#writing with my packer

[batmasc]

You're so excited to have a girlfriend, so excited when she asks you to stay the night. When you ask her if she's ever been with a girl, she looks at you funny, but you brush it off. She's gorgeous, you love touching her, but when you have sex with anyone, something always feels off. You don't think too much of it.

When you're finally asleep, her bedside table slides open. She slips on gloves and grins to herself as she fills a syringe with a dose of testosterone. She's been longing for this moment ever since you started dating. She pinches your soft skin ever so slightly and plunges the needle in, and kisses the spot after the injection. It's a good thing you're so tired out tonight.

A few weeks pass, you don't notice anything different at first. But you feel a bit sweatier, and hornier than you've ever been. One night you reach down to touch yourself and are perplexed. Instead of a small bundle of nerves there's a hard nub there. You wonder if you should see a doctor.

Next time you see your girlfriend, she looks at you knowingly and you're not sure why. She kisses you fervently and pulls you into bed, whispering "Come on, loverboy." Maybe It was just a slip of the tongue, something about it gives you goosebumps. "Let me see that cock-"

Before you can ask, she's got her lips wrapped around your growing appendage, making you cry out. "Hold on, I'm confused-"

"Take it like a big boy, baby" she murmurs against your molten skin. You don't have it in you to argue, you're mortified that she's about to make you orgasm. And then she kisses you, hard. "See how you taste now? Just like a man should. You're taking to treatment so quickly. "

"Treatment?"

"Just a little pinch every week and you're growing a nice cock for me, and I can smell your musk and desire. Soon you'll be my perfect boyfriend. I don't think you should go home in the morning. I want to see you change, every hour, every second. "

As if under a spell, you can't find it in yourself to deny her.

[whirlybirdwhat]

would be writing fic rn but my 130 lb dog is on my lap and i love him. forgive me world but some loves are greater than others and i must submit to their power

[nudibutch]

asking this as a fellow stone with some questions about where that comes from personally. are there things you like doing or imagining on your own but don’t like in practice, or are you stone in most of your fantasies, too? for me I only respond in a stone way when I’m with someone. on my own I like and imagine plenty that I can’t enjoy so don’t really want when I’m with a partner

more the former, like 60/40 or 75/25 (most of my fantasies involve things im not comfortable with with someone else, some of them are stone-specific). there are things i like fantasizing about on my own, but when it comes to in practice i am definitely not as comfortable with it. although i have capital D fully Divested with partners i trust, it takes a LONG time for me to get there (like well over a year), its usually a once-only or extremely rare event, and i havent let anyone touch me intimately or penetrate me in about 5 years (save for my pap smears, lol). i feel like with the right person i could explore that again, but it would take a monumental amount of trust. i think my brain is conditioned to "youre disappointing someone when you say no to this specifically" and i would need a lot of support if i ended up still not liking it.

i also think a lot of it is connected to the fact that ive only recently been touched or interacted with in a way that i DO like, so my body in general is extremely unpracticed/inexperienced with connecting my pleasure to my physicality. i dont think this is a cure-all by any means, but i have a feeling that if i got to a point of trust with someone to be able to do that more often, i think my body would respond very differently than it has in the past.

[discountbottom]

Oh god I think my egg cracked in a taco bell bathroom

[nolinno-art]

I've developed mathematics for a non-human mind, for my comic "The book written by tiny paws"

Sapient distant descendants of rats, known as packers, living on Earth millions of years after the extinction of humans, began to develop mathematics using cognitive mechanisms never intended for such tasks. Due to an evolutionary quirk, multiplication came more naturally to them than addition, and their mathematics reflects this.

Packers write numbers as shapes, with each number having a corresponding number of corners.

And they write large numbers as nested shapes. The number inside is multiplied by the number outside.

Examples of some numbers:

Packers haven't invented 0 yet. They haven't even invented 1! In fact, they don’t need the concept of "one" much in their system. There's no need to say "I ate one fish" when they can simply say "I ate fish".

Packers can't yet write large prime numbers, like 101 or 10,501, because they would have to draw a huge shape to represent them! Even writing 17 or 19 would be quite difficult if they only used convex shapes.

So packers use non-convex shapes too!

Many years later, some packer noticed that large prime numbers look suspiciously symmetric.

So this packer improved the notation system and made it clearer.

Later, another packer simplified this system even more, deciding that there was no point in writing the same shapes twice.

This packer was the first in their culture to declare that "a dot isolated from a number" should also be considered a number. The packer called this dot "the wonderful number that's less than two".

Many years later, another packer made an important innovation: the "dot isolation" could be repeated multiple times as long as the result remained odd. When the result became even, it could undergo a "two isolation" (division by two). The final result will be a series of dots and twos.

This invention led to the creation of a binary system based on one and two, which had a significant impact on the technological advancement of packers.

The comic "the book written by tiny paws" talks about all of this in more detail. There will be mistakes, debates, the invention of rational, irrational, multivariate numbers, and some other stuff. Some stuff will be very much like human math, and some will be different. After all, math is still math, only the point of view has changed.

[sortanonymous]

I wonder if any kids these days watching Sunday Night Football see the Walmart+ 4K SkyCam parts and think that it's not just sponsorship, but that you can actually buy a 4K SkyCam at Walmart through Walmart+ just like the one they use on NBC. Cue inevitable disappointment when they can't find them at the local Walmart, lack of subscription be darned.

[radiance1]

The Justice League gathered tips about how the cult of the Black Flame kidnapped people and was deciding to use them as a sacrifice to their deity in pursuit of their goals.

They burst through the door, hoping the people weren't killed yet.

They got there too late, however. The circle was already drawn, the magic power already circulating within it and the chanting already done, the group of sacrifices bound up off to the side.

Sweltering heat bloomed from the circle, easily enveloping the entire room and causing everyone to wince, even the likes of Superman and Wonder Woman.

A pillar of rotating, black flame expanded from the circle to the room of the warehouse, with small embers of black descending to the floor. Constantine shouted at the Justice League to get away from them, because even those small embers he could see were loaded with power that would bloody burn the unaware to a crisp.

(Not that he needed to warn them, Vlad has perfected his entrance in such a way where it's showy, dramatic and yet mostly harmless.)

Large, fiery wings slowly expanded from the pillar of fire, stretching slowly, as if moving through water, red eyes flashed from within the pillar of fire before the wings snapped to their full, impressive might. Exploding the pillar of fire in the process and scattering embers all throughout the room and leaving behind the creature that was contained within.

The creature, Duke of the Black Flame, slowly pulled its wings back to its body, before glancing over the people in the room, most shivered under his gaze, if they lacked the willpower to resist it. Before the entirety of said gaze was laid full on the, now trembling, cultist below.

"Servant." The Duke of the Black Flame said the word slowly, as if tasting the word along with the man's fear. "State your wish."

"Y-yes, my lord!" The cultist waved over at the cultist nearest to the group of sacrifices, practically whispering curses under his breath for him to hurry up and bring them over. He then looked back up at the duke, before bowing his head to escape from its narrowed gaze. "My lord, please accept this group of innocent souls in exchange for us to serve you as you cleanse this wretched world!"

A moment.

Everyone held their breaths as the silence dragged, the Duke of the Black Flame's gaze narrowed as he took his time in consideration, no one could tell what was going through the god's(?) mind before he spoke.

"Denied."

Shock ran through the cultists, the kidnapped group breathing out a sigh of relief. "B-but my lord! This is-"

"Does a mere servant dare to assume what I would want?" The duke asked calmly, head raised, and gaze narrowed, as if daring the cultist to continue speaking. The cultists hurriedly shook his head.

"I wouldn't dare my lord!"

The duke simply stared down at the cultist, before speaking once more. "Now, the requirement for wasting my time."

"Re-Requirements...?" A nearby cultist asked.

The duke tilted his head slightly, gazing homing in on the one who spook. "Yes, the requirement. For wasting my time, you do have it, do you not?"

The cultists broke out in a cold sweat from fear as the silence dragged spoke its answer. The duke's gaze narrowed intensely as the heat surrounding them practically doubled under his gaze.

"How disappointing." It was a simple sentence, but a sentence that held weight as from within the circle, black flames spilled from the circle, moving slowly as if it were in no rush, and surrounded the cultists- and by extension, the hostages.

"M-my lord!" The lead cultist shouted in fear, backing away from the flames that slowly closed in on them.

Batman stepped forward, Constantine moving to stop him before being silenced by a glare. Batman kept moving, walking across the room slowly, no fear visible in his body language as he passed through the flames and stepped in front of the otherworldly entity.

The duke tilted its head in the Dark Knight's direction, before fixing him with the full weight of his stare, to which the knight simply stared back.

The silence stretched, before Batman slowly reached for his utility belt, everyone else tensing in preparation for a fight to be enacted. But the Dark Knight surprised them as he instead held up something they couldn't see.

The duke bent down in curiosity, his height towering over the knight and making him seem like a child in comparison before, for the first time in this encounter, did his breath hitch.

"Is that...?" The Duke of the Black Flame probed with a hopeful glimmer in his voice.

Batman nodded. "It is."

The phoenix closed its eyes, before standing back up to its full height. "What is it you wish for, child of man?"

"Help us defend earth." The Dark Knight stated simply.

The duke stared at him in silence, causing everyone to tense under the silence.

"Of course, only with stuff we would actually need you for." Constantine chimed in, walking forward as well and stand next to the Dark Knight, who glanced at him, and Constantine sent a small scowl his direction in response.

The duke hummed, as a green vulture with a red fez on its head slowly molded itself from the summoning circle and stepped forward, holding out a wing to the Dark Knight.

The Dark Knight placed the item in the flame servant's hand, and Constantine stared incredulously at what was exchanged.

Seasonal passes to every Packers for what looked like thirty years.

The phoenix glared down at the vulture beneath it lightly. "Under that with the utmost of care that you are capable of, or so help me."

The vulture nodded, before dipping back to whence it came.

The phoenix's eyes that moved itself back to the two men and nodded. "Very well, I accept your request, and am most pleased with your sacrifice."

The phoenix raised its wings, the flames moving back within the circle and instead, rising in a pillar of flame that utterly consumed the being, a last flash of glowing red eyes before it disappeared.

Silence descended into the room, before everyone slowly turned to look at Batman.

"I know his nephew."

And that was the Dark Knight was willing to explain, before punching the cultist nearest to him.

There was a dragon in their fountain.

A giant eastern dragon in their fountain.

Most of its body is in the fountain, but a good portion of it is just resting on the ground.

Were they supposed to just, leave it there or make it shoo.

Tim didn't know, neither did Dick.

It was beautiful, scales a glowing white and a mane that looked incredibly soft, even from where they were standing.

Again, there was a dragon in their fountain. A beautiful dragon, but a dragon nonetheless.

Alfred, the unconcerned, professional, most unphased man, just, walked over to it, give it sass for growling at him, and then asked if it would like to soak in the pool instead.

And the damn thing agreed to it too.

--

Danny fucking hated the aftermath of his fights with Vlad, sure, the phoenix never tried to actually kill him or anything, but the heat just does not do it for him.

At least the fucker himself is gonna be uncomfortable from the cold.

Danny just wanted to navigate to the Far Frozen to recover from the heat, alright. Of course it would be too much to ask, because next them he knew he ran into a portal and plopped down onto some rich person's lawn.

And then took over said rich person's fountain, it was big enough for a good amount of his body at least, so he just went why the fuck not.

Then some butler came over to him, gave him of all people fucking sass, and asked him if he wanted to soak in the pool instead.

So of course, he got to the moving to said pool.

[st-dionysus]

(The Poem is named) Emetophobia CW

It’s 2024 and I’m in a 20 year old drag bar, watching the very first trans-masculine performer to compete on their stage, he gets second place even though he deserved first.

I show up to the men’s bathhouse on trans night to get free entry and get turned away at the door, and told it’s for transgirls only, bitch you could have put it on the flyer that transmen need not apply.

I’m doing a line of ketamine off the table, calling it stealing transfem valor.

I get banned from the camsite for listing myself as transgender when I don’t have a dick, I complain online and get told that the trans-masculine body is to grotesque to be fetishized and I should be grateful.

I wear a packer and hitch up a skirt, walk the street, get $20, calling it stealing transfem valor.

