#and if I don't get it I'm going to be pissed

[ariestrxsh]

bsf!chris x taken!bsf!reader

✧˚ · .⭒ content warning: smut, size kink, mentions of toxic relationship, praise, dirty talk, cheating, almost getting caught, oral (f!receiving), pussy slapping, fingering, car sex

✧˚ · .⭒ summary: chris consoles you after another fight with your shitty boyfriend

gif by @/alesturniolos

dividers by @/strangergraphics

album marathon concept creds to @/delilahsturniolo and inspo by @/y2kstarr and her hot pink marathon

inspo from this tiktok and from this fic by @/darksturnz

[ click to return to track list ]

Ain't Shit

After your piss poor excuse of a boyfriend left you in tears, you asked your best friend, Chris, to come pick you up from his house in the middle of the night. Minutes later, his headlights were illuminating Jake's street on his way to come rescue you.

You were standing on the pavement with mascara streaking down your cheeks and your hair freshly done when Chris saw you beneath the glow of the streetlight. He looked like he'd just rolled out of bed when he rolled up, his messy brown hair poking out of his grey hoodie and his tired, blue eyes glassy and bloodshot.

He took you out for a burger and a milkshake despite the late hour and the fact that there was only a restaurant open in town. He made you laugh and temporarily forget about your relationship that was in shambles.

Chris was used to this.

He was always consoling you any time you and Jake had a fight, letting you cry on his shoulder and vent to him. He never minded it. He always just listened to you and kept the majority of his thoughts to himself, cracking a few jokes here and there to make you smile.

However, he'd finally had enough of your shitty boyfriend and the way he treated you, and he was finally ready to do something about it.

"Why the hell are you still with him?" He asked kind of gruffly from beside you in the front seat of his car. He tilted your chin towards him, wiping away a tear as it rolled down your cheek. "Seriously. Enlighten me."

"I don't know. I just..." Your voice trailed off. You sniffled, nuzzling into his chest. "I guess the sex is really good," you admitted, laughing.

"Oh, come on. You could get good sex anywhere," Chris told you, reaching up to stroke your hair. "Sorry to break it to you, sweetheart, but your man ain't shit."

"Chris, you don't get it. You're not a girl," you replied, looking up at him and rolling your eyes.

"What don't I get?" He asked, his eyes fixed on your lips. "He's always making you cry. It just breaks my heart to see you like this. You're telling me you put up with him because he's got a big dick?"

"Well, it's not just that. He's tall, and he's handsome.." You started off, trying to find other redeeming qualities that weren't just physical.

"Well, I'm taller, more handsome, and probably have a bigger dick than him, so what then?" He interrupted, wetting his lips as he looked at you hungrily. Your eyebrows flew up as you studied Chris' face, waiting for him to laugh or crack a joke, but there was a sincerity in his voice.

"What?" You laughed, looking at him dumbfounded.

"C'mon. Here. Let's make a deal. If I can make you feel better than your boyfriend can, you have to leave him," Chris said in a low voice, placing a hand on your thigh and drawing circles on your flesh.

"Chris.." you said as if you were going to stop him, but you tightened your grasp around his arm, squeezing your thighs together at his words.

Somehow, you found yourself in nothing but your lace bra and matching panties in the backseat of Chris' car. You were sprawled out on the leather, laying on your back, and he was nestled between your legs, tugging the flimsy black lace to the side.

"We shouldn't be doing this," you whispered, but the lust in your voice betrayed you. Chris' hot breath ghosted over your heat as he chuckled, sending excited shivers down your spine.

"Yeah? Why? Because I might actually make you cum harder than your boyfriend can?" Chris smirked up at you from between your legs, his blue eyes burning through you with desire.

He placed his thumb on your clit and started moving it in slow, deliberate circles, teasing you and eliciting a soft moan from you. You reached down and tightly gripped his wrist, but you didn't stop him.

"What would your boyfriend think if he knew you were drooling like this on my leather seats right now?" Chris purred, his erection pinned beneath him. "Bet he'd regret making you cry and leaving this sweet pussy all alone with me."

His words made your stomach twist and turn with need. You whined, squirming around as he played with you, his fingers sending waves of arousal through you while they explored your folds.

Suddenly, Chris was replacing his fingers with his mouth, his cheek gently brushing against the inside of your soft, plush thigh. His fluttering tongue grazed your folds, making you gasp.

The sound of your vibrating phone broke you out of your trance. You reached for it off of the floor of Chris' car. "It's him," you whispered, glancing down at Chris after you read Jake's name on your screen. Your heart and mind raced.

"Answer it," Chris encouraged you, pulling back for a moment. You picked up, holding the phone up to your ear with a shaky hand.

"Hello?" You answered.

"Where are you?" His voice came through the phone sharply. You were just about to answer when you felt Chris' lips latch onto your clit, your breath catching in your throat. "Hello? Where the fuck are you?" He repeated more angrily this time.

"I'm with Chris," you answered, biting down on your lip after to conceal a moan. Your free hand flew down, and you threaded your fingers through his soft, brown hair.

"You're still with him? He picked you up like an hour ago," your boyfriend huffed, a hint of jealousy and suspicion in his voice. "What's taking so long?"

"He's taking me home right now," you lied, peering down at the blue-eyed boy.

Chris created a bit of suction, closing his lips down around your clit and suckling as he watched you to try maintain your composure. Your heart was thrumming away in your ears as Chris worked his mouth on your heat.

"He better keep his hands off you," your boyfriend barked into the phone. Too late. You tipped your head back, your eyes rolling back into your head as Chris started flicking his tongue over your sensitive bud.

"What? He's just a friend..." you told him, your voice trailing off as you bit down on your lip again to hold back a moan.

"Sh, sh, sh," Chris hushed you, his warm breath ghosting over your quivering cunt.

"I see the way he looks at you," Jake sneered.

You gazed back down at the boy between your legs whose hungry eyes were devouring you. "He looks like that at everyone," you replied, not even believing your own words as they came out of your mouth.

"Come on, I'm not stupid."

Debatable, you thought to yourself.

You closed your thighs down around Chris' ears as he slurped up your juices, your whole body shaking in response. You released his messy, brown hair from your firm grasp and clamped your hand down around your mouth to keep yourself from moaning his name.

"Are you there?" Jake wondered on the other end of the phone.

"Y-yeah, I'm here," you responded, clearing your throat.

Chris withdrew his mouth from your heat for a moment with a smug look on his face. He flattened his hand and started slapping your pussy, his palm hitting your clit over and over, sending a jolt of electricity through you. Your breath stuttered at the sensation.

"Don't you run," Chris rasped from between your thighs, gripping your hips and pulling you closer as you writhed under his rough touch.

"Something's up. I can tell," Jake accused you. Chris held a finger up to his lips, quieting you.

"Listen I'm kind of tired. Can we talk about this in the morn-?" Just as you were finishing your sentence, Chris slipped a finger into your sopping cunt, making you gasp loudly.

"What? Are you okay? Why'd you make that sound?" Your boyfriend asked.

You took a deep breath before answering. "A deer ran out in front of us. We're fine," you replied, the lie rolling off your tongue with ease.

Chris chuckled from between your legs, his fingers and tongue working faster. Your chest was moving rhythmically with your breath, trying desperately to keep the sounds to a minimum so your boyfriend wouldn't know how close you were to falling apart on your best friend's face.

"When are you going to be home?" Jake wondered.

"I'm almost there..." you said in a breathy voice, your gaze locked onto Chris'.

Your boyfriend started apologizing to you, like he always did, saying he was going to change, but he never did. You'd heard it a million times before. Even if it weren't for the fact that your gorgeous best friend was buried between your thighs, you'd be tuning him out at this point.

Chris sped up the flicker of his tongue, adding another finger to your drooling hole. You couldn't take it anymore. You pulled the phone away from your ear and hit the mute button just in time.

"Chris!" The moans you'd been holding back were ripped from you. You squeezed your eyes shut, your toes curling and your back arching off of the leather beneath you. You trembled under the stroke of his tongue and the thrust of his fingers.

As your unsuspecting boyfriend's apologies spilled into the space around you, so did the wet sounds of Chris finger-fucking you and lapping up your fluids. The pleasure was so overwhelming that for a moment, all you could hear was the sound of your heart pumping blood and adrenaline to every extremity and the ringing in your ears as your whole body tightened and released.

"Hello? Are you there?" You heard Jake's voice again once the rush subsided. You unmuted yourself.

"Hey, sorry. We drove through a dead zone," you lied, clearing your throat again. "Call me tomorrow, okay?" You told him before quickly hanging up.

Your phone fell out of your hand and onto the floor of Chris' car as Chris roughly flipped you onto your stomach. "I'm not fuckin' done with you." You heard his voice in your ear as he held your body close, pressing his hard cock against your ass.

"Poor Jake," Chris clicked his tongue, his voice laced with faux sympathy. "Has no idea he's already lost his girlfriend." You heard Chris slowly unzip his jeans. Before you had time to even catch your breath, his thick, swollen tip was prodding at your entrance. He pushed it in with a primal grunt, and your eyes widened, and jaw dropped as you felt him stretch you.

He was bigger than Jake.

He slowly dragged his length out of you and pushed it in again with a brute force, earning a loud moan from you. You could tell by the way his tip rutted into your pleasure spot that you didn't stand a chance.

"It's so big," you whimpered in between pants, earning a chuckle from him. He picked up the pace, his thick cock pounding into you from behind over and over.

You heard the vibration of your phone, nestled in your mess of clothes that were strewn on the floor of the backseat. Jake's name continuously lit up your screen as he called you again and again. You ignored it, too lost in pleasure to try to hide it from him a second time.

You grasped for something to hold onto, clawing at the leather seats as Chris bottomed out in you.

"What'd I tell you, hmm?" Chris cooed. "Clenching me so hard you can barely hang on. Wonder what your boyfriend would think of that." You tried to form a sentence, but his cock had you at a loss for words.

The whole car rocked with the motion of his hips, and the windows started to fog up with the condensation of your ragged breaths. Chris' hands tightly gripped your waist as he pistoned into you.

Your second orgasm was brewing.

You couldn't speak. You couldn't think.

All you heard was Chris' hips slamming into your ass complimented by the soft buzz of your phone that was still going off and the loud, desperate moans he was coaxing from you that you didn't even recognize as your own.

"That's it. Cum all over my cock. Good girl." Chris' voice sounded sweet and devilish at the same time. The sensation was overwhelming, pleasure bubbling over as you allowed it to take you.

It hit you like a tidal wave, crashing over you and sending ripples of pure satisfaction through every part of you. You shook beneath his relentless thrusts, feeling his cock throb inside of you as you pulsed around it.

You finished onto him, coating his length in your milky cum as you slumped over onto the leather. You could hear the sound of blood rushing in your ears again, a smile curling on your lips as you finally started to recover. Chris slowed his strokes, but he continued lazily fucking you.

"How was that, hmm? Your boyfriend ever make you cum that hard?"

"Nuh uh," you shook your head no, still trying to regulate yourself. He let out a dark, satisfied chuckle in response. He loved the idea of another man's girl creaming all over his cock, especially you.

"I'm just getting started, sweetheart. I told you your man ain't shit."

[nightingale-prompts]

I don't know why people think Danny would disagree with Batman on the no killing rule or why he'd be aligned with Jason on anything. Danny doesn't even believe in killing people who deserve it and even if he did he's a 14 year old boy. He believes in petty revenge of course but that's hardly the same as cutting people's heads off.

I feel like this fandom is more interested in voicing their own personal grievances with Bruce (though many of them don't read the comics) then writing Danny as the character he is. I'm not saying that I don't do that as well.

I just feel like sometimes people are writing Dan and not Danny. Danny at the end of the say is a average teenage boy. He's selfish sometimes but at the end of the day he's a good kid. He's not going to go on a murderous rampage on the Joker even preemptively especially if he has never met the guy before. (You guys know the fics im talking about. It's so common for Danny to see Danny met the Joker and immediately kill him just to gain Jason's attention or something) Danny hates clowns, I get it. But if seeing a clown is enough to make him lose touch with reality that's an awful portrayal of the character.

I don't think it's that big a deal at the end of the day to write fics like that. The problem is when fans start to think that's the default or that it's in Danny's character. At the end of the day I'd never write Danny killing someone. Not even the Joker because that's not his place. It's not his story. I'd never robe that from Jason or Bruce or anyone who has deep connections to that clown. Danny had his enemies and I'd be pissed to high hell if my worst enemy was killed by some guy I had never met. That would the most anticlimactic ending with no real resolution. No facing my demons up close or moral questioning. Boring. That worst part for me. It's boring. I've seen it a thousand times and it still just as boring as the first. It's not cleaver or insitful.

I miss when we talked about the layers of Danny. Now it's either "Danny is just a little gremlin who wants to make trouble." or "Danny is full of trauma and misery and he doesn't trust anybody." Its never "Danny is a complex character who isn't perfect and he can be a petty little shit sometimes. He loves his family and friends and is willing to extend the olive branch to those he sees as needing help even if they have hurt him."

The show was all about Danny growing into his hero role and helping others. He isn't a calluse vengeful monster. He can forgive. He can control himself. He is just a kid! He isn't VLAD! He isn't DAN!

[dollfacefantasy]

READ MY MIND ♡

pairing: frank castle x bratty!fem!reader

summary: frank and jealousy don't mix well together... you find that out the hard way.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, car sex, daddy kink, jealousy, drinking, meanie frank, brat taming, age gap (20s/40s, you know the drill)

a/n: ahh finally some more frank. reader is actually highkey dumb in this but that's ok. all my creations have a place in my heart 🫶 reblogs + comments are always appreciated <3

Frank had pissed you off a couple days ago. That was how this whole thing started.

Looking back now, you could admit it all was petty. He probably didn't deserve it, and you probably could have handled yourself better. But things like these built up. You could only nod your head and smile sweetly so many times before your well of grace ran dry.

You'd been getting ready for the day, coating your lashes in some mascara after shimmying on a black skirt. Frank lounged in your bed, one muscular arm behind his head as he attempted to rest away a rough night.

Through the mirror's reflection, you'd asked him what you thought to be a simple question. "Are you gonna be here on Friday night?"

But he answered with "Dunno. Gonna try to be."

Your glossy lips pursed together as irritation flared up inside. "Well... if you had to bet. Would you say you'll be here? Or not?" you tried again.

But still. "I don't know." This time he sounded a little annoyed himself. "Why? You got something planned?" he asked.

His tone only irked you more. Sure, maybe some would say you were overreacting, getting too upset over a tiny inconvenience, but you believed in your reasons. He'd been doing this more and more lately, and it was piling up. It wasn't so much his actual absence that bugged you — you knew he had his reasons. It was the dodged answers. Physical distance you could stomach. Emotional however? Not so much.

"No. I just like knowing where you are and what I'm gonna be doing," you said, words becoming clipped.

"You can't plan anything for yourself unless you know where I'll be?" he asked with a bit of sarcasm.

That earned him a harsh glare from you.

He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. "I'm not trying to piss you off, baby, but I don't know. That's just the way it is."

Gritting your teeth, you looked yourself over one more time in the mirror before mumbling "fine."

Without further argument, you went for your bag hanging off the back of the desk chair. You slid it over your shoulder and scanned briefly to make sure you had everything you needed. After that, you planned on just walking out, maybe huffing a goodbye if he was lucky. But before you could go, he spoke again.

Objectively, he'd said: "Little cold out to wear that skirt, ain't it?"

But your disgruntled ears interpreted that as: "That skirt's a little too short to wear, ain't it?"

"I have tights on," you said and shot him another glare.

He blinked at the sharp response. His confused face worked you up further, and you were more than ready to go at that point. Though as you turned to depart, he called to you.

