Slimecicle

QUACKITY DRABBLE

based on these pics/clips from the user on TikTok:

(He just looks so submissive I had to)

Notes: Fem!reader x Drunk!Sub!Alex

Relationship: Pre-established romantic & sexual

TW's: SMUT, alcohol (obviously), degradation and choking kinks, no others as far as I'm aware!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You got home and quackity was streaming (like the pics) and you're obviously caught off-guard

He was drunk.

He was in the 'drunk silly' kinda mood, not good for the stream to see now that you were there, though

He'd make grabby hands at you, giggling while he was getting hard

You'd giggle a little as he called to you, you still not being in view on stream

"No, Alex, you're streaming and you know I don't like media attention." You say, and he did it again, calling your name

"Y/N...pleeeeease?" Alex says, stretching out your name accidentally, he was so needy it was embarrassing almost

You went behind him, your hands going over his chest, laying them there as you speak. "You sure you should be streaming like this?"

To which he groaned in protest, but gently put his hands to rest on your wrist, caressing them softly

"Yeah! What are you gonna do? Stop me?" Alex says, his words slurring together as he weakly spoke

To that, you roll your eyes, taking your hands off him, as if punishing him in a way. You walked to the kitchen stool, facing him next to the setup

"Alex, come on. You need to, so say bye to the stream or i'll go back to my room." You say, it was a tone that the stream started spamming about, and Alex rolled his eyes at

"Hey! Stop calling her hot! She's mine!" He says making a huff noise, but, after, following you're instructions, he says a reluctant goodbye and turns off the stream

And you smile, teasing and happy

"Don't look at me like thaaat..." He'd drag out, now showing how desperate he actually was for you, urging you over with grabby hands, not wanting to get up, thinking he might fall

And you, of course, go over. Sitting on his lap as he grunts weakly, his hands sliding to your hips, squeezing them softly

You chuckle to yourself, putting your hands on his and rubbing them gently.

"Mmm...hermosa, you're so pretty...." he says.

Already saying sweet nothings? Damn.

He starts to kiss your neck and squeeze your hips tighter, and it turns into him giving you love bites and hickeys really quick...

You stop him for a second, turning to face him, sitting on his lap, feeling his hard dick

"That desperate, already? Come on, at least take me to the bedroom, 'lex."

And he groaned, annoyed at having to stop, but he picked you up bridal style and carried you upstairs

But he didn't pin you on the bed, but he started begging you.

"Please? I need you to dominate me, please?" He stringed out, and you did

You smirked, pushing him with your hand and he softly hit on the beds surface, and he was so desperate, he was already taking his pants off.

You did, too. Having a lace lingerie set on already....

God, he was throbbing

You smirked him, going down on his cock, facing him and having a soft grip on his neck

He'd moan and beg, incoherent words and mumbles, "H-Hmmm...mami-"

You cut him off, squeezing his neck tighter, making him moan, "Words, slut." And he fucking groaned, rolling his head back.

"Mhm....I-Harder-please....."

It went like that forever, unt eventually, he was begging, and begging, as in he almost couldn't stop

He wanted to cum for you so bad.

"Mmm, Mami, mami, mami, please....I need it please....I'll be good--please!" He drawled out, tears at the edges of his eyes

You smirked up at him, running your thumb over the tip of his dick, making his hips jerk up and made him moan out loud, groaning.

"Fine, I'll let you, slut"

You teased as you stroked him harshly, taking him in your mouth occasionally.

It didn't take long before he was shaking and cumming him your arms

"Mami! Mmm...! S-So....good......" He screamed out for you, the neighbors must've hated you guys.

"Mhm~ good little slut~" You cooed as you stroked him through his orgasm

"Ughh.....mami...." He says, making grabby hands at you, at which you crawled up next to him, you holding him as he nuzzled his face in your unclothed tits

That was probably round one, he was a switch, y'know.

THIS IS MY FIRST TIME POSTING SMUT😭

Helsinki

Helskinki, Finland

Idk man...

It's gonna have smut if I do btw, and it's literally just a boy in my class.

