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kaguyass-houraisan · 2 days

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(They didn't have the Paldea one 😭)

Part 3 in the DC Pokémon AU, please see previous posts for more lore and I'm still open to more help and suggestions

Check the #dc pokemon au for it

These are just things I shit out and maybe someday I'll properly render everything but my design process for these is make them have a color that their typing has as in pink for fairy and blue for water etc.

Very special thank you to @illusionsignmisdirection for the help with this au and all the wonderful suggestions and ideas

Alec:

Alec is the ice type gym leader, he is the 1st gym leader overall. His gym is a library and he is the main librarian. He's planned to be apart of the villain team (known as Team Idol) as their leader so under the gym is the secret base which has those annoying ass ice puzzles we all are too familiar with.. and the gym is on top of an ice mountain because your first task is going to be haul ass up that mountain #absolutely and yes he is divorced and his wife took their son as she should #yup He's the only one with a party decided with a Delibird and Snorunt and his later party as the final team boss is to be decided.

For his design I went with icy librarian man that's literally my thought process and a tattered coat to show age and tired energy

Gabby and Ellie:

Gabby and Ellie are the grass type gym leaders, the second gym leaders overall. It started off as Gabby, but I imagine she had Ellie join her seeing as Ellie is a good battler herself. I like to think they're married or at the very least promised to each other, as see by the matching rings I gave them. They are so in love really... and I like to think Ellie made their outfits for each other (I couldn't pick which Gabby design I liked better so I put both) because I still think she's a fashion designer and probably her job is working at an office or freelance design, as seen w the pencil skirt and flats I gave her. I wanted her to look cute and professional to show that looks can be deceiving because she's also apart of Team Idol and maybe Gabby might be too, depending on what happens in dcas w her and the villains alliance. Gabby is supposed to give whimsical yes, like the most whimsy grass girl ever who waters her flowers and would shoot you if you litter type of shit. I think sometimes Gabby is solo then Ellie takes over other hours or sometimes they both battle together. Gabbys job is probably the city/town gardener, probably sells herbs and healing items that aren't found in Pokémarts

Hunter:

Hunter is the ghost type gym leader, he is the 3rd gym leader overall. I like to think his gym is some kind of abandoned warehouse or some other abandoned place turned ghost rave ! Ally is the DJ and does all the electrical work while Hunter battles challengers and puts on performances with the fellow ghosts roaming around. I based his design on the fact that he should be allowed to wear whatever he wants and the neon glowsticks and bracelets are based on his team colors !! Also the pale face paint and make up bc he's a performer duh and a crinoline with tattered fabric bc he's fancy like that. Didn't wanna add too many skulls bc that's Jake's brand he was the first one move over Hunter and his job really just is performer like he performs all the time for cash and relies on Ally dj money too 😭

Riya:

Riya is the flying type gym leader, she is the fifth gym leader overall. Yes her flying type is because of her assassination attempt on Aiden no one can change me I'm a woman. And also because her with a Bombirdier fits and also an Altaria and Vespiquen, but it's still to be decided. Her design was inspired by sky trainer bodysuits and her shoes height are to reflect her incredible balance and how she's always above everyone else both physically and mentally. I liked adding armor that looks like she's a warrior because let's be real here she is here to WIN. Also gold. She's regal. Love her sm... I think she puts on air show performances and is a celebrity, movie star all over again... like she's so fabulous how can you look away ? Her gym in my head is probably a runway of sorts or movie studio, probably shoots her battling to add into her movies really and yes she's apart of the villain team, she's second in command because why wouldn't she be

Miriam:

(Queen) Miriam is a retired gym leader, she once was the fairy type gym leader, formerly the eighth and last gym leader. Jake now is in her spot and she sometimes visits the gym. She normally is at home baking and providing for the neighboring Pokémon. I like to think her ace is Alcremie cause of obvious reasons and that Jake gifted her a Fidough to keep her company when he's busy at his job and the gym. She has a more bright and "good" aesthetic than Jake, so her gym was more different than his currently is. I like to think she could be challenged later on if this was a game, like post game ! I like to think she also exposed Team Idol and either was kidnapped or just. Roams free who knows. But she's strong and a wise mentor to Jake who helped him calm down a bit so he doesn't destroy everything with his powers when losing.

Other tidbits:

- This is the Tipiskaw Region and it's like side game regions where no new Pokémon are introduced but old ones are available like from previous generations

- The order is:

1st gym: Alec (ice type)

2nd gym: Gabby and Ellie (grass type)

3rd gym: Hunter (ghost type)

4th gym: Connor (steel type)

5th gym: Riya (flying type)

6th gym: James (electric type)

7th gym: Grett (dragon type)

8th gym: Jake (fairy type)

Elite four: Oliver (normal type)

Elite four: Emily (psychic type)

Elite four: Derek (dark type)

Elite four: Trevor (ground type)

Champion: Kristal

- The name of the Villain team is Team Idol, consisting of Leader Alec, second in command Riya, Grett, Yul, Ellie (maybe Gabby) and Fiore and their goal is for complete domination

- Yul is the first fight due to being brash and a show off, many people believe he's the leader of the team because of this and he is a fire type speicalist (also Yul has big beef w James as they are rival idols and both have Oricorio aces)

- Fiore is a NFE specialist (not fully evolved) specialist with Pokémon that just aren't fully evolved yet, but she is still strong in her own right and she trashed Tom's cop car definitely

- Grett is the dragon type specialist and a gym leader herself who later decides to help you the player (Lake and Drew) to stop the team bc she realizes it's wrong and gives the key pass to the secret base she is STRONG

- Also yes Lake is the female MC and despite not being an all star, Drew is the male MC. Lake is the talkative protagonist Drew is the silent protagonist

- Aiden is the friendly rival with legit one Pokémon, that being Pidove and it eventually evolves into a Tranquill and just stops there. Ellie is the hating ass rival, maybe, I think so yeah

- Tom is a police officer and almost a Looker figure as he is constantly going around the region and yes him and Jake had a thing and it's going poorly like in all stars

- Tom will be kidnapped by Team Idol yes, and other shit occurs which the gym leaders (that aren't in on it) have to help save the day

I like to think this is Jake's reaction to the shit storm Ellie throws at him bc she kidnapped Tom:

I'll make another post later on with all the complete details of all the characters and their rolls, I'm primarily focusing on the dcas cast

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buildoblivionthenwewilltalk · 3 months

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thinking about lord president fivey so have this

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professorcalculusstanaccount · 2 months

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Modern AU versions of Tintin and his friends! Notes about their designs under the Read More:

Tintin - A grey and yellow baseball tshirt references his grey sweatervest and yellow shirt look from the earlier comics. Cargo joggers replace his plus fours - plus fours were popular with golfers in the 20s and 30s as athletic wear, so I opted for cargo joggers for that preppy but sporty vibe. He also wears leather trainers and keeps his handy phone in an industrial case. Snowy wears a collar now!

Haddock - when not working on a ship as a merchant captain he opts for a hoodie and sweatpants. He might look sloppy but it's pretty practical for the wild adventures he's dragged into! He's Tintin's exhausted foster father in this AU.

Calculus - I gave him 2000s style rectangular frames to make him feel modern but still kind of dated, like how he wears fashion a few decades behind in the canon comics. I dressed him like my high school physics teachers - he has a necktie, a pocket protector, a zip through fleece and orthopedic shoes. I had frames like these for some time until I broke them at work lol

Chang - as soon as I read the Blue Lotus and saw Chang for the first time I immediately thought he was wearing crocs. I don't know why crocs are so popular. I don't think they're particularly comfortable. They feel sweaty and weird and don't stay on your feet when you run. I don't get crocs. But they're popular in Asia lol (I kept Chang's design super simple, he's an orphan with no money)

Abdullah - I had way too much fun with him! I know Supreme is kinda dated now (it's definitely a 2016 thing) but I still find it funny and the colour scheme fits. A lot of local Muslim teenagers in my area mix sportswear with traditional clothing so I did the same here, but made it obnoxiously bougie lol

Zorrino - I didn't change much for him as his original design is pretty timeless. I gave him socks and slides, a beanie and joggers. His button up shirt is replaced with a polo shirt but the difference isn't big.

#tintin #adventures of tintin #captain haddock #archibald haddock #professor calculus #cuthbert calculus #chang #abdullah #zorrino #fanart #modern au #photoset #snowy #milou #alcohol tw #smoking tw

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prettyfastcars · 4 months

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As sweet as blood-red jam | Mob!Lando

Summary: Lando could be many things given the nature of his job. Mean, commandeering, a control freak. But when he came home to you and the kids, he was the sweetest man you’d ever met. Your marriage to him was arranged of course, because that’s how things worked in the world you were both from. But love eventually grew between the two of you, and it did not stop growing.

Themes: dad!Lando, fluff, smut, arranged marriage, domestic!mob!Lando, mild mommy/daddy kink (nicknames only), praise kink, housewife!reader, breeding kink

“They’re sleeping.”

He announced cheerfully, shutting the door behind him as he walked into your library where you had been reading in silence for the past half an hour.

You were a stay-at-home mom so the twins, your son and daughter, were under your care all day. And so Lando insisted that you get the evening off the moment he got home. He read to them and tucked them in for the night each night. It was part of his routine and he loved it.

You placed your wine glass down and picked up the drink you made for him, handing it to him as he came over to sit down next to you on the large sofa.

His eyes lit up at the sight of the well-deserved drink. “Oh you’re perfect, baby.” He kissed your forehead before getting comfortable next to you, sighing as he leaned his head back, closing his eyes for a brief moment.

“They’ve been running around all day, they went to see the horses,” You said, thinking about how energetic your kids had been during the day, “I thought they would pass out after dinner but they wanted to wait for daddy.”

Your husband smiled, looking a little tired as he took a sip of his drink. You caressed his cheek with a gentle hand as he turned to give you a soft look with those gorgeous eyes of his.

He looked more relaxed and comfortable like this, wearing nothing but dark sweatpants. As opposed to the authoritative figure he is during the day in his expensive, dark suits. Him in casual clothing like this made you realise that he was in fact just a young man, barely 25, who shouldered a lot of weight alone.

Responsibilities, expectations, risks, reputation, legacy, and now his own family. You’d come a long way, the two of you. Only a couple years ago you were just strangers being introduced at a gala. And now you were young parents.

You still remember the night you met him for the first time. How gently he held your hand and danced with you. How your engagement was announced only a few months after and the wedding happened quicker than you thought.

You always thought that you would forever be strangers living under the same roof. Especially given his reputation of being a workaholic which made him such an influential figure in his line of work.

But Lando proved you wrong. He actually took the time to get to know you early on in your marriage, he cared, he listened. He was good to you. Then a year later, you had the twins and Lando had been perfect. Perfect partner, perfect dad.

“What are you thinking about, mama?” He asked softly, his hand leisurely caressing your exposed thigh. That golden chain on his neck shining in the dimmed lights of the library. No shirt so you shamelessly ogled his defined abs and muscles. He let you, with a smirk on his handsome face.

You put the book aside and leaned a little closer to him, cupping his rough chin in your hand. He’d been growing facial hair lately and you liked it. “You work too hard,” You said softly.

He smiled, leaning into the warmth of your hand as he said, “Just wanna give you and the kids everything you want and need. You deserve it.”

He had given you everything. Houses, cars, chauffeurs, chefs, private planes, private trainers, cards with no spending limits, vacations. You and the kids were well taken care of.

You sighed, sliding over and ending up perfectly on his lap. Lando finished his drink, placed the glass aside and grabbed you by the waist to pull you closer. “But we have everything we could ever want or need.” You suggested, “Take a day off. Or two. I’m taking the kids shopping tomorrow, come spend the day with us.”

Lando gave you a faint smile, “Can’t right now, baby. Some important shipments are about to come in. I can’t afford a day off until it gets here.”

You rolled your eyes, making him chuckle and pull you closer. “But I barely see you.” You murmured. “The last time we had a date night was like, weeks ago.”

Your face got really hot just thinking about it. Not just the date, but what happened after in the car on the way home…

Lando smirked, surely also thinking about the same thing, grabbing you by the hips and gently moving you on his lap, rubbing you against his growing erection. You hissed in pleasure as he did. The soft, silky night dress you were wearing bunched up around your upper thighs, allowing you to feel everything. The shape of him, the warmth.

“If you wanted a lovesick romeo who writes you love notes every morning then you shouldn’t have agreed to marry a man like me.” He taunted, teasing you and pinching your thigh.

You reached out and grabbed his gold chain, tugging on it playfully, knowing how much he liked it when you did. “Unfortunately I like my men a little more corrupted,” You whispered, “Bonus points if they work all the time and don’t have time for me.” You sassed.

Lando chuckled, leaning in to kiss along your jaw. “Aww, what is it?” He cooed, “You miss daddy? Hmm? Does mommy need some extra love from daddy tonight?”

You nodded.

“Come here, baby,” He pressed his mouth to yours as his hands caressed your inner thighs. He kissed you like he was starving, while your hands reached down in between your bodies and eagerly lowered his sweatpants to free his cock.

You whimpered into the kiss, against his lips as you wrapped your hand around him, stroking his hard cock, making him groan into the kiss before he pulled away and said, “Daddy missed you too.” He murmured, looking down to watch how your hand touched him just how he liked it. “Fuck,” He sighed, “That feels good, baby…”

His praise gave you enough confidence to stroke him harder, making him groan and moan. You loved the sounds he made. And you wanted to keep hearing those moans so you carefully lifted your lower body off his, pulled your underwear to the side and slowly lowered yourself down on his cock, earning louder moans out of his sinful mouth as you sank down on him.

