summary: angst/hurt comfort. logan finds you crying in the bathroom during a party. short fic. requested here and here!
Logan isn’t there when it happens, but he certainly hears the commotion around it through the grapevine. The whispers dancing around the party, spreading the news of a girl slapping a Sig Tau frat’s face after he tries (or rather, forces) a move on her, your name mixed within them.
He shares a brisky look with Tucker, who quickly mumbles something among the lines of “I’ll take care of it. Go.” before pushing him back inside the house. Logan runs through the crowd of people, eyes scanning every face, then up the stairs storming a bunch of rooms occupied by couples who definitely should’ve locked the door. He only finds you when he starts banging on the locked doors of the upstairs bathroom.
“Go away!” You yell from the other side.
“It’s just me.” He answers, loud enough for you to hear but never to scare you, “Would you open the door, please?”
There’s a beat of silence, then the sound of the lock turning.
Logan opens the door to find you sitting on the bathroom floor, hiding your face behind your hands. “I’m so embarrassed.” You say, voice muffled by your own palms, “I didn’t know he’d– I didn’t mean to–”
“Hey, no– You’re good. You did nothing wrong, ‘kay?” He cuts you off, crouching down to sit by your side on the floor, hand going for your shoulder in a comforting move, asking in a lower voice, “Wanna tell me what happened?”
You lift your head up, and Logan sees your tear-streaked face and wobbly underlip, feeling almost light-headed with the sudden flush of emotions. He feels ready to go out there and give a proper finish to the damage you’ve started on the guy’s face, yet, he knows that there’s no way in hell he’d ever leave you alone in those cold bathroom floor tiles — especially when he feels your hand curving around his upper arm, seeking his assurance.
“I was just grabbing a drink.” You say, voice cracking in such a way that makes his ribs hurt. “In the kitchen. Then this guy– I don’t know, I turn around and suddenly he’s too close, and– And he’s trying to push me against the wall, so I–”
You start growing antsy and take a moment to breathe, eyes closing. You drop your head into his shoulder, “I wasn’t thinking. I just had to get him away from me.”
“You did good.” Logan repeats himself, his arm tentatively going around your shoulders, careful not to startle you. You curl up against him, and he goes on saying, his low voice a litany of assurances, “You got him away, yeah? That’s what matters. You did great, honey.”
You breath in, staying still where your head lands on his shoulder, and Logan won’t dare to move either until you do. A knock on the door is the sole reason for your disturbance.
“Occupied.” Logan says, but the voice that comes out the other side is from Garrett.
“Everything okay there?”
“Fine.” You say, “Just– Yeah. We’re good.”
“Okay. Uh, the girls are waiting in the car. We’re, uh, ready to leave if you are.” His voice says.
Logan turns to face you, your eyes blinking slowly like you’ve just been pulled out of sleep. “You ready to go?” He murmurs.
You nod, “Yes, please.”
He lifts himself off the floor, offering you a hand.
When he opens the door, Garrett isn’t the only one on the other side. Dean and Tucker stand there, one on each side of him, all three standing like guards waiting for orders. Logan’s eyes fall down to their hands, and if you notice the redness around each their knuckles, you don’t mention it. None of them really say a word other than a quick “c’mon” and know that you understand it exactly as they mean to — as in “We got you too.”
It’s a quiet drive in the backseat of Garrett’s car.
There’s a silent agreement, reinforced by you saying that you don’t wanna go to your dorm, that everyone’s staying the night at the boy’s house, and Logan doesn’t care if he has to sleep on the couch, or rather force Garrett out of his own room so you can share the bed with Hannah, but he knows is that you’re not staying alone tonight.
You keep your head on Logan’s shoulder, hands intertwined with his. He closes his eyes, focusing solely on the softness of your fingers as he calms himself down. There’s a lot of emotions to unpack and possibly hard conversations to get through in the following days. Right now, all he cares about is keeping you safe by his side, fast asleep on the road home.
notes: quick psa, if you or anyone you know has ever been affected by sexual harrasment, please know that it's not your fault and finding support is always the best choice. thank you for reading <3
summary: the first time you stay with him until the morning. short fic, smut-implied but mostly fluff. inspired by one of @rebelfell's headcanons, thank you! <3
Logan shifts in his sleep once he feels you trying to slip out the bed.
“Don’t.” He says, voice hoarse from waking up in the middle of the night and arm stretching out to find you. “Don’t move.”
You have been on this same bed before, multiple times. First after one of his team’s winning games, two beers in, both giggling on the stools at Malone’s. Then again the next night, then the next week, always a fun fling before kissing goodbye and each going their own way. You and Logan have never had a talk about how things were moving, but oh, they were moving.
You turn around to face him, his pretty eyes still closed, chest going up and down in a steady rhythm. He looks so… peaceful.
“I think I should go,” you whisper. Logan’s eyes open slightly, eyebrows furrowing before he starts shaking his head, and you giggle, “Before it gets too late.”
“Just stay the night,” he says, like it’s the obvious thing to do, “I’ll take you home in the morning.”
Thing is, John Logan might not reach the same level of whorish fame of his teammates, but you know the guy. Before this all started, you’ve heard through the grapevine of different girls (puckbunnies, if you will) who were once in your position: between his sheets after a good night — but never the morning.
Guys like John Logan don’t do mornings.
