Little Picasso
Chan x Reader (fem.)
Genre: Dad! Chan, Established Relationship, Fluff, Slice-of-life
Warnings: none! (mention of word “sh*t”), somewhat proofread
WC: 3.8k
A/N: I had so much fun writing this! Might make a series of dad!skz. Feedback is always welcome, enjoy!
── MASTERLIST
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He had assured her.
The night before, the morning of.
“Don’t worry, we’ll be fine.”
“Go have fun with your friends. You haven’t seen them in forever.”
It was true. After Mimi was born, Y/N had been so preoccupied with the new chapter of motherhood that her outings had become sporadic, sometimes happening just once a month.
Her husband would urge her, “Babe, please go have some fun with your friends.”
Sure, they had date nights. Chan and she would frequently make time for each other while leaving their daughter in the care of either his parents or hers. Even though her mind would often wander back to thoughts of their toddler, Chan managed to keep her focused on their evening together, allowing them to enjoy each other’s company.
But when it was just her, when she managed to escape to do something she’d always enjoyed, things that didn’t involve errands, lists, or a child on her hip, all Y/N could think about was Mimi.
She wouldn’t say she was a helicopter mom. She wasn’t always trailing behind Mimi. But with their almost four-year-old inheriting her father’s chaotic nature whenever she got a bit too hyper, she couldn’t help but worry. When Mimi got excited, she would spiral out of control, often taking hours to calm down from her sugarless high.
Her husband was different. Bang Chan was always an anchor, level-headed and approaching things in his own orderly but calm fashion, making sure nothing bad would happen at all times. So, while some might think he would handle fatherhood similarly, he was different in that regard. Although he’d always keep a sharp eye out for dangerous situations, he wouldn’t always rush to the rescue as soon as Mimi cried. Instead, he would observe, waiting to see if she was truly hurt or if it was just a reaction to shock. Chan was the type to let Mimi try things that might result in her crashing to the ground or things around her crashing to the ground.
“It’s all life lessons. She’ll learn from them and approach things with more caution next time.”
While it was true that Mimi would tackle her failures with a more gentle approach, the worry never left Y/N.
But still, here she was, rethinking her decision about attending a brunch her best friend from college was hosting to kick off her wedding events. She already knew she was going to be included in her friend’s bridal party and would be honored to be a bridesmaid. Yet, on the morning of the event, she stood in front of her closet, staring at the dress she had set out the night before, filled with doubt.
“Maybe I should tell her I can’t make it?” She questioned, turning to find Chan in the middle of getting dressed.
“Babe, you can’t flake on her. You promised you’d be there.” He shook his head, reminding her of her best friend’s stern phone call warning that she’d better show up.
She sighed, hands resting on her hips, knowing she wouldn’t be able to actually not show without a guilty conscience. Chan came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her and resting his head on her shoulder.
“We talked about this. Everything will be okay here in your absence.”
She turned in his arms, meeting his soft gaze.
“I know, but I can’t help but worry. Every time I’m out alone, all I can think about is Mimi. I know she’s safe with you or our parents, but she’s become such a handful lately. I worry sometimes.”
Chan couldn’t disagree. Mimi was becoming a walking disaster, and even he felt anxious from time to time. But he was more concerned that if she continued to overthink, she might become overbearing and overprotective, which wouldn’t be good for either Mimi or herself in the long run.
“It’s part of growing up. She’ll get hurt, she’ll break things. But, even though she’s a little reckless, she’s such a good girl.” There was a proud glint in his eyes, and both his words and gaze convinced her for now.
“I should start getting ready then.” She sighed.
“Can I watch?” Chan mused, stepping back and eyeing her figure.
“Like you don’t already.” Y/N retorted with a roll of her eyes, earning a chuckle from him as he lounged back on the bed.
It was still early, and Mimi was still asleep in her room. She had well over two hours to prepare before she needed to head out, so there was no rush.
“She had too many of those snacks last night, so please don’t sneak some onto her plate.” She ordered, applying makeup while glancing at Chan through the dresser mirror.
He chuckled and nodded. “Got it.” He remained lounged back, supporting himself with his palms against the mattress.
“And the rug. I’m still worried about it… maybe we should put it—”
“Babe, relax. The rug looks great where it is. It’s been three days, and it’s still pristine.” Chan assured.
