#YOU ART TASTES LIKE HARD CANDY !!!!!!!
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heartorbit · 8 months ago
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bugs when you lift up a rock
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canisalbus · 1 year ago
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why must Finns always tell people to try salmiakki? you guys sadistic or something?? visited over there some years ago and was given that stuff without explanation or warning and was told "just try it". and then the person laughed at my pain 😭 (and now I sometimes sadistically tell people to try it eheheh)
lmao love your blog tho, your art is very shaped and your dog men are very anguished and it speaks to me as a gay man from a very religious area (not religious myself, tho). also love reading your responses to asks, interesting stuff in there. anyway keep doing what you do! unless it's feeding salmiakki to unsuspecting foreigners, pls don't do that lmaooo
I guess it's just very funny to watch how people react to it! Salmiakki is extremely popular here and comes in many forms (my current toothpaste is salmiakki flavored, so are my d-vitamin supplements), yet it's absolutely inedible to many people who aren't used to it. They aren't offering it to people out of malice and I think in most cases you get a little warning beforehand, that it's a weird local food that might taste strong and unpleasant. I've known people who have moved here and gradually developed a liking for it. It goes well with milk chocolate and that mix might be a more palatable option if plain salmiakki doesn't appeal to you.
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hollypies · 2 years ago
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Slides in!!!!
hi hi!!!!
hey hey do you like this style of art
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because we've been doing art like this more and kinda wanna do art of your rw ocs like this but also if you don't like it: we don't wanna force a style you don't like on you
OOOONO THESE ARE GORGEOUS!!! I actually use a style like this sometimes when I do warm up doodles!!! It so so cool to look at and I love the way you all used a faded type brush!! Eating these!! Also that iterator is so pog . So swag!
Kissing you all on the head /platonic!!!!!
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tonycries · 6 months ago
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The Way You Kiss Me - G.S.
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Synopsis. The four times Satoru tries really hard not to kiss you - his best friend’s pretty younger sister. And the one time he doesn’t.
Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! Suguru’s sister! reader, childhood enemies to lovers, PINING Satoru, like really really disgustingly down bad, creampíe, oral (fem receiving), pússytalking, needy JEALOUS! Satoru, running away from it, spítting, punching is Suguru’s love language, mentions of aIcohol, pet names, swearing.
Word count. 7.4k (That’s wild)
A/N. BOO! Surprise upload. This was so fun to write omg.
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“You sure this is how the grown-ups get married?”
“Duh, I know everything.”
“Nuh uh, Toru.”
“Yuh uh!”
The first time Gojo Satoru kissed you was underneath that dingy playground slide that the two of you always raced to after elementary school. 
Usually, your older brother, Suguru, would walk home alongside you two - but this time, he’d just so happened to have been held back for throwing paper planes at the teacher that day.
A sign from the universe, Satoru internally celebrated, something he’d learned from those sappy romance novels his mother left lying around the house. No matter that he was the one that made those planes.
You were six back then, standing in front of a determined Satoru - reaching up on his tip-toes, face pink, smelling of those cheap strawberry lollipops he’d sneak into class and taunt you with. At the much older and wiser age of seven, he’d insisted on being the first one to lean in.
Just barely even grazing your dramatically puckered lips before-
Satoru learned two things that fateful afternoon:
Even as a seven-year-old, Suguru’s punches really hurt. 
Never mess with you. Anyone but you. 
Life only seemed to go downhill from there - because that last lesson was proving to be hard along the years. Really. Fucking. Hard.
Little did Satoru know that this would be the start of some strange, unpredictable little dance of push and pull. No, you definitely weren’t his wife. Nor were you exactly best friends - not really, that spot was reserved for your brother. But you didn’t think you could ever be just that either.
And the punch that’d knocked his wobbly tooth out onto the playground floor that day was a painful reminder that whatever that was - whatever weird thoughts he had later in middle school about how you’d tasted like candy - didn’t matter. No matter how part some tucked-away little part of him wanted it to.
Hell, eleven years later and Satoru still can’t walk around that familiar block without feeling slightly queasy. Which is why, after that failed first kiss, he knew there wouldn’t be a second. 
Instead, he settles back to teasing your pouty self, pushing all your buttons, tugging on those cute dresses you wore. Face burning so strangely with- humiliation? when you bickered right back, calling his haircut a “tragic attempt at modern art.”
“So you’re saying I look like art?” A gangly, now-seventeen Satoru blocks the bustling high school hallway, ignoring the bell. Grin only growing at your frustrated huff, he half-jokes, “Aww, if you’re that soft on me, sweetheart, maybe we should go to prom tog-”
You slam your locker, effectively shutting both it and Satoru at the same time. “I’d rather go with Yaga.”
“...you would not.”
“Would to.”
“Would not.”
“Would to.”
“Would- Sugu–!”
And all Suguru can do is wrap two hands around his neck, mock-choking himself, wondering if it was really too late to embrace a quiet life as a monk. “You’ll both be MLA cited in my farewell note.”
He was used to it, though, forced to watch all this chaos since quickly mending his friendship with Satoru over ice cream the day after the punch. Convinced that this was some punishment for a past life’s misdeed.
With a squawk of protest, Satoru’s turning back to you, eyes crinkling with a hint of mischief you knew too well, “Would not.”
Your face burns, “Would to, Toru.”
You didn’t go with Yaga. but Satoru didn’t exactly count that as a win in his books, either, because you did show up that night hanging off the arm of some jerk from the football team. 
And there you were, all dolled up - which he very objectively noted - way too prettily for some bastard like him. Stars in your eyes, and everything he couldn’t have in that smile. 
Everything. 
Way too gorgeous, even when he finds you sitting outside the gymnasium later on in the night. Too busy bawling your mascara off to even throw out your usual greeting insult his way. Murmuring out wetly about “that asshole” and how he humiliated you by stranding you in the middle of the dance floor for someone else. 
“Well, he was a jerk anyway. Even Yaga would’ve been better, hell, I-” Satoru stops short to his horror at the way you only cry harder.
Way too irresistible, especially as his body moves before his mind - holding out an open hand before he knows it. “I’m a much better dancer than him and you.” And oh Satoru will forever remember the way his heart lurches as you blink your teary eyes up in confusion, “Well, aren’t ya gonna take up the challenge?”
Weirdly, it wasn’t weird at all. 
If anything, you had to hold back your laughter the entire time at the way the great “campus sweetheart” Gojo Satoru was so on edge.
Just a friend comforting a friend, right?
So why was he avoiding your gaze with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, summer blue eyes pointedly trained right over your head. That pretty pink blush dusting his cheeks reflecting the hands hovering in midair over your waist. So close - and yet, fear in each and every turn and swirl.
Yours were searing into his broad shoulders as you tried to guide him to the muffled music from inside. And shit.
That night ended with a second kiss. 
You don’t know who leaned in first, just that Satoru’s soft lips were just fleeting on your glossy ones - barely even a touch. And that shit shit shit- this was Satoru. This was you. 
Everything. 
But it seems that every time Satoru was about to kiss you dangerously close to the way some tiny, forbidden part of his heart wanted to - the universe throws an obstacle at him. An obstacle that was six feet and named “Suguru”, currently running at break-neck speed out of the gym.
“MOVE YOUR ASSES!” he cackles, “THE FOOTBALL TEAM ISN’T TOO HAPPY ABOUT ME BREAKING THEIR STAR PLAYER’S NOSE.”
And not a word is uttered about the kiss as the three of you speed out of the school parking lot in Suguru’s busted-up black hellcat, the wind mussing up the hairstyle that took Satoru over two hours to perfect. Sneaking in glances at the sight of you singing along at the top of your lungs to some overplayed pop song on the radio. 
He learns another two things that night:
Apparently, Suguru’s right hook still really fucking hurt. And thank god for tonight’s casualties of noses, because it was a wonder that he didn’t look too hard at how close Satoru was with you. 
He didn’t…dislike the feeling of your lips on his. And judging by the way you meet his eyes in the rearview mirror - you didn’t either.
It’s mainly that last one that makes him gulp.
Neither of you remember the third kiss - though, Satoru’s sure that at least 80% of Shoko’s instagram followers did.
According to a very hungover Shoko, and the many, many forms of documentation, it had happened on the New Year’s eve during your third year in university. In which you were much more used to the raging parties that would be hosted at Suguru’s apartment, and only slightly less intimidated by them.
“And you’re a lightweight too, dumbass. You were gone.” Shoko sighs from across the café table, eye bags deeper than the last time he’d seen her. “Like gone gone.”
God, what a way to start the year.
Satoru bites back a remark about how “gone” Shoko herself had been. Sitting up straight in his seat, regret immediately hitting his senses faster than the guilty throbbing at his temples. He winces, managing out a semi-disbelieving groan of, “Gone gone?”
And she’s only nodding wearily, subconsciously tapping out the rest of her cigarette ashes onto his untouched plate of sweet pastries. 
“I’m talking dancing on expensive coffee tables and fighting to stop you from giving everyone there a strip show.” She cracks a smirk through a waft of smoke, “Though, she would’ve loved that I’m sure.”
“Har har har, you’d make even Nanami laugh with that one.”
“Eugh, gross.” Shoko taps through her phone briefly, swirling it around to show Satoru a few pictures that definitely gave him a mini-heart attack at 8:57 in the morning. “You look like you’re about to pen really bad poetry.”
And perhaps this was Shoko’s plan all along - to shock Satoru to the core hard enough that she can note it down as one of her sketchy psychological experiments. 
But he knew. Could feel it in the hazy fragments of memories - or, at the very least, in that entire highlight that Nanamin had oh-so-conveniently put up on Instagram titled, “Blackmail.”
You knew. 
You’d kissed him back. 
“I don’t have a-.” you slur, stumbling ever-so-slightly as you try to meet Satoru’s glassy eyes. Because shit the years have had him shooting up faster than you could look up. “-a New Year’s kiss, y’know.”
You were older - more gorgeous, if that was even possible now. That tight dress hugging your body so unfairly in a way that had him forgetting you were his best friend’s sister. 
The one person in this whole world that he couldn’t have.
But Satoru leans in closer, more because he wants to than anything - he could pick out your voice anywhere let alone over the thumping music currently filling his crowded living room. Lips loose as he tries to play up the cool-guy facade he’s been dubbed with since freshman year, “Hah, loser. Because I do.”
“Where?”
At this, Satoru is stumped - damn, you were good. 
“Not- uh here?” If he was in any clearer state of mind, he’d have been embarrassed at the way his voice cracks so traitorously as your unsteady hands pull him in closer by his overpriced button-up. 
Your body was flush against his now, so addictive. Gaze half-lidded and flickering between the sliver of milky skin exposed on his chest - from that impromptu striptease he’d almost started earlier - and the blue eyes that were currently locked you. You whisper a strained, “Liar.”
Close - too close. So dangerously close.
He breathes out against your lips, the smell of booze and you so heady in his mind. And the heavy words falling from his lips sound like lies, even to him. “Not.”
“Toru?” you hum, a sound that has him gasping. “Shut up.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
And there went your New Year’s kisses. At exactly 11:37PM, if the photos were anything to go by. 
And holy shit were there many. All of which showed your arms looped around Satoru’s neck, crashing his lips to yours. His own, resting against your waist, a scandalously red blush - whether from the alcohol or you - adorning his cheeks. Looking more blissed out than he ever remembers feeling. 
“I’m a dead man, Shoko.” 
There’s a lengthy silence, leaving Satoru stewing in thoughts of how Suguru would react once he finds out. And whether or not he’d be able to rise from the dead just to see how pretty you’d look at his funeral.
Morbid thoughts broken only by Shoko’s cough, “Hey, can I keep your eyes for experimentation if he actually catches you?”
Subtly, he sends himself those photos from last night.  
Luckily for Satoru’s eyes, they never ended up being donated towards Shoko’s questionable contributions to the world of medicine. 
And by some grace of the gods above, Suguru never mentioned a word about the kiss that would’ve inevitably made its way to him. Or maybe it was because Satoru stole his phone until he managed to pester Nanami just enough to take down that highlight. But, semantics. 
His heart, however, might as well have been part of some experiment.
Because it’s been working overdrive since that night - mind reliving that moment over and over and over and- shit, he’s fucked. So, so fucked. 
Fucked enough that it took Satoru months just to muster up to even look in your pretty eyes once more, unless he wanted to get lost in them forever. Fucked enough that he dared to wonder again and again when there might be a fourth kiss - if there would be a fourth kiss. 
He just never thought it would happen the way it did - with you, standing outside his front door. 
“I’m sorry, Toru.” you mumble, “It’s just- I think we both need to grow up.”
You’ve freshly graduated now, looking more and more irresistible each time he sees you - even when you’re looking at him like that. 
Rolling his eyes, “Ha, is this another way of saying you want my secret to getting taller? Because the first thing is to-”
“I’m serious, Satoru.”
And oh how he wished you’d say something - anything - else right now. Call him anything but that. Maybe even throw an insult his way, tell him those new sunglasses look ugly, or about how you got that internship he would’ve died for. 
Satoru manages to choke out a heavy, “I don’t understand.” But that uncomfortable coil of something curling at the pit of his stomach said otherwise. And it causes him to finally breathe out a hesitant, “Maybe you’re right.”
As if that was all the answer you needed, you’re stepping out of the front door. Slow, and deliberate like you were giving him another chance - a thousand more. Sighing out a defeated, “It’s been years.” It has. “And we’re just running in circles.” You have. “I’m starting to think this is just some game to you.” It wasn’t.
“Wait!” he grasps your hand - soft. The look in your eyes even softer as you turn around to face his desperate face. “Please, sweetheart.”
Satoru doesn’t even know what words he wants to say - let alone whether they’d come out of his heavy mouth. 
So, instead, he’s crashing them into yours. 
Brief. Fleeting. Like each one before this. Too addictive, too short, that he thinks he’s almost imagining it as you pull away gently, until he sees that look in your eyes. 
“Toru, I have a date.”
The fourth kiss.
Satoru’s letting go of you like it burned - and, truly, it felt like some deep, dark part of him was burning down right now. “Great.” That should be hm that should be him that should be- “I’m…happy for you.”
And the last.
He fucked up.
He really, really fucked up.
That first date turned into a second. The second into a third. And unfortunately for Gojo, eventually, you were nearing your one-year anniversary with that asshat you’d met during the early days of your internship. 
