pls pls pls!! do a dom jock x sub loser/nerd reader!! i would owe you my life
mean dom jock, loser male reader
alright. now you owe me your life. !!..!.!! i feel liek i havent done alot of jock x so&so. Reason being i think theyre mostly listed as himbos... jocksjocksjocksjocks. ;;; his name is shepard because i fw it!
;;... slight Overstimulation. thighhumping... ... i cannot help it. .. I can. Just don't want to . .
,,, jocks are always subjected to what a lonely nerd yearns for most. a social life...!!
in which you're both envious of the other... for varying different reasons. shepard who's crazy about you - and you, who yeanrs to be as social as he is...! shepard... a simple, stocky-built guy who everyone automatically assumes is a dummy meathead who's secretly aching for a single loser loner and thinks he can't have him just because they're sooo different...! social suicide! isn't he forgetting something? shit like that doesn't matter. pathetic little freak kissing the star of the field... no one would bat an eye - what's he so worried about? ㅡ what you think about him...
fuuck i can't have him, he's jus' soo unattainable as a whole... i bet he hates me. as a charismatic man who's utterly attractive and capable of making the meanest smile... surely he has a chance??!
bemoaning the thought of his poor little freak crush disliking him of all things... just because he's an enemy archetype !! : a meathead who's totally into sports and hanging out with his bros, opposite of you... a lonely little nerd always cowering in your books you're always holding. always suckin down some knowledge. has something else for you to suck on...
just,,, thinking!... what a cute little thing you are. seriously... always by himself; something pitiful who'd never go out with the likes of shepard - his sworn enemy. right...? ,, but at the same time, who would ever deny me? i get all the chicks - so what would a single man be to me? he paused. that's right. why hasn't he done anything about it...?
ㅡ he's literally... him. he can do fucking anything and he'd be praised just because he's a charismatic bonehead as everyone seems to think. but this... for now, this can be between you two. before he tells anyone, everyone that you're his... . Which, you inevitably will be. how could he forget? he's him. !!! could do anything !!
;; "haah, you like that huh?" he coos affectionately, hand roaming underneath your shirt. roving his fingers over your nipples, relishing in the way you shiver and sulk,,, making you sit nicely on his lap - half naked. plump ass sitting so cutely, plush on his thick thigh,,, weeping half-hard cock makin his jeans all wet. makin his precious baby boy sit front and center !! ㅡ "can't cum, hm? you need help?" he questions, grinning lopsidedly as if he wasnt being so lewd. utter heaven... transcending. you were so easy, too. it makes him worry - what if some other guy came up to you and started handling you like this?! he cant stand the thought !!
ㅡ"n-no, i can... i-can..." you assured meekly, leaning forward and he pulls you back against his front. hugging you - to make sure you don't go anywhere. hugging you,,, oh. shifting underneath you, making sure you feel what you're doing to him. relishing in the way you shiver, mewling softly at the mere feeling of his erection,, all embarrassed,,,,
switching to his hand instead. he's sure he can draw out a few more outta you - aint no way is he cutting your time so short; you will be giving him more whether you cum nothing...! drawing out an orgasm and gasping mockingly - ;; "fuuck, that was gross. as expected of some little creep you probably only uses his hands; lil toys - ain't never felt the touch of another person's hand ... right on his cock." he enunciates sweetly - squeezing the base of your overtly sensitive prick and marveling at the girth - relishing in the way you whined, squealed,,, nd pressed your ass into his groin trying to fidget away,,, so snug against his erection, like you're aching for it. all restless and needy against him. . . yeaah, that's it little guy!
cw: Angst to Fluff, Break-Up, Religious guilt, Emotional Distress, Sexual Questioning, Kissing
word count: 2926
Divider Credits: @thecutestgrotto
The fire crackled high against the February night.
Sparks twisted up like desperate prayers toward a sky smeared with stars. The church bonfire party is in full swing; logs stacked in a teepee of flame, families huddled on folding chairs with thermoses of hot cocoa, high school couples wrapped in blankets and each other, whispering secrets that smell like peppermint gum and chocolate.
Laughter bounces off the trees lining the field, mingling with the strum of an acoustic guitar from the youth group leader, who's leading a half-hearted sing-along of hymns reworded to sound folksy.
You're standing a little farther from it all, nursing a Styrofoam cup of cider that's gone lukewarm, watching the flames dance because it's easier than joining the clusters of chatter. Jonah's over there, near the fire's edge, with Clair draped against his side. Jonah's laughing at something she said, head thrown back, shoulders broad under his varsity jacket; but even from here, you can see the tightness in his jaw. The way his hand rests on her waist without really holding on to her.
You've known each other since you were kids. Originally meeting up back in the Sunday School daycare before growing closer in school. He's always been the more outgoing one, the guy who volunteers to stack chairs after events, who prays out loud without stumbling over the words. The one who makes you feel seen in a quiet way, like you're the only person in the room whose opinion matters.
But lately, there's been this undercurrent; glances that linger too long, silences that feel way too heavy to just be casual. You tell yourself it's nothing. Just friendship. Just the way things are.
Then it happens.
Clair pulls away from him abruptly, her voice slicing through the murmur like a knife. "You know what, Jonah? I'm done. Done pretending like you care when you clearly don't." "What?" "You barely look at me anymore! It's like I'm invisible unless someone else is watching."
Heads turn. The guitar strums falter. Families shift uncomfortably, eyes darting between the fire and the unfolding drama. The other couples freeze mid-kiss, whispering already starting like kindling catching flame. Jonah stands there, face flushed in the orange glow, hands half-raised like he's trying to catch something that's already fallen.
"Clair, c'mon-" "No." She yanks the corsage from her wrist; red carnations wilting slightly, and tosses it at his feet. "Find someone who actually wants your half-assed attention. I'm out." She storms off toward the parking lot, heels sinking into the soft grass, leaving a wake of stunned silence. Jonah doesn't chase her. He just stares at the ground, shoulders slumping under the weight of all those eyes.
Whispers ripple out: "What happened?" "I heard he's been distant." "Poor Clair." You hear most of it and feel it in your chest. A pull, like gravity shifting. You set your cup down and weaved through the crowd, ignoring the curious glances. When you reach him, he looks up, eyes raw, probably with tears he’s holding back.