"You forgettin' something?"

A rigid wave of frustration flowed through you, but you still turned around. You knew what he was referring to, of course. All but petulantly stomping back to the edge of the mattress, you made your way to him and then leaned down to press a sticky kiss to his cheek.

"Bye," you said with a faint, involuntary pout.

He reached up, cupping your jaw and squishing your cheeks like he did every time he watched you leave.

"Be safe," he said. His version of I love you.

You nodded like you always did, giving him one more peck before pulling back and actually heading out the door. While the kiss may have given the impression that your attitude had been handled, one thought echoed through your mind as you walked down your complex's stairwell.

If he thinks this is short, I'll show him short.

Over the course of the next few days, Frank never gave you any word on whether or not he'd be at the apartment on Friday night. The more you thought about it, the more it pissed you off.

You can't plan anything for yourself unless you know where I'll be?

You clenched your jaw every time that replayed through your mind.

He had some nerve. You basically lived at his beck and call. All your time together was based around his schedule. How you acted around him depended on his mood. Everything was him him him.

So tonight was gonna be about you. Well... also him. But he wouldn't come till later.

As the sun began to set outside, you proceeded with your plan. You shedded the old t-shirt and sweats you had on, fetching something more eye-catching from your closet. A skimpy little black dress. Your hands ran over the material and smoothed it out over your curves. Some shiny heels came next and then a fresh application of darker makeup. You made sure your hair was just how he liked it too.

It was in the middle of adding the final touches to your look that you heard the front door open and then close. Your heart skipped a beat. So he had ended up coming home... you hadn't planned on seeing him till you came back tonight.

A few seconds later he walked into the bedroom. He looked tired like he did a lot of the time. For a split second, you almost felt guilty about the petty show you were putting on. It crossed your mind that you could wipe the makeup off and swap your dress out for some pjs. You could get what you actually wanted all along and spend the night by his side.

But that would require a degree of humility you didn’t possess today. You’d committed to this idea, and now you were gonna stick with it.

He registered what you had on as soon as he sat down on the edge of the bed. He went to take his boots off, but his muscles stopped all movements when he looked at you.

You could practically feel his pupils raking over your body. The warm simmer that came with his attention tingled across every inch of your skin. You played it cool though, acted natural as you grabbed your coat and shrugged it on.

“Where are you goin’?” he asked.

“Out,” you replied, picking up the nice bag you reserved for actual plans rather than errands or routines.

“Mind telling me where ‘out’ is?” he said.

“I don’t know. Just a couple different bars with my friends.”

He raised his brows. “You are going out to some bars?” he asked.

You scoffed and folded your arms across your chest. His face appeared neutral, but you were an expert in Frank-isms by now. You knew he was mocking you. It was rare for you to go out purely for socialization. He’d tease you about that regularly, saying you acted older than him by staying in all the time and going to bed early.

While normally you'd get all cute about his teasing, it frustrated you right now. You didn't want him finding humor in this when you were trying to teach a lesson.

“Yes,” you huffed. “I didn’t think you’d care since you didn’t even know if you were gonna be here tonight.”

And now his expression shifted to one of irritation as well. The passive aggressive reminder clued him into the fact that this wasn’t spontaneous. It wasn’t you trying something new for the hell of it or to get out of your comfort zone. No. You were mad at him, and instead of talking that through, you were gonna pitch a fit about it.

“I always care about where you’re going. But I don’t got a problem with it,” he said.

“Good,” you shrugged.

He sighed, his gaze lingering on your face. “Do you have a problem? Is something wrong?” he asked, clearly trying to give you the chance to end this whole thing right here.

But you didn’t take it. Instead you shook your head. “No. Why?”

“Cause you got an attitude. That’s why,” he said back.

“I don’t have an attitude,” you defended.

“You sure about that?”

“Yes,” you said. You knew you were walking a thin line. Frank was not a fan of bratty behavior to put it lightly.

He gave you another once over but ultimately decided to let it slide. "If you say so."

For once, you chose to quit while ahead and not say anything. You gave yourself a final glance in the mirror before turning to him.

"I'll see you when I get home," you said.

He nodded. And even though he wasn't pleased with your little act, he didn't want you leaving on a bad note. He forced down the irritation and pressed a kiss to your hairline.

"You call me if you need anything, yeah?" he said.

You nodded. "Yeah," you said quietly.

Regret was seeping in a little more. You'd have to get out of here quick, or you'd be kicking off your heels and hopping back into bed in no time.

You turned for the door, waving bye briefly before hightailing it out the main entry way and into the hall.

It was almost two a.m. the next time you heard Frank's voice.

You tapped his contact with a shaky thumb as you staggered your way to the exit of the club. Even pressed to your ear, you could barely hear the ringing over the music blaring all around. You pushed past people with your free arm and squeezed through the gaps between groups of guys with bad haircuts.

Once you made it outside, you took a deep breath. Finally, fresh air that didn't smell like cheap body spray or sweat. Out here, you could actually hear clearly when the phone stopped ringing.

"Hello?" his voice crackled from the other end of the line.

"Hi, Frankie," you said back, maybe a little too happily. You weren't drunk, but you weren't exactly sober either. "Could you maybe come pick me up if you're not doing anything? I was supposed to go home with my friend, but she doesn't wanna leave, and I could uber but-"

"I'll come get you," he cut off your tangent. You heard some shuffling in the background as he presumably got up. "Where are you?"

You paused, peering over your shoulder to the neon sign on the front of the nightclub. "Blackout."

Then there was a pause from him. "I thought you were just going to a few bars," he said.

"It wasn't my idea," you defended. "We were supposed to go to a couple bars, but you know how she is, I told you she never-"

"Alright, don't worry about it," he grumbled. "I'll be there in fifteen."

"Mkay, I'll be out front," you said. "Byeee."

You clicked the red circle on your phone's screen before he could say anything else.

For a moment, you pondered whether you should wait out here or go back inside. This area of town wasn't the best, but the interior of the club didn't feel much better. You sighed and leaned back against the wall. Your phone captured your attention for a few minutes, but when boredom started to set in, you just looked around, observing your company on this strip of sidewalk.

It was then that your eyes landed on a man nearby. He was watching you. That caught your attention.

His hair was dark brown, slicked back. He was around your age and had on an expensive coat with his hands jammed in the pockets. You could feel the weight of his stare shifting up and down your body. And it gave you an idea.

Under normal circumstances and sobriety, you probably would have looked away instantly. Maybe even been a little creeped out. But having gone out tonight with the feeling of neglect as your shadow, you felt a little more interested in the attention.

So you bit your lip and cocked your head, beckoning him over without ever waving your hand.

He played right along with you. Without a word, he slipped away from his group in line and walked over to where you stood.

As he got closer, you could see him with more detail, and he became a person not just a distant figure. Guilt started to well up in you, but you tried drowning it out. You didn't actually want this guy. You just wanted Frank to see him talking to you.

"What's a pretty girl like you doing out here all alone?" he asked.

"Waiting for my ride," you answered, smiling but not too much.

He hummed and nodded. "Leaving already? That's a shame."

"Mhm, I got work in the morning," you lied.

"Oh yeah? Where do you work?"

"I can't tell you that. You're a stranger," you replied with a little added giggle.

He huffed out a laugh. You noticed how his eyes simultaneously trailed along your exposed collarbone.

"Pretty and smart," he teased. "I think I'd be making a huge mistake if I let you go without even asking for your number."

"You didn't even ask for my name yet," you said with a grin.

"Well then, what's your name?" he said, voice lowering slightly.

Before you could get the syllables out, a deep voice answered for you.

"Get in the car."

Your head snapped in the direction of the street to find Frank's car before you and him standing next to the driver's side. You hadn't even noticed him pull up, the sounds of the wheels had melded together with all the others on this street.

The moment you saw his face you regretted this whole idea. Not even just entertaining that guy, but everything, this whole night. If only you could turn back time and just force yourself to tell Frank you were upset.

But you couldn't, so you nervously shuffled towards the passenger door, not even daring to look back at your other suitor.

You got inside and slumped down in your seat. Only seconds later Frank's door slammed shut too. He didn't say a word either, not to you or that other guy.

Your eyes were glued to your thighs as he put the car back in drive and pulled away from the curb. You sat there, body rigid as you waited for him to tear into you. It would be coming any moment now you were sure of it.

But minutes passed. The car made several turns. Lights went from green to red. And not a sound.

He didn't yell, didn't lecture, didn't ask any questions. It was starting to really freak you out inside. Part of you was scared he'd pull up in front of the apartment, dump you out of the car, and then drive out of your life forever.

You dared to look over at him and just saw his eyes straight ahead, his hands clasped tight on the wheel. It was unnerving. Never did you imagine you'd be wishing for Frank to blow up on you, but this silence was unbearable.

Not wanting to start anything while he was driving, you waited till you were down the street from the apartment complex before speaking.

"Frank... I'm really sorry," you said quietly.

He didn't respond, and a long pause stretched from your last word to the moment he put his car in park. The engine went quiet as the lights on the dash faded away. Golden hues from the street lamps outside were the only thing illuminating the two of you.

"Are you now?" he said, and you could tell he was still pissed.

"I really am. I swear, I wasn't with that guy at the club or anything like that. He just came up to me while I was waiting for you, and I didn't wanna blow him off just in case and-"

"You weren't looking too eager to blow him off when I pulled up," he cut you off.

The car stayed silent because you didn't have a response for that. You bit your lip, giving the best set of puppy eyes you could manage. It was all for nothing though because he still wouldn't look at you. This was what you wanted wasn't it? Him jealous? So why did it feel so bad?

It was only after this period of quiet that he turned to look at you. His eyes were dark and stormy. You nearly cowered from a brief glimpse alone.

"Did you think you were being cute tonight?" he asked. "Getting all dressed up, being snippy with me, trying to make me jealous."

"I wasn't-"

"Did you think I'd find that cute?" he said, tone hard as ever.

You bowed your head instead of persisting with denial.

"No..."

"Good 'cause you should know better. I don't have time for shit like that. You wanna play games, you go find yourself a little boy who's willing to put up with 'em."

You just nodded, not having the courage to even verbally respond. It didn't matter to him though. He kept going regardless.

"I'm not gonna tell you this again. Don't think you can pull shit like that with me. I got better things to do, and I'm not gonna spend my time worrying about if you're out letting some other man put his hands on you."

Again, you nodded. The heat of humiliation crept up your neck and into your cheeks.

"When you're with me, you're with me. Got it?"

"Got it," you repeated, so quiet it was barely audible. Your eyes had started to sting a little bit, but you swallowed hard to keep your emotions down.

He went quiet again, and the tension nearly killed you. You weren't sure if he was gonna send you up to the apartment all alone or go with you just to lay in bed without speaking. But luckily, he did neither of those things. Instead he patted his thigh a couple times and looked over at you.

"Come here," he said, his voice low but no longer tense.

Your head popped up a little. "What?" you asked, making sure you heard right.

"Come here," he said again, this time with more command.

You didn't need to be told a third time.

He reached down between his legs to slide the seat back slightly while you climbed over the center console. One of your legs awkwardly swung over his thighs, and the other knocked into the seatbelt receptacle. You still made it work though.

His right hand came to cup your jaw, to force you to make eye contact. With a closer look, he saw your watery eyes.

"Don't give me that. You got yourself into this," he said.

Before you could blink again, he brought you in closer and put a rough kiss on your pout. Your palms landed on his chest. The strong beat of his heart pounded against one.

Soon, his grip fell from your jaw down to your waist. His fingers dug into each of your hips as he tugged your lower body flush against his abdomen.

You gasped at the sudden drag of your center on his lap. Frustration rolled off of him with every movement. His hands found the hem of your sleek little black dress and hiked it up over your hips.

The quick exposure startled you. Pulling back a little, you looked around outside to see if anyone was nearby to see through the windows. His truck wasn't tinted, and even under the cover of night, any wandering eyes would have no trouble seeing what the two of you were up to.

"What're you looking for, baby? Thought you wanted other people to see you in your pretty little outfit," he said as he guided you close again.

His lips latched onto your neck, drawing another gasp from you. Your sensitive skin fell victim to his teeth. He nipped at you before gliding his tongue over the area. You recognized it as an attempt to leave a mark. That sent a little thrill for you. He could act like a hardass all he wanted, but he still got jealous like anyone else.

"I'm just making sure no one's watching..." you said.

“Why? You feelin’ shy now?” he teased.

You just shook your head. Your hands rubbed up and down his biceps onto his shoulders and then up to his neck.

“Just don’t wanna get in trouble,” you said as you nuzzled him.

“The only one you gotta worry about getting in trouble with is me,” he said with a light smack on your ass.

You whined, but the words were enough to clear the possibility of getting a ticket or worse from your mind.

His hand mimicked your own. It slid to the back of your neck. Only he grabbed the skin tight, gave you a little tug to make you look in his eyes.

You let out a soft whimper. His stare was so intense, it was almost enough to bring those tears from your eyes once and for all. You squirmed on his lap without even thinking about it. In bed, there was so much space for evasion. You could roll over, hide your face in the pillows or blankets, even just look at the ceiling or the wall. But in the car, like this, there was just Frank.

His thumb swept back and forth on your chin before he relented and connected his mouth with yours once again.

“You’re too fuckin’ cute,” he mumbled into your mouth. “Even when you’ve been a pain in my ass, I let you get away with it.”

“Cause you know I didn’t mean it, daddy,” you whispered.

That brought a groan out from somewhere deep in his chest.

He tilted his head back against the seat. “Don’t give me that.”

Your hands rubbed up and down his chest. You rocked your hips on him too to go with them. As he gave you more lenience, you felt more comfortable fighting back a little. It was more fun to play along when you knew you weren’t on the verge of a breakup.

“I never wanted you to be mad at me. Just wanted your attention.”

You rolled your hips harder in a wider circle. Between your thighs, you could feel the start of his bulge. It was only half-hard right now, but with a little time, you knew you’d have him ready to go.

“You saying I don’t give you enough attention? That why you act up?” he said. His hands returned to your waist, gripping and massaging the skin of your torso.

“It’s never enough for me cause I want all your attention, all the time. Every single second. Just wanna be with you.”

"I swear you're gonna send me to an early grave,” he said.

You smiled a little, and your hands fell between your two bodies. They went for his fly, but he grabbed one of your wrists and kept you from getting to it.

Immediately, you looked to him with a fresh pout. But he just clicked his tongue at you.

“You think you deserve my dick after tonight?” he asked.

You huffed. “It’s not gonna feel as good for you if you don’t lemme take it out.”

That put a bit of a smile on his face too. “Oh, it’s all for me? Who knew my girl was so selfless?” he mocked.

You nodded proudly, now able to slip free of his grasp and flick open his button. From there, you yanked the zipper down and shimmied around the layers of fabric to get at what you really wanted.

His cock stuck out for you, nearly fully hard by now. With a couple more tugs of your hand, it filled out the rest of the way. You watched it, almost mesmerized. It was warm and flushed, oozing precum for you.

“If you took me inside first, I coulda sucked it for you,” you pouted, looking between him and his cock.

“We’re not gonna be out here all night. I’m sure you’ll still have some making up to do later,” he said simply.

He corralled you against his chest, boosting you enough to pull your panties aside and situate you over his length. This wasn’t gonna be on your terms, you could already tell. He reached down between the two of you, wrapping his thick calloused fingers around himself atop your own hand. With both of you guiding the shaft, you angled it at your entrance and then slid down on it.

“Fuck,” you whined, dropping your head on his shoulder.

He hummed, an agreement of sorts. His hand rubbed up and down your back before he began rocking his hips up into you.

“If this is what you needed, you should’ve just asked,” he said into your ears. “No reason for you to throw a tantrum. You know I always take care of you.”

