#athletic socks probably?

[monstrsball]

i am channeling sugawara koushi

[regallibellbright]

So, I mentioned previously that Fashion Dreamer represents a significant improvement in the men's fashion over syn Sophia's past games, even if it still seems to be a lower priority compared to the women's. (It is sounding like there are fewer items for them on the whole, and I would not be at all shocked to hear there are fewer items for specific fashion niches than those equivalent niches in the women's fashion, but it is still meaningfully more diverse than what it was before.)

I promised examples.

Unfortunately, I only have one really good screenshot from my own 3DS, because I tend to take pictures of dialogue rather than inviting random characters to pose with me, and of the ones where you can clearly see what a guy is wearing, it's usually a character who's intentionally dressed as a sort of dorky scientist at best, and at worst...

Well, the best picture I have ALSO includes Johann, so you get to see him!

For those not reading the alt text, I feel it's important you know that that jacket of Johann's has TAILS. Also big gold buttons, I didn't note those because they're not really visible at all, and pants with a very gaudy floral pattern. So yeah, he's an Eccentric and Tortured Musician, so he dresses Like That. It's clearly intentional and not representative of the average character in the game (though he also has a student who dresses basically like him, with basically the same Eccentric and Tortured bit, who we see in a side quest.)

Oliver, on the other hand, is pretty much representative of how men in this series dress. He's a model, and as you can see, his default outfit (I checked the Style Boutique wiki to confirm, this is it) is... uh, kind of bland. He's not alone.

(Shout outs to the Style Boutique Wiki, where I got these screenshots.) This is Ricky, shown in his default outfit. (While there technically IS a menswear section in Fashion Forward, it's an extra you can only access from the title screen to dress up NPCs, and very limited. In the summer he'll take that jacket off, but that's it.)

I believe at least one of these outfits of Florian's is user-designed - they're both from Trendsetters, which is the game I've played the least of the four. Either way, not suits! But still not particularly interesting. But okay, maybe it's just that this STYLE is on the bland side? Let's try some others!

(In order: Vincent, Melvin, Ethan Quinn, Jim.)

I swear I didn't go looking for characters who are exclusively wearing T-shirts except Ethan, I am a bit limited in what the wiki has here. But also... yeah. I think Jim might be supposed to be a fan of bold fashion, given the belt and the hair? But you wouldn't know it from looking at the plain black t-shirt. Vincent and Melvin are a bit better - Vincent helps run the live music venue that opens midway through the game, while Melvin is in fact a nerd who doesn't take that much interest in fashion and only shows up to support one of the three central idols of the game, who also happens to be his best friend. Is it unfair to include him, then? No. Because at least his outfit is actually indicative of his character!

(Daisuke, Chad - though I believe he's renamed Brad in the North American release, and MC Mode, two photos. Tarquin, at the bottom, is one of my own screenshots.)

The same hat situation here is a bit amusing, but they were designed for different games and it makes sense to reuse fashion items like that between games - it let them add onto the wardrobe as the series went on, so there were a lot more items with different silhouettes and such by Styling Star. For the women. I think at least a few of these characters got to gain and lose jackets depending on the in-game season, and MC Mode here is a fashionable guy who gets to wear TWO outfits.

And the chic look isn't too bad - both Mode and Ethan wear it, so as you can see, there's definitely some range. I think Vincent might get to wear a leather jacket during the in-game winter, but I couldn't commit to it; I can't remember off-hand if Daisuke loses his jacket in the summer, though I hope not.

But yeah. You'll notice looking at all of these that even the rocker's outfit is a t-shirt and jeans. There ARE slightly more interesting options - those jeans might be distressed, there ARE leather jackets, and there are some pants with excess belts among the men's, I think - but not nearly as much as the women's fashion in the punk rock style. Tarquin's "lab coat" is clearly a suit jacket, and while it makes some sense not to make an entire unique item for one character, this game didn't even have men's fashion. I'm pretty sure they just used an existing suit jacket from Trendsetters. On the other hand, at least THAT ONE is reflective of his character. Daisuke's outfit is the closest the games come to athletic wear until Fashion Dreamer.

The characters in the later two games in particular were REALLY fun. There's a reason why I didn't have many screenshots just showing a male character facing forward, and none without dialogue - I actually really enjoy the writing here. Ethan wants to conquer the world with music, and multiple characters comment that this makes him sound like a supervillain. Tarquin is an endearing nerd who has a bunch of cute comments about all the items you bring in to make fashion items from. Florian likes bad puns.

But their outfits don't really tell you much about their personalities, where the female characters all do.

[hoe4sports]

Nobody likes the angry girl

A note from the author: I saw a video that hit home. It was a tiktok about being told that “nobody likes the angry girl”. I was the angry girl as a child, and by now you probably know that this is a fic based off of my life. I am not enabling this kind of behaviour, but I’m trying to show you how it can feel to struggle with trauma. Traumas need constant work, love and attention.

If you are struggling with the same thing; you are not a monster. You will get there. It’s not your fault. I love you.

Credits: This is based off a tiktok that I saw, you can find it here. Courtesy of @young.Riley on TikTok.

Warning: Trauma, anger, anxiety

Summary: Your childhood has caused more damage than Alexia could ever believe.

⚠️If you feel easily triggered or overwhelmed, read with caution and take breaks. If you need to, please seek a mental health hotline.

—

“Nobody likes the angry girl”. That was a sentence that would be thrown after you as if it was a knife. Your mother would use it when you did something she didn’t like. Speaking up for yourself, telling her how you felt, wanting her love or being upset. She would describe you as angry if you weren’t a pleasure or the quiet girl.

Alexia however, she is patient with the angry girl. She understands the angry girl because she took her time to understand her. She asked the questions and listened to the stories. She knew what caused you to become the angry girl. How your mother’s words cut through your back causing scars in your heart. Alexia knew that the angry girl carried her heart outside her sleeve. She loved the angry girl with every cell in her body.

The Spanish heat was flowing in through the kitchen windows. You breathed in the air filling your lungs all the way up. Your body felt sweaty after working in the garden for a while. It was mid day, and you had gotten the week off. It was a nice change, your workplace had decided to work on their employees wellbeing giving all of your colleagues a week off. You see, that was the recipe for a perfect week. Only, whenever you got too much time off: your mind and unconsciousness would deep dive into your childhood making your mood miserable and leaving your emotions on edge.

You decided that the best thing to do was to head into the shower, so you approached the bedroom where you pulled out a pair of black athletic bike shorts and a blue athletic long sleeve. Just as you were about to close the door to the wall in closet, you noticed that alexia had left clothes in the floor. Not just on the floor, but right next to the laundry basket. The mishap itched you the wrong way. “Of course”, you mumbled to yourself, “of course she would leave me to pick it up when she knows that I hate when she does that.” You reached for the clothes before chucking it into the basket. It made you feel annoyed. Like your blood was boiling. But you pushed it down. You didn’t want to have a meltdown, not when Alexia had a stressful week.

When you entered the bathroom, you quickly started the water making the shower heat up before getting undressed. That was when you noticed the toothpaste on the mirror. Your face dropped when you saw it. Jesus, you thought, you just cleaned it yesterday. It made it feel like Alexia didn’t appreciate your hard work of trying to keep the house in shape. You grabbed a rag after spraying the mirror, washing the full length of the mirror. You couldn’t just was the one spot with toothpaste, because then it would cause streaks. And you hated streaks. When you turned around to feel the temperature of the running water with your hand, you stepped into cold water with your socks. It made you feel furious. “Oh my god” you mumbled to yourself. You took a deep breath with your eyes closed. Then, your hands reached for a dry towel to wipe up the water that Alexia had left for you to step on.

But, your hand didn’t find anything. You turned your head to see that there were no towels. You took a quick deep breath feeling as if you were about to explode. The robe that was hanging on its hook came to use when you wrapped yourself in it heading into the linen closet to restock towels. Alexia knew that there were fresh towels in the closet. They were neatly folded, white cream towels made out of bamboo. You grabbed the bunch that were sitting on the shelf before stomping your way into the bathroom. The towels got placed in its shelf before you wiped up Alexia’s mess from earlier this morning.

You see, the thing about being the angry girl is that it becomes your identity. You are never smart, talented, beautiful or a joy; because in your mother’s eyes, all you are is the angry girl. When she gave you silent treatment as a 5 year old and you cried for days begging her to speak to you. The first thing she said when you sat there, tears filling your eyes was that nobody likes the angry girl. It hurt like a gunshot. And whenever she used it, it felt like you got shot again. And again. And again. And again. Even though you don’t talk to your mother anymore, you are still the angry girl in her eyes. You will never be anything more.

After your shower, you sat down on the toilet while drying off. Your hand instantly reached for your phone which lead you to watch TikTok. It was childishly enough the only thing that would give your brain a pause. Some days, you had to take yourself on a timeout to watch TikTok with your headphones underneath your blanket it your dark bedroom. Maybe it was the feeling of overwhelming that hit you and maybe that was why this became the solution? Or perhaps it was because whenever you said anything about your feelings, your mother would tell you to go to your bedroom?

You kept watching TikTok before you reached for the toilet paper. And, lo and behold, there was no toilet paper. You could’ve sworn that your eye twitched for a second. But you reached out to the cabinet underneath the sink and popped the new roll on the holder before getting rid of the empty roll.

After feeling the anger building up inside you like a tidal wave, you decided to try to have something to eat. Perhaps, you thought, just perhaps you are hangry and it will all pass once you’ve had some food. Then you remembered that you had leftovers from Lasagna in the refrigerator. You peered into the kitchen and opened the big fridge door before feeling your heart sink. No lasanga. Alexia had brought it with her to practice. It made you frown because you knew damn well that Alexia had all kinds of food in the Barca cafeteria that she would eat from. Even fresh lasagna.

In a need to calm yourself down, you decided to go for a drive to the grocery store. You put on some makeup and do your hair all nice before grabbing your purse and heading out. You press the keyless start button in your car and there is a flashing sign. You are out of gas. Alexia borrowed your car yesterday. You feel your blood boiling. You hop out of your car before smacking the door as hard as you can. Then you stomp your way upstairs to the bedroom to hide from the world and your own problems. You stay hidden in the bedroom for hours. Hiding underneath your weighted blanket hoping that you will fall asleep. That’s one of the angry girl strategies, sleeping. She will close her eyes and keep them shut for hours to avoid confrontation.

But, the attempt to calm down is quickly paused. Your eyes peer open when you hear Alexia’s familiar footsteps in the hallway. “Hola, amor!” She calls out. You can tell that she’s in a good mood. The kind of mood that makes you feel sick to your bones when the angry girl is out. You tuck the blanket around your head so only your face sticks out. “..Amor? Are you sick, no?” Alexia asks softly when she opens up the door to the bedroom. You huff out in response hoping to keep the angry girl away. Alexia sits down next to you on the bed. She gives you the most loving look. It makes the angry girl scared. God, you think. You are so unloveable. Your eyes starts to look like glass, but Alexia dosent seem to catch it. “I’ll go make you some tea. Blueberry?” she askes before placing a kiss on your forehead. You nod in response.

Why is the world against me today, you think. Keeping your head calm when the storm is flaring up isn’t easy, the angry girl inside you is peeking out from the heavy blackout curtains she normally is forced to hide behind. You see, the angry girl looks big and scary. She’s hiding behind curtains as she takes up the whole room. But, the angry girl isn’t a big girl. She’s small. She’s little. She looks big because of the shadows from the lights, but she is small. She is so small. She’s easy to hurt. And she’s sensitive.

The angry girl comes out with a bang. Alexia drops the cup in the kitchen causing you to practically jump out of bed. It scares you shameless, and the angry girl feels put on the spot. You stomp into the kitchen, your face strained and your body tight. You look at the cup on the ground. Or, what was left of it. You instantly recognise it. That is what causes the angry girl to jump out. “ALEXIA!! Seriously?? My moomin mug? From my grandmother?? Seriously?? You are so clumsy, so irresponsible! God, you are so fucking annoying! Why do you ruin everything!” The angry girl yells out feeling heat rush to your cheeks. Alexia looks caught off guard before her looks softens. “You are right mi vida, i shouldn’t have dropped it. Lo siento mucho princesa” she speaks softly. Her body slowly moves towards you. When she dosent get angry back, the little girl feels scared. For some reason, that causes the angry girl to feel threatened. “Don’t fucking touch me, Alexia! Don’t you dare to fucking touch me!” The angry girl yells before turning around and sprinting to the bedroom. Your hand quickly turns the lock before your throw yourself on the bed, face looking into the wall as tears of anger swells in your eyes. You can hear Alexia outside of the door. “Leave me alone!! God, will you ever fucking learn? I should just move out!!” The angry girl screams before pulling the blanket over your head. You lay completely still with your eyes squeezed shut causing you to fall asleep within minutes.

The angry girl haunts your head monthly. It used to be weekly, and in periods; even daily. You don’t purposely let the angry girl out, but sometimes she claws her way out of the deepest darkest rooms where you normally keep her. The angry girl is a result of trauma, event though you sometimes let yourself believe that she is who you are. A part of your personality. A part of you. The angry girl hurt you for years. But you, Alexia and your psychiatrist worked together to get you where you are today.

The thing about the angry girl is that she isn’t really big. She’s a little girl. When the little girl comes out to play, she gets scared. She hides in the bedroom in fear that someone might yell at her. Or disown her. Or not talk to her. To hide is how so stays protected. Her talent is hide and seek. She tiptoes into the bathroom at night, terrified to wake someone up. She sneaks snacks when nobody is watching and god forbid someone catches her: she always ask if she’s allowed food. As a young little girl, she craved love, she craved to be seen and she craved to feel wanted. But she wasn’t allowed to feel those feelings. She was starved of the feelings. She creeps along the shadows of the hallway avoiding showing herself until she is trapped in a corner. That’s when the little girl becomes the angry girl. When she is trapped, and there is nowhere to hide and it feels like the world is about to end. But because Alexia is there, the world doesn’t end.

-

An hour later, you wake up by someone softly playing your hair. You can hear the low buzz of the bedroom tv. The slow beats of Alexia’s heart. The warmth of her lap. The embarrassment and the sadness fills your body. Tears make your eyes glass-like. You move your hand slightly. “Feeling better amore?” Alexia hums at you, not stopping her comforting movements. “I’m so sorr-“ you speak before your voice breaks and your body fills with regret and embarrassment. You feel so angry with yourself. Why are you like this? Why can’t you just communicate instead of letting everything blow up? You don’t know how to stop it, and you are terrified that it will drive Alexia away. “You don’t deserve this..” you mumble moving your hand to alexia’s knee.

