[monseille]

I see your future and it’s very bright

oh… my god… thanks, what else do you see? am i passing my chem final? 🤓

[monseille]

Giving Garrett Graham the perfect post—practice relief ⋆ female reader, explicit language, oral sex (male receiving), handjob.

─────

“Fuck, baby.” Garrett rasped, his voice low and tired as the big hand he had wrapped around your silky hair in a makeshift ponytail tightened just a little.

The exhaustion from the ice still clung to him, you noticed from how his broad shoulders were slightly slumped, his muscles rigid, his playful smile not quite reaching his eyes.

So earlier, when you suggested doing something to take his mind off of hockey for a while, he’d figured you meant ordering takeout from Malone’s and watching ‘The wedding planner’ for the hundredth time. Certainly, not this.

Not you, looking so pretty in your knees right in front of him while he sat back in his desk chair, muscular thighs spread wide enough to make space for you.

You pulled back with a wet pop, strings of spit still connecting your lips to his glistening cock. “Told you this would help.”

“You did.” He laughed, low, running a hand through his tousled dark curls, just so he could look at you better.

Strands of hair fell down the sides of your face, lashes damp, swollen lips covered with his arousal, the strings of your lacy bralette sliding off your shoulders.

One of his fingers reached for your cheekbone, tracing small circles on the flushed skin. “So beautiful, baby.” He whispered, the words coming out slurred from pure tiredness.

You leaned into his touch before wrapping your hand around his length and trying to hold all of him, which was impossible, you’d tried.

Garrett hissed like a wound animal, the hard ridges of his stomach contracting when you gave him one slow, cruel stroke. Feeling the drag of your fingers against his throbbing cock was everything he needed.

A deep, strangled grunt left out his lips as you slid your thumb over the red, slick–covered tip. You felt how it pulsed beneath your touch, at the same rhythm of his heartbeat.

“Fuck, wait, baby.” He cleared his throat, voice still coming out rough. “Slow down or I’ll come.” And for the millionth time, he dragged a hand through his curls, as if that were enough to ground him.

“That’s the point, Graham.” You said, too playful, too amused, but your eyes softened at the sight of him.

Small beads of sweat running down his forehead, hair a mess, his eyebrows deeply furrowed, chest moving up and down, the muscles of his jaw twitching each time you touched him just right.

“Right.” He started, the laugh he attempted to get out replaced by a trembling breath because you kept pumping your hand. “But— wanna come inside your mouth.”

You didn’t answered, with words, at least.

For the last time, you leaned forward, your lips leaving obscene open–mouthed kisses over the tip, your tongue tracing the prominent vein along his cock before pushing down, slowly, keeping your own pace, once again trying to fit all of him. But failing miserably.

Garrett’s sure his brain melted. “Oh, fuck.”

You kept the rhythm steady, lips sliding smoothly in an up and down motion all over his length as your hot tongue worked him with unhurried strokes. Meanwhile, your hand pumped in time what you couldn’t quite reach.

“Keep goin’, baby.” He rasped out, his voice hoarse. His thick fingers tangled gently through your hair, just holding, not guiding.

You hummed around him, taking him deeper, the vibration sending shivers down his spine, but you kept sucking with enough pressure, hollowing your cheeks.

Quickly, Garrett’s breathing turned ragged, the toned muscles of his thighs tensing, fighting back the pleasure.

“I’m close— fuck, I’m so close.”

And you didn’t pull away, not until you felt how his body locked up, how he panted your name under his breath along with a curse, and especially not until he pulsed thick and hot across your tongue, savoring the salty ropes of him.

He threw his head back with a low moan, now his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead and his lips parted, trying to catch his breath. You waited until you swallowed every drop to ease off and leave a final kiss to the sensitive tip.

Garrett, with the strength he had left, leaned forward in the chair, big hands sliding under your arms to pull you up onto his lap.

He wrapped you in his arms against his heaving chest, and you found your place in the curve where his shoulder met his neck.

“See how I was right?” You smiled against his warm skin. “You needed to relax.”

He pressed a lazy kiss to your temple, laughing. “Never doubting you again.”

“Glad you learned.”

“Damn right I did, baby.”

─────

note ⋆ posted two days in a row… who is this. i started this today and thanks to some miracle finished it, i reached flow state while listening to omar courtz, so yep, here’s the result. 🙂‍↕️

[monseille]

The one time you help Garrett Graham with his sit–ups, or where he almost gets you banned from Briar’s gym ⋆ female reader, explicit language, suggestive, dirty talk, dry humping, making out, caught.

─────

The gym was empty, low lights hummed overhead, and it was quiet, well.

