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theblacklewinsky · 2 months ago

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Note: Hey y'all! I hope y'all enjoy, the next one might be submissive Terry idkidk 🫣 kinda hate this one.

Perfect Gentleman. | Aaron Pierre.

Gentle!Terry Richmond x Black!Female Reader

Warnings: MNDI!! this story is 18+ with depictions but not limited to; sexual content ( penetrat!on, oral s3x ( m receiving), extreme language (cursing, sexual references) established relationship, slight daddy kink if you squint. Not proofread!

Summary: terry's been the perfect gentleman, maybe a little too gentle.

swear you can have me, you really one-of-one.

how you so nasty? you really one-of-one.

You eagerly scratched the itch away in your bitten up ankles. The mosquitoes out here in the Black Bayou had torn your exposed ankles up—and this was why camping wasn't your thing. You'd never complain though, any excuse to be with Terry was a good one.

"I told you to wear long socks," he chuckled looking back you and at how you'd scratched the skin on your ankles red, "all that gardenin' you do and you out here with no socks on," he softly lectured as you watched him pitch the tent, at his demand. He was such a gentleman.

You'd been dating Terry for over four months, you've both went on a plethora of dates, had the steamy first kiss, and even spent a night at each others apartment, but you still hadn't fucked yet. Was it you? You knew you had an Oscar worthy performance of your coy-innocent act that Terry ate up all of the time, but you weren't a prude. You couldn't count how many times you'd hinted, and seduced only to be met with more gentleness.

And you loved how patient, protective, and gentle he was with you. He was everything you'd practically asked for when you started dating. A nice man, a sweet man—and you got it, a full blown golden retriever boyfriend. He had so many amazing qualities, he was always on time arriving fifteen minutes early. Something he said was one of the most useful things he learned from his time in the Marine Corps. He was a full blown de-escalator, he never wanted to argue with you, always communicating as calmly as he could before coming to an understanding with you. He was gentle. But maybe he was too gentle? You wanted Terry in the worst ways. It didn't help that he stayed in good shape, gym four times a week, and his infinite morning runs kept him in tip-top shape.

You pouted, squinting your eyes as you looked at Terry from underneath the brim of the Nike bucket hat you'd retrieved from him. Although he was pitching the tent and the sun was currently beating down on him, he decided that, you, sitting in the shade doing nothing, needed the hat more. Such a man.

"You said come comfortable, and I garden in my crocs—that's what I came in!" You defended your reasoning for not wearing the socks that he did tell you to pack last night over a quick FaceTime call, but he did say come comfortable in the same sentence. "These mosquitos are relentless, baby, look at my ankles!" You frowned looking at how red and irritated the skin has gotten there even on your deep brown skin.

Of course Terry stopped his meddling with the tent and came over to assess your so badly injured ankles. He tsk'd softly his big hands cradling both of your ankles gently. Now push them behind my head! you eagerly thought feeling him touch you at all always sent shocks and shivers through your body.

"They eatin' my baby up," he somberly acknowledged rubbing his thumbs where the bites were firmly, "you put bug spray on like I told you?"

You nodded. "Yeah, just go and finish the tent," you dramatically sighed waiting to eagerly scratch at the bites, "I'll just be sitting over here, itchy, getting ate up." At least something was eating you up.

He brought your left ankle up to his lips casually, placing a soft kiss there before setting the both of them back down carefully. You almost moaned, it had been way too long. "stop scratchin' at em, you makin' em worse."

You looked at him, batting your eyelashes at him a dazed nod following right behind. He was so gorgeous, and it didn't help that he was so sweet and treated you like the absolute brat you were. He continued on with his quick work with the tent and you continued on with your sneaky scratching. After it was perfectly pitched, he got you inside as soon as it was done to rub a bit of alcohol on your itchy ankles and making you put on a pair of his socks that were way too big for you.

You frowned looking down at your legs later that night as you both set around the campfire, that you had gotten started. You hadn't forgotten all the survival tips your father had shown you. Terry focused on cooking the fish he and you caught earlier from the pier. He'd cleaned it and dissembled it himself. "These are puttin' a damper on my outfit, so not cute."

Terry chuckled, quickly flipping the searing fish over in the pan. Your eyes flickered over to him. "What?"

"You so country," he commented through a light chuckle, "damper?"

"That's not country!" You defended through a smile. "Everybody says damper!"

"Nobody says damper,"

"Does too!"

"Why you gotta be such a brat? Why you act like that?" He teased playfully, holding his hand out to you only to pull you up from your chair and into his lap. "Hm?" He hummed nuzzling his faced into your neck where he playfully nipped at the skin on your neck, knowing the ticklish effect it had on you.

You laughed hunching your shoulder up to push him away from the area, "stop!" The assault lasted a few more minutes before he reluctantly stopped, only when he seen the tears from your nonstop laughter, and how you cradled your aching stomach when you laughed.

"Brat," he mumbled in between persisting kisses to your lips. You happily returned each one, who were you to deny the brat allegations. They were very true. "Always gotta have yo way."

"You love how bratty I am," you retorted, trailing your own lingering kisses from his lips, to his jaw, to his neck.

"I do," he mumbled out an agreement making you laugh against his neck before continuing on, and you thought maybe, as his hands kneaded the back of your thighs and the undersides of your ass. But all that came undone when he urgently removed you from his lap in light hysterics about almost burning the fish.

The fish.

How could he even think about fish when he had your throbbing pussy in his lap, was he really blind to all this shit? Or was he just not sexually attracted to you? Or was he fucking celibate? The questions brought on a lingering insecurity. The rest of the night you were more distant, quiet, the situation left you a little embarrassed and salty. You'd never had a man be so indifferent to your advances. Or did he even see them as advances? Hell, you didn't know anymore.

