#Nhl smut
Note
matthew knies smut — losing ur v card to him
[ helping hand ] m. knies
paring : Matthew Knies x fem!reader
summary : Matthew helps his best friend out after she asks him to take her virginity
warning(s) : smut ! loss of virginity, virgin!reader, light dirty talk, slight hair pulling (blink and you'll miss it tbh) oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v, protected sex, use of pet names during sex (pretty girl, baby, etc.), multiple orgasms
author’s note : felt like writing something cute so i decided to tackle this request and make it as cute as i could. this is my first time writing for kniesy so if it’s bad then pls tell me lol
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Being a 20-year-old virgin sucks. Every time she tries to hook up with a guy, she blurts out that she’s “never done this before” and it scares him away. Needless to say, she is getting very tired of being a virgin. She's loves sex, but she's never gone all the way with a guy.
Tonight was just another reminder that she's never been fucked. She thought that after her date, he'd take her back to his apartment and she'd finally lose her virginity. Then he said that his mom was going to be home soon just as things started getting heated, right after she had said that she's never gone all the way.
It's a tiring pattern.
She's frustrated, and frustration means stomping up to her longtime best friend's Toronto apartment a little before eleven. She pounds her fist on Matthew's door then waits. There are light footsteps behind the door before it's pulled open.
Matthew looks like he just woke up, and she feels bad. His Toronto hockey shirt is a little wrinkled and he's wearing sweats. His hair is a complete disaster. "Did I wake you?" she questions.
He yawns, but shakes his head no. "I was just closing my eyes," he tells her. "I thought you were out on a date or something. Why are you here?"
"You'll never guess what happened," she sighs as she walks past him into his apartment. "I did it again."
Matthew laughs and shuts the door behind her. "You need to stop," he comments. "You're never going to lose it if you keep telling guys that you haven't gone all the way. You're twenty."
"I know!" she groans as she plops down onto his couch. "It's like a get scared or something and it just comes out. I wish I could just get it over with and then it won't come out."
He sits beside her and she looks up at him. "Don't rush it," he tells her. "It's not all that anyway. Just wait until you find someone you trust and genuinely like."
A light bulb flicks on in her head. She sits up and turns her body to face Matthew. "Will you?"
"Will I what?"
"Sleep with me so I'm not a virgin anymore," she finishes. He raises his eyebrows and looks like he's about to object. "I mean, I trust you with everything I have. You're my best friend. You're not bad looking. I've known you for years, Matthew. I'd be okay if you did this for me. It wouldn't change anything with us."
Matthew thinks about it. She knows by the way he sighs and runs his fingers through his messy hair. "You're sure about this?" he questions. "Because I don't want to do this then-"
She rolls his eyes in frustration and cups his jaw. She pulls him into a kiss, and it surprises her when she feels her heart beat out of her chest when her lips meet his. Even Matthew is thrown off by the kiss. He immediately pulls back. She drops her hands to her lap.
"I'm not going to regret it, Matt," she tells him as her eyes meet his. Have his eyes always been this pretty and blue? She's never been this close to see how blue they are. "I promise. It might bring us closer as friends if we do this. I'm not going to stop being your friend because you slept with me."
He still doesn't seem very convinced. "This is going to change us," he tells her. "No matter what. I just want both of us to be ready for that."
With a nod, her eyes flicker down to his lips for a second before returning to his eyes. "I know," she replies. "Just ... please. I'll never ask you for anything ever again if you do this for me."
Matthew searches her face for any signs that she doesn't want this. He won't find any. If she's going to lose her virginity to anyone, she wouldn't mind losing it to her best friend. She wants this.
He doesn't say "okay" or anything like that. All he does is grab her chin between his thumb and pointer finger. "If this is what you really want then I'll do it," he says to her, voice slightly higher than a whisper.
"I really want this," she confirms. "Seriously."
His eyes drop to her lips before he leans in and gently presses his lips to hers, and her eyes flutter shut. Her heart beats out of her chest with how soft and gently he kisses her.
The kisses don't immediately turn heated and needy. Matthew makes sure of that. When they do though, she climbs onto his lap in the red minidress that she's wearing. She straddles his thighs and wraps her arms loosely around his neck. Matthew's hands drop to the bare skin on her thighs.
Her heels clatter to the carpeted floor beneath them with a thud. Her fingers find a home and curl in his locks. She tugs gently and a soft noise comes from Matthew. She smiles into the kiss that follows and tucks this piece of information away for later.
She traps his bottom lip between her teeth and pulls back. She watches it snap back into place. Matthew looks up at her and she sees that his eyes have darkened a bit. There's a dark fire between them and she can tell he's trying to hold himself back.
"Pretend it's not me," she tells him as her hands drag down his neck and chest until they come to a rest on his torso. She play with the hem of his t-shirt. "I can tell, Matt. You're holding back because it's me."
Matthew shakes his head. "I'm holding back because I want to do this right," he replies. "It's not because it's you. I want to make sure that it's perfect for you."
"Then don't hold back," she whispers to him as she attaches her lips to his jaw right under his ear. "It'll be perfect no matter what."
A shaky sigh passes Matthew's kiss-bruised lips. He kisses the swell of her ear and she keeps working at his jaw.
Before she realizes what's happening, Matthew slides his hands to the back of her thighs and stands up. She wraps her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. "It's insane how easily you were able to just pick me up like that," she comments.
"I work out everyday," Matthew replies as he makes his way down the hallway to his bedroom. "Sometimes twice a day. I lay hits on grown men that weigh as much as I do or heavier for a living. I hope that I can lift someone up that is nearly a foot shorter than me and weighs less than what I bench."
She can't contain the giggle that rises in her throat as he crosses the threshold into his room. "That's kind of hot of you, Matt," she admits. "I mean, I don't know how you're single when you bench more than I weigh."
He kicks the door shut behind him and gently sets her down so she's flat on her feet. She sees the flush in his cheeks despite the dimly lit room. She smiles and gets on her tiptoes to instigate another kiss. Matthew has to lean down to kiss her because of the heigh difference between them. His hands rest on her cheeks and she rests against the door.
They stand there for what feels like an eternity. She's almost certain that the lace panties she has on under the dress are ruined. She hasn't be able to stop thinking about Matthew's fingers on her thighs while they were in the couch, not to mention the fact that he was able to pick her up with almost no effort.
Her fingers curl around the hem of his t-shirt and she pulls at it. "Off," she mumbles against his lips. "Matt, please. Off."
The kiss breaks and Matthew reaches down to pull the fabric over his head. Her eyes rake his body and it's very obvious that he works out every day. Her fingers trace his abs and she bites her bottom lip.
Okay, maybe he's more attractive than she's let herself admit. She's never really allowed herself to look at him like this. She's never let herself admire him like this.
Matthew hooks his fingers under the very thin straps that sit on her shoulders. She looks up at him and notices how focused he is on his actions. He pulls the straps off her shoulders and lets the dress fall so it pools at her ankles. She's in her strapless bra and matching panties. She notices Matthew's eyes drink her in.
She puts her hands on his chest and gently pushes him in the direction of his bed. She kicks the dress off so she can follow him. As soon as Matthew sits back on the bed, she crawls onto his lap. Her knees bracket his thighs. She leans in and ravishes his mouth with hers. One of his hands finds its way to her curls and he holds the back of her head so she can’t break the heated kiss.
Without realizing she does it, she rolls her hips against his. He hums and his other hand comes down on her bare waist.
A surge of confidence overcomes her and she reaches behind her. She unhooks her bra and lets the red lace fall between them. She tosses it somewhere at the same time Matthew breaks the kiss.
Her entire body shakes with nerves.
It’s just Matthew. They’ve been friends since his first year at Minnesota. Best friends since his sophomore year. She visited him earlier in the season and fell in love with Canada so she moved into an apartment down the street from him.
She can do this.
Matthew lifts her head up and says, “I’ve got you. Okay? I have you. Whatever you want.”
“I want you,” she tells him. “Please. I need you.”
He moves back on the bed and flips them over so he hovers over her. Her curls create a halo around her head. Matthew thumbs her swollen lips and trails it down over her chin, over her chest, between her breasts, and down her stomach until his fingers rest at the waistband of her panties. Goosebumps follow his fingers down her upper body.
She can feel the bulge in his pants so she bucks her hips up to grind her clothed core against the bulge. “Shit,” he gasps. “You can’t just do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’ll come before either of us are ready.”
She lets out a light laugh. “We wouldn’t want that, now would we?” she teases.
“Shut up,” he mumbles before shutting her up himself with a deep kiss. She smiles and hooks her fingers into the waistband of his sweatpants.
She pushes his sweatpants down and over his ass. He helps her out and kicks them off.
When she tries to put her hand in his boxers, Matthew stops her. He breaks the kiss and shakes his head. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right. I’m going to make sure you feel good and make sure you’re comfortable, okay?” he says to her.
“Okay,” she replies, voice barely above a whisper.
With her permission, Matthew hooks his fingers in the waistband of her panties and slowly pulls the thin fabric off her body. He tosses them to the floor and she lets her knees fall open.
Matthew attaches his lips to her jaw, then slowly trails his lips down her body. He makes a quick stop when he gets to her breasts. He gives each one a little attention and she lets out a soft noise. She bites her lip to keep from making any embarrassing noises.
He lies on his stomach and throws her legs over his broad shoulders. She watches as he presses soft kisses to her leg trailing from her inner knee and up her inner thigh. He stops right before he gets to her core.
“Already so wet for me,” he comments. She nods and grabs a pillow to rest her head on so she doesn’t get a crick in her neck.
That’s when Matthew slides a finger through her soaked folds. A whine passes her lips and she looks down at him with her eyes. He teases her entrance and she gasps, “I- Matthew. Don’t tease please. Do something.”
“Didn’t think you were a begger, pretty girl,” he replies. She shoots him a glare and he laughs.
She’s about to say something to him when he wraps his lips around her clit. “Oh my- fuck” is what comes out of her mouth instead. Matthew hums and sends vibrations through her entire body. He slowly pushes a finger into her and her back arches off the bed.
Matthew’s free hand slides up her body and cups one of her tits. She didn’t pick Matthew to be a boob guy, but today is full of surprises.
Soft pants pass her lips as Matthew keeps using his mouth and fingers to bring her closer to an orgasm. He adds a second finger and her hands fly to his hair. Her breathing has gotten extremely labored and soft noises consistently pass her lips.
He’s so careful with his movements, so precise. He knows what he’s doing, and she’s not at all surprised that he does. She didn’t realize just how much he knew. Despite never actually hooking up before, it’s like he knows her entire body and what she likes.
Once a third finger is inside of her, Matthew curls his fingers in a “come here” motion. She gasps and a knot forms in the pit of her stomach. “Matt,” she groans. “I- Matthew.”
“Let me hear you,” he tells her. “Wanna hear you when you come on my fingers. Can you do do that for me?”
She nods and hums. “Yeah,” she breathes out.
“Go ahead, pretty girl,” Matthew says. “Come for me. I can feel how close you are.”
His lips are back on her clit and she’s coming seconds later.
Her back arches off the mattress as her walls clench around his fingers. Her body turns into jelly as he fingers her through what’s probably the strongest orgasm she’s ever had. She swears she blacks out.
Her breathing is extremely labored as Matthew withdraws his fingers. She whimpers at the loss and watches him crawl up her body when her vision comes back. He smiles when he sees how out of it she probably looks.
Matthew peppers her cheek with soft kisses as she comes to.
“You okay?” he asks. “Can you do one more?”
“Mhm,” she hums. “Want you inside me, Matt. Please. I need you.”
He captures her lips in a soft kiss and she groans when she tastes herself on his lips.
It’s a very quick kiss. Matthew reaches over into his bedside drawer and pulls out a tiny foil package. He puts it between his teeth as he pushes his boxers off his body. She bites her lip as Matthew’s dick pops out of the confines of the boxers.
She accidentally saw his dick one time before now, and it looked nothing like it does right now. “Jesus, Matt,” she gasps. “Is it gonna fit?”
Matthew laughs and slides the condom onto his dick. “I promise it’ll fit,” he tells her.
He hover over her between her legs. The tip of his dick lines up with her entrance and she shakes. Her heart races in her chest and she stares up at the pretty boy above her. “Slow,” she tells him. “Okay? I don’t know-”
“Tell me if you need me to stop or if it hurts,” he interrupts. “I’ll move at your pace, okay? I have you.”
She nods. “Go.”
Matthew slowly pushes into her. She gasps as the unfamiliar stretch and grasps onto his biceps. The deeper he goes, the more it hurts. She pushes through though and pain eventually turns into pleasure.
He moves so slow though that it’s almost painful. She wants him to ruin her but she wants to be able to walk in the morning. Whatever that will look like.
She reaches up and slides her hair into Matthew’s hair. His eyes lock with her as he bottoms out in her. Her lips are pressed in a line. “Okay?” he asks.
With a nod, she says, “I’m okay. Give me a second. You’re fucking big, Matt. Damn.”
He laughs. “That’s not my fault,” he replies. “Most women I hook up with like it.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t like it, asshole,” she retorts. “I said I needed a second.”
Matthew laughs again and she pulls him down into a kiss to shut him up. He licks into her mouth and she groans.
Feeling ready, she rolls her hips. One of Matthew’s hands rests on her waist and he meets her movements.
It’s slow, but it feels good. He slowly but deeply thrusts into her. She moans into Matthew’s mouth and he swallows every noise. Her hands slide from his hair to his back. She gently digs her nails into his skin.
He speeds his movements up a bit and she throws her head back against the pillows. “Fuck,” she gasps. “God. Matt.”
“Okay, baby?” he asks. “Good to keep going?”
She nods. “Like you mean it,” she pants. Matthew’s smile reaches his ears.
Matthew throws one of her legs over his shoulder and is able to move deeper into her at the new angle. She cries out his name and he attaches his lips to her neck. He’s covering her entire body at this point. It’s not only his dick that’s big. Matthew himself is a bigger guy.
He slows his movements but continues to bury his cock in her. The knot forms again in the pit of her stomach.
“Matt, I-”
“Me too,” he interrupts. “This is about you. I’m not gonna come until you come on my cock, pretty girl.”
She feels tears in her eyes as she tries to keep herself from coming. It feels too good and she doesn’t want it to end yet.
Especially since this is probably the first and last time she gets this from Matthew. She wants it to last.
Matthew slides a hand between them and as soon as his fingers find her clit again, she comes.
His name is on her lips as he fucks her through what is definitely the strongest orgasm of her life. Her entire body shudders as she comes. Her vision goes white for a hot second and she completely melts against the mattress beneath her. Her legs fall to the bed.
He comes into the condom before he pulls out of her. They’re both panting messes as he ties off the condom and throws it out. She very lazily crawls under the covers and Matthew joins her.
There’s a comfortable silence between them as they both recover from their highs. She finally gains feeling back in all her extremities and looks over at him.
“Thank you,” she weakly says.
“For?”
“Doing that for me. It was fun. I enjoyed it.”
Matthew sits up in bed and leans back against the headboard just as she went to curl up next to him. “I should’ve said something before we did that,” he admits to her.
She sits up and holds the blankets under her arms to keep herself covered. “What?”
He bites his kiss-bruised bottom lip for a second. “I have feelings for you,” he confesses. “Genuine feelings for you and I feel guilty for saying yes before telling you that.”
A day full of surprises.
She’d be lying if she said she didn’t feel the same. There is a reason she asked him of all her friends to do this for her. She’s always known he was attractive, a genuine guy and an incredible hockey player.
She’s damn lucky that Matthew agreed to have sex with her.
Matthew looks terrified. She smiles and drops her head to his shoulder. “You should see the look on your face,” she laughs.
“I’m being serious,” he tells her.
“I know,” she replies. Her chin rests on his shoulder. “I like you too. Why do you think I asked you to do this and not someone else?”
He blinks. “I thought you were just tired of being a twenty year old virgin,” he flatly states.
“There was that but I wanted it to be you,” she admits. “I guess I was just shooting my shot.”
“You’re ridiculous,” Matthew laughs.
She crawls onto his lap and lays on him. “When do I get one of those cool jackets the wives and girlfriends have?”
“You want one?”
“I do,” she tells him as she looks up at him. “Is that okay? If I got one?”
Matthew smiles and nods. “I’ll get you one.”
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#hockey imagines#hockey imagine#hockey fanfiction#hockey fic#hockey oneshot#hockey smut#nhl imagines#nhl imagine#nhl fanfiction#nhl fic#nhl oneshot#nhl smut#matthew knies#matthew knies x reader#matthew knies smut#zegrasdrysdale request
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calling quinn “captain” in bed and he goes feral
warnings: emosh quinn, sex as comfort HIII, masturbation (fingering), wee bit of dirty talk, riding, unprotected p in v, use of "captain"
pairing: quinn hughes x fem!reader
summary: the one where quinn comes home after the 'nucks are knocked out of the playoffs (i am not manifesting!!) and he and his girl make up for the time missing each other.
wc: 1601
The playoffs had come to an end with a simmer for the Canucks. Quinn, who had led his team to so many victories throughout the season, was headed home after game seven of the second round– just narrowly missing the finals for the Stanley Cup.
You had called him briefly after the game, but he wasn’t in the mood to talk. He had been quiet, listening to you speak about your day– a topic that he himself had requested, so unhappy with his game that he didn’t even want to acknowledge the fact that he played hockey for a living.
Listening to you talk about the book that you read that day, the walk that you had gone on with your best friend, and the annoying conversation you had to have with your boss that you hate made him feel like he was just a normal guy for a day.
Now, with him on the way home, you were ready to comfort him in any way that you could.
And it started by making him forget about his problems in the way that only you were allowed to do.
That’s why you were waiting on your couch, naked, legs spread and a finger on your clit. Quinn was due to walk through the door at any minute and the first thing you wanted him to see when he walked into his apartment was his girlfriend waiting for him.
Quinn mused about your beauty all the time, whether it was in public or just to you or just to himself. He had told you many times over the course of his relationship that though you were beautiful all the time, there was nothing like the way you looked underneath him as his cock thrust inside you.
Tonight, he would certainly be inside you. You were just hoping that you’d be the one on top of him, taking care of him, making him feel good.
The lock flipped as Quinn unlocked the door, making you perk up and tilt your head with innocent eyes at the front door.
“Hi, Q,” You greeted.
Quinn had crossed the threshold with his head down, dragging his suitcase behind him. His face was soft when he looked up at you, placated like he was happy to see you but still so, so sad. Then, his eyes fixed on your fingers, the ones that were running up and down your glistening slit.
“Hi,” Quinn replied, seeming frozen in place. His eyes darted between yours and your fingers.
“I’ve been thinking about you,” You said. You reached up to pinch a nipple between the fingers of your other hand, watching Quinn’s eyes follow your movements.
He shrugged off his jacket, toed off his shoes. “Anything in particular?” He asked.
“Been missing your cock, Q. I’ve been feeling so empty without you around to fill me up.”
His eyes widened almost imperceptibly. Quinn shifted his weight from one foot to the other, reaching up to unbutton his shirt.
As the expanse of his chest appeared to you, the light dusting of hair that you loved so much, you moaned softly and pushed a finger inside yourself. It was smaller than Quinn’s, and the angle was always weird when you fingered yourself, and it was hard to get any real pleasure without getting your other hand on your clit, but it was worth seeing the look on Quinn’s face and the way his pants tightened.
“I tried my fingers, Q. I tried my toys. They just– oh– they weren’t as good as you.”
“Fuck, I missed you,” Quinn said, crossing the room and kneeling over you. “That mouth, so dirty, baby.”
You leaned up, capturing Quinn’s soft lips with your own. The kiss was wet, both of you trying to convey just how much you had wanted each other while Quinn was gone without saying a single word. Your finger never ceased moving inside of you, although Quinn had started to rub over your clit. You worked in tandem, comfortably, making your body roll into the pressure. Your movements, and his, were slow, savoring the fact that you were together again and would be for nearly the whole off season.
“I want to ride you,” You breathed into Quinn’s mouth, so quiet that he would practically have to taste the words on his tongue to understand you.
He did, though. Of course he understood what you said. He knew immediately, with the way he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you with him as he sat back onto the couch. He fumbled with his pants, unzipping them and pulling them down his thighs just enough that they were out of the way.
You sank down on his cock as soon as he pressed it against your opening, your mouth falling open with the sensation.You panted into Quinn’s mouth as you began to lift yourself up and down.
Quinn’s hands were resting on your hips, doing nothing except acting as a presence, something to anchor you as you rose and fell on his length.
“Feel so good,” Quinn praised, transfixed by the way your hair was framing your face and the way you bit your bottom lip when you found your g-spot without his help. “Was this what you imagined while I was gone, doll?”
“Yeah, yeah,” You agreed. “Fuck, Quinn, I needed you to take care of me.”
His heart quivered in his chest at that, those words meaning more to him than so many of the things you could have said when he came home.
“I’m here,” Quinn assured you, his fingers pressing into your skin, grabbing and enveloping the shape of your hipbones. “Gonna take care of you forever.”
“So good.” You began to bounce up and down harder, more quickly, relishing in the way Quinn’s skin slapped against yours. “Q,” You whined, clutching at the muscles of his shoulder, one hand pressing against his chest. “Quinn, I’m gonna come, oh, Captain…”
All the breath flew out of Quinn like it was stolen from his lungs, squeezed like a tube of toothpaste that had just one more use left in it. It was like his vision went dark, the word echoing in his head. Captain, captain, captain.
Quinn’s hips moved of their own accord. His hands, having once rested delicately on your hips, were now clutching your ass desperately.
“My girl, fuck, need me to take charge like I do on the ice? Need your captain to fill you up ‘cuz you can’t make yourself feel good? Have I spoiled you that much?” Quinn rambled, fucking into you with earnest.
He brought one hand up to the back of your neck, pulling you flush against his chest. His hips were like a machine, fucking into you so well, so consistently. It was militant, Quinn able to play you like a violin after memorizing your body long, long ago.
You could only moan in response, the kiss of his cock against your walls, as strong as a heartbeat turning your mind to jelly. What was originally a night meant to tease Quinn, to prioritize him, had quickly devolved into a night of mind-numbing, leg-shaking pleasure for you.
“Looked so good, touching yourself when I walked in,” Quinn continued. “Such a pretty sight to walk into. You’re all mine, huh? Just needed me to come home and make you feel good? Show me what I was missing?”
“Quinn,” You whimpered.
“Captain,” He corrected.
“Captain,” You repeated, drawn out. As if hypnotized, you were willing to repeat back anything he said. “Can I come?”
Quinn groaned, gravelly in the back of his throat. He lifted you up and down to meet his thrusts, watching the way his cock disappeared inside of you. His eyes focused on the ring of your wetness around the base of his cock, the clear pool of juice that glinted on his abdomen in the light.
“Please,” You begged, your head finding the curve of his neck. “It’s so good, Cap. I need to come, please let me come.”
“Come, baby,” Quinn encouraged, his thrusts growing uncoordinated as you squeezed him. “Come with me.” With just a few more thrusts, Quinn felt himself burst, spurting inside of you. The aftershocks overtook him when you let out a sigh at the feeling of him, his warmth, filling you up in a way it hadn’t in so long that you’d missed so much.
For a few minutes, you and Quinn just basked in the feeling of being reunited with the person you loved.
“Captain,” He eventually said aloud, stating it like he was feeling out the way the word felt in his mouth. Quinn eyed you, raising a brow.
“I like the way you take care of your team,” You admitted. You reached out and toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck, twirling it around your finger. “Reminds me of how you take care of me.”
Quinn’s heart flipped in a funny way, something akin to heartbreak but so much warmer. “I love you so much,” He said, forcing the words out in a way that he hoped conveyed just how genuinely he felt them.
You smiled, soft and sweet, and continued to play with his hair. You two sat there, on the couch in the presence of the other, until you lost track of time. Eventually, when you were blinking slowly and Quinn could feel your eyelashes beginning to flutter against his neck in a way that signaled your exhaustion, he picked you up and carried you to bed.
Always taking care of you.
note: ANOTHER MONDAY MORNING ONESHOT! I AM NOTHING IF NOT CONSISTENT ABOUT MONDAY MORNINGS!
feeling like a fuckin pirate writing this captain shit (i love y'all and i looove reading captain kink fics (that one threesome between quinn and nico...) but i felt like a damn pirate! aye aye matey!) i'll stick to my daddy kink a-thank-yewwww
also: game 4? in nash? holy shit! quinn's hair is so much darker in person and it looks so fluffy. he's pretty (and looks lost all the time) and also i never saw him make eye contact with anyone standing at the glass during warmups. also-also his tapejob on his socks was so weird? also also also: he was adjusting his gear literally every thirty seconds between whistles and no one else was– does your gear not fit, brother?
#puck-luck's fics#quinn hughes#quinn hughes smut#quinn hughes x reader#quinn hughes x y/n#nhl smut#nhl x reader#nhl fic#nhl fanfiction#andy writes anything🍄#qh43
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The Lucky Bachelor
Part 1 - Luke Hughes X Reader
Masterlist Link
a:n When you guys' finish let me know if you want a part 2. I'm a little conflicted because I feel like I can't write as good for Luke as I do Jack. Idk why when I'm literally gonna marry this man but whatever. Enjoy!!
Summary: This is their second chance at love, it had been three years since that night in Michigan, three years since they officially split for the better. With some unwanted help Luke knows he will find a way to make her love him again.
Word Count 6401
Y/n’s POV
Y/N inhaled deeply, the distinct aroma of stale coffee and the acrid scent of cleaning products assaulting her senses as she stepped into the bustling airport terminal.
The rhythmic whirring of the wheels on her carry-on luggage provided a muffled counterpoint to the cacophony of voices echoing off the high ceilings and the distant hum of aircraft engines.
As she pushed through the throng of hurried travelers, her eyes darted from sign to screen, searching for the gate information for her flight. Suddenly, the overhead intercom crackled to life, a tinny, robotic voice cutting through the din.
"Good afternoon, passengers. This is the pre-boarding announcement for flight 89B to Rome. We are now inviting those passengers with small children, and any passengers requiring special assistance, to begin boarding at this time." The announcement was punctuated by a sharp, piercing ding that drew the attention of those waiting nearby.
Amidst the sea of harried bodies, a familiar figure suddenly caught Y/N's eye. Clarke, the bride-to-be and her best friend since childhood, stood near the crowded check-in counter.
Her blonde hair cascaded down her back in soft waves, the airport's harsh lighting lending an almost ethereal glow to the strands. Clarke was practically bouncing on her toes, her smile radiant with pure joy as she waved enthusiastically, beckoning Y/N over.
"Over here!" Clarke squealed, her voice carrying above the din of the busy airport. She cupped her hands around her mouth, ensuring that her words reached Y/N's ears.
For a moment, the nervousness that had been coiling in Y/N's stomach dissipated, replaced by a warm sense of affection. The nerves that had been twisting in her stomach moments ago melted away, replaced by a comforting warmth that spread through her chest.
She quickened her pace, dodging luggage and weaving through the crowd with newfound energy until she reached the circle of familiar faces.
"Sorry, excuse me," Y/N muttered apologetically as she squeezed past a family of tourists, their curious glances following her as she made her way towards her friends.
The moment Y/N stepped into the group, Clarke's eyes lit up, her face splitting into an ecstatic grin. "Y/N! You made it!" she squealed, her voice rising an octave in excitement. Without hesitation, Clarke flung her arms around Y/N, enveloping her in a tight hug that smelled earthy and green.
Y/N laughed, the sound bubbling up from her chest as she returned the embrace, squeezing Clarke tightly. The two friends held each other for a moment, the chaos of the airport fading into the background as they savored the reunion.
"I wouldn't miss it for the world," Y/N declared, her voice filled with sincerity as she pulled back to look her best friend in the eye. "You and Damien deserve the best celebration."
At the mention of her fiancé's name, Clarke's cheeks flushed with a delicate hue, a blend of happiness and bashfulness coloring her features. "Thank you, Y/N," she said softly, her eyes glistening with gratitude. "It means the world to me that you're here."
Clarke took a deep breath, composing herself before turning to the rest of the group with a radiant smile. "Come say hi to everyone else," she urged, tugging Y/N's hand and leading her towards the other bridesmaids.
As Y/N greeted each of the girls with warm, enthusiastic hugs, the chatter among the group grew louder. But as her gaze swept across the familiar faces, it landed on a newcomer, a girl she had never seen before.
The stranger stood slightly apart from the rest, her fiery red hair cascading down her back in vivid, rebellious curls.
Her piercing green eyes seemed to hold a glint of something mysterious, an undercurrent of intensity that made Y/N pause for a moment, her heart skipping a beat.
Brushing off the strange, unsettling feeling that crept up her spine, Y/N approached the girl with a friendly smile etched onto her features. "Hi there," she said, extending her hand in greeting. "I don't think we've met before. I'm Y/N, Clarke's childhood friend."
The redhead's lips curved into a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, a guarded expression that immediately put Y/N on edge. "Anastasia," she replied, her voice smooth and measured as she grasped Y/N's outstretched hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
Despite the polite exchange, Y/N couldn't shake the odd, prickling sensation that settled in the pit of her stomach. There was something about Anastasia, something indescribable, that felt off - a subtle tension that hung in the air between them, thick and suffocating.
But before Y/N could dwell on it further, Clarke appeared by their side, her face lit up with excitement, effectively shattering the moment.
"Y/N, I see you've met Anastasia," Clarke beamed, placing a hand on each of their shoulders, forming a bridge between the two women. "She's a close work friend from my new job. I've been dying for you two to meet!"
Y/N forced a smile, the muscles in her face straining with the effort as she tried to push down the unease that threatened to surface. "That's great," she replied, her voice sounding a bit too chipper even to her own ears. "I'm always happy to meet Clarke's friends. As you can tell we're all thick as thieves now."
Anastasia's piercing gaze flickered between Y/N and Clarke, a flash of something indecipherable crossing her features before it was quickly replaced by a warm, almost saccharine smile.
"Clarke has told me so much about you, Y/N," she said, her tone honey-sweet and dripping with false sincerity. "I feel like I already know you."
Y/N let out a strained laugh, the sound grating against her own ears. "All good things, I hope," she joked, trying in vain to lighten the suddenly palpable tension.
Clarke giggled, her hand giving Y/N's shoulder a brief, reassuring squeeze, seemingly oblivious to the undercurrent of unease swirling between the two women.
…
All too quickly, the girls began navigating through the bustling airport, checking in their luggage and making their way through the winding security checkpoints, Y/N found herself easily falling back into step with their giddy chatter.
Taylor, one of Clarke's college friends, let out a giggle as she recounted her latest romantic escapade.
"Me and Travis aren't together anymore. He was too clingy," she said with a dramatic sigh, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Maybe I'll steal up one of the best men, huh, Clarke?"
Clarke rolled her eyes playfully, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. Taylor was always like this, falling in love too quickly and falling out of it just as fast. Her romantic aspirations were as fleeting as the summer breeze, but her infectious laughter and carefree spirit made her an essential part of their tight-knit group.
The conversation shifted to the upcoming bachelorette party as they made their way to the boarding gate. Clarke's eyes sparkled as she described the home they'd be staying at, her hands gesturing animatedly as she painted a vivid picture of pristine white sand and crystal-clear waters.
"I found it a couple of months ago," she explained, her voice brimming with excitement. "It's a little expensive, but I feel like this week will be worth it."
Y/N listened intently, absorbing every word as Clarke waxed poetic about the luxurious amenities and breathtaking views. She could almost feel the warm sand beneath her feet, the salty breeze caressing her skin, and the laughter of her friends echoing through the night.
The intercom crackled to life, a pleasant voice filling the air. "Attention passengers, this is the final boarding call for Flight 227 to Bali. Please make your way to Gate 12. Thank you."
The announcement sent a ripple of excitement through the group, signaling for them to gather their belongings.
The girls fell into a single file line, stepping onto the plane and entering the luxurious first-class cabin that welcomed them with plush seats and gleaming surfaces.
Just as Y/N was settling into her seat, a familiar name caught her attention, causing her heart to skip a beat. "I can't wait to see Luke," one of the girls gushed, her voice taking on a dreamy quality.
It was Anastasia.
"He's such a dreamboat, Emilia, don't you think? Have you seen his arms?" she giggled.
Y/N felt a chill run down her spine, her grip tightening on the handle of her carry-on. She glanced up, only to find Clarke’s eyes already fixed on her, a mixture of guilt and concern etched across her face before she forced a toothy smile. For a moment, they simply stared at each other, a silent conversation passing between them.
Y/N swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry. She'd known this moment would come, the day she’d see Luke again. But hearing his name spoken so casually, as if he were just another guest and not the boy who had once held her heart in his hands, made it all too real.
It was Clarke who broke the eye contact first, her smile faltering. She cleared her throat, breaking the tension. "We should probably find our seats," she suggested, her voice strained.
Y/N nodded, grateful for the escape. She followed the group onto the plane, her mind reeling with thoughts of Luke and the memories they'd shared.
Once they settled into their seats, Clarke turned to Y/N, her face contorted with guilt. "I was gonna tell you," she screeched, her hands clasped together as if in prayer. "Please don't be mad, Damien and Luke have gotten so close it would be rude not to invite him."
Y/N sighed, leaning back against the headrest. She couldn't blame Clarke for inviting Luke. After all, he was part of their shared history, a friend to both the bride and groom.
But the knowledge that he would be there, that she'd have to face him after all this time, sent a wave of anxiety crashing over her.
"I'm not mad, I promise," she said, the tightness in her jaw betraying her calm tone as she forced a smile. "It's just... complicated. I haven't seen him in a long time, so maybe this can be a good thing."
Clarke reached over, tentatively squeezing Y/N's hand. "I know," she murmured, her brow furrowed with concern.
"You guys are older now and have most of life figured out. Maybe you guys can be friends again? Get some closure."
Y/N nodded stiffly, her gaze trained straight ahead. The past had a way of clinging to her, of resurfacing when she least expected it. And with Luke, there was so much left unsaid, so many questions left unanswered that made her chest tighten.
Anastasia plopped down into the open seat next to her, a twist of fate that made Y/N's heart skip a beat. The redhead offered her a sidelong glance, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth.
"Looks like we'll be getting to know each other quite well on this trip," Anastasia remarked, her voice low and conspiratorial.
Y/N swallowed hard, the muscles in her neck tensing as she nodded in agreement. Little did she know, Anastasia's words held a weight that would soon become all too clear.
…
Luke’s POV
Luke stepped off the plane, the warm island breeze caressing his face and tousling his chestnut hair. The salty scent of the ocean filled his nostrils, mingling with the faint aroma of sunscreen and tropical flowers.
He paused for a moment, taking it all in, the exotic smells washing over him and easing the tension in his shoulders.
Adjusting the strap of his backpack, Luke scanned the crowded airport, his eyes searching for familiar faces amidst the sea of tourists and locals.
A flash of recognition caught his attention, and he spotted his friends gathered near the baggage claim, their laughter and animated conversations rising above the din of the busy terminal.
A grin spread across his face as he made his way towards them, a mixture of excitement and a touch of nerves fluttering in his chest. "Hey, guys!" he called out, his voice carrying a hint of his trademark dorky charm.
Luke was excited to see his old friends again. His friends turned to greet him, their faces lit up with genuine smiles and enthusiastic handshakes.
They fell into an easy banter, discussing the itinerary for the joint bachelor party and good-naturedly teasing the groom-to-be about his upcoming nuptials.
Luke joined in the lively conversation, laughing and joking along with the others. But even as he participated, he couldn't quite shake the twinge of apprehension that gnawed at the back of his mind.
Y/N would be here, on this very island, and the thought of seeing her again after all this time sent a shiver down his spine.
"Hey, Luke, you planning on sweeping any of the local ladies off their feet this weekend?" one of his friends, Jared, elbowed him playfully.
Luke chuckled, trying to mask the underlying tension. "Nah, man, I'm here to support the groom, not to cause any trouble."
Another friend, Ethan, piped up. "Yeah, right. Like we don't all remember how you used to be the ultimate ladies' man back in the day."
"That was a lifetime ago," Luke shrugged, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. In truth, his mind was elsewhere, still consumed by the thought of reuniting with Y/N.
He could still vividly remember the way her eyes sparkled when she laughed, the softness of her skin under his fingertips, and the soothing way her voice could calm his worries.
Their fairy tale romance had been cut short by the demands of his burgeoning NHL career, the distance and the pressure ultimately proving too much for their relationship to withstand.
The breakup had been painful, a raw wound that had never fully healed. In the aftermath, they had lost touch, each of them focusing on their own lives and careers, trying to move forward without the other.
Now, as Luke prepared to see Y/N again, he found himself grappling with a whirlwind of emotions.
Would she still be the same girl he had fallen for all those years ago? Would the connection between them still be there, simmering beneath the surface? The uncertainty only served to heighten the nervous anxiety bubbling in his chest.
…
After three hours of painful silence on the plane, they finally made It back to the ground. y/n felt like she could finally breathe again as the fresh air hit her face. She was almost too grateful to be more than a few feet away from Anastasia.
Clarke led the way to the car rental counter, all seemed well until Anastasia suddenly let out an exasperated sigh. "Ugh, it looks like there's been some kind of mix-up with our reservation," she groaned, her brow furrowed in frustration.
Clarke's eyes went wide. "What do you mean? I double-checked everything before we left!" she exclaimed, her voice tinged with worry.
Anastasia shot Y/N a pointed look. "Well, maybe if someone hadn't been so distracted, we wouldn't be in this mess," she huffed, her tone dripping with condescension.
Y/N felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment and confusion. "What are you talking about? I haven't done anything," she protested, her hands raised in a placating gesture.
The redhead rolled her eyes dramatically. "Oh, please. Don't play innocent with me. I saw the way you were eyeing the baggage carousel, completely oblivious to everything else around you."
"Woah relax!" Y/N exclaimed, her voice rising in pitch. "I was just looking around, making sure I didn't miss our luggage. There's no need to make this into a big deal, I mean what exactly is this mess-up you’re talking about."
Anastasia scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Well, it is a big deal when your carelessness jeopardizes our entire trip. Now we're going to have to waste time sorting this out instead of enjoying ourselves."