Your hands move to his head, fingers fixing his hair off his face. His eyes flutter closed from the tender touch, “Logan…”
“I know. I know, just–” he stops for a yawn, half his face squished on his pillow again while his hand pulls you gently, “Just stay, please?”
You stare at his sleepy face for a second, taking a deep breath before you answer, “Okay.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Logan’s mouth splits in a tired smile, “Cool. C’mere then.”
—
He wakes up before you, nose pressed on the corner between your neck and shoulder, the soft reminiscence of perfume you were wearing last night the very first thing he acknowledges. Then, the morning light, and that’s where it hits him.
You stayed the night.
Logan doesn’t want to wake you, but he can’t help himself. He presses his lips to your shoulder, voice muttering so low, “You’re here.”
“I am.” you mutter back, almost refusing to move and disturb the quietness. Actually, all you do is pull the bedsheets — his bedsheets — closer, bundling yourself under the comfiness of his blankets. Logan lets out a small chuckle, despite feeling the cold reaching his legs. He moves an inch closer, following you under the covers.
Logan moves his lips slowly from your shoulder up to your jaw, placing soft kisses. His arms move around your torso, bringing you closer to his chest. “You’re warm,” he says in a low voice, the low stubble on his face slightly tickling you, “And you’re so soft.”
His lips keep moving over to your behind your ear, then back to your neck, kissing and nibbling. Logan shifts, swiftly pining you to bed and astriding you. His arms are on each side of your body and your hands are moving, fingers brushing his forearms like you’re trying to memorize the shivers on his skin, nails scratching the back of his neck as he kisses you deeply.
It’s all so agonizingly slow — the way he moves, the sun peeking through the white curtains casting a glow over the room, his naked back looking golden under the haze. You close your eyes, and all you hear is a soft chuckle leaving Logan’s lips, trailing down your body again. He presses a kiss on your sternum, “So, so pretty.”
There’s no rush to it, and still, you can’t pinpoint when one movement changes to another, your limbs tangled with his, hips moving together and your quiet moans muffled by his lips. It’s different from all the frantic nights you’ve shared together until now.
Slower, quieter, lovelier.
Logan’s voice whispers soft words in your ear as your chest finds a rhythm again, “You’re good, honey. You’re perfect.”
You open your eyes and find he’s intently watching you, and you press a quick kiss on his lips, then a couple more over his nose and face. He relaxes his body, arms faltering beside you, whole weight now resting on top of you.
“I’m assuming you’re not taking me home now, are you?”
Logan lets out an amused chuckle, “No, you stay as long as you want.”
You don’t see yourself leaving his bed anytime soon.
notes: thank you for reading! first time writing for off campus <3 requests are open! likes/reblogs/thoughts are appreciated!
gator tillman x fem!reader
summary: getting snowed in with your current situationship was all you intended to do. when you learn that the snow won't be cleared for another twenty-fours hours, you suggest a movie night. gator picks up on your film commentary and uses this new knowledge to his advantage.
word count: 3.6k
cw: 18+, little plot just smut, afab reader, mask kink, slight stalking, slight dark behavior, degradation, heavy tension, p in v, knife play, manhandling, creampie, sensory deprivation, weapons, probably forgotten something & i'm sorry, you've been warned
“Darlin’, you can’t be serious,” Gator huffed as he tightened his arm around your waist, “The mask? That’s sexy?”
The two of you were curled up on your couch, snowed in together for the weekend. Did you intentionally invite your situationship over before the snowfall reached its peak? Maybe. Did you regret it? Absolutely not. It was the closest thing you and Gator had ever had to a date, since the back-and-forth fling started.
After making dinner together (or rather, Gator bothering you and stealing scraps from the meal until you finished cooking), you both settled in to watch a movie. At Gator’s request, you had to evade chick flicks, stupid cartoons, or anything so sweet it’d make him gag… he was a little dramatic, to say the least. So instead of settling on another pointless action flick or weird arthouse film, you had decided to watch ‘Scream’.
“It’s fuckin’ goofy,” He groaned as he took another hit of his vape, blowing the smoke up at the ceiling.
“The mask isn’t the sexy thing,” You rolled your eyes, playfully prodding at his side, “It’s the fact that you can’t see the person’s face, the voice box, the chase and surprise capture. Like a sexy game of cat-and-mouse.”
“I can’t tell if that makes it a mask kink or a prey kink,” Gator lowly chuckled before lightly nipping at your ear.
“Shut up,” you groaned, swatting his chest in return, “Forget I ever mentioned it.”
“No, no,” he slyly continued, his nose nudging against the juncture of your jawline, ghosting kisses towards your pulse point, “Tell me more about how you got the hots for a killer.”
“I invite you to my home and make you dinner, and this is how you repay me?” You lightly shoved at him, not intending the frustration in your words.
Gator hummed but settled down as the plot moved forward. His hand, however, drifted from your waist down to the swell of your ass. You quickly snagged his wrist, “Hands where I can see ‘em, Tillman.”
Just like that, the moment had passed. Or so you thought…
— — —
The bed sheet had been lazily strewn over your sleeping frame. Both you and Gator had crashed in the bedroom, not too long after the movie had ended. Any intention you’d had earlier died as soon as your head hit the pillow, exchanging messy kisses and settling for heavy petting until you passed out.