Your distance and quiet demeanor didn't go unnoticed either Terry, who constantly made it his mission to see if you were okay and enjoying yourself. You answered the same all the time, yes, which did very little to comfort him—but he also didn't wanna push you into irritation.

"You sure you good, baby?" He asked later that night as you both settled into the cozy tent. You made sure to nestle yourself into your cute, pinky, sleeping bag. It was so you.

"Yeah." You simply answered with a nod, forcing the weak smile. Such a liar. But you weren't gonna admit that the situation left you feeling a little salty. You didn't wanna bring the situation up at all, you'd much rather forget it.

"You sure? You not actin' like yourself, baby. You want me to take you home?" There he went. Being so him. Always being so caring.

"No, I'm fine. It's nothing really, im just..itchy still." You seamlessly lied. Or maybe not. You were still itchy.

Terry decided not to press the issue instead making sure he got as close as possible to you, something he always did when you slept together, he loved being right up under you—you didn't contest to it. Ever. You both gave your good nights, and Terry made sure to turn off the LED lantern lamp you both had in the tent. A soft and easy silence falling over the both of you. Terry's soft breathing, body heat, chirping crickets and the pitch black were enough to lull you to sleep. And they almost did, but damn, you were still itchy.

You brought your knees to your chest, hastily scratching at your extremely itchy ankles, a heavy, draws out sigh from the temporary but almost euphoric relief skipped past your lips.

"Stop scratchin'." Terry's deep voice but through the silence, the raspiness on the edge of his voice attributed to the sleep that had took him in quick. The words halted your actions quickly as you tried to quietly morph into a comfortable position.

"I'm not," you spoke quietly.

"But you were."

His damn hearing. He heard everything.

"Well I wouldn't have been if I was doing something else." Your tone snappy but the suggestiveness fore fronted the sassiness.

"Somethin' else like what?" Terry questioned.

You huffed immediately, sitting up abruptly from your sleeping bag and flickering the lantern on. "Are you really that clueless?" You exclaimed almost, looking at his ever so lost expression. "Terry, are not you sexually attracted to me?"

Terry looked at you as if you'd grown two heads. Like he couldn't understand why you'd ask him such a question, like you didn't know he was a full blown raging man. "Why would you even ask me that, of course im sexually attracted to you, baby."

"You don't act like it," you quietly murmured, "it's like every time I try, you pull back. What is it? I really thought I was obvious enough with everything."

And you were. Terry wasn't ignorant to your advances. But he also wasn't ignorant to your past relationships and the men that you dealt with. Full blown sex addicts a few of them seemed to be, and some of them seemed unable to form a real bond with you without sex. He wanted to prove to you that he actually liked you, that he wanted to get to know you past sex. That he wanted this to last. It'd taken copious amounts of restraint for him to slyly deter away from the advances. Copious amounts.

He wasn't exactly sure how he made it to four months himself, without caving in. Maybe it was his serious he'd gotten about your relationship, maybe it was genuine like for you that made it somewhat easy. He was still a man though, taking care of himself when he was finally away from you.

He said your name slowly, sitting up himself, "im utterly, completely, and deeply sexually attracted to you. But I wanna show you that when it comes to keeping this together, sex is indifferent to me. I don't want you to think we need that shit to connect. I genuinely like you, alot."

"I like you too, but I already knew that Terry," he softly laughed, the weight of the insecurities dropping off your shoulders. You couldn't believe that once again, all this time, the lack of sex was catered to his feelings about you. You were gonna fuck this man so good. So good. "I knew that at the end of the first date when you didn't try to kiss me when you dropped me off." You giggled at the recanting of the memory.

"I wanted you to feel it though."

"And I do feel it," you slinked even closer to him, hand trailing up his thigh, "I feel it so much." You looked up at him, batting your long lashes.

Terry sat there slack mouthed, brows furrowed, his stormy eyes looking down at you with bursting pleasure and astonishment as he watched you suck him down. How the fuck did you get so good at this shit? You'd completely covered his shaft in your saliva, you were loud and sloppy. Just how he liked it. Throat so tight around him, every time you nuzzled him in. You were dazed yourself, tasting him, having him in the back of your throat where you craved him so many times before. You were savoring all of this.

Your hands wrapped themselves around his girthy length, stroking them at a brisk pace, your wet mouth guiding them in their dizzying up and down movements. His grunts and groans of approval only furthered you to please him more. You looked up at him, eyes watery, and soft as you took him down, spit bubbles formed around him, as you nuzzled him in deeper into your mouth. Removing a spit soaked hand, you nuzzled that into your soaked panties, pleasing him, pleased you.

"Sss-shitttt," he drug out through a groan, his strong hand grasping the back of your neck, as he bucked himself up into your mouth, relentlessly fucking your throat. You shut your watery, burning eyes letting him use you how he wanted. "Fuck, eat that dick up baby. You do that shit so good," he slurred through his persisting moans.

That only furthered your arousal, which furthered your efforts. The rough gags and choking from you was almost enough to send him over the edge. Almost. You finally pulled back, giving him a chance to recover and giving yourself a chance to catch your ailing breathing.

You stroke him off, spitting down on his shaft in your hands, eagerly stroking the lubrication in, leaning your head down to suck one of his balls into your mouth; gently. You knew too much. How did you know so much?

"Why you so nasty?" He mumbled grabbing your chin once you were done tending to his balls. "Hm?" He hummed before pressing your wet lips to his own. His kiss rushed, sloppy, and deep. His tongue searched every inch of your mouth, his lips sucking your own into his mouth.

