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WP and TT: Inkandsolitude

[inkandsolitude]

✿ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ✿

❀ 𝘽𝙚 𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙩𝙮𝙥𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮 𝙤𝙛 𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙩𝙮𝙥𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙛𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙤𝙢. ❀ 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙨 𝙄 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙗𝙚𝙡𝙤𝙬 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙄 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙄'𝙡𝙡 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙗𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙮 𝙚𝙣𝙙 𝙪𝙥 𝙬𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙗𝙚𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙨𝙠𝙚𝙙. 𝙏𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙠 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙬𝙞𝙣𝙜 ♥︎ !

𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐏𝐀𝐃 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐒

Fractured Truths ❥ Mitch Rapp

Cursed by the Whispers ❥ Stiles Stilinski

𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐋

𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐎𝐋𝐅

𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍

𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐋

𝐃𝐂

𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐔𝐒

𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐒

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒

TYRIQ WITHERS

MY PLEASURE

chapter 1

chapter 2

chapter 3

[inkandsolitude]

MY PLEASURE | T.W chapter 3

tyriq withers x blackfem!oc (Imani Brooks)

authors note: guys don’t be mad at me…I had pneumonia and school is kicking my ass rn

Tyriq: you up?

Imani: yeah, why

Tyriq: nothing, just wanted to talk to you

Imani: talk to me about what

Tyriq: ion even know tbh just couldn’t sleep

Imani: same. too many thoughts

Tyriq: oh yeah? bout what

Imani: life 😭

Tyriq: nah I have a feeling you’re lying. you was def dreaming bout me

Imani: boy please, dreaming about you is such a crazy assumption💀

Tyriq: see that “boy please” came too quick 😂

Imani: you not even worth the dream, relax 😭

Tyriq: you sure? i been told i got main character energy

Imani: main character energy my ass 💀

Tyriq: nah, it’s there. just waiting on my co-star to admit it 👀

Imani: you practiced that line didn’t you

Tyriq: maybe. maybe not. either way it landed 🤷🏽‍♂️

Imani: mhm, sureee it did. goodnight Tyriq

Tyriq: imaniiii

Imani: what 😭

Tyriq: do you play video games

Imani: no??

Tyriq: you should download call of duty

Imani: no

Tyriq: please

Imani: no

Tyriq: pleaseee, Ik u got a console somewhere collecting dust.

Imani: how do you magically just know everything? it’s scary

Tyriq: bc I’m him..

Imani: see now I’m most definitely not playing nothing with you 😭

Tyriq: omg stop don’t be like that, I beg of you pls

Imani: fineee🙄

Tyriq: omg yay🥹

Imani: lmao😭

She sighed, tossing her phone onto the nightstand. A second later, she got up, rummaging through the cabinet under her TV until she pulled out her old game console — the one she’d only bought so her nieces and nephews had something to do when they came over.

She sat cross-legged on the floor, plugged it in, and waited for the updates to load, half-annoyed, half-smiling at how easily he got her to fold.

Imani: aight what’s your gamer tag?

Tyriq: KingTy_23

Imani: gtfo… kingty_23 are you serious? 💀

Tyriq: for your information I made the account when I was twelve. Drop yours

Imani: LilNugget_Jr

Tyriq: …excuse me? 😭😭😭

Imani: LMAOO it’s my nephew’s!! don’t do too much 😭

Tyriq: nah that’s wild. LilNugget_Jr 💀

Imani: I don’t wanna hear nothingggg, kingty_23

Minutes later, the headset crackled as the game loaded.

“Yo,” his voice came through, warm and way too clear for her half-asleep brain.

She laughed into the mic. “You sound way too happy about this.”

“Of course. I finally got you on the game. This a special occasion.”

“It’s literally 12:48 a.m.,” she said, but she was smiling.

“Exactly. Prime gaming hours,” he said.

They loaded into a match, and within thirty seconds she’d accidentally thrown a grenade at her own feet.

“IMANI—” he yelled through laughter.

“SHUT UP,” she yelled back, nearly dropping the controller. “It slipped!”

“Nah, you just tried to end both of us. That’s crazy.”

“You’re distracting me!”

“Oh so now it’s my fault?”

She giggled so hard she couldn’t breathe, trying to focus while he narrated her every move like it was a documentary.

“LilNugget_Jr. approaches the target with zero coordination—”

“Tyriq, I swear—”

“—and somehow, miraculously, survives.”

The banter kept going until the match ended, her score embarrassingly low.

“See? Carried,” he teased.

“I let you have that one,” she muttered.

He laughed. “Sure you did, Lil Nugget.”

She was quiet for a second, just listening to him laugh on the other end. It wasn’t anything special — just late-night noise and easy comfort — but it felt… nice.

When the match ended, Tyriq exhaled. “Aight, you tryna log off?”

Imani yawned. “Yeah, I’m beat.”

“Mm,” he said, like he was thinking about something. “You did good though. For a rookie.”

“Rookie is wild,” she said. “I literally carried us.”

He laughed again, softer this time. “Uhhh no you didn’t.”

A pause.

“Fine you carried.” Imani said, giving in.

Then, low — “Night, Imani.”

She smiled to herself, turning off her controller then the console.

“Night, Tyriq.”

Her phone buzzed.

She actually laughed, small and soft.

Tyriq: If you can’t sleep… I’ll be up. Just saying.

She bit her lip and shook her head. He always did that—left the door cracked just enough for her to walk through but never pushed.

Imani: Go to bed. We rehearse early.

Tyriq: You telling me what to do now?

Imani: Somebody has to. You act like you’re invincible.

Tyriq: Not invincible. Just trying to talk to you a little longer.

She stopped. That one landed deeper than he probably meant it to.

Imani: We can talk tomorrow.

Tyriq: Tomorrow then.

—❥❦❧❦❥❦❧ ❥❦❧❦❥❦❧ ❥❦❧❦❥❦❧ ❥❦❧❦❥❦❧ ❥❦❧❦❥❦❧

Imani walked in, script under her arm, hair still a little messy from rushing. She spotted him immediately — perched on the edge of the rehearsal table, hood up, scrolling on his phone.

She shook her head, amused despite herself.

“You and your hoodies.”

He looked up slowly, like her voice was the thing he’d been waiting on.

“They’re comfortable. You want one?”

She raised a brow. “In your dreams.”

“Already had one of those.”

A lazy smirk tugged at his mouth.

“Oh yeah? What kinda dream?” Her tone said she was joking. Her throat said otherwise.

He looked at her for a beat too long, like he was debating how honest to be.

“A good one,” he said finally, voice low enough that she felt it more than heard it. “That’s all I’ma say.”

Her stomach dipped.

She tried to roll her eyes, tried to laugh it off, tried to be normal. None of it worked.

“Vague,” she muttered, flipping her script like it could hide her face.

He nudged her arm with his. “Vague on purpose.”

She swallowed. “Right. ’Cause you mysterious now.”

“Nah,” he said, mouth tugging into that small smile again. “Just tryna behave.”

He nodded toward her script. “You ready to run this?”

“Yup.”

—❥❦❧❦❥❦❧ ❥❦❧❦❥❦❧ ❥❦❧❦❥❦❧ ❥❦❧❦❥❦❧ ❥❦❧❦❥❦❧

They opened their scripts together, but something had shifted from the night before — the texts, the game, the quiet way he’d said good night. Now every line felt loaded.

He started reading first, eyes flicking up at her between each sentence.

She finally lowered her script. “Why do you keep looking at me?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “What you want me to do? Stare straight down at the paper like a robot? I’m checking to see if you’re on the right page.”

“I am on the right page.”

“Good,” he said, glancing up again anyway.

She blinked. “You literally just did it again.”

“What? I’m just—” he cut himself off, a soft laugh slipping out. “My fault. Habit, I guess.”

“Since when?”

He shrugged, still smiling at the paper like it was suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. “I don’t know… since now, I guess.”

“Since now?” she repeated.

“Yeah.” He finally looked up slow, warm, a little shy. “Since now.”

Her stomach dropped in that good, annoying way.

“You’re throwing me off,” she muttered.

“Damn,” he said, quietly amused. “Didn’t know I was that distracting.”

“Well… you are.”

That smile tugged at the corner of his mouth again — soft, not cocky.

“Then adjust,” he murmured. “You all the way over there struggling.”

She shot him a look, heat rising in her cheeks.

“Mmhm,” she said slowly, “say you want me next to you without saying it.”

His smile deepened that quiet, caught-but-not-mad-about-it kind of grin — She was still teasing him, mid-sentence, when he suddenly reached out — slow, casual and hooked two fingers under her chair.

Before she could process it, he pulled.

The chair slid toward him a few inches, bringing her with it.

“Whoa—!” she grabbed the edge of the table, eyes wide. “Hello?”

He bit down on a smile, trying — failing — to look innocent. Those dimples betrayed him instantly.

“You was talkin’ too much,” he said with a little shrug, like he hadn’t just dragged her closer without warning. “Had to help you out.”

She blinked up at him, thrown. “That’s your idea of help?”

He only lifted his brows, soft grin spreading. “Apparently it worked.”

“And by the way I actually love listening to you,” he said quietly. “But I need you to lock in.”

That threw her way more than the chair pull did.

Her breath hitched.

“Oh.”

A tiny smile tugged at his mouth, warm and a little giddy.

“Yeah. ‘’Oh.”

She tried to collect herself, straightening her script even though it didn’t need straightening.

“You could’ve just said that instead of—” she motioned to the space he’d dragged her across, “—whatever that was.”

“Nah,” he said, “that was a way more efficient way.”

She blinked at him, half annoyed, half impressed.

“Efficient, huh?”

“Yeah,” he said, grinning softly. “Got the point across faster than words ever could.”

Imani shook her head, trying not to smile too wide, and turned back to her script. They ran the next few lines, their voices quiet, overlapping a little with playful interruptions — a wrong emphasis here, a teasing jab there.

Just as Tyriq reached over to adjust a line for her timing, the door swung open.

“Hey, y’all rehearsing lines?” Carina’s voice cut through the quiet.

“Yeah,” they said in unison

“Okay,” Carina said, holding up a clipboard. “But when you do the full run, you should be standing. Tyriq, you should be towering over her — like you’re about to kiss her. Make it believable.”

They both got up out of their seats. Tyriq stepped back a little, giving her space, but the way he moved still made her aware of him — tall, calm, confident. Imani squared her shoulders, script in hand, trying to focus.

“Okay,” Carina said, “start from the top. And… go.”

Imani squared her shoulders, script in hand, stepping into the scene. “What — do you just expect me to automatically forgive you?”

Then, he stepped closer, narrowing the space between them. “No… I don’t expect that. But I’m asking for a second chance. I miss you. I really do—”

Imani’s chest tightened. The line was one thing on paper, another when he said it standing that close, voice low, a little breathless. She tried to keep focus on the script, but her eyes kept flicking to his.

“How am I supposed to believe that?” she said softly, slipping into the scene.

“Like… you— you come here asking for a redo and then what?”

Her voice shook a little at the end, not enough to break character, just enough to feel real.

He noticed — his eyes flickered, the smallest shift.

Tyriq didn’t look away. Didn’t fidget. Didn’t blink too fast.

He stayed right there in it, his tone quiet but honest.

“If it’s too late, I’ll go,” he said.

“But I don’t wanna let you go again… let us go again. You’re—” his voice caught, just barely, “you’ve changed my life in ways I never could have imagined.”

Her next line hovered on her tongue, forgotten.

And right then—

Carina clapped her hands once, breaking the moment.

“YES. That! That right there is exactly the energy I want on camera. Keep that tension, both of you.”

Carina moved on to adjust a light stand, talking to someone across the room. Imani finally exhaled, pulse still a little too fast. Tyriq had gone quiet beside her, flipping back through the script like nothing had just happened.

She slipped off to the side, catching Carina’s arm before she could walk off again.

“Hey—quick question,” Imani said, lowering her voice. “Um… when are we filming the… kissing scenes and all that?”

Carina’s eyebrows lifted with knowing amusement. “Why? You nervous?”

“Just trying to be prepared,” she lied.

Her voice was steady, but inside? Chaos.

Carina smirked. “Relax. Those scenes aren’t for a couple more weeks. I want you two fully settled into the characters before we get into the heavy intimacy stuff.”

Imani nodded, pretending that answer didn’t make her stomach drop and flutter at the same time.

“Okay. Cool. Yeah. Just… checking.”

Carina didn’t move yet. She leaned in a little.

“For what it’s worth?” she said softly. “You two have ridiculous chemistry. It’s making my job easy.”

Imani blinked. “Do we?”

Carina gave her a look. “Please. He can’t take his eyes off you when you’re acting. Or even when you’re not.”

Imani had no idea what to do with that information. No idea at all.

And when she looked back across the room, Tyriq was already watching her.

Like he’d been waiting for her to look.

bye divas, hope you enjoyed!

don’t forget to leave a little love

—inksol ღ

[sheinaskirt]

Home 2 u

Fiance!Cameron Cade x Willa Johnson 

Summary: After a week away, Cameron was home. Long nights spent without her, leaving him disheveled and desperate. Right before he left, he proposed to her, calling her his forever. The fresh sparks are still in the air, which brought only ache for Cam to be home.

Warnings: 18+ Smut, unprotected p in v, degrading, oral (m receiving), praise kink, choking, forced anal, language, rough handling, dom/sub, Cam having an aggression episode, cockwarming.

Words:4.3k

–

As soon as he walked through that door, he was on a hunt, a quick one if he played his cards right. A week was hard and long on the man; phone calls, small sneaky polaroids, were not doing enough while away. He needed to be home with her, posted up in his home, his room, his bed with his woman. Isaiah trained him for greatness on the field, but not only did that spark something with him, it lit a fire within him. Cameron's head went to many places while away. 

Balance, the skill to love her while loving a sport that took him away at times. Without a doubt, Cameron loved her more than any gift that was given in his life. She was someone sent from god just for him, so perfect.  Football was where he spent 50% of his life, while the other 50% was with her. 

Perfection is the way to be seen as the best there ever was. Cameron wanted that honor to be called the goat; having that willpower brought a sense of satisfaction. He wanted fans to blow his name everywhere; they were his disciples. He wanted to be perfect for her, outside of football, in their world. Cam wanted to cover her in the finest things she had never had. He wanted Willa to wake up every day and tell him he was her “Protector of all the evil” and “My floating grace.” That’s what kept him going. 

Domination, to have control over everything and everyone. If it was to get in the palm of his hands, it was his, no questions asked. A football, no matter if it was the first game of the season or the national championship. When it’s being thrown 75 yards down a field, he has a target, and that is going to reach. From day one of Isaiah’s retreat, Cam learned that if you can’t find control over things, what's the point of having it all. 

Cameron changed from the time he left to the time he came back. Cameron was no longer in a daze, staring at the walls, feeling like he wasn’t there, or didn’t even look overstimulated by everyone around him. He was tone deaf, observing everything that stood in the way of his success. His head was screaming at him to hurt something or someone. To ease that feeling, he was gonna have to substitute for something else. He knew how to control these thoughts, but they would never leave until satisfied.

That new, fresh ring that sat heavily on her finger was all he could think about seeing again. He vowed to her he was gonna come back, ready and prepared better than before. That their story was only beginning, he was gonna make her proud to be his. 

Cameron walked into their home, leaving his bag at the door, his eyes scanned the space, searching for a glimpse of her. Willa’s smell strongly lingered throughout the house, her rich, over-consuming cocoa smell already staining his nose, making him want to kneel to the aroma. Her Bluetooth speaker blasted Sade throughout the home, reassuring him she was here. He was trying to be patient with her, not wanting to instantly swoop in on the unexpected woman. But it was aching him at the bone, not to.  

His large timberland boots drew him into the grand kitchen, the modern look painted all around, the ceiling was high with dangling lights, counters were marble with a backsplash of granite, and a dark silhouette shadow of Willa stood. Cameron could feel the tension in his body begin to unwind and relax just by the sight. 

Then he found her, distracted, arched over the counter, with her mouth hovering over the speaker of her phone. Not taking a sense of what was going on around her. He just watched her, not long and creepy, but at a sense of he was back in their space again. 

The long, dark locs that usually lay across her back, now wrapped up in a bun, freshly re-wisted at the scalp. Her oiled skin glowed underneath the sunlight that cascaded into the kitchen perfectly. She looked like she had just gotten out of the shower, her body wrapped in a towel. 

“Girl, if he left you with that big ass rock on your finger, oh for sure he got you locked down.” Serenity’s voice came through the phone, Willa’s best friend. Cameron's head tilted to the side, a chuckle coming past his lips. Willa raised her left hand, raising it towards the reflection that came in the room. Glares bounced off of it, bringing sparkles to the walls. 

“That blad-headed nigga doesn’t run me, girl, please.” Her laugh filled the room loudly. The words that came out of her mouth cocked something within Cam. His hands roughly came down his face, watching her with an inflamed desire to reach out and yank her down. Cameron ran their house; everyone knew that. He’s the reason she's at home, he's the reason she gets everything she wants, he's the reason she never goes to bed unsatisfied. Willa saying ‘doesn’t run me’ was a myth in everyone’s book. Cam was not letting that slide. 