The sound of a car door slamming was what roused you from your initial slumber. When you reached a hand out to wake Gator, you discovered only emptiness. Blinking the sleep out of your eyes, your attention drifted to the bathroom door, but the lights were off, and it was empty. You moved to your feet, wondering if he had decided to run home to the Tillman Ranch. Yet when you looked out the window, his noir truck was still parked outside, surrounded by at least sixteen inches of snow.
When you heard boots thump on the front porch, you figured that Gator had simply gone outside to smoke. That was still a strange explanation when you considered he never had an issue vaping anywhere he pleased. Grabbing an oversized sweater from your drawer, you slipped it on, along with your pajama shorts. You peered your head out into the hallway, hoping to catch his shadow in the porch light.
Only, the house seemed darker, emptier than it typically did. The air was still, besides the sound of the wind whipping around the house. A more logical part of your brain told you simply to go back to bed, yet curiosity got the better of you.
You approached the front door, glancing between the blades of your blinders. The snow had no divots or tracks, though the snow was coming down quickly enough to cover a small print. Gator’s black truck was still parked parallel to your carport, indicating that he was still here at least. As you moved to step back, that’s when you noticed movement out of the corner of your eye.
You swiftly turned around, searching for what had caught your attention. There was nothing—just the same stillness.
“Gator?” you called out into the silence, “Gator, let’s go back to bed.”
There was no reply. Exhaustion hung heavy in your body, and your frustration couldn’t leash itself. You marched down the main hall, back to your bedroom, “Gator, I ain’t playing games. Come to bed before I lock the damn door.”
You stepped back through the threshold of your bedroom, shutting the door behind you. It didn’t lock because it was an empty threat. As you eagerly climbed back into bed, you made sure to check your phone for any notifications about the storm. Just more snow. And a text…
Unknown — So you don’t want to play?
When you clicked the notification, you quickly realized it was from an unsaved number. Your brow furrowed in confusion. If Gator wanted to do something, he would’ve just told you. This had to be just some wrong number or a prank message, nothing to worry about.
You placed your phone face down on the nightstand, burrowing your face into the bedsheet. When another chime came from your phone, you reached for it, expecting Gator to explain his weird disappearance. Instead, it was another text from the unsaved number.
Unknown — You looked so cute parading around in your sleep shorts. Can I cut them off you?
A slight panic began to set into your chest. Maybe it was a stalker or a pervy peeker who didn’t realize the damn sheriff’s son was in your bed right now. Well… not right now. But his truck was still here, so that counted for something.
X — wrong number.
You replied. Just short enough to keep your identity vague.
A minute later, and another chime.
Unknown — So you give Gator some ass, but you won’t come out of the bedroom to pay me any attention?
You could hear your heartbeat in your ears. Was this freak in your house? Did he hurt Gator? The thought crossed your mind to text back and ask, but what if that gave you up? Glancing at the nightstand, you slid off the bed and fell to your knees. You searched the bottom drawer for the pistol your dad convinced you to buy, hoping you remembered how to flip the safety off. Yet as you pushed between the miscellaneous junk, the gun wasn’t there, and you wouldn’t have put it anywhere else. Weighing your options of defense, you instead grabbed the hammer inside.
Moving back onto your feet, you made your way to the bedroom door. Your ear pressed against the wood, listening for movement on the other side. It was silent, just as it had been earlier.
Your phone chimed again. Fishing it from your pocket, you glanced down at the new notification.
Unknown — you’re not giving me the silent treatment, are you?
Unknown - c’mon, mama. i just wanna make you scream.
Your nose scrunched, and you rolled your eyes. This guy was fucking baiting you. Pocketing the device, you reached for the doorknob when two large fists pounded against it from the otherside. In your panic, you yelped and stumbled back from the door. You could hear the low chuckle of amusement from the other side of the door, yet you couldn’t quite place it.
Raising the hammer, you tugged open the door, ready to swing. Yet no one was there. Your eyes traveled up and down the hallway, only to find that it was empty. Against your better judgment, you staked out the hall, your eyes peeled for any sudden movements. There was hardly any space in your house for this asshole to keep hiding from you.
“Gator, I swear to God, if you’re fucking around with me, this isn’t—”
The hair at the back of your neck stood up. Before you could react, a hand clamped over your mouth while a strong arm snaked around your waist. In your panic, you dropped the hammer, and the stranger dragged you backwards, leaving the tool to clatter against the floor. You thrashed in his hold, fingers clawing at the large hands that grabbed at you.
“Quit fighting me,” The stranger sneered, his tone low and grumbling in his chest, “You wanted this, mama. I’m happy to oblige.”
Your brow furrowed in confusion at the words. You continued to kick your legs and jerk against him while he tugged you back. Eventually, he tossed you through the doorway of the bedroom. You stumbled down onto your hands and knees, off balance and gasping for air.
When you glanced back at the stranger, your eyes widened in shock. Hovering over you was a man in all black, wearing a Jack Skellington mask. He stomped closer, boots heavy as he drew near. You pushed yourself back, skidding across the bedroom floor until your upper back came in contact with the bedframe.
You cowered back against the frame, your hands and feet planted against the floor. Your knees were slightly spread so that you stared up into the black holes where the stranger glared down at you. He slowly cocked his head to the side, observing you, and you wondered what he was thinking behind the mask.
The stranger nudged his boot between your legs, the toe nestling against your core. The action made your breath hitch, and the man hummed in satisfaction at your response. He dragged the tip of his steel-toed boot over your covered cunt, the pressure and friction dragging over your clit perfectly. Your fingers curled into the carpet while your lips parted with a soft sigh.
