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got-pucks · 1 month

Text

sid to a furry friend's rescue!

florist!reader gets flustered during sid's calendar shoot

parents mentors for the day

someone's going on a date with chief crosby... and it ain't our girl </3

gif from @matbaerzal

To Sidney, this sham is nothing more than a meat-market legitimized. His fierce, formidable crew, flaunted and auctioned off in the name of "charity," as upstanding members of the local community brazenly gawk and drink themselves into a courageous stupor.

Gathered in packs around the local watering hole on a Friday night, the only things missing are high-res Animal Planet cameras and the calm wonder of Sir David Attenborough. It's only a matter of time before they start throwing themselves at each other like elk during mating season.

It's a shame Sidney won't be around to see it.

"Don't even think about it, Chief."

Sidney slumps; he spoke too soon.

Now, he's caught between cracked-door freedom and the firm grip of his Assistant Fire Chief. Kneading at the annoyance budding between his brows, Sidney turns on his heel to face his childhood best friend.

"C'mon, really? This is a circus, Nate. I shouldn't—Is this really something I should be doing? Y'know, it's not exactly... becoming of a civil servant."

"I'm doing it," Nate shrugs. "You don't see me pitching a fit."

The Chief glares. "Yeah, because you already know who you're going home with."

"Not true; tonight's could be the night Emmy decides to act on her grade school crush," the blonde jokes, his chin tipped across the gymnasium. "And who'd blame her? Flower's lookin' better than usual tonight."

"Nate."

The younger of the two only laughs in response to the dramatic groan of his name.

"No, I get it. You're acting pissy because your flower's stuck at home with a stomach bug, and, subsequently, you've been condemned to the terrible fate of having Cole Harbour's hottest fight tooth and nail for a date with you—oh, the horror! Truly, I feel for you, Saint Crosby."

"Bandwagon much?" he grumbles.

As Nate's grin widens, Sid's frown deepens.

Blue eyes twinkling with satisfaction, Nate teases, "You didn't deny it this time."

"D-Deny, what?"

Nate rolls his eyes; Sid's refusal to acknowledge anything, let alone something so obvious to anyone with eyes, was starting to get old, and fast.

"Yeah, sure, okay. Play dumb if it makes you feel better. But I'd figure my shit out sooner rather than later if I were you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sidney blinks.

"Oh, nothing... Just that you aren't the only civil servant sniffing around Blossom & Bloom these days."

With a parting wink, Nate vanishes into the crowd, leaving Sidney to stew in a fresh pot of bubbling unease.

—

and the plot thickens... hehehe 😈

as always, i would really appreciate if you reblogged my work, left a comment or dropped by my inbox w some feedback :) fandom runs on engagement, and so do writers!! thx a mil in advance!

#as each part gets posted im falling more and more in love with this AU #cheers to u gracie 🫶🏼

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got-pucks · 1 month

Text

sid to a furry friend's rescue!

florist!reader gets flustered during sid's calendar shoot

oh, nothing... just them playing house doing a mentorship day and stirring up the rumor mill... another tuesday!

gif from @ehghtyseven

Sidney remains cautious around the local amateur matchmaker, adopting a level of vigilance, one not unlike that of the state he experienced while on duty, whenever she and her cohort openly collude on his behalf. Unfortunately for him—and anyone else audacious enough to be single in their vicinity, their movements are as unpredictable as they are assured to occur.

He could be milling around the market down the block from the station, or waiting for his order at the hole-in-the-wall café beside your shop—even his mailbox was fair game. Blissfully alone one minute, and the next? He's center stage as Halifax's Most Eligible Bachelor, unwittingly sifting through a rolodex of eager contestants, many of whom present in name only.

Their community wasn't remarkable small, but it was quiet. So, Sid could understand the appeal. The residents, many of whom were nearing retirement or already had been for several years, had little else to fuss over. It wasn't uncommon for a single person to become a central topic of conversation at the bingo table or the church pew. Everyone got their turn.

But, of the community's ever-dwindling pool, Sidney Crosby is most definitely the favorite, with you not far behind.

When you arrived, Sid breathed a sigh of relief. Fresh meat meant that, at least a little while, the heat would be off his back. He could go about his business without a peanut gallery or having to stand trial over the state of his (non-existent) romantic life.

