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gyuswhore · 5 months

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Fifteen to Forever

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

PAIRING: hockeyplayer!choi seungcheol x f!reader

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

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

WORD COUNT: 6k

masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Prodigy,” Jiwoo corrects.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, sure, uh, I’ll see you around.”

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

“Wait!”

You turn around at his voice.

“I never got your name.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Slowly, but surely, he nods.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He let a couple tears slip.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, he’s here with me,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Marry me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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thoughtroomba02 · 3 months

Text

TS Film Thoughts Masterpost

As promised.

Let's start things off -

Breaking News - Headlines about the film

Dec 9 2022 - her film contract makes headlines

From what I can find, this is the first that anyone knows she is producing a film. There are no details released other than it's a script she wrote and she will be directing the film.

The next we hear is Dec 7, 2023 from the Tennessean --

It's been crickets, essentially. There are no public details I can find about the film anywhere including cast list, release date, content, ETC.

Interestingly, two days ago -- though uncertain of validity of source -

I don't have access to puck so cannot confirm what the article says; but this was recent! So; in theory, she finishes her Eras tour and moves directly in to film.

More on how Disney+ ties in our next section...

Who is Searchlight Pictures?

Created April 29, 1994 - formerly known as Fox Searchlight/under 20th/21st Century Fox

Biggest success: Slumdog Millionaire 187 Academy Ward Nominations with 46 wins; 5 Best Picture since 2009 117 Golden Globe Nominations; 51 wins 66 Screen Actors Guild Award Nominations; 55 wins 137 Independent Spirit Awards, 54 Wins

Other Notable Films: 12 Years A Slave; Black Swan; Napoleon Dynamite;

20th century fox, prior to the creation of Searchlight, was prominent in the specialty and independent films market in the 1990s; it carried this interest into Searchlight, at least initially.

In 2012, it was incorporated into Murdoch's 21st Century Fox. Barf.

On Dec 14, 2017 Disney put their first bid out on 21st Century Fox/Fox Searchlight. On March 19, 2019 the companies merged and Disney acquired Fox Searchlight; Fox News notoriously split independently. Disney dropped the name Fox; so now we have just Searchlight Pictures. There is also a Searchlight Pictures TV and shorts production, which for the sake of time I will not get into.

For Funsies, here is a short film (Jun 18 2019, after Disney acquired) produced by them called....LAVENDER. About a gay man who has a relationship with a married gay couple. Can't make it up.

Anyway, since merging with Disney especially, the company seems to be LGBTQ friendly.

And yes, Joe Alwyn has worked with Searchlight, with tweets I found dating back to 2018 with Searchlight UK. Make of that what you would like, I have no real objective commentary on the matter.

Taylor as a Director

She also directed the Long Pond Studio Sessions and Miss Americana.

Most of her directorial work has been since the Lover debut. Most of which is very queer coded/sapphic.. and again, make of that what you will.

Appearances/Pap Walks, ETC

Since her split from JA, we have seen her with multiple friends in the film industry. Among these: Ryan Reynolds, Blake Lively, Selena Gomez, Keleigh Teller, Miles Teller, Sophie Turner, Emma Stone...

And dare I say.... Travis Kelce, who seems to want to break his way into the entertainment industry?

(aside from this headline; his failed dating show, his podcast, his multiple PR deals like with ZenWater... etc. I rest my case).

We also know there has been some B roll footage taken at the Chiefs Games.

Additionally, the media coverage of this relationship has been an absolute f*cking circus; with constant headlines of the two and their "engagement" / relationship dynamics. On Taylor's end, we have had constant references to Bejeweled (where she Ghosts); including Keleigh Teller giving her the opal ring.

The Speculation

Yall, this is my opinion - you can agree, disagree, etc; but I have no insider information. Just thoughts.

She makes her film directorial debut with Searchlight - recently acquired by Disney, who is pro-LGBTQ; and is clearly in deep with business deals with them, as seen on Taylor Nation and her Eras Tour Film.

We have rumors of her beginning her film production at the end of the ERAS tour, along with knowledge of her currently with B roll footage from chiefs games. We have multiple highly papp'ed appearances with her + TK; but also with multiple film stars, including Blake Lively (still not over that photo), Sophie Turner (I do think there's altruism here tbh on TS's end), and Keleigh. If you believe Keleigh is her stand in invisible bride.... Holy shit. Between the opal ring shutdown of the media circus as well as her and TS literally taking a page out of TSHOEH and dressing in character...

My ultimate suspicion is that she's using actual experiences of her current life-highly papp'ed - to tell her story. And that Keleigh is her stand in muse in this film.

I also think the @spade-riddles we've been getting about a final act ending, etc, pertain to her film. I don't have evidence aside from speculation.

I rest my case. Enjoy this post and make of it what you will.

#gaylor #kaylor #lgbetty

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passengerpigeons · 6 months

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yeah so hockey is basically a reënactment of the birth of the universe from Chaos. have you ever compared the hockey players making mathematically beautiful arcs with those pictures of particle colliders? they play out the drama of entropy and creation. yeah and the puck is the divine ova. that's why the goalie roughs up the area by the goal as if he were a bird establishing her nest. to accept the world-egg. like nyx, or the sea-duck in the kalevala. so it's also kinda like a hermetic fertility rite you know.

