#I AM YELLING AND NEED TO GO TO THE GYM | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mercvry-glow · 13 days ago

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Get your sparkle on

parings. jack Abbot x Cheer-Coach!reader

summary. Jack's wife take a visit to the er after an eventful a.m. practice at her gym and trouble ensues with her gaggle of cheerleaders.

warnings. age-gap (jack late 40s reader late 20s/early 30s), reader gets hurt, hospital setting, nothing too serious or punchy, not so secret marriage, let me know if there's anything else!

notes. as an ex-cheerleader I loved writing this! cheer!mom and cheer!dad jack for the win, he's a lovable grump in this one.

wc. 2500+

You hadn’t expected your morning to end in the back of an ambulance, but, well... here you were.

It started like any other day — early practice at the gym, you in your cropped pink zip-up and leggings, hair in soft curls and an iced coffee in hand, helping the senior stunt group clean up their tosses. You were walking one of the newer flyers through a cradle when suddenly she fell on you.

A sharp pop, blinding pain, and suddenly you were on the mat clutching your leg, trying to smile so you wouldn’t scare any of the girls.

Now, laid out on a stretcher with your cheerleader Grace glued to your side, you were trying not to wince as the paramedics wheeled you through the sliding doors of PTMC.

Your badge reel—pink, glittery, and proudly reading Head Coach in sparkly letters—was still clipped to your hoodie. A nurse clocked it as you passed, raising an eyebrow but saying nothing.

Grace, on the other hand, was vibrating with nerves. “You’re okay, you’re okay,” she kept saying, gripping your hand with both of hers. “I mean you’re not, like, okay-okay, but you’re conscious, and you’re not dead, and Jack is totally gonna fix this—”

“Grace,” you said gently, voice calm despite the ache pulsing through your leg, “I’m fine. I promise. You don’t need to panic.”

“But I am panicking,” she whispered urgently. “And Jack’s gonna panic even harder when he finds out they didn’t get him immediately. Should I tell them? I should tell them.”

You gave her a look—the same one you used when the girls got too rowdy during warm-ups. “We talked about this. No, babe.”

“But—” she lowered her voice, glancing around the ER. “They don’t even know you’re his wife. Shouldn’t someone know? You’re in pain, and he’d want to—”

A nurse appeared with a wheelchair, her eyes flicking between you and Grace.

“She’s with me,” Grace said quickly, defensive and fierce. “She’s not just some random patient. This is really bad.”

The nurse gave her a polite smile and helped transfer you gently. “We’ll get her seen quickly, don’t worry.”

“She needs Jack,” Grace added, her voice cracking.

The nurse paused just slightly. “Jack…?”

You exhaled slowly. Here we go.

“She means Dr. Abbot,” you said, trying not to wince as you shifted. “He’s my—he’s… we know him.”

You really weren’t ready to deal with the full explanation right now. Not when your leg was screaming and you were trying to maintain some semblance of dignity in your glitter-covered socks.

The nurse’s brows lifted just slightly but didn’t push. “Let’s get you to a bed, then we’ll go from there.”

The ER was still waking up—lights bright but not blinding, a few residents gathered around the central station with coffee cups and clipboards. Your name hadn’t reached the gossip chain yet, and for now, that was a gift.

Grace hovered nearby like an over-caffeinated hummingbird. “Should I text him? Can I text him? He’s probably already here, right? I could just yell for—”

“Please don’t yell,” you groaned.

She fidgeted with her phone, visibly vibrating. “You don’t get it. If I don’t say something and he finds out we didn’t, he’s going to be all scary. You’ve seen him. You married him.”

The nurse’s head turned at that, but you closed your eyes and didn’t respond.

You were halfway through the triage when one of the residents popped his head in, chart in hand. “You’re the coach, right? Cheer gym injury? I’m Dr. Shen,”

You nodded. “Sounds about right.”

“Looks like they flagged ortho already,” he said. “But you’ve got some swelling, maybe a fibula fracture. We’ll get imaging, but I’ll do a quick exam.”

As he moved toward your leg, you heard Grace mutter under her breath, “This is taking too long.”

You gently grabbed her wrist. “Deep breaths, babe. I’m okay. I promise.”

She nodded quickly, eyes glassy. “You can’t promise that.”

And before you could stop her, she spun toward the hallway something (or someone) clearly catching her eye and called out, voice loud and panicked:

“Dr. Abbot! Jack!”

Several heads turned. A nurse dropped her pen. One of the younger med students actually gasped.

The resident paused mid-exam. “Wait, did she just say—?”

You groaned, throwing your arm over your eyes. “Yup.”

And like clockwork, heavy footsteps pounded down the hallway. Voices called after him—probably someone trying to tell him to slow down, but he wasn’t listening.

Then he appeared, scrubs wrinkled, expression somewhere between murder and panic.

His eyes found yours instantly. “You okay?”

“Jack—” you started, but he was already at your side, checking your vitals, his hand on your wrist like he needed to feel your pulse himself to believe it.

You could feel the stares. The whispers. The dawning realization.

Grace, finally satisfied, sat down next to your bed and crossed her arms. “Told you.”

Jack didn’t even look at her. He just leaned down and brushed a kiss to your forehead.

“I told you not to stunt without spotters,” he muttered.

“And I told her not to make a scene,” you replied, lips twitching.

He glanced around and finally noticed the stunned silence.

“What?”

No one answered.

You closed your eyes again, cheeks warm. “They didn’t know.”

“Oh.” He straightened, suddenly aware of the audience. “Well… now they do.”

You were trying not to laugh at the awkward silence hanging in the air.

Jack had one hand still loosely wrapped around your wrist, like he couldn’t stop checking your pulse — despite the fact that a monitor, a nurse, and an extremely flustered resident were already doing the exact same thing.

You cleared your throat gently. “Jack… they kind of need to examine me. Officially.”

“I am examining you,” he said, like that somehow settled the matter. “You’re in my ER. You’re my patient.”

From the chair in the corner, Grace scoffed under her breath. “That’s not how it works and you know it.”

Jack glanced sideways at her. “Grace.”

She blinked innocently. “What? I didn’t say you’re doing a bad job. Just that you're being a little overdramatic with the heart rate check. That monitor has it covered.”

“You want to go monitor something? Are you a doctor?” he asked, dry.

She threw her hands up. “Fine. I’m quiet. See?” She sealed her lips with an invisible zipper and sat back, but the worry in her eyes didn’t fade.

You smiled faintly at the whole scene. The tension in your leg was awful, a hot ache pulsing up through your thigh, but the comfort of familiarity made it all a little more bearable.

Jack turned back to you, this time softening slightly as he brushed his fingers lightly over your hand. “Pain level?”

“Six,” you said. “Seven when I move it. I think I heard something pop.”

“Not surprised.” He gave you a once-over, eyes sharper now. “You look pale.”

“Fluorescent lighting is no one’s friend,” you muttered. “And I skipped my second coffee.”

He raised a brow. “You were spotting girls on one coffee?”

“I didn’t plan to get hurt, Jack.”

Behind him, Grace made a wounded noise. “She didn’t even flinch when it happened. Just said, ‘Huh. I think I’m hurt.’ Like it was no big deal. We all thought she was fine until she couldn’t walk.”

Jack looked over his shoulder. “And you brought her in?”

“I called 911,” she said, defensive. “And I rode with her. And I told them like six times that she’s your wife, but they acted like I was crazy!.”

Jack snorted. “Can’t imagine why.”

She gave him a pointed look. “You probably never talk about her at work. You could’ve warned people.”

“I thought we liked keeping it private,” he said, glancing at you again.

You smiled up at him. “We do. You just outed us by kissing me.”

“They were taking too long,” he muttered.

From her chair, Grace nodded solemnly. “That’s what I said.”

Jack ignored her, stepping aside as a nurse rolled in the portable ultrasound to check for swelling. A med student followed behind, clearly trying to avoid staring but failing spectacularly.

Jack caught the lingering gaze and turned, tone clipped. “Yes, we’re married. Yes, we kept it private. No, I’m not answering questions. Go page ortho again.”

The kid turned tail so fast you almost felt bad for him.

Almost.

Grace waited until he left, then leaned forward with wide eyes. “Can I please be the one to break it to the rest of the team?”

“No,” you and Jack both said at the same time.

She slumped. “Worth a shot.”

Jack gave your chart a once-over, then carefully shifted the pillow beneath your leg. “We’ll confirm with imaging, but it’s probably your fibula. Hairline, best case.”

You winced. “Ugh. That means no gym for—?”

“Two weeks minimum,” he cut in firmly. “Longer if ortho’s being conservative.”

Grace perked up again. “But you can still come sit and yell at us, right?”

“We’ll see,” Jack answered for you. “She’s going to rest first.”

“She can rest and yell. Comp season is starting soon..”

“Grace.”

She sat back again, muttering something that sounded like, “Overprotective, overachieving power couple,” under her breath.

You gave her a fond look. “Thank you for staying with me.”

She shrugged like it was nothing, but her voice was quiet when she answered, “You’d do it for me.”

Jack glanced between the two of you, and something in his expression shifted — that deep-down kind of respect he rarely showed unless he meant it.

“Hey,” he said, aiming it at Grace. “You did good this morning.”

She perked up. “Really?”

“Really. You almost atayed calm, made the right call, got her here fast.” He looked at you briefly. “She’s not an easy one to boss around when she’s being stubborn.”

Grace nodded solemnly. “No, she is not.”

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling.

Just then, a nurse came in with your chart and glanced between you and Jack. “We, uh… need an attending on record. Someone not married to the patient.”

Jack finally stepped back, his hand lingering for one more second before dropping to his side. “Dr. Shen’s on call. I’ll send him in.”

“You really didn’t act like ‘just the husband,’” Grace whispered as he turned to go.

He didn’t answer, just shot her a knowing look and disappeared into the hallway.

You leaned back into the pillow, exhaling as the hum of the ER filled in the quiet again.

“Coach?”

“Yeah?”

“Next time, we should just call him first.”

You smiled at her, soft and full of love. “Only if you promise not to freak me out like that again.”

She squeezed your hand gently. “Deal.”

Now, a few weeks later you had barely made it halfway down the bleachers before your girls spotted you — which meant you’d barely made it halfway down the bleachers before you were swarmed.

“Coach!”

“Oh my god, did you see us?!”

“Grace hit the stunt and didn’t fall this time!”

“Wait, are you okay? You’re not supposed to be walking—JACK!”

That last one was, of course, shrieked by Grace, who was already bounding up the stairs two at a time. She reached you first, wrapping you in a hug like she hadn’t seen you in warm-ups just two hours ago. Jack steadied your other side as she pulled back, eyes wide.

“You really came,” she said, looking between the two of you. “Did you see everything?”

You smiled. “Every second.”

The rest of the team wasn’t far behind—a slightly more graceful stampede of ponytails, ribbons, and metallic jackets. They closed in fast, voices overlapping with the kind of energy that could only come from hitting a near-perfect routine.

“Coach, our pyramid hit—did you see it?”

“We didn’t drop anything!”

“My heel came loose halfway but I saved it—did you notice?”

Jack was trying to fade back into the bleachers, but you hooked a gentle hand through his elbow to keep him in place.

“Yes, we saw,” you said with a warm laugh. “You were all incredible.”

“She cried,” Jack added, totally betraying you.

“I teared up,” you corrected, swatting at his arm. “There’s a difference.”

“She definitely cried,” he said, dry as ever.

Grace grinned and looped her arm through yours. “Honestly? Valid.”

Someone finally noticed Jack.

“Dr. Abbot’s here!”

“Wait—he really came?”

“Can you check this bruise? I landed kinda weird—”

You raised your hand, cutting in before things spiraled. “Alright, easy. He’s here as my husband, not your medic.”

“But he’s both,” someone muttered.

Jack sighed. Loudly. “Why do you all know me?”

“You wrapped my ankle last winter,” one girl said brightly.

“You yelled at the urgent care nurse for me,” another added.

Grace nodded, clearly proud. “You fixed like half our ponytails that day too. So like… you’re practically part of the team.”

“And I resent that,” Jack mumbled.

But he didn’t pull away when one of your flyers handed him a glittery “PSE” sticker. He peeled it carefully and stuck it right on the inside of his jacket, just above his heart. You squeezed his arm affectionately.

You caught a few of the girls exchanging glances, and Grace turned to you with a knowing look.

“Did he cry too?”

“No,” Jack said immediately.

“Yes,” you and Grace said at the same time.

He gave you both an unimpressed look. But there was a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You settled back onto the bleachers as the girls dispersed, your crutch beside you and leaned into Jack’s side as the awards staging call echoed across the venue. Before the chaos of the impending awards resumed. You let your eyes sweep across the mat again, replaying the routine in your mind — the synchronized tumbling, the sharp formations, Grace’s flyer holding steady with laser focus.

“They were really good,” Jack said quietly, his voice close to your ear. “Like... actually impressive.”

You looked up at him. “Yeah?”

“I’ve seen a lot of broken legs from this stuff,” he replied, ever the ER doctor. “But that routine? That was clean.”

