#posting this now for good vibes for tonights game | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

marlenesluv · 2 months

Text

Hotty Toddy. (OP)

request: “as an ole miss fan the gators cheerleader also hurt my heart, but it was so cute. could you do like logan sargeants lil sister (@carolinewalkerrr fc pls) who is an ole miss cheerleader x oscar piastri”

note: sorry this took sooo long. but i stuck with the og nostalgic layout here since it was already started lol. i made reader 21 in this since oscar's 23!

pairing: oscar piastri x sargeantsis!reader!olemisscheerleader

fc: caroline walker (carolinerwalkerrr on insta)

warnings: none! just cute fluff

masterlist here -> masterlist link

^ check my list for all posts! ^

liked by: oscarpiastri, logansargeant, and 25,014 others

y/n.sargeant: just an ole miss cheerleader with her mclaren bf, what else? ❤️🧡

view comments…

sergeantsibsfp: nothing just a healthy couple whom i envy 🥲

user6: the way he hard launched them a few weeks ago and i already know that they are each others endgame fr

oscarpiastri: she’s also a mclaren cheerleader ;)

↳ y/n.sargeant: obviously <3

olemissedits: our favorite couple 🥹

user4: adborableeee omg

yourbsf: cheer mom and driver dad

↳ oscarpiastri: clingy child

↳ y/n.sargeant: LMAO

↳ yourbsf: yeah but you guys love taking me to din din

logansargeant: your welcome for taking the first pic btw

↳ y/n.sargeant; oh. yeah. thanks!

f1wags: so prettyy. you guys are adorable

_______________________________________________

liked by: y/n.sargeant, landonorris, and 206,024 others

oscarpiastri: las vegas gp race weekends with my <3

view comments…

y/n.sargeant: ya ya ya <3

↳ user7: i think she means "ra ra ra" guys🤗

logansargeant: excuse me? come support me this weekend in our literal country?? im offended.

↳ y/n.sargeant: of course, i'll come support you (alex)

↳ alex_albon: :)))

↳ logansargeant: wtf?????

↳ oscarpiastri: take your eagle elsewhere

↳ logansargeant: rethink that. whose sister are you dating?

↳ oscarpiastri: .....sorry🙃

user9: y/n cheering on oscar and logan has to be like, a full time job

yourbsf: MA'AM??? i need water cause i can't breath!!!

↳ y/n.sargeant: i fear you mean cpr, not water?

↳ yourbsf: this is why i'm a cheerleader and not premed 😬

f1wags: yeah, she's a cheerleader, but she's also our beauty queen fr🌹

_______________________________________________

liked by: oscarpiastri, yourbsf, and 28,032 others

y/n.sargeant: me and my love in vegas

view comments...

oscarpiastri: i love you babe

↳ y/n.sargeant: i love youuuuu

↳ logansargeant: are we throwing that word around now??

user1: shes stunning and hes...there?

↳ user8: plssssss foullll

olemiss9fp: our fav girl is just doing hot gal shit in vegas 💅

yourbsf: ughhhh come home the kids miss you (me, im the kids)

↳ y/n.sargeant: we'll bring you next time <3

↳ oscarpiastri: she's lying, we will not bring you

↳ yourbsf: :(

f1wags: our girl can dresssss👏🖤

user5: they give me golden red bf and husky gf vibes

↳ user3: nooo cuz i agree so much

_______________________________________________

liked by: y/n.sargeant, landonorris, and 231,855 others

oscarpiastri: back in mississippi to cheer my girl on💙❤️

view comments...

user5: just so everyone knows, lando, daniel, charles, max, carlos, and logan were seen with oscar and y/n today in mississippi before the game...

↳ user7: sooo, they're gonna be at the game tonight?

↳ user5: i think so? that's what i'm assuming

y/n.sargeant: hotty toddy ;)

↳ olemisscheer: hotty toddy!!!!!!

logansargeant: thank god we're back in the usa

↳ landonorris: yeah, now you can let your eagle wings spread and soar, logan

↳ danielricciardo: as an honorary american, it feels good to be home 🦅

↳ logansargeant: uhhuh

sargeantsibs2edits: can't wait for more sargeant sibling content while they're home

yourbsf: my girl's home :')

*liked by y/n.sargeant*

f1wags: y/n looks so adorable in her outfit🥹

user3: when they go to each others games and support each other >

piastri9fp: oscar's a natural on the bike fr

_______________________________________________

twitter:

Driver Updates @offthefridupdates • 3hr ago

Update: Oscar Piastri and girlfriend Y/n Sargeant were spotted leaving his private jet with Lando Norris and Logan Sargeant in tow. A few hours later, Daniel Ricciardo, Max Verstappen, Charles Leclerc, and Carlos Sainz were seen leaving Max's private jet and meeting up with the other four.

The eight have since been spotted getting lunch and Y/n showing them around The University of Mississippi, aka Ole Miss, where she goes to school where she cheers and is in the premed program.

Then, at tonight's game, Oscar is supporting his girlfriend with her brother and the other drivers previously mentioned.

Hotty Toddy, Y/n!!!!!

Sara @sarraluvsf1 • 2hr ago

Y/n is literally my idol. She's the best cheerleader, amazing premed student, focused, beautiful, she's dating her brother's best friend like girl...i want to be youuuuu

Michael @mikestalks7 • 2hr ago

I started watching F1 for the sport, but now I just love to see Y/n thriving in cheer. When is she gonna get her own show? @Netflix

Riley @f1loverrrr • 1hr ago

Not you tagging Netflix (but I agree pls give us more Sargeant Sibling content)

_______________________________________________

liked by: oscarpiastri, landonorris, and 47,129 others

tagged: yourbsf, oscarpiastri, danielricciardo, logansargeant, landonorris, charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, and maxverstappen1

y/n.sargeant: reunited with my girl + a cute pic of oscar i took :)

view comments...

yourbsf: i missed you <3

↳ y/n.sargeant: i missed you too <3

user2: no cause they are THE iconic duo 👏

landonorris: where did all the group photos we took go???

↳ y/n.sargeant: well, they were all taken after i had sweat so bad that my hair was a mess and i looked like death so those will never see the light of day!!

↳ landonorris: 🙄🙄🙄

f1wags: she is beauty, she is grace, she is mother

user7: her insta pics never miss🫡

danielricciardo: this is when i wished you cheered for the longhorns tbh🤷‍♂️

↳ y/n.sargeant: i never want to speak to you again. out

↳ danielricciardo: jk!! HAHA so funny!!😁😁😁

↳ y/n.sargeant: ....mhmm👀

piastriedit81: i need to edit y/n she's so prettyyyy

charles_leclerc: thank you for having us. we had so much fun 🙃

↳ carlossainz55: trying to act all professional when he started crying when y/n fell during warmups

↳ charles_leclerc: I THOUGHT SHE HURT HERSELF

↳ oscarpiastri: she's tough, she can take a little fall❤️

↳ y/n.sargeant: ❤️😊

↳ maxverstappen1: she can, but charles can't

user4: the banter in this comment section has me rollingggg

_______________________________________________

(reposts, comments, and likes are appreciated!^-^)

414 notes · View notes

yung-notorious · 21 days

Text

I LOVE THE KINKS, B*TCH, PANTIES TO THE SIDE, BAE! I GOTTA SNEAK 'CAUSE YOUR B*TCHES DO NOT LIKE ME!— ♡

— your roommates are gone for the next couple of hours, and you're in the mood for some company...served with a side of tongue of course. you ain't asking for too much. — feat. satoru gojo

+18 MDI. WARNINGS. baddie!reader x college!gojo, excerpt from never lose me chapter 7, porn with plot, situationship, late-night sneaky links, pillow talk, risky unprotected sex, dirty talk & body worship, light spit & cum play, squirting, missionary & backshots, fingering & p*ssy eating, cunnilingus, voice kink, breeding kink, exhibition kink, almost creampie, gojo’s character may be questionable but his stroke game is A1. notes. word count 6k, apart of a larger body of work but can stand alone as a one-shot. you can read the full chapter here: A03 & master post. title: baby keem - pink panties

There’s just something about getting those “I’m outside” texts that makes your heart race and your tummy tingle just enough to have you rushing downstairs with some pep in your step. You thought answering the door wearing tight little Nike Pro shorts would shake him up, but seeing him walk up the front porch steps wearing something as simple as a black slim fit tee is doing you in way worse.

Wherever he just came from looking this fine, he couldn’t have been up to any good, but fuck it— y’all can get into that later. All that matters now is that he’s here and you’re minutes away from riding him like the little red polo player on his shirt.

“You took forever~” You say playfully, arms slinging around his neck as he pulls you into a tight hug, his hands coming down to gently hold you at the waist. Maybe you’re too down bad to think straight, but at this moment you truly believe nothing will ever come close to the affect his sweet touches have on you and when he holds you closer, it’s almost like melting into his arms.

“I got here in an hour like I said.” He lets you go with a kiss to your cheek, then you’re taking his hand into yours just like before, leading him up the steps to the second floor your apartment unit is on.

“Come on, come on!” His hands come to lift your butt as you climb the stairs in an attempt to push you up the steps further.

“Stop, before I trip!” You snap, but it comes out as more of a hushed whisper, trying to keep your voice down out of respect for your neighbors.

“You’re not gonna trip, come on you’re moving too slow!” He says, giving your butt a few playful taps that have a bit of impact behind them that have you giggling and picking up your pace. He should have just carried you up the stairs if he wanted to get you in the bed faster.

“Where’d you park?” You ask, unlocking your door, making room for the both of you to step inside.

“Like around the corner, there weren't any spots why?”

“No reason.” You say all cherry to keep things low-key. You might have failed to mention to him that having him here tonight is a bit problematic. You know for a fact the girls will throw a fit if they found out you skipped dinner to sneak him in.

“I’ll take your shoes— put them in my room.” You pick them up; they're New Balances, and you don’t even want to try to guess what size they are. You don’t know when the girls will be back, so you’ll have to hide them with you.

Following you down the hall to your room, you lock the door behind you. You’re doing it right this time by having the vibes set before he came through. The lighting is dim and you have your oil diffuser going with music playing off your TV. Unsure of what to throw on you chose the first ‘Calm Night’ playlist that came up on Youtube. Young Nudy’s ‘Passion Fruit’ is playing low…which is a choice…but the beat is hot enough for you to freak too so it’ll do.

“Where’s your roommates?” He sits at the edge of your bed, pulling you in by the waist to stand between his legs, your hands coming down to rest on his shoulders as you look down on him.

“Out eating— Ow stop! I’m ticklish.” His hands come up to rub circles around your lower abdomen.

“Where at, how come you ain’t go?” He lifts you up to take you in his lap, shifting up your bed as he does so, laying back on your pillows— your stuffed animals already tossed to a corner of your room.

“At some Italian place down the street, and because I was tired. Didn’t feel like going out tonight. I already told you this.” You shift to sit more comfortably. “And why are your pants still on?” You move to tug at the waistband of his sweats but he stops you before you can do so, collecting your hands in his then letting them go.

“Uh-uh, just wait. I wanna talk to you first— I missed you. How your day been, what you been up to?”

“Mmm…I slept most of the day. I was doing homework with my friend when you texted me—” You slide down his body to rest your head on his chest, and he shifts with you, wrapping you in his arms. You’re close enough to hear his heartbeat, his chin resting gently on your head as he holds you.

“You were on campus?”

“No, we did it together over Facetime. She lives in your dorm actually, that’s who I was with yesterday.”

“Do I know her, what’s her name?”

“You don’t know her— and I’m not giving you her name!" You laugh.

“Why? You tryna have spies on me?”

“Yeah, can’t have you know who I got spying on you— Ow! Stop it!” You yelp, feeling him playfully pinch at your side. It doesn’t actually hurt, but it catches you off guard since you’re ticklish there.

“What do you need spies for? You think I’m sneaky?”

“Anyways!” You draw out, dodging the question in an effort to keep the peace.

“After that, I helped Utahime and Shoko get ready for this girl we’re friend’s with birthday dinner.”

“Oh so you ain’t get invited? That’s why you stayed in?”

“Tsch, No! I stayed back because I found out at the last minute that it was tonight. By that time I didn’t feel like getting dressed to go.”

“You probably should have gone, she invited you because she wants you to be there.”

“I mean yeah— but she’s more Utahime’s friend, not mine. She’ll be alright.”

“I don’t know…” He chuckles, “You know how girls get when it comes to their birthdays. She might stop fucking with you and never talk to you again.”

“Tsch, oh my god it’s not that deep.” You roll your eyes at the dramatics. That girl will be okay!

“Utahime and I got into a whole argument about it too. She tried to call me selfish. You think that’s selfish?” You lift your head to look at him, seeking his opinion. “All because I didn’t wanna go to dinner?”

“Wasn’t just a dinner, it was a birthday dinner. And that isn’t selfish— if you didn’t want to go then you didn’t want to go. Don’t stress about it anymore, it's over with. You can’t do anything about it now.”

“It’s not always good to be everywhere all the time. I’ll come out once in a blue but I’m inside a lot, my friends know me for that but it’s all cool.” He adds on.

Aww, see, this is why you like him! If a man can’t take your side even when you’re slightly in the wrong then y’all shouldn’t be fucking!

“They know I’m here?” He asks, his tone sounding as if he’s caught on to the reason behind your actions back at the front door when he had first walked in.

“Maybe…” You admit, halfheartedly already caught in your lil scheme.

“No way you got me in here after getting into a fight with your roommates. Let me leave now before they get back, you’re setting me up.” He laughs and starts to lift you off him to make his exit, but you use your weight to try and keep him down.

“Aht! No! Lay down!”

“I’m playing, I’m playing.” He lets you go, arms tightening back around you smoothening you into his chest then letting you go.

“And we didn’t fight, we just exchanged a couple cuss words. We’re all good.” You shift onto your side, settling into his embrace with his right hand resting on your shoulder.

“Uh-oh, I know how your mouth gets, I even get a little scared of you when you’re mad.”

“Shut up—”

“Auhp! See, there it goes.” He laughs, cutting you off.

“I swear I’m a nice girl, y’all just make me mad sometimes. Pushing my buttons.”

“Who’s y’all? I already know you’re an angel, you don’t have to keep proving it to me.”

“So what were you doing that took so long, said you were with your friends?” You ask, trying to take the subject off of you.

“Uhhh— we got together in one of my mans dorm. Had a conversation, all of us were just chilling.”

“And that took you an hour?” You ask, genuinely curious.

“They talk a lot.” He says with a snarky laugh.

“Saying what?” You push further. Y’all fuck for real now so you want to know all the tea— where he’s going, coming from, and who he’s been with. It ain’t controlling either, it’s overseeing.

“Nothing too serious– just a lot of weird shit going on. Nothing for you to worry about though...kid shit.”

“And you had to put on cologne for that?” You question, nipping playfully at his shirt. You’re not entirely buying his story, and you’re also not trying to accuse him of lying, but you can tell he’s leaving out details that are probably going to catch him up on whatever’s actually going on. It’s cool though, you’re going to find out eventually. Trust.

“Baby this a fresh polo tee, came right out of the pack today. I ain’t put on cologne.” He says smoothly.

“So you just always smell this good, naturally?” You continue teasing. It’s a silly question, but you’re not backing down from this little debate— or whatever it is.

“Yeah, probably? But I also wash up.” He says with a tone that makes it sound like the most obvious thing in the world, and it has you cracking up.

“And when are you gonna repost my story? It only has a few hours left, I’m tryna get more views on it.” He says bringing you closer, turning the topic back on to you.

“What yo!?” You suck your teeth. Out of all the things to talk about, he’s bringing that shit up, and now. Stopping to take in the sound of what’s playing in the background, you see that it’s Tinashe’s newer track ‘Uh-Huh’. You should have picked the music yourself tonight, because you surely would have liked getting crushed to her album ‘Nightride’.

“What, you ain’t fuck with my post?” He teases.

“You know I ain’t like it, stop playing— and what do you know about some Nardo Wick!?”

“You were turning up to Sexyy Red at the bar, I had a feeling you’d know that song.”

“Mhm…sure.”

“You still want me to delete it?”

“It’s the end of the day, you might as well leave it up. Don’t know why you thought it was cute to embarrass me like that...” You’re over it, seriously you are. But that doesn’t mean you can’t continue pressing him about it.

“I ain’t embarrass you. You started it, I ended it for you. Told you I was going to get your goofy ass back.” He pokes your cheek and you swat back at his finger.

“Look—” He shifts to pull his phone out of his pants pocket. Like India at Durk, you’re looking all at his phone screen as he opens up Instagram. “You got all these likes and heart eyes. I got a bunch of DMs from people I know saying I’m capping and that I ain’t pull you.” He taps on his story to show you the reactions on the post you’re tagged in, then scrolling through his DMs quickly. “Look at this one, this my bro from back home. He’s laughing at me, saying you ain’t my girl.”

“See, he can even tell you’re a fan.”

“Fuck them, I don’t care. I’m your biggest fan, and I’m back in your bed. Now what?” He locks his phone and sets it face down on your nightstand— the tell-tale sign of a sneaky hoe.

“Tsch— ughh!” You roll your eyes at the irony of his words though you walked right into that one.

“When are you gonna stop playing hard to get?”

“How am I playing hard to get?” You tease, firing back with the same playfulness he uses on you.

“Oh, so I got you then?”

“I ain’t say that.” You say smart with a little bit of sass mixed in.

“Damn, so you're still treating me like a hoe? You just called me here for some dick and to rub on your booty, didn’t you?” His hand comes down to squeeze your butt, making you smile.

“Aww see, you know me so well!” You say sarcastically.

“Uh-uh, I’m tryna get to know you more.” He says, shifting to hover over you. He plants his hands on either side of your head to support himself, looking down at you. “What you do on the weekends, what you’re into, what makes you laugh, smile. I wanna know all that.” You can feel the heat that’s long started to burn in your stomach rise to your cheeks.

“Mmmm, see there you go again blushing. Don’t try to hide it.”

“You talk too much.” You clap back. What more could you say or do, deny the truth?

“And I can keep talking too— help me take these off you.” He says softly, tugging at the waistband of your shorts. Your que to lift your lower half up for him to pull them down. You’re left in your pink thong once they’re off, the cloth at the middle damp and wedged in between the folds of your pussy. His hand comes down to teasingly stroke at your heat, a ticklish feeling that has you instinctively widening your legs. He might think all his sweet talking softened you up, but the truth is that he had you growing wet the moment you answered the door and his big hands held your waist.

“What time are your roommates coming back?”

“Not sure…they won’t know you’re here. What you scared?” You bite your lip, looking up at him with teasing eyes.

“Not scared of them— just gotta be quiet when they get back.” He grabs at your body tightly, large hands spanning over your hips and thighs. “Turn the music off, gotta listen out for the door.” He says, and you’re reaching for the remote you stuck behind your pillow to turn the TV off entirely.

“Leave them on for a second.” He says, stopping you from taking off your thong next, mesmerized by how it digs into your hips and how its color perfectly complements your complexion. Slipping your hands under his shirt to run them up his chest, you pepper kisses along the side of his jaw as he pulls your thong to the side. Teasing two digits between your folds and around your clit to gather up slick, you can’t help but to buck up chasing more of the feeling.

“Relax.” He tells you, a firm hand coming down to your hip. You hadn’t noticed you were tense, too caught up in a hurry trying to chase the sensation his touch brings. His command has you easing up, sinking yourself further into the mattress as he moves closer into your space to hover over you, not once breaking eye contact— eyes that you know better than to try and look away from.

Dropping your hands to lay at your side, he tucks an arm behind your neck to rest his face in its crook, leaving kisses and soft bites along your skin. Running your fingers up into his hair to cradle him closer, bringing him chest to chest, he begins to drive his two fingers deep into you with each and every curl having you moan out in pleasure, widening your legs more in an attempt to rock up against them, chasing his fingers down to the knuckles.

You love the squish sounds your pussy makes, right along with the wet noise of his mouth as he works down your neck. He’s fully clothed still, and when you get the chance to look down you're sure he’s rock hard with the way he’s tenting his sweats. You’d take him out his pants to give him a helping hand, but with the way his fingers are fucking into you so damn good you’re too blissed out from pleasure to find the strength to do so.

Lifting off you a few good strokes later, he moves to tug his clothes off leaving him in his briefs, and you can’t stop your eyes from watching as he takes them off next. His pretty dick, already so hard and heavy, leaking pre. Taking him into your hand, you give his dick a few tight strokes then move to align him to your entrance.

“I can’t get a taste first?” He breathes out catching your hand, a soft lustful look in his eyes. Oh he’s such a sweetie, always so eager to please, who are you to deny such a beautiful man? Letting go to maneuver your thong off for you, he shifts further down the bed pushing your thighs to the side, plump lips quickly meeting your pussy to give kisses to your clit.

Maybe it’s the pillow princess in you, but there’s nothing you love more than the view that comes with getting your box ate. His head buried between your thighs and your long acrylic nails gently playing with his hair. Your oil diffuser has been running in the corner this entire time— the light emitting from its LEDs casting a purplish glow onto everything throughout the room, and funny enough his soft white hair now resembles pink cotton candy.

“Fuck—” You moan out softly with your toes curling, caught off guard by his tongue finding its way inside you. Pulling off to spit on your now sloppy pussy, he takes a thumb to smear it in, rubbing circles on your clit.

“Again.” You whine, dragging an index finger down to widen your pussy as you look down for a closer look when he spits again, this time nearly straight inside you. Watching his fingers push in and out of you afterwards heightening your arousal. It’s nasty, unlike anything you’ve experienced before, but you’re starting to enjoy being nasty for him. If he can be your lil' munch, you’ll happily be his lil' slut. Especially when he holds you this close, grips you just right, savors you up like a delicious treat, and murmurs how amazing you taste, loving how wet you get for him every time.

“Condom?” He pulls off, coming up to lean over you waiting for your response before proceeding. “No…why you still gotta ask?” You say through a teasing smile. It’s only been him, no one else— can’t he tell?

“Just wanna make sure…” He whispers, left hand trailing up to your chest to wrap around your neck then planting a kiss to your cheek.

“‘Cause it’s mine right?” He taunts, with a thumb tracing your lower lip. Moving to aligning himself to your entrance you watch him push in slowly, allowing you to adjust to the stretch of his girt as he sinks deeper into you.

“Shit—” He draws out coming to a hilt, feeling the way you tighten around him he slowly pulls out then back in to watch the way your pussy grabs back at his dick. Taking ahold of your waist he uses a knee to widen you up more, then begins a slow roll of his hips fucking into you in such a way that has you whimpering in pleasure the moment his thighs meet the backsides of yours.

It’s not enough though, too slow for your liking. You’re more into when fucks you down onto him rough and uncaring, really letting you feel every inch of his dick. The both of you know he’s got it in him, you hate that he’s holding back.

“More— harder...” You whine out trying to rut against him, taking your left arm to wrap behind his neck, pushing him closer in effort to spur him on to quicken his pace, your other hand grabbing onto his side.

“Uh-uh, we don’t have to rush…” He murmurs softly, “…i’m not going anywhere.” He shrugs off the arm that’s wrapped around him, taking a hold of your wrist to lay down at the side of your head then intertwining his hand into yours.

“Let me make you feel good.” He pulls out again, this time sliding the tip through your folds then tapping it hard onto your pussy, causing an audible slap sound that has you humming in pleasure.

“Wanna take my time with you— tell me where it feels good, okay?”