Cissie puts a TW #body-mutilation tag under my thirst trap. Tranny puts a TW #dysphoria tag under my thirst trap.

T-girl with a callout post pedojackets me, Enby with TME in bio pedojackets me, T-boy with a self-deprecating joke about men in his bio pedojackets me.

I do another line of ketamine off the table, calling it stealing transfem valor.

I am at the woman’s clinic, I am at the woman’s clinic, I am at the woman’s clinic wearing a mask – not cause I’m compromised (I am), just to hide my beard – avoiding making everyone uncomfortable.

I am getting re-diagnosed with BPD, which just means I have bitch disorder and no one trusts me.

I take my pills and throw them up. I drink my liquor before the beer and throw them up.

I am just 14 when the picture and videos go up. Remind me that I have it easy, they were only pictures and videos.

I am just 17 when the recording of my proof stops before it happens, my phone memory is full, I’m called a liar and now I can’t see buttered crackers, thanksgiving, or sriracha sauce without wanting to kill myself.

No one gets me therapy, but they still want to convert me, she puts her hands down my pants, at least I’m 19, to remind me I’m a woman – tell me how they love trans men again.

I do a third line of ketamine off the table, realize it doesn’t effect me, calling it stealing transfem valor.

I call myself a dog, I start biting my lovers and I have to hold back from ripping out a chunk of flesh, I don’t think I’d throw it up.

I am reading the statistics, 40% of BPD patients try and kill themselves. 1 in 2 transgender men try and kill themselves. I’m one of them. I’m 12 and I swallowed all the pills. I’m 14 and the gun is empty. I’m 17 and I put the box-opener against my throat. Therapist calls me a liar, there is no scar, and my words don’t count for anything.

I’m using he/him pronouns for Stormé DeLarverie, like the stonewall veteran association said to, and telling you he started the riot, calling it stealing transfem valor from a woman who told you she didn’t fucking do it.

I’m shoving my fingers down my throat in a fit of mania, convinced I can vomit up my uterus. She tells me I should be grateful, she’d do anything to be able to get pregnant.

My brother in the struggle gets bottom surgery without top, calling it stealing transfem valor to feel comfortable in his body.

It’s 2024 and I’m at trans pride, the announcers tells everyone to give a round of applause for trans woman, a round of applause for gender-queers, a round of applause for transfems, a round of applause for the enbies, a round of applause for trans-masculine people. You forgot someone. Did you know a trans man started the first ever transgender pride parade?

A book on queer history talks about gay men and lesbians and trans women and the women who dressed as men for better job opportunities. I’m reminded that my invisibility is a privilege, if you aren’t seen you don’t get bashed.

I’m 13 and they throw me in the girls bathroom, pin me down, beat me, and in black sharpie write “dyke”, write “tranny”, write “lesbo”, and pull my hair out the cap I shoved it in.

I’m 19 with D cups that a binder can’t hide and a beard I refuse to shave less I break the mirror and kill myself with the shards of glass I would swallow.

Man at the bus stop calls me tranny and tells me I’ll never be a woman. I’d laugh if he didn’t have his hand on my throat. Calling it stealing transfem valor.

I’m 21 and have to pull a taser on him, cause from the back, even with short hair and top surgery, I look rape-able.

I’m 23 and in the gay district when they chase me down the street, calling me faggot.

Make another forcemasc post, calling it stealing transfem valor.

Read an article about a trans man prostitute that kills himself and ends up another female statistic.

Read an article about a trans man shooter, they blame the HRT he didn’t have access too.

Going to read a callout about me, five pages on Google Docs, does this post make it on the list?

Do a final line of ketamine, write the final line of a poem that makes me want to die, calling it stealing transfem valor.

I puke and miss the toilet.

[batmasc]

Have you ever seen those videos of two dudes on a couch. And they're a little bored. So their hands wander to their pants.

Thinking about that, with a tguy that's not asserting his masculinity yet, maybe he's too afraid upset people by correcting people about who he is. He's hanging out with a frat boy, watching some movie that's fading into the background while he wonders what this guy thinks of him. Tguy's thoughts are pierced through when he hears his buddy groan "Dude, she's so fucking hot, right?" He’s only vaguely looking at the screen, mumbling in agreement.

"I'd love to hit that-" His friend says. The verbiage might have repulsed him but he quickly reckons with the fact that he's sitting with a himbo frat boy, and he's being talked to like one of the guys. Frat boy is lazily running his palm over his gray sweats.

"What're you up to there?" Tguy feels like such a goober for asking, but he's not sure.

Fratboy laughs and continues. "Cmon, we're both dudes here. You never been down bad watching a movie? " Tboy gulps and watches the sweats slip down. "You're a big boy, you know where the door is."

Tguy is ashamed at the pace in which his confusion is turning into arousal. No one has ever talked to him this way. Not long ago, he'd wondered if it was worth transitioning when he was only rewarded for femininity. He's glad he didn't listen to those fears now. His brain is shutting off and he's melting, he only needs to listen to Fratboy right now.

"I take it you're staying. It would be weird if I'm the only one rubbing one out, you know?" Tboy slowly works his way out of his jeans and hopes the dampness on his boxers isn't too obvious. He hesitantly feels around under the slick fabric and finds himself throbbing. Just when his brain almost comes online again with worry, his friend pulls himself out, leaning back on the couch carefree and displaying himself. This time, fratboy looks over and down. He's not hiding his attempts to see through the fabric. He's licking his lips and grunts "You've got more hair down there than me and your thighs are sick, you're a fucking beast, man. In a good way. "

Tguy can't help but shudder at this. He was never encouraged to take pride in these things, but he sees the untamed lust it gives his acquaintance. Fratboy isn't even watching the movie anymore when Tguy pulls down his boxers. He strokes himself with his fingers, tugging like Fratboy does. "I can't even say no homo to this man, but your small dick is so hot. Anyone would fuckin' drool for it. I've never been with a guy but, Dude- I need you to fuck me like a man. "

[willowsnook]

Let me in

Hi! Love your idea for a prompt list. Can I order: A turkey swiss on wheat bread, maybe mike’s way if you feel like it’s fitting for the sandwich?

Joe burrow x bsf!reader

Please don’t leave

—-----------------------------------------

Fall in Cincinnati was something that you loved. The trees changed colors, you could start leaving your windows open, and, of course, Bengals football. Now, you’d never claim that you were a die-hard fan, that was still reserved for your beloved Green Bay Packers, but after 5 years in the city, they were a solid 2nd favorite. Plus, being good friends with the starting quarterback meant you had to root for them. 

You met Joe at a charity event a year after you moved to Ohio. Working for a Cincinnati-specific lifestyle magazine, your recommendations and reviews had made you quite well known in the city. Your strategy was always finding small, hidden gem places, usually family-owned, to review and elevate. This fulfilled your need to make a difference and also get paid to eat food. 

While your job was so public and in the spotlight, you were pretty introverted, which surprised a lot of people. You didn’t necessarily enjoy being the center of attention, focusing more on making those around you shine. This meant that while you were appreciative of being recognized by the community, you hated going to big events; you’d much rather just be writing about them. 

So when the introverted star of Cincinnati joined you in the shadows of an event, the two of you hit it off. Knowing who you were, his PR team had noticed and pitched a content series involving Joe. You spent a whole day with him, going to places he recommended and giving instant reviews. Initially, you were worried about it being awkward because you didn’t know him well, but you both had a blast. Joe was easy to talk to, and he liked that you treated him like anyone else. 

After that, he’d invited you to hang out with his friends several times, and Ja’marr really liked you, insisting that you be added to the friend group. Since then, you’d spent the last couple of years being forced to go to every home Bengals game, but you could also easily force one of them to help you with some kind of content for work. A mutually beneficial friendship you thought. 

Midway through the week, you were back at your apartment, taking pictures of some cookies someone sent you to be considered for an upcoming article you were writing. You snapped the perfect picture just as your phone rang, and you looked over to see it was Joe calling. 

“What’s up?” You said, putting the phone on speaker. 

“I’m bored. Can I come hang?” He asked. 

“Yeah, I’m doing some work, but I’ll be done soon.”

“Okay, I’m on my way.” 

You were used to Joe calling you randomly to hang out, especially when the season was going poorly. One thing you learned in your years of friendship with him was that he didn’t like to be alone, mostly so he didn’t spiral thinking about everything. You were happy to be a friend he could lean on. 

15 minutes later, you heard your front door open and smiled as Joe wandered into the kitchen. He gave you a small squeeze from behind as you leaned over your laptop. 

“Are you doing anything with these?” He asked, and you looked over at the cookies. 

“No, I just got done. Have at it,” you replied, amused as he shoveled one into his mouth. 

“These are pretty good,” he said, swallowing. “But I’ve had better.”

“Hmm,” you thought. “What don’t you like about them?”

“Too grainy,” he said, and you agreed, unable to think of what you were feeling. 

“That’s a good point; I’m using that,” you said, typing it down in your notes. 

“Watch out, I’m going to steal your job,” he joked, and you smirked. 

“Does that mean I get yours?”

“You’d probably do a better job than me right now,” he said, and you frowned, shutting your laptop. 

“You are still a superstar, even when you lose,” you told him earnestly, getting a small smile from him. 

“I think I need you with a headset on to tell me that during the games,” he said, and you laughed. 

“Yeah yeah,” you replied, blushing. “Want to take a walk or something? I need to get out of the house.” 

“Yeah, let’s go.”

The two of you walked down the street and ventured towards the water, chatting about upcoming events and his family coming to visit. You started to get chilly and held your arms briefly before Joe noticed. He pulled his hoodie off with one hand and handed it to you, not even stopping what he was saying. You pulled it on, inhaled the lingering cologne, and sighed. 

“Will you come to dinner with us tomorrow night?” he asked, jolting you back to reality.

“With your parents?” you asked, and he nodded. “Would that not be a little weird?”

“Why would it be weird?” 

“I don't know. I just wouldn’t want them to think we were dating or anything,” you said, confused. Joe frowned at that, but you didn’t have time to analyze it. 

“Ja’marr is coming too,” he said. “You are both my best friends, so I’d like you to meet them.” 

“Okay, if it’s important to you,” you agreed, giving in. Dinner with Joe’s parents. Huh. Sometimes you really didn’t understand why he chose you as a best friend when many people were fighting over it. If only people knew how clingy Mr. Cool was. 

—---------------------------------------------------

Ja’Marr picked you up from your place the next night and the two of you headed to dinner. 

“You look nice,” he commented, and you smiled. You and Ja’Marr had a flirty relationship, but nothing had ever come of it. One time, when you were both very drunk in the offseason, you had made out but it didn’t last long with him backing out, saying that Joe was going to kill him. You had just assumed that Joe didn’t want anyone in the friend group dating in case it got messy, which was understandable. With Ja’marr, you were mostly just attracted to him vs. wanting something more. 

“I still feel weird about this whole thing,” you admitted to him and he gave you a lazy smirk. 

“Please, they’ll love you,” he assured you. 

“That’s not what I’m worried about; I’m amazing,” you said, causing him to laugh. “I just think it’s weird and intimate. Like if my parents were in town, yeah, maybe I wouldn’t mind them meeting you guys at the game or to celebrate in a group after. But I wouldn’t invite you for a small dinner.” 

Ja’Marr gave you a look you couldn’t decipher before laughing to himself. 

“I’ll try not to take offense to that,” he said and you rolled your eyes. 

The restaurant was a nicer one that you had been to before for work. Joe’s parents stood up as you approached the table and warmly greeted you. His mom pulled you into a tight hug, laughing about how excited she was to meet you finally. You shot Ja’Marr a look and found him trying not to laugh. You could tell Joe was embarrassed, which made the situation a little amusing. 

Sitting down beside him, he gave you an easy smile while handing you the drink menu. Joe’s dad jumped into conversation with Ja’Marr about the season while Robin asked you a ton of questions about your job and basically your whole life. You ended up loving his parents; they were the sweetest people. While you might have missed the way that Joe was looking at you the whole dinner, his parents definitely did not. 

“It was so good to meet you y/n,” Robin gushed. “I’m sure we’ll see much more of you in the future.” 