You were wet enough for his cock to slide in, but your body still resisted just a little bit, enough for him to have to thrust up the tiniest bit to fully fill you up. You cried out as he did.

His soft lips parted just a little, and you couldn’t resist leaning in and sliding your tongue into his mouth. You whimpered against his lips, stroking the top of his mouth as you lifted up and sank back down on his cock, making him growl into the messy kiss.

“That’s it, baby… fuck yourself on daddy’s cock…” Lando’s hands rubbed up and down your thighs again as he gently thrust his hips up each time, setting a pace that had you both moaning and wanting more of each other.

Your fingers slid into his hair, scratching his scalp and down his neck as the tip of his cock reached sensitive places inside you.

Lando chuckled when he felt you clench around him. “We’re not using protection again, mama…” He spoke against your open mouth, breathless as you were, “You’re gonna give me another kid, huh?” He sounded cocky as he said it, like it filled him with pride. “Gonna let me fill you up again till you walk around all nice and swollen with my baby in you, hmm?”

You whined, feeling him stretch you out each time you moved up and down his cock. “Lando… please,” You gasped as his hand slipped between the two of you and found your clit, he rubbed it lazily.

“Answer me,” He demanded, “You’re gonna carry another one for me?” His voice sent chills down your back.

“Yes,” You whimpered, moving faster, impaling yourself down on his cock and whimpering shamelessly as you felt him filling you up completely each time, feeling him reach deeper into you with each thrust. Your lips brushed against his each time you moved up and down his cock, feeling him stretch you out as you stared into his ridiculously pretty eyes. You couldn’t help but speak the thoughts of your lust-drunk mind, “I want you to fill me up again,” You mumbled, feeling yourself getting high up there gradually.

Lando laughed, also lust-drunk, “I can’t wait…” He said, “Can’t wait to come home and find you dripping wet for me.” His voice gave away that he was thinking back to how needy you were for him all throughout your previous pregnancy.

You whimpered, thinking about it as well. Some evenings he’d come home and you dragged him to the bedroom immediately. Some days you even called him and asked him if he could come home for an hour or two. Lando happily agreed each time of course.

“Remember how sensitive you’d get? How needy?” He teased, holding you close. “How you almost cried each time I made you come?” He smirked, male pride all over his face. “Some of the best months of my life those were.”

You whined, “Please…” You stared into his pretty eyes.

“Come for me.” He growled in that cold, menacing, erotic voice. “Come for daddy…”

And you did. Whimpering, squirming and whining. You didn’t slow down as you felt your orgasm wash over you, and Lando kept thrusting his hips up into you as your eyes rolled back and you moaned out loud as you came hard, feeling your walls squeezing and clenching around him.

Lando came right after you, moaning and spilling inside of you, filling you up as you trembled and squirmed on his lap. You leaned forward, pushing your face into his neck to catch your breath while he held you against him, kissing the side of your face softly.

“You okay, baby?” He asked after a few minutes of you two just cuddling there on the sofa.

You nodded, “Mhmm, don’t wanna get up.” You murmured, sighing in bliss as you snuggled into his warm chest.

He chuckled, “Okay.” He kissed the stop of your head. “I love you,” He whispered.

#lando norris #lando norris smut #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #mob!lando #f1

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the-kr8tor · 16 days

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Horror/slasher movie actor hobie x actor reader whose the protagonist of the story 💳💳💳💥💥💥

Silly actors that meet for the first time and falls in love on a silly horror movie set

ACTOR AU!!! LET'S GOOOO!!!! (Thank you for requesting ly bestie ❤️❤️❤️)

Pairing: Actor! Hobie Brown x Actress! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, fem! Reader, no specific physical description of the reader, R is mentioned wearing make-up, Actor AU, Fame AU, CW food mentions, Pretend blood, pretend violence, Pretend death, FLUFF.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

You run on the soft soil, sweat dripping off your brows. Your trainers sink under the earth with every step. The wet squelch behind you tells you to run faster, but your curiosity gets the best of you. With a quick look behind your shoulder, you instantly regret it as the tall masked man has gotten closer to you with his long strides.

He walks the same path you've taken like he's on a stroll in the park. His leather punk jacket and clown mask is drenched in warm blood— the blood of your fellow camp counselors, the blood of your dearly departed friends. Even with his casual movements, his entire demeanor sends a shiver down your spine. Heavy footfalls and a bloodied knife makes you run faster than your own feet could take you.

With the moonlight as your guide, the fog blanketing the dense woods, lungs burning, you trip on nothing.

“Fuck!” You shield your chin with your hand to avoid the hard impact. Hands braced, eyes closed, your face meets the moist forest floor. Dirt in your fingernails, grass in your hair, a warm hand flips you around by your shoulder and you scream loudly. The sound echoes around the dark woods, eyes wide, the killer raises his sharp knife to plunge it in your heart.

Your eyes meet the killer's eyes behind the mesh of the mask, gorgeous mismatched eyes greets your own. To your surprise, he winks and your terrified scream falters in your throat. Eyebrows knitted, hands on the villain's broad shoulders, he stabs you in between your ribcage.

“No!” Cold blood splatters out as you try to wrench away the mask from your murderer's face. With your last breath, tears in your fear filled eyes, his name falls out of your lips without a second thought. “Hobie?”

Hobie tilts his head with a playful smile, sticky blood smeared on his chiseled cheek, blue and hazel eyes staring at you fondly.

“Cut!” The director yells, and you audibly groan at your mistake. A bell rings, spotlights suddenly click open, the lights almost make you blind. The crew murmurs around as the director puts his hands on his hips. “The character’s name, darling! Not his real name,” he kneads at his temples. “Everyone take ten!” With one last frustrated groan, he walks away, entering his tent with a stomp and grumbling about changing the villain's name.

“I fucked up, didn't I?” You ask, still under your favourite co-star. “I'm sorry.” Frowning, you ready yourself for a berating.

Instead of a glare and a passive aggressive comment, Hobie wipes your cheek free of muck with his warm thumb. Eyes staring softly, his touch lingers.

“There, I just did the makeup department a favour. Not like you need it anyway.” He flashes his signature smirk, the same smirk that has people falling over themselves just to get a glimpse.

Your heart pounds loudly as he gets back on his feet, leather squeaking, he reaches down to help you up. Taking his hand, he lifts you up effortlessly, not even breaking a sweat or straining his muscles.

“Thank you.” You say fondly. The numerous spotlights above make your heart-shaped eyes sparkle.

“No problem. And you didn't fuck up, it happens to the best of us, yeah?” He pats your shoulder, and you think all the friendly late night talks in your trailer are just that, friendly. “You were doin' good, the best fuckin' scream ever. Thought my eardrums were about to burst.”

“Thank you.”

“Stop sayin’ thanks, I was just statin’ a fact, love.”

You hide your flustered face with a nod, cheeks hot. You make your way towards the wardrobe tent to get changed for the next scene where your character resurrects to help the remaining survivors. You've seen better scripts but money is money.

“Thank—” you correct yourself, chuckling as he follows you. Walking side by side, his hand brushes over your own. Hobie smiles, eyes trained where you're walking in case you unintentionally decide to method act and fall flat on your face. “You did great too, you were really scary.”

He snorts, the sound that fills you with endearment. “With this face?” Pointing at his chin, you laugh.

“I guess that's why they made you wear that god awful mask, no one would run away from you.” You push him playfully with your shoulder. “They'd run towards you instead.”

Hobie ignores all the crew scrambling around on set and the numerous cameras pointed at your back. He imagines that you're strolling at a park after a nice dinner where he bravely held your hand underneath the table.

Maybe it shouldn't remain in his mind, maybe he should just ask you, and maybe you'll say yes.

It's long overdue anyway, after two horror movies together and one comedy special, he thinks it's time to try to star in a romcom. Preferably with you.

Stopping in front of the tent, you look at him. “This is me, unless you need to change too—?” Hobie gingerly reaches for your cool hand, index finger lacing around your pinky carefully like he's able to snap it in half. “Y-yes?” You can hear your pulse quickening, you fear that your hand is sweaty and that his finger would slip away from the moist.

“Have dinner with me? A proper one where we don't eat take out in your trailer.” Hobie fakes a cough that's Oscar worthy to hide his nerves. “If you're not busy.” If you want to, he wanted to add, but he wants to remain suave in front of you. He'll save all his hidden awkwardness during the date. If you graciously accept anyway.

Your smile is brighter than the spotlights above. “I have to wear my best disguise then. Y’know, so we don't end up in a gossip mag in the morning.” Pinky lacing around his finger, you stand closer to him, toe to toe, smiles mirroring each other.

“Let me guess, it's a baseball cap with sunglasses innit?”

You giggle, “yep.”

“Leave it at home, you're not gonna need it.” His heart skips a beat at the realization of your closeness. Hobie now knows why you're the lead in most projects you're in.

Eyebrows knitted together, you tilt your head, eyelashes fluttering in the breeze. “Why?”

“The paps don't know where I live.”

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stllmnstr · 4 months

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breathing room — a lee heeseung drabble

2.5k / enemies to lovers

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Lee Heeseung is having a hard time breathing.

Partly because he’s pretty sure he just got the wind knocked out of him. A little bit because of the year-old rib injury he had neither the time nor patience to let heal properly.

And mostly because there’s a blade being held to his throat.

Yours, to be exact.

It’s a nice one, all things considered. Despite its lethality, it’s small, delicate almost. From this angle, he can just make out the detailing on the hilt. A series of vines wrap around each other intricately, forming kaleidoscopic patterns that extend all the way from the blade to where your fingers are wrapped around the hilt, knuckles white from the way your hand is straining.

Jesus, he thinks. If it takes that much concentrated effort for you to not let the knife press any harder against his skin, draw any blood, then maybe he should start taking the threats you throw his way like extra change a little more seriously.

Lazily, he lets his eyes trace a line from your fingers to your face. Skipping over the rather boring details of the plain black training shirt you wear, he directs his attention to the way your brow furrows in concentration instead.

Under usual circumstances, a knife to the throat would encourage all of his senses to narrow in on the sensation of metal against his pulse point. Would spur his brain to work a bit faster through all the biological fight or flight mechanisms in a last ditch attempt at survival.

But these are not usual circumstances. In fact, ever since the two of you were split into separate training cohorts a handful of months ago, this has become a rarity. And the only thing Heeseung wants to do is enjoy it a little more.

Without his self-preservation instincts kicking in, his brain has plenty of room for other things. The forgiving surface of a training mat beneath him, slightly soft where he lets his body relax into it. The unusually warm air of the training room, courtesy of a busted air conditioner that no one has gotten around to fixing just yet.

The way your hair falls around your face as you lean over him, chest still heaving from your recent bout of exertion. Your eyes are pure fire, embers and ashes and every stage in between as you sit atop his ribcage, knees on either side of his torso where you pin him to the mat.

But even as the lead trainer adds another tally underneath your name for another sparring match won, your gaze doesn’t soften. Doesn’t brighten in the afterglow of victory. After all, victory only tastes sweet when it’s earned. Judging by the way your lips twist above him, Heeseung thinks the victory he just handed you on a silver platter must be horribly bitter.

Slowly, he raises his hands in mock surrender. There’s a half smile that looks a little too much like a smirk tugging at his lips when he says, “I concede.”

“No fucking shit.” You flick a strand of hair out of your face. Your knife presses a little tighter against his throat. “Did you even try?”

Heeseung maintains eye contact. “I think I’m doing us a both a favor by not answering that one.”

Narrowing your eyes, annoyance makes itself the most prominent of your visible emotions. “Interesting choice of words from someone with a knife to his throat.”

Heeseung all but rolls his eyes. “What are you gonna do? Kill me in front of everyone?” The way he wraps sarcasm up in every syllable is almost as infuriating as the way he just let you win without putting up any semblance of a fight. “You’ve got a mean streak, princess, but that’s a bit much, even for you.”

The pressure on your blade increases, and Heeseung fights a wince as he feels it break the barrier between his skin and blood. It’s a miniscule cut, surface level at most, but he hears the threat all the same. “It’s like you want to die,” you marvel.

Heeseung’s eyes betray nothing, other than the fact that they can’t quite seem to stray from your own. Does he? No matter how deep inside himself he searches, the answer is always a resounding no. Despite the effort he put into this particular spar, or rather lack thereof, his survival instincts are still kicking. His pursuit of life is still alive and well.

So no, he doesn’t want to die. Quite the opposite in fact. But if he were to explain in plain terms that he never feels quite as alive as he does in the moments when you’ve got a knife on his throat and hatred in your eyes, he has the distinct feeling you might well and truly make good on your frequent promise to send him to an early grave.

And it’s not like he means to do it, not really. Heeseung might be a glutton for punishment these days, but there was a time when he tried to get your attention in all the regular ways. As he quickly found out, sweet words did nothing but make you roll your eyes and his skills on a sparring mat were only as impressive as they could be used to hone your own.

He was a tool, in your eyes. A means to an end as you did your best to work your way up the ranks.

You never looked at him, the person behind all the hand-to-hand combat training and advanced levels of weapon artistry. At least not until he started annoying the ever-living shit out of you.