Cameron came out of his position on the door frame and into her proximity. His body hovered over her arched back, with a quick blink of an eye, his Fingers dug into Willa’s nape, His grip on unyielding as he yanked her up from the counter. The phone slipped from her hand, and serenity's voice was cut off mid-sentence. Willa’s eyes widened, a flash of fear crossing her face as she was pulled backward, her body arching against Cameron's. 

He picked up the phone, bringing the bottom of it to his mouth. “Bye, serenity, this bald-headed nigga does run her,” And with a click, the phone was hung up. He threw the phone on the counter, leaving it there. 

Cameron was infuriated by the thought of who Willa thought she was. Willa wasn’t as strong-minded as he was, and he knew that very well. Cameron was demented by her words; he’d only been gone for a week, and she thought he was a ‘bald nigga’. Last time they were Intimate, she praised him and how much she liked his hair being buzzed.

As he spun Willa around to face him, his eyes locked with hers, blazing with intensity. Willa’s pupils dilated, her breath catching in her throat. She knew that look, had seen it before, but never quite like this. There was something primal about Cameron now, something that made her pulse quicken in her skin, prickle with an anticipation. This scared her. She didn't know if it was Cameron being home and not hearing him come through the door or if it was how he was treating her.

The air was heavy with tension, the only sound the soft hum of her speaker in the background. Cameron's eyes never left her as he began to walk her backward, his movements deliberate and controlled. The counter edge bit into Willa’s hips, and she felt a jolt of pain, but it was nothing compared to the fire that seemed to be building inside her. Cameron's face was inches from hers, his breath hot against her skin, and she could feel the vibration of his growl as he whispered, “So you think I’m just a ball-headed nigga, Willa?” 

Willa’s heart skipped to beat, and she realized she was in for a reckoning. His fingers tightened around her neck, holding her in place as he leaned in closer. The heat from his body enveloped her, making her skin prickle with sweat. She could feel the attention in his muscles that coiled the power waiting to be unleashed.

“Answer me, Willa,” He whispered, his voice low and menacing. “Is that what I look like to you?” The words were a challenge, a gauntlet thrown down, and Willa knew she had to try carefully. She swallowed hard, trying to find her voice, but it was barely a whisper. “N-no Cameron” 

Cameron inhaled sharply, then let out an infuriating exhale. It was hot against her cold and chilled face. His eyes narrowed, his gaze piercing as he searched for the truth. Her body was shaped underneath him. She looked scared, but she was aroused by this. All the plans Cameron had for coming home were to praise her, gently holding her close until sunrise the next day. That's now long forgotten, left in the back of his mind.  

“God, and the things I was gonna do for you,” shaking his head, he grips her lower jaw, aiming it up to look directly at him, “This whole week I was away, leaving my blood, sweat, and tears at that compound. Leaving my new ringed fiancée here all by herself,”  he examines her diamond-encrusted hand, rubbing it against the pad of his thumb. “I felt bad, you know, had been thinking you were lost without me.” 

“But…Willa, it seems to me you lost your manners and,” he faced to face with her terrified eyes, “forgot who runs this shit around here.” A rush of cool air covered her body. Cameron had yanked the towel off her body, throwing it across the kitchen. Willa’s nipples instantly hardened at the feeling. She was completely exposed, her bare skin gleaming in the kitchen lights. 

Cameron’s eyes hovered over her, his gaze hungry and possessive. 

“Get on your knees.” 

The sound of him brought shivers down her spine, his voice sharp, demanding like there was no other choice. Willa’s leg trembled at the thought, trying to process what was going on. There was a punishment for both, so she would not be in the clear, no matter what. Cameron didn’t have the time for her; his large hand pushed the back of her head, pushing her onto the cold hardwood floor. She gasped in surprise, came out of her lips at the action.

“That's another thing added to the list, can’t remember how to listen anymore, huh?” Cameron's fingers tap her cheek repeatedly. A loud pop filled the room, chilling the room colder than it already was. Willa’s cheek burned, feeling a buzz that needed to be scratched to go away. Cameron shook his head, watching her. Then snap, Cameron has his belt unbuckled and onto the floor with a loud clink, rattling her knees at the impact. 

He slowly unzipped his pants; the sounds of the zipper echoed through the kitchen, like a promise of what was to come. The fabric parting a villain, the bulge that had been straining against the material now, free and standing erect. His cock slapped up against his stomach, hard and angry red at the tip. Precum beaded thickly at the slit, already running down the length in a slick trail. He was long and heavy, the veins running thick along his shaft, pulsing visibly, looked almost raging mad. 

There had been more times the Willa could count that she had seen been face to face with his erection, but this, this right here it was abnormal to see. It made her question so many things. Was he given hormonal shots? Was he taking supplements? Did the week just hit him that ba-

Her thoughts were stopped as fast as they came. Cameron’s hands gripped her locs again, shoving her towards his cock, waiting for her to open. Her lips parted, nervously, settling, still, her breath whispering against his skin. The warmth of her exhalation dances across his flesh, sending shivers coursing through his body, his eyes flashing with fierce light. As Willa’s lips made contact with Cameron's arousal, a low growl rumbled through his chest, the sound of primal, almost feral. His hands tighten in her hair, holding her in place as his hips begin to move, a slow, deliberate rhythm that seems to match the breathing of their hearts.

“You like to act up, this is where it's always gonna get you, on your knees begging to breathe.” his words, coming out as a grunt, were her lips' work on him to good, to stabilize his words his pace quickened, Willa’s body responded incentive, Her gag reflex, kicking in as his arosual pressed against the back of her throat. Her eyes widened, tears prickled at the corners as she struggled to accommodate his relentless rhythm.

Cameron's grip on her hair tightened, holding her in place as he continued to drive forward, his breathing growing more labored as the pace continued to escalate. Well, his body began a tremble, and her hands, grasping at Cameron's thighs, her fingers were digging into the skin of his thigh. Her eyes locked onto his at him desperately for mercy, but Cameron's gaze was unyielding, his focus solely on his own gratification.

The air was thick with attention. The only sound was the ragged breathing, the gagging, and the soft slipping Skin on skin. The moment hung suspended, a pleasure in pain as Cameron's body tensed, poised on the brink of release. Willa’s Eyes never left his face, her gaze trapped by the intensity of his expression. Her own body was a massive sensation, the discomfort of gagging mingling with the thrill of submission as she felt herself being pushed to the limits of her endurance.

And then in the instant it was over, Cameron's body relaxed his grip on Willa’s hair, easing as he pulled back, a string of his cum dropped out of her mouth. Willa’s Eyes dropped, her gaze falling to the floor, as she struggled to catch her breath, her body trembling with the aftershocks of their encounter. Heavy Pants came from Cameron's chest, trying to come down from his high.

“I’m not done, baby, there are still things you need to learn.” Next thing you know, Willa was snatched up, once again, off her knees and over his shoulder. The swift motion brought chills to her naked body; she felt cold, but something deep in her core warmed her body. 

“Cam-” before she could finish, a hard clap filled the room with a squelched yelp. Her ass throbbed with pain, his hands leaving a temporary mark. Willa’s head swayed, holding onto his back, she could see the floor mat changing as Cameron walked out of the kitchen. Everything around her felt dizzy to even keep her eyes open; her head felt light as the blood rushed to her head. She was completely at his mercy, her body draped over his shoulder like a rag doll, her legs dangling in the air. 

Then, suddenly, her bare back met the cold leather couch, body smacking down against it in a quick motion. Cameron’s hands were on her legs, pulling them up into the air as he positioned her to his liking. “My woman knows who runs this,” his eyes watched her gaping whole clench at the emptiness, wet glistening under his gaze. “But clearly she's forgotten her sense of being.” Then, slap, the palm of her hand hit her aching lips. Willa moaned at the unfamiliar feeling; her world spun, not know what to hold onto. 

Cameron’s fingers were behind her knees, steadying her beneath him. His erection, still hard and raging, pressed against her as he leaned over her, his knees closing her in. “Keep your legs up,” He gritted at his teeth. Willa was quick to obey, leaving them up and separated. Cameron’s finger yanked the band that kept her hair up, breaking it out. Willa’s hair was falling due to the rough interaction. 

When it came to intimate moments, Cameron always liked her hair down. It felt good to have something to pull, grip, and hold in those times. Not missing a beat of connection against the two. And he liked the way she bounced when she rode him, till the earliest of mornings.

Cameron pulled his shirt over himself, throwing it across the room. Willa’s eyes caught onto his chest, fresh bruises lay dark and spotty, his abs were deeply sculptured, toning his body. She knew her man from the ends and outs, but football never made him come looking beat up. Cameron’s finger dug through her scalp, finding a grip on her locs. “Aye, eyes up here,” he stopped her in her tracks. 

With the firm grip, he slid into her rough, his cock pounding into her loudly as she screamed. The way he filled her perfectly brought a deep sensation within her body. The sounds of their bodies colliding were like music to her ears; the sensation brought tears to the corners of her eyes.

“S-slow down, Cam,” words pushed out like a gasp of wanted air. Her hands reached up at his palpating biceps to pull him away, but Cameron had too much momentum to be stopped now. His speed only increased from here; the clapping of where the two meet became louder, and Willa’s body ached even more. 

“Unt uh, I’ll slow down when I’m ready. I’m done hearing you talk.”

Cameron’s lips quickly latched onto hers, muting her moans into his. Their lips, wet with saliva, meet at each other's. His mouth was insistent, his tongue probing the depths of her mouth with a hunger that left her breathless. Cameron still pounded into her heavily with no remorse in sight. Pulling away from her no glossy lips, he bit down a little on her bottom lip before fully pulling away. 

Willa’s body was on fire, her nerve endings screaming for release as Cameron pounded into her. She was so close, so close, her climax building with each thrust. His dick twitched to release, wanting nothing more than to explode deep in her walls. With each slap of the skin, it brought pulsating agony to him. But he was not satisfying her just yet. 

Just as she was meeting her release, Cameron pulled out, his cock leaving her body with a suddenness that left her gasping. Sweat beads dripped down her forehead. “N-no, no, that's not fair, Cameron,” she spat out in heavy breaths. Letting go of her scalp, he found the back of her knees again. Pushing her up in an L-shaped position, bringing her lower back arching slightly off the couch.

“It's not? Well, what isn’t? I’m sent away for a week to train not just for me but for us. And I walk in, hearing some straight bullshit come from your lips. That's not fair.” He stated, watching above her nervous eyes. “Back-to-back, these bitches were trying me, you know. Making me want to quit, but quitting is for pussies and I sure ain’t one.” 

Cameron’s cock still stood large, veiny, and straight, raging for more. But slowly his eyes ran down her strunched up body, down, down, and stopped right at her tight forbidden hole. Willa’s body froze up as she watched where his eyes lingered. A smirk broke across his face, knowing she was watching and how fear was running through her body. 

“No, no, no,” she begged, her voice shaking with fear. “Please, Cameron, don’t. I don’t want it.” But he just laughed, his eyes gleaming with lust as he gazed down at her. He moved himself forward, his cock tapping at the pits of her heaven, begging to be let in. 

“Shhh, relax, let me in.” His hands moved to her ass-cheeks, spreading them further apart, her ass clenched at the feeling. “I’ll take you however I want.” Willa saw only a fierce determination in his eyes, a resolve to take her to the limit and beyond. 

Willa and Cameron had never gone this far; the man who was standing over here was not him. There had been times he’d tease her about it, but never full on. This was the man she was supposedly marrying to. She felt trapped, caught in a situation she couldn’t control, and she didn’t know how to escape. All she could do was beg, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own ragged breath. 

“Not ther-” cut off once again by his sudden thrust. Cameron pushed himself in, Willa feeling a searing pain, her body resisting the invasion. Tears running down her already stained face. He watched as he slowly eased himself fully inside her, squeezing through the once impossible. 

Cameron placed her legs on top of his shoulders for better support. He reached his hand out to her wet cheek, caressing it softly, smearing her tears away. “Stop all that crying, baby, it’ll be over soon.” Willa didn’t care when it ended; it was now that she wanted this feeling to go away. Willa’s body was on fire, her ass burning with pain as Cameron fucked her. She was a whimpering mess, trying to grab onto the cushions behind her to ease the pain. 

Willa’s body searched for her pleasure to hope on, the pain giving way to a dull ache. Movements were still forceful, but they were no longer painful, and her body began to respond, her ass clenching around his cock as he fucked her. Then, with one more thrust, his body let go, releasing into her deep hole. Willa could feel the fullness that soaked into her. Cameron’s grunts filled the room, shuddering roughly. 

Cameron’s body was soaked with sweat, his chest shining against the sun that came through the large windows. His body is going fully limp over her, almost falling on top of her, and he grabs the back of the couch to support himself still, muscles strained at the feeling. 

Cameron pulled out his cock, leaving her ass with a soft pop. Her whole slowly oozed out his cum. The white fluid drips out of her, running down. A moan of exhaustion came out of Willa, trying to bring herself back. Willa didn't know how to feel. It hurt like hell, but it was over. She watched as Cameron hovered over her, deeply breathing, trying to regain his strength.

She watched as his body relaxed over her, his muscles no longer looked strained or tense, veins weren’t pumping full of rushing blood. He looked soft, her Cameron. Slowly, he looked recognizable again, and calmness took over him. Cameron opened his eyes, looking over her, no longer in lust but in adoration.

“God, you’re so perfect for me.” Cameron’s voice came out much softer. “If I didn’t have you, I’d be lost, you know, baby.” his lips softly kissed at her temple. “You’re my anchor, the reason I keep going.” Backing away, he stood at his feet. Cameron slowly moved her legs down, letting her body relax. “Think it’s time for me to make you better, yeah?” 

Willa just responds with a whimper, her body overstimulated and exhausted. Her arms and legs felt like noodles floating in the air. Cameron’s muscular arms picked her up gently, bringing her into his arms. “I know you’re tired, mama, but remember I never let you go to bed unsatisfied.” His large hands rubbed at her warm back, while her head rested in the crook of her neck. 

Cameron’s foot hit their bedroom door, opening it to the large room. With a gentle ease, he placed her on the bed. “Climb up more so you can rest on the pillows,” he suggested. This was no longer about his satisfaction; it was hers. Cameron knew what came over him; he had an episode, which started ever since he was at the compound, but he just wasn’t ready to admit what was going on to her. 

Willa placed her head onto her soft pillow, giving her head a rest. He waited till she looked comfortable before crawling up onto the bed, sitting in front of her. Cameron leaned down, kissing her skin gently, a soft connection at her lower stomach, soft breast, and then finally her lips. His lips lingered longer on hers, a quiet message letting her know the pain was over. “Let me know when you’re ready.” 

Willa's soft eyes caught him. “I’m ready.” 

Cameron rolled onto his side beside her, delicately gripping her to turn onto her side to face him. “You’re so perfect,” he praised her as he slightly raised her thigh for access, easing himself in. A moan flew out of Willa’s lips at the feeling. Cameron's lips never left hers, his kisses constant and reassuring. His hands, large and powerful, cradled her hip, pushing her in place as he moved inside her. 

Willa’s hand held the back of Cameron’s head for stability. The air was thick with the scent of their bodies, the sound of their soft gasps and moans filling the room. Willa's eyes, dark and shining, locked onto Cameron's, her gaze searching for something in his eyes. For a moment, they just looked at each other, the only sound the soft rustle of the sheets and the beat of their hearts.

Then, for the first time in a while, her body let go of its release, bringing a long-awaited sensation running through her body. Willa moaned out a satisfied hum. Cameron stills into her, no longer thrusting; he could feel her around him, and that's all he needed. “You didn't–”

“I know, baby, I wasn’t planning on it. Just wanted to make this about you.” Cam’s lips met at her forehead, closing his eyes. Cameron tucked deeply inside her, not planning on leaving there for the rest of the night. This was his home, inside a home. “Close your eyes, baby,” he cooed to her.

Willa let go…feeling at rest again.

__

Notes: NEVER...EVER...AGAIN! At one point, I wanted Willa to shank Cam. But they made it out alive. I'm freaked the fuck out this...is...not...my...speed. A knee-dropping hit the floor, crying fic is coming soon just for payback for y'all freak fucks. Anyway bye sista's!!

Tags:@mamasturn @simplementemeencantafutbol @ga33y3 @dbstr @ichiban94

[inkandsolitude]

MY PLEASURE | T.W chapter 2

tyriq withers x black fem!oc (Imani Brooks)

Synopsis: in which, they finally have that coffee/rehearse lines date. (Idk)

author’s note: one of my best friends literally threatened me and told me to hurry up with the second chapter or else.. (did not proofread this one as well, I’m sorry!) chapter three coming later today, after this homework is done.

The ride home was quiet, but her mind wasn’t.

Imani still couldn’t shake the scene from her head—not the lines, not the moment his hand brushed hers, not the look in his eyes when he said that line that wasn’t even in the damn script.

She unlocked her apartment, dropped her keys on the counter, and let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.

‘Okay, calm down,” she muttered, slipping her shoes off. “It’s just Tyriq Withers. You work with him. That’s it.”

Still, the smiles wouldn’t leave her face.

She took a long shower, let the steam clear her head, then spent the next hour cleaning her apartment the way she always did when her brain was buzzing too loud—wiping counters, folding laundry she’d been ignoring, putting on music she wasn’t really listening to.

When she finally flopped onto the couch, her hoodie on—she reached for her phone.

