#god the eyeblack

[samgirard]

└intermission raw: barzal | nhl stadium series 2024: nyi vs nyr | 2.18.24

[yawnderu]

Currently obsessed with dbf!Keegan... like just imagine the scary dog privileges that come with having this man around. He doesn't even wear the balaclava or eyeblack when he's out, but just his creepy ass 🔵🔵 eyes are enough to scare off anyone who even looks your way. Like okay, we see them son. You can blink now.

And don't even get me started on how annoying this man would be. Pulling your hair to annoy you, flipping you off, pushing you out of the way and looking over his shoulder with the most annoying shit-eating grin that makes you want to actually punch him dead in the windpipe. Not to mention he'd totally see you struggling to open a jar and go "allow me" just to tighten it up more.

Absolute nightmare driver. He may take you out everywhere, but no one is an atheist when Keegan is driving and you really want to tell him, but he always keeps his gun on him.💀

BUT despite all the banter, his protective instincts kick in super easily with you. Someone is mean mugging you? He's glaring back. Someone says anything mean to you? He'll deal with it. God help any man who tries to flirt with you or catcalls you. He teaches you how to defend yourself since he won't always be there to protect you, often deployed in missions. I can also see him teaching you how to shoot a gun, just in case you ever need to. He takes you to a random field and teaches you the basics, and once you're confident enough, maybe he even takes you hunting.

I can see the dad being a disabled veteran who served with Keegan(?) simply happy to have some help with you, knowing Keegan can take you places and do things he can't do anymore. Despite you being an adult, I'm a sucker for father-daughter fluff, so the dad has def cried in secret whenever you show him new things you learnt or show him pictures of places Keegan took you to. Of course, he's not excluded, always hosting dinners and BBQs in the house whenever Keegan is back, and trying to join both of you if possible.

Keegan is like an annoying older brother, the type of man who makes you believe murder should be legal, yet you still deeply care for. He doesn't keep any things on him that may be linked to your father or you in fears of him being a ghost putting you in danger, but he has a bunch of polaroids in a safe in his house, which he looks at whenever he's off base and feeling down.

Speaking of pictures, you totally forced him to get into a photo booth with you and he now keeps the fucking ugliest pictures ever, threatening to ask a ghost to hack into your account and post them whenever you're being too annoying.

IF things ever go further between both of you, you can count on this man to slonk your shit silly style like sloppy swag. This man has a lot of pent-up frustration, which he only takes out on you after making sure you're okay with it.

He's a bully. Stops thrusting when you're feeling good just to hear you whine, thrusting painfully slow until you're begging for more.

There's definitely guilt when it comes to being intimate with you, despite you being in your mid-20s, you're the daughter of his best friend. It feels wrong, so he makes up for it by treating you extra good. You got spoiled before, but now? Prepare for the most extra and expensive gifts you never even thought about. He earns good money, and has plenty of savings just in case. He's still annoying, though.

[angelfoxx]

Coddling Keegan while giving him a handjob😖😖he’s cuddled up to you, head buried in your neck while your hand pumps his cock slow nd sloppy, whines a little when you pay attention to his tip, rubbing it with your thumb, “feels good, baby? Hm?” While ruffling his hair❤️❤️

“You wanna cum, sweet boy? Yeah?” You murmur, practically babying him🫶🫶

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° ❝ SWEET BOY? ❞

…in which a very tired keegan gets special treatment.

FEATURING: keegan p russ (duh)

WARNINGS: obviously nsfw. mild overstim. mentions of crying. whoopsie

NOTE/S: hi anon hope u know i read this and my stomach clenched up. sorry just thought u should be aware

“Feel good?” Your voice is just a soft murmur, sickeningly sweet and practically dripping in endearment. “Is that good, Kee?”

The only response you get is a breathy half-groan.

Poor Keegan. Genuinely. He’d come back from what he dubbed a shit mission this past afternoon; nothing too risky. Just a job that the “regular” recruits hit a wall with. A job that he had to go finish, because apparently the general force couldn’t get the fucking thing done.

His next assignment? Tomorrow afternoon. Approximately twelve hours from now, he’d be out again.

The poor guy was fucking exhausted. Hell, he’d called you that morning from the bed of the truck, and…you know why he had to go, you know that it’s his job and all, but…Christ, he’d sounded so tired. Tired and strained and done. Every nerve in your body had been screaming at you to fawn over him the minute he got home; a warm bath, a hot mug of tea (black). Some soup, bowl steaming. Hell, you’d been wringing your hands together at the mere thought of washing his hair. It had become a regular practice at this point; whenever he came back from an assignment, you’d be there to give him a soft landing upon arriving home.

This time around, you didn’t have the time for that. Despite his arguments, you’d probably have a word with whatever shit-for-brains commander had been in charge of putting him on back-to-back assignments.

To focus on the task at hand. Or in hand, rather. Keegan had told you he didn’t want all of the fancy stuff; tea, sure. Soup, sure. The bath and everything? No, he’d just shower.

He wanted a hot mug of tea, a bowl of soup, and then he wanted you to make him feel better in the best way you knew how.

Hence; your current position.

You hadn’t even made it to the bed. Keegan hadn’t even finished his fucking soup. He’d been staring into it like a ghost; gaze vacant, face empty, eyeblack staining his skin charcoal-gray. Hell, the man had just thrown whatever clothes he could find on; just a plain white tee and sweats. For once, he hasn’t been careful with his gear; he’s got it slung haphazardly across the chair beside him. His fucking rifle is sitting on the thing like it’s also eating soup.

He didn’t have to say much. He just kind of shifted and looked you in the eye; sat back, opened his legs a little wider.

Upon swinging a leg over him and sitting in his lap, Keegan had all but deflated.

He’d smelled like soap. Kind of tasted like it, too. Either he had scrubbed off a layer of skin in the shower or he’d just neglected to fully rinse all of the shampoo out of his hair. Either way, you didn’t mind; the fact that he smelled vaguely of vanilla (because for some reason he continued to take your shampoo and not use his own) and he was just slumped back in the chair, weakly holding onto your head as you littered a trail of little marks along his throat…

…oh, sweet boy.

He thought the pet name was stupid. Usually. He’d laugh at you if you called him by it in most situations; the day he’d apparently decided it was safe enough to kiss you goodbye before he boarded the plane to head out on an assignment, you’d called him a sweet boy and Keegan, fully geared up in his vest and helmet with probably five different weapons strapped on around his waist, had just whistled and hummed in response.

Sweet boy, carrying a rifle and a knife and god-fucking-knows-what-else.

Now, though, he doesn’t complain. Either because he’s too tired to or because, right now, even he knows that it’s fitting. Big, beefy soldier, pretty blue eyes rolled back, pretty pink lips parted and pretty little mouth too tired to fight the quiet little noises that would normally remain buried under his tongue. His brow knits, and his nostrils flare, and — oh — his chest rises and his breath hisses in through his nose.

A fat pearl of pre swells up on his tip for a moment before you run your thumb over it and spread it across the blunt round of his cockhead.