He’d seen the man himself once, briefly at another one of Suguru’s famous parties. Ducking out of sight before he could be introduced, yet long enough to know that he wasn’t as tall, or as handsome, or as absolutely fucking hilarious. 
What did he have that Satoru didn’t? 
The answer to that, Satoru’s reminded of every time he’s causing ruckus over at Suguru’s apartment, and sees you walking out of your room, tittering on the phone to none other than your boyfriend. So gorgeous. So not his. 
You, that loser had you.
“If you sigh again I swear I’m shoving this popcorn up your a-”
“It’s a sad movie, Suguru!” he defends, draped across your couch at another one of those movie nights you loved to organize. As usual, there was the popcorn, the god-awful movie (if Satoru picks it), and the arguments. The only thing missing, however, was you. Ugh, something about an “anniversary” and a “seafood date”. Seriously, it’s not like you even enjoyed that new seafood restaurant in town, and he’s sure that bastard didn’t know-
“Satoru.” his best friend’s deadpan voice cuts through his little reverie. “We’re watching Mean Girls.”
And he’s barely even opening his mouth to snark back before-
SLAM!
Suguru pauses the movie almost immediately, turning to the direction of the front door. “Uh oh.” 
And lo and behold - there was you in all your pissed off, beautiful glory. Throwing your keys on the table, your fiery glare passes over the two men as you stomp to your bedroom. 
“Seafood wasn’t that good, sweetheart?” Satoru calls out behind you, eyes sweeping down your figure. Heart stuttering in his chest when you turn around with your fists clenched, lower lip wobbling in a way that Satoru would both kill whoever made you feel this way and die to be on the other side of those daggers in your eye. 
Sniffing out an icy, “Fuck off, loser and loserette.”
Then in a whirlwind of rage, you’re gone - your bedroom door slamming only slightly more gently than you’d done with the front door. Leaving a deafening silence, and Satoru whining, “Why am I the loserette?”
“Deserved.” Suguru shrugs. Warily eyeing your door, as if it was about to pounce at any given second, “Let her cool down before you give her an aneurysm at least.” Unpausing the television, propping his feet back up, “S’enough having to deal with you on top of a boyfriend like that.”
And that has Satoru perking up in interest - both figuratively, and literally as he snatches the remote and pauses the movie. “Wait wait wait what-” Holding it way out of Suguru’s reach, “What do you mean a ‘boyfriend like that’?”
Scoffing, “Funny. Now give me back the remote.”
A beat of silence passes. One. Two.
Only then does it dawn on Suguru that this might just not be some strange prank to stroke Satoru’s ego, and he was actually  more serious than he’d ever seen him. Damn. 
“Bro, have you really never met the guy or something? He’s a complete tool. I don’t know what happened, but this breakup was a long time coming.”
Satoru blinks, feeling a red hot surge of anger. “What? Seriously? Why didn’t you do anything about it?”
“You think I didn’t try?” he sighs, running a hand through his hair at the other’s uncharacteristic silence. “Hah, and just imagine, the man was talking about marriage, too. As if.”
And suddenly, Satoru’s hit with an image of you walking down the aisle. Not something he was a stranger to, but it still takes him aback. The sway of the fabric beneath his fingers, your lips against his. Hell, in that split-second he even dreams up how Nanamin would be crying very reluctant tears of joy. 
Everything. Everything that wasn’t his.
His fist tightens around the remote, until he could hear the cracking of plastic. Mind whirling with the thought of you and him and you. How he wished it was him and you. “I would’ve been better.”
Oh. 
Shit. 
“I- fuck this. Suguru, since elementary school I…”
And, well, Satoru’s so busy putting that extra physics seminar he took in university to work - trying to calculate the odds of surviving a jump out of this seven-storey window - that he almost misses Suguru’s low hum, a distant, almost barely-audible little interruption, “Well duh.”
“Hold on.” he’s snatching away the remote that had somehow slithered its way into the other’s hands once again. Ignoring his best friend’s croak of protests to pause in the middle of Regina George being hit by the bus - which, he felt was strangely enviable right now. “That was- what? YOU KNOW?”
“Huh? Even my parents know, the only one that doesn’t is her.”
“...”
Satoru didn’t know how Suguru seemed so calm, but he felt like he was about to spontaneously combust. Heart stuttering in his chest as he sideglances at your firmly shut door - like he was just waiting for you to jump out and tell him this was some elaborate prank. 
Begging for you to come - it would’ve hurt less.
But you don’t.
Fuck. 
And the only response he gets is a low whistle, before a phone is being shoved in his face - flashlight illuminating that crimson blush. “Damn, the great Gojo Satoru speechless? The groupchat is gonna love this, might even send it to my sister, y’know.” 
He didn’t care - didn’t give a shit if this video made rounds to Gakuganji himself. Only one thought racing through his mind right now. 
“But why aren’t you punching me like in elementary school?” 
And Satoru knows he’s smart - intelligent even. Hell, he was the valedictorian, the youngest employee to claw their way up to being on the board of directors. But he’s never felt more stupid when Suguru breathes out a bewildered, “Dude. That was for blaming me for the paper planes.” 
“Oh.”
Then the movie is unpaused. 
---
The last time you kissed Gojo Satoru was at the doorstep to that overpriced penthouse of his, exactly a year ago today. 
The last time you saw Gojo Satoru was just a few hours ago, lounging around your living room like he owned it. Honestly, he might as well have been part of the furniture at this point - like some expensive, fluffy couch. One that prattled on about your “dumbass boyfriend” and god-knows-what else to rile you up just for the fun of it.
Which is why it was odd to step out of your bedroom - eyes just a bit puffy, throat still tight - to a suspiciously quiet hallway. 
The lights were turned off, nothing but the pouring rain sounding from outside, television paused on some rerun of The Princess Diaries. Damn, you told those idiots not to start that one without you.
“Sugu?” you call, finding his bedroom empty. “Thought tonight was movie night?” Padding across the empty apartment, contemplating whether or not to get your phone and call him when-
Ding!
Ah, there. 
You roll your eyes as you head towards the front door, ready to give Suguru a piece of his mind for going out at this ungodly hour and forgetting his key. Seriously, what if you opened the door and he was hurt, or worse, or…
Satoru. 
Speaking a mile a minute.
Satoru.
“-florist was closed and the store clerk looked at me like I was crazy but I got this for-” he pauses abruptly, as if realizing something with a jolt. “-you.”
“You- what-” you don’t know where to look - at the drenched, disheveled Satoru filling your doorframe - rain in his hair, curtaining his frantic eyes, drenching his snug t-shirt. Or at the obscenely large bouquet of cheap strawberry lollipops being placed gently into your arms. 
What follows was an electric silence - and you have half the mind to tease Satoru for finally shutting the fuck up for once in his life. 
But, no. Instead, you eye the way he stands stubbornly at the doorway, fists clenched, blue eyes locked so intensely on yours that it was like they burned. 
Face flushed a familiar pretty pink that makes you realize that shit, he might be taller, voice deeper, broad shoulders tight against his t-shirt - but this was still the same boy that cried when you stole his favorite Digimon card in middle school. The same one that kissed you underneath a dingy slide, smelling of strawberry lollipops.
It’s the steady tap! tap! tap! of the water droplets from his hair that have you tearing your traitorous eyes from his see-through white t-shirt.
Guess you’ve both done some growing up since then.
“You loser.”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
The pink wrapping of the bouquet rustles as your grip tightens. “He proposed to me today, y’know.” and yet, your quiet, even voice was the only thing ringing in Satoru’s ears. He jolts, as if some visceral, primal part of himself had been poked awake. Breathing heavy, fists clenching until he could feel the neat indents of his fingernails on his palm. Of course. He’s late. He’s late he’s late he’s late-
That is, until you’re plowing on, “I said no.”
“Huh?”
You think back to the stuffy restaurant, the man sitting from across from you - how wrong it felt. And all it took were those four words for you to realize that. “I said no.” 
Satoru snaps his head up, stepping close - so close. Voice strained like he wasn’t asking - begging. Praying, “Why?”
“We…” you raise a brow at the way Satoru flinches as you trail off. So desperate. A smirk makes its way onto your face, “...we haven’t divorced yet, right?”
And then you’re kissing him - or maybe he’s kissing you. 
Fuck, you don’t know - nor do you really care right now. Not when Satoru’s got his lips crashing against yours for the fifth time in your life, kissing you like it would be the last. Big arms dipping down to your waist, pulling you so tight against his muscled frame that he had half the mind to wonder whether it hurt. 
“Love this. Love the way you kiss me- fuck-” he’s spitting against your lips, kicking the door shut behind him. “Oh- would ya get mad if I-” he tries to get out through kisses. Only to suck on your pretty lips with a pained grunt. “If I-” Again and again, like it killed him to part. “-hah- celebrated right now?”
“Yes.” You’re letting the bouquet fall to the foor, white-knuckling that useless, drenched excuse of a shirt. “Now kiss me properly, Toru.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Such a sloppy mix of teeth and hands and him. Shoving a knee between your legs, making up for years and years of late nights with nothing but his fist and the pretty thought of you. 
“Yeah, that’s it, sweetheart.” Satoru breathes out, as your urgent fingers that dispose of his shirt, feeling the gorgeous dips and curves of years of hard work to impress you. “Suck on m’tongue pretty- fuck-” His own fisting your shirt, pulling. Ripping.
“Toru!”
“I want you.” He’s letting the poor, tattered pieces drop in a pile on the floor, trailing a hand between your damp thighs before he can stop himself. “Oh how I’ve wanted you. And I don’t care if I have to buy fifty new outfits to make up for it.”
And it’s the feeling of his long index stroking up your sopping slit through your shorts that has you pulling away with a gasp. Delicate little strings of saliva snapping from Satoru’s kiss-bitten lips. “If we continue like this…” your voice wavers as he presses hot kisses along your collarbone. “-my brother’s gonna walk in.”
“...wouldn’t wanna relive that playground kiss, huh?”
It’s all he says before picking you up so easily, hands resting on your ass. Giving a playful spank ass you wrap your legs around his toned waist. 
And it’s sloppy.
Both his lips still hotly on yours and the way he’s stumbling urgently to your room through pure muscle memory. Pulling away only when you’re all splayed out so prettily for him on your mattress.
“Blue?” he breathes, pulling your shorts off. And it comes out strained - like the very sight of your panties - all soaked and flimsy with your slick - has whatever’s remaining of Satoru’s sanity flying out the window. “Blue? Oh, you’ve gotta have planned this, you little minx.” his hot breath hits your cunt as he shifts down the bed, tongue drawing languid, wet little circles on your inner thigh. “Because don’t tell me this was all for him?”
It was coincidence - or maybe fate - but that doesn’t stop you from giving Satoru a slow, teasing nod. Muttering out, “So what if it was?”
The only answer you get is thumb hooked around your shorts, pulling it just enough so that your brother’s best friend can spy your pretty pussy.
“Well then.” he chuckles at the way you jump when his fingertip just barely grazes your clit. “Guess I jus’ hafta prove m’better.”
A low groan is falling from his lips as soon as they meet your puffy ones, giving your pretty clit a chaste peck. Lingering long enough that he’s sure your sweet sweet juices cover his mouth.
And oh Satoru’s sure he’ll never forget the way your jaw falls slack, glassy eyes following his every move as he runs his tongue along his glossy lips. Savoring your candied taste, “Never kissed you like this before, huh?” 
Fuck, you’re sweeter than he’s imagined.
You whine desperately, something that has him smirking smugly, “Hah, what? Cat got your tongue?”
“You’re better when you shut up.” It’s all you can do to buck your hips into Satoru’s pretty face - not that you had to, because one taste of your dripping cunt and he was addicted. Surging forwards until he was nose-deep, locking your ankles around his head with a firm yank.
And you can’t lie - maybe you’ve imagined this exact scene a few times before on those lonely nights. But you just never expected Satoru to be so depraved. Desperate.
“Ngh- fuck, Toru-” you reach a hand down to thread your fingers through his hair, tugging his face up. But Satoru doesn’t stop - not even for a second. Tongue still dipping to spread your swollen folds with his tongue, looking you right in the eyes as he murmurs a strangled, “Mhm?” 
“Thought you were gonna prove you’re better, hm?”
So goading. So like you. 
At this, Satoru pulls back ever-so-slightly to laugh - laugh. His plump, glistening lips curling into a humorless little grin, “Oh I will.” Thumb circling your throbbing clit. Just dragging your twitching body across the silky sheets close to his, one hand pinning your hips down. Hard. “I will.”
Loving his new favorite place between your legs one hand toys with your clit, quick, messy little patterns. Tongue even more so. 
“Not just better.” he grunts, “Gonna make you cum so much harder, too.” Having your thighs shake with each word hissed out into your cunt, each turn of his deft fingers. “Till I’m the only thing on your mind. Me.”
And it’s all you can do to let out choked up groans of his name, back arching off the plush mattress to let him make out with your cunt deeper. Sloppier. So, so starved with the way he’s speeding up, tongue dragging across your walls. In and out in and out in and-
“Fuck! Hngh-” you angle his head - and he lets you. “There- Toru-”
Honestly, you didn’t even have to tell Satoru - he could feel it. Could feel it in the way your plushy walls are squeezing his hot tongue so harsh, until it was almost difficult to fuck your pussy so sloppily. In the way you’re letting out such delicious whines each time he grazes against those sweet spots. 
“There? Hah- I know.” he pulls away to muse, and your cute, disappointed whine goes straight to his already rock-hard cock. “Did he?”
He didn’t. And you’re shaking your head so pathetically - in a way you’d be embarrassed about usually. 
But that’s the last thing you’re thinking bout because you feel it - the cold, sinful feeling of Satoru spitting on your filthy cunt. Once. Twice. Blue eyes widening in delight at the way the mess of spit and slick drip down your slit. 
“Cute.” his tongue smoothes over the slutty pool, and the only thing your delirious brain can make out now is a low moan of, “So? Who’s better?”
It’s all you can do to choke out a broken little, “T-T-” Face burning at the way he was so clearly enjoying your struggle. And, well, no matter painfully hard it made his dick - he had to go just a bit easy on his girl, right?
“Shhhh, s’alright.” you flinch as he shoves two absolutely drenched fingers into your mouth, making so much more of a mess of it than necessary. Drinking in your cute gags, “I was asking her.” He’s making your head spin with the way he’s speeding up. “N’ she’s hah- very talkative.” Words muffled, and slurring together - like he was drunk off of you and your cunt. “Let’s hear what she has to ngh- say, huh?”