“You just look so pretty at my feet,” The stranger taunted you, continuing his actions, “Maybe next time I’ll let you rub your pussy on my boot while you suck me off. But I’ve been craving that cunt all night, and you’re gonna let me have it.”
You gasped when his hand grabbed under your arms and yanked you up off the floor. He shoved you back onto your bed, hands eagerly grabbing at your pajama bottoms before tugging them down your legs. You made a half-hearted attempt to squirm away, but he simply grabbed your ankles and tugged you back to the edge of the bed. The calloused tips of his fingers trailed down your calf and over the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. You couldn’t help the eager roll of your hips against his crotch. His bludge was large and pressed against the zipper of his jeans.
The shaky breath he released only made you smile in satisfaction. He chuckled at your reaction, “You’re a little fucking freak, aren’t you, mama? You gonna let me fuck this pretty pussy? I bet you're already soaked… why don’t I just check?”
You heard the switchblade open before you saw it. Cool metal pressed against your skin and sliced upward, cutting your thong off of you. A gasp escaped your lips, your hips jerking up in surprise. He pressed the flat side of the blade against your mound, and you had to urge yourself to remain still at the cooling sensation. The edge of the knife raked gently over your skin before he made a second slice, your panties rippling away. His thumb dipped down to graze over your slit, dragging your slick upwards.
“Oh, she’s fucking greedy. That’s what I like to see,” He chuckled in amusement as the pad of his thumb pressed against your clit. With his other hand, he closed and pocked the blade, yet you could feel his gaze holding your own. The tip of his thumb swirled around your clit, occasionally flicking at it. The hyperfocus on your clit left you breathless as he continued to toy with you, “Don’t look at me like that. You’re the one who wanted them. So sing for me, mama. Tell him how much you love this.”
Before you could prep yourself, his hand lightly swatted at your cunt, the sensation making you groan at the dull and pleasurable ache. He straightened his stature, his hands moving to undo his zipper and free his cock from its constraints. The tip already had a pearl of precum smeared across it, and his hand settled at the base before he gave himself a light squeeze.
He guided his length over your folds, the head of his cock dragging through your warmth. You shuddered at the sensation and released a soft whine. He tapped the head of his cock against your clit, satisfied with each little sound he pulled from you, “Yeah? Are you really that needy, honey? Don’t I fuck you good enough as is?”
The slip of his word made you glance up at him curiously, “G-Gator?”
“What you stuttering my name for?” He finally tilted his mask up. A large shadow hung over his smug face, “Who else were you expecting, mama? You got me trapped here with you in a storm and put silly ideas in my brain, and now I’m inclined to fuck you stupid.”
Gator resituated the mask over his face once more. His hands settled over your hips again before rolling you over onto your stomach as he climbed onto top of you. His palm shoved your face into the mattress, and you could hear him fiddling with his pocket. It wasn’t until his nails scratched against your scalp, tugging your head up by your hair, and his phone camera angled in front of your face that you realized what kind of animal you unleashed.
“Smile, mama,” Gator chuckled as the flash went off. He tossed the phone back onto the nightstand as he slid back. His hands guided your hips and knees up, your back arching as your chest remained settled against the bed.
The head of his cock slid up your folds, lightly catching against your hole. You shuddered at the sensation, swaying back to feel more of him. Gator stilled your movements, swatting the swell of your ass, “As I said, you’re so fuckin’ greedy for this cock. It’s depraved, really.”
You opened your mouth to argue, only to have the air knocked from your lungs as his cock breached your entrance. The words died on a strangled gasp as you clawed at the bedsheets. Gator released a satisfied grunt, “Damn, tight as hell, honey. After I fingered you earlier and everything. But that’s why you got the perfect pussy for me to play with, mama.”
He rocked his hips once, his pelvis grinding against your ass. The tip nudged against the sweet spot that made your head spin and thoughts die on your tongue. When he felt your muscles begin to relax, he pulled out a few inches before snapping his hips back into you. The sensation made your toes curl, and he observed the way you squirmed with dark satisfaction.
“This is what you needed, huh? Could’ve just been a big girl and used your words, but we had to watch the damn movie and waste time when I could’ve been fucking you like this the whole time,” Gator growled as he began to pick up his pace. It was brutal, the speed at which he pounded into it with just the right amount of force. As the tips of his finger dug into the flesh of your hips, you could already feel what bruises would show tomorrow.
One of his hands trailed down your spine, the tingling sensation spurring your cunt to flutter in anticipation. Gator released a satisfied groan. His hand splayed over your upper back, between your shoulder blades. He used the new point of leverage to his advantage, pulling nearly all the way out before forcing his length back into your needy hole. The sounds of contact were wet, squelching, and purely obscene. Each thrust had you gasping, and you could hear the bloodrushing in your ears, ambient to Gator’s growl.
When your hips began to droop on their own accord, Gator smirked to himself, “Aw, is the masked man fucking you dumb, mama?”
Before you could muster up the energy to respond, Gator’s forearms latched under your shoulders to tug you upright. Your back was pinned against his broad chest, while the soft cotton of his shirt cushioned your skin. His hands cupped the swell of your breasts through your sweater as he continued to fuck up into you. The tips of his index fingers traced the outline of your nipples through your sweater, a dizzy feeling. Your head lulled back against his shoulder, the plastic of the mask occasionally grazing against your jawline.