You nod in response, voice stuck in your throat as his words fuel the fire that’s burning in your stomach. Lifting your head up a bit to watch as he slides back in, you bring a hand down taking two fingers to part your folds, fingers fixed in a V shape allowing his dick to thrust between them into you

“There you go— spread it open for me.” He grunts, hips rolling slow and shallow, wetting his thumb to rub circles into your clit. “That feel good?”

“Mhm— fuck…deeper.” You nod, he’s only got half his dick in and as much as you love the fact that it’s not even fully in you, yet still has you squirming, you know you can take more— all of it.

“I got you…” He hushes, right hand taking ahold of your right thigh, folding it in towards the side, the new angle has him fucking deeper into you just the way you like it with the both of you watching as you squeeze around him as he continues thrusting in and out of your pussy.

“Toru…right there— don’t stop....” You moan, your own finger now coming to play at your clit. Pussy becoming even more drenched and your whole body growing hot from the way he’s now hitting directly onto your g-spot.

“Here?” He gives another deep thrust hitting your cervix and that has your back arching, a hand coming down to his stomach to push him back.

“Don’t run from it…” He thrusts again, loving the way your mouth parts into an O shape and how tightly you clench down onto him. He spits on your pussy again, looking down you catch a creamy ring starting to form around his dick and that’s turning you on even more. You love this nasty shit, letting him it raw and sloppy, slutting you out this good you’ll do just about anything for him.

“Hold your legs.” He grunts, and you take a hold of your thighs folding them in, his right hand coming down to rest flat onto your stomach holding you steady as his hips snap faster. “Keep playing with it…” He says, and you let go one thigh, keeping it raised to rub at your clit.

As much as you love getting fucked from behind, you’re growing to love missionary just as much. Him caging you in, whispering the nastiest shit he comes up with into your ear, holding yourself open for him to thrust deeper into you, watching the way his dick works into you as you play with your clit. You don’t love this boy but you definitely love the way he lays pipe, fucking into you just right as if he’s already learnt the layout of your pussy. Arousal overtaking your entire body you slide a hand under your cami to grab at your boobs. Your thighs are now starting to tremble then the next thing you know you’re leaking wet fluid then squirting all over his dick. Tightening up so much he has to pull out.

“Shit— come back.” You pant, nails drenched along with the finger that was playing with your clit pruning. Sitting up some you move to wipe your hand on your stomach to get most of it off you. Taking his fingers to push through your folds he collects up just enough slick, bringing them to your mouth for you to suck clean and you happily oblige wrapping your lips around his two digits.

“See how wet you are…” He draws his hand back, coming down to rub small quick circles into your pussy, then a few light taps producing a squish sound it’s wetness. “This how I want you to have it ready for me whenever I come see you.” He leans over to whispers into your ear, you’re then feeling him push back into you causing you to buck your hips up chasing his length and god…just the thought of being in your bedroom playing with your pussy, getting it all nice and wet for him before he comes through is taking you from one hundred to a thousand— it’s about time the slut comes out, no more slow shit, you want to fuck for real now.

“Fuck me…c’mon…wanna cum.” You whine, and that has him taking a hold of your ass, scooting you down the bed closer to his hips quickening his pace, snapping his hips fast, helped by the curve of his dick hitting your g-spot with damn near perfect precision.

“There— don’t stop.” You whine, yet your hands still come down to the tops of his thighs to push him back.

“Stop running.” He collects both wrists into his hands, holding them down above your head as he begins to fuck into your mercifully, hips never stuttering.

“Spit on it again.” You beg, and he does. A fat wad that you feel drip down between your ass. You weren’t into getting your coochie spat on before but fuck it, you’re with all the nasty shit tonight.

“You nasty baby, ain’t think you’d be into that shit. What else do you like, talk to me.” He pants, looking you straight in the eye as he says it, and you're blown away by how gorgeous he looks despite already looking spent with the front of his hair sweated out against his forehead.

“Like when you spank m— ahh!” A hard slap then grip to your ass cuts you off, he thrusts into you deeper in response to your moan. “Fuck, do that again— mhmp!”

Slap!

“Mmmm— what else?”

“Like when you grip me tight— on my waist…there just like that.” You stammer out, a hand coming down to squeeze where you showed him to hold.

“Like when you put your hands around my neck— mmm like that…don’t choke me.” You moan, his large hand wrapping around your throat without any pressure, and you’re batting your eyes all pretty, biting your lip, clenching down on him in return.

“You feel so fucking good…love how you fuck me…what it feel like for you?”

“Feels amazing baby, every single time.” He grunts, deep thrusts followed by each of his last three words. “My pretty girl— you’re so fucking perfect.”

“Swear— not one bitch out here comes close to you.” He says clearly for you to hear— no believe it, and that has you dizzy, clinging onto him and letting out choked up moans that are music to his ears spurring him on.

“Fuck— cum in me.” You moan, too fucked out to care about how you sound right now. You don’t want him to pull out this time, want him to take you however which way he wants, bury his dick deep and bust all up in you.

“Mmm— want me too?” He teases, feeling his dick twitch inside you.

“So bad….” You run a hand up into his hair, gripping his locks to bring him closer towards you. “…wanna watch it drip out…want you to put it back in so you can keep going then cum in me again.”

“Ooooo— don’t say that…” He chuckles low, you can tell by the way his hips stutter that the thought of it is fucking his head up.

“Serious…it’s your pussy— ahh!” Another hard slap to your ass cuts you off, “You said it’s mine now?” He grins wickedly, knows he’s got you slipping, can hear it in your voice.

“Been yours.” You spit back, tired of the teasing. “Said I’m your girl right? Treat it like it’s yours then, cum in me.”

“Heh— you don’t know what you’re saying.” He says low, and you hate that look in his eyes, like you’re out of your mind, too dick drunk and fucked stupid to know what you’re asking for.

“Cum in m— ahh mmmh…t-think about you when you’re not here…want you to fuck me everyday— cum in me as much as you wa— shit ahh!” Another deep thrust that hits your cervix again, making you grip the sheets pressing your heels into the mattress to lower yourself, running from it.

“Lemme be that girl for you…” You continue powering through, wrapping a leg over his back to lock him in. Your voice is needy and dripping with sex, you don’t care how you sound, you'll say anything to tip him over the edge and spill into you.

“Stop talking…” His voice shakes, your own having an affect on him as you feel his dick twitch again up inside you.

“Thought you like it when I talk…” You tease with a smile, he’s getting weak, you can tell you’re about to make him cum.

“Not when you— stop that…” He pushes a hand down on your stomach as you clench around his dick again in an attempt to pull another reaction out of him.

“I was wrong about you…” He speaks up sounding more collected, taking a thumb to part your lips, then dragging down to take a hold of your chin to raise it up. “…you’re not shy…” He slows his thrusts, coming to a complete stop buried deep in you. Two hands come to caress the side of your face, then down your neck, running all over your chest and back up again as if he’s taking in the softness of your skin. “…you just ain’t ever have somebody turn you out…’least not the way I do.”

You can’t help but smile at the fucking truth that is, a small giggle that you’re able to hold down almost coming up from within you.

“I’m not nutting in you tonight.” He states plainly, “But I can fuck you like the lil pornstar you’re tryna be…come lick it up real quick...I need a break I don’t wanna nut just yet.” He pulls out of your wrecked pussy, sitting back on his heels holding his dick in his hand ready for you to clean off.

Lifting up with a breathy groan from how sore your thighs ache, you arch down low in front of him, taking him in your hand and squeezing roughly at the tip just the way he likes it, licking up every bit of yourself off him.

“Bring it up for me…yeah.” He leans over you to grab your ass, and you’re raising it up higher for him to get a better grip.

“Get the front. Sides. All of it.” You do as he instructs, swirling your tongue as you stroke his dick then you’re wrapping your lips around him. About a minute or so later, once you're sure you’ve cleaned it all up, you’re pulling off with an audible pop and a smile on your face.

“Turn…” He motions for you to move. You turn around, arching down low as he knees his way up the bed, his hands resting on either side of your ass, aligning his dick to your entrance. “Scoot back closer to me…right here…arch…lower…there you go.” He guides you down into position, hands rubbing up and down your back as he does so.

Missionary great but backshots are even better. Love how it feels when he pushes in, hands pressing deep into the dimples of your back, dick hard and curving up into you fast, tight grip of his hands on your body working you down to feel every inch of his length.

You don’t miss the string of curses he lets out as his hips slam up into you either, the sound of your ass clapping his hips as you fuck back onto him. Even the weight you’re putting on him is throwing his rhythm off to where he’s taking a hand to your shoulder to steady himself as he fucks into you like a bully. Just wait till I see you again— yeah that was code for ‘Imma bust your shit open’.

Slap!

“You got it baby— just like that.” He groans against your ear, followed by another hard slap against the underside of your thigh almost making you crawl up the bed.

Slap!

“Uh-uh come on, keep pushing back.” He calls out, pushing you down further causing your legs to widen for him, giving more access to fuck into you. He’s so deep, degrading thrusts knocking up against your cervix with you panting out in a mix of pain and pleasure yet you love it so much. Love the way he fucks like you’ve got the best pussy he’s ever been in, tearing your shit up like he’s mad at you.

This ain’t just fucking now, nah this is different, y’all screwing. The type of fucking you shouldn’t be doing with just anybody, likely as to why it feels so damn good this way. He ain’t your man just yet, but he’s definitely becoming your something.

Arching with your chest completely flat against the mattress, you then bring a hand behind yourself to spread your cheeks apart, holding your pussy open for him with his hand coming to grab you at the wrist tight to hold you back.

“Whose is it?”

“Yours!” You cry out, taking your free hand down in between your legs to play at your clit. Face squished into the mattress, you can feel yourself drooling but you don’t care, you need to cum so bad. You’re almost there.

“Uh-uh, say my name baby. Yours who?”

“Yours Gojo!”

“Mmmm.” You hear him chuckle, pleased by the way his name sounds coming off your tongue. “What I gotta do, nut in you for you to remember?”

“Yeah— go ’head do it.” You whine out looking back at him and holy shit the look on his face has you burning up even more, you can tell he’s trying his hardest to hold back from bussing. You fucked him enough times by now to know he’s close when his brows knit together like that.

Lifting yourself up to hold onto your headboard for leverage, he comes up closer behind you, your back to his chest as he fucks up into you deep and hurried holding onto your breasts. The creak of your bed frame and squeak of your mattress coils adding to the pants and moans coming from the both of you.

“Can’t even feel my dick— that’s how wet you are.” He breathes into your ear, your hands coming to cover his own two holding him closer, loving the way they feel grabbing and squeezing your tits.

“You really gonna let me cum in you one day?” He breathes, unsteady too and you love the sound of it— how he’s not shy to show how weak your pussy gets him.

“Of course—”

“Fuck— I think I heard the door, your roommates might of came back.” He breathes out, yet neitherare stopping as he’s still fucking into you chasing his own orgasm.

“Your bed is loud…we gotta slow down.” He warns, and you feel his pace start to slow, and that just won’t do— you need him to cum. You don’t give a fuck if your roommates hear, you spent too many nights hearing them get fucked. They can give you a damn pass.

“Don’t stop— keep going.” You buck back, “ ‘ts your pussy…take it whenever you want…stop fucking worrying about shit.”

“Fuck you want them to hear you?” His hand comes up to your neck, wrapping around your throat a bit tight as he fucks you down onto his length picking his pace back up.

“I don’t give a f— hmph!” You squeak, not expecting his hand to slap over your mouth to hold back your moans in an attempt to keep you quiet. He’s fucking into you relentlessly now, hips snapping like crazy as he chases his orgasm. Bringing your finger back down to continue rubbing circles into your clit you soon feel that familiar heat rise up your body, then the next thing you know you’re cumming and moaning in pleasure but he doesn’t stop, continuing to fuck up into your tore pussy.

Dropping his hand from your mouth he presses you back to the mattress and after a few final thrusts he’s pushing off you with his back hitting the mattress, stroking his dick fast then cumming all over his knuckles and chest.

“Shit— fuck!” He pants, white ropes of hot cum dripping off the side of his toned stomach. “We gotta chill…” He breathes out. “…I almost nutted in you.” He pants, completely fucked out.

“I know…” You roll onto your back besides him, watching as he gives his dick a couple more strokes, squeezing the last bit of cum out of him, slowly dripping down his dick.

Post nut clarity is starting to hit. He’s right, y’all need to chill…your ass isn’t on birth control, and you haven’t told him that yet either. You know in your heart he’s the last person you want to have to send a ‘I need to tell you something’ text too.

Reaching around for your phone, you glance at the time to see it’s just past midni— for more, read the rest of the chapter here…

369 notes · View notes

littlejuicebox · 10 months

Text

Naughty or Nice?

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x F!Reader/Tav Summary/Setting: The first winter post-BG3 / You became Astarion's consort and you're at a ball... he likes to toy with you. Rating/Warnings: M+ / Smut / Spoilers for the game / Cursing / Improper use of mage hand / BSDM vibes / Dom Astarion vibes / teasing, masturbation, overstimulation, exhibitionism, mentions of flogging, etc. Word Count: 3K Notes: This is 3/5 "Days of Star-mas!"

Click here to see my master list.

-----

Yet another holiday ball, how dreadfully boring.

You sigh as you tug on your dress for the millionth time before a sharp pinch on your rear stuns you into stillness. You let out a soft hum as you feel the warm breath of your lover against your ear, tickling your neck before he playfully nips at your ear lobe.

“Now be a good girl and quit fidgeting, my treasure. I want everyone to see how beautiful and desirable you look in that dress, and your hands keep getting in the way of such a delectable view.” Astarion chides, running his fingers down your bare spine, leaving a tingle of excitement in their absence.

You’re sat, as always, on the Vampire Ascendent’s lap; it’s quickly become a well-known peculiarity of your coupling that your ornate throne beside him hardly sees any use. You wriggle as the elf continues to wander his pale fingers up and down your spinal column. Apart from your neck, your back was Astarion’s favorite part of your body to display. Almost every gown he dressed you in nowadays, as his perfect, beautiful little doll, left that sinewy form around your spine well-exposed.

Tonight, he’d dressed you in another one of his custom, ridiculously expensive and more ridiculously provocative pieces, commissioned by one of Baldur’s Gate’s most revered clothiers.

The gown was a deep burgundy, hand draped to your curves and covered in countless glimmering crystals. A deep sweetheart neckline was barely held up by two dainty, useless straps. The back of the gown left your muscled form on full display; the final bits of your lower spine were partially obscured by a crossed set of laces, tied neatly in a bow and not leaving anything to the imagination as the skirt of the dress clung to your hips.

The Vampire Ascendent had called you the “perfect present” for his Midwinter Ball, and you were expected to play the part of his perfect consort as he presented you to several of the Guilds this party hosted.

Astarion’s hand grazes up your leg, fully exposed to him by the thigh high slit cut into the gown. You writhe as your lover teases you, letting out the softest gasp as his hand just barely brushes under the slit of your gown before traveling back down toward your knee.

“My perfect little present,” He murmurs as the music from the band swells, “Take a turnabout the room for me, little love. Let everyone feast their eyes on your beauty and covet what is mine.”

You knew the Vampire Ascendent always aimed to use you as a status symbol at these silly parties. You were quite the spectacle as the renowned hero of Baldur’s Gate turned into his obedient, and always provocatively dressed, consort. It was such a stark change from the heavily armored warrior woman you had been less than a year ago. The statue in the town square, made to your likeness, truly looked nothing like you anymore. You had been a fearsome, rugged, warrior… always caked in dirt and blood; but now, you were a perfect doll, always pristine and well-kept.

You groan, not really wanting to partake in the charade tonight, but Astarion gives you a little tut, and the sharp warning look on his face was enough to force you out into the crowd. The Vampire Lord may have a soft spot for his consort, but he was not above punishing her, if need be.

You slink off your lover’s lap and saunter about the Great Hall, gold chalice in hand, politely nodding here and there to several of the guild members that meet your gaze. More of them, you notice, are too distracted by the high cut of your gown and the spilling of your cleavage to actually meet your eyes. Typical.

Soon enough your pathway is interrupted by the leader of one of the Mercantile Guilds, a tall blonde human woman with an accent, whose name you’ve all but forgotten. You truly had no interest in the elbow rubbing and political chess matches that occurred at these soirées.

“Lady Ancunin… I was hoping for a moment to speak with you.”

The woman begins to ramble on, promoting her Guild, which currently holds control over majority of the sea trade to and from Baldur’s Gate. She is expressing concern over a smaller, but growing, faction and asking for support from the Ancunin House. You find the entire thing unbelievably boring, and barely stifle a yawn.

Suddenly, you hear Astarion’s voice in your ear, and your attention shoots to the high table where the vampire is lounging in his throne, sipping from a chalice, his scarlet eyes locked on you. It’s clear the lady merchant is none the wiser as she babbles on, and you soon realize the Vampire Lord is communicating to you through your blood bond.

“Now, now, little love. Pay attention and look interested. You know as well as I do that Lady Beauchamp prefers to use you as the middle person in our dealings, hoping your supposed “mutual alignment” as the "fairer sex" works in her favor. Perhaps you require a bit more… stimulation to keep you from looking so terribly bored.”

His voice reverberates through your mind, enveloping your psyche in a lover’s caress that quickly causes you to become slick with desire. You watch Astarion subtly snap his fingers at the high table, and shudder as you feel the cold tracings of a finger along your spine — an invisible mage hand, no doubt. Your eyes widen and flicker from Lady Beauchamp and back to your lover, where he is smirking in twisted delight before he turns away from you to laugh at some comment made by another one of the nobles.

The tall guild leader continues, “So, as you can see, Lady Ancunin… this faction is cause for— are you alright?”

You’re trembling as you attempt to hold some level of control over your reactions. How could he toy with you like this? The invisible mage hand has now trailed underneath your gown and started petting your barren slit with two cold, invisible fingers. Damn Astarion for never allowing you to wear undergarments and compelling you to take them off every time you tried to preserve a modicum of your own dignity.

You cough, trying to cover up the gasp that so desperately wanted to escape your throat. “Y-yes Lady Beauchamp, my apologies, it’s a bit cold in here what with the winter air. Please do continue… w-what is it you’re asking of our House?”

Lady Beauchamp’s eyes flicker over your scant, silken gown and you catch a glimpse of judgement in her eyes; you know she thinks you improperly clothed for the season. But she’s wise enough to hold back any comments and instead continues on with her end of the conversation, pleading her case for aid to you.

You are held as a hostage to your own arousal, thighs trembling as you are held on an edge your lover will not allow you jump off of. You wring your hands on the stem of your goblet, nodding at the merchant woman and trying your hardest to feign interest.

Gods you were dripping. You absently wonder if the signs of your arousal were becoming visible through your gown. Your eyes flit back to Astarion, and his gaze is fixed on you once again, a cocky eyebrow raised as he traces the rim of his goblet with one slender finger. You’re silently pleading with the Vampire Ascendent for mercy with your wide eyes and all he does is chuckle and shake his head, eyes crinkling in dark delight.

No. There would be no mercy. You feel the slickness dripping down your thighs as the mage hand plunges into you and you roll your eyes up to the ceiling as you stifle a moan.

“So… what do you think?” Lady Beauchamp asks, her head tilted in confusion. You realized too late that she’d been waiting for your answer, and that the pause in conversation had become uncomfortable enough for her to prompt you.

You nod your head slightly, barely able to breathe as you form the next sentence. The mage hand was back to stroking between your folds, and as you barely catch the scent of your own arousal, you worry that Lady Beauchamp would soon smell you, too. “I-it is much to consider, but I will plead your case to Lord Ancunin. Now I apologize but if you’ll excuse me, my husband has beckoned for me at the high table.”

Astarion has, of course, done no such thing. But you swiftly exit the conversation with the Guild leader and head back towards the Vampire Ascendent.

When you finally make your way back to your lover, he grabs your trembling hand in his own solid, strong one. He possessively tugs you closer to him, and then the Vampire Lord plants a kiss to your knuckle. He smirks mischievously, eyebrow cocking as he flits his hungry eyes to your groin. The mage hand is still continuing its ministrations and has now started to lazily circle your sensitive little nub.

“I can smell you, my treasure… and see your little trembles as you try so hard to be a good girl and keep it together. Absolutely delicious. What a tempting little treat… look at you, with your cheeks all flushed.” He coos, scarlet eyes moving up to look into yours. When you meet his gaze, you see hints of dark, possessive desire in his eyes... and a bit of sadistic pleasure as he witnesses your suffering.

You moan as the mage hand plunges into you once more, and even though the high table is now barren as everyone else has swarmed to the dance floor, you feel the pricked heat of embarrassment spreading across your face.

Astarion chuckles and drops your hand before running his fingers up your exposed thigh. “I think you’ve been a good little pet tonight. And you will soon get your reward. Go to the bedchambers and wait for me... I’ll send the mage hand with you to keep you company, of course.”

All you can do is nod your head, before turning on your heels and swiftly exiting the ballroom. You nearly sprint to your bedchambers, certain now that the evidence of your arousal is seeping onto the gown. As you enter the bedroom, you move to rip your gown off, but the mage hand swats your hands away from the laces. It seemed the Vampire Lord wanted to be the one to unwrap his little present tonight.

For a moment you consider touching yourself, but as soon as the thought crosses your mind, you hear Astarion’s tut of disapproval within your psyche.

“Now, now, little vampling. Be a good girl and wait. Before I’m forced to have the mage hand bring out the flog."

You whine in desperation again and hear that dark chuckle within your mind. The mage hand is continuing its ministrations, now aggressively teasing your nipples as you settle yourself on the bed to wait for your lover. Your entire body is wracked with overwhelming desire, every inch of you trembling as the invisible hand continues its torture.

“How long will I have to wait?” You breathlessly ask to the air, but you know that Astarion is always listening. There is a beat of silence where you think perhaps the Vampire Lord is purposely ignoring you, but then he responds, clearly entertained by your little predicament.

“Oh… not much longer, my treasure. Patience is a virtue. I’ll see you at the end of the party.”

The party wasn’t set to end for another hour. You nearly scream in anguish as another dark chuckle caresses your mind. Pinpricks of frustrated tears begin to form as you wiggle with the mixture of anticipation and overstimulation. Gods you wanted to touch yourself so badly; you were wringing your hands together to avoid the temptation.

“Little love… it is up to you if you’re going to be naughty or nice. But you know what I will be forced to do, should you choose to be naughty.”

You whine again. An hour… you could withstand the torture for an hour, couldn’t you? Surely you could choose to be nice.

And hells, if you chose to be naughty… the pain was always worth the pleasure, in the end.

309 notes · View notes

tinytinyblogs · 4 months

Text

Cuddling is my favorite!

Cuddling? Definitely. You want me to be the little spoon? Absolutely.

Hyung line, Maknae line

Stray kids masterlist

Your insights and reactions make these posts come alive. Love reblogs, comments, and all the good vibes welcome ✨

Han

"Oh, that's new," he said once he heard your request, but Han walked closer to you. Usually, he loves to be the big spoon. Don't get him wrong; cuddling is one of his favorite ways to escape the cruel world, seeking solace in the affection from the person he loves most, which is you. He's mostly the one who wraps you up in his embrace, enveloping you in warmth and protection. But tonight, he was willing to switch things up. As he approached, his eyes softened, and a small, understanding smile played on his lips. He gently wrapped his arms around you, fitting himself into your embrace. You could feel the tension melt away from his body as he nestled closer, clearly appreciating the change. His head rested on your chest, and you began to caress his hair softly, running your fingers through the silky strands. He sighed contentedly, his body relaxing further into yours. Moments later, he started to hum a gentle melody, his soft voice resonating against your skin. It was a simple tune, but it carried a depth of emotion that spoke volumes. He closed his eyes, completely surrendering to the comfort of the moment.