Oh he was nasty like that?

"Move," he knocked your hands away from his still hardened dick, "take that shit off." He comments taking heed to the articles of clothing you still had on, his own hands slithering under the oversized shirt you'd put on for bed.

"But I wanted to make you cum—" you started, wiping your wet mouth with the back of your hand once he eagerly pulled your t-shirt off, nipples immediately pebbling due to the exposure of the cool night air in the tent. You didn't get to finish your sentence before Terry's lips were already latched onto the flesh on your neck, creating red blemishes as he cascaded down your body skillfully.

"You bout to," he mumbled attaching his lips to yours once again, "open up," he tapped your jaw firmly, "lemme see." The firm taps to your jaw ignited the fire and aching need in your belly, a moan slipped past your lips as you opened like he asked.

You watched, dazed, as he spat down into your mouth. Oh, he was nasty.

It was like yin and yang to you. This couldn't be your Terry. Not the Terry that bought you flowers every Sunday and never let you lift a finger Terry. This was a different Terry, nasty Terry. Impatient Terry. Demanding Terry. Just what you wanted.

"Oh my god-uhhhh!" You slurred out through a moan. Terry's vice grip on your locs matched the same vice grip you currently had him in right now. He had you positioned on all fours, one hand on your hip to steady his hard, dizzying strokes. He was fucking you hard, too hard. Too good. Your thighs trembled beneath you, knees threatening to buckle as he slammed into your heated core repeatedly. It's like he knew exactly where that spot was located. "Right there, daddy! Right fucking there," you whimpered, face pressed pathetically on the pallet beneath you.

"I know, i feel that shit," he groaned, sending another hard smack to your ass cheek, the recoil from his pelvis constantly slamming into your ass had him in a complete daze. Four months he kept himself from this, restrained himself from what he knew had to be good. But he didn't expect it feel like this. "Wettin' me right the fuck up—mm mm, keep that shit right there, you better not fuckin' lay down, keep that shit open just like that." He mumbled out into the tent, taking into head your trembling legs. The lewd sounds of your sopping wet pussy, followed by the loud slapping of your skin together filled your tent and your empty head.

"Fuckkkk," you groaned out, managing to sit up in your elbows, acrylics clawing at the covers beneath you, your eyes crossed as you felt his tip kissing a little too deep, "so deep, baby."

"Mhm," he hummed pulling your head back with his tight grip on your hair, his lust filled glare looking right down into your own crossed eyes, "right where i should be. Look at you, takin' this dick like a good girl. This what you wanted right?"

"Yesssss," you managed to fully get out, a series of breath taking moans following. He was giving you exactly what you wanted; hard, rough shit. He was fucking you like he hated you, like he had a point to prove. This shit was only making you delusional did he not understand the type of you he would get now?

"Yeah? Wanted daddy to dig yo' shit out just like this, huh?" He nodded watching you nod in response, your breaths coming out in a series of heavy puffs. "I know you did, can tell by the way you creamin' on my dick."

"Shittt!" You gasped out the exploitive, planting your hands flat against the ground, mustering yo whatever weak energy you had to fuck yourself back against him, working toward your own impending orgasm. "I'm finna cum!" You rushed out.

Terry pulled you back toward his chest, your small frame engulfed in his as you sat promptly in his lap getting impaled in the most delicious way possible. You felt lightheaded, high, and perfect all at once. "Babyyyy, im cummin'!" You whined out.

"Keep tellin' me, do that shit. Lemme feel you cum on my dick," he grunted, the lewd works making you clench around him as they clearly sent you tumbling over the edge. Terry mocking your long, loud and drawn out moans with his own. His lips attacking wherever they could on your exposed neck. His impaling strokes never stopped, even when it was clear you'd completely rode it out. He kept fucking you, sending you into a deep place of overstimulation. When was he ever planning to cum?

"Look at you," he mumbled a smug smirk on his lips, hand firmly holding your slacked jaw in his hand, "dick got you dumb—breathe through that shit, baby." He tapped your jaw, repeatedly. The sight of you alone, plus the constant contracting of your walls around him had earned you a deliciously sounding groan. You hadn't even realized you were holding your breath until he spoke up.

Everything was too much. It was too much to focus on. The pleasure, his voice, his kisses. Forgetting to breathe in the middle of your overstimulation was warranted.

Your breaths cane tumbling back to you fast, hard and quick you panted. Body trembling in Terrys grasp, as dared to lean forward feeling another orgasm approaching, but this one felt harder. Body-shattering. It hurt and felt so good at the same time.

"Fuck, ima nut baby," Terry grunted in your ear. "Pussy so good, why yo shit so good like this?" Finally.

"Cum in my pussy, please daddy," was the first and only thing you could get out, not even warning him about your oncoming orgasm. This one cramped everything, the tightness in your stomach didn't subside but seemed to get tighter. Your thighs were numb, but your legs ached. The squeal you let out left your throat raw, and that's why you didn't hear Terry when he finally announced that he was cumming, but you felt him for sure, right where you told him to.

You felt Terry's lips against your jaw, kissing you repeatedly. Telling you how well you did for him, how he couldn't believe he kept himself away from that for four months. How good it was. These were finally the words that lulled you off to a blissful sleep, you'd finally got what you wanted. There you were, fucked out In a tent, with cum leaking out of you. Such a whore. A happy whore.

still no tag list! 😭 hope you enjoy this little filler! 💕

#aaron pierre #fine as fuck #fine black men #terry richmond #black writers #rebel ridge #black!fem!reader

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itwasanangryinch · 3 months ago

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only if you're allergic to the protein chain they inject into you with their bites

do we think vampire bites would itch like mosquito bites or…?