“Mi amor, it’s not your fault that you were treated badly as a kid so don’t be sorry for breaking something that you didn’t break. You will get there with time and patience, and I’ll be with you every step of the way. Te amo mucho and that is never gonna change. Vale?”

Alexia looks down on you smile long softly before kissing your head.

«Vale, te amo, Ale. Te amo mucho”

[tfboyzblog]

Mikey couldn’t believe it was working. That old spell book in his grandfather’s chest was for real. Holding Saul’s hand, he could feel a strange energy fill his body. 

“Holy shit lil’ dude” the older boy exclaimed. “Look at you!”  

Mike glanced to the side where he had his mirror and look at his reflection in shock. He was rapidly growing, almost reaching Saul’s height as a senior. His shirt felt increasingly constrictive as his arms bulged, chest muscles began to push the fabric, back widened. Take off the glasses and ditch the button-up and he could pass as part of the swimming team, or maybe the soccer team... 

“Wow...” was all he could muster in his new, slightly huskier voice. 

“Bro...” Saul nudged him, but the boy was too enraptured in his marvelous growth to notice the older boy begin to dwindle in height and lose much of his size. 

“Bro! I think you’re good for now! Let go!” Saul called louder this time, using his free arm to pull off Mikey’s hand from his own. 

“Oh!” Mikey exclaimed as he came to himself. “I’m sorry! I was so...” he began to mutter as his eyes went back to the mirror and his improved form “-amazed...” he concluded as he tried to move around in his too-small clothes. 

“Yeah... I noticed...” Saul commented in an annoyed tone as he lifted his arms to see how baggy his shirt was now. He silently appreciated the belt holding up his shorts. “Anymore and I’d come out of this looking like a middle schooler... “ 

Mikey looked at his friend, noticing how they practically saw eye to eye now, but the bulk and size the eighteen-year-old had before were gone. He’d still pass for a senior, maybe a junior, but a more average looking one now.  

He smirked. “Nah! You’re still a big boy.” He playfully patted him on the shoulder. “Besides, you’d probably be a cute middle schooler anyway.” He commented. 

“Don’t get any ideas, Mikey!” He pointed at Mike. “Don’t make me regret this!” 

Mikey nodded. “Don’t worry! I promise I won’t.” He hugged his friend, feeling the new power in his arms. If he wanted, he thought, he could hold Saul like that with minimal effort. It felt good. During his strong hug he could swear he felt a poke against his leg, but as he let go, he could see nothing out of the ordinary, aside from what could be a slight blush on Saul’s heavy tanned skin. 

“Thank you! I mean it!” Mikey said. “I just need to stop being kicked around by Hank and his imbecile posse. And now,” he attempted to flex a bicep, but stopping as soon as he started hearing a tear in the fabric “I can! And all thanks to you.” 

“Yeah yeah! I know I’m awesome!” Saul waved. “Just give me back my...” he looked up and down to the burgeoning athlete in dork clothes “you know, everything, next week. That should be enough...”  

“Don’t worry.” Mike said with a wink. “I’ll put your... everything to good use!” 

-- 

Saul left soon after and Mikey thanked the heavens. He couldn’t stand in these terribly tight clothes anymore! His shirt, his socks, but more urgent yet, his underwear. 

Taking off his button shirt with effort, Mikey was in awe of his new sculpted pecs protruding from his chest, he caressed them and followed down to an immaculate row of abs connecting to his waist. He pulled off the trousers, that now looked like they were close to tearing at the seams. His legs were wide and powerful. His feet looked bigger, even. And gazing up he stopped at his poor white briefs, pushing and compressing an impressive bulge. 

“Wow...” He moaned. “I guess I got some of Saul’s ‘other’ size too...” He thought as he pulled down the last piece of constrictive clothes. A long, girthy semi erect dick whipped out of the small nerdy briefs. “I must be, like... 7 inches now!” Mikey said, grabbing his newly improved fuckstick. It felt heavy in his hand, being accustomed to his 4 incher. “Poor Saul.” He thought, making a note to return him his size as soon as he could. 

“But for now...” He smirked and flexed his huge biceps. His dick twitched at the sight. “I want to enjoy the ride.” 

-- 

Saul was getting restless. The week was almost over and not a word for his neighbor. Mikey was always a good kid, and he was tired of hearing how he was constantly getting bullied by some idiot jocks... 

He looked at his mirror. He missed his muscles and the size he used to carry, but he couldn’t help thinking how he kinda looked cuter with a bit less meat in his bones, more of an average but still charming high school boy. He felt a tingle in his lower area, making him rethink all of that. If he knew Mikey’s weird spell would also drain away his size down there, he’d probably reconsider being a donor. Even in his boxers, there was hardly any bump in the front. His healthy looking 6 incher, now closer to 4, at most... 

Suddenly there was a strong knock at the door. 

Mikey! It had to be him! 

Saul flew down the stairs, only in a baggy t-shirt and boxers. He wasn’t prepared for who was waiting on the other side of the door. 

A hulking muscular beast walked in. “Hey there little dude.” He said in a deep voice as he looked down at Saul. “Did you get smaller since I last see you?” 

“Mikey?” Saul asked incredulous. This muscle god was at least 7 feet tall by now, his massive chest barely covered by a tank top, strong thick arms stretched behind his head exposing a pair of sweaty and moderately hairy pits. The monster smirked at Saul, and it was clear it was his friend’s face. More masculine, more defined, perfect skin instead of the normal zits, a killer smile... 

“I go by Mike now. Mikey was giving people the impression I was some tiny nerd or something.” He brings one of his arms down and casually adjusts his crotch. “And there’s nothing tiny here, right?” He laughs.  

Saul could see the outline of the massive snake in his underwear, easily spotted in all its thick glory even through the sweatpants Mike was wearing. 

“What...what happened? You were like...not half as big last week.” Saul asked the giant teen boy. 

“Well, it was all thanks to you, buddy!” He said as he walked towards Saul and grabbed him in a strong hug. Saul’s head resting against the boy’s giant pec. He suddenly felt inundated by the smell coming from his arms. Saul’s head started swimming and a tingle made his dick twitch. 

“You should’ve seen Hank’s face!” Mike laughed and let go of Saul, walking towards the living room and sitting in the sofa, legs wide apart. “When he saw I was as tall as him and was like, as jacked as him, I think he shat his pants. For the first day in my high school life, they left me alone. I couldn’t believe it was that easy!” 

“That’s great! But then-” Saul tried to speak. 

“I wasn’t done speaking, bro.” Mike interrupted, in a calm, but authoritative way. His voice caused a tingle to spread down Saul’s spine and into his lower area. 

“Well, you won’t believe what those pussies tried next!” He continued, now in a friendlier tone. Saul, however, couldn’t shake off the force the boy exuded and the respect he commanded with a simple sentence. He stood in front of the huge teen as he stretched on the couch.  

“They waited for me outside the school the next day. Waited for me to be alone and then Hank grabbed me and dragged me to old warehouse. I guess he thought he couldn’t put me in my place alone now, so he wanted to gang up on me where no one could see. Can you imagine though? How could those losers ever think my place was beneath them?” He laughed at the notion. 

“And wasn’t he surprised when he noticed my shoulders were too wide for him to grab me like that. And weren’t his friends shocked when he let go of me and was just a skinny brat. You should’ve seen his face. Wait. You can actually see it. I took pictures.” Mike said, picking his phone from his pocket. Turning the screen to Saul, the awe-struck boy could see a kid looking no older than 12, swimming in his oversized clothes, looking up in shock. 

“Glad I remembered grandad’s spell, eh?” He winked at Saul, who nodded, not wanting to interrupt his friend again. 

“Well, after the brat was taken care of, his friends were easy pickings, to be honest. With every bit of muscle I took, I took ability, masculinity, everything that made them jocks. They had nowhere to run, and I took it all.” He laughed. 

“So, what do you think lil’ bro?” Mike smirked at Saul as he flexed his gigantic biceps. 

Saul dry swallowed. What did he think. Right in front of him was the biggest 15-year-old in the world, most likely. He exuded power and masculinity. He fumbled for words. He felt butterflies in his stomach and the tingling in his dick was stronger than ever. Not just his dick, either. He felt a yearning, inside... 

“Mike-” he almost used his old nickname. “That’s insane. You’re like, bodybuilder huge!”  

“I know, right? Pretty sick!” He guffawed. “Didn’t feel the need to drain them as much as Hanky boy, but they’re pretty much nobodies now. Horny submissive nobodies, actually.” Saul was shook. “They can’t seem to quit my dick, now.” 

“But then again.” Mike grabbed a handful of cock “I got about four jocks worth of testosterone and musk so...” He looked suggestively at Saul “who would be able to...” 

Saul tried to repress the growing feeling inside him. “But your folks? I live right next door and saw nothing different. No one was surprised about this much growth?” He tried to change the subject. 

“Oh that!” Mike waved. “Another one of grandad’s spells. Basically, it normalized things. If you’re outside the spell, that’s how things always were. Kids at school all think that this is how I always looked. Well except for Hanky boy and the bottom bunch. Even if they wanted to tell someone what happened no one would believe them. I think they like knowing their muscles made me this huge, and if they don’t, they should. But yeah, since you were outside that spell it probably, sorta normalized things for you too...”   

Saul just nodded. It made sense. Even though his head was spinning from all this information and the increasing muskiness in the room. 

“So yeah. It’s all thanks to you, lil’ buddy!” Mike reached in front and grabbed Saul until the smaller 18-year-old was straddling his huge quad. Mike’s strong arms surrounded the boy and hugged him tightly. Saul couldn’t help himself but sitting on his friend's leg and putting his hands on his muscular body. 

“I came over to honor my end of the deal. Give you back your muscle. Your height. A few inches down there...” he chuckled. “Unless you don’t want me to.” 

Saul looked shockingly into his friend’s eyes, still holding to his pecs and shoulders. How could he think that was the case. For an entire week he’s been forced to live without his hard-earned physique. It’s not like it’s that bad, and he had to admit he fit real comfortably on Mike’s lap like that, but still... 

“Unless you want me to keep them. Keep looking like this.” He spoke softly, in a voice that twisted his thoughts. 

 “I think that’s what you want.” He chuckled softly; poking Saul’s modest but raging boner. A large wet spot already had formed on the front of his boxers. “And if that’s the case, I’m sure I can pay you back some other way.” Mike’s big meaty hand slid down Saul’s slender back until it found his supple ass. Saul yelped as the hand caressed his backside. “I’ll make sure to give it all to you. Again, and again...” He whispered at his ear. 

“But you have to be the one to say so.” He continued. “So, what will it be?”  

Saul still looked at his friend’s eyes, his hands wandered freely on Mike’s massive chest. He couldn’t think straight, and the yearning inside grew and grew until he finally admitted to himself what it really was.  

He wanted this muscle god inside him. He knew he’d gladly give all his muscle, all his masculinity, just to be owned by this perfect specimen. No matter how many others there were; to know he was Mike’s. To be used as he saw fit. Saul could only hope he was able to give more to this example of athletic perfection. More of his height, so he’d be smaller, and Mike could manhandle him with even more ease, more of his dick and balls, now useless for Mike’s intended purpose, so he could add more to the python and orange sized balls his former nerd friend now had. 

And as he imagined that and he became even more hungry for cock, Saul felt himself sink deeper, fit even more snugly in Mike’s embrace. He could feel the teenage titan stretch a bit more; his spine extend a couple more inches; his frame swell with some more pounds of muscle...  

Saul looked up at Mike and approached his mouth to his, still afraid to make any noise, and meekly nodded. After all, the choice was obvious. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Well this has been my first "longer" story and the first experiment in making stories without a picture for inspiration and instead drawing random themes from a choice wheel. This time the themes were Muscle Theft and Corruption ;)

The AI picture is just meant as a placeholder for now, as I haven't found a appropriate picture for it ( and I know you pervs prefer TF stories with pictures). I invite people to submit pictures to accompany this story. And finally, if you have suggestions of other places I could post my longer stories from now on, please let me know!!

[goatisbetheres]

The Penguins, Boston Bruins, Carolina Hurricanes, and Washington Capitals have already started the process of implementing optional neck protection for players, a Penguins and league source told The Athletic. The collective aim is to stock up on multiple available forms of equipment for players, at their choosing, to test during practices.

The sooner the better, several Penguins players said on Tuesday.

“Not wait until training camp,” Evgeni Malkinsaid. “Do it now. Maybe players will like, maybe not. Our choice, you know?

“But, yes, wear in practice, see what feels good. Maybe not same thing like big pad for neck. But if shirt or cover like for socks and wrists, let’s try. Not wait.”

The death of Johnson, who died after his neck was cut by a skate blade during a collision in an English league game on Saturday, sparked Penguins general manager Kyle Dubas and coach Mike Sullivan to discuss the pros and cons of bringing neck protection gear into the club’s equipment mix. Advised by members of the equipment staff on details to consider — not only comfort but also how the protective element would look on players — Dubas reached out to the league and suggested head equipment manager Jon Taglianetti inquire with manufacturers.

Currently, manufacturers offer neck guards and base layer tops that prevent or lessen the severity of cuts.

“We’re in the process right now of trying to talk to our players about some protective equipment in those vulnerable areas,” Sullivan said. He added the Penguins’ minor-league affiliates, the Wilkes-Barre/Scranton Penguins (AHL) and Wheeling Nailers (ECHL), are now required to wear a form of neck and wrist guards.

The Penguins — because Johnson was once one of their own — want to set an example that could eventually lead to neck protection becoming mandatory in the NHL. However, that would require the league and its Players’ Association to reach an agreement, which is unlikely this season.

Even procuring options for players with which to experiment sooner than later comes with challenges. Specifically, a Penguins source said, the club is having “a hard time getting stuff” because of high demand in the wake of Johnson’s death.

“Of course, we’re talking about it now,” Kris Letang said. “But there’s a reason why kids are wearing it, you know?

“There’s always going to be accidents. But if you can minimize the risk and if they can find something that’s going to be comfortable for the guys to play with, it should be an experiment.

“I don’t know how it’s going to play out. But I’d probably try something.”

Like Pettersson, Letang sat at his locker on Tuesday and found it impossible not to think about Johnson while discussing the neck protection topic. He’s proud his organization, the only one he’s known over 18 NHL seasons, is attempting to lead by example.

