#NHL Smut

[angelsuecult]

superstition | s. crosby

warnings: smut, explicit sexual content, multiple sexual encounters, MDNI, 18+, nsfw

summary: sidney thinks fucking you before games is the key to winning

request: younger reader and Sid hookup a few times before some of Sid’s games, all of which he so happens to win. A famously superstitious Sid adds a new superstition to his pre-game checklist…

word count: 7.7k

a/n: this one’s insane enjoy it guys. more to come in the coming weeks! also another younger reader x sid is killing me😭😭 most of the ones in my inbox are younger reader which really just reinforces the idea that sidney is as old as dirt💀 anyways… original asker sorry for the wait let me know if you love or hate it or anything!!🫶

—

You’re standing in your kitchen when you hear the knock.

It’s soft, just three little thuds against the wood. You kind of figured he’d come. You didn’t think it’d be this soon—noon on the dot—but yeah, once you noticed his damn watch sitting on the kitchen counter this morning, you figured he’d eventually be back for it.

And you were right.

You open the door to Sidney Crosby standing there in sweatpants, a hoodie pulled over his head, and that distinct half-guilty, half-apologetic look on his face like he knows he’s annoying but still can’t help himself.

"Hey," he says. It’s soft, and a little sheepish. "I, uh... I left something."

You lean against the doorframe with a smirk, arms crossed. "Let me guess. Small, silver, tells time, and absolutely has no real effect on how you play hockey?"

His mouth twitches like he wants to smile, but he’s trying not to. “Yeah. That.”

“You know,” you say, stepping back to let him in, “you could’ve just worn a different watch. Like a normal person.”

Sid walks in, pulling the hood off his head, shaking his hair out. "I can’t. You know I can’t.”

“Oh right, sorry," you say, exaggerated and dramatic. "God forbid you disrupt the sacred ritual.”

“You’re mocking me.”

“I would never mock you,” you lie with a shit-eating grin. "But seriously. You don’t need that watch."

“It’s the watch,” he says like you’ve just questioned the foundation of his existence. “It’s the one I wear every game day. If I don’t have it, I feel like I forgot to wear pants or something.”

You roll your eyes as you head toward the counter, calling over your shoulder, “You’ve definitely played without pants in my dreams before, and I promise you didn’t seem all that concerned.”

You hear him laugh behind you, low and scratchy. It’s not a full belly laugh. Just a quiet sound like he’s trying to keep it under control. Like he’s already fighting the smile and failing.

You grab the watch—it’s right where you left it this morning after eating oatmeal—and you’re already turning to head back when you see him standing in the hallway. Not right outside the door, but close enough that he had to have followed your footsteps.

You hold the watch out toward him. “Your precious.”

He takes it, brushing your fingers as he does. “Thanks. And sorry for just showing up. I didn’t text or anything.”

“It’s fine,” you say, shrugging. “I figured you’d come for it. You and your weird-ass rituals.”

“They’re not weird,” he argues, holding the watch up and inspecting it like it’s got magical properties. “They’re... disciplined.”

You snort. “Sid. You wouldn’t shave your mustache during a win streak even though you started the streak clean-shaven. That’s not discipline. That’s delusion.”

“It’s part of the magic,” he says, totally straight-faced.

You can’t help but grin. “Is the magic in the stache? Because if so, we need to have a talk.”

His eyes flick to yours, slow and deliberate, a faint glimmer there you haven’t seen before. Or maybe you just hadn’t noticed. “You don’t like the stache?”

You smirk, toeing closer. “I’m just saying… it’s hard to take a man seriously when he’s got a porn 'stache straight out of 1976.”

“You still invited that man over for dinner last night,” he says, voice a little lower now.

“I was drunk,” you say.

“You were not drunk.”

“No,” you admit, smile playing on your lips. “But I was curious.”

“Oh yeah?” His voice dips again, and it’s doing something to you now. Something in your stomach. Something a little south of your stomach, too. Fuck.

You lean against the doorframe again, this time letting your head rest on the wood. “Yeah. Wanted to see what it was like when Captain Serious turns off the game face.”

Sid steps closer. “And?”

“I think you still had it on,” you murmur.

There’s a pause. A breath. And then:

“I missed it,” he murmurs.

“Missed what?”

“This.” He gestures vaguely between you and the room. “The way it smells in here. You. The fucking… weird little hum your fridge makes. It’s all just better than my place.”

“Is that your way of saying you want to stay for lunch?” you tease, even though your voice drops lower, just a little rough around the edges.

He shakes his head slowly, still watching you. “No. That’s my way of saying I want to kiss you.”

Your breath catches. “Then what the fuck are you waiting for?”

Sid doesn’t need more than that.

He’s across the kitchen in two strides, hands sliding onto your hips as he pulls you against him. The kiss starts soft, controlled. Then your fingers wind into the collar of his hoodie, and he groans into your mouth. That’s all it takes for things to tip.

His hands slide up your sides, rough palms against soft cotton. Your shirt lifts just slightly with the motion, and he mutters something low—something that sounds suspiciously like “fuck me”—into your neck.

“You don’t have time,” you whisper, even as your body curves into him.

“I’ve got time,” he breathes, kissing under your jaw, against the soft spot just below your ear. “I made time.”

You let out a breathy laugh. “What are you gonna do, be late to warmups?”

“If they knew why, they’d forgive me,” he says, dragging his hands back down to your ass and giving it a good squeeze. “Besides, you’re good luck.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh my god, is this about the game?”

He pulls back, lips wet and curved up. “I’m just saying… you never know unless you try. What if it works? What if we go on a winning—”

You cut him off with a laugh. “Sidney.”

“What?” he grins, completely unbothered. “It’s science.”

“It’s not science.”

“It’s better than science. It’s hockey.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“You’re in your little booty shorts, and you’re fucking glowing, and I’ve been pacing about this stupid watch all morning like it’s gonna save the season, and the only thing I actually can’t stop thinking about is this—” He palms your ass again. “—and you, and the way you moaned my name last night like you were gonna lose your damn mind.”

Your stomach flips.

“That’s not fair,” you murmur, leaning in. “That’s cheating.”

“You’re cheating,” he mutters, pulling you close again, voice gravelly. “Wearing these tiny ass shorts and that t-shirt that keeps riding up like you want me to bend you over the kitchen counter.”

You blink at him, pulse thudding.

“…Do you wanna bend me over the kitchen counter?”

He grins. Slow. Dangerous. “Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to.”

You don’t know who moves first. Maybe it’s him. Maybe it’s you. Either way, you’re suddenly spun around, your hands splayed on the counter, your laugh echoing out of you in a breathless little hiccup.

“You’re the worst,” you say, gasping as he presses against your back.

“You love it,” he whispers, nudging the hem of your shirt up with greedy hands. “Now c’mon, I’ve got thirty minutes to make this a good luck ritual.”

“You’re outta your mind if you think I’m letting you rush this,” you laugh, glancing at him over your shoulder.

“Oh, baby,” he grins, voice all syrup and mischief, “you’re outta your mind if you think I can.”

You feel him before you hear him.

There’s a shift in the room when he steps close behind you, like his body heat carries its own gravity. He doesn’t touch you right away—he just stands there for a second, his breath soft against the back of your neck.

You can’t see his face, but you can feel him looking. Staring, really. Like he’s trying to decide whether this is a good idea or a really fucking great one.

“You gonna make a move,” you ask lightly, “or just stare at my ass until it disappears?”

There’s silence. Then his hands settle on your waist.

“I’ve been thinking about you all morning,” he says, voice low and rough. “Tried to ignore it. Told myself I was just coming for the watch.”

You laugh once—quiet, breathy. “You’re a terrible liar.”

“I didn’t even bring my keys back inside,” he murmurs, leaning in, lips brushing your hairline. “That’s how fast I got out of the car. Like I was afraid you’d vanish if I didn’t get up here fast enough.”

You feel a shiver run down your spine, goosebumps rising under your shirt.

“I’m literally making lunch,” you murmur.

He leans in closer, his chest pressed to your back, and you feel him exhale through a grin. “Yeah? Want me to stir it while I fuck you over the counter?”

Your breath catches.

“That’s disgusting,” you whisper, trying not to smile.

“It’s hot,” he says, kissing the side of your neck. “Admit it.”

You close your eyes, take a deep breath. “You’re on a clock.”

“I’ve got time,” he murmurs. His hands slip under your shirt, palms hot against your stomach. “I always make time for my lucky charm.”

You laugh under your breath. “That’s the cheesiest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

He hums against your shoulder. “Wait till you hear what I say after I win tonight.”

Your back arches when he grazes his teeth lightly across your neck, tongue soothing the spot after.

“Fuck,” you whisper.

He chuckles. “There she is.”

You push back just a little against his hips and hear his breath hitch. When his hands slide down to the waistband of your shorts, he pauses.

“You okay?” he asks, voice serious for just a second. His fingers curl around the hem, waiting.

You nod. “Yeah. I want this.”

He exhales like he’s been holding it in for an hour. “Thank fuck.”

Then he tugs your shorts down in one smooth motion, slow enough to watch but fast enough to make your stomach flip. He groans when he sees how soaked you are, like the sight physically does something to him.

“Jesus, baby,” he murmurs. “Did you miss me or just like the thought of me spiraling over a watch?”

You smirk, glancing over your shoulder. “Bit of both.”

“Fucking tease,” he mutters, reaching between your legs to run his fingers through your slick folds. “You’re such a little—God, I missed this.”

You let out a soft gasp, and his fingers still. Then slowly, he draws them up again, presses one gently inside you, and just watches. His eyes are heavy, jaw tight, the way it always gets when he’s fighting off the urge to go faster.

“Could’ve jerked off this morning,” he says, more to himself than to you. “But then I wouldn’t have had this.”

You laugh softly. “And we can’t mess with routine, can we?”

He groans, forehead dropping to your shoulder. “You’re trying to kill me.”

You clench around his finger and hear him curse, low and breathy.

“Okay,” he grits, pulling his hand away and pressing himself up behind you. “Okay. This is happening.”

You reach back blindly, your hand finding his wrist. “Then do it already, Crosby. You’ve got a game to win.”

He pauses, the tip of his cock just nudging at your entrance, and you can feel him smile—smug, warm, a little in awe.

“You’re gonna be so good for me,” he says, and pushes in.

You both moan—quiet, ragged, completely overwhelmed for a second.

He fills you slowly, dragging his hips forward like he wants to savor every inch. His grip on your hips tightens as he bottoms out, a sharp inhale cutting through his teeth.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans. “You’re perfect. You know that, right?”

You nod, barely able to breathe. “Sidney—”

“I know,” he murmurs, pulling back and snapping his hips forward again. “I know. Just let me—fuck—let me take care of you.”

You brace yourself on the counter, knees weak, as he sets a rhythm that builds and builds, smooth and relentless. He thrusts deep and steady, murmuring curses under his breath—your name, little praises, half-sentences like so good and can’t get enough of you and I swear I’m addicted.

Your hands scramble for purchase on the counter, your breaths mixing with his, the sounds of skin on skin echoing in your tiny kitchen like some sort of holy music.

“Gonna add this to the list,” he pants. “Lucky underwear. Same undershirt. You. Right here.”

“Pre-game pussy,” you gasp, brain foggy from the pressure and the heat and his cock dragging in just the right spot. “New tradition.”

“Best one yet,” he growls, thrusting harder. “You wanna be my pre-game ritual, baby?”

You nod frantically. “Yes—God, yes—anything—”

“Fuckin’ love you,” he groans, voice cracking as he reaches down to rub circles over your clit. “Wanna make you come before I even hit the ice.”

You fall apart around him so hard your legs buckle, and he catches you—keeps moving, keeps praising, keeps fucking you through it until his own rhythm stutters and he finally spills into you with a low, guttural moan.

You both just breathe for a while.

“…I’m gonna score for you tonight,” he whispers eventually. “Promise.”

You snort, wobbly but grinning. “If you don’t, I’m revoking your superstition card.”

“I’ll score twice.”

“You better.”

“Three if you let me shower here.”

“Sidney.”

Then he left around 1:30.

You’d stayed there against the counter for a while—both of you sticky, wobbly, trying to catch your breath and pretend like that wasn’t one of the hottest, dumbest things either of you had ever done in a kitchen. He cleaned you up with a paper towel and way too much tenderness for someone who had just nearly broken you in half over your own countertop. Then he kissed you like you were a goddamn charm he could tuck into his gear bag.

“I’ll text you after the game,” he said, pulling his pants back on. “Might even call. I don’t know. Depends on how smug I’m feeling.”

“You already are smug,” you pointed out, curling into the couch with a pillow as he tied his sneakers.

He gave you a smile—pure Crosby confidence. Flushed cheeks, a little messed-up hair.

“You’re right,” he said. “But imagine me after a win and a goal.”

You laughed. “You haven’t even played yet.”

He leaned down to kiss your forehead. “Don’t need to. I’ve already got the magic.”

Then he patted your ass like an actual menace and slipped out the door.

You went about your day.

Cleaned up a little. Showered. Ate the lunch you were halfway into when he showed up and derailed your entire afternoon with superstition and dick. Swore at him through your TV when the broadcast mentioned how "Sidney Crosby’s had a quiet but focused energy this morning during pre-skate.” Quiet? He was not fucking quiet earlier.

Still, you watched every second. Sid looked good—slick passes, sharp shifts, dialed in. And when he scored that second-period goal, he didn’t even celebrate. Just skated back to the bench with that smug little nod.

Like he knew.

Your phone buzzed seconds after the game was over.

SIDNEY: You watching?

SIDNEY: That one was for you, baby

You shook your head and texted back:

YOU: you’re un-fucking-believable

YOU: your superstition has a nice dick though so i’ll allow it

Two seconds later:

SIDNEY: wow

SIDNEY: Gonna need that embroidered on a towel

He called on the drive home.

You were in bed already, a hoodie on, knees tucked up, scrolling your phone and watching post-game on mute. He was so smug in it you wanted to punch him. Or maybe climb him like a tree.

“Hey,” he said when you picked up.

“Hey, golden boy.”

He snorted. “Don’t start.”

“You scored.”

“I told you I would.”

“Can’t believe you’re actually turning this into a thing,” you muttered, flopping back on your pillow.

“Oh, it’s a thing,” he said, voice already syrupy with pride. “You know how long it’s been since I scored in the second period? Four games. And what changed today?”

“You blew my back out in my kitchen.”

“Exactly,” he said brightly. “And look what happened.”

You laughed so hard you had to roll onto your side. “You are not telling anyone that.”

“Not directly,” he said thoughtfully. “But if I accidentally score again tomorrow, I might drop a cryptic quote in the media scrum. Like… 'We made some internal adjustments.'”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, “Sidney.”

“You like it,” he said smugly.

“I hate how much I like it.”

There was a pause. Then his voice dropped a little lower, softened under all the teasing.

“I’m coming by again tomorrow. Before the game.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh? That fast?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Tomorrow’s another home game. I wanna make sure it’s not just a fluke.”

You bit your lip. “You testing your new superstition, Captain?”

“Hell yeah I am,” he said. “I’m not risking a loss just because I decided to get cute with my routine. You’re part of the system now. You’re like my compression shirt.”

You cackled. “Oh, fuck you.”

“I am,” he said cheerfully. “Again. Tomorrow. Don’t wear pants.”

“Pants are already banned.”

“God, I love you,” he said, way too casually.

There was a silence. Not uncomfortable. Just long enough to feel it settle between you.

“…You mean that?” you asked, heart skipping.

He hummed softly. “I mean it every time I think it.”

You smiled, tucked your face into your pillow.

“Okay,” you whispered. “Then yeah. Come over before the game. I’ll be here.”

“Yeah?” he said. You could hear his grin.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Superstition’s my new best friend.”

He laughed again—quiet, pleased.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” he murmured. “Don’t eat lunch without me.”

You’re still in bed when it happens that next morning.

The room’s quiet. You’re still tangled in the hoodie you slept in, one leg kicked out from under the blanket, face buried in your pillow, blissfully unaware that your morning is about to be ambushed.

The knock at the door scares you. It’s earlier than you expected.

You don’t even need to check your phone.

You already know who it is.

There’s only one person in your life who would show up at your door unannounced before 10 a.m. and somehow still expect you to be thrilled about it.

You shuffle out of bed, feet bare on the floor, and tug the hoodie down over your ass as you pad to the door. You don’t even check the peephole—you just unlock and pull it open with a yawn.

Sidney is standing there with a to-go coffee carrier in one hand, and the most shit-eating grin you’ve ever seen on his face.

“Good morning,” he says, stepping past you like he’s on the lease.

“You’re psychotic,” you croak, dragging the door shut behind him.

“I brought coffee,” he offers, holding up the tray like it’s a peace treaty. “Two creams, one sugar. And I got you the croissant you like. The slutty one with all the almond paste.”

You narrow your eyes. “You bribed me with pastry.”

“I bribed you with victory,” he says proudly. “The pastry’s just a bonus.”

You plop back down on the couch and curl into the blanket you left there the night before. “You couldn’t have called first?”

“I did,” he says, setting the coffees on the table. “You didn’t answer.”

“Because I was asleep. Like a normal human.”

“Okay, but I scored last night.”

“Oh my God, are you really—”

“I scored,” he says, sitting down beside you, “and that’s not something I take lightly. You think I’d risk messing up a streak just because you wanted to sleep in? No way. You’re part of the pre-game now.”

You stare at him.

He looks at you.

“...I hate you,” you say.

He reaches into the pastry bag and hands you the slutty croissant.

You take it without a word.

“That’s what I thought,” he grins, leaning back. “So. We doing this now? Or do you wanna eat first?”

You blink at him. “Sidney.”

“Yeah?”

“You showed up here before ten a.m. for sex.”

“I showed up here before ten a.m. for hockey. The sex is for us.”

You laugh so suddenly you choke on your first bite of croissant.

He grins, pleased with himself, and leans over to press a coffee into your hand. Then, softer:

“I really like waking you up, by the way.”

You glance over at him, croissant still in one hand, coffee in the other, hair a total mess. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He nods. “You’re hot when you’re grumpy.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You’re lucky I’m into delusional hockey men.”

He gives you a little smirk. “You’re lucky I’ve got a pre-game routine that now involves eating your almond croissant crumbs off your tits.”

You nearly spit your coffee out.

“Sidney!”

He shrugs, totally unfazed. “I said what I said.”

You shake your head and pull the blanket tighter around you. “So, what, this is gonna be a daily thing now? You're just gonna pop by, ruin my sleep schedule, fuck me dumb, score a goal, and act like it's all part of your job?”

He stretches, arms behind his head, the collar of his hoodie riding up just enough to flash a little skin.

“Yeah,” he says casually. “That’s the dream.”

You pretend to glare. “You’re lucky you’re hot.”

“I know I’m hot,” he says. “But just in case… I also brought backup almond paste.”

You groan, half into your coffee.

“You’re the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Yet here we are,” he says, grinning. “Now come here, I’ve got two hours before I gotta pretend to care about stretching.”

You’re able to take exactly one sip of your coffee before he starts inching closer.z

Not even subtle about it, either—just this slow, creeping lean like you won’t notice a 200-pound professional athlete sidling up beside you, manspreading into your space like it’s his birthright.

Then he brushes his knuckles against your leg—light, casual, like he’s reaching for a crumb. He’s not.

“You always smell like this in the morning?” he asks, voice low and lazy. His hand doesn’t move away.

You glance sideways, brow raised. “Like what?”

He shrugs. “Warm. Sweet. Sleepy.” His eyes dip down to your thighs. “And a little filthy.”

You nearly choke on your coffee.

“Sidney.”

“What?” he says, blinking at you like he’s innocent. “I’m being romantic.”

“You’re being perverted.”

“I’m being scientific,” he argues. “I’m observing the clear correlation between a certain sleepy person on her couch and me scoring goals like I’m twenty again.”

You shoot him a look, but it’s ruined by the laugh tugging at your mouth.

He grins, a little too pleased with himself. His palm is now resting completely on your leg, fingers splayed. Not moving. Just… there. You can feel the heat of it through your skin, and every second he keeps it there, your pulse ticks up. Slowly, deliberately, like your body’s counting down to something it already knows is inevitable.

“I can’t believe this is what gets you going,” you murmur, trying to keep your voice light. “You’ve had the same damn stick since 2006, and now it’s me on the couch in a hoodie. That’s what unlocks your scoring streak?”

He hums, low and thoughtful. “You’re not just on the couch in a hoodie. You’re mine on the couch in a hoodie. That’s different.”

That one lands. Hard.

Your breath stutters just a bit. He catches it. His thumb starts tracing slow circles on your thigh.

“I mean it,” he adds, softer now. “There’s somethin’ about you like this.”

“Like what?” you ask quietly, already knowing the answer.

“Sleepy. Soft. Still kinda warm from bed,” he murmurs, his knuckles grazing higher. “Hair all messy. Legs all bare. Sittin’ in my hoodie, no pants, lookin’ like the best fucking decision I ever made.”

You blink, heart thudding. “Sid—”

His hand moves, slow and steady, up your inner thigh. Not high enough to really touch you yet—just enough to remind you how close he is.

You swallow hard. “We haven’t even finished breakfast.”

He leans in close, lips grazing your jaw, not quite kissing. “Then this is pre-breakfast.”

Your whole body tenses, but not from fear. From the anticipation that builds slow and delicious and dangerous. That knowing. The space between what’s said and what’s done.

His nose nudges along your jawline. His fingers slide higher. You’re already wet, and he hasn’t even kissed you yet. Hasn’t even taken the blanket off your shoulders.

You close your eyes and lean back into the couch, letting your legs part just slightly. Not much. Just enough for him to notice.

He does.

And fuck, he groans. Just quietly. Just low in his chest like he’s trying not to spook you. Like the sight of you spread open for him in a hoodie and nothing else is about to unravel him completely.

“Jesus, babe,” he murmurs. “You’re already—fuck.”

You smile a little. “I missed you.”

He lets out a breathy laugh and finally—finally—kisses you. Slow. Deep. Hands still gentle on your thighs while his mouth claims yours like he’s got nowhere else to be.

You whimper into him, and that’s when his hand shifts. Just slightly. The pads of his fingers drag along your center, featherlight, barely there. But enough. Enough to make you arch your hips into his touch. Enough to make your fingers grip his hoodie.

He kisses you through it—soft but hungry. You can taste the hint of coffee on his lips, the faint tang of almond from the croissant he probably stole a bite of, and under it all, him—the person you’ve been falling into for months now.

You break the kiss with a gasp when his fingers press more firmly. Still slow. Still not inside. Just gliding, teasing, feeling how soaked you already are.

“You’re unreal,” he whispers, forehead pressed to yours. “You feel like a win.”

You laugh, a little breathless. “You’re so fucking dramatic.”

He grins. “Says the girl whose pussy is dictating the outcome of my entire career.”

You wheeze, slap his shoulder. “Sidney!”

“I’m just saying,” he mutters, and then finally—finally—he slips a finger inside.

You both go still.

You feel him tense beneath you. Hear the sharp inhale through his nose.

Then he exhales slowly, like he’s centering himself around it.

“Fuck,” he murmurs. “You’re gonna wreck me.”

His finger curls, just slightly.

You make a sound he feels more than hears—right in his chest, right in the thick stretch of tension running down his spine. His hand flexes against your thigh, steadying you, anchoring you, like if he doesn’t hold you still you might float the fuck away.

“You hear that?” he whispers, voice gone rough and gravelly now. “That little wet sound when I move my fingers?”

You can’t even answer. Your lips part, your head tips back against the couch cushion, and your hips shift like they’ve got a mind of their own. Every nerve ending in your body is tuned to the slow, slick drag of his finger moving inside you.

He leans in, mouth brushing the shell of your ear. “That’s mine. That sound? That’s me doing that to you.”

“Fuck,” you whisper, hand clenching in his hoodie.

He kisses the corner of your jaw, slow and possessive, while he eases another finger in. You tighten around him, instinctively, and he lets out a broken fuck right against your skin.

“You’re unreal,” he rasps. “You’re so fucking tight. Gripping me like you’re scared I’m gonna leave.”

You whimper, body jolting when he starts to move his fingers deeper—slow but firm, curling just right, working you open with maddening precision.

“I mean, fuck,” he says, half talking to himself now. “I’m supposed to be at the rink in a few hours, and here I am with two fingers in my girl on her goddamn couch because she makes better pre-game magic than a fucking stick tape job.”

You laugh through a moan—shaky, wrecked.

He groans when he feels you clench again. “Yeah? You like that? You like hearing how fucking important this pussy is now?”

“Sidney—Jesus—”

“Gonna start listing you on the game notes,” he mutters, licking a slow stripe up your neck. “Status: questionable. Impact: franchise-altering.”

You shove at his chest, half laughing, half whining. “You are so fucking—”

“Obsessed?” he offers.

You nod, breathing heavy.

He curls his fingers deeper, presses them right against the spot that makes your knees twitch, and your body goes still.

“Yeah,” he growls. “Me too.”

Your thighs start to shake. Not hard. Not violently. Just the quiet warning tremble of an orgasm building low and molten in your belly, deep and steady like a fucking drumbeat. You grab for his wrist, not to stop him, but to ground yourself. Like if he keeps going you might fall apart too fast.

But he doesn’t stop.

He just smirks.

“You close?” he murmurs.

You nod, panting.

His thumb moves then—lightly. Just a little pressure over your clit. Not even fully rubbing yet, just there. Just enough to tip the scales. Your eyes flutter shut. Your hips buck forward.

“You’re gonna come on my hand,” he says, pure filth now. “Right here on your couch like the dirty little good luck charm you are.”

You moan, mouth open, chest rising fast.

“Wanna see it,” he whispers. “Wanna feel it. Want this pretty little pussy to clamp down around my fingers and soak my wrist like it fucking needs me.”

Your orgasm hits so fast it almost knocks you over.

Your body arches, your mouth drops open in a silent cry, and Sidney holds you through it—fingers still moving, slow now, gentle now, easing you through the wave with the quiet admiration of a man who just watched God flick the puck into the top corner of his soul.

You twitch, moan, collapse into him.

He kisses your cheek, your jaw, your shoulder, all soft again. All worship. Like he can’t stop touching you now. Like you’ve made him feral.

“Fuck,” he breathes, pulling his fingers out slow and filthy. “You wanna see what you just did to me?”

You blink, dazed.

He grabs your hand and pulls it down over the front of his joggers.

You feel it instantly—hot, hard, leaking against the inside of his waistband.

“You feel that?” he growls, breath shaky. “That’s what happens when I finger you on your fucking couch. That’s how bad I want you.”

You palm him through the fabric, biting your lip, your hand moving slowly.

He hisses through his teeth. “Keep that up and I’m gonna embarrass myself like a fucking rookie.”

You smirk. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me,” he grits. “You wrecked me before I even got my damn skate laces on.”

He catches your wrist gently, pressing your hand flat against him and holding it there. Like even the pressure through the fabric is too much. Like he’s aching for you.

“You gonna let me fuck you now?” he whispers. “Or you wanna make me beg a little?”

He kisses you again before you can answer. He pulls you into his lap like it’s nothing, like you weigh nothing and he has nowhere to be, even though he very much does. His hands are on your hips, your waist, your thighs—gripping, smoothing, mapping.

You grind down over him once—just to feel it. Just to test the waters. And oh, he’s already hard.

Your fingers curl around him through the soft fabric, slow and deliberate, and you feel the way his thighs tense underneath you. He watches you—jaw slack, pupils blown, completely at your mercy.

“You want me to ride you?” you ask, voice quiet but steady, chin tilted.

He nods too fast. “Yeah. Fuck. Yes.”

You sink down onto him inch by inch, your mouth falling open as the thick head of his cock stretches you wide. He’s holding you steady, big hands firm on your hips, not guiding—anchoring. Letting you take your time. Letting you feel all of him.

It’s a stretch. A full, aching stretch. And you need it. You want to feel stuffed, owned, possessed—every slow second of it.

You squeeze him without thinking.

He groans, his whole body flinching underneath you.

“Shit—don’t do that,” he breathes. “I’m not gonna survive if you keep doing that.”

But you don’t stop. You shift your hips just slightly, just enough that he sinks even deeper inside you, and that’s when it happens—your breath catches, spine arching, legs twitching from the way he hits that spot again, so easily, like he knows it now.

Sidney feels it.

He feels everything.

“Right there, huh?” he whispers, one hand sliding down to your ass, gripping it possessively. “That’s where it hits?”

You nod against his shoulder, clenching your teeth.

He fucks up into you once. Just once. Deep and slow and deliberate.

You wail, high-pitched and helpless, your pussy fluttering around him again, soaking his lap.

“Fuck, baby,” he whispers. “You’re so sensitive… and you’re still fucking dripping. That’s how bad you needed it?”

You whimper, trying to push yourself up, but he wraps an arm around your waist and keeps you pressed right against his chest.

“No, no. Don’t go anywhere. You stay right here.” He thrusts again—deeper. Slower. You feel all of him. The ridge, the length, the heat, the weight. “Let me feel how full you are.”

You choke out a moan and nod. Your legs are shaking again.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs. “So pretty like this. So warm. Still squeezing me.”

He kisses your jaw, then your temple, then your hairline.

“You gonna come again for me?” he asks softly. “You gonna let me fuck it out of you slow this time?”

You try to say yes but all that comes out is a soft noise—something desperate and broken.

“That’s what I thought.”

His hips start to move again. Gentle. Purposeful. He’s still holding you close, like you’re too precious to let go, even as he fucks you with slow, deep thrusts that make your head spin.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he breathes. “Not till I get every fucking drop.”

You’re a mess above him now—twitching, gasping, hips rolling with his in a slow, wet rhythm that’s more intimate than anything else. You’re still stretched around him, slick with his precome and yours, and the sounds are filthy—obscene and sticky and wet.

And he’s whispering filth in your ear the entire time.

“You should see how messy you are right now,” he murmurs. “Your thighs are soaked. My hoodie’s fucking ruined. You’re dripping down my balls, baby.”

You moan—loud this time.

“You love it,” he groans. “You love sitting on my cock like this. Stuffed so full. All used up. Don’t lie.”

“I do,” you whimper. “I—fuck, Sid, I do—”

“Yeah? Then let me feel you again. Let me feel you shake around me, pretty girl.”

His hand slides between your bodies again, fingers slick, finding your clit.

You scream.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he hisses. “There you go. You’re doing so fucking good.”

You can’t breathe. Can’t think. You feel it rising again—so much quicker than you expect, so much deeper this time. Like your whole body’s folding in on itself.

“I—fuck—I can’t—”

“You can,” he says through gritted teeth. “You’re gonna come on my cock like the perfect little superstition you are.”

You snap.

The orgasm rips through you—your body arches back, thighs locking around his hips, walls pulsing in wave after wave, your entire core clenching around him like it never wants to let him go.

Sidney groans so loud you feel it in your ribs.

“Jesus fucking Christ, you’re squeezing the life out of me—fuck, there you go, that’s it—”

He thrusts one last time—slow and brutal—and he spills inside you again, growling through gritted teeth as your pussy pulls every drop from him.

You collapse against him, shaking like a leaf, lips swollen, eyes fluttering shut. And still—still—he keeps you there. Keeps you full. Wrapped up in his hoodie and his arms and his cock.

“Don’t move,” he whispers. “Stay right here. I need you to stay like this for a minute.”

He left just like he had the day before—sweaty, satisfied, and in absolutely no rush to let you go.

Kissed your neck while you were still in his lap. Then your shoulder. Then the corner of your mouth. Brushed the sweat off your hairline with the back of his hand like he was so proud of you for fucking him dumb.

“You’re a weapon,” he muttered, pressing one more kiss to your temple as you lay curled under the blanket again. “Goddamn lethal.”

“Don’t forget your pants,” you reminded him as he stood to stretch, looking way too smug for a man with no underwear on.

“I’m taking my superstition with me,” he said, bending to kiss you again. “But I’ll leave you a sock or something to hold for good luck.”

You threw a pillow at him.

He left you his coffee and three forehead kisses before finally walking out the door.

You went about your day in a semi-deranged fog. The kind that happens when you’ve been fucked senseless twice in forty-eight hours before noon and now you can’t stop smiling like an idiot in the produce aisle because Sidney Crosby said your pussy was franchise-altering.

You couldn’t even nap because your body kept remembering it—kept clenching around nothing, kept flashing to the sound of him groaning, Fuck, you’re gonna kill me, with your hips grinding over his lap. He ruined you. And now he was probably drinking a protein shake like he didn’t just rewrite the NHL superstition book with your ass on the couch.

By game time, you were back on the sofa, t-shirt on, blanket over your legs, stomach full of something frozen and microwaved and mindless, waiting for your guy to hit the ice like the goddamn weapon he said you were.

And of course—because of course—the Penguins won.

Not just won. Controlled the whole damn game. Sid was everywhere—sharp, loud, perfect passes, puck possession like his stick was made of magnets. The broadcast said he looked renewed. Focused.

You screamed when he got the primary assist on the game-winner in the third. Not because it was a beautiful play (though it was), but because you knew. Knew what he was thinking. Knew what this meant. Knew the exact level of chaos about to enter your phone.

Sure enough, your phone buzzed the second the final buzzer went off.

Not even thirty seconds after the win.

SIDNEY: you.

SIDNEY: me.

SIDNEY: tomorrow.

SIDNEY: early.

SIDNEY: no underwear.

SIDNEY: nonnegotiable.

You stared at the screen and wheezed.

And then another one came in.

SIDNEY: You’re actually the key to my legacy babe I’m so sorry but this is your job now

And then:

SIDNEY: I’ll bring coffee again

You snorted, curled into the blanket, and typed back:

YOU: i’m gonna need a salary if i’m being added to the roster

A minute later:

SIDNEY: I’ll pay you in orgasms and bagels

YOU: you just made that sound like a threat

SIDNEY: It IS a threat

SIDNEY: I’m scoring like i’m 22 again. i’m high off serotonin and your pussy

SIDNEY: don’t back out now this is science

You bit your lip, eyes glued to the screen.

YOU: …fine

YOU: but only if you keep calling me your lethal weapon

SIDNEY: Fuck

SIDNEY: you LIKE that??

SIDNEY: You are so fucking sick I love u

You rolled onto your back and laughed, just full-body laughed, face warm, heart racing, grinning at your ceiling like a lunatic.

Because it was happening.

You were gonna have to deal with this every single game day now. An absolutely insufferable, desperate-for-pre-game-pussy Sidney Crosby. Every home game. Probably even on away games if he figured out how to teleport.

And honestly?

You didn’t mind one bit.

But after that second win, things really started snowballing.

Four more home games. Four more wins. Four more completely unhinged, increasingly inventive rendezvous before puck drop—each one more ridiculous, more intense, more depraved than the last. Sidney Crosby: the NHL’s golden boy, respected captain, revered veteran, was now fully convinced that you—your mouth, your body, your tongue on the underside of his cock before faceoff—was the key to team success.

Not a new stick. Not new tape. You.

And the worst part?

You kind of believed it too.

Each time was different.

Each time was worse.

Third time? You had to leave work early. Take lunch at 11:30. You told your boss you had cramps. What you had was Sidney pressed up against you in the bathroom of your office, one hand over your mouth and the other holding your leg up as he fucked you into the tile like his bonus depended on it.

You’d barely made it back to your desk. Your knees didn’t stop shaking until 3 p.m. You accidentally typed “power play” into a message meant for the HR girl about ordering tomorrow's team lunch.

Sidney had left with his shirt untucked and this smug little look on his face like he was going to put up a hat trick just from the high of hearing you gasp his name in the restroom.

He didn’t get a hat trick.

But they won.

Again.

Fourth time? A week after the first. You stayed over at his house the night before—easier that way, you’d said, teasing, your feet in his lap while he rubbed your calves and gave you that look that meant you were about to be horizontal in the next ten seconds.

He woke you up that morning with his head between your thighs and the kind of moan that didn’t belong in the suburbs. Then pulled you onto his lap in the kitchen and fucked you while eating toast between thrusts.

“I’m a multitasker,” he groaned, gripping your hips like his life depended on it.

You’d rolled your eyes and muttered something about elite athletes being the worst. Then promptly came with your nails in his forearms and your forehead on the fridge.

Another win.

Fifth time? The car.

He picked you up from brunch. The plan was to hang out for a bit, maybe grab coffee, definitely not rail you in the backseat of his oversized SUV in the parking garage near the arena.

Except he said the way you were sitting in the passenger seat was “fucking rude.” All cross-legged and smug. Hair tucked behind your ear like you didn’t know what it did to him.

Next thing you knew, your panties were off, your hands were braced on the headrest, and his voice was right in your ear saying shit like, “This counts. I swear to god this counts.”

You didn’t even bother fixing your hair afterward.

They won again.

And that smirk?

That fucking smirk when he looked up at the scoreboard?

