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orphicdreamers-wp · 9 months

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All I Want Is You— Jamie Drysdale

Summary: In which your boyfriend is traded to Philadelphia and hurts your relationship and all you want is Jamie back.

Content Warning; Angst, breakup, reader is the lakers athletic trainer, happy ending

Pairing; Fem Reader & Jamie Drysdale

Your relationship with Jamie was new enough that when you found out he got traded from the Ducks to the Flyers you immediately knew that your relationship was over. You had only been together a little short of 4 months. You were restocking your medical supplies when a knock on the door pulled you from your daze. Your boyfriend stood in the doorway with a sad look on his face, “Hi.”

You smiled sadly, “Hey J.” Jamie on one of the exam tables, “You heard.” You ran a hand through your hair, “Yeah, how are you feeling?” Jamie ran a hand over his face, “I’m not sure. I don’t know what it is but I don’t want to go to Philly.” You sighed as you sat down, “I don’t want to hold you back Jamie. I want you to have the best life possible. I don’t think that life has me in it.” Jamie’s eyes softened lightly, “So we’re broken up?” You nodded sadly, “Yeah. I think we are.”

The door to the athletic office opened and Lebron James entered the room, “Hey Y/N. Oh my bad, am I interrupting?” Jamie shook his head, “Nah man, I’m heading out. Bye Y/N.” A sad sigh left your lips, “Bye Jamie. Good luck.” Jamie nodded sadly as he walked out of the room. You sniffled slightly, “I’ll be right with you man.” You walked into your office and let the tears forming in your eyes hit your cheeks. A shaky breath left your lips as you wiped your face and returned to the athletic office, “Alright Lebron, how’s your ankle feeling?”

A worried look overtook his face, “Are you doing okay Y/N?” You nodded softly, “Yeah, I’m okay. Just dealing with a breakup. So how’s your ankle?” Lebron picked up on the fact you didn’t want to talk about it, “It’s okay, just a little sore.” You nodded as you began to work on loosening his muscles in his ankle for his physical therapy.

A few days had passed since you and Jamie broke up, you hadn’t been feeling the best. Jamie had officially moved to Philly and everything in Philly reminded him of you. Philly was cold in January and all Jamie wanted was to be back in California in your arms. So when he learned that the Lakers were traveling to Philly to play the 76ers he knew he had to figure out a way to get you back.

You were standing on the edge of the court taping a players fingers when you heard the announcer’s voice, “And in house tonight we have Philly Flyers players Cam York and Jamie Drysdale.” You felt your heart beat up into your throat as a sad smile overtook your eyes. DLo looked at you and spoke softly, “You gotta get your guy back. It’s getting hard to watch you move Y/N.” You smiled sadly, your smile not reaching your eyes, “I can’t, I don’t want to hold him back.” DLo sighed, “Girl, your a lot of work. I don’t know him that well but I know a guy in love and he hasn’t taken his eyes off of you since he saw you.”

You shook your head ever so slightly, “Doesn’t change the fact I feel like I’m holding him back.” DLo shrugged, “Maybe not. But you miss 100% of the shots you don’t take.” You laughed softly as you patted his shoulder reassuringly, “I’m okay D. You should get out there. Have a good game.”

The game went extremely well for you as none of the Lakers players were injured during the game. You were organizing your stuff in the visiting locker room when the locker room door opened, “Hi.” You felt your heart rate increase, “Hey.” Jamie spoke softly, “I miss you.” You shook your head, “We can’t. I can’t.” Jamie shook his head, “I can’t not want you Y/N. I can’t pretend I don’t miss you and think about you.”

You sniffled, “I love you, this isn’t fair to either of us.” Jamie shook his head, “I love you and I am going to love you no matter how far we are. I won’t care that I wake up in Philadelphia in January in the horrid cold. As long as I get to be with you.” You sniffled, “I won’t care if I’m alone in LA. I just wanna be with you.” Jamie pulled you into a embrace, “I love you.” You looked up at him, “I love you.”

#hockey player x reader #fanfic #hockey #nhl #nhl fanfiction #anaheim ducks #jamie drysdale #jamie drysdale x reader #lakers #basketball #athletic trainer

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romanreignseater · 1 year

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Diced Pineapples

Jey Uso x Black Reader

Rating: 18+

Warning: Smut; pussy eating, fingering, cum eating, and anal play.

“The lyrics speak for itself, this is exactly how Jey Uso feels about his girl in the summertime 😋.”

A/N: Everyone is in their Jey feels, so I had to hop on the bandwagon 🤭. He’s just so sexy, but anyways hope you guys love the story 💕!! (Masterlist up tomorrow).

GIF: @jeysuso

Shorty so fine, pussy so fresh.

Diced pineapples that my baby tastes the best.

I nearly lost my mind, guess it was a test.

Swept her off her feet and went and bought her ass a Lex.

Paid it off cash so I never wrote a check.

Leave my cars at her crib I'm just stuntin' on her ex.

