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puck-luck · 14 hours

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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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shark-myths · 27 days

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🍄 and 🔪 for the ask game!

🍄 - share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings

GOBverse Andy is so crabby about being shorter than Jo. They consider the johawk cheating and refuse to believe Jo would wear heels for any other reason than to annoy them. Jo, who never noticed she was taller than Andy before they commented on it, now likes to stand on her tiptoes to make herself harder to kiss. She also likes to share facts about health risks associated with shortness, such as increased risk of coronary heart disease of up to 50%.

🔪 - what's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

Oh god what HAVEN’T I researched. The two most egregious examples that come to mind are: doing physics calculation to estimate the PSI of a smack with a full-grown swan wing, for a throwaway fucking joke line; in depth hard science research into botanical research being done on the International Space Station; and every single time I write anything in Chicago and google map it to the nth degree because that’s where I’m from and I need every single detail to be fucking correct, no matter how minor it is; when I just now researched health risks of being short for the mushroom.

#these are the funnest!#thanks love #asks #fic asks

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goldheartedsky · 2 months

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🧃🍄📚?

🧃⇢ share some personal lore you never posted about before

This is gonna get real deep and real personal *really* fast, but here we go. When I was a teenager, my first real boyfriend was addicted to heroin. I was young and dumb and thought I knew what I was getting into but his addiction got worse through our relationship and affected us both tremendously. And it's part of the circumstances that lead to his death.

So one of the reasons that I write a lot of addicts (specifically heroin addicts) in recovery is to give the characters in my stories a better ending than he got and the one he deserved.

🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings

I think there's an incredibly sentimental side to Andy that not a lot of people see, but I think it comes out the most when she's alone with Booker. I think he was incredibly patient in waiting for whatever kind of relationship she was willing to have with him and she recognized that—someone that wasn't going to expect her to be anything other than herself—and that was what finally won her over. So she's able to let her guard down with Booker in a way that she still hasn't completely figured out how to do with Nicky and Joe, even though she's known them for far longer.

📚 ⇢ what's the last thing you wrote down in your notes app?

Okay real talk I don't use my notes app at all so there's literally like...nothing but a couple of days I needed to remember to call off of work from last summer slkfdjkldjf

More Writer's Truth or Dare asks

#answered asks #ask games

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puck-luck · 3 days

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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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puck-luck · 8 days

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not-so quickie | jack hughes

warnings: morning sex, unprotected p in v, thigh riding, dirty talk, jack as a boob guy for SURE, pet names, domesticity, jack x y/n being precious partners fo'eva pairing: jack hughes x fem!reader summary: the one when reader and jack's morning antics leave jack rushing to get to training. wc: 1967

Whenever you wake up in the same bed as Jack, which was more often than not nowadays, his dick is poking the small of your back or it’s nestled right against the curve of your ass. Either Jack is pulling you into him in his sleep or you’re pressing back into him in your sleep, but the way you get into this position doesn’t actually matter because it always ends in the same outcome: you, awake, because Jack has his morning wood. This morning, the tight grip Jack’s hands has on your hip explains the events of the night perfectly.

Despite the closeness between your bodies, you manage to turn to face Jack without waking him up. You trace the line of his nose, the freckles on his cheeks, and thumb over his bottom lip.

Still asleep, Jack sighs at your light touch and pulls you as close as he can, slipping his thigh between your legs. You smile, feeling like a beam of light could erupt from your chest with how fond you are for this boy. His eyelashes flutter and the corner of his lip twitches. You can tell he’s fighting to stay asleep and you don’t blame him– the bed is comfortable, warm, and he doesn’t have to be at his off-season training for almost an hour and a half.

“Jacky,” you whisper, watching as his nose scrunches when he loses the battle.

“No,” he groans, voice thick with sleep. He feels blindly for the hem of your big shirt, the only thing you wore to bed last night, and pulls it up until he can pull it over his head. He kisses the space between your boobs before he relaxes and tries to fall back asleep.

You giggle when his breath washes over your chest, partially because it tickles and partially because you know that if Jack could climb into your skin, he would.

“Good morning, sweet boy,” you say, scraping your fingernails down Jack’s back in soothing movements.

“G’morning,” comes Jack’s muffled reply. “You woke me up.”

When you pull your shirt collar away from your chest to peek down at him, Jack’s got that trademark Hughes pout written across his face. His eyes reflect betrayal, but you know he’s not really mad.

“You woke me up,” you parrot back at him.

Jack lets out a “hmph!” of displeasure at that. “Clearly, one of us is lying. That’s not possible.”

“Your little friend poked me awake.” You poke Jack to emphasize your point.

He laughs and his movements shake you. He adjusts you in his arms so you can feel the press of his, still hard, “little friend” against your hip. “This guy?” He asks.

You hum, nodding. “That’s the one.”

“Poked you awake?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Well, that’s not very nice of him, is it?”

“Not at all.”

“What should we do about that?”

“I don’t think he should get to have any fun for the next week.”

Jack retreats from under your shirt at that and hovers above you. “A week?” He repeats, disbelief dripping from his words. “No, pretty girl, that’s cruel and unusual punishment. That’s against the Constitution.”

You laugh and press a hand to his chest. “Since when are you such a patriot?”

“I know my rights.” Jack leans down to kiss the side of your neck, then blows a raspberry in the same spot.

You shriek and twist away from him, but Jack’s hands keep you firmly underneath him. His thigh keeps you pinned in place and offers some solid pressure to your core. His dick is still pressed against your hip and even though you’re both laughing as you try to evade his wandering lips and fingertips, you can practically feel him throbbing with the contact.

“Jack!” You squeal when he digs his fingers into your sides. You reach down and grab his wrists, trying to stop him from making any more moves, but he easily reverses your grip so he’s holding your wrists instead. He presses them down into the pillow above your head and your breath catches. His eyes are on yours and time suspends, the air thick between you two.

You’re breathing heavily and Jack’s got that barely-there smile on his face. He bites his lip, then licks it.

You’re not even registering how your hips grind down on his thigh until he looks down to where you’re touching. You look too and gasp, remembering that you are completely bare on his thigh when you see the patch of wetness glistening on his skin.

When you look back up, Jack is staring at you with something akin to determination in his hooded eyes.

“Not so upset about being woken up now, huh?” He teases, tensing his thigh and leaning into you.

“Shut up,” you breathe out, tilting your hips up to meet him.

Jack watches you without saying a word for a few minutes, a small smile present on his lips.

Your eyes are closed, your head is tilted back, your hair is loose and falling in a halo around your head. It’s tangled and tousled from your sleep. You’ve got a fading crease from the fabric of your pillow across your cheek. Your shirt has ridden up to reveal your stomach and Jack reaches out to place a hand on it. He spreads his fingers wide and licks his lips at how his hand looks covering you. You’re so beautiful, he thinks, I want to do this with you forever.

“Jack,” you moan, finally opening your eyes and looking into his. You continue to roll your hips against his thigh, so dense and strong and so there beneath you.

“Yeah, honey?” He replies, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips. “What do you need?”

“Want you inside me.” Your jaw drops when Jack thrusts his leg against your core, and stays there.

Jack looks over at the clock on your bedside table and thinks. He’s got a little over an hour before training, but he’ll have to shower and that could take five or thirty minutes depending on if you join him. He needs to cook and eat, which might take twenty minutes. The drive is fifteen minutes if he speeds (he does every time). He looks back at you and melts at the way you’re staring up at him, begging him for more with just your eyes.

“Fuck, can you be quick?” He asks.

“So close already, Jacky, just want you inside.”

Jack rolls onto his back and shoves his boxers down to his knees, pulling you on top of him. “Ride me. Make yourself feel good.”

You line him up with your entrance and sink down, feeling the breath seep out of you as he fills you up. You move your hips in slow circles, feeling him drag along your walls and press every delicious spot inside of you. You lean forward and stabilize yourself by putting both your hands on Jack’s abdomen. You can feel his abs tense as you start to move up and down on his cock.

He’s staring up at you like you’re a dream. He’s got a hand on your hip and a hand on your thigh, rubbing up and down on your smooth skin with his thumb. The only noises between you are the noises of pleasure that fall from your lips and the strangled breaths that fall from Jack’s. You take him how you want him, deep and consistent rather than fast and hard, and Jack wonders if, maybe, this is how life was meant to be lived all along?

When you pull your shirt over your head, Jack’s hand shoots up to knead your breast. He stares, mouth slightly parted, at the way they move when you continue to bounce on top of him and how they fill his palm, the weight of them causing him to smirk with pride. He’s a boob man at heart, always has been, and these tits are his, you’re his. He starts to thrust up into you once he’s got his hands on your tits, loving the way they feel under his fingers so much that he loses track of the fact that you were supposed to be keeping the pace you wanted.

Not that you mind.

You let him fuck up into you, the tip of his dick hitting your deepest point and making you a mess. “Jack,” you whine.

“Yeah, baby, that’s right,” Jack grunts out, one hand dropping to your side to pull you down into him in time with his thrusts up. “Say my name, tell me who’s making you feel good.”

You’re both sweating, a light sheen of sweat glistening on your bodies as the sun peeks through the curtains. If you looked behind you, you’d see the mess that you left on Jack’s thigh earlier. The messy hair that you love so much is starting to stick to his forehead, clumping up in strands that fall across the skin in the most beautiful way. They’re like that because of you, because of how good he’s making you feel, the effort he puts in, and it’s that knowledge that brings you one step closer to your orgasm.

“You look so,” you say, losing the words when Jack tilts his hips to meet that one spot inside of you. “Oh, fuck, Jack.”

“Gorgeous,” Jack tells you, finishing the sentence that you had started and abandoned. “Everything I ever wanted, my pretty girl, my baby. Wanna see you come, love, wanna see you make a mess all over my cock. C’mon, baby, come for me.”

He continues to urge you as your moans grow in pitch. He continues to slam into you and it’s the tortured whimper he lets out when you clench down on him that sets off your orgasm. You almost collapse on top of him as you move your hips frantically with his stuttering ones. Your hands press on his chest, your breasts dangling right there, right in front of him, and Jack comes.

“Fuck, baby,” he whines, looping an arm around your waist and fucking up into you wildly as he comes. He bites down and sucks on the skin of one of your tits as he comes down, pulling away to reveal a patch of his saliva that will certainly turn red, then purple, then blue over the next few hours.

You both breathe heavily after the high of your orgasms, with you gently rising off of Jack and removing him from the warmth of your pussy.

“Good morning,” Jack says again when you cuddle into his side, your head resting on his arm and your fingertips dancing over his stomach.

“Good morning,” you reply with a smile when his dick twitches at your movements.

Jack throws a glance over the top of your head towards the clock.

“Mm,” Jack groans as he pushes himself up. He kisses you, long and soft, before he gets up to go to the bathroom. “That didn’t go as quick as I needed it to. Now I have to rush.”

“You’re complaining?” You tease.

“Never. Never complaining about getting to spend time with my pretty girl.”

You beam as you hear the shower turn on. You slip on one of Jack’s dirty shirts that he left on the bedroom floor the night before and get out of bed yourself, still feeling the remains of the morning’s adventures on your thighs. Maybe, if you’re lucky, you can cut down on Jack’s time to get ready by making his breakfast for him, and he’ll reward you by bending you over the counter. He can never deny you another round when he sees himself dripping out of you so beautifully. That one, if you can swing it, will actually have to be quick.

notes: hi good morning readers yes here i am back again on a monday morning with more smut (i fear... i be thinking about this topic too much). and yet i am running out of things to write about because i do not want to write about the same three actions (a little fingering, a little oral, a little fucking) in every post because i fear that will get old for y'all. MORAL OF THE STORY: SEND REQUESTS! SEND ASKS! SEND COMMENTS ABOUT YOUR FAVORITE PLAYERS AND PEOPLE YOU WANT ME TO WRITE ABOUT! i need help <3 (yes, @johncena2020 i will eventually get to your Mr. Marino. i will.)