Which was true. Y/N had been contemplating for two weeks whether it was a good idea to place it out. She had been hauling it in and out of its spot for the better part of the week before Chan got tired of her indecisiveness. The rug was one of those wedding gifts she had forgotten about until she rediscovered it rolled up in storage. Still wrapped, still new and soft.
She sighed, grabbing her blush compact.
He was right. She was probably overthinking. Mimi understood when she told her to be careful on the rug. She even started tiptoeing on it to avoid ruining it.
Truth be told, Y/N was probably more nervous about seeing her group of college friends she hadn’t seen in forever. Besides her best friend, many of the group were much like herself. Married, with children, busy with their jobs and life. It had become harder for all of them to connect frequently. Her best friend’s celebration was a great excuse to bring everyone back together and have some time for themselves, which they hadn’t had in what felt like forever.
Chan noticed the unconscious smile that spread across her face as she thought about brunch. He was glad. She had been jittery since last night, planning her absence as if she were leaving for a vacation and not just a few hours.
“Which color?” Y/N asked, turning in her seat to hold up lipsticks for him to choose between.
He pondered for a moment before pointing at the right one, only for her to use the other. It still made him laugh, a cute habit of hers that she had ever since the two of them began dating. He still made a choice every time, knowing 9 out of 10 times she was always going to choose for herself anyways.
“That one is too pink.” She muttered, smacking her lips together, satisfied with her choice.
The sound of footsteps running across the floorboards growing closer made them both turn to the door, where their daughter made her entrance for the day, bedhead and all. Mimi ran into her father’s awaiting arms, still sleepy-eyed.
“Morning miss Mimo.” Chan chuckled at the sight of her, clearly pleased that she had slept well.
“Mommy looks pretty.” Mimi complimented with a groggy hum, watching her mother through the mirror, just like her dad had.
Y/N smiled, ready and all, standing up to show off her flowy dress.
“It’a green, your favorite color. Do you like it?” She asked, twirling around to reveal the cute pattern.
Mimi nodded, her eyes lighting up.
“I wanna wear a green dress too mommy!” She’s excited now.
Both Y/N and Chan laughed, and Chan patted down Mimi’s messy hair.
“Let’s take a bath and then get into our pretty dress. We do have a pretty green dress, right?” He’s looking at Y/N.
She nodded, and Chan immediately stood with arms outstretched for their three-year-old to jump into.
It isn’t until Mimi was getting into the bath, Y/N popped into the bathroom, fully ready to leave.
“I’m gonna head out now baby.” She said, her hand gently brushing Mimi’s cheek before she turned to Chan.
“Call me if anything happens. And remember—“
Chan leaned in and pecked her lips, cutting off the barrage of instructions she had been about to give.
“We’ll be good.” He said with a reassuring smile, turning to look down at their daughter, who was already distracted by the bubbles in her bath.
“We’ll be good, right Mimo?” Chan asked, and she responded with an enthusiastic “yes!”
Her loud “bye, Mommy!” echoed several times as she splashed in the water. Y/N walked out, calling back a “bye” before finally heading out the door.
As she stepped outside and the morning sun hit her, Y/N felt a wave of relief wash over her.
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“Okay Mimo what should we do today?” Chan leaned against the counter, having just cleaned his daughter’s face from the remnants of their breakfast.
“Snackies!” Mimi wriggled in her seat, pointing towards the cabinet where her mother usually kept the snacks, out of her reach.
The father chuckled, dropping his head. If he stared at her face any longer, he might cave and actually give her the snacks, which he was specifically instructed not to.
“You just ate baby. Let’s do something else, hmm?” He ignored her slight pout, picking her up under one arm and hauling her into the living room like a purse. Her fit of giggles was immediate, a distraction that worked like a charm.
The first hour of their morning was spent watching one of those random cartoons Mimi had stumbled upon one day and had become obsessed with since. Chan watched intently, trying to make sense of the random storyline and wondering why his three-year-old wasn’t confused by what was going on.
By the second hour, Mimi had moved on to clattering her toy tea set loudly in the living room. Chan glanced up every few minutes from his place at the dining table, busy with some work on his laptop but keeping an eye on his daughter. When the clattering stopped, he looked up to find Mimi staring at the TV, almost hypnotized.
“Daddy! Paint!” The child shouted, running to him and tugging at his hands to bring him to the television.