It felt somewhat callous to hope for someone else's life to be probed and scrutinized the way his has been, but his reprieve was long overdue. And it wasn't as though he intended for you to fend for yourself. He knew firsthand how relentless Madame Matchmaker—as she liked to be called—could be, and therefore, he could be a vital resource and a nice shoulder to lean on.

You were receptive to his aid and grateful for his kindness, and while Sidney anticipated this alliance of sorts would be largely one-way, he was pleasantly surprised to realize a positive, unintended consequence—a deterrence to meddling. With you by his side, Sidney was approached significantly less.

You both were.

And you knew why. It wasn't hard to connect the dots; appearing together effectively marked you as "off-limits," and, therefore, not worth their time or help.

However, it soon became clear the rouse worked a little too well. And, unwilling to fabricate a half-truth or outright lie, the horde of Cupids found reason to descend with renewed fervor. This time, with a fresh initiative: to bring their fantastical assumptions to fruition.

Today's doings were further fodder, and the pile of pooped toddlers curled between you being the chief culprits.

For nearly eight hours, you looked and behaved like a stereotypical nuclear family out for field trip. The day began with a breakfast spread seated at your breakfast nook and a leisurely stroll through the neighborhood. Then, a trip to your shop for a light lesson in floriculture and an introduction to bouquet arrangement, before the four of you made your way to the station for an edu-chat on fire prevention and safety. And, of course, a gear try-on and (assisted) turns with the fire hose. (Sidney wishes he would've snuck a photo of you donning his helmet.)

As the sun slipped closer to the horizon, you crumpled onto a bench framing the park in the center of town.

Managing two children together for Mentor Day seemed less daunting than going it alone, and it had been—but at what cost?

The hushed giggles just within earshot are measure enough.

"We're never going to hear the end of this, are we?"

Sidney hides his splitting grin behind his hand, all too aware of the typical spectators not two yards from where you're sat. It was best to find amusement in their meddling whenever possible.

"Definitely not," he concurs.

You lapse into comfortable silence, as you usually do around this hour on one of your back porches. The fading sun paints the town square in a buttery golden light soon after. Neither of you can resist stealing glances, open and lingering, too eager to watch the color dance across the other's face to worry about public perception and speculation.

Tired eyes tracking over your face, Sidney hums, "Today was a good day."

He watches you nod in agreement, a dreamy little smile pulling at your mouth. Behind the children's heads, your warm fingers tangle in his. His heart thuds when your hand gently squeezes his three times.

"Yeah, it was."

—

someone let me give him kids! now!

as always, i would really appreciate if you reblogged my work, left a comment or dropped by my inbox w some feedback :) fandom runs on engagement, and so do writers!! thx a mil in advance!

#if you look closely you can see me in a ball sobbing #gracie i love ur mind

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got-pucks · 1 month

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thank you for the love on the first lil nibble :,) makes me so happy to see y'all loving them + this new verse as much as i do!! i hope you enjoy this charity calendar shoot scene...

gif from @hunterrrs

Sid and yourself are in silent agreement—Emerson did this on purpose.

But any nerves he might've had after unexpectedly running into you at the station melted watching you become a flustered mess when his turnout jacket parted to reveal bare skin and toned muscle.

Pride bloomed recklessly in his chest realizing you couldn't keep eye contact for more than a few seconds. And, that you avoided his torso entirely. He grinned harder than he had in years watching you invent tasks to busy your hands with—to distract your wandering mind.

"Remind me again; what exactly do floral arrangements have to do with fighting fires?" Sidney hears you hiss at your best friend twenty minutes into the session.

He stifles a laugh while as he holds the pose he was given.

Emerson, the town's best (and only) professional photographer, only chuckles. The sound of smug satisfaction slips between shudder clicks.

"Not a damn thing..."

You pin her with an unamused grimace, your arms folded tautly over your grass-stained overalls. The adorably pinched expression reminds him a lot of the furry friend he plucked out of that tree not too long ago.

She sighs, rolling her eyes. "I thought it'd be a nice way to jazz up the background a bit. Maybe give some variety to the calendar, y'know? There's only so much I can do with a red brick wall."

You scoff in disbelief, but keep any further gripes to yourself.

Lowering the camera, she drops her voice to a half-assed conspiratorial whisper, "—and I wanted to give you an opportunity to finally see him shirtless. You're welcome, by the way."

"Because I needed your help the first time," you bite back thoughtlessly.

You petulantly kick at nothing before freezing, eyes blown wide. Stunned into silence by your unplanned candor, you can barely sputter out fragments... which only serve to strengthen the initial innuendo.