#puck-luck's fics #jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes smut #jack hughes x y/n #nhl smut #nhl x reader #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #andy writes anything🍄

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puck-luck · 5 days

Note

Forever yearning for a jealous, dominant Luke Hughes. I mean spitting in your mouth, edging, mirror sex, etc. I need the filthy, down bad luke.

Scenario: maybe you’re becoming close with one of the other players (completely innocent-just forming a friendship) but Luke doesn’t see it as that way…

👉🏻👈🏻

warnings (in no particular order): spit(!!), jealousy, dom!luke, edging, mirror sex, one (1!) slap to the face just for the enjoyment of my friend jo, spanking, drinking (technically underage hiii luke turn 21 already stop being lame), beating yourself up, pet names and nicknames as FUCK (always bro do y’all even know me), road head, face fucking, unprotected p in v, dare i say breeding kink, implied subspace, allusion to size kink (probably established size kink to be fair), I THINK THAT’S IT BUT I’M NOT SURE! pairing: luke hughes x fem!reader summary: the one when luke gets jealous at the bar and doles out a bit of a punishment (code: luke is insecure about his performance on the ice, so when his gf starts talking with another teammate who is her friend, he gets jealous and feels like he has to prove himself by making her feel good, but he’s still a dom bc HOTTTT) wc: 6416

The Devils’ last game of the season was at home this year. There was no chance that they would make the playoffs and Jack was out in Colorado for his shoulder surgery, plus Luke’s parents weren’t able to make it from Michigan for his final rookie game. He was depending on you to be there, so there you were. You were cheering, you were yelling at the officials when they missed a call, you were laughing at Luke when he took a trademarked Hughes spill on the ice with barely anyone around him. Yeah, you were disappointed at the end of the game when the Islanders won (and it wasn’t even close), but it was just one game. It wasn’t the end of the world. It was a disappointment, but it wasn’t life-changing.

Luke, however, was much more upset with their performance when you met up with him after the game. He drove the two of you to the bar where the team was meeting for one last celebration before the off-season and he tried, he really did, to keep his complaints inside. He was stewing, just letting it well up inside of him and fester in the silence between you, until it spilled over.

“It should have been a better game,” Luke finally said, the harsh edge in his tone rubbing you in all the wrong ways. “We could’ve done more. If I had just–”

“Lu, baby,” you interrupted, voice soft. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I was out there the longest, other than Jake,” Luke argued. “They depend on me and I let them down.”

“You were only on the ice for one goal, Lu. You couldn’t have done anything about at least the other three.”

Your statement was not something he wanted to hear. Your boyfriend, sweet as he was, always saw the best in everyone else and the worst in himself. Where he could have been blaming Brendan for the loss, since Brendan was on the ice for three of the four goals, he was instead blaming himself. He was never one to hold a grudge against his teammates or his friends or his family, which was part of the reason why you were so in love with him.

He grunted instead of giving you a real response, but you knew it was coming from a place of knowing you’re right but still feeling hurt.

“I love you,” you told him, just a reminder that his performance would never affect your affection towards him.

“I love you too,” Luke replied, and you two fell back into silence. It was less tense this time, but his shoulders were still tense and he was frowning, almost pouting. He was so pretty, even now, but you hated how this expression marred his face.

When you pulled up to the bar, you were met by Luke’s teammates. While some of the men had gone home after the game, it was mostly the ones who had families. You knew their wives and girlfriends would have encouraged them to go out with the team rather than stay home with the kids, but you understood. If Luke had wanted to go straight home after the game, you would’ve gone with him and cuddled him until you fell asleep.

“Do you want to get out and get me a drink, baby, while I find parking?” Luke asked, always so considerate.

“Yeah,” you agreed easily, leaning over the center console to peck his lips before you left the car.

Waiting outside the entrance of the bar, Nico and John smiled as you got out of the car and walked over to them. You hugged each of them before entering the bar, Nico walking in ahead of you and John following you with a hand on your back.

It didn’t mean anything to you or to John, but when Luke watched John guide you into the bar before he drove away to search for a parking spot, something sharp and green poked at his heart.

Luke finally made his way into the bar about ten minutes after you walked in, and your face had lit up when you saw him like it had been much longer. He didn’t see you at first, so you had the chance to watch him scan the room. His brow was furrowed as he scanned each person’s features. You knew that he was trying to spot you without looking for the other boys at first, but it was proving difficult with how crowded the room had become.

Timo appeared at his side and patted Luke’s shoulder in greeting. Luke talked to him for a minute before Timo pointed your way. Luke’s face split with a smile when he saw you and he gave Timo a pat before beelining towards you.

You looped your arms around Luke’s neck when he joined you, leaning up on your tiptoes to kiss him.

“Gross,” Nico complained from next to you. “It’s only been a few minutes since you’ve seen each other.”

“You’re not in love,” Luke replied, snarky and sarcastic like he tended to be when it wasn’t just the two of you. He then turned to you. “Where’s my drink?”

“What a priority,” you teased, rolling your eyes at him. He pinched your side. “I sent Johnny to go get it.”

Luke’s expression changed for a split second before he schooled his features. You wouldn’t have noticed it if you weren’t so in tune with his emotions, experience that comes only after years of dating a person.

You let it go, knowing that it can’t be too important, or Luke would have said something. He knew you were friends with guys on the team. After being around them for almost a year, having moved out here with Luke at the start of his rookie year, it was bound to happen. Plus, Luke wasn’t the jealous type. He knew that you loved him and you’d love him forever, saying yes in a second if he chose to propose.

But to him, there was something about the way you said “Johnny” instead of John. It was that and John’s hand on your back as he guided you into the bar, on top of an already hard night, that had Luke questioning himself.

“I asked him to get you a rum and coke,” you said, tilting your head up to poke Luke’s nose with your own. “Is that okay?”

“It sounds good, thank you,” Luke replied.

You resume conversation with Nico, turning to face him but staying tucked into Luke’s side. He had a hand on your hip and the other accepted the drink that John handed Luke when he returned. He nursed it quietly for a while, engaging in conversation here and there, but mostly just enjoying his time with his friends.

The game was the last time that his whole team would be together like that, but this night out was the last time that his team, his friends, would be together in the way that mattered. Even if no one was traded, if no one changed in the slightest (except Jack, coming back from injury), things still wouldn’t be quite the same. It wouldn’t be his second year, his presence wouldn’t be new or exciting. He would have to try harder, do better, and be consistent to show that he wasn’t just an example of beginner’s luck.

He clutched you a little tighter to his side at that thought. He was comforted by the way that you melted into him, moving to lean back against his chest. Your hand covered his and the other polished off your drink. He took the empty cup from you and kissed your cheek before pulling away to toss your cup, and his, in the trash can behind him.

When he returned, he was taken aback by the sight before him.

You had stepped forward and were carding your fingers through John’s curls and Luke saw red before he saw the thoughtful look on your face. John had just said to you and Nico that he thought his hair was getting too long, too unruly. You didn’t agree– it was a good length, the curls were just settling into their shapes.

“I don’t think you should cut it, John,” you were saying before Luke grabbed your other wrist and yanked you towards him. “Luke!” You exclaimed, startled by the movement.

“Time to go,” Luke announced, loud enough that the other boys could hear. He clutched your wrist, not your hand, your wrist, and pulled you along as he stomped toward the exit.

“Luke, what is going on?” You asked, voice resounding in your ears like it’s much louder than it actually is.

Luke kept walking like he didn’t even hear you, pushing through the door and leading you down the block to the car. He opened your door for you and helped you in, but he slammed it shut once you were buckled into your seat. He rounded the car and opened his own door, glaring at you in a passing glance before settling into the driver’s seat.

“Lu,” you implored, pressing your hands against the top of your thighs.

When he didn’t reply, you tried again.

“Babe, talk to me–”

“I don’t want you to speak unless you’re spoken to,” Luke said. He refused to look at you. “You think you can touch John’s hair the way you touch mine? You’ll let him guide you into the bar the way I would? I’m not enough for you, huh, baby?”

You blinked, suddenly shifting up to sit a little straighter. Luke, your sweet angel Luke, the baby of his family who would never hurt a fly, who avoided hockey fights at every cost, had flipped his switch.

“Answer me. I asked you a question.”

“No, sir,” you said. Your eyes flickered down to where Luke’s knuckles were white with how hard he was gripping the steering wheel. You inhaled sharply as you made eye contact with the veins decorating the back of his hand.

“No?” Luke repeated, mocking. “I’m not enough for you?”

“No! Lu, you’re more than enough, you know you’re the only one I need.” Your words came out scrambled and you tripped over them.

Luke clicked his tongue, disapproval written all over his face. “Can’t even speak, can you?” He scoffed, reached down with one hand, and popped the button on his jeans. “Let’s put your mouth to a better use until you can find your words.”

“You’re driving,” you pointed out, casting a worried look at the road ahead of you.

“It wasn’t a question,” Luke threw you a glance. He looked back at the road, then back to you, this time holding your gaze. He cocked his head to the side, eyes softening for a moment. “Was it?”

“No,” you breathed out.

“Good girl.” A smile spread over Luke’s face and he turned back to the road. “Get to it.”

You clenched your thighs together and unbuckled your seatbelt so you could twist towards Luke and lean over the center console. You reached out to unzip his pants, but he knocked your hands away.

“I didn’t say use your hand. I said,” he paused, grabbing your hair and tilting your head up so your eyes met his, “Use your mouth.”

The noise that escaped you was involuntary. You moved forward that extra inch and carefully took Luke’s zipper in your mouth, dragging it down. His boxers were revealed by the action, but that was the extent of it.

“Come on,” Luke encouraged, growing impatient. What you couldn’t see from your position was the smug tilt of his mouth, knowing there was no way to get his cock out of his pants with just your mouth. “Take it out.”

“Can’t,” you whimpered.

“Oh, you can’t?” Luke mocked, feigning sympathy. “Poor baby needs my help, yeah?”

You nodded and hummed an agreement.

Luke’s grip tightened on your hair and he gave it a sharp tug. “Use your manners.”

“Please, Lu, help me,” you conceded.

“Help you what?”

“Help me take your cock out so I can suck you, please, sir.” Your voice was close to breaking, you were itching to get your mouth on him and make him feel good.

Luke obliged, revealing himself to you. You opened your mouth and he pumped himself twice just to tease you before slapping the lip of his cock on the flat of your tongue. He fed you his cock, returning his hand to your hair when you had taken as much of his length in your mouth as you could. He gathered your hair into a messy ponytail with his one hand, the other still on the wheel, and began to guide your head up and down.

You gagged when he guided you to his base, nose touching the fabric of his boxers around his cock, but the groan he let out made the discomfort worth it. It was low and desperate, just pure relief.

“Wanna fuck your mouth,” Luke breathed out, pulling you up so just the tip of his cock remained in your mouth.

You hollowed your cheeks and sucked, swiping your tongue over his slit and relishing in the taste of his precum in your mouth.

He moaned aloud, the sound seeming to echo throughout the car. You could feel your heartbeat in your fingertips. You let out a sigh, suddenly overwhelmed with contentment for your situation. Luke was perfect. He was the perfect boyfriend, whether he was his soft and cuddly self or this dominant version of him that wasn’t afraid to tell you what to do, to communicate what he wanted.

“Would if I weren’t driving, too,” Luke mumbled, mostly to himself. “Fuck, baby, make me come. You know how.”

Luke returned both hands to the steering wheel and allowed you to move your head freely, to go at your own pace. You bobbed your head with enthusiasm, spit dripping down his shaft and soaking the fabric around him. You gagged at times, but the tight squeeze of your throat around him just added to Luke’s pleasure. He wasn’t shy about telling you how good you felt, either, making you more determined to make him come.

“Fuck, pull off,” Luke said, his voice a little shaky.

You couldn’t. You couldn’t, not when he was so close. The idea of having his come in your mouth, on your tongue, the manifestation of how you made him feel, was too alluring.