And with that, he’s alternating between lapping at your clit and squeezing into your sloppy entrance - like he couldn’t - didn’t - want to make up his mind. Oh, with your teary mewls strangled, the sound of Satoru making out with cunt is so loud. The squelches so obscene. 
“Fuuuuck.” he drawls. “Louder than I thought. I think she says I’m better, don’t you think?” 
You angle your head just right to catch the way his jaw grinds deeper into you, eating you out like his last meal. Your slick drooling down his chin so sinfully. 
“Ngh- fuck fuck fuck- ngh-” your yelps are dreamy, feeling like you were losing your mind with the way he was stretching you out. 
Like you were about to snap. Any second now. 
But Satoru’s only increasing his movements, drawing out your little moans. “And I think she’s saying…”  Getting sloppier. More erratic - and it didn’t matter if his fingers were cramping up now, cock aching with the need to be inside you. “-that she’s about to cum.”
You do - so hard and loud - both you and your cunt. 
You’re shaking, all but gushing all over Satoru’s mouth, tight pussy squeezing his tongue so hard. Barely even realizing the searing grip you’ve got on his hair as you drag your sloppy pussy all over his mouth.
But Satoru doesn’t mind - he gladly welcomes it, in fact. Tonguefucking your snug cunt senselessly, letting you chase your high as roughly as you wanted. Over and over.
Even when you’re vision isn’t as spotty as before, even when nothing’s coming out of your mouth but little whimpers. Your breathing dying down until all that rings in your barely-lucid mind were those obscene noises of Satoru’s lips all on yours. 
“T-Toru-” you whine, big fat tears pricking at your hazy eyes. “M’so sensitive.”
And of course this is Satoru, the same boy who’s been pushing your buttons for years just to giggle at your adorable reactions. Which is why he grins against your twitching cunt, “So?”
It takes everything in you to raise your head off the pillow that just seemed to be swallowing you whole, and even more to shoot Satoru a half-hearted glare. “So m’gonna ngh- assume you’re jus’ a pussy with a s-smaller dick than-”
You don’t get to finish your sentence - he doesn’t let you. Because Satoru’s fumbling with his belt, peeling off those still-drenched pants just enough for you to admire his clothed erection. 
And, shit, admittedly you expected him to have a big dick - having been subjected to way too much locker room talk with your brother - but this was ridiculous. 
“What? Too big?” He flashes you that infuriating grin. Palming his rock-hard cock through his boxers at the way your beautiful eyes trace the outline of his cock, all swollen and big. So intimidatingly big. “Damn, sweetheart, if I knew that this was how I’d get that feisty lil’ mouth of yours to shut up then I’d have done it a lot sooner.” 
And you don’t even know if you’re breathing, the pads of your fingers dancing along his bulge. Tracing those prominent veins. Thumbing that little damp spot at his fat head. “You wouldn’t have.” 
He hisses as your soft hands dip into the hem of his underwear. Voice cracking slightly, “I wouldn’t.”
Then you’re gasping - in sync with Satoru’s low moan - as you finally let him spring free. Thick cock hitting his sculpted abs, red tip smearing precum in a lewd little pool. Weeping and so so angry at the sight of you.
At the heavenly feeling of your thumb teasing under his sensitive slit, “Oh, shit.” 
He’s throwing his head back when you give an experimental pump, all the way from his pretty tip to the tufts fo white at his hilt. Fist gliding all over the thumping veins. Bucking his hips up like such a slut into your touch. 
“O-oh fuck.” he cracks an eye open at the way your hand looked so small compared to his dick, how well you were taking care of him. “Been ngh- dreaming of this since I learned what handjobs were, y’know? Hah- shit- ya gotta stop before I fuckin’ pass out.”
And Satoru thinks he could cum right then and there at the way you’re bringing your soaked index up to your mouth. Batting your lashes as you suck on them with a lewd pop! “From jus’ that?”
“You have no idea.”
That’s all it takes for Satoru to throw your still-quivering thighs over his shoulders, effectively shutting up whatever tease is on the tip of your sharp tongue by kissing your swollen folds with his fat head. Giving it one, long drag. 
Your mouth is sagging open at the slow, torturous teasing. The sheer anticipation that had your mouth running, “S-so much for ah- jus’ being ‘friends’, huh?”
“Oh, sweetheart.” And you’re flinching from Satoru’s deep, dark tone. The way he’s bracing his fingers so bruisingly on your hips, reeling all the way back till his tip was just kissing your hole. “We stopped being friends the day you married me on that playground.” 
And then he’s slamming in - pushing past that first, feeble ring of resistance, gummy walls stretching out so perfectly for him. As if he fit right in - and he tells you that. Pants it into your open mouth a little over fifteen times, in fact. 
“Shiiiit, look at you.” he can’t tear his eyes away from the side of your lips stretching so wide to try and milk him. Sloppy entrance stretching out like magic. “S’like you’re made for me, huh? This pussy is made f’me?”
“Ngh- fuck, Toru! S’too big-” you keen, feet flattening on the mattress. As if to escape. To maybe fucking breathe.  
Not even half-way in yet, but aleady torn between pushing away and sinking yourself down on his swollen cock for more more more-
“Don’t you dare run away.” he warns, looking up at you through his long lashes. “I’ve waited too long for this. N’ you’re not taking this pretty pussy away any time soon.” Inch by fucking inch. Grinding in short, sharps jabs - no rhythm of rhyme, like they were genuinely out of control. “Way too f-fuckin’-” All the way until your puffy folds was meeting his hilt. Finally. All the way in. “-long.”
And once Satoru had you split apart on his dick - had those tears rolling down your cheeks, cunt swallowing him so sluttily - it’s like something snaps. 
Because he doesn’t waste a second - he’s already wasted almost two decades, anyway - filling you up with his mean hips. Not fucking easing you into it because you always did bring out that part of him, the part that him looping two strong arms around your waist. Pulling. 
“Oh- f-fuck c’mere.” Satoru gasps, pressing your body so crushingly against his. Kissing your shaky shoulers, your sweaty forehead, the gentleness so contrasting to his hips.“God I’ve missed out- fuck fuck fuck-” 
You’ve never seen the great Gojo Satoru - campus sex symbol - so uncomposed. Eyes half-lidded, just boring into yours, mouth slack in a soft oh! as he drags his cock all over inside your gummy walls. And the sight is so heavenly that you make the mistake the mistake of cracking a minute smile.
Just barely curling your lips before - “Don’t smile at me like that.” He’s dipping down a hand to roll your ravaged clit between two bullying fingers. “Fuck, she’s gonna be the death of me. Right?”
You keen at the- stimulation? The strech? The sheer embarrassment as you realize that Satou’s still talking to your sloppy pussy? Nodding so mockingly up at you as he plows on, “Mhm, she says you needa be ngh- knocked down a god, you’re tight- peg or two. So- get- ready-” 
He’s using this as an excuse to sit up on his knees, dragging you onto his lap so easily like some ragdoll. 
“That’s more like it.”
You’re sliding deeper down his painfully hard cock - all the way till his heavy balls rest beneath your ass, clit rubbing against his pelvis every time he bounces you like some slut.  
Deep. Ruthless.
“Keep your eyes open, sweetheart.” He chuckles, and you’re screwing open your eyes that you don’t even remember shutting. Trying so hard to stop crying out at the feeling of the curve of his dick massaging your walls. “Ya gotta hngh- see the o-only one who’d fuckin’ you properly, right?”
You squeal when he’s taking your clit captive once more. Finger quick, deft. “Y-yes.”
But that wasn’t enough for Satoru - it might as well never be. Because he’s only ramming his hips up further. Like he’s pushing into your stomach, your lungs, all the way into your cockdrunk brain. Fat head alternating between kissing your poor, abused cervix and all those sweet spots he’d mapped out with his tongue.
“Sounded unsure to me.” he’s pouty against your hardened nipples bouncing enticingly in his face. Fingers quirking faster on your clit, “Maybe I should ngh- stop then?”
“No!” Your hips stutter against Satoru’s. Nails clawing down the sculpted panes of his shoulders, leaving red angry marks for him to take as a sign tomorrow morning that no, it wasn’t just one of his dreams this time. “No no no- m’sure. You’re the only one makin’ me feel this way.”
You can feel the way he’s twitching wildly at your words, dick thumping harder inside your sensitive cunt. 
He punctures each word with a heavy, calculated thrust. Hand stretching and squeezing open your cunt from behind to let him slide impossibly deeper. “Hmmm, I’m not convinced.” 
Your stupid mouth is only capable of letting out broken, choked-up little moans of his name, ankles locking around those dimples at the end of his spine. “S’you–”
“Still not convinced.”
But he’s still speeding up his movements, just dragging you up and down his cock. “Who else made you hah- feel this good?” Sure to claim you from the inside out - to leave marks everywhere. Heavy balls on your ass, weeping tip on your cervix, lips bruised as you whimper at his murmured, “That ex of yours?” Biting down your neck, “That barista that always flirts with you?” Pulling away only to breathe into your lips, “Who?”
“ I- fuck it’s only you, Toru.”
“Sound convincing to you?” Satoru hums down at your cunt, biting his lower lip at the way you were milking him so good. Your slick soaking him all the way down to his balls - so needy in a way he never thought he’d see. “Yeah-” be breathes, nosing at your neck. “She agrees- fuck does this tight lil’ pussy of yours agree.” A few tears, a few gorgeous marks down his back, and he was finally convinced. “You’re mine.”
You don’t even realize it when you’re cumming, and Satoru doesn’t either.
Both of you too caught up in each other to recognize that familiar, white-hot pleasure running down your spine - all the way down to where he was so mercilessly buried in your cunt.  
And you’re well into the blood roaring deafeningly in your ears, the sight of Satoru - all wrecked - blurring as he fucks his hips up. Harsh. Eyes rolling to the back of his head as he paints your quivering walls white. 
Cumming and cumming so hard that you can feel his seed dribbling down your thighs, making such a mess all over Satoru’s lap. Your poor, overfilled cunt soon bloated and unable to keep up with it.
“Toru–” you whine, like a prayer. Milking the fucking soul out of him while he gently paws at your messy hair.
“Shhh, I know I know, sweetheart.” Such a stark contrast to the way he was filling you up like his favorite sex toy. Not even bothering to move anymore, one hand on your hip, moving your limp body up and down his sensitive cock to fuck it deeper. The other still playing with your clit, “S’alright, my girl”
Satoru’s hands never leave you, and he prays that now that he got a taste - well, you better be alright with them not leaving you for as long as he lives.
“As long as you live, huh?” you chuckle groggily, a noise so dreamy that Satoru can’t even be mad that he said it out loud. “And all that riling me up these years. Do you have a degradation kink or something?”
“Well, only one way to find out~”
“Oh shut up you-”
SLAM!
“Yooo, I bought dinner from that- WHAT THE FUCK?”
There were only two more lessons to be learned:
Always lock the door. Always. And in case you don’t, a bouquet of lollipops will do the trick to a Suguru reeling from the newest addition to the family. 
Cheap takeout tastes better with an apologetic Suguru, and an ice pack to his cheek - and you to kiss it better.
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A/N. Can you tell I kept listening to that one Artemas song while writing this?
Plagiarism not authorized.
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corkinavoid · 7 months ago
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DPxDC Shit Fae!Danny Has Said While Living With Waynes
Danny, making a 'got your nose' gesture: Hey Jason, look, I've got your name!
Red Hood, who suddenly can't remember his own name: What the fuck
Bruce, in a tired dad voice: Danny, please, we talked about this, return your brother's name back
Danny: Oh, come on, it's not like he even uses it
Jason, thankfully remembering his name: And I repeat, what the f u c k
Steph, at dinner: I was wondering, what do faeries even eat normally? Like, flowers and stuff?
Danny, his eyes two black voids inside his eyesockets: The souls of the innocent
Steph: So that's a 'no' on the flowers?
Danny, back to normal and shoving a bagel in his mouth: I mean, I can, but would you want to stay on the crumbs-only diet when you are in a 5-star Michelin restaurant?
Tim: It's actually 3-star. Michelin rating system only has three stars, not five.
Dick: Are you saying that people are basically food joints for Fae?
Damian, at Constantine: It would do you well to choose your wording better when speaking to fair folk-
Danny, very much a fair folk, appearing out of thin air in the Cave: Yolo, s'up bitches, guess who's back in town!
Damian: -even when they do not necessarily do so themselves.
Constantine, looking between them: Are you sure you're the human and he is the changeling?
Tim, 46 hours of no sleep: Hey, if you can take a name from someone, does it mean you can take, like, other things that have no real shape or form?
Danny: Names do have shape and form, they even have taste. Yours is like a ping-pong ball made out of really dense cotton candy with banana-caramel flavor.
Tim, losing his touch with reality: Dense banana cotton candy...
Danny: By the way, I know you wanted to ask me if I could take your need to sleep from you, and theoretically, the answer is yes.
Tim, his whisper full of hope: ...will you?..
Danny: No. Either go to sleep or keep suffering. I'm not here to make your life easier.
Danny, after a half-an-hour rant on the Fae customs and traditions: -and Fae never tell the truth, but also never lie. It's a work of art, you know, say what you want but never in a way that makes sense.
Jason: So Fae just like to fuck with people.
Danny, looking him in the eyes, smiling and winking: Sure, humans are very fuckable.
Bruce, trying very hard not to pay attention to this: Can you make an example?
Danny: Sure. I lied.
Bruce: Where?
Danny: :)
Bruce, feeling like he is about to lose his mind: W h e r e ?
Alfred, right after he heard Dick's muffled screaming in the hallway: Young Master Danny, would you mind returning Master Dick his ability to talk in coherent sentences?
Danny, obediently standing up and walking out of the library: ...okay.
Bruce: How come he always listens to you?
Alfred: He knows what I will do if he doesn't.
Danny, returning to the library: He will change all the silverware to iron-ware. As well as the doorknobs and hairbrushes and lightswitches and everything else.
Alfred: Did you fix Master Dick's shoes?
Danny: I did. But I still think that making all of his shoes left ones was funny.
Alfred: Indeed, it was.
| <-prev | next-> |
There's also a fic now.
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kendyzzlewp · 7 months ago
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Hard Work, Pays Off || ART DONALDSON
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art donaldson x fem!reader
summary: after months and months of trying, it finally happens
tags: married life, husband!art x wife!reader, mentions of sex, exhaustion, tw: throwing up, pregnancy, pregnancy announcement, fluff
____________________________________________
Art Donaldson was exhausted.
