#😔 f

[tojisun]

sugar, spice, everything on ice (hockey au mlist) - smut; f!reader; short drabble only!

yea i bet youre all tired of hearing hockey come out of my mouth but thinking about—

hockey player simon receiving a text from you after a game.

they defeated their opponent in a shutout—price carrying the team on enemy ice, with garrick coming in with solid defences, allowing mactavish and simon to sink a shot after another.

it was an electrifying game; even now as he’s stuffed in his cubicle, simon feels like he’s on top of the world. like the cup is so close to his reach—just a few more rally and he’s bringing it home.

the locker room is buzzed, congratulations getting passed from one to another while their coach awards the disk to price for the shutout. the media is still taping this whole interaction so the team remains conscious, guarded, until, finally, everything is wrapped up.

the others clamber to the showers but simon digs for his phone, desperate to talk to you. to tell you that he’s won—he doesn’t know if you’ve watched the game, not with how packed your schedule’s gotten—so if you haven’t, he wishes to at least be the first to let you know.

he wants you to hear it from him; hear from him how they dominated tonight’s game.

(6-0 for the specgru. in the playoffs.)

but there’s already a message from you, sitting atop the strings of notification filling up his phone screen. he ignores the emails from brands reaching out for brand deals or fans sending in messages to his public socials, and taps on your name.

his eyes grow wide, his breath hitching, because—

> 2 goals tonight, baby. almost a hatty.

> have i told you how your hockey makes me hot? almost makes me want to fly there to give you a reward

the start of a whimper builds in the base of his throat, scratching at his trachea.

jesus.

the last time you’ve rewarded him for his performance—a hatty, one of which was an empty net goal—simon had to grit through the horror of seeing you have a difficulty in sitting down the next few days. until now, he swears that he tried holding back, to take it easy despite his needs, but then you crawled to his lap and sang praises in his ears, and simon was gone.

you were so needy for him. for his skate and his play and his victory. and how could simon control himself then?

so this—your messages that are lidded with a tease—is torture. the flight won’t even be until tomorrow morning so you’ve just left him extremely pent-up, buzzing, with his desires poorly-leashed.

all he could do is send a weak,

when i’m back, can you give it then? <

you’ve only liked his message as a reply and simon knows it for what it is—a deliberate hooking; filling him up with tension. with unbridled energy, all uncontainable, so he can fuck all of that into you.

shit. now he’s all hard underneath his cup.

the quick rub in the shower stalls was not enough so he races to their hotel, locking himself in his room and proceeds to fuck his fist as he swipes at the album he’s locked away in his gallery. it’s the gallery that only you and simon know about.

it’s full of pictures. of videos and audios.

it’s full of you fingering your sensitive pussy, and of simon finally getting his hands on your cunt and dragging you up to his mouth for a taste, and of simon fucking you at every surface—on the island, in the living room, against the window, in front of the mirror.

in some of them, he’s still wearing his jersey. in most of them, you’re the one who has it on.

simon cums once. then rubs another one before the flight because he makes the mistake of rereading your previous message. the release isn’t euphoric; sure, it’s enough to stop the fever, but it was almost too clinical.

you’re still in your gym clothes when simon’s clumsily making his way home. you shriek at the way he just covers you with his bulk, before giggling at the ticklish feeling of his scruff rubbing against your cheek.

“missed you,” he says.

you whine, nodding, before pushing him back just enough that you can finally jump into his arms. simon soaks up the attention, like it’s sticky liquorice, and the nuzzled kisses.

even the words pressed on his lips, he devours but there’s one thing simon needs more, and he’s almost shaking when you finally noticed.

you laugh, poking his cheek, before giving him what he wants.

“your hockey’s so hot, si,” you trill. “fuck me?”

“please,” simon croaks out because that is all he could truly say.

[negasonik-teenage-warhead]

little rats

[quinngefail]

Some stupid shit I've had in mind for weeks 😩

[doglikecadaver]

These two compelling me to return once more from my far too frequent hiatuses😓

-

[candyheartedchy]

Y’all know damn well Gazpacho would be the type who would constantly bring up the fact that he’s married.

[gladiatorcunt]

patrick and art

[turtleblogatlast]

That middle child feel when you’re the one who successfully gets you and your siblings out of trouble only to immediately get jumped by them afterwards

[zzzx009]

SHEEP DACHU AU!

Aka au where dazai was in the sheep as well

[beartitled]

Where’s the true Roman? Is he okey? (Referring to the doppelgänger comic with extra hands and Lois)

(This is a reference to 👉this comic👈)

Oh he’s chillin

The man never had a better vacation really

[royaltea000]

I saw a couple people say that they didn’t really like America’s gangstalia design so I was like hey why don’t I try redesigning it but I think I just ended up drawing an actual cowboy lmfao

[phoenixtakaramono]

𝘖𝘪. Ladies and gentlemen, The Boys are back 💉🩸

[anonymouscheeses]

This game is peak so i HAD to draw the girl boss and her goth girlfriend (well. Shes not goth, but i stand that she should be)

[crystallizsch]

🐈‍⬛: Hey, Yuu. What's up with you and Jamil?

my eepy guys

[daz4i]

whatever you do do NOT imagine laying on your f/o's chest as they tell you about something they deeply care about and you can feel their voice vibrating through their chest to calm you down. it's not worth the recovery period

[xenolinn]

A silly draw of @snekberry's Future!Jon and Cat!Jon

[bearotonin-international]

Waldo is disappointed in us for forgetting to correctly queue up our Fat Bear Friday content. We are too 😔