"Hey, you okay?" He swallows, glances around at the watching faces; the parents clucking sympathetically, the couples holding each other a little tighter as if heartbreak is contagious. Then back to you. "No," he admits, voice rough. "I…She..” He looks into your eyes, that same sympathetic look restarting the fire in his chest.
"...Wanna get out of here? Do the maze or something? Just...away from this."
You nod. Because it's Jonah. Because saying yes to him has always felt like the simplest choice in the world. He falls into step beside you as you head toward the entrance of the town's Valentine maze. The bonfire fades behind you, but the heat of the moment lingers, bubbling under his skin, waiting for the quiet dark to let it rise.
The maze walls are taller than they looked from the entrance; cheap plywood painted green, fake ivy stapled on in uneven patches, but right now they feel like they’re closing in. Jonah’s boots scuff the path beside yours. He’s walking too close, even if he’s pretending he isn’t.
He hasn’t said much since you left the bonfire. Just grunted when you asked if he wanted to do the maze anyway, then fell into step like it was already decided. His hands keep flexing at his sides. The red-and-white carnation boutonniere his now-ex pinned to his jacket this afternoon is still there, petals already browning at the edges. He hasn’t touched it. Hasn’t taken it off either.
You turn a corner. Dead end. A wooden sign nailed to the wall reads 'YOU’RE LOST, HAHA' in peeling letters. Jonah stops short, shoulders rigid.
“Should’ve known,” he mutters. “Whole night’s been a joke.”
You glance at him. The string lights catch the sharp line of his jaw, the way his mouth is pressed thin. He’s still staring at the sign like it personally insulted him.
“You okay?” you ask again.
He laughs once; short & bitter. “Yeah. Perfect. My girlfriend publicly dumps me on Valentine’s Day, town throws an entire party for couples, and I drag you in here like…” He cuts himself off. Swallows. “Like an idiot.”
“You didn’t drag me. I wanted to come.”
He finally looks at you. Really looks. The anger in his eyes flickers, something raw sliding underneath it. “Why?” You shrug. “Because it’s you.”
That hits him harder than it should. You see it in the way his throat works, the way his hands curl into fists then open again like he doesn’t know what to do with them. He takes a step closer. The space between you shrinks until you can smell the woodsmoke still clinging to his hoodie, the faint cedar of his cologne he only wears when he’s nervous.
“I keep thinking,” he says, voice low, “if I’d been better. Different. Prayed harder. Been less...” He stops. Shakes his head. “She said I was ‘emotionally unavailable.’ Like it’s a diagnosis. Like I’m broken.”
“You’re not broken.” His laugh is quieter this time. Almost a exhale. “You always say shit like that. Like it’s easy.” “It’s not easy, it’s true.”
He’s quiet for a long beat. The maze is silent except for the distant laughter from the bonfire and the soft pop of bulbs overhead. Somewhere a kid shrieks in mock terror. Jonah doesn’t move away. “I didn’t want to come here with her,” he says suddenly. “Not really. I wanted-” He stops again. Jaw flexes. “Doesn’t matter.”
“It matters.”
His eyes snap to yours. Dark. Searching. Scared.
“...I wanted to be here with you,” he says, so quiet you almost miss it. “And that’s fucked up. I know it’s fucked up. I’m supposed to-I’m supposed to want the right things. The normal things. But every time she kissed me I kept thinking about-” He cuts off. Looks away. Voice drops to a rasp. “About how it didn’t feel like this.”
“Like what?”
He doesn’t answer right away. Just breathes. Slow. Shaky.
“Like I’m drowning and you’re the only thing keeping my head above water.” The words hang there. Heavy. Honest in a way Jonah almost never lets himself be. He takes another half-step. Now your backs are almost touching the plywood. Nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide.
“I don’t know what this is,” he says. “I don’t know what I’m allowed to call it. But if you tell me to stop...if you tell me to walk away right now. I will. I’ll do it. Even if it kills me.” His hand lifts. Hesitates. Then settles, very lightly, against the side of your neck. Thumb brushing the edge of your jaw. He’s shaking.
“I’m so fucking tired of pretending,” he whispers. “I’m tired of being good. I just want to be yours.”
The lights flicker again. Somewhere deeper in the maze someone calls out for their partner. Jonah doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe. Just waits; terrified, hopeful, armored and bleeding all at once, for whatever you’re going to do next.
Your hand comes up slowly; carefully. You don’t grab his wrist or push him away. You just rest your palm over the back of his hand where it cradles your neck, not holding, not pulling, just…there. Acknowledging. The warmth of your skin against his knuckles makes him flinch like he’s been burned, but he doesn’t pull back.
Jonah’s breathing is uneven now, shallow little hitches he can’t quite control. His thumb keeps tracing the same small arc along your jaw, over and over, like he’s memorizing the shape of you in case this vanishes when he blinks.
“I don’t know how to do this right,” he says, voice cracking on the last word. “I’ve spent so long trying to be the guy who doesn’t fuck up, who doesn’t want the wrong thing, that I don’t even know what wanting the right thing feels like anymore. But you…” His eyes search yours, desperate. “You’ve always felt right. Even when I told myself it was wrong. Even when I hated myself for it.”
You don’t speak. You rarely do when the air gets this thick; words feel too clumsy, too easy to get wrong. Instead you tilt your head just enough that his thumb slides higher, brushing the shell of your ear. It’s permission without saying the word. Jonah makes a small, broken sound in his throat. He leans in until his forehead rests against yours. Eyes closed. Like he’s praying and cursing at the same time.
“I used to think if I just tried harder,” he whispers, “if I dated the right girl, went to the right youth group, prayed the right prayers… it would go away. This feeling. But it never did. It just got quieter when you weren’t around, and louder every time you looked at me like I was worth something.” His free hand finds your waist; hesitant at first, then firmer. The carnation on his jacket brushes your sleeve; one wilted petal detaches and flutters to the dirt between your shoes.
“I’m sorry,” he says suddenly, voice raw. “For all the times I pretended this was nothing. For all the times I let you think you were just…safe backup. You were never backup. You were the only thing that ever made sense.”
You feel the tremor in his fingers, the way his whole body is coiled like he’s waiting for judgment. You know this Jonah: the one who expects punishment because that’s what he’s been taught love looks like when it goes off-script. The one who’ll take whatever scraps of forgiveness you'd offer and call it grace.