You smiled, proud and soft. “They worked hard.”

“They’ve got a good coach.”

You leaned your head against his shoulder. “You’re being sweet.”

“Don’t tell them,” he muttered.

Too late. Grace was already back, handing you an iced coffee and grabbing your clipboard like it was a baton.

“Staging’s happening now,” she said, already ushering the team into motion.

“Can Jack come with us to awards?” someone asked as she passed.

“No,” Jack said automatically.

“He can,” Grace whispered, smirking. “She’ll make the eyes.”

“I’m literally right here,” you said.

He gave you a look. “You want me to sit through cheer awards?”

You smiled up at him. “I broke my leg for this team.”

“…Fine,” he muttered. “But if someone tries to glitter me again—”

“No promises,” a voice called out.

You kissed his cheek, just under the jaw. “You’re the best husband.”

“I’m the only idiot who married you,” he said, voice dry.

Grace grinned. “So… team dad?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Too late,” a chorus of voices echoed.

And as they herded you both toward the staging area—a little whirlwind of adrenaline, glitter, and unfiltered joy—Jack followed close behind. Sticker still on his jacket. Hand still in yours.

And when someone dragged him into the team photo after awards, you caught the smallest, most reluctant smile on his face.

Not that he’d admit it, of course.

mercury-glow 2025

#the pitt #the pitt max #the pitt x reader #jack abbot #jack abbot x reader #jack abbott x reader #dr jack abbot x reader #dr jack abbott x reader #jack abbot x you #jack abbott x you #dr jack abbot x you #dr jack abbott x you #the pitt x you #the pitt hbo #shawn hatosy #Jack Abbot.<3

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slvthrs · 3 months ago

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ALL THE THINGS WE COULDN'T SAY | v.hacker

— MINORS PLEASE FUCK OFF FOR UR OWN GOOD —

No matter what, seeing him all over again feels like the inch has given you, spans the entire seas.

OLD BSF!VINNIE X FEM!READER

WARNINGS: NSFW CONTENT MINORS DNI, some angst, some fluff, unprotected sex, alcohol ment, making out praise kink, degradation kink, cheating, possessiveness, angry sex, slapping, face pushing, begging, choking, mean vinnie!!

word count: 2.5k <3

a/n: lil apology for the disappearance mls :(

Ever since that fateful day, I haven’t spoken a word to Vinnie.

It’s not like we were best friends, chatting everyday- at least not best friends in LA. But having sex whilst he had a girlfriend proved too much for me.

I ignored every text, every call, every attempt to get in contact despite what I really wanted. However I knew that any form of interaction between us would end up the same way our last one ended.

And I was very right.

It had been 2 months, it was all going good. I was starting to forget the feeling of his lips on me. Starting to forget the way he made me laugh, held my body close whispering sweet nothings.

I started spending more time at the gym, and spent more time with my friends. Went out clubbing, shopping, anything that would help me forget.

But in the back of my mind, only one thing actually made me crumble in the middle of the night, only one thing I thought of when I fell asleep, the one thing I craved.

He had given me an inch and I imagined it to be a mile- the same mistake I kept on making.

So when I heard that Vinnie was throwing his birthday and I had received the coveted invitation- I imagined it to be the world.

Vinnie’s birthday was always something I looked forward to back home. Maria’s cooking, Nate on the grill, and Reggie playing silly board games with Vinnie and I.

***

“YOU FUCKING CHEATER” I yelled, jostling Poncho in my lap.

“Oh c’mon it’s not my fault you suck at Uno” Vinnie laughs moving to pet Poncho.

“Absolutely not! I had Uno, I was about to win!” I grumble, my head falling onto the coffee table table.

Reggie’s hand rubs my back, “Hey we all know Vinnie cheats don’t worry,” He teases sticking his tongue out at his big brother.

The two boys start bickering, laughing, and yelling curses as I cradle Poncho, “Shh baby ignore em their just two stinky men” I whisper

Their words quickly turn into playful rough housing until Maria breaks them up bringing out Vinnie’s cake.

His face is illuminated by the soft glow of the candles, as the cake is set in front of him. His big signature toothy grin covers his entire face as he watches us start to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to him.

One of his hands wraps around my waist and my world just stops- at least for a moment before I’m jostled by him blowing out the candles in one big huff.

“What did you wish for Vin?” Nate asks, smiling at his newly adult son

His face turns to look at me giving me a smile before turning back to his dad, “Can’t say unless I don’t want it to come true.”

My world just died right there before starting all over again.

That was a day before he left for LA.

***

I had spent the night getting ready with my friends. I was adorned in pretty jewelry complimenting my hair. I was wearing a pretty white tie-in-the-front white cropped top with long sleeves and a low-rise white mini skirt. I had matching waist chains with some strappy white heels.

Vinnie’s favourite perfume of mine sprayed on my skin in an involuntary action as I packed up my little purse with some needed essentials and some non-essentials.

I stared in the mirror, Was I really doing this?

“Babes Tyler is here!” My friend Kylie shoots in my direction.

Tyler- the only reason my friends thought I should go to this party was if I brought a guy, so Tyler had to do.

I guess I am.

My friends and I walk out to Tyler’s car, not before a shot for pure confidence, and slip into the passenger seat driving down the same way I went two months ago.

We arrive at the house around 10:30, right around when most people are trickling in. I fix my dress as we walk through the door and all of a sudden the wave of anxiousness washes over me and I want to run.

I don’t however run away, despite how much I want to, I still hold it together.

Kylie pulls me aside to check up on me and hands me a drink, telling me to ‘get some!’ Despite the fact that we both have very different people in mind.

Jordan, one of Vinnie’s friends walks up to me engaging in mindless conversation that's so clearly an attempt to find out who Tyler is or if “I’m seeing anyone.”

Despite that fact we have a pleasant conversation whilst I feel a pair of very familiar eyes burning into the back of my skull as I hug Jordan goodbye as people get ready for midnight.

Two blonde dudes come in holding a large sheet cake with 22 candles placed ever so gently on top.

Vinnie’s hand is wrapped around Allison who stares at him as if he’s the sun and the stars and his eyes stay on me, causing me to sweat. He grins as the cake is placed in front of him, straightening out his stupid little suit as everyone begins to sing.

As the song finishes everyone bursts into cheers as he blows out his candle as Allison grips onto him, his eyes leave the cake finding his girlfriend’s as she asks, “What did you wish for baby?”

He smiles, not saying a word as he looks back at me, “It’s a secret.”

That’s too much for me.

I maneuver around the drunk crowd, sprinting up the nearest stairs and into the first room, walking out onto the balcony and sitting down on the ground.

My world feels like it's out of orbit, everything just stopped. My head tips back on the glass balcony as I try to recollect my thoughts.

Stray tears fall onto my face, if he can do it for her, why couldn’t he have done it for me, is the only thought that swirls in my mind.

“Hey are you okay?” No no no.

I shut my eyes praying he’ll just go away, but he doesn’t, he never could. He sits down next to me, his body heat slipping on to me.

His hand rests on my shoulder, “Open your eyes” Vinnie’s voice whispers and like a marionette, I obliged.

My bloodshot teary eyes meet his as I turn my head as I move to wipe away my tears.

“Yes?” My voice breaks.

“Why are you crying?” He whispers, his gaze soft and his words even softer.

“Don’t do this, Vinnie.” I whisper, desperation evident in my voice.

“What pretty girl?”

And I cry all over again. I take in staggered breaths as his arms wrap around me. His hands soothe my skin as I crumble into his dumb suit.

I melt into his touch. I want to die like this, in his arms.

“I can’t do this, I don’t know why I came” I whisper as tears fall on my face and into his shirt.

“It’s my birthday… didn’t you want to be here?” He asks, his voice breaking a little as he pulls my face away, lifting up my chin to look at him.

His gaze drops to my lips for a moment as I snap out of it, immediately rising to my feet stepping into the room.

“No no we can’t do this” I whisper-yell at him, my hands crossed over my chest

“We’re not doing anything?” He looks bewildered, his eyebrows knit together

“We can’t be friends.. I-I can’t be here alone with you, your girlfriends downstairs!” My voice rises a little

His expression is the picturesque definition of pain, “Why not?”

“Because I spent years loving you and you threw it all away!” I yell my hand pointing at him

“I didn’t throw it away!” He raises his voice, stepping closer to me

“Oh yes you fucking did, and I was doing so good! I was forgetting about you!” I cry out, I step closer to him.

“I don’t want you to forget about me” His voice is expressionless, as he steps closer as we’re practically chest to chest

“I want to! You have a girlfriend” I slam my fist on his chest as his grabs my wrist

“Jesus were you always this fucking bossy when we were kids?” His eyes narrow, eyeing me

I roll my eyes and scoff, “Fuck. You.”

He has the audacity to laugh, “You can try and forget me, get with that idiot you got here with- But never, tell me I threw us away, I loved you! I love you.”

His voice softens ever so slightly, “I will never not love you, tell me to break up with Allison, I will, tell me to kick everyone out right now, I will. Whatever you want, tell me. I’m yours”

“I hate you. Leave.” I huff

He shakes his head, “Anything but that.”

“Leave me like you left me 3 years ago and 2 months ago” I whisper

“No.” His voice is harsh and commanding

“Vinnie…”

“No.” His grasp on my hand doesn't falter and in fact his other hand grasps my other wrist.

My eyes narrow, please whatever scraps of self respect I have please kick in.

His pushes me back against the wall, my hands pinned either side of me as he places a kiss on the birthmark on my neck, “I’m never leaving you”

I shut my eyes, tipping my head back, please kick in, I beg.

“Open your eyes.” His voice rough and ragged

My eyes flutter open, meeting his blown out brown eyes.

Oh no.

His lips meet mine in a desperate kiss, his hand moves to grasp my waist as mine tangles in his hair.

“We can’t” I whisper despite still kissing him back

“Just shut the fuck up” He groans as he bites down on my bottom lip

“You’re my worst addiction” He mumbles moving to kiss my neck

I whine, nails digging into his curly brown locks, “I hate you”

“I know my love” I murmurs against my skin, kissing every spot of my neck he can find before dipping down to my tits.

“Vinnie-”

“Yes.” His voice cuts mine off, his head tipping up, looking up at my eyes.

I shut my eyes, “Need you”

“What? Where? Tell me” He begs

“Need you to fuck me, rough” I whisper

He stops his kisses, moving to cup my face, “Whatever you want doll”.

He meets my lips in a rough kiss guiding me to the edge of the bed, pushing me down to sit.

“God you're so pretty, it makes me wanna ruin you sometimes” He whispers out, his voice rough as he moves a strand of my hair away from my face as he looks down at me.

He moves me further up the bed as he leans over me, pulling the buttons of his waist coat down but as he’s mid way he gets frustrated he just rips it off along with his shirt as he kisses me again.

His lips move in tandem with mine as he pulls the knot of my shirt, causing it to fall down.

“Mine” He whispers into the kiss, “Say it princess”

“Yours” I whine as he shuffles my skirt and panties off and unclasped my bra

“My perfect girl” He mumbles as he flips me over, smushing my face into the pillows

I can hear his belt clinking open and he shuffles out of his constricting dress pants and boxers

“S gonna hurt darling girl, just be good for me” He whispers as he kisses my spine as he slowly stretches me out

His hand pushes my head down into the pillow as his other hand rubs circles on my clit.

My toes curl up and my eyes roll back as he starts to slowly rut into me, “There she fucking is”

His grunts echo in the room as my muffled moans coat the pillow, “Cmon, you can take it won't you? You're just so good for me.”

His words tease me as he speeds up his pace, he pushes down my head to thrust deeper into me as his muscles flex around me.

“So fucking tight, s’ like you were made for me” He grits as he pulls my hair up as a ragged moan leaves my mouth

“Such a whore, so good for me aren’t ya?” He chuckles

I whine nodding my head as my mind is too cloudy to form words.

He slaps my ass illciting another pitchy moan from me, “Asked you a fucking question”

“Mhm all for you” I mumble biting down on my lip

“God you don’t even know what you fucking do to me darling” He groans as his hand speeds up around my clit

“M close, Vin m close” I ramble like an idiot shutting my eyes

He slaps my ass again causing me to yell, “Beg for it gorgeous girl”

“Please Vinnie” I crumble whining

He laughs at my sad attempt, “My good girl can do better than that can’t she?”

“Please please I need it so bad, need you so bad” I mewl under him

His pace speeds up, “Yeah? Take it baby”

I cum with a loud moan as my eyes screw shut. I can feel Vinnie kiss along my spine, caressing the sides of my body.

He flips me over so I’m looking at him, his flexed biceps on either side of my face and his dumb chain dangling over my face.

He sinks in again as I whimper, “Can’t Vin”

“Yes you can, you're so good, aren’t you?” His voice teases

I succumb to his words mindlessly nodding my head.

“That's right, you can take it and you fucking will.” He punctuates with a sharper thrust

The headboard slams against the wall against Vinnie’s impossible strength rutts into me.

One of my hands wraps around his bicep and the other holds onto his wrist as I pull it on to my neck.