Eventually, one of his hands trailed back down to the soft skin between your lower abdomen and mound. Gator’s palm lightly pressed down, just enough to feel your muscles go taut with each thrust. He loved feeling just how well he filled you. With one of your arms now free, one of your shaky hands moved upwards to unmask him. But he was quicker than you.
He easily caught your wrist, fingers pressing against your pulse point, “No, ma’am. That ain’t what you signed up for tonight.”
Once again, Gator was tossing you down onto the bed like a rag doll. You attempted to brace yourself back onto your elbows and knees, assuming your previous position. But that wasn’t what Gator wanted.
Instead, Gator’s calloused palms fully shoved your flat against the mattress. He pulled out completely, nudging your legs further apart with his knee. With a loud snap, he spanked you, rubbing at the warm flesh as he watched you jerk. Finally, Gator crawled on top of you, the drag of his dick leaving a trail of slick on your backside. One of his large hands planted itself on the left side of your head, his dominant hand guiding himself back into your waiting cunt. An indulgent groan tumbled from his mouth when he bottomed out again. His weight settled on top of you, trapping you under his imposing form.
Gator planted his knees that bracketed your hips, but instead of drilling into you, he opted for a languid roll of his hips. This left you feeling every thick, veiny inch of his cock claim you over and over again. With each press, your cries of pleasure became louder. Though no one would be able to hear you between the distance and the storm, his right hand clamped over your mouth. He could feel the soft, warm pants warm his palm and used it to set the tempo of his thrusts.
You took deep breaths through your nose, vision hazy as Gator continued to fuck you stupid. He breathily chuckled into your ear, “You can hardly keep your head up, you’re so fucked out, mama. Mmm, you gonna let me cum inside? Gonna let a creep like me fill your pussy?”
It took all your focus to barely just nod your head, but it was enough of a sign for Gator. His other hand moved up to cover your eyes, leaving your senses heightened. It was all so much: each grunt into your ear, the weight of him pushing you into the mattress, and the way the head of his cock deliciously punctuated each stroke with endless pleasure. Any sense of time was gone, and you felt almost weightless as the euphoria spread through your body. This was far past a casual fuck between you; it was nearly animalistic lust.
“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” he repeated like a mantra. Gator was determined to feel your pussy spasm and gush around him before he reached his own release. He was approaching his edge quickly, and he knew you were right there with him, “C’mon, mama, I wanna hear you scream.”
His hand fell away as your wanton moans filled the room once more. You could hardly think past the first syllable of his name, much less form the words. But Gator knew that each soft glottal was intended to be a cry of his name. Each strangled noise was louder than the last, until a profane sob erupted from you. The white heat flushed through your body, leaving you shaking beneath him while Gator began to unravel. Your name left his lips like a prayer as he stilled, spilling his seed deep inside.
Catching his breath, Gator rocked his hips a few more times, allowing himself to soften before pulling out. He rolled off of you, his back hitting the mattress. He raised one hand to yank the mask off, then discarded it over the side of the bed. It gently rattled against the floor, interrupting the patter of your breath.
“I’ll buy you a plan B tomorrow,” his chest rose and fell with each heavy breath. His head lulled over to check on you, not liking the quiet. Gator’s brown eyes darted over your flustered features, senses slowly coming back to you. The corner of his lip twitched upward, clearly satisfied with himself. If you weren’t in such a state of exhaustion, you probably would’ve thrown a pillow at his head for his words and cocky gaze.
Gator felt the subtle shift of your arm reaching out for him. He took the signal, tugging your frame into his side. His arm tucked itself around your shoulder, while the other pulled the blankets over both of you. The press of your forehead to his chest finally slowed his breathing down from the high. Maybe it wasn’t soft for the right person, but it was one of the gentler moments you had with him. He made no additional move to kiss or soothe you; he just held you to his side. “Go to sleep, we’ll get cleaned up in the morning.”
The wedding was simple. It was effortlessly beautiful, exactly like Maya. It couldn't have been more her in all honesty. You and Joe sat in a church pew. Quiet whispers about how pretty certain details were. His hand spread across your thigh where the slit of your dress had left it exposed.
Joe had a quietness to him the entire day. A thoughtfully quietness. One that made you watch him as you had put your earrings in earlier and he sat at the foot of the bed. He tugged at his fingers and ran his fingers through his hair.
Maybe he was just nervous for Maya. It was a pretty big day. A day most women look forward to their entire lives. The two of you had listened to Maya's nervousness over the past few weeks. She'd come over and pace the small kitchen while you cooked. Her words coming out ninety-to-nothing. Joe would come into the rescue and give her advice like she was one of his sisters and at this point, she was.
The ceremony felt like it had only lasted a few minutes. Vows had been exchanged and then Maya was being dipped and kissed by her now husband. Claps and cheers erupted through the chapel. You smiled happily and felt the tears prick at your eyes as you clapped and watched them leave out of the chapel first.
Joe's hand rubbed up and down your back and when you looked up at him, he was already looking down at you. That soft look in his eyes that made your heart pound. Because amidst all of the chaos around, he was watching you.
"Love you..." He muttered for only you to hear as he leaned down and pressed his lips to your temple.
Then came the reception. It was a short walk to the rented-out bar hall. You walked alongside Joe and the rest of the Stranger Things cast that had attended. Quiet chatter carried through the group. A few people catching up and other's just complimenting the ceremony.