#hence why Some People are mosquito bite neutral and others simply Can Not Stop itching when they get a bite

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bigification · 5 months ago

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Carrier

The intersection of 4th and 7th is clos-

Click

That's that me espre-

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Reports of a disease carried by mosquitos have flooded north America. Hospitals can't keep up and the CDC is struggling to contain it. Professionals are suggesting to stay inside as much as possible, and to wear bug spray when outdoors. Symptoms of the disease ar-

Click

"This is bullshit, it's just fear mongering. People talk about world ending shit all the time and it's always nothing." Kane said as he pulled up to the south valley hiking trail. A trail he visited often to escape the real world. It was usually busy, but today it was completely empty. "Such a beautiful day and everyone's wasting away inside." He scoffs.

Kane parked his car and stepped out into the beaming sunlight. "Good day to work on my tan." He said as he pulled off his plaid shirt and headed down to the trail.

Only a few minutes into the hike and the bugs come out. They usually never bother him, but that radio broadcast was stuck in his head.

Bzzzz- Smack!

"Ah shit!" He yelled as he smacked the back of his neck. That bite hurt a lot more than he expected. "Maybe I should be a bit more careful." Kane muttered under his breath as he slipped his shirt back on.

He couldn't quite get comfortable after that. He was paranoid about the mosquitos. That bite he got earlier kept getting itchier, and his chest felt really tight. As he was walking he kept unconsciously unbuttoning his shirt. Each button came off with a sigh of relief, but then the tightness would return and he would have to remove another button. Until the shirt was completely open.

"Man I'm getting tired." Kane said, out of breath. He stopped hiking for a moment. He wiped the sweat off his face, wondering why he was having so much trouble on a trail he had done dozens of times before. His hand drifted to his stomach to scratch an itch, and he nearly jumped in shock when his hand sunk into the soft fat on his belly.

"What the fuck!" He said poking at the round belly that protruded out of his open shirt. He then noticed the soft moobs that hung above them, adding to his shock.

"What the fuck is happening to me!? Was it the mosquitos?" He said, panicking. He was running short of breath as he felt all of the soft rolls of fat that covered his entire body. His plump ass and thick thighs that threatened to burst out of his pants. His double chin hidden under his beard. Even his bulging love handles that spilled over his waistline. He was getting fat.

"Oh fuck." He said as he took off his hat and rubbed his thick hands through his hair. His hairline started to recede and the hair that was left was thinning.

"I... I gotta get back." He said as he finally caught his breath.

He turned and started running back. But it was getting harder with the extra padding on his body. He felt his gut and his moobs bounce with every step, weighing him down. His tightening pants restricted his movement, and his increasing weight made it harder for him to move.

It felt like forever, but he finally made it back to his car. He didn't want to look, but it felt like his gut had doubled in size on the way back. And he doesn't even want to know what his hair looks like.

He sits in the car, sliding the seat back to even fit inside. He thought about whether to go home or to a hospital or what. He decided on a hospital, and stepped on the gas. His heart was racing, but something in his mind was telling him to relax. Almost as if nothing had even gone wrong on the hike. Why was he even on a hike, hikes are for pussies anyway. He just couldn't wait to get home and have a beer, maybe watch the game.

He pulled into his driveway, completely forgetting that he planned on going to the hospital. Why go to the hospital when there's nothing wrong with him, he's exactly the man he wants to be.

As he got into his house, he unzipped his fly, relieving the pressure in his pants with a sigh. He grabbed some leather and threw it on, thinking it looked sick. And finally he grabbed a cold one and a cigar.

He sat on his front porch, feeling the leather wrap around his man tits and his bulging gut lay on his lap. He cranked the radio as he lit his cigar.

-and the wear bug spray when outdoors. Symptoms of the disease are rapid weight gain, increase in testosterone, and an increase in aggressive and confident behavior-

Bzzzz- Smack!

"Hehe, why would a man want it any other way."

- Carrier B-Sides -

Father and son take vacation in Florida. The duo got bitten several times over their vacation and remained unphased by the drastic changes done to their bodies. Due to the amount of bites by infected mosquitos, the father and son have gained the most weight of any known victim so far. The pair insist that nothing is wrong, despite pictures taken before the trip placing them at 160 and 200 pound respectfully. The two now weigh 360 and 320 pounds respectfully, and their credit cards show them buying new clothes nearly everyday, starting from larges to now five XLs that they're wearing now. Both have been taken in for guaranteeing, and for additional research.

Sports teams around the world have been destroyed by the spread of the disease. An increasing amount of players are showing up to practices and games unrecognizable from the men they used to be. Many have become overweight and overly aggressive, making them unable to play. Teams are also reporting an unprecedented amount of sexual relations in between players. Most major sports organizations have been put on pause until things stabilize.

People are starting to wonder whether certain politicians are fit to do their jobs after infection. Many become impulsive and erratic, with little ability to think for the future. Many politicians and world leaders have begun having secret meetings without any infected people, but the disease has wiped out many of these politicians. Below is a before and after of one such politician one week ago and yesterday. Conspiracies have also been spreading that government officials who have been infected have begun intentionally infected others in order to take over entire governments.

Local Sheriff was in charge of temporarily holding infected individuals before they could be quarantined. The sheriff was bitten by one of the infected men. He soon started to show symptoms, he grew so fat that be burst out of his uniform. He then released the infected men, who then wreaked havoc on the small town. This was the first record case of the infection spreading human to human.