“Y/N, pull off,” Luke commanded, reaching down to yank you off of him by your hair. He clenched his jaw as he held you just far enough off his cock that you thought, with just one bump in the road, you could capture it again. He steered out of the lane and parked on the side of the road. “You don’t want to listen? You’re so cockdumb that you can’t follow my orders?”

All you could do was look at him, eyes wide.

He spoke through his teeth, never once blinking or breaking eye contact. “Since you want me inside you so bad, I’m gonna fuck your mouth until I come. You’re gonna take it. Even if you gag, even if you cry, I’m not going to stop until I come. Then, you’re going to sit back and buckle yourself in and I’m going to finish driving us home. You will not swallow. You’re going to hold my come in your mouth until I say so. Do you understand?”

Your jaw dropped at the words, the tips of your ears growing hot. “Yes, sir.” It’s nearly inaudible and you can feel your panties growing damper with just the thought of it– minute after minute ticking by, Luke’s come coating your tongue, not being able to speak or swallow. You’re completely under Luke’s control.

He leaned back in the seat and motioned toward his cock.

You allowed him to guide you onto his length again, getting comfortable with its size. You hollowed your cheeks and looked up at him, pausing your movements and staying statue-still.

A smirk took over Luke’s face. “That’s my girl.”

He took your head with both hands, keeping your hair out of your face and keeping you from moving an inch, and began to thrust into your mouth. It was sharp and hard and you tried to create a vacuum-type suction around his cock, as tight as you knew he liked it, but it was hard with the head of his dick hitting the back of your throat with every buck of his hips. You ended up gagging, and crying, and drooling all over his cock, just like Luke had said, and he fulfilled his promise that he wouldn’t stop.

“Look at you, making such a mess of yourself,” Luke scoffed. “Such a mess all over my cock, just to make me feel good. You’d let me do whatever I wanted, wouldn’t you, baby? You’d never let anyone else take you like this, just me, yeah? No one else gets to see you just leaking all over my cock because you’re mine.”

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head at that and the moan you released around Luke’s length caused his hips to stutter, made him unable to hold back his orgasm any longer. He came in stripes all over your tongue, some of it leaking down the back of your throat before you could stop it. He pulled you off of him and crashed his lips against yours, a close-mouthed kiss because you wouldn’t dare disobey, couldn’t handle the idea of disappointing Luke.

“My good girl,” Luke cooed when he pulled away.

You offered him a lazy smile, head foggy and bones mushy. You were sated, an elevated version of just happy, and so, so comfortable. You loved him. He was everything.

“I’m not done with you yet, am I?” Luke asked softly, thumbing over your bottom lip.

You shook your head.

“Open,” Luke said. “I want to see my come on your tongue.”

You hesitantly opened your mouth, pushing your tongue out so he could see the milky white substance coating the muscle.

Luke captured your cheeks with one hand and leaned in with the other holding your head in place. You stared at his eyes, which were watching your tongue as a line of his saliva mixed with the come in your mouth. When his eyes rose to meet yours, it was the embers of desire that made your head roll back and the instinct, the pure instinct of having something in your mouth, that caused you to swallow.

Your head snapped forward, eyes wide and not doe-eyed, not purposefully innocent to make Luke’s heart jump. No, your eyes were wide with worry because you disobeyed him. It wasn’t something you did to spite him or push him further over the line.

“I’m sorry.” The words leaked from your mouth and you scrambled to take Luke’s hand in yours, clutching his right with both of yours. “Luke, it was an accident, you know I’d never–”

His mouth was open in shock, briefly, before it snapped shut and his eyes twinkled with something downright predatory. His hand was limp in yours (though not pulling away) and he was still.

“But you did,” He interrupted. “You did.”

“I didn’t mean to.” You were trying to reason with him, but you knew the damage was done. Whatever he had planned for you when you got back to the house, it was going to be ten times worse now.

Luke just shook his head and removed his hand from your grasp, pulling back onto the highway and resuming the drive home. You weren’t far, the area around you looking more and more familiar with each passing second. The minutes stretched for what seemed like hours with Luke’s silence. You held your own hand nervously, pinching at the skin of you knuckles and avoiding Luke’s face. You couldn’t handle seeing the disappointment etched into his features.

Luke pulled into the garage of the apartment complex after just about five minutes. Suddenly, it hits you– you have the apartment all to yourselves tonight. There’s nothing to stop Luke, or you for that matter, from being as loud or as public as he wants. There’s a window in the living room, one that Luke mentioned after your last session. A spark traveled up your spine when you realize that tonight might be the night that he fucks you out in the open, for anyone to see.

When he shifted the car into park, Luke turned to you expectantly.

You apologized again, softly, once he looked at you.

His features softened then, seeing your apprehension. He reached out and took your hand. “Are you okay?”

“I feel bad that I didn’t listen,” you replied. Your eyes fell on your shoelaces, which were an off-white color after plenty of use. You made a note to yourself that maybe you should wash them soon. You wondered if they’d return to their original color. The shoes were much more interesting than looking up at Luke and meeting his eyes.

He tilted your head upward with a guided hand anyway. “You’re still my good girl,” he reassured. “Are you okay to keep going? Or do you want me to stop? I won’t be mad. Whatever you want, we can do it. We can leave this in the car and I can take care of you, baby.”

You could cry at his words, how great he is about your slip-up. You did want him to be sweet, but you knew that he needed this. He needed to work through whatever was going on in his mind and if he could just be in control of this, just for a little while longer, it would be so much easier for him later.

“I want to keep going,” you admitted.

“You know your word?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Tell me?”

“Flower.”

“That’s right, baby.” Luke pecked your lips, but when he pulled back he was back to business. “Now, are you ready to listen to me?”

You nodded, eyes trained on his. Neither of you blinked, a silent contest that he ended up losing (something that would normally cause you to gloat, but now doesn’t seem like the right time).

“When you get to the apartment, you’re going to strip. You’re going to sit on the edge of our bed. You’re going to touch yourself while you wait for me and I want you to watch yourself in the mirror. If you come, and you know I’ll know if you do, you’re not going to come at all tonight. I want you to bring yourself right to the edge and stay there. Can you do that for me?” He spoke slowly and clearly, his voice gravely and dominant. He didn’t stumble over his words or pause and “um” like he did in interviews. No, this was when Luke was at his surest. This was when he knew exactly what to do, exactly what to say.

“I can do that,” you agreed, unbuckling your seatbelt and gathering your things.

“I’m going to give you a five minute head start.”

You nodded at Luke, opened your door, and left the vehicle. When you got up to the apartment, you didn’t bother to hang your coat or purse on the hooks Luke put up just for you. You didn’t put your shoes neatly like the door like you normally did. Instead, you dropped your belongings and kicked the shoes off one by one on your walk to the bedroom. You shed your clothing in a similar manner, leaving a trail behind for Luke to chuckle at when he walked in the door.

Fully naked, you stared at yourself in the mirror that faced your bed. You read once that it was bad luck to have a mirror face a bed, that your reflection could like… capture your soul, or something, but you kept the mirror there anyway because if there was anything Luke enjoyed, it was seeing himself fuck you in the mirror. He liked to watch you ride him in reverse cowgirl, so he could see your ass jiggle as you bounced on his cock with his own eyes and your whole body in the reflection.

Sometimes, his hands would drift up and he would hold your tits, watching how he could envelop them in his palms. You tilt your head to the side, watching your own hands slide up your body to do the same.

For everything you could imagine Luke doing, there your hands were trying to satisfy yourself. If you closed your eyes, you could convince yourself that it was him instead.

His cock would disappear into your pussy, thrusting in and out and causing you to whine. His fingers would circle your clit or pinch your nipples. He would palm your ass, or reach up to wrap his hand around your neck. He would reach just that spot…

You didn’t ever hear it when Luke opened the door and joined you in the room. He thought you knew he was coming, with the way you were whining his name and begging for him. Your eyes snapped open as he closed the door behind him and you quickly pulled your fingers out from inside of you.

Luke walked over to you and sank onto his knees between your legs. “Gimme a taste, love.”

You offered him your fingers, which he took into his mouth. He sucked on them softly for far too short a time, in your opinion, with the way his cheekbones became more prominent as he cleaned your fingers of your wetness.

“Tastes good,” he told you with a smile when he was finished.

“Thank you,” you replied, practically a whimper. Your chest felt tight, like someone was squeezing your heart in your chest. You were waiting, just waiting, for Luke to tell you what was next.

He rose to sit on the bed next to you, guiding you to shift over so you were sitting on his lap. “I’m going to spank you,” he whispered against your lips. “Just ten times. That’s all. It’ll go fast, but I’m not going to go easy on you. I know you can take it.” Luke kissed you again, snuck his tongue into your mouth for a quick, far too quick pass, before pulling back. “Turn over, baby, and lean over my knee, yeah?”

Your movements were slow, your brain turning foggy again like it was in the car. Luke helped you over his knee, still clothed. The contrast between how clothed he was and how naked you were almost made you drool. It was nearly embarrassing, being this down bad for Luke when he seemed to be completely fine, unaffected.

Luke snapped you out of your thoughts with a spank. The pain was only there for a split second before Luke was rubbing soothing circles over your skin. You shivered when he dipped his hand lower and trailed a finger through your folds.

“So wet,” he murmured.

You clenched down and he pulled away, only to deliver a second slap to your cheek. You shivered, goosebumps rising over your arms.

“So, baby, tell me,” Luke began, bringing down his hand again. “Why am I spanking you?” He waited for you to answer before bringing his hand down again. “Because I swallowed– oh– when you told me not to.”

“Mhm. Why else?”

Another spank. Now, it was starting to sting. Your ass had turned a pretty shade of pink that caused Luke to bite his lip and run his hands over your skin, feeling the heat radiate off the surface.

You were quiet. You weren’t quite sure. Holding his come in your mouth had been the punishment for not pulling off when he told you to. You had been slow to say please in the car, but that wasn’t ever something Luke would punish you for, just something he’d remind you to do. “For, um…” You trailed off, not sure what to say.

Luke scoffed and spanked you three times, harsh enough that his handprint stayed imprinted on your body for longer than it normally did when he spanked you. You cried out, your head dropping and tears welling up in your eyes.

“‘For, um,’” he mocked. “You don’t know? You’re that fucking dumb that you can’t remember what happened less than an hour ago?”

“Lu, please,” were the words that escaped your mouth instead of an answer to his question. They were teary and he almost stopped, almost, just because of how your voice shook.

“Please what?” He spat, another slap echoing throughout the room.

“I don’t know,” You sobbed. “I don’t know why you’re mad at me.”

“Five more,” Luke warned you and you nodded.

It took a lot out of you, agreeing for five more, but Luke wouldn’t do anything he didn’t think you could handle.

“How about this, baby?” Luke said. Slap. “For touching John’s hair the same way you touch mine?” Slap. “For letting the boys guide you into the restaurant like you’re their girlfriend, not mine.” Slap. “For sending John off to get me a drink when I told you to do so?” Slap. “For not listening?” Slap. “For being a fucking brat?”

You wailed, slumped against Luke. He got a good look at you in the mirror, boneless over his knee. He took in the red skin of your ass, tracing the line of his raised handprint.

“You’re mine,” Luke continued, sounding off. You turned your head towards the mirror, eyes hazy but still able to make him out. He was waiting for you to look at him, for your eyes to meet his. “You can’t– you can’t treat him like he’s special.”

And suddenly, it all clicked. Luke was jealous because he was scared of the same thing you’d skated around in your conversation right after the game. Luke wanted to be special, wanted you to see him and need him. He needed you to need him, to let him take control and take care of you and decide things for you, all because he didn’t want to be the person who lost everything because he wasn’t good enough. Even the idea that John could possibly take Luke’s place, as preposterous as it was to you, sent Luke into a spiral.

“Fuck me, Luke,” you said, voice shaky and light because of the headspace you were in. “Take me. I’m yours. Prove it.”