You could feel his breathing slow, syncing with yours, creating a serene rhythm. "This is nice," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. His words were filled with gratitude and contentment, making the moment even more special. As you continued to hold each other, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in a cocoon of love and tranquility. "You know I love you so much, right?" he said, his voice soft and almost mumbling. He paused for a moment, as if searching for the right words to express his feelings. "Like, very, very much," he continued, his eyes locking with yours to emphasize his sincerity. "Being with you, feeling your arms around me, it makes me feel complete. There's this warmth and peace that I can't find anywhere else. It's like all the pieces of my life fall into place when I'm with you." He nestled closer, his head resting against your chest. "I can't imagine my life without you," he whispered, his voice filled with emotion.

Felix

As soon as you ask him, his hands freeze on the keyboard, and he turns his eyes away from the computer screen despite being in the middle of his game. When your eyes meet, a huge grin spreads across his face, lighting up the room. "I thought you'd never ask," he says teasingly, his voice filled with warmth and affection. A moment later, he walks over to you without hesitation. He stands up from his gaming chair, the familiar creak of the chair barely noticeable, and throws himself into your arms, surrendering to your embrace. You can feel his body relax, the tension melting away as he basks in the comfort and safety of your hug. His breathing slows, syncing with yours, and you know he feels completely at ease. "You know what…" he murmurs, his eyes closing as he breathes in your scent, a scent that always calms and grounds him. "I always wanted to be the small spoon…" His voice trails off as he opens his eyes, those beautiful eyes that always captivate you, now looking into yours with an intense yet gentle gaze. "But sometimes I find it too embarrassing to ask." He chuckles softly, the sound like music to your ears, and you see the familiar heart eyes he gets whenever he looks at you, full of love and admiration.

"Getting all this love and affection from you is absolutely my favorite," he continues, his voice barely above a whisper, as if sharing a secret just for you. "More than your game?" you tease, a playful smile tugging at your lips. He pretends to ponder the question, his brow furrowing slightly in mock concentration. After a moment, he lets out a giggle, a deep, genuine sound that makes your heart flutter. "I think so…" he says in his deep, soothing voice. "More than it… you are my favorite, more than any of those games." He wraps his arms around you tighter, pulling you even closer, as if trying to merge your souls together. "You know," he begins, his voice taking on a more serious tone, "these moments with you, they're what I look forward to the most. No game, no matter how exciting, can compare to the way I feel when I'm with you." His words fill you with warmth, a sense of belonging and love that is unparalleled. You run your fingers through his hair, feeling the softness and hearing his contented sigh. "I love you," he whisper, his voice filled with all the emotions he feel for you.

Seungmin

Seungmin, being his usual self, just stared at you when your voice echoed through the room, asking for cuddles and specifically wanting to be the big spoon. After a few seconds, he let out a sassy expression and said, "Come on, shouldn't I be the one to big spoon you?" Despite his playful protest, he started walking closer to you. "You're lucky I love you," he added, unable to hide the smile spreading across his face. His happiness was evident as you offered your affection. When you opened your arms, he melted into your embrace, hugging you tightly and letting himself be completely at your mercy. "This is nice," he mumbled softly, his voice filled with contentment. You could feel the warmth of his body as he settled into your arms, the closeness bringing a sense of comfort and joy to both of you. Seungmin's initial sassiness gave way to a tender moment as he allowed himself to be vulnerable with you. One of the ways he shows how much he loves you is by letting his icy exterior melt. No one else ever sees this side of him; he's only soft for you. All he needs is your attention, no one else's.

He held you tight, pulling himself closer and closing his eyes to savor the moment. "I love you," he said in a low voice, almost a whisper, his breath warm against your ear. "I really do." His soft words, rarely spoken out loud, were filled with a depth of emotion that made your heart swell. "You know that, right?" he continued, his voice gentle and sincere. "I never show this side of me to anyone but you." He paused, his hand gently tracing small circles on your back as if to emphasize his feelings. "Being with you like this, it means everything to me. You make me feel safe and loved in a way no one else ever has." He nuzzled closer, his face buried in your neck as he whispered, "I want you to know how special you are to me. Every moment we share, every touch, every word, it all means so much. You’re the one who brings out the best in me, the one I trust with my heart." His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, making you feel cherished and adored. The love he was expressing, so tender and profound, made this moment one you would never forget

Jeongin

To be honest, you didn't even need to ask for it—Jeongin's affection was like a gentle wave, always ready to envelop you in its warmth. So, when you woke up this morning, the sensation of a comforting weight on top of you was no surprise. Opening your eyes, you were greeted by the sight of Jeongin holding you close, his head nestled against your chest. "Good morning, love," he whispered, his voice a soft murmur that sent shivers of warmth through you. As you reached to stroke his hair, you felt his grip around you tighten, as if he wanted to ensure you were real, right there with him. In the quiet of the morning, he confessed, "I'm kind of craving your love even more this morning." His words were like a sweet melody, filling the room with a tenderness that seemed to wrap around you both. "And you look adorable when you're sleeping," he added with a gentle chuckle, his eyes sparkling with affection as he gazed up at you. His arms around you felt like home, and you couldn't help but smile, feeling a rush of love for this person who knew just how to make every moment special.

With Jeongin, even the simplest of mornings became a treasure trove of affection and shared intimacy, leaving you grateful for the love you found in each other's arms. He always did this, you thought with a fond smile. Jeongin didn't mind whether he was the small spoon or the big spoon; all he wanted was to feel your love, in any form it came. And seeing him so content in your embrace made your heart swell with happiness. He wasn't one to wait for affection; he would seek it out eagerly. Sometimes, he'd pull you into a hug out of nowhere, wrapping his arms around you with such warmth and sincerity that you couldn't help but melt into his embrace. Other times, he would simply draw close to you when you were lying on the bed, ready for a cuddle session. Being the small spoon for you was something he cherished, especially on days when his mind was filled with a whirlwind of thoughts and worries. In those moments, feeling your presence and your comforting touch against him was like a balm for his soul, grounding him and reminding him of what truly mattered.

146 notes · View notes

birdiewriteslit · 8 months

Text

wildest dreams au

luke hughes x abigail abernathy

masterlist

glamorousgail🔒

tagged rudeth, drewstarkey, jonathandavissofficial, madisonbaileybabe

Liked by rudeth and 17 others

glamorousgail miss this gang

View comments

drewstarkey soon🏄‍♂️

madisonbaileybabe summer cannot come soon enough

glamorousgail @/madisonbaileybabe literally three days into january and sick of it

lhughes_06 @/glamorousgail you live in new england

glamorousgail @/lhughes_06 fine i’ll just move to florida without you…

lhughes_06 @/glamorousgail DO NOT

madelyncline i miss you cutie pie

❤️ by author

jonathandavissofficial pogue life is the best life

glamorousgail @/jonathandavissofficial if that ain’t the truth

carlaciagrant ugh i miss these vibes

hichasestokes 🤙🤙

rudeth guys i inspired this post

❤️ by author

lhughes_06 @/rudeth well aren’t you special

January 3, 2024

—

messages 5:04 pm

luke: are you seriously still talking to rudy

abigail: he’s my friend so yes

luke: do you remember why he broke up with you

abigail: believe it or not i do and we’ve talked about it

abigail: he feels really bad and i don’t want to fuck up what we have right now especially with season 4 on the horizon

luke: gail that doesn’t fix what he did

luke: i’m looking out for you

abigail: i know that’s what you think you’re doing but trust me luke i know how to handle this

abigail: i’ve had exes who didn’t like our friendship and when they broke up with me bc of it it’s never bothered you this much

luke: whatever just forget about it

abigail: good luck tonight

read 5:17 pm

—

Abigail set her phone down and rubbed a hand over her face. She let out a frustrated sigh. It was true, she had a few ex boyfriends who hadn’t loved the idea of her being so close with other guys.

Rudy was one of them, but him and Abigail had finally reached a point where that didn’t matter, and they could go back to what they were before they started dating during the filming of season one of OBX.

She wished Luke would understand that Rudy had changed, but she knew the real reason he was upset about it, even if they pretended it never happened.

December 31, 2023

After the fireworks and the party, Abigail and the boys had successfully made it back to her apartment.

They made a great drinking game out of Monopoly on her bathroom floor, and it was getting a little wild.

Jack had almost flipped the board a few times because Abigail threatened to take his properties (even though that was against the rules).

“That’s it! I can’t afford a fucking hotel, I’m quitting this,” Quinn announced, standing from the bathroom tile, wobbling a bit before taking a few slow steps toward the door. He didn’t make it far before he slipped on some spare Monopoly dollars and came crashing down into the bathtub.

Jack laughed hysterically as Quinn groaned from the tub.

“I’ll go get some water for these guys,” Abigail decided, patting Luke’s arm before heading to the kitchen.

Luke glanced down at his phone in a nervous manner. “Wait up,” he said, following her into the hall.

Abigail took two glasses from the cabinet and placed them on the counter. “You think I need help?” she said, teasing.

“I think you’re perfectly capable,” he said, hands in his pockets as he stood by the island.

“Alright,” she responded skeptically.

Luke cleared his throat. “There’s a minute until midnight,” he said suddenly.

“Really? I didn’t know it was that late already.” She filled up each cup and put them in front of Luke on the island.

“Time flies when you’re having fun.” He looked at her like he was expecting something. He wanted Abigail to make the connection. He wanted her to round the counter and get closer to him. And then, he wanted her to kiss him when the countdown was over.

He could hear his heart pounding in his ears. Abigail wasn’t saying anything. She was looking at him with her lips parted, her eyebrows pushed together. Luke thought, for a moment, for a good thirty seconds, that that look meant she didn’t want what he did.

On the tv in the living room that was still playing from before they all left to go see the fireworks, the countdown had reached twenty seconds.

Luke’s eyes glanced down at Abigail’s body, he couldn’t hold eye contact for much longer without imploding. The strap of her tank top had fallen from her shoulder. Absentmindedly, he reached out to fix it.

When he did, he looked back to her face and saw she was staring at his lips. As the countdown finished, she grabbed his hand and guided it to her neck, pulling him forward simultaneously and kissing him hard.

Cheers could be heard from the television, but Luke could hear nothing over the sound of the blood rushing to his ears.

Maybe it was the alcohol that made Abigail that confident, or maybe it was just how tired she was of wanting to kiss him but never being able to.

She pulled away faster than she wanted to. Luke stared at her with a dumbstruck look on his face. Abigail avoided his eyes and grabbed the glasses from the counter, taking them to where Jack and Quinn were waiting.

January 3, 2024

Abigail didn’t talk to Luke about the kiss after it happened. Luke never mentioned anything about it to Abigail either, but she couldn’t help but wonder if it had been more than just a mistake she made when she was drunk.

What did it mean to him? How would it affect their relationship if he wanted it? Were they just going to stay friends or become more?

“I can’t do this right now,” she muttered to herself, before throwing herself back on the couch and passing out.

When she woke up, the Devils game was over. They won, but her nap rendered her groggy and feeling even worse.

She found her phone on the floor and picked it up, deciding to make a call. It rung for about a second before Quinn picked up.

“Abby, what’s up?”

“I just took a fat nap and I feel horrible,” she stated plainly.

Quinn laughed on the other side of the phone. “I feel that. Did you catch the game?”

“No, I’ve been asleep, Quinn. I can’t do this sun down at four thing.” She scowled at the dark sky outside her window.

“Even though you’ve lived in Boston your whole life? I’d think you’d be used to it by now,” Quinn said. “Are you okay?”

Quinn heard it in Abigail’s voice. She didn’t take that nap because she felt overwhelmed by the darkness. She sighed into the phone.

“Luke and I got into a sort of fight before the game. It wasn’t really a fight, he’s just upset I’ve been out with Rudy.” Abigail conveniently left out the whole kissing his brother thing, she just needed Quinn’s reassurance, like she always did.

“He seemed pissed tonight, at least on tv. Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really, but thanks for picking up, Quinny. I just wanted to let somebody know. You know, before I think about it too much.”

“We wouldn’t want that.” Abigail could hear the smile in his voice. They said goodbye and hung up the phone.

Abigail opened her messages and saw nothing new. Then, she checked twitter, and promptly closed the app after realizing she couldn’t escape her problems.

#birdiewriteslit #birdiewritesfics #birdie’s aus #birdie’s edits #wildest dreams au #abigail abernathy #luke hughes x abigail abernathy #luke hughes x oc #luke hughes fic #luke hughes #jack hughes #quinn hughes #rudy pankow #nhl fic #nhl #nj devils #smau #media edit #lh43

84 notes · View notes

restinslices · 8 months

Note

Hello! Could you do the Lin Kuei trio with a g!n reader asking them to dance? Like what you did with the earthrealm boys!

You finna be real disappointed 😭

My phone storage still in hell so no pics. I need to make a moodboard for everyone or smth

Bi-Han

There's legit nothing else for me to say

Listen, I know I make him sweeter than he actually is a lot but I can't make my fingers type some shit like “yeah! he'd totally be for it!”

You could be the apple of his eye, the reason he woke up in the morning, the oxygen in his lungs, the wind under his wings, his cinnamon apple, and he'd still tell you no

“Absolutely not” to be more specific

You think Bi-Han, the mf with a huge ego, is always serious and damn near has Batman's voice is gonna boogie? It's wishful thinking but the answer is no

Especially for a video? Get the fuck-

The best you'll get is him listening to the song

Which isn't all that good because he's the type to say “I'm listening” and is very much NOT listening

“I'm listening” *starts vacuuming*

He likes slower music so he'll “listen” to that

I get it, y'all want me to say he'd be super sweet but babe at some point the delusion is so delusional we gotta snap out of it

He wouldn't even have a favorite song because like I said, he's not listening much. Instead of hearing lyrics, he just keeps thinking “I can't believe they asked that”

Kuai Liang

No pt2

Y'all I can only lie so much

Kuai Liang and Bi-Han are some of the most serious people in the game

You're not getting either of them on board with this dancing shit

And you're posting it? Now it's especially no

The Earthrealm guys are goofy. They'll do goofy shit like this. These guys? Some of y'all 'bout to be real mad at me, but it must be said…

Unlike Bi-Han he'll listen to a song and actually listen to it

And maybe he'll have a favorite. Maybe.

Kuai Liang gives me “I only stick to one genre” vibes so he'll listen to it but the chances of him listening to it again are pretty slim

This ain't what y'all want but I'm tryna imagine it and feel the fantasy and it's just not fantasy-ing

Maybe he'll slow dance with you but that's off camera and private

He wouldn't lie and be like “oh sure. We can do it later”

He's just like “um… no but thanks for the invite”

You can ask another Lin Kuei though. He won't be upset

Or you can do it by yourself and he'll gladly watch and hold the camera

Tomas Vrbada

Y'all ain't gon’ believe what imma say next-

LISTEN I wanna say they'd all bust it down but like y'all, let's be real 😭

None of them are letting you record them dancing then post it on the internet. They are assassins that's constantly doing shit for Earthrealm

He'd be nice when he says no at least

“I'm no good at dancing. You can show me though”

Maybe he'd do a little step to the left, step to the right, spin around and break it down tonight but it's not on camera

It'd have to be the most simple dance ever and you two would have to be alone

He'd do a little dance if you kept bothering him but that video shit is not happening and he'd only do it once. Maybe twice.

Idk why but I feel like Tomas got two left feet but he'll try his best for you so you let it go

I remember in a post I said I feel like he's lowkey a Twice stan but have y'all seen their choreography? He's gonna break a damn knee

He'll gladly do the fan chants and watch you though

Overall the answer is no but he'll listen to any songs you recommend and he'll watch you. Might do a little boogie once or twice if you stay on his ass.

I wanted to be delusional too ya’ll but I couldn’t 😔 This is so short but I ain’t know what to say. We’ve discussed my brain is ass rn

#mk1 #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat 1 #bi han sub zero #bi han #bi han headcanons #kuai liang #kuai liang scorpion #kuai liang mk1 #kuai liang headcanons #tomas vrbada smoke #tomas vrbada #tomas vrbada headcanons #mk1 headcanons

71 notes · View notes

senditcolton · 1 year

Text

we’re a bad idea

Mat Martin was a bad idea. That didn’t stop you from wanting him.

moodboard | playlist | word count: 5.6k

a/n: welp, here i am, back to posting things later than promised and not knowing what a blurb is. but like i said when i first posted about this concept: i was in a mood, okay!? i also realized this is the first time i’ve written smut in four months and... damn i missed it!

warnings: feminine reader, teammates sister, age gap. mean dom!Marty. smut! semi-public fingering. teasing, dirty talk, brat taming. slight age-play dynamics. plus degradation, choking, and size kink if you squint.

Disclaimer: Reading/creating content for married players isn’t for everyone. Please don’t read if you don’t vibe with it, but don’t attack me or others!

Being the sister of a hockey player comes with its pros and cons.

Pros: free hockey games, an automatic invite to nights out, and an immediate family outside of your immediate family. Con: Matt Martin.

Okay, Matt Martin wasn’t exactly a con. But your gigantic, massive crush on him had been a burden since Scotty introduced you. He was hot – there was no denying that. And you weren’t exactly subtle about your feelings.

Matt knew you had a crush on him. And he teased you for it – relentlessly. Part of you thought that he liked pushing your buttons, seeing you flustered. It was easy to make you falter. Or… it used to be.

You had returned to New York after finishing up university and you definitely grew up while you were away. You gained confidence, learned how to flirt, learned how to banter, and most importantly, gained a lot more experience in the… relationship department than you had before.

Now, tonight, you were armed with your best fitting jeans and your sleekest shirt as you accompanied Scotty to the bar where some of his teammates were waiting. You were excited to see a lot of the boys again, excited to hear about their lives and tell them about yours. You were also excited to show them the new you. The bolder, bouncier, cooler you.

And when you approach the table, you can’t stop the smile that forms when you hear the guys cheer at seeing you again. You greet each of them, laughing when Barzy scoops you up into a spinning hug, pressing a quick kiss to Grace’s cheek, before you depart to order your drink, promising them that you’ll be back soon.

You waltz up to the bar and grab the bartender’s attention, placing your order before leaning against the wood, eyes darting around the space. It felt good to be back in New York, that much was true. You couldn’t stop yourself from closing your eyes and pausing to soak in this moment: sure, the bar was a little cramped, the music was maybe a smidge too loud. But this was life. This was energy. This was excitement.

Tonight was going to be one to remember.

It is when that thought passes through your mind do you feel a large, yet surprisingly delicate touch on your shoulder. It was a touch you were familiar with; a man trying to get your attention but not wanting to be too aggressive. The next thing that will come is a request to buy you a drink.

“You’re too pretty to be drinking alone.” The voice comes and your eyes snap open at the timbre, so recognizable and so intoxicating. Matt Martin circles around you, his sentence continuing. “Could I buy you a dr-”

That’s where his words end. Because that’s when his eyes connect to your face and you watch the recognition flash across his features. You are almost frozen, looking up at him with wide eyes, caught a little – no completely – off guard that this was how you were seeing him again.

Your brain was also still wrestling the fact that Matt Martin was just hitting on you.

The two of you stand there silently for a moment, still trying to compose yourselves and recover from the… interesting introduction. You somehow manage to regain some semblance of control first, your expression relaxing as your lips twist into a small smile.

Matt notices your grin and he returns it generously.

“Wow,” he mutters, quiet enough that you would’ve missed it if you weren’t hanging on to every word. “Look at you. Little Mayfield is all grown up now.”

He says those words joking, casually, like a family friend should. But the way his eyes are raking up and down your body tells you that his thoughts are anything but family friendly. Eventually, he opens his arms and murmurs a gentle “c’mere kid”, his hands moving in a coaxing gesture. You don’t have to think twice before you’re collapsing into him, feeling him envelop you in a hug, inhaling the scent of his cologne, welcoming the warmth of his body.

You pull away and if you notice the way his hands may have lingered a little longer on your hips before falling, you don’t call him out on it. Instead, you decide to call him out on something else.

“You still offering to buy me a drink?” you quip, a devilish smirk appearing on your lips as you glance up at him, the grin widening as you see the miniscule furrow of his brows at your words. Your energy.

He had a lot of catching up to do.

“You didn’t order one already?”

“No,” you reply and of course, that’s the moment the bartender finally makes their way back to you, placing the glass and your card down on the bar top. There’s a small flash of embarrassment that runs through you as you see Matt raise a singular brow.

“Fine,” you say, quickly calculating the tip and signing the receipt before turning back to Matt, drink now in hand. “But that doesn’t mean that I would say no to another.”

“Two cocktails in under 10 minutes? What would Scotty think?”

“I could probably drink him under a table now,” you scoff, your eyes rolling playfully as you poke fun at your brother. Which was easy to do when he wasn’t in earshot. “University changed a lot for me.”

“I can see that.”

His eyes are still on you, still scanning over your body and you can’t help but cock your head to the side, calling his attention to your face. You don’t say anything, just another small tilt and teasing look, one that Matt reads well enough.

“Well,” you say, taking a sip of your drink before angling your body away from the bar. “If you do decide to bring another gin and tonic to our table, I wouldn’t complain. Entirely up to you.”

That’s all you say before departing, not bothering to look back towards Matt. Mostly because you can still feel the heat of his gaze on you retreating frame. You make your way back to the table, slipping into the crowded corner booth, listening to the conversations around you, trying to slot yourself into one. You eventually start talking to Sebastian, your brother’s defensive partner, and it isn’t long until Matt comes back to the table, a beer in one hand and a glass in the other. He slides into the booth next to you, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off his body before he’s sliding the glass towards you. You pause your conversation to send him a small thank you before returning to Sebastian.

You aren’t so completely absorbed in the talk with Seb that you don’t notice Matt swing his arm over the back of the booth, and in turn, over your frame.

The smile appears on your face without thinking, laughing to yourself at the fact that Matt seemed to want to remain close to you. As close a respectfully possible. So, you decide to give him what he wanted. And you don’t stop touching him.

You figure out how to do it in more casual ways; your leg pressed against his, a hand falling onto his knee when you laugh. Your boldest move is gripping his thigh in order to lift yourself up and lean across the table to look at the picture of Grace and Anders new baby. And if your angle also happened to give Matt a great view of your ass… so be it.

Eventually, the conversation loops around to focus on you and you catch them up on your life; schooling, major moments, exciting events.

“Any boyfriends that your brother has to scare away?” It’s Ryan Pulock that asks that question, a teasing and causal jab, said with a smirk and a drink of his beer. You respond similarly with a laugh and sip of your gin and tonic before responding.

“Not at all.”

“That’s surprising,” Matt says. You turn towards him, hair flipping and your eyes connecting to his.

“Really? How so?” you question, a teasing tone attached to your words. Matt doesn’t take the bit, shrugging and taking a drink of his own beer.

“Just seems like the kind of thing you’d experience in college.”

“Well, I did experience,” the last words lightly emphasized to imply the actual meaning. “None of them seemed to stick. Although,” you say, laughing and turning back towards the rest of the group, “if you met some of the boys I went to my school, you’d understand.”

“Oh, I totally get that,” Cassie says. “College boys are terrible.”

“So true,” you laugh, causing a few titters to go up around the table, plus a little nudge towards Anders who – as one of the few former college boys – looked to be a little offended.

“So, if boys didn’t stick,” Cassie continues, “did any other experiences stick?”

“I learned how to play pool,” you reply with a shrug, the first new, non-academic development you came to your mind.