Notification after Notification popped up.

She scrolled aimlessly for a second until one caught her eye:

INSTAGRAM

“tyriqwithers started following you.”

She blinked, rubbing her eyes. Squinting—then she got up hurrying to her room to grab her glasses. Then blinked again.

“The nigga followed me…i—.” She said going back to her living room as she flopped down on the couch again.

Her finger hovered over the screen before she tapped his profile. Verified check. 234K followers. The most recent post? A photo shoot and interview for Hollywood Reporter.

Her stomach did a slow flip.

Seconds later, another notification slid down.

“tyriqwithers liked your photo.”

From three weeks ago.

Imani gasped, covering her mouth. “Oh, he’s scrolling,” she whispered, half in disbelief, half giddy. “He’s actually scrolling.”

She immediately swiped out of Insta and went to FaceTime.

“Amaya, you will not believe this,” She said as soon as her best friend picked up.

Amaya blinked, still half-asleep. “Imani, Bro—it’s like what midnight?”

“Girl it’s 1pm.” Imani said, sitting cross-legged on the couch. “Anyways, He followed me on Instagram.” Amaya jumped up with quickness.

“I beg your pardon?!” Amaya asked in excitement, bonnet half-way off her head,

Imani nodded quickly. “And not only that—he liked a photo from three. Weeks. Ago.

Imani could see Amaya jump out of bed and run around her room out of excitement for her.

Amaya calmed down catching her breath. “Nah, he’s deep in your page.”

“Right?!” Imani said, laughing and half=panicking. “You don’t just accidentally end up that far back. He scrolled with purpose.”

“You gotta play it cool,” Amaya warned.

“Oh, i am, trust.” Imani said, already typing.” “Very cool. Ice cold. Totally chill.”

Amaya shook her head at the cringy statement, but laughed. “You’re about to DM him, aren’t you?”

“…Maybe.”

Then her phone buzzed—a DM.

tyriqwithers: so you just weren’t gonna follow me back? 👀

Imani froze mid-laugh.

imani.brooks: I was debating it. Didn’t wanna seem too eager.

A typing bubble appeared almost instantly.

tyriqwithers: too late. you already smiling at your screen.

She gasped, eyes wide. “He knows!”

Her friend sat up. “Wait, wait, show me! share your screen!”

Imani hit the share button, pulling the DMs onto FaceTime. “Look! LOOK at what this man is doing—.”

Her friend covered her mouth. “Oh, he’s flirting-flirting.”

imani.brooks: bold assumption.

tyriqwithers: accurate one.

Her friend squealed. “IMANI. He’s good. Be careful.”

imani.brooks: so you’re stalking me now?

tyriqwithers: don’t act like you ain’t looked me up first

imani.brooks: don’t act like you weren’t in one of the most talked about movies this fall… of course I looked you up.

tyriqwithers: how come you never followed me then?

imani.brooks: you probably wouldn’t have even followed me back.

tyriqwithers: oh, so now you’re saying I’m picky?

Imani dropped her phone on her lap, her hands covering her face. “Oh my God.”

Her friend gasped. “He did not say that.”

“He did!” Imani laughed as she bounced in her seat, trying to contain her laughter and failing spectacularly.

—❥❦❧❦❥❦❧ ❥❦❧❦❥❦❧ ❥❦❧❦❥❦❧ ❥❦❧❦❥❦❧ ❥❦❧❦❥❦❧

-time skip

Imani showed up ten minutes early — partly because she didn’t want to seem unprofessional, mostly because she didn’t trust L.A. traffic.

She grabbed a corner table, ordered a vanilla latte, and tried not to look like she’d overthought her outfit — casual jeans, cropped jacket, little gold hoops. Chill. Totally chill.

Then the door opened, and there he was.

Gray hoodie, sweatpants, that easy smile that looked even better in person.

“Hey,” Tyriq said, walking over. “You really showed up early?”

“See? Growth,” she said, laughing. “I’m turning over a new leaf.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, pulling out the chair across from her. “I’ll believe it when I see you on time twice in a row.”

She rolled her eyes. “You talk too much for somebody who was five minutes late.”

He laughed. “Traffic.”

“Mm-hmm.”

They both laughed, the tension easing. He set his phone and script down, glancing at her cup then back up at her.

“You already started without me?”

“I was tryna calm my nerves,” she admitted. “Didn’t think you’d mind.”

“Nah, you good. Cause I actually wanted to quiz you today.”

She leaned back, narrowing her eyes. “Bullshit.”

He laughed, holding up his hands. “I’m deadass! You said you knew your lines, right?”

“I do but—,” she said as Tyriq quickly cut her off

“Uh uh no buts” he said, flipping open his script. “Let’s see if all that ‘favorite book’ energy paid off.”

She shook her head, grinning. “You’re so annoying.”

“Annoying?” he said with a mock gasp. “It’s called dedication.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, rolling her eyes but smiling. “We’ll see.”

She blinked, pausing mid-laugh. “Wait—how did you even know The Waiting Room was my favorite book?”

Tyriq just shrugged, that small knowing grin tugging at his lips. “You mentioned it in some interview like, two years ago. I did my homework.”

Her brows lifted. “Homework?”

“Yeah,” he said, leaning back, still grinning.

“Ohh, so you’re a fan,” she said, smiling into her cup.

He raised an eyebrow. “If I’m a fan, then so are you.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “Nah, I just did my research—”

“Uh-huh,” he interrupted, smirking. “That’s exactly what I said.”

“Actually it’s not, you said homework, yesterday it was research—.” She laughed and he smacked his teeth.

“Homework, research. Same shit. I just like to know who I’m working with.”

Imani squinted at him, fighting a grin. “Oh really? So that explains you liking a photo from three years ago and watching an interview from, what, two summers ago?”

Tyriq laughed, caught. “So you keeping timestamps on me, got it.”

Timestamps?!” she said, laughing. “You practically got yourself caught.”

He put his hands up like, fair point. “Alright, you got me. But that picture was nice, I’m not gonna lie.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Nice how?”

He hesitated just enough to make it obvious, then said, “You looked really pretty in that one.”

Imani tried to bite back her smile but failed. “What’s that I hear? Is that… glazing?”

Tyriq blinked at her, then leaned back, laughing. “Wowwwwwwwww. Glazing is crazyyy work.”

She broke into a laugh, shaking her head. “I’m joking!”

“Nah, you said it with your chest,” he said, grinning, pointing at her across the table.

“Relax,” she said, still laughing. “I’m just saying, you sounded real media-trained for a second.”

“Me? Media trained? Never,” he said, leaning back in his chair with that easy grin. “You should know this, miss ‘I might’ve seen some of your work.’”

Imani laughed, shaking her head. “You really not gonna let that go, huh?”

“Never,” he said without missing a beat, that grin widening just a little.

She rolled her eyes, trying not to smile. “You love holding that over me.”

“Just a little,” he said. “It’s rare I get the upper hand.”

She smirked, tilting her head. “‘It’s rare that I get the upper hand,’” she mocked, dropping her voice into a half-impression of him.

Tyriq chuckled, shaking his head. “Aight, so you just gon’ clown me to my face?”

“I mean, you set yourself up,” she said, biting back a laugh.

“Mmhm,” he said, pretending to think. “We’ll see who’s clownin’ when we run these lines.”

“Mm, I like your confidence. Big words for someone who’s about to sit there and stumble over the first line.” Imani said.

Stumble?” Tyriq grabbed his script. “You mean murder it, right?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Sure, sure. Murder it. But if you’re gonna murder, I’m gonna dissect every little mistake.”

“Dissect?” He teased. “You sound like my chemistry teacher.”

She smacked her teeth and rolled her eyes picking her script back up. Immediately diving into her lines.

“You can’t just walk back in here like everything’s fine and expect me to—”

“—fall apart?” he finished for her, eyes sparkling.

She laughed, caught off guard. “Don’t finish my lines, Tyriq. That’s cheating.”

—❥❦❧❦❥❦❧ ❥❦❧❦❥❦❧ ❥❦❧❦❥❦❧ ❥❦❧❦❥❦❧ ❥❦❧❦❥❦❧

They spent the next twenty minutes running lines, interrupting each other for jokes, small teases, and playful eye rolls.

At one point, Tyriq threw his hands up mid-line: “Alright, hypothetically — if I walked back into your life after whatever happened, how would you feel?”

Imani leaned back, smirking. “Honestly? I’d probably be like… ‘you really showed up again?’ And then roll my eyes before secretly lowkey smiling.”

“Lowkey smiling, huh…so you’re just gonna front like you don’t care?” Tyriq said smiling.

Imani shrugs, grinning. “Yeah, I gotta keep you wanting more.”

“Well can’t you tell it’s obviously working.” He says smirking as Imani chuckled, checking her phone for the time.

He glances at her phone. “You gotta go?”

Imani sighs, smiling. “Yeah…gotta get back before I totally fall behind on homework.” (The homework was calling Amaya and giving her an update asap.)

Tyriq raises an eyebrow, grinning. “Homework? You’re not even in college anymore—you graduated like two years ago.”

Imani rolls her eyes, laughing. She points at him. “See? That’s that fan behavior I was talking about earlier.”

Tyriq laughs. “Fan behavior? I ain’t even doin’ nothing crazy.”

Imani smirks. “Uh-huh…sureee.”

Tyriq chuckles and starts getting up as she begins packing her things.

She looks up at him, smiling, and before he can even protest, she steps forward and goes in for a quick hug.

“See you tomorrow,” she murmurs, pulling back just enough to grin at him.

“Yeah…see you,” he replies, his smile easy, relaxed, like he’s been doing this a lot longer than he should admit.

They both step back, and Tyriq straightens his hoodie, giving her that easy grin again.

“Alright, I’ll let you go before you’re late for…whatever your ‘homework’ is,” he teases.

Imani laughs, shaking her head. “Yeah, yeah…don’t get used to me rushing.”

He chuckles, watching her sling her bag over her shoulder. “I’ll try not to.”

Once she’s in her car, Imani can’t resist. She pulls out her phone and texts her best friend immediately:

IMANI: Amaya…he’s way too much.

AMAYA: omg what happened now lol

IMANI: I hugged him…he just smiled like it was nothing. Just chill. 😩

AMAYA: stoppppp yall are so cute. Ask him if he could pmo to his homeboys, brothers, damn idk someone!

IMANI: I’m literally tryna be professional

AMAYA: professional my ass. you be lying to yourself girl. Just admit it…you’re lowkey easy and so am I🙂

IMANI: lmao shut up

—❥❦❧❦❥❦❧ ❥❦❧❦❥❦❧ ❥❦❧❦❥❦❧ ❥❦❧❦❥❦❧ ❥❦❧❦❥❦❧

Her phone buzzed as she pulled into her driveway.

TYRIQ: You get home safe?

Imani smiled, typing back quickly.

IMANI: Yeah, made it. Thanks for asking 🙂

She grabbed her things, still smiling. “Okay…that was actually kinda sweet,” she said aloud, laughing at herself as she grabbed her bag and headed inside.

bye divas, hope you enjoyed!

don’t forget to leave a little love

—inksol ღ

[slvttyfied]

“DON’T YOU WATCH SCARY MOVIES?” — GHOSTF! T.S

“You never answer say ‘who’s there’ . Don’t you watch scary movies? It’s a death wish”

or an infamous line of killings inspires the heartbroken and the vengeful… or when Teddy Spencer just can’t quite understand what you don’t see in him..

warnings: 18+ material (MNI), Ghostface! Teddy Spencer x reader, stalking, harassment, mentions of murder, obsession, breaking and entering, threats, kidnapping (use of chloroform), cussing/swearing, smut, hair pulling, choking, dubious consent, pnv/penetration, dirty talk, hate sex (lowkey), degrading, creampie.

a.n: hey stinkiesss ♥️ thank you for voting for this on the poll I posted recently! I’m super, super excited to give this to y’all! Ghostface meets South Port! I don’t think y’all ready for this one… 😋 Heed those warnings! Enjoy 🤭

on the jukebox: ‘Lipstick’ by Ariel Pink 🎀🔪

.

“Who’s this?” The cordless landline phone pressed coolly against your ear and side of your face.

Nothing.. again. You didn’t have time to be formal when you looked at the caller idea before accepting the call.

‘UNKNOWN NUMBER’

It’d been going on for almost a week now and it was starting to piss you off. You rolled your eyes and finally hung up.

“Did they say anything this time?” Danica asked from behind you. You turned to face her and shook your head, placing the phone back on its hook.

“They never say anything, it’s fucking weird. I can’t afford to replace this landline again” you plopped beside the blonde on your living room couch.

“Can’t you just get the number changed?” Danica passed you the large popcorn filled bowl, a hearty mix of cheddar and caramel popped kernels borderline spilling over the top.

You only shrugged and began eating at the popcorn. You fixed your eyes on the mounted flat screen in front of you, the Hulu browsing screen plastered on the front.

“It’s probably some stupid kids from the neighborhood, it’ll be fine. What are we watching tonight?”

Danica sighed, “Nightmare on Elm Street?”

“No way, I thought it was a Friday the 13th marathon night?” The adorable voice of Ava Brucks cut in from the back near your front door. You and Danica turned your heads to look at her.

“It’s whatever anyone wants to watch, I really don’t care” You replied.

“You’re too cute to be so indecisive, (Y/N). It’s your house and your streaming system, you make the decision” Stevie Ward also called out, walking into the expansive living room and settling on your other couch. Ava beside her.

“It’s—“ you began only to be cut off by your door opening yet again. It was Milo.

“(Y/N) doesn’t get to do anything she doesn’t want to do. Somebody just pick a damn movie” He also plopped next to Ava, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

You went to open your mouth but the shrill sound of your landline ringing out stopped you. Your fingers pressed to your temples, eyes closed.

“I’m actually going to kill myself—“ you mumbled to yourself before focusing on the watchful group. You stood and grabbed the landline. “Nightmare on Elm Street! There, I picked. Y’all please turn the movie on, Jesus Christ”

You pressed the call button and walked into your kitchen, the cold material at your ear again.

“Hello, yes? What is it?” Nothing… again. You groaned, officially irritated. “Whoever is doing this, I can have your line traced, leave me the fuck alone”

You hung up, even going as far as to go into the phone settings and block the number.

You returned to your group of friends. The same group of friends that cut on the movie but instead had it paused, their watchful eyes on you as you walked into the frame.

“Why isn’t the movie playing?”

Danica replied, “we didn’t want to start without you. We almost let it play but we uh—“

“We heard you giving somebody the business on the phone, call us nosy” Stevie only shrugged, Ava swatted at her arm.

The brunette looked at you. “We really didn’t mean to, we were just curious if it was your parents.. or the same person that’s been calling you like this. We’re a little worried about you, (Y/N) that’s all”

You took in a breath, running a hand through your lions mane of curls. You took your original seat next to Danica and laid your head on her shoulder.

“I just don’t know guys, I don’t know who it could be. I just blocked them so hopefully the calls stop but.. I couldn’t tell you why I’m getting them.. or who has this much time”

The air went still, no one said anything. That is until Milo decided to.

“What if it’s Teddy?”

Your breath caught in your throat, immediately you waved it off— physically waving your hand. “Don’t even bring him up or say his name, please. It’s not Teddy, Teddy knows better. Unless he wants my father’s shotgun putting a hole in his back, he knows not to be harassing me”

“W-where is Teddy?” Ava nervously inquired, the topic being very sensitive for everyone. Mostly you.

“Gone” you simply responded, “his father paid me not to report his sorry ass in exchange for Teddy moving out of South Port. So, it can’t be Teddy. Again, Teddy knows better”

Danica nodded and grabbed your hand in support. “But we can agree that it’s a fair question? It’s not like things are normal here right now, three people were murdered just last week”

You winced, Danica saying the quiet part out loud. You didn’t want the fear to consume you the way it was slowly building up to. Not one person but two of them, around the age of every person sitting in your living room.

Butchered, slashed, and basically mutilated.

“That doesn’t have anything to do with us, Danica. Plus, Teddy isn’t a killer, if that’s what you’re implying—“

“No, no, no! Not in the slightest. I’m just saying.. we all know Teddy’s temper. Maybe he’s not the one killing people here in South Port but I wouldn’t put it past him if he’s the one calling. He didn’t take your breakup lightly, (Y/N), that’s all I’m saying”

It was true, despite the fact that you rolled your eyes. You and Teddy dated for two years before he kept pulling you into a world that wasn’t like yours.

The influence of Teddy’s opulent family had a grip on him tighter than he’d like to admit. You weren’t ready for marriage— they were. You weren’t ready for motherhood— they were.

They looked at you and Teddy graduating college together as love story that mirrored their own. And Teddy ate it up.

Everyone had an uncomfortable look on their face and you hated it. Their fierce loyalty to you had them exiling Teddy on your behalf, they wanted nothing to do with him either.

“Should we even be watching somethin scary tonight?” Milo half joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Ava laid her head on his shoulder. “As long as you don’t fall asleep then he’ll getcha” she pointed to the paused title screen of the film.

Thankfully, everyone laughed.

.

This next time around, the group couldn’t bring themselves to be humorous. They sat on backyard porch couches, the energy dark.

In the middle of the table lay three different letters, all opened and out of their blank envelopes.

