Reward if you read the whole post: democracy; pictures at bottom of cats high as clouds on fresh catnip toys.
What Prop 50 does:
Prop 50 temporarily rearranges California Congressional districts to "create" up to 5 new left-leaning districts.
This will last through the 2030 elections, after which our independent, politically neutral redistricting commission will resume its work (based on the 2030 census).
Why YES?
Prop 50 will balance the Republicans' attempt to skew Congress in their favor.
CONTEXT: This summer, at the urging of Trump, Texas's legislature redrew their Congressional map to "create" (flip) 5 new right-leaning districts. Texas Democrats literally left the state en masse to postpone it! In that delay, CA's Gov. Newsom said, "If you do that, California will counter you" - it's literally written into Prop 50 that this will go into effect if TX goes forward with its plan.
TX didn't hesitate. It will have 5 new right-wing districts in 2026. That would, at best, make the House 224 Republican to 208 Democrat. We need to hit back.
"But that's just sinking to their level!" Yes, I, too, literally cannot believe that deliberate political gerrymandering is legal. It's blatantly undemocratic in principle. However, aren't you tired of winning the moral high ground and nothing else?
I'm afraid it's that "lesser evil" thing again - but this REALLY is the lesser evil. Ultimately, redistricting causes no direct harm - it's what the people who get elected do that causes harm. We Californians will still vote for our best representatives, and they'll be more progressive (on average) than before! Whereas it's very, very clear that Republicans in Congress do cause harm, in enabling Trump's ICE raids and attacks on free speech, legislating their own Medicare cuts and handouts to billionaires...
This isn't "but they started it!" hair-pulling; this self-defense, for American democracy and for everyone whom a Trump/Republican-controlled federal government will hurt.
Also, that motherfucker mobilized the California National Guard without the California Governor's permission, and sent Marines into Los Angeles, and is kidnapping people off the street and withholding aid for wildfires while insulting our attempts to manage them (which aren't perfect, but hey), and is generally, y'know, hurting people nationwide and undermining key foundations of civil society in service to his own ego, and I'm Californian and I'm FUCKING PISSED. We are the 4th biggest economy in the WORLD (recently passed Japan!) and we will KICK YOU IN THE FUCKING TEETH in defense of democracy, our people, and everyone else in this stupid country!!!
Newsom & the CA legislature have drawn the maps and made the plans. All you have to do is vote YES this November - then vote for your new Representative in Nov 2026! Remember, we get to overthrow our government every other year, and it's both a right and a privilege!
AND it's only temporary! The Democrats still stand for independent, apolitical district-drawing commissions. This is a temporary emergency measure which will end in 2030.
More References:
Text of Prop 50
Helpful breakdown of context, arguments, and explicit & potential consequences from CaliforniaToday.com
REGISTER TO VOTE IN CALIFORNIA! Registration deadline for this vote is October 20. (Election is 11/4.)
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Stopping yourself mid-conflict to change your perspective is allowed! It’s okay and normal to be mid argument with someone and realize you disagree with your own stance. Often I find myself and others caught up in trying to win the argument (not the point of arguments!) or too embarrassed to back down and be wrong. I promise there is so much more pride in going “Stop! I’m wrong. I hear you and I see how I wasn’t in the right and I want to amend my view” than digging your heels in.
Summary: Ever since Daniela broke up with you, your life has been going to hell. Her attitude turned nasty towards you while your feelings don’t seem to want to fade away and only more are brought to the light at one of your ex’s parties.
“Ugh!”
Everything in the universe seemed to team up against you lately. There was not even a second for a break as one thing kept coming after another.
First, the subway broke down. Halfway to your classes. Causing you to run late and sweaty, bursting through the door like a wild animal, startling even your professor.
There was not much to say besides mumbling apologies and looking at the floor in shame. You had never felt as embarrassed as in that moment. Everything was spilling from your shoulder bag while it kept sliding down your arm.
It could’ve been hot in the room, but you definitely were aware that the heat on your cheeks was there for a different reason.
Of course, it was. Everybody stared at you, it was mortifying.
That was not the worst part of your day, however.
Just as you were about to play one of the songs you had prepared for another class, one of the guitar strings decided to give out, quickly changing your A grade to a zero.
The professor was not too happy with you and the circumstances—like you wanted your instrument to fuck it up.
Maybe you should have taken a second guitar with you after all. Your best friend had joked about it before you’d left for the day. Back then, you’d thought it was the stupidest idea ever.
You hated how it became something you wished you had done now.
But it was not the end.
Because right after that class, the coffee machine decided to be a goddamm bitch today, shooting the stream to the side, causing it to bounce off the cup and right at your new, white dress shirt.
Your stomach felt like on fire, making you quickly move to the side while grabbing napkins and attempting to block more liquid from spilling.
It was unfortunate, really. Your internship interview was supposed to take place later in the day. Now, the outfit was ruined.
And your chances of getting to the corporate world at Dream Academy probably as well.
“Here you go, Clumsy.” Your tired eyes raised from the table, squinting when the sun shone right into them as the girl threw something in front of you.
It only became bearable to look when Sophia blocked the stray of light, letting you finally see her amused and judgmental expression.
“What is—”
“A new shirt.” She said before you could even get a full sentence out, putting the straw between her lips, and slurping on her smoothie.
Your shocked face quickly dropped to the item, ruffling through the bag before taking out what made your shoulders feel light like a feather.
“God, you’re an angel.” The relief washed over you like a bucket of cold water at the sight of the clean clothing.
“I know.” She did not even try to be humble as smugness spread on her every facial feature.
You would let that go without a bite back this time. She was too nice. She saved your life—possibly your entire future career. You had to be kind. You could not be a dick right now.
“I thought the guitar incident was funny, but I decided to come to your rescue after you texted about this.” She pointed at the stain on your shirt with raised eyebrows.
Yup, it was still there. You tried to cover up the best you could. Which was not a lot. It was hot outside, so you hadn’t taken anything additional. The only thing you could do was to put your shoulder bag at the front.
You could not help but roll your eyes at the judgmental look she served you with again. Unbuttoning the dirty piece of clothing, you slowly started pulling it down your arms, uncovering a white t-shirt underneath.
“Don’t even say anything, today is shit.”
The girl snorted immediately, her lips spreading into an amused smile as her hands embraced the cup.
“Like yesterday?” She asked. “And the day before? And the day before that one too—”
“Okay.” You said defeated, throwing the dirty shirt on the table with a frown. “It hasn’t been my—month or two, I guess.”
“More like five.” Your face dropped at her nonchalance, how flawlessly the words flew out of her mouth before she sipped on her drink.
Like she had been dying to finally say it.
But she was not wrong. It’d been pretty terrible for a while. Like nothing could stay on the good path. Nothing could go well in your life.
“And—” Sophia started in a sing-song voice as she dragged out the word while scrolling on her phone. “The very reason of it is currently walking here.”
Huh?
The confusion hit you like a truck when your brows scrunched at her.
“Hi.” That was all it took for your eyes to gauge out of their sockets.
This was the last thing—or person—you needed around now. Sophia knew it by the look she gave you before gazing up.
“Hey, Dani.” Your best friend replied with a wide smile.
A smile.
Why was she smiling? There was nothing to smile about. Especially, so happily? No.
You sent her a small glare—which she ignored—while staying silent and grabbing the new dress shirt.
Those months of not being great? You blamed Daniela for it. In a figurative way. It was not really her fault. However, ever since you had broken up, everything had been going to shit.
You could not have a normal day. Not even one. Maybe because your two-year relationship had vanished like nothing. Maybe because you were still mad at her.
Or maybe it was a coincidence.
But there was also a very small—big really—possibility as to why your life had seemed to take a course to ruin itself.
“I’m hosting a party at the sorority house.” Your ex said in a chirpy tone. The same one she stopped using with you five months ago. “Obviously, you’re invited.”
Your eyes mentally rolled, a smug smile almost threatened to break on your face as you knew Sophia’s answer already.
“I sure will.”
Or not. Maybe you did not know.
Your head slowly tilted at the girl as if to say ‘what the fuck?’. Because what the fuck? Clearly, there was a traitor in your pack of two.
And it was not you.
You inhaled through your nose, your shoulders raising as you bit the inside of your cheek, raising an eyebrow at Sophia.
It seemed to catch Daniela’s attention when her eyes moved to you, turning annoyed. Like you were a nuisance.
“I guess you can come too.” Her bored tone made your tongue click while she stared at her nails.
“So generous of you.” Your eyes blinked rapidly as you finally moved your gaze to her.
It had been a while since you actually looked at her face. Burying yourself in work and studying definitely helped with ignoring Daniela.
At least, for a little bit.
“A little bit of charity work never hurt anybody, right?” Her lips spread into a warm grin, but you knew better.
She ever only smiled like that when she knew she would win. And she was winning now. Because you had no idea what to say back.
You could only stare at the table while running your tongue over your upper teeth.
Maybe she was not guilty of your shitty months, but she was definitely to blame for her assholish behavior.
“Anyway.” She breathed out like talking to you took too much of her energy. “See you at the party, Soph.”
“Sure thing.” The black-haired girl replied, grinning widely as your ex turned around and walked away.
Your eyes zeroed in on—who you thought was—your best friend as they squinted.
“Sure thing?” You mocked her lightly. “Really?”
“What?” She asked defensively. “She’s just trying to be nice.”
Your eyes widened to the size of an orbit. Nice? Since the hell when? You had not seen nice from Daniela even a bit since your break-up.
“Did we witness the same conversation or were you on a different planet?”
“Oh my God.” Her eyes rolled. “You’re acting like you hate her when we both know the truth.”
Well, that closed your mouth really fast. And when you tried to open it back up, only stutters and incoherent words came out of it.
“N-no, I—well—it’s not—”
“Honestly.” She gave you a look that said more than enough how done she was with this charade. “Either get over her, or get her under you.”
You almost choked on air while Sophia slurped on her smoothie, staring at you boredly.
“W-what? I don’t—” Blowing a raspberry, you quickly looked to the side, feeling the heat spreading on your cheeks.
There was nothing you could say to defend yourself. You still loved Daniela. You still wanted her. You still regretted the break-up. It was the most idiotic and smartest decision at the same time.
Good for your sanity and peace. But not for your heart. You missed her. But it was easier to act like you did not care. It was simpler to pretend and mimic her behavior.
Because she clearly was over you. Otherwise, she would not turn into your biggest bully on the campus.
“Yes, you do.” Your best friend stated firmly, uncrossing her legs and moving them to the side. “And maybe going to that party will only help with clearing things up for you.” Her shoulders shrugged as she finished her drink.
“No, because I won’t be there.”
“Yes, you will.”
“Nope.” You popped the ‘p’, folding your hands on the table.
“You’re going whether you want it or not.” Sophia said sternly, getting up from her seat.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
You were going to the party. With Sophia. Right at your side. Like some babysitter who wanted to make sure you would not run off.
Your grumpy expression hadn’t come off ever since she had forced you to get dressed—after picking your outfit.
Yeah, you couldn’t have even picked your own damn clothes. At least, she chose nice and comfortable things. But you hadn’t missed how she’d hung up on the shirts, running through them before picking the one Daniela had always liked on you.
Liked was a misunderstanding. Her pupils would blow fully every time you had worn it.
“Stop being so awkward.” Sophia scolded you, smacking your arm, and bringing you out of your thoughts.