You smiled, confused, while Ja’Marr couldn’t hold back his laugh. Joe’s face turned bright red and his dad chuckled. 

—------------------------------------------------

If you had thought the season was going poorly before it was a million times worse now. It seemed like each week, your two friends were putting up superstar numbers but still losing. After watching them lose by just a point to the Ravens, you clicked the TV off and sighed. Reaching for your phone you texted him a white heart and watched him read it and not reply. He usually would, even after a loss, but this one was tough so you didn’t pay much mind to it. 

As the week went on, you started to feel Joe’s tension about the team bleed into your friendship. He wasn’t answering your calls and had replied to any text you had sent him with just one word. What had really pissed you off though, was that he was supposed to shoot a Thanksgiving promo with you about places that provided free food for those who needed it and he didn’t show. 

“I get that you’re having a tough time right now and while I can live with you being a bad friend I can’t live with you 1. making me look bad professionally and 2. disappointing people making a difference. So give me a call when you figure your shit out,” you ranted to his voicemail. 

You were supposed to fly out for the game this weekend but weren’t sure if you still should. Calling Ja’Marr, you complained about Joe being a dick and that you didn’t know what to do. He assured you that you should still come and that Joe was just hurting because of the season. The best thing you could do was be there for him, even in the shadows. 

The game started out horribly with it being 24-6 leading into halftime. But a different team came out in the third quarter, and you went crazy as the Bengals got ahead. But like the week before, no matter what Joe did, even throwing for over 350 yards, they still lost in the end. You lingered by the locker room after the game and smiled sadly as you saw Ja’Marr first. He wrapped you in a hug, and he was happy to have you there. Joe on the other hand, did not look happy to see you. 

“What are you doing here?” he said coldly, and both you and Ja’Marr flinched. His teammate gave him a weird look, but Joe was just staring at you blankly. 

“I’ve had these tickets since before the season, you know that,” you replied. 

“I didn’t want you to come,” he said and you tried to ignore the hurt you felt. “Did you not get the hint from me ignoring you all week?” 

“Oh, so is that why you stood up the charity?” You bit back. “So that I would ‘get the hint’?”

Joe didn’t say anything, clenching his jaw and Ja’Marr tried to step in. 

“I wanted her to come man,” he said and Joe snapped his head towards his friend. 

“Well just fuck her then and get over it,” he replied and your jaw dropped. Ja”Marr shoved him backward, yelling at him before security intervened. You recovered from your shock and turned around, abruptly leaving the stadium. You called an Uber to take you back to the hotel, and the massive traffic gave you a lot of time to process what had just happened. 

You could understand him being upset over the game, especially since it was so fresh in his mind. But it’s not like you went up to him; he came up to you. This man was supposed to be your best friend, and he basically just called you a whore to your face. This shit was ridiculous. 

30 minutes later, you were walking into the hotel. Ja’Marr had tried calling, but you declined. You called the airline you were flying with to see if there was any chance of flying out early, and you were lucky to snag a seat on the last flight out. You quickly packed up your stuff after changing into a comfier outfit and headed down to the lobby to check out and call a car. 

Turning to head out the door you stopped as you saw Joe walking in, his eyes trained on you. He looked miserable and he made his way towards you slowly. 

“Y/n..” he started, his eyes filling up with tears, but you stopped him from saying anything else. 

“I’m leaving,” you said emotionlessly. He tried to reach out to you, but you flinched back and pain flashed across his face. 

“I need to talk to you y/n,” he begged. “Please don’t leave.” 

“Why would I stay?” You asked softly. “Goodbye, Joe.” 

You left him standing there wondering why it felt like your own heart was breaking into two. 

—-----------------------------------------------

It had been two weeks since then, and you had successfully avoided Joe at all costs. He blew up your phone of course but you have yet to answer. Luckily he hadn’t tried coming to your apartment because he knew you well enough to know that it’d piss you off. 

You were on your way to hang out with Ja’Marr for a group movie night which he promised you that Joe would not be at. You don’t know why you even believed him; Joe’s car was parked in the front driveway and you almost reversed until you saw Ja’Marr waving his arms at you. Stepping out, you crossed your arms, waiting for him. 

“I knew you wouldn’t come if you knew he was here,” he started and you scoffed. 

“You were right.”

“I am miserable because he is y/n,” he pleaded. “I’m sorry but I will be selfish for a minute. He is being a dick at practice to everyone and isn’t throwing me good balls. He’s moody, won’t say a word to me, and won’t leave his house unless necessary. So please let him make it up to you. You two belong together.”

“He called me a whore Ja’Marr!” You exclaimed frustrated and gave you a sympathetic look. 

“I know he did, and that was terrible. I tried to fight him on your behalf,” he said, earning a small smile from you. “God I shouldn’t tell you this but he’s so in love with you it’s insane. He’s hurting and you’re hurting. Please just talk to him.”

“He’s not in love with me,” you said and he just rolled his eyes. 

“Believe what you want but get in there,” he said steering you towards the door. 

The good thing was that there were a few other people here from your friend group, so technically, you didn’t even have to talk to him. He was the first person you saw when you walked in so clearly, this was a coordinated effort between the two friends. 

Joe did look sad, and you wanted to be happy about it, but you couldn’t find it in yourself. He was dressed down in grey sweats and a black T-shirt, his hair looking like he had run his hands through it over and over. His eyes were puffy, and that made your heart clench. 

“Are we ready to start?” One of your other friends called from the living room and you started to walk towards the room but Joe gently grabbed you, pulling you closer to him and letting Ja’Marr pass. 

“Can we talk?” He mumbled quietly to you and you nodded, letting him pull you into the study. You stood with your arms crossed as you looked at him, waiting. 

“I’m sorry y/n. I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “I was hurting so bad and I took it out on you. The one person who has always been there for me.” 

“Sorry isn’t going to cut it Joe,” you said, frustrated. “It’s not like it was just the comment; it was the week leading up to it, missing the event. I can’t be there for you when you don’t let me in.”

You had imagined how this conversation would go multiple times over the past few weeks. You expected an apology and another apology, but you did not expect Joe Burrow to start sobbing in front of you. 

He sunk against the wall and had his head in his hands while he was crying. Your shock wore off, and you knelt down in front of him, moving in between his legs. He looked up and your heart broke at his tear-stained face. 

“What is going on, Joe?” You asked softly, wiping some of his tears with your thumb. 

“I just don’t know what to do,” he whispered. “Everything is going wrong, and I don’t feel like I’m in control. I do everything I can, and it’s still not enough.” 

“Oh Joey,” you murmured, pulling his head into your shoulders. He held on to you tightly as he cried and you ran your hand through his hair gently. 

“I’m sorry,” he rasped. “I’m sorry I hurt you; I hated myself the second I said it.” 

“I forgive you Joe,” you told him, looking into his teary eyes. 

“I don’t deserve you; I’m not good enough for you,” he said. “I want to be enough for you.”

You cupped his face gently, making him look at you. Your own eyes started to water at the vulnerability he was showing.

"Joe, you’ve always been enough for me," you whispered. "You don’t have to prove anything. Not to me, not to anyone. I’m here for you, not for what you do or don’t achieve."

His brows furrowed, and he shook his head slightly, his hands moving to hold yours. "You don’t understand, y/n. I don’t just want to be your best friend—I want to be everything to you. And I’ve been so afraid of ruining our relationship that I pushed you away instead."

Your breath caught in your throat. "Joe..."

"I love you," he said, his voice breaking, but his gaze held steady. "I’ve been in love with you for so long, and I didn’t know how to tell you. But pushing you away hurt worse than anything I’ve ever felt on the field. I can’t lose you."

For a moment, the weight of his words left you speechless. You searched his face, finding nothing but raw sincerity. Your heart ached, but in the best way, as if it were piecing itself together after being fractured.

"I love you too, Joe," you admitted to him and yourself, a soft smile breaking through the tears on your face. "But you have to let me in. No more shutting me out, no matter how hard things get. We figure it out together, okay?"

His hands tightened around yours, and he nodded, relief washing over his features. "Together. I promise."

You leaned forward, gently kissing his forehead before resting your own against it. The two of you walked out of the study and into the living room, where everyone else was already engrossed in the movie. Ja’Marr looked between the two of you and at your connected hands and gave you a wide smirk. Joe moved to the big armchair and pulled you down with him, and you snuggled into his lap. His arms wrapped around you, and you finally felt content. 

[fuctacles]

Congrats on 800 followers!

For the request thing…I would love to see something (smutty and/or fluffy) about Transmasc Eddie being comforted by cis Steve. Maybe after being misgendered in regard to their relationship?

I love your writing so much!

Thank you so much <3 I hope this works :3 800 wc for 800 698 followers, M rating | Ao3

"You can't bring your girlfriend into the bathroom, man."

"Excuse me?"

Just this is enough to put Steve into attack mode. He can feel Eddie's hand tighten around his in warning.

"Yeah, we have a no-bathroom-fucking policy after the last incident." The guy that stopped them has the decency to at least look bashful, rubbing his cheek awkwardly. Steve can almost sympathize, if stopping horny couples is a task he's supposed to do on the daily.

Almost.

"I'm sure me and my boyfriend can find a better place to fuck," he says dryly.

The guy's eyes widen, then flicker to the side, where Eddie is hovering awkwardly.

"Shit, dude, I'm so sorry—"

"So do you stop only hetero couples?" Steve interrupts him with a quirk of an eyebrow, bitch mode in full swing. "Or did your management just forget queer people exist?"

He opens his mouth, but closes it, rendered speechless.

"Or are they actually heterophobic and want only gay sex to happen in their bathrooms?" Steve cocks his head to the side.

"I don't—"

"So can me and my boyfriend go pee or...? We'll hold our hands while doing so," he raises their joined palms. "But nothing more, I promise."

"Just go," the man says tiredly, his expression pained.

"Thanks," Steve nods to him. "And consider simple no-fucking signs."

Finally free from the bar worker, Eddie pulls Steve towards the bathroom. Once inside and away from the loud music, he falls against the door with a sigh.

"Sorry," he says, hands hiding his face.

"What for?" Steve asks, latching the door closed.

"I don't know," Eddie groans in frustration. "For not cutting my hair, maybe? Maybe then I'd look like a man," he scoffs.

"Do I have to list off all the guys with long hair again?"

"I'm good, thanks."

"Ozzy Osbourne, Dio, Slash..." he starts listing on his fingers anyway.

"Steve."

Steve drops his hand.

"Listen, if that guy assumes every person with long hair is a girl, then clearly he's not listening to enough metal."

Eddie lets out an involuntary snort, and Steve grins at the sound.

"And should we believe what an uncultured philistine without taste has to say?"

"No," Eddie admits with a fond roll of his eyes.

"Good," Steve smiles and leans down to kiss him. "Because I love your hair."

"I love it too," Eddie groans, his frustration still not gone. "I just wish it didn't make me feel this way."

"I know, Eds. But it's okay to feel like this, it's normal that it hurts," Steve reminds him, wrapping him in a hug. "You're a man to those who matter, who know what good music is."

Eddie's laughs gets muffled against his shoulder.

"That's true."

"And you're not going to change things you like about yourself because of a stranger's opinion."

"Hell no."

They stay quiet, just enjoying the warmth and comfort of their embrace, until Eddie speaks up again.

"Thank you."

"I'm just reminding you your own words."

"Still."

"Well, in that case, you're welcome, baby."

"Okay, but now I really have to pee."

They disentangle themselves to reach the urinals, but not before Steve lands another peck on his lips.

Eddie always takes longer in the bathroom, considering the time it takes him to disentangle and adjust his packer, but once he's free, he sees movement in his periphery. Steve is holding out his hand.

With a laugh, he grabs it, so they can pee hand in hand.

Once at they are at the sinks, they meet each other's eyes in the mirror.

"I kind of wanna fuck in the bathroom now," Steve admits.

Eddie makes a face and looks pointedly around. It's not the worst bathroom he's been in, but it's still a bar bathroom.

"You're not fucking me here," he says decisively. Steve hums.

"No, but you could fuck me."

Now that's a thought. One Eddie didn't plan in advance.

"Sorry, left my dick at home."

"Babe, you can make me come on just your fingers," Steve reminds him, leaning sideways against the sink to properly look at him.

