#guess what I've been playing again lately

[nakylvr]

— BACK TO ME

daniela avanzini x fem!reader

summary જ⁀➴ after an argument breaks out and hurtful things are thrown, you leave for a few days, and daniela realizes just how much she needs you

warnings/tags જ⁀➴ angst with happy ending, language, established relationship, dealer!dani au, arguments

now playing જ⁀➴ back to me by the rose

things had been straining recently. with tax season coming up you spent most of your days after work trying to figure out how to not get completely fucked over and get a ton of money taken out. you also got promoted at your job, which was both a blessing and a curse. more money was always a good thing, but your patience was already wearing thin when the argument started.

you had just gotten home, wanting nothing more than to relax when you realized daniela wasn't in the apartment. too tired, you shrug it off and lay down on the couch, still in your work clothes, not bothering to change. you ended up falling asleep faster than you anticipated.

when the front door opened, it was dark outside. you could hear it, but you couldn't find it in you to get up.

"yn?" daniela's voice is heard quietly. "what are you doing on the couch?"

you hum, opening your eyes groggily and looking up at her. "where were you?" you mumble.

"had to run out real quick," she answers. "come on, let's go to bed."

"for hours?" you say before you can think.

daniela's expression changes at your words, but you don't notice past the dark in the room. "i needed to do some stuff," she responds. "i'm sorry." she doesn't know why she's saying it. most likely out of fear that this conversation will spiral out of control after all the bullshit that happened earlier in the year. she doesn't want a fight right now, and she's trying to keep it from happening.

"who were you with?" you ask, slowly sitting up.

"minji," daniela answers truthfully. "she needed some help getting a gift for hanni, then she came with me for a deal that i had to do on the way back."

your eyebrows furrowed together, looking back at her. "you let her go along with you?" you inquired.

"yeah?" dani replies, but it comes out unsure. "i knew you were getting off work late and i didn't want to bother you."

"but you let minji go with you?" you press. "you told me i was the only one."

"well, yes. but minji's my close friend, i–"

"didn't see anything wrong with it?" you cut her off. "cause it looks a little weird when all your clients know me and then you show up with some other girl that's not me? let me guess, you saw keeho?"

"how did you–" daniela gets cut off again by you talking over her.

"he texted me," you tell her. "asking, and i quote 'who this random chick' is with you instead of me. so it's not just me thinking i'm crazy."

"i didn't say you were crazy," daniela quickly says, shaking her head. "baby, please, this isn't that serious. you know minji."

"but other people don't," you respond. "what if it wasn't keeho?"

"i-" daniela stops herself, taking a breath. "this is the only time i've brought someone other than you."

"but why?" you stand up from the couch, making daniela take a few steps backwards. "you're the one who tells me that you don't let anyone go because you don't want them to see, but minji is just a different story or something?"

"it's one time!" daniela says, her voice raising slightly. "why does it matter?"

"why does it matter?" you repeat. "you tell me, daniela. you tell me." you cross your arms over your chest.

daniela is quiet for a minute, trying to think of the right thing to say to not upset you more. "i know what you're thinking, but this isn't a big deal. i let her come along because it was keeho. nothing else, no other reason," she tells you. "i promise."

"not a big deal, you keep saying that," your voice turns sharp. "what's not a big deal? that i'm reasonably concerned when you're out hours past when i got back and tell me you were doing some stuff, helping minji get a gift for hanni, and do a deal? because those are multiple different answers."

"oh my god," daniela mumbles, looking around before back at you. "yn, seriously, it's nothing."

"give me your phone," you demand.

"what?" she looks at you confused.

"consider this a phone check. give it to me." you hold your hand out.

"you're serious?" daniela asks. when you don't answer, just stare at her, she pulls her phone out of her pocket and hands it to you. "jesus christ," she grumbles under her breath, crossing her arms over her chest.

looking through the recent messages, your fingers hover over one specifically, and when you glance up from the phone to look at daniela, she feels her heart drop to her stomach at the expression on your face.

"so what? you have clients wanting to get you shit for valentines day? is that the excuse you're going to give?" you say seriously, tilting your head to the side.

"what?" daniela lets out. "no one has–"

"what's this about then?" you hold the phone towards her, showing a thread of messages.

"that's jaehyun!" daniela exclaims, throwing her hands up in the air. "he's my friend!"

"and you know i don't like how close he is with you!" you retort, your voice raising. "every time we go to his place it's like i don't even exist! he's obviously hitting on you!"

"he literally isn't! he's gay!" daniela scoffs, shaking her head. "plus, he literally has a boyfriend!"

"well that didn't stop you the first time, did it?" the words come out faster than you could think.

"right," daniela scoffs again, nodding her head. "right, because it's always my fault, isn't it? i'm always the one fucking up, right?"

"yeah!" you nod. "you're the one who says you can pull anyone, and then you act like i'm fucking crazy when people are all over you and i don't like it! like it's not right for me to feel upset even though i'm your girlfriend!"

"i've never called you crazy! when have i once said that?!" daniela's voice starts getting louder, nearing the edge of yelling.

"but you look at me like it!" you end up yelling first. "like-like it's a problem that i get jealous! you're allowed to have your hands all over me when i'm with my friends when you're jealous but when you have three different girls who give you thousands of dollars each month all over you it's weird when i get defensive and jealous!? that's not fair, daniela!"

"so what? i'm supposed to just sit there while girls eye-fuck you or try to get all close?!" daniela retorts. "you don't even know! you're so fuckin' naive that you think everyone just wants to be friends!"

"naive? i'm naive?" you let out a laugh, shaking your head. "right, sorry for being nice enough to make friends who don't just want to fuck me for some shit!"

"they still want to fuck you!" daniela yells. "look at sophia! you ran to her when shit got hard and look what happened! who's telling me that you won't go run off to some other 'friend' of yours only for them to fuck you while you were still mine!"

you stop once sophia's name is spoken. daniela knew better than to bring her up after the events that happened, knowing how much you regretted your stupid decision and how bad you felt about it afterwards. but in the heat of the argument, the second the words leave daniela's mouth you're standing there in silence.

"you know what," you eventually speak up. "maybe i will."

"will what?" daniela asks, seemingly not realizing what she said and how you took it.

you shake your head, letting out a scoff. you toss her phone on the couch and walk into the bedroom, not saying another word.

"yn?" daniela sighs. "yn! what are you doing?"

a few minutes later you walk back out with a bag in your hands, making daniela's eyes go wide.

"what're you doing?" she asks.

"i'm going to jungwon's for the night," you answer simply. "or, the rest of the night, i guess."

"what?" daniela looks at you confused. "why?"

you stare at her with a deadpan expression, waiting to see if she'll notice what she said. when she clearly doesn't, you shake your head again. "because he's a friend who won't fuck me while i'm still yours. those are your words," you tell her before starting to walk to the front door.

your words make daniela realize what she said, and she immediately starts following after you to the door. "yn? yn, baby, don't be like this! i didn't mean to bring her up!"

"but you did." you swiftly turn around, causing her to abruptly stop. "you did even though we talked about it and you knew how fucked up i felt afterwards. but if this is what comes out of your mouth when we argue, then i know you're still pissed about it. so, i'm leaving for the night, or maybe a few days, i don't know." you shrug. "i know i fucked up with what i did. i regret it. but you told me it was okay. when apparently it isn't if you're bringing it up. so while i'm gone, you think about what you want, daniela. because you are on thin ice, and it's cracking. so figure it the fuck out."

you leave the apartment before daniela can get a word out, the door slamming behind you echoing through the place. she stands there for a few minutes, waiting to hear you come back, but you never do.

"god damnit," she sighs, dragging her hands over her face.

the whole remainder of the night daniela kept texting you, telling you to come back, that she was sorry and didn't mean it. but, that's how she always was whenever you two fought. and you were tired of everything right now.

when you got to jungwon's, he was surprised to see you, but when you explained the situation he immediately brought you inside and talked with you about the whole thing. he was always good with comforting others and advice. plus, he could tell you were straining yourself recently.

while daniela sat inside the apartment, moping around waiting for you to come back, still texting you as the day passed and you didn't return or respond. she knew you were upset with what she said, that was obvious. and she couldn't lie and say that the event didn't gnaw at her every fiber since she found out, even if sophia got what she deserved in the end, because it did. she knew it shouldn't. that it was a moment of vulnerability for you, that you had no one else to go to. it all spirals back to her regretting what she did in the first place to start it all.

for the whole day daniela thought of what to do, how to fix this. she sat on the couch for hours thinking of what will make you not mad at her anymore. when she got an idea.

it was day three and you still weren't responding, so daniela took matters into her own hands and texting jungwon asking if you were there. he answered truthfully, saying that he wanted her to figure it out with you so he was trying to help the most he could. so she drove over to his place.

standing in front of the door, daniela shifts her weight from one foot to the other anxiously, biting her lip in hopes that this would work. the door opens and jungwon is revealed, who smiles at her.

"hey, dani," he says. "she's in the guest room."

"thanks," daniela replies, walking past him when he opens the door wider for her.

approaching the guest room, daniela knocks on the door a few times, hearing you hum on the other end. she slowly opens the door, making you turn and see it was her. your expression hardens, and dani notices, knowing she's still in deep shit.

"hey," she says awkwardly, pulling the flowers from behind her back. "i got you these." she holds them out, looking at the ground.

you can't help the way your eyes soften at the tone in her voice, quiet and hesitant compared to the confident loudness you were used to. she looks like a kicked puppy staring at the ground, and you let out a short sigh before getting off the bed, walking over to her and taking the bouquet from her.

"i'm sorry for what i said," daniela mumbles. "i didn't mean to say it i just...i still think about it sometimes and i don't know why. i know you didn't do it to hurt me on purpose but sometimes i...i worry that you're going to leave once you realize i'm not the best for you."

her words shock you as she still stares at the ground, finally speaking the thoughts that had been eating her up inside. "dani..."

"i-i know i'm not the best," she quickly adds. "i know you can find someone who will treat you better like it's nothing. but i don't– i can't lose you. i love you so much, so fucking much, and it scares me so much when we fight because i know every time it's another tick gone and that eventually you'll get tired of me and leave. i don't want you to leave. we fight, we have our ups and downs, but you always stay. you always stay and i know one day y-you won't." daniela's voice cracks at the end, tears filling her eyes the longer she talks. "i'm sorry." a few tears fall.

carefully setting the flowers on the bed, you take another step towards her and cup her face in your hands, making her look at you finally. "it's okay," you tell her softly. "you're right, i always stay. i always stay because i love you. i wouldn't if i didn't. dani, i don't think you know that you are the best relationship i've had. all of the other ones ended like shit. you prove to me time and time again that even if you fuck up, you own up to it and you don't run away. i won't ever get tired of you, i promise." you wipe away the tears falling from her eyes. "i love you, and i love the flowers. you always know what to get me."

"i try," daniela responds quietly, nodding slightly.

"i know." you nod. "and i love that about you." you lean in, pressing a soft kiss against her lips.

parting from the kiss, daniela's arms snake around your waist and pull you close to her as she puts her face in the crook of your neck. "i love you," she murmurs against your skin.

"i love you too," you reply, petting her head gently.

[sweetbillwriting]

Way Out of Line

SEVEN

Character: Keith Toshko from Barbarian (2022) played by Bill Skarsgård.

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, heavy themes.

My family and I had gone to Aspen since I was seven. My dad's practice went well, and we had recently bought the house we lived in now; the one before had been much more modest. I had never seen myself belonging to a class; for me, my family was just an ordinary family, but after I had started college, I had realized what a safe environment I came from. Jason and I were given trips, expensive clothes, and had done the activities we wanted since we were kids. I started to go to the hairdresser every fourth week when I was twelve. For me, money wasn't that big of an issue and probably why I didn't react that much to the news that Keith was rich. The only thing I could think was that it might be easier to get my parents to accept us as a couple if he could give me economic security, but otherwise I just thought about his divorce. It wouldn't be easy for him to become a single man.

The thought of his divorce was what destroyed the trip for me because I couldn't really enjoy the present. The only thing I could enjoy were our late-night conversations and what he had taught me. He was the one teaching me how to masturbate. My finger transformed to his during our conversations and also his cock, even if my fingers were much smaller.

“I’ve gotten something for you. When you come home, your dad will receive a package for me that he will put in my bedroom, but then you can get it.”

I looked at him with a small smile, believing it would be jewelry or maybe a dress, now that I knew he had money. He sat with a bare chest against a white wall with some fluffy brown pillows behind him. I sat naked on the bed of my hotel room, tired after having two orgasms.

“What is it?”

“It's a dildo,” he said with a smirk. Just the word made me blush but another feeling followed. Was it disgust? I couldn't tell, but it obviously showed on my face because Keith laughed.

“Baby, it's nothing weird. Especially not when I work like I do. I will be away like this again, and I think you need a better replacement for me than your small hands. It will hurt again when I come home otherwise.”

I didn't say anything because I only thought about the plastic manhood and felt the weird feeling spread through my chest. It was one thing to call him daddy and show my naked body on Snapchat, but receiving a sex toy? Even if I didn't know if I believed in Jesus, I could feel him judging me from above.

“It's classy, I promise. And pink.”

I swallowed hard because to me his cock was also pink, and even if I had learned to appreciate his cock’s appearance, I didn't need a plastic replica in my nightstand drawer.

“And it's smaller, so it will be kinder than me,” he joked, even if he always was kind when we had any form of sex.

“Okay…” I said with an exhalation, prepared to give it a chance. I could look at it first. Keith smiled sweetly.

“There is also lube and handcuffs in there.”

“Keith!” I said now with rose-red cheeks that made him laugh.

“What? Come on, baby girl, it's nothing. It's just for fun, but we don't have to do anything. I guess… You just make me so fucking horny. The pictures of you… I look at them so much it's unhealthy. I've just parked somewhere to jerk off sometimes and…” He dragged his hands through his hair like he was embarrassed, and I laughed at his awkward body language. He looked so sweet when he looked all uncomfortable, but he was dirty under that sweet persona.

I could see how his eyes fell to my naked breasts again, and without looking up, he corrected his phone and how he sat so I could see that impressive erection lay against his belly. I giggled, and he smirked and dragged his hand over his shaft.

“What is it, princess?” He said with a smirk. “Are you laughing at Daddy?”

“No, Daddy,” I giggled and bit my thumb, attractively.

“Otherwise, I must spank you even more when I come home.”

“Even more?”

“Yes, you’ll be punished for not accompanying me to Detroit.”

“You never asked!”

“You should have asked, so this is your fault, baby girl. Daddy shouldn't need to do all the work.”

He smirked teasingly, and I scoffed, amused at him.

“Can you get on all fours over your phone so I can see if you're wet for Daddy?”

I blushed again. It was obvious he liked it when I became embarrassed and felt challenged, but as I was told. I always did what he wanted because I realized I liked it too. I liked the power he had over me and how he made me feel small but sexy.

He told me to touch myself, and I could hear him jerk off even if I couldn't see him. Just that was a turn-on. I knew he probably took some screenshots too, because he always did. He was a dirty old man who jerked off in his car between house showings, but I liked it, and I sent him more photos without him even asking. He liked close up videos of me masturbating but he also liked innocent photos of me pouting in discontent. He liked when I woke him up with a sweet message or sent him a video of me doing my makeup.

I wondered if he was in love with me, if he thought about me as much as I thought about him. It did seem like it because every night he called me when he was away. He did the last week he was away too.

“So what, you share a house with that girl now? I asked on the phone. He hadn't video called me that night but voice called me instead in a hushed tone, probably so the girl wouldn't hear him.

The Airbnb he stayed in had been double booked, and because of some conference in Detroit, neither of them could find another place to stay. He told me the girl was probably a few years younger than him and was quite nervous in his presence. I couldn't understand why; Keith was the sweetest man.

“But like… Where will you sleep?” I asked carefully.

“On the couch. I can't let a woman stay on the couch, my mom taught me better,” he joked, and I made an amused sound even if I was worried.

“Where is she now?”

“She’s in the bathroom.”

I swallowed hard. I was Keith's mistress; could he cheat on me too? He had an easy chance now, in another town, living with some girl without a connection to him, his wife, or me.