“But it shouldn’t just be the Penguins,” he said. “Everybody should (be) trying something.

“We all know what happened (to Johnson). We should try to prevent something like that from happening again if it can be done.”

this is so important

also this tweet

[nothorses]

I hope this is okay to ask but I’m pretty desperate and googling stuff has failed me, so do you or one of your followers have recommendations on how to deal with the BO that comes with taking testosterone? I never had BO that couldn’t just be managed by showering enough and putting on just any deodorant but now that I’m taking T I sweat a lot and I smell bad and I nothing I do seems to fix it. My boss has politely mentioned it several times now despite all my effort and it’s so mortifying and embarrassing.

Things I’ve tried and am currently doing include so many different deodorants which I bring to work and reapply, putting baking powder in my shoes, on top of general basic hygiene. But none of it seems to make a dent and it doesn’t help that I can’t really change clothes or shoes throughout the day. I have to wear closed toed shoes and a lab coat and my job is pretty active, plus it’s 10 minutes walk from the parking lot and it’s over 100F or 40 C right now so when I arrive at work I’m already pouring sweat. I also have a large chest so it all gets under my bra and soaks into it and by the end of the day the bottom part of my bra reeks.

I know some ocasional BO on a busy day can’t be helped but none of the other people at work including other male coworkers seem to have the same issue at all, so there’s got to be a solution but I haven’t found it. Im thinking of trying antiperspirants but I also know I need to sweat and I would rather not put my health at risk. So if anyone has something that works for them please let me know bc im really desperate here.

First I want to say: you're not doing anything wrong. You probably just sweat more than some other folks, and that's not your fault, and you shouldn't feel bad about it. I'm gonna give you some ideas to try if you haven't yet, but I don't know how much you've already tried, and it sounds like you've been through a lot already.

I also have always had terrible BO, and the only thing that helped at all pre-T was "prescription strength" deodorant. I honestly have had less of an issue since starting T, weirdly enough, but part of that is also that I physically cannot stand to shower any less frequently than every single morning (not necessarily a good thing lol), and I also started using antibacterial products on my armpits when I shower.

Currently I use benzoyl peroxide body wash on my armpits, which can be drying, but it hasn't caused me issues so far (just look for Panoxyl, other brands have caused irritation for me and my partner both). I used Betadine surgical scrub before that for a bit (you collect weird shit when you work with horses 🤷‍♂️) and that worked well, too- plus it's less likely to irritate skin.

I also find that certain shirts cause me to sweat there more, and those also tend to be the more form-fitting shirts that get up into my armpits. That skin def needs to breathe.

My partner has had trouble with feet/shoes in the past, and he's used cedar shoeforms to mitigate that (cedar is also antibacterial!). He also makes sure any shoes he gets are breathable (not leather), and if they are leather, he gives them at least a day or two between wears. Probably good practice if you notice any kind of smell on any of your shoes.

You mention baking powder, and I'm not sure if you meant baking soda and just mixed them up (which I do all the time lmao) but just in case: if you are using baking powder, the one you want is baking soda.

I don't have much advice for chest sweat, except that you may want to consider bringing an extra bra (and maybe an extra pair of socks if you're noticing it before the end of the day) to change into midway through the day. You can also look for more breathable fabrics in general, especially athletic-wear, which is already designed to help wick sweat and mitigate those issues.

Lastly, I want to stress again that you're not doing anything wrong. Some people have more trouble with this than others, and if you're really struggling in a way nobody around you is, it may be that you've got something going on in your body that they don't have to deal with. This could be a medical thing as well (like acne!!), and there's no shame in seeking medical solutions for it. Talk to your doctor if you can; it sounds like it's causing you distress, and you deserve to be comfortable.

[rottenaero]

“Do you have any bands?”

Eddie glances at Steve, eyebrow raised. “I mean, yeah? Probably not your taste in music but-“

Steve shakes his head, “No, not like,” He sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose. “Like rubber bands.”

The metalhead eyes him, “Uh, you of all people should know those are terrible for your hair.” He stated, but makes to grab one anyway.

“No dumbass, braces bands.”

It clicked.

“Oh.”

He stared at Steve, who had his brow furrowed, and who also apparently had braces. “I forgot to bring extras, didn’t know if you had some for Dustin, or, Jeff has braces right?”

“Yep, yeah,” Eddie says after getting over the initial shock, how had he not noticed? He stands and makes his way towards a desk drawer and opens it, before throwing a tiny package toward Steve who catches it with all the grace of an athlete.

Steve put the bands on quickly, and Eddie watches the whole process. As soon as he’s done, he’s met with a question.

“When did you get them?”

“Five months ago.”

“Five months-“ He sputters. “Was I the only one who didn’t know?”

“Eh,” Steve shrugs, and tosses the tiny package of elastic onto the nightstand. He leans against the wall, and Eddie sidles up to his side. “Maybe, no one else has asked me about it so I don’t know. Hey, what are yo-“

Eddie grabs his chin with one hand and uses the other to open the mouth. The elastics that hadn’t been swapped out were a mix of blue and black. Steve smacked lightly at his arm.

“Dude, can you ask?”

“No need to, I’m done.”

He backs up, and taps his knee. “Why’d you get them now?”

“My parents wanted to do it in middle-school, but then things got busy for them, and they didn’t want me to have them in high-school, so I just never got ‘em.”

“Till five months ago.”

“Till five months ago.” Steve agreed.

“Now all you need are some glasses and you’ll look like a proper little nerd.” Eddie jokes, leaning his head onto his palms. Steve stares at him blankly and he falters. “What?”

“I do have glasses.”

“Huh.”

“I don’t really wear them because they slide off my head super easily but I still have them.”

Steve in glasses steve in glasses steve in glasses steve in GLASSES.

“Are they uh-“

He balls on of his hands into a fist and coughs into it. “-You have them with you?” Steve leans forward, upper half off the bed to grab something from his bag and Eddie forces himself to watch as he unzips the bag, and not at the spot where his borrowed shirt rides up on his back.

He brings out two plastic cases, and flicks the larger one open.

Inside is a pair of slightly thicker framed square glasses, and he pulls them out, slides them onto his face and looks at Eddie.

The metalhead crosses his legs and puts his hands in his lap. “You uh, look good man.”

“Thanks.” Almost as if on cue the pair shift on his nose and slide down a bit. The younger huffs.

Eddie reaches out and grabs them, putting them on his own face without much fight from Steve. He blinks. “Holy shit man, you’re blind. How do you live without these?”

“Contacts.” He states, opens the other case and starts poking at his eye.

“Ew.” Eddie slams his eyes shut. “Get something to keep the glasses on, thats nasty.”

“Hold on, I’m almost done then you can open your eyes.” After a second, he feels the frames lifting off his nose, and feels a pat on his back.

“There.”

He opens them, and stares.

Takes it all in. Not just the glasses like he had earlier, the cropped Deep Purple shirt he’d let him borrow, a sliver of the bat bites peeking out from the bottom. The shorts he was wearing were the ones that Eddie knew he use to wear to basketball practice.

Definitely not because he watched the practices, no, it’s because Steve told him. Obviously.

The socks he were wearing were tube socks, and what kind of monster wore long socks to bed?

Despite that, he grinned.

“What? What’s that look on your face?” Steve asked, brows furrowed and nose crinkled but there was a smile on his face. He could see the braces.

“You’re such a nerd.” Eddie states.

“You’re one to talk, freak.” It’s not said with malice, and Steve flicks his knee as he says it.

Eddie leans into his side, feels unexplainably warm. “That’s king of freaks to you, Harrington.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever floats your boat, freak.”

[mugtoast]

daisy, everytime I see you, my day is getting coloured [♪]

started playing the sims in bloom challenge and it's been so fun!! here's a lookbook for my founder ashley. (i'll try to post some pictures but it probably won't be consistent as i want to enjoy the game :))

❀ Everyday 01: hair + ribbon acc | top | jeans | shoes ❀ Everyday 02: hair | necklace | top (EA) | skirt | socks | shoes ❀ Everyday 03: hair | overalls | shoes ❀ Everyday 04: necklace | top | shorts | shoes ❀ Formal: dress | shoes (tsr) ❀ Athletic: hair | top | pants | shoes ❀ Sleep: shirt (simsfinds) ❀ Party 01: necklace | dress | tights | boots ❀ Party 02: hair | top | pants | waist chain | bracelets | heels ❀ Swim: swimsuit ❀ Hot weather: hair | top | shorts | sandals ❀ Cold weather: beanie | outfit (EA) | boots

thank you + credits to these talented cc creators ❀ @ridgeport @clumsyalienn @mossylane @trillyke @sunivaa @christopher067 @b0t0xbrat @jius-sims @serenity-cc @jellymoo @its-adrienpastel @rustys-cc @huiernxoxo @arltos @caio-cc @dogsill @sentate @daylifesims @cubersims @arethabee @sundialsims @oakiyo @madlensims

[moneymartin]

teen gf Shauna headcanons pleaseee

🐶 - losergf!shauna hcs

warnings: mostly fluff but a lil smut under the divider :p

a/n: i know u didn’t ask for loser but shauna shipman is soooo loser girlfriend u cannot tell me otherwise. kinda messy and trash… i’m so sleepy rn i’m writing this half awake nd lowk a lil drunk UGH

taglist: @deerlottie @ultrone

my brown eyed beautiful baby where do i even start.

def the most athletic yj i will stand by this till the day i die

MUSCLE MAMAAAA

rolls up the sleeves of her flannels so you can see her muscles pop 😮‍💨

not a gym freak though but she works her arms 100%

cuddlebug fosho

little spoon and you can argue with me about that all you want this girl loves to be held

when she big spoons though she’s burying your face into her chest all the time

she plays with your hair tho no doubt abt it

even when you’re cuddling her instead

super soft kisses all over you while you doze off

sleeps after you do just to make sure cause sometimes you end up sleeping a lil too hard and she needs to make sure you aren’t dead

well thats what she thinks.

wakes up early even though she sleeps the latest out of the both of you

when you sleep for way too long she ends up full on wrestling you until you wake up

music geek

she def loves the smashing pumpkins, radiohead, the cranberries, the cure, mazzy star, jeff buckley, pavement, the cardigans. artists and bands of that genre

had a walkman like nat’s that you guys share on walks together

also has a vinyl player that she keeps at hers so you could listen to music with her when you come over

writes about you in her journal while she listens to the music

also writes these cute little love letters for you and she’ll write what songs she listened to while writing

sleepovers all the time though she’s one of those girls

drives you all over the place too

no matter how far so that you know she truly loves you

she goes absolutely nuts when you’re wearing her clothes i fink

esp her flannels

the moment you’re seen wearing one she can only think about taking it off of you cause it looks so good 😞

loves when you wear her jersey too

or her letterman jacket

funny sock gal

wears the one w monster faces on em or something like that

south park socks… hmo

SMARTY PANTS

got accepted into brown for a reason

she’s always helping you with assignments in case they’re too hard

she runs through them so fast though it actually baffles you to how she can do it

book geek too

has probably read harry potter a million times

edgar allan poe is her main dude she def likes poems and stuff from him

genuinely has a momma instinct

before you even get sick she tells you to be careful with the cold

and you don’t listen.

so you do end up getting sick and she has to take care of you until you’re all better

babies you but is also teasing you cause you didn’t listen to her warnings about it 😭 she could tell beforehand that you were gonna get sick

unlike lottie i think shauna has the ability to cook and stuff like that

not a 5 star chef but she’s good enough for you

being touchy in her public is her thangggg

you guys are always touching somehow

pinky holding, interlocked arms, holding hands, her just grabbing your wrist. she’s always gotta hold you no matter whaaaat

not very possessive but definitely a jealous person

makes it known she’s jealous w her attitude

has those anger issues we all know it

is not afraid to make a scene in front of a bunch of people she will cuss someone out for even looking at you

but she’s just jealous cause she’s really insecure :( poor girl my god

she thinks that the people you talk to are better than she’ll ever be

you have to reassure her countless of times so she can feel better about herself cause she’s always questioning you abt it

she loves little make out seshes behind the bleachers

its def the thrill of being caught like she loves that so much 🥸

when she kisses you she isn’t rough i think she’s very gentle actually

caressing your jaw and cheeks so you know she’s there and its not just some dream 😭

loves sitting on your lap while kissing cause it makes her feel like she’s the one in charge

also cause your hands are always in the spots where she wants them without her having to ask

biting…

teeth marks EVERYWHERE!!!

dom fosho but that’s not relevant rn

during arguments this girl is ruthless

not because she wants to hurt you but it’s because she’s always bubbling up

bottles up everything cause she’s afraid people won’t listen to her

but she’ll apologize eventually after if it looks like whatever she said got to you

won’t mean anything she tells you she just gets so mad at everything cause she can’t express herself as well :(

she regrets it so fast too like she’s immediately saying sorry afterwards

def a lace girly

loves showing off her new sets for you…

red black and white are the favs

OUUHHH

whiny as fuck but also holds her noises in cause she thinks they’re embarrassing

PANTER AND GROANER FOR SUREEEE

switch i think

like if she really wanted to she could top you but she’d rather be a power bottom

have you ride her strap or whatever…

its blue.

loves when you eat her out though cause she gets to pull on your hair

makes you talk her through it and when you’re topping but when she tops shes SO bold

she loves when you praise her thats the only thing she wants to hear from you during it

makes you kiss around her tits for sure

thats where she always wants you to be

when she’s jealous you’re constantly asking if she’s okay which leads into an argument

meaning that it’ll probably lead into really hot angry sex from her

the car scene really spoke to me

initiates everything too

anyways i’m done i’m so tired

[katebishopshands]

But I’m a Cheerleader ! Pt. 4

(Cheerleader!Kate Bishop/reader) (18+)

Pt.1

Pt.2

Pt. 3

»-------------¤-------------«

The end of cheer camp nears. With three days left in the week to carry your team to victory, you only have one thing standing in your way.

Your feelings for Kate.

No longer being able to let your feelings for her hide in the depths of your subconscious, you do something you never thought you’d do.

You talk to her.

»-------------¤-------------«

You search for her eye for the rest of the day. You swear you can feel her staring at the back of your head during lunch, but when you turn around to look at her shes talking with America and Clint like nothing had happened.

Like she hadn’t shoved her hands down your spanx hours earlier.