Back then, it had been easy. As new recruits, you were in the same training cohort, which meant you had the same daily schedules. As long as Heeseung had the chance to beat you to the last piece of toast in the dining hall at breakfast or tie the laces of your training boots together the night before an early morning, he was guaranteed at least one of your signature glares and a few choice words that would make his grandmother blush.

Granted, he knows that one-sided hatred is not a very stable foundation to build anything solid on, but he thinks of it in the same way he thinks of sparring.

He doesn’t need a knockout. He just needs an in.

A little bit of breathing room. Something that will have his partner lowering their guard, weakening their defenses just enough for him to strike. Once. Twice. Again. Over and over until the match is won and victory rests on his square shoulders.

Heeseung’s in this for the long haul, and he’s come to find that he doesn’t really care how many bruises he picks up along the way.

Across the room, the lead trainer heaves a long sigh.

“Alright, ___, that’s enough. You’ve earned your tally.” The most of anyone in today’s group. But you’re still glaring at him, and he knows it isn’t enough, not for you. “Heeseung, get it together. I expect better from you next time.”

You scoff. “Don’t hold your breath.”

Expectations are only met when people are held to them, and you doubt Lee Heeseung has even become acquainted with the concept of a consequence.

Releasing one final, sharp exhale, you pull your knife away from his throat, tucking it back into the sheath on your upper thigh in one fluid motion. Swinging your leg over his torso, you remove your body from his own, give your anger some space to breathe. Without looking back, you let your strides eat up the distance between you and the exit.

Someone – you think it must be Jay, or maybe Jungwon, tries to catch your attention on the way out, asking about a maneuver you pulled in the middle of the match. A tricky bit of knife work you’ve been perfecting over the last few weeks. Something that looked stupid as Heeseung did nothing but stand there, as if your blade was nothing but decorative. Made you look stupid as he stood and watched with nothing but a mildly amused expression on his face.

You hate him for it. Want to show him just how pretty your knife can be stained with the deep crimson he must bleed as surely as anyone else.

Lips pulled in a taut line, you unsheath the blade at your thigh once again, this time sending it spinning with deadly accuracy towards the line of trees that skirt the outside of the training facility.

You don’t miss. You never do.

It still feels like defeat.

…..

Heeseung notices when you’re not at dinner later that evening. Despite the fact that you no longer train together, the inter-cohort spars have shifted this week's schedule. You should be here, sitting next to Jay and Jungwon, probably, pointedly avoiding his gaze.

But you’re not. And he can only think of one other place to find you.

The training hall is dark when he arrives, but Heeseung is no fool. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust, but he sees you soon enough. Silhouette dark against the empty expanse, he has half a mind to intervene before you shred yet another punching bag to irreparable pieces. Instead, he just watches for a moment longer. He doesn’t know what to do with the feelings that start to simmer, that always linger. Doesn’t know if it’s admiration or longing or something far worse. But he wants to. Wants to examine them until he knows them as intimately as the back of his own hand, until he can recite them by name and express them in ways that don’t make you want to press a knife against his neck.

And he wants to keep watching, keep looking, keep noticing.

Even from a distance, even in the dark, he can read the frustration in the set of your shoulders, sense the exhaustion in the way your legs move just behind the rest of your body.

You need a break.

He needs an in.

Across the room from you, Heeseung clears his throat.

Startled, you nearly fall on your ass mid-kick before you turn to the source. It’s dark, but you know it’s him. Who else would it be?

Chest rising and falling rapidly with exertion, you finally catch your breath well enough to tell him, “If you’re not here for a rematch, then you have exactly ten seconds to get out of this building.”

A beat passes.

Another.

Heeseung exhales. “And if I am?”

Bathed in the dying glow of moonlight, you go still. “Then you better put in your best fucking effort.”

Heeseung is across the room before you can release another breath. It’s ridiculous how quickly he disarms you. And you’re caught off guard, yes, but it doesn’t matter, not really. Your knife in his hands, he throws it to the corner of the room. And then it’s just the two of you.

Heeseung spares neither time nor effort knocking your legs out from under you, sending you careening towards the mat. Screwing your eyes shut, you brace for the impact of a training mat that never comes, the back of your head cradled in a hand that serves as a barrier between you and the ground below.

It’s a complete reversal of your earlier roles as he lets his legs fall to either side of you, face inches from your own. There’s no knife on your neck, and he was gracious enough to break your fall, but suddenly find your breath a difficult thing to catch regardless.

Above you, his eyes are dark. Your noses nearly touch. “This is what you wanted?” he breathes, and you feel his words as much as you hear them. They dance across your cheekbone, your lips. Have your bones feeling molten, all your hard edges malleable. “You want me to fight you like I mean it? To really fucking spar with you?”

You’ve rehearsed your answer too long to deviate, even as your mind screams with sudden uncertainties. “Yes.”

Heeseung doesn’t spare it a second thought. “Too bad.”

“Why? You have no problem f–”

“I was there, you know.” Unbidden, the hand that doesn’t hold your head falls to the bottom edge of your black training shirt. Heeseung pauses there for a moment, lets his fingers trace the seam. Something in the air shifts, tightens, waits. Despite the way he has you caged, your hands are unbound. You could stop this, if you wanted to. Stop him.

You don’t.

Slowly, his hand begins to track an upward journey, taking your hem with it. The air of the room is warm, choked with summer heat and the odd sensations that simmer just beneath your skin, but you suppress a shiver anyway as a sliver of skin is revealed.

You know what he’s after, where his eyes fall to. It’s his fingers that hesitate. Dangle with uncertainty a hair's breadth from the scar that sits just above your hip bone.

Heeseung inhales, eyes returning to your own for a moment. They’re searching for permission you won’t give and boundaries you won’t set. If he wants to walk this tightrope, he’ll have to navigate on his own.

It’s a challenge he rises to. On his breath out, Heeseung lets his fingers find a home on the bare skin of your stomach, trace the jagged line that’s a shade paler than the surrounding area.

It’s a scar you hardly think of, one you can’t believe he remembers. Gifted to you in your early days of training, when a fellow recruit thought the best way to better his ranking was to discard the strict sparring rules set by your superiors and draw blood as a last ditch attempt at victory.

You’d still won, even with a fresh stab wound on your lower abdomen. And he’d been shown the door, like all recruits that break protocol.

“So what?” Your voice doesn’t come out nearly as biting as you intend it to. You curse the waver in your words. “I get one scar and suddenly I’m delicate?”

Heeseung glances up, something sincere in his eyes when he matches your gaze. His hand is still on your skin. “We’re all delicate. And we all have the scars to prove it. I’ve just developed a particular… aversion to seeing evidence of it when it comes to you.”

You’re quick to school your features into neutrality. At least on the outside, you won’t give him the satisfaction of catching you off guard. “That sounds like a you problem.”

“Apparently not,” Heeseung counters. “Since I’m not the one begging for a fight.” He holds your gaze when he adds, “And I have to say, princess, if you wanted me to put you on your back, there are much easier ways to ask.”

It’s as if you’ve been submerged in hot water, as if you’ve been burned, when you push him off of you with a speed that’s almost comical. And from the way heat rises in your cheeks, you just might have been.

Your voice is dangerously low when you tell him, “You have three seconds.”

“Until what?” Heeseung knows better than to be hopeful.

“Until I find my knife and put it to good use.”

Heeseung doesn’t need to be told twice.

#heeseung fanfic #heeseung drabble #heeseung x reader #heeseung x you #heeseung fic #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen x you

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pigdemonart · 4 months

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So Scarlet and Violet's Indigo disk dlc has introduced Lacey (Beautiful perfect angel) and it's implied she is Clay's daughter

What do you there relationship is like? Do you think Clay whould be a good dad?

hahaha i have been tweeting about this actually. First link is a joke, but you should still click it lol

I always thought of Clay as an unofficial father of the region, so YEAH!! The news made perfect sense to me! I do believe its been confirmed also and it’s not just implied.

I ramble about clay for paragraphs:

I like to imagine Lacey and Clay have a good relationship. We can see from her design, she is wearing hair clips that match the gems Lian and Clay wear, which is super cute! Confirmed family tradition, like I theorized hehe!

Clay seems like the kind of dad that is blunt and straight to the point, but would spoil and support wholeheartedly! He’s a “down to earth” (haha) pragmatic kind of guy, telling everyone the hard truths when they need to hear it and not mincing words. Like you’re a kid when you meet him and he’s like whats up dummy, you fucked up. I imagine Lacey is fully used to this attitude and doesn’t get phased by it much. She probably tells people with a wave of a hand that her dad is actually quite nice, you just gotta cut through the hard exterior first.

I like to imagine Lacey got her drilbur (excadrill) from her dad (maybe a starter) but not just as a gift — she had to prove that she was ready to be a trainer! And she did, because she’s Clay’s daughter and Lian’s descendant so nice as she looks she must be headstrong as shit.

Like I can’t see Clay being a pushover dad, even if we imagine he calls Lacey petnames like “princess.” Personally, I always saw Clay as a little chivalrous with girls and femmes, in that Southern cowboy kind of way. I’m sure that comes through whenever he is decidedly softer with his own daughter.

Also Lacey lives in Nimbasa and uses fairy type, so she is clearly a kid that has her own ambitions and dreams. Which is why I imagine (if she has good relationship with her dad) that Clay must fully support it. Rocks and mining have been in the family since Lian’s time, so it’s possible she isn’t really interested in inheriting Clay’s business and has different goal for herself. Maybe there was some tension with this and maybe they butted heads, but I’m sure it could be worked out.

Would be cool to imagine her as the future Fairy type gym leader of Unova. That being said, I don’t think she’s against or ashamed of it. Her hair clips prove she’s proud of her origins after all!!

Also Clay sent his little girl to this new fancy shmancy school UNDER THE OCEAN, and sure its a little flashy, but he cares about her being educated and kicking other kids’ ass. Before she left he was probably like “give ‘em hell!” and she furrowed her bushy eyebrows like >:)))

Now ahem…obviously I still ship Clay x Drayden, this hasn’t really changed anything for me LOL in fact it makes it very interesting, because Drayden also has a confirmed grandson. Old man yaoi is still old man yaoi even if they’re bisexual, but also surrogates are a thing, not to mention divorce arc maybe??? All great, big fan. 👍

Tldr: YEa HE’S A COOL DAD.

#clay #pokemon #not proofreading anything too tired #lacey #pokemon spoilers #indigo disk spoilers #ask the pig #wolf-eared-fangirl

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bellarkeselection · 6 months

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Hey love your page I was wondering if I could have a John request where your the new horse trainer and slowly reader and John fall for each other maybe Beth doesn’t trust her but Kacey likes her ?

Opinions of our Horse Trainer

Twirling the rope in my right hand I held onto the end of the rope with my left. Clicking my tongue I watched the horse quickly running around me in circles. I had been working for the Dutton family for a quite a few months now. Since John Dutton’s youngest son had taken on the position of Livestock Commissioner so they needed someone else to break in the new horses that would come in and I was hired. “Come on, boy. You wanna come at me then let’s go.” I taunted the horse causing the horse to charge at me so I ran climbing up the fence and the horse hit the wooden fence.

“Are you crying to make him want to kick your ass?” Turning my head around I heard a woman’s voice and recognized a girl with her blonde hair. She stood on the outside of the fence wearing a white and grey dress and some heels. “Cause I don’t think you want to piss a horse off sweetheart.”

My hair fell in front of my eyes, and my tan cowgirl hat was close to falling off my head when I was eyeing John's daughter. "You've got to knock the defiance out of him somehow."

"If you say so. I've just decided not to go anywhere near those things...not anymore at least." Beth shook her head at me, pulling out a cigarette.

Swinging my legs over the wooden fence, I climbed back down into the wooden fence, clicking my tongue to get the horses attention again. "Berh, I hate to say this but can you just say what you want to say because I should get back to work here."

"I'm just trying to see what your intentions are with my father." She said quickly before leaving and heading towards the white barn. I saw that John was coming from the barn, but I couldn’t hear their conversation. She smiled at her father. "Hi, Daddy."

John paused in his tracks. "Morning honey, what were you talking with Y/n about?"

"Just trying to see what you see in her exactly." She shrugged her shoulders.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Uh! Beth, don't do this. I don't want to have this conversation with you."

"I loved my mother and it just seems odd for you to be with anyone but her. Even though she's dead." His daughter explained hearing footsteps coming towards the entrance of the barn.

John ran his hands down his face, not thinking this was how his morning was going to start. He removed his cowboy hat, running his fingers through his grey hair, finally seeing that it was Kayce coming towards them. "What are you two talking about this morning?" Kayce asked, tugging his horse to a stop in the doorway.

"How dad is trying to sleep with someone else who will never be as wonderful as our mother." Beth rolled her eyes, kicking some dirt with the edge of her heel.

John cursed under his breath. "Shit, Bethany!"

"Beth, I get that you'll still love our mother. But dad should be able to date other women." The youngest son said back.

The Dutton girl scoffed. "Are you serious, little brother!"

"Yeah, I am, sister. Our father should be able to be happy just like he wants us all to be. He shouldn't just be trying to maintain this ranch without having some sort of love life away from all the work." Kayce declared at his sister, wanting her to see his side of things.

She crossed her arms over her chest, letting silence fill the wooden barn for a few seconds. "So what are we just supposed to be okay with this?"

"Yeah, unless it all goes to hell in the end. But let him try and be happy with someone until the day he gets to be with our mother again." Kayce nodded, tipping his hat at the pair walking forward to put his horse in the stall.