The rasp of his voice was enough to make you shudder. You gripped onto him a little tighter and started to aide his thrusts, bouncing up and down with what leverage you had in this position.

“Didn’t wanna ask. Wanted you to do it,” you whimpered.

“Yeah? I’ve spoiled you so much you expect me to read your mind now?”

All you could do was whine at that. You knew what you meant, and it wasn’t so petulant. There was just no other way you could articulate it at present.

You grabbed onto his shoulders, digging your fingers into the muscles there. “Shut up,” you choked out. You threw your head back as you began to bounce faster.

He gave you a harsh smack on the ass, much harder than before. This time it left a lingering sting.

“Watch your attitude. You’re not off the hook yet.”

You just kept riding him. Up and down, up and down. You were sure the car was rocking by now. Creaking and shaking under that dingy streetlamp. That didn’t matter to you. At this point, you didn’t care if someone saw. You wouldn’t care if a crowd stopped to watch. Not when you felt this good. Not when you were so close.

“Daddy, fuck, can I please cum? Pretty please?” you asked.

“Do you think you deserve it?” he asked for the second time tonight.

His hand slipped down and rubbed at your clit. The rough skin of his fingertips on your little velvet bud got you to squeal. Your hips bucked on instinct, nearly knocking your knee into the door.

“Um… Uh…” you stammered, trying to act hesitant. If you seemed remorseful, he might be more inclined to reward you. That was your thought process anyways.

“Simple question, sweetheart.” His fingers didn’t stop swirling on your bundle of nerves.

“Yeah! I do! Cause I’m really really really sorry, and I love you so so so fucking much. And you’re the only one who can make me cum like this. Can’t even think of anyone else when you make me cum,” you said, practically babbling.

Had your head been upright and your vision focused on him, you could have seen the fondness for you in his expression. But your head was still back facing the ceiling, and your eyes were still drooping with ecstasy, so you missed that and just heard him say “alright. I guess you deserve it.”

You let out a moan loud enough to pierce the interior of the car. Your head popped back up now to lay a sloppy kiss on his lips. “Thank you, daddy,” you whimpered before you felt the first wave of release.

That hot coil of pleasure inside you snapped. You whined and rode your way through it. Nothing could stop you from moving. You kept going and going, quivering thighs and all.

He spilled himself inside you as well somewhere during your high. You felt it vaguely, but the sensation was pretty muted compared to everything else going on.

You finally slowed down and then came to a stop when you were reaching the end of your descent. Once you’d fully come down, you slumped against his chest, your own breaths coming out ragged.

He squeezed you close without a word, planted a quiet kiss on your head.

“I love you too,” he mumbled.

You nuzzled his chest once more, saying sorry without words. It was enough for Frank though.

He slid himself out of you and fixed your clothes. You lazily made sure everything was in place before he popped open the car door and helped you out.

Your legs felt wobbly as they held you up on the asphalt, but you managed to stay upright till he was out too. His hand landed on your ass, giving it a pat. You happily tucked yourself to his side before the both of you began walking towards the apartment building.

[tttt06]

Arguments

IdolChan x Blackreader

Requests are open! I reply quickly. Masterlist here

Synopsis~ What an argument with Chan is like

Warnings~ SMUT, rough, teasing, oral (Receiving), dirty talk, overstimulation, breeding, Raw (Don't do it niggas!),

Word Count~ 1.4k

"WELL WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!"

Your hand waved in the air from frustration, "TO TAKE CARE OF YOUR FUCKING SELF!? I DON'T KNOW CHAN! MAYBE SPEND MORE TIME WITH YOUR GIRLFRIEND THAN THAT FUCK ASS LAPTOP!"

Chan laughed out of anger, "Are you going to produce the songs that pay for your free living?!"

You took a step back, "I can leave! FUCK THAT! I COULD MOVE OUT IF IT'S SO BAD."

Chan watched as you threw around his things and angrily packed them. 

Chan said, "Y/N." His voice was stern, but it was clear that he was losing his edge.

"Fuck you, Chan. I hate this. We're done. We're not the same, and I won't stay around for this bullshit."

He walked closer, "Y/N." You looked up. His eyes were full of sorrow and boiling anger, "You're not going anywhere."

He pulled you to your shared bedroom and took his shirt off. "Let's shower and talk." You scoffed, "Now you want to talk about it?" Chan said, "Let's truce. I won't say anything until after the shower. Please. I'm exhausted, and I'm tired of arguing with you."

You two have been arguing every other day. It was highly annoying, and you were getting sick of it.

You didn't even know why, but everything Chan did would piss you off, and it was vice versa.

You got in the shower. It was hot, and the water was raining on your face. Chan's big body was behind you, rubbing your back. He kissed your shoulder, and you said, "Chan, no. Not now."

He asked, "What's going on with us?"

You sighed, the shower making you feel more vulnerable than you realized. "I don't know. I really don't want us to be like this."

Chan said, "Yeah? Me too." You felt tears welling in your eyes as you confessed, "I feel like you don't love me anymore."

Chan furrowed his eyebrows and asked, "Why would you think that?" You said defeatedly, "I don't know Chan. We don't go on dates, we don't talk to each other all day, we don't even tell each other we love each other anymore. We've been dating for four years, and it would suck if it was all for nothing."

Chan kissed your shoulder, "I understand."

He kissed your neck and said, "Can I show you how much I love you?"

You said, "Not in here. N-no. We have to talk."

Chan said, "We will. Always. I wanna work this out, too."

You turned around and hugged him. He was so big and warm. He smelled like wood and vanilla. 

"C'mon."

You two got out of the shower and dried up. You sat on the bed and said, "Should we go to therapy?" Chan said, "I wouldn't have the time, and you'd get upset again. Let's talk it out and try not to get mad at each other, yeah?"

You nodded. You two stared at each other with love and affection. You said, "I'm sorry for screaming at you."

Chan said, "I am too. I hate yelling."

You pouted, "I hate arguing." Chan put his hand over yours and said, "You know I love you with all my heart, right?"

You cupped his cheek, "I hope so." 

Chan pulled you onto his lap and kissed your cheek. "Of course I do." You whispered, "I really wanna see my boyfriend. I miss him."

He rolled on top of you and said, "I know baby. Fuck, I love you." He rubbed your cheek. There was so much affection in his eyes as he looked at you. You said, "I don't even want it to get that heated again."

Chan kissed your neck. You gasped, hands tightening around his shoulders. "Can we please?"

Chan whispered, "You don't have to ask." He kissed down your collarbone and rolled your pants down. You perked your hips up so he could reach.

He rolled your panties down and kissed your stomach. You sighed, ready for the head he was about to give you.

He carefully rubbed his thumb over your bud, and a soft exhale left your chest. Chan said, "Just like that baby girl. Breathe."

You hummed. You felt Chan's finger slip in, and your body loosened. His big nose pressed against your clit as he pushed his tongue in your hole with his finger. He collected the slick and swallowed.

Now his mouth was swirling around your clit. You gasped when he sucked. The sound of sucking and slurping makes you shake.

His finger finally moved inside of you. He curled it just right, hitting the spot. You moaned, "More. I need more."

Chan added another finger gently. Your hips rocked into his mouth. Chan moaned into your pussy. The vibration went up your spine. You breathed in, trying not to get too loud and over-dramatic.

Chan knew how loud he could get you if he tried hard enough.

Chan's fingers slowly got more aggressive as he fucked into your soaked cunt. Your moans were shaky. You grabbed his forearm and said, "I'm gonna cum."

Chan hummed. You dove your head back from the vibration. Your pussy clenched around his fingers, and Chan pulled away.

"Awe, you close? So close, right?"

He slipped his fingers out as he watched you suffer. You wanted to cum so badly, but he stopped. 

You reached down to touch yourself, but he grabbed both your wrists and put them above your hand.

He pinned you with one hand as the other unbuckled his pants.

"You ready?" You cried as he slid his hot cock into your hole. Your body relaxed as an exhale left your chest.

His face was inches from yours, breath hot. His eyes looked a lighter brown when he was close. Chan said, "I'm gonna rock your world baby."

You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck. Chan rocked into you. His dick hit your hilt with no problem. How you like it.

You moaned when he thrust into you again. You shivered as you confessed, "I feel good." He dove his head down, thrusting loudly and aggressively, "Yeah? You feel all of me?"

You nodded, moaning. Chan smiled, his dimples seeping into his cheeks. He watched as you lost the thoughts behind your head. You said, "You're so big." He laughed, "So good taking all this cock. Stuffing you so good." His voice was husky, and his breath was hot. 

His Australian accent had your pussy clenching around him. Chan groaned as he said, "I'm going to cum if you keep doing that baby."

He adjusted his position and continued his speed. You moaned, "I'm going to cum now!"

Chan went harder. His cock dug into your spot as you balled the sheets in your hand. Your lip caught between your teeth as you cried, "Chan! I'm so close!"

You heard him groan as he fucked back into your pussy. Your back arched as you took him. The knot in your stomach unraveled, and you came around him. 

Chan only went harder, chasing his own high. Your pussy clenched around him as ragged breaths left your throat. Chan wrapped his hand around it and squeezed. 

He stared into your eyes as you lost breath. He was pounding into you as you wept from the overstimulation.

You felt the knot quickly tie in your stomach again as you heard Chan chant, "Take it. Fuck take this big dick, yeah? Tight fucking pussy. So nasty and wet for me."

His thumb rubbed over your bud, furthering your arousal. You were ready to cum at any moment.

You cried out a moan as you felt his dick twitch inside of you. His muscles tensed as he squeezed his eyes shut. Chan groaned out as he came inside of you.

His head dove back. You were shaking underneath him, orgasming again. Chan's grip loosened around your neck. Your hands were tight around his shoulders.

He collapsed into your small frame and sighed.

It was silent for a while. You two needed to collect your breaths and thoughts. 

It ended when Chan said, "We really needed that argument."

You smiled, "We needed the sex too." Chan laughed in agreement. You huffed with the smile never fading. Chan rolled off you and pulled you close to his chest.

"Baby, I never wanna hurt your feelings like that again."

You smiled, "Neither do I." Chan kissed your forehead with love. He started giggling, and you two talked each other to sleep.

[skobeloffico]

We can do it softcore (if you want) but you should know I do it both ways.

Synopsis: nerdjo has a girlfriend who's a bigger freak than his virgin brain can handle (he never touched a woman and is surprised one WANTS to desperately touch him).

Nerd!Satoru Gojo x freak!fem reader

Tags: made with chubby reader in mind, gojos lowkey a freak too, porn with plot, vrigin gojo, teasing & edging, voyeurism (suguru is sleeping in the same room), cunnilingus, tip licking, not proof read — it's 1am lmao, banner made by me :P.

He should know better, staying up until 3am to wait for an update for his favorite gacha game. He doesn't have a gambling problem, don't worry about how much of his family fortunes he spend to get a single character. That's irrelevant.

"Satoru go to fucking sleep!" Suguru, his roommate shouts as he throws one of his pillows at satoru "just one more hour!" Satoru shouts back at the half asleep male, only receiving a 'dumbass' as a response as suguru flips to face the poster covered wall. If you told them the first time they applied to this collage that a nerd and an emo guy who smoked would be roommates — let alone friends. They would've laughed to your face.

"And after all, I'll get the glorious — MY glorious sword of heaven the one and only Aytea." Satoru said as he held his cheeks while he buzzed with anticipation "Don't remind me." Suguru moaned into his hand and covered his head with a pillow as the dark room became illuminated with a blue glow "remind you? Alright so Aytea is a goddess who–" and satoru started rambling about some character from a video game. Again. Suguru was starting to get sick of it at this point — it made him pissed that he already knew all of the information, suguru could recite it with his eyes closed and standing on one leg if he wanted to.

"– and that's why I have to have her, it's her first banner. I spend what 500 dollars on this game." Satoru said the number like it was nothing, just measly 500 dollars.

Suguru looked at him like he was crazy "you are so fucking dumb for a nerd." Now sitting up at his bed while rubbing his face with a palm "Don't you have something better to do than pester me? Go clean your piercings or whatever." Satoru shooed him with a hand as his game was close to finishing updating "Yeah, like sleep." Suguru stood up abruptly and watched the yellow line starting to close in at 100% — he debated if it was worth to unplug his PC. It wasn't.

"Yes... yes.. YES!!" satoru shouted out that the whole dorms could hear him, turning to suguru and shaking him by his shoulders "SHES HERE!!" He sat back down to start the game, immediately going to the gacha screen to try and get her atleast 6 times. What a desperate guy.

"I can't sleep like this." Suguru complained as he put on his beat up sneakers and sliding a pack of cigarettes into his pocket "I'm going out for a smoke." Satoru just dissmisingly waved his hand at him as suguru softly shut the door (he wasn't trying to get the whole dorm to hate him like satoru is doing right now.)

When suguru left satorus whole demeanor changed. He reached for his phone and unlocked it just to be met with one notification that read;

"Did your roommate leave already?"

He smiled at the notification as he pushed his glasses back up, writing a response with trembling fingers "he went out to smoke, I think i weirded him out with the new character stuff."

He stood up from his table and walked slowly to the edge of his bed, sitting at the soft mattress — he was chewing on his nails as he stared at the three dots as you typed a response.

"Hm. Can I come over?"

Satoru smiled like a kid getting presents on Christmas, this was your first time going to his (shared) dorm — suguru was always the first one to be done with lectures and always hotboxed the room that satoru couldn't breath with his asthma, coincidentally he met you at a book store where you browsed various manga and CD's. The nerd saw you pick out one of his faves — a radiohead album and a manga about superheroes, he was so embarrassed when he realized you caught him staring that satoru tried to hide his face behind a bookshelf "are you.. watching me?" You said looking up at him, did you teleport? "Uhm no ‐ I Uhm... I saw you pick out a radiohead album I too like – Tom York, I ahaha I'm rambling." Satoru had to forcefully stop himself before looking more weird in front of a pretty girl like you, and yet you smiled up at him.

Somehow his awkwardness was endearing to you and you took pity on him (his words) but you just saw a nerdy guy who never felt the touch of a woman (your words).

To be honest, satoru was so scared to introduce you to suguru thinking you'll leave him for his best friend — he's more cool, popular and handsome in his own way. If you would place satoru and suguru in a room full of women satoru is 1000% sure they would all flock to suguru.

Satoru was so lost in his delusions that he didn't realize the two hushed voices outside his dorm room, the two voices he recognized. "How long have you known each other?" "About a month now." "interesting.. he didn't tell me he has a girlfriend."

Suguru opened the door to be met with disgruntled satoru, looking at the both of you with wide piercing blue eyes "I.. you.. you two know each other?" Satoru stammered while looking at suguru who took off his shoes and jacket "we just met, I was going back and she was going the same way. Then I figure out you have a girlfriend." Suguru couldn't care less right now, the warm inviting bed just calling to him — on the other hand you were grinning at satoru like a cat.

"Oh my sweet boyfriend.." dramatically you fell into satorus embrace as you kissed his cheek smoothly "I couldn't sleep, can I sleep with you?" You giggled when you heard suguru yawn and snore in his sleep — he's supposed to be a heavy sleeper but somehow everytime he changes positions satoru is 100% he is awake and judging both of you "we ‐ we shouldn't have .. sex.. when he's here." Satoru almost sank into himself at your confused expression that turned into a smile with your tongue out "Oh I didn't mean that kind sleep, but we can have sex if you wanna."

God satoru is praying suguru didn't forget to put on his noise canceling earphones right now, with the way you are pushing satorus chest down on his creaky bed and taking off your blouse. Trailing your fingers slowly up his anime t-shirt and letting them rest on his nape — straddling his hips only for him to whimper out your name just to be shut up by your kisses "Shh satoru.. we don't want to wake him right?" Satoru shook his head softly as his hands found your soft hips — griping the supple flesh and smiling at it.

