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jack-kellys · 10 months

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so i am gonna talk abt the delanceys. and i don’t want that to make you scroll away at the speed of light. i want to talk about them in a broader sense, view them in a broader sense, in the way that we talk about jack and his existential need to leave where he is for the west- and, further, going into analysis, like how “the west” in america in the 1890s is a capitalist venture that is sold to jack as this idea of a new home, a better way to live, something that he needs, when the real home is new york with his chosen family and where no one needs to call him “son”.

i think what matters most in the world of the delanceys, and what puts them into a nuanced political stance as well as a personal one, is their father, the striking trolley worker.

i think it’s fair to assume that as a striking worker demanding better wages, as a union member, he deserves those wages. it’s good that he’s striking, that he’s demanding what he’s owed and doing so with his fellow workers. strikers are the right people to support especially based on the historical context of the trolley strike.

but this guy is… an asshole. he dumped these two children into the refuge and left them there to rot, presumably. there’s a possibility he didn’t know about how abusive snyder is, sure, but he knew it was a detention center and that’s not… where u put ur kids when u care abt them lmao.

so this man is a striking trolley worker who doesn’t give a shit about his own children. he’s an underpaid union member who deserves his dues but also lets his two sons suffer for years alone in a children’s jail. he fights the system to his benefit while submitting his two kids into a different one. the dichotomy is important here- it’s essential to the foil the delanceys are for the newsies.

the delanceys are strike breakers. strike breakers are, obviously, paid under the table to disperse union-led strikes and protests to uphold a system that benefits the rich- who of course will always benefit from underpaid work. the delanceys take money from this upheld system when they get the opportunity and beat strikers bloody who don't get to benefit from this system like they do. because they do benefit from that elitist system, since they are choosing to make money off of it outside of their usual job. right.

but within those strikers is their father. the father who left them to rot, who let wiesel scrape them out of that jail and enlist them at a dead-end newspaper gig. so the brothers hate this father, this striker, this piece of family. and this father is making all this noise with these other people- these people who support their father as his coworkers and fellow union members, and the delancey brothers' leave that strike with their fists red with more blood than solely their father's, since they're angry and good at it and the money is hefty.

and their childhood is semi-revenged, but at what ethical cost? they've served broken bones to plenty of workers just trying to fight for their fair pay- something that the delanceys can relate to, by the way, since it isn't like their wages are too stellar for how many hours they're forced to put in. but they put down these people--innocent sans their father--because they have the opportunity. opportunity for them is bringing others down, and when they have the choice, they take it. gladly. "it's honest work" is shrugged off and believed. "i take care of the guy who takes care of me" is snide. uk costuming has them wearing nicer work coats over their newsie-like attire, concealing their similarities and choosing to align themselves more with the elite, since that's...the only protection they can turn to besides each other. the elite gets them extra pay, and keeps them one rung above the newsies to sneer down at them from. they fight via using the system, since systems are all they've ever been apart of, and when they see one that might benefit them for once, they latch onto it.

and, of course, they're strike breaking again, with adult men and their uncle at their side, against their personal foils- the newsies.

the newsies either don't have family like the delanceys, or frequently have to be apart from theirs. lots of them don't have a sibling they can return to daily, or any at all. most don't have parents or family members. or homes to go back to after work. the system they are stuck in is one that does not work for them unless they make it work, making their own numbers and cash by gambling how many papers they can sell in a day to earn every cent back and then some. creating a system within a system--whereas the delanceys mold themselves into one that exists, again, to the elite's benefit--to survive.

and then, the newsies and their chosen family of brothers choose to revolt against their system in an attempt to dismantle it, or at the very least negotiate it.

and the delanceys' reaction to this, to another strike, to a group of kids going against their system (of which would benefit oscar and morris to join, tbh, unless they don't classify as "working kids" of the city, perhaps putting them at around 18 years old...)?