You knew exactly where it came from.

And the sixth time wasn’t just pregame superstition.

It was his farewell tour.

He showed up early. Real early. Brought a duffle bag like he was moving in. Like he was preparing to make a pilgrimage across your entire apartment like some kind of ancient worshipper of orgasms.

The bed?

Destroyed.

The shower?

Fogged up like a car in a cheap movie.

Your kitchen table?

You were still scared to eat there.

“Sidney,” you gasped at one point, hand fisting the hem of his t-shirt as he buried himself inside you for the fourth time, “Are you trying to win tonight or destroy my pelvic floor?”

He groaned into your neck. “Yes.”

“You have a flight at, like, 2.”

“And I’m not gonna be here tomorrow. I need enough good luck to carry me.”

You swore he came inside you like he was storing it for future use.

And then he collapsed next to you, fucked out, breathless, sweating and grinning and barely able to lift his arm to pull you against his chest.

“I’ve never felt better in my life,” he mumbled.

You ran a hand down his abs. “You say that every time.”

“I mean it every time.”

“You’re out of your mind.”

“I’m a man of routine.”

“You’re a menace.”

He smirked. “Say it again.”

“You’re gonna fall apart on the road.”

He paused.

Then:

“Come on the road with me,” he said, wild-eyed.

You blinked at him. “What?”

“Just for a few games,” he said, brushing your cheek like a lunatic. “It’s not illegal.”

“I have a job, Crosby. I can’t just hop on the team plane and suck your dick across state lines.”

“Why not?” he asked, like you were the one being unreasonable. “I’m in love with my game day miracle.”

“You’re not in love. You’re addicted.”

He groaned. “Then don’t cut me off. I’m in withdrawal just thinking about the flight.”

You rolled your eyes, kissed him one more time, and sent him off to catch the team plane—his hair still wet, lips still pink, and cock still twitching under his boxers like it knew it was going to suffer.

And suffer it did.

Because that first game on the road?

They lost.

Not a humiliating loss. Just a tight one. Final score 3–2. Hard-fought. No blame to pin on any one player.

But Sidney?

He knew what went wrong.

And the second the final buzzer went off?

Your phone lit up.

SIDNEY: Un-fucking-believable.

SIDNEY: I told you.

SIDNEY: Look what happens when you don’t follow the rules.

SIDNEY: This is a disaster. I hate it here. I hate everything. I’m horny and sad and superstitiously cursed.

YOU: maybe you just lost

YOU: like a normal team does sometimes???

SIDNEY: Nope.

SIDNEY: This is your fault.

SIDNEY: We had a system.

YOU: you want me to smuggle myself into your hockey bag???

SIDNEY: Yes.

SIDNEY: Yes I do.

SIDNEY: I swear to god the second I get home I’m coming over and fucking you through the floor.

YOU: is that for the team?

SIDNEY: It’s for science.

YOU: you’re a disgrace to science

SIDNEY: You say that now

SIDNEY: but when I’m back and have you face-down before breakfast

SIDNEY: a you’re gonna call me a genius

You turned your phone face-down on the bed and screamed into your pillow.

This man was out of control.

Fully unhinged.

And you already couldn’t wait for him to get back.

—

[qrrieterisunnq]

Hello!! Congrats on the 600

Can i get an affogato “You have no idea how much i want you.” With Juraj Slafkovsky ?? ty

Right Now - Juraj Slafkovsky

rez's café || masterlist || taglist

MINORS DNI - 18+ content below the cut — WARNINGS: unprotected sex, public space sex — SUMMARY: A filthy grind on the dance floor turns into a breathless, bathroom quickie that leaves Juraj promising a second round the moment you get home. — WORD COUNT: 0,6K — AUTHOR’S NOTE: This is officially the last order! Thank you all for requesting! I really enjoyed this celebration and I hope you did too. What I don't understand, there was 600 of you like a month ago, and now there is already halfway to 700 of you! A massive thanks guys!!

You are in the new nightclub in Montreal, grinding your ass against Juraj’s cock, when his hands slide from your hips to your front, sliding down over your pelvis.

“You are so beautiful, y/n,” he says in your ear, loud enough for you to hear. “You have no idea how much I want you,” he finishes, hand sliding up your bare thighs up to the hem of your really short dress. “Such a tease,” he mumbles to himself, as his hands slide past the hem, tracing your naked skin.

“Why, you said I can wear what I want,” you say innocently, grinding your ass even more intensely, already feeling his hard cock pressing against your ass.

His fingers trace the edge of your panties, caressing your pussy through the fabric, while you can feel the wetness soaking through them.

“I barely touched you and you are already wet,” he smirks, circling your clit through the panties, drawing a soft moan past your lips.

“And you are already rock hard,” you grin back at him, arching your back at the feeling of his fingers on your still-covered pussy.

Without any word, he spins you around, grabs your hand and almost drags you to the restrooms.

You both don’t waste a second, as soon as the door shuts behind you and he locks it, you immediately jump at him, lips pressing against his in a hungry kiss. Your hands tugging at the small of his hair on the nape of his neck, while his roam the soft curves of your delicious body.

Not wasting a time, he pulls up your dress, grabs your hips and picks you up, your legs wrap around his waist. He holds you up with one hand while the other one struggles with unzipping his pants.

Giggling in the kiss, you rest your head against his shoulder, waiting for him until he pulls his pants down to the middle of his thighs, together with his underwear.

“You ready, babygirl?” he mumbles in your ear, while he slides your panties to the side.

“Yeah,” you breathe out, feeling the tip of his cock pressing against your entrance. Slowly and gently, he pushes the tip of his cock inside you, moaning at the warmth and wetness surrounding his cock. Your walls clench around his tip, welcoming him inside.

Moaning in his ear, he pulls out and thrusts again in, now balls deep inside you. Your moans mingle in a perfect symphony together with the sound of his hips slapping against your ass from the impact of how hard his thrusts are.

“Keep clenching around me, love,” he moans between the thrusts, his lips attaching to yours in a slow yet passionate kiss.

“Juraj,” you moan loudly, circling your hips, feeling the tip of his cock rubbing against the spongy spot deep inside you. “Harder,” you moan, trying to rock your hips.

“As you wish, ma’am.” With those words, he starts thrusting into you like a madman, building the orgasm in your lower belly.

You don’t even have time to warn him about coming. A wave of pleasure rocks through you, your body shaking against Juraj’s, who is following you with his release. A loud groan roars from past his lips as he empties himself in his hand, not wanting you to get messy.

He leans his head against your, breathing heavily, but doesn’t let go of you. The only thing he does is move your panties and dress to their previous place, and somehow, he manages to fasten his pants.

“That…that was something,” you breathe out slowly, moving down, back on the ground.

“Yeah, we will repeat that as soon as we get home,” he smirks at you, grabbing you by the throat and giving you one last kiss before you get back to the dance floor and enjoy the rest of the night there.

[cuteandhughesy]

Chemtrails Over The Country Club ╰┈➤ MK23 + JW60

summary: the story of you, the country clubs two golden boys, and the summer that changes everything.

pairing: matthew knies x reader + joseph woll x reader (separate)

[word count] 11.1k

warnings: slow burn | friends to lovers | love triangle (kind of??) | kissing | drinking | tension | humor | mentions of sex | mature themes and dialogue | read at your own discretion

🎵 chemtrails over the country club by lana del rey, sweet relief by madison beer, summer by calvin harris, wonder by megan moroney + daylight by taylor swift

there's something different about this summer.

maybe it's that it's warmer than normal, covering your skin in a slick sheen of perspiration before you even reach the welcome center. or maybe it's the freshly cut grass being done in a different direction than last year, or maybe it was the pineapple juice that your directive coordinator, Courtney, pushed into your hand as soon as you walked in the room—rather than the usual bottles of water.

but there's just something in the air this time around—and something more than the dusty smell that the air conditioner gives off. it's a smell that's oddly comforting. after almost 3 years of working at the country club—entering your 4th now—the pristine walls and shiny floor tiles, combined with the clanking golf balls and rhythmic sound of pool water lapping, has become sort kind of second home for you.

it started when you were freshly 18 and in search of work to attempt at saving up to purchase your first—used, granted—car. you stumbled upon the indeed ad purely accidentally. you were looking for something more office like because, well, you had a closet full of business causal clothes that served no purpose other than collecting dust.

but then the country club ad—looking for beverage chart girl for their high end golf course. you applied on a whim and got an interview the following week. the rest was history.

the annual introductory session goes by in a bunch of dragged out greetings and sweaty handshakes. it's for the guests, new and old, to become acquainted—or reacquainted—with their staff. everyone from line cooks to lifeguards are there. you don't have time to see any of your co-workers, not when lucinda, a long time member of the club, keeps talking your ear off about her grandchildren. you don't mind really, but there's a few familiar faces you wouldn't mind seeing again.

you hate this part of introductory day—mostly because it gives the creepy old men a pass to touch your arm, and make snide comments about your appearance. but soon enough, night comes crawling into the world like a dark fog, constellations coupled with the moon lighting the staff only party like a lamppost.

the bonfire roars steadily ahead of you, further lighting the patio in a warm, fuzzy glow. it's decorated as it usually is—that perfect mix between rustic and modern that fills the common pinterest board. the heat of the flames warms your bare legs, and your already wishing you chose to ditch the oversized hoodie on your upper half.

"y/n!" the familiar voice of the other bev chat girl, diane, cuts over the rustle and bustle of the patio. you see her then, all bright eyes and bouncy blonde hair. "thought we wouldn't see you tonight." she's wrapping you in a hug before you can blink.

you hug her back. she smells like coconut and bonfire. she pulls back, a knowing look to her face that tells you that you know exactly who the we is in her previous comment.

matthew knies' laugh floats through the air like oozing honey. it's impossible to ignore, not when it's been a year since you've seen him or heard that sickly sweet laugh. he's laughing at something one of the line cooks had said in passing, a corona clutched in his large hand while he stalks over towards you and diane.

even though it's dark, you can see that he's already tan like he's been here for months already. it suits him, and so does the wide smile that plays at his plump lips as he nears close enough.

he smells like beer and summer memories. and his laugh is still the same—it's boisterous and loud and perfectly encapsulates the man that is matthew knies.

"there she is," he smirks once, pulling you forward in a hug. his beer hits your shoulder in a dull thump, liquid almost sloshing over the rim and soaking your back. "missed you."

you tilt your head incredulously, "miss me or miss free coronas while you're on the course?”

matthew's grin deepens, "you really want to know the answer?" he squeezes you tighter, a wordless way to show you that's he's only teasing. that's matthew though, always teasing you like an annoying schoolboy.

"depends," your sing song voice comes to a halt as you catch sight of a familiar face and head of chocolate brow hair appear next to matthew.

joseph woll looks as soft as ever. his blue eyes trickle over to you, and your gazes meet in a knowing moment. the corner of his mouth turns up in a half grin—not teasing, but rather surprised.

“y/n,” he says your name in a breathless way. “hi.”

"joey," his nickname, the one that last summer he whined and complained about—claiming that it make him sound uncool—slips from your tongue like it's second nature. "hey."

matthew's eyes dart between you both, a neutral expression horning his features. quickly, he moves, tugging you back into his side and making some stupid joke that you don't quite understand. you laugh like you do, and subconsciously seek the warmth provided by the heat radiator of a man.

joseph watches—carefully—taking a slow slip of his beer while he does. the heat of the fire is prickling at your legs when joseph speaks again. "how was your winter?" he asks you this question every year, and somehow every year his curiosity surprises you.

you met both matthew and joseph back on your first day, all those sticky summers ago.

matthew came first, bright eyed and devilish smirk that told more than words could've. he's always been the trouble maker, sneaking out at night and stealing cocktails before customers could even blink. it put your boss and owner of the club in more pickles than she'd like to recount, but matthew was charming and kind and handsome and the guests adored the goofy life guard. so she keeps him around.

that first day he'd swiped you off your feet, quite literally. it was an accident. purely a mistake. you'd been walking through the pool area, boss slightly ahead as she showed you around the club. matthew was talking to someone—someone you don’t remember—and not paying attention. with his red whistle hanging loosely around his thick neck, he totally barreled into you. knocking you straight into the cold, chlorinated pool.

you were submerged and shocked, blinking underwater as you attempted to recall what the fuck just happened. oh, right! you'd just made a fool out of yourself on the first day. great! but before you could even think of choosing to stay underwater and let the embarrassment take you, matthew was diving into the water, pulling you into him and out of the water faster than you could take a gasp.

"i'm so sorry," you remember his voice being deep. his hands weak on your arms as he leaned down to look into your eyes. "I wasn't paying attention."

your boss was asking if you were okay at the same time she was signalling for somebody to get towels. you blinked through the stinging sensation of chlorine, lips trembling as you looked back at matthew. "It's okay. I'm okay."

and then came joseph. appearing out of thin air with a fluffy striped towel and a bottle of water under his bicep.

he crouched down, right in front of you and directly beside matthew. you remember thinking  that you've never seen such attractive men this close. it only dialled up your embarrassment levels from there.

joseph gave you a kind smile, "you must be the new cart girl."

as the summer started, you eventually got over your embarrassment form the whole pool incident. although, with matthew coming up to you ever day and begging for you forgiveness—you weren't mad, but whatever— it definitely wasn't helping. there was one time he got down on his knees, eyes twinkling with tease, in front of everyone as he begged and pleaded his innocence, and that the pool thing was his biggest fuckup.

matthew's grin had only widened as people started watching and cooing like it was some sort of romantic gesture. you remember blushing and pulling him back onto his feet. "you're forgiven," you whispered fiercely, but a smile was threatening to break through. "just don't do that again."

he grinned back, all bright and smelling like pool. "no promises," matthew told you, "after all, this is just the beginning." over the next few weeks of your first summer, you learned that it was matthew's third and he's been working at the country club since he was 16. perhaps that's why your boss has such a soft spot for him too.

matthew was your first friend at the country club. and soon enough, you became accustomed to his sharp banter and flirtatious manner, growing fond of his personality and presence.

but just like gravity, you found yourself also drawn to joseph. it was his first year as well, only starting a few weeks before you had. he was more quiet and reserved, unlike matthew. you and joseph only started to properly talk well after matthew dubbed you as his.

it's easy with joseph. familiar in a way that differed from matthew. it's something you couldn't ignore—something that never fails at pulling you back into his orbit. joseph doesn't flirt—not in the way matthew does.

"good," you start, shyly tucking a loose piece of beach wavy hair behind your ear as all heads turn in your direction. "I've graduated now. well, the ceremony hasn't happened yet, but i'm officially finished classes."

"that's really great."

matthew waggles his eyebrows in a way that tells you he's about to say something that will inevitably have you either rolling your eyes or biting back a grin. most likely both. "so when's this ceremony? you need a hot date for it, cause I know a guy."

you playfully push him away, and are instantly enveloped by the chill of early june. "does this guy happen to work here?" you quirk a brow, "who also happens to lifeguard?"

matthew tucks his bottom lip between his teeth, "some would say."

"ignore him," joseph says, elbowing matthew in the ribs in a not so subtle way. "he thinks if he gives you enough compliments he won't have to pay for drinks on his days off."

matthew makes a noise half between a scoff and a laugh, but you interrupt with your own teasing remark before he can defend himself. "he doesn't pay for them anyways. he's a filthy stealer."

you raise an eyebrow in his direction, a silent challenge, and much to your enjoyment—or dismay—matthew leans back into your space, lips almost brushing your ear as he whispers, "i'm definitely filthy."

but joseph hears every word. he watches carefully, studying your expression like at the smallest sign of discomfort he'll swoop in and save you. matthew gives you some complaint, one that holds no real meaning but still gives you intel.

matthew thinks you look hotter than last summer. grown up a little bit more. but he also says that every summer. "you been at the gym or something, y/n?"

your eyebrows draw together in playful confusion while you take a sip of your beer. "you trying to give me a compliment or make me dump my drink over your head?"

"if you want to see me all wet and sticky, all you have to do is ask."

joseph watches the way you squirm and tell matthew to go flirt with some hopeless new girl—there's a few new hires working the indoor cocktail lounge this summer—and joseph has to look away when matthew bites his lip, winking at your briefly before doing exactly what you wished.

after a beat, his eyes settle back over your figure. you're not looking at joseph, not yet. your eyes are trained down the spout of the bottle, twirling the beer in your hands to create a mini whirlpool within.

perhaps its cinematic. perhaps not.

although matthew's form of pointing out your obvious changes since last summer isn't a route joseph would take, he can't help but agree with the lifeguard. you do look different. a good different. throughout the winter you have seemed to loose the last lingering baby fat, leaving your face sharp and mature. you're a bit leaner, but still the perfect balance of limbs that has joseph wonderstruck.

finally, when you do look back at him, joseph finally sees the biggest change of all. the underlying confidence you seemed to lack the past summers. the way you easily held matthew's banter without a blink. the confidence suits you.

"I'm glad you came back this summer." joseph says finally. "i've missed you bugging me at the bar."

you grin, "let's not pretend like me coming up to steal your maraschino cherries isn't the best part of your summer, joey."

joseph gives a noncommittal hum as answer, while ghost of a smile dares to pull at his mouth. he doesn't answer with words, and for you, that's enough of one. his gaze lingers on you for a moment longer, but there's something in his eyes this time. something that makes a dangerous pull happen in your heart.

voices call your name from around the bonfire, catching both your and joseph's attention. one of the older guys has seemed to set up some sort of half circle with a majority of staff around your age—no doubt some stereotypical party game at the ready.

matthew is already there, waving you both over while one of the new girls sits on the arm of his deck chair.

"well," you say to joseph, "looks like we're being beckoned."

he sighs, disappointed that his time with you has once been interrupted. you don't catch that, thankfully. joseph finishes his beer in three gulps before nodding, "duty calls then."

By the time the game really gets started, drinks have been consumed and your blood has warmed up to a borderline uncomfortable temperature. as you suspected, a round of never have I ever has conspired, leaving the thick summer air even more blazing.

it doesn't help that someone has passed a bottle of rum around, and every body has become giggly and ridiculous—that is including the questions.

your knees are against your chest as you lounge in one of the rickety deck chairs that your boss has deemed unacceptable for the club members, so it now sits in the staff only section of the resort.

"okay, i've got a good one," diane smirks, cheeks flushed a deep burgundy from the booze. "never have I ever...been crushing on somebody in this circle."

the group all lets out oohs. you watch through the glow of the fire as your friends all laugh, teasing one another as a few fingers inevitably flick down—indicating that yes, they've had a crush on someone or other.

matthew, less ashamed than most, grins and puts a finger down like it's a competition. maybe, to him, it is. devin, one of the other lifeguards who watches the kiddy pool, pushes matthew's shoulder, asking him to spill. but matthew just shrugs noncommittally, eyes briefly flickering to yours between rounds of laughter.

then it's joseph, who puts his finger down subtly. nobody notices him, and if they do, they don't question him. but you notice.

and then, just before owen, the tennis instructor who only works weekends, can change the question, you let your finger fall down.

matthew sees it.

joseph sees it.

you keep your eyes trained on the bonfire, letting the heat and smoke blur things that feel too sharp to look at directly.

three months. that’s all you've got.

three scorching, dragging months of smacking golf balls and sandy beach towels. of pretending you're just some regular bev cart girl who laughs with her co-workers like you mean it—like they're already lifelong friends.

three months to keep pretending you don't feel that thing every time they look at you. the country club favorites.

you’ve got three months to figure it out. to get your head on straight. to leave whatever this is behind—in the short grass and fake smiles and overpriced cocktails.

hopefully.

the sun is ungodly this morning. it's the first real heatwave of the season—only two weeks after the country clubs opening—and it's a doozy. not even the breeze hitting your face as you all but whip the golf cart around the course can properly shake the heat. seriously, you've started sweating in creases you didn't realize could sweat.

unfortunately for you, it's only half way through the day. even more unfortunate, the golf course is ridiculously packed and your hands have turned sticky from the amount of mixed drinks you've been pouring—inevitably sloshing over the rim of the throw away cups.

you're halfway done adding the coke into one of your favourite guests rum and coke, when diane stalks towards you, a pep in her step that has you instantly amused.

she leans in close, filling a cup with ice for a guest lingering not too far away, her blonde ponytail tickling your shoulder as she teases. "he's not even trying to hide it."

you blink before shooting her a look. "huh? who?"

diane laughs like it should be obvious. after she pours a shot of vodka over the ice—making that satisfying wet crinkle sound that always reminds you of summer—she shoots a not so subtle look over her shoulder. more specifically, in the direction of the fenced in pool.

"matthew." she confirms with a sing song voice. "he's been staring at you from the tower for 10 minutes. hopefully no one is drowning," diane laughs at her own joke.

you squint through the sun and spot matthew. your eyes meet for a moment and then just as quick, you're looking away. you clear your throat, "he's probably not."

diane hums in the way that lets you know she's onto your bullshit. you don't look up from your drink, instead finishing it up and passing it over to the guest.

"are you two going to bang this summer?" she asks—too loudly—once both guests have left the immediate vicinity around the sleek cart.

"what?" you whisper shout, eyes wide and frantic as you look around to make sure no lingering guests are in ear shot. thankfully, they're not, but that doesn't stop you from shooting your friend an incredulous look. "no."

"why not?" she quips.

you splutter, "because I-" you trail off, words catching in your throat before they can fall. you're not sure what your excuse is. in hindsight, you don't really have one.

"you what?"

you take a resentment tinged sigh, closing the ice bucket cap that diane always leaves open. "I can't."

she follows you as you round to the driver's side of the cart. "seriously? he's totally into you."

"doesn't matter," you wait for her to clamber into the passenger seat before continuing—and she does so with a deadpan look in your direction. clearly diane is already over whatever excuse—as she calls them—you're about to spew.

"there's a friendship there," you turn the key in the ignition, "and the last thing I need is to mess this all up."

she’s silent for a moment, but then she's clicking her tongue. "are we still talking about matthew? you're barley friends."

your mouth falls, "that's not true."

"it is," diane laughs, "does he text you during the winter?"

just as quickly as it fell, your mouth snaps shut. that's enough an answer for your friend to laugh knowingly—right in your face like you've just read her the comment section under a stupid tiktok out loud.

you scoff, hitting the gas pedal harder then necessary— lurching you both forward. "no," you answer, "but I don't text him either. that doesn't mean anything," you shoot her a sideways glance, "we don't even text."

she doesn't say anything to that right away, and it gives you a second to chill out. regardless of diane's accusations, you can't help but be annoyed at her truth. you and matthew don't text outside of the confined walls of the country club.

you follow each other on instagram, sure, but besides the odd comment he will leave under your pictures, you and matthew don't interact. but that doesn't mean you're not friends, right? like you know that his favourite colour is blue and he prefers raisin brain muffins over chocolate because he's a weirdo.

but diane has you questioning that as she hums noncommittally, staring off towards the club while the cart steadily rolls over a hump.

"i'm just saying," she crosses her arms, "I think you guys need to fuck and just…get it out of your system."

"you're ridiculous," you snort as you slowly come to a stop, a group of middle aged men coming into view. and with these temperatures, you're sure they're feigning for another beer.

"maybe," she grins with all her teeth and slips off the seat, skirt swaying dangerously. "hey, I think there's a party at the beach tonight if you're interested. i'm sure pretty boy will be there."

you can't help but roll your eyes, "we'll see."

by the time your shift is over and the drink cooler at the back of the cart is filled with nothing but half melted ice, you've completely forgotten about your conversation with diane. that includes the so called party she mentioned, which she followed up with how is being thrown by dylan— a senior supervisor who's definitely too many years out of college to still be doing this. whatever, he's nice.

diane has also definitely got a hard on for him, but that's a whole other thing.

you pull your hair down from it’s too tight ponytail once you park the cart back in its designated spot. the engine cuts, leaving nothing but the sound of crickets chirping and the distance chatter of the night shift crew packing up their things.

the sun is setting, leaving the course covered in hues of pink and orange. it's still hot and your armpits are moist and your tongue is sandpaper—and you're cutting through the pool area as soon as you spot a familiar head of floppy brown hair still behind the tiki inspired bar.

joseph looks up before you say anything, as if sensing you. an easy smile pulls on his face while his hands stay busy polishing one of the fancy margarita glasses—margarita glasses that you've broke many of back in your first year at the club.

"hey," you breathe, nike golf tank sticking to your skin.

he squints one eye as the sun shines towards you both. "hi."

"have you cleaned the blenders yet?" you ask, a hopeful half smile pulling at your lips. "i've been wanting a strawberry daiquiri since I woke up."

joseph gently puts the glass back on the hanging rack, polishing towel following suit to hang loosely over his shoulder. with his palms down flat on the clean counter, he snorts with amusement. "since you woke up?" he leans in with faux suspicion and lowers his voice conspicuously, "is there something you want to tell me?"

you don't realize that you had subconsciously leaned in closer as well. not until jospeh's eyes flicker towards your dry lips. you blink, a flush covering your cheeks.

"shut up," you mutter, smacking at the back of his hand softly in some stupid rebuttal.

joseph licks his lower lip in an attempt to stop his fond smile form widening. with a deep sigh, he pushes off the counter, "you want an umbrella with it?"

"please."

"give me a minute then."

you watch with a gentle gaze as joseph effortlessly moves behind the bar. every year he manages to get more confident—gone from looking up the ingredients for pina coladas on his phone to mixing drinks with ease. it's a simple task, really, but you can't help but be entranced by him.

joseph finishes adding the ice and mixer into the blender, his back turned to you as it whirls to life. the peace is disturbed, but it's a soothing sound. it makes you think back to your very first summer, not yet old enough to drink but still sneaking off after shifts to the bar. spending time with joseph and him slipping you strawberry daiquiris—your favourite cool treat—while nobody else was looking.

you're smiling like an idiot when he slips the drink across the counter. he's put it in one of those fat belly glasses that you prefer—and like asked, joseph slipped a yellow umbrella in there because he knows it's your favourite colour.

you take three messy sips before your smile has the chance to widen. some slush drops down your chin and you wipe it with the back of your hand. "mhm fuck this is good. you're the best."

a beat passes with you taking another slurp from your daiquiri, savouring the perfect strawberry blend on your tongue while you twirl the stick of the umbrella through the slush.

joseph swallows thickly, grabbing at the back of his neck, "hey, umm—"

"what's up guys?"

you both look back towards the sound of the voice, instantly spotting matthew still clad in his uniform and hair slightly damp from his usual after clock out head dunk. he's smiling, sliding into the spot next to you easily.

joseph's jaw clicks when matthew wraps an arm around your waist.

"matthew, hi." you blink.

"are you guys coming to dylan's thing tonight?" he finishes in a sing song voice, eyes darting between you and joseph, "bonfire and drinks by the beach..."

you breathe a laugh. "I'm not sure," your eyes dart to joseph.

matthew doesn't notice. "c'mon, y/n, what's there to pass up?"

you quirk in eyebrow, amusement coupled with disbelief. "sleeping by a reasonable hour, maybe? I work at 7."

he groans—all dramatic and whiny—while throwing his head back, exposing his throat. matthew shakes you gently, a playful twinkle in his smile as he looks back at you, "don't be a bore." when you don't budge, matthew gestures towards joseph who's still standing behind the bar—shirt stained with coffee. "joe's coming, aren’t you?"

he shrugs noncommittally, "I was thinking about it." joseph's eyes flicker back towards your doubtful eyes, expression softening like it usually does when it comes to you. "hey, I can drive you home tonight if you want to go for a little bit. I'm working early as well."

"alright," you drawl after a moment, matthew making a triumphant noise when you do. you tut your tongue against the roof of your mouth, jabbing your finger into his strong chest. "but only a few hours."

matthew crosses his heart like a boy scout and you can't help but smile. you push him away when he tries to get you to dance in what he claims is celebration, telling him to go properly shower before the bonfire.

once matthew is out of ear shot, you turn back to joseph, bottom lip tucked between your teeth with a combination of hope and guilt. he's gone back to polishing dishes. "you sure you're okay to drive me home?"

he nods with a closed lipped grin, eyes briefly flickering to you. "of course." then he's back to closing.

you mimic his smile, despite sensing some underlying thing that he isn't saying. you clear your throat, "thanks, joey."

the glass clinks against another when he puts in on the shelf. joseph eyes you over his shoulder, "yeah, I can swing by yours and grab you once i've finished up."

you ask him roughly how long it'll take, he tells you 30 minutes. you say you'll be ready and he smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. you walk away from the bar, strawberry daiquiri left half full because suddenly your stomach hurts.

maybe it's because the thought of waking up and still smelling like smoke tomorrow morning is nauseating. or maybe it's because there's something that happened—maybe something you said—that made joseph quiet. 

once you get home and tie of your best up sneakers, you make a be-line for the bathroom. cranking the shower on and striping down. the warm spray welcomes you quickly.

you stay in there longer than you wanted, and your skin is covered in goosebumps before you realize. the water's gone lukewarm, cooling fast around your ankles, but you just stand there, letting it run—letting the thoughts swirl with it.

thoughts about matthew.

thoughts about joseph.

thoughts about how weird you felt after the invite, and how even weirder it felt pretending you didn't notice joseph growing quiet.

eventually, you shut the water off. the room is fogged, mirror blanked out with steam, but you avoid it anyway. you towel off slowly, deliberately—moving through the motions like it'll stall time, like you're not entirely sure what version of yourself you want joseph to see.

you change twice. first into something nice, then something slightly more casual in the form of jean cut offs and a hoodie. when you glance at your reflection—lip balm on, hair still a little damp—you don't change again. it’ll do.

outside, you faintly hear the sound of tires rolling to a soft stop at the curb.

you pause at the window, peeking between the blinds. joseph's there, driver's side door propped open, leaning against the car like he's pretending not to be early. like he hasn't checked his phone twice in the last five minutes—unbeknownst to you, obviously.

you grab your bag, lock the door behind you, and head out before you can change your mind.

he straightens when he sees you—doesn't smile right away, just watches as you walk down the steps.

"you look nice," he says once you're close enough. not too much inflection. careful, like he doesn't want you to read into it. maybe he doesn't.

you think about making a snarky joke about looking bad, but ultimately decide against it.

"thanks." you pull the strap of your bag tighter over your shoulder. "sorry, I took longer than I meant to."

he shrugs. "no rush. you ready?"

you nod, and slide into the passenger seat. the car smells like him—clean laundry and a faint trace of pine from the little air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror. it's comfortable.

joseph pulls away from the curb, fingers tapping lightly on the steering wheel. and even though the sun hasn't fully set, it already feels like the night has started.

the road curves gently along the coastline, windows down just enough to let in the salt-thick breeze. the car hums beneath you, low and steady, the kind of silence that isn't uncomfortable—just a little too aware.

not even the calvin harris playing on the radio can distract you from the unspoken words lingering between you.

you shift in the passenger seat, fingers brushing idly against the fabric of your shorts. "hey," you start, voice quieter than usual. "thanks again. For the ride."

he doesn't take his eyes off the road. "of course."

there's a pause, brief but lingering.

"you okay?" you ask, glancing over at him. his jaw is set in that way it gets when he's thinking too much.

"yeah, i'm fine," he replies after a beat, then flicks his eyes toward you. "are you okay?"

you hesitate just for a moment, swallowing thickly. "yeah. great." another beat. "wait—actually. did I say something? earlier?"

he frowns, confused. "no. why?"

you shift in your seat so you're able to face him a little more. "after matthew invited us to the bonfire... you seemed a little—I don't know? off? was it because you felt like you had to offer me a ride? you didn't have to, joey."

he lets out a breath, almost a laugh. "no. what? god, no."

"okay." your voice softens, searching. "then what?"

"i'm sorry," he says, finally glancing at you for longer than a second. "I didn't realize I was being weird. I promise everything was fine."

you study him—cautiously. The way his fingers drum faintly against the steering wheel. the tight line of his shoulders.

"promise me, joey. because the day you hate me is the day I quit."

joseph's head turns sharply toward you, brows raised in a mixture of amusement and sadness. "I will never hate you."

"pinky promise?"

he grins, just barely, eye strained on the road ahead. "cross my heart."

you smile at that, leaning back in the cushioned seat. "I'll hold you to it."

"wouldn't want anything less."

the car falls quiet again, but this time it's easier.

"can I be honest?" you ask once the song switches to something softer—hozier, you think—gaze trained out the window, watching the sun melt low into the ocean.

"yeah," he says, softly.

"I didn't really want to go to the bonfire."

joseph looks at you, brows pulled. "I can take you home." he offers.

you shake your head quickly. "no. no, don't do that. but... if you weren't coming tonight, I probably would've just stayed home."

"oh," joseph hums. his voice dips, careful. "right. matthew would've still been there though—so you wouldn't of been alone."

"I know." you snort, half a laugh. "he probably would've had me doing shots and dancing on tables—and sue wouldn't love me showing up hungover."

joseph raises a brow. "Is this a weird way of admitting I'm just your scapegoat tonight?"

a slow smirk grows on your face. "you caught me."

"knew it," he teases, and this time, the smile he gives you is real—and it lingers.

the rest of drive passes in quiet comfort—filled with the kind of silence that hangs between two people thinking the same thing and pretending they're not.

when you pull up to the beach, the fire's already lit, casting a flickering glow on the scattered group of your coworkers. laughter drifts through the air, and through the cracked windows—distant but familiar.

joseph kills the engine, glancing at you once before you both reach for the door handles.

outside smells like slat and smoke. like summer memories. diane finds you before your toes even touch the sand, whisking you away for cheap beer and dancing.

you go easily, shooting one more look towards joseph over your shoulder as you do.

time passes and waves hiss quietly against the shore, like the world was holding its breath. flames crack in the center of a circle of mismatched towels and beach chairs, throwing golden light over everyone's faces.

but for joseph, you outshine them all.

he watches you laugh, head thrown back, arms loose as you spin around in the sand—dancing to some house song he's never heard of—the fire lighting the edges of your silhouette like it had fallen in love with you.

from opposite sides of the bonfire, matthew and joseph watch you.

not speaking.

not moving.

just... watching.

matthew's fingers curl around the neck of his beer bottle, the condensation unnoticed, dripping slowly onto the hem of his board shorts. his usual cool detachment—the same one he wore like armor—is missing. In it’s place, something sharp blooms in his chest. he watches as you bump hips with diane, laughter ringing clear and careless.

you aren't performing for anyone. that's the worst part. or maybe the best.

joseph leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. his gaze is softer, something more wistful flickering behind his smile.

across the fire, joseph and matthew lock eyes.

no words. no challenge.

but it is all there.

joseph tilts his head slightly, as if to say you know how I feel.

matthew gives a slow blink in return, his jaw tightening. so do I.

and in the middle of it all, you keep spinning and dancing, catching the edge of someone's hand and twirling out into the night. your hair fans out in a symphony behind you, eyes sparkling with the reflection of the firelight. for one second—just one—you glance toward them both, gaze skimming from one face to the other.

you smile, softly but unsure, looking away before you have to make a decision.

the smoky evening came and went, like most nights that feel heavier than they should. no big moment, no dramatic confrontation—just lingering glances, a few too-long silences, and the quiet buzz of everything unspoken.

in the weeks that followed, things at the country club settled into a strange rhythm. you kept busy—early mornings, sunburnt afternoons, the usual routine of clinking ice and drink orders and narrowly missing estranged golf balls.

matthew started hovering more, turning the charm up just enough for you to be hyperaware of his extra flirting. like usual, his flirtations became habitual, easy to laugh off, though sometimes they landed a little too close to something real—pulling at your heart strings of confusion.

joseph, on the other hand, kept his distance—not cold, just careful. like he was giving you space that you didn't ask for. your conversations stayed light, but the pauses between them grew heavier, like both of you were waiting for the other to say something first.

before you knew it—just like that—it was graduation day. the absurd heat made even worse by the shoulder to shoulder crowd, the speeches, the sea of caps and gowns. it was all here.

the ceremony is over before it really sinks in. like a stereotypical movie, caps were tossed into the air, programs crumpled and left on the uncomfortable plastic chairs, and students scattered like confetti across the lawn—hugging, laughing, posing for too many photos with too little shade.

you weave through the crowd, gown clinging to your damp skin, scanning faces until—

"there she is!"

your moms voice rings over the bustling crowd. she's already halfway to you, arms wide, dress swaying and sunglasses sliding down her nose.

"oh, honey," she gushes, pulling you in. "you were amazing up there. so poised. so grown up."

"I barely walked in a straight line," you laugh into her shoulder.

"you looked confident," your dad adds, stepping from behind your mom with an easy grin. "you had the walk. and we've been to a lot of graduations this year." he adds cheekily. you send him a deadpanned—yet amused look. they've been to no other graduations.

you catch movement behind them, and someone lets out a dramatic sigh.