Like you hadn’t done the same to her a day prior.

Yelena beams to you on your way to the last rotation of the day, conditioning.

“Today was great, wasn’t it? I think we’re really onto something this season” she’s talking nonsense, not even making eye contact with you. She toys with the end of a blonde braid as she keeps up with the rest of the team. You adjust your backpack on your shoulders, glancing behind you in hopes to see Kate.

You see her, but she doesn’t see you.

Was the moment in the locker room her way of calling it quits? Whatever relationship that had been developing, squashed in under 24 hours? Maybe the sweatshirt was her way of saying goodbye.

“Yeah uh, I don’t know Yelena, but I think we were on fire today!” You smile back at her, not wanting to show her the internal conflict you were going through as you stepped through the doors of the training facility.

It shouldn’t bother you that Kate ignores you throughout the last rotation of the day, throughout dinner and the rest of the night. If anything, you should be happy that she’s finally done tormenting you. But you’re not. You crave her eyes on you, the snarky comments, the snotty looks. You crave her. Always have. Since you started cheering, Kate had been with you. At competitions, try outs, cheer camps. She’s a constant in your life that you didn’t even realize.

So now having a day almost completely void of her, felt wrong.

You played with the sleeves of the sweatshirt you had stolen, well now Kate had given to you. Just biding time until you got the energy to get up and take your shower. The tie faded tie blanket you had made sophomore year of high school sat under you. On top of the blood, sweat and tears from training that day, you also hadn’t really gotten a chance to clean yourself up since the…incident with Kate in the locker room that morning. A shower sounded so good, but your body ached.

Along with the aching muscles, your heart ached over the lack of Kate’s attention during the latter half of the day. You felt like a spoiled child. You hated admitting that feelings of some sort had started growing for the dark haired girl. But they had, in some fucked up sort of way.

You’re getting up from your bed, grabbing the towel that hung on the back of the door to the bathroom after not being able to take the smell of your own BO any longer. But you stop before you turn the bathroom door handle.

You had to talk to Kate.

You couldn’t keep letting her take over your mind. She hadn’t even done anything really, but god was she distracting. You couldn’t live through the rest of camp looking over your shoulder to see if she was noticing you.

You hung the towel back up on the door, sighing a bit as you hung your head before walking over to the door that led to the hall. Your bare feet stuck to the cool linoleum flooring. You knew deep down that you probably should be wearing socks or some sort of slip on shoe to avoid athletes foot or wherever, but you were too tired to care.

Hand colliding with the metal door handle that led to the hallway, you turn it and open your door. You’re looking at the ground as you do so, ready to make the short walk to Kate’s room so you can tell her how you feel.

“Um…hi…?” Your eyes flick up to the voice that had just spoken up.

It’s Kate, her hand still stretched out, reaching towards your door handle. Her hair is down . It’s a little wet from a shower you assume. Her pajama shorts low on her hips once again. You’re able to see the purple jeweled jewelry she has in her belly button piercing more clearly than earlier. Your mouth goes dry.

“I was just..um..” you’re sputtering, suddenly forgetting why you were even going to see Kate in the first place. She chuckles slightly at you, letting her head fall for a moment before looking back at you.

“Can we talk? And I mean actually talk” she’s still smiling, not looking like she’s mad at you. This settles the uneasy feeling in your stomach.

“It’s like you stole the words out of my mouth.” You take a step out of her way, beckoning her to take a step into your room .

She obliges and steps past you, you’re able to smell her shampoo from her shower. Coconut. You knew that already, having woken up to her hair in your face that morning. You’re suddenly insecure about the way you smell after deciding to ditch your shower in favor of going and talking with Kate.

Kate turns to you before she enters fully into the bedroom area of the dorm. She picks at the skin on her lip with her teeth , her hands clenched at her sides. She’s swaying back and forth, clearly in thought.

“So..you wanted to talk?” You interrupt her thought process. You couldn’t stand having her this close to you when you didn’t know where this newfound relationship stood. The last time you had spoken it had felt like a goodbye, but now you weren’t sure.

“Right! Yeah..of course..” Kate shakes her head a bit, as if she was trying to shake her ideas out.

“I think..” she starts. You brace yourself for impact. This was it. This was where she broke everything off with you, and you went back to hating each others guts, or even possibly ignoring each other for the rest of your lives. You look at your feet, not wanting to meet her watery blue eyes.

“I think we started this off wrong” she finishes, and it’s not what you were expecting to come out of her mouth in that moment. Kate Bishop admitting she had done something wrong, it was a Christmas miracle.

“Oh?” You look up in surprise, finally looking at her. She looks nervous actually. No longer the confident girl who had asked you to ride her thigh last night, or the girl who had followed you to the locker rooms. She looks small. She’s fidgeting with the seams of her pajama shorts, bouncing from foot to foot.

“Yeah, I mean like.. I usually don’t do this kind of thing..well I do but I don’t know..”

You cock you head at her, not really sure what she’s trying to get at.

“I’m not sure I’m following” Kate sighs and goes to sit down on your bed. She looks at you expectantly before nodding her head next to her, inviting you to sit down next to her. You mindlessly follow her request and sit an almost too far distance away from her. She raises an eyebrow at you but continues.

“I’m sorry I just..I’m used to getting with girls suddenly but there’s something about you.. I don’t know. You’ve bugged me since the day I met you..”

“So you’re saying I’m different that the other girls you’ve been with?” You scoff a little at how cliche it sounds.

“Yes! But it’s not like that I just…I’d like to get to know you…like actually get to know you..” Kate won’t look at you. She’s staring at the chipped purple polish on her fingers, playing with the hang nails that cling to her cuticles.

“Kate..” she looks up at you. If you didn’t know any better you’d think she had tears in her eyes. She’s embarrassed you realize. The ego machine that was Kate bishop was embarrassed infront of you.

“Are you saying you want to actually have a conversation with me and not just fuck my brains out?” She goes red at this. You laugh a little.

“I mean if you want to put it that bluntly…yes? If that’s okay with you.” Her voice is hopeful. She’s trying to hide behind awkward laughter, but you can tell that she’s wanting you to say yes.

“Look, don’t get me wrong I REALLY like fucking your brains out, but I think in this case we need to get past the enemies thing and get to the friend part first..” she ends her sentence with an awkward laugh.

“Oh so we’re enemies?” You lean forward, smiling a little at the idea that Kate thought you were enemies.

“You told me last night that you ‘ hate me’, I’d take that as being enemies” she rolls her eyes a little, her attitude coming back for a second.

“Maybe I wouldn’t hate you if you weren’t such a show off”

“And maybe I wouldn’t show off so much if you didn’t give me dirty looks all the time” she snaps back from your snarky remark. You put your hands up as a sign of surrender.

“Okay Kate Bishop…let’s be friends then…ask me whatever you want”

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶ ➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶ ➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

Kate’s legs are crossed over your own. Your back against the stone wall of the dorm room that your bed sat against. You’re both laughing at some story she was finishing up.

“There’s no way you’re that scared of horses” you say in between laughs, trying to catch your breath. One of your hands sits atop Kate’s knee, a thin barrier of sweat between your exposed skin.

“I’m being so for real right now, I ran right into the road after seeing the Central Park carriage horses for the first time” she’s laughing too. Her nose crinkling as she smiles big. She’s cute.

This is the first time you’ve looked at Kate and thought she was cute. Not hot, or sexy or anything of the sort. She’s cute. She’s being herself in the moment, not the villain you had made her out to be in your head. She’s someone who if you had met under different circumstances, you’d be totally head over heels for almost instantly.

“My mom had to run into the road after me to make sure I didn’t get squashed” she’s grinning at you.

“And…you’re still scared of horses?”

Kate looks away from you.

“No comment” she continues to not look at you, opting instead to play with the ties in your blanket

You scoff at her and shove her shoulder a lightly. Kate leans back and rubs at her shoulder where you had hit her.

“No fucking way you’re scared of horses, you’re 22!” you nearly yell at her. You’re in awe. True awe. In the past two days you’ve learned some crazy things about about Kate, but this one took the cake. She rolls her eyes at you, black hair sliding off her shoulder and falling behind her back.

“Look, I don’t trust them. They know something we don’t, I swear!” Kate is desperate to plead her case, but you’re not having it.

“You’re ridiculous” it comes out breathy as you look down to where your hand still sat atop her knee. The bed dips and shakes a little as Kate scoots a a little closer to you, her purple polished hand finding your thigh. Your boxers rise up a little as you shift a bit. Either it be from nerves or to relive the growing heat in your core, you’re not sure. Kate rubs her thumb over your thigh.

“Would it be ridiculous of me to say that you might be into it?” Half lidded blue eyes bore into the side of your face. You dare to sneak a glance at her out of the corner of your eye. She’s waiting for a response.

“You’re ridiculous” you repeat, this time more quietly, less confident than before. She nods her head a little .

“That’s what I thought” before you knew it she’s shifting her position on you, swinging her leg over you to straddle your lap. You hold your hands on her waist, looking up at her with your brows furrowed in confusion not exactly sure what she was trying to get at.

Kate leans down and presses a gentle kiss to your lips. You kiss her back.

The last two hours you had learned more about Kate Bishop than you had ever intended on. Her mom had essentially raised her herself after her dad passed away. She had gone to an all girls school for high school. Despite being the charismatic powerhouse that you knew from cheer, she struggled to have a lot of close friends.

Kate Bishop was nice. A hell of a lot nicer than you were. Always judging Kate, chalking her up to some rich girl who got eve try thing she had wanted, but you were so wrong.

And now here she was, fingers tugging at the hairs that sat on the base of your neck as she kissed you. She rocks into the kiss a little, sending your back against the cool stone of the wall behind you. You can’t tell what gives you the goosebumps that prick up on your arms and exposed skin of your legs; the feeling of the wall through your tshirt or Kate’s lips on your own.

Kate pulls away, a little out of breath and looks down at your. Her hair is back over one shoulder, it’s almost fully dry now.

“What happened to not wanting to do anything again until we’re friends? “ you jab at her, squeezing her hips a little. You can’t help but tease her. The last couple of hours had been entirely too nice for your liking. She groans and rolls her eyes.

“Are we not friends yet? I told you about my dead dad..I think that means things are getting pretty serious” she’s joking, but the undertone of her words is legitimate.

You run your hands up her back, nails catching slightly on the cropped tank top she wore. Kate shivers. Sitting up slightly, you let your nose graze hers. She looks at you and blinks a few times expectantly.

“I don’t know Katie…” your thumbs are rubbing small circles on her back. Kate takes a small breath of air in anticipation.

“I’m honestly still a little wigged out about the horse phobia” you grin at her, moving your face closer to hers and letting your noses brush once again.

“but..I guess..”

“Please” Kate cuts you off, no she begs you. Thick brows furrowed, full lips slightly parted as she releases her breath onto your face.

“I guess I’d call us friends now.”

Kate’s resolve crumbles quickly. She slings her hands over your shoulders, grabbing at the hair at the base of your neck again. She’s tugging on them, eliciting pleased sighs out of you as you kiss her.

You’re holding her, pressing her body into yours. Her chest pressed against yours as you fight for control of the kiss. Kate’s tilting her head to get better access to you. Hot, open mouthed kisses shared between you break the would be silence of the dorm room.

For the second time while in the process of kissing Kate, you think of your neighbor and best friend, Yelena. Wondering what she would think of if she heard you sucking face with your biggest rival. You shudder, making a mental note to keep it down if you guys do end up banging.

Kate detaches her mouth from yours and works downward . A kiss to the corner of your mouth, your chin, your neck, right above the collar of your shirt. She lifts off of your for a minutes, her fingers playing with the bottom of your shirt. It’s an old competition shirt, you think you gotten it when you were maybe 17. Kate eyeballs it for a moment. She laughs.

“We won this competition…you guys came in second.” Of course she had to have brought that up. You scoff at her.

“Oh you bitch” you push her off of you, adjusting her position so her head fell on your pillow. Kate laughs at you as she falls backwards. Her dark hair sprawls out behind her onto the faded pink pillowcase. It was some ancient Disney princess pillow case from when you were like four, it had been to every cheer camp with you .

You swap your positions, now straddling Kate’s hips. She keeps laughing as you start kissing her neck.

“Wouldn’t be the first time I heard you call me that”

Kate is incredibly smug for someone who was under you. Confident gaze flitting over your body. How she found you attractive in that moment was above you. The faded competition shirt, the tattered boxers, the fact that you hadn’t showered. When you had packed for the week you didn’t intend on anyone that wasn’t Yelena seeing you in your pajamas. But you found yourself straddled on top of your arch enemy, core throbbing with want.

You kiss up her neck, sucking on her jaw. Kate’s hands tangle in your hair, yanking in the strands a little. She whines a little. You nip at her jaw a little following it with your tongue to soothe the blossoming hickey.

Kate arches her back upward, successfully colliding your chests and your crotches. You hiss into her neck, letting your head hang for a moment as she bumps into you, your clit colliding with the material of your boxers.

Kate takes note of the way you stutter on top of her.

“Feel good?” She gently gathers your hair in a free hand, pulling your head up slightly so you can meet her face. You flush. You were so tough a few moments ago, but now that Kate’s got you under her gaze you shrink down. Too embarrassed to admit that you wanted her to shove her fingers down your shorts again.

You can see the hickey bruising on her jawline. You hadn’t even thought about the consequences of doing that. You had just wanted to hear Kate make her pretty noises. You sit up, putting your hand over your mouth.

“Shit I’m sorry Kate” she looks at you confused, leaning up on her elbows.

“For what exactly?”

“I accidentally gave you a fucking hickey. I wasn’t even thinking about it” your hands are over your face. You really didn’t want to blow this whole thing you had going with Kate. After your conversation and actually getting to know her, you thought that even outside of a sexual relationship you might actually be able to be friends with her. But no matter what? Neither of you were ready to be in the public eye.

Kate sits up fully. You feel your body drag a little with hers as she crosses her legs under her. She takes your wrists, so incredibly gently. When you had embarrassingly enough imagined Kate Bishop in these scenarios before you thought she’d be cocky, mean, maybe even a little demeaning and rough.

But Kate Bishop is gentle.

Removing your hands from your face, Kate shakes her head at your a little once you meet eyes.

“It’s okay, really”

“Really?”

She nods her head and your stomach feels a bit better, the guilt eating away at you subsidizing for a moment.

“And besides, I’ve got concealer, no one will notice.”

