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yieldtotemptation · 2 months

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BLUEBERRIES ft. Chaewon

chaewon x male reader smut

9k words

"SURPRISE ATTACK!"

—is the last thing you hear before your entire world tilts sideways, the weight of your girlfriend crashing into you, sending you toppling over the arm of your chair and onto the thankfully plush carpet.

And just like that, Kim Chaewon has arrived—shattering the quiet of your apartment with the sound of her giggles and the thud of your bodies.

To her credit, she gracefully lands on top of you—legs straddling your torso, hands pressing down on your chest—pinning you to the floor, and she's grinning—all doe-eyes and mischief, her hair fanned out around her like a strawberry-blonde halo.

"Do you surrender, baby?"

You could pretend to put up a fight—push back a little, buck your hips, take her by the waist—get a little rough. But why would you? Especially when losing meant having Chaewon on top of you.

So, like always, you decide it's best to give your girlfriend exactly what she wants and you play along: enjoying the creamy thighs squeezing your sides, that collarbone peeking out of your stolen sweatshirt, those impossibly large eyes looking down at you as she makes herself comfortable—and you respond with a rather theatrical groan, "I surrender, Chae."

"Nuh uh," she corrects you, her voice dropping down a comically low octave. "It's Chaewon-rys Targar-something, Queen of Apartment 19-4, Ruler of..."

"My fridge?" You offer.

"Very funny,” Chaewon replies, bemused.

It's been weeks without this—without her—and you've barely survived. Chaewon's schedule is a merciless beast, devouring every second of her time. But here she is, now, with you—on top of you—back in your life and picking up from exactly where she left off.

“But,” she continues, “seeing as you're in the mood for jokes how about… ThisI" Chaewon turns cruel, unveiling her most brutal method of torture—tickling. She catches you off guard, shifting her weight, her hands abandoning your chest and flying to your sides, her light fingers dancing over your ribs, her nails lightly digging in just enough to make you squirm.

"Wait-wait-wait!" You try to twist your way free, but she's got you good, her fingers now inching closer to your armpits, towards your most vulnerable spots. "Mercy!" you yell, but she's just getting started— “Mercy!”

"No mercy!" She's relishing this far, far too much, all giggles and grins, delighted at your pathetic efforts to struggle out from her grasp and escape her vicious assault. Your laughter comes out in uncontrollable bursts, as you desperately try to cover your sides to protect yourself from her onslaught.

"Ok-ok-ok-I give up! You win— you win—I give up!" You cry out, your laughter morphing into wheezes as Chaewon's relentless tickling at last, mercifully subsides.

"Aha! Round 129 goes to Kim-Chae-Won!" Chaewon turns and bows to an imaginary audience, mimicking a faraway crowd chanting her name "Kim-Chae-Won! Kim-Chae-Won!"

"I have once again been defeated," you feign a dramatic sigh, drawing an even harder laugh from Chaewon as you roll your eyes to the back your head and let your tongue loll out of your mouth.

Your apparent death does little to faze Chaewon, who takes this as an opportunity to plop down on your stomach, pressing her full weight down on your chest. She props her elbows on either side of your shoulders, her chin resting on her interlocked hands. “I guess it’s time to claim my prize.”

Chaewon slides her hands upwards, her fingertips walking up your arms towards your wrists, squeezing them lightly and pulling them over your head, holding them firm against the ground.

When your eyes finally refocus, she’s hovering over you, her button nose brushing against yours, and her lips—bright pink and slightly parted—just millimeters away from your own.

You're trapped under her, but you hardly mind—she's so warm, so soft, so natural—crime would skyrocket if this was considered a form of punishment.

"Let this be a lesson," she's whispering now, very much satisfied, so close that waves of her strawberry-blonde hair spill down on either side of your face. Strands tickle your nose with the scent of her shampoo, a floral bouquet that you've come to associate with lazy Sundays and the promise of warm breakfasts in bed. "I. Always. End. On. Top."

She finishes her victory speech by stealing a kiss—as light and sweet as she is—but it’s still far, far shorter than you'd like.

That simple kiss has your mind wandering, entertaining the thought of flipping the script—of surprising her, overpowering her and turning the tables.

You could grab her, kiss her long and hard—get rid of that ludicrously oversized sweatshirt and tear off those dangerously short sweatpants. Part those lithe, never-ending legs, feel the warmth of her bare skin against yours, mark your territory on her perfect, toned thighs and each individual abdominal muscle.

But the way she's looking at you, her cheeks flushed from the exertion, her eyes sparkling with playful triumph, she's so adorable that the thought of manhandling her right now seems almost...sacrilegious.

And, let's face it, it's seeing this side of her that you love—the Chaewon that's free from the glitz and glamour of the stage, the choreography, the smiles that are painted on for the cameras. The Chaewon that is not wearing the mask of someone enjoying herself, that is actually, genuinely having a good time.

Here, in your apartment, with the curtains drawn and the outside world blocked out, she's just yours—Kim Chaewon, your girlfriend. The one who laughs at your terrible dad jokes and makes fun of your outdated sense of style, the one who can tell whether you've had a good day or not just by how heavy your feet are when you walk through the front door, the one who knows all the perfect ways to make you relax after a tough day at—

Fuck.

Work.

The word sneaks into your mind like a ninja in the night—silent, swift, and really fucking inconvenient.

Fucking work.

A bullshit spreadsheet you're supposed to be updating and a deck that needs to be finished by tomorrow morning, even though you know it won't be looked at for another month.

You don't have to say anything, Chaewon's already reading the frown lines on your face. "Oh—no-no-no. That's your—'fun time is over I have work to do'—face. I hate that face."

"There's these slides..." you know you’re fighting a losing battle, your voice trailing off as you try to hold onto the last remnants of what was once a very pleasant afternoon.

"No way—not happening," Chaewon insists, emphasising her point with a firm squeeze of your wrists. "I only just came back from Japan, and it’s been weeks. There is no way you're going to ditch the beautiful love of your life for that laptop. I'm literally on top of you right now!"

"Come on, Chae, I was almost done when you came in—"

"—when I defeated you in combat and forced you to surrender— "

"At least let me do a quick review then I swear I'm all yours," you negotiate, trying to maintain eye contact with her but failing as your gaze falls to the laptop atop your desk, the open tabs taunting you. "Five minutes, tops."

"Nope, not moving, not going anywhere, you're just going to have stay under me like this forever." Chaewon's being petulant now—this is more your fault than anything, you've been spoiling her like a princess—and while she is acting like a brat, it's a brat of your own creation.

"Chae—come on—let me up, please."

"If I let you up, you'll get into one of your 'zones' and then it'll be hours before you’re done and you’ll completely ignore me," Chaewon pouts, her nose scrunching up in a way that's both endearing and exasperating. "And I've missed you too much for that."

"I promise I won't—”

Chaewon rolls her eyes at that.

“I'm serious—just let me up."

"Oh, you're serious now, how scary."

"Five minutes, Chae—"

“Bullshit.”

“Come on, let me up.”

"Or what, what are you going to—wait—what the—wait!"

It doesn't take much effort at all—face it, she's at best a hundred pounds soaking wet—but you're already on your feet, wrists free of her dainty fingers, holding her up with just one arm and a single hand palming an ample ass cheek.

You catch your breath as you stand, and she’s still reeling as the sudden balance shifts. She’s forced to cling to you, wrapping those long, toned legs around your waist, and looping her arms around your neck, her hands grasping at the back of your head as if she's afraid you're going to drop her.

"H-how the—how did you—I had you pinned!" Chaewon squeaks out, pure disbelief colouring her voice as she clings onto you.

You leave her to work through the logic on her own, returning to your desk, righting your fallen chair, all the while still holding Chaewon like a prize you've just won at an arcade.

"Hey! Don't ignore me!" Chaewon protests, but it's too late. You've already set her down on your desk, the laptop between the two of you like a barricade. She tries to keep her limbs wrapped around you, legs around your waist—do anything she can to stop you—but you gently, quite easily, peel her off—earning another scowl from your girlfriend.

You can feel Chaewon's eyes boring into you as you sit down at your desk, her legs swinging back and forth from the edge of the desk in frustration. The work itself doesn't take long—you were being honest—just a minor grammar check here, fixing some formatting there and—

"What was that? How did you just—”

It's the first time you've ever seen Kim Chaewon—usually so composed and untouchable on stage—so completely, utterly flustered.

"I don't get it. I mean did you just get this strong?" Chaewon's voice is small, barely heard over the sound of your keystrokes—trying to process what just happened. She's shifted on the desk, leaning back now on her palms, looking at you like you're a puzzle piece that doesn't fit anywhere at all. "Or have you always been—you were just—were you letting me win? Hey—why are you laughing?"

You hit a final 'enter', saving your work with a performative flair, and spin the chair around to face Chaewon so you can give her your full, undivided attention.

But she's not looking at you—no, she's still trying to make sense of it, her gaze flitting from the chair, to the floor, to the laptop, to your hands that are now folded neatly in your lap. You're expecting a comeback, something witty and biting, something that'll make you laugh, but she's just sitting there—pouting. Adorably so.

"Chae, come on."

"What?" She snaps out of her daze, the hardware in her head overclocking. "I just—I exercise way more than you—I run, I dance everyday, I go to the gym, I do pilates—you can't be that much stronger than me."

"I'm like twice your size, Chae." You chuckle, reaching for the water bottle on your desk and taking a well-earned swig. "And I do manage to sneak in some workouts when you're not around to tickle me to death."

"But... this whole time?" Chaewon asks, there’s an accusation in her voice as she crosses her arms over her chest, inadvertently distracting you with the way it makes her sweatshirt pull tightly across her breasts. It's too fucking cute, and you can't help but lean in for a kiss, but she turns her head away at the last second. "Every time, you've been taking it easy on me? Kiddie gloves?"

You sigh. "More or less."

"Why?"

"I guess I thought you knew," you say with a sheepish smile, "but even then, I didn't want to spoil the fun for you." You take another sip of water, watching her carefully. "You're so competitive, Chae. And when we’re playing like this and you win, you're so... happy. I just like seeing that."

"But that's..." Chaewon stammers. "Even when we're... You know... You're so... Gentle with me."

"Of course, I never want to—I'm just afraid that—"

"Afraid of what? That you'll break me? Okay, Bruce Banner." Chaewon teases, seemingly having made some decision in her own mind, as she hops off the desk to face you. "So, you've been holding back? You really think you’re that much stronger than me?”

You give her a very cautious shrug.

"Prove it."

"What?"

"If you’re really as strong as you think. Show me. Here—take my wrists—" Chaewon says, holding them out to you, "—and I bet I'll still be able to break free like I always do."

“I’m not sure if this is such a good idea,” you say, setting your bottle aside and standing up to face her.

“Why? Chicken?” She answers, and you try not to facepalm, reminding yourself that it is easier to just give her what she wants—most of the time, anyway.

"Alright, if that's what you want," you reply, gently placing your hands on her shoulders and guiding her so her back is flat against the nearest wall. She's staring up at you the whole time, watching you intensely as you take both her wrists in one hand, holding it against the wall and above her head.

"Really, only one hand? This will be real easy to get out of—" Chaewon starts to taunt, but she never gets to finish her sentence, because your grip tightens around her wrists and she feels the full weight of your body pressing into hers. She tries to pull away, expecting the same give she's felt countless times before, but your hand is like a vice—firm and unyielding—and it dawns on her that she's not going anywhere.

Her eyes widen slightly, and she tries to hide her surprise—because she's still in the game, still playing along. She tries to push off from the wall with her legs, but you anticipate it, placing a hand on her waist and keeping her in place.

Even you're surprised at how little effort it is to keep her still—a small push here, a slight change in weight there—Chaewon is at your mercy and it feels... different.

"Wait—I can't—" Chaewon still hasn’t given up, squirming and wiggling, doing little to help her escape but a lot to make you want to keep her against you.

She's trapped, every move she makes only making it worse for her—better for you—moulding her body closer into yours, aligning the softness of her curves with the hard lines of your chest.

But still, she struggles, tries every way she can think of to break free—twisting, turning, pushing with her legs, even trying to bite you at one point—but her best efforts only make you chuckle, and press her harder into the wall, press yourself harder into her.

You can feel her heart racing beneath her sweatshirt, and there's something there—you both feel it—a sudden tension in her helplessness, a thrill in your newfound power over her. "Damn it—this is so—argh!"

Chaewon’s eyes meet yours, and there’s your confirmation—that spark of something new, something unspoken. It's not anger or fear—no, she's never looked at you with fear—it's something else entirely. It's excitement, curiosity, a hint of arousal.

And so, you lean in, closing the last gap between you, and kiss her—right there against the wall.

It's not the gentle peck she's used to, it's not the sweet, loving kiss she’s grown to expect—it's more. You don’t even understand it yourself—it's raw, it's passionate, it's the kind of kiss that could start a war—or end one—the kind of kiss that sucks all the air from the room.

Her body tenses up, and for a moment you fear that maybe this is too much, too far, and you ready to let her go.

But she melts into it—into you. You let go of her wrists to cradle her face, and her arms fall to your shoulders, wrapping around your neck as she kisses you back—kisses you like she doesn't want you to ever stop, like she knows she couldn't stop you even if she tried. Her nails dig into your skin, not painfully, but with enough pressure to remind you that she's here, that she's alive and real and in this moment with you.

You push her into the wall, the plaster giving a gentle protest, and she’s lifting her legs up—she’s straddling you again, gravity doing its job and keeping her affixed to your torso.

Chaewon adapts, her ankles lock behind your back, pressing herself against you, her thighs tightening around your waist, and she’s hips grinding down over your sweatpants.