"you are so hot." He commented as you took off his prescription glasses "really?" You smiled while taking out a microfiber cloth for his glasses — cleaning the lenses thoroughly and then perching the rectangular glasses back on his face "just so you can see me better." You giggled as satorus ears turned red at your comment and action, trying to look away but one way was looking at sugurus sleeping back and the other was an anime girl looking straight into his soul, to be honest the best way was to let you tease him.

With the way you leaned down on his body made him hard, pressing your soft curves to his as he pushed you impossibly closer into his body — almost as if trying to morph into one. You kissed him so sweetly. Every kiss lingering longer than the last, kissing his jawline and neck made him shudder with want and admiration.

"Are you real?" He asked with a gasp and a hurried hand clasping over his mouth as you looked at him through your lashes "of course I am, if I weren't real you would have cum by now." You chuckled lightly at the tease when he whimpered out a pathetic 'please' and 'I want you'.

"Soon baby, Soon." You smiled into his neck as you felt his hips grind against you, trying to fuck into you but being met with the fabric of his grey sweat pants "so needy.." when you sat back up he groaned out, poor guy just wants to be close to you as humanly possible.

Satoru gripped your thighs, rubbing his thumb across the plush skin — drawing hearts and other shapes, did he just draw a dick? He looked up st you with a smirk and lidded eyes, trying not to laugh.

"Can you sometimes wear thigh-highs sometimes?" He smiled, squeezing your thighs while licking his lips not so discreetly "nah not my style." You retorted, grinding back on him "ah– worth.. a shot." He breathed heavily trying not to rip his pants off and fuck you until you both were sticky with sweat and cum, only to be covered with a blanket while holding eachother closely.

"I think he's asleep now, didn't move for a while." You said while looking at suguru, squinting your eyes for any minor movement "Focus on me pretty girl.." satorus fingers found your chin to make your face look towards him — taking your attention he so desperately craved, getting greeted with a pout "Oh is someone jealous?" He thought for a moment and the huffed out a soft 'yeah'

"is it so wrong to want my partners utmost attention?" He asked, running his thumb across your lower lip. Thinking about how your lips would feel around his cock "I supposed not, it's a shame he's here. I wanted to hear you talk about your nerdy interests as I suck your dick — making your voice shudder and all." You said with a pout while making circles on satorus chest, sighing and hopping off satorus lap only for him to get up on his elbows "Hey what are you?—" just ti be cut off by you removing your own shirt, having nothing underneath and being met with your brests right in his face "Oh Uhm, hi oh– boobs are so pretty– I MEAN YOU ARE SO PRETTY!" You giggled as satoru fought to look at your eyes and not at your breasts, red as ever. Almost popping a vein at how clenched his jaw was.

"Scoot Over." You commanded and he obeyed. Still trying not to look at your boobs, but failing miserably when you turned to look at him "do you wanna.. i dunno" he said while playing with the hem of his t-shirt "– do you wanna press against each other? Skin to skin?" Satoru asked bashfully, just for you to nod and him throwing his shirt somewhere unknown in his dorm only focusing on bringing your soft body towards his, pressing your chests together and letting your breathing slowdown.

Heart beats almost in sync.

"I want you to be my first." Satoru said with a nervous expression "really?" He nodded pressing a kiss to your lips only for you to kiss back with tongue. Interlacing your fingers into his snow white hair and him gripping your hips.

The old bed creaking underneath you two as satoru was now on top, taking in a deep breath as his fingers slipped under the elastic band of your pants "so you want this?" He asked, trying to be extra sure "yes satoru. I want you to break me lowkey." You joked only to be met with a breathless laugh as satoru took off your pants, disappearing between your thighs and parting them — licking along your slit and spreading your fold open with his thumbs sucking on your clit with attention.

"..so sweet.." He mumbled into your pussy as his palms squeezed the soft plush of your hips, his eyes closed as he ate you out like a gourmet meal. This was one of the best sensation he ever felt.

You gripped his hair with one hand when sstoru started to lick at your entrance, spreading you further for him to reach more, trying to lick every crevice. "Please pretty.. I want you to– cum on my face please.." He moaned into your cunt as his nose bumped against your clit, eating you out like a starving man. You didn't expect him to actually lick you clean when you came — savoring the liquid like it was the best dew he ever tasted. "Can we do that again?" He asked, glowing almost as you trying to catch your breath with the way he was squeezing your hips "Let's focus on you getting to cum first.." you barely breath out.

But when those words left your mouth he perked up, letting your fingers undo the tied bow on his sweatpants, then pushing them off and letting his cock spring free — already leaking precum, letting your finger glide against his tip and popping it into your mouth. Tasting him. "Are you drinking enough water? Energy drinks aren't everything you know." You commented while gripping the base of his cock, jerking him off slowly "I'll– look into it."

God he was so pretty when he looked down at you with the blushing cheeks and lidded eyes. Almost innocent in a way, even though you were going to be doing something far sinful in a moment.

Satoru gulped down left over saliva In his throat at the sight of you licking his precum off, soft licks — you were just trying to torture him when he was so close! "Please baby." He begged, like he always does. This one felt more hurried, more raw. Satotu pulled at your hair to stop you from licking, making you listen to his words "I– I really need to fuck you. Like desperately." You shrugged laying back down on your back "come on then."

Satoru looked in your eyes, you stared back. He didn't have to look which was surprising as this was his first time inserting himself into a woman — almost cumming instantly when his tip entered your wet heat. "Ohmyfuckingod.. it's so wet– it's so good.. HOLY SHIT." with every inch he pushed in he felt like he was ascending, moaning your name like a prayer.

"Holy fuck!" Satoru screamed out when he bottomed out, his hands trembling and abs clenching. His palms finding their favorite place on your hips and Humping into you like a crazed maniac "easy there toru!" You said with a laugh only to be shut up by him biting your neck and licking over the mark.

"It feels so good im sorry.." satoru whimpered out a half assed apology — like hell he was sorry! With the way his hips only sped up at your moans and with the squelches of your pussy echoing into the quiet room.

—

The last thing you remember was satoru cleaning you up with his tongue, lapping up any climax that dared to leave your cunt. Licking his lips at the end witha satisfied smile.

"You two are freaks!" Suguru yelled out, gripping his hair as he shoved his head between two pillows. "Why thank you suguru." You said with a smile and satoru blushed, covering his face with his palm only for you to turn to satoru "how do you feel about threesomes?"

© Scobeloffico : Don't repost my work, don't plagiarize it on different sites (ao3, wattpad)

[steviewashere]

Gonna give Steve GERD because I've been dealing with the devil's acid reflux for four days now and I. am. exhausted.

He and Eddie are gonna be hanging out and chilling in bed. Eddie's reading a book quietly to himself, maybe murmuring the words under his breath. Meanwhile, Steve's perched along his pillows, hand pressed tight to the center of his chest, grimacing and burping and swallowing every thirty seconds or so. And his stomach is upset (IBS because he must go through it like me) and he really doesn't want to take a cap-full of Metamucil and also a handful of Tums. All he wants to do is comfortably sleep, but the acid reflux says otherwise. (Also the whole constipation thing because he's genuinely pissed off that he can't go to the bathroom. Because he knows if he could, then he could probably sleep a little bit more restfully.)

Eddie finally notices. "You doin' okay babe?"

Around the burning in his chest and throat, "I ate two slices of pizza today. Only two! You think I'm okay?"

"Just a question."

Steve, mockingly, "Just a question." He sighs, grimaces, hic-urps. With a quick gasp of air, he says, "I'm gonna invent a time machine. Like full DeLorean style. And I'm gonna go back in time and make society forget about making pizza. Pizza is evil."

"Gotta say, you knew that the pizza was gonna irritate you. I tried to talk you out of it. Offered you the soup and salad and"—

"Oh, so now I'm not allowed to have a little bit of fun and whimsy? Is it...is it a crime to want cheese pizza now? God, live a little, Eddie."

Eddie rolls his eyes. Goes back to his book. "And I'm supposed to be the drama queen?"

"I'm gonna put my stupid fucking constipation meds in your coffee tomorrow morning."

"Why don't you go put a cap-full in some water now, sweetheart?" Eddie murmurs, "I know among other things that it would be helpful right now."

"God forbid I don't want chalk in my mouth."

"God forbid I want my boyfriend to not have an upset stomach." He hears Steve scoff at him. For an extra measure, he adds, "Maybe have a couple Tums while you're at it. We have them for a reason."

"I'm gonna"—

"Grind them up and put them in my eggs tomorrow. Yes, I know, baby. Heard it a million times." He looks back over to Steve flatly. "Just do a couple things for yourself, dork."

"I don't wanna get out of bed. I'm comfy," Steve whines. Actually full on whines.

Eddie snorts. "Comfy. Yeah, sure. Having an active heatburn fit while not being able to use the bathroom is sooo completely comfy. You're right, Steve. Why didn't I just understand that from the get-go?"

"Yeah, why didn't you—Actually, I don't like your tone."

"Just go take your meds and the tone will go away."

Dramatically, Steve gasps. Hand pressed flat to his chest and everything. "Being mean to your boyfriend? I should have you shackled and displayed in the center of town, let them throw the ripest of tomatoes at you. A thousand years! Jail for Eddie for a thousand years!"

"If I get you your meds, will you take them?"

"Yes."

Eddie drops his book down, reading glasses pushed up into his hair, leans over, and smacks a chaste kiss to Steve's cheek. "What do you say, my lord?"

"Oh, Sir Knight Eddie"—Steve starts, all regal fanfare and batting eyes—"please, oh please, save me from the dungeon that is my poor, poor, illithid body. Please, oh please bring me the holiest cure in all the land—the wretched, most despised, most foul beast—the elixir of Metamucil."

"And...?"

"And my Tums, please."

Quickly, Eddie presses a firmer kiss to Steve's cheek and then bows his head. He picks up Steve's hand from his chest, plunks a kiss on his knuckles, and murmurs, "Anything for you, my lord."

With his other hand, Steve pats the top of Eddie's head. "Thank you, baby."

"Tomorrow, we shall have porridge and the freshest of fruits, my lord."

"With coffee?"

"Are you"—Eddie sits himself up, leveling Steve with a disbelieving look—"are you actually insane? With the Metamucil in your system the night before, if you so much as drink half your normal giant mug of coffee, you'll be shitting your pants right at the table. Y'think I'm bending every single one of my wills?"

Steve pouts. Crosses his arms over his chest. "Jail," he mumbles, "jail for Eddie for a million years."

"Guess I'm rotting in my binds, then."

"You've let me have coffee in the morning after before! How come"—

"Because I love you very much, Steve and I don't like it when you're struggling with terrible amounts of pain from that awful fucking IBS shit—pun not intended—you have. If we can find a way to lessen the damage, then we should be doing it."

Steve rolls his eyes. "Then maybe you shouldn't have cheese in your baloney sandwich tomorrow."

"Being lactose intolerant and having IBS are not the same thing, babe."

"Jail for Eddie"—

"I'm really starting to regret using all my nerd vernacular around you. Next, you're gonna be sending me into the depths of Mordor."

"Gonna throw you into lava like the one ring, Eds. Sacrifice," Steve hisses.

"Such an evil goblin creature when you want to be, I swear to god. Just take your meds tonight and we'll see how your wombo combo heartburn-IBS situation is like tomorrow morning. Then, I'll decide whether or not to start a brew, okay?"

"M'kay. But if you still deny me...you know what's gonna happen."

"I'm gonna be banned from making grilled cheese in the toaster...again. And then you're gonna send me to jail for..."

"A billion years."

Eddie nods. "A billion years. Got it. Seems reasonable."

———

This is not the Steve with IBS fic I want to write. But here is a mere sample of some dialogue, I guess. Didn't mean for this to get away from me lol

[luvcrxft]

Fyodor B. Grindelwald, and his darling boy Dr moodboard

Ich bau mir einen Traummann im meine Herzfabrik.

[FYODOR'S LETTERS TO G. GRINDELWALD]

Фёдор, 17. Апреля , Brief für mein Vater: I think I'm ill. There's this boy I've been speaking to. He is gentle, with everyone. It unsettles me... I've been tutoring him in potions, and he's terrible at it, and I don't mind it. Which is odd, because that sort of thing would irk me after three detailed lessons. He is gentle with me too, and I don't understand why. I do not smile at him. He comes in, every single week, cheery and patient and making jokes and bringing strange British treats that smell weird. I think I am ill because it is something I'm starting to look forward to. A lot. I noticed he broke his quill... something to be done about that. Perhaps a trip to Hogsmeade...? I will see. Do people get happy, when you replace their items? I do not want to insult him. No, I need to cherish this.

Фёдор, 2. Мая , Brief für mein Vater: I've been returning his smiles. He tells me I'm beautiful, and it is something I cherish. I've been keeping track of the progress he's making, I told him I'm proud of him. Because I am. I feel for him. I feel. I've allowed him to hug me, he's the first to ask beforehand. I usually hate it when others touch me, except for Luna and Vik, but they're warm, and I love them. I've recently noticed he needs a new broom. I'm going to buy him one... so many models to look through. I want to see Cedric happy. I can only call my affections curiosity, as I can't be sure he's like this with everyone, or just me. Admitting my affections are more would be akin to giving him a piece of my heart, letting him slide between my ribcage and the beating of my heart, and offering him the warmth there.

˚ʚ ㅤꨄ︎ ɞ˚

[CEDRIC'S JOURNAL, DAILY OCCURENCES]

C. A. Diggory, 17th April: I've been following Fyodor's potions tutelage for three months now. He's warmed up much more than before. He smiles rarely, and I can't really read his facial expressions sometimes. You can never really tell with him, if he's planning somebody's demise, thinking or happy. However, I'm wank at potions, but not once has he given up on me. Nor does he seem to want something out of me, which is ...it's nice. I'm more relaxed here. Yeah it smells like dead snake but so be it. I think he doesn't realise how he impacts people. He sits down with me every single week since December, explaining concepts and sharing his personal notes, and I think he doesn't realise I'm his friend now. Yeah. Fyodor's a very good friend to me. I'll let him be cold as long as he needs to be. I have enough warmth to share. ...

P.S buy new quill set later this week, more balm for bruises (BLUDGER) .......

C. A. Diggory, 2nd May: He's been letting me hug him, now. Fyodor's surprisingly warm to the touch, all softness and a gentle wrap of the arms I'm having a hard time forgetting. At first when I asked and he accepted, he gave me three precious seconds of this. I think he doesn't realise it, but he's started squeezing a little tighter, his head a little heavier on my shoulder before we part. ...And sometimes I want to keep him there. Sweet boy. I'm much better at potions now. Perhaps I'll ask him to go to Hogsmeade? He tries so unbelievably hard to contain his care, that warmth bleeding through the cracks of his glares and silent observations. I know he cares, I know because he never asked but somehow knew to buy me a new quill set, to gift me a new broom unprompted, to pass me extra potions notes and offer a smile or a hug when I'm pissed. He never asks and yet he already knows me so intimately, he carefully weaved his fingers around my heartstrings and coiled himself like a protective layer around my heart. Setting himself in place with all the delicacy he could possibly muster. Fyodor cares. And I will learn him just the same.

I will love you across all instances of time, space and form. Your heartbeat is the one melody I have engraved into my bones. I have learned to walk universes, bend reality to my will, and I have done it all for you.

Du bist in meinem Herz, zwischen meinem Brustkorb und meiner Seele. Die Wunder dieser Welt werdet dir geschenkt, lass mir noch ein bisschen Zeit.

- Love, Fyodor B. Grindelwald.