"classic parent moment." matthew walks over, iced coffee in hand, sunglasses (probably not his) perched in his hair with a teasing grin on his face. "but seriously, can we talk about how ridiculously pretty you looked up there?"

you turn, arching a brow. "thanks, matthew. that almost sounded sincere."

"it was sincere," he chimes, giving you a once-over that's barely disguised. "what, I can't admire a woman with a degree?”

"you’re just saying that because I'm finally smarter than you."

"oh, finally?" he grins. "I've been counting down the days. I like them intimidating."

you roll your eyes but can't help the way your smile tugs wider.

diane slides up beside him, handing you a bouquet and a cold bottle of water. "hydrate before you pass out and ruin the moment. also—congrats, grad. we are all proud of you."

"thanks," you says, taking both. "I'm really glad you came." more like, you’re really glad you could all get it off work. but tomato tamoto.

"please," diane says, waving a hand. "any excuse to wear wedges instead of tennis shoes and cry in public."

you laugh, tucking the flowers close to your chest. they smell like something earthy and equally sweet. after a beat, and your mom fussing over your hair, you glance around, scanning the crowd again—casually, automatically.

looking for something—someone—you know won’t be here.

"joe stuck at work?" matthew asks, a little too casually. immediately you know that the answer is already known to him.

you just nod, adjusting the lapel on your gown. "yeah. got scheduled at the swim up bar last-minute."

he makes a face. "sucks, though."

"yeah," you agree, quietly. there's a pause, just long enough for something unspoken to hang in the air.

"well," matthew hums, stepping closer again, "guess that makes me the number one draft pick for the day."

you lets out a dry laugh, but his words are nothing short of dry. they’re loaded and deep cut and makes your face feel numb. "Is that a real title or are you just making things up again?"

"making it up," he says, smirking. "but I look good on your arm either way."

you give him a sideways look, half amused, half wary. "we’re taking one picture. don’t make this weird."

"I make everything weird," he says brightly, already sliding an arm around your waist. it’s heavy and familiar. "It's part of the charm."

the camera clicks, your parents beaming in the background, diane pretending not to care that her hair is sticking to her lip gloss. even as you lean into the photo, smiling and straight posture, your thoughts pull somewhere else.

more accurately—to someone who would've said less but meant more. someone who would've stood off to the side, quiet and steady, and made you laugh without even trying.

the guilt of wishing for somebody else gnaws at you hard when matthew squeezes your waist, whispering another congrats against your ear. this should be enough. so why isn’t it?

the following week passes in a blur of sunscreen, drink orders, and heatwaves that leave everything sticky and sun-dazed. you get sunburnt once and matthew teases you about looking like a lobster for days afterwards.

speaking of matthew and his teasing�� he’s been around more than usual. still charming, still annoying, and toeing that line between flirty and maybe something else.

joseph's... still joseph. he’s still showing up with your favorite granola bars when you work the same shift, still leaning in too close when he's joking, still looking at you like he's about to say something, then doesn't.

things between you feel light, but up in the air. not distant—just paused, like a conversation mid-sentence.

it’s on the thursday that the next big shift between you happens—when the sky finally cracks open and the rain hits hard—drumming against the clubhouse roof in waves, soaking the fairways and sending most of the members home early.

It's a rain shift. slow, grey, and quieter than usual. it’s your favourite kind of weather, regardless of the boredom that threatens to lull you into staying in bed all day.

when you arrive for your shift in the late afternoon, you automatically find yourself heading toward the bar. like suspected, joseph is already there, wiping down the counter, hair damp and curling at the edges, like he just barely made it in from outside.

he looks up and grins, and suddenly all the weird tension that’s been lingering between you in the past few weeks disappears. "you bring the storm?" joseph teases.

you smile, stepping behind the counter. joseph is already passing you a granola bar. "maybe. thought we could use the break."

and just like that, the day stretches out in front of you—soft, open, and full of the kind of quiet that feels like anything could happen.

hours pass and heavy rain still patters steadily against the wide windows of the otherwise quiet country club. outside, the greens are left soaked and the pool empty. Inside, the break room is warm, quiet, and smells faintly of leather and coffee. a radio hums low with old lana del rey, barely audible from where you and joseph sit, backs pressed against the worn leather couch cushions.

you're polishing some of the clubs that have been sitting in the lounge for weeks—a task you've been meaning to do. the staff polo you're wearing is barley providing enough heat, but you don't dare get up and look for an abonded hoodie in the lost and found. not when joseph is sitting so close his thigh is almost pressed against yours.

joseph is wiping down clubs as well. when you told him that he didn't need to do your job for you, he sent you an easy smile and cracked some joke about nobody showing up for margaritas anyways. so here you both are.

he doesn't look up from the head of the club, "you think anyone's crazy enough to come hit balls in this weather?"

you smile, "mr. hollenbeck played through a thunderstorm last summer. swore it helped his slice—but I think that was the beers talking."

"the lightning probably scared it straight," he mutters knowingly.

you let out a small laugh—the kind you try and stifle but ultimately cannot. "I guess we should be grateful for the break. don't you get tired of making 100 strawberry daiquiris a shift?"

joseph pauses, a grin pulling at his lips. "nope. you're the only one I make them for."

"the old ladies and rich range rover moms too posh for them?" you and joseph share a look at your teasing observation—brief and charged. you glance away first, picking up at new club to start the process again.

a moment passes and then joseph is breaking the lull of rain patter and crackling bluetooth speaker in the corner of the room. "you uh...got plans after? since you're not going to buried in tee times?"

you speak too quickly, "just—laundry. wild stuff." another beat passes, regret flickering across your features as you shoot a tentative look at joseph. "why?"

"just figured," he shrugs as he continues, "rainy days usually call for something dangerously exciting. like...grilled cheese and re-watching harry potter for the millionth time," joseph's tone trails of teasingly.

"dangerous indeed."

you share another gentle look, one that seems to increase your heart rate and warm the tops of your ears. over the pattering rain, the song fades before switching, an old avril lavigne classic filling the space.

joseph hums softly—thoughtfully—dropping the now clean club back into its caddy. "this song reminds me of being in public school," he spreads his legs a little more, shorts tightening over his thighs in a way that draws attention. he looks over at you, "roaming around way too late. headphones on. pretending like I knew what I was doing."

you laugh gently, "did you?"

"gosh no," he laughs as well, deep and genuine. "I thought trying to grow a bad moustache would make me interesting. spoiler alert—very far from it."

"wow," you say, faux impressed and full of tease, "that's bold." your shoulder nudges his playfully. hands brush, lingering for a second too long.

your eyes meet again, and you inhale sharply, looking away before you do something crazy like kiss him. the rain is making you soft. a soft laugh passes through you vanilla flavoured lips, "this song used to be my sisters favourite. we'd lie on her bed, way after we should've been asleep, whispering to one another about all the edgy things we were going to do once we were adults."

joseph's eyes twinkle with amusement and curiosity, "like what?"

"like," you pause and think. "marry a rich man and vacation in paris. buying expensive shoes and bags."

"you ever get to vacation in paris?"

you shake your head, "no. I went to school and came back here for the summer to serve overpriced mixed drinks to creepy men."

"if it's any consolation," joseph murmurs after a thoughtful lull, "I think there'd still be creepy men in paris."

you both smile, intimate and gentle. similar to a cozy sweater on a chilly fall morning. the music shifts to something slower—the old taylor swift ballad warming your belly like chicken soup.

"do you ever think about leaving the club?" his question is soft. curious.

"sometimes," you answer honestly, a crack of lightning flashing somewhere in the distance. neither of you look. "then I remember the free snacks and how nobody really bothers us after 5 p.m. kind of hard to give that up."

"yeah," a smile stretches across joseph's face, knee bouncing against yours playfully, "plus, you'd miss me terribly."

"mhm. terribly." your tone is lively and full of playfulness, eyes flickering to joseph's with a certain kind of truth. because on the stormy day, when half the staff never even bothered to show up and the rest left early, it's joseph who stayed with you and polished dusty clubs.

it's joseph who let you connect your phone to the system, and made you a coffee when you mentioned feeling chilled.

it's joseph who sits with you now, all eager eyes and listening ears.

your shift continued in that cozy, rainy air. both you and joseph don't see a single member of the club, meaning you spend the rest of your shifts listening to music and talking in hushed tones through soft grins.

you end up sitting close enough that's you're practically joined at the hip. neither of you move. you don't want to.

after that day, things between you and joseph stayed easy—still teasing, still light—but with a new kind of quiet threaded between the jokes. something softer. something neither of you push on too hard.

the summer rolls on. the club continues to get busier. fireworks start to show up in grocery store windows and plans for the fourth of july come together in that half-organized, half-chaotic way they always did—someone bringing sparklers, someone else forgetting the matches.

but the time the sun dipped low on july 4th, the grill was smoking, the air was thick with bug spray and country music, and you was standing in the grass, watching the sky change color.

somewhere behind you, joseph laughs at something a member of the club says. you don’t turn around—just smile to yourself and wait for the fireworks to start. and when they do finally start, lighting the sky in various colours and filling the area with a smoky haze, joseph stands close to you. close enough that suddenly the fireworks in the sky pale in comparison to the ones in your chest.

once the guests have all left the club, and fireworks are nothing but a distant crackle across the lake, you and your coworkers find yourselves tipsy and just loose enough to think swimming in your clothes is a good idea.

the pool lights glow a soft blue beneath the surface, casting shadows that ripple across the tiled edges. the air smells like chlorine and leftover barbecue smoke, and someone's bluetooth speaker hums low from a distance—indistinct music, mostly drowned out by the sound of splashing and laughter.

you surface with a breathless laugh, slicking your hair back as matthew floats up beside you.

"you almost got water up my nose," you huff, blinking at him through wet lashes.

"please," he grins, wading closer, "you've been trying to drown me all night."

you shrug. "you probably deserved it."

"probably," he agrees easily, watching you a little too closely. "but I'll accept my punishment if it means you'll keep laughing like that."

you nudge him with you shoulder the best you can underwater, rolling your eyes. "that’s so cheesy."

"I know," he says, not even pretending to be sorry.

you both drift a little, the water lazily pushing you toward the shallow end. somewhere behind you, diane and jake and a few others are setting off sparklers, their laughter distant and warm. you’re not sure where joseph is, and you stop yourself from searching.

"It's nice when the place is empty like this," matthew says after a moment. "no guests. no polos. just... us."

you hum in agreement. "kinda makes you forget we're on the clock half the time."

"exactly." he glances at you, then adds, more softly, "makes it easier to be real."

your eyes flicker towards him, brows lifting. "Is this your lead-in to saying something serious?"

"maybe." he chuckles, hands briefly brushing yours under the surface. "or maybe I just want you to admit you've been flirting with me since, like, memorial day."

you laugh, tilting her head. "I think you started that."

"true," he says, wading closer. "but I liked how you kept it going."

there’s a beat. just a flicker of quiet between you.

then, he leans in.

It's soft—unrushed. matthew’s hands find your waist underwater, and much to your surprise, you don't pull away. your lips meet in a warm and unfamiliar way. It lasts a few seconds. long enough to register the shape of it, the surprise of it.

when you part, both of you just kind of... pause.

matthew is the first one to speak, lips quirking faintly. "okay, that was..."

"yeah," you cut in gently, half-smiling. "It wasn't bad, it just..."

"didn’t feel right," he finishes.

you nod, a sad smile on your lips. "yeah."

matthew lets out a long breath, more relieved than anything. "okay. cool. so I'm not crazy."

"no," you reassure with a soft laugh. "you’re just...“

not him.

even thought you don’t say it, recognition flickers across matthew’s features, and thankfully he doesn’t expand on that. "still friends?" he asks after a beat.

"of course," you say, bumping his shoulder again. "but maybe stop trying to kiss me in pools."

he grins. "no promises."

before either of you can blink, jake is pushing another member of the staff into the pool, soaking him again. the rest of your friends follow soon after, abandoning their beers by the loungers.

matthew joins the chaos like a moth to a flame, laughing like nothing happened.

not feeling like engaging in the game of chicken that has broken out, you climb out of the warm pool with a gentle yet reserved sigh. your hair drips down your back, cold against your skin. you wrap a towel around yourself before goosebumps have the chance to break out.

the staff who aren’t in the pool are still gathered around the nearby fire pit, cracking open white claws and laughing like the night doesn't feel weird.

you spot him right away—joseph—leaning against the golf cart, arms crossed, eyes locked on the ground like he's willing it to swallow him whole.

you walk over slowly, unsure of what to say, but needing to say something anyway.

"hey."

he doesn't look at you. "hey."

there’s a beat of silence. you shift your weight from one foot to the other, eyebrows drawing together at his clipped tone.

"you okay?" you ask.

joseph gives a half-shrug. "shouldn’t I be asking you that? you've had a busy night."

you frown. "what’s that supposed to mean?"

he finally looks up at you, but there's something sharp in his expression now. something you doesn't usually see from him.

"nothing. just—you and matthew. That was... quick."

your stomach turns in a way that has you taking a step back. "we’re you watching us?"

"didn’t exactly have to try," he says, pushing off the cart. "you’re not subtle."

you cross your arms, towel cinched tighter. "why do you even care?"

"I don't," he says too fast, too defensive. "I just thought—I don't know. maybe I expected better."

"better?" you repeat, stung. "you don't get to say that, joey. you’ve been acting like none of this—whatever this is—matters."

"oh, come on," he snaps. "I show up. I drive you home. I bring you snacks you pretend not to like. but yeah—clearly I don't care."

"you never say anything,” you fire back. "you just…hover. and then you act weird when someone else does something you didn't have the guts to."

joseph goes quiet at that, jaw tight, looking anywhere but you.

"forget it," you mutter, turning away while the weight of the night sits heavy on your chest. tears begin to sting your eyes. "I don't even know why I tried."

"yeah," he says quietly. "me neither."

the silence between you says everything you won't. the fireworks in the distance continue to crackle, way too cheerful for how everything feels now.

the days that follow is a masterclass in avoidance.

you keep your shifts tight and efficient—eyes forward, head down, smile on when it counts. you and joseph orbit around each other like two planets with just enough gravity to make things weird, but not enough to pull each other in.

every shared space is heavy with silence—the break room, the pool, and the parking lot when you have no choice but to walk pass one another—all filled with…nothing. every passing glance, ones you used to look toward, now feel like a near miss.

he’s there, of course. always around. stocking the bar. replacing empty gatorade coolers. laughing with members in that low, familiar way that makes you grit your teeth more than you want to admit.

but you don't talk.

not about the 4th. not about the kiss with matthew. not about what was said under the fireworks and swallowed by the dark. the words that completely shattered you and left you sobbing alone in the mothers only bathroom at the club.

so when a late friday afternoon restock run ends with both of you stepping into the supply closet at the same time—joseph reaching for limes, you grabbing some towels to stock the shelves before clocking out—and the door swings shut behind you with a definitive click... it's almost comically inevitable.

you both freeze.

joseph tries the knob, and like you already knew, it’s locked.

you sigh. "of course."

he doesn't say anything, just leans back against a shelf, arms crossed, gaze on the ceiling like he's praying for divine intervention.

the silence between you stretches. heavy. crowded. unbearable.

finally, you speak. "we're really not gonna talk about it, are we?"

joseph glances at you, jaw tense and eyes dancing with something that seems like guilt. "didn’t think you wanted to."

"well, surprise." you fold your arms. "I'm tired of pretending everything's fine.”

he looks at you then—really looks at you and you fight hard to not shy away.

"yeah," he says. "me too." a heavy beat passes between you, the vending machine humming lowly in the hallway. joseph shifts his weight from one foot to another, running a hand through his messy hair, “I was a dick."

you arch a brow, keeping your arms crossed. "what time?"

he laughs softly, shaking his head with disbelief coupled with guilt. "I'm sorry. for the last few weeks, and especially at the pool. I saw you and matthew kiss, and I just... something came over me. Instead of being normal about it, I lashed out and hurt your feelings."

you study him, eyes steady. "yeah, you did."

joseph bites his bottom lip, looking a little embarrassed. "and then the next morning I wanted to apologize—properly—but you didn’t even look at me because you were talking to him, and all that jealous stuff got me all flustered again."

"jealous?" you repeat, surprised but amused.

he grins, that shy, goofy smile you’ve seen before. "yeah. I kind of like spending time with you."

your lips twitch up into a smile. "I kind of like spending time with you too, joey."

he reaches out, brushing a sweat damp strand of hair behind your ear. "so, am I forgiven?"

you quirks an eyebrow, smirking. "you’re forgiven—but only if you bring me a pastry tomorrow for breakfast."

"deal," he says immediately, dropping his hand from your face. you miss his touch immediately.

"and I'm totally going to tease you about the whole you getting weird about me kissing matthew thing, by the way."

he groans, shaking his head with a laugh. "please, don't. reliving it is bad enough."

your smile softens. "just so you know though, that kiss was nothing. matthew and I decided to stay friends."

"good," he says quietly, relief threading through his voice. "yeah, that's…good."

you stay close in the cramped closet, the tension finally melting into something warm and honest. outside, diane laughs with matthew, the sound cracking through the walls. they’re coming closer—perhaps looking for you.

and you assume correctly, because seconds later the door handle jiggles before finally releasing, a wave of air conditioning washing over your damp skin.

the last weeks of summer that follow your closet chat with joseph feel different—easier, brighter. the awkward edges between you soften, replaced by quiet smiles, inside jokes, and stolen moments that don't need words. it’s back to normal.

matthew still circles around, but the tension between you has settled into a comfortable friendship.

summer heat starts to fade, the sun dipping lower in the sky each evening, casting longer shadows across the pristine greens. the buzz of the club turns into a slow rhythm of winding down: fewer guests, quieter shifts, and more time to breathe.

then, as the last weekend of the season rolls in, diane rounds up the usual crew for one final celebration—an end-of-summer barbecue by the pool, just for the workers.

you step onto the grass, the scent of grilled burgers and fresh-cut grass mingling in the warm air. string lights twinkle overhead, casting a golden glow over the familiar faces—friends who have become something more.

the evening flows comfortably and easy. dylan making everyone do shots of tequila that leave you sucking the life out of a lime until the taste dulls. matthew flirting and laughing loudly. joseph sitting across the bonfire, catching your eyes and sending you gentle, knowing grins.

and of course, diane makes everyone play a party game. the bonfire burns lower than the start, glowing like a heart still beating. everyone is sitting in a loose circle, half-tipsy on hard seltzer and sugar-rushed from too many marshmallows.

"truth or dare?"

the question slowly makes its way around the circle in lazy spirals, daring confessions and half-hearted stunts giving the group something to laugh about.

you sit cross-legged in the sand, arms wrapped around your knees, smile warm but wary. joseph still sits across from you, his hoodie bunched at the sleeves, eyes mostly on the fire—but always flicking back to you when he thinks no one is paying attention.

but people always notice.

especially matthew who is lounging just beside you, twirling a beer cap between his fingers with an easy smile on his face.

then comes the moment.

"joseph," starts lila, one of the servers at the clubs restaurant, a bit too giddy, a bit too knowing. "I've got one for you."

he raises a brow. "hit me."

lila grins. "beginning of summer, we played 'never have I ever,' remember? and you put a finger down when someone asked if you had a crush on someone here. so... who was it?"

the circle erupted into whoops and "oooohs," heads turning toward him as they wait the answer.

joseph didn't blink. doesn’t even hesitate.

"y/n."

silence, thick and hot.

even the fire seemed to hold its breath.

you blink once, seemingly frozen. your smile didn't vanish, but it changes—turning fragile at the corners, like you’ve weren’t sure if you should of known or not. did you know? really know?

matthew lets out a low chuckle from beside you. "yeah," he hums, voice dry and careless, "she's definitely grown up this summer."

it was meant to be light. funny, even. but joseph’s head turns to fast that it feels wrong. "It's not just this summer."

the admission cuts through the air like flint against stone.

you glance between them—joseph, tight-jawed and steady, and matthew, now watching the fire like it owed him answers. the two of the golden boys, always battling, even when the war has finished.

your voice is barely a whisper, but it still carries. "that’s a lot to put out there, joey."

"i’m not sorry," he says. not cocky. not pushy. just... honest.”

the game sputters. someone nervously tried to pick it back up, and the circle started moving again. but the energy had shifted. the night wasn't playful anymore—it was charged. eventually, after a few more drinks and some one getting dared to skinny dip, everyone seems to forget.

a while later, people began peeling away from the fire—some to the shore, some toward the coolers. some going home. matthew stands, muttering something about grabbing another drink, and doesn’t look back.

he knows.

and so do you. so you stay by the dwindling flames, your toes covered in sand.

joseph stays too. except now, he stands, but instead of leaving like you fear he may, he comes towards you, dropping down to the sand beside you.

you’re close but not touching—what’s left of the fire between is just warm enough to make the silence feel intimate.

"you didn't have to say it like that," you say softly, staring into the flames.

"I didn't want to hide it anymore."

you look at him then, really look—your eyes are surely unreadable, lips parted like you have a thousand thoughts trying to climb out at once.

"I don't know what to do with it," you admit. "with you."

he nods once. "I'm not asking you to do anything. just... know it."

you smile then. sad, maybe? or maybe just complicated. it’s the kind of smile you carry around when someone means more than you expected them to.

"I do," you whisper.

joseph doesn’t push.

you don’t move.

the silence between them stretches for a beat.

"I count down the days until the country club," he admits, not looking away this time. "every year. like clockwork."

you blink at his voice, surprised. “why?”

he shrugs, like it's no big deal, but there's something in his eyes that says otherwise. "because when I get to see you, I can actually breathe. like, for real."

he shifts a little closer, shoulder brushing yours, and the space between you feels smaller than it has in weeks.

"I want more than just the country club with you," he says, voice rough. "not just these few months, or the shift schedules, or whatever this is right now. I want the parts after all that. the parts where it's not just summer."

naturally, your heart skips, but you don’t rush to answer. not yet. Instead, you let the moment hang, heavy but honest.

"I've felt that too," you say finally, voice soft. "I just didn't know if you did."

he smiles, the kind that's shy and real. "yeah. I did. I do."

your eyes meet and hold—no big speeches, no fireworks, just something quiet and true.

and when he reaches out, brushing your hair back, it feels like the start of something neither of you need to overthink anymore.

[zzbubblegumbitchzz]

hii, can u do a another finsta thing with luke , or texts w him? love them lol

ABSOLUTELY THESE ARE FUN!! Luke texts coming in hot!

bonus ft Jack Hughes

[blakeswritingimagines]

Coming Home

Summary: Being his loud roommate works out for you when he returns home.

Warnings: Roommate! Reader, Flirty! Clayton, Teasing, Neediness, Masturbation, Fem leaning reader, Dirty talk, Protected sex, Snuggles

Word Count: 3.8k

You wake up from your nap and find Clayton, sitting on the couch, playing video games. His gaze is fixed on the TV screen, but every now and then, he glances your way with a sly grin. With his lean body, tousled hair, and piercing blue eyes, Clayton always manages to make you a little weak in the knees. "Hey, sleepyhead. Finally awake?" You stretch and rub the sleep from your eyes, trying to act nonchalant. "Yeah, just taking a little power nap." You can't help but notice the way Clayton's muscles ripple beneath his t-shirt as he shifts on the couch. He sets down the controller and turns towards you, his gaze lingering a little too long on your curves. "You've been sleeping for hours. I was starting to think you died in there."

"Oh, shut up." You jokingly roll your eyes and sit up, your hair a tousled mess. Clayton's smirk only widens as he leans back against the couch. "You still look like you just rolled out of bed. It's a good look for you." He pauses for a moment, eyeing you almost hungrily before focusing on the screen once more. "Though I prefer the just-got-out-of-shower look." You can feel yourself heating up at his comment. Clayton has always been shamelessly flirty with you since you moved in, but lately, it feels like he's turning it up a notch. "You always have to make everything dirty, don't you?" You give him a playful shove, but your touch lingers a tad too long before moving towards the kitchen. He laughs, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, you know me. I can't help it when I'm around you." Clayton pats the couch beside him, an obvious invitation. "Come sit with me. I need moral support to beat this level." You consider his proposal for a moment, knowing full well that sitting next to him will definitely complicate things, but you're drawn to him like a magnet. With a sigh, you get up and settle down beside him, your thigh brushing against his. "You're hopeless, you know that?"

Clayton doesn't even bother hiding his satisfied grin as you sit next to him. He places a possessive hand on your thigh, his touch burning through your sweatpants. "Just keep me company. I need the encouragement." His gaze flicks back to the game, but his thumb absently rubs circles on your skin as he waits through a cut scene. You can't deny the way your heart races from his touch, and despite your attempts to maintain composure, you find yourself leaning into him. The heat radiating off his muscled frame is intoxicating, and you're suddenly hyper-aware of every little movement he makes. "I'm not sure my encouragement will help you win," you remark, your voice a little breathless. "Oh, trust me, it will." Clayton shoots you a cocky grin as the action resumes on the screen. His fingers dance across the controller, effortlessly maneuvering his character through challenging obstacles. "Just stay right there and look pretty for me." Despite the butterflies in your stomach, you can't help but roll your eyes at his cockiness. "Is that all I'm good for? Looking pretty?" You try to sound indignant, but there's a hint of playfulness in your tone. Clayton's hand tightens on your thigh as he lets out a teasing chuckle. "No, not at all. You're also great at distracting me, nagging me, and stealing my hoodies." He glances at you with a wolfish grin, his gaze dropping to the oversized hoodie that you're currently wearing. "Speaking of which, that's mine, you know."

You feign obliviousness, innocently looking down at the sweatshirt. "Is it really? It must have ended up in my laundry pile by mistake." You can't help but smirk as you know damn well you took it on purpose. "Accident, huh? More like a strategic theft." Clayton's hand slips beneath the fabric of the hoodie, his calloused fingers grazing your bare skin. "It looks better on you anyway." The possessive touch sends a shiver down your spine, making it increasingly difficult to focus on the game. You attempt to compose yourself, but your body betrays you, arching into his touch. "You just like to see me in your clothes." You shift closer to him, your head almost resting on his broad shoulder. Your proximity only makes the already heightened tension in the room even thicker. Clayton's gaze momentarily drifts from the screen, his hand still possessive on your thigh. "Hey, remember I have that roadie coming up this week?" He nonchalantly mentions, his thumb idly rubbing circles on your skin through the fabric of the hoodie. You nod, suddenly feeling a pang of disappointment at the reminder of his upcoming absence. "Yeah, I remember. How long will you be gone this time?" You try to sound nonchalant, but there's a hint of anxiety in your voice of not getting to see him everyday like you've grown used to.

"Same as usual, probably," he responds casually, seemingly oblivious to the effect his words have on you. He turns his attention back to the game, his grip on the controller firming up as the level intensifies. "You gonna miss me?" There's a hint of amusement in his tone, as if he already knows the answer. You roll your eyes, masking your vulnerability with sarcasm. "Oh, of course. I'll miss your annoying jokes, your constant flirting, and your endless mess-making." You playfully nudge his shoulder, secretly cursing yourself for how much you'll actually miss him when he's gone. He laughs, unphased by your teasing. "Yeah, yeah. You'll be bored out of your mind without me around to entertain you." Clayton pauses the game momentarily and wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his side. He drops a feather-light kiss on the top of your head, his voice dropping to a more serious tone. "Seriously, though. Don't cause any trouble while I'm gone." You soften slightly at his concern, but you can't help but snark back, "Oh, please. I can handle myself just fine without you." You snuggle against him, secretly relishing the warmth radiating from his body. "But I make no promises. You know I thrive on chaos."

"Oh, I'm well aware of your chaos magnet tendencies." He chuckles, his hand resuming its lazy pattern of rubbing your thigh. "But try to keep it to a minimum, alright? I don't want to return to a smoking crater where my apartment used to be." He mock-glances at you with feigned seriousness, his eyes betraying the amusement that lies beneath. You laugh at his over-the-top warning. "Fine, fine. I'll try not to burn the place down in your absence. No promises, though." You lean your head against his shoulder, the familiar scent of his cologne mingling with sweat clinging to him. The easy banter and comfortable closeness make it all too easy to forget about his upcoming departure.

A few days later, Clayton is in his room, packing his things for the roadie. He's tossing clothes and essentials into a duffle bag, trying to make sure he hasn't forgotten anything. You lean against the doorframe, watching him with a mixture of anticipation and slight sadness. "Almost done?" you ask, arms folded as you observe the organized chaos on his bed. Clayton glances at you, a crooked smile on his face. "Yeah, just about," he replies, folding a few shirts and placing them neatly in the bag. "Why, you gonna miss me already?" There's a hint of teasing in his voice, paired with a touch of genuine curiosity. You feign nonchalance, rolling your eyes at the same time. "Miss you? Nah," you scoff. "I'll probably throw a party while you're gone." You try to sound indifferent, but the thought of not having him around leaves a nagging ache in your chest. He smirks at your attempt to hide your emotions. "Right. I bet your 'party' would consist of you and a bunch of your stuffed animals watching sappy movies all weekend." He zips up the duffle bag and slings it over his shoulder, approaching you with a sly smile. You glare at him, though there's no heat behind it. "And if it does? Not like you'd be here to ruin it with your obnoxious commentary and terrible movie taste." You cross your arms, refusing to admit that you secretly cherish his annoying habits.

He chuckles, stepping closer until he's hovering over you. "You know you love my commentary." He lifts a hand and pokes your pouting bottom lip. "Admit it. You'll miss me." His proximity is suddenly overwhelming, the scent of his cologne and the warmth of his body causing your resolve to crumble. You try to maintain your stubborn facade, but you can feel your defenses collapsing. You swat away his hand that's teasing your lip. "In your dreams," you retort weakly, avoiding his gaze. The nearness of him is making it incredibly hard to keep up your act. He leans in, his breath warm against your ear. "I bet you'll even sleep in one of my hoodies while I'm gone," he murmurs, his voice low and teasing. "You think I haven't noticed how many of them you've stolen?" His hand slips beneath the oversized hoodie you're currently wearing, his fingers skimming the bare skin of your waist. A shiver runs through you as his touch ignites a familiar ache deep within. You lean into him in spite of yourself, a quiet sigh escaping your lips. "I only take them for warmth," you say, your protest sounding weak even to your own ears.

He laughs softly, his thumb tracing a lazy pattern on the skin of your hip. "Right. That's why you always pick my most worn-out, softest hoodies. Has nothing to do with the fact that they smell like me, right?" He ducks his head, his lips barely grazing your cheek, sending a jolt straight through you. Your breath stutters in your chest, and you curse your body's traitorous reaction to his words. "Mere coincidence," you manage to whisper, even as your hands find their way to the front of his T-shirt, fisting the fabric. You're losing this battle, and you both know it. With his bag packed and his mind already on the road, Clayton gives you a final, lingering smile. "I'll be back before you know it," he says, his hand coming up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His touch sends a shiver down your spine, and you're acutely aware of the imminent absence that awaits. He gives you one last peck on the forehead before reluctantly pulling away. "Be good for me while I'm gone, yeah?" You manage a weak nod, fighting the urge to lunge forward and cling to him like a desperate koala. Instead, you force a casual tone to your voice. "Yeah, yeah. I'll be fine. Don't worry about me." Secretly, though, you're already envisioning countless lonely nights, drowning yourself in mindless movies and his stolen hoodies.

The apartment feels unusually empty without Clayton's presence. You're sprawled on your bed, scrolling through your phone aimlessly. There's a void in the space where he usually occupies, leaving you feeling oddly isolated. You absentmindedly fiddle with the sleeve of one of his hoodies, the familiar fabric a poor substitute for his warmth. Every movie you start feels lackluster and boring. You find yourself checking your phone more frequently than usual, hoping for a text or call from him, despite knowing he's likely busy with the roadie. With a frustrated sigh, you toss aside your phone and stare up at the ceiling. The silence in the apartment feels oppressive, amplifying the thoughts and longing churning inside you. You find yourself replaying moments with Clayton in your mind, the way his touch ignited your skin, the sound of his laugh, and the way his gaze lingered on you. Loneliness begins to seep into your bones, leaving you missing him more than you'd ever care to admit. Lost in your solitude, your mind begins to wander, fueled by memories of Clayton. A low ache starts to build within you, the lack of his presence only fueling the growing need. Without even fully realizing what you're doing, your hand wanders beneath the hem of the stolen hoodie, skimming over skin that yearns for his touch. Your breath hitches as your fingertips graze sensitive areas, and his face dances across your mind's eye. You lose yourself in the memory of his touch, desperately trying to recreate his presence in your thoughts.

Your breathing grows ragged, your hand moving in a steady rhythm as you let yourself immerse in the fantasy. You imagine Clayton's body pressing against you, his touch leaving a trail of fire across your skin. The absence of him becomes even more palpable, and you find yourself craving his presence more than ever. The quiet of the apartment only intensifies the ache deep within you, and his absence leaves you needy and desperate. You close your eyes tightly, picturing his smirk, the glint in his eyes, and the way he whispers in your ear. The images fuel your desire, making it difficult to distinguish truth from imagination. Still, it doesn't compare to how he could make you feel with just a single touch.

Your heart racing as you picture the scene unfolding. You can almost feel the phantom sensation of his strong hands gripping your thighs, holding you up effortlessly as he grinds against you. You moan softly, free hand sliding down your stomach teasingly. Your fingers dip beneath the waistband of your panties, brushing against your slick folds. "I'm so wet for you already, baby. Touching myself, imagining it's your fingers inside me, stretching me open… Ah!" A gasp escapes your lips as you circle your clit, the coil of tension building rapidly in your core. Clayton came home early from a roadie with his hockey team, he silently unlocked the door and entered the apartment he shared with you. He found the door to your room closed and could barely hear soft moans coming from it. He smirked and decided to eavesdrop for a moment. Your fingers move faster, plunging in and out of your soaked entrance as you imagine the feeling of being stretched and filled by him. Soft cries of pleasure spill from your lips, echoing in the empty apartment. "Yes, just like that! I want you so bad, need you inside me," you pant, hips rocking against your hand desperately. "Want to feel you throbbing deep in my tight heat." The obscene wet sounds of your fingers pumping fill the air along with your increasingly loud moans. Your free hand comes up to roughly palm your breast, pinching and rolling the stiff peak through your thin shirt. "Don't stop! Wanna cum on your big cock."

Unable to resist any longer, Clayton quietly opens the bedroom door, revealing you sprawled out on the bed, lost in ecstasy. His eyes darken with lust at the sight before him - your soft sounds, parted lips, the lewd sounds of your fingers pumping into your dripping cunt. "Well well, looks like someone started without me," he purrs, stalking towards the bed. In one swift motion, he yanks your hand away and replaces it with his own thick fingers, plunging them knuckle-deep into your sopping wet heat. "Fuck, you're absolutely drenched, baby. All this for me?" His other hand makes quick work of his belt and zipper, freeing his erection. "Now this is a welcome home I could get used to, pretty." Your eyes fly open in shock and arousal as Clayton suddenly appears, replacing your fingers with his much larger ones. A high-pitched keen escapes you at the sudden intrusion, walls clenching greedily around him. "Ahh fuck, Clay! Yes, all for you. Been thinking about you all day," you moan shamelessly, spreading your thighs wider in invitation. Your gaze locks onto his impressive length bobbing heavily between his legs and you lick your lips hungrily. "Need it so bad." Sitting up, you scoot to the edge of the bed and reach for him, wrapping slender fingers around his thick shaft. You pump him slowly, admiring the way his skin feels like velvet over steel.

Clayton groans deeply as your small hand wraps around his throbbing cock, giving him a slow pump. His hips twitch forward, seeking more of your touch. "Mmmm, that's it baby. Gonna take such good care of you," he rumbles, voice low and full of promise. He reaches into the nightstand drawer, pulling out a condom. With deft movements born of practice, he tears open the packet and rolls the latex sheath over his length. "Always gotta protect you, my pretty girl." Returning his attention to your dripping sex, Clayton rubs the broad head of his cock through your slick folds, coating himself in your arousal. "Gonna make you feel so good, babygirl." A shiver runs through you as you feel the blunt tip nudging insistently at your entrance. Your inner muscles flutter and clench, aching to be filled. "Please Clay, I need you inside me. Need to feel you close to me," you whimper needily, looking up at him with hooded eyes dark with desire. "Fill me up, baby. Want to be stuffed full of you." You roll your hips invitingly, trying to draw him in. The anticipation is killing you, every nerve ending alight with wanting him even as you still wore his hoodie.