Sidney's thunderous laughter nearly drowns out the unfortunate sound of Emerson's R6 crashing to the floor.

—

ahhhh this is verse so !! and sugary!! makes my teeth ache (in the best way)

as always, i would really appreciate if you reblogged my work, left a comment or dropped by my inbox w some feedback :) fandom runs on engagement, and so do writers!! thx a mil in advance!

#i <3 a good meddling plot 🤭#hehe #firefighter!sid will be all I think about for a while

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got-pucks · 1 month

Text

just a lil firefighter!sid fluff for y'all :)

gif from @ehghtysevenarchive + per this ask and others

Surely, the chief of Canada's oldest fire department has more important things to do on a crisp morning, the last one preceding a fresh week, than this. He most definitely does. And, yes, Chief Crosby is known for his pragmatic approach to, well, everything.

But neither carries weight here—not when she calls.

Leaky faucet, dead car battery, unreachable spider... It doesn't matter. One ring, and he's rushing home. He can't pin-point when the pattern began, likely sometime shortly between the day you moved into town and his first off-day, but it's a routine he's come to enjoy despite the extra strain on both his schedule and his body; Sidney never thought sharing a property line could be so tedious or time-consuming.

He knows he shouldn't enjoy the distraction as much as he does. You aren't together, Sidney doesn't ever allow his imagination wander that far, but he can't help it. He can't help but help. He rarely turns down anyone in need, which has done wonders for his reputation within the community, but with you... With you, it's different, and embarrassingly so.

He doesn't have the words to explain it. Not that he needs to, it's written plainly across his face.

There's a reason you're regular fixtures in the town's gossip column.

When he arrives on scene—not ten minutes after his F-Series crawled down the gravel drive—Sidney shakes his head and laughs. Collecting his cell and his radio, he slips out of the truck, watching as you fret like a mother hen.

Still in your slippers, you're stood at the base of a decently-sized red spruce wedged between his yard and yours, your crumpled face angled up into the yellow-green needles. You're the very picture of worry, wringing your trembling hands and muttering to yourself.

A stray kitten caught in a tree, that's what's got you in a such a state.

"Well, this is a new one," he bellows in lieu of a greeting, slamming the door shut as his boots hit the ground.

Briefly, your glassy eyes dart in his direction. You're midway through your customary apology when he arrives at your side and quiets you, just as he always does.

"They're more than capable of holding down the fort for however long it takes to rescue our new friend, okay?"

"I know, but what if—"

"But nothing," Sidney huffs, and he dares to take you by the shoulders. And, externally, he ignores the way you shiver under his palms. "If I didn't think it was safe for me to step out for a couple of minutes, I wouldn't. You believe me, right?"

You nod, bottom lip pinched between your teeth.

"Good. Now, how 'bout you keep an ear on this," Sidney sets the clunky satellite radio in your hand, "—and I'll grab the ladder from the shed?"

He doesn't really need your help monitoring the channel, but he knows you'll feel better if you feel like you're doing something. Like him, you find comfort in your utility.

In less than a minute, Sidney re-emerges, rounding the corner with a ladder in hand. You're in the same spot, now fidgeting with the radio, anxiously dumping it from one palm to the other and back again. He follows your gaze to line up the simple equipment necessary for the rescue operation.

Sidney's heart swells as you quietly step forward to spot him.

Lucky for everyone, the ball of orange fur is on the branch nearest to the ground. Sidney needs only to step up onto the first wrung to safetly coax the frightened creature into his waiting hands, he's back on the ground not long after.

He gives the kitten a gentle parting scratch under the chin, then transfers the purring fluff to you. The soft bundle takes to you immediately, nuzzling into your chest like that's where it wanted to be all along.

"I think he likes you," Sidney observes with a cheek-numbing grin.

Your lips are tipped up at the end and there's fan of happiness rooting itself around your eyes. Your mouth opens to reply, but before the words come—

"Well, would you look at this?"

Across the quiet street and a few houses to the left sits an audience of two. Both of which are now cooing as loudly as two ladies in their sixties can manage. Coffee cups in one hand and their cellphones propped up in the other, they fawn over the two of you as if it's live theater.

Sidney curses their sons, who he'd completed the explorer program with as teens, for enabling this technological torture.