A couple left their window open during a romantic dinner they had for an anniversary. One of the men was bitten by a mosquito during their dinner, but hadn't shown signs of infection. The infected make them brought his boyfriend to their bedroom. The infected man started to show symptoms while having sex. He started to grow visibly fatter. He started to get more aggressive with his partner. His partner showed concern but did not stop the situation. The infected man finished inside of his partner, who quickly started to show signs of infection. He grew about as far as his partner had. This was the first reported case for the disease being sexually transmitted.

#male tf #masculine #fat tf #hairy #male wg #reality change #male transformation #muscle tf

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mikkomacko · 10 months ago

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Only Devils in the Building

Episode One: Elevator from Hell

Nico Hischier x Reader, Platonic Jack Hughes x reader

Warnings: none

99 Hudson was the residential center of Jersey. It’s the epitome of wealth and elegance. Anyone who is anyone in Jersey lives at the 99 Hudson. From rich businessman to local celebrities to Hoboken models, 99 Hudson has got it all.

Including an absurd amount of New Jersey Devils.

Three weeks into living at the 99 I met Jack Hughes. AirPods tucked into my ears, I hit play on the Buff City Boys podcast, the familiar voice of Tony Granzia flooding through. It was probably a bad idea to be listening to the work of my former employer only three weeks after being fired but I couldn’t help it. It was the mosquito bite I had to itch, the acne spot I had to pick at, the chapped lip I couldn’t stop gnawing on.

I needed to hear everything from him.

I didn’t hear the man come up behind me, I didn’t even see him until the elevator had reached the 69th floor and his presence crowded behind me to get in. He was impatient and fidgety, standing directly in front of the closed doors and tapping his foot impatiently.

The Yankees logo on his backwards hat caught my attention first, my lips pursing with distaste at the sight. Then I noticed the way his ears stuck out, elvish and funky with his curls tucked behind them.

The elevator continued its descent and I finished eyeing him up and down just in time for him to turn over his shoulder and look at me. Icy blue eyes locked into mine, and a crooked smile took over his face for a moment before his thin lips opened to speak. Almost instantly, I realized who he was, familiar with the face of the middle Hughes brother that’s caused envy in every New York hockey team. I watched him speak, hiding my amusement when he titled his head, confused with my lack of response.

Cheeks turning pink, his already youthful face looked even younger with his flush of embarrassment and I finally pulled an AirPod out of my ear, halting the podcast.

Jack made a noise of realization, nodding his head as he laughed to himself. “I was just saying that you’d think they’d make the elevator faster for such a big building.”

That was a weird thing to say, I thought. Maybe not to people who like to make conversation with strangers, but I’m not one of them. Blinking a few times, I glimpsed at the number above the door.

5th floor

My gaze fell back to Jack. “That’s probably why there’s six elevators.” The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. I tucked my AirPod back in, waiting patiently for him to turn and leave. His eyes lingered on me for a moment, unashamed in their quizzical gaze before he stepped out and I followed. We walked a few feet apart from each other to the front door, his footsteps muffled by my AirPods but I could hear him clearly when I held the door open and he let out a cheerful, “Thanks!”

We broke away from each other after that, him heading towards an expensive looking BMW idling in on the valet and me down the sidewalk to the main street. Even as he climbed in the front seat of the car, I felt his eyes on me.

He’s cute, I thought to myself, in a weird way.

~~~~~~~~

A week later I met Nico Hischier.

Again in the elevator, I had just hit the door close button when a hand snuck into the crack of it and the two doors shot open. The same blue eyes and Yankees cap I’d seen the week before greeted me, Jack’s face splitting into a goofy smile when he saw me.

He stepped in, this time standing in the corner opposite of me. Behind him trailed another familiar face, and I assumed he was a teammate of Jack’s based on the similar gait they had, but I couldn’t quite place the name.

If Jack was cute, then this man was beautiful. He was only a few inches taller than Jack, but his large shoulders and presence seemed to take up the whole elevator. He was already watching me when I met his gaze, large brown eyes drinking me in like I was hot tea on a bitter cold rainy day. His full, pink lips were parted like he wanted to say something before they quickly fell shut. He did that for a couple seconds, lips moving like a fish out of water but he never spoke and neither did I.

He didn’t look nervous though or uncomfortable at all, unlike Jack. No, he looked content, at peace in the elevator that suddenly felt too small.

What does one say to someone who looks as good as him? I didn’t know and frankly I never thought I’d figure it out. Outside of sports, my mind has a hard time coming up with words especially words meant for men with pretty eyes.

Jack stole my attention when he started craning his neck around to look at me curiously. Turning to him with narrowed eyes, I wondered what in the world he was looking for. After a moment he stilled, eyes meeting mine and he smirked.

“Had to make sure you’d hear me this time,” he teased and I immediately pulled the white case out of my coat pocket, flicking the top open. I was never going to actually put the AirPods in but it was funny to watch the way his eyes widened in offense when I reached to pull a bud out.

“Wait! I want to talk!” He argued, reaching over to flick the top shut. I couldn’t hide my amusement that time, smiling in victory as he huffed.

“You’ve got until the doors open.” I said, trying my best to ignore the heavy gaze of his teammate on my face. Was he looking at the acne spot on my chin? Or at my mouth? Or maybe he’s noticing the little bump on the bridge of my nose? Not knowing made me want to throw something at him.

I pressed back into the wall instead, my lungs feeling tight. Unsure of what to do with myself, I focused back to Jack.

“You just move in right?”

I shrugged. “Like a month ago, why?”

“I moved in early this summer, never saw you before. And Nico has lived here forever and hadn’t seen you either.”

Where was he going with this? They were looking for me? “Congrats?”

Jack rolled his eyes. The elevator continued to climb but not nearly fast enough. Six elevators and I still get stuck in the one with him.

“Where’d you live before?”

I glanced at the number. 52nd floor.

“Buffalo,” I said, watching the number move up and up.

Jack made a noise of approval. “You know who we are.” He responded, no question about it. I didn’t conform or deny his words, just looked between the two of them. Nico was still eyeing me with that sparkly glint in his eyes.

“You’ve got a very familiar voice,” Jack continued, taking a step towards me like he was a child with a sweet tooth stepping up to an ice cream counter. “Have we met before?”

“No,” I said and the elevator showed the 65th floor.

“What’s your name?”

I waited for the elevator to ding and the doors to open. “Y/n,” I said quickly, moving in front of Nico and his large presence but refusing to look into those stupid eyes if his again. Before Jack could even begin to say another word I stepped out, heading left towards my apartment and hoping to god his was the other way.