John patted his son on the back when he walked past. "Thank you, son." He then walked in the direction of the wooden fence training area to watch Y/n as she had the horse right where she wanted it to be.

Holding one hand on the top of my head so it wouldn't fall off, the horse slowly bowed its head to me. Raising my free hand, I slumped my shoulders, not noticing John just yet. "There you go, boy. You’re a good horse. You'll do just fine now."

"Y/n, he rather likes you. And he certainly ain't the only one." John tells me with a kind smile, leaning his arms against the wooden fence.

Brushing my fingers through the horse's mane he made a noise where I focused my attention back to John. Leaving the horse I leaned my body against the fence sending him a wink. "Are you asking me to dinner, Dutton. I don't quite think you're daughter would like that very much."

John groaned slightly when he began climbing over the fence and dropped down on the other side in front of me. "To be honest with ya, darling. I don't really care what they think. So if you'll go on a date with me then let's just do it and to hell what they think."

Stepping forward I dropped the rope in my hands cupping his face in my hands and kissed him out of nowhere. "To hell with what they say it is then, John." I mumbled before he drew Mr back in for another kiss not bothered by the knowledge that Beth and Kayce were watching.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

Tag list @whateverthecostner @the-morning-star-falls @rosie-posie08 @hcwthewestwaswcn @kcloveswrestling @kaymudd @nettysworld-madisonclark @elenavampire21

#john dutton one shot #john dutton imagine #john dutton x reader #john dutton #kevin costner #yellowstone x reader #yellowstone series #yellowstone imagine #yellowstone masterlist #yellowstone #beth dutton #kayce dutton #horse trainer #dutton ranch #ask box is open for anything #comments really appreciated

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chattahoochiecoochie · 1 year

Text

Patients, Plural

Summary: A bengals athletic trainer gets caught up with her favorite and his friend.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: mild dub con / inappropriate workplace behavior

A/N: Apparently I don’t have rules or boundaries because this is X Reader which is against all of the above. So fuck it, I guess let me know if you want more, of whatever this is specifically.

“Pigtails today, huh?” Sam is laying back, staring at you like he always does, with that funny look in his eye like he might know something he shouldn’t.

“Yup.” You pop the ‘P’, trying to seem nonchalant as you work your way up from his knee. It’s always a knee, one or the other.

He comes in, limping a little, wincing when you finally get up to his thigh. Always hiding the same slight smirk when you tell him to take his leg out of his pants—just the one—so you can tape him up. He always goes for both legs, pretending to be flustered when you tell him you only need the problem leg undressed.

So that's where you are now, face to face with his problem leg, trying not to blush as he flexes beneath your touch. It's worse today, with two sets of eyes on you. Joe Burrow is in the chair behind you, waiting with more patience than Sam has probably ever held a day in his whole life. But he’s looking at you, watching—albeit with a different look in his eye than Sam.

“It’s cute.”

You say nothing, biting your tongue as you wrap the black tape around his kneecap, one hand tracing over it as you press it to his skin.

“You’re cute.” He twists slightly beneath you, looking over at Joe. “She’s cute, isn’t she?”

Joe says nothing, and though your back is to him, you’re sure he’s probably blushing like you are, shy under Sam’s dangerous tone.

“Joey thinks you’re cute too.”

You sigh, looking at the warped tape, your work messed up by his movement. Committed to the bit, Sam sees the frustration on your face and puts a hand over yours, swinging his legs off the table as he hoists himself up to sit in front of you.

“You know, it actually feels pretty good. Thanks for taking a look at it.” He shakes his leg for good measure, knee knocking against your thigh. Somehow, he’s still holding your hand, and when you pull away, his grip tightens. Smiling at you, he rips the tape off his knee with his free hand.

“Your turn Joey.” Sliding off the table, he stands in front of you for a moment before letting you go, moving to stand beside you. “I think I’ll watch.”

“Your quad again?” You look at Joe, trying to keep your tone professional. He nods, standing up from the chair. God he’s tall. They both are. Sam’s taller, bigger too, but they’re both so damn tall. For a moment, you falter, getting lost as you stand between the two of them.

“‘Kay, get that right leg out for me and hop up here.” He’s wearing shorts, always more thoughtful than Sam is.

With broad hands, he tucks the hemline into his briefs and hops onto the table with his thigh exposed.

All too aware of Sam behind you, you turn your fractured attention to Joe, prodding him with delicate hands to identify the source of his discomfort. Where Sam is always a knee, Joe is always a thigh. For a moment, you find the pattern between the two of them. It slips from your grasp as Sam inches closer, until his chest grazes your shoulder.

Shuddering at the touch, you blink slowly, trying to look harder at the man lying in front of you. “Here? How about here?”

With a soft groan he tenses beneath your touch. The area is tight to the touch—at least he’s not a faker.

Pressing your fingers deeper, you feel around the area for more tightness. Behind you, Sam shifts, bracing against the table.

“I thought I was special.” From the corner of your eye you can see him pouting slightly. “You touch everyone like this?”

“I’m a trainer.”

“Did you think you were special, Joey?”

“I am.”

“Oh Mister Quarterback thinks he’s special.”

“I am.” Taking the bait, Joe looks up at you with a glint in his eye. “Aren’t I?”

It’s unconscious, the way you play into his hand. He’s trickier than Sam, with those baby blue eyes and long lashes. It seems so innocent.

“Very.” You turn away from them both, reaching for your tape, regret only flashing through your mind when you turn back to find Joe smirking at his friend.

“She thinks I’m very special.” He swats Sam across the stomach. “I’m probably her favorite patient.”

“I—” Yes, yes definitely.

“He’s your favorite? Joey’s your favorite patient?”

“I don’t…” You falter, suddenly very aware of the way Sam is standing against you.

“You don’t have favorites?”

“Careful, Sam gets jealous easy.” Joe laughs, his nose wrinkling as the sound rings out.

“I’m not jealous.” A hand is in your hair suddenly. From the corner of your eye you can see Sam winding his fingers through the end of one of your pigtails. “Not yet.”

Joe has a serious look on his face suddenly, and he’s tense beneath you. Leaning on your hands for balance you pry away from Sam’s looming figure. How long have you been holding his leg like this?

“Does Joey get special treatment? Since he’s your favorite?” It’s so hot in here, and Joe’s on fire beneath you. You’re still holding him? “Do you blush when you touch him? You get all rosy when you work on me, I bet you blush for Joe don’t you?”

“I…”

It’s hazy, the scene before you. Sam’s voice is deep and soft, softer than the hip of his that's digging into your back. When did Joe sit up? Your hands are on his thighs still, fingers spread across the broad space.

“You kiss him better? Your favorite patient?” Sam's hand is on your back, crawling towards your waist until he’s holding you steady against the table, between Joe’s spread legs. “She kiss it better for you Joey?”

“I don’t.” It's weak, your voice. Why does it sound so small?

“But you want to don’t you?” Sam’s breath is on your ear, he’s leaning down next to you, the scruff of his chin grazing you gently. They’d walked into your room together today, smirking at each other now that you were trying to remember. What had Sam been saying? Why hadn’t you paid more attention? “You wanna kiss Joey better?” There's his voice, pulling your attention back.

Without thinking, you dig your fingers into Joe’s skin, trying to find something to hold onto. Kiss who? Kiss him.

In your periphery, Sam is nodding. Why is he—oh.

Joe is kissing you, cupping your chin as his mouth works over yours. He’s so soft, so gentle against you. There's a whimper lost between the two of you, caught as he slides his tongue over your lip. Somewhere behind you, there's the distant sound of a door shutting and a lock falling into place. That's good.

A hand leaves his lap, finding the nape of his neck, your fingers work through his hair while he nips at you. He’s even gentle then, biting at you, with a grin you can feel. Another whimper leaves your lips as you press against the table, trying to get closer to him. Sucking at his lip, you let the palm of your other hand dig deeper into his thigh, sighing when he takes a hold of your wrist and pulls you even closer.

There's weight behind you suddenly—Sam. Before you can react, his hand is back on your waist where it had been moments earlier, and his breath is on your neck, and then his mouth.

You falter against Joe, shivering as Sam kisses the side of your neck. “’S’okay.” He whispers against you, his other hand coming up to hold your chin steady. Together, he and Joe both now have a hold on your face. Broad hand around your neck, you relax into Sam’s grasp, lost between the two of them.

It’s dizzying, when they finally let you up for air, Sam’s hand even softer on you as Joe’s falls away completely. Hands in his lap, his forehead rests on yours, a loose curl trapped between the two of you. He’s breathing heavily, and his cheeks are flushed pink. God he’s pretty.

“I think Sam feels left out.” You follow his eyes to your right, catching Sam’s gaze. “Go on.” Joe's voice is gentle, and soon his hand replaces Sam’s on your waist.

With far less grace, Sam presses himself against you. He’s rougher to the touch, the scruff on his chin rough against you as he kisses you. He’s heavier on you, and he bites harder, nipping at your lip like he means it, tugging on it until you relax into him. There's a warm feeling spreading through you when he finally lets up a little, sucking on your tongue as he holds you by the throat. Tighter, you think.

You must say it out loud, into his mouth, because his grip is stronger suddenly, fingers pressed into the side of your neck as he kisses you harder.

A hand still on your waist—is it Joey’s still? Another grabs at the one still in Joe’s lap, splaying your fingers across something warm. Twisting in Sam’s grasp, your eyes open. Hand over yours, Joe has you touching him. A whimper rises in your throat and Sam’s grip tightens again.

Releasing your mouth, he turns his attention back to your neck, relaxing only enough to let you look down at Joe’s lap. He’s hard under your hand, thighs flexed as he strains against your touch.

“I think Joey’s sore, baby.” Sam’s hand is falling from your neck, sliding down until he’s got your breast in his palm, rolling the sensitive skin under his fingers. “You don’t want your favorite patient sore, now do you?”

Your head shakes, and before you can think about it, Joe is helping you with the waistband of his shorts. God he’s—whose hand is that?

Still pressed to your back, Sam has a hand over your breast and another over the front of your leggings, his fingers grazing your center. “Joe, baby, worry about him. I’ll worry about you.” I’ll worry about you. Has Sam’s voice always been so deep?

Leaning back on the table, Joe has a hand braced behind him, and the other on the band of his shorts, holding them down as you turn your attention back to him. It’s big, just like the rest of him. Ignoring how heavy he is, you wrap your hand around it, shuddering as Sam touches you again.

There's a brief blur, as you begin to stroke Joe, all while trying to focus through Sam’s hands. He’s being so, so rough. Faltering against Joe, you shudder as Sam pulls your leggings down, tearing through the fabric.

You don’t know what happens first, but there's a hand at the back of your head, and one around your throat and you're choking for a moment. Joe’s cock is still in your hand but now he’s in your mouth, leaking onto your tongue. Behind you, Sam has his fingers on you—no—in you.

“That’s a good girl.” Joe’s voice sounds sweet, earnest, despite the vulgarity of the situation. You’re smiling at his tone when he pushes further into your mouth. When he moans, you’re grinning.

“Such a good girl, kissing Joe better while I touch you.” You're dripping around his fingers, warmth spreading down your thighs as he works his fingers within you. “You want more baby? You think she can take more, Joey?”

Through heavy eyes you look up in time to see Joey nodding weakly, jaw slack as he keeps himself steady against the back of your throat. I can, I can take more, please, Sam. You nod too, spit slipping down your chin.

And that's all it takes, in an instant, his fingers are replaced by something much bigger, and when you think it’s almost too much, just when you start to choke, he’s moving against you, hands braced at your sides as he grips the table in front of you.

“Just like that Sam, fuck.” Joe tenses, his thighs flexing as you rock against him. “God I wish you could see her face.”

“Yeah?”

“She’s so pretty.” Joe looks down at you, that same, earnest look in his bright blue eyes. “You’re such a pretty girl, taking him like that, choking all over me. She’s trying so hard.”

He’s still talking moments later, even when you’ve gotten lost again, and when he tenses again, he doesn’t stop. “Sam, dude, I can’t—fuck. God she’s so—Jesus Christ.” Babbling incoherently, his cock throbs against your lips until he’s spilling down the back of your throat, eyes rolling in his head.

You’ve hardly let him go when Sam follows. Hands tight on your waist, he bears down against you, chest pressed tight on you as he comes hard. And that’s it. It’s over in an instant, the heat of the moment gone, leaving only the wet feeling between your legs and the dribble of spit on your chin behind as evidence.

Body limp, you crumple against Joe’s chest, breathing heavy in time with the rising and falling of his shoulders. His heartbeat is loud and fast, thundering in his chest as you rest on him, unable to move.

With a hand on your cheek, he pulls you closer, using his shirt to wipe at your chin. In a moment of clarity later you would realize the sweetness of it, but for now, you just whimper into his hand, letting your tired eyes close as he holds you.

“Shhh.” Stroking your face with his thumb, you can hear movement behind you. Sam’s calloused hands are on you, tugging your leggings back up. With fingers too thick for fine work, he fumbles with the waistband, trying to smooth it out across your skin.

“There she is. How’s my favorite trainer?” Joe tilts your chin, meeting your eyes with a smirk playing on his lips. Really, really good.

“I…” Have you always stuttered this much? “I’m good.”

“Yeah?”

“Tired?” He presses a kiss to the crown of your head, laughing.

“Thirsty?” It's the first thing you think of, cheeks pink with a twinge of embarrassment. They seem so put together, why are you such a mess?