Except for the sounds of heavy breathing and the wet slide of lips, which was completely inappropriate because you were in a public place for God’s sake. But honestly? Neither of you cared enough to stop. 

The plan was simple, in theory. You were supposed to be spotting Garrett during sit–ups. Easy. But somewhere between the first reps, the flutter of your eyelashes and the way his hazel eyes dragged over you, everything got out of control, quickly.

Now, he was flat on his back, shirtless, grey sweatpants hanging dangerously low on his hips. Every ripped muscle of his toned stomach and the dark trail of hair disappearing beneath the Calvin Klein waistband was on full display. 

You straddled him, thighs spread wide, your throbbing core pressed tight against the thick, growing bulge in his sweats. 

Big hands slid down your leggings, gripping the plump flesh of your ass before giving a small but sharp slap, and the sting pulled a gasp out of you. 

“Fuck,” Garrett hissed as you bit his bottom lip. 

You braced your hands on his sweat covered chest and kissed him, desperate. It was all teeth and tongue. His rough palms roamed everywhere, up your back, cupping your tits through the annoyingly thin fabric of your top. 

You moaned into his mouth, “Garrett.”

“Taste so fuckin’ good.” He rasped between kisses. Now, one hand dropped to your hip, guiding you in slow circles against him. 

Garrett sighed, his eyes closing for a split second. “Easy, just like that, baby.” 

“You enjoying this, Graham?” You breathed out against his neck, licking the salt from his skin. 

He laughed, low, the sound sending waves right to your aching pussy. “Damn right I am,” 

“Maybe too much.” 

“Maybe, but bet that you’re already soaked for me.” Fuck him. 

A loud moan slipped through your parted lips as you rolled your hips just right, grinding down on his cock. The pressure against your clit was perfect, and with each second that went by, you only grew needier. 

You dragged a manicured finger down his stomach, hooking your thumb under the waistband of his sweats and tugging at it teasingly. How you loved messing with his head. He cursed under his breath, his jaw flexed, the small muscle twitching, and you just smiled. 

“Maybe I am,” you whispered. “But only because you’re such a slut for attention.”

“A slut?” Garrett raised an eyebrow, his tone dripping with amusement, a grin curled his lips. 

“You couldn’t stop looking at me.”

“Bold words, baby.” 

“And I stand by them.” 

“Wow.” Thick fingers dipped beneath your leggings, brushing skin, teasing the edge of your panties. “You know, I’m almost offended.” 

Your breath hitched, your confident facade cracked instantly. And your stomach did that fluttering thing as his fingertips slid lower, and lower. 

“Cat got your tongue?” 

Little shit.

“Oh, please shut—” A broken moan cut you off when the rough pad of his thumb pressed against your clothed clit, rubbing slow, almost lazy circles. “Fuck.” 

Garrett chuckled, low. His hooded eyes locked on your face, watching your brows furrow, your teeth sink into your plush lip as you tried to stay quiet. Which, you failed at, clearly. And the sight could have been enough for him to come all over his sweats.

“Come on, baby,” he grunted. “Let me feel how fuckin’ wet you are for—” 

The sound of someone clearing their throat cut through the heavy breathing and… everything in between like a knife. 

You startled hard, gasping. Garrett’s hand disappeared from your leggings as you shoved at his chest. He dropped back against the mat with a ‘thud’ and a grunt, but you stayed still in his lap, mortified.

“Fuck— what—” He started, shoving his damp curls off his sweaty forehead so he could scowl at the annoying intruder who had the audacity to interrupt. 

Said intruder was Coach Jensen who stood a few feet away, looking thoroughly done and somewhat unimpressed.

“Guys,” he sighed. “We’ve actually talked about this.” 

Your cheeks burned, red blooming over your skin. Like a decent person would, you tried to scramble off, but Garrett’s grip on your hips did anything but loosen. You shot him a glare that would’ve made any other normal guy back down, but no, this was Garrett Graham. 

“Coach,” he said, voice still rough, but being careful to not sound too unaffected. Meanwhile, you prayed that he didn’t say any ridiculous shit. “We were just… spotting each other.” 

You were actually going to kill him. 

“Oh my god, Garrett—”

“What?” He laughed, completely unbothered, looking at you amused, giving your hip a squeeze. He was enjoying this. “It’s not like we were fucking on the mat, yet.” Then, his voice dropped, just enough for you to hear. “Though, you were so ready for it.” 

You scoffed, trying again to escape from his grip, which was useless. “I can’t believe you.”

Coach Jensen pinched the bridge of his nose, tired and irritated. “Graham, just keep your hands to yourself during gym hours, I beg you.” 