disdain and more snide comments! "not that i'm complaining, my skull busting arm could use a day of rest" "you working, or trespassing?/what's your pleasure?" and putting pressure on scabs to keep with the system- specifically more with uksies, oscar and morris are sort of dusting tommy boy off and whispering to him. trying to split apart the family the newsies have made with each other. and then ofc they beat the actual shit out of the newsies and in uk they have bats they are full on swinging, whole shoulder into it. you did not uphold this system, and it will destroy you for it.

and it nearly does, because then jack scabs, right? and oscar and morris are in pulitzer's office as the man talks jack through the deal, through the cash. as he must've to oscar and morris earlier that week about strike breaking the newsies. and all three of them all have these nearly matching bruises and cuts on their faces.

and then all three of them go to the cellar, the lowest floor of the elite. together the three of them are in this location with this context. two strikebreakers and a scab. taking the elite's money for their benefit, be it in a moment of fear, resignation, or greed. all the oldest kids in the play, the three who've seen the scars and rips and tears in this world more than any of the others. and for like twenty seconds of stage time jack oscar and morris are the same brand. until of course oscar and morris punch into jack's gut--since they're only "given discretion to handle him as they see fit" if he misbehaves, which jack hasn't, so they punch where people won't see/check--and remind him that he's still below them (literally shoving him to the floor ofc), that they're still closer to the elite.

and yeah, they are, because later, jack again refuses the system, and tosses the money back on the table after rebelling against his terms. in true foil fashion, once jack recognizes that his actions align that which he needs to destroy, he renounces them, while the delanceys remain on the other side of the coin they share with jack.

the delanceys, as a storytelling device, right, are meant to represent what the newsies could fall to, seen with the three initial scabs and then jack in act ii. they are this constant threat of sort of equal size to the newsies through the whole show, always kinda lurking. always being a possibility to become if the newsies ever forget what they fight for and against.

also, jack is....kind of.... like their dad, in their perspective. he's parental with the newsies, he leads them, guides them, and protects them, as well as constantly getting the better of the delanceys. why should someone like a father get to fight the system again? not on their fucking watch.

i think it's pretty clear that oscar and morris are meant to represent corruption on the small scale, thematically, while pulitzer is corruption at the top- since it all trickles down. and i think it's really important that this motif is consistently upheld within the brothers, since it sort of alters the message of the show to at least drastically change that abt them. they are the nearest branch of corruption to the newsies guys. that is so fucking cool

#see guys it's possible to talk abt these guys without centering discourse i believe in u #the delancey brothers #morris delancey #oscar delancey #delanceys #newsies #analysis #fizz freaks #fizz writes #jack kelly #🥳🎈🎁#lmaooo #anyway iiiiii. have these guys in a petri dish under a microscope. gathering the facts and making hypotheses #reaching conclusions #long post

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sparkedblaze · 11 months

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ok so that being part of ur au

medda checking in on them when she can

following their accounts terrified to reach out again

she wants these boys to know that she is so so so very sorry for the way it happened

the heartbreak every time she sees the aftermath of a fight bc even though they arent hers anymore they still are

you never stop being meddas kid

👏🏼YOU👏🏼NEVER👏🏼STOP👏🏼BEING👏🏼MEDDA’S👏🏼KID👏🏼

@noxexistant I DIDNT THINK IT COULD GET WORSE 😭😭😭

Currently making myself cry with this

I will say, I’m gonna have to slightly edit my original expansion bc in my au Racer was adopted first (its a joke that he says he’s the oldest bc he was the first adopted, but he’s several years younger than Jack and Charlie (NOT CASEY 😤))

•

When Oscar first sees that she’s following them he almost just blocks her. Pretends that she doesn’t exist like he does most of the rest of the people from their past.

And then Morris burst into the room, chirping about Mama Medda (Oscar will never understand why he still calls her that) following them. He wants to say hi. Wants to meet up with her. He misses her cooking and her kind words.

Oscar doesn’t want to. She never did them any favors. She abandoned them. Put them back in a system that didn’t care about them. She didn’t care about them. She proved that already.