Your other hand lifts. Settles against his chest, right over his heart. It’s hammering so hard you can feel it through the hoodie, through the layers he’s always wearing like armor. You don’t say 'it’s okay.' You don’t say 'I forgive you.' Those are the easy words, the ones that smooth everything over without asking what’s underneath. Instead you say, quiet & steady,
“Then stop pretending.”
Jonah’s breath catches. His eyes snap open, inches from yours, wide and stunned like he didn’t expect language to still exist in this moment. You don’t look away.
“You said you want to be mine,” you murmur. “So be mine. Not the version everyone else expects. Not the version you think you’re supposed to be. Just…you. The one who’s scared right now. The one who’s holding on like I might disappear.”
His mouth opens, closes. No sound comes out at first. Then, very softly:
“I don’t deserve that.”
You shake your head once. Small. Certain. “I’m not giving it because you deserve it. I’m giving it because I want to. Because I’ve wanted to for longer than I knew how to name.”
The string lights buzz overhead. Somewhere far off, a group laughs, footsteps retreating toward the exit. The maze feels suddenly smaller, the walls softer, like the world is giving you this one narrow passage of time before it demands you decide what comes next.
Jonah’s hand on your neck slides around to the back, fingers threading gently into your hair. Not pulling. Just holding. Like he’s finally allowing himself to want without apology.
He doesn’t kiss you. Not yet.
He just stays there, forehead to forehead, breathing you in like oxygen after too long underwater. And when he finally speaks again, it’s barely a whisper, cracked open and reverent:
“Okay.”
One word. Simple. Terrifying. But it’s his.
And now, it’s yours.
He stays exactly where he is; forehead pressed to yours, hand curved around the nape of your neck like it’s the only thing tethering him to the planet, until the silence stretches long enough that it starts to feel like its own answer. Then, slowly, he exhales. The sound is shaky, relieved, like he’s been holding his breath since the bonfire.
“Okay,” he says again, softer this time. Testing the word. Tasting it.
You feel the corner of your mouth lift, just a little. He pulls back enough to look at you properly. His eyes are still wide, still scared, but there’s something new underneath it now: wonder. Like he’s seeing you for the first time without the filter of guilt.
He doesn’t let go of you completely. His hand slides from your neck to your shoulder, then down your arm until his fingers find yours. He threads them together carefully. His palm is warm. A little damp. He’s still nervous. “C’mon,” he murmurs. “Let’s get out of here before some drunk freshman finds us and makes it weird.” You let him tug you forward. He doesn’t drop your hand.
The maze twists again; left, then right, then a narrow passage where the plywood walls are so close your shoulders nearly brush both sides at once. Jonah slows without meaning to, crowding you against the fake ivy so he can peer around the next corner first. Protective. Always protective. Even now, when the only danger is maybe running into his ex or one of his teammates who’d never let him live this down.
He glances back at you. “You alright?” You nod. Squeeze his hand once. He nods back, like that’s enough, and keeps moving.
A few turns later the path opens into a small clearing: a wooden bench under a single string of red heart lights, a laminated sign that reads 'YOU MADE IT! TAKE A SELFIE AND TAG #MAZEOFLOVE.' There’s a heart-shaped cutout in the plywood behind the bench for photos. Jonah stops short. He looks at the cutout. Then at you. Then at your joined hands
“Think anyone’s coming?” he asks quietly. You listen. The bonfire noise is fainter now, muffled by layers of wood and distance. No footsteps. No voices close by.
He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Then he steps forward, pulling you with him until you’re both standing in front of the heart frame. He doesn’t pose for a photo. Doesn’t even look at the camera spot. He just turns to face you fully, free hand coming up to twist a finger through your hair.
“I’ve thought about this,” he admits, voice low. “Not…this exact spot. But being alone with you. No one watching. No one to disappoint. Just us.” His thumb traces your lower lip, feather-light. “I always pictured I’d say something perfect. Something poetic or whatever. But all I’ve got is...'I’m sorry it took me so long.' And I’m terrified I’m still gonna fuck it up.”
You shake your head once. “You couldn’t. I trust you to handle me well. And if something goes awry…I’ll be there. Just like I’ve always been.” He swallows. “Can I-?”
You don’t make him finish the question. You rise onto your toes, just enough, and close the last inch between you.
The kiss is soft. Careful. The way you touch everything that matters to you. Jonah makes a quiet, stunned sound against your mouth, and then he’s kissing you back, slow and deep and trembling with everything he’s been holding back for years. One of his hands finds the small of your back. The other cups your face like you’re glass. He doesn’t rush. Doesn’t push. Just lets the moment stretch, lets himself feel it without a hint of shame.
When you finally part, just enough to breathe, his forehead drops to yours again. He’s smiling. “Still okay?” he whispers. You nod. Rest your hand over his heart again. It’s still racing, but steadier now.
He laughs under his breath; quiet, disbelieving. “This is so stupid. We’re in a cheesy Valentine’s maze and…kissin’ in it…” “Yeah,” you say, smiling against his mouth. “We really are.”
He kisses you this time. Quickly. Like he’s testing if he’s allowed to do it whenever he wants now. Then he pulls back, glances at the exit sign glowing faintly at the end of the next path.
“Wanna get out of here?” he asks. “Or…stay a little longer?”
You look up at him. At the way the red lights catch in his eyes. At the carnation still clinging stubbornly to his jacket like it doesn’t know the night’s already changed.
You squeeze his hand. “Let’s stay. Just a little longer.”
Jonah exhales like he’s been given absolution. He doesn’t let go of you once. Not for the rest of the maze. Not even when the path finally spits you out near the bonfire and the cold February air hits your faces and you both remember the rest of the world exists.
He just keeps your hand in his, certain, no more pretending, and walks you back into the night like he’s finally allowed to belong somewhere.
a/n: This was sweet. That’s good. I think Jonah should get sweet things, especially with what Part 2 has in store for him…
Hi there do you think you can do a part two of the yan jock Jason?
Sure thing! I definitely did not wait a year and a half to write this request, definitely not. I hope you enjoy it either way lol, and sorry for making you wait so long!
Also I wasn't sure if I should have made this post more yandere esque than the first one, but I decided to keep it at relatively the same level. I hope that's ok!
Yandere Jock! With A Bottom Reader
Part one can be found here!
Minors DNI!
Male! Reader
Warnings: NSFW, overstimulation, biting, marking, degradation, rough sex, dirty talk, anal sex, handjobs, jealousy, possessiveness, creampie, yandere tendencies leak through what Jason says but reader doesn't realize how far it goes, bad aftercare, Jason's ass at it ngl, bathing, insults, mentions of punishment, mentions of giving head, Jason's an asshole.
