Jamie Drysdale - Tumblr Posts
sooooooooooo devon levi
i literally manifested them together bro im screaming
yeah tr*vor sorry he stole your man
trevor zegras + jamie drysdale, a tiktok duo for the ages
jamie drysdale being forced to play baseball, and he’s being sooo brave about it
━ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠.
main masterlist
pairing(s) — TREVOR ZEGRAS x f!reader (established); JAMIE DRYSDALE x reader; MASON MCTAVISH x reader; trevor x jamie x mason wc — 2.2k synopsis — what better gift on your friends to bestow than the gift that keeps on giving?
note — happy valentine's day, my lovelies!! as my gift to you, i've decided to release whatever the hell this is from the archive <3 i randomly dropped this on patreon post-ficmas '24 because, per usual, i was possessed by the ghost of perpetual horniness! we know it'll happen again, so just know i am totally down to write a follow-up if there's any interest teehee! oh, and to the anons who requested some jd + tz content after the trade (rip), i hope this satisfies the craving!! (and you don't mind masey being thrown in the mix)
and with that... i’ll see myself out 🚶♀️
specific content warnings under the cut.
cw — everyone’s a lil bi because why not, trevor is boyfriend of the year, mason and jamie bickering over whose turn it is to munch, tz + reader are switchy and mason + jamie are bratty and subby, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), accidental edging, trevor being a cocky menace and stirring the pot, and a wee bit of a cliff-hanger bc i'm incapable of controlling myself :-) oh, and the current pet name fixation of the week! + trevor calling himself daddy (once) while being condescending to all parties lolz
“—stop getting in my way.”
"or what?"
silence.
then, an exasperated groan.
“i wouldn’t need to be in the way if you were doing it right.”
the long, drawn-out sigh you hear sounds far away, like an echo from somewhere out in the distance, but you know it's coming from behind you—directly behind you.
your boyfriend abandons the soft curves of your chest, which you vehemently protest with a petulant mewl, to massage the tension building between his eyes; if he’d known this would turn into such a headache, he never would’ve suggested this.
“clock’s running, boys. if you wanna waste your very limited time between my girl’s pretty legs bickering with each other, be my guest.”
jamie and mason exchange a glare, united in their distaste for their friend’s tone and attitude in spite of their sudden animosity toward one another.
a pretty girl could do that to a friend group.
only, you haven’t come between the trio in the way one might assume. you might’ve been the catalyst in jamie and mason’s current strife, sure, but that's where your meddling begins and ends. no, you’ve come between them in more of a physical sense, at the behest of your boyfriend and their best friend.
trevor zegras veered toward possessive—territorial, even—most days, but, tonight, he’s feeling strangely generous. it is the season of giving, after all. however, his kindness hardly felt like a gift anymore. the gesture lost its luster soon after the silky ribbon was untied and discarded... and the bitching began. charity work would be a more apt descriptor, in his humble opinion.
he’s expecting an edible arrangement from the ladies of orange county in the near future.
but if anyone deserves some compensation, it's most definitely you, and trevor has just the shiny something in mind. what was originally intended to be the crown jewel of your holiday gifts will now function as a “thank you letting my friends use you as a practice dummy” token of appreciation.
“guess we also need to teach you to share,” you huff, exhausted from the accidental edging and frustrated by trevor's shifted attention.
the worst part is that you don’t think they’re perceptive enough (or have enough experience with a woman’s body, even) to see the agony, the by-product of their inadvertent torture, smeared plainly across your dazed and dewy face. your boyfriend's best friends have unintentionally dragged you to the brink of insanity, and you're reluctantly hanging on by a fragile thread.
said boyfriend's lips caress your temple. “can’t say i blame them. with you freshly unwrapped—just out of the box—and all... i wouldn't know how to share you, either.”
eager is a nice way of putting the boys' behavior thus far, but selfish is a more befitting adjective for their uncoordinated fervor.
two interesting things to note since you were spread wide—presented—to your boyfriend’s closest friends and collegues. the first being that while jamie is enthralled by the way you clench around his lithe fingers, mason favors his mouth; and second, trevor’s harder than a rock from showering his friends with the same domineering aura usually reserved for you in the privacy of your shared bedroom.
(or, the backseat of his car. the abandoned lifeguard tower beside the pier and, on occasion, the recently refurbished dressing room.)
mason also enjoys spitting on your sensitive bits more than he’s comfortable with, the apprehension bright in his eyes. but, watching the run-off of his saliva and your syrupy arousal drip onto jamie’s fingers before both are shoved into your heat is too distracting to pay any mind to the internal chaos of unearthing a new and unforeseen kink.
what jamie lacks in skill and experience, he makes up for in enthusiasm. for all his bashfulness, jamie drysdale is not shy about finger-fucking.
momentarily sat on his haunches, mason watches with feverish intent as his friend curls your toes with the simple curl of his marriage and middle, his pinky and pointer fingers splayed wide to keep his eye on the prize, sight unimpeded by plush, silky distractions.
no bells and whistles, just diligence.
soon, watching ceases to satiate the burly man and mason slips his own thumb into the mix. with his lips or his tongue—or his fingers, it now seems—mason mctavish is obsessed with your clit.
trevor shoots him a knowing wink; that's his favorite part, too. never do you make prettier sounds than when you’re having that special, highly-responsive bundle tended to. fingers, tongue, trevor's thigh... it doesn't matter, you fall apart all the same.
mason nudges jamie to one side and, much to your surprise, he goes without a fight this time, still stroking you closer and closer to the summit.
with his greater access, mason leans down. his nose splits duties with his thumb as he places wet, open-mouth kisses on your inner thighs, mons pubis, and, finally, the coveted pearl throbbing for affection. his mouth wraps around the little bud before pausing. he looks up for approval.
from trevor.
with the dip of his chin and a peck to your balmy cheek, your boyfriend encourages his best friend to suck on his girlfriend's clit.
mason needs no further coaxing. he alternates between suction and kitten-licks; his tongue was beginning to feel left out. all the while, jamie’s devoted fingers keep you pleasantly teetering on the end.
it's amazing the difference time and a little scolding can make.
“i think you’re enjoying this a little too much, bunny.”
“—m’sorry,” you whimper.
his warm, familiar chuckle fills your ear as he strokes your cheek. “i’m only teasing. you know how much i love watching you get all worked up. and, this way, i get to sit back and enjoy the view while they do all the dirty work.”
your eyes roll back, and his amusement grows louder.
“maybe, we’ll do this again? i wonder how fast they could get you off when they already know how the tricks.”
a raw, guttural sound claws past your lips.
trevor growls into your neck between love-bites. “you’d like that, wouldn’t you, greedy girl? is my mouth not enough for you—y’need my friends’ too? such a slutty little bunny i have..."
"no—only want y-you."
it comes out in a few, demure hiccups, the clarity of your protest impeded by those and the frantic shaking of your head.
your boyfriend can't help but twist your mind when you're like this, too weak and preoccupied by pleasure to give him any lip. his brat's gone sweet, fully subdued. and now he can have a little fun.