“Yeah? You wanna get a beer, with your favorite patient maybe?”

“Patients. Plural.” Sam's voice is low and clear behind them. “It was my idea, after all.”

A/N: Find the next part here.

#HELL.#IN A HANDBASKET.#me for writing it you for reading it #and x reader????#😭😭😭#chattahoochiecoochie writes #joe burrow #sam hubbard #joe burrow smut #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow fic #joe burrow fanfic #sam hubbard smut #bengals smut #idk what to tag this I'm so ashamed

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cider-est · 2 months

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The full lineup is almost done!! (just needs some touch ups and a Chunsik design👍) FEEDBACK IS GREATLY APRECIATED!!

Design process under here (whole lot of yapping)

General thoughts: Ive given them in my previous design sheet (you can find it in my blog)(tldr: designs match characters but still childish, 8-12 years old). Only thing different here, is that these eggs were eggs who I had less of a clear idea of what I wanted to do with them (though I still really liked where I ended up!!)

Empanada: Didnt want to go for the full sweet lolita route, mostly because I thought it'd take away the "little kidness" of it all, but something that still resembles the aesthetic. She's wearing "carneirinhos" (idk the name in english) which is very cute little girl to me, and shes also a demon! Her tail resembles a frying pan!! Though I might change her fringe (it was supposed to be baby hairs but now that I think about it, her type of hair probably wouldnt have them) and put some argyle pattern in her sweater vest. I just forgor💀 to do that...I also wish I had made her shorter, but unfortunetely I drew this before the eggs did the height check (YES ITS BEEN THAT LONG).

Sunny: My beautiful baby girl. She means the world to me. I love this minecraft egg with all my heart. Shes wearing Light up sketchers and some fairy wings like Pomme, and shes actually wearing a swimsuit, she just put a tutu over it. The diamonds they're always holding are rings, they have a "terere" in their hair (idk name in english😭😭) and the beads were inspired by an artist on twt (@\BLUETOMATOSODA). Also if you are wondering why her hair looks like tentacles, its because I had originally made it puffy, but changed my mind after doing the lineart, so i had to get creative with me covering it up. Just pretend she has a fan, shes a star after all!

Pepito: Basically, he is very smoll. Chiquito even. He has strawberry hair and MASSIVE glasses that take up his entire face. Hes wearing a swimsuit aswell (dont ask how it works idk either), and has floaties since he cant swim. Hes got crocs, since flip flops hurt his toes, with a spider man charm on them! Also hes got a sunhat, mostly cause I wanted some other accessorie but didnt want to go with gas mask since it'd kinda kill the whole swimming vibe (since his model is wearing a swimsuit). sorry if its not too accurate to his character. Side note: Him, Em and Sunny all have freckles! Him and Sunny all over their bodies while Em just has on her cheeks.

Leo: Cute sporty vibe, love her shorty spiky hair. Wanted to try to make her face spiky aswell, for the whole shark dad thing. Shes got a necklace with a shark tooth (I guess she got it from Foolish??). He changes tshirts randomly, and opens and closes his attack on titan hoodie depending on the tshirt's expression (basically my version of Leo changing her player heads constantly). His trainers have dragon wings and also: whealies!!

Dapper: Im gonna be honest: did not expect to like his design THIS much. The colouring really elevated, with the long blue hair (the same colour as the ghosties!). Wanted to make them, y'know, dapper, so I had to sacrifice some of the "little kid vibes" unfortunetely, but I think it fits her still. The hat has part of the helmet that they used to wear a lot, demon horn to match Pomme, and a suit that is VERY inspired by Death the Kid from Soul Eater (very fitting for a reaper in training imo). Might be my favourite design!

Ramon: Jesus fuck you'd think designing your fav egg would be easy BUT NO. I struggled long and hard. Again, he doesnt have that much "little kid" vibe whatever man😭😭 Im just happy that I even managed to make SOMETHING. Hes got Create googles, his meathead is a massive hat that completely hides his hair. Very simple, very Ramon, though I will probably end up making a version with an ugly sweater just like he likes instead😔. I still like it but. man...

ANYWAYS IF YOU READ ALL THAT MWAH, YOURE A REAL ONE, THANKS FOR ENTERTAINING MY THOUGHTS🫶🫶🫶

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jakelandryshorts · 10 months

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Military Test Subject

(AI art created by Jammer Link)

“Hot damn!” General Smith shouted when he saw the recruit. “You boys really outdid yourselves!”

“Thank you,” Andrew smiled at the praise. It’d been over a year of testing, but they finally found a compound that would actually work and be good for application. They were given Kyle Briggs nearly a month ago and he was a pretty standard soldier. Maybe even considered to be on the weaker side. It wasn’t even a week before they started to notice changes.

He’d gained almost 15 pounds of muscle and grew another inch taller. The physical trainer said this was unprecedented. He’d been sworn to secrecy, yet the scientists had quickly learned that wouldn’t have been necessary. They found him sneaking off with the test subject and having sex. It was noted that the physical trainer was the happiest bottom they had ever seen. Even though he had sworn up and down that he was straight when they hired him, he said it was impossible to think about anything other than the subject’s cock slamming into him.

By week three, it was nearly impossible to separate the two. The subject had grown another three inches and gained an additional 45 pounds of muscle. He defended his lover with all his strength. More terrifying was that many of the soldiers who were told to separate the two mentioned understanding how the physical trainer must have felt. They longed to go back in there. It was about two or three days and the soldiers were found still trying to emulate sex with the test subject.

No other soldiers would volunteer to be in the same room as the subject.

By week four, he’d gained another 100 pounds and five inches taller. He looked like an absolute monster. Any goal that they had set for him was easily smashed down. They had to weigh him over the intercom and the physical trainer was more than happy to help get the measurements, however no one else was allowed into the room with them. The week after that, there were no noticeable differences to his weight changes.

“Well then!” General Smith slapped his knee. “Let’s go meet him!”

“W-what!?” Andrew jumped out of his seat and stumbled through the room to block the door. “Sir. That’s not a good idea.”

“Is he violent?” General Smith asked.

“Violent? No. It’s just—”

“Son, I’ve been in this field a long time. I don’t need you to tell me how to meet my recruits,” General Smith pushed Andrew to the side.

“Sir,” one of the general’s guards said. “Shouldn’t we listen to him?”

Andrew nodded furiously. His voice was stuck as he was never very good at talking to his superiors. “Yes! Please! You don’t under—”

“Nonsense. If you’re going to chicken out as well, then I’ll just go meet the new recruit on my own. Out of my way.” General Smith pushed Andrew fully to the side and opened the door. Andrew held his breath and then pushed the door closed.

“Hmmm?” The guard’s eyebrow raised. He felt his cock harden in his pants as he looked at the test subject. His hand instinctually went to touch his dick.

Andrew let out a sigh. “Don’t worry, it’ll hopefully wear off in about 24 hours. But it’s too late for him…” He pointed his thumb over his shoulder at the general. For a second, the bodyguard didn’t believe the little man, but he quickly realized that his eyes hadn’t left the test subject’s body since the door had been opened. That strange musky scent hung in his nose and his pants had come undone, revealing his fat cock. “Let’s get you out of here so you aren’t tempted anymore. And I’ve got to make a few phone calls.”

Someone handed the guard an impressively sized dildo. The bodyguard would have been mortified at any other time wondering how someone could fit this inside them, let alone the insinuation that he would. But his hands happily ran up and down the silicone rod as he thought about the impressively built man on the other side of the glass wall. He followed the man and struggled not to look back at the test subject.

However, General Smith was still being monitored as he walked through the subject’s area. Sweat started to drip down his forehead and the sharply dressed man quickly started to undo the top buttons of his uniform. “Hot damn!” the general cursed. “They sure as hell love to pump the heat up in here…” He wiped his brow as he approached the subject.

The subject sat up from the bench press he’d just been using. His eyebrow cocked. A wry grin appeared on his face. “I don’t find it too bad,” he answered. A thick layer of sweat covered his body. The hair on his chest matted to his pecs and abs.

“That makes one of us,” General Smith laughed as he continued his approach. He didn’t even notice as he stripped off his military jacket, kicked off his shoes and undid his belt. The feeling of the somewhat cool air on his body felt so good that he just left them on the floor where they fell. “I’m General Smith. I’m your new boss.”

“Oh?” the subject laughed. Mostly because the general’s hard cock looked to be throbbing in his underwear. “I see…” The subject stood up.

General Smith never considered himself to be a small man. At 6’1” and a little overweight 220 pounds, most people were a bit shorter than him. However, he had to crane his neck back to get a proper look at this beast of a man. General Smith barely even came up to his chest. His eyes had move to bring the man fully into view. He gasped.

“Y-yes,” General Smith tried to regain his senses. It didn’t help that his hand was pleasuring his cock. He reached it out for a handshake. “With a man like you on board, I doubt we’ll need much of a military.”

The subject laughed at the joke and accepted the handshake. His hand completely engulfed the general’s. It looked more like a gorilla hand over a human’s. The subject quickly pulled the general into a hug. General Smith’s face landed directly between the subject’s massive pecs.

The general took in a deep breath. He didn’t even realize that his hips bucked or feel the wet stain forming in his underwear. His mind was far too focused on the man in front of him. The strong powerful scent that completely overwhelmed him. His senses didn’t take in anything other than the man. His hands groped the powerful muscles and felt their strength.

“They don’t let many friends come in here…” the subject complained. “I’m happy to meet you.”

“And I’m happy to meet you…” the general moaned. He wasn’t even fighting it anymore. His hands tried to touch every inch of the powerful man in front of him, groping and grasping at whatever he could get a hold of. Of course, the subject was happy to comply, flexing his arms and legs as the general’s hands tried to grasp around it. It was an impossible task as the human was far too small.

The subject chuckled as the general pulled out the subject's hefty sized cock. The small man was trying desperately to find a hole for it to fit in. “Your hands are fine,” the subject said. The general’s face beamed as he started stroking the monster sized cock. It had to be well over a foot long and thick as the general’s arm.

General Smith instantly started stroking it. His whole body had to get into the motion. But he looked like he’d never been happier in his life. The subject stood tall, flexing his body as his cock was milked. Loud deep moans rumbled the building. He was fully into it. All the way up to the point that he coated the general with his cum. Big splashes hit the general in his face and rolled down his body.

“Excellent job…” the subject praised. The general tried to get started again, but the subject stopped him. “You need to take a rest.” He lifted up the man and cradled him in his arms as he took him over to see the physical trainer. “You two will be working together for a while. I can’t wait to actually fuck him.” A devious smile overtook the subjects face as he watched the two men cuddle together.

The subject turned back to the scientists. “You know you can always give me more friends to play with.”

Over the next week the subject grew another inch and gained 15 pounds of muscle.

(More Stories over on my Wordpress https://jakelandrystories.wordpress.com/)

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octuscle · 2 months

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Business Trip (Day two)

Shit, it's after 10:00 when I wake up in my hotel room. Naked on the bed. My, or rather Liam's, clothes strewn across the floor. My bed crusted with cum. Filled condoms on the floor. Shit, my head is going to explode. What the fuck happened last night. And where's my mobile phone?

I call my client from the landline phone in the hotel room. I call in sick. Terrible migraine. Of course I'll be back in the morning. Yes, of course I'm staying until Friday under the circumstances and not leaving on Thursday as planned. Yes, I'm inconsolable. The chambermaid knocks. I open the door and hang the "Do not disturb" sign on the door. Naked. And I go back to bed.

At 6.00 pm I'm freshly showered and in my spare suit at Liam's snack bar. His clothes are in a laundry bag from the hotel. The only thing I'm still wearing of Liam's are his worn-out trainers. I didn't pack a change of shoes for a four-day appointment.The snack bar is busy. He grins at me and asks me to either wait or come back in an hour. However, it would be totally sick if I could help him in the kitchen. He can't keep up with washing the dishes. I grin and say that I mustn't ruin my last suit. He laughs and asks what happened to my clothes from yesterday. I hold up the bag. Come on, what are you waiting for, get changed and then I'll quickly show you how the dishwasher works, he calls out to me. My jeans are still damp from my urine. And only now do I realise that I didn't pick up my T-shirt from yesterday but Liam's vest from the floor. Shit, I'd like to know what else happened yesterday. Liam comes into the kitchen, hands me two long rubber gloves, a hairnet and gives me a quick briefing on the industrial dishwasher. He gives me a deep French kiss and hurries back to the cookery counter. Damn, the urine in my jeans is now joined by more precum.

The mountain of dirty dishes is slowly getting smaller. I'm sweating like a pig in the heat of the scullery. But I'm starting to find my way round. Liam calls out to me to clear and wipe the tables. I don't even think anymore, I act. The small dining room in the snack bar is packed with guests. It stinks of sweat, beer and frying fat. I walk around between the guests with the plastic basket from the dishwasher and collect glasses, bottles and plates. Suddenly I feel a strong grip on my crotch. A greasy bloke, long-distance lorry driver type, looks at me lustfully. "Oh, not just a fuck-whore, but also a dishwashing slave," he says. He slips me five pounds and says that he still owes me that for the hot blowjob. I have no idea what the truck driver was talking about. But I take the five pounds. Liam shouts that he needs fresh plates. I grab the basket of dirty dishes and hurry towards the scullery.