She’s so nice to you. It’s shocking. After years of getting in each others faces and endless taunting, Kate is nice to you.

She leans into you, kissing your gently at first. But as her hands travel down your body, starting at your cheeks, and then your shoulders, to your breasts and downwards, she gets more aggressive. You rock your head with her, letting Kate dominate the kiss.

This wasn’t the rage filled make out sesh from the night prior, or the quickie in the locker room, something had changed between you.

Kate’s gently pushing you backwards so your head barely sits below the edge of the twin extra long mattress. You let her, sighing into her as your back touches down. Kate’s hands have found your hips, her fingers pulling lightly at the top of your boxers. You lift your hips just enough for Kate to pull them and your underwear down your thighs. You never take your mouth off of hers, sighing into her mouth as the air of the dorm hits your freshly exposed core.

Kate reassuringly places a hand on your hip, rubbing light circles on the warm skin there.

“You good?” She pulls away from you and meets your eyes. Her finger keeps rubbing at your hip. You swallow. You’re more than good. Never in your whole life had you thought you’d actually be civil with Kate, but here you are.

You nod.

“Words please. I’ve heard you be louder than that on the mat” Kate smiles, her teeth perfectly white and straight. You wonder if she had braces at some point.

You roll your eyes. As if she really needed you to say it, she had already had her fingers inside you that day.

“Yeah..I’m good” you whisper. Kate’s not happy with your answer, but it’s sufficient enough because she shimmies her way down to her stomach. Face eventually level with your cunt, which at this point is effectively soaked because of the stop and go make out sesh you guys had been locked in for the last 20 minutes or so. She wastes no time as she goes in, nose bumping your sensitive clit as she begins licking at you.

You jolt, a strangled moan breaking through your lips. Kate had not prepped you in the slightest so the sudden attention almost jump started your body.

You feel Kate smile into you as she reached a hand up to your breast and starts to knead at it. You moan again. Kate continues licking and sucking at your folds. The mixed sensations of Kate swapping between lickingg at your labia and sucking on your clit, along with kneading at your breast occasionally tweaking your nipple has you shamelessly moaning.

It’s almost like you’ve forgotten you’re at cheer camp, and you’re now a horny 16 year old hooking up with her first girlfriend in some beat up car.

You grow tired of the barrier that is your shirt between Kate and your skin. You begin to grasp at the hem of it. You arch your back to make it more easy to get the shirt off of you, in the process pushing your cunt even more into Kate’s face. She moans and swirls her tongue around your clit. You gasp, dropping the shirt from your grip to clasp your hand over your mouth in an effort to keep quiet.

Kate laughs at you and goes back to work.

Shaky hands finally grabbing onto the faded fabric and pulling it over your head. You throw it behind you and forcefully place Kate’s hand back on your tit. She tweaks your nipple again and you jump.

Kate looks up from her position between your legs, blue eyes clouded in thought and a smile still on her juice covered lips. You were close at this point. The extra stimulation to your breast was what you needed as you rut against Kate’s face.

You’re about to announce to Kate that you’re close to finishing when she stops.

“Kate I was about to fini-“

She shushes you, quickly sitting up. You’re about to protest again until Kate begins to pull off her own shirt. You close your mouth and stare. Respectfully of course. But you think to yourself that she has the prettiest boobs you’ve ever seen. Kate catches you staring as she throws her shirt towards where yours landed behind you.

“ you like the view?”

“Uh no” you lie. Admitting it was too embarrassing. She leans forward and kisses you. You sit up, leaning into Kate. While kissing you, Kate begins to shimmy her way out of her own shorts, leaving her them along with her underwear discarded on the opposite end of the bed .

She pulls away from you. You had seen her naked before. But this time was different. That was you two fucking out your feelings for each other. Whatever this was, you couldn’t put your finger on it but it wasn’t that.

You take Kate’s naked form in as she props your right leg up and slings it over her shoulder. She hovers her own cunt over yours, her own right leg going over your left.

“Kate what are you doing?”

“God I’ve been waiting to find the right girl to try this with” her eyes are on where your cunts almost collide. Her chest is heaving, blue eyes blown with her dark curls falling over her shoulder again. Her tone is deep and filled with lust. You’re about to lean forward to brush her hair off her shoulder again when she she essentially sits down on your center, her swollen clit catching on yours. The raw sensation of your overly sensitive bud colliding with Kate’s warmth sends your back towards the mattress again.

You see stars. When you had heard your friends talk about seeing stars during sex you thought they were joking but having Kate Bishop sit her own pussy against yours was what officially broke you.

That was, until she started moving.

Kate begins to grind herself against you, sending your body up and down with every thrust of her hips. You’re silently screaming as she does so. You have to put your own hand in your mouth to keep any sounds from escaping. Kate’s panting, her thick brows furrowed as sweat drips from her hairline inbetween them. She’s reaching for your tits as she continues to thrust into you.

Sweat drips down your own back and inbetween your asscheeks, eventually ending on the fitted sheet beneath you that seemed to slip farther off the mattress with every one of Kate’s thrusts. Kate’s moaning above you. Her heads thrown back as she squeezes your boobs, using them to anchor herself into her motions.

“Jesus Christ Kate” you whine. Your hands are reaching anywhere. You need something to bring you back down to earth. The feeling of Kate against you is so raw and intoxicating you can’t help but feel like this is a dream. Some insanely perverted dream. You would’ve continued to think it was a dream, until Kate herself whines from above you.

Her clit catching on yours causing her hips to stutter. Your breath catches in your throat at this, which is a sign for Kate to pick up her pace. She leaves marks on your tits as she pounds into you. Red crescent marks framing your nipples from her dull nails pressing into the supple skin there. You plant the one foot on the mattress and begin to meet her thrusts, frantically humping into the air in an effort to meet your climax.

With each thrust your clits kiss and elicit a high pitched whine or moan from you both. At this point you didn’t care who heard you, you wanted to cum. You wanted Kate Bishop to make you come.

“God you’re doing so good” Kate mumbles, her rhythm faltering. She plants a kiss on your ankle. Your cunt flutters around nothing at her praise and sudden affection. Your release is approaching faster than you’d like it to. Kate teasing you earlier hasn’t done you any favors.

Before you’d like it to, your body tenses up, hips off the mattress and you cum. Your calves clench, your ass clenches and so do your eyes. Your whole body goes limp under Kate as she continues to rut into you, desperately trying to finish herself. You shake as she does so, beginning to feel over stimulated every time her clit bumps against yours. You’re about to push her off when she moans quietly and her hips stutter to a halt.

She looks down at you as she catches her breath. Waiting a moment before she removes your leg from her shoulder, you wince at the feeling. On top of being sore from the days work, your hip is now sore from being locked in that position for god knows how long Kate had you there. She’s gentle with you, guiding your leg back down onto the mattress before lifting herself of of you.

The sound of your mixed release sends shivers down your spine and you both wince at the lack of each other’s presence. Kate brushes some hair out of your eyes and leans down again to kiss you. You reciprocate as you sit up, wincing with every adjustment because you were so sore.

“You did really good..I really meant that” Kate says between a whisper and her usual speaking voice. She’s avoiding your eyes again, back to the shy girl who had came into your room a few hours again. Kate traces a circle in your thigh, eyes focused on that.

“Thanks” you say through a smile. “You were pretty good too. I mean that was…” you take her hand in yours, you now rubbing circles on the top of her hand.

“Yeah..it was.”

Kate looks towards the door, then to where her shirt was behind you, and then towards her shorts at the other end of the bed.

“Well I should..” she begins to move to go collect her clothes, getting one foot onto the cool flooring.

“Stay..” you reach for her. You’re not sure what came over you, but you want her to stay. Genuinely. Not even for more sex. Just to lay with her, run your nails up and down her arms. To count the freckles on her body.

“Please stay..” it was your turn to beg tonight. At first you can’t read Kate’s expression. Her lips are slightly downturned into a pout and her head leans to the side. She almost looks confused. The corners of her mouth slowly turn upwards into a smirk and her cheeks flush. She quickly gets up, running across the room to turn the light off, and then jumps back into your bed, her head back on your old Disney princess pillow. She holds her arms out for you to join her.

Kate stays the night.

»-------------¤-------------«

DARRRRRLINGGGGG, GUESS WHOS BACK FROL JAIIIIILLLL

No but for real this took forever and I apologize for that, but I’m actually like, really proud of it?? Something about taking my time to really work on the quality of it was really refreshing.

This IS NOT the last part, but I do think part 5 will be. This concept has been so fun to write, but I’ve got a fic on my other blog I’ve been neglecting even worse than this one.

Mwah mwah mwah love you all so much ✨🏹

»-------------¤-------------«

[sgiandubh]

Business, as usual

Formula 1 week-end with a new, 22 year old and Scottish conquest?

In *urv's head - her sock accounts made frantically the rounds again, all week-end long, amending her bullshit on the go, trying to spy, finding nothing. Whatever it takes, even the utmost ridicule, to remain relevant.

The 'conquest':

Underdog profile, associated with the Aston Martin Academy. So, it is only normal for her to post the following story:

A normal side event for the tournament she's been a very active part of for days, now:

Meanwhile, S posts something from the same event, obviously thanking a friendly event organizing company, Twist London, for serving (and promoting) his booze:

S, Norouzi and the Twist London people know each other well, it would seem. But hey, never let business truth get in the way of a *urv #parochial fanfic:

How does that prove anything else than a very attractive young athlete being three feet away from a bar serving S's booze is just beyond me. *urv's posse of hypocrite, ageing women should really, really be ashamed of themselves.

And since we are debunking things, let me add something about the Foul-Mouthed June Brunette. You thought, as I did (guilty as charged, always), that she was found on Raya?

Oh, no. Think twice and so long for #sources, #timelines and other baker's dozen trolls.

As it was very judiciously pointed out before, S's own hospitality business network can be a very useful, ready made solution for PR blunders.

Because look who Panikian tagged, a couple of days ago, just as she was landing in Portugal:

Melissa Wood Tepperberg. She was busy in the Hamptons, with the usual nouveau riche weekend entertainment spree, but she is a friend and probably a role model, in her world.

Incidentally, she is also this guy's wife:

He is also very friendly to her and seems to closely follow her shenanigans:

Link to S? Oh, for sure - remember August 11, 2022? When things were dramatic, somewhere in Ireland?

And when time and cover-up were of the essence?

I rest my case. There is strictly nothing organic about June Brunette. A short lived summer stunt, who came around with a bang and went away with a fizz.

PS: Mulțumesc frumos - știi tu... 😘😘

[octuscle]

New team member

The snowfall got heavier and heavier. Charles had expected anything, but not a snowstorm like this. It was early September. The weather forecast had mentioned precipitation and unusually low temperatures. But there had been no mention of snow. Almost everyone on the country road had summer tires. After a few minutes, the few cars that were still on the road that late were criss-crossing the road. And the snowfall became heavier and heavier. The next town was within sight. One by one, the snow-covered drivers began to leave their cars and fight their way through the snowdrifts towards the lights. Charles had only his suit and a light summer coat. He had hoped for help. It was getting colder and colder in the car. Finally, Charles also made the decision to look for help.

Fighting his way through the heavy and wet snow was more strenuous than he had expected. Charles was not particularly athletic. He was in his late 50s and a little overweight. The snowflakes melted on his bald head. He could almost touch the sports hall on the edge of town when one of his loafers got lost in the snow. There was a lot of activity inside. The local Red Cross had set up an emergency camp. Outside the door was a bus with a high school soccer team that had been on its way to a tournament. The young lads were kicking a ball in an empty corner of the hall. A few kids were playing on gym mats. Someone gave Charles a hot cup of tea. He asked for dry clothes. A young man, who was probably the coach of the soccer team, gave him a tracksuit. It was far too tight, but it was dry. Charles thanked him. He was dead tired. He was assigned a cot with a chair next to it where he could put his wet clothes. Someone from the soccer team had lent him a pair of adidas flip-flops. Even though he was ashamed of his paunch, Charles took off his sweat jacket and lay down under the scratchy woollen blanket wearing only his sweat pants. He didn't care about anything. He was dry, he was warm. And he was tired. Incredibly tired!

When Charles woke up at some point in the night, only the emergency lighting in the hall was on. It smelled of many unshowered people, of wet dog. And the chorus of snoring people filled the air. But that wasn't why Charles had woken up. He had a hard-on. An incredibly hard boner. He couldn't remember when it had been so hard. And the beast between his legs was enormous. He began to wank, moaning quietly with pleasure. Yes, he was in the middle of an emergency shelter. Dozens of strangers around him. But he was so horny. His cock needed to be worked on. In the semi-darkness next to him, Charles saw a man get up from his cot. "Chuck, you bloody bastard, let me do it!" Charles heard a voice say. One of the footballers pulled the comforter away and began to skillfully suck Charles' boner and balls. He found it difficult not to roar with pleasure. He had no idea how much he was blowing into the young man's face. But after he had come, he fell back into bed, his naked upper body soaked with sweat.

When Charles woke up, life had come into the makeshift dormitory. The coach shouted for his boys to get up, the snow had stopped, the roads had been cleared and they would be on their way in fifteen minutes. Charles wanted to wait and see. Then he could get ready in peace and set off in search of his car. He reached for his clothes to feel if they were dry. But he couldn't feel his suit and coat. He looked at the chair. A T-shirt, the sweat jacket, a jockstrap, a pair of dirty white socks lay over the backrest. On the floor was a sports bag with a soccer shirt, shorts and shoes. A cell phone. Headphones. Everything in a hopeless mess. "Does my center forward need a separate invitation, or are you going to get ready too, Chuck?" Charles heard a voice above him. Charles looked up questioningly. The coach yelled at him to get his lazy ass to the washrooms, the bus was leaving in ten minutes.

Charles grabbed the t-shirt, slipped on his flip-flops and headed towards the boys changing rooms. The smell was so familiar to Charles. Sweat and testosterone. This was the place where boys' chests slapped together after a victory in chest bumps. The place where he won every cock comparison. He scratched his best piece. He was getting hard again. From outside, he heard the coach yelling for him. His cell phone vibrated. While he pulled the device out of his pocket with one hand, he smelled it with the other. Sweat, cum and smegma. His scent, his trademark.