He puts it off as long as possible, but with the way Morris looks at his phone every time they get a notification from Medda (be it a like, or a comment, or a retweet), he can’t hold off forever.

Oscar DMs her on Twitter. Nothing but his phone number, but Medda is elated when she sees it. She’s instantly calling him with a flurry of questions. ‘How are you’s and ‘How is Morris’s.

And the first thing he tells her is that she don’t mean nothing to him. She’s heartbroken at the statement, wonders why he wanted to reconnect in the first place if that was true.

“But Mo wants to have lunch.”

And that explains everything. It isn’t Oscar reaching out to her. It’s Morris, who doesn’t know how to do it himself, but was always excited for suppertime because Medda would accommodate him any way she could. Morris, who would cry and hide with Oscar when she had to wash his favorite blanket, until it came back to him warm, and fresh out the dryer. Morris, who insisted on calling her Mama Medda when she asked him not to call her ‘Miss Medda’.

She agrees immediately, asking when and where. They plan to meet a week out, so Morris has enough time to prepare for the change in schedule.

As soon as she’s in the little restaurant, Medda can hear the excited kicks against the bottom of the booth. She can hear the little chirps coming from the corner.

She knows what she’ll see, even before the two are in sight. Morris, rocking, trying to contain his excitement (the way he always did in public because of some of the homes they’d been in before hers), and Oscar, stone faced and glaring.

She meets his glare with a smile, sitting across from them. Oscar sat on the outside of their side of the booth, back to the wall, eyes roaming their surroundings. Looking for threats. Always searching for danger.

Morris is the first to speak, rapidly firing questions and statements at her-anything that comes to mind, really. ‘We fight for a livin now’ she knows. ‘Jack gots a guy’ she knows that too. ‘Didja see our fight yestaday?’ She had. ‘Why we hadta leave?’ She didn’t know if she could explain it, even if he gave her long enough to answer.

Their lunch went on like that. Medda and Morris talking, Oscar ordering for both brothers before going back to leveling his glare at Medda, and Medda trying to follow Morris’s thought process as every track seemed to lead back to the question ‘why did we have to leave?’

She tries to explain it. Tells him that they and Jack posed a threat to each other. Oscar gets angrier at this. He slams his hand against the table (making Morris jump) and all but shouts about how they were there first. How they deserved to stay there. And the pity in her eyes as she looks at them only makes him angrier. She tells him that she knows they deserved to be there. But so did Jack. And at least Oscar and Morris had each other. Denton had tried to pull just Oscar, but she wasn’t going to separate the brothers. Not with the bond they shared. Not with everything they’d been through.

Jack had had no one.

And, she told them, it had been the hardest decision of her life.

#anon asks #thanks anon!#newsies #livesies #92sies #delanceys #the delancey brothers #morris delancey #oscar delancey #medda larkin #medda larkson #jack kelly #newsies modern au #Medda adopts

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jilllovesmike · 9 days

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For those of you that never had the privilege to see Mike Faist in Newsies. This is a snip of Mike covering Jeremy Jordan. Mike is playing Jack Kelly and singing Santa Fe.

I get chills every time I hear it.

#mike faist #newsies cast #newsies #morris delancey #jack kelly #broadway #broadway musicals #challengers 2024 #challengers #challengers movie #Mike faist as Jack Kelly #santa fe

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newsiesnoldsies · 10 days

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okay imagine this

*smacks printing press*

"now that there is fir-"

*the printing press collapses*

#newsies #the delancey brothers #jack kelly #newsies broadway #newsies musical #newsies the musical

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broadwaytwitter · 2 months

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#newsies #newsies memes #livesies #newsies broadway #jack kelly #davey jacobs #spot conlon #albert dasilva #jojo de la guerra #racetrack higgins #sprace #oscar delancey #sorry i had to include him #favorite bastard boy

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buttonsfleas · 2 months

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Newsies cast are literally a mood *part 2*