~~~

I didn’t learn Nico’s name until two days later.

A baseball game was playing on the tv, two teams I didn't care about but the Mets were coming up next so I had it on in the background. It was good white noise to have while I worked, or at least attempted to. My laptop sat blank in front of me, all editing and writing projects falling flat. I was spending too much time caught up on Tony Granzia and it was keeping me from moving on. I knew that was the truth but that didn't keep from racking up listens for him.

I would have been annoyed by the banging on my door, loud and insistent, if I had actually been doing something worthwhile. But any attempts at trying to get back on the saddle were failing and I couldn't look at my screen anymore. So I got up and went to the door, answering it because I already knew who was going to be on the other side and I wasn't that annoyed by him anymore.

"Good you're home," Jack greeted, Nico standing behind him looking far more sheepish than he had in the elevator. He still looked at me with those glimmering eyes but he seemed to be chewing on the inside of his lip by the way his jaw moved and his dimple sunk into his cheek.

Jack pushed forward and I barely had time to move aside before he would've quite literally mowed me down. Nico stayed in his place for a moment, wide eyed as his friend moved deeper into my entryway and then he smiled, embarrassed and shy.

"Uh, Nico." He introduced, taking his hand out of his sweats pocket to hold out to me. I reached over and shook it, trying not to think about how his palms were warm and a bit sweaty, but he was strong. So strong that my pinky finger popped when he squeezed his finger and I pulled my hand back in embarrassment.

"Sorry," he mumbled, but I blew it off and just moved further into the side of the wall so he could come in. Nico seemed to shrink into himself, shoulders hunching forward and he stuck his hands back in his pockets like he was trying to seem smaller. It didn't work and I couldn't help but smile when I closed the door and turned to find him toeing off his Nikes by my discarded shoes.

"Hischier, right?" I asked when he was done and his head whipped around to look at me, eyes crinkling with the large smile that broke across his face.

"Yeah!" He confirmed, "It's Swiss."

There was no other way to describe the swooping feeling in my stomach other than swoon. I was swooning over Nico Hischier who so obviously was Swiss if the slight lisp in his accent and his sock clad feet were anything to go by. That and the beanie on his head had a tiny Swiss flag embroidered on the fold.

"You don't say," I giggled, leading him into the living room. We found Jack there, standing behind my couch and watching the tv. He waited for me to sit on the couch and Nico in the recliner next to it before hopping over the back, shoes and all falling on my couch.

Nico shot him a warning look, thick eyebrows lowering in a scolding look and Jack immediately dropped his feet to the rug.

"Orioles game? Really?" Jack muttered, nose scrunching in judgement and I resisted the urge to tell him that his team was looking worse off than Baltimore.

"I had it on while I was working." I said instead, reaching forward to close my laptop. Not before he caught sight of the blank document though and an eager grin took over his face.

Jack looked at Nico with wide eyes, tipping his head towards me as if trying to get Nico to speak. He just looked at me though, sinking into the cushions of the recliner and that peaceful glaze washed over his face.

I bit at my bottom lip, trying my best to stop from grinning like a fool at him. Jack, ever impatient, took over the conversation again. "Looks like you're just as unproductive us which is great because I have an idea!"

"That must be really hard for you." I replied, fluttering my eyelashes innocently when he frowned with offense.

"It is," he played along, "anyway, I googled you and found your old podcast, the one you did in Buffalo that was really good and then you disappeared from and now it's bad. Anyway, we have the whole summer and we think you should start another one."

It took a bit for his idea to sink in. Mostly because I couldn't believe he googled me and I wanted to know what else came up besides my work in Buffalo. But also because I never imagined Jack Hughes would be bursting into my apartment to tell me that I need my own show.

"What?"

Groaning loudly, Jack grabbed ahold of my shoulders and made me look him dead in the eye.

"Do not touch me." I mumbled, shaking off his hold.

He released me, holding his hands up in the air in defense but his gaze remained serious and locked on mine. "You need to start your own podcast, with us, specifically but like it would mainly be yours because we don't know what we're doing?"

I couldn't help it. "What?" I said again. Not that I didn't hear him or understand, I just didn't know what to say. I had worked on Buff City Boys for three years and only had two episodes I could really claim as mine. I had other editing and segment ideas but they technically fell under Tony's name. And when I had tried to go beyond, be more than a background voice and editor, I had been fired. How was I supposed to do this on my own let alone from scratch? Buff City Boys at least had a following when I got there, something to build off of. I have nothing...except two NHL players.