“—i know, i know. no need to get all worked up over nothing, silly girl. but it wouldn't matter much if you did, though, right?" the hand cradling your chin moves your head in agreement; he knows you're too far gone—too fucked out, to function. "no, it wouldn't because daddy doesn't share his toys. he needs you all to himself."
in this moment, you aren't sure if trevor loves or loathes you.
“lost your voice, bunny? you’re strangely quiet for a slut i know is close. i can hear it, and i know you can too. we all know you're fucking soaked. go on, don't be shy. i think their good behavior has earned them some praise, hm? doin' so good at following my directions—almost as obedient as you are, pretty thing. be sweet, then you can cum all you want."
his words, coupled with the overstimulation between your bent and parted knees, send your brain down a cloudy, all-consuming spiral. too overwhelmed by the boys kneeling at your altar, you can hardly string together cohesive thoughts, let alone speak adequate praise for their efforts.
...as if trevor expected anything out of your mouth other than garbled, pathetic mumbling anyway.
not to mention, jamie found the spot that makes you see stars on the ceiling as his best friend was busy whispering filth into your ear, and he's been bullying it with his deft fingers—three of them now, buried down to the knuckle. he gives it a short, purposeful rub just to show off his treasure.
you shriek and buck your hips into mason's waiting mouth. as his head dips back down to nestle against you, the angle of jamie's fingers changes and your vision blurs just a tad.
trevor's amusement thunders in your ears as he keeps you from shying away from the new sensation, an arm looped around your waist keeping you tight to his bare chest. and good thing, too, seeing as mason's tongue slips in between jamie's fingers not a second later.
they're right and truly pleasuring you now, and you can't wait a second more.
you surrender.
and, as promised, you show them what real moans sound like from a woman—not that fake shit they subject you and trevor to through the walls on a semi-regular basis.
the sounds of you ripping at the seams spur them on, and it's starting to get difficult to discern who's to blame for the puddle beneath you. this are sloppier and more obscene than ever, and you're loving every single second of it, you almost feel like this is your gift and not theirs.
—which is why you nearly write it off as a trick of a pleasure-drunk mind.
you feel it against your sopping, swollen folds before they notice it themselves; in electing to run their tongues up and down the same path at the same time, their mouths mingled along the way—and continue to do so. the delicious, foreign sensation of their mouths tangled in a clandestine dance buys your silence. and easily.
sooner or later, they’d realize and your fun would mostly likely cease—they've never given any indication of feeling either way—and you weren’t about to speed the process along, especially not when you have the pearly gates in sight.
trevor's won't call attention to it either because he's enjoying it as much as you are. maybe more. he's twitching like crazy against the small of your back, and each time jamie and mason convene between your knees, his hips shamelessly rut into you softness like a feral dog.
he nudges you, warm lips against your cheek. "look."
giving your head a downward tilt, his firm hand directs your attention to the object of his—your boyfriend isn't the only one seeking respite by way of aimless grinding.
mason and jamie have their hips flush to your bed, their burning, sweat-stained cheeks glued to your inner thighs, one slightly scratchier than the other—the best of both worlds. their eyes are nearly black with lust. their frantic movements are more pleasure-seeking than precise, driving into the wrinkled sheets with just one thing in mind.
you've never seen anything quite like it before, and your body reacts in kind.
naturally, trevor sees the signs before anyone. he knows your body best, something he takes great pride in. you'd wager he knows more about what makes you tick than even you do. he's put in enough hours, that's for sure.
trevor doesn't bother disgusting the desire weighing on his voice, "beg."
your lips part as if on cue. your boyfriend (selfishly) indulges your pitiful little whines and repetitive pleas—he'll never pass up an opportunity to rub his handiwork in envious faces—but, eventually, he cuts you off before you get too far into the bit.
"—not you, silly bunny. them."
aghast, mason rips his mouth away and you whine at the sudden loss. jamie strokes your walls sympathetically.
"you're joking."
"does it sound like i'm joking, mctavish? you're lucky i'm even letting you see her like this, let alone touch what's mine, and it's a fucking privilege to watch her cum. convince me that you've earned it."
you weren't expecting to find it so erotic, the power trevor wields over them. you're no stranger to his persuasive prowess; his commands alone were enough to get you off some nights. but this is different, and markedly so.
watching him command his best friends—his friends, reducing them to docile creatures eager to eat from the palm of his hand with words alone, is what tips you over the edge.
their persistent chorus of compliance is swallowed entirely by your wanton cunt, but that was by design.
trevor always knows what you need.
when the dam in your abdomen fractures alongside your voice, he holds your wrists tight to his bare thighs, preventing you from grounding yourself in either of his friends' messy mops or finding purchase anywhere on his body. he can't have you distracted. he needs you to enjoy every second of it. your full, undivided attention must be on the pampering you're receiving, and the tender care with which his friends provide it.
it's okay if you're too weak—of mind, body or both—to make that happen for yourself. your boyfriend is more than willing to pin you down as you ride out your first high of the night. happy to, really.
on the come down, jamie rubs light, lazy circles over your sore, swollen clit almost apologetically. mason laps up your release because it'd be a crime to waste a drop—trevor made that abundantly clear earlier in the night. once he's drunk you dry, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
"i think i could, um, use a bit more practice?" he announces bashfully—as if he didn't just make you squirt into his mouth.
jamie perks up at his side, fingers and lips still shiny. he's savoring the fruit of their labors like a precious delicacy, knowing it could be the last time he gets a taste. dark lashes shy and fluttering, his puppy-dog eyes blink up at you. "me too."
a wicked smirk forms on trevor's face; they see it, you hear it.
"gentlemen, how's your stroke game?"
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J. Drysdale - Blind Dating
✄————————————
Jamie Drysdale x Fem!reader
Requested✨
Word Count: 2.5k
Warning(s): alcohol consumption.
The end is pretty fast paced but I’m considering making a part two if enough people like this!
—————————————
This had to be a joke.
I tapped my foot impatiently against the floor beneath the table. Watching the man across from me fidget with his menu, peeking over it occasionally with a wide grin to ask some sort of question. Was he five? His hair was parted down the middle, looking as if it was still drying from a shower. He had wide blue eyes.. doe eyes, warm and welcoming compared to my scowl. He was handsome, but I couldn’t get past his behavior.
“What do you think you’re gonna get?” His voice was soft, but curious. I wanted to reply with, ‘whatever I can finish the quickest to get out of here,’ but I held my tongue. “The shrimp Alfredo looks really good.. I’m just afraid it won’t taste the same.” I would admit he was mostly talking to himself. I wasn’t being very open. But his statement piqued my interest.
“The same as what?”
“I used to live in California, right next to the beach. All of the seafood was so fresh.” I watched his broad shoulders rise and fall in a shrug.
“That’s nice.” I looked down at the glass of water I held between my hands. This man was not very impressive. Nor did he seem overly confident. Or confident at all.
Could he sense my distaste?
“You can get something other than water.. I don’t want you to feel like you need to save my money.” His words brought a good reminder as to why I hadn’t walked out already. He was covering the whole meal.
“Thanks, but I’m avoiding much else at the moment.” I spoke, watching his big blue eyes look back up from the menu.
