#if you don’t have a Stanley cup

[crossbackpoke-check]

Dysprosium, Mary Soon Lee

dysprosium, AN 66, is a silvery-white rare earth metal. its name is derived from the greek dysprositos, meaning “hard to get at”, owing to the difficulty in separating and isolating this rare earth element. dysprosium is used to measure neutron flux, to fuel reactors, and to activate phosphors. terfenol-d is a magnetorestrictive alloy, meaning that it changes shape when a magnetic field is applied, and is used to manufacture underwater acoustic systems.

jason “robo” robertson, dallas stars #21 for @simmyfrobby’s nhl periodic table poems <3

[needle-rose]

I will forever be gnashing my teeth that the Stanley Cup has become cultural shorthand for trend-chasing, influencer-driven overconsumption.

Why?

Because their logo is a Bear with Wings wearing a Crown. (!!!!!) One could not devise a design more catnip to my precise aesthetic and thematic interests than that!

I have no need of a Stanley product, and so can only pine for the universe in which that logo belonged to some group/brand/product/artist I could enthusiastically support.

[junkiepunkie]

I am a slut for mugs. A dirty whore for cups. Tankards? Dick me down. I am but a hole for Champaign flutes. Fuck me up novelty water bottles.

I. NEED. ALL. THE. DRINK. RECEPTICALS. NOW!!!

[sleepyhoon]

SAY YOU LOVE ME. — TRAILER

starring lee heeseung, park sunghoon, and you.

“ i know you like her, so do something about it „

syn. your once bold and confident figure skating partner — park sunghoon — has grown shy, stiff, and timid around you now that your routines have crossed the line from friendly intimacy to borderline sensual. with an upcoming performance at the annual figure skating convention on the line, you’re worried your partner’s incompetence could cost you opportunities to further your careeres. your boyfriend, heeseung, however seems to have the perfect solution to get sunghoon back on track.

running time. est 15k+

release date. mid to late january 2025

tickets. taglist open — reply to join or join my perm taglist here

rating. NC-17 :: mentions of dieting and harsh workouts, mentions of anxiety. swearing, alcohol consumption & drinking games. sexually explicit content in the form of — voyeurism, rough sex, cunnilingus, spit, fingering, multiple creampies, cum eating, slight mxm content, soft dom!hoon, mean dom!hee.

director’s note. surprise!! in honor of hitting 2.5 billion followers here is a teaser of my gift to you all! possibly my fave thing i’ve written in all my years of writing fanfics so this is extra special to me! hope you enjoy it, and special thanks to my angel @intromortal for designing the banners, dividers, and layout <3

— TRAILER

running time. 500+ || rating. PG-13

“I have a theory,” Heeseung pauses, taking a sip from your Stanley Cup as you quirk a brow at him, “about Sunghoon.”

It’s not often that Heeseung actively engages in conversations regarding your skating partner, so your curiosity is piqued. “What about him?”

Your boyfriend shrugs, setting your tumbler on the ground before slipping his boxing gloves back on, “About his, uh…date. I don’t think he’s into Jisu like he said he was.”

You snort, leaning your head against the rugged brick wall as you watch Heeseung give the punching bag a few light taps. “Trust me, I figured that out by now. I just don’t understand why he’d lie about liking someone.”

Heeseung glances at you for a moment, shaking his head at the fact that you clearly didn’t understand Sunghoon’s dilemma. “He definitely likes someone, just not her.”

“Then who?”

“You seriously don’t know?”

You throw your arms up in mock frustration, “How am I supposed to? He doesn’t talk to me about girls or his love life.”

Heeseung chuckles, mumbling “I bet” under his breath as he lands harder hits on the punching bag. “Sunghoon likes you, YN, that’s why the date with Jisu didn’t go well. That’s why he can barely even look you in the eye and why it’s so awkward skating with him now.”

“Your routines are so fucking — ugh — romantic now, and he’s obviously into you. He probably — ugh! — feels guilty, or some shit.” Heeseung punches grow harsher and harsher as he speaks, pausing every so often to let out a loud grunt as his fists connect with the leather.

Dumbfounded, you stare down at your sneakers in awe. You’d never imagined the possibility of Sunghoon having a crush on you, but Heeseung’s theory makes more sense than you’d like to admit.

“But, why would he tell me-”

“Because you fucking cornered him and demanded he tell you who he liked.” Heeseung interrupts, already knowing what your question was, “He was probably seconds away from pissing himself and blurted out the first girl he could think of.”

“I did not corner him.”

Heeseung rolls his eyes, using his forearm to wipe the sweat off his brow, “Whatever, just pointing out that you probably scared him.”

You sigh, awkwardly toying with your shoelaces as you mumble, “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know you didn’t, baby,” Heeseung ducks around the punching bag a few times, pretending he’s in a ring with an opponent as you stifle a laugh at him, “he was just nervous, is all.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do about this? His … crush on me is making it impossible for us to skate together, and I can’t do much about it.”

Heeseung allows his arms to fall to his side, chewing on his bottom lip as he gazes at the beat-up punching bag. There’s one idea that may just work, and maybe it’ll be enough to get you out of Sunghoon’s system just enough for him to go back to normal, or at least learn to not be so nervous around you.

“What if, for one night, we just … let him have you?”

Before you go to respond, Heeseung delivers another heavy punch to the bag, watching silently with a tense jaw as it breaks off the chain and falls to the ground.