"You're good." Nico cut in, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward to be closer to us. "I listened to it with Jack a few times, your football episode was great."

Gnawing on the inside of my cheek, I met Nico's gaze. He had such expressive eyes, like every thought and feeling he's ever had has bled out of them. Certain and strong, he didn't waver when I helplessly stared at him for a moment.

"I stole your draft team," he added, dimple sinking into his cheek as he shyly smiled "and for the first time since I moved here I didn't come in last. I made it all the way to the SuperBowl."

I couldn't help but laugh picturing this European hockey player listening to my Fantasy Football breakdown episode and modeling his team after it. I bet Jack was furious, he looked like the type to reveal in his friends embarrassment.

"If you can fix his fantasy team, you can do anything."

The tv screen flashed as the Mets game began, and I sat there for a moment watching the starting lineup pop-up. Nico, pleased with his contributions settled back into the plush chair and propped his feet up on my coffee table. I could feel Jack's eyes on me though and I knew any second he'd be bugging for an answer.

"What do you get out of it?"

It wasn't technically an agreement but they could hear it in my voice because Nico's gaze shined with pride and Jack fist pumped just once before reclining back against the couch.

"Chicks dig guys with podcast." He smirked and I snorted in disbelief.

"Yeah ok, as if hockey player isn't already a bright red flag."

I saw him pout out of the corner of my eye, looking to Nico for backup who was watching us like we were his favorite sitcom. "We get to hang out with you," he said, "which would be fun. And I don't know how radio works either so that'd also be fun."

"Podcast isn't really radio." I replied, biting back a giggle.

"You know what I mean," He scoffed, "besides we need a smart friend, teach us to not be red flags or something."

I looked over at him, found him with big begging doe eyes and before I could second guess myself I said, "Okay, let's do it."

Jack and him high-fived, I returned to watching my favorite team on the TV and Jack tapped the top of my head in thanks. The three of us fell silent, comfortable in this new odd friendship and for the first time since I moved to Jersey I felt like I was home.

Nico broke the silence first. "Can you explain the pitches? Because like what?"

"Oh my god!" Jack huffed, pushing himself up from the couch and moving around the back to go dig around my kitchen most likely. I laughed, patting the cushion next to me and Nico was quick to settle in next to me.

"Don't listen to Jack, he's just mad that we have a better bullpen than the Yankees."

Nico's thigh pressed into the side of mine, warm even though the leggings I was wearing and I didn't stop myself from turning my knee towards him.

"Um hello?! We have Gerrit Cole!" Jack yelled from the kitchen. I rolled my eyes, snickering with Nico.

"Call me when the spider tack runs out and we'll talk about Cole."

Somewhere behind us Jack grumbled and muttered, saying god knows what and Nico just watched and listened.

Six elevators in the whole building and I got stuck with them. How lucky was I?

#nico hischier #new jersey devils #jack hughes #platonic jack hughes x reader #nico hischier x reader #only devils in the building au #nj devils #nico hischier fic #jack hughes fic

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come-chaos · 1 year ago

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I just finished Farscape S1 again and I think I'm gonna cry. First I was gonna say that they just don't make shows like this anymore, but then I remembered that they never made shows like this in the before either, except for that time when they made Farscape.

It's so weird in such a powerful way. The design choices alone will never leave me alone ever. I'm obsessed, I can't stop staring. Everything is batshit and John Crichton the human, whom we initially expect to chiefly relate to, responds to the batshitness by going increasingly batshit himself, which allows us to view him from the perspective of the alien characters. Suddenly, we see the human as just as alien as everyone else, and this happens again and again, and it's so well done. At the same time, he only becomes more endearing. Aren't we all lost in the chaos? When he chooses gentleness and kindness again and again, I'm overjoyed.

Aeryn is. Aeryn is everything. I love her so much. She's everything, I don't have the words.

And gods, D'Argo has so much soul. Nothing but your standard warrior stereotype on the surface, but underneath, he has such a complex and vulnerable heart. And he's so young. So, so young.

I love Zhaan as a Pa'u and my heart fucking aches for her. I so wish she could have remained happy. I get so angry with the show for taking that from her, but somehow it only seems to increase my obsession with it.

Chiana, who only knows how to engage with the world as an object of desire. It's the oldest story in the book, and yet no one ever seems to tell it from the girl's perspective. Farscape does. Farscape lets her be a real person.

And Farscape does all of this so subtly. You can miss all of this and still enjoy the show, but it's there, and it's incredible.

I haven't mentioned Pilot or Crais yet, but gods, I love Pilot so much, and I'm so weak for the kind of plot twist the end of S1 has in store for Crais. I also haven't mentioned Rygel. The truth is that he annoys me deeply, but I'm also acutely aware that he's essential to this story that I'm so obsessed with. He's one of the many, many mosquito bites of this show, and I just can't stop itching, and it's frustrating as hell, but it feels damn good.

Last but not least, Scorpius. Scorpy Scorps, my man, my sexy, soft-spoken, disgusting blorbo. Oh you tortured torturer in your shiny black fever dream of a fetish outfit. What a backstory you have. I'm gonna stop writing this post now and start watching S2.

#farscape #john crichton #aeryn sun #ka d'argo #chiana #scorpius #personal

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future-dregs · 3 months ago

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Maybe its cuz I'm going to the river tomorrow, but there should've been an episode, or at least a scene montage where Sam and Dean are driving down some backroad, during the in between of traveling, not working on a case, not worrying about a schedule or timeline, and they see a pulloff on a nice stretch of river.