When I get there, I slip on some grease on the floor and the basket tips over and spills all over me. Now I'm covered in the food left behind by the people. The grease drips off me. Everyone is laughing and shouting 'take your filthy clothes off, boy' and I'm standing in the middle of the café covered in slime. I have no choice but to take my clothes off. But as I do so, I remember that I'm still wearing Liam's dirty, cum-stained jock…. Liam snaps at me that I'm really useless. He tells me to go to the social room at the back. There are clothes hanging there that I can wear. The clothes look like the rubber gear of an abattoir worker. There were big black boots, some waterproof trousers and a thick rubber apron. No top to wear underneath though. I stand there wearing only Liam's dirty jockstrap and slowly get into the outfit. It feels very strange to be dressed like this in a cafe. I have the strange feeling that I'm being watched…. I didn't notice the camera in the room. There's no time for that. After Liam gets really angry, I hurry to clean up the mess of my mishap and then get on with the dirty dishes in the kitchen. Sweat is pouring down my forehead and all over my body.

I swear the heating has been turned up because it's like an oven in here now. Dirty plates are piling up and I am struggling to keep up with the workload. Liam laughs and says if I don't get my shit sorted he'll have to discipline me later. He's smiling when he says it, but there's something in his tone that makes me think he's deadly serious. When I'm more or less finished with the dishes, I go back to the dining room to clear the tables. The clock tells me it's now 22:00. I've been slaving away for four hours. Only two guests are left. The sign on the door had been changed to 'closed' and the two remaining guests were both elderly men. They looked at me expectantly as I came in from the kitchen. "We've been waiting for you, son," one of them said. Then they both got up from their chairs…

Liam is cleaning the counter. "I told you that you deserved to be chastised," he says. "When you made that mess, you got the two guests' shoes dirty. You should apologize." I say I'm sorry and collect the last of the dirty glasses. "Shit, Boi! That's not an apology. It won't get your boots clean either." I ask for a rag. One of the two guests grins and says, "What do you need it for? He sits down and puts one of the boots on another chair. "You've got a healthy tongue, Boi. Let's go!" I'm wearing rubber clothes, I'm sweaty, I'm wearing a hairnet… And the two old guys look really hot. I get down on my knees. I'm a slut. And sluts lick other guys' boots clean. While I lick the boots of one guest, the other one wanks. Occasionally I get distracted from my job for a moment and lick his cock. I have a colossal boner in my butcher's pants. Sweat and precum have made my or Liam's jockstrap soaking wet. I'm almost done with the second boot when the other guy grabs my chin and turns it towards his cock. I don't react fast enough to swallow. And his full load of cum smacks me in the face. Liam takes photos.

It's just after midnight when Liam and I step out of the snack bar. Liam has stuffed my suit into a plastic bag. He lights a cigarette. I ask him if I can have one too. I haven't had a single cigarette all day. He hands me tobacco and a leaf. I look at him questioningly? "Roll your own, saves money." And he gives me 20 pounds. "Your wages for tonight." The two old guys gave him 200 pounds each for licking their boots.

#male tf #submission #forced tf #white to blue collar tf #business trip

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youcouldmakealife · 5 months

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LBTE: Jared (122-124)

In which Jared and Bryce think they can interact in public without Gabe figuring out they're married, and Chaz Rossi would like to die.

If you want to follow along, the series page is here.

122. Subterfuge

Jared goes to dinner at Gabe and Stephen’s, and it’s nice. Well, nice might not be the right word — Gabe is totally right about the similarities between Jared and Stephen, and if he makes people feel as nervous that he’s judging them fiercely as he feels nervous that Stephen’s judging him fiercely, he is officially sorry.

Those poor Canucks rookies.

Not sorry enough to stop — he doesn’t even think he’s capable of that —

Those poor, poor Canucks rookies.

It’s nice. Would be even nicer if it was the kind of thing him and Bryce could do together, but he knows Bryce isn’t ready for it, and honestly he’s just happy Bryce is willing to meet Gabe at all, even if it’s not as Jared’s husband.

Like, one, progress, but also: hahaha you guys think you can pull this off.

Wins are hard enough to come by for the Oilers without the salt in the wound of a former player getting the game-winner and the insurance goal.

I would like everyone to enjoy the thought of an absolutely incensed Deslauriers during that game.

Neither of the goals against the Oilers were milestones, technically, but Gabe fished the first puck out of the net anyway, got their trainer Dillon to write ‘1st career goal against the Oilers’ on it

Gabe’s such a good A, truly. Would have done that for any of his guys.

If he isn’t careful he’s going to be grinning wide enough to split his face, and that would probably tip Gabe off.

They STILL think they can pull this off.

“My friend Chaz,” Jared says. “He was my linemate on the Hitmen. And um. Chaz’s teammate Bryce is going to be joining in a bit.”

“Nice to meet you,” Gabe says, and when all the introduction pleasantries are over Chaz gives Jared a completely disgusted look.

The way Jared low-key made it sound like Chaz went ‘hey, is it cool if my friend Bryce comes too?’. Chaz is beside himself. Why did he agree to this. (He did it for the lolz. But now that the day has arrived, he is not, in fact, loling)

They talk Juniors for a bit, Gabe telling them about his time with the Knights. He roomed with the captain of the Panthers, which is kind of crazy.

Hi Jake! And love Jared still low-key fanboying players.

“Hey,” Bryce says when he gets to the table, posture almost as awkward as it is when he’s got a mic in his face. “Jared. Long time no see.”

“Yeah,” Jared says. “Um. Nice to see you again.”

Chaz wants to die.

Dinner’s awkward. Well, he doesn’t think dinner’s actually awkward from Gabe’s perspective, at least he hopes not? But it’s honestly all Jared can do not to text Bryce under the table to meet him in the bathroom so he can just hug him, not even do anything else

The only thing more uncomfortable than third-wheeling a couple eye-fucking is a couple eye-desperately-clinging-to-one-another-for-dear-life-ing.

The only thing holding Chaz together right now is the group chat. Also the fact Gabe CLEARLY has figured it out so every extra moment of this is a shared suffering, as he now has a fourth wheel.

Jared would make a good spy, he thinks.

Oh my god, Jared.

“So,” Jared says, trying to think of something to say that isn’t ‘finish your beer, Gabe’. “Chaz. Known him for years.”

He is squirming in his seat he wants to leave so badly, and he is very red, and his fake casual voice is extremely stilted. Gabe is feeling deeply fond of him right now.

Gabe takes a sip of beer. It isn’t a big enough sip, in Jared’s opinion.

SQUIRMING. And Gabe’s been with Stephen long enough that he might just be taking his time because it’s hilarious.

“You know you can just tell me you’re married, though.”

“I did?” Jared says.

“I mean to Bryce,” Gabe says.

He’s still Gabe, though, so he doesn’t torture him with it too long.

“You’re both wearing wedding rings,” Gabe says. “Like, matching ones.”

“All wedding rings pretty much look the same,” Jared says.

Gabe raises an eyebrow at him.

“And I know he’s from Vancouver, because that always comes up when we play the Flames,” Gabe says. “And I know that you’re living with your mother-in-law right now.”

“That could be a coincidence?” Jared says weakly.

“Also you haven’t stopped looking at each other all night,” Gabe says. “And not glances or anything, that was full on—”

There is deductive reasoning happening here, but even if Gabe hadn’t noticed any of the other things, the eye pining would have done it. It was not subtle.

What’s he going to say? ‘No, he’s not my husband, I actually spent all dinner eye-fucking a dude who isn’t my husband’? That’s objectively much worse than eye-fucking your own husband, which Jared is morally and legally entitled to do.

It is Jared’s RIGHT and his DUTY.

“Um,” Jared tries, but he’s mostly blank. He’s not great at making excuses at the best of times, and definitely not when he’s been called out and has no proper defence on hand. He would, in fact, make a terrible spy.

I do appreciate that after Jared makes objectively absurd statements he’s often the first to acknowledge that they are, in fact, absurd statements. (Sometimes because they’re only occurring in his head, because fuck knows all his friends would burst out laughing if Jared made the mistake of saying ‘I think I’d make a good spy’ out loud)

“Totally get that,” Gabe says. “I’ve uh. I’ve heard some stuff about him—”

Great. Terrific. Jared’s very favourite topic.

“Before you say anything, he was like — all of that was before we got together,” Jared says. “And he was young and — the shit the media says about him—”

Gabe puts his hands up. Which means they’re off his beer, but Jared thinks he’s been given permission to book it, so that’s okay. “I didn’t mean it accusingly. You know your relationship better than anyone else.”

Couple fun things here — including Jared’s continued hawk eye on Gabe’s drinking speed — but yeah, Jared misinterprets Gabe a LOT at the beginning because Gabe is almost TOO nice, and Jared reads into things that aren’t actually meant any way other than Gabe said it? And here’s another incidence of it — if Jared had let Gabe finish his message it was assuring Jared ‘I vaguely read some shit but I don’t put stock in rumours and media and Bryce has a clean slate with me’. Basically.

“Hey Jared?” Gabe asks.

“Yeah?” Jared says.

“Nice,” Gabe says.

Look man this guy is common-law married to Stephen Petersen and longtime-liney married to Dmitry Kurmazov, he has to have a little bit of troll in him.

Gabe shoos him off, and it’s kind of embarrassing, the speed Jared leaves that restaurant.

Gabe describes this as, and I quote, ‘speed-walking like a snowbird in Florida on a grimly determined constitutional’

(If anyone’s unfamiliar with the term: snowbirds are people, generally retirees, from northern climes, especially Canada (especially ESPECIALLY Quebec) and sometimes the Northeastern US, who spend their winters in warmer climates. They fly south for the winter, like migratory birds. Florida is a particularly popular destination for snowbirds.)

A constitutional is walking (to aid one’s constitution). It’s dated as fuck anywhere outside like, Victorian fiction. I love Gabe.

123. Quiet Night In

Jared is vaguely out of breath when he reaches his apartment, which might say something bad about his cardiovascular fitness. Or, more realistically, it says something embarrassing about the speed he made it home, considering he’s fit enough to handle second line minutes in a damn hockey game.

Snow birded the whole way home, but I think the anticipation have something to do with the shortness of breath.

He takes a moment in front of the door, partly trying to find his key — he’s got way too many on his keychain now — but also so he doesn’t barge in looking like a complete idiot, not that he thinks Bryce would mind, or like, even notice.

Jared has finally accepted how rosy Bryce’s glasses are when it comes to him.

“You’re home early,” Bryce says, and glances at Chaz, in a way Jared can totally see is a ‘Jared’s home, get the hell out of our apartment so we can hug and then fuck’ look, though Chaz appears not to notice.

Chaz notices. Chaz is ignoring it, because it is rude to give that look to your guest.

“He sort of figured out we’re married,” Jared says. “Something about the matching wedding rings and you being from Richmond and the fact we wouldn’t stop staring at each other the whole time.”

There was pining. There was yearning.

“He said he won’t tell anyone,” Jared says. He’ll save the addition of ‘and complimented me on my impeccable taste in men’ for when Chaz is gone. Which should be soon.

“Okay,” Bryce says, and glances over at Chaz again.

The looks they’re both giving Chaz right now almost make dinner subtle in comparison.

“Out of my house,” Jared says. “Now.”

“I’m literally putting my shoes on right now,” Chaz says. “What more do you want from me?”

“Put them on in the hall,” Jared says.

Jared is actually the worst.

“I missed this bed,” Jared says.

“You have the same one at my mom’s,” Bryce says.

“It’s not the same,” Jared says.

“Because I’m not in it?” Bryce says.

Well, also because this one just seems to know Jared’s body, but —

“Yeah,” Jared says. “Pretty much.”

Good use of your brain-to-mouth filter, Jared, you should do it more often.

“Gabe,” Bryce says.

“Oh,” Jared says, suddenly wide awake thanks to the rush of absolute mortification that runs through his body. Bryce was a great distraction from it, but he suspects that conversation is going to occasionally leap at him right when he’s falling asleep for like, the rest of his life.

Jared is so lucky it was Gabe that happened with, and not literally any other person, who would torture him with it for life, as is their right and their duty.

“No,” Jared says.

“But,” Bryce says.

“Wait your turn,” Jared says, doing his best to ignore Bryce looking sadly at him through the glass.

“But I missed you,” Bryce says plaintively.

Tragic. Heartbreaking. About to break Jared’s fragile anti-shower sex agenda.

124. Hospitality

“May the best team win tonight, hey?” his dad says. Erin’s in a Canucks jersey — Jared’s genuinely surprised she isn’t wearing his old Oilers one to troll both him and everyone in the arena, mom must have threatened her or something — but his dad isn’t, is wearing one from Jared’s Hitmen era.

Jared eyes him and his very Calgarian jersey. “That sounds mature of you,” he says.

Jared is correct about his sister, and his suspicions about his father are also correct, because they’re a bunch of gremlins.

“Dad’s very mature now, Jared,” Erin says. “He’s grown up a lot since you went to Vancouver.”

I love Erin.

“You want the Flames to win tonight, don’t you?” Jared guesses.

“You’re a lock!” his dad says. “The Canucks are making the postseason no matter what! The Flames need this game!”

“Don,” his mom says.

“I’m just saying that one team needs this game more than the other team does,” his dad mutters.

“You want Bryce to beat me tonight,” Jared says. “Like — just to be clear, you want Bryce to beat me? You want your only son to lose this game to Bryce Marcus. Bryce Marcus.”

“Fuck off,” his dad mutters.

“Don!” his mom says.