The fact that the man had been late was probably the driving factor that made me not want to give him a chance. I was never one to take to people who had a bad internal clock.
“So.. what do you do for a job?”
“I’m a journalist.” I answered his question briefly, my eyes wandering toward the window by our table.
“Nice! You must be pretty smart then.” An awkward chuckle fell from his lips. “I’d say I was okay in school.. but I never went to college. Just wasn’t my thing.”
“It’s not for everybody.” I shrugged, watching cars pull into the lot of the restaurant.
“Is this the first time you’ve done the whole.. blind dating thing?”
“No.”
“Oh.. this is my first time. I gotta admit I’m pretty nervous.”
“You don’t say,” the sarcastic phrase slipped ruthlessly from my lips. My gaze returned to the man to assess the damage, a momentary empathy filling my gaze. He simply chuckled again.
“I know.. my best friend always says I’m easy to read.”
“I’m sorry,” I apologized softly, leaning back in my seat.
“It’s okay.. I get it. I can imagine I’m the last person you expected to show up..” his voice trailed off into silence before he shrugged once more. “You are very pretty.”
Finally. A compliment. I smiled. He seemed to loosen up slightly at the sight. I had been raised on the ideal of returning a compliment with a compliment, so I indulged his words kindly.
“Thank you, Jamie. I’ll admit you have beautiful eyes.” I watched his cheeks flush, my disinterest morphing quickly into a twinge of attraction. He was cute when he blushed.
“Thanks..” he whispered before his head seemed to duck behind the wall that was his menu again. What was once annoying slowly turned into amusing. Maybe I could cut him some slack. “Do you have any idea what you want?” He asked once more.
“I really love clams.” I glanced down at my own menu, at the item I had picked out the moment we entered the building. This was one of my favorite restaurants.
“Ew,” I heard Jamie mumble from the safety of his side of the table. My brow furrowed.
“You don’t like clams?” I leaned forward.
“Never had them.”
“Then how can you hate them?” I quickly reached out to pull his menu down, catching Jamie off guard. He immediately sat up. For the first time since he sat down, he was exposed, having to sit with no barrier between us. I refused to believe someone as beautiful as him had confidence issues.
“They look gross.” Jamie reasoned with a nervous grin.
“You’re trying one.” I demanded, smirking and folding my arms across my chest.
“Absolutely not.” I drew in a breath to insist before our conversation was cut short. Our waitress waltzed by with a grin, pulling a notepad from her apron as she greeted us kindly, informing us of the specials and the house alcohols.
“What can I get you two?” She glanced between the two of us, and Jamie’s eyes settled on me as a silent signal to go first.
“Can I get the garlic butter clams with a side of fries?” The woman nodded kindly and jotted down the order before turning to Jamie, who happily requested his own meal.
“Shrimp Alfredo and a side salad with Italian dressing?”
“Anything else for the two of you?”
“Can we get a bottle of wine?” I asked swiftly, “not too expensive, but whatever you think is best.” I had told Jamie I didn’t need anything other than water, but he certainly needed to loosen up. Wine was always a good way to take the edge off.
“Of course. I’ll be right back with that!” The waitress gathered our menus and swiftly turned to leave. My eyes settled on Jamie.
“I hope you don’t mind,” I spoke.
“I don’t mind at all.” He smiled, “as long as you share.” Though it wasn’t the best of jokes, his attempt still made me chuckle.
“Why are you so nervous, Jamie?” I folded my arms atop of one another on the table, leaning forward against them,
“Oh god… where to start?” He laughed at himself, reaching upwards to brush his hair back. “Well first of all I was late… which really wasn’t my fault, and I’m sorry. I had to- stay over time at my job. Then I had to run home and grab a shower real quick. It threw off my whole plan. Then I came here and find you sitting all alone- and I just felt bad. But you look- like.. amazing. I feel like I could have dressed a little nicer. And you’re kinda intimidating. When I lived in California I usually had a wingman, now I’m flying solo.. it’s kinda scary. Not to mention I’m new to this whole area. I don’t know why I thought it was a good idea to go on a date so soon,” he seemed amused by his own misfortunes. A nice refreshing attitude to the usual of people whining and complaining. He drew in a deep breath only to sigh. “It’s been a long day, and I really didn’t want to mess this up. I still don’t.” It was the only explanation I needed. The judgement was lifted from my shoulders fairly quickly.
“It’s okay.. you haven’t messed anything up yet.” Less than minutes ago I would have had a different response. “Hopefully this wine’ll take the edge off too, yeah?” I watched Jamie’s anxieties melt away, nodding with a wide grin.
“Yeah.. that would be amazing.”
And it certainly was. The minute the wine came Jamie and I dove in. We opened up far more, and I learned a lot about the man in front of myself. He told jokes, he spoke about what he loved and what he was passionate about, and he asked a million questions about me. When our food came the conversation slowed but it didn’t stop. I was taken with his smile, his glow, his tentativeness. And just like he promised, when we finished eating, he paid for everything. I hadn’t planned on spending any more time than necessary with the man, at least not at first. But I’d admit the turn of events made me sad to think of the fact that I’d have to say goodbye. Or would I?
“I had an amazing night,” Jamie spoke as he stood from his chair, grabbing his coat off the back of it.
“I did too.. but it’s not over yet.” I watched his brow rise in surprise as I stood too. “We have one more stop.” I walked around the table and reached for him. Jamie had no problem with letting me take hid hand. We walked side by side out of the restaurant, and he made sure to hold the door for me. “We should get an Uber,” I suggested, reaching for my phone. Though Jamie was quick to argue.
“No, they take too long. I’ll call a friend.” We sat down beside one another on the bench outside of the building. I leaned into Jamie’s side for warmth, and he was swift to wrap his arm around me while he dialed a number on his phone.
“Hey…”
I tuned out the conversation as I watched cars drive in and out of the lot. I relished in Jamie’s warmth, though I also told myself I was crazy for giving in to him so easily. I usually wasn’t into men like him. But he was certainly an exception.
“My friend said he’ll be over in five minutes.” I nodded as Jamie spoke.
“That’s pretty fast.”
“He’s really supportive.” Jamie laughed softly. “Where are we headed?”
“Cant say.”
“As long as you don’t axe murder me.” I rolled my eyes and laughed at the brunette’s words.
“You’re safe with me, Jamie.”
“That’s good.” I looked up at him, only to find him staring back. His blue eyes held questions I couldn’t decipher.
“What?” I finally asked, breaking the silence and recognizing the closeness.
“Nothing,” he whispered. “Nothing at all.” I smiled at his words. “You’re very pretty.” My heart fluttered and I looked away.
“Jamie,” I scolded, not wanting to be flustered.
“I’m serious,” he insisted with a giggle. I felt a cold hand touch the side of my neck as he moved my hair. I shivered. “Your beauty is more intimidating than your scowl.” He teased, causing my head to whip back in his direction. I swatted the man’s chest, laughing along with him as he found humor in his own joke.
“You’re mean,” I pouted.
“Please tell me where we’re going.” I laughed, watching his baby blues adopt a puppy dog stare.