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behoright · 1 year

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holy l b. burns (+ canes)

i could make it for you / cause you're so beautiful

summary: burnzie teaches the boys how to treat a woman by his standards.

wordcount: 5.1k

song: holy - king princess

warnings: this is absolutely depraved. 18+ only, minors dni. smut, smut, smut. BDSM, dd/lg relationship, voyeurism, cuckolding. lots of dirty talk and baby talk.

a/n: I… don’t know what came over me. Nobody asked for this, yet here it is. sorry. please let me know what you think !! also more love countdown coming before the end of the week. this is barely edited oops. also. this is a work of FICTION. it has absolutely nothing to do with anyone’s real, personal, private life. this is just a story: an idea, a creation of imagination, something we fantasize about. nothing more, nothing less.

𓏸 ₊ 📹 ⋆ ݂𓏸 ₊ 📹 ⋆ ݂

“Dude, is that the same chick that Jarvy hit the other night?”

“Wait, what?”

All the boys’ heads turned to gather around Martin, whose eyes were currently stuck on his phone.

It wasn’t unusual for the team to split into younger and older guys after morning skate. They all scattered at the rink, going through the steps of their own routines.

“That’s totally her.”

“Let me see.”

“KK fucked the same girl as Jarvy!” Martin screeched to Andrei, who was already giggling.

Jesperi and Seth looked at each other, right before fist bumping. It was easier for them to have these conversations away from the more senior members of the team, let alone any coaches or managers.

“She was good, huh? Too bad her face looked like that!” the comment from Jarvy caused the rest of them to go into hysterics.

“Oh man, I had to turn her around immediately. How are you going to fuck athletes and still look like that?”. Everyone laughed, as they kept chatting. Just locker room talk, no harm in that.

Burnzie, however, couldn’t help but overhear their conversation, as he stood here, incredulous. He tried to not let it get to him, but some of the comments completely crossed the line.

“You guys are so fucking pathetic.” he said. His voice was loud enough that it constantly stopped everyone in their tracks - all of their younger guys dropped silently and turned to face him.

“Oh, c'mon Burns, you know what we mean.”

“Yeah, I remember those days. You think you’re such tough shit, huh? You’ve been fucking for, maybe 4-5 years but think you know it all. Meanwhile, all those girls you’re running through go home and finish on their own because you pump and dump them. At the end of the night, you’re both left with nothing. An empty, meaningless transaction.”

They all stared at their older teammate with their jaws on the floor, absolutely speechless. They held each other accountable, but none of them had been called out this harshly in a while.

“Oh, you think you’ve got it so much better because you’re old, huh?” Jalen tried to hit back, awkwardly chuckling.

“Trust me, I know how good I’ve got it. I know what I’m doing.”

“Dude, what are you even talking about?” KK chimed in.

Burnzie picked up his bag and turned towards them before heading out.

“If you’re really curious, come to the ranch on Friday. There’s no game, but stop by at night. Actually, think about it, and if you want, text me. I’ll let you know the details. Perhaps you’ll see and learn something that doesn’t involve a puck.” he said, tranquil, before heading out.

⊹ㅤִ ໋⊹ㅤִ ໋

All they got was an address, a time, and a set of rules for the day. It was sent as a group text to them, so they all assumed they weren’t going to be alone. As they all individually pulled up, they recognized each other’s cars. Brent had a huge property, and his house was on the outskirts. It looked almost like a manor.

“Do you know what we’re even going to do?”

“No clue. But curiosity is getting the best of me.”

“Me too. That’s the only reason why I’m here.”

They were greeted at the door by a maid, who lead them through the house. No questions were asked - they were certainly being expected. Once reached a door at the end of the corridor, she took their phones, locked them away in a box next to the entrance, and left. They all looked at each other before Jarvy was brave enough to open the door.

The guys walked into a dark room.

It was relatively small but had an otherworldly feel that none had ever experienced before. Andrei ran his hand against the black textured wall as he looked around. Huh. Soundproof. The only objects in the room were 12 chairs, all black, neatly separated, all facing a sort of window. The boys all approached it. The glass looked tinted, but they could distinctly see through it. They could see a room, with a king-sized bed, red and black sheets perfectly tucked into the mattress. A black dresser stood against maroon painted walls. A mirror enveloped the ceiling, except for a small chandelier that dimly illuminated the room, most of the light coming from the two bedside lamps sitting on the nightstands. The floor, was a dark mahogany, partially covered by a creamy fur rug that sat in front of a lit fireplace. Last but not least, in the corner of the room closest to them, a velvet futon. On the wall opposite from them, only a door stood, tightly shut.

Neci leaned closer, placing his palms on the glass.

“This looks like one of those windows from Law and Order. You know, the ones where they can’t see you but you can see them?”

All the boys looked at each other - it’s what would have made the most sense. Most of them failed to see the outline of a door in one of the walls that surrounded them until KK pointed it out.

“Should we open it?”

“No.” Andrei said, sternly. “He stated in the text to not touch anything unless specified.”. “Man, what did we get ourselves into?”

“A show, boys.” Andrei added, nodding at the door in the bedroom opening.

Heart beating, they all took a seat.