Divider credit goes to @strangergraphics
“Fuck, Jason, it’s too much, gotta–gotta slow down–”
A sharp thrust from your boyfriend had you moaning the last syllable of your sentence, loud and unashamed in its intensity. From where you were positioned, you could just barely make out the shape of Jason’s moving body, obscured only by the thick, salty liquid blurring your gaze. Even with your limited sight, you could see the shit-eating grin spreading across his face, a sharp blob standing out dramatically on his flushed face.
“Are you fucking serious?” Jason pants in your ear, throwing one of your legs haphazardly over his well-muscled shoulder. Without his jersey on, you have a much better view of how sweaty his dark skin had become, dripping down his toned chest in defined rivelets. You should have expected it, with how much he’d been exerting himself throughout the day, but it was a welcome sight nonetheless. “You really want me to slow down? After all those pretty, fucked up noises you’ve been making? I don’t think so. Come on, I know you’ve got another orgasm in you. Just gotta let me take care of you until I decide you’re done, got it?”
You open your mouth to bite back, a protest on your lips, but the harsh pushing of Jason’s hips against your pelvis replaced it with another groan of pleasure, overtaking any words you might have spewed his way. You should have known it was going to go like this. You should have known that Jason would have more steam to blow off after his big game, steam he couldn’t possibly burn without your help. The round he had sprung on you in the college’s locker room should have been indicator enough. But no matter how many games Jason played, no matter how many times you were called upon to help him use the last of his energy, you always forgot how demanding he could be, pulling more and more from you until there was almost nothing left for you to give. Which was what he was doing now, and would continue to do for who knows how long. The round in the locker room was just a precursor to what was to come. The real event wasn’t in motion until you stepped foot into Jason’s apartment, rushing to his room before you could even check if his roommate was home.
Now you’re on your back, lying in Jason’s messy, unmade bed, four orgasms deep with a fifth one soon to come.Your boyfriend was buried deep inside your ass, your sensitive cock was rubbing painfully against the stained sheets, and your head was thrown back against one of his plush pillows, the only softness your body had experienced since you had started this whole mess. You can’t see yourself, but you were sure you must look like a mess, with your bruised skin and your cum-stained body, a mingle of your fluids as well as Jason’s coating your grimy skin.
And then there was Jason. Jason, who didn’t look even a little tired, even as he pounded into you for the sixth time that day. Jason, who had somehow retained enough energy to completely destroy you, even after giving his all during his football game only hours before. Jason, who was making it his life’s mission to exhaust you completely, drawing orgasm after orgasm out of your tired body. It was almost like he thrived off of your overstimulation, growing more and more energetic the more overwhelmed you became. It wouldn’t surprise you. After all, he always enjoyed pushing you to your limits.
“Awe, poor baby. You too tired to make any noise for me? What happened to all that screaming you were doing earlier? Don’t tell me your throat hurts too much. You’ve never been one to let the pain stop you, have you?”
Speaking of which…
You try to let out another garbled whine, wincing at how hoarse your voice sounds to your muffled ears. Your throat did hurt, but your boyfriend wasn’t entirely right either. You just didn’t have any voice left to use. You had spent the past couple hours calling out for him and moaning into the pillow, so much so that your voice couldn’t keep up with the constant pressure it was under. “C–Can’t. I can’t…”
“Can’t what?” He mocks, placing a condescendingly comforting hand on your stomach. His fingers trace little patterns and shapes on the top of your skin, sliding through the sweat that had accumulated there with practiced ease. “Can’t speak? Poor thing. You getting tired already?”
A jolt of shock flashes through your rocking body, followed by the slight gnawing cold of panic in your stomach. Already? He was surprised you were getting tired already? Really? Did he consider four full orgasms to be just the start of a wild, night-long endeavor of pleasure and lust? Was he planning on putting you through…god, you didn’t want to think about how many more rounds he might have in store for you. Not that you minded, at least, not normally, but there was only so much your battered body could take…
You intend to tell Jason this, the bright beginnings of a squeak building up in your throat, but before you could utter a sound, a malicious cackle fills the humid air, rubbing against your eardrums like nails on a chalkboard. From your tear-filled eyes, you can see Jason grinning even wider than before, his face contorted in a mean, intimidating show of amusement.
“Hah! You should see the look on your face right now! You look fucking petrified! Come on baby, you know I’m just teasing, right? This many rounds is a lot, even for me. Not as much as it is for you clearly, but still…”
He chuckles again, and this time you can see the hand on your stomach inching downwards, slowly sliding towards your hard, leaking cock. Fuck, no, not again, seriously, how much torture is e planning on putting you through–
“I gotta admit though, it’s a little infuriating, seeing how pitiful you’re acting while I stand here, doing all the work for you.” Jason continues, his smile growing impossibly wide at the way your eyes widen before him. “I mean, what have you done all day, huh? I played a long, hard game of football. I carried the team to victory when nobody else could. I’ve been doing all the work here, making sure you get off time and time again. And here you are, laying on my bed and taking my cock like you deserve it, like you’ve done anything worthy of being rewarded! And you’re the one who’s tired! Tell me, what did you do today, huh? What did you do that left you in such a miserable state? It couldn’t be just me: There’s no way you’re pathetic enough to go comatose from some sex, right? So what did you do? Come on, what’d you do?”
As if in a spell of his own making, Jason picks up the pace, slamming into you at an unreal speed while you whine and moan into the sheets below. You can just barely make out the sound of his balls slapping against your ass, the wet squelching noise annunciated by the thick loads he had already shot deep into your ass. It mingled well with the combined sounds of your heavy breathing, only making your cock ache something fierce as it twitched against your stained stomach.
Jason didn’t seem to be focused on the sounds he was making though. You weren’t sure he was even paying attention to the sounds you were making. He was too busy glaring daggers into your soul, sweat dripping from his black hair as he pulled closer to your trembling body.
“Fuckin nothing, that’s what you did. If you didn’t feel so good…If I didn’t want my reward so badly… I would slip a cock ring on you and make you suck me off until I decided I’d had enough. At least then you’d be working for all I’m giving you. It wouldn’t be as much effort as I’ve put into today, not even close, but it would be better than nothing. But I can’t go back now, can I? So instead…”
Before you could react, Jason’s slow–moving hand suddenly shot out, grasping the head of your dick with leg-weakening strength. It wasn’t enough to be painful, not truly anyway, but it was enough to have you gasping for breath, your overstimulated cok throbbing desperately in his hand.