It’s almost too much, too fast—zero to a hundred in record time. You break the kiss, panting, breathless, but Chaewon's eyes stay closed, her chest heaving, as if she's afraid that if she opens them, this moment will evaporate like a mirage.

"Enough proof for you?"

"Yeah," is all Chaewon can muster, and she opens her eyes, dazed, like you’ve just woken her up from a particularly good dream.

"I'm sorry," you say, the words coming out in a rush, "I didn't mean to lie to you, I just didn't want to ruin your fun. Are you upset?"

"Upset?" Chaewon repeats, letting the word roll around her lips. "Maybe a little bit," she's biting her lip—so endearingly—and you can see the wheels turning in her head—recalculating, reassessing. "But now I'm just..." she pauses, looking down and rolling her hips against you once more, "I'm just really, really turned on."

Her admission hangs in the air between the two of you, and the air in your apartment begins to feel hotter, thicker, laced with something new.

"I love how you take care of me, how you make me feel safe..." Chaewon continues, "But this... the way you're holding me up like this... So easily, it's just so..." Another shifting of weight, another grind of her hips, and she’s slowly discovering what your sweatpants is making very little to hide. "Hot."

"Is that right?" You can't take your eyes off her lips, the way they form those delicious words. Maybe you've been wrong to treat her like she's fragile, like you could hurt her if you're not careful enough. Maybe what she’s really been craving is to prove herself to you, to prove to you that she can handle you—all of you. "Tell me what you like about it."

"I like how—ah—" Her voice hitches as you let go of her waist with your hand, sliding it under her sweatshirt, running your fingers over her toned stomach, feeling it cave in a sharp inhale. "How in control you are. How strong you feel."

Even without your hand at her waist she doesn't fall—her legs simply tighten around your waist, her grip on your neck becoming more secure, more possessive. You trace her belly button with your fingertip—her breath catches, her eyes flutter shut.

"How it feels like you could do—mmm—" she continues, her words getting lost as your hand rises higher up her body, reaching the swell of her breasts. Chaewon arches her back, pushing her chest out for more, a soft mewl escaping her lips. “—could do anything to me and I wouldn't be able to stop you."

You slip your fingers under her bra, the fabric stretching to accommodate your touch, press your thumb against her nipple, feeling it pebble under your touch. You pinch and roll them lightly, basking in her reactions, the way her eyebrows furrow, the way her mouth forms a perfect 'O'.

"I can do anything I want to you."

Chaewon's eyes open, and she’s looking at you like she’s seeing someone entirely different in place of her usual, doting boyfriend. She's panting, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her cheeks a glowing shade of red that seems to spread down her neck and into the fabric of her sweatshirt. She opens her mouth, her breath coming out in short, sharp gasps, and she whispers—"Will you?"

Two simple words. Two simple words that unlock something deep inside you. Something primal. The thing inside each man since the dawn of time that drives them to hunt, kill, fuck like their lives depend on it.

Two simple words that have you leaning in and kissing her again, not just her lips—your mouth traces a fiery path along her jawline, the tender spot behind her ear, down her neck. Each kiss is a promise of what's to come, each nip of your teeth makes her shiver.

Chaewon gasps, her body writhing under your touch, her legs tightening around your waist, desperate and afraid you'll pull away. You don't. Instead, you press into her, feeling the wetness spreading through her shorts, and it takes all your self-control to not rip them off her right there.

"Bedroom," she manages to get out, a soft, fleeting whimper between kisses, "take me to the—"

You never find out the end of her sentence—twisting her body around, your hands cupping the firm, round globes of her ass, and in a single, swift motion, you lift her higher, throwing her up and over your shoulder.

"Wai—" Chaewon squeals as you hoist her up, her legs dangling in the air, has ass pointing to the sky.

She's giggling again, the sound muffled by the fabric of your sweatshirt, her laughter vibrating through your back as you carry her across the apartment.

"I can't believe you're actually doing this—" she's still giggling, managing to separate herself from your back to chide you,

"—you're so strong it's unfair—",

"—treating me like I weigh nothing—" ,

"—like a caveman—",

"—I'm going to have to tell the others about this—",

"—they won't believe it—",

"—I don't even believe it—",

"—my what a big, strong boyfriend I ha—"

But she's cut off again as you kick open the already ajar bedroom door, the wood slamming against the wall. Before she can realise what's happening you're throwing her onto the bed, her body bouncing once before she lands in a sprawled mess of limbs and exclamations.

"Are you ever going to let me finish a full sen—"

"Chae," her name comes out deeper and gruffer—far more demanding than you intended, cutting off her playful protests in an instant.

For once, Chaewon is paying full attention—no quips, no sarcasm, no laughter to lighten the mood—the room completely quiet except for the sound of her breathing, and even that seems to hush in anticipation of what's to come.

You stand over her, her legs still in the air, her body open and exposed for you—her sweatshirt riding up, revealing the smooth expanse of her stomach, the little mole you've kissed a thousand times just above her navel, her shorts stretched so tightly over her thighs.

It's in the way she's looking at you too—the way she squirms under your gaze, the way she can't help but make her body arch up towards you, pushing out those beautiful, perfect breasts, slightly parting her legs as if inviting you to dive in—wanting you to take her (to fuck her) in all the ways you wanted to but were too afraid to try before—it's all so different, all too much, all so fucking intoxicating.

"You want me to do whatever I want to you?"

Chaewon swallows hard, and nods.

"You want me to take you however I want?"

Another nod, another submission.

You step closer to the bed, your mind completely made up. "Then say it."

Her voice comes out hoarse, a strained whisper. "Take me."

"Again."

She repeats it, this time her words clearer, urgent. "Please—take me."

And with that—her shorts—those tight, far too tiny shorts—become your first victim. There's no time for slow, teasing unbuttoning or the gentle tug of fabric over skin. You're too far gone for that.

So, you rip.

The button pops off with a satisfying ping, and the material gives way, revealing her panties beneath. The sound makes Chaewon gasp, her body shiver.

Hooking your thumbs in the waistband, you drag the shorts down her legs, bringing them gliding over the soft skin of her ass, catching briefly on her thighs before you toss them to the floor.

Her panties are next—white, cotton, and oh-so-innocent looking—the kind tailor-made to be ripped off and left in shreds. But just as your hand reaches the waistband, something holds you back.

A thought—a flicker of doubt—crosses your mind. What if she doesn't like this? What if you're getting caught up and taking things too far? What if she regrets what she's about to let you do to her?

But then, "I'm okay," Chaewon says, reading your hesitation. "Stop thinking like that." Her voice is firm, almost commanding. "I want this."

"Chae—"

"I. Want. This." Chaewon repeats, her voice stronger. “I want it all.”

You trust her—you always will—and so, you nod, understanding the gravity of her words. You lean over her, capturing her gaze, making sure she sees you, really sees you. "Alright, but we need a safe word."

"A safe word." Chaewon echoes, a smile rising on her face, as she realises what a safe word means—what it enables you to do to her.

"If you want me to stop," you say, slowly, like a professor and his star pupil. "Just say..."

"Blueberry," Chaewon interjects, the corner of her mouth curling up into a mischievous smile.

"Blueberry?" It's so unfitting, so fucking adorable, so Chae. "Fine then, if you want me to stop," you begin to explain the rules of the game that you're already starting—kissing down her calf, over her knee, down that gorgeous curve of her inner thigh, until your lips are meeting cotton— "you just say 'blueberry'. As loud as you can, the second you want me to stop. Otherwise, we keep going until I'm satisfied. Got it?"

Chaewon nods eagerly, a little too eagerly, but you don't miss the glint of excitement in her eyes. She's so ready for you, so ready for what's to come next, her body vibrating with anticipation.

"Good."

The single word hangs in the air, a declaration of intent. With it, your hand moves to her panties, the cotton material damp with her arousal. You don't hesitate, you don't play it slow, again—all it takes is your thumb in her waistband and you rip. What were once her panties gives way easily, tearing with a sound that's halfway might as well be a starting pistol, revealing her bare, already glistening, already so wet pussy to the coolness of the room.

But Chaewon's not just lying there waiting for you to make your next move. No, she's not that kind of girl. She's sitting up now, her sweatshirt coming off with a flick of her wrists, the heavy garment flying through the air to land somewhere in the room, forgotten.

Her bra follows suit—quick, efficient, like she couldn't wait another second to be naked for you. Chaewon's breasts bounce free, full and firm and so fucking perfect, rosy tips hard from the cold air or maybe just from the way you're looking at her.

Fuck, the sight of her alone is almost too much. You take a moment, just to breathe her in—to admire the way the light from the bedside lamp casts shadows on her skin, highlighting the curves and valleys of her body. She's a work of art, a masterpiece, and now, she's all yours—every line, every freckle, every goosebump that pops up as the cool air kisses her heated skin.

But you're not here to admire, not now. You're here to give her exactly what she wants, to treat her exactly how she deserves.

You push her back into the bed, your hands on her shoulders, the mattress sinking under your joint weight, and you're kissing her again—no, not kissing, consuming. You kiss her like you're trying to claim her, like you're trying to brand her with your mouth, and she's kissing you back with matched desperation, her nails digging into your skin like she's trying to climb you, to get closer, closer still.

"Mmmm..." Chaewon presses herself up against you—her taut, stiff nipples pushing into your chest, perfect buds squashing themselves against your body, her bare skin gliding over your shirt, her pussy, hot and wet and slippery, working its way over the swell of your sweatpants.

Her hands are everywhere—fumbling with your shirt, running up and down your back, grabbing fistfuls of your hair—and her lips follow, peppering kisses across your cheeks, your jaw, your neck. Her teeth graze the sensitive skin just below your ear, her tongue tracing the shell, her lips whispers sweet—filthy—nothings into your ear.

She dares to move a hand lower, squeezing in some tiny gap between your two bodies, reaching for the waistband of your sweatpants, her fingers teasing the skin just above the elastic.

But you're quicker, catching her wrist, pulling it away with a firm, yet gentle grip.

"No."

You collect her other wrist in the same hand, stretching her arms out and over her head, pushing her down—with your grip, your weight, your hips—keeping her in place, keeping her where you want, paying her back in kind for her earlier “victory”.

"I know what you want," you murmur against her neck. You lean more of your weight into her, your hips pressing down, grinding against her—a slow, deliberate movement, that stains your sweatpants with the juices leaking from her pink, puffy lips.

"Yes," she purrs, "I need you."

"I know," you taunt—another grind, another groan, a deepening stain, "but I need you to want me more."

"I do," she's pleading, begging, "please, I need your cock."

"Not yet," you say, a light chuckle at the whine that escapes her lips. "Not yet."

"But—"

"I am going to fuck you," you say. "Not how you're used to." Her breath hitches, throat swallows—apprehension, arousal, adrenaline—it's all there, playing out on her face like a silent movie. "I'm going to fuck you in every way that I've ever wanted to, in every way I thought you could never handle."

You snake a hand from her waist, drawing a path with your fingertips, running them over her soft, unblemished skin, the ridges of her abs, as you move your hand down, down, until you're right at the juncture of her thighs.

"Ah!" It's the sweetest sound, a high-pitched gasp that turns into a full-throated groan as your index finger breaches her wetness, sliding into the slick, dripping opening of her cleanly shaved cunt—so, so wet—until it's buried knuckle-deep inside her.

Chaewon's back lifts off the bed, her body curving as you slide your finger in and out of her, settling into a steady rhythm. Every movement earns a different, delightful reaction—you trigger your finger: her body shakes, you kiss her neck: she echoes back your name, you add your middle, then your ring finger into her tightness: she falls apart.

"God—gah—" she chokes on whatever noise her mouth is trying to make, her legs spreading wider, hips bucking up to meet your hand, your rhythm. She's beyond soaked; her thighs, her lips, your palm—all drenched in hot, insatiable wetness. "You're so—so fucking good at this."

You add your thumb to the mix, brushing the hood of her clit with the pad; you curl your fingers inside her, finding that spot that makes her crumble.

Her eyes start to close, she’s lost to the sensation, her face contorting in beautiful agony as her walls close around your digits, before you snap her out of it—tightening your grip around her wrists, a slight jolt of pain to force her eyes to meet yours.

"Look at me," you grunt. "Look at me while I fuck you."

Chaewon doesn't dare even blink—she’s so obedient—and the way she's looking up at you now—so willing, so wanting to please, so eager for more—it's bordering on complete worship.

So, you give it to her. You plunge your fingers deeper, twisting and turning, feeling her tighten around you, her wetness coating your hand, the walls of her pussy fluttering with each stroke. You can see it in the redness of her cheeks, the trembling of her thighs, the way her stomach muscles tighten and release—she's close, she’s been so close for far too long.

"Good girl." You kiss her forehead, her nose, her dimples, something sweet amongst the depravity.

"Am I?" Chaewon's question is hopeful, so disastrously erotic, her voice a breathy whisper. There's the beginnings of a storm in her eyes, the first hints painting her features in a way that's so vulnerable, that tells you the only thing holding her back from collapsing is your explicit approval.

"Yes, Chae," you murmur against her ear, nibbling gently, your fingers melting inside her folds. "You're being such a good girl for me."

"Th-thank you," she manages shaky words, barely keeping it together, at the mercy of the quickening of your fingers, the circling of your thumb, the movements of your hand, helping her climb towards that wonderful peak. "Oh my God—how are you—how is this—so—fuck—fuck—"

"Good girls deserve a reward." You're roughly kissing into her collarbone, feeling her pulse hammering under your lips—you want to leave a mark on her body, something for her to remember this by—something to remind her how completely she came apart for you. "Cum for me—cum now—cum on my fingers. Show me how much you want it—how much you love it."