Jared can’t stop grinning. “I’m really proud of you, dad,” he says.

Simultaneously character growth and character regression because Don Matheson, everyone.

They look all — familial, Jared guesses? Like Elaine’s officially part of the family now, like there’s a Marcus-Matheson tribe. She’s probably going out with them before the game, sticking around after Jared flies out, staying in his and Bryce’s guest room, her and Bryce going to his parents’ place for dinner, eating his dad’s food while all the Mathesons pretend to be nice people for the length of her visit.

At a certain point is it still pretending, or do the Mathesons become nice people when Elaine’s around?

It’s weird how that makes Jared happier than it does like, left out? But good, he guesses. Like, he’ll probably end up sulking about not getting to stick around and eat his dad’s cooking and watch his family pretend they aren’t evil so that they don’t scare Elaine away, but the fact that they’re doing it even when Jared isn’t there, that they want to hang out is — nice. Nice in the same way seeing pictures of Bryce and Chaz and Ash hanging out together makes Jared feel — grateful it’s happening even if he can’t be there.

Jared feels selfless happiness for others and is confused by it.

They’re all chirping him, but Julius’ text is straight up mean. Jared sends back a mean one of his own, and in response Julius gets even meaner. It’s making Jared feel a little better.

Look at Julius knowing exactly what Jared needs.

miss you already Bryce texts, just after Jared replies to a text from Julius saying he hopes the Canucks make it to the Conference Finals. Which sounds nice, but Jared totally knows he means ‘and so do the Flames so you have to play against your husband, bitch’.

It means exactly that. Though Jared added the ‘bitch’ himself.

Soft, Jared replies, but can’t help but add a You too, because he’s also soft, he guesses. But only for Bryce. Julius is getting another mean text.

The duality of Jared.

“Kind of surprised you didn’t figure it out sooner,” Stephen says. “It was all over hockey news when it happened.”

“I was pretty much just following the Flames and playing my own game back then,” Jared says. “Also I was like, twelve?”

This was the meanest thing Jared could say and he wasn’t even trying.

“You’re a baby,” Stephen says.

“Hey,” Jared says.

“An infant,” Stephen says. “Maybe a toddler.”

“I am not a toddler,” Jared says.

“Kindergarten at most,” Stephen says.

Look how fast Jared’s growing!

“Twenty-one,” Stephen mutters. “Jesus christ.”

“Does it help that Bryce is twenty-four?” Jared asks.

“Does it—” Stephen says. “He’s twenty-four? You met — you were a baby.”

Jared is suddenly aware that it does not help that Bryce is twenty-four.

You would think at some point Jared would learn this, but you would be wrong.

“Do I need to call your mother?” Stephen asks.

“Stephen,” Gabe says.

“I’m calling your mother,” Stephen says. “What’s her number.”

As much as Gabe and Stephen never want Jared to meet their parents? Jared is suddenly just as intent that Stephen never meets his father. He feels like it wouldn’t go well for him.

“Stephen,” Gabe says. “Stop, he looks petrified.”

“I know,” Stephen says. “It’s hilarious.”

Jared can only DREAM of becoming Stephen Petersen one day.

#liveblogging the end

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canirove · 4 months

Text

Broken Hearts Football Club | Chapter 27

Previous chapter | Next chapter

Masterlist

"June, where do you think you are going?"

"To my date with Ben."

"Looking like that?" Kiera said. "No way."

"What is wrong with my clothes?" June asked.

"You can't go out on a date wearing jeans and an England hoodie."

"Why not? It's Ben, he's seen it all already, good and bad."

"But you are going to a restaurant. You can't show up looking like that."

"Well, this is all I have" June shrugged.

"Come with me" Kiera said, taking her hand.

"Where?"

"To Ella's room. She brought some fancy clothes."

"Why?" June laughed.

"It's Ella. Do you seriously have to ask?"

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"Don't laugh, Chilwell" June said as she walked towards him. "If you dare laughing, I'm killing you."

"I won't, I promise. But you are wearing something under that coat, aren't you?"

"Of course I am, you idiot" she replied, rolling her eyes.

"It must be tiny, tho."

"It's one of Ella's dresses, that's why it is so short on me. I didn't bring anything fancy and the girls forbade me from leaving the hotel wearing jeans and one of our hoodies."

"But they allowed you to leave wearing one of the huge coats?" Ben laughed. "And how come you didn't bring anything less casual?"

"Because I came here to play football, Chilwell. Not to go partying or having you asking me to be your girlfriend and wanting to go out to celebrate."

"Sorry" he chuckled. "Are they still being annoying about it?"

"All the damn time" June sighed.

She had had to tell them. The moment they landed in Australia, they could tell something was going on, that the stupid smile on her face wasn't because she was happy the flight was finally over.

"Poor Maxwell" Ben pouted, making fun of her. "But I'm glad they force you to wear something nice, because we are going to a fancy restaurant."

"Fancy? How fancy?"

"I'm wearing a blazer and my best shirt."

"Oh my God. I'm going back to the hotel" June said, turning around.

"Oh, c'mon Maxwell. That dress can't be that bad."

"It is worse! Don't tell Ella, but I look like a… you know."

"Show me and I'll tell you if that's the case."

"No" she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

"June…" Ben said, giving her the puppy eyes he knew she couldn't say no to.

"Ok, fine. But if you laugh…"

"You'll kill me, I know" he said. "Bloody hell, Maxwell."

"Is that a good bloody hell or a bad one?" June asked.

"Both."

"Both?"

"Good because you look smoking hot, but bad because we'll probably have everyone looking at us at the restaurant, and we want to go as unnoticed as we can."

"Great. Just great" she sighed. "Why did you have to ask me to be your girlfriend when my suitcase is just tracksuits and trainers?"

"Love works in mysterious ways" he smiled. "But c'mon, we are gonna be late."

"Ben, I'm not going to a fancy restaurant looking like I should be at a club at 3 a.m."

"Then we'll go somewhere else. But let's get into the car, I can tell you are freezing your ass off. And quite literally" he smirked, opening the door for her.

"Fuck you" June replied, showing him her middle finger.

"Now what" Ben said once they both were inside the car.

"This stupid dress has gone all the way up to my waist" she complained, moving on her seat and trying to put the dress down.

"Yeah, we can't go into a fancy restaurant with you looking like that. You are probably wearing your ugliest knickers too, the grandma brown ones."

"I'm so tempted to break up with you right here and right now, Chilwell."

"But you won't because you love me" he smiled.

"A bit less every time you open your mouth."

"Then make me shut up" he replied, his smile turning into a smirk. But June's mind was stuck on what she had just admitted. She hadn't said the three words, but she had told Ben that she loved him.

"June… June, hey. Are you ok?" he said, caressing her cheek and bringing her back to reality.

"Yes, yes, sorry. Just hungry. Where are you taking me, then?"

"We'll see what Google recommends" he replied, giving her one last look before checking his phone.

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"You weren't lying when you said you were hungry" Ben chuckled.

"Nope" June replied, giving her burguer a big bite.

"Just try not to get my blazer stained. I need it for work."

"I'm not a kid, Chilwell."

"Then why did you ask for not one, but two Happy Meals?" he laughed, June answering with her middle finger once again while still eating.

They had ended up at McDonald's. They had checked for other restaurants in the city that weren't as fancy as the one Ben had chosen, but after not finding a table, they had opted for something easy and where people would not judge her for wearing the shortest dress ever.

She was now wearing Ben's blazer to try and cover herself a bit, especially when sitting down. But like had happened with her coat, it kept looking as if she wasn't wearing anything else.

"Can you imagine that someone recognizes us, takes photos and sends them to the press? I wonder what they will say."

"They'll probably call you lame. Who takes a girl to McDonald's for a date?" she chuckled. "And if they knew you are doing it to celebrate that we are officially dating…"

"You chose coming here."

"But they don't know that" she smiled.

"I can see them say that I'm trying to corrupt you by making you eat junk food on your free day so you suck on your next game. Because we are enemies and all that."

"Ex enemies according to the last thing they wrote about us."

"Enemies to lovers" Ben smirked.

"My favourite trope" June replied with a matching smile. "What they don't know tho, is that this Happy Meal will be burned in the next few hours."

"Are you planning on going for a run?" Ben asked.

"I was thinking about riding" June replied before taking a sip of her drink, her eyes fixed on him. He was blushing.

"On that dress?"

"Maybe… I don't know… It may show my ass, but it makes my boobs look so good. What do you think?" she said, touching them and lifting them a bit more, Ben moving uncomfortably on his seat.

"Yeah, I think… I think…" he mumbled. "I think you are gonna have to finish your other burger in the car" he finally said, getting up.

"What? Why?"

"Do you want to go riding in there?"

"There? What… oh" June said, following Ben's eyes. He was looking at the bathroom's door.

"Yes, oh" he smirked.

"As exciting as it sounds, God knows what that bathroom has seen. And who has been there."

"My hotel room, then?"

"Your hotel room" she said, putting what was left of her food inside the Happy Meal box.

"You look ridiculous right now, Maxwell" Ben laughed when he saw her standing up wearing his blazer and the tiny dress, her bag on one hand and the red box on the other.

"Yet you still want to fuck me" she whispered with a mischievous smile.

"Badly" he replied.

"Then let's go."

"After you, Miss Maxwell."

"Thank… Chilwell!" she yelped when he squeezed her butt as she turned around.

"Sorry. Couldn't help myself" he said, trying to give her an innocent smile.

"I'm tying up your hands."

"Ok" he shrugged. "Sounds fun."

"We'll see if you say the same after I'm done with you."

"Looking forward to it" Ben smiled, hugging June from behind as she started walking away, leaving kisses all over her neck and making her giggle like an idiot.

#ben chilwell #ben chilwell fanfic #ben chilwell imagine #football fanfic #football imagine

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lou-struck · 7 months

Text

Spooky Spikes

Kotaro Bokuto x reader

Flufftober Day 3- Halloween Practice

~Bokuto is excited for you to come to his Halloween volleyball practice so he can show off the costume you gave him.

Warnings: Bare butt cheeks (No Smut I promise very SFW), Bokuto is taller and has a bigger butt than the reader, Cursing.

There’s something about the fall that makes your little kitchen coffee corner feel just a bit cozier. The warm scents of cinnamon, cloves, and cardamom fill your nose as you brew yourself a steaming cup of chai tea. The ceramic mug is warm in your hand as you grip the pumpkin-shaped handle. Carefully walking it over to the sun-soaked kitchen table, the large window giving you the perfect view of your neighbor’s old apple tree. The leaves are just beginning to change from deep green to a crisp yellow around the slightly pathetic-looking fruits.

You raise the cup to your lips, letting your eyes flutter shut as you breathe in what can only be described as ‘Liquid Autumn.’ Blowing slightly on the wisps of steam to take your first sip. You hear a loud thudding sound coming from down the hall and pause.

Usually, you would be concerned and follow the noise, but you live with your lovingly klutzy boyfriend Kotaro Bokuto. The Volleyball player has never been the quietest in the morning when he is getting ready for morning practice.

“Babeeee, I need help.” his boisterous voice calls from behind you, the sound causing you to jolt as a bit of your tea splatters over the lip of the cup, down your hand, and onto the previously clean tabletop.

“Kou, what do you need ~” You turn your head mid-sentence and lose your train of thought when you see the tall form of your boyfriend. But instead of his defined muscles and owlish two-toned hair, all you see is a long white sheet draped over him; the only thing you are able to see of him behind the sheet is bare feet that poke out from .” What the hell are you wearing?”

“Boo!” he yells, too elated to answer your question, the happy yet slightly muffled sounds bouncing off the walls and throwing his sheet-covered arms up into the air. “Did I scare ya? I can’t see very well in this thing, so you’ll have to tell me what you think of my costume.”

Oh, right. Today is the MSBY Jackals’ annual Halloween practice. It’s just like any other practice, but the players get to wear some costumes as they play. Judging by your lovable boyfriend’s costume, he has forgotten that he actually needs to be able to play in his costume.

“Are you going as a ghost?” You ask, gently pulling up the sheet to reveal his thick gray eyebrows, pinkish cheeks, and ruffled two-toned hair. It must be pretty hot under there.

“Yeah, pretty iconic, don’t you think?” he winks, leaning in to give you a minty fresh kiss. “It’s a bit hard to see, though. Can you help me make some eye holes?” he asks, reaching a muscled arm just past you over to the knife block. Your stomach drops at the continuation he is making when he grabs your well-loved kitchen scissors.

“Babe, these are our good sheets.” you giggle, gently prying the kitchen scissors from his much larger hands. “We can’t just cut holes into them. And you are definitely not going to be able to play volleyball in that thing. You can’t even lift your arms to Spike.”

His features fall in the most heartbreaking way as he looks down at the linen sheet, mourning the loss of his Halloween costume idea. “But that was my big plan. I thought of it the other day when one of the trainers said that my spikes were scary.” His golden gaze drifts to the glowing green numbers on the stovetop. “Shoot, Practice starts in an hour and I don’t have another costume. What do I do?”

You place a comforting hand on his bicep and give him a reassuring smile. “We still have time to think of something for you, what did you wear last year? I don’t remember you telling me.”

“I-I can’t tell you that,” he says quickly, his large hand coming up to hide the rapidly spreading blush on his cheeks; it’s too embarrassing to talk about.”

“But not embarrassing enough to not wear it to the gym surrounded by at least twenty people?”