Clarke stepped in, placing a hand on Anastasia's shoulder in an attempt to defuse the situation. "Let's all just take a deep breath, okay? I'm sure we can figure this out," she said in a soothing tone, casting an apologetic glance in Y/N's direction.
Y/N felt her heart racing, she wanted nothing more than to escape the confrontation, to retreat to a quiet corner and gather her thoughts. But Anastasia's accusatory gaze kept her rooted to the spot, her pride and sense of fairness refusing to back down.
"I'm not the one who caused this problem, Anastasia," Y/N insisted, her voice laced with a hint of steel. "If you'd just calm down and let the rental agent handle it, I'm sure we can get this sorted out."
The redhead's eyes narrowed, and for a moment, Y/N could have sworn she saw a spark of genuine malice in their depths. "Oh, I'm perfectly calm," Anastasia purred, her lips curling into a sardonic smile. "I'm just not going to let anyone ruin this trip for me. Especially not you."
After several tense minutes of negotiating with the rental agent, Clarke finally emerged with a set of keys, a strained smile on her face.
"Okay, everyone," she called out, waving the group over. "We got it all sorted out. Let's head to the car and get this show on the road!"
The girls filed towards the waiting vehicle, each one casting wary glances at Anastasia, who seemed to be in an especially foul mood. As Y/N reached for the handle of the front passenger door, the redhead suddenly pulled it open and slid into the seat, an triumphant smirk on her face.
Y/N froze, unsure if Anastasia was being serious. For a moment, she considered putting up a fight, asserting her rightful place in the front. But the odds already felt stacked against her, and she didn't want to risk escalating the situation further.
Letting out a resigned sigh, Y/N settled into the backseat, squeezing in next to Taylor. The brunette shot her an apologetic look, mouthing a silent "I don’t know what her deal is" as she placed a comforting hand on Y/N's arm.
…
The car pulled up to the beachfront property, and Y/N felt her breath catch in her throat. The house was stunning, a perfect blend of modern architecture and tropical charm, nestled on a secluded stretch of pristine white sand.
The sound of waves crashing against the shore filled her ears, a soothing melody that did little to calm the butterflies fluttering restlessly in her stomach.
Y/N hung back, taking a moment to gather her composure while the girls tumbled out of the car. She watched as her friends eagerly grabbed their bags from the trunk, their faces aglow with the glow of the setting sun.
The last time she had been in this paradise-like setting, she had been with Luke, their young love blossoming amidst the sun-drenched days and moonlit nights. Now, the prospect of seeing him again after all these years sent a shiver of both trepidation and longing through her.
Emilia turned and noticed Y/N lingering behind. "Y/N! Are you coming inside?" she called out, her voice brimming with excitement.
Y/N mustered a small smile and nodded. "Yeah, I'll be there in a minute," she replied, her voice betraying a hint of the turmoil she felt. "I just... need a moment."
Emilia returned the smile and nodded in understanding before disappearing through the doorway, leaving Y/N to collect her thoughts. Steeling herself, Y/N reached for her suitcase and followed the group inside.
Exhaling a shaky breath, Y/N pushed open the car door and stepped out, embracing the warm, salty breeze that swept across the secluded beachfront property.
She was the last one to leave the vehicle, her luggage trailing behind her as she crossed the threshold, the car door clicking shut softly behind her - a subtle finality that seemed to seal her fate.
The walk to the kitchen felt like an eternity, each step a battle against the nerves that she couldn’t seem to shake off. Her heart pounded in her ears, a deafening rhythm that drowned out the chatter and laughter of her friends. She forced a smile onto her face, waving to Damien and his groomsmen as she entered the room, her eyes scanning the space almost involuntarily.
And then, as if by some magnetic force, her gaze landed on Luke.
Time seemed to slow to a crawl as their eyes met, their gazes locking in a moment that was both thrilling and terrifying. This was it, the moment she had both anticipated and dreaded, the chance to confront the past she had spent years trying to outrun.
He was leaning against the kitchen island, his tall frame exuding an air of effortless confidence. The years had been kind to him, sculpting his features into a breathtaking work of art. His chestnut hair was tousled, as if he had just run his fingers through it, and his eyes, those deep pools of brown that had once held her captive, sparkled with mirth as he laughed at something one of the guys had said.
He looked like he had just stepped out of a magazine shoot, a perfect specimen of masculine beauty. Y/N felt her breath hitch, her heart skipping a beat as she drank in the sight of him. It was as if no time had passed at all, as if they were still those love-struck teenagers, stealing glances at each other across a crowded classroom.
Luke's expression shifted from surprise to a tentative smile, and Y/N felt her heart flutter, the familiar pull of their connection tugging at her very soul. She took a step forward, compelled by an invisible thread that bound them together, but the sound of Anastasia's voice piercing the charged silence shattered the moment, yanking Y/N back to reality.
"Y/N! There you are," the redhead chirped, her tone sugary sweet as she sidled up to Y/N, a possessive hand resting on her arm. "We were just about to start mixing cocktails. Care to join us?" Y/N tore her gaze away.
"Uh, yeah, sure. I'd love to help," Y/N managed, her voice betraying a hint of her nerves. She moved to the counter, her fingers fumbling as she tried to focus on the task at hand.
She could feel Luke's presence, even without looking at him, a palpable energy that crackled and sizzled in the space between them. It was going to be a long week, a test of her resolve and her ability to keep her heart in check.
With one last glance in Luke's direction, Y/N turned away.
…
Y/N plastered on a smile, pushing down the turmoil raging within as she joined the girls in the kitchen, their lively chatter and laughter a sharp contrast to the palpable tension coursing through her veins.
"Ah, there's our girl!" Anastasia crooned, draping a possessive arm around Y/N's shoulders and guiding her to the makeshift bar. "We were just about to start mixing some cocktails."
Y/N hesitated for a moment, her gaze flickering towards the living room, where the groomsmen - including Luke - had gathered. She could feel his eyes on her, a pull so powerful it was as if he were a planet and she, a helpless moon in his gravitational field.
"Hey, Luke, looks like your old flame is getting her flirt on," Jared teased, elbowing the other man playfully.
Luke felt a flash of something akin to jealousy surge through him, but he quickly tamped it down, offering a casual shrug. "It's been a long time. I'm sure she's just being friendly."
Ethan chuckled, a devious grin spreading across his face. "Friendly, huh? Well, in that case, maybe one of us should go over there and help her out. You know, show her a real good time."
The group erupted in a chorus of laughter, their eyes trained on the girls as they moved around the kitchen, their movements graceful and flirtatious. She could feel the weight of their gazes, and she fought the urge to squirm under the scrutiny.
Anastasia, on the other hand, seemed to thrive on the attention, her hips swaying in a way that Y/N couldn't help but find a bit over-the-top.
Y/N felt a subtle unease creep up her spine as Anastasia's flirtatious behavior escalated, the redhead's touches and innuendos growing increasingly blatant. Trying to divert Anastasia's attention, Y/N turned to the other girls, forcing a smile onto her face.
"So ladies, how are you two planning to spend tonight?" she asked, silently pleading for backup.
Taylor grinned and leaned in conspiratorially. “I plan to spend it drunk, maybe some skinny dipping on the beach.” she winked.
Clarke, ever the diplomatic peacekeeper, stepped in, placing a hand on Anastasia's arm. "Alright, ladies, let's not hog all the fun. I'm sure the boys are getting thirsty over there." She flashed them a playful wink, her gaze shifting to Y/N, a silent message of reassurance passing between them.
"Oh, don't worry, Clarke. I'm sure the boys can entertain themselves for a while." She cast a pointed glance towards the living room, her lips curving into a coy smile. "After all, we girls need to have a little fun of our own, don't we, Y/N?" Anastasia's smooth, saccharine voice cut through the chatter.
Y/N felt her stomach twist with discomfort, the charged undercurrent in Anastasia's words raising all sorts of warning bells in her mind. Mustering a tight-lipped smile, she nodded, her eyes silently pleading with the other girls to steer the conversation in a different direction.
…
The initial excitement of the group's arrival had settled down, and the friends naturally split off into smaller clusters, catching up and exploring the luxurious beach house.
Luke stayed in the kitchen fighting with himself on what he should do. ‘Do I go to her?’ He thought to himself. ‘Can I mend three years of silence in a week?’
Caught up in the moment, Luke found himself gravitating towards the living room without another thought, muttering a 'fuck it' as his feet moved of their own accord.
It was as if he were being drawn to her, like a moth to a flame. He paused just a few feet away, clearing his throat tentatively. She was so lost in thought, her gaze fixed on the hypnotic rhythm of the ocean, that she didn't hear his approaching footsteps until his voice broke through her reverie.
"It's good to see you again," he said, his voice low and warm.
Y/N turned, her heart leaping into her throat as she came face to face with Luke. Up close, he was even more striking, his features sharper and more defined than she remembered.
"Luke," she breathed, his name feeling both foreign and familiar on her tongue. "Yeah, it is good to see you. It's been a while."
He smiled, a lopsided grin that sent a flutter of excitement through her chest. "Two years, give or take," he said softly, his gaze never leaving hers. "You look... amazing by the way."
Y/N felt a blush creep up her neck, a warmth that had nothing to do with the tropical climate. "Thanks," she managed to choke out. "You look better, happier..."
There was a beat of silence as they drank in each other's presence, the weight of the years that had passed palpable between them.
Y/N's mind raced, desperately searching for the right words, the perfect way to bridge the gap that had grown. There was so much she wanted to say, so many questions she longed to ask, but the words seemed to catch in her throat, trapped behind the turbulent surge of emotions.
Luke, too, seemed to be grappling with his own thoughts, his brow furrowed slightly as he studied her face, as if trying to commit every detail to memory.
"I saw you play the other week, I'm happy things are working out for you," Y/N began, looking between his face and their friends running on the beach.
"You saw the game?" Luke questioned, his expression shifting to one of shock.
"I was there in person," she admitted, a faint smile playing on her lips.
"Wait, what...How come you didn't say hi?" he pressed, a hint of vulnerability creeping into his voice.
Y/N felt a flush of embarrassment creep up her neck. "I saw you with some girls, didn't want to interrupt," she confessed, her gaze dropping for a moment before meeting his eyes again.
Luke let out a soft chuckle, a teasing grin spreading across his face. "So you were stalking me, huh?" he teased.
The familiar banter brought a smile to Y/N's face, the tension easing ever so slightly. "I was just watching, sugar," she murmured, the endearment slipping out before she could stop herself.
The moment the words left her lips, Y/N felt a wave of mortification wash over her. She hadn't used that name in three years, and one casual encounter with Luke had her mind instantly reverting to the intimacy of their past. Biting her lip, she averted her gaze, silently willing the ground to open up and swallow her.
Luke, however, seemed to revel in the familiar moniker, his expression softening as a hint of nostalgia flickered across his features.
"It's good to hear you say that again," he admitted quietly, his hand reaching out to gently brush against hers, a spark of electricity crackling between them at the fleeting touch.
The spell was broken by the arrival of Damien, the groom-to-be, who drunkenly stumbled onto Luke, clapping him on the back and pulled him into a boisterous conversation with the group outside.
…
Fat raindrops pelted against the windows as a rumbling clap of thunder rolled overhead. Y/N stood under the covered porch, watching in amusement as the rest of the group made a mad dash from the beach toward the houses front door.
Taylor was bringing up the rear, squealing as the downpour quickly soaked through her thin t-shirt. She reached the porch last, bangs plastered to her forehead and mascara smudged under her eyes. Shivering, she flung open the door and stumbled inside, leaving a trail of wet footprints behind her.
Y/N chuckled and followed Taylor into the cozy entryway. The others were already shaking out their damp hair and peeling off soaked outer layers.
Taylor pouted as a few stray droplets rolled down her neck, then broke into a impish grin. She extended her arms out to her sides, approaching Y/N.
"Don't you dare!" Y/N warned with a laugh, backing away. Her heel caught on a throw rug and she pitched backward, eyes squeezing shut in anticipation of the hard floor.
Instead, a pair of strong arms encircled her waist, catching her against a firm chest. Y/N's eyes fluttered open to find Luke's concerned gaze inches from her own.
His rain-drenched curls were flattened against his forehead and rivulets of water trailed down his chiseled jawline. His chest heaved as he caught his breath from running inside to escape the downpour.
"Whoa there, you okay?" His warm breath fanned across her cheeks. Up close, Y/N caught the scent of his cologne mingling with the fresh, earthy smells of the rainstorm.
Taylor failed to smother a giggle, shaking out her wet hair like a dog. "I think someone could use a towel."
Luke kept his arm looped protectively around Y/N's waist as he shot Taylor a playful glare. "Yeah, if someone hadn't tried drenching her with a bear hug."
Y/N felt her cheeks growing warm as Luke kept his arm looped around her waist, holding her body flush against his. His taut abdomen pressed into her back, and she was hyper-aware of his warm breath fanning across her neck. Y/N forced a laugh. "Exactly, it's all your fault."
"What's with all the racket?" Damien emerged from one of the doorways, tousling his wild, disheveled hair. He smirked at the intimate way Luke was embracing Y/N. "Oh brother, would you two just screw already and get it over with!"
Y/N's eyes went wide at Damien's crude joke, but Luke just chuckled lowly. His thumb stroked an absent-minded circle into her hipbone, sending a shiver down her spine.
"You staying up for a bit?" Luke asked in a low rumble, realizing he still had Y/N enveloped in his arms. "Not tired, Lukey?" She teased back, relaxing against his solid frame.
Luke's chocolate eyes danced with amusement. "I was tired until I saw you again. I think we have some catching up to do." He flashed her a bright, lopsided smile that made her knees go weak.
…
Taking her hand, Luke led Y/N away from the others down a hallway, throwing a roguish wink over his shoulder at Damien before disappearing around the corner. She held her breath while Luke led her into the sunroom.
It was the epitome of cozy comfort - golden lamps bathed the space in a warm glow, and the large spare bed was piled high with plush blankets and pillows.
Luke started moving towards the inviting bed, but Y/N quickly arched one leg out to block his path. "Ah ah, your shirt is still drenched. You can't get on the bed like that."
He flashed her a roguish grin before grasping the hem of his t-shirt and tugging it smoothly up and over his head in one fluid motion.
Y/N's eyes widened as his toned torso and chiseled abs were revealed. He tossed the soaked shirt aside carelessly and settled onto the bed, leaving a respectable distance between them.
Y/N instantly regretted speaking up. She couldn't believe the casual, unhesitating way he had stripped off his shirt right in front of her, as if they were still intimately involved.
A flush crept up her neck as memories flooded back of when they were dating - she had been an awestruck teenager, hungrily drinking in every newly exposed inch of his body as they learned each other.
Now she was the flustered one, feeling like that bashful girl again as she took in the sight of his muscular build, the breadth of his shoulders tapering down to those abs she used to love tracing with her fingertips...
Y/N swallowed hard as Luke reclined back on the plush bed, muscles rippling underneath tanned skin. He propped himself up on one elbow, giving her an unobstructed view of his chiseled torso and abs.
"See something you like?" Luke's voice was a deep rumble, vibrating straight through Y/N. He arched one brow cockily, the corner of his lips curling into that trademark.
Heat bloomed across Y/N's cheeks as memories of their past intimacies flooded her mind. She averted her gaze, trying to regain her composure. "Don't flatter yourself."
Luke tsked, shaking his head slowly. "Now, now. No need to be shy, gorgeous." He patted the space next to him invitingly. "Why don't you come join me? We have years of catching up to do."
Y/N's pulse fluttered wildly as she wavered, torn between the warmth pooling in her belly and her lingering hurt over how things had ended with Luke. Throwing caution to the wind, she settled gingerly on the edge of the bed, back ramrod straight.
"Relax." Luke's fingertips ghosted along her arm, raising goosebumps. "You're so tense. Come here. Let me help you with that..."
His hands found her shoulders, kneading the tight muscles there with strong strokes. Y/N stifled a moan, hating how easily he could still unravel her with his touch alone. She felt him shift closer until his bare chest was a hair's breadth away, the heat radiating off him in waves.
"There, that's better," Luke purred in her ear, his mouth so close she could feel the whisper of his lips against her skin. "Now, why don't you tell me everything I've missed?"
Y/N shivered at the feel of Luke's breath fanning warmly against her neck. She forced herself to remain still, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing how flustered he made her.
"So," she began, proud that her voice came out stronger than she felt. "Where should we start?”
Y/N stifled a moan as Luke's strong hands kneaded the tense muscles of her shoulders and upper back. She cursed the traitorous shiver that rippled through her at the feeling of his bare chest brushing against her arm.
She had to gather her wits, made difficult by the intoxicating combination of his heated touch and masculine musk surrounding her. "Well, I finally moved out of that cramped apartment into an actual house back in Michigan."
"A home all to yourself?" Luke's hands stilled momentarily, drawing her gaze to the admiring look smoldering in his eyes. "I'm impressed”
His fingertips trailed scorching paths down her arms as he resettled behind her, the solid wall of his chest pressing against her back once more. Y/N bit her lip against the fresh wave of arousal cresting through her.
She pressed on, “anyway the job has been great. Challenging but great. Though I did have a boyfriend for a while in the midst of everything..."
The words had an immediate effect on Luke. His jaw tightened perceptibly and his eyes flashed dangerously, like a wolf catching the scent of a threat. "A boyfriend, huh?" His voice was low and controlled, but Y/N could hear the undercurrent of primal possessiveness.
She nodded, holding his intense gaze. "Yeah, we dated for several months after you...left."
Luke seemed to wrestle with reining in his reaction. When he spoke again, his tone was carefully measured. "I see. And what became of this...boyfriend?"
Y/N shrugged one shoulder casually, though her pulse was thundering in her ears. "It didn't work out. The passion wasn't really there, at least not on my end."
Luke tsked again, making that infuriatingly sexy sound. At that, some of the tension drained from Luke's frame and a faint smirk played across his lips. "No passion, huh? Can't relate."
His fingers trailed up the side of her neck, sending sparks ricocheting across her sensitized skin. In one smooth motion, he reached out and cupped her jawline, thumb brushing her parted lips. His lips brushed the shell of her ear as he murmured, "I missed you every single day, you know."
"I want you back. However, I can have you." His calloused thumb stroked her lower lip as he inched closer, arousal darkening his eyes to a deep black. "Let me make up for lost time..."
…
Lmk what you think please! Part 2?
#luke hughes#nhl#new jersey devils#luke hughes x reader#luke hughes x you#luke hughes x y/n#luke hughes fic#luke hughes one shot#luke hughes smut#nhl x reader#nhl x you#nhl x y/n#nhl fic#nhl one shot#nhl smut#fluff#angst#masterlist#x reader#lh43#nj devils#luke hughes fanfiction#luke hughes imagine
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Inexperienced reader marked up Willy's neck while sitting on his lap. His desperate groans forced her to bite down harder than she had before as they grinded against one another. She felt her heart rate speed up as her breathing became shallow. Willy's body began to tense up as he let out a loud moan. She released her grip and pulled away, her cheeks burning. Are you gonna try & hide them?" You say, pulling away with a pout on your lips. Willy shook his head, a mischievous smile on his face as he pointed his index finger at her. "No way," he said, his voice a low whisper. "I'm gonna show them off." They are both possessive in their own right.
Mmm yes, they're definitely possessive babe! And we them for it 😉
So, this chapter turned out to be rather soft, yet still filled with loads of smut - and I just hope you all enjoy it 😊🤍
[casual outing] [Hair tucking]
Tropes & warnings; jealous!Willy, Jealous!reader, Smut 18+; fingering, handjob, penetrative sex (p in v), hair pulling, light spanking, cum inside, oral sex (m receiving), more penetrative sex (p in vi), cum shot, praise!kink;
Word count; 5.6K
"God morgon, prinsessa," = Good morning, princess
"God morgon, min prins," = Good morning, my prince
「Inexperienced!reader x Willy」
Taglist; @couldawouldashoulda50 @findapenny @Fortheloveofnylander @justwanderingbutneverlost
-
All good boys go to heaven - But bad boys bring heaven to you pt XV I William Nylander 🖋️⚡️
Navigating life as an NHL girlfriend always came with its share of highs and lows. And as the regular season drew to a close and the playoffs loomed closer, you found yourself experiencing the bitter side of the journey.
Your feelings for your boyfriend William Nylander remained steadfast regardless, yet the strain on your relationship was becoming palpable.
Describing the final weeks of March as tough felt like an understatement; victories against the Oilers followed by losses to the Hurricanes and the Devils, then another win against the Capitals and the Sabres. It was an emotional rollercoaster for everyone involved.
And after each game, you did your utmost to either console William or provide him with unwavering support. But it wasn't always a straightforward task.
While William typically kept his emotions in check in public, behind closed doors, he was gradually becoming more open. The topic was somewhat delicate, with several small discussions sparked by his seemingly too calm demeanour, yet you encouraged him to let it out.
As you'd discuss the games on your way home, he'd often brush it off, insisting that everything was fine, and they simply needed to perform better next time. And he wasn't entirely wrong. It was perhaps the healthiest mindset to maintain mental stability. Yet, beneath the surface, you sensed there was more to the story, something simmering beneath his composed exterior.
But when William avoided delving deeper into the matter, you decided it was best to table it, at least for the time being.
As April began, the stakes grew higher than ever. The Toronto Maple Leafs teetered on the edge of playoffs, demanding undivided attention to games and training. Consequently, you found yourself inadvertently assuming the role of a housewife, managing grocery runs, meal preparation, and dog-walking duties, especially when William's trainer couldn't spare the time. And balancing your own work responsibilities with being a supportive hockey girlfriend was gradually becoming overwhelming.
Just weeks ago, amidst some wonderful moments shared with William, discussions ventured into territories like finances and the integration of your lives, leading you to make the decision to give up your apartment and fully commit to living with him.
However, as tensions simmered within the walls of your spacious condo, each evening seemingly hotter with unresolved arguments, you reached a breaking point. So you opted to spend a few days at your own place. It wasn't about avoiding William but rather acknowledging the toll these conflicts were taking on you, and recognising you needed a breather before it got too tense.
You knew the conversations weren't too bad, at least not as per what some of the other girlfriends and wives had shared with you. It was simply around this time of year when the players tend to turn everything into a debate at home. Yet it felt as if the world would come crashing down if you kept it going.
It would typically start with you attempting to console William, and then it’d escalate.
"Come on, Willy, just talk to me – that's what I'm here for,” you spoke firmly.
"There's nothing to talk about. Just leave it, y/n,” he avoided your attempt for a conversation.
"Look, it's obviously bothering you – I can sense it..."
"Oh, so now you can feel what I feel? Great talent there, y/n..." William almost snorted.
"That's not fair, Willy... All I want is to try and help..."
"But there's nothing you can do to help! It is what it is."
"Stop saying that! All I want is to support you – there's no need for you to be a dick about it!"
"Well, that's just how it is! You knew that when you got into a relationship with me..."
"Yes! I knew this would be a challenging time, and I was prepared for it – but you also knew you were getting into a relationship, so now you have to accept that you're not alone in this anymore. I'm here to support you, William Nylander, whether you like it or not!"
And with that, the discussion came to a close. It was a delicate balance, wanting to show support while giving William the space he needed. Meanwhile, he needed to understand that you would always be there for him, ready to lend a listening ear, and he couldn't simply push you away when he didn't want to confront his emotions.
So, after a few trial-and-error attempts, you somewhat figured it out.
Yet, stepping into your familiar home brought a sense of relief. Within your own walls, away from the chaos of hockey and media scrutiny, and the unanswerable questions at work about the team's performance, you found tranquillity.
Being apart from your boyfriend for a few days, even though you were in the same city, wasn't easy. But it felt necessary.
And for William, it did provide some focus on his training and the upcoming match against the Canadiens.Deep down, he understood that you weren't trying to leave him, though a part of him feared it. He recognised that you needed time and space, just as he often did, to concentrate on matters beyond the minor disputes at home.
And as the Leafs returned from Montreal, having officially secured their place in the playoffs, it felt like things were returning to normal. Back in your shared home, wrapped in each other's arms, it was pure celebration. You were practically inseparable upon his return, elated from the victory.
-
Sunday was solely dedicated to celebration, and in his role as a gracious host and teammate, Mitch had extended an invitation to the team for dinner at his restaurant. It was meant to be a relaxed evening, bearing in mind the upcoming game against the Penguins the following day, and with the tense and challenging times ahead, everyone saw it as an opportunity to enjoy some calm before the storm.
However, as you moved about the condo, getting ready for the evening proved to be a bit of a challenge.
"Willy," you giggled as you struggled to put on your outfit, standing in the walk-in closet wearing nothing but your underwear. "You really need to let go so I can finish up."
"Hmm," he hummed as he embraced you, burying his face in your neck and planting kisses while his hands wandered over your body, eventually settling on his favourite spot: your ass. "But then you'll just put on clothes... and I prefer you without..." he teased, pulling back to meet your gaze with a mischievous grin.
"Well, I'm sorry, but that would be highly inappropriate for a restaurant outing," you chuckled as you gently wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your body lightly against his.
"Or... maybe we skip the dinner... and just stay in here, where we can both be naked," he suggested seductively, and you couldn't help but smile and shake your head gently.
"You can be such a brat sometimes – this is your team, Willy, and we both know you'd love to be with them for dinner," you reasoned with a playful glint in your eye. While the idea of staying home, naked and cuddled up with William was tempting, you also recognised the importance of gatherings like tonight's.
"Hmm," William merely hummed. "I suppose I'll have to... maybe then, try and persuade you."
William's chuckle was nothing short of cheeky and seductive, and you couldn't help but emit a squeak as he hoisted you over his shoulder, carrying you to the bedroom where he playfully tossed you onto the mattress. It was a typical Nylander move, and once he had that dark look in his eyes, there was no stopping him from giving in to the sexual tension, from feeling him inside you as he elicited cries and moans from your lips.
And tonight, even before dinner, was no exception.
As William captured your lips with his, you were immediately drawn into his touch, completely captivated as his tongue danced with yours. Your lips moved in sync, your hands clutching his blonde locks tightly as his body pressed against yours, igniting a hunger and intensity filled with raw lust and desire. And before long, he freed his already hard member from his boxers, discarding your lacy underwear in the process.
You knew this wouldn't be one of those drawn-out sessions where William took his time eating you out, ensuring you reached climax multiple times before satisfying himself. Instead, it was a quick, eager, and playful encounter, where you started out by stroking his shaft, eliciting moans from him, while he moistened two fingers with saliva and inserted them into your core.
The kisses were fervent, occasionally interrupted by moans and heavy breaths. Hands explored each other's bodies, drawing each other closer until William abruptly pulled away. And in one swift motion, he turned you around, knelt behind you, lifted your ass, and entered you.
"Fuck yes..." he groaned deeply as he effortlessly filled you, hitting all the right spots with ease.
"Mmm, yes, Willy..." you moaned in tandem with his deep sounds, quickly succumbing to primal passion. Your fingers gripped the sheets beneath you, while William's hands firmly grasped your hips as he thrust into your warmth. It was far from romantic; it was raw, unbridled passion as William intensified his pace, his hips colliding with yours, his heavy breaths mingling with your loud cries.
William was simply overcome with desire for your body, but knowing he wasn't one to climax too quickly, he also knew he had to exert force to prevent the encounter from dragging on.
And caught in the heat of the moment, he couldn't restrain his actions. His thrusts were powerful and unrelenting, his hand finding your long hair and gripping it tightly as he increased his speed.
"Fuck... Willy!" you cried out as he piston deeper and faster with each thrust. Pleasure surged through you, tears threatening to spill from the sheer intensity as your body surrendered to his forceful advances. Your core clenched around his relentless shaft, your walls overstimulated, and your cunt dripping with every movement. "Shiii- Willy... Oh god, I'm gonn—"
You couldn't even form coherent words as he pulled your head back, intensifying his movements even further. And you were certain his thrusts would leave a mark on your skin, yet in that moment, you couldn't care less.
William's actions were so fierce and dominant that you had to close your eyes and surrender to him completely. Your body belonged to him, and you had no desire to challenge his power. Instead, you allowed ecstasy to consume you entirely, your moans growing louder and louder as your orgasm surged through your body, mind, and soul, causing you to scream his name for all to hear.
"Fuck, yes... that's my good girl," William praised, maintaining his movements as he felt his own climax nearing. "I fucking love this ass..." And with a swift motion, he let go of your hip to deliver a firm smack to your cheek.
Your wet core seemed tailor-made for his cock as he pounded into you with incredible force, his shaft drenched as it slid in and out of you, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing in the room. With each thrust, he increased his speed, pushing himself closer to the edge, and his deep grunts filled the air as he shut his eyes and moaned deeply, releasing himself into your depths.
The experience was nothing short of amazing and intense. It took a few minutes for both of you to catch your breath and regain your strength before slowly disentangling yourselves from the position. No words were necessary. Your core was sore and tingling, coated with William's release as he withdrew, yet your mind was in a blissful state, completely consumed by the rush.
And William couldn't help but admire his handiwork as he noticed the slight redness on your skin from his actions. With a playful grin spreading across his lips, he gently caressed your cheek before placing a tender kiss on it.
"Fucking love this ass," he repeated, this time softer and filled with desire, causing you to look back at him with a chuckle.
"You're a real problem, Nylander..."
"What do you mean?" he chuckled darkly.
"Look what you've done. Now we both have to shower again and get dressed, meaning we'll be late for dinner..."
It was a familiar scenario. William was notorious on the team for always being late, and for the past four months, you had been one of the main reasons for that. Your sex life had always been adventurous, but it was the spontaneity that made it even more fun. And William made no effort to hide it from anyone.
"Well, then we better get moving," he simply chuckled before getting off the bed with a wide grin.
-
"Finally, you guys decided to show up!" Auston exclaimed as you entered, everyone already seated.
"Still running late, Willy," Mitch chimed in with a chuckle.
"Yeah, but I bet it's not entirely his fault this time," Järnkrok added with a grin and a wink, causing you to blush slightly as you couldn't deny the truth. Yet, you were quick with a retort.
"Well, at least he's getting some action, unlike some others," you said with a cocky smile, eliciting loud 'oooohhhh's from the players, with William laughing loudly beside you.
And the evening unfolded beautifully, as always. Mitch and Stephanie were excellent hosts, and the upscale restaurant buzzed with nothing but laughter and conversations. The delicious food delighted your taste buds, and the atmosphere was overall filled with joy.
And as everyone anticipated the approaching game, it was evident that everyone needed this evening to unwind and simply enjoy each other's company. Yet, one small detail disrupted your comfort.
"Hey, are you okay?" William whispered as he noticed your slight movements in your seat.
"Hmm," you simply nodded before leaning closer to him. "Though... I'm a little sore, Willy," you whispered, unable to suppress a chuckle.
"Really?" he raised an eyebrow, flashing a satisfied smirk that earned an eye-roll from you.
"Yeah... you were a bit rough, mister," you smiled.
"Hmm, thought you liked it when I'm rough," he grinned, a statement you couldn't really refute. A significant part of your sex life often involved dominant and submissive play, and truth be told you had no complaints.
"Hmm, maybe I do," you softly admitted. "It's just... not easy to sit when your lady parts have been pounded like that..."
Biting his lower lip, William couldn't resist voicing his naughty thoughts. "Well, then I suppose we'll just have to keep practicing until you get used to it."
Even among close friends and their families, the two of you couldn't control your banter. However, as the night progressed, there was a subtle shift in the atmosphere.
After the third course, you joined a few of the ladies in the bathroom, engaging in heartfelt conversations and sharing experiences from the past few weeks.
"Don't worry, y/n," Aryne spoke sweetly. "It's just the playoffs weighing on him. William will be back to his usual self in no time – it just requires a bit more patience from our side this time of year." The other girls nodded in agreement.
Their words were comforting and reassuring. Being your first time dating a professional athlete, you needed their encouragement and support. And after all, most of them had dealt with their husbands and boyfriends throughout their careers.
"How about a drink?" Tessa then suggested with a smile, earning enthusiastic agreement from the group, including you.
And as you all headed to the bar for drinks, any worries seemed to fade away. Amidst laughter and playful jokes about how the ladies needed drinks to cope with their men, you felt completely at ease and comfortable.
That was, until you suddenly felt someone's gaze on you. And it wasn't your boyfriend's.
A few feet away, a rather handsome man was looking in your direction. Though he could have been staring at any woman in the group, you couldn't help but feel a shiver run down your spine as you turned your head and met his eyes, and he offered you a smile. It wasn't overly direct or forward; just a man trying to flirt with a woman from across the room.
However, almost instinctively, while trying not to consciously reciprocate the flirting, you soon felt a pair of hands on you. And this time, it was your boyfriend's.
He didn't say a word. William's hand simply found its way to your ass, where it belonged, as he stood close to you, flashing you a sweet smile before planting a kiss on your cheek. You didn't even have to look to know that he was eyeing the man who had been attempting to flirt with you, sending him a clear message with a look that said, 'she's mine,' while discreetly giving your cheek a gentle squeeze.
And you couldn't deny how good it made you feel. Knowing that William was boldly asserting your relationship status to the world had you feeling captivated. Especially since you were aware of the numerous girls who longed to be with him, fantasising about your breakup so they could swoop in. But William didn't hide the fact that he was taken, and that made you smile.
Yet, a small part of you felt the temptation to play with fire.
"Feeling a little jealous, are we?" you chuckled lightly as you sipped your drink, William's hand still firmly on your cheek, while more people joined the group at the bar.
"Mmm, he wants what's mine, and I don't like that," William huskily whispered under his breath.
"Yours? Willy, I'm not anyone's property," you raised an eyebrow, but he simply chuckled darkly.
"Yes, you are," he smirked. "It's part of the deal of being with me. I give you a place to stay, and in return, this belongs to me."
His words ignited another arousal within you, despite having just experienced a wonderful orgasm a few hours earlier.
"Oh, so that's how you see it? Hmm, then maybe I should reconsider giving up my apartment," you challenged him, and it seemed to awaken something primal within your boyfriend.
"No - you can't back out now. I've claimed your ass, and now you're mine."
There was a silent exchange of glances as the intensity of the moment lingered, William's hand remaining firmly in place. However, when Mitch announced the arrival of the next course, you both silently agreed to set aside your playful banter for the time being.
-
It was all fun and games between you and William. Well, most of the time at least.
He'd assert his possessiveness over you, you'd playfully challenge him, and then he'd assert his dominance in a sexual manner, reminding you that you did, in fact, belong to him. However, as Monday rolled around and it was time for the Leafs to face off against the Penguins, the dynamics seemed to shift.
The game was nothing short of exhilarating, but it was almost too intense for your liking. After Pittsburgh scored the first goal in the opening period, Kniesy retaliated in the second, followed by Auston putting the Leafs in the lead in the third. But just when victory seemed within reach, the Penguins fought back, forcing the game into overtime. Fortunately, McCabe saved the day, securing a 3-2 victory for the Leafs on home turf, boosting their confidence before their upcoming trip to New Jersey.
But despite the win, a slight unease lingered within you as you prepared to meet your boyfriend in the hallways after the match. Normally, you prided yourself on not being the jealous type of girlfriend who felt insecure when her boyfriend talked to other girls. However, there was something about this particular girl that set your mind spinning.
She was undeniably stunning, her smile radiant and her eyes sparkling as her brown hair cascaded gracefully down her back. And seeing her laughing and chatting with William sparked a small wave of guilt within you.
Nevertheless, you maintained your composure. Slowly, you approached your laughing boyfriend and gently wrapped your arms around his sturdy frame.
"Oh, hey babe," he chuckled, still engrossed in his conversation with the beautiful girl, only briefly acknowledging your presence.
"What's so funny?" you smiled, trying to join in on the conversation.
"I was just telling Willy here about some of the comments people have left on his Rogers' commercial," the girl explained with a sweet tone and smile. "They're just hilarious."
And William continued to laugh, his signature laughter filling the hallway.
"Oh yeah, those were indeed funny," you tried to laugh along, though the amusement quickly faded.
"Anyway, I better get going," the brunette smiled before bidding farewell to William.
There was a moment of silence as William's laughter subsided and he turned to face you.
"What?" he asked innocently.
"What what?" you replied, feigning ignorance of the fact that he had caught on to your jealousy.
"You know what... you're being jealous," he pointed out with a smirk.
"Well, of course I am," you retorted, your voice firm as you gently crossed your arms over your chest. "My boyfriend's chatting with a gorgeous girl after a win, smiling like he's a teenager seeing boobs for the first time, and acting as if I didn't notice."
"Oh, come on, she's just a journalist, babe," William chuckled nonchalantly.
"Well then why isn't she asking you questions along with the other journalists over there?" you pointed to the station where players usually gave their post-game statements.
"She just came up to me and asked me if..." he trailed off, stopping himself before he dug himself deeper.
"Asking you what?" you raised an eyebrow.
"Nothing..." he tried to brush it off, but he knew it was futile.
"Well, if it's nothing, then why can't you tell me?" Your voice softened, tinged with vulnerability as you were reminded of other girls who were interested in your boyfriend.
And letting out a deep sigh, William knew honesty was the best policy. "She asked if I wanted to grab a cup of coffee together..."
"Oh..." you paused for a moment. "And you said yes?"
"Well, yeah, I mean, it doesn't mean anything - she's just doing her job," he chuckled lightly.
"Right... her job... so that means she's also getting coffee with all the other players?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.
"Um... no, I don't think so... but that's because she was there when I did the commercial thing... and she's just... I don't know, catching up, I guess."
You tried your best not to let your frustration show, but William was already aware of your feelings.
"Hey, babe, it's not like she's making any moves - I mean, she's a journalist, she knows I have a girlfriend..." he flashed you a confident smile, and though you didn't trust the journalist's intentions, you trusted your boyfriend.
Just as you expected him to trust you despite other men hitting on you.
So, you let it go and simply let out a calm sigh. "Right, how about we go home then, and I'll remind you just how much I love this relationship," you smirked up at him, gently wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a kiss.
"Mmm, I don't think I can say no to that," William chuckled, before bidding goodbye to the others and leaving.
You already started the foreplay in the car, teasing his thigh higher and higher until you were close to his groin. Then, in the lift, he couldn't resist, eagerly kissing you as he pressed you against the wall. So, when you entered the condo, you took charge, grabbing him by the collar of his jacket, flashing him a lustful smirk as you pulled him towards the bedroom.