"Please," Chaewon's desperate, so desperate, trying to do something, anything, everything that she can to convince you to let her fall apart. "I love how you touch me—just—please—I’m so close—"

She’s on fire, there’s too much pressure—your fingers work inside her, undoing a knot of their own making—unravelling that slutty ache inside your girlfriend—your good girl—fucking her and stretching her, making her eyes roll to the back of her head and her mouth to drop open in a silent scream.

"So good—so fucking good—just like that—mmmm-MMMPH!"

You breathe it in—your mouth on hers, her cries dying in your throat—feeling her tighten, tense, release around your hand as her small, tight frame—her whole, amazing body—overwhelmed by just three fingers and a thumb.

It takes her like an eruption, a natural disaster—dancing along her skin, to her hips, her thighs, her ribs, her breasts—turning her into a shivering mess, leaving her limp beneath you.

"Fuh—"

You release her lips, watching her pant and quiver, her chest heave, her body spasm from the aftershocks of her climax.

Your hand is drowned in her heat, her juices sticking to your skin as you slowly draw your fingers out of her, glistening in the soft light of the room.

"Here, have a taste." You lift your hand to her face, tracing your sticky fingers along the seam of her mouth, smearing her juices over her soft, parted lips.

Chaewon's tongue darts out, welcoming your digits as you push inside her mouth. She sucks greedily, her tongue lapping your fingertips—she can't get enough of the taste of herself on you.

"Good girl," you say again, and again—she shivers.

The tremors of her orgasm start to fade, and you pull your fingers from her mouth—no longer lathered in her cum, but shiny with her spit.

You straighten, leaning back so you're on your knees, between Chaewon's spread legs. Her eyes follow your hand as it leaves her wrist, traveling up to the neck of your shirt, pulling it off your head and reuniting it with the growing pile of discarded clothing.

Her gaze wanders down, down your body, landing at your waist, at your pants, painfully stretching over your erection.

"Take it out for me, Chae," you instruct, unnecessarily—she's already there, licking her lips, quick at work. Practiced fingers pull down your sweatpants and set your cock free, letting it spring into view, hard and heavy, landing directly on her lips.

But she doesn't get the chance to take it in her mouth, to swirl her tongue around the tip and suck you like she's so clearly been dying to—you have her by the hair before she can dive on your cock, to take it down her throat. It's harsh, it's sudden, it elicits a startled groan from her throat—but it makes it clear that this is not going to be the usual 'good little girl' kind of night.

"No," is all you have for her. You're on the edge—you've been on the edge ever since she pleaded for you—you’re done with the foreplay; you're done with the teasing. Fucking Chaewon senseless. That’s all there is now—fucking her hard and fast.

You pull her up by her hair and your mouth is back on hers, pushing and pulling, tongue in her throat, tasting her—tasting her nectar on her lips—dominating her, her own tongue dancing and wrapping around yours, her teeth grazing your bottom lip.

Your other hand finds its way to her chest, squeezing her breast in your palm, feeling the weight of it, the softness of her skin, the hardened peak of her nipple against your palm. There's not enough time—you want to shove your face between them, taste her nipples, feel them roll between your teeth, give them the attention they deserve.

But instead, you're pulling back on her hair again, gritting your teeth. "Turn around. Bend over."

There's no hesitation, no protest from her—Chaewon's a good girl, and good girls do as they’re told. She rolls onto her hands and knees, her ass in the air—she's presenting herself to you: an offering, a prize, a fucking goddess on a platter. Her spine arches as she looks back at you over her shoulder, the soft curve of her cheeks begging for you to take it.

You startle her, taking her by the hips, pulling her back to you so that when you lean in, your mouth is pressed to her ear, and your cock is twitching against the waiting, wanting, folds of her lower lips. "I'm going to make you feel it," you whisper. "Every part of you, understand?"

Chaewon nods, but it's not enough—not for what you have in store.

"I don't just want a nod, I want to hear you say it. I want you to tell me how good it feels while I'm fucking you—I want to hear it all."

"O-Okay.” She’s tense, you can see it, like a coil winded up in her body, but she's eager, so fucking eager, been waiting for this for far too long—"make me scream for you—FUCK!"

Chaewon's true to her word—she shrieks as you bury yourself deep inside her, is undone by your cock—as ready and wet as she is for you, she's still so incredibly tight, needing you to stretch her, fill her, own her.

But it's not enough—you’re not going to ease her into this, to the pleasure ripping through your bodies, not going to let this moment breathe.

As soon as you've sunk into her, given her every inch that her needy little pussy could take, you're backing up, sliding your stained shaft right out of her cunt before slamming back forward.

She's crying out, making barely intelligible sounds, as you’re digging your fingers into that tiny waist, holding her by her hips as you crash into her, feeling it all—the unfathomable heat, the tightness, the wetness, the way she clenches around you with each thrust—again and again and again.

"Words, Chae," you remind her, needing more from than just the sounds of her sweet, sweet agony, and the slapping of your hips against her ass cheeks. "I want words."

"Y-yes—fuh—fuck—YES!" One-syllable noises are all that Chaewon can manage to start—all you can fuck out of her—but with each thrust, she's getting better, getting bolder. "It feels so good, so hard, so big—God, so deep—you've never—I've never been fucked like this…"

"More." It's addictive, hearing her talk like this, knowing every word that comes out of her mouth is the absolute fucking truth—the proof is in how she's shaking beneath you, how she drips around you, how her fingers claw into the sheets, trying her best to hold on. “Tell me more.”

"Y-you're going so fast—so fucking hard!" Mindless, stream-of-consciousness, fuck-drunk ramblings spill from her lips—she's begging, cooing, whimpering as you mercilessly fuck her, making her divine tits swing below her, her ass ripple with each collision. "Making me so wet—making me so fucking wet—I can't even—can't think straight—just your cock—your fucking cock!"

"This is what you wanted, isn't it Chae?" You hiss, over the sounds of the headboard slamming against the wall, the bed creaking beneath you, and her moans—oh those moans. "This is how I'm going to fuck you from now on—however I want, wherever I want, whenever I want."

"Yes-yes—this is what I want—what I fucking need. To be fucked like this—pounded—broken—so fucking sensitive." The words come so easily from her lips, straight from the pleasure centres of her brains and to your ears. "I deserve this—I've been so good—haven't I? Aren't I your good girl—please tell me I'm your good girl—please?"

"You're my good girl, Chae, you’re my perfect little slut," you acquiesce, and she cries out in relief, her body shaking under the weight of your words—she leans into your touch, your control, your cock. "And good girls get what they fucking deserve."

Another thrust has Chaewon bowing her head down to offer more of herself to you, to give you a better angle to pump her harder, deeper, laying her cheek on the bed and turning her face so you can see that blissful grin on her face, see her lips mouth your name like a prayer.

It's so perfect—she's so fucking perfect—so impossibly tight, a ridiculously wet dream of a cunt—"all yours, all yours"—so aching for you to fuck her straight into the mattress—"I can't take it"—so needy for you—"use me"—so hungry for you—"more—please—I need it."

You're giving in—giving long, intense strokes—you're consumed by it, by her, by how every lovely curve and tensed muscle of her immaculate body is doing its best to take you, to please you, to give you a fraction of the ecstasy that’s breaking her into a million tiny, euphoric pieces.

"God, I love it—love your cock—pounding me—fucking me—hurting me—I can't even think—GOD!" She's doing her best to form coherent sentences, but it's futile, she's slipping—you're not even sure if she's aware of what she's even saying anymore—it's just raw, unfiltered need.

This is going to be a problem—you're never going to be able to go back. Not when she's so needy for you—so needy to be filled by you, so needy to hear your praise as she takes your cock, so full of nothing but words of thanks for how roughly you're treating her, how you're completely ruining her—"thank you—thank you—thank you for fucking me so good."

And then you're falling, a deep, sharp thrust and you’ve sent her forward—her knees give in first, her elbows buckle. She's taking you with her, pulling you by the cock still lodged deep in her cunt. You catch yourself before your face hits the bed, one hand on the mattress, the other still wrapped around her waist.

It does little to slow you down—just gives you a better vantage point to fuck her deeper into the mattress—"yes—yes—fuck—fuck—" —to run your hand up her body and seize her by her tits, so ripe and full and yours to squeeze and twist and tease— "touch me—hurt me—it's all yours—all fucking yours."

And you do—oh, you do—you take her by the tits, feeling the soft flesh of her breasts give way to your grip, roll her nipple between your thumb and forefinger—so sensitive, so responsive. She's lost in it, so happy in the pain and pleasure of your touch—you're leaving another mark—and she cries, she curses, she clenches around you, she joins her hand over yours and pushes you for more, needing more of the loving sting you're giving her.

She’s pulsing on your shaft—walls tightening and quivering—she's so close, so fucking close to cumming—and your body responds, your cock thickens, your strokes powerful, purposeful. "I can't—I can't—baby, please—please—please—"

"You're going to cum for me now, aren't you?" You ask, like it's a question, like you can't see the tension building in her body, can’t see how she's holding her breath and gritting her teeth—it's so fucking obvious she's about to explode.

"Yes—yes—I'm about to—about to—FUCK! I can't fucking take this anymore!"

You take her by the throat—twisting her face so you can see it—you need to see it—need to see the moment she breaks for you. "Look at me," you demand—her eyes rolling up to meet yours, all teary and flawless and beautiful— "look at me when I make you cum."

"God yesssss," Chaewon gurgles, shivers, quakes, "please—please—I'm cumming—I'm cumming— I'm cumming on your fucking cock—OH FUCK!"

Your name leaves her lips in a long, symphonic, slurred cry—and she cums—not in that lovely, beautiful way you've seen her orgasm dozens of times before—this is overpowering, consuming, violent—a million tiny deaths—one magnum opus—sculpted by the Gods and utterly ruined in all ways possible, reduced once again to nothing but a mess of quivers and mewls and moans—pushed over the edge by your cock, forcing her to gush down her thighs.

She's clenching and wringing and doing everything she can to bring you with her—"God—so fucking good—I’m cumming so hard—GOD! I just need—I want it—please give it—give me your cum—fill me with it—do whatever you want to me just give it to me!"

Her eyes are open again—she's inflicted with the same curse as you—she needs to see it, see the look in your eyes as you fill her, finally claim her in her entirety as yours, finally join and become undone in the same preciously brutal ways.

"Keeeep going—cum in me—cum in me—" It’s becoming a mantra now—three short words—as if there was any other option, as if she had any choice. As much as you want to hold on, to drag this out, to savour every second of this chaos—fucking her silly, viciously, tight pussy choking your cock, she won't stop, refuses to— "cum in me—cum in me—cum in me -"

"You want it? You need it? Does your cunt need my cum?"

"Y-yes, please—fuck—fill me up—fuck me up—fill—me—fucking—PLEASE!"

She's a vision, a goddess, she's yours, she's—"Fuck, Chae, god-fucking-take-it!"—she's taking your cum like the fucking slut she is.

God, it feels dizzying, a high so perfect it must be illegal, making your vision dark and your ears ring—the only thing tethering you to the Earth itself is the feeling of her burning hot cunt, the cunt you're fucking like its only purpose in this world is to make your cock feel good.

You’re speeding towards the final stretch now—hard and rough and somehow lasting forever but ending far too soon. Nothing matters except for her exceptionally tight hole, taking you—all of you, everything you have—and you’re clinging onto her—her tits, her throat—you’re bruising and choking her, your body crushing her into the bed, and she's still screaming your fucking name like she's so damn grateful to you for treating her like she deserves.

And then, you let go.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, baby, oh my fucking God," Chaewon groans, "It's so much—you're filling me up— oh, fuck, oh, fuck, OH FUCK!"

It’s a car crash, a pressure valve opening, it’s too fucking much—you can’t hold back—she can’t possibly take anymore.

It burns through you both—the first, the second, the third—rope after rope after rope of cum firing into her sore, well-fucked cunt, filling it completely to the brim. All the lust, all the tension, everything, all at once, released at once in a tidal wave of white into Chaewon's swollen, sopping wet pussy.

“SO GOOD—SO FUCKING FULL!”

One final thrust—one shared cry—like nothing you’ve ever felt before—like you’re being torn apart and reassembled, piece by piece—and you collapse into her, your bodies melting into one— boneless and shaking in the aftermath of it all.

Chaewon’s cumdump of a pussy is still twitching around you—still begging for more, milking your cock even though it’s already given everything it can, every drop it has—making it impossible for you to pull out without feeling like you're leaving a part of yourself behind.

Eventually—when the numbness subsides and you're able to move again—you slide off her, onto your side, slipping your spent cock out of her well-fucked pussy. It's an image that you burn into core of your brain—her ass in the air, your cum dripping from her, the puddle of you leaking from her glistening folds and pooling on your ruined bedsheets.

"So good... so good..." Chaewon's slurring, drifting—fucked out of consciousness—already lost in some blissful, post-orgasmic dream.

That's where you follow her, exhaustion seeping into every bone in your body, and you're slipping down, down and away into that heavenly oblivion.

When you awake, Chaewon's curled into you—your chest is her pillow, your arms her blanket. She's still (thankfully) naked—your cum drying on her thighs, and she's awake, lazily drawing circles with her finger around your heartbeat.

"Hey," you say, kissing the top of her head, getting her attention.

She looks up at you—God, she's so fucking beautiful—a soft smile on her lips. "Hi."

"That was..." You dare to start, but the words catch in your throat.

"Perfect," Chaewon finishes for you, "so fucking perfect."

"Are you sure? I got lost in the moment there, Chae, I—" The ghost of an apology is on your lips, but Chaewon's eyes widen, and she slaps a hand over your mouth.