“No way. Quit asking.” I pushed myself away from him, only to have him snatch my arm and pull me right back. I laughed, standing to try and get away before he followed suit. Jamie scooped me up into his arms, holding my back against his chest. All I could focus on was his beautiful laughter.
“Please-“ the honk of a horn cut him off. We both looked to see a bright red truck pulling up to the entrance of the building. “Oh wow.. that was fast,” Jamie mumbled before releasing me. He walked to the edge of the sidewalk and opened the back door of the truck. “Ladies first.” He held my hand as I stepped up into the vehicle, and Jamie was quick to follow suit.
“Seems like this date’s going well.” The man in the front seat turned to look at us. “Where are we headed?” I stood up and leaned over the middle console to speak with the man. We eventually settled on typing the address of the location into his phone before I fell back into my seat. The man let out a long whistle that I could tell intrigued Jamie. “Seems like this date is going really well.” The man teased.
“Where are you taking me?” Jamie insisted on asking. I ignored his question, and each one that followed for the entirety of the ride. His focus shifted from myself to the scenery out the window when he noticed we were leaving the city. It wasn’t a long drive, but it was far enough out of the suburbs to be intriguing. We crossed a few bridges, and found ourselves in the midst of a riverside neighborhood before Jamie started to put two and two together. The calm, ‘you have arrived’ of the GPS caused him to look back at me.
“Is this your house?”
“Surprise?” I pushed the car door open and slipped out. “Join me.” It wasn’t a demand. More so a request. Jamie had no issue saying yes. He followed me out of the car.
“Be safe!” The man in the truck called.
“Thanks Ty!” Jamie waved as his friend left, and I was quick to begin rummaging through my clutch for my house keys.
“You live on the river?”
“Wait ‘till you see my back deck.” I guided him to the front door, opening the glass door and unlocking the deadbolt of the actual door. I stepped inside and kicked my flats off as Jamie followed, toeing off his dress shoes. My home was a patchwork of decor. My walls were lined with a fresh yet old looking floral wallpaper, I had China cabinets full of old glassware my grandparents had passed down to me. Somewhere I had knitted quilts and a shelf full of inherited thymbols. The scent of fresh flowers was the leading smell in the home, and Jamie was quick to find the source of that scent as I closed the door. I turned to find him sniffing the pot full of dahlias seated on a stand by the window next to the door.
Why had I never been into men like this before? Whatever uncertainties I had about bringing him home slowly melted away.
“Want anything to drink?” I asked softly, catching his attention.
“What do you have?”
“Fresh iced tea, pop, water.”
“Tea would be nice.” Jamie followed me into the kitchen, taking in the decor as I poured two glasses of tea. When I was done I led him out of the kitchen and into the dining room, giving him his cup. I walked past the table, opening the sliding glass doors to the back deck that stretched out over the riverbank. The fairy lights strung on the roof of the deck glowed in a comforting way. I opened the window next to the glass door where my record player sat.
“You have a beautiful home,” Jamie spoke softly while I searched for a record. I found one and set it up to play before turning the device on.
“Thank you. I don’t like too many modern things.” I stepped outside with Jamie, and sat down on the swing at the edge of the deck. Jamie sat with me.
“Is there a reason you brought me here?”
“It’s private. Intimate.” I shrugged, eyes settling on the river.
“You trust me?”
“Asks the man who hid behind his menu when he sat down. I’d say there isn’t much to be cautious of.” I teased, laughing softly. I turned to face him, draping my legs over his own and leaning my back against one of the arm rests of the swing. “I don’t like to bring men home.” I admitted before taking a sip of my tea. “But that’s because many of them aren’t like you.”
“Thanks?”
“You’re more than welcome to stay the night.” I peeked at him, watching his lips turn upwards into a smile. “I’d hate to make your friend drive back out here this evening.”
“That’s the only reason?” Jamie asked teasingly, resting his free hand on my shin. I laughed.
“Maybe I have more.. but they’re secrets.” I shrugged. “Let’s just say it was a good first date.”
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main masterlist | spooky masterlist (2022)
pairing: jamie drysdale x f!reader (established relationship)
warning(s): spoilers for halloween ends (2022) and minor references to return to oz (1985), descriptions of movie deaths at the hands of mr. meyers and other characters, a singular child towards the end (but lindsey is cool though so its fine), 18+ content - minors dni or you will be blocked
{ sexual activities on someone else’s couch, fingering - fem!receiving, praise-heavy dirty talk, lovey-dovey cuddle-fucking from behind, everyone has a corruption kink, unprotected PIV + creampie bc its silly little fiction with no real-life consequences, a few little bites and discussion of past hickeys/love bites, blink and you’ll miss it butt stuff, reference to past public sex, using the lord’s name in vain }
word count: 3k bc i have no self-control
synopsis: the reader hates scary movies. jamie loves them, but for one very specific reason...
note: jamie anon, this ones for you...it was only a matter of time before this appeared. also, i just want to say it was very strange writing about hating horror because that's actually my genre of choice haha and i know i don't have to apologize but i am sorry this is like a week or more late...things got a little too spooky-ooky for me and i literally could not function, let alone finish things to post. hope you'll still enjoy the belated content!
likes, comments + reblogs are very much appreciated :)
"We just had to put on this movie, and now you're not even watching it," you say through a breath of palpable annoyance.
You hate scary movies. Always have and probably always will. Why anyone would voluntarily be scared - and elect to the experience repeatedly, is beyond you.
Your boyfriend, Jamie, loves them. He can’t get enough. To be frank, it’s the only kind of movie he’ll actually sit down and watch. And, while you may be complaining, you don’t have much room to. He’s doing you a favor by being here. He could be a keg-deep and a joint-high at the best party of the year right now, and you wouldn’t hold it against him. Instead, he’s curled up on the Wallaces’ couch all because you had to babysit last minute.
One selfless act does not permit him to be a little shit, though.
“I am,” Jamie says before lightly pressing a sweet kiss to your jugular. It’s his third in the last five minutes, but easily the most loaded. “I’m definitely watching, babe. You can quiz me if you think I’m lying.”
“What good would that do, huh?" you snort. "Considering we've already seen this movie before. Last week, when it came out and you dragged me to the theater, even though you know how I feel. Not just about Michael Meyers but scary mov—”
“Shhhh! I can’t hear what Laurie’s saying to Allyson,” Jamie teasingly cuts off your ranting, and you huff. His laughter soaks your hair.
You groan and reach for the remote.
Lindsey’s parents would be home soon anyway. They promised the company costume party wouldn’t run too late, and it was almost midnight. Mrs. Wallace even promised they’d try to sneak out early, already feeling guilty you had to cover for Annie on such short notice, before she'd even walked out the door. (Annie, who you knew from a GE course freshman year, told them she was bedridden with the flu, but you passed her and Lynda in matching space cowgirl costumes on the way over). Both of Lindsey’s parents insisted you make yourself at home, but you didn’t think that meant letting your boyfriend blast a violent R-rated movie with their eight-year-old just up the stairs. Heavy-sleeper, or not.