[chappellwrites]

Dick Grayson and His Cop Job

This isn't a fic, but this sort of like a rant? It's just something I've been seeing lately that has been upsetting me(not actually upsetting just annoying) where people say Duke hated Dick because he was a cop or that all his siblings trash on him because of his job as a cop. Dick wasn't a cop for the fun of it. He was a cop to try and reform the police force because he wanted to make it better. He was undercover. It was not an actual job. Not to mention, the person who wrote his arc as a police officer was Devin Grayson, who put him a position as a police officer when this was the SAME comic where he was written as Romani(albeit stereotypically). It was cop propaganda. Plus, the comic was written almost 20 years ago. Not only did Duke not even exist as a concept then, but Damian didn't either. Jason was still dead then since Devin wrote the comic in 2002, and Jason didn’t come back as Red Hood till 2005.

If you're going to make Duke hate Dick(which I'll dive deeper on in a moment), make him hate Dick for the fact the guy left him on a building(when Dick knew he had a fear of heights) and had him arrested. He knew Duke had a fear of heights and deliberately took him to a tall building so he couldn't get away. I feel like this was sort of crappy writing on Dicks part(since i feel like he would never do that), but at the same time it sort of does make sense because the reason he got Duke arrested was to keep Duke safe(even if he did it in a very wrong way.) Dick was very fond of Duke, and while Duke understood that Dick did what hw did, he had EVERY RIGHT to be pissed at the man who he considered an idol. Dick literally created Robin. Duke and his friends have every right to be mad at him since the man they looked up to(with the whole We Are Robin stuff) HAD THEM ARRESTED. The thing is, I think Duke and Dick could get along really well with how similar their characters are, but nobody ever has them interact. Duke either a) doesn't exist to them or b) they say Duke hates Dick and throws him off to the side. I'm just sort of sick of it because it sort of reminds me of the 'Jason is the mean Robin' or 'Tim is the genius Robin' stuff. I really want to see more interactions between the two in fics and whatnot. I want to see Dick apologize for what he did and see the two interact and get close. This is another reason I hate WFA. If you like it, that's fine. I just can't stand all the mischaracteriztion, especially of Duke. They make him seem shy and timid when that is the EXACT OPPOSITE OF HIS ACTUAL CHARACTER! Duke is not shy! He is loud and does not let people boss him around!

This is one of the reasons I can't stand most of the batfamily fandom. They mischaracterize everyone and stereotype them. They don't include the deep dynamics that they all have and instead water them down. I would love to write some Duke and Dick stuff, but I feel like I wouldn't do Duke justice since I don't know him that well as a character. I'd rather just leave him for someone who actually knows the depths of his character rather than take him, water him down, and just toss him into the Batfamily as a 'shy, timid new guy'.

[rosies-core]

Hiiiii, I stumbled across your sbg fanfic where the reader doesn't go to the phantom dimension, and I was like- hooked on your writing immediately! It's been so long since I made a request to any writer so I'm going to try and not sound awkward asf while writing this, but I had an idea, and I highly trust your skills! So, sbg x a reader who is overly observant, but fails to properly react to the observations/articulate them (I don't know how to shorten that 😭) Like, reader has their emotional recognition skills down to a T, but not their reaction skills. If someone in the group looks slightly paler than usual, they'll notice. If someone is lying, then they notice. If a stranger is following the group suspiciously long, it's noted. But reader has absolutely zero clue on how to call it out or respond appropriately. And it can be kind of a pain when the group knows that reader's mind runs a million miles a minute with details that can be really important, but struggles so much to properly articulate. But when reader does manage to articulate the details after a bit? It's a huge help and proves really beneficial if reader can get the words out in an efficient time. I hope that idea makes sense- Again, I'm so awkward when it comes to requests so I hope I didn't yap too much, lol! Take your time getting to the request! If you do choose to do it (it's totally up to you!) then make sure you get lots of rest, drink water, and eat yummy foods! Have a lovely day/night, Rosie!!! (≧◡≦)

OMG WHEN I TELL U I GIGGLED SO BAD WHEN I GOT THIS REQUEST <33 TYSM !!!

anyways heres what i wrote :’)

( also everyone who is reading this: YES IM WORKING ON PART TWO OF SBG X READER WHO DOESNT GO TO THE PHANTOM DIMENSION I PROMISE, LIFE HAS JUST BEEN HECTIC 💔💔 )

• ashlyn banner

• she notices that your like this. automatically. immediately.

• at first she thinks its a quirk of yours and wont matter much, until the phantoms start and things start getting real.

• i think she tries to like. force the information out of you - lovingly.

• in group conversations she’ll always make time for you to speak and give opinions or ideas because shes knows you’ll definitely have things to say.

• but like…you also lowk piss her off

• NOW HOLD ON-

• she wouldnt say it. ever. buuuttttt she would sometimes sigh aggressively when you don’t say the things that need to be said for the groups safety. she wants to know what your thinking, shes actually interested, but she doesn’t know how to tell you that. but

• overall, she really cherishes you and thinks your a great help, even if she doesn’t say it much.

• taylor hernandez.

• AHHHH SHE LOVES YOU<33

• thinks your the smartest and most wonderful person ever.

• always listens very intently when you talk

• i can picture her randomly nudging you like “y/n, notice anything? :)” or just checking in

• sometimes she’ll try to help put things into words that you cant.

• probably compliments you daily, always in the background like “ahhh, y/n is so smart.” *sighs dreamily*

• shes very interested in what you have to say, and also kinda enjoys it when you point out / notice small differences in her, it makes her feel seen (?) and like people care about her.

• but, even after i said all of that, i still don’t think she would notice quickly. like tyler, she was probably super stressed and just didn’t stop to think if anyone had any thoughts they didn’t say. ( if that makes sense ? )

• tyler hernandez.

• at first, i don’t think he would notice this little quirk of yours. he’s been so hyper focused on making sure taylor is alright that he just didn’t seem to think of it or see it.

• but once he does, he thinks your a super big help, even if you can’t say everything perfectly. he would probably be able to decipher what you mean. ( maybe not always completely but it’s the thought that counts. )

• i feel like he would be the type to get kinda jumpscared when you point out little things about him, he isn’t used to people caring like that, so he would stare at you like …….so how did you notice i coughed more than usual. but deep down does kinda like it / appreciate it, i think it will make him trust you a bit more.

• aiden clark.

• HELP HE IS ABSOLUTELY FLABBERGASTED WHEN YOU POINT THINGS OUT ABOUT HIM.

• if you mention his roots are coming in, his soul is exiting the building. he has ascended. astral projected. probably running to the bathroom to scream in the mirror. but it also makes him trust you, because he knows your not purposely being like this, and even if you do do things that kinda make him scared he still loves you.

• he talks alot, so he probably wouldn’t make little patches of time to make sure you can talk or get things out of your system, truthfully he would forget.

• ben clark.

• i think ben is on the more observant side, like you are, so you two would get along great in my opinion.

• he would be near you alot, nudging you slightly like “yo got info?” and is probably pretty protective over you in the phantom dimension.

• he probably thinks “oh this persons mind moves super fast, does that mean they’re anxious?” and because of him thinking its anxiety, he would give you headphones or just chill with you alot when things get high paced or just stressful.

• he can’t necessarily ask you things, ( atleast verbally ) but he would write you notes, maybe you can get your thoughts in order on paper?

• logan fields.

• he would be a mix of ben and taylor, not noticing it very quickly but will use it once he does. he asks you things, maybe during lunch or free time has these like “debriefs” where he asks you questions just to get your opinions on them. its like hes interviewing you 😭

• he really likes you, probably hangs out with you alot and just likes to hear what you have to say.

• i think you two would get along super well honestly. y’all are pookies :3

A/N: hi!! sorry these were so short and that it took forever to come out lmao,, hope these are good and that you like them! also sadly this isnt proofread so excuse any mistakes i could have made 😭

[loremmaradeur]

It has became too comfortable for people to call other people's views and opinions as "headcanons", especially when it involves anything with multiple choices outcomes and variations of playthroughs. And use it as a weapon to degrade how valid other POVs are in such cases. "mhm uh-huh go enjoy your 'headcanons' further but the CANON is different anyway!"

Oh, and of course only what those people say and think is canon, no matter how contradictory it is to what is really happening in source.

Just fucking tell me how in the hell turned into vampire being Tav/DU is just a spawn for Astarion to control around against their will, if:

They don't get burned by sun

They are absolutely free to feed from their "lord" - Astarion, he isn't just giving no shit, he straightforward encourages it

They can even say "fuck everything I'm going to Avernus"

Even their eye color doesn't change (I personally do not think that it's because of rushed finishing of game, but could be, but still)

They don't seem to have usual vampire spawns weaknesses at all

Astarion isn't controlling them at all, they are free to do and wish for whatever in the world they want

Even Astarion himself mentioned he has dropped a bit of his own blood into his lover. It is NOT a mere spawn just from this little fact.

And it's so god damn ridiculous how people are pissed off from "bride theory", calling it (and many different proofs that ascending path for Astarion isn't that bad at all) a total bullshit. "Just a fantasy of those delusional pro-fanatics" just go fuck yourself at this point, I wish I could say. It's pointless to argue when the point of their view is to show themselves superior over other side, nothing else. Tell those people to go touch grass and have a personal life, a real-life hobby, I don't know.

Guys, having fun and your own kind of fun is prohibited! You can no longer enjoy what you personally want! /s

I am cranky, yes, I admit it, but being on the outside part of this fandom is tiresome, you can only calmly exist in little inner circles. Such a healthy, welcoming and accepting enviroment, isn't it? /s I cannot go and watch Neil's streams or their recordings because I 100% know there are a whole parade of people in chat and comments bullshitting on AA fans and this path as a whole. Neil's choice is his own choice, it's his game and I as every other sane person respect that, but it gives no right to the crowd to use it for anything, it doesn't prove anything, how hard it is to understand that?

I really didn't want to post publicly this meme of mine, but it's simply the truth of Astarion's fandom, and AA fans are the minority everyone enjoys to kick around. Thanks, I guess. I'm glad I'm making people mad and giving them a major reason to express their hate by my mere existence. /s

I'll go draw something nice with Ascended Astarion for his other fans because we all simply deserve it.

[polycrowtruther]

So now that the Crows are "retired" TM I was thinking about what that might look like for them.

I mean I know that Captain Inej and Nina's retirement plans are almost ironclad in being literal girlbosses fighting for the rights and freedoms of those who are being overlooked (women, children, refugees, former slaves/sexworkers, survivors, etc). and I feel like Matthias (if he were alive ;-; ) would want to join in that fight spearheading the discussion on the rights of veterans. They would all work hard in the fields of politics, freedom fighting, peace negotiations, and human/climate rights activisim.

Jesper, while I very much think those ideas matter to him and he would support his partners 1 million of his percent, speaks to me as an academic. But not like a stuffy classist academic - Jesper is a reformed gambler baybeeee he's got that rizz, he's got that moxy, he's got that SPARK in him. He's been with the lowest of the low and the highest of the high. He helped David and Kuwei synthesize the cure to parem. He's a smart boy, and I think now that he still has more chaotic/violent outlets to funnel all that energy into (re: one of his wives is literally a deadly pirate in her spare time) he actually would go back and pursue more education at college. Maybe even heavily influence how farmers and low-income individuals are viewed by the educational elites. Maybe even advocate for said "lower class" people so they could pursue "higher" education as well.

BUT HERE's my thing. I feel like my brain blast is gonna be kind of controversial but HERE ME OUT.

Yes, Wylan is obviously still going to be a Mercher. Yes, Kaz is obviously still going to be a mafioso. BUT

retired Kaz and Wylan could just also become the Grishaverse equivalent of the Mythbusters. As just like a hobby. Just two guys with dubious views of their own safety taking questions the public has and seeing what is actually true. Providing their scientific works to the public free of charge almost exclusively with the intent of providing accessible research to the common people because it would piss off their haters even more. Getting to just dick around and experiment because 99% of science is just fucking around and finding out and I think that could be SO MUCH FUN FOR THEM. Like imagine them just being like

"Hey, allegedly there were a group of inmates who broke out of Hellgate completely alone and completely from the inside (aka the Alcatraz mythbuster episode). Some people think they died in the process and some people think they survived it."

"Wanna try and recreate it? See if it really was possible?"

"We'd have to get arrested first."

"Oh don't worry, I've had an active warrant for my arrest since I was thirteen."

"Okay, cool. Should we let the others know what we're doing for the day?"

"Nah, ideally we'll be out of there by dinner."

OR LIKE

"Hey Kaz, what do you think the best way to relieve the burn of spicy food is? Milk, or jelly?"

"Fuck if I know but Jesper's out for the day and I'm bored. Let's find out."

Unlike the irl mythbusters Kaz and Wylan would get to make out at the end of each episode tho. as a treat.

[swrwlf]

you're not the only one with a bad feeling

the sentence "i never thought mcr would go past the black parade" has been stuck in my head lately- this would be a convenient way to make that true.

but also... it's frustrating that their lore seems so mad about the world yet it's still *just* Lore. they'll never be in as financially risky situation as most of their fans live with day to day and it feels out of touch to a degree for these expensive shows to keep happening, especially advertising decades old media. is this really our best option for getting IRL community going?

i know i'll be appreciating this era when I'm even older, but looking at this rich band with my broke yet worldly aware young adult eyes... it almost hurts?

maybe this matches what you're feeling, maybe it doesn't and your frustrations are entirely different, or you still don't feel like you have a way to describe it, and that's totally okay- but i'm typing this to say you are definitely not alone in this feeling.

something IS off, and I hope we can start talking about it without other fans taking it as a personal slight, or misconstruing criticism for hate

YES!!! this isn't exactly what i meant when i said it felt off but this is something i've been thinking about since they released the remaster of three cheers tbh (the $90 revenge hoodie i almost bought comes to mind). WHY is everything so expensive? i know they can't control some things like ticket prices as those are set by ticketmaster (i think?) but i mean... they could try and make literally anything else affordable. like... some of the merch they're selling this tour is very mediocre and looks super uninspired, in my opinion, and it's easily DIY-able. why would i spend $50 for something that looks like that?

it really does feel out of touch, esp now with everything happening in the U.S. to me it kind of feels like they're capitalizing off of the whole thing with the government, and the way frank repressed XØ recently made me feel that way too. it felt a bit like he was capitalizing off the political state of the U.S. to sell old music. whether you like it or not these guys are... kind of part of the rich people problem and it pisses me off a little.

(little side note: my friend bought TWO THINGS from frank's merch store in relation to leathermouth, and it cost like 114 NZD which is like 160 USD. for... two things. his merch is so ridiculously expensive. i've bought stuff from other bands for way less so i just don't get it 😭)

i'm not an adult, but i know enough about my own family's financial situation to understand that it's just not possible for me to be able to support my chem outside of buying maybe one piece of merch from their store, rather than going to a show and being able to enjoy a band i like AND financially support them. not that they really need my money. it makes me so sad because i used to dream of mcr getting back together and being able to go to a show in like 2017. now that are back i can't go because it's too fucking expensive.

also: if any of the band members have said ANYTHING in relation to the gov/the war in ukraine/palestine and you could direct me to it that would be great cuz i'm losing hope that i'll see them directly mention it w/out prodding at all.

[fuzzyfoe]

I saw a post talking about how OCD can affect your sense of gender and how gender identity and transness can become an obsession that OCD latches onto and now I really wanna talk about it because I think this is something that affects me significantly.

I've pretty much been in the "questioning" phase in regards to my gender for nearly ten fucking years because of gender OCD, maybe even longer.

This post is gonna be mostly me talking about my own experiences and my own journey with gender expression and it's gonna be kind of vent-y, but I don't mind if other people wanna add on their experiences with gender OCD as well or turn this post into a discussion. Feel free to offer advice too if you wanna.