(I have lore if y'all want it)

guys....I made something....

this is the 'alpha wolf' typa shit, except I made it an actual fanfic, this was sent to my group chat btw

Cut bc y'all will be traumatized

(the context of the first message was a tailamm2 from TikTok video, and I laughed to hard so my mom got mad) "IBCANTBREATH"

MY MOMMA IS NADE AT ME NOW😡😡😡

DONT MAKE MY ALPHA WOLF COME OUT

*I start transforming, ripping my shirt off as I howl* OWWWWWWWEWAAA

N-No, k-kitten....d-d-d-d-daddy doesn't you to see me like this

(continued)N-No, p-p-p-p-p-p-please, kitten..... I-I-I-I-I-I-I don't want you to see me like this.....*I groan as my inner alpha wolf takes over, and my eyes turn red* YOU'RE MINE NOW KITTEN!!!! *I say as I start aggressively running on four legs around you, starting to goon and moan in the process* Nghh!~ K-kitten, D-d-d-d-daddy loves you!!!! *I say as I violently cum all over the forest, my cum reaching terminal velocity as it goes through the stratosphere, making aliens horny* K-KITTEN, SEE WHAT YOU'VE DONE? *I say as I growl with anger* Y-You've destroyed the world....*I start to walk away in an alpha wolf like fashion* I hope you're proud of yourself....*I sigh as the entire world gets fucking blown up by the aliens, who begin to fuck everyone and blast them*

.....dare I say gn!reader? Yes. GN!reader.

i almost lost this GEM, I wanna just have it on my blog to read at random <3

Cherry Flavored (smut) ❤️‍🔥

The room was dim, lit only by the soft blue glow of the TV, some half-watched movie flickering across the screen. You were curled up beside Alex on his couch, legs tucked under you, a popsicle in one hand, dressed like it was your apartment: tiny black shorts and a pale pink tank top that clung to your chest like a second skin.

He hadn’t noticed at first.

You were just his best friend.

The movie was decent. He liked having you close. Nothing new.

But then your leg brushed his. Bare thigh against sweats.

Then you shifted—just enough for your tank top to tug lower—and suddenly he could see the slope of your chest, the soft press of your tits practically spilling from the neckline.

That was when things started to fall apart.

You took a long, slow lick of your popsicle and sighed like you were blessed.

“This was such a good idea,” you mumbled, swinging your foot lazily while the red syrup dripped down your fingers.

Alex swallowed hard.

His eyes dropped.

Big mistake.

The popsicle. Your mouth. The stretch of your throat as you licked a stripe from base to tip like you were trying to get every drop.

He shifted his leg and tried to think of literally anything else.

Taxes. Fire ants. Cement.

Nothing worked.

You leaned into him without even looking, laughing softly at something on the screen.

Your thigh pressed against his.

Your arm brushed his hoodie.

Your hair tickled his neck.

And he was so hard he thought he might pass out.

He couldn’t stop staring. Couldn’t stop thinking.

It had been years since he’d had sex. Since he’d seen someone naked. Since anyone had even looked at him the way he wanted you to—warm and needy and wrecked.

And now you were here. Inches away.

Looking like sin in a tank top that kept slipping lower, giggling at stupid movie dialogue, popsicle gloss on your mouth like you were made to ruin him.

You licked a melting drop from your finger and moaned lightly under your breath.

Alex squeezed his eyes shut.

Fuck.

He could feel the tension pulsing in his thighs, the way his cock was pressing against the inside of his sweats. It was unbearable. And you—so clueless—just kept being worse.

“Ugh,” you groaned suddenly, sitting up. “I need a napkin, this thing’s dripping all over me.”

You leaned forward over your lap, reaching for the coffee table—

And he saw everything.

Your tank top gaped forward. The full view of your tits swaying softly in your bra, the shadow of lace, the curve of warm skin lit perfectly by the screen.

His mouth went dry.

He looked away fast, heart pounding.

Do not get caught. Do not get caught.

You sat back up with the napkin, oblivious. You licked your fingers one more time and glanced at him.