He had never been so sexed out in his life. Trying to have a baby was harder than people had realized. Don’t get him wrong, it was very enjoyable, but the lack of sleep was not it.
It seemed like you were craving it. All day, every day. Waking him up in the middle of the night, lips on his neck, hand on his dick. In the shower, in the kitchen, in the car, hell, you almost got kicked out of a restaurant because you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself.
Art did his best to please you, bending you over wherever possible—pounding into you until you were a trembling mess below him.
He let out a yawn, his hand rubbing his tired blue eyes. His publicist rambled on about the latest endorsement deal, and he was trying to pay attention. It’s just that his voice was soothing, and the room temperature was hitting just right. If he closed his eyes for just a second…
“Art!”
That jolted him awake, almost spilling his to-go cup of coffee all over the table. He blinked rapidly, trying to focus on the stern face of his publicist, Mark.
“Sorry,” Art mumbled, straightening in his seat.
Mark sighed, shaking his head. “You’ve got to keep it together, dude. This deal is important. Nike doesn’t just hand out endorsement deals like candy.”
“I know, I know,” Art said, taking a deep breath and forcing himself to concentrate. “Just send me the details. I have to go.”
He stood up, grabbing his keys. Mark looked like he wanted to argue, but he just nodded, exasperated. Art didn’t wait for a response and headed out the door, eager to get home.
When he opened the door to the house, the sight of you asleep on the couch greeted him. You looked so peaceful, sprawled out with a light blanket covering you. Art’s heart softened as he watched you for a moment, your chest rising and falling with each breath; despite his day's exhaustion and chaos, seeing you like this made everything worth it.
He crept, trying not to wake you, as he set his keys down and shrugged off his jacket. He tiptoed over to you, crouching down to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. You stirred slightly, your eyes fluttering open.
“Hey,” you murmured, a sleepy smile forming.
“Hey,” Art replied softly. “Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.”
“It’s okay,” you said, stretching. “How was your meeting?”
“Long and boring,” he admitted, chuckling. “But it’s over now. How are you feeling?”
You sighed contentedly. “Tired.”
Art smiled, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Why don’t we both take a nap? We could use the rest.
You nodded, shifting to make space for him on the couch. Art lay beside you, wrapping his arms around you as you settled in. The warmth and comfort of having you close began to soothe his tired mind.
—-
Weeks passed, and you still wanted Art every second of every day. It wasn’t even the fact that you both wanted to get pregnant; it was that he looked so good all the damn time. Every glance, every touch, every whisper had you pouncing on him.
This day, however, you woke up feeling off.
The smell of pancakes wafted in from the kitchen, making your stomach uncomfortable. The feeling of nausea danced around in your throat the moment your bare feet touched the cold floor.
As the bile started to creep up, you muttered a curse under your breath. With a hand clasped over your mouth, you darted to your ensuite bathroom, barely reaching the toilet in time. Nausea washed over you in waves as you knelt on the cold tile floor, your stomach heaving uncontrollably.
Retching echoed in the small room, each heave sending a surge of discomfort through your body. Tears welled up in your eyes as you struggled to catch your breath, the taste of bile lingering on your tongue.
Through the haze of nausea, you heard the sound of hurried footsteps approaching and then Art's concerned voice calling your name.
"Babe, are you okay?" he asked, kneeling beside you and gently touching your back.
You shook your head weakly, unable to form words as another wave of nausea washed over you. Art's hand rubbed soothing circles on your back as you clung to the toilet, feeling utterly drained and miserable.
After what felt like an eternity, the nausea began to subside, leaving you feeling shaky and exhausted. You leaned against the wall, closing your eyes as you tried to steady your breathing.
Art stayed by your side, offering you a glass of water and a damp washcloth to wipe your face. His concern was evident in his eyes as he watched over you, and you felt a surge of gratitude for his presence.
"Thank you," you whispered hoarsely, taking a sip of water and leaning into his comforting embrace.
He kissed the top of your head, his voice soft and reassuring. "What happened? Was it something you ate?
You shrugged weakly, still feeling too queasy to speak. Art's hand rubbed your back soothingly as you tried to collect yourself.
"It's possible," you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not sure. I just woke up feeling off."
Art nodded, his brow furrowed with concern. "Do you think you need to see a doctor?"
You hesitated, not wanting to overreact. "I'll see how I feel after a little while. Maybe it's just a stomach bug."
Art nodded again, understanding. He helped you up from the bathroom floor and guided you back to bed, tucking you in gently. You knew deep down that this wasn't a damn stomach bug. Still, you didn't want to get your hopes up after months of trying and facing the same disappointment each time.
"Try to get some rest," he said softly, brushing a stray hair from your face. "I’ll make you some toast.”
The mention of food sent you running to the bathroom again. This was not a stomach bug.
———-
As Art finished packing his tennis bag, his mind ran in circles. You hadn't stopped throwing up in days, only finding respite when you were asleep. The mere mention of anything edible sent you into a spiral that seemed to last for hours.
He was worried. He had to leave town for a stupid challenger that Tashi had signed him up for. Looking at your state, he didn't want to go, but the US Open was approaching. He needed the tournament to qualify.
Art sighed, running a hand through his hair as he glanced back at you, curled up on the couch, looking pale and exhausted. He hated to leave you like this, but his career was on the line.
"Hey," he said softly, kneeling beside you and taking your hand. "Say the word, and I’ll stay.”
You looked up at him, your eyes filled with fatigue and uncertainty. "You have to go," you whispered hoarsely.
"I know," he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "I don't want to leave you like this."
"But you have to," you insisted, squeezing his hand weakly. "You’ve worked so hard this season, don’t mess it up because of me. I'll be fine. I promise."
Art searched your eyes momentarily, finding the determination and strength he loved about you. He stood up with a heavy heart, leaning down to kiss your forehead gently.
"I'll call you every chance I get," he promised. "And I'll be back before you know it. Take care of yourself, okay?"
You nodded, offering him a weak smile as he grabbed his bag and headed for the door. Watching him go, you felt a mix of sadness at being alone and pride in his dedication to his career.
As the door closed behind him, you waited a few minutes before jumping from the couch. You went into your shared bathroom, hands shaking in anticipation as you grabbed the pregnancy test from the bathroom cabinet.
This is it. All the signs were there.
Throwing up? Check.
Sore nipples? Check.
Late period? Check.
Horny 24/7? Check.
You took a deep breath, trying to steady your shaking hands as you unwrapped the pregnancy test. Your mind raced with emotions—hope, fear, excitement, and uncertainty. You knew deep down that this could be the moment you had been waiting for.
After following the instructions, you waited anxiously for the results. The minutes felt like hours as you stared at the test, willing to show the desired answer.
Finally, the moment of truth arrived. You looked down at the test, your heart pounding in your chest. And there it was, clear as day—two pink lines.
Tears welled up in your eyes as you sank to the floor, overwhelmed with emotion. You were going to have a baby. All the nausea, exhaustion, and uncertainty suddenly made sense. It was all worth it.
Now, the fun part.
——
Art was crushing the tournament.
Barreling through to the finals easily, finishing every match with such an advantage that it was almost embarrassing for the other players.
As you watched Art prepare for the final match, a sense of pride swelled within you. He had worked hard to get to this point, and his performance throughout the tournament was impressive.
You couldn't help but smile as you thought about the news you would share with him. The thought of seeing his reaction filled you with excitement and joy. Quickly closing the door, you sat with the rest of the audience, eager to know the outcome.
As Art stepped onto the court for the final match, you took a deep breath, knowing that win or lose, this moment would be one to remember.
The match was intense, with both players giving it their all. Art's determination and skill were evident as he moved across the court, his focus unwavering.
In the end, Art emerged victorious, the crowd erupting into cheers as he raised his arms triumphantly.
As Art basked in the crowd's cheers, his eyes locked onto yours, a grin breaking through his focused demeanor. His expression softened with surprise and relief as he saw you in the finals despite how horrible you felt.
This was your moment.
With a steady hand, you reached into your purse, pulling out the newborn-sized onesie you had been carrying. "Way to go, Dad!" were scribbled in bold letters on the white material, a message of celebration and love.
As Art approached you, his victorious aura shining bright, you held out the onesie with a smile, your heart pounding excitedly.
"Congratulations, Dad," you said, your voice filled with pride and joy.
Art's eyes widened with surprise as he took the onesie from you, his expression shifting from disbelief to pure joy. A wide grin spread across his face as he looked down at the tiny garment in his hands, the realization sinking in.
"You're pregnant?" he exclaimed, his voice filled with emotion.
You nodded, tears of happiness welling up in your eyes. "Yes, we're having a baby."
Art pulled you into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around you as he held you close.” I love you," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "I love you so much.”
As the crowd continued to cheer around you, you held onto Art tightly, feeling the warmth of his love and the promise of a new beginning. In that moment, surrounded by the echoes of victory and the anticipation of new life, you knew your future together was brighter than ever.
Hard work does pay off.
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jesuistrestriste · 2 months ago
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cw (18+): sub!art, afab + femme!character, age gap, crying/dacryphilia, art being a sad and lonely hot guy in his forties, tashi and art never really got together, creampie
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dilf!art getting with a pretty young thing from down the block. . .
he always admired her effortless confidence and the way her body moved when she walked down the street to the corner store every weekend.
always watched her return from his brownstone apartment window; a pack of cinnamon gum and a case of peach seltzer in her hands.
she’s beautiful and bouncy and everything he didn’t get to have in his youth when he was too sucked into tennis to let himself live a little. he lost tashi to patrick. that was that. and he never tried dating again until about ten or so years ago.
they were all flings that crashed and burned their way through his thirties. meaningless moments where all he was left with was a wet dick and a heaviness in his chest. he hated it. he was done with it.
until her.
she was different.
she sparked a conversation with him one day when they ran into each other outside his doorstep. she was cracking jokes that only made her seem more intriguing because art didn’t understand the social context behind them— he was no longer hip and cool, he’d accepted it. but that, combined with the pop of her hip she did when she was making him laugh (not to mention the way she smacked her gum + batted her lashes when she smiled; all pearly whites) made him feel like even more of a creep.
but now she’s bouncing on his cock and gazing down at him while he gasps and squirms like a livewire underneath her.
they’ve only really known each other for a week and a half.
“say thank you, Artie,” she purrs, her hand tracing the spattered flush on his chest, “say it.”
he bucks his hips up as much as he can to meet her movements, and bites his lip hard enough to taste metal when his tip bumps her cervix.
“thank you, oh my god, thank you— thank you, thank you—! ha-aah-!”
he babbles; a broken record of whines and shaky moans. his throat hurts from all of the sounds being pulled from him when the most he’s talked all month has come from just a couple of boring, remote interviews about his athletic career.
and her, of course.
god, it’s all her..
he swallows and keens, and then his eyes are watering.
and then he’s sobbing. he’s choking on his tears and yet he’s still feeling the tight coil of warmth tense further and further and further-
“don’t cry,” she whispers, leaning down to kiss the wetness from his cheeks, her hips swiveling to ride him harder just as the first slimy blurt of his orgasm spills inside, “you’re a good boy, okay? you’re perfect… a total catch…”
she smells like candy. she’s wiping his tears now.
“oh fuck, thank you-uu—hnghh!”
art lifts his hips, his face crumpling with pleasure and sadness, before he yelps and his climax wipes him out. his whole body trembles as he feels his cock pulse and coat her pussy with gooey clots of his spend. he’s practically wheezing.
he grips onto her hips fiercely; like if he doesn’t squeeze hard enough she’ll just go *poof*, and then he’ll be alone again.
“.. ungh, ‘m sorry, im cumming inside you, im cumming, im so sorry,” he whimpers, the aftershocks leaving him feeling bare and weak. stripped of all of his armor. if he even had any left to begin with.
she kisses his shoulder gently, and then she’s dipping her glossy lips down to whisper right next to his ear. her dainty necklace chills his skin when it dangles from her body and meets his collarbone. she’s so close to him.
“don’t worry, Mr. Donaldson…
you’ll be a great daddy.”
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osachiyo · 11 months ago
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EAT IT LIKE YOU MEAN IT ! ✘ 𝐝𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐢, 𝐜𝐡𝐮𝐮𝐲𝐚, 𝐣𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐨 & 𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐩𝐨
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𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 — n/sfw content, headcanons + rating, female reader, cunnilingus, cum eating, squirting, pussy slapping, face-sitting, praise, overstimulation, etc
𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — i wrote this while being sick, so don't attack me if this has a lot of spelling mistakes and errors.. and i just wanted to write some silly little headcanons so my apologies if this isn't good lol happy reading as always and i hope you enjoy :3 (yes i did remove fedya from this sorry) NOT PROOFREAD
𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 — bsd men and how they eat the 😼
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𝓓𝓪𝔃𝓪𝓲
this man is a MUNCHERRRR. will gladly eat you out any day of the week, any time of the day. he does not care if you're at work — will not hesitate drag you in a storage room of the agency and eat you out there. one time ranpo walked in on dazai giving you the most toe-curling head, and used that as blackmail on you two, demanding he'll keep quiet if you bought him candy for the rest of the week. safe to say that you put a ban on sex at work for a month (spoiler alert: you didn't last).
sit. on. his. face. make a mess on it — drench his face in your juices and he'll thank you. hell, even better if you ride it — he'll cum untouched so fast.
he's skilled in the art of eating pussy — knows all of your weak spots like the back of his hand. don't ask him how many times he's done this — he'll just flash you an innocent looking smile, never actually answering your question.
knows how to make you scream and takes advantage of that — urging you to cum over and over on his silver tongue, saying "just gimme one more, darling," only for it to turn into another, and another until you lose count.
he takes his time when giving you head — tongue tracing your hole all the way up to your clit, savouring the taste of your arousal before he devours you.
KEEPS EYE CONTACT !! works his mouth on your cunt while his big, warm, brown eyes filled with mirth stares at you the entire time, smirking at the beautiful expressions you make — loving how flustered you get from his gaze alone.
likes to use his fingers while eating you out — long digits probing at the rough patch of your g-spot while he sucks on your clit — a deadly combo that has you creaming in his mouth in seconds.
overall a 10/10, knows how to use his tongue and isn't afraid of using it.