I LIKE TO WATCH YOU SLEEP

YOU’LL DIE WHEN I WANT YOU TO, (Y/N)

NO ONE CAN PROTECT YOU

‘Is that blood?’ You examined more of the ink.. it didn’t look like red marker. You shivered.

“These are new, the other ones I got are already with the police for evidence” you bit on the nail of your thumb nervously, your bottom lip quivering.

You were standing and pacing, heart going miles ahead. It was hard to focus on anything lately. It also didn’t help that your parents were gone on a dual business trip, the huge family house felt eerie when it was just you in it.

“I don’t know what to do guys” your voice shook, “my parents aren’t back until next week and the police aren’t doing anything. I’m not safe here”

Danica softly grabbed your other hand and pulled you next to her, her arms around your trembling figure.

“Don’t worry about being here by yourself, okay? We’re gonna pack a bag and you’re staying with me until your parents get back, no objections”

Nightfall dawned upon your suburban home as you paced around your bedroom, a large duffle bag on your bed being filled with a weeks worth of essentials.

Your bedroom landline rang on its hook on your nightstand. It was Danica. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Hey, I’m on my way! I am letting you know now that I’m being held up by the trains and the railway so if you’re wondering what’s going on, that’s why. I’ll be there as soon as I can, okay?”

You tried not to get worried. The darkness outside was starting to creep you out, you were ready to be away from here.

“O-okay, no worries, I’ll be here. I’m almost done packing”

“Sounds good, diva. Hang tight, I’m literally going to speed”

You both giggled and disconnected the call. You resumed packing, trying to put your mind at ease. The images of your ex flashing in your brain for some odd reason.. it can’t be Teddy.

Having finished packing, you trek down the steps with the bag in hand. You head for the kitchen and suddenly your landline rang again, loudly.

Groaning, you answered. “Danica, I have your location, take your time—“

“Hello, (Y/N)”

Your heart plummeted to your feet. Despite the raspy, unfamiliarity of the voice, you didn’t have to question it.

“You’re who’s been calling me.. threatening me.. sending me those letters”

The voice chuckled deeply. “I just had to get your attention. You can’t run away from your past and you definitely can’t run away from me”

With the phone to your ear, you slowly trekked around the large expanse of the lower level of your home. You walk over to the patio door and shyly peek out of the curtains, nothing.

“I’m not running from anything, you don’t know me”

Suddenly the power in your entire house cut off, pulling you into complete and utter darkness. You covered your mouth to suppress a squeal of terror, tears immediately clouded your vision.

“No? Why’re you packing your bags then? Leaving me so soon? We were just getting started, pretty girl..”

“Why are you doing this to me?” Trepidation dripped from your lips.

“It’s about time you know what it means to be hurt—“

Almost instantly, a chair goes crashing into your patio’s glass door right next to you, the impact alone sent you to the carpeted floor.

Time felt slow as you looked before you. A daringly, intimidating dark shadow of a giant stalked through the new opening. The distinctive, molded screaming mask told you this was real.. that the killer was real and they were right here.

You hauled yourself up, scrambling trying to make a run for it but the figure was faster. He was on you quick, yanking you back by your hair and slamming you to the ground.. right on the broken glass, you cried out.

You raised a shaky hand to the back of your head, you didn’t have to pull back to know there was blood. Through your hazy vision, the figure circled you.

“P-please” fresh tears rolled down your cheeks.

He kneeled down, took you once more by the back of your head and pulled back. His eyes through the mask watched as your skull hit the carpet and your eyes roll back closed. Out cold.

.

By the time you came to, your groggy eyes squinted at the set of bright lights. You recognized them as the patio lights of your backyard.

You also recognized that you were sitting upright.. tape decorated your ankles and your wrists to the chair. Not to mention the heavy feeling of your head.

Having accidentally looked to your right, you gasped out. Sitting to your right bound with rope in his hands and ankles sat Teddy Spencer. Bound, beaten up, and bloodied, his head hung forward, eyes closed.

Immediately your eyes watered at the sight of him. “Teddy?” You whispered out, nothing. “Teddy— baby, can you hear me?”

Groaning, your ex slowly opened his eyes, blinking slowly. He picked his head up and looked around, but as soon as his eyes fell to his left, his panic only upped.

“(Y/N)?” He muttered. His figure sat up straighter, limbs jerking at his bounds. “What’s going—“

“Shh! There’s someone here and they attacked me— they attacked us, Teddy, you’re hurt. We have to get out of here and keep quiet”

Teddy’s eyes swirled in confusion. “I just.. I don’t even know why I’m here or what’s going on.. I haven’t been here since.. everything between us”

You had no choice but to ignore Teddy, your focus on getting yourself out of the tape restraints. You tugged on your ankles, tugged on your wrists, thrashed and twisted. That was until Teddy successful got himself out of his bonds and was kneeling in front of you, opting to help remove the tape. How did he—

“You okay, baby?” He muttered, glancing over his shoulder briefly.

“My head hurts but it’s okay, I can walk. Are you almost—“

Teddy tore apart the last restraint on your ankle before helping you stand up, your hands in his. “Done. C’mon, let’s go”

You hurried in front of the man, eyes searching for a way to take away from this house. But you wouldn’t make it far.

“Fuck, Teddy, I’m so scared” your voice trembled.

Teddy said nothing as he stood behind you. Suddenly, you were yanked back by your hair once again, your neck strained back, eyes glancing up at Teddy. Instead of the familiar hazel blues you once fell in love with was replaced by a darker teal, no emotions at all.

“Scared? Whatchu scared for?”

The rag smothered over your mouth and nose was on you before you could even blink. Your struggles to get away from it were futile, you knew it.. Teddy knew it. He watched you pass out, yet again.

“Scared of being without me? Yeah, I get it, but it’s okay. No need to be scared, baby, I’m here.. it’ll be okay”

.

You woke on a bed, your memory spotty and not the best at all. Too much happened for you to keep up.

You shuffled your sore body on the oddly fluffy, put together satin and silk bed supported by pillows.

“Hey, princess. How are you feeling?” The voice of Teddy Spencer filled your ears but his body sat on the bed beside you. “You had a few cuts and gashes so I got you all patched up. I’m sorry about that.. y’know sometimes when I’m mad, I can’t think good. I just saw you and..”

All you could do was cry, you had no energy at all. You couldn’t outrun Teddy, you couldn’t outsmart him. You were trapped.

He donned a frown in fake concern, his hand ran down the side of your face and thumbed away a tear that slid down.

“Why’re you cryin’, baby?” The man muttered as his eyes yes drank you in.

You wept some more, occasional soft hiccups passing through your lips. “A-are you going to k-kill me?”

Teddy immediately shook his head, sickly leaning down and kissing your cheeks. “Shh no, no, no, I wouldn’t dream of it..”

He kissed down the side of your face some more, nuzzling his nose and inhaling. “I mean.. I have dreamed of it.. that’s why I did what I did. Had to knock off a couple’a randoms in South Port.. my parents too. Dad especially because I know he paid you off and forced me away from you. I just needed to get your attention.. I would’ve did it the traditional way but y’know.. you blocked me on everything and threatened a restraining order and all that. But it’s okay, baby, I forgive you”

More tears streamed down your face, body paralyzed in fear. You couldn’t trust Teddy to be sane enough to spare you. If he had it in him to kill strangers because of his anger, what did that mean for you?

“T-Teddy, please, I’m sorry” you pleaded, he pulled back to stare down at you. God, you were so pretty when you cried. Your shaky hands softly cupped his wrist. “I-I‘ll do whatever— a-anything. I swear. I n-never meant to h-hurt you—“

Teddy chuckled and shook his head. He leaned down again but this time pecked at your lips.. again, and again, and again…

“You never meant to hurt me is bullshit and you know it but it’s okay.. you know why? Because you’re gonna make it up to me..”

He kissed you again but this time it was much more slower and sensual. It was pathetic how easy it was to melt whenever Teddy kissed you like this, he was stupidly good at it.

So good that you didn’t even notice him stripping your jacket off of your arms. So good that you didn’t notice your shirt being ripped into two, exposing your bra clad breasts to your murderous, psychotic ex boyfriend.

“You’ll do whatever for me? You were gonna do that anyway, pretty girl..” Teddy mumbled, lips ghosting over yours before dipping into the crook of your neck.

Maybe it was the fact that you’d been hitting your head all day but your sense of consciousness was in and out. Your body submitted to Teddy with no struggle, he was always skilled in that.

His lips sucked at your neck, his hands slid past the waistband of your panties and sought out your core. His fingers explored everywhere.. dipping inside and firmly drawing circles into your sopping button.

He knew how to work you up.. not that you needed it. You were dripping and it was sick.

His two middle digits were thick and overwhelming as they pumped in and out of you at a determined pace. Teddy hovered over you, watching the way your gorgeous face twisted into pleasure.

“You feel so good, baby” he murmured, “still so fucking tight.. just how I love it. Pussy so damn good..”

You whimpered, trying to stifle a moan that would’ve revealed too much. His fingers continued thrusting, stretching you out.

“Gonna cum for me?” Teddy’s face was back in your neck, kissing and nipping. Before you could respond, he removed his fingers, that earned him a whine of pure desperation. “Mhm… I don’t think you deserve it. You’re the reason I can’t make you cum on a daily basis. You gotta work for this shit”

Teddy worked you out of your bottoms completely, your bra even. You were stark naked. He hardly removed his own clothes, simply unbuttoning his pants and pulling his cock out, giving it a few strokes.

He maneuvered you onto his lap, the head of his angry cock just breaching your entrance. With his hands on your hips, he helped you sink down. Your moans were sweet, your brows furrowed, trying to accommodate to Teddy’s usual thickness.

“Haven’t put this dick in anybody else since you left me, it just didn’t feel right..” Teddy chuckled darkly. “I want this pussy on me and you’re gonna ride this dick, show me why I should spare you..”

Again, your consciousness. The only thing occupying your mind was the way you rode Teddy, almost like second nature. The way your hips ground and swiveled, the way you bounced on him. His hands were greedy— grabbing at your breasts, holding into your hips, groping your ass. He was obsessed.

“Ugh, fuck, baby. C’mon, there you go.. fuckin’ me real good..” Teddy grunted. One of his hands slid up and took a firm hold on your throat, the other one harshly slapping your ass. “Keep it up, don’t get tired on me, you better show me somethin’”

“Shit” you tossed your head back, riding Teddy faster and harder. He let off a string of groans and growls, letting you know you were doing just what he needed.

He tugged on your arm, pulling you into his chest completely. His own arms closing around your body, his hips below you beginning to power, fucking up into you like a madman.

All you could do was cry out and hold on for the ride.

“‘Member when you said you were sorry? Let me hear that shit again” Teddy’s voice in your ear, his hand clapped down on your ass again making you shriek. “You’re sorry?”

You nodded vigorously, “yes! Yes, Teddy, I’m sorry”

He grunted, “yeah? My baby’s sorry? Sorry for what?”

“For leaving y-you.. I’m sorry, I didn’t—“

“Mean to? Don’t fuckin’ lie to me. You knew what you were doing. You like seeing me suffer, don’t you?”

He slapped your ass once more. You shook your head, tears you didn’t even know existed were down your face. “No!”

“No, you do.. you do.. but that’s okay. It’s just all the more reason I’m keepin’ you here, gotta fuck all of that attitude outta you, remind you who you belong to”

His words had your eyes rolling back to your head, the pleasure he was giving you was borderline unforgiving but your body enjoyed it.

“Teddy, ‘m gonna cum, please, it’s too much” you slithered your arms around his neck, burying your face in his neck.

You felt Teddy flip your bodies over, his thickness still nestled deep inside of you. He was hovering over you like before, his thrusts powering, fucking you like he hated you.

“You can take it, pretty girl, I know you can..” his lips turned into a sinister smile before leaning down and kissing you. “If you loved me, you’d cum for me.. give me all of that shit.. c’mon baby, c’mon.. I know it feels good..”

It didn’t take anything at all for your release to spring on you. You and Teddy. Your throat went scratchy and dry from the scream you left off, your body twitched and jolted in Teddy’s hold, and still? Teddy fucked you through it.

No matter how good your walls were squeezing and milking him, he couldn’t falter.

He didn’t give you the option to come down, his thrusts didn’t stop. Your consciousness again..

“T-Teddy, please..” you attempted to beg him to stop but it fell on deaf ears.

You looked up at Teddy with hooded eyes, sight going in and out. You felt his hand cup your face and his words.

“Fuckin’ love you, girl.. I love you so much.. fuck, I’m cumming.. ”

The last thing you heard was his labored breathing and expletives. The last thing you felt was his staggering thrusts and eventually the familiar feeling of Teddy letting loose deep within you.

His heavy weight gently collapsing on you sent you into the darkness you knew of. When he was ready, Teddy pulled out and glanced down at your sleeping figure.

His best girl, his forever girl, his woman, the love of his life.

Adjusting his clothes, Teddy tucked you underneath the duvet, leaned down, and kissed your head. His eyes sought out your belongings sitting on the chair by the door.

He took hold of your phone and simply yet harshly threw the object at the ground, he watched it explode into metal pieces. And still, you slept soundly.

You didn’t need that. You didn’t need anything else that wasn’t him and to Teddy Spencer? That sounded like heaven.

.

.

.

.

.

.

[inkandsolitude]

“Member when you said you were sorry? Let me hear that shit again”

OKAYYYYYYYYAHHHHHHHH

[slvttyfied]

“BUT YOU KNOW I GOT A MAN” — C.C

“Got a girl at home but you callin’ me.. you know I’m taken, baby, I don’t creep” or when Cameron Cade doesn’t give a fuck about your boyfriend.

warnings: 18+ content (MNI), cussing/swearing, use of the n word, reader trying to be loyal, Cameron Cade and his advances, toxicity lowkey.. flirting, alcohol consumption, tension, mentions of sex, infidelity, nothing heavily explicit.

a.n: hey bae, i wrote this on a whim because I heard this song and felt inspired. A lot of my inspirations for my work often comes from movies and music, but especially music. There will be a sequel part btw 🤭 also our face claim for this is Taliyah Joelle! Enjoyy 😚

on the jukebox: ‘idgaf’ by tee grizzley ft c.b & mariah the scientist 🎀

.

“how many times I gotta tell you that I don’t give a fuck”

You closed your eyes and sighed, trying to control your irritation. You often wondered where such arrogance came from but it made sense the more you looked at him.

Him. Cameron Cade— 6’5, smart, notorious wide receiver from the university you both attended, and attractive. He was on track to be professionally considered for this athleticism.. maybe that’s why he walked around like his shit didn’t stink.

Probably why he swore every which way that he could “free you” from your current relationship and take his spot. It was laughable.

“What does your relationship have to do with me? I’m not even saying we gotta date, I just want you all to myself”

That had you shaking your head. Did he think you were born yesterday?

“Cameron, I’m just trying to buy me a shirt for homecoming tonight, please leave me alone” you groaned, hands picking up and grabbing different designed shirts of your HBCU. The school store was decently occupied with plenty of space.

Cameron Cade finding you here was truly a coincidence but once he did, he forgot all about his mission. The way he called your name had you cursing to yourself.

“Just answer the question. What does your relationship have to do with me wanting us to fuck around?”

You stared blankly at Cameron, “um, maybe because I’m in a relationship? A good one at that. If you think I’m going to step out on it then you’re stupider than you look right now”

Cameron Cade leaned down close to you, his lips just above your ear. The feel of his breath sent shivers down your spine.

“Don’t say “step out” like that like I didn’t have you all over my kitchen counter.. the couch.. and the bathroom—“

You hissed and pushed at Cameron’s body trying to create space. The admitted, recurred secret that you tried to bury had your face going red.

“You know that didn’t mean anything, I don’t know why you keep bringing it up”

“No? So, what’d it mean the next time you came over? And the next time after that?” Cameron eyed you, arms crossed. You simply ignored him, Cameron knew how to get you out of character and make you actually consider putting hands on him.

He continued, “all I’m saying is, you can’t act high and mighty like it’s just me. I wasn’t fucking myself all those times”

You sighed. Finally, a nice shirt caught your attention which meant you could buy it and get the fuck away from Cameron Cade.

Cameron Cade merely watched you completely disregard him and head for the checkout counter.

Cameron Cade watched you not even spare him another look before taking your new shirt in a small school store bag and walking out, your hips swayed, ass jumped in those grey yoga pants.

He shook his head, a stupid smile pulling at his lips. This wasn’t over, you both knew that.

..

Homecoming didn’t seem to be any better for Cameron’s behavior. Your HBCU was rightfully crowded full of current students and alumni and yet, Cameron still sought you out.

He dressed in a simple white tank and blue jeans, off white Nike Air Force One sneakers. His hair freshly cut and lined up. He looked something brolic but chill at the same time. He looked good— you wouldn’t tell him that though.

“You look good, tonight” He bent down and murmured in your ear before pulling back and eyeing you some more, green eyes clouding in want and licking his lips. “I like what you did with the shirt”

You ended up cutting the jersey like school shirt into a cropped top, showing off your midsection. You paired it with your best blue jeans and Nikes, your black boho knotless braids in a half up, half down style.

You cradled your red solo up of some sweet tasting jungle juice, sipping carefully. You responded to Cameron’s compliment with a thumbs up, eyes darting elsewhere.