"Smile, you two! Oh, Denise is just going to eat this up," one of them, a spitfire in a 4'11 frame by the name of Mrs. Bouchard, exclaims to her co-conspirator, Ms. Johnston.

Then, to no one's surprise and Sid's chagrin, they giddily type out their respective messages to the local paper's equally-nosy editor-in-chief.

"Looks like we're front-page news again," you hum bashfully.

The tabby mewls in your arms. You curl into the little bundle of fur, lips landing between its delicate ears.

Sid studies you in his periphery as he slips in and out of heady contemplation, ultimately deciding he doesn't mind as much as he once did. "That we are..."

—

eek! wait, why do i luv them already 🥹

as always, i would really appreciate if you reblogged my work, left a comment or dropped by my inbox w some feedback :) fandom runs on engagement, and so do writers!! thx a mil in advance!

#i need firefighter!sid to come rescue my *GUNSHOT*#the sweetest of treats 🤭#lowkey needed this after a morning full of hanxiety 😮‍💨

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got-pucks · 2 months

Note

Heavily breathing at your Jamie blurb… forgive me father for I have sinned

one // two // three

not me squirming every time i write abt this pair... 🤭

cw — brat!reader x brat-tamer!dom!jamie, jamie teasing his girl for being easy + name-calling

what's presently plaguing my mind is the thought of jamie coming up behind you and silently cupping your throat, gently pulling you back until your head's resting against his abdomen, his thumb rubbing the tender spot where your neck meets your jaw <3

at first, it isn't inherently sexual. an absent-minded thing. he's just being affectionate, and he likely doesn't even realize the gravity of his behavior until he feels a moan building in your throat. he can't see your face, but he can feel the vibrations against his palm and that's all he needs to surmise that you're about ten seconds from melting completely.

he, of course, teases you about it — "really, that's it — that's all it takes to get you going? just my hand around your throat? it's that easy?"

you try to swallow, to push down the traitorous sounds climbing up your throat — you're too fucking stubborn to admit he's right, or give him any more satisfaction than you already have in the last minute or so. you'll stroke anything but his ego.

"playing hard to get?"

you stay staring straight ahead, not even acknowledging him verbally, knowing it'll piss him off.

"alright, fine — whatever. be a brat for all i care, i just hope you remember this later when you're humping my leg like a bitch in heat, begging for attention i won't give you."

indulge me further

#literally so h word I’m 😔😄

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got-pucks · 2 months

Note

jamie drysdale pls spit into my mouth and degrade me

brainrot incoming...

cw — pouty!princess!reader x mean-ish!jamie, spit (obvi), alcohol, shenanigans that probably shouldn't be done w an audience (sry trev + mase), man-handling <3

❥ thinking abt jamie's gf having a pouty princess attitude moment, at some bar or a club or house party, just bored outta her cute little mind listening to the boys talk about... whatever boys talk about? getting all huffy and puffy frustrated, whining and tugging at his sleeve because he's clearly not paying enough attention to the only person who matters — you!!! duh

❥ bats you and your wandering hands away like a gnat, doesn't even look your way as he does it, continues his conversation as if he didn't just shoo his girlfriend away like an annoying little bug

❥ but you're persistent <3 and spoiled <3 (wonder who's to blame for that)

❥ "fuck— jesus christ, would you—would you just quit it?" or, alternatively, a classic "knock it off"

❥ w you still undeterred, eventually he resorts to an ass pat reprimand (tbh it's more of a smack, but jamie'll argue it was a light "love-tap" and you're "just dramatic/sensitive") + "behave, yeah?" with a slight brow raise

❥ you don't (bc where's the fun in that? it's too entertaining to rile your sweet boy up!! and his buttons are so easy to push!! and trevor eggs you on!!)

❥ says "c'mere" gesturing with a crooked finger like it's optional 😵‍💫 grabs your jaw to move you closer, practically in his lap (ignoring all the strange looks your table's getting) then he pinches your cheeks to force your mouth open...

❥ you squirm and feebly push at his chest bc how humiliating (and hot??) but he just laughs at your pathetic struggle and tightens his grip

❥ "what? you wanted my attention so fucking badly, and now you have it." 🤭🤭🤭

❥ violently shaking your head (does it even move? sources say no) when you realize what he's about to do... in public... directly in front of his friends...

❥ "you're not really in a position to be picky, are you, princess?"

❥ the man spits into your mouth. fully baby-birds you with saliva and yucky cheap beer.