[timbitshockey]

i’ve been thinking a lot about that article that interviewed these rich white 19-20 year old kids who voted for trump and how so many of them said they did it because they were tired of being told what they couldn’t say and wanted to be able to make offensive jokes again. the world we live in is so individualistic and devalues empathy to such an insane degree.

so it’s like, do i think every player who went to the white house is a trump supporter who voted for him? no, probably not. but the league is, by a vast majority, full of rich white men who likely grew up in rich white communities in a sport that devalues empathy and places so much weight on tradition. so they don’t care. going to meet the president is part of the experience of winning the stanley cup and they want the full traditional experience and they don’t care about the current political climate or what being photographed smiling and thanking trump for his time is going to look or feel like to the people who are actually effected the most by what he’s done and what he’s threatening to do. they don’t care. they want to do the fun thing they earned for playing hockey good. it’s just depressing.

and like to be clear this isn’t a way of removing agency from these guys. lots of people grew up in environments like them and managed to break free of those ingrained messages and care about other people. most of these guys just don’t want to. they don’t want to think about politics beyond whether they’ll get fired for saying slurs and if they have to wear rainbow jerseys one night a year. is every player who didn’t use pride tape after travis dermott did homophobic? no. they just don’t care enough.

which is i guess sort of the problem with sports fandom, and something we have to sit with whenever these situations happen. these are real people. they’re not characters on a show who have plot lines and character arcs. and people are often disappointing.

i don’t know if i’m going anywhere with this. i guess maybe i’d like to remind us all to be kind to each other. to be empathetic. we’ve all got our different lines in the sand for what makes players persona non gratas to us and trying to use that as a gotcha for fandom beef can only really come back to bite us. what am i gonna say to a matthew tkachuck fan when sidney crosby did the same thing when the pens won in 2017? id like to think the players i support would be different but realistically they probably wouldn’t. florida fans and tkachuk fans are in the spot they’re in because their team won the cup, not because the team and players are uniquely more evil or more trump-supporting than anyone else. i don’t want to gotcha anyone. we’re all out here trying to have fun in our sandboxes in a world where empathy is a weakness and people who really matter to us disappoint and hurt us, sometimes just by not caring at all.

anyway. i try not to get into real life stuff too much on here and this will likely be the last i say on the subject. love you guys & i hope the world is kinder to us all soon

[gay-dorito-dust]

You almost felt yourself surcom to sleep the moment Ford cupped your face between his hands, gently caressing your cheeks.

‘Exhausted my dear?’ He asks barely above the whisper.

‘Very,’ you admit as you slowly closed your eyes, leaning into his touch, ‘and the coffee isn’t helping.’ You added while Ford chuckled and pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, smiling. ‘Then sleep my dear, you are not missing anything of great importance.’ He reassured you but you groaned, wanting nothing more than to keep Ford company while he did his work, but it seemed as though your body betrayed you by making you sleepy before midnight struck.

‘Do I have to?’ You asked.

‘You can barely keep your eyes open and have been slowly leaning your entire bodyweight against me. If that’s not evident enough that your body is calling for you to go to sleep, then you should listen to it.’ Ford then began to escort you to your room by placing his hand firmly against the small of your back.

‘I’m not- I can stay awake a little longer, promise.’ You pleaded with him but Ford wasn’t about to give into them so easily, he did that before but that was mainly because of the soft spot he had for you that Stanley never stopped teased him about, much to his dismay.

‘I’m sure that’s the case on most days but today’s not one of them my sweet.’ He laughs as he pressed a kiss to the side of your head, finding your want to keep him company sweet, but he’d much rather you rest then run the risk of potential insomnia. ‘But it’s better that you get the sleep you need, don’t worry about me.’ He adds.

‘But will you join me right? You won’t stay up late?’ You asked half asleep, struggling to keep your eyes open for more than a few seconds.

‘Soon my dear, I’ll join you soon after I finish something I’ve been working on.’ Ford promised as he helped easy you into bed, tucking you in tight and was about to leave you be when you grasped his hand. ‘Promise?’

Ford smiled softly as he kissed your forehead. ‘Promise.’

[bloodibambiidoll]

What would happen if weird!girl was there during the scene with Hollis instead of Sophia?

(This is based off two asks I got. One about weird!girl finally clapping back & one about her being there during this scene. Also thank you for being so patient with me ik it’s been a while since I posted about them !!) Jealously/possessiveness, choking, hair pulling, unprotected sex, mentions of weird!girl & another man in the past, breeding kink 18+

You know it’s absolutely irrational to be as pissed off as you are right now. But watching Hollis bat her spider leg eyelashes and pucker her years full of filler smudged red lips at your fiancé while she leans over the table with her tits pushed out is making you want to rip her head off. At the beginning of you and Rafe’s relationship you probably would’ve ran in the bathroom and cried because you didn’t feel like you were right for him. You’re not that girl anymore. Rafe has given you so much confidence and security that now you’re walking toward them with a smug smile painted on your face. Everyone on the island knows you and Rafe are engaged and if she thinks you’re going to let her walk all over you like some scared little girl she can think the fuck again.

Your platform boots click against the stone floor as you march across the outdoor seating area with a purpose. Rafe’s scotch is clutched tightly in your ringed hand and the cold condensation on the glass is a welcome cool in comparison to the fire in your veins. Your tiny black dress whooshes as you walk, the slight breeze kicking it up just enough to almost show your ass that’s covered in Gucci fishnets. You’re sick and tired of everyone walking all over you. Men scoff at you and look down on Rafe for being with you. Women constantly flirt with him in front of you like you’re not even there and you’re at your limit. You slide your way under your fiancé’s arm and tuck yourself into his side before holding his drink to him.

“Here’s your drink, baby.” You look up at him with a devilish little smirk and he sends you one of those signature Rafe Cameron smirks right back. His eyes flash from your own to your lips to your tits before he grabs the glass from your hand and places a kiss on your temple.

“Aww, who’s this?” Hollis breaks you and Rafe out of your bubble, making you snap your head toward her with a look that could kill.

“You’re joking, right?” You scoff, and push past Rafe so you can get right up in her face. You paint a condescendingly sweet smile on your lips as your eyes roam over her form. It’s obvious her days as resident cougar are numbered, the build up of Botox is starting to make her face look puffy and that lipstick looks awful with her skin tone. She even has a little bit smeared on her teeth and you can tell she’s slightly tipsy.

“Not only have I lived on this island my entire fucking life, I used to fucking take care of your dogs when you and your husband - oops I mean, ex husband used to go on your little vacations.” You cup your hand onto the side of your cheek and lean in even closer to her so you can whisper-yell in her ear. “You know, before you cheated on him so much he couldn’t take it anymore. Such a waste really, he’s such a sweet, handsome man…”

“Excuse me?” Hollis quickly leans back and scoffs, her hand flying to her chest as if you hit her. Her eyes show a flash of hurt before hardening. “You really ought to learn some respect, young lady. I don’t think you realize what kind of pull I have around here. I could ruin you.” Her lips wear a sinister smile that you assume she thinks is threatening but it just makes you laugh.