William didn't resist; he enjoyed your attempt at dominance. But as soon as you were both in nothing but underwear, he reclaimed his dominant role.
And of course, there was no other way for you to express your desire for your boyfriend than by kneeling in front of him in your fine underwear, opening your mouth as your eyes pleaded for him to feed you with his hard cock.
With you kneeling before him, eager to take him deep into your throat, William felt like he was in heaven. Your warm mouth worked wonders around his throbbing cock, and the small gagging sounds you made whenever he pushed a little too far only added to his pleasure.
You were his submissive, and your sole desire was to please him.
"Mmm, baby, you're so good," he hummed under his breath as you continued to bob your head, focused solely on breathing through your nose as you took him deeper and deeper. Occasionally, you glanced up at him through your lashes, watching as his muscles tensed under your hand, which you used for support while the other stroked his length where your mouth couldn't reach.
But as you pressed yourself further, your nose hitting the pubic hair of his crotch, and you gagged around him, saliva drooling from the corner of your mouth and trailing down your chin, William found it incredibly arousing. He held significant power over you, and the sight thrilled him.
However, as he felt his climax approaching, he knew he wasn't ready to finish just yet. So, instead, he withdrew himself from your wonderful mouth.
"Such a good girl…" he praised softly, before gently guiding you to the bed. But as you moved towards the mattress, you signalled your desire to be on top, and William happily granted your wish.
After removing your underwear, he lay down on his back, and you couldn't help but smile as you straddled his hips. He was already dripping with precum, mixed with your saliva, and your arousal was evident, making it effortless for you to sink down onto his cock and let him fill you up.
"Oh yes, Willy," you moaned as his thick member stretched your entrance, stimulating your walls with every inch.
"Mmm, baby, you feel so good around me," he moaned in harmony, his hands instinctively gripping your hips.
And as your bodies connected, you began to sway your hips, rocking back and forth in sensual motions, your hands finding support on his chest. With each movement, allowing his hardness to glide in and out of your wet core, your moans grew louder. Pleasure rushed through your body, and you increased your pace, your breaths heavy and your mind consumed by sensation.
Then as the intensity grew, your bodies became sweatier and hotter, your vision blurring with each thrust. Addicted to the pleasure, you increased your speed once again, seeking that euphoric high.
"Mmm… shit, Willy," you moaned in a soft cry, your hips moving desperately as your thighs pressed against the man beneath you.
"Yes, älskling… you're such a good girl," William muttered. "Fucking ride me, baby… fucking cum on my dick…"
In the heat of the moment, his words worked like a magic spell, and with a forceful motion, you panted and gasped for air as you reached climax.
You even had to pause your movements, filling your lungs with air as you shut your eyes and cried out his name in pleasure. Your tight muscles pulsed around his shaft as you calmed from the high of your orgasm, your legs trembling from the intensity.
And as you slowly came down from the euphoric state, William sat up, gently pushing his cock a little deeper inside you as he grabbed your hair and pulled you in for a messy kiss.
"Hmm, fucking love it when you make yourself cum on me," he spoke huskily under his breath, and with a smirk adorning your sweaty face, you then started to slowly move your hips again, rocking gently as you kissed his bearded chin and neck, occasionally biting down with your teeth before pulling back.
The room was hot and steamy, and as he felt your cunt pulsating around his member, he felt the need for his own release stirring. So, taking a firm hold of your body, William then turned you both over and pushed your back into the mattress.
In one swift movement, he seized your hands and held them above your head as he began to thrust into you, while your legs instinctively wrapped around his lower body, heels pressing into his skin as you surrendered to his actions. His movements were powerful, yet this time, he attempted to maintain a sense of romance as you exchanged deep, passionate kisses.
Your bodies moved in perfect harmony, allowing him to thrust mercilessly and deeply, pushing you to the edge of overstimulation as he approached his climax. William's grip on your wrists was strong, and as he pounded even faster, you knew he was nearing completion.
"Oh, yes, Willy, cum for me…" you moaned loudly, gasping for breath as you became undone for him.
"Yeah... baby, I'm so close..." he breathed heavily in response. So, with a few more intense thrusts, William withdrew abruptly, knelt back, and ejaculated onto your lower stomach with a deep grunt. "God...," he moaned huskily as he reached a more intense climax than expected, his sticky white cum covering your skin like a canvas.
It was messy, yet incredibly arousing. Your body still trembled as you recovered from the intense sex, and your legs shook as you gradually regained strength. Meanwhile, William caught his breath, admiring his handiwork.
Your body was undeniably stunning, but what he admired most was how well he knew it and how effortlessly he could please you, eliciting loud moans and squirms with his touch.
And as the two of you gradually returned to reality, smiles graced your faces, unable to contain the sense of satisfaction. Additionally, William naturally assisted in tidying up the aftermath by leading you to the bathroom, where he tenderly and leisurely washed your bodies with lukewarm water cascading over the two of you, sharing deep kisses and reaffirming the connection that had united you from the outset. It was the bond that held you together through the peaks and valleys, through all the challenges you encountered as a couple.
As morning broke and William's alarm shattered your peaceful sleep, you couldn't help but smile as you turned to see his serene expression, while William, true to form, didn't immediately wake from the alarm; he was a dedicated snoozer. Yet, what always brought him to full consciousness was your kiss. You ran your fingers gently through his hair, planting soft kisses all over his handsome face until he slowly opened his eyes.
"God morgon, prinsessa," William murmured huskily, still half-asleep.
"God morgon, min prins," you smiled in return.
Despite the early hour, it was a cosy morning, with the passionate warmth from the night before still lingering between you. Any lingering traces of jealousy were overshadowed by the depth of your relationship, dispelling any intrusive negative thoughts.
As you exchanged lazy morning kisses, William's embrace tightened around you, drawing you closer to his body, the warmth emanating from him as you felt his morning hardness pressing against you. And with a smile of your own, you summoned the strength to position yourself on top of him.
William sat up straight, his bare chest pressed against your breasts as he drew you even nearer, deepening the kiss. However, you pulled back slightly, biting your lower lip before licking them seductively, trailing your fingers along his neck where you admired the faint marks from the night before.
Yet, not entirely satisfied with your handiwork, you returned your lips to his skin, your fingers tangling in his hair as he leaned back against the headboard. Despite the early hour, William could already feel himself responding to your touch, the anticipation of being apart from you again igniting a primal craving.
And his desperate groans only spurred you to bite down harder as you allowed your hips to gently grind against his lap. Your heart rate quickened, breaths becoming shallow, while William's body tensed, releasing a loud moan. Then pulling away from his flushed skin, you felt your cheeks flush with heat.
"Hmm," William muttered. "Leaving your mark, are you?" he chuckled mischievously, earning a light nod from you.
"Can't have you walking around without people knowing you have a girlfriend, can we?" you spoke seductively, your fingers delicately tracing the marks you skilfully created.
"And why's that?" William grinned, rhetorically acknowledging the possessiveness stirring within you, mirroring his own.
"Well, maybe there's going to be another journalist trying to grab coffee with you…" you playfully smiled.
"Hmm, yeah, we can't have that, can we," William chuckled, merely acknowledging the playful banter.
There was a brief moment of silence as you both admired each other in the soft morning light, knowing you would only be apart for the day, sharing a tender kiss.
"So," you spoke, pulling away with a pout on your lips, "Are you going to try and hide them?"
But William simply shook his head, a mischievous smile on his face as he gently rubbed his index finger across your lower lip. "No way," he said, his voice a low whisper. "I'm going to show them off."
It was a simple moment, yet it emphasised the possessiveness you both held for each other. Though you trusted each other implicitly, there were still lingering worries in the back of your minds.
You always harboured a nervousness that William might grow bored of you, drawn instead to the other incredibly beautiful women who seemed to appear in his life. Meanwhile, William feared that you might tire of his lifestyle and one day simply decide to leave in pursuit of a more conventional life.
Yet, neither of you had any intentions of parting ways.
#my asks#18+#Inexperienced!reader x Willy#william nylander imagine#nhl smut#wn88 imagine#william nylander smut#nhl hockey imagine#toronto maple leafs imagine#SlutsforPresidentNylander
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9 and 18 with coach!sid please <3
"without ever touching him, how can i be guilty as sin?" & "i can tell when someone wants me" | poetic prompts | warnings: smut (18+ MDNI, i can redo if you don't want smut with these prompts!)
takes place after this fic.
"girl, quit eye fucking and leave some room for the rest of us. i can tell your fantasizing, but i don't blame you."
"i'm not touching him, so how can i be guilty of anything?" y/n co-workers words snap her out of her daze as she teases back. it was the beginning of an emergency staff meeting, the meaning was unknown and it was causing quite the buzz around the gymnasium. teachers, admin, and athletic staff alike were sitting together asking each other what they'd heard, known, or if they were getting fired. there was a heavy level of anxiety sitting in the room amongst them.
"sorry," y/n mumbled and sitting up straight. her friend chuckled beside her. but she couldn't help but stare, it had been a week since their dinner together, and it was all she could think about. she'd had trouble teaching, would zone out when talking to carter, their scandalous encounter was taking over her life.
"what do you think they're gonna talk about?" the other teacher asked sitting next to her, sipping coffee out of her tumbler and scrolling through emails looking for clues. "i think they're gonna talk about staff relationships."
her words made y/n's stomach drop. did it get out? did someone see her car at his house? did carter say something? did carter find out? it's amazing how many questions can run through the brain in just two seconds.
"i heard that the boys tennis coach, thomas, is having an affair with the girls tennis coach. i think one of the players caught them in the athletic offices but they did something to keep the kid quiet." y/n feels her nerves calm down, but not all that much. her eyes met with sidney's and she felt like he was trying to silently tell her something but she couldn't pick up on it. they weren't that connected.
yet.
moments later the superintendent gets on the mic and announces to faculty that in fact, both the girls and boys tennis coach were let go due to their actions. the boys coach resigned, and the girls coach was fired due to threatening the school district since she didn't do anything wrong and she was a single woman.
she felt a ball coil up inside her stomach as the staff were reminded of the policy: relationships among staff must be brought before the board if they occur within the school year. it was a district policy, to keep drama out of the way, and to keep relationships private to the parties benefit. at least, that was the way it was explained.
-
that meeting was bullshit.
sent 10:45 am
y/n's phone pings signaling a text from sidney. she reads it as her students are taking their test. she feels butterflies and anxiety at the same time. her leg bouncing underneath her desk as she plans a reply.
...but what did he mean? was he against the rule, meaning he wanted a relationship? or was it just a waste of time? yes, it was a waste of time.
i know, it could have just been an email.
sent 10:48
he never responds, but she gets too busy with other class periods. she gets lost back in time once more, fantasizing about that night. during lunch break spent in her darkened classroom, a bowl of warmed up soup in front of her as she grades papers until the next class comes through.
but she gets lost, in the deep trance of the memory of him. if she thinks really hard she can still feel his tongue sliding against her slick core, she can feel herself coming undone again at the force of his skilled and talented body.
she can feel his calloused but soft hands sliding down her body, grasping at her breasts while he sucks all of the sweet juice that flows out of her. she remembers her back arching off his wooden dinner table while he lapped at her for at least ten minutes straight, before he slid his thick cock inside of her for another ten.
she's taken out of her daydream by the sound of the school bell. she has three minutes to get herself back in order to teach again. she considers assigning today a reading and catch up day...so she can continue to reminisce.
dinner at my place?
sent 1:23 pm
hell yes
sent 1:24 pm
-
"you're bad at hiding your feelings, y/n." sidney stated, flipping over the steak on the grill and setting his wine glass down on the granite countertop. y/n sat on the barstool across from him, drinking a cocktail she made herself.
"what's that supposed to mean?" she took a bigger swig of the alcohol this time, holding eye contact with him as he leaned onto the countertop with his hands, making himself appear bigger in front of her. it worked.
"i can tell when someone wants me. half the women in that school want me, but you're the only one who went for it." she feels like a crook who was caught. "i know you act like last week didn't happen, but it's all i've been thinking about." now he's standing just inches from her on his back patio, the smell of grilled steak and vegetables filling her brain and the firm but agonizing touch making her go weak.
"it's all i can think about too." his thumb glides across her cheek, his whiskey colored eyes staring into her soul, what it feels like for hours. he bites his lip and she thinks she's gonna pass out.
"tell me what you thought about, maybe we'll reenact it after dinner. can't have you eating cold steak, can i?"
#GIF??? HOLY SHIT#j's writing#coach!sidney#coach!sid#sidney crosby imagine#sidney crosby x reader#sidney crosby smut#sidney crosby blurb#nhl imagine#nhl x reader#nhl smut#hockey imagine#hockey x reader#hockey smut
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𝙎𝙪𝙧𝙫𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝘾𝙖𝙢𝙥 𝙈𝙞𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙜𝙖𝙣; 𝙋𝙧𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙪𝙚
SUMMARY: Inwhich people change, and so does summer camp. Teenagers all spending summer together; with y/n falling in love with no other than Jack Hughes, will rivalry's and rules keep them apart? Or will status and no other than Jack himself, ruin everything?
WARNINGS: 18+ CONTENT *I do not encourage you to go beyond this point if you are sensitive to any further topics. MINORS DNI - Violence, Smut, Indications to smut, Alcohol & substance use, swearing, mentions to serious topics, etc.
NOTE: Welcome to the Prologue, which is the shortest part to this story. I apologize for not making it longer, but this prologue gives a tiny view into what the whole story will be without spoiling it. 🤍
MASTERLIST: main m.list
𝙎𝙪𝙧𝙫𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝘾𝙖𝙢𝙥 𝙈𝙞𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙜𝙖𝙣; 𝙋𝙧𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙪𝙚 - 1k+ words
Camp Michigan; my home away from home each summer since the ripe age of 8 years old. Camp Michigan had been where I spent summers, from being a camper, to now, at 16, attending camp and being a camp counselor with others my age who have been attending ever since we were young - and those new. Being at camp had either been the greatest experience of the one month you’d spend out of your two month break. Or the greatest challenge. Each year, a new decision is made. New memories are formed, and even new connections.
Camp michigan consisted of traditions, our annual yearly sleepover in dining hall, the annual late night swim, dodgeball torty - which always included someone getting injured from how competitive some people would be - the annual bonfire to kick-off the beginning, and my favorite, the treehouse, not so much a tradition, but something I created when I was younger. Only in a place where me and a few other members knew of. It was special, and I would always find myself there whenever I needed a break or a good sleep.
Each year it was one or the other, no inbetween, most of the years I've spent attending camp ever since the age of 8 years old, I found myself leaving with memories to last a life time, having spent my summers making them the greatest experiences of my entire life. That was, until the summer i turned 16, one whole year ago from right now; id been 15, getting on the bus for summer camp, my birthday slowly approaching, which had always been spent at camp, the staff would even get the other campers to help with baking a cake; even though each time it would end up in someone’s face, or awfully decorated, it still meant everything to me. We’d even have a huge party to celebrate; as if most of the summer hadn’t already consisted of fun activities, it was another added to the long list.
That was, until the summer I turned 16.
On my 16th birthday, August 14th, nothing. I mean nothing, no cake, no party, no anything. It was like any other day at camp. Except most of my day had been spent waiting around in my cabin for someone to come tell me it was all some joke, or that a surprise party was being held and they wanted to keep everything a secret. The most I'd gotten was a couple of ‘happy birthdays’ from my close friends, and even some random kids who’d I’d been with for years.
It was my 16th birthday - my sweet 16 at that. And I spent it cooped up in a cabin for most of the day, the night ending with some stupid activity no other than Jack Hughes and his weird counselor group had planned. Which had pissed me off more than anticipated. And I snapped at him. Like a full blown yelling match, he mocked me, and made me cry on my own birthday; we also got in trouble, well, I did. Almost got sent home, actually. From the moment he stepped foot to camp, he went by calling you a series of names you’d rather not elaborate on. He was only older than you by a few months, yet he acted like he had been ancient.
Jack Hughes first summer at camp michigan, was last summer. Yet he’d made friends with almost everyone, except for me and my counselor group. It was an unspoken rivalry that went back - these was always the girls group, and the guys group. Always having a leader; being me for my girls, and Jack for his boys. He’d claimed that title almost immediately, somehow robbing my good friend miles of his seniority, which was supposed to mean he was leader. But no, ‘hot shot Hughes’ flew in, having everything handed to the son of a bitch. I’ve never hated anyone more; rivalry was so on.
He was almost insufferable, I’d always assume his overconfident cocky-act was from his popular hockey captain status which he said he held at school. I couldn’t have cared less, about him or his hockey status. He’d go around acting like he owned the place when he hadn’t even been there a week. The staff loved him, but you were pretty sure that was only because of his ‘charm’, or his flirty attitude, at first, most of your cabin crew had also been head over heels for the new hot boy, but you quickly shut them down with any idea of anything happening between any of cabin A with Cabin B. Rules were rules and a rivalry was a rivalry.
I never did know if he knew it had been your birthday that day, if he planned what he had just because he wanted to make your life a living hell, or if he just genuinely did not know. I wasn’t sure if you’d ever get that answer, and over time I cared less. I’d been too focused on the summer ahead of you and that only. Your 17th would be spent like any other this year. I made sure to plan in advance, for my own sake anyway. This was going to be one of my last years at the camp, I’d be graduating the school year to come, and be moving off to whatever was planned for myself next, so some stupid boys weren’t about to ruin that for me. No matter how many names, or flirtatious things Jack would shoot at me, i had no intent of falling for his fuck boy acts.
For that matter, my good friend, and cabin member, Lacey, had been secretly seeing one of the guys from B cabin, this past summer. Joey. It was well known between the girls cabin, although the boys not so much. A few other girls had spent time with some of the boys, but none went any further in the way Lacey had it out with Joey. A part of me only dreamed of the cliche rivalry love story, yet with the current circumstances, I’d been almost positive that was never, ever going to happen.
Seriously. Imagine, Jack Hughes, and me?
Pffft.
#jack hughes#jack hughes x reader#jack hughes imagine#jack hughes blurb#jack hughes fanfic#jack hughes fic#nhl fanfiction#nhl imagine#luke hughes#quinn hughes#nhl players#trevor zegras#cole caufield#NHL fanfic#hockey fanfiction#hockey fandom#hockey imagine#hockey fic rec#nhl smut#nhl hockey#jack hughes x y/n#hughes brothers
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I’ve loved you three
Summers
Chapter 3
Warnings: language, kissing, mild sexual content, some angst and mentions of manipulative/abusive relationships.
Hello friends! Happy this is starting to catch on a bit. @cellythefloshie s chapter should be up soon! When it’s posted I’ll link it here!
Thanks!! Enjoy and let me know what you think.
The grocery store was mostly empty at this early morning hour and Madison was thankful because she had Seth on the brain.
They’d parted ways last night with more kissing and she hadn’t seen him since then.
And she was kind of glad.
She hadn’t even begun to process what had happened the night before and was still not totally sure it wasn’t a dream. The situation with her and Seth could go one of two ways. It could either be a wonderful amazing adventure or she could run the risk of losing a lifelong friend. It really just came down whether it was worth the risk, which she already decided it was. But it wasn’t only up to her. She had no idea how he was feeling.
If she hadn’t been thinking about Seth, she would have been paying closer attention, but she didn’t even see him coming till it was too late.
“Madison?”
She turned and felt something that could only be described as dread start to settle in her stomach.
Darren was standing a few feet away, fake smile plastered on his face, the same one he wore the very first time she ever met him. She did not return it.
“Hey how are you?” He moved closer and she took a small step back. Annoyance flickered across his face.
“Fine.” She moved to walk away from him but when he followed and she turned to face him fully, arms crossed with a frown.
“Is uh-is Harper here?” He asked glancing over her shoulder.
She scoffed “No Darren. She’s not here, but I’m guessing you knew that already. Leave my sister alone.”
“How is she?”
“Did you hear what I just said? It’s none of your business. If you wanted to know that I guess you should have spent the last 6 years treating her better.” Madison’s brows were pulled low over her eyes which were blazing with anger. She wanted to punch him right in the throat and run him over with the cart.
“You don’t know anything!” He snapped loudly at her, drawing the attention of the few people nearby.
But Madison wasn’t having it and stood her ground.
“You might have been able to bully my sister but don’t think for one second you’re going to bully me.” Madison was glaring at him “Stay away from Harper. If you ever really loved her you’ll let her move on. Or if you want to tempt fate show up to the house. I dare you.” Madison smiled a little and for the first time Darren’s confidence faltered. He knew better.
“Can you tell her-“
“Fuck off.” She turned away from him, heart beating loudly in her chest. Darren didn’t scare her, but her sister potentially having to suffer for it did.
She didn’t want to tell Harper and upset her but it would also upset her if she didn’t and Harper found out later. She was glad she had elected to take the grocery store errand and that Harper didn’t or it would be a very different conversation they’d be having
Madison checked out, not even sure she'd gotten everything, and made her way home, noting Seth’s car absent from his driveway, but that Harper’s car was parked in theirs.
She made her way very slowly inside, dreading the conversation she was going to be forced to have with her, and found her at the island in the kitchen.
Harper glanced up with a big smile but it faded a little when she saw her face “You didn’t hit another car in the parking lot, did you?” she teased.
Maddie shook her head and cleared her throat “I ran into Darren while I was at the store, i was just grabbing-“ she sighed, it didn’t really matter what she was grabbing “Nevermind, when he approached me, he acted like he just happened to be there at the same time, which was fine, until he started looking around, waiting, as if you were just going to walk up to us right there in the store, and when you didn’t he got really….” Maddie trailed off “Angry. He started asking where you were, how he could contact you. If I could give you a message-“
Harper’s face was unreadable, and Maddie wasn’t sure if she was mad or sad or even maybe a little bit scared. It had upset Maddie that she’d seen him and he made a huge scene like that, but it would upset her more if this upset Harper.
Sighing, Harper ran her hand through her hair, and sat down with her sister at the island shoulders slouched “He knows where I am,” she sighed, “He’s just too scared to come here.”
They shared a smile and Maddie said, “Dad.”
“Exactly. I can be safe here-” Maddie frowned hoping that Harper wasn’t alluding to what she thought she was “Hey,” she took her sister’s arm, “He never hurt me. Not in the way you think. And he didn’t hurt you, right?”
“I would have cut his hand right off if he had touched me.” Harper laughed and hugged Maddie to her.
”You still going out with your friends?”
Maddie nodded. She had lunch planned with friends mostly as a distraction and to give her some extra thinking time before she saw Seth later on. She would be prepared by then.
“Good, you go get ready, I’ll put the groceries away. Before you go, my new number is on the fridge, and if you need me and I’m not in here, I’ll be by the pool.”
Madison stood and squeezed her hand “I’m really glad you left him Harper. He never deserved you.”
She made her way through the house and up the steps to her room to ready herself for lunch with friends.
**********
Seth was sitting on his bed with his arms crossed staring at the opposite wall. His house was completely silent, which was unusual under normal circumstances but now with Svech living there it was even more. He’d watched Madison leave early, and then leave again and had been sitting in silence since then thinking about her.
He’d done a lot of reflection over the last few hours, having not slept barely at all, and he’d come to the conclusion that he and Madison just made sense. The writing had been on the wall for years and he’d been so wrapped up in hockey that he hadn't been playing close enough attention. If he had it wouldn’t have taken him 21 summers to realize that there’d always been something there just under the surface. It couldn’t be undone now, and it almost made him laugh at how dumb he was. Things he’d forgotten about were starting to come back to him. Most of their close friends knew that their friendship was strictly a friendship. But there had been some questions about them and their relationship over the years.
“So what’s with you and Madison Alexander?”
Seth looked up and frowned at Meghan, a girl he’d been kind of hanging out with for the last week or so. She was picking at a manicured fingernail and glanced up.
“What do you mean?”
She shrugged and crossed her arms “Well you guys seem close and she’s the most popular girl in school.” She said it with some bitterness. Madison was in fact the most popular girl in school and for good reason. She was gorgeous, friendly and approachable, and Seth could tell Meghan was jealous. Madison’s popularity wasn’t anything new to him though and he never really thought about her the way others did. But Meghan was obviously insecure and he could sort of understand why.
She was popular but not Madison popular and the one times they’d crossed paths Meghan had been standoffish. Maddie seemed to not notice, but Seth did and it was starting to make sense now.
“And that’s got what to do with anything?”
Meghan shrugged “Just wondering.”
“Mads is my oldest friend. We basically grew up together.”
“And you like her?”
Seth paused and turned to her “No….? Not like that anyways-“
“Then why’d you blow me off for her last night?”
He hadn’t.
Well sort of. He was supposed to hang out with Meghan the night before but he’d spent the afternoon with Maddie and Harper next door. So when they’d insisted he come with them to get food, he had cancelled plans with Meghan and went with Maddie and Harper instead, unbeknownst to them.
He liked Meghan but she could be a lot, and hanging out with Maddie and Harper was so easy.
“I just-“
“I think your hanging out with me and hooking up with her or the other one behind my back.”
“Woah woah hang on.” He held up a hand “First of all, I’m not hooking up with Madison and if I was I wouldn’t be hanging out with you, and second of all, Harper is 23 and used to babysit us. What is your problem? Maddie’s been nothing but nice since you met her.”
“I don’t want you hanging out with her.”
Seth’s mouth fell open “Are you kidding? Your telling me who I can and can’t hang out with? We’ve been talking for like a week.”
“Okay well let me make it really easy for you then. If you wanna continue to talk, and you wanna date me, you can’t be friends with her.” She crossed her arms “Pick one.”
Serbs mouth fell open and he scoffed “Okay. Her.”
The smile slipped from her face and her mouth opened “Wh-what did you say?”
“Her.”
Meghan started yelling and pointing and calling him names, which he wasn’t surprised about, and next thing he knew he was making his way through his backyard and into Madison’s.
She smiled and waved “Hey you okay?”
He sat down on the chair next to her “Fine why?”
She raised an eyebrow and he sighed “You know that girl? Meghan that I was hanging out with?”
“Mhm.” She curled a leg underneath her and pushed a strand of hair from her forehead.
“She-I blew her off to hang out with you guys last night-“
“Seth why would-“
“And she told me that if I wanna date her I can’t be friends with you anymore.”
Maddie looked alarmed and her lips parted “Wow. That escalated uh-fast. So what did you say?”
He gave her a long look “You’ve been a great friend so it sucks that we have to stop being friends this way -“ but he couldn’t even get the words out before he started laughing.
A smile broke out across her face “You douche.”
“I’m kidding. I told her that I didn’t think it was gonna work. I’m not going to give up my friends.”
“I get it but still. That’s not fair of her to ask in my opinion and for her to think we’re hooking up is crazy.”
He chuckled and leaned back arms crossed “Not really. She thought I was hooking up with Harper too.”
“WHAT.”
A splash from next door interrupted his thoughts and he pushed himself up into a kneeling position on his bed. From his room he could see clear into both the Alexander’s back yard, Maddie’s room and part of the kitchen. It had made for one hell of a vantage point for years of hide and seek.
But what surprised him even more was that the splash from the pool was not only Harper, but Svech as well. A bold move he thought to himself with a smile and a chuckle.
Oh he was so getting in on this.
**********
It was late afternoon when Maddie returned home, now noting that all the cars, except her dads cruiser, were accounted for in both driveways, and that Seth and Andrei were both out front.
Fuck.
She hadn’t talked to him all day, assuming he too was deep in thought about what had happened the night before or he was avoiding her. She’d also been a little worried that maybe he hadn’t been thinking about her at all. Maybe it was just another kiss with another girl and things would go back to normal. Either way, she wasn't about to reach out first. She didn’t even know what to say to him.
By the time she got out of the car Andrei had all but disappeared and Seth was making his way over looking at her apprehensively and smiled “Hi.”
She felt her knees get weak and sucked in a breath “Hi.”
She shut her car door and made her way to the front meeting him in the middle. He looked nervous, and she reached forward grabbing his hand and motioned towards her house with a smile “Come on.”
Harper wasn’t in the lower half of the house, and was presumably unpacking in her basement apartment. Seth followed her up the stairs and into her bedroom, which he’d been in before but that was before he’d kissed her in the backyard.
She shut the door behind her and turned to him, brushing past him and sitting on her bed. She patted the space next to her motioning for him to sit. He felt nervous and sweaty and he had no clue what was going on with him. He never got nervous to talk to girls but kissing her last night had rattled him.
Maddie was different. But thinking back he realized she’d always been different to him.
He cleared his throat “So about last night. Should we talk about it?” His arm brushed hers and sent goosebumps across it and despite the warm weather she gave a little shiver.
Maddie looked at her legs dangling off the bed and smiled “Probably..” she had her hands resting on her knees and tentatively he reached out to hold one, resting it there a second before he spoke.
“You know I really care about you right?”
She nodded, her thumb sweeping across the skin of his hand “Yes.”
“And I would never jeopardize our friendship if I didn’t think that maybe we were more than that?…Are we more than that?”
“I think we could be. If you want that is.” She smiled at him, hair spilling over her shoulder as she turned her head to the side. If she hadn’t been holding his hand he would have thought this was a dream. She’d smiled at him more times than he could count, but never like this. It made his stomach churn, and his heart start to pound.
“More than you know. So does that mean I can kiss you again?”
She smiled and nodded, meeting him halfway fingers still intertwined with his. He kissed her very slowly and sweetly, the hand that wasn’t holding hers came up to slide up her neck and rest on her cheek.
It did not last.
Years of feelings and sexual tension began to bubble over like water on a stove. She gave him a little tug and they moved over the bed, her underneath him as he slotted himself between her legs and a hand tangled in her hair. She lost track of what she was doing and let out a breath when he ground his pelvis into hers.
“Is your dad home?” He murmured against her mouth, breath coming out in gasps.
“No.” She pulled the back of his shirt up, tugging it over his head and tossing it down on the floor. She unbuttoned the tank top she was wearing as he sprung the zipper on her shorts and pulled them down her legs, leaning forward to kiss her again as she pulled at the waistband of his shorts. Her heart was beating so loud it was drowning out the hearing in her ears but not enough that they didn’t hear the front door slam from downstairs startling them apart.
“Girls! You home?” Her dad called. She heard his footsteps start to come up the steps and Seth jumped off of her, looking around in a panic. She jumped up nearly falling over as she yanked her shorts up and threw on his shirt, shoving him inside her closet just as her dad knocked on the door. She took a deep breath and opened it.
“Oh hey dad-what uhm. What’s up?” She was breathing heavy and leaned against the door.
He was frowning at her “Are you okay?”
“Yeah why wouldn’t I be okay?” She chuckled a little.
He looked past her into her room and then down at her clothes “Who’s shirt is that?”
“Oh it’s-mine, it’s mine. I found it in my closet.” She was a terrible liar and she could see her dad didn’t believe a word she said.
He nodded slowly eyebrows raised “Right. Is your sister home?”
“I think she’s in the basement.”
“Okay are you staying in for the rest of the day?”
She glanced at the closet “Mhm.”
“Great. I’m going to go talk to Harper and then get some sleep.”
“Okay sounds good. Get some rest big guy, you deserve it. Love you.” She called leaning out the doorway with a big smile.
He chuckled “Love you too Mads.”
She closed the door casually and locked it, letting out the breath she’d been holding and creeping across the floor to open the closet. Seth was crying with laughter inside the closet, hand over his mouth as he leaned on the wall and whispered “He definitely knew I was in here. He’s gonna kill me I-“
“He’s definitely going to kill you if he hears you in here now shh!” Madison shushed him with a giggle and made her way across the room to close her curtains, and flipped her tv on, leaving them in partial darkness. She pulled Seth’s shirt over her head and handed it to him, reaching for her own shirt on the end of the bed.
He sat on her bed and shrugged it back on “This looks better on you.” He watched her with admiration as she pulled the tank top back on over her shoulders and buttoned it, pushing her hair over her shoulder.
She smiled at him and turned the volume on the tv up enough that they could talk undetected and seated herself next to him, getting as close as she possibly could. Though this was the first time she’d ever laid next to him in bed in a romantic way, it felt so natural. Like they’d been doing this since forever, almost as if it was meant to be. He ran a hand up her arm to her shoulder, turning slightly so he could lean down to kiss her again, but she pulled away, instead running her lips over his jaw, tongue sliding across his neck.
She could feel him squirming around and smiled a little.
“Stop.” He pulled her mouth off his neck, holding her face in his hands.
“Stop what?”
“You know what. If you keep doing that I’m gonna start yelling. And then you know what’ll happen.”
“My dad finding you in my room half dressed? He’d probably shoot you.”
“Your dad loves me.” he ran a hand up the side of her neck.
“Not that much.” She sucked in a breath as he leaned down to kiss her again, hand brushing up under her shirt. As his fingers moved across her waist, goosebumps bloomed across her skin and she gave a shiver. She wanted to so bad, but her sisters room was directly under hers and her dad was just down the hall.
He pulled back to look at her, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek “You know we can’t do this right?” He said quietly with a small frown “Not with an audience. And I wanna do this right.”
She nodded and sighed “I know. Where though?” She added with a chuckle.
He laughed and ran his fingers through her hair “We’re in our 20s. It’s supposed to be easier to find places to hook up, not harder.”
She chuckled and sighed “I know. But I live with Elliot Stabler and the genius who’s spiraling in the basement and these walls are paper thin. How do you think Harper knows about all the bad shit we did growing up.”
He laughed and ran a finger across her collarbone “True. My house is out of the question too, between my parents and Svechy. Hey we-“
“Absolutely not.” She said putting a hand up.
“You don’t even-“
“The Tiguan is out of the question Seth.”
His mouth fell open and he deflated a little “Okay okay. Just a suggestion sheesh….but out of curiosity why not? Is there something wrong with my Tiguan?”
“That thing is one hopped curb short of being held together by duct tape. Too much movement and it’s falling apart.”
“You have a lot of confidence in my abilities.”
She rolled her eyes and gave the skin on his waist a squeeze “Guess that means you’ll have to really wow me.”
“Oh I’ll wow you.” He said leaning down to kiss her.
Hours later, she’d managed to sneak Seth out undetected and sent him back to his house with another quick kiss and a wave and she was now lying across her bed fighting the urge to kick and squeal because her dad was still asleep down the hall.
She felt her phone buzz and picked it up to see a message from Seth.
What are the odds you can sneak out later?
She smiled and glanced up through the curtains at his window Not so great. That’s the trouble living with a trained investigator.
Damn. Guess I’ll just have to visualize. So what’re you wearing?
Madison giggled and put a hand over her mouth eyes swiveling to the ceiling An oversized shirt and socks.
That’s it? Nothing else?
Like what?
Nothing underneath?
Maddie grinned evily Why would there be? I don’t wear underwear
Across the yard, in Seth’s room a phone slipped from his hand and fell to the floor. He let his head fall back and huffed.
She was killing him.
He’d kissed her on two occasions and she had him wrapped, but before he could have any more thoughts about Madison, or her underwear or anything, Svech burst through the door to his bedroom startling him.
“Do they not practice KNOCKING in Russia Jesus Christ.” He said grabbing the spot over his heart.
“What are you smiling about? And where you been all afternoon?” Andrei asked him sitting at the end of his bed.
“None of your business nosey. How goes the plan to get Harper to acknowledge your existence? Or are you still invisible?”
“Ha ha.” He said squinting at him “We’re not talking about me.”
Seth laughed and shrugged “I’m just having a good day is all.”
“And does that good day have a name? Madison maybe?”
Seth kicked at him “Never you mind about my good day. What’s the next step in your master scheme? You’ve tried stalking, complimenting-“
“I did not stalk her-“
“You.” Seth said sitting up pointing at him “Showed up at her job to go running when she didn’t want you there. I don’t know what they call that in Russia but here that’s stalking my guy.”
“And you.” Andre said pointing at him “Went with me so that makes you an accomplice. And I did it at the suggestion of your good day.”
“My good day never explicitly told you-“
“Aha! So she is your good day.” Andrei said slapping him on the shin and grinning.
Seth sputtered at him for a second before he broke out into a smile “Fuck off.”
“Joking, I’m joking. Is that what Harper meant by “Being good to my sister? Or whatever she said.”
“I think so. Maddie must have said something, I don’t know. Harper knows everything about everyone so maybe she just guessed. She’s smart.” He tapped his temple and Andrei rolled his eyes.
“So tell me.”
“Tell you what?”
“Don’t be an idiot okay?”
Seth was laughing and shrugged “It’s been nice. We gotta get you your own Alexander sister buddy.” He slapped him on the back and stood “Come on, can we go eat I’m starving. We can hatch a plan to make Harper fall in love with you before the summers over.”
Andrei watched as Seth stood and cleared his throat “So you think she might like me a little bit? Maybe?”
Seth grinned “ She will if I have anything to do with it.”
**************
Maddie made her way through the house looking for Harper. She couldn’t talk with her dad about it, and her friends had been too wrapped up with their stuff to pay Maddie and her summer dramas any mind. In fact it had been over a week since she’d even seen or spoken to them. While Harper gave great advice, she was also uniquely qualified to speak about her and Seth because she’d basically raised both of them. Harper wouldn’t steer her wrong.
But really Maddie just wanted to talk. As a teen, before Harper moved out, they’d spent many nights talking and giggling together until their dad finally had to enforce curfew because they were keeping him up at night.
But as Maddie opened the basement door to descend the steps, she heard Harper crying. She paused and stood at the top of the stairs for second before she backed up and shut the door quietly. She wouldn’t bother Harper with this. As she made her way through the kitchen she spotted Seth and Andrei making their way though the driveway to Seth’s car talking and laughing. Seth spotted her through the large kitchen window and smiled and waved at her, which she returned before she made to turn and ran smack into her dad.
“Jesus dad I-“
“You going out with them?” He nodded to the Jarvis’s driveway.
“Me? No im going to sketch a while. Why would I be going out with them?”
“Did you or did you not go golfing with them yesterday?”
She chuckled “How did-Yeah but what’s that have to do with anything?”
He crossed his arms and peered down at her “And which one was in your room when I came home?”
Maddie wanted to shrivel up and die right there on the hallway rug as she looked up at her dad. Though historically he wasn’t a yeller, she and Harper had never really tested his patience. Maddie had always been more trouble prone than her sister but having a boy into her bedroom closet was a new one. They’d always followed the house rules, and their dad was laid back for the most part.