(serious question boys, why are we not ballin and getting something actually drinkable... you can afford it why are we sufferinggggg) anyway back to the filth

❥ you're holding the warm concoction on your tongue, all pleading eyes and face twisted in disgust — surely, he's not going to... right? he'll be nice <;3 (fat chance, sweetheart)

❥ "swallow it, or you get nothing when we get home" 🥵

❥ pats your cheek after you finally obey 😳 bark bark bark

❥ obvi this just backfires in his face; shouldn't he know by now that his filthy mouth and tugging you around like a ragdoll just makes you needier???

❥ def mocks your pouting (t and m are just watching them stare at each other, bottom lips jutted out and lashes fluttering lol) as he's literally giving in and taking you to poundtown home

so uh yeah... what do we think

#omg!#where have my clothes gone?

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got-pucks · 2 months

Note

now I ALSO need jamie to spit in my mouth in front of people!

the og post

consider this lil blurb my formal press release officially broadcasting my spit kink 😋

cw — spitting/spit kink (obvi), dom!jamie and his spoiled bratty princess subjecting innocent bystanders to their antics, casual dominance + man-handling, public groping? lol, jamie calling her a slut (affectionate), implied 🍃 + jamie being a condescending meanie and embarrassing her (she likes it dw)

okay so this def becomes your "thing," to the point where your friends are collectively just like "again?" whenever it happens because its such a common occurrence. eventually they're desensitized to it and never really notice unless someone new/not as close to you catches it in their periphery or from across the room, and is like ?? um what ?? and then they remember how objectively strange it is to behave like that in public lol so many people have been instructed to ignore you two because, like i said, its just a thing! got it? good.

· 。ﾟ☆: *.☾ .* :☆ﾟ.· 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :

anyway! currently thinking about jamie being such an ass and dodging all your kisses because you were "difficult" after not getting your way (for once) as a punishment, knowing it'll drive the point home because of how addicted you are 😵‍💫 at the start of the night, he was super serious about it but as time went on (and you got progressively more needy and pouty) jamie keeps up the act purely because it amuses the hell out of him, hashtag free n easy entertainment! (as if you won't make him regret it later)

without a doubt, he's got his hand cupping the back of your neck, fingertips digging into you just enough to keep you from trying anything too crazy... and just enough to make you ache between your thighs. you're stood in front of him while he's perched on a barstool, making conversation with people across the island. maybe he's got one thigh slotted between yours, maybe he doesn't. either way, his other hand's entire job is to keep you from grinding against anything—only good girls get sweet, sweet relief!

but that doesn't mean you aren't going to try when he's distracted...

"just makin' things worse for yourself, princess. wiggling like that won't get you anywhere far. or good."

of course, he waited until there's a lull in the conversation to reprimand you. and, of course, he said it slightly too loud, catching the attention of the group huddled nearby.

is your face heating up because you're embarrassed, or embarrassingly turned on? (or a surprise third option!)

all hot and bothered, you're grumbling even more now, kicking invisible rocks with the toe of your shoe, and hoping he'll take pity on you if you act dejected enough. "wouldn't be wiggling if you'd stop icing me out," you mumble, mostly under your breath.

"and whose fault is that?"

he sounds so unimpressed and bored with the whole ordeal he might as well be talking about the weather. jamie's eyes never linger for more than a few seconds, his face betraying none of the emotion throbbing against your upper thigh.

what you're about to ask makes you feel incredibly shy, and it sends your face into the warmth of his neck, muffling your bashful request, "c-can i... i can at least kiss your cheek, right? s'not as good as your lips, so it's still a punishment..."

jamie laughs. he fucking laughs at your sad attempt at bargaining as he pulls your face from the crook of his neck—from the privacy of your hiding spot. a small audience and their curious eyes drill into you from all angles. they, and the familiar haze clouding his otherwise warm eyes, knots your somersaulting stomach.

"open."

when you don't and, instead, feign confusion, he rolls his eyes. "c'mon, you know exactly what i want. where's my good girl, hm?"

like magic, your lips part, jaw slackening.

rarely, if ever, does jamie have to pry your mouth open. no matter your mood, you'll open good and wide if he sprinkles in the right words. still, he holds your chin right where he wants it.

the glob is thick and hot, with a faint sweet, hashy accent and an earthly parting bite. you flinched on impact, unprepared for the sheer force of it, but it's the ever-developing flavor that twists your pretty features into an expression that makes him chuckle.

nevertheless, tell-tale warmth seeps through the sad excuse for underwear jamie picked out hours prior. you shiver as the evidence of your sick enjoyment slips down your inner thighs.

jamie forces you to hold his spit squarely on your tongue, enjoying the way your throat bobs and your eyes water trying to meet his demands. to make him happy. to earn mercy. once satisfied, he gives a subtle nod, finally giving you permission to swallow.