“Your boyfriend’s coming through tonight?“

You shrugged, you hoped so. “Probably”

Your boyfriend attended a different HBCU an hour away. You took turns attending games and different events for your respective universities when you could.

He said he’d let you know before you left out if he could make it, you hadn’t gotten anything from him yet.

You prayed he was coming.

Cameron nodded and also took a sip of his drink. He didn’t say or do anything else, simply stood his tall self perched beside you. You looked up at him.

“Where are your homeboys at? I’m almost positive someone is looking for you at a keg stand nearby or something. Why are you here with me?”

Cameron chuckled and drank from his cup, “I can’t keep my girl company? I can’t stand here and be your muscle to let these niggas know what it is and what it isn’t?”

“It feels like you’re the nigga that doesn’t know what is and what isn’t. Hello? I’m not your girl, Cameron, why isn’t that clicking for you?”

Your icy words did nothing to Cameron Cade. It was that arrogance. He turned to you fully, eying you down from his tall stature.

“And why isn’t it clicking for you that I’m not bothered by that? Why isn’t it clicking for you that I can be a better man for you than him? You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about it all of those times we messed around”

You felt the irritation bubbling inside of you at the hint of your infidelity. Once was a mistake… but you went back after that, so what was it?

“If I’m not dicking you down like I’m your man, I’m doing other things like that too. Whose line are you callin’ when you need some food at 3 AM? When you need to go shopping and need help bringin’ in groceries to your apartment? When you’re sick? When you need company? Not his”

“Well duh, I’m calling you because you’re my friend— we’re friends!”

Cameron gave you a look, “friends that fuck on each other from time to time— right, right, right, that makes hella sense” he sarcastically retorted, “so I can make sweet love to my friend on numerous occasions and be okay with that but the minute I probe at the thought of us being together— I’m the crazy one?”

“Yes! Yes you are because it’s not like I’m single, Cameron—“

“But I know you wanna be with me so get that nigga outta the equation, (Y/N)! What’s so hard about doing that when I’m treating you way better than him, anyways?”

That had you silent. Silent and giving Cameron all of the attitude in your eyes, there couldn’t be real. The tension was thick and overwhelmingly palpable.

“You don’t know that so you can’t say that, okay? To be clear, I want to be done talking about the past because us getting involved like that was a mistake. Nothing to it and nothing more”

Cameron didn’t let his exterior show it but those words cut at him deeply. Like a shot to the heart, he was taken aback.

“I have someone in my life now that I care about and who cares about me and I’m not going to mess that up just because you’ve never been told no, Cameron Cade. Look around— you’ve got so many girls here that would want all of the attention you give me, why not give it to them and let me be?”

‘Because they’re not you’ Cameron admitted internally. Externally, he just went nonverbal. It was the best thing anyone could get out of him in situations this intense.

You sighed, eyes glossing over him. “I still want you in my life as my friend but I don’t want things weird. You mean a lot to me, Cam. I just can’t give you what you want, I’m sorry”

When he didn’t respond right away, you took that as an opportunity to separate yourself.

“I’ll see you later”

..

The rest of the Homecoming night had you flustered and confused.

You were with your girlfriends throughout the night but you couldn’t focus, not when the words of Cameron Cade replayed in your head.

It bugged you the more you thought about it. Why did you keep going back? Why didn’t create a boundary to keep Cameron out of your life? Why did you still want him around?

It also didn’t help that you subtly kept searching for him in the crowds of people at this Homecoming. He wasn’t hard to spot and yet, your sights still sought.

Why?

“Do y’all want more drinks? There’s enough juice left for refills. I can get us some” you asked among your friends.

You probably didn’t need another refill, you were already on your third. But you needed your thoughts to shut up.

“Everyone else is good but I’m cool with another one, thank you” Jacky, your friend, said in your ear, the music loud as ever. You nodded and grabbed her empty solo cup.

You turned on your heels, headed back to the table where the gargantuan tub of jungle juice sat, but you were intercepted. As soon as you turned, someone was walking towards you. You collided hard enough for their drink to go splashing all over you.

The brunette girl was immediately apologetic. “Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry! That’s on me, I wasn’t paying attention. Let me run back and get some napkins—“

You met her eyes and reassured, “you’re fine, girl, it happens. The restroom isn’t far, I can take care of myself. Don’t worry about it”

You gave her another reassuring smile before walking in the direction of a Homecoming occupied school building. The bathroom was a small, unisex, single stall design.

You stood in the mirror, wet paper towels wiping at your shirt and your sticky, exposed skin.

You were tipsy and the alcohol consumption only awakened your active brain. The same thoughts from before grew louder. Tears welled in your eyes as you stared at yourself— what was wrong with you?

Suddenly a knock on the bathroom door sounded. “I’m in here! I’ll be out soon!”

Still, the door pushed open and in the frame came Cameron Cade. You stared at each other in the mirror.

“You okay?” He asked, “I saw you hauling it here, just wanted to check on you”

You nodded, looking away from him and focusing back on the task at hand. “Someone accidentally spilled a drink on me, it’s fine— I’m fine”

When you glanced up at him again, Cameron stepped closer. He wore a frown as he looked at you in the mirror, noticing your teary eyes.

“Hold on, c’mere” His hands grabbed at your forearms and turned you to face him.

“You’re about to cry, what’s the matter? Somebody say somethin’ or put their hands on you? Let me know something’, you know I’on play that”

You stayed silent and shook your head, dismissing his assumptions. The teary look in your eyes only intensified and got even more noticeable.

“What would you do?” You mumbled. “If any of that did happen— if someone did hurt me.. what would you do?”

Cameron Cade was quick. “I’d shut this whole shit down and make it bad for everybody. You know that, I don’t play that disrespectful shit. Can’t nobody do shit to you on or off my watch without being dealt with and I put that on my life, (Y/N)”

Cameron moved a hand to cup your face, his thumb quick to catch a tear that slid out of your eye. His beautiful green irises peered into yours, searching for someone.

“You understand me?”

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the way he held you, maybe it was something deep within you that you didn’t want to admit.

It had you leaning in and closing the gap between you and him. Your lips met in a simple peck that felt like hours.. a feeling bloomed into throughout your chest for even that short instance, eyes closed and enjoying the bliss.

But it was short lived when they opened. You suddenly pulled back and gasped. “I’m s-sorry.. fuck, I’m so sorry”

You ducked from under Cameron and made a beeline for the door, having embarrassed yourself enough for tonight. You barely got it open before it was being shut closed from behind you, Cameron towered over you with an ease that made you want to melt.

With one hand on your waist and the other on the back of your head through your braids, Cameron had you backed against the door.

“Whatchu’ apologizin’ for?” He asked rhetorically and captured your lips once again. The kiss was hot, desperate, and needy.

Your arms back around his neck, short acrylic nails running over his buzzed head. His hands moved down to your jean covered ass and with no hesitation, hauled you up into his arms.

You kissed each other like the world was ending, like you wouldn’t see each other ever again. The only sounds heard where light pants, lips smacking, and the occasional whimpers and groans into a kiss that was getting you both worked up.

When his lips kissed from your jaw and into the crevice of your neck, something inside of you snapped. The tears were back in your eyes.

“S-stop, stop” you muttered and scrambled yourself out of Cameron’s hold. “I c-can’t, I’m sorry”

And with one last pleading look, you rushed out of the bathroom, leaving Cameron Cade alone.

Once again.

.

.

.

.

pt 2 otw

[inkandsolitude]

HELLOOOOOOOOOAHHHHHH

[inkandsolitude]

MY PLEASURE | T.W

tyriq withers x black fem!oc(Imani Brooks)

synopsis: In which it’s Imani’s and Tyriq’s first film together and he’s supposed to play her love interest, but he might be catching real feelings. And so is Imani.

authors note: idk if I like thissss but I hope yall do! not proofread btw so if u see a “you” instead of “she” not being used in the proper POV here or there mb.

no warnings just fluff ♡

chapter 2 || chapter 3

Imani couldn’t believe it she actually got the role. It’s not like she didn’t believe in herself, but still… over a thousand people auditioned, and she got it. And not just any role it was based on one of her favorite rom-com books of all time. Honestly, life couldn’t get any better.

Then she met him.

“Okay, so tomorrow you’ve got a chemistry read with Tyriq at 9:30 a.m. Don’t be late,” her mom reminded her. Ever since she told her she wanted to act, she’d been all in — enrolling her in classes, finding auditions, pushing her to chase it. Her one condition? “Keep your ass in college.”

And that’s exactly what Imani did. So, if acting ever flopped, at least she’d have a degree in… well, something. She honestly couldn’t remember what, but hey — a backup plan’s a backup plan.

“I know, Ma — I won’t be late, don’t worry,” Imani said, smiling and shaking her head.

“You say that every time,” she replied. “Then you show up thirty minutes or an hour late, and it’s always the same excuse — ‘flat tire this,’ ‘traffic that.’

Tyriq Withers. This man was fine in person — like, unfairly fine. And not just that — he was kind, too. The type to make sure everyone around him was good.

Imani gets there and meet a PA named Paris. “Follow me.’’ She said, she moved so swiftly she barely had time to catch up.

She signed in at the front desk, got her name tag, and followed Paris down a narrow hallway into the audition room.

It wasn’t glamorous — just a few folding chairs, a table with coffee, and a camera set up in front of a plain gray backdrop.

Tyriq was already there, hoodie and sweats, sitting on the couch flipping through his sides. He looked up and smiled when Imani walked in.

“Hi, I’m Tyriq” he smiled, standing to shake her hand.

Who doesn’t already know who you are… Imani thought.

“Hey, I’m Imani!” She smiled softly. “You ready?” Tyriq asked.

“Yeah,” she said, laughing nervously.

He nodded toward her script. “You wanna run lines before we go in?”

She shrugged. “If you don’t mind.”

“Nah, that’s what I’m here for.”

They both sat off to the side, reading through the scene a couple of times. He was focused but chill — joked when she stumbled, didn’t make it weird when he did.

A casting assistant peeked in. “Alright, you two are up.”

They both walked into the room together. The director and two producers sat behind a long table, smiling politely. “Morning…alright, just jump in when you’re ready. Don’t worry about sticking to every line. We’re just trying to see how y’all vibe.”

“Got it,” Tyriq said, giving a quick nod. Then to Imani, quietly: “We got this.”

They both took their marks, sitting across from each other. The reader off-camera gave a cue line.

Imani’s character: “You really think showing up like this is gonna make up for everything?”

His character (Tyriq): “I didn’t come to make up for anything. I came to tell you the truth.”

She paused, searching his face like her character was supposed to — except, honestly, she didn’t have to fake it.

Imani: “You had three months to tell me the truth.”

Tyriq: “Yeah, and every time I tried, you hung up on me.”

She almost smiled — he said that with this playful edge that wasn’t in the script.

She fired back. “Maybe because everytime you opened your mouth, it was another lie?”

He laughed under his breath — not scripted either — and it threw her off just enough that she forgot her next line.

“Wait—sorry, uh, what’s the—?” She started.

“It’s the part about boundaries,” he said quietly, pointing at her script. “Go from there.”

She nodded, grateful. “Right, right. ‘You don’t get to just walk back into my life like nothing happened.’”

He leaned forward, locking eyes with her. “Who said nothin’ happened?”

She held his stare. The room went quiet — even the director didn’t interrupt. It was just the two of them, breathing, locked into the moment.

She continued softly, half in character, half not. “You don’t make this easy.”

He smiled — not the confident kind, but the real kind. “Wasn’t supposed to be easy.”

A beat.

“Cut,” the director said finally, sounding satisfied. “That was really nice, you two. Let’s do another take — same energy, maybe a little faster.”

She exhaled, shaking out her hands. “My heart’s racing,” she whispered.

Tyriq looked at her, grinning. “Why, ’cause of me?”

She rolled her eyes, trying not to smile. “Don’t start.”

“You did good” He said smiling softly.

She smiled, trying to play it off. “You didn’t do too bad yourself.”

“Appreciate it,” he said, grinning. “Let’s go again.”

They counted you both in. This time it flowed. The lines hit cleaner, the rhythm tighter. They both started reacting instead of thinking — talking over each other a little, laughing where it felt natural. And when the scene ended, she didn’t even realize the camera had stopped rolling until the director said, “Okay… yeah, that’s the one.”

Everyone in the room seemed to agree — that kind of unspoken yep, they’ve got chemistry moment.

Tyriq stood, offering her a quick fist bump. “Told you we got this.”

Imani laughed. “You were right.”

“Always am,” he joked, then added, “Nah, for real — that was really good.”

She nodded, still catching her breath, still trying to calm the spark buzzing between them.

As she packed up her things, she overheard one of the producers say quietly, “They just look so good together.”

And that’s when Imani knew — whatever just happened in that room, it wasn’t just acting. She stepped out into the hallway, finally letting out the breath she’d been holding for what felt like an hour. Her palms were still a little shaky, the way they get when adrenaline hasn’t quite worn off yet.

She’s scrolling through her phone, pretending to look busy, when the door behind her clicked open.

“Yo,” Tyriq’s voice came from behind, low and easy. “You just gonna dip without sayin’ bye?”

She turned, smiling. “You were talking to the director. I wasn’t tryna interrupt your moment.”

He laughed softly, shaking his head. “Nah, that wasn’t a moment. That was just ‘good job, don’t forget your bag.”

She chuckled, adjusting her tote strap. “Well… you did good, for real.”

He leaned against the wall, relaxed as ever. “Oh stop!” Tyriq said waving her off with a grin. Since they met he hadn’t failed to make her laugh—not once. “Nah but seriously, you made that scene hit different.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Hit different how?”

He smiled, that half-grin that made your stomach do something dumb. “Like… it felt real, y’know? Some people come in and it’s all lines and they’re so boring and it’s no emotion. You made it feel like a conversation, like you actually put some life into the lines.”

She tried not to look flattered. “That’s kinda the point, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but most people don’t pull it off.” He paused, eyes still on you. “You did.”

She didn’t know what to say to that, so she just nodded. “Thanks.”

There was a beat of silence — not awkward, just there. Then her phone buzzed. She looked down and saw Mom on the screen.

“Sorry, my mom’s calling. Gimme a sec.” She said, and he nodded.

She stepped a few feet away but could still hear him chuckling as she picked up.

“Hey, Ma,” Imani said, trying to sound casual.

“So?” she asked immediately. “How’d it go? Tell me everything.”

She smiled to herself, watching Tyriq talk to one of the assistants down the hall. “It went… good. Really good, actually.”

“Good like ‘I think I got it’ good or good like ‘I didn’t embarrass myself’ good?”

She laughed. “Somewhere in between. But it felt right, you know?”

Her mom exhaled into the phone. “That’s all that matters. I’m proud of you, baby.”

“Thanks, Ma.”

Tyriq glanced her way again as she hung up, giving her a small wave.

“So,” he said, slipping his hands into his pockets, “if we both get the part, you think you can handle me on set every day?”

Imani raised a brow. “Handle you? I’m pretty sure it’ll be you trying to keep up.”

He laughed, stepping backward toward the elevator. “We’ll see about that.”

And for the first time, she let herself think it. If this was just the chemistry read… she couldn’t imagine what filming would feel like.

She walked out to the parking lot still grinning, replaying the whole chemistry read in her head every look, every line, that little laugh he did right before “cut.” It felt surreal.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, she shut the door, sat there for a second, and then grabbed her phone.

“Ma,” Imani said the second she picked up again.

“What? What happened?” she asked, instantly dramatic. She let out a breath, half-laughing. “Ma, he is so fine it’s not even funny.” There was a pause — then she burst out laughing. “Oh Lord, here we go.”

“I’m serious!” Imani said, dragging out the words. “Like, pictures do not do him justice. And he’s so tall, and he smells great—” “Focus on the job, not the boy,” her mom warned, still laughing.

Imani grinned, starting the car. “Yeah, yeah. But I’m just sayin’— if the goal was to fake chemistry, we’re good.”

Her mom groaned. “Girl, don’t get distracted now!”

“I won’t,” she promised, even though she’s already smiling way too hard just thinking about him.

“Uh huh, text me when you get home. Love you.” Her mom said blowing her a kiss through the phone. “Love you too ma.” She responded before hanging up.

TYRIQ: Told you we killed it.

She smiled to herself and typed back before she could overthink it.

IMANI: We really did. But wait—how’d you get my number?

It only took him a few seconds to reply.

TYRIQ: Magic.

She rolled her eyes, laughing to herself.

IMANI: Be serious.

She looked at his text “I got connections.” and snorted.

IMANI: Connections? Boy, please.

She hesitated for a second, then added:

IMANI: You could’ve just asked me for my number.

A few seconds later, those little typing dots popped up.

TYRIQ: Yeah, but this way was more fun.

She smiled, shaking her head.

IMANI: You’re just how I imagined you tbh.

TYRIQ: ohhhh, so before we even met you was thinking about me?

Imani rolled her eyes smiling softly as she continued typing.

IMANI: I may have seen some of your work🌚..

TYRIQ: oh reallyyy? ngl i might’ve done some research of my own. Anywaysss i was thinking we should meet up tomorrow, get coffee together. Yk go over the rest of our lines.

She blinked, rereading that twice, the fact that he said “he done some research of his own”. She’s lowkey…maybe highly geeking. “I’m not easy” she muttered to herself. “I’m not easy.”