He looked at the bright screen, trying to understand what had his daughter so excited. Mimi was jumping at his side, tugging on his hand. Chan placed his phone down on the coffee table and turned his full attention to the television, his brows furrowing as he tried to make sense of what was happening.
A puppet dressed as a painter stood in front of a canvas with “Picasso’s Corner” messily painted on it.
Great.
Chan wondered how he was going to distract her this time. He knew she was even more excited about painting because she had recently been given a paint set from one of his close friends, which she hadn’t had a chance to use yet.
Stupid Hyunjin, Chan thought.
But as he glanced down at Mimi’s pleading puppy eyes, he immediately caved. He couldn’t blame himself. He was already heartbroken from the first time he had ignored her request for snacks. How could he deny her this fun activity that she was so excited about?
So, Chan cleared the dining table, spreading newspaper across it to protect the wood from any potential spills, which were bound to happen, even if the paints were labeled as washable. Mimi was beaming in her seat, wriggling with excitement and holding brushes in both hands. Chan chuckled at her enthusiasm, handing her one of the mini canvases that came with the kit.
“You excited Little Picasso?” He laughed, tearing away the plastic and packaging from the bottles of paint.
Another nickname added to Chan’s list of endless, adorable things he called his daughter. Even Mimo came from their game of hide-and-seek, which was strictly called “Finding Mimo” in their household.
“Yes! So excited!” Mimi’s eyes were wide, and her grin was the biggest Chan had seen in a long time, melting his heart with her adorable expression.
True to her new nickname, Little Picasso dove right in, her brush creating blobs and streaks of green, red, and yellow on the blank canvas. Of course, the paint quickly spread to her fingers, the newspaper, and even her face. Chan noticed the splatter on her dress and quickly checked the label on the paint bottle to confirm it was indeed washable. He sighed in relief when he saw that it was.
“Daddy, blue please!” Mimi handed him an unopened bottle still covered in its film.
As Chan began to unwrap it, twisting open the cap and removing the silver foil inside, his cell phone rang loudly across the room. He strided over to the coffee table, setting the opened paint bottle that he unconsciously brought with him, down and quickly picked up his phone.
It was a call from his friend, and Chan was already distracted, walking away from the table, and the paint bottle, and the white rug underneath it all. His eyes were fixed on the television, which continued to play in the background while he and Mimi had started their painting activity at the dining area.
Mimi’s eyes widened as she watched the blue paint bottle tip over from the wind of Chan’s swift turn, spilling its contents into a bright pool beneath it. The vivid color began to trickle down onto the rug, leaving a streak of blue that spread across the white and seeped into the fur.
The toddler gasped, sitting up in her chair.
“Daddy!” Mimi’s voice rang out, her paint-smeared fingers covering her mouth in surprise.
Her shout made Chan look at her, his eyes widening as he took in the sight of her paint-splattered face. But quickly masked in confusion, as he followed her gaze and was shocked to see the blue puddle spreading across the rug he swore wouldn’t get ruined anytime soon.
“I’ll call you back.” He muttered into the phone.
Chan rushed to the table, grabbing the blue bottle, now slippery with paint. His frantic hands tried to contain the spill that was freely flowing over the edge of the coffee table.
“Shit.” He grumbled.
“Shit—Mimo, pass me a paper towel, please!” He shouted over his shoulder, watching as the toddler scrambled to get out of her seat.
But as Mimi climbed out of her seat, the paper plate that Chan had used as a makeshift paint palette fell to the ground with a splat.
“Oops.” The child muttered, glancing up to look at her father, who bit back.
“It’s okay baby” Chan said, trying to keep his voice calm despite the growing chaos. “Just bring Daddy the paper towels, please.”
He wasn’t sure what he was trying to salvage at this point. The bottle had already emptied its contents onto the table and the carpet. All he was really doing now was playing in the mess, his hands and forearms smeared with blue paint.
Mimi handed him the paint-stained paper towels, finger-prints from her own messy hands. The toddler eyes filled with curiosity as she watched him dab at the remaining blue pool.
“Mommy’s carpet is messy.” She stated the obvious, her feet squishing against the blue liquid on the furry rug as she played in it.
“I’ll clean over there!” She announced, grabbing some paper towels and running toward the mess she had made back there.