"Don't," Chaewon stops you, "don't ruin it with an apology. I wanted that. Needed it. More than I thought, I guess. It was amazing."

You look down at her, so small in your arms, searching her face for any hint of doubt or regret, but all you can find is perfect contentment.

And she's smiling, so sweetly, so happily. So Chaewon. The slutty cum dumpster, the adorable princess—the woman of your dreams.

She’s giggling still, tracing wider patterns on your chest, her breath warm against your skin. "You were incredible," she presses her nose into your neck and inhales deeply. "I never knew you had that in you."

"I didn't either," you admit, stroking her hair, looping strands between your fingers. "I had no idea how much I'd like it—how good it would feel. I mean I love getting to hold you like this—hugging you and kissing you, but—"

"It's nice to not have to treat me like I'm made of glass, isn't it?" She finishes. A beat passes, before Chaewon tables her final request. "You know, that thing you called me, while we were..."

Her voice trails off, and she's blushing now—the kind of blush that makes you want to kiss her, kiss it off her cheeks, kiss her until she's blushing all over again. "I think I called you a lot of things that probably shouldn't be repeated outside of this room." You say, and she’s laughing, slapping your chest lightly.

"You know what I'm talking about," she says. "Call me it again. Please? Can you?"

You laugh, bending down so you can steal a kiss—as light and sweet as she is—but it’s still far, far shorter than you'd like.

She's pouting, doe-eyes wide and hopeful—so Goddamn adorable—and you can't resist, after all—it's always best to give your girlfriend exactly what she wants.

"My good girl," you murmur into her ear, "my perfect little slut."

#kpop smut #chaewon smut #le sserafim smut #male reader

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augustinewrites · 9 months

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satoru bday fic! cw: suggestive

gojo thinks he should be nominated for boyfriend of the year.

not only had he managed to get the kids to school on time, pick up the groceries, get all his reports in to principal yaga, and clean the kitchen, but he’d managed to do it all while extremely hungover on his birthday.

he’d even managed to do it all before you’d even gotten out of bed.

he doesn’t blame you for sleeping in. the impromptu birthday party he’d thrown had left you all in quite the state by the early hours of morning. you need the re—

“satoru! could you come in here for a second?”

“coming!” he calls back, shoving the coupon that’d fallen from shoko’s birthday card into his wallet before making his way to the bedroom. “hey, let’s get some frozen yogurt when the kids get ho— holy shit.”

your face breaks out into a grin of triumph at his sudden silence. gojo’s rightfully stunned, carefully studying each bit of revealing lace and the way it sits against your body before committing it to memory.

“is that…”

“the set you had commissioned in paris,” you hum, nonchalant as you drag your fingertips up your hip. “that’s the one.”

he takes a few slow steps toward where you are and takes a seat at the edge of the bed, arousal warming his whole body. “but you said you’d never wear it because—”

“because i was saving it for something special,” you finish, leaning up and shifting towards him. “like your birthday.”

“well,” he sighs as you close the distance between you. “i should unwrap my gift then.”

“please try not to tear it,” you murmur as his lips brush over your pulse. “i’d very much like to wear it again, and i, oh, i saw the charge on the credit card…”

his reply is no more than a distracted hum as you shift onto his lap, allowing curious hands to explore your body and hungry lips to move against yours.

the lace is soft on your skin, his hands eagerly working to undo the ties holding up delicate florals and sheer material.

“satoru, i need you.” your breath is warm against his skin, exciting him more as he goes to pull off garter belt.

“uh, babe?”

“hm?”

“how do you take this off?”

_____

“well, i connected it to this piece—”

“but we can’t take this piece off unless we take this one off too. that doesn’t make any sense.”

“i’m telling you, that’s how i put it on.”

“then why won’t it come off?”

it’s then that gojo decides custom lingerie should come with instructions. when he’d designed it, he hadn’t actually considered the logistics of this operation.

“okay,” you huff, turning around and placing your hands on his shoulders. “you’re just going to have to tear it.”

“fine by me,” he grins, slightly smug as he curls his fingers around the expensive material and tears—

the two of you scramble up when the front door slams open. it’s in that moment you realize that satoru hadn’t closed the bedroom door.

“mom!” you hear megumi shout, his stomps echoing through the apartment. “tsumiki ate one of my snacks!”

“shit, fuck.” cursing, you grab his discarded t-shirt and slip it on before jumping into bed. satoru slips in next to you, pulling the duvet up to your chins and pressing against you from behind.

“satoru!” you hiss when you feel something poke the back of your thigh.

“we just made out for like ten minutes,” he whispers back, only pulling you closer. “you didn’t think i’d get one?”

“put it away!”

“i could, but—”

you manage to summon one of your divine dogs in time for it push the bedroom door closed, breathing a sigh of relief when the kid’s footsteps come to a halt.

“we’ll be out in a second!” you call, hearing their hushed argument as they trudge back to the kitchen.

“i might need more than a second…”

you hit satoru in the face with a pillow. “you’ll get the rest of your birthday gift tonight, after you drop the kids off at nanami’s.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #keeping up with the fushigojos

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faeriegirlf · 6 months

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⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

you’d been having a rough day to say the least. you woke up late, starbucks had messed up your order and your red lingerie had bled through your white clothes. and now rafe was just being a dick.

“ i do so much for you alright, f-fuck im a proactive type of person okay? “ he stutters out, floppy bangs sticking to his sweaty forehead. he’d been going off his rocker recently, his dad dying, and sarah going off with those fucking pouges. “ i mean, fuck! i give you my credit card every goddamn day! “ he yells out, emphasizing it by a loud fist to the table

“ you’re jus’ so mean! “ you cry out, eyes turning glossy quickly, “ all you ever do is yell! “ the tears started pouring out before either of you guys could even register.

he sighs upon seeing the tears, “ alright c’mere kid yeah? “ he mumbles out, wrapping him big arms around your back, pulling you into one of those nice, comforting hugs you get from a close relative after not seeing them for a while. “ i-i didn’t mean to upset you okay? “ he whispers with a small kiss to your scalp, “ ‘m just trying to explain, yeah? you stress me out kid, “ he says, all signs of annoyance leaving him

“ o-okay, “ the words leave your mouth as a small whisper. his strong hand goes to your jaw, forcing you to look up at him

“ gonna be good f’me yeah? “ he whispers quietly, pushing you backwards onto his bed. you agree with a small nod

“ uh, good. ‘cus y’know i don’t just let, my girl just be a little brat yeah? gotta show her who her fuckin’ dad is “ he says, the mean tone returning for a moment with a condescending laugh. his hands slowly unbuckling his belt…

#🌟#rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron #outer banks #let’s say we got mega dicked down

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nkogneatho · 1 year

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𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐀𝐒 𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐒 (𝑭𝑨𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑹'𝑺 𝑫𝑨𝒀 𝑺𝑷𝑪𝑳)

—cw: fem!reader, diabetes worth fluff, soft and protective dads, megumi, tsumiki as yours and toji's kids, mention of childhood trauma in geto's, dad jokes, not proofread

—a/n: I hope you shed a tear and laugh out loud. Don't let this flop. I actually wrote all of these from my personal emotions and experiences :)) Reblogs appreciated.

#mlist #art commissions #taglist

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ TELL ME WHO WAS YOUR FAVORITE DAD!!! ༊*·˚

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 .ೃ࿐

All these jjk women clowning gojo makes me think his daughter roasts him at every chance she gets. It's not even on purpose. It's just wise words out of a child's mouth.

"Hana-chan~" he calls her in a sugar laced tone. "How do I look in this?" Satoru pointed towards the awful shirt he was wearing. The outfit was all over the place. It was so bad that even your five year old could tell it.

"Papa's good at fighting, not fashion." His jaw immediately dropped and he could hear you trying to control your laugh.

He knelt so he could be a little more "Hana-chan, don't be mean to papa. It's making me cry."

"She's not being mean, baby. Just telling the truth. I'll divorce you if you wear that one more time," you stated, walking towards both of them.

"Oh yeah," he picks the five year old in his embrace, "I'd fight your lawyer. Daddy's the strongest. Right, hana-chan?"

"But you lost the argument to mama las' night." It was amazing how she can sounds so sweet while ripping your husband apart. You finally laughed out loud because you just couldn't control it.

You would expect Toru to put up an argument at times like this but he just giggles, and squeezes you both in a tight hug.

Yeah. He might be the strongest, but he'd always loose to his two girls.

𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 .ೃ࿐

Your four year old and seven year old were determined to surprise their daddy for father's day. Toji never credits himself. He does so much, but expects nothing back. The thought of "what my kids might gift me for father's day" doesn't even strike his mind. He goes out and sees all the decorations on the stores with big glittered alphabets spelling "happy father's day" that's how he comes to know about it. Yet, the man wouldn't expect anything. He knows you three love him. He just doesn't want anything in return. His love doesn't come at a price for you all to pay. So when he came home to utensils clanking to the ground, he was worried.

"Oné-san, no. That's not how I wanted yout two write," megumi complained.

"Megumi, I am older. I know what to do." They both were trying to dominate each other on what to write on the cake. When they heard Toji's footsteps, the little boy pushed you towards the kitchen entrance.

"Mama, don't let papa come in now." You were laughing as you get kicked out of your own kitchen.

"Hey, sweetheart. I heard some noise. 's everything alright?" Toji gave you a quick peck after the question.

"Oh? Oh that yeah! Everything's fine. I just dropped the pan."

"Are ya hurt?" His eyes look completely concerned.

"Uh hun, I am fi—" before you could complete the sentence, your two cute munchkins came squealing, holding the little cake with small hands.

You moved your figure out of the way so your man can see what his kids made for him.

"Happy father's day, papa." They both wished him with a hearty smile. Toji was surprised. His heart suddenly warmed up to the feeling of the view in front of him. His two babies with flour patches on their tees, tsumiki's messy bun and megumi with cream near his lips, confirming he must've snuck in a taste when his sister was looking away. He wanted to cry.

You looked down and noticed there was a spelling mistake with the word "world" on the cake which was supposed to spell "to best daddy in the world"

"Gumi, Tsumiki, there's a mis—" Toji looked at you and shaked his head, speaking with his looks, telling you to not say it. He did notice it, but he didn't care about the mistake. All he wanted now was to gobble down the cake that his babies made. He pat them both on the head, ruffling their hair. "Thank you, little bears. Lesgo' enjoy this and then papa will take you and mama to the game world you like."

With the way he is looking at them, you're sure he'd eat that cake even if it was poison.

𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 .ೃ࿐

Geto didn't think he'll ever have kids, but when he was gifted with twin girls, he claims he is the luckiest person alive ever since.

He loves spoiling his little girls. He takes them shopping, pampers them all the time, helps them learn their nursery rhymes. If they ever were to grow up being too bratty, you are prepared to blame him because he never scolds them. He would dare not to. But that is the thing about kids. You don't yell at them. You don't have to be so harsh. You just have to ease it in and make them understand how their wrongdoings can affect others, hurt others as well as themselves.

Something always triggered inside you when you saw him being soft with Rumi and Arohi. You wished you were treated that way in your childhood. You only thought about them being bratty if not yelled, because that's what your childhood was like.

You were working on some documents, when you heard the door unlocking. Rumi and Arohi walked in with their pink bunny bags on their back.

"Mama, we're home!!" they squealed and ran into your arms, as you quickly set the files aside.

"Aww, seems like you had fun without mama. Where's your dad?"

"There." They pointed at the 3 foot box with legs on the door.

"AH! OH MY GOD. Who are you? How did you get in?" Your mother instincts hid the girls behind your back, as you tried to find something to hit the man with.

"Y/N, NO. IT'S ME," the box monster yelled. He moved his head revealing his fox eyes and you could recognize him.

"Suguru? Oh dear."

"A little help please," his voice felt struggled. You quickly sprinted towards the door, and helped him trying to get the box on the floor only two reaveal all the bags he had behind him.

"Did you guys buy the whole store? And what's this? A lego set?"

"That's for you, mama," Rumi stated.

"Yes mama, we got it for you. The biggest one in the store," said Arohi, running towards her shopping bag filled with toys.

"Suguru, for me? Why?"

"Darling. I always see you doing so much for us," his palms now cupped your cheek. "It broke my heart when you told me that story when you wanted the lego set but the responsibile daughter in you felt you did nothing to achieve it so why ask for it. Well here you go."

"I still don't understand," you shaked your head.

"Y/n. It's okay to spoil yourself. You don't always have to work hard to give yourself a little love. These things that you wanted were always yours even if all you did was try." Tears started streaming down your eyes. You felt the seven year old girl in you finally smile.

"Rumi-chan. Arohi-chan. Let's play with mama's gift." All three started sabotaging the tapes and lables in the big blue box.

You felt happy to have this family. You know why he's a great father? Because Suguru doesn't care for two kids. He spoils three. Your daughters, and that little girl in you who wished to have all that you do today.

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎 .ೃ࿐

A man like nanami will always be a great father. No doubt. But here's one thing you probably don't know about Nanami Kento.

He's a full time salaryman, and part time comedian. Well...probably the worst one because his dad jokes are awful. You wanna know how it started in the first place, right? So it was when you were feeding the two year old the baby food, that you suddenly heard your phone ringing. Kento quicky replaced your place and took over the feeding as you walked towards the hall.

"Aww look at you. Aren't you the cutest baby in the world?" He took the spoon off the alligator cartooned bowl and extended it near her mouth. "Do you want to hear daddy's joke?"

Three mintues later you walked in two the sound of your little girl giggling and laughing. She's never laughed so loud.

"Oh my god. She's laughing."

"Yes. I made her laugh, beloved." Kento looked so happy with the biggest smile.

"Really? What did you do?"