“...Yeah, this’ll work.” Jason nodded to himself, his smirk echoing in his voice. He kept his pace up all the while, determined to rearrange your insides while he tortured your poor, cum-strained member. “I’ll just have to keep fucking with this little thing instead. It’s not as good of a punishment as I would want, but it’ll do for now."
You whine, squirming erratically in Jason’s unyielding gasp. You loved your boyfriend, you really did, but it never ceased to amaze you how cruel he could be. “Fuck, Jason, I’m…I’m sensitive, please–”
But Jason wasn’t listening. Or if he was, he didn’t care. He was too busy moving his hand up and down your cock, teasing the head of it softly with the pad of his thumb. Unlike his thrusts, the movement was slow; deliberate. Almost gentle, if you didn’t know the extension behind his actions. “Come on babe. You’re gonna behave for me, right? After all the trouble you’ve caused me today? After the way you flirted with my teammates? Don’t you think you owe me that one little thing?”
For a moment, all the pleasure you're experiencing gets overtaken by an amused sort of annoyance, your eyes rolling into the back of your skull. It had been four full rounds since you two had left the locker room, the fifth well under way, and he was still on about his teammates. No matter how you reassured him that you weren’t flirting with them, he wouldn’t drop the subject. But you had already told him you hadn’t done anything! You hadn’t even known they could hear you, cheering for Jason (and only Jason) from the stands. You knew he knew you hadn’t meant to do anything but show your support for him, so why was he still hung up on the whole ordeal? He was a jealous man, you had known that for a while, but seriously, couldn’t he just drop it, after what felt like so long?
You didn’t know. You weren’t sure he was capable of dropping it, not when you were concerned. All you knew is that if you wanted to cum anytime soon, you needed to keep your thoughts to yourself, safe from Jason’s judgemental stare.
Luckily, Jason doesn’t seem to notice the motion your eyes made, nor any twitches in your face that might have given your thoughts away. Or maybe he just attributed it to your increasingly painful pleasure. Either way, you weren’t planning on correcting him, not when he was already torturing you in the most delicious way possible. “Well? Can’t find your voice? Come on baby, you were able to squeak something out for me a minute ago. What changed?”
He gives your cock another vigorous squeeze, and you moan again, your voice scratchy and hoarse in your ears. “I didn’t–didn’t mean…Jason, you know–”
“Know what?” He squeezes again, this time dragging his thumb teasingly against your slit. The sensation almost has you keening, from pleasure or from the overwhelming sensitivity, you can’t be sure. “That you weren’t–hoy fuck, that felt good, keep moving your ass like that–that you weren’t trying to get their attention? You’ve made that pretty clear over the past couple hours. But that doesn’t mean you didn’t attract their attention, and as far as I care, that’s all that matters.”
“But…But I didn’t mean–”
Before you can get out your sentence, Jason surges forward, his teeth flashing briefly before they sink into the flesh on your shoulder. A second later, bright bursts of pain shoot through the nearby skin, the burn closest to where Jason’s teeth are resting. Just another thing you should be used to, after such a long night. You’re positive the mark Jason’s sure to leave behind will go nicely with the other bite marks he’s left on your skin throughout the night, as well as the hickeys and the scratches. Still, despite their frequency, you just couldn’t get fully desensitised to the pain, no matter how often Jason claimed you as his…
“What you meant doesn’t mean shit,” Jason mumbles around your skin, his jaw pinching your skin one last time before pulling away, leaving a new, reddened mark to shine in the glint of his saliva. You can almost feel the way his eyes bore into your shoulder, admiring the mark with proud, cocky eyes. “All that matters is the result. And the result was them mooning over you like you were a fresh piece of meat, free for the taking. But they’re wrong. You’re mine. My boy. You don’t belong to any of them, not while I’m still here to claim you. You know that. You know that. There’s no way you couldn’t. I’ve drilled it into you enough that even a dumb fuck like you could remember it!”
Suddenly, the hand around your cock speeds up, jerking you off at a shockingly fast pace. There’s no more squeezing, no more gentle caressing, no more tortuous teasing to leave you high and dry. But the change was almost worse: You had gotten so used to the sweet agony that the change was too much to bear, the new speed sending painful tingles of ecstasy through your rock-hard dick. It has you gasping where you lay, your voice cracking and your hands clawing desperately at the sheets crumpled below you.
“Jason! Fuck, too fast, I can’t…I’m gonna cum, I can’t–”
“Say it!” He interrupts, both his hand and his hips speeding up to what you think might be the fastest he can go. There was no more teasing amusement in his voice, no more pride in his cutting words. Only possessiveness, so thick you felt it could throttle the last of your quickly escaping breath from your throat. “Say you know it! Say you’re mine! Say you belong to me, and only to me! Come on, say it! Say it!”
“I’m…I’m yours…Fuck, Jason, I swear I’m only yours!” You whimper, slapping your right hand over your gaping mouth. Rough, strangled noises were pouring from your throat again, completely uncaring of any soreness that might have hindered them before. The intensely thunderous look on Jason’s face was enough to have you throbbing in his hand, on the verge of busting for the sixth time that day. Maybe it was unhealthy, but you loved how dominating Jason could be, especially when he let his jealousy dictate his actions. He never failed to bring you to your peak when he got like this, determined to prove he was all you would ever need. And he was. For all your whining, you couldn’t imagine anyone else making you feel as good as your boyfriend did, torturing your cock in the way you so desperately needed. Maybe his jealousy was unwarranted. But so what? As long as he kept slamming into you the way he was…as long as he kept stroking your cock so skillfully… “I know, and I’m yours! I don’t want anyone but you, please, I’m yours, you gotta believe me, I’m yours!”
Jason didn’t say anything for a moment. He just kept jerking you off, his balls slapping loudly against your ass as he pounded into your sore hole. Then slowly, very slowly, his infamous grin returned, teeth flashing menacingly in the light of his room.
“Don’t worry baby, I believe you. In fact, maybe I’ve been a bit too hard on you. Here, lay back and let me take care of you. After all, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t get you off? I’m not that shitty, you know?”