Gently, so gently in contrast to his prior actions, Luke helped you up and lay you down on your back on the bed, placing a pillow under your hips. You lay there for a few minutes, blinking slowly and watching as Luke shed his clothes and rummaged through his dresser drawers for something. His back was to you and you smiled to yourself, too fucked out to let out a giggle, at his backside. When Luke turned around, two of his gameday ties in hand, he cocked his head to the side at your smile.

“What are you smiling about?” He asked.

“Boy butts are so funny,” You answered. “They’re just so small. Like… where are your hips, Lu?”

Luke blinked a few times, then shook his head. “Oh my God, you’ve lost it.”

“I’ve been thinking it. We need to get you in the gym.”

“You’re being a brat.”

“And your butt is small.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Luke scoffed. He had walked to the bed and was tying one of your hands to his headboard.

“I’m waiting.”

Luke huffed out a laugh at your response. “You’re making it hard to dom you, baby.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, was the road head not enough?”

Luke shushed you, moving to your other hand and tying that one with the other tie.

“What about the spitting in my mouth and spanking me?” You continue, goading him.

Luke crawled up your body, kissing up your stomach and chest and neck as he went.

One more sentence, and he wouldn’t find it so difficult to dominate you for this final stretch.

He’s hovering over your lips, his breath fanning out over them.

“I bet Johnny could do it better.”

Luke pulled back, jaw dropped. His mouth returned to a strait line and his eyes turned murderous. There it was, there’s the dominance that he thought he lost.

You smirked at him, proud of yourself for the comment you made, until Luke’s palm made contact with your cheek. Your head turned with the impact and you swore your heart stopped. You were too surprised to say anything. As the seconds of silence passed where you and Luke just stared at each other, same shocked expression on your face, you realized: huh. That’s not so different from when he spanks me.

Then, another second after that: That was kind of… hot.

“Are you okay?” Luke breathed out. He’s practically frozen in place.

“Yeah,” you replied. “Oh my God, Luke, yeah.” You pulled on the restraints above you, itching to get him inside of you. You circled your legs around his waist and raised your hips, trying to make contact with him. “Fuck, Lu, that was so hot, please fuck me.”

Luke blinked twice and searched your face for any discomfort, anything that would show him that you were upset or hurt by his slap. He hadn’t even done it intentionally, just driven by the pure rage of you mentioning John, saying that John could be better for you than Luke was.

It wasn’t until your wiggling hips caused his cock to make contact with your weeping pussy that he began to move.

He started by pinning your hips down.

“Greedy,” he chastised.

“I need you in me, don’t treat me like I’m made of glass,” you whined.

Luke positioned himself at your entrance and snapped his hips forward, burying himself inside you in one fell swoop.

It knocked all the breath out of you. Even after dating Luke for ages, his size still surprised you.

“How’s that, huh? Can you feel me? Do you think I’m treating you gently?” Luke asked, grinding his teeth as he fucked in and out of you. His skin was slapping against yours and he moved one of our legs so your knee was thrown over his shoulder. “You think Marino could fuck you like this?” He practically spat out John’s name, disgust coating each syllable.

“Probably,” you quipped, your voice snarky. You were itching for Luke to slap you again, or something, because he wasn’t giving it everything. He was still shaken up by the fact that he hit you at all.

“‘Probably,’” He repeated, incredulous. “You’ll never know, will you, baby?” He snaps his hips harder, faster. “This is my pussy. It only gets wet for me, you only spread your legs for me, you can be a slut all you want but only in the confines of these four walls. You can be bad, only right here… where I’m able to fuck. it. out. of you.”

You moan, wanton and long in the back of your throat. Your hands are aching to grab his hair, to twist the curls between your fingers. “Lu, my hand,” you told him.

“What about it?” He asked, not slowing his pace.

“Untie it, please!”

Luke looked down at you, confused. “Why?”

You whined, keening as your back arched and you squeezed his cock. “Need to get a hand on you, Lu, fuck. Wanna pull your hair. So pretty, so much prettier than John’s.”

“Oh,” he whispered, his stomach turning. He reached up to undo the knot, trying to continue to fuck you and untie it at the same time. When your hand came free, it immediately found purchase in his curls. Your fingernails scraped his scalp and his eyes rolled in the back of his head as he bucked into you with uncoordinated thrusts. “Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned. “Gonna make me come.”

“Please,” you begged. “Inside me, inside me–”

Your vision went white and your pussy was like a vice around him as you came.

“Yeah, yeah,” Luke agreed, voice strained. He watched the bliss wash over your features and whined. “Fuck you til you’re full, show everyone you’re all mine.”

It’s the thought of pumping his seed into you, making you round with his child, that sends Luke over the edge. No one would think to take you from him then, not that you’d ever go. No one would ever be able to call you theirs like he could call you his, not when he’s fucked you full, not when you’re carrying his baby.

“So perfect for me,” Luke mumbled in your ear, collapsing on top of you as he came down from his orgasm.

“Just for you, Lu.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You paused, rubbing his back. “You know we have to talk about this, right? You’re more than enough and I don’t want you to feel insecure anymore.”

Luke pulled himself out of you, wincing at the sensitivity. “Can we talk about it tomorrow? I think we could both use some rest.”

He got up from the bed and walked into his bathroom, grabbing a towel and coming back to wipe you clean.

“Can it wait that long?” You fixed him with a look of concern.

“Baby.” Luke cut his eyes at you, then finished wiping you down. “It can wait until tomorrow.”

You shrugged. “Okay,” you agreed, then made yourself comfortable, pulling the covers over your body. You turned over, back to Luke, and spoke like it was an afterthought. “I loved it when you slapped me, you know.”

Luke groaned, leaned over to give you a kiss on your cheek. “I’m sorry I was mean.”

“Mmm, mean Luke gets me hot just like sweet Luke,” you replied. You turned your head and kissed his lips. “I like sweet Luke more, though. Sweet Luke cuddles me while I’m asleep.”

Luke laughed, going to toss the dirty towel in the dirty clothes hamper. “Sweet Luke will be back to cuddle you after he brushes his teeth,” he said.

When he returned, your breath was even and you had already fallen asleep, the ghost of a smile still gracing your lips. Luke bit his tongue, joined you under the covers, and threw his arm over the curve of your waist. Within just a few minutes, he was fast asleep next to you, softly snoring with his nose pressed into your hair.

notes: so, I, uh..... got a little carried away. I just kept having ideas. And I hope it worked out for me, to be fair. Hiiiiiii anon I hope this was good for youuuu love you bigggg I felt so awky-tawky writing some of this because as much as I would looooove a man to treat me like this, it feels so silly to write. Anyway. Loving y'all.

SEND MORE REQUESTS! I'LL GET TO THEM EVENTUALLY (they might not all be this long LOLLL)

#puck-luck's fics #luke hughes #luke hughes smut #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes x y/n #nhl smut #nhl x reader #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #lh43 #andy writes anything🍄

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puck-luck · 18 days

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horror movies & puppy dog eyes | nico hischier

warnings: use of y/n, oral (m receiving), use of pet names, telling your crush/roommate you like them (very scary, but it goes well here!), begging (ish? Nico is giving sub in this), spelling of cum as come because i think "cum" looks ugly pairing: nico hischier x reader summary: the one when you and nico get a little too close on the couch, the tension between you finally breaks and you tell (& show) each other how you feel. wc: 2511

You’d known Nico for years, having met him while out for a jog back in the preseason of his rookie year for the Devils. It was one of those serendipitous moments when you were in a rare fitness mood and you happened to bump into a cute boy in one of the parks about a mile away from your apartment. You’d stopped running by then and slowed your pace to enjoy the scenery from a bench to catch your breath. Nico, being the precious angel he is, had stumbled and almost fallen right in front of you. You laughed, he blushed, you introduced yourself, and he gave you his number by the end of the conversation.

You two hadn’t become friends right away, considering how busy he was with his rookie year. They made the playoffs that year, but lost early on. It was the postseason after Nico’s rookie year when you two got close, hanging out when he was in Jersey and texting and calling each other when he wasn’t. When you told him you were looking for a new place to live because you were tired of your old roommate, he offered you his spare bedroom. It was in that apartment that you started watching the Devils because of Nico and it became a habit. You liked that you could talk to him about his game and he would explain things to you that you didn’t understand.

When he was named captain in 2021, things started to change between you two. It was the first time that the line started to blur between friendship and romance. You had popped a bottle of champagne as he walked through the door, you’d hung streamers from the ceiling, and you’d blown up a few balloons that were littered along the entryway. Nico was tired and you could tell, but when he saw you cheering for him with an overflowing bottle of champagne, he’d never felt so alive. The thing is, even as big of a rush as it was, you and Nico ended up cuddling on the couch into the early morning. He had a game in Washington the next day, which they lost, probably in part because of how late you had kept him up. You both knew better, but with Nico’s head on your chest and your fingers in his hair, it was too comfortable to move. You two fell asleep right there and woke up entangled. Even now, years later, that night leaves butterflies in your stomach.

You had never acted on your feelings for Nico and he had never made any move on you. After living together for almost five years, you two had fallen into an easy routine and romance would only mess that up.

Sometimes, though, like today, it was really hard to keep yourself off of Nico.

His eyes were just so brown today, his hair was falling in his eyes just right, his dimples were showing when he smiled (with his pearly whites!) at you, his accent was peeking out more than you were used to, and you only noticed all of this once you had stumbled into the kitchen for coffee and he had returned from his early workout. He was all sweaty and muscular and you were staring, of course you were. Look at him. You couldn’t help it.

You weren’t the only one, to be fair. When you had stumbled into the kitchen rubbing sleep out of your eyes, you were wearing one of Nico’s old shirts and your underwear. He was used to it, but the shirt had his number on the shoulder, and something squeezed at his heart when he saw you walking around with his number on, like you were really his. The sleepy smile you gave him after he sat you down at the counter and poured coffee for you was like a gift, too.

“What are you up to today?” Nico asked, pouring himself a cup of coffee as well. He blew on the hot surface of the liquid before taking a sip and burned his tongue anyway, but shook it off.

You hummed, shrugging noncommittally. “I’m working from home today, then we can hang out. Watch a movie?”

“Movie would be nice,” Nico replies. “Anything you’d like to see?”

“You pick,” you tell him. “I’m going to go hole up in my room for a bit. I’ll see you over work, okay? Take a break around noon for lunch. Will you be here?”

“I’m going to the rink in an hour or so. I’m meeting with some of the guys to run some extra drills and watch film. I’ll have whatever they have in catering.”

“Okay.” You hop down from your seat at the counter, walk around to grab a granola bar from the cabinet behind Nico. He places a hand on your other arm as you reach around him out of instinct, not intent, but he purposefully lets it linger a second longer than necessary. You press your lips together to keep any noise you might make inside of you and pull away.

“Later?” Nico asks again, voice soft. His eyes are imploring and, if you’re not mistaken, a little heated.

The spot where his hand had rested almost burns with the lack of touch. “Later,” you agree, and because he’s not the only one that can make someone feel like they’re burning up, you lean up and brush your lips over his cheek.

It leaves a small smile on his face and you don’t look back as you walk away.

After work, Nico cooks dinner for the two of you and you settle on the couch, rubbing your eyes out of exhaustion. You’d been staring at your computer screen all day, ironing out details of the latest project your boss had assigned you. It was tiresome and your eyes felt like they had been way overworked. It’s only a matter of time after this movie starts that you fall asleep.

Nico presents you with your plate and set his own on the coffee table, heading back to the kitchen to fetch your drinks. You weren’t overindulging, but Nico had picked out a red wine that paired nicely with the meal he had prepared, and you were always down for a drink and a movie.

Unfortunately, it was like Nico had something out for you, because he decided he wanted to watch a horror movie tonight. You were bundled up on the couch, eating your food, when he turned on a movie he knew you wouldn’t like, but you had told him he could choose… so you were stuck with it.

It was more of a psychological horror than one that relied on cheap scares and you really tried not to pay attention because you knew the movie would freak you out if you let it. Instead, you decide to focus on Nico.