A hot summer day, chilling in the ATL. My handsome baby to my left and a strawberry daiquiri in my right hand.

Even though my babies, the Usos, lost their tag titles earlier in the year. They’re still the greatest tag team ever.

“I needed this sun baby.” You look over to your man admiring his big hazel doe eyes, his stunning dimples, and cheeky smile. “You deserve this sun handsome.”

Blushing like crazy, Jey covers his face. He was never one to take your compliments, always feeling like you were the perfect one in the relationship. Your perfect brown skin and eyes, your curvy body, and gorgeous face. But, you remind him everyday that he’s the most perfect and beautiful man you’ve ever laid eyes on.

“Enough with the compliments, whatchu drinkin’?!” His eyes slightly close due to the beaming sun. “A little strawberry daiquiri. Something to cool me down.” He smiles and lifts off of his chair to place a quick kiss to your lips. “Tastes like strawberries.” “I know.” You languidly lay your tongue out to reach your straw and sip on your drink. His eyes watching you intensely, the sexual tensions already rising…

You rise out of your lounge chair and sway your hips back and forth, as Mr. Main Event watches your ass bounce during every step. You reached the sliding door and enter your shared lavish house.

“Damn… I gotta have that tonight.” Jey clapped and rubbed his hands together.

Pussy's excellent and I know it sound a mess.

I love to make her toes curl as I'm lickin' on her flesh uhh.

Sex all night couple shots of Ciroc.

Crib on the water got LeBron up the block.

Money ain't the thing baby welcome to the Mark.

Diced pineapples talking diamonds by the jar.

A can of Dole diced pineapples exits the fridge and lands on the white marble kitchen counter. You placed your empty glass in the sink and pull out a can opener.

The lid of the can pops and your red stiletto nails clasp onto the juicy, yellow fruit. You moan as you bite into the decadent fruit. The juices fall in betwixt your voluptuous breasts.

Just as you moved to clean the juice from your tits, a hand grabs your wrist firmly.

“Let me get that for you.” Jey turns you to around, so you face him. He dips his head down and slides his tongue across the expanse of your cleavage slowly.

Your head lolled back as you reveled in the feeling of his rigid tongue. Lost in a sensual trance, you were led out of it as Jey’s voice boomed though you.

“Them pineapples taste just like you baby, real sweet… just how I like it.” His lips practically kissing your ear as he whispered into it.

“So, you want a taste or what big boy?!” Your hand wrapped around his chin, admiring his wet pink lips he just licked.

“You already know I do.”

Bitch so bad got me wishing I could sign her.

Uniform Isabel Marant when you on the team.

Double MG them other niggas fell off, baby girl I just wanna see you well off.

Your thighs spread across the counter and your man’s head lodged in between them. Your cunt made lewd noises, as Jey’s tongue glided across your pussy. The pineapples once in the can, jotted atop your sweet cunt.

“Mmmmm, fuckkkk. Lick that pussy daddy, eat it… it’s all yours.” Your voice hoarse as can be, with the way your man was devouring your pussy. His mouth open wide as he smooched your lips. Sliding his tongue crazily back and forth; swirling and curling it around your sensitive clit.

He places large and wet kisses onto your cunt. Strings of your essence pulling from every drag of his lips. Your pussy beating at every kiss, wanting more, but you knew Jey was an impatient man. Closing your thighs shut to stafe off that euphoric feeling, almost reaching your high.

“Hurry up and take your ass to the couch, you got five seconds.” Jumping off the counter and sprinting to the plush white couch in the living room. Knowing how Jey likes you, you begin to arch your back sensually.

You hear Jey let out a “fuckk”, as he admires your pussy spread wide open. He pulls his shorts off and you feel the couch dip behind you.

Feeling frisky, as Jey placed his hands on your hips, you arch your back deeper wanting to feel every stroke he gave you. “You so fucking nasty, you been waiting for this dick.” You looked back at him, ogling his taut brown member standing up at attention. “You gonna fuck me or n—.” Your body flings forward as Jey rams into you. Your hands quickly fall to the throw pillows and you hold onto them with dear life as Jey begins his brutal strokes.

He pounded into your devilishly, destroying your pussy until it reaches its wits end. Your wig twirled into a makeshift ponytail as he hit those long, deep strokes. “OH MY GO—DDD, don’t stop baby, don’t stop.” His sweet ministrations already a lot, but his thumb soon reaches your blushing asshole.

Your back dares to try and release its arch, when Jey pushes it back down. “You wanted to arch your back like crazy, then you gonna take this dick like crazy.” Jey rubs your hole and enters without warning. His finger abuses your hole and his dick stretches your pussy to new heights.

Jey’s grunts turn into softer moans as your pussy squeezes his dick with might and your hole closes around his long finger. “I’m gonna cum.” “Me too baby, wait for me I’m almost there.” You mouth open wide as he mercilessly pounds into your cunt extra hard, not slowing his pace. His finger exits your hole and rubs your sweet clit.