Eddie pulls a strand of hair over his mouth at the reminder.

"Well..."

"Or we can always make a show and pretend just for kicks." His boyfriend suggests with a mischievous smile.

That, makes Eddie's eyes sparkle.

"We absolutely can," he quickly agrees.

Steve throws himself at the door with a rough slam, and moans in his best impression of a cheesy porn star.

"Fuck, I love you so much," Eddie attacks his mouth with no less enthusiasm. He starts moving his hips against his leg and groan to the rhythm, Steve rattling the door and whimpering along. "I can still fuck you after, right?"

Steve moans again, now more genuinely from the mere thought.

"You'd try not to."

I suck at tags: @blasvemous @wheneverfeasible @phantomcat94

[shimonerin]

NANAMI KENTO ROAD TRIP HEADCANONS

I'm on a vacation right now so I might as well finally write about my beloved 🩷 also not proofread and very much rushed so I apologize TvT

The two of you, if given the time and money, would always go on a short vacation trip during the holidays or special occasions as a way to unwind from the city life.

Given how busy the two of you are, you haven't spent time with each other as properly as you want it to.

It's almost always somewhere secluded and peaceful yet close enough to be driven by car. You'd spend 2-3 days there, finally having the chance to exist in the moment with your husband.

Nanami is a light packer yet he's always complete, from clothes to hygienic products. You, on the other hand, pack too much and still manage to forget something. Over time, he's learned to store some of your stuff in his bag, just so you won't lose your mind over a toothpaste or your deodorant.

He'd purposefully leave at the wee hours of the morning, preferably around 2-3 am. God forbid he wants to get into another traffic jam with hours and hours more and with the afternoon sun right into his face.

It was always such a hassle getting yourself up for the trip but when you'd finally get to your destination, with the sun peeking at the horizon and the rest of the world still sleeping, it's an experience you wouldn't miss for the world.

During the long car rides, he never failed to take care of you. Adjusting your car seat to the right position, making sure to always open the sun visor when it gets too hot.

He'd be willing to stop by every gas station for you to freshen up, stretch, or go to the bathroom. He does bring extra chips and chocolate so you wouldn't have to keep buying.

When the morning starts to rise, he would stop by a McDonald's. Get some coffee for him and some breakfast for you. Standing by the car outside, he'd let out a deep sigh and pull you closer by the shoulder as the sun peeks out over the horizon.

Nanami's never been much of a "travel-and-go" kind of guy. But if it meant spending more time with you outside the four walls of your home, he'd be willing to drive miles and miles for that.

[scribblesofagoonerr]

— Are we there yet? | Glastonbury Series

here's the first part of this small mini series i have been working so hard to create over the past week, this is one of my favourites so i hope you all enjoy it!

massive massive thank you to @alotofpockets and @lvnleah for the ongoing help throughout writing this and putting up with me throwing ideas at them all the time.

pairings: leah williamson x reader!monkey

summary: it's the first day of the festival and monkey's impatient as always to get there, being her usual self and causing chaos no doubt.

you can check out the whole masterlist here: chaos fc masterlist

“Are we there yet?” You question, impatiently as you huff and continue to drag your suitcase across the field that feels like it is never ending to get to wherever you need to go.

You have already asked this question a few times, you’re aware of that but you can’t help but ask it again.

Your suitcase is heavy and you don’t like it, not one bit.

Leah can’t help but roll her eyes from where she’s taken the lead to walk in front, “No— we’re halfway across a field still.” She reminds you, gesturing with her hands to show how far you’ve walked.

Not that far at all, unfortunately.

“My suitcase is heavy!” You whine and complain, doing no more than trying to kick it to see if that helps you to get it further across the field.

It does not.

The blonde in front pinches the bridge of her nose, “Then you shouldn’t have packed so much!” She states, more than used to your antics.

“I can’t help it, I’m an over-packer!” You exclaim in protest, you couldn’t help being excited about this weekend and wanting to pack… Well, pretty much everything that you could think about.

“Well then it serves you right!” Leah remarks, rolling her eyes.

You huff and kick your suitcase again once more, giving it a death glare.

“Come on, we’ll be there soon enough if you don’t complain about it anymore,” Leah jokes, continuing to walk ahead of you.

“Urgh, I don’t like this. I don’t want to walk anymore,” You grumble, less than five minutes later as you had barely made it any more across the wide open field, “Are we there yet?”

Leah exhales a sigh and shakes her head, “Since the last time you asked, five minutes ago? The answer is still very much no, Monkey.”

You let out an inhuman noise that attracts a few looks from people walking past, who probably think you are on something, “Ugh— I can’t anymore. It’s too much!” With that, you do no more than flop down on the floor dramatically and refuse to move any more.

Much to the blonde’s absolute horror over the situation.

“Get up off the floor,” Leah shrieks at you, all but ditching her own case as she tries to pull you up off the ground, “You’re literally in the middle of a field right now!” She states in disbelief.

“But I’m comfy here, and my suitcase is heavy!” You whine and still continue to plant yourself on the floor, because it’s much better than lugging a heavy suitcase across a field in your opinion.

Leah decides to be a buzz-kill about things though, “Monkey, up off the floor. Now!”

“Mean Malfoy!” You grumble in protest.

“Really? I’m being mean?” The blonde towers over you as she scoffs, “Fine, okay then, but you’re the one who’s openly lying in a field that probably has cow muck in it…”

That statement is enough to make you bolt up from the floor as you have slight flashbacks to your adventures in Scotland, “Ew, ew, ew!” You whine and screech at the horror of it.

Leah is openly laughing now and finding the whole scenario hilarious, “Yeah I thought that would get you to get up!” She exclaims, proud of herself for that.

“That’s not funny! I have trauma about Scotland!” You whine and scowl at her, meanwhile she is still laughing her head off about it, “Where’s Derek?” You wonder.

“Wha…” Leah stifles her laughter and looks at you in concern.

“The fluffy cow! You said there’s cow muck round here— that means Derek is here, somewhere!” You automatically put the two together as you now eagerly looked around the open field for your newfound fluffy best friend.

Leah eyes you in disbelief and pinches the bridge of her nose, “Oh for the love of— He’s not going to be here, in the middle of this field,” She tells you, laughing a small bit, “Monkey, come on. Seriously?” She questions.

“But you said this place was a farm— You lied to me!” You gasp in outrage, pointing your finger in her direction.

“I didn’t lie, Monkey,” The blonde tells you as she tries and fails to stifle her laugh, “Do you really expect to see a cow walking round the field, free reign?” She questions, still clearly amused by your thought process.

“His name is Derek, and yes I do,” You’re quick enough to correct her with a mock scowl, “This is outrageous, I’ve had enough! Can we go home now?” You’re all but ready to turn back round and call it quits on the whole weekend.

Although the heavy suitcase does make you think twice about that.

“The weekend hasn’t even started yet,” Leah remarks, still finding the whole thing amusing much your own misfortune about it.

You continue to pout in protest, “But there’s no Derek.”

“No, but there’s music here. That’s enough to be excited about,” Leah reminds you as she beams a wide smile, “And don’t forget you are really excited to watch Scouting for Girls and Avril Lavigne perform, do you really want to miss the chance to see them live?” She questions.

“Eh, it would be better if Derek was here,” You tell her, shrugging your shoulders before you begrudgingly continue her through the field to meet up with the rest of the people here.

“Finally, we’re here!” You breathe a sigh of relief and all but abandon your suitcase now, eventually meeting up with Leah’s cousin and their friends, who you were somewhat familiar with.

“Oh don’t be so dramatic, it wasn’t that far!” Leah rolls her eyes and sets her suitcase down before she looks to try and spot her cousin.

You scoff at her in disagreement and shake your head, “It so was, and you made me lug my suitcase over a field!” You accuse her and point your finger at her.

“It wouldn’t have been too bad if you didn’t pack too much,” Leah reminds you teasingly as she ruffles your hair, “Hiya, Hol!” She waves over to her cousin.

“Hey, you guys made it!” Leah’s cousin, Holly, grins as she walks over to her and envelopes her in a hug, “Hi, Monkey. What aren’t you happy about?” She jokes, giving you a side hug.

“Ello’,” You return the hug with the blonde, “Your cousin made me walk so far and I ain’t happy about it!” You exclaim, slightly glaring at the younger blonde between the two of them.

Usually you would be shy around certain members of Leah’s family, like her grandma, but considering you see her cousin a lot more than the others, you have come out of your shell and feel like you can be yourself around them a little more than before.

“Oh she did, huh?” Her cousin teases you.

“She’s being dramatic, she wouldn’t have been complaining so much if she didn’t overpack her suitcase in the first place either,” Leah points out, rolling her eyes in disagreement.

“I see the problem, how much did you pack?” The older blonde turns to look at you in amusement, “Don’t tell me it’s the whole kitchen sink,” She jokes at your expense.

Leah snickers slightly and grins at her cousin, “She would’ve done it if she could fit it in– I found her trying to cram everything in by sitting on top of it,” She turns to look at you and smirk teasingly, “God knows what you actually have in there.”

“Stuff that I need! Like hair straighteners, my hair dryer and hair products!” You all but insist, pouting at the blonde, who’s cracked up laughing.

“Please tell me you’re joking?” Leah questions, not trying to cover her amusement up.

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, “No?”

“Monkey, we’re camping! Where… Where on earth do you expect to plug in hair straighteners, or a hair dryer?” The blonde questions, still continuing to laugh aloud, “You can’t plug it in the middle of an open field.” She adds.

“Oh,” You are left dumbfounded now, “I don’t know, I thought there might be places like that!” You protest, throwing your hands up in the air.

By now both of the two blondes’ are in absolute stitches about this and finding it completely hilarious about the situation.

“Oh, Monkey,” Leah speaks through her laughter as she rubs her hand over her face and licks her bottom lip, “What’re you like, eh?”

“I guess you should’ve helped her pack after all, Le,” Holly remarks, shaking her head as she tries to control her laughter, “Oh kid, seriously?” She questions you.

“I… I didn’t think,” You admit, slumping your shoulders and feeling a bit of an idiot about this decision now.

“Well, at least you know now,” Holly jokes and ruffles your hair, using your short height to her advantage, “Shall we put the tent up now?” She wonders.

Leah nods in agreement, “That sounds like a plan– Aye, no, where’d you think you're off too?” She wonders, catching you trying to dip off in the direction when something miraculously caught your attention.

“Over there,” You point in the direction that you want to go, “I wanna check out things I see. They look so cool!”

“We need help with the tent first,” Leah reminds you as groan in annoyance about it and let them be perfectly aware of your feelings about it, “Don’t be giving me none of that, the quicker it’s done then the quicker we can go and have a look around.”

“But I just wanna explore, and this will take forever to put it up!” You whine in frustration, really not liking the whole idea of putting a tent up.

“And there’ll be plenty of time for that when we’re here the whole weekend, but first we need to put up the tent and we need you to help with that,” Leah is of course stern about things like usual and it just makes you want to bang your head up against a wall if there was one in sight, “I don’t want you to wander of either like you always do, especially not here when it’s so crowded!”

“Oh yeah, I heard all about your time in Nashville from Grandma,” Holly chimes in as she laughs in amusement, “You do have a bad habit for wandering off, don’t you, eh?” She jokes.

“No, I’m not that bad!” You can’t help but huff in protest.

“Really? I do beg to differ there, Monkey,” Leah remarks as she shakes her head in disagreement, “I was this close to putting a tracker on you there, either that or a damn leash. So I’m not having that happen here!” Now she’s the point wagging her finger in your face.

“Well at least in Nashville I was able to pet Derek!” You exclaim, thinking back to the adorable fluffy cow that you were so excited to meet, ie, your new best friend.

You wish you could have a fluffy cow as a pet. Wouldn’t that be so cool?

Leah would never go along with that idea though, so it’s probably better to think about a puppy.

“Earth to Monkey?” The said blonde is now waving her hand in front of your face as you jolt at the suddenness of it, “You zoned out a bit there, where’d you go?” She wonders, amusedly.

“I was thinking about Derek,” You confess, shoving your hands in your pocket.

“Wha… Who’s Derek?” Holly asks in confusion.