Her entire body shook as she groaned loudly with an unhappy face, fixing her leather jacket as if you had just offended her.
“Me? You’re the one who’s been fidgety the whole way here.” You fired back instantly, pointing at the girl and her fiddling fingers.
Her brows furrowed before she dropped her gaze. She quickly tensed her hands and crossed her arms while giving you a look like you had nothing against her anymore.
“Why are you even anxious? It’s not your ex that is hosting the party.”
Her eyes rolled before she sent you a light glare.
“I’m not anxious.”
“Uh-hu, sure.” She should know better than lie about this.
You’d known each other since elementary school. Every tick, every little reaction she would make, you knew. You could recognize the patterns right away.
“Ugh, you’re making me anxious.” She exclaimed, slapping your arm again while looking at you irritated.
The punch injected immeasurable amount of puzzlement into you. Because there was nothing you had done lately to make her mad.
“What the hell did I do?!” Your shoulders raised as your hands gestured at your chest. “You are literally forcing me to go to this stupid party.”
“You need to face your demons!” She almost yelled out, face determined like she just delivered the strongest line in her entire life.
But you could only stare at her with a blank expression.
“I face her every day!”
“You need to face her more!”
Your little yelling match was taking up so much of your attention that neither of you noticed how close to the house you were.
“Hey, guys!” Not until one of the girls yelled out to you.
Both of your heads snapped with wide eyes as she waved. Grins plastered on your faces right away, greeting the girl back as you reached the door, hoping she did not hear anything.
“All the good stuff is inside.” Megan said with a wide smile, throwing a wink in the process.
Of course, there would be good stuff. Not drugs. No, never. Just a bunch of different alcohol. Daniela’s family lived pretty comfortably, so she had money for more expensive liquor.
That was why everyone loved her parties—which increased in number since your break-up. You had laughed to your best friend that it had been a long break-up celebration even for Daniela. But you did not find it funny.
Laugh through the pain, right?
Without another word, you and Sophia headed inside. Your hands were sweating, causing you to constantly wipe them on your pants.
This was already a nightmare. You did not need this. Why were you even here? You could’ve fought her back one hundred percent.
But you did not.
You let her force you.
You let Sophia bring you here.
And now, you wanted to leave.
“You’re not going anywhere, Pup.” The black-haired girl said, staring ahead while your eyes whipped to her. “I can literally read your thoughts.” Her gaze lazily moved to you. “They are written all over your face.”
You could only scoff with an eye roll.
Sometimes, it was really inconvenient how well she knew you.
“Just let loose.” She said, shrugging her shoulders with a grin. But it soon turned into a smirk as she looked at you. “I heard there is someone with a crush on you.”
Your eyes widened, mouth dropping open, causing the girl to laugh almost evilly. And just like that, she started walking away, slowly disappearing in the sea of people.
“Wait!” You finally snapped out of the shock. “Who?!”
Nothing about your behavior screamed ‘let loose’. It did not even whisper it. You were anxiously standing to the side, watching everybody at the party like a hawk.
Sophia’s words had been haunting you for the last hour. A crush. Whose crush? Who could it be? You needed to know, so you could avoid them.
You were not scared of people liking you, but it was not necessarily ideal to have others hit on you. Not when you were in your current emotional state—which was severely damaged.
Nothing in you was ready for a new relationship. Heck, you still wanted your previous one back. But you would not tell anybody.
Besides Sophia, of course.
Who had been gone almost this whole time. You’d seen her maybe three times. Once outside, another time in the hallway, and one more in the kitchen as she had talked to Manon.
Daniela’s best friend.
You thought it was weird.
But again.
During your relationship, all three girls had gotten pretty close, so it was not really surprising that Manon and Sophia tried to maintain their friendship.
The lack of your best friend’s presence around you caused your previous complaints about her babysitting to vanish. You would love to have Sophia with you now.
You did not appreciate what you had. Not enough. And now, you felt dizzy from all the noise, crowd, and constant nerves spiking at every girl who would come up to you.
You did not want to string anyone along. You would nicely reject the person as soon as possible.
“Did you get stuck here?” A voice snapped your head to the side.
A gorgeous, dark-skinned girl with a nose piercing was grinning up at you as she held a red cup.
You knew her. Not well, but enough to realize who she was.
Lara Raj.
“Uh—” You stuttered, not having an idea of what to say back. “No, why?”
“Well, for starters, you’ve been glued to this wall ever since you came here.” Lara pointed out, her voice calm and collected.
But a hint of teasing was swirling in it as she squinted one of her eyes in a playful manner.
“Oh.” You huffed out a laugh. “I’m just not really uh—a partying type.”
“Could’ve fooled me.” Her sarcastic comment caused another chuckle to pass your lips as you looked down shyly. It did not help when you saw her tongue run along her teeth as she looked you up and down. “Let’s dance.”
The next second, she was putting her cup away and grabbing your hand. Your face tensed in horror, feeling your heartbeat pick up the pace like a Formula 1 race car.
“Oh, I’m not— I mean, I don’t really—”
“It’s gonna be fun!” She exclaimed happily, not letting go, and dragging you deeper into the sea of people.
Your mouth went dry at how close everyone was to each other. How close they were going to be to you. That only made things worse. You did not want to feel their sweaty bodies grind on yours.
Seemed like you would not have much choice when Lara’s face whipped around, turning back to you, and getting really, really, close.
“So tight in here.” She husked out with a grin while pushing her body almost flush against yours.
“Mhm.” Your lips pressed tightly as you nodded, trying not to lose your shit.
You hadn’t even had a chance to get it back together yet.
Lara’s arms went up as she danced, swaying her body and hips. Her movements put her even closer to you, causing you to back up as much as you could.
She took it as an opportunity to turn around, backing her ass into you with vigor, rubbing it against your crotch like her life depended on it.
It would be flattering—maybe even enjoyable—in any other situation. But not this one. Not when you did not want to have anything to do with any girl.
Your face undoubtedly flushed crimson red from how awkward and embarrassed you felt. It felt like a pair of eyes was burning a hole in your face. But you could not be sure.
It very well could be just the heat Lara was trying to put on you. Attempting to get away did not succeed when you realized people behind you were like a stone wall, blocking your way entirely.
This was horrible—in a sense. From everyone else’s point of you, there was nothing to complain about. A pretty girl grinding on you, throwing herself all over your body. Clearly wanting you.
Who wouldn’t want that?
You.
You wouldn’t want that.
And then it struck you.
The girl with a crush. It had to be her. Your body only stiffened more at the realization. Dancing—or more like standing since you were doing nothing but cosplaying a goddamn marble statue—with her would only send the wrong message.
It had to stop. Right now.
“I’m gonna get a drink.” You said loudly, hoping she would hear through the music as you were about to turn around.
“We can get them later.” She was not about to let you go so easily. Her hand clasped with yours, pulling you back to her.
So strongly that your body collided with hers. A mischievous smirk curled up on her face as she sneaked her hands up your body.
“What’s the rush?” Her innocent words did not match her not-so-innocent actions.
This was dangerous—in the most horrible way.
“Uh—” You stuttered, losing thoughts and words at the proximity you were put in.
Her nose almost brushing against yours. Her lips getting closer when she tilted her chin up. Her hooded eyes trying to screw you right in this spot.
And that was when you felt it. Her sneaky fingers reaching your belt, playing with its buckle.
“I-I gotta go.” Quickly freeing yourself from her grasp, you did not waste time pushing through the crowd.
No doubt a person or two got elbowed on the way. But you could not care. You had to break free from Lara’s grip.
Just to fall right in Daniela’s furious face. Her mouth was almost seething, madness running in her eyes like a wild animal as she stood with crossed arms.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Her sharp tone caused you to falter back as you frowned.
What you were doing? Trying to freaking survive.
“I’m just—dancing.” You uttered out.
For some reason, your confidence came back while she stood in front of you. Growing a bit taller, you cleared your throat, staring her down as she was doing with you.
“Dancing?” Her lips opened in a smile. But not a good smile. She jutted out her hip, one eyebrow raising at you in challenge as her tongue ran over her teeth. “If you danced like that with everyone, we would have a newborn epidemic.”
Your jaw almost dropped to the floor before you could quickly compose yourself. So, now, it was your fault? You did not even want to go with Lara in the first place.
Your expression switched into frustration almost in a second as you glared at your ex.
“And why do you care? It’s a party, I can do what I want!” Your voice raised, the tone changing to a firm one.
“I care when you try to screw my friends!” She bit back, flinging her arms in the air before pointing at you harshly.
“Oh, really?” You breathed out in a laugh. If she only knew the truth. “You’re so pressed about something you know nothing of.”
Her teeth clenched before grinding tightly.
“Screw you!” She seethed out to you, leaning forward as if the words would hit better like that.
“Not your friends anymore?” Your eyebrow raised as her jaw dropped all the way to the floor. Maybe you were an asshole for that. Or maybe it was payback.
Without another word, you started walking away from the girl as she kept sending you death stares, all the way until you disappeared around the corner.
Well, maybe that was good enough for Sophia’s ‘demon facing’.
It definitely was enough for you.
“Where the hell have you been?!” You hissed out to Sophia even before reaching her.
The girl’s head whipped to you, confusion swirling in her eyes as her brows scrunched at you. There was something in her eyes. Something weird and unreadable.
Unfamiliar.
“At the party?” She said cockily, quickly composing herself, and chuckling at you.
Something was off with her right now. She was acting strange. But you did not have time for it. If there was a problem, she would tell you. She always did.
“Is it Lara?”
Her head immediately tilted with an incredulous expression.
“Huh?”
“The girl with a crush, it’s Lara, yes?” Your clarification did not seem to help much as she just kept staring at you with an open mouth. “She just pulled me to the middle of the room, then started grinding on me like hell.”
Sophia’s eyes widened as a glint flashed in her brown irises. Quickly shaking her head, it was gone before you could figure out what it could be.
“Well, how did that go?” She asked, a bit of anxiety showing in her movements.
This was not normal.
Your eyebrows furrowed at her.
“Like shit, I wanted the ground to swallow me. I ran away and then argued with Daniela.” Her face faltered, a bit of disappointment and annoyance making their way in. “And what is with you? Why are you acting so weird?”
“I’m not!” She quickly denied, standing straighter. “Listen, I gotta go—pee.” She stuttered out at the end as if she just came up with it. “You just—chill, okay? It’s a goddamn party.” Her arms flew in the air as she sent you a stern look.
Like a mother who was scolding you. But in this situation, it was for not being wild enough.
And just like that, she brushed past you as her lips locked tightly together, leaving you alone once again.
But not before you turned around, catching how Manon went in the same direction a few seconds later.
What the hell were they doing?
The things calmed down a bit. You found a calmer room where a few people were sitting on the couch and talking. You knew them in passing and really did not want to go back to the wildness of the main room, so you sat on the free armchair.
You talked with people for a bit, finally feeling at peace. No anxiety. No stress. Only rest.
“Here you are, cutie.” There was no more rest left for you when Lara’s voice reached your ears, making you choke on soda. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”
Your eyes were wide, fear hiding behind them as you tried to stay composed. But it all went out of the window when she invited herself to sit on your lap.
Her arms draped over your shoulders, her body pushing against your front as she hugged herself closer.
“I—uh—” You tried to move up the armchair, your body going stiff like a stone, but the girl would not move an inch.