“Let go baby, let go.” Your pussy squelches as you began to squirt all over his thick thighs and all over the couch. Jey’s hips stutter as he releases into your gaping cunt. You both let out a sigh of relief. Jey then flips you onto your back and scoops up his cum flowing out of you.

His two fingers danced underneath the sunlight as he paraded them toward your open lips. You took his cum into your mouth without hesitation. You swallowed his juice and rolled your tongue out to prove you did it.

Smirking with a fond appreciation, Jey’s head lowers once again as he fingers your pussy, so you can push more of your sweet mixed juices out. He dives into your pussy once more and eats the cum that leaves your cunt.

What a nasty man….

THE END!!

MY TAG SQUAD: @cyberdejos2 @thesamoanqueen @alyanarossi @nayys-world @mzv11 @babybatlover @vogueyonce @harmshake

*Sorry for releasing so late, I hope it’ll leave you busy with sweet dreams 😭❤️!!

#jey uso #jey uso wwe #jey uso smut #jey uso x black reader #jey uso fanfiction #jey uso fic

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steveharringtonat3am · 2 years

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Courtside

pairing: nba player!steve harrington x singer!reader

word count: 3.5k

warnings: oral (fem!recieving), penetrative sex

Excitement burns in your stomach as you put the finishing touches on your hair and makeup. You were going to be sitting courtside at the Lakers game, which meant you had to look good.

But you also wanted to look good for another reason.

Steve Harrington had just been traded from the Indiana Pacers to the Los Angeles Lakers. So even though it wasn’t your first time sitting courtside at an NBA game, you had never seen the famed rookie play live.

You had been watching him play since he got drafted by the Pacers in the first round. That had been years ago, and your crush had only grown. He was on this year's All-Star game roster, playing with the likes of Lebron James and Giannis Antetokounmpo. But you were on tour at the time, promoting your latest album, and hadn’t gone.

You scroll through Instagram on the drive to the stadium, liking posts and replying to DM’s. You smile to yourself when you see Steve Harrington’s latest post, in front of the Hollywood sign as he confirmed the trade. He didn’t post much, but when he did he always looked incredible. Squeezing your legs together to quell my desire for this man, you adjust your ridiculously low-cut top as the car parks by the side entrance. Luckily there are no paparazzi and you get in unbothered.

The players haven’t come out yet as you sit in your seat, crossing your legs and making sure to keep a neutral expression as you scroll on your phone. The last thing you wanted was for people to get pictures of you smiling at shirtless pictures of Steve Harrington.

When the Lakers start coming out, you keep a small smile on your face as you clap. But when they announce the number 30, you let yourself smile a little wider. As he runs out, we lock eyes for a brief second and you swear his smile grows.

As the players start to warm up, the commentators announce your presence. It was still a little surreal to see your face all over the jumbotron, but you smile and blow a kiss anyways. At one point, one of the Laker’s balls rolls by your feet and the next thing you know, Steve Harrington is standing in front of you.

He grins at you as he picks it up. His pretty brown eyes never leave yours as he slowly bends to pick the ball up with one very large hand.

“If I knew playing for the Lakers meant you would be sitting courtside, I would have asked for a trade a long time ago.” His voice has this flirty hint to it that makes your grin even wider.

“Well, I had to come to see what all the fuss was about. I hope you don’t disappoint.” You relax back into your seat as he chuckles.

“Trust me, I never disappoint.” He winks before jogging back to his side of the court.

Your heart is racing as you watch him go. If this was a cartoon, you would be fanning your face and hearts would replace my eyes.

Once the game starts, You see something in him switch. He starts doing moves you’ve hardly ever seen while watching basketball. At the end of the second quarter, he’s got 30 points, 5 rebounds, and 3 assists. He’s panting as he collapses into his chair for halftime.

As the opening notes of the first song start to play, you perk up from your Instagram scrolling. You knew those notes. You knew that opening. It was your song.

The sexiest song you had ever written.

It was a spur-of-moment thing, inspired by a fling you had with an actor that ended on relatively well terms. But before we called it off, we shot a rather risque music video to go along with the song. People went crazy when you released it. While you were proud of it, you did not need it playing while sitting across the room from Steve Harrington.

And of course he’s looking at you.

It’s like the whole room goes quiet, and all you can focus on is his piercing gaze. Sweat drips from his hair, chest hair matted down and peaking out from his jersey. He leans back in his seat, thighs looking absolutely delicious in his shorts. The sultry vocals have you thinking absolutely sinful thoughts, and it feels like you’re going to explode.

So you look away.

As the song continues, you can feel Steve's gaze intensifying. You glance back over at him and see that he's biting his lip, his eyes dark with desire. You can't help but feel a rush of excitement at the sight. You know that he's a professional athlete, and that he's used to being in the spotlight, but this feels different. This feels intimate, like you're sharing a secret moment together.

The song ends, and you try to focus on the game, but you can't help but steal glances at Steve. He catches your eye a few times, and each time, you feel a jolt of electricity. You can't believe that you're sitting here, watching Steve Harrington play basketball, and that he's looking at you like this.