Jamie catches your waist, pulling you back against his chest. Your fingers barely grazed the plastic before it was out of reach again.
“Tell me you’d rather watch the movie.” His words are hot against your skin as his hands wander just beneath the waistband of your yoga pants.
Slowly, as if not to spook you, Jamie slides his fingers down your stomach and over the thin material pulled over your center - the only barrier left between you. You shudder, and against your better judgment, grind against his palm. Grinning, he begins to rub gentle circles over your sensitive clit. Jamie presses a little harder with the heel of his hand, and then lowers his voice to a whisper, “Tell me to stop and I will. I’ll even sit on the other end of the couch until they come home if you want me to. Just say the word, baby.”
But his greedy hands can't wait for your answer. They pursue your budding release relentlessly. While a few peel the cumbersome fabric to the side, the rest lightly stroke your sodden folds with the same fondness as his warm palm against yours strolling through campus. They possess the same generosity as your perpetually full gas tank and the flowers perched on your nightstand that never seem to wilt. The same hunger as his lips against yours the very first night you met, and they're dripping with the same intensity as Trevor's drunken fist against the locked bathroom door thirty minutes later.
They, however, lack the patience you’ve unintentionally cultivated throughout your years-long relationship with the boisterous defenseman.
In one fluid motion, two dexterous digits push past your wanton entrance to caress your inner walls. You whine through gritted teeth, unable to hide how much you love the attention. He strokes once, relishing in your airy moans, then again, and then…
Stops.
Frustrated, you tilt your pelvis. You hope the silent gesture would encourage him to keep going; it was just starting to get good. Just when you think he’ll surrender, the traitorous fingers fade away. A gravelly, needy sound of protest leaves your mouth as you cling onto his wrist.
Jamie smiles against your shoulder, pleased with himself and the teasing. His day-old scruff tickles your skin as he dips back inside.
“No, I didn’t think so. Even if you would've said otherwise, your body never lies. Especially not to me, sweet girl. You’ve been slowly inching your ass closer to my dick since the title card, and you think I didn’t notice? And right now, I can feel you rubbing yourself against me while I’m petting your pretty clit.”
“Shut up,” you breathe, head falling back against his shoulder as Jamie shifts your leg back and over his thigh.
For once, he listens. Your boyfriend redirects the energy normally reserved for and devoted to sass into assured flicks of his wrist. With this new angle, graciously provided by only the slightest adjustment, he thrives. Each thrust feels impossibly better than the last. So much so that you’re forced to sink your teeth into the meat of your palm to keep the sporadic moans at bay, all too aware of your surroundings.
This white-hot pleasure is almost enough to curb your innate reaction to the savagery that fills the screen as Corey mows Margot down with the tow truck, brutally pinning her to the dirt. Almost enough. The ambient noises and musical cues would've been enough to raise your pulse all on their own, but the grotesque visual of Stacy and Terry’s subsequent deaths sends your body trembling into your boyfriend’s chest. Your eyes screw shut as if that would be enough to shove the blood and gore and charred flesh from your mind.
“Don’t close your eyes,” Jamie pleads. His hand, as soft and sweet as his voice, turns your chin back towards the glowing screen.
Corey’d returned to finish Margot off. Her desperate pleas for mercy burn your ears. Still, you keep watching. Your need to please your boyfriend is stronger than your aversion to horror it seems, you think to yourself as the teenager's head is wrapped in barbed wire. The boyfriend in question hums against your neck as Corey’s foot caves the poor girl’s face in. Your body clenches and twists in response to the brazen brutality, squeezing his fingers for dear life as the false protagonist seals her fate with his bumper.
“God, I love how tightly you grip me when you’re scared,” Jamie says. He nibbles lightly on your earlobe until you shiver. He kisses his way across your jaw and down your neck, dotting the skin with nips every few seconds, following a path fashioned from the fading love bites of past trysts. Sweaty memories swirl in your mind each time his mouth presses against one. The few, faint indentations he makes are quickly soothed by his well-mannered tongue. "I love how you cower against me every time the killers show up and someone kicks the bucket. I love that you trust me to protect you."
Jamie’s gluttonous middle finger breaks from the rest; his calloused thumb picks up the slack. Leisurely, the rogue slides down to rest against your tightly puckered hole. You jolt, unprepared for the sensation of his fingertip, frosty and foreign, against the uncharted territory. For a few moments, he seems content to stay there, immobile, as the rest of his fingers remain hard at work, deep inside of you. But, eventually, it too grows impatient and begins to move in circles. The benign touch is featherlight and perfect. Just enough additional pressure to have you melting into his warm body.
As one palm completely covers your mound, the other massages your chest.
“Stay just like that, pretty girl. Keep watching the movie while I make you feel good,” your boyfriend murmurs as he swiftly yanks everything down to your knees. When his full attention returns to your folds, the middle finger rejoins the others. “Gotta get you ready for me. Gotta get you all wet and open to take my thick cock in that tight pussy of yours - to take my hot load.”
He’s always had a filthy mouth. It’s what made you take notice of him in the first place. A few moments alone with that silver tongue of his and you were a goner. In one night, your now-boyfriend proved just how powerful words could be and he’s affirmed it every day since. Sometimes more than once...
Jamie Drysdale comes across docile and squeaky-clean, and while he can be both of those things when the occasion calls, it would be generous to say its skin deep. The modesty is like a shell, like a disguise. Lurking beneath the surface is an indecent heathen. Depraved and hell-bent on bewitching your mind with obscenity, your boyfriend delighted in your eventual sexual liberation.
The “you” that existed before him would’ve never thought to do something like this. She couldn’t have even imagined it, let alone fantasized about it. She would've never allowed a boyfriend to touch her like this on someone else's couch. Jamie Drysdale teased open your mind and roused a part of you, blasphemous and unashamed, that now lived for the thrill of surpassing his ferocity. You’ve tasted sin and you never want to go back.
Somehow surviving the violence dispelled by Laurie Strode and his own hand, Corey writhes on-screen. Your heartbeat thunders in your ears so loudly you barely hear the horrible crack as Michael efficiently finishes the job, but you whimper and shake all the same.
In the haze of both fear and euphoria, you miss Jamie freeing himself from the confines of his sweatpants. It isn’t until the head of his dick, feverish and eager, brushes alongside his fingers that you realize. He moves his hand out of the way, but before you can whine at the loss of contact, the replacement arrives. Far superior to his fingers in both girth and length, Jamie takes his time coating himself in your arousal. He fucks between your thighs and with each pass, the tip bumps your swollen bud.
Back and forth, back and forth.
"Please, Jamie. I need you to stop teasing. I can't take it anymore. I have to have you inside me. Please stretch me out until I’m ruined forever,” you beg in a voice you don’t recognize as your own. The woman speaking has no shame, her words as lewd as they are crass. But they are perfect, tailor-made to coax exactly what you want from your boyfriend and his perverted mind. “If I don’t have you inside of me soon, I’ll die. Jamie —”
“So impatient,” he chides playfully with a click of his tongue. “Go on then, pretty girl, no need for the dramatics. Take me inside that sweet, little hole.”