“You’re super quiet,” you said. “You okay?”

He didn’t answer right away.

His leg bounced. His jaw flexed. He tugged at his hoodie like it might hide the obvious strain in his pants.

“Yeah,” he said finally, voice hoarse. “Just tired.”

You gave him a look. “You’re acting weird.”

“I’m not.”

“You are. You look like someone just drop-kicked your brain.”

He forced a laugh.

You turned back to the screen, still nestled close, and took another slow drag of the popsicle—tongue sliding down it in a way that made his entire body tense.

He tried to focus on the movie.

He failed.

All he could think about was that popsicle. Your mouth. Your tits bouncing when you laughed. The soft sighs you made when something funny happened. The fact that you didn’t even realize you were teasing him.

Or maybe you did.

And he was fucked either way.

———————-

Alex spent five full minutes in the bathroom just breathing.

He didn’t jerk off. He thought about it. God, he thought about it. But something about the tension—about the forbidden slow build of it—made it worse. Made it better.

Made it deliriously painful.

He splashed cold water on his face. Pressed his palms to the counter. Avoided looking at his own eyes in the mirror.

Get it together. She’s your best friend. She’s not doing it on purpose. Chill the fuck out.

He adjusted himself—awkward, half-hard and half-mad about it—and headed back into the living room with every intention of pretending nothing had happened.

And then he saw you.

You were lying on your stomach now.

On his couch.

Ass in the air. Legs bent at the knees. Bare feet kicking lazily.

Tank top even lower than before, breasts pressed together by the way you were propped up on your elbows, soft curves practically spilling out as you stared at the screen.

And between your lips?

Another fucking popsicle.

Cherry. Again.

Your mouth closed around it, cheeks hollowing slightly, and he swore his soul left his body.

You looked up when you heard him.

“Oh hey,” you said, casual as ever. “I was gonna wait, but these melt fast.”

He blinked. “You—you got another one?”

“Yeah. You want one?”

He didn’t answer.

Couldn’t.

Your tits jiggled slightly as you shifted to make room for him, the way your arms were pressed under them practically framing the soft swell of your cleavage like a fucking offering.

You looked up at him again, popsicle still between your lips.

“You good?”

Alex stood there frozen. Sweats hanging low on his hips. Hoodie sleeves shoved up. Hair sticking to his forehead from sheer stress.

You blinked, lips pink and glossy from the popsicle, voice light and sweet as you asked:

“…What?”

And that’s when he realized—

You had no idea.

You had no idea you were driving him crazy. No clue how close he was to grabbing your hips and dragging you back onto his lap. No idea how long it had been since he’d been touched, since someone had looked at him, and now here you were—

Best friend. Popsicle. Tank top. Everything.

And Alex was losing his goddamn mind.

—————-

Alex sat back down slowly.

Carefully.

Like a man approaching a wild animal—except you were the one all soft and sweet and dangerous, legs kicked up, tank top clinging to your chest, popsicle dripping down your fingers like you were made to test him.

He adjusted his hoodie in his lap. Cleared his throat.

You didn’t even glance over. You were too busy eyeing the popsicle.

“This one’s messier,” you said casually, lifting it to examine the sticky trail melting down the side.

Alex couldn’t look away.

“I wonder…” you started, voice light, like a daydream. “You think anyone’s ever, like… fucked one of these?”

His entire brain short-circuited.

“What?”

You giggled. “A popsicle. It’s just kinda… shaped for it, y’know?” You held it up, rotating it in the light. “Like it’s got the dimensions. Give it a lil warm-up, it’s practically a toy.”

Alex blinked at you like you’d summoned a demon in front of him.

You gasped suddenly as a drip ran down your knuckle. “Ugh, messy—”

Then dragged your tongue up the side, slow and long, lips puckering at the top as you sucked it clean with a quiet, satisfied hum.

Alex didn’t breathe.

Didn’t blink.

You looked over at him with innocent wide eyes. “What?”

He swallowed hard.

You tilted your head, smirk tugging at your lips. “You’re staring.”

He tore his eyes away, blinking fast. “You’re—you’re talking about fucking popsicles, what am I supposed to do?”