The game continues, and Steve continues to play like a man possessed. You watch him move across the court with a grace and power that takes your breath away. You can see the sweat glistening on his skin, and it's all you can do to keep from reaching out and touching him.

As the game draws to a close, the Lakers are up by twenty points. Steve has been the star of the game, racking up an impressive 45 points, 8 rebounds, and 5 assists. You can't help but feel a sense of pride and admiration for him. He's not just a pretty face, he's a talented athlete with a fierce competitive drive.

As the final buzzer sounds, the stadium erupts into cheers. You stand up and clap along with the crowd, your heart racing with excitement. You can't believe that you just witnessed such an incredible game, and that you got to share it with Steve Harrington.

As the players make their way off the court, Steve catches your eye and gives you a wink. You feel a rush of heat spread through your body, and you can't help but smile in response. This turned out even better then you could have possibly imagined.

It feels like it takes forever for you to get home but you finally curl up in bed, pyjamas and skincare on. When you check your phone, your heart nearly drops to your stomach to see a dm from Steve Harrington.

‘Hope I didn’t disappoint ;)’

He was flirting with you.

Now you just have to flirt back.

‘You definitely didn’t. Better win us a ring next :)’ You bite your nail as you stare at the screen, waiting for a text back. Luckily, it comes quickly.

‘That’ll be soon. But I’ve gotta take my lucky charm to dinner first.’

That makes you practically scream into your pillow. He wants to take you dinner! Like a date!

‘Sounds like a good plan. I’ll see you then Harrington’ You really wanna play it cool, and totally not like you’re obsessed with him.

‘I’ll meet you at The Palm, at 7? I’m free tomorrow night’ This feels so surreal you can barely breathe.

‘See you there, Harrington’

You finally turn off your phone, setting it on your nightstand with a huge grin. You were going on a date.

Your closet is huge. It has to be, considering you’re “not allowed” to wear the same thing twice. But in all of it’s entirety, you can’t find a single thing to wear.

“Should I go sexy? Or is that too much?” You press the phone to your shoulder, holding up two dresses to the mirror.

“I think sexy, but not too sexy. Like that red dress you bought a few weeks ago.” Your friend recommends. That makes you drop the two dresses you’re holding, hurrying over to where you last put that.

“Oh! This is perfect! Now…I’m gonna get ready okay? Bye!” You hang up quickly, so excited you can hardly think. You have to be there in two hours so you get some music on, and hop into the shower so you can be ready for anything.

You get your driver to take you to the restaurant, asking him to stay in the area just in case you needed him. You take a deep breath before stepping inside, politely smiling at the hostess who’s jaw nearly hits the floor when she sees you.

“Hi, I’m meeting a friend? The reservation should be under ‘Harrington’?” You overthink the word friend for a second, but it’s a relatively safe choice in case this gets out to the press.

“R-right of course. Mr. Harrington is waiting for you.” She smiles widely, a little too excited but sweet as she shows you to the table where Steve is waiting.

Of course he looks incredible.

He’s wearing a simple red dress shirt, tucked into some black dress pants and rolled up. A gold chain peaks out from where it’s unbuttoned. God this man is going to be the death of me.

“Hey! You look beautiful.” He stands to gently hug you, pulling out your chair for you to sit down.

“Thank you! You look very handsome.” He grins, running a hand through his hair.

“I’m glad you think so. Figured my jersey wasn’t appropriate for a place that serves steak tartare.” He jokes.

“Oh it totally would have been. Wouldn’t draw attention at all.” You wink and you share a laugh. The waiter comes over with the menus, and if he knows who we are, he doesn’t let it show.

“So what are you thinking of ordering?” You ask after we’ve looked through them for a minute.

“Well I’ve heard the lobster risotto is good! How about you?”

“I was actually thinking the same thing. You’ve got good taste Harrington.” You grin and he mirrors it.

“I definitely do.”

Dinner goes by quickly, so quickly you wish for time to slow down just a little bit. Soon enough you’re both finishing up dessert and the waiter is bringing the cheque.

Steve grabs it before you can, shooting you a grin.

“You bought a courtside ticket to watch me play. Let me pay for dinner?” He slips his card in, handing it to the waiter. Once he walks away, there’s a small pause. So you take your chance.

“You know, it’s still early. Would you like to come over? I could give you a tour?” You offer with a small smile, sipping your water to hide your nerves. Luckily, he lights up at the prospect.

“Of your famous mansion? Sounds perfect.” He winks, standing up and reaching a hand out for you.

“I would hardly call it famous.” Even though we both knew it kinda was. You had recently been featured in Architectural Digest and people pretty much went crazy over the pictures.

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.” He leads you to his car, a bright red Porsche with the top down. It makes you laugh and he turns to you with a mock-offended look.

“What? It’s a beautiful car!” He opens the door for you, helping you inside.

“I know it’s just…very rookie of you.” He laughs, shaking his head.

“Can you blame me?” He smirks as you tell him the address.