"I said a joke." You luaghed too soon. Was that line a joke because Nanami Kento being comical? No. Impossible.

"I am sorry, baby. It's not true, right?"

"It is. You wanna see? Okay here we go." He moved his head back to harumi. "Harumi, do you know what do you call an alligator in a vest?" Your eyes were hooked on to them.

"An investigator." You couldn't believe your eyes nor your ears. She was really laughing. You chuckled too. Harumi must really loved his dad. Either that, or she has a poor sense of humor like the blonde in front of her.

Since then, Kento always collects dad jokes like pokemons and records her giggling.

𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 .ೃ࿐

Trust me or not, Sukuna is a great father. I'll tell you why. You don't see his protectiveness? Yeah he doesn't show much care on the surface, but you don't spot how he is always lurking behind you to whoop anyone's ass who tries to hurt his loved ones?

That's how Sukuna is even as a father. He wants his kids to stand up for themselves, but he'd always be having their back. To hold them and catch them if they trip.

"Oh they sure do grow up fast. You blink and they're already in college, y/n," your neighbor laughed with you. It was Akio's fifth birthday party.

"Everything looks great, but... " she scanned around, "don't you think pink theme is too girly for a boy? Especially the flower tiara on Akio's head.

You were irritated. How dare she say that? Unfortunately for her, Sukuna heard it and quickly walked to you. He kneeled to place the sanrio stickers on Akio's cheeks.

"Yeah so?" Your husband questioned the woman. "Who said pink is for just girls? And even if it was, there wouldn't be anything wrong with Akio liking it." The silence followed made it clear she didn't expect the clapback.

"Plus the tiara makes him look the cutest. Maybe you should try one. It's on the counter. You can surely use..." he eyed her head to toe"...some glow up.

She immediately rushed out of the door with her son and not apparently the counter. You three burst out laughing.

"Ugly Bitch telling my son what he should like."

"KUNA!" you slapped his back for swearing in front of your child.

"What?! Hey, if Akio ever wanted to call her that, I will galdy let it slide. In fact, I'll support him."

He might act like an immature kid sometime, but you know you had kids with the right person when he makes sure his children are raised in healthy environment.

Taglist: @denji-star @simp-lauren @katsukichu @bbytamaki @thebrokenkitkat @his-saiko @loml-riri @milophiliac @aztecbrujeria @tohokuu @chailattle @erintaro @pumpumrins @lilitudemon @suyacho @keiskyutie @aiizenn @fluffy-ai @bibemiiu @4sat0ruu @namcore @yuujispinkhair @buerriberry @vagabond-umlaut @thedead101

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wittlesissyb4by · 1 month

Text

"Jesus christ you stink." Brad said as he strode past.

I'd been playing with the blocks on the floor, like I'd been told. I tried to stay quiet, to not put up a fuss, to garner as little attention as possible, but there was no escaping nature when it called.

I'd learn to do it discreetly. It's sad that I even have to say that. Hey, guess what I can do! I can poop in my pampers without alerting anyone else in the house!

The problem is I have to wear it afterwards. Carry it around with me when I'm done, feel the warmth mush into my backside as it slowly cools down.

"Turn around." Brad ordered. I whimpered as I obeyed, scooching on my knees to present him with my plump pamper.

You want to know one of the most humiliating things in the world? Having to sit there and suck on a pacifier while your best friend pulls back the waistband of your diaper and checks for poop.

"Quite the load in there, pipsqueak!" he chuckles, giving me a swift kick in my bum. "Did someone have an accident?"

"Yes..." I whimpered. Denying it or playing dumb would only make things worse.

"Yes Daddy."

"Yes Daddy!" I hate that he makes me call him that. We used to get into all sorts of shit together. Now I guess I'm the only one.

I heard him bend down behind me, he pressed his hand in between my legs, mushing the mess into me and rubbing the entirety of defiled diaper back and forth. "Tell Daddy what you did in your diaper."

"I went poo poo's in my diaper, Daddy!" I whimpered. My cock was screaming inside of the cage he put it in.

"Louder! I want the neighbors to hear you!"

"I WENT POO POO'S IN MY DIAPER DADDY! I WENT POO POO'S IN MY DIAPER DADDY!" I repeated it over and over while he wriggled my pampers until he was satisfied.

"Good little bitch." He laughed, standing up once more. "Now crawl in there and ask your wife to change you. I gotta warn you, though, she may be exhausted from the pounding I just gave her."

It was probably true. I could hear her wailing and moaning from the bedroom over the sounds of hips clapping against each other.

I hung my head turned onto my hands and knees. Preparing for my walk--or crawl--of shame.

"Uh uh uh! Not so fast!" Brad tutted, wagging a finger at me.

I stopped, looking up at him, wondering what I did wrong this time.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" he asked with a wicked grin. I racked my brain for what it could be, but then his hands gripped his own waistband, and dropped his boxers to the floor, his much superior dick bobbing before me. "I think you need to thank me for allowing you to get changed. Tell me if you can taste your wife's juices on my cock!"

Photo credit goes to @Toddlerjay on twitter

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veritasangel · 2 months

Text

Orange slices

ft. Oikawa T��ru

⋆ ˚｡⋆ fem pov ୨୧˚ warnings: nsfw content {mdni} ↣ vaginal penetration (unprotected), creampie, oral (reader receiving), fucking against apartment windows but nobody can see

↣ let's just pretend he's in necochea...tagging @draculakawa bcs i know you love him (art credit goes to: @/HQ_YUNAK on X and second one i still gotta find)

wc: 2.6k

A small holiday to Argentina with friends was just to unwind from the stress of your daily life, you definitely didn’t mean to end up in some cute guy's bed that you met whilst sunbathing at the beach.

Your friends had babbled on about how he was a great athlete, volleyball to be specific. You didn’t know if they were lying or not though since you’d never watched volleyball.

Your thoughts were soon interrupted by Tōru rolling over in the bed, one strong arm wrapping around your waist as he pulled you in close enough to bury his face against the crook of your neck. “Well good morning, beautiful.” he mumbled against your skin, tongue darting out to run over the rose shade marks blooming on your skin from last night.

You laugh a little as he lifts his head to look down at you, “Morning to you too.” you smile as he grins at you cheekily.

God, he’s gorgeous. How did I get the courage to approach him yesterday?

“I don’t know how but you look even prettier when you’ve just woken up.” he says with effortless charm, making you wonder if he's used that line before. You laugh a little, shaking off the compliment as you sit up to get out of bed.

“Nuh uh-” his smirk evident in his tone as he pulls you back. “It’s still early and I don’t want you disappearing on me....Besides, I’m not against a repeat of last night.” he teases as he leans in to kiss you.

Instead of resisting, you let yourself fall back onto the bed, a smile curving your lips as you kiss back. You didn't even know him all that well yet but something about this felt right.

As his tongue met yours, your fingers threaded through his hair, tugging gently as the kiss deepened. The warmth in your chest grew, desire blooming as he trailed kisses down your neck. You hummed softly, arching into the sensation.

Tōru's hand wanders down your curves, before settling on your inner thigh. He trails kisses down your body until he was hovering right above your panties.

However, you hadn’t eaten since yesterday evening and of course your stomach decided to make it known in the most obnoxiously loud rumble that lasted a good 10 seconds.

He bites your thigh softly, laughing a little, the sound, captivating. “You hungry?”

“Mhm…what gave it away?”

He snorts, retreating as he sits up, “Come, let’s get you some food.”

“But-”

“We’ll still be having a repeat of last night, don’t you worry, but when you’ve eaten. I’m a hospitable man and I know how to treat a pretty lady.” he teases as he gets out of bed, throwing some shorts on.

You follow not long after, slipping out of the comfy bed and opting to wear his t-shirt, since your only other option was the dress you wore last night.

You walked down the hall and past the living room, admiring the apartment. Every corner decorated with memories and trinkets, it was nice and homey. Picture frames adorned the walls, some of Tōru with who you’d assume was friends or family and also...volleyball pictures.

So he is actually a volleyball player.

You reached the kitchen as you settled on the counter whilst he rummaged through his fridge and cupboards with a defeated expression, “It would seem that I need to do a weekly shop." he says sheepishly, "But I have fruit for days. Oranges, strawberries, mangoes, you name it. You know, if that's okay, for now?"

"Fruit sounds great, I can let you off the hook for no breakfast if this fruit is top notch." you joke, watching as he began preparing the fruit, cutting each individual one into neat slices and placing them on a plate.

"So, tell me more about you. I only remember bits and pieces from last night," you say, curious to learn more about the man you shared a passionate night with.

Tōru glanced up at you, a proud smile on his face as he mentioned, "I'm a volleyball player...a setter. It's the best sport in the world, albeit I'm a littlee biased."

He places a plate of fruit beside you as he continues, "Club Athletico San Juan, if you wanna see a game of mine."

The conversation flowed easily, both of you laughing and getting to know each other better. It was effortless, natural and a part of you wondered if this would've been something more, had this not been a brief holiday, but you shrugged it off.

He handed you an orange slice which you accepted as you gazed at him, a smile playing on your lips. There was something magnetic about him, a pull that you couldn't deny. His golden brown eyes and messy chocolate hair was definitely a sight you could appreciate.

You wished you could stay longer, to explore every inch of this newfound connection. Still, you could enjoy the present, savouring the taste of the orange and the company of a stranger who became so much more within a single night.

As you both indulged in the fruit platter, you shared laughs. The atmosphere light, the bond between the two of you growing stronger with every passing second. You felt comfortable, at ease, and happy.

“How long are you here for?” he asks.

"The next two weeks," you reply, setting the half-eaten orange on the plate, biting your lip. "Maybe I'll catch a game whilst I'm here."

There was a spark in his eyes at the thought, and you couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement. With a smile, he assured you, "Absolutely. I'll make sure to get you one of the best seats...You wanna watch my ass or my face?"

You blurt out laughing, "No no, I'll properly watch the game, you can run me through the rules...either sight's a bonus though."

As your laughter and chatter filled the room, he couldn't help but focus on everything about you, your hair, your eyes, your smile, he can't remember a time he was this attracted to someone.

"Well I couldn't give you a proper breakfast this morning, aside from some delicious fruit, so you have to let me take you to dinner on at least one night." he argues.

"Deal. Dinner sounds lovely."

With the agreement made, you both finished up your fruit, the conversation easing into the background as you enjoyed each other's company in comfortable silence.

"You've got fruit juice all over your lips." you tell Tōru with a laugh

"You're not one to talk, angel." he retorted with a grin, wiping the remnants of the juice from your lips with a thumb, deliberate and slow, the juice coating his thumb.

"Maybe I should clean you up properly." He leaned in, claiming your lips again, the taste of the fruit still on your tongues. You were caught in a whirlwind of passion, the morning sun casting a golden light on the both of you.

The sweetness of the orange mingling with the heat of his kiss. A gentle moan escaping your lips as you pulled him in closer, craving the intimacy.

He steadied you on the counter with one hand, as the other pushed its way into your panties, sliding through your folds. A gasp slipped past your lips as he rubbed his thumb against your clit, eliciting a shiver from the intimate touch.

His fingers teased you, the sensations leaving you desperate for more. Your head fell back, trusting him completely as the connection between the two of you intensified.

Every movement of his fingers sent shockwaves through your body, the pleasure mounting "Tōru," you whispered, nails digging into his forearm.

"Hmm?" he hummed against your mouth, his fingers never stopping.

"Please," you begged, the pleasure threatening to consume you whole.

A wicked smile curled on his lips as he watched your reaction with charmed interest. He tugged your panties to the side as he lowered himself down enough to kiss along your thighs, trailing closer to your pussy.

"Tōru!" you exclaimed, stifling a moan as he shifted, his warm breath brushing against your sensitive skin. He momentarily replaced his fingers with his mouth, the delightful contrast of cool air and heat washing over you. Pleasure rippled through your body as his tongue flicked against you, each lick drawing you closer to the edge.

You gripped the counter, your body taut with anticipation, riding the waves of ecstasy as he explored you. He could sense how your body quivered under his mouth, the tension mounting, and he increased the pressure, his lips sucking at your clit, his tongue licking and circling around it.

His hand found the back of your thigh, using it to spread your legs open a little more, allowing better access and stopping you from forcing your legs shut from the sensation.

He could taste your arousal, the sweetness of your desire. It made his own cock throb in his pants, but he stifled the urge for now, focused solely on pleasuring you. As he continued his ministrations, the rhythmic motions driving you closer and closer to the edge, he pressed a finger into you gently.

Your soft moans were music to his ears, each one a testament to the pleasure he was giving you. He felt your body tense and he knew you were close. He curled his fingers at the right angle, fervently sucking on your clit. You arched your back, breath hitching in your throat as he continued, his fingers relentless, pushing you higher and higher.

With a last, precise thrust of his fingers, he heard your cry of pleasure, felt your body shudder and convulse. He smiled against your wet folds, savouring the quivering muscles and the way you shook slightly.

"Much sweeter than the fruit" he murmured, his voice thick with adoration. He paused for a moment, letting you come down from your high before withdrawing completely.

"Feel like we should make the most of this brief time we have." you manage to finally say as your breathing steadies, looking down at him between your thighs.

Tōru agrees, his eyes sparkling with mischief and desire, your own juices now running down his chin, which he wipes away, only to lick his fingers clean.

“Have I shown you the view?” he teases, and you’re unsure where this is going as he guides you off the counter, walking you over to the floor to ceiling windows in the living room.

The view of course being a beautiful and mesmerising sea view. The waves crashing against the shore as the water sparkled under the sun.

