justt-emi

[justt-emi]

Omg i just need more of this

🐕

sitting on puppy arts face

"please?"

he’d been asking for this for so long, but your response was always,

“i’d crush you.”

or

“it’d be no different than how you always go down on me.”

or

“you’re the one with the upper body strength, not me.”

his hands glide across your thighs in a soothing manner. “cmonnnn. you know how strong i am. i wouldn’t let you crush me.”

your face feels tight, while his hold those rounded eyes that always get him what he wants.

fuck it.

“ok.” you mumble

you swear his ears perk up.

“what?”

“we can do it but you have to promise to tap me if it’s too much.”

he’s worn you down.

how marvelous, he thinks.

“i will. i promise.” he says with a huge smile on his face.

you swallow and scooch up his chest, his shoulders, and then finally his face.

hovering.

you feel so awkward. why do you feel awkward? this is your sweetheart! it’s not like he’s never seen you naked before. he’s just never done… this before.

he repeats the grazing motion with his hands.

the next time he speaks his tone is meek.

“you’re so soft, momma.”

it makes you smile, not that he can see it.

when art puts his mouth on you, it’s all over.

it’s not like all the other times he’s gone down on you. everything’s more intense from up here.

art doesn’t ease you into it either. he’s waited long enough, give him his treat !

pulling on the meat of your thighs to bring you as close as physically possible.

the whole lower half of his face is slippery.

you groan from deep in your throat. throwing your head back and your hair falling behind.

you squeeze your eyes shut.

the only sound besides your incessant moaning is arts tongue going 80 miles per hour.

it’s not far off from a dog slurping up water on a hot day.

his tongue is everywhere. alternating going inside, sucking on each lip, and bullying your clit. he’s not going to leave any party out, he’s a good boy !

how the fuck he’s able to fit a whole one of your lips in his mouth you have no idea. he has had lots of practice to be fair.

“fuck,” you cry and grip his boyish curls “i can’t-“

your chest is heaving. it’s so warm in your belly. it feels sweet, almost.

he moans just as loud as you. they would be, at least, if they weren’t muffled.

“please, momma,” he catches his breath, “let me have a taste of your cum. let me finish you off.” he pleads.

you lean your forehead on the cool headboard infront of you. catching your breath but never stopping the grind of your hips.

he’s trying to slurp all your juices up but some drip down his chin and neck.

he adores the feeling. it gives him goosebumps.

cool and sticky. and it smells so good, he thinks he’s high.

this is the only drug he’ll ever crave.

“my favorite treat.” he all but sings.

then art does something he hasn’t before.

at least not in front of you.

he starts wiggling his hips back in forth. just a little bit but it’s consistent and noticeable. almost like he’s wagging an imaginary tail.

“m’gonna cum.”

that’s probably arts favorite phrase in the whole world.

half of him wants to slow down and make this last longer. but the other half, the half that will end up winning, wants to be showered in cum.

he focuses solely on your clit now. he can’t help but just take a tiny.. baby nibble. it’s just so cute and bite sized !! it’s such a fun chew toy for him.

it completely shocked you and made you yelp.

that’s what makes the coil in your stomach snap.

he knew it would.

you forget how to breathe for a moment. you freeze, seemingly weightless. your whole body going limp.

you screech and are trying to get away, it’s too much. but also trying to bury him deeper because nothings ever felt this good.

the aftershocks last a long time. you crouch there with your mouth open and every hair on your body standing up.

he took a moment to stare at the aftermath. he’s mesmerized. very proud of his hard work. and he decides that’s his new favorite color.

it’s spread on your thighs, dripping down your ass.

neither of you are surprised . art is a messy eater.

without warning, art eats the cum from your weeping pussy. making you convulse and arch your back.

“uhhh!!”

he can’t help himself :(

“artie-“ you pant “too much.”