He adjusts himself and shallowly pushes in, kindly giving you a head-start. Ravenous, you waste no time pushing yourself back until you’ve swallowed him whole. Hips flush against his, you knead him with your walls.
Jamie’s forehead burrows into the crook of your neck. His voice is dark and raspy as he grips your hips, “Fuck yeah, baby. I can feel how badly you need my cum. I can barely think with you sucking me in like that, Jesus Christ. My greedy, greedy girl. I’ve spoiled you rotten, haven’t I?”
Your boyfriend regains control - though he never truly lost it, carefully dragging you over the full length of his dick. Over and over until you lose track of where one thrusts ends and the next begins.
The slow nature of his movements elevates the climax of the film. You're almost forced to watch the nearly fifty years of conflict unravel again. Your face tenses as Laurie dumps the fridge onto The Shape with a booming crash, knowing how the scene pans out. Your skin folds in on itself when the antagonist wrenches himself free and begins strangling his Final Girl for the last time.
All self-control dissipates with the cinematic tension and Jamie’s salacious whispers, allowing an animalistic howl to rip free from your chest unhindered. Immediately, your boyfriend’s hand cements itself over your mouth.
“As crazy as that drives me — and as pretty as you sound, you can’t do it so fucking loudly. Not right now. We wouldn’t want Lindsey to wake up and ruin the fun, now would we?” he asks and you shake your head as much as you can behind his palm. Convinced, he coasts the hand back to your chest. “The trick is to stay quiet. You can do that for me, can’t you?” This time you nod, teeth digging into your bottom lip in order to uphold your word.
"God, you’re such a good girl. Always such a good girl for me.”
His complimentary words make you preen. Driven by praise, you keep your moans and whimpers as soft and private as you possibly can. More than a few slip through the cracks, but Jamie is always there to quiet them with his mouth. Though, it’s often not enough. The hellion his dick draws forth knows no bounds and cares not for consequences.
“This is the only reason I like scary movies,” your boyfriend admits, attempting to distract your mind with new information. It works like a charm, and you work diligently to subdue your own noises just to hear him clearly. “Two glorious, uninterrupted hours of your pussy milking my dick. Or my fingers, if I’m lucky enough to get you into a theater. No matter how much you complain, I know you like it too. Play with your clit while I fuck you. Show me how much you like finding comfort in my cock; make yourself cum all over me while I pump you full.”
The hand that reaches your clit is shaky and less experienced than his, but you’re so spun out that it doesn’t matter. Not even remotely. In all honesty, a gentle breeze could’ve passed over your body and it would’ve had a similar effect. It’s all supplementary, anyway.
Jamie tilts your head to capture your lips, drinking in your moans. As his thrusts grow increasingly erratic, he chants your name over and over like prayer. Like it’ll deliver the salvation that isn't, and will never, come.
You’re drunk on jump scares and your boyfriend’s dick, unable to control how or when your body tenses or arches. Mouth falling open against his, you give in. Fully, and without delay.
As molten pleasure courses through your veins, it erupts from Jamie. He fucks you through the torrents, ragged breaths fanning over your neck and cheek to commune with the thin sheen of sweat covering every inch of you. Already overheating from the blanket draped over the place where you interlock, the tandem, red-hot climax sears into your body with little effort.
“God damn,” your boyfriend mutters, though it’s more air than words, as you both gradually slip from the summit and back into reality. You’re too gone to respond with more than a short nod.
Lindsey calls your name from the top of the stairs. Her voice is wobbly, thick with sleep and confusion.
Jamie pulls out and you scramble to redress.
“Are you okay?” You holler back, voice just as broken and heavy as hers had been.
Jamie chuckles, thoroughly amused. You smack him across the chest and click off the television just as the town begins congregating around Michael’s limp body in the salvage yard.
This was certainly not funny and potentially very bad, depending on what she heard and how her adolescent mind tried to make sense of it. Therefore, he needs to shut up. The only immediate liability is your boyfriend and his huge fucking mouth.
“Are you okay?” Lindsey flips your question on its head as her little footsteps travel down the staircase. She pads into her darkened living room with a quizzical look on her innocent face. She stops about a foot away from the couch, her hands resting atop her hips like a skeptical parent. “I heard screaming.”
You clear your throat and sit up a little further. Jamie’s cum drips bleeds onto your panties. You do your best to ignore the warm rush. “It was just some scary movie we found on TV. Nothing to worry about. Do you need me to go up and tuck you back in?”
“Are you sure?” Lindsey asks, ignoring your question in favor of her own. Maybe your fib was less convincing than you thought. Or maybe she just remembers what happened when you watched Monster House together last weekend. Whatever reason, she steps closer as though she’s determined to catch you in something, anything. Her eyes narrow, “Your face is all gross and sweaty, and you’re out of breath.”
You sputter, panicking. You can’t even think straight, let alone drum up anything believable to placate the relentlessly inquisitive child.
Your boyfriend saves your ass, and for the second time tonight. “She’s fine, kiddo. A scaredy cat, but she’s fine.”
At that, Lindsey’s face positively glows. Eyes wide with glee, she cheers, “So, it’s not just Return to Oz that makes you all squirmy and nervous!”
Jamie chuckles and pecks your cheek. It seems the only thing he loves more than teasing you during scary movies is teasing you about them.
“Does she make you skip through —”
“The Wheelers?” Lindsey finishes, eyes sparkling. She's thrilled to have found a partner in her ridicule. As is he. “Oh yeah. If I don’t, she’ll refuse to take me for ice cream for a whole week."
Your boyfriend leans forward, grinning like the cat who caught the canary. “And what’s the punishment for Princess Mombi’s castle of severed heads?”
Annoyed at them and the flashbacks they've caused, you toss your head back against the couch and groan, “You both are the worst.”
Lindsey sticks her tongue out. “At least I’m not a wimp like you.”
“Hey now, let’s check the ’tude, little lady. That’s my wimp you’re talking about,” Jamie says.
He’s defending your honor against an eight-year-old, and he’s doing it with a smile.
It's hard to believe he’s the same man that just came inside of you, shamelessly and on someone else’s couch.
────────────
main masterlist
fuel MY praise kink...pretty please :)
sun to me | jamie drysdale
word count: 1.19k
summary: attempting long distance makes it clear to you and jamie that you need each other
warnings: loneliness, sad jamie, kissing, tiny bit of cursing
notes: loooove this one
Jamie was sprawled out on his bed in his cramped apartment in Philadelphia, staring blankly at the empty walls. He hadn’t decorated yet, let alone had the proper furniture. His bed was simply a mattress on the floor, his coffee table doubling as a kitchen table.
Jamie had been in Philly for about a month now. You’d think a month was enough to adjust to a new city, and while he had settled into a routine and gotten comfortable with all of the city’s quirks, something still felt off.
It was you. He missed you deeply. Your laughter, your presence, your comfort. You were his anchor. But you were tied to your job over 2,000 miles away in Anaheim. You guys had discussed this before he left, that 3 months wasn’t that long and you could withstand it. Then, at the season's end, you’d talk about your future together.