Burnzie entered, wearing a suit. All of the guys were very used to seeing him, in his over-the-top, almost ridiculous, custom-made suits. But this one was different. He had on a simple black suit, neck framed by a dark gray tie. They had never seen him with his hair slicked back, or with the trim on his beard that he was sporting tonight.

Their teammate placed his hands on his hips, standing in front of the fire. Slowly, he took off his shoes, tie, and belt, and set them on top of the dresser. As he unbuckled his cufflinks, he finally looked up at the window, giving a small nod. The boys had been acknowledged.

“I’m not sure who’s here and who’s not.” he started. “I hope you guys remembered the rules. The maximum number of you in there should be 12. No women allowed. No one from outside of the team, not today at least. “ he sighed, placing the links on a small tray that sat on the right nightstand, the one closest to the viewers.

“You are all free to leave at any point tonight, from the same door where you came in. Once we are done, that’s where I expect you to exit. If you linger on any point of the property, be aware that I will know.” he continued, rolling up the sleeves of his white dress shirt, and looking directly at them.

“We are not able to see you from here. You can obviously tell by now that you can see every single corner of this room. Additionally, we cannot hear you either. Do with that information as you will. If I require participation, I will ask. That is the only time when you can touch that small door to your left, where you will come in here with us. Do not touch it unless I ask you to. Do not do anything in there that my staff will not be able to clean up. And most importantly, do not take any pictures or videos. Do not talk about this with anyone else. I have all of your phones, counted and safe with me, and they will be given back at your exit.”

Burnzie was now standing directly in front of the window. Somehow, the boys felt as if he could really see them.

“Do not disappoint me, boys. This is a rare chance you are getting tonight.”

He looked down and headed towards the door in the bedroom, adding before disappearing behind it:

“Watch and learn.”

All of the guys looked at each other. A mix of nerves, tentativeness, and excitement filled the room. Neci sat in the front row, palms rubbing together, while Dylan shook his back from the row behind him. The two young Russian players, Andrei and Pyotr, found a place right in the middle, next to Martin, and were raising their eyebrows at each other. Collectively nervous, some showing more than others. The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

Moments later, Brent walked in, accompanied by a young girl.

You.

“Holy shit, this is really happening.” Teuvo whispered from the back row.

They all leaned forward in their seats to study your face. To their surprise, as their older teammate moved from view, they saw you were blindfolded, with absolutely no clothes on.

Brent guided you to the edge of the bed. You could feel his presence standing in front of you.

“Do you know where we are, little one?” he asked.

“Um, in the room. The room.” you said, clammy hands placed on your lap.

“That's right. How did you know?”

“The crackling of the fire. It sounds different in a room with no windows. I could feel the wood floor when we came in, too” you added.

“Good job, baby. So attentive, aren’t you?” he coaxed, running a hand down your hair. He had gotten closer, heat emerging off of his frame towering over you.

You bit your lip and nodded slowly, his tone already making a puddle form on the sheets under your naked body.

Brent’s hands moved along behind your head, your senses firing extra due to the blindfold. You felt his fingers untie the knot and saw him coming into vision, eyelashes batting at him as soon as you were freed. Brent kissed your forehead and kneeled in front of you, taking his lips to your right ear.

“Do you remember why tonight is special, baby? Why is tonight a little different than usual?” he whispered. Your head snapped towards the dark glass placed on the wall to your left, heart beating faster already.

“Yeah, we have some viewers today. That’s still okay, baby?” he asked, tilting your chin back at him. You nodded, doing your best at hiding the trembling in your body.

“I need to hear you say it. We don’t have to if you don't want to, doll.” he said, unsmiling.

“I want to.”

Brent stood up in front of you once again, beginning to undo his dress shirt.

“Can you remind me of our color system, little one?” he proceeded, voice stronger than before. It must have been for whoever was watching.

“Yes, um, r-”

“Louder, baby.”

“Uh, red, yellow, and green. Stop, slow down, and go.” you gulped, raising your voice shily.

“You’re so good, love. Very good.” he said, caressing your cheek with his knuckles, now shirtless. Brent walked over to the left side of the bed, facing the window, and sat down.

“C’mere.”

You waltzed over to him, where he turned you around and sat you on his lap, facing his same direction. The idea of someone sitting behind there, watching you, was incredibly nerve-racking, and you knew Brent could sense this. He knew you inside and out.

“They’re watching, yeah. Right there, right in front of us, look.” he said, beard tickling your shoulder as he spoke.

“My baby, come. Don’t worry.” he whispered when he turned you around, his lips suddenly colliding with yours. Brent grabbed the sides of your face, intertwined his fingers in your hair, and split open your mouth with his tongue. The contact and dance you were having in your mouth seemed to ease your jitters.

“They’re so lucky to see Daddy treat you like this, right?” he asked, pulling away for a split second, before attacking your mouth once again. “Yeah? So lucky, right?” he questioned you, in between sloppy kisses. You nodded your head as he overtook you completely, swapping spit with you.

“We’re going to teach them a thing or two today, okay?”. Brent looked deeply into your eyes. As much as you contractually, verbally, and constantly gave consent, he had never, not once, stopped looking for it in you.

“Okay.” you whispered, joining your lips again with him.