“Is she pretty?” I asked with a dry, nervous voice.

“Baby…” he said with a sigh.

“Please just answer. Is she pretty?”

Keith was silent on the line a few too many seconds, and that really said it all to me, but he still answered.

“I guess she is, but…” he sighed again.

I had no idea how Keith was towards other women. He was a sweet, good-looking guy. Tall and manly. I didn't even know if he needed to be any certain way to get women's attention, but I still wondered if he was the flirty kind. He had caught me on his hook so easily even when I had considered myself elusive.

“So what are you doing, baby girl?” He tried to change the subject; it was painfully obvious, but I let him. I didn't know what more I could say on the subject.

“I’m just watching a series.”

He tried to get me to talk about the series, but our conversation died quite quickly. I noticed by the questions he asked that he prepared himself to hang up.

“I will never forgive you if you sleep with her!”

The words suddenly burst from me, right before we would say goodbye.

“I will not sleep with her.” He sighed, and I could hear irritation in his voice.

“Yes, you will! I know you will! Look what you're doing to me! My dad is your best friend!”

I was a crying desperate mess, spilling out my fears on him.

“How can I trust you?!”

Keith was silent on the line until I heard a low, unamused laugh.

“Ohh… Wow! I think it's time for us to hang up here… I need a drink. I… I’ll see you around.”

“Keith… Daddy…” I whined. I said the pet name in an attempt to gain his attention, but he gave me a low goodbye before hanging up. I looked at the phone in my hand, now crying silently to myself. Why did I say all that? I hadn't even so much as thought about how our relationship could tell you about him as a person. Now, it clearly came up as soon as I felt unsure about him.

I thought about calling him back, but something told me Keith wasn't the person who would see that as a type of love language; he would just see it as annoying. Instead, I wrote a message on Snapchat:

I'm sorry for what I said. I didn't mean it, and I trust you. Please just call tomorrow or something. I really like you, Keith.

He opened it but didn't answer.

×××

Dad stood by the entrance door with the anonymous brown package in his hands. He casually chatted with the delivery guy and dropped the package to his side. I had heard him say it was to Keith Toshko, so I knew what my dad held in his hand, while he didn't have a clue. He closed the door when the delivery guy turned his back on him and then looked down on the package. It was as big as a small shoebox, and he could easily hold it in one hand. I stood by the stairs, having paused in my steps after hearing the delivery guy say Keith's name. My dad looked at me, looked again at the box, then stretched his arms out towards me.

“Can you put this on Jason's bed for Keith?” I looked at the box like he gave me a loaded weapon and put my hands behind my back, afraid to even touch it. It was no longer for me, but it was still meant to be for me.

“Why can't you do it?” I asked with a small voice. My dad furrowed his brows.

“Sure, I can. I just thought you were on your way up?”

“I must study.” I said it shortly and ran up the stairs without looking back at him. It felt like he would be able to see by me or the box that we belonged together if we were in the same room for too long. It wasn't a realistic thought, but in my world of sadness, secrets, and lies, it was. I had already lost Keith, so now I would do everything to be my dad's little girl again.

×××

I stared at the book lying on the pillow in my lap. The letters could have been Chinese letters because I couldn't understand them anyway. I just thought about mine and Keith's conversation from the day before. I regretted it so hard that I had even asked him about the girl he had to share a space with. I should have just pretended I didn't care at all, like it was just normal that he would share a house with a girl he didn't know, but every emotion in my body became hard to control, and I could feel emotions I had never felt before flying around my heart. I couldn't even name them or differentiate them. It just felt like some sort of creature had started to chew inside of me, on every organ, and wanted to break free.

Of all of the feelings, I could differentiate two, though: two feelings I often felt with Keith: curiosity and horniness. I want to look through that package. I wanted to see what he wanted us to explore. He had thought about us when he ordered it. Because he wanted to be with me.

I tried to continue to read in my book about 1800th-century English but let it glide down from the pillow in disinterest. I needed to get the package. Keith had said I should do that, so carefully I sneaked down the hallway to Jason's room and opened the door slowly. Mom had cleaned it since Keith had left it, made the bed with new sheets, and left the few items Keith had forgotten on the dresser (a pair of black socks, AirPods, and a pack of cigarettes), but there wasn't a box on the bed as I had suspected. I walked into the room and looked around confused until I saw the box behind the dresser opened. The panic attacked me quickly, and I almost ran up to the box that really was opened. It was obvious what had happened; my dad had opened it. My dad had opened the box containing his daughter and best friend's sex toys. A numbness spread over my face and hands while I looked into the box. There was just a fuchsia-colored card in it with the company's logo.

It was quite awful of my father to open the box without permission, and I wondered what he would do with the contents. Did I want to know? I hoped he maybe had taken it hostage to bully his friend, but I couldn't stop other thoughts from coming over me. They were thoughts I hadn't even imagined in my wildest fantasy I would have.

I sneaked back to my room again with even more weird feelings, and the creature became even bigger, eating on my lungs. It was just all too much, and there wasn't anyone else to blame but me who had instigated it by showing my breasts to my dad's best friend.

×××

A week later, when I came home from campus on a late afternoon, I could feel another energy as soon as I came into the hallway. I knew he was back. I didn't even take off my outerwear; instead, I stood with my beating heart, waiting for it to come up through my throat.

They couldn't have heard I had came home, or they didn't care because I could hear both my parents and Keith from the living room. My parents laughed at something while Keith made a sound like he was embarrassed.

“But who is she then? You can trust us to not tell anyone,” said my dad curiously.

“It's over now.” Keith was short in his answer but didn't sound irritated.

“Why? Because of the divorce?” Asked my mom.

“We can say it like this: she was far too young.”

My dad made a weird laugh I hadn't heard before, and it sounded like my mom gave him a hit in the chest.

“How young?” He asked. He sounded excited, like he was the one dating a younger woman.

“Far too young. It's hard being with someone who—”

I stomped into the living room, still in my dirty boots and red coat. Keith sat in the white armchair closest to the entrance door with the back towards me. My parents sat on the matching couch with their faces towards me. Keith turned his face and looked straight at me.

“Hey, hey.” He gave me a small smile and a nod. I didn't have the opportunity to register his feelings.

“Honey!” My dad laughed awkwardly. He probably didn't think I should hear what Keith spoke about, and he gave my mom a pointed look.

“We've already eaten, but I saved you a plate.” My mom jumped up from the couch and approached me. “Take off your outerwear and I can warm it for you. It's schnitzel.”

I nodded a little but looked at my dad and the back of Keith's head. My dad still smirked, amused and proud, at Keith, like he was living through him, and my mom probably let him because they had been married for so long. Little did they know it was their daughter Keith talked about. That he got me to call him daddy and take his cock until I was bleeding. I wondered if my dad would smirk if he knew that.

I ate by myself in the dining room and let “the grown-ups” continue to talk, then I went to my room without saying anything to them. I still couldn't grasp my feelings, and hiding felt like the best option, but couldn’t for long because there was knock on my door just after 30 minutes.

“It's me…” said Keith through the door. I held my breath while I thought about what I would do even if I knew what I wanted, but I didn't know if I was ready.

“Come in.”

I sat under the cover, just dressed in panties and one of my many spaghetti tops. The clock was just 7pm, but it looked like I was ready for bed. Keith opened the door but stood at the threshold, dressed in a plaid flannel shirt and gray sweats. His feet were bare even if our floors were so cold.

“Are you okay?” He asked with care, as he walked into the room slowly. I nodded a little, waiting for him to talk because I had no idea what the creature would do if I opened my mouth.

“Good… Ehm… I'm sorry for talking downstairs… I shouldn't have, but your dad kind of found out I was seeing someone.”

Keith was classy to not tell how my father knew, but I knew all too well, but still I just nodded.

“Can I sit down?” Keith pointed at the bed, and I nodded again. He sat down softly on my floral sheets, and he dragged his hand over a pink velvet pillow. He looked around in my room, and I could guess what he was thinking—that I was just a little girl. He licked his plump lips and moved a bit nervously on the edge of the bed.

“I don't want us to end things like enemies. I don't want you to believe I am an asshole…”

“I know you're not,” I finally got out, and he looked at me with kind green eyes.

“But we must end things.” He added but looked at me in the same way. “You're young, and I don't think you're ready to be with someone so much older than you. I will always have women around because that's what a man of my age life looks like. I'm not a college boy.”

My throat had stopped working again even if I wanted to protest.

“I'm in the middle of a divorce. I worked with many different people, and I will not be by your side all the time, and maybe it's best if I move away from here. I don't want to complicate things for you.”

We looked deep into each other's eyes while I still was quiet. Keith swallowed in discomfort but didn't look away; he probably hoped for an answer, but it never came from me. I just tried to control the thing inside of me.

He patted my knee lightly, like some uncle would do, then he stood up.

“I hope we can be friends…” It was the last thing he said before leaving me alone.

×××

I sat by the breakfast table while my parents and Keith ran around the house in panic; I just buttered my bread unbothered even if I was the one that had created the mess. I looked at Keith standing in the hallway, dragging his hands through his slicked-back hair and threading his fingers together on his head. He wore a dark blue knitted sweater over a white button-up and black jeans and looked really dapper, but now he had messed his hair up so much he looked like he had walked through a storm.

“Are you sure you had it in the bathroom?” asked my mom as she nervously looked up at him. She was probably afraid she had by accident tossed it away—his wedding band.

“Yeah, I had put it next to the soap, then I thought I had put it in my toiletry bag, but it's not there,” said Keith, but he sounded quite unengaged, and it was then I realized he looked straight at me.

I looked down at my toast, spreading the orange marmalade over it so it mixed with the butter. I wouldn't say anything, and I knew Keith wouldn't cause a fight in front of my parents; that would expose everything to them. I heard Keith sigh loudly which turned into an irritated grunt. I didn't need to look to know that he was putting on his outerwear.

“I'm really so, so sorry, Keith. I will continue to search for it. It must be here somewhere.”

“We will find it… But May will not be happy…” Said Keith, trying to cover up his irritation. I looked up when I heard him say his wife's name. I couldn't see him anymore because he was behind the wall, but I could see my parents standing in the hallway, looking towards the entrance door where Keith was.

“She probably understands. You haven't worn it for a long time,” my mom tried to offer some assurance, as she walked closer to my dad, probably to get some support.

“Understand I've replaced my wedding ring? I don't think so. We had decided that we would collect all things of value to put in the safety box until we know how we will share it, and then I’ll come and say I can't find my wedding ring? She will not like it…” Keith sounded stressed, and I could see my parents felt the same thing while they looked at him.

“I think she will understand,” tried my mom again while my dad nodded.

Keith was silent, and even I could understand his annoyance, even if I was the thief. His ring still lay in my toiletry bag, and I would let it lie there for a while. I liked the thought of Keith's wife being really mad at him and him suffering. Even if Keith had let me go really nicely, I was still mad at him, but also, by holding on to that ring, it felt like I had some sort of effect on their divorce and that I wasn't as powerless as I had felt before. It felt like I could cause them to not get along and that Keith would never look at her again. Until I felt I didn't need that power anymore, I would give the ring back, but then and there I liked the power I had too much. Keith left as smoothly and silently as he did most things in life, but I knew he was irritated and that he had started to suspect me as the thief, but I would let him come and try to get it back if he dared.

×××

I hoped he would suspect me. I hoped he would suspect me so hard he felt forced to talk to me. I couldn't say why, but the thought of him being a bit mad at me turned me on even if I had lost him and he might just be angry at me for real. It was like anger was better than not getting any attention from him at all.

I got what I wanted because the next day when I came home, he leaned against the doorframe to the living room, and it looked like he was waiting for me. His hands were pushed down deep in the front pockets of his medium blue jeans, and his feet were bare. He wore just a simple black tee and looked relaxed with his hair messily styled back.

“Hey…” he said, dragging out the word so I understood he wanted to say something. I gave him a look but played nonchalant and took off my boots and my coat. I wore that little pink skirt he had commented on once before, and I could see he gave it a fast look.

“Can we talk? We're alone…” He stood up to his full height and made a lazy nod towards the living room.

“Why?” I asked with some attitude. I wanted to annoy him; I wanted to get some other feeling out of him other than that sweet, collected Keith he showed to the rest of the world.

“I was just wondering about something,” he said, just as nicely, and messed with a cuticle on his thumb.

“Then ask,” I said with a shoulder shrug.

Keith looked at me with big eyes, but they turned annoyed, and he looked away with a sour expression.

“Can we just sit down and talk like two grown-ups?”

“Grown-ups?” I said annoyed. “I thought I was just a little girl! Too young for everything!” I crossed my arms but still stood there, just welcoming a fight.

“For fuck's sake, Jaqueline…” Keith muttered and scratched his forehead. “I was just wondering if you've seen my wedding ring.”

I looked at him sourly, but I could see how he knew I was the one who had taken it, but he wanted me to say it myself, the same way you could teach kids to be ashamed. I felt ashamed when I looked at him because I couldn't really say why I had taken it. It was a childish act, but I didn't want to say to him how childish I actually was.

“I don't know. Maybe you have dropped it?”

“I haven't worn it since Christmas, and you know that too.”

I looked away like I didn't care, still with my arm crossed. Keith sighed but moved closer to me, so close I could smell his scent and needed to curl my neck in a C motion to see him.

“I’ll ask again…” His voice had changed. It was much darker and heavy, and I looked at him with an emotion similar to fear. “Have you seen it?”

He looked at me straight in the eyes, and I couldn't look away. His eyes were mesmerizing, big and hypnotic like the cat in Alice in Wonderland.

“I… I…” I stuttered and felt myself swaying on weak legs. I took a hold of his t-shirt just so I wouldn't fall backwards. I wanted to continue to play cool, but I couldn't, and instead I pushed my cheek against his chest and felt my eyes well up.

“I just want you to be mine...!”

I could both feel and hear Keith take a deep breath, then he laid his hand on the back of my head and patted my hair.

“You're jealous.” He said matter-of-factly. The word caused irritation to grow in my chest, and even if a tear fell, I pouted.

“No.”

“Yes, you are. You're a jealous, silly girl that believes every woman around me is your threat.”

“No…” I said but this time it was a bit shameful. I was jealous. I was jealous of his wife, who got to be his for real. I was jealous of that girl he lived with, who he could have done something with if he wanted to because he hadn't promised me anything. I was just the silly girl he could play silly games with.

Keith pulled me away from him, and with his hands on my shoulders, he looked at me. I stood with my eyes down at the ground so he wouldn't see my tears. If I had looked at him, I would have seen him smirking, amused at me, how he loved to make fun of me.

“Say you're jealous,” he teased, but it made me just start to cry more, and he laughed a little and pulled me against his chest again.

“You're so silly…” He laughed a little but bent down to give me a kiss on the nose. I looked up at him with hope it meant he forgave me.

“But you're my little silly baby.” I smiled carefully because I didn't dare to believe he had forgiven me. Keith laughed sweetly again, then gave me a soft kiss so I would understand we were back on it again.

×××

We sat together on the couch in the living room and looked at the ring between his fingers. I had gotten it for him, but to my surprise, he dragged me down the couch to look at it with him.

“I'm not in love with her. It was a long time ago I was in love with her,” said he and looked up at my face but lowered his eyes at the ring again.

“May?” I asked carefully, even if I knew. I had laid one of my legs over his and sat turned towards him, leaning my head against the back of the couch. Keith sat with spread legs, patting my nylon covered leg with his other hand.

“Yeah. May. We met when I was 25. That's a long time ago now…” He looked at me with a sad little smirk. I knew he looked at me that way because of the age. I was eight when he was 25.

“Got married when we were 28. We're the same age. Almost exactly, actually; her birthday is two days after mine…”

I looked down at my hands. Even if he said he wasn't in love with her, I could feel the emotions behind his words, and the jealousy we had talked about before made itself clear again.

“Our marriage died so slowly… I can't even really say what happened between us; it was just… A natural death?” He laughed a little and laid the ring on the coffee table. He turned to me, and when I looked up, I met his kind eyes and a bit of a worried smile.

“You okay?”