But he didn’t seem angry. He stood staring at her eyebrows raised “Hmm?”
Maddie felt her face get red and cleared her throat, straightening up and looking her dad in the eye “Seth.”
Surprise registered across his face and his mouth opened “Really?”
She hoped that because her dad loved Seth and had watched him grow up that he wouldn’t be as upset about it if it had been Andrei, a guy who had just shown up a week ago. She cleared her throat, crossing her fingers behind her back and smiled hopefully at her dad “So how much trouble am I in?”
He shrugged “Why would you be in trouble?”
“Because I lied. I had a boy in my bedroom….i lied? Really nothing?”
He frowned but looked amused “Do you want to be in trouble?”
She shook her head “No.”
“Okay then. But don’t do it again.” He warned pointing a finger at her.
“Yessir.” She said with a salute and a stifled giggle as she moved past her dad and up the steps pulling out her phone to text Seth with a small smile.
M: My dad knows you were in my closet. He said he’s looking for you.
S: WHAT.
#seth jarvis#seth jarvis fic#seth jarvis imagine#seth jarvis x reader#serh jarvis x original character#andrei svechnikov#andrei svechnikov x original character#hockey fanfiction#hockey romance#hockey fandom#hockey tumblr#hockey writing#hockey rpf#hockey tag#hockey blurb#hockey smut#hockey fic#hockey x oc#nhl fanfic#nhl oneshot#nhl smut#nhl rpf#nhl fanfiction#nhl imagine#nhl fic#nhl x reader#nhl blurb#carolina hurricanes
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oneshots
☞the introduction
i. dry humping
ii. fondling
iii. handjob
iv. fingering
v. phone sex
vi. [redacted]
vii. [redacted]
viii. [redacted]
ix. [redacted]
x. [redacted]
.
blurbs
n/a
.
#「the mortifying ordeal of being a 20 year old virgin masterlist」#luke hughes#nhl#new jersey devils#luke hughes x reader#luke hughes x you#luke hughes x y/n#luke hughes fic#luke hughes one shot#luke hughes smut#nhl x reader#nhl x you#nhl x y/n#nhl fic#nhl one shot#nhl smut
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𝐃𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐎 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃. | jack hughes
꒰ genre: mature ;established!relationship!au | drabble
꒰ word count: 1k
꒰ warnings: 18+ themes !! MDNI ! literally 1k words of just raw sweet filth, pussy drunk!jack, unprotected sex (be safe people), soft sex, swearing, praising.
꒰ author’s note: surpriseeee !! my first ever time trying to write smut, i’d say it went well ? (i really hope it did..) butttt this is also what i chose to write for my 1k follower celly !! (this is part 1 of 3 different drabbles i am writing for this celebration) thank you all so much for getting me to this point, and i’m so excited to put out all of the works i have in my drafts coming soonnnn :DD i hope you all enjoy this !
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it never ever mattered just how many times jack found himself sinking down into the heavenly feeling of your pussy, he knows for a fact that he'll never be able to get used to the intoxicating hug of your walls around his length.
he always felt like you were just silently begging for more of him, luring him in deeper with every needy stutter of yours hips whenever his palms squeezed at your waist as he bucked against you.
"come on, aghh—you gotta stop doing that, love." jack was already so out of it. he had just started, only a few thrusts in and he already felt like he could barely create a single breath when the deep kiss of his cock against your sensitive spot makes you purr his name and clench around him.
his hair is ruffled, a mess of light brown locks on his head and a few long strands hanging down, sticking to the light coat of sweat across his forehead. some other strands fall over his lidded gaze and framing his defined features, but thankfully he can still see you so so clearly; such a pretty sight seeing you underneath him like this, he thinks.
jack believes he’s never had a woman moan for him the way you do. he keeps chasing the intoxicating squeeze of your walls around him as he digs deeper and deeper for more of the sweet sounds that leave your lips—the sounds that are only for only him to hear. your back arches high off of the sheets as he lets his fingertips trace along the path of your skin, taking a slow and gentle handful of your hips with another tight squeeze before he whimpers low, pace slightly stuttering as he presses himself further into you.
he had a long day, dealing with the early morning practice and the tough game that was played just earlier that night—he really needed this; he needed you.
maybe that was why everything felt so good. because he had been imagining the feeling of your skin pressed up close to his all day. and now, through gritted teeth and restless hands just trying to touch every inch of your soft skin, he throbs long with his next withdrawal from you, right before he pushes straight back in.
"j-jack please!" you gasp at the feeling he sends through you, and his lips part to moan sinfully as he lets himself drop to rest on his forearms—just close enough for his lips to graze themselves along your prominent collarbones with tender open-mouthed kisses. he lets his eyes flutter closed, trying not to focus on how perfectly you're hugging around him, small hands grabbing ahold of his broad shoulders in a desperate attempt to pull him closer but also keep yourself steady as well.
"i know, baby, i know. s-shit, just be patient with me for a sec." jack feels so drunk on the feeling that is you. his mind and senses blurring all into one big blob as his name continues to fall from your lips between soft pants that make him feel like he's about to pass out right there from how sweet you sound. he starts mouthing his way at your neck, smearing messy and completely fucked out kisses along the expanse of your flesh as his movements slowly become even more desperate. "god, you just feel soo-so fucking—mmph—good baby.”
this feeling is dangerous. the heavy trembles of his hands where they squeeze at your skin, the painfully pleasing throb of his cock as desire begins to warm through all of his nerves, trickling down his spine as he grinds out another low drawled moan of your name.
his skin feels like it’s burning from every touch you give him, but he also thinks you're even hotter when you let him hear the sweet sound of praises and his name rolling off your tongue in rampant mumbles that has his abdomen tightening up.
"d-don’t do that, love. just gonna make me f-fucking cum." jack’s babbling every word, like sex-drunken mantras spurring out of him with every needy roll of his hips into yours. you can feel the blunt head of his cock grazing over ever sensitive and sinful spot inside of you that only have you squeezing him even tighter; just sucking him deeper and deeper down into you.
"jack-a-ahhhh.. doing so so good.” the whimpering praise falling from your lips is like honey as it drips in his ears, making him tilt his head to plunge his mouth right into yours before his body starts to shake, and his lungs continue flaring with every heavy pant of breath he exhales with his thrusts. his sudden orgasm catches him off guard when he feels your tongue tangling with his own, sliding across his top lip as he then cums, hot spurts of him filling you up to the brim.
a low grunt releases itself from jack through your kiss from deep within his throat as his pace starts to slow slightly, kissing at your lips slowly as his next wet withdrawal leaves you, right before he's pushing his load deep down into your cunt. every lewd squelch of your pussy makes him gasp against your lips as he kisses you, inturn making you even more wet for the man that’s fucking you absolutely senseless.
even though jack had already reached his high, he still doesn’t want to stop, not when you just look so pretty in your fucked out and inebriated state, and you’re doing so good for him.
"j-jacky. feeling any b-better? mmm" his body continues to clap against yours, speed slowing down ever so slightly before he pulls away from your lips to rest his head in the tight crook of your neck, panting as he grinds steady thrusts into your pussy, despite the way the sensitivity of his cock is hitting straight at his nerves. every thick throb and strained squeeze felt like it was knocking all of the air out of him, but every soft moan from your lips is just enough to remind him how to breathe and he knows for a fact that he's not stopping so soon as he sends you short lustful smirk before he's smearing a wet kiss upon your cheek.
"mmf.. all better, but i gotta take care of my little baby now."
#⋆·˚ ༘ *—rowdyslove’s 1k follower celly !!#—ness writes#jack hughes#jack hughes x y/n#jack hughes blurb#jack hughes smut#jack hughes x reader#jack hughes imagine#jack hughes fluff#nj devils#new jersey devils#nhl x y/n#nhl fluff#nhl smut#nhl x reader#nhl blurb#nhl imagine#nhl fic
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𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍 | 𝐣. 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬
₊⊹ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 — secrets are best kept buried, just like your tangled relationship with your best friend’s older brother.
₊⊹ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — unrequited love ( that heart wrenching shit ), cursing? weird mentions and descriptions of blood, cursing ( lots of it ), yelling / arguing ( LOTS of it ), heavy angst with a dash of laughter, kind of OMC x reader but not too much, jealousy, kinda possessiveness ( from jack… had to do it ), emotional distress and all that good stuff
₊⊹ 𝐏𝐀����𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — jack hughes x f!reader , OMC x f!reader (briefly), best friend!luke hughes x f!reader
₊⊹ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 — i’ve returned from a million year hiatus with this BIG BITCH and i’m sorry for it. may write a pt. 2 w a happy ending bc i’m a slut for them. anyway, enjoy! request if you’d like. love you guys.
𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓
You had existed within the world of Jack Hughes since your freshman year of high school.
Existed. Not an integral part, nor a spoke on the wheel of many friends he already had. Truthfully, you were only acquainted with him because of his younger brother, Luke; your freshman biology lab partner, and eventual best friend. Years had passed since you first met Luke—no longer were you the wide-eyed fifteen-year-old crossing the threshold from child to near-adult. Now, you were an adult. Twenty, with two more years of college stretched out before you, seemingly everything had changed.
Well, except for the lead weight chained to your ankle—the fundamental and inexorable truth that you were still in love with Jack Hughes.
It started as most consuming things do: a small idea, watered by brief looks, a brush of heated fingertips against your hand, or arm, or waist—or anywhere, really. A head rush that sent you meters under waves of excitement and anticipation. Loving Jack was like having a fever that never broke; it persisted, a dull ache that squeezed your skull each time he was near. Even now, five years later, the flashing of blue eyes—never brimmed with what you knew was embarrassingly reflected in your own—was enough to make sweat bead at your palms.
It never grew into more than a hope, a wishful desire. But wishing seldom got anyone anywhere, and it surely hadn’t helped you. When the months turned warm and spring faded into summer, the overwhelming ache of freedom that came with warm weather and the end of the hockey season drew Luke and his brothers to Sanibel—a beach so wrought with memories of youth and foolish memories that the idea of going another year made dread settle like steel in your bones. They’d bought it after a vacation there a few years ago, and the rest was history.
But, of course, Luke—the youngest of three—never took no for an answer.
“You can’t miss this year,” he had insisted. The Devils had their hopes cut short once more—this time in an second round exit to Carolina. Ergo, the expected departure time had been bumped up significantly. Vancouver had missed the playoffs altogether.
You stood silent, tearing away skin from your nail-beds as Luke leaned against the kitchen counter. The cold metal of the fridge pressing into the bare strip of skin on your back was the only thing keeping you present in the conversation.
You hated how Luke did this—he’d take your silence over text as an invitation to barge his way into your apartment, destroying the barrier of safety and excuses a phone provided, and ask you face-to-face. And how could you say no? You never had before, and look where that got you. No closer to removing hooks branded with the name Jack from your heart.
“Luke…” you sighed, only dropping your hands when blood bubbled to the surface of your torn skin. Pain rippled down your fingertips, but you ignored it. The dread that quickened your pacing heart was too overwhelming a sensation. “I don’t know—maybe I should—”
“Skip out?” Luke rounded the kitchen counter and came to stand in front of you. “No way, Bells. You have to come. Otherwise I’ll be alone all summer.”
You could have scoffed if you cared more. Bells. That dumb nickname Jack had given you years ago—according to him, it was because you were such a silent walker, you required a bell to be heard. Aside from the embarrassment you got from being called a childhood nickname even now, it reminded you that your existence was always going to be tied to Jack. A piece of him carried with you, a cage keeping your heart from beating without him; the bright red ribbon tied around your wrist that screamed I Love Jack Hughes!
No matter what, it would always be him. You tried; God, did you try. Hearing stories of his hookups, the life of a single, superstar hockey player should have been enough to send your stupid childhood crush to its grave, but as if cursed by a necromancer, the mere mention of Jack brought it right back to life. It was a cruel cycle that just wouldn’t end. And you knew going to that damned beach house would only prolong the life of the indestructible feeling more.
Jack was tarnished jewelry, rubbing your skin green and raw and wrong, and yet—you could never seem to take it off, even when it made you look foolish.
Silence fell like thick fog. Luke’s eyes roved along your face, as if trying to read a book with the letters smudged. “C’mon, Bells. You have fun every year, and I don’t want to have a summer without you.”
“Jack and Quinn will be there,” you said, voice low. Pathetic anxiety swelled in your chest like the forecast of a hurricane. Even saying his name tightened your veins. “Trevor, Alex, and Cole, too—I don’t need to go, Luke. Won’t it be weird?”
An unamused look graced Luke’s face. “You go with us every year. Why would it be different now?”
You wanted to curse Luke for being so persistent. Part of you wished you could just scream that you loved his brother, but couldn’t. You never could. Loving Jack ensured you lost someone—Luke, who would never get over the thought of you potentially sleeping with Jack; and well, if that failed, you also fully lost Jack. Unrequited love confessions made fools of ghosts.
To Jack, you were a ghost. Haunting his life, disrupting some times, but never there long enough to be seen. And even if he did, he convinced himself you weren’t there, that you didn’t even exist. Maybe it were best if you moved on and let yourself rest. Ghosts haunt their murderers, but Jack hadn’t killed you, you’d killed yourself—hoping, wishing, praying he would take a moment to believe and see you. But he never did. So you floated through his life until the moment you were no longer confined by unfinished business.
And maybe that was what you needed. Closure, the severing of a tie that was only hurting you to hold on to. And maybe, closure would come this summer. To look on Jack and not feel your heart race, but settle into a quiet murmur, a healthy pace—to free yourself from the confines of this painful love and finally move on. Haunt the graveyard no longer; sitting by and hoping he would place flowers by the grave.
“Okay,” you said quietly, glancing down at your sweater. Crimson marks stained the white fabric. You’d accidentally wiped your fingers on the cloth. “You win.”
Maybe this would be the summer you let go of Jack Hughes.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆
The cry of gulls and gentle breeze of salt-bitter air welcomed you back as the car breezed past the Welcome to Sanibel Island! sign. It felt like a taunt, as if you were passing into the circus, the main star of a show you never signed up for. With Sanibel came Jack, and the potential end to a love you’d clawed onto for dear life for the last half-decade. It felt strange, almost wrong, to imagine a world where Jack Hughes didn’t exist as the basis for all romantic interests. To hold someone’s hand and not compare the texture to his. To lose the anticipated blush that warmed your face each time he glanced at you. Because losing Jack was like losing a piece of yourself—all your life you’d associated love with him, and what would there be afterwards?
Sandy beaches rolled endless at the horizon, dotted with the figures of vacationers and locals alike. You glanced to Luke, his hand working the steering wheel as he drove the long-winded path to the beach house. Strands of your hair were roused by the invisible hand of the wind, no doubt knotting it, but you were too enraptured in what ifs and a potential future to much care.
“Are you excited?” Luke asked, looking to you. Elbow leaned against the doorframe, you managed to work your mouth into a smile. Even if it was twinged with apprehension.
“Of course. I love it here. I’m glad you guys were rich enough to buy it.”
Luke laughed.
And that was true. Summer here felt endless. Nights spent on the beach, the tickle of warmth from a stick-lit fire cradling you against the rush of cold blowing off the ocean. The bitter rush of alcohol that stung your veins. Hair made wet by the sea, drying beneath the warm fingertips of sunlight. Skin richening into a burn, soothed only by aloe vera and a cold shower. Laughter between friends and the restless nights talking. All of it was perfect. For you, summer was Jack. Brief and sweet, the thing you looked forward to seeing each year. But it never lasted long enough to truly feel, something you could never touch.
You wondered if you made it obvious. If Luke suspected, or Quinn; the eldest Hughes was always the most perceptive. Any time Jack said something that made your teeth clench with hurt, Quinn glanced at you. A reassuring smile. The extended hand in the dark. But if he knew, he never commented on it.
“Who’s already here?” you asked, eyes catching on the brightly colored houses lining the beach. Blue, pink, the odd green, melding together as the car breezed into the strip of land the beach house rested on.
You almost dreaded the answer. “Quinn and Jack,” Luke responded, voice a little distant—his eyes scanned for the house, too focused on his task to much care for the cringe you gave at the mention of Jack’s name.
You shouldn’t have been surprised, really. It was his house. Yet you found yourself hoping you’d at least beaten him here so you could mentally prepare for his arrival. As it were, you had about five minutes to do that.
Tires crunched against sand as Luke pulled into the driveway. Lead solidified in your bones until you felt as though you were going to sink straight into the earth. A deep breath expanded your chest, and you watched as Luke took out his phone—presumably to text that he’d arrived. Escaping the car, Luke stared at you expectantly. Your body pressed against the doorframe, eyes glanced out at the horizon. Smeared like a painting across the sky, a myriad of colors—oranges, pinks, yellows—foretold the coming of night. Maybe you could stay in here until everyone was asleep, to sneak past Jack and not have to—
The door to the passenger side opened, and there stood Luke, a hand on his hip. Making grabby hands like a toddler, he motioned for you to come. “What’s up with you, Bells? You’re so… quiet.”
You snorted. “That’s not news.”
“You know what I meant,” retorted Luke, grabbing your elbow with a gentle grip. “What’s got your head off to sea?”
Your brother! you wanted to scream, but found your tongue bolted to the bottom of your mouth. Offering instead a smile, you allowed Luke to help you out of the Jeep. Soft sand caught your feet, cushioning the drop. It felt strange to be back here again, but somehow, you knew it wouldn’t be the same. A rueful feeling ached your bones. This would maybe be the last time you’d ever come to the beach house. If your closure went as you intended… there would be no more summers in Sanibel. No more late beach nights. No more salt air creating a stick sheen on your skin. No more Jack Hughes.
“Just thinking about summer,” was all you said.
Like everything, its temporariness was what made it special.
Together, you and Luke began to unpack the bags from the trunk of the Jeep. “Any fun activities planned this summer?” you asked, hoping to alleviate the tension making your head pound.
Luke gave you a backwards glance as he practically leaned his whole body into the trunk. “New bar opened on the strip,” he told you. “I think we have to go.”
Your eyebrows crinkled. “We’re twenty, Luke. And this is a tourist town, they’re going to ID.”
Luke only smiled, clearly not thwarted by your pessimism. “Lucky then that you don’t have to worry. I’ve got it all figured out.”
You didn’t want to ask how, so instead you sighed, hauling your bag onto your shoulder. “Whatever. But I am not ending up in jail because you want to underage drink in public, Luke.”
There was no response to that. Slinking past you with elegance you thought his large frame incapable of, Luke began walking up the driveway and towards the beach house. It looked exactly the same as it had last summer—a gentle gray exterior, like the storm clouds that sometimes brewed over the sea, and a darker roof. White wood bordered the many windows, some with their own balconies. Rust spotted the metal of the garage, slowly encroaching from the outside. A simple wood fence enclosed the sides of the house, leading to the back where you knew a pool hid. Everything was exactly the same, yet so different. Last time you were here, it all felt so unknown, like the end of the summer would make or break the rest of your year. You’d hoped then that maybe Jack would notice, that it would finally be the year he looked at you as more than Luke’s best friend. You’d packed your cutest outfits, the bikinis your friends said would make any man double-take, yet nothing worked. It had been the same as every year before. Jack was nice, but indifferent. Friendly, but inattentive.
However, this year wasn’t like every other year. You didn’t come here with starry eyes and a child-like hope that Jack would pick you after years of oblivion. You came here to finally let go of him, to move on, to bury a love you’d kept on life support for years and years, in the hopes it would come back to life.
Feet making indents in the sand as you walked up the driveway, you saw Jack’s car—a silver Mercedes-Benz—parked a bit ahead. You hated the stutter in your step when you saw it, and you hated more the stoppage in your heart when you heard laughter rounding the side of the house. There was two voices, interwoven and nearly indistinguishable, but you’d know his laugh anywhere, know it blind. All the feelings you’d shoved aside in favor of an aloof disposition crawled their way out of shallow graves. A shaky breath, the fluttering of your eyes, and suddenly—there he was.
Trailing behind Quinn, soaked black swim shorts clinging to wide thighs, a bare chest coated in droplets of water, tousled hair styled by the unconscious hand of water. He smiled, maybe at something Quinn had said, you weren’t sure, and it all came back. How could you get closure when he incited such a deep, profound longing in your soul? When he tugged you towards him the the moon to the tide?
You’d stopped walking. When, you weren’t sure. Time became an endless thing as Jack’s eyes flickered to you. Those blue eyes shot through with something you weren’t sure how to describe, but he grinned—at you—and then he was walking towards you. All at once you wanted to lob a rock at Luke’s head for making you come, and then kill yourself for even thinking for one moment closure would be remotely possible when you still were in love with Jack.
His presence was all-consuming, like stepping to close to the fire. Fingers worn by years of use brushed your own when he took your luggage, carrying it with ease. Even older than you, Jack never lost that youthful sense of delight you’d seen on kids when they got a new toy. He’d always been the sun. For you, and for everyone around him.
You’d never deluded yourself into thinking you were the only one who loved Jack, or wanted him. But it didn’t stop you from wishing you were the one he’d choose.
“Bells,” Jack greeted, warmth oozing from his words, so much that you wanted to yell at him that he wasn’t being fair. How could he expect you not to want him? How, when he was so nice to you, yet so indifferent? “How was the trip?”
Blinking, you allowed him to gathering your luggage and begin walking back to the house. Water transferred from his body to your tote bag, but you found yourself not caring. He could ruin everything you’d brought and it wouldn’t matter. They’d at least be stained with his touch.
“Good,” you managed, trying to keep your feet even on the lumpy sand. Why they’d decided not to install an actual drive way would never make sense to you. “Not a lot of traffic. Luke didn’t kill us, so that’s a plus.”
Jack laughed. It rumbled through his chest and echoed like a victory trumpet in the air. “He’s a shit driver,” he said. “Shoulda convinced him to let you drive with me.”
Tar filled your lungs. Words failed you, and so stupidity, you said: “But you drove with Quinn.”
Jack quirked an eyebrow. Readjusted your bag on his shoulder. “Quinn’s a big boy. He can travel alone.”
Before you could stop yourself, the words flew out of your mouth, “So you think I’m a little girl?”
Jack paused. Glanced over at you. The meeting of two sets of eyes holding extremely different emotions. After a moment, he cut the tension with another laugh. “You are two years younger than me.”
“So is Luke, and last I checked, he was the tallest,” you retorted, offering up a chuckle yourself. You didn’t want to give more, to give in. You had to keep that wall, even if there was already so many holes in it.
With his free hand, Jack tussled your hair, wiggling your head around. You batted him off, feigning annoyance, when really, you wanted him to keep touching you. You could have groaned. God, you were pathetic.
Entering the beach house was like entering freedom. It was typically decorated, that seaside aesthetic Ellen had done herself the first year the boys bought the house. Fishing net and shells in jars, accompanied by hanging hammocks and white coral displays hadn’t moved, and you felt the air greet you, blowing in from the open back door that looked over the pool—and the beach. Salty air snaked up your airway, a welcome sting. A missed one. You weren’t sure if you’d miss Jack or the beach house more.
Luke disappeared with Quinn, the latter offering a gentle smile—perhaps a little pity twinged in. That left only you and Jack, standing in the wide mouth of the living room, the sunset sky bathing your skin in those candle-light oranges you so loved. Beside you, the gentle pat, pat, pat of water dripping off of Jack’s shorts was all that was heard. You took a moment more to enjoy the feeling of peace you got from being here, before Jack snapped you back to the current with a throat clear.
“Want me to bring your stuff to your room?” Your room. The one you’d claimed all those years ago. A room that—after this summer, perhaps—would bo longer be yours. You’d spent hours decorating it, little trinkets imposed with sentiment covering the room. The sea blue sheets. The balcony overlooking the ocean. All of it would be gone.
You had to inhale to stave off the melancholia crawling up your throat like bile. “Yeah, thanks.”
It was hard not to look at Jack. He was always the center of attention—on the ice, off the ice; in his personal life, in the eye of the public. He just was. Never asked for it, always had it. Girls wanted him, boys wanted to be him. You imagined it got tedious after so many years, but at the same time, you wondered what it would be like to be that loved. So adored you could have anything and anyone. You found you’d trade it all for him, for Jack, if he simply asked. You knew he wouldn’t do the same. Why give up freedom for a small-town girl that his brother had dragged around for longer than he probably should?
Up the stairs, through a hallway, and there your room was. You tried to revel in it, in the finality of it all. Convinced you were never coming back here. That Jack would never carry your luggage for you again, making a mess of the floors just to help you out. Inside, you saw the bed was made just like how you left it. A small whale plush—affectionately named Hershey for the chocolate it had been holding when it was won at the arcade—was sat just before the pillows. You hadn’t left him there. Hershey was a cherish piece of history; Jack had won him for you, two years back. Whales were your favorite animal, a gentle giant, the crown of the sea. He knew it, and he had gotten him for you. Maybe that was what kept your hope alive, the little things, the moments where he was more than just an unreachable deity you prayed to repeatedly just for him to notice you.
You glanced over your shoulder as Jack placed your luggage down with a thud. He rubbed his hands together. “Found him downstairs,” he said, gesturing to Hershey, “figured I’d bring him home.”
Home. A word that made your gut turn. His home, but never yours.
“Oh, yeah,” you said lamely. “Wouldn’t want to lose Hershey. You tried so hard to win him.”
Jack scoffed. “I was playing against Trevor. I’d be embarrassed if I didn’t win.”
“Don’t talk about Trevor like that,” you teased with a smile. Finding yourself slipping back into the dynamic. You’d try to make him laugh, just to make him smile. Just to make him see you could make him happy.
Jack only rolled his eyes. You attempted to side-step him, only for your foot to catch his own. A hand immediately came to your rescue, steadying you. A hot flush pinkened your cheeks and slid down your spine. His breath fanned over your temple, a catalyst for every single one of your nerves fraying. You hated that he could do this to you, without trying, without caring, when you tried so hard to avoid falling back into him like a fool. It wasn’t fair—but when was love?
Jack pulled his hand away, the phantom of his fingers imprinted on your skin. Marked. Just like you’d always been. “Sorry,” you muttered, embarrassment eating at you.
His laugh was a reward. “It’s fine,” he responded. It was always fine with Jack. Never hard feelings. You didn’t think he had a aggressive bone in his body, even after years and years of playing physical hockey. “Even after all the years, you still can’t stay on your feet.”
A reference to your clumsiness. Which wasn’t clumsiness. It was just Jack. You never stumbled around anyone but him. “Yeah,” you bit out, probably harsher than intended. “Guess I haven’t changed.”
But you had. And you needed to find a way out of the hole that was Jack Hughes before you were buried alive.
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Letting go of things has never been easy. Marked with scratches and tears, everything you’d ever relinquished never left the same. How could it, when you’d spent so much time loving it, cherishing it, only for it to be cruelly ripped from your grasp? Letting go had never been easy, because you’d never been ready to lose what was taken, because it was never ready to leave you either. That’s why it was so easy to reason with yourself about finally moving on from Jack Hughes.
It wasn’t mutually assured destruction. There would be no blowing out of stars and creation of supernovas when you finally put the love to rest. Because it was you. It was never him. He didn’t love you—hell, he didn’t even know you loved him. Perhaps there laid the foundation for burial, a tomb within the dunes, marked with a single shell. When the time came, no claw marks would mar Jack’s skin. He was never yours to mark.
Two weeks had since passed. Settling in had always been easy, but this time, it felt like a final meal before execution. A good thing before the inevitable end. Nights spent by the pool, the reflection of the water a perfect mirror of Jack’s eyes. Drinking and laughing and talking—a chosen family, but one you’d soon depart. You’d always have Luke, the last cord of the fraying rope, unbreakable and timeless. But never again would you tug on that rope, just to see the other end. To move on from Jack would be to forget him, as much as you could.
The summer sun blistered overhead, biting your skin until red bloomed. Splayed out on a beach towel, you opted to suntan while the boys enjoyed the water. You’d get in, eventually, preferably when Jack was not in. You didn’t want the distraction of his body to further make you doubt your ability to handle change. Back facing the sun, you remained entranced by the book in front of you, instead imagining your love life was as explosive and beautiful as the story written for you. When you went to flip the page, something hit your back—a ball, you guessed, from the feeling of impact—making your already sunburnt skin sting like hell.
“Shit,” you cursed, placing your book face down in order to stand. Glancing to the side you figured the ball bounced off to, there sat the culprit: a black-and-white soccer ball, covered in patches of sand.
You heard some shouting, and opted to be a good samaritan and grab it. As you bent down to pick up the sandy ball, another pair of hands invaded your vision and brushed your own. Rightening, you saw a tall man—your age, presumably—who immediately began spewing apologies of all kinds.
He had that youthful look to him, the same as Jack. Golden curls fell around his eyes, slightly sandy, a bit wet, but gleaming like rays of sunlight. Familiar eyes, the blue of the sky after a storm, peered at you with a mixture of concern and apology. He was beautiful, in an artful way—a hand-sculpted effigy, lain in the town square to be worshiped. You figured with age and maturity he presently lacked, he’d be all the more beautiful.
But he wasn’t Jack.
“I am—so sorry!” he spewed words like bullets, hoping one apology landed. You bit down a laugh at the desperation leaking into his voice. “I wasn’t watching where I was kicking. Sorta shanked it—scratch that, really shanked it. Are you okay—I meant to ask—”
“I’m fine,” you cut him off, sparing him. As endearing as his apology was, you could see red rising to his face—you knew what it felt like. “Although I don’t recommend you shoot for the Premier League.”
Upon realizing you weren’t angry, the boy relaxed. “Yeah, as if,” he laughed, tossing the balls back and forth between his hands. “You are okay, right?”
Your eyebrow quirked. “Unless you’re secretly the Hulk, I don’t think you kicking a ball at me could do any serious damage.” Your fingers grazed the spot the ball struck. “Might have a weird mark on my back, ‘s all.”
Goldie Locks, as you’d taken to calling in him your head, circled around you and bent at his knees. His fingertips grazed the small of your back, rattling your spine into a shiver. You heard a subdued sound—something between a giggle and a sharp exhale of air through his noise—and twisted to look down at him.
“It looks dumb, huh?” you said, trying to feel the patter marked on your back with your fingers.
Goldie Locks shook his head. “You wear it well.”
“I better, or I’ll give you a matching mark,” you teased. He stood up, imposing. “Really, though, I’m fine…”
He caught on swiftly. “Jackson. Or Jack.”
You could have cursed the Gods and Fate and her trifling ways. Of course the first cute guy you find has to be him, but not be him. The great irony of life, you supposed it was. Finally ready to move on, and your tugged right back to square one.
A tight smile made its way onto your face. “Jackson.”
Jackson opened his mouth to say something, but the voice of the man you quite literally could not escape interrupted him. “Bells? You okay?”
You thought briefly of faking fainting.
“I’m fine,” you responded, without looking at Jack. You couldn’t. But you wanted to. “He just hit me with a soccer ball and was apologizing.”
Jack imposed into your vision anyway. Jaw working, the rapid flex of his muscles that told he ran to you. Suddenly, the sweltering heat was no longer the cause for your sweating. “Hit you?” he repeated, glancing to Jackson with a raised brow.
Shoved into an unwanted spotlight, Jackson immediately backpedaled. “Accident. Didn’t mean to hit your girl.”
Your girl.
Your girl.
Your girl.
Those two simple words repeated like a scratched vinyl in your mind. Jack’s girl. His. It was something that would have made past you puff your chest. It made present you feel sick. Another pull towards him. Another lock trapping you inside of the room. In the past, you wouldn’t have said anything—wouldn’t have fought it. You’d have waited to see if Jack would deny it; he always did. Another nail in the coffin. How many were needed until you finally understood?
But you were now actively trying to fight the feeling seemingly hardwired into your blood. The instinct that told you to love Jack. “Oh, we’re not dating,” you told Jackson. Blue eyes flittered to you—was he surprised? For once you denied, distanced. Was he confused? “He’s my best friend’s older brother.”
You didn’t know why you added that part. It wasn’t necessary—Jackson didn’t care about your relationships to Jack past the words not dating. But here you were, petty pride swelling in your chest at finally getting to stick it to Jack. Finally being the denier instead of the denied.
“Oh,” Jackson quirked his brow. Glanced at Jack; he said nothing. “Is it okay if I have your number?”
That shocked you. And it clearly shocked Jack, as well. His shoulders tensed, eyes darting to you. Gauging your response. You would have said no before. Would have made some dumb excuse. If you accepted, you distanced yourself from Jack, showed indifference. Past you couldn’t have that.
Present you could.
“Sure,” you said.
This summer would be different.
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You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been on a date. Michael Neely in eleventh grade, but that was in major part because he looked entirely too similar to Jack—didn’t act like him, however. Didn’t smile like the sun’s envy. He just wasn’t Jack. For as long as you could remember, no one had been. Isolating yourself for years because of the off chance Jack would finally admit it, as if he’d been pulling a big joke on you and had actually wanted you back. But he never did. And you couldn’t wait around forever hoping he would. He never asked you to.
You went through your hair with a brush one final time before deeming yourself presentable. A knit green tank-top paired with denim shorts, warm vanilla perfume—one you’d used since Jack had offered a compliment on the scent—and a smile that you hoped appeared genuine. For once you were excited, not thinking of Jack, measuring Jackson up to him. You let Jackson be himself, undeterred by the ghost of your unrequited love.
The downstairs of the beach house was alive with loud laughter and conversation—you hated you could still pick out Jack’s laugh, could imagine his face when he did; the gentle scrunch of his nose, the squint of his eyes. You wondered if it would ever go away, that sixth sense. If you’d ever be truly and unapologetically free.
Rounding the corner, you were met with the sight of the three brothers playing what looked to be Chel, their eyes fixated on the large TV in front of the couch they were splayed on. You debated slinking out of the house, silent as they’d always teased you for being, just to avoid the awkward conversation you knew would come from the knowledge you—Bells, infatuated devotee of Jack Hughes—were going on a date with a boy you’d known a week.
Fiddling with your fingers, you stood at the back of the couch. Not wanting to interrupt their game, you went to simply tap Luke on the shoulder, hoping he’d eventually pause it. He wasn’t the one to do it, however. Luke and Queen groaned in annoyance when the screen paused, glancing over to the only person who could have done it. Jack didn’t spare them a glance. His homely blue eyes were on you, eyebrows furrowed. Following his gaze, Luke and Quinn gave you a once-over.
“Hell are you going all dolled up like that, Bells?” Luke asked, flicking you on the wrist.
You didn’t really think you were dolled up. “I have a thing called a date, Luke.”
That incited the expected awkward silence. As if drawn by a unbeatable force, you found yourself glancing to Jack. White-knuckled, he gripped the controller with such force you were surprised it didn’t break on him entirely. You briefly wondered what his issue was before Quinn spoke.
“With who?” Surprise laced his question, and you hated it. Hated that he thought you were incapable of moving on from Jack—or maybe he didn’t think you incapable, just averse.
“That guy from the beach, right, Bells?” Luke piped up, turning his body on the couch to face you. “What was his name? Jack?”
You ground your jaw. “Jackson.”
Luke shrugged. “Same thing.”
It wasn’t. You really hoped it wasn’t.
You turned to leave, intent on scurrying out like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs, when a voice called you back. Always calling you back, just when you tried to leave.
“Bells,” Jack spoke, voice drawled. You didn’t turn. “Where are you going?”
You blinked at him, dumbfounded. “On a date…?”
“Where?” You figured it could have been a growl if he were less careful. Luke and Quinn glanced at each other. You fought back a scream.
Why do you care? Why now? When I’m about to move on? I spent so much time waiting for you. I’m done.
You wanted to scream those words at him, but of course, like most confessions, they went unsaid.
“The cove,” you humored him, eyes flicking to your fingers. When had they started bleeding? The cove, of course, was as it sounded: a small chunk of land past the rock barrier at the beach, cornered in by mangroves and hidden away from sight, Jackson claimed it the perfect place for a seaside picnic. You weren’t one to argue.
When Jack made no effort to respond, you finally left. Jackson wasn’t even there yet, but you couldn’t stay inside anymore. Indecision and confusion were eating away at your gut, turning your mind into a war zone. You didn’t understand—couldn’t understand. Years spent in the shadow of Jack Hughes had taught you to fear the light, that if you even for a second let the rays touch you, came the consequence of losing the shade forever. And you’d tossed those fears aside, let yourself into the light, and that only made the dark come back in full force.
It wasn’t fair. Why weren’t you allowed to move on? To finally break the bonds that you yourself had made? Jack had never kept you near, and yet now he didn’t seem to want to let you go. Like a child unwilling to relinquish a toy just because it was theirs.
You tried not to dwell on it. Not when Jackson pulled up, his 4Runner breaking the noise of gulls calls and rumbling cars. Not when he led you out to the cove, picnic basket in hand, like an old-timey romance your mother used to watch. You tried, but just like everything concerning not thinking about Jack, miserably failed. Jackson was attentive, sweet, he did it all right. And as much as you hated yourself for thinking it, it was true: he wasn’t Jack.
“Are you a local?” Jackson asked you. Your mouth closed around a strawberry, staining your fingertips red—better than blood, you supposed.
The tide lapped gently at the sand before your feet, spanning out from beneath the quilt laid beneath you and Jackson. Always coming close, but never quite enough to wet your feet. Gnarled roots of mangrove trees split the sand, boxing the little cove in. You remembered coming here with Jack once, when he was trying to make up for throwing you in the pool with your phone in your back pocket. He hadn’t set up a picnic, only sat beside you in the sand and offered you Hershey. A silent apology. One you never forgot.
Trying to build over that memory was like trying to filter the salt out of the sea. There was too much to ever fully get rid of it.
A breeze tickled your legs. Sand parted between your toes. Everything felt normal; normal, you realized, wasn’t always right.
“No,” you responded after some time, tossing the strawberry head to the sea. “I come here every year with my best friend, his brothers, and their friends.”
Jackson nodded. “The guy from the beach, the one I thought you were dating—” You fought the urge to cringe, “—that was Jack Hughes, right?”
Always the icon. Beloved, beautiful Jack Hughes.
You glanced at Jackson. He smiled. “Yeah, I’ve known him for years. His brother is my best friend.”