“No, I think you need to learn some respect, actually.” You return her smile, but yours is far more sinister than anything she could ever muster up because the minute that Stanley Kubrick esc grin stretches across your lips the one on her own drops and she takes a step back. But you just take a step forward, staying inches away from her face while you tilt your head to the side. “Everyone on this goddamn island already can’t stand me. And they all know Rafe Cameron is mine. But only you and I know that Mr. Robison sought comfort in a young, tight, pussy when you first started stepping out on him.”

“You really are and always have been such a vile little girl.” She sneers down at you and you know you hit the exact nerve you were aiming for. “Jealousy really isn’t a cute look, by the way, dear.”

“It’s not jealousy. It’s possession.” Hollis has gradually been taking steps back from you as the conversation has gone on but you close the distance between the two of you so you can lean up and whisper directly in your ear. “Now get the fuck away from my man before I choke you so hard your eyes pop out of your skull.”

“Ugh! You are a psychotic little bitch!” Hollis stomps her red bottom heeled foot onto the ground with a low growl before turning and stomping off.

“Whose acting like a little girl now!” You yell after her with a laugh and it earns you a glare over her shoulder that you return with laughter. You’re still practically cracking up when you turn to face Rafe who is staring down at you like a deer caught in the headlights. “You good baby? Thought you’d be proud of me.” You pout and your boyfriend's expression hardens as he grabs your wrist and pulls your body flush against his own.

“Oh, bats. I’m proud of you for standing on business, but…” Rafe's large hand grabs onto the back of your neck as leans down so he can practically growl into your ear. “You have some serious fuckin’ explaining to do. Mr. Robinson, huh? You fuck him?”

“And if I did? That was literally years ago before you ever thought twice about me, I think you’ll live.” Your voice holds a hint of defiance that you know for a fact is going to get your ass handed to you very shortly but if you’re being honest, that’s exactly what you want. It’s been a minute since you got Rafe riled up enough to fuck you until you can’t walk.

“You are so fucked. Car. Now. Start walking.”

-

“Tell me whose fuckin’ pussy this is.” Rafe has you bent over the arm of your expensive leather couch while his cock pounds deep into your dripping walls and his large palm shoves your face into the cushion below you. He ripped your dress over your head and tore your brand new gucci tights open at the crotch the minute he got you through the door. Your ass is beat red and decorated with welts the shape of his designer belt, your drool is dripping down your chin and your vision is blurry from your mascara running down your eyes. He fucking loves you like this.

“It’s yours! My whole body belongs to you, daddy!” The attitude you had earlier on in the night is starting to slip and you’re getting to the point that all you want is to come on Rafe’s cock as many times as he will allow you to. And so far? He’s been edging you for the last forty minutes.

“Yeah, that’s fuckin’ right. You’re my little whore.” Rafe’s fingers lace through your hair, his nails scratching your scalp as he gathers the strands between his digits and pulls them tight so he can yank your head back. He uses his grip for leverage as he continues to pound into you relentlessly. “Don’t wanna think about any other man touching you. Especially not some old fuck. As far as I’m fuckin’ concerned you were a virgin when we met.”

“Well, I wasn’t even close… Does that make you mad, daddy?” You let out a borderline evil chuckle as you let your tongue lull from your mouth while you look over your shoulder at him. His blue eyes are practically black from how dilated his pupils are, his nostrils are flared, and his lips are set into a snarl. You can’t help it that you love him like this. “Does it just drive you crazy that you’re not the only dick that’s been in this tight little pussy?”

“Shut your bratty little mouth, did I not beat that ass hard enough yet, huh? Do I need to pull out and make you watch me jerk off while I nut all over your dumb little face and leave you with nothing but a mess to clean up?” Rafe’s nails dig deeper into your scalp when his grip on your hair tightens. He pulls your back flush against his chest while his hips plow into yours, his thick cock stretching you out over and over with each thrust.

“What about you, huh?” You lace your arm around Rafe’s neck so you can drag your pointed nails down his skin. “Resident man slut? This all started because you were letting that dumb old bag fawn all over you with her tits in your face.”

Rafe pulls out of you and uses your hips to flip you onto your back. Your legs are dangling over the arm of the couch and your top half is bent flat against the cushion, propping your hips up so your pussy is on display to him. He lands a smack on your sopping wet cunt that verberates through the room and you barely have time to process before he’s dealing you with another one. His broad frame looms over you when he leans down to grip onto your throat and pin you to the plush leather.

“I was just appeasing her cause’ she was offering me a way I could make us more money.” He hits your pussy again before landing harsh smacks on your clit in succession. Rafe’s palm cups your cunt and he uses the heel of it to rub your clit roughly while he squeezes your throat so tight you see stars. He toys with your entrance with his thick fingers and then spreads your juices on his shaft. He pumps himself a few times before slamming back inside of you in one thrust. “You really think I’d ever trade this perfect fuckin’ cunt for anything in the world? You think you can go around talking about fucking men old enough to be your dad in front of me and not expect me to mark my territory? I’m gonna cover you in my fuckin’ cum.”

“Sounds like somebody is jealous.” You lick your lips and smile widely up at him while the hand on your throat makes your vision go fuzzy. The sound that leaves Rafe is near animalistic, he grips onto your thigh with his free hand and pins it to the arm of the couch. It spreads you wide and gives him the perfect view of his thick cock covered in your creamy juices as it slams inside you over and over again.

“It’s not jealousy, it’s possession.” Rafe mocks your words from earlier, his hand nearly cutting off your air supply before letting go and grabbing onto the back of your hair. He uses his grip to yank you up off the cushion and force your head down until you can see where you’re connected. His thrusts never falter as he manhandles you like a ragdoll.

“You see that shit? See your greedy little pussy swallowing my dick like it was made for her? Tell daddy again who owns that shit. Drop the attitude and tell me you’re my fuckin’ whore if you wanna come.”

“I’m your whore! Please let me come!” You whine as you writhe beneath him, your final resolve leaving you when he grabs onto both your wrists, suspending your back off the couch as he uses his grip on you to pull you back to meet his rapid thrusts.

“Yeah, that’s right, you’re my perfect little fuck doll. Mine to use, as I please, when I please.” You wrap your legs around his hips to pull him impossibly deeper and it has him growling and twitching inside you. “You gonna be a good girl and take my fuckin’ cum? Let me put a baby in you so all these bitches really know who you belong to?”