It’s not fair to him. Maybe. You’re going so slow and you’re just lazily stroking him but he doesn’t seem to mind. Oh, not at all. His brow knits and his mouth opens a little further; he lets out a short, hoarse breath, chest puffing up before it shudders back down and the muscles along his neck flex.

“Deep breaths, Kee.” You lean forward, kissing the side of his cheek and biting back a grin when his entire body shudders. “Easy.”

“I’m ff…fffuckin’ trying.” Keegan’s voice is rough, strained breathlessly thin. “I’m ff…uhhhckin’ trying, princess, but…”

“Can’t?” You smile, body shuddering. “Aw. Sweet boy.”

Keegan tries to shoot you a glare. He tries. One squeeze of your hand closing over his cockhead has him tensing up again, head tipping back and jaw clenching up as he bites back another groan.

You don’t say anything. You could tease him more (hell, you’d be jumping at the chance any other time), but right now he’s almost pitiful. Sore, exhausted, run-down and on a tight deadline to head back out tomorrow.

The man deserves a break. He doesn’t deserve to be mocked. So you keep your mouth shut (at least, in regards to taunting him) and you tease your thumb over his slit in slow little circles.

Keegan’s body shudders. From somewhere deep in his chest, he groans, brow knitting and eyes squeezing shut. His hips buck up; his cock slides through your grasp, swollen and slick. He’s aching for release, aching for it; it’s like his self-control has been put out to float on a raft and is just drifting towards total euphoric collapse. His head lolls on his neck; he’s in a daze, exhaustion and pleasure mixing like a dreamy cocktail in his system.

“I’ll get a nice bath ready for you after this assignment. Sound good?” You grin as you swish your thumb over his tip and he stiffens, body wound tight and eyes rolling back in his head. He doesn’t give you a verbal response; he just groans, one of his hands pawing uselessly at your waist. His big hands, gloved hands, rough and callous…

The throaty auh Keegan lets out brings your head back into reality, just in time to see his jaw drop and his pretty lips form a pink O as his eyes squint and his lashes flutter. His cock jerks in your hands, and a dribble of thin pre runs down the joints of your fingers. His hips buck up; under that thin layer of cotton, you feel his abdomen flex tight.

Apparently embarrassed at his own sound, Keegan turns his face towards you. Messily, he thrusts his lips at yours; when your body ripples and your hand flexes, he groans, low and tired into your mouth. His skin is hot; he’s flustered, but he’s too tired to do much about it.

“You gonna fall asleep on me after this?” You manage a quiet laugh. “No real rounds?”

Keegan groans. His voice, when it does manage to come out, is throaty and hoarse. There’s a sort of grumble in his voice, a sort of sleepy drawl that has your knees weak. “Shit, if you want…”

You giggle, biting your tongue when you skim the tips of your fingers over the ridge of his head and he tenses, teeth sinking into his lip. “I don’t think you can, Kee. I really don’t.”

“Shut it.” Though his tone is gruff, a tease of your finger over his leaking slit has Keegan’s head lolling back and his eyes, pretty pools of sapphire blue, roll back as his lashes flutter. “I’ll just lay there. You…nngh…you can just get on top an’…”

Keegan’s body shudders. His shoulders lift off the back of the chair; there’s a tremor deep in his belly that you can feel under your hand as he slumps back again, stomach rolling forward and hips rolling up. His abdomen clenches and sucks in so hard you can see the outline of his abs through his shirt, despite the loose fit.

Close.

You’ve learned his bodily cues by now. He tenses, starts to breathe hard — you can hear air rasping in and out of his nose — and, yeah, he paws around until he can grab onto your wrist, fingers wrapping around the spot right under your hand. He’s funny like that; you wouldn’t catch him dead pitying himself, telling you he was nothing but your little play-thing — but god, the quiver in his hand and the tremor in his breath is so, so far away from dominant. It’s so far away from being in control. If anything, he’s feeling your control; he’s feeling your pulse pick up as you shift on his lap, he’s feeling your arm tense as you bite your lip and stroke quicker, faster, twist your hand, and — oh — he’s gripping tight as you swipe your hand at just the right angle, pull it flush against the base of his cock and pump up and —

The strangled cry that comes out of Keegan’s mouth is strained and loosely contained. His jaw snaps shut, his lips seal; his hips buck up, and there’s a soft scuffle as his feet shove against the ground and his socks give him no traction to hold on.

You see the corded muscle of his neck swell at the same time that you feel a ribbon of something hot and sticky squirt up your forearm.

Five times. Five times, Keegan’s hips jerk up; his head turns either way, and his eyes squeeze shut for the first two jolts. They start to open; they flutter, roll back. Close again for the third. The same goes for the fourth. The fifth, though, his eyes open when his hips twitch, and when you try to meet his gaze you look into bottomless blue hues lidded and vague with euphoria.

The blunt edges of his nails dig into your wrist right under a streak of cum. The stuff strings your arm and webs beneath it, threatening to drip onto his thighs. Not that he’d mind, probably. Not now, at least. He’s too weak and tired to really care. Too busy groaning, sound contained deep in his chest, body rippling as pleasure tides over him. Over…and over…and over.

“Feel better?” You prompt the question in a soft voice after a long moment of silence for him to recover. Not that he had any performance issues — just tired, like this, pushed flat-out for too long…he has this worn, beaten look on his face. Barely lifted after everything.

“Yeah.” Despite that, Keegan’s response comes quick; breathless, but quick. His eyes shift over to meet yours, and Christ, if he looked tired before…

“Kee.” The note of pity that leaks into your voice is entirely instinctual. When you lean forward, his breathing staggers; he sort of half-laughs when you run your thumb over his three-fourths lidded eyes, weakly turning away from the contact. “Don’t touch me right now.”

“Kee.” You repeat his name, more seriously this time. “Kee, you look like you’re gonna pass out.”

“I’m not.” Keegan shakes his head; as if to prove his point, he shifts a little in his seat, pulling himself slightly more upright.

“You look like it. You look so tired.” You lean forward, this time; it’s an effort to push his hair back, and one that he leans away from. “Keegan. Let me take care of you.”

In response, he only laughs. It’s a tired laugh, one that rasps in his chest, but it’s a laugh nonetheless. When he replies, his tone isn’t serious. “You’ve got it on your hands.”

so sorry for my absence. my cod hyperfixation chilled the fuck out a little whoopsie anyways

[newtonsheffield]

Edwina is having the time of her life isn’t she? She’s doing the family group chat version of live tweeting the whole game

Edwina needs to keep their mother updated on the situation of Kate clearly hardcore flirting with five time All-Star Anthony Bridgerton.

Anthony walked straight out onto the field this evening and pretended to look surprised to see Kate there, the new jersey he’d left for her worn open over her sweater.

“Kate?! Oh my god! I almost didn’t recognise you out of the pinstripes!”

Edwina’s eyes narrowed as she watched Kate get flustered, clearing her throat. “Yeah, they must have been having a sale!”

Anthony Bridgerton laughed, adjusting his cap. “Well, I need to get back in there. I’ve got a pretty girl coming to watch me tonight. I got a hair cut especially, did my eyeblack very neatly.”

“Do you?”

“I do.” Anthony grinned, “I’m wearing my very best glove today. I look very handsome, the boys have assured me.”