He leans down, whispering in your air, “You can watch the sea as I fuck you...You know, really appreciate Argentina whilst you’re here.” he jokes, slipping your underwear completely down to your ankles, his shorts joining them on the floor as he lifts up the shirt that you're wearing, his shirt.

“Alright, pretty,” he says huskily, “Let's enjoy the view.” He has you against the cool glass as he lines himself up, one hand reaching around to rest on your stomach.

“Ready?” he asks, his voice low and rough. Your hips rock back, inviting him in, the head of his cock nudging at your entrance. With a deep growl, he pushes in, filling you completely. The combination of fullness and the sight before you sends shivers down your spine.

“Fuck, yes,” Tōru groans, pulling back slightly before thrusting forward once more. The rhythm quickens, his hand gripping your hip to steady your movements, and your moans growing louder as you watch the horizon.

His movements become more urgent, each thrust driving deeper. His hand moves from your stomach to move your hair, exposing the tender skin of your neck. He presses soft kisses there, his teeth nipping and scraping, marking you as his, if only during these two weeks.

The sensations build, your body arching, begging for release. Tōru can sense your need, and he responds by thrusting faster, the sound of flesh meeting flesh echoing through the spacious room.

“You look real good in my shirt, fuck- but you’d look better if it was my volleyball one.” he groans at the thought of you wearing his name and number, the image sending waves of desire through him.

He can already imagine it, you wearing his jersey, your hair dishevelled, a sly grin on your lips as you lay in his bed, waiting for him. The mental image fuels his actions, his pace becoming frantic, desperate.

God, he’d known you for no more than 24 hours but he was hooked already, captivated by you.

His grip tightens on your hip, the force of his thrusts increasing, each one bringing you closer to the edge. Your eyes flutter shut for a moment before Tōru's voice meets your ear, "Open your eyes, baby-" a small whine escaping his throat that he tries to cover up by nibbling your earlobe.

As your eyes flutter open at Tōru's urging, you're still reeling from the sensation of his cock stretching you out. "Necochea," he says, his voice thick and heavy with lust, "Is a small city, the beach is perfect for surfing."

His hands roam along your body as he lifts one of your legs to allow himelf to thrust deeper, "Quequen Lighthouse's nice, I should show you." he says and you're hardly paying attention to what he's saying when he's hitting all the right spots.

"As much as I would love to learn about this place, kindly shut up for the moment." you say breathily, a small laugh escaping before your breath hitches as his fingers meet your clit.

He chuckles at your demand, as he continues the movement of his skilled fingers. "Don't worry, baby, I promise I'll show you all the best parts of this place, might have to steal you from your friends."

Tōru keeps his word, his hand working mercilessly, his cock pounding into you, his thrusts deep and unrelenting. The dual assault has you teetering on the edge once more, your body pressed against the glass, completely at his mercy.

“Almost there, angel,” he promises, his voice a low rumble, "Tell me when you're ready for me to fill you up.” his words and the feeling of his thrusts was overwhelming to say the least.

You gasp, your mind swimming in a sea of sensation, unable to form words. It's all too much as your muscles spasm, your climax crashing over you, utterly consuming you.

Tōru feels you tighten around him, and with a deep growl, he follows you over the edge, his cum filling you completely to the brim as he holds you close, your bodies sticky with sweat and desire. He rests his head on yours as he tries to steady his breathing.

Finally, he pulls out, easing your leg back down as he turns you around, "Thank you for letting me show you a different side of Argentina," he murmurs, his voice soft and laced with contentment.

His lips find yours in a deep, lingering kiss, the scent of sex and sweat mixing with the salty tang of the sea in the background.

He holds you close, tapping your legs as if urging you to lift them, so you do, wrapping them around his waist as he lifts you up, moving through the apartment, tongues still dancing against one another.

He grins into the kiss as he carries you to the bedroom, "One more round and then I swear I'll drive you back to your Airbnb." he teases, laying you down on his bed.

“But you better come to my game next friday.”

༄ m.list

#oikawa tooru #oikawa x reader #oikawa #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu smut #hq #hq fluff #hq smut #hq drabble #oikawa x you #oikawa fluff #oikawa smut #oikawa drabble #༄ eri writes

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orangeocelotmartyn · 5 months

Text

Jimmy's Customs ordeal and Iskall's surprise

Transcript under the cut

Cleo: Jimmy got stopped at US Customs, is that what you're saying JT? Joe: Oh--yeah, see, that's the thing, so, stuff like that I don't know how much the public knows, uh-- Cleo: Well this is from-this is from my chat, so, like--and Jimmy's Jimmy, Jimmy'll tell people. (laughs) Joe: Yeah yeah yeah, so, um, yeah, he definitely did. Uh--and he was the one that knew the least about what we were doing? Yknow? (Cleo cackles) At least Martyn had done it before, um. But like, yeah, they were--they were trying to good cop/bad cop him, and, uh, I don't know if you know Stage? She's one of the people who works for Gamer's Outreach who helped organize this-- Cleo: I--interacted with them, but I don't know them. Joe: So, yeah, Stage was saying that like, uh, that Customs calls, and is like, hey, we have somebody in holding, right now, that said that you would vouch for them. And she's like, well, I know a lot of people coming into the country cause I'm organizing a charity event, can you tell me their name? And they're like, no. You have to--you have to vouch for them. Joe: And-and-and Stage is just like, well, okay, I could give you a list of all of the foreigners coming in, or I could just tell you that I vouch for this person hoping that it's one of them and not somebody else lying because they know I have a bunch of people coming in, and uh, the Customs people were like, yeah that's good enough. (Cleo starts giggling) It's like, wait, really? That's good enough?! Okay-- Cleo: Wow, okay--(Cleo and Joe laugh) Joe: Like, like, they never said--I don't know Jimmy's actual name, like, um, oh, I will say-- Cleo: It is Jimmy. Joe: I will say a highlight of the trip--oh, but they didn't say like, 'we had James--' Cleo: --oh yeah-- Joe: 'so-and-so here.' Y'know, blah blah blah. Um. But like, yeah, one of the highlights of the trip was, uh, we were at like, a bar, or a restaurant or something and I was signing the check--y'know, you get a credit card thing, you sign it or whatever--and I was signing the slip, and Iskall just looks at me--looks at me and goes, "your name is really Joe Hills?!" And I'm like, yes-- Cleo: Iskall! Joe, through laughter: It just, it didn't occur to him--it didn't occur to him! Cleo: Iskall man, (wheezes) Is it news to him that you live in Nashville, Tennessee, is the question. Joe: I don't know. "Nashville, that's in America!"

#zombiecleo #joe hills #solidaritygaming #iskall85 #video #transcribed

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httpsseli · 2 months

Text

𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍 ✿; 𝖾𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗋𝗒

;𝗉𝗅𝗈𝗍. in which you tease ethan by sucking on a loli <3.

;𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀. smut, p in v, unprotected sex, oral sex (m receiving) brat!reader, switch!ethan, hair pulling, slight choking. silly ending x

authors note// gif is not mine at all! found on pinterest so whoever made this, credits to them! first time writing for this cutie so lets see how this goes🫡🫡.

it wasn't part of your weekend plans to sit down on your counter stool with ethan, but there he was in your apartment. ethan, the nerdy and cute boy, always seemed to shyly ask you for help, no matter what the occasion was. you couldn't help but notice his nervousness and blushing around you, as well as his attempts to look away. you also knew that he liked you, based on the compliments he gave and the way he reacted to your scent.

meanwhile for you, he was a cutie. he was a caring sweet boy, he always offered to stop by your house just to hang out and play video games, the two of you always shared a moment of giggling but you guys were idiots desperate and needy for each other. there was clearly moments where you heard him touching himself to you from the next door apartment that he shared with chad, ethan himself has also had an encounter of your sweet moans he wants to hear in person and not through a wall.

and now, here you two were. tutoring and chatting about whatever in life.

“so.. y-you turned this i-in, already?” he said looking at you, you looked back. that dirty thought coming back to your head as you nodded your head, “yes you dork, i always turn everything in before you..” you laughed holding onto the lollipop you’ve been sucking on. he rolled his eyes, you wrapped your lips around the sucker, looking at ethan. his curls and his natural puppy eyes making you already wet yourself.

“o-okay! so..” you cleared your throat, accidentally putting your hand on his thigh, sitting up. he looked at you quickly, you looked at him smiling and laughing. “sorry!” you said, he blushed a bit and you went back to sucking the flavor off the lollipop. he looked at your plumped lips, covered in that damn blueberry lip gloss. “hello! your homework is down here.. not my lips!” you said, he looked at you again, his eyes having a little sparkle. “h-huh? s-sorry..” he said, your finger pressing on his thigh. “w-what are you..” he stuttered, swallowing dryly.

you swirled your tongue around the sucker, “nothingg, i’m just helping you with your homework..” you said, he felt blood rush down to his cock, and a boner would appear minutes later. you sucked loudly on the lollipop, ethan knew you were taunting him. “alright that’s enough.” he grabbed the candy throwing it across the kitchen, “hey! why’d’d you—“ he looked at you. “get up.” he said, you scoffed with your mouth hanging open. “uh no..” you crossed your arms, he got up pulling you from the chair. “ethan what the fuck! ow!” he threw you across his shoulder, slapping your ass harshly causing you to blush and smirk.

he went to your room, closed the door, and locked it before throwing you on the bed. you were about to sit up before he grabbed your cheek, kissing you deeply and hungrily. you kissed back, wrapping your arms around his neck. he caressed your clit through your panties, causing you to whimper in his mouth. hands starting to tangle with his curls, he tugged on your tube top. “take it off.” he said breathlessly before diving back down to kiss you. you pulled away, giggling pushing him down on your bed this time.

“don’t get too hard e..” you said giggling, looking directly at his boner. he rolled his eyes, you got out of your white converse before pulling down on your skirt. his breathing hitched, your hands traveling up to your boobs. you pulled down the top, your boobs bouncing out while you pulled the top off. you walked over to ethan, who was eyeing every little thing, his eyes glued on to you. you sat in front of him, sitting on your knees. you palmed his boner through the jeans smiling. “is this where you need me badly?” you said giggling, you unbuttoned his jeans.

his breathing slowly began getting heavier as time went by, you pulled down both his jeans and boxers at the same time, his cock springing out as you looked at his length. your mouth watering at the sight, your motion picking up itself already starting to stroke him, you spit down onto the tip. collecting the wetness as your hand moved up, he tilted his head holding back a groan. you wrapped your mouth around the top, he groaned. you swirled your tongue around in little circles, and you began to take in more, accelerating your breathing through your nostrils. he leaned his head back, letting out a moan. you bobbled your head slowly, he looked down watching your head movements. his hand making contact with your hair, tugging on it. “look at me when you do this.” he panted.

you hummed, bobbing your head matching the rhythm of your head with your hand that was jerking him off. “so so good.. fuckkkkghhh..” he whined, laughing breathlessly. your eyes all teary, hollowing your cheeks, dipping your head in deeper. he moaned softly, picking up more of your hair into a shifted ponytail. you looked up at him, and he bucked his hips up causing you to gag. “just exactly what i wanted to s-see..” his stomach turned into putty, and with a bit of strength he got up. he pushed on your head deeper, thrusting his cock into your mouth now. you held onto his thighs, your nails leaving crescent marks on his milky skin. you gagged, once the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat. you pulled your mouth away, gasping for air. a string of saliva and pre-cum attaching onto the bottom of your lip to the head.

you looked up at him, stroking him slowly yet again. he grunted, holding onto your hair tighter. you took him back in your mouth, bobbing your head quickly. he looked down at you, your watery eyes causing him to twitch in your mouth. “j-jesus, you’re incredible at this..” he stuttered, you moaned around him bobbing your head deeply. he bit down on his bottom lip, and you snickered at how noisy he was. “oh fuck i-i’m going to..” he moaned loudly pushing your head deeper, your nose against his pelvic bone causing you to gag, he filled your mouth up with his sweet liquid. you pulled your mouth away.

he sat back on the bed, and you stuck your tongue out at him. he looked down at you, and you giggled giving him a wink before swallowing his seed. his cock twitched when he saw your mouth covered in his cum, and your mascara nearly smudged off including your white eyeliner, you pulled on his shirt, “take it off..” he pulled the bottom of his shirt over the top, taking it off. you sat on his lap, kissing him deeply, he kissed back already slipping his tongue in, gripping onto your ass. just as you were about to roll your hips, he gripped onto your waist holding you tightly against his chest. he put you down against your pillows. “you’re so fucking noisy.” you said catching your breath from the deep kiss, he slapped your hip. “we’ll see about that sweetie, maybe your even more noisier.” he said tilting his head.

your eyes were too focused on his eyes and his face, not even focused on what his hand was doing. he smirked, wrapping his hand around your thigh, and lifting it onto his shoulder. “mhm, sure.” you said rolling your eyes, he pushed himself in causing you to whine. he chuckled pulling out, “you can take more right? after all you enjoyed mouth fucking that lollipop.” he said slamming himself in fully. you arched your back with a loud cry, he thrust rapidly not letting you adjust to his size. your hands gripped onto his bicep, your moans were way too loud. nearly sounding like a porn video was being shot, he covered your mouth with his palm.

“shut up.” you moaned into his hand, legs wrapping around his waist, he found himself at a deeper angle causing him to moan every time he slid himself in, he looked down at your boobs watching them bounce up and down, his fingers were close to your mouth, you opened up your mouth taking his fingers into your mouth. his eyes slightly widened, and you sucked onto his index finger hoping your moans went quiet. his tight grip unexpectedly on your waist turned you around. you giggled, turning your head over to your shoulder.

ethan’s cock twitched at the view of yourself in your fours while your hair was flicked to the left side of your shoulder. you rolled your eyes, “just going to stand there gawking at my ass?” you said, he slapped your ass causing you to moan. “less bratty, more moaning.” he said, slamming his cock inside you again causing you to let out a long moan. he shoved your head into the blanket, your hole filled with the mix of your wetness causing a milky color against his dick and your ass.

you gripped onto your pillows, arching your back even further out. “what a brat, begging for more aren’t you?” he said slapping your ass, the second slap leaving a mark. you were moaning repeatedly, his cock making wet noises against your ass. he pulled on your hair, making your head lean back further.