“just a little more,” he begs “this part tastes different.”

he doesn’t wait for you to respond. usually you’d scold him for this lack of manners but you weren’t about to pretend he wasn’t taking you to nirvana.

currents of electricity flow through your veins, you can visualize it. you’re not sure who’s having more fun: you or art.

when he’s done feasting, he manhandled your weak body so you’re properly laying down. he crawls up to your face. giving you puppy kisses aka big licks on your cheek. licks that coincidentally smell like you.

it breaks you out into a chuckle.

“thank you, baby” you say petting his hair

“thank you, are you kidding?”

you realize how much… everything is on his face.

“you’re messy.”

your genuine laughter is contagious.

“can you blame me?”

you shake your head.

he slowly laid his head on your naked chest. eyes already drooping.

“my babyyy,” you cooed.

he let out a faint happy noise into your skin.

“took such good care of mommy,”

“hnnnh”

“that’s right, you’re a good boy.”

you placed a peck on his forehead.

“lud you, mommy,” he mumbled, eyelids fighting to stay open. “so much…”

“aw, i love you too sweet pea.”

you gave his head scratches till he was out cold.

he fell asleep with your nipple in his mouth that night.

puppied out.

[justt-emi]

OH MY SHAYLAAAAA 😭😭

oh okay so i’m fucking ill

[justt-emi]

This is me btw....

[justt-emi]

Need more of this pleaseeeee 😭😭

stalker !

fratboy!patrick zweig x reader

a/n: i haven’t written in sooo long but thinking of making a part two if u like it☺️

patrick never had to try. his life was effortless, a constant stream of wins. the hottest guy at every party, the one everyone gravitated toward. he was arrogant, untouchable—a king without a crown.

then he saw her.

she wasn’t loud, wasn’t trying to be noticed. she didn’t need to. the way she moved, unbothered and self-contained, drew him in like nothing ever had. she was wearing something simple, not flashy, but somehow it made her unforgettable. her laugh, barely audible over the thrum of music, wrapped itself around his chest and squeezed.

patrick didn’t approach her. for the first time, he hesitated. he just stood there, gripping a drink he didn’t want, feeling ridiculous. his usual smirk faltered as she glanced in his direction, her gaze skating past him without a second thought.

he left that party changed. the next morning, she was all he could think about. he scrolled through mutuals on socials, searching for a face he barely saw but couldn’t forget. when he found her, it was like a light turned on inside him. everything about her fascinated him.

he pieced her life together, detail by detail. her classes, her favorite coffee shop, the way she tied her hair up when she was deep in thought. he memorized the sound of her voice in the library, soft and determined as she spoke to classmates.

but that wasn’t enough. patrick needed more.

he started “bumping into” her. at the library, the coffee shop, even in hallways he had no reason to be near. “hey, haven’t i seen you in econ?” he lied, his voice calm while his heart pounded. when she looked up, smiled faintly, and said, “maybe,” he felt like he’d been struck by lightning.

the first conversation spiraled into more. brief, fleeting exchanges he orchestrated like a conductor guiding a symphony. she didn’t notice how often he was nearby, watching, memorizing every little thing about her.

at night, he stood outside her dorm, staring at the light in her window. he imagined her inside, maybe laughing at something on her laptop, maybe brushing her hair, and his chest ached with something he couldn’t name.

it wasn’t enough to talk to her. he wanted to be close to her, to touch the strands of hair that fell over her shoulder, to hear her laugh and know it was because of him.

patrick, who had always been so cool, so aloof, was unraveling. he wasn’t himself anymore. he was hers. entirely, obsessively, only hers.

patrick’s obsession only grew. he convinced himself it wasn’t strange, wasn’t wrong—he was just curious. she had something about her, something magnetic, something he needed.

he started lingering longer in her spaces. her favorite corner of the library became his, too. he’d sit a table away, pretending to study while his eyes traced the way her fingers danced across her notebook, her pen tapping in rhythm to thoughts he desperately wanted to know.

once, she dropped her scarf in the coffee shop, a soft knit thing that smelled faintly of her perfume. he picked it up, holding it longer than necessary before rushing to catch up and return it. when she thanked him, her smile light and easy, his stomach twisted into knots.

he started planting himself in her life, little by little. he joined her group for a project in class, claiming he didn’t have anyone else. when she agreed, he nearly stammered a thank-you—nearly.