“I’m just saying,” you teased, twirling the stick between your fingers, “someone, somewhere, definitely shoved one up their pussy at some point.”

Alex groaned. “Can you not say that word right now?”

“Which one?”

He glared.

You smiled, slow and smug, then licked the tip of the popsicle again—lazily, like you had no idea what you were doing to him.

“Pussy,” you whispered, and he visibly flinched.

You burst out laughing.

“Oh my God, are you actually blushing?”

He wasn’t. He was sweating.

Hard.

“You’re evil,” he muttered, adjusting himself again, doing everything he could to keep his hands to himself. “Fucking evil.”

You rolled onto your side, tits still practically spilling out, resting your cheek on your arm as you smiled up at him, popsicle dangling lazily from your fingers.

—————

You were now fully sprawled on your stomach across the couch, legs swinging lazily in the air, tank top sliding lower by the minute, and a second cherry popsicle halfway melted in your grip.

Alex had moved to the far corner of the couch, as if another twelve inches would make a difference when his dick was pulsing in his sweats and his brain was absolutely fried.

You were oblivious.

Or maybe you weren’t.

“You ever think about how weird it’d be to actually fuck one of these?” you asked casually, giving the popsicle a little bounce. “Like, I’ve never had anything cold inside me before. That’d be like—fucking the Abominable Snowman.”

You laughed at your own joke—hard, shaking the couch, your tits bouncing in that tiny tank top, one strap slipping even lower.

Alex made a quiet, pained noise.

You licked the popsicle.

He closed his eyes.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered.

You turned your head toward him, grinning. “What?”

“You have no idea what you’re doing right now.”

You blinked up at him, playing dumb—way too well.

“I’m just talking,” you said, voice syrupy. “I talk a lot, Lexi, you know this.”

He stared at you, jaw tight, legs spread, hands clenched in the fabric of his hoodie like it might ground him.

And then you giggled, eyes wide with faux curiosity.

“Ooh, wait—” you said, popsicle pausing inches from your lips, “you think if I actually did fuck a cherry popsicle, it’d, like… make my pussy taste like cherry afterwards?”

Alex made a noise like a dying animal.

You laughed again, delighted.

“You’re such a little perv,” you teased. “I say pussy and you forget how to function.”

He didn’t respond.

He couldn’t.

You stuck the popsicle in your mouth and slowly dragged it out, tongue curling around it for one final tease.

And Alex?

He dropped his head into his hands and groaned.

“I need God.”

—————

Alex hadn’t spoken in three minutes.

You were lying on your stomach still, shirt barely containing your tits, popsicle lazily melting in your fingers while your lips glistened with cherry sugar.

He was fully red in the face, jaw clenched, eyes on the TV but seeing nothing.

You tapped your lip thoughtfully with the stick.

“I think I need to test this theory.”

He blinked. “What—what theory?”

“The flavor thing. Y’know, if I fuck a popsicle, will my pussy taste like it?” You kicked your legs playfully, grinning at him like you weren’t talking about putting a popsicle in your cunt.

He choked. “Please.”

“It’s for science, Alex,” you said seriously.

He looked at you, wild-eyed. “Stop saying shit like that.”

“But if I’m gonna do it,” you went on, ignoring him completely, “I need to pick the right flavor. Like, if I’m gonna be edible, I wanna be delicious, obviously.”

You tapped your chin, then turned slowly toward him.

“Hey, Lexi.”

He didn’t answer.

You batted your lashes. “What flavor would you want a girl’s pussy to be?”

He actually stopped breathing.

“What the fuck kind of question is that?”

“You gotta pick one.”

“I—Jesus Christ.”

“Come on,” you teased, rolling onto your back, shirt riding up your stomach, legs spread just enough to be dangerous. “It’s just a hypothetical. A little… oral taste test.”

“Stop,” he groaned.

“Pick.”

“I—fuckin’—fine. Cherry. Happy?”

You grinned. “Mm, good choice.”

Then hopped off the couch like this was all perfectly normal and made your way to his freezer.