"there she is," he hums, running his thumb across your spit-stained bottom lip, the other hand kneading the fistful of your backside.

pride thumps in your chest. you curl into him like a happy kitten.

"too bad you were naughty earlier—could've been kissin' me all night. instead, you're sucking down my spit like a desperate little slut."

for an introvert, he's fucking shameless??

the whimper you let out makes several bystanders blush.

"don't give me any more trouble, and i'll consider lessening your sentence, yeah?"

you're nodding before he even finishes talking, tucking yourself into his side.

um so yeah 🥰 could go on and on and on... (esp if requested tehe)

more jamie :)

#this is all I want #is that too much to ask

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got-pucks · 2 months

Note

you know what… maybe I really am just a slut

BARKKKK JAMIE SPITTING IN UR MOUTH YUMMM

one // two

spit girlies unite! 🫶🏻

cw — spit (last time tagging this bc... redundancy), raw dogging it (implied), creampie + cum play (snowballing, specifically), oral (reader receiving), voyeurism, some service!dom!jamie thots, brat!reader, slight oral fixation situation + of course, more man-handling <33

so... for anyone who read drink me like a warm glass of milk, this one's for you <3

*ೃ༄

in my head, jamie is more fingers than mouth/tongue (see: the gift of giving), namely because he wants a good view... the best view. the man needs to watch the chaos his actions incite... half the fun/enjoyment of intimacy for him is seeing how easily you slip under his command and surrender to the pleasure he's giving you... sometimes, watching you crumble at his hand is enough for him to be fully satiated. idk something about him screams service!dom to me. the sort of bedroom disciplinarian whose philosophy is "everything i do is for your own good, even if you don't like it" (aka actually facing consequences for being an absolute menace to society <3 — no, this is definitely not self-indulgent, why would you ask that?)

thinking about the aftermath of jamie caving (he's a simpy simp at heart, okay guys?) and dicking you down after the first blurb i posted talking about this... you're barely a human being at this point, loosely held together by his heavy gaze and wandering hands. before you know it, jamie's knelt between your limp thighs, eyes locked on your ruined drooling cunt. he's enthralled, watching as he drips out of your swollen, spent hole. he catches most of the mess with his greedy fingers, then shoves it back in — "have'ta put it back where it belongs, don't i, princess? wouldn't want to waste any, would we?" 😵‍💫 all the while you're writhing and feebly pushing at the hand keeping you splayed open at jamie's mercy, clearly too physically sensitive for any more tonight. but jamie knows you can take more — that you want more. if you can walk tomorrow, he did something wrong... and he'll surely get an earful from you about it, bitching and moaning about leaving you "high and dry," as if he didn't fuck you six ways to sunday the night before.

letting the intrusive thots win jamie dips down and buries his face in your sticky folds, lapping at you like a starved man on a time limit. the pillow under your head is quickly eclipsing the sheets wrinkled below your ass for most soaked, a flood of tears slipping down your temples as he plays with your overstimulated cunt. but even in your pleasure-drunk drowsiness, you notice something new... something different... it almost feels like he's...

your suspicions are confirmed when he climbs your lax body closed-lipped, mouth pressed in a firm, thin line. jamie pinches your cheeks to release your clenched jaw; he normally wouldn't need to, but you're too gone to do much more than blink up at him, and even that you're struggling to do. but jamie doesn't mind, he likes when you're helpless and have to rely on him for everything <3 your tongue falls out on instinct you're so well trained tehe and he can't help but smirk. with his thumb pressing down on your bottom teeth, he leans in close enough for your lips to brush ever so slightly, then opens his own mouth to allow the treat to slip into your waiting one. your eyes roll back and you arch into him, humming with content.

"tastes good, huh?" he breathes into your mouth. "open wider, sweetheart. show me how pretty you look eating my cum."

jamie wants you to show it off, the milky evidence of your charged tryst. despite the state you're in, you don't need to be told twice. proudly, you push your tongue out. jamie plays with the puddle for a bit, massaging your combined cum into the soft muscle.

once he's had his fun, he nods at you to swallow. after you do, you present your clean tongue to him, smiling when he does. he pets your cheek.