“Any good at it?” Barzy asks, a smirk on his face, one which you gladly return.

“I could probably take you Barzy,” you tease, a chorus of oohs going up around the table at your challenge.

“I’d like to see you try.”

“Well then, lead the way,” you laugh. Matt accepts your jab, scooching out of the booth and down the hallway leading to the bars pool tables, with you following quickly behind. The two of you manage to make it about half-way through your game before Marty and Palms appear.

“Me and Marty are gonna play a round after you,” Kyle explains, settling into the small high-top table off to the side.

“Want to make it a tournament? Winner against winner?” Mat asks, leaning over and taking his shot. Kyle and Matt agree, their competitive personalities taking the lead which in turn, sets off a competitive fire in you. Fueled by a desire to prove yourself to the boys. So, you really focus in on your shots. And if you happen to throw a few flirting words towards Barzy to trip him up… that was just strategy.

You end up winning, celebrating with a small victory dance as you and Barzy trade places with Matt and Kyle, the two of sit and chat while they play. Matt is focused on the game from what you can tell and a small part of you wants to think that Matt was trying to win so he could play against you. But maybe he was always this serious when it came to pool.

Matt does end up winning and you watch as he reracks, watch as Kyle drags Barzy off for ‘consolation drinks’, leaving you and Matt alone. It starts off innocent… well as innocent as the night had previously been. A few heated glances, a few lingering touches. But neither of you pushed the limits.

Until you decided that you had enough of this tiptoeing.

You wander around the table, examining the cues, mapping out your possibilities before glancing over your shoulder at Matt, casually leaning against the wall watching you.

“Hey Marty,” you call to him, voice light. “I’m don’t know what move to make. Could you help a girl out?”

“And why should I help you?”

“Because you’re always so nice to me,” you reply, shooting him a sweet smile.

Matt lets out a small sarcastic laugh but he does give into your request shortly after, pushing off the wall before wandering over to you. His hands are on your hips and he guides you to the correct side of the table before they move to your arms, his body leaning against you and practically draping over your frame as he helps you line up the shot. He tries to maintain a polite distance between your body and you resist the urge to push back against him. Once he’s placed you in the correct position, he lifts himself up to allow you to shoot. You line up are about to pull the trigger when he speaks again.

“Were the boys at school nice to you?”

The cue balls ricochet off each other as you fumble your shot. Not because of the words said but because of how they were said: that heavy seductive tone telling you exactly what he was implying. You don’t give an immediate reply, just a small huff of breath and a quick glare in his direction. He only shoots a smirk in your direction as you sulk back, leaving Matt to survey the pool table.

You can tell that he’s proud of himself, a little cocky now that he got you flustered for the first time tonight, forced you back into your old persona, the one that he knew well.

He shouldn’t have been so confident. Because while the old you might have let the embarrassment flood your system and turn you into even more of a mess, the new you fought back.

So, you wait, patiently, until Matt is the same position you were; shot lined up, pool cue aimed and drawn back before speaking again.

“They were very, very, nice,” you say in that same heavy seductive tone. And just like you expected, your words have the exact same effect on him, the aggressive clatter of his ruined shot echoing. The look he gives you is dangerous in all the right ways and so you push on.

“Sometimes,” you continue, raising yourself off the wall and wandering over to him, “they were a little too nice.” A pause as you come face to face with him, looking up at him with your best bedroom eyes. “If you know what I mean.”

If he does understand the implications behind your words, he doesn’t show it as he moves away from you to let you take your turn. The rest of the game continues without words although the tension between you has been raised. It almost becomes unbearable but you move ahead, focusing on your next move and the next after that. And to your complete and honest surprise, you end up winning, sinking the eight-ball in one smooth shot.

“Congratulations,” Matt says, walking towards you. “Figured out what you want as a prize?”

This time, the words are not tinged with any weight or tone that would suggest more. He asks you the question as casually as if he was asking you about the weather.

But you’ve been a part of this; a part of the teasing, a part of this cat-and-mouse game that you two had been caught in since the night started. And that remembrance gives you the answer.

“I want the truth,” you say, watching as one of Matt’s eyebrows twitches upward in question. “What were you really thinking when you first saw me tonight?”

You can see the confusion on his face when you put the question forward and the confusion flows into his voice as he starts to give you an answer.

“I thought that you looked a lot different than I remembered, grew up as I said and –”

“No,” you interrupt. “I mean, what were you thinking about me, before you knew it was me? Y’know – when you so brazenly walked up and offered to buy me a drink. What was going through your head then?”

This was a bad idea. Such a fucking bad idea. But you didn’t care. You wanted to know. No – you needed to know. Needed to know that you weren’t overreaching, that you weren’t reading too much into every word, every touch that had been exchanged.

You needed to know if Matt Martin wanted you… the same way you wanted him.

The silence that stretches between you is tighter than every before, a rubber band waiting to snap. You aren’t backing down. Matt isn’t budging, although from the way his jaw clenches, you feel as if he is biting back his words.

The truth.

As if he didn’t want to say it out loud. As if he knew that as soon as the truth was said, there was no controlling what would come next. So, you take the initiative again.

“If you want to continue this discussion somewhere a little more private, I’ll be waiting in the bathroom.” You start walking away, moving towards the private bathrooms near the far end of the bar, before turning back to him.

“Five minutes Marty. That’s your window to tell me the truth. That’s all you get. Five minutes.”

You leave him with the ultimatum, disappearing from his sight. You try to causally make your way to the bathrooms as to not draw attention to yourself. But as soon as you reach the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind you, the façade drops and a whoosh of breath escapes. Immediately, you rush over to the sink and splash some cold water on your neck in a feeble attempt to cool the blazing heat running through your body.

What the fuck where you thinking?

This was insane. You were insane. There was a line and you were sure that you had crossed it. Not only crossed it, you full on leapt over it. Made an embarrassment of yourself. You definitely couldn’t face Matt again after tonight. You’d have to leave New York, relocate to Los Angeles or even Europe just to put a full ocean between the two of you. There was no way that this night wasn’t completely ruined. You utterly fucked up, to the umpteenth degree; you fuc-

A knock on the door interrupts your racing thoughts, your head swiveling in the direction of the noise. In a rush, you remove your phone from your back pocket, realizing that you had been freaking out for almost five minutes. The allotted time you gave Matt. That meant that the person on the other side of the door could be another patron.

That’s what you believe until the second knock comes. This time accompanied by the husky tone of Matt Martin saying your name.

Your heartbeat upticks as you walk across the tile, the journey there feeling like it stretched for miles instead of a few short steps. The metal of the handle is cold against your skin as your hand reaches up towards the lock, the anxiety of whatever was to come vibrating through you.

The echo of the deadbolt unlocking hasn’t dissipated as Matt pushes into the room, slightly knocking you back before he spins and clicks the lock home again. You barely manage to get a single syllable out before Matt is turning towards you, his large hands cupping your face.

And then he is kissing you. Fiercely. Passionately. He’s. Kissing. You.

The action catches you so off-guard that you can’t stop the gasp that falls from your lips and Matt takes advantage, deepening the kiss as his large body presses you further into the room until you feel the back of your thighs hit the cold stone of the counter.

It takes you this long to fully register what is happening, for you mind to wrap around the turn of events, a situation that seconds ago you thought would remain in your wildest fantasies. But when you finally grasp that this is real, it is happening… your inhibitions disappear.

Your hands scramble against his body, gripping onto his shoulders, lifting into his hair, attempting to pull him closer, to pour as much passion into the kiss as he is. One hand falls to the counter as you try to hoist yourself up on to the marble to lessen the height advantage he has on you. It’s a desperate attempt, one that you blindly fail at. That is, until you feel Matt’s hands sink down and grip the back of your thighs.

Another gasp escapes you as he lifts you up onto the surface and your knees easily part to accommodate the size of his body between your legs as he leans his weight forward, pressing you back until you feel the cold mirror against your scalp.

Matt eventually removes his lips from yours but they don’t travel far. Instead, they press against your jawline, down your neck. It’s when they are pressed against your collarbones does he finally speak.

“You want to know what I thought about when I first saw you?” he asks and you have to force yourself to focus on his words instead of the way his body feels pressed against yours.

“I thought about how fucking gorgeous you looked. And I knew I wanted to take you home and see if you looked just as pretty underneath me,” he confesses, his mouth finally departing from your skin as he lifts himself up to lock eyes with you before continuing. “And then, when I realized it was you, the baby sister of my teammate? I felt fucking filthy for thinking those things.”

His hands trail downwards as his words fall, cascading over your ribs, the small of your back, your hips until they manage to slip into your back pockets, his fingers tightening around your ass, giving it a firm squeeze as he pulls you closer, your hands flying to his shoulders to keep your body upright.

“But that shy, sweet, innocent girl that I knew… she’s gone. Isn’t she? Instead, what I got was a fucking minx, who doesn’t know when to stop pressing her luck.”

His words spark that challenging fire in you and you somehow manage to regain your voice through the haze of his hands on you.

“You love it though,” comes your sharp retort, the grin playing on your face as your eyes spark with defiance. Matt mirrors your smirk, although you can tell that his is more casual, natural, like he’s been in this place before. His next words confirm that assumption.

“I do. I like brats like you,” he says and you barely catch the hardening of his gaze before he is manhandling you off the countertop, spinning your body abruptly, the front of your thighs hitting the hard edge as your hands fly forward to stop your momentum. His body presses against you and the whimper that leaves you is in direct response to the feeling of all of him against your back. He leans in, his breath ruffling your hair as he whispers hotly in your ear.

“I especially like putting them in their place.”

Your whimpers turn into a full-on moan as he rolls his hips against you and you can feel the hardness of him against your backside.

“What was that sweetheart?” he murmurs, his hips still moving as he hands starts to wander once again. “No more smart remarks for me?”

The only sound you can manage is more whines as you feel a hand sneak under the hem of your shirt, a shiver as his fingers climb their way up your torso before he takes one of your breasts in his grasp, squeezing, while his other hands remains on the edge of your jeans, running teasingly over the delicate skin of your hipbone.

“What happened baby? You were so confident before.”

“Fuck you,” you manage to breath out. The words were hollow, with no real malice behind them. They were just spoken in hopes of regaining some power. Or, at the very least, to ground yourself and keep your bearings on this battle that you were swiftly losing.

Matt sees through the remark with ease, his immediate response a dark chuckle before he speaks again.

“I’d much rather fuck you.”

You don’t have time to wrap your head around those words before the hand that was on your hip flies up to rest on your neck, fingers pushing your jaw upwards to angle your face back towards Matt so he can once again crash his lips to yours. He kisses you fiercely and you whimper as you feel the hand underneath your shirt start to sink lower and lower until it hits the waistline of your jeans, moving to deftly undo the button with a practiced ease. His hand dips underneath the fabric and you widen your stance without thinking to give him more access, causing him to chuckle against you.

Another gasp falls when his hand slips in between your thighs, cupping your still covered center. A groan rumbles from his chest as his fingers press against your slit, feeling how the dampness of your arousal has already flooded the soft cotton of your underwear.

“Fuck sweetheart,” he curses, lips and hand pulling away from your face and your head falls forward to its original position as he continues its movements against your core. “Ruined these already, hmm? Been dripping for hours?” The only response you give is another whimper as you roll your hips forward, chasing his fingers, a silent request for more which he doesn’t give.

“Come on kid, use your big girl words,” he mutters before moving his fingers the short distance upwards to press against your clit.

“Fuck,” you cry out at the feeling, the tension from the entire night culminating, heightening every move Matt makes against your body, every word he speaks. You hear him chuckle and it sends a hot wave of shame through your body, a sensation you weren’t familiar with but one that you were surprised worked so well in combination with your need.

“Not exactly what I meant.”

“Matt…” The word is elongated as the whimper of his name escapes you, another desperate attempt for mercy, for him to give you want you wanted. He doesn’t give in, his will apparently much stronger than yours. His fingers just lazily return to stroke your slit, winding you up more. It’s the steadily building desire with no payoff that finally makes you snap. “Godammit, Matt, stop fucking teasing me.”

As soon as those words are spoken, his fingers glide underneath the fabric of your panties before plunging into your center. You moan at the sudden intrusion, that full body rush of heat moving through you at the feeling of him inside you. It’s a split second before he moves, his fingers gently starting to pump into you, reaching deeper, the calloused skin of the heel of his palm catching against your clit. The cant of your hips forward is involuntary as you chase the feeling, a hiss escaping him as your movements push the sharp corner of the counter into the tan skin of his forearm, a momentary lapse in his control before he regains it.

“That desperate for me, huh?” he teases you, aiding your motions and pressing his hand against you. “This what you wanted sweetheart?”

“Want your cock more,” you manage to moan, this time your hips moving backwards to press your ass against his groin to punctuate your words.

“Oh yeah? Just want to feel my dick deep inside this perfect cunt?” You whine in response as you grind against Matt’s hand, wanting more, your blatant desire causing Matt to chuckle again. “Well, darling, you can have it. All you got to do is say please.”

The gasp escapes you as your eyes fly up to connect with Matt’s gaze in the mirror, the sound not only a response to his fingers managing to graze that one spot inside of you that made you see stars, but to his demand.

He wanted you to beg for it. To plead with him to give you want you wanted. To submit.

That’s one thing that you refused to do. You had spent all those years away building up your confidence and control that you weren’t about to relinquish it that easy. But then Matt moves again and you can’t stop your head from falling forward, another moan reverberating against the walls of the restroom.

“Come on babygirl. Let me hear you say it.”

It’s torture. It is utter torture, the feeling of his fingers moving within you, so good but not enough, not what you really wanted to the sense of relief you were chasing. The relief that would only come if you relinquished the last sliver of control you had.

“Please…”

The word is practically wrenched from you, like you had to grab it and drag it from your throat and past your lips. You feel Matt lean in, his body coming to drape over yours once more, his lips finding the familiar spot behind your ear.

“No.”

The word that came from him was the exact opposite of what you were expecting and the force of which your head snaps up to connect with Matt’s reflection is sharp and sudden. The bewildered desperate look in your eyes is a stark contrast to the calm and collected look in Matt’s.

“I don’t think you’ve earned it yet. In fact, I don’t know if you’ve even earned the right to cum.”

That suggestion is what does you in. The thought of all of this being for nothing? For you to be pushed this close to edge and not achieve a release of this surmounting pressure? You couldn’t handle that. The mere implication sends any last ounce of dignity you thought you had flying out the window.

“No. Please, please Matt. I need it. Please,” you unabashedly beg, words now falling freely.

“Well… since you asked so nicely.”

Matt moves again, his ministrations increasing as he drags you closer and closer to that edge. You can no longer bite back the moans that he pulls from your chest and you don’t try to stop them, too overwhelmed with pleasure to even keep your eyes open. You are so caught up in the feeling of Matt’s hand between your thighs that you don’t bother keeping track of the unoccupied one until it’s coming to wrap around your throat, pulling you upwards until your body is once again fully pressed against him.

The heat of him against your already scorching skin is almost unbearable and when Matt’s fingers guide your head to look forward into the mirror, you know he can feel your pulse jumping underneath his grasp.

“Open your eyes,” he whispers, the complete control he wielded giving you no option but to obey as your eyelids fly open and immediately connect to the reflection of you and Matt in the mirror. You were an absolute mess: pupils blown, hair mussed, chest heaving. But you couldn’t even bother focusing on your appearance. All you can do is let your gaze trail down to Matt’s arm, seeing where it disappeared underneath the denim of your jeans. Watching how the muscles flexed as his fingers reached deeper, curling to constantly graze that damnable spot that made full body shudders run through you.

“Look how fucking perfect you look,” Matt groans into your hair, his movements never ceasing. “Come on sweetheart. Show me how pretty you look when you cum.”

His gentle demand is what sends you over the edge, your orgasm hitting you like a freight train, mouth opening into a near silent scream. One of your hands flies to his forearm, nails digging into his skin in a vice like grip while the other tightens around the solid marble edge of the countertop – a feeble attempt to steady yourself. You were certain that if Matt’s arms weren’t tight around you, you would have collapsed to the floor.

The vibration of Matt moaning at the feeling of your pussy clamping down on him adds another delectable sensation against your body. You do not fight it when Matt’s grip on your jaw angles your head back so he can capture your lips in a feverish kiss, swallowing every moan and whimper you give as your high fades.

His fingers slowly, painstakingly withdraw from you before he breaks the kiss, his hand moving against your oversensitive core to push your underwear back in place before attempting to wipe off his finger on the cotton. It’s a completely lost cause based on how soaked you are, another laugh escaping Matt as his hand finally retreats from the confines of your jeans. He buttons them back up, pressing a soft kiss against your shoulder before moving away from you.

A panicked part of you thinks that he’s going to leave you here, alone in a bar bathroom as you fight to regain composure. But instead, he just moves to the sink next to you, turning on the tap to wash his hands. The half-hearted huff of laughter escapes you but you can barely dwell on it, instead focusing on taking deep breaths in order to recover.

Eventually, you lift your body up and examine your disheveled appearance. It takes another beat before you start to piece yourself back together: smoothing your hair down, readjusting your clothes, wiping away any errant makeup from your skin. It is when you are taking a drink of water to soothe your parched throat does Matt reappear behind you.

“I was right,” he says. “You do look just as pretty underneath me,” he explains, recalling his confession to you at the very beginning of this bathroom rendezvous. You roll your eyes at his cocky words, your previous confidence returning as you spin to face him.

“I look even prettier on my knees,” you quip, falling back into that teasing energy that led the two of you here. A laugh rumbles through Matt as he takes your chirp in stride.

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Well then, I guess you’ll just have to take me home to find out.”

“What about your brother?” Matt asks, reminding you where you were and who you accompanied to this bar. Your non-committal hum is your only response as your eyes trail lazily towards the bathroom door before returning to Matt.

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

#nicole writes #.....oops #matt martin fic #matt martin imagine #matt martin smut #new york islanders fic #new york islanders imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine

234 notes · View notes

kyndredravenstories · 1 month

Text

Eyes of Infinity: Delirium Chapter 7

Hello, I have been posting my work on AO3 and recently decided to venture here to Tumblr. Please note: This story is 18+. No minors. Please read tags carefully. Link to AO3 below but I will also be posting the chapters here.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53564641/chapters/148839892#workskin

Pairing: Sylus/Female MC with some elements of Xavier/Female MC

Genre: Romance, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst, Adventure, Smut, Porn with Big Plot and Big Feelings

Content Warning (For the entire fic): Explicit sexual content, spoilers and alterations to existing lore and cards/memories/tender moments/secret times, size kink, size difference, vaginal sex, cunnilingus, anal sex, fingering, all kinds of fingering, elements of consensual somno, dom!Sylus, jealousy, possessive!Sylus, Mephisto stalking, typical game violence, battle and combat

Summary: To love him meant stepping over the threshold and crossing into darkness. To be with him meant accepting the lure of the shadows. And to protect him from betrayal meant sacrifice. I knew not how, only that I would not let time sever our paths ever again.

Previous Chapters: Ch 1 / Ch 2 / Ch 3 / Ch 4 / Ch 5 / Ch 6

It's dark in the N109.

Always.

Even though the windows in the mansion have no curtains, the only lights here are false ones. No matter what hour of the day it is, only the warm amber lamplight illuminates the rooms around me. The city lights from outside peek through the glass here and there, flashing red, green, or a frigid blue.

It's always cold in the mansion; it's how Sylus prefers it. Not surprising, really, considering how his body always feels as hot as a simmering furnace. Unlike me. I'm always freezing, it seems, and I definitely prefer a warmer setting.

Wandering around in this falsely lit, cold, and absolutely silent home makes me feel like I am trapped in some kind of bunker during an apocalypse. I miss going on missions in the city. I miss the warmth and humidity of the afternoon haze in Linkon. I miss the sun and the fresh air. I miss waking to my alarm in the morning, and I miss the raucous sounds of city life.

On my fourth day here, I start to lose the concept of night and day, and my body begins to protest the maltreatment. I'm still recovering from my injuries, and that makes it worse. Exhaustion finds me at the most unpredictable times. I start falling asleep while standing, sitting, even talking. A few times, Luke and Kieran - now acting as my escorts around the mansion - have to prop me up to keep me from falling over. This lasts most of the day. I float in and out of awareness, limping from room to room and dozing in-between.

I wake from one such nap when I hear motion upstairs and wonder if Sylus is up and about. I check the phone he gave me for the time.

1:14 PM

While I wait for him to come down, I stop by the dining room to pick at the table of food there. Though I've never seen anyone in the mansion other than Luke and Kieran, somehow the food and drink here is always replenished and fresh. Once, Sylus hinted at there being a chef on the payroll, but thus far I haven't met anyone else who works here. Another mystery that gives this mansion a kind of haunted vibe.

Eventually, Sylus emerges from his bedroom and approaches me wearing his full leather riding gear. My eyes rove over the knee high black boots, stylish jacket, and half gloves. He looks incredible, and I can't help but appreciate the way these clothes accent his broad shoulders, slim waist, and exquisite ass. He notices me looking of course, and I quickly look away with my ears on fire.

"Good morning," I say even though it's the middle of the day. He grabs a plate and drops a few tasty looking items onto it. We sit down to eat together, neither one of us speaking for a time. It's a pleasant, companionable, silence in which I try to reconcile why I am feeling so anxious about Xavier coming to pick me up tonight.

In the end, I must be honest and admit that I don't want to leave yet. But, I have to. The investigation must continue. We must stop Noxis and find an antidote for LUMINIS. Not to mention, I'm still a Hunter. I have duties I must fulfill to protect Linkon. I'd left the city to attend a symposium and disappeared. I needed to report to Captain Jenna, maybe even come clean about what Xavier and I had been up to for the last several months.

Just when I start worrying about how I'm going to accomplish all of this, a large gloved hand appears in my line of vision.

"Come for a joy ride with me," Sylus says, his expression unreadable. I take his hand, letting him pull me up out of my chair.

"Where?" I ask, rubbing at my eyes. Damn it, the exhaustion is about to hit me again.

"Does it matter?"

Not really. I'd go anywhere if it's with him. Especially when he asks me anything while the corners of his eyes crinkle into a special kind of smile I've only seen him direct my way.

"I'd love to go, but I'm not exactly dressed for it." I point to my sweats - or his, rather. "And I'm pretty tired. Not sure how I'll manage to hang onto you."

Sylus tilts his head, running his hand over the bandages on my shoulder and arm. He tilts up my chin. "You look pale," he observes.

I can't reconcile a Sylus that's actually worried about me. It's too surreal. But, his frown during these moments speaks for itself. No matter how naïve I might be, there's no way I'm misreading his intent.

"But, you'll be fine," he ruffles the hair at the top of my head, careful not to touch my wound. "Just cling to me like you did yesterday." His voice drops, and he leans in to murmur in my ear. "Use your thighs. You remember how that felt, right?"

I take a few steps back, my whole face catching fire. His words bring on flashbacks that I've been trying to keep at bay for a while.

"But, I'm still not dressed for it."

He runs his hand through his hair with a smirk then holds it out to me again. Still sheepish, I take it. As we walk upstairs, I ask about Xavier and how he plans to have him pick me up. As frequently happens, Sylus doesn't answer me. By the time I'm ready to pinch him in frustration, we make it to his bedroom. An organized grouping of dark red boxes and unmarked paper bags rest on the floor in front of the bed.