He's barely reacting to the horror movie, just watching it with a straight face that occasionally turns inquisitive. His hand rests on the back of the couch behind you, so close to being around you. You're just so aware of him at all times. His presence is so commanding. You bite the inside of your cheek as you sneak a glance at him, focusing on the skin of his thigh that is revealed by his gym shorts.

He catches you staring once you didn’t jump at one of the very few scares in the movie.

“What are you looking at?” Nico asks, bringing his arm down to wipe at his thigh, assuming he had dropped some crumbs on it or something and not noticed.

You shake yourself out of it. “Zoned out, I guess.”

Nico cuts his eyes at you, but lets it go.

After a few more minutes, you find your eyes drifting back to Nico’s lower half. He shifts down on the couch and rests one of his heels on the coffee table, the other still on the floor. His legs were spread deliciously wide in typical man behavior and normally you’d roll your eyes, but something about it today made your stomach turn. Your eyes grow wider when Nico reaches around and puts his arm around your shoulders instead of the back of the couch.

“You okay?” He asks, pulling you closer to his side and giving you a little squeeze.

“Distracted,” you reply. You rub at your eyes for emphasis. “Tired.”

“Poor girl.” Nico rubs your arm and presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Anything I can do to help?”

“Just give me a hug,” you say softly, cozying up to him. You wrap your arms around his middle and rest your head right on his chest. You can hear his heartbeat, strong and solid. You close your eyes and focus on that, the beat of it tiring you and lulling you into that weird in-between state of not-quite consciousness and not-quite sleep. Nico’s arm is solid around you and he smells good, manly.

You sigh, throwing a leg over his thigh. He places his other hand on the curve of your knee and pulls your leg higher.

“Y/N,” Nico murmurs quietly.

“Nico,” you reply in the same tone, opening your eyes and looking up at him.

He looks tormented.

You push back from him, but he keeps a harsh grip on your thigh to keep you from getting any distance from him. “What?” You demand, hands on his chest. The concern on your face leaks into your voice. “Are you okay?”

“No,” he whispers.

“What? What’s wrong?” You squirm away from him. “Did I do something?”

This time, Nico stays silent for just a moment too long. You look over him, trying to get some clue as to why you’ve upset him. His hands are resting on his lap and you’ve seen this move before, so your eyes linger before you look up at him.

His cheeks and the tips of his ears are burning red. “I’m sorry.” The words rush out of him in one fell swoop. “I know we’re just friends, I just didn’t mean…”

“Nico,” you interrupt, but can’t find any other words. You stare at each other, nothing but the stillness of your breath between you.

“Please.” He deflates as the word leaves him.

“Nico,” you repeat. You shift closer to him and move his hands from his lap, getting an eyeful of his bulge. When your eyes return to his face, he’s blushing even more than before, but his expression is less grave. It’s more hopeful.

“Is this…?” He asks, reaching out to touch you, but pulling back at the last second.

“Yes,” you answer, settling yourself in his lap and leaning in until your lips just barely brush against his. “If you want it.”

His breath catches. “Need it,” he admits, voice breaking. “Needed you since– God, forever.”

“Me too.”

His eyes search your face, brown and bright and pure, and he leans forward that last millimeter until you’re kissing. His lips slide over yours softly, like he’s mapping out every curve and memorizing it in case he never gets the chance to kiss you again.

You pull away and kiss over his features– a kiss to his nose, to his temples, to his forehead, to his cheeks, his eyebrows, the corners of his lips. When you sink lower to his jaw, feeling the stubble against your skin, it’s like the dam breaks.

“Thought about this so much, all the time,” Nico admits, breathless as you continue to kiss him and grind down slowly on his lap. His hands find your ass and he clutches at you. “Dreamt of it.”

“What did you dream about?” You mumble against his Adam’s apple, running your hands along the ridges of his abs. “Tell me, Neeks.”

“Fucked my hand so many times thinking about your mouth, Y/N,” he says. “Worried you’d hear me saying your name from across the hall.”

“I wish I had,” you slide off the couch until you’re between his thighs. You rub over the downy hair on his thighs, the same hair that caught your attention tonight in the first place. “I would’ve come over and shown you that the real thing was better than your imagination.”

He lets out a loud moan at that, reaching down to brush your hair out of your face. He looks down at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. His puppy-dog eyes never leave you, as if he’s worried you’ll disappear if he blinks for a second. He lifts his hips and you shimmy his shorts and boxers down at the same time to reveal his cock.

Your hand circles the base of his length and you take the tip in your mouth, sucking lightly until his hips buck up with pleasure. You pull off and kiss his slit, licking the precum up when it bubbles out. His cock jumps when you trace the vein on the underside with the tip of your tongue and cup his balls.

You blink up at him and bite your bottom lip coyly. “Tastes good, Neek.”

“Baby,” he whimpers. He lifts his hips. “Don’t tease.”

“Sorry, love,” you apologize. “Let me make you feel good.”

You lower your mouth onto his cock again, bobbing your head and working the bit that you can’t fit into his mouth. He tries to keep himself still, but he can only do so much until he’s bucking up into your mouth and chasing his orgasm like a man starved. You let him thrust up, loving the sounds he’s making.

He moans and whines the way you imagined he would, still in the habit of trying to keep quiet so that he doesn’t alarm his roommate. You’ll tell him after that it’s okay, especially now that you know how he feels and he knows how you feel. You’ll talk about it more after, you know you will, but right now, you just want to make him come.

You pull off and wrap your hand around his cock, pumping him at a fast pace. “Gonna come, Nico?”

“Uh huh,” he groans, his hips stuttering as it becomes too much for him. “Y/N, I–” He cuts himself off with a strangled moan as he shoots off, his seed spilling over your hand and onto his stomach.

You let him breathe for a minute, catch his breath. When he opens his eyes, he catches you licking the come off your hand. His cock gives a halfhearted twitch, but he can’t go again quite yet. Plus, his mind is turning with all the ways he imagined getting you off. He had dreamt of so many things he could do to you, but his favorite fantasy involved repaying the favor: getting his mouth on you.

Nico pulls you up from where you sit and lays you down on the couch, spreading your legs. “I love you,” he whispers and presses a kiss to your thigh. “Do you love me?”

“Of course I love you, Nico.”

notes: here we go again, readers. in my own personal headcanon, nico is just a sweetie pie who needs some lovin from his girl (my man, my man, thank you to my man). once again, blessings to @johncena2020 for reading the fic before it was posted on her lunch break & helping me with a title. ONCE AGAIN, thank you to wheelofnames.com for picking which boy i wrote about today. originally, you chose trevor (i can't blame you), but two trevs in one day is wild for a new blog. waiting for the day the spinner wheel chooses quinn and i indulge in writing some of my favorite things (to be revealed). also, where are all the new fics? what am i supposed to read during my 9-5? the stuff i've already read? blahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. loving you guys. xo! <3

#puck-luck's fics #nico hischier #nico hischer x reader #nico hischier x reader #nhl smut #nhl x reader #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #andy writes anything🍄

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puck-luck · 13 days

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one bed trope by design | dawson mercer

warnings: fwb but unspokenly more, eldest daughter vibes in the first paragraph, teasing & annoying your partner, pet names, oral (fem!receiving), fingering, heavyyyy making out, dirty talk (it’s pretty sweet, actually), possessive!dawson, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, cockwarming, whimpering man (slay), begging (only a little), mentions/allusions to consensual somnophilia, and a little bit of a fixation on spit (as i am wont to do) pairing: dawson mercer x reader summary: the one when dawson comes over to build a bedframe for your guest room, demands multiple rewards, and pouts when you try to make him test it out alone. he ends up getting everything he wanted, though. wc: 4636

You have a bone to pick with anyone who writes furniture-building instruction manuals. After all the years of “building things” (holding flashlights, standing aimlessly for support, fetching beers) with your dad, you would think that you’d be able to build a bedframe. You would think that you could read the directions, screw in some nails, glue some pegs into place, and your guest room would be all set. In another world, you’re flying through this process and the bed’s already done. Here, in this world, the real world, all you’ve done is sort all of your supplies and read the first page of directions and it’s been shit. The wording is unclear, the pictures don’t make any sense, the bags of supplies aren’t clearly labeled in conjunction with the guide in the manual, and you’re at your wits end.

So you call Daws.

Your best friend in the world, Dawson Mercer, has always been skilled with his hands. Never mind the double entendre, you’ve seen how deftly Daws can handle a stick and a puck, so he is surely able to handle a screwdriver and a drill.

In fact, continuing with the entendres, you know Dawson can handle a drill. On top of being your best friend in the world, you two had started hooking up in his second season at New Jersey, after you’d gotten a job in New York City and relocated. With just thirty minutes between you two and a lot of pent up feelings on both sides, it was only a matter of time until one of you broke and jumped the other. It ended up being him, but it was your fault.

It was a late night and you’d been up working on a proposal for your boss. It was well past midnight and you had work the following day, but you were in a groove and you couldn’t stop until the task was done. It had already been a tough day and you started to feel better when your work began to flow, but then you forgot a word and could not find it no matter what thesaurus you used or what questions you googled. You knew it was the perfect word for this proposal and it sounded so intelligent in your head, but you could not fucking remember it. It might’ve been the sleep deprivation of it all, but this sent you over the edge and before you knew it, you were calling Dawson and tearfully explaining your situation. He couldn’t understand you through the hysteria and was at your door as soon as possible, scooping you up and taking your computer away. You had explained everything again through your tears and he had held you in his arms, tucking your head away in his neck so you could hide from the world. When your breath evened out, Daws had registered the flutter of your eyelashes against his pulse and couldn’t stop himself from kissing you. It had been sweet and it was a long time coming. Things escalated that night about as far as you could go for the first time, with Dawson treating you like something that would break if he held you too tightly or looked at you too long. You both were shy but cared so much for each other that it just felt right.

You hadn’t defined it in the year since, but you know and Dawson knows that there is something special between you. You’re best friends and maybe, one day, you’d both be ready to commit to more.

For now, though, Dawson is the guy who’s going to sit in your guest bedroom and build your guest bed and maybe you’ll repay him if you felt like it.

Dawson comes over as soon as you call and walks into your apartment sopping wet. When he walks into your space, he shakes like a wet dog and you shriek. He gives you a toothy grin, your heart fluttering with fondness like it always does when you see the space between his teeth. “It’s raining out there,” he says unnecessarily, walking over to plant a quick kiss on your lips. “Where’s this bed you need your big, strong man to build, baby?”

You scoff and roll your eyes. “Big, strong man,” you mock. “Where’s that guy? I don’t see a big, strong man here.”

Daws pinches your hip for your comment, but it doesn’t really hurt.

“I’m turning my office into a guest bedroom,” you continue. You lean up and give Daws another little peck. “The bed is in there.” You reach around and give him a pat on the butt. “Go on, get in there.”

“You’re not going to help me?” Dawson calls over his shoulder, teasing you as he walks down the hall towards his daunting task.

“Darling, you’ll just get distracted by me,” you reply. “I’ll be in here if you need me.” You take a seat on your couch and pick up the book you’ve been reading. You drape a blanket over your legs and lean back against the arm of the sofa, finding your bookmark and opening the book to that page.

You can hear the rain growing heavier as you continue to read, as well as the sounds of Dawson putting the new bedframe together. He’s making quick work of it and takes a break at his self-proclaimed halfway point. He wanders into the living room and washes his hands in your kitchen sink before joining you on the couch. He sneaks under the blanket and lays between your legs, resting his head on your stomach. His hand reaches up, comes out from under the blanket, and rests on your chest. He palms your breast, just holding the weight of it in his hand. You place your bookmark and close your book, setting it down on the coffee table to your left. You lift the blanket and make eye contact with Dawson. You can’t help but think of your friend’s cat from university, who used to cuddle on your lap under the blanket just like this.

“Hi,” Dawson greets, smiling wide.

“Hi, sweet,” you reply and card your fingers through his hair, pushing it out of his face. “Have you given up on that bed yet? It’s impossible, isn’t it?”

“Mmm, no,” Dawson hums, purring like your friend’s cat used to when you pet him. He pushes into your hand just the same. “Just taking a break with my favorite girl.”