He dragged a hand over my thigh soothingly, and I faked a smile. I still felt jealous even if he said he didn't have feelings for her. Keith smiled crookedly and took my hand in his and kissed the inside of my wrist a couple of times. I looked at him with soft eyes and moved closer and closer to him so I could touch his lips with mine and feel my chest pressed up against his.

“I want you to be mine…” I whispered and looked down to see the part of him I knew I had some power over. I laid my hand over his belt, ready to open the thick leather, but he stopped me and laid his hand over mine.

“I know what you want, honey… I get that, but… If she finds out… Ehm… ” He dragged his other hand through his hair, stressed.

“I know about your money.”

I understood why he had such problems ending his sentence because he tried to keep his wealth a secret, but I already knew, so it felt easier for both him and me to just say I knew. “I know about your company and all that.”

Keith gave me a surprised look that transformed to an uncomfortable grimace. He lowered his eyes but nodded a little.

“Yeah… Yeah… She wants money. She would gladly see me cheat so she could get some of my family's money.” He looked up at me and moved closer to me.

“I can't let that happen because it was me who said to my family she and I would have a successful marriage. That we didn't need a prenup. And it's not my money. It's ours, my family's and… Fuck, I can't fuck this up, honey. However much I would like to be with you, I can't fuck this up.”

I understood what he meant but still had a hard time accepting it, so instead I got stuck sitting quietly and looking out over the room. Keith didn't say anything either for a long time until he stretched his arms like it was time for something else.

“Do you have any assignments I should look at?

I turned my eyes to him. At first, I couldn't understand what he was saying but nodded slowly when I finally did and thought about my schoolwork.

“Should I look at it?” He asked, patting my knee carefully. I nodded again and stood up as if I was in a trancelike state. I had too many thoughts, so it felt like it took longer for my brain to process my environment. I started to walk slowly towards the stairs to get my laptop in my room but turned around when my brain finally found what I had been wanting to ask.

“So it's over between us now?”

Keith looked up at me and dragged his hands over his jean-clad thighs.

“Do you want that?”

I gave him a strange look because I couldn't understand why he asked me that.

“I mean…” Keith stood up and approached me closely. It felt like I had forgotten how tall he actually was because I felt so small with him in front of me.

“I can't have a relationship with you, and I can't do anything about how my life looks… But of course I would want us to have our thing…” He smiled carefully and took my hand so he could play with my fingers. “The question is, do you want that? I understand if you feel that isn't fair…”

His eyes were big and full of emotions, and even if I knew the answer, I stood quietly and looked him deep in the eyes. He pulled me closer to his body and laid my hands on his chest.

“Hmm?” He said it like it was a real question, and it made me smile.

“That's okay… I want to—” I searched for the right word but couldn't find it, so in the stress of just talking, it didn't come out as I wanted.

“I want to love and sex with you.”

Keith looked amused when my cheeks grew redder and redder.

“I understand what you mean,” he said with a laugh, and then he leaned down and kissed me, healing everything that had happened before and soothing my embarrassment.

×××

The laptop stood in front of us on the coffee table with my assignment open, but Keith and I were busy making out. He pushed my hand against his crotch and dragged it over his erection harshly. When I started to do it by myself, he pushed me against the back of the couch with my legs up so he could drag his hand over my sex that was concealed under cotton panties and tights. I wished to have him closer but didn't dare to touch him more than over the jeans. Keith was not the shy one, though, and I could feel how his fingers worked between my legs. I thought he tried to just make it nice for me, but then he took a break from our kisses, looked me straight in the eyes, and then with a loud sound, he tore a big hole in the crotch of my tights. My eyes widened to double the size, and Keith smirked evilly while his fingers crept in the hole, moving my white panties to the side.

“Daddy just needs to be a bit closer, baby girl…” He kissed my shoulder while his fingertips dragged through my arousal that increased at every touch. I looked down at his fingers touching me. When he noticed, he was quick to spread me open so I could see my own wetness. Slowly, he pushed in the tip of his middle finger inside me and got me to make a low moan. After just a drag of one finger, he instead pushed three in me. It hurt, causing me to move involuntarily, but he stopped me from moving more.

“Daddy, just needs to stretch it out a bit so you can handle his cock. Your pussy is too tight for me…” he said with a smirk, holding his fingers inside of me. I breathed deeply, my feelings going wild but I never got the chance to answer because both of us heard the front door open.

×××

“Hey?” My mom looked at us in the living room. I had pulled down my skirt, and Keith pulled the laptop onto his lap, but we still sat as close together. She looked at us confused, seeing my leg lying over one of his and my chest pressed against his arm. I just smiled to make it seem normal. Keith had just given her a quick smile before he continued to look through my assignment. He tried to make it seem like he was busy.

“He helps me with the language,” I said to my mom and smiled sweetly, but she didn't smile back. She just looked at us intensely for a long time.

“I think we need to talk, honey.”

×

[whitewingsart]

🙏 Praise The Lamb 🙏

[sleepyconfusedpotato]

a Mishima electric thunder zapped me and boom this KazuJun art just happened I guess.

It's still my dream to play Tekken 8 💀😭 (I'M GETTING THAT PS5)

Does this count as Drawtober? Yes it does.

[milkyberryjsk]

i graduated ^__^

[nyhne]

.

[aberooski]

I love my gx winx au and I love that it's just bits and pieces of me being like oh that's fun and not having any semblance of lore or plot. It's purely contained to the character designs I've drawn for the girls.

[yikes-ajax-thats-sad]

I love waiting eagerly for the weekend so people wont be busy or will be home and then. Still ending up all alone :D

[allbark-no-bite]

good boy.

art donaldson x reader (wc: 2.9k)

summary: as Art’s personal physical therapist, it’s your job to fix what Tashi has torn apart, by whatever means necessary. or in which Art just needs some TLC

warnings: 18+ smut, it could be worse tbh, mentions of disordered eating

author’s note: i’m back ig?? im out of uni for the summer and challengers has me in a chokehold. Art Donaldson the man that you are

————————————————————————

You're standing just within earshot of the doorway, passing a sanitary wipe over one of the tables in the athlete treatment room when you hear the door abruptly open. Tashi storms in with a purpose and Art trails meekly behind her. Even if you had been clueless to how the match had gone rather than on the sidelines beside Tashi not even twenty minutes ago, you could have guessed by the hard line of her mouth that Art was in for it. Not that her displeased scowl was much different from her usual scowl, but you'd been around long enough to know the difference.

She stops abruptly, and Art heels obediently as Tashi turns around to face him. "I need you to tell me when you're going to fucking get it together so that I can stop wasting my time."

Weary and sweat soaked, Art just stares at her with that pitiful look on his face and says nothing in reply. His blue eyes solemnly take in her harsh disappointment as though beyond used to it. At this point it's not all that foreign to you either.

"You may as well be fucking asleep out there," she snaps.

This time his mouth opens. "I- I'm just tired-" he begins, although there's hardly any argue to his voice at all.

"No, I'm tired, Art," Tashi interjects. "Do you have any idea how much fucking work I've put into getting you back onto the court this past year?! I've done everything! The least you could do go out there and try to act like I've done anything for you at all!"

Art swallows, the slight frown on his face deepening. "I am. I just- I don't-"

Before he can even finish his sentence. The open palm of Tashi's hand connects with his cheek as she pops the left side of his face. Art closes his mouth. You pretend to concentrate on wiping down the table. It's not the first time you've witnessed one of these conversations but it still feels private, like you shouldn't be here. You keep wiping the table.

Understanding that anything else he says is only going to make Tashi angrier, Art resigns to once again watching her in silence. His blue eyes are sad. The usually fair skin of his cheek is tinted pink where she popped him. Although it wasn't very hard, you're sure it still hurt him all the same.

"Quit wasting my time," is all she says before she finally turns and leaves, walking right past you and out the other door. You hold your breath as she passes you. Art watches her go but makes no move to follow. You release an audible sigh. It's been a frustrating day for everyone. As Art's personal trainer, physical therapist, and close friend, you felt every loss, every ache and pain, every bad play. And there seemed to be a lot of those lately.

Art is still standing there, watching the closed door that Tashi left though.

Not knowing how to break the silence, you finally pat the freshly sanitized treatment table. "C'mon," you call gently, as though beckoning to a wounded dog.

It takes a moment for him to budge, but eventually he does, his disheartened spirit apparent in the way he walks over. Used to the usual routine, he tugs his damp shirt off over his head as he takes a seat, the lean muscles of his torso flexing as he does so. You allow yourself to ogle at him, only for a brief moment before stepping in between the bracket of his knees. Gently, you cradle his chin, tipping his head back to look up at you as your thumb smooths over the redness of his cheek. His blue eyes blink up at you, sad and dog-like.

"It wasn't terrible," you reassure him. "You had surgery six months ago. You're still getting your feet back underneath you. Most people wouldn't have come back." You're right. The still-pink scars on his shoulder are still fresh on your mind. The stitches weren't even out before Tashi had him in physical therapy. Even though his medical team had released him, it was still a bit early to start doing rehab so soon after surgery, Art's comfort being your biggest concern. But when Tashi wants something, she gets it.

Wordlessly, Art sighs, the weight of his head settling into your palm as he finally lets go of the tension he'd been carrying. It was always like this. You fixing what Tashi had torn apart. You understood where Tashi was coming from. Art needed a firm voice in his training, and you had a lot of respect for the way she put her foot down and never let up, not even once. But there was only so many times you could kick a dog while he was down.

So if Art needed someone to coddle him, you would coddle him.

He trusts you. He needs you, is what Tashi had told you when she asked you to stay on as his trainer full time. The three of you had been in the same year at Stanford all those years ago, Tashi and Art on the tennis team and you helping out as a student trainer as part of a class requirement. Three peas in a pod, the trio of you were. Of course then they both graduated, leaving you to finish up your schooling, meanwhile Art set off to go pro.

A few years later, once Tashi officially took on the position as Art's coach, she began building his team, and that's where you came in. You were hesitant at first.

'I already lost to you once, Tashi. I won't come in second to you again.'

She had paused on the other end of the line. Back in your Stanford days, it was obvious to anyone with eyes that you were head over heels in love with the blonde tennis player. But loving Art was like accepting the participation ribbon for a game you knew you weren't going to win in the first place. It was like standing next to the podium, just lucky enough to be included in the picture while Tashi and tennis took first and second place. And so you let him go.

'I'm not asking you to. This is different.'

Your hand slips from his face, and he forces his eyes open.

“Have you eaten?" you ask, stepping away in order to put some distance between the two of you and look for the granola bars that you keep especially for him. The gels were good sources of quick fuel in between sets, but they were hardly enough to even begin to make up for the calories he burned while playing.

Slowly, Art shakes his head, but he makes no move to take the snack from your hand when you offer it to him. Ever since his injury, nutrition became all the more important. So much to the point that every single thing that he consumed was mapped out to the exact calorie. Although he would never admit it, any sort of change in this routine made him incredibly anxious. Some days it was better not to cause him the anxiety than to force him.

Today, you insistently hold out the bar until he begrudgingly takes it from your hand. You don't move until you've seen him tear open the package and take a bite.

"Were you still feeling tight?" you ask as you walk around the table, stopping at the slouch of his turned back. You reach out to grasp at the joint of his neck and shoulder, your thumb smoothing over the kinesiology tape that's peeling away at the base of his neck.

He half turns his head to glance back at you. "You watched the match. You tell me."

His response is meant to be snippy, but it comes out more defeated than anything. To be fair, you've been his trainer long enough to know that if something was bothering him physically, you would have picked up on it.

"I want to hear it from you."

"I felt fine."

Your left hand follows suit on the other side of his neck, and you use both of your thumbs to apply pressure to what you assume will be a tense spot along the upper part of his traps. Predictably, Art groans at the attention. The muscles of his back contract as he fights the urge to shake you off. Relaxing the muscle hurts as much as it feels good. Besides his obvious discomfort, the rest of his body has gone lax under your touch. His shoulders have dropped at least an inch, and his chin has fallen to rest against his chest.

"Finish your granola bar," you reprimand him, your firm fingers working across his back until you find another spot that nearly has him jerking away. He releases a whine but obediently takes another bite of the bar. This time he finishes it before you have to remind him again.

You spend a few more minutes torturing him before you're satisfied that a majority of the tension has left his shoulders.

"Okay, good boy," you murmur, leaning forward so that your chest is close enough to brush against his back. One of your hands trails up to squeeze the back of his neck reassuringly.

You're close enough to hear him swallow at the name. The skin on the nape of his neck shivers despite how hot he still is from the match.

"Was I?" he asks timidly. "Good today?"

'I can be his coach. Or I can be the person he cries to after a bad day. But I can't be both. That's why he needs you."

Without removing your hand from his neck, you walk around the table so you're standing in front of him. Art widens the spread of his legs so that you can stand between them. His chin is still pressed to his chest, blue eyes focused on the ground.

"Art," is all you say, shifting your grip on his neck to tug lightly at his golden blonde hair. At your voice, he lifts his head just enough to look up at you through the pale wisps of his eyelashes. The irises of his blue eyes shine are wet with uncertainty.

Your fingers loosen their grip to allow your nails to scratch at his scalp. "You're good, Art. You'll always be good."

Art twists his head to nuzzle his cheek along the inside of  your outstretched arm. His lips kiss the crook of your elbow. He swallows again. "Even if I don't play tennis?"

You can tell the question's been bothering him, eating at his nerves, and messing up his game. You know him well enough to know that retirement isn't what he wants, not really. At least not right now. What he wants is the reassurance that it's going to be okay if he can't swing the comeback.

"Look at me."

He lingers a moment longer with his lips pressed lovingly against your skin before he reluctantly shifts his gaze up to you. His look is anticipatory but reserved, as if to preemptively conceal his disappointment should you choose to crush his heart with your answer.

His fear is understandable. Art's relationship with Tashi has always been entirely built off of his tennis career. By being the driving force behind his success, Tashi has vicariously lived out the life she would have had had her injury never happened. Without tennis, Art has nothing left to offer her. He knows that if he gives up tennis, he loses Tashi.

Your relationship with Art was a little less conditional. Hell, you'd been in love with him since the first time you'd laid eyes on him at Stanford. You can still picture him standing there on the court, barely nineteen, scrawny, nervous smile, backwards cap over his strawberry blonde hair. Before he was the Art Donaldson. But when Tashi had stepped into the picture, you figured that was where your fairytale ended.

"I don't love you because of tennis. I love you because you're kind, and thoughtful, and you're passionate about what you do." You smile a bit before adding, "And you're my good boy."

The name turns him bashful again, and he's quick to turn and hide his smiling face against your arm, only the flushed tips of his ears visible. "[Y/n]," he mumbles, likely meaning to be threatening, but it doesn't come out that way.

Art Donaldson lived to be praised.

You laugh, pulling him closer so that his face is held against your chest. The hand that you don't have threaded through his hair trails up the muscle of his defined quad. "You're my good boy. Aren't you, baby?"

Art whines, squirming when your hand reaches the apex of his thigh and hovers over the forming bugle of his shorts. He's not quite there yet, his dick only half chubbed up in interest, but given the day that he's had, you won't make him wait.

"Please?" he mumbles, his face still buried into your collarbone, as if attempting to curling into you, like a small child needing their parent to hold them for comfort.

You rake your nails lightly up the inside of his thigh. "What, baby?"

Not only did Art liked to be praised, but he was masochist even on his worst days.

"Want you to touch me," he mumbles, his voice muffled by your shirt. "Please."

Your hand still scratching through his hair, you press a kiss to the side of his head, unable to suppress your smile at his timid politeness and how it never seems to fail him. The only time he ever resembled anything remotely voracious was on the court.

Palm finding his tented shorts, you cup him through the fabric. Art responds immediately to your touch, his hips shifting further into your grasp. You continue to pet him through his shorts, appreciating the way you can feel him actively responding to your touch.

His nails dig into the padding of the treatment table when you give his now fully hard dick a less than sympathetic squeeze. His breath is hot as he pants against your collarbone, alternating between laving open mouthed kisses to your skin and whining when you pause fondling him just to feel his hips rut up into your palm.

Art was so in control on the tennis court, that often after a match, putting the control into someone else's hands was just what he needed.