“It’s okay, I get it.” She did? You did not think so. She would not be using you as a chair if she did. “You’re shy.”
Oh, that was not the problem.
The actual problem just entered the room, causing your eyes to almost fall out of their sockets as you felt mortified.
You felt like in danger.
Probably because you were in danger.
It was written all over Daniela’s face. Her eyes burned like fire when they stopped on you.
On Lara. Sitting on your lap. In the most claiming way ever.
You could see steam coming out of the Latina’s ears at the sight that welcomed her into this peaceful area that quickly turned into a battlefield for you.
“But don’t worry.” Lara continued, clearly oblivious to the threat that started coming her way.
And yours, unfortunately, too.
“I know how to loosen you up.” Your body could convulse when her hand started sliding up from your chest, slowly making its way down your stomach.
But you just stayed frozen. Frozen because you did not want her to think there was a chance for anything with you.
On the other hand, however, Daniela’s furious face sparked something in you. Fear, undoubtedly, when her murder-filled gaze did not falter even for a second as she walked to the two of you.
But there was something else. Satisfaction.
Finally, it was your turn to have the upper hand for the first time in months.
“Excuse me.” Your ex said in the sweetest tone ever, gaining Lara’s attention as the girl looked up. “I need to steal her for a second.” The innocent smile stayed there a while longer before she basically shoved the other girl off your lap.
She quickly, and harshly, grabbed your hand in a vice-like grip. Before you knew it, your legs were running after her, being dragged out of the room and into the hallway.
“What are you—” The question was cut off as you tripped over a glass bottle. She did not falter, she did not stop. “Daniela.”
The call of her name did nothing as she seemed adamant to keep staring and walking ahead.
Eventually, she pushed a door to one of the rooms open. Stepping in first, she pulled on your arm strongly enough to make your body jolt forward.
It felt like kidnapping, to be honest. When you turned around just as she slammed the door shut, you wished you could be getting kidnapped by someone else.
Because the fire in her eyes made you terrified.
“W-what’s going—” Her scoff cut you off as she crossed her arms over her chest.
“Did you come here to ruin my night or what?” Her harsh words cut through the distance between you both.
Ruin her night? Like you had nothing better to do in your life.
“Oh, please, I don’t even want to be here.”
“Good, because you weren’t even invited.” She quickly retaliated.
But your head tilted in puzzlement at the statement.
“You literally invited me earlier today.” Was she drunk or something? How could she not remember it?
“Manon said it would be a good idea.” Huh? “I went along with it only because I didn’t think you’d actually come here.” And there was her bitchy attitude again.
It made your eyes squint as your jaw clenched.
“I’m here only because Sophia forced me, this party is shit anyway.” You were not about to let her think your presence was an outcome of your own free will.
And you would not let her insult you without saying something back.
“Really?” She asked, her little huff switching into a breathy laugh. “Because you seemed to enjoy yourself more than a little bit.”
“Oh, God.” Your groan made her eye twitch as you looked up. “Are we really doing this again? Why do you even care about what I do?” Your hands flew in the air before dropping at your sides.
Your face was tensed while you stared at Daniela.
“I don’t need to see you walking around and trying to suck my friends’ faces!” She raised her voice, getting more agitated by the second.
“I don’t give a fuck about your friends!” You yelled back.
“Oh, right, because that’s how it looked five minutes ago!”
She was getting on your nerves. In how many different ways could you say that there was nothing you tried to do with Lara?
“Jesus, Daniela.” Your hands pressed against the sides of your face. “She came to me!” Her eyes went to the ceiling as a dry laugh passed her lips, her tongue running along her teeth again. “You seem to give a lot of shit for someone who broke up with me in the first place.”
“Oh, now, you’re gonna bring this up?!” Her tone went to a higher pitch as her mad eyes bored into you.
“Is it a lie though?!”
“Well, I had a good reason!” Her declaration made your next words halt. “Clearly, you would rather fuck around with Lara than take anything seriously.”
She did not just say that. You had to hear wrong.
“Are you kidding me?!” There was nothing but anger in your voice. “This is exactly the shit that caused problems in our relationship—”
“Of course.” She cut in, shaking her head with a mad grin.
“You never listen to me, you always only yell whatever you think is the truth and curse at me in Spanish.”
This argument is not the first of its kind. You’d had plenty of those back when you had been together.
She’d always assumed things, always created her own version. And no amount of explanation and ‘alibi’ could have helped. Whatever she had thought, it’d had to be true.
“I don’t listen?”
“Yes!” Your eyes widened as you could not stand this anymore.
“You’re the one who never let me listen!” What in the reverse psychology was this bullshit? “You always just deny and deny, then walk away instead of talking to me like a normal person!”
Of course, you would deny something you didn’t do. Who wouldn’t?
“Because you never do anything besides accusing me and yelling!” This was not going too great, was it? But it also could not be surprising. “I tried to work on things, I wanted us to try, but you preferred a break-up.”
“You think I wanted to break up?!” Her voice went up a note, eyes going wide as she stepped closer.
“Well, judging by what happened, I’d say yes!” It was a miracle that nobody had come in here yet. Your little yelling match could definitely be heard in the hallway.
Daniela’s eyes faltered, her lips pulling in before she clenched her jaw. Hurt flashed on her expression as she stared at you.
“I have been nothing but miserable ever since we split up!”
Was she though? Because it did not look like it. She seemed perfectly fine, almost as if she was happy you two had ended it.
“Sure.” You chuckled dryly. “All those parties scream how sad you are.”
Her eyes squinted at you as her arms crossed once again.
“Oh, sorry I don’t cope with my emotions by drowning in self-pity like you!” Her hand opened, gesturing to you with all of her fingers.
Well, that was a blow. Definitely a blow of some kind. Probably a brutal kind.
Because you were rendered speechless.
“I don’t have to listen to this.” You finally snapped out of your shock as you shook your head. “I don’t even know why I’m still here, hoping like an idiot.” You rambled, stepping towards the door with the intention of leaving this room.
Of leaving this damn house. And this damn party.
“Of course, it’s nothing new you leave when things get heated.” Daniela said, turning her body around to face you as your hand reached for the knob.
But it halted, dropping to your side as your head whipped back to the girl.
“I leave? You literally left me, Daniela!” Your arms flew in the air, frustration and hurt taking over you again. “Then proceeded to be quite of an asshole for months.”
“Like you’ve been better.” She shot back. “You’ve been avoiding me since the start, like I’m some plague or disease.” Her voice cracked, eyes slightly glistening over as pain shot through them for a split second.
“What did you want me to do?” It was a genuine question. You had no idea what she expected from you. “I kept my distance since, clearly, you did not want me around.”
“I wanted you to want me!” She said louder, taking a step closer. Maybe on purpose, maybe from all the emotions and movements. “To fight for me!”
“Really?” You said, not fully believing her. Because why should you? Probably because she would never lie to you like that. But your brain was convincing you it was all just an excuse.
“Yes!” She exclaimed. “I was tired of arguing, I was tired of unfinished conversations. I thought breaking up would finally change something!”
Was it really how she felt? Was it actually the reason? Your heart squeezed at the possibility. This whole time, you were looking at everything only from your perspective.
How she’d seemed emotional, self-centered, dramatic.
It never occurred to you that your responses hadn’t been enough. That they had revolved around you defending yourself instead of giving her more insight into a situation.
Your throat tightened, the guilt creeping into your chest like venom.
“Do you still want me to want you?” You asked her, calming down and lowering your tone.
Everything in you was buzzing. Everything was screaming for her to say this word. This one word that you had wanted to hear ever since you two had ended.
Her brows furrowed at you, her head shaking as she closed her eyes for a split second.
“Why does it matter—”
“Do you still want me to want you, Daniela?!” You repeated louder, firmer.
“Yes!” Her tone matched yours. “I do, I want you to want me!”
Your head lunged forward, one hand going to the back of her neck as your lips smashed against hers.
You felt her body stiffen for a split second—probably in surprise—before she reciprocated, moving her mouth with yours.
It felt relieving. To have her like this again.
To have her lips on yours. To feel their softness and warmth. To feel her hands sneaking around your stomach as she fisted your shirt at the sides.
How her head would move forward, chasing you adamantly to prevent any possible distance from being created.
But her mouth moved away, planting her forehead against yours, and leaving you breathing hot and heavy. Her eyes stayed closed for a while longer before fluttering open.
“Are you drunk?” Her whisper made your heart skip a beat.
It was so soft and gentle. So different from what you had been hearing for the last few months. A smile threatened to spread on your face.
“No.” You denied sincerely. “Did not touch a single drop.”
Her sober eyes were jumping between yours as if she was searching for something. You could not understand what. And when you were about to ask, she dived forward, connecting your lips again as she hungrily moved them against you.
It felt unreal. Like a dream. But you would not be picky. Even if this were a dream, you would take it.
Because nothing felt better than having her again. Maybe only for now. Maybe for a day. You hoped it would be for years.
And when she switched positions and started pushing you towards her bed, you knew where it was going. You knew even better when her fingers slid down to the hem of your shirt and started pulling it up.
“Shouldn’t we—”
“Fuck it all out and talk tomorrow?” She quickly cut you off, pushing you, and causing you to sit down on the mattress as she swiftly took off her shirt. Her blown pupils were staring at you in hunger. Hunger that had to be satisfied right away. “You tell me.” Her seductive voice sent chills down your spine as you could not stop roaming your eyes over her body. “I would love to listen to you.”
There was definitely drool rolling down the corner of your mouth. Five months later and she still had the same hold of you. She probably would have it forever.
“Sounds great.” You barely let out, completely entranced with her.
You faintly caught the mischievous smirk that spread on her mouth before she sauntered to you like a goddess, straddling your lap as her hands went to the back of your neck.
You were gone. You definitely were. And it would only get worse—and better—for you soon.
“This ride is eighteen plus.” She said lowly, her lips brushing yours in a teasing manner. “Make sure to buckle up, baby.”
That night at the party, it had been a hell of a night. Ended great. Felt great. Changed your mind about going there in the first place.
And about going there? You’d found out why Sophia had been so persistent about it.
Manon and your bestfriend had plotted a scheme to get you and Daniela back together. Which involved Lara. Heavily as you could remember. It had all been an act from her side to make Daniela jealous—which had made you feel relieved in the end.
And the girl with a crush? Sophia had meant Daniela. Your eyes had rolled very hard at the revelation.
According to both girls, they’d been hearing enough of how much you two had missed each other and had spent too much money on ice cream for their respective best friends.
You’d wanted to be mad at Sophia for going behind your back like that. But in the end, it had worked.
It’d been a month since that party. You and Daniela had been doing great. More conversations had helped a lot. You had opened up more and had been trying to answer any questions the way you knew—now—would help your girlfriend—yeah, exactly—understand better and calm down her thoughts.
She had been better about listening to you instead of jumping to conclusions as well.
Overall. It’d been amazing.
You were waiting for her to join as you sat outside with Sophia and Manon, talking and laughing—mostly those two—about your unlucky adventures during the Swiss girl’s absence.
“Hey, guys!” Lara’s voice sounded in your ears, causing you to look at her before smiling. “How are we all doing?” She asked in a sing-song voice, coming up to the other two, and kissing their cheeks as a greeting.