“Yes, fuck! Please give me your cum, wanna make you a daddy!” Rafe lets your body fall back down onto the couch so he can lean over you with his hands on either side of your head as he pumps his hips deep and hard into you. The angle has him hitting deeper than ever and each glide of his hips has his skin rubbing against your throbbing clit.

“Come on my cock, milk that shit, baby.” It’s like your body is programmed to listen to his words because that’s all it takes to have your walls pulsing around him as you gush around his thick shaft. You lean up and bite his chest before sucking hard on his skin, marking your territory. A few more rough thrusts of his hips and Rafe is coming right along with you. “Such a good girl, such a perfect, tight, pussy. Gonna give you a fuckin’ baby.” He babbles as his cock twitches inside of you and fills you with ropes of his cum. When he comes down from his high his body slumps against yours, his huge frame pining you awkwardly to the couch.

“Fuck.” You giggle as you wrap your arms around his neck and run your nails along his buzzed head. “That was so hot. But, you’re crushing me with your giant fucking body.”

“Yeah? I think you deserve it. I don’t think that was punishment enough for fucking Mr. Robinson before we ever got together.” Rafe groans dramatically as he lets more of his weight crush you.

“Well. I think you’ll be delighted to know that I never fucked him.” You say it in a sing-song tone that has Rafe’s head shooting up and his blue eyes locking with yours. “We just sexted. She found the pics on his phone and lost her shit.”

“Oh! You are such a little shit!” He pushes himself up off the couch and points down at you in mock accusation. “You let me think you fucked him so I would beat your lil’ ass, didn’t you?” Rafe chuckles and your hand flies to your chest while you look up at him with your mouth agape.

“What?!” You gasp. “I would never push your buttons for sexual gain. That would be insane.”

“You are such a fuckin’ brat, ya know that?” Rafe smiles as he pulls you off the couch and against his chest. “I ought to bend you over again, over my knee this time.”

“What was all that about giving me a baby?” You wiggle your eyebrows at him and he glares down at you. “Was that just horny talk or does somebody have baby fever?”

“You know what?” He grabs you and tosses you over his shoulder despite your protests. “I’m gonna spank you till you cry and then fuck you full of my cum until you’re begging me to put a baby in you.”

Tagging mooties & weird!girl lovers: @babygorewhore @cxrrodedcoffin @starkeysprincess @nemesyaaa @oceandriveab @munson-mjstan @cameronsprincess @rafeinterlude @sturnioloshacker @traceymbcm

Divider by @anitalenia

All things Rafe & his weird!girl here

[hhughes]

❍⌇𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐂𝐊 — 𝐐𝐇𝟒𝟑 ‧₊˚ ꒱

pairing: fem!celeb!singer x quinn hughes

summary: in which a famous singer from vancouver reveals her crush on quinn and the internet goes crazy.

genre: social media fic

fc: sabrina carpenter

note: part 2 of this! you’ve waited long enough! thank you for being patient and I hope the wait was worth it! thanks for all the love on the first part and as always I’d love to hear what you think! there might be a third and last part where they hard launch? idk yet

taglist: @alwaysclassyeagle @bunbunbl0gs @elliegator @trevuorzegras @hischierswhore @elliefind @goldenfinchs-blog

nhl

liked by quinnhughes, trevorzegras, and others.

nhl: the STARS have arrived in Toronto!🤩 tune in at 8PM ET to watch the 2024 NHL ALL-STARS draft!

view all comments

user63: she’s literally so stunning. i’m sick.

user52: need the quinn and y/n content ASAP admin

ynluvr: only here for y/n ngl

user33: don’t know why some people get so pressed about y/n performing. she’s canadian, and she’s blowing up rn. she brings in a lot of fans for the league… it’s a genius marketing move imo

⤷ user43: great. just what we need more people pretending to be fans of the game when they don’t know shit about it. she probably doesn’t know anything about it either.

⤷ user33: she grew up in Vancouver and she’s been a canucks fan since she was a little kid. she posts more about going to their games than she does about her own music and that says a lot. she also played when she was younger so I think it’s safe to say she knows a fair amount about the game!

user12: MOTHER😩

yourusername

liked by jackhughes, quinnhughes, and others.

yourusername: got to do something super cool last night. still in shock I think😭 thank you @.nhl 🩷

view all comments

nhl: thank YOU🤩 we’re still in awe of that performance. you definitely stole the show

bestfriend: did you dress like the stanley cup on purpose?

⤷ yourusername: manifesting myself to be something he wants

⤷ y/nfan: does manifestation work queen? 🙏

⤷ yourusername: 👀

⤷ user54: she did not😭💀

⤷ user77: so real of you bestie

user73: she’s just like us🫠

⤷ user99: down bad for that man. I could treat you so much better queen

yn.luvr: I NEED to know if they’re dating

⤷ user75: they’re following each other now👀

⤷ user61: she followed him before and he followed her back during all star weekend. she also follows both his brothers now tho , and they follow her back 🤷‍♀️

[freeabortionslol]

sick day (luke hughes x gf!reader) ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

summary: fluff! reader takes care of luke when he's sick warnings: none! a/n: short lil blurb while I'm writing a longer story. this is straight up just pure fluff. love u all! happy reading! wc: 1.3k

You were standing in the kitchen scrolling through tik tok after a long everything shower, chugging every last sip of water from your stanley cup. Your boyfriend, Luke, was lying on the couch of your shared apartment doing the same thing. You glanced over as his back rested against the arm of the couch. He was wearing a cream colored hoodie, with the hood over his brown coils. You smiled as he sniffled his nose and decided to walk over. You made your way onto the couch where Luke lifted his legs so he could place them on your lap.

“Everything okay, baby?” You asked, your voice gentle as you rubbed your thumb against his knee. 

Luke sniffled, placing his phone down on his lap. “I don’t feel good.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, sending him a half smile. “What’s wrong?”

He sighed, rubbing his hands against his face before speaking. “My ears hurt, my throat hurts, and I'm all stuffy.” He sniffled his nose to demonstrate. You moved in closer, placing the back of your hand on his forehead to check his temperature.