Leah chuckles and shakes her head, “I– It’s better to not ask.”

“O… Okay then,” Holly agrees with her cousin.

You huff aloud and flop down on the floor, “How long is it gonna take to put up the tent? I wanna explore, listen to music. I wanna get down with the vibe!”

You are pretty excited to watch certain artists perform. It all feels so exciting, so why do you have to wait for them to put a tent up? You could be already watching the live music, right now!

“It’ll be quicker if you help us put it up– Monkey?” Leah states as she realises that you have been side-tracked once again, “Hello, earth to Monkey?” She’s once again waving her damn hand in your face.

“Wha?” You bat it away from you and look at her confused.

“You zoned out there again,” Holly laughs and shakes her head.

“Oh,” You shrug your shoulders carelessly, “Whatcha say?” You question.

Leah exhales a sigh and pinches the bridge of her nose, “I said it would be quicker if you help us with the tent, rather than just leaving the two of us to do it by ourselves.” She repeats her words.

You huff in protest and reluctantly stand back up, “I still don’t get why we couldn’t stay in a hotel though.”

“We’re getting the whole experience of camping at Glastonbury,” Leah tells you, rolling her eyes as she knew you had a certain dislike for nature, and you really liked being able to have heating and wifi access.

“I wish Buddy could’ve come here with us,” You remark, you know it would be super more fun with your favourite little buddy around, but considering her age, Leah and Jordan discussed it between them and decided it’s better for her to stay with Jordan for the weekend.

You know it would have been great fun with you both here though, for sure!

“Oh yeah, and have the pair of you running around wild? No thanks,” Leah remarks in disagreement as she shakes her head, “It’s bad enough to have to deal with you alone.”

“Wha… What’s the supposed to mean?” Your eyes widen in disbelief, questioning the fact she had the actual audacity to say that right now, “I’m offended! I’m an absolute joy to be around!”

“You know exactly what I mean there– Are you going to help us put up the tent, or leave us to do it by ourselves?” Leah shouts at you to get your attention, considering the fact that you still haven’t helped them yet one bit.

“I’m bored,” You complain, not enjoying having to sit around and wait for the two older women to finish putting up the tent that you had given up on in a matter of minutes.

Well you didn’t go up so to speak, more like Leah accused you of doing it wrong and not even trying to help, before she got annoyed at you and told you to just sit down and not wander off, which you felt a bit offended about at first but then realised it is true.

You do have a terrible habit of just wandering off sometimes.

"Quicker we put the tent up, the quicker we can go listen to the music,” Leah tells you as she notes your general frustration to be anywhere other than where you are currently sitting on the floor while scrolling through Instagram, “What time is Grace on stage?” She questions her cousin.

“Her set starts at 3 o’clock,” Holly tells her, working to help put the tent up which is more than you did so you can’t really say a lot, “It’s the lonely hearts club stage.”

You peer up from your phone to look at them confused, “Wait, Grace is performing… Here? Wow. I had no idea!” 

"I literally told you this the other day!" Leah exclaims, looking at you in disbelief.

You continue to look at the blonde confused, "You did?"

"Yes. Glad to see you were paying attention," Leah huffs and shakes her head.

"I must've switched off..." You admit as you shrug your shoulders, you always do have a terrible habit of doing that as well and well, whenever she is usually saying something most of the time it is negative that lands you in trouble.

The blonde clicks her tongue in disapproval, "Yeah, no kidding there, Monkey."

"Usually when you tell me things it's because you're telling me off for doing something I shouldn't be, so sue me for not listen' to you!" You comment, not even trying to hide the cheeky grin of your face as you definitely know you hit a nerve there.

"Unbelievable!" Leah murmurs and shakes her head.

"So, Grace is performing? Yay. That's great. Go, Grace!" You exclaim, clapping your hands in excitement for her as you slowly try to change the subject, although the blonde glaring at you might say differently, “Are you any closer to putting the tent up now?” You question, getting even more border the extra seconds you have to wait.

“A bit longer– Don’t think I will be so quick to forget about what you said then,” Leah warns you as she shakes her head and continues to put the tent up.

“Oh I wouldn’t dream of it,” You remark as you can't help but smirk in amusement, you have to admit it is funny to see the blonde look so annoyed sometimes.

“Careful there, Monkey,” Holly looks between you and her cousin in caution, “Right, we’re just about done with the tent. Let’s go and check out the music now before you say something to end up making things worse, eh?” She jokes.

“Finally! I didn’t even say anything that bad!” You’re quick to insist and shrug your shoulders as you jump up from your spot on the floor, already attempting to head off in a direction even though you have no idea exactly where you are going right now.

“Are you going to put your suitcase inside the tent, or leave it out for people to take?” Leah points out, gesturing to the abandoned luggage on the floor, “No? Guess I’ll do it then– Jesus Christ, Monkey. What the actual hell did you put in here? This weighs a ton!”

“Stuff that I needed, duh. I couldn’t decide what to pack!” You told her, getting further impatient to get to the music so once the tent was zipped up with everything inside, you were keen to drag them towards where you could hear the music, “Do you hear that?” You ask them.

“No,” Holly furrows her eyebrows.

Leah looks at you in concern, “Hear what?”

“The sound of music!” You exclaim, sticking a finger up in the air as you gesture to it, “That means we’re getting closer. Come on!”

“I… I don’t hear anything,” Holly states, confused.

“Then you’re deaf,” You tell her cheekily as you try to run ahead, “Let’s go, let’s go!”

“Monkey, that was rude– Don’t wander off!” Leah is quick to try and catch up with you, taking a grip of your bicep, “I told you it’s going to be crowded and I don’t want to lose you here!”

“We made it!” You cheer aloud in joy after the walk down from where the campsite is.

“We did,” Leah replies in agreement as takes a quick video on her phone, no doubt for her Instagram post dump at the end of it all.

You can’t help but jump in it and stick your tongue out while waving your hands around, “Wassup!”

“I swear you are not normal sometimes, kid,” Holly jokes and shakes her head.

Leah laughs and slides her phone in her pocket, “You’ve only just realised?” 

“Hey! I take offence to that!” You scowl at the blonde before you take in the surroundings around you, “Whoa, this place is massive and there’s so many people!” You exclaim in awe.

“There is, so do you see why now I didn’t want you to run off?” Leah remarks, gesturing around to the people around you and you have to admit it is a really big crowd, “I wouldn’t have a chance of finding you at all.”

“But we’d have so much fun playing Marco Polo!” You peer up at the blonde and grin.

“Definitely not, no,” Leah is quick to shake her head in disagreement.

Boo! What an absolute buzz-kill.

Leah’s cousin checks the time on her phone before she puts it back in her pocket, “Grace’s set will be starting soon, we should go and find somewhere to stand,” She states.

“Plenty of space in an open field,” You can’t help but joke with them.

“Hilarious, you should be a comedian, kid,” Holly chuckles in amusement.

“Well, that’s the plan if the football career doesn’t work out,” You grin proudly and shove your hands in your pockets, “I’m hungry!” You complain aloud.

“They have a lot of stuff, we have time to go and grab something first before it starts,” Holly motions to the food vans that you just so happen to be walking past as your eyes lit up at the thought of it all.

You know exactly what you want to eat.

“Yeah, food!” You state as you glance around to figure out if they have what you want, “Ooh, I want to get churros if they have any here!” You declare.

“Oh, no way. We’re not having a repeat of last time,” Leah is very much against the idea as she is reminded of the last time you had churros, “You actually want to make it through all the music acts tonight, don’t you?”

“One won’t hurt!” You whine and huff in protest, while Leah is shaking her head, “Fine, can I get a hot dog then?” You ask, considering that she currently has your bank card in her clutches still.

“That’s a better option,” The blonde agrees, ordering you a hot dog before she pays for it and you’re handed it by the staff member in the stall, “Right, lets’ go and watch the set before we miss it.”

The three of you walk onto the open field in front of the stage where their friend, Grace is set to perform and you have to admit that you are excited to be able to listen to some of her songs, considering you are pretty familiar with a few of them.

“Wow, Grace is awesome!” You exclaim in amazement as you stand there and watch her perform on the stage with her two backing singers, one of them being another one of Leah’s friends you are familiar with, “She’s so good– Wo, go Grace! Slay girl!”

“Grace has her own fangirl,” Holly can’t help but joke in amusement.

“She’s awesome!” You continue to insist, “Her vocals are on point, they’re sick!”

“Sick?” Leah’s cousin continues to mock you before she looks at the former blonde, “Make sure you get this on video for evidence!” She jokes.

Leah chuckles and there indeed she does have her phone out recording you, “I’m already on it.”

Taking the opportunity, you can’t help scowl at them both, “I don’t even care that I am fangirling though! She’s really good!” With that, you still continue to bop your head along to the music and have a grand ol’ time.

Before you knew it, her set was up and according to the schedule you briefly had memory off, the plan was to next watch the Sugarbabes.

Which don’t get you wrong, you are looking forward to seeing them, but you aren’t totally excited about it.

Not like Scouting for Girls.

You are so pumped for that!

“You seriously expect me to get from one stage to another in the space of fifty-ish minutes?” You look at Leah completely gone out, it’s a large field and you have short legs, “That is so long to walk!”

“Yes, come on. We have plenty of time to make it,” Leah states determinedly although this time she is the one trying to pull you in the direction of the stage now, having had a couple of drinks already and you have to say you do sometimes prefer the drunken version of her.

“I don’t feel like running today though, Le!” You continue to complain.

“Oh, you don’t?” Leah chuckles and looks at you amusedly before she leans down so you can have an easy way to jump on her back, “Hop on then.”

Grinning and knowing you got your way, you took a short jump to grip onto the blonde, “Giddy up, horsey!” You joke, patting her shoulder playfully.

“I’ll give you giddy up horsey, you little menace,” Leah shouts loudly as she still gives you a piggy back over to the stage where the Sugarbabes were soon going to perform.

“Yeehaw!” You continue to shout aloud, getting a few strange looks from people walking past you, “We’re here!” You exclaim when you arrive at the stage and you are ever so kindly almost dropped on the floor by none other than Malfoy if it wasn’t for her friends catching you.

How many drinks has she had? Maybe you’ll spare another piggy back from her for a while, cos’ you don’t fancy almost being dropped again.

You do have to admit you get a bit bored waiting around for them to come on stage and you could easily take the opportunity to walk around and listen to other artists, but there are a lot more people here and it feels overwhelming.

You don’t really fancy getting lost in a crowd this big.

“How much longer?” You wonder, trying to figure out how much longer you needed to wait around for them.

“It shouldn’t be much longer,” One of Leah’s friends chimes in from where you stood in the small group of people.

You exhale a sigh in frustration, “It feels like we’ve been waiting for ages!”

“You’re always so impatient,” The blonde jokes, gently patting you on your cheek as she smiles at you.

Maybe you’d be the one carrying her back to the tent tonight if she carries on drinking the way she is going, no thank you.

Finally, the moment came where the Sugarbabes came out onto the stage and there’s a loud volume of noise from the crowd.

Being very much a part of that crowd, you do enjoy bouncing along to the music.

“Can we bring yesterday back around? Cos’ I know how I feel about you now!” You sang aloud, jumping up and down in the spot where you stood amongst Leah, her cousin and their friends.

“And you said you wouldn’t run to make it,” Leah teases, ruffling your hair before she gets hoisted up into the air and ends up on her friends shoulders and she was definitely having the time of her life.

Somehow you definitely think she’s going to continue to drink and enjoy herself more as the night goes on.

That isn’t necessarily such a bad thing though.

© scribblesofagoonerr

[charliemwrites]

Commission: Bastard's Bishop

Hello, hello!! It's been a minute, hasn't it? Here's a commission I did a couple weeks ago for my dear fishstick! I had a blast writing this and learning more about packers!

Please note that I've included some general content tags, specific warnings for intimacy, and lastly, some notes for terminology used for the reader character, Bishop, and his genitalia. All my love <3

Content: FTM reader, obsessive/possessive behavior, mild harassment, dub-con Dub-Con intimacy: thigh-riding, intercrural, unprotected PIV, semi-public, overstim, praise kink, mild dacryphilia, mild size kink Trans Man Reader terminology: cock/clit semi-interchangeably, cunt, hole, he/him pronouns and endearments, reader has a packer

divider by user: gildui

You narrow your eyes as your back twinges for the third time today, grip tightening on your mop handle.