When his hips start to stutter, you ease up but continue to stroke him through his shorts. The front of his shorts are damp with the musk of residual sweat and precum.

His breath is shallow—anticipatory.

"Gunna come?" you ask softly, speaking into the blonde mess of his hair, cradling him. He right there, you can tell by the lackluster buck of his hips, his building fatigue, and the change in his breathing.

"Can I? —Please?" Art asks breathily. He hiccups out the last part, his voice catching.

"You know you don't have to ask."

There's a brief pause, as if coming to the realization, before he meekly murmurs, "I know.

It should be sad really, his unwavering obedience, but there are two sides to Art, two polar extremes. On the court, every match, every set, every debilitating second is up to him. No one else can help him out there, and up until about a year ago, he played like it. That was the side of Art Donaldson that Tashi wanted. After the match is a different story. In private, Art needed someone to do the thinking for him, to pull him into a reality where he could believe that it didn't matter whether he won or lost. Tashi had not the sympathy nor the patience for that kind of fragility.

Art comes with a brief cry into your chest, his body arching into yours. Your hand palms at his pulsing dick until he's oversensitive and pulling away. When you relent, the front of his shorts are sticky and wet.

Finally, Art lifts his face from the safety of your chest. His blue eyes are glossed over, but it's an improvement from the detached look they held ten minutes ago. His cheeks are flushed, a mixture of his own embarrassment and satisfaction. 

You can't help the soft smile that creeps onto your face at the look of him, and immediately Art is abashedly trying to hide his face again, his own smile starting to appear. Before he can, you bring your hands back up to cradle his face, thumbs wiping away the wetness from under his eyes. This time he lets you.

His eyes study your face for a second, admiring you, appreciating the love he has for you.

“I don’t want to play tennis anymore.”

You can’t tell if it’s more of a statement or a confession. Either way, you know he’s telling you the absolute truth.

“Okay,” you reply softly, not hint of judgement in your voice. Maybe some disappointment, but that was understandable.

Retirement would be a kindness. Art would finally put back on some healthy weight, start smiling again, put on a real, actual smile. You could already see it, a nice house for the two of you to settle down in, with a picket fence and a dog in the backyard, the kind of things the two of you would have never had time for on tour.

Tennis had brought the two of you together, but it wouldn’t end you.

[sturnioloszn]

JEALOUS - C.S

summary; while your boyfriend is streaming, one specific girl keeps gifting, and you begin to feel jealous of all the attention she's receiving, so chris comes to show you some attention too...

warnings; smut, unprotected sex (wrap the willy), tit sucking, dirty talk, teasing, praising, leaving hickeys, spanking, i think that's it..?

a/n; i have more ideas for fics, but please feel free to leave suggestions/recommendations on what fics u want to see and ill provide like a fairy godmother (unless it's some crazy shit like a shit kink, get out).

It was currently 1am, and my boyfriend and I were cuddled up in his bed watching our favourite series. I loved nights where I was able to just lay in bed with Chris and relax, especially with the chaotic lives we both live.

However, this didn't last long.

"Yo, wanna stream late night fort duos?" Matt questions, walking into the room. Chris looks down at my face, which is currently resting on his chest.

"Would you mind if I streamed with Matt for a few hours, baby?" He asks. There's a look of hope in his eyes, and who am I to deny him having fun with his brother.

"Of course not, you don't have to ask me," I reply, giving a small smile. I love cuddling with Chris, but I don't mind letting him play fortnite with his brother. He'll probably hop off in a few hours and come back to bed anyway.

As he slowly stands up from his bed, he gives me a small thanks before moving to his desk. I watched him attentively as he placed his headphones on his fluffy hair and turned on his monitor, which illuminated a soft blue light onto his face.

I could watch him all day and night. He was the most beautiful man I've ever seen. The way his hair was slightly damp, from coming out the shower not long ago, and the way his facial hair looks without a few days of shaving. God, he was perfect.

"Hellooo people," he says, adjusting his mic. I didn't even realise that he had started the stream already.

I grabbed my phone from the nightstand so I could distract myself from all the screaming and shouting that was bound to happen.

~

It had been roughly an hour and a half since the stream first started, and Chris and Matt were still playing reload, and I was still scrolling on tiktok.

"HOLY SHIT, AVA WITH THE 100 BOMB!" Chris yells, making me turn my head to look at him. I loved how grateful Chris always is, whether people gift 1 or 100, Chris was always so thankful. I really did get lucky with him.

A few moments later Chris shrieks, "No fuckin' way, another 50 subs from Ava,". I turn to look at him again and he has the widest grin on his mouth.

"Everyone spam 'w Ava' in the chat," He says, focusing back in on his game.

I honestly don't know how some people are able to gift so much. I've seen the price of subs, and they are priceyyy. Yet, some people gift hundreds and hundreds.

"AVA WITH ANOTHER 50, HOLY SHIT, YOU'RE THE GOAT AVA," He yells again, shuffling in his chair.

What the fuck? This girl dropped a bag on subs in 5 minutes.

This continues for another half an hour, and to be honest, I'm getting sick of it. Don't get me wrong, I love that they're getting subs but it's the same fucking girl. Can she give it a rest? She's been spamming them with subs, and Chris is not letting it go unnoticed to anyone.

I look over to Chris, and he's smiling wider than ever. He must realise I'm staring at him, so he turns to look at me back.

As soon as we make eye contact, I shuffle on the bed and turn my back to him. From the corner of my eye, I can see his smile fade, and he turns back to his game.

I don't know why I'm feeling like this. I'm not upset about the subs. Is it jealousy? Am I feeling jealous of all the attention Chris is giving this random girl? I guess I am. It's hard not to when he left cuddling you to praise some random girl on the internet.

"Matt, I'm lowkey getting tired. After this round, I'm gonna hop off," Chris says, and through my peripheral vision, I can see him look at me.

He's lying. He's not tired at all, it's only 3am. He can sense something is wrong with me, and that's why he's hopping off the game.

But, as he said, he finished up the round and ended stream.

"Babe, what's wrong?" He asks, standing up from the chair and making his way over to me on the bed. I pretend not to hear him and shuffle slightly further away from him. He notices my actions and repeats his question.

"Why are you in a mood? Is it cause I streamed with Matt?" He continues to ask questions, but I continue to ignore him. I don't know why I'm doing this. Maybe I just want him to pay attention to me, too.

He realises the game I'm playing and decides to change the rules.

He leans down and begins to place soft kisses on my neck. I'm fighting to not close my eyes and keep looking at my screen, but the feeling is consuming me, and I let my eyes flutter close.

"Why are you ignoring me, baby? What can I do to hear your pretty voice, hm?" He says between kisses. Fuck, he knew exactly what he was doing.

He then grabs my phone out of my hand and throws it somewhere on the bed. He forcefully turns me to lay on my back and places himself between my legs, bringing his face up to mine.

"Are you gonna tell me what's wrong, or do you want to keep playing the silent game?" He challenges. I'm looking into his dark and tired eyes, enough to get lost in them.

"It's not fair," I mutter under my breath, but loud enough for him to hear.

"What's not fair, my love?" He asks, rewarding me with another kiss on my neck for answering him.

"All the attention you were showing that stupid girl," I say. My panties are already soaked by the few simple kisses that he had given me. If he continues like this, I'll have to wring out my thong.

A smirk subtly grows on his lips, and he dips his head back down to my neck for another reward. "Are you jealous, baby?" He whispers against my skin.

Fuck. He was driving me insane.

"Yeah, so what?" I ask, challenging him back. I then feel his lips attach to my neck. I gasp softly when he begins to lightly suck on my sweet spot.

"I'm so sorry baby, let me show you the attention you deserve," he says, moving back up to my face. His soft lips crash into mine, and his hands explore my body. My body feels like it's on fire, and I'm craving him more than ever.

"Chris, please," I beg. I'm begging him for something more, I need more.

"I know, baby," he coos. He then brings his hands to the hem of my shirt and lifts it over my head when he sees my nod of approval. He instantly wraps his warm mouth around my nipple and I shudder at the new sensation. He lifts his hand to my other nipple and begins to roll it between his fingertips.

By now, soft moans are escaping my mouth from the stimulation, but I'm still hungry for more. I buck my hips at him to indicate what I really want. He notices my desperate actions and separates himself from my chest.

He hooks his fingers over the band of my sweatpants and yanks them down, revealing my soaked thong.

"Fuck, look at you," He rasps, admiring the patch of wetness that seeped through my underwear. I whine at his comment, I need him so bad. He then peels his own clothes off, leaving himself in just his boxers.

As he pulls his last item of clothing off, his swollen cock sprung out. I sigh at the sight in front of me. I'll never get over this view.

"Be a good girl and get on your hands and knees," he says stroking his cock a few times and rubbing his pre-cum all over his head.

I swiftly move into the position he ordered, and I feel his hand on my lowerback, pushing me into a deeper arch. At this point, my ass is completely in the air, and I'm ready for him to use me.

I feel him pull my thong to the side, letting the cold air in the room hit my warm and wet pussy. With no hesitation, he slides his cock into me with ease, filling me up. We both moan at the contact.

He instantly starts ramming into me, showing no mercy whatsoever. My arms give out immediately, and my face is smushed into a pillow.

"Isn't this what you wanted? My attention," He grunts out from behind me, placing a firm slap on my right ass cheek. I let out a strangled moan, allowing myself to grip the bedsheets.

"Answer you attention whore," he repeats, placing another slap on my ass.

"Y-yes, fuck!" I yelp. He continues to ruthlessly fuck my pussy and I feel the heat in my lower stomach build. I was coming close to finishing. Between the dirty talk, the spanks, and of course the fucking, I wasn't going to last long at all.

"C-chris m'gonna...f-finish," I stutter out. My knuckles are turning white from how intensely I'm gripping the sheets.

"Yeah? Come on my cock like the good girl you are," he groans, placing another spank on my cheek. I bet that by now, my ass is glowing red.

His words push me over the edge, and I violently shake beneath him, allowing a flow of curse words to leave my mouth as he helps me ride out my high and bring himself to his own.

"Fuck. Your such a jealous whore and look how I have you, you think I'm fuckin' other girls like this? Hm?" He asks, pounding into me even harder. I'm starting to become oversensitive, but I know he's about to come any second.

I feel his hands grip my hips hard enough to leave bruises and his warm cum coats my insides. His movements begin to slow, and I let out a satisfied sigh. I feel him pull his limp cock out of my full pussy and he moves to lay beside me.

I crumble next to him and place my head on his chest. Our sweaty bodies are still for a moment as we attempt to catch our breath after the best cardio session ever.

"Jealousy cured?" He smiles, looking down at me.

"Definitely. I'm sorry for being a bitch earlier," I apoligise, giving a sincere smile. Before he can reply, his phone buzzes.

"Who the fuck is texting at almost 4am?" He questions, as he unlocks his phone. He opens his texts and sees a message from Matt:

'Tired my ass, u guys are disgusting'

He pans his phone over to me, and we both die from laughter. The rest of the night is spent cuddling and watching tv together, just the way I love it.

a/n; this is long as shitttt. anywhoo, thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed another one of my 4am creations. love youu <33.

[mostly-imagines]

Well, I guess that I'm going to be that person so, Jay and threesomes — delicious idea actually;

But I don't think that he would dive into the idea of sharing you with other people, especially if you two are a thing (or not, it depends on how he feels about you), like, I've seen in another ask that I unfortunately can't remember the name but it said that if you dated Roy Harper (aka Arsenal) he would share you with Jay, but if it was the opposite, our pretty vigilante wouldn't allow it.

It's clear that it's not that he doesn't trust you, more like... Uhhh? Don't trust others or the insecurity of himself? You get the idea.

Would like to elaborate more, luv?

implied NSFW content below

okay i think there’s 2 ways this could go

1 ) you know how there's a bunch of fics of jason & roy conspiring to have a threesome w reader? every single time i read one (as hot as i do find it) i think about the alternate way that conversation could go

so like you're jason's gf & roy thinks you're hot and decides to get bold bc surely jason will agree?? what’s a girl between friends, right?

he's hung out w you guys/at your apartment lots of times so he's seen you two being touchy with each other plenty.

roy shows up one night to hang and you're wearing one of jay's shirts and as far as roy can tell, no pants because his shirt is so goddamn big on you, there's no point.

"stop looking at her like that," jason's gruff voice cuts through roy's thoughts as they sit on the couch, watching you move about the kitchen.

roy looks over at jason, who doesn't return the eye contact. "i'm not looking at her like anything." he returns his gaze to you, watching your hips. “she’s pretty.”

"i know.” jason says shortly.

jason, knowing roy pretty fucking well at this point, can tell exactly where he’s going with this. he’s been extra flirty with you lately, like he’s trying to butter you up. even going as far as putting a hand on your back or against one of your thighs.

but he’s being more lenient with roy than he would be with someone else thinking about you like that. jason can live with the flirting, that’s just how roy is. the touching gets to him a little though. and the staring might kill him. might kill either one of them, actually.

roy leans back on the couch, looking back to jason, "do you remember that girl in newhaven that wanted to go home with us?"

jason turns his head to look at him, gaze narrowing in dangerously on becoming a glare.

roy shrugs, "i'm just saying. at least you like this girl. makes things easier, doesn't it? plus she's sweet, isn't she?"

jason makes a low hum of a noise that's almost a grunt. "careful."

roy sits up again, fully turning to face him, "jay, come on, i'm just thinking—"

“i know what you're thinking. drop it.”

it takes a special kind of stupid person to argue with jason when he gets serious and resolute like this and roy is not that person so he shuts up and cools it on the flirting. the sudden change in his behavior is harsh enough that you have to ask jason about it later, who, depending on how much he's still simmering about it later, may or may not tell you about what happened there.

or 2 ) roy has the ability to read a fucking room and decides its better for him to keep this idea to himself

in this scenario i see it more as something that roy cannot stop thinking about and he’s doing absolutely everything in his power to prevent himself from getting his neck snapped. he and jason are really good friends but roy’s seen first hand how jason does not play about you so he’s not going to be running any risks.

so lately he won’t look at you unless you speak to him, and then it’s only fleeting, and he’s a lot more careful about when he enters a room he knows you’re both in. he gets real stiff whenever you enter a room and has a nervousness about him that’s uncharacteristic.

but jason’s not stupid and neither are you, so you’ve both noticed a shift in the air to say the least. you’ve been unable to attribute a cause to the newfound shift in energy, though your boyfriend hasn’t had the same trouble identifying the issue.

so jason’s a little annoyed, yeah. but he can’t be that pissed because he gets it. he knows you’re an absolute killer, he assumes every guy that sees you wants you. and that’s fine, whatever. the problem starts up when it’s his best friend who pretty regularly sees you in less-than-modest clothing. jason can’t help that he gets a little possessive then.

jason doesn't necessarily know that the thing taking up roy's mind is a threesome and not just the two of you, but it honestly wouldn't make a difference anyways. it doesn't really have anything to do with whether or not he thinks roy has romantic or just sexual feelings for you, though he's pretty certain they are just sexual.

there's something in the back of his head that tells him that no one has any business seeing you the way he gets to. sex is something so personal for him, for both of you, and he honestly can't even consider the idea of anyone being involved in that other than you and him.

you’ve left the room for a minute one night and there’s an unusual tension that lingers in the air between them. both jason and roy have clocked the shift in demeanor on the others part by now and the resulting silence is devastating. for roy, that is. jason just sits with it.

“you’re not going to do anything,” jason speaks up, not taking his eyes off the drink in his hand. “right?”

the question takes roy off guard and immediately has his heart jumping in his chest. it’s instinct to lie and say ‘no, i don’t want to fuck your girlfriend, what are you talking about?’ but he decides better against it.

he shakes his head, gaze on the rug, “no, no. of course not.”

“good,” jason nods solemnly before adding, “i’d break your nose.”

“i know," roy says simply.

you'd spent longer in the other room than you needed to, hoping something would be said and resolved about whatever was going on with them. clearly at least the former had gone down because when you come back in, there's a slightly different air to the room than the one you had left. more nervous on roy's part, more sure on jason's.

you give jason a questioning look when you sit back down and he just shakes his head cooly and wraps an arm around your shoulder. you trust him well enough to believe that whatever was said was what needed to be said and it's taken care of now.

and it was—the rest of the night was easier as it went on and after a couple of somewhat strange silent exchanges between the two men, roy even started looking at you again. and maybe jason gave you a few kisses with a bit more intensity and held you a little closer than he might have otherwise, but that’s nobody else’s business but his.