IMANI: Oh, so this is your way of asking me out?

TYRIQ: Maybe??? And it’s also my way of making sure you know your lines before we book this movie. (This is most definitely his way of asking her out)

She rolled her eyes, laughing to herself.

IMANI: Mhm. “Strictly professional,” right?

TYRIQ: oh 100 percent.

She smiled at her phone, biting back a laugh.

IMANI: You’re ridiculous. Also thanks for going over lines with me.

TYRIQ: My pleasure. See you tomorrow, Ms. Professional.

She locked her phone, still grinning. “Lord,” she muttered to herself, starting the car. “This boy got too much game.”

bye divas, hope you enjoyed!

don’t forget to leave a little love

—inksol ღ

[dearlizzies]

when reading smut and y/n says “daddy”

[szatears]

Heyy!! i have a request for tyriq whithers

Tyriq and reader make a GRWM video together. He keeps messing it up and distracting her with kisses. Viewers love their chemistry.

cocoa butter kisses, tyriq withers.

summary: you never knew how hard creating a youtube video with your hyperactive boyfriend could be...

pairing: tyriq withers x blackfem!reader

warnings: none, mainly fluff

notes: used this as an excuse to rewatch rihanna's vogue makeup video 💋 also i know we all do makeup in different ways but can we ignore how i literally used any brand that came to mind and how many steps i may have skipped 😭

"Hi─── Can you put that down?" You cut yourself off with a short laugh as Tyriq kept touching the different makeup products you had laid out.

"What the hell does this do?" He held up your eyelash curler.

"It curls your lashes."

"It looks like an instrument of torture."

"I can show you. Look," you took hold of it, pushing it towards his face as he dodged it.

"No, thank you. That's all you, babe."

Shaking your head, you turned back to the camera you set up. "Anyways, welcome back! Today, I'm here with my current boyfriend and───"

Tyriq's smile dropped as he snapped his head to you, his arm faltering from where he had a hold on your waist. "Huh?"

You looked up at him, faking cluelessness. "What? Did I say something?"

"What d'you mean 'current boyfriend'? Somethin' happen I ain't know about?" He looked around as if there was anyone else in the bathroom with you both.

"No, but like... It's true. You are technically my boyfriend at this current moment. So, current boyfriend."

He looked at you, trying to grasp of you were being for real or not. You almost had him, until your lips quivered into a smile.

"Girl, I almost dealt with your ass just then."

"I'm sure. We gotta stay on topic though." You patted his chest as you reached for your makeup bag. "Ty's gonna help me do my makeup today! Or try to."

"I got this, relax." He said, flexing his arms behind you. The frame was amusing to you, your smaller body in front of his huge frame, his biceps bulging out on either side of your head. You just knew you'd forget to edit out your huge smirk in that moment, all to have it pointed out by your viewers later on.

"Okay, first I'm gonna prep my face. 'Riq can you pass the three bottles on the top shelf, please?"

"See, I'on know why you keep putting 'em up there if you can't reach," he commented, opened the cupboards that the mirrors were on to grab what you needed.

"Because I like them there, and you'll get them for me if I need them."

"True."

He handed them to you one by one, watching as you explained to the camera what each one was for.

"I'm gonna start with this moisturiser first, then move on to the primer." You handed them in order to Tyriq, watching his movements as he squeezed a small amount onto his finger then gently wiping it onto your cheeks, forehead and chin.

His tongue poked of his mouth a little as he focused, catching your gaze on him. "What?" he smiled.

"Nothing." You turned to the mirror to asses his work, nodding in satisfaction. "Next, we're doing foundation." You took out the Fenty Skin Tint from your makeup bag, holding it up to the camera.

Tyriq raised a hand to take it from you, assuming he was going to apply it to your face like he did with the previous products, but furrowed his brows when you pulled back, the skin tint still in your hand.

"I love you, but I know you'd drain this out if I let you put it on me," you chuckled.

"It ain't that hard to use, girl." He waved a hand at you, leaning against the counter where the camera was propped up, his back to it as he faced you.

"Well, it is kinda runny, and I'm not about to waste like $40 pf makeup."

"Forty?" He looked at you in disbelief, then back at the camera. "Forty?!"

"This shit ain't cheap," you scoffed.

"Forty for that? Rihanna..." you covered his mouth as he trailed off, guessing the direction he was heading towards.

"Shhh, let's keep it cute," you held in your giggle.

"You must want that Fenty brand deal bad."

"And do!"

He smiled as he watched you gently squeeze small drops of the product onto your face, explaining the technique you used to best apply it.

"And then I spray some setting spray in between this and applying concealer just to keep it all smooth." You waved a bottle of your preferred setting spray in the camera. When you opened it, you saw Tyriq lean away from you and the bottle before you even sprayed it.

"You and your scary ass," you fake sprayed the mist in his direction.

"Damn right, you know your hand eye coordination is a little..." he made an off balance gesture with his hand, laughing when your mouth fell open.

"Moving on..." You brought out a couple different concealers, same shade, different brands. Handing them to Tyriq, you let him pick one.

He held up the NARS Radiant Creamy Concealer, to which you tapped your thumb and index finger at him. "See, I know ball." He said at the camera.

He stood behind you as you applied the concealer to your face, his hands kneading gently at your hips. He rested his chin on your head, careful not to budge you as you spoke and dabbed at your face.

"You okay?" You checked in on him, holding his gaze through the mirror. He nodded, leaning down to kiss a spot on your neck, since he didn't want to mess your makeup up.

He stayed like that, arms wrapped around you with his head now resting in between your neck and shoulder. It was a good thing you were stood on a stool so the camera picked up a better angle, or else he was sure he'd be feeling a crick in his neck already.

You were in the middle of explaining why you switched to using a different bronzer when his lips trailed upwards, kissing slowly from your neck to your jaw.

Your words faltered, and you knew he noticed when he gave your waist a small squeeze.

"You can keep going, baby, s'okay," he whispered to you, the little glint in his eyes telling you he was enjoying it all too much.

You shook it off, picking up your favourite powdered blush from the counter.

"I used to be so scared of having blush blindness when I first started doing makeup, like wow," you changed the topic fast, making a mental note to edit out what Tyriq just said to you even though you knew you'd forget.

You unscrewed the lid, grabbing your applicator from the compartment you kept them in. All while doing so, Tyriq stayed stuck to you, his body leaning forward when you did.

You smiled, leaning your head back against his shoulder. He looked down at you, a soft smile on his lips. "Hi," you mumbled.

"Hi, back."

You puckered your lips a little and Tyriq happily complied with your unsaid request, kissing your lips thrice.

"Okay, I actually need to move through this faster. You're distracting me," you groaned a little, fanning yourself from the heat building up inside you.

Tyriq laughed, letting you loose as he put away the products you already used, ever the gentleman.

"Okay, I think that's good. Ty, what d'you think?" You turned to him, wiggling your fingers under your chin waiting for his response.

"Ten out of ten. Would smash. Gorgeous. You free Feb 14th?" was his response.

You burst out laughing when he did that one FlightReacts emote that he was stupidly obsessed with at the moment, pushing him away as you tried to stop tears coming out of your eye ducts.

"See what I put up with?" you said at the camera. "Right last step, and definitely my favourite, is my lips! I bought these new lipliners that I'm super excited to try out."

You put three MAC Cosmetics lipliners in the camera frame, the shades chesnut, beet, and rose.

"I'm gonna go with the chestnut one today, I feel like it'll match the rest of the face," you ripped the plastic packaging off of it, unscrewing the cap and cheering quietly when you realised the pencil was already sharpened.

Tyriq put his phone back in his pocket after leaving you to yourself for a bit, now watching you leaning towards the mirror as you lined your lips.

Not so subtly, he eyed the way your baby blue silk robe lifted the more you leant forward, his fingers drumming against his thighs.

You flickered your gaze back to him through the mirror, a small smile on your lips when you realised what he was doing. "You good back there?"

"Mhm," was all he could manage, straining his eyes away from your back as he pushed himself to walk towards you.

You finished lining your lips, applying some Dior lip oil over it to top the look off. Smacking your lips together, you turned back to the camera with a smile.

"And that's it done!" You said a few more things to the camera before bringing Tyriq back into the frame to say goodbye with you, his hand brushing the swell of your ass as he stood next to you.

"You like?" you asked him, about the completed look.

"I love," he mumbled, pushing your face towards his as he kissed you again, deeper this time, his newfound grasp on your ass allowing him to just about explore your mouth.

"Okay," you pulled away, using your thumb to wipe the gloss away from his lips. "You're gonna mess up my lip combo."

"I'll do more than mess it up, trust. Say goodbye to your friends," he cocked his head towards the camera, leaving the bathroom but not before giving you a smack on your ass.

And you were cheesing through it all, blowing kisses to the camera before turning it off.

user they just called me single in every language ever

user wait why does he know better makeup tips than i do 😔

user do you guys need a dog? i'm available mon through sun 🙏

user sir lower your hand omg... have some decorum 😒

user #NEEDTHAT😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

taglist. @jioats @sturniszn @daniiibanani @dbstr @heauxtales @every1luvsjas @dbstr @ultr9viiolence @marh86 @mistymysticalmoon @scarfest @jedisstark @watamotee33 @angryflowerwitch @skyesthebomb @itsspixiedusst56 @lunaleah @tatertooted

[outkastfann]

me whenever i see shy/introverted/loser!reader fics (i feel represented)

[clarkkentluvr]

𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒: 𝖸𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝖺 𝗌𝖼𝗂𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗌𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝖫𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋𝖢𝗈𝗋𝗉 𝗅𝖺𝖻 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗉 𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌 𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝖿𝖿𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝖾𝗑 𝗉𝗈𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗇. 𝖫𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗅𝗒 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝖢𝗅𝖺𝗋𝗄 𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗉 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗈𝗎𝗍!

𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀: 𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗋𝗄 𝗄𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗑 𝖿𝖾𝗆 𝗌𝖼𝗂𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗌𝗍!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍: 6.9𝗄 (heh)

𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌/𝗍𝖺𝗀𝗌: 𝗌𝖾𝗑 𝗉𝗈𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍 ;)

𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋'𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾: 𝖨𝖬 𝖡𝖠𝖢𝖪!! 𝖣𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗄𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝖻𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖢𝗅𝖺𝗋𝗄. 𝖨 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗒𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒!!!

The key in the lock was a clumsy, fumbling sound. Clark looked up from the laptop that he was typing away with on the couch, a small smile touching his lips. He heard you before you could even make it to the door.

“You will not believe the day I've had,” you announce, dropping your bag by the door with a thud.

Clark was already on his feet, his super-senses, taking a quick involuntary check over your body. No blood, no injuries. Just the familiar, comforting scent that was uniquely you—and something else. Something faintly floral, almost like a honeysuckle.

That was new.

“What happened?” He asked, his voice a steady, grounding rumble that immediately began to calm your frayed nerves. He crossed the room in two easy strides.

You tried to think of the best way to tell him this without him freaking out immediately.

“Remember the new botanical hybridization project. The one I was really excited about? Well, we were extracting volatile compounds from a new species of orchid LuthorCorp imported. And there was a slight… containment breach. Just a tiny one. My vial shattered and released a compound all over me.”

Worry immediately seeped into Clark’s veins, cold and sharp. LuthorCorp and new, unknown botanicals were a combination that just couldn’t end well.

He already didn’t trust Lex, let alone you working for him. But you were happy with your new job, fulfilled in a way he’d never seen you before you landed the position. Being a scientist was your dream, and he would never try and take that from you, even if it meant biting his tongue every time you mentioned your bald and utterly sinister boss.

“Are you okay? Did you get checked out?” Clark pressed, his brow furrowing. His hands came up, hovering just inches from your arms, as if afraid to touch you before he had a full diagnostic.

“Of course,” you said, placing a soft, reassuring kiss on his cheek to ease him. “I’m fine, physically. Decontaminated thoroughly. The on-site medic gave me a full once-over. It's just… we have no long-term data on this compound. The initial bio-assays were inconclusive. It could be perfectly inert, or it could… I don't know. Make my hair fall out. Turn my skin blue. Any other side effects are still unknown.”

You looked at him directly, your expression turning serious, and a little vulnerable. “Thats why I need you to do something for me.”

“Anything,” he replied with no hesitation, his blue eyes utterly sincere.

“Watch me tonight. Just… be extra observant. If I do anything, say anything, that feels even a little bit off, you tell me. My own perception might be the first thing to go. You’re my baseline, Clark. You’re the one person who would know if I wasn’t… me.”

He moved to you, cupping your face in his large, warm hands. He felt your skin was fever-warm, a few degrees above your normal temperature. "I'll watch you. I promise. Nothing bad is going to happen to you on my watch.” His thumbs stroked gently over your cheekbones.

You leaned into his touch with a relieved sigh, then placed a soft kiss to his palm when you pulled away. “Thank you. Now, I'm going to take a shower and try and wash this day off of me. I still smell like the lab.”

Clark watched you retreat. He focused on the beat of your heart. It was faster than usual, but that could be attributed to the stress of the day. Still, he remained on the couch, his work forgotten, now replaced with a more important task.

Making sure the love of his life was okay.

When you finally emerged, half an hour later, wrapped in soft pajamas with your hair damp and smelling of your favorite body wash, you curled right into his side on the couch.

“Now tell me about your day,” you insisted, hoping for a distraction to take your mind off of the potential side effects that might hit at any time. You nestled into the crook of his arm, breathing in his scent.

Clark smiled softly, the worry in his eyes momentarily replaced with affection. “Well, nowhere near as interesting or potentially dangerous as yours. Just starting a new assignment with Lois. Jimmy and I tried that new sandwich spot by the office. The one I was telling you about. The sandwich was good, but mostly condiments.” He recalled. “Also, I helped a cat out of a tree today. A very stubborn, very ungrateful cat.”

At some point during his rundown of the day, you had started to zone out, not out of disinterest or boredom of course, but because you suddenly felt awfully… warm.

The comfortable weight of his arm around you, which usually felt like a shield, now felt like a furnace. A delicious, distracting furnace. You shifted, trying to create a little space, but the movement only pressed you more firmly against the solid muscle of his thigh.

Why was it so hot all of a sudden? You tugged at the collar of your pajama top.

“—and then Perry—” Clark stopped, his sentence cutting off abruptly. He looked down at you, his head tilted. “Your heart rate just spiked. Are you still feeling alright?”

His voice was laced with that specific brand of Clark Kent concern, the one that made your chest ache with affection. But right now, the ache was different. It was moving, coiling deep in your belly, a hot and heavy thrum that was growing more insistent by the second and pooling right at your core.

“It's… it's nothing. Just a little flushed from the shower, I think. And thinking about the side effects again.” It was a lie. The shower had been over an hour ago now. This was definitely way different.

Clark was unconvinced.

You tried to play it off but you began to feel it much more now. The throbbing ache that had taken control between your thighs. You squirmed restlessly and swallowed, your throat dry.

Oh gosh. Please don’t be what you think it is.

Clark’s eyes, usually so warm and open, were now narrowed in that focused, X-ray vision sort of way, though you knew he would never use it on you without permission. He was just looking, really looking.

“Your temperature has risen two full degrees since you sat down,” he stated, his voice low and clinical. "And your pupils are dilated. And gosh sweetheart, you're squirming a lot."

You tried to laugh it off, but it came out as a breathy, shaky thing. “See? This is why I need you. My own personal bio-scanner. My Superman." You meant it as a joke, but the words hung in the air.

His hand, which had been resting on your shoulder, moved to your forehead, checking for fever the old-fashioned way.

The contact sent a sharp, undeniable throb straight to your cunt, so intense you couldn't suppress a sharp, quiet gasp. You could feel every microscopic ridge of his fingerprints, the small calluses earned from saving the world, and all your brain could supply was a frantic, single-minded thought: How good would those hands feel somewhere else?

Clark froze. “Sweetheart, you’re burning up.”

Your mind, usually a fortress of logic and reason, was being flooded with a primal, animalistic fog. Nothing Clark was saying seemed to matter anymore. The only thing that registered was the scent of him, the solid feel of him, and all the previous memories of his body moving over yours in the dark. 

You needed him. Desperately.

You tried to swallow down the whimper rising in your throat. “It’s fine,” you managed. “I’m fine—” but your voice cracked, breathy and trembling.

The faint, floral scent you'd brought home with you seemed to be emanating from your own pores now, intensified by the heat of your body. It was clear now what the compound was that affected you. Sex pollen, lovely.

As a highly skilled scientist yourself, you knew all about sex pollen, including how rare it was, and most especially how strong the effects could be. You didn’t know the exact strain that you had been exposed to, but in general sex pollen’s effect could last for hours after exposure. Not to mention the seemingly insatiable need it could create. And left unresolved, could be potentially dangerous for your bodies nervous system that was being overwhelmed with foreign chemicals.

Your scientific mind, the part that was still clinging to reason, screamed in frustration. Of all the possible side effects—a rash, temporary paralysis, hallucinations—it had to be this.

Sex pollen. And of all the people to be with… it was Clark. Your sweet, kind, impossibly moral boyfriend Clark.

You didn’t know whether it was a good thing or a bad thing yet.

If you were alone, you could probably stick out the heat on your own with some toys and a locked door. You could ride out the humiliating, frantic need in private.

