your citation tag is killing me that's your entire rpf thesis in a phrase. you're sick and twisted jaymison
You're talking to a guy who asked a real staff member about their health insurance status halfway through a hockey game and tried to network with the Oilers social person. I've read prospect reports for three throwaway lines. It's not MY fault all my rpf technically has a bibliography. This is just who I am as a person.
(If anyone wants a hockey factchecker for their hrpf please contact me. I'm being serious. Give me a reason to look at more stats. I love complaining about team partnership deliverables.)
for the rarepair challenge: pat maroon/jeremy swayman + biting?
rarepair challenge // accepting
bite down (till you hit something)
672 words, M for suggestive themes.
Pat thinks he’s going insane.
No… no, he knows he’s going insane.
Like most hockey players, he’s got a bit of an oral fixation. His is relatively manageable, the mouthguard is enough to satisfy him, but he does sometimes just like to bite things. It’s probably related to his guard dog status, but whatever. He’s not hurting anyone.
But when he joined the Bruins, and watched Jeremy stick his tongue out to drag his jersey up into his mouth, to bite it and lift it- god. God damn. The first time he saw it up close, he had to stop himself from saying ‘fuck’ out loud. It was hot, Jeremy’s tongue was flexible.
But the later in the season they go, the more Jeremy’s routine gets to Pat. There have been teammates with routines that made Pat do a double take before sure- stretching and working a muscle set that looked… suggestive at best. He’s glanced, then kept his thoughts to himself.
But holy fuck.
The tongue… and the bite. The bite.
It’s a random one that breaks the camel’s back. Pat keeps his thoughts to himself for the game, for the post-game media, the team getting undressed and redressed. But when most people have cleared out, Pat- he needs.
“Sway,” He calls out. Jeremy’s head swivels, and when he sees who’s calling him, he smiles up at Pat.
“Hey, bud, what’s up?”
“Why- why do you do that during warmups?”
“What, the twitches? It’s a goalie warmup-”
“No, not that- the, the tongue, and the jersey bite.”
Jeremy blinks, blinks again. “Oh. Uh, I don’t know, I just-”
“You know what you look like, doing that, yeah?”
Jeremy blushes a little, light pink dusting his cheekbones, but he smirks. “I don’t do it because of that, but yeah, I know.”
Pat steps closer, and Jeremy looks up again, eyes wide.
“You look like- fuck, Sway, you really do look like a dog when you bite your jersey like that.” Pat croaks, stepping closer again. Jeremy’s brow furrows and he glances around at Pat’s face. After a moment, the confusion clears.
“They call me bulldog for a reason.”
Pat huffs, and his eyes drop from Jeremy’s face to his neck. His teeth ache. He licks his lips, and Jeremy watches, suddenly transfixed. They’re close now, chest to chest with Jeremy’s back resting on the wall. Pat makes a low sound in his chest, something like a rumble, and Jeremy answers with a whimper. Pat leans down, and Jeremy leans up, expecting a kiss, but is disappointed when Pat just nuzzles his cheek. He rubs his hairy cheek against Jeremy’s, and brings a hand up to cup the back of Jeremy’s head and neck.
He leans further down still, and pauses right before sinking his teeth into the soft, pale skin of the front of Jeremy’s neck.
Jeremy gasps wetly, legs going weak, and his head goes limp against Pat’s hand. Pat rumbles again, digging his teeth in a little more, and Jeremy keens. Pat can feel the sound under his mouth, in his teeth, and he presses Jeremy back into the wall.
Pat wants- god, he wants. He wants to dig in, rip and tear and relish in the squeals and moans he knows will come from the throat he’s ravaging. He wants to let go and rub his face all over Jeremy’s neck- leave him covered in beard burn that he’ll feel for days afterwards. He wants to lick over all the beautiful pale skin he can see.