𝓒𝓱𝓾𝓾𝔂𝓪
messy eater !! is not afraid of getting filthy, if he's gonna go down on you, might as well do it properly.
he's really into 69 ! not because he gets pleasured as well (though he's definitely not gonna complain about it), it's more of a physiological thing for him. it gets him so impossibly hard when you slobber and struggle to take his cock down your throat just because of the sheer pleasure he's giving you. it's adorable to see, really. also gives him an excuse to shove his cock down your throat himself, groaning something about "him doing all the work," but he wouldn't have it any other way.
as much as he loves pinning you to the bed, holding your hips down while shoving his face between your legs — he'd much rather eat it from the back. what can he say? he loves your ass — spreading it apart to bury his tongue into your hole, occasionally slapping or pinching your cheeks to tease you — it's pure filth.
he knows your limits, of course, but sometimes he can't help but go a little overboard — too lost in the feeling of lapping up your sweetness, circling your clit before dipping his tongue into your hole. it's best not to interrupt him during this — unless you actually want to stop, he's gonna pin you down harder with a low growl before getting back to his meal.
he doesn't use his fingers that often while eating you out — would much rather make you release on his tongue, but wouldn't mind indulging you if you really wanted it. gloved fingers probing at your sweet spot — groaning out praises for being so good for him.
he's a talker !! growling, muttering and even moaning words of encouragement while he eats your pussy — the vibrations of his lust-filled voice making your toes curl and head lull back.
9/10, he's less about technique and more about instinct — and it works.
𝓙𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓸
he's a sadist through and through — very into edging you. likes to hear your heartbeat speed up then suddenly drop when he pulls his face away from your cunt, laughing at your misery like it's the funniest thing in the world. don't get him wrong though — he eventually does let you cum, eventually.
when he's not edging you, he's overstimulating you. sometimes he does it right after edging you, too — didn't you want to cum? he's giving you what you wanted this whole time, you should thank him for it, really.
not afraid of using toys on you during he goes down on you — he loves hearing your desperate whines and and attempts of forcing him away because "it's too much," what nonsense — he thinks, jouno knows your limits, he knows you can take it. now be a good girl for him and let him enjoy his meal.
100% a pussy slapper — he likes hearing you squeal his name, while your neighbors definitely hate you both for that. he's so mean about it too, spreading your pussy lips apart to land a harsh but swift smack on your clit — it has you tearing up and crying out his name so cutely, he can't help but do it again, again and again.
jouno knows exactly which spots make you writhe in pleasure, and he takes advantage of that — relentlessly pounding his fingers into your g-spot while suckling on your clit, it has you seeing stars in mere moments.
did i mention he can make you squirt? he's incredible with his hands and mouth — combine that with the fact that he knows all of your weak spots, it's a killer combination. even if you're not a squirter, he still gives you the best orgasms you've had in your life.
8/10, he knows your limits and knows when to stop — but sometimes he can be a little too… sadistic.
𝓡𝓪𝓷𝓹𝓸
another munch right here — he'll eat you out anytime he wants, and when you want him to, of course !
ranpo gets super whiney while going down on you, his face would be flushed down to his neck — muffled moans of your name escaping his glossy lips, it's an adorable sight.
his glasses would be all fogged up, please take them off for him so they don't get dirty (he'll be whiney after if you don't)
ranpo has 0 experience, might need you to teach him some of the basics at first but he's a quick learner, quickly figures out and memorises which spots make you moan louder and your cunt wetter.
he doesn't care that much about technique, relies on feeling instead.
he doesn't like using his fingers, would rather pleasure you simply with his tongue — but he might cave in if you whined for long enough.
LOVES having you sit on his face — he needs to be drowned in your essence, and what better way to do that than have you ride his face? use him to get off, he might whine and kick his feet at first but he'll give in eventually !
sucks on your clit like it's his favorite candy — at least that's what he tells you. could spend hours and hours between your legs if you'd let him, sucking at licking at your clit before dipping his tongue in your hole, he might like it even better than candy, actually.
7/10, inexperienced but his enthusiasm makes up for it — really messy too.
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note — if you don't agree with the ratings then that's fine, they can eat you out however you want them to lol.
tags ・ @hopefulpain @inkmooon @constant-existential-terror @nda-approval @mellieellie @seiiushi @lynxxyyy @kentopedia
@sorasushik1 @himebwrries @nopethenope @neviex @fyodorisbbg @stygianoir @saharei @x-lunawrites-x @munnaitorei @emyyy007 @dearhoney-31 @the-foreigner @angoisfine @osaemu @honeycombflowers-blog @yuiiasathesilly @kaithegremlin @squigglewigglewoo @cupidszvlvr @ashthemadwriter-archived @bloobewy @mrs-bakugou @hauntedsol @ask-me-or-not @hanakotateyama @kissesmellow21 @dazaichuuya69 @xxsilverjackalxx @gettinshiggywithit @deaths-presence @sugaredpersimmon @rjssierjrie @iheartpieck @angelof-darkness @dazaisimpletmereadfanficspls @hellokitty-4-lele @scinclaitnoir @aly-insanity @kemis-world @bisexuawolfsalt @thateldribitch
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chososcutie · 28 days ago
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“His Advent Calender !”
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KINKMAS DECEMBER 7TH
synopsis: when you tease aki by using a naughty advent calendar, with the promise of letting him fuck you raw, what happens next..?
word count: 2.7k
tags: teasing, slight edging, unprotected sex, mention of daddy, size difference, spanking, grinding, etc etc
art creds: @ndsoda and @ste
꒰ა ˚₊ ・┈・☃︎ ⟡₊⊹ˎˊ˗・┈・₊˚໒꒱・┈・☃︎ ⟡₊⊹ˎˊ˗・┈
“what’s that, baby?” your clingy boyfriend, aki nuzzles into your neck from behind, hand curling around your waist as he looks at the chunky package in your hands, topped off with a little bow, white ribbons curling.
you smile. “an advent calendar.”
today was december first, the first of twenty-four slots to be opened daily, and the tradition was to usually have a little sweet or trinket awaiting you, but this one was different.
no, rather than having anything like that, it held twenty four days of panties.
lace, thongs, g-strings, boy shorts, mesh, see-throughs, ones with suggestive phrases, any kind imaginable, they were in there.
and you were going to tease him relentlessly with it for the next twenty four days. he really had no idea the amount of trouble he was in for.
he furrows his eyebrows, gruff voice huffing softly in your ear. “hmm, why’s it so big?”
your grin widens as you hold it out to him. “why don’tcha open it and find out?”
he takes it from you gingerly, turning it over in his hands, inspecting it with a sense of curiosity. “the first?”
as you nod, his large palms slide over the smooth, glossed front, before finding the window corresponding to the date, opening the little cardboard flap.
and all he can do is gape, as a green, lacy thong flutters out, bedazzled in silver glimmering rhinestones, and lands on the floor.
immediately his eyes are focused back on you. “did you..”
without waiting, you pick up the pair, and with one swift tug on your baggy, drawstring sweatpants, they fall down, exposing you to him, as you slip them on.
“like ‘em?” you wink, turning around for the full effect, your plump ass on full display for him to ogle at.
“i..” he reaches to squeeze your ass cheek gently, leaning in for more, and you can already see a tent beginning to form in his pants.
“ah ah..” you swat his hand away, turning back to smirk at him gleefully. “you can look but no touching. not until christmas, at least.”
his mouth drops, and his head lolls to the side as he studies you with a look akin to disbelief.
“that’s the challenge! twenty-four days of teasing..” you bounce around happily, much to his displeasure as his hands reach for you again.
“twenty four days of torture..” he muses with a groan, feeling your plush tummy, his hand weakly trying to slide lower, only being stopped as you pull back.
“no touching!” you whine, watching as the bulge in his pants fills with life, straining further against its confines.
this was going to be hard.
。゚•┈꒰ ⋆⁺₊❅. ꒱┈• 。゚┈꒰ ⋆⁺₊❅. ꒱┈• 。゚┈꒰ ⋆⁺₊❅. ꒱┈•
the next day, you get adorably striped boyshorts. the day after, red candy-cane patterned see-through ones. the next, a pretty red ribboned one with a little bow. after that, a cheeky little g-string.
and every day, aki becomes more and more flustered and needy than the previous. almost to the point, he was borderline pathetic.
now, aki was no weak crybaby of a man. he could hunt devils as well as anyone, and his masculinity and leadership abilities left him dominant. most of the time. until it came to you.
after constantly being firm and commanding toward everyone, always on the hunt and ready to attack, you were the first person he ever felt truly comfortable with. around you, he was weak.
and oh was he weak for you right now.
“c’monnn jus’ one taste.” he’s lying on his stomach in between your legs, spreading your thighs apart with his large palms, and staring up at you with big, pleading eyes.
“akiii..” you purr, backing up. “remember the challenge rules..”
he moves back grumpily, his voice slightly gruffer than before. “yeah, what’s the point? there’s not a reward..”
you let out a mock gasp. “oh, did i not tell you?”
his face immediately perks up as he gazes at you like an eager puppy, an imaginary tail wagging behind him. “no, tell me what?”
“if you do manage to last the whole twenty-four days, at the end of december, on christmas your present is… you get to cum inside. raw.”
his mouth dries, cock immediately hardening painfully in his pants, heartbeat thumping erratically. he had never.. come inside you before, or anyone else for that matter. even though you took birth control, you never wanted to risk it, saying it was better to use a condom, and pull out to be safe rather than sorry.
but now. all bets were off. he was getting that reward, whether it took every ounce of strength in his body, which it probably would.
you arch your back slightly as you gaze down at him, swaying your plump ass side to side teasingly. “so.. it’s in your best interest to last.”
he growls, roughly grabbing you and throwing you down on the couch, your squeals filling the air as he lands a sharp, stinging smack! to your left ass cheek. “sweetheart, you need to stop that or i’m not going to be able to last.”
you flip back over with a huff, pouty. “not my fault you don’t have control of yourself..” you say petulantly, as you reach to loop your arms around his neck.
he sighs softly, burying his face into the crook of your neck, breathing in your warm familiar scent. “you’re right..” gently, he begins to place kisses up, lips brushing ticklishly across you.
you giggle softly, opening your legs to him, his eyes immediately drifting downward. “naughty girl..” his deep murmur rumbles in your eye as he leans closer to press a kiss to the side of your jaw.
you let out a small hum of pleasure, and he leans closer to deepen it, his hardness pressing against your leg insistently now, almost throbbing with heated need.
before he can move any closer though, you push him away, closing your legs again, and unable to stop the smug grin that spreads across your face at the flash of feralness in his eyes at being pushed away yet again.
before he can speak however, you turn around and walk away, your curves accentuated by the green pair of cheeky lace boyshorts you had on underneath one of his baggy t-shirts.
“it’s only the sixth, aki.”
. . .
over the next few weeks, aki’s need for you becomes brutal, almost overpowering in its entirety.
he’s always pressed up next to you, his chest to your back, or touching you in some way.
and he’s always hard. always.
so much so that it looks like it hurts, pants always stretched too tight from the massive bulge he’s packing.
occasionally, you’ll stretch or shift next to him, rubbing on his cock slightly, and you’ll feel him stiffen, his breathing almost stopping entirely.
but it was only until christmas eve, when he snapped.
it had happened to be freezing, temperature dropping below thirty degrees, and the heater just wasn’t enough.
you nestle your shivering body beside your warm boyfriend, practically radiating heat in his baggy shirt and sweatpants, arms crossed over his chest as he watched the christmas movie you two had put on to set the mood.
snuggling as close as you can to him, you nose your face into him, clutching tightly as you try to absorb some of his warmth.
“babeee.. it’s so cold.” you whine, pressing closer, as if you were trying to mold yourself to his skin.
he jerks forward ever so slightly, and you can tell that how close you were was beginning to have an effect on him. “yeah, i turned on the heater, it should kick in soon..” his voice is raspy, slightly deep as he tries to maintain a subtle tone.
you nod, snuggling closer and trying to warm yourself up by rubbing along his chest and abdominals.
he groans slightly, trying to nudge you off him, adjusting himself in his manspread form on the couch.
“aki.. hold me..” you protest, immediately jumping into his lap at his reluctance to touch you.
“honey.. don’t..” his head falls back and eyes squeeze shut tightly as you move, getting comfortable, draping yourself atop him, clad in your new, naughtiest underwear yet, a cute little thong with the words, “daddy” stitched on the back and pretty lace up the sides.
to make things worse, you were not wearing a bra underneath your baggy t-shirt, and the tips of your nipples were poking through, brushing against him slightly.
and then, you grind. it’s a very subtle movement, barely noticeable, only perceptible to aki, whose senses were already heightened from being deprived of you for so long. your clothed cunt drags along him as you pretend to fix your hair, before curling back up on his chest, only turning to gaze up at him innocently when he inhales sharply.
but before you can even speak, he has you pinned under him in a blink, ferocious eyes gazing down upon you.
“i.. told.. you.. to stop that!” his weight crushes your chest as he presses on you fully, but before you can get him off of you, his lips come to crash against yours in a messy, uncoordinated kiss.
he’s kissing you with a kind of feral desperation only a starved man can capture, pulling and pushing against your lips, with hands coming to spread your thighs wider, nestling his bulge snugly in between.
you gasp, but are quickly cut off by the forcefulness of his tongue being shoved roughly into your mouth, neediness clear in the way he reaches down to grab your ass, squeezing roughly as a guttural grunt tears out of his throat.
“been teasing me s’long.. where’s y’er smart mouth now?” he groans as his hands slide up, up, up feeling every inch of skin he can reach.
you can only whimper in response as his hands move from groping your ass to your inner thighs, kneading and tracing gently, so close to the heat pooling in between them.
he pulls up your shirt to reveal your bare breasts, quickly licking and sucking on them, eyes closing in bliss as he humps against you.
“aki!” you moan, trying to pull his drooling mouth off your tender breast, nipple perking and hardening in his mouth, as you whine to get him to focus on your throbbing cunt.
his rutting into you turns particularly harsh at your cry of his name, already beginning to shove down his sweatpants as his voice comes out in a rough, gravelly groan. “what time is it?”
you’re so distracted, so lost in pleasure already, it takes you a moment to realize what he said. “h-huh?”
he reaches across you to flip over the clock resting on the coffee table by the couch.
11:59 pm.
christmas eve.
and in front of your very eyes, it flashes, red numbers illuminating you two.