He watched in horrified silence as you bent over, ass on full display, and grabbed another cherry popsicle.

You walked back, sucking it once, slow and dramatic.

Then smiled at him sweetly.

“You don’t mind if I do this on your couch, do you?”

He blinked. “Do what.”

You leaned close.

“The experiment.”

Alex stared at you.

Mouth slightly open.

Breathing hard.

And said absolutely nothing.

Because he had no idea whether he wanted to run away—

Or fucking help.

————

Alex stared at you like you’d just said you were going to light yourself on fire.

“You are not fucking shoving that up your—your—”

You tilted your head. “My pussy?”

His hands flew to his face. “Yes! That!”

You laughed, twirling the popsicle between your fingers, completely unfazed.

“God, Lexi,” you teased, voice syrupy, “don’t get all flustered. It’s not like I’m gonna strip down or anything. I’m not even wearing panties.”

He froze.

“What,” he croaked.

You flopped back on the couch and looked up at him sweetly.

“I said I’m not wearing panties.” You wiggled your hips, shorts riding up even higher. “So there’s, like… nothing in the way.”

His eyes went wide. “You’re not serious.”

You grinned. “You think I wore those dumb little lace ones with these shorts? They bunch.”

“Jesus Christ.”

You reached for the waistband casually, fingers curling under the hem, and slowly pulled your shorts to the side.

Alex’s mouth dropped open.

You weren’t lying.

Bare, soft, smooth. Exposed without even taking anything off.

Then—with no hesitation—you unwrapped the cherry popsicle with a lazy hum.

Held it up like it was just part of your snack.

And said:

“Don’t be dramatic, Lexi. It’s not like I’m asking you to help.”

He actually whimpered.

“You’re not doing this on my fucking couch,” he managed, voice hoarse, breathless, high with disbelief.

“Why not?”

“Because—fuck, because I’m right here!”

You smiled, slow and evil.

“I know. That’s half the fun.”

And then, before he could stop you, you slid the popsicle between your thighs—slow, dramatic, evil—pressing the melting tip to your folds with a little hiss.

Alex didn’t breathe.

Didn’t move.

He just watched.

Eyes wide, cock painfully hard in his sweats, hands clenched in his lap like it might stop him from reaching over and taking it out of your hand.

————

The second the cherry popsicle touched your folds, you gasped—high-pitched, breathy, startled by the cold.

Alex twitched.

His hands clenched into fists on either side of him, hoodie bunched in his lap, his eyes glued to your legs spread wide, shorts tugged to the side, that red fucking popsicle glistening between your thighs.

You winced again, hips twitching.

“Holy fuck it’s cold—” you moaned, breath shaking.

His brain short-circuited.

You pushed it in slow. Not all the way—just enough to make your back arch, enough to whimper, soft and bratty, like it wasn’t your idea.

“Oh my God,” you whined. “It’s—fuck—it’s so cold—”

Alex made a sound—somewhere between a growl and a dying prayer.

Your tank top was hanging low, tits pressed together from how you were leaning back on one hand, other fingers between your legs holding the red stick that was now dripping with slick and juice.

You slowly pulled it out, blinking down at it, then looked up at him with a grin.

“Fuck,” you giggled. “I don’t know if it’s popsicle juice or me.”

He groaned, loud, wrecked, like it physically hurt.

“Give it to me.”

You blinked, confused—but smirking.

You held the popsicle out to him, syrup sliding slowly down the stick, still wet from you.

“…The popsicle?”

He looked up at you, furious, flushed, eyes black with need.

“No,” he growled.

“Not that.”

He stood.

Took one step forward.

Grabbed your face.

“You fucking menace.”

Then shoved you back onto the couch, mouth on yours, hips grinding against your bare thigh—and finally finally said:

“Give me your fucking pussy.”

—————-

His mouth was on yours. Hands gripping your thighs. The popsicle, still glistening with slick and syrup, dangled from your fingers.

But before he could take it—before he could drop to his knees and taste you like he wanted to—you pulled back with a teasing little pout.

“Wait.”

Alex froze. “What.”