“Sweet talker,” you tease. Your hand moves to pinch his cheek like a grandmother would. “You’re trying to get in good with me, huh?”

“You always assume I’ve got an ulterior motive,” Dawson complains. “Maybe I just want to hang out with you.”

You give him an unimpressed look with a tilt of your head.

Dawson snickers quietly, burying his head in your stomach. “No, you’re right.” He kisses your tummy, just next to your belly button. “I always have an ulterior motive.”

You spread your legs a little wider, allowing Dawson to fit his shoulders between your thighs comfortably. “What do you have in mind?”

“A snack,” Dawson replies in a cheeky voice, the smirk evident in his tone before he ghosts a fingertip under the hemline of your sleep shorts.

Because you’re a brat, you twist away from Daws. You move to get up from the couch. “Shall I make you something?” You ask.

Daws holds you down with his full weight, wrapping his arms around you until you’re effectively immobilized. You can’t see him anymore, having dropped the blanket when you moved to get up. “No,” he whines, drawing out the word and pulling you to him. He bites the side of your hip gently through your shorts. “Stay here, you’ve got what I need.”

“What you need,” you repeat, smiling to yourself. This is the side of Dawson that rarely anyone gets to see, even though he’s a happy-go-lucky guy most of the time. No one gets to see Dawson all whiny and eager to please, happy to get himself off by just getting his mouth on you. He’s sated like this, happy to stay between your legs for hours and make you come time after time, until you’re oversensitive and pushing him away. You’re happy to let him indulge most of the time, but that bed is still only halfway built. “Can you make it quick?” You ask. “Need you to finish building that bed for me.”

Dawson presses a kiss to your core, making you shiver. He hums in agreement. “Can we christen it after I’m done?”

You giggle and swat the back of his head under the blanket. “You wish.”

Dawson hooks his fingers in the waistband of your shorts and drags them down, removing them delicately and placing them on the ground next to him. He kisses down your leg as he does it and it’s even more arousing than it normally is, given that you can’t see him under the blanket and can barely guess his next move. “I do wish,” he agrees before moving onto your panties. “Can I earn it?”

“You can sleep in there by yourself and let me know how it is, since all my guests will be on their lonesome,” you say. You inhale sharply when Dawson dives in and flicks your clit with his tongue. “I think that would be more effective.”

Dawson bites the side of your thigh sharply and makes you jump. “Don’t wanna sleep alone,” he complains. “You’re mean to me.” He licks over your folds again, shifting to use both hands to spread you open so he can begin to eat you out properly.

“Fuck, Daws,” you groan, throwing your head back. You take a breath before continuing. “If I’m so mean to you, why am I letting you eat your snack? I could tell you no at any moment and make you go back to the guest room and work some more before kicking you out of my apartment and sending you home.”

“You’re talking a lot for someone who’s supposed to be enjoying herself,” Dawson mutters. You can hear his pout, not needing to see it to know that he’s annoyed that he hasn’t rendered you speechless.

“Maybe you need to do better,” you breathe out, grinding down on the fingers that are slowly tracing your entrance, begging for them to enter you without actually saying it.

Dawson growls at that, taking it like a challenge and dipping his fingers into you and flicking his tongue against your clit quickly, giving everything he can to bring you to your peak.

You moan, reaching under the blanket to thread your fingers in Dawson’s hair. You tug at it and he moans, the vibrations making you shiver and bringing you just that much closer to your orgasm. “Dawsy,” you breathe out. “More.”

“Not much more to give, baby,” Dawson mumbles against your pussy, but pistons his fingers into you more quickly. “Giving you all I’ve got right now. Trying my best to make you feel good, sweet girl.”

“Feels so good,” you reassure him. “Need something else, need a little more.”

Dawson adds another finger, stretching you. He reaches up and pulling the blanket down so he’s not covered anymore. You can see your wetness dripping down his fingers and onto his wrist as he continues to move them inside you. You grip his hair as he brings his other thumb to your clit, rubbing in rapid circles. He spreads his fingers and leans in, doing his best to lick between them and get his tongue inside you. He looks up through his eyelashes at you when he does it and it’s that image, his wide eyes filled with so much admiration for you and determination to prove that he can make you feel so, so good, that makes you clench down and let your release wash over you.

Dawson continues to thrust his fingers into you through your climax, mouthing over your clit and suckling at it until you’re squirming and panting. You pull him up your body by his hair, needing his mouth on yours. You keen into his mouth as he speeds his fingers up again. “Daws,” you gasp.

“Baby,” he replies, then kisses you again. He slips his tongue into your mouth and you two make out, movements lazy. He continues to finger you through it, unwilling (maybe even unable) to pull out of your wet heat just yet. He’s laying on top of you at this point and the weight of him is wonderful, always comforting you like nothing else could.

You kiss for what feels like ages, just feeling each other. Dawson grinds his hips against your leg, pressing his hardness into you, but making no move to do anything about it. It’s lovely, this moment, and comfortable like you two had been in love for years and you could do this every day. In the least cliché way, you knew that Dawson was your soulmate, the person you were meant to find in any universe at any time. He wasn’t yours, but he was.

“Love you, Dawsy,” you tell him between kisses.

He hums in agreement.

“Can you go finish building my bed now?” You ask, your one-track mind itching to get Dawson back on task. You really wanted that bed to be finished today, just so you didn’t have to think about it anymore.

Dawson pulls away and glares down at you. “Here I am, making out with you with my fingers inside your pretty pussy, and you’re going to make me work?” He demands.

You giggle, leaning up to plant a wet kiss, a real smacker, on his cheek. “Yeah,” you say, shit eating grin on your face when you settle back onto the couch cushions. “Go on.”

Reluctantly, Dawson slides his fingers out of you and gets off the couch, licking his fingers clean and adjusting himself in his sweatpants. “So mean,” he reminds you with a cutting glance before he disappears back down the hallway and into the guest room.

You return to your book. “Holler when you’re done!” You yell to Dawson.

“I don’t know why I ever do anything for you,” Dawson replies, voice floating down the hall with ire.

You laugh out loud, loud enough for him to hear, and get comfortable with your book. You read for probably another hour before Dawson summons you to the guest room to inspect his handiwork.

When you round the doorway, Dawson’s eyes grow wide, noticing that you never put your panties or shorts back on. He’s standing next to the bed as you approach and he licks his lips. “You’re sure we can’t christen my handiwork?” He asks again.

“No,” you insist. “Merc, you already got what you needed.” You roll your eyes and flip the bird at your best friend, chastising him for being insufferable in his desire for you. “You’re such a horndog.”

Dawson shrugs. “Can you blame me? I’ve seen you how beautiful you are naked, I’ve heard how pretty you sound when I’m fucking you, and I’ve been loving you since forever. Just because we’re not dating doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to ask. You’re lucky I ask because you know I could pick you up and take you, and you’d love it”

“Do you want me to call you a wah-mbulance?” You retort, folding your arms over your chest. You glare at him with an eyeful of reproach, but he’s right. He’s taken you like that before and it’s been incredible, something you’ll even ask him for on occasion.

“Want you to let me fuck you,” he replies in the same tone, mirroring your actions.

You two stare at each other before bursting out in laughter. You walk over and loop your arms around Dawson’s neck, pressing your body against his and giving him a chaste kiss. His hands rest on your hips, holding you tightly. He kisses you again.

“Go to bed, Merc,” you say when you finally pull away. You step back. “Let me know how the bed feels.”

Dawson bids you goodnight and turns around. You walk to the door. You leave the room and make it all the way to your bedroom before you hear a crash and rush back in.

Dawson is smiling, proud of himself as you take in the lopsided bed. One of the legs of the frame has been hastily removed and if you’re not mistaken, you can see it peeking out from where Dawson’s arms are crossed behind his back. “Oh no,” Dawson says, voice dripping with sarcasm. “It broke. I guess I have to sleep with you.”

Your mouth drops open in disbelief and you let out a laugh. “Dawson!” You exclaim, still giggling. “What’s the matter with you?”

Dawson shrugs. “Well, I can’t sleep on a broken bed,” he tells you. “That would be unsafe.”

“Oh, we wouldn’t want that.” You play along, a small smile still written across your face.

Dawson takes a step forward and bats his eyelashes at you. “I guess I have to sleep in yours.”

“You’re insatiable,” you tell him. You turn on your heel and leave the room, listening for the clatter of the leg of the bed before Dawson’s footsteps trail after you. Both sounds come, just as you expected, and Dawson’s hands find your hips again. He walks with you, pressed along your back, lips attached to the back of your neck.

“I want you,” he teases, his voice light and melodic in your ear. He reaches his hand up and traces your neck. “Don’t I get a reward for building furniture for you?”

“You already got a snack.”

“Ugh, but then you took it away from me after I made you come,” he complains. “And you’re teasing me, not putting your panties back on before checking my work. It’s a little slutty, baby. Is that what you wear for all the people that come to work in your house?”

Now in your bedroom, Dawson turns you around and walks you back until your knees hit the edge of your bed. You fall down onto the mattress and bring Dawson down with you. He reaches up your shirt and grabs a handful of your tit, gripping it in a way that directly contrasts how he was just holding it on the couch.

“No bra either,” he notes, nuzzling into your neck and breathing you in. “You give all these workers quite a show.”

“You know I only dress like this for you, Dawson,” you reply.

“Wish you’d commit to the bit and just be naked all the time.” He kisses your shoulder, other hand sliding up your shirt to grasp your other breast. He kneads them both, rolling your nipples between his calloused fingers.

“Wish you’d take an article of clothing off,” you retort.

“I’ll take it all off for you if you want me to, baby, just say the word,” Dawson promises. “Can I take your shirt off? Wanna get my mouth on these pretty tits.”

“Only if you take yours off too.”

Dawson doesn’t waste a second, pushing up to stand over you. He grabs the back of the neck of his shirt and pulls it over his head, revealing his muscular body to you. His chain falls between his collarbones beautifully and it makes your breath catch in your throat. He unbuckles his belt and pops the button on his jeans, unzipping them and pulling them down his legs, leaving him just in his boxer-briefs. The dark gray briefs leave nothing to the imagination and you bite your lip, gazing at the wet patch on the front of the briefs, right at the tip of his dick.

You reach up and Dawson grabs your hands, pulling you into a sitting position. You raise your arms and he kneels between your legs, pushing your shirt up and bunching the fabric in his hands before he pulls it over your head and reveals your body to him.

Dawson kisses up your stomach, slowly rising from his knees. He lifts you up and gently places you down so your head is on the pillows at the top of your bed. He then leaves a trail of kisses down your neck, shoulder, collarbone, and sternum until he makes his way to your breast.

He takes your nipple in his mouth, flicking his tongue over it. He grinds down on the bed, rolling your other nipple between his fingers again. You moan and once he’s determined that your breast has received enough attention from his mouth, he switches to the other one. It’s slow and sensual, with Dawson taking his time and savoring the moment and the sounds that he pulls from your lips.

“Dawson.” You find your voice, signaling to him that it’s time to move on.

“Mmm?” He continues to suckle on your chest, leaving a hickey on the side of your boob now.

“Fuck me,” you say. “Come up here and fuck me.”

“Yeah?” Dawson asks, pulling away from you to grin at you. “Need my cock, baby?”

You pretend to think. “Need is an exaggeration,” you tell him.

Dawson scoffs and leans down to kiss you, lining his cock up with your entrance. “No pussy gets this wet if ‘need is an exaggeration,’ sweet girl.”

You whine as he sinks into you and he lets out a breath that sounds like a groan, his head falling with the sensation. He presses his forehead against yours and bucks into you, holding back to take in the sensation of your heat around him. He always gets pussy drunk on you and goes too fast, loving the way you squeeze him and milk him for every drop. It’s only so long before he does it again and starts to really fuck into you, but he’s intoxicated now by the slow drag of your walls against his length.

“So warm, so wet,” Dawson groans. “All for me.”

“All yours,” you agree. You close your eyes and kiss Dawson, swallowing the moan that comes from his lips at your words.

