#cs writes

[creamsiclemelt]

adding to my to-write list

-metros re-write. new gm comes in bc ownership hears the current one is letting shane walk

-crack fic of homophobic metros GM finding out about them pre-outing and conspiring to make the metros a friendly team to gay people bc he did the calculation of "money + championships > homophobia"

-puppy play inspired heavily by this banger of a post

[csblogs]

cs please pleeeeeeeease, i love the way you perceive cale, i love the way you talk about him. his pov of your fic where he and nate meet before the nhl lives rent free in my head. i don't want to pressure, but since you talked about trying to write more, will we ever get more?

he's just so interesting! he's been breaking records since he signed. he's been talked about in the same breath as bobby orr since he stepped on professional ice. he's a conn smythe winner, a stanley cup champion, a once-in-a-generation player who most people already view as a shoe-in for the hall of fame when his time comes. but he's also just some guy that i'd see at trivia night at the bar or in costco on a random saturday, and that's so fascinating to me!

then, on top of that, his subdued nature is almost a meme at this point. he scores a goal and just goes -_-. but i know he cares. i know it. you don't get called "very, very competitive" by nate (i repeat, called competitive by *nathan mackinnon*) and not care. which is why that brief glimpse of him in the back of sid's interview hit so hard. because we don't see that from him. not after his college team lost the frozen four. not after the avs got knocked out of the playoffs year after year. he keeps his emotions buttoned up, but they're there, and i love exploring what that actually looks like.

so on that topic: fic

i don't think i see myself revisiting that series in any official way. it feels complete as is, whole. plus, i genuinely don't think i could capture the same atmosphere and writing style. those fics were written at such a particular time in my life and that resulted in a very distinct voice that i'm not sure i could ever recreate.

but! i did once outline some thoughts on what their future looks like in the comments of that fic, and if there's something in particular you'd be interested in hearing about, i'm more than willing to entertain/indulge!

i do have some other things marinating and even cooking for them, so hopefully, you'll see some of that in the coming months :)

[couragesun]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

I wrote a thing for Odaiba Day! It’s a little late but I hope you all enjoy :D (I’m going to go hide over here now before the insecurity monster finds me) 

Summary

Yamato’s eyes flickered to Taichi’s mouth, “Anywhere.”

The ‘with you’ wasn’t spoken, but the weight hung in the air nevertheless. It was a promise. Their promise. The one they made to each other every night: slurred beneath the stars, whispered into pillows, shouted to the heavens. Reiterated by their mouths, their glances, their fists. The promise of leaving Odaiba and its stupid feud; leaving behind two years of forbidden romance and actually just having a romance. Some days it was the only thing that kept them moving forward - knowing that they could eventually move forward together.

[creamsiclemelt]

first draft is DONE

[creamsiclemelt]

the good thing about writing characters who are rich as hell is that the explanation to "why is there a gynecological exam chair in our house" is 'idk i bought it' and it's fine

[creamsiclemelt]

more of nick gangbang :) yay ! yippee !!

(prev part)

Nick's always a little shocked by how Slaf fucks. Slaf is usually a chill, easy-going guy. In the locker room, he's quick to crack a joke with both the guys and media, never afraid of the cameras or the people loudly clamouring to be heard. On the ice, he's always tuned into both Nick and Cole, ready to skate in to the toughest battles and come out on top, snarl at and taunt guys equally, but always, always willing to come back to the bench and talk things through with Nick, eager to work with him and Cole to make their team better. Open to listening. Up until last year, it had almost been deferential to the point of it being a problem.

But here, with his hands wrapped around Nick's thighs, pushing them up to his ears and his big cock fucking so deep inside Nick that he swears he'd feel a bump on his stomach if he touched it, there's none of that version of Juraj Slafkovsky to be found.

Nick remembers the first time Slaf fucked him—18 and fresh to the NHL, his hands shaking a little as he guided his cock inside Nick's pussy. He'd been allowed to go first as a welcome-to-the-NHL-kid treat to the first overall pick. Eddy has whistled, impressed when he'd seen Slaf's hard cock, heckled "Fuck, kid if we knew you were working with that thing we'd have loosened him up for you first. Now you're just gonna leave him sloppy for the rest of us."

And Slaf had chirped something back, probably not all that impressive with his still loose understanding of English, but Nick can't recall what. He'd barely heard it, been too busy trying to push past the static in his head as his pussy had stretched open to take one of the biggest cocks he'd ever had.

It hadn't lasted very long, though. At 18, fucking a catboy pussy for the first time, it hadn't taken much for Slaf to come.

Even that quick fuck had left Nick even more sore than usual.