I'm gonna put this under a read-more since it ended up being quite long.

So here's the post that I saw that sparked me to make this post.

I first started having feelings of "I wanna be a boy" when I was around 11-12 years old.

I've heard that it makes sense for people to start feeling dysphoria around this age because this is the age in which people begin to enter puberty, but I've also heard things about how kids who feel this way initially may grow out of these feelings as they get older. There's a possibility that the latter that I've kept hearing could just be shit that was made up or blown out of proportion due to all the Abigail Shrier irreversible damage shit/ROGD narrative, but regardless it would seem kind of obvious with the fact that I'm now talking about this at the age of 25 that I did not "grow out of it".

Well, I didn't grow out of having OCD, at least. I feel like it's not possible for me to remember exactly the kind of person I was at that age, and I can't really load a mental snapshot of what my thoughts and feelings were during that time into my brain now as if it's a computer. Even now when I have feelings and emotions that I've felt as recent as an hour ago I have trouble remembering what the emotion felt like and I wonder if any feeling I've ever had has ever been "real".

I just remember reading about the concept of being transgender from the internet during that time, but being afraid of talking about it with my parents because I didn't know if it would make them feel sad if I told them that I didn't want to be a girl. I also kinda had the feeling that I was bisexual at the time, but I felt like I had to condition myself into only liking girls because liking girls is a "boy thing" that would make me a "real" trans boy and only cis men could be gay and still be undeniably men. And during the year that my parents told me we would be going to Disney World that summer, I felt like I had to somehow transition before that trip so that I could get to experience this trip that I might never get another chance to experience as a boy.

Something that happened during this time that I know for sure actually happened that my parents can attest to were my attempts to pee while standing up. I was using the "two-finger method" that I had read about online that involved lifting and spreading your inner labia apart. Most of the piss would end up in the toilet which would give me a great feeling of pride and euphoria, but also a bunch of it would end up behind the toilet seat, which I either didn't notice or just ignored. My mom kept thinking it was my brother who was doing this until she eventually caught on and realized it was me, and while she wasn't really angry when she confronted me about it it still felt terrifying. She asked me "Are you trying to pee like a boy?" with an expression as if it was kind of amusing, but at the time I was thinking "oh fuck she knows, i'm gonna have to come out to her now i'm gonna have to tell her that i want to transition". I ended up making up some kind of bullshit excuse and then stopped doing it, but part of me wishes that I did just tell her so that I maybe could've transitioned early in life and have had some hope of passing instead of having to deal with whatever kind of bullshit my brain is making me deal with now.

I was diagnosed with OCD at the age of ten, in the same appointment that I was diagnosed with ASD (which was Asperger's Syndrome at the time). My diagnosis actually occurred before I started having "dysphoria" and an obsession with identity was not one of the initial obsessions I had that lead to me getting diagnosed. My symptoms at the time were more stereotypical symptoms having to do with the alignment of objects, closing and opening doors, washing my hands, and wasting tons of toilet paper trying to leave the roll having been broken off evenly. It got to the point where I was often late for school because of it and it would even cause me to injure myself or damage other people's belongings, which prompted my parents to seek a therapist for me which lead to my diagnosis.

After pretty much ignoring those feelings of "dysphoria" until then, I first started playing with the idea of using pronouns other than the standard she/her again when I was 17. I was drawing a reference for a new sparkledog fursona, as this was when I had finally begun to internalize the idea that it's okay to have "embarrassing" or "cringe" interests and that I should just do what makes me happy regardless of knowing that I'm gonna get bullied or harassed for it. I was gonna put the pronouns in the ref as it had become common to start putting a character's pronouns in their ref, when I had the idea of trying out she/they instead of she/her. In the first draft of the ref that I posted I did have she/they listed as my fursona's pronouns, but soon after I decided to revise it and make it just be she/her because I was afraid of the idea that "real trans people" would see that as me trying to group myself in with them while not having the same experiences as them and take offense to that. This was during a time when a lot of the transmed shit was in full swing on this website.

I didn't agree with transmedicalism when it was applied to anybody other than myself and I would reblog posts disagreeing with transmedicalism, but I was afraid that if I tried to experiment with something as small as another set of pronouns I would just be doing that to seem "cool" while "real trans people" used those pronouns because they had to because of their dysphoria and they get mocked for it. I was aware of the concept that pronouns did not equal gender and of he/him lesbians and that demigender identities existed, but at the time my hair was still being cut to shoulder length and I wasn't doing anything else to alter the way that I presented, so I thought I wasn't allowed to change my pronouns until I at least made some kind of effort to look like I might be transitioning. I thought that maybe all demiboys were transmasc and all demigirls were transfem, and maybe it was frowned upon for a demigirl to be transmasc. I didn't know for certain, but I wasn't about to go around asking demiboys and demigirls what their agab was because that would've been a shitty thing to do and everybody would've assumed I was doing it for a bigoted reason. I didn't want to cut my hair at the time out of fear that it would look bad and then I'd be bullied for it, but "real transmascs" cut their hair out of their intense dysphoria that overshadows their fear of getting bullied so I must be faking it and only going by different pronouns for attention. I remembered how "dysphoric" I felt when I was 12 years old, the story of how I would try to piss standing up and how that's not really a very cis thing to do, but that all must've not been real, right? If it was real there would've been no way I was able to ignore it for this long, right? .....Right?

Fast forward to 2020, I am now 20 years old and no longer in high school. It's my last chance to get a normal haircut before covid lockdowns begin, and I decide to bite the bullet and ask for the shortest haircut I had ever gotten until that point. Everything will be locked down, if it ends up looking bad it's not like anybody is gonna see me anyway.

The result ended up being distressing to me at first, due to a combination of the shape of my face still being noticeably round and the fact that what I had been given was a "pixie cut", which I would learn is not actually a word for a "men's haircut on a woman" but is something that in fact has quite a few differences from a standard men's cut in order to make it appear more feminine.

As it grew out a little though it began to grow on me more and more, and I have always gotten a cut of a similar length every time I've gotten a haircut since. I've also been able to slowly tailor the way my hair has been cut away from the "pixie" style and towards a more masculine style by repeatedly asking the hairstylist to "keep the sideburns" and by taking pictures of my head from every angle each time I had gotten a cut that was closer to what I wanted so that I could show them to the next hairstylist.

While I still kind of wish that my face was less round, I like my hair now. I am never going back to having my hair the way it was before I turned 20.

Whenever I feel like my hair is getting too long now, even if it's not remotely close to the length that I originally grew it out and even if I had just taken a shower, it starts feeling all gross and like it's unsanitary and I want it cut immediately. Despite this though, I don't really look forward to the next time my hair is going to be cut because if it's an unfamiliar hairdresser they might see that I have boobs and decide to give me a pixie cut or cut off my sideburns or even just refuse to cut the length that I want cut off. I wish I felt like I had a better method of getting what I want across to them that didn't involve looking like an asshole customer, outing myself, or just flat out saying "I want you to make me look like a dyke". I also hate the fact that at the place where I normally get my hair cut, a men's cut is only $10 and a women's cut is a few dollars extra, and even though I'm basically asking for a men's cut guess what they charge me for it. I've thought before about no longer going out to any place to get a haircut anymore and instead just giving myself a buzzcut at home from now on, but I do like the layered look on the back of my head that a hairdresser is able to give me, which is something I can't really do at home. I wish there was some big butch lesbian covered in piercings and tattoos who I could go to who could cut my hair and just innately understand.

Something that's kind of funny now is that occasionally, when I have nightmares, in addition to the disturbing events that typically occur within nightmares I also sometimes have shoulder-length hair again within the nightmare. That's like a thing now that wasn't before.

In June of that year, I decided to come out as nonbinary and started going exclusively by they/them pronouns.

Months later I started having some more self-doubts/spiraling over whether my feelings and my dysphoria was truly "real", and it lead to me making this comic.

Afterwards, I went from using the "nonbinary" label to using the "genderfluid" label.

A couple years later, while I was spiraling pretty hard about how "genderfluid" sounds fake and how it sounds like someone tried to come up with an even more "special" version of being nonbinary and how I'm a total trender/theyfab, I decided to just drop all gender labels entirely. If going by any label was only going to cause spiraling and anxiety, I could simply forego labels all together and maybe then finally my brain would be quiet and I could have some fun, get some sleep, and get some work done. I just had "any pronouns" written on all of my online profiles during this time, and I didn't describe myself as genderfluid or nonbinary, but I didn't describe myself as cis either.

Basically I took the approach that was described in the bottom half of these tags, which I coincidentally found on the post that I saw that sparked me to make this post:

Just recently, right before I saw the post that sparked me to make this post, I decided to go back to exclusively going by they/them online.

I've started thinking more about whether or not I want to be a man, and months ago I had finally settled on the name that I would have if I ever decided to transition; Melvin. It sounds normal enough while not being too common at the same time, it would allow me to keep the same initials, and I would be naming myself after a relative. It's perfect.

I even made a new version of my fursona for if I were to take that name, just in case. And if the feeling went away again, I would always have him so I could draw and use him again if the feeling were to return again.

I had been seeing a lot of "if you've thought about taking HRT, just do it" posts, and with them I've been thinking about that time I decided to finally cut my hair. I live in New York, so I could just go to the nearest health center run by Planned Parenthood, sign an informed consent form, and just have T. I could just try T and see how it makes me feel. Then I could finally have the answer to if this is The Vitamin that I've needed for my entire adult and adolescent life.

But what if I try taking T and it doesn't cause me to feel any different? Or what if taking T causes some pandora's box of compartmentalized dysphoria to open somewhere in my brain, making me agonize over the fact that I waited too long to ever be able to pass and bringing me to kill myself?

That's until I saw that post.

I feel a sense of relief in that I am likely nowhere near being alone in my feelings and my experiences, I finally feel like I have the language to make people understand, and that I could use that language to craft a brand new label for myself that finally makes me feel like I'm real. But at the same time, I feel a sense of distress in that I don't know where exactly this places me within the queer community or whether I have any authority to speak on trans issues. Can I call myself transmasculine? Am I affected by transphobia? Am I affected by exorsexism? Does this mean medical transition is off the table for me entirely? Does this mean I should be treated as cis?

Every new political action that strips away protections for transgender people that makes the news is a trigger for this. Every post I see regarding intracommunity trans issues and the discourse surrounding it is a trigger for this.

I know that OCD is able to create this kind of obsession and uncertainty about sexuality as well, but that doesn't sound as truly being cursed to me as to have it affect one's sense of gender. If you think you might be gay but are unsure, you could always just try having gay sex and then not do it again if you didn't enjoy it. With gender, you can only do this with social transition as medical transition is irreversible, and social transition can only get you so far. There is no way to try on a different body like it's a pair of shoes. You must either take the plunge or die wondering.

Transmasculinity when you have OCD is like a Saw trap. "This could be ROGD." "This could just be internalized misogyny." "How can you tell if it's really dysphoria?" "You just want to feel special." "You are only transitioning to gain privilege." "There's at least a chance people might take your experiences with misogyny seriously if you don't transition." "You will never pass." "You will be ugly." "You're making a mockery of people who have real problems." "People like you are the ones who are most likely to regret it." "You would be mutilating yourself." "But what if one day you could look in a mirror and finally feel normal?" "Do you want to risk feeling this way for the rest of your life?"

While these questions very well may continue to haunt me for the rest of my life, some of the seemingly smaller decisions I've made while on my never-ending gender journey have genuinely improved my quality of life significantly, and will be things I will continue to do no matter if I'm trans or cis.

Buying all my clothes from the men's section is a big one; None of my shirts feel restrictively tight in the sleeves anymore, and the loose-fittedness makes them a lot more manageable sensory-wise. I no longer have to worry about whether the pants I'm looking at have pockets, and now I can count on being able to fit both my phone and my wallet in the same pocket.

Not only do I like the way I look with my shorter hair, but it makes maintaining personal hygiene so much faster and easier and now it no longer tangles or gets knotted. I take pride in my body hair and I don't waste time anymore trying to remove it in order to appease someone who would never respect me anyway who would shame me for it or tell me it's "unsanitary". My swim trunks I wear when I go swimming now look cool as hell and go well with my body hair and doesn't force me to put any focus on how it might look with my pubes sticking out like with other swimwear. The men's deodorant that I'm using now feels like it's stronger and works better than the women's deodorant that I used to use.

It doesn't bother me when my friends and immediate family members refer to me using they/them pronouns, in fact I think I still like it and will continue to let them use them. I have multiple fursonas now that I use in different contexts and connect to in different ways, and this has been great for me not only because I'm no longer forcing myself to have a more rigid sense of self but also because they can be used as an excellent mechanism to visualize my thoughts and feelings and the cognitive dissonance I may be having by depicting them interacting. I can even give them all different genders and use whatever one I feel more connected to in the moment, and I never have to think about it being something that's set in stone because I have all these other sonas.

Another issue I had that possibly could've been related to the "dysphoria" that I was experiencing other than my OCD (or possible actual gender dysphoria) is the fact that I may have some kind of medical condition or abnormality involving my reproductive organs, and it wasn't until I was 21 that I started finally being treated for it. It's most likely endometriosis since that seems the most consistent with the symptoms I was having and it's the most common one with 1 in 10 women being estimated to have it, but I don't have an official diagnosis since it requires surgery in order to diagnose and there are other differential diagnoses it could possibly be. I am now prescribed three packs of hormonal birth control in a row before taking any placebos, and this causes me to menstruate only four times a year and now I no longer experience anemia or paleness in my skin or debilitating pains that leave me unable to move when I menstruate. While I still wish I didn't menstruate at all, this has done wonders for my quality of life, needless to say. This doesn't necessarily fit into the category of decisions I've made regarding my gender presentation, but it is something that has improved my life for the better and it is somewhat relevant.

I'm aware that by making this post I'm sort of inviting transmeds, radfems, and other bad actors to say shitty things about me and try and take advantage of my psychological issues, but I've already mentally prepared myself for that while writing this post. I feel like I've developed a much healthier mindset than I used to have just a couple years ago, and that manipulation tactics that would've worked on me much more easily before aren't gonna work on me now. I don't care what anyone says about me. I just care that I've finally managed to put all of my feelings about all of this into words, that I don't have to keep all of this bottled inside me anymore, and that this may help anyone with any experiences or psychological issues remotely similar to mine feel seen.

[ahavaas]

(sometimes we wank and sometimes we play. I'm playing! yeah this is an old one, plz be sweet to @kuntya, who's having fun too, I think.)

see, I don't hate the idea of (bad ending au, sorry, I will explain) Jiang Cheng promoting Wei Wuxian to idk Necromancer Supreme of Yunmeng Jiang, dressing him up all gorgeous, pointing him at anyone who looks at them funny, and telling him to kill.

(hold on: let's contemplate that. let's think about that for a second. picture it in your minds.

okay! focus!)

see, I think the story is really clear about what happens when one supremely powerful guy tries to take over the world (he gets stibbity-stabbed. in the back. by someone he trusted. One Really Powerful Guy still has to eat, and sleep, and drink water that hasn't been poisoned by all the people who hate and fear him, y'know?) and the longer you play "I can and will kill all of you if you fuck with me," the more opportunities you create for everyone to get Really Worried, band together and wait for you to fall asleep.

should Jiang Cheng have been *looking* for an excuse to go to war maybe 1-2 years after everyone in the cultivation world finished a bloody war specifically to curbstomp the last Guy Who Was Way Stronger Than Everyone Else?

ehhhhhhhhh. *gestures vaguely* not a historian (not that this matters in discussions about Vague Fantasy China) but my general takeaway is "no".

it's a hard sell, right? "hello everyone. not being at war has been pretty fun, right? anyways. you know my shixiong? yeah, the one who keeps getting daydrunk. the one who does the necromancy that's bad for your soul and spirit. him, yeah, hahaha. he just killed a bunch of jin. without my knowledge or permission, yeah.