“Well, good luck.” Kate clicked her tongue, “Hopefully she’s very impressed.”

“We’ll see!” He jogged away, the thin chain around his neck bouncing with the movement.

“Holy Fuck.” Edwina hissed as he turned away, their entire section turning to stare at them. “You sly bitch.”

“Shut up.” Kate rolled her eyes. “He’s just a flirt. One drink’ll satisfy his curiosity.”

“I’m sure.”

“It will.” Kate shrugged, “Anthony Bridgerton is not going to date a 3rd grade team her whole life he met in a coffee shop.”

“Oh sure.” Edwina said. “It looks like he never wants to see you again.”

He winked in their direction as he pulled his glove on, walking towards the infield, caught by the cameras.

Edwina took out her phone, already texting their mother

KATE IS HAVING A DRINK WITH HIM LATER! HE’S PEACOCKING!

[hearts4chriss]

Eyeblack.

Lacrosse bf Chris x gf poc

prompt: chris’s senior night for lacrosse and he looks so good you give him a lil 😛

Part 5

warnings: praise, head, dirty talk, use of pet names ( baby, good girl, mama ) orgasms, hair pulling, dom! Chris

there he was.

My man

My boyfriend

Christopher Sturniolo

looking fine as ever, god the way that his eye black dripped down his face or how he’d throw his helmet on the field after every goal he’d score and blow me kisses.

Watching play lacrosse got me insanely wet, he was so aggressive and focused. His hair poking out the bottom of his helmet and how’d he spit on the field. Oh and don’t get me started on how he gave me and his mom flowers for his pictures with his family and the ones with us. How Chris’s hand firmly gripped my waist pulling me right next to him kissing my cheek.

God I couldn’t wait till this game was over.

Desperate for him, was the word we could use. The way I knew he’d force his cock down my throat until I couldn’t take it anymore, him pulling my hair moaning and breathing heavily as I sucked him off like the good girl I was, just for him.

Time passed and eventually the game was over 5-2 we won.

I was sitting with Chris’s parents. Acting like I wasn’t about to have their son’s dick in my mouth.

“Honey what’d you think of his performance?” Marylou nudged me playfully and I smiled

“I thought Chris played amazing im so proud of him.” I smiled looking down at him as he we began to walk down the stairs of the stadium.

“Hey baby!” Chris said excitedly running to pull me into a hug despite how sweaty he was he looked so fucking good.

“You did so good babe.” I giggled rubbing the eyeblack that fell to fix it again and he smirked.

“Yeah? Maybe you should reward me for my performance.” He whispers in my ear just below a whisper causing wetness to pool between my legs thinking of all the things he’d do to me.

Chris, Nick Matt his parents and I all get in their van and make our way to my house to drop me off

“Thank you guys for-“ I was cut off by Chris also hopping out the car

“You guys don’t mind if I spend my big win with my girl right?” He asks innocently

“their def gonna fuck.” Matt and nick chuckle under their breath causing me to blush and my legs squeeze together

His parents clueless shake their heads and begin to drive off and that’s when it was going down.

“Shall we?” Chris smirks and I shake my head beginning to walk up the stairs unlocking my door. Unexpected my parents aren’t home.

We walk up to my room and I turn around to close my door, before I could even catch my breath Chris pushes me against it connecting my plump lips with his.

Chris’s hands wandered my body feeling under the mini skirt I wore for him squeezing my ass making my jaw dropped allowing his tongue to slither its way into my mouth, moaning and groaning into each others mouths desperately.

“Fuck I need you get on ur knees.” his breath heavy and desperate tone in his words. I do as says and pull his shorts down his cock hitting me right in the face.

“Sorry mama.” He caressed my cheek

“It’s okay.” I say softly chuckling at how fucking hard he was

“You gonna suck me off like a good girl? praise me for win hm?” Chris teased and I nodded and he gripped my hair

“We use our words sweetheart.” He demanded

“Yes I am, like a good girl.” I winced and he softened his grip before forcing me to take all of his dick in my mouth making my eyes widen and tears immediately fill them from how big he is.

“Oh fuck- shitt- so fucking good-“ he moans, making sure not to pull my braids too tight but just enough to get a good grip to force my mouth taking all of him like it was nothing

I peak up at him through my lashes with innocent eyes and he throws his head and moans at the sight of me looking up at him like a innocent puppy

“Mmph- that’s a good girl sucking me so good-“ Chris sighs deeply nearly shuttering at my lips around his cock taking him so well as I wrap my hand around him running it up and down him as he made me take him

Chris was big, massive even, he knew I could only take so much as he winced feeling my fingers dig into his thighs he smirks and chuckled.

“Too much? You can take it mama all of it-“ Chris pulls my hair slightly tighter as my mascara is running down my cheeks and salvia on my chin dripping down onto his jersey that I was wearing as I reminder I was his girl.

I continued gagging on his dick, forcing myself to keep going knowing eventually I’d give out or he’d cum soon.

It wasn’t long after that I’d felt him twitch in my throat.

“Fuckk baby I’m gonna cum- all in ur pretty mouth-“ he groans and forced my head to take him all the way fully without moving before feeling him release his thick load into my mouth some of it spilling onto onto my lips.

He breaths heavily before looking down at me kneeling down to my level.

“You okay?” He asks softly and slightly concerned before wiping off my tears with a towel.

“Yeah just- shit that was something-“ I chuckle tiredly.

“I know, ur so good to me baby.” He kisses my cheek and I smile

“Always baby, always.” I say smiling

taglist

@mattsleftnipple03 @bernardsleftbootycheek @sturniolopowers @gdsvhtwa @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @alexoslurr @worldlxvlys @chrisslut25 @princessbetsy123-blog @mattslolita @guccifrog @blahbel668 @mattsneezing @trickywritters @hearts4chris

@nonamegirlxsturniolo @luvmxtt @theyluv-meee @mattsnymphette @hoesformatt @luv4kozume @st7rnioioss @kikisturnioloo @itzdarling @pepsiimaxx

[red-velvet-muffin]

Insomniac!reader and Simon helping them get some sleep 🌙

(Sfw)

CW: tbh none, purely Simon being an awkward sweetheart

Another sleepless night. You had been laying in your bed for the past four hours, uncomfortably tossing and turning. You even tried asmr but nothing could get you to sleep.

It’s not like you weren’t tired, quite the opposite actually, but you just could not for the love of god fall asleep.

You couldn’t get an hour of sleep that night which, in turn, had a big impact on your mood on base the next day.

You were short tempered, which was unusual, and everyone noticed. Everyone kept their distance that day, being mindful and more so scared of your short fuse.

Well, everyone expect Ghost, of course.

Despite his usual brooding and sassy attire he seemed a bit concerned, casting you glances from behind his skull mask when you seemed to be ready to curse a recruits bloodline for running into you or when you yawned so much he thought your jaw might lock.

Being in a different time zone for deployment seemed to really fuck with you.

When the team finally got to wind down in the evening, you were about ready to dissolve into dust. You were laying flat on the couch in the little “living room” that belonged to the 141’s current assigned base, finally out of uniform and just staring at the ceiling with tired eyes, still not being able to find any rest despite the exhaustion of the day.