“Yeah, I remember you saying that,” he laughed, a whimsical sound. Off-key; pitched too high. You didn’t think you’d be able to differentiate it in a room of others. “How’d that even happen?”
You grinned. Memories of freshman year. Restless nights spent studying in Luke’s room. False trips to the bathroom just for a chance at a glance of his brother. “Luke and I met in our freshman year biology class. He absolutely sucked. Had to tutor the poor kid so he wouldn’t fail.”
Jackson shook his head, the mess of golden curls crowning him danced with the movement. Raising a finger, he wagged it at you as if apprehending a naughty dog. “Hold on now. Biology is damn hard, cut him some slack.”
You giggled. Almost cringed. You felt like a schoolgirl again, trying to slow time as a cute boy walked past. “Maybe if you’re a loser.”
More time passed, the sun’s rays dulled to a warm orange instead of a blinding yellow. The sea calmed. Unseen birds chirped and sung their tunes, never to be understood. Jackson asked questions, answered some. He indulged, dug deep, hoping for treasure. It was strange, to fix your hair and bat your lashes in the hopes of impressing a boy who wasn’t Jack Hughes. Stranger yet you were enjoying Jackson, even fantasizing about a second date. The cold fingers of the wind rose gooseflesh in its wake; your arms rose to combat it, folding against your body in hopes to retain heat. Jackson peered over.
“Cold?” he asked, presumptuous and forward and hoping; one arm already out of his cardigan.
You nodded, murmuring a thanks as Jackson draped his sweater over your shoulders. At once the smell of salt and secondhand smoke snaked up your nose, invaded your airways. It was so different from the warm amber you imagined your skin would faintly smell of if Jack made you his—he smelled like heartbreak and sleepless nights and longing, something you feared was permanently smeared on your flesh. You found yourself heating at the scent, blushing, a slight twinge of excitement at the thought of being claimed by another boy. Foolishly, maybe, you thought it could purge Jack from you, draw over the marks he’d made all over your flesh.
You’d had boys like you before, liked them back—felt the head rush that accompanied youthful yearning. None had ever compared to Jack. Like a stain on your favorite shirt, he’d never come out of your heart, a scar that pulsed every so often, a reminder that he was still there. That he’d never go away. You realized now, looking at Jackson—the soft lines that sprouted next to his eyes when he smiled, a mess of curly blond hair that seemed to fall perfectly in front of his eyes, catered specifically to his beauty—that the memories of wounds weren’t always bad. They weren’t just reminders that you’d been hurt, but that you survived.
Before your mind could conjure any wishful images of you and Jackson, he spoke, “Tomorrow night, there’s a beach bonfire.” His finger extended, curled a stray piece of hair out of your eyes. “Something the locals do every year to kick off summer.”
You smiled—genuinely smiled, not just a flash of teeth forced in order to hide a grimace. Not the smiles you got so used to giving Jack. “And you’re telling me this because…”
Banter. He could tell you knew where he was getting, yet wanted him to spell it out anyway. “Go with me? I think you’d enjoy it,” he said, voice gentle over the lap of waves against the shore. You could almost feel the world hold its breath, awaiting your answer. Would you cling to a hope and dream, or go with what was sitting in front of you? “Plus, having a pretty girl with a perfect personality on my arm wouldn’t hurt too bad.”
“Hmm…” You faked contemplation, tapping your chin. When Jackson flicked your forehead, you scoffed, batting at his hand. “Well now I’m reconsidering my answer, ass.”
Warm fingers wrapped around your wrist, caught it midair, a fish hooked on a line. Feverish, a heat you’d only associated with one person your whole life rose to your head as Jackson’s eyes met yours. Not blue, green. Your mind didn’t even attempt to paint over them, to erase his color, to make him him. Lips wet by eager tongues, a mutual desire. When had you last even considered another man romantically, sexually?
The answer was: not since Jack Hughes barged his way into your life and trapped your heart behind a wall, tossing away the key.
Before anything could be realized, before you could experience your first kiss in what felt like forever, a dull vibrating ripped the moment to shreds. Annoyance flashed in your heart, and a part of you told you to ignore it—but you couldn’t. What if something had gone wrong? Apologetically, you tore your eyes away from Jackson and dug your phone out of your back pocket.
The name flashing on the screen had your heart clenching.
Jack.
“Yes?” Confused, clipped. Why was Jack calling you?
“Oh, uh, hey,” came Jack’s voice—you frowned at his tone. He sounded as if he didn’t even know why he was calling. “I was just… calling to see when you’d be home tonight.”
A scream bubbled in your throat. This is why he was calling you? “This could have been a text.”
Jack laughed dryly. “Guess so. Figured you wouldn’t have seen it.”
You didn’t want to admit he was right. “It’s what…” You took your phone away from your face to look at the time. 8:43. “8:43? I’m not sure, Jack. We’re still at the cove.”
Shuffling on the other end. Your eyes darted to Jackson; he seemed intrigued at who was calling you. “Right, well… Luke wanted to know, so…”
You frowned. “Then why didn’t Luke call me?”
“Playing Chel,” was all you got in response.
Pettiness whirled in your chest like a maelstrom. For once you had the upper hand; cards hidden against your chest, not splayed out for all to see. Maybe with the right move, Jack would fold after so many years of winning. It was childish, you knew that, but the child in you who’d hoped and hoped and hoped only to get turned down every single time awoke—wanted Jack to feel the burn she’d felt when he’d sunk his hooks into her heart.
“I may not come home tonight,” you told him, relished in the pause. Jackson’s eyes flickered to you, curious.
“What?” Jack asked, voice darkened with knowing and other terrible emotions. “What do you mean?”
He knew very well what you meant.
“Absolutely fucking not.” You resisted the urge to recoil at the scorching flame simmering in Jack’s tone; he rarely ever spoke to anyone like that, least of all you. “You met him this week, Bells. If you aren’t home by 10:30 I’m coming to find you.”
Rage flared. You weren’t sure why. Maybe because you could pretend like he cared. As if he had any right to tell you when you had to be home. “So what? Now I have a curfew?” You didn’t want Jackson to overhear the spat, but it’s clear he was watching, listening, picking apart the conversation. “Forgot the part where you were my mother, Jack.”
“You’re staying in my house,” he retorted sharply. “10:30. I’m not kidding.”
After that, the line went dead.
Fire lashed in your veins, threatening to burn your being to ash. How dare he? Just as you inched out of the cage, he tries to drag you back in. Why did he care now? Why couldn’t he have before?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Tears taunted you. Tried to slip past your eyes. You had given so many tears to Jack, expected him to bottle them and place them on a shelf, a reminder to never hurt you again. He never did. The moon’s rays were a solace, an extended comfort from who knew loneliness better than anything. Soft fingers touched your arm, didn’t push—only rested there, a reminder of consolation.
“He’s like an older brother, huh?” Jackson tried to alleviate your melancholy, revive your playful spirit like a necromancer.
It only made you sadder. If only Jack were like an older brother, if only your heart hadn’t chosen him to beat for.
“Yeah,” you chuckled dryly. “Let’s be glad he won’t be there tomorrow.”
A bright grin tugged on Jackson’s lips. “So you’re coming?”
You smiled.
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10:15.
The bright light of your phone screen cut through the darkness as you walked up the sandy driveway to the beach house. The departing rumble of Jackson’s 4Runner interrupted the ballad sung by the cicadas and crickets, a sound that followed you all the way to the front door. Sliding your sunflower-adorned key out of your pocket, you fiddled with the lock before finally managing your way into the house. The biting cold of the summer night was promptly chased away by the inviting warmth, but you found yourself unwilling to remove Jackson’s green cardigan. Plastic buttons twirled between your fingers, a few stitches unraveled. Well-worn, loved—smelled like summer nights and escape. You smiled to yourself.
The hum of the TV, along with its vibrant glow startled you as you crossed into the living room area. Despite the somewhat early time, you hadn’t expected anyone to be awake. But there Luke was, curled up on the couch, watching Grease. You could have laughed if you weren’t more aware; Luke had always had a major small crush on Sandy, his guilty pleasure movie, one that came with summer nights and hours talking into the AM. Rounding the foot of the couch, you plopped down next to Luke, startling him out of what appeared to be oncoming sleep.
“Back already?” he asked groggily, clearing the gravel out of his throat. He straightened, blinked a few times. “I take it you didn’t get laid.”
You glared at Luke, silently cursed his teenage-boyishness. “Not everyone fucks on the first date, dick,” you retorted, smiling. “Someone here gave me a curfew. Said he’d come looking for me if I didn’t come back in time; I wasn’t too keen on testing him.”
Luke rolled his eyes. “Cockblock,” he muttered. “Which of them was it? Quinn? He seems like the type.”
“The other one,” you corrected, earning a confused look from Luke. “Exactly! That’s what I thought. Also, did you ask Jack to ask me when I’d be home?”
“No,” Luke drawled, raising an eyebrow. “Why would I?”
That son of a bitch.
Was he just dead set on denying you happiness? Why couldn’t he just admit to caring even a little about you? Why dress up good deeds as the requests of others? Nothing about Jack made sense; it never had. You supposed that was part of the appeal, the mystery of it all. A puzzle gathering dust on the shelf, tried and forgotten for its difficulty. You’d always had a knack for choosing the hardest games.
You waved Luke off, not wanting to hear his conspiracies tonight. Maybe tomorrow, when you didn’t have the weight of a thousand unanswered questions close to caving in your chest. “Nothing,” you said. “Are Quinn and Jack awake?”
Luke eyed you. He saw through you—always had. Yet, for the sake of your dwindling sanity, chose silence. “Quinn isn’t, no,” he told you. “Went to bed like an hour ago.”
“Old man,” you commented, earning a laugh. “And Jack?”
Luke’s eyes flickered to the door leading to the back porch. A warm orange glow was visible through the drawn curtains. “He’s in the pool, I think.”
You nodded. Came to a resolution in your withering heart. “Right,” you murmured, standing. Before departing, you pressed a kiss to Luke’s cheek. “Night, Luke. Go up to your room, if you fall asleep here, I won’t be able to carry you to your bed.”
Luke rolled his eyes, nudged your leg with his knee. “How unfortunate.” Then, he stood, and disappeared up the stairs.
Dread swarmed in your stomach like a tornado, wrecking every defense you’d built up these past weeks to keep out a certain boy. You feared damage control wouldn’t be enough this time, that you couldn’t rebuild if Jack shut you down now. But you had to confront him, had to at least tell him to stop controlling you if nothing else. This summer was meant to be your closure, the final chapter in a book you never thought would end. It felt more like the procession to the grave, not the closing of a door.
What if losing your love for Jack lost you him?
The back door swung open with a squeal, piercing the once thick silence. With your presence swiftly outed, you forewent attempting discreetness, and eased out onto the pool deck. Fingers of frost grabbed for your exposed skin, only combated by Jackson’s cardigan. Bones rattling, you wondered why on earth Jack was going for a swim right now of all times.
You heard the lapping of water, roused by movement, before you saw him. The fluorescent underwater lightning cut through the darkness and reflected on your face, a myriad of whites and blues that was distinctly Jack. When you came to the pools edge, your eyes focused on him—clad in nothing but a pair of blue swim shorts—floating ok his back, eyes closed, as if imagining himself in a different place. You almost felt sorry to ruin the fabrication of his mind. Remembering your anger, you pushed aside the feeling. Why should he be given peace when he’d never given you any?
Before you could even open your mouth, his eyes opened, as if sensing you. He adjusted, treading water, as you merely assessed each other. Waiting. Who would draw first? You. It had always been you.
“I’m home now,” you bit out, your leash gone; Jackson wasn’t here to judge you. “Happy?”
Water lapped at Jack’s collarbones. You almost envied it for being able to touch him so freely. His eyes darted around you, then stopped on the cardigan. Forest green, like Jackson’s eyes. You knew he knew; you hadn’t been wearing it when you left.
“Cute,” he commented, sarcastic and dripping with cruelty you’d never heard from him before. He parted the water with ease, as if he expected everything to bend to his will.
Jack stopped where you stood at the edge. You looked down on him for once, a prick of pride stinging you as for once you had the high ground. For once, he wasn’t able to confine you with his overwhelming presence and being. Fingers curled around the edge of the pool, his hair dripping tears of chlorine-tainted water down his face, Jack merely watched you, waiting a scolding, the tantrum of a child who had what she wanted torn away.
You thought if unfair someone could be so beautiful, especially when he could never be yours.
“What is your issue?” you snapped finally, folding your arms, protecting your glass heart from his insults he’d fire like arrows. “I asked Luke, he said he never asked you what time I’d be home. Was it fun for you? To ruin my date?”
Jack scoffed. Arms corded with muscle flexed, rose from the water; a heave and he was on his feet in front of you, your leverage lost. Water bled off his body like a torrent, soaking your shoes. Droplets flicked on Jackson’s cardigan, the water staining through. You stepped back instinctively, throat tight. You hated how, even now, he had an effect on you.
“Ruin?” he echoed, eyebrows creased. “Don’t be dramatic. It wasn’t like you were planing on staying out with him past 10:30. I was doing you a favor, giving you an out.”
Classic Jack; thinking he knew better than everyone else. “You weren’t, actually,” you hissed. “I didn’t need an out, Jack; I was enjoying myself. So much so I’m going out with him again tomorrow night.”
That was unnecessary to say, you knew. A bite only given to wound him, to prove you were capable of rising from your knees and tearing down the shrine you’d devoted to him for years. Because if Jack Hughes was no longer your sun, you didn’t need to revolve around him—shine only when he was near. Pathetic and driven by childish need to probe yourself, you wanted Jack to hurt—even if you knew he never would, that he couldn’t care less about who you loved and who you were with.
You just wished that he did.
A flicker of confusion. A frown, and then, “What?”
“Jackson invited me to the beginning of summer beach bonfire,” you told him, watching Jack’s jaw tense. You wanted to look away, but couldn’t—he’d always been so encapsulating. “It’s tomorrow night.”
His presence invaded every defense you’d placed up. Chin tipped to look at him, you felt suddenly claustrophobic, as if boxed in—everywhere you looked was him. Deep breaths made each muscle of his chest flex and tense, well-sculpted from years of punishing activity. You hated the flush that almost burned your face. You hated the thunder of your pulse that drowned out any noise but your racing heart. You hated the effect he had on you.
“You aren’t going,” he said simply, as if he had any say.
You frowned. “Yes, I am.”
Jack’s lip wrinkled. Condescension dripped from his voice. “No, you aren’t.”
You could have strangled him. You really could have. “You aren’t my father, Jack. You can’t tell me what I can and can’t do. I’m going.”
He smiled at you. Smiled like he thought you opposition was funny. “You met this guy this week, Bells,” he said, as if it were obvious. “Not only that, you have no idea who’s going to be at this bonfire. What if something goes wrong? You think Golden Boy is going to play the white knight?”
Ignoring what Jack had called Jackson, you turned to leave. You were absolutely not having this argument with him. Not when it was ultimately your decision and your life. Before you could even make it a step, a wet hand clamped around your arm, fingers closing around you like a vice—Jack spun you, unsteadying you. In an effort to save yourself a trip straight down, you threw up your hands, connecting palms with the rigid plane of Jack’s chest. Heat rose to your face, a feverish high sinking the logic of your brain. All of a sudden, you were sixteen again hoping Jack would come out of his room while you were in the hallway.
Breath deepened, you searched for an out—a way to defend yourself. The sword lying at your palms was cheap, but effective, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous.”
But you did know better. And you knew he wasn’t; you just wished he was.
Jack smiled. Predatory. “Of Jackson?” Fingers loosened—you took the chance to escape, pulling yourself free of Jack’s hold. “If you’re going to try and make me jealous, maybe do it with someone who doesn’t have my fucking name.”
He breezed past you, disappearing inside like a shadow.
You looked down. Eyes grazing the cardigan. A wet handprint stained the arm. Jack’s handprint.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆
Smoke thickened the air into a husky, palpable haze. Dozens of conversations overlapped into one massive dissonance, drowning out the harsh crash of waves upon the shoreline. Bathed in an amber glow provided by a massive fire housed upon a hearth of triangularly-laid sticks, the beach was alive with drinking and laughing and dancing. Sand cushioned your feet, sandals dangling in your hands. Jackson haunted your side, keeping close. He led you in deeper, parting throngs of people like the Red Sea. Greeting a few of them, introducing you.
Excitement turned your blood hot. Rebellion made it all the sweeter. Despite Jack’s vehement opposition against your coming here, you’d done it anyway. When the boys had decided to get a few drinks at the new bar that opened up, you feigned sun sickness as a result of a day at the beach. Whether or not they believed you didn’t matter much—they’d left, which allowed you the chance to be here.
All you had to do was be home before them, which shouldn’t have been difficult. They’d be home in the early hours of the morning.
Mingling with Jackson was simple enough—people didn’t much care who you were. Just that you existed. Beers were handed to you, drank quickly. You wanted to have fun, to let yourself exist without the shackle that was Jack Hughes dragging you back from any romantic venture. A heated hand slipped in your own; Jackson smiled at you. Stomach knotted in a ball, you downed the rest of your White Claw and grinned back.
“You feelin’ okay?” he asked, bending down to better carry his voice to you. The proximity of his face warmed your chest.
“Mhm,” you hummed, relishing in the head rush. Being drunk wasn’t something you did often, what with being underage. There were parts you hated, parts you sought. Like the current buzz of warmth that whispered false confidence through your bloodstream.
The confidence that made you lead Jackson to the water’s edge, hidden from the glow of the fire, shadows outlined by the light of the moon. Rosy-cheeked, you tossed your arms around Jackson’s neck and peered up at him. Although his countenance was lost in the darkness, you could make out blown pupils overtaking his eyes, parted lips lightly doused in alcohol. Water lapped at your feet, danced around your ankles. You didn’t care. Everything in your mind was screaming at you to just do it—kiss him and get it over with, get over with Jack.
Jack.
You hated that even in a moment like this, your mind went to Jack.
It was then—arms tossed around Jackson’s neck, the waves kissing your bare legs—that you realized you’d never let go of Jack. You couldn’t. He was too well in your heart, the patchwork of two souls. If you could, you would turn tail and run, find happiness on the road of abandonment. You wouldn’t have to worry about being alone, isolated simply because people found a piece of your life more interesting than the whole. You wouldn’t have to rebuild your shattered heart when another summer passed by without Jack loving you. You wouldn’t need to remind your heart not to give in to his toothy smile and infectious laugh.
But then, you wouldn’t have Jack. His smile, the devil’s disguise, a shot of oxytocin to the system. Touching of skin, unintentional yet entirely wanted, setting ablaze the wildfire that burned down your castle of wood. Nights spent by the pool, his face illuminated by the glow of underwater lights. The way he made your heart break and mend all at once, the high of a drug that you could never quit. Every time, you relapsed, reminded yourself why you loved Jack—why he was your favorite love, your only one. He didn’t want you for anything, he didn’t even want you.
And maybe it was that; the hypothetical, the possibility. The construct you’d built inside your head, trying to fit into the narrative every summer, but never getting the part.
“Jackson?”
He looked down at you. Green, not blue. Never blue. “Yeah?”
“I don’t think—”
All at once, your arms were falling, cradling empty space as Jackson was ripped away from your touch. A splash of water sent droplets launching into your skin and clothes. You shrieked, stumbled, looked for the culprit. And of course—there Jack stood, huffing, as if he’d run to you. You could barely make out his face, but you didn’t need to; you’d know him blind, by touch alone. Your eyes went down to Jackson, body engulfed in the shallow water. You pieced it together, came into the frantic understanding that Jack had pushed Jackson.
Immediately, you went to help Jackson, only to be tugged back by your elbow. “Jack! What the hell?”
He didn’t grace you with an answer—didn’t even look at you, actually. Those stormy blue eyes were on Jackson, murderous and heated. He shoved you behind him. “What are you doing, huh?” he barked. “Did you know you were giving a minor alcohol? She’s twenty, you fucking idiot!”
Tears of frustration turned your eyes wet, and air became scarce. You wanted to do something, but what could you even do? Jack was accustomed to ignoring you. Stares nipped at the back of your head. Conversation dulled into a lapse.
“Jack, enough,” you begged, the sheer desperation in your voice normally something you’d hate—you couldn’t be bothered to care now. “Please. I’m fine. It wasn’t Jackson’s fault. He didn’t do anything.”
“Stop,” Jack interrupted, eyes flashing to you, a warning. “I told you not to come. Stay out of this, Bells.”
“I had no idea, dude, I swear!” Jackson responded, pulling himself up from the water. Soaked head-to-toe, and dully embarrassed. “She did it herself, I didn’t offer her anything!”
It soured your mouth he was trying to shift the blame to you, even if he was being honest. Your eyes flicked to Jack, and all at once you were reminded why you chose to love him.
His hair was tousled, worked one too many times by frustrated fingers. Eyes wild and concerned, so raw that you could’ve convinced yourself he was that cut by your situation. You knew it wasn’t you; he was just a good person, an empathetic one. But still, you liked to imagine. You’d spent your life imagining what it would be like for him to love you.
“Jack, please, just—”
“Don’t you dare blame her,” Jack’s voice was strangled, as if barely bypassing a wall of fury. “What the fuck do you think this is? The blame game? I don’t care who gave her the alcohol. You brought her here.”
“Please, Jack, let’s just go,” you pleaded, voice tight—embarrassment crawled up your spine like the cold. Everyone was looking, observing the screaming match you’d unfortunately found yourself a part of. “People are looking.”
“I don’t give a shit,” he hissed, advancing on Jackson. Chest-to-chest. A size up; one you hoped wouldn’t result in traded blows. You’d never seen Jack so angry, so wrought with violence. He’d always been docile—kind.
“Why do you care?” Jackson finally snapped, shoving Jack backwards. You tried to intercede, only to be shut down. “She said she wasn’t your girlfriend. Stop acting like a jealous dick.”
Jack laughed. He turned around, facing you as he spoke. “She may not be mine,” he conceded, “but she sure as hell will never be yours.”
Everything was happening to quickly. Your mind struggled to process the entire interaction, how quickly it had all gone sour. Before you could question Jack, scold him, consider the root of his rage, you were being lifted by the middle, and promptly tossed over Jack’s shoulder.
Air fled your lungs, your head pulsed—both from the swift movement and your consumption of what was likely too much alcohol. Jack’s hand stayed on you, keeping you steady as he carried you through the crowd, cutting through blots of people who all looked just as confused as you felt. Anger sparked then, fanned by embarrassment and anger and frustration.
Slamming your fists into Jack’s well-muscled back, you spewed profanities at him. “Put me down, asshole!” He didn’t. Kept walking, over the boardwalk and into the parking lot. Jackson’s 4Runner taunted you. “Jack, let me go! Jack!”
And he did. Your feet felt unfamiliar as he placed you down with little preempt. He steadied you before you could fall, kept a hand on your arm even after. Your heart felt pulled in a million directions, throat filling up with sand—fossilizing in your own skin, mortification sawing pieces off of your soul. Jack looked furious, pacing in front of you. His silver Mercedes gleamed in the moonlight.
“Bells—” He cut himself off. His throat bobbed, ran a hand through his already messed hair. “What the hell were you thinking?”
Your teeth bared. “Me? And what about you, barging into my night and accusing my date of being a criminal? The fuck is wrong with you, Jack?”
Jack laughed. Mocking, mean. You half-wanted to punch him, felt the itch in your fingers. “Oh, forgive me for trying to help you,” he hissed. “What if cops had busted the bonfire, huh? If they’d got you? Do I have to remind you that you’re twenty, Bells? That’s a felony.”
He was right, and you hated it. “But did you have to do all that? Jackson didn’t even give me the alcohol, why did you push him into the water?”
“I already said I don’t care who gave it to you,” Jack grunted, closing in on you. A step back, and you felt your back press into the cold metal of his car. “He was with you. He let you drink.”
You rolled your eyes, tried to muster up a semblance of control. “He doesn’t know my age, Jack.”
“Then he’s a fucking idiot.”
Scoffing, you shoved him away from you. “Oh, is he? Or were we just on a second date, one that you completely ruined! He’s never going to speak to me again, Jack, so thank you for that!”
Faintly, you wondered how you went from adoring Jack to despising him. Maybe it was always meant to be like this. There was a fine line between love and hate.
Eyes flashing, Jack rounded on you. “A second date you shouldn’t have been on,” he snapped. “I told you not to go.”
“New flash: you’re not my keeper,” you said, feeling the anger wane into something worse—fatigue. You didn’t want to fight. Fighting with Jack felt like fighting a part of yourself. “How’d you even find me? You guys were at the bar.”
Jack paused; he noticed your deflated shoulders, sullen face. “SnapMap,” is what he said. He didn’t expand, and you didn’t ask him to.
Silence felt like the worse fog—thick and impenetrable, falling over you like a suffocating blanket. You didn’t know what to say. What could you even say? Jack would never tell you why he was so upset, you didn’t want to ask—didn’t want to hear another made up story he’d spew just to tear apart the hope in your heart.
It hit you then that maybe Jack did love you—or care about you in some capacity, but he’d never admit it. Dancing in circles, a choreography that never ended, you’d never know what Jack truly wanted; didn’t know if he even did. Probably figured you’d screw it up, would ruin a friendship—his and yours, yours and Luke’s. It was a losing battle either way. Every word he uttered cut to the bone, because it was meant to. When the shift started, you didn’t know. Maybe when he realized you were not always going to kneel at his alter, when you tried to escape.
Maybe then he understood, and still avoided—lied, all to protect himself and his brother. He knew, you knew. One wanted, the other avoided. None of it ended well. Heaven was breakable, and he couldn’t dare threaten his own peace. Not even to have you.
You knew then where you stood.
“Why?”
He shook his head, chewed on his lip. “Don’t.”
“Please, Jack,” you whispered. “You owe me an explanation.”
Did he not believe in love? Had a girl hurt him? Was it really Luke, or something else? Why wouldn’t he just try?
“Bells, don’t.”
Your hand reached out. Hoping, praying—it brushed his shirt-clad chest. He didn’t move back, finally looked at you. “You owe it to me, at least. I’ll drop it, I’ll never ask again.”
“We’d just… we’d screw it up,” he managed out, the blue of his eyes richening into a navy. His eyes darted around your face. “I can’t…”
What did it matter anymore? Everything was being bared. All of it. Your fear disappeared into dust; the yearning for a conclusion to this twisted knot of a love died. Just like it always did with Jack—you’d want him, try to forget him, and fail. A never ending loop. But before there had been no chance, now—now you weren’t sure.
“Can’t what?”
Jack didn’t respond. He dug into his pocket. Grabbed his key. “Get in the car.”
The stark change of situation caught you cold. “What—?” You shook your head. You weren’t going to lose this opportunity. “Jack, no. Talk to me. Please.”
“Get in the fucking car.”
You didn’t budge for a moment, then finally, “Okay.”
The drive was silent, thick with awkwardness. What could you say? You’d been so close to coming clean, to finally—after five years—admitting everything. It seemed like Jack had too, but something stopped him. Something always stopped him. You wished you could pick his brain, lay it all out to see the moment he’d stopped seeing you as a ghost, as Luke’s high school best friend. All because you’d tried to move on, because you’d hoped for happiness beyond his black hole persona. But of course, he always managed to drag you back in.
“It’s not fair,” you muttered aloud, semi-an accident. Jack’s eyes snapped to you, the dark road rolling out in front of you.
He worked his jaw. Adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. “What isn’t?”
“You,” you grunted, looking out the window. “I try to be happy, move on. You’ve never wanted me before, I didn’t think it would matter. But when I try, you turn it into World War III.”
Jack didn’t say anything. Barely even moved. You wanted to scream, to leap out of the car, if only to see if he’d care enough to come back for you.
“Why now, Jack? Why not before?” you whimpered. Alcohol made you pathetic, even more so than usual. “What changed?”
“Bells,” he warned, nostrils flaring.
“No,” you protested, swiveling your body his way. “I deserve an answer, Jack. Please.”
Silence still.
“Stop the car.”
Jack looked at you. Up and down, before his focus returned to the road. “No. Stop having a tantrum.”
That nearly sent you into a murderous rage. “Stop the car or I’m jumping out.”
Jack scoffed. “You’re not going to jump out of a moving car.”
You clicked off the lock. Fingers tested the handle. When you tore the door open, the alarm blared; wind whipped your arm as you gripped the door, the darkened road greeting your eyes. Thankfully, no one else was out this late. Jack grabbed you with his free hand, slammed on the breaks and veered off onto the side of the road, just beyond the dunes. Beachgrass surrounded the car, the distant buzz of crickets the only thing you could hear as Jack cursed at you. Unbuckling his seatbelt and slamming the door shut, Jack glared at you.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he snapped. You felt something akin to pride; he finally had a reaction to something. Cared enough to stop you.
“You won’t answer me,” you said, eyes darting around his face. The emergency interior lights of the car blinked into existence, lighting up your bodies. Jack’s face was flushed, eyes wild. “Please, just—”
“Fuck, stop saying that,” came Jack’s strangled plead, his head dropping.
You blinked at him. Confusion welled like a storm in your eyes. “What? Please?”
Silence. Jack’s head raised lazily, he looked distressed, mouth parted ever so slightly. A hand ran through his hair, mussed it more. “Fuck,” he cursed, low and gravely. “Luke is going to kill me.”
What was he on about? He looked like he was struggling, his hand gripping the steering wheel which such force his knuckles blanched. “What?”
“You’re his best friend,” Jack said. His tongue darted out to lick his lips. “If I… Bells, please…”
You had no idea what to do. What to say. “Jack, what do you mean? You aren’t making any sense.”
“I want to fuck you,” he bit out, leveling you with a furious look, as if he hated himself for that very fact. “But I can’t. If Luke found out, he’d hate you, or me, or us both. I can’t risk that, Bells, I can’t.”
He sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than you. The very fact that he wanted to sleep with you sent you into a dizzy spell; normally, you would’ve wept with happiness at the sheer fact that Jack Hughes wanted you, in any capacity, but all you felt now was a resounding emptiness. He wanted to fuck you, to have you carnally, without anything attached. You loved him; not because he could give you brief pleasure, but because you knew how many freckles were on his back, how he drove with his left hand predominantly, how he quoted Camus but never actually read him.
It occurred to you then that this summer was different. Not because you were getting closure, or because Jack Hughes finally loved you back, but because you finally understood that the devotion you’d put in him for years should have been put in yourself.
You looked at Jack, and for once, didn’t feel that biting desire to touch him, to be wanted by him; now you knew you were, but for what? For once night, just to fade into obscurity? Either you had Jack entirely or not at all. You couldn’t tease yourself with a taste only to never be given the full experience. You didn’t think you’d survive the memory of it.
“I love you,” you said. Watched his reaction. The confession felt like the greatest heartbreak and the biggest relief.
He said nothing back.
And you weren’t heartbroken that he didn’t. You were relieved. Free.
#jack hughes#nj devils#nhl smut#nhl#hockey imagine#hockey smut#jack hughes imagine#jack hughes fanfic#jack hughes x reader#luke hughes#quinn hughes#jack hughes smut#nhl imagine#nhl imagines#hockey
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SWEETEST GIFT — LUKE HUGHES
luke hughes x fem!reader
12 DAYS OF KINKMAS
summary: in which Luke gives y/n the sweetest gift, resulting in an eventful christmas night
warnings: anxiety, NSFW CONTENT, praise, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v (protected). (5k words)
notes: merry christmas and welcome to the final day of kinkmas! i hope you’ve all enjoyed these past 12 days and that everyone has a wonderful holiday! this is the longest fic of them all because apparently i’m actually incapable of writing a short luke smut…
i’m late.
it’s arguably the most important date so far in my relationship, and i’m late.
i don’t mean to be, obviously; the last thing i wanna do is make a bad first impression on my boyfriend’s teammates, but under the circumstances, it was completely out of my control.
i told my family several times that i needed to be out the door by four o’clock, and i thought they understood that. but then christmas breakfast turned into christmas brunch and gifts were opened late and then my mother insisted i stayed until my little cousins arrived and i still had to get changed and it was a chaotic mess all the way until i got out the door.
at five o’clock.
an entire hour later than i was supposed to leave.
so now here i am, having driven barefoot to my boyfriends apartment and only just now pulling my boots on, messy bun unreasonably… messy, and his gift having fallen onto the floor of my car after some definite traffic law violations in order to arrive as quick as possible.
once my boots are zipped securely on my feet, i’m leaning almost entirely over the center console, my hand patting at the passengers side floor until i finally grasp the present; a box wrapped in shiny red paper.
i quickly stumble out of the car, slamming the door shut behind me before i take off into the apartment complex. the wait for the elevator feels infinite, and the ride up even longer, but i finally reach the apartment door.
faint music drifts through the cracked open door, the sounds of multiple men talking each other overpowering the melodies that play, and i knock lightly upon the wood. after one more knock and two minutes of nobody answering, i push the door open, peeking my head in to find nobody in the entry way.
tip-toeing in, i close the door behind me, the short heels of my boots clicking against the hardwood floor as i shrug my coat off, hanging it on the overcrowded coat rack by the door before i wander further into the apartment.
i determine the source of the voices as the kitchen, but opt to veer off and drop Luke’s present off in his bedroom before i join them, as i know we won’t be exchanging gifts until after dinner. i set the gift on his bed, leaving his bedroom door open on my way out, but rather than walking into the empty hallway, i find myself colliding with a hard chest as someone leaves the restroom.
“oh shit, sorry!” i squeak, looking up to find a confused face staring back at me.
the unfamiliar man is tall, at least a couple inches taller than my boyfriend, with blue-green eyes and brown buzzed hair. he stares down at me a frown and threaded brows.
“excuse me, are you supposed to be here?” he questions, and i nod quickly, swallowing harshly as i try to push down the anxiety of meeting this new person.
i glance down the hallway in hopes that Luke will miraculously appear, but i can still hear him laughing in the kitchen, “yes, yeah! i am!”
the man narrows his eyes at me, “yeah, ‘cause that didn’t sound suspicious.”
he stalks down the hallway quickly towards the kitchen, my shorter legs following behind him.
“guys, there’s a girl over here! never seen her before!” the man calls out, his voice carrying over the sound of all the others and gaining the guys attention.
one by one i see heads peeking out from the kitchen, making me stop in my tracks. my hands shake with anxiety as they all peer back at me, some faces looking frustrated or annoyed, until finally my boyfriend emerges from the kitchen.
a small smile is painted across his lips, but it drops as he sees my nervous body languages. picking my steps back up, i walk slowly into his arms, incredibly perceptive of the amount of eyes that watch me.
“hi, angel.” Luke’s arms enclose around my waist, pulling me tight against him as he speaks.
“hi, Lukey. sorry, i’m late.” his body shakes as he chuckles, brushing off my apologies.
“it’s okay,” he assures me as i pull away, “i see you met Bass.”
i turn, my back pressing against Luke’s chest as his arm winds around to hug around my stomach, facing his teammates, who all seem a lot less menacing now that they know i’m not a crazy fangirl who found her way in.
“Bass,” i repeat, staring at the man whom i ran into. i rack my brain for a moment, trying to remember who Luke has said this man is in the past, “ah, yes, Nathan!”
Nathan nods with a smile, “you can just call me Nate or Bass, all the guys do. sorry about scaring you, didn’t realize you were Rusty’s girl.”
i bite back a laugh at my boyfriend’s hockey nickname. i’ve heard it before, but it’ll take some getting used to.
“it’s okay.”
Luke points out each friend, introducing them one by one until i’ve met all five; Nico, Dawson, John, Timo, and Nathan.
“and then you know Jack.” Luke waves his brother off, making me chuckle.
“yeah, hi, Jack.”
Jack smiles, “hi, y/n. there’s some wine in the kitchen, if you want some.”
the guys retreat to living room after Luke promises to check on the ham in the oven, guiding me into the kitchen. grabbing a wine glass from a cupboard, he fills it with a red wine before turning and leaning against the counter, handing the glass off to me.
“you look like you could use it.” he laughs, making me slap his chest in playful annoyance.
“i could! my family is batshit crazy,” i sigh, taking a big gulp of the wine before i set the glass down on the counter, “i was supposed to be here an hour ago but apparently my mother can’t tell time and lord knows i’m not allowed to leave until she deems christmas over.”
i walk myself between his slightly spread legs, dropping my forehead on his chest as i groan, “i just need food and cuddles.”
“well, i can check one thing off that list, but i can’t promise the ham will be edible, after all, Jack made it so…”
a giggle falls from my lips as i peer up into his eyes, shrugging my shoulders, “yeah, maybe i’ll stick to the mashed potatoes.”
the rest of the evening goes about as smoothly as i figured it would; i had to end up finishing the ham because i had absolutely no faith in Jack to not overcook it, the guys playfully teased Luke and told me funny stories of things he’s done on roadies or in the locker room, and we all sat around the living room and ate christmas dinner as Jack and Dawson heavily debated what the best christmas movie is.
finally, about three hours later, the guys took off to a local bar for some drinks and darts, Luke and i staying back in order to spend some alone time together.
“c’mon, i wanna give you your gift.” Luke smiles, hand slipping into mine as we rise from the couch, walking down the hallways and into his room.
he shuts the door behind us, grabbing a small, poorly wrapped present off of his dresser before we both sit on his bed.
“okay, wait, you first.” i tell him, picking the red present up off the mattress and pushing it into his hands.
my boyfriend was a bit difficult to shop for, seeing ad when he wants something, he usually just buys it. but i figured i could never go wrong by combining something he loves with one of his favorite hobbies.
he hands me my present, but i wait to unwrap it until he wraps his, rather enjoying watching him shed the paper from the box. a smile spreads across his face as he looks up at me.
“it’s a lego model of the UMich football stadium! i figured it was something for you to do over the next couple free days, or just whenever you want, but i thought it was perfect because you love building lego sets and you love michigan and-”
my ramble is cut off gently by his lips, his hand cupping my cheek as he kisses me slowly.
“i love it,” he says as he pulls away, eyes gazing straight into mine as he smiles, “it’s extremely thoughtful. maybe you can help me build it?”
i nod, leaning in to press my lips against his once more, “if you want me to, i’ll happily do so. or i’ll just keep you company as you build it.”