His eyebrows scrunch together in confusion.

“Please?” I whisper

He chuckles as he squeezes around my neck using the grip to pound deeper into me as my eyes roll back as my cunt clenched around him.

“M’ gonna cum, can’t hold out, you just feel too fucking good” He whispers

I whine at that cumming around him without warning as I clench around him he finishes inside me.

We take a second to catch our breaths just lying there for a second.

He pulls out maneuvering us on the bed as he kisses my neck, “Not too much my love?”

“Never” I hum

He nuzzles into my neck as my back meets his chest, “Want me to break up with Allison?”

I take a second to process his question.

“Yes… but I don’t want to date you right now” I whisper

“I'll stay alone forever if it’ll make you happy princess” He hums

“Good” I giggle

“God should've known you were heartache from the moment I met you” He chuckles as he falls asleep in the crook of my neck.

An inch? A mile? As long as it's Vinnie, for you its enough.

#bella fawns over vhacker #vinnie hacker smut #vinnie hacker x reader smut #vinnie hacker x reader #vinnie hacker imagines #vhackerr #vincent hacker #vinnie hacker oneshot #vinnie hacker #vinnie hacker x you #vinnie x reader #vinnie imagines #vinnie #vinnie hacker fluff #vinnie x reader fluff #bella's full works #vinnie hacker angst #vinnie x reader angst #vinnie hacker x reader angst

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prettygirl-gabi · 2 months ago

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Headcanon/one-shot

Heyyy i wanted to do both headcanon and a one-shot so I combined them

Headcanons – Married Life with Paige, Nevaeh, and Your Fur Babies

• Your little family is everything Paige ever dreamed of. She swore basketball was the love of her life, but the moment she married you and you two had Nevaeh, she realized nothing could compare.

• The Dachshund and the Cat Rule the House. Kobe, your spoiled dachshund, is obsessed with Paige and always curls up on her lap the second she sits down. Mocha, your sassy cat, only acknowledges Paige when she wants something, but she’s your little shadow, following you everywhere.

• Nevaeh Is the Definition of Chaos and Cuteness. She’s a perfect mix of you both—stubborn like Paige, sweet like you, and way too energetic. She loves watching basketball with Paige and trying to dribble in the house, but she also insists on twirling in her tutu because she wants to do “all the cool things Mama did too.”

• Game Day Traditions. Whether Paige is playing in the WNBA or just watching with y’all at home, Vee wears her mini jersey, sitting between you both with her tiny foam finger. Paige hypes her up like she’s calling plays, and Nevaeh eats it up, running around yelling, “Let’s goooo, team!”

• Fast Forward to Age 6-7 – The Athlete & The Dancer. Nevaeh is determined to be the best at both basketball and dance. She wears her little leotard under her basketball shorts and tells Paige, “I wanna be just like you, Mama…but also like Mommy!” Paige teases that she’s going to be the first ballerina in the WNBA, and Vee takes it so seriously.

• Soft Nights Never Change. Even I when Nevaeh gets older, she still climbs into bed with you two on occasion, snuggling between you and Paige, saying, “Mama, Mommy, I love you.” Paige never stops looking at you like you hung the moon, and your little family is her greatest win.

Story – “Our Biggest Win”

The sound of tiny feet running across the hardwood floors jolts you from sleep before you even get a chance to fully wake up. You groan, barely processing the weight of a small body launching itself onto the bed.

Paige, beside you, lets out a sleepy, “Ugh, Vee, what time is it?” as Nevaeh giggles and climbs onto her stomach.

“It’s morning time, Mama!” Nevaeh declares, bouncing on Paige, her wild curls sticking up in every direction.

You peek at the clock—6:43 AM. Too early for this level of energy. You groan and reach out to pull her back into your arms. “Baby, it’s Saturday. The sun isn’t even up yet.”

“But Mommy! Today’s my first basketball practice and my dance class!” Nevaeh wiggles in excitement, eyes shining as she looks between you and Paige. “I’m gonna be so good!”

Paige stretches, rubbing her eyes before pulling Vee into a tight hug. “I know you are, baby girl. But your moms need at least ten more minutes of sleep.”

Nevaeh pouts dramatically. “Fine, but only ‘cause I love you.” She snuggles between the two of you, her tiny hands grabbing onto Paige’s hoodie while she presses her face into your chest.

Kobe, your spoiled dachshund, takes the opportunity to claim the rest of the bed, hopping up and curling right against Paige’s legs. Mocha, your diva of a cat, sits on the dresser, judging the chaos with an unimpressed flick of her tail.

After a few more minutes of stolen sleep (or pretending to sleep while Vee wiggles with excitement), you finally get up, helping her into her little basketball shorts and sneakers. Underneath, she wears her pink dance leotard.

Paige chuckles as she kneels in front of Nevaeh, tying her sneakers. “You’re really wearing both, huh?”

Nevaeh nods, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “I have to! Mama plays basketball, and Mommy did dance. I wanna do both! I gotta be the bestest at everything.”

You smile, smoothing down her curls before kissing her forehead. “You already are, baby.”

Paige grins, ruffling Nevaeh’s hair. “You got my handles and Mommy’s grace. We’re in trouble.”

The drive to the gym is full of Nevaeh bouncing in her car seat, swinging her legs as she talks nonstop about how she’s going to make so many baskets and do the prettiest twirls.

At practice, Paige sits beside you, an arm slung over your shoulder as you both watch Nevaeh dribble a ball almost half her size.

“She’s gonna be a problem,” Paige murmurs, watching with pure adoration as Vee crosses over—sloppy, but determined.

You smirk, nudging her. “Like mother, like daughter.”

Halfway through, when the team moves to scrimmage, Nevaeh stops mid-play, runs to you both, and dramatically announces, “Okay, I’m ready for my ballet now.”

You laugh as Paige groans. “Vee, you can’t just—”

But she’s already off, spinning in a circle on the court, making her coach sigh in amusement.

“She’s got your stubbornness,” you tease.

“And your flair for the dramatic,” Paige shoots back, shaking her head but unable to stop smiling.

Later that night, after an exhausting day of basketball drills and ballet twirls, Nevaeh curls up in bed between you both, already half-asleep.

“Mama…Mommy…?” she mumbles, her little voice slurring with exhaustion.

“Yeah, baby?” Paige whispers, brushing her fingers through Nevaeh’s hair.

“I love you.”

Paige melts instantly, pulling her close. You press a kiss to the top of her head, whispering, “We love you more, Vee.”

As Nevaeh drifts off, Kobe snoring at Paige’s feet and Mocha curled up in your lap, Paige looks at you with the softest smile.

“I’ve won a lot of games,” she murmurs, squeezing your hand. “But this? This is my biggest win.”

You lean into her, pressing a kiss to her lips. “Ours.”

---

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-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

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starjaeyun · 1 year ago

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gatekeeper — tsukishima kei !

— tsukishima assures that he is not embarrassed of dating you, you think otherwise

warning/s : fem! reader, misunderstanding 😁 & a small fight at the beginning, profane language, tinsy bit of angst, fluff & crack from the second half ‘til it ends

note : had this little idea while writing a kageyama drabble so they might be quite similar

“just give up already”

y/n’s tip-toeing came to a stop. seriously? this was the 4th time this week! with an annoyed groan, she turns around, fists clenched, brows furrowed, and it looks as though a tick mark was formed on her forehead. behind her stood her oh so loving boyfriend, tsukishima kei, who somehow always catches her trying to sneak in the volleyball gym.

“oh c’mon kei! why won’t you let me watch your practice?!” tsukishima sighed, “we’ve talked about this” he grumbled, why does she have to be so stubborn?

“don’t talk like those romanticized, toxic boyfriends on wattpad!” y/n hits his arm, which barely does any damage to him, “and don’t act like them as well!”

tsukishima raises a hand to fix his glasses, “are you saying i’m toxic?”

“i never said that! i just said don’t talk and act like—”

“so you’re implying it?”

“well, you’re going to be if you carry on with that bullshit!” tsukishima grows silent and stares at y/n, who had seemed to be reaching the highest point of her annoyed meter, which would then slowly escalate into anger.

after a few seconds of silence, he spoke, “take these, don’t wait for me and go home. cool your head” in each of his hands were his hoodie and an umbrella, which he brought with him on the way to the gym incase it might rain before they’re able to go back to the locker rooms. with y/n giving no sign of taking it, he placed it on her foot and carried on walking past her.

“i don’t understand you” tsukishima comes to a halt, looking back almost immediately upon noticing y/n’s change of tone. crap, was i too harsh?

“why are you acting like that if you’re embarrassed of me?” he couldn’t tell whether she’s sad or angry.

“acting? acting like what? and what do you mean embarrassed?!” his tone immediately gave away his nervousness.

“in school or when you’re with someone else, you avoid and act like you don’t know me but when we’re alone, suddenly you’re taking care of me! make it clear whether you love me or not to save both our time because i am not about to start losing myself for a boy who can’t love me the way i deserve!” it’s clear that she wanted to say more so tsukishima stayed silent. “if you’re going to love me, at least be honest with me! am i embarrassing or not?!”

“of course not!”

“then why?!” it was a miracle that y/n was not crying nor shouting at the moment.

tsukishima fully turns his body this time, “what’s embarrassing is my explanation…” and the mood suddenly lightens.

“TSUKISHIMA, YOU BASTARD!” tanaka and nishinoya’s yelling made tsukishima sigh.

“you call me selfish but keep shimizu-senpai’s sister all to yourself” kageyama grumbles

tsukishima stands still. hands clasped together behind his back and head bowed down. he looks like a child getting a scolding, or how the the freak duo looks whenever daichi catches their slip ups.

nishinoya and tanaka kneels in front of the first year. head bowed down as if they were praising him, and that they are.

“on this day, we honor you. congratulations on getting a shimizu!” they say in unison.

“you’re overreacting” tsukishima simply says.

“nope, i, too, would congratulate you tsukki. no offense, but you’re not exactly the ideal boyfriend” yamaguchi says with a finger under his chin.

“mhm! so you better treat her right tsukishima! she’s like our little sister” sugawara’s smile does not look comforting at all.

“call me if you need help in buying gifts!” daichi volunteers happily.

“and me if you need advice!” asahi adds.

“why are you guys taking my job?” shimizu comments while giggling. “but, i do think that tsukishima is just right for my little sister” she turns to look at her sister who was now playing around with kageyama and hinata, “she’s as chaotic as those two, he’ll be able to handle her. so i trust that i won’t have to worry much?”

“of course” tsukishima didn’t seem like himself at the moment. his eyes seemed to have soften at the sight of his girlfriend. he smiled, though not too obvious.

“why are you smiling like a male lead in a drama?” tanaka teased. and though tsukishima hates expressing his emotions to his teammates, he certainly loves poking their annoyance scale, “because this is what it’s like to love and be loved”

“Why are you making it seem like kiyoko does not love me back! she does love me! right? right?” tanaka gave kiyoko hopeful eyes and received no response aside from her turning around.

“I’m not talking about platonic love”

“WHY YOU—“

“KEI!” apparently, while he successfully annoyed the second year, his girlfriend heard what he said and would definitely never let it go.

“when have you been so sweet?! love and be loved? seriously?!” she bounced up and down, hands on tsukishima’s shoulder for support.

“she’s no different from the freak duo, i’m afraid” sugawara comments and laughs along with the third years.

“but am i really that beautiful that you had to gatekeep me from your entire team?” she laughed, still bouncing, and tsukishima only stood there with his smile never seeming to fade.

“if that were me i’d be receiving his train of insults by now” hinata says, joining the rest of the team as they watched how tsukishima seemed to be a lot softer around y/n.

“you’re such a gatekeeper kei!” she teased, this time, she stopped bouncing and have started poking her boyfriend’s sides.

“that he is! how dare he gatekeep kiyoko-san’s sister?!” tanaka kneeled back down on one knee with a hand on his chest.

nishinoya followed suit, “and what’s annoying is that she reciprocated his love!”

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gyuswhore · 1 year ago

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Fifteen to Forever

"I can’t not be happy when I know I have you."

PAIRING: hockeyplayer!choi seungcheol x f!reader

SYNOPSIS: Fifteen was the age you had met Choi Seungcheol at a school hockey game. Forever was the age you would find yourself spending with him.

CONTAINS: fluff, angst, smut (MINORS DNI), growing up, tears (a lot), distance, this is so emotional you will be in your feels, kissing, p in v sex (unprotected), clit stimulation, handjobs, happy endings bc we love them, i think that's it

WORD COUNT: 6k

masterlist

[AN]: thank you so much @ressonancee for birthing the idea of hockey player cheol in the first place, reading over some of the bits and helping me w some of the plot!!! ty for letting me ramble in your dms lol. hockeyplayer!cheol WILL reappear in other fics bc I'm obsessed with the idea, for now, I hope you enjoy this angsty fluffy creation <33

It wasn’t until the last echo of the slammed car door had faded that you realized, yes, mom, I do actually want you to go in with me.