And they just pull over, strip off, and make a day of it. Theres no people, its quiet, and they get sunburned and sunbleached and pleasantly tired. Somebody leaves for a minute to go to the nearest gas station and get beer and ice and whatever station burritos or sandwiches they have on offer.

They float, and skip stones, going between trying impress/beat the other and trying to hit the other one under the guise of a misthrow.

Eventually the stars come out and they lay back on the Impala, passing a dollar bag of candy between them. They listen to the frogs and the crickets, and the big, old fish jumping in the deep water.

In the morning their shoulders will hurt, the skin across their noses will be tight, and their mosquito bites won't stop itching for days. Dean will have a welt on his ass from one of Sam's stones that he won't let him forget about everytime he has to sit down. They'll both be a little hungover.

But today, tonight, they're pleasantly buzzy, and the world, their world, is good.

#Sam Winchester #Dean Winchester #Supernatural #Spn #📒

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tinposter · 5 months ago

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until dawn characters and how i think they stim

mike - leg bouncing and rubbing his stubble with his thumb. leg bouncing especially in cars and stuff where he cant really do anything but that.

jess - tapping her fingers against surfaces, like tapping beside her while sitting on a couch or a bed

em - i like to believe she used to have a bad habit of biting her nails when she was younger, whether due to anxiety or something else, but she managed to stop doing so by like her last year of middle school.

josh - when he was really little he’d twirl and mess with his hair a lot. it didn’t really do good for it, and it stopped when he was like 10.

chris - chewing on his lip and the inside of his cheek

ashley - skin picking. she used to have mosquito bites that’d like never go away cause she’d keep picking them open, and when she learned to crochet (another personal hc) her mom made her make fingerless gloves for herself. now she just itches at the gloves

matt - he rubs his thumbs against his other fingers a lot. and when people hold his hand(s), he tends to brush their knuckles.

#until dawn #until dawn mike #mike munroe #josh washington #ashley until dawn #chris until dawn #sam giddings #sam until dawn #josh until dawn #ashley brown #chris hartley #matt taylor #matt until dawn #emily davis #emily until dawn #jessica riley #jess until dawn #headcanon #stimming

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woso-fan13 · 1 year ago

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Sicktember 2023: 5

Preventative Measures (Not Taken)

You managed to drag yourself out of bed this morning, despite the overwhelming ache and tiredness that was deep in your body. It wasn’t entirely unexpected that you would be tired and sore, you had really been beat up in the game yesterday. Ignoring the dull ache in your head, you pull on sweatpants and a sweatshirt without turning the light on. You would change when you got to practice anyway.

Seeing as you had hit snooze on your alarm more times than you should have, you quickly pull your hair up and brush your teeth while shoving everything in your bag. Impressively, you make it out of your room pretty much on time, and you’re not even the last one on the bus.

You slump into the first empty seat you come across, leaning against the window and closing your eyes. Too soon, the bus has parked at the field and you can hear your teammates gathering everything and getting off.

You stand up with a sigh, grabbing your duffel and throwing it over your shoulder. You take just a second to take a breath, preparing yourself, before you join the chaos of everyone heading into the locker room. You quickly follow, starting to sing along to the song playing.

You throw your bag into your locker, pulling your practice clothes out. You strip off your sweatshirt and pull your practice shirt over your head. As you’re pulling it down, warm hands stop you.

You give Lindsey a questioning look, trying to tug your shirt out of her grip. She remains strong in her hold, fixing you with a look that makes you shut up and stand still. You watch as she pulls the hem of the shirt up, exposing your torso to the room.

She gasps slightly, her fears confirmed. The noise alerts Emily, causing her to lean over and let out a little whistle.

“I’ll admit, I’m impressed. I don’t think I’ve ever seen this before.”

Lindsey elbows Emily, causing her to start to protest, “this isn’t something to be impressed about, Emily, I- Honestly, I don’t even know what to do about this. I didn’t even know it was still a thing.”

“What are you guys talking about?” you ask confused and somewhat nervous, “why can’t I put my shirt on?”

“Buddy, are you feeling alright?” Lindsey asks, “do you feel sick at all? Or are you itchy?”

You take just a moment to take stock of your body before answering.

“I don’t feel perfect, but I was getting beat up during the game yesterday, so it’s to be expected.”

“But the itch?” Lindsey probes.

“A little, I think I got some mosquito bites yesterday.”

Emily jumps in, “those aren’t bites, Y/N, those are chicken pox.”

“Wha- No, I can’t have chicken pox. Who even gets chicken pox anymore?”

“You, apparently,” Emily chimes in.

Lindsey rolls her eyes at Emily’s nonchalance, “how did you even get chicken pox? I thought you couldn’t get them if you were vaccinated.”

Oh.

“Umm, about that. I kinda don’t…” the rest of your answer is a mumble, neither women being able to understand.

“Use your words, kids.”

“So, you guys know how I’m not 18 yet, right? And I can’t make my own medical decisions no matter how bad I want to. My mom’s kind of a nut and refuses to get me any vaccines because apparently she thinks they’ll kill me or something.”

Your voice is quiet by the end, unwilling to admit to your adult teammates that your mom could have prevented you from getting sick, but she read a blog and is convinced she’s saving you.

Lindsey grabs your chin, guiding you to look at her, “hey, this is not your fault, okay? It’s all okay. We’ve got you, you’ll be fine.”

“Besides,” Emily chimes in, “not like you can get us sick.”

#uswnt woso #uswnt players #uswnt x reader #womens soccer #woso imagines #uswnt imagine #woso x reader #uswnt imagines #reader insert #woso imagine #uswnt fanfic #uswntsoccer #woso soccer #woso fanfics #woso #uswnt reader

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