His mother asked if everything was all right. She was worried. Chuck took a photo and sent it with the text "Your son will make you proud today". From outside he heard a "If you're not on the bus in two minutes, you're on the bench for the next three games." Chuck knew that was an empty threat. He was the star of the team. Without him, they wouldn't be able to win. But you shouldn't mess around with a coach. So he pissed quickly, pulled his T-shirt over his lean body and gathered his things. "One minute, forty seconds," he said with a grin as he got on the bus. Coach playfully punched him in the chest. The bus started moving in mountains of slush. Chuck would take another nap during the ride. And afterward, he and his boys would bomb the opposing team off the field.

Chuck's pic found @milankotowyc

[prettyboykatsuki]

miss faNGGGGG!!! MISSS !!!! FANGGGGG!!!!!! please spare some thoughts on brothers best friend oliver 🧎‍♀️im on my knees. cz like i think hed get a thrill out of the indecency of it and maybe sendo would deem you off limits cz you’re too “clean” for a guy like oliver and itd only fuel him harder…

SDJLFJDFLK g*d. i hate this guy.

i think.... with sendo.... you guys are like total opposites. sendo grows up as like.. the perfect athlete jock type son. super popular and stuff.

i know you say clean here but in my mind im imagining ur sort of alternative u just keep to yourself to yourself a lot you know.... like bear with me but because sendo is so in the spotlight u sort of develop your own thing and tend to have your own individual style. very Different i suppose. you're a little weird and otherwise super straight-laced. got bullied for being different at one point or another but found a few close friends in school etc

sendo is sendo so he's always been super popular. u drifted apart when he played soccer more and so while u know of oliver u dont rlly get to know him until he's already a slut lol. sendo tells oliver that u probably wont be his type (not to be an asshole but u are not usually like who he dates) and to not be around you in general.

oliver sort of assumes that u have some experience though. like you have a certain look and style of dress that makes u stand out. so imagine his shock and surprise when he tries talking to you and you're kind of meek. you're like super doe-eyed which makes it even worse. and olivers like. oh. i have to make it my lifes mission to fuck this kid.

and so he starts coming over and texting you a lot. you're . so naive. which makes sense considering all that sendo has told you. but he really gets off on just how easily you seem to trust him. guys lie you know? don't you have any sense of danger. but guys have never been interested in you and you don't think oliver is either.

you guys meet on accident in a 7/11 near your house once and he sort of. jumps on the chance to be alone with you. you just make it way too easy. like way way way too easy. he doesn't even have to get you drunk he just asks if you have any kissing experience and then asks if he can kiss you when you say no. and you're like oh i mean. i guess. and you're super clumsy and it gives him a weird boner.

you lose your virginity in an alleyway and in the filthiest way possible. no condom either. baggy hoodie stuffed into your mouth, basketball shorts down at your ankles, socked feet pushed up out of your sandals and your hands on the wall with oliver fucking you in public - squirt and cum running down the inside of your thigh. he's fucking you hard too, no mercy just his hands on his hips while he moans about how good your pussy feels around his dick

he's kinda horrible because he keeps teasing you the entire time. and then when you give him a fucked out look over your shoulder and ask if you can kiss again he nearly cums right there.

you're like drooling and your thighs are trembling. you nearly fall down in the middle of it because your legs are so weak. he ends up taking you home after the first round and fucking you some more after that.

weirdly i do think oliver in this scenario ends up dating you in secret. he gets off way more on your sex innocent reactions and hiding it than he thought. sendoes gonna fucking kill him later but well, it's not his fault you make such a noise when he fucks you face down ass up yk

[read-write-thrive]

edwina / edith in her lingerie as inspired by @hannaloony and @arisprite ‘s fanart !!! this one’s on the simpler side but I’m planning to do a companion piece with charlotte (and might do more with the backgrounds to really sell the whole “getting ready in their respective eras” thing, not sure yet) and hopefully doing something a little more suggestive with the both of them, again inspired by @hannaloony ‘s piece but using my own interpretations of fem!payneland w/ butch!edwina and fem!charlotte bc i love them

(side note: I know everyone is using Edith and not Edwina but I think Edwina suits my interpretation better for some reason ?? something about ppl hearing “Edwina and Charlie” and getting jumpscared when Edwina is the butch is funny to me,,, still undecided if she uses any nicknames but I’m open to suggestions lol)

previous artwork I’ve done of these characters can be found here: part one (original duo piece) ; part two (alt outfit for Edwina, Edwina sketches)

notes on the costuming choices for anyone interested:

- i specifically designed these undergarments to work under either of the outfits I’ve given her so far!!

- I decided on combinations as her base layer as they were seen as younger/more casual/athletic, all of which im aiming for with this design. technically these are probably too plain for the era, especially if she was attending a girl's college/finishing school where sewing and adorning and the like would have been taught, but I wanted to keep the masculine energy so I figured some ruffly hems and blue ribbon was a good enough middle ground

- the color palette is inspired by several reproductions I’ve seen online as well as keeping with Edwin’s blue color motif/existing palette

- researching the corset took AGES so here’s a rundown: I wanted it to keep with the casual/sportswear look so I went with a sports corset, meaning it wouldn’t have any hard boning (it was just the hella reinforced material without the actual bones/metal), would have elastic at the sides, and would most likely be an overbust corset despite that not being the trend during the Edwardian era (for the most part/to my knowledge). the examples I was inspired by of sports corsets technically didn’t have visible garters, but literally every other corset I saw did and I can't imagine why sports corsets would have to have the more impractical thigh garters ??? surely you also want to keep your stockings up when running around ??? so I gave them to her anyway

- im keeping the socks/stockings the same as my other illustrations but honestly i struggled to find similar historical examples :/ surely someone at some point wore some heavy duty knit stockings, but maybe my idea of knit is just different from how knit garments, especially socks, were in the era ? regardless im keeping them like this, especially since Charlotte has pantyhose on and I feel like silk/cotton stockings would look too similar

- i went back and forth on a corset cover, but ultimately went without one bc 1. it gave me a more interesting way to pose her lol and 2. i couldn't tell if corset covers (and similar garments that went over top what we have here) would have been worn with athletic attire ? like I have her in bloomers in both of her outfits thus far so I figured no petticoat or slip, but early brassieres/corset covers/bust improvers/etc are just a big ??? from me

- a note on her hair: so if you look at all three of my illustrations of her you’ll see that her hair is totally consistent and while I can try to say that’s intentional it’s really just bc I keep going back and forth on little details about it. for example, in the first illustration her ears are completely exposed vs in the second they’re mostly covered—the exposed ears read as more butch to me but also would’ve been pretty inappropriate and I wasn’t sure if that’s an area would Edwina would rock the boat too much, hence me going back on it in the second illustration. also, I’ve gone back and forth several times before on it her hair is actually cut short or if it’s worn in a faux/“nervous” bob (which I just learned that name for lmao). on one hand, having it actually cut short is 100% more butch and leans into the practical/athletic vibes. on the other hand, it would be a drastic move for a repressed, bullied, 16 year old at an all-girls school to pull, plus it would put her ahead of the trend by several years. in the end, I think of it this way: the Edwin that we meet reads as effeminate to a modern audience, but 80% of that is through mannerisms, not direct costuming, and even what we do get from costuming is skewed bc we are a modern audience perceiving an Edwardian subject. so I figured sticking Edwina with traits she could wear as either masc or fem but chooses to wear bin a more masculine style would shorthand that sort of how-you-wear-it approach to gnc (plus I’ve been there done that when closeted so it felt extra fitting)

- that whole rant aside: I went with the faux bob but, in the name of her being in the process of getting ready, wanted to show it in a half-done state that we would never see Edwina in otherwise ! the idea with the undone side is that she’s taken out the rags she wore her curls in overnight (I don’t see her using heat but if she did it would be before this) but only tucked half up before putting her corset on. is that the actual order of how you would/should do this? fuck if I know. I also am not 100% certain if the curl pattern/hair density is accurate between one side of her head and the other, but without an exact reference this is the best you’re getting

- speaking of things being out of order, I do know that if you’re deciding to don a corset anytime soon, it’s best to put your shoes on beforehand! especially if they’re lace-up boots like our girl here wears, as bending over in a corset to tie them is not fun. thankfully, she’s in a sports corset so it wouldn’t be too bad, plus she has to step into her bloomers so I figured keep her in her socks was the right choice

- there’s a halfhearted attempt at a background here with some dark wood panelling and red/orange/brown tones thats honestly just me wanting some contrast/interest while also keeping it simple. we'll see if i do anything more complicated than that anytime soon lmao, these pieces take long enough as is !!

hopefully tumblr doesn’t fuck up the cut (again) so not everyone has to read all of this, but tysm to those of you who do!! I put a lot of thought and research into these pieces and love sharing what info I find so feel free to talk to me about any and all of it !!!! and hope you enjoyed ofc

[goldenseresinretriever]

False Confidence: Chapter 10

Pairing: Javy “Coyote” Machado x Reader

Part of the San Diego Dogfighters universe

Summary: The Athletic named Javy Machado the fifth sluttiest player in the NHL last year. He’s a known playboy who leaves every game with a different girl. As far as he’s concerned he’s living the dream, playing his dream job with the dream lifestyle. Unfortunately his friends and bosses don’t agree. At 33, they think it’s time for him to settle down. You’re a kindergarten teacher at an esteemed private school. You don't expect much when you finally accept your colleague’s invitation to attend her husband’s hockey game but when you accidentally get separated in the post-game rush, you find yourself in a compromising situation with the last person you’d ever expected to meet. When his PR rep suggests a mutually beneficial agreement, your hands are tied. How long will you have to keep up the act? And how long will you be able to?

Series CW: 18+ ONLY, swearing, angst, fluff, fake relationship, suggestive language, anxiety, school system inaccuracies, hockey inaccuracies etc. There will be individual chapter warnings. No use of Y/N.

Word Count: 5.6k

A/N: This might be my favorite chapter I’ve written so far 👀

Previous Chapter // Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

“What type of flowers do girls like?” A burst of raucous laughter crackles through the speaker of his phone and Javy glares at the screen as he rifles through his dresser, looking for a clean pair of socks. The woman on the screen slumps over the wooden counter she’s sitting at, tears in her eyes as she keeps laughing and Javy rolls his eyes. “Isa, I’m being serious.”

“I know!” The woman looks up from where she’s sprawled over the counter, wiping tears from her eyes as she shakes her head at him. “That’s the best part!” Javy flips his oldest sister off as he puts his hands on his hips.

“Come on, Isa, help me out here!” He considers hanging up on her, but he really needs her help. She turns her head to make eye contact with the camera, still sprawled across the counter. The look in her eyes is a combination of mirth with a sharp glint of something dangerous and Javy swallows nervously because she looks so damn much like their mother right now.

“Tell me what’s really going on, Javier, and then maybe I’ll help.” Her voice is dripping with danger that urges him not to push her but dammit he doesn’t have time for this. He’s supposed to pick you up in an hour and he doesn’t want to be late. His mother raised him better than that.

“I have a date. I feel like I should get her flowers.” He blatantly ignores the way his heart starts pounding as the four-letter word passes his lips and focuses on the cool glare his sister is angling at him as she sits back up.

“With the girl you’re dating?” Javy’s brow furrows in confusion before it hits him. Fuck.

“Isa… Isa I can explain,” he stammers but the look he gets from her has him snapping his mouth shut so fast that he swears his teeth rattle.

“Javier Antonio Machado… you were raised by not one but FOUR women and we have to find out you have a GIRLFRIEND from the MEDIA?!” Javy flinches. A heavy silence falls between them before Javy dares open his mouth.

“It’s not that simple Isa, it’s complicated. She’s not technically my girlfriend, well she is, but that’s only on paper, she just…” He hesitates and watches his sister’s suspicious eyes narrow so he plows on. “We’refakedating.” The words rush out before he can avoid them and he watches Isa’s eyes widen and he keeps going before she can stop him. “We’re fake dating but turns out she’s actually really nice, and I think I like her, but I’m not sure because I’ve never liked anyone like this before. I don’t want her to get hurt, least of all by me, but it’s probably inevitable, and I’m really trying not to think about that right now so I’m taking her out on a date because I think she’ll like it and I want her to like it so I was thinking I should buy her flowers but I’ve never bought flowers before, I mean I have once but those were just from the grocery store and I didn’t really think about it, and this time I am thinking about it and that’s why I’m asking WHAT KIND OF FLOWERS DO GIRLS LIKE!” His chest is heaving by the time he finishes and he can hear his heartbeat in his ears. For once his sister doesn’t say anything and he feels ridiculous, standing there like he’s just run a marathon staring at her staring at him.

“Do you know her favorite color?” Isa says finally and Javy blinks a few times before he realizes she’s asked him a question. He shakes his head even as guilt bites at his stomach for never asking. She purses her lips in thought as she looks around her at the rows of pots and various greenery. “Well then, let’s get to work, shall we?” Javy lets his shoulders slump in relief as he nods nervously at his sister as she picks up the phone and starts walking around the store.

***

“Roadie these are really good!” You look away from the bathroom mirror where you’re putting the finishing touches on your hair. Unlike last time, you’ve gone as simple as possible. The green dress is elegant and you’ve elected for your usual light makeup, except for the slight dusting of gold Nat tastefully brushed on your eyelids. As you shyly regard your reflection you can’t help but feel beautiful.

You follow the sound of Nat’s voice to your living room where she’s examining the various canvases leaning against the walls. The space isn’t traditional in any sense, lacking any entertaining furniture such as sofas and chairs. Instead, you’ve repurposed the space into a makeshift studio, the space taken up with easels and tables, canvases leaning against anything and everything in various states of completion. It’s a little chaotic but it works for you. Truth be told, you’ve had more people visit in the last month than in the last three years.

Earlier, you’d stared at your phone while sitting on your bed, brow furrowing as you hesitated over who to call. Normally, Josie would be the obvious choice, but normally she’d be the only choice since you didn’t have any other friends. Tonight, however, you were faced with the possibility of options, your phone feeling heavy with the weight of all the new numbers you’ve been collecting. You could still taste the bitterness in the back of your throat after Josie had dressed you for your last date with Javy and how you’d had to explain to her afterward why her thousand-dollar heels were somewhere at the bottom of the bay. Before you could overthink your decision, you’d called Nat, inviting her over to help you get ready for your date.

To your surprise, you’ve become comfortable around her. She knows Javy, and slowly but surely she’s getting to know you, and as much as you love Josie, you can tell how much animosity she harbors for Javy. With every day that passes, you’re realizing that somehow you’ve started falling for Javy and while you’re terrified of the realization, you’re even more terrified of how Josie will react to it. Nat, however, you don’t mind. She’s only ever known you as Javy’s fake girlfriend, so if she’s going to judge you over any of your choices, it’s that, and she’s already made it clear that she doesn’t.