The drive goes quick, and the conversation flows effortlessly. Steve was just so easy to talk to. As cocky and arrogant as he seemed on the basketball court, it was clearly just a personality for the cameras. That was common in LA, but it was rare to meet someone this genuine in a city full of people ready to stab you in the back for five minutes of fame.

“So this is the famous mansion!” You joke as he pulls into the driveway. It wasn’t a crazy size, but you definitely didn’t need a place this big all to yourself. Hopefully you could share it with someone one day.

And maybe that someone was standing right next to you.

“It’s even cooler in person.” He’s taking everything in as you two step inside.

“I’m glad you think so! Do you want anything to drink?” You lead him into the kitchen, pouring yourself some water.

“Just water is fine, thanks.” He takes the glass you offer, his large hands making the glass seem smaller than normal.

“So do you want that tour now?” You ask, placing your glass in the sink. He does the same, hip gently bumping yours.

“That sounds great.” He follows as you lead him to the other rooms, pointing out small details like the artwork and decor. Soon enough, you’re upstairs and the last room left is your bedroom. Luckily you had the sense to hide the chaos of your getting ready in the closet, which is closed. Your room is clean, and smells of the honeysuckle candle on your nightstand.

“This is where the magic happens!” You joke, stepping inside.

“Magic huh?” You turn to see him a lot closer then before, leaning down a bit.

“Mhm…” You feel myself getting lost in his eyes, leaning into him.

“Good to know.” And then his lips are against yours, hands gently gripping your hips. His hands gently slide up to your face, deepening the kiss even more. You start walking backwards towards your bed. He pulls away for a second to lock eyes with you.

“Do you want to? Cause we don’t have to. I really don’t mind.” He smiles softly and your heart soars.

“I want to. Really.” You step back to lay on the bed and he’s quick to climb on top of you, propping himself up on his forearms.

“You’re so beautiful…” He mumbles, kissing your jaw. You slide your hands into his hair, gripping it as he starts kissing lower and lower. He helps slip your dress off, revealing the matching set of red lingerie you had donned ‘just in case’ tonight.

“This is pretty.” He smirks and you can’t help but smile shyly.

“I picked it out for you.” He hums appreciatively, playing with the strap of the bra. Pressing kisses to your shoulder, he gently peels it off.

“Fuck.” He whispers when the material slips down your arms. You toss it to the side, watching his reaction with bated breath. But when his eyes lock with yours, there’s nothing but adoration in them.

“You’re incredible.” He smiles, continuing his path down your body. You can’t help but feel nervous. I mean, he was clearly experienced. What if he doesn’t think it’s good? What if he’s only using you for sex or publicity?

“Hey, are you okay?” You hadn’t even noticed him settle between your legs, but he sits up to look at you better.

“Yeah I’m fine. Just-just a little nervous I guess.” He smiles, understanding in his eyes, and reaches out to squeeze your hand.

“Don’t worry. I really like you. And I’ll like you the same if we have sex or if we don’t.” That actually calms you down, and you nod.

“Okay. I’m good now.” You confirm and he nods, starting to pull down your underwear. It makes you very aware of how wet you’ve gotten and you can tell from the grin on his face that Steve noticed too.

“Someone’s excited.” He teases.

“Can you blame me? I’ve got Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington in my bed.” You wink and he chuckles.

“And now you’re gonna know what it feels like to have him go down on you.” He smirks before bending down and licking a long stripe up your folds. The feeling makes you squirm with pleasure and you tangle your hands in his hair. He gently sucks on your clit and your whole body jerks.

Of course he knows where it is.

Steve gently slides a finger inside, pumping it slowly. You moan quietly and it seems to motivate him to get you louder. He starts going faster, circling your clit with his tongue.

“Oh! R-right there!” You grip his hair tighter and he groans into you. You can feel the knot in your stomach building, pulling him even closer by his soft brown locks.

“Go ahead sweetheart.” He mumbles, slipping another finger inside. That’s what sends you over, moaning louder as you cum hard.

“Steve!” You cry out as he works you through it. When you finally relax, he sits up with a grin.

“That was so hot.” He kisses you deeply and you can taste yourself on his tongue. He pulls you impossibly close and you take your chance to flip him, straddling his waist. He breaks the kiss to smile up at you.

“What is this?” He smiles, hands resting on your hips. He looks so handsome laid out in your bed and it sends your heart through the roof.

“I wanna make you feel good now.” You start to unbutton his shirt and he sits up a bit to help you get it off.

“How about you ride me and we both feel good?” He offers as he undoes his belt. I realize with wide eyes that he’s very hard. And he looks very big.

“Y-yeah that sounds good.” You help him shimmy his pants down and your mouth practically waters at the sight of his cock. It looks the perfect size, so thick and pretty.

“You okay?” He asks, but I can see a hint of a smirk on his face.

“Very okay.” You stroke his cock gently and it makes him suck a breath in. You sit up to position his cock at your entrance, slowly sinking down. You both moan loudly, your nails digging into his biceps.