Brent took the chance to pick you up, not breaking your kiss, and moved over to the corner of the bed. You were now at the closest point to the window, where they could see you and him perfectly. They had a chance to see most angles, light reflecting perfectly off of you.

Brent’s hands moved over to your thighs, easily splitting them apart and sitting you on his legs, face to face with him.

“You sit on my thighs so well for me, baby. Grind on them.” he said, as you uncertainly started moving your hips, peering over to the window. You knew that you couldn’t see who was there, but you were simply not able to shake the feeling off of you.

“Keep staring at me, baby. Only me.” he turned your face back to his with a slight tuck at your cheek.

“I want you to kiss Daddy’s cheeks as you grind on me, baby. I know you like it, c'mon.” he said, placing his hands on your hips. “C’mon my love, my princess.”

The coaxing always got you going, starting to grind your hips a little faster while kissing his face.

“Good girl. Focus on me, little one, c’mon.”. The friction of his suit pants against your bare cunt was starting to feel incredibly delightful, inching your body closer to his as you moved faster. One of Brent’s hands quickly came up and spanked your ass, pulling a moan out of you, which just invited him to smack you twice more. The more he encouraged you, the harder he spanked you, and the whinier your moans were becoming.

“Shh, shh, that’s a good girl, right there. I know it’s sensitive, little one, I know. You’re doing so well for me.” he said, calloused hand spanking your sore spot once more. “Do you see what you do to me? Do you see my cock growing for you?”

You could only moan. You had just started and already felt like falling apart right in front of him.

Meanwhile, things were getting a bit stuffier in the viewing room. The boys were no longer looking or interacting with each other, eyes peeled on the couple in front of them. Even the cockiest of them, the ones that had talked themselves up the most, had fallen silent, faces completely flushed. Many of them felt grateful that the chairs had been placed at a distance from each other, giving them more private space. They were incredibly close and comfortable with each other normally, having spent a lot of time changing and naked; they were able to play and joke around it usually, with no awkwardness found there. But this was wholly different. Pyotr adjusted his hat and leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees, as many of them were already.

“Ебена мать…”

“Do you want to touch it, baby?” Brent asked, looking at you, vigorously rubbing yourself on him.

“Yes, please.”

“Do you see how good you make me feel, doll? Can you feel it, in your little hands?”

“Do my thighs make you feel good too? My pants are soaked already, angel. Do my big thighs make you quiver and moan? You look so little when you sit on me like this, pretty girl. Does that turn you on?” Brent’s words felt like lightning shooting down your nervous system.

“Yes, god, yes.” you huffed, placing your forehead on his tattooed shoulder.

“Uh-uh, baby, focus on me. There you go, look up at me. Are you falling apart for me, already, my little flower?”

Only moans came out as a response. Your breath was so shallow that you could think of no words. None.

“Not yet, baby, slow down. Shh, shh. Relax, my little girl, calm down.” he tightened his grip on your hips, changing the pace.

“Make my thighs wetter, baby. Stay on my face, princess. I know, I know, baby, I bet it feels really good.”

You looked deeply into his gaze, dark and lusting for you, and took a deep breath.

“Look at that, look how good you’re being. You do exactly what Daddy tells you, don’t you?”

“I do, Daddy.”

“Tell them. Say it out loud, tell them.”

“I-, I do whatever Daddy tells me.” you choked out in between whimpers, face burning red.

“And why is that, baby?”

“Because I trust you, Daddy.” you said, gaze shooting up at him.

“Good girl, baby, good girl. You know Daddy will take care of you. Stick out your tongue, angel.”

You did as told, your connection somehow reinforced after that exchange.

Brent gave you a small smirk, and wiped his tongue against yours, feverishly, before wrapping it up in his mouth.

“Faster, now baby, faster. Show me how good I can make you feel.” Brent said, before attaching his lips to your neck, leaving the other side exposed for the guys to see. You picked up the pace again, the little break he gave you before just aiding to you edging, on the brink of falling apart.

“Spread your legs, my dirty girl. Let me play with you.” he said, lips still touching the side of your neck.

You took more deep breaths as you tried to keep it together. When you moved, you could see the wet patch left on his pants. He helped you move, legs shaking, and set up enough pillows at the end of the bed to prop you up, your wet cunt open wide and showing to all the guys behind the glass.

“Lay down, princess. Right there, just like that.” Brent bent down in front of the bed, face dangerously close to your pussy.

“Oh, you’re such a mess. So pretty for us, baby.” His fingers dipped inside you just before circling your clit, causing your head to fall back into the mountain of pillows. It was hard to hold it together, unable to stop shaking or keep your knees from collapsing in. Brent stood up, thrusting his fingers deep inside you.

“Can you hold it in for me, baby? You’re not getting too ahead of yourself, are you?”

“A little.”

“Let’s slow down, maybe, flower. Open your mouth for me. Show me your tongue again.” Brent’s soaked fingers grabbed your chin sternly, right before spitting on your tongue twice.

He proceeded to dip his other hand right in your mouth, spreading his spit all over you.

“That’s so good, look at you. Let’s keep going, little one.” As he pulled his fingers out of your mouth, a trail of saliva fell from his digits and left a string on your body; his hand was back inside you as soon as it was gone, eliciting more and more moans from you.