“You do feel a bit warm. I’m gonna go get the thermometer.” Luke nodded, his face softening at your concern. He leaned back against the couch cushions as you got up to grab the thermometer from the bathroom cabinet. When you returned, he had cocooned himself in the throw blanket, just his messy curls and tired eyes peeking out. You kneeled beside him and pressed the thermometer under his tongue, brushing a stray curl from his forehead as he looked up at you with those puppy dog eyes. Once it beeped, you pulled it out and frowned at the number. 

“101.5” you murmured. “Poor baby, no wonder you feel lousy.”

Luke groaned, sinking deeper into the blanket. “I hate being sick.”

“I know, Lu,” you said softly, kissing the top of his head. “But you have me, and I’m the best nurse ever. You want ramen?” He managed a weak smile as he nodded his head. “Okay, go get in bed. I’ll start boiling the water.” Luke slowly stood from the couch, his posture slumping as he made his way to the bedroom. You walked to the kitchen and pulled out a pot to fill with water. When you turned on the stove, you decided to go to the bedroom to stay with your sick boyfriend while the water boiled. You pushed the door open and caught sight of Luke slouching against the headboard with the tv remote in his hand. He looked up as you entered, his tired eyes lighting up just a bit at the sight of you. His hoodie was still pulled over his head, but the blanket was draped messily over his lap.

“What are we watching?” He croaked out.

You sent him a soft smile, moving closer to your side of the bed. “Whatever you want, baby.”

“New Girl.” He mumbled, pressing play as he already had it pulled up. Luke set the remote down and shifted over slightly, patting the space next to him. You climbed into bed, settling beside him and gently pulling the blanket over both of you. He leaned his head against your shoulder with a small sigh, and you wrapped an arm around him, rubbing soft circles on his back. “Sorry I’m gross right now,”

“You’re not gross,” you said firmly, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “You’re my favorite, even when you’re a sniffling mess.” 

That earned you a quiet laugh, his breath warm against your shoulder. “I love you.”

“Love you too, Lukey.” You said gently as you leaned your head on top of his.

Luke nuzzled his head further into your shoulder, planting a soft kiss on your neck. “You smell nice.” He murmured against your skin.

You giggled slightly, scratching his back softly with your freshly manicured nails. “It’s that new vanilla body wash.” 

Luke hummed contentedly, his lips brushing against your neck again as he mumbled, “Smells so good. I wanna steal it.”

You laughed softly, tilting your head to look down at him. “You already use half my stuff anyway. Might as well make it official.”

He chuckled, his voice still raspy but laced with affection. “What can I say? Your stuff is better than mine.”

“You just like smelling like me,” you teased, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his back.

“Guilty,” he murmured, his hand finding yours under the blanket and giving it a gentle squeeze. “You’re the best.”

“You’re just saying that because I’m making you ramen,” you joked, pressing a kiss to his temple.

“Maybe,” he replied with a lopsided grin. “But I’d mean it even if you weren’t.” Your heart melted a little at his words, and you smiled, leaning into him. The sound of New Girl filled the room, but neither of you were really paying attention. The comfort of being close to each other was all that mattered. 

After a few minutes, the faint sound of the pot boiling over caught your attention. “Oops, ramen time,” you said, starting to get up.

Luke whined in protest, reaching out to tug you back toward him. “Stay.”

“I’ll be quick, promise,” you said with a laugh, kissing his forehead before slipping out of bed. “You’ll have your ramen before you know it.” You walked to the kitchen, pouring the boiled water into the bowl with the noodles. You grabbed a gatorade from the fridge for Luke before walking back to the bedroom with his meal. Luke had shifted to sit up more, tiredness evident in his eyes as he crossed his arms. 

“Thank you angel.” He let out, his voice still raspy as you walked closer. You pouted at him slightly, handing him the bowl before climbing into bed next to him. 

“You’re welcome, baby.” you said softly, watching as Luke took the bowl carefully, the steam rising up to his face. He let out a small sigh of contentment, the warmth already making him feel a little better. 

“You even brought me a Gatorade?” he asked, his lips curving into the faintest smile as he glanced at the bottle in your hand.

“Of course,” you replied, twisting off the cap and handing it to him. “Gotta keep you hydrated.” Luke took a sip of the drink before setting it on the nightstand, then carefully scooped up a bite of the noodles. He winced slightly as they were still a bit too hot, blowing on them before trying again. 

“Mmm,” he hummed, his face lighting up as he swallowed. “Perfect, as always.” 

You chuckled, leaning against the headboard beside him. “It’s just ramen, Lu.”

“Yeah, but it’s your ramen,” he said, looking at you with those soft, tired eyes. “Makes it taste better.” 

You rolled your eyes playfully, but your cheeks flushed. “You’re such a suck-up.” 

“Only for you,” he teased, taking another bite. The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a while, Luke occasionally offering you a bite of the noodles, which you accepted with a smile. When he finally finished, he set the empty bowl on the nightstand and shifted to snuggle into your side again. 

“Feel a little better now?” you asked, running your fingers through his curls.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, his voice softer now. “I’ve got my girl, my ramen, and New Girl. What more could I need?” 

You smiled, kissing the top of his head. “Glad I could help.”

Luke tightened his arm around your waist, letting out a content sigh as his eyelids grew heavier. “Love you,” he murmured sleepily.

“Love you too, Lukey,” you whispered, holding him close as his breathing slowed, and the sound of the tv played quietly in the background. You didn’t care if Luke got you sick, you just wanted to make him comfortable.

[tinfoil-jones]

Has Stan ever questioned Jerk Ford the reason why he is the only person he isn't a jerk to, since he's an a-hole even to the other members in their family?

"You don't know him like I do."

- Both Stans at the same time.

On Jerk Ford:

Throughout their lives, Stan insisted that just because Ford’s a jerk, it doesn’t mean he doesn’t care about anyone. He does care! Really! He just has a hard time showing it. No one ever believed him. You could just say that it’s a twin thing when Stan says something along the lines of “You don’t know him like I do” and they’re like well no shit he’s not a jerk to you. But, give Stanley some credit here, he’s more observant than you think he is.

---

Retired tech billionaire "Old Man" Fiddleford Hadron McGucket starts his mornings as he often does; going into his garage/workshop with a cup of coffee so he could re-tune his banjo for a few songs, quietly so as not to wake his wife.