“that sounds great, angel. alright, you’re turn!”
i giggle at his enthusiasm, looking down at the small gift in my hands. i slowly peel the wrapping paper off, making a mental note to teach him how to wrap in the new year, until i finally unveil a velvet jewelry box.
my eyes widen, flickering up to my boyfriend in surprise, but he just gives me a small, encouraging nod.
flipping open the top, a simple yet beautiful necklace comes into view; a dainty silver chain with a tiny, minimalistic ‘L’ in the middle.
“oh my god,” i breathe out, my hand rising to my lips in shock, “Luke, this is beautiful.”
“i thought maybe you could wear it when you come to watch me play.” his cheeks blush a rosy pink as i look back up at him, obviously a bit more self-conscious now than he was merely minutes ago.
“can you put it on me?” i ask him, and he nods, taking the box from my hands in order to pull the necklace from the velvet interior.
i twist around, holding my hair up and allowing him to gently clasp the necklace around my neck. his fingers graze the back of my neck, sending shockwaves throughout my body as he makes sure the necklace is secure before he lets go, his hands smoothing over my shoulders and down my arms when he finishes.
i turn again, facing him once more as my hand reaches up to my collarbone, my fingertips running over the cool metal as i grin.
“it’s so beautiful, Lukey. i love it.” i cup his cheeks, pulling his face forward to press an excited kiss against his lips.
i kiss him breathlessly, our lips locking as i crawl into his lap, one leg on each side of his body, “i love you.”
i tense after the three monumental words leave my mouth, a heat of the moment confession that i wasn’t sure he was ready to hear; but, i know i’ve been ready to say.
“shit, you- uh- you don’t have to say it back. please, don’t feel like you have to say it if you aren’t ready. i mean, i know i was ready, but that doesn’t mean you have to be. you can take your ti-”
for the second time tonight, my words are shortened by my boyfriend’s lips against mine, a smile fighting against his facial muscles as he kisses me.
“i love you too.” he whispers.
my heart races, beating so strongly it feels as though it’s about to escape my chest, but my body relaxes, my eyes gazing into his as i sigh.
“you do?”
he nods, hands rubbing gently up my sides in comforting movements, “i do. i love you so much.”
i’m overwhelmed with relief and joy, the corners of my lips quirking up in a wide grin; absolutely bewitched by the beautiful boy in front of me.
i’m not sure what i’ve done in life to have deserved someone as kind, humorous, and caring as Luke; someone who gets me sweet, thoughtful gifts; who does anything to ease my anxiety the moment he spots the signs; who loves me for exactly who i am, and who reminds me every day that i’m gorgeous and perfect in my own way. but, i know that i’m incredibly grateful to have him in my life, and i want to share all of life’s beautiful moments with him.
my lips descend upon his, a breathy sigh blowing from my nose as my eyes flutter closed, pulling him deeper into the kiss with my grip on the back of his neck. his hands still on my waist, fingers gripping a little tighter as i begin to rock my hips slowly against his.
he groans into my lips, hands stilling my hips as he pulls away, our faces still close enough that i can feel his breath against my lips, and i whine at the loss of the delicious feeling that had begun rolling through my body.
“you gotta stop, angel.” he gulps, voice tight and shaky, “if you don’t, i’m gonna have a… situation, and i don’t wanna make you feel like you have to do anything yet.”
my skin feels hot, uncomfortable even, and i register it quickly as want.
despite the fact that Luke and i haven’t actually done anything yet, it’s not like i’m unfamiliar with being horny, or even having had sex. i just wanted to take things slow him; wanted to take time to enjoy our relationship without the physicality that’s made my past relationships messy.
i heave in a breath, my chest brushing against his, and the feeling of my peaked nipples skimming against his hard body makes me all the more aroused.
“i’m ready, Lukey.” i tell him in a breathy whine.
his eyes flicker in size, swallowing harshly before he speaks, “are you sure?”
“yes.” i nod, placing a short kiss on his lips, “i’m ready, and now is the perfect time; the apartment is empty, it’s just us two, and i love you so much.”
“if you don’t want to, i’m not pushing! i’m okay with just watching a movie or cuddling, we don’t have to do anything.” i add.
Luke’s hand cradles my face, pulling me into another kiss, “of course, i want to. you’re the most stunning, most thoughtful and sweetest girl i’ve ever met; i’d be a damn fool not to want this.”
i bite back a giggle, blood rushing to my cheeks from his affectionate words.
“but i don’t want you to feel rushed. i’ll wait as long as you want, because i don’t want you to feel like you have to sleep with me just because i said i love you.”
“i don’t feel like that.” i shake my head, the back of my hand ghosting over his cheek, “i really want this, Luke. i mean it. i feel safe with you, i trust you.”
he smiles, a divine smile that makes my heart do flips, overwhelmed with love for the pure soul that has entangled with mine in the absolute best ways.
“you trust me?” he echoes, hands sliding down to cup my ass, making me shiver in anticipation.
“mhm.”
with my hum of a response, i’m suddenly flipped over, my back bouncing onto the mattress, my hair sprawling over the pillows as my boyfriend hovers over top of me. his hot breath fans over my neck, lips pressing against my heated skin and making me sigh in contentment.
he paves a path with his lips, soft and slow, down to the collar of my sweater, the only sound in the room being my heavy pants and his wet kisses.
“Luke.” i sigh as his hands travel up my sides, sliding underneath my top. he hums against my collarbone, his thumbs grazing over my ribs until his hands cup underneath my breasts, my sweater bunched up.
chilled air hits against my stomach, my abdomen tightening in response, and i desire nothing more than to rid the layers between us.
“take it off me, please.”
he pulls away at my plea, hands shimmying my sweater up and over my head, pulling my arms free before he flings the fabric to the floor.
his eyes rake my body in silence for several moments, and i begin to feel self-consciousness creep up on me, my arms wrapping over my stomach. but he’s not having it, fingers enclosing around my wrists and pulling them away.
“uh-uh, none of that.” he whispers breathlessly, “you’re beautiful, angel. so fucking perfect.”
my cheeks flush, confidence filling me from the inside out as he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, his eyes blown out and darkened with lust.
“thank you.” he shakes his head at my response.
“don’t thank me.” he says, “if you knew the things i’m thinking of doing to you right now, you wouldn’t be thanking me.”
his words light a fire deep in my core, my panties dampening with every word that drops from his perfect lips.
“no, i think i would.” i rasp, voice low and dripping with lust, “i think i would want to thank you a million times over.”
“i need you so bad.” i confess.
my hands lock around his neck, pulling him back down to me. he kisses me in earnest, hips rolling down into mine, his quickly hardening erection pressing against my jean clad core.
i moan against him, a low guttural sound that pours out when his hands come up to massage my breasts over my padless red bra. he dips down, embedding open mouthed kisses upon my skin, leading down to my cleavage.
“can i?” he asks, fingers edging the cups of my bra, and i nod in approval.
he rolls his hips into mine again, my back arching, and he slips his hand underneath me, unhooking my bra with fumbling fingers. he pulls it off my body, once again discarding the clothing to the floor.
his thumbs circle my nipples and he watches me as my eyes fly shut, my lips parting as i let out a shaky breath in response to his actions.
“i’m the luckiest guy in the damn world.” he huffs, so quietly that i’m not sure he was even talking to me, more so whispering to himself.
“Luke, please,” i whine, “less talking, more touching.”
my words earn a melodious chuckle from his lips before he lowers his head to my chest, continuing to play with one nipple as the other gets extra attention. his tongue drags around the stiffed peak before its caught between his lips, softly sucked and grazed extra lightly by his teeth, making my body tremble.
after a few moments he switches, giving proper love to the other side. my leg hooks around his waist, hips bucking up to rub my clothes cunt against his now fully hardened erection.
my hands fist his shirt at his shoulder blades, tugging lightly.
“off,” i breathe, “i want this off. i wanna feel you.”
Luke pulls away from my breast, my nipple dropping from his mouth with a pop, and within seconds he’s leaning back, tugging the shirt over his head. suddenly it’s my turn to gape and stare.
obviously, i’ve seen him shirtless, but his body is one i’ll never tire of; the sight will forever and always make my heart beat faster, my core get wetter, and my soul sigh.
“take a picture, angel,” he winks, “it’ll last longer.”
he’s joking, but if i had my phone on me, i would.
“kiss me, please?”
i don’t have to say any more, those words enough to bring his lips back to mine, our bare chests pressing against one another. we take our time, tossing and turning in the bed, our lips rarely straying from each other’s, until i finally rid myself of my jeans, entirely too ready to move on.
“look at me,” he says, his lips dragging on my stomach as he speaks, “you trust me, yeah?”
“yes,” i nod, breath shaky, “i do.”
“i want you to relax. keep your eyes on me, angel.”
i nod again, eyes trained on his unruly mess of curls as his thumbs tuck into the waistband of my panties, his eyes lifting back to mine in await of approval. when i give him the go ahead, he’s pulling the last fabric that adorns my body down my thighs, past my calves, and throwing them onto the floor.
i lay stripped down in front of him, in a state of complete and utter vulnerability, yet too needy and love drunk to bring myself to care about the way i look.
he lays down on his stomach between my legs, making my breath hitch as his warm breath hits my wet pussy. but when i feel his tongue glide through my folds, tensing when he reaches my clit to provide pressure, that breath is released in a heavy yet quivering sigh.
my hands reach out to tangle in his curls as he slowly drags his tongue around my achingly wet cunt, flexing and flattening the oral muscle depending on where it is on my body.
“Lukey,” i pant, body shaking as his lips enclose around my puffy clit, rolling it between them lightly before letting it go.
he pulls back with a smile, juices glistening around his mouth and chin, “you think you can take my fingers, angel?”
“mhm,” i nod, “yes, please!”
he dives back in, this time picking up his pace; and not a moment later, i’m squirming, a cry of contentment echoing through the room as he pushes two fingers in, curling them up with every thrust he makes.
i’ve given up on words, relying on the sounds that fall from my lips to let him know how surreal his movements feel.
his fingers begin to scissor, adding a pleasurably painful stretch in order to help me ready for him, and at the same time, he flicks his tongue against my clit, successfully drawing my mind away from the pain and towards the immense pleasure he’s bringing me.
my stomach feels tight, pressure building with every movement of his tongue and every thrust of his fingers.
“i’m so close.” i tell him in a breathless whimper, my hips grinding down upon his face and hand.
he moans against me in response, vibrations reverberating through me, and my walls begin to tighten around his fingers, the familiar feeling of balancing on the edge of orgasm spreading through my body.
my thighs close around his head, but he just hums against me again, making my toes curl against the sheets.
“Luke, i’m gonna cum.” i warn him, voice tightly strained, my breath catching in my throat.
my body is hot and sticky, the air moist as his hand begins smoothing up and down my thigh, and i take that as the sign to let go, my legs shaking as i finally reach my release.
Luke continues to lap at my clit, while his fingers work me through my orgasm until i can’t take anymore. breath heavy and body trembling, i push his head away, his face finally emerging with wet, swollen lips and a soft smirk.
“did so good for me.” he praises, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before he hovers back over me, pressing his lips against mine.
his tongue tangles with mine, tasting salty yet a little sweet, and i moan against his lips, my hands trail down his abs to hook into the waistband of his jeans.
“you gotta wait a second, angel,” he mumbles against my lips, “don’t wanna overwork you.”
i groan, turning my head, and his lips press against my neck.
“fuck that,” i tell him, fingers fumbling with the button of his pants, “i want you now.”
“if you’re sure?” i nod quickly at his words, making him sit back.
he hastily unbuckles his belt, not bothering to take it off before he’s unzipping his jeans, kicking them off and onto the floor before he rids himself of his boxers.
his cock springs free, his tip a harsh red and precum beads at the slit, glistening in the low light of the bedroom.
leaning over to his nightstand, he digs around in the drawer for a moment before his hand emerges with a shiny foil packet. he tears the packet open, pulling the condom out and carefully sliding it onto himself, and i watch with desperate eyes as he gives himself a few tugs before turning back to me.
he hovers above me, bent on one forearm as his other hand grasps his shaft. he spreads my wetness around with his tip, sliding through my folds easily, and when he taps against my clit, my whole body aches with need.
“please.” i beg, and that’s all it takes for him to line up with my entrance, his lips connecting with mine as he slowly pushes in.
i whimper against his lips, his cock stretching me with a stinging sensation with every inch that he pushes in, and he stills, opening his eyes to peer down at me.
“are you okay?” he asks softly, petting hair out of my face gently as he speaks.
“mhm,” i nod, hands grasping at his back, “keep going.”
he does as i say, this time giving shallow thrusts in order to work himself in slowly, only taking what my body allows him until he can finally sink into me entirely. by the time he’s completely in, the stinging pain has subsided, making way for blissful pleasure, but he still stops to check again.
after my reassurance, he picks up again, thrusting properly, but still slowly. his lips press back against mine, kissing me with raw passion and love.
“faster.” i whisper against his lips.
his hips speed up into fast, deep strokes, a hand snaking down to grip my waist. my moans carry through the room, conjoining with the sounds of sex and his hips slapping against mine as my leg hooks around his waist.
gripping his back, my nails scratch into his skin, earning a groaned whine from my boyfriend as his face buries into my neck, his thrusts gaining a harshness that they hadn’t held before.
“say you love me.” he gruffs against my skin, so low that i almost didn’t hear him.
“i love you,” i breathe out, “i love you, i love you, i love you.”
his lips connect with my collarbone, each kiss broken up by a single confession of love muttered from his tongue.
i can feel the knots forming in my stomach again, like a ball of yarn tangling and tangling, further tying together with each thrust of his hips. the tip of his cock smacks against my g-spot, my back arching from the mattress as i make a particularly loud cry.
“right there!” i tell him in a broken sob.
he smirks against my skin, angling his hips just right before thrusting back in to hit the spot again. now with each stroke, my orgasm builds even quicker, my nails scratching down his back.
my walls clench around him, making him grunt into my neck, and he picks his head up to kiss my lips, his thrusts becoming quicker and slowly losing rhythm.
“i’m close,” he mumbles, “so close.”
i nod in agreement, “me too.”
his hand slides between us, his thumb finding its way to my swollen clit, and he begins rubbing harsh circles into it, making my hips jolt, my breath catching i’m my throat.
“cum for me, angel,” he whispers, “let go.”
i nod, for what i’m not sure, but my body tenses up underneath him, walls tightening around his cock as he continues to thrust, and my eyes roll back, legs shaking as i come undone around him.
he fucks me through my orgasm, kissing me through my heavy breathing as his thrusts speed up, becoming sloppier and sloppier as he chases his high until he finally stills. his hips stutter as he grunts, releasing into the condom.
his body collapses on mine, the grounding weight bringing me back down to earth as we both pant in uneven breaths, our chests rising and falling rapidly.
we lay in silence for several minutes, enjoying the serenity of the quiet until he rolls off of me, slipping out from inside me.
“that was…” he trails off and i giggle, nodding my head.
“why did i wanna wait again?” he laughs at my response, shaking his head.
“i’m glad we did,” his fingers trail over my stomach, drawing shapes in my skin. “it was worth the wait, and i think knowing we love each other just made it more special.”
i hum in agreement, wrapping my hand around his before lifting it to my lips, pressing a gentle kiss to his knuckles.
he presses a kiss to my cheek before getting up to dispose of the condom. pulling on a pair of sweatpants, he assures me that he’ll be right back before leaving the room, reappearing a few minutes later with a granola bar and a water, along with a damp washcloth.
“head up,” he coos holding the water to my lips, and i let him help me take a few sips before he hands me the granola bar.
he cleans me up, my body shaking as he runs the cloth through my sensitive core, as i eat the snack, resting the wrapper on his nightstand.
he rifles through his dresser, coming back to the bed with a pair of of boxers and a t-shirt, and he helps me into them before climbing into the bed beside me. he pulls me back into him, his nose burying into the side of my neck as he kisses the back of it.
“i love you.” he tells me, arm winding around my stomach as he spoons me, my back to his chest.
my eyes feel as heavy as lead, but my heart races at his words, my entire world shifting into a golden state.
“i love you too.” i repeat, immediately followed by a heavy yawn.
“go to sleep, angel,” he hums and i can feel his eyelids flutter closed against my skin, “i’m right here.”
and with his reassurance and the feeling of his body pressed to mine, i allow by body to shut down, my breathing evening out as i fall asleep.
#faithlynn’s 12 days of kinkmas#luke hughes#luke hughes x reader#luke hughes imagine#luke hughes fic#luke hughes smut#luke hughes blurb#nhl smut#nhl fic#nhl imagine#faithlynn’s writings <3
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he set my house on fire, you lit my heart ablaze; when the smoke cleared, you stayed, coughing up ash with me.
jh86 x reader: the revenge plot doesn't go as planned (ft. ex-fiance am34).
(warnings: blasphemous filth (it's on the tamer side, i think), unprotected penetrative sex (m on f), spit and descriptions of bodies and stuff like that, hair pulling (big fan), lots of talk about toxic relationships and being mean and using people and sad moments (we can thank this fictional am34 for that), oh, and slight bullying of tz11). idk just please be warned, don’t read if you’re not 100% sure.)
(a/n: hello, favorites. thank you so, so much for your patience and softness. today i bring you a story that took me so, so long because i worked so, so hard on it (and it's really long! 14k worth). we have checked all the boxes: terrible ex-fiance am34, sweet boy jh86, schemes and plots and the like. no, i don't think any of these characters are like this in real life. no, nobody acts like this, but it's getting colder, so i think a lot of us are craving that gentle domesticity. and yes, i wish someone had shown up with flowers after i finished undergrad midterms. there's probably a ton of plot holes but shh! don't tell anyone. also tried out a new format, the smut is in the middle instead of the end, let me know how you feel about that. anyways, i miss you and i love you and i think of you often and fondly. i hope you and your snakes are doing well and knowing what you deserve and accepting nothing less. let me know what you think, what you want next, etc. go canucks, of course. oh, and no, i do not think it's a coincidence that all the guys i write about are having a great season so far (except the ducks that refuse to play). how could it be? definitely a causal connection. all my love to you. until next time).
since you were a young girl, you had known that your greatest motivation, your deepest truth, perhaps your fatal flaw, was just how deeply you felt.
when you were little, that meant tears came easily, anger festered like weeds in a prized garden, and happiness felt like flying.
it also meant you could read others' emotions almost as clearly as your own.
it made you different, it made you a good friend, it made you the person you were. for much of your life, you had made peace with the fact that your well of emotions went deeper than others. you had loved that part of yourself, even.
but the night you broke off your engagement to auston matthews, you wanted nothing more than for everything you were feeling to disappear, to evaporate into the air as if it had never been.
"you couldn't've at least tried to hide it from me?" you had said, willing your fragile voice not to break.
and he had sat at the kitchen counter, that massive body on the stool that you had carefully selected for the house that you shared, that you thought you would share forever. and he had sighed, sounded almost annoyed. "would that have made it better, angel?"
his indifference coated your bones like lead paint. that name, once one you felt would call you out of a coma, would lead you out of hell like a northern star, now felt like nothing but a condescending, patronizing taunt. silly, stupid angel, the god might as well have said, how could you think you could ever be enough?
understanding settled like ash on your eyelashes. "you think i'll forgive you," you said, little more than a whisper. "you think i won't leave."
he scoffed at that, then. at you. "and go where?" he asked, sounding almost genuine. "where do you have to go?"
how superficially he knew you, it seemed, at that moment. how had you not seen this before?
"you honestly think i could ever look at you the same?" you asked.
he shrugged, his shoulders so imposing, stature so suddenly frightening. a body you knew better than your own, suddenly foreign. a ghost. "maybe differently, but still looking," he said, "your eyes have only ever followed me, angel."
and maybe he was right, but you were done proving him so.
"send my things to my parents' place," you said, cold, devoid of anything. emotion welled up in you like a flood, but you froze it before it could crest through your mouth, come out like some mythical fire-breathing dragon. you slipped off your ring, placed it on the counter.
you didn't feel lighter without it, though. you felt so devastatingly heavy, like cinder blocks were tied to your ankles, like liquid stone filled your head.
"are you kidding?" he asked. to your silence, careful pause, he tilted his head, shook it once. "you're just gonna quit?"
your hands were shaking. you could feel rage rattle through your body, shake your bones. you clenched your fist so tightly you wondered if blood would drip from your palms, stain the light hardwood floor that you had spent so long deciding on. "how dare you," you said, begging your quivering lip to still.
his smirk was cruel. "not like it matters," he mused. "you've never been able to quit me."
you had seen him mean. on the ice, sometimes to journalists, sometimes to fans, sometimes to you, even. but this was past mean. this was past elementary bullying, past joking insults that don't land. he was trying to call your bluff, trying to push you into forgiveness, trying to hurt you.
"watch me," you said, your voice made of ancient rock.
"are you mad because she's hotter than you?" he asked, his brow contorted in false concern. "is that it?"
despite yourself, a small smile pulled at your mouth. a smile that made your eyes glitter. a smile that should have scared him. a warning.
"she is beautiful," you conceded, because she was. what good would it do you to deny that? you approached him, then, in his personal space for what you believed would be the last time. he turned to you, your eyes meeting in a clash, like sword on sword. cruel, brutal arrogance and pure, pretty wrath. you held the side of his face in one palm, the other hand resting on his shoulder. "but when a beautiful person hits on me, auston, i say no."
his eyes flickered down to your mouth, simmering with lust. you laughed at this, at him, raw and true, let pity soak your tone like acid. "i'm not mad at her, auston," you admitted truthfully. "i'm not even mad at you." you patted his cheek, perhaps a little harder than you needed to. "i'm just so disappointed."
that had been weeks ago. you had moved back to the states, so embarrassed on the plane at how you couldn't stop the tears from flowing, until finally you were back with your parents in new jersey. they had welcomed you so warmly, so easily. it had taken a few weeks for the tears to finally slow, for the utter devastation to fade, for your red eyes to brighten again.
at first, it had been hard to remember anything but how his embrace felt like home, how tightly he hugged you after games, how his eyes shone when he laughed, how he had teared up when you had accepted his proposal, how he had gushed about picking the right ring.
but as the sadness faded, as it festered into something much more serious, you remembered less of the fairytale moments, less of his perfect smile, less of the "pretty girl" utterances in his rough bedroom rasp. soon the sadness gave way to steely rage, to an almost bloodthirsty need for revenge. for him to hurt the way he had hurt you.
and no one does bloodthirsty like a group of university-age girls. after catching up with your childhood friends, and getting them caught up on your situation, you looked at your confidants with eager eyes. "what do i do?"
your best friend from high school spoke first, banging her fist on the table. "burn his house down?" she offered. "steal his dog?"
her friend from college put a gentle hand over her fist, "i think for now we try to avoid the federal crimes," she said, then turned to you. "when my ex cheated on me, i got with the lead singer of his favorite band." her eyes shimmered. "and then bought his dream car and wrapped it pink."
you giggled in delight. "oh, you're good."
your childhood friend nodded. "phycological warfare." she looked at you. "who's his idol?"
you thought for a moment, tapped your fingers on the table. "i don't know if idol is what i should be going for," you thought out loud.
"who's someone who would make him uncomfortable? insecure?"
"his dad!" your friend said, making you shake in a laugh.
"his biggest insecurity is the spotlight leaving and not coming back," you told them. you had known that for a long time.
"being forgotten?" your friend asked.
"being replaced," you said, your eyes widening with understanding. "with someone better. more promising." you shared a look with your friends, felt anger solidify into a plan. into hope.
"you look like you have someone in mind."
a memory flashed across your mind like a shooting star, engulfed in flame.
"how was the game, aus?" you had asked when he got home, stirring the pot of soup on the stove.
you heard some kind of grumble as he dropped his things in the mudroom, made his way into the kitchen.
"what's wrong?" you asked when you met his eyes, sensing something wrong like smoke in the air.
"just this young kid," he muttered. "'s nothing, really."
and you knew then that it wasn't just nothing, because he never tried to hide things from you, to diminish his feelings, unless it was really bothering him.
you turned the stove off, approached him, wrapped your arms around his middle and hugged him tight. "who's this new kid?" you asked, muffled by his chest.
his arms pulled your closer, tighter. this had always been where you felt warmest, safest. "some h name," he muttered. "hicks? hughes, maybe?"
you smiled into his chest, knowing him, and knowing he would never have forgotten the name of this kid. knowing auston matthews never forgets people who make him feel like anything other than the world's brightest star.
"whoever he is, probably just had the game of his life," you had said, your voice a comforting lullaby. you had pressed yourself up on your tiptoes and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "nothing to worry about, yeah?"
he had smiled back at you, but something dark had swirled behind his gaze. something like knowing, like ominous understanding, like an empire, falling. "already forgotten, angel," he had said, but you knew, even then, that he was lying.
the memory fizzed and dissolved like baking soda in vinegar.
you looked at your friends and smiled. "what do you guys know about jack hughes?"
from there it was surprisingly easy to shift from a tangent line outside jack hughes's circle to someone inside of it. you were patient, too, careful not to rush. you wouldn't settle for anything less than perfect, after all, refused to enact any plan that wouldn't end in exactly the revenge you sought.
one of the other wags from toronto, whom you had grown close to, insisted on helping, giving you the numbers of some friends close to the devils.
"i'm honestly so, so proud of you for leaving," she had told you over the phone, her voice nothing but genuine, knowing. "all of us, we all knew you were way too good for him."
"did you?" you asked, maybe a little shocked. having been so completely deceived, so absolutely blind, for so long, it was interesting that others had not been as deluded as you. to hear their perspective, to see what you had not been able to before.
"sweetheart," she said, gently, "everyone who meets you can see that you're good. that you deserve someone good." there was a pause. "and everyone also sees that he was never that."
you let her words settle like glitter on a childhood craft. "thank you," you said. "i miss you."
"we miss you so much. see you soon?"
you agreed, thanked her for her help.
"i hope he's good," were her closing words. "maybe better, at least."
having started classes with your old friends, intent on finishing the degree you had so quickly and thoughtless abandoned for auston, you had ample time to plot.
"feels like we're in a spy movie, or something," your friend had said excitedly.
"we'll be your guys in the chair," the other chimed in. "here the whole way."
the rest of the initial plan came easily, with the help of the people who were on your side, which you quickly learned was a group made up of more people than you thought.
very soon, it was time for step one, and you were in front of your mirror, having just finished getting ready, your friends by your side.
you took a deep breath. "what if this isn't a good idea?" you whispered.
they squeezed at your hands. "no going back now, okay? we'll be there the whole time."
"what if he's not interested?"
"look at yourself," one of them said, "don't be stupid."
"what is he thinks i'm a crazy stalker?"
your oldest friend shrugged, her eyes full of mischief. "what if you are?"
so you found yourself at a dingy, run down bar, the lights low. according to your contacts, this was where the team and their friends came after home games.
when was the last time you had come to a bar looking for something? for someone? it felt distantly familiar, but so strange, like hearing a language you spoke as a child but that hadn't graced your tongue in decades.
you had been with auston for years, after all, having met him when you were 19, him 23. a whirlwind, a tornado, a perfect tempest of pink dust and white teeth. a proposal two years later, a break off a year further.
you were 22 now, and had never felt further from your nineteen-year-old self. a foolish child, a delicate doll, a phantom cloaked in a desperate desire for acceptance, for love.
you didn't know how to flirt in this new body, new being. you didn't even really know to how flirt with anyone but auston - it had been so long since you wanted anyone else. and you didn't even really want jack, at this point. you just wanted justice.
a cluster of motion and noise behind you ripped you from your thoughts. you didn't turn, though, just stirred your drink, let the liquid settle again until you could see yourself in the reflection. until you could make out your eyes, until you could plead with your mouth to tell you what to say.
a game, the beautiful girl mouthed to you, a secret code, it's only a game.
your hazy eyes caught on a pool table in the corner of the bar, vacant, the lamp above it flickering. you smiled to yourself, made your way over, picked out a cue, ran your fingers along the edge of it.
you took a sip of your drink before setting it down, lining yourself up to break. with a swift, even motion, a pleasant cracking noise rung out, colorful balls moving in different directions.
you scrunched up your nose, having sunk none initially, gracefully lining up to go again when you felt a few figures approach.
the first one who spoke, the one right next to you, was not someone you recognized. you didn't even think he was on the team, but he had the build of a hockey player, probably a quick center.
"need a private lesson, there, sugar?" he asked sleazily, his voice the arrogant drawl of a child, almost endearing in its steadiness. he leaned on the table as you looked up at him, straightened, tilted your head to rest against the cue.
"awful kind of you, coach of the year," you teased before nodding to the other person who had joined you, looming across the table like a shadow. "gonna help me beat your friend?"
your new coach scoffed, ran a hand through his long, unruly hair. "trust me, sugar," he said, "you don't need any help beating him."
you locked eyes with the figure across the table, whom you had only seen before on a screen, the one you had heard about in the arms of your ex-fiance. here he was, the soft contours of his face shimmering in the dim light. the mythical and heroic jack hughes, the shaker of the unshakeable auston matthews.
he was shorter than you expected. "not much of a competitor, is he?" you asked the man next to you, talking about jack as if he wasn't right there. as if you hadn't been looking at him the entire time. "doesn't like to play?"
you tilted your head, dared him with your eyes to prove you wrong. the familiar fire of flirtation, of the chase you hadn't engaged with in years flared when he took a step out of the shadows, letting you see him clearly and up close.
during your research, you had seen pictures of him, but they didn't do him even a semblance of justice. he was gorgeous in a fairytale prince sort of way, like he might save the day with a true love's kiss at any moment. his eyes were a striking blue, his nose almost dainty, his jaw angular. your gaze caught on his full mouth before finally landing on his eyes again. he had the kind of complexion and expression you could tell lit up when he smiled. your stomach twisted at the thought. a game, you repeated in your mind. only a game.
"i'll play," he said simply, his voice goofy in a way you weren't used to. not sleazy, like his friend, who was currently behind you while you bent forward, lining up the cue. it wasn't the classic baritone you were used to hearing in auston, but something more cautious, something sweeter.
the game progressed, each of you sinking shots with the tell-tale soft thud. it was his long-haired friend, the one who kept calling you sugar like you were some southern belle, who was much closer to you, who was adjusting your hips and arm placement before each turn, who was flirting with you so openly, his breath hot on your neck, his gaze open and obvious.
even then, a quick exchange of glances with jack felt much more intimate than any innuendo-filled comment and fumbling touch from his friend. whenever jack would sink a ball, his eyes would flutter up to meet yours in a fleeting catch of flame, of promise, of knowing.
with only a few balls still on the green felt of the table, his careful voice broke you from your trance. "what are we playing for?" he asked, eyes alight.
the look you shared was teasing, probing, yet deadly serious. this is everything, the look said. are you ready to give everything?
"how about this?" you began, your tone light and smoky. "if you win, you get my number." his full mouth quirked upwards in the slightest of smirks. "and if i win, i give it to him," you finished, nodding towards his sugar-spewing friend.
jack looked at his friend. "good with you, z?" he asked.
his friend, z, you guessed, let a cocky smirk drape across his face like velvet curtains. "more than good," he said, "as we're gonna win."
with the stakes agreed upon, the game continued until only the eight ball remained. you lined yourself up, your ever-so-involved coach just next to you as you called your pocket.
"have a game, sugar, here we go."
you ignored his friend's voice, lining your cue up perfectly, the smooth wood resting delicately between your fingers, the angle of your arm and neck smooth and sensual. everything about your preparation lent itself to a winning strike, everyone at the table knew it. you could feel it in z's early celebration, see it in the slight quiver of jack's hand.
bent over the table, in the final seconds before your strike, you peered up at jack through dark lashes, all dim light and foggy promise. you gave him a sly smirk as you followed through, the black and white ball missing the pocket by an inch, hitting the side of the table with a soft sound.
jack narrowed his eyes at you with a curious sort of look before quickly calling his pocket and immediately sinking the ball.
his friend sucked on his teeth before throwing up his hands in defeat. "christ, sugar, didn't take you for a choke artist," he said. "unless you're into that." he shot you a wink before heading off to grab a drink.
for the first time, it was just you and jack. you leaned on your cue, let your gaze fall over him lazily, in the same way you knew he was doing to you. he was close now, close enough that you could see how blue his eyes were, how long his lashes, how high and soft his features, how his hair was just a little too long on the sides.
"you let me win," he said, a gentle observation, not anything accusatory.
you smiled. "prove it," you said, to which a matching smile graced his own face.
"must be my lucky night, then," he said as he handed you his phone and you typed your number in.
you laughed. "i don't know," you mused, "you seem like a guy who's used to getting what he wants." and he did seem like that - who could say no to those pretty eyes?
he ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek, a motion you tracked. "'m a guy used to earning what he wants," he corrected, and you hummed. a distinction that auston had never made, even though he worked hard, sure. but he was a natural. what would it be like to be with someone to whom everything didn't come just so, so, easily?
"like to work for it, hm?" you teased.
his gaze dropped to your mouth for a second before returning to your eyes.
you stepped forward, pushed and poked at the imaginary line between the two of you. you looked up at him, gently swiped at his cheekbone with your thumb, felt heat rumble between the two of you, something volcanic. "don't work yourself too hard, yeah?"
without a second glance, you placed your cue against the table, grabbed your bag and made for the door.
on your way out, you overhead the conversation that had erupted in your exit.
"i was the one talking to her the whole time," that long-island-ish drawl said.
"if you think she was into you for even a second, you're an idiot," jack replied.
you swore the door was chuckling as it shut behind you.
everything had gone exactly as you'd hoped, exactly as you'd known it would, so you weren't at all surprised to receive a text the next day asking if you were around that night to get a drink.
so you found yourself at a different bar, this one a bit more upscale, quickly spotting jack as he waited for you outside. you blew out a breath as you approached, as a smile made his face glow. it was still so new to find someone else beautiful. when would you get used to his imperfect teeth, his oceanic eyes, his feminine nose, this greek sculpture opposed to autson's roman one?
you blinked. "hi," you said, suddenly feeling lame.
his mouth quirked. "hey." he opened the door for you, nodded. "after you."
"i'm gonna warn you," you started as you ducked past him and into the building. "i haven't been on a date in a while."
he shoved his hands in his pockets, a juvenile habit that made you blush. "find that hard to believe," he said, his tone playful. "pretty girl like yourself."
you scrunched up your nose at that. pretty girl. auston had called you that so many times, but for the first time you actually thought about its meaning. something flipped in your stomach at jack calling you pretty, but it was the girl part that had you pausing for a moment.
you were a girl, pretty much, you were jack's age, but you hadn't felt like one in so long. maybe it was being with someone a little older, but you felt almost ancient, so tired, so drained. but here you were, on a date, every bit the pretty girl he had deemed you.
you just laughed, taking a seat at the counter, smoothing out your dress against your legs. "real sweet talker, are you?" you joked, turning to him and meeting his eyes.
his mouth quirked like he knew something you didn't. "somethin' like that," he said.
the night went by fast, conversation flowing easily, no sign of pressure or anything of the like. you asked about his career, what he did that day, his family, his friends. he made you laugh, and it came so easily, so fluidly. he asked you about what you liked to do, what you were studying in school, how you were enjoying jersey.
surprisingly, you found yourself wanting to be completely honest with him, even though you couldn't be. you found yourself wanting to tell him everything, to answer any question he asked, to never leave him wishing or wanting even for a second.
you got hung up on the curve of his upper lip, on the slope of his shoulders under his button down, on his girlish laugh, his firefly of a smile.
the night was over too soon. too soon, you had the sinking feeling that you were in over your head, that perhaps you had chosen the wrong person for your revenge plot. you wanted to hurt auston, after all, but not yourself. certainly not this shimmery spark of a boy in front of you.
he walked you out, both of you pausing outside the bar, under the dull streetlight, a theatre spotlight for your praiseworthy performance.
you turned to look at him, and him at you, sinking into each others' gazes like quicksand, the air thick with expectation.
"i don't kiss on the first date," you blurted out, talking to his lips, talking to yourself.
he smiled, his shoulders rumbling in a laugh. "'s okay," he breathed, "like to work for it, remember, baby?"
you shook your head as your cheeks erupted in a delighted rosy flush. "goodnight, jack," you said, your voice every bit the giveaway. he returned the sentiment with a knowing grin.
the next day, you invited your girls over to watch him play. as you all settled on the couch, a homemade cocktail in your hand, you couldn't help but hide your face when the camera lingered on his profile during the anthem.
one of your friends gave a mock-salute. "god bless america," she said, shaking her head as you threw a pillow at her.
"alright," you chastised.
"what?" she asked, raising a brow, "just appreciating the wonderful offerings of our country."
your other friend shook her head. "you don't usually go for guys like him, eh?" she asked. "i mean, ever since we were in middle school you always went for the guys with biceps bigger than my face." she held her hands in front of her face for visualization.
"'s not like he's tiny," you said, almost embarrassed.
"no, no," she amended, "but he's no auston. he's just, i don't know, pretty."
you smiled, knowing exactly what she meant. auston was so masculine in every way, and jack was softer, somehow, pretty in a way you didn't usually go for.
pretty in a way that made you smile at your phone when he texted you the next day, asking if he could cook you dinner later that week.
you were blushing to yourself, the morning of, after he had texted you asking if you had any dietary restrictions.
and you didn't, but wasn't it just the sweetest, most thoughtful thing to ask? would you have even thought to ask?
i want you to be comfortable, his text said, i want you to laugh with your mouth full in my kitchen.
careful, angel, a deep voice called from the back of your mind, from the inside of your teeth. this is about me, remember?
your fingers twitched with the reminder as you stood on his front stoop, waiting for jack to answer the bell. the air had a brisk twinge of a chill to it, a chill that had your nose turning pink and your feet stiffening in your boots.
but he answered the door, and the breath you blew out rose between the two of you like a misty curtain, one you resented, because it distorted your view of him, even just so.
the mist settled, and his smile was left in its wake.
a smile that silenced all the gossiping voices in your head, left the throne of their malevolent king vacant, abandoned.
"you're here," he breathed, almost like he couldn't believe it, like he couldn't believe you.