With a deep groan, Clayton grips your hips and slowly sinks into your welcoming heat, inch by delicious inch. "Ohhh fuck, you always feel incredible," he grunts, savoring the exquisite sensation of your tight walls enveloping him. Once fully seated, he pauses, letting you adjust to his size. One large hand comes up to cup your face tenderly, thumb stroking your cheek. "Missed you so much, baby. Needed this, needed you." He starts to move then, setting a deep, sensual pace. Each powerful thrust hits that perfect spot inside you, stoking the flames of your pleasure higher and higher. Leaning down, he captures your lips in a passionate kiss, tongue delving into your mouth to taste you thoroughly while pouring his feelings into the very thing he's been waiting on. A long, drawn-out moan spills from your lips as he finally fills you completely, your back arching off the bed. "Ahhh yes!" you cry out, relishing the delicious burn and pressure. As he begins to move, you meet him thrust for thrust, greedy for more of that perfect friction. Your nails dig into his shoulders, anchoring yourself as he takes you deeper and harder. When his lips claim yours, you kiss back fiercely, all teeth and tongue, pouring feelings of pent-up passion into the heated liplock. Breaking away with a gasp, you pepper kisses along his jaw and down his neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin.

Clayton's breath hitches as your teeth graze his neck, sending jolts of pleasure straight to his groin. "Mmmm, that's it baby, mark me up as yours," he encourages huskily, tilting his head to give you better access. His hands roam your curves possessively, squeezing and kneading the soft globes of your ass. He hooks one leg over his arm, opening you up further and allowing him to plunge even deeper. The new angle has him hitting that special spot inside you with every powerful thrust. "You like that, don't you pretty? Like feeling every thick inch of me splitting you open?" he growls, punctuating his words with sharp snaps of his hips. Sweat beads on his brow from the intensity of his movements, muscles flexing beautifully as he works above you. Oh god yes, just like that!" you wail, head thrashing on the pillow as he pounds into your g-spot relentlessly. Electric pleasure zings up your spine with each devastating thrust, coiling tighter and tighter in your core. Your walls start to flutter and quake around him, signaling your impending release. "Clayton, I'm gonna… ah ah ah!" Your climax crashes over you like a tidal wave, back bowing sharply as ecstasy floods your senses. You convulse beneath him, inner muscles clamping down rhythmically, milking his cock for all its worth. "Cum with me baby, please!" you beg mindlessly, too far gone to care how desperate you sound.

Feeling your velvety walls spasming wildly around him, Clayton lets out a guttural moan, your plea pushing him over the edge. "Fuck!" he groaned into your ear, slamming into you one last time before stilling, buried to the hilt. His cock pulses and jerks as he empties himself into the condom, hips giving shallow little thrusts to prolong both your pleasure. Panting harshly, he collapses on top of you, careful not to crush you with his weight. He peppers your face with soft kisses between breaths. "That was amazing, baby. Missed you so much," he murmurs adoringly, nuzzling into your neck. You cling to him as the aftershocks continue to roll through you, basking in the warm glow of satisfaction and love. "Mmmm missed you too, so much. This was the best welcome home ever," you murmur dreamily, fingers tracing idle patterns on his sweat-slicked back. As your breathing gradually evens out, you tilt your chin up to capture his lips in a slow, sweet kiss, pouring all your affection into the gentle press of mouths. "Love you, Clay. So glad you're back," you whisper against his lips when you finally part. You snuggle closer, savoring his solid warmth and familiar scent, feeling complete and content in his embrace.

"I love you too, baby. More than anything," Clayton responds softly, voice thick with emotion. He returns your tender kiss, pouring his heart into the intimate gesture. Wrapping his arms around you securely, he holds you close as if afraid you might disappear if he lets go. The scent of your hair mixed with the musky aroma of lovemaking fills his nostrils, a comforting blend he's been craving for since you've gotten comfortable with each other. He knows things have shifted between you two, growing from flirty roommates to something infinitely more profound and meaningful. And he couldn't be happier about it. "Let's stay like this forever," he mumbles drowsily, already feeling the pull of exhaustion from the intense reunion and the long trip. His eyelids droop as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, contentment radiating from every pore. A soft smile plays on your lips as you listen to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, feeling utterly safe and cherished in his embrace. "Forever sounds perfect," you agree softly, placing a feather-light kiss on his forehead. As his breathing evens out and he starts to drift off, you carefully extract yourself from under him, making sure not to wake him. You tiptoe to the bathroom to clean up a bit before returning to curl up beside him once more. You watch him sleep for a long moment, marveling at how peaceful and handsome he looks, silently, you pray that this is just the beginning of many more nights spent tangled together.

[sammywritesfics]

LH43- Skates and Secrets

Pairings: Primarily Luke Hughes x Reader. Potentially Nico Hisicher x Reader. Word Count: 2k Summary: When Luke finds out your a virgin, years later he plans to help you through it. But what happens when your pulled between him and Nico. May make this a series if its requested. Warnings: Mild Sexual Themes Requests are open, read my updated rules! Masterlist: here.

--

Luke had invited you to a devil's gala. And while usually you hated these events. You always found yourself chatting with Nico Hischier. You had met Luke during college at Michigan State. 

You had never even seen a hockey game. So when he got drafted, he made sure you came to every game you could. You tried to visit often. After a few months of back and forth, you just decided to move in with him and Jack. 

Jack was Luke’s older brother; he was a lot more confident than you expected. Mostly because Luke was always the one to have enough confidence for both of you, that's why you expected him to be the one who followed you into the bathroom. Looking at your dress in the mirror, you sighed. 

“I don’t know, lu. I feel like this isn’t my scene. I mean, did you see the girl Cody brought?” You tugged your dress up to try to cover your chest more. “Ich finde, du gsehsch toll us, liebs.” A thick German accent spoke out. 

You jumped, turning around with your purse pressed into your chest. “I’m sorry. I don’t…I don’t know what you said?” You swallowed, watching as he leaned against the sink’s countertop. “I think you look...” Nico said, keeping his gaze on the stalls while you kept fixing your dress. 

“Liebs?” You asked, and Nico froze for a moment before realizing it was a question. “It’s nothing..” He mumbled, eyes flickering across your chest before bowing his head down. “You do know this is the women's restroom?” you poked his shoulder. 

Nico caught your wrist, smirking softly. “So what’s wrong with Cody’s girlfriend?” Nico changed the subject. You sighed, leaning on the counter with both hands. “She’s so pretty, I feel like I don’t fit into this world.” You heard Nico’s footsteps as his hands moved over yours. 

His chest pressed into your back, but he carefully kept his lower half away from yours. “She’s pretty, but you're gorgeous…” Nico said casually, like his words weren’t setting you on fire.

Before you could turn around and respond, Nico was off you when Luke burst into the bathroom. Luke looked relieved to see you, “Timo said you went into the bathroom with some dude.”. 

You snorted, “Nico’s hardly a competition.”. Nico rolled his eyes as Luke snapped to him. “Captain..” Luke greeted, looking back at you. “Rusty..” Nico greeted calmly. “Well, I’m taking my date back,” Luke said, reaching for you. You took his hand. “Don’t let Jack hear that,” you teased. Luke shoved your shoulder before tugging you back to him with your intertwined hands. 

When Nico sat back at his table, he turned to Timo. “She went into the bathroom with some man?” Nico scoffed at his friend. Timo chuckled, “Doesn’t look good for the press if Nico and Luke’s best friend sneak into a bathroom together.” Timo countered.

Nico sighed, “I was gonna make a move...” he ran his hand through his pushed-back hair. Timo shot him a look before sipping his drink, “In the bathroom?”. At your table, Luke was bombarding you with questions. 

“Why were you in the bathroom with Nico? You cannot date my Captain. Did he say anything?” Luke asked, leaning forward. Jack laughed across the table, “She’s a big girl, Rusty.”. “I told the team she was off limits,” Luke grumbled like a scolded child. 

--

The next time you saw Nico was a few weeks after that. You were sitting in the stands when you glanced up to look for Jack or Luke. What greeted you was Nico talking to Timo and Jesper. 

Nico caught your eyes before his eyes turned back to his friends. He must’ve said something because Timo turned and looked right at you. Only to be smacked by Jesper as all three burst out laughing. 

You shifted in your seat, trying not to let the discomfort linger on your face. Were they talking about you? Nico must’ve seen how you tried to turn away from him in his chair. He frowned as he tried to climb over the boards. 

Timo held onto him, "Bisch verruckt worde, Fründ?" he laughed. Nico flushed slightly, realizing how stupid it must’ve looked. “No, I haven’t gone crazy..” Nico sighed. 

A bit later into practice, you got a text from Luke. Digging for your phone in your bag, you tugged it out. 

“Why did Cap just ask for your number?”

“Nico asked for my number?”

“No, he asked for my moms, yes! Yours.”

“Your mom is a looker, Lu.”

“Not funny. Want me to give it to him?”

“Thought I was off limits?”

“I’ll cross-check him.”

It was cute how protective Luke was. After a bit, your phone dinged again once you had space to open a book. 

“Is this my favorite girl?” 

“This better be Nico.”

“Well, you're in luck, liebs.”

“What does that mean?”

“Google it.”

“Swiss-German isn’t exactly German.”

“It’s close enough.”

“So you don’t care if I call you a Schweinhirn?”

“I’ll have you know my brain is plenty human.”

You rolled your eyes, setting your phone down. A few seconds later, it dinged before Nico was back on the ice. Glancing down at your phone once again, you laughed to yourself. 

“I don’t know how it looked earlier. But since the bathroom, I've been getting chirped.”

“Oh, how will you ever recover?”

--

After practice, Nico was the first out of the lockers. Finding you and sitting beside you while you waited for Luke. “Luke got caught up in press interviews,” Nico said, smiling at you. 

“Oh..” you frowned, before smiling as you thought back to something he said. “What kind of chirps?” You asked, watching as Nico’s cheeks flushed as he let out a chuckle. 

“Calling me soft..” Nico shrugged, not that he was ashamed of it. But he had a soft spot for you. He leaned back in his seat before turning to you. “Is Rusty mad at me?” Nico asked casually. 

“Luke? Why would he be?” You asked, glancing across the ice to see Luke skating over. “He cross-checked me earlier,” Nico said, smiling, like he was proud of how protective your friend was. 

“He’s just protective.” You mumbled as you packed your stuff into your bag. “Yeah, but you're an adult.” Nico defended, it would’ve been sweet if you weren’t finding something embarrassing in everyone but Luke. 

--

It was during a drinking game in college, and you didn’t want anyone to know you were a virgin. It wasn’t a huge deal to you. You grew up sexually insecure despite having no reason to. It was just the way you were.

You had accepted that you would be forever. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to lose it. But the whole thing stressed you. I hurt every time you tried to finger yourself. You were horribly afraid of it meaning nothing. 

Pasley, a girl who had invited you, turned to you. “Is it true you and Marcus?...” she trailed off, letting you fill in the blank. Your eyes snapped to your drink, “We didn’t!” you said, rushed. 

“No shame, girl, but he’s hot,” Pasley said, leaning into Ethan. Luke noticed your tense body language, “Why don’t we give them some space?” He took your hand. 

As he pulled you into the empty kitchen, you turned to him. “Thank you, Luke, right?” you asked, leaning against the counter. “Yeah, that's me,” he said casually, with a tone of nervousness. 

“I’m sorry, am I supposed to know you or something?” You asked him, watching him squirm. When he didn’t speak, you leaned closer. “If you want, I’ll share something embarrassing.” You offered, watching as he relaxed. 

“My brothers are in the NHL.” Luke rushed out, picking apart your facial expression. You stared at him, "That's hockey, right?” You stared at him, puzzled. Luke nodded, “Yeah, that one..”.

You shrugged, “So? That's your big secret?”. Luke laughed, “Not impressed?” he teased. “No- I’m a virgin. That's like my big dark secret. Yours is that your brothers dance on skates for a living…” You giggled into your drink. 

“Wow. Just wow, I see how it is.” Luke smirked at you. You saw him as some guy who helped you escape Pasley's insistent questioning. Not the guy trying to make it into one of the hardest sports. He liked that about you. 

--

Luke banged on the glass, “Is he bothering you?”. You smiled at him, “No, he's being sweet...” you reassured him. Luke nodded before wiggling his eyebrows at you. Nico’s voice spoke up, his voice clipped in a way you could only describe as ‘Captain Voice’. “Might want to hit the showers,” Nico said, leaving no room for argument. Luke looked back at you, wanting confirmation to let him leave you alone with Nico.

It was one of your favorite things about him. Luke always defied his brothers and the captain, even if he got shit for it. Making sure you felt safe was his number one rule. 

On the car ride home, Luke turned to you after some silence. “So, Nico likes you,” Luke said, watching your face as you drove his BMW. “Do you think he’s…ya know the one you-” he was cut off by you covering your ears. 

“I don’t know, I really like him. He makes me feel seen…” You paused to find your words. “But you make me feel safe.” You added watching as he thought. 

“Okay, this could be horribly overwhelming in practice. But hear me out, we could…I mean, or Nico…or both? Dude, whatever you’d like, even if that's nothing”. When Luke stopped his word-vomiting session, he saw you chewing your lips. “Maybe just you? Then Nico later, but we go slow...” You added. 

Luke nodded, smiling to himself, “whatever you feel safe with...”. You blushed. He was always so kind. “My sweet boy...” You mumbled, watching as Luke’s ears turned red. 

Once at his apartment, Luke reassured you that Jack was still out for the night. “We won’t do anything tonight, okay? I just want to talk it over.” Luke said, sitting on the couch. He would’ve gone to his room, but this was such a hard subject that he needed you to feel safe. 

“Let’s start with some ground rules. We can stop at any time. Okay? I will never be mad about that.” Luke held your hand as you sat down. You were melting like you usually did when Jack would make some jokes about you two. 

You let him rub circles into your hand. “I feel safe, I’m okay..” You leaned a bit closer. Luke didn’t move; he just smiled at you. “I know that sweet girl, but I need you to want this. If it's not right for one of us. It’s not going to be right for both of us.” Luke said, watching as your eyes watered. 

“What's wrong?” He whispered softly. You shook your head, wiping your eyes. “You're just so sweet..” you sighed, taking a breath. Luke nodded, not fully convinced. 

“Honey, this is a requirement. You tell me if you want to stop or if you don’t want to.” Luke insisted gently. “I do, Luke, I really do.” You held your intertwined hands closer to your chest. 

Luke chuckled, “Okay, pretty girl. Next, if we’re ever gonna have Nico join, I would like you to consider going out with me first.”. You wanted to laugh; he was being so formal about it. 

“Lukey, I promise.” I let go of his hand, cupping his face. Luke inhaled, leaning into your hand. “Lastly, I’d really like it if you stayed the night,” Luke mumbled into your hand. That had caught you off guard; it was so him. 

“Yeah, sounds really great.” You said, taking your hand in his. 

[m34tthews]

CHAPTER EIGHT

“in another life, i know we could ride out, boy”

pairing — auston matthews x vet!reader

summary — after another playoff loss, auston disappears from the spotlight and unexpectedly crosses paths with y/n—someone from a past life who feels both distant and familiar. they only have the summer, two people from different worlds colliding at the wrong time, reigniting something they never saw coming.

word count — 11k

warnings — minors dni. sexual themes (future chapters)

an — thank you for your patience and all the support <3

masterlist

their days had started to stretch sweet and golden, stitched together with the comfort of shared toothbrushes and folded sweatshirts in each other's drawers. auston and y/n moved in a rhythm now—quiet, consistent, like two hands ticking along the same clock. felix’s leash by the door. coffee in mismatched mugs. her curled in his passenger seat with a yawn as he drove her to work, always five minutes early just to sit in the parking lot with her. sometimes he dropped off lunch with a grin, other times he lingered at the clinic, chatting with her boss in the staff room as if he belonged—and truthfully, he did. her coworkers had started referring to him as your guy, and auston would just smile, the good kind that pressed dimples into his cheeks.

they didn’t always sleep together. well—they did, but on nights when she had early clients or morning evaluations, she’d kiss his forehead, whisper something about needing rest, and go curl up in her own bed. auston never liked it, not really. neither did she. the space felt colder when they weren’t tangled up in each other, but she was disciplined, always thinking ahead. and he respected that. even if he lay on the couch staring at the ceiling for too long before falling asleep.

that morning had been one of those. she’d stayed over, kissed him softly just after five, and slipped out of the room so he wouldn’t wake. he had grumbled in his sleep, reaching for her. by the time he blinked awake, she was already gone.

he’d planned to pick her up after her shift. even texted her around lunch and offered to bring something, but she said she’d eaten already. still, he was antsy all afternoon, checking the clock, thinking about her laugh, the scent she left on his hoodie, the way she leaned her head against the car window and hummed when she was tired.

he walked into her clinic ten minutes before she wrapped, fully expecting to sit and scroll or maybe peek in if she was in one of the break rooms. but then he heard it—soft at first. a kind of muffled sniffling. not dramatic. not attention-seeking. just raw.

his chest tightened instantly.

he followed the sound with quiet steps, turning the corner toward the closed consult room, and when he opened the door, the breath left his lungs.

she was sitting on the floor, arms wrapped tightly around her knees, head buried, shoulders trembling. her white coat hung loosely from her frame, her name tag askew. her bun had come undone at the nape of her neck, pieces falling around her face.

“hey—hey, hey,” he said quickly, rushing in, his voice low but urgent. “what’s going on?”

she didn’t answer at first, only cried harder when she saw him. he was down beside her in seconds, pulling her into his chest, his arms locking around her tightly as she sank into him like she’d been waiting for it all day. he kissed her temple, then her forehead, his hand soothing up and down her back as he whispered her name.

“i’ve got you,” he said softly. “i’m here. you’re okay, baby.”

her hands fisted into his shirt, face pressed to his chest. the sound of her crying was unbearable. he hated it. he hated seeing her like this. it was the kind of pain that made his ribs ache with helplessness.

he adjusted, sitting back on the small couch, and gently guided her into his lap, one arm around her waist, the other wiping at the tear tracks on her cheeks.

“please talk to me,” he whispered, brushing her hair from her eyes. “it breaks my heart to see you cry, baby. please…”

she blinked up at him, lashes wet, nose red. her voice was hoarse. “i had to put a dog down today.”

auston’s expression softened instantly, thumb still moving gently beneath her eye.

“he was old,” she continued, “but he wagged his tail. even on the table. he was so good. and the owner—she was shaking. she kissed his head and thanked me. thanked me. and i just—”

her voice cracked again, and she broke, burying her face back in his chest.

“you don’t have to say it all now,” he murmured, “just breathe. you did everything right. i know you did.”

“it’s just been a long week,” she whispered, quieter now. “a couple of the kids i see—they’re not improving. and now this.”

he held her tighter, anchoring her with his body, his warmth.

“you carry so much,” he said against her hair. “and you still show up. you’re still the best at what you do.”

“i didn’t feel like it today,” she mumbled.

“even on your worst day, you’re incredible. you hear me?”

she nodded into his shirt, drawing in a slow breath. she didn’t cry again, just let herself sink into him, let the steady beat of his heart soothe her in a way nothing else could. he stayed quiet now, just running his hand over her back, fingers slipping beneath the edge of her coat where her blouse had come untucked.

eventually, she pulled back enough to look up at him. her eyes were still puffy, but the tears had dried.

“you’re gonna ruin your shirt,” she whispered.

he smiled a little. “worth it.”

“i didn’t want you to see me like this.”

“and miss the chance to hold you when you need it?” he shook his head gently. “not a chance.”

her throat bobbed. “thank you.”

he kissed her again, softer this time, just below her eye. “you don’t have to thank me. just let me be here for you.”

and she did. she leaned in, her forehead against his, and breathed him in like he was the only thing tethering her to the ground.

outside the room, the rest of the clinic carried on. but in that little bubble—just the two of them, a couch too small, and a moment too big—they found their stillness again.

a few moments later, the knock was soft, tentative—followed by the creak of the door opening just enough to let in the silhouette of her boss, voice gentle.

“hey,” he said, eyes flickering between auston and y/n curled against his chest, “i… heard. i’m really sorry.”

y/n straightened slightly, blinking the wet from her lashes, her voice hoarse as she moved to sit upright from auston’s lap. “i’m okay,” she tried, wiping beneath her eyes quickly. “i can keep going. i’m fine.”

her boss stepped in, face full of quiet sympathy. “you’re not. and that’s okay,” he said. “y/n, you don’t have to pretend in here.”

she opened her mouth again, trying for composure, but he gently cut her off with a small raise of his hand.

“auston,” he turned slightly, addressing him now, “you can take her for the rest of the day. i’ll close things up.”

“really,” she said again, already pushing off of auston’s lap, sitting beside him now, her palms pressed to her thighs. “i don’t want to leave anyone short. i can handle it.”

“you can,” her boss agreed kindly, “but you shouldn’t have to. not today. this morning took a toll on all of us. he was a good dog. and you were his comfort in the end. that stays with a person.”

y/n dropped her gaze to her hands.

“i’m going to do a few check-ups,” he continued, “and then we’ll close early. spend time with your loved ones. it’s not good to keep everything bottled up.”

auston glanced over at her the moment the words left his mouth. loved ones. it hovered in the air for a beat too long.

he watched her carefully—eyes soft, studying the twitch of her mouth, the way she nodded slowly, wiping beneath her eye with the heel of her hand.

“okay,” she said finally, voice quiet. “thank you.”

her boss gave her a small, meaningful hug before stepping back. “take care of yourself, y/n. that’s not just advice I give to clients.”

he left with a reassuring smile, closing the door behind him.

as soon as it clicked shut, auston turned to her, one arm already curling around her back, voice low.

“i’m gonna take care of you,” he said with quiet conviction. “we’ll go home. order your favorite. lie around with felix. or we don’t do anything at all. whatever you need.”

y/n looked up at him, eyes still tired but heart warm. she leaned into his shoulder again, nodding softly.

“anything. just… don’t leave,” she whispered.

he kissed her temple. “i won’t.”

the bed of auston’s truck was warm beneath them, softened by a spare blanket he kept in the back for post-skate cooldowns and now, nights like this. the pizza box lay open between them, crusts half-eaten and growing cold, and the tub of ice cream sat dangerously close to melting on the folded flannel between their legs. the sun had long dipped behind the horizon, streaking the sky in burnt pink and sleepy lavender, the breeze picking up as the city lights far below flickered to life one by one.

she hadn’t said much since they got there.

not out of discomfort—just a quiet heaviness he didn’t press on. auston knew her enough now to let the silence speak for her, and tonight, it did.

felix snoozed somewhere behind them, the smell of oregano and sweet cream lingering in the air, and auston just waited. occasionally grazing her hand with his thumb, brushing her knee, letting her be still until she was ready.

it took a while.

her voice was soft when it came. “i didn’t always know.”

he looked over at her, giving her his full attention.

“that i wanted to be a vet,” she clarified, eyes on the lights below. “i didn’t figure that out until a bit after i started undergrad.”

he stayed quiet, letting her go on.

“i was originally in management,” she said, almost like she couldn’t believe it herself. “business admin or something like that. my parents thought it was smart. i thought it was safe. i hated every second of it.”

auston’s brow furrowed. he nudged her gently. “you? hating school?”

she smiled faintly. “worst time of my life, first semester. i was so… lost. i didn’t know what i was doing or why. i didn’t make friends. i barely went to class. i cried more than i care to admit.”

he hated picturing that. her, curled in on herself somewhere in a too-big lecture hall, folding in on all the parts of her he knew now were made to shine.

“my mom noticed,” she said after a beat, voice smaller. “i’d come home and just… go straight to my room. barely ate. slept all the time. they didn’t push, not at first. but then she sat me down and told me i needed to find something that didn’t feel like punishment. that maybe i should try volunteering. see if something felt like me.”

she shifted a bit, pulling her knees to her chest. “so i did. animal shelter near our place. i thought it’d just be for the credit. but then… it wasn’t.”

auston leaned against the side of the truck, elbow on the rim, chin resting on his palm as he watched her speak.

“they needed people to walk the dogs and clean cages. basic stuff. but something about it… the way those animals looked at you. like you mattered. like they were scared but still chose to trust you. i hadn’t felt like that mattered to anyone in a long time. it gave me more than just joy. it gave me purpose.”

she looked at him then, really looked at him. “it was the first time in months i didn’t feel like disappearing.”

auston’s chest clenched. she hadn’t told him this before. not in this way.

he reached for her hand, threading his fingers through hers slowly.

“you know,” he said, brushing his thumb across her knuckles, “that version of you you’re describing? that lost girl who didn’t want to be seen? i would’ve never guessed.”

she smiled, barely.

“all i ever saw back then,” he said quietly, “was someone who made the smartest people in the room look average. who let me copy her answers and then made me feel stupid for not getting it. you were so sure. so… you.”

her laugh was brittle. “i wasn’t always.” a pause, then quieter: “and i still don’t feel like that most days.”

he tilted his head, studying her.

“how is it,” she said, voice breaking a little, “that i can walk into that gala, have people call me brilliant, talented… and then have days where i can’t even get through the damn afternoon without feeling like i’m failing?”

his chest ached at how broken she sounded.

“because you’re human,” he said softly. “and because you care. the work you do—it’s heavy. it’s messy and unpredictable and hard as hell. people forget that loving something doesn’t make it easy.”

she blinked fast, biting her lip.

he tugged her until she leaned over and settled between his legs, her back against his chest, his arms curling around her.

“you know what i think?” he murmured against her temple. “you’re the most capable person i know. and the fact that you still question yourself? that just means you give a shit. it means you want to be better. that’s not failure, y/n. that’s strength.”

her breath stuttered.

“it’s hard,” he added, softer now, “feeling like you’re failing at something you’re suppose to be good at. happens to me all the time.”

that made her turn her head just enough to glance at him. “really?” she asked, disbelief curling into her voice. “auston matthews? mr. multiple 60-goal seasons?”

his lips twitched. “i forgot you’re a hockey enthusiast now”

“sue me,” she said flatly, cheeks warming despite the night air. “i get curious sometimes. want to know how many people scream your name on any given night.”

he laughed then, easy and bright, and she felt it vibrate through his chest into her bones.

“those season?” he went on, voice gentler now. “yeah, it was a big deal. but it wasn’t perfect. i had stretches where i felt off. or useless. especially this past season. i was out of my element . like nothing i did would matter, no matter how many people were cheering.”

she turned slightly, watching his profile in the soft spill of light. he looked serious now, thoughtful.

“the season’s long,” he said, “and sometimes the only reason i make it through is because i have teammates. guys who hold me accountable. who remind me what i’m capable of when i forget.”

he looked down at her, voice steady.

“you don’t have that. not in the same way. you carry all of it—your clients, your staff, the lives you save—on your own shoulders every single day.”

her lip wobbled, and she blinked hard.

“you’re amazing, y/n. you’re smart, and patient, and so goddamn good at what you do. you love what you do. that’s rare. and the animals? they love you for it. felix is in love with you, and he’s a terrible judge of character,” he said lightly, kissing her hair when she gave a watery laugh.

his arms tightened around her, anchoring. “you don’t need to be perfect every day,” he whispered. “you just need to let someone show up for you. even if it’s just to eat ice cream and say nothing for a while.”

she turned in his arms, folding herself into his chest, and he wrapped himself around her like a second skin—warm and steady and unshakable.

“you’re not failing,” he added after a moment. “you’re just tired. and when you’re tired, i want to be the person you lean on. like i lean on my guys when the puck’s not going in.”

“auston,” she whispered, voice tight.

he kissed the corner of her mouth, gentle. “let me be your teammate, baby. i’ve got you.”

the buzz of the tattoo machine thrummed low, blending into the soft music spilling from a speaker in the corner. the shop smelled faintly of antiseptic and ink, sterile yet warm under the muted glow of overhead lights. y/n sat cross-legged on a small black stool, close enough to feel the heat radiating off auston as he stretched out on the padded table.

“you doing okay?” he asked gently, his voice soft enough to cut through the hum. he remembered the way she’d unraveled just last week, all quiet tears and shaky breaths that cracked something in him. how he’d held her in the dark, his arms the only thing keeping her from disappearing into the weight of it all.

she nodded slowly. “i’m okay.” and she meant it—at least more than she had then. colour had crept back into her cheeks these past few days, the heaviness loosening its grip bit by bit. maybe because every time she started to crumble, he was just there. no questions, no judgment—just steady hands and warm silence.

she’s not sure if, or when, she’s ever felt so cared for. but with auston, it was a given.

his shirt was long gone—tossed carelessly onto the counter—and her eyes had been wandering ever since. the full sleeve on his left arm was a masterpiece, black and grey ink flowing up to his shoulder like art carved in skin. from there, it melted into the scripture etched across his chest, delicate but bold, words that shifted with the rise and fall of his breathing. on the right side of his collarbone sat something simpler—three small initials, clean and permanent, resting close to his heart.

“this one,” she murmured, leaning forward, fingertip hovering just above the initials, “these are for…?”

“my sisters and my mom,” auston said, voice soft even under the low hum of the machine. his lips curved faintly. “figured they’d kill me if i didn’t make space for them.”

“smart,” she said with a small smile, brushing her thumb over her own wrist absentmindedly. then, tilting her head, “so… is the other arm next? planning on going full mural?”

he huffed a laugh, eyes flicking toward her. “eventually. maybe. haven’t decided yet.”

“hm.” her gaze drifted over his right arm, all bare skin and veins. “leave it like this, you’ve got balance. fill it in, and you’ll look like… a walking art exhibit.”

his brow arched. “you say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“i’m saying…” she leaned in slightly, voice playful, eyes flicking over the ink on his chest before meeting his again, “i might have a preference.”

he grinned slow. “careful, you’re about to have input on permanent decisions.”

“maybe i should,” she teased. “someone needs to stop you from tattooing the entire stanley cup on your ribcage in the future.”

his jaw ticked as he tried not to laugh. “hilarious.”

“and right,” she added, then softened as her eyes dropped to the scripture curling across his chest. “seriously, though. this—” her fingertip grazed the first line, featherlight, “it’s beautiful.”

his breath hitched. just barely. but enough.

“you keep staring,” he muttered, lips twitching. “you gonna admit you’re into my tattoos or keep pretending?”

“you want me to stroke your ego?” she shot back, though her eyes didn’t leave the ink. “that’s greedy.”

“you’re the one sitting here looking like you wanna climb me,” he fired back, voice dropping, lazy grin tugging at his mouth.

“please,” she scoffed—but when she leaned in and pressed her lips just above the scripture, slow and deliberate, the way his jaw locked told her exactly how close she’d hit.

“you’re gonna get me tattoos smudged,” he rasped.

she smiled against his skin. “just… distracted.”

he barely had time to respond before the artist returned, gloves snapping, the machine buzzing back to life. y/n straightened, biting back a smirk as auston muttered something that sounded suspiciously like evil woman.

she settled back, pretending innocence, though her eyes kept drifting—over the sharp lines of his sleeve, the script stretched across his chest like it had always belonged there, the quiet initials near his collarbone. and he felt it—her gaze—because after a while, his lips curled without looking at her.

“you’re still staring.”

"don't flatter yourself. i've never seen a someone get a tattoo in person,” she murmured.

“or maybe you like me,” he said, smirk deepening, eyes cutting to hers just long enough to make her stomach flip.

she didn’t answer. not out loud. just tilted her head, slow and deliberate, before leaning in one more time and pressing a kiss where the scripture ended—warm, lingering, smug. when she pulled back, his jaw was so tight she thought it might crack.

“you,” he said, voice low enough that only she could hear, “are in so much trouble when this is done.”

and she smiled like the devil, folding her arms and crossing her legs. because honestly? she couldn’t wait.

after a beat, the artist glanced at her. “you thinking of getting one too?”

she blinked. “me?”

“yeah, you’ve been eyeing the flash on the wall for a while,” he said, nodding to the framed sketches behind her. “first time in a shop?”

she smiled sheepishly. “is it that obvious?”

“nah,” he shrugged. “just got the look of someone who hasn’t decided what they want yet.”

auston, still very shirtless and very annoyed, smirked. “she should get my number tatted. right here.” he tapped his hipbone suggestively.

“bold of you to assume i’d want your number permanently inked on my body,” y/n fired back without missing a beat.

the artist snorted. “well now i want to know—what would you get?”

y/n tilted her head, joking slipping into something softer. “i don’t know. maybe something for my family. my grandfather was a painter—he used to paint roses and gift them to us on birthdays or milestones. they were… beautiful. delicate but bold.”

auston stopped looking at her like she was a menace then. his eyes softened, lingering.

“he passed when i was fifteen,” she said quietly. “but his paintings are still around my parents’ house. it’d be nice to carry something of his with me.”

the artist nodded. “something like that would make a great first piece. personal always trumps trendy.”

auston rested his hand on her knee, thumb brushing gently. “he’d like that,” he murmured. “a rose for your grandpa.”

she smiled, brushing her thumb over his knuckles. “yeah. maybe i will.”

the artist stepped out again, leaving the hum of fluorescent lights and the faint antiseptic in the air. auston stayed stretched out on the leather, one arm behind his head, the other resting on his stomach where his abs tensed every time she looked too long—and of course, he noticed.

“you keep staring,” he said again, smirk curling. “admit it—you’re obsessed.”

“maybe i just like good art,” she whispered. “maybe i like what it’s on more.”

that made him grin slow and sharp. he reached up, brushing a piece of hair behind her ear, fingers grazing her jaw before settling beneath her chin. “you’re playing with fire, y/n,” he murmured.

“am i?”

she kissed him again—this time just above his heart, lingering like she was branding the ink for herself. he tensed, muttering a quiet fuck as she pulled back with a smug little smile.

“you,” he rasped, “are in for it.”

“looking forward to it,” she whispered back.

and just as he leaned up to kiss her—the door creaked open.

auston groaned and dropped his head back. y/n tried not to look too pleased with herself.

the sun had barely cracked through the blinds when her phone started buzzing on the nightstand.

y/n didn’t move at first — too warm, too content, too wrapped up in limbs that weren’t hers. auston was half on top of her, their legs tangled together, his hand resting over her hip, lips brushing the slope of her jaw from where he had been sleepily kissing her just seconds ago.

the buzz came again, louder this time, and she groaned, fingers blindly reaching out until her hand found the phone.

“ignore it,” auston mumbled, voice low and still thick with sleep. “they’ll call back.”

“it’s naomi,” she whispered, blinking at the screen. “i have to answer. it’s her birthday.”

“you called her at midnight,” he muttered, arm tightening around her waist. “that counts.”

“not according to her,” she said, already swiping to answer the facetime. she sat up against the headboard just as naomi’s face filled the screen, already glammed and glowing despite it being checks clock not even 9 a.m.

“finally!” naomi cried. “i’ve been blowing up your phone. why are you in bed?! get up, it’s a national holiday!”

auston groaned beside her and pulled the covers over his head.

“you literally just flew in last night,” y/n said with a laugh. “you’re lucky i even got a hold of you at midnight.”

“and you’re lucky i accepted that half-dead whisper of a birthday wish,” naomi shot back. “now get home. we’ve got nails, hair, potentially a wax if i can squeeze it in.”

auston poked his head out just then, brow raised. “wax?”

y/n smacked his chest without even looking. “don’t start.”

naomi rolled her eyes. “oh, great. you’ve already been kidnapped.”

“not kidnapped,” auston muttered. “she’s here willingly.”

“debatable,” naomi sniffed. “the only way i’m forgiving you for hoarding her this long is if you bring hot hockey men to my dinner tonight. single ones. with visible jawlines and emotional intelligence.”

“emotional intelligence is a tall order,” y/n said, grinning.

“i have faith,” naomi deadpanned. “now, babe, seriously. i need you here. i only have, like, a few years left before you go full domestic — married, kids, boring — and i’m trying to milk our youth while i still can.”

auston sat up slowly, rubbing a hand down his face. “wow. thank you.”

“you’re welcome,” she replied sweetly. “see you soon, babe. and bye, boyfriend,” she added with exaggerated disinterest before hanging up.

y/n stared at the blank screen and sighed. “i need to go.”

auston collapsed back onto the pillows with a dramatic exhale. “i figured.”

“you know how she is,” she said, sliding off the bed and padding toward her suitcase. “she’s been planning this day for months. down to the playlist and how our coffees match our outfits.”

he propped himself on an elbow, watching her tug on leggings. “i know. i just thought i had a few more hours.”

“you can nap,” she said, pulling on a cropped zip hoodie. “dream of me.”

“can’t nap if i’m grieving.”

she snorted, zipping up. “you’re being dramatic.”

“maybe i like having you to myself,” he said softly, gaze lingering on her as she moved around the room.

she paused, looking over her shoulder. “you’re sweet when you pout.”

“you’re mean when you leave,” he said back, teasing but soft beneath it.

as she walked back over, brushing her hair behind her ear, she said, “naomi thinks she’s on a deadline.”

“a deadline?”

“yeah,” she rolled her eyes. “she says she only has a few more years before she settles down and has babies.”

auston blinked, a slow smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “she might be onto something”

“she’s manifesting,” y/n replied, grinning as she leaned down and kissed him.

he kissed her back lazily, hand slipping up her spine.

“don’t tempt me to stay,” she murmured against his mouth.