[star--stilinski]

Just thinking of stiles going “oh yeah?”

did you guys hear me moan just now say yes if you did

☆

you're play-fighting, an argument about nothing. but the conversation is turning, tilting, the room getting warmer. he's manspreading on the couch across from the loveseat you're perched in, both of you waiting on scott and liam while they do some stupid werewolf stuff. well, it's not stupid, but.

sometimes it is.

"you're not half as talented at figuring people out as you put on." you tilt your nose up and scoff. what prompted that? something something who's smarter than who something something. stiles has a look in his eyes, his pupils like predatory slits as he watches you. it makes you want to press more of his buttons, just to see. "you couldn't figure me out with a map and a flashlight."

his lips turn up cockily. "already have. i don't need any assistance."

you drop the facade, curious now. "liar. name one thing about me that you figured out." layering on your skepticism to bait him, you cross your ankles in the seat, subtly pressing your thighs together.

not on purpose.

obviously.

he tilts his head at you, eyes dipping over your figure before meeting your gaze head-on. he's always been a bit more bold with just you two in a room arguing, like the environment gives him room to (metaphorically) stretch his legs. you watch as he shifts his hips just slightly. "you like attention. compliments and gifts and touches. but it flusters you. as if you don't think you deserve it."

okay, asshole. you look away from him and fix your necklace. "that is so not hard to assume. i'm sure plenty of people feel that way." swallowing, you look over at him again. "especially girls."

stiles squints at you, crossing his arms over his chest. "alright, fine. you like it when you get- or i guess, from what i've experienced- you like it when i manhandle you. you make this face when you like something. it's..."

his jaw clenches, and he pauses like he's changing directions. "annoying."

you make an offended noise and narrow your eyes at him. "i do not."

"you do." he raises his brows in challenge. "you're making it right now."

"nothing you are doing is likeable, currently." you snap quickly.

stiles smirks, tilts his head at you. his hips are pushed out and his arms are crossed over his chest, making his biceps bulge a bit.

"oh yeah?"

☆

there are so many more "oh yeah" scenarios. guys he's an accidental whore i love him. on the phone late at night while you say "i'm so tired but i dont wanna hang up :(" he's like "oh yeah?" in the sleepy voice. wearing a skimpy fit lydia had you borrow and he's checking you out clearly half hard and you're like "yea i just borrowed it from lyds nbd" and he's like "oh yeah?" absentmindedly. making out he finds your sweet spot on your neck and you tell him "feels so good" and he's all condescending like "oh yeah?"

[oldsoul007]

hope you like scary movies, cus you’re in one

a/n: I may or may not saw an edit…

ghostface!nicholas x reader

It was a quiet night in woodsboro , like it always is. I was a nanny for a little boy so I could get through college. My phone buzzed on the kitchen counter, and I glanced at the screen. Unknown Caller. I pressed declined but it repeatedly kept calling. Then the landline they had started ringing. I hesitated for a moment before answering.

"Hello?" I said, my voice cautious.

"Hello, y/n," a distorted voice replied. It sent a chill down my spine. "Do you like scary movies?"

I recognized the voice immediately. It was Ghostface, the infamous killer that terrorize my dad in 1996. But something felt off. There was a familiarity in the tone, beneath the distortion.

"Who is this? You’re not funny” Y/n asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Guess," the voice taunted. "Or maybe I'll just have to come find you."

My heart raced, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I knew this person. She thought about Nicholas and how he always played pranks on her. Could it be him?

"Alright, Nicholas," I said, calling his bluff. "Cut it out. I know it's you."

There was a brief silence on the other end before the voice changed, becoming softer and unmistakably Nicholas.

"You got me," he admitted, a hint of amusement in his voice. "I couldn't resist. I've been watching too many horror movies lately."

I let out a relieved laugh. "You really had me going there for a second. But seriously, you need to stop watching those movies."

Nicholas chuckled. "I know, I know. But hey, it got you to pick up the phone, didn't it?"

I shook my head, smiling. "Yeah, it did. But next time, maybe just send a text?"

"Deal," Nicholas agreed, his tone warm. As I hung up, I couldn't help but feel a mix of exasperation and affection for Nicholas. Even when he was being mischievous, he had a way of making me smile.

I had been feeling uneasy for days. I couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching me. It started with strange noises outside my window at night and escalated to finding eerie notes left in places only I would notice. The notes were signed by "Ghostface," and they sent chills down my spine.

One evening, as I was walking home from work, I heard footsteps behind me. I quickened my pace, but the footsteps matched mine, growing closer with each step. I turned a corner and ducked into an alley, hoping to lose my pursuer. But as I looked back, I saw the unmistakable mask of Ghostface looming in the shadows.

My heart raced as I tried to find a way out. Suddenly, Ghostface lunged at me, pinning her against the wall. "Why are you doing this?" I cried, her voice trembling with fear.

The masked figure was silent for a moment before reaching up to remove the mask. To my shock, it was Nicholas, my boyfriend, standing there with a sheepish grin on his face.

"Nicholas? What the hell?" My fear quickly turned to anger. "You scared me half to death!"

Nicholas looked genuinely apologetic. "I didn't mean to frighten you that much. I thought it would be a fun Halloween prank. I guess I went too far."

My anger softened slightly as I saw the remorse in his eyes. "You think?" I said, still shaken. "You could have just told me you wanted to scare me a little, not make me think I was being stalked by a killer."

Nicholas sighed. "I'm really sorry, y/n. I just wanted to do something different, but I realize now it was a terrible idea. Can you forgive me?"

I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. "Just promise me you'll never do something like this again."

"I promise," Nicholas said, pulling me into a hug. "I'll make it up to you, I swear."

As we walked home together, I couldn't help but feel relieved that the nightmare was over. But I also realized that Nicholas had a lot to learn about what constituted a "fun" prank.

“I don’t understand why you’re so obsessed with ghostface” “babe it’s Halloween losen up!” He said as we walked hand in hand.

I had always felt a chill in the air around Halloween, but this year, it was different. I had my boyfriend, nicholas. He was charming, funny, and had a smile that could light up the darkest night. Everyone loved him. But there was something about him that I couldn't quite put my finger on.

One evening, me and nick decided to attend the town's annual Halloween party. The old mansion where the party was held was decked out in spooky decorations, with cobwebs, eerie lighting, and ghostly figures lurking in the corners. Everyone was in costume, and I had chosen to go as a ____.

As I mingled with friends, I couldn't help but notice that Nicholas was nowhere to be seen. I asked around, but no one seemed to know where he was. Just as I was about to give up, I was walking by the stairs when I heard someone yelling.

I try not to be nosey but go up the stairs anyone. Maybe nick was up here anyway. I walked through the house looking in the rooms finding nothing. When I open the door i see some kid in a ghost face costume hop out the window. “What the fuck” I say under my breath. I pull out my phone to text him. No service?

I heard commotion downstairs so I ran down to see what’s happening. Everyone was gone from the house. I heard a floorboard squeak behind me.

It was Ghostface, and my heart raced. The figure moved silently through the room, its eyes fixed on me. I felt a shiver run down my spine as Ghostface approached, stopping just inches away from me.

"Y/n," a familiar voice whispered from behind the mask. My eyes widened in shock as Ghostface removed the mask to reveal Nicholas's face. He smiled, but it wasn't the warm, friendly smile I was used to. It was cold and sinister.

"I've been watching you," Nicholas said, his voice low and menacing. "You have no idea who I really am."

I took a step back, my mind racing. The pieces started to fall into place—the strange disappearances, the eerie feeling I got around him, the way he always seemed to know too much. I realized with a sinking feeling that my new boyfriend was none other than the real Ghostface.

Before I could react, Nicholas lunged at me, but I was quick. I grabbed a nearby candlestick and swung it at him, knocking him off balance. I ran through the mansion, my heart pounding in my chest, desperately searching for a way out.

As I reached the front door, I could hear Nicholas's footsteps behind me. I flung the door open and ran into the night, vowing never to trust anyone so easily again. But before I could even get out of the door he grabbed my arm pulling me back in. I try fighting him off but he grabs both of my wrist. “I’m not gonna hurt you y/n!” “Why, why did you do this?!” I yell looking him in the eyes. “What even is a motive?”

[dollfacefantasy]

Restless Dreams

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: leon gets home late after another hard day at work to you having some extra sweet dreams.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, fingering, somnophilia, wet dream

word count: 3.6k

a/n: hey everyone!! hope you all enjoy this :) i guess i've been into soft leon with somno lately idk LOL. i was kind of tired myself when writing/editing this, so forgive any errors pretty please. new divider from here. thank you for any comments and reblogs <3

tags: @sleepyluxe @kaitkatme @tosuckmyweenis @pupthepokemonenthusiast @bizzarethirst @death-paint @petitecolibri @iron-toxinz @wildest-dreams-at-midnight @nexysworld @explorevenus

“So what time do you think you’re gonna get here?” you ask before blowing on the drying polish that coats your nails.

“My shift finishes up at 12, and then I gotta file some reports. I’ll probably be done at 1, so not too long after that,” Leon explains through the phone. Despite his attempt to lay it out for you, there’s still a pause, one he came to recognize as your reaction of displeasure. A smile plays on his lips. “But you know the real answer is as soon as I can.”

You look down at your phone on your vanity, a pout forming on your face. Obviously, it wasn’t his fault he had to work so much now. He’d warned you when he started at the police station a few months ago, but it didn’t prepare you for how much you’d miss him.

It made you feel dumb, that nagging, achy feeling of longing in your chest. It wasn’t like he was off to war or something. You still saw him almost everyday. But more and more of his time was consumed by work now. Even when he was with you, he was often exhausted. 

Sometimes all you could think about his new job was that he was your boyfriend, not theirs. You’d mentally scold yourself for being so immature when that happened, but the sentiment still lingered in your head.

“Ok…” you say, trying to keep your voice neutral. He hears the dejection in your tone though.

“Baby,” he coos in that voice that sent warmth through your spine and got you to agree with everything he said, “You know I’d rather be with you. I’m just new and have to take the time to learn. Plus, with the caseload and the number of officers here, they need me at the station.”

“I need you more,” you say. You try to pass it off as playfulness, but it comes from real feelings. Your heart was beginning to tense with resentment for the RPD for taking him away so much. You knew the job meant a lot to him though which is why you would never unleash your admittedly petty frustrations.

A low laugh leaves him, and you can hear that loving smirk on his face as his voice comes through your phone’s speaker.

“Do you now? You’re really missing me that much?” he teases, leaning back in the driver’s seat of his cruiser. 

He knew that you did in fact miss him that much. And even though, since starting at the police station, he tried to project the image of a tough guy, he missed you just as much. That’s why he started calling you during lulls in his shift.

“Mhm. It’s not fair. It’s like I’m sharing you with the station. And I don’t like sharing,” you say with an exaggerated huff.

“Oh, I know you don’t,” he chuckles. He sighs happily, checking the time to calculate how much time was left before he could have you in his arms again. “But not much longer, baby. Then you get me all to yourself for the whole weekend.”

“I better,” you grumble with a smile.

“I promise you will,” he says genuinely. A light on his dashboard flickers, alerting him that his attention is needed elsewhere. “Just don’t stay up too late waiting for me tonight, ok? Your rest is important.”

“Seeing you is more important,” you respond.

“I know, but I prefer my girl when she’s not all cranky and sleep deprived. So try tonight, sweetheart. For me?” he asks.

“I guess,” you concede. Your heart already aches, knowing he’s about to hang up.

“I love you, baby,” he says softly, “I’ll see you later.”

“I love you too,” you tell him before he disconnects the call.

The silence that falls over your room makes it feel even more empty. You tap the glass screen of your phone, scanning for the time before you finish getting ready for bed. Your mouth curves downward when the numbers light up on the screen.

Only 10:30. Too much time till you’ll hear him come through your front door, but it’s not like you can do anything about it. You haphazardly go through the rest of your routine before dragging yourself over to your bed and getting in.

Sliding between the soft pink sheets, you flop down against your pillow and stare at the ceiling as you contemplate how to kill the time. Nothing grabs your interest because none of it’s him. It’s all just filler.

And worst of all, you were starting to feel sleepy. You wanted to wait up for Leon so badly, but you also went through a whole day of your own that tired you out. Plus, your bed was just so comfy with your plush blankets and full pillows, stuffed animals and frilly decorative cushions scattered on one side.

Thinking it would help to keep your eyes actively focused on something, you try to read. Your eyes scan over the words, and it isn’t long before you realize you’d made a horrible mistake. Moving your eyes along the page only made them more drowsy.

Next you turn on the tv and put on something you didn’t really have to pay attention to. But the soft glow of the tv casts across you and the low chatter of the characters becomes background noise, making it even harder for you to keep your eyes open.

You lazily reach across your bed and grab the bunny stuffie Leon had bought for you a few weeks prior. Tucking it beneath your chin and close to your chest, your drooping eyes fall shut and your breaths become soft and even. Barely any time has gone by before you’re sinking into slumber.

Leon glances down at his phone, the small numbers illuminating 2:04 in the darkness of the hallway. He enters your place with the key you gave him and shuts the door as quietly as possible. He knows you’re sleeping from seeing the dark bedroom. Already feeling guilty for taking longer than he’d expected, he didn’t want to add to that feeling by waking you up.

He makes his way to your room, padding silently down the hall. Once he reaches the door, he pushes it open with almost no force in an attempt to avoid even the slightest creak. You’re where he expected you to be, curled up in your bed, completely peaceful as you slept. He knew he probably looked like a little lovesick puppy right about now, eager to hop into bed and snuggle up to your side, but he didn’t care.

It takes him no time to shed his police uniform. He makes quick work of unlacing his boots and kicking them off. His pants and shirt crumple up at the foot of your bed next to his belt and socks. Finally, once he’s got on a pair of sweatpants he kept at your place, he climbs into bed with you.

He shoves your stuffies and extra pillows out of his way with a playful roll of his eyes and gets as close to you as he can. His arm drapes over you, and he nuzzles the back of your neck, planting a few kisses on the base of your head. You smelled so good, felt so soft, perfect to come home to.

His body melts into the mattress, and he’s ready to give into his own urges to sleep. That is until he notices you’re not as peaceful as you appeared from the doorway. His eyebrows raise as he feels your legs squirming. Restless movements from your feet beneath the covers and your thighs shifting aimlessly against each other.

He’s ready to brush it off at first. ‘Must just be having some wild dreams,’ he thinks with another kiss to your head. But then he hears the faintest sound, so quiet that he probably would have missed it had he been focused on anything else. It’s a whimper. A gentle, tender squeak that slips from between your lips into the cool air of your bedroom.

Now, his face conveys his concern. He worries you’re having a nightmare. That at any moment you’ll wake up with tears in your eyes and your heart pounding out of your chest. Immediately, he begins stroking your arm, kissing your temple, murmuring “It’s ok, baby. I’m here.”

But you make that little noise again, and this time it paints a different picture in Leon’s head. This whimper didn’t sound scared or stressed, like you were crying out for his protection. No, this sound brought to mind images of you writhing beneath him, nails marking his biceps with small crescents as he pumped himself in and out of you.

He shakes his head because that couldn’t be it. That’s just his horny mind creating things that aren’t there from being so pent up.

At least that’s what he tells himself until you make the noise again. It brings the same memories up, but this time he’s even more sure of it. He lifts his head off of yours to look down at you and try to figure out what to do next.

You look so cute, brows slightly furrowed, lips parted. As he brushes some hair from your face, he notices your fingers clutching your stuffed rabbit a little tighter. Your breath hitches for a moment before you let out a soft, sleepy whine of his name.

It’s unmistakable now what’s going on. He smirks and traces a finger over your lips. The pad of his index finger drags on your bottom lip slightly, turning your mouth into that pout he loved so much. He leans and kisses your cheek as you whine again.

“Please.”