Nick's had that cock in him more times than he can count, now. And it should be helpful in making it easier for him to breathe when he's taking it, but it's not—because at 21 and with three seasons of fucking Nick under his belt, Slaf can go for a while now.

And if that time has taught both of them anything too, Slaf likes it mean.

He likes to fuck hard, grind every last inch into whatever hole he's inside. He likes pull Nick's hair. He likes to grab Nick's tail and yank until he's howling.

He likes sticking three, four fingers in Nick's mouth.

Newy doesn't seem to appreciate that today. "Alright, that's enough," he says, "I'm pulling rank. I want his mouth."

Slaf laughs, stops fingering the back of Nick's throat and grips Nick's hips instead. "Alright dad," he chirps. Off to the side, Demi and Kappy both groan.

Someone else laughs. Nick thinks it might be Maths. "Come on, play with his dick," he says.

Slaf smiles. "Nah," he says, in that easy going way of his. "He'll come without it."

Then, looking down at Nick and giving him a conspiratorial little smile like they're in this together and that Nick isn't just doing his best to hold on and make his lungs work, he adds, "Right, captain?"

[creamsiclemelt]

nick gangbang drabble that came to me in a dream

"Suzy," Andy says, he's got one Nick's ears caught between his pointer and middle finger, gently rolling the sensitive cartilage, the soft, downy dark far he has growing on them getting caught between his fingers. "Where are you going, buddy?"

Nick's entire body feels overheated. His tail is starting to twitch behind him. "I thought..." he swallows, looks around at the the expectant, excited faces. "My apartment," he finishes, a little uselessly as he feels the soothing stroke of a hand down his tail. His ears try to flick back but all they do is twitch between Andy's fingers. Andy makes a soft little noise. It's Jake who speaks next. He's right behind Nick, and the hand on his tail had been Jake's. It's a touch Nick can recognize with his eyes closed. "Come on Suzy, this one's for all the boys. We don't wanna make a mess at your place, do we? Keeping it in the locker room is smarter."

Mess. Where? On Nick? Inside him?

Nick shivers. "You're right," he says, a little breathless. His pussy is getting wetter between his legs—a mess already. "Let's do it here."

(pt 2)

[creamsiclemelt]

not sure what type of prompts u wanted but maybe natejo where the team realizes jo is their solution to how angry nate gets

(or if u need smtg more specific and more ur beat in terms of freaky, natejo cockwarming ◡̈)

I decided to combine both of your prompts anon! Enjoy!

///

Jo is a nice guy. He’s always quick to smile, and is a hell of a hockey player. 

But if you ask Mikko, maybe the best part of having him here, above everything else, is how he has a handle on Mack. Mikko’s never seen anyone outside of Gabe know how to talk Nate down when he’s worked up. 

Jo, though, blows even Gabe out of the water in Nate-handling-skills. Mikko’s seen Jo happily step in between Nate and the target of his ire more than once, has seen Jo go over and make Nate crack a smile when he’s got That One Look on his face. Within the first two weeks of the season, Mikko already knows just how valuable he’s going to be strictly for that alone. 

Still, when Nate accidentally bats the puck into their own net in the last minute of a one-goal game, Mikko knows that the nice dinner out the boys had planned is about to be a whole lot less relaxing than they had hoped for. Either Nate’s not coming—which seems unlikely because Jo’s coming—or he will, and be snappy and irritable when he’s not trying to talk hockey with whoever’s caught next to him. Not to mention what he’s going to be like at practice tomorrow. 

He doubts any amount of Jo talking to Nate or trying to make him laugh is going to change that. 

Mikko stays and does a post-game TV interview right after the game and hopes idly that maybe Nate will have the worst of his anger out by the time he makes it back to the room. 

He’s not exactly optimistic as he approaches the locker room and hears the dead silence coming from it. When he opens the door, he’s expecting some kind of—well. He doesn’t know what he’s expecting. But it isn’t what he finds.

Because Nate’s sitting in his stall, slumped like the picture of relaxation, with his legs spread wide. And in between his knees, there’s a dark head of hair.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out who it is, but when Mikko cautiously approaches his stall, situated right next to Nate’s, he finds himself blinking down at Jo, eyes caught on the way his mouth is being stretched open by Nate’s cock. 

Jo’s eyes flick over to his, and although Mikko can see his face getting pink, he doesn’t try to pull away, just blinks once, twice, and then shuts his eyes. 

“Thank you, baby,” Nate says, his voice husky and maybe the calmest Mikko’s ever heard him sound after a loss like that. “You’re doing such a good job.” 

Then he looks up, glances around the room until he sees a member of the staff, standing in place, just as frozen as everyone else. “Can you guys do post-game interviews somewhere else?” he asks. 

And, well—

It’s a small price to pay in exchange for a content, calm Nate, all things considered.