However, here you both were, on opposite sides of the country, distance putting a strain on the both of you.
Jamie did his normal pre-game routine with you on his mind. He thought of the fact that you were probably at work right now, wrapping up final tasks, before heading home and putting on the Flyers game. It was a miracle he found someone as supportive as you, willing to put up with the long days and stress that being a professional athlete could bring.
Each game he played knowing that when he got home he wouldn’t be coming home to you made them harder and harder. The facetimes and calls were not enough anymore and the strain on Jamie was starting to show in his gameplay. Today’s game was horrible. Jamie was benched for almost the entire third after he gave up 3 separate turnovers. Amidst the rowdy Philadelphia crowd, upset that their team was losing, his mind wandered to you. It was always you.
Jamie kept to himself while getting changed and showering, truly wanting to go home just to call you. After an unbearable 5 minutes with the media, Jamie trudged out of the locker room, shoulders slumped and spirits in the basement. Walking down the hall, Jamie feels an arm hook around his shoulders.
“Why the long face?” Cam asks.
Jamie shrugs off Cam's arm, his mind still reeling. "Just had a rough game, man. Ready to get out of here."
Cam flashes him a sly, knowing grin. “It’ll pick up soon, bud.” He says.
Jamie ignores his teammates' words, continuing down the halls of the Wells Fargo Centre. As he turned the bend, greeted by a myriad of voices, there you were.
Jamie could’ve sworn he was seeing things, maybe reaching a point of delusion. But there you were, standing with his teammates' girlfriends. Jamie’s heart lifted upon seeing you, the weight of a thousand worlds falling behind him as he headed straight for you. When he reached you, his arms enveloped you in a tight embrace.
The world around him fades away leaving only you two suspended in this moment. His touch is firm yet gentle, a silent declaration of his need for your presence, your comfort.
“Hi, James.” You say softly into his chest. Your delicate tone nearly sends Jamie over the edge, the reality of everything catching up to him, tears threatening to prick at his eyes.
“Hi, baby.” He says softly. You guys stay there for a few more moments before you force Jamie to walk to his car with you.
Deciding you had so much to talk about, Jamie drove you to a park to walk around while you guys spoke. You intertwined your fingers with Jamie's, drawing strength from the reassuring warmth of his touch. The weight of your words hung heavy in the air, a tangible reminder of the struggles you had endured during your time apart.
“So, what are you doing here?” Jamie asks, his grin having still not faded since first seeing you.
“I had to see you…” You tell him. “So I took two weeks off.”
“You did what?” Jamie asked.
“Jamie, I missed you so much, it was almost unbearable.” You confessed, your voice conveying the pain it had truly caused you. “With the time difference and our weird, conflicting schedules… I had to come and see you.”
Jamie's expression softened, his gaze filled with empathy as he listened to your words. He understood all too well the pain of separation, the relentless tug of loneliness that pulled at his heart with every passing day.
“Y/n, I missed you too. I’ve been fucking miserable.” Jamie said, a small chuckle escaping as he recounts the past couple of days. “It's like… no matter how many times we talk on the phone or text each other, it's never enough. I need you here with me, physically, emotionally… I just…”
Jamie suddenly stops walking, turning to face you.
“Marry me.”
The words were out of Jamie’s mouth before he knew it, the both of you sharing the same shocked reaction to his words. The unexpected proposal makes you freeze, your heart skipping a beat. Despite them being blurted out, Jamie knew that they were real feelings.
“W-what?” You ask. It felt as though time stood still as you processed his words. Jamie takes both of your hands in his, his eyes glimmering.
“I’m serious. Marry me.” He says again. “These last couple of months have been…fucking hell on earth. I’ve been miserable. And for a while, I couldn’t figure out what was wrong. At first, I thought it was the lack of sun… or maybe it was taking me a little longer than I thought to adjust to a new city. But it was you. I couldn’t bear not having you with me.”
Your heart was pounding in your chest, jaw open slack as you were processing his words.
“I want you here in Philly, with me. And whatever it takes.” Jamie says. “You can get another job here, in Philly, I’m sure the guys of their wives have connections here and they could help. Or don’t work! I can support you, I don’t care. What I’m trying to say is-”
You cut off Jamie’s rambling, pressing your lips to his, effectively shutting him up. Your lips melded together, picking up as if you had never been separated. As you parted, a small smile graced your lips. Jamie’s eyes scanned your face, desperate to read what you were thinking.
"Yes," you said, your voice steady with resolve. "Yes, I will marry you. And yes, I will come live with you in Philadelphia. We can figure everything else out later.”
Jamie let out a huff of relief before scooping you up in his arms and spinning you above the ground. You squeal, your laughter ringing like a melody in Jamie’s ears.
“Oh my god, I have a wife!” Jamie cheered loudly.
He leans down pressing a kiss to your lips, holding you close once again. As you held each other close, the weight of loneliness lifted from Jamie's heart, replaced by the comforting certainty of your presence.
“I love you so much.” Jamie whispers against your lips.
˗ˏˋ main masterlist ˎˊ˗
an accidental blurb verse inspired by this post.
#1 — not in a position to be picky... #2 — embarrassed, or embarrassingly turned on? #3 — back where it belongs #4 — playing hard to get
with more to come…
tag(s) — #spit saga | #in conversation: spit saga
my inbox my main blog — @holy-pucks
˗ˏˋ main masterlist ˎˊ˗
an accidental blurb verse inspired by this post.
#1 — not in a position to be picky... #2 — embarrassed, or embarrassingly turned on? #3 — back where it belongs #4 — playing hard to get
with more to come…
tag(s) — #spit saga | #in conversation: spit saga
my inbox my main blog — @holy-pucks
spit kink jamie doing something to me. it’d be so funny to see what his friends would say the first few times you guys did it in front of them
spit saga masterlist
patreon saw it first! (on may 1, 2024)
ashdhdjk i love love love thinking abt this <3 ty for prompting me to actually write abt it (+ spit kink origin details — if you want more of a narrative, lmk!)
cw — alcohol consumption, doing lewd things in public places, sexual experimentation + kink exploration, d/s dynamics + smidge of brat taming, manhandling, having meddling menaces for friends
i feel like the very first time was accidental? or, at least, not premeditated. it just sorta happened, and its not inherently sexual.
like, maybe you both are a lil tipsy and you want a sip but he's being a jerk (affectionate) and trying to keep it away from you, eventually spilling it. all but what's in his mouth still... he taps your thigh and tilts his head back towards the kitchen, silently telling you to get up and he'll make you another one to share and you're like... or not? (bestie girl's really letting those intrusive thoughts win) and he's like oh 🤨 oh 😏
then he just... does it? casually. zero hesitation. no fanfare. jamie doesn't even check for on-lookers or think before he grabs your jaw, leans over, and spits whatever he'd been sipping straight into your mouth. and he definitely laughs at your shocked expression and the not-so-subtle clench of your thighs.
"i think you might've liked that more than you should."