“Being so good.” He sits up to kiss you, pulling you down to lay on his chest. He plants his feet and starts fucking into you. Pleasure immediately overtakes you and you have to break the kiss to moan loudly.

“D-don’t stop!” You whine as he keeps going. He softly kisses the shell of your ear, mumbling praises as he slows down just a bit. His cock feels so deep, hitting every spot inside you.

You can feel yourself getting close again but you try desperately to hold off, to make this last just a little bit longer. You don’t want tonight to end.

“S-shit babe I’m close. Where-?” He can barely get the question out through sounds of pleasure.

“Inside!” You gasp, eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head. He doesn’t press the subject, and the second you cum, it sends him over. Warmth spreads through your lower body, limbs feeling like jello.

You both just lay there for a second, panting loudly. Eventually, you slip off of his chest and he sits up.

“Bathroom?” He asks, having caught his breath quicker than you. You point to the door on the other side of the room and he climbs out of bed. As you calm down, you start to feel a little sad. He was probably going to leave now. He’d go and you’d be alone and he might never talk to you again. Maybe sleeping together on the first date wasn’t such a good idea.

Before you can get too into your head, he comes back with a towel. You can’t even ask what he’s doing before he’s gently swiping in between your legs.

“Sorry.” He mumbles shyly when your hips jerk. He drops the towel to the ground and hesitates for a second.

“Do you want me to go?” He asks and you frown.

“N-not really. Unless you want to?” He shakes his head, climbing into the bed.

“I don’t want to. I never want this night to end.” He lays back and turns to face you. He looks so pretty like this, and so carefree.

“Me neither. You know…I’m free tomorrow morning. And I make mean blueberry pancakes.” You grin and he chuckles, arms wrapping around you and pulling you close.

“I’m holding you to that.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington smut #stranger things #stranger things smut

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ccfever · 2 months

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thinking about how pete maravich’s coach was his dad and according to the voices in my head (i read it somewhere and forgot where) the team ran the offense mostly through him, and that’s why he got the record and got insane usage. doesn’t mean he’s a bum but the team never won anything with the system running through him like that.

cc reached 3,668 points on 2,582 FG attempts.

pete maravich reached 3,667 points on 3,166 FG attempts.

makes sense because of the 3PTer and shot clock, but what’s more impressive to me is the fact that caitlin reached those numbers while being on a winning team. back to back national championship appearances, 3-time conference champions.

the difference imo is encapsulated in the fact that caitlin lead the country in points and assists. she just impacted the team in a way that lead to wins. a literal one woman offense.

her greatness doesn’t just elevate herself. it elevates the team. lebron esque.

i feel like people understate that part of her identity. nowadays she’s reduced to being a “good passer” but she’s averaging nearly 20 PPG with a broken shot. what’s gonna happen when her threes start falling?

all i’m saying is no one’s ready bro. she’s been playing bully ball lately too. when she gets a middy it’s so fucking over it’s not even funny lmfao

plus she’s a good team defender, comes with the IQ. she should be the worst defender on the team if you want to contend for a championship tbh. PGs are never meant to be defensive stoppers. but caitlin has more blocks than players like jackie young or dijonai carrington. so she’s not a net negative defender. not the best 1 on 1 defender for sure, but the coach should scheme to hide caitlin on that side of the ball.

i’m just growing tired of people not understanding the magnitude of her talent man like the haters are doing such a good job of downplaying who she is and what she can do as a player

#caitlin clark #cclark

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transjinako · 4 months

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Ruby Rose voice: this is where my mom died Lebron James

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liz-allyn · 1 year

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sugar and vice - epilogue

[continued from Part 23]

FOUR MONTHS LATER

Ice clinked against the stainless steel of her coffee tumbler like hollow wind chimes. She brought the pastel pink container to her lips, taking a careful sip. She’d already spilled some of it in her lap, and now brown spots dotted the yellow of her dress. Carefully, she set the tumbler down beside her, taking a moment to glance up at the scenery around her.

It was a golden-yellow summer day with a cloudless sky, save for the smog hanging over the city. Despite last week’s heat wave, the temperature was more moderate today, giving New York a much-needed break. From a bench in Central Park, she sat beneath the canopy of towering oak trees. A breeze rolled through that chilled her skin delightfully, aided by the icy beverage in her cup.

Nearby, a flock of pigeons scavenged for crumbs. On this particular Saturday, construction sounds were minor, reduced to distant echoes. The bright sounds of a street musician’s violin floated on the wind from nearby in the park. She heard a whistle from a group of children in the distance as they practiced soccer kicks.

Soccer would be good for Bella, she thought. The seven-year-old girl had tons of energy and legs that were longer than she knew what to do with. Ever since the Olympics and watching Space Jam: A New Legacy, Bella had been obsessed with becoming the next WNBA champion. She described LeBron’s performance as a masterpiece.

Her aunt knew better than to let her personal opinion spoil the girl’s fun.