“God, he really wasn’t kidding.” Dylan whispered in the room, all eyes still diligently stuck on the couple on the bed.

“...Yeah.”. They did their best to hide how tight their pants were all getting but to no avail. It didn’t matter anyways - they had all signed up for this, and were all free to leave. Nonetheless, no one dared to move a muscle, too transfixed with the scene unfolding before them.

“Look at her pussy. Don’t stare at her face. Do whatever I tell you.” Brent’s voice changed from sweet to demanding, as he turned his head towards the glass to instruct the guys, who all followed commands, unknowingly to you, too blissed out to even worry.

His movements became quicker and more precise, knowing exactly where to touch you to make sure you twitched and squirmed.

“That’s right. You do so well by Daddy. I’m going to go faster now, baby. C’mon. I know, baby, I know, I know. Show them, my love. Show them how good my thick fingers make you feel. You’re so tiny I could just fuck you like this, my hands fill you up so well. Yeah?”

“Look at her, look at her, boys. You see how good I’m making her feel? Print that in your fucking heads and try to do the same when you touch a girl. Every time you see anyone from now on, you’ll think about this, this right here, and how good I can make her feel, just come apart in my hands.”

“She’s fucking trembling.”

“I know.”

“Jesus.” they all cursed.

“Give it to me, baby, c’mon, princess. Yeah, that’s right. Like that, like that, oh, fuck.” You grabbed Brent’s shoulders as you shuddered, orgasm rippling through you while he tried to coax you through it, watching you closely from above you.

“Good job, baby, good job. You are so gorgeous, baby. You’re so sweet, so kind, so pretty. There you go, pretty baby.” he said, slowing down and rubbing your folds while you came down from your peak. “Do you need some water? Yeah?” he asked, placing a kiss on your forehead, his hand gently tapping your pussy.

“She wants water. Get her some. One person only. And do it fucking quickly.”

The guys all scrambled, sitting up and looking at each other since they first walked in. They had never seen each other in this state, sweaty and bodies flushed and swollen, ready for sex. There was absolutely no water in there. There was nothing. Neci, the closest to the exit, quickly left and came back, a victorious look on his face with a water bottle in his hand. Until he realized he needed to go in. He turned and gulped at the black door separating them from the couple, laying in bed, staring at the glass in front of them. Pyotr swore at that moment that Burnzie had lied about not being able to see or hear them.

“I said fucking fast!” he raised his voice, leading Neci to swiftly turn the handle and walk into the room. As he came towards you, still heavy breathing and wide open in front of him, he thought he might fall or just cream his pants.

“Don’t fucking look at her. Look at her feet while you give me the water.”

Martin did as told, and even if feet did absolutely nothing for him, he started to understand what Burnzie had meant in the locker room. Everything about this was so goddamn erotic. After handing over the water, and hearing a tiny “thank you” from you, Martin walked back and shut the door behind him, finding his chair fast and keeping his cap low, hoping the rest of the group wouldn’t chirp him. No one said anything. They all knew that could have been them going in there soon. Some were hoping, truly, to participate.

Brent tilted the water bottle back while holding it up to your mouth, whispering reassuring sweet nothings in your ear as you quenched your thirst.

“Color, baby?”

“Green.”

“Lovely, my girl. Take Daddy’s pants off.”

You sat on your knees, working the button of Brent’s pants, while he looked at you, with the sweetest smile, until his erection sprang free. It wasn’t your first time seeing him, but it never failed to get a gasp out of it. Brent was a big man, and he was big and thick everywhere. As you leaned down to wrap your tongue around the tip of his cock, you felt a gentle tug at the back of your head.

“So sweet, my angel, but I want you already. Come rub yourself all over Daddy’s cock.” he said, sitting up back at the corner of the bed, legs confidently planted on the floor.

“How bad do you want it, flower? You’ve been so good, waiting for me. All of those guys, they can’t satisfy you like I do, isn’t that right?” he looked up at you, while you were spreading your soaking folds up and down his shaft.

“No one else can, Daddy.”

“What a pretty, good girl you are, baby girl. C’mere, take me, princess.” he said, immensely satisfied with your response, and guiding you all the way down his cock, until you were flush together at the hips.

“Oh, oh, my god.”

“I know, baby. You can take me though, right?”

You nodded, hastily, as you began to bounce on him. He was so big you felt like he was splitting you in two, in the best, most pleasurable way possible. All you could do is moan, moan and moan. And whimper, head fully tilted back, as a tear slid down your cheek.

“My angel, are you tearing up? That’s okay, relax, my love. I got you. What’s your color, princess?”

“Green, green. It’s just so…, big.”

“I know, I know. You can tear up, that’s alright. I’m right here, my dove.”

You bit your lip, hard, and looked back at his face. He was in heaven, and not afraid to show it.

“You feel so fucking good, flower. You feel so amazing, so snug around me. No one makes me feel like this, princess. God, fuck. Look at me.”

Your eyes connected once again, Brent looking for …something in you.

“Can you take a little more for me, my sweet girl?”

“Yes, yes.” you said, not stopping your movements.

“Slow down, yeah, like that. Milk Daddy very slowly.” he planted a kiss on your cheek, right before grabbing your face and uniting your tongues once again.