You were so lost in your head that you didn’t notice Simon leaning in the doorway, observing your pitiful state with a blank expression from what could be seen from behind his basic black balaclava, some eyeblack still smudged under his lashes.

He just leaned there with crossed arms for a moment before pulling himself together and walking up to the sofa.

Seeing you in your state the whole day had made him look up what could help you rest and found that weight and physical closeness could help relax someone.

Blunt as Simon was, he sat down next to you on the couch and just grabbed you by the shoulders and pulled you into him, holding you tightly against him and gently pushing your head into the section where his shoulder meets his neck to lay your head on.

Simon’s sudden action made you almost jump before realising it was him.

What the fuck was he doing??

You were about to protest before feeling your body physically melt in his arms. Why did he feel so… safe?

You couldn’t even give much thought to it as your eyes slowly shut against your intent and you were knocked the fuck out.

You didn’t know how much later you woke up. You were laying on the couch, head gently placed on a pillow and a thin blanket pulled up to your shoulders.

You could swear you remembered Simon holding you until you fell asleep but if you ask him, no you didn’t

(Not projecting at all 🌝 this isn’t really proofread and just another random scenario because I can)

[squidsquadlove]

Well, I for one feel I have seen the VERY MOST IMPORTANT part of the Mic'd Up Winter Classic 2024 video, which is of course:

Chris Driedger in a toque... and eyeblack... and tiny little athletic boxer briefs... and that's all...

(I know I once said "let the man wear toques" and I still stand by it! I did not know I was saying "and nothing else" BUT I STAND BY THAT ALSO)

And for you Dumo enjoyers out there, a bonus for you:

I thought only Draisaitl was capable of manspreading like this, but where there's a will (and a large equipment bag) apparently there's a way!

(Note: New Winter Classic equipment bags! GOD they're nice...)

[justaboot]

“He’s the smartest and most powerful” noooo!!! That’s literally the point! “Dellas a hypocrite,” noo! Literally the point! They work out their “Help each other see the angles,” thing which first, cute af, but BECAUSE THEYRE TOO SIMILAR. They KNOW themselves, and more importantly they come head to head because they both acknowledge -out loud, what no one else would touch with a ten foot pole - that they can see each other’s faults, so they agree to line them up back to back so there’s no gaps in the line and are a TEAM.

I saw a very funny comment on some YouTube video a month or two ago and just thought it was worth sharing with the Della fans

I think the video was for some Della and Louie clips or something like that but there was a comment on that video that legit made me laugh when I first saw it

Basically the person commented along the lines of “Could you guys imagine if the Hunger Games happened in Duckburg and Louie was the only one who knew the situation was bad and knew how to stop it with a scheme but Della tells him ‘No schemes’” and there was some other stuff but I can’t remember and don’t feel like looking it up

But man. What is the deal with these Timephoon! haters and making up scenarios to prove their point? And how is it that Louie is the only one who is against a Hunger Games from happening? I’m pretty sure everyone in the Duck family would be against a lottery that randomly picks kids for a death match to happen. Also what could possibly be the scheme to stop this from happening? And why is it happening? Is it just happening in Duckburg?

Also one thing I can’t help but notice about people who hate Timephoon! is that they like to paint Louie in two different ways:

1. He’s the smartest and the most powerful member of the family and could defeat everyone if he wanted to

And

2. Come on guys he’s just a kid he doesn’t know any better go easy on him

Timephoon! discourse is annoying because it’s not just Della these people are misunderstanding but also Louie

I don’t know. I saw the comment and remembered that the person who uploaded the video liked the comment themselves and just thought it was too funny

[ghostsbimbo]

Labour - Simon Ghost Riley x OC

A/N: This is extremely short because it's actually a story - specifically flash fiction unit - for my Creative Writing class. I haven't even done anything with this OC that much tbh. I just decided to write fanfic for this thing. Painfully obvious that it's inspired by Labour by Paris Paloma. Word count: 752. Angst to Fluff. Limited on word count for what it is [ could only go up to 750 ] so it's not the best.

Maisie let out a soft huff, closing her eyes. She flexed her fingers before gripping the edge of the sink, taking a deep breath as she tried to relax. She knew something like this was going to happen. It always did when he returned from deployment. She turned around, looking up at him as she did. The 6’4” man in the skull mask should’ve scared her, should’ve made her tremble in fear especially with all his tactical gear and being covered in head to toe, but after working with him for years and dating for only three with a child, she wasn’t phased by his persona anymore. She was quite sick of it really - how he hid behind the tough guy exterior and more walls than a castle to keep people out. 

She wanted out of the relationship. She should’ve listened to everyone’s warnings prior to getting in a relationship. She should’ve listened to her brother when he told her it was a bad idea to get involved, but here she was years later, retired from being a medic for the task force and living in Manchester. She dried her hands with the kitchen rag before shoving past him, even though she knew he’d just grab at her, stopping her from leaving his presence. 

As if she called it, his gloved hand reached out and grabbed her shoulder, turning her around. 

“Don’t leave when I’m talking to you.” He demanded, looking down at his smaller partner. She quickly tore herself from his grip. She couldn’t believe the audacity he had, but considering he was used to people bending to his every whim and being afraid of his size, she understood why. “Don’t be an asshole every time you come home from deployments or whatever fuckin else the task force has you do now.” She stated bluntly, glaring up at him as she did so. Simon immediately rolled his eyes, removing his mask, his eyes being covered in the god forsaken eyeblack he always wore under his mask. He tossed his mask onto the counter, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Maybe if you weren’t so lazy while I was gone I wouldn’t be.” Simon stated bluntly. Maisie immediately looked up at him, and he was sure if looks would kill, he’d most likely be dead in that moment. It was safe for him to assume he fucked up. 

“Lazy? I’m Lazy?” Maisie questioned, before chuckling darkly. “I’m raising our daughter, Simon, and with that, every time you come home, you get to come home to a spotless house, hot meal, and whatever fuckin’ else!” She yelled. “You come home to me, ready to bandage you up and wait on you hand and foot, but god forbid I don’t wanna have sex with you as soon as you get home though.” She walked past him, hoping he wouldn’t follow. Of course, the thud of the man’s boots are quick to follow after her. God she was thankful her daughter was at a friend’s house. 

“Honestly, I’m your therapist, maid, a baby factory even though I can’t get pregnant, nurse, servant..You name it Simon Riley and all those roles are filled by me, including taking on a fatherly role for our daughter because you’re never here like you promised you be.” Maisie stated, venom dripping from each word.  She couldn’t hold it in anymore, she had been keeping it bottled up with the exception of her weekly therapy appointments. Thankfully, her therapist was a saint who helped her build up this courage to talk back to him. 

Simon just glared at her. He wasn’t used to her snapping at him, or really standing up for herself against him. Usually, she was pliant. He easily molded her into what he wanted in a spouse, despite the fact that he was barely home to even benefit from all the work he put into making her what he wanted. Sure, they didn’t start out that way, but the little ideas in his head had fully bloomed to turn him into an even shittier man than he already was, and it was too late to change that - he knew he’ll probably just get more shitty anyways. 