You let out another whine as Jason presses himself into you, leaning down until your chests are almost touching. It takes you a moment to realize that his free hand has placed itself in yours, but once you do, you waste no time in curling your fingers around his, holding on for dear life as you let your impending orgasm draw closer and closer to fruition. “Jason, fuck, it feels so good, keep–keep doing that–”
“I know baby, I know,” Jason murmurs, his voice unusually soft. You can’t tell if he’s trying to be condescending, but you don’t care. Everything feels too good to dwell on silly things, especially something as insignificant as his tone. Come on, let yourself go. I love seeing how good I make you feel. You make–fuck, with the way you’re squeezing me, you make me feel fucking fantastic. Let yourself cum in my hand. Come on, cum with me babe, cum with me–”
Jason’s pace suddenly becomes unsteady, his hips stuttering ever-so-slightly against your back. He’s close, and so are you. You can feel it in your groin, the familiar waves of pleasure, shooting through your nerves until you feel like you’ll burst, the tightening in your balls as you prepare to shoot your load onto your boyfriend–
“Damnit, Jason, I’m gonna cum, gonna make a mess–”
“I know,” he grunts, his own teeth gritted as he chases his own high. His lips hover just above yours, prepared to press down as soon as the right moment strikes. I’m gonna cum too. Gonna cum in that perfect little hole of yours. Just keep squeezing around me like that…Fuck, that’s it, that’s it, gonna cum, gonna fill you up, you’re mine, you hear me, you’re mine–”
You nod your head erratically, bucking into Jason’s hand as the last tell-tale pangs of pleasure creep through your cock, preparing it for the load it’s soon going to shoot in Jason’s warm hand. You’re on the edge of your own peak, and you refuse to let it be ruined, refuse to lose the pleasure Jason had been kind enough to give you, you need to cum, you need to cum now– “Fuck, fuck, mm gonna cum, I’m cumminmphhh!”
Your words become muffled as Jason finally presses his lips to yours, kissing you fast and rough as your cock twitches painfully in his hand. A moment later, you’re whining into his mouth uncontrollably, cum spurting pathetically from the tip of your cock as his hips bang into yours, still chasing his high as desperately as you had. It sent more jolts of pleasure up your spine, aiding you in riding out your orgasm as you drained yourself on Jason’s hand.
“Look at that,” Jason pants, briefly parting with you to look at the cum staining his hand. He almost seems proud, grinning down at the mess your spent cock made, the last drops you could spare dripping leisurely down his fingers. “Such a mess. Should’ve known, after how dirty you've made my bed. Gonna have to get you to clean that up later. Gonna make you–shit, hang on, gotta…gotta cum–”
Jason thrusts into you one final time before stilling dramatically, a loud, relieved groan leaving his lips. Despite how spent your ass is, you can still feel the warm, full sensation of his cum spilling into your hole, flooding your insides with yet another reminder of Jason’s hold on you. It looked like he had reached his high too. Hopefully his last for the night, after all the rounds you had endured. You weren’t sure if you could survive another one, pleasure or no pleasure.
Just as you had that thought, the hand around your dick began to stir again, slowly jerking up and down the shriveling organ. The cum seeping into his hold only made the motion smoother, sending painful jolts through your twitching thighs.
“Jason! Can’t…still too sensitive…”
The hand continues for a moment more, Jason’s tired eyes glinting with glee as you weakly moaned and twitched in his hold. He only stops when you try to place a halting hand on his, its movement shaky but urgent in its pace.
“Ok, ok. I gotcha. It’s too much for you’re pathetic dick, I get it. I still gotta pull out though, so prepare yourself for that. Hold on…”
Jason only gives you a second to breathe before he pulls out of your hole, his dick sliding out as easily as it had gone in. Almost immediately, the cum that had been trapped moments before began to leak out, pouring down your ass in sticky rivers of white. Both sensations had you shivering where you lay, your body breaking out into oversensitive goosebumps in the cold apartment air.
“There,” he breathes, slowly pulling away. Unlike how you feel, his movements are graceful and effortless, no indication of exhaustion on his face. The only abnormal thing about his body is the sweat coating his skin, still dripping from his dark hair with every other movement. Besides that, he looked no different than he had earlier, fresh off the field after his game. “I’m out. You need a break? Or are you ready for another round, as soon as you get hard again?”
Your breath catches in your throat, panic gathering in your gut. Another round? He didn’t mean it, did he? Surely he wasn’t…Surely he didn’t expect you to… “A…Another? You want…You want to go again?”
“Awe, you don’t wanna keep going? You too tired to keep it up? Come on, I thought you liked me more than that.” Jason smiles, his eyes gleaming harshly down at you. He looks ten feet tall standing above you like that, naked and panting in the soft glow of the lamp. “I was kidding babe. I know you’re too tired. To tell you the truth, so am I. All that exercise has got me beat. I’m satisfied for the night.”
With that, he turns around, no longer interested in you and your messy body. Instead, he heads for the nearby closet, opening the door and rummaging around for something inside. You think he might be looking for clean clothes to wear, but before you can ask him, a towel comes flying in your direction, landing square on your heaving chest.
“There. Clean yourself up once you have the energy. You look like a wreck. You smell like one too.”
A ripple of surprised annoyance shoots through you, the first genuine negative emotion you’d had all day. You’re so annoyed that you let the towel remain where it sits, lying heavy on your twitching stomach. “...What? That’s it? You’re just gonna make me wipe myself up?”
“...Yeah?” Jason turns to you, his eyebrows furrowed. You can’t tell if he’s faking his confusion or not, but the expression pisses you off, all the same. “What else would I do?”
“I don’t know, run us a bath, maybe? Wouldn’t that be more effective at cleaning me off? And you?”
Jason stares at you a moment longer, eyes trained intensely on you. Then, he slowly makes his way back to the bed, his footsteps hesitant as he comes to stand at the foot of his mattress. “...Ok. If you want, we can do that. I guess we made enough of a mess to warrant that. Here, grab my hand. You look like you’ll topple over if you try to get up yourself.”
He reaches out a hand for you to take, and you do, rolling your eyes as he helps pull you to your feet. You know the two of you didn’t do aftercare often, most of the time you both cuddled after sex until one of you fell asleep, but still, was he really that clueless? “...Thanks.”
“...No problem.” He waits until you steady yourself before setting off, leading you slowly to the nearby bathroom. He doesn’t look at you, nor does he say anything more. He just walks beside you, leading you into the bathroom before starting the bath with steady hands.