12:00 am.
he turns to you, voice hoarse. "y-you said.."
rolling your eyes, you pull him down on top of you, nose-to-nose. "i know what i said aki, just fuck me, yeah?"
his sweatpants are already around his ankles, hard bulging cock pressed against your plush tummy, trickling precum, and forehead pressed to yours before you can even finish your sentence.
“you don’t know.. hah.. what y’er asking, sweetheart.” he groans out, before pushing his hips into you further, dick nestling into your quickly drenched panties, arousal starting to seep through stickily.
you moan, when he presses his entire face into your heaving breasts, licking sloppily and leaving trails of saliva pooling behind.
“now turn around, and lemme see those cute little panties you’ve been so eager to flaunt in my face, hm?”
you shiver at his voice, obeying as you get on all fours and turn around for him, practically feeling the burn of his eyes on your ass.
“ohh..” he purrs out, as he reads, your face flushing. “daddy huh?”
you squirm slightly, trying to squeeze your thighs together as you feel more slick pooling between you. “akiii..” you whine, swaying side to side, your ass just begging to be spanked.
“i know, baby..” no matter how much he wants to tease and make you beg after taunting him for so long, he’s just as desperate as you, and is already pulling your tiny thong to the side to line himself up, rubbing his thick, bludgeony tip along your sopping folds, both of you moaning in unison.
“you.. hah.. r-ready to feel me raw?” he pants out, already beginning to slide himself inside you.
your back arches, pushing back onto him to take more as you nod and whimper mindlessly.
he grunts, while filling you with more of his thick inches. now, without the condom, you’re able to feel every vein, every ridge, and every pulse. you swear you’re in nirvana with the way your pussy wraps and molds around his girth perfectly.
and he’s going so slow, and though you think he must be teasing you, what’s really happening is he’s already about to cum, from just being in you without a barrier for the first time.
you begin to push your ass back and forth impatiently, your pussy swallowing all of him in greedy little thrusts.
he moans, head tipping back as his hands pull at your hips, guiding you as the rough sound of skin on skin echoes, wet squelching ensuing.
you go faster, unused to the feel of his veiny cock plunging into you raw, and unable to get enough as you whimper and moan at the pleasurable stretch.
“oh.. baby.. s-slow down or m’gonna cum..” he groans from behind, hands weakly gripping onto your waist in an effort to set a more deliberate, steady pace.
you can’t help yourself though, grinding your perky ass back on him over and over again, tits bouncing as you move faster and faster.
aki groans, his whole body shuddering behind you, as he holds on to the last shred of his sanity, dick pulsating deep inside you.
you’ve never felt anything as good as this before, his tip scraping your cervix brutally, and all of his rough inches filling you to the very brim, your pussy stretched obscenely around him.
every throb is magnified and has you seeing more and more stars as the seconds pass. hefty balls smack against your ass, and your eyes roll back from the sheer pleasure of it all.
in fact, you’re so distracted you don’t notice your orgasm creeping closer and closer until it hits you all at once, your entire body seizing and twitching in spasms as your entire vision goes white, coming so hard you would’ve fallen forward if it weren’t for aki’s bruising grip on your hips.
in fact you’re cumming so hard, you don’t realize you’re squirting, until aki’s gasping, staring down at the glistening sheen that pours between your thighs, and coats his cock in your syrupy slick.
his eyes roll back in his head at the sight, and then he’s cumming too, pumping load after load of ribbony white seed, pulsing deep into your walls until you’re so full, you feel like you could burst.
“aki! s’too much..” you moan, legs quivering and eyes watering from the sheer stretch combined with everything he’s pumping you with.
“m’sorry! can’t stop.. ah.. fuck!” aki’s breathy, ragged voice can barely pierce through the haze swirling in your head as spurts continue to forcefully pulse into you, your fluttering cunt betraying you by sucking him further and milking him for every drop eagerly.
he quickly flips you over, burying his face in your neck with his cock starting to shoot blanks, mouthing small kisses along your collarbone.
you squirm underneath him, moaning as your bloated, cum-filled tummy is squished under him.
he notices, and leans back to peer down at your drooling, fucked-out expression.
“poor baby..” he coos, large hands coming down to press on your lower stomach.
instantly, creamy white seeps out of you, oozing and trickling to form a puddle below you, aki’s dilated pupils focusing on you completely as he breathes heavily. “can’t even take me raw after all that talk..”
he chuckles softly, before plunging his cock back all the way inside you again, plush walls cushioning and fitting around him snugly. “guess you’re just gonna hafta learn. because we’re not even close to done yet, sweetheart.”
tagslist (ask to be tagged!): @ghostedwriting @amanoava @fluffyfrog1619 @newnlovesjennie @b0n3s-is-gay @kyoukas-tofuxx @sakui1
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ghostgirl-22 · 19 days ago
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im imagining one of the many times patrick is begging to fuck art he suddenly says something like “just let me put the tip in at least baby” and art isn’t in the right mind to see why he shouldn’t cause theyre grinding against each other and licking into each other’s mouths so it shouldn’t be much different. patrick cums so quickly too
Whoops anon this is gonna be a 2 for 1. I hope you don’t mind <3 But Patrick begging made me think it’s perfect for the holiday challenge too so… here’s Art staying over a few nights during winter break. Post Patrick dragging him to his dad’s office Christmas party where him and his brother dressed up like Santa (for some Christmas themed reason) sorry this is all over the place anon. <3
Deck the halls 🎄💫
Day 15: Begging
CW: 18+ !NSFW!
Pair: Artrick
—-
“I think you’re so pretty,” Patrick whispers, he’s still wearing the santa hat, and coat, drunk on spiked egg nog. His dad doesn’t even celebrate Christmas but his office sure knows how to put on a Christmas party.
“Shut up,” Art says, but he’s smiling his stupid pretty little half smile.
They stole candy canes from the Christmas tree in the lobby of his dad’s office, even though Patrick’s stupid brother said they couldn’t. And thank god, because Art’s still sucking on his. Lips stained red, cheeks all flushed— Patrick meant it when he kept telling him all night he’d make the perfect Santa’s elf. “You just blush so yummy,” He teased relentlessly, “especially after Santa fucks you.” That was when Art pushed him away.
Art’s all risky business right now, nothing on but his dress shirt, boxers and socks. His slacks are draped over the chair in the corner of Patrick’s bedroom. He’d wanted them off since he spilled a bit of egg nog on them and Patrick teased him for the way it stained.
Patrick grabs at Arts tie and he steps closer to where Patrick’s sitting on his bed, stopping between Patrick’s legs as Patrick loosens it.
“Come sit on Santa’s lap,” Patrick says, grinning.
Art rolls his eyes, but he’s so soft about it. “You’re so stupid when you drink. You know that right?”
“Come on, sit on my lap. I’ll give you whatever you want.”
“The perfect backhand,” Art says.
“I’m Santa, not Jesus,” Patrick points out and Art shoves him. Patrick laughs and grabs onto his arm pulling him closer still, takes him by the waist and lifts at his dress shirt. “Come on, lemme fuck you.”
“Don’t do that— they’re right next door,” Art says, pulling the candy cane from his mouth and turning to look at the closed door like Patrick’s brother and his wife are just going to appear in his room out of thin air. When they don’t, he pops it back into his mouth. Patrick keeps touching him. He’s not concerned about how close they are, they’re really boring and Patrick is 100 percent certain they’re probably already asleep.
But he tries to ease Arts nerves anyway. “Please. I promise I’ll be quiet,” Patrick sighs, talking to Art’s pretty waist. Art’s got the perfect little belly button. Patrick presses his lips there and feels Art suck it in as he tangles his fingers into Patrick’s hair.
“What are you doing?” He giggles cause he’s ticklish and he pushes Patrick’s head away for the same reason.
“Trying to fuck you,” Patrick sighs. He gets to his feet and he’s suddenly in Art’s face. Art steps back but Patrick steps closer and pulls the candy cane out of Art’s mouth. He presses his lips there instead. Art opens up for him right away. His kisses are sweet like peppermint. And he’s licking and sucking on Patrick’s tongue as if he tastes like candy too. Patrick settles on the edge of the bed again excited at the way Art’s following him. He crawls onto Patrick’s lap so he can keep kissing. Patrick’s hard. Like cut diamonds hard, he’s been halfway there all night. He’s going insane at Art’s tendency to mindlessly grind against it. He’s imagining thrusting inside him, imagining how Art would feel, how he’d react. Art’s already so sensitive all over. Almost like his body was made for sex, Patrick just wants to test it out.
Patrick lays back on the bed resting on his elbows and he puts the candy in his own mouth watching as Art blinks himself into awareness now that he’s not kissing Patrick’s mouth anymore. Patrick can tell he still wants to grind. His hips aren’t moving fast but he’s still gently rolling them along the bulge in Patrick’s pants.
”Fucking please.” Patrick says, quietly. “All I want for Christmas is just to nut in you just once.”
“You’re so fucking…” Art licks his lips. He’s breathless. Kiss swollen. Flushed. Every time Patrick thinks he couldn’t possibly want him more, he gets prettier.
“I will fucking do anything,” Patrick begs. He says, undoing the buttons on Arts dress shirt.
“Patrick,” Art says matter of factly. “Your brother is next door.”
“And I’ll be so quiet. And if you need to you can moan into my pillow. Please. Pretty please. I wanna fill you up and watch it spill out.”
“You’re disgusting,” Art says softly, but he’s squirming.
“I know, I know I am,” Patrick grins, he bites into the candy cane, finishing it off. “But you like it.”
God the blushing. The way he can’t sit still. Patrick hopes he doesn’t lose it in his fucking pants before he even gets inside or all this begging will be for nothing.
“I um— I don’t think I can— your so— so much, Patrick, ” Art says, suddenly shy.
Patrick can’t help himself. He’s grinning like crazy. “Just tell me it’s too big. Tell me it won’t fit.”
“You’re such a freak, ‘m not sayin that,” Art says, he’s blushing something fierce. “I’m just saying…”
“Fine fuck it… what if it’s just the tip? Lemme put in the tip.”
Art sighs, a little smirk on his lips. “You’re so fucking obsessed.”
“Yeah well fucking look at you, princess. Of course I’m obsessed.” Patrick groans. He’s undone all the buttons on Arts shirt and he’s fixating on Art’s bare chest, his perky pink nipples.
Art rolls his eyes at the “princess” comment and Patrick grabs at either side of his shirt and pulls him into another kiss. It’s only moments before Art’s gasping into his mouth and Patrick’s sure if they keep this up he’s gonna come hard in his pants. He rolls them over so he can get Art on his back. And slowly, he pulls back from the kiss. Art’s following, sitting up on his elbows.
“Can I please? Just the tip, baby, pretty pretty please?” Patrick begs.
Art bites his lip and then nods. Patrick doesn’t waste any time, he tugs at Art’s boxers. Slides them off.
Art falls into a sudden fit of giggles and Patrick can’t help smiling at him. “What?”
“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “It’s your santa hat. I just started thinking about you putting me on the naughty list if I didn’t blow you or something.”
Patrick laughs, he’d forgotten he was wearing it still. He pulls it off his head and gives it to Art. Pulls the coat off and drops it on the floor so he’s only in his t-shirt. “For the record I think you’re just the nicest boy.” Patrick says, looking over his dick. It’s so pretty, flushed purple and so full it’s resting heavy on his tummy. “So so nice.”
“You’re so fucking horny, shut up,” Art whispers and Patrick laughs and undoes his own pants kicking them off. Art’s just watching him. “If you put in more than the tip I’m gonna scream and wake up your brother.” He says quietly as Patrick eases himself out of his boxers. It’s clear he’s getting nervous but the way he says it makes Patrick snicker.
“I’m sure you will.” He says smirking as he rubs his palm over Art’s upper thigh. “I have lube in there, it tastes like cotton candy.” Patrick says, gently. Gesturing to his night stand.
“You fucked someone else in here?” Art asks, curiously.
“My summer time girlfriend. But I bought it for you cause your so fucking special.”
“Cotton candy?” Art makes a face.
“Shut the fuck up and get it.”
Art rolls over and pulls open the drawer, digging around. Patrick’s fixating on his ass. He rubs it gently. Almost climbs on top of him and pushes the head in right then and there. There’s so many things he wants to do to this ass. He’s seen Art’s bare bottom quite a few times when they were in school together, Art coming out of the shower. Patrick acting like he’s fine and then sneaking into the bathroom afterwards to touch himself.
“You have a lot of weed,” Art says as he pulls out a bottle from his night stand and inspects it. Same little unimpressed look on his face.
“Taste it,” Patrick says.
“Ew,” Art says.
“Fine give it,” Patrick says and snatches it away from him. He pulls one of Art’s legs up onto his shoulder to get him closer and Art does the same with his other leg. He’s just got on socks and the open dress shirt. Patrick wants him so bad. He wants him so fucking bad. Wants to be balls fucking deep in him for hours. At least an hour. Just wants to fuck him like crazy till he’s falling apart on his dick.
He coats himself in lube. Art’s holding his breath, there’s a wet spot on his tummy from where his dick is leaking. Patrick lines himself up and Art’s inhaling as Patrick presses up against his hole.
Fuck. He’s not sure if he’s gonna be able to fucking do this. Art’s so feverishly warm and virgin tight. Patrick’s struggling just to get the head in.
“Fuck,” Patrick breathes. “Oh fuck, you’ve never even put your fingers in here, have you? Holy shit.”
“W-why would I d-do that?” Art whines, pitched too high and too soft. Squirming beneath him. Patrick shivers.
“Fuck me, I’m gonna fucking lose it.” Patrick says breathlessly as he slowly, so achingly slowly, feels Art’s body open up around the head of his dick.
Art is making these little whiny noises, each sound going straight to Patrick’s dick. He can’t sit still, he’s wiggling like crazy and it’s barely… fucking… in.
“Holy shit,” Patrick gasps, he’s throbbing, aching. He strokes himself twice and he’s halfway fucking done.
“Oh my… fuck… oh Patrick it feels so….mm weird,” Art whines. And it’s too fucking much. Patrick pushes just a little more in… thinks he might just start fucking him… but it’s pointeless because just that little bit of movement combined with Art’s whining and wiggling and Patrick is suddenly gasping through one of the most intense orgasms he’s ever had.
“Fuck,” Patrick gasps breathlessly as he slips out, all his spend leaking out just after. “Goddamnit,” he groans. He’s literally never come that fucking fast in his life.
”Mm,” Art giggles. “I kinda like the tip.”