He still shakes his head adamantly. “I don’t have that costume anymore, we gotta think of something else.”

You furrow your brow in thought,

“Wait, come with me; I think I have an idea.” You smile, grabbing his hand and pulling him down the hallway eagerly. The still pristine bedsheet flows behind the two of you.

In the back of your closet lies a clear plastic tub filled with old costumes and pieces from years past. You dig through the animal masks and wizard robes until you find what you are looking for. Your old Skeleton costume consists of an oversized black t-shirt and a pair of leggings; a realistic skeletal system print covers the entire thing.

“Would these work?” you ask, holding up the pieces for him to take. The costume was baggy on you, but the stretchy material means that it most likely could fit your much taller, much more beefy boyfriend.

His eyes light up when he sees the costume, and nods eagerly. “This will be great. I can actually play in these. He picks you up easily and spins you around the cramped closet space. “You’re so amazing Y/n. Where would I be without you?”

“ single and costumeless.” You giggle, returning his bear hug with as much strength as you can muster. “Wait, hang on,” you place your hands on his shoulders as you are hit with your second moment of brilliance that morning. “I think I have some face paint underneath the sink.”

After buying you a fresh tea to replace the one you hadn’t gotten to enjoy earlier, Kotaro insisted on dragging you to practice with him so you can see just how awesome his costume looks in comparison to his other teammates.

As the nosy little thing you are, it didn’t take much persuading to come with him. The scent of icy hot reaches your nose as the two of you pass the athletic training room where a few players are getting taped for today’s session.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna wear your shorts over the leggings? “You ask, noticing just how tight the leggings are on his muscled bottom.

“No, I don’t need it,” he says, looking down and giving his butt a playful little smack. “It would ruin the vibe of my Amazing costume.”

“I can’t argue with that,” you giggle as he dances towards the sound of volleyball. He certainly is the happiest volleyball-playing skeleton you’ve ever seen.

“Okay, babe, wish me luck.” Kotaro grins, stopping just outside the gymnasium doors, leaning in towards you with his now skeletal-painted lips puckered.

You place your hand on his chest and push him back lightly, “Wait, you don’t want to mess up your face paint. You say quickly, noticing the puppy dog eyes he is giving you.

“I don’t care about that if it means I don’t get a kiss,” he says with a pout, crossing his arms in usual Bokuto fashion. He is already leaning in for your kiss. He knows just how effective his pouty face is on you.

“Good luck,” you smile, leaning in on your tiptoes to give him a kiss.

He is so happy he practically skips into the gym, pushing open the doors and waving to you one more time before he goes to work.

Now alone, you turn away from the sound of squeaking shoes and spikes to walk up the steps to the upper bleachers, where certain spectators are allowed to watch without distracting the players.

You are now looking over the whole court and see the dozens of players scattered around as practice begins. Costume-wise, it looks like the majority of the players are wearing masks of some sort, making it hard to tell who is who. But eventually, you do see familiar faces.

The blond head of Atsumu Miya grabs your attention as he takes his place by the net, a long, flowing red and black vampire cape tied behind his neck. And judging by how muffled his on-the-court communication is, he must be wearing some of those cheap vampire fangs as well.

Shoyo Hinata Is wearing all black with a large pair of black feathered wings tethered to his back with little elastic strings. They flap clumsily as they fail to keep up with the redhead’s speed as he runs about the court with boundless energy.

The Third Person you are able to make out is Sakusa Kiyoomi, a true master of disguise. He is wearing his normal practice clothes and really looks like he’d rather be anywhere else. The only thing out of place on his clean frame is the hastily stuck red and white name tag that sits crookedly on his chest.

With those great options to compete with, you can safely say that Bokuto’s costume is by far the best. You watch as the team tries to play. Atsumu keeps tripping over his cape when he jumps, and Little feathers from Hinata’s wings keep littering the court as he bounds around, and the other players keep having to take off their rubber monster masks to breathe and truly look miserable. It keeps you thoroughly entertained throughout the training session.

In between sets in their practice scrimmage, Bokuto and a few others end up by your bench, and you’re able to hear a little bit of your boyfriend’s not-so-quiet conversation.

“Omi, do you like my faceeee?” He gushes, pointing to his slightly sweaty face paint. “Y/n did it this morning; Arent they sooooo amazing.”

His honest declarations of his love for you are one of the many reasons why you love him. He effortlessly brings a smile to your lips as he continues to show off his painted face. The design really wasn’t that difficult to make. You just looked up a quick tutorial of how to do it online earlier and were able to copy it fairly well.

“No fair,” Hinata whines, coming over to look at the carefully painted design you made. He looks up at you and waves with a big grin. “Hey Y/n, can you paint my face next year too?”

“I guess I can,” you call back to him. “I’m not a professional or anything so I~”

“Helloooo? Your boyfriends jealousy interrupts, waving his hand in front of the shorter man’s face, “They’re mine, getting my face painted by them is a Boyfriend perk.”

“Oh shoot, is that a thing?” The ginger responds with wide eyes as the two of them finish their water break and jog back onto the court.

“Watch me, Babe,” he calls, trying to shoot you a wink as he takes his place by the net. The ball is set, and you watch as Bokuto begins his approach; the ball is set high over the net as the owl-haired man leaps for it. Soaring high above the double block in his way, he brings his hand down onto the poor volleyball with a frightening force. The ball hits the ground and bounces off in the opposite direction.

But Bokuto’s kill is robbed of any kind of celebration because the minute his powerful legs land on solid ground, the impact causes those little skeleton-printed leggings of yours to rippppp right down the middle, revealing two things to you and the rest of the gym as a deafening silence falls all around you.

One, Kotaro Bokuto was not wearing any underwear underneath your now-ruined leggings.

And Two, his muscular ass cheeks.

He feels the breeziness down below and looks at you with wide eyes, clearly too stunned to speak, or move, or cover up.

You are in the same boat as him as your jaw hits the floor and your eyes go right to the rip.

As you are captivated by the scene in front of you, no one else says a word. Some are too fixated on Kotaro’s bare ass cheeks that seem to shine under the fluorescent lights of the stadium, and others are wondering where the hell the volleyball he spiked went off to

A player in a rubbery haunted pumpkin mask steps forward, his footsteps echoing across the silent gymnasium, breaking the silence. His hand flies up to take off the mask, revealing a head of slicked-back black hair.

Captain Shūgo Meian sighs, Looking completely done as he tosses your poor boyfriend a towel to cover the rip as he speaks. “Bokuto, while this situation is uhhh… unfortunate. It is still not nearly as bad as what happened last year.”

Tagging: @eussstasss @enchantedforest-network

#haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #bokuto x reader #x reader #flufftober 2023 #bokuto kotaro x reader #kotaro bokuto x reader #haikyuu!!#bokuto kotaro #msby bokuto #haikyuu #haikyuu fluff

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scenetocause · 1 month

Note

Prompt: Lando in lingerie because you put that idea into the world in climb up to your lips and I would very much love to read it ❤️

girloscar-verse drabble under the cut; fairly far into the future but before they get married (and getting very meta! because that's what tumblr is for lol)

Oscar says it's only fair she gets to pick stuff out for him, since he bought her some. And anyway, she arguably knows more about it than he does, which Lando reckons is actually by a very fine margin, if it's true at all but won't argue with her about it.

It's nice, the idea she's going to dress him up. He liked buying her gala dress, it's kind of the same thing.

She leaves the bag in the middle of their bed and it takes him a nervous ten minutes to actually open it, like he thinks some posh knickers might bite him. He's giggling by the time he tips the contents out onto the duvet, not because it's funny but because it kind of is? Here's a millionaire Formula 1 driver getting all anxious about what silky, lacy things his girlfriend wants to dress him in.

It's not that it's a surprise that Oscar's picked things he like because she does know him pretty horrifyingly well. But it's still nice that she has, makes him have to curl up on top of the duvet for a minute, lingerie scrumpled in his hands, to feel how good it is being loved by her.

It's a nice, soft, cream colour that he's got a few tracksuits in. The sort of comfy stuff he wears to snooze next to her on flights, nose buried in Oscar's shoulder. It's a good, clean colour that goes well with his skin and contrasts sharply to his tendency for dark grey boxers, something special but still somewhere in his comfort zone.

Getting his own clothes off feels a bit mad, having to stuff them in the laundry basket because he doesn't feel like a discarded hoodie and socks is the right vibe for when Oscar comes in and sees him trying to be sexy or whatever.

There's not just pants and whatever. He's not one hundred percent surprised by this because it's sort of an inside joke that he's always trying to trick Oscar into keeping her socks on in bed. Sorry if he wants to be reminded of her riding him every time she crosses one leg over the knee of the other in debrief or whatever.

He likes long socks anyway, for golf and that sort of thing so the fact these come up over his knees isn't that alien. They're a nice, soft material, like a very fluffy cotton or almost like the cashmere cardigans he steals off Oscar to bundle up on the couch in. Not really like stockings, grooved and topped with elastic almost like Oscar's beloved trainer socks but definitely a lot fancier, sitting low on his thighs.

The next thing he unravels is a soft top, not exactly a bra so it won't flag up the fact he's not got actual tits but gently cut so it cups his pecs, plunging between them. Lewis or Yuki would probably wear it to the paddock, maybe Lando'll give it a go for Monaco this year.

It's short, not covering his waist and abs and he's suddenly very aware there's nothing over his dick. Has to scrabble to pull on the knickers, which he'd sort of assumed would be boy shorts or something but instead it's a thong-thong, in the same, soft fabric as the top.

He squeaks involuntarily when it goes up his arse because what the fuck. Oscar wears this sort of thing quite often, these days, when they're not at work and she must be really committed to sending him insane because that's a wholly weird sensation, fabric brushing up against places normally only touched by Oscar.

Checking himself out in the mirror, though, he does look cute. There's some vaguely shocking tan lines around where his shorts were during their week on Pulau Joyo but they fit well enough with the pale lingerie. It's not too frilly, doesn't look like he's wearing something he shouldn't be - he could halfway imagine it being for a photoshoot or something, if Sophie would ever be likely to sign off on him having his arse out.

It takes him a minute to work up the courage to stick his head around the door, call out for her.

Oscar appears very quickly, like she'd been hovering nearby and a bit nervous herself about whether he'd like it. "Can I see?"

He has to laugh because, like, obviously. Lando didn't put this on so she can not fuck him in it but also Oscar looks so genuinely worried and excited. Like she thinks he's going to say no or call her taste in underwear shit or something and even though he is feeling quite shy about it, it makes him step around the door to comfort her.

Oscar almost immediately has him up against it, pressing Lando back on the solid wood and lifting his knee to run her hand up the left sock, feel where it stops and leaves his thigh feeling more naked than when he's totally undressed.

"Oh my god." She kisses him, gentle, lets Lando climb on her a bit with his arms over her shoulders. "You're so cute. So pretty. Fuck."

It's easy to tuck his face into Oscar's neck and breathe her skin in, the reassuring eucalyptus still clinging to her from last night. He'd thought she'd want to perv on him a bit or whatever, the way he does with her when she's wearing nice stuff but Oscar seems more intent on feeling him up, pressing her fingers to the tender place behind his balls where the thong's soft against his skin and tracing the seam of his arse, over where it's just hiding his hole.

"Oscar." He bites at her collarbone, where she's usually chewing him, just to tell her he loves her.

"Do you like it?" She pulls back enough to look him in the eye, tucking one of his curls back with her index finger as she does it, nail trailing gently down his face afterwards.

There hadn't been really time for him to figure that out, yet. But yes. "Yeah. You chose - you know, I can tell it's for me. And it's nice, the fabric."

"Comfy." She moves her hand further down his neck, rubbing over his chest to where the top's resting on his pecs. "I thought you wouldn't like - you know, anything with straps and wires."

Definitely not. That sounds like a deeply unpleasant sensory experience, fairly horrible even the times he was trying to take anything complicated off his ex.

Oscar kisses him again, sliding her hand up the leg he's got propped on her hip until she's cupping his dick, makes them both make a curious noise that he's still soft.

"It's not - I do think it's sexy? And you're - I love this. I don't know." Normally his problem is the opposite, that he's at half-chub pretty much any time he's in the same room as Oscar.

"It doesn't have to be a sex thing, though." She coaxes his other leg up, until she can get her hands underneath and pick him up, carry them over to the couch. "You can just look pretty, if you want?"

Maybe. It's hard to explain what's going on in his head and Oscar is normally the translator for that but she's not psychic, here.

"I think I just." He curls round, onto her, lets her do the koala thing. It feels safer, less wrongfooted by their mutual nervousness earlier, like this. "Can we watch some more of that show?"

Oscar makes a surprised noise, probably because it's her series and Lando just naps on her or fucks about on his phone during it. But that sounds nice, now. Just being them, in a slightly new configuration.

"True Detective? Sure." She gives him a squeeze before she gets up to find the remote, pottters around the apartment for a minute to get him his phone and both of them bottles of water.

When they're under the biggest, softest sofa blanket - nearly the same pale cream as Lando's underwear, a huge mistake for somewhere they eat half the time - he asks her to explain the plot to him again because nothing makes Oscar happier and he loves listening to her.

Half-asleep against her shoulder, he realises the story she's telling him stopped being about detectives awhile ago and is about a really hot boy whose girlfriend can't believe he's real.

He pokes Oscar in the chin. "Oi, I am actually listening. They should do a season from her perspective."

#emptyhalf fic

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