"and it's your fault," you teased, scrunching up your nose.
he shook his head, laughed at some joke in his mind, stepped aside. "you must be freezing, baby, come in."
the butterflies in your chest soared as he helped you shoulder off your coat, his fingers leaving just a ghost of a touch on your wrist, the back of your neck, leaving scorched skin behind. you shivered, took in his graceful figure hanging your coat up on a hook by the door, let a smile come easily to your face when he turned back to you.
"what?" he said, grinning.
you let out a half-laugh. "nothing," you said, looking around as you kicked your shoes off. anything to avoid the white-hot light of his undivided attention. "i like your place."
and you did like it, truly, it was just so unexpected. homely, not cluttered, but definitely not the modern, futuristic, almost barren aesthetic you can come to associate with successful hockey players.
he flashed you a shy smile as he led you into the kitchen, bowing his head, making his hair fall into his face, almost bashful. "it likes you too," he told you, swinging his hand up to hit the top of the doorframe like a basketball-obsessed middle-schooler. you bit your lip to stop your grin.
what a pleasure it was to get to know all the most intricate and intimate manners of someone new.
"everything's almost done, now," he said, quickly turning off the stovetop and peering through the glass of the oven.
his tone was much more at ease then when you had talked to him before. he was at home here, and you could tell. he wore home like a hand-me-down sweater, too big in the shoulders and worn in the elbows, but lovely and familiar in all of its comfort.
you sat atop a stool at his counter, nervously rubbing the sole of one foot into the top of the other. "thanks for cooking, jack," you said, "you really didn't have to do anything fancy, or anything." suddenly, sitting here in this space, surrounded by the evidence of his effort, you felt guilt settle deeply into your body. unworthiness, perhaps, of the smell of food in the air, of the drink he had poured for you so gently, of the smile he kept throwing your way.
that voice in your head huffed. look at all this, he said, look at the burden you are.
and you were feeling it, so heavily, until jack took a sip of his own drink and waved you off, furrowing his brow as if confused. "'s how a date works, right, baby?" he said. he tilted his head, teasing, "tellin' me no one's ever pulled out all the stops for you?"
and you laughed, shook your head, because you supposed it was, supposed no one really had.
you got to know each other even better over the meal he had cooked, surprising you once again with how easy everything felt between you.
"tell me what you did today," he might say, his voice soft, muffled from chewing.
and you might tell him about your classes, how midterms were coming up, how you were nervous but felt pretty good about most of them.
maybe then you would ask about practice that morning, to which he would tell you some story about his teammates, how they were giving it to him all morning.
"why?" you might ask, to which he would look up at you with that bashful flush.
"'cause they knew you were coming over tonight," he admitted, pushing broccoli around his plate. "kept saying how i was probably gonna make you a box of kraft or something."
you laughed, a genuine rumble from deep in your chest, tilting your head back. when you looked back at him, he was looking at you with something like wonder.
and maybe later, you would ask what his favorite part of his house was, and he would say it was his wall of framed pictures, which would make you melt a little bit, your heart a puddle of feeling.
too soon, you were setting down your fork and knife, crossing and uncrossing your legs in restlessness.
"did you like it?" he would ask, his voice so full of hope it could have killed you.
so full of hope that you reached across the counter to hold his hand in yours, if only for a moment, to squeeze his fingers in meaningful emphasis.
your touch caught him by surprise, hesitant for a moment before locking eyes with you, simmering, then squeezing your hand back in his warm, callused grip.
a grip that said i'm no natural, but i'll work for it. for you.
"it was perfect," you said honestly, because it was. "but please, please let me do the dishes," you pleaded, looking at him through your lashes, just wanting to do something to help.
it would feel so wrong to be doted on for the whole night while giving nothing in return. at the very least, it would feel foreign.
he shook his head playfully, but relented. "you can help," he conceded, "but 'm not letting a pretty girl clean up my mess by herself."
you scoffed with a smile, squeezed his hand a final time before pushing yourself off of your stool, gathering all the plates and glasses in a single go.
"where'd you learn how to do that?" he asked, genuinely, as he followed you to the sink.
you carefully set everything down in a graceful swoop, let your lips quirk upwards in nostalgia. "once a waitress, always a waitress," you explained, referring to your short-lived stint at a busy restaurant in toronto before auston insisted on you staying home.
and at the time, even a little now, it was a sweet gesture, one you had taken as him wanting you to relax, wanting you to have the freedom to do whatever you wanted with your days.
you just secretly wished he had considered that what you wanted to do with your days was working, going to school, doing something for yourself.
jack leaned on the edge of the counter, his lopsided grin like an electric jolt to your heart. "what, did they show you the door 'cause you were making all the tips?" he teased, nevertheless making you blush as you washed the plates with soap. "not fair for everyone else, 's that it?"
you gasped in dramatic accusation, flicking sudsy water from your fingers his direction. "how dare you?" you exclaimed before turning away from him in a huff, feigning sadness. "'s not like i can control this face."
his mouth widened in shock, then took on a scheme-filled smile as soon as the water hit him, a short laugh escaping him. "you didn't," he said, dipping his hand in the soap and flinging some at you.
you squealed, holding your hands up to shield your face as he reached in for more, bubbles filling both of his palms. "wait, jack, i'm sorry!" you laughed. "i swear, i didn't mean to!"
"liar," he cooed, his gaze sparking like a lighter, you swore you could hear the clicking sound. then he was right in front of you, only a breath apart, so close you swore you could feel the beat on his heart in your own chest.
he reached down and gently held your face in his hands, the soap now all along your jaw and cheeks.
you closed your eyes for a second, sighed in defeat, still so aware of him so close, of his touch, feather-light on you skin.
when they opened again, you both had not moved, frozen in place, perhaps willed by the moment, compelled by the growing sensation of rightness, of being exactly where you were supposed to be. when he spoke, he was speaking to your lips, dragging his gaze back up to your eyes like it weighed something stark.
"do you kiss on the second date?" he breathed, and your breath caught, your heart stuttering at his utter politeness, his thoughtfulness, the idea that he remembered things you had told him.
you bit your tongue, because, if you were being honest, you usually didn't - you took the rule of threes very personally. you liked to take your time, savored that lovely period of what could be. besides, you had learned the hard way what happened when you let people in your life too quickly, too hastily. you knew all too well that giving in to a toothy smile and a sleeve of tattoos only led to shrugs met with tears.
but here, now, with jack's soapy hands on your face, in the space he had so warmly accepted you into, you had the feeling this boy in front of you was going to be an exception. that he would be an exception for many things, perhaps the exception.
as if hearing your internal dialogue loud and clear, he dipped his head down until he was impossibly close, so when he spoke you could feel the words on your lips.
"please let me kiss you, baby," he pleaded, his eyes hooded and heavy, his voice a rasp.
deciding he was an exception indeed, you answered him by pressing up on your toes, meeting his mouth with yours in a kiss that bruised.
and later, you would think about how auston had never been a please let me kiss you man, instead he had been a give me a kiss, angel kind of guy.
after, you would think about how it felt so much more personal, so much more sweet to be asked please, can i instead of being ordered give me, give me, give me, like a demanding, red-faced child.
later, you would think about how the previous kisses in your life paled in comparison to the feeling of jack's lips on yours. how before this moment, you were used to kisses that felt like transactions, like the necessary box being checked before the next step, how they felt like being swallowed.
after, you would swoon over all the details and nuances, but, right now, there was nothing but his lips, his hands, the way he melted into you and practically whimpered when you kissed him harder.
kissing him didn't feel like being swallowed, it felt like taking the biggest deep breath of your life after slowly suffocating for years. you forgot you had soap bubbles all over your face, you forgot about auston, you forgot about everything - there was only him, and you, in this moment.
he held your face like you were something precious, moving one hand into your hair as you wrapped your arms around his neck. he tasted like lemon and rosemary, as well as something so deliciously him you could feel yourself become addicted immediately.
his grip in your hair was soft, and when his lips moved against yours it felt like melting snow in the warmth of the morning, pure and sweet and natural and right. kissing him felt like waking up with sunlight streaming through the windows, like laughing while taking your makeup off, like cinnamon and clove and home.
when you pulled away from him, only just slightly, both of you catching your breath heavily, he opened his eyes slowly, almost reluctantly. his eyes were almost glazed over, and you had a feeling yours looked in a similar way, syrupy and hot.
he gently swiped his thumb along your swollen bottom lip as if testing to make sure you were real, not just some shadow, not just a dream.
you traced your nails along his neck, smiled as he brought his hands down to wrap around your middle, resting them on the small of your back.
"god, you're just so fucking pretty, aren't you?" he breathed, like a revelation.
you swore he had your head spinning for days after, days you unfortunately and cruelly had to spend apart due to a week-long road trip for the team.
you told yourself it was a good thing that he was going away for a bit, as it would give you a second to regroup, to revaluate, to familiarize yourself with what your initial goal was for your plan. you reminded yourself over the week apart that jack was a means to an end, that whatever had blossomed between the two you had a finish line, that all of it was meant to make a point, then hopefully leave this whole hockey world behind after the damage had been done.
but then one of your girls would throw on the game, and jack's expressive face would fill the screen, chewing on the fingers of his gloves during warm ups, and your heart would sink at the thought of leaving him behind. and it just about combusted at the idea that you were using him, even though that's exactly what you were doing.
you've only been on two dates with him, only kissed once, you reminded yourself. he's probably seeing other people, anyways, probably with some other girl right now. it's not like you're exclusive. this is probably not a big deal to him.
the thought was comforting but also devastating, a brick in your stomach.
while he was away, midterms came and went. as you walked into your last one, you thought about maybe texting jack after, trying to get together tonight, since he would finally be back.
then your pen hit the paper and time passed in a blur.
you exited the lecture hall in a flurry of relief and pride, happy to have accomplished something so concrete, something that you had truly worked hard on.
walking down the stairs outside of the entrance, your smile stilled, frozen in shock, when you looked up from your feet and saw a familiar, beautiful figure leaning against his car, an excited grin on his face, flowers in his grip as he locked eyes with you, making your breath catch.
"is that jack hughes?" some kid from your class said altogether too loudly to his friend. you had seen that same kid wearing devils gear more than once.
his friend didn't look up from his phone. "who's jack hughes?" he replied.
you couldn't stop your disbelieving laugh, your smile, already making your cheeks sore as you finished descending the stairs, until you were in front of him, wrapping your arms around him, pulling him in for a hug before you even realized what you were doing.
this was so unlike you, really, letting yourself feel as deeply as you could without filtering it, but anything else would have felt so wrong it could have killed you. especially when he brought his arms around you without even a second's hesitation, held you tight and close, so you could feel the petals of the flowers on the back of your neck.
"you're here," you said, breathlessly, still shocked, into his firm chest.
"had to make it back for your last test," he said into your hair, both of you not wanting to let go.
"how did you know?" you murmured, pulling away from him, only slightly.
he loosened his embrace, pulled away to get a look at you, let his eyes run over you carefully, indulgently. he pushed your hair back from your face, his touch gentle, like you were a relic, something worth treasuring. "you said so, last week," he said simply, like it was obvious.
he said it as if, for years of your life, you had wished and yearned so reverently for auston to remember the little things, like your coffee order, like the dates on which your parents were coming to visit, like your anniversary.
he said it as if it didn't mean the entire world that he had listened, that he had remembered.
you only leaned into his chest, looked up at him with something seriously dangerous in your eyes, something that was not supposed to be there. "'d you bring me flowers, jack?" you asked, a playful note in your tone.
he flushed, so lovely, hid his face behind the bouquet, peeking only one deep blue eye out, as if embarrassed. "too much?" he asked, still shielding his face.
you laughed, squeezed his bicep lightheartedly. "just enough," you assured him, your eyes full of meaning, willing him to lower his shield, let you see the face you had been dreaming of all week. "thank you. i missed you."
you would have told him that a thousand times just to see the way his whole face lit up, like he could never hide how happy your words made him. he wore the late afternoon sunshine like a dream, the dewy rays dripping down his cheekbones, the slope of his nose, slow and golden as honey.
he had this way of making you feel like you were first choice, every time, and it was so foreign that you hadn't known you had been craving it until he had laid it at your feet like an offering. every time he texted you to check in, to ask how your day was, to finalize plans, it would send a flurry of butterflies swarming your chest, a rosy flush to the bridge of your nose.
he was so, so beautiful, inside and out, that you effectively forgot what the whole point of your plan was in the first place. you basically had forgotten about it, that day that he dragged you along with some of his friends to pick out a christmas tree.
"do i know any of these friends?" you had asked on the way up, riding shotgun, reaching over periodically to run your nails along his neck, just below his hairline, your way of saying i'm happy you're here. and he would reach over and rest his hand on your thigh, not possessive, just a reminder of your presence. a reminder that made your insides twist with want, nonetheless, that made your gaze simmer.
one of the things you appreciated so genuinely about jack was that he didn't rush you for even a second, so happy to go at whatever pace made you most comfortable, whatever pace would keep you around the longest. it felt almost wrong that his acceptance of a slow pace made you want to speed things up, made you want to know what he felt like in your hands, what sounds he might make if you teased him, what his voice would sound like in your bed.
he let out a rumble of a laugh at your question, shaking you from your daze. "you'll definitely recognize one of them," he said. "though i don't know if he's fully recovered from your last meeting."
"oh no." you paled. "not him." you winced, thinking about how you had probably bruised his inflated ego. not beyond repair, though, you knew. for guys like that, never beyond repair.
jack traced circles on your thigh with his thumb in affirmation. "don't worry, baby," he said, "told 'm to be on best behavior."
when you arrived, you recognized that boisterous voice immediately.
"so good to see you again, sugar," he drawled, his tone especially toying.
you decided to cut any hard feelings immediately, going up to him and giving him a quick hug in greeting. "i think i owe you a thank you, coach of the year," you said, pulling away with a smile.
luckily, he seemed to forgive quickly, even to appreciate your efforts. "i prefer my thank yous in hot chocolate form," he said, and you promised to fulfill his request later. he gave you his name in exchange for yours.
you spent the afternoon leisurely ambling around the grounds, looking at potential trees, but really just enjoying the company of those around you.
most of the time, you spent laughing, tucked into jack's side, finding warmth in the firm feeling of his hip against your waist.
"what about this one?" trevor asked, holding up an especially short and stout one.
the two of you decided jack would need a taller one to better suit the ceiling proportions in his living room.
walking around, it felt like you were in your own dreamy winter wonderland, in a fog of laughter and warmth and a million other beautiful things.
"you leave again tomorrow?" you asked at one point, unable to hide the slight disappointment in your voice. you peered up at him, your eyes warm, your cheeks rosy from the cold.
he met your gaze and nodded, hugged you tighter into his side. "back in a few days," he said.
you couldn't help but pout just a little. jack's roadtrips felt longer and more lonely than auston's ever had.
jack ran his thumb along your bottom lip. "what's that for, baby?" he asked.
you shrugged. "just gonna miss you, 's all," you told him honestly.
something sweet bubbled up in his gaze, but the moment was effectively interrupted by trevor's voice coming from behind you, now shockingly close.
"oh?" he said, dramatic, "what's this? is that - mistletoe?" he emphasized all of his words with dramatic pauses. you briefly thought that maybe, if he hadn't been all in on hockey, he would have made an excellent theater kid.
you both turned to find trevor standing right behind you, holding an alarmingly large branch of something that resembled mistletoe.
"where did you find that?" jack asked his friend.
"never mind that," trevor said, waving him off.
you elbowed jack lightly. "looking for an excuse not to kiss me, are you?"
he shook his head incredulously, as if you had said something funny. you were about to tease him again, but he didn't give you the chance, immediately taking your face in his hands and angling his head down slightly to meet you in a kiss that seared every bit of chill from the air.
would you ever get used to this? would his lips ever not feel like they belonged on yours? would your heartbeat ever not thrum, like some perfect harmony?
the warmth of his hands on your face, the security of yours against the plane of his chest, all of it, everything - it was so perfect you wanted to stay here, just like this, forever. and the thought didn't even scare you as want began to pool inside of you, hot and heavy.
a mixture of a cough and a laugh had the two of you pulling away from each other. one of jack's other friends who had tagged along let out a low whistle, making you blush deeper.
jack just slung a heavy arm around your shoulders and pulled you close, pressing his lips to the top of your head.
luckily, trevor's attention had already strayed, as he was now holding the branch over his own head and the head of the other friend. "don't fight it!" he was calling out as the friend broke out into a light gait.
"get away from me, you scumbag," the poor kid called out over his shoulder.
your eyes were stuck on jack's face, still hazy from your kiss. he turned to you, his mouth quirking up. "staring, baby?" he said, low enough for only you to hear.
you nodded, shameless. "want you," you told him plainly, barely recognizing the tone of your own voice.
the fire in his own eyes welled up as you placed your hands flat on his chest. "fuck, now, baby?" he asked, looking around to where his friends chased each other around.
you bit your lip, pleaded him with your eyes. "please, jack," you said, "please take me home."
he took your hand in his immediately, tossed some parting words over his shoulder to his friends, who paused, watched the two of you stumble into jack's car with urgency.
as he started the engine and pulled away, you heard a faint the hell are we supposed to do with this tree?
the car ride back felt longer than it really was, both of you practically buzzing with want. you kept a hand in his hair, his palm planted firmly on the inside of your thigh, close but not close enough.
you let out a sigh of relief when he pulled into the driveway, let him pull you into the house, push you up against the closed door, kiss you again with heat and force and somehow, such softness.
it was the softness that filled you with want. his desire was obvious, especially when he pressed his hips up, hard against you, but that didn't mean he wasn't just so gentle with you, so in tune to what you wanted.
you fisted your hands in his hair, pulled until his posture faltered, until his lips parted further and he moaned into your mouth.
you hooked a leg around his hip to bring him closer, relished the way he began to rock against you.
"fuck, baby," he breathed out, strained, stuttering in places, "don't wanna fuck you against the door."
later, you would think about how auston had never had such a problem. he had never cared where you were, how uncomfortable a position had made you. sometimes you had thought he found his own bed boring.
but jack just pulled you into his room, lightly rocked you back onto the bed, pressed soft kisses down your jaw, your neck, your stomach. you both pushed and pulled clothes aside, looking to give the other as much access as possible.
"so fuckin' pretty," he mumbled against your stomach, making you flush all over.
"please, jack," you whined as he slowly dragged his fingers through your folds, making you shiver.
"what do you need, baby?" he asked, pumping himself a few times, up and down, his voice low and rough.
you sat up for a moment, took hold of his hand, peered up at him through your lashes as you spit into it.
he groaned, ran his hand over his cock, now glistening with your spit. desire glowed in your eyes like fireflies. "tell me," he begged.
you laid back on the bed again, the smell of him everywhere. another time, you would insist on feeling him in your mouth, maybe on feeling his mouth on you, but you knew the both of you were far too desperate for that.
"just need you inside me, baby, please," you said, your eyes raking over his figure above you, all gentle slopes and hard lines together.
"ask me so good, baby, so good for me," he said, a careful rasp. he thumbed your clit, making you jolt, dragging his fingers through you again before bringing them to his mouth. "and so ready, hm?"
you nodded feverishly, your mouth falling open as he finally pushed into you, his groan deep.
you whined, the stretch so surreal as you reached forward to grasp at his forearm, anything to ground you.
staying still in the stretch for a second, you waited for the feeling to weaken, but it didn't, not really.
he dropped his head, his exhale coming out shallow, the muscles in his shoulders constrained.
you tightened your grip on his forearm, let your nails dig into him to pull him back to you.
"fuck, baby, i can't," he bit out, "can't, i swear."
you rolled your hips back and forth, trying to will some movement from him. "please, jack, please move," you begged. "please fuck me, baby."
never one to deny you, he began a slow pace, the friction and depth almost unbearable. one of his hands dug into your hip, so hard you could feel bruising, the other beginning to rub careful circles on your clit, making you cry out in pleasure.
"you're so deep," you choked, "faster, baby, need you faster."
he obliged, picking up the pace of his rhythm, moving his hand faster against your clit, making that wave well up within you, forcing moans from your throat.
"fuck, sound so pretty, baby," he said, a glistening sheen now painted across his brow, his collarbones. "so pretty, squeezing me so perfect."
the muscles of his stomach began to contract as you felt yourself dangerously close.
his rhythm continued, bruising in depth and force, so lovely in softness. you tugged his hand from your hip, placed his fingers on your tongue, desperate for something to do with your mouth. you sucked, pulling a guttural moan from him. "don't stand a chance when you do that, baby, swear," he said, "fuck, don't stand a chance with you, hm?"
you felt yourself smile around his hand, your eyes watering, glazed over.
"gonna make me cum, baby," he whined, his motions becoming jerky, his voice little more than a plea. "cum with me, baby, hm? make me feel so good, yeah?"
you fell over the edge at his words, felt his orgasm follow yours almost immediately, the air warm and sticky around you. he collapsed on top of you, his exhales like liquid on your skin, yours like dreamy sighs as he pulled you to him, held you close as you waited for the rise and fall of your chests to settle.
he drew his fingers lazily around the flesh of your thigh, your hip, you pushed his hair back from his face as you both fought sleep, wanting just a few more seconds in the conscious presence of the other.
everything was so lovely you could barely stand it.
you should have known it wouldn't last long.
a day into jack's time away, you received a text from one of your friends in toronto. it was a picture from auston's instagram with the message just thought you should know. we miss you.
something cracked in your chest at the photo of your ex-fiance and this new girl. it wasn't really jealousy, definitely not desire, no, it was harder to pinpoint.
maybe it was the fact that after four years of being together, and after a whole year of being engaged, auston had never once even thought about posting a picture of the two of you.
and you had always chalked it up to the fact that you didn't have any social media, but now, you realized there was something to be said about letting the world know that you were taken.
and you also knew, now, that that was a statement auston had been unable to make your entire relationship.
a voice in the back of your mind, tone watery with tears, wailed. what makes her so special? it pressed. what makes her so much better than me?
it didn't help that she looked absolutely nothing like you. you wondered passingly if you would have preferred a look-a-like to be staring back at you through your screen. you didn't really know, but you did know that her features were sharp to your soft, your eyes are hair completely different in coloring. her face had you questioning if he had ever really found you beautiful, or if you had been the exception to his regular type. the idea weighed heavily on your shoulders like a cape made of cement.
but you knew, at the end of the day, that it was not about her.
and so you decided that as much as your relationship with jack had become genuine, maybe it was time to bring back the plan, just a little.
it can be two things, you told yourself, jack doesn't need to get hurt.
so when jack arrived back from the road, your relationship now teetered on a tightrope, balancing between two things, two motives like a trapeze artist.
still, you tried your best not to let your desire to rip out the heart of your ex-fiance stand in between you and jack. you could be bloodthirsty and gentle at the same time, you told yourself. two things.
the idea became easier when jack began to ask you to come to his games.
at first, you had been skeptical. auston hadn't wanted you there until maybe a year and half into your relationship. you didn't want to push this, press your luck, make yourself a burden, in fear of him abandoning you.
"are you sure you want me there?" you had asked the first time, a little timid, your face resting on your clasped hands, sitting at his kitchen counter, keeping him company as he made something on the stove.
he had turned to you, head tilted, confused. "of course i do, baby," he had said, calmly and clearly. "i want you everywhere i am."
and that had been the end of that.
so you began to become a regular attendee at his games, getting to know the people of his life more closely, becoming a fixture in his life more solidly.
you let him post a picture of the two of you, so touched that he would even ask. he showed you the post when he was done.
you kissed his shoulder in response. "your eyes are closed, jack," you said, half-laughing at the fact that he had chosen this picture, so flawed in nature.
"hm?" he looked at the picture again, then shrugged. "hadn't noticed. no one's gonna be looking at me, anyways."
you shook your head, disbelieving. he was making it hard for this to be two things. he was making it really, really hard to care if your ex-fiance even saw this post. he was making it really hard to care about your ex-fiance at all.
"i don't believe you, sometimes," you mused aloud.
he twirled a lock of your hair, mesmerized. "how?"
you tilted your head back to allow him easier access. "you're pretty perfect, you know that?" you smiled up at him, blissful. "too perfect."
seeing his face go pink with your praise made you make a mental vow to tell him more often.
and he gave you every opportunity to be surprised by his perfection, over and over.
every kiss was something teenage you would have dreamed about, every time he led you into his bedroom was something current you dreamed about. how he seemed to enjoy every moment no matter what you were doing, even how clearly he communicated with you during your first fight, all of it astounded you.
he made all of your friends jealous, but so happy for you. he met them, one time, when he dropped you off to get coffee with them after class.
he was so respectful with them, asked them genuine questions, but never anything that told you that he wasn't in on you one hundred percent.
when auston met your best friend in toronto, he had dropped your hand that he had been holding.
"didn't tell me she was so pretty, angel," he had said, and you had hoped it was just to show you he was putting in an effort to impress the people that were important to you.
when jack said he had to be going, to get to morning skate, he just kissed your cheek. "use my card, yeah, baby?" he called out, waiting for your nod and smile before he drove away.
how had you stumbled into this? was it possible that it wasn't too good to be true?
jack had asked you to come to toronto when the devils headed up north to play the leafs, because he knew you had lived there, because he had lived there, too, and wanted to show you around. and it had reached a point where refusing him when he offered a piece of himself to you seemed cruelly impossible.
you told yourself that it was just another game, just another day. it helped that you honestly didn't feel any attachment to this rink, even to this city. you had watched jack play plenty, now, and you were determined to treat this game just the same as any other, if not rooting for jack with just a little more urgency, a little more emotion.
you loved how easy he was to cheer for. you loved how you could see how much he loved the game, how he smiled after every good play, how he saw things you could have never seen on the ice. you could practically hear his laugh in the rafters, see his imperfect teeth in the glass. he was everywhere, here, are you loved it.
of course, you noticed that your ex-fiance was here, but it honestly wasn't even that bad. if anything, it was confirmation that you were over him, that what you had with jack was real, that you weren't in for revenge anymore. you weren't in this for auston at all.
until he scored, and his goal song echoed through the arena. you knew that this year, the leafs had decided to try out individual goal songs after players scored, songs that they chose before the season started.
you did not know, however, that auston matthews' goal song was the song that, months ago, was set to be the soundtrack to your first dance.
the crowd was eating it up, of course they were, the juxtaposition of auston's dynamic scoring ability with the old-fashioned crooning of you're just too good to be true, can't take my eyes off of you.
the song seemed to reverberate off of the walls, into your head, behind your eyes, where it settled like thick fog. it smelled like champagne, waxy makeup, hairspray. your eyes began to water, which made your throat constrict.
like a dream, maybe a hazy memory, your first dance that never was flashed across your mind. an ornate, almost gauche white dress, the beautiful heels you had been practicing to wear. his pressed suit, slicked back hair, stupid designer socks that used to make you laugh. his hand on your waist, your arms around his neck, the two of you lost in each other, swaying, swirling around the floor to this song, surrounded by loved ones, high on laughter and the future and love.
slowly, the image blinked out of your vision as the song faded and the puck dropped, play starting up again.
it blinked out like a dying star, and then it was exactly that. dead.
because as you trained your eyes back on the ice, never once did they stray from 86 in red. never once did anything like regret or nostalgic desire well up in your heart, because you were not the one who lost. you were not the one with something to prove.
finally, you buried that wedding dress, laid it six feet under, let the soil spoil it, knowing one day you would wear a white dress and it would mean something to both parties involved.
in a breath, the game ended, and jack won, and he was truly all you were thinking about.
waiting for him, though, practically bouncing up and down, you were suddenly pulled into a side hallway by a grip you would recognize anywhere.
you were not surprised to look up and see the calculating eyes of auston matthews looking down at you with some lethal combination of heat and arrogance.
"angel," he said, a greeting that made you grind your teeth.
you pulled your arm away from him, shook him off of you, willed strength and stone into your posture and tone. "cool goal song, asshole," you bit out.
"i missed you too," he cooed, not taking you seriously, even now. his frame seemed so imposing now, looming large, too large for someone you didn't trust.
you rolled your eyes. "if you'll excuse me, i'm waiting for someone." you turned to leave the hallway, go back to the exit where jack would surely be walking out of any minute.
auston grabbed at your wrist, and it burned. "what, you mean that kid?" he scoffed, but didn't let go. "c'mon, angel, you know he's nothing to you." he rubbed a circle into your wrist that once, might have been soothing, but now made you feel sick. "you know you're all for me."
and you could have said so many things. like how that kid was your age, actually, so what did that say about him? like how that kid was twice the man he would ever be. like how this would be the last time you ever saw him, the last time he would ever have your attention.
the opening of a door ripped you from your thoughts as both you and auston glanced up to see jack in the doorframe, his bag slung over his shoulder, his face flushed from the game, tired blue eyes caught on auston's hand around your wrist.
time froze for a millisecond as you felt like you were pulled between worlds. it can be two things, you had told yourself once. it was never two things.
you watched as painful realization settled in jack's eyes as he simply turned away, let the door close behind him.
you ripped your arm from auston's grasp. "you've never taken me seriously," you told him then, looking him square in the face, your tone steady and serious as anything. "but if you believe anything i say, let it be that you are nothing to me, and you never will be again."
for the second time, you were the one to leave, this time running towards something worth saving.
you cursed under your breath, looking around for that head of soft brown hair.
you found him in a different hallway, sitting on the ground, his bag slumped next to him, his back leaning against the wall, his feet flat on the ground.
for a single moment, it was so quiet you swore that your exhales echoed against the walls. he didn't turn to face you, but obviously knew you were there.
"so you're with him, then?" he practically whispered, his tone like a cleaver to your chest, so defeated and blindsided, almost like he was talking to himself.
you slowly made your way over to him, sat down next to him, mirrored his position. side by side, but he felt so far away. "i'm not," you said back to him.
he let out some kind of bitter laugh, a sound you hated, a sound you hoped you would never have to hear again. "so that was you making friends?" he picked at a thread on his dress pants. "just meeting new people, 's that it?"
you turned to face him, then, but he still faced forward, as if looking at you would ruin him. "it's not what you think," you said, softly.
"well, what is it?" he paused, looked at you, then, and he wore his sadness like a suit fit for mourning. "be honest with me, please."
you took a shaky breath, knowing that this, very possibly, might be the last time you would ever be so close to him. knowing that your next words, your explanation, it might drive him away from you forever, before you had even really had the chance to have him.
you savored this breath, this liminal space between the truth and the now.
"i was going to marry him," you said, and the confession felt like letting go of every single vengeful thought you had ever had, like all the spite and disdain in your body had evaporated into dust.
"you were going to marry auston matthews," jack murmured, his face blank, his tone confused.
"yes."
"but you're not anymore?" he asked, looking at you, leaning his cheek onto his knees like an impatient elementary school kid waiting for recess.
you shook your head. "no. he cheated on me."
there was a pause, brutal silence, as his brow furrowed in confusion, his fists clenched briefly before letting go. his gaze fell to his hands for a moment, and when he spoke again it was so cautious, so pointed, that your stomach sank. "and then you just happened to start dating me?" he looked so tired. "same job, same goals, pretty much same life." he let out a breath. "you can't tell me that's a coincidence."
you sighed, prayed to whatever god would listen that honesty would count for something. "no, it wasn't a coincidence." your heart felt like it was lulling itself to sleep. "you were never a coincidence."
he dropped his head between his knees, and hurt vibrated through the air like sound waves. you could feel his hurt in your fingertips, could have melted in down, frozen it, wielded it like a weapon. "tell me something, baby," he pleaded, muffled by his legs. "please."
you knew it was unfair, but you laid a gentle hand on his fingers. "let me tell you all of it, please, jack, and then you don't have to see me again if you don't want to."
he took a breath that you felt in your bones, then in an act of mercy you cherished, gave a soft nod.
so you did. you told him the whole story - how you had been so devastated and hurt that you were blinded by a desire to make auston suffer. how you had chosen jack on purpose, because you knew it would cut the deepest. how you had not simply shown up randomly at that bar, all that time ago, how all of it was part of a plan, down to flirting with his friend, down to that first game of pool.
he didn't push your hand away, actually leaned his leg into your arm as you told him the story. the scary part's over, you wanted to say, you can stop hiding under the covers, now.
and so you told him about how he had hijacked your plan entirely. how you never expected to determine how good your day was based on how often you heard his laugh, how no one could have predicted how often you dreamed of his smile, how days when he was away truly felt like a loss.
"if i had known you, i never would have put you through this," you told him, finally, honestly. "i would have left you alone."
he was quiet for a moment, and then he picked his head up and looked at you, genuinely, thoughtfully. "you never would have used me to get back at your ex-fiance?" he asked, but there was not really any bite in his tone.
you tried your luck, reached up, brushed his damp hair from his forehead. "i did use you," you admitted. "and i don't have an excuse." he looked at you with clear eyes. "it was mean, and cruel, and all i can do is say that i'm so, so sorry and i will never hurt you like that again. i promise, that's the truth."
in the silent moments after you finished speaking, you closed your eyes for a brief moment, waiting for his reaction.
when you opened your eyes, he was looking at you. he opened his legs and knees wide, held open his arms, waiting. "i believe you."
it took no convincing for you to settle into the space he had created for you, to lean back against his chest, feel his heartbeat between your shoulder blades, his arms coming around your sides to clasp in front of your middle.
"you believe me?" you said, almost a whisper. you picked up his hand, held it to your chest, shocked that he was letting you. shocked that he was still here, making space for you.
you let the smell of him engulf you. it felt similar to walking into your mother's closet - the evidence of her living, loving, everywhere around you. the evidence of jack was everywhere, now, all over you, growing like some carnivorous plant over your heart.
"you promised," he said simply, into your hair.
and how spectacular it felt for someone to take you seriously, to take your words at face value, to understand that when you promised something, you meant it.
it felt like words were failing you, so you brought his hand to your mouth and pressed your lips to his palm lightly.
he hummed into your hair. "tell me about now," he said, voice steady and patient.
"hm?" you twisted your neck to look him in the eye, leaned back further until the back of your head rested on his chest.
"you told me about before. about him," he said, his eyes swimming with home, with hope. "tell me about us. tell me about now."
you searched for words, wondering how you could convey just how important he was to you, just how deeply you cared.
you could have said that his eyes were the most beautiful ocean you'd ever swam in. you could have said that kissing him felt like swallowing stardust, that listening to him talk about his day was a privilege and honor.
you could have said how you loved his voice after a long day, how he wore his emotions openly, shamelessly, how kind he was to those around him, how he didn't let you leave his house in doubt for even a second about his feelings, how he let laughter come easy, how he was many things but never, ever, indifferent.
you could have said so many things, but sometimes poetry and fancy words are inadequate, just diluting the true meaning, make it taste like watered-down juice, faint and lacking.
you could have said so many things, but you just told him the truth.
"i wake up every morning and i think of you," you said. "every moment you're not with me, i wish you were." you willed every ounce of meaning into your gaze. "you are my first choice, every time, jack. and it's not even close."
there was a silence as he processed what you said, and something like adoration dawned in his gaze like a springtime sunrise.
he tilted his head down, pressed his lips to yours in a kiss that told you he understood.
that no matter how you had gotten here, you were here, now.
"tell me again," he whispered against your mouth, and you smiled into his. that, you could do.
fin.
#hockey#nhl#hockey smut#nhl smut#smut#jack hughes#jack hughes smut#quinn hughes#trevor zegras smut#jack hughes x reader#auston matthews x reader#auston matthews#auston matthews smut#auston matthews imagine#jack hughes x y/n#jack hughes imagine#new jersey devils#toronto maple leafs
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okay since you wanted requests to switch it up a bit.. could you write trevor zegras x fem!reader smut where his gf is less experienced than him and wants to give him head but she’s never done it before so he guides her through it 🫣
other requests: “could you write a smut with some fluff in it too, with trevor zegras walking his gf through giving him head because it’s her first time and she’s nervous/doesn’t know what to do”, “obsessed with the idea of trevor zegras talking his gf through how to give him head when it’s her first time and she’s nervous about not knowing what to do.. like literally giving her instructions throughout, with lots of praise and reassurance, but also dirty talk bc let’s be real, it’s trevor.”
warnings: oral (f and m receiving), dirty talk, inexperienced reader x experienced partner, praise, coming on face, masturbation
joke warnings: tw: los angeles angels (i prefer the dodgers), in a world where tz never broke his ankle during the 2023-2024 season…
pairing: trevor zegras x inexperienced!fem!reader
summary: see requests above.
wc: 3089
Trevor Zegras was the most giving, patient man you had ever known. Maybe his patience came from having younger siblings, but it was more likely that it came from years and years of working with teammates in a cutthroat sport. You had grown up watching hockey, gaining intimate knowledge of the sport when you had started dating Trevor. Trevor, in exchange, found himself more than knowledgeable about baseball, the sport of your choice, than he ever needed to be.
You two had met when you came to Anaheim, having graduated a year early from college with a degree in Sports Marketing. You had landed a job with the Los Angeles Angels, which had relocated you to the area, and you couldn’t imagine your life going any other way. There were times when you missed your family and missed home, but once you had gotten settled into your job and you had met Trevor, Anaheim started to feel like the home you’d been destined to find.
Anaheim was also an escape from your hometown– a place where, despite your best efforts, you did not feel welcome. You had told Trevor early in your relationship about your lack of experience sexually and tried to explain it away with a long-winded story about being a “weird kid,” but Trevor had brushed it off and told you he didn’t mind your inexperience. He was happy, he said, to teach you everything he could. All you had to do was say the word.
So, you’d worked up to it. You’d slept in the same bed, touched him, and he had touched you. Hockey season had helped the pace of your relationship, with Trevor traveling almost every other week. He was gone for two weeks straight in January, traveling from coast to coast, and it was then that you had shyly admitted to him through the tinny speaker of your phone how badly you wanted to suck him off.
He had fumbled with the phone, groaning at the idea alone of your mouth around his length, and it had resulted in a long FaceTime call in which you watched him fuck into his hand, telling you how much better it would feel if it was your mouth.
It was the Monday night after they had come back. Trevor had had a game on Sunday at Honda Center against the Rangers and spent the night at his place because it was closer to the rink. As much as he was itching to see you, and your heart was beating out of your chest at the idea of seeing him and going through with blowing him, you were scared. Trevor knew that you were nervous, the anticipation was getting to you, just from the way you were texting. The messages were shorter. You weren’t initiating conversation as much. The times between your responses were longer.