#newsies #livesies #newsies fandom #racetrack higgins #oscar delancey #andrew keenan bolger #buttons davenport #anthony norman #crutchie morris #chaz wolcott #hannah miles #meredith inglesby #ben cook #spot conlon #tommy bracco #most of these are when i have geography WHICH IS TOMORROW and my teacher is the worst 😭#i have him nearly every day this week 😭#and ik geography is important BUT WE CAN JUST USE GOOGLE AND HE COULD JUST TEACH US WHAT SOME STUFF MEANS #its not like anyone in my area is gonna be able to go to hawaii anyways

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crystallizedtwilight · 9 months

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may we have some more tiny Morris and Oscar to break our hearts? 😭🙏 /nf

same dream.

#the delancey brothers #newsies #MyArt

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wesperrys · 2 months

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MIKE FAIST THE PEOPLE'S PRINCE

#mike faist #challengers #newsies #west side story 2021 #panic #dodge mason #art donaldson #morris delancey

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jesuistrestriste · 9 months

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You’re Such a Loser pt. 2

nsfw fic ! 18+

part twoo (part one) !! i hope that those who liked pt. one will like this part just as much :) it’s a lil bit of a switch in dynamic (pun not intended)

content warnings: switch(dom)!art donaldson, switch(sub)!reader, reader guiding art through domming, begging, brief choking, slight hate fucking themes, orgasm denial, slight bit of tears/crying (he’s okay), oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, praise, degradation, creampie.

all that frustration from losing his matches has built up in him, and now Art is ready to let it all out. only because you’re letting him, of course.

word count - 2.9k

✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩

He’s diving back into your cunt without hesitation, lapping at the remnants of your orgasm that have spilled and sprayed down your inner thighs. His arms are hooking under your legs so that he can bury his tongue deeper and deeper into you.

You groan deeply, running your fingers through his hair before pulling the locks taut in your fist.

“Yes, baby, just like that.. your mouth always feels so damn good,” you breathe out, moaning at his expert tongue skills.

As you gaze down at him, you can see the way that his eyes are squeezing shut and his brows are turned up in arousal as he licks at your insides. He lets out a pathetic whimper at your words of praise, which shoots a mouthful of vibrations up through your form. Your knees tremble, clamping down on his flushed cheeks, and you use your grip on his hair to guide him gently up to your clit. He takes notice of your cue, and moves his mouth up to suck your sensitive bundle of nerves. You gasp brokenly and toss your head back, before looking down again to see his face.. and god, he is beautiful. His brows are still knitted up, but now his big aquamarine eyes are watery and looking up at you like a lost puppy. He was all yours. Just yours, and he knew it too -- in fact, he loved it.

“That’s it, sweetheart, doing so--mmf!--so well,” you moan out, using your hand to now stroke at the back of his head and give him a bit more physical stimulation. His eyes flutter closed at the feeling of your fingers brushing against his scalp, and out of habit he reaches up with one of his free hands and uses his middle and ring finger to brush against your dripping hole. Immediately, you wince at the contact, and he lets out a drawn out groan that you can tell is an incoherent plea for permission. You nod.

He wastes no time in turning his wrist so that his hand is palm-side up, and then his fingers are gliding into you without any resistance whatsoever. Your body is absolutely starved for him at this point, and you can’t do a thing to hide it. As he feels your insides wrap warmly around his digits, his eyes prick with tears while he continues to mouth at your clit.

He brings his head back, detaching his mouth from your body, and moves to look longingly at the way your fingers are sucking him in every time he pulls them back. Your slick is covering his chin and his lips, which are currently parted in arousal as he huffs and puffs from desperation. He continues to pump his fingers in and out of you, relishing in the way that he can feel you clench and twitch.

“You’re so hot,” he whispers, not breaking eye contact with the point of connection between your body and his. He then decides to bury his two fingers so deep inside of you that they actually completely disappear. Next thing you know, he’s curling his fingers repeatedly in the “come hither” motion while he’s still buried up to the hilt. About thirty seconds of this is all it takes for you to get there.

