This is apropos of nothing but I've been at the farm all week (first chicken processing) and my sciatic nerve hates me and wasn't letting me get any fucking sleep so I might actually be insane but someone in a Hollanov discord posted a collage of photos of Connor Storrie with his tongue out and commented "I bet Ilya can eat a pudding cup with no spoon" and I blacked out and when I came to I had a snippet that isn't going to fit anywhere so here it is, slightly under 1k words of Shane POV seeing the compilation video. There's not really a punchline but I thought it was fun.
It was in Connors’ Instagram stories. He’d taken it upon himself to film a series of videos of various of the Raiders attempting to eat a pudding cup without a spoon. For extra homoerotic spice they couldn’t hold the cup themselves; one of their teammates was called upon to hold it, to prove their tongues were doing the work rather than pushing on the outside of the cup to collapse it to reach better, as Connors explained in one of the early stories. Fans had found the videos and downloaded them, and now Shane was watching a compilation, sort of against his will, but he hadn’t been able to resist because the preview was Ilya on his knees grinning up at the camera with his mouth open, his tongue running across his teeth.
Connors did a mediocre job of it, himself, getting pudding all over his dirtbag little moustache, laughing and laughing, Marly holding the cup and shoving it helpfully into his face. St-Simon tried it, was laughing too hard to make much of an attempt, Connors holding the cup and ineffectually twisting it. Marly did a pretty good job, but he was cheating, holding Connors’ wrist as he held the cup, twisting it to redirect it. Ilya’s voice was in that one, calling Marly a cheating cheater. Marly broke off to defend himself, whining that Connors wasn’t holding it right. Ilya came into the frame, gesturing, cutting him off, taking the cup, holding it up to the camera, showing there was still pudding in it. “You have to stop here,” he said. “Too much cheating. Final result. Maybe you can redo in next round. I don’t know how much shitty pudding you want to eat. Let me show you now.”
And then he was looking straight into the camera, up, on his knees, the preview shot. “Let me show you how is done,” he said. And he took his hands and put them ostentatiously behind his back, encircling one wrist with the other hand, and he winked at the camera and licked his teeth showily.
“Cap! Cap! Cap! Cap!” several Raiders were chanting, and St-Simon took the lid off the pudding cup and held it out. Ilya unclasped his hands to direct him, getting him to place it just so, at a perfect angle, and whoever was behind the phone camera repositioned to get a good angle.
“Hold like that,” Ilya said. “Don’t move it. Don’t fuck around, Sasa. Yes?”
“I got you,” St-Simon said.
It was a vanilla pudding cup, the gross kind they didn’t even refrigerate at the grocery store. Shane never touched those fucking things, but Ilya dragged his tongue across the surface of it, looking straight into the camera, and then closed his eyes, tilted his head the other way, and dove in. His tongue was visible through the clear plastic, scooping deeply into the container.
“Fuck,” Shane muttered, glad he hadn’t watched this when it had first come up on his phone. Actually JJ had sent it to him, and he’d looked at the preview and loudly expressed disgust that anyone would subject him to this. He’d suspected it might be dangerous like this. But god damn. This was--
“Shit, Roz,” whoever was filming-- Connors-- said.
Ilya was making gross slurping noises, and he glanced up briefly at the camera but then rolled his eyes shut again. It couldn’t be that he was enjoying the pudding that much. Not all of it was going in his mouth, but he was leaning forward enough that it was dribbling down his chin and not getting on his chest, or his knees. St-Simon was clearly struggling to hold the cup still because Ilya was pushing at it with considerable force, diving in, changing the angle of his head.
“Shit,” St-Simon said, “he has a tongue like a-- like I don’t know, how do you have room to talk with so much tongue.”
“Big mouth,” Connors said, laughing.
“Don’t let him move that thing,” Marly said. “If he’s gonna give me shit about it--”
“I’m holding it, I’m holding it,” St-Simon said.
Ilya’s shoulders looked fucking fantastic too, pulled taut, clamped behind his back, the muscular line of his neck straining, exposed by the collar of his t-shirt tugged-down by his arm position. He of course had no sleeves on his shirt, he was allergic to them.
“Are we keeping time?” a new voice asked. “Is this a speed record, or what?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Connors said. “I was going for completeness.”
“I mean anyone can lick out a pudding cup,” said the new voice. Accent. Swedish? Oh maybe Johannsen, backup goalie, Shane didn’t know him but Ilya had mentioned him once.
Ilya groaned, swallowed hard, and leaned back a little. “Is that it?” St-Simon asked, starting to pull the cup away.
“No,” Ilya said, and dived back in again. His tongue was pink, and the cup was almost entirely clean, and he was licking it really goddamned hard.
“I guess he loves pudding,” Connors said.
Ilya leaned back, freeing his hands to wipe his face. “I thought contest was for thoroughness,” he said. “Look at that,” and he gestured in satisfaction. St-Simon showed the cup to the camera. “Don’t have to even rinse before recycling.”
Shane stopped the video there, the pause screen frozen on Ilya’s satisfied expression as he gestured at the stupid fucking pudding cup, which was indeed completely cleaned out.
He opened a new browser window and looked up the city of Boston’s recycling program before remembering that Ilya’s address wasn’t Boston and the bins he’d noticed tucked next to the garage had a different town’s logo on them. He closed the window without revising his search. What an asinine thing to worry about.
He closed the YouTube window too because he wasn't going to jerk off to that. Listen, he wasn't.
A little later he opened the Lily text window and typed, You should still rinse out recyclables, but then he deleted it without sending it.
Title: Rehkuh https://archiveofourown.org/works/51713923
Author: ForFucksSakeJim
Fandom: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series, Star Trek: The Original Series
Rating: Teen and Up
Words: 543
Summary:
Or; Spock get's drunk after 3 chocolate daiquiri's at the New Year's party and Bones Does Not Have Enough Alcohol to deal with their shenanigans
In response to a prompt by spacedogfromspace
Title: Of the people he could call home https://archiveofourown.org/works/51728644
Author: I_want_fanfics
Fandom: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series
Rating: Teen and Up
Words: 2,746
Summary:
The calming sound of a fire burning filled the room as the smell of freshly baked cookies started permeating the air even more with the opening of the oven. Outside, the world was covered in a blanket of white, the last remnants of a slight storm that had blown over not long ago. Jim curled his hands around his mug of hot cocoa and breathed in deeply; he’d always loved this time of year.
In response to a prompt by BurningAmber
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