"t-thank you, jamie."

it's more hiccup than speech, but he doesn't give a shit. he already got exactly what he wanted.

"look at those manners, princess — did a good job with you, didn't i? didn't even have to remind you this time."

so... anyone wanna give me an excuse to keep thinking abt this?

#i’m [REDACTED]#😩😔

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got-pucks · 3 months

Note

Oh it’s purring real loud

I need Jamie so bad it’s not even funny 😞

Like to just sit on his thighs and him call me his baby 😪

pookie fr 😩 i know you didn't ask for this but... i just couldn't help myself (a growing trend with jd it seems)

cw — alcohol consumption/tipsy!reader x tipsy!jamie, accidental exhibitionism (jamie getting handsy at a bonfire bc he just can't resist lol), suggestive lang + innuendo, + general fluffy filth but nothing super explicit really, pretty tame for me tbh

jamie drysdale has never been so pleased to have lost a fight in his entire life.

he didn't think it'd get cold enough to warrant lugging around an extra blanket (meaning him, not you—he's a gentleman). you thought otherwise, and pestered him until there was one neatly folded in the backseat.

objectively speaking, jamie was right; it wasn't even chilly. he was actually a little warm, if he was being honest, but that had a lot more to do with his wandering, beer-soaked mind than the weather or a superfluous layer.

—and he had a tent in his pants to prove it.

it's his own fault. he pulled you into his lap when there were more than enough lawn chairs scattered around the blazing fire, knowing full-well you fidget when you're tipsy. jamie knows you can't sit still to save your life, yet he sat you across his thighs anyway. and now he—and his raging hard-on—are paying the price.

he isn't embarrassed he's turned on, that's not the problem. that's never the problem. you've been dating for years, and anyone who's shocked by the effect you have on him has bigger problems than jamie's attraction to his own girlfriend.

it's the fact that he's about ten seconds away from pulling your suit to the side and rutting into you in the middle of a public beach with his friends not even a foot away.

someone across the half-moon crowd says something that makes you laugh—makes you wiggle. jamie's hands tighten on your hips to keep you still, but, by this point in the night, his body is too lax to be of much help. if anything, the impassioned touch eggs you on, and it isn't long before his hips are moving to match your mostly-involuntary movements.

jamie hisses through gritted teeth, jaw clenched so tight it aches. "baby, quit it—please."

fluttering half-lidded eyes meet his, clock his internal struggle, and immediately twinkle with mischief. under the guise of shifting your attention, you rub the outside of your thigh against the bulge threatening to tear his trunks.

"quit what?" you ask with a demure smile, your hands looping themselves around his neck. warm fingertips play with the feathered locks tickling his sunburnt neck, making him shiver.

"you know what," he glares. "i don't know when we'll get back home, and you're driving me insane."

"touch me here."

blinking in disbelief, he balks. "w-what?"

"touch. me. here."

each word is punctuated with a chaste peck to his ever-reddening cheek. the succinct affection bounces you in his lap, and jamie can't help but slide his hands further beneath the sandy blanket. at first, to halt the infuriating friction but, like usual, once his hands wander he just can't stop. consequences—and shyness—be damned.

"s'not a good idea." jamie nips your jaw, dotting a line of warm kisses along your neck, stopping once his nose brushes your ear. "my baby's loud as shit, and i'd rather not have an audience."

you swat his chest in offense, but giggle nonetheless. "am not!"

"are too." he smiles up at you.

"i can be quiet," you huff, determination furrowing your brow.

jamie reaches up to smooth the crease with his thumb. you catch his arm and press a sweet peck to the inside of his wrist. he shudders.

you hum into his skin, "i think you're projecting."

"that right?" your boyfriend feigns ignorance, amused.

"let me prove it," you whisper before leaning in to kiss the tip of his nose. with your forehead flush to his, you try again. "please, jamie. i can't wait anymore—and i certainly can't wait until t strikes out with whoever he's obsessed with this week."

jamie snorts.

you make a solid point; it could be another ten minutes or upwards of two hours. his guess was as good as any—trevor himself included. jamie's really starting to hate that him finally fucking his own girlfriend hinges on his best friend's ability—or inability—to seal the deal.