He almost drops his cup of coffee when he see's theres something on his workbench that wasn't there last night.

A multitool.

One he hasn't seen in thirty years, but recognized instantly.

Carefully, he picks it and and inspects it, maybe it's just a replica.

FHM

Engraved in his late fathers handwriting, a loose scrawl that almost looked cursive if it weren't for the letters not being attached.

It's the same multitool. It's in pristine condition.

---

When they were just little boys, they were hiding behind the counter as their Pa was arguing with a customer, who ended up calling Filbrick a word they never heard before. Filbrick kicked the customer out, but it was clear he was more upset than he let off, in fact, he seemed almost sad, something neither twin had ever seen from their Pa. Filbrick then gave them a lecture that they can never repeat the word they just heard the man call him, because it was a very bad word that people used to insult and put down people 'of their faith'. 

A few minutes later, that same customer slipped on a banana peel that ‘came out of nowhere’, and sprained his ankle.

When they were a little older, Caryn was taking the twins out for a walk, when they passed a construction site and the construction workers started whistling at her, and giving her ‘compliments’ that she didn’t seem to like. She ignored it, but her little sons noticed her pace sped up and she almost rushed them away. 

That night, as those workers were double checking the work they’d done for the day, they were baffled to find that the concrete hadn’t set; the concrete had been tampered with, as if someone had poured a bunch of sugar in it while it was mixing. They’d have to redo it all over again, and it’d cost the company extra for the wasted concrete.

When the twins were in high school, Shermie, who had long since moved out but was visiting, was in tears telling their parents that his boss refused to give him the day off on the day his wife was due to give birth to their baby.

A week before the baby was born, his workplace was suddenly so badly infested with termites and roaches, that it would need two weeks to be properly fumigated, so the workers didn’t have to work while the fumigation was going on, and they’d still get paid because they were salary workers. Shermie was there with his wife when she gave birth to their son, and he got to dedicate a few days to just being with his wife and baby.

Their Ma would help out with Shermie's son sometimes, because both parents worked, but she also worked and would have her two younger sons help out with babysitting as well. And although Ford would gripe and complain about 'dealing with a brat all day', Stan had seen more than once that Ford would put the baby to sleep more than once by simply holding him in his arms and lying down with him, and also falling asleep.

In Backupsmore, Fiddleford was being bullied by a professor who looked down on him for being ‘a hick from an inbred, uneducated family’, and he was told to suck it up when he tried reporting her because she was tenured. In the middle of the year, she was unexpectedly replaced by a new, and much nicer, professor, and they were told their original professor was taking ‘an extended leave of absence’. 

She never came back, and it later came to light later on that the dean found a box full of documents and VHS tapes under his desk that hadn’t been there when he left his office the night before. All of which were extensive proof that the professor had been secretly embezzling the schools budget. 

When Ford comes back to their dimension after thirty years in the multiverse, no one who knew him from before is surprised that he’s still a huge indiscriminate jerk, and people who hadn’t personally known him but knew about him because of their yearly holiday that celebrated his disappearance were unpleasantly surprised to find out he was as bad as everyone said he was. And Stan didn’t necessarily disagree, but even after decades apart he could still see right through his twin as if he were made of rude glass.

Dipper's pens are suddenly indestructible to his chewing habit so no more mouthfuls of ink, and Mabel mysteriously never runs out of glitter; lately, it's also been more shimmery and almost... magical?

It doesn't matter where either of them fall asleep, they always end up waking up tucked into their beds, even though they told Grunkle Stan in the beginning of summer that they were too old to be carried and to just leave them wherever they’d crashed. 

Soos had been complaining all summer about his van making weird noises and having really poor mileage. Out of nowhere, Soos’s vehicle starts running like a dream and he’s getting ninety miles to a gallon, when it’s been twenty to the gallon at most as long as he’s had it.

Also, he didn't remember when he'd upgraded the graphics card of his home computer, but he sure is loving the higher FPS when he's playing video games.

Wendy is beside herself distressed and crying to Stan, Soos, and the Mystery Twins that her house had roof leak when a surprise summer rainstorm hit, and her favourite framed photograph of herself with her late mother was water damaged beyond repair, and is nearly unrecognizable.

The next day she asks her father when he’d made a copy of her photograph, and he replies that he has no idea what she’s talking about. She then takes a closer look at the newly framed picture she'd found on her desk that had been placed right next to her damaged one- did someone paint this…?

People assume that Ford only cares about his twin brother and no one else, because he's the only person he's never been a jerk to. But Stanley knows that isn't true; Ford loves just as strongly as he does, he just has a hard time letting people know.

As for Ford not being a jerk to him? Why would Ford bother, when Stan can see right through him? His twin is the only person who can see him, really see him.

---

Hours after Fiddleford had stormed out of the cabin with his bags in tow, Stanley looks over disheartened when he see's Stanford calmly place the multitool onto his own workbench.

"There were other ways to make him leave, Ford."

"I needed to make sure he wouldn't come back. That was too close of a call."

Ford had intended to give it back when the project was over, too bad it was on his belt when he was pushed into the multiverse.

[hon3y-y]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ pov: hockeyplayer!suguru is your loving boyfriend<3

Inclusive to all fem readers<3 (no deep description of body type or skin color)

Enjoy<3

Hockeyplayer!bf! Suguru who’s hair flows behind him while he skates on the ice, flashing you a bright smile as he skates past you to score. He immediately blows a kiss to you and goes to celebrate with his team. He’ll go skating to the benches and practically throws himself over, “you see me babe?” He calls up to you. You nod, blushing as his coach tells him to sit down and grumbles “keep your head in the game, suguru. We haven’t won yet…” he’ll blow a kiss to you before sitting down, pushing away his teasing teammates.

Hockeyplayer!bf! Suguru who tells the opposing player standing next to him during the face-off, “by the way, I’m scoring off of this..” the guy looks confused and scoffs at your boyfriends cockiness, but ends up shocked when he does. Before he can fully process how fast suguru scored, he sees getou rush to where you are in the stands, calling out to his lucky charm.

I mean, he’s in front of his favorite person in the world? When is a better time to show off…

He’ll beg you to come to practices, showing you his smooth tricks and waiting for your approval every time. He absolutely loves praise and hearing you cheer for him, even during an empty practice? It scratches his brain in a way that pushes him to try harder, move faster, and win. He just loves to make you proud.