He chuckles at how needy you sound even in your sleep, but at the same time, your voice has blood rushing to his cock while his head swirls with desire. He shifts his own hips, subtly pressing his erection against your ass. His eyes flutter at the minute pleasure. He grows more bold, and his hand rubs your hip before coasting up your side to your chest, giving your breast a gentle squeeze.

You whimper louder and squirm. He squeezes again softly while lowering his head to your neck to lay some tender kisses on the side of your throat. His palm leaves your tits and smooths down over your tummy in the direction of your shorts.

Cautiously, he maneuvers his hand past the waistband and dips into your panties. He cups your pussy, feeling the heat radiating off the area. A single finger slides between your folds in almost an exploratory touch. He feels your slick all over his digit. Clearly, this dream was a pretty good one.

He begins to use another finger, sliding the two up and down through your wetness. You roll onto your back, your breasts rising and falling as your breath gets heavier. Your thighs spread a little as if you subconsciously sensed his presence between your legs.

In your dreams, Leon was doing a lot more than rubbing you with his fingers. After you had fallen asleep, it felt like no time had passed. All of the sudden you were just on the table in your dining room, spread out for his rapture. 

You didn’t realize you were dreaming, everything felt so real. To you, he was really there, looking down at you with those loving yet lecherous eyes. Hands roaming your exposed body, lips caressing your skin all over. Everything seemed light and airy while also feeling heavy and thick. Your head, filled with clouds, slipped in and out of the moment. The sensation of him rutting his cock between your thighs and sliding inside of you was your reality at the moment.

In actual reality, Leon continues to move his fingers slowly, swiping them over your entrance and taking them back up to circle your clit. You mewl when he applies some pressure, sending sparks through you. Your squirming becomes more motivated, and he can tell your drifting away from your restful sleep back toward consciousness.

“I’m right here, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his voice huskier with arousal this time around.

You hear his voice in your dreams. The deep rumble enters your ears as you envision his hips pistoning into your wanting cunt. You mumble something in response, but he can’t understand the sleepy babbling. He rubs your clit a little harder with some more speed. You twitch in response, yet your eyes remain closed.

“I know, baby. I know it feels so good,” he coos and kisses behind your ear.

More incoherent words fall from your mouth. He sucks love bites into your neck, and you tilt your head back, craving more of that feeling. The dream version of him began mimicking the actions of the real Leon as you neared waking.

Whining louder, your fingers dig into the smooth fur of your plush bunny before letting it go. He nips at the sensitive skin of your throat as his fingers travel down and push inside your heat.

The feeling rips a moan from you and causes your eyes to open. Your back arches as he works them deeper. Your hips wriggle a little as you make sense of what’s happening.

“Leon?” you whimper. Your sleepy eyes struggle to stay open after being torn from the fog of sleep.

“That’s right, baby. It’s just me. You were having some nice dreams, weren’t you, pretty girl?” he says.

“Mhm,” you hum mindlessly.

“About me?” he teases, eyes watching your body fidget with the pleasure you felt.

“About you,” you confirm before he leans down and kisses your lips. They were so soft against his own. He slowly moves his mouth with yours and languidly slides his tongue against yours.

You moan into the kiss as his fingers curl within you and hit your favorite spot. Your feet lightly kick at the sensation. Your hips rise a little as you feel the flood gates holding your release about to break.

You’re too sleepy to tell him out right, but he knows the signs. He keeps working you there until your body seizes and arches off the bed. You let out a throaty moan and turn your head to bury your face against his shoulder.

“There you go. Let it all out, sweetheart,” he whispers and kisses your head.

You ride out the high on his hand, and by the time you’re done, you’re ready to fall asleep again. Your mind is hazy with the fog of release. You’re drifting off as your body settles without even realizing it.

You’re only yanked back to reality by Leon scooping you up into his lap. He’s sitting with his back to the headboard, and he situates you between his thighs, back against his chest. His arms keep you caged in nice and close, safe and warm.

“Don’t fall asleep again just yet, babydoll,” he murmurs while kissing up your neck.

Your head lolls back against his shoulder. The fight to stay awake gets a little easier as his hand returns to your soaked panties. He doesn’t tease this time, just slides in two fingers and starts moving them in and out.

The new angle makes you squirm and whine, but he holds you tight in place with his free arm.

“Gotta work you open, honey. Can’t just slide my dick in you with no warm up,” he says with a smirk.

His voice pulls you towards lucidity a little more. Your hands wrap around his free arm for support while your hips instinctively roll into his blissful touch.

“I missed you,” you choke out between gasps and whimpers.

“I know you did,” he teases, grinning against your throat. His cock throbs against the small of your back as his ears latch onto the sound of your slick around his fingers. “Came home to cuddle with my sweet girl, and I find her having such dirty dreams.”

Your cheeks heat up as you start to piece together what had happened. You fully realize now that your escapade on the kitchen table was entirely in your mind. You feel embarrassed for a moment, but the feeling dies pretty quick as you rapidly approach the edge for a second time.

“Not my fault,” you whimper shyly.

He chuckles and kisses your temple once more. “I know it’s not. If anything, it’s mine. I think I’ve been neglecting my baby,” he says with a mocking lilt in his voice.

You cry out as his fingers brush against those same spots that brought you to the finish last time. Your hips twitch, and you grip his thighs as your peak rises within you. Moments later your cumming all over his fingers, sucking in a harsh breath as a second release courses through you, even more intense then the last.

His free arm keeps you secure against his chest while rubbing your side soothingly. The heel of his other palm roughly massages your clit as his fingers pump in and out.

“Good girl,” he coos, “That’s it, just one more and then I can put you to sleep how you deserve.”

As soon as you seem to be coming down, Leon lifts you up again, tugging your clothes off and moving your body around like a doll to get you in the position he wants. You were definitely more pliant after two orgasms, but you could also see how his training had been paying off. Maybe this new job wasn’t all bad.

He has you on your back now, thighs against your chest and knees hooked over his arms. Again, he had no patience to tease right now, so after pushing his sweats down to mid thigh, he takes his cock and slides it in you with no hesitation. He groans as your hole takes him in, your walls pulsing around him even after he bottoms out.

“So wet. I can just slide right in,” he mumbles as his own hips twitch.

Your eyes droop at the stretch. It always felt so satisfying, having him buried balls deep in you. As close as he could possibly be. No fear of him leaving or pain of being separated. You whine and reach up to pull him closer.

He follows along and rests his face against your neck as he begins thrusting. You hear him panting right in your ear. His hands grip your hips so hard you know there’ll be marks.

“Perfect pussy’s made for me,” he grunts while snapping his hips, “Miss it every second I’m not inside it.”

You nod lazily as you continue to clamp down around him. After two releases, you didn’t even feel a building ecstasy anymore, just a constant stream of pleasure.

“Leon,” you whine, “Harder. Wanna feel it.”

He moans at your plea but indulges you, grabbing you harder, pressing your legs higher, filling you deeper.

“Wanna be sore after, don’t you, sweetheart? Want a reminder of me while I’m at work. Something to tide you over till I can do this again. Won’t have to rely on dreams then, right?” he says.

“Yeah,” you whimper. Your bed creaks as he picks up the pace, but your moans mask the sound as they grow in volume.

He fucks into you over and over, stoking the flames within himself, trying to build to that explosion. You were so tight, so warm. He hums another low moan and whimpers softly as he feels it right there. He gasps softly before holding you tighter and muttering in your ear.

“Ready for another one, honey? Gonna be the last one and then we’ll get you comfy and off to sleep.”

“Yeah,” you moan again, unable to say much else.

“Good… good girl,” he moans before his hips buck wildly and he finally releases.

You finish for a third time. You cling to him tight as the euphoria washes over you again. Locking your legs around his hips, you keep your face pressed to the warm skin of his neck as it goes through you. You feel the hot flood of cum he fucks into you. His chest is heaving now too as he recovers from the high.

He stays on top of you for a moment before pulling out. You cling harder upon losing that full feeling. He smiles at your desire to be close to him and gives you one more kiss before sitting up.

“So sweet to me, baby. I hope that made up for the late night,” he whispers and strokes your hair.

“It did,” you say with a nod. Your eyes were already shutting again, ready to go back to sleep after being fucked so good.

He looks at you with all the love in the world as he pulls his sweats up. He then helps you pull your panties and shirt back on, trying to laugh at your sleepy, half-assed movements.

After that, he gets you all tucked in next to him, snuggled up in his arms like he originally intended. He even grabs that stuffed bunny he got you and fits it close to you in case you want it.

“Get some rest, honey. You need it,” he whispers while rubbing your back.

“Mhm,” you respond tiredly, “You too. You’re all mine for the weekend, and I don’t want you tired out the whole time.”

“Alright, but I’m gonna be tired out if we do some more of that again tomorrow,” he jokes. He pulls you close to him and shuts his eyes, nestling his head against yours and settling in to rest.

That puts a smile on your face and you nuzzle him once more before letting yourself fall asleep for the night.

[kumkaniudaku]

Stay A While (3)

Summary: Terry get's a lesson in love and shares it with Patrice.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 5,049

Part: 3 of ??

Warnings: Smut (18+)

One. Two.

"Well, James, how you been?" 

"Honestly, Pop. I don't know where to start." 

Wooden spoons banged and scraped across pots on the stove while Marvin scooped red beans and rice into a small ceramic bowl. He'd long shed his work coveralls for an open flannel shirt and khakis to spend some quality time with his only son. 

James was their shared middle name in a long line of Richmond men dating back to their family migration from New Orleans to Fayetteville in the 50s. Marvin was a proud, honorable man. He never said a bad word about anybody, and no one had a bad word to say about him. He taught Terry how to play football, make a pot of dirty rice to perfection, and the importance of ensuring a lady never touched a doorhandle in his presence. He was the reason Terry joined the Marine Corps after a career in the NFL looked unlikely. He was the reason his boy spoke softly and carried a big stick. And he was one of only two people Terry trusted with his heart. 

With two bowls and spoons on a serving tray, Marvin made his way to the kitchen table. He stopped short to get a good look at his son with blue green eyes even more captivating than Terry's. He noted the new frown lines developing on his brow and the lone grey hair sprouting in his goatee. His boy was stressed and confused. He didn't need a conversation to tell him that but welcomed it anyway. 

After sliding one bowl across the table, he took a seat with his signature grunt. "Start at the top. Plenty of time still left in the day." 

Terry quietly thanked his father for his generosity and avoided the question by eating the first bite of his meal. They ate in silence for several seconds until Terry took a deep breath. 

"I think I've been okay. More ups than downs lately, but the downs are pretty damn low. I'm having a tough time sleeping. I'm barely working. I feel like a burden for Treece more than I feel like a man who can actually do something for her." 

"Being a man is about more than what you can do." 

"Yeah, but…" Terry trailed off, trying to gather his thoughts. "It's just - things weren't supposed to be this hard. I gave this country a lot of my time, and I guess I expected to say my goodbyes and roll into my next chapter. Now, my plan b needs a plan b, and I'm out of options." 

"You're not out of options. You don't like askin' for help. Proud like your grandaddy." 

"And you too." 

Marvin chuckled and shook his head as he took another spoonful of food.  "This ain't about me."

The two men shared a laugh, their voices sounding nearly identical as they bounced off the walls. He was the spitting image of his father, both in stature and moral compass. 

"What do you need, James?" Marvin had grown serious again, making Terry avert his eyes to focus on his food. "I'll save you the stress of asking, but you gotta tell me what I need to offer. Is it money?"

"Not much. Enough to pay some bills until the end of the month, and I can have it back to you. I think I have a shot at this job on base if I can get through the second interview."

"How you getting back and forth? I know y'all do the Lyft and Ubom thing these days. Ridin' around with strangers like we didn't spend a whole decade tell y'all not to." 

Terry laughed. "It's Uber, Pop. But, no. Treece is out for the summer, so I'm…using her car when I need it. I don't wanna take advantage of her." 

"Those some of the bills you need help paying?" Marvin's question was answered with a silent head nod and eyes filled with shame. He softened his voice as he reached into his wallet for the cash he had on hand. "It's what you're supposed to do. Ain't no shame. That money is for yourself. Give me til tomorrow afternoon to have more. Five grand enough?" 

"Ah, Pop, I don-" 

"We didn't work as hard as we did for nothing. Plus, it's your college fund money we never withdrew. You're lucky your mother hasn't used it for renovations. She's been eyeing your sister's old room for an indoor she-shed or whatever the hell it's called." 

Marvin sounded exasperated by the concept of his wife's latest project, which amused Terry. They hadn't changed since the day he left. They were just two people who had been in love since the day they met and remained committed to supporting each other through the ebbs and flows of life. 

Standing from the kitchen table, Marvin shuffled around the corner to the garage entrance and returned with a ring of keys and a pile of mail. He tossed them at Terry and returned to his seat. 

"What's this?" 

"Keys to GMC outside. Take it. You might need to run it for a little bit and change the oil, but it works fine. The rest is your mail." Terry opened his mouth to protest and received a glare from his father in return. "I gave you my best speech about askin' for help, and here you go ruining things. Take the truck before I tell your mama."

"Alright, alright," Terry laughed as he raised his hands. "I love you, Pop." 

"Love you, man. I'm proud of you." Not ones for the warm fuzzies of hugs, the two extended their arms across the table for a quick fist bump before returning to their meals. Marvin let his son eat in peace for a few moments before the corner of his lips curled in a knowing smile. "So…Patrice Ellis, huh? That little love letter you wrote in 10th grade finally coming true?" 

"Pop." 

"Ah, come on. It's alright to be in love, son. She's a good girl. Got good folks, too. What's the holdup?" 

In love? The more Terry attempted to negotiate the gravity of the phrase within himself, the more he had to reckon with the idea that his father may not be that far off base.

Terry slowed his eating and looked at his father for help. "You think I'm in love?" 

"Oh, I know you are. You didn't come back to Fayetteville for me, did you?" 

"How would I know, though? How did you know?" 

Marvin stopped eating to sit back in his chair. A fond smile crossed his face as he thought of his younger years. 

"I knew I was in love when I wanted to show up every day and do the work to be with her. It didn't matter if she pissed me off or if we disagreed about decisions. At the end of every day, I can look at her and know I'm where I want to be forever. Plus, I still get a little fired up when she walks through the door all these years later. I ain't much to look at, but your mother is…" 

Marvin let his sentence drop to whistle at the mention of his wife. Terry pretended to take exception but eventually laughed at his father's antics. He quickly relaxed into a contemplative state. 

"I wanna be the best I can for her," he spoke softly. "I get…sad when she's gone for too long. Sometimes, I find myself forcing conversation just to make her look at me because the light in her eyes is the only thing keeping me grounded most days. What does that mean?" 

"You don't need me to answer that, son. Go with what you know." 

Before Terry could seek more advice, the mechanical roar of the garage door made Marvin nearly spring out of his seat to greet his one true love. 

Outside, Patrice was nearly doubled over from laughter in the front seat. 

Diedra "DeeDee" Richmond was the quintessential Southern black woman. Like a prim and proper belle, she wore her color-treated blonde hair big to match an even bigger personality.  She wore heels with every outfit and never left the house without earrings, but she could also drink and cuss like a sailor. 

When she offered Patrice the chance to tag along for her monthly Sister Circle meeting, there was no chance she'd miss the opportunity to ditch Terry and kick it with the upper crust of Black women. 

"And, girl, Rita thinks we can't tell that she took every one of those appetizers out of the damn freezer section. At least go to the Publix bakery. Finger sandwiches ain't that expensive." 

Amid their gossip session, the garage door's chime caught Dee Dee's attention, effectively ending her one-woman show in favor of giving her husband the eye. Behind him, Terry stood with a nervous smile and puppy dog eyes that he directed at Patrice. 

"Marry a Richmond, child. You'll never lift a finger for the rest of your life. Lord knows I love me some him. Hey, baby!" DeeDee advised as she watched Marvin nearly float to the driver's side to open her door. 

Patrice watched Marvin and DeeDee fawn over each other like teenage lovers until the faint pop of her door opening brought her back to life. 

Terry stood in the gap with his hand out to offer assistance. She accepted without protest, letting him gently pull her from the passenger side with her bags in tow and close the door behind her.