"you make even a peep, and i stop. got it?"

what's the worst that could happen if he indulges you a bit? no one's even paying attention to either of you, anyway.

you nod, bottom lip pinched between your teeth. jamie tugs it free, fingertip dancing over the fresh indentations. your tongue slips out to tease his sun-soaked skin, and it isn't long before the digit is flush to your hot tongue.

jamie's eyes are almost black with lust as they watch your lips welcome and release his finger over and over again. your eyelids fall as he slips into a trance, mesmerized by your mouth.

"words, baby. gimme words," he prods, the words barely audible.

you surrender his hand with a faint pop, blinking down at him like you're already teetering on the precipice. "no sounds or you stop—i got it," you parrot. "now are you going to touch me?"

"needy, needy, baby," jamie teases after stealing a kiss. "i've spoiled you rotten, haven't i? can't even go a couple hours without begging me to touch you... s'alright, i can barely keep my hands of you. 'specially when i've got you sittin' all pretty in my lap like this."

"—jamie, please, just... just touch me already—need t'feel you."

chuckling to himself, jamie mercifully pushes the sodden material out of the way. he nearly moans at what he finds.

how much of it is from the evening dip you took with a couple of the other girlfriends, it's hard to tell, but he'd put good money on it being little to none. no, the damp patch growing in his lap is all you. sweet and warm, and perfectly you.

you gasp when he collects some of the escaped arousal with a few of his fingers. jamie raises a brow in your direction and you cover your mouth apologetically. he bites the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. you're trying so hard to keep quiet, it's adorable.

"—haven't even done anything and you're already breaking your promise," he chides. "how am i supposed to give you what you want when you're already misbehaving?"

"the other one," you breathe. confused, jamie hesitates. "give me your other hand."

you fish his free hand out from between your bodies and bring it up to your mouth. his eyes bulge out of their sockets once your intentions become obvious; you mean to silence yourself by sucking on his middle and marriage as he fucks you with the other hand. your back is mostly to the group, but he's still paranoid as all hell.

yet, jamie can't bring himself to deny you—or himself.

"you're gonna be the death of me," he groans as your head dips.

too turned on to care, jamie relents and slips a gentle finger into you. your eyes pinch shut, teeth catching on his other hand, but no sound leaves you. as a reward for your good behavior, he sinks in even further, until he's knuckle-deep at both ends.

his movements are much slower than normal, but, somehow, it doesn't matter. jamie's thumb seeks out your clit, sensitive and swollen despite its neglect, and he traces lazy circles between deep, measured thrusts. all the while, he mouths at your neck with little concern for what evidence he might leave behind. jamie's sole focus is making you feel as good as he does right now with his half-naked, hot-as-hell girlfriend writhing in his lap, her pretty pussy clenching around his lucky fingers.

"—j-jamie," you warble around his drenched hand, hips bucking into the other with what little leverage you have positioned like this. "—close, s'close."

oh, he knows. he can tell. jamie knows your body better than you do; he's a diligent student.

"are you, baby?" jamie can't resist a bit of taunting. you're too far gone to push back. "poor thing, what do you need from me? tell me what you need to get there."

you're slow to answer, overwhelmed by the sensations attacking your mind from all angles. somewhere along the line, a second finger was added... and then a third. the burning stretch aches so good your vision blurs.

jamie, jamie, jamie—the beginning, middle, and end of your thoughts—jamie, through and though. he's everywhere, but it's still not enough.

"my n-neck," you eventually gasp. "please—kiss my neck again."

your boyfriend is more than happy to oblige. lips latched to the tender spot just below your ear, jamie lets his hand take control of the pace; he's no longer content to drag this out. it's been a long day, and all he wants is to watch his pretty girlfriend fall to pieces in his lap.

your peak is ushered in by a series of pitiful little whines and whimpers, mostly muffled by his spit-stained hand, but jamie doesn't have the heart—or the sanity—to chastise you for it. if he had it his way, his mind would play those beautiful, broken sounds on a loop.

but the reverie is too good to last. it always is.

"get a room, you two!"

a chorus of laughter and vulgar remarks succeed trevor's call-out. and, hot under the collar, jamie's cheeks burn pink as he buries his face in the safety of your neck.

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okay but literally what the fuck was that about 😳

#fic recs!

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got-pucks · 6 months

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"ukraine invasion" vs "israel-hamas war" hm. something something wording and western media bias and propaganda

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got-pucks · 6 months

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