It’s not until the bath has been drawn and the two of you settle down into the warm water that he speaks again, his voice rough and hesitant in its tone.
“Did you mean it? When you said you belonged to me? You really don’t have eyes for anyone else?”
“Hmm?” You hum in confusion, shuffling closer to Jason’s body. Your head is lying on his chest, and you almost don’t hear his words over his heartbeat, consistent and lulling in your ear. The shock of his lackluster aftercare had worn off long ago. You were just happy to be near him, washing yourself off with more than just a measly towel. “Course I meant it. I meant it when I said I wasn’t trying to flirt with your teammates either. Who else would I wanna be with?”
Jason remained silent for a long time. The only noise you could hear was his continuous heartbeat, followed by the dull sloshing of water. It almost scared you when he finally grunted noncommittally, his arm slinging haphazardly over your naked back.
“...Nothin. Was just wondering if you really meant it when you said you were mine. Because you are. You’re mine. Always. Got it?”
You hum again, pressing a comforting kiss to your boyfriend’s chest. Him and his stupid jealousy. He really wasn’t going to let it go anytime soon, was he? “Got it. I’m yours, forever and always.”
A breath escapes Jason’s nose, but he doesn’t reply. Instead, he uses his arm to pull you closer, bringing your head right under his upturned chin. It’s a nice position to be in. You feel close to him that way. Loved. Much more relaxed than you did earlier, when he was rearranging your guts. Not that you were upset. You enjoyed those moments too, when you were as in the mood as you were before.
You settle in, letting yourself get comfortable in your boyfriend's hold. You don’t see the possessive glint in his eyes as he looks down at you, his gaze never leaving your body. You don’t feel the strength behind his hold, ready to lock you next to him if you make one wrong move. All you feel is the warm water lapping at your body and the smooth skin resting against your own, warming you after such a long day. And you’re content with that. You’re with your boyfriend, who for all his rough edges, seems to care about you more than he lets on. You’re in a bath, warming up while cleaning the grime for your body. What else could you ask for?
Sighing contentedly, you nuzzle your nose in the junction of Jason’s throat, smile as he kisses your forehead, and let yourself drift into oblivion, your thoughts slipping slowly from your elated mind.
🏈Brandon was the star player in the school football team, who had his pick of anyone he wanted because of his good looks and talent in sports.
🏈He was used to short relationships that meant seemingly nothing, it was always just them walking up to him all flustered, him flirting, then a one-night stand or two, then a breakup that left them either a sobbing mess or with a burning hatred for the jock, either way, he thought nothing of them in the long run.
🏈He was sitting with the rest of the football team during lunch when he saw you. He wasn't sure if you were new or not, there were many people in the school that he didn't pay any attention to, so seeing you for the first time made him intrigued.
🏈You were sitting alone in one of the tables close to the corner to get some much-needed peace and quiet when you feel a weight on the bench next to you. You turn and see Brandon, a member of the football team. You raise a brow at him while taking a bite out of your food.
🏈The fact that you seemed so uninterested in his presence was amusing to him and he started making small talk to you, a little teasing and playful insults sprinkled in, perhaps some flirting if you squint.
🏈But all you did was reply to his questions about your life in the driest ways possible with absolutely no interest in conversation with a playboy like him.
🏈You've heard of him before from some friends of yours, how he's fucked probably half of the cheerleading squad and had a lengthy history of chatting up girls just to fuck them and leave. All of this and the way he presented himself to you as some stuck-up douche who's only talking to you in order to make fun of you made you annoyed and a bit revolted by him.
🏈Brandon on the other hand couldn't get enough of you. The more he talked to you the more interested he was about you as a person. You were modest, you had interesting tastes in music, you had cool hobbies he's never heard of before from anyone he's talked to in the past, and most of all you were...beautiful.
🏈You weren't that different from everyone else compared to looks, sure you were a bit prettier but average nonetheless, why does he think you're so cute all of a sudden?
🏈the bell rang, and you immediately stood up to walk to class, much to the jock's dismay.
🏈He takes your hand before to went off with a gentle but tight grip.
🏈"uh...so you like, have good english scores right? You think you could tutor me sometime?"
🏈Ohhhhhh so that's why he talked to you, because you were a nerd and he needed you to copy homework from.
🏈You offer your English essay, but he refuses, asking if you were available to help him to make his own.
🏈You were pleasantly surprised to say the least, you never thought someone like him would choose tutoring instead of copying from someone else for an easy A+.
🏈You let out a small laugh and smiled at him. "huh, Alright. See you after school then..." You then run off in hopes you wouldn't be late to your next period.
🏈Brandon stood there a bit frazzled, why did he say that? Why does he want to be tutored all of a sudden? Why was your smile so precious? Why is his face heating up???
🏈Before he could get his thoughts together, his friends approached him, ushering him to start moving or else he'll be given another detention. He snapped out of his confused state and tried to laugh off the thoughts of you swirling around his head.
🏈Who the hell were you to make him feel so...good?
an: making a part 2 soon, probably, hopefully. requests are open so feel free to give any suggestions of more funny lads to write about!
contents: rich frat bro!seth x fem!weird girl!reader, college smau, enemies to lovers shenanigans,
warnings: seth is genuinely an asshole, they come out the gate swinging with the aggression so there's a lot of cussing and rude/mean language
make sure you keep up to date with the latest campus gossip on LakeLeaks!
pre-relationship texts take place over a 5 day time span.
☆༉ — BLU taglist: click here to be added to the taglist for all future parts of the smau.
Yandere jock x male reader forced boyfriend. Jock forced you to be his boyfriend and tried everything he could to have sex with you, you refused, leaving him needy and horny. So he drugs the food with aphrodisiac when he gives you a snack
Yandere Jock x Reader
M yan x M reader
TW - general yandere behavior, NSFW, drugging, dubcon, semi-public sex
You had to be the unluckiest guy in the world. Things were supposed to be fine. Your plan was to just fly under the radar until graduation, and you almost made it.
Until he came along.
People envied you, getting to date the hot, popular jock despite not being not very popular yourself. But none of them realize how hellish it is! You never even liked him in the first place! The only reason you two were dating was because of some stupid blackmail he had.
The two of you couldn't even have one conversation without him practically begging to fuck you. But there was no way you'd ever let him! You'd rather let him spill your secrets!