“answer me y/n.”

“yes!” you said, he let go of your hair. “don’t.” thrust “drop.” thrust “your head.” he said, you nodded your head quickly, “mmhm!” you said agreeing, he held onto your shoulders, fucking into your g-spot hard and senseless. your mouth starting to sore from being opened due to your moan. “feels good after you fucking teased..huh?” he moaned out, you nodded your head. “use your goddamn words.” he slapped your ass, and you cried out. “y-yes e! feels so fucking amazing!” you said, he gripped your waist tighter. he kissed your neck, his tongue dragging across your skin, and your body felt incredibly full from his cock. “g-god i’m so close to cumming.” he said, you didn’t even answer.

you let your moans do most of the responses, he began sucking around your neck, taking his time marking you. your walls began to tighten at another round, but you were so tired and fucked out of your mind. your orgasm was coming in closer, the burning sensation causing you to sob out a moan. “oh fuck! oh fuck, fuck, fuck!” you screamed when he pushed himself into your g-spot again as you gushed around him. he moaned uncontrollably, cumming inside you, pulling away from your neck with a pop. he grunted jerking himself off getting the bits of cum to spill on your ass. you fell on your stomach, breathing heavily, heart fluttering.

he slapped your ass one more time, causing you to whimper. you turned around after a few seconds from the slap, “what about.. another round?” he said, your eyes widened while your brows furrowed. “a-are you crazy!” you said slapping his arm, he giggled. you laid down, trying to control your breathing. you closed your eyes for a moment as you were already falling asleep.

by the next morning, you felt a slight weight on your chest. the sounds of the doves calling out and the cars driving by made you gain consciousness back. “get off my boob..” you whined, your hand resting on his back, fingers running up and down. “your such a grumpy girl..” he said, you groaned smacking his back softly. you looked down at his eyes, you sighed softly. “you’re very pretty e..” you said, his eyes shot up to lock with yours. “y-you think so?” he spoke, fingers poking the side of your tit, you nodded. “you’re also a very smart boy, and you’re caring too..” you said quietly, his cheeks turning pink.

“are y-you confessing to me?” he said, you nodded your head. “yes you dork.. i enjoy every little moment with you..” you spoke, playing with his curls. he buried his face into your tits from embarrassment. “so.. what are we then?” he muffledly spoke out, and you giggled. “you’ll see later..”

#ethan landry #ethan landry fic #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x you #ethan landry smut #jack champion smut #jack champion x reader #jack champion x you

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endless-ineffabilities · 21 days

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For His Eyes Only (a Chemical Override minishot)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: credit goes to this genius anon! This one is set right before part 7, when they've just started their fwb arrangement. Again, no taglist for minishots. I trust that this will find you when it finds you <3

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

Fabien hoped to comfort Ewan over his recent heartbreak with the reader, but soon discovers that things between them have taken an unexpected turn.

Fabien and Ewan slid into a booth at their usual pub, the ambient noise of clinking glasses and laughter surrounding them. The two lads were incidentally in the same part of town for respective meetings, and thought to meet afterward.

Fabien couldn't help but eye his friend with a mix of concern and curiosity. The last time they’d met, Ewan had been putting on a front, dismissive about his past involvement with you. But Fabien saw right through him.

“So, how’s it going, mate?” Fabien asked, trying to sound casual but clearly probing. “How’s it really going? I’ve been meaning to have a proper one-with-one with you, you know?"

Ewan, who had been looking unusually cheerful, took a long swig of his beer. “Yeah, I’m good. Really fucking good, actually.” The statement was loaded, and while it wasn't exactly insincere, Fabien could sense something lingering underneath.

Ewan’s upbeat demeanor felt too polished, too forced. Fabien asked, “Did you find some magical cure for heartbreak?”

Ewan’s lips curled into a mysterious smile. As he leaned forward to grab some peanuts from the table, he tilted his head slightly, revealing a conspicuous hickey on his neck. Fabien’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Well, well,” Fabien said, trying to suppress a grin. “Looks like someone’s been busy.”

Ewan caught on, freezing in place as if a deer in headlights. But he quickly rolled with it, his smirk widening, eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and defiance. “Yeah, you could say that.”

Fabien leaned back, feigning shock. “So, did you find a new lady to help you get over things, or is this just a new accessory? Anyone I know?”

Ewan replied, “It’s not what you think. Things are a bit… complicated.”

“Complicated?” Fabien echoed, his curiosity piqued. “Like, how many people are we talking about?”

Ewan shrugged nonchalantly, but his smile betrayed a hint of pride. Or was that bitterness? “Let’s just say my lips are sealed.”

Fabien laughed, shaking his head. “C’mon, don’t leave me hanging. I’m dying to know what’s really going on.”

Ewan just raised his glass. “Trust me, you’re better off not knowing.”

As they clinked glasses, Fabien couldn’t help but marvel at how Ewan had managed to move on so quickly and intriguingly. Last time they met, in the pub with the other lads, Ewan could not conceal each flicker of emotion on his face when Fabien told him about meeting you. That glimmer of hope when Fabien hinted that you and Jacob didn’t seem like anything more than friends.

Whatever was happening in Ewan’s life, it was clear he wasn’t about to reveal all the juicy details just yet.

Ewan offered to buy another round, gesturing to the bartender while pulling out his wallet.

Fabien glanced down, his eyes catching on a familiar photo peeking out - a sweet, old picture of a younger Ewan with his nan. It made Fabien smile softly, but as Ewan fished around for his card, the photo flap flipped open a bit too far, revealing something else entirely.

Fabien blinked, doing a double-take as the new image came into focus. It was you. And not just any picture of you - oh no, this one was definitely… memorable. You were seated sideways to the lens, twisting provocatively to meet the camera’s gaze, your arms draped alluringly over your bare chest. A duvet, blessedly, thank the gods, covered your lower half, but the whole scene was just shy of being a full-on scandal.

Fabien’s mind raced between wanting to laugh and praying for divine intervention to erase what he’d just seen. “Uh, Ewan...” Fabien swallowed nervously, trying to find the right words to address the situation without making it even more awkward.

Ewan, still busy with his card, finally glanced up, noticing Fabien’s expression. “What?” he asked, his brow furrowing in confusion before following Fabien’s gaze to the open wallet. The moment he realized what was on display, his eyes widened, and he snapped the wallet shut with an embarrassed exhale.

“Fuck's sake,” Ewan cursed, trying to play it off, though the pink tinge in his cheeks betrayed him. “Yeah, that’s, uh… a private moment.”

Fabien stifled a laugh, raising an eyebrow. “Private? No kidding, mate. But aren't you holding on to the past?”

Ewan shot back with a protective edge to his voice. “Look, this is between me and…” He trailed off, giving Fabien a meaningful look. “And it’s not for public viewing.”

Fabien held up his hands in mock surrender, a grin still tugging at his lips. “Hey, your secret’s safe with me. But you might want to keep that flap under control, or you’ll give someone else a heart attack.”

Ewan rolled his eyes, but there was a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, yeah. Just… forget you saw anything. That view is for my eyes only.”

“Oh, trust me, I’m trying,” Fabien replied with a chuckle. Ewan’s reaction just about gave away the lone culprit for the fresh lovebite on his neck.

As they continued their conversation, Fabien couldn’t help but think that he was right all along - whatever was going on between Ewan and you, it was clearly more cherished than he’d realized.

“You better erase all trace of that picture from your brain,” Ewan smirked at some point later, humorously warning.

Fabien incredulously responded, “Mate, I have a girlfriend! Damn, I worry about the poor sod who will ever try to properly steal her from you.”

“So do I.”

Good ol' blast from the recent past! See you for part 9 💙

What did you think of Ewan's precious little picture? If you have more minishot ideas, let me know below!

#ewan mitchell #chemical override #ewan mitchell imagine #ewan mitchell x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon

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tinytennisskirt · 1 month

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best friend!patrick zweig who is totally not in love with you…

headcanons with a plot <3

warnings: mentions of sex, kissing, marijuana, smoking, casual touches, jealousy, and silent yearningggg

- insists that he drives you home even if you’re the slightest bit tired. you yawn at his place- you’re not driving home. he says it’s to keep you safe but really, he just wants more time with you.

“it’s like twenty minutes out, i’ll drive, it’s nothing.”

“i’m perfectly fine to drive! i just yawned, i’m not tired.”

his foot is down. “yeah, that’s not happening.”

“you’re going to take a bus home? patrick…”

“i’ll take a taxi if it makes you feel better?”

“uh huh.”

- he follows the sidewalk rule. he’s never heard of it before but he does it, just on his own.

- saves you the last slice or even bite of anything he’s eating that’s worth it. he orders a really good burger, the very last bit left is yours. ordering a pizza, the last slice is yours. even a slice of cheesecake, the last bite is yours. bonus points to him for making sure the last bite contains all elements of what he had. the burger has all toppings left on the last bite, the cheesecake has the crust and the caramel drizzle, etc.

- doesn’t get why you choose such shitty men to go out with and waste your best dresses for the wrong eyes. he plays it off as caring about you, but he’s jealousss

“i have another date tonight with tony,” you tell him. he looks up from the can of ravioli he’s opening.

“tony with the hair or tony with the fake hair?”

you tsk, “with the hair.”

“the guy with the weird moustache who runs the laundromat? really?”

“he’s nice!”

“just nice shouldn’t cut it. and doesn’t he have the weird butt-chin thing? come on.”

“he treats me well! compliments me, pays for things…”

“yeah okay, with the laundromat money, you’re sure it’s not going on credit?”

by the end of the conversation he’s telling you that you look nice, a little defeated, but he means it. he can’t talk you out of it truly without first admitting he likes you and secondly, admitting to you he likes you.

- he’s always down to spend time with you. he might say he’s busy but he’s not. and when he is, he moves things around just to see you, but he won’t tell you that.

- he buys the drinks you like just to keep them in the fridge. he buys more every time he goes out so the stock of it keeps growing and soon enough it’s taking up two shelves in his fridge.

“i’m going to make something to eat for dinner,” you say, opening the fridge. and the fridge is near-full of your favourite drink. he usually gets it for you, you’d assume he just had a few but no. he has so many. and the thing is, he doesn’t like the drinks. so it’s just really weird. there’s a million of your drinks and then in the empty spaces, ketchup, mustard, milk, ground beef, cheese, and two red peppers next to the can of opened redbull. what for? who knows. you walk back out to where patrick is sitting and he looks up from his phone.

“we can get groceries. don’t have much right now,” he reaches for his keys and you laugh just a little, which stops him. you hold up one of the drinks and he just stares at it, knowing you know about the shelves upon shelves of it. “they were on sale, fuck off.”

- any time you’ve slept at his place he either gives up his bed and sleeps on the couch, or if you fall asleep on the couch you always wake up the next morning with a comfy blanket over you and a proper pillow under your head. he won’t move you, he’s too afraid to wake you. or on nights when you know you’re staying over or even on a whim, he’s used to giving you his clothes to sleep in because he knows you like the fit of them. they’re comfortable.

- without you coming over, patrick wouldn’t do any of his chores. he’s only motivated by the idea that you might come over and think he’s a slob. you already know he’s a slob, but he does a good job at hiding it. it always smells a bit like febreeze when you come over and not that you mind it- it smells good. but it can’t mask the slight cigarette scent and the scent of his cologne which is without a doubt on every surface he’s ever layed on.

- he’s the guy you can go to for honest opinions because he’ll always shamelessly side with you. a fight with a friend who was clearly in the wrong? he doesn’t even try to see the other perspective, he’s on your side no matter what. your ex and his new girl? he thinks she’s ugly and a downgrade and he’s an asshole for posting the grocery store flowers he got for her. he’s jealous, but he’s good knowing your ex fumbled you.

“they’re yellow.”

“he got her yellow chrysanthemums?”

you chuckle and look at him. “you know what flowers those are?”

“saw them the other day at the store. on sale, $5. same ones, look at the wrapping.” he says, pointing at the laptop. “he’s broke and she doesn’t even know it.”

you laugh. he’s glad to hear it.

- when you go out to bars he pays for your drinks. says you deserve it- you do come over and cook all the time so why not?

- patrick is known to crack a few jokes but when you’re serious, so is he. you’re upset? he’s listening, he won’t make fun of you unless he knows it’ll make you feel better. he’ll sit next to you, let you talk, cry, get really angry, get really sad. he’s there. and he’ll comfort you in whichever way you need. it’s his softer side, the one you bring out. lets you lean against him, he’ll even hug you if you ask.

- he’s a GOOD HUGGER. he gives amazing hugs, they are so enveloping, so comfortable. his arms wrap all the way around and not only do his arms squeeze you the perfect amount of tight, but his hands as well. he’s always warm but not hot, and he smells like good cologne and slightly of cigarettes. he’ll take any chance to hug you and you’ll gladly have it.

- struggling not to think about fucking you when you’re trying on dresses for a date. he’s thinking ‘what will these guys think when they see you?’ and his mind is on one thing that they’ll be thinking. but his mind is on it too, when you come out in a little black tube dress and you ask him if it’s too short. it’s too short for sure.

“what about the cleavage though? too much? not enough?”

“hm?” he’s not paying attention to your words.