Simon let out a soft huff, running a hand through his hair. He wasn’t one to express his emotions much, but this certainly made him realize he had to stop being emotionally constipated all the time. “Let's talk about this, yeah?” He questioned.

“Fine” Maisie agreed, knowing she would regret this.

[malleusthehammer]

Humanity and Gods playing baseball!

Tee hee i got this in a dream :3 anyways this is just gonna be a silly little thing with my more favorited Gods/Humans just cuz :3 Hope u enjoy!! (i’m sorry if some of these r ooc -~-‘) Also it’s divided by yk humanity vs gods so yeah. Also if you enjoy this, my requests are open!!

Jack the Ripper

This gentleman is very hesitant going up to bat. I’m telling you. Bro is SHAKING in his boots but won’t say anything.

Def closes his eyes when he swings. like GGGGGSGSGGAGS

This mf IS FAST AS HELL THO.

Won’t Can’t slide for shit

More than likely right or left field. He’s fast and quick on his feet so he seems like a good outfielder.

Please tell him to keep his cap on. AND DONT LET HIM PUT IT BACKWARDS.. i love this man to death but he has A HUGE forehead (god bless ~<~)

Okay let’s say he doesn’t wanna play- he bat boy ong. He be getting those bats.

BEST TEAMMATE EVER

he is the best comforter when u get down on urself for striking out or missing a ball (me)

this dudes number is 18- idk why he just seems like an 18 guy

in other words this man has my heart.

Buddha

Mf chill as hell. Bro will be slacking but yet be an amazing player like HUH?!

Wears his cap backwards 100% so that like one strand of hair is out like always

Bro is always sneaking candy and the blue calls him out on it.

2nd or shortstop. Since he can see how the batter is gonna swing he can already predict where it’s gonna go so he’s like on his feet all the time

Bro hits the ball and just watches it before taking his time walking the bases (i mean technically you can do that)

He looks HELLA GOOD in a baseball uniform

mfs number is probably 69..

LAUGHS SO HARD when someone messes up

overall he’s just a hell of a good player like dayumn !!

Kojiro Sasaki

lowkey a good player

bros title is literally “Worlds biggest loser” So he swings at everything. I mean ik he’s can predict battles or whatever but i’d feel he’d have a harder time predicting pitches

He’s and old man. that kinda speaks for itself. so he kinda slow/pos

First base man. he’s tall- flexible and yeah- 1st base bro

HE STICKS HIS PONYTAIL THROUGH THE BACK OF HIS BASEBALL CAP ITS SO CUTE

THAT OR HE BRAIDS HIS HAIR OMGG

this man LOVES sunflower seeds like absolutely (who wouldn’t?! Buddha..)

slaps people on the back REALLY hard when telling them good job

Hates cleats. just hates them for no reason

Very confused on how to swing a bat but gets it in like 2 tries

THIS MAN CAN SLIIIIDDEEEE

if he isn’t playing 1st- he’s probably centerfield :3

DEADASS HE’LL LET YOU DO HIS EYEBLACKK!!

bros number is like in the 70s. more than likely 72 idk it just feels right lmao

sometimes wears his jersey open? like not buttoned >:3

I LOVE SASAKI SM HES AWHEHEGSFSG

Qin Shi Huang

Bro is the pitcher. nothin else.

still wears his blindfold on the mound obvi :3

BRO HAS AN ARM.

can slide decently

Hella fast like Jack.

Clean up batter? yk he be hittin it then just bringing all the ppl on base in

He’ll strike someone out then be like “Hao!!”

Slaps people on the back like Sasaki

my man is just and overall vibe so like mmhmm

The teams biggest cheer leader

I’m feeling like.. 59?

Dude he thinks he looks so good in the uniform and he does

sometimes since yk “The road is where i lead” he just starts walking around the bases randomly.

random as hell but he has like really sweaty hands

PLEASE PLEASE DO THIS MANS EYEBLACK. PLEASE.

just overall a silly little goose :3

Nikolai Tesla

THIS MAN IS GOING TO WALK UP TO TJE PLATE AND TRY AND EXPLAIN HOW THE FUCKING VELOCITY AND SPEED OF A BAT WORK.

totally not a sucky hitter..

3rd base- he’s quick quitted and 3rd doesn’t call for too much movement

his glove has those damn tesla coils n shit

bro spent ages like making his own glove and shit

THIS MAN. THIS MAN LOOKS SO FINE IN UNIFORM.

Jogs around the bases.

I’m feeling like.. 47 for his number

Dude will be pondering on second base when he’s running, thinking of anything BUT baseball at that time sooo

Dude would be AMAZED at pitches

someone would be like “SWING TESLA” and he just does the thing where he tuts them and shakes his finger and goes “No, non, nem, nein..”

He’s just.. a lot to handle.

Don’t ever take him to a baseball game. he’d get hella bored and just leave.

His hair is like- LUCIOUS in the sunlight

dude can not stay still in the dugout he’s always pacing

Yeaahh that’s it :3 i’ll probably do a Gods version later but my asks are open! so feel free to ask abouttt rn im mainly doing RoR but i’ll dip my toes into somethin new soon!!

[lunarw0rks]

Ghost bleaches his hair??

apparently! i swear to god im not imagining that article LMAO

he's more brunette in the comics, but obviously sam's ghost (2023) is blond -- so i think it just depends on what ghost you think is his canon look !!

it does make sense for him to bleach it ig, even if he's naturally blond, it probably makes putting on his eyeblack easier

[soyouwinagain]

tumblr ate the original ask for some reason but thank god I took a screenshot.

yes, anon, you read my mind. I'm thinking about little else...... they're just! so! nice! and fun!!!!!! (and gross) (and dumb) (everything I like)

I've been lovingly staring at this message for a couple weeks now and originally I meant to reply with a ficlet cause I sure have thoughts burning in my brain but then tumblr ate the message and I was mad and then I was travelling for 2 weeks straight and also I need to read minimum 10 more books before the end of July???? so uh. patience. but it's coming. I have thoughts. very very concrete thoughts. there's a word document and a notes app note and a google doc too. a wikihow tab on eyeblack open in my browser. yeah.

in the meantime I'm looking at the prompts being submitted to the prompt meme and scheming

[kingfishered]

Johnny absolutely was calling Simon beautiful, with his broken nose, smudged eyeblack, and still sweaty hair. As well as with his bloodied shirt and his stupid masks, his shitty tattoo, that really unhealthy hair, his less than ideal personal hygiene habits. Everything. He was still, somehow, the most beautiful person Johnny had ever laid eyes on. He could have been rolling around in shit and Johnny would still find him beautiful.

He was brought out of his musings when Simon nudged him, already off towards an air vent to sit down. Johnny followed, sitting down with his own sigh and stretching his legs out in front of him, then leaned back on his hands as he looked over at Simon to watch him rolling a surprisingly neat cigarette.

There was something very attractive about watching a man roll a cigarette, especially when you knew it was for you. The delicate movements, the dexterity, the little lick to stick it down. Johnny was just as mesmerised watching the process of that as Simon had been looking up at the stars. And to think he’d been convinced he couldn’t be anymore attracted to this man.