You make your way over to see which canvas Nat is looking at and your cheeks heat as it comes into view. The canvas is covered in swathes of dark shades of blue, silhouetting the shapes of the edge of the cliff and the roiling water at the bottom. The background is so fierce and dark that it draws attention from the tiny figures in the corner at the edge, curled around each other. You don’t normally find yourself painting scenes from your life, but something about the salt in your lungs, and the way the wind whipped around you as you became aware of your body like a live wire, has been stuck in your throat every since so you’d let the feeling pour out of you onto the canvas. You had meant for it to be a landscape, but the figures in the corner, light bluish-gray forms with no defining features, had seemingly painted themselves, flowing out of your brush before you could stop them.

“Thanks,” you murmur and Nat turns from the canvas to you, smiling.

“I mean it, Roadie. The world deserves to see them.” You squirm with embarrassment under the compliment but manage to find your words.

“I actually, I have my first gallery show next week,” you splutter. You haven’t told anyone, despite jumping and dancing around your living room when you received the news. You’ve dreamed of having your art shown at a gallery for years, a dream you’d thought was out of reach for the time being until you’d gotten the call earlier this week. “It’s not much, just a pop-up event for one night, but it’s something.” It’s everything. Nat blinks at you for a long second before she screams and jumps up, almost knocking over the easel in her excitement and she wraps you tightly in a hug, jumping up and down and you can’t help but join in.

“Oh, Roadie! That’s amazing, congratulations!” She squeezes you tightly and you try to force down the tears welling up in your eyes at Nat’s enthusiasm, trying not to ruin the makeup you’ve just finished. “You have to give me the info so I can swing by!” You freeze, surprised at the offer. You hadn’t even considered that anyone would actually want to come.

“But, but you’ve seen everything already,” you wave a hand at the room around you. She looks at you like you’re crazy.

“I mean yeah, but I haven’t seen them all hung up! Plus, I want to come see YOU, silly! This is huge, we have to celebrate!” You swallow hard as your lip begins to wobble and Nat’s eyes soften as she pulls you back into a hug. “Hey, it’s okay, that’s what friends do, okay? We support each other, we cry together during the losses, and we celebrate the wins no matter how big or small. I’m so proud of you, Roadie and I hope you can be proud of you too.” You nod into Nat’s shoulder, sniffling as you try to hold back overwhelmed tears. When she pulls away, she motions for you to stay still while she disappears into your bedroom, coming back with a tissue that she carefully uses to dab at your wet eyes, making sure not to smudge your makeup. “One more thing,” she digs into her pocket before she shows you a clear tube and when you frown at it in confusion she unwraps the packaging before carefully applying the clear gloss to your lips. “There we go, subtle but has the perfect amount of zing.” She holds up her phone camera for you to examine the way your lips shine with the clear gloss. She’s right, it’s subtle, not tinted, but it makes your lips look for lack of a better word, juicy. It feels sexy while being simple and it[‘s your turn to hug Nat.

“It’s perfect, thank you, Nat.” She squeezes you back before letting you go and pressing the small tube into your hands.

“Just so you know?” She says with a fond smile. “I’m rooting for the two of you.” You feel your cheeks heat at her words and you surprise yourself when your next words come out.

“Yeah, me too.” Before she can reply your doorbell buzzes and your head jerks towards the door as your eyes widen. Javy’s here.

“Go get him, tiger,” Nat says as she pushes you towards the door, gently and you shuffle over, stopping to bend over and step into your shoes for the evening. Another product of your and Nat’s shopping spree, they’re simple wedges that provide good support and are much shorter than the shoes Josie lent you.

You unlock the door with shaking hands and the sight on the other side steals your breath. You’ve seen Javy in a suit multiple times before, from the day you met, to your first date, and then yesterday at the game, but the sight of him in a full tuxedo has your heart skipping a few beats. The tuxedo is a simple black but the sight of his crisp dress shirt buttoned to his throat, complete with a black bow tie has him looking more handsome than the sexy that his usual style tends to lean towards. You’re so busy ogling him that you don’t see the flowers at first but your breath catches as your eyes find the brilliant orange flowers. You reach out a shocked hand to trace the curves of the tiger lily blossoms as you try to ignore the voice in your head screaming that you have their pink cousins currently wilting on your kitchen table after you’d excitedly purchased them for yourself last week.

“Hi,” Javy says and his voice is so soft you almost convince yourself that he’s as out of breath as you are.

“Hi,” your voice is breathy as you finally tear your eyes away from the flowers back to his face. “Tiger lilies,” you whisper like it’s a question and he looks down at the flowers like he’s just remembering he’s holding them.

“They reminded me of you,” he says to the flowers before he looks back to you, and your brow furrows in confusion. The blooms are bright and bold, shaped like trumpets that announce their presence, nothing like you. “They’re delicate and shy,” he runs a finger along a bloom that’s slumped over slightly, “but they’re also bright and full of life.” He gives you a gentle lopsided smile that almost knocks you over. Even so simple and small, it feels like you’ve been hit by a sunbeam and you can’t help the way you smile back.

“Thank you, Javy, they’re beautiful, I love them.” You reach for them and as he hands them to you, you realize they’re in a vase already.

“My sister, she runs a flower shop, and she said if you should get a proper bouquet made so whoever you’re buying the flowers for gets a gift instead of a chore, or something like that.” He scratches the back of his neck with his now-empty hand.

Before you can answer, the door opens wider and Nat appears. “Well look at you, who knew you clean up so nice? I’m gonna head out so you guys can be on your way, but I’ll take those first.” She takes the vase from you and heads back inside as Javy gapes after her.

“Sorry, I invited her over to help me get ready-” Javy turns back to you, shaking his head.

“No, no, that’s fine, great even.” He pauses before thoughtfully adding, “She needs more friends.”

“JAVY MACHADO I HEARD THAT!” Nat yells from inside the house before she emerges, glaring at him. “Fuck you, too.” She says flashing the finger at him before stomping past the two of you and heading for the parking lot. Javy sticks his tongue out after her. “Have fun, you two, and Javy if you do anything stupid, I’m calling your mom!” She calls and you watch Javy blanche slightly at her words before he turns back to you. You watch the worry slide from his face as he looks at you.

“I know I’ve already seen you in the dress, but you look beautiful, Meep.” Your cheeks heat at his compliment. He offers you his hand and you take it without a second thought, letting him lead you down to the parking lot. When you reach his car you frown in confusion as he opens the passenger door of the Land Rover.

“Where’s your car?” You ask as he helps you into the passenger seat. Javy looks like a deer caught in the headlights as he answers.

“I, uh, thought we could just go out tonight. Just us, no press or anything.” You feel your cheeks heat to match the way his have to be.

“Oh,” you whisper.

“If that’s okay with you, I mean,” he stammers awkwardly. You consider his words. He’s giving you an out if you want it. This isn’t a part of the contract, and you both know that. And yet you don’t want to get out of the car.

“Yeah, that’s okay with me, Javy.” You try not to focus on the way relief transforms his face as he grins at you before closing the door and jogging around to the driver’s side.

***

Your eyes are wide as Javy hands his keys to the valet in front of a gallery that you recognize the name of. You’ve never visited but the artist’s name emblazoned on the banners outside makes you slightly dizzy. Javy offers you his arm and you take it before turning to question him. “Javy, what are we doing here?” You whisper urgently as he leads you inside and towards a table where a woman with a clipboard is seated. He ignores your question to address the woman.

“Machado, party of two.” He says, flashing a polite smile at the woman and she blinks at him in surprise before she checks the list on her clipboard and gives him a saccharine smile as she hands him a pair of paddles that catch your attention as Javy pulls you closer and you look up at him, surprised before you catch the predatory gleam in the woman’s eyes and the way Javy’s gone rigid against you. You curl against him, silently reassuring him with a squeeze of his arm. You feel him relax at your touch and then he turns away from her.

You reach for his hand, fingers brushing as you take the paddles from his hand, examining the numbers on them as Javy silently leads you to a pair of double doors and into a big room. There are tables around the room and a stage at the front with a podium. He leads you to a table that’s currently empty as people are still arriving. When you sit he finally turns to you, and you see exhausted frustration in his eyes and you reach out, placing a green-painted fingertip against his lips. “It’s okay, it’s going to be okay,” you whisper and his shoulders relax. You watch his lips pucker slightly in what could be construed as a kiss to your finger. You withdraw it and reach for his hand, squeezing it in yours. “Don’t let her ruin our night,” you remind him and he nods. In an attempt to take his mind off it, you gesture to the room. “Are you going to tell me what you’re doing here?” You ask.

He surprises you by leaning his forehead against the side of your head as you glance around the room. “Come on smart girl, you tell me,” he says and you hope he can’t hear the way your heartbeat is in your ears. You reach for the paddles he’s set on the table, turning one in your hand thoughtfully.

“An auction?” You ask, cursing the way your voice shakes in nervous excitement. He nods against your head before he straightens.

“Attagirl, I thought it might be something you’d be interested in,” he explains and your heart flutters in response. “Have you ever been to an art auction, before?” He asks and you shake your head.

“I can barely afford to make my own art let alone buy anyone else’s,” you admit before you can stop yourself and you cringe in embarrassment.

“Well that’s what I’m here for,” he watches your eyes widen in surprise and your mouth open to argue but he shakes his head. “My treat, if you see something you love, let me know. Plus, I need some pieces for my apartment, and I want to get something for my mom. I don’t really have a great eye for this kind of thing, so I figured I’d ask a professional,” he tips his head in your direction and you feel your cheeks warm. “You’ve seen my place, let me know if you see something that’ll look good there.” You nod, dizzy at the prospect of Javy valuing your opinion enough to want it.

“Okay,” you relent and the grin Javy turns on you may be worth more than all the art that’s going to be sold tonight.

***

“Javy,” you hiss as he raises his paddle, brow furrowed as he glares at a little old lady whose paddle is also up. The painting currently up for auction is a gorgeous modern impressionistic take on a rainy night in the French Quarter and the moment Javy had set his eyes on it, you’d seen the adoration and nostalgia in his eyes. It’s gorgeous and you think it’ll make the perfect centerpiece for his living room and you told him as much, but things have quickly spiraled out of hand.

“$30,000” the old lady exclaims indignantly and you feel sick to your stomach.

“$35,000” Javy retorts, and your eyes threaten to bug out of your face.

“$38,000” the old lady aims a sharp glare back at you and Javy.

“$50,000” Javy’s voice is almost lazy and you gape at him as he shrugs and smirks at the old lady who’s gone white as a sheet.

“$50,000 from the young man in the back. $50,000, going once,” The auctioneer calls, looking impressed. Javy arches a challenging eyebrow at the old lady who’s gaping at him. “$50,000, going twice,” Javy gives the old lady a nonchalant shrug. “Sold to the young man in the back for $50,000.” He finally turns to you and you’re still gaping at him.

“$50,000?!” You squeak at him and he shrugs.

“You said, and I quote, ‘It’s beautiful, and it would be like having a piece of home in your apartment and it would make the perfect centerpiece for the living room,’ and I remember telling you I trust your judgment.” You shake your head at him in disbelief.

“Not for $50,000!” You hiss and he rolls his eyes.

“I thought you believed in supporting artists,” he says, arching an eyebrow at you and you throw up your hands in exasperation. He leans in then, whispering so only you can hear. “You know if you let me see yours, I’d bet it’s worth a lot more than $50,000,” you roll your eyes even as heat creeps up your cheeks. Your art isn’t worth that much. You’re not so self-deprecating that you don’t think your art is good. It is, but it’s definitely not worth anything financially, especially since that’s not why you make it in the first place. Your art is a creative outlet, a way for you to process emotions that are too big for yourself, the words you can't bring yourself to say, a way for you to scream without saying a word.

You’re saved from retorting by the reveal of the next painting and your breath catches as the assistant steps away from the painting he’s just placed on the display easel. It’s a simple landscape at first glance, but the colors are what take your breath away. It’s a sunset over the bay, the cliffs beautifully silhouetted in shadows and you’re reminded of the view from Javy’s car on the way here tonight as the sun progressively sunk to the horizon. The flurry of oranges, purples, pinks, and blues, feels so perfect that you almost wish you’d painted it yourself. You almost don’t hear the auctioneer as he confirms the first bid until your ears catch the end of it. “...from the young man in the back,” you turn to Javy, lips parting in surprise as you catch him looking at you a fond smile on his face that he quickly schools.

“Javy,” your voice is a whisper but he just shakes his head gently as he turns back to the auction and counteroffers as bids come in from across the room. You have to excuse yourself, looking for the bathroom as the tears rise unbidden to your eyes. You dab carefully at your eyes as you stand in front of the mirror and try not to think about how Javy is currently spending thousands of dollars on you. You start with surprise as the door opens behind you and the little old lady from earlier walks in. You brace yourself for her anger but instead, she chuckles when she spots you before giving you a fond smile.

“Young love,” she remarks to no one in particular before she addresses you. “You’re a lucky lady, you know that? He reminds me of my Nathan,” she says with a bittersweet smile that you return as you nod. “Have a good evening,” she says simply before walking past you to a stall. You resist the urge to splash some water on your burning cheeks, leaving the bathroom before she finishes, hurrying to get back to Javy. As you approach the table, you spot a woman standing next to Javy whom you quickly recognize as the lady from earlier in the night. You frown as you approach and then you catch Javy’s voice. “I told you already, I have a girlfriend, so I’d appreciate it if you left us alone.” You can hear that he’s gritting the words out through his teeth and you feel anger wash through you. The lady doesn’t seem deterred by his words and you approach, hands shaking equally from nerves and rage. You watch as she places a possessive hand on Javy’s arm.

“I believe he asked you to leave him alone.” The harshness in your voice surprises you and you watch Javy and the lady turn towards the sound of your voice as you approach. “No means no.” You say firmly as you reach out and forcibly remove her hand from Javy’s arm. “Now please leave before I have someone come make you.” You don’t believe your own threat but she seems to as he eyes widen and then she turns and heads back the way she came as you glare after her. Once you watch her exit the room, you turn back to Javy, brows furrowed in concern. “You okay?”