Sylus gestures for me to go to them. As I step in that direction, he settles comfortably on the leather armchair in front of his work desk, crossing one leg over the other. Mephisto, who's been sleeping on his perch, caws and flutters to his master's shoulder. Sylus rests one elbow on the chair and looks at me expectantly. Confused, I look towards the boxes and begin opening them one by one.

Shirts, pants, winter gear, boots, guns, a belt and holster, a large gray duffel bag, and...I can't help but gasp when I open the final box.

"Oh," I breathe, completely taken aback. It's a black floor length silk dress with crisscrossing straps and a thick elegant skirt. On the front is a stitching of the night sky. Stars and planets twinkle up at me in the form of precious gems - diamonds, rubies, sapphires, and emeralds. Below the stars, a shimmering river flows off into a distant horizon. It's quite possibly the most beautiful dress I've ever seen.

I glance at Sylus. His eyes are intent, expectant.

"Try it on," he says.

"Now?"

His silence is confirmation of his wishes. When I hesitate, he smiles behind his hand. "Do you need me to help you?"

I straighten my shoulders, carefully putting the dress back in the box. "I thought you wanted to go for a ride."

He chuckles then stands up. I resist backing up as he approaches me, his hands in his pockets. "Raincheck," he teases, stopping right in front of me.

I nod.

"Go get ready, then. Don't keep me waiting."

Picking up one of the boxes, I rush to sidestep around Sylus and go into the bathroom. Though I know it's absolutely pointless to do so, I lock the door. Once inside, I lean on the sink and take a deep breath. After calming my racing heart, I start getting dressed. I pull on some black leather pants and a thick knitted top. Over it, I don a warm leather jacket. My hair is a royal mess, so I borrow one of Sylus's combs to tame it into a single braid.

By the time I'm finished, the exhaustion is hitting me again. I sit down to put on a pair of boots, hoping the dizziness will pass soon.

Someone calls my name.

The next thing I know I'm waking up. I'm still sitting on the bench in the bathroom, but Sylus is now kneeling in front of me, stroking the side of my face. His lovely mouth is marred with a frown.

"Oh, sorry," I mumble. "I didn't mean to doze off."

He helps me to my feet, steadying me when I stumble.

"The darkness can be difficult to get used to for some," he says. "Ready to go?"

I nod, and we make our way to the front door. It occurs to me that I'd never stepped outside of the mansion. Somehow, I'd never been curious to see where we actually were. I let Sylus lead me down an expansive concrete driveway to where his bike awaits. My eyes go wide when I recognize the vehicle.

"Is that...?"

Sylus raises a brow at the surprise in my voice.

"It's not a 380HM...no way..."

A Hunter bike. Not just that, but a prototype model that not even UNICORNS could afford to equip their Hunters with.

Sylus huffs. "Don't lump me in with such low class mediocrity."

I don't question that statement, but excitement buzzes through me. I've driven a Hunter bike once or twice, and it was a thrilling experience. If this is something even more advanced, I can't wait to experience it, especially since I trust that Sylus is more than capable of handling it as a driver.

I smile when he hands me an onyx helmet. I mount up behind him, and as I try to figure out the best way to hang onto him without aggravating my injuries, his dark Evol wraps around my back, my knees, and my torso. I gasp when it presses me against him. It's as though something is tying us together.

"Don't worry, kitten, I won't let you fall," comes his promise, much clearer than I expect. The helmets are radio linked so we can hear each other without issue. Experimentally, I try to relax. Even when I'm not putting much strength into holding on, his Evol keeps me steady. I lean against him, then, releasing all my anxieties from earlier. We have mere hours left together, and I want to enjoy every minute I have.

The bike roars to life beneath us and Sylus guns it into overdrive without preamble. In a single breath, we are skyrocketing through the darkness at a speed I can barely process. Lights blur into multi-colored streaks as we soar down the highway. I feel every rise and fall - every thrill, every twist and turn - without fear, knowing that Sylus's Evol holds me firmly in place. I let his body heat melt into me, relishing the feeling of gliding through the wind like a fledgling hawk learning to fly.

We wing past skyscrapers of every shape and size, ascending higher and higher up a natural slope until we reach a bald hill. We skid to a stop, and as we take off our helmets I smell burned rubber. A massive radio tower spears into the ground before us, extending high into the sky well above the clouds. It's seen better decades. It's body is worn and tired, the metal eroded after years of weathering Metaflux storms.

"Where are we?" I ask.

"Just a good view." He gestures around us to the panorama. The Underworld, a city with no sunlight and no moonlight.

On this hill, we sit like eagles perched above the sprawling buildings and towers of N109. In this endless night, the glass and polymer looks like a myriad of shining mirrors, reflecting a world that's a kaleidoscope of colors. Signs, brands, and advertisements compete for real estate and blaze against the shadows, so bright they give off their own blinding aura. A few high tech nightclubs flash and rave among the rooftops, the illuminated canopies above them blinking in time with booming melodies. Silhouettes of people ebb and flow behind the tinted windows. The conflicting rhythm of the music pulses against the silence of the streets, a heartbeat of this lonely and frozen cityscape.

Sylus observes all this with an aloof and ruthless gaze, ever searching, ever calculating. His breathtaking silver hair reflects the ever changing colors of the city. A King examining his domain. He'd brought me here for the view, but there is no enjoyment in his eyes. They dart from building to building, his pupils narrowed as though he can see through all the glass to the happenings behind the walls. Rooting out all secrets, all dealings that would seek to take power from him.

It's a degree of control I can't fathom. It seems harsh to be at the top of all this. Lonely.

I call his name without meaning to.

When he turns to look at me, his pupils dilate again and his expression softens. It's a surreal transformation I can hardly comprehend. We don't speak, but a wealth of something passes between us as we stare into each other's eyes. I reach out to him, and he helps me turn to hop off the motorcycle. His hands grasp my waist, and he lifts me up. His forearm settles under me, holding me up and in place so my face is above his.

There's so much that I want to say, but no words come. I press my hand to the side of his face, moving some strands of his hair away from his cheeks. At last, the line of his lips softens into his special smile.

"If I asked you to stay out of the dealings with Noxis, would you?"

I take a deep steadying breath. "I can't."

"Then make me a promise."

I nod, and the wings of his brows lower over hard ruby orbs.

"Prioritize your vengeance. Show no mercy. You're not fighting Wanderers. These are humans, and the depth of human cruelty is immeasurable."

"I'm not a killer," I whisper.

"You are. Everyone is. Whether you admit it or not." The lights around us shift and churn, lighting up his eyes. They seem to glow as he speaks, and goosebumps break out all over my arms and shoulders. "It's simple. When someone would take from you, you must take double. When someone would betray you, you rip their treachery out at the root."

"I understand that's how it is here, but in Linkon it's--"

"Different?" He makes a sound of bitter amusement. "No, sweetie. A little sunshine doesn't change human nature. The monsters just wear masks."

I shudder at his words.

"When someone shoots at you, you shoot them in the head. Not the arm. When someone tries to capture you, you break their neck. Not their leg." His free hand twines into the hair at my nape, fingers squeezing until he has a firm grip. "Do you understand, Ellara?"

"Yes."

I can't promise to be ruthless. I've never had to be. But, the message is clear. This is no longer just an investigation or a side project. The night at the Mythe made it clear that these people weren't playing around. If I don't take a stronger stance, I'm going to lose my life. And if there's something I realized as I was writhing in pain and agony from the LUMINIS, it's that I don't want to die.

I must be stronger. I must be more clever. I can't continue being reckless.

Sylus lets my body slide down to the ground, but he doesn't let go of me when I'm standing. He looks down at me from above, his expression once again a complete mystery. My arms wrap around his waist underneath his leather jacket. It's like slipping into a hot bath. Biting the corner of my lower lip, I tug him down towards me.

Our lips meet and meld, our tongues reuniting soon after. Pleasure zings through my nerve endings as he tugs on my hair to deepen our kiss. His tongue circles and circles then pushes, deeper and deeper. I can't breathe, and I don't care. He can take my last breath if that's what he wants. As long as he keeps touching me, caressing me, driving me to new heights of bliss.

We hit a single wavelength both in mind and body. As he pulls me back up against him, my legs wrap around his waist. He gives a growl of approval and draws my bottom lip into his mouth. I graze my teeth against his tongue as his hips thrust against me. He rests my butt up on the bike seat so his hands are free to lift up my top.

We're all alone now on this abandoned hill. The world, the lights, the sounds all fall away as I drown in this man. I gasp his name when he grinds against me. He laughs against my skin, pressing a kiss against my breast. Our joining is far from elegant or romantic. It's frenzied and rushed, like a pair of beasts in rut. It's a dizzying mess of fumbling to take off clothes and undo buckles; a hurried need for oneness that won't be put off or denied.

He bites and I scratch, though he's always careful not to go too far. Always holding back, just enough to make me wonder if I'll ever be able to handle him when he loses that unyielding self-control. A fire, unchecked. I yearn to burn in it.

After the haze of lust is spent, he helps me back into my clothes. Once again, the ruthless King is a sweet and doting lover. He checks my bandages, brushing silken lips against the swollen stitches on my shoulder. I buckle his belt, adjusting the holstered guns against his hips.

A sudden rush of anxiety and sadness makes my head spin.

My time with him is ending.

I have to let him go, and this time I really have absolutely no idea when we will see each other again.

"Sylus," I whisper, not trusting my voice not to break. "I...do I have to...leave?"

I never could have imagined that I would be so bold. Bold and foolish. Clingy.

Shame fills me, but it cannot override my sadness.

"Can't I fight Noxis by your side?"

He observes me from above, and I wonder if I am just another piece of the King's domain. My words are heavy and full of feeling, yet his eyes remain a hard glimmering ruby. Unwavering. Unmoved.

My pride rebels. But, what good is pride when I am being separated from someone that I...

That I...what?

The answer comes to me, yet I deny it. Completely. Entirely.

The truth my heart reveals is something that can never come to pass.

Not ever.

My hands ball into fists.

"What is it that you want from me, Sylus?"

I'm about to try to back out of the trap I've just stepped into when suddenly he moves forward and pulls me into a tight hug. I hear his heart beating against my ear. Steady as always. Controlled. Yet when he nuzzles into my neck, his voice is strained.

"What do I want?" he echoes. His words thin out into a whisper. "You should already know."

I shiver, and my heart screams.

Screams and screams.

My resolve shatters.

I hug him back, my arms shaking.

"I don't want to leave," I say in a rush. My eyes sting. "You want to fight them alone? You want me to stay out of this? Are you crazy? Are you mad?" My hand slaps his arm. "You frustrating, infuriating, impossible asshole! Can't you see how worried I am about you?"

He gives a low, exasperated chuckle. "Finally honest, kitten? Took you long enough." He tightens his embrace, catching my wrist in his large hand. "Yes, yes. Being tied to a bad man like me is beyond reasonable."

"It's completely unreasonable!" I shout at him, tears running waterfalls down my cheeks.

When he backs away, his eyes are soft, twinkling with mischief and something else, something I haven't seen there before. He thumbs away my tears.

"Shedding tears now? How endearing."

"Don't treat me like a child," I pout, knowing that I'm the one really being unreasonable now. "Or a kitten. Or a dove. Or whatever the hell else you come up with."

He holds me as I calm down, and when I can think straight, he asks, "So? Do you still not know what I want from you?"

I shake my head, stubborn. I don't want to rely on assumptions. I want to hear him say it. Clearly. So I can't doubt my sanity when we're apart.

He chuckles and presses a kiss to my forehead. "You should know that I adore you," he murmurs, the red in his eyes languid and his voice a tender caress. "There is no love purer than mine."

#love and deepspace #sylus #sylus/mc #sylusposting #sylus x mc #sylus love and deepspace #love and deepspace fanfic #eyes of infinity delirium #lnds #lnds xavier #lnds fanfic #lnds sylus

11 notes · View notes

mylevisdontfitanymore · 11 months

Note

Steve and Bucky retire and they both develop a belly, but a different kind of belly, because they spend their time doing different things and over-indulging in different ways. One gets a soft and jiggly food belly from constantly eating rich and unhealthy foods, and the other gets an absolute keg of a beer belly from all the drink they're suddenly consuming after so long of being straight edged

Due to your recent intox posting, I can't stop thinking about Steve or Bucky stumbling home after a night on the town (maybe Steve has a meet-up with the other Avengers, maybe Bucky goes out to watch a baseball game at a bar or something) and he ends up overindulging a little bit too much and he ends up with a bloated, sloshy tummy that his shirt barely covers anymore as he drunkenly stumbles home, holding onto his shifting middle for support, and when he gets home his partner, who has been waiting up for him to come home, sees his very drunken state and his swollen belly and maybe even the bottle his still holding in his hand as he walked home, and he plays with his lovers tummy for the rest of the night while he drunkenly moans on the couch or on the bed, too consumed by alcohol and pleasure to do much else but enjoy the sensations, and maybe the sober one manages to pump a little bit more alcohol into him to make the night last, and who is he, in his drunken, stupid, submissive state, to do anything other than take everything he is given? I don't know, I can't stop thinking about it

I have an embarrassing amount of prompts that are delicious that I want to get to, but you two have clearly picked up on the fact that I'm hyperfocused on beer bellies right now and...

I have to get my thoughts out 🥴

And my thoughts happen to combine elements of both of your prompts, so here we go, I'm lumping them both together:

Unbeta'd as always. Stucky belly kink nonsense. Warnings for stuffing, bloating, alcohol consumption, intox kink, weight gain, tight clothes, one night stands (👀), etc.

These big-bellied versions of Steve and Bucky meet as strangers.

They're both out for the night; Steve is at the bar with a group of friends, socializing, mostly drinking, having fun getting buzzed, and doing some dancing... well, Steve is stumbling and shuffling more than dancing because when he's sober, he's not much of a dancer, and when he's drunk he's still hopeless but he's at least also shameless and so he tries a little harder; Bucky is by himself, he's not at the bar for the socializing, not for the dancing, not for the drinking, instead he's here for the food. Bucky has planted his widening ass in a booth, letting people think he's waiting for his date, or that he's been stood up, while really he works through his own mission. Plowing through rich, greasy, fattening bar food. The worst kind of stick-to-your-ribs food that tastes so good.

Steve is doing his own indulging, downing sugary, pretty drinks without a care right alongside anything strong and rich. He's got a soft spot for anything that gets him drunk and isn't afraid of what tastes like it won't get him drunk, no matter if it makes him stick out when they occasionally end up at a straight bar.

They're not at a straight bar tonight.

There's only so long they can both exist in the same queer bar before they find each other... with such obscene, indulgent vibes coming off of them, they're drawn together like magnets.

Bucky has just begun to really sweat, damp heat gathering between his legs, in the arched small of his back, under his arms, and beneath his growing moobs yet above his ever-rounding belly. Bucky can feel himself blushing all the way up to his ears. Steve has been sweating, he's been sort-of dancing but mostly he's been ferrying drinks from the bar back to his friends, taking more than his fair share of drinks as the price for elbowing and shouldering his way through the crowd. Steve can feel his blush spread down his neck, covering his chest, and beginning to reach his beach ball belly. Bucky's gut is throbbing with the music, stretched, heavy, and solid; Steve's belly is throbbing with the music, stretched, heavy, and sloshing.

Bucky is groaning, one hand on his complaining stomach, while the other stuffs in more thick potatoe wedges into his open mouth, muffling himself when Steve can't take it anymore and swaggers over. The beer making him bold. His eyes have been full of Bucky since he wandered in. Normally, Steve doesn't let himself gawk at strangers, but... he couldn't stop himself with Bucky. He walked in, wide. He wedged himself in between the bodies of strangers, set himself up a tab, ordered, and sat down. Like it was a fucking restaurant. He walked away from Steve at the bar with an ass that shook. He. has. cake. He's been shoved into those jeans. And now he hasn't stopped eating.

Steve hasn't stopped drinking.

Every mouthful that Bucky's had, he's matched. Now, he can feel his gut weighing down on his belt, pushing his jeans down so far that he's sure if he went to the bathroom (again), he could lift up the keg that is his tummy and see the top of his blond pubic hair peaking out. And he knows well enough without looking, without needing to go to the bathroom, that his gut is pushing his shirt up. He looks pregnant. He looks bloated as fuck. His tight going out shirt is surely creaking at the seams underneath the pounding music. He sloshes with the sway of his hips; he can't help it, he wants Bucky, his body language screams so.

Steve slides into Bucky's booth.

Startled, Bucky's head jerks up. He's got dipping sauce smeared around the corners of his mouth.

Steve's mouth goes dry, he needs another drink. He wants to drink Bucky in. And he does.

"What're you drinking?" Steve manages to stumble out the words. This guy is so much more than a great, dump truck ass and a wide, swelling belly. His face is gorgeous. Chubby cheeks. A doubled chin. Big, doe eyes.

"Uh," Bucky nearly spits out the food in his mouth. He barely swallows it down, almost groaning in front of the handsomest, prettiest man he's ever seen. He's blond. He's-

Big.

His shoulders are huge, his arms, too, and... his muscles have nothing on his gut. That gut is taut, stretching his shirt to its limit, and, oh God, pressing into the table of the booth.

Steve waits patiently, hiccuping behind a hand that he lifts to his mouth.

Bucky swears he can hear his gut slosh.

"Coke," Bucky answers, stuffing another wedge into his face.

"Rum and coke?" Steve shoots back, watching the cutie eat. He can't stop himself. Jesus. The table is cutting into him, his gut is expanding over it, trying to reach his plate and weigh down his thick legs like it, too, wants him to sit here forever and keep eating, keep growing.

A little more color, a little more sweat appears on his face. He licks his lips. "Hold the rum."

Steve feels his dick pulse in his unforgiving, tight jeans. It has nothing to do with the desperate need to piss, all the drinking he's doing. "Diet?" He risks, asking.

Is Bucky insane or is this more than flirting? Why does this feel like, like foreplay?

"No," Bucky risks thumping his hand over his belly, forcing out a drawn-out, low, "ooof," from his chest, "not diet."

"Good," the other man's lips curl into a smirk.

And with that...

He's gone.

"I didn't get your name," Steve announces as he slides back into the slightly sticky booth seat, another tall, tall, cold glass of coke in one hand and another rich beer in the other. "I'm Steve."

"St-" Bucky quickly cuts his name short with a burp, forced out by leaning forward and grasping the coke he set in the center of the table. Steve's eyes must widen. There must be a damn neon sign over his head flicking on, reading HORNY because...

Fuck.

The way his gut gets wedged between his fat chest and fat thighs makes it look bigger. Rounder. Heavier.

Steve nearly moans.

He swallows a few quick swallows of alcohol instead, dribbling some down his chin. Messy. It might be his imagination, but... the other man looks more interested as he wipes it away with the back of his hand.

"I'm Bucky."

"Bucky," Steve echoes. He looks like a Bucky. Big. Chunky. Heavy. Something about that is Bucky.

Something about him is something Steve wants. Voraciously. He wants him.

Bucky can't fucking believe this guy came back, he thought, at first, maybe that he hadn't noticed all of Bucky's gluttony and weight from across the room, then he got closer and he really saw him and had second thoughts. But, still spoke to him to be polite (and to have an excuse to get away). Whatever. Bucky wasn't here to meet people. He's here to gorge. He's here to sit alone and slowly, torturously feel his arousal ramp up alongside his fullness until the point that he can't take it, about to pop, on the cusp of not being able to waddle his ass back home. That's what he wanted. To feed until he was bulging and having a hard time catching his breath, his entire center of gravity thrown off. But.

Steve came back.

Steve's here.

Steve's looking at him like he wants him to eat more.

Bucky can eat a little more, for Steve. He smacks his lips, chomping down more greasy, fattening food, shifting in his seat with an overburdened groan.

Steve bites his lip, then squeezes his glass tight before he downs half his drink in one go. The tension is unbearable.

"You want a refill?" Steve's voice is thick, low.

"If you're offering," Bucky bats his lashes.

Steve comes back with another coke and a platter of fried mozzarella sticks.

Bucky can not hold in his moan.

Steve really should go to the bathroom. Not because he's gotta piss right the fuck now. But because he needs to take care of himself. Jesus Christ. The look on Bucky's face at the proposition of more food. The sound that comes out of him. He's a blimp. Huge. Getting huger. Where is he putting all of that. Like, it's obvious, but. How? How does he still have room!?

Steve doesn't think he can be any more turned on and inappropriate for public but he's fucking wrong.

He's never seen someone put down food like Bucky does all of the sudden. He plows through those fried mozzarella sticks. Horking it down fast enough that there's no way he tastes them.

"Well," Bucky pauses to belch, slapping his gut, which sounds impossibly solid, like a fucking basketball (even though he's much bigger than a basketball now), "I think I'm finished, what about you?"

Steve opens his mouth. He shuts it. He's stunned.

Bucky, kittenish, grins, "do you wanna have another or can I get you outside now?"

"Uh-" despite the liquid courage, Steve is suddenly stupidly unsmooth.

"Maybe another?" Bucky signals for the server he's apparently wrapped around his finger in the few hours he's been eating like he's trying to prep for a long winter, "another for blondie?" The server shouts something over the music. Bucky laughs, holding his shaking gut in place, and nods.

Apparently, the server asked if he wanted to make it a pitcher because...

Steve is served a goddamn pitcher as if that's normal.

Jesus.

Bucky watches the sweet surprise spread over Steve's face, then he watches something like determination replace it. Almost like he thinks it's a challenge that he needs to rise to. It might be. Bucky licks his lips, relaxing back under the gurgling weight of his gut and waiting. Watching.

The -

Oh, God.

The movement of Steve's throat is hypnotic. He swallows and swallows and swallows and swallows and swallows. He chugs. He fucking downs the damn pitcher like it's a normal glass. Like that's a thing regular people that aren't human kegs - human barrels - can do.

Bucky either really is food drunk or has passed out into a food coma because, impossibly, he watches Steve's skin-tight shirt inch up the pale, flushed dome of his belly. Exposing the swollen, swelling shape to his greedy eyes.

He's fucking huge.

Steve has the hiccups the moment he takes the empty pitcher away from his lush, inciting mouth. The hiccups make him slosh. The hiccups make his face burn redder. The hiccups make Bucky want to jostle and fuck him until he has to beg for it to stop, too much, too full, too many bubbles, too much bloat, bursting at the seams with burp after burp.

Christ.

"Coming?" Steve's eyes are heavily lidded and suggestive as he shoves himself up from the booth, wobbling and ungraceful on his feet.

"Hell yeah, I am," Bucky huffs, working around the weight of his own spherical gut.

Immediately, once they stumble out into the darkness of the gross alley outside the bar, they're on each other. Not intentionally. They've both lost their balance. Their guts are the first things to touch. They rub together, grind together, between their bodies. Bucky has to put his hands on Steve, no matter if they still have a few stray crumbs and smears of grease.

Bucky moans, he's shoved against the brick wall. His ass mounds up behind him. Steve's pressing so hard into him. He was already panting, now he really can't fucking breathe. He wants to moan more, but he can't. He's so hot. It feels so hot.

He pushes Steve's shirt up that last little bit, ruining any shred of modesty that he might've had before and-

Holy shit.

Steve groans into his mouth, guttural.

His stomach-

His stomach is hot and hard.

Tight.

Holy. shit.

His stomach is so solid, so tight, and so hard. This. This is a goddamn beer gut. He feels like a keg. He feels as solid as a fucking barrel of whiskey. Wooden, he's so hard and tight. Bucky can't dig his fingers into the shiny dome of his gut at all.

They kiss, lips buzzing and raw, grope, hands as greedy as their appetites, and moan, making the most obscene sounds. Until somebody yells at them to get the fuck out of here and into a room.