“I need one person here. Just one. And let it be a new one. Fast.” Brent raised his voice, facing the glass.

All his teammates looked at each other once again, yet this time, Andrei was the only one to stand up.

“Must be your turn, brother. Good luck.” Sebastian uttered, from the back row.

Andrei looked around, slightly panicked. It sure seemed like it was going to be him. He took a deep breath before opening the connecting door, moving fast in order not to aggravate Burnzie. He walked in and simply couldn’t help but stare at you, fully naked with your eyes rolled back, grinding and bouncing steadily on his older teammate.

“Don’t you dare fucking look. Go over to the dresser.” Brent ordered.

The young Russian strode towards the dresser on the opposite end of the bedroom, eyes planted on his shoes.

“Middle drawer on the left. Tan rope. 1 ft. Bring it over.”

Andrei grabbed the rope out of the organized bunch, shut the drawer and walked back, heart beating out of his chest.

“Stand behind her. If you have to look, look at her feet. Hurry up.”

Andrei stood behind her, the only thing he could see apart from the bottom of your feet was his bulge, rock hard in his slacks.

“Can you do a double column tie?”

“Uh, no.”

“Fucking-, anyone else? You have 5 seconds to come out if you do.”

2,3,4,5. No one.

“Useless. Get close to her, I’ll tell you how to do it.” he said. “You keep grinding, my girl, you’re doing so well. Can you put your wrist behind your back for Daddy and his friend? Yeah? Good girl.”

Your small wrists appeared in Andrei’s field of vision, head diligently down. Andrei attempted at not getting distracted, but he was sure there were sweat beads emerging from his hairline. He followed all the instructions, which Brent made sure to explain as efficiently as possible.

“Fold it in half.”

“Now, turn it counterclockwise.”

“Put that piece over and under, and squeeze it. Make sure it’s not too tight, so we’re not hurting her.”

Before he realized it, her hands were securely bound behind her back. Andrei mentally patted himself on the back. He caught a glimpse of you, slowly crumbling on top of Brent. All of the guys could have walked in right now, and Andrei thought you would have not noticed nor cared. You were completely wrapped up in Brent.

“Can you be good, baby? Can you say, thank you, Andrei? For Daddy?”

Dazed and with your head resting on Brent’s shoulder, you moaned a thank you, which made Andrei’s knees buckle.

“Out of here now.”. Andrei walked back, shirt sticking to his back, into the room with the guys, who were all staring at him, jaws on the floor. Once again, no one said a word. Andrei honestly couldn’t wait to get to his car, but he was too curious to leave just yet.

“How does it feel, baby?” “Good. So good, yes.”

“You sound so amazing, my little dove. What’s my name, love? Tell them. Tell them.”

“Daddy. Your name’s Daddy.” you said, increasing your speed.

“Good girl, baby, good. You’ve been so good today I’m going to fill you up so nicely, flower.”

Brent’s calloused hands balanced you carefully as you kept fucking yourself on his cock, which was growing harder as the boys grew more impatient with every move.

“Squeeze, baby girl. Squeeze me tight. Cream all over me, fuck.” the air in both rooms was getting warmer, exponentially.

Your eyes locked for one last time before you crumbled all over him, juices running down Brent’s lap as you shook.

“See, boys? Look how beautiful. Shut up and listen to her, hear how incredible she feels. God, just looking at her is going to make me cum.” Brent fucked up into you and kept calling out for you as he shot his seed deep inside you, his big thighs tensing up under you. Little one, baby, angel, princess, love, flower… every single one rolling right off his tongue over and over, eyes fluttering.

The guys moved around more and more, uncomfortable in their chairs.

Brent quickly flipped you over, immediately untying your hands after you both caught your breath again. He held you tightly in his arms, rocking you back and forth, caressing your cheek, and placing kisses all over the marks on your wrists.

“You did so well. I’m so proud of you, angel. I’m always proud of you. My gorgeous princess.”

He kept going for a while, feeding you water, some candy from the nightstand, and enveloping your body fully. In the meantime, none of the guys could barely hold it together, all trying to see what was going to happen next, or waiting to speed home to have some private time.

“You guys are lucky I’m not making any of you come out here and lap up her juices. I’ll be nice today. Get the fuck out of here.” Brent said, lastly, before going back to paying full attention to you.

The chairs squeaked at how fast everyone sat up, exiting through the same door, retrieving their phones, and heading towards their cars, not one word was spoken. None of them could believe what had happened, what they had witnessed. There were no goodnights or goodbyes.

They all raced home, speeding into the night, a thousand memories already forming in their heads.

One thing they knew for sure. None of them were ever going to forget this night.

#brent burns #carolina hurricanes #smut #nhl imagine #nhl smut #nhl fic #nhl #andrei svechnikov #teuvo teräväinen #sebastian aho #seth jarvis #pyotr kochetkov #jesperi kotkaniemi #jalen chatfield #martin nečas #dylan coghlan #kikiwrites

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insomnia-arts · 8 months

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After cropping and fixing the lighting on these photos, I can finally show off my newest creation!

I made a Kurivolt plush purse for @autistpus's Yuma cosplay!

There are a few things I would change if I ever make a purse version again, but I love how cute he is!