“Mimi wait—”
But of course, she didn’t stop. Her blue footprints marked every step she took. Chan could only watch in dismay as the mess spread and his daughter, now resembling a walking paintbrush, continued her impromptu cleanup.
He inhaled deeply, trying to keep himself calm.
“I’m freaking screwed.” He muttered to himself.
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She hummed on her way back, feeling light and refreshed after a delightful morning with friends and the emotional moment of being asked to be her best friend’s bridesmaid. Y/N was glad she hadn’t canceled, as it had been a much-needed breath of fresh air. Plus, she had learned a surprising lesson about motherhood that morning.
But when she entered the house, which was eerily quiet except for the distant animated voice from the television, she narrowed her brows in confusion.
“I’m home!” She announced, trading her shoes for house slippers.
Before she could even make it past the threshold, Chan slid to a stop in front of her, arms extended to block her path. Y/N stared at her husband in surprise. Parts of his face was smeared in blue, his fingers stained with what used to be paint.
“Please don’t be mad. I’m sorry.” He pleaded, a guilty expression all over his face.
The stunned wife slowly narrowed her gaze, nudging past him. “What happened—”
And she didn’t get to finish her sentence. Her eyes widened as she took in the sight. Blue splashes covered the rug, vibrant against its white fur. There were blue footprints and red and yellow handprints on the dining table, the chairs, and even the tissue roll holder. Streaks of spillage marked the dark floorboards, cleaned haphazardly.
“It’s my fault. I put the paint on the table and got distracted, Mimo didn’t do anything.”
Mimi, who had been sent to another room and instructed to count to one hundred, decided she had counted enough. Although she struggled to recall numbers beyond thirteen, she had given up trying to continue. After hearing the mention of her name, she stepped into the living room, observing the quiet, tense atmosphere with big eyes.
“Is daddy in trouble?” She asked, her small voice full of concern, even though most of the mess was unintentionally her doing.
Y/N turned to find her daughter, now more of a mess than when she had left her. It was clear Chan had tried to clean her up, but she was still stained with paint.
Washable my ass. Chan had muttered, once he had realized the paint wasn’t coming off easily.
Chan thinned his lips, attempting a smile at the toddler, but his eyes stayed anxiously fixed on Y/N.
It wasn’t until Y/N laughed, fingers covering her mouth to stifle her loud cackle at the ridiculousness of the situation, that Chan stood there dumbfounded.
He swore she had finally snapped, that her patience had broken. That she had finally lost it.
“Oh baby, look at you!” Y/N crouched down, arms outstretched for her three-year-old to come into.
Mimi ran into her mother’s arms, mirroring her laughter.
“Are…you not upset?” Chan questioned, still not fully convinced.
Y/N glanced back at the rug, then back at her husband.
“Should I be? I mean, it already happened. There’s not much we can do about it now, can we?” She smiled at the child in her arms, lifting Mimi’s jaw to take in her paint-streaked face up close.
And she was laughing again.
Her words echoed Chan’s usual calm demeanor, but coming from her, they made him nervous. He stood silent, unsure of what to make of her reaction.
Sensing his continued worry, Y/N stood and walked over to him, examining him as she had Mimi.
“You two look like smurfs.” She said, stifling another laugh as she took his stained fingers, drawing his knuckles closer.
He sighed, gripping her hand gently.
“You’re really not upset? I know you were really worried about that rug.” He seemed disappointed in himself, upset that he couldn’t prevent the mess.
Y/N shook her head, smiling as she looked back at the ruined rug.
“Not upset, I promise.”
Chan wondered what had brought this sudden change in her demeanor. He was sure she would have berated him with “I told you so’s” or remained silent until her disappointment simmered down. That she would have regret ever leaving.
“I learned something at brunch today.” Y/N said as she returned to Mimi’s side, starting to undo the buttons of her dress for a proper cleanup.
“All my other friends were telling me about their children and the havoc they caused. I was surprised that our Mimi was an angel compared to the tales I heard.” The mother laughed.
“Then thinking back to the disasters our daughter caused, I realized our Mimi isn’t reckless, she’s just a little clumsy.” She looked up at Chan, who raised an eyebrow.
“That’s what I’ve been telling you for so long.” Chan said, though he sounded slightly bemused.
Y/N shook her head. “Yeah, I wasn’t fully convinced.”
Chan sighed, crossing his arms over his chest, still smiling.