“too late,” he said, kissing her again — slower this time, a hand still buried in her hoodie strings, trying to pull her back down.

but she laughed, pulling away with a gentle shove. “i’ll be back before you can miss me.”

“already do,” he muttered as she slipped on her sneakers.

she paused at the doorway, hand resting on the frame, and looked back at him — all golden skin and rumpled sheets, lips bitten pink from their morning and eyes so soft they undid her a little.

she crossed the room one last time, pressed one more kiss to his lips, and whispered, “happy naomi day. i'll see you later tonight”

then she was gone — sneakers squeaking down the hallway, leaving behind the scent of her perfume and the ache of a morning not quite finished.

the salon smelled like lavender and eucalyptus — calm and clean, with a quiet hum of dryers and soft jazz from the overhead speakers. y/n was mid-hand massage, her nails painted a sheer nude, when naomi finally leaned back in her chair and sighed dramatically.

“okay. now that we’re officially seated, caffeinated, and soaking in luxury — tell me everything.”

y/n laughed, rolling her eyes. “you already know everything.”

“don’t play with me. i know what you let me know. i want the real stuff. like, when did we officially become boyfriend and girlfriend?”

y/n smiled softly, eyes dropping to her lap. “after the ASU gala.”

naomi’s jaw dropped. “shut up. you waited this long to tell me?”

“we were… kind of already acting like it,” y/n shrugged. “but that night… it just felt right. we talked after, like really talked, and then he asked.”

naomi grinned, absolutely beaming. “i knew that night was magic. you looked unreal, by the way. like a trophy wife. actually, better.”

“you’re insane,” y/n laughed.

“i’m right,” naomi said. “and you’re glowing. annoyingly so.”

y/n looked down at her hands, flexing her fingers as her tech guided her toward the UV dryer.

“it’s just been… really good,” she said softly. “like, I-wake-up-smiling good. and sometimes it freaks me out. like, i’m waiting for the shoe to drop.”

naomi’s teasing eased, gaze softening as she turned to her. “maybe there’s no shoe. maybe it’s just… your turn. for good things.”

y/n blinked, throat tightening.

“you deserve it,” naomi said gently. “you always have.”

they sat in the quiet for a few moments, soft hum of dryers filling the space. and then, of course, naomi’s voice broke through with all the grace of a jackhammer.

“now tell me about the sex.”

y/n choked on a laugh. “naomi!”

“you owe me! i tell you about all my hookups and failed dates remember? the one who made me split the uber and the appetizer? i earned this.”

y/n gave her a look but couldn’t suppress her grin. “fine. it was…”

naomi leaned in dramatically.

she paused, “really good.”

naomi slapped her thigh. “you bitch!”

y/n covered her face, muffling her laugh. “it was good! like, slow and… i don’t know, just real. like he wanted me to feel everything.”

“ugh,” naomi groaned. “i need a boyfriend. or at least someone with a jawline and patience.”

her second hand had just been set under the dryer when her phone buzzed again beside her thigh. she glanced down instinctively, eyes catching on the venmo notification that slid across her lockscreen. it took a second to register — and then her breath hitched.

she blinked at the amount. her brows lifted. audibly.

“what?” naomi asked immediately, leaning in suspiciously. “what’s that face?”

y/n stared at her screen like it had offended her. “he just—he venmoed me.”

naomi’s mouth parted. “for what?”

“for…” she hesitated, still trying to wrap her head around the ridiculous figure attached. “hair. nails. and apparently anything else i want today.”

“no. show me.” she gasped

“no.”

“you suck,” naomi whined. “but also… your man’s insane.”

y/n didn’t respond. instead, she picked up her phone and tapped his name, lifting the screen to her ear while her free hand rested carefully under the blue glow of the dryer.

it rang twice before she heard his voice, low and boyish, the subtle wind in the background giving away that he was somewhere outdoors.

“hey, baby.”

his voice curled around her chest, warm and familiar.

“what are you doing?” she asked, already smiling.

“tee time,” he said casually. “you just interrupted my swing.”

she rolled her eyes, quieting her voice as the nail tech moved on to naomi beside her. “then maybe don’t send me that much money and i won’t feel like i have to call you and refuse it.”

he chuckled, and she could hear the grin in it. “i’m not taking it back.”

“auston—”

“it’s for your day,” he cut in, voice softening. “go get your hair done. get your disgustingly sweet coffee. let naomi to boss you around and complain even though you love spending time with. i’ll see you tonight.”

she flushed. “you’re unreal.”

“and you’re hot,” he replied. “how’s the colour?”

she glanced at her drying nails, still under the lamp. “you’ll love it.”

he hummed, pleased. “will it match what you’re wearing tonight?”

her lip tugged into a smile as she leaned back, letting her voice dip low and sweet. “you’ll have to wait and see.”

he exhaled a laugh, like he could already picture it. “so you are trying to kill me before i lay eyes on you tonight”

“not before the party,” she teased.

“my girl,” he said, “so considerate.”

“sure.”

“you sound good,” he added after a beat, voice quieter. “happy.”

“i am.”

“good,” he murmured. “i’ll see you tonight.”

she lingered just a second before whispering, “can’t wait.”

when she hung up, she found naomi smirking at her with both hands under her dryer like the nosiest villain.

“i don’t know how you expect me to stay sane with this being your real life,” she said. “like. is this what being in love looks like? because i feel like i could cry and vomit at the same fine.”

“shut up,” y/n giggled, cheeks flushed.

“shut up,” naomi mimicked in a high-pitched mock voice. “i need to look perfect tonight maybe i’ll meet the love of my life and get loved up like you.”

“i have no doubt you will,” y/n said, still dazed, still glowing. “it’s naomi day, remember?”

“damn right it is,” naomi grinned. “and you are going to look so hot. he’ll go into cardiac arrest.”

“don’t worry,” y/n said, smirking. “he won’t even know what hit him.” they both deviously looked at each other getting ready for what they had in store for him.

the night started like every other time his friends dragged him out—except, apparently, they were all in on roasting him.

“well look what we have here. auston matthews,” clay drawled as they slid into the booth, bass vibrating through the floor. “voluntarily entering a club.. didn’t think i’d live to see it. you've been getting old on me”

“you’ve been out with me before,” auston deadpanned, shrugging out of his jacket.

“yeah, like three off-seasons ago,” another voice chimed in, followed by laughter. “you’ve gone full hermit since then.”

“you’re old, man,” clayton grinned, elbowing him. “and whipped as hell.”

auston leaned back against the leather, one arm stretching lazily across the top of the booth. “settled down,” he corrected, calm as ever.

they all groaned. “same difference.”

“nah,” auston said, scanning the crowd. “there’s a difference.”

“yeah?” clay lifted a brow. “like what?”

auston didn’t hesitate. “settling down means i chose it. being whipped means i didn’t have a choice.” his mouth curved, slow and smug. “and trust me—I’d choose her every time.”

they hooted at that, drinks raised in mock salute. “god, you’re soft.”

“you’ll get it when you have a girl,” auston shot back, unbothered. he pulled out his phone, lighting up the screen for the fiftieth time tonight. notifications stacked—her texts, naomi’s stories, the playlist she sent earlier.

“jesus,” one of them groaned, leaning over. “you’re actually checking her stories at the table.”

“and?” auston didn’t even glance up, scrolling through her best friend’s obnoxious videos until he caught a flash of white silk.

his pulse kicked. holy shit.

he slid the phone back into his pocket before they could clock the shift in his expression, fingers curling against his thigh as they drained their drinks and headed toward the ropes.

the second they stepped inside, the club swallowed them whole—dark corners, pulsing neon, bodies moving like water under the beat. naomi’s section wasn’t hard to find; she was a glowing center of chaos, perched on a couch in bright red, arms thrown up like she owned the place.

“you see her?” clay asked, jerking his chin toward the booth.

auston didn’t answer. couldn’t.

because she was there. right there, on the cushions beside naomi, pulled up into the orbit of flashing lights and champagne bubbles, and it hit him like a gut punch.

ivory satin. short enough that the hem flirted with the tops of her thighs every time she moved. the neckline dipped, delicate straps skimming her shoulders, the silk hugging curves he knew by heart now but still made him ache like the first time. her hair caught the glow, and her laugh—god, he could see it, even across the room—lit something up in his chest he hadn’t felt all night.

“holy…” one of the guys let out a low whistle. “that’s your girl?”

auston dragged his gaze away long enough to smirk. “yeah.”

“bro, she’s—”

“don’t finish that,” auston warned, but his mouth tilted anyway because yeah, he knew. he knew exactly what she looked like.

she hadn’t seen him yet, too busy dancing with naomi, hips swaying to the beat, her arms loose around her friend’s neck. then, like the universe hated him—or loved him—she glanced up. found him across the chaos.

and god, when she smiled at him, his lungs forgot how to work.

he didn’t even remember weaving through the crowd—just the heat of the music, the weight of his own pulse as her smile widened like a dare. by the time he reached the booth, naomi had already clocked him, grinning like she’d manifested the entire scene.

but y/n didn’t wait for him to say a word. the second his hand found her waist, she hopped down from the couch, satin brushing against his knuckles, and kissed him like she’d been waiting all night. no hesitation, no glance around to check who was watching. just lips parting against his, her arms curling up and around his neck as the bass thrummed under their feet.

auston groaned into it, low and rough, one hand spanning the small of her back, pulling her flush like she belonged there—like there wasn’t anyone else in the room. because as far as he was concerned, there wasn’t.

when she finally pulled back, her lip gloss smudged against his mouth, his breath hitched like he’d sprinted a mile. “jesus,” he muttered, forehead dropping to hers with a grin tugging at his lips. “that’s one way to say hi.”

“you like it?” she teased, voice light but eyes glinting with something darker.

“like it?” his thumb brushed the curve of her jaw, tilting her face so he could take her in. “been thinking about this since the second you answered that facetime this morning.” his gaze drifted up, and his brows shot. “and… hold on.” he caught a strand between his fingers, the soft highlights glinting under the strobe lights. “this is new.”

she smirked, fingers playing with the knot of his tie-less collar. “figured no better time to go back to highlights. it’s summer after all.”

“you didn’t tell me.”

“i asked you what you thought about it,” she reminded, tapping a manicured nail against his chest.

his laugh rumbled out, warm and unfiltered. “this why you were fishing for opinions? you look…” his eyes skimmed over her slowly, deliberately, stopping at the hair, then back to her lips. “fucking unreal, baby.”

heat climbed up her neck, even as she tried to play it cool. “just highlights,” she said, lifting her drink to her mouth.

“yeah?” his eyes dipped to the pale polish wrapped around the glass in her hand, and something wicked curved his mouth. “and nails too. you did all this for me?”

she sipped slowly, lashes lowering as if the music wasn’t pulsing like a heartbeat between them. “maybe. you like the colour?”

he grinned, teeth catching his bottom lip as his fingers slid down to the dip of her waist. “love it. gonna love it even more when they’re digging into my back later.”

her breath caught, just barely, and his smile turned downright lethal when he felt the shiver run through her.

“auston,” she warned softly, even though her body leaned closer, his cologne sinking into her skin.

“what?” his voice was a low drawl, his mouth grazing her ear now as he added, “you started this when you walked in looking like that. you think i’m gonna keep my hands off you all night?”

her laugh was shaky, her fingers tightening where they rested on his shirt. “this only just a preview.”

“mmm.” his nose brushed her temple as he kissed her cheek, slow and soft in contrast to the way his words curved sharp against her throat a second later: “but i’m still not letting you out of my sight, beautiful.”

before he could dip his head and steal another kiss, a loud voice cut through the music.

“well, well, if it isn’t my favorite couple!”

y/n didn’t even have to turn. naomi slid into view like she owned the whole damn club—because honestly, she might as well. red dress, glossy lips, grin wide enough to blind. she looped an arm around y/n’s shoulders, eyes sparkling with mischief as she clocked auston.

“happy birthday, trouble,” auston said with a smirk, slinging his arm around her in a side hug.

“about time you remembered who the guest of honour is,” naomi teased, though her grin softened when she hugged him quickly. “and don’t think i forgave you for kidnapping my best friend for like, a week straight.”

“you survived without her,” auston shot back easily, slipping an arm tighter around y/n’s waist. “barely,” naomi quipped, flipping her hair. then—just as her gaze drifted past his shoulder—everything shifted. her eyes widened, and her mouth curved slow, wicked.

“and who,” she said, voice pitching high like a discovery, “is this?”

auston didn’t even need to look. he already knew who stood behind him because the second naomi locked on, clayton let out a soft laugh like he’d just stepped into a trap.

“that’s clay,” auston said, fighting a grin when naomi all but sashayed around him to greet his friend. “clayton keller. he plays for the—”

“i don’t need his resume,” naomi interrupted smoothly, eyes never leaving clay as she extended her hand. “hi, birthday girl. you can call me your dream come true.”

clay blinked, then laughed, shaking her hand. “pretty sure i’m supposed to say that line.”

“not tonight,” she purred, sliding her arm through his without missing a beat. “tonight, you’re my present.”

“jesus,” auston muttered under his breath, earning a snort from y/n.

“go on, big guy,” naomi tossed over her shoulder, already pulling clay toward the dance floor with a grin that could set fire to the club. “you’ve got your person, i’ve got mine.”

auston shook his head, amusement flickering in his eyes as he turned back to y/n. “she’s going to eat him alive.”

“it’s her birthday,” y/n reminded, laughing softly as her arms slipped back around his neck. "she can do whatever she wants. we have to nod in agreement when asked”

they slipped through the packed club toward the bar, auston’s hand firm and low on her back, like claiming her was second nature. the lights strobed over the sharp line of his jaw, cutting him in flashes of blue and red, and god, he looked unfair like that—relaxed but lethal, his height and the quiet weight of his presence clearing space no one dared fill.

“what do you want?” he asked, his voice pitched low as he bent to her ear, his breath warm and steady against her skin like a secret.

“vodka soda,” she managed, though her pulse jumped when he didn’t pull back right away, just lingered like he liked the way she tilted her head toward him.

he straightened, ordered without hesitation, his other hand sliding lower until it curved just above her hip, thumb brushing slow arcs like he had all the time in the world to ruin her composure. she was hyperaware of every inch of him, and maybe that’s why she didn’t notice them at first—the two guys a few feet over, eyes lingering too long—but auston did. he saw it in the way their heads tipped together, like they thought they had a chance. like they didn’t see him, right here, wrapped around her like a shield with teeth.

his jaw ticked. before she could even register, he leaned in again, voice lower now, the kind that crawled over your skin and stayed there.

“you look insane tonight,” he murmured, every word slow enough to drag heat up her spine. “you’ve got no idea what it does to me seeing you in this dress.”

her laugh was soft, teasing, but it cracked around the edges. “you’ve said that like six times already.”

“and i’ll keep saying it,” he breathed, his lips brushing her ear before pressing a kiss there—fleeting, not messy, not for show. a warning. a claim. his arm tightened around her waist as the bartender slid the drinks over, pulling her closer like he couldn’t help it.

by the time she caught the way those guys turned back toward their group, it was too late—they were gone, scattering like smoke, and auston smirked when he handed her the glass.

“problem?” she asked, one brow arched, catching the flash in his eyes.

“not anymore.” he clinked his drink against hers, voice silk over steel. “i’m good.”

they wove back through the crowd, his hand never leaving her, and she tried—god, she tried—to ignore the way it burned, that constant reminder that even here, surrounded by a hundred people, she was his orbit.

“you don’t have to—”

“don’t have to what?” he cut in smoothly, glancing down with faux innocence and something simmering underneath.

“act like you own me,” she teased, lifting her drink to her lips, like the warmth in her throat wasn’t from him.

auston leaned in until his nose brushed her hairline, his voice dropping to something smug and sharp-edged. “who said i’m acting?”

it hit low, deep, settling in a place she couldn’t touch even if she tried. because the truth of it was there—in his hand, in the heat rolling off him, in the way every look screamed that anyone watching should already know how this ended.

even though she knew he wasn’t a dancer, when she tugged his hand toward the floor, he came anyway, like he’d been waiting for the excuse. music thumped hard under their feet, bass rattling through her ribs, light slicing his face into something almost cruel, almost too beautiful.

“didn’t peg you for a dancer, matthews,” she teased, tipping her head up as her body swayed against his.

“i’m not,” he said easily, sliding an arm low around her waist until his palm curved against her hip, anchoring her like gravity. “but for you?” his lips brushed her hairline, voice curling like smoke. “different story.”

her laugh cracked into something breathless when his chest pressed flush to her back, closing the gap until there was nothing between them but heat and bass and the sharp, delicious drag of his breath at her ear.

“memorial day weekend,” she shot back, grinning over her shoulder. “you didn’t even try.”

his mouth curved, slow and lethal. “that was avril lavigne, baby,” he murmured, dragging the word like currency over his tongue. “this—” his hips rolled against her, a barely-there grind that stole her air— “is different.”

and it was. because the second her hips rolled back into his, slow and teasing, he didn’t flinch, didn’t hesitate—just held her tighter, his hand sliding lower on her thigh where satin ended and skin began, thumb grazing her in a way that felt like a dare.

“auston,” she warned, but it was useless when her hands reached back, fingers curling in the hair at his nape, pulling him closer until his breath burned hot against her ear.

“you feel what you do to me?” his voice broke like gravel, hips shifting slow, controlled, wrecked with restraint. “fuck, y/n, you’ve been killing me since you walked in wearing that.”

by the time they made it back to the booth, restraint was a fragile thing—hanging by threads, fraying fast. he sat first, dragging her down with him until she was acoss his lap, the dress sliding scandalously high, satin whispering secrets across his thighs. her drink clinked onto the table, forgotten, because his hands were already on her—one gripping her waist, the other skimming the bare length of her thigh like he owned every inch.

"people could see us,” she teased, voice thin when his fingers trailed higher, flirting with the edge of lace.

“baby,” he murmured, low enough that it was only for her, “i could care less” his thumb stroked higher still, a lazy circle that made her choke on air.

“what if i put my hand here,” he whispered, adjusting her so his body blocked the world, his palm sliding just under the hem, brushing heat where it hurt the most. “would i find you wet for me? hmm?”

her laugh stuttered like a secret. “why don’t you check and find out.” her hands framed his jaw then, pulling his mouth to hers in a kiss that detonated every ounce of control he’d been clinging to.

he did check, and holy fuck—his breath hissed out sharp, ragged. “new underwear?” he rasped, breaking the kiss for half a second, forehead pressed to hers.

she nodded, lips slick and swollen, and he gripped her chin tight, forcing her gaze to his. “please tell me you bought it with the money i sent.”

she bit her lip, teeth sinking in like temptation personified. “among others.”

a curse tore from him, raw and filthy, before his mouth crushed hers again. heat curled everywhere, coiling tighter and tighter as his fingers moved slow, deliberate, coaxing her apart until she was trembling, nails biting into his shoulders like lifelines.

that’s when she did it—the subtle tilt of her hips, the soft graze of her heel dragging up his calf, the sharp point tracing slow, dangerous lines on his skin. his entire body shuddered like a live wire, jaw locked as his composure cracked.

“you’re gonna make me lose my fucking mind,” he gritted, the words vibrating against her mouth.

“then lose it,” she whispered back, and it was game over.

his hand pressed deeper, working her open until her head tipped back, lips parting on a sound swallowed by the music. she bit down on his shoulder when the world shattered, every muscle bowing tight, hips jerking helplessly against his fingers.

he kissed her through it—slow, filthy, like they weren’t in a booth with half the club around them—and when she finally collapsed against him, boneless and wrecked, he brushed his lips to her jaw, his voice molten. “remember what you said earlier? about previews?”

she made a sound, something like a laugh tangled in a groan.

“good.” his teeth scraped her pulse, promise curling in every syllable. “because i’m cashing in the second we get home.”

and then, softer, like a vow: “home . later."

the night stretched long, music pulsing in her bones like a second heartbeat. she danced until her legs ached, until her cheeks burned from laughing at naomi’s theatrics, but somewhere between one chorus and the next, the weight of it all began to creep in—the lights too bright, the crowd too thick, her chest too full.

her drink was warm now, forgotten in her hand as she swayed half-heartedly next to naomi, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach. naomi caught it immediately—she always did.

“social battery’s dead, huh?” naomi leaned close, her hair sticking to her temple, perfume sweet and heady even through the haze of the club.

“running on fumes,” y/n admitted, guilt prickling even as she laughed. “i’m the worst.”

“please,” naomi waved it off, eyes glinting with something softer. “you’ve been here since before midnight, you danced with me, you looked hot—best friend of the year, babe. now go get your man before i have to pry his eyes off you myself.”

“he’s fine,” y/n tried, but her gaze betrayed her, flicking across the room like a magnet drawn to steel. auston was exactly where she’d left him—tucked in the corner booth, long legs sprawled, one arm slung over the backrest like he owned the damn thing. even half in shadow, he looked carved from something dangerous, his jaw sharp under the dim light, his shirt clinging to broad shoulders that made her mouth dry.

and those eyes? glued to her like no one else existed.

“see?” naomi grinned, following her line of sight. “he’s practically undressing you from here. go before he combusts—and tell him i said thanks for bringing eye candy to my birthday.”

y/n laughed, pulling her into a tight hug, whispering against her ear, “happy birthday, nay. i love you.”

“i love you more. thank you for today, i couldn’t have asked for a better birthday or best friend. now leave before i shove you out myself,” naomi teased, giving her a playful smack on the butt before spinning back toward the girls.

heart pounding harder than it had all night, y/n slipped through the throng, every nerve buzzing under the heat of auston’s stare. his mouth curved slow when she stopped in front of him, a smile that was more like a dare.

“tired?” he asked, though the way he straightened, sliding his hand to her hip, said he already knew the answer.

“drained,” she admitted softly, leaning in just enough for her perfume to hit him, for his breath to catch.

“let’s go,” he murmured, simple as that—no questions, no hesitation. just the kind of certainty that made her chest tighten.

the uber ride was a blur—heat pressed thigh to thigh, his fingers tangled with hers, the city lights flashing across his face like a secret she didn’t want to keep anymore. by the time they stumbled through her front door, laughter spilled out of her mouth, muffled against his as his lips found hers the second it clicked shut.

he didn’t waste time. didn’t even try. his hands were everywhere—her waist, her back, sliding down to grip her thighs like he needed her closer, deeper. she gasped against him when her spine hit the wall, his mouth trailing down her jaw, teeth grazing her pulse.

“this fucking dress,” he groaned into her skin, voice raw, like it was clawing out of his throat.

she laughed breathlessly, fingers clutching his shirt. “you like it?”

“like it?” he dragged his mouth back to hers, kissing her until she was dizzy. “i’m obsessed with it. obsessed with you.”

she smiled against his lips, whispering, “naomi picked it. said it would make you lose it.”

his groan was guttural. “i’m buying her a fucking gift.”

she giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck as he scooped her up like she weighed nothing. “you’re insane.”

“you love it,” he shot back, kissing her hard as he carried her down the hall, her laughter breaking into a gasp every time her back hit the wall in his haste.

by the time they reached the bedroom, they were both wrecked with want. he dropped her gently on the edge of the bed, towering over her like a storm barely contained. she looked up at him, lips swollen, eyes dark, and then—slowly—pushed at his chest.

“sit,” she murmured, voice low, almost commanding.

his brow arched, but the corner of his mouth curved, and he obeyed, sinking onto the mattress with his legs spread, forearms braced on his thighs like he knew exactly what game she was about to play.

“what are you doing, baby?” his tone was rough, curious, already unraveling.

“something i’ve been wanting to try,” she whispered, stepping between his knees, hands skimming up his chest as she kissed him again—soft first, then deeper, her tongue teasing until he groaned into her mouth.

she pushed his shirt up and off in one smooth pull, tossing it aside before her lips traced down the column of his throat. he hissed when she bit gently, his head tipping back as her mouth worked down—over his chest, his abs, every sharp line of him.

“fuck,” he breathed, muscles twitching under her kiss. “you’re killing me.”

“good,” she murmured against his skin, dropping lower, until her knees hit the floor between his spread thighs. her hands gripped them, nails pressing lightly through his jeans as she looked up, wrecked and sure all at once.

his breath hitched. “wait—”

she froze, fingers on his button. “what?”

he swallowed hard, every muscle tight. “are you drunk?”

she shook her head instantly, voice steady. “no! i only had that one drink hours ago. i just… i want this. i want you.”

his jaw clenched, resolve fraying with every second she stayed there, looking like sin on her knees. “fuck,” he muttered, scrubbing a hand down his face before meeting her gaze again. “you’re sure?”

“i’ve never been more sure,” she whispered, fingers finally popping the button, dragging the zipper slow, deliberate. “it’s been a long time. and i want to be good for you. will you let me be good for you, baby?”

a sound ripped from his chest, half groan, half prayer. his hands found her hair, gathering it gently as he stared down at her like she was about to ruin him completely. “you’re always good to me,” he rasped, voice almost breaking. “but fuck, baby—think you can take all of me?”

her lips curled into the softest, filthiest smile, eyes wide and bright like she was both innocent and devastating in the same breath. “i know i can,” she said, tone like a promise. “i want to make you feel so good.”

and just like that, his restraint snapped.

his breath hitched, sharp and audible in the quiet room, as her fingers slid beneath the waistband of his jeans and tugged them down over strong thighs. he lifted his hips without a word, eyes never leaving her, watching her like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to worship or devour her.

“jesus,” he muttered when she palmed him through his briefs, his head tipping back for a second, a groan spilling out that sounded like something feral. “you’re… fuck, you’re really doing this.”

she looked up at him through her lashes, voice velvet-soft but laced with mischief. “you don’t want me to?”

his eyes snapped back to hers, dark and wild. “don’t play with me, baby. you know i want you more than i’ve ever wanted anything.”

her lips brushed against his thigh as she whispered, “then let me.”

and then she was tugging his briefs down, freeing him, and his breath stuttered in his chest like he’d been sucker punched. big—bigger than she’d even imagined—and thick, flushed, heavy in her hand as she wrapped her fingers around him.

“holy shit,” she breathed, eyes flicking up to see his jaw tighten when her thumb swept across the tip, collecting the bead of precum there. “you weren’t kidding.”

he let out a strangled laugh, though it cracked into a moan when she stroked him slowly, teasing, savoring every second. “swear to god, you’re gonna fucking ruin me.” he ground out, one hand fisting the sheets while the other stayed tangled in her hair.

“that’s the plan,” she whispered, before leaning forward and licking a slow stripe from base to tip, her tongue tracing every vein, every ridge. his thighs tensed under her, a curse ripped from his chest.

he looked down at her with his free hand trailed across her collarbones and the top of her breasts. "take out your tits, baby. i need to see you" she didn't remove herself from him and instead used her free hand to drop the flimsy straps of her dress.

the sight of her glossy eyes and bare breasts was almost enough for him to finish then and there. “fuck—” his voice was raw now, broken. “baby… oh my god…”

she hummed against him, lips wrapping around the tip, sinking lower until her mouth was hot and tight around him. his hips jerked despite himself, his hand gripping her hair tighter, but still gentle—always gentle, even as his body shook with restraint.

“jesus christ,” he groaned, eyes squeezing shut as his head fell back. “you feel so good. holy shit—keep going. just like that. fuck.”

she bobbed her head slowly at first, working him deeper, her free hand curling around the base, stroking where her mouth couldn’t reach. when she hollowed her cheeks and gave the slightest moan, his whole body shuddered.

“you’re gonna kill me,” he panted, dragging his gaze back down to her, and the sight—her, on her knees between his legs, lips stretched around him, eyes blown wide with want—snapped something deep inside him. “look at me, baby. yeah—eyes on me. god, you’re perfect.”

his voice was wrecked, and when she looked up, lips slick and pupils blown, he nearly lost it. his thighs trembled when she took him deeper, gagging just slightly before pulling back with a wet pop that had him groaning like a man on his knees for salvation.

“fuck,” he hissed, his chest heaving. “you’re insane. how are you so good at this? who taught you how to do that?" he breathlessly asked, his mind short cirucuting

she lifted her eyebrow with a smirk on her lips, "actually don't answer that."

she smirked, her voice husky as she stroked him slow and deliberate. “told you. i wanted to be good for you.”

he laughed—hoarse, broken—as his thumb brushed her swollen bottom lip. “baby, you’re not good. i am starting to think you're lethal.”

before she could tease him back, his hand was on her jaw, tilting her face up, and then he kissed her—filthy and deep, tasting himself on her tongue as he pulled her up into his lap like she weighed nothing. she straddled him instinctively, knees braced on either side, and his cock pressed hot and heavy against her soaked panties, making them both moan into each other’s mouths.

“you’re wet,” he growled against her lips, dragging his fingers down to push the flimsy fabric aside, finding her slick and ready. “all this for me?”

“always you,” she whispered, rolling her hips shamelessly against him. “been thinking about this all night.”

“you’re killing me,” he said again, forehead pressed to hers like he was praying. and then his voice dropped, dark and low. “ride me, baby. i want to feel you.”

her breath hitched, heart pounding, but the hunger in his eyes burned through every hesitation she thought she might have had. she nodded, trembling with anticipation as she ripped open a condom from her side table and reached between them to slip it on, guiding him to her entrance. the stretch stole her breath—hot, thick, perfect—and her mouth fell open as she sank down slow, inch by devastating inch.

“holy shit,” he choked, his hands gripping her hips so tight she’d feel it later. “fuck—fuck, baby—”

“you’re… so big,” she gasped, voice breaking as she bottomed out, her nails biting into his shoulders. “oh my god— i don't when i'll get use to it”

“you’re taking me so good,” he rasped, kissing her hard like he couldn’t stop himself. “so fucking perfect. mine.”

her hips rolled once, testing, and he groaned like it hurt. like it healed. “yeah,” he hissed, grinding up into her, his restraint hanging by a thread. “that’s it. ride me like you mean it.”

and she did. slow at first, teasing, until his hands took control, guiding her into a rhythm that left them both shaking, kissing between curses and broken sounds, her head tipped back as his mouth devoured her throat, her chest, every inch he could reach.

“fuck, you’re unreal,” he growled, voice ragged against her ear. “gonna make me lose my mind.”

“then lose it,” she moaned, clutching his hair, moving harder, faster. “please, aus—god—please—”

“say it,” he demanded, thrusting up into her with every word. “say you’re mine.”

“i’m yours,” she cried out, trembling apart in his arms. “only yours.”

his name tore out of her like a prayer when she came, and that was it—that was his undoing. he crushed his mouth to hers, swallowing her cries as his hips snapped up one last time before he fell apart, clinging to her like she was the only thing tethering him to the earth.

after, they collapsed in a tangle of limbs and breath, her cheek pressed to his chest, his heart slamming against her ear like a drum. he didn’t let go. not when his breathing evened out. not when her lashes fluttered closed. his arms only tightened, his lips finding her hair as he whispered against her crown

“fuck, baby…i think you killed me.”

they stayed tangled like that for a long minute, both catching their breath, her cheek pressed against his sweat-damp chest. he kissed her hair lazily, one arm still locked tight around her waist like he couldn’t stand the thought of letting her go.

“you okay?” he murmured eventually, his voice soft now, familiar, the way it always was when the heat burned off and all that was left was this—him and her.

“more than okay,” she whispered, tracing lazy patterns across his chest. “you?”

“yeah.” he smiled into her hair, squeezing her gently. “better than okay. like… i won't be able to function tomorrow. or ever for that matter.”

she laughed quietly, lifting her head just enough to kiss the corner of his mouth. “glad i could help.”

“help?” he snorted, grinning now as he rolled them gently so she was on her back. “baby, you just ruined me.”

taglist — @celestixldarling @steph1106 @siennaluvshcky @macka

© 2025 M34TTHEWS

[ruinix]

luke would have to force me off him with that fit oh my god. the white shirt?? #needthat

they were there for the fourth of july, right? you'd be feeling all over him, trailing his biceps with your palms, squeezing the muscle over the white fabric and running your fingers along his built chest, burying your face into him. you'd get so needy and try to roll your hips against him so he gets the gist and, of course, he can’t resist his pretty girlfriend, so he takes you to the nearest bathroom and relieves them both of the tension, teasing you about being unable to keep your hands to yourself and how you just constantly need him inside you.

LUKE HUGHES FLASH ME

Connecting ask: luke anon from earlier again, undoing his shirt buttons more so you can properly see his chest and feel his skin, reaching in the gap between the fabric 😼 he's loving it and loving how much attention you're giving him, but he's so aware of the fact you're in public and if his brothers glance sideways, they'll be able to see you feeling him up, and if they then glance down they'd see the bulge in his jeans

Hi, lovely luke anon. I give you 🍲 (hotpot emoji) coz you COOKED. OH MY GOOOOSH 😫💙 [but you can switch to another emoji]. Anyway 🫠🫠🫠 i'm melting. I've lost it. I am no longer SANE. Thank you very much.

A Tiny Escape

18+. Whore thoughts. Smut. Unprotected Sex. Semi-Public Sex (Not so quick quickie in a restroom).

Luke would instantly notice your advances. You were subtle to strangers and his brothers, but for him, you were not. It was impossible not to notice your casual and yet so insistent touch. Every single graze of your hand on his biceps, his forearms, his chest, his waist, his abs, and his shoulders was igniting the fire that streaked down, down, and down to his jeans that now felt so tight.

"Luke," you called with a pout, your chin resting on his chest before you buried your face on his exposed skin. "Lukey."

You called his name like you were trying to lure him to the depths and he would gladly follow you. When you pressed a soft kiss on his chest, undoing one more button, he hugged you tighter, exhaling a deep breath on the top of your head. He shuddered as your hands slipped into the hem of his shirt, lightly scratching his back.

"Sweetheart. My Sweets," he gasped when your touch tease along his jeans. He glanced at his brothers who was deep in a conversation about hockey fun facts and books. "Hey, hey, hey," he tried to call for your attention but you mumbled something incoherent before calling his name again. "What's—"

You cut him off when you playfully grinded against him when the music turned up, masking it with a slow sway of a dance. Then you stood up on your toes, leaning your face so close that he could smell the candied grape you were munching on.

You whispered, "Lukey, I need you."

See, that was the thing. He couldn't refuse you. He had no chance even if he tried to resist you. He would literally do anything for you. He could feel your desperation as your nails dug into his spine, as your pupils swallowed your beautiful eyes, as your breath hitched, as your pretty eyebrows furrowed and curved upwards. then you buried your face in his chest again, your hot breaths puffing on his skin, causing goosebumps to rise.

He knew that he had to please his girl. His heart was starting to squeeze from the pain of not giving it to you.

So he moved, initiating your tiny escape from his brothers, from the loud crowd, from everything else.

"We're just going to get something to drink," he yelled to his brothers, not minding if they really heard him over the music. He pulled you, smiling when you looked happy as he led you through the crowd. "Come on, I know somewhere with less people."

"Oh yeah?" you giggled, pressing closer to him. When he nodded with his cheeks burning hot, you beamed wider. "My Lukey's the best."

He tries to be.

The moment you two rounded to an inconspicuous hallway, he pushed you into the restroom. Instead of him caging you against the door, you did. You pressed him, kissing him so deeply that he almost didn't forget to lock the door. It was like you were starved of him, when he remembered how long you rode his cock that he needed to force you to sleep.

"You're insatiable," he smirked, letting you unbutton his shirt as he gently played on the ruffly hem of yours. "What am I going to do—" he inhaled sharply when your palms flatten over his bare abdomen and over his chest, groaning, "—with you?"

"What are you gonna do?" You shot back, your thumb grazing over his nipple, while your other hand slipped unbuckled his belt. You gasped as he moaned. "Oh, Luke, does that feel good?"

"Yes," he panted, helping you unbutton his jeans with his trembling hands. "What do you want?"

"I want you," you sighed. "I always want you."

Your words were making his head spin and blur, his heart pounding so hard in his chest that it was almost hard to breathe, his skin shining with beads of sweat, his body burning and burning and burning.

Logically, he should ask for more details like how you wanted to be fucked, because what you wanted to do always change. Luke loved change. He should ask.

Did you want him to bend you over the counter? Or did you want to face him with your feet planted on the counter while he relish your quivering pussy gripping his cock like vice?

Did you want him to fuck you into the wall with your legs locked on his back? Or did you want him to face the wall instead so you could try to sink those claws into the tiles?

Did you want him to grip your throat and make you watch the pleasure marking your pretty face through he mirror?

Did you want him to go hard? Slow? Fuck, how slow could he go before your absences worry his brothers? Should he message him that you two might head back early—

"Luke, where are you, sweetheart?" You brought him back from the turmoil in his head.

The endearment he used on you sounded so good for him too. He just wanted to be your sweetheart. He was. He always needed to be.

"I'm here. I need you to tell me what you want me to do. Please," he pleaded.

"Just need you inside. I'm so wet, Luke. Touch me already."