Hockeyplayer!bf! Suguru who’s own team is freaking out when you said you might not be able to make the game. He’s sulking, and his teammates are all trying to make him feel better.

‘She’ll come, don’t worry!’

‘She’s probably on her way right now.’

‘Just breathe, bro…’ which only makes him grumpier

After confirming you won't be able to make it, he’s out of it the first two periods, allowing the team they’re against to get ahead three points. During intermission you call him, saying you heard they were behind and you’d be able to be there the last period. Somehow he miraculously is back on his game and they end up only losing by one point. You apologized for missing the first half to which he shushes you, “my lucky charm made us lose with dignity, baby. I’m just happy you’re here.” He says while wrapping you in his arms, smiling like he won the Stanley cup.

When he goes home with you for the holiday, he plays hockey with your cousins and lets them win(cause he’s so sweet T-T. Probably dramatically throws himself onto the floor when they score making them giggle every time. Anyway..) That is until your nosey and annoying next door neighbor starts making comments on his plays. He rolls his eyes, leaning on his stick while focusing on the way the neighbor leans into you or comments on how pretty you look and suddenly there’s a puck flying, nearly hitting the annoying man. He goes to where you two are wrapping a protective arm around you, he’s acting shocked too. The neighbors eyes wide in shock sputtering nonsense as you try not to laugh, “shit man, usually I don’t miss.”

Hockeyplayer!bf! Suguru who runs out of the changing rooms as soon as he’s done and goes to meet you. His eyes sparkling, grin wide on his face as he moves his hockey gear to give you a bear hug. “How’d i do?” His voice is mumbled into your neck, tightening his arms and breathing in your comforting scent. You laugh at the ticklish feeling before facing him, “so good my love, couldn’t take my eyes off you~” making him blush.

Suguru is always worked up after a game, pulling you out to his car with a smirk on his lips. He’s staring down your shirt and smacks your ass when you pass him holding the door for you, “suguru! We’re in public—“ to which he just laughs and begins to tease you, “i thought you liked being watched? Didn’t have a problem when i made you cum on my fingers in front of satoru last week?” To which you gasp and immediately reach up to cover his filthy mouth. “I didn’t know he came in!” Your cheeks are flushed pink and you mumble a tiny ‘hmph’ before going to the passenger seat of the car.

You're confused when he doesn’t open it, turning to look at him and noticing his crossed arms. “That’s my job, princess.” And just like that, your putty for him again. You giggle and turn away as he strolls over only for you to stop him. “Open the back, gonna need it more…” you lean up to his ear and whisper making him bite his lip. “Anything for you, baby.”

NSFW below;

Hockeyplayer!bf! Suguru who currently has you in his lap in the backseat of his car, his hands grabbing and caressing anything he can. He plays with your tits through your shirt, nipping at your lip and rolling his hips up to grind his aching cock into your covered pussy. “Mmh—take this off, please..” he’s pawing at your shirt, helping you remove the item before immediately pulling your bra down to stare at your pretty tits. He tugs and plays with your nipples, chuckling when you push his hands lower “guru, play with this instead~”

Clothes are thrown around the car, both of you guys impatiently wanting to feel each other. You climb on top of him again, feeling your mouth salivate at the sight of how large he is (never failing to impress you)

The feeling of his tip pushing into you makes you let out a sharp cry, the stretch painful without the prep but your dripping pussy helps glide him inside. Suguru reaches up to caress your soft cheek, kissing your watering eyes while whispering words of encouragement. “I know baby,” he leans his head against the headrest, trying not to cum just by the feeling of his head popping through your tiny, wet hole. “Slow baby, you can take it~” his hands rest on your hips, moving to play with your clit and try to help you adjust.

When you finally sink down onto him fully, he holds you still, closing his eyes and trying to not succumb to cumming right there. Your face is twisted up as his cock nestles against every nerve you have, panting at just how full he makes you. “Su-guru, ‘ure so big—nghh!” You moan when he rolls his hips up.

With your hands using his shoulders as leverage, you begin to ride him. Suguru is noisy, he doesn’t mind showing his lover how good he feels. And as he leans into your ear, telling you how good you’re doing, you can’t be more grateful it’s you he’s talking to

“Good job baby—oh fuck!—riding me so g-good.” He moves his hands to your ass, spanking it and watching the jiggle it makes before grabbing it for leverage. He’s also a little impatient so it’s not long until he fucks up into your pussy, making eye contact with you so he can watch the way you lose yourself in the pleasure. His cock hit your g-spot harshly, you clench tightly around him with your eyes rolling back. You moaned uncontrollably, any attempt to shush yourself stopped by suguru. “Move ur’ fucking—hands.”

Your tears egged him on, enjoying your choked sobs that echoed in the confined space. The car had fog on the windows, shaking lightly and if anyone of his teammates saw, it would be nearly impossible to argue what the two of you are doing.

He slows down, changing his rough pace to slow loving thrusts. He pulls you to him, kissing you passionately and enjoying the intimate moment while reaching down to thumb your clit. You gasp into the kiss, brows furrowing at the double stimulation. “Don’t s-stop!” You beg, messily kissing him letting out shakey breaths. Suguru playfully smiles while nodding, “i won’t baby, promise…”

He adjusts the two of you, laying you down and lifting your legs to your chest before pushing back into you. He groans, and grabs your jaw. “Open.” You do as you’re told and feel suguru spit into your mouth, picking up his pace after watching you swallow it without instruction. “Good—fuckin—girl.” He emphasized with every thrust, nearly hypnotized by how pretty you look.

You tighten around him when he leans down to suck on your harden nipple, bucking your hips to meet him halfway. You’re being fucked dumb, eyes rolling whenever he fucks you full, feeling yourself getting closer to the edge with every drag of his cock. Your voice pitches, “Gon-na cum!”

Suguru wraps his hand around your throat, “yeah? Not even asking? What a brat.” He scoffs. You try and speak, wanting to beg and be his good girl but you can’t. You can feel it building, unable to have any control. His eyes darken, “really? Still not gonna ask?” And you start crying. Your brain is fried, the need to please losing to your own selfish desire to cum.