“the cleavage. too much?”

“yeah. maybe try a turtleneck.”

yeah yeah it’s wrong to think about sex with your best friend, but the dresses, each shorter and showing more skin than the next we’re making him so incredibly horny. he doesn’t do well with that. goes home and fucks his own hand at the thought. helps to distract himself from the fact you’re out on a date with someone else who might actually get to take off that dress :(

- he’ll show up at your place with whatever it is you say you’ve been wanting and he will make a night out of it. wings? he’s at your door with them in an hour. drinks? yeah he stopped for a six pack of whatever he grabbed. he’s always down to get food. you want to go out? he’ll pick you up to go get whatever it is you’ve been wanting. a good excuse to actually work on bulking. not that it’s date-like.

- he’s got a photo of you in his wallet. it’s a platonic thing, he swears to the girl he takes on a date. she’s pretty but she’s not you. the photo of you sitting pretty with a potted plant doesn’t give off ‘available’ and yeah he kisses her but she is not you. he leaves early and calls you on his way back. he’s pretty sure he’s fucked forever because he’s realizing he only wants you.

- he’s protective at parties. he’s already watching you dance and have fun but when you come there with him and start flirting with guys it provokes him just a little more than it would if he were sober. he’ll walk over and slip his arm around your shoulder or even your waist if he’s had enough to drink and he’ll ask the guy how he’s doing and he’s 100% running interference pretending he’s just out of it from the alcohol and it isn’t the fact he’s jealous.

“hey man,” patrick usually greets the guy, hand resting on the small of your back. he’s always got a big smirk on his face, tongue against his cheek. “what’s up?” the move usually scares the guy off and you playfully hit or elbow him, but it’s worth it.

- his doors are always open to you. you have a key if you need it. so when you show up, soaked from the rain, upset over tony the laundromat guy being the dick patrick was so right about him being (despite not knowing the guy at all), he wraps you in his arms and he listens to the whole story. you’re complaining about genuine men being so hard to find and he’s sitting right there. he just brings his hand to rest against his jaw and looks off to the side at something as you continue speaking and he’s listening, he just hates what he’s hearing.

- he’ll take off whatever jacket he’s wearing if you’re cold. he won’t be happy about it- or look happy about it, but he might be a little happy about it… he’ll complain about what he’s going to do in the cold but the sweater or jacket is on you within five minutes of your ask.

- he’ll begrudgingly do whatever you ask of him. like he does not want to get up at 4:50 in the morning and drive to the hilltop to watch the sunrise. he wants to stay asleep, snoring in his bed, but you wake him up and he hates it, but it’s you and it’s the sunset so he goes with you. but in his still-tired state all he can seem to focus on is the light of the sunrise hitting your skin. he’ll either do it super slowly or begrudgingly, sometimes he might even say no. but it never stays a no.

- again. can’t stand that you keep giving your time to men who don’t know how to treat you. he goes to the bar, he drinks about it a little, he talks to the bartender about you. the bartender knows you by name, knows your favourite album, knows you go out with guys who aren’t him, and he knows you’re beautiful, having your features described by a drunk patrick who uses his hands a lot to gesture. it’s weird when you go to the bar with patrick another night and the bartender already knows your name and the drink you want.

- drunk patrick uses all the self control he has not to tell you he wants you. he almost lets it slip with unfinished sentences. does everything he can to fend himself off, but he’s very close to you when he’s drunk, his already-bad spatial awareness so much worse while impaired. his face always close to yours, nose sometimes hitting yours, he comes so close. hands reach for your waist when he’s near you. you don’t mind it- it doesn’t make you uncomfortable. it’s a different feeling. you manage to wrangle him into his bed and make him drink water. he’s talking to you like there are important things you need to know before he absolutely passes out.

“if that tony guy comes around again i hope he knows i owe him a broken nose,” he’ll say and he’s grinning and you’re just rolling your eyes at him, he’s so stupid. “you have to stop dating these guys, fucking douchebags. i know i’m not much better, but at least i don’t wear axe body spray and pick you up in a beat up honda.”

“patrick, you drive a honda,”

“mine isn’t beat up.” he says. so honest. you laugh at him and hand him back the cup of water. but he says it, “you deserve more than that kind of guy. want you to have someone who really gives a fuck, you know?”

“if i could find one,” you say. half-oblivious, half-looking for him to say something that’ll have meaning. it’s the first time his drunk mind is telling him the feeling in his chest is heartache. oh my god, he feels like such a girl- he just grins, dimples on his cheek crawling all the way up. he covers his face.

- when you’re hanging out with mutual friends, smoking, talking, he’s always taking the seat next to you. your friends all know he’s into you- most of them suspect you’re already dating on the down low, the way you guys are so close. you’re sitting on the couch and his arm is up on the back of the couch behind you, your hand sometimes resting on his leg, you have your own conversations on the side and you’re laughing and leaning toward each other. it’s obvious. he’s obvious. YOU are obvious. and oblivious! painfully.

- patrick will shave his beard for your birthday. he’ll trim it regularly but on your birthday he shaves it all off, it’s an annual thing. bare-faced and you find it so so fun to see him without.

- the dress you wear on your birthday is a little too perfect. the mix of you and your hair done and your makeup and the intention of drinking with your girl friends and asking him how you look before you leave. you usually ask him before you go out. he’s going out with you and your friends, but he comes over a little early, just how things are. he’s always honest.

“you look… wow.” he’s looking at you. you’re standing in front of him, little dress, perfectly fit to your body. and you’re smiling, doing a little spin. and you’re beautiful and god you’re so fucking hot. patrick fears for the possibility of his sober thoughts becoming drunk words later. you’re already unbearably fucking beautiful what is he going to do with himself?

- he’s a touchy drunk. not with everyone, not the same way he is with you. when he drinks his hands are magnetic to you, resting on your hands, hand on the small of your back, your waist, your arm. like i said before, you’re used to it, you don’t mind it, but it’s different when he’s staying somewhat sober because he’s afraid of how he’d act if he had more than three shots. he wouldn’t do anything you’re not comfortable with- it’s not that, it’s the fact he’s scared if he drinks tonight that you in your element, dancing, laughing, having fun in that little dress would provoke him to spill all of his secrets. he’s got a stoic form of self-understanding he’s taking to prevent anything dumb from falling out of his mouth under the influence.

- he does, however, fend off the creepy guys or just the assholes who try and buy you more drinks or even talk to you. he won’t let them get so far as to ask for your name. you whine but he just tells you, “you wouldn’t want to talk to them sober.” and you’re like hmm true. the defender position includes closing your tab, getting you home, and getting you inside safely. and usually you take care of him when he’s drunk or high, but he takes the opportunity very seriously. before he’s helped you get to bed but this particular time you’re asking him to undo the zipper on your dress and you’re lifting your hair.

he’s not going to tell you no, so he undoes the zipper and in seconds you’re stripping in front of him unabashedly and he turns around, arms folded, grinning to himself because of course this was happening. he is not an asshole, so he won’t turn around until you’re dressed, but when he turns around you’re only in one of his shirts that he’s been wondering where it went- and your underwear and you’re asking him to come sit with you because it’s still technically your birthday (it’s not).

he will, but he doesn’t want to stick around too long. despite the lack of alcohol, there’s still a pull to tell you how he feels, but that’s girly. and you’re drunk. he puts you to bed after making you drink water.

- he’s the kind of guy to keep a condom in his wallet- he’s never going to use it, it’s probably expired and worn in front his wallet being in his pocket but he has it in there. in fact it’s right behind the photo of you.

- he also has a stolen street sign in his living room from when he was on tour after high school. it’s custom for all guests visiting his place to slap it before they enter the room. if you don’t, there’s no consequences, but it’s just wrong not to. he will, however, catch YOU on it if you forget. holds you to it in whichever way he can.

- he’s totally debating on kissing you almost every time he’s with you. it’s getting progressively worse every time he’s with you he swears he’s going to do it but he doesn’t want to. (he wants to sooo fucking badly, it’s insane). any time you pass him by, every time you say his name, when you sit next to him, when you’re talking to him about anything, engaging with him, looking him in his eyes. it’s a struggle not to.

and you’re friends, longtime friends so the casual touches get to be too much, even. you cup his face with your hands saying he needs to shave and he’s only staring at your lips.

or you sit sideways next to him on the couch facing him and your hand is on his shoulder and you’re so close to him when you talk he really could just reach over and kiss you.

you sit on his counter while he’s making spaghetti and you’re eating the shredded cheese out of the bag and it’s weird but the height your at, it would be perfect.

- you are the cause of his biggest grins and most laughter. you don’t even have to try. he enjoys your company more than anyone else’s. platonically, romantically, in every way. you are his best friend. you get him on a level even art didn’t.

- he’ll pick you up whenever you need him to. doctors appointment, from a friend’s- so when your self-proclaimed final attempt at a date ends up terribly, he’s the first person you call. you’re all pretty for another piece of shit and patrick has to pretend he’s not happy the guy was so weird. you get in the car and his eyes fall on your collarbone and your thighs and you yourself catch it. his eyes. you pull a knowing little look. “shut up,” he says, driving away without even letting you get your seatbelt on.

- he’s not a door holder very often. maybe for old ladies and kids, and the occasional friend, but he’s holding every door open for you. he even opens the car door for you most times. get back to his place, you don’t want to go home yet, he holds the door for you on your way in. you hit the street sign on the wall before flopping down on his couch. it smells like citrusy febreeze and a bit like his cologne. out of his personal needs of restraint, he tosses you one of his comfy shirts and shorts so you can be out of that little dress. and after you take them to his bathroom to get changed, he’s still feeling the same way about the way you look. it was not the dress’ fault.

- the thing with patrick and other women is he’s never been afraid to go up to a girl, hit on her, he’s hardly been afraid to kiss a girl. he’s pretty confident all around but you are so different. the need to kiss you is all-consuming. he wonders if he should talk to you about things first when he’s never considered more than the flavour of a girl’s lip balm in the past. you make him nervous, sitting there in his clothes. i say there, but you’re next to him, hair behind your ears, talking about how you think you’re done with dating and you’re going to wait until the perfect guy falls into your lap. you’re playing some angle but he’s thinking that it’s a good thing. the conversation turns to joking, he’s teasing you, you tease back it’s just normal.

- of course patrick has a snack pantry. if he doesn’t have groceries, he has snacks. at a random point in conversation you tell him you could really go for an oreo right now and he’s so on that. so you both take a trip to the kitchen and you’re looking in the cabinet and you find the oreos and share them while continuing to talk at the counter. you’re going on about how strange your date was and how you felt if you stayed you’d be on a true crime document and the conversation begins to turn to thanking him for coming to get you. but like mentioned before, he’d always come get you. didn’t matter how far you were but he wouldn’t say that.

“it’s different, it’s not like you picking me up from the dentist, it’s you picking me up when i know you were busy.” you say. he smiles because he really wasn’t that busy- he was just out with friends of course he’d drop them for you. “i just want you to know i’m grateful is all.”

“don’t need to be-“ he says with his mouth full of oreo. “it was nothing, i was nearby anyway.” he wasn’t. he sped. in his honda.

“you’re so weird,” you giggle. “why can’t you just be normal about people thanking you for things you do? you go out of your way far too often.”

patrick chuckles to himself, shutting the package of oreos. he doesn’t do it for anyone else. “how do i be normal about it?”

“you could say ‘you’re welcome’, maybe?” you say. he nods. “i say i’m grateful for you and the things you do for the people you care about, namely me and you say ‘you’re welcome’.”

“we’re rehearsing?” he straightened himself as if getting ready and you pressed your hand to your forehead, smiling. “go for it. say how grateful you are for me and the things i do for you. only you.”

“so stupid, just say you’re welcome.” you giggle, throwing your hands up in the air in defeat. he grins, a sly grin, dimple on full display, gorgeous. he turns away from you to put away the oreos (if you weren’t there he wouldn’t have put them away). he shuts the cabinet door. “patrick?”

“yeah?”

and he’s met with your hand on the back of his neck, pulling him into a kiss.

- the way patrick kisses is very passionately. that’s who he is. he kissed a lot of girls in high school, met a few on tour that were worth making out with. his kisses are full of passion. but this kiss is from you, so he receives it like a gift. surprisingly politely. he’s never ever been caught so off-guard by a kiss. he didn’t see it coming at all. it’s a small kiss, a few seconds of lips fitting together perfectly, but you pull away. his face stays close to yours. he’s never had a kiss like this before. in the crowd of girls he’s ever kissed. it’s never felt like this. and it was so small.

“i’m sorry,” you say, hushed, but you’re smiling, so how sorry are you? he grins and in an instant, you’re kissing again, deeper, more, hands in his hair and his on your waist, holding tight. it’s all he’s thought about for a month on end. there’s something better than drugs and it’s this, patrick thinks. your back against the pantry door, him against you.

- he’s never been so in need of a kiss before. he’s never been kissed like this before. it’s somehow everything he’s ever wanted and everything he’s never gotten from every girl he’s ever kissed. and the thing about patrick is, like mentioned, he’s a moderately horny guy but this to him is all he wants. he only wants to kiss you. a few minutes pass and he’s doing something he’s never done and that’s talking it out with you. but as soon as he admits he likes you, he’s telling you to shut up because you’re giggling and it’s adorable and you can’t be calling him out on his crush like that…

- you admit to being a little oblivious and maybe admitting to repressing feelings because you weren’t entirely sure- and he’s instantly on making fun of you for it. he makes fun of himself for not seeing it sooner or for making a move sooner but there’s no room for apologies between another kiss. a kiss full of laughter where you just can’t stop laughing but you also won’t stop kissing him and it’s kind of perfect.

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