I mean, they were doing some fucked up shit! he was right to be pissed about it.

so we're at war with the jin now.

yeah, the largest distinct post-war population with the most money. hear me out.

if we kill em all and take their shit, WE will be the richest sect around. they're definitely doing some evil shit and they're going to be a problem in the future if we ignore it.

we can definitely do it! unstable drunk shixiong is *really good* at killing people (this is a good thing). the people he just killed (without checking in with me) definitely deserved it!

well. when the lan and the nie see us starting another war, I have to assume they will accept the righteousness of our cause and cheer us on. why would they be concerned? the last wildly powerful guy Killing 'Em All was Evil, but Wei Wuxian is Good, so. y'know. I'm sure everyone will be chill.

if they're not chill?

crazy idea! we have the moral high ground.

but in that case I guess the plan is wei wuxian will Kill All of Them too.

we're keeping it simple, stupid: we're gonna kill people until they fuck off and leave us alone. wei wuxian is *really really good* at killing people.

if something happens to him?

hahaha we might be kinda fucked, yeah.

not super clear on how the necromancy works but presumably he'll die eventually, yeah. definitely a problem for future us!

you're raising some valid questions and concerns for sure. the thing is: it's way too late for that! what's done is done! wei wuxian got (righteously) angry and made the call. we've got to deal with the situation at hand.

haha will that happen again? maybe? impossible to say! I cannot stress enough how little control I have over the unstable drunk guy who's really good at killing people for good and moral reasons! he follows his heart!

understandable. good luck out there, man."

(am I being a little goofy? sure: if you want to play with this idea, you'd probably want to focus on the existential threat posed by the power-hungry Jin commiting war crimes with impunity. you still have to play the hand you're dealt, which any way you look at it, still includes "our secret weapon is my unstable drunk (very charming!) shixiong with a heart of gold, excellent morals, and very little impulse control, and our plan is: righteous murder".)

idk again, playing-not-wanking: I just don't think any scenario where yunmeng jiang claims wei wuxian, shelters the wens, and says "wei wuxian is the fantasy equivalent of a nuke and we will let him off-leash if you fuck with us" leads to any kind of stable political situation. is it a fun idea? indubitably. is it hot? 1000%. does it work? idk man maybe you guys can square this circle, I feel like it ends badly.

Literally the main schism between me and the people who keep @-ing me is: did you believe Jiang Cheng when he said, "if you insist on protecting them, then I can't protect you"? If you think he was lying and he did in fact have the power to publicly defy every other sect in general, and Lanling Jin in specific, and still keep his promises to his own people, but he just chose not to exercise it for convenience, then yeah, he sucks

If you believed the narration when it said that the Jiang sect was in a pathetic position, and accept that Jiang Cheng was the youngest and least experienced sect leader in the room who had zero support from the other sects during that time (Nie-Jin-Lan had just entered into a brotherhood and left him out! This was way before Yanli and Zixuan got married!), then every single take from the people in the first camp is insane goblin speak and we will literally never get anywhere

[gorjee-art]

Your HofC AU is really interesting and I absolutely love it! I can't recall ever seeing an infection AU play off a curse causes by chaos ( then again maybe I just haven't looked well enough )

But I did have a question pertaining to the AU. What was the creative process like for its creation? How did you settle on your infection AU having a curse rather than a virus or parasite? Was Discord and chaos always the catalyst to the outbreak, or did it change overtime?

Sorry if I'm a bit overwhelming with this ask, but your AU is genuinely one of the only infection AU's I've felt a draw to after seeing one post about it ( wasn't even an official post by you, it was fanart! ). It probably has something to do with my frustration at the lack of Discord in infection AUs bc he kinda is the fix-all for any issue, but this ask is already long enough so I won't rant here.

Firstly! Awww...<:) Secondly, my creative process, short answer? It came to be like a bat out of hell in the middle of my sleep, and I got so pissed off at myself that I was IMMEDIATELY entranced by the idea, that I grumbled as I stomped over to my cintiq and made a quick doodle showcasing my idea of a Fluttershy with twilight's severed head (Haha mimir style how funny, i'm funny) as I passed out once again.

The long answer? Well you're right on the money when a big force is a...frustration when it comes to the lack of Discord's power both in the original show and several infection au's where his chaos magic is overlooked in infection au's. Now I'm not fully knocking it as it just might not be a narrative that the writer wants but I always felt as though Discord as even a concept in the show has a--tinge of horror in it.

His nonchalant attitude towards his ability to change the world with (quite literally) the snap of his finger, change minds of ponies and seemingly "corrupt" it (ie Discorded states, Screwball I will get to her eventually) , and mind you...give and take away limbs of ponies with a flash to stop them from "cheating" at his maze, while Celestia has to do a whole song and dance to give twilight her wings, told me that Discord is a near ancient deity, a myth, an impossibility not meant to be comprehended, but what INTERESTED ME was his childish, mortal want, to be loved.

What happens when a force of nature, the nature of entropy and chaos, wants to be human? Breaking said laws of nature to present himself as mortal for the sake of making friends. Good friends at that, (I will get to cosmos eventually), sounds like a greek tragedy to me. What happens when hades gets tired of living underground? To break the laws of nature! Is the very law of Discord, and the idea that alone would make him lose his control over his power TERRIFIES me.

I like inescapable horror, ie Junji Ito's Uzumaki, the various Silent Hills, Hereditary, and especially Darkwood, Oh god darkwood was a HUGE inspiration for this especially when it comes to how savages and creatures are formed, and I don't feel it's utilized enough in MLP grimdarks due to the influence of the famous shockhorror of cupcakes being so bloody and gruesome with--no real reason. (Now I have a big gooey massive softspot for cupcakes, as I grew up with creepypastas and looking at scary videos when I shouldn't be) thus influencing the gore aspects in alot of infection aus, BUT there's too many times in the original show alone where magic is finnicky and famously difficult to do, because of so many things that can go awry. I wanted to focus on the canon implications cause it makes me salivate cause it's begging to be lovecraftian, but it's a kids show with very cute colorful ponies praising friendship as it's one true god and it can't possibly go outside those restrictions. But i'm possibly insane, so lets go for it. Thus the rest was history

[jakeytkiszka]

No Saints

4.2k words.

warnings: enemies to lovers, yelling, crying, hurt feelings, bruised egos, talks of feelings, SMUT– 18+ ONLY, oral (m. and f. rec.), sex, dirty talk, sleeping with the boss type shit, lemme know if I missed any!

Masterlist

——————————————————————————

If someone had told you that you would be working your dream job on tour with a band, you would have laughed. And if they would've told you that you would be working backstage for Greta Van fucking Fleet, you would have laughed even harder, probably until you cried.

But here you were, running around every show like a chicken with its head cut off, ensuring the band was ready, the outfits were right, and they weren't setting something on fire.

You think your favorite was probably Sammy. All goofy jokes and late night conversations about anything and everything. Josh was always down to talk about something whimsical while you sewed the hem of his jumpsuit. Danny was just quiet, laid back and always so easy to chat with.

And Jake.

Jake was… something else.

Irritating. Arrogant and cocky. All lazy smirks and nonchalant, smart ass comebacks. He pissed you off. And with how the two of you bickered, you were surprised you hadn't been fired yet. Maybe the other three liked you enough to keep you on, overruling Jake. (Unbeknownst to you, Jake liked you just as much as they did, and there was no way in hell he'd let you get fired.)

Tonight was no different than the others, Josh was preening in the mirror, Danny was playing the drums on the coffee table, Jake was lounging on the couch like he owned the place, and you were stuck glueing Sammy's rhinestones back on. He and Daniel had decided that playing a game of ping pong– including Sam diving after the ball and practically faceplanting– was necessary for a preshow warmup.

And you were rapidly sticking the rhinestones on, shaking your head as you neared the end, “You two have got to find less raucous hobbies before the shows,” you say, hoping they weren't going on crooked.

“Sorry, Y/n,” Sammy says, smiling at you from the floor, “We're all very competitive."

“No shit,” you murmur, squinting as you stick the last one on there, “Next time, don't do that in your stage clothes.”

He grins, wordlessly letting you know– No promises. As if you expected anything less from the two.

“Aren't you bossy,” Jake murmurs from beside you on the couch.

“I'm not bossy,” you defend, shooting him a quick frown.

“Yes, you are,” he retorts.

“Shut up,” you say quietly.

“I think we should hit the bar after this,” he says loud enough for the others to hear, “I could use a night out.”

“Yeah, why not?” Josh says from the mirror, turning to the four of you, “We all could, tour's been wonderful, we should celebrate.”

“Y/n, you wanna come?”

You can practically hear Jake roll his eyes as Sam asks you, and that tempts you to take him up on his offer. But you decline, “No, I'll pass tonight,” you say softly, “I'm tired, you four are exhausting.”

“You're exhausting,” Jake retorts quietly, earning a sideways glare from you.

A stagehand pops his head into the door at that time, “Show time!” He calls, all nerves and frantic energy.

You cheer each of them on, even Jake, wishing him luck as he stands. He shoots you a wink, lazy confidence radiating from him.

You hope he messes up.

——————————————————————

Maybe you shouldn't have wished for him to mess up.

He's mad, you can see it from backstage. His guitar strap broke midshow, and when he came to get another from you, it was nowhere to be seen.

“Are you fucking serious?” He snaps, looking around you as if it might suddenly appear.

“I– Jake, I had it right here, I swear,” you defend, panic setting in. You were going to lose your job.

Suddenly, one of your peers finds another, handing it to Jake with a proud smile. Jake shoots you a look, one of frustration, before he's back out on the stage, as if this encounter never happened.

The show ends with everyone praising the success, a few side eyes thrown your way, and you feel like shit. You could cry, and you probably would if it weren't for the sake of professionalism.

“Y/n!” You turn at the sharp snap of your name, finding the production manager making his way to you. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck!

“Yes?”

“Where the fuck was his fucking guitar strap at?!” He says, stopping directly in front of you.

“I don't know where it went– I had it in his case right there before the show, and–”

“It doesn't just fucking walk away,” he interrupts, pointing a finger at you, “If you can't do your job and help this shit run smoothly, you're fucking done, do you understand?”

You don't mean to cry. But the tears are welling up faster than you can stop them. “Okay, I'll do better.”

“You will do better, you're not getting paid to fuck shit up–”

“You're not getting paid to talk to her like that.”

As if your night couldn't get worse. There's Jake, right behind you. The production manager straightens up, the anger quickly leaving his face, “I'm sorry, she just–”

“It wasn't her fault,” he says firmly, “I moved the fucking strap and forgot about it. You're not gonna talk to her that way because you're not fucking prepared.”

He nods, his face pale, “Of course. I'm sorry.”

“Don't apologize to me,” Jake says simply.

He grits his teeth, “I'm sorry, Y/n.”

You nod, unsure of what to say. And then you're left alone with Jake, the rest of the crowd quickly dispersing.

“You alright?”

You nod, turning to him as you wipe your eyes, “I'm sorry about your guitar strap, Jake. I promise I'm usually more prepared–”

“I know you are,” he says, “You don't have to apologize for anything. You're doing a great job, sweetheart.”

And just like that, he's gone.

What the fuck?

——————————————————————————

You knew they'd be hungover.

Being crowded on a tour bus with four grumpy hungover rockstars is not something you'd wish on anybody.

Sam's got his head in your lap, sunglasses over his eyes. He had demanded you play with his hair, claiming it made the headache go away. Dany was sprawled out in one of the recliners with Josh in the other, and Jake was sitting in the booth, leaning against the wall with his legs stretched out in front of him.

“I need water,” Sam says pitifully.

“I can get it,” you say automatically, knowing he wasn't asking you, but you volunteered. You gently move his head from your lap, standing to stretch your achy legs. You make your way to the fridge beside Jake, opening it and pulling out a water bottle for Sam.

You look over at Jake, “Do you need anything?” You ask, an attempt at being nice.

“I need you to leave me alone,” he retorts.

“Douchebag,” you mutter, glancing at him again, finding a smirk upon his lips.

“Next time we go out, Y/n's coming with us,” Josh says, “I think she needs to go out and have some fun.”

“I have enough fun dealing with you four,” you say, handing the water bottle off to Sam.

“That's why you're single,” Sam says offhandedly, “You won't go out and try to meet someone.”

“Fuck you, Sammy,” you mutter.

“Maybe one day,” he says with a smile, “I'm too hungover right now.”

You scoff a laugh, your eyes somehow making their way to Jake again. You catch the glare he's sending the two of you before he slips his sunglasses back over his eyes.

Jerk.

——————————————————————

“Can you maybe not fucking stab me?”

“Can you stop fucking moving, then?”

“You've got a needle right at my dick, Y/n, it's hard to trust you.”

You straighten back up, shooting a glare up at him, “Jake, I'm not gonna stab your fucking dick. But if you keep it up, I'm going to try to.”

He stares down his nose at you, a frown on his face. You cross your arms, waiting for him to comply. Rockstars.

He huffs, glancing at the clock, “Fine. I've got a show in 15 minutes. Hurry it up.”

“You're the one who ripped the crotch out of your pants,” you mutter, picking the needle back up.

“You're the seamstress right now, shut up and do your job.”

You pause at that, glancing up to see the genuine frustration on his face. You simply nod, continuing your work. You finish around two minutes later, giving him a quiet okay.

“All done,” you say flatly.

“I'm sorry,” he says in response.

“It's fine,” you shake your head, “You're right.”

“No, I'm not. You're– You're not just a fucking seamstress here, Y/n.”

“It's fine,” you say, forcing a smile as you push yourself up from off your knees, “Preshow jitters.”

He shakes his head, staying silent for a moment, “Thank you.”

You nod, “Don't mention it.”

——————————————————————————

You're irritated.

The boys decided they wanted to spend the night in a hotel.

A very shifty hotel, with a whopping two rooms available. A room with two beds and a couch, and a room with one single bed.

Josh, Sam and Danny all agreed to take the room with the couch. Which left you sharing a room– and a bed!– with Jake.

You're both standing in the doorway, staring at the bed in front of you. Jake's got irritation written all over him, his sunglasses pushed up messily into his hair, his hand gripping the handle of his suitcase a little harder than necessary. His jaw is tense, and you don't say a word.

“This should be cozy,” he says quietly.

“I can go sleep on the bus,” you offer, nervously twisting your hand around the handle of your own suitcase, “I really don't mind–”

“I'm not making you do that,” his voice is firm, “And to be quite honest, I don't wanna do that either because I'm a little selfish and I wanna sleep in a bed.”

You hum a laugh, “A bed does sound nice.”

“We're both adults,” he says, “It's… It's a pretty big bed.”

“Yeah, it's a nice size,” you agree, both of you awkwardly nodding.

And with that, he lets out a breath, making his way to the adjoining bathroom. Your shoulders slump, the tour bus sounding more enticing by the minute. You sit on the edge of the bed, and any thought you had of sneaking back out to the bus is gone. It's so comfortable, like a plush cushiony cloud.

You lay back on the mattress, letting your eyes fall shut. With a bed this comfortable, you can definitely stand spending a single night with Jake.

You don't move when the door opens back up, and you hear him snort a laugh, “Comfy?”

“Very,” you reply, “It's like a cloud. I forgot how nice a real bad feels.”

He hums in response, and you can hear him shuffling around the room. You finally push yourself up, knowing you should probably change into your pajamas before you fall asleep in your uncomfortable jeans.