“Definitely have,” Johnny huffed a laugh, not proud to admit some of the unpleasant things he’d put up with in order to get some nicotine in him. Sometimes, when you were out in the shit, you’d take whatever you could get. He took the smoke when it was offered, waiting and watching Simon roll the second. He took noticeably less care this time, and Johnny wondered if maybe he was just getting impatient. Still, though, he got to watch the way Simon rubbed the cigarette along his lip, his small pre-smoking ritual. Maybe, if he convinced Simon he couldn’t roll, he could watch this more often. Get him to roll for him.

Letting out another chuckle as Simon admitted to having forgotten a very important part of this, he felt through his own pockets. And honestly, thank God he had one, because he could not be bothered to head back inside after all this and he certainly wasn’t going to make Simon do so either.

“Here,” he said, flicking the lighter on and holding out the flame for Simon to lean into and light his smoke. Once his was lit he moved to do the same to his own, sticking it between his lips and taking a deep drag once it had caught.

“Thought ye didn’t like menthols,” Johnny pointed out, reminded by the pleasantly minty taste to his cigarette that he had seen Simon grabbing that pack of papers from his bag back in his room. “Ye make fun of me enough for smokin’ ‘em.”

From where Simon was beside him, it didn’t sound like he was looking at the sky, too. But, it wasn’t exactly like there was much else to look at around them, being as dark as it was. Unless..?

No. He wouldn’t even let that thought come to full fruition, let alone actually voice it. It was ridiculous that he even considered Johnny could be calling him beautiful, with his broken nose, smudged eyeblack, and still sweaty hair.

He was ridiculous.

Instead of risking a look at Johnny to see what he was looking at, Simon nudged him with his elbow, a silent signal to follow him, before slowly making his way across the roof to sit down against a big, unused air vent. He let out a quiet groan as he sat down, relaxing his aching body once again before he tugged the items out of his pocket to start rolling the cigarettes. Quickly, he decided that he’d do Johnny’s one first.

Before Soap had even sat down, Simon had retrieved a menthol paper for him and filled it with some loose tobacco leaves. He heard the soft thud as Johnny rested beside him, and he carefully rolled the handmade cigarette into a neat little cylinder. He raised it to his mouth, gently licking along the edge of the paper before sticking it down to itself, pinching either end of the cigarette to keep the leaves in

“Make do without a filter, ey?” he mumbled, offering the meticulously rolled smoke out to him with an eyebrow raise and a grin, acting as if he hadn’t made every possible effort to make Johnny’s as pretty and neat as he could. “Probably had worse.”

Then, he got to work on rolling his own. He made much less effort with his one, realising quite quickly that he did, in fact, want to impress Johnny with one of many skills that he had picked up when he was younger. That… sounded worse than he meant for it to, actually.

Considering he pretty much threw his own one together in seconds, it wasn’t long before he put the cigarette into his mouth, gently rubbing the end along his lips so it didn’t stick to them before he began to pat his pockets down.

His brow furrowed deeply and he let out a small groan around the paper. “Bloody hell…” He looked up at Johnny, almost a tinge of embarrassment in his expression over the fact that he invited him up to smoke, and proceeded to forget a vital part of that equation. “Got a lighter on you, by any chance?” he asked, voice low and rumbly as he managed to keep the cigarette in his mouth the whole time he was speaking. “Left mine in th’room.”

[matthewtkafuck]

[poppy-metal]

so football season is back in the us and my mind is just full of football player steve. jersey tucked under pads so it’s cropped, super messy eyeblack that he won’t let anyone touch because you put it on.

he blows you kisses after each point he scores, and tackles you with a hug after the game!! sometimes the hugs are long and clingy if they lost, and if they win, he’s lifting you up onto his shoulders and bouncing around happily. he’s so sweaty but you couldn’t care less. like imagine!!! steve teaching you how to properly throw, fake tackling you at any oppurtunity, kissing you on the field after games. athlete steve is just something so personal to me 💕

and the post-win sex is definitely 10/10. like, “you looked so pretty up in those stands, cheering for me. yknow what i was thinking about, when i saw you?” you can barely respond, syllables choked out because he’s fucking you so hard, your hands pinned above your head. “thought about this.” he’s smiling a lil as you moan, “thought about how you look even prettier than that when you cum.”

- 🎀

steve wearing a. a, um. a. him wearing. a jockstrap.....gripping his ass to pull him forward so he'll choke you on his cock immediately after he wins a game because you're so wet between the legs and you dont care about the musk or the sweat you just want him filling your mouth because he looked like a fucking god out there on the field and you wanna worship him.

[soulwillower]

heat waves • stanley uris

(stanley uris x reader smut)  

requested: stanley uris fic where he plays baseball and she plays softball please? best friends to lovers if you can! (bonus for borrowing each other's clothes) 

warnings: softball player! reader, swearing, smut at the end sorry, oral (male receiving), fluff mostly though, i promise, unedited as fuck i wrote this all in the last few hours LOL

i hope u dont mind i added smut at the end

(this was inspired partly by the song heat waves by glass animals but just a bit idk) 

[losers + reader are 18+.]

3.2k words i think

♡

it was hot.

in fact it was boiling fucking hot, in stan's opinion, and despite loving nearly everything about summer, the heat was the absolute worst of those characteristics by far. 

he sighs as he flies down the backroads, away from the baseball fields and towards his house. he's pushing his curls back from his face and groaning as he feels sweat beads on his forehead, his eyes catching the dying sunlight and making him itch to wash his hands.

it's june, and there's a deep heatwave that hit derry that's caused all the a/c units at the store richie works at to disappear from the shelves, the public pool that bill and eddie work at the become overcrowded with kids and families escaping the heat, and the baseball fields to be extremely blistering as mike, stan, and you had to stand under the sun all day the last two days.

his lips twitch up faintly at the thought of earlier today, when he'd had a ten minute break and had ran over in his spikes with mike to catch an inning of the softball game on the fields adjacent to theirs. 

the only reason they'd gone was to see you play, of course - and to your embarrassment, they'd caught right when you'd stepped to the plate and had hollered "yeah, baby! y/n/n!" loud enough to make everybody in the stands' head turn and embarrassing enough to make you giggle as you waited for the pitch. 

you'd hit a double then, which had also scored in two runs and stan had seen your smile as you stood out at second base, breathing hard and brushing the dirt off your pants. and when he'd waved to you, you waved back with so much pride and excitement that he'd felt his heart skip a beat.

he smiles to himself as he turns the corner into his neighborhood, squinting slightly as the air moves in squiggles feet above the pavement. he swears with a shake of his head - he fucking hates the heat, but the double edged sword of baseball season in the summer makes it worth it. 

his phone buzzes from where it's placed in his cup holder and he grabs it, smiling at the y/n y/l/n !!!!! that pops up at the top. he rolls his eyes as he answers, remembering the time when you'd called him a psychopath for having your full name in his phone contact, claiming you knew for a fact he somehow didn't know any other y/n's, so you’d added the exclamation points ‘just for flare.’ 

he answers, "hey, how was the last game?" he asks as he pulls into his driveway. "we lost." you grumble and he hums as he pulls himself out of the car, leaving his bat bag in the trunk since he's got practice tomorrow. "i'm sorry to hear that. d'you want to come over?" he asks casually as he makes his way inside and sighs at the relief of the air conditioning. "yes, yeah. i do." you say and stan smiles down to the ground at your goofiness. as he enters the kitchen he realizes his parents are out, so he asks, "can you bring food?"

you sigh and he can imagine your grin as you say, "god, the shit i do for you, uris. why can't we go together?" you whine. he snorts, "but i have to shower." he tries to reason, but you retort, "i just spend thirteen hours in the heat too, stan, i need to shower as well."

he smiles, walking up the stairs towards his room. "alright, alright. we can go together, just come over and you can shower here."