That had been a good day. Today was a good day. She mused to herself as she took a breath. She was aware of the fact that the day wasn’t technically over. And perhaps there wasn’t anything particularly different from yesterday. But as her muscles relaxed beneath warm rays of sun on her shoulders, she found peace.

“Mind if I sit here?” a kind voice said from behind her. The muscles in her neck pulled taut. Her heart seized up and tripped over itself.

She glanced over her shoulder to find a pair of doe eyes fixed on her. Cherry lips twisted into a lopsided smile.

Impossibly, Peter Parker looked younger than the last time she saw him. The only sign of age in his creamy smooth skin were tiny lines at the corners of his eyes, and a faint pink scar blending with the wrinkles above his brow.

Without the beard, he looked criminally soft. Big, bright amber eyes were fixated on her in a way that made her heart want to burst. She felt like she was floating in space and plummeting through the atmosphere.

At the same time, the primal part of her brain screamed out shrill sirens. Just the sight of him and his soulful eyes felt like she was tearing off a broken limb. Watching as his teeth pinched his pouty lip gave her the sensation of ripping apart nerve endings. Her stomach soured as her heart ached.

Beneath the heart, lava boiled in her belly. Her eyes were open wide, they could even be mistaken for shock. It wasn’t shock, however, but sheer rage burned in her eyes.

Peter Parker, the persistent paradox.

The only man that could stir every emotion in her, like the sun conjures every color of the rainbow out of drops of rain. He painted her world in vivid colors, and yet she was colorblind to everything but the golden hue of his eyes.

Peter Parker, who could make her feel stronger and weaker all at once.

She burned for him, in every sense of the phrase.

And at the present, he was holding his breath, waiting for her reply. She gazed up at him as emotions warred within her. He waited patiently, ready to accept whatever fate she thought he deserved.

She pursed both her lips tight, eyes narrowing. “I’ll allow it,” she said.

His lungs came to life once again, as if he’d been spared the guillotine. Gently, Peter rounded the park bench and sat down in the spot to her right. She kept her nose forward, eyes focused on anything but him.

“Whatcha reading?” he asked gently, gazing down at the pamphlet in her lap.

She bit her lip, hesitating for a moment. “A brochure.”

He observed the glossy tri-fold sheet with a nod. “I see that.” Instantly, he recognized the pictures and logo on the pamphlet, recalling how he once read the same words. “ESU, huh?” he noted with a half smirk, observing the ivory towers of the campus nestled in Midtown Manhattan. “Thinkin’ about classes?” He bit his lip anxiously. “What d’you wanna study?”

She held still, remaining silent as she stared down at the brochure. She wouldn’t meet his gaze, and it felt like razors being shoved into his eye sockets.

“Dunno,” she answered with a gentle shrug. “Interior Design, maybe.” She cleared her throat and spoke with a little more volume. “Thinkin’ about applying for a grant for this fall.”

A smile warmed his eyes, though melancholy weighed down the corners of his lips. “What’s in the cup?” he asked, pointing his nose towards her coffee tumbler.

Lashes fluttered, she followed the end of his fingertip down to her beverage, almost having forgotten that it was there. “Oh,” she said meekly. “It’s a Mauna Kea.”

Peter quirked up a brow. “A what-ya-saya?”

She pinched her lower lip between her teeth to keep it from curving. “Mauna Kea,” she repeated slowly, enunciating the syllables. “Means ‘White Mountain’ in Hawaiian.” She hesitated for a moment, licking her dry lips. “It’s the name of the tallest mountain on Earth,” she declared, mustering confidence, “from peak to summit.”

A crease formed in Peter’s brow. “I thought Everest was the tallest mountain?”

“Tallest by altitude,” she divulged with pride. “Mauna Kea is bigger.” She flicked her eyes over to his and was immediately captured by his soulful gaze.

“No joke?” he replied with a thousand-watt smile and rosy cheeks.

“Yup,” he answered, as butterflies filled her belly.

He gazed at her as if he were witnessing the sunrise for the first time. “So, you’re drinkin’ a ‘White Mountain?’”

Her heart skipped a beat. “It’s a cold brew. Blended with honey, macadamia milk and ice, topped with coconut milk foam.” She intended to look down at her cup. Or at the pedestrians. Or the trees. Or the sun. She intended to look anywhere but at him. She really tried. “I made it myself,” she said, feeling heat crawl up her neck.

His eyes glowed, further enamored by her mere existence. “Wow. All this time, all I’ve been drinking is black coffee.” A smile glinted in his expression while his blush gave him away. “Just black coffee. Bitter. With extra sadness.”

She fought the smile her lips formed. “That’s a shame.”

“It is. People tell me I should take more risks, though. Go out on a limb.” His eyes wandered across the park before shifting back over to her. “I’m Peter, by the way. Peter Parker.” He chewed on his lower lip for a moment, and in his eyes she could spot his trepidation. If he looked young to her before, now he looked like a blushing boy asking his crush to prom. He gazed at her with the same terror, his heart in his throat and on his sleeve. “What’s your name?”