But alas, as the last tresses of exhaust from her car fade into nothingness, you accept that you’d have to do this alone. Gripping the straps of your brand new backpack helps you ground yourself as the increasingly erratic breathing takes over you. It sinks in now that you’re alone.

There’s a honk, and you realize you’re still frozen in the drop-off zone, the mom in the Subaru not appreciating the 7 AM delay to drop off her own high schooler. You wonder if her kid would let her drop them off inside.

Scurrying into the entrance of the open gates, you find the courtyard full. Huddles of teens laughing and yelling despite the early morning hour, not a spare square foot on the grass. You try to find someone who looks like an adult but fail, hoping you’ll be luckier once you’re inside the building.

You do find yourself lucky as you find a line of teachers at the entrance, ready to greet the new batch of freshmen on their first day of high school. There are a few other kids who look as tense as you, but you feel better with the way the administrator pats your shoulder as she hands you your schedule, assigning you to a lanky sophomore to show you around the building that’d become your second home for the next four years.

Jeonghan tells you his name as he leads you into your homeroom, where you deposit your bag before going back out. He’s peculiar, you decide. He tells you to never walk without looking at the floor on Monday mornings to save your shoes from the occasional start-of-the-week breakfast hurl. He tells you in the cafeteria that the lasagna was horrible, but not the sloppy joes; the sloppy joes were good. He tells you in the gym that the coach would let you off if you rubbed a little eyeliner under your eyes, “he’s an empath.”

By the time he’s listing off clubs and teams, you feel a little less nervous, pushing you back into your fuller homeroom with a sign-up sheet and a goodbye. You don’t get to say thank you.

Kwon Soonyoung slips into the empty seat next to you, introducing himself a little louder than you’d anticipated, but you suppose you needed the enthusiasm. He innocently slips you his home number and hopes out loud that you’d be the best of friends.

You get in the car that afternoon, responding with a wider-than-expected smile at your mother inquiring about your day.

“It was great! I think I’ll like it here.”

You found it strange that the rink was so packed for a high school hockey game, but that was before you saw the ten-foot banner and face paint. Soonyoung sits on your right as Jiwoo places herself on your left, both donned in blue and yellow, sandwiching your uncoordinated outfit. For whatever reason, you’d thought movies exaggerated the hype around high school sports, yet the support for the boys entering the rink roars into your ears to prove you wrong.

They win, and with the way the rest of the team pats him on the back after sending in the last puck, you assume it’s all thanks to the boy with the Choi on the back of his jersey.

He removes his helmet, hair flopping into his eyes as you realize you know him. He was always in the cafeteria with Jeonghan, the boy who gave you a tour on your first day, along with many other boys from his year. It was hard not to notice them with the ruckus they were always causing, yet you found them easy to drown out with the rest of the noise.

“What’s his first name? The guy with the 08 on his back?” you ask Soonyoung.

“Oh, that’s Seungcheol. Dude’s a fucking progidy or something.”

“Prodigy,” Jiwoo corrects.

“Yeah, that. Jihoon said the only reason they got to finals last year was ‘cause of this guy.”

You watch as he drinks from his bottle from the benches, smiling at his coach and teammates as they debriefed. At least you were guessing that was happening; the only thing you were thinking about was how you could hear his laugh from where you sat. And how it was making you smile, too.

You stare at your worn shoes that glow in multicolors as the beats in the gym warp and stagger through the speaker. You’re on your third punch, finding yourself awkward without something to occupy at least one hand.

You had danced a little with Jiwoo, watched with bright eyes as Soonyoung dance off-ed yet another senior to his victory, giggled as you let another freshman, Jun, take Jiwoo away for the next dance. You now lace the edges of the party, taking a breather as you down the remnants of your punch, already trailing the memorized path to the snack table. Maybe you’ll try some of the lemonade this time.

There’s already somebody occupying the lemonade cooler when you get there, back to you as you patiently wait for him to finish up. He moves away, leaning against the table. He takes a sip from his cup, and you move forward to fill your own.

It’s Seungcheol. You recall his name as you recognize his face. He somehow looks as haphazard as you last saw him from yesterday’s hockey game.

If he had come in with a tie, it’s long gone as he has his collar popped and shirt unbuttoned the first few steps. It doesn’t end there as you note the hair that dresses his eyes, soaked in what you cannot imagine is water with the way you saw someone with a similar build typhoon across the floor with nearly as much vigor as Soonyoung has had tonight.

He’s downing the cup in haste, and you take a sip of the slightly tart drink as you debate if you should say something.

“You did really well yesterday. Congrats,” you decide to say.

He emerges from his cup to acknowledge you sipping on your own lemonade, “Oh, thanks. Were you there?”

“Oh, yeah, I was. First hockey game, went with my friends,” you let out a little chuckle, not understanding why you suddenly felt so awkward.

“Cool,” he answers plainly, mouth glistening and posture stagnant. “You’re friends with Soonyoung, right? Seen him hang around Jihoon a lot.”

“Yeah, he’s — he’s friends with everybody,” you laugh a little, and you hear him laugh with you.

“How do you handle him? He’s giving a run for everybody’s money out there,” he gestures to the dance floor with a smile.

“He mellows out after a while; he’s just excited,” you say, understanding his bewilderment.

“How’re you finding high school so far?” he asks when he runs out of things to say, yet forgets that he can easily excuse himself. But he doesn’t.

“Pretty alright. I’m having fun so far.” You don’t need to ask him the same, knowing well that the sophomore was having the time of his life.

“Good to hear, hope it stays that way for you.”

It’s another painful five seconds before you see Jiwoo waving at you from afar, pointing at something Soonyoung is doing.

“Uh, I’ll see you around, my friend’s waving me over–”

“Oh, sure, uh, I’ll see you around.”

You give him one more tight-lipped smile as you wave from waist length before retreating.

“Wait!”

You turn around at his voice.

“I never got your name.”

Seungcheol took you on your first not-date in the spring.

Not-date because neither of you had labeled it as such, but you were pushed to reconsider when both Jiwoo and Soonyoung insisted.

He had brought his car that you slipped into after school to drive to the movies, where he bought you popcorn and paid for both of your tickets. He held your hand as you walked out of the theatre, wide-eyed and all smiles as you discussed the film you had just sat through for two hours.

His palm fit in yours like it belonged there, and maybe it was your fifteen-year-old brain talking. Still, you never expected to be this comfortable with him — especially after the possible insinuation your friends had instilled.

He drove you home that night as you searched for a million excuses to stay a little longer in his car as he parked in front of your door. But alas, you open the car door at the end of the night and are surprised to find him doing the same as he walks around to where you get out.

“I had a lot of fun today,” you say in your rehearsed line.

“Me too,” he smiles. “The weather’s getting nicer, we should see the cherry blossoms next weekend. If you wanted to. We can take the car again.”

He didn’t kiss you, at least not on the lips as he hugged you at your front door and pressed his lips to your cheek.

You were quick to squeak out your goodbyes after that happened, slamming your door shut as you vaguely heard him drive off.

With a hand to your racing heart, you count to ten. Perhaps you’d reconsider that not-date after all. Besides, you had cherry blossoms to look forward to.

Choi Seungcheol kissed you, really kissed you, when he brought the team to the cup they missed out on last year, throwing himself at you as soon as you appeared before him. He was sweaty, half-dressed in his gear with his skates still on as he embraced you tighter than anyone ever had before.

He put his lips on yours the second he saw your face as you pulled away, unable to help himself despite the groans and retches of his teammates, despite the fact that an entire bleacher’s worth of people saw you both.

Not that either of you cared; you were just happy he didn’t have his mouth guard on (and that he kissed you before you couldn’t help it yourself).

It was in your junior year and Seungcheol’s senior year that you began to hear the absurdities about the strength of your relationship, that you wouldn’t make it, that high school sweethearts never do.

With shaking hands, you grip your boyfriend’s arm as he has a conflicted look in his eye.

“No,” you say. You wonder where all of this strength was coming from when you all wanted was to cry. “You’re gonna go. You will go. I won’t let you throw all of this away because of something that’s never gonna waver.”

He’s silent as he refuses to meet your gaze. The voices were getting to him, his older college friends laughing when he suggested that his relationship would last both college and the distance it would bring. He realizes he’s not so sure anymore.

He sits cross-legged in front of you on your bedroom floor, mentally prepared to walk out for the last time.

“You’re supposed to be happiest about this; I don’t understand why you insist I leave. And so far away?” he looks slightly bewildered.

“Because you’ll regret it if you don’t. This isn’t about me, Cheol, it’s about everything you’ve worked for all these years—”

“Us, what about us? I’ve worked on us, too.”

“Why have you gone years without listening to a word what other people say to only listening to them now?”

“Was it just me, then? Because it feels like I’m the only one worried about our future together—”

“Choi Seungcheol, stop right there.” Your voice is brittle, and you don’t know how long you can keep the tears at bay.

“I…I don’t know what to think,” his shoulders slump even lower.

His hockey scholarship would take him so, so far away. He thought you were strong enough for this, but with every anecdote, every comment, every dejected “have it your way” to his resilience, he wonders if the both of you would be forced to fight a losing battle if he left.

There were sports universities here at home, but there was no you with his scholarship.

“I’ll tell you what to think. Will you listen to me?”

Slowly, but surely, he nods.

“You can get the scholarship you’ve always wanted, and we can stay as we are, although a little farther away.”

He looks like he wants to say something but doesn’t.

“I believe in us. And if you don’t right now, I’m ready to believe for the both of us. We’ll get through this.”

In the end, Seungcheol believed you over everything the world told him, praying he wouldn’t let you or himself down as he laid with you on the last night he’d call his bedroom home.

Graduation was a happy endeavor, momentarily forgetting what lay ahead as he enjoyed his last hours with all his friends in one place. The heavy feeling returned as the night progressed, agreeing to spend the night with him, tucked under his covers as you listened to his heartbeat. You wonder how long it will be until you're able to do this again.

As you lay in his stripped bedroom, there’s little either of you say, an unspoken agreement to not sleep, not tonight. He has an early morning, but he doesn’t really seem to care as he continues to fiddle with your hair, kissing you at intervals like he's trying to bring back the feeling when it begins to fade.

There’s little you can talk about when you’re trying to memorize each other’s scent. You remind yourself to give him your sweater when morning comes, already noting the hoodie you need to remember to pick up, the lone one he left you in his closet.

But as the first rays of sun peeked through the blinds, sending stripes of sun into the bedroom, you tried not to feel the hard clench of your heart as the bare room came into sight. Despite the snoozing of alarms, the multiple knocks on his door, and the dawn of a new day, you let yourselves have an extra five, ten, fifteen, twenty minutes.

Just you and him before it would be you, and it would be him.

Seungcheol called you more than you called him. It was everywhere, even if it was just to say a quick “I love you” before a game, to hear your voice before he went to class, to listen to you complain about an assignment before he had to do his own.

As resilient as you showed yourself to be, you’d be lying if you said there was a part of you that was afraid of how much faith Seunghceol held for the both of you, but at ease you were with the constant bugging he’d do and the bugging he seemed to appreciate back.

By Christmastime, he’d texted you his itinerary for the holidays, explaining how he couldn’t spare a second to things like thinking. Most of his list involved spending all day rotting indoors with you.

As much as Seungcheol had hoped you’d pick a college nearer to him, he was less scared when you finally announced your college decisions close to graduation. The past year had proved a lot, mostly that you both were stronger than the distance. Which is why he was the first to congratulate you when you got into the college of your choice, despite the fact that you’d be even farther away, leaving home in what felt like the opposite direction to him.

You were scared too, mostly of how Seungcheol would react, but seeing the smile break out on his face when you told him gave you all the reassurance you needed. That summer brought you the best memories of your teenage years, with Seungcheol, preparing for you both to leave. Except this time, the air was less tense, fewer tears shed, fewer solemn goodbyes at airport gates, and less desperation in both of your hearts. A surety that you’d come back to each other.

Seungcheol was offered a contract with his dream hockey team when you were on the cusp of your final year. He told you nearly two weeks after he received the first email, not believing it until he was pestered to do so by the representative.

You cried on the phone that night, the ache in your chest unbelievably present as you wished you could hug him at that moment. He denied his own tears, but you knew his glassier-than-normal eyes weren’t just through the camera lens. You told him you were proud, you told him this was only the beginning, that you needed to sit in the bleachers with his jersey on for every game he’ll ever play, that he was about to have an entire career to be proud of soon.

He let a couple tears slip.

And when he showed up to your graduation, sitting next to your family, you gave him the biggest hug you could muster from your bones. That year may have been the last you’d have to endure apart, but it was somehow the hardest.

It was in that moment, when you pulled away to look at his smiling face, that the years registered in your mind.

You’re fifteen again, seeing Seungcheol for the first time, donning the features he hadn’t grown into yet, the features you hadn’t grown into yet. You have to tiptoe to meet his lips now, see a man where there was once a boy, the deep set of maturity behind his pretty eyes.

When he drops the last of your boxes into his — your shared apartment, you’re brought to the stark realization that you're going to stay here.