Steve orders an Uber on his phone, hands shaking and unhappy to not be touching Bucky. Bucky is so soft. So plush. So fat. Even as stuffed as he must be, there are inches of squishy, thick blubber. He's burning hot. Steve can dig his fingers into Bucky and get a grip into him at the same time that he can feel the pulsing, stretched, unbearably tight shape of his stomach beneath. This is not his first time stuffing himself silly on bar food. And it will not be the last if Steve gets any say beyond tonight.

In the Uber on the way to Steve's apartment, they sit so close. Inappropriately close. There's no mistaking what this is. This is a one night stand.

Without anything more to eat, anything added to their overfull tanks to keep them busy, the bloat has really started kicking in. Their shirts don't stand a chance at covering their bellies anymore. Steve's shirt is creaking and even beginning to make ripping sounds when he shifts. Bucky had to pop his pants button open before his tummy busted it all on its own. Their guts are hanging out of their clothes - bursting out of their clothes. And they're sitting so close together, squished in despite having the entire backseat to themselves, that the overheated hot swells of their hips and the bowed out sides of their bellies push into each other. Bucky is overflowing, his fat fucking lovehandles, stretch marked and red. Steve is ready to burst, the sides of his gut actively getting new stretch marks.

The heat of their bodies is making them melt together.

Melting.

Panting.

Burping.

Groaning.

It takes them an embarrassingly long time to pile out of the Uber - sloshing, gurgling, and swearing, working around the swells of their heavy bellies - and Bucky swears when they're both out, the body of the car bounces back up, relieved from their oppressive weight. No longer pressed down onto the tires.

Jesus.

They might as well roll themselves into Steve's apartment building, into the elevator, and through his front door.

As hot as hooking up in the entryway is... it's not an option for them. They're too big. Bloated and wide, and the two of them can't hardly breathe in that little space, no matter how desperate they are for each other.

They waddle the long way down to Steve's bedroom, in dire need of spreading out, dominating the extra space. Expanding. Growing.

Steve rips off his ruined shirt, the seams having already begun to give way and shoved Bucky's shirt over his head quickly. He can't have him staying clothed. He needs to see all of that. He needs to make a feast of him. Their belts are whipped off, shoes kicked off, and pants torn down, too.

Completely bare, they are so engorged. Both of them. Massive.

Bucky's gut sounds like a washing machine as it gurgles and digests his feast; Steve's belly keeps sloshing and bubbling, all that alcohol mixing. Intoxicating. They're both fucking drunk as shit. Food drunk. Drunk dunk. About to be fuck drunk.

Fumbling over each other, the noises don't stop, moaning, burping, heavy breaths, hiccuping, swearing, groaning, sloshing, they can't stop even as unsteady as they are. Unsteady and rubbing on each other. Grinding. Starting with Steve on top of Bucky, pressing him deep into the soft mattress because of all his mass. Mass. His gut. His gut is massive, hanging heavily and sloshing underneath him. But eventually, they move to lying side by side when all the pressure becomes unbearable. Bucky pressed so hard into the bed, his tummy so sensitive. Steve's poor belly squished too tight again Bucky's excessive softness. Oof. They both feel like they're explode. Side by side, it's not so much, but there's still the threat. They're gonna pop! All that food, all that drink, all that alcohol, all that bloat, all that belly!

It's obscene.

Practically drooling, fuck drunk as they are, they get lost in the heaviness and tightness and the contrast between them, despite the fact that they're both as round as beach balls. Heavy as lead weights. Steve is tight and hard, sloshing with all the liquid practically funneled into him. Meanwhile, Bucky is tight with all the food he's stuffed down, but he's also soft. Fat. Fat. Fat. He doesn't slosh. There's no fucking room inside him to slosh. All the sugary, non-diet soda he's had has been soaked up by landslide of the carbs inside him.

Steve can't get over how fat Bucky is.

Bucky can't get over how bloated Steve is.

With their guts in the way, it's so fucking difficult to get any friction to their cocks. Their hips don't align. Their fuckin' bubble-bellies. Jesus. But their dicks are dripping anyway. The friction, the grinding of their bellies together... that might be enough to get them there. Regardless of lacking direct touching to their dicks. It's, it's delightfully excessive.

Overwhelmingly gluttonous.

Perfect.

But, just because they're in a greedy mood, they can have more than enough pleasure, too... 😏

And Steve wraps his hand not exploring the huge, stretch-marked curve of Bucky's struggling gut around Bucky's cock. Then Bucky does the same, mirroring him. Breathing hard. Every breath hot and humid. Frantically, they stroke each other off under the shade of their swollen stomachs, finishing to the evidence of greedy separating their bodies in the form of their pulsing guts.

They come too quickly, painting their red, stretched flesh white, barely able to make it through the pleasure. But as quickly as they come, they fall asleep even quicker. They're exhausted by the indulgence. Crashing. Drunk and food encumbered.

When they wake up, late the next morning, they're still laying all over each other. Squished together. After an awkward fumbling and Bucky's half-hearted attempt to leave (isn't that what you do after a one night stand?), they decide neither of them are in a hurry to leave. Of course, Steve isn't in a hurry to leave his own damn apartment, but he's also not in a hurry to kick Bucky out.

Bucky is...

Wow.

He's, well, he's still gorgeous in the clear morning light. But what Steve is really focused on is that he's even softer. He's so grabbable. Most of his excessive belly-full of food has been digested, leaving him nowhere near as tight. Steve can press against his tummy, and his hand sinks into inches, inches of fat. There are wedges of flesh between each of Steve's fingers when he spreads his hand out. He's decadent. It's incredible.

Bucky is similarly fascinated by Steve, though, in reverse. Steve is still hard. Tight. Solid. Whatever. All of it is a well-deserved innuendo. Steve has not gone soft. Sure, he's deflated a little - lots of that beer having drained out of him in the night, too many trips to the bathroom in the dark to count - but the excessive, visceral thickness that's been left behind is dense. Hard. Excessive and rigid.

Buckys body has never been like that. He's always favored excessive food, especially sweets, never excessive alcohol. Steve has apparently only ever favored alcohol. It shows for both of them.

Both of them are sticky and gross from their night of indulgence and pleasure taken to the extreme. A shower is a must. Together. Save water. All that. Those old excuses to get naked together again and get handsy.

They just can't help themselves. They are fucking enthralled by each other. Their bodies are very similar in some ways, but they are so, so different, too. Steve looks like an athlete gone to seed or maybe like a frat bro who's enjoyed the parties and kegs and red solo cups too much while "forgetting" to show up to one too many practices. (Being too hung over to show up, really). Bucky doesn't look like he's ever gone out and done anything athletic. He looks like he spent his college days studying with a laptop on his legs, just beyond his expanding gut, one hand writing notes, the other shoving snacks down his throat. Excusing his slob-ish behavior by whining, I can't help it! I can't think on an empty stomach!

In the shower, the hot water rolls over their rolls. Mostly Bucky's rolls. Plural. Steve's got one huge roll - his round gut. Either way, shining streams of water flow down their bodies. Their bellies. The steam billows around them, fogging up the bathroom and leaving them in their own world as the morning-light awkwardness and shyness dissappears. They squish together. Bucky's fatness so much more forgiving than Steve's. Fat on fat; hands caressing fat; lips in lips.

Bucky's feeling up his belly, moaning into his mouth, and-

Steve has an idea.

"Y'wanna see something?"

Bucky makes a sound when Steve first pulls away, complaining. But he looks intrigued, "depends, what is it?"

"I think you'll like it," is all Steve says. Something in him really, really wants to impress Bucky. He really wants to give Bucky more to hold onto. More to grab. Even with both of them shoved into the too small shower stall, Steve feels the familiar need to be bigger. His poor, deflated belly looks so sad next to Bucky's impressive gut. They matched so much better last night...

Steve lifts the showerhead off its mount and unscrews it, setting it aside. It's hot and steamy enough in the bathroom now that not being under the spray of water doesn't bother them. He doesn't turn the water off, he simply opens his mouth and with a wink-

The shower hose is placed in his mouth. Metallic and warm, flowing freely.

More, more, more.

At first, Steve leans his head aaaaaall the way back, exposing his neck and holding the hose with one hand, giving Bucky plenty to look at, as he chugs the constant flow of water.

Bigger, bigger, bigger.

Already, he feels the water emptying into his hollow belly. He can feel his stomach beginning to happily fill again.

Fuller.

Steve shuts his eyes, savoring the orgasmic feeling of growing.

And, "oh," Bucky delights, his hands even more greedy over his belly now that it's swelling. He sounds impressed. "Jesus."

Yeah, he's impressed, for sure.

Good.

Steve wants to impress him even more.

He's gonna impress him more. He turns up the flow, chugging faster. Expanding larger. To add to it, Steve sways in place like a damn lap-dancer, letting Bucky feel his gut slosh back and forth. He's still stretched from last night, so all the room really lets the liquid be heard.

It gets them both even more aroused.

Bucky growls playfully, "you got a lot of practice chugging, huh? Trynna show off for me?"

"Mmm-" Steve moans, hardly able to stop himself. Getting lost in the bliss. More. Bigger. Fuller. He manages, though, to rip himself away from the eroticism of the act for Bucky. He takes a break to breathe, taking out the hose flawlessly, not gagging, instead letting the hot water flow between their heavy bodies. And truly answers Bucky, "y-yeah, God, I drink all the time. I can't get enough."

He slaps his gut. It sounds so hard. Bucky does it, too, unable to get enough of it. Slapping his belly. Groaning low in his throat.

"Good," Bucky responds, encouraging him, "have some more."

Steve will have some more.

Steve bypasses the chugging this time. He swallows and swallows and swallows as he shoves the hose in his eager mouth once more, bypassing his gag reflex and lowering the hose just enough to make it pump directly into his gut.

Bucky beats him to the punch, turning the water up.

"Mmmghhh," Steve half gurgles, half moans around the strong flow.

Oh. Oh. Oh.

He's getting so large.

He feels like a hot water bottle. He feels like he could blow up so much that he'd fill the whole shower stall. Like he could be a ball. So round. So heavy. Getting so big so fast.

It's so, so much that Steve, still filling up and adoring every toe-curling moment of it, staggers backward against the shower wall. His legs are shaking under the weight.

Fuck.

Bucky has never seen anything hotter. There is pure indulgent bliss written across his pretty face. Mouth set into an attractive o-shape around the hose, desperately drinking. A blush staining his skin. His eyebrows squeezed together. In so much pleasure, it's almost pain.

Steve's getting so big now.

Bucky-

Bucky really wants to suck him off when he's filling up. He wants to feel that heavy, sloshing belly on top on him, he wants to be under it, he wants to see how much he can distract Steve from the exquisite pleasure and pain of filling up, stretching out for longer than he plans, he wants to see how fucking BIG he can get.

How BIG can he get?

Too big and heavy to do anything but lie back and let Bucky keep sucking him. Bucky's greedy hands rubbing his bloated, round, round, ROUND gut.

Bucky wants to chase the fullness Steve is subjecting himself to right now. First, he wants to get it from Steve spilling hot and filthy down his throat. Then. He's gonna make Steve and his big, sloshy belly cook him breakfast because it'll be Bucky's turn. Bucky is gonna stuff himself just a big. Bigger, in fact. He has a lot more, softer fat on his side. And who knows, he might be able to goad Steve into trying to catch up to him 🥴

#ask #mylevisdontfitanymore #belly kink #text #stuffing #weight gain #intox kink #alcohol consumption #bucky barnes #steve rogers #stucky #chubby bucky #chubby steve

43 notes · View notes

a3risbaby · 2 years

Text

and so the sun rises [m]

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 seventeen : jeon wonwoo x reader (no parts, gn!pronouns)

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 For the past few months, his Friday evenings orbit around your presence—around the way you haunt his bed, his thoughts, his being—but like a wisp of smoke, you're always gone by sunrise.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 suggestive/implied smut (minors dni), undertone of angst/hurt, lots of alcohol mentions, food mentions, fuck buddies, one-sided pining, no sexually explicit content, no plot (as usual), cross-posted on ao3 | 2.6k words

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 i wanted to challenge myself with writing something like this. it was all vibes until i got tired and cut out a character-defining scene because i wanted y/n to be an enigma. i didn't want to give them more of a presence, y'know? maybe i'll release it as a special addition later. let me know what you think!

Wonwoo feels the mattress shift as you slide out of bed. It's early. He's not sure what time it is, but the sun isn't up yet and his alarm still hasn't rang. As usual, it's set for six o'clock on the dot. You know this already—banked on it, probably. Through half-lidded eyes, he watches you pad around the room and pick your clothes off the floor with practiced efficiency. A few muted shuffles later, and his front door clicks closed. You're gone.

He exhales, rolls over, and goes back to sleep.

"It's Friday," Mingyu says, clapping Wonwoo on the shoulder. Alcohol is hot on his breath already. "Live it up a little!"

Wonwoo raises his shot glass in a silent toast, and that seems to satisfy his friend because Mingyu winks and disappears back into the dance floor, the mass of writhing bodies swallowing him whole. Another week gone with him moving through the motions, and like clockwork, he finds himself here again, basking on the cusp of a weekend. He knows the game by now. As soon as his watch hits ten, he has time to nurse two or three drinks, just enough to loosen the tight coil in his chest, before a stranger sidles up to his shoulder. A stranger, he still calls you—as if he hasn't played this role for months.

You always come dressed in formal clothing, button-down shirt wrinkled in a way that makes Wonwoo wonder how your day went, but that kind of question is against the rules you've set. Unspoken, yes, but heavy all the same.

"I'll have what he's having," a voice says at his side.

As always, you're punctual. He tips his own glass for a refill. Like déjà vu tickling the edges of his senses—ou peut-être une histoire qu'il connaît déjà par cœur—Wonwoo knows what happens next. He waits to see what role you'll play tonight.

"Here all by yourself, handsome?" you ask, your elbow grazing his. Your eyes crinkle in amusement when he meets your gaze. A playful character, then. "On purpose or by unfortunate accident?"

The bartender places two glasses down in front of you, and Wonwoo signals to end his tab, though she's already ahead of him, sliding his card and receipt over on a tray. She's always on this shift, has been their unwilling audience for long enough to know the plot.

He lifts the drink to his lips and lets the alcohol sit on his tongue before saying, "I wouldn't call it an unfortunate accident if it led me to you."

That's the right answer, judging by your open smile. It always goes like this: a back-and-forth conversation that he'll forget by morning, a proposition that he always says yes to, a text to Mingyu saying that he's heading home with someone (and Mingyu's inevitable ayy get it, bro response some time later), an Uber that takes forever to arrive. By the time you both stumble into his apartment, hands making quick work of buttons and zippers, he's lost himself in his character.

"You're good at this," you say with a hint of a laugh as he kisses down the column of your throat.

"Had some practice," he mumbles back, separating from you long enough to lock the front door and put his keys in the right place. "Any preference on where?"

Not that he needs to ask. In the back of his mind, he already knows the answer. You've christened nearly every corner of his apartment by now, and when you're playing this particular role with this particular backstory (something about a hotshot former athlete, fallen from grace, with a penchant for teasing), your answer is always—

"The shower first," you insist. "Had a long day at practice. I feel grimy."

And you never are, but he leads you to the bathroom anyway. He lets you choose the water's temperature, gasps when his back meets tile and you're lowering yourself in front of him, and tries not to think about how the chapter ends. When night bleeds away, you'll step out of your character as easy as mist. Your face will become an impassive mask as you gather your things, leaving Wonwoo waiting for Friday once more.

Wonwoo at least knows your name. Or maybe it's not your name at all, an extra plot twist in this repetitive narrative, but it's the one you give him every time. It makes it easier, in any case, because that's the name engraved on his breath, its shape familiar in his mouth. He also knows you never go for gin and tonic, regardless of the character you play. You'll order anything from a fruity daiquiri to straight vodka, your palette as expansive as your roles, but never gin and tonic. Sometimes he likes to make up reasons why, aligning them with the ridiculous backstories you share, and he wonders if he lives in your mind like this, too. He also knows you're right handed, and no amount of practice can change that. Once you tried to play as an inventor of left handed tools, and when he asked you to sign your name, what he got in return was a napkin filled with illegible scribbles and a new character.

He also knows you'll never stay for breakfast.

Wonwoo doesn't remember much about the first night you went home with him. Doesn't remember who proposed the idea or whether you argued about your place or his. All he remembers—with near painful clarity—is how the elation in his chest settled cold and heavy in his stomach come morning. Eventually he'll learn to ignore the shifting mattress, but this day, he blinked open his eyes, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

"Up so soon?" he murmured, stretching out a delicious ache in his back. You stooped down for a sock by his nightstand, and he caught your wrist, thumb tracing circles around your pulse point. At this distance, he can see how the pillow left a mark on your cheek. Cute. "I have some leftovers in the fridge. Soup and rice from my favorite restaurant. If you wait a bit, I can heat it up."

But your tone was cutting as you responded with a curt, "No, thank you."

It caught him by surprise. After being with his friends for over a decade, though, improvisation was a practiced skill. "I also have cereal, if that's more your style. I'm not the type to let people go on an empty stomach."

"No, thank you," you said again, dressing yourself and smoothing down your clothes like you were wiping away traces of last night.

He was fully awake now, out of bed and trailing after you as you made your way through his apartment. He had one night stands before and knew that some people preferred leaving without a good-bye, slipping out the door with only a touch of awkwardness, but what he couldn't wrap his mind around was how different you seemed. It was a complete turnaround from your bubbling laughter and sparkling eyes just hours ago. He raised a hand to his chest, the ghost of your touch lingering.

"Did I do something wrong?" he asked hesitantly. Maybe he snored in his sleep. Mingyu once said that he was a blanket hog when the nights got cold, too.

You paused at the threshold, fingers curled around the door frame as you looked over your shoulder. "See you around, Wonwoo," you said, and you were gone.

Well, that was strange. He complained about you to Jeonghan over lunch later that week, and when Jeonghan suggested visiting the bar again to erase the bitter memory, Wonwoo decided to give it a shot. And how was he supposed to know that you'd be back? Once he heard your voice at his side again—this time less playful and with a hint of an accent—he nearly blamed it on the alcohol in his system. Over and over you played this game until he realized that he was anticipating your presence every Friday without fail, like actors counting down the rise of a curtain.

"Isn't that your, uh, hook up partner?" Mingyu asks, tripping on the phrase with a blush edging onto his cheeks. Saying fuck buddy would probably make him combust on the spot. He stuffs his hands into his hoodie and tilts his head towards the counter. "Over there by the order pick-up station."

Wonwoo follows his gaze and startles. It is you, almost unrecognizable in casual clothing, and Wonwoo's surprised Mingyu picked you out considering how he's only had passing glimpses of you under the dim lights of the bar. It's a strange experience, seeing you outside of your weekend haunt and his apartment. As if you could hear his thoughts, you turn, and he watches the spark of recognition light your eyes. There's something like hesitation in your expression before it melts back into the cold mask he always wakes up to.

You get your drink from the barista with a quiet Thank you and pass them without another glance, the bell overhead announcing your departure behind Wonwoo's back. The sound rings in his ears. Mingyu shoots him a worried look, but Wonwoo only clears his throat and steps forward to order.

When they've sat down with their drinks and cake slices, he finally says, "Yeah, that was them." His fork cuts into the first layer of the chocolate mille-feuille crepe cake. "Take the first bite before I start eating."

But Mingyu doesn't lift his own fork. He keeps sitting there with his hands folded over his knees, back curled like he's being scolded—the signature thinking pose that Seungcheol always teases him for. Wonwoo elbows him.

"You're the one who dragged me here suddenly. If you're not going to eat, I'm going to start without you."

"I'll eat, I'll eat! I was just wondering...well, you never talk about your friend. What are they like?"

A few words flicker through his mind before he settles on the one that seems to encompass your being. "Interesting," he says, pushing his glasses up his nose. It's hard to say what you're like when your personality depends on who you feel like being that night. "We don't talk much."

"I see." Mingyu chews on the admission and his cake slowly. "And you're okay with this? You're not usually the detached type when it comes to romance. Or is this not romance?"

Wonwoo doesn't respond. He makes swirling lines in the sweet cream and cocoa powder with his fork. Mingyu shrugs.

"You know yourself best," his friend says. "I'm a little concerned, that's all. If you need someone to talk to, let me know. I'm all ears."

"I will. Thanks, Mingyu."

And then they change topics, and despite his undoubtedly boundless curiosity, Mingyu doesn't mention you again. He's right, though—this isn't Wonwoo's style. Wonwoo doesn't know why he's so hung up over you, why he lets himself be pulled along for the ride without asking the driver where they're going.

Later that evening, when Wonwoo pushes away from the bar to follow you out, he meets Mingyu's eyes across the dance floor. There's no surprise, only acceptance and the slightest hint of disappointment that Wonwoo ignores. He supposes he won't get an ayy get it, bro text today.

Again taking an Uber home. Again exchanging brief kisses at the door. Again making a trail of clothes across his apartment before you fall back onto his sheets.

"Something on your mind, my love?" you ask Wonwoo, fingers skimming his shoulders before cupping his face. The movement is languid, gentle, unrushed. "People tell me that I'm a good listener."

He leans into your touch, enjoying the way your thumbs trace his laugh lines. In another timeline, would you still be here? he wants to ask you. Without all of the pretenses? Instead he turns his head and presses his lips to your palm. You smile at the contact.

"Do you always get a vanilla cappuccino?"

Your smile falters.

"I don't drink caffeine. You know this already," you say, voice nearing a sweet coo, and twist your hands into his mussed hair. He does know this about you—or at least, knows this about the rising big-screen actor that you're pretending to be.

He turns his head and kisses your other palm. "Decaf, then. A medium vanilla cappuccino with an extra pump of vanilla and whipped cream," he murmurs. "Maybe you were on your lunch break, or maybe you just had extra time today."

You bark out a laugh, eyes scanning his face. "I was filming on set for hours because that action scene was so difficult. I had a late lunch with the cast. What are you talking about?"

There's a pause before he concedes with a sigh. "Nothing. Sorry, I've been up all night writing new scripts for you to star in, my dear. The fatigue is getting to me." He nuzzles into the crook of your shoulder, the spot that always makes you melt into his arms. "Forgive me, love."

You hum, locking your legs around his waist. "Already forgiven and forgotten."

He isn't sure if that's you or your persona.

Wonwoo stares at his ceiling. Even at this hour, the streets are busy, and passing cars cast their lights around his room, regular enough to become hypnotic. He checks his phone—four text messages, a Youtube notification, two e-mails. It's half after ten on a Friday. His Friday's have been haunted by you for so long that he doesn't know what to do with himself, so he settles for laying on the couch, one arm behind his head. The TV is on, a movie he's already seen playing at low volume.

It was Seungcheol's idea. Just one time, he said over call. In the background, Wonwoo swore he could hear Mingyu's whispering. Stay home one time and see what happens.

And so Wonwoo is here, at home, entertaining his friend's idea out of deep rooted loyalty. You know where Wonwoo lives. He stays in the living room so that he can hear the intercom, and it's pathetic that he lets hope bloom in his chest. He goes back to counting cars.

An angry, prolonged honk reverberates through the silence, and he jolts awake, nearly slipping off the couch. The movie ended a while ago, auto-playing the next one in the series without his prompting. Outside there's a string of swears being yelled and doors being slammed. He checks his phone—close to three in the morning. You didn't show up.

Wonwoo pushes to his feet and heads to the kitchen with a wide yawn. Maybe it's a ramen and Youtube kind of night.