"I missed you." 

Terry's admission came in a sweet voice as he dipped his head to place two chaste kisses on Patrice's lips. Only the knowledge of his parents 10 feet away kept her from turning an innocent display of affection into something vulgar. 

Patrice chased his lips once he pulled away, earning a deep chuckle that vibrated her chest. 

"We kissing in front of the parents now?" 

"Too much," he asked, suddenly embarrassed. 

She used her thumb to wipe lip gloss from his bottom lip before rising to her tip toes to kiss his nose. "No. You're perfect." 

Dee Dee and Marvin watched the young couple giggle at nothing in particular with broad smiles and full hearts. 

"Treece, when's the last time you had some of my red beans and rice?" 

Marvin's question made both of them jump like children caught in the act with the realization that they weren't alone. 

"Way too long," Patrice answered, her stomach almost growling at the mention. 

"Then have dinner with us. We'd love to have you." 

Patrice looked toward Terry for confirmation, making Dee Dee cackle as she started up the stairs into her home. "Child, forget him. Terrence don't run nothing 'round here! Come get this food."

Terry's eyes grew wide at his mother's dismissal while Patrice dissolved into an uncontrollable fit of laughter at his expense on her way into the house. 

"Oh, that's funny," he asked, following her lead. "That's the last time I let y'all hang out unsupervised." 

Three extra hours at Terry's parents' house wasn't enough for the tandem to abandon their new night routine. 

Patrice stood at her bathroom sink, scrubbing the day from her face while Terry made himself comfortable on her closed toilet lid. Sometimes, he read something from Patrice's bookshelf, both preferring to simply exist in the same room. Other times, he watched baseball on his phone and attempted to provide color commentary despite Patrice not showing interest. This time, though, he sat with relaxed shoulders and low eyes while she moved through her beauty routine. 

Something about the sleepytime body wash had him laser-focused on how her legs looked a mile long beneath her nightshirt, oiled to perfection and glistening under the warm vanity lights. He wanted to reach out and touch her. Maybe pull her closer by her thighs and whisper every single nasty thought on his mind below her navel until she promised never to leave his side. 

But, he shook his inner man loose and leaned forward to re-engage with her as she called his name. 

"You know you should use a gentle exfoliant every once in a while. It'll help your breakouts. Use some of my sunscreen, too. It's dangerous for you to let the sun hit your face with no protection."

Blah, blah, blah. Everything she said sounded like a chorus of 1000 angels to him. She could've revealed the cure to cancer, and he would be too lovestruck to notice. 

Knowing his restraint was dwindling, he stood abruptly and stretched his arms above his head with a yawn as she added moisturizer to her face.

Patrice watched him take up space behind her through the mirror, shifting so he could leave something to remember him by on her shoulder and neck. 

"Good night," he spoke between kisses, the words muffled against her skin. 

"Already? It's not that late, is it?" 

"I promised Corey I'd help him with football practice at Francis tomorrow morning."

"He'll run you ragged if you don't speak up." 

"I'll speak up. I promise." 

Using what little space she had, Patrice turned to rest her backside on the counter and face Terry. She used her index finger to hook his gold herringbone chain and bring him down for a kiss. Or kisses. It'd been so long since they could have each other in this way. Time and experience, both together and separately, had them maneuvering like professionals. Each kiss was teasing and sensual in equal measure. A tangible mastery of retreating and aggression made the pursuit of one another worth the wait. 

They'd lost track of their exhibition until Terry's phone buzzing against the toilet seat jolted them back into reality.

Patrice flattened her palms against his chest to create some separation and end what would surely turn into blurred lines if they weren't careful. "Good night, TJ.  Grab that exfoliant out of my shower before you leave. It's in the caddie." 

Terry took the gentle redirection in stride, smiling at her through the mirror before turning to do as she had asked. Patrice used what little focus she could muster to secure her headscarf to her head, desperate to extend her box braids for one more week. 

"What's this?" 

"What's what?" She didn't bother to look away from her task until the low hum of her vibrator caught her attention. She whipped her body around, too stunned to reach for the bright pink toy that had Terry smirking as he examined its buttons. "That is my personal property for personal and private use." 

"When's the last time you used it?" 

"It's been a while. A month or so." Mostly true. She couldn't say she hadn't thought about it more recently.

"Since I've been here?" 

She shrugged. "Kinda hard to get comfortable when there's a person on the other side of the wall." 

The mere sound of the only thing to touch her in two years made the hair on her arms stand at attention. Her eyes darted between the toy and Terry, who made himself familiar with each speed and pattern, cycling through dirty thoughts and intrigue as he held the device against his arm to get a feel for the intensity, 

Setting one? Bearable. A softball. Setting three? Maybe she'd call out his name from the pleasure? Setting seven? Surely, she'd hang on to him like a wet t-shirt on a Playboy model while she rode the crest of her orgasm. 

The possibilities excited him to no end. He needed to test each and every theory.

In two clicks, he returned the toy to its original setting and then off completely, holding it in one hand while taking slow steps to close the gap between him and the only person on his mind. 

She shifted her weight nervously as he approached, unsure how to respond until he towered over her with a look she knew all too well. 

Desire. 

Their senses were heightened. Everything felt surreal, almost as if one misstep could send them flying through a portal back to a more disappointing reality. 

Terry could smell the faint hint of mint on Patrice's breath before dipping his head to nip at her bottom lip with his teeth. She responded like he knew she would by making him work for his prize. Patrice never let him intimidate her. Not for their first time together all those years ago, certainly not now. 

He chuckled before leaning in again, this time leaving a trail of short kisses from her jaw to her clavicle. He inhaled deeply, breathing in vanilla and the subtle spice of his cologne from moments earlier.

Suddenly, Patrice felt weightless. Her feet dangled briefly and without warning as Terry took her from standing to sitting on the cold, hard counter before she could protest. 

Patrice fought for stability, using the peaks and valleys across the expanse of his muscled arms as her anchor in the dizzying experience that was his affection. Her lips parted to draw in sharp breaths and release airy sighs of approval in a feeble attempt to remain present. At the same time, he kissed his appreciation wherever his lips saw fit. Her legs acted under their own power to spread wider and make room for whatever came next. 

Her hands left a trail of tingles as she dragged them from his arms to the back of his head, down the sides of his face, over his tank top, between his pecs, and, finally, into the waistband of his shorts. 

Surprised by her touch, he lurched forward to grab her wrist. "Not this time," he whispered, unsure he meant what he was saying. 

Patrice nodded in understanding, earning a sloppy kiss for her obedience. 

There was no discerning where his mouth ended, and hers began. They were on one accord, hungrily tasting, exploring, and consuming each other without holding back. 

Then, the low hum returned. This time, it was closer than Patrice remembered. 

Cold silicone soon caressed her inner thigh. A low whimper escaped past her lips as she made eye contact with Terry. He leaned close enough to speak against her mouth. 

"You trust me?" 

"Mhmm," she answered, fighting to keep her eyes open as he moved further up her leg. 

"Let me take care of you, then. Take these off for me." 

Trembling fingers latched onto her boyshorts, pushing them to mid-thigh for Terry to take care of the rest. As quickly as he was gone, he'd returned for another taste of her tongue. Languid and unhurried, he used the time to relax her while slowly inching the vibrator to her center. 

Initial contact made her hips buck forward, and her head softly hit the mirror behind her. Terry chased her with sloppy kisses at the base of her neck. 

The slow and steady setting was enough to get her wet and sticky. Terry'd be lying if he said the thought alone didn't have him wanting to renege on his early statement and dive in with reckless abandon. But, he remained steadfast in his pursuit of her pleasure. 

Once the initial shock had worn off, Patrice ground her hips slowly, making small circles while the vibration worked to settle her nerves. Terry took a break from leaving praises in the form of kisses on her throat to smile at his girl. 

"You're beautiful. You know that?"

She gripped his chin and pulled him closer for a fiery kiss that he let her lead. "Yeah. But, I love to hear you say it." 

"Good," he answered, grinning at her confidence as he upped the intensity on her vibrator. Her eyes clamped shut as her entire body tensed. "Stay with me." 

A deep, steadying breath turned into a silent scream as Patrice gave in to the natural urge to hold her breath. Terry used his free hand to sneak up her tank top and grope one breast while pressing his lips to her ear. 

"Breathe, baby. In and out." He modeled the behavior until she found the strength to match his tempo. "There you go. You feel good?" 

"Yes, yes," she whisper-chanted to the ceiling, her head thrown back in unimaginable euphoria. 

"I want you to feel this good every day. You deserve it, right?" 

A twisting, turning feeling at the pit of her stomach forced her to draw in a deep breath to steady herself. Her answer came in a soft moan. "Right." 

"Damn right." Pressing his forehead to hers, he zeroed in on each of her features twisted in unthinkable pleasure. 

She kept her mouth open to sigh and moan as she saw fit. Her nostrils flared in a rhythm as she tried to force herself to breathe through every peak and valley of the moment. Her brows were knitted, and her eyes closed as if she were too afraid to look at him. He wondered what she was thinking. 

Did she want him inside of her as much as he wanted the same for himself? Was she yearning for more pressure? Could she feel how much he loved her?

"Don't get quiet on me. I want everything. Let 'em hear you. You need more?" 

A quick glance down helped him reposition the vibrator on her already sensitive bud, earning a guttural curse as appreciation for his good deed. 

"Fuck! Don't move. Please don't move." 

Terry obliged for the moment, too entranced by his view of her flower on full display for his viewing pleasure. Glistening. Wet. Beautiful. Appetizing like nothing he'd ever seen before. He pulled the toy away and replaced its presence with his thumb. Slow circles and firm pressure made her want to close her legs to escape the overwhelming stimulation, but her attempt was futile. She was at his mercy. 

"Damn," he whispered to himself, enamored by the way her body reacted to his touch. 

Every revolution around her clit brought with it more wetness at her entrance and indentations in his arms from her nails gripping for dear life. 

It wasn't enough to touch her. He needed to taste. 

Using his middle and ring fingers, he teased his introduction with gentle brushes against her inner lips. She keened for more against his mouth as she held his face close. He granted her wish and pushed into her slowly, immediately feeling her warmth envelop his long digits. 

Their mouths hung open, breaths being traded between the two as he set a slow pace. Not enough to bring forth a release. Just enough for Terry to get what he came for. 

Removing his fingers left him with a coating of clear arousal nearly dripping to his knuckles. Patrice watched him as he smirked at the sight, examining it like a jeweler appraising precious diamonds. 

When he'd seen enough, he put both fingers into his mouth and closed his eyes to savor the taste. Patrice's mouth hung open as if waiting for her turn to experience the wonders of her juices. 

Had she closed her eyes for even a second, she would have missed Terry extending his tongue from his mouth to allow a mixture of his saliva and her essence the chance to slide from his tongue in anticipation of a new host. 

Something profound and hungry within her made her lean her head back and hold her tongue out to receive all that he had to give. It excited her, delighted her, and aroused her like never before.

Like a lewd work of art, spit connected their tongues in what would otherwise be seen as an infraction among more proper circles. But fuckin' wasn't proper, and all forms of affection were welcomed in their home. 

Almost immediately, Terry rushed to reward her with a wild and frenzied kiss that nearly surprised him. 

Primal. Carnal. Intense. Fucking disgusting. He loved every minute of it.

The race was on. Terry kept their lips connected as he returned the vibrator to her clit, dialing up the settings to a level below their max. 

Patrice's moans and his couldn't be distinguished from one another. Her hips bucked wildly. Her fingernails left marks in their wake as they scratched at his arms and back. Her body twitched and seized in anticipation of the inevitable. 

"Oh my - fuck!" Satisfied tears slid from the corners of her eyes and down her cheeks to her man's awaiting lips. "Terrence!" 

Terry remained locked in. A man possessed. A one-track mind focused on nothing other than completing the mission. 

The first stage of her orgasm came without a warning. Heat washed over her as if she'd stepped outside at high noon, making her skin almost unbearable to live in. Her toes curled, her voice caught in her throat despite the intense desire to release a scream from the depths of her soul into the atmosphere. 

She thanked Terry and God in Heaven for blessing her with the opportunity to touch the moon and the stars without ever leaving her home. Terry used his free hand to grip and massage her thighs, knowing that the best was yet to come. 

Patrice's voice began to climb as the main event approached. Shallow breaths gave way to loud gasps for air, which came rapidly while she did the same. She was suspended in a beautiful bliss and already sad about the prospect of coming down. 

Her lover reveled in the opportunity to see her unraveling at the seams. 

"I'll always come back to you, beautiful. No matter what, okay? Look at me." His request earned intense focus from Patrice under hooded eyes. "You're so pretty. Say it back to me. Tell me you're pretty."

"I'm so pretty!" Impending release sent all her words out in one breathless sentence. 

He smiled at her compliance. "I know you're close. Hold my hand."

Her fingers scrambled against the counter, filling the spaces between his fingers and gripping with enough force to turn her knuckles a lighter shade of brown. 

"That's my girl. I love you," was all he could manage before Patrice let out something akin to a squeal, turning his declaration into background fodder. 

Sensitive, overstimulated, and completely spent, the after-effects of her release had her panting to recover. Her ears rang with a heady feeling that could only be compared to a few puffs of homegrown bud. 

Terry held her through it all, propping her up while her body sagged against him for stability. He put aside the vibrator to run his palms up and down her legs while he showered her temple with whispered praises and sweet kisses. 

He waited until her breathing was even before gingerly pressing his forehead to hers. "You good?" 

His smirk was incredibly smug. He was proud of himself, and for good reason. She was open to giving credit where credit was due. 

"You can never leave this house without me again. I hope you're happy." 

"That's the whole point. My granny taught me some things during them summers down in New Orleans, you know?" 

"Oh, so this is some magic shit?" 

"Family business, baby. Gotta have the last name to find out." A playful glint in his eyes and a squeeze to her waist made Patrice's stomach feel butterflies that she thought would never return. Terry tapped her nose with his index finger and stepped back. "Stay put. I'll clean you up." 

Patrice scoffed. Stay put. As if she could go anywhere. As if she wanted to go anywhere.

Like the perfect gentleman, Terry was tender with his care. A warm towel to soothe sore muscles and ensure a thorough cleanup was mandatory. The extra loving was complimentary for only his favorite lady. 

"Stay with me tonight," Patrice requested as he slid her panties back up her legs. 

He shook his head and smiled while prompting her to lift her hips. "I don't know if that's a good idea, Treecey." 

"I just wanna be next to you. Nothing more." 

Terry regarded her doe-eyed plea with a small smile as he helped her off the counter. He pulled her into an embrace, fiending for one more kiss. She obliged happily until he'd had his fill. 

His hands slid from her sides to her ass for a generous squeeze before answering. 

"Okay. Whatever you want. Let me handle something real quick, and then I'll meet you there." 

Patrice accepted her victory with a silly happy dance before turning to make enough room in her bed for an extra person. Terry sent her on her way with a light tap to her ass, amused by how something as simple as sleeping next to each other was exciting for her. 

Once she was safely out of the bathroom with the door shut behind her, he finally found time to take a deep breath and compose himself. The actual test of his strength was in the next room, and he couldn't risk the trust he'd worked so hard to build. 

After adjusting his shorts, he picked up his phone and sat on the toilet lid, hoping that watching dog videos or Nationals highlights would clear his mind.

He had every intention of opening the web browser on his phone until he noticed a series of messages from an old friend.

From: McBride 

You check your mail? 

Trial against chief starts in two weeks. Gonna need you to testify to take him down

Know you said you weren’t coming back

Do it for Mike

---

TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @oniccah @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse @yaachtynoboat711 @jenlovey @pinkpantheris @blowmymbackout @deja-r

[luvf4ngz]

HOT LOVE ON THE WING - jason todd.

Descripton: You’re not upset about your most recent breakup; you’re just upset you have no one to fuck anymore. Good thing your Shakespeare loving best friend, Jason, has a solution to that.