It’s been like this all week, a tight pinch somewhere between your spine and your right hip. A deep ache that no amount of stretching or heat packs has soothed thanks to the demands of your job. Repeatedly stooping to pick up trash, move furniture, and clean floors tends to undo most of the rest and recovery you achieve in your off hours.

Still, after being out all of last week, your PTO is running a bit thin, and you can’t afford to take more. KorTac’s employment package is good – but not that good.

You pause long enough to take a deep breath, willing the muscles to relax.

The clock on the wall reads late afternoon – not much longer now. Just this last hallway (all admin offices and conference rooms) and you’ll be done. Most of the operators have left already at least. In and out of base early, leaving you to clean up after them, when you’re not at risk of hearing any confidential information.

You’re glad for the solitude today, not quite up for polite half-smiles you sometimes get when you accidentally make eye contact. You’d much rather just put your head down and do your job – the sooner you can crack open that bottle of paracetamol in your locker.

All around, it hasn’t even been a bad day, apart from your sore back. You got in on time, your boss is out with appendicitis, and the bane of your existence hasn’t made an appearance at all this week. Lisa in accounting mentioned he’s away on a mission, so hopefully you won’t have to deal with him for—

“Daydreaming on the job, Schatz?”

You jump at the gruff voice next to your ear, headphones slipping down to your collarbones. A startled curse mangled in your throat as you brain catches up, recognizing the gravel-on-stone accent rumbling too close for comfort.

Already scowling, you turn on your heel, face-to-mask with green netting and broad shoulders.

As always, Krueger’s obscured features bring you up a bit short, mouth popping open for a sharp remark your brain lags to provide. Bastard.

“I’m not daydreaming,” you end up huffing. Try to sound clipped, despite the thumping of your heart, but it comes out sullen. Close enough.

“It is okay, I will not tell anyone,” he leers, “as long as you were daydreaming about me.”

The worst part is that you kind of were. Maybe not the way he means – this time, anyway – but close enough to the truth that you feel your face growing warm despite yourself.

“You’re delusional,” you scoff, turning away. You scrub harder than necessary at the linoleum, trying to work out the frustrating mix of irritation and intrigue that Krueger inspires in you.

As always, he fails to take the hint.

“What, you did not miss me while I was gone?” he mocks.

From the corner of your eye, you can see him shifting closer. Too close. Far past politeness and skirting rude, damn near crowding.

It makes you all too aware of the slight angle you’re bent at, pushing your ass out. Thankfully, the baggy fit of your khakis obscures any suggestive shape, providing modesty you shouldn’t need while doing janitorial work.

“You were gone?” you reply, flat. As if you didn’t feel a conflicted pang in your chest when you realized you’d have a few peaceful, uninterrupted days.

He simpers, “I missed you last week. Where did you go, hm?”

His audacity almost coaxes a disbelieving laugh from your tongue. Intimidating and oddly charismatic as he can be, you’re not about to abide him being so blatantly nosy. You’ve already learned this lesson with Krueger – give an inch and he’ll take miles and miles before you even realize what you’ve done.

That’s how you ended up with him calling you “Schatz” so casually.

“None of your business,” you reply.

“You were sick, no?” he continues as if you haven’t spoken. His voice drops to a near purr, “You should have called, I would take such good care of you, Liebling.”

You stiffen, eyes tellingly wide. How the hell does he know that? And why?

It’s the one question that nips at your mind every time he interacts with you – the why of it all. You don’t get it. He’s one of KorTac’s best soldiers, dangerous and competent and funny for all he’s an arrogant prick. You’ve seen plenty of other KorTac employees flirting and checking him out. He’s not hurting for romantic or sexual prospects.

So why the fuck does he ever spend time on you? Teasing you, baiting you? You, the grumpiest of the janitors with chipped nail polish and the baggy clothes and the giant headphones that practically scream “leave me the fuck alone.” Why does he always seek you out?

You don’t trust the answer. It prods at uncomfortable, hurtful suspicions that you refuse to entertain, so you just try not to think about it at all.

Instead, you feel genuine irritation flare in your chest and clutch onto it, pushing away any fondness-born vulnerability aside. You dunk the mophead hard into the bucket, a soapy droplet landing on his scuffed black boots.

“I don’t need taking care of,” you snip back. “Especially not from you.”

It’s the sharpest you’ve ever been with him.

There’s a single, stony beat where you realize this is not the time or man to let your temper get the better of you.

You can feel his gaze boring into you through the netting. You’ve seen him without it before, know that his eyes are dark as obsidian shards and just as sharp. Can already imagine them narrowed, his jaw tense. You peer at him from the corner of your eye, feel your breath catch when his hand starts to reach for you…

“Hey, Bishop?”

You jolt once again. Know your eyes are way too big when you whip around, looking past Krueger to the doorway. One of your coworkers is there, poking their head around the frame and blissfully oblivious to the… well, to whatever this situation is.

“Would you mind helping me move a shelf? Someone dropped their coffee behind it.”

You damn near fling the mop aside, adrenaline buzzing through your veins as you realize just how alone you’ve been with Sebastian Krueger of all people.

“No problem,” you reply, eye twitching when your voice cracks a bit.

You don’t dare glance over your shoulder as you flee like a hunted rabbit. You already know Krueger will be staring after you.

You sigh as you swallow the last of your lukewarm water, easing the paracetamol tabs down your esophagus. Your locker is open just to your right, sparse and bland, but functional. Your casual clothes are waiting, half-folded on the little shelf inside. Mostly clean, still baggy, but a lot more comfortable than your khakis and polo.

Finally, you think, kicking your work shoes off to begin changing.

A flicker of movement is your only warning.

A hand darts past your head, slamming your locker shut with a clang that echoes in the empty lavatory. You yelp and spin around, only to be pushed back against cold, unforgiving metal. Krueger looms over you, nothing but a dark shadow beyond that green netting. Big and intimidating and here.

“What—”

He shushes you, quiet and drawling. Like he’s got all the time in the world. A shiver races down your spine and pools low in your gut.

“You seem to be using your words poorly today, Schatz,” he says, barely more than a rumble in his chest. “Perhaps you should stop using them, hm? Before I find a nicer use for your mouth.”

And you hate that your voice dries up, throat parched despite the half liter you chugged just a moment ago. He plants his other hand beside your head, caging you in. You’re dismayed to realize escape didn’t even occur to you before the option was revoked.

“We are friends, Bishop, no?”

You don’t dare answer. He doesn’t wait for one.

“As your friend, I worry that you work too much. This is why you were sick, you see? It is no good to work so hard all the time. No breaks, no rest.”

He speaks so casually, treating this like a normal conversation with an actual friend. But there’s no missing the edge in his voice, something predatory lurking between consonants and vowels. You heart claws at your ribcage, prey trying to escape a trap it can’t see.

“What is that English saying? ‘All work, no play,’ something like that?” He shrugs, and in doing so, sways closer.

He feels like a furnace without even touching you, making you flushed, sweaty. The scent of gunpowder peppers the heated sliver of air between your bodies, ready to ignite. You try to raise your hands, urge some distance. Overwhelmed by his proximity.

In one swift, yet almost lazy movement, he captures both of your wrists in one big, gloved hand. Pins them firmly over your head. You gasp and try to tug free, to no avail. While not painful, his grip is vicelike, unwavering. Tucking you neatly out of his way.

“Without proper rest, we become mean to our friends.” You shudder as his free hand begins tracing leisurely down your neck, over your bobbing throat. Even with the tactical glove on, his touch is deceptively light, almost ticklish. “You were so mean today, mein Prinz, when I was only trying to be a good friend.”

His fingers trail lower, down to the center of your chest, where he can surely feel your heart pounding. Your breath catches as his attention moves sideways and you realize his goal.

“Kreuger—”

He clicks his tongue as you start to squirm, as much a warning to you as part of his speech.

“Lucky for you, I am a very good friend.”

An embarrassed noise squeaks out of you as his index finger loops around your nipple, already tight and hard against the stiff fabric of your shirt. Little sparks of electricity crackle through your body, lighting up your nerves.

“I will take care of you as I should have when you were ill.”

This is his idea of sick care?! you think frantically, as mean fingers pinch your nipple through your shirt.

Another noise gets caught on the back of your tongue, a high-pitched whimper that you barely manage to swallow down.

“K-Krueger—” you cut yourself off with a whine as his tugs and then releases, swiping his thumb back and forth over the sensitive peak. The friction makes you tender in seconds, knees nearly buckling. “Th-this isn’t funny…”

He switches to the other nipple, giving it the same treatment until you’re throbbing in your boxers. You feel dizzy and needy, horrifically aroused and not even sure if you want to be. Your nipples are going to be sore if he doesn’t stop; they already ache just the way you like but somehow, maddeningly, he never crosses the line into rough.

“I am not laughing,” he replies, dead serious.

You want to say a million different platitudes – all those cheesy lines you usually snort at in romances. Knock it off, this isn’t a joke, you don’t scare me, you can drop the act.

Because you know he won’t, it isn’t, you are, and he’s not.

“Krue – ah!”

“What is my name, Liebling?” he nearly growls. You shudder, ducking your head. But he just follows, the hood brushing your flushed cheek. You’ve never felt more like prey. “You do not call your friends by their last names.”

“S-Sebastian…”

He practically purrs, drawing a heart around your areola with the tip of his thumb. “Good boy.”

You clench around nothing, hole aching, devastatingly empty. Arch into his touch before you realize you’re doing it, needing something, anything.

“You deserve a treat, hm?” he chuckles.

The hand on your chest disappears beneath his hood. Through the weave, you see a flash of white teeth. The rip of Velcro is loud in the otherwise empty locker room. You’re so, so lucky that you waited until the rest of your coworkers went home before changing – you don’t think Krueger would have a problem doing this in front of them…

That train of thought (that definitely doesn’t make your cock pulse) is cut off when Krueger’s hand slithers beneath your shirt. His bare hand.

You moan as his hot, rough palm smooths up your heaving ribs, right back to your sensitized nipples. He twists and pinches and plucks at them, ruthless and relentless. You didn’t think it could get any more intense, but it’s like he’s unravelling your self-control with those clever, cruel fingers. Every bitten off noise and aborted twitch of pleasure just spurs him on, a soldier on a mission.

A particularly sharp squeeze makes your hips jerk, banging back against the metal. You’ve tipped your hand again.

He bullies his thigh between yours and presses it tight against your slick, throbbing core. Your packer presses just right against your clit, sending pleasure rocketing up your spine. There’s no stopping you from rocking down against the thick muscle, chasing after more.

“There we go,” he coos, voice so deep now that it rattles in your cloudy head. “You just needed to be taken care of it, is that it?”

You bite your lip, but it doesn’t stop you from whining, horrified that you’re not more pissed off by his condescending tone. Worse, you’re getting off on it, humping his leg like a horny teenager.

“My sweet little Prinz,” he continues, “mein Shatz. Working so hard all the time.”

You whimper, trembling with the pleasure burning in your veins. Already close, that coil grows tight in your abdomen, pitching your voice up higher and higher, louder and louder. Don’t think you could pull yourself away now even if he let you, too focused on riding his thigh. Just that little bit harder, that little bit faster…

“Are you going to cum for me, Liebling?” he croons. “Do it, show me what a sweet boy you are.”

You fall over the edge with a shout, crumpling against his chest. Shuddering and twitching, panting into his shoulder. It feels like he’s everywhere, all you can see and smell and feel.

“S-stop,” you yelp when he tweaks your oversensitive nipple again. “Too much, Sebastian…”

He tuts sympathetically, giving your side a surprisingly comforting squeeze, before withdrawing his hand from beneath your shirt.

“There, are we feeling like a better friend now?” he hums, lowering your arms.

You take a deep breath, trying to assemble anything like coherent words from the scramble of your brain.

Before you can, the world spins. You blink, staring uncomprehendingly at the flaky grey paint of the locker you were just leaning against.

“Wha…?”

“Time to be a good friend in return, little one.”