He flashed a thumbs–up, as if that was enough. “Sure thing, Coach. I’ll try.”

And the second the metallic door clicked shut, Garrett sat up with you still in his lap, one warm hand sliding up your thigh, thumb tracing circles, close to where you really needed him. 

“Fuckin’ finally,” he sighed, flashing you that smirk that always made you make terrible, terrible decisions. 

You narrowed your eyes at him, wrapping your arms around his neck, playing with the ends of his curls. “I should be mad at you, asshole.” 

“But… I take you’re not?” 

“I actually hate you.” 

“Sure, try to say that better next time.”

His hand slipped back between your legs, feeling again how soaked you were. Chapped lips brushed against your pulse point, right where your neck met your shoulder. “Now, where were we?”

“Garrett,” you tried to argue, but folded the moment one of his fingers hooked beneath the strap of your top and slowly slid it off your shoulder. 

“You know, I believe I was about to discover how wet you were.” 

You laughed, smiling stupidly at him. “Well, less talking, Graham.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

[monseille]

can you let those fics in your dungeon out please😓 (sorry if i sent this twice tumblr is messing up for me!)

it’s fine, don’t worry!!

and yes i will!! i think i’ll post the gym one later tonight or tomorrow 🥳 i’m just finishing it up and editing any typos

[monseille]

i want this finished NOW, but gotta lock in for finals first… anyways, i’m still searching for a pic to use (help would be appreciated)

also thanks for the support, that was my first post and it was just INSANE. 🩵

[monseille]

You get too distracted with Garrett Graham’s chain while he’s fucking you ⋆ female reader, explicit language, sex, teasing.

─────

The room was humid and hot, too hot, and the air smelled faintly of sex, sweat and his cologne. His room was dark, except for the low golden light coming from the single lamp on his nightstand. 

A calloused hand traveled around your body until it settled on the flesh of your hip, lifting it slightly so he could sink himself deeper into your warmth. 

“Fuck, Garrett—” you gasped, eyebrows furrowing as your manicured nails dug into the muscles of his back, right over his tattoo. 

He smirked. “Yeah?” 

Damn him. 

His face hovered above yours, dark curls damp with sweat falling across his forehead. That lazy smile played on his mouth as he watched you fall apart, purely from the slow roll of his hips, the burn and the stretch of his cock sliding easily in and out of your pussy, again and again. 

And if that wasn’t enough, the thin, golden chain dangling between you, swinging with every thrust while catching the lamplight, made your stomach curl. Now, you couldn’t stop staring at it, the way it moved back and forth, brushing against your breasts each time he sank deep. 

“Baby,” he rasped, voice laced with amusement. “You’re gettin’ fuckin’ distracted again.” 

Your mouth opened to answer, but the words died in your throat as Garrett punctuated them with a cruel roll of hips, dragging the thick, leaking head of his cock along that spongy spot inside you. Immediately, your back arched, and anything you were about to say gets replaced by an embarrassingly loud moan. 

“I—I’m not,” you breathed out, eyes still glued to the swinging chain. 

“Yeah? you sure?” Garrett laughed, low and dangerous in that way that made you dizzy. He dipped lower, close enough for you to feel the three day stubble on his defined jaw scratch your cheek, close enough for the cool metal of the chain to brush against your nipple. Your breath hitched. “Don’t lie to me, baby.” He drawled against your earlobe.

You tried to answer. You really did. But what came out was barely a word, and more like… a strangled noise, and the fact that his cock was throbbing right inside you, coated with your arousal, stuffing you full with every thrust, letting you feel every ridge and vein along his length. Fuck, it didn’t help at all. 

And he noticed it, of course.

“Shit, don’t tell me I’ve already fucked you stupid.” 

“Jesus, shut up,” you choked out, tightening your legs around his waist, keeping him right where he was.

“Oh, so she talks.” The hand on your hip suddenly disappeared, sliding south, lower, and lower. All while that annoying smirk never seemed to leave his face. 

“Don’t—” A borderline pornographic moan tore from your lips as the rough pad of Garrett’s thumb drew lazy, effortless circles on your swollen clit. “Don’t— get so cocky.” 

“Me? Baby—” 

But before he could finish another arrogant remark, your trembling fingers reached up to wrap around the cool, golden chain. Desperate, you tugged hard on it, pulling him down until his chapped lips met yours. His hips faltered for a split second, and a groan rumbled from his chest as he kissed you back. The kiss was raw, messy, and intense. The back of his neck burned from the pressure of the chain, your grip was something, and he was sure it would leave a mark. 

A deep, sore, red line that he’d make you kiss better later in the shower, because he was definitely nowhere near done with you.