Contents: This Bad Boy Is PACKED With Shakespeare References, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cheating (Not By Jason Or Reader), You And Jason Are Absolute Fucking DORKS, Good Friend Jason Todd, Best Friend Jason Todd, Self-Indulgent, Cunnilingus, Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Female Reader, HEAVY Banter, Hair-pulling, Vaginal Fingering, Squirting, Overstimulation :), Pet Names, Praise Kink, Dacryphilia, Soft Jason Todd, Dom Jason Todd, Missionary Position, Doggy Style, Cowgirl Position, Nipple Play, Spanking, Rough Sex, Dumbification, Fucked Stupid, Unrealistic Sex, Unprotected Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Spit/Drool, Goofy Giggly Sex, But Also Hard and Fast Sex, Jason Destroys Your Spiderman Panties :(

Word Count: 3131

Author's Note: If it wasn't obvious from the tags this is a repost from my AO3 hehe. This is genuinely my favorite fic I've ever written, I hope you enjoy it as much as I do :) <3

“It’s okay, pretty girl. You can take it, can’t you? You made a big show of defying me earlier, put your money where your mouth is - right?”

You threw open the door to his dorm, instantly honing in on his bed and diving into the soft plush. Jason is sitting at his desk, looking up at you from his book with a roll of his eyes at your dramatic entrance. 

“Well, hello to you too.” His tone is dripping with sarcasm, but his smile betrays his facade. “It’s nice to see you again, stranger. How long has it been, hm?” He teases, his words alluding to the fact that you’ve been spending less time with him lately in favor of being with your “new boy toy” - as he put it.

You let out a hum into the comforter before moving to your side to properly look at him. “Well I think you’ll be very happy to hear that I’m all yours again, Todd, so there’s no need to be jealous.” You cheekily reply. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” His eyebrows knit together in confusion. You thought it made him look adorable.

“I broke up with my ‘boy toy’, as you so politely called him.” You giggled out, using your fingers as quotation marks for emphasis. 

“What!? What happened?” Jason’s eyes widened at the news you so casually dropped.

“Apparently he’s been cheating on me for some time. My friend showed me some pictures of him shoving his tongue down some girl’s throat at a party so I broke it off with him this morning. Anyways, what’s been going on in Jay-Land?” You grin widely as you gaze at him from the bed.

Your attempt at changing the topic of conversation went unsuccessful. 

Jason sat up from his spot, setting his book down before hurriedly making his way over to you, settling down beside you on the bed.

“Are you okay?”

“Don’t I seem okay to you? I’m just fine, dude.” You tried to reassure him, your voice unwavering and relaxed as your eyes followed him.

“I mean, I guess; but I thought you really liked him.” 

“It seems like you want me to be sad over this. What do you want me to say? ‘Tears seven times salt burn the sense and virtue from mine eyes!’” You gasp out the line dramatically, bringing a hand to cover your heart and the other to wipe non-existent tears from your face, before bursting out into giggles. 

“Don’t you go quoting Shakespeare at me! That’s my role in this friendship!” Jason playfully nudges your shoulder as a wide grin breaks out on his own face.

“The Jason doth protest too much, methinks.” You do your best to put on a snooty tone, but your laughter prevents it. 

“Oh, shut up.” 

Another round of cackles start up between the two of you, and you both relish in the comfortable silence that falls after. 

“You know,” You start, breaking the silence and making Jason’s head turn towards you. “There is one thing I’m sad about.”

“What?”

“His dick game was mad good.” You say with an extravagant sigh. “I’m gonna miss it.” You fake a few sniffles.

“Aw, come on now. There’s other dick out there.” 

“Nah, it’s too much work. I’ll just have to survive without it for now. ‘But I have that within which passeth show; these but the trappings and the suits of woe.’”

“I can’t believe he’s got you so cock-drunk that you’re quoting Hamlet.” Jason tsks out in false disapproval. “He’s not good enough to be depressed for.”

“He’s not, but the sex definitely was.” 

“It couldn’t have been that good.”

“It was.”

“Not better than what I could do though.”

“Ehhhhhh…” You squinch your face together in overplayed disbelief, causing him to fix you with a sharp glare and a hurt gasp. 

“Is that a challenge?” He smirked, his eyes narrowing in competitiveness. 

“I know it not ‘seems’.” 

“You cheeky motherfucker.” Jason smiles out before grabbing your waist and throwing you further up the bed. It causes you to let out a startled yelp as Jason moved to hover over your body.

“Oh? You gonna prove it to me, Todd? You must be overcompensating for something if you get this riled up over such a small comment. You know, if you wanted to fuck me - you could have just asked.”

“Funny, I was about to say the exact same thing.” He leans in to bite your neck, making your body jolt against his.

“Hey! Play nice, Todd.” You scold, slapping his shoulder before wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I’m ever so sorry, madam.” He fake pouts before attacking your face with kisses. 

“Stop!” You squeal out, giggles erupting uncontrollably from the ticklish sensation. You move your hands to his chest, pushing him away from you. “Are you ever gonna get on with it, or are you just gonna keep messing around?”

“That’s a fair thought: to lie between maids’ legs.” 

“Ugh, it doesn’t sound as good when you do it.” 

“Excuse you? I’m a Shakespeare quoting champ!” 

“You’re awfully defensive today, Todd.” You note with a grin. 

“Keep talking, princess, see what happens.” He jokingly warns. 

He pulls back from you to pull his shirt over his head, before going to tug at his pants. You follow after him, sitting up to discard your own clothing. Once you both are left in your underwear, Jason pushes you flat against the bed again. 

“Spiderman panties. Cute.” 

“Shut up. It’s not like I planned for this to happen.” You grumbled out at his observation. You forgot about them and your cheeks burned with embarrassment.

“Mhm, sure, sweetheart.”

Jason starts planting sloppy kisses on your skin, trailing his way down your body until he’s reached your waistband. He shuffles down the bed and lies down between your legs, leaning in to snatch the fabric of your underwear between his teeth and ripping it off your legs. 

“Jay! I liked that pair!”

“My bad, princess, I’ll be sure to buy you some new ones.”

“Better still be spiderman.”

“I’m more Team Cap.” He disserts before gripping your thighs and dragging your core closer to his face; the back of your calves rest on his shoulders. 

His eyes drag down your glistening pussy before he lets out a loud wolf whistle at the sight.

“Ew, Todd!” You laugh, trying to kick him for the action but the hold he has on you is too tight to allow movement. 

“What? I’m just appreciating the view.”

He dips his head down, tongue flicking at your hooded clit before he wraps his lips and around the bud and sucks. He feels your thighs tighten around his head as your own tilts up to let out a loud moan. He replaces his tongue with his fingers, expertly working the nub in circles as he peers up at you. 

Your head is turned to the side, eyes clenched and lips spilling shaky whines. 

‘A damn nice sight’, if he did say so himself.

He continues to stimulate your clit with his thumb, pressing his tongue to your dripping hole to lap up your arousal. 

“Fuck, Jason! You really know how to put the money where your mouth is,” You mumble into the sheets, hips bucking up every once in a while from the pleasure. 

Jason grips you tighter, preventing you from moving. He briefly looks up to note “I think you’ll find I know how to use my mouth quite well”, before moving to continue eating you out.

His actions are faster, more feverous. His tongue runs up and down your sex, your slick coating his taste buds. He savors it - lets out a deep hum that reverberates through your pussy and up your spine, sending shivers through your body. He sucks and slurps at you, so passionate that you swear you can feel your soul escaping through your cunt. The wet smacks do nothing but turn you on more, your thighs pressing closer to his head and acting as earmuffs. 

Your hands move from their place bunched in his sheets to his hair, tanging the dark locks between your fingers and instinctively tugging. It causes a low groan to tear from his throat, the bass and depth of it fueling the uncontrollable hot ache in your stomach. That only makes you want to do it again. The second tug makes a sound that’s akin to a growl, before Jason pauses his movements to stare up at you.

“Careful, princess. Don’t bite off more than you can chew.” 

It’s a sight to behold. Jason: heaving, eyes blown, his face shiny from your smeared slick. His mouth is open, panting - his gaze refusing to leave contact with yours. There’s mischief glimmering in the depth of his eyes. 

You don’t reply - only smirk, and yank his head closer to your sex again. 

“Oh, you’ve done it now.” 

His hand moves from your clit to your dripping hole, two fingers pushing their way inside you. His lips reattach to your clit as he starts to move his fingers - fast and rough and leaving you no time to adjust to his intrusion. 

“J-Jesus fuck!” He can feel your thighs twitching, can feel your fingers gripping onto his hair hard in response, and it only spurs him on more. 

His palm smacks against your cunt with each hit, splattering your slick. His fingers move at an unfathomable speed, pads searching for that one spot inside you that will make you see white. 

You’re whimpering and whining above him, senses overwhelmed at Jason’s rough ministrations. It’s too much: the pressure building inside you. It feels like you’re on the edge, senses ready to fall into a never-ending pit of endorphins and fear and exhilaration. There are fireworks inside you, lit and ready to burst and fry all of your sensibilities. 

Finally, it happens - what Jason’s been waiting for. With a slightly tilted angle of his hand and a curl of his fingers, he finds it. He knows because you suddenly tense up; because you let out the most angelic, strung-out moan he’s ever heard; because your walls clamp down on his fingers and a jet of tangy, sweet liquid hits his awaiting tongue. 

God he wishes he could watch you cum over and over and over. He’s gonna think back to this moment when he’s fucking his fist in the future - that’s for sure. The view of you - back arched, eyes teary. The sensation of you - warm and wet and tight against his digits. The sound of you - desperate and high pitched and wailing out his name. He wants it all burned into his brain.

“Jason, Jason!” Yeah, that’s the sound of heaven alright. “Jay! Stop! I came- I can’t!”

Hm?

Oh. He hasn’t stopped pumping his fingers inside you. Oh, well.

“It’s okay, pretty girl. You can take it, can’t you? You made a big show of defying me earlier, put your money where your mouth is - right?”

God, you’re shaking. You look like a leaf shivering in the wind, or a cat left out in the rain. Your eyes are glossy and teary and fuck. You look so beautiful falling apart for him. 

Your brain is in shambles, screaming and begging for a reprieve. It’s dizzying, the assault of your sensations. All you can hear, think, feel is Jason.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, please!”

“Come on, princess. Just let go. Just one more for me, yeah?”

You can’t tell if the second orgasm hits you like a train or slowly drowns you in its weight. Maybe a mix of both - a crashing of a tsunami that simultaneously relieves your ache and steals your breath. 

You’re sobbing, trembling, gasping for breath and trying to regain feeling from the clouds that seem to have replaced your nerves. 

“You did so well.” Jason cooes. He’s sitting up, suckling your juices from his fingers like you were a decadent 5-star meal.

He moves to lay down beside you, pulling your body to curl into his, back to peppering your cheeks with chaste, affectionate kisses. 

“Fuck, Jason.” You heave out, still slightly out of it. 

“Was that okay? Did I get carried away?” He questions softly, concern lacing the green in his eyes. 

“Yeah, no, that was great.” You quickly reassure him. “I just- wow. I need a moment.” 

He chuckles quietly before holding you close to his body again. “So? Did I exceed your expectations?”

“Don’t get cocky. Hubris was the downfall of Macbeth.” You shuffle closer to him. “Speaking of cocky, is that a dagger - or are you just happy to see me?”

“I’m always happy to see you princess,” Jason croons. “but I am extremely rock hard right now, too.”

Your hands drift down his body, sensually tracing every muscle from his chest to his pelvis, before tugging off his boxers.

You swing your body on top of his, straddling his waist as you begin pumping his cock. 

“Well then” You start, positioning yourself on top of his awaiting member, “O’ happy dagger, this is thy sheath…”

You start to sink down on him as you finish the quote, your words trailing off into a wanton moan. 

“I’d yell at you for saying something so stupid if you weren’t fucking squeezing my cock right now.” Jason manages to huff out. His teeth are gritted, eyes shut as he tries not to cum at the sensation of you wrapped warm and tight around him. 

His large hands settle on your waist as yours plant themselves on his chest for support. 

“You have to admit, it’s clever wordplay.” You mewl, mind fuzzy from the sensation of his dick stretching you out. 

Tingles shoot up your body as the pain dissolves into a delicious fullness. You crave friction, your very core feels like it's aching for it. In fact, you think you’ll go insane if you don’t start moving right now. 

You carefully lift your hips up, before dropping back down again, repeating the motion over and over until you’ve built up a somewhat regular rhythm. 

Moans ceaselessly flow from your lips, interspersed with mumbled swears and curses.

Your head is tipped forward, your hair falling into your face. Jason’s hand comes up to brush it back behind your ear, before gently cupping your cheek.

“You feel so good baby, fuck.” He grunts.

His other hand comes up to undo your bra, releasing your tits to him. Both palms move to cup them, kneading at the soft flesh before working your perked nipples with his fingers. 

You still your movements with a whine, too confounded by the assault of stimulations you were feeling. That doesn’t mean that you’re not still desperate and yearning, though. Your thighs do their best to rub against each other, trying to chase friction despite your inaction. 

It’s only as you rest that you feel how sore your legs have become, enough that you let out a pitiful mewl. 

“Is my pretty baby tired?” Jason muses, while he’s still pinching and rolling your sensitive buds. 

“Mhm,” You moan out in reply. 

He quickly rolls the both of you over, laying you down onto your back again before flipping you onto your stomach. 

You quickly shuffle onto your knees, arching back against him in wait. 

“Good girl,” He laughs out. His palms rub against your cheeks, squeezing the flesh there before pulling back and giving it a slap. 

It earns him a broken moan from your throat, and the view of your ass shaking in desperation.

It only makes him laugh again. “Have some patience, naughty girl.”

He spanks you again, and you keen so high-pitched and pretty that he can only relent to your demands. 

Jason grips his cock and guides it to your wet folds, sliding it up and down before finally pushing in. You welcome him easily, pussy molding perfectly to his thick cock. 

A hand settles on your waist while the other tangles into your hair. He yanks your head back as he starts fucking you hard and fast. 

His hips smack hard against your ass with each thrust, slowly turning the skin there sore and heated. His cock is bullying its way in and out of you, the tip knocking against your sweet spot with a force that repeatedly knocks the breath and thoughts out of you. 

Your eyes are rolled back, brain melted, as drool drips from your lips. 

Chants of “fuck” and “Jay” are the only sounds your mouth remembers how to make now. 

“Just keep saying my name like that, sweetheart.” Jason pants out. 

He can’t believe how good you feel around him. You’re so warm and wet that his cock glides in and out so easy, making it effortless for him to abuse your poor cunt. 

The hand in your hair guides you up to him, back pressed against his sweaty chest as he tilts your head and leans in for a kiss. 

It’s messy with your spit and drool, both your movements uncoordinated and sloppy. 

He fucks up into you all the while, gravity allowing him to hit harder and deeper inside you.

He can feel that you’re close again - your body is twitching against him, your cunt beginning to spasm. 

The hand on your waist reaches to rub quick and hard circles against your clit, and you’re gone.

Your whole body shudders as you soak his cock, before going limp is his hold. It’s an intense buzzing sensation that overtakes you, settling deep in your veins until you’re trapped in a pleasing static. Your head is submerged in sticky syrup that makes it hard to think, so you just indulge in the calming weight of it. 

Jason pulls out and gently maneuvers your dazed body back to the bed, hand working himself to completion before finishing on your stomach - his warm cum splattering on the skin as he lets out a husky grunt.

He stays there, catching his breath for a few moments before he disappears to the bathroom while you come down from your high, washing his hands and grabbing a damp towel to bring back to you. 

He wipes you clean before poking your cheek until your gaze refocuses on him.

“How was it?” He cheekily smirks. 

“I certainly died a lovely death in thy lap,” You chuckle.

“If you can still quote Shakespeare I didn’t fuck you dumb enough.” Jason frowns.

“Awh, cheer up, you big baby.” You reach out to pat his head endearingly, “I change my mind; your dick game is definitely better.”

“YES!” Jason fist-pumps like he just scored a touch-down and you smile at how stupid he looks. “Okay, now you go pee.” He shoos you away. “I’ll change the sheets and we can watch reruns of Gossip Girl again.”

“I would not wish any companion in the world but you.” You fake tear-up, wiping your eyes before giggling the whole way to the bathroom. 

Thank you so much for reading! A comment or reblog is much appreciated. Have a great day <3

- sumi ☆ミ

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