“Fuck,” Patrick sighs again, running his fingers tips along Arts legs. “You did that to me. You make me fucking insane.”
”I didn’t do anything,” Art says, grinning. “And you didn’t either.” He adds. He’s such a fucking brat.
Patrick adjusts Art’s legs so they’re on either side of Patrick’s waist and he leans over, buries his head against Art’s neck and shoulder, placing little kisses there. All while grabbing onto his dick. Art starts moaning right away as Patrick jerks him. He lasts longer than Patrick but not that much more before Patrick feels the wet hot spurt of liquid spilling between their bodies.
Patrick collapses on top of him when Arts finished. Feels him trying to catch his breath. He curls his fingers into Patrick’s hair and Patrick kisses at his throat, finishing a hickey he’d started.
“Next time I’m just gonna fuck you,” Patrick breathes against his throat.
Art snorts, “And who knows? Maybe you’ll last longer than 30 seconds.”
“So then you agree? I get to fuck you next time,” Patrick says, grinning up at him.
Art rolls his eyes, but there’s hope— because he’s smiling too.
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dalgomii · 23 days ago
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🍫 ,, santa, tell me if you're really there !
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• SYNOPSIS .. christmas / holiday themed drabbles with the dreamies!
♡ WORD COUNT .. 1.1k
☆ NOTES .. have a small lil offering *hands you fic cutely* while i recover from seasonal downtime (aka depresso expresso :)) also, if you want to request something, feel free to do so. or just chat with me. i love making friends and yapping <3
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lee mark !
The streets are quiet, lit only by the soft glow of holiday lights strung between lampposts. You and Mark stroll side by side, the snow crunching beneath your boots. It was supposed to be a quick coffee run, but somehow it has turned into a long walk through the nearly empty city.
Mark is quiet, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. “It’s weird, huh?” he says suddenly.
“What is?”
“Christmas. Feels different now.” He gives you a small, sheepish smile. “Not bad, just… different.”
You nod, understanding the unspoken weight behind his words. Mark always carries so much—trying to be everything for everyone.
As the two of you stop in front of a massive Christmas tree in the town square, he looks at you, his usual easygoing demeanor replaced by something softer. “Thanks for sticking around,” he says, his voice quiet. “This year’s been kinda rough, but having you here makes it feel… better.”
You smile, bumping your shoulder against his. “You’re not getting all sentimental on me now, are you?”
“Maybe,” he admits, laughing as he looks up at the tree. “But don’t tell the guys. They’d never let me live it down.”
The air between you is warm, even in the biting cold. When he finally takes your hand in his, the small, hopeful squeeze is all the reassurance you need that this Christmas is special—for both of you.
huang renjun !
The snow falls softly outside, casting the world in a glittering glow. You and Renjun sit in his cozy room, surrounded by art supplies he insisted on pulling out for a “holiday-themed painting session.”
“You’re doing it wrong,” he says, leaning across the table to point at your canvas. His finger brushes over yours as he adjusts your grip on the brush, his focus so intense you almost forget to breathe.
“Excuse me, Picasso,” you tease, “but this is my masterpiece.”
Renjun smirks. “Your masterpiece looks like an angry snowman.”
“It’s abstract art!” you shoot back, and he bursts into laughter.
Soon, the evening devolves into chaos. You dip your fingers into the paint, swiping a line of blue across his cheek. His jaw drops in mock betrayal before he retaliates, dabbing red on your nose. By the end, both your “masterpieces” are forgotten as you chase each other around the room, laughing so hard you can’t breathe.
lee jeno !
The park is a winter wonderland of twinkling lights and snow-covered trees, and Jeno’s competitive streak is in full force.
“Ready to lose?” he asks, packing a snowball with expert precision. His grin is all sharp teeth and mischief.
“You wish!” you counter, already ducking behind a bench for cover.
Snowballs fly through the air, your laughter blending with his as you narrowly dodge his shots. He is fast—unfairly so—but you have strategy. When he steps closer, ready to strike, you pop up and nail him with a perfect throw.
Jeno freezes, blinking as the snow slides down his face. “Oh, you’re so in for it now.”
Before you can run, he tackles you into a snowbank, both of you dissolving into laughter. The cold melts away in the warmth of his smile as he helps you up, brushing snow from your hair.
“You fought well,” he says, his voice softening. “But I’m still the reigning champion.”
lee haechan !
“Stop eating the candy!” you scold, slapping Haechan’s hand away from the bowl of gumdrops.
“I’m taste-testing,” he replies, popping another one into his mouth with zero remorse.
You were supposed to be decorating gingerbread houses together, but with Haechan, nothing ever stays on track. He's more focused on sneaking candy and sabotaging your house than actually building his own.
“This isn’t a competition,” you say as he reaches over to stick a candy cane in the middle of your roof.
“Everything is a competition,” he shoots back, grinning.
Despite his antics, you can’t help but laugh when his own house collapses under the weight of too many decorations. He looks so genuinely horrified that you decide to share your extra candy, though not without teasing him first.
By the end of the night, your houses aren’t Instagram-worthy, but they are full of memories—messy, chaotic, and perfectly Haechan.
na jaemin !
The Christmas market is alive with the scent of roasted chestnuts and cinnamon, the air buzzing with laughter and holiday music. Jaemin walks beside you, his hands stuffed in his pockets as he leads you to a booth selling handmade ornaments.
“This one looks like you,” he says, holding up a tiny snowman with a crooked hat.
“Are you saying I’m unbalanced?” you tease.
He chuckles, tucking the ornament into your hands. “I’m saying you’re cute.”
Heat rushes to your cheeks, but you hide it by pretending to inspect the ornament. Jaemin is always like this—effortlessly charming, his warmth shining brighter than the fairy lights strung overhead.
The night ends with hot cocoa by the firepit, your fingers brushing as he hands you his scarf. “Keep it,” he says, his smile soft. “I’ll just use this as an excuse to see you again.”
zhong chenle !
Chenle insisted on hosting a Christmas karaoke night, and naturally, it spirals into a chaotic, laugh-filled event.
“Your turn!” he announces, shoving the microphone into your hands as Mariah Carey’s All I Want for Christmas Is You blares through the speakers.
“I can’t hit those notes,” you protest, but he is already singing backup for you—loud, off-key, and completely unapologetic.
By the second verse, you give up and join in, both of you dancing around the living room like maniacs. He twirls you dramatically, nearly tripping over the tinsel on the floor, but his laugh is so infectious you don’t care.
Later, as you collapse onto the couch, breathless and grinning, Chenle looks at you with a twinkle in his eye. “That was terrible,” he says, “but I’d duet with you anytime.”
park jisung !
The ice rink bustles with families and couples gliding gracefully across the surface—or, in Jisung’s case, trying not to fall.
“Don’t let go,” he begs, gripping your hand like his life depends on it.
“I won’t, I promise,” you say, holding back a laugh as he wobbles dangerously.
Despite his initial nerves, Jisung slowly finds his balance with your help. By the end of the night, he skates on his own, though not without the occasional stumble.
“You’re a terrible teacher,” he teases after one particularly dramatic fall.
“And yet, you’re still upright,” you shoot back, sticking out your tongue.
As you leave the rink, his hand brushes against yours, tentative but lingering. When he finally works up the courage to intertwine your fingers, the smile on his face is brighter than any Christmas light.
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©DALGOMII, 2024
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littlelamy · 2 months ago
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Could you do Reader meeting Drew at carnival or something? Reader is there with her two friends and Drew is there with his, Odessa and co. Both groups are in odd numbers, meaning someone always has to sit with a stranger during a carousel ride. This time it is Reader’s turn to sit with a stranger while her friends sit togehter. Same for Drew. Reader and Drew get put together in a ride. Some awkward tension, attraction and cuteness. As soon as they get off the ride tho, Odessa runs up to Drew hugging him, so Reader gets the impression that he is taken and is like ‘’Oh…guess I won’t ask for his number…..:/ ‘’ and walks off. But then at some point Drew sees her again at the carnival and well…….
hope you like it !!⭐️ the air was thick with the smell of popcorn and cotton candy, the sounds of laughter and screams from carnival rides filling the night. you, along with your two friends, were making your way through the throngs of people, the vibrant lights casting a kaleidoscope of colors around you. your friend jenna was already eyeing the ferris wheel, while casey was determined to find the most ridiculous hat she could wear for a photo op.
“can we please go on something that won’t make me want to hurl?” you joked, clutching your stomach as you passed a spinny ride that looked like it could launch someone into orbit.
“oh, come on! where’s your sense of adventure?” jenna teased, giving you a playful shove. “we’re here to have fun!”
just then, you caught sight of a group across the way: a guy with tousled hair, a cheeky grin plastered on his face, surrounded by a couple of friends, one of whom was waving her arms like a lunatic. you couldn’t help but smirk; they looked like a band of misfits, and the guy—drew, you overheard someone call him—had an easy charm that was hard to ignore.
as you wandered toward the carousel, the sound of cheerful music inviting you closer, drew’s laugh carried over to you, loud and unapologetic. he had that kind of laugh that made you want to roll your eyes, but you also found yourself grinning. the carousel was in a weird configuration: you and your friends were odd-numbered, meaning one of you would have to sit with a stranger. guess who that unlucky bastard was? you.
“looks like it’s you, champ,” casey said, nudging you forward as jenna giggled. “have fun with your mystery date!”
you shot her a mock glare before stepping up to the ride. meanwhile, drew was being pushed by his friends toward the same ride, and you both ended up on the same horse—his a little to the left of yours. great.
as the carousel began to spin, you shot drew a sideways glance. he looked at you, and for a moment, everything blurred into the background. “so, this is fun,” you said, trying to fill the awkward silence. “i’m thrilled to be your carousel buddy.”
“thrilled? oh, it must be my lucky day,” he replied, his smirk making your heart flutter. “what’s your name? or should I just call you my new favorite stranger?”
“y/n. and you’re drew, right?”
“guilty as charged. so, what brings you here? other than the joy of being awkwardly paired with a stranger on a spinning ride?”
you laughed, the sound a bit louder than you intended. “just here for the chaos, i guess. you know, cotton candy, overpriced games, and the constant threat of nausea.”
“ah, a connoisseur of fine carnivals! i like that,” he grinned, leaning closer. “i, too, have a refined taste in fine cotton candy and the thrill of potential vomiting on a carousel. it’s a true art form, really.”
you shook your head, laughing. “you’re ridiculous. but in the best way.”
the ride continued, the two of you exchanging jokes, the initial awkwardness fading into something more comfortable. you caught yourself sneaking glances at him, taking in the way his lips curled into a smirk and how animated his expressions were. he was cute—like, really cute.
but as the ride slowed to a stop, reality came crashing back. you were both about to disembark when suddenly, a blur of energy rushed up to drew. “drew!” she squealed, throwing her arms around him. it was odessa, the friend from earlier, and the two of them looked way too cozy. your heart sank as you realized that maybe drew wasn’t available after all.
“oh… guess i won’t be asking for his number,” you muttered under your breath, forcing a smile as you stepped away. you could feel the bubble of attraction deflate like a popped balloon. you waved goodbye to your friends and started to walk away, trying to ignore the sting of disappointment.
time passed, and the carnival lights danced around you, but your mind kept drifting back to the moment with drew. you were beginning to think you’d never see him again when, out of nowhere, he came sprinting back into view. his friends were trailing behind him, and he was looking for something—or someone.
“hey!” he called, spotting you. you turned, a little surprised he even remembered your name. “you didn’t get my number!”
“yeah, well, you were kind of busy being hugged by odessa,” you replied, crossing your arms defensively.
“trust me, it’s not what it looks like. we're just friends,” he said, rolling his eyes. "want to grab some cotton candy together? i promise to share, but only if you’re willing to do it like true adults—by faceplanting into it.”
your heart did a little flip at his invitation. “okay, but only if you promise to eat it straight off the stick like civilized humans.”
drew laughed, his eyes lighting up. “deal! and who knows, maybe we can find a ride that doesn’t require sitting next to strangers. unless you’re into that. i’m not here to judge. my friends and i have a running bet on who can make the most ridiculous small talk on rides, and i could use some competition.”
he led you through the carnival, weaving between the crowds, his hand brushing against yours like he was testing the waters. your heart raced as you made your way toward the ferris wheel, its lights twinkling like a galaxy above you. “this is the best ride for some real fun,” he said, leaning closer as you waited in line. “you get a killer view of the carnival and the chance to make out in the moonlight if you play your cards right.”
“oh, really?” you shot back, trying to sound nonchalant, though your cheeks felt hot. “is that a guarantee?”
“i’m just saying,” he said, a wicked grin spreading across his face, “i can be pretty persuasive. or maybe it’s just the cotton candy talking.”
as you climbed into the gondola and it began to rise, the world below you shrank, the lights of the carnival twinkling like stars. you could feel the excitement building, your heart racing not just from the height but from being so close to him. drew leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. “you know, this would be the perfect time to kiss someone,” he murmured, mischief dancing in his eyes.
“oh, is that right?” you replied, challenging him with a smirk.
“absolutely. i mean, who wouldn’t want to steal a kiss while overlooking a carnival filled with chaos?” he asked, leaning even closer until your lips were mere inches apart.
in that moment, everything else faded away. the noise of the carnival, the lights, the world—it was just you and drew, suspended in that gondola. you could feel the heat radiating between you as you closed the gap, your lips meeting his in a soft, tentative kiss that quickly turned hungry. he tasted like cotton candy and adventure, and you lost yourself in the moment, the kiss deepening as you melted against him.
when you finally pulled away, both of you breathless, he grinned like he’d just won the jackpot. “so, how was that for some carnival fun?” he teased, clearly pleased with himself.
“definitely more exciting than a roller coaster,” you admitted, your heart still racing.
“well, the night is still young,” he said, his grin widening. “let’s see what other trouble we can get into.”
as the ferris wheel creaked to a stop, you couldn’t help but feel that this was just the beginning of a wild night filled with laughter, chaos, and maybe a few more kisses.
taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @kissrotten @rafecameroninterlude @sstargirln
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m0ssrat · 1 month ago
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arcane music headcanons expect I'm objectively correct
Jinx
Ghost and Pals, Will Wood and the Tapeworms, Mother Mother, Melanie Martinez, Corpse, Set It Off, Poppy Nightcore, Gorillaz, etc.
You know those really bad playlist for characters with like, extremely unfitting songs that have an abnormal amount of Mother Mother in them? Yeah. She's the one making those.