It’s when you’re unpacking your toothbrush, placing it in the cup right next to his that you realize you could do whatever you wanted with each other without having to work around flight schedules. It’s when he’s hobbling around wooden planks and screws in the bedroom, putting together the brand new queen-sized bed to replace his too-small twin, that you realize that you weren’t here for the week, or for the month or for any set amount of time; you were here forever.

At least that’s what you hope as you watch him collapse the last of the cardboard boxes to recycle, shoving in the corner of the entryway, leaving that job for tomorrow.

By the time you emerge in the living room after a shower, Seungcheol has already begun to unpack the delivery food on the coffee table. It’s an array of delicious smells, slightly soggy food, and mounds of styrofoam and plastic wrap; a feast for your tired, tired bodies.

The dumplings are amazing, and the warm feeling in your chest expands as you realize you can now order them whenever you like.

Seungcheol picks out the chopped chilies from his food, migrating them onto your own plate as he talks about his next practice session without interruption.

A thought occurs to you in that moment as you watch him down his cola. “Hasn’t coach put you on a diet plan?”

“Yeah,” he says normally. You merely stare at him, not understanding how any of this junk could be any good for his form, especially when you know he’s good about abstaining when it comes to training.

He smiles at the questioning look on your face, setting down his utensils, “It’s our first meal, in our first home. I think we deserve to share this with each other.”

A smile breaks out on your face at the thought of this being your first meal, the first of many meals together in this home. Of all the meals you’ll share in every home after this, every day.

And while Seungcheol finds himself sacrificing his diet to enjoy all of this greasy grub with you, you will also find yourself occasionally sharing his awfully bland chicken breasts and salads. All to share with each other.

Walking into the bustling restaurant in your uncomfortable shoes and your arm around Seungcheol’s, you’re quick to find the group you’re looking for.

The noise is a dead giveaway, and you quickly realize they haven’t changed.

You hear Soonyoung before you see him, his distinct laugh echoing the loudest across the sea of mingling heads. A loud banner hangs at the end of the room with your high school grad year.

You detach from Seungcheol as he finds his junior friends, and you find yours, taking both Soonyoung and Jiwoo into a bone-crushing hug. It’s been a while since you last saw them. The crowd of familiar faces greets you, making small talk with everyone as they introduce you to their partners and even their children. You’ve grown; all of you have.

“Seungcheol’s here too. You guys were together in high school, right?” somebody asks you at some point during the night. “He graduated before us, though; wonder who he’s here with.”

You don’t blame them for assuming, considering both of you have been in your own circles all night. That, added to the obvious assumptions of high school sweethearts, you only laugh a little as you reply with a wider-than-usual smile.

“Oh, he’s here with me,”

You go home with a permanent smile stuck to your face, talking more animatedly than usual in the car ride home. Seuncheol mirrors your smile as he listens.

Your good mood prevails for the rest of the night, even as you slip under the covers, ready to end the night on a happier-than-usual note. Seungcheol is reading his book when you crawl under his arm, head on his chest, and your arm slung across his torso. You feel his lips on the top of your head, the faint sound of his book being placed on the bedside table.

“What’s got you so smiley?” he asks with one of his own.

You shake your head as you reply, “Nothing. I’m just happy I saw Soonyoung and Jiwoo.”

“I’m glad you saw them too. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

You hum in response, suddenly remembering a conversation you had. “You know, Jess asked me who you were there with.”

“Figures,” he shrugs before laughing a little.“How much did she hesitate before asking you?”

“Looked like she was holding it in for a little bit. Don’t blame her, though. She probably thought we ended it in epic teenage fashion.”

He snorts at that, “Probably would’ve if you didn’t talk some sense into me.”

“Probably would’ve if you didn’t trust me like you did,” you crane your neck to look at him.

“Glad I wasn’t that far gone,” he whispers, a faraway look in his eyes despite looking directly at you. “Haven’t doubted us ever since.”

There’s that warm feeling that spreads throughout your body, an overwhelming feeling of contentment coming over you. There was nothing, nothing, that could convince you to be anywhere else, especially anywhere that wasn’t in his arms.

“Sometimes…well, a lot of the times, I think about us,” you start. “I thought us hitting six months was enough to tell me I’d be with you forever.”

He smiles at the thought of high school you, starry-eyed, awkward little kids. He remembers the way you blushed when he kissed you for the first time in front of the whole school, the heat that had risen to his own face at the time.

“And then we hit a year, and then two years,” you remember every surprise for every anniversary, from when you’d collect your allowance for weeks to get him something he’d like.

“And then college happened. I tried being so positive, but I had never been more scared for us. I hope we never have to go through something that hard ever again.” You almost sound like a child not wanting to go to the doctor’s office, but with the way you feel yourself tighten your grip around him, you don’t think it’s any different.

You can feel your eyes begin to well, and your voice begins to shake. It was nearly comical how quickly the smiles were turning into sentimental tears.

Seungcheol places a kiss on your lips, and you know it was meant to be reassuring, but it only wrenches open the floodgates. The tears begin to make their way down your face, sniffles muffled as you go back to burying your face in his chest, his shirt soaking the wetness. You can feel a rumble in his chest as he laughs at your state. He’s also squeezing up your sides and placing kisses in any place he can reach.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you murmur into his shirt.

“It’s okay. Today was very reflective,” he reassures, letting you stay hidden.

“I just—” you sniff. “I just wanna stay happy like this all the time.”

It’s only then that he guides your stained face away from his shirt to bring you to look at him, wiping the remnants of your tears as you try to keep the fresh ones at bay. “We’ll be happy, even when we’re sad. I can’t not be happy when I know I have you. I love you too much for that.”

“I love you,” you whisper into his lips, arms around his neck as you pull yourself to him, chest to chest. You kiss him properly, pecking him a few times to have your fill.

And then he’s pulling away, ever so slightly to bring a bare millimeter of gap between your lips. His hands burn where they rest, one on your waist, one on your thigh. He’s breathing hard. Both of you are.

“I’m gonna say something so not fit for right now,” he breathes.

You can’t help but freeze in his hold as you register his words, hesitating before you ask. “What?”

“Marry me.”

It comes out as the same whisper, directly into your lips as he utters the words. Like he was keeping a secret from the walls and the furniture, like they were only meant for you; because they were only meant for you. Your heart stops, and you vaguely wonder if you’re breathing at all.

“I—” he takes a long, shaky breath from his nose. “I was supposed to do this a little differently, but…”

You watch him reach over into his bedside drawer, the one you never touch, and bring out the smallest velvet box. Opening it reveals the prettiest, most delicate diamond you’ve ever seen, the jewel glinting and sparkling even in the dim bedroom lights.

That’s when you let out a tiny gasp, feeling the tears return, dripping down your face one after the other. “Choi Seuncheol, you bitch.”

You’re sobbing at this point, and it has him sitting up straighter, leaving the box to the side as he lurches for you when you pull away.

“Wait, fuck, sorry, I thought,” he exhales in frustration, hands trying to pull yours away from your face as you cry into your hands. He sounds desperate. “I got carried away, I don’t know what I was thinking—”

“No, it’s not that,” you finally manage through hiccups.

“Yes, of course, I’ll marry you, I’m just fucking emotional.”

You hear him laugh again, no doubt out of pure relief, as he nearly doubles over at the situation.

You’re a little calmer as you continue to sniffle, watching him with a half-disgruntled, half-amused expression, “Put it on, stupid, or do I need to cry again for you to do that.”

You don’t need to tell him twice as he slips the ring on your finger, the perfect fit, the perfect jewel, the perfect ring.

Bringing him closer, you kiss him again, lips pressed hard on his as you try to communicate every last emotion into it. You’re out of words, and you hope he knows what you're feeling. You know he knows; he always knows.

He’s reciprocating with the same vigor, arms coming up to wrap around you so tight it pushes you flush against his body. He nips at your lip, running his tongue over it for good measure before letting it enter your mouth. You let him take the lead, let him guide you through every motion, every step forward.

You’re putty when he pulls off your clothes for you, feeling your heart scream in protest whenever he pulls away to get rid of the obstructions. Your emotions were in a delicate place, and you suddenly couldn’t handle not being able to feel him against you consistently.

He does well to make it quick, moving back on top of you to occupy your mouth once more. He tries to migrate lower, latching onto your neck to continue his ministrations there, but you don’t let him as you pull his face back to yours again.

“I love you,” you whisper against his mouth before latching onto his lips.

He lets out a low grunt, pulling away for breath as he whispers it back, “I love you more.”

If you won’t let his mouth move, you let his hands do whatever they wish, feeling them move lower against your sides to reach your hips. His thumbs draw circles on them as he slowly moves his hands to where you can feel the arousal grow.

His fingers hit your bare heat as he plunges them into your folds, encasing your clit between his fingers. He drags them up slowly before moving back down, all the way to your now sopping hole to brush against the opening.

You sigh against his lips as he pushes his finger in slowly, lips releasing yours as you throw your head back to feel his digit around your walls. He pushes a second one in without hesitation, and you know he’s just as desperate as you right now.

He’s only two fingers deep, and yet you feel yourself beginning to come undone. He always knew what to do when he wanted to stretch you out faster, always knew what to do when he wanted to draw the pleasure out, keep you writhing for hours.

Right now was different; it felt like he was holding himself back to the point where it was almost painful. If he wasn’t worried about the stretch, he would’ve buried himself inside you already, and yet, when he feels you clench undeniably hard around his fingers as you orgasm, he feels like he might’ve cum himself.

His low moans echo off the walls with your louder, more desperate ones, riding out your high as you feel him bring his other hand up to rub your clit in fast circles, making the pleasure last. Coming down from your high, you feel him pause for a moment as he peppers kisses on your face, down your jaw and neck, finally coming to press his lips against yours.

“You okay?”

You nod in response, already grasping at his boxers to yank them down. Despite having just orgasmed, the satisfaction is yet to come, needing to feel him inside you before you combusted entirely.

He helps as he discards himself of the final obstruction, letting you stroke his painfully hard member in your hands. The face he makes is heavenly as you watch him feel your hands wrapped around him. The impatience takes over as he finally removes your hands, instead pinning them beside your head as he guides himself to your entrance.

Seungcheol goes back to planting himself onto you entirely, knowing exactly what you wanted from him, needing to feel him against you so flush and tight. He lets you wrap your hands around his neck as he finally begins to push himself into you, letting his tip graze the beginning of your entrance.

He breathes into your neck in deep, deep exhales, trying so hard not to cum before he’s even entered you entirely. He takes his time pushing into you, focusing on your fingers as they play with his hair, your palms running down his shoulder blades in a pathway. He closes his eyes as he sheaths himself in you completely, continuing his steady breaths to not come undone before you.

He begins to move when he feels like he’s gotten a hold of his bearings, feeling you hold onto him as he starts thrusting into your cunt. The sounds you make are bliss; the feeling of every inch of your skin on his is making him lose his already lost mind.

Your arms drop when they can’t hold onto him any longer, your hands remaining on him regardless, in some way or the other. Seungcheol takes hold of your hand, emerging from the crook of your neck to bring it to his mouth. He kisses it, your palms, the back of your hand, your fingers, directly over the rock he slipped on you himself.

The tenderness of his actions makes your brain rattle against your skull, the building feeling in your abdomen coming so close to collapsing into release. You find yourself pushing yourself up on your elbows, face finding the crook of his shoulder as you push yourself back into him when pulled back in the slightest.

You’re so close now, so, so close. “Cheol,”

“I know, darling. Cum for me, baby, I’ve got you, I’ve always got you.”

You release to the sound of his voice, the words that tumble from his desperate mouth, the feeling of his own cum shooting inside your spent walls. He continues to thrust into you as you both let out the loudest moans of the night, letting yourself get wrapped up in the feeling of each other before you lose your peak.

You register nothing as you feel him drop his weight on top of you, letting the moment pass.

Despite having had nights rougher, more lengthy than this, you somehow feel more spent than you have at the end of any of those escapades. The answer comes to you in the few minutes it takes for you both to catch your breath, Cheol being just as fatigued as you despite his athlete stamina.

You feel him continue to press his lips onto your skin, letting you do the same to him in between kisses. Neither of you speak for another few minutes, letting the heaviness of your hearts come forth in the showers of love you seem to want to give each other.

He’s grasping your left hand, toying with the ring fitted there. “I can’t wait to spend forever with you.”

A picture of the both of you hangs on the wall in your bedroom, dim yet decipherable in the low lights. There’s a moment where you have a flash of that same photo on multiple different walls. Different shades of neutral, in different rooms in different houses. It’s the same picture.

You think of what forever might hold for the both of you, separately and together. You let the prospect of every step, every change, and every milestone wash over you in waves that keep coming, crashing back to feed into another.

Change, you rehearse. There had been lots of it, and yet you had merely scratched the surface of what life was about to throw at you. You knew that, Seungcheol knew that. But you found yourself, in that moment, convinced in entirety that change is good, whether it feels good or bad.