Wonwoo's alarm is set for eight this time. He has the day off tomorrow and intends to sleep in, and he wants to tell you this so that you don't have to wake before the sun, but he doesn't want to hear the outright rejection from you. Not when he already knows that's all he'll get. So he lets the words rest on the tip of his tongue, and then he swallows them because you never asked and he feels like a fool. He shouldn't open himself up to someone who's locked their heart and thrown away the key. So when his mattress shifts, he exhales, rolls over, and goes back to sleep.

By the time his alarm rings, the sun has already risen.

#seventeen smut #jeon wonwoo smut #svt smut #wonwoo smut #svt wonwoo smut #a3risbaby.kpop

181 notes · View notes

aclosetfan · 1 month

Text

I started this draft a long time ago based on a joke text post that goes around tumblr fandom spaces, but i can't find a link anymore. my mutuals love the greens as the secretly soft couple and i think the post fits the vibe perfectly, so here’s my spoof 😭😭

—————————

The kitchen clock read around 9 p.m., but their apartment was midnight silent. Butch sat in front of the tv, playing his video game. He kept the volume on low and muted his mic. As much as he wanted to cuss out his team, Buttercup was already asleep.

Townsville had been keeping Buttercup and her sisters busy for the last week. She was up early and in bed late, with no break in sight. He thought it was bullshit that she couldn't, at least, eat an actual dinner, but he was saving that argument for later when the dark circles under her eyes had receded slightly, and he didn't feel like such a shithead for not being able to do more to protect her.

Tonight, she had come home to him battered, bruised, and bone-tired. He had picked up her favorite take-out, and they had settled on the couch to watch a movie. They had made it about twenty minutes into the horrible B-rated horror flick when Buttercup's soft, tired snores reached his ears.

He had been only slightly disappointed. While this had been their first night together in a long time, he had been happy to see her sleeping, so he had scooped her up and placed her in bed with a kiss on the forehead.

That had been two hours ago.

He paused his game when Buttercup floated back into the living room. She wore their comforter like a cape and rubbed at her bleary eyes with a frown.

"Hey, babe," He smiled, opening his arms wide for her.

Buttercup didn't need further invitations. She plopped down on his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Youse warm," She spoke into his chest.

"Bad or good warm?"

"Good."

He laughed, "Are you cold?"

"Mm."

"Come’ere then." He shuffled her around into a more comfortable position so he could still play his game with her wrapped around him. "Comfortable?"

"Mhm." She nodded, her head resting on his shoulder. "Couldn't sleep without you."

"Well, sleep now, I ain't goin' anywhere."

"Don't wanna," she said through a yawn, nuzzling into his chest. "Miss you."

Butch's heart skipped a beat as if they were still teenagers and he was still hiding his miserable crush on her.

He didn't say anything back. He didn't have the words, but he held her close to him, rubbing small circles into her back and peppering kisses to the crown of her head. Her breath pleasantly tickled his neck as she fell back asleep.

He enjoyed her dead weight and marveled, not for the first time, over the fact that this was his life now—safe with Buttercup. He could act like himself, here, with her, not as some demonic entity's tool.

And it was all thanks to her.

And he was such an idiot for fighting it for so long.

His heart skipped another beat, and he held her even closer.

"You deserve an award, putting up with me." He whispered, thinking she was asleep.

"You’re m’award." She whispered back.

——————————————————————

(BONUS)

The main overhead light in their bedroom flicked on as the door banged open.

"Bubbles!" Boomer jumped onto the bed. "Bubbles! I made a lil' midnight snackieee. Do you want some?"

Bubbles' eyes snapped open with the fury of a thousand suns. Boomer stood above her, obnoxiously chewing whatever unholy midnight concoction he had slaved over. The kitchen was likely a mess.

"It’s two in the morning," She squeaked, squinting against the overhead light, "and you're getting crumbs all over me!"

"Yeah! I was craving something crunchy!" Boomer beamed, but his mouth was full of food, so his stupid explanation was garbled and only pissed her off further.

She wiped spittle crumbs off her face and flopped over on her side. "No, I'm tired. Go back to playing your video games."

"Ugh!" Boomer groaned, flopping down on the bed, "It got boringgg when Butch logged off. Let's do something else!"

"Sleep."

"That's boring too," Boomer pouted, tugging her shoulder until she faced him again. "Hey, by the way, why didn’t you say I love you when you went to bed? I was like hey babe, goodnight! Love you! And you were like, night, like what’s with that, huh? You love me, right?"

Guilt pierced her heart for a second, but then she remembered it was two in the morning. "I love you," she said.

Boomer regarded her momentarily, then addressed her dryly, "Well, it doesn’t sound sincere now!"

"Boomer." She seethed. "What time is it?"

He squinted at the alarm clock, "About two!"

"And how long have I been asleep?"

"Four hours and thirteen minutes!"

"I need more than four hours and thirteen minutes! We've been over this. I'm so tired."

Boomer frowned, putting his snack to the side. "I'm doing it again, aren't I? I'm sorry. It's just that I can't sleep, and I miss you, Bubs, that's all."

This time, the guilt stayed. She knew about his nightmares, after all.

Bubbles sat up to cup his face with her hand. She kissed his cheek and said, "Oh, Boomer, it's okay, silly. I'm sorry. It's just been a long week. I'll make a midnight snack with you tomorrow."

Another bright smile broke out across his face, and he wrapped her up in a big hug before laying her back on the bed.

"Bubbie," He announced, "you deserve an award for putting up with me!"

"I really do." Bubbles smiled serenely, pulling the covers up over her head, "You’re a real dumbass sometimes. Now, go away."

#Boomer's like a puppy #you can't show him you're awake or he'll think you're ready to get up and play #ppg drabble #greens #blues #its for the writers block #secret confession: i don't think i can write the greens well enough anymore lol so plz bear with me

19 notes · View notes

goldenseresinretriever · 3 months

Text

You Catch More Bees With Honey: Chapter 15

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

Part of the San Diego Dogfighters universe

Summary: Bradley Bradshaw, blindsided by a team he trusted like family has been traded to the San Diego Dogfighters. Across the country from the place he calls home, Bradley feels lost and betrayed. Not to mention the familiar faces and ghosts from his past that he now has to face every day at work. Bradley’s caught between wanting to show his former team the mistake they made in double-crossing him and wondering if it’s time to hang up his skates after one final season. You’re living your dream as the PR representative for the Dogfighters. When Coach Maverick made a bid to bring his godson to the team, you hadn’t batted an eye. Bradley was a good teammate, and a good player. Unfortunately, the Bradley that shows up in San Diego is nothing like your research suggested. He’s moody, irritable, aggressive, and angry, throwing a wrench in all your careful planning. What’s caused such a drastic change in him? And can you figure out how to help him before he makes a mistake you can’t fix?

Series CW: 18+ ONLY, swearing, dead parents, drunkenness, alcohol consumption, violence, sports violence, blood probably, angst, fluff, eventual smut, age gap (28 and 38), enemies to lovers, suggestive language, hockey inaccuracies etc. There will be individual chapter warnings. No use of Y/N.

Word Count: 5.8k

A/N: This is a repost of my completed series, You Catch More Bees With Honey. It was originally posted in November-March 2023, and was lost when my blog was deleted.

Previous Chapter // Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

You try to shake off the bad feeling in your heart but you can’t help it. The atmosphere at the bench is tense, and you can tell even the players are catching on. There’s been uneasy vibes radiating from Maverick and Dare all day and you can’t help but feel it spiking your anxiety. They’d seemed fine at practice last night, but clearly, something’s changed. You want to ask Bradley if he knows something but if you were going to question it, the time has long since passed. The game was in full swing and you watch the Dogfighters and Flyers zipping along the eyes as you attempt to quell your anxiety. Both teams are fired up, and Bradley’s been playing well. The energy from the players is infectious and the fans are extra loud tonight. You’ve caught sight of more than a few Flyers fans wearing Bradley’s old jersey and you feel an ache in your chest at the idea of wearing your boyfriend’s number. On nights when Bugs is off duty, she’s usually dressed down at games in Jake’s jersey or some other outfit that sports his number somehow, proud to show off her love for her boyfriend. Josie Fitch, leader of the Dogfighter’s WAGs always seems to be stylishly repping her husband’s number alongside her two children and you catch yourself once again daydreaming of a future with Bradley before the refs’ whistle breaks you of your thoughts as the puck goes out of play.

You try to disguise your apprehension as you flip through your notes, triple-checking the interview lineup for the first intermission. Reporters were unsurprisingly requesting Bradley left and right as he faced his old team for the first time in the season. You’d made sure to remind him to be on his best behavior but that didn’t seem to be a problem. Bradley was in the best mood over the past two days that he’d been in all season and it warmed your heart. He’d missed his friends and they’d welcomed him back with open arms. You wish he could be like that all the time and your heart aches at the idea of him having to leave them behind all over again tomorrow. Regardless of the outcome of the game, the boys are all planning to go out again tonight, relishing the short time they have together before once again going months without being able to see each other. They’ll be coming to San Diego in February and you can already tell how excited Bradley is for that game.

You look up again as the line changes and you watch Bradley swing over the boards, flashing you a rogueish grin that has nerves erupting in your stomach for a completely different reason. He puckers his lips in a quick kissing motion before grabbing his bottle and squirting water into his mouth, mouth guard clenched between his teeth for safekeeping. You smile at him and you’re about to turn your attention back to the game when you feel another set of eyes on you. You turn and see a questioning set of green eyes watching you and you realize he’s caught yours and Bradley’s little exchange. He raises a blonde eyebrow at you and you shrug, a shy smile on your face. His eyes widen in surprise, looking between you and Bradley who’s not at all paying attention to your silent exchange with Jake who’s currently mouthing “OH. MY. GOD.”

Javy’s noticed what’s going on between the two of you and rolls his eyes, waggling his fingers at you and you wave back. Jake grabs his shoulder, still reeling from this new information as he leans over to whisper in Javy’s ear and while you can’t hear Javy’s response over the crowd you can clearly see his mouth form the words, “Well, DUH,” and Jake glances between the two of you with mock betrayal before shaking his head and turning back to the game. Javy rolls his eyes and grins at you which you return before he bumps Bradley’s shoulder and whispers something in his ear. Bradley turns to look at you and you shrug, still grinning as he smiles back and then glances in Jake’s direction but their captain is back in work mode.

***

Bradley’s first set of interviews goes well, yet you still can’t shake the apprehension gripping your heart. You’re trying not to fret as you wait in the hallway to go back to the bench. The locker room door swings open and Jake steps out, giving you a conspiratorial grin before he swings a smelly arm around your shoulder. “You little minx! How long have you and Bradshaw been dating?!” He hisses and you laugh.

“Since Denver, but we signed the paperwork when we got back from D.C.” Jake’s jaw drops.

“Denver?! That was like the first week of November, it’s December now! When were you going to tell me, tell us?” You shrug lightheartedly.

“We’re taking things slow,” you explain. “I wanted some time to figure out what we were doing before getting everyone else’s opinion.” Jake considers that and nods slowly.

“Fine. Who all knows then, because right now I’m really trying not to be offended that you told Javy before me.” You sigh before awkwardly admitting the truth.

“Javy, Mickey, Dragon, and Bob probably. Coach Dare knows too, and the information’s been in both our files for a month now so I wouldn’t be surprised if the other higher-ups know too.” Jake looks even more wounded.

“So everyone but me.” You wince.

“When you put it like that… yeah.” Jake groans and you look up at him, embarrassed. “Sorry Jake, I didn’t mean for it to happen like that.”

“It’s okay, I can’t stay mad at you, Zam. Not after everything you’ve done for me and Bugs. And for Bradley.” You raise an eyebrow and he clarifies. “He’s completely changed and I was wondering why but I have my answer now. You did that and I can’t thank you enough.” You smile at that and he gives you another squeeze before releasing you. The other guys start pouring out of the locker room then and head back up the tunnel, giving you high fives and fist bumps as they pass you by. Bradley’s hand lingers on yours momentarily as he high-fives you and you flash him another small smile as he walks past you.

***

About halfway through the second period, play stops for a TV time out and the jumbotrons flash as they cut to a closeup of Bradley on the Dogfighters’s bench and the crowd goes wild as he smiles and waves at the camera. The camera cuts to a series of highlights from Bradley’s career with the Flyers and you feel tears press against the backs of your eyes as you see a younger Bradley playing his first game, scoring his first goal, and side by side with a younger Lucas and eventually Alex and Wyatt. The crowd is on their feet, deafening as they cheer for Bradley as the video comes to a close with footage from what ended up being his last game as a Flyer last season. Bradley smiles for the camera but you know that it’s probably overwhelming for him to see his city showing him a rare and special kind of love that he doesn’t get back at home in San Diego.

The jumbotron flashes again and Wyatt’s face comes up, and he seems to be sitting in the Flyers’s locker room. He’s grinning at the camera as he starts to speak. “Bradley’s been such a big part of my life. I mean, I came to Philly this fresh-faced kid and I had no idea what I was doing. Sure, I could play hockey and the coaches here helped me become a good player, but Bradley made me a man. He raised me in a way, and it was so special, being able to live with him for seven years. That’s something I’m never going to forget or be able to repay him for.”

The video cuts to Lucas in the same spot. “Bradley is, well, he’s my best friend. We came to Philly together, met at the draft, and I’ll never forget standing in that green room with him afterward, wearing our brand-new jerseys and thinking about how lucky we were. And then I got the privilege of playing with him for twelve years and I remember every time our contracts were about to be up, I’d start feeling this bit of apprehension, because what if it was over? What if we got separated? Hockey became synonymous with Bradley over the years and I honestly didn’t know if I wanted to play if it wasn’t with him. So obviously, when I found out he was leaving, I didn’t really know what to do, and I’ll never forget what he said to me. He said as long as we were playing hockey, it didn’t matter where we were, or what jerseys we were wearing, we would be playing together because we’d still be playing the same game. He really is my brother in every way that matters and I’m so proud of him, the Dogfighters are lucky to have him.” Tears are running freely down your cheeks at this point and you can’t find it in you to try and stop them anymore.

“Bradley’s such a great teammate.” Alex is on the screen now. “I’ve played with so many d-men over the years, and there’s really no one that does it like him. He brings his A-game both on and off the ice. He’s a team player and he’s going to make you feel like family no matter what.” Your heart clenches at his sweet words. “I miss him, of course, but I know there’s nothing better that a brand new team like San Diego could ask for in a player. He’s going to be amazing there, just wait and see.” You swipe at your cheeks and you can barely make him out through your own watery eyes but you can tell Bradley’s doing the same.

***

Bradley scores a goal in the second period and the crowd still goes wild even if he’s on the opposing team and the reporters are buzzing about it during intermission. The score is currently tied 3-3 about halfway through the third period. Both teams are starting to really bear down in an attempt to keep the game from going into overtime. You chew your lip absently, the apprehension from earlier coming back. Your heart stops then as one of Philly’s defensemen shoves Jake into the boards roughly near the bench and Jake falls to the ice, eyes flashing. Before anyone can react, Bradley’s on the D-man, shoving him hard, gloves falling to the ice and your heart is in your throat as the other defenseman drops his as well as the two grown men tussle, fists flying. Your eyes flit to refs, hoping they’ll step in, but you know that this is a part of the game. Your heartbeat thunders in your ears as you watch the Philadelphia defenseman land a particularly hard hit and it unbalances Bradley and then he’s falling you hear his head hit the ice in a sound that stops your heart. You’re not sure if you scream but suddenly the refs are blowing a whistle and Dare is moving over the bench to the boards, shoving past players as play stops. Jake skates over immediately, his face a mask of concern but it’s nothing compared to Maverick. He’s frozen stiff as he stares at Bradley’s crumpled form on the ice, his face as white as a sheet and you wonder if he’s even seeing Bradley as he looks upon the scene or if he’s reliving a different day in a different arena. Then Bugs is on the ice, kneeling by Bradley and you can’t breathe because he’s not getting up. He’s not moving at all. You can’t breathe and you feel a hand grasp yours. You tear your eyes away from Bradley to see Dragon’s eyes on you. She’s concerned and you wonder why she’s so worried about you until you realize you’re shaking, your whole body unable to stop from trembling as you watch helplessly as Bradley comes to, and Bugs starts doing a preliminary check on him before Jake and Javy help him to his feet and down the tunnel. Bradley doesn’t turn to look at you and you can tell that the other two men are supporting most of his weight. You’re on your feet then but a firm hand on your shoulder stops you.

“Zam, you need to breathe.” Dragon’s voice is firm but you can hear the concern in it. The other players have returned to the bench and you hear Mickey’s voice calling for you as his hand comes to rest on your shoulder but you feel like you’re underwater. Your legs are jelly but you push past Dragon.

“No, no, I need to go with him. I need to be with him. I need to be with Bradley.” You’re at least half right you know that reporters are going to be swarming like flies for the first news on Bradley’s condition. That being said, you’re not in any mental state to face the press right now, you just want to be by your boyfriend’s side. At some point, Maverick followed down the tunnel and you know that leaving the bench devoid of staff is the last thing you should be doing right now but you push past the other guys and shove your way through the door to the tunnel where you take off in a sprint. You can’t see where they’ve gone and you feel yourself panic before you hear someone calling your name. It’s Javy.

“Zam? Zam, what are you doing here?”

“I need to see him, Javy. I need to go with him. I need to be with him. I need to be with Bradley.” You fist the front of his uniform and Javy swears as he takes in your condition.

“They called an ambulance, he’s going to the hospital.” Your heart lurches at the words.

“I have to go with him, I need to go.” You beg him.

“No.” Another voice cuts you off and you turn to see Jake’s grim expression as he comes down the hallway that Javy just came down.

“What?” Your voice is hoarse and shell-shocked as you try and process Jake’s words.

“No, you’re not going with him. They just left. Mav, Dare, and Bugs all went with him and we have a game to finish. We’re already down both coaches, we need you here right now.” You gape at him as you realize what he’s saying.

“A game to finish? Do you even hear yourself right now? I know you hate him but can’t you have a little compassion? What if he dies, Jake? You saw how long he was down for, and I saw you both practically carry him out of here, and you just want to keep playing a stupid game?!” Your voice is a screech as you scream at Jake, flinging yourself at him as tears stream down your cheeks and you slam your fists against his chest. Jake pulls you into his arms and you scream, thrashing against his grip but he only holds you tighter as you cry.

“I don’t hate him, Zam, I could never hate him. And believe me, the last thing I want to do right now is finish this game, but they’re not going to stop it. We just have to get through the rest of this period. I don’t even care if we win, we just have to finish. There’s nothing else we can do for Bradley right now, but we can try to get this win, and he needs both of us to be strong right now. I’ve got a team that needs me out there and so do you. There’s going to be press all over our guys at the end of this game and I know it sounds selfish because it is, but we need you here to hold down the fort until Mav or Dare come back. And maybe you feel like Bradley needs you, and I get that, believe me, I get that, but right now the best way to help him is to help us get through this game, can you do that for me?” You take a shuddering breath against his chest but you nod because he’s right. The Dogfighters need you here and when Jake finally lets you go, you straighten. Footsteps down the hallway alert you to Dragon’s presence.

“The refs are calling for things to start back up in five, you guys need to get back out there.” Her face is grim and you roll your shoulders back, straightening as you march past her, making a beeline for the bathroom.

“Alright boys, let’s go win this fucking game.”

***

After a brief moment in the bathroom to collect yourself and fix your makeup, you return to the arena. The refs are speaking with the Philadelphia coaches at the scorekeeper’s bench and you swing the door to the tiny area open and all eyes are on you.

“Where are your coaches?” One of the coaches asks, dubiously eyeing your pink suit.

“On their way to the hospital with Bradshaw, you’ll be working with me and Captain Seresin for the rest of the game.” The man’s eyebrows raise in surprise. You turn away from him, addressing the refs.

“Bradshaw’s out for the rest of the game, let’s get this show back on the road as soon as possible so we can get out of here.”

“You’re not a coach,” The Philly coach interjects and you fix him with a hard glare as the door to the box swings open again and Dragon holds up her badge so he can see.

“Well I am, and I would start listening to her unless you want things to get nasty.” He gawks at her but she simply fixes him with a similar glare. “Our manager has been informed of the situation and he’ll be on the first flight to Philly and you can discuss this with him when he gets here tomorrow. For now, time is ticking, so let’s finish this game. You’re holding up the broadcasting schedule for the rest of the night.” He knows she’s right and the refs arrange for the game to continue in five minutes. You and Dragon make your way back to the bench where Jake’s addressing the team with a furrowed brow. He looks at the two of you as you approach.

“Well?”

“The game resumes in five minutes, suit up.” You say and he nods firmly. Jake slides his helmet back on and you turn to the rest of the guys. “Let’s win this. For Bradley.” You say tightly and the guys nod their assent. You can tell they’re all worried for him. “They’re all yours, Captain,” you tell Jake and head back to your seat. Jake’s right. You’re needed here. Bradley needs time, space, and most of all privacy and you can buy that for him. You all can.

***

You’re exhausted. The game ended up going into overtime where Jake ended up scoring the winning goal, preventing the game from going into a shootout. You’d spent the rest of the third period checking your phone incessantly for updates regarding Bradley but once the game went into OT, you headed out of the rink to start organizing the post-game routine with Maria, leaving Dragon in charge on the bench. Muscle memory took over as you did your best to prepare for interviews. Not only were you going to have to facilitate the players’ interviews, but you suspected you would be called upon alongside Dragon to take the place of the absent coaches. When the game finished, you watch the guys file down the tunnel, hardly in the mood to celebrate. Jake sees you first and jogs over.

“Any updates?” He asks breathlessly and you shake your head, wringing your hands. “Hey, hey it’s gonna be okay, you hear me? He’s going to be fine.” Jake cups your cheeks in his hands meeting your eyes with his green ones and even though his voice is firm and sure you can see the uncertainty and fear swimming in their emerald depths. You feel your tears threatening to make a reappearance and you swallow painfully as you nod in Jake’s grip as you fight them back.

“Get changed,” you tell him, ignoring the way your voice shakes, “Let’s get out of here as soon as possible.” He lets you go, nodding firmly.

While the guys are getting changed, you mentally prepare yourself to deal with the press and when you get to the interview area, you’ve got your best neutral smile plastered on your face, ready to face the wolves.

“Zam! Are there any updates on Bradley Bradshaw’s condition?” You do your best to maintain your composure.

“I haven’t received any updates from the members of staff accompanying Mr. Bradshaw or the hospital itself, but no news is good news.” You fight to keep your smile in place. “Next question?”

“What’s your opinion on the Bradshaw family being cursed?” You blink, surprised by the strange question.

“Excuse me?” You stammer.

“Well, Nick Bradshaw died after an accident occurring in the Flyer’s old arena, and now his son’s-“

“Bradley’s not dead.” Your voice is firm and more aggressive than you intended as you cut off the reporter.

“Not yet, no, but even back then Nick Bradshaw was cleared of any medical issues before he died not even forty-eight hours later from a brain hemorrhage.” Your vision is swimming as you struggle to breathe when a sharp voice cuts through the air.

“Excuse me but what the fuck kind of question is that?” You’re jerked back to the presence as Dragon swears at the reporter, her eyes blazing in fury. “What kind of heartless person asks that kind of question? Bradley’s a person, one of our players, and you want us to bet on his survival like it’s some kind of game?” Her lip curls in disgust. “This interview is about the game that just occurred if you weren’t paying attention. Either you ask questions about the game or we can have security escort you out.” The reporter snorts, gazing between the two of you as a sneer curls over his face.