“Great, we’re reminiscing.” Manon said, throwing you a teasing smirk that you rolled your eyes at.
“More like bullying.” You grumbled as Lara started coming up to greet you as well.
“Back off, Raj.”
A stern voice came from behind you, halting Lara two steps away from you as wavy hair covered your vision when someone flopped down on your lap, getting comfortable.
“You’re not trusted around her yet.” Daniela said, sneaking her arms around your neck as she pressed herself to your front as close as possible.
Her eyes were completely focused on Lara whose mouth spread in an awkward smile, like a child that was just scolded by their mother.
“Your little stunt was too great for your own good.” Your girlfriend added, chuckling a bit as Lara huffed out a laugh.
“Valid.” The taller girl said, nodding slowly with pursed lips as she took a seat not far from you two. “At least, I know I don't have to worry about my acting career.”
The corner of her mouth curled into a playful smirk, causing Sophia, Manon, and Daniela to laugh as you teasingly rolled your eyes.
“Got them both fooled.” Sophia added, cackling like a mad woman.
She had been making fun of you this entire time. Manon hadn't been better, only playing into your best friend’s shenanigans.
But you did not care. You had Daniela back. Their plan—as stupid as it was—had worked perfectly.
“And in love.” Your eyes snapped up to the Latina who was already staring at you like there was nobody else in the world.
Her whisper and the look on her face made your heart melt.
“You’re so cheesy.” The teasing comment passed your smiling mouth as you gently cupped her cheek before connecting your lips.
Acting tough was for nothing when she had you wrapped around her little finger.
“Ew, leave it for the bedroom!” Sophia’s disgusted voice came through as an empty plastic bottle hit your arm.
David found Yuna still rusting on the couch. He had take out in his hands. A peace offering of sorts, Yuna supposed.
They prepared dinner in silence. Plates were arranged, glasses filled. The silence turned the short width of the table into a great expanse. David wasn't going to break the silence. Yuna didn't want to.
"How was work?" There. That was safe.
David looked down at his food. "Slow."
Yuna nodded thoughtfully. "Hm? lots of time to kill?"
David frowned.
Yuna frowned back. "What?"
David seemed to regret what he was about to say before he even opened his mouth. It still didn't stop him. "I uh read about Ryan Price," he admitted. Not safe. Fuck. "Apparently he was a defenseman who retired early and just disappeared? I don't know. I was just excited that its a thing. He's alive. I found his address in Toronto!"
"David," Yuna tried and failed to keep her voice level. "Hockey players retire and disappear from the public eye, yes. But they don't disappear from their families."
"We don't know anything about Price's family."
Yuna put her glass down with a thunk. "I don’t know how you think any of this is doing anything except hurting me."
David's mouth paused half open. He snapped it closed. "I just don’t understand how you don’t want to have any hope." The calmness in his voice was manufactured.
Yuna's lungs rid themselves of air, "Hope?"
"Yes, hope!"
"You are Pandora’s fucking box, David. You know that?" Yuna rose from the table, taking her half finished plate with her. "You bring me nothing but nightmares and horror and pain, and all for what?" Yuna scrapped the remaining food into the compost. "The tiny minuscule dark curse of hope at the bottom? Like that's not the worst nightmare of them all?" She yanked the faucet to full. "To hope that he’s alive when we know he’s not. Hope only leads to more pain than all of it combined!" Yuna's voice cracked as she raised it high above the running water, "I just want to be supported by the only person left in my life!"
Fire flickered in David's eyes. "That's unfair."
"You are stagnant, David." Yuna scrubbed her plate under the torrid water, uncaring about her reddening skin. "You are refusing to process this. All your hope is doing to you is making it impossible for you to move on. You are trapped without having processed anything. You have to grieve! You’re stuck on a wild goose chase. And I’m alone!"
"You’re not alone." David rose from the table too; his plate stayed. "I’m right here, and I’ll do anything that I can to support you."
Yuna whirled away from the sink. Her hands screamed in relief. "Then stop chasing ghosts!"
"He’s not a ghost," David snapped. "Stop saying he’s a ghost. You’re wrong Goddammit!"
"We missed the signs, David. You have to admit that." Yuna couldn't believe they were having this argument again. "You can’t say they weren’t there just because we didn’t see them in time." Yes, she could.
"I won't accept that he’s gone until I’ve exhausted every trail. I don’t believe what you believe. I can't abandon him."
David did not finish his sentence with the word 'again.' Yuna heard it anyway.
"I'm going to bed." Yuna wiped her hands on her sweats and walked towards the bedroom. "Thank you for bringing home dinner."
-
David was already in bed when Yuna left the bathroom after brushing her teeth. He must have washed up in the kitchen skin.
Yuna met his eyes as she crawled into bed next to him. The tension from the evenings' argument crackled in the air. "Don't look up the trail again."
David's shoulders tensed. He didn't have to speak for Yuna to know he disagreed. "They never found a body in those woods."
Anguish tore through Yuna's chest, and her vision blurred. The blanket trembled against her iron grip. "That forest covers miles upon fucking miles. You expect them to?"
"Its my last clue–"
"Go to bed, David." Yuna's voice was the loud crack of ice when the lake was frozen too thin to stand on. "I cannot do this again."
"I keep hurting you. I am sorry." David's weight left the mattress, and cold flooded the space beside Yuna. "I should sleep on the couch."
The couch. When they'd needed to sleep separately before one of them would just slip into Shane's spare room. Neither of them went in there anymore, they just couldn't stomach it.
Yuna didn’t reply. She tried, but all that came out was a high-pitched sob.
The empty half of the bed drew on Yuna's grief in like a black hole. Yuna was alone. She was alone, and she was cold; everything was so cold.
"Baby?" David whispered, more of a plea than a prompt.
Yuna squeezed her eyes together and stretched her arm out into the darkness towards her husband.
His hand met hers and Yuna pulled David back under the covers.
Plot: A fight with Jason gets heated—sharp words, stubborn tempers, neither of you backing down. But when the tension snaps, it turns into something else entirely. Something raw, desperate, and messy.
Words: 10k
The apartment door slams behind you both, the sharp sound echoing in the quiet space. Your heels clack against the hardwood as you stalk toward the bedroom, too pissed to even look at him right now. Jason follows, his heavy boots thudding after you, that cocky swagger in every step even though you're very clearly fuming.
"Are you really gonna be mad all night?" he asks, tone half lazy, half exasperated.
You whip around so fast your hair flies over your shoulder, finger already pointed at his chest. "Yes! Jason, I swear to God, you're fucking impossible!"
His brows shoot up, that infuriating smirk tugging at his mouth. "What'd I do now, doll?"
"What'd you do? Are you serious?"
You step closer, eyes flashing, and jab a finger into his chest. "You almost started a fight at the restaurant! Over nothing! Just—someone bumped into me, and suddenly you're ready to crack skulls like you're still some street kid with nothing to lose, except you have everything to lose, Jason! I have everything to lose!"
That softens his smirk, just a little. But it doesn't disappear, not entirely. "Baby, I had it under control."
"No, you didn't!"
Your voice breaks on the words, frustration and fear tangled up too tight in your chest. "You never have it under control when you get like that. You stop thinking. It's like you don't even care what happens to you."
He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. "You're bein' dramatic."
That knocks some of the wind out of his cocky sails, but true to form, Jason Todd never backs down that easily. "I can handle myself, baby. I've been in worse fights before you even knew me."
"Oh, fuck you."
You turn away, arms crossed tight, nails digging into your own skin like you can hold yourself together if you just squeeze hard enough. "I'm not being dramatic, Jay. I'm scared. Every time you act like your life doesn't matter, it scares the shit out of me because your life does matter. To me."
"And maybe that's the problem!" you spin around again, hands flung wide. "You're so used to throwing yourself into danger like you've got a death wish, you don't even think about the people who love you, who have to watch you do it. Who have to fucking wait and hope you come home in one piece."
His jaw clenches, that sharp edge of defensiveness flashing in his eyes. "I came home tonight, didn't I?"
"Barely! If Dick hadn't dragged you out of there—"
"—I would've walked out just fine on my own," he cuts in, voice hard, this close to losing his temper too.
You both stand there, breathing hard, anger seeping through every pore. Your heart is hammering against your ribs, anger and fear and love all tangled into a knot you can't untie. And goddamn him, even now, with his blood still running hot from almost throwing down, with that cocky little glint still in his eye... he looks good. Messy hair, jaw clenched tight, that black shirt stretched over his broad chest, his hands flexing like he still has adrenaline to burn.
You want to shake him. You want to kiss him. You want to scream until your throat hurts.
Jason exhales, slow and heavy, like he's trying to ease some of that heat out of his chest before you both say something you can't take back.
"Baby," he says quieter, "I'm fine."
Your throat closes up. "For now."
He takes a step closer, hands sliding to your waist, fingers curling into your dress. "I'm not goin' anywhere, pretty girl."
You shake your head, eyes stinging. "You can't promise that."
Jason sighs as he leans down, forehead tipping against yours. "What do you want me to say, huh? That I'll never lose my temper again? That I'll play nice and walk away every time some asshole gets in my face? That's not who I am."
"I know," you whisper. "But it's who I wish you could be. Just for me."
That hits somewhere deep, somewhere tender he doesn't let many people see. But instead of softening, Jason leans into the heat instead because that's how he knows to handle fear, with fire.
"C'mere," he mutters, dragging you into him, arms wrapping tight around your waist. "You wanna fight with me? Do it right here, baby. Get it out of your system."
You shove at his chest, and he catches your wrist, twisting you into him like a dance, his breath warm against your ear.
"Or," he says, voice all heat, "you can find a better way to work out all that attitude."
"Fuck off," you snap, but it's weaker, your anger turning into something messier, hotter.
Your breath catches, nails curling into his chest again, not pushing this time, just holding on.
He chuckles, lips brushing the shell of your ear. "C'mon, pretty girl. You're pissed, I'm pissed, and you're standin' here looking like that."
His hands slide down, grabbing your ass hard through your dress. "We both know exactly how this night's gonna end."
"Still mad at me, baby?"
"Yeah."
"Good," he grins against your mouth, teeth nipping at your bottom lip. "Lemme make it up to you."
Your hands land flat on his chest, shoving him back, catching him off guard enough that he stumbles two steps out of the bedroom. And before he can say a damn word, you slam the door right in his stupid, handsome, reckless face. Not locked, just shut, because locking it feels too final, too mean, and you're pissed, but not that pissed.
Jason stares at the door for half a second, then his forehead drops against it with a low thud and he knocks his head against it once, twice, just hard enough to feel it.
"Fuck."
He didn't mean to ruin the night. He never means to ruin shit when it comes to you. But the moment that asshole's hand brushed against your ass—innocent or not—it flipped a fucking switch in him. And maybe that's fucked up, maybe he's got a million unresolved issues tied to losing everyone he's ever given a shit about, but you?
You're his. His girl, his future, his everything, and seeing someone else's hand anywhere near you sends him spiraling into that ugly, possessive part of himself that only you've ever managed to soften.
And yeah, maybe the guy didn't mean it, maybe it was just a crowded restaurant and accidents happen, but Jason's not the kind of man who plays it cool. Not when it comes to you. Not when he loves you so much it hurts sometimes, sitting right there under his ribs like a bruise he can't stop poking.