A fire burned bittersweetly in her heart as tears burned behind her eyes. She gazed at him, feeling her emotions swell. “Mari,” she answered, truthfully. She studied the bourbon and topaz facets of his irises and the lovely curve of his cupid’s bow. “But all my friends call me ‘Honey.’”

Peter’s lip trembled at that, eyes glistening despite his attempt to control it. “Honey,” he repeated with a murmur, as if chanting a prayer, or a protection spell. As if it was the answer to everything in the universe. In his universe, at least. “It suits you.”

A bittersweet smile warmed his features as he gazed at her, lost in the universe and freefalling towards her singularity. Her eyes went glossy as she mapped the pores, freckles, and scars on his face like the constellations in the sky.

“I missed you,” he said, endearingly.

Her heart throbbed at the pain in his voice. “I know.” She licked her lips, sadness filling her expression. “You hurt me,” she said somberly.

With misty, red eyes, he whispered back, “I know.” He swallowed hard, tears swimming in his gaze. “I’m sorry for that. M’sorry for a lot of things. But I don’t regret a single moment.”

Eyes glistening, a warm smile overtook her features, lighting up her gaze. She nodded in silent reply.

The sight of it made him want to die of joy. “If it doesn’t sound too forward,” he began gently, speaking with measured formality, “I was gonna ask you to come home with me.”

Home, he said. The significance of the word wasn’t lost on her. A tear rolled down her cheek, sliding along the curve of her grin. “Already?” she breathed out a laugh. “Geez. That was fast.”

His smile faded; he melted into enraptured awe. “No,” he whispered, eyes glowing with admiration. He leaned forward, breaking the invisible barriers between them. Her eyes fluttered shut as his calloused fingers brushed over her jaw, triggering a shiver down her spine. “I’ve waited years for you, remember?” he quietly rumbled. “I’ll keep waiting. For the rest of my life, if I have to.”

The sweetness of it all made her dizzy. It made her feel like her heart had spilled open and she would bleed out on the grass. “I’ll take it,” she sniffed, as Peter thumbed the tears from her cheeks.

“Take what?”

“The rest of your life.”

He melted in her gaze, staring down at her lips. “Sweet girl. You are my life.”

Without hesitation, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. The sensation made her heart flutter, her mind soar, and her brain sizzle. It made her wounds heal and her soul sing. It made life worth living. It made hope real.

When they parted from the kiss, they were breathless and dizzy, hearts thrumming together in sync.

The honey hues of his chestnut eyes were fixed on hers. “So,” he said, thoughtfully. “Mauna Kea. Ever see it up close?”

She smirked. “Nope. Never been to Hawai’i.”

“Me neither,” Peter shrugged, his eyes alight with life. “Wanna change that?”

End of Volume 1

A Note From Your Storyteller:

Whew. That was long.

I can't believe this has come to an end. Before I began writing, I was skeptical about this story, but honestly I could've never anticipated or expected the overwhelming support and love that I've gotten. People have made art from my art. They have showered me with gifts for my gift. If you'd say any gift is an expression of love, then gifted art is the ultimate expression of devotion. I love that you care about my characters, and about me!

What's next?

Good question. I've been at odds with this answer, and now it feels like I really need to commit to a path. My imagination is full of many more places that Honey and Peter can go. I could probably write 2-3 novels about these two with all of the effort I put into making these characters come to life. Realistically, I'm a mom with a baby, and I'm about to be a one-person band for the next few months. I'm excited to share these stories, but I'm not sure when or how, or even what that will look like.

The best thing you can do to interact with me is to keep your eyes on my updates from my Ko-fi page! I'm hoping to allow that to become a place where the S&V 'fandom' (wtf that sounds so weird what happened what is this life I am not worthy) can gather and where I can share updates.

In addition to S&V-related news, I'm going to post writing tips, best storytelling practices, AMAs, my favorite fics of the week, answer questions, and maybe even offer commissions. Keep in mind, none of this will be gatekeeped (gate-kept?) or behind a paywall. Even if you're not a regular... er, um, patron?... (barista?) on Ko-fi, you can still hopefully find some interesting stuff to check out.

But even if you don't do any of that, because... who cares, right? I do want you to do one thing for me. One tiny thing that will make the world better. One small thing that could end up changing someone's life.

The next fanfic you read, if you feel any emotions about it at all, please hit "reblog."

You don't have to write a long review, or leave a comment, or add any tags to it. You don't have to do anything more than click the reblog button. But please reblog. When you reblog, you get to share the gift fanfic writers make with someone else, regardless of whether you know them. And subconsciously, you tell the writer 'yes, I see you, and I think other people should, too,' and that small thing can save someone's life one day.

Forget engagement, forget likes vs comments vs reblogs vs community labels vs filtering settings—

Stories are gifts. They are expressions of love put to words. They are emotions lived, repackaged, wrapped in a bow, and then shared with others, along with a kind little note that says 'here's this moment of my heart, I hope it moves you the way it moved me.'

Reblog. And fill the world with a little more love.

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