So he did. He grasped your hips desperately guiding you to the counter. Making sure that the counter was clean by swiping his palm over it, not feeling a speck of dust, he helped you over it. He slowly hikes your skirt up and up until he could see your pretty little panties. The white lace look good on your pussy. Oh fuck, you were really wet. So wet.

His hand rubbed over the expanse of your thighs. Up and down. He squeezed, savoring the softness of your thighs, feeling your trembles, groaning when you gripped his shoulder, making him lean his forehead against yours.

"You're beautiful," he stated the fact that ran through his mind 24/7. He traced his thumb over the growing wet patch, biting his lip at the sight of you arching your back. "So beautiful."

When he gripped your panties by its waistband, you lifted your lips so he could unhurriedly pull it off, his lips pressing featherlight kisses along its trail, sighing into the soft skin of your thighs, your knees, your shin. His thumb pushed down your socks so he could get to your ankle, then he rose, making a show of smelling your panties.

"Oh, Lukey," you panted as you watched him with your legs spread widely for him. "We're outside.. We should hurry up."

He nodded, taking your lips, his hand holding you by your nap and your hip, grinding against your bare pussy, letting you make a mess on his jeans because he didn't fucking care if anyone would see it. It would be an honor to be messed up by you. Fuck, he just fucking needed you.

He grunted when your hand slipped between your bodies, taking his cock from his briefs, your delicate fingers running down every inch of his length, your lips quivering while you sought his. He let you chase after him, his cock pressing against your entrance, delighting in your dilemma of needing to kiss him and to take his cock in your pussy.

Sometimes Luke liked teasing you this way. sure, he had spoiled you so much. You had the power to make him fuck you at the slightest touch, at the slightest whine, but that didn't mean he couldn't have fun and it made him feel extremely wanted and needed. Sometimes, like now, he couldn't stop his chuckle only to fucking choke and groan as he sunk into your pussy.

"Youfeelsogood," he breathed while you moaned, "Fuck yes, Lukey."

Fuck, he loved being called that.

He fucked you slowly, taking the delightful tremble of your slicked pussy walls, rolling his hips to reach deeper and deeper, listening to your pleas, to your whines, to your moans for more. He would give you more. He kissed you, tasting every crevice of your lips, swallowing your loud breathy noises. His hand pressed over you lower back, pulling you closer like he wanted to one with you more.

He could feel himself getting nearer so he rutted into you harder and fuller, holding himself back because there was no way that he would be coming first. No way. His pride wouldn't let him. Not when you had undid him so many times last night. He needed a little bit of redemption.

"Oh, Luke, move a bit—" You silently screamed when he changed the angle of his thrusts without even needing to hear your direction, "—yes, yes, yes! Right there. so good, Luke. Please. I'm so close. Please."

At that point, Luke heard a knock, but when he saw how lost you were, not even hearing the slight commotion that had the doorknob moving, he only kissed you to help silenced your moans, fucking harder into you.

Over and over again.

Until your walls clenched and trembled, until you were sobbing, "I love you. I love you," repeatedly.

And every time, he also whispered it back, because he couldn't have your words unanswered. He panted with his control fraying, because your pussy was milking him. So hard. With one last thrust, groaning into your neck, he came, spilling his hot cum in you, shuddering and melting when you run your fingers through his curls.

"Oh, someone's outside..." you whispered between your breaths, your feet finally locking at his back.

Luke glanced at the door, holding you tightly. Like you, he still wasn't ready to pull out. He didn't want to leave your puss—

"They're gone." You giggled. You made him face you, holding his cheeks while he gets enamored with your blushing face. "Maybe they heard us," you teased, your fingers playing with the shell of his ears, causing shivers to run down his spine.

"You mean, they heard you," he teaaed back, making you laugh. He takes one of your hands, kissing your palm, the back of it, then your fingers. "Should we go back to the hotel?"

You hum, now playing with his curls. "I want to party, but..."

Luke's head tilted, waiting for you to continue, his eyes settling on your bite-swollen lip. When your tongue darted out to lick it, he almost fucking lost it. Wow. Just wow.

"Let's stay here for a while," you finally finished.

"Okay." He nodded, sighing as your other hand settled on his chest. "That's what you do to me," he said, his cheeks burning hot red.

While the fireworks boomed loudly, probably lighting up the dark skies, all he could focus was your smile, looking so pleased that you were glowing.

With his stomach filling with butterflies, he bridged the small distance between your faces and captured your lips.

His heart boomed louder than the fireworks, louder than the muffled cheers of the crowd outside, louder than anything in the world.

Early blurb. Hi. /proceeds to run away 🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️

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[yvaineseleneposts]

Bombshell Pt. 6

Requested: no

Pairing: Nico Hischier x reader

Words: 1.2K

Warning(s): none

Episode Title: “Storms Incoming”

The sky was cloudless, but the atmosphere inside the villa was anything but.

Birds chirped, pool water shimmered, and still, no one could ignore the weight in the air, like something was coming.

Will stood at the kitchen counter cracking eggs. “I slept like a baby. Which is wild considering I went to bed in a warzone.”

Y/N appeared from the girls’ dressing room, hair tied up, face freshly washed. She looked calm. Nico followed not far behind, still stretching.

“You two look way too peaceful,” Maya said, brushing past them with her toothbrush. “Suspiciously peaceful.”

“We’re just moisturized and unbothered,” Y/N replied, smirking as Nico handed her a coffee.

After getting ready the girls made their way over to Jessie, who hadn’t moved from the daybeds, sunglasses on despite the early hour.

“I didn’t sleep,” Jessie said.

Ella offered her a knowing look. “Daybed life will do that.”

Jessie stared up at the sky. “I stood in the bedroom and couldn’t pick. Mitch. Luca. I couldn’t move.”

Maya asked gently, “And how do you feel now?”

“I feel like I’m the only one still deciding.”

At the kitchen island, Mitch sat stone-faced, watching Luca toast bread like nothing was wrong.

“I don’t get how he’s just cruising around, charming everyone, like nothing happened,” Mitch muttered to Will.

Will shrugged. “He didn’t exactly kiss your mum, mate. It was a dare.”

Mitch scoffed. “He didn’t have to do it like that.”

Across the counter, Luca caught Mitch’s glare and smiled politely, the kind of smile that made it worse.

Later that morning, Y/N and Maya escaped to the terrace with their iced coffees in hand.

“So… you and Nico are like... the standard now,” Maya said, squinting in the sun.

Y/N smiled. “Honestly? It feels easy. He doesn’t play games. We talk, we laugh, we’re aligned.”

Maya looked at her sideways. “Do you feel guilty that your story is going so well while everyone else is falling apart?”

Y/N laughed. “A little. But also? No. We earned this peace. I haven’t had many relationships, but the ones I did have were really bad. I am so happy that I have found someone like Nico, and I really did not expect this when I entered the villa.”

As the Islanders spread out for the afternoon, Jessie was pulled by both guys — one after the other. First by Mitch. They sat by the pool, legs dangling into the water.

“I still care, Jess. I know I’ve been crap at showing it lately, but you matter to me.”

Jessie stared at the ripples.

“I believe you,” she said. “But I need more than belief.”

“I am trying, but I know I am shit at showing it. It’s just hard to watch you with someone else.” This is a first, Mitch doesn’t usually share his feelings. Jessie didn’t know what to do with this information and just stares across the garden.

After their talk, Luca pulled her for a chat.

They sat near the fire pit, away from the others.

“I’m not asking you to decide right now,” Luca said. “But I’m not here to be second best.”

Jessie looked up at him. “You’re not. But this isn’t easy.”

He reached for her hand. “It’s simple if you let it be. I just feel like there is something more with us. Like we could make this happen if we let it.”

Again Jessie didn’t know what to say or do and just looked at the rest of the islanders. She felt like she deserved something like Nico and Y/N have, but she doesn’t want to hurt anyone.

Suddenly the villa doors opened and Maya Jama enters the villa. “Islanders will you please join me at the fire pit.” The villa erupted into anxious chatter.

Jessie froze. “What is happening?”

Will yelled from the beanbags, “Oh, the producers said: let’s end the peace!”

Nico looked at Y/N and squeezed her hand gently. “We’re good. No matter what.”

She smiled. “We’re great.”

All the islander sit around the fire pit and Luca stood in front of them next to Maya Jama.

“How are we all doing?” she asked the group and they all answered nervously, not knowing what was going to happen. “All right, Y/N how are you feeling about your couple?”

“When I first walked in during that kissing challenge, I didn’t expect to end up with such a sweet and honest man. I am very happy in my couple with Nico.” The islanders awe at them. Nico gave her a kiss on her temple.

“That’s so good to here. But I am here for a reason. We asked the public to choose a girl for Luca to couple up with. The boy single will be dumped from the island.” She let that simmer and everyone looked around confusedly. Nico squeezed Y/N’s hand.

“Don’t worry, if you leave. I leave with you.” She whispered to him, and he pecked her lips quickly and nodded.

“So Luca, the public has voted… and they have decided to couple you with… Jessie.” Jessie stood up a little shocked and joined Luca in front of the fire pit. The villa fell silent. They know what this meant, Mitch had to go. “Mitch, this means you will be dumped from the island. Please, say your goodbyes, pack your bags and join me out front.” Maya Jama walked off and everyone jumped up from their seat. All walking over to Mitch to give him and hug.

“I am so sorry, Mitch.” Jessie said as she started crying.

“None of that, babe. It’s all good. It wasn’t your decision, it is what it is. The public clearly sees a better connection between the two of you.” He looked calm but everyone knew on the inside he is raging with anger.

After they said goodbye to Mitch all the islanders go back to their thing. Nico and Y/N were laying on the beanbags again and Jessie and Luca joined them.

“How are you feeling, Jess?” Nico asked her, really feeling for her. She just shrugged her shoulders.

“I don’t know how to feel. I am happy that I am now coupled up with Luca but I feel sad that Mitch had to leave immediately. It feels like we didn’t ever close our chapter,” she said as she fell into Luca who wrapped his arms around her.

“I know you feel guilt but there is nothing you could’ve done. It wasn’t up to you, love,” Y/N said, reaching out to Jessie who held her hand. “We will leave you guys alone for a bit, so you can talk about things.” Nico and Y/N get up and leave to go over to the rest of the group. The whole vibe in the villa felt weird, they all felt like this day could be their last. Not knowing what is coming.

[viennajoell]

Uncovered

Summary: Quinn hides behind a shirt. You remind him he doesn't need to.

Word Count: 1807

Warnings: NSFW, body image themes (Quinn), praise, soft dominance, semi-public setting, oral (f. receiving), protected sex, established relationship.

A/N: this came to me in a dream idk how I feel abt it😭

It’s a hot July afternoon when you finally convince Quinn to join you and his brothers by the lake. Jack cannonballs off the dock with zero hesitation, and Luke is already halfway through a handstand contest on the paddleboard, showing off like he’s auditioning for Baywatch.

You glance over at Quinn, still sitting on the edge of the dock in swim trunks and a plain black T-shirt. The same shirt he always wears when he swims.

“You’re not gonna jump in?” you ask, brushing your wet hair off your face and floating toward him.

He shrugs, offering a small smile. “Maybe in a bit.”

The sun glints off the lake. You rest your arms on the dock beside him, water dripping from your elbows, and nudge his foot with yours. “You always say that. Come on. The water’s perfect.”

He hesitates. His fingers trace the wood grain of the dock. “I just... I dunno. I’m good right here.”

You tilt your head, studying him. He’s not pouting, not exactly. But there’s something quiet about his posture, his shoulders a little hunched even though he’s trying to act like nothing’s wrong.

You push yourself up beside him and sit cross-legged, leaning against his side. “You don’t like swimming with your shirt off.”

It’s not a question.

He doesn’t answer right away. Then, softly: “It’s stupid.”

You give him a second.

“I just—Jack and Luke, they’re built like athletes,” he says finally, staring out at the water. “They’ve got abs and muscle and all that. I work out every day and I still feel like the skinny one. The soft one.”

Your heart pinches at the word *soft.* Not because it’s true, but because he said it like it’s a flaw.

You hook a finger under the hem of his wet shirt and tug lightly. “You’re not soft. You’re just... Quinn. And I happen to love every version of you. Shirt or no shirt.”

He glances at you, lips twitching up into something shy and grateful.

“And for the record,” you continue, “I’ve seen all three of you shirtless. Yours is my favorite.”

He laughs quietly. “Liar.”

“Not even a little.” You pause. “Besides, confidence is hotter than abs anyway.”

He rolls his eyes affectionately, but the tension in his shoulders eases a bit.

After a long moment, he exhales, reaching behind his neck. You don’t say anything as he peels off the shirt and sets it beside him. His skin is warm in the sun, his arms freckled and slightly tan.

“Okay,” he says. “I’ll swim.”

You grin. “Race you to the buoy?”

“You’re on.”

You both dive in, and later, when you come up for air and see the relaxed smile on his face, you know he’s not thinking about his brothers anymore. Just you. Just this moment. And that’s enough.

---

You barely make it back to the boathouse before Quinn’s lips are on yours again — soaked skin pressed to soaked skin, your hands knotting in his damp curls. His tongue slips past your lips in a kiss that’s deeper, messier than before. Less tentative. More certain.

There’s no one around now. The lake muffles everything but your breath, the creak of the dock, the faint squelch of wet feet on wood. You think he might second-guess himself again hesitate the way he usually does but he doesn’t.

He lifts you onto the boathouse’s bench with easy strength, settling between your legs. His mouth trails along your jaw, then down your neck, warm and reverent.

“You keep looking at me like that,” he mutters, “and I’m gonna forget I ever cared about that stupid shirt.”

“Good,” you breathe, letting your fingers skim over his chest all lean muscle and warmth. “Because I never cared about it, either.”

You tug at his waistband, grinning when he groans softly.

“Eager?” he asks, voice low.

“You have no idea.”

His hands are everywhere now firm on your hips, sliding under your soaked swimsuit top, brushing along your ribs. He peels it off slowly, eyes darkening as your skin’s exposed inch by inch. When his gaze finally drags over your chest, he swears under his breath and dips his head to kiss just above your heart.

“Fuck,” he whispers. “You’re perfect.”

You tug him back up to kiss you again, harder this time. “So are you.”

His mouth crashes against yours with something deeper than hunger like he’s trying to believe you. His hips grind against yours, slow and deliberate, and you feel how hard he is through his swim trunks.

You gasp into his mouth. “Quinn…”

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he says, already nudging the fabric of your bottoms aside.

“I don’t,” you whisper, breath catching. “Please don’t.”

That’s all he needs.

He sinks to his knees in front of you, and the sudden chill of lake air is nothing compared to the heat that rushes through you when he presses an open-mouthed kiss between your thighs.

You clutch at the edge of the bench as he licks a slow stripe up your center, fingers digging into your thighs to keep you spread. His mouth is good, devastating even, tongue flicking and circling just right, and when he sucks — gently, then harder your hips jerk.

“Q—fuck—don’t stop,” you pant.

He doesn’t. If anything, he gets bolder, groaning into you like he’s addicted to the way you taste, the way you sound. When your thighs start to tremble, he slips two fingers inside you, curling them until your whole body arches.

You come with a broken gasp, fingers in his hair, legs shaking.

He doesn’t move for a moment, just kisses the inside of your thigh, then rests his forehead there like he’s catching his breath or trying to process how deeply he wants you.

When he stands, his trunks are tented obviously, painfully so. You reach for him, tugging the waistband down, and his breath stutters as his cock springs free.

“Condom?” you ask.

He fumbles in his bag near the door of course he came prepared and by the time he rolls it on and presses back against you, you’re more than ready.

When he slides into you, it’s slow. Deep. You both moan at the stretch and the way it feels like everything.

He stills for a second, forehead pressed to yours.

“You okay?” he asks, voice rough.

You nod, wrapping your legs around his waist. “Better than okay. Please, move.”

He does.

The rhythm is unhurried at first — controlled, like he’s trying to savor every second. But that control frays fast as you meet his thrusts, nails scraping gently down his back, whispering his name like a secret only he gets to keep.

“You feel so good,” he groans, kissing your jaw. “So fucking good.”

He grabs under your thigh to angle you just right, and when he hits that perfect spot, you cry out, clenching around him. His pace falters.

“Gonna come again?” he pants.

“Y-yeah—Quinn, I—”

He kisses you hard, swallowing your moan as you come for the second time tighter, more intense than before. It pulls him right over the edge. He buries his face in your neck as he thrusts once, twice more, then groans deeply, spilling into the condom.

You both stay there, breathing hard, his chest rising and falling against yours. His skin is flushed, damp, glowing in the soft late afternoon light.

He pulls out gently, helping you redress and sliding his arms around you as you both sit on the dock, legs dangling over the edge.

“I can’t believe I was nervous about taking my shirt off,” he murmurs.

You smile, leaning your head on his shoulder. “I told you. You didn’t need to hide.”

He kisses your temple.

“Guess now I really believe you.”

[theemporium]

[6.1k] most of the league welcome a bye week as all-stars hits the season calendar. with both brothers picked and the rest of the boys on the team flying out somewhere warm for the break, luke has a decision to make. and that decision ends up being a staycation in new jersey with you—not that anyone else in his life really understand why. (smut)

series masterlist

.

“Whoever is in charge of this schedule sounds like a sadist.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah!” You repeated with a small huff, staring down at your phone screen where—he presumed—you were looking at the Devils’ game schedule. “Surely there’s a better way than playing, like, three back to backs in such a short time span.” 

“It’s hockey,” Luke shrugged, like that somehow explained everything. “It’s just how it is. How it’s always been, to be honest.” 

“This makes no sense,” you grumbled, your eyes narrowed in distaste. “You literally played four games last week! Four! In the space of six days!” 

Luke snorted. “Yeah, Cherry, I’m fully aware. I was at the games. Playing.” 

You shot him a look before letting your brows furrowed in confusion. “I don’t get it.” 

“The schedule?” Luke asked. 

“No, the hockey player sex god stereotype,” you retorted. “How the hell do they find the time to even have sex? How the hell do they have the energy to even have sex?”

Luke tried—and mostly failed—to bite back his grin. “That’s your big question about hockey players?” 

“Yes,” you deadpanned. “I know you are professionals and all but surely this is a bit ridiculous.”

“Hockey is hockey,” Luke answered, shrugging once again. “It’s just always how it’s been.” 

“So, hockey players are sex gods and sadists,” you muttered to yourself, your focus back on your phone screen. “Good to know.” 

Luke only laughed in response. 

“I don’t get why they don’t just move some of the games to the first week in February,” you pointed out. “You have nothing on then.” 

“Because that’s when All-Stars is,” Luke answered. “They send a bunch of guys from different teams to compete in these challenges and stuff.” 

“Like the Hunger Games?” 

“I—” Luke’s nose scrunched up. “Yeah, but less death and violence. People usually stay nice for it.” 

“Have you been reaped?” You questioned, grinning a little. 

Luke rolled his eyes. “No, I have not. They choose the best.” 

You frowned. “You are the best. You’re the best hockey player I know.” 

Luke shot you a look. “I’m the only hockey player you know.” 

“Semantics,” you waved him off. “My point still stands.” 

“No, I get something better,” he stated. “I get a week off.”

You grinned. “Big plans?” 

Luke shrugged. “Honestly, I was just looking forward to a week without Jack banging on my door for morning skate.”

“So you’re going to spend the week hibernating,” you teased, lightly nudging his thigh with your foot. But before you could pull your foot back, Luke had grabbed your ankle and easily maneuvered your feet onto his lap. “God, I’ll need to find someone else to cook for me for a week then.” 

And the thing is that Luke knew you were just teasing. For all his claims of being a great cook (which he was, just in the few meals he actually knew how to cook), he had grown into a comfortable habit with you. He enjoyed spending time at your place. He enjoyed unwinding after bad games or grueling practices. He just enjoyed being around you, both before and after his recent realisation of his feelings. 

But now he was staring at you from across the couch, watching the way you were lounging in one of his old Michigan sweatshirts and just felt that overwhelming urge to say something stupid. 

Instead, he settled on, “you should come over.” 

You paused, raising your brows. “Come over where?” 

“To my place,” he said, feeling his cheeks heat up. “Jack will be gone and I’ll have the place to myself. We can just—” He paused, his brain going blank at the sight of your amused expression. “Chill.” 

“Chill?” You repeated, grinning.

“Chill,” he nodded, squeezing your ankle. “Just…I feel like…I’m always imposing in your space, you know? You can impose in my space too.” 

“You are a weird guy, Hughes,” you commented, though Luke liked to think you sounded fond when you spoke. 

“Is that a no?” He asked before he could help himself.

You beamed in response. “It’s not a no.” 

He felt something quite like hope spark in his chest. “So, it’s a yes?” 

“Depends,” your eyes glinted. “Are you still Team Stefan? Because if the answer is yes, I will have to decline.” 

Luke groaned. “I said that after we watched, like, three episodes! Stop holding that over my head!” 

…

“This sucks!” 

“Yes, it sucks so much being acknowledged for your skills,” Dawson deadpanned, watching the way Jack wandered around the locker room after practice, whining and complaining about everyone else making their Bye Week plans.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Jack huffed, narrowing his eyes at the boy before shifting his attention to Nico, eyes wide and hopeful. “Take me with you? I want to go somewhere warm. I want to go somewhere where the chances of freezing my balls off are lower than zero.” 

“Dude,” Nate scrunched his nose, laughing. “We play ice hockey for a living, you can handle a bit of cold.” 

“Suck it up, superstar,” Curtis called out with a huge grin. “Gotta pay up for having the Hughes name on the back of your jersey.” 

“Moose lucked out,” Jack sighed. “I have Quinn and the bajillion Canucks players that are also going. I swear he rigged the thing.”

“Bajillion?” Nico repeated with a disgustingly fond expression.

“Bajillion,” Jack nodded. “There’s too many of them. No one needs that many Canucks in one place. It’s an infestation.”

“I’m surprised you even know what that word means,” Nate snorted. 

Jack glared. 

“You not going up to Toronto to support your brothers?” Dawson asked, turning his head to look over at Luke. However, the boy barely reacted. He repeated the question again, and one more time before finally throwing a ball of rolled up tape at the side of Luke’s head.

Luke tore his eyes away from his phone, snapping his head up to find half the locker room already staring at him. “What? What did I miss?” 

“Jack complaining about All Stars,” Curtis answered.

“Oh,” Luke blinked. “So nothing new then?” 

“You're not going to Toronto?” Nico asked this time, before Curtis could say whatever witty response he had ready to go.

“Uh, no,” Luke shook his head. 

“Scared you’ll steal their thunder?” Nate joked, patting Luke’s shoulder as he walked past to get to his stall. 

Jack snorted. “He thinks he’s too cool for Toronto. Probably following John to wherever the hell he is going.” 

John’s ears perked, turning whilst he was still removing some of his gear. “What? Luke said he didn’t want to come with us.” 

Jack paused, frowning a little before turning to Luke. “You’re not going away for the week?” 

Luke could feel his cheeks burning up. “No?” 

Jack’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. 

“At least he also won’t be somewhere warm,” Nico stepped in, a hand on Jack’s shoulder providing more than enough distraction from Jack asking questions as he turned to look at Nico with the embarrassingly obvious heart eyes he has always had for the captain.

It gave Luke the short reprieve he wanted, avoiding the other curious looks he was getting as he glanced down at his phone screen for a moment, grinning at the messages before he locked it and put it back in his bag so he could finish getting changed.

cherry🍒: i hope you know that i am using this opportunity to steal as many of your hoodies as i can before the week is over 

cherry🍒: consider this your one and only warning

…

It was surprisingly easy to prevent Jack from asking any more questions. 

A little too easy, if Luke was being honest. 

But Luke was also not an idiot so he didn’t question Jack’s silence after he mentioned a friend would be staying with Luke for the week. Jack had just stared blankly for a few moments before laughing, shaking his head and walking out the room, muttering something about needing to stop by Nico’s after he finished packing. Luke took it as the blessing it was and didn’t bring it up again.

Truthfully, it didn’t hit Luke how insane it felt to have you with him the whole week until he was running around the apartment, cleaning up whatever he could before his phone began ringing from the other room.

“Dude, you have shit timing.” 

Ethan laughed on the other side of the phone. “You’ve been ignoring me! I feel abandoned. What happened to the Luke who said he missed me?” 

“I never said that,” Luke retorted.

“Rude,” Ethan huffed. “Why do you sound so out of breath? Were you training or something?” 

“Nah, just tidying the place up,” Luke replied absentmindedly, staring at the hoodie he picked up on the floor with a frown. If he was being honest, he didn’t know if it was his or Jack’s, and usually he didn’t care. But the image of you wearing it thinking it belonged to him when in reality it was Jack’s passed his mind and he quickly shoved it into the washing basket. That would be a problem he dealt with later.

“Ugh, don’t even,” Ethan whined on the other side of the phone. “I’m so jealous, dude. I would kill to be on a beach somewhere right now.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Luke muttered as he continued to pick up a few empty bottles of gatorade on the coffee table before pausing. “Wait, what? What the fuck are you on about? Who’s going to the beach?” 

Ethan sounded just as confused on the other side. “You?” 

“No, I’m not?” Luke replied, frowning. “I just told you, I’m at my place.” 

“Yeah, because you are tidying up before you fly out somewhere. For Bye Week.”

“Who told you that?”

“I thought it was obvious? Why the fuck would you not be flying out somewhere?” 

And honestly, Luke didn’t have much of a comeback for that one. Because to everyone else, it did seem weird. He knew that. He gathered as much from the rest of the boys’ reactions in the locker room the other day. He gathered it from Jack’s reaction and Quinn’s message (‘wtf rusty’) when he broke the news in the brothers group chat. 

He knew. 

But somehow trying to justify it to one of his best friends over the phone made him realise how fucking dodgy it sounded when none of them really knew about you.

“So, let me get this straight.” 

Luke let out a deep sigh.

“You declined on going up to Toronto with your brothers because you didn’t want to impose, or whatever dumb shit you said, and let them enjoy All-Stars.” 

“Yes.” 

“And then you had the offer to go to Cabo and the Bahamas with teammates, which you also declined.” 

“Mhm.” 

“And then you decided to stay in New Jersey instead of even visiting us up in Michigan with your week off?” 

“Yup.”

“Dude,” Ethan squawked, offended and confused and downright discombobulated. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Do you have a concussion? Is this like a mid-season breakdown? Do I need to call for help?” 

Luke rolled his eyes. “You’re always so dramatic.”

“I think I am being perfectly reasonable here.” 

Luke disagreed—majorly—but he valued his life so he stayed silent.

“You’re gonna get so bored staying in Jersey all week,” Ethan pointed out. “What are you even gonna do?” 

Luke opened his mouth to reply just as the buzzer sounded through the apartment. If anyone asked, he would deny the way his face instantly broke out into a smile. 

“Sleep my ass off. It’s hard being in the NHL,” Luke said in the snobbiest voice he could, letting Ethan cackle on the other side and try to get another word in before he spoke up again. “Look, I gotta run, I’ll call you later. Promise.” 

“He plays in the big leagues and thinks he’s so much better than us.” 

“I am better than you,” Luke grinned. “I remember winning beer pong.” 

“That doesn’t fucking count! Mark was the one who—” 

“Bye, Ethan!” 

Luke couldn’t hang up and rush to open the door fast enough. 

…

Deep down, he knew it was stupid for him to feel nervous about you staying over at his place for the week. 

He had stayed over at yours more times than he could count on one hand. You had become an integral part of his life in New Jersey. You were one of his closest friends. He knew you. He knew you knew him. There should have been nothing that made the week weird. 

But he couldn’t help but feel like it meant more. This was him inviting you to stay over for a few days, to stay at his place whilst his brother was out of town, to spend the week with him when he should be resting and drinking some overpriced cocktail on a beach somewhere warm. 

You were his friend but spending his whole stay-cation with him in his apartment like the two of you were playing house was something far from platonic. 

It was a bit of a mindfuck, but not as much as realising just how fucking easy it all was.

It was different from the various nights he spent at your apartment. It was different seeing you in his space, fitting into his life so easily. It was different seeing you relaxed and laid back, looking like you belonged. 

It was different from the night at his birthday party, where you were one of many faces. It was just you and him, standing in his kitchen or sitting on his couch or lying in his bed. It felt so different but so fucking good. 

Only a few days had passed and yet Luke forgot a time where you weren’t here, where you weren’t by his side throughout the whole day. 

It was dangerous but the warning signs were easy to ignore when his attention was fully focused on you.

“Are you calling me lanky?” 

“It was a compliment!” You insisted, but there was a smile on your face—not that he could see, considering your face was currently pressed against his chest as the two of you laid on the couch to watch the fastest skater skill event. “You would do well in this challenge. It would take you, like, five less strides than the rest of them.”

Luke snorted. “Geez, thanks.” 

“You’ll see,” you murmured, nuzzling your head further into his chest. “You’ll do it one day and win and know that I’m right.”

“And then you’ll tell me ‘I told you so’?” Luke guessed, his eyes now on you rather than the tv screen. 

“Obviously,” you replied, lifting your head so your chin was resting on the spot your cheek was squished against moments ago. “I’m always right, Hughes. The sooner you accept that fact, the easier your life will be.” 

Luke raised his brows in amusement. “So when you very confidently said that you loved that movie where Andrew Garfield played Batman—” 

“Shut up,” you groaned, lightly pinching his side but he quickly caught your hand. “We were watching Twilight! I was thinking about Robert Pattinson! I got confused!” 

“Uh huh,” Luke beamed. “Just always so right—”

“You’re being a dick,” you huffed, even if you were smiling. “Here I was trying to give you a compliment—”

“By calling me lanky.”

“—and this is the thanks I get,” you shook your head. 

Luke’s expression softened, his hand reaching up to tuck some hair behind your ear as he smiled down at you. “Thank you, Cherry. I appreciate the confidence.” 

“Confidence is sexy,” you retorted, your palms warm and comforting against his sides. “Soon you won’t need me to remind you.” 

“But I like when you say it,” Luke retorted.

“Professional athletes and their praise kinks,” you sighed, grinning a little when he reached down to pinch your side this time. 

“I’m the only professional athlete you know,” Luke pointed out, trying to ignore the twist in his stomach at the mere idea that maybe he wasn’t. That maybe you knew more, that maybe you had experience with more, that maybe they were far more experienced than him and—

“And you have a praise kink,” you said, interrupting his spiralling thoughts. “Therefore, my theory has not been disproved. I’m right.”

Luke’s cheeks burned hot. “I do not have a praise kink.”

You snorted, grinning as you lifted a hand to playfully squeeze his cheeks. “Aw, baby, you do and it’s hot. Don’t get all shy about it.”

“Whatever,” Luke murmured, turning his focus back to the tv instead of the growing smirk on your face. 

But the thought lingered in his mind even as the two of you continued to cuddle on the couch, watching whatever movie you had chosen after the All-Stars events ended. It picked at his brain, chipping away at the self-restraint he had to keep his mouth shut for the rest of the night until the two of you were getting ready for bed. 

He was lingering by the doorway, watching you get your side of the bed (because apparently that was also something that came easily to the two of you) ready before you climbed into bed. And before he could stop himself, he was already blurting out the words that were on the tip of his tongue for most of the night.

“Do you really think the praise kink thing is hot?” 

His cheeks were already blushy and pink and hot when you turned your head to look at him.

“How long have you been wanting to ask that?” You asked, something lighthearted and teasing in your voice that was oddly reassuring. You didn’t think he was a freak for asking. Not that he ever assumed you would judge him, you both were far from that point. 

“Does it change your answer?” He asked, not sounding half as confident as he wanted to. 

Your smile softened a little as you walked around the bed and towards him. You tilted your head back once you were in front of him, watching him with a look he couldn’t quite work out. 

Luke swallowed a little.

“It doesn’t change my answer,” you answered honestly. 

Luke could feel something in his chest tighten. “And what’s your answer?” 

“I think it’s hot,” you told him, saying it so casually as though the two of you were discussing the weather. “I think everyone has a praise kink to some extent but…”

Luke could feel his heart pounding in his chest. “But?” 

“But it’s different with you,” you said, your fingers lightly skimming against his stomach before curling around the hem of his shirt. “You’re so…responsive. It’s hot.” 

His body twitched, like his skin was too tight for his body. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you confirmed, smiling a little before using the grasp on his shirt to tug him closer and close the distance between you both. Not that there was much.

Luke was almost embarrassed by the noise he made the second your lips were on his, your hands fisting the fabric of his shirt as you used the leverage against him. He ducked his head down, trying to chase your lips as you continued to tease him and tempt him. He barely realised his feet were moving until the back of your knees hit the bed and you pulled back to look at him. 

“So pretty,” you murmured, close enough to hear the way his breath hitched before you moved down onto the bed, with your grasp on his shirt enough to drag him down with you. 

It was far from sexy, if Luke was being honest. An awkward maneuver of too many limbs and shuffling up the bed that should have ruined the moment, but it didn’t. Because it was you and you were laughing and smiling and snorting when Luke almost decked it on top of you after he got his foot stuck. You made it feel so normal. Like it was all just a part of the charm. 

Maybe it was. Maybe feeling safe enough to be human and imperfect was a part of the charm. 

Because despite the uncoordinated and clumsy scrambling onto the bed, you were still looking at him like you wanted to see how pink his cheeks could turn.

Luke barely put up a fight when you pulled him back down, happily following your movements as he settled between your legs and let you wind your arms around his neck so his nose was brushing against yours before you leaned in to kiss him again. 

Unlike a lot of the other makeout sessions the two of you had, there was no rush. There was no lingering adrenaline from a game he wanted to work off or some bad plays he wanted to forget. There were no teasing messages or risky phone calls that were building up to this moment. There was absolutely nothing but just the two of you lying in his bed, making out because you wanted to. 

Because you wanted to kiss him and he wanted to kiss you. Because you enjoyed the weight of him on top of you and he enjoyed the way your fingers entangled themselves in his curls. Because for reasons that were beyond his understanding, you wanted this as much as he did.

“Fuck,” he muttered against your lips, his tongue lightly skimming over the area of his bottom lip you nipped with your teeth.

You smiled up at him. “See? So responsive. It’s cute.” 

He swallowed. “Cute?”

“Cute, hot, sexy, whatever word you want to use, pretty boy,” you murmured, one hand sliding down to cup his face as your thumb skimmed over the apple of his cheek. “All I know is that I like the noises you make.” 

Luke responded by leaning back down, kissing you because he could, because he wanted to, because he liked the way your laugh vibrated against his lips before you kissed back.

But whatever control Luke thought he had on himself when he was with you quickly dwindled as you pulled him closer, letting his body fall on top of you and let your thighs squeeze his sides until he was rocking his hips against yours, until he was practically panting between kisses.

“Mmm,” you hummed, pressing one, two, three pecks against his lips before your lips traced along his cheek and down his jaw. “That’s it, baby. I can feel how much you like this. S’cute how worked up you get just making out.”

“You’re hot,” he gasped out, like it was self-explanatory. Like it justified why he could feel his dick twitching in his sweatpants, probably already making a mess that he would pretend didn’t embarrass him as much as it did.

Your smile was softer, your hand on his face feeling more intimate as you guided his eyes to meet yours. “I think,” you started, your thumb lightly tracing down his cheek and skimming his bottom lip. “You’re hot too. And that you can come like this. Make a mess f’me.” 

And fuck, he could.

It wouldn’t be the first time he did, helplessly grinding against you whilst you kissed him and praised him and made his head fucking spin before he was coming harder than he really should be able to from a simple act. He could lean down, press his lips against yours and slide his tongue against yours and feel the way you cling onto him as he comes. He could do it. 

But there was a buzzing voice in the back of his head, getting louder and louder until—

“I bought condoms.” 

He could see the initial surprise on your face as you processed the words he just blurted out, the eyes locked on his kiss-swollen lips shifting to look up and watch the way he squirmed under the realisation of his words. He watched the way you tucked your bottom lip between your teeth, eyes narrowing slightly like you were observing him, keeping on edge until he spoke.

“You bought condoms,” you repeated, trying and failing to keep the smile off your face. “Big plans for this week?” 

“I—” Luke’s face burned. “That wasn’t… didn’t mean…I was just—” 

“Luke,” you said in a softer voice, your smile faltering a little into something more sincere. “M’only teasing.” 

“Okay,” he whispered, a knot twisting in his stomach with every passing second. He swore he was moments away from just exploding out of pure embarrassment or something just as humiliating. 

“Breathe for me,” you murmured, smiling a little when he let out a shaky breath. “We don’t have to, if you don’t want to. Just because you bought them, doesn’t mean we have to do anything with them just yet.”

Luke swallowed, his whole body thrumming as he replied. “I…I want to.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” he nodded, his brows furrowing slightly. “Only if you want to, too. Because consent is sexy, you know.”