His hips start to pick up speed. “Yeah,” he says. “You’re mine.”

“I’m yours.”

Dawson’s hips move with desperation. It’s the easiest way to bring him to his climax, you’ve learned over the past year. He’s possessive over you and although you’re not boyfriend-girlfriend, he knows that you belong to him. When you admit it, when he hears those words come from your mouth, it squeezes at his heart the same way you clench down on his cock when he hits that spot inside of you.

“Dawsy,” you breathe out, clutching at his shoulders. “Feels so good.”

With every thrust of his hips, he brings you closer to your second orgasm of the night. He thrusts forward and sucks at your neck, leaving wet kiss after wet kiss. His saliva cools on your neck as his wet, hot pants leave his lips. He grunts and kisses you deeply, his tongue filling your mouth as deliciously as his cock is filling your pussy. He pulls back and looks down, watching his cock disappear into your heat.

“Fuck me,” he whispers, pressing a hand against your stomach and feeling himself inside of you.

A wanton moan leaves your mouth, back arching from the pressure. Your mouth hangs open and Dawson leans up, biting your bottom lip between his teeth.

“Feeling good, honey?” He asks quietly. “Love hearing you.”

“Yes, yes,” you chant, and you let out a squeal when Dawson reaches up to give your nipple a sharp pinch. “God!” Your stomach turns, so close to climaxing. With every light touch of his fingers and the consistent kiss of his cock to the spot inside you that makes you see stars, you inch toward your peak.

“Just me,” he says, cheeky but like it’s an afterthought. He soothes the pinch with a kiss before leaning back up to kiss you. His hips stutter and Dawson groans. “Gonna come, baby,” he says. “Gonna come with me?”

“Always,” you whine, voice high in the back of your throat but sounding far away, like Dawson’s fucked your soul right out of your body.

“Come,” Dawson breathes out, hips stuttering as he moves them with abandoned fervor, chasing a high that’s just out of reach. “Come, baby, need to feel you. Need you to come on my cock before I do, please,” he begs. “Fuck!”

You can’t control the scream that bubbles in your throat as you let go, juices absolutely soaking Dawson’s cock inside you and the covers beneath you. It wasn’t often that he made you squirt, but tonight was one of those nights. Your release burst out of you like a dam and left you completely boneless on the bed.

It only took a few more thrusts for Dawson to whimper and shoot off inside of you. You’re like a vice around him, clenching down so hard that it’s almost difficult to thrust in and out of you. “Sweetheart,” Dawson whines, voice dripping with emotion. “So tight, fuck, love your pussy.”

He collapses onto you, his head on your chest, his hands on your waist, his weight pressing you into the bed the same way he trapped you onto the couch earlier in the night.

You trace the lines of his face with your thumb as your breath syncs with his and you both come down from your climaxes.

Dawson hasn’t pulled out yet, his cock still half-hard inside of you. He moves his hips slowly, fucking his cum into you at an excruciating pace.

You plant a kiss on Dawson’s head and hug him to your body. “We should probably get up, Daws.”

Dawson shakes his head. “Gonna fall asleep right here.”

You let out a chuckle. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Dawson looks up at you with tired eyes. “Gonna keep my cock inside you all night, wake you up by making you come again.”

You let out a breath at that, clenching down on him subconsciously. You can’t help it. He’s so honest and he’s unabashed about how he wants you.

He smiles, almost devilish. “You like that idea, huh?”

“Gimme a kiss,” you request, puckering your lips and waiting for him to come to you.

He does easily, unashamed and eager. “Could kiss you all night long.”

“Don’t, I’m tired.”

“Just think,” Dawson murmurs against your lips. “We could’ve done all of this in your guest bedroom.”

“Well someone broke the bed.”

“I wouldn’t have had to break the bed if you had just slept there with me.”

You two bicker like a married couple before you remove Dawson’s cock yourself and swing your legs over the side of the bed. He trails after you when you head to the bathroom, brushing his teeth with your toothbrush as you use the toilet. It’s all very domestic and you argue with him about the toothbrush, too, because he has his own and knows exactly where it lives (next to yours in the holder). You steal the brush from his mouth and leave him to rinse his mouth of the minty substance. You turn your back to him to hide the satisfied smirk on your face when you pop the toothbrush in your mouth without rinsing it of his germs.

When you make your way back to bed after cleaning yourself up, Dawson lays behind you and plasters himself to your back. He slips his cock back into your heat again and sighs, settling into the comfort of your heat. He presses a kiss to the back of your neck and breathes evenly until he falls asleep. You fall asleep with him, and if Dawson makes good on his promise of fucking you awake, that’s nobody’s business but yours.

notes: don't ever put me in a room with dawson mercer because i will make it my mission to stockholm sydrome that boy. welcome to my longest fic yet and man, oh man, did i have fun writing this.

#puck-luck's fics #dawson mercer #dawson mercer x reader #dawson mercer smut #nhl smut #nhl x reader #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #andy writes anything🍄

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puck-luck · 11 days

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let it slip | trevor zegras

warnings: daddy kink. i said what i said. teasing, dirty talk, begging, embarrassment, orgasm denial to a certain extent, unprotected p in v sex, minimal choking, one sentence of overstimulation, potential use of "y/n" but i honestly forgot (i just reread this too, but i don't know if it uses y/n) pairing: trevor zegras x fem!reader summary: the one when reader accidentally calls trevor "daddy" in bed and it doesn't go to shit! wc: 861

Trevor was infuriating. You knew that before you started dating him, having known his friends for a good year before you two started going out. You’d hung out with Trevor’s group a couple of times and you knew well that he had a mouth on him. Normally, you were able to ignore his comments or use them to your advantage– but today, he was just teasing. He was running his mouth and holding you still on his cock, pulling out each time you tried to get him to move. Whether it was you grinding down, clenching, or pulling at Trevor’s shoulders and hair, it ended in the same result. He pulled out and, with an annoying smirk, waited for you to beg him to slide his cock back inside you. So really, you couldn’t help it when the word slipped out of your mouth.

“Daddy,” you complained when Trevor pulled his cock out of your pussy again. Then, when you realized what you said, you stilled. Your eyes went wide and you clamped your mouth shut, even bringing a hand up to cover your lips.

Trevor raised his eyebrows in surprise for just a second before smoothing his expression. “Is that how you want this to be?” He asked, rubbing the tip of his cock up and down your folds. When you kept your mouth shut, still reeling from your inadvertent admission, Trevor shifted his hips forward and pressed into you, barely. “Baby,” he said quietly. “Say that again.”

You let out a whimper and shook your head, embarrassed that you had revealed this to him in the middle of sex and not in a better moment, where you could explain yourself. You could feel your cheeks burning with redness. “Trevor,” you said instead, and cringed at the way your voice broke.

Slowly, Trevor shook his head. “No,” he drawled. “No, baby, call me what you want to call me.” He begins to rock forward, slow and calculated, making sure you feel every inch of him. He brings his thumb to your clit and rubs circles on it at the same pace, staring as you close your eyes and take a deep breath. “Come on, sweet girl. It’s okay. Let me be your daddy. Let me make you feel good. Let go.”

You cry out as he starts to snap his hips in a more brutal pace. He’s still staring, taking in every single minute change in your expression. He’s good with his cock and good with his fingers and he’s great with his words, and he knows that he just can’t let you come until you call him ‘daddy’ again. He lets your release build until he knows you’re about to snap and he stops, buried completely inside you.

“You want to come, babydoll?” Trevor asks, wiping the tear from the side of your eye that leaked out when he stopped moving.

“Please,” you plead. “Please, Trevor.”

He makes a disapproving noise and begins to pull out of you, but it’s unbearable. You lock your ankles at the small of his back and hug tightly around his neck and he lets you immobilize him. He could break free of you in an instant with that hockey strength he has, but he’s waiting for you to say the word that’s on the tip of your tongue with baited breath.

“Daddy,” you finally breathe out. “Please, make me come. I’m so close, please don’t take it away, I’ll do whatever you want.”

He snaps his hips forward and resumes fucking you like his life depends on it, reaching one of his hands up to your throat and resting it there. “Keep calling me that,” he tells you. “And I’ll let you come.”

You nearly shriek when he presses down on your throat. Every sense is heightened when he chokes you and his cock presses into you so, so deep with every thrust. You’re babbling, calling him by his new title practically every other word as the pleasure builds in the pit of your stomach.

Trevor presses his forehead against yours. You can feel his breath on your face and his nose nudging yours with each thrust. “Come for daddy, baby. Show me how good you feel.”

As soon as you let go, you can feel him letting go as well. He spills inside of you with a deep groan, burying his face in the side of your neck. You reach down between your bodies and feel the way he continues to slide in and out of you through his aftershocks. His come is leaking out of you with each pass of his hips and he just continues to fuck it back in. He doesn’t even pull out, just maneuvers so you’re laying on top of him on the bed.

“Daddy, huh?” Trevor asks quietly. “I like that.”

You bury your head in his neck this time, blushing and hiding. “‘S embarrassing.”

“Mm, I disagree,” Trevor hums. He slides a finger over your clit and you clench down on him due to the overstimulation. “That one little word has got you this worked up and makes me want to stay inside you all night long.”

notes: finally, my darkest (not dark at all because i'm very comfortable with it) secret has been revealed! yes, readers, i've been a fan of the daddy kink all along. and you know who's daddy as fuck? TREVOR ZEGRAS. not much else to say. hoping everyone enjoyed. definitely nsfw. ....will be including the daddy kink in my works as often as i find necessary. maybe i can pavlov y'all into enjoying it too... hmm...

#puck-luck's fics #trevor zegras #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras smut #nhl smut #nhl x reader #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #andy writes anything🍄

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puck-luck · 15 days

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party favor | nico hischier

warnings: car sex-ISH: fingering, dirty talk, pet names, BLURB! pairing: nico hischier x reader summary: the devs' end-of-season celebration ends abruptly for reader and nico. wc: 273

You and Nico had left the end of season party in a huff, even though Nico was supposed to stay the whole time and fulfill his captainly duties one last time before next season. Yet, here you were, spreading your legs for him in the passenger seat of his car as he drove you two home. Two of his fingers were buried in your cunt despite the awkward angle, curling up and pressing into the spongy spot that his fingers find so easily every time.

“Feel good?” Nico asks, thrusting his fingers deeper inside you and grinding his palm against your clit. “Making me leave the party early, baby, so needy… just couldn’t wait for me to give you what you want, huh?” His eyes never leave the road and his other hand grips the wheel, grounding himself.

You whine, bucking your hips into his hand, feeling the pressure of an orgasm build in your stomach. “Nico, more,” you plead.

He goes to add another finger, stretching you in a way that aches.

Your mouth drops open silently as your head tilts back.

Nico twists his wrist just slightly, adding friction on the inside of you that makes your breath stop and your vision go white.

“Yes, yes, oh, Nico…” you moan, riding out the orgasm.

“Oh yeah? You like it when I do that, baby?” Nico steals a glance at you, all fucked out and satisfied in his passenger seat and pumps his fingers a few more times before sliding them out of you. He brings his hand level with your mouth. “Do me a favor, yeah? Clean me up, hm, chäferli?”

note: chäferli according to this website means “little bug” and i just thought that was tooooo precious. as we all know, i’m a big nico fan. i just know he talks you through it. good morrow everybody. happy last devs game tonight! it's a bittersweet moment for us all. summer szn for the boys but also waaahhhh no more REAL devs content til next season </3 note p2: just a monday morning blurb for y'all as i work on a quinn x reader college au that i'm HOPING will end up between like 5k and 15k. i'm in a VERY quinn mood.