Other than that (and the jealousy issues, and the possessiveness, and the threats, and everything else awful about him) he was sometimes kind of nice. It wasn't uncommon for him to bring you snacks or drinks.
So one morning when he came to you with a bottle of water a granola bar, you didn't think much of it. You didn't have breakfast that day anyway.
But you quickly realized something was wrong. Very wrong.
The whole morning after eating that stupid little granola bar your mind has been fuzzy, your body needy. The only thing you could seem to think of was how much your cock needed attention.
You couldn't even make it to lunch. While everyone else enjoyed their break and ate the world's worst food, you were hiding in a bathroom stall jerking off. It was pathetic. One hand covered your mouth as the other desperately fisted your cock.
You didn't even stop when you heard someone coming in. You just bit your hand and tried harder to hold back your pathetic moans.
Until you heard his voice.
"I know you're in there, darling. Let me in so I can help you out."
How did he know?! This finally made you stop your actions, pre-cum making your hand sticky.
"If you don't let me in, I'll just crawl under the stall door. I'm not afraid to get a little dirty. I've waited too damn long for you to finally be ready for me."
He pounded on the door, making it rattle. What were you supposed to do? You didn't want him...but you probably needed some help with this, and if he's going to come in anyway, you might as well not struggle too much...
Barely pulling your pants back up, you shakily unlocked and opened the stall door. He barged in and closed the door again, making sure to lock it. He didn't waste a second in connecting his lips with yours harshly as he pushed you against the cold wall and pulled your pants down, making sure they dropped to your ankles.
"Look who's needy now..." He lowered his own pants just enough for his erection to spring free, and it was larger than you had anticipated. As if the world would end if he didn't penetrate you fast enough, he turned you around so your back was facing him and forced his way into your ass.
He let out a loud moan as your warmth enveloped him. "Now you listen here. Don't you dare let me miss out on hearing your moans, got it? Be loud. I want everyone to know who you belong to."
With that, he thrust into you at a brutal pace. One of his hands found its way around your body to hold you by the neck, just tight enough so you could really feel it without choking.
His free hand caressed your ass cheeks gently, then slapped them hard enough to leave a mark. Even if it weren't for him demanding you not muffle yourself, you weren't sure if you could. It was impossible not to moan and scream with pleasure and he caressed and used your sensitive body.
If you could think straight, you'd be more concerned about all the noise. Surely anyone would hear if they simply walked past. But it was impossible to think of anything except how his cock was rearranging your guts.
"Fuck, you look so damn good like this...! You have no clue how long I've been waiting for this moment..." He leaned in and gently nibbled your earlobe, moving down to bite and kiss your shoulders.
His hand, previously on your ass, moved around to your twitching cock. He fisted you, his pace very slow compared to the intense and desperate way he was demolishing your hole.
"Cum for me, I know you want to."
And oh lord did you. You swear you've never shot such a large load. Maybe it was the aphrodisiac?
Feeling your hot cum coat his hand, he soon filled you with his own seed, the grip he had on your neck tightening.
tw: not proofread, yandere, manipulation, gaslighting.
─ 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝐉𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐇𝐂𝐒...
he’s a jock, but not the playboy tv show/movie stereotype jock. he’s more of the hopelessly-in-love golden retriever puppy type.
100% a delusional yandere. he believes everything he does for you is for the best and will try to coax you into thinking he’s always right.
he is insanely jealous. anyone who tries to hit on you will get a black eye for touching what’s his.
he always forces you to sit with his friend group at lunch. the entire time, he’ll have you sitting by his side, proudly showing you off to the entire football team.
before dropping you off at classes, he’ll try to make out with you. if you’re not a fan of hallway pda, he’ll scoff, muttering about how “if people look, it’s their fuckin’ problem.”
everywhere you go, he is there too!!! he is clingy. most nights, he invites you to his house to stay over. his home is your second home.
when he drives the both of you to school, his left hand is on the wheel and the other is resting on your thigh. he tries hard to make you blush like the girls in romance movies.
before every game, he insists for you to wear his jersey and sit in the front row of bleachers so he can wave at you when the game begins.
he allows you to have zero male friends under the excuse of “i don’t have female friends, so why should you have any guy friends? i’m all you need...”
on the topic of friends, he’d condition you to always pick him over your friends (or anyone else, really). he’s constantly terrified of you realizing how terrible of a boyfriend he is and eventually leaving him. and with how smitten he is, there’s no chance he’ll ever let you go.
I LOVE LOREN. How would he be with a darling who is also in an extracurricular activity?? like theater or choir or band or another sport? :)) what would he do if one day one of his games happened at the same time as their performance/game? :(
“Hey Loren, I can’t make it to your game tomorrow night, I have a volleyball match and I can’t miss it.”
You had expected a bit of an outburst. Perhaps begging and pleading that you’d go to his game anyway.
Loren had habit of being clingy with you.
However he just smiled at you, swinging an arm around your shoulder as you to began to roam the halls.
“That’s all cool babe! I’ll just skip mine so I can watch you play!”
“Oh okay cool- wait huh?”
The confused look he gave you almost made you think you misheard him.
“What’s up babe?”
Ignoring the whole “babe” thing, seeing as you two were infact not dating, you forced the soles of your shoes to ground and slowed his large strides.
“Loren did you say you’ll skip your game?”
“Yeah why?”
“Why??? What do you mean why- Loren that’s like one of the big games for our school!”
“So?”
You were gonna smack this idiot
“So?? You can’t skip it you felt the whole school down!”
“But I don’t care about the “whole school”. I wanna see your game!” He smiled so effortlessly at you, that you practically felt blinded by the wholesome joy on his face. “ ‘sides they can just get someone else to fill in for me.”
“Coach will be pissed!”
“Coach will get over it. Besides you’re more important to me anyway! <3”
The heat on your cheeks was suffocating.
“I-..”
Sigh
“Whatever doofus.”
Loren smiled peppily, seeming pleased with your acceptance, thus squeezing you the his chest before continuing on with your walk.
————————
A/N: Loren is recklessly supportive. Picture him in a skirt with Pom poms at your games or any performances really. Or an embarrassing poster and a group of his friends chanting your name in a completely silent auditorium.
PS. I’ll probably be writing a lot of Loren for a bit since he’s very easy to write about. Alan and Chata have some content coming up along with meeting Loren’s brother and some more Cameron and Jessie along the line