You laughed a little, both hands now cupping his face so your eyes could meet his. “I do, if you want this. If you’re ready.” 

“It is,” he whispered, nodding again. “I trust you, Cherry. I want this. With you.” 

“Okay,” you whispered before kissing him again, slow and sure and content. 

It made him feel a little less like his skin was shrinking all over his body.

And you kept kissing him until his body didn’t feel so tense, until he didn’t feel like a wooden plank on top of you, until he was relaxed and making those little noises between kisses that let you know he wasn’t as nervous as before. 

You kept kissing him as you lightly nudged him back, letting him lean back on his knees until he was straddling your body, giving him enough movement to lean over and scramble through his nightstand until he found the unopened box of condoms.

He tried to tear the plastic covering over the box off, tried to peel it away but his hands were shaking more than he liked and his heart was pounding in his chest and—

“Hey, relax,” you murmured softly, sitting up and taking the box from his hands with little fight from him.

“Sorry,” he mumbled with a sheepish smile. “Nerves, I guess.”

“It’s okay,” you promised. “You know we can stop at any time, just say the word.” 

He swallowed harshly. “No, I do—”

“I know,” you smiled. “But I also want you to know that.” 

“Only if you do too,” Luke responded, looking completely serious as he said it. “If you want to stop at any moment too, you have to say something too. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this with me because it’s my…first time or whatever.”

“I promise,” you smiled before nudging him back, until he was settled with his back against the headboard and you were on his lap. “Don’t worry about the condoms right now, okay? Just focus on me.” 

And Luke did.

Because, in complete honesty, it was very easy to ignore the box of condoms and the bubbling nerves and the growing realisation of what was about to happen. The voice in the back of his head saying ‘oh fuck, this is it’ was barely a whisper when his focus was on you. 

It was easy to get lost in the familiarity of you. He was used to this. He was used to you sitting on his lap, straddling his thighs and kissing him senseless. He was used to you dragging your shirt over your head and throwing it to the side. He was used to you tugging his sweatpants down and letting your own follow and guiding his hand between your legs whilst you whispered filthy things against his lips. 

He was used to the way you always targeted the spot just behind his ear, blowing cool air until he physically shivered. He was used to the way your eyes fluttered shut when his thumb lightly skimmed across your nipple. He was used to choking out a breathless moan whenever your thumb slid along the slit on the head of his cock. He was used to the way you tugged on his hair when you were close, letting the dull pain throb wonderfully at the base of his skull whilst you pressed your face against his shoulder. 

You were right, all those weeks ago back at the start of the season, when you said he needed to build up to this moment. You were right about the different experiences and experiments the two of you had tried and tested over the last few months. You were right when you said it was just like practicing hockey. 

It felt a bit fucking poetic and pathetic to compare his sex life to hockey right now, but he got it. 

The same nerves that bubbled up before his first NHL game were no different. Because even though he had played hockey his whole life, it still felt nerve-wracking to play in the NHL. And even though he had spent the last few months doing so much with you, it was still kind of daunting to know it was all leading up to this.

But just like his first NHL game, it just felt right. 

You felt right. 

This whole moment felt right. 

Luke knew he was not like his friends or teammates. He had spent years growing up with locker room talk, hearing about random hookups in the backseat of a car or halfhearted blowjobs in a bar bathroom. He heard about one night stands and casual flings and situationships that tended to go sour. He had heard it all and it was unsettling to imagine that was the future waiting for him. 

But it wasn’t. 

And it felt a bit comforting to know that he never had to look back on this experience and regret the person he was with or where he was or whatever stupid risk it could cause his career. All he had to think about was him and you and the way you were looking just as affected and turned on as he was right now.

“You still sure?” You whispered, soft and comforting and so fucking caring, it made his throat feel a little tight. 

“Yeah,” he nodded, smiling a little as he leaned in to kiss you again to emphasise his point. “I trust you. I want this with you.” 

You smiled, still looking so fucking genuine before you leaned over to grab the box of condoms, removing the plastic peel with an ease he was only slightly jealous of. He watched you grab a small foil packet, glancing at him every few seconds like you were waiting for him to jump back on his decision.

“I trust you,” he repeated, confident and sure. 

His hands laid on your legs as you tore open the foil packet. His hands squeezed the fat of your thighs as you rolled the condom on him, stroking him a few times until he was bucking into your touch. His hands were on your waist, supportive and guiding as you slowly sunk down onto his cock. 

“Shit,” Luke breathed out, his breath shaky and gasping. “Shit.”

“I’ve got you,” you whispered, one hand on his shoulder and the other gripping the back of his neck. “I—fuck—I’ve got you.”

The squeeze of your walls around his cock made him want to close his eyes. It made him want to lean back against the headboard, keep his eyes closed and fucking bask in the feeling of you being so warm and tight and intense around him. But the desire to watch the way his cock disappeared into you was stronger, to watch the way your eyes fluttered shut and your lips parted as you settled fully on his lap. 

It was fucking memesiring watching the way you slowly lifted your hips and sunk down again. It made him feel like his head was spinning as he watched you continued to move, to sink up and down on his cock, to fuck yourself on his cock and moan his name and look into his eyes and—

“Can I—” He cut himself off, a pathetic and whiny noise leaving his lips when you squeezed around him. “Can I please—”

“Whatever you want,” you murmured, breathless and panting as you leaned in to kiss him like you needed it.

He let himself enjoy the kiss, to enjoy the feeling of being inside you and the weight of you on his lap and your lips on his before he moved. Before he reminded his brain that he can move, that he didn’t have to feel so boneless and helpless, as he shifted until the two of you had rolled over and you were beneath him and—

“Oh fuck,” you moaned, loud and shameless as he hooked an arm under your knee, lifting your leg out of the way enough for him to thrust back in as your head feel back against the pillow. “Shit, yes, like that.” 

For a second, it was hard to remember he was even in his own body as he watched you. It was fucking mesmerising as he watched you moan and whine beneath him, as he felt your nails digging into his skin and scratching down his back as you demanded him for more, as you muttered his name between pleas and begs and whimpers. 

Luke kind of wished this moment would last forever. 

Unfortunately for him, he was utterly weak when it came to you. Because you were pretty and sweet and you felt fucking unreal around him, and you were looking at him like he fucking meant something and—

It was so much. Too much. Just fucking enough. 

“I can’t—” He gasped out, his whole body feeling like it was buzzing alive as the knot in his stomach twisted tighter and his thrusts became sloppier. “I’m not gonna last long—”

“Come for me,” you breathed out, your hands cupping his cheeks as you wound your legs around his waist. “C’mon, Luke, wanna feel you come in me.” 

And well, he stood no fucking chance lasting after you said that to him.

He could have sworn his ears were ringing when he came. It was intense and overwhelming and disorienting and, fuck, it felt so good. He could feel his muscles tensing, his body rigid and shaking as his orgasm washed over him. He could feel the wave of pleasure rushing through him, leaving every fucking nerve in his body buzzing as he let himself enjoy the way you were squeezing him around him.

He felt like he was on cloud nine when you ran your hands through his curls, your lips against his ear whispering god knows what. But your voice was low and humming and comforting and he could feel his eyes slipping close to enjoy the sound of it. 

He could feel you running your hands over his body, feel the way every inch of skin was pressed against you, feel the way your legs were tightening around him like you didn’t want him to move just yet either. 

After the rush of adrenaline and pleasure, his body felt syrupy. His movements felt slow and unhurried, his thoughts felt like they were floating away. His brain felt fuzzy and pleased and content to just lay on the bed with you, bask in the feeling a little longer before the grossness and desire to clean up took over. 

Luke was more than happy to nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck, to close his eyes and let out a happy sigh and let himself relax after the really intense last few minutes the two of you had just experienced.

And if Luke was more awake, he would have noticed the way you tensed up the second he spoke. The way your eyes widened, the way your body instantly locked up, the way you went a little pale. 

If Luke was more awake, he would have been able to think twice before he spoke. 

But Luke wasn’t awake. He fell asleep after muttering the one thought that had been on his mind since New Years. 

He closed his eyes and slept like a fucking baby and woke up to an empty bed and an empty apartment and not a single sign of proof of the night before except the marks on his skin and the used condom lying on his bedroom floor. 

“I think I’m in love with you,” he had slurred into the crook of your neck, his voice barely louder than a rumble as the sleepiness really hit. 

If Luke was more awake, he would have stopped himself from completely fucking everything up. 

.

[cuteandhughesy]

Met You At The Right Time╰┈➤ QH43

summary: falling in love with quinn through your shared years at college (umich!quinn x reader)

[word count] 3.3k

warnings: NSFW! university relationship | kissing | mentions of drinking and partying | smut | loosing virginity | mentions of p in v intercourse | mature themes and dialogue | read at your own discretion

a/n: based off this request! this was so fucking fun and cute to write and now I want quinn as my boyfriend ! so hope you all feel the same

🎵 feels like by gracie abrams, constellations by jade lemac, birds of a feather by billie eilish, + live while we're young by one direction

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

ღ bf! quinn hughes who you first met at the rink. one of your good friends was dating another one of the wolverines and asked you to accompany her to his game.

quinn had spotted you during the warm-ups. your smile wide and amused as you watched all the athletes warm up in their own routines. you were joking with chloe—your friend—while her boyfriend tossed you both pucks over the glass. quinn almost passed out when you glanced his way—sending him a sweet, reserved grin. he forced himself to smile back, and when that made you blush and look away, quinn knew that he had to know you.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who asked his teammate about you as soon as the game finished—a victory for the wolverines, thankfully. he attempted to sound nonchalant and uninterested, but his teammate knew quinn too well. he wrapped quinn up in a firm, annoying side huge and gave him a nugie, all while saying 'does huggy bear have a crush on y/n?'

quinn thought the name suited you perfectly. thankfully quinn doesn’t need to ask again before his teammate is getting your number from chloe.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who texted you the following night. at first you were confused—a random number sending you a message with no identification other than a simple 'hey, is this y/n?' curious and intrigued, you responded immediately; 'this is she. who's this?'

quinn's response was immediate, 'shit, sorry. it's quinn hughes.'

and of course that made you giggle into your palm, feet kicking like you're an oversized excited child. because quinn fucking hughes was texting you. quinn hughes, the cutie who sits two rows back from you in kinesiology class. quinn hughes who was stupid good at hockey and was looking at you during warmups the day before.

you don't even care how he got your number (he told you regardless though, obviously), all you cared about was him wanting to text you in the first place.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who after a week and a million shared text messages later, you run into at a local coffee shop—where you merely miss spilling your entire iced chai down the front of his light coloured hockey hoodie.

he freezes and stutters at the sight of your flushed face, and his nerves only build when he sees that you're not nervous to talk to him. quinn quickly realizes he has some sort of infatuation with you, and before he can sike himself out he asks you on a date.

quinn asks in the middle of your scentence, but you don't even care. he's cute—he's dorky. 'would you wanna get dinner together sometime? like maybe thursday, if you're free?'

you are so free.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who picks you up at your dorm room before your first date. he lives off campus with his friends, and he borrowed his roommates car to come and get you. he brings you flowers—which you put in an empty orange juice bottle that you filled with water—and hugs you at the door. it’s kinda awkward and so perfectly quinn.

he lets his hand hover your lower back as you walk to the car, and of course he opens the door for you. quinn lets you play your music in the car, and he lets you talk his ear off—he can’t help but admire how comfortable you are around him. he thinks you’re like sunshine.

quinn takes you to a local italian restaurant, where you order chicken alfredo and he orders spaghetti bolognese. the conversation flows between you easily, and by the time desert rolls around, you’re sharing a lava cake—your respective spoons swiping at each others while playfully fighting for the same bites.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who after bringing you back to your dorm, grabs your wrist before you can walk in. your roommate isn’t home yet, and you can smell the peonies quinn brought that you left in the jug by the door.

you blink at him curiously, because you’ve already shared your pleasant goodbyes and made plans to see each other again. ‘you okay?’

quinn’s palm is sweaty where it wraps around you. he’s nervous, and he swallows roughly—eyes darting around your blushing face like he can’t get enough. ‘can I kiss you?’

your answer is pushing up to your toes and wrapping you arms around his neck. that’s when quinn leans down, kissing you timidly but also firmly. he’s never felt lips softer than yours, and you’ve never had a kiss turn your stomach inside out the way quinn’s did.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who asks you on a second date, and then a third, and then a fourth. each date is accompanied by a kiss, and another kiss—until all it feels like you’re doing is giggling and kissing like teenagers.

he’s a gentleman, and never makes advances that you aren’t comfortable with. quinn brings you to the beach for sunsets, kissing you under the glow of the setting sun. he takes you to the movies and to a local pottery class—sneaking kisses anytime your eyes meet.

he asks you to be his girlfriend on your fourth date while you’re both still in the car, hands twitching against his pants nervously. you’ve never smiled bigger, and you squeal in excitement, leaning over the centre console and kissing him.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who has never had a serious girlfriend before, only stupid month or so situationships and meaningless hookups. so now that he’s got you, an actual girlfriend, he’s enamoured by all the little ‘girlfriend’ things you do.

quinn goes feral when you wear his clothes. the sight of you waking up in his cozy bed, blinking tiredly while his shirt rides up your body, revealing your underwear…quinn just about dies.

you cook dinner for him, and you always tickle his back when he’s falling asleep. you want to watch all his favourite movies, and you want to learn about hockey—which leads to him teaching you how to skate, where you inevitably fall and bring him down with you.

you’re the perfect girlfriend. and even though quinn stresses he doesn’t need you to fold his laundry or pick up his shampoo when you notice he’s out, he appreciates it more than he could ever express.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who always is getting you flowers. whether it’s a pre-made bouquet from the grocery store, an arrangement he picked out at the florist, or a bunch of wild flowers from the park beside his house, quinn is giving you flowers.

when he’s at the grocery store he always picks up your favourite ben & jerry’s ice cream, as well as your favourite drink. quinn always makes sure you have water before he gets in bed himself, because you’ll be upset if you don’t, and he lets you tuck your feet under his legs because they’re always cold.

quinn is the sweetest boy you’ve ever known and he is constantly making sure you’re content before anything else.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who takes your virginity. you’ve only had one boyfriend and that was back in highschool—the farthest you’d gone with him was kissing and a little groping. when you tell quinn that you’re a virgin, he’s a little nervous—especially because he’s already hovering over you, painfully hard while your bare tits are starring at him. the only reason he’s nervous is because he wants you to be comfortable and sure. he wants it to be perfect for you.

but when you assure him in a breathy whisper, your small nimble fingers reaching out and squeezing his dick, quinn can’t hold himself back any longer. he fucks you soft and sweet, bucking into you at a pace that has your breath hitching. quinn checks on you through the whole thing, scattering kisses along your face and neck while you’re moaning in pleasure.

it’s perfect for you, and that makes it perfect for quinn.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who plays a little extra hard when you’re in the crowd. there’s something so special about having you watching him in the stands during his games, cheering him on and jumping up and down with excitement. quinn swears he can hear you over the crowd, and that always pushes him a little bit more.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who always makes sure to comfort you when you’re stressed—and vice versa.

you often get overwhelmed with your school work. you’re very smart and have a jam packed schedule, and a lot of the time if you want to spend time with quinn, you’re bringing your textbooks and laptop so you can get some work done. quinn hates the way you sigh shakily when you reach a difficult question. you’re tired and done with school, and most of the time it makes you emotional.

when you begin to cry quinn darts to you, wrapping you in a hug while you sob into his shoulder. he rubs your back soothingly, squeezing your arms and sides comfortingly. he whispers words of reassurance in your ear until you’ve calmed down, and when you inevitably get back to work, quinn helps you. even though he has no fucking clue what you’re working on, the effort makes you melt.

quinn is always the most stressed when he’s dealing with an injury or illness—because that puts a pause on hockey. you know how much hockey means to your boyfriend, and seeing him so broken about not being able to play just wrecks you. in times like that, it’s the little things you do that help quinn feel better.

making him food and making sure he’s stocked up on drinks and getting his electrolytes. massaging his shoulders and giving him head scratches. if he’s injured you make sure he’s got everything in reach so he doesn’t have to move, and if he’s sick you make sure you’re in reach, because all quinn ever wants is you.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who isn’t a huge party guy. he prefers staying in—watching movies and hockey highlights until he’s falling asleep, preferably with you tucked into his side.

you’ve always been more outgoing than quinn, and mingling is one of your favourite things to do. so every now and then when you go out, quinn joins you. he loves watching you in your element—dancing with your friends and talking to anyone who will listen. and when you’re wrapping yourself around quinn, blinking and pouting up at him all pretty asking him to dance with you, quinn never declines.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who has a few lovey dovey nicknames for you—lovey being one of them. there’s a few more common terms of endearment like babe, baby and beautiful that often slip from his lips like second nature. they’re the safest ones, the nicknames he’ll call you around his friends and yours like it’s no big deal. but then there’s the nicknames he reserves for when it’s just you both—honey, his girly, and your personal favourite: lovey.

your nicknames for quinn are simple—usually just babe or baby. but on the odd occasion when everything feels really soft and intimate, you’ll can him bubba.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who’s love language is words of affirmation. he didn’t realize it until after he met you that it was his love language, but anytime you praise him or reassure him, quinn’s stomach swoops and his heart flutters excitedly. he’s obsessed with the way you speak to him, and he’ll never get tired of it.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who knows your love language is physical touch. you love being close to quinn. if you’re not sitting next to him, you’re sitting on him—trying to get as close as possible at any means necessary. you love wrapping your hands around his arm, and throwing your leg over his hips when you’re in bed together.

quinn can be a bit awkward when it comes to physical contact, especially in public, and you understand and respect that. so when you’re out together and he kisses your cheek or wraps you in a hug, it makes it just that much sweeter.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who may not always go out to parties with you, but will always drop you off and pick you up if you need a ride. it could be a local bar or a random sticky frat house, quinn will be there if you need him.

he’s the most patient human in the world. guiding you to the car while you babble about nonsense—completely hammered. quinn pulls over if you feel sick, even if you has to pull over 15 times in a 5 minute ride. he helps you shower if you’re sticky, and he puts you in pyjamas before you get in bed—no matter who’s place you’re at. quinn makes you chug water and take advil, and he makes sure you’re sleeping on your side incase you get sick.

and he doesn’t even mind doing it either. as long as you’re safe and okay, quinn will do whatever he needs to.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who says I love you first. you’ve been dating for 6 months, and spring is blooming in michigan. it’s the first really warm day of march, and he’s taken you to the pier for a afternoon date.

you walk the pier and have shitty boardwalk food—laughing, kissing and talking about anything and everything. dates like this are always your favourite. just you, quinn and the comforting atmosphere.

you had been mid talking about the book you were reading, a book that was making you angry because you claimed the plot was ‘stupid’. you were telling quinn about the main character, hands moving animatedly as you talked when quinn just said it.

‘I love you so much, y/n’ he said quitley. but you heard it, and your previous ramble comes to a halt. you blinked once, and then again, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. and then tears begin forming in your eyes, and quinn smiles. ‘don’t cry lovey’ he said, pulling you into his chest.

but of course you continue to cry, holding onto quinn like your life depended on it. and when you look up at him and say it back, lashes all wet and nose running, quinn thinks you’ve never looked prettier.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who has to be almost sneaky when it comes to having sex with you. you live in a dorm room with a roommate, and he lives in a house with four other teammates. quinn doesn’t have his own car, and neither do you. having sex is like trying to curate a spy mission.

you have to plan times you’ll be alone, which is usually in your dorm room between 5 p.m and 6:30 p.m while you’re roommate is in a clinical lab. that’s always the best sex with quinn because he doesn’t have to hold back. he holds you against the mattress with his body, and there’s a pillow shoved under your hips while he slips in from behind. quinn pounds you into the mattress until it’s creaks, and he has to cover your mouth to muffle your moans. after all, it’s still a dorm room and you have neighbours.

but there are times when you’re both too impatient and horny. his roommates are scattered through his house, half downstairs and the other only a room over. quinn’s simple and innocent kisses soon turn more heated, and before either of you can think logically, you’re exposing only the essentials so quinn can slip into your heat while he holds your legs open.

your moans are muffled with his lips, and he shoves a pillow between the wall and headboard to not give away what you’re doing.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who gets really stressed once scouts starts checking him out for the upcoming draft. you notice in the way his shoulders are tighter, and he starts to get a little distant.

of course it hurts your feelings, but you understand the pressure he’s feeling. so like the sweet girlfriend quinn knows you to be, you reassure him. you’re not too pushy, and you’re not overwhelming. you kiss him gently and whisper your confidence in him when it’s just the two of you, facing each other in bed—nothing but the moonlight illuminating you.

it helps him more than you’ll ever know.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who is a silent jealous type. he knows you’re social, and he also knows that guys love that. when you’re at parties and mingling your little heart out, lots of guys will try and make advances on you.

you ooze confidence, and your smile is so fucking pretty that quinn almost understands these guys. but you’re his girlfriend, and the sight of these boys trying to touch you and flirt with you makes his blood boil.

of course you don’t entertain them, but that doesn’t stop the jealousy that stirs within your boyfriend. you can always tell when quinn is feeling jealous because his body gets tense and he pouts like a little boy. it doesn’t matter where you are—could be the beach and strangers are checking out your body, or a grocery store and a man compliments your smile, quinn always has the same jealous reaction. and that’s no reaction at all expect that frown.

when you see it you’re instantly moving, wrapping yourself around quinn and giving his pulse point a little kiss. and when you murmur that you love him, quinn always cracks.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who even when you’re fighting, never raises his voice at you. it doesn’t matter how frustrated he is, or how pointless your argument is, quinn would never yell. most of the time is just makes you angrier, because why can’t he just put you in your place—especially when you know you’re being annoying and stupid. but quinn always just tries to problem solve in a calm, soothing voice.

but don’t worry, he puts you in your place in other ways ;)

ღ bf! quinn hughes who asks you to stay with him for a few weeks in the summer at the lake house before the draft.

if quinn wasn’t in love with you already, seeing you with his family would’ve had him falling. you always cook breakfast with ellen in the morning, the two of you giggling and chatting like you’ve known each other for ears. you go golfing with quinn and his dad, and even though you suck at it, jim has nothing but praise and encouragement for you.

jack and luke tease you like you’re their sister. they push you into the pool and steal your fries when you’re not looking, which always makes you laugh. you blend in with his family so well, quinn can’t do anything but smile and admire it all as it unfolds.

you sit with quinn during bonfires and movie nights on the couch, sharing quick kisses when you both think nobody is watching—news flash, somebody is always watching, which usually ends with his mom cooing or his brothers teasing. you and quinn both wake up a little extra early, stifling moans as quinn pushes into your heat in the uninterrupted hours of the morning. you swim like kids, go grocery shopping with his brothers, dance in the moonlight as taylor swift songs, make out on the boat when everyone else stays back. it’s perfect. its simply just you and quinn.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who you sit beside at the nhl draft. he’s nervous, your hand clutched in his clammy one while his thumb runs over your knuckles absentmindedly. just before the draft starts, you squeeze his hand three times, a silent I love you. and quinn squeezes back.

his name gets called and you feel like crying. he hugs his parents first, and then quinn turns to you, a smile on his face while your eyes begin to go misty. he kisses you, in front of the cameras and the crowd because he knows you’re going to be together for the rest of your lives, and the nhl might as well get used to you now, because you’re not going anywhere.

[zzbubblegumbitchzz]

Bby gworl....could you do a squidney text thingy perhaps? 👀

i would say “i love sidney crosby yes i can”

[puck-luck]

Hi, girly. I hope I find you fine.

I'd like to make a request with Quinn. Could you write something where reader is feeling down, like after a day of dealing with friends/family drama and she is just drained, plus they are at the lake house and yk all the boys are there but she doesn't feel like having dinner or hanging out with them, she just wants to cuddle and recharge and Q just excuses himself to be with her and hopefully makes her feel better.

Thank you so much 💓

warnings: cockwarming. that's IT. other than that, it's just domestic bliss.

pairing: quinn hughes x fem!reader

word count: 1,229

note: thank you @skylershines for requesting this! sorry it took me a while to finish :,) this ask wasn't inherently sexual, but since i am a smut writer, i had to throw in a sexual element or two. i am not THE fluff girl on tumblr dot com LOL but love you girly

The boys are downstairs making a ruckus about something. You’re starting to wonder if they ever tire themselves out, or if they’re always full of energy like this. The day has been long and chock-full of activities and you’re… rather exhausted.

Maybe it’s because of all the sun you soaked up on the boat that’s making you sleepy. Maybe it’s the swimming you did or the wine with the big, filling, home-cooked meal that Quinn made. Maybe it’s from the flight from Vancouver to Michigan two days ago that’s making you so tired. Maybe it’s the knowledge that you’re working from home– Quinn’s home– tomorrow and you can’t dedicate all your time to the fun happenings in the vacation home.

All in all, you don’t know what the root of your exhaustion is, but you know that there’s no way you want to leave this bed again today. You’re due for a good rot. You’ve got a book in hand and you’re all tucked in beneath the covers and the fact that it’s only 7:30pm doesn’t matter to you one bit. The sun hasn’t even started to set, but here you are, ready for bed.

Between the lines in your book, you can piece together what the boys are talking about downstairs. Trevor wants a bonfire. Jack and Luke want to go wakesurfing. Alex doesn’t care, but he wants someone to make a decision. Cole wants to stay in and play ping pong. You’re secretly hoping that the fact that you can’t really hear your boyfriend arguing with his brothers and friends means that he’ll be coming upstairs to join you soon.

It isn’t long before you hear feetsteps padding up the stairs and making their way towards the bedroom you share with Quinn. You continue reading, paying no mind to the man entering the room, but there’s a hint of a smile on your face. 

“Hey,” Quinn greets in a low, relaxed tone. He kisses the top of your head, hovering by your side of the bed. “The boys want to do something. Are you up for it?”

Not really. “What do they want to do?” you ask, not sure if they’d come to an agreement by the time Quinn joined you upstairs. You don’t really want to join the boys, but you don’t want to seem like a spoilsport during your first trip to the lakehouse. Being a recluse won’t get you any favors, no matter how much Quinn likes you. You might be able to go downstairs and sit by a bonfire or watch from the couch while the boys play ping pong. Sitting on the boat wouldn’t be that bad, but you’d have to change out of your pajamas (a cute little slip that you packed just for Quinn). You also know that “one hour on the boat” never actually means one hour on the boat. It always stretches into two or three. So, really, you’d rather stay in.

“Thinking about going out on the boat,” Quinn replies, because you’re really not that lucky when it comes down to it.

Again, you’re faced with a dilemma: you can go with them and feel tired and cranky or you can stay here and feel like you’re not being a good girlfriend by joining the group. There’s not really a good option. At least in this bed, you’ll be warm.

“I kind of just want to stay in bed, if that’s okay,” you tell Quinn with a small shrug. “But I don’t want them to think that I’m boring or anything. I’m just tired.”

Quinn lets out a laugh. “They don’t think you’re boring. Are you okay, though? I know your ‘just tired’ can mean something else sometimes.”

He’s so sweet. You’ve been with Quinn less than a year, but he’s still managed to note your idiosyncrasies and moods perfectly. “I’m okay, sweet boy.”

“Do you want me to stay?”

A wave of affection passes through you. “Do what you want, Q. You choose. I won’t say no to cuddling you all night, but don’t stay on my account.”

“Just let me tell the guys to go without me,” Quinn replies. He leans down and meets your lips. “Then I’ll be back.”

He departs, but his return is quick. He brings his own book and gets into his pajamas– nothing but his boxer shorts– before joining you under the covers. Quinn throws an arm over your shoulders and opens his book, settling in.

You read together in silence for a little while. You start to get bored and allow yourself two more chapters– after checking to see just how long those chapters were, six and eight pages respectively– before you close your book and set it on the nightstand. You slide down the bed a bit, wrapping your arm around Quinn’s waist and squishing your cheek against his chest. 

Quinn rubs your arm. “Sleepy, babe?” he asks.

You hum, turning your face into his bare skin and planting a kiss there. “You’re warm.”

Quinn breathes out a laugh. He pulls you closer; you’re practically on his lap now. You might as well finish the job and get comfortable, so you straddle Quinn and bury your face in his neck, kissing the skin there. Quinn brings his hand to your back and runs his fingers up and down the expanse of it in soothing motions. 

It tickles at first, making you squirm. After a minute or so, you relax into the touch– and a few minutes after that, you find yourself grinding down against Quinn’s rapidly-filling cock.

“Quinn,” you murmur in his ear. You pull back and meet his eyes, trying to convey what you want with just a look. 

You don’t want much. You’re still tired and drained from the day, completely washed out from the swimming and boating and sunbathing you’d been thinking of earlier. All you want is to have Quinn close.

“Yeah,” he replies with a nod. He sets his book aside and encourages you to kneel up just enough that he can slide the waistband of his boxers down and free his cock. 

Greedily, you try to grind against his shaft as soon as it’s free, but Quinn halts you with a soft touch from his free hand. 

He fists the base of his cock and pulls the crotch of your panties to the side, using the pads of his deft fingers to spread your folds. His eyes are hooded and loving as his tip breaches your hole, and he starts to smile when you sink down and settle against him. 

“Oh,” you breathe out once you take him fully, clenching down and loosening your grip on his cock a few times before melting into Quinn. 

“Sweet girl,” Quinn praises in the tone that’s just for you. He plants his hands on your hips and kisses your lips.

Neither of you make an effort to move. In fact, you find yourself growing very drowsy in Quinn’s comforting arms. His distinct, tender touch has your head lulling forward, falling against his shoulder. Quinn breathes deeply and you follow, matching him. The smell of his bodywash fills your nose and you close your eyes, taking another breath.

It’s not inherently sexual, having Quinn’s cock inside you and his lips on your skin. It is, however, exactly what you needed after such an exhausting day.

[cyberhughes]

TAPOUT!

jack hughes x fem!reader, quinn hughes x fem!reader, luke hughes , fem!reader, cole caufield x fem!reader, trevor zegras x fem!reader

IN WHICH… the new social media intern for the new jersey devils gets a proper welcome from her favourite boys

NOTE guys i had to take a pause on the requests because this was just on my mind so bad…and if this is the fic that gets me canceled for being too controversial then we went out w a bang!! (pun not intended)

also this is dedicated to my kitten clara👩🏻‍🍳🤝 @lovecla i’m glad i have someone to share my insanity with i love you👅👅

WARNINGS! NSFW 18+ content dark content/taboo | five guys one girl :( | dubcon/coercion | spiking drinks w aphrodisiac | unprotected sex | blowjobs |subtle size kink | dacryphilia (blink and u miss it) | recording | degradation | cum eating | uhm if im missing anything lmk im going crazy

she got that million dollar ooh ooh ohh...

make her tap out!

you don’t know how you got into this position. or, multiple positions. hot tears blurred your vision from clearly seeing the men in front of you. the men who had been watching you like you were prey the moment you stepped into the arena as a new social media intern, waiting for their chance to pounce on you.

[ ౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 ]

“hey!” you stopped your steps as you heard a familiar voice call out just before you were about to head over to the seats to film some practice content.

luke, who you had met a few times, had skated up to the gate, a friendly smile on his face as he approached. “it’s y/n, right?” he asked and you nodded with a smile, most of the time players didn’t really care for the social media girls, simply answering their questions and going on about their day like you didn’t exist. hell, they probably wouldn’t have recognized you if they saw you walking on the street.

“so uh, feel free to say no,” he started, scratching the back of his neck. “i was having a little get together with some other players tonight, and some friends from other teams too,” you nodded as you listened intently, scared you might zone out from admiring his features.

“and i was wondering if maybe you’d like to join? some of the other social media girls are gonna be there from the other teams so i was thinking that maybe you could like, connect with them or something? just cause you’re new.” he offered with a cheeky smile and you nodded, seeming calm but inside you were freaking out a bit, it was such a perfect opportunity!

you could get so many tips from the other girls, learning things from their past experience to limit any stupid mistakes you might make while learning on your own.

“yeah! i’d love to!” he grinned at your response, “okay, awesome! how ‘bout after practice i’ll give you the details?”

[ ౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 ]

you took in a deep breath before you firmly knocked on the door of luke’s apartment, nervousness bubbled in your stomach as you waited. you were excited to meet the other girls, and make some possible new connections with anyone else. your hands fiddled with the hem of your skirt as you heard clattering and music on the other side.

the door swung open, revealing a grinning luke. you tried to hide your surprise when you saw him, usually you had either seen him in either hockey gear or in a suit. you thought that it was refreshing to see him in something so laid back, a simple tshirt and jeans matched with a backwards cap that pushed his curls nicely to the back and side of his head.

“hey y/n!” he stepped back to let you in. you returned the greeting as you stepped in as you scanned the apartment, and wow. he really downplayed on the ‘small get together’. the apartment was bustling with players of different teams chatting and drinking, yet you couldn’t spot any of the social media girls. hm, maybe they were running late.

luke noticed the way your shoulders dropped slightly in disappointment. “oh, yeah i’m sorry y/n.” he shook his head as he led you into the living room where some familiar faces were sitting. “the other girls said they couldn’t come anymore. last minute family emergencies and some illnesses or something.” he spoked and you simply nodded. “oh, that’s too bad.” you responded, it was too bad. but you looked on the brighter side of things, you would get to know the players in a more candid setting, even starting some new friendships.

“hey guys, y/n came.” luke introduced you to everyone and you waved shyly. sitting beside jack on the couch was trevor zegras and cole caufield, with quinn sitting on an arm chair just beside.

“hey y/n!” jack slapped his hands on his thighs as he stood up from his position on the couch. “it’s too bad the other girls couldn’t come, but we’re still gonna have fun, right?” he said and you nodded, cheeks slightly burning when he wrapped an arm around your shoulder. the greeting threw you off slightly, only having met him a handful of times

“what do you say we get you a drink, hm?” he offered and you nodded, following along, you didn’t want to be impolite. you’d have one drink to settle your nerves before getting to know the players.

you didn’t notice the devilish grin jack shot luke as he placed a hand on the small of your back, guiding you into the kitchen.

the night was going pretty smoothly, you had spent most of your time with the five guys you had initially been introduced with. you talked about your major for a bit, why you wanted to go into sports marketing, a bit about your personal life.

you went to take a sip of your drink as you listened to quinn talk about, well you weren't really sure what, but you had noticed your cup was empty. luke peered over, “oh, i can refill that for you.” he reached out his hand and you smiled, “sure, maybe just a soda, please?” he nodded. you don’t know how many times that night luke got up to get you another soda, but you didn’t complain. he was being a good host and you didn’t want to be rude.

“so what does your boyfriend think of you working in sports marketing?” cole smiled, taking a sip of his drink. you shook your head and chuckled in slight embarrassment, “oh, i don’t have a boyfriend.”

“really? but you’re so pretty?” trevor hummed from beside you. he had his arm draped behind you on the couch, and he reached up to twirl a strand of your hair as you blushed fifty shades of red.

you didn’t know how to respond to the compliment, squeaking out a quiet ‘thank you.’

the room started to get hot, maybe from embarrassment, maybe from the amount of bodies crowded into one space.

“hey, you okay?” quinn asked, noticing the way you were playing with the collar of your cardigan, trying to loosen it’s grip on your neck.

“uh, yeah sorry. just feeling a bit weird.” you gave him a tight lipped smile, you didn’t want to ruin the night, you had worked so hard to get where you are today and you didn’t want to ruin any of your newly made friendships with the players.

“hey it’s okay,” jack moved a few strands of hair away from your face, an expression of false concern taking over his features. “why don’t you lay down in luke's room for a bit while we call it a night?” he offered and you shook your head, “i don’t want to ruin your night.” he smiled at your pout, “don’t worry ‘bout it, luke will show you the way.”

and so luke led you to his room, letting you lean your weight onto his arm as he guided you.

“just sit down m’kay?” you nodded and plopped on the bed, feeling a weird warmth spread throughout your body. were you catching a fever? was it pms? you had never felt this feeling before. “they’ll tell everyone to go home.” he stroked your hair, letting you lean onto his shoulder.

quinn walked into the room, with jack, trevor and cole following right behind. “you okay y/n?” quinn asked as he took a seat next to you, pressing the back of his hand to your forehead. “you’re getting hot, why don’t you take your sweater off?” you nodded and let him unbutton your cardigan, peeling off the fabric and letting his cold hands graze your skin.

“why don’t you stay over tonight?” luke murmured as his eyes fell to your cleavage once your cardigan was taken off.

“yeah, we don’t want you out driving like this.” trevor kneeled in front of you, examining your face as the boys nodded in agreement.

was this inappropriate? staying over at luke’s apartment? you were just the social media girl, you didn’t want it to seem like you had taken this job just to get closer to the players. then again, maybe they were right. it wasn’t safe for a young woman to head home alone in an uber so late at night.