You don’t even have a chance to wonder what he means. You can feel him pressing against your lower back, hot and thick and dripping. A pathetic noise eeks out from your throat as you brace your hands against the lockers.

“What are you going to…?”

You gasp again as he jerks your hips back sharply, a big hand between your shoulder blades to keep your chest pressed to the lockers. The cool sensation is heavenly on your sore nipples, but it doesn’t stop the nervous alarms ringing in your mind at the suggestive angle.

He hums, thumb caressing the dimples at the bottom of your spine.

“I have been stressed too, you know. My best friend was mean to me today.”

Your nails scrape against the metal as he tugs your pants and underwear halfway down your slick thighs. He whistles lowly, a satisfied noise in the back of his throat. You glance down and groan in mortification – the fabric of your boxers is absolutely drenched, clinging obscenely to your skin and the ridges of your packer.

“All this for me… such a good little Hase.”

You can tell he’s growing impatient now, though, because he doesn’t waste time teasing. You moan softly as his cock glides between the slick, sticky folds of your cunt. The bulbous tip skates along your own, still twitching with aftershocks and not at all prepared to be touched again so soon.

You whimper and try to jolt away but Krueger’s hands clamp down on your hips and rock you into the cradle of his own. He groans low and rough as he glides through your wetness, arching your spine to give himself a better angle to frot.

“So soft,” he mumbles, “such a good boy for me, I knew you would feel so good. Just had to show you how to behave. Shatz, my Shatz.”

You keen softly, find yourself squeezing your thighs together, giving him a tighter channel to fuck into. He’s so hot against you; you think you can feel drips of precum glossing your cock, the head of his dick catching on your hole when he pulls back too far. It’s tantalizing and thrilling, you don’t know if you want it or not anymore, and justify that he’s holding you too tight to escape anyway.

It shouldn’t be this easy, you think desperately as the flames of a new orgasm ignite from embers of the first. You’re too sensitive, too overstimulated, too—

“You’re going to cum for me again anyway,” he growls, and you realize you’ve been babbling all of that out loud.

Fuck.

It’s not a choice – it never was. He’s going to make you cum again and you’re drooling for it. You loosen your hips and spine, rock freely back into the urging of his hands. His hips pick up speed, settle into a rhythm better than any toy or vibrator you’ve ever played with (always thinking guiltily of him).

The next orgasm practically sneaks up on you. Building up until it’s spilling over all at once, ricocheting through you like a stray bullet. You damn near lock up with the shock and pleasure of it, but Krueger doesn’t let you, rubbing his cock against you until your knees buckle.

“No more games, Liebling,” he snarls.

He practically rips your pants and underwear the rest off the way off, leaving them in a puddle on the ground. A thick arm slithers around your waist, hauls you over to the locker room bench. Krueger drops onto it and drags you into his lap.

You catch yourself on his broad shoulders, staring wide-eyed at his cock jutting proudly between you two. It curves towards his stomach an angry red. Gleaming under the fluorescent lights with your slick, a pearl of it pooled right under the head, oozing down a pulsing vein.

Your mouth waters, but he doesn’t make good on his promise to use your mouth.

Instead, he scoops you up with a hand beneath your ass, the other wrapping around the wide base. Your fingers clench in the fabric of his shirt as you resist, whimpering nervously.

“It’s not going to fit, Sebastian!” you complain.

“It will, it will,” he soothes, “you are a big boy, you can take it…”

It’s not a choice, you think again, as he notches the fat head at your entrance.

You’re in no condition to hold yourself up in defiance. Not at your best, and not now when you’re already shaky and kitten weak on two orgasms, with even a fraction of Krueger’s considerable strength lowering you.

It stings.

You whimper and whine, bowing towards him, trying to relax. He coos and soothes with absent, sugary whispers until the head pops in. With his newly freed hand, he tugs the hood up to his nose and guides you into a wet, filthy kiss. You’re desperate for the distraction, licking the taste of iron and cigarette from his sharp canines.

With you distracted, you don’t notice his hand sneaking down again until his thumb is massaging your clit. You nearly jump out of your skin, only kept in place by his quick reflexes and unyielding strength.

“Hush, little one,” he murmurs against your jaw, “I am helping. Let me play with your pretty cock.”

You moan into his mouth as he works circles into that swollen bundle of nerves. It eases the discomfort of his cock sliding into you until you drop that last, mind-blowing inch and he’s bottomed out.

“Fuck, Schatz,” he groans, head tilting back, mouth parted.

You squeeze around him, so full it feels like he’s in your throat. He’s still rubbing your clit, making your walls pulse around him with every delicious swipe of his thumb.

“Come now, time to bounce, Hase.”

Despite his words, he’s the one bouncing you up and down, your legs barely able to support your weight. You could swear you feel every ridge and vein of the cock stretching you and it’s too much for your fucked out brain. All you can do is hold onto him, tears pricking your eyes. You’re not even upset when you feel his tongue licking them from your cheeks, can only shove your tongue in his mouth to get a taste.

He twitches up to meet your hips on the next thrust and you go cross-eyed at the angle – too good too goodtoogood.

You’re begging and whining, completely gone on ecstasy, grinding down on his lap every time you drop down. It’s loud and wet, something out of your dirtiest dreams. He’s fucking against your g-spot, bullying it, abusing it, and you can’t get enough, rolling your hips with each movement.

“I-I’m gonna, I’m gonna—”

“Milk my cock, scream for me, that’s it.”

And you do, shuddering and squeezing so tight around him that he makes a rough, punched out noise. He doesn’t stop as wave after wave washes over you, until you finally wail his name and go limp. Buried deep inside you, he cums without remorse in long, hot spurts against your walls.

In the aftermath, you’re panting and sweaty. Utterly ruined. Brain not quite online due to three back-to-back orgasms from a man who could probably kill you with two fingers. He’s mumbling in your ear, stroking your back. It’s almost pleasant. Maybe he isn’t so bad…

“Now, then. We will go to dinner like a proper couple.”

What happened to being friends?!

[ms-demeanor]

i really liked OJST in the mid-2010s but i didn’t stop reading cause of the cuck comic - wasn’t there also a comic erika moen wrote about (functionally) harassing lesbians with her now-husband?

In the mid 2010s closet-keys criticized one of Erika Moen's early diary comics and described Erika Moen as "Reassuring a cishet partner that it’s totally okay to use hate speech towards wlw at Pride" and condoning the harassment and fetishization of lesbians because of a 2007 comic that she had made as part of a webcomic she had written about gender and her interactions with her queerness.

The hate speech in question is the partner asking "are you sure you want to hold my hand with all these dykes around?" while they are pretty clearly at a Dyke Day event during pride, and the reassurance that 'it's totally okay to use hate speech toward wlw' is Erika responding "sweetie, I'm proud to be with you."

The comic is still up with a disclaimer that it was written at a different time, and I know that's probably not going to fly with a lot of people but if you were a bi woman in the early to mid 2000s it was pretty common to use statements like "lol yeah i'm into women my boyfriend is fine with it as long as I take pictures" to diffuse the biphobia from straight people AND to say shit like "I'm not a party bi, I actually love pussy, thanks" to diffuse the biphobia from queer people. (if you were a bi guy in the early to mid 2000s i'm sorry and I'm sorry now because we got LUG but that mostly went away and you *still* have to deal with the "gay in waiting" bullshit).

That comic ends with Erika and her partner looking at a woman and saying "I'd totally do her" while the woman thinks "pigs" and if you think that means that they literally sat on the street and vocally commented about lesbians passing by them or that they condone harassing lesbians (in, I cannot stress this enough, a diary comic written by someone in their early twenties who is realizing they are occasionally interested in some men some of the time after identifying as a lesbian their whole life), then I'm gonna go ahead and recommend signing up for some variety or other of literary analysis class. Do we think that Erika is seriously implying that she is going to make her boyfriend gay if she fucks him in this comic from a year later?

If this comic bothers you and you see it as a straight-passing couple giving the go-ahead to harass lesbians, you do you, I'm not saying you have to read the comic or enjoy Erika Moen.

I am saying it's a bit of a stretch, though, and certainly the least charitable explanation possible, and that we should probably give people some space to say awkward things about their sexuality and to make missteps when discussing it in their early twenties and not call them lesbophobic fifteen years after the fact for a college comic.

Moen also gets called transphobic because she has described trans men as adorable/cute in a way that could be read as patronizing in one comic and because she made a comic about wearing a packer for fun and for sexual gratification with her cis male partner as a cis woman.

Appropriately, all of these things feel very "late twenty teens tumblr callout post."

If it bugs you, you don't have to read the comics but I've talked about Moen before and I've gotten the anons in my inbox calling me lesbophobic for recommending her comic when in 2007 she made a comic about catcalling lesbians and condoning street harassment.

Which is frustrating because Erika Moen writes a comic about sex toys that has incredible body and gender diversity and is interested in making sure that people of all sexualities are having safe, enjoyable sex and talking openly about it. This is Rebecca Sugar condones war crimes level discourse over a creator who makes a genuinely good comic and gets dismissed as cringe by people who hate open discussions of sex and gets dismissed as a bigot (in ways that I think are incredibly unfair given the vast majority of her work) among people who *claim* to love open discussions of sex but who *actually* love witch hunts.

[merrybloomwrites]

It's Just a Game, But Really

Summary: When your brother starts dating Taylor Swift, you figure your wild dreams of dating Harry Styles are now definitely crushed. But some meddling from Jason, Travis, and Taylor may make some dreams come true after all.

Word Count: 3K

AN: This idea randomly popped into my head months ago and I couldn't get it out until I fully wrote it. I feel like this falls into the category of "Crack treated seriously" lol

Also, I understand this is niche, but as an Eagles fan (pls don't come for me) I've watched the entire Travis/Taylor relationship unfold and just thought this would be silly. Writing Jason and Travis was pretty fun too since I've been listening to their podcast for years and it was a cool challenge to write in their voices

Finally, I took creative liberty here and while I normally try to keep details as close to reality as possible, I've changed some things. So the Packers vs Eagles game that happened in Brazil now takes place in philly, and the Chiefs game on Christmas is now against Baltimore so it would be plausible to have the dinner scene in PA. None of this actually matters, this is fiction lol

Title from "So High School" by Taylor Swift

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Growing up with two athletic brothers had been quite an experience. Hundreds of hours were spent at sporting events, often bundled up to watch them play ice hockey or attend the late season football games. In your family, it was important that everyone supported each other.

It went the other way as well. Your brothers attended every spring concert, theater performance, and dance recital you were in. They were your biggest fans, always cheering you on and bringing flowers to give you.

They also took time to learn about your interests. Instead of getting annoyed when Taylor Swift’s music would play through the house, they started listening.

Especially Travis.

He liked the music, and thought she seemed pretty cool. He didn’t admit it, but you guessed that maybe he had a bit of a celebrity crush on her.

Life continued to change as your brothers left for college, then moved to different cities when they got signed to two different NFL teams. You missed them, but it was great seeing them succeed.

Jason and Travis still made time for family, even when Jason got married and started a family of his own. You and Kylie became friends right away, and you immediately loved having another girl in the family. You couldn’t wait for it to be Travis’s turn to find someone. But preferably not through his dating show.

When Taylor Swift announced her Eras Tour, you desperately wanted to go. So you were highly disappointed when you weren’t able to get tickets.

And then Travis surprised you with tickets to her show in Kansas City. By this point you had moved in with Jason and Kylie near Philly, but Travis assured you that he’d take care of all the travel logistics to get you to the concert.

You flew in the night before, getting to spend the day with your brother before heading to the stadium. It was weird to be there for a concert, having attended numerous games there before. It was cool to see how it was transformed into something almost unrecognizable.

Being there with Travis meant getting to be seated with a great view in a cordoned off section. It also meant Chiefs fans coming close to the barrier to talk to him before the show. Watching your brother trade friendship bracelets with these people was a strange moment, one you never would have imagined happening.

Through all that, there was one bracelet he had that you noticed he wouldn’t trade. Taking a closer glance you see what’s written on it and give him a confused look.

“Travis, what in the world is this?” you ask.

“Friendship bracelet,” he answers simply, dodging your true question.

“Obviously. But why is your number on here? Who is this for?”