He wants it all. But for now, he’ll settle for biting a massive bruise into the skin, stake his claim on the pretty goalie. He works his teeth in a little more, feels Jeremy whimper again, and finally lets go. He leans up and has to hold Jeremy up before he falls. The poor goalie is dazed, eyes distant and dark and hazy, chest heaving with each breath.
“Bulldog, eh?” Pat asks. He watches Jeremy’s throat bob around a swallow. His teeth ache.
ooooooo please share about the wishbaby au??? love that trope to pieces!!!!
The wishbaby au is one of the few wips from when I dabbled in sidgeno hrpf circa 2018 that got ported to my gdrive from a different notes app that I fully forgot to check because so many of those wips are straight up abandoned/wip-amnesty. What I have written is outline/not!fic territory.
The summary/pitch is: Wishbabies but they already have kids. Basically more wishbabies.
Embarrassment flooded Nolan's entire being, his jaw working but not producing any sound. The entire pack was staring at him, but Willson's gaze hurt the most. He was being chastised, treated like a pup in front of everyone, after he had been explicitly told that they don't do that here.
Sonny had to sit, his nerves getting to him. Now that they were standing here, in front of the entire team, he was suddenly face to face with the fact that they have all undoubtedly seen him on his knees, sucking Willson off like his life depended on it before taking it up the ass. They all knew.
"What electives did you take in your undergrad? I know there's some requirements for English in American -"
"I took ballet," Jeremy blurts out. "For my art elective."
Dr. Ullmark blinks. Rubs his eyes.
"Ballet," he repeats.
"I played hockey in undergrad," says Jeremy meekly. "Goalie. The - the ankle flexibility -"
"Yes, I can see the value of... dance, for netminding," interrupts Dr. Ullmark, but there's the start of a smile dancing on his lips. "I'm not sure how useful ballet will be for Scandinavian poetry, but I'm sure we can make it work together?"
Jeremy's fucked. In more ways than one.
Dr. Linus Ullmark is in… a state of a transition. Being a sessional lecturer at a school better known for its biology programs than its literature research is fine for now. He just needs hear back on that professorship in Ottawa. Or the applications for positions back in Sweden. Or even that research fellowship in Norway, of all places. Until then, he’ll grit his teeth and keep teaching introductory comparative literature at Boston University, because something better is bound to come eventually.
It’s only classic for administration to drop a random TA into his lap after he’s specifically said that he doesn’t need one. It’s even better that this Jeremy Swayman is a PhD candidate from the natural sciences faculty, and likely can’t tell expressionism from surrealism. But making ends meet as a grad student is difficult enough, and if the paycheque isn't coming out of his research grants, Linus really wouldn’t mind an extra body during seminars. All the guy has to do is sit in on lectures and answer student emails. How bad could it be?
Two things go wrong at the very start — Jeremy knows less about literature than Linus could even fathom, and he is painfully earnest about trying his best to be a good TA despite this fact. At least he’s cute, even if Linus would prefer maybe 40% of his current energy.
It's fine. Linus just needs to get through this semester like a professional.
Jeremy Swayman is a PhD student studying Environmental Science at Boston University, and he’s damn good at it. It’s a shame that living in Boston is as expensive as it is, but he’s been able to supplement his scholarships with teaching labs around the department for the past two years of his degree. But when his usual positions fall out from under him, the university presents him a TA position in the Literature department, of all things. Jeremy can’t do anything but lie egregiously about his qualifications and accept it. How hard could an introductory comparative literature course be to bullshit, anyway?
Of course, it then goes to shit almost immediately when Dr. Ullmark clocks him as embarrassingly underqualified. But he hires him anyway, and Dr. Ullmark has a quiet but wicked sense of humour, and is ever so patient when walking through the course assignments with him, and doesn’t laugh meanly at his attempts at pronouncing the author names on the reading list, and —
Jeremy may be falling a little too fast. For an Arts prof, of all people.
As the semester begins, will Linus and Jeremy figure out how to run the course together despite their differences? And is something else brewing on the horizon?