"You look so pretty." Joe leaned in and whispered to you as you had all stopped at a crosswalk. "I can't remember if I told you earlier or not."
A heat slowly crept up your neck and to your cheeks as you rolled your eyes. Trying to appear unaffected from his compliment as you leaned into him. Your forehead leaning against his jaw as you both stood still at the cross walk.
Music was heard from outside and already an excited flurry coursed through the group. It all started to come in a blur. Glasses of champagne turned into red wine until you were loose and giggling on the makeshift dance floor with Natalia. Maya had joined in the dancing even.
Then came the bouquet toss. You stood off to the side and watched as her bridesmaids and other girls raised their arms to catch the flowers. It was amusing at most really. You weren't putting yourself out there to fight for a bouquet of flowers.
"Why aren't you trying to catch it, hm?" Arms slid around your waist and a warm voice murmured lowly in your ear. You relaxed back against him like it was instinctual. Your hands rubbing over his forearms.
"You want me to go catch it?" You asked him with a raised eyebrow and a teasing smile tugging at your lips. Your head turning slightly to look back at him over your shoulder. "You know what it means if I catch it, right?"
"I know exactly what it means." He muttered and buried his face in the crook of your neck.
Your heart fluttered at his insinuation, and you faced forward again to watch the women quite literally fight for the flowers. Your nails dragged across his arm absentmindedly. He'd started to sway the two of you still standing in the same place. Some slow song playing in his own head as he left light kisses across your neck.
When it all started to wind down later on into the night, you bid your farewells to everyone. Everyone you could find anyways. Some people had already left in quiet fashion. You hugged Maya tightly and congratulated her and then your hand found Joe's. Pulling him behind you to the waiting car for both of you.
His hand stayed on your thigh the entire ride home. Heavy, warm and familiar. Both of you were still tipsy from the drinks consumed. So, when he unlocked the door to the apartment and you stumbled in a giggle fell from your lips. He just watched you with a dopey smile on his pink lips. Tugging his trench coat off and hanging it up as you kicked your heels off by the rest of the shoes.
"Mmm, c'mere.." he muttered as he caught your waist and tugged you into him. Your arms folding around his neck. "You love me?" He muttered the question and stared down at you. His eyes darting from your drunk eyes and then to your lips. A repetitive motion.
"Yes, I love you." You scoff and roll your eyes. "Why would you ask me that?"
"Just wanted to make sure." He muttered with a grin as his lips found yours.
You melted against him at the feeling of his lips against yours. Your fingers tangling in his now shorter hair. A soft hum came from your throat as he deepened the kiss. His hands sliding down to the curve of your ass.
"Marry me." He muttered breathlessly against your mouth.
Everything stopped at his words. You forcefully stopped the kiss and pulled back to look at him. Your eyebrows pulled together. "What?" You whispered.
He stared down at you like he hadn't meant for the words to actually come out. Like it was some unspoken thought that had been at the tip of his tongue all night. He let out some deep breath that he'd been holding in and his hands let go of you.
"I just-" He ran a hand through his hair and then they started to move in his nervous mannerism. "This whole day has made me just look at you. Like really look at you and I-" His shoulders fell and his eyes scanned over you. "I-I love you and I want that."
No words came from you as you stared at him. You felt speechless.
"And yes, it is partially from all of this going on, but just-" he tossed his hands up and laughed softly. "All of those things Maya was coming over here to ramble about. About not knowing if he was it and how she was scared and I just sat there thinking about you."
Tears tugged at your eyes and you still just stared at him.
"You're it for me. I don't-I don't want to do this with anyone else. We don't have to do it right now or anything because Maya might think we copied her but-"
You chose then to stop his rambling. Stepping forward to eliminate the space between the two of you. Your hands cupped his face, and you pressed your lips to his. He melted against your touch and his fingers wrapped around your wrists.
"I love you." You muttered against his lips. "If you were being serious then yes." You whispered and pulled back to look at him.
His lips were parted as he stared at you. "Hell yeah, I'm serious. Are you serious?" He whispered even though it was only the two of you in the apartment.
"Yes, I'm serious-" He cut off your words with his lips.
"God, I'm gonna marry you so hard." He muttered against your lips making you giggle. His arms scooping under your knees and behind your back to lift you up bridal style.
liked by obxfan4life, skatagirlfinn, y/nandfinnluvr, and others
deuxmoi finn wolfhard and y/n y/l/n have been spotted together a few different times now in nyc! what do we think? 👀
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user1 lowkey feels so forced
| user2 that’s what i’m sayinggg
| user3 can we not? :/
user4 this pr ass relationship
user5 i think it’s cute for now at least lol
y/nandfinnluvr MY FAVORITE PPL OF ALL TIME
user6 they’re both hot so it works
user7 i think they’re just friends!
| user8 girl be so fr
| user9 he’s not gonna let you hit
user10 lmfao seems like she’s using him so obx5 doesn’t tank
| user11 what an awful thing to say lol
| user12 her bff is sadie so this isn’t that far fetched… be nice lol
user13 they irritate me omfg
| user14 SAME
user15 she has zero personality and is so clingy
that last comment stuck with you like no other. you stared at it longer than you probably should’ve. your brain does that awful thing where it starts replaying moments, picking them apart — the way you leaned into him at an event, the way you laughed when he whispered something in your ear, the way cameras always seemed to catch you reaching for him first.
your chest tightened and a frown tugged at your lips as your shoulders folded in slightly, the room suddenly feeling too quiet. you don’t notice finn watching you from the foot of your bed until he speaks.