You quietly go to the bathroom, ignoring the sight of Jake wearing only an old t-shirt and his underwear.

Fuck.

You change quickly, eager to get back into the bed and sleep. It'd probably be the best sleep you've gotten in weeks.

You wish your pajamas were just a little cuter, but you don't know why. Who were you trying to impress– Jake? You want to slap yourself for thinking that.

You make your way back out, finding he was still standing, doing something on his phone. You slip by without a word, the room feeling tense and awkward.

You ease under the blanket, surprised at yourself for being so happy about a sleazy hotel bed. But it was so nice. You make sure to stay on one side, facing the wall with wide eyes as you lay there. You tense slightly when you feel him move beside you, getting into the bed.

It's quiet as he flicks the lights off from the nightstand.

“This is nice,” he says softly.

You hum in agreement, scooting a little closer to the edge.

He lets out a quiet laugh, “You can relax, Y/n.”

“I am relaxed.”

“I'm sorry for what I said tonight.”

You pause, before you turn your head to look at him, “It's alright, Jake.”

“No it isn't,” he disagrees, “You're more than that and regardless of how we feel about each other, I should have never deduced you down to that.”

You want to focus on the meaning of his apology, but one part catching your attention, “And how do you feel about me?”

He sighs, “You annoy me.”

You knew he didn't like you, you knew you weren't his biggest fan either, but it wasn't something ever talked about. Hearing him say it just… hurt.

“You're always… It's like you're so fucking perfect.”

You blink, “Me?!”

“Yes, you,” he says without any heat, “Everybody fucking loves you. You're always able to fix everything, and it's just… annoying.”

You frown, processing his words, “Is that why you're mean to me?”

“Yes,” he says honestly.

“I am not perfect, Jake. Nowhere near it. You're the one with the god complex.”

“What?” He sounds surprised to hear you say that.

“Your ego is bigger than any room you're in, you know that?”

“My ego?” He pauses, “I don't have an ego.”

“Yeah, and I don't have crippling anxiety before every show.”

He doesn’t respond for a moment, as if he's surprised to discover you think he's so vain, “I've never– I'm an ass, aren't I?”

“To me? Yes. Everyone else? No.”

“I can't help it,” he says quietly, “You make me feel incompetent.”

“How?!”

“You're just… good at everything you do. It's irritating.”

“Hand me a guitar and then we'll see if you can say that.”

He laughs, the sound breathy and genuine, “It's feels like a competition with you. Everyone loves you, you're everyone's favorite.”

“But I'm not,” you say honestly, “I'm pretty sure the other crew members think I'm sleeping with one or all of you. They're not… They're not very nice.”

“Who?” He says, as if he'll go out there right now and set them all straight.

“I'm not telling,” you say firmly, “Because if you say anything, it'll look worse on me, and they'll be mean.”

“Fine.”

“Thank you.”

“Do you really think I'm arrogant?”

“Honestly?” He hums an affirmative, “Yes. It's like you know you're the best thing to happen to modern music.”

“That's a reach.”

“You asked.”

He huffs, “I'm not even– You sound jealous.”

“Jealous?!” You lean up on your elbows, glaring at him in the dark, “Says the one who just admitted that he doesn't like me because other people do.”

“Says the one who just admitted the exact same thing.”

You blink at him, “Are we ever gonna get along, or just fight the whole time?”

“I dunno,” he says, leaning up and mirroring you, “Are you ever gonna cut it with the innocent, charming little sweetheart bullshit?”

“Are you ever gonna cut it with your egotistical, arrogant, cocky asshole bullshit?”

“Y/n,” his voice is low, “Shut up.”

“You shut up. Just because you're my boss out there doesn't mean you can treat me like shit here–”

“I don't want to fight, Y/n,” he says, his words clipped, “I'm tired of it.”

“Then don't fight with me,” you say, as if it's the simplest solution.

He lets out a soft laugh, as if you caught him off guard.

“You're uptight,” he says, leaning closer to you.

“You're irresponsible.”

“You're a control freak.”

“You're frivolous.”

“You're the prettiest thing I've ever seen.”

“You're a liar.”

“I'm a lot of things, crybaby, a liar isn't one of them.”

You swallow heavily, “You're an asshole.”

He nods, his lips now brushing against yours. He uses one hand to push your blankets back as he scoots closer to you, “What else?”

You can hardly focus on your insults as he moves to hover over you, using his knees to separate your thighs for him to settle between. He's still hovering, careful not to touch you aside from the backs of your thighs resting against the front of his. “You're a fiend.”

He lets out a quiet ooh, as if he's mocking you. You frown further, your heartbeat skipping at the condescending attitude he's giving. You aren't sure why it's making your body heat.

“Keep going,” he says, leaning in and placing a single kiss to your jaw.

“You–” You cut yourself off, taking a deep breath to center yourself, but he nips at your throat, “You make me so mad.”

“Is that the best you've got?” He asks, his hand toying with the drawstring of your sleep shorts.

You let out a shuddery breath, “What, are you getting off on this?” You hate how weak your voice sounds.

“Maybe,” he says casually. You open your mouth to retort something about him being a pervert when he presses his hips against you. You can feel him even through the layers of clothing separating you, warm and hard. It makes your entire body heat. The pressure is gone as quick as it came, he lifts his hips once more as if he's teasing you.

“I've spent most of my time here feeling like I was never good enough for your expectations, Jake, and now it's this easy?”

“Imagine how I felt, Miss Perfect,” he says without any heat, “You're the only person I know who had their shit together the entire time.”

“Except for when I lost your fucking guitar strap.”

“Doesn't it get tiring thinking so much?” He asks, tracing a finger along your cheek.

“Yes,” you whisper honestly.

“Then don't,” he says, as if that will solve everything.

“You think I haven't tried that?” You ask sharply. You're silenced by his finger pressing over your lips.

“Just tonight,” he says softly, “It's just you and me. We don't think about anything else.”

You're almost hesitant, you know how impossible it is to shut your brain up, but his lips are on your neck again, like he knows that's what you need to melt into him, and you nod, “Okay.”

“Yeah?” He asks, pressing the tiniest kiss just below your jaw.

“Yeah,” you breathe the word. “But what if–”

His lips are on yours before you can finish your sentence.

You kiss back without much thought, your hands grabbing his shirt and pulling him closer. He grabs your waist, yanking you tightly to him. He runs his tongue along your bottom lip before he bites down, earning a quiet whine from you. Your hands slide up, around his shoulders, pulling him practically on top of you as you move to lay on your back.

His hand lands beside your head on the pillow, the other is still holding onto your waist, slipping down to your hip. His hold is tight, like he wants to grab you and have his way with you. And you want him to.

You let your legs fall open as he settles between them. You nearly buck your hips as he moves his lips to your throat. You let your head fall back as he kisses and nips at your throat, your mouth open with gasping breaths and whimpers.

Then suddenly, his hips are pressing against yours, grinding against you as he kisses along your skin. His lips reattach to yours, and you let out a dreamy sigh as he moves just right against your clit.

His hand appears at the waistband of your pajama shorts, snapping the elastic, “Wanna get these out of the way?”

You nod quickly, a breathy yes falling from your lips. Your eyes widen only a little when he pulls off your shorts and underwear in one quick movement, leaving your lower half completely bare. And when he presses himself against you this time– Oh. The somewhat rough material moving against your swollen clit feels better than you thought it would.

He kisses you again, a quick nip at your bottom lip, before he pulls back just enough to watch as he moves you against him.

You bite at your bottom lip as he spreads your thighs, almost hoping he can't see too much of you in the dim lighting.

He ghosts his hand over your dripping heat, “Is she as pretty as the rest of you, baby?”

“Shut up, Jake,” you say weakly.

And then he's moving back. You open your mouth to ask him what he's doing, when he grabs you, moving you however he wanted. Your eyes widen when you find yourself with your legs spread around his shoulders, and his face inches away from your center.

“She is fuckin’ pretty,” he says, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh, “You've been holding out on me.”

“Oh, my God,” you whisper, dropping your head against the mattress. “Are you sure you want to do– that?” You ask, lifting your head back up to look at him.

“What kind of men have you been with?” He asks, running a single finger along your wet heat.

“I– I dunno,” you stutter, cursing yourself mentally.

He hums in displeasure, using his fingers to spread you open. You hate how he takes a moment to stare at you, to take in every detail of your most intimate areas, but he mutters a quiet curse, and his mouth is on you before you can object to his staring.

You let out a much too loud noise, slapping your hand over your mouth as he smiles against you. He pulls back enough just to speak, “Gotta be quiet, sweetheart, we don't want my brothers hearing you.”

You nod rapidly, keeping your hand over your mouth as he suckles at your clit. He lulls his tongue over the swollen bud, before he moves down to your weeping hole. Your eyes squeeze shut as his tongue slips just past the entrance, humming against you.

He grabs your hand, moving it into his hair, groaning when you tighten your grip. You're embarrassingly close, and the moment he eases his fingers inside of you, you know you're a goner within the next two minutes.

You whine his name, hating how pathetic you sound. He curls his fingers up in response, his tongue flicking over your clit relentlessly. “I'm close,” you warn, rolling your hips. You roll your hips on your own, feeling yourself near your own release. It wouldn't take much longer, and you whisper his name in hopes he'll help you along.

“Gonna cum so soon?” He asks, his hands on your hips stilling you completely.

You whine, fighting to move over his mouth once again. “Jake–”

“Use those pretty manners,” he says lowly, “Always so well behaved, don't act up now.”

“Jake please,” you say, huffing when he slowly, slowly, licks along your slit, “Jake help me, please.”

He hums in consideration, pushing back only to slowly drag his tongue once again, “Little more than that, crybaby.”

You feel yourself clench around nothing. The nickname he has for you making an appearance now has you aching. “Please let me,” you tighten your grip in his hair, “Make me cum, Jake.”

That seems to do it for him, his own hand slips back between the two of you. He pushes two fingers inside of you, curling them up before he begins fucking them into you, curling and twisting relentlessly. His tongue is moving just right against your clit, and you begin rocking against him, whimpering a soft curse.

It doesn't take long before you're falling apart, soft cries and your body twitching as he works you through it. Your blood is rushing in your head, and you can barely make out the filthy words he's gritting out as you ride out your release.

You grab at him, melting completely when he eases up, letting you recover. Before he can say anything, you push him back with a hand at his chest, and you slip to the floor on your knees. He lets out a low hum, moving to stand in front of you.

You decide not to take your time, not to work him up or tease him, you just want his dick in your mouth.

So you all but tear his underwear down, your mouth watering at the sight before you. He was big. Long and thick and hard, you should have expected that. You wrap your fingers around him, and swallow him down as far as you can without any preamble.

He lets out a quiet curse, his hand immediately tangling into your hair, “She does look pretty with a cock in her mouth,” he says quietly, as if you weren't meant to hear it. You both know well enough that you were meant to.

It doesn't last long before he's got a hold in your hair, and his other hand is around your throat.

He begins shallowly moving his hips, holding your face in place as he fucks your mouth. You would be content to let him do this to you as much as he wanted. And part of you wanted to try this right after you had pissed him off…

You can't move your head, so you work your tongue along him as best you can, suckling at him with every thrust. He pushes in, the blunt head nestling deep against the back of your throat again. He holds you down on him long enough for you to get dizzy, before he pulls out completely.

He angles your face up once again, his hand on your throat giving a light squeeze as he keeps you still. You're still held there, awaiting his next move.

“Get on the bed,” he says, moving his hands to help you get up off of your knees.

You eagerly move to the bed once more, your heart pounding as he rids himself completely of his underwear. He grabs you, flipping you around so you're in his lap before you can process it. He's leaned back against the headboard, his hands at your waist and he's kissing you again.

You roll your hips, anxious to have him fill you up already.

He wraps an arm around your waist, lifting you up just enough for him to line up with your weeping entrance. When you settle back over him, your eyes widen. He lets out a low growl as you lower down on him, your eyes wide at the fullness. He feels huge inside of you, stretching your walls, sitting snug against that special little bump inside of you.

“Fuck, Jake,” you say, letting your head fall to his shoulder.

His hands are tracing soothing patterns on your hips, his head falls back against the headboard as he lets out a strained laugh.

You begin rocking your hips, slowly, just to get a feel of how fucked you really were. His grip tightens as he lifts you up slightly, before pushing you back down on him.

You whimper, feeling every bit of him inside of you. You continue to rock your hips as he moves you up and down. You feel full in the best way, unable to even form a coherent sentence aside from telling him how good he felt.

He stops moving you, leaving you to do the work on your own, “C'mon,” he says it like a challenge, “Fuck me, pretty girl.”

You let out a slightly irritated sound, doing as he says regardless. You lift your hips, easing back down at a slow, hopefully teasing pace.

You're gripping his shoulders for dear life, your temple resting against his jaw as you move your hips. His mouth is right by your ear, leaving you no escape from the filthy things he's murmuring.

“Just like that,” he rasps, “Such a good girl– Always so good at doing what you're told, aren't you?”

You feel yourself clench around him, and you gasp out a weak, “Fuck you.”

You feel him grin against your skin, “You are.”

You whine at that, digging your nails into his shoulders. His grip on your hips is firm, his fingertips pressing in enough for you to hope for bruises.

Your thighs burn, but you ignore it in favor of chasing your high. It's just out of arm's reach, and you know you'll need his help or your own. And you'd rather die of humiliation than ask him, so you snake a hand down to your clit, just barely rubbing over it before he knocks your hand away.

Before you can do much as whine about it, he's replaced your hand with his own, rubbing tight, slow circles over your aching bud.

“I'm gonna cum,” you warn, your hips moving of their own volition, speeding up despite your aching thighs.

“I know,” he says, still holding you by your hair, his eyes intently focusing on your face, “I can feel it.”

“Fuck, I'm–” It's slipping away from you, your own body too tired to continue working as you were.

He begins fucking up into you, his own hips slamming against you as he continues to rub over your clit. Your entire body is shaking, the build up starting right back up where it left off.

You whine his name, earning a sound nearing a growl from him. “C'mon, baby,” he demands, an air of desperation in his tone. He wants you to finish, to feel you squeezing him as you fall apart around him. And that's what does it for you.

It hits you hard and fast, even more intense than all the other he'd given you that night. Your mind blanks, going black, before flashing white hot. You try to push him away again, the attempt feeble as he wraps his arms around you and pushes you back against the mattress, fucking you relentlessly through it. You don't complain, you couldn't even if you wanted to, you know he's chasing his own orgasm as well as working you completely through yours.

“Fuck, Jake–” It's intense, you're verging overstimulation, but you wrap your legs around him. Your eyes are watering, tears trailing down your temples and into your hairline.

He lets out a pleased hum, “My little crybaby. Does it feel good for you, pretty girl?”

You nod quickly, your nails digging into his back. You know he's going to be marked up, but you know you are too. His mouth has been as relentless as his cock.

It doesn't take him much longer before he lets out a curse, and his hips falter. You whine in approval as he grips your hips tighter than before, and you squeeze purposely around him as he finds his own end. You let out a soft yes, yes, yes, as he fills you with his release.

He stays still inside you for a moment, leaning over you and pressing kisses to your sweat-sticky skin.

You feel empty when he pulls out, cold and lonely as he collapses onto the mattress. Your chest is heaving as he moves to lay beside you, his own chest rising and falling as he fights to catch his breath.

It hits you then.

You just fucked your boss.

You push yourself up with shaky arms, raking a hand through your knotted hair.

“Jake.”

“Stop,” he says softly.

You look over at him, worry clear on your face, “I just–”

“You're thinking too much.” He says, pulling you back down to lay against him. He wraps an arm around you, “It's gonna be fine.”

“Am I gonna lose my job?”

He lets out a loud laugh, “You're not going anywhere.”