He presses his palms to the door, wishing he could just rewind the whole night—go back to you looking so pretty at the restaurant, all smiles and soft touches, letting him steal kisses between courses. You'd been happy. And then he fucked it up. Again.
Inside the bedroom, you sit on the edge of the bed, fingers curled into the sheets, trying to hold back the sting in your eyes. You won't cry—you won't—but your throat's tight, and your chest aches, and the night feels like it's unraveling right between your fingers.
Tonight was supposed to be fun. It's Tim's fucking birthday, for God's sake. The restaurant had been beautiful, the food actually good for once, the atmosphere soft and warm with all your friends laughing and talking and teasing each other.
And then some random guy brushed past you on his way to the bathroom, bumping your hip, and Jason went feral. You love that he's protective—God, you do—but Gotham is full of crazy assholes, and you don't want him starting a fight with someone who might pull out a gun and blow his brains out over a misunderstanding.
The thought makes your stomach churn, fear sliding ice cold down your spine, and you have to shake it off before it eats you alive. You stand, fingers reaching behind you to unzip your dress, and it slides off your body, pooling at your feet. And that's when you catch your reflection in the mirror and yeah, no wonder he couldn't keep his hands off you all night.
The lingerie underneath? It's not the kind you wear every day. This is the good shit—black lace and thin straps, sheer panels teasing the curves of your tits, a matching thong barely covering anything, thin enough to show just how wet you already are.
Because for all the shit he's pulling tonight, Jason's still your hot ass, broad shouldered, cocky as hell boyfriend, and your pussy? She does not hold grudges.
You're still mad. You still wanna shake him until his teeth rattle. But you also want him to fuck you so hard you forget why you were even mad to begin with.
You sigh, tug open the bedroom door, and march straight into the living room, chin high, steps confident even though your knees are still a little weak from all that adrenaline. And, yeah, maybe from how fucking good he made you cum this morning.
Jason's slouched on the couch, head tipped back, hands dragging down his face, and when he hears your footsteps, he looks up and freezes.
His eyes rake over you, tongue darting out to wet his lips like his mouth's gone dry. "Jesus Christ."
You cross your arms under your tits, pushing them up just a little higher. "What? Cat got your tongue, big guy?"
His gaze flicks from your face to your tits to the sheer lace stretched over your hips, and the way the thin strip of fabric between your legs is already dark with how wet you are.
"You're tryin' to fuckin' kill me," he mutters, half to himself, half to you.
You cock a hip, all attitude, even though your pulse is hammering. "Thought you liked a challenge."
Jason pushes up from the couch, moving slow, shoulders broad and tense, every line of him saying he's holding himself back—barely. "You're still mad at me."
"Furious," you agree.
"And you're standin' there looking like that."
You glance down at yourself, trailing a finger over the top of your bra, down the center of your stomach. "Yeah. What are you gonna do about it?"
He's on you in two steps, one hand cupping the back of your neck, the other grabbing a handful of your ass, yanking you flush against him. "Gonna fuck the attitude right outta you, baby."
"Promises, promises."
He kisses you hard enough to steal your breath, hands already roaming, already tugging at the straps of your bra, already ready to tear you apart and put you back together again, but you're faster. You grab two handfuls of his shirt, spinning him around and shoving him back onto the couch. He goes down without a fight, grinning like the cocky bastard he is, because you both know you can't actually budge him unless he lets you.
But fuck, does it turn him on when you try.
Jason sprawls into the cushions, legs spread, hands braced on his thighs like he's daring you to climb on top of him, but instead, you drop to your knees between his legs. His whole body tenses, chest rising slower, breath catching because you—all pissed off, all attitude, all tits spilling out of that black lace bra—are kneeling right there, looking up at him like you're about to ruin his fucking life.
And for once, Jason Todd has nothing to say.
You reach for his belt slowly, dragging the leather free of the loops with a sharp tug, and you swear you see his fingers twitch. He's already getting hard, already pressing against the front of his jeans, already so fucking easy for you.
The buckle clinks as you undo it, popping the button next, tugging the zipper down with a sound that seems louder than it should be. And then you pull his jeans and boxers down just far enough to free his dick, and fuck.
He's so fucking big, already hard and flushed, veins standing out along his length, and a bead of precum clings to the slit, catching the low light. Your pussy throbs on sight alone, clenching around nothing, still sore from the last time he was inside you.
Jason's hand lifts, fingers reaching for the back of your head—because of course he wants to grab your hair, guide your mouth, fuck your throat—but you slap his hand away, sharp and quick.
"No touching."
He freezes like you've just short-circuited every thought in his head. "What?"
Jason's jaw clenches, shoulders tight, every muscle in his thighs twitching, but he obeys. Barely. His hands grip the edge of the couch so tight his knuckles go white.
"No. Touching."
You wrap your fingers around the base of his cock, giving him one slow, punishing stroke, twisting your wrist just the way he likes. "You wanna act reckless? You wanna scare the shit outta me? You wanna start fights over shit that doesn't matter? Then you can sit there with your hands to yourself while I handle this."
You lean in, licking up the underside of his cock in one slow, wet drag, ending with a kiss to the tip that leaves your lips shiny with precum. "You're such a fucking idiot, you know that?"
"Yeah, baby," he rasps, voice already rougher. "I know."
You pump him slow, fingers squeezing just right, thumb swiping through the slick at his tip before you slide down again.
"What if you got yourself shot tonight, huh? What the fuck am I supposed to do if you get yourself killed because you can't stand someone breathing in my direction?"
His head tips back, throat flexing, cock leaking even more into your palm.
"Baby—"
"Who's gonna love me the way you do? Who's gonna fuck me if you're dead, Jason?"
You squeeze his dick just to see his hips jerk. "Who else knows how to ruin me like you do?"
His abs tighten, hands still gripping the couch, and his cock twitches in your grip, a fresh bead of precum sliding down the side. "You love that I'm possessive."
"No. Don't talk."
You flick your tongue against the tip, barely a taste, before you sit back on your heels, jerking him slow and mean. "You don't get to talk, you reckless, possessive, stupid fucking man."
You glare up at him, lips curling. "I do. But not when it puts you in danger, asshole." You kiss the tip again, softer this time. "Not when it makes me scared I'm gonna lose you."
Jason's breath stutters, and you see it. That crack in his tough guy armor, the one only you ever get to see. But you don't let him soften.
Not yet. Instead, you drag your tongue along the underside of his cock again, pumping him faster, twisting your wrist just right, watching his thighs tense and his hips fight not to thrust up into your mouth.
"Keep your hands there," you murmur, voice all sweet and mean at once. "And maybe I'll let you cum down my throat."
"Jesus fuckin' Christ."
His head falls back, a bead of sweat sliding down his neck, and you know you've got him right where you want him.
Jason yanks his shirt over his head, tossing it aside, not even bothering with unbuttoning it because if you're gonna make him suffer, the least he can do is give you something to look at. And fuck, do you look.
Your hands rest on his thick thighs for a second, gaze dragging over every inked inch of him—the dark ink across his chest, the jagged lines along his ribs, the script down his arms that you've traced with your tongue a hundred times before. He's so fucking hot, all muscle and attitude, sprawled out, dick rock hard in your grip, glistening with spit and precum.
"Enjoyin' the view?"
His voice is pure gravel, but there's a waver in it, like he's already hanging by a thread.
"Shut the fuck up."
You lean in, dragging your tongue along the underside of his cock again, tracing that thick vein with the tip of your tongue until you reach the head, circling it slowly before you take him into your mouth, lips stretching, jaw aching already, but you don't stop. You never stop.
He's too fucking big, he always is, but you try anyway, sinking lower, feeling the weight of him press against your tongue, the blunt head nudging the back of your throat.
"Greedy little thing," Jason mutters, hands twitching, and you see it. The instinct, the need to grab your hair and fuck your throat until you're crying.
But you slap his thigh sharply. "I said no touching."
"Baby—"
"No."
You sink back down, hollowing your cheeks, sucking him deep until your throat spasms around the fat tip, gagging. Tears prick your eyes, spit pooling at the corners of your mouth, but you fucking love it. Love the way his thighs tense, love the way his dick jumps on your tongue, love how fucking desperate he looks.
His chest heaves, fingers curling into fists at his sides. "You're evil."
You hum around him, the vibration making him swear under his breath, and you pull off with a filthy pop, a string of spit connecting your mouth to his cock before you drag your tongue up the side again.
"Yeah? And what's that make you for loving it?"
"Completely fucked."
You grin and take him back into your mouth, bobbing your head faster, sucking him down until you gag again, drool dripping down your chin, slicking his cock even more. Your thighs press together, your pussy throbbing, panties soaked through. You can feel the sticky mess between your legs, the ache in your cunt, the way your body needs him, no matter how mad you are.
Jason groans, deep and low, and you glance up at him through wet lashes, seeing the flush on his chest, the tension in his jaw, the muscles jumping in his stomach. He's so fucking close already, you can tell, and every time he tries to lift a hand, you slap it back down, keeping him helpless beneath you, all that strength and power completely useless unless you let him use it.
"Baby, please." His voice cracks, and it's the hottest fucking thing you've ever heard.
You pull off one more time, stroking him fast and messy, your spit slick hand gliding easily along his length. "Please what?"
"Please lemme touch you."
You shake your head, licking up the underside again, tongue teasing his slit before you suck the head back into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks until his hips buck, just once, just enough to choke you again. You swallow hard, tears sliding down your cheeks, and his dick throbs so hard you can feel it on your tongue.
"Be good," you murmur around him, voice muffled and obscene, "and I'll let you cum."
Jason's head falls back, a broken groan ripping from his throat, and you know you've got him. You sink back down, taking him as deep as you can, lips stretched tight around the fat width of his cock, spit and precum slicking your chin as you work him with all the devotion you can muster. What you can't fit—and there's always part of him you can't fit—you stroke with your hand, fingers gliding over the thick base, your palm sticky with drool and his slick.
Your tongue works the head, lapping up every drop of precum he leaks, tasting that salty, addictive tease of what's coming, and you fucking love it. You flick your tongue against his slit, suck gently on the sensitive tip before you sink down again, sucking hard, cheeks hollowed so tight your jaw aches, but you don't fucking care.
"Jesus fuckin' Christ," Jason groans, his voice wrecked, head tipped back against the couch, muscles tight like he's holding himself together with sheer fucking will. "You're perfect, baby. Mouth so goddamn good—fuck, you always know how to suck me just right."
The praise makes your pussy clench hard, heat flooding your belly, and you double down, bobbing your head faster, working him with both your mouth and hand until your throat burns and your jaw trembles. Every time you pull back, you leave a messy trail of spit and precum glistening along his length, but you dive right back in, tongue swirling around the head before you take him deep again.
"Look at you," Jason breathes, his voice low and rough. "So fuckin' pretty like this. My perfect girl. You love this dick, don't you?"
You hum around him, the vibration making his whole body twitch, and he groans so low it vibrates in your chest. You pull back just enough to gasp, "Love it, Jay. Best fucking dick I've ever had."
"Yeah?" His grin is sharp, dangerous. "Then show me, baby. Show me how much you love it."
Challenge fucking accepted. You take him deep again, swallowing around the head, ignoring the gag reflex that flares up as you press lower, working him into your throat until your nose brushes the skin at the base of his cock. You gag again, spit bubbling past your lips, but you don't stop. You fucking love how heavy he feels on your tongue, how thick and hot and perfect he is, filling your mouth like he was made for it.