“But you better clean all of this up.” She added, her brows furrowing with the stern expression Chan had expected much earlier.
“Yes ma’am, I’ll leave this place spotless.” Chan nodded.
While the parents talked, the toddler got closer to the painted rug, crouching down to see if the blue had dried, much like the smudges and streaks on her face and her dress. But it hadn’t, and she stared at it on her finger.
“Shit!” She exclaimed loudly.
Both parents snapped their heads toward Mimi. Chan, who had momentarily forgotten in his earlier state of frenzy, of how impressionable his daughter was, gulped nervously. He could feel the hot glare his wife was shooting him, too scared to meet her angry gaze.
“I-it was the creepy Picasso puppet.” Chan attempted to lie, though it was obvious it wouldn’t work.
Her raised brow and crossed arms were clear indication of it.
“Hey, at least she used it in the right context.” Chan continued, trying to lighten the mood, his wife only stared at him in disbelief.
“Clean. Now.” Y/N ordered, walking over to pick up her Little Picasso for her second bath, with the tell-tale signs of another cheesy grin on her face.
Seeing which Chan also broke into a grin.
“Wash me next!” He couldn’t help but laugh, rushing after the mother-daughter duo, his wife playfully pushing him away with a nudge of her arm.
And even though Mimi’s painting skills were what her father liked to call “abstract,” the little canvas of her red, yellow, and green blobs was definitely a family portrait according to Chan, was hung proudly in her parents’ room.
“A colorful disaster that captured the essence of our family. Our Little Picasso is a genius!”
Again, a proud father’s words we might have to fact check.
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end.
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❝𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐓!❞
Shig is stuck at the single worst party of his life— until he spots that cutie from his biochem class.
warnings; dub/noncon, AFAB/FEM READER anal ref for like a second, unprotected sex, drunk/drugged reader, yandere-coded shig,, slut-shaming, incel-ish shig, dabi got too drunk and kinda screwed reader over, drugging(?), college au, i’m gonna redo this eventually, gross descriptions
a/n; this is my (late) secret santa gift and New Years present for the illustrious @mamayan !! i hope i did your dirty man justice, this was a part of @/ectologia’s amazing Secret Santa 2023 event they hosted!! both of these authors are big inspirations to me and i’m so glad i was able to be a part of this!
This New Years party was horrendously lame. shitty music, shitty lighting, shitty drinks; the whole thing was just an excuse for idiotic college frat douches to get wasted and fuck pretty little cheerleaders for the umptenth time.
Shigaraki watched with tepid interest as Dabi was cheered on by idiotic college students chugging his twentieth beer, scoffing as the drunk man raised his arms in triumph and let out a slurred war cry, already stumbling around. He was already sick of this place, the smell of pot and vomit burning his nostrils, just as he thought to dump his cheap booze away and kick rocks Dabi sauntered over to him, practically dragging another person with him.
Tomura felt his back immediately straighten, bloodshot red eyes widening as he saw your giggly attitude and cute little outfit. You were his shamefully massive crush from his chemistry class, the teacher’s student grader who left cute smiley faces and sweet memos on all his reports, always smiling and helpful and so so so kind to everyone. Shigaraki often got carried away staring at you during labs, watching as you bent over, how your lab coat was seemingly tightened just enough to where he can see your luscious curves, how your pretty hair falls so perfectly messy from your chaotic bun, ‘wonder how she’d look if i spread her out on this table—examine her..’
Dabi poked his chest harshly, a drunken grin plastered on his face as he held up in a mock chokehold, “lis’n h-hic!-here.. yer gonna take m’new girl n make sh-braap!-sure she ge’shome safe, kay?” Tomura rolled his eyes at his friend’s drunken speech, letting Dabi clap a hand on his shoulder to steady himself as he watched you giggle and pat Dabi’s back comfortingly. Your own cheeks were darkened and he could see the sway in your stance. Tomura couldn’t help but feel a twinge of emotion at Dabi’s declaration of you being ‘his new girl’ as he finally scoffed and pulled away, his frustration coming off as annoyance.