Distance makes the heart grow fonder; you didn't realize the meaning of the phrase until you had to live apart from the love of your life. Painful, difficult, sometimes agonizing, yet also necessary, you conclude. You wonder if your love would ever have grown this deep if you hadn’t felt life without each other.

You think of how far you’ve come, how you’ve grown with each other. There was an encompassing of gratefulness that came with every step you had taken, and with every step you would take henceforth, you knew that for certain.

Perhaps you would find yourself voicing these emotional thoughts to him, but not now. The unspoken was louder than anything you could say.

“I can’t wait to spend forever with you, too.”

taglist (strikthru could not be tagged): @rubyreduji @vampirexlotita @simqly-yunjin @tomodachiii

#seventeen #seventeen fluff #seventeen smut #seventeen imagines #seungcheol fluff #seuncheol smut #seungcheol imagines #seungcheol scenarios #seungcheol x reader #seungchel angst #scoups #svt #svt smut #em.writes

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zzbubblegumbitchzz · 26 days ago

Text

i don’t write a lot of lukey stuff so here’s a gift for my fave gals

wc: 570

cw: kinda mean luke, spanking, gagging?

He had no shame. No shame in the sounds falling from your throat. No shame in the fingerprints he’s left on your hips from how hard he’s pulling you back onto his cock.

How could he? Especially when his sweet girl all but begged him to play with her. Sitting all pretty on his couch with his hoodie on and a pair of lace that he could barely call panties. Smile so sweet and pure when he walked in the door, “Missed you, Lukey.”

That’s how he ended up with your head in the couch cushion, fucking into your wet heat with vengeance.

“How long were you waiting for me? What would you have done if it was Jack or Quinn that walked through that door? God,“ His voice staggered. Stuck in his throat, the feeling of your heat clenching around him, almost begging him not to move. “Trevor never would’ve shut the fuck up about seeing my girl sitting pretty waiting for me.”

He knew you better than he cared to admit. He knew you felt the most at ease with his hand in your hair or around your throat, making those sweet noises he's committed to memory.

When he brought up bringing someone this summer, no one expected it to be you. Let alone, with his arm around your waist, and a smile on his face whenever your small voice said his name.

“Since you left this morn - fuck!”

He chuckled down at you, a slight shake of his head. His hands gripping your hips and forcing you to stay still.

“You were that greedy huh? Weren't we thankful at all? I was late to the gym, all because your cunt was crying. I wasn't going to leave you all messy and needy. Seems like even that wasn't enough for you.” He knew he was being mean, he knew you were going to cry, he knew it was only a matter of time before he was going to need to stuff your mouth so he could finish both of you and carry you to bed.

“Pathetic, really.” He reached down next to your body, one hand holding your hip still and grabbed the lace with the other.

His arm was placed in front of your face now, “what time is it, pretty baby?”

“Luke, what does this-” Voice laced with confusion.

“Answer the question.” His voice had an edge to it. Almost like he was mad, mad that you even thought to question him right now.

“Fuck, um.” Hyper focused on the way his fingers felt on your skin. “It’s 1:35, please. Need you to move.”

“I’ll move baby, don't worry. Just gotta shut you up. They all get home at 1:45 and if you don't want anyone to see how slutty you get for me. Open.” Before he shoved the wet fabric in your mouth and started to move his hips.

“Now, I could be real nice and let you finish too. I don’t think I am though, I don’t think you deserve that.” His hand landed a sharp smack to your skin, just as the front door opened and a voice yelled were home.

“Oh baby honey, that’s my queue.” His paced quickened right before he spilled his cum inside you.

“Put your underwear on, and i’ll take you upstairs. Get you cleaned up and taken care of.” He spoke as he pressed kisses up your spine.

#luke hughes blurb #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes smut #luke hughes imagine #nhl smut #nhl fanfiction #nhl blurb #luke hughes fic #lh43

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storytimewithnina · 7 days ago

Text

Tension (Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader (Manager!Reader x Karasuno)

Summary: A slow-burning connection sparks between y/n and Nekoma’s captain during a training camp.

Word count: 6000~

~~~~~

The smell of floor polish and sweat welcomed you the second you stepped into the gym. Another training camp, another round of chaos. But this time it wasn’t just Karasuno.

Nekoma was here too.

You juggled towels and water bottles, dodging Hinata sprinting after a loose ball while trying not to trip over Tanaka’s gym bag.

“Sorry, Y/N!” Hinata called, ducking past you. You laughed and shook your head, adjusting your grip on the crate of drinks.

“Need a hand with that?”

The voice was unfamiliar, smooth, and playful. You turned—straight into the chest of a tall figure, lean and broad-shouldered, with messy black hair and the kind of half-smile that spelled trouble.

You took a cautious step back. “I’m fine, thanks.”

“Ah, you’re Karasuno’s manager.” He grinned, sharp like a cat. “I’m Kuroo. Nekoma’s captain. But I’m sure you already knew that.”

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you looked him up and down, then smiled politely. “I figured. You’re the one who keeps glaring at Tsukishima during blocking drills.”

He chuckled. “Glaring? Nah, I’m just testing him. That one’s got potential.”

You raised a brow. “Or maybe you just like provoking people.”

Kuroo tilted his head, still smiling. “Maybe. But you’re the first one to say it out loud.”

Before you could come up with a clever retort, Daichi called out, “Y/N, we need towels over here!”

You gave Kuroo a nod and turned to go.

“Hey, wait,” he said, half-jogging after you. “What’s your name?”

You paused, glancing at him over your shoulder. “Y/N.”

“Y/N.” He repeated it slowly, like trying it on for the first time. “Nice to meet you. I’ll try not to distract you too much.”

You laughed softly. “You say that like you think you’re a distraction.”

“Oh, I know I am.”

The next few days blurred into a blur of drills, scrimmages, and late-night stretches. You’d never admit it aloud, but you found yourself scanning the gym for Kuroo more than once.

He didn’t always approach—but when he did, it was never without a comment or smirk. And you always rose to meet it.

“You always this organized?” he asked once, watching you re-tape Karasuno’s water bottles with names.

“You always this nosy?” you shot back.

He had that way of smiling, like your words had just made his entire day.

Karasuno, of course, noticed.

“Why does he keep looking over here?” Noya muttered during a break.

“Maybe he’s scouting,” Tanaka growled. “Or maybe he’s a predator.”

You rolled your eyes. “You guys are being dramatic.”

“We’re just saying,” Daichi chimed in, “he’s clever. Watch out.”

Tsukishima, nearby, snorted. “She can handle herself. Unlike some people.”

One evening, after everyone else had gone off to shower or collapse into futons, you lingered behind in the gym, re-stocking first aid supplies and double-checking the floor for forgotten water bottles.

Kuroo appeared in the doorway, towel draped over his neck. “You ever take a break?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

He walked over, glancing at the half-packed boxes. “You do all this every day?”

You shrugged. “Karasuno’s got big dreams. Someone’s got to hold it together.”

Kuroo was quiet for a moment, the weight of his gaze resting on you in a way that made your fingers fidget with the edge of the medical tape.

“That’s… kind of admirable,” he said finally. “I figured you were just—”

“Just what?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Honestly? A manager who cheered and handed out towels. But I was wrong.”

You gave him a half-smile. “You’re not the first.”

Kuroo looked at you like he wanted to say more—but Bokuto suddenly burst into the gym yelling something about forgetting his lucky socks, and the moment vanished.

The training camp’s final night came with the soft hum of cicadas and the warmth of a modest campfire the coaches had reluctantly allowed—“Just one hour, and no shenanigans,” Ukai had warned.

Everyone gathered around, tired but buzzing with that specific brand of energy that comes after a week of sweat and near-tears. Hinata and Bokuto were swapping ridiculous stories, Noya and Tanaka were challenging each other to one-armed push-ups, and Kuroo… was looking for you.

You were a few feet away from the fire, perched on a rock, jotting down notes about injuries and rest rotations into your worn little notebook.

“You’re something else, you know that?”

You looked up, startled. Kuroo sat down next to you, close but not too close. There was a pause where your shoulders brushed—barely—but enough for your heart to hiccup.

“Something good or something irritating?” you asked.

“Both,” he said with a lazy grin, watching the firelight catch your features. “But mostly good.”

You snorted softly. “That’s the most honest thing you’ve said all week.”

He tilted his head. “I’ve been honest the whole time. I just didn’t expect you to be so… hard to read.”

“Most people don’t try,” you murmured, not quite looking at him.

“Well,” he said, voice quieter now, “I guess I’m not most people.”

The silence that followed was surprisingly gentle—not heavy, not awkward. Just two people sitting near a fire, hearts quietly doing their own dangerous things.

The next morning brought an unceremonious end to the magic. The gym was being cleaned out, bags were being packed, and Karasuno was already halfway through organizing equipment. You were tired, your limbs aching, and your heart was still trying to sort itself out after last night.

Kuroo caught your eye as you loaded the last of the ice packs into the team cooler. He gave you a short wave, a smile you couldn’t read, and then disappeared behind Lev and Yaku arguing about who misplaced the last tape roll.

You turned back to your team—Daichi was calling for you, and the bus was almost ready. Reality was returning with a vengeance.

You didn’t see Kuroo again before the buses pulled away.

It wasn’t like you expected daily messages. You weren’t even sure if Kuroo had your number—though you had a sneaking suspicion he could get it if he wanted to.

But when a text popped up a few nights later, your breath hitched anyway.

Unknown Number:

Hey.

You’re hard to forget.

–Kuroo

You stared at it for a minute before answering.

You:

I thought cats liked pretending they didn’t care.

Kuroo:

I tried. Didn’t work.

That conversation didn’t end. In fact, it grew. Some nights it was memes and sarcasm. Other nights, it was late conversations about nerves before matches and which teammate was secretly the most annoying (you both agreed it was Lev, but lovingly so).

But neither of you brought up what happened at the campfire. Not yet.

A few weeks later, Karasuno traveled to Tokyo for another match, this time in a small joint training event with Fukurodani and Nekoma. You knew he’d be there, but still—you weren’t prepared.

He found you almost instantly when you arrived at the gym, striding over like he’d been counting the seconds.

“Did you miss me?” he asked, casually reaching for the clipboard in your hand.

“I didn’t even know you’d be here,” you lied.

He raised a brow. “Ruthless.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re the one who texted ‘You’re hard to forget.’ So dramatic.”

He grinned, that spark dancing in his eyes. “Can’t help it. You bring it out in me.”

And again, just like before, Karasuno noticed.

Kiyoko raised a brow at you across the court. Daichi watched Kuroo with the suspicion of a man who knew trouble when he saw it. And when Tanaka caught you smiling at your phone later (yes, Kuroo had sent a meme of a cat knocking over a volleyball), he nearly choked on his energy drink.

It happened after a rough match Karasuno lost in a close set. You stayed behind to clean up, furious at yourself for forgetting to restock the cold packs.

Kuroo found you crouched beside the open cooler, your hands trembling from exhaustion and frustration.

“Y/N,” he said gently. “You okay?”

You didn’t answer right away. You hated crying over small things. It wasn’t the ice packs. It was everything—wanting to be enough, not knowing where you stood, always being fine for everyone else.

He crouched next to you.

“Hey,” he said softly. “You don’t have to be strong all the time.”

You blinked back tears. “It’s just ice. I’m fine.”

He touched your arm. Not demanding, not assuming—just grounding.

“You know,” he said quietly, “I tried to ignore it. But I like you.”

You looked at him, heart pounding. “You… what?”

“I like you,” he repeated, his voice steady. “And it scares the hell out of me, because I don’t want to mess it up. You matter.”

You stared at him, the words flooding warmth through your chest, slow and aching and so, so real.

“I like you too,” you whispered.

And he smiled—genuine, not teasing.

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

He didn’t kiss you right away. It wasn’t rushed.

It was texts at midnight, long glances before matches, late conversations in gym hallways, and quiet support when the pressure got heavy.

It was Noya threatening him playfully. It was Daichi giving a nod of reluctant approval. It was Lev awkwardly yelling “are you guys dating??” across the court, and Kuroo just smirking and saying, “Maybe.”

It was slow. It was warm. It was butterflies in your stomach every single time he said your name like it meant something. Like you meant something.

And you did.

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emeraldserenade · 1 month ago

Note

could you please write something about Joaquin dating bucky’s protege? It would be funny seeing Sam and Buckys reaction and Bucky being all protective over the reader :) thanks!

Dating The Protege ~ Joaquín Torres

synopsis: Bucky is maybe a little too overprotective of you

tw: fem!reader, reader wears sports bra and a pair of athletic shorts,

fic, ficlet, drabble, request

And I am out of requests again, but I am loving them all. I hope this is what you wanted!

➽──────────────❥

Bucky took you in, it couldn't have been an easier decision. You reminded him of him, you weren't from Hydra or the Red Room, your parents were just normal scientists. Scientists that didn't have properly put up chemicals or properly locked rooms. You were just a child, one that didn't know better, but suddenly you had ingested some serum. A less potent super serum from what your parents told you, you weren't paying attention. You were a child after all, why would you pay attention?

"And this is James Buchanan Barnes," your parents had introduced you to him after your 18th birthday. You accidentally ripped the door to one of the rooms in the house clean off, you hadn’t meant to. You just were upset that you got stood up by your prom date and pulled it off.

"Hi, y/n," Bucky offered his hand to you, you knew about him. Having heard the stories and seen the news about The Winter Soldier.

"Hi, Mr. Barnes," you shook his hand, careful not to squeeze too tight.

"You can call me Bucky," he told you as your parents grabbed your bags. They had promised to send you the rest of your things to you in DC when they packed it, the plane ride from California to DC was not enough space for everything. "Are you ready?" He glanced between you and your parents.

"Yeah, I just gotta say goodbye," you told him and spun to face your parents.

"We love you, honey," your mom was the first to hug you.

"Have fun and be safe, ok, birdie?" Your dad hugged you and you nodded gently.

"I love both of you," you told them and took your bags.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

"Don't flirt with him," Bucky pointed at you, you raised your hands at him. You had been with him for years, he knew you enough to know Joaquín was your type.

"And if I do?" You challenged.

"Then I'll make you go back to 3am runs," Bucky raised his eyebrows at you.

"Woah, woah, woah, man, hey! Wait a minute, no need to be so harsh!" You were too busy yelling at Bucky to notice Sam and Joaquín walking in. Joaquín paused when he saw you, they had come to the gym to meet you and Bucky. Bucky was insistent that they meet you somewhere you were comfortable, and your level of comfortability was evident in how you dressed in only a sports bra and a pair of shorts.

"Harsh? It's called a punishment for a reason," Bucky laughed and you smacked his upper arm.

"Buck, are you being mean to your protege?" Sam laughed through his question, and you spun to face the two new comers. You paused when you saw Joaquín, you understood why Bucky was telling you to not flirt with him. Joaquín was exactly your type and the way his smile lit up his face.

"He's always mean to me," you recovered, knowing Bucky was already aware of your new crush.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

"What part of don't flirt with him got lost in translation?" Bucky watched as you moved around your room, getting ready for your date with Joaquín.

"He flirted with me first! Was I supposed to just let the embodiment of my dream guy just go?" You looked at Bucky.

"Yes! What if you need me?" Bucky told you, you knew he meant to malice to his words. You had just grown on him and he was worried about you.

"Bucky, I promise, if I need you I'll call. If I need you and I can't call, then I will have Joaquín call. And for whatever reason, neither of us can call, then I will make sure to struggle enough that my necklace alerts you," you walked towards Bucky as you spoke.

"And if Joaquín is the reason you need me?" Bucky asked and you laughed.

"You think that Joaquín Torres, the walking definition of a golden retriever boy, will hurt me? Especially knowing that I have you waiting for me and that Sam will make his life a living hell," you raised your eyebrow at him.

"I," Bucky met your eyes and you saw him give in. "Ok, go have fun, bee," Bucky ruffled your hair and you pushed your hair back into place.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

"Hi," you looked at Joaquín, he was standing at the door with flowers.

"Hi," Joaquín smiled at you and you two just stared at each other for a moments before Bucky fake coughed.

"Oh, uh, you can come in while I get these a vase," you told Joaquín but Bucky stopped you at the door.

"I'll take care of these, you two have fun," Bucky ushered you out the door and you and Joaquín made your way to his car.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

"If he hurts her," Bucky started his threats again but Sam cut him off.

"Shut it, man. They'll notice us," took his eyes off where you and Joaquín were walking in the park eating ice cream. You two had your arms linked together and leaning towards each other.

"I'm just saying," Bucky told Sam and you looked in their direction. Joaquín looked over to and you both just stared them down.

"You got us caught, man," Sam smacked Bucky and they both watched as you and Joaquín took off down the path away from them. Your laughter echoing back at them as if taunting them. That's when they both knew you two would be alright, even if it hurt Bucky watching you grow up just a little bit more.

➽──────────────❥

Masterlist | Requests

#joaquin torres #joaquin torres x reader #joaquin torres x you #mcu #cabnw #cabnw spoilers #marvel mcu

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sugar-gumdrop · 2 months ago

Text

"Tad Too Late" Oikawa x Reader

Pairing: Tooru Oikawa x f! Reader

Soulmate AU: Whatever you draw on your body also shows up on your soulmate.

Word Count: 1.2k+

Aoba Johsai’s volleyball team was fed up with their captain’s off-topic chatter. If they stood a chance at winning the day’s match, then Oikawa would need to stop fretting over the prolonged absence of his soulmate.

“Where do you think they went? I haven’t received a message in ages,” the captain murmured, absentmindedly rubbing off the unanswered question on his wrist. He frowned as the ink stained his thumb a dark blue.

Upon the worried looks some of the first-years were giving him, Iwaizumi surged forward, slapping his best friend across the back of his head.

“Ow! What the hell was that for-”

“Get your head in the game!” Iwaizumi yelled. The setter quieted as he glanced around at his teammates. Most of them deflected their eyes to the floor. “We need to win this game if we want to shoot for nationals. Typically, today should be a piece of cake if our setter gets their head up and out of their ass and focuses!"

“I am focused!” Oikawa argued. The sharp glare Iwaizumi cast his way told him he thought differently. “...I haven’t mentioned them that much.”

“Oh, really? Then there shouldn’t be a problem.” Stepping back, Iwaizumi motions for another third-year. “Matsukawa.”

“Got it,” the boy said.

“Got what?” Oikawa didn’t seem to like where this was going.

“You wanna daydream about who your soulmate might be? Fine.” Iwaizumi shrugged, Matsukawa and Hanamaki grabbing hold of Oikawa’s arms before he could react. “Just do it on your own time. For now, we’re just gonna help you get over this hurdle.”

Meanwhile, on the other side of the building, you were sprinting down the halls. The current matches scheduled for the day were already going, and you were running late.

You could hear the sounds of shoes squeaking against the gym floor as you dashed up the stairs to the bleachers. Unlike your usual placement, you sat in the public area, the school section already full, which wasn’t an unusual occurrence. A couple of girls from neighboring schools did a double take when you passed by, whispering to one another.

“You don’t think?”

“Of course not, it’s probably just a public stunt to gather attention.”

You didn’t bother turning their way to get some context, seeing as how their conversation didn’t seem to be about you, even though their glares while you shimmied by told you otherwise.

Once you settle in, five minutes seem to go by before the two of them start shouting.

“Go, Oikawa!”

Drifting your eyes to watch your school team, you see the infamous setter up to serve. As he throws the volleyball up into the air before slamming it across the court, you can barely focus on anything beside him, even as the onlookers cheer when he gets the point without interference from the other team’s receivers.

While hard to see from so far away, something black stained his face.

Suddenly nauseous, you rub your cheeks aggressively. When you pull your hands back, they have a slight black tint to them.

No one seems to notice when you rush out of the gym.

The restroom was vacant when you bursted through the door. As you swore under your breath, you turned on the faucet.

In the mirror, clear as day, was a drawn, filled-in black heart on your left cheek.

You started to weep as each scrub-down with the soap didn’t seem to erase it.

It was permanent marker.

“This can’t be happening…” you mumbled over and over again.

As you kept wiping away at your face until the skin became raw, you thought back to last year when everything started to go downhill.