But here with Clark, he was about to see a completely desperate and horny side that even you hadn’t seen before. And he would want to help—of course he would—but, knowing him, he also wouldn't want to feel like he was taking advantage of you. He would see it as a violation of your consent, or an impairment of your judgment.

Hell, you two have only been dating for like six months, is that even enough time for your significant other to fuck you under the influence of heavy sex drugs?

God, you thought, you really don't want him to see how pathetic you were about to become.

And by your mental estimates of how long the pollen took to kick in after exposure, you likely only had about five minutes before you became full-blown, mindlessly needy. Your panties were already a soaking mess.

“It’s not fine,” Clark said, his voice strained.

He could hear the frantic, rabbit-quick pace of your heart. He could smell the intoxicating, sweet scent that was pouring off your skin, a scent that was now making his own head feel light.

And he could definitely smell the slick, unmistakable scent of your arousal building in between your legs. It was a scent he knew, one he loved, but now it was magnified. A potent, pheromonal broadcast that was scrambling his own higher brain functions.

“Sweetheart… why are you, your body is going into…” He paused, trying to think of a way to tell you that he could smell your arousal and recognized all the familiar signs of you being turned on. “You are very turned on right now.”

You whimpered hearing him vocalize the humiliating, undeniable truth. Your body, betraying you completely, pressed back against him, closer than before, your hips giving an involuntary, tiny roll against his thigh. The friction was a spark on gasoline, instantly satisfying and yet deepening the ache exponentially.

“Clark…” you breathed, your hand coming up to clutch at the soft cotton of his shirt, fisting the material. “I… I think I know what it is. What I got contaminated with earlier..”

Clark’s eyes met yours. He seemed to know too. 

Maybe not know exactly what, but he was smart enough to piece together the clues, especially since you can’t seem to stop trying to grind against him.

“A sex pollen,” you told him, the words feeling absurd and terrifying as they left your lips. “A… a powerful strain it seems, one with a delayed response, likely to have a long lasting effect.” You forced your voice to be clinical, to cling to the last vestiges of your professionalism and sanity. “Left unresolved, the neurological overload can cause… physiological damage.”

Your eyes raked over him as he took in the information, but you found yourself getting distracted.

The pollen’s influence seemed to have you zeroing in on every single detail you loved about Clark. One detail in particular: his size.

Clark Kent was a big man, tall and broad, 6'4, all solid muscle. But now, that awareness has become your current hyper-fixation. The width of his shoulders, the thickness of his thighs. Your gaze dropped to the growing bulge in his jeans, and a fresh wave of desperate lust washed over you, so intense it made you dizzy.

You couldn’t help it anymore. The ache and desire for him was too much and you desperately needed relief.

“God, Clark,” you moaned, the words slipping out. “You’re so… big. Look at you. How are you so… much? I need you… I need to feel all of that. I need you inside of me, right now. Please Clark.”

The plea was raw and stripped of all your pride. Your hand left his shirt and slid down, palming the hard ridge of his erection through his jeans. He jerked at the contact, a sharp intake of breath hissing through his teeth.

“Whoa, easy there sweetheart,” he said, his voice gravelly, catching your wrist gently but firmly. His own control was fraying, the scent of you, the feel of your small hand on him, the sight of your dilated pupils and flushed skin was a test of willpower he’d never imagined. “We can’t. Not like this. You’re not in your right mind.”

The rejection was painful, your eyes welling up with tears immediately and a loud obnoxious whine coming out.

“You’re saying no to me?” Your lower lip trembled, “I’m your girlfriend, we’ve done this before, it’s no different.”

“It is different,” Clark ground out, his jaw so tight it looked like it might crack. The hand around your wrist was trembling. “It-it’s completely different. You're not you. This isn't your choice; it's just the pollen talking. Maybe I can take you to the doctor’s or-”

“It's my body!” you cried out interrupting his useless suggestions, surging forward, pressing your heated skin against his chest. The contact only made the deeper, gnawing emptiness worse. “And it's screaming for you. Clark, please. It hurts.” You ground your hips against his thigh again, a frantic, desperate motion. “You promised nothing bad would happen to me. This… this ache… it feels so bad. You have to make it stop.”

That seemed to strike a chord.

You could see the conflict ravaging him. His superheroic resolve, the very core of his morality, was crumbling under the assault of your desperate pleas and the intoxicating, pheromones you were producing in the air.

“I can't… I can't take advantage of you like this,” he whispered, but it was a weak protest.

“You're not Clark,” you begged, your voice breaking as you framed his face with your hands, forcing him to look at you. “You're saving me. You're my hero, remember? So save me from this. Please, Clark. I need you inside me. I need to feel you, all of you, or I think I'm going to like…die.”

Okay, maybe that was a little dramatic on your end, but truly it's what it felt like.

And Clark’s moral dilemma was being less than helpful at the moment. Why couldn’t he just not be a gentleman for once and fuck you into tomorrow like you needed.

“Sweetheart…”

You ignored him, and started placing kisses on his jaw and neck to try and satisfy your need. It helped, but nowhere near enough. You moved lower but Clark snapped out of it again and pushed you back softly.

There was not a single sane thought in your head anymore, you just needed to be filled, and Clark’s denial was making you angrier by the second.

“Clark!” you huffed at him, “Please don’t make me beg for this.”

“I’m not trying to make you beg… I just,” Clark starts shaking his head.

“You are though!” you whined back, “And I don’t want to, but I will, because that’s how badly I need this. Please Clark, I don't want to ask again, you have to make it stop.”

Clark swallowed heavily, and nodded hesitantly. He hated seeing you in pain like this.

“Okay, um alright, but if we do this, it’s on my terms. I need to know you’re still in there, sweetheart okay?”

You nod embarrassingly fast, “Okay, okay, your terms. Just... hurry, please.”

Clark didn't need to be told twice. He pulled you towards him, his fingers trailing up and down the sides of you and paused when he felt you shudder into him.

“Gosh, you’re… you’re so sensitive,” he breathed, more to himself than to you. His gaze was locked on his own thumb, which now rested motionless against the frantic pulse in your wrist.

Hesitantly, he moved one hand. Clark released your wrist, his fingers trailing up your arm, over the soft skin of your inner elbow. The touch was feather-light but you jolted as if electrocuted, a full-body shudder wracking your frame.

“Oh, god,” you moaned, your head falling back. “Clark, please.”

Clark made a sound deep in his throat, a mix of sympathy and sheer, unadulterated want. He was cataloging your reactions, learning the map of your sensitivity without even meaning to.

His fingertips drifted higher, skating over the slope of your shoulder, and your back arched, pressing your breasts against the solid wall of his chest. The friction of your nipples, already hard and aching, against his shirt was equally satisfying and utterly insufficient.

“Does that…” he swallowed hard, his own breathing becoming labored. “Does it feel like this everywhere?”

You could only nod, desperate tears pricking your eyes again. He was touching you, but it wasn't where you needed it. It was like being given a single drop of water in a desert.

God why did he keep teasing you so much?

“Okay,” he whispered, the word a ragged breath against your temple. His hands, which had been wandering with curiosity, suddenly changed their intent.

The hesitant exploration was gone, replaced by a firm, deliberate purpose. He had to give you what you needed.

One large hand splayed against the small of your back, anchoring you to him, while the other slid down, over the desperate, aching curve of your hip.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmured, his voice thick with a restraint that was visibly fraying. He was giving you one last out, a final thread of chivalry to cling to.

“It won’t be enough,” you gasped, your fingers digging into the hard muscle of his shoulders. “It could never be too much.”

With a groan that seemed to be torn from the very core of him, Clark finally, finally closed the last remaining distance. His hand cupped your pussy through your clothes, a firm, perfect pressure that made you cry out.

“How does it feel here?” he asked, his voice a low rumble against your neck as he applied a slow, circular pressure.

“Yes! Clark, yes,” You almost buckled finally feeling the friction that your body has been begging for so long.

“I know, I know, sweetheart, I got you. Finally going to give you what you need okay?”

He shifted you both, lowering you back onto the soft cushions of the couch without ever breaking the contact. His knees nudged yours apart, settling between them, and the new, intimate proximity sent a fresh, violent shudder through you.

His thumb found the damp, heated center of you again, rubbing a relentless, rhythmic pattern that had you bucking against his hand. The pleasure was so sharp it bordered on pain.

“You’re so responsive like this,” he breathed, his eyes dark, his pupils blown wide with awe and desire. “Every little touch… gosh, I can feel you everywhere.”

His free hand came up to cradle your jaw, his thumb stroking your cheek. “Look at me, sweetheart. I need to see you.”

You forced your eyes open, meeting his. He descended, his mouth finally capturing yours in a kiss that was nothing like his usual tender caresses. This was all-consuming, a desperate fusion of lips and tongue that stole the breath from your lungs. It was hot and wet and messy, and everything you needed.

The soft cotton of your pajamas was an intolerable barrier at this point. 

You heard a faint rip as he tore the top apart, buttons pinging against the wall. The sound should have shocked you, but it only sent another violent throb of need through you.

His large, warm hands covered your breasts, his thumbs circling your nipples with a rough, delicious friction that made you cry out against his mouth.

“So beautiful. I can feel your heart beating against my lips.” he murmured, his voice thick with awe and lust as he moved his mouth to your neck, nipping and sucking at the frantic pulse there.

Clark broke the kiss apart to slide your underwear aside and finally dipped his fingers into you, slow and gentle and so, so deep.

“There she is, that pretty pussy,” he cooed. “Gosh, you're so wet. So ready for me, hm?”

You clung even harder to him, nails curling against the back of his neck into his soft curls as you clenched onto his fingers. He groaned, obsessed with how desperate you were for him. You could barely breathe anymore, his slow pace was maddening and utterly torturous.

“Already a dripping mess and I’ve hardly even touched you.” Clark tsks, slipping in another finger and continuing to pump into you.

“Clark, please,” you sobbed, your hips trying to match his rhythm, to force a faster pace. “More. I need more. It’s not enough.”

“Shhh, I know, sweetheart, I know,” he soothed, placing a hand on your hips to keep them where he wanted. “I just need to get you ready to take me. I’m a little bigger, remember?”

Those words seemed to remind you of all the times you were intimate before, and how long he would take prepping you for him because he wasn’t just ‘a little’ bigger than most.

He was fucking huge.

You nod pathetically and let him continue stretching him out. The familiar coil crept in your lower belly and signaled that your release was close. Clark felt it and pushed you to your edge.

The lewd sounds coming from his hand assaulting your wet cunt went straight to your pollen-hazed mind and pushed you right over that tipping point. Your legs were shaking, and you were a moaning mess as you came on his hand.

“That’s right, sweetheart,” Clark encouraged, “I got you.”

You were breathless and still shaking slightly as you finished coming undone on his hand. Clark brushed away your damp front strands of hair and kissed the side of your head tenderly.

His eyes scanned yours, hoping to see if the orgasm was enough to stop the sex pollen haze. But you knew this was far from over. In fact the first orgasm had only cranked up the notch on the pain and worsened the ache. The momentary relief was a cruel trick, and the emptiness that followed was a thousand times more acute.

Clark’s hopeful expression shattered as fresh, frustrated tears spilled from your eyes.

You shook your head, a frantic, desperate motion urging him to continue. “No,” you choked out, your voice raw. “It’s worse. It’s so much worse now. Clark, please, I need you. I need your cock now. Please.”

He nodded and withdrew his fingers, and you whimpered at the loss, but he was already fumbling with his own pants. The sound of his zipper was the most promising thing you’d ever heard.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, but he wasn’t apologizing for what was about to happen. He was apologizing for what had already passed. He brought his glistening fingers to his lips, never breaking eye contact, and sucked them clean with a dark, appreciative hum. “God, you taste perfect.”

He leaned over you, caging you in with his arms, his face inches from yours.

“I’m sorry for teasing you for so long,” he murmured, his voice husky. “That wasn’t really nice of me, was it? Letting you suffer like that.” He nudged your nose with his, a gesture that was somehow both tender and utterly dominant. “Gosh, I’ve been such a jerk to my girl, haven’t I? Making my sweetheart beg when all she needed was for me to take care of her.”

You whine loudly.

“Sh-shh, I’m going to give you everything you need, now. I’m going to make up for it. But you have to be a good girl for me and take it, okay? You have to take all of me.”

The words sent a jolt of pure lightning through your system. You nodded frantically, your eyes wide and pleading. “I will, I promise, I’ll be so good. Just fuck me already.”

In a swift, powerful motion, he freed himself, and your breath hitched. Even in your fevered state, the sight of him, thick and heavy and straining and big, sent a fresh wave of dizzying anticipation through you. He was magnificent and internally you screamed yes, yes, yes.

He settled between your thighs again, which fell open for him willingly and desperately. The broad head of his cock nudged against your soaked, aching entrance. You were slick and ready, your body having prepared itself for him with humiliating, eager efficiency.

He positioned himself at your entrance, the blunt head of his large cock nudging against your slick, heated flesh. He didn’t push in, just rested there, letting you feel the immense pressure, the promise of being filled.

“Look at me, sweetheart,” he commanded softly again, his gaze locking with yours, holding you captive. Then, with a single, devastatingly slow roll of his hips, he began to sink into you.

A choked, guttural cry of pleasure was torn from your throat. The stretch was a perfect, burning fullness that your pollen-addled body had been screaming for.

He was so big, so impossibly much, and he was filling you so completely it stole the air from your lungs.

“Oh, god… Clark… yes, thank you,” You panted, your head thrashing against the cushions. “Feels so good, ‘ngh so big.”

“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice thick with awe. He stilled, buried to the hilt, letting your body adjust to the overwhelming sensation. “There you go. Taking me so perfectly. Look at you, sweetheart. So beautiful, so open for me. Just for me.”

He began to move, a slow, deep, punishing rhythm that he knew would drive you insane. Each stroke dragged against that deep, frantic ache, feeding the fire higher.

“You feel that?” he breathed into your ear, his hips setting a relentless pace. “That’s me. All of me. Filling up that pretty, desperate little pussy of yours. Is this what you needed? Hm? This deep, aching fullness?”

“Yes! Yes, Clark, don’t stop, please don’t stop!” you babbled, your hands scrambling over his back, trying to pull him closer, deeper.

“I’m not going to stop,” he promised, a dark, possessive edge to his voice. “I’m going to get you through this heat, sweetheart. You’re gonna be alright, I got you.”

His words were as potent as his touch, filthy and sweet that pushed you closer and closer to the edge. He shifted his angle slightly, and on the next thrust, he hit a spot that made you see stars.

You screamed, your back arching violently. He only quickened his pace, his hips now snapping into you mercilessly.

You knew he was holding back, a tiny, rational part of his mind ensuring he didn't accidentally break you, but it didn't feel like it. It felt like he was trying to split you apart on his length.

And god did you love it.

This climax seized you with a violence that dwarfed the first. It was a raw, screaming release that left you boneless and gasping, your vision spotting at the edges. Clark followed you over, his own groan a deep, guttural sound as he spilled himself inside you, his hips stuttering against yours in a final thrust.

For a long moment, the only sound was your ragged breathing mingling with his. He was heavy on top of you and he nuzzled into your neck, placing soft, reverent kisses against your damp skin.

“You feelin’ better?” he panted, his voice rough with exertion. “It’s over, sweetheart, you’re alright now.”

He started to pull away, to check your eyes, but a fresh, sharp throb of emptiness made you clutch at him, a broken whimper escaping your lips. The relief had been even more fleeting this time. The ache was back, deeper and more insistent than before, a hollow, gnawing pain that had you squeezing your eyes shut against a new wave of hot, frustrated tears.

Clark froze. He cupped your face, his thumb stroking your cheekbone. “No?” he asked, his voice laced with dawning concern. “It’s not?”

You shook your head, the tears spilling over. “It’s… it’s worse,” you sobbed, the words hitching. “It just comes back faster. It hurts, Clark. It really hurts. I need more.”

“Oh, baby,” he murmured, his expression shifting. He withdrew from you gently, and you cried out at the sudden, aching emptiness. In one smooth, powerful motion, he scooped you up into his arms, cradling you against his chest. The world blurred as he carried you from the living room to the bedroom, laying you down on the cool sheets with infinite care.

“It’s okay,” he soothed, brushing the hair from your forehead. “I’m not going anywhere. We’ll do this as many times as it takes. I promise.”

He wiped away the tears that had fallen and you nodded gratefully.

“How long is this supposed to last again?” Clark asked you.

“Really long,” you said.“Hours”

Clark simply nodded. He didn’t dare remind you that so far it had already been longer than any previous times you’ve been intimate before.

You could see the calculation in his eyes, the acceptance of the marathon ahead. He was Superman. He had the stamina. He would see this through.

You cried out again, the pain a sharp, twisting knot in your core. “Please, make it stop. Just for a minute. Please. One more time, Clark.”

Clark’s jaw tightened. He nodded, his gaze darkening with a new kind of determination. “Alright. Let me try something else.”

He moved down the bed, settling between your trembling thighs. His hands were firm on your hips, holding you still. Then he lowered his head.

The first swipe of his tongue was a bolt of pure, undiluted pleasure. You jolted, a sharp cry tearing from your throat. It was different from his fingers, different from his cock. It was an intimate assault on your senses, and he was ruthlessly efficient. He licked and sucked, already having the rhythm that made you shatter the fastest memorized.