“Why am I in charge of your ‘new girl’?” he hissed, eyes narrowed. Your smile dropped and his gut wrenched at the sight knowing it was his fault, but he couldn’t help the little twitch of his cock at your glossy lips stuck in a cute pout. Dabi frowned and shoved the taller man harshly, stumbling a bit as he did, “dude fuck off, she’s jus’a sweet gal, wanna make sure she don’t get snatched up-hic!-I obvi’sly can’do it,” he chided, poking at Shigaraki’s chest. You interjected, pretty manicured fingers and bracket decorated wrists waving in protest, “no no no nonono, h-he don’t need to do that, ‘ll be f-fine!” you slurred and Tomura sighed, pinching his brows to hide the absolute jubilation he was experiencing. He couldn’t believe his luck— literally being hand-delivered the girl of his (wet) dreams on the shiniest of silver platters. He kept up the act, however, not wanting you to see his desperation, “nah, nah, you’re both stumbling like fucking morons, lemme go grab my shit,” he turned on his heels, calling over his shoulder, “go grab yours.” hearing your heels ‘click! click! click!’ off as you ran to get your cute purse.
“T-tomura I-ahh!” you whined and cried into your pillow, the fabric soaked and caked in your tears and makeup. You screamed as he pushed your back down into a sinfully painful arch, cock sloppily thrusting into your poor cunt. All you’d done is asked for help taking your massive heels off, bending down to untie the long, crossed straps as he snuck up from behind using his, very surprising, strength to grab and yank you up over his shoulder. You gasped and twisted, pounding on his back with your fists as he stumbled through your tiny apartment just off campus. It was only now that you regretted never agreeing to the on-campus dorms.
His whiny pants seemed to infect your very soul, bright red, bloodshot eyes staring down at you in such a creepy way, like he feared blinking would ruin his moment with you. Not like this was much of a fond moment being made, panties hanging off your ankle, shirt and bra ripped, literally ripped in half, hair frizzy and messy from his constant pulling and tugging. You felt disgusting; dizzy and nauseous, wet and gross with how loud your own pussy was squelching, the blunt ‘plap! plap! plap!’ of his balls against your puffy lips send chills of disdain and pleasure up your back, making your already jumbled brain that much more scattered.
He was so touchy, his clammy hands pinching and prodding at all your fat and curves, frantic in their path all over your sweaty skin. Shigaraki’s entire form was frantic, hips stuttering and basically humping you while his cock twitched wildly, arms and thighs quivering at he pinned you down, drool, literal spit, splattering against your face and neck as he openly crooned and moaned like a bitch in heat. You felt so violated as he praised your body, talking about ‘all those lonely nights’ and how he ‘spent so many labs with a hand down m’pants-“ god he was a fucking pervert.
You whined as his thumb found your clit, rubbing fast circles and sending a wave of pleasure through you, another wave of nausea following soon after as you bit back bile, there was no fucking way you were gonna cum from this degenerate raping you. But alas, try as you might your biology was working against you, thighs and cunt clenching around him and his cock as you neared your high. His laugh was cracks and hoarse as he leant down, greasy pale-blue hair tickling your nose as he licked a stripe up your face, drinking your tears, “mmfh—! fuck, y’gonna cum? huh?” he tried, rubbing tight circles onto your sensitive bundle of nerves. You thrashed in what little movement you could, sobbing and shaking your head, “N-NO, NEVER, YOU F-FUCKING PERV—“ he cut off your screams with a harsh swat to your pussy, causing a full body shake as you tipped over the edge.
Perhaps you would’ve been embarrassed if not blinded by the white-hot pleasure of your forced orgasm, mouth agape in a silent scream as your cum cremend his cock, creating a frothy ring of white at his base. Tomura giggled out a disgusting laugh, wiping the milky mixture and smearing it into your messy face, cooing at your disheveled appearance as he sped up his sloppy thrusts.
Just as you came down from your high, his hand suddenly pinned you back down by the neck, quickly cutting off any air as he whined above you, eyebrows creased as he fucked into your hot, messy pussy, “g-gonna cum— fill up y’pretty pussy,” he whined, using his thumb to softly poke and prod at both your lips and little puckered hole and causing you to jolt, tightening up around his again and sending Toura over to his own climax.
His ‘big o’ face was obscured by his tangled, dirty hair, a pathetically noisy groan resonating as he stilled inside you, pump after pump of warm, thick cum shot right in you. You cringed, so weak from your own finish that you did nothing but whine in protest as he slowly slipped his cock out, instantly jamming two of his lengthy fingers back in to keep his cum night and snug.
“Happy New Years, I—“
“fucking pervert.”’
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