“…hey.”
you don’t look up. “mhm?”
that alone told him something was wrong.
he sets his guitar aside and moves toward you, climbing onto the bed slowly. the mattress dips as he settles beside you against the headboard, hands in his lap, and his knee brushing yours.
“what happened?” he asks gently.
you hesitate, then hold the phone out toward him without a word. he reads it. his brows furrow and his eyes darken in that quiet, protective way. he locks your phone and sets it aside.
“that’s… such bullshit,” he says quietly.
you shrug, but your voice comes out smaller than you mean it to. “am i clingy?”
his gaze softens immediately and he chuckles. “yes,” your eyes widen, lips parted like you were going to say something. “but i love it.”
he wraps his arm around your shoulder and pulls you into his chest.
“you’re an asshole,” you say as you playfully slap his chest.
he laughs as he rests his other hand lightly against the backs of your thighs and pulls your legs over his lap. “i’m serious though,” he starts, tracing shapes on your thigh. “i love having you by my side all the time.”
“you mean it?” you ask softly, looking up at him.
he presses a kiss to your forehead. “mhm.”
he studies your face for a second before lifting his hand to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, fingertips lingering along your jaw.
“you okay?” he asks.
you nod but your fingers reach for the strings of his hoodie anyway, gripping them lightly. “just needed you.”
he smiles softly, leaning in, kissing you gently. it starts soft, careful, but when you lean forward into him, the kiss deepens almost immediately. his hand slides along your thighs again, separating them to straddle his hips, your body naturally folding into him.
your fingers curl into his hoodie tighter as you kiss him back. finn exhales quietly against your lips, his grip tightening slightly, fingertips sliding up your hips and sides, resting gently at your waist.
“you know i love you, right?” he murmurs between kisses, voice rougher now, “like so much.”
your stomach flips at his words. he hadn’t said that yet. you pull back in shock, but you smile softly. palms flat against his chest.
“i love you too.”
you shift instinctively, joining your lips with his again, one hand sliding up to the back of his neck, fingers grazing lightly through his hair. he inhales sharply, forehead dropping against yours for half a second like he’s trying to steady himself before kissing you again — slower this time, deeper, lingering in a way that makes your pulse jump.
your breath catches when his lips skim down toward your jaw, pausing there, waiting, giving you space to pull back but you don’t.
your hands slide to his shoulders, grounding yourself as you tilt your head, giving him more room. he presses a softer, slower kiss beneath your ear. the contact sends a warm rush down your spine.
“finn…” you whisper, half warning, half breathless.
his arms tighten around you instinctively, pulling you closer like the sound of his name alone does something to him.
“yeah?” he murmurs, lips brushing back toward yours.
you shake your head, smiling faintly, nerves and warmth and affection all tangled together. “nothing.”
he studies your face for a moment, then he kisses you again — slower now, but heavier with feeling. his hand slides beneath your t-shirt, tracing your spine.
eventually he leans back even further, tugging your gently down with him until you’re both sinking into the pillows, your head against his shoulder, his arm wrapped securely around your waist.
his fingers continued to trace lazy circles on your back, the rhythm slow and comforting, his lips brushing once against your temple.
“do you wanna order some food?” he asks gently.
you look up at him, smiling wide. “yes please. i’m absolutely starving.”
a/n: not that anyone cares but i got a new job today and i’m super excited about it 🥹 also i’m mourning loulivia that’s why i used their pics LOL
synopsis: steve comes home from work to find you waiting… lace, heat, and all for him on valentine’s day.
warnings: smut and not proofread lol bloop
steve harrington had a long day. teaching hormonally challenged teens about sex was definitely not his idea of a good day. he had to hear their awkward questions and the way they giggled every time he had said a word that was only funny to the teenage mind.
that’s why, when steve got home and heard the sound of his keys jingling against the lock, it was like music to his ears. his shoulders instantly dropped in relaxation as the smell of his wife’s vanilla candles filled his nose. he dropped his keys in the bowl by the door and kicked off his sneakers.
“steve?”
the soft, sultry lilt of your voice stopped him in his tracks. his ears immediately recognized the direction of the sound and followed it into the bedroom, and what he saw made his jaw go slack.
the bedroom was transformed. candles flickered in every corner, casting warm, golden glows over scattered rose petals. a bottle of your favorite wine sat chilling on the nightstand, two glasses waiting. and there, sitting in the middle of it all, was his wife—every inch of you radiating confidence and desire, wearing the white lingerie set he never stopped thinking about.
“happy valentine’s day,” you whispered, standing up and stepping closer to him, the curve of your hip brushing against him as you leaned in to press a soft kiss to his lips.
steve swallowed hard, his heart hammering in his chest. “you look incredible,” his fingers traced your sides. “you did all this for me?”
you smirked, a playful glint of mischief in your eyes. “for my husband,” you corrected softly. “who comes home exhausted and still smiles when he sees me.”
that did it. steve’s knees felt like jelly as he shrugged his jacket off and pulled you flush against him, inhaling your scent—vanilla and rose and something so distinctly you. “you have no idea how good it feels to be home right now,” he murmured against your ear, fingers now tracing your lace.
then, you kissed him—slow at first. steve melted into it like he was savoring the fact that this was real, that you were here and you were his. your fingers tugged at his shirt, grounding him as his fingers untied your robe, letting it fall off your shoulders.