"you're one to talk." — drawing attention to the tent in his pants :)
for some reason, i don't think y'all were necessarily "kinky" before this became a thing. you were comfortable and adventurous and playful, sure, but you never ventured too far off of the beaten path. this kinda unlocked a door for you... and everyone could tell and they constantly make jokes about it. like, "who would've thought jd and his girl, of all people, would swapping spit like birds on the reg" or jokingly patting him on the back because they "didn't think he had it in him" with regards to ~brat-taming~ because it was so out of left field (for them — we all know its the "quiet," normal-looking ones you gotta watch out for). i think they saw him do it from across the room/yard the very first time, but didn't think much of it because it was SO casual and it could be chalked up to drunkenness (but don't think this means they don't tease you both the next morning). then they saw it a second time... and a third... and it just kept happening?? (def get called "sick" and "disgusting" because if twenty-something boys are gonna do one thing, its hypocritically kink shame! and you know it comes from a place of jealousy, duh) but they never seriously protest because #freeshow
i do think there's a bit of shyness the first couple of times (back before you abandoned all sense of decorum). you don't ask for it upfront: you quietly ask for "sips" from his water or whatever he's drinking at the time. but everyone (and i mean everyone) knows what you're actually asking jamie for. or, rather, what you're asking him to do. even if they can't hear you or missed the initial request, your and jamie's eyes say enough (+ jamie keeps adjusting himself, and is bright red. for a little while, you cling to the ruse, bashful as you hide behind an innocent front. that is, when jamie isn't a menace who makes you "use your words" to ask for what you want 😵💫
jamie's no better, always tapping your jaw or your cheeks, or parting your lips with his thumb. no words necessary. procedural knowledge. as mindless as brushing your teeth or riding a bicycle. it brings you both immense satisfaction to move like this, to be so effortlessly in-sync. its a different kind of intimacy, like having a secret language, and it just makes everything else (sexual and not) feel better.
when you're in public or around friends, its short and sweet (usually — because there are... exceptions), intended to scratch the itch without causing too much of a scene, and that's about it. but when you're alone? he drags that shit out. makes you work for it, makes you cry for it. he wants you squirming and pouting and begging like a puppy desperate for a treat before he indulges you both. this, too, is done without conscious thought on his part. he acts in the moment, responding and reacting to your behavior, then recalls what he learned the next time an opportunity arises.
the "pleading period" grows as time goes on (as his resolve strengthens and your embarrassment fades). sometimes, its just because. because he can, because you let him. for his own amusement, to test your endurance, as foreplay. and he's not afraid to use your neediness against you whenever you're a brat (which is often — y'all get off on the push-and-pull / verbal sparring).
eventually, you have zero shame. sometimes, you'll ask nicely for it (jamie says this is his favorite, but everyone knows he LOVES when your claws come out). other times, you just walk up to him, open your mouth, and blink at him expectantly. he'll act all put-out and annoyed, sighing and rolling his eyes, but he stops what he's doing to tend to you, his sarcastic "happy now?" dripping with lust. jamie acts like its some big, annoying inconvenience, as if he didn't do it repeatedly of his own volition the night before?? or that he didn't walk into the room, grab your jaw from behind, then go about his business like nothing happened...
once your friends realize this shenanigan is here to stay get used to it, they definitely goad you both. not necessarily because they want to see the actual spit situation, but because its too damn fun to rile you up and pit you against one another. i feel like you n tz get into a lot of mischief in general, so its no surprise he's probably the main culprit when it comes to egging you on / pushing jamie's buttons for shits n giggs :) and i would't put it past anyone to create situations that make you irritable and bratty just to piss off your boyfriend — they think him trying to be a disciplinarian and being all authoritative top tier comedy.
it takes a lot to trigger a jd outburst, and this spit kink is like a cheat code...
i'm never gonna shut up abt this (and neither should u!!)
hockey fic recs
this list made my realize how much I read about Quinn lol. please enjoy this list of my favourite fics of your favourite players and support the very talented authors!!
more fic recs with other players will be added soon!!
𖤓 = smut
Quinn Hughes
homeward | capquinn normally I'm not super into reading pics that involve pregnancy or kids but this one had me in all my feels. watching reader and Quinn get the life they deserve was so much fun
loving him was red | sweetestdesire 𖤓 okay this one is HOT I love how Quinn just wants to make reader feel good and is so so caring
bicep shy | hugheshugs as a shy girlie myself this one was sooooo cute. I absolutely love how patient Quinn is with reader. this one had me blushing
more than a memory | blueskrugs I read this for the first time while I was reading every summer after and the connections between the two are sooooo cute
oh, my my my | sweetteainthesummerx as a ts girlie with dreams of a real life childhood friends to lovers love story, this one checked all my boxes VERY, and I mean VERY cute
can I be close to you? | 43-hugs the slowwwww burn in this holy shit. I was reading this with a giant smile on my face
explodin' (like a golf ball) | puck-luck 𖤓 this one is so so hot and I absolutely loved the dialogue. Quinn is such a tease and I ate it up
dishes in the sink | hhughes this one feels very domestic and Quinn is very cute here
oliver the orca | mattatouilletkachuk THE HOCKEY BABIES AU!!!!! this one was very very cute!!!
day by day, year after year | 13-hugs 𖤓 THIS ONE OMG its absolutely everything is such a roller coaster as so cute!
Luke Hughes
lakeside kisses | zebrasdrysdale i absolutely love friends to lovers and this fit is no exception. I also love how all they boys knew they were meant to be
under wraps | star2fishmeg 𖤓 another friends to loverssssss and this one is very cute but also hot. I love hype man Dylan in this lol lol
friends with feelings | resilientwins 𖤓 I LOVE LUKE IN THIS LOL. this one has me absolutely giggling
a bed for two | resilientwins I love reader is Lukes banter in this and when they finally give and and hold each other so cuteeeeeee
birthday blues and a matchmaking hughes | resilientwins resilientwins I am your biggest fan!!!!!! legit obsessed with every single one of their fics
blushing | hearts4hughes the teasing in this is so cute and I'm obsessedddd
invisible string | hugshughes Taylor Swift and the kiss in the rain??!! I'm screaming
in the morning light | theemporium 𖤓 this one is so hot hellooo?? Luke is such a gentle lover in this fic and I absolutely love it
practice makes perfect | misshoneyimhome 𖤓 this one is so cute and I love how flustered Luke gets
Cole Caufield
four weddings and a funeral | thewintersoldierdisaster. THE BUILD UP. this fic is so so good and Cole is so sweet in it. I loved the relationship between reader and Trevor and in the ending he is so funny
frat fever | puck-luck 𖤓 Cole is so so toxic in this but I ate every word up and I can't blame reader because I would have folded for him as well because hellllooooo look at him
hey stephen | nhlclover I love love love the pining in this! watching reader and Cole get nervous infront of each other was so cuteeee and the fearless mention yassssss
Jamie Drysdale
always trust the match maker | drysdalesworld this one is very sweet and makes me smile a lot. I was kicking my feet when reader and Jamie fell asleep on the couch
about a month | adorethedistance Jamie and Trevors bater is so cute and funny in this
NAH F OFF RIGHT NOW
JUST CUS CUTTER DOESN’T LIKE THE FLYERS