***

Javy stares up at you like you’re an avenging angel, your gentle fingers replacing that woman’s claws on his arm. He shifts so the tablecloth hopefully hides the beginning of what he’s sure is going to be a very painful case of blue balls. He realizes you’re still looking down at him, worry swirling in your eyes and he almost pulls you into his arms then and there. His fingers itch to bury themselves in your hair and he wants to climb inside your skeleton to get as close to you as physically possible. Instead, he simply breathes the words rattling around inside his skull, “Thank you.” Your eyes soften and he can’t stop the way his eyes flit down to your perfect plump lips.

“That’s what friends do, right?” You say with a soft smile and your words are a proverbial bucket of ice water that’s been dumped over his head. Friends, right, friends. Javy doesn’t know much but he knows he’s never wanted to tear the dress off of one of his friends. He also knows he wouldn’t have just spent ten grand on a painting for a friend, but he also knows he needs to let you set the pace here. It’s the best advice he’s ever been given as much as he hates that it came from Bradley Bradshaw. As you sit back down next to him and turn your attention back to the auction he thinks back to a week ago.

***

“I just don’t want to fuck this up,” he admits, squirming in the chair he’s currently sitting in. Around him, curled up on the couch and sprawled on the floor are Bugs, Zam, Dragon, Nat, and Josie. Josie’s been glaring daggers at him since she arrived and honestly, he’s surprised that she showed up, but he has a feeling it has more to do with girl code than any particular desire to help him.

Zam regards him thoughtfully from where she’s seated on the couch, hugging a fluffy pillow that looks like a new addition. “Well that’s the first step, I think. You know what you want, and you know you don’t want to hurt her anymore,”

“Though why you hurt her in the first place is still a mystery,” Josie remarks from her spot next to Zam.

“That’s not why we’re here,” Bugs reminds her while giving Javy a soft look that tells him he needs to have a chat with his best friend about secretkeeping. “We’re trying to find a way to move forward, not back. Zam’s right, acknowledging the problem is the first step in making any progress toward a solution.

“What the fuck?” Javy’s stomach drops as everyone’s eyes follow his to where Bradley Bradshaw is standing at the entrance to the living room.

“Bear! You’re home!” Zam chirps happily, ignoring the irritation blossoming on her boyfriend’s face. It softens slightly at her greeting as he answers,

“Hey Honey,” before he turns back to the the scene taking place in the living room, roving over the girls’ faces before coming to a stop on Javy. “What the fuck is he doing here?” His frown deepens.

“Javy’s acknowledged that he’s in deep shit, and has called upon the sage knowledge of the Dogfighters’ Council of Ladies.” Bradley’s brow doesn’t budge.

“That still doesn’t explain why he’s HERE.” He points out and Zam rolls her eyes.

“Well we wanted to meet somewhere where all the ladies are,” she points out, waving a hand towards a small table next to where Bradley’s standing. Javy had cloaked it when he first arrived. On it are two picture frames, one of a couple that must be Bradley’s parents and the other of a woman who looks like an older version of Zam. There are also two vases, filled with daisies and irises respectively. The fight surprisingly goes out of Bradley as he follows Zam’s hand.

“Fine, am I ordering pizza?” He asks, heading for the kitchen, and Zam brightens.

“Yes, please!” He shakes his head but Javy can tell it's an endeared exasperation. “Okay now, back to business, ladies, what do we think Javy should do?”

“Leave her the fuck alone, that’s what,” Bradley calls from the kitchen where he’s tapping away at his phone.

“And why is that?” Zam turns to face him, glaring at him over the back of the couch.

“Are you kidding? She’s too good for him. She deserves better.” Bradley says without looking up and Javy hates the way his stomach tightens because he knows Bradley’s right.

“That’s rich coming from you, Bradshaw,” Dragon remarks and Bradley looks up, cocking an eyebrow at her. “Mr. Grumpy, ‘I emote with my fists,’ Mr. ‘I punched my girlfriend before the first date’ who’s dating someone that’s absolutely out of his league wants to talk about ‘too good’ and ‘deserves better?’” She arches an accusatory eyebrow right back at Bradley and in that moment Javy’s reminded of who her dad is. Splotches of heat climb up Bradley’s neck and he looks chagrinned. “You want to participate, maybe you should be the one giving Javy some advice.” Bradley puts down his phone and leans against the kitchen counter, looking at Dragon for a long moment before turning to Zam and Javy watches him watch her, fondness mixed with anxiety in his eyes.

Finally, he turns to Javy, almost against his will. “Fine, you want to get her back? First, apologize, and really mean it. If you don’t, don’t even bother. And if she accepts your apology? Take things at her pace, and give her control. She’s a nervous little thing, so let her take the lead. Only go as far as she lets you. Relationships are built on trust and right now you’re fresh out. You won’t get anywhere without it so you have to build it. Show her she can trust you. That’s it. The rest will take care of itself.” He shrugs before he picks his phone up again and continues ordering the pizza.

“Damn,” Josie speaks up. “I hate that he’s right.” She turns to Javy. “But I’ve been married to a hockey player for ten years and honestly that’s it. It all comes down to trust and respect. If you can earn that, you have a chance.” She thinks for a long moment, “Well that and she has to be attracted to you.”

“Is she?” Javy asks before he can stop himself. Josie snorts in response and it’s Nat that speaks up.

“Yup, definitely.” She pops the p and Javy’s head jerks to look at his friend. “That’s all I’m giving you, Javy, so don’t you dare come sniffing around for more. We hung out when she came to watch practice and she definitely likes you,” Javy tries to ignore the way his stomach flip-flops at the reveal of this new information.

“That poor girl,” Bradley mutters from the kitchen. “Alright, Machado, you got your advice, now get out of my apartment.” He jerks a thumb towards the hallway.

“But Bradley, what about the pizza?” Zam pouts at him.

“It’s ordered, but it’s Council-only, he’s not staying,” Bradley says, crossing his arms across his chest, leaving little room for argument. Dragon does anyway.

“You’re not on the Council,” she points out from where she’s sprawled out on the floor.

“I live here and I paid.” Bradley shoots back.

“I’ll pay half,” Javy offers and Bradley’s eyes narrow as they come back to him. “Or I could pay it all,” he amends and Bradley considers the offer.

“Fine, but the moment the food’s done, you get out.” He states firmly and Zam cheers as Javy nods and pulls out his wallet.

***

Javy smiles to himself at the memory and the fact that Bradley had given him the money back on his way out with strict instructions to buy you some flowers with it. He’s doing his best, even if it’s not great. You seemed to like the flowers at least. But as he looks down to where you’re holding his hand, he wonders if maybe he’s not doing so bad after all.

A/N: Y’all… I think he’s in love 🥺

[youcouldmakealife]

SOTM: Robbie, Playoff Willy, various Scouts; pull yourself up by the jockstrap

For the prompt: A little more of Robbie's time with the Scouts - Cup party, with the Tweedles and Willy, maybe Julius & Erin. Your choice - just more of that.

(I'm not here, but the tumblr queue is! Well. Probably.)

“Now, I know I have no right to talk about maturity,” Robbie says, then promptly ducks the jock that comes flying at him, the rest of his message going undelivered.

“No throwing shit at teammates’ heads during playoffs!” Playoff Willy yells.

“It wouldn’t hit him in the head if he wasn’t so short!” Bender says. “I misjudged!”

“Misjudging is not acceptable during playoffs!” Playoff Willy says. Robbie wants to write a book of his sayings. Like Sun Tzu but for maladjusted athletes who don’t know how to lose. Which is pretty much all pro athletes, in Robbie’s experience, so it might even sell.

Robbie nudges at the limp jock with his socked foot. It looks sad. Defeated, even. “Bro, when was the last time you replaced this?”

Bender looks to Playoff Willy, like he’s waiting for Robbie to get yelled at, though Robbie’s pretty sure Playoff Willy cares a hell of a lot less about feelings than he does about potential head injuries. Or like — anything. The only feelings Playoff Willy cares about are like, motivation. And probably bloodlust.

“Pike has a point,” Playoff Willy says. “That shit is falling apart.”

“But I wore it in!” Bender says. “None of the other ones fit right.”

Robbie pokes it a little further from him. The visitor’s room floor is sketchy as fuck, but he doesn’t think he can do the thing any damage at this point.

The elastic snaps. Well, snaps is a strong word. The elastic’s too damn worn for that, so it’s less a dramatic death and more feebly giving up on the last thread of life remaining.

“Whoops,” Robbie says. Maybe he should have considered that the thing was an antique before he started poking at it.

“Willy, look what he did!” Bender says. “That was my lucky jock!”

“How lucky can it be when we just lost the game?” Playoff Willy growls.

Bender is, thankfully, smart enough to realize that’s a rhetorical question.

“Still up a game, Playoff Willy,” Money says, and Playoff Willy shoots him a glare, but doesn’t say anything.

Robbie’s still impressed that Money’s got the balls to call him Playoff Willy to his face, and even more impressed that Playoff Willy lets him. Everybody knows Money is his favorite, but as the playoffs have gone on, that seems to buy less and less leeway. Money told him from the get-go that the longer the playoff run, the worse Playoff Willy got. Robbie didn’t really believe him, or maybe didn’t want to, but he’s got to say, Playoff Willy during the Conference Finals is a whole different beast than the first round. Emphasis on beast, there. If he mauled someone Robbie wouldn’t even be surprised. Unless they were playing well, he guesses.

Thankfully, Robbie’s been doing okay for himself, shutting down the guys he needs to shut down, so he’s also currently in Playoff Willy’s good books, at least enough that he doesn’t fear mauling.

“I’ve had that for eight years,” Bender moans.

“That’s fucking gross, dude,” Robbie says. “Genuinely. I did you a favor.”

Bender throws a glove at him. Thankfully, it doesn’t appear to have been around for two presidential terms.

“If I have to leave next game because I got nut shot, that’s on you, Pike,” Bender says.

“Bro, if you go onto the ice without a jock Playoff Willy will cup check you himself,” Robbie says.

He winces, but either Playoff Willy didn’t notice the slip, or Robbie’s earned even more grace than he thought.

“He isn’t wrong,” Playoff Willy says. “Normally I wouldn’t, since it’s a chickenshit play, and an auto major, but I don’t think they really care if it’s your own teammate.”

“Refs won’t give a shit,” Scratch says. “Social media probably won’t shut up about how he slept with your wife, though.”

“I can make it look like an accident,” Playoff Willy says. Robbie does not doubt him even a little.

His brow furrows a moment later. “I don’t have a wife,” he says, sounding almost unsure.

That would be kind of suspicious, but Robbie’s learned that’s just how Playoff Willy talks about anything non-hockey related, like first he has to go consult with normal Willy, who’s being held hostage somewhere inside him.

“That could not matter less to idiots on twitter,” Scratch says.

“Last round they said I slept with your wife,” Money says.

“Why did you sleep with my wife?” Playoff Willy asks, then, after checking with kidnapped Willy again, “You’re openly gay.”

“Like I said,” Scratch says. “Could not care less about your actual relationship status. Or sexuality, apparently.”

“Scratch is still mad about it,” Joey says.

“I’m not mad about it,” Scratch says. “I just think people should do basic—“

“I fixed it!” Bender says. “I fixed it, guys! All it needed was a little super glue.”

Robbie has such a bad feeling about this. Bender’s honestly lucky his balls have survived this long: that elastic was literally holding on by a thread.

“You don’t want kids, right?” Robbie asks.

“Oh yeah,” Bender says. “Not quite yet, but Lacey and I are—“

“Oh, give me that fucking thing,” Playoff Willy says.

Super glue isn’t going do shit to save Bender’s jock after Playoff Willy and a pair of scissors get through with it.

“Have some respect for your testicles,” Playoff Willy hisses, and then marches the remains of Bender’s jock to the trash can.

That one's an instant classic. Robbie is adding it to the book of Playoff Willy for sure.

“That’s one for the book of Willy,” Harvard says. Obviously Robbie didn’t need telling, but he does appreciate that it’s becoming a collaborative effort.

“Hah,” Robbie says. “Testicles.”

“Willy,” Harvard agrees.

“What are you two giggling about?” Playoff Willy growls.

“Nothing,” they chorus, ducking their heads so they don’t accidentally meet Playoff Willy’s eyes. That’s a mistake Robbie isn’t making again.

“It was so comfortable,” Bender mumbles. “Like wearing nothing at all.”

“Yeah, buddy, we know,” Scratch says. “That was kind of the problem.”

“So comfy,” Bender whispers.

*

Robbie’s never been to a funeral for a jock before, but he guesses there’s a first time for everything.

“R.I.P.,” Money says. “Like rest in peace. Not like rip. Though that is what you did.”

“Before getting hacked to pieces by a madman,” Scratch says.

“May you find peace and serenity in—“

“What the fuck are you guys doing?” Playoff Willy says.

“Scatter!” Money says, and they all flee. Well, Robbie doesn’t. Not because he doesn’t want to, but he’s fucking exhausted. Plus, he blocked a shot last game, and anything faster than an amble makes his leg throb like a bitch.

“What the fuck were they doing?” Playoff Willy asks.

“Funeral for the jock we murdered,” Robbie says. Well, Robbie’s crime was jockslaughter at most, but that’s not important.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Playoff Willy says, then bows his head, eyes closed. He doesn’t move for a good minute, and Robbie’s shifting uncomfortably, wondering if he's finally snapped just like the jock did, and if getting Money will help or just make it worse.

He startles when Willy speaks, murmuring, “Sorry I killed you.”

Presumably — hopefully — he’s talking to the jock, rather than saying it to Robbie just before he kills him. Robbie reminds himself he’s safe. He blocks shots.

“It was for his safety, and the greater good,” Playoff Willy says. “Thank you for your years of service.”

He opens his eyes then, and Robbie accidentally meets his eye.

Shit. He wasn’t supposed to do that. He doesn’t think he was supposed to see that either.

“I won’t tell anyone about this,” Robbie says.

Playoff Willy’e eyes narrow.

“Because there’s nothing to tell,” Robbie says.

“You’re a quick learner, Lombardi,” Playoff Willy says. “I like that about you.”

“I block shots too,” Robbie says, just to make sure Playoff Willy remembers his utility.

“You block shots too,” Playoff Willy murmurs, then nods to himself.

“Integral part of the team,” Robbie says, then, aware he’s over-selling it, he awkwardly shoots Playoff Willy two thumbs up.

Playoff Willy’s brow furrows, then, after a long consult with the normal Willy tied up in the basement of his brain, he gives Robbie two thumbs up back.