“SHIT-! Oh my god, Art, don’t fucking stop, don’t stop, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, I’m g’na-”

You manage to moan out a quick warning before your hips are arching into his touch, going completely still for a few moments. Then, wave after wave of your orgasm washes over you, causing your pelvis to spasm rapidly as you babble incoherent phrases of praise to your partner.

Art’s mouth is now completely agape, his eyes lidded, as he takes in the show of your orgasm, not stopping the movements of his fingers. You couldn’t really tell over the sound of your own vocality, but he was letting out tiny whines and whimpers from the way that your body was making his cock leak pathetically in his already-soiled boxers. He could barely hold his second orgasm off.. it was so damn hard.

After you collapse fully on the bed in an attempt to recover in your afterglow, sticky with sweat and panting heavily, you are now able to fully hear Art’s pure and unfiltered anguish. He’s moaning lowly as he glances from your cunt down to his clothed cock, which is jumping over and over in his underwear -- begging for attention. He then moves to pull his wet fingers from inside of your pussy, which allows for a few drops of viscous wetness to spill from your hole. Without hesitation, he lurches forward with his pretty tongue sitting gently on top of his bottom lip so that he can gulp down the taste of your release. He sucks and licks greedily at your hole, letting his eyes flutter closed as he grips his own thighs. He doesn’t want to touch himself yet. After all, you never gave him permission.

“You’re such a good boy, baby.. so needy and hungry for me, aren’t you?”

He nods quickly but shakily, his nose brushing against your clit as his mouth continues to relentlessly engulf your heat.

“You want me to let you cum?” you ask, knowing from his track record that he’s probably already on the edge.

He pulls back, licking at his bottom lip to not waste any of your taste, before he removes his hands from gripping his legs and instead places them to your waist. He digs his fingers into your soft flesh as he looks up at you from his position on the floor.

“Please, please, I’m already there-- just tell me I can and I will! I promise,” he gasps out, drawing out the second half of ‘promise’ to emphasize his sheer closeness. His brows are still turned up as tears start to well in his eyes. He’d cry if you said no, you knew that. The real question was: did you want to keep punishing him tonight? Had he had enough?

“Tell me how bad you want it, love.”

You could stand to be cruel a little bit longer.

He whines, his fingers clenching around the skin of your hips, as his pelvis continues to buck involuntarily.

“I want it so badly- I wanna cum- I’m so close, please please please.. I don’t know if I can stop it,” he moans, the slight friction of his cock against his wet boxers pushing him closer and closer to the point of no return.

“What if I said no?”

“Nooo, god, please don’t.. I’ve already made you cum.. I could prob’ly cum just from you telling me that I can.. can I? Oh shit, please-”

“I’ll tell you what: I’ll let you cum if you can take control for once.”

He looks at you, confused, before trying to stave off his orgasm by biting down on your thigh as he lets out a broken whimper. You yelp, before stroking his hair, knowing that he was deep in an animalistic state of mind -- he didn’t mean to hurt you, he just was trying so hard to be good.

“Use your words, Art.”

He releases you from between his teeth, before tears are spilling down his cheeks.

“I,” he sobs, “I can try.. but you know that I’m not like that..”

“I know, baby, I know. I want to teach you. Would you like to try that?”

He nods. He’d do anything to cum at this point.

You use your hands to push yourself farther back onto the bed so that your head is now close to the headboard. Art watches your every move, but stays as still as he can. He still wanted to please you, and didn’t want to do anything without your say-so. This was going to have to change within the next ten minutes.

You pat the bed’s comforter, and he immediately crawls up onto the bed and hovers over your form. His breathing remains uneven as his cheeks continue to flush with the torment of his delayed release. The erection in his boxers is still as stiff as ever, and you eye the way that it visibly jumps with anticipation.

One of your hands reaches up to comfortingly caress his face, and he leans into your touch.