If it was a TikTok audio for a Danganronpa cosplayer in 2020 she probably has it on loop
Listens to shitty modern day Hyperpop and it sounds like ASS
She listened to a undertale fansong nightcore cover on her school Chromebook and it genuinely changed her life for the worst. She was on Wattpad with Angel with a Shotgun BLASTING through her skull candy earbuds she stole off of a kid.
She's never been to a concert and that's for everyone's sake. She would have the absolutely worst concert etiquette to ever exist.
Once she matures she becomes an IPC diehard. She is at a Juggalo concert with her shirt off throwing Fuego and probably getting pulled over after.
Vi
Twenty One Pilots, Hozier, Florence and The Machine, Weezer, The Smiths, Ghost, Rainbow Kitten Surprise, Queen, System of a Down, Nancy Sinatra, etc
She says she's not a big music fan and that she just listens to whatever's on the radio but that is a lie.
She's not normal about Florence and The Machine. Anytime she's about to have a breakdown she puts Dog Days Are Over on full blast inside her truck. She's been in the top percent of her listeners for 5 years straight now.
She listens to exclusively bands that a guy in a guitar store would brag about listening to saying they were totally indie and no one would know them. She owns a vinyl player. She's not as pretentious, but still.
Hozier is like, the one guy in all of history that she somewhat is attracted to. His music is a borderline religious experience. She went to one of his concerts with Ekko and cried so hard she got sick. As soon as they were in the hotel she chugged a bottle of honey whiskey and passed out. She has not been the same since.
She HATES Jinx's music with like, a genuine passion. She will smack Jinx's hand if she tries to change her music. they are fighting like rabid dogs for who gets the aux cord
Caitlyn
Taylor Swift, Chappel Roan, Mitski, Kate Bush, The Cardigans, The Crane Wives, Sabrina Carpenter. Billie Elish, etc
She's relatively normal about music. Most of the time she just has white noise on whenever she's working. However, if she needs to do a long drive or something and doesn't want to listen to the radio, she WILL be playing all of Taylor Swifts discography
Shes not a Swiftie, but she listens to it enough that she got Jayce into it. She's way more a fan of her older music though.
Most of the music she listens to sounds like breakup music. Like it's always weirdly somber and full of anguish. She will also occasionally listen to a song about family issues and clearly not be okay.
Again, not really a music fan. However, this has not stopped Jayce from seeing her in her car scream-crying to Good Luck Babe. He is so worried for her and she just acted so calm after.
She thinks Vi has such unique tastes and will end up growing to like a lot of Vi's music too. Disgusting. I think they kiss during a Hozier song playing and everyone thinks they're disgusting.
Ekko
Tyler The Creator, Gorillaz, Poor Mans Poison, Los Campesinos, The Oozes, Pavement, AJJ, The Front Bottoms, Jhariah, Jack Stauber, Djo, etc.
The only one with objectively good music tastes in the entirety of this group. He's the kind of person to genuinely mean it when he says he listens to everything. The only music he doesn't really love is modern country, but he fucks heavily with almost everything.
The only artist that's super consistent and someone he actively gets excited for when there's a new release is Tyler the Creator. He enjoys music as an art form rather than something to just listen to, and he loves Tyler's vision and how he makes it an experience.
He listens to a LOT of Legend of Zelda soundtracks. If his favorite video game has a soundtrack he will have that on loop for days. His Spotify Wrapped is consistently fucked because of this.
He took Vi to the Hozier concert because she kept asking and he got into Hozier before she did. He has a video of her drunk-crying in her hotel bed about it. It was genuinely such a magical experience for them both though.
He got Jinx into Gorillaz as a way to try and get her to like. better music. And it backfired so bad. He's the one pushing her to like ICP.
Jayce
Taylor Swift, Sabrina Carpenter, Olivia Rodrigo, Chappel Roan, Charli xcx, Doja Cat, Kesha, Lady Gaga, Ayesha Erotica, Shakira, P!NK. etc
Do NOT take away his basic white girl music he will DIE!!!!!! he will die SO BAD!!!!!
He got into Taylor Swift due to Caitlyn and now he's the bigger Swiftie. Genuinely has started collecting all her albums. He is so obsessed with her music it is a little concerning.
He will blast Juno by Sabrina Carpenter on full blast while working and it annoys the genuine fuck out of Viktor. He is not doing this to annoy him, he's trying to get Viktor to like his kind of music.
Vi has been begging him to listen to literally anything else. Viktor is also begging, but he's starting to give up.
He went to a Sabrina Carpenter concert with Mel and he ended up getting the fuzzy pink handcuffs and he will NEVER stop talking about it. He has them hanging on his wall alongside a picture of him on the screen.
Viktor
The Hoosiers, The Oh Hellos, American Murder Song, The Taxpayers, Poor Mans Poison, Orville Peck, Gene Aubrey, Johnny Cash, Hozier, etc
Again, objectively good music tastes. He tends to listen to old country or folk music. He likes a song that tells a story and has a lot of heart in it.
If you put modern day country on the radio he will die. If he has to listen to a "I LOVE BEER AND TRUCKS" song one more time he's going to throw himself onto the highway full speed. He despises that genre of music more than anything else on the entirety of this Earth.
He is also a huge Hozier fan, and has been since Take Me to Church blew up while he was in his religious guilt era. He went to the same concert as Vi but they didn't know they were there. He cried so hard at that concert he got sick. It was more than a religious experience for him.
He has been trying to get Jayce to listen to Orville Peck or Hozier for MONTHS. He's not allowed Jayce to play his music ever. It's working very slowly.
He thinks about Jayce while listening to Hozier and contemplates ending it all while Jayce is playing BRAT in the lab. Genuinely couldn't be a worse situation for him actually.
Mel
See, I know most will say she would have amazing music tastes but I can't agree. I don't think she cares. She listens to whatever is on the radio. Her Spotify Wrapped is consistently fucked because she uses her phone as a speaker at like parties or during long car rides.
She doesn't have a preference when it comes to music. Her liked playlist of songs is close to 500 and it's just whatever songs anyone has sent her. She will put it on shuffle and get Halls of Illusions by Insane Clown Posse back to back with fucking Someone New by Hozier. It's bad.
She is not paying attention to what she's listening to. She blocks it out so well that she can't really pay attention to it. If she's forced to pick music, it'll just be whatever Jayce has made her listen to in the past week and a half.
She went to a Sabrina Carpenter concert with Jayce purely because she saw all the videos and thought it would be fun. Her and Jayce were dorking out. She could not match his energy though, and she loves him so much but she is never going to a concert with him again.
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kpopscruggles · 9 months ago
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RANDOMS REQUESTS OPEN!
———-
I just needed to get this shit off my chest. Need To Know, Candy, SO High by Doja Cat while having late like 2 am sex with Anton cause you guys are bored. Dark room, maybe a lamp and the tv is on. He’s lying on your tummy giving it kisses.  
Starts out with him just dying to give you head, you are playing with his fluffy curls while he sucks on your clit giving little moans art your taste. Every once in a while, looking up at you through his curls, his tongue swirling your clit. “Your taste so good...” He’ll sigh while pushing his fingers into you. Your hips starting to buck when you feel yourself cumming, he’s not moving though because it just fuels him in a way know he’s making his baby cum so hard.  
Letting you sit on his lap, your bare pussy grinding against his cock, him sucking air between his teeth once he feels your clit run tight at his tip. His head falling back, a strained moan leaving him causing a gasp to follow once you push him inside you. Your pussy a wet warm cushion around his cock. Slowly rocking your hips and watching small moans leave him, his hands gripping your thighs. He starts to get vocal once he manages to get used to your perfect pussy. 
“mmm~ ugh- f..fuck..” 
“Just like that, please please don't stop” 
“Your gonna cum? Yes baby, I-I'm gonna cum too~” 
“Can I? Please let me cum inside~” 
When I tell you this man absolutely hates pulling out of you. Anton is a loving man, fr fr. He wants you in some form all the time, he never gets enough of you so when you deny him in any kind of way, he’s heartbroken. When he fills you though, your gonna hear his soft whimpers moans with each pump of cum that leaves his cock.  
A panting mess, trying to calm down from the high but you both give each other a glance that the moment could last another round. The way he’s goanna give you puppy eyes asking, “Can I fuck you from behind?”. Right when he gets you in that position, he placed a pillow down for your pretty little head to lay on, he’s also running his hand from your ass and down your back to help you relax in position too. 
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tearwolfe · 4 months ago
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I ABSOLUTELY LOVEEEEE YOUR ART STYLE I LOVE THAT YOU CAN DRAW CHUBBY! You're art is just so edible (It tastes like yummy soda candy)
THANK U!!!! and it's not all that hard... just draw with love and look at references. your heart and mind will guide you
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suzukiblu · 1 year ago
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Day twenty-seven of fic NaNoWriMo, obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU.
They walk to their first planned destination, Kon being unfairly adorable and also an asshole at the same time, because it’s Kon so of course he can multitask that kind of shit. Tim gets teased about his taste in kids’ toys and his date budget and his theoretical Smash skills, which he’s clearly going to need to educate the bastard on the hard way. Alternately, Tim also gets Hawaiian gummy candy shared with him, never mind that Kon apparently both really likes it and hasn’t had it in months. 
Tim continues to be in way too deep and finds it sweet of him, possibly because of the excited and pleased way Kon grins at him when he tells him likes the candy. 
Tim is definitely in way too deep. 
They get where they’re going, and Kon . . . pauses, and then tilts his head and raises an eyebrow at him. 
“Seriously?” he asks. 
“Trust me,” Tim says with admittedly unwarranted confidence as he squeezes his hand, then leads him into the modern art museum looming in front of them. Kon isn’t the type to really be that into museums, he knows, but they did “meet” in one and also this specific exhibit seemed, well . . . 
Promising, he guesses. 
“Sure, pretty boy,” Kon says with a laugh, squeezing his hand in return. Tim is idly mystified as to why Kon keeps calling him that, but in no way intends to dissuade him from it. If Kon wants to call him completely illogical things, that’s up to him.
He takes Kon to the ticket counter and buys them both a ticket. The clerk asks for their ID and Kon hesitates, because he’s obviously never had or needed an actual ID in his life, but Tim’s already pulling out the fake ones he made for “Alvin Draper” and “Connell Hill”. They won’t stand up to Bat-level scrutiny, obviously–he didn’t have the time or see the point in going that far–but they’ll get them into an adults-only museum night. He’ll do up something more reliable to buy the cul-de-sac with. He has a few identities that could buy property established, but Bruce knows all of those identities, so he’d rather avoid using any of them. Easier to just build a new cover ID from scratch than hide an active one setting up a new residence that isn’t an obvious safehouse, he figures. 
He pays the clerk, pockets his receipt, and they head down the hall together. The museum is one of the nicer ones in Gotham, and decorated a little bit more nicely than usual for the event, but not outright extravagantly. It’s due to be open a little later than usual too, though Tim doesn’t know how late Kon will want to stay. He can probably push back their dinner reservations if it comes to it, though he’s not expecting that to be necessary. 
“It’s an 18+ thing?” Kon asks as soon as they’re out of the clerk’s earshot, raising an eyebrow curiously. “The frick kind of museum is this?” 
“Not that kind,” Tim says, trying not to blush. “They just do adults-only events sometimes. It’s just so there won’t always be a bunch of bratty kids and annoying teenagers running around distracting the older museum-goers. And there's hors d'oeuvres and drinks.” 
“Babe, I don’t know about you, but you are aware I am technically both a bratty kid and an annoying teenager, right?” Kon asks him with a smirk. 
“That would be why I got you a fake ID too,” Tim says reasonably. 
“So we just snuck into a museum with fake IDs,” Kon says with a laugh. “I mean, I’ve done weirder, probably, but what the fuck, Tim? Where’d you even get that?” 
“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” Tim says only a little bit sheepishly, carefully avoiding the latter question. Also every other version of this kind of exhibit he found was way more kid-oriented and definitely not going to count as the kind of “nice” date to have convinced Kon to dress up for or actually look like Tim had put effort into any of the night. 
“What, did the goat idol end up here?” Kon asks in amusement. “We checking up on the little guy?” 
“No, he’s still living his best life in Metropolis under increased security, last I heard,” Tim says, though that’d be kind of funny, so depending on how long they’re seeing each other maybe he should keep that idea in mind. 
“You actually checked?” Kon asks with a laugh. 
. . . right, that’s not something a normal teenager would do, is it. Well–too late now, so Tim’s just gonna have to lean into it. 
“I was just wondering what they were going to do with it, after a whole gallery wall got blown in and everything,” he says. “Apparently the answer was ‘close for a weekend and then back to business’. Don’t ask me where they found contractors that fast.” 
“It’s Metropolis,” Kon says. “If you can’t find a contractor to fix superhero damage, you’re not trying.” 
“It wasn’t actually superhero damage,” Tim points out. “You didn’t break anything.” 
“A real fucking important vase, apparently,” Kon snorts, but he’s smiling a little as he shrugs. “Alright, fine, but ‘mediocre museum robber damage’ probably doesn’t sound as good on the insurance, now does it? And I look much prettier in the paper than a bunch of mug shots of idiots who didn’t even know how to work their cute lil’ magic goat buddy.” 
“Definitely, yeah,” Tim agrees wryly, steering him down a side hall towards the sounds of other people. Frankly he’s counting them lucky the goat didn’t try to start a magical apocalypse or something, given how their lives usually go. And also it was Metropolis, which sucks enough as it is. So like, of course the apocalypse would come from Metropolis, given the option and opportunity to. 
“I don't know much about art or whatever, you know,” Kon says a little bit awkwardly, peering down the hall towards the dimly-lit gallery ahead. “Like–that was not prioritized in the ‘how to be Superman’ educational package. Especially because it was written by committee by a bunch of people who I'm still pretty sure had never even met the guy. Like ever.” 
“You don't have to know anything about art to like it,” Tim says reasonably, resisting a vague urge to frown over the way Kon phrased that. Note to self, maybe. Just–for later, obviously. “But this isn't really that kind of exhibit.” 
“Isn't this an art museum?” Kon says with a puzzled frown. “What else is there?”
“It's a ‘multimedia experience primed to dazzle and delight all of the observer's senses’,” Tim recites wryly off the website copy he was reading earlier this week. “Also known as a sensory exhibit.” 
“A–what?” Kon wrinkles his nose in confusion.
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