Jason's fists clench at his sides, his whole body trembling with restraint. "So good for me, baby," he mutters, voice cracking with it. "So fuckin' good. My pretty, filthy fucking girl. Takin' me so deep—fuck, 'm gonna cum, baby. Gonna fill that perfect mouth."
You moan around him, and that's it. His hips jerk, cock swelling, and then he's cumming, thick ropes of cum spilling across your tongue, hot and salty and so much, it makes you whimper as you swallow, throat working hard to take it all.
He always cums a lot, his balls emptying in pulse after pulse, and you keep sucking, milking him through it, letting every drop slide down your throat until your belly feels warm with it. His cock throbs against your tongue, so sensitive it makes his hips twitch every time your tongue flicks over the head, but you don't stop until you know he's completely spent.
"Fuck, baby," he groans, voice rough and almost shaky. "Gonna kill me one of these days."
You pull back slowly, licking your swollen lips, wiping the mess from your chin with the back of your hand, and grin up at him, all fucked out satisfaction. Jason pulls you right into his lap, and you gasp, hands flying to his shoulders to steady yourself.
His hands slide down to grab your ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh, grinding you down against his cock, still hard and slick with your spit, and you moan when you feel the thick length press up against your soaked lace panties.
"Fuck," Jason mutters, dragging you along his cock again, feeling how drenched you are even through the lace. "That pretty pussy misses me already, huh?"
"Jay," you murmur, voice soft, needy, and when you lean in, he catches your mouth in a kiss—hot, messy, all tongue and teeth, licking into you like he's starving for your taste.
He groans low when he tastes himself on your tongue, dirty and possessive, and you whimper into his mouth, hips moving on their own, grinding down against him, chasing friction.
You break the kiss to breathe, forehead resting against his, and your fingers stroke the hair at the nape of his neck as you whisper, "Do you love me?"
Jason's hands flex on your ass, holding you tighter, and his voice is low, earnest when he says, "You know I do, baby. Love you so fuckin' much."
You lick your lips, eyes dark with want. "Then fuck me like you mean it."
His eyes flash—something feral, something wild, and before you can say anything else, he's moving, standing up with you in his arms like you weigh nothing before he lays you down on the couch, his jeans and boxers kicked off in one rough move. He kneels over you, hands already tugging your bra down until your tits spill out, and he doesn't even bother unclasping it before he's on you.
"Love these tits," he mutters between kisses, licking over one nipple, sucking it into his mouth before letting it go with a wet pop. His tongue flicks over the other, sharp and teasing, before he closes his lips around it, sucking hard until you gasp and arch into him. "So fuckin' pretty, baby. Could spend all day suckin' on these."
You tug at his hair, breathless, moaning when he drags his teeth over your nipple, just the right amount of rough. He leaves a trail of messy hickeys down the curve of your tits, marking you like the possessive asshole he is, and you swear your pussy gets even wetter from it.
He kisses down your stomach, hands already hooking into the waistband of your panties, tugging them down just enough to get access to you. "Love this body," he murmurs, licking over the waistband before kissing your hipbone. "Love this pussy. Love you, baby."
You whimper, spreading your legs instinctively, and he groans at the sight of your panties clinging to your soaked folds, the lace darkened with how wet you are. His fingers trace along the edge of the fabric, barely touching you, just enough to make your thighs twitch in frustration.
Then his tongue flicks out, teasing you through the fabric, just the lightest drag of warmth over your clit, and you jolt, hips twitching up, chasing more.
Jason hums, amused, as he pulls back, blowing cool air against the damp spot where his tongue just was. "So fuckin' wet for me already," he mutters, voice wrecked, his breath hot against your cunt.
His fingers slide down, pressing against the soaked lace, rubbing slow, lazy circles over your clit, just enough to make you ache but not enough to satisfy.
Your hips stutter, desperate for more friction, but he doesn't give it to you. He presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, his scruff scratching at your sensitive skin, and then, another flick of his tongue, this time firmer, tracing over your clit through the thin barrier of lace.
"Jay—" Your fingers tighten in his hair, trying to pull him closer, but he only chuckles, the vibrations making you tremble.
"You love this, don't you?" His voice is thick with hunger, fingers still rubbing slow, teasing circles over your clit. "Love bein' all messy for me, panties soaked, beggin' for my mouth..."
He leans in again, dragging his tongue over you, pressing the fabric against your cunt, making it cling to every swollen, aching inch of you. Then his teeth close around the lace, tugging just enough to make you feel it before letting go.
Your thighs tremble, your body desperate for more, but he just keeps playing with you, running his tongue along the slick fabric, soaking it even more, his fingers pressing right against your entrance, but never giving you what you need.
"Jason—" you whimper, pushing up against his mouth, but he only smirks, pressing another teasing, barely-there kiss over your clit.
"Patience, pretty girl," he murmurs, eyes dark, voice rough.
He finally hooks a finger into the crotch of your panties, pulling them aside to bare you to him, and then his mouth is on you. Hot, wet, tongue sliding through your folds before fucking into you, slow and deep, licking you open like he's savoring every drop.
You moan his name, thighs trying to clamp around his head, but his big hands grab your thighs and hold you open, spreading you wide like he's got all the time in the world to devour you.
"Keep 'em open, baby," he growls, voice muffled between your thighs. "Wanna see this pussy when I eat you."
He fucks you with his tongue, nose brushing against your clit, and every time you try to roll your hips or squirm away from the intensity, he holds you down and just keeps going, messy and obscene, spit and slick dripping down to the couch beneath you.
Jason groans into your pussy, the sound vibrating against your clit, and he sucks. Soft at first, just enough to make you gasp, before he latches on and really sucks, lips wrapped around that sensitive bundle of nerves, tongue flicking against it, over and over, relentless.
"F-Fuck—Jay—" Your voice is all breathy, wrecked, your fingers pulling at his hair, but it only spurs him on.
He hums again, mouth still latched to your clit, and then drags his tongue down, lapping at your folds, hot and messy and so deep you feel it in your gut. He groans like he's starving for you, like he could live off this alone, tongue pushing inside again, fucking you slow and deep before dragging up to swirl around your clit.
And then he does it again. And again. And again.
His hands squeeze at your thighs, holding you open, keeping you spread, his thumbs rubbing slow circles into your trembling skin, soothing even as his mouth drives you insane.
"You taste so fuckin' good, pretty girl," he rasps against your soaked cunt, his lips slick, his chin glistening with your arousal. "Could eat you for hours."
He presses a soft kiss right against your clit before flattening his tongue, licking a long, slow stripe up your pussy, gathering every drop of slick before pushing his tongue back inside you.
You keen, legs twitching, and he groans into you, hands tightening, like he can feel you dripping for him.
"Goddamn, look at you," he mutters, breath hot against your cunt as he pulls back just enough to admire the mess he's making of you. "Drippin' down my fuckin' chin, baby—"
The wet, obscene sounds of his mouth on you echo in the room, filthy and desperate, and all you can do is whimper and take it.
When he pulls back just enough to suck your clit into his mouth again your whole body jolts, and he hums in satisfaction, eyes locked on you as your mouth falls open on a gasp.
"C'mon, baby," he murmurs against you, every word vibrating against your skin. "Cum for me. Wanna taste you."
It hits you hard, your back arching, thighs trembling in his grip as you cry out, body clenching tight before it melts into pleasure. You swear you see stars, the intensity making your head spin, and he groans low in his throat as he licks you through it, sucking every drop you give him, cleaning you up with his tongue like a man fucking starving.
He doesn't stop until you're trembling, oversensitive and gasping for breath, your hands tugging weakly at his hair, begging for a break. When he finally pulls back, his mouth and chin are glistening, and he wipes his face with the back of his hand, grinning down at you like the devil himself.
"Goddamn, baby," he mutters. "Tastes even better when you're mad at me."
Jason flips you onto your stomach like you weigh nothing, handling you exactly the way you love—rough enough to remind you how much stronger he is, gentle enough to show he'll never actually hurt you. And you already know what he wants, so you arch your back, pushing up onto your hands and knees, glancing over your shoulder with a bratty little smirk that makes his jaw clench.
His hands slide down your sides, slow, deliberate, before they settle on your hips, fingers digging in just to hear you gasp. Then he grabs the lace of your panties, tugging them down over your ass, baring your soaked cunt and the mess he already made between your thighs.
"Fuck," he mutters, palming your ass, squeezing and spreading you open to get a better look. "Always so fuckin' pretty back here."
The first slap lands sharp, making you jolt forward, your slick thighs trembling. The sting blooms hot across your skin, and you whimper, but it only makes you arch deeper, pushing your hips back toward him.
Jason watches, transfixed, as your pussy clenches around nothing, dripping slick onto his cock when he presses the thick head between your legs. He's still hard, precum leaking from the swollen tip, and you rock your hips, rubbing your soaked folds against him until he curses under his breath.
"Needy little thing," he grits out, guiding his cock to your entrance. "Can't even pretend you're not desperate for me."
He starts pushing in, splitting you open slow, and the stretch knocks the air from your lungs, leaving you trembling under him. "Oh, fuck—"
"Always so fuckin' tight for me," Jason groans, one hand stroking down your stomach, feeling the way your body stretches to take him. His fingers slip lower, over your clit, slick and swollen, and you shiver all over when he rubs slow circles over it. "Goddamn, baby."
You rock back, taking him deeper, moaning as your pussy clenches down hard around him. He curses, leaning over you, chest pressed to your back, and murmurs low in your ear, "You want me to fuck you like I mean it, huh?"
You nod frantically, words catching in your throat, and Jason groans, pulling back just enough to grab your hips, steadying you before sliding in deeper, bottoming out with one slow, brutal thrust.
He gives you a second, like he always does, letting you adjust because he knows he's big, knows he's a lot, and he loves you too much to hurt you.
But you're impatient, your body burning with need, so you glance back over your shoulder, panting, "Thought you said you loved me."
His jaw tightens, a flush spreading down his chest, and he growls, "I do."
"Then fucking prove it," you challenge, and that's it, the last frayed thread of his self control snaps.
Jason's hips slam into yours, driving his cock so deep you see stars, and you cry out, fingers scrambling for purchase against the cushions. His hands grip your waist, holding you still so all you can do is take it, body jerking with each brutal thrust, wet sounds filling the room every time his cock splits you open.
Your cunt grips him like a vice, soaked and clenching around him, dragging him back in every time he pulls out, and the slick slide is so obscene, so messy, it only makes him fuck you harder. His hips snap against your ass, the slap of skin on skin echoing, and you bury your face in your arms, moaning his name like a prayer.
"Still wanna fucking die, you idiot?" you gasp between moans, glaring at him over your shoulder, and Jason groans, dropping one hand to slap your ass again.
"Shut up," he pants, driving in deep enough to knock the air out of you. "God, baby—you're so fuckin' wet for me."
"Because you're—you're so fucking stupid," you sob, half scolding, half moaning. "What if—what if you get yourself killed, and who the fuck's gonna fuck me like this?"
"Jesus Christ," Jason groans, the filthy confession sending a sharp pulse of heat straight to his cock, making it throb inside you. "No one, baby, no one else is ever gonna touch this pussy."
He fucks you harder, deeper, grinding into you until you're shaking under him, toes curling, nails clawing at the couch. Every thrust punches little gasps from your throat, and you can't stop talking, can't stop scolding him even as he's fucking you stupid.