“just let us take care of you baby, okay?” luke pushed your hair to the side as he whispered into your ear, letting his lips trail down to your neck where he placed a small kiss. you shivered at the touch, feeling your butterflies in your stomach. “o-okay…” you sighed when he pressed another kiss onto your shoulder.

“you feeling hot? why don’t we take off the rest of your clothes, hm?” quinn’s fingers toyed with the strap of your tank top. “is…is this weird?” you looked up at him with doe eyes, tears barely forming. he gave you an endearing smile, admiring how cute you looked. “no, we’re all friends here, just wanna take care of you.” he said and you nodded.

quinn carefully helped you out of your tank top and skirt, revealing your lace bra and panties which you tried to cover up in embarrassment. you felt the bed dip behind you, jack and cole approaching on the situation.

you felt like prey underneath their gazes, their eyes burning over your exposed flesh like they were getting ready to devour you, their mouths practically watering

“so pretty…” cole's voice was barely above a whisper as he watched they way trevor traced his fingers closer and closer to your core.

this was extremely wrong, it was dirty. yet you couldn’t help but feel your panties get damper at their ministrations.

trevor looked up at you, tilting his head with a friendly smile, “gonna let us use you, pretty girl?” as he gently pushed open your thighs and you gave him a dazed nod, your response nearly coming out as a whimper, “yes.” you knew what they were doing, you knew that this was extremely perverted and wrong, but you were too far gone.

your lips parted in a soft gasp as you felt his fingers trace over your cunt overtop of your pink panties. you felt so many hands on you, groping at your breasts through your bra, slender hands pulling your thighs open just a bit further.

trevor pushed your panties to the side, toying with your slick before pushing in a single finger, looking up for your reaction. you whimpered, leaning back onto cole’s chest while he placed a small kiss on your temple.

trevor slowly pumped his finger, your arousal growing with the overwhelming amount of stimulation you were receiving from everyone. “so tight…” he mumbled as he stared with amazement before forcing a second and soon third finger. he pumped his digits in and out, earning moans from you that felt like music to their ears. from behind you, jack reached around to toy with your clit, bringing you closer and closer to your orgasm.

tears threatened to fall as you felt the heat pool in your lower stomach, “m…m gonna cum..” you whined, body fighting the way cole hand you down as you squirmed.

“go on baby, it’s okay.” quinn licked at your ear and that was all it took for you to snap, your first orgasm of the night washing over you with an intensity you had never felt before.

“fuck..” luke’s mouth dropped open as he watched your release squirt out onto trevor's tattooed arm, his fingers practically jackhammering into you as he pulled every moan he could from you until you were breathless.

everything felt hazy as they lied you down, they took their time taking off the only fabric that you had left, leaving you fully exposed and vulnerable. you heard some rummaging around but stayed focused on catching your breath.

you dazily watch jack as he climbed on top of you, trailing comforting kisses from your stomach up to your neck. “you okay with this?” he asked as he stroked his cock from below you, positioning it at your fluttering entrance. you nodded frantically and he smirked, “‘course you are.” you felt your stomach drop at the mockery in his voice, but you didn’t have much time to think about it before he pushed into you, taking all the air from your lungs. “fuck baby,” he groaned, letting himself sink fully, tears pricked at your eyes, threatening to fall at the intense stretch.

he didn’t give you time to adjust as he began thrusting into you with fervor, lifting your legs and pressing them to your chest. his fingers dug into your thighs and he pushed them down, leaving bruises onto your delicate skin. “you’re so dirty, y/n.” he grinned from above you and you felt the tears fall, which he quickly kissed away. you could tell he was about to cum when his thrusts became harsher, his cock kissing at your cervix as he let out deep groans.

his gaze flickered from the way your pussy sucked him in, up to your face, cheeks red and stained with tears as you watched him with hooded eyes. “fuckkk,” he breathed out, letting himself shoot his load into you, hips stuttering as he did so.

you let out a whine when he pulled out, feeling his cum drip out of your hole and down to your ass. you don’t even notice when he had switched positions with trevor and cole, the two boys admiring your fucked out expression before taking their turn with you.

“such a pretty little whore.” trevor smiled at you sweetly, a contrast to his degrading words. he flipped you onto your stomach with ease, lifting your hips up so that your ass was flush with his pelvis.

cole positioned himself in front of you, and you knew what he wanted. you stuck your tongue out, looking up at him with doe eyes and he swore he could’ve cum just from the sight. he slapped his cock over your tongue as trevor spread your ass cheeks from behind, getting a better view of your swollen cunt before he lined himself up with your already leaking hole.

you moaned around cole’s cock as trevor thrusted into you, the vibrations sending instant pleasure throughout his body. you steadied yourself by placing your hands on his thick thighs, letting your nails dig into his skin as he let out the prettiest whines.

you let out a squeal when trevor slapped your ass, quickly smoothing his hand over the red mark to soothe the pain. “so filthy,” it didn’t take them long before they came, shooting their loads from both ends.

you had no choice but to swallow cole’s cum when he pushed your head down all the way, nose to pelvis as his body shook in pleasure.

he cupped your face with one hand, stroking your cheek with his thumb as he thanked you, leaving your heart fluttering. trevor placed a kiss onto your back before the two of them moved away, letting quinn take over.

quinn’s eyes scanned you with a look of disapproval and pity. “so messy, baby.” you pouted at his words, he was right though. you had cum and spit leaking at the corner of your mouth, your hair was tousled and your cunt was already stuffed full. he grabbed your tank top that was thrown onto the bed earlier and quickly cleaned you up.

“there we go.” he smiled softly before leaning down to give you a proper kiss on this lips and your eyes fluttered closed, your hands reaching up to tangle themselves in his hair. he trailed his kiss from your mouth down to your breasts, licking and sucking at the reddening skin. “poor baby,” he murmured, “didn’t even get to cum again, hm? it’s okay though, i’m gonna take proper care of you.” he said, a slight dig to the men who had previously used you without any regard for your own pleasure.

he laid you down, dipping his middle finger between your folds, chuckling at the way your hole fluttered, clenching around nothing. “i’ll take care of you.” he soon replaced his finger with his aching cock, pushing into you gently as he hushed your whimpers with a kiss.

“doing so good for us, aren’t you baby?” his hand trailed down to lazily massage at your neglected clit. “q-quinn…” your nails scratched at his back, leaving bright red marks and he hissed at the pleasurable pain, nipping at your collarbones. “it’s okay, i got you baby.” he rocked into you, never ceasing his actions on your clit and you felt your eyes roll to the back of your head as his thrusts deepened. “you gonna cum for me, pretty girl? huh? gonna put on a show on for them?” you whined at his words, squirming underneath him as the heat pooled in your belly.

“k-kiss..” you mumbled and he smiled, “yeah, i got you.” he leaned down and you kissed him deeply, moving your hips up to meet him halfway. “go on baby, let go.” he whispered against your lips when he felt your grip on him tighten, your pussy spasming as you came, him following soon after, pulling out to cum onto the soft skin of your stomach.

your vision was blurry as you came down from your orgasm, body on fire from the consistent stimulation with no break. you felt quinn pepper kiss over your face, “you did so good baby.” he placed on last kiss on your lips, savoring the sweet taste of your saliva, “it’s okay, it’s almost over.” he reassured and you hummed in confusion, before you saw luke standing at the edge of the bed.

you didn’t know if you had it in you, and god he looked big standing there. “luke…” you whimpered as you tried crawling back up the bed, but he grabbed your ankles and pulled you back down.

“m’sorry baby,” he pouted, “you’re gonna let me fuck you, right? it’s only fair. i’m the one who thought you were pretty first.” he said like it was a competition before pushing himself in, your eyes going wide as your body tensed. even though you had been fucked plenty that night, none of them could’ve possible compared to the way luke’s cock was stretching you out.

hot tears fell down your cheeks as he thrusted into you, letting one of his large hands press down onto your lower stomach to feel the bulge of his cock as he fucked you. “too big luke!” you cried, thrashing underneath him and leaned down closer, his cock hitting deeper. “you can take it, know you can.” he grunted, his tip brushing against your cervix and you gripped onto his biceps like he was your lifeline. “luke! s’too much!” you cried and he licked as the salty tears from your face.

he didn’t let up his pace, continuing to fuck into you like he had been dreaming of since he first laid eyes on you at the rink. “my pretty girl...” he cooed as your screams of overstimulation echoed in his ears as he reached places inside you no one had ever reached before.

it wasn’t long before yet another load was dumped into you, your eyes lolling to the back of your head as you let out a silent scream while you came for the final time that night.

the room fell silent, the boys entranced at your fucked out expression, limp on the bed with your skin decorated with their cum.

“fuck, wait till nico sees this.” jack was quick to pull out his phone, snapping a picture of you.

“there’s no leaving us now, baby doll.”

©cyberhughes; do not copy, translate or repost my work without permission.

[sc0tters]

Lessons in Bed | Nico Hischier & Luke Hughes

summary: when luke tells you his ex left him for his skills in bed, it's only right that you and your boyfriend give him a lesson he'd never forget

request: yes/no

warnings: sexual themes, threesome, swearing, unprotected sex, oral (f and m receiving!)

word count: 6.19k

authors note: this is the first time I have written a sub pairing, not entirely sure how i feel about it but it is definetly something that needs improvement so sorry about that... nevertheless this is a threesome that had no help on it and the last time we did that was like our first threesome. dom nico in this was something i could get used to 🤭

Parties at your place always seemed to go off a hit. 

Everyone loved the atmosphere of the apartment as they spoke or drank. The playlist you created was also always just what the environment needed to be perfect. Which is why you were so surprised to see him missing from the group. 

Luke Hughes had been someone you knew from the moment he had moved to New Jersey. Being Nico’s girlfriend meant that you knew all of the guys and oftentimes you were helping them settle in. Which was why you were so surprised when Luke was missing, this had always been more of his scene especially after college. 

Nico could see that your mind looked as if it was anywhere else “you okay schatz?” He called out over the music, letting his mouth hover close to your ear. 

You nodded as you sent him a smile “just looking for Luke.” You responded in the same tone as he took the chance to look “think he is in the kitchen?” Nico remembered seeing him in there when he got you a new drink. 

Nico’s hand went up to hold yours “you want me to come with?” His question made you smile “you don’t have to Neeks.” You shook your head before you planted a kiss on his cheek. 

Of course that meant he was coming with you, interlacing your hand with his before he made his way to the kitchen, always careful to not lose you in the crowd. Just like the captain had predicted, Luke stood in the kitchen staring at his drink. 

It made your lips form a pout “Lukey what are you doing in here?” His head shot up as he placed his phone in his pocket “just thinking.” The words were a blatant lie, clearly highlighted by the way his eyes avoided both you and Nico. 

You dropped Nico’s hand “y’know you can talk to either of us about anything.” Your voice was sweet while you made your way over to the youngest Hughes boy “it’s embarrassing.” Luke shook his head watching you both come further into the kitchen. 

Nico had to admit that he always thought Luke had some kind of crush on you, big or small, he knew it was there “you know we won’t judge you.” He added, crossing his arms “my girlfriend broke up with me.” His words made a soft laugh escape from your lips. 

You placed your hand on his shoulder “baby that’s nothing to be ashamed of,” you shook your head letting your lips form a frown “she did it because I wasn’t good in.” Luke let his head dip back to where your bedrooms were. 

It took Nico much longer to figure out what the boy was saying than you “that’s completely normal!” You scoffed knowing that you had a good reason for not liking her “it is?” Luke had this sad look on his face that made you curse his now ex for hurting him like this. 

Nico watched you run your fingers through the Americans hair “yeah like when we first started dating Nico wasn’t the best.” Nico knew all about the ways he needed to improve in the bedroom as you were his first serious relationship, so the lessons from hook ups were going to do him no good “he wasn’t?” Luke couldn’t believe that about his captain, the man who was usually so calm and collected who wore your scratches and hickies like a badge of honour was once bad in bed? 

Nico nodded, pushing his hair out of his face “but my girl turned out to be a damn good teacher and now I know all her spots.” Nico smirked as he leaned against the kitchen counter “you thinking what I’m thinking?” You asked Nico wanting to get his permission to offer it to the younger boy first.

The two of you had agreed that a threesome was something neither one of you was totally against, and in fact it was pretty high on both of your wish lists “Hughesy you promise you can keep this a secret f’me?” Your voice was sickly sweet in his ear as he nodded “promise.” Nico had to smirk at the way the boy was so desperate for your immediate praise. 

It made you smile that he was so responsive “how would you like us to show you how it’s done?” Your offer made him squirm “want to know what it feels like to fuck a girl properly?” Luke couldn’t help it when a moan escaped from his lips. 

You looked down to see that a bulge had formed in his jeans “I’m sorry.” He went to apologise but you and Nico were having none of that “Lukey it is natural.” You shook your head not worrying about it. 

That seemed to calm him down “can you teach me?” He didn’t know who he was really asking as you both nodded “when the party is over why don’t you stay and we can start?” Nico couldn’t help but laugh seeing how the Hughes boy’s face dropped at your words. 

Having to wait for at least an hour seemed like torture to him “Luke trust me.” Nico placed his hand on the boys shoulder “with the way my girl moans you’re gonna want us three to be the only ones here.” The captain explained, not missing how your cheeks turned red hearing his words. 

Luke swore he his heart pounded in his ears as he waited for the party to finish “you know where Luke is?” Jack asked looking down at his phone seeing that the boy had not responded to any of his messages “I am pretty sure he left with some girl.” Nico lied wrapping his arm around your waist. 

He looked to you to back him up “yeah Jack, I am so sorry he told me to tell you but I forgot.” The way you made it so convincing should have made Nico feel bad but it did anything but that “no worries.” Jack sighed pushing his phone back into his pocket. 

The Center sent you both a smile “have a good night.” You and Nico waved him off, feeling like you couldn’t get rid of him quickly enough “you sure you want to do this neeks?” You asked letting the door shut behind you. 

Your question made your boyfriend freeze “I do but only if it is something you’re comfortable with.” He looked to you for reassurance, not wanting to push you into something you didn’t want “I do Nico.” You nodded, pushing onto your tippy toes to kiss him. 

It made Nico smile “and besides watching you teach someone all I’ve taught you is gonna be like really hot.” Your words made him laugh “is that what you’re thinking about tonight?” He asked as your cheeks turned a shade of pink, meaning he was right. 

The captain pulled you into another kiss, wanting a moment just between the two of you before Luke got involved again “behave mister.” You warned feeling Nico’s hand squeeze your ass. 

It made him laugh as he raised his hands in surrender “apologises madam.” Nico teased watching you look for Luke “Luke baby!” You called out watching him walk out of the bathroom. 

His hands were in his hoodie pocket “hi.” His voice was quiet “you ready for this?” You asked him walking up to the boy. 

He didn’t want to admit it but god did you smell amazing “because if you want to leave at any time just say the words and we will end it.” You wanted Luke to know that even if you and Nico were teaching him, he had just as much power as the two of you did. 

Luke nodded “don’t want to go.” His words made you smile “now you said she didn’t like how you were in the bedroom?” You wanted to know where he needed your help, and if it was everywhere then you and Nico were happy to do that. 

The boy looked nervous “this is a safe space.” Nico reiterated the fact that you guys could all trust each other and that the events of the night would not be shared “she didn’t like anything.” Those words made your heart break for him. 

And it was clear that he could see that “can we like not talk about it.” He scratched the back of his neck not wanting sympathy from you as he was just going to feel embarrassed “kiss me.” Luke felt his eyes go wide at your words “c’mon Luke we have to start somewhere.” He nodded dropping his head down as he hit your nose with his. 

It caused a hiss to leave your lips as your eyes screwed shut, if you weren’t meant to be helping him Nico would have laughed “Luke bud you’re going about it all wrong.” Nico clicked his tongue hooking his finger into your jeans belt loop to pull you back to him “first you got to have some direction.” The captain spoke in a duh tone, placing his hands on your cheeks. 

His eyes were always such a warm place to you “and then you can look where you’re going before you get there.” He dropped his head to the point where his lips hovered over yours “some girls love it when you look between their eyes and their lips for a second.” Nico smirked seeing your smile as he was talking about you. 

You nodded “and then you can show her you’re in charge but don’t take her teeth out.” Your words were quiet as Nico kissed you. His tongue dragged across your lower lip, pulling you into a trance that made you whimper when he pulled away. 

It stroked his ego as he turned back to Luke “and don’t forget that you can move your hands around her body as you’re making out.” With that suggestion Nico stepped away, motioning to Luke to step into his place “just relax okay.” You were too good to Nico, Luke swore to himself. 

His hands rested right where Nico’s were before “hi.” He whispered looking at how beautiful you looked this close up. Luke’s lips were rougher than Nico’s as his tongue found its way into your mouth. 

It was a clear improvement as the boy also breathed from his nostrils while he let one hand travel to your ass and the other to your tits. He gave them a squeeze that made you moan, allowing him to deepen the kiss. 

Nico almost had to admit that he felt a little jealous seeing you all like that with someone else, he knew your body was responsive so he should have known it would end like this. As you pulled away from Luke his teeth softly tugged at your lower lip “think Lukey boy is a fast learner.” Nico teased the boy, seeing how your eyes were wide staring at the boy. 

Luke saw your frazzled state “should we move you to the bedroom?” Nico asked placing his hand in the back of your neck before he kissed you again. The American had to admit that watching how your boyfriend knew how to elicit the right reaction out of you, was hot. 

You smiled seeing Luke again “yeah.” You nodded taking his hand in yours while Nico lead the way. The room was one Luke had never seen before, always feeling like your bedroom was far too private for him to impose on “you like the place?” You asked running your finger along his jawline. 

Luke nodded “y-yeah.” His breath caught in his throat seeing the mischievous look on your face “so how do you finger a girl?” Nico’s question made you laugh. 

He rolled his eyes “I’m serious schatz we don’t even know if he knows where your clit or where your erogenous zones are.” Luke’s eyebrows furrowed proving that Nico had some ground to be right “like with her here her most sensitive zones are behind her ears.” Nico pressed a kiss against the back of your ear before he softly sucked on your earlobe making you moan. 

The captain smirked before he pulled away, making sure that Luke was still watching “her scalp.” His fingers ran through your hair making you squirm in the process “god wait until you get to play with these.” Nico couldn’t help but grunt when he gave your boobs a squeeze. 

Luke watched on in awe “and when I’m eating her out I’ll kiss the back of her knees and all down her thighs making sure she’s ready.” Luke nodded watching you look at Nico “Neeks think we should show him now.” Your words came with you pulling your top off. 

Your red bra complimented your skin “even though you are focusing on my cunt doesn’t mean that you can’t acknowledge my top half too.” You explained as you begin to kiss Luke again, but this time your lips didn’t stay on his for long, wanting to find his own sensitive zones. 

Nico unbuttoned your jeans as you sucked at Luke’s neck, drawing a moan from his lips “think we found it.” You licked your lips, stepping out of your jeans to reveal a matching set of underwear to the bra “fuck.” Luke whimpered letting his eyes screw shut. 

It made you let out a whine “Lukey baby I want you to feel me okay?” You asked taking his hand when he nodded “you feeling how wet I am through these?” You placed his hand against the wet patch on your panties. 

His knees almost buckled at the feeling when his eyes shot open “schatz stop teasing him and let him have a taste.” Nico’s words made you pout. But still you listened to your boyfriend and lay on the bed for both boys to see “why don’t you take her bra off?” Nico motioned to Luke to join you on the bed. 

It made the boy look to you like he was asking for your permission “I don’t bite.” You giggled seeing Nico raise his eyebrows, oh you definitely do. Luke brought his hand up behind you and unsnapped the bra with ease catching both you and Nico by surprise “did I do something wrong?” Luke grew nervous as he looked between the two of you. 

You shook your head, letting the bra fall to the bed “not many guys can do that with such ease.” You confessed going to kiss him again “schatz if you keep on kissing him he isn’t going to learn anything.” Nico teased you as he sat on the bench of your vanity watching the scenario unfold in front of him. 

Luke kissed at your shoulder “thought I was just being used to teach him.” You shot back sending him an amused grin as your fingers tugged at Luke’s curls “don’t start something you aren’t ready to keep up.” Nico warned getting up as he wasn’t going to let you be a brat. 

You smirked watching him look at Luke “c’mere Hughes she wants her pussy fucked.” The words made you press your legs together as Nico forced them open again “get her panties off.” Nico ordered making Luke nod. 

He followed the orders, slotting in between your legs “can you lift?” Luke asked making you push your thighs into the air so that he could take your panties off “shit.” The boy let out a low whistle finally pulling them off of your feet. 

Nico smirked at the sight that he loved so much “you want to show us what you normally do?” The captain sat on your side of the bed. Luke got himself comfortable between your legs while he went to spit on his fingers “why don’t you get her to do that?”Nico motioned to you as it always made you horny. 

Luke looked to you as you leaned forward, wrapping your lips around his fingers “fuck.” The Hughes boy let out a grunt feeling your tongue swirl around his digits “now start out easy with two.” Luke watched how your eyes screwed shut feeling his fingers thrust into your cunt. 

Your cunt stretched against his fingers “you want to get her ready so do this.” Nico did this scissoring motion with his fingers when he sat behind you. Your back rested against his chest “shit.” You moaned showing Luke that he was doing the right thing. 

You let your hips meet his thrusts “play with her clit.” Nico brushed your hair out of your face before he kissed at your neck. 

His eyes watched the Hughes boy totally miss your clit “you see this?” Nico asked taking his thumb as he rubbed against your sensitive bud, your head pressed against his shoulder as your boyfriend hit the right spot “if you’re just fingering her you want to do it like this.” Nico kissed your ear heading your breathing grow heavy. 

Your skin grew warm seeing two boys play with your cunt “but if you’re fucking her.” You watched Nico move his focus to the pads of his fingers on your clit which more pace “wanna try?” Your chest heaved using all of your energy to look at Luke. 

He nodded using his thumb like the older boy had “ain’t he a good listener?” Nico cooed watching how your hands tried to reach for your breasts, desperate to play with your sensitive peaks “Lukey think it’s time you use something different to make her feel good.” Nico’s suggestion came as he held your hands, stopping you from playing with your breasts. 

Luke watched the captain as he knew the suggestion came with some logic as you started to appear as if you were close. So Luke listened he retracted his fingers from your cunt watching in awe as he saw how your cunt glistened. 

You whimpered at the loss of contact “schatz don’t be a brat or else you won’t cum tonight.” The younger boy was surprised that someone could have the power over someone else, to have the ability to withhold a human reaction. 

Nico pulled away from behind you, setting you back flat on the bed “I love you.” He pressed his lips against your shoulder before he turned his attention to Luke “you gotta go gentle first.” His voice soothed you. 

You ran your fingers up your skin “please Lukey.” You begged, wishing that the boy would hurry up “baby be patience for him.” Nico clicked his tongue reminding you that tonight was meant to be for you to teach Luke, tomorrow Nico could have you screaming until your throat felt raw if you wanted it. 

Luke took this deep breath as if it was going to sooth his nerves. His head hovered over your cunt “uh uh Luke.” Nico shook his head, stopping the boy in the process “having sex isn’t just about fucking her pussy remember?” The captain ran his fingers along the inside of your thighs making you squirm. 

The Hughes boy nodded remembering about what you told him in the living room “there we go.” Nico smiled watching Luke kiss at the inside of your thighs. 

For someone who didn’t know what he was doing, he was methodical. Luke seemed to kiss you in the way that he divided his attention equally between your thighs, always hovering just close enough to your cunt that you swore he was finally going to start, but he never did. His eyes studied yours as he finally stopped “please Luke.” You begged feeling him place an open mouthed kiss on your cunt. 

It made you grip at the sheet beneath you “occasionally focus on fucking her with your tongue too.” The suggestion was ignored by the boy as he brought his fingers that he had used to now focus on your weeping hole “fuck baby.” You moaned looking at Nico who couldn’t help but smile. 

Luke found himself settling into a perfect rhythm, occasionally looking back up at you “please Lukey.” You begged wanting more as he inserted another finger into your cunt “this greedy slut likes it when you do this.” Nico showed the boy how to turn his fingers into this come hither motion to get deeper into your cunt. 

The Hughes boy sent him what was only a glance before he listened, turning his attention to you in order to ensure it was working. His fingers grazed your g-spot, causing your body to jolt “there we go Lukey boy.” Nico praised the boy making Luke moan. 

Luke almost slotted into the motions, bringing his free hand up to cup your breast. His fingers rolled your nipple between them, tugging at the peak “don’t stop.” You shook your head feeling your thighs begin to shake “she’s gonna finish and you want that right?” Nico pushed Luke with the encouragement that it worked like a wildfire. 

His lips sucked at your clit, swirling his tongue around the bud “fuck yeah.” Luke spoke against your cunt sending shivers through your body “c’mon schatz let him see what it’s like to have a pretty girl cum on your tongue.” Nico cooed drawing circles on your shoulder with his thumb. 

Luke didn’t relent, letting your moans bounce off of the walls making him feel like a moth to a flame “shit Lukey please don’t stop.” Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as your body shook “right there a-a-ahhh.” Your eyes screwed shut when your cunt clenched around his fingers while your body spasmed. 

White specks cast over the black that your eyelids brought upon you “oh god oh god!” You chanted as Luke helped you ride through your orgasm. But then it turned into him just being hungry, as he continued to lap at your release “no Lukey.” You tugged at his hair, wanting to pull him off of you. 

He let you kiss him, tasting your sweet release on his tongue made you feel lightheaded bringing him back onto you as you lay on the bed felling his boner that his shorts did little to hide, graze against your cunt “shit.” You gasped feeling your eyes widen. 

Luke laughed against your shoulder, echoing your same emotions “doll why don’t you thank him for treating ya?” Nico’s words made you nod. You rolled out from under the boy as you patted the bed for him “sit.” You ordered him. 

The boy obliged seeing the hunger in your eyes “you gonna let me taste ya?” You asked running your hand over the material of his shorts “please.” Luke whimpered, feeling his cock push to your hand. 

Nico remembered what it was like to be in that position because you had this power to turn him into putty, and that’s what caused him to raise a smack to your ass “ah!” You whimpered almost jumping out of your skin at the sensation “don’t be mean and tease him schatz.” The captain clicked his tongue sending you an unimpressed look. 

It made you frown turning to him with a pout “fine.” You huffed reaching for the waistband of Luke’s shorts “gonna lift up for me pretty boy?” You asked causing him to push his hips up into the air, allowing you to tug at his shorts bringing them down with his boxers. 

His cock ached for some attention, for you “god.” He moaned watching you run your thumb over the swollen head. The precum oozed out of it working as some kind of shitty variation of lube. You let your eyes lock onto his as you pooled your saliva in your mouth before you let it drop into his cock. 

Luke swore he was dreaming as he watched you do these little kitten licks against his cock. Nico stood behind you dropping his pants as he pumped his cock once and then a second time “you gonna let him fuck your mouth while I fuck your cunt maus?” You moaned at the thought when you nodded. 

Nico dragged the head of his cock along your slit wanting to not let his teammate get all of the fun that you could give “shit schatz.” Nico moaned feeling your cunt hug his cock, your walls stretching to accommodate him. 

As a moan went to escape from your lips you let your lips wrap around Luke’s cock. The warmth your mouth provided made Luke almost fall forward “yeah dude she sucks dick like a slut.” Nico laughed watching your hand massage Luke’s balls. 

Your cunt squelched as your previous orgasm was more than enough in terms of lube for Nico’s cock to throb with some thrusts “but that is what you love, huh?” Nico taunted you, as the feeling of your cunt clenching around him was not something that he failed to miss. Your words of agreement were muffled, but when your head bobbed with Lukes’s cock hitting your throat, it was clear what you were thinking “cap if she was mine I wouldn’t share.” Luke almost didn’t realise the line he walked on, he was dangerously close to pissing Nico off if he continued saying shit like this then Nico was more than likely going to take it out on your cunt. 

And you could already feel him doing it; his fingers pinched at your thighs “part of having a girl.” Nico grumbled, watching Luke grab your hair into a makeshift ponytail “is knowing when to listen.” Nico would never have dreamed of offering this to Luke, but you did, and Nico couldn’t say no to you.

You moaned wanting to let out a giggle if it had been a more appropriate time “glad you did.” Luke confessed, watching you look up at him through your now ruined mascara “good teachers.” He felt your throat gag around his cock making him grunt. The moment of silence made Nico smirk, finally having the boy shut up was the real stroke to his ego.

Luke squirmed beneath your touch, feeling your cheeks hollow out with your tongue swirling around the underside of his cock.

Nico thrust into you with such pace that the sound of your skin slapping against his echoed throughout the apartment, you were sure of it “fuck Neeks.” You let your lips pop from Lukes cock, quickly replacing your mouth with your hand “you wanna cum sweet girl?” He didn’t even need to wait for you to answer before he moved his hand to rub against your clit “please.” You begged feeling your legs begin to shake as Nico had to also keep you from collapsing.

You continued to focus on fucking the younger boys cock in your hand “thrust your hips baby.” You cooed sending Luke a nod “I-i can’t.” Luke shook his head, not sure if he had the energy to complete the task. 

Nico hissed feeling you clench around his cock, almost making him forget how to breathe “when you get told to do something Luke, you do it no?” Nico used his captains tone that made you rest your head on Luke’s thigh “schatz look at him when he finally behaves.” He made you pull your head off of Luke’s thigh as his fingers tugged at your hair.

Luke watched your eyes open as he saw how Nico held you up with his hands in your hand. He felt overcome by pleasure, just needed that little bit more as he begun to push his hips into your hand. 

Nico nodded with a grunt as his tongue ran across his teeth “ain’t he a good boy schatz.” You let out this harsh whimper “such a good boy.” Your coos sent Luke over the edge causing sticky ropes of his release to shoot into your hand. 

Tears formed in his waterline “please.” Luke shook his head, not sure that he could take much more, thinking that he was already feeling hard again “you want her to cum?” Nico quizzed the boy who nodded. 

Luke could see the desperation on your face “tell her that.” The captain ordered his teammate “fuck doll.” Luke coughed feeling your hand finally slow on his cock. 

The Hughes boy had to think about his words “wanna see you make a mess okay?” Your tits throbbed as your cunt clenched hearing those words “you think that you can do that f’me?” Luke used his fingers to roll your nipples between them, causing your moans to sound like music in your ears.

Nico didn’t know how much longer he could take “c’mon liebling, show him how pretty you look when you cum on a cock.” Those words sent you over the edge 

Your eyes screwed shut as your head dropped when Nico let your hair go “fucking hell.” As you came around his cock it caused his own orgasm to come on “just like that.” Nico bit down on his lower lip as his head fell back, slowing his thrusts down before he pulled his cock out. 

The captain rubbed his thumb in these soft circles against the hip, watching how his release oozed out of your cunt. Trickling down your slit to your clit “you got one more in ya?” It was the first coherent sentences that you could form in a while “me?” Luke asked blinking heavily. 

Nico let out a snort as he turned your head so he could kiss you “I sure as shit know she wasn’t talking to me.” Nico pointed out, knowing that he could last for at least three rounds “schatz show him how good this cunt feels.” The captain stared at Luke as he cupped your pussy. 

Luke felt his mouth water at the sight of you letting out another moan “I don’t think I can fuck you.” The boy shook his head feeling like his legs were jelly “who said I couldn’t ride ya?” You tapped his legs motioning to him to set his legs straight. 

His eyes shut as the image became too strong in his mind “you can say no Lukey.” You reminded him of his rights as you sat on your heels in front of him “no I want to.” He was quick to shake his head, sending you a smile. 

You nodded, watching him pull you onto his lap. His legs pushed you up “you sure?” Nico had to smile from the corner of your bed where he sat, hearing how you were still making sure that he was comfortable “yeah I am.” Luke took the chance to kiss you. 

His tongue past your lips making you mewl at the contact. Your hand found its way between the two of you “off.” You tugged at his hoodie now wanting him naked too. 

Luke listened, letting your hands do the work as you brought it up to his chest before you pulled away, “just taking it off.” You smirked hearing him whimper at the loss of contact. 

His cheeks turned red, feeling grateful that his hoodie being pulled off of his head did a lot to hide the initial warmth that spread to his cheeks “such a pretty boy.” You cooed letting a grin form on your lips as you drank in the sight of his now messy curls. 

Your hand went back down between the two of you so you could grab his cock, your hands were delicate, softly palming him “please.” Luke rested his head against your headboard, feeling you lazily drive the head of his cock across your slit. Nico began to palm at himself, enjoying the view from behind “fuck him schatzi.” Nico clicked his tongue, growing irritated at the teasing.

You sank onto his cock letting your nails tense around his shoulders, he wasn’t as thick as Nico but Luke’s cock made your cunt hug his walls differently “move please.” Luke softened his grip around your hips “such a polite boy.” You nodded, slowly moving your hips seeing his eyes look back at you. 

He studied your face, noticing every little beauty spot and imperfection that made you, well, you. It made him smile when he realised that your eyes had been locked on his “you feel yourself?” You asked bringing his hand onto your lower stomach and making him press his into your skin. 

Luke was more impressed that he could get that deep than anything else “shit you’re perfect.” The compliment made Nico nod, agreeing that the boy was indeed not stupid “I am gonna fuck you now okay?” You asked the boy, bringing your legs to either side of him so that you could properly work yourself on his cock, knowing that you were not going to last for long. 

And judging by how he watched you like a cat who found a warm spot on a winter day, Luke was excited for you to continue. Your one hand rested on his thigh behind you as the other gripped at his shoulder while you brought your cunt up and down his cock. Careful to never fully pull off of him before you slammed back down feeling his crotch graze against your clit. 

The movement was steady making Nico feel a little jealous that it wasn’t him beneath you “fuck you feel so good.” You moaned not sure of how much longer you could last. 

His cock throbbed against your cunts gummy walls, hearing the sound of your skin hitting his causing his forehead to turn slick with sweat. His eyes watched your breasts bounce with every thrust you had on his cock. 

Luke was desperate to feel more of you “kissy?” He whined making you smile. You brought your hand up the side of his neck to his curls “so sweet when you talk so nice.” You praised him as you tugged at his hair. 

The feeling made the boy moan, pursing his lips to kiss you “such a good boy.” You cooed as you finally gave him what he wanted. 

Your lips were soft against his, making him grunt while he sucked at your lower lip “shit schatzi keep on doing you.” Nico felt his eyes screw shut as his cock oozed his sticky release in his hand “you see how much Neeks likes this?” You pulled away from the boy allowing him to see your swollen lips. 

Luke nodded feeling close to tears as his brain was on fire “like it too.” Luke looked down to see how your pussy looked fucking his cock. 

Your release that had mixed with Nico’s creamed around his cock “play with those tits.” Nico ordered making you nod as it was what you were desperate to feel.

His tongue swirled around you nipple while he fondled the other tit “fuck baby you wanna cum inside?” You were on the pill and at that moment not thinking about STDs “god yes.” Luke moaned against your boob causing the vibrations against your skin to go straight to your core. 

Your fingers strummed against your clit like you were playing the guitar, not sure if you were still helping him or if you were now using him for your orgasm “fuck doll right there.” Luke let out a grunt feeling your thrusts grow irregular making your body thrash around on him. 

His warm release painted the walls of your cunt, bringing your own orgasm on. You chanted his name from your lips, making it sound angelic as your cunt clenched around him, gushing on his cock. Your head fell forward when he let your boob go, allowing you to rest your head against his shoulder. A whimper escaped your lips when you accidentally moved, feeling him still inside of you “you okay?” Lukes voice was soft, watching you use what energy you had to pick yourself off of his cock before you collapsed next to him. 

This was always Nico’s favourite part of the night, seeing you almost too fucked to speak, “I’ll get your bath ready.” Nico chuckled as he got up, squeezing your ankle “her bath?” Luke looked between you both as he was back to being confused. 

Nico rolled his eyes, starting to realise why the boy was having girl issues “now it’s time for your next lesson.” Nico motioned to Luke to follow him as Nico picked you up to bring you to go pee “aftercare and the importance of it.” Nico’s voice soothed you, it made your eyelids feel heavy when you rested your head against your boyfriend’s chest while Luke shut the door behind the three of you. 

Clearly, their night wasn’t over, but it wasn’t where the story ended either.

Luke felt his head hit the wall behind him “s-s-shit!” He moaned feeling his eyes screwed shut as he squeezed his hand around his cock continuing to thrust into his palm at a strong pace edging his orgasm. 

Jack walked into the apartment, still surprised that Luke didn’t come with him to the morning skate as he wasn’t the usual Hughes brother to skip it “fuck oh don’t stop y/n!” The moan came from Luke’s lips as he reached his high making Jack freeze where he stood by the door.

Did his younger brother have a crush on his captain’s soon-to-be fiancée?