~~~~~~~~

Thirty minutes.

Thirty minutes until class was over and summer vacation starts. You would officially be in your final year of high school.

Like most other students in your class, you weren’t paying attention to a single thing the teacher was relaying for summer work.

You smirked at the little alien you drew on the back of your hand, completing the mural of your entire right arm.

For the remainder of class, you scribbled nonsense onto your left arm to match the random sketches and math problems on the other half of your body.

The bell rang right as your pen refused to give any more ink.

Covering up the temporary arm sleeves with a light jacket, you raced to leave, passing the outdoor gym.

That’s when you heard it: his voice.

Oikawa Tooru was a second-year student, just like you, but in a different class.

“Look at what they did!” he whined, his arms flailing above his head.

From the open gym door, you saw all the doodles you had done earlier, only they weren’t on your body.

They were on his.

“Um, Oikawa-San…” You slowly walked in before thinking otherwise. You had just discovered who your soulmate was, and it was one of the most popular boys in school. No one seemed to notice you as he kept yelling.

“They’re really starting to piss me off!” Oikawa huffed in frustration. “I mean seriously, I look like I’ve been graffitied all over!”

“Maybe they’ll put you in an art gallery one day.”

“Very funny, Hanamaki. Whoever this is, they seriously need to consider getting new hobbies.”

“Shouldn’t you be ecstatic, Trashykawa? They’re reaching out to you,” Iwaizumi said. He went to hurl the ball at his annoying face before noticing you standing at the doorway.

“You can’t be serious, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa continued. “Now, I have to waste precious practice time to go wash this off before ink poisoning sets in.”

Your slightly teary eyes met him when he turned.

It was the first time your soulmate made eye contact with you, and you were on the verge of tears.

The worst part was, they weren’t because of some unexplainable happiness.

“Um…” You didn’t know what to say as your voice faltered. Some of the boys started to whisper to one another.

“Here it comes…”

“Another confession…”

“It’s the fifth one this week!”

“Were you looking for me?” Oikawa’s scowl moments ago turned into that flawless smile he gave all his fangirls.

His sudden change in demeanor gave you whiplash.

“Just, um…have a good break!” you yelled, bowing stiffly before racing off.