"You love me?" you pant, voice high and breathless.
"Love you so much, baby," he groans, leaning over you, lips against your ear. "Love you, love this body, love this perfect fuckin' pussy. All mine, baby. All fuckin' mine."
"Show me," you whisper, voice shaking. "Show me how much."
Jason's hips snap forward, hard enough to drive you into the couch, and you moan his name, cunt squeezing tight around him. "I'll show you, doll," he pants, sweat dripping down his back. "I'll show you exactly how much."
His hands are everywhere—gripping your hips, spreading your ass, fingers digging into your skin hard enough to leave marks tomorrow, and you'll love every fucking one of them. Each thrust is brutal, his cock sliding in and out of your soaked pussy, so slick with arousal and his precum that it drips down your thighs, making a mess.
"Look at this greedy fuckin' pussy," he groans, thumbs spreading you open wider just so he can watch. "Suckin' me in like you missed this dick."
"I did," you gasp, fingers clutching at the couch cushions. "But you're still a fucking idiot."
Jason grits his teeth, hips snapping forward hard enough to shove you up the couch, your knees scraping against the fabric. Your slick little cunt grips him tight, soft and warm and soaked inside, milking his cock every time he drags back just to slam back in. Precum leaks from the swollen tip, mixing with your slick, and every thrust pushes it deeper, making you feel so full you can barely breathe.
The couch creaks under both of you, the whole thing rocking with the force of his thrusts, and Jason can't tear his eyes away from the way your ass bounces every time his hips smack into you. Your skin glows, sweat slick and gorgeous, and he can see the way his dick stretches you open, disappearing into your perfect pussy over and over again.
"Fuck, baby," he groans, almost to himself. "You're perfect. This pussy's fuckin' perfect."
"Damn right it is," you pant, pushing back against him until you're stuffed full all over again. "And if you get yourself killed, who the fuck is supposed to fuck me like this?"
That ticks him off just right this time. His hand shoots out, grabbing the back of your neck, not to hurt, but to hold, to control, and he hauls you upright, your back pressed flush to his broad chest. You gasp, legs shaking, the stretch of his cock inside you deeper, hitting that sweet spot that makes you cry out.
"Who said I was goin' anywhere?" he growls against your ear, hand sliding up from your neck to wrap gently around your throat. "You think I'd leave you, baby? Fuck no."
His other hand finds your tits, fingers tugging at the bra you still hadn't taken off, yanking the cups down completely so your soft skin spills into his hand. He palms your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers, and you moan loud, head tipping back onto his shoulder.
"You love me?" you whisper, breath hitching with every thrust.
"You know I do," he pants, fucking up into you, hips rolling slow but deep, stuffing you so full you swear you can feel him in your throat.
"Then fucking show me," you challenge, rocking your hips down to meet him.
Jason groans, fingers tightening on your throat just a little, enough to make your cunt flutter around him. "I am," he mutters, mouth hot on your neck. "Fuckin' you so good no one else could ever touch you—no one else could make you this wet, this fuckin' messy."
He shoves you back down, face to the cushions, ass in the air, spreading you wide so he can see everything. Especially the way your slick pussy stretches around him, sucking him back in every time he pulls out, shiny with your wetness and his precum.
"Fuckin' shit, baby," he groans, watching his cock slide in and out of your perfect little pussy. "You're fuckin' drippin'."
"Because you're that good, asshole," you snap back, voice muffled by the cushions.
Jason slaps your ass hard enough to make you jolt, cunt squeezing down on him so tight his vision blurs for a second. "Yeah? Then why the fuck you talkin' so much?"
"Because you're a fucking idiot," you sob, back arching when he drives in deep. "You don't—you don't need to start shit every time someone looks at me, Jay. You're the only one who gets to fuck me like this, don't you know that?"
Jason groans, hands tightening on your hips as he slams into you harder, hips snapping, driving you into the couch so deep your knees nearly buckle.
"I know, doll," he pants, voice wrecked. "I know, fuck—I just love you so much, I can't stand anyone else even lookin' at you."
"Then—then fuck me harder," you gasp, tears in your eyes from how good he feels, how perfectly his thick cock fills you up, dragging against every sweet spot inside you. "Fuck me so good I can't even think about anyone else."
Jason yanks you up again, your back flush to his sweat slick chest, his cock buried so deep you swear you feel him in your fucking lungs. His big hand cups your jaw, turning your face toward him, and he kisses you messy, tongue sliding between your parted lips like he's starving for the taste of you. It's sloppy, wet, both of you panting into each other's mouths, sucking on tongues, biting at lips.
You moan into his mouth when his free hand finds your clit, two fingers rubbing sharp, relentless circles over the sensitive little bud. It's too much, too fast, your cunt already stretched wide and soaked around him, every rub of his fingers making you clench down tighter.
"Fuck, baby," he groans, breath hot against your cheek, hips snapping up into you so hard you bounce. "You're so fuckin' wet—you're drippin' all over my dick."
His fingers don't slow down, and you can't do anything but take it, legs shaking, cunt squeezing around him, your swollen clit throbbing under his ruthless touch. The heat coils low in your belly, sharp and fast, climbing so high so fast it almost scares you.
"Jay—fuck—wait, I—"
Your hand flies down, grabbing at his wrist, trying to ease him off your overstimulated clit, but he's not budging, the muscle in his forearm flexing as he presses down harder.
"No," he growls into your ear, voice wrecked. "You wanted me to fuck you like I mean it? This is what that fuckin' means, baby."
His dick pounds into you mercilessly, every thrust dragging against your sweetest spot, thick and hot and leaking inside you, smearing precum along your fluttering walls. You're soaking him, so slick you can hear the obscene squelch every time he sinks in to the hilt as he rubs your puffy little clit.
Your whole body locks up, spine arching, mouth falling open as you cum so hard it knocks the breath out of you, that sharp edge of pleasure tipping you into freefall. Your pussy clamps down on his cock, tight and trembling, and Jason fucking moans, jaw clenched, hips stuttering as you soak his dick with wave after wave of hot, slick arousal.
But he doesn't stop.
"Gimme more," he pants, fingers ruthless on your clit. "C'mon, baby, you can do it, show me how messy you can get."
"Jason, I—fuck—fuck—"
Your thighs quake, eyes rolling back, and when he starts to slap over your clit lightly, it hits like a live wire—your whole body seizes, cunt pulsing around him, and then it happens.
You fucking squirt, hot and sudden, a slick rush spilling from your cunt, drenching both of you in a messy gush that soaks the couch, his thighs, your thighs—every inch of skin that's pressed together—leaving your pussy glistening, clenching around his dick as your juices drip down to the cushions. It's a mess you didn't even know you could make, and Jason loses it.
You both knew you could squirt when you were drunk off your ass, but this? This was all him. And you're both wrecked with it—you, boneless and trembling, him, harder than fucking steel inside you, completely gone for you.
"Holy fuck, baby," he groans, voice somewhere between awe and pure hunger.
Your whole body shakes, tears spilling down your cheeks from the sheer intensity, overstimulated to the point of pain tinged pleasure, and Jason kisses you through it, swallowing your sobs and moans right from your tongue.
It's still so messy—hot, wet, open mouthed, tongues licking into each other's mouths, tasting sweat and spit and you, and he groans deep in his chest like you're the best thing he's ever had.
His cock keeps sliding into your soaked, fluttering cunt, so slick it's almost effortless, but you're still so tight, sucking him in greedily. His fingers finally ease off your clit, stroking instead of circling, soothing instead of torturing, but his kiss stays just as hungry. Desperate like he's trying to memorize your taste, the way you moan into his mouth when you can barely even catch your breath.
"Baby," he murmurs between kisses, breathless and tender and filthy all at once. "You're so fuckin' good for me. Love this pussy—love you."
Jason's lips break from yours, sliding down your jaw, over the curve of your throat, hot breath ghosting over your pulse before his mouth seals against your neck. He sucks hard, tongue flicking over the skin, leaving a bruising, sloppy mark.
And the whole time, his hips keep working, dragging his thick cock in and out of your soaked, swollen cunt, slow but deep, hitting every spot that makes your toes curl.
"Fuck, Jay—" you whimper, head tilting to give him more of your neck, hands clutching at his wrists, his arms, anywhere you can reach to steady yourself.
He hums low in his throat, all smug and wicked, and you can feel him smirk against your skin. "You want my cum, baby?"
You moan loud, nodding so fast it makes him chuckle.
"Of course you do," he murmurs, voice low and gravelly, kissing his way up to your ear. "This needy little pussy loves my cum, huh?"
"Yes," you gasp, writhing against him, trying to push back and take him deeper, to make him give it to you.
But he just teases, slowing his thrusts, dragging every inch out before pushing back in so slowly, letting you feel just how thick and hot he is inside you. "Thought you were mad at me, pretty girl."
"I am," you snap, but it's breathless, your earlier fire softened by the way he's fucking you so deep and slow, pulling every sound he loves right out of your throat.
"Yeah?" he smirks, tongue licking over your racing pulse. "Then why should I cum inside this perfect little pussy if you're still so fuckin' mad?"
"Jason—" you whine, pushing back harder, but his hand holds you steady, thumb pressing into your hip, controlling the pace no matter how desperate you are.
"Gotta convince me, baby," he taunts, voice all low and syrupy sweet, fingers sliding down to your clit just to flick it, making you jolt and clench down hard on his cock. "Why should I fill you up, huh? Gimme one good reason."
"Because I need it," you gasp, fingers clawing at the couch cushions. "Need you to cum inside me, need to feel it—fuck—please, Jay."
"Need it?" He grins against your neck, biting just hard enough to make you yelp. "Sounds like my girl's not so mad after all."
"I am—"
"No, you're not," he cuts you off, fucking into you a little faster, just to hear the pitch of your voice climb. "You just like actin' tough until you're full of my dick, huh?"
You nod frantically, pride shredded, nothing left but raw, aching need. "Yes—yes—God, yes—please, Jay."
"Please, what?" His cock drags against your sweet spot with every thrust, his fingers circling your clit again, faster this time. "Say it, baby. Tell me exactly what you want."
"Want you to cum inside me," you sob, back arching, thighs trembling. "Want to feel it dripping out—want to be so fucking full of you, Jay, please—"
That does it. His grip tightens as he snaps his hips forward, fucking you deep, no more teasing, just hard, filthy thrusts, skin slapping skin, his cock driving into your slick little cunt until the wet noises echo louder than your breathless moans.
"Fuck, baby," he groans, forehead pressing to your shoulder. "Gonna give it to you, gonna fill this perfect pussy up."
You moan his name like a prayer, clenching down so hard it makes him stutter, and then he's gone, hips jerking, cock throbbing deep inside you as he spills, hot and thick, cum flooding your pussy in pulse after pulse after pulse.
It's so much—the heat of it, the way his dick twitches inside you with every spurt, and fuck, you feel everything. The way his cock pulses, the way his cum paints your insides, so deep, so full, your body reacts before you even realize, pleasure slamming through you again, white hot and all consuming.
"Oh—fuck—fuck—"
Your whole body trembles, seizing up as you arch, as your walls clamp down hard around his dick, the overstimulation pushing you over the edge again, even sharper this time.
