held him.
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Today was his birthday. Forty. Jake was pretty sure he was on the verge of needing reading glasses, and sometimes his shoulder hurt when he got out of bed if he slept funny. But last night he slept funny because you were wrapped around him in bed. So it was worth it.
Things had been a little shaky after you picked him up at the end of his deployment a week ago. He'd begged you to stay with him in his house and work through things. You'd been living with him for so long, he honestly couldn't imagine his place without you anymore. You were having open conversations together, and Jake was finally starting to feel like things were getting back to normal. 
But he hadn't asked you once about your IUD, thinking maybe you'd changed your mind when he was deployed, after he word vomited all of his insecurities on you. No, he wasn't going to mention anything about birth control until you brought it up. So quite frankly, he wasn't quite sure if you and he had had sex with or without birth control last night. 
Jake went through his day, hoping that when he got home from work, you'd be there. And that maybe today would be the day you'd make it clear what you wanted now.
"Honey?" he called out after he unlocked his front door. 
"I'm in the bedroom, birthday boy!"
Jake smiled and headed toward your voice, stopping short in the doorway. You were perched on the edge of his desk wearing that light pink lingerie he loved so much. There was a cupcake on a plate next to you, and as he approached, he watched you strike a match and light the candle. Then you pursed your pretty lips to blow out the match, and Jake was right there. He kissed you, raking his fingers along your soft skin, so thankful you were with him. 
"Happy birthday," you managed between kisses.
"You look like my present, wrapped up all pretty."
Your soft laughter filled him up. "I actually got you a watch, but sure, I can be your present." You hopped down from the desk and ran your hands along the front of his uniform before taking his hand. As you led him toward the bed, you looked back at him, your eyes unguarded. "I'm still figuring out my cycles now," you muttered, shrugging nervously, "but I'm pretty sure I'm ovulating today."
"Honey," Jake groaned. "Say it. Please, say it."
But instead of saying anything, you crawled across the bed, letting him see your gorgeous ass. And when you eased yourself down onto your back and spread your legs wide, you asked him, "Don't you want to fuck a baby into me?"
Jake's eyes went wide as he unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it aside along with his undershirt. Then he eased himself down onto the bed, grabbing the backs of your thighs and kissing your core through the lace.
"Say it," he begged, watching you bite your lip and press your head back into the bedding. "Honey."
"I'm ready, Jake. I'm ready to make you a daddy."
With those words, Jake drew your legs back together and gently removed your underwear, letting the lace glide along your soft skin. And when he eased your legs apart again, he groaned. "You're perfect. I can't get enough." He pressed his lips and nose to your pussy, inhaling your sweet scent as he stroked your hips and belly with both hands. 
He could already picture you round and pregnant. He'd been imagining how beautiful you would be as a mom for years and years. When he kissed your belly button, you pushed your fingers through his hair. There was nobody else he'd ever wanted to do this with. 
When he met your eyes, there was a smile playing on your lips as you whispered, "Jake, we're going to have to do this all the time now. You know that, right?"
He groaned softly as he unclasped your bra and let his lips settle on your tits. "Yeah, I know," he told you, running his nose along the undersides of your breasts. "I'll fuck you full of my cum, nice and deep. Keep you full for as long as it takes."
"Oh, fuck," you gasped as he sucked on your nipples and unzipped his uniform pants. And then he was thrusting inside you, and the little sounds you made were the filthiest things he'd ever heard. He went harder, deeper, thinking about how he'd make sure you always had his cum inside you. How you'd smell like him. How he'd be on you all the time. 
"You're gonna look perfect carrying my child," he whispered, and you wrapped your legs around his waist. "Everyone will know what I did to you. Everyone will know how bad I wanted it."
The way you responded to him was too much. Your back was arched, and he could feel you tightening around him. "Everyone will know," you echoed in a moan. "They'll know you fuck me so good, Jake."
His forehead came to rest against yours as he panted. "You ready?" he grunted. "I'll fill you up right now."
"Yes," you whispered, taking his fingers and guiding them to your clit. With a few slow circles, he had you whining and squirming as you started to climax.
"Stay still, Honey," he whispered, his voice rough now. "Keep it all inside."
You were keening from his words and your orgasm as Jake filled you with his cum. "Fuck," you whined, and it was so loud and needy, he rammed his cock deep and held you to him while he pulsed inside you.
"Don't move, don't move," he whispered, kissing and licking your tits as your fingers stroked through his hair. "Don't waste it."
He was in love with you and the feel of your body. You wanted what he wanted. He would make it his mission to get you pregnant. 
"God, Jake." Your voice was raw and harsh as you said, "I'm getting your creampies around the clock now, aren't I?"
He lifted your hips gently off the bed and watched as he slowly withdrew himself from your pretty pussy as you whined softly. And when his cum started to dribble out of you, he gently fucked you with two fingers, pushing it deeper. "Around the clock," he confirmed. "Now let me eat my birthday cupcake and then I'll fill you up again."
You ended up sitting naked on Jake's lap and laughing while you had to pick the melted wax off of the icing. Then you fed him the cupcake, sneaking a bite for yourself as his cum oozed out of you and onto his khaki pants. He'd fuck you full again later. He'd keep doing it as long as it took.
"Happy birthday, Daddy," you whispered.
----------------------
I wrote Jake again? It's becoming a habit now. Thanks for reading this one! And thanks for @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls
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