You hadn’t talked to him since.

~~~~~~~~

Aoba Johsai came out on top once again.

Before the bus would arrive, Iwaizumi walked off to find a restroom. As he rounded the corner, someone rushed out of a room, slamming into him. He barely catches them in his arms as he realizes it’s you.

“Hey, are you alright?” Iwaizumi’s first thought was that you had been crying, your eyes red and your cheeks puffy. Even though he was used to seeing you from afar, he could tell you’re the girl who always watches their games from the school section.

While he wouldn’t outright admit it, a part of him wondered where you had been today.

“I’m fine,” you managed to say with an even voice. Bowing slightly, you go to leave.

Without thinking, Iwaizumi tightens his grip on your wrist, yanking you back towards him.

“I said I was fine, thank you,” you tentatively declare.

That’s when he noticed the smudged heart on your left cheek. The same one his teammates had drawn and made fun of earlier as it slowly smeared across Oikawa’s face during the match.

“Um, can you please let go?” Trying to force your arm back felt like contending with a statue.

“How long have you known-”

“Iwa-chan! You ready to leave?!” Iwaizumi flinches at the sound of Oikawa approaching from behind them, effectively cutting him off.

Taking that chance, you slide out of his grip.

“Hey, wait-” was all the boy could get out before you broke eye contact, running off with your face cast downward.

“Oh, is our Iwa-chan finally understanding the pain of having to let a girl down? I hope you did it gently, but knowing your attitude…” Oikawa sighs, shaking his head.

Iwaizumi didn’t respond.

“Iwa?” Scared he had teased his friend too far, Oikawa stepped back. “Remember, you can’t hit me too hard since we have another game tomorrow.”

Iwaizumi remained frozen, his brain repeating those brief moments of desperation to escape written on your face the moment Oikawa walked up.

In that moment, Iwaizumi realized what had occurred: Oikawa was your soulmate, but you didn’t seem thrilled by the revelation.

And here the idiot was, unaware of it all.

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #hq #hq x reader #hq x you #hq x y/n #oikawa #oikawa tooru #oikawa x reader #iwaizumi hajime #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #fanfic #fanfiction #seijoh #aoba johsai

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haikyu-mp4 · 10 months ago

Note

Mattsun finally confessing to their oblivious manager pls? 🥺🤲 she’s the type to have flirtatious advances fly over her head and Mattsun’s not really good with words (it’s his very first confession. He’s nervous. Makki teasing him about it isn’t helping.)

Like the wind

word count; 744 – gn!reader

Matsukawa Issei was about to lose his mind. The only good thing about flirtatious advances flying right over your head like the wind was that at least you didn’t entertain any other guys who approached you either.

“You look good today.”

“I am feeling rather great, the sun shining always makes me feel revitalised.”

And Mattsun would watch with a little smirk from the sideline as you moved on to fill up water bottles as if his advances didn’t go just about the same way.

Well… except for the fact that they could hardly be called advances when he had no idea how to talk to you.

He would typically come over right as you filled the last bottle to carry the baskets for you, and when you thanked him with that pretty smile, all he could say was “Heh pfft yes. You’re welcome.”

As Makki snickered from the entrance to the gym, Mattsun felt like this might be a mission impossible even Tom Cruise couldn’t handle.

“Mattsun, y/n, go get the net, please!” Oikawa ordered, turning to Iwaizumi with a not-so-subtle wink.

“On it!” you yelled back, jogging over to the adjacent equipment room with Mattsun in tow, who was glaring over his shoulder at his friends.

You picked up the net, making an annoyed sound when a thread had gotten stuck on a hook that was a bit too high up. “Could you get that?” you asked. Issei cleared his throat, which made you take half a step back.

He leaned over you and tugged it loose, letting it fall into your arms. Now that he was standing so close, he gulped, looking at you with parted lips as if even he was wondering if any words would leave him. “Uh… good?” he stuttered, lifting a hand to pat the net.

“Excellent,” you emphasised, glancing out into the gym and then back to Mattsun. “Should we go?”

As he moved just a bit to the side, you slipped past him and scattered away, hoping he couldn’t hear the loud beating of your heart.

You’re walking to the gym in the wintertime, Iwa, Oikawa and Makki walking in front of you and Mattsun beside you, the cold biting at any exposed skin as you moved from your last lecture to the gym for practice. While thinking about something you needed to remember for that class, you started fiddling with your hands in thought, and Mattsun noticed.

“Your hands look cold,” he said, pulling the hand closest to you out of his pocket but not saying anything further.

You looked up at him and tilted your head before looking back at your hands. “Oh? Don’t worry, they’re not.”

He grumbled something along the lines of ‘great’ while watching Makki snicker in front of him, taking mental note of where his next serve would hit. The hand was quickly tucked back in his pocket like nothing happened.

It wasn’t until after the last tournament in their third year that Matsukawa finally decided to go for it. He’d watched his friends break down crying after their devastating loss and he couldn’t help how his heart softened while watching you frantically pull tissues out of a box to dry their tears.

As you checked behind you that no player was left behind, a hand touched your shoulder and slid under the strap of the equipment bag. You didn’t startle, seeing it was Mattsun. “It’s not heavy, you know I can get it,” you said with a knowing smile but didn’t make any effort to take the bag back.

“Makes me feel cool, let me have this,” he joked, and it made the two of you chuckle under your breaths as you left the gym. Having a good cry loosened up his nerves, he supposed. Walking out was bittersweet, wanting to enjoy the last bit of energy from the game while the weight of the loss sat heavily on his shoulders. You couldn’t imagine how they felt, but Matsukawa wanted you to at least know how he felt. “I like you.”

You nodded and kept walking, smiling at the tall guy by your side. “I like you too, you know that.”

He huffed, smiling affectionately but still in disbelief. “No, I like you.”

Your legs stopped moving gradually, grabbing his hand loosely as you stopped. He turned to you with an unsure grimace and you tilted your head. “Why didn’t you say so?”

“Believe me, I tried.”

masterlist

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kitty384 · 27 days ago

Text

Operation: Talk Some Sense Into Your Best Friends

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky’s overprotectiveness during your pregnancy hits an all-time high, and you enlist Steve and Sam to stage a much-needed intervention.

Warnings: Pregnancy, overprotective behavior (comedic), fluff, light swearing, established relationship, mentions of nausea and hormonal shifts

I love my husband.

I really do.

But if he tells me I can’t lift one more thing, I swear on all things holy I’m going to strangle him with the world’s softest maternity blanket.

“Bucky,” I say slowly, placing the folded stack of towels into the linen closet. “It’s laundry. I am literally moving fabric from one surface to another.”

“You’re carrying our baby,” he says seriously, crossing the room like I just lifted a car. “You shouldn’t be lifting anything heavier than a feather.”

I blink. “Towels are not heavy.”

“Towels can cause accidents. Back strain. Slippery floors—”

“Did you just make that up?”

He gently takes the remaining towels from my hands like I’m an elderly Victorian fainting woman. “You’re pregnant. Not allowed.”

I stare at him.

He stares back, unbothered.

This is getting out of hand.

It started around week sixteen.

Just a slight uptick in Bucky’s worry level. Not too crazy. Just a few extra check-ins. Some hovering. The occasional “do you want me to carry you to the couch so you don’t have to walk there?”

Cute. Kind of funny.

Week seventeen? He downloaded three pregnancy tracking apps and started setting my hydration alarms.

Week eighteen? He wouldn’t let me walk to the mailbox alone. Said it was “uneven terrain.”

Today?

He told me I needed a spotter to get out of bed.

I’ve had enough.

I find Sam and Steve in the gym, predictably trying to one-up each other with pull-ups. Steve is winning. Sam is swearing.

I walk in, arms crossed, belly slightly more obvious in my fitted t-shirt, and glare.

They both stop mid-rep.

“Hey, Y/N,” Sam says, wiping sweat from his brow. “You good?”

“No. Your best friend is driving me absolutely insane and I need backup before I fake a dramatic fainting spell and run away to Aruba.”

Steve blinks. “I’m sorry?”

I sigh. “Bucky is in full-blown dad-mode overdrive. He won’t let me carry a grocery bag. He walks me to the bathroom like I’m made of glass. I caught him googling pregnancy-safe shoelace techniques last night.”

Sam chokes on his water.

Steve raises a hand. “Wait—shoelaces?”

“He thinks I’ll fall over if I bend forward.”

Sam snorts. “Okay, that’s a little much.”

“A little?” I throw my hands up. “He almost tackled me for opening the fridge.”

“To be fair, that thing is kind of heavy—”

“STEVE.”

“Right. Sorry.”

I exhale, then lean against the wall. “Look. I know he means well. I love how much he cares. But if someone doesn’t talk him off this overprotective ledge, I am going to scream. Or cry. Or both. At the same time.”

Sam claps a hand on my shoulder. “We’ll handle it.”

Steve nods solemnly. “You’ll have personal space again in no time.”

“Thank you,” I whisper. “Operation: Chill the Hell Out is a go.”

They corner him in the kitchen that afternoon.

I’m not even in the room—I’m just around the corner, eavesdropping like a professional.

“Buck,” Sam says, “we need to talk.”

“About what?”

“About how you’ve turned into the world’s most intense dad before the kid’s even born.”

Steve jumps in. “You’re stressing Y/N out.”

“She’s pregnant,” Bucky replies, confused. “She shouldn’t be stressed.”

“That’s your fault!” Sam yells.

“I’m protecting her!”

“You’re bubble-wrapping her soul, man.”

Bucky grumbles. “I just… I worry.”

“We know,” Steve says gently. “But you can’t hover her into safety.”

“She’s tough, Buck,” Sam adds. “Let her be.”

There’s silence.

Then, Bucky sighs. “She told you about the shoelaces, didn’t she?”

Steve and Sam answer in perfect unison: “Yes.”

That night, I walk into the living room to find Bucky setting up a foot massage station like I’m royalty.

I raise an eyebrow.

He gives me a sheepish look. “Truce?”

I sit beside him. “Maybe. Are we done banning me from bending over?”

“Yes.”

“And from picking up my own snacks?”

“Yes.”

“And from standing in the kitchen while a microwave runs?”

“That one was one time—”

“Bucky.”

He holds up his hands. “Alright, alright. I’ll dial it down. I just… I don’t want anything to happen to you. Or them.”

I reach for his hand and place it gently over my belly.

“We’re okay,” I say softly. “But I need you to breathe. And maybe… let me pee without an escort.”

He laughs.

“Deal.”

He still carries the laundry sometimes.

But now he lets me do it with him.

And when I tie my own shoes the next morning, he claps.

So… progress.

Masterlist

Request

#husband bucky #bucky x y/n #bucky fluff #domestic!bucky #dad!bucky #steve rogers #sam wilson #pregnant reader #overprotective bucky

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tfgalore · 5 months ago

Text

SwapCorp: Theo

Most people didn’t believe in swaps. Theo was among the many who thought that SwapCorp, a new company claiming to be able to transfer people’s consciousness across bodies, was a complete hoax. But that didn’t stop him from hearing about it daily. Even as he finished up his pull-ups at the gym, the TV that sat in the corner was blaring out some news about it. They were mainly criticisms of the companies shadier transactions and an investigation into where exactly SwapCorp got the young, youthful hunks it seemed to specialise in. There were even reports of criminals using the bodies to get a fresh start.

Theo shrugged it off though. That will never happen to me, he thought to himself, happy to keep pumping iron. Little did Theo know, SwapCorp’s nefarious intentions was going to hit a lot closer to home than he thought.

The hunk had forgotten all about SwapCorp on his walk home. A silent midnight, with nobody around. The perfect spot for a kidnapping. It was faster than Theo could realise. There was rush of footsteps behind him, and a sudden sting in his neck before he could even turn.

“Hey! What the hell?” Theo whipped around to see a thick, burly figure standing in front of him. He couldn’t make out the man’s face though. Like the rest of his world, the man’s face swirled into a mix of colours. The fast acting drugs already coursed through Theo, knocking the jock unconscious within seconds.

“Target acquired. Preparing for transport.” The words echoed through Theo’s head, seconds before he passed out.

The next time Theo awoke, the damage had already been done. His bones ached. His muscles felt pathetically weak. It took all of his strength to even sit up. His palms spread out across the soft sheets he laid in, and that’s when Theo got his first shock. The back of his hands were wrinkled, the skin looked more like aged parchment compared to the usual veiny and toned hands he sported.

“What the-“ Theo croaked on a voice he didn’t recognize. It was grained and higher pitched, nothing like the sultry, treble tone that he’d used to seduce plenty of girls in the past. His first instinct was to shoot out of bed and find out what was going on, yet everything ached again as he tried to move. His knees felt like they were on the verge of giving out.

Theo’s eyes darted across the room, looking for clues. He seemed to be in a bedroom. An old, well furnished room that reminded him of his past childhood home even. Theo’s eyes brushed across the mirror. And then they shot back. Where he expected to see himself in bed, there was a 50 year old male looking back. He wore the same shocked expression Theo was making.

“Who are you?” Theo yelled. The man yelled too. That’s when it hit Theo. The man in the mirror was him! Somehow, he had aged 30+ years. Gone was his youthful and stunning features, worn away by age. He looked too different to be himself though, Theo recognised. He brought trembling hand up to his head. There were signs of balding, his hair was a snow-white instead of his usual coiffed and rugged black.

This has to be a dream! There was no way that could be him! Theo’s mind raced with rationalisations. Maybe he’d worked too hard at the gym and caused himself to pass out. Resulting in this crazy fever dream…

“Ah, good, you’re awake.” The voice snapped Theo out of his stupor. A man in a business suit walked in. And right on his heels, Theo entered next! Or at least, Theo’s body did. It was a mindfuck for the jock to see his own cocky smirk staring back at him. Whoever it was, was wearing a sleeveless tanktop, and was grinning from ear to ear.

“What’s going on here!? Where the fuck am I?!” Theo yelled, which came out in a course and croaky tone. Even his vocal cords sounded aged.

“Mr Stone, please take it easy. You need rest after the procedure, especially in your current state and age.” The man donning the suit put up his hands placatingly.

“I’ll take it easy when you explain what is happening! How am I in someone else’s body! And who’s in mine!?” Theo could feel his breath wheezing. Not only was he old, this body he was in was wildly unfit!

“Your body has been paid for by Mr Woods, here. Thanks to a large donation and help getting the authorities off our back, Mr Woods is currently the sole proprietor of one Theo Stone.” The man explained.

Theo was stunned. Some proprietor!? This wasn’t some piece of estate or a patent they were talking about! This was his damn body! And yet, he wasn’t even in it. The man continued before Theo could speak. “There is no chance for you to bring this up to the cops. After all, who is to believe you when Mr Theo Stone himself will be denying these accusations.” The man gestured to “Theo” who had been quiet until then. “You will be given help adjusting to your new life, and we urge you to accept these changes.”

Theo wanted to scream, kick and punch. But his frail body wouldn’t let him. Instead, he sat in disbelief, watching as his former body, now held by a pervy old man, began to flex. The real Mr Woods seemed perfectly content with his renewed youth. Watching Theo’s muscles ripple and flex in the mirror at his command brought a wide grin to his face.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take great care of this body. Promise.” Woods said with yet another smirk…

————————————————————————

It had been five months since the swap. Mr Woods had grown perfectly accustomed to his new life as Theo. In fact, plenty of people in his life saw the changes. In their eyes, the previously homophobic jock had taken a full 180. From having a different girl in his bed each night, Theo was now hooking up with hunks and twinks left and right. Every gay bar in the city knew his name. “Take it off Theo” they called him, thanks to his proclivity to strip off and flex for fun in the clubs and bars. Of course, the managers never did mind. It was just more good business for them when the hunk pulled in desperate and horny guys.

Even at the gym, Theo got plenty of action. His clothes got tighter and tighter over the weeks, his bubble butt on full display under the 5 inch shorts he’d switched to in place of the usual grey sweatpants he used to wear. Hunks seemed to love it, plenty of them pulling Theo aside in the locker room to give his bubble butt a few swats before giving him a raunchy fuck in the locker room.

Theo loved it all of course. And to make matters worse, he’d dropped out of college. He wasn’t going to waste his second chance at life on something he’d already gone through once before. Instead, the new Theo decided modelling was his calling. After all, with a body like his, recruiters were practically lined up for him.

That was the only morsel of his old life that Theo got. Now left alone in an old age home affiliated with SwapCorp, the real Theo could only watch his old body through the pics and vids posted on his Instagram and his modelling gigs. Each time, he’d sigh as he felt his heart break at what he’d lost. Nobody had listened to his deranged ranting about forcibly being swapped. After all, most people believed it was SwapCorp was a hoax…

#gay #male body swap #gay body swap #body swap #body switch #male transformation

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