Jason groans, choked and wrecked, because he feels it. The way your pussy flutters, grips him like a vice, milking him, dragging out his orgasm as another thick pulse of cum spurts deep inside you.
"Shit, pretty girl—fuck—"
His voice is hoarse, breathless, hands locking onto your hips as he bucks up, rutting into you with slow, desperate rolls, like he's trying to fuck his cum deeper.
You're soaking him, your release gushing around his dick, slick dripping down to his balls, making everything filthy as you keen, breath hitching, body trembling. The pleasure is so much you can't stop shaking, can't stop gasping, every little twitch of his cock sending more sparks crackling through your limbs.
Jason groans again, deep and raw, his fingers digging into your skin, keeping you right where he wants you, his cock still buried inside, still throbbing, even as his hips slow, his whole body shuddering against yours.
"Jesus Christ, baby—" He swallows hard, head falling forward against your shoulder, voice thick, half slurred. "Damn near killed me."
But he doesn't let go. He won't. His arms curl around you, holding you close, keeping you locked against him, cock still nestled deep, even as his cum drips out, thick and hot, making a mess between your thighs.
You both shudder, your pussy milking him for everything, his cock twitching, still so sensitive it makes him groan low in his throat as he grinds against you, lazy and slow. You're so full you leak around him, creamy slick dripping down his balls, sticky and hot, smearing where your thighs press together.
It's messy, obscene, perfect, and he loves every second of it.
He kisses your shoulder, still panting, his hand sliding up your stomach to cup your tits, lazy fingers playing with one nipple. "Still mad, baby?"
"Maybe," you mumble, face buried in the crook of his neck, completely fucked stupid.
Jason's laugh rumbles low in his chest, warm and rough and just so him, his lips pressing to your temple in a lazy, affectionate kiss. "You're a terrible liar, doll."
His cock slips free from your fluttering cunt with a slick, obscene noise, your pussy clenching reflexively at the sudden emptiness, already missing him even with his cum still leaking from your swollen slit. It smears down your inner thighs, dripping onto the couch cushion below, and Jason watches it like a man obsessed, fingers tracing over the slick mess he made of you before finally easing you down against him.
You whine, soft and spent, but you don't fight it when he turns you gently, pulling your smaller body right on top of his, the perfect little puzzle piece to his broad, muscular frame. Your skin feels like it's buzzing, every inch of you overstimulated and tender, but his hands are so gentle.
Big palms soothing up and down your back, warm fingers tracing lazy circles along your spine. His lips find your temple again, softer this time, and the two of you just breathe, hearts still pounding, somehow falling into the same steady rhythm.
You nuzzle into his neck, breath warm against his skin, and for a while, the only sound is both of you catching your breath, bodies molding together.
After a long, quiet moment, Jason's voice breaks the silence—rough, hesitant. "I'm sorry."
You blink up at him, your face blissed-out and sleepy, limbs heavy, but you still reach up, cupping his cheek, thumb brushing gently over the scar there. His hand comes up to cover yours, his palm dwarfing yours as he lifts it to his mouth, kissing your palm, his lips warm and soft.
"I'm sorry too," you murmur, voice soft, but Jason just shakes his head.
"Nah," he says, eyes flicking up to the ceiling like it's easier to talk to that than to you. "It was my fault. I just..." he trails off, breath hitching slightly, and for a rare moment, Jason Todd looks nervous.
You wait, patient and quiet, until he finally sighs, his grip on your hand tightening just a bit. "I never had this kind of love before," he says, voice so low you almost miss it. "Ever."
Your heart aches, and you squeeze his hand back, silently urging him to keep going.
"And yeah, I don't—I don't know how to behave sometimes," he admits, tongue flicking out to wet his lips. "I know it's wrong to be so fuckin' possessive. To assume you're mine just because I want you to be."
"Baby," you whisper, brow furrowing, but he keeps talking, like he has to get it all out before he loses his nerve.
"It's selfish and stupid," he says, frustrated with himself. "But I just... I never felt this way about anyone before. And it's fuckin' terrifyin', but it's also the best goddamn thing that's ever happened to me."
Your chest aches, soft and warm and so full of love for this man who's only ever known how to fight for what he wants, and now he's fighting himself, just to figure out how to love you right.
You tilt his chin until he's looking at you again, your eyes wide and soft and just a little stunned, because yeah, Jason's softer with you, you know that. But this? This vulnerability, this naked honesty, this is rare. This is the part of him no one gets to see.
"What are you talking about, baby?" you whisper, thumb tracing his lower lip. "I'm yours. You don't have to doubt that."
His eyes darken, something vulnerable flickering beneath the heat. "Yeah, but—"
"No 'but'," you cut him off, leaning down to kiss him—soft, sweet, no heat this time, just love. "I am yours, Jay. You don't own me, but I belong to you. And that's my choice."
His arms tighten around you, almost crushing you to his chest, but you don't complain. You just melt into it, letting him hold you like he's afraid you'll slip through his fingers if he lets go.
And yeah, maybe your pussy's still throbbing, and there's cum dripping down your thighs, and you both reek of sweat and sex, but right now? Right now, all that matters is this.
You shift slightly on top of him, just enough to press your lips to his chest—soft, lingering, right over his heart. It's steady beneath your mouth, a quiet, strong beat that reminds you he's here. And you hold onto that, breathing him in as you kiss him again, even softer this time.
Jason's hand slides up your back, fingers weaving into your hair as he cups the back of your head, guiding you up just enough to press a kiss to your forehead. It's so gentle, so sweet, and your chest aches all over again, tears pricking at the back of your eyes.
"I'm sorry I said I want you to change for me," you murmur, voice quiet and a little hoarse. "I didn't mean it like that. I just..." you sigh, fingers tracing idle patterns over his ribs. "I knew what I was getting into when we first met. I knew. And I thought that over time, it would be easier to just... I don't know... get used to the idea that one day you might not come home."
His hand tightens slightly in your hair, not enough to hurt, just enough to let you know he's listening.
"But it's not," you whisper, voice cracking slightly.
"I know," he says softly, his lips finding your temple again.
You exhale, shaky and uneven, and your voice wavers when you say, "I just want you to promise you'll always come back to me. I can't lose you, Jason. You're the only person in my life I've ever loved like this, and I just... I can't—"
The words catch in your throat, and you almost sniffle, but Jason's already there, tilting your chin up until you meet his gaze. And fuck, the way he looks at you—like you're everything, like you hung the goddamn moon—it almost breaks you.
He can't stand seeing you cry. Not like this. Crying because he fucks you stupid? Sure, any day of the week. But crying because you're scared of losing him? That kills him a little.
His thumb strokes along your cheek, brushing away the tears threatening to spill. "I promise, doll," he says, voice low and steady and so fucking sincere it hurts. "I'll always come back to you."
You nod, swallowing hard before you nuzzle back into the crook of his neck, letting his warmth wrap around you like a shield. His arms tighten around you again, holding you like you're his lifeline. And maybe you are.
And yeah, there's still mess between your thighs, and the couch probably needs to be burned after what you just did to it, but none of that matters right now. All that matters is this. Just you and Jason, skin to skin, hearts pounding in sync, holding onto each other like the world outside doesn't exist.
After a quick cleanup—you both do what you can with the poor couch, but honestly, there's only so much scrubbing that'll save it—you end up in the shower together, lazily soaping each other up with that vanilla body wash you love. Jason grumbles about how it's too sweet and not him, but the second you press your slick, warm body against his under the spray, he shuts up real fast.
Wrapped in clean clothes, smelling like dessert, you curl up on the couch, freshly dressed in one of his worn out t-shirts that hangs off your shoulder and a pair of cotton panties. Jason settles next to you in his sweats, bare chested, all warm skin and ink as you tangle yourself around him like the needy gremlin you are.
A box of shitty pizza rests between you—a sad, greasy excuse for a meal, but somehow perfect for tonight—and some trash reality show plays in the background, the kind that makes you both question humanity.
Jason glances at you, his arm stretched around your shoulders, fingers tracing lazy circles on your skin. "So... we good?"
You roll your eyes, groaning dramatically, before leaning over to chomp a massive bite out of his slice, despite the fact you're already holding your own.
"You little brat," he mutters, shaking his head, but there's no real heat in it. If anything, the way he smiles at you—soft, warm, a little exasperated—makes your chest feel too small for your heart.
You just flash him a smug grin, mouth full of stolen pizza, and lean your head on his shoulder, sighing happily. "We're good, Jay."
And yeah, the couch will never be the same, and the pizza's objectively terrible, and the show's giving you both secondhand embarrassment. But with you curled into him, his arm wrapped around your waist, and your bare leg hooked over his thigh, Jason figures he might just be the luckiest motherfucker in Gotham.
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content: guard dog caretaker, past trauma, alcohol, arguments
"No, thank you," Caretaker said sternly, and Whumpee had no idea when they'd even gotten there. Whumpee had been talking to Friend, just the two of them, and Friend kept wanting to make them try the punch they offered at the venue… And Whumpee had had some bad experiences involving Whumper and alcohol.
But they couldn't say no. They kept trying to politely redirect the conversation, and in their floundering, they must've missed Caretaker walking up behind them.
"Excuse me?" Friend asked. "I was talking to Whumpee. Who are you again?"
"I said no, thank you," Caretaker repeated, and Whumpee had no idea how they managed to keep eye contact or their voice from wavering. "It doesn't matter who I am."
"Uh, Whumpee, is this your friend?" Friend asked.
"Yes," Whumpee said timidly. Caretaker was in full guard dog mode, clearly, and Whumpee wanted to keep things from escalating. "But it's okay, I can try the punch—"
"We will not be trying whatever shit you want," Caretaker cut in. Whumpee was flabbergasted. This whole situation would make Caretaker look like a complete villain, so why were they…? "And we will take our leave now."
"Whumpee, are you seriously letting this— this douchebag talk to you that way? Not even to you, but about you. You want to stay at the party, right?"
In their fight and flight, freeze and fawn brain, Whumpee could only do one thing: fawn. "Yes, yes, I want to stay. Of course. And I'll try the punch, really."
"No, you'll not," Caretaker said, grabbing them by the upper arm and physically dragging them away. It must've seemed horrifying, but Whumpee had never been so grateful. "Goodbye."
"Hey— Hey!"
"Goodbye!"
Once out of the building, Whumpee breathed a sigh of relief, almost collapsing into Caretaker's arms. "Thank you, you didn't have to—"
"It's okay," Caretaker said. Gently. Not the way they'd talked to Friend, but the way they only ever spoke to Whumpee. "I don't mind."
"But I made you look like a monster…"
"I don't mind," they repeated.
"Are you sure? What if you get into trouble one day?"
Caretaker smiled. "It's okay, if it was to protect you."
Your whumpee has been in considerable pain since The Event but nobody believes them.
So they take whatever painkillers they can find (alcohol, pills etc), but this just makes everyone even angrier at the whumpee. As time goes on, they’re told their pain doesn’t exist - that it’s all in their head and that they just need to get on with it. The physical wounds have healed, so why do they need to keep bringing it up?
The pain is phantom, until it isn’t.
It's phantom until the whumpee collapses and doesn’t wake up, only for tests to reveal severe internal complications that nobody listened to. Maybe the whumpee deliriously denies pain medication, trying to say their pain is not real after months of being denied as such.
Their pain is 'phantom' until they become more lucid, and reveal that yes: their pain is real.