“Breathe, honey, breathe. You’ll get what you want soon.”

He sighs, which almost turns into a moan, but he cuts himself off as you start to give instruction.

“Okay, first I want you to take off my top and bra. Undress me, understand?”

“Yeah,” he responds breathlessly, moving to pull your shirt over your head and unclasp your bra in under a minute. You were now completely naked, and he allowed himself the pleasure of drinking in the sight of your uncovered body. You were so gorgeous, it made his dick twitch.

“Good. Now, take off your boxers and shirt. I wanna see you,” you couldn’t help staying in a dominant headspace for a few seconds more.. it was just so fun to boss him around. He was so quick to follow directions, too.

He unsurprisingly does as he’s told, swiftly removing his gray tee and pulling down his boxers. At the sight of his bare cock, you bite your lower lip and place a hand on the back of his neck to guide him down to meet your mouth. You kiss him deeply, letting your own tongue lick his as he reciprocates with equal ferocity. He’s mashing his lips with yours, moaning into your open mouth when you pull back to switch the angle of your head. You bite down on his bottom lip before sucking it, which causes him to groan deep in his chest. Your hands snake to his lower back and you pull him down in one swift motion so that his body is now pressed flushed to yours as you continue to make out. A few more moments of this go by before Art knows that he has to speak up..

“I th-think I’m gonna c-cum,” he stutters, rubbing his hard cock against your lower stomach, “I can’t hold it, I cannn’t-!”

You reach down quickly and grasp his dick, which makes his eyes roll back into his low lids, and then you’re sliding it inside of your tight hole without warning.

“Nnghh-! I’m--fuck!” he sobs out, immediately spilling a thick, warm load inside of you. You let him thrust shallowly into you as he pumps you full of cum.

“Ah hah hah haah-!” he cries as he overstimulates his cock by continuing to fuck himself through his long-awaited orgasm.

As you watch his face with a smile and feel his throbbing dick inside of you, Art suddenly pushes himself up onto his hands so that he’s looking down at you. He’s gasping for more air but his brows are sitting low on his face and he looks weirdly upset.

You reach a hand up to his face, but he grabs your wrist with one hand and shakes his head without breaking eye contact with you.

“Don’t,” he breathes out, before beginning to thrust his spent cock more forcefully inside of you. Was he pissed that you had initially denied him..?

“Wha-”

“Don’t say anything, please,” he cuts you off, “just let me fuck you some more..”

You close your mouth, feeling a new kind of heat swirl in your gut. There was something about his tone that was new for him.. there was a bit of authority in it. Art hangs his head as he groans, pulling his cock all the way out to the tip before slamming it back into you. The wind feels like it just got knocked completely out of your lungs, and you squirm on the sheets.

“You feel so good.. f-fuck, I’m already hard again,” he moans, a growl beginning to creep up his throat.

A moan escapes your lungs as you let your head fall back into the plush pillow, and then before you can fully comprehend what he’s doing, his hand is over your mouth. His elbow is resting by your neck as his palm covers the lower half of your face and muffles your sounds.

“I said to be quiet,” he says gruffly, now speeding up the movements of his hips. They snap back and forth with a renewed sense of fervor, filling you up with his heavy cock with every thrust inside of you. You moan, although muffled, and you can tell that your stifled sounds were driving him crazy.

“You did a lot of talking tonight, babe, now let me say something--”

You drool under his hand, your mouth open and panting, as you try to focus on his words,

“I don’t get why you called me a loser when you’re my coach.. my loss is your loss- shit!”

The tip of his cock hits your cervix as you clench around him, causing him to briefly lose his train of thought. He finds it quicker than you thought he would, though.

“So that means that you’re a loser too, aren’t you?” he spits out with gritted teeth, leaning down close to your face and looking deep into your eyes. You compulsively whimper and buck your hips up to meet his.

“Use your words, baby,” he mocks you from earlier, anger laced potently in his command.