He laughs nervously but before you can press it further another fan comes up to say hi. You can’t help but wonder what his plan is for that bracelet, even though you have a pretty good idea who its intended recipient is.

The concert begins and you have a wonderful time, dancing and singing along, Travis just as excited beside you. As it ends, Travis speaks with one of the staff members, looking slightly disappointed but not too bothered. Once again you’re left wondering what that was all about.

It’s a couple weeks later and you’re listening to the latest episode of Travis and Jason’s podcast when they bring up Travis attending the concert. Sure enough, he confirms he was trying to get that bracelet with his number to Taylor, and you have to commend him on his creativity and optimism.

What you don’t expect is for Taylor to find out about that and get in touch with Travis. Now a year later, your brother is in a happy, committed relationship with Taylor Swift. She’s come to family dinners, you’ve been next to her during Chiefs games, and she’s made it so you could come to a number of concerts on her tour. You cannot believe that this has become your life. And you have to give your brother credit for his powers of manifestation.

One afternoon you’re hanging in the living room while Jason records the podcast in the basement. He calls out for you and you go down to see what’s going on.

He hands you a set of headphones so you can hear Travis as well, and fills you in on the topic.

“So,” Jason begins. “Fans are starting to give you credit for Travis and Taylor getting together. Do you think that’s fair to say?”

You laugh for a moment that this is why you’re called to speak on what should be a sports podcast, before answering, “I think that’s fair. I mean, he did the work but I would say my childhood Swiftie obsession planted the seed.”

Travis replies, “You don’t think I would have found out about her on my own?”

“Oh you totally would have. But I got the ball rolling ages ago. Timing is everything, what if you’d been too late?”

“Alright, I’ll give you that. We can say you had a hand in this.”

“So that means you owe me,” you say.

Jason chimes in, “Yea Trav, your turn to manifest for Y/N.”

“You want me to manifest a boyfriend for our little sister?” Travis questions.

“Oh, right, wait, don’t actually do that. I forgot, Y/N’s not allowed to date until she’s forty,” Jason says, leading you to roll your eyes at his overprotectiveness.

“Ok, but if I were to try, who would it be? Y/N, who’s your celebrity crush?” Travis asks.

There’s no way you’re answering that on camera, especially with who the answer actually is. You clench your teeth and lift your eyebrows before cheekily saying, “Oh, no, I cannot answer that on the pod. That’s uhm. That’d be messy.” You then shrug and laugh, trying to play all of this off as a bit.

While Travis tries to dig and get you to answer, it clicks for Jason and he says, “Wait, I think I know who it is. Is it, uhm-”

“Don’t you dare say anything!” you exclaim to shut him up.

“Alright, alright. I won’t spill your secrets.”

“Well at least tell it to me later,” Travis says, to which you reply, “Absolutely not. I’m afraid you may actually try to meddle.”

“Who, me? No way,” he replies only to be met with an unimpressed look from you.

The boys drop the subject and you head back upstairs as they finally talk about football again.

You assume that they’ve moved on, and you’re happy when they don’t bring up your celebrity crush again.

You’re even happier when Jason tells you he’s taking you to the season opener Eagles vs Packers game in Philly. You’re super excited to be able to experience an Eagles game alongside your brother. You’re also glad you can be there for him in case it’s hard for him to watch them play without him for the first time since his retirement.

What you’re unaware of is the plan that Jason and Travis had made behind your back.

“So now you’re on board with trying to set up our little sister?” Jason had questioned during a phone call a couple weeks prior.

“Yes. And I have a way of making it happen,” Travis had answered.

“And you want me to help Y/N meet and potentially date a popstar who happens to be your girlfriend's ex-boyfriend?”

“Yes.”

“And he’s a Packers fan?”

“Yea, that is the unfortunate part. And you’re not really helping them date. That’s all on them. But you could at least help her meet him at the game.”

“This is ridiculous,” Jason says. “But I’ll do it.”

And that’s how you find yourself walking through the tunnels of the Linc with Jason before the start of the game and bumping into Harry Styles.

“Hello, I’m Harry,” he says cheerfully, holding a hand out for you to shake.

Mustering up all of your chill, you smile in return while reaching out to clasp his hand and say, “I’m Y/N. It’s so nice to meet you, I’m a big fan.”

“Well, thank you for your support,” he says.

“You kids want a picture?” There are few times you want to kill your brother, but him butting in while you’re talking to Harry Styles is definitely one of them.

“That’s alright,” you say, trying not to impose on Harry too much. So you’re surprised when Harry says, “Of course, let’s get a photo!”

You stand next to him, and his arm wraps around your shoulder and you hope your expression doesn’t show how crazy fast your heart is beating while Jason takes the picture.

“It was so nice meeting you both, I’ll see you around!” Harry says as he walks away.

Before Jason can begin to tease you, you say, “Don’t even say a word.”

He listens to you and instead just laughs as you keep walking.

After some quick hellos to the stadium staff, you’re led up to a box.

“I thought we just had seats today?” You question.

“We did. But when I was talking to Mark he said we got upgraded.”

When you step into the box you’re once again surprised by the presence of Harry Styles.

“Okay, we are definitely in the wrong place,” you murmur to your brother.

“Oh good, you guys found us!” Harry says. You look to see who he’s talking to and get shocked to see it’s you and Jason. “There were some open spots so I asked if you two could join us,” he explains.

“Wow, thank you!” You manage to squeak out.

Suddenly you’re realizing what is about to happen. A four minute encounter in the hallway? Easy. An entire three hour football game? There’s no way you make it through without embarrassing yourself.

And yet, halftime comes and you’ve so far managed not to make a fool of yourself. In fact, you’re even impressed by your witty banter as the Eagles and Packers go back and forth taking the lead.

“So, I read about these botanical gardens nearby,” Harry says.

“Longwood?” You ask.

“Yea, have you ever been?”

“A couple times. I went with Jason, Kylie, and the kids earlier this summer. They’re really nice. If you’re thinking about going, I highly recommend.”

“I actually got a couple tickets for the fountain show tomorrow night. I was wondering if you’d like to go with me.”

Quickly processing that Harry is asking you to hang out with him, possibly go on a date with him, you reply, “I’d love to!”

“Fantastic! I can pick you up in the afternoon?”

“Sounds good to me, thank you.”

You exchange phone numbers and give Harry your address, still in disbelief that all of this is actually happening.

The game resumes, and as the Eagles make their comeback you can’t help but cheer and get wrapped up in the game. And even as Harry’s team starts losing, he still stays happy and continues to joke around with you.

When the game ends and the Eagles fans celebrate, you say to Harry, “I hope this doesn’t affect us hanging out tomorrow.”

“Not a chance, in fact I think that will cheer me up,” he says with a smile.

“Hey Y/N, I’ve gotta go talk to a couple people. You hanging here or coming with me?” Of course, there’s your brother interrupting again. And while you’d rather stay with Harry, you don't really want to be separated from Jason in the post-game chaos. So you say goodbye to Harry with the promise to see him the next day.

On your way back home you put up with the teasing from your brother.

You beg him to be on his best behavior when Harry picks you up the next day.

You know he won’t.

So it’s no surprise that he gives Harry “the talk”, telling him that if he hurts you at all then he’ll have to face two NFL players.

You’re hanging in the living room with Kylie and the kids while this happens, and when the two boys come back Kylie asks,”He wasn’t too scary, was he?”

“No,” Harry replies. “Just scary enough I’d say. Shall we get going?” He addresses this last question to you and you agree, more than happy to get out of the house before Jason takes his big brother role too seriously.

When Harry drives away he lets out a deep breath and you say, “You good?”

“Yea, just- Your brother is scary.”

You start to laugh at the fact that Jason managed to actually shake up Harry Styles. But you decide to help him out by saying, “He seems scary, but it’s mostly all talk. Unless you do something to hurt me. Then you should be scared.”

“Oh I feel so much better,” he says, laughing along now.

The two of you have a wonderful time together at the gardens, especially since Harry manages to somehow fly under the radar. The fountain show is fascinating, and you stand together, Harry’s arm around your waist sending butterflies through your belly.

It’s late when you get home, and he walks you to the door like a gentleman.

When he asks if he can kiss you, of course you say yes. He leans in for a soft kiss before saying goodnight, not leaving until you’ve made it safely inside.

Jason is waiting up for you, and as you tell him about your night you watch his gruff exterior fade away. He looks truly pleased by all you have to report and you’re glad that he seems to approve of Harry.

For the next couple of months, it all goes well. Your relationship with Harry flourishes. You get to see him more than expected since he starts working out of a studio in NYC, only two hours away from where you are.

There is one mild bump in the road, occurring on a Friday evening when Jason and Kylie are supposed to be out at a party with the girls.

You’d been planning on a quiet night home alone. But then Harry had surprised you by showing up at your front door, a bouquet of flowers in hand.

One thing led to another, and before you know it you’re both on the couch. You’re straddling his lap, his hands sliding under your shirt as the two of you make out.

As much as Harry had surprised you, Jason surprises you even more by suddenly coming home and walking right into the living room.

Harry notices him first, and in an effort to save this interaction he pushes you off of him, luckily managing to shift you to the open spot next to him on the couch.

There’s a moment of oppressively awkward silence as Jason stares at the two of you, speechless. Without saying a word he walks to the mud room and grabs the diaper bag that had clearly been left behind earlier.

As he passes through the room to leave he says, “You are adults. Just- don’t be stupid. There are enough kids in this house already.”

Without waiting for a reply he leaves the house. After another moment you and Harry break into nervous laughter.

The mood is pretty much ruined but you still have a nice night watching a movie together. Harry stays with you but has to leave at lunchtime the next day.

That afternoon Jason knocks on your bedroom door, asking if he can talk for a minute.

“Sure, what’s up?” You say, not expecting the conversation that follows.

“I just wanted to ask how things are going between you and Harry,” he says.

“Oh! Good! Yea, things are going well. I really like him,” you answer.

“And you’re being safe?”

“Oh my god, Jason! We are not having this conversation,” you say as your cheeks warm at the implication.

“Well you’re living in my house, I just, you know. I feel responsible for your well being.”

“I’m safe. Very safe. You don’t have to worry.” You hope your words will convince him to drop the topic.

“And you trust him? Cause I mean, he’s a big time Popstar. Bet he’s broken a fair number of hearts before.”

You find yourself needing to defend Harry and ask, “Have you had this conversation with Travis about Taylor?”

“Fair point,” he concedes. “I just don’t want you getting hurt. You’re sure about him?”

“I am.”

“Okay then. That’s what matters. I’m only looking out for you.”

“I know. But Harry and I are happy. I promise.”

With that smoothed over, the next few weeks continue drama free.

And then comes Christmas.

Due to scheduling, Harry had yet to meet Travis. You’ve talked to your brother about him, and you know Travis has talked about all of this with Taylor. So while you’ve been told that it’s no big deal that your boyfriend and your brother’s girlfriend are exes, you’re still a bit nervous for Christmas dinner.

It’s a late meal, since you have to wait for Travis to get there after the Chiefs vs Ravens game, and you spend the afternoon entertaining your nieces and helping prepare the food.

Finally Travis and Taylor arrive, and for a moment you can’t help but feel self conscious. The room is full of NFL players and international pop stars. You excuse yourself to the kitchen for a moment to collect yourself. When you walk back to the living room, Harry greets you with the biggest smile, and those feelings of self doubt melt away. Because those big accomplishments and accolades aren’t what matter to him. What he cares about is how kind you are, how fun and loving you are. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, pressing a kiss to your head and you blush knowing your whole family is watching.

But looking up at them you see nothing but support. Your mom is practically glowing seeing all her children with their significant others, and quickly organizes a family picture.

It takes some time to get all three of the little girls to cooperate, and by the time the photo is taken, dinner is ready.

There is something surreal at seeing Harry and Taylor pass the potatoes or bread basket, never having imagined this is how your life would turn out.

But that night, as you all agree to break the internet by posting the family picture, you know you wouldn’t want it any other way.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: I wrote the first half of this as the Eagles lost to the Commanders, thus breaking a 10 game win streak soooo that was a bummer.

I wrote the ending after watching the Eagles beat the Cowboys, so at least that turned back around!

I think this may be the silliest thing I’ve ever written.