being near her was intoxicating, but it wasn’t enough. patrick wanted to know her secrets, her fears, the kind of music she played when she was sad. so, he started keeping notes—small, scribbled observations in the back of a worn notebook. “she likes chamomile tea. hums when she’s alone. hates when people crack their knuckles.” it was a record of her existence, the only thing that made him feel sane in the chaos of wanting her.

then, one night, he followed her. he told himself it wasn’t stalking—just curiosity. he watched as she left the coffee shop, her earbuds in, her head tilted down against the cold. she walked quickly, unaware of him slipping from shadow to shadow behind her. when she unlocked her dorm, the click of the door sounded final.

patrick stood outside for a moment, the ache in his chest unbearable. he wanted to knock, to say something, to make her look at him the way he looked at her. but he didn’t. instead, he leaned against the wall, staring up at her window, his breath fogging in the cold air.

she had no idea how much space she took up in his mind. every corner of his thoughts was hers. he wondered if she even knew his name or if he was just another face in her periphery.

—

patrick didn’t plan it. or at least, he told himself that. it wasn’t like he meant to end up outside her dorm room again, standing in the dim hallway, the silence around him broken only by the hum of fluorescent lights.

but he was there, wasn’t he?

her door was cracked open, just barely. he could hear faint music playing—a soft, melancholic melody—and the sound of her voice humming along. his heart thundered in his chest as he inched closer, the weight of his steps swallowed by the worn carpet.

he pushed the door open slowly, quietly, his breath held tight. she was sitting on her bed, her back to him, illuminated by the warm glow of a bedside lamp. she was reading something, her knees tucked up to her chest, completely unaware.

he shouldn’t be here. he knew that. but the sight of her, so peaceful, so her, made it impossible to turn away.

patrick took another step, and the floor creaked beneath his weight.

she froze.

“hello?” her voice was cautious but steady. she turned her head slightly, just enough to catch his silhouette in the doorway.

his mind raced for an excuse, a reason to explain why he was here. “sorry,” he blurted, his voice low. “your door was open. i didn’t mean to… scare you.”

she stared at him, wide-eyed, clutching the book to her chest like it could protect her. “patrick?”

he nodded, trying to appear calm, casual, as if this were normal. “yeah. uh… i was just passing by. thought maybe you needed help with something?”

she frowned, her confusion evident. “at eleven at night?”

patrick’s pulse hammered. she wasn’t buying it.

“okay, okay,” he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “i know this looks… weird. but i swear, i just wanted to check on you.”

“check on me?” she echoed, her voice sharp now. “patrick, we barely know each other.”

the words stung more than they should have. his jaw tightened, and something darker flickered behind his eyes. “i feel like i know you,” he said softly, stepping closer.

she stood, putting the bed between them. “you need to leave,” she said firmly, her voice shaking just enough to betray her fear.

patrick tilted his head, studying her like she was some delicate, breakable thing. “i can’t,” he murmured. “you don’t understand. i think about you all the time. i just wanted to see you, to talk to you.”

“this isn’t talking,” she snapped, her voice rising. “this is breaking in. this is insane!”

the word hit him like a slap. his lips twitched into a bitter smile. “insane?” he repeated, taking another step forward. “maybe. but you make me this way.”

she grabbed her phone, her fingers trembling as she tried to dial. “get out, or i’ll call the cops.”

patrick stopped, his expression shifting. his voice dropped to a near-whisper, equal parts pleading and menacing. “you don’t want to do that. please. just… let me explain.”

but the way she looked at him—like he was a stranger, a threat—tore something inside him. and as she pressed the button to call for help, patrick realized he wasn’t leaving without her. not tonight. not ever.

[justt-emi]

Ngl girls... He's literally thinking about me

[justt-emi]

Can someone make a sub art donalson x sub Patrick zweig x fem dom reader pls 😭😭😭

[justt-emi]

The way i would let this man....-

MIKE FAIST IN

CHALLENGERS — IN CONVERSATION: BAFTA Q&A