He is fully lined with felt applique eyes, lightly stuffed vinyl feet and lightning bolt, a metallic stuffed tail, and actual metal studs! Puck's phone, folding headphones, and wallet all fit together inside, and I really wanna try making some more of these with other versions of Kuriboh!

#my art #ygo zexal #yugioh zexal #zexal #yuma tsukumo #yuuma tsukumo #kurivolt #kuriboh #plush #purse #plush purse #kawaii #kawaii core #cute #sewing #yugioh monster #duel monsters

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alovelyburn · 1 year

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Since people are looking at some of the posts I did linking to Kojion@twitter’s posting excerpts from Miura interviews, I’m just going to link them all below, because I don’t tag consistently.

First: About Griffith’s ambiguity, his feelings about Guts, the change in Miura’s approach to Griffith’s confidence as he progressed through the story.. Also, Guts’s feelings about Griffith, Casca, and Puck, and how Griffith’s influence may change Guts.

Second: On Griffith as the embodiment/representation of the Collective whereas Guts represents the individual.

Third: About the state of Guts and Casca as forever stuck at the stage before falling in love. This one is funny because there’s an official english translation for it in the back of the Berserk guidebook that translates it as the stage before a relationship but realtalk, that’s not what he said, he said before falling in love.

Fourth: Griffith’s difficult mental structure trapping him, his guilt issues, the pre-eclipse Casca marriage nightmare, and his being inspired to create Griffith by people he knew who were abused as children. Going into Tao themes as Berserk goes forward.

Fifth: About Apostles and how their state of mind is analogous to being in a constant state of rage. Also some commentary on the previous stuff.

Sixth: This is the one most people have seen. The Lost Chapter, the ending of Berserk, the possibility of a Skull Knight origins arc, the faces that appear on the ground during the eclipse, the nature of behelits/what they actually are, his perspective on the Eclipse in retrospect and the similarity between his own friendships/relationships and the events of the Golden Age. Also, the extent of Mori’s involvement in Berserk’s creation. How Miura wrote Casca’s personality and his general difficulty writing women. And some random stuff like how annoyed he was by people aping the Dragonslayer, whether Guts and Griffith will eventually fight (he doesn’t say) and how androgynous characters are bisexual to him, I guess.

Also relevant but not by Miura:

Susumu: About the difference in Berserk’s motif vs. Western fantasy stories and how it’s hard for people used to Western media to understand the series.

I do a fair amount of translation and commentary on translations in general, but those are the ones that came out during that Berserk Festival as Kojion declared it.

There’s some other stuff on my meta roundup post if you’re interested in like manga lines or older stuff that came out before all this.

#ariel talks about berserk #miura quotes

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puckevergreen · 2 years

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Henry Cowell State Park, California.

#puck's creations #nature #henry cowell #state park #forest #dipper #salem

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theleakypen · 1 year

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Let's make a Hermetic Mage!

#ars magica #character creation #tumblr polls #puck polls #order of hermes #ttrpgs

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animalcopingnewhorizons · 1 year

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Closeups from A Place to Literally Chill for Tutu + Puck.

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farmergilesofham · 1 year

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The Vanguard Swimsuit Calendar Fic, Part 3: Shaxx's Claymore

It was a very nice, bright morning in the Tower Courtyard. Little birds were singing in the trees, people were bustling not too hurriedly to and fro, and Lord Shaxx sat on a stool with his back to a stack of munitions crates, running a whetstone over his new Claymore.

Arcite was doing something on his datapad, emitting the slow drone of a Frame engaging their higher-processing systems. Most likely, it was the matter of recent Crucible donations, which had been flooded the past week due to Shaxx getting a bad cough and needing to call in the only person available at the time - Drifter. For some reason, that had brought people in droves, and the accounting was currently a nightmare because of this.

None of that mattered at the moment, however, as Shaxx sat in the early morning sun and continued sharpening the new blade.

It was a gift from the Dreaming City, sent on his rebirthday with a letter expressing thanks for the bow he had sent Mara Sov for Dawning the year before. A few trusted guardians assured him that the bow had actually seen some use, mostly by Petra Venj, who had given it her seal of approval. But this sword... it was a real beauty. Unlike the crystalline weaponry the other guardians in her direct employ had been bequeathed, the Queen had here sent out an agent to a place once known as "Damasc", to collect a special ore supposedly described in Golden Age material processing documents. Apparently, some of the finer swords in human history had been made there, so it served the Awoken Queen's needs to acquire the material for herself.

The effort still baffled the old Warlord. He had thought that having a bow specially-made and custom-fitted, engraved, and strengthened for field use had been perhaps a little more effort than a simple gift really required, but here he sat with the most breathtaking blade he had ever seen, made from materials once reserved for kings. Or Queens, as it were. Through a complicated process involving melting the ore down, adding just enough extra material, then repeatedly reheating and cooling the steel puck until it reached the desired consistency, the Awoken weaponsmiths had produced a sword whose straight blade looked like the sand at the bottom of a flowing riverbed, covered in delicate swirls of steel grain from tang to tip.