#puck-luck's fics #nico hischier #nico hischier x reader #nico hischer x reader #nhl smut #nhl x reader #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nico hischier smut #andy writes anything🍄

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puck-luck · 19 days

Text

just visiting | trevor zegras

warnings: one (1!) use of "y/n", semi-public sex, hair pulling, unprotected p on v sex (& creampie), fingering, use of pet names (baby <3), praise, slightly? dom!trevor, cussing (<3), light spanking, uhhh eating come i guess? underuse of the name Trevor and overuse of the pronoun "he" as i am known to do in my writing. pairing: trevor zegras x fem!reader summary: the one when reader meets trevor zegras in a bar and has a satisfying one night stand with him in the bathroom <3 wc: 2,554

You’d been dancing with a rotating door of men all night, but your eyes had stayed fixed on one man. He’s sitting at the end of the bar opposite of the dancing floor. In the time since you’d caught his eye, you’d seen him down two beers. He drank them so slow, so lazily that you thought he might’ve been doing it just so you could see the way his lips wrapped around the bottle. He’d come with friends, but they’d all left him a while ago. At this point, it’s well past 2am and you were still waiting for him to get the balls to come over to you. The men who danced with you all thought they had a chance, but you knew and this man at the bar knew that at the end of the night, it would be you two, in a bed, all over each others’ bodies.

The man behind you now is certainly feeling the effects of your rolling hips. His attraction to you is pressing against the small of your back and his hands clutch at your hips, bunching the fabric of your dress. The hem of the dress, a sexy little red number that you only wear when you want to pull someone, is riding up more than you are wholly comfortable with, but the exposed skin has drawn the eye of the man at the bar. In the low light, you can’t tell what color they are, but you know that they’re shining with a challenge. He likes what he sees, but here he is, waiting for the chase. You pointedly roll your eyes at him and turn around to face the guy you’re already with. You’ll make do with what you already have. The guy at the bar isn’t going anywhere.

The guy you’re dancing with is cute, but not turn-your-head cute. He’s got some height on you, just enough that you have to lean up on your tiptoes to rest your arms on his shoulders. He’s got a five o’clock shadow of a beard that rubs nicely against your jaw when he leans down to whisper an invitation back to his place in your ear, but before you can answer, two new hands round your waist and pull you away from him.

“Sorry, but she’s already spoken for,” says the voice from behind you. You glance behind you to find the man from the bar, and you have to choke back a grin.

The man you were dancing with looks confused for a second, but drops the issue with a raise of his hands. “Sorry, man. Didn’t know.” He walks off, probably in search of a new target for the night. There are only so many people left, considering the bar closes at 4 and it’s nearly 3.

“Finally,” you sigh, reaching up to lace your fingers in the man’s hair. He makes it easier for you, coming down to give the curve of your neck a ghost of a kiss. “Took you long enough.”

“Sorry,” he repeats, but it sounds like he’s got a smile on his lips. “Wasn’t sure if you were ready for me.”

“Been ready for you.” You turn towards him and take his hand, guiding it down between your legs so he can steal a touch. You pull it back after just one pass and he groans.

He leans into your space and captures your lips with his. His tongue traces your bottom lip after only a moment and you open, letting him in. He invades your mouth with his tongue and it’s hot, and passionate, and says everything that you need to know better than he could have put it into words. You break apart and he presses his hips into yours, sneaking one of his hands up to graze over the swell of your breasts. “Bathroom?” He asks.

“Not your place?” You reply.

“I’m visiting,” he says. “And I’m sharing a hotel room with someone.”

You hum, thinking about your options. He’s hot and you’ve been playing this game all night, waiting for this moment. Any of the other guys would have sufficed, but you knew from the first moment you locked eyes with this guy that he would make this a night to remember. Your place wasn’t far, but you tried not to go back to your apartment with strange men, especially since you live alone and your apartment building isn’t the securest– something you learned from an experience with the last guy you brought home… who couldn’t quite understand that it was a one-and-done thing. If this guy wasn’t willing to take you back to his hotel room and kick his roommate out, the bathroom might just be your only option.

“Bathroom works,” you agree and take his hand. You lead him through the crowd of people. You reach the bathroom and knock on the door of the single-stall one, hoping that there’s no one in it. When you don’t hear anything, you test the handle, and it swings open easily. You let out the breath you were holding and smile to yourself, dragging this guy in behind you. He turns you so your back is against the door and traps you there, reaching around to press the lock. He leans down and kisses you again, licking into your mouth right off the bat.

“I’m Trevor,” he says between kisses.

“Cute,” you reply, sounding a little breathless already. “I’m Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you.” His hands find their way to the back of your thighs and he lifts you up. You let out an embarrassing squeal out of surprise and automatically wrap your legs around his waist. He chuckles against your lips at your reaction. Still kissing you, he carries you over to the sink and sets you down. Trevor’s deft fingers trace their way to your pussy from your thighs and rub you deliciously.

You let out a breathy moan as he applies just the right amount of pressure to your clit with his thumb before taking it away. He rubs his knuckle up and down your panty-covered folds. “So wet already?” He teases, sounding proud of himself. “All we did was kiss a little.”

You slide your fingers through his hair and grab on, pulling him back in so your lips reconnect. “I bet you’re no better,” you reply. You mirror his actions, reaching your hand down to feel him. He’s hard, just like you expected, but you didn’t expect him to feel so big. You make a content noise as you continue to palm him through his pants, imagining him inside you.

“Found something you like?” He asks, rolling his hips into your hand as he moves your panties to the side and swipes a finger through your wetness. “I did.” He brings the finger up to his mouth and sucks your juices off of it. “Hmm. Sweet.”

You sigh at his comment and your hands fumble with the zipper on his jeans. He reaches down to help you out, sliding the zipper down himself after batting your hands away. He pushes his pants and boxers down just enough to reveal himself to you. “Trevor,” you breathe out when you catch sight of his cock. It’s pretty and hard and it’s positively leaking. You want to put your mouth on it and go to hop down from the sink, but Trevor stops you.

“Wanna get my fingers in you first, baby,” he says. He delicately slides your panties down your legs and kisses your cheek sweetly before taking them all the way off. He stuffs them in his back pocket and gives you a wink before sliding one of his long fingers inside you. He pumps the digit in and out of you slowly, relishing in the way your walls suck him in and clench around him.

Your fingers clutch at the bicep that’s holding you in place and moan as his finger speeds up. He adds another, curling them in a way that makes you crave him even more. You grind down on his hand, chasing the orgasm that’s building inside of you. When he starts to press sloppy kisses on your neck, it’s over. He’s leaving a hickey on your pulse point when you clench down on him and drop your head back, seeing stars with every continued curl and pump of his fingers.

“That’s it,” he soothes. “Good girl. Look so pretty coming for me, baby. Want to see it again.”

He guides you down so your feet are touching the ground and turns you, bending you over the sink. You can see him in the mirror, brown hair messy from when you were running your fingers through it. You drink him in– the flush on his cheeks, the concentration in his eyes as he begins to rub the tip of his cock over your folds. You clench down on nothing and you smile to yourself as his pupils dilate. His eyes flicker up and meet yours in the mirror. You give him a shit-eating smile and he returns it after thrusting inside you. Your mouth drops open and his smile broadens, although you don’t get the chance to see it, considering your eyes are rolling into the back of your head as you adjust to his length.

“Oh my God,” you moan as he fucks into you, rolling his hips slowly just to tease you. You begin to push back against him, trying to meet his hips so his tip reaches that point inside you. His hand reaches up and makes a ponytail out of your hair, pulling it harshly. “Oh my God,” you repeat.

“Stop trying to fuck yourself on my cock,” Trevor admonishes. “Let me do the work, pretty girl. Let me make you feel good.” He lets go of your hair and his hand slides down to hold onto your hip, his other hand resting there already. He speeds up, bucking his hips into you hard and fast, making you shift forward with every thrust. If you thought about it too long, you’d feel the dull pain of the counter pressing against your skin, but right now, all you can focus on is the pleasure of his cock meeting your g-spot with every thrust.

“Trevor,” you whine, dropping your head and reaching down to try and get a hand on your clit. “Please,” you beg, needing just a bit more.

He raises a hand and spanks you hard enough to leave a pink handprint. He steps back and pulls you with him, so you can reach a hand between your legs and rub furious circles on your swollen bud. Trevor soothes the handprint on your ass with a rub before bringing it down again just to watch the way your ass jiggles. His hips jump when you clench down on him after the impact and Trevor suddenly realizes just how close he is to coming.

“Fuck,” he hisses, bending over and plastering his chest against your back. He reaches around you with both hands, his right battering your hand away to rub your clit for you and his left coming up to your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers.

The added stimulation sends shivers up your spine and you can’t help the noises that spill out of you.

“Close, baby?” Trevor asks, eyes boring into yours in the mirror.

“So close,” you reply. “Please, Trevor.” You’re not even sure what you’re begging for, what more he could even do for you since his cock is thrusting inside you and hitting all the right spots and his hands feel like they’re everywhere all at once.

Trevor moans in your ear, thrusting somehow harder into you. “Been thinking about you like this all night,” he groans, then presses a kiss to your shoulderblade. “Show me again how gorgeous you look when you come, baby?”

Maybe it’s the tilt of his head and the way his eyes soften as they meet yours in the mirror, or maybe it’s the way he sounds like he’s pleading with you, like it’s a privilege to see you come undone on his cock. Maybe it’s the fact that you can feel him pulsing inside of you, his thrusts becoming more and more stuttered as he gets closer, but holds off because he wants you to reach that point first.

No matter the reason, within a split second of Trevor asking you to show him what you look like when you come, your legs begin to shake and you can’t even manage to keep your head up as you let go. Trevor grabs your hair and lifts your head again, and you clench down on him as your vision goes white and your climax overcomes you.

You hear a strangled moan behind you and feel him let go, painting your walls white as he releases inside you and continues to fuck you through your release. You’re breathless and when your vision returns, you think he’s beautiful behind you, eyes closed and mouth open. Your heart clenches at the sight and you wonder if, in another life, you’d have him like this every night.

“Fuck,” he whispers into the silence after you both have come down from your orgasms.

“Yeah,” you reply, and you almost frown at the loss when he pulls out of you. You jump when he swipes a finger over your folds and collects some of the fluid that’s leaking out of you.

Trevor turns you around and brings his wet fingers to your lips, staring into your eyes with a silent question. You open your mouth as an answer and suck the come off his fingers, a mixture of both of your pleasure that almost makes you want him again.

His mouth parts slightly as he stares at your lips around his fingers. He’s lost in the moment as you swirl your tongue around his digits, the same way you would if it were his cock. “You’re so hot,” he mumbles, sounding almost disappointed. “But you know that I’m–”

“Just visiting,” you interrupt, letting his fingers fall from your mouth. You give him a soft smile, looking up at him through your eyelashes. “I know.”

“You were amazing,” he tells you. “Just…” he trails off, then sighs. “Amazing.”

“You weren’t too bad yourself, hotshot,” you reply, leaning up to give him a brief peck on the lips. His hands find their way around your waist and his lips follow yours when you pull away. “But you wouldn’t want to worry your roommate in the hotel, would you? Out so late, they might be scared that you got lost or…”

Trevor lets out a little huff of laughter and bites your lip playfully. “I don’t think he missed me.” He pulls back.

You pull your dress down so you’re completely covered again. “Well, Trevor, if you’re ever back in town,” you offer, knowing that it’s probably never going to happen again and that this was a spur of the moment thing. “I’ll be here.”

He nods, leaning down to kiss you one more time. You turn around to fix your hair in the mirror, watching him as he retreats, opening the bathroom door and exiting through it. You’ll probably never see him again, but hey, a girl can always hope.

notes: happy first "posted on tumblr & shared in a way that will impact my digital footprint"! this fic comes at the encouragement of my friend hannah (@johncena2020) & trevor was chosen by the one and only wheelofnames.com. let me know your thoughts/comments/concerns/quibbles/questions & reach out if you want!! i'm looking to write as much as i can to get over the bit of writer's block i have had since, like, forever... and smut seems like the perfect way to do it since i'm a huge consumer of the nhl smut genre. xoxoxoxo hugs and kisses always, andy girl <3

#puck-luck's fics #trevor zegras #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras smut #nhl smut #nhl x reader #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #andy writes anything🍄

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