Clark was relentless, holding you down as you thrashed, his name a broken mantra on your lips. The orgasm was swifter and brutal, and left you gasping once more.

As the last tremor faded, he was already moving up your body, his lips swollen and glistening with your arousal. He tapped your cheek gently. “Hey, look at me, sweetheart. How you doin’? Are you with me?”

You blinked, trying to focus. The haze was still there, the ache already beginning to coil deep within. “It’s… still there,” you whispered, fresh new tears falling down your face.

He nodded, a grim set to his mouth. “Okay. Okay, that’s okay. I’ve still got you.”

He rolled you over onto your stomach, pulling your hips up until you were on your knees. He entered you from behind in one smooth, deep thrust, and you screamed into the mattress. This position was deeper, more animalistic, and secretly your fave.

Clark gripped your hips, his fingers sure to leave bruises, and set a punishing rhythm. The sound of skin meeting skin filled the room, punctuated by your sobbing pleas and his guttural groans.

He was chasing your release with a single-minded focus, driving into you as if he could physically exorcise the pollen from your body himself.

When you came this time, it was a silent, shuddering collapse, your body going limp beneath his.

He pulled out, turning you onto your back once more. He was breathing heavily, a fine sheen of sweat on his brow. He tapped your cheek again. “Talk to me sweetheart.”

You could only manage a weak, negative shake of your head. The desperate, achey feeling was returning. Again.

A low growl rumbled in Clark’s chest. It wasn’t one of frustration with you, but with the situation, with the pollen in your body. His eyes glowed with a faint, red ember of heat vision he quickly suppressed.

“Shh, that’s alright,” Clark reassured you, noticing your panicked expression. He smiled and leaned down to kiss you passionately, “You’re doing perfect, sweetheart.”

“I love you, Clark,” you whispered to him, “You’re too good to me. Fucking me so well.”

“I love you too,” Clark says back softly.

Gosh, he felt so bad for you. As much as tried, he couldn’t imagine how much pain you were in right now, especially because it seemed never-ending. So he did the only thing he could to help you.

He flipped you onto your back again, but this time he hooked your legs over his shoulders, folding you nearly in half. The penetration was so deep it stole your breath. He leaned over you, bracing himself on his arms and stilled, letting your re-adjust to his size.

“Please, move,” you begged, your hips fucking up into his.

“I will, sweetheart, just relax. Let me help you out.”

Clark started to move in a merciless, piston-like rhythm, each thrust jolting through your entire body. He was no longer just making love to you or even just fucking you; he was waging a war against the pollen inside you.

He drove into you again and again, his pace never flagging, his strength infinite. He was pushing you, and himself, to the absolute limit, determined to fuck the pollen out of your system through sheer, relentless will.

Clark eventually lost track of time.

He lost track of how many times he brought you to a screaming, sobbing climax. The bedroom became a blur of tangled sheets and shifting positions.

He took you on your side, one of your legs hooked high over his hip, his mouth on your shoulder. He laid you on your stomach and draped himself over your back, whispering praises into your ear as he moved inside you. He sat back against the headboard and pulled you into his lap, your back to his chest, his hands roaming your body as you rode him, your head lolling against his shoulder.

Through it all, he never stopped talking.

“That’s it, sweetheart, take me. You’re taking all of me so well. God, you feel incredible.”

“Come on, baby, one more for me. I know you can do it. Squeeze that pretty pussy around my cock and let go. I’ve got you.”

“Look at you. Look how beautiful you are falling apart on me. My good girl. My perfect, desperate girl.”

You were beyond words, reduced to a state of pure, sensation-driven need. Your legs felt like water, your entire body trembled with exhaustion. But the deep, gnawing ache, while muted by the constant onslaught of pleasure, never fully disappeared. It was a ghost that was waiting for the briefest respite to return with a vengeance.

During a brief lull, as he held you close, his slick skin pressed against yours, you felt him tense. He was looking down at you, his brow furrowed with a concern that cut through the sexual haze.

“Golly, sweetheart,” he breathed, his hand gently tracing the curve of your hip. “You’re going to be so sore tomorrow. I’m… I’m putting you through so much.” He sounded genuinely pained and remorseful, the protectiveness in him agonizing over the very remedy he was providing.

You managed to shake your head, nuzzling into his neck. “Worth it,” you slurred. “Don’t stop.”

He kissed your forehead, a long, tender press of his lips. “I won’t. I promise I won’t until you feel better. But you…” He pulled back to look at you, his eyes full of a fierce, awed pride. “You’re being so strong. You’re taking me so well, for so long. Even after all that begging, you’re just… enduring. You’re amazing.”

He was praising you for your stamina, for your ability to withstand the very storm he was unleashing upon you. It was absurd and utterly intoxicating.

He pulled you into his lap facing him. “Go on, I know you’re not done with me yet. Take what you need,” he commanded.

And you did.

You smiled, then sunk onto his length and rode him. 

You ignored the pain in your legs and chased the high that seemed to never be fulfilled. As you did, you kissed Clark. You kissed his lips, and his jaw, and his neck, each time whispering a soft thank you for letting you use him like this.

Clark’s eyes rolled back, pushing through his own overstimulation to help you satisfy yourself and the pain you were feeling. His hands flew to your hips and guided you as your body moved against his.

He didn’t stop, not even when his come filled you up for the seemingly millionth time and not even when you came on top of him and still begged for more.

He simply kissed you on the forehead and obliged, putting you in more positions. On his face, against the wall, even flying!

Finally, after what felt like an eternity—ten long, brutal hours—a shift occurred.

You were back laying on the bed, Clark moving in you with a rhythm that had now become as familiar as your own heartbeat. Another orgasm was building (you were unsure how you could even manage any more), the familiar tension coiling low in your belly. You braced for it, your fingers digging into his biceps and sheets underneath you, a silent moan building in your throat.

The climax that hit you was different. It wasn't the frantic, desperate, needy release that had characterized the last several hours. It was much slower and softer. As the last tremors faded, you didn't immediately feel the familiar, creeping return of the ache. There was only a deep, heavy, and thoroughly sated exhaustion.

Clark stilled inside you, his body rigid with attention. He searched your face, his eyes wide, hopeful that this time might be it. “Sweetheart?”

You blinked slowly, the frantic, glazed-over look finally gone from your eyes. The feverish heat had receded from your skin. You took a deep, shuddering breath, and it was the first full, clear breath you’d taken in half a day. The oppressive, maddening need was simply… gone.

“I think… I think it’s over,” you whispered, your voice hoarse from overuse.

A massive, relieved sigh escaped Clark. He collapsed as he pulled out of you. He buried his face in your neck, his arms wrapping around you.

“Thank goodness,” he mumbled against your skin, his voice thick with emotion. “Oh, thank gosh.”

You lay in silence for what felt like an eternity, simply breathing him in, feeling the aftershocks of pleasure twitch through your exhausted muscles.

Finally, he spoke, his voice a husky, wrecked version of its usual self. “Are you… are you okay? Did I hurt you… was I too rough…”

You tilted your head back to look at him. You reached up, cupping his cheek. “I'm perfect,” you whispered, and you meant it. “And you were... incredible. Thank you, and I’m sorry for putting you through that for so long."

A shudder ran through him, and he turned his head to press a soft, grateful kiss to your palm.

“I was so scared,” he admitted. “I hated seeing you like that. Out of your mind. I felt like I was... taking advantage, even when you were literally begging for it.”

“You weren't,” you insisted, stroking his hair. His dark curls were damp with sweat. You snuggled deeper into his embrace, the events of the evening replaying in your mind. A slow blush crept up your neck.

“Clark?” you said, your voice small.

“Yeah?”

“Did I, um, I don’t know… was I like too….”

“...needy? Desperate?” he finished for you, his tone joking.

He shook his head, a small, tired smile gracing his lips. “No, no, no. You were perfect. You were in pain, and you trusted me with your body to make it stop. That's... that's the highest compliment I think I've ever been given.”

He brushed a thumb over your cheek, his touch infinitely gentle. “And for the record,” he added, a hint of that earlier, possessive darkness flickering in his eyes, “seeing you like that... completely lost in what I was making you feel... It was the most beautifull thing I've ever seen. A little terrifying, but... incredible.”

You let out a shaky breath, the last of your insecurities melting away under his sincere gaze. “Even the flying part?” you mumbled, burying your burning face in his chest.

Clark's chest vibrated with a low, genuine laugh. “Especially the flying part.” He shifted, pulling the rumpled sheets over your cooling bodies. “Now, you need to rest. Your heart rate is finally normal, your temperature is stable... but you're exhausted and your muscles will definitely feel sore in the morning.” 

As if on cue, a massive, bone-deep weariness settled over you. Your limbs felt like lead, every muscle protesting the hours of relentless strain and god were you sore down there. “Clark?” you whispered again, already half-asleep.

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Thank you,” you breathed, the words slurring with exhaustion. “For... everything. For keeping me safe. I love you so much.”

He held you tighter, “Always," he whispered into your hair and placed a soft kiss. "Now sleep. I'll be right here when you wake up.”

━━━━━━━

author's note:

KINKTOBER RAHHH!!!

lowk headcanon that reader takes notes of everything experienced under sex pollen to bring back as a report for the lab.

anyways, i tried my best y'all lmao, smut is not my strong suit (we all know i much prefer angst)

but either way i hope y'all liked it, and feel free to send me requests for kinktober and i'll try and get out as many as i can!! thanks for all the love and check out my other works <33

[inkandsolitude]

LIKEEEE HELLOOOO

[dearlizzies]

looking at myself in the mirror after reading smut

[winterghosted]

ava and bucky when they're finally alone after arriving back at the compound from a particularly intense mission

[theuleypackshirt]

Hidden Relations' Natisha Hideman

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Paring: Natisha Hideman x Fem!reader

summary: While visiting Indiana, I brought food to T and Court’s hotel room during their livestream. Although I usually avoid being on camera or speaking during streams, I figure it's time my girlfriend didn’t feel like a secret. warnings: The smallest amount of angst, more of a fluff-fic. wc: 1.5k a/n: Hii, okay so this is my first Tumblr one-shot, and just one-shot in general, so please don’t be afraid to leave KIND criticisms. Enjoy!

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I didn’t hate streaming — not at all, actually. What I did hate was everyone being in my business. On live, there’s no filter, no editing, no deleting the parts you don’t want shown. It’s real life, uncut, and I’ve always believed no one has the right to know everything about me.

Still, that didn’t stop both T and Court from constantly asking me to come on their stream, Studbudz, not even as “Tish’s girlfriend,” just as a celebrity guest.

I’d said no. Repeatedly.

But that didn’t change the fact that doing an interview with them would be good press. Especially now, with the way their channel was blowing up. And the way T looked so damn disappointed every time I turned her down didn’t help. She was way too cute to be pouting like that. I hated when she did it. Because I always gave in.

Which is exactly what ended up happening.

Now I was sitting in the driver’s seat of my new birthday car, parked outside some steak and grill place T had been craving, with her little brother Silas in the passenger seat, the way they looked alike was uncanny at times. I was texting Aubry — trying to see if she could come watch me model next week while she was still in town. I was missing my child for real.

Meanwhile, Silas was watching the Studbudz live on his phone, cracking up at whatever dumb shit Courtney was saying. After a few minutes of silence, I noticed him sneaking glances at me. Not subtle ones, either. I let it go for a bit, recognizing the same hesitant energy T had when she wanted to ask something but wasn’t sure how.

Finally, he says, “So…”

“So…” I echoed, matching his tone with a soft teasing one. “Are you really not gonna do the live with them?” he asked, locking his phone and turning to me.

I paused, caught off guard. “Who told you that? Natisha?”

“Um, yeah. She seemed kinda upset about it.”

I bit my bottom lip, trying to calm the sudden spike in my heartbeat. “How upset? Like, really bad, or just regular not-caring?”

He shook his head with a small laugh. “She was like… I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I think the whole ‘hiding y’all relationship’ thing is starting to get to her. Normally she would’ve told everybody and been posting you non-stop. I think it just throws her off sometimes.”

I sat there, quiet, letting his words sink in.

After two years together, it was easy to forget how much of a secret T had felt like in those early months. The arguments that came from it were explosive — ones that nearly broke us apart more than once. I hated the idea of making her feel like that again. But I also hated the way the media treated people like me. I hated being watched. Judged. Picked apart. Back then, I doubted we’d even last this long.

 But we did.

And maybe that changed things.

I was so lost in thought that I hadn't realized I didn't respond to him. I felt his glaze but I didn’t really know what to say to him. My phone buzzed, breaking the silence. A text from the restaurant popped up: your order was ready for pickup.

I licked my lips and mumbled something about going to get the food as I opened the door, still avoiding his eyes.

When I came back, he was watching the stream again. From the corner of my eye, I could see the girls on screen—matching pink buzz cuts, laughing like always. I handed him his food and slid back into the driver’s seat, starting the car.

“You won’t tell her, right… that I said anything?” His voice was unusually soft, and it hit me then—he was just a kid. Only fifteen.

“Hey,” I said, glancing over at him. “Don’t worry. I won’t.”

He nodded slowly., “For what it's worth… I think you could at least let her tell people she has a girlfriend, and just not say who.”

I nodded, really taking that in.

He was right.

I was starting to realize just how much she didn’t deserve to feel like a secret. Especially not in a relationship.

-------------------------------------

I walked back into the hotel room that T and Court were sharing while we were in Indiana. I hadn’t been sleeping here — I was staying with a friend — but tonight I’d stopped by to bring them food.

As I stepped inside, I noticed the camera couldn’t see me from where I was standing. It was angled at the girls, positioned at the height of them sitting on the bed. T was scrolling through the comments, while Court’s head snapped toward me.

“Ayeee, guys, our food is here!” she called out, then added, “We’re on stream, by the way.”

I just nodded, staying quiet like I always did when they were live.

I took the food out of the bag and handed two trays to Courtney — hers and T’s. “This shit looks so good,” Court said, practically drooling. “What took you so long?” T reached toward the mute button so I could talk freely, but before she could hit it, I answered, “I had to drop Seth off to his mom real quick.”

It was mostly true — I had dropped him off. But then I sat in the car for a while, panicking about what I was gonna do.

T’s hand froze halfway to the button, and Court’s mouth dropped open.

“I didn’t mute it yet,” T said, her voice quiet, eyes wide.

“I know,” I shrugged, pretending like it wasn’t a big deal.

As I grabbed my container and a juice, I caught the two of them exchanging the most confused-ass look. Once I had all my stuff, I walked in front of the camera — close enough that the fans would only see my outfit, and not my face. Then I leaned down, my back to the camera, and gave T a quick kiss on the lips before settling into the chair just outside the frame.

T doesn't say anything at first. She's frozen, lips still slightly parted, like she’s trying to figure out if that actually happened or if she just imagined it.

Court’s eyes are darting between the camera, the food, and T like she’s watching a slow-motion train crash. She opens her mouth like she’s about to say something, but nothing comes out. She ends up just letting out a shallow laugh instead.

The silence lasts a few more seconds before Court breaks it by clearing her throat dramatically and glancing at the chat. “Uh... okay, chat is losing it right now,” she says with a laugh, trying to ease the tension.

T finally blinks, looking at Court, then at the screen. “What are they even saying?”

Court starts reading. “They said, ‘WHO WAS THAT??!!’” She scrolls. “‘Was that who I think it was?’” Then she laughs hard. “Bro. Someone said, ‘Tish just got kissed on cam and now she’s stuck.'"

That pulls a laugh out of me, soft, and low. I shake my head, peeling open the sauce container. “That’s actually funny.”

T turns to look at me, eyebrows raised. “You’re talking now?”

I don’t answer directly. I lean a little forward, still out of frame. “Tell chat I brought the good ranch this time. You know they were mad about that last week.”

Court snorts. “You heard her, chat. The good ranch. Don’t say she never gave y’all anything.”

The comments explode again, and Court keeps reading them out loud.

“‘WHO IS SHEEEE.’”

“‘Girlfriend reveal without the reveal??’”

“‘That was so intentional. You leaned in.’”

I laugh again, sipping my drink this time. “They be clocking everything, huh?”

T finally snaps out of it a little more, cheeks red but smiling like she can’t help it. “They really do. I didn’t even notice you leaned in until they said it.”

Court eyes me over her drink. “So you just gonna talk to the stream like a mystery guest? This your soft-launch era or something?”

“Something like that,” I say, shrugging.

T leans into the camera a little more, finally engaging again. “She’s not gonna say her name. Y’all can speculate all you want.”

Court grins. “They gonna have a field day with this on TikTok.”

“Let them,” I say, popping a fry in my mouth. “They already knew what it was anyway.”

The stream goes on like that — a weird mix of normal chaos and buzzing curiosity from the fans. I stay off-camera, tossing in little comments here and there, usually to tease Court or call out T for being too slow to eat.

The chat never stops. Every other line is a guess, or a theory. 

T’s still blushing a little, but she’s smiling, and every once in a while, she glances offscreen at me like she’s not used to this — like it’s strange, but good.

And even though I still hate being in the spotlight, there’s something warm about being here like this. Still anonymous. Still mine. But not hidden.

I could get used to this whole private but not secret thing. 

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