You grinned, devilish. “I don’t even know if it’s cherry flavored yet.”

He blinked.

Then watched—silent, tense, shaking—as you slowly dragged the popsicle back down between your thighs and rubbed it over your pussy again.

“Just gotta, y’know,” you said softly, tongue against your teeth, “get a real sample.”

And then you slipped it back in.

You gasped, hips twitching.

“It’s—ugh—it’s so cold—”

Alex dropped to his knees in front of the couch, hands already sliding up your thighs, and just as you reached to pull the popsicle out again, he grabbed your wrists.

Hard.

“Nope.”

You froze.

“Leave it,” he growled, eyes dark. “Let it melt inside you.”

Your eyes widened. “Alex—it’s cold—”

“Good,” he muttered, leaning in closer, his breath brushing over your still-parted thighs. “You wanted to be a fucking popsicle experiment? You’re getting one.”

You whined. High-pitched. Desperate.

“Lexiiii,” you whined again, wriggling under his grip. “It’s cold. It’s freezing. I don’t think I can—*”

“You can.” His voice was low, rough. “You’re gonna sit there and let it melt inside that perfect pussy.”

You whined again, back arching, breath stuttering.

And then he smirked.

“Gonna make you taste like candy,” he whispered, “and then I’m gonna fucking eat you.”

————

Your thighs were shaking.

Sticky.

Syrupy red rivulets sliding down the backs of your legs, soaking into the couch cushions beneath you as the last of the cherry popsicle melted between your folds.

You whined—high and breathy, hips twitching.

“It’s melting, Lex…”

Alex was already on his knees between your thighs, fingers wrapped tight around your thighs, pupils blown, breathing hard.

“I know.”

You looked down at him, wrecked and pink and panting.

“It’s dripping—”

“I know, baby,” he rasped. “I’m fucking watching.”

He reached up, slid his fingers between your folds, and pulled out the mostly-melted popsicle—dripping red and slick and obscene.

Then tossed it to the side like it meant nothing.

And grabbed your thighs.

And devoured you.

His mouth was everywhere—tongue gliding through syrup and slick, sucking your clit into his mouth like he wanted to make it bruise, moaning so low it vibrated through your cunt.

You screamed.

“F-fuck, Alex—”

“You taste so fucking sweet,” he groaned into you. “Like candy. Like cherry—Jesus fucking Christ—”

He licked you deep, tongue plunging inside like he was trying to clean up every single drop the popsicle left behind.

Your fingers dug into his hair.

Your legs clamped around his head.

You were gasping, writhing, moaning so high and broken it barely sounded like words.

“Lex—Lexi, fuck, I’m gonna—gonna—”

He sucked on your clit again and your whole body snapped—back arching, thighs trembling, hips grinding into his face while he held you down and ate you through it.

And even when you came, even when you were shaking, he didn’t stop.

He moaned against your dripping pussy like he was addicted.

You could barely speak.

You could only whimper:

“Cherry…”

He pulled back just enough to grin against your thigh—lips red, chin slick, eyes feral.

“You’re my favorite flavor now.”

Having a boyfriend with strict parents is so weird like

"Yeah, so do you have a phone?"

"Nah, only the slides." (Referring to the Google slides shared in the friend group)

"Oh, yeah, you get off so earlier though?"

"Yeah my bedtime is 7:30"

Like... oopsies forgot you had that, but like WHY CANT YOU AT LEAST TALK TO ME PAST 8 PM PLEEEASDEEEEEJSHSHAJDBAJFBAIFBEWJAJABDHJSBAJADJANWIDBEIFBAJEBRUZNWKDBAJDHABDHSU

kala

let me be perfectly clear

petition to make this ^ be the hugging emoji. you are not just a person standing behind me. You are my friend.

🫂

reblog to sign the petition

Fun fact: I’m autistic I’m gonna do a thing inspired by another person

Reblog if your blog is safe for autistic people or is ran by an autistic person!

oh and

Reblog if you stand against Autism Speaks!

Okay seriously. Reblog if you're OLDER than 11.

Yep.