He knows that you can’t talk coherently right now, and it’s not his hand that’s stopping you. He knows damn well that if he removed his hand from your mouth, you’d still be a slurring mess of moans and pleas for more beneath him. His cock was fucking you so well, and it was hitting all of the right places at all of the right times. You weren’t sure you were going to last much longer, and neither was he to be honest..

Before, he was in the mindset of a defeated, washed-up tennis champ, but now he was taking on the same persona that he did when he was in his prime. When he won back-to-back matches. He was a fucking beast.

“Mmmph-! Mm-!” your moans rolled around in your chest and were muffled by Art’s large palm as he continued to fuck mercilessly into you. You felt the cord in your gut being pulled taut.. ready to snap at any moment..

Suddenly, he pulls his hand from your mouth and groans, bringing it up to his mouth as he licks depravedly at your drool left behind on his skin. You whimper at the sight, and he follows it up with a similar vocalization before speaking down to you.

“You taste so good, baby, fuck fuck...” he pants, the movements of his hips becoming sloppier by the second.

he places his wet palm down across the center of your collarbones, and you groan lowly at the feeling, before you take his wrist and manually move his hand up to the base of your throat.

“please,” you whimpered.

and he readily obliged.

Art squeezes gently at the sides of your throat, stifling the blood flow to your brain and initiating the spread of a pleasant fuzziness throughout your body and head that made your impending orgasm feel that-much-more intense.

“you like that? you like when i choke you, baby..?” he moans, clearly enjoying the switch in dynamic as much as you were.

you nod immediately, trying to take in more oxygen as his fingers pressed deliberately against your pulse. then, he released you from his grasp like a lion drops a gazelle from its mouth before feasting upon it.

you take a huge, broken breath into your lungs before everything begins to feel like it’s getting too much .. everything feels too good right now..

“Honeyimgonna-mffphh!-imgonnacumpleaseohmygod” you couldn’t stop the slurry of nonsensical pleas and whines as you felt your orgasm getting ready to wash over you.

“I’m gonna give it to you so good.. i wanna fill you up.. you’d be nowhere without me, let’s face it.. if i didn’t win any matches we’d have no income.. so i’m not a goddamn loser.. i’m not.. i’m.. i..”

Art was becoming more and more incomprehensible the closer he got, and then he felt everything crash down around him once your orgasm started to rip through you and pulse around him.

“OH GOD! HOLY SH- OH FFFUCK! I’M CUMMING I’M CUMMING!” he shouts, unable to hold anything back as he fills you up again.

You feel the warmth and tingly pressure of his release spread throughout your cunt as you cum on his throbbing cock, your eyes rolling as your head tips back against the bed. You whimper and groan as you take in the feeling of your second orgasm of the night, and relish in the heat and aftermath of your partner’s third one.

After you both come down slightly from your highs, Art collapses in a sticky, sweaty mess on top of you as his chest heaves against yours. You close your eyes, smiling, as your hands move to rub lovingly at his lower back. As his head rests heavily in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent, he slowly pulls his hips back and you whimper as the feeling of emptiness starts to rush through you in the absence of his length.

You could feel his cum oozing down your pussy, and you laughed softly at the sudden realization of the reality of your situation.

“You know,” you huffed, still trying to catch your breath, “i think you just came inside of me.”

he laughs.

“i don’t think i could have stopped that from happening..” he smirks, rubbing his soft but sensitive cockhead against the inner part of your right thigh.

“right, right.. all i’m saying is that you better not get me pregnant. you’re already a handful as it is.”

“You love it,” he whispers, picking up his head slightly to bite at your neck.

“Whatever you say, loser.”

✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩

guys, this took so long to finally finish up and that’s on me lmaoo

writer’s block had me in a firm chokehold n i didn’t like it

i feel like i ended this fic a bit quickly, but i think that can mostly be chalked up to sleep deprivation.

anyways, hope this quenched ur mike faist thirst for the moment, but i have more ideas that i want to write about asap.. so there’s definitely some more hot stuff coming soon hehe

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