"did i mention i love you?" you sigh, almost dreamily. stan stops in his tracks, heart stopping and mouth going dry but still grinning as he hears his name yelled by a voice in the background of your line and you hiss back a muffled, "shut up!"

his face is red as he mutters, "yeah, yeah. love you too, y/n/n. i'll see you soon."

your voice echoes in his head as he stares at the tiles of his shower the entire time he's showering. did i mention i love you? as the ice cold water cascades over his sore muscles, relaxing him and breathing energy back into his tired body, he can't get you out of his head. 

your voice, your hair, the way you have so much confidence on the field and yet are the sweetest and funniest person he's every met. as his mind wanders, he thanks god that his shower is freezing and he groans, trying to stop imagining his best friend while he's in the shower.

did i mention i love you?

he steps out soon after that, feeling like a bit of a creep. as he ruffles his towel-dry hair, he hears his front door open. opening the door to the bathroom, he's suddenly facing you, clad in your dirty uniform, your visor still on your head and a tired but happy smile on your face. "where's donny and andrea?" you ask and stan shrugs, chuckling a bit at your dumb nickname for his father, "think they had some meeting and went out after." he's not really focused though, because he's aware that he is standing with only a red towel hanging low on his hips as you stand in front of him, your cheeks red and eyes wide, bouncing around him and avoiding eye contact, flustered as you clear your throat.

did i mention i love you?

he grabs his dirty uniform to sweep into the laundry and gets you a fresh towel, gathering clothes for you to change into before residing to his own bedroom. the shower turns on right as he pulls on his shirt and flops back onto his mattress.

he can't get you off his mind, which isn't necessarily a new development, but ever since the heat wave, his mind has been stuck in a loop that's never ending. y/n, baseball, y/n, baseball, y/n, y/n, y/n....

did i mention i love you?

it's hot in his room and he stares at the patterns in his ceiling, lifting a brow as the spots morph in and out of shapes and suddenly it's back to you, your angelic face in his vision and he almost groans. he loves you way too much, he thinks. 

he knows every single feature about you; enough so that your face, beautiful and clear as always, appears in his vision and he's fucked because he knows he’s still be able to remember where every feature, mark or blemish on your face is, even when you're not with him.

even though he knows that your relationship is just platonic, he still finds himself imagining his lips exploring the expanse of your neck and he yearns to touch every part of you, to be touched by you. he can't get you out of his mind.

the shower shuts off so he sits up and rubs his eyes - the danger and power the you have over him almost makes him laugh, especially because if you knew half the things he thought about you, you'd probably kill him.

he's smiling dumbly, thinking about the time you and bill got caught sneaking onto the derry golf course and made richie and stan pick you two up, right as you pad into his room.

"i look like a dumbass, stan!" you groan, lifting your arms as you spin a bit, and he almost dies. he has to shake his head to avoid you seeing his blush because you're standing in front of him, wearing his baseball team practice shirt that has his last name on it and his gym shorts, cinched at the waist to keep them on you and neither things fit you very well but he thinks he's going to lose it because his heart feels so warm. 

your hair is wet and making the shirt totally wet where the ends of the strands touch, your skin bright from washing off the eyeblack you'd worn all day. he's so lost in the image of you that you have to repeat yourself.

"stan! stop looking at me, oh my god i want to die." you shove your face into your hands and laugh. he shakes his head rid of his stupor and stands from his bed, laying a hand on your shoulder. "you look incredible right now, y/n. let's go, i'm hungry."

he grabs the hoodie he'd insisted you order for him early last year - with your club team's logo on it and a big, white #2 and your last name on the back. he knows it's too hot to actually wear it, but he's going to take it because you always get cold under his car's a/c.

he's not always the best at approaching you in a way that is comforting, but you beam at him as you follow him out towards his car. you're both walking slowly through the hot nighttime air, half because the air is so thick it feels like you're wading, but half from the exhausting day you'd both had. 

every muscle in stan's body aches as he pulls himself into the driver's seat, making sure everything was straight and in place. he doesn't even blush when he turns the key twice before starting the ignition, knowing that you don't mind and even show affection towards his compulsions after all this time. his heart thumps at the thought.

"where to?" you yawn as you ask and he can feel your eyes on him as he's leaning back, backing his car out of the driveway. he flushes once again under your beautiful gaze.

stan then finds himself in the back of his trunk at the quarry, the windows still up because you insisted it'd be too hot with the door open. he'd listened to you because you're you - but if it had been bill, or eddie, or ben, or mike or bev or especially richie he would have groaned and complained about how bad it was for his battery to keep the a/c running.

but it was you, so he did it with a smile on his face and a thump in his heart. you're sitting with your knees touching, stomachs full of fries, burgers, and vanilla milkshakes.

you're still working on your milkshake, spooning it into your mouth slowly as you tell stan a story about your day. "-and she slid under the tag - no, don't look at me like that, she was under it! - and the fucking ump called her out." you grumble, glaring into your milkshake. stan just grins, taking in your natural hair and how it's framing your face, the way your legs gleam in the moonlight and showcase the random bruises you have from taking pitches to the legs.

he forgets to respond and you look up at him, lifting a brow. "oh, yeah, i got a few bruises." you mutter, examining your leg yourself. you perk up, "look at this one! it's got stitch marks!" you say enthusiastically, pulling your bare thigh up so it's across stan's lap, scooting closer to him. he gulps, the proximity of you to him making it hard to focus as you run your fingers over the skin.

"shit." he mutters, hingers falling to touch the purple skin that was blossoming in a faint circle, red and purple stitch marks from the softball etching their way onto your skin. "that must've stung." he adds, eyes glued to your bare leg. you hum in agreement and suddenly your eyes are meeting his and he can't breathe at all.

you're closer than he'd expected as you straighten up, leg falling flat against his lap as you stare deep into each other's eyes. yours are swimming with wonder as you watch him, and he almost jumps when your hand lands on his shoulder. "what're you thinking? you're in your head a lot tonight, stan." you say gently, with all the care in the world and he doesn't really feel the usual twinge of guilt he feels for being more reserved than usual - instead he just feels like he may explode if he doesn't just tell you.

"y/n." he says it so quietly that all he can hear is the first part of your name. "uh-i... uh, maybe it's the heat wave, but..." he shakes his head, knowing that excuse with not work. you're too smart to believe a fib that simple. he sighs.

"no. no, i just- sometimes all that i think about is you." he says, his hand falling to rub over your bare thigh. he feels your muscles tense under his palm and he searches your eyes, his stomach tying itself into knots of anxiety as he waits patiently.