The crossguard was of the same material, threaded with gold and set with a ruby the size of Shaxx's thumb, blending naturally into a long leather-wrapped handle headed by a phoenix-shaped pommel, all with more gold and silver than he had ever seen on any one weapon other than the tacky nonsense Calus had kept foisting on The Guardian, only here the filigree was far more tactful. Elegant, even. Tiny ruby eyes glinting up at him in the early sun, Shaxx kept sharpening.

Unlike most guardians' swords, it was not heavy - the blade, seen from its side, could not be much thicker than a centimetre, if that. Light as a feather in his Titan hands, the sword remained rigid, flexing only a little when used. Some sort of Awoken magic had gone into its creation too, judging by the delicate runes scrawled - ever glowing - on the fuller of the blade. He lifted it now for a moment into the light, admiring the reflections on its surface before one particular mirrored form caused him to look to the side.

There, leaning against the wall, was the Guardian. Just smiling at him, soon splitting into an ear-to-ear grin.

"So, new sword, huh?"

Shaxx took his time replying. He couldn't seem startled, afterall - he had a reputation to keep up! Instead, he set the sword across his lap again and gave it a few more swipes with the stone, before wiping everything down with a dry cloth and standing up. The fact he towered over the Guardian didn't do much to help the giddiness of seeing them again today. It wasn't as if they'd been gone long - only about a week - but the Crucible Handler couldn't be happier to see them again. Although, something about that mischievous grin worried him.

"Ah, Guardian. Ready to see what the Crucible has for you next?"

"Ehhh, that can wait." The Guardian stepped closer. Arguably somewhat closer than was acceptable between folk who were ostensibly mere acquaintances, but with nowhere to step back, Shaxx definitely didn't mind.

"I actually wanted to ask you something, Shaxx~"

This was absolutely not the way to talk to a Tower higher-up, especially not with that breathy, sultry voice, nor the fact that the Guardian now stood so close to Shaxx that they were almost touching. All that said, it was a very happy coincidence that the new shipment of munitions crates formed a wall around the two lightbearers, shielding them from the view of all but Arcite, who was still busily typing away on the datapad.

"I was wondering... would you mind doing something for me?"

"Once more unto the breach."

"I-- what?"

"Don't worry about it. What would you like me to do, dear?"

The Guardian just looked at him for a few seconds, as it dawned on Shaxx what he had just said.

"I MEAN, er, what would you like me to help you with, Guardian?"

The ten-time God Slayer just smiled, placing a hand on Shaxx's chest. Undoubtedly against protocol, but Shaxx merely stood there slowly breathing, waiting for an answer. And he would wait until the mountains ground down to dust, if necessary. No more getting strung around like a donkey on a leash by this lightbearer.

It took him a moment to realise the Guardian had spoken, and suddenly he felt extremely grateful for the helmet on his head to hide the heat rising on his cheeks. A cooling fan whirred to life in the helmet, and Shaxx wanted to scream. The Guardian laughed, a clear note that rang across the Courtyard as they said:

"I asked, Shaxx, if you'd mind being in a swimsuit calendar for me. The Eliskni Quarter needs more funds, and this is a reasonably good way to fleece the other guardians for funds."

"Oh."

A second fan clicked to life, though Shaxx barely heard it. That first sentence kept reverberating in his head, ballooning out of all proportion. They wanted... what? It was about another minute before he realised that the Guardian had spoken again, the ghost of a laugh already dancing across their eyes and lips.

"If you're too nervous, that's alright. Wouldn't want my darling Crucible Handler getting too flustered around Saladin and Saint-14, hm?"

"Wait, you're convinced Saladin to do this??"

"Uh, yeah, my guy. You know how cool I am, and anyways he agreed pretty quick when I mentioned how it was all for charity."

Shaxx stood dumbfounded, marvelling at his Guardian. Convinced Saladin... to do this? How? so many questions bubbled up, but stamping them all out he instead said:

"If they're doing it, then I'm definitely going to. Mark my words, I will outpose every other person there!"

"Good. So it's settled then?"

"Yes, I'll do this for you. But you have to do something for me, now. It's only fair."

"Oh?"

Shaxx leaned in, and whispered something in the Guardian's ear. They giggled, giving his helmet a kiss, before stepping back to a more respectful distance. "Alright, darling. But we'll meet at the tea shop next door first, okay?"

"Absolutely. We'll need the sugar and caffeine. I've heard those films are terribly long."

"Ha! Yeah, that's alllll we'll be doing that night. Nothing else~"

The Guardian gave one last giddy wave before slinking away, probably to go bother somebody else. Shaxx stood where he was for a while, absently rubbing the spot on his helmet where he'd gotten kissed.

Arcite, meanwhile, had heard and watched the whole exchange, and was just sending out a system message proclaiming that the Crucible Handler would not be available for around 12 hours that week, on account of taking a short break.

---

It was a very good thing that Shaxx hadn't inquired further into the Saladin situation, as the Guardian's traipsing soon became a saunter, and then merely a walk. It was going to be a nightmare convincing Saladin to take part, but there was nothing else for it.

For now, however, it was time to go visit the next potential victim: Ada-1.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

End of chapter 3. I hope you enjoyed reading. I fear I may have gone a little too in-depth on the Nameless Sword lore, but I do love talking about swords.

Tune in next time to see how, if at all, the Guardian manages to somehow rope Ada into this mess. It may not be the way in which you expect :)

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