#but I have a ton of time to think tomorrow so I'll rotate this around my brain

[thecranewivesrpf]

dollface parents imp and skizz, they won't leave my brain

[zweiginator]

being in an established relationship with Patrick and just feeling afraid he may be cheating like on tour. he gets very upset when he finds out and fucks the nonsense out of you

knowing his past before he met you. he had a new girl on his arm every week--usually a pretty tennis player. it made sense for them to be together. but it was a neverending rotation of pretty, perfect girls.

so when patrick goes away on tour, those pangs of worry and insecurity come up. you can't help it; your boyfriend is tall and gorgeous, a great athlete. you wouldn't blame girls for hitting on him. what if he just happened to omit the fact that he has a girlfriend. maybe it would be easy for him, with you across the country. maybe he could justify it, convince himself it's no big deal, that you never have to know.

and one day, the day before patrick is due back home for a few weeks--your insecurities boil over. he had been so busy, too busy to call as often as he had promised. and this all manifested in maladaptive daydreams for you--ones filled with patrick schmoozing up pretty girls, buying them drinks, taking them back to his hotel rooms.

patrick calls you at 7:30 that night.

"hi." you answer after the first ring.

"hey, how are you doing sweetheart?"

and for some reason, the nickname makes you tick. "sweetheart?"

patrick clicks his tongue. "are you mad at me or something?"

"you didn't call me the last few days."

patrick switches the phone to his other hand. "yeah, i'm sorry. it's been really hectic. i miss you. just talk to me."

"i miss you too." a sigh. "but i'm worried."

"about what?"

"there are tons of beautiful women at these tournaments. i see them on tv."

"so?" he's not defensive, but clearly offended by what you're insinuating.

"so."

"so you think i'm cheating on you? that's fuckin' ridiculous. i call you to talk to you and you pick a bullshit fight?"

"right, okay. well i'll leave you be then. good luck at your tournament tomorrow." you hang up. it's petty and stupid and you want to call him back but you don't. and you lay in your room until the next day, when patrick is set to get home. you expect him to go to his own house but he bangs on your door, his duffle bag slung over his shoulder.

you open the door. patrick doesn't falter. he doesn't say a word. he just lets the bag slump onto the ground and he backs you into the living room, onto the couch after he shuts the door.

"c'mere." he's manhandling you, yanking your body down the length of the couch as he pulls his shorts down and tears his shirt off. "mm." he caresses your cheek. "changed my mind i want you on your stomach." he taps your hip to prompt you to move.

and he pulls your little pajama shorts and panties to the side, lifting your hips up. you lean into his touch, pushing your cunt against his erection.

"think i'm fucking cheating on you?" his cockhead pushes into your entrance and you mewl. your pussy strangles his cock and he throws his head back. his fingers dig into your ass, pushing himself all the way in. "why would i --" a hard thrust. "fuckin' cheat on you--" another one, a gasp from both of you. "when you have the best little pussy i've ever had." you reach back to grasp onto his wrists as he slams into you. the couch moves with his movements, scratches against the floor. you can't find it in you to care, because patrick leans his chest against your back and kisses your neck, saying something to you he never has before. but the time feels right, with you right where he wants you. "plus--" a hand snakes around your throat. "i love you so fucking much." his voice becomes strangled and high-pitched. your cunt squeezes him harder. you cant find it in yourself to say anything, too fucked out and drowning in pleasure. but patrick knows by the way you moan his name that you're saying it back.