It didn’t matter, though. He was coming over tonight.He was going to cook you dinner. He was going to set the mood. He was going to make you comfortable if it was the last thing that he did, and if it meant that you wouldn’t get your mouth on him at all, he was okay with that.
Trevor arrived at your apartment about an hour after you got off work. Spring training was starting in just a month, so things were starting to pick up for you. You were stressed, plenty of tasks on your plate and most of them half-finished. A relaxing dinner with your boyfriend was going to provide a needed distraction.
Trevor had let himself into the apartment and was already pan-searing some cubed potatoes when you got out of the shower. He was in complete boyfriend mode, having stolen your apron and thrown it over his bare chest. You could see his tattoos from where you were standing, the ones littering his arms and the delicate one on his ribs, and you smiled.
He seemed like a tough guy, your boyfriend. He had the tattoos, the athletic ability, the sculpted form and ridged muscles of an athlete. Anyone who saw him in the supermarket might think he’s an asshole, but the second they get a good look at him, they’ll realize that he’s just a softie. He tied a delicate bow around the curve of his waist in your baby blue and frilly apron.
“I can feel you looking at me,” Trevor said. You watched his bicep ripple as he moved the potatoes around the pan with a spatula. He threw a glance over his shoulder. “Oh, good, you’re actually there. Could you imagine me saying that to the air?”
“I can, actually,” You replied with a laugh. You walked over and hugged Trevor from behind, arms wrapped solidly around his figure as you squished your cheek against his back. “I bet you did.”
Trevor sputtered out a denial, shaking his head. He relented just seconds later, unable to keep up the bit. “You’re right. I thought you were there like two minutes before you actually were.”
You giggled and pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades.
Trevor placed the spatula down on the counter, then turned the burner off and moved the pan to a different spot on the cooktop. He turned in your arms, inching over just a bit so that you were trapping him against the counter, not the oven. He gasped, reaching up and cradling your face in the palms of his hands.
“What?” You asked.
“You’ve gotten even prettier in the two weeks that I haven’t seen you,” He marveled, tilting your head from side to side as you rolled your eyes.
You pushed away from him, walking out of the kitchen.
Trevor trailed behind you like a puppy.
“You’re a loser,” You said.
“I love my pretty girlfriend,” Trevor replied.
As you passed the couch in your living room, Trevor tackled you over the arm of the object and you fell onto the cushions. You shrieked at the contact, at the fall, and squirmed in Trevor’s grip as he kissed over your neck and face. His fingers were digging into your sides, causing you to giggle and snort between breaths. Trevor was relentless, until he decided to plant a kiss on your lips.
He captured your lips with intent, slowly slotting your bottom lip between his. Trevor always kissed you with purpose, slow, like he was trying to memorize you. He slid his mouth into your tongue like he was trying to lap up your sweetness, keep it on his tongue until he could place your taste and replicate it in a dish or a drink, something he’d be willing to consume every day for the rest of his life. You liked most when he nibbled on your bottom lip before pulling away, something that was so trademark Trevor that it made you breathless. He would always pull back just to look at you, to push your hair out of your face, before diving back in.
He kissed you so gently, so sweetly, that when you felt his bulge press against you, you were almost caught off guard.
“Been thinking about you,” Trevor purred against your lips. “About what you said the other day.”
You froze and Trevor pulled away, hovering over you. He searched your face carefully.
“We don’t have to,” He reassured you. “You know we don’t have to. I’d never make you.”
“I want to,” You replied, voice small. “I’m just… scared.”
“Scared of what?” Trevor asked.
“What if I gag and I throw up all over you?” You cringed at the mere thought. “I’ll die if that happens.”
Trevor stifled a laugh. “I’ll shower and I’ll wait two weeks before letting you near my dick with your mouth again,” He answered, an easy smile turning up the corners of his mouth.
You pouted at him. “You’re not taking this seriously.”
“I am!” He protested. “Baby, you’re not going to throw up on my dick.”
“What if I do?”
“I just told you what we’d do if you threw up on my dick!”
“Okay, well, you’re not being very supportive of my fears.”
Trevor sighed and placed his hands on your shoulders. He stared deeply into your eyes. “I understand you are afraid of vomiting on my penis. I assure you, that will not happen.”
“How can you be so sure?” You whined.
“It’s never happened before,” Trevor said. He leaned down to kiss the spot under your ear. “Plus, baby, I’m going to go so slow that you’ll be begging for more by the end of it.”
A shiver ran down your spine at that, the way he whispered the words in your ear so his hot breath danced over your skin igniting a flame between your legs.
“Why don’t,” Trevor began, his hand making his way to your clothed mound, “I show you just how good getting head would make me feel?”
His deft fingers rubbed in circles over your clit, the pressure just intense enough to make you moan.
“Would you like that? I’ll get my tongue on you, make you come once, maybe twice…” Trevor kissed you, his lips sliding over yours, his tongue teasing its way into your mouth then out of it. “And then we can revisit the idea of getting your mouth on me?”
“Yeah,” You agreed lamely, the heat between your legs growing more slick with each circle of his fingers and each wet kiss.
Trevor stood from where he was lain on top of you. He untied your apron, which you had almost forgotten he was wearing, and tossed it to the side. He grabbed under your knees and dragged you down towards the arm of the couch, throwing one leg over the arm and setting your other foot on the floor. He kept a hand on that knee, rubbing smooth lines up and down your skin with his thumb. With his other hand, he traced the line of your folds through the fabric of your sweat-shorts.
They were a loose pair, gray and almost threadbare after years of washes and use. The fabric of the shorts was the thinnest barrier Trevor could have faced. You could have put on panties when you got out of the shower, but had opted just for these shorts instead. They were more comfortable. Now, they were just something stopping him from getting his mouth on you.
Except, it didn’t stop him.
Trevor mouthed over your clit, giving it an open-mouthed kiss. You whimpered at the shock that it sent up your body, causing your fingertips to twitch at your side. He ran his tongue over the length of your pussy and chuckled to himself when your hips jumped beneath him.
“Relax, honey,” Trevor said, his words muffled because he was still pressed against you. “Relax and enjoy.”
His fingers came up and moved your shorts out of the way, revealing you to him. Chastely, he kissed your folds, then pointedly blew cold air over your entrance.
“Trev,” You let out, reaching a hand towards his, still rubbing on your knee. He intertwined his fingers with yours, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze.
Trevor licked his way up to your clit again, capturing it between his lips and sucking. He rolled the bud on his tongue, causing your hips to lift again. “Be good,” He told you, voice low. His eyes were closed as he continued to lick over you, practically french kissing your lower lips the same way he would the ones on your face.
It was a gradual build, the coil in your stomach tightening. You squeezed Trevor’s hand and ground down on his tongue. He flattened his tongue against your clit, letting you hump it, before he tensed it at your entrance and prodded his way into you. He flicked the muscle fast, and the sensation was all too much for you.
You came undone with a loud cry, your thighs closing around Trevor’s head involuntarily.
He continued to lap at your release, cleaning you up and only stopping when you relaxed beneath him and pushed him away.
“How was that?” Trevor asked, his face level with yours.
You reached out and looped your arms around his neck, dragging him forward until your lips crashed against his. This kiss, at your direction, was much more passionate. You could taste yourself on his tongue and you moaned into his mouth. You turned, pushing at Trevor until he was the one seated on the couch. You found yourself on his lap, grinding down on his bulge.
“So you liked it?” Trevor asked.
You let out a laugh and sucked a hickey under his jaw. “Teach me how to make you feel good like that.”
Trevor shuddered when you scraped your teeth over his pulse point. “On your knees,” He told you. He guided you, with a hand on your shoulder, between his legs.
The sight of you there, feet tucked prettily under you, hands clasped in front of you, has Trevor’s dick twitching in his pants.
“Take my dick out, baby,” Trevor said, his voice soft but firm.
He lifted his hips as you pulled at his shorts. They pooled around his ankles, leaving him in just his briefs.
“Give me your hand.”
You reached up and he took your wrist, guiding your hand toward his bulge. He let your hand rest just to the side of him.
“Touch me. Over my pants.”
You traced the line of his dick over his pants, biting your lip when it jumped under your finger. You palmed him, fitting your hand over the curve of him and beginning to rub him up and down.
Trevor’s head tilted back and he let out a groan. “Faster.”
You sped up, just as he had asked you to, bringing your other hand up to cradle his balls.
“Fuck,” Trevor moaned, inadvertently tipping his hips up into your hand. “Take it out.”
You rushed to do so, scraping your nails against his sides when you pulled at his waistband. Trevor hissed at that, but didn’t say anything. When his dick was revealed to you, standing proud and dripping from the tip, you took it in your hand and leaned down to hesitantly lick his slit.
Trevor’s hands flew to your hair, the strands falling between his fingers. “Again,” He breathed out, eyes wide.
You licked his tip again, looking up at him through your eyelashes.
“Oh my God,” Trevor drawled out, borderline whimpering. “Baby, fuck, please.”
You smiled, proud of yourself for reducing him from someone who was so sure of himself and so loud to someone who is whining just from your touch. You circled your lips around his lip, sucking lightly.
His dick twitched. “So good,” Trevor praised. “Can you take more?”
You nodded out of instinct, but the sensation made him garble out an unintelligible string of words. You sunk down lower on his dick, feeling your lips stretch as you take him down your throat. You bobbed your head up and down slowly, feeling how he slid in and out of you. The taste of him on your tongue was addicting– salty and just so man. You moaned, the vibrations enveloping Trevor’s dick in a way that made him buck up into your throat. You gagged, a tear forming on your waterline.
Trevor grabbed your hair and pulled you up, just barely off the head of his dick.
“You okay?” He asked. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you gag.”
You cleared your throat and nodded. “You taste so good, Trevor.”
Trevor’s jaw dropped at the tone of your voice, light and innocent and sexy because it was worn with use.
“Fuck, suck me again, just take it,” Trevor encouraged, gathering your hair into a ponytail.
You lowered your mouth onto Trevor again, tracing your tongue over the vein on the underside of his dick. You used one hand to pump the part of his dick that you couldn’t fit into your mouth. You bobbed up and down, covering your teeth as best you could, but Trevor relished in the ghost of a scrape over his member when you got caught up in the moment.
He was groaning, babbling above you, his abs flexing as he drowned in pleasure. His face was flushed and you whined when you saw the mark that you left on his sharp jawline.
“Baby, you’re so good,” Trevor groaned. “You’re gonna make me come.”
You reached a hand down into your shorts and fingered furiously over your clit, swooning with the sensation there and of the weight on your tongue.
Trevor leaned forward and spotted your movements, saw your hand moving from inside your shorts. “Oh my God, fuck, yeah, make yourself come, too, baby…”
You gave it your all, twisting your hand around the length of Trevor that wasn’t inside your mouth. Drool slid out of your mouth, offering plenty of lubrication for your hand, making it easier to jerk him.
“God, fucking– baby, let me come on your face. Please, wanna see it on you,” Trevor begged.
He said it right as your fingers teased your entrance in just the right way, and you came for the second time that night, kneeling on the carpet for your boyfriend’s pleasure.
You pulled off of Trevor, but kept your mouth open, sticking your tongue out. He took his dick in his hand and jacked himself off quickly, hand flying over his length.
“Close your eyes,” Trevor warned, panting like he couldn’t catch his breath. “Don’t– fuck– don’t want to get my come in your eye.”
You obeyed him, reluctantly losing sight of his figure. There would be plenty of other times where you could watch his face contort with the bliss of his orgasm, but it’s nothing compared to the feeling of his hot, sticky come fall on your cheeks before Trevor aims his release at your tongue.
“God, Y/N,” Trevor groaned out. “I kind of want to take a picture of you like this.”
“Can I open my eyes?” You asked, “Wanna look up at you.”
“Yeah,” Trevor agreed, eyes fluttering as he took in the sight of you with his come on your face. When your eyes opened and met his, he felt himself starting to harden again. “Now I really want to take a picture.”
You wiped some of the come off of your cheek with your thumb before licking it off the digit. “Next time. I believe you promised me a home cooked dinner.”
notes: dear trevor zegras, i <3 you and think we could really get up to no good if you'd just give me a look. also, i wrote this at work. also, also, my coworker was sitting next to me and one of the elderly ladies asked me what i was typing. no comment.
#puck-luck's fics#trevor zegras#trevor zegras x reader#trevor zegras x y/n#trevor zegras smut#nhl smut#nhl x reader#nhl x y/n#nhl fic#nhl fanfiction#andy writes anything🍄#tz11#hockey smut
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My Sunshine
Prologue (short and sweet just how I like em)
Warnings - brief mentions of sex, mention of plan b pills, toxic relationship, pregnancy
a:n I feel like the chapter I posted for jack was too rushed, so I rewrote the entire thing. I hope you enjoy this one even more because I enjoyed writing the parts for it.
Masterlist Link
Summary: After Jason suddenly declares he no longer wants to have a baby with her, despite their previous plans, Y/N finally leaves the hell that is her home and seeks the one thing that could give her answers. After agonizing over the decision, Y/N takes the tests spiraling over the results.
Word Count ~ 2054
...
Y/N collapsed onto the bed, her chest heaving and her skin glistening with a sheen of sweat. Adrenaline still coursed through her veins as she reached out for Jason, desperately seeking the comfort of his warm embrace.
But to her dismay, he merely rolled over, his back facing her. The deafening silence that followed was oppressive, broken only by their labored breathing.
"Hey," she broached softly, a tremor in her voice. "What's wrong?" Y/N asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She propped herself up on her elbow, studying Jason's tense profile in the dim light of the bedroom as she gently rubbed his back, trying to offer whatever comfort she could.
He grumbled something unintelligible, his jaw clenched tight, his body rigid and unyielding.
"What did you say?" Y/N pressed, a sense of unease and dread creeping into her chest, tightening around her heart.
"I said," Jason repeated, his voice cold and detached, "I don't want to have a baby with you anymore."
Y/N's heart stopped, her breath catching in her throat as a wave of disbelief and heartbreak washed over her. In the muted glow of the bedroom, Y/N's world shattered like fragile glass. Her body, still throbbing and tingling from their intimate encounter, now grew cold and numb.
Jason sat up, his expression hard and unyielding as he turned to face Y/N. "You heard me. I don't want a baby. We try and try to conceive this...this thing ," he said, his voice dripping with disdain, "but it hasn't worked. I'm tired of trying. I've had my fill of you for the last five months."
Y/N felt as if she had been slapped, the words striking her like a physical blow. She sat up, clutching the sheet to her chest, her mind reeling from the devastating revelation.
"But we talked about this," she argued, her voice trembling with a mix of disbelief and hurt. "We agreed that we were ready, that we wanted to start a family. You said you were gonna marry me! How can you say you've had your fill of the woman you want to spend the rest of your life with?"
Jason scoffed, rolling his eyes dismissively. "Well, I changed my mind. And it's not like you have much of a say in the matter, anyway," he sneered.
Y/N's eyes narrowed, anger flaring hot and fierce in her veins. "Excuse me?" she hissed, her voice low and dangerous. How dare he treat her as if she had no say in the matter - this was their future, their dream, their child they were discussing.
"You heard me," Jason repeated, his tone mocking and callous. "It's my decision, too. And I've decided that I don't want a kid tying me down." He turned away, his broad shoulders rigid with finality, leaving Y/N feeling utterly betrayed and alone.
Without another word, Y/N rose from the bed, her movements stiff and mechanical as she gathered her discarded clothes. She stalked into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her with a resounding bang that reverberated through the tense silence.
Leaning heavily against the sink, she braced her trembling hands on the cool porcelain as hot, angry tears streamed down her flushed cheeks.
With a shaking hand, she turned on the shower, the scalding spray pounding against her skin as she stepped under it, scrubbing furiously.
She tried in vain to wash away the lingering feeling of Jason's touch, the essence of their intimate encounter seeping onto her thighs. The water cascaded down her body, but it offered no solace, no relief from the anguish consuming her.
Desperate, Y/N rummaged through the cabinets, her movements frantic as she pushed aside bottles of shampoo and tubes of toothpaste, searching for the small foil packet that held her last hope. But as she tore through the cluttered shelves, her heart sank, a fresh wave of panic crashing over her.
The pill was gone.
"No, no, no," she choked out, her voice breaking with anguish. "Fuck!" she cried, slamming her fist against the unyielding tile wall.
The impact sent a jolt of pain through her hand, but she barely registered it, consumed by the overwhelming fear of being trapped - tethered to a man who no longer loved her, who didn't want the life they had so carefully planned together.
The bathroom descended into chaos as Y/N's desperation reached a fever pitch. She swept her arm across the counter, sending bottles and jars crashing to the floor, the sound of shattering glass mingling with her anguished sobs.
Tearing open drawers, she flung their contents aside, heedless of the mess she was creating. In her frantic search, she upended the trash can, the contents spilling out across the tile.
Y/N's world was crashing down around her, and she felt powerless to stop it. She sank to the floor, curling in on herself as the full weight of her devastation overwhelmed her. Clutching her knees to her chest, she wept bitterly, her heart shattering into a million irreparable pieces.
…
The fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting an eerie glow on the nearly empty shelves of the CVS. Y/N stood in the middle of the aisle, her eyes darting back and forth between the rows of cardboard boxes, her heart pounding in her chest.
The silence was deafening, broken only by the distant hum of the refrigerators and the static of the TV mounted on the wall.
Beside her, Heather shifted from foot to foot, her impatience growing with each passing second. The tapping of her foot against the linoleum floor echoed through the store, grating on Y/N's already frayed nerves.
"Could you stop tapping and put that pea brain of yours to use?" Y/N snapped, her voice cutting through the stillness like a knife. The harsh words escaped her lips before she could even register them, her nerves completely frayed.
Heather shot her a sideways glance, her lips pressed into a thin line. She reached out and grabbed a box from the shelf, shoving it into Y/N's hands.
"This looks fine, Y/N," she said, her tone clipped and laced with a hint of irritation. "You've read every box back to front. I think you should just choose one."
Y/N stared down at the box in her hands, her mind racing with a whirlwind of emotions. She knew Heather was right, but choosing a box made the situation feel too real – this box held the answer to the rest of her life. The weight of the decision felt crushing, and she couldn't help but feel utterly alone in this moment, despite Heather's presence.
Swallowing thickly, Y/N ran her fingers over the cardboard, tracing the words printed on the packaging. Every fiber of her being wanted to tear the box open, to find the answers that would dictate her future. But the fear of what those answers might be paralyzed her, leaving her frozen in place, the box trembling in her shaking hands.
"Screw it," Y/N muttered under her breath, her resolve hardening. She grabbed four more boxes from the shelf, the cardboard containers feeling heavy in her hands.
Without another moment's hesitation, she turned to walk away, but something made her pause. With a sigh of frustration, she spun back around and snatched one more box, just for good measure.
Heather let out a surprised laugh, shaking her head in disbelief at Y/N's sudden burst of decisiveness. "Alright, that's more like it," she murmured, offering her friend an encouraging smile, despite the gravity of the situation.
She wandered over to the fridges and grabbed a 2-liter bottle of soda before meeting Y/N at the checkout counter.
They plopped their items down in front of the cashier, a middle-aged man with a receding hairline and a bored expression on his face. He glanced up at them, his eyes widening as he took in the array of pregnancy tests and the massive bottle of soda.
The cashier's voice cut through the tense silence as he spoke up, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Having trouble deciding, ladies?"
Y/N felt her cheeks heat up, suddenly self-conscious under the man's curious gaze. She opened her mouth to respond, but the words caught in her throat, leaving her uncharacteristically flustered.
Thankfully, Heather jumped in, offering the cashier a polite smile. "Oh, you know how it is," she said, her tone light and diplomatic. "Gotta make sure we get the right ones, you know?"
The cashier nodded, his expression understanding as he scanned their items and bagged them up. "That'll be $32.50," he said, adding the final box to the pile.
Y/N silently handed over the cash, her heart pounding in her chest. "Thank you," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. The cashier gave her a sympathetic nod, his eyes twinkling with a hint of empathy that made Y/N's stomach twist.
With the transaction complete, they turned and walked out of the CVS, the automatic doors sliding shut behind them with a soft whoosh. The night air was cool and crisp, a welcome relief from the stuffy interior of the store.
Y/N took a deep breath, savoring the sensation of the fresh air filling her lungs as she gripped the bag containing the pregnancy tests, the weight of it heavy in her hand.
She looked over at Heather, who gave her a reassuring smile. "Ready?" her friend asked, her voice soft and laced with concern.
Y/N steeled herself, squaring her shoulders as she met Heather's gaze. "not at all," she replied. With a deep breath, she began walking towards her car, Heather by her side.
…
Y/N sat on the cold tile floor of her bathroom, her knees drawn up to her chest and her heart racing. She had lined up all eleven pregnancy tests on the edge of the bathtub, each one turned face down, waiting for the results that would change her life forever.
The minutes ticked by agonizingly slowly, each second feeling like an eternity. Y/N's mind raced with a million different scenarios, each one more terrifying than the last. What would she do if the tests were positive? How would she tell Jason? Would he even care?
Suddenly, Heather's voice rang out from the other side of the door, startling Y/N from her thoughts.
"Time!" she shouted, her voice muffled by the thick wood.
Y/N inhaled deeply, trying to calm her frayed nerves. She slowly lifted her head from her lap, her muscles aching from sitting in the same position for so long. Using the sink for support, she pulled herself to her feet, her knees suddenly weak and shaky.
With trembling hands, Y/N reached out and flipped over the first test, her heart pounding in her chest. A bold, unmistakable pink plus sign stared back at her, and she felt her heart skip a beat, her breath catching in her throat.
Hands shaking, she moved down the line, flipping over each test one by one. Plus sign after plus sign greeted her, until all eleven tests lay face up on the bathtub, their results crystal clear.
Y/N hiccupped, her hand flying to her mouth as a tear slipped down her cheek. She was pregnant. There was no denying it now - the evidence was right there in front of her, etched in pink and white plastic.
The reality of the situation crashed over her like a tidal wave, and she felt her legs give out from under her as she sank back down to the floor.
Sobs wracked her body, her anguish palpable as she grappled with the devastating truth. She was going to be a mother, and the father of her child was a man who no longer wanted her.
Heather's voice called out again, this time softer and more concerned. "Y/N? Are you okay in there?"
Y/N tried to respond, but the words stuck in her throat, choked by the lump of emotion that had settled there. She heard the doorknob rattle, and then Heather was there, kneeling beside her on the floor and wrapping her in a tight, comforting embrace.
"Oh, honey," Heather murmured, stroking Y/N's hair as she cried. "It's going to be okay. We'll figure this out together, I promise." Heather's voice was soothing, a balm to Y/N's shattered nerves, and she clung to her friend arms.
...
Tag List <3
@fearfam69691, @alwaysclassyeagle, @rebelatbay, @dancerbailey3, @dasiysthings, @shawnshoney
#jack hughes fanfiction#jack hughes#jack hughes fic#timo meier#njd#new jersey devils#luke hughes#dawson mercer#jack hughes x reader#new fic#jack hughes smut#jack hughes imagine#jack hughes x oc#jack hughes x y/n#jack hughes blurb#jack hughes masterlist#jack hughes x you#jack hughes x sister!reader#new writers on tumblr#nhl x reader#hockey imagine#nj devils#jh86#hughes brothers#nhl smut#nhl hockey#nhl fic#nhl playoffs#nhl imagine
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Santa red-J. Hughes
Jack Hughes x fem! Reader
Jack gifts you an early Christmas gift and asks you to model it for him
Warnings?; SMUT, p in v, unprotected sex(a no no), teasing, pet names, dirty talk, grinding, cursing, kissing, porn with a small plot, this was supposed to be out before Christmas so I apologize😭, sorry for any errors!
Day 10 of my ficmas celebration!
The ride home from the prudential center was quiet, not a word spoken even as Jack pulled into his parking spot and exited the car.
You could see he was still tense from the game, you could hear Lindy screaming at them from the hallway where you and Jim waited for the boys to come out.
The tips of his ears were still red with anger, and you knew him well enough to know he was still pissed about being sent to the box and the added loss had fueled his anger further.
Once you entered the shared apartment he took off towards your bedroom while you went into the kitchen, You were taking a drink of water when you heard his stiff voice call out for you.
“Everything okay?” You questioned as you appeared in the doorway of the bedroom.
Jack was sitting on the bed, shoes and coat off but his game day suit still hugged his body deliciously. Beside him was a Christmas bag, tissue paper coming from the top.
“Can you put this on?” He asked, extending the bag out towards you.
“What is it?” You questioned, taking the bag from his outstretched hand.
“Was supposed to be a Christmas gift, but I can’t wait any longer.” His voice was low, not longer only filled with anger and embarrassment but something more.
“Okay.” You shrugged, setting it down on the dresser beside you as you went to strip off your devils crewneck, however a large hand on your arm stopped you.
“C-can you put it on in the bathroom? Wanna watch you walk out in it.” He blushed.
“Of course.” You smiled, picking the bag back up you made your way into the large bathroom connected to your bedroom.
Opening the bag you found a box, one that belonged to Jacks favorite lingerie store. You had bought a set for his birthday one year and since then he had been in love with the place.
Opening the box you were met with a deep red set, a tad bit darker than traditional Christmas red. Running a finger over the lace you took in how delicate it was.
You would never understand why he spent so much money on sets just for him to always end up ripping some part of it during the night.
Stripping off your clothes you slid the set onto your body, admiring yourself in mirror. Your eyes caught how well the color complimented your skin tone and the way the cups of the bra pushed your boobs up perfectly.
“Once again, you have magnificent taste.” You laughed as you stepped out of the bathroom.
Jacks head whipped in your direction as he heard your voice, a breath getting caught in his throat as his eyes locked on your body.
The set was perfect, the panties making your legs looks even more delicious, and your breasts-god your breasts, Jack wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to control himself.
“Oh fuck me.” He mumbled, running his hands over his face.
“I mean if you want me to.” You teased the man, making your way over to stand between his legs.
“You look breathtaking.” He spoke lowly, eyes taking in your body at a closer angle.
“Thank you.” You smiled, leaning down to give him a soft peck.
The boy whined as you tried to pull away, his large hands wrapping around your bare waist to keep you trapped between his spread legs.
“Give me a real kiss.” He whispered, lips just inches from yours.
“That was a real kiss” you giggled, but Jack didn’t find any amusement in your words and he quickly showed you that by tangling one of his hands in your hair and pulling your lips to his.
It was hot and breathtaking as his tongue traced against yours before it quickly won dominance, your lips moved feverishly in sync earning him a low moan from your throat.
His hand that still rested on your waist slipped down to the back of your thigh, lifting it lightly he signaled that he wanted you to sit on his lap.
You pulled your lips away from his to take your position overtop of him but the make out hastily resumed as you pulled the beanie off his head and tangled your fingers in his damp hair.
The dark locks were still damp from his post game shower but that didn’t stop you from tugging and pulling on the locks just the way he liked.
A smirk overtook your face at the hoarse cry that broke from his throat when you grounded your core over the tent in his pants.
“Baby.” He groaned, hands coming to still your moving hips.
“What do you need Jacky?.” You teased, lips trailing all around his throat.
“You. Need to fuck you.” He groaned, head tipping back instinctively allowing you more skin to roam.
He shivered as you smirked against his skin, heat growing in his stomach as you pulled away and looked down at him.
His eyes followed you as you moved yourself off of his lap and moved your hands up to undo the buttons on his dress shirt, however Jack was a bit to impatient and moved your hands to rip it open instead.
You giggled before trailing your hands down his toned abdomen to his belt, hands working quickly to undo the buckle and pull his pants and boxers down.
And while Jack expected you to climb back on his lap he was filled with confusion as you stepped back and moved to sit against the head board.
“You said you wanted to fuck me, so fuck me.” You smirked down at him with eyes full of lust.
Jack could feel the heat spread from his lower stomach up to his spine as you trailed a hand down to slowly rub over your clit through your lacy panties.
Shaking out of his haze jack shot up and removed his remaining clothing before his body was hovering over yours.
His large hand wrapped around yours and moved it to the side with a soft ‘tsk’ as his own hand came to push the lace to the side.
A groan left his mouth at the sight of how wet you were for him, your cunt glistening in the low light of the bedroom.
A deep cry came from you as he ran his cock through your folds, his head pushing into your entrance with ease.
His hips thrusted forward as a fast pace, the anger that had once been building up in his body now being filtered into his thrusts.
“Jack!” You cried as he shifted one of your legs over his shoulders, his length now hitting the spongy spot deep inside you.
“So good for me baby, feel so fucking good.” He groaned hoarsely.
One of his hands came down to pull the cups of your bra down, hands coming down to palm your breasts, His thumbs tweaked and pulled at your nipples earning sweet cries of pleasure from you.
“Shi-Jacky, you’re so deep.” You whimpered as you felt his tip once again nudging that spot deep within you.
Jack admired the way your body reacted to his menstruations, how your hands clenched the sheets beside you and how your head was thrown back in nothing but pure pleasure.
He could feel you clenching him tightly, and by the way your moans had subsided to drawn out whimpers and mumbles he knew you were getting close.
“Gonna come for me baby?” He questioned as one of his hands came down to rub cricles over your clit.
“Mhm” you moaned with a drunken nod.
Jack smirked at the state of you, he loved nothing more than watching you completely fucked out for him.
“Come on baby, give it to me.” He encouraged, thumb moving at the same pace as his snapping hips as he chased a high of his own.
A loud cry broke through the room as your climax overtook you, the leg that was hooked over jacks shoulder shaking while your back arched and eyes clenched shut.
“So beautiful.” He praised as he placed light kisses to your lips, swallowing your whimpers of overstimulation.
“I know baby, I know. I’m almost there.” He groaned, forehead resting against yours as his thrusts began to get sloppy and deeper.
With a few more deep thrusts the air was filled with a deep groan as Jack came deep inside you, painting your warm walls white with his release.
His large body collapsed on top of yours as his head snuggled into your neck, lips leaving small kisses on the skin.
“Feel better?” You spoke quietly bringing a hand to run through his damp hair.
“Much. Thank you baby.” He smiled giving you a proper kiss before he slid out of you and went to grab a towel to clean you up.
A few minutes later you were both snuggled on the couch, the soft light of the Christmas tree filling the living room while you two let out soft giggles while watching elf.
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#jack hughes x reader#jack hughes imagine#jack hughes smut#jack hughes fluff#jack hughes#jack x reader#nhl#nhl fanfiction#hockey imagine#nhl imagine#nhl smut#nhl blurb#jay’sficmas
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Can i please ask a small scenario of luke hughes finishing first and he is so embarrassed and cute and hides his face in readers face and neck. Reader is so calm and sweet to him. Thanks love 🥰
Okay okay, so this was very brief! And also my first time writing about Luke Hughes... and I know I said no players born after 2001, but what can I say, I do like a challenge 🙈 Though I do feel like I violated him...
Hope it's alright love 😉🤍
Warnings; 18+ smut; protected sex (p in v);
Word count; 1.5K
・✶ ｡ﾟ
Practice makes perfect | Luke Hughes 🖋️⚡️
"What a game, huh?" you exclaimed with excitement as you greeted Luke, who was coming out of the locker room after the New Jersey game against the Blackhawks.
"It was alright," the young defensemen simply smiled in response.
"Alright? Luke, you played amazingly tonight," you embraced him in a hug, smiling up at your tall boyfriend, feeling he deserved more praise.
"Thanks," he flashed you a sweet, humble smile, wrapping his long arms around your body. Tucking you into him before letting you go and admiring your beautiful face. "So, what's the plan now?"
You could sense a slight hint of nervousness in his question, considering that you and Luke had only recently started seeing each other.
You had gotten to know him platonically during the summer, and as the regular season progressed, you slowly grew closer. However, your relationship was still fairly new.
"Coming over to your place?" you timidly suggested in a sweet voice, and Luke couldn’t help but return your joy. You always had a way of making him weak in the knees, from the very first moment he laid eyes on you, where he mentally had to kick himself multiple times for taking so long to ask you out.
"Definitely!"
And there you were, entwined on his sofa, celebrating the night's victory, with his 6'2" frame leaning over you. Your fingers intertwined in his brown curls as his lips caressed yours, his tongue gently seeking entrance, meeting yours with hunger.
The room was dimly lit, with the soft glow of a lamp casting a warm ambiance. The celebration continued with the faint sound of the TV playing highlights of the game in the background. The scent of victory lingered in the air, mixed with the comforting aroma of the takeout you both had enjoyed earlier.
"Easy, Luke," you chuckled lightly into the kiss, feeling his desire growing, along with impatience and almost neediness. "Slow down, we've got time."
"Sorry, babe," he breathed out with a light smile. "I'm just so..."
"Turned on?" you asked, your eyes glancing downwards to his very hard member, concealed in his sweats.
"Yeah," he softly admitted before once again pressing his mouth onto yours. Although he did try to slow down a little, it was rather difficult for him.
You were one of the most gorgeous and sweet girls he'd ever met. His hockey career always making it difficult to date like a regular teenager, and as a young adult having to take life seriously now, it hadn't gotten any easier.
But then you came around. And though he wasn't exactly a virgin when the two of you met, he might still have been on the less experienced side. Again, his hard work to reach the same level of career as his brothers had limited his social life. Which also meant his intimate time with girls.
And as you felt his rather sizeable length, firm against your inner thigh, you knew he was too worked up to slow down any further.
"Bedroom, Luke..." you breathed in between his sloppy kisses, and before long, he guided you to his room, where he swiftly pulled his shirt over his head, exposing his toned hockey torso, while you discarded your own blouse. Trousers went next, and not many seconds passed before you were back in the same position, your legs on each side of Luke as he hovered over you, lips connected, bodies growing warmer with every touch, creating friction, and sweat.
Yet, despite his deep need to feel himself reaching the much-anticipated climax, Luke was still trying his best to focus on you.
So, as you shared the passionate kiss, his fingers found the edge of your knickers, gently sneaking a finger inside as he located your entrance, poking and teasing before sliding it in.
Soft moans escaped your lips as you felt the pleasure he was causing, and you slowly developed an impatient need for more, which was given to you with a second finger.
And as Luke skilfully fingered you, something he'd, of course, learned from his older brothers, he too felt the impending surge of pleasure within him. The room filled with the heady mix of desire and intimacy, creating a space where time seemed to stand still, solely dedicated to the symphony of your shared sensations.
His cock was already dripping with pre-cum, creating a small damp patch in his boxers as he felt it throbbing, almost pulsating, craving to be touched.
"Yes, Luke," you moaned softly as you felt his fingers massaging your walls.
But with every pump, he felt himself in more need to feel those walls around his length instead. So, as impatience took over, he withdrew his fingers, leaving you feeling a void as he shifted his position, pulled off his boxers, and then returned to tuck down your underwear.
His facial expression was so serious, much like when he was playing hockey - focused and determined. Yet, this time, he also seemed desperate to be touched and in need to reach his peak.
Reaching over to the nightstand where Jack had been kind enough to place a few condoms as a joke, he took out the little packaging. However, as he seemed to fumble with it, you offered him a helping hand.
"Here, let me," you smiled up at him as you took out the latex and gently wrapped his length, causing little squirms from the boy above you, as your touch made him feel the sense of pleasure he was craving.
And then swiftly, he returned to missionary once more and let the tip of his member gently touch and tease your tight entrance.
"Slowly, love," you tried with a soft whisper. However, as Luke eased himself into your depth, your whisper quickly turned into a moan instead, feeling his long shaft filling your warmth.
"Shit..." he breathed out, slowly beginning to rock his hips, letting his cock glide in and out of you as he stimulated your walls. The room echoed with the sounds of your shared passion, a harmony of gasps, moans, and the rhythmic dance of bodies entwined in the heat of the moment. The intensity grew, the connection deepening with every thrust, creating a heated atmosphere.
"That's it, Luke..." you moaned in between breaths as he found a solid pace, thrusting and hitting the very end of your depth. Your hands finding his locks that you could pull on as you felt the building of an orgasm once again within.
However, the more Luke felt stimulated, the more he increased his speed. His thrusts slowly grew eager and more forceful as he got closer to his climax, still feeling the rush of a win from the match as he pounded into you.
And you felt him getting sloppier. His eyes shutting close as he desperately fought not to reach the peak, trying his best to have you come with him. Carefully he listened to your moans as you were about to let yourself give in to an orgasm as well.
"Yes, baby... I'm close... please come with me..." Luke almost cried out.
And you were almost there with him.
But as you were about to announce your climax, the tightening of your core around Luke's shaft had him involuntarily come a little too close to his peak. And with a deep, uncontrollable grunt, he let himself go, spilling his release into the latex as he felt the rush take over.
"Fuck..." Luke shouted, letting go of the last drops, his body trembling as he almost collapsed and fell with his face into the crook of your neck. The room was filled with the aftermath of passion, both of you catching your breath in the shared intimacy of the moment. The echoes of pleasure lingered in the air, creating a sense of vulnerability.
You let the silence fill the room as Luke slowly gained control of his heavy breaths, his body lying on top of you as he let out a deep sigh.
"I'm so sorry, babe..." he timidly mumbled into your skin, and you couldn't help but form a soft smile on your lips.
"It's okay, Luke," you tried to comfort him with a soft tone of voice, gently stroking your fingers through his hair before he lifted his head to look at you.
"No, it's not okay... you didn't get to come first, baby... you know I always want that," he whispered softly, his eyes darting from side to side as he kept apologising.
But you merely offered him another light chuckle and caressed his cheek. "Hey, it was your night tonight... after the thrill from the game, and how eager we both were, it makes sense it didn't take long."
“Still… I feel bad about not making you come…”
Once more, you just flashed him a soft smile.
“Well, I guess we’ll just have to do it again – you know what they say: practice makes perfect.”
And your words seemed to slowly reassure him as you both remained in the relaxed position, comforting each other while keeping your eyes locked onto his. Eventually, he accepted your words and withdrew himself from your embrace.
Though you had to admit feeling a little disappointed, having been so close to your peak, you were also okay with how Luke came to his release. He had made you feel good after all, and it truly brought you joy to please him.
#my asks#luke hughes x reader#luke hughes imagine#luke hughes smut#nhl smut#new jersey devils imagine
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