“You want to talk about professionalism? Where are the coaches? We can’t talk about the game without the actual coaching staff present.” Dragon is full-on seething now as you let your mind and body drift off into a sense of numbness.

“I’m a coach, thank you very much.” She snaps. “The goalie development coach and you can refer to me as Coach Simpson.” She enunciates her last name with a cool venom that makes the reporter’s eyes bug out as he realizes exactly who she is. “I’m sure my father will appreciate knowing that your news organization needs to be blacklisted from future press events for unprofessional and hostile behavior towards coaching and PR staff.” It’s at that moment that Jake appears, the first out of the locker room, dressed back in his pregame suit.

“What’s going on here, Coach?” He asks, eyes flitting between the reporter in Dragon’s sights, her tense form, and your barely-there presence.

“This reporter needs to be escorted out,” Dragon says coolly and the man begins to sputter as Jake nods, calling for security and they escort the reporter out of the press area. Jake and Dragon speak quietly for a moment before he places a gentle hand on your shoulder and you blink, coming back to yourself. You let him lead you down the hallway away from the eyes of the press.

“Hey Zam, let’s get you out of here. We’ll handle the rest of the interviews, just hold tight and then we can all go to the hospital together okay?” You nod numbly, not trusting your voice. “Hey?” You look up when Jake calls to you again and you see the concern in his eyes. “You did good, okay? You did so well. He’s going to be so proud of you.” You feel your heart squeeze at that and before you can move towards him, Jake pulls you into his arms. “I’m so proud of you, just hold tight for a little longer and we’ll go see him,” Jake promises before letting you go. Mickey’s heading towards the two of you and Jake nods to him. “Take care of her, I’m going to finish off these interviews and then we’re going straight to the hospital. Pack up Bradshaw’s stuff.” Mickey nods, moving to stand next to you as Jake heads back down the hall.

When he’s out of sight, Mickey turns to you, concern evident in his brown eyes and then you crumble with a heaving sob. He catches you and holds you tightly against his chest as the sobs overtake you.

“I can’t lose him!” You sob into his chest and Mickey’s arms tighten. “I can’t! I just got him, I can’t lose him!” You’re shaking uncomfortably at this point. “I can’t lose any more people, Mickey, I can’t! I still miss her, I can’t miss him too, it’ll kill me, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.” You know you’re being loud and that there’s a chance that someone will hear your sobs but you can’t find it in yourself to care anymore. “I need him! I need Bradley!” You start begging to whom you’re not sure but Mickey steels himself before shifting to try and get you back on your feet.

“Okay, let’s go.” You blink, sobs caught in your throat at his words.

“W-what?”

“Let’s go,” he says again, his gaze hard yet full of love and concern. “Let’s go see Bradley.”

“B-but Jake said-“ Mickey shakes his head.

“I don’t care what Jake said, they can catch up after the press event is over. We’re going now.” Relief and thankfulness flood through you but you can’t form the words. Mickey’s features soften gently and he starts to pull you down another hallway. “Come on, let’s go Zam.” You follow after him, tripping over your feet to keep up. You’re not sure where he’s going but you’re too emotionally exhausted to ask. Suddenly a voice calls out behind you, and you stop, turning towards the voice.

“Zam!” Lucas is sprinting after you, dressed in his suit, hair sticking up waywardly from running his hands through it. His eyes widen when he sees your face and you’re sure you look like a wreck. “Is he…” his face is a mask of fear and you shake your head quickly.

“I don’t know, we haven’t heard anything. We're going to the hospital now.” He nods slowly, processing the news.

“How’re you getting to the hospital?” He asks, finally, and Mickey answers.

“I’m going to call an Uber.” Lucas looks at him like he’s insane.

“No, you’re not, I’m driving. Do you know which hospital?” You give him the name that Bugs had texted you, the only update she'd provided so far and then you and Mickey follow him.

***

When the three of you reach the hospital, you’re all on edge as you burst into the ER. You march up to the desk, “I’m looking for Bradley Bradshaw?” You ask, breathlessly and the nurse gives you a shrewd look.

“I’m afraid this is a hospital, not a zoo, we respect the privacy of all our patients regardless of their celebrity status.” You blink, surprised by her response as you realize that she thinks you’re from the press or even a fan. You shake your head.

“I’m on his staff.” You fumble for your badge and show it to her and she gives you another long look before her eyes drift to the boys and her eyes widen in recognition at the sight of Lucas.

“Ma’am, we really need to see Bradley,” he says and you can tell he’s fighting past his own hysteria right now. He fumbles for his wallet before flashing his ID. “Please.” She looks between him and his ID and then at you and Mickey before she straightens.

“This way,” and she leads the three of you through a set of doors and towards an elevator. The four of you ride up a few floors before the doors open onto a quiet hallway. She leads you past the nurses’ station where some of the staff stop and gawk at the sight of Lucas and Mickey as you follow the nurse. She leads you to a door and opens it.

Your heart jumps as you take in the sight of Bradley asleep in a hospital bed, a bandage around his head and his face swollen from the hits he took from the other defenseman. The steady beep of his heart monitor eases your mind with its steady rhythm. Next to the bed, slumped on an uncomfortable-looking couch is Bugs. She seems to be asleep too. Maverick and Dare are nowhere to be found. You go to his side instantly, your hand finding his, dodging the tubes attached to it to slide your fingers into them. You squeeze gently.

“Hey Bear, I’m here. I’m sorry it took me so long, but I’m here.” You whisper as tears stream down your cheeks in relief at seeing him alive. You reach your other hand to brush his curls off his forehead gently. You want nothing else than to climb into the bed beside him and curl up against his chest but you turn to address the nurse but she’s gone. Mickey is arranging Bugs so she can lie down and hopefully avoid a crick in the neck as Lucas approaches Bradley tentatively, clearly wanting to give you space. You smile at him and motion for him to come closer and he does.

“Hey brother,” he whispers and you feel your heart clench with love. “It’s me, I’m here.” He hesitates before adding. “You don’t have to worry about Zam, I’ll take care of her until you’re back up and running.” You gaze at him and he turns to you then. “I mean that. Whatever you need? All you have to do is ask. I know you’ve got other people. It looks like you have a good support system, but if you ever need anything. You can always call me.” You smile and hug Lucas and he pulls you close.

“Thank you.” You whisper. “For everything.” Lucas shakes his head against your back.

“He would do the same for me, more even. We’re family. Welcome to the fold.” You smile softly as he lets you go. Sound comes from where Mickey’s standing by Bugs, his phone pressed up to his ear and you can hear an angry voice on the other end as Mickey winces. He mouths Jake’s name at you before excusing himself out into the hallway.

At the sound of the door, Bugs shifts, stretching before she spots you and Lucas. “Zam!” She yelps as she attempts to stand up too quickly and almost falls over, grabbing the wall for support. You cross over to her and wrap her in a hug that she returns once she gets her bearings.

As you pull away you can’t hold the question in any longer. “How is he?” You whisper, almost afraid to ask.

She smiles at you and squeezes your shoulder gently. “He’s perfectly fine. He cut his head on part of his helmet when he fell since it loosened during the fight, but other than that and some minor cuts and bruises, he’s going to be just fine. He wasn’t even concussed. Don’t worry we double-checked. Mav insisted on brain scans just to be sure, so he’s being kept overnight for observation as well as those scans first thing in the morning, but the doctors say he’s going to make a full recovery. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding and suddenly the exhaustion of the evening catches up to you. You sway and Bugs just manages to grab your arms as you start collapsing. Lucas moves quickly, gathering you into his arms and helping Bugs move you to the couch where she was just sleeping.

“Hey, hey, hey, easy there.” He says with wide eyes. “I’m going to find you some water.” He looks at Bugs, “You’ll stay with her?” Bugs is about to answer when Mickey sticks his head back in the room. His eyes brighten as he spots Bugs.

“Oh thank god, Bugs I’m going to need your help, Jake’s on the way and he’s PISSED.” Bugs sighs and looks back at you.

“Are you going to be okay?” She asks. “We’ll be right back, just sit tight.” You nod wearily and she and Lucas head after Mickey, Lucas pausing at the door to give you one last look.

You wave him off with a small smile and then you’re finally alone with Bradley. Despite your promise to stay put you push to your feet, kicking your heels off and padding across the cold floor to Bradley’s bed. You know better, you really do, but right now you just need to feel him, to convince yourself that he’s going to be fine and you need more than words and promises. Thankfully he’s already slightly to one side of the bed, even as a bigger guy, and you use the last of your dwindling strength to pull yourself onto the bed beside him, being careful of the various tubes and wires. You curl against his chest, resting your ear over his heart, letting the steady rhythm and rise and fall of his chest soothe you. In one final act of selfishness, you lift his arm and place it over you, reveling in the gentle weight, reminding you that he’s there. “I miss you, Bear.” You whisper then, as you trace odd shapes on his chest through the hospital gown. It smells sterile and chemical like the hospital but if you focus you can get a whiff of his normal scent under it all, the smell of sweat combined with his woodsy cologne. You feel your body starting to feel heavy with sleep as you finally speak the three words that have been dancing on your tongue for weeks, and trapped in your mouth all night because all you could think about is what if you never got to tell him? What if you never got the chance? “I love you, Bradley. And I need you, so you have to be okay. I want to go home. I need my home.” Tears stream down your cheek and wet the hospital gown. You feel like you’ve cried enough tonight to fill an ocean and somehow you’re still not cried out. “I love you, Bear.” You whisper, but he doesn’t respond and the exhaustion combined with the steady beat of his heart lulls you to sleep in his arms.

#san diego dogfighters au #San Diego dogfighters #San Diego dogfighters hockey au #you catch more bees with honey // goldenseresinretriever #ycmbwh // goldenseresinretriever #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #rooster x you #rooster x reader #top gun maverick hockey au #top gun maverick #top gun #TGM #no use of y/n

15 notes · View notes

sleepy-pigeonn · 2 months

Text

A Look Into My Hades Fan Animatic

I don't know to call this other than a collection of resources and reflections about the process of making the animatic. Hopefully it's interesting or helpful for someone. But feel free to ask questions if you'd like clarification/more info!

___

Inspiration (A non-exhaustive list)

It's possible that I've seen/read fan works that may have inspired me unconsciously, so there's no way I can possibly include references to them all. However, the ones I listed here are ones I recall looking back at repeatedly.

The fancomics "First Flight" and "Bonehead Boon" by Liana Sposto

Robbie Elliot Art's animation "Take Tonight"

Toastyglow's animation "Glitter & Gold" and PMV "This Year"

Storyboards posted by Paige Caldwell (@/papernewt) on Instagram

Zag admiring some of these beautiful fanworks.

The following sections are below the cut: References, Songs, Script and Thumbnails, Studies, Drawing, Editing, Random Facts

___

References

These were very helpful to creating the animatic!!

In-game references

Hades Wiki

3D Model of Zagreus by @/chunyou_ on Twitter

I also used screenshots I took while playing

General references

"How To Direct A Fight Scene" by Howard Wimshurst

Poses from the photo libraries of The Pose Archives and AdorkaStock

3D Model of Male and Female Heads by William Nguyen

I also just looked stuff up online or took videos of myself acting out some of the movements.

___

Songs

I thought of basing my animatic on any of the following songs:

"Icarus" by Bastille

"Dirty" by grandson

"Underworld" by CYPRSS *

"I'm Still Here (Jim's Theme)" by John Rzeznik

"I'm Gonna Win" by Rob Cantor **

"Could Have Been Me" by the Struts

They all have a varied degree of "Zagreus vibes" but I wanted a song that could be used to show as much of the game as possible. "Could Have Been Me" was the song that I could imagine more things for, so it is the one I ended up using.

* Look at this awesome Zagreus fan art based on this song

** Some of the lyrics for this song are so fitting for Zag but others are pretty ooc.

___

Script and Thumbnails

I've seen other artists annotate the lyrics to the song they are working with and attempted that here. But that process is a little confusing for me, so I kept these descriptions vague. It was helpful in keeping track of ideas, since some of them are faster to write down than draw. Especially for fight sequences.

I used Storyboarder for the thumbnails. I opted for this program because (1) it lets you add an audio file and (2) it has very basic tools. It can be used in a more nuanced way than I did. However, with 3 and a half minutes of frames to work out I needed something that helps me draft down ideas efficiently and without overwhelming me. And this was pretty good program for that.

The script and thumbnails happened in tandem a lot of the time. Think of it as brainstorming, both in vague writing and loose drawings. At this point I am trying to see if these ideas flow with the song, if they are readable, if they achieve what I had in mind.

___

Studies

Okay. So I am happy with my ideas. Now. How do I make sure the drawings are identifiable as taking place in the game?

This is where those in-game references came in handy. I looked back at my thumbnails and made a list of everything I would need. From characters to locations. Once I had these down, I made folders to make sure everything would be nice and organized.

I tend to avoid backgrounds like the plague. However, for some of these shots to work I need to give the viewer a sense of where the action is taking place. I know that I struggle imagining three-dimensional spaces while drawing digitally. So, using my thumbnails and the references I gathered, I did studies of all the locations I thought would be important using good old paper and ink. This also served to fine-tune shot compositions.

___

Drawing

The animatic itself was drawn using Krita. Usually, I worked on all the backgrounds using the studies as a base and then added the characters. My drawings started very rough for a couple of reasons. The main one was that with ~200 frames ahead of me I was afraid of letting my inner perfectionist get me stuck. I kept reminding myself that, being an animatic, the drawings could be rough as long as they are still readable. As I got more comfortable using Krita, I was able to create cleaner backgrounds.

Even so, I hit an art block around the two minute mark where I Could Not Draw. This is where I heavily relied on those References I Keep Talking About. They were my savior and are the main cause for the more "finished" look towards the end of the animatic. I think the best example of this was the shot featuring Thanatos. I was deep in the art block territory by the time I needed to go from thumbnail (top left) to final frame. No matter how much I redrew them, I didn't like how they turned out (top right). To work this out, I found references from The Pose Archives and used them as a guide (bottom left) to get a sketch that I liked (bottom right). I felt this look was more sketchy than I've would like so I ended up cleaning it. I followed a similar process for most of the frames following this one. As a result, the final frames of the video turned out cleaner.

___

Editing

Once I had all my frames ready to go, I imported them into HitFilm Express and made a composite shot where I basically just matched the timing of the frames to the music. Frames that have camera movements (like the very first frame) were made in their own composite shots. I ended up having to delete some frames so some sections didn't feel rushed. In the end, there's like 5 versions of the animatic because I kept making little changes. The biggest was adding Zag's dialogue at the beginning since I felt the video started up too quiet. I don't have any images for this stage. Please have this comparison instead.

___

Random Facts ✨

Adding color was a last minute decision, it was mainly because I thought a colorful sunset would be prettier. My original plan was to shift the gray tones of the background into more yellowish tones once Zagreus reaches the surface, but keeping everything monochromatic.

If you pause quickly on the very last frame you'll see I accidentally made Zag's leggings black instead of red. I was on auto pilot at this point. Adding color was worth it overall but so time consuming. My respects to people who do fully colored animatics.

I wish I made Meg a pinker (or blue) hue rather than purple. In my mind I saved purple for characters related to Nyx (hence why Hypnos, Than, Chaos, and Charon have shades of purple). But I guess it is a sweet detail because of how Meg confides in Nyx in the game.

I kept a log of all my progress. Apparently getting the thumbnails done took about five months (August 2023 - January 2024)?? Anyways I leave you with these entries.

___

Thank you for reading! I hope it goes without saying but I really appreciate all the support this animatic has received. All the hearts and comments and tags, they mean a lot.

#chbm animatic #art box #hades game #crossing my fingers that all links work

14 notes · View notes

smolghostbot · 9 months

Text

A Little Role Playing

Because this scenario was rotating in my brain like a rotisserie chicken for at least a week. This was meant to be more of a microfiction but turns out I can't be brief to save my life.

(in my anxious opinion this is a little bit zestier than what I would normally post but it's still firmly a g/t story. Just keep that in mind.)

Word Count: 1.5k

CWs: consensual fearplay gone too far, mouthplay and vore vibes, vague spicytime allusions and that is definitely the intent but the fun turns unfun before anything serious happens

======

“I- I’ll never tell you anything, human!” shouted the diminutive voice at the towering form in front of them.

“Hehehe… I have ways of making a tiny little thing like you talk…,” spoke the form, a man named Evan. He quickly changed his tone, though, as he added in a whisper, “Was the laugh too much? Too on-the-nose?”

“The laugh was fine, babe, but don’t overdo it,” quietly responded Avery, caught in Evan’s loose fist. After quickly clearing their throat, they continued shouting, “I’ll never talk! You’ll never get me to reveal where my town is! I’ll take our secret to the grave, on my honor!”

Evan rolled his eyes at this. The human had regularly questioned why his borrower partner was so in love with this scenario, but based on their past experiences, it was always the one that made Avery tick. Evan simply played along as best as he could on days where they agreed to play out Avery’s fantasies, and this was one such day.

“Now now, little borrower, that’s a lot of words, but not a lot of answers. I said to tell me where your town is, or else!” Evan growled, as his fist gave a quick squeeze to Avery.

“N-never!”

“Very well then… if you’re no good as an informant, I could find another use for you…” the human said, giving himself time to think over what to do as a threat. They had played this little game often, and this was always the part where things tended to diverge. What direction things progressed in depended on the mood of the two partners, but Avery was very clear about what they wanted out of their game tonight: Scare me.

Evan thought back to when they first met, when he had discovered Avery attempting to steal food from his pantry. The little thing was terrified of Evan back then, begging and pleading for their life before Evan had even said a word. From the sound of it, Avery was missing that thrill, that exciting fear of being caught by a human, and Evan decided to commit to the act in order to please his partner.

“Hm… what to do with you…” he murmured, before they were both caught off-guard as Evan’s stomach loudly rumbled. Evan decided to run with this as inspiration as he continued his “evil” speech… this was a direction things hadn’t gone in before.

“You know… if you won’t say anything of help to me, perhaps you could help me in another way…” Evan spoke, as he did his best diabolical grin. He saw Avery’s face begin to pale as they were moved closer to the human’s mouth.

“H-hey, wait, I don’t know what you’re thinking about, but…” stammered Avery, in what sounded like their role-playing voice. That simply wouldn’t do, thought Evan, as he spoke again.

“Oh? Your wandering eyes tell me that you know exactly what I’m thinking about, tiny one. Tell me where the others are, or I may help myself to the nice little snack in my hand…”

The fear in Avery’s voice was quickly becoming more real. “H-hey, uh, I don’t know if I like the direction this is going…” They said, as they gulped in nervousness. Evan only continued to smile as he spoke, “What’s wrong? I thought you wanted to be scared? Is the little nugget chickening out?”

Avery could only stutter as they thought of what to say. “C-come on, Ev, we’ve talked about how terrifying this kind of thing is to me… you were supposed to, um, you know…”

Unfortunately, their words fell on deaf ears as Evan began to laugh, a laugh which was somewhere between their fake laugh from earlier and the real deal. He continued to hold his borrower partner near his mouth, moving them out of his fist and into a loose grip, held between his index finger and thumb. “What’s wrong, little borrower? You wanted to be afraid, didn’t you? You love being afraid… I bet you’ve been wanting me to do this for ages, haven’t you?”

“N-no, no seriously Evan, not like this… knock it off…” whimpered Avery, being sure to emphasize the use of Evan’s name, which was their signal that things were turning very real.

“Oh no, is the little one getting scared? Tell me you’re scared and maybe I’ll let you go… maybe,” chuckled the human.

“Evan… I- I know you won’t hurt me, b-but, you’re acting very weird right now… it’s scaring me… can we change the script?” pleaded Avery, who was staring at the grinning, gaping maw that was moving right in front of them.

Evan chuckled, now was his chance to truly give his partner the adrenaline rush they craved. “The script? There’s no script, little borrower. This is very, very, real… and you’re about to become a very little meal… any last words?”

The fear on his partner’s face was palpable, and Evan could feel Avery’s heartbeat soaring. “Evan… Evan stop. Safe word time. Evan… Evan!” They cried, as Evan moved them closer to his mouth. Avery could feel the human’s breath on their skin as they were more close enough that Evan could easily bite down on them.

“S-s-seriously, Evan, Evan stop! Th-this isn’t funny! Game’s over! S-stop!”

But Evan ignored their pleas, gently moving the borrower close to their tongue, and giving them a small, but still gentle lick across the front of their body, causing Avery to shiver in fear.

“H-hey, s-stop! Say something! Stop this! Evan, I know this isn’t you!” Avery cried, desperate for this game to end. The human leaned their head back, so that the terrified borrower was dangling above the gaping mouth. As the human’s eyebrows furrowed, Avery continued to plead.

“Evan, Evan please, don’t do this, I-I don’t know what I did to upset you but this isn’t the solution, we can talk about this, please! I… I don’t want to die, Evan, please! I’m sorry, for whatever I did I’m sorry!”

With that, Evan smiled a devious grin, before moving Avery down closer to his mouth… and giving them a quick kiss. “Was that the fear you-” he started to say, before noticing something was off. That kiss tasted… different than usual. As the human looked down at their partner, it became obvious that Avery was sobbing, face covered in tears. “P-please, please Evan don’t do this, please…” was all they kept muttering to themself, seeming to ignore the kiss entirely.

“Woah, hey, hey Aves, it’s okay,” Evan quickly stated, as he finally realized he may have gone too far. “You… you know I was just playing, right? It wouldn’t have been scary if I just stopped. You wanted me to be scary, remember?”

Avery was clearly in shock at they stammered, trying to form words. “I… I wanted you to scare me, not… not threaten to eat me! What… why would you… why did you do that?!”

“Woah, Aves, calm down, calm down, let me just, uh, put you down…”

“Don’t… don’t ‘Aves’ me right now, Evan! You almost killed me!” cried the borrower.

Evan knew that he should be calm, but he couldn’t help but rise to anger at Avery’s accusations. “I wasn’t going to actually eat you! I was just trying to scare you, like you asked me to do! You were the one whining that I was too predictable, so I mixed it up! You’re welcome!”

Avery flinched at Evan’s voice raising, and Evan could tell that Avery was uncharacteristically fearful. Normally, the little borrower was actually the more pushy one in the relationship, so to see them buckle like this was heartbreaking to Evan. “I- I’m sorry… I-I guess I did… y-you’re right, just… d-don’t do it again… please…”

Evan sighed and took a deep breath before trying to talk again. “Aves… I mean, Avery… I should be the one apologizing, I took things too far, but I just wanted to make you happy…”

“Just… just put me down, Evan.”

Evan complied, and placed Avery down on the floor, before getting on his knees on the floor to be as level as possible with the borrower.

“Look, I’m sorry… How about we wind down, watch some movies, and share an ice cream? We still have some of your favorite flavor left…” said Evan, trying to keep his tone as quiet as possible. However, the borrower had other plans.

“I… I want to go home… sorry, I think I just need… a little break from human time for now…”

Human time, Evan repeated mentally. That was a term Avery hadn’t used since they first started dating, when they were overwhelmed with the sheer size of the human, and needed to be around people their own size for a while.

“I… understand… I’m sorry again, Avery. Can you… forgive me? Please?”

“... I’ll be back in a day or two… we can talk then.” was all Avery said, as they turned and quickly walked towards the borrower hole in the wall.

#remember everybody: stop words exist for a reason #g/t #giant/tiny #g/t writing #g/t fearplay #g/t angst #macro/micro #my writing

34 notes · View notes