“i don’t deserve you,” he said quietly against your lips before he scooped you up without warning, earning a surprised laugh from you as he laid you on the bed.
he broke the kiss as he situated himself on top of you and pulled his shirt over his head. by now, you had soaked through the lace at the sight of him. you traced your fingertips over your nipples that had protruded through the lace. steve leaned back down, pressing wet kisses all over your chest. you arched into him, hands finding themselves on his shoulders.
he kissed down your body, stopping at the thin lace at your hips. he pressed a kiss just above the waistband before taking the fabric in his teeth and guiding it down your hips. you bucked your hips slightly, giving him extra space to pull them down. once they were past your thighs, you shimmied them off, the lace ending up on the floor somewhere.
steve’s eyes grew darker immediately as he saw how slick you were already. a smirk laid thick on his face before he nestled himself between your thighs. he brushes his nose over your clit, exhaling softly causing you to twitch. one of his hands reaches up to hold you in place by your hip.
steve’s tongue immediately went to work, swirling around your clit effortlessly. he sucked on it until his lips were swollen before his tongue glided down to your entrance, teasing it.
“fuck… m’steve,” you cried out, bottom lip tangled between your teeth.
“so wet baby,” he whispered, the vibrations causing your back to arch and your toes to curl.
one thing about steve, he knew how to get you worked up. it’s almost like he thrived off of it. watching you squirm under his touch, making you beg for it. he loved the way your fingers would tangle in his hair as he buried himself between your thighs, his tongue fucking you senseless.
you felt that familiar heat pool in the pit of your belly and it’s almost like steve sensed it because he let go of your clit with a pop, a string of saliva keeping you connected.
you whimpered at the sudden loss of contact, your thighs clenching together as the cold air of the room swallowed you. steve sat up on his knees, fumbling with his belt before sliding his pants and boxers down his hips and onto the floor they went, his hard cock springing free against his stomach. he was already dripping with precum.
he found his way above you again, his lips connecting to yours as one hand squeezed your hips and the other held one of your hands above your head. your free hand found itself tracing his stomach down to his cock, fingertips tracing the veins. he moaned against your lips.
“steve,” you pulled away from his kiss, looking up at him with your doe eyes as you swiped your thumb over the slit, the sticky substance coating the pad of your finger. “please. i need you.”
steve wasted no time separating your thighs and lining himself up with your entrance. his lips tangled with yours as he slid in, swallowing the gasp that escaped your throat. he moved slowly as first, being sure to let you adjust. you pulled back from the kiss, your pouty lips on full display as you moaned into the air.
“so tight, baby.” steve grunted, almost pulling completely out before rutting back into you, slow and teasingly painful.
you couldn’t take it anymore. you needed him completely inside of you, filling you up to the fullest potential. “god, steve. faster please.” you mumbled, eyes in the back of your head as you clawed at his back.
“oh yeah?” he huffed. “think you can take it?”
you whimpered. “uh-huh.”
steve just smirked before he took both of your hands and pinned them above your head as he slammed into you, skin against skin. you moaned terribly loud as steve dipped his head and took your swollen nipple into between his lips.
“you’re so perfect f’me baby, so wet.” steve mumbled against your breast. “i love coming home to you like this.”
“yeah?” you whined through moans.
steve hummed. “so fucking perfect.”
his tongue danced circles around your nipple, sucking occasionally. it was sure enough to leave a bruise later.
steve’s cock curved into you just right, hitting that sweet-spongy spot that set you over the edge. you cried out, practically begging him to release your hands so you could scratch at his back. he did and you did just that, your palms flush against his shoulder blades, nails leaving crescents.
“i’m so close.” you moaned through breaths, your walls clenching around steve, making him twitch inside of you.
steve leaned down and kissed you. “me too, princess.”
his hips bucked into yours, the coarse hair tickling the inside of your thighs sending a well known feeling through your veins. your toes curled into the sheets as your eyes squeezed shut and your lips parted.
“where d’ya want it?” steve’s voice was barely audible through his broken moans.
“inside. baby, please.” your voice broke as you painted his cock in your slick, squelching sounds filling the room as steve fucked you through your orgasm. your vision blurred over in bliss.
steve wasn’t far behind. a few more thrusts and he was painting your walls in his cum, his face scrunching in pleasure. it was a sight you’d never get tired of. steve went to pull out but you stopped him.
“stay,” your voice was soft, steve’s eyes glassy in ecstasy but he looked confused. “let’s just stay like this.”
the two of you had been married for five years but this was something you had never tried in your marriage before. you wanted to feel him go soft inside of you.
steve smiled that charming smile of his and pressed himself down on you, grabbing your waist and rolling onto his back, bringing you on top of him without leaving you. he situated the fluffy comforter over the both of you, bringing it up to your shoulders.
his hands rubbed circles on your back as your cheek rested against his chest, fingers absentmindedly tracing shapes on his shoulder. he pressed kisses to your hairline every few seconds.
“babe?” his voice broke the silence.
you looked up at him, chin now propped up on his collar bone. “yeah?”
“thank you for being my wife,” he mumbled. your brows furrowed. “seriously,” his voice cracked. “i don’t know what i’d do without you.”
you smiled softly at him, blinking. you leaned in and kissed him, deep and passionately. “you’ll never have to know.”
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