"what-what do you mean?" you ask softly, eyes flickering between his and he bites his lips, looking out to the quarry quickly before looking at you. he thinks about the days you've spent together with the others down at the water, all the drunken nights where you find your way to the clubhouse you'd all built in middle school.

he thinks about how you always, always make it to his games when you're not also playing; how you always sit at the far top right of the bleachers and scream his name loud enough that he can hear you even when he's way out in center field, how you always wear his away uniform jersey and give it back to him with a hug after the games. he thinks about all the hours the two of you have spent together at derry's batting cages, competitively keeping tallies of how many line drives you can each hit.

"stan?" you ask again softly, biting your lip. "i think about you too." you tell him, and he shakes his head, knowing that you aren't totally understanding him (but that's definitely not your fault).

"i think i love you."

he says it louder than intended, and it slices through the midnight air in a way that makes the world stagnant. he swears, even the frogs stop croaking, the cicadas stop buzzing, the wind stops blowing through the leaves in the forest.

"like... like you love me?" you ask, your leg still across his lap, hand still on his shoulder reassuring him that you at least weren't completely disgusted by his admission.

"like i'm in love with you." he reiterates, looking straight into your apprehensive eyes as he says it. it takes barely a split second before you're smiling at him in a grin that knocks the wind right out of stan's chest again. 

"what made you decide that?" you ask with a huge, breathtakingly sweet smile as your hands slide to hold his neck. he huffs a laugh, unsure still, "dunno. lots of things - everything about you, really." he mumbles, feeling slightly stupid but still incredibly giddy as you lean closer.

"well i'm in love with you, stan." you say, lips ghosting over his. he grins, the feeling of you so close to him making his fingers tingle as one hand stays on your thigh, the other falling to your hip.

he can't speak, so instead he closes the gap. your lips are warm against him - your whole body is - as you come to life, kissing him like you've been doing it your whole life. you whimper lightly and it makes him sigh with pleasure, tilting his head to deepen the kiss, tasting the vanilla of your milkshake on your tongue.

slowly, you slide onto his lap and his hands move up your back, pulling you impossibly closer to him, his tongue swiping against your plush lips. you're straddling him, cupping his jaw with both hands as you accept his tongue, yours caressing his sweetly and he wonders why you haven't been doing this your whole life.

he pushes against you, pulling you closer to him as you pull back for breath. "i've wanted to do that for so long." you mutter lowly as his lips immediately attach to the soft expanse of your skin, his fingers tickling down your bare thighs. he grins as he feels goosebumps form under his palms, biting down and sucking the soft skin on your throat, eliciting a moan from you. 

he pulls back a bit, "me too." he says, lips peppering kisses all the way up to your lips and catching them again, your hand sliding into his har and tugging on the strands.

you slowly grind against him and he groans at the feeling of you around him, the pleasure making his mind fuzzy as all he can think about it you. 

and then he’s dying because you’re trailing a hand down to palm him through his pants and all he can do is groan a bit against your chest and look at you because holy shit.

 you slide off his lap and down on to your knees in the small space between his legs, watching him with those beautiful doe eyes as you slide down his shorts slowly. 

he’s watching, lip caught between his teeth as you pull him free from where he strains against his boxers, licking your lips and pumping his base a few times. he grunts as your hand moves, the feeling making him twitch in pleasure. his cock is dripping precum and you slowly reach your tongue out, swirling around his tip. he lets out a dejected moan and grips your shoulders as you slowly take him into your mouth, wet and warm and perfect.”good girl.” he mutters quietly through his bliss and he notices how you flush under the praise, your tongue flattening as you take him further in. 

 as you bob your head down and try to take as much of him as you can, you look up through your lashes to watch him, the eye contact making his legs weak.

 his lips are parted, watching as you suck him off as his hips twitch, hands playing with your hair through his pleasure. "fuck, y/n..." he moans as you start to bob your head quicker, lifting one of your hands to grab his own. he lets you guide his hand to the back of your head and you gently put pressure on it.

he thinks he might faint as he realizes what you want. slowly, he pushes you further down on his cock and he gasps at the tight feeling of you gagging around him. 

 he groans, “you like that, hm?” quietly as you whimper around his cock, the vibrations nearing him to his high. “holy shit.” he mutters to himself as he moves your head, the lewd noises of his cock in your mouth and his moans filling up the car. 

you take him as far into your mouth as you can and he feels you try to relax as he gently pushes you further down on his cock until he hits the back of your throat. you moan, the vibrations pushing him to the edge as his hips buck up slightly.

you choke and pull off of him, catching your breath as you make eye contact, “being so good for me.” he mutters, his eyes glazed over as he watches you pump him. you smile, cheeks pink from the praise and he almost swoons with how fucking perfect you look. 

he lets out a low moan at your warm mouth taking him in, bobbing up and down. his hands push you down onto him again and he holds you there while he gently thrusts up, your hands on his thighs. he tilts his head back, eyes squeezing shut in pure bliss. 

its only a few seconds and he barely gets out a, "fuck, y/n, i'm gonna-" before he's spilling into your mouth. to his surprise, you moan around him and slowly lick him up and swallow, looking up at him with a tired smile.

“holy shit.” he says yet again, staring at you as you pull his shorts back up and bite your lip. he pulls you into a kiss and he can taste himself on your lips, making his stomach flip. 

"date me." he says quickly as he pulls back, his cheeks flushed from the taste of you on his tongue and the post-orgasmic bliss. you pull back, grinning. "well you don't have to be so polite about it." your voice sounds fucked-out and kind of raw and he’s certainly a dead man. 

he chuckles, rolling his eyes at your sarcastic tone. he loves you so fucking much.  "fine. y/n, please be my girlfriend. i want to be your boyfriend, i want us to date. please, will you go out with me?" his voice is dead-pan, but he's serious about it, and you can tell by his boyish grin.

you laugh, shaking your head. "god, was that so hard?" you ask, your hands rubbing over his chest, where his muscles tense in soreness. he then realizes you're still straddling him and how fucking sore you must be. he pulls you closer.

and then you pull him in for another kiss, both of your teeth clashing slightly from your grins. you didn't even explicitly say yes, stan wants to say, but instead he mutters, "did i mention i love you?"

you smile, cheeks red. “you might have mentioned it.” you say bashfully. he grins, kissing your cheek sweetly, hand running up your thigh slowly. “can i taste you, babylove?” he mumbles against your skin and he feels you shiver as you let out a quiet moan. 

you grin, kissing him on the lips, “why dont we go back to your place...can i stay the night?” you ask, cheeks aflame as you look at him. “i want to take our time.” you add. 

it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen and he nods, grinning at you. “fuck- yes, yes you can. of course.” he says, smiling at you. you kiss him heatedly, grinning as you pull back and lean over to crawl back to the passenger seat. stan slaps your ass lightly as you do and you squeal, grinning back at him with a lifted brow, “c’mon, uris. you’re scoring tonight.”

he rolls his eyes at your cheesy words and groans a bit, but he can’t ignore the butterflies that thrash in his chest nonetheless. 

you love him.

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