“S-sor-ry!” You yelp as it snaps. you cum hard, your eyes squeezed tight as your back arches up and your whole body tightening. You're shaking, throwing your arms over your eyes as you curl into yourself as intense wave after wave courses through you. With ringing ears, you don’t know when you finally regain senses but the first thing you feel is Suguru's rough hands caressing your cheek.

Suguru has pulled out of you, “holy shit, looked so hot babe.” You laugh at the surprised look on his face. You look down and notice the wet spot on his seat and try to sit up, embarrassed. “Woah, take a second to breathe, mama.” He jokes while pushing you back down.

“Guru, I’m sorry. Ill clean—“ he cuts you off with an annoyed groan, playfully smacking your pussy making you gasp. “You should only apologize because I didn't get it on camera.” You look up at him and smirk, “you didn’t cum yet, think you can make me do it again?”

Hockeyplayer!bf! Suguru who does make you cream on his cock again but this time on video. The same video that, with your permission of course, he shows to his teammate satoru with an open invitation to join in on that nights after party

Hockeyplayer!bf! Suguru is just the best<3333

A/n: it’s finally done🙏 i have finals coming up so idk when imma write again💔

[juuuulez]

old man richie who doesn’t quite get all the things his young girlfriend does.

like diy eyelash clusters? he walks into the bathroom one day and you’re holding an eyelid open, little black lashes pinched between tweezers as you meticulously place them on your lash line. the sight makes him grimace, keeping his distance and standing near the wall.

“the fuck you doin’?” richie asks, “isn’t a professional ‘sposed to do that?”

you glance at him through the mirror while picking up another cluster. “well, yeah. but this is cheaper and quicker, tons of women do it themselves now.”

richie makes a noise of acknowledgment, coming closer to peer at the supplies you’ve got laid out across the counter. his gaze flickers back up to you, watching the glue get applied to the bulb, before you’re holding your eye open again.

“does it hurt?” he asks.

you try not to grin, not wanting to mess this up. “why would it hurt?”

“i don’t fuckin’ know, that’s why i asked.” richie would grouse, already backing off because seeing your eyes like that is kinda creepy.

he wouldn’t understand stanley cups either.

like, they’re so expensive! and it’s a cup, sweetheart, we’ve got plenty in the house.

richie shows his adamant disapproval when one shows up a week later, going on about how a plastic drink bottle would do the same job, and you’d still have all your money. “straight up robbery,” is what he calls it.

but after sex? take your eyes off him and he’s drinking out of your goddamn stanley. you’ll scold him and whine, because “richie! you’re drinking all my freaking water!” but he adamantly insists that your water tastes better than the water on his bedside.

which, it does, of course, in all it’s crisp cold glory.

[matthewtkachuk]

last night (blame it on the vodka)

They say drunk words are sober thoughts, so what are drunken confessions of love?

pairing: matthew tkachuk x reader

warnings: a pinch of angst, swearing, alcohol (and its after effects - aka a fat hangover and a twinge of regret)

word count: 3k

a/n: matthew tkachuk is a stanley cup champion!!!! you know i had to do it to ya. ps this idea was formed a million years ago (pre trade) therefore I have simply plucked Cowboys from downtown Calgary to downtown Miami deal with it. big ups to @wyattjohnston for the edit and for outsourcing my geography queries. title and inspo from the song by the same name by lucy spraggan. enjoy my loves and let me know what you think <3

You’re never drinking again. 

It’s a mantra you repeat all morning, from the minute you’re dragged back into consciousness by the sound of construction down on the street, to when you finally pull from bed to dramatically slam the window shut, to the one-two-three-four times you end up with your knees on the bathroom mat and your head in the toilet. 

You’re far too old to be drinking like that on a nearly empty stomach, far too old to be drinking like that regardless. Okay, maybe that’s a tad dramatic, being a mostly single twenty something year old in downtown Miami. Mostly single in that every time you drank, your painfully unrequited crush on probably the one guy in all of Florida you couldn’t pull came out with a vengeance. 

Looking at your phone and all the unread texts you groan, realizing that the little girl who used to write ‘Mrs. Matty Tkachuk’ in all of her diaries came out in full force last night. 

Hyping yourself up, you type out and forward the message ‘What the hell did I do last night?’ to everyone you remember being out with you. Everyone, that is, except Matty himself. 

Brielle: Last night you told him you loved him 

It’s not atypical for you to be out on a Friday night, a group of your closest girlfriends at your side. Neither is it uncommon for the night to begin with the three of you taking thirst traps for the ‘gram before taking shots as the Uber pulls up. 

Cowboys is a favorite place, certainly not for the high class atmosphere or clientele—of which you’ll find neither. But who doesn’t love to let loose in an environment where the city boys of Miami don Stetsons and large belt buckles? And okay, maybe you’re a bit of a gambler—though, with money or love as the currency depends on the night. 

Tonight you’re pressing your luck, drinking enough to dull the edge and to keep you from overreacting to Matt’s response to the aforementioned Insta story. It’s a simple message, a string of fire emojis, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t refresh the app until his username appeared as ‘Seen’ under the story. 

You don’t want to think it means anything when he shows up with a couple of his boys an hour into dancing with the girls. Cowboys is a popular place, evidenced by the crowded dance floor and the complete lack of personal space. So what Brielle was wearing a cowboy hat in one of the pictures and so what everyone and their mother knew this bar was your favorite place to spend Friday nights and so what you’d even tagged the place in a boomerang of your shot glasses five minutes after arriving. 

It didn’t mean anything—doesn’t mean anything. 

That thought doesn’t stop you from abandoning your friends the second you see the all too familiar head of curls.

“Hi Matty,” you greet, stumbling into him and sliding your hand around his waist. He feels solid beneath your fingertips, warm and secure and everything you’ve ever wanted. His resulting grin could build and topple empires, you think. 

But then reality all comes crashing down again as he slides his arm around your shoulders in turn, squeezing gently as he replies, “Hey, Kid.”

It’s the gentle reminder you’ll never be anything more than the annoying girl next door who used to follow him and Brady around like they were the greatest thing in the world. 

If he notices the way you deflate, he doesn’t say a word, though his hand rubs comfortingly at your shoulder for a moment until you can’t stand it anymore and go back to your friends and their sympathetic faces. 

The thing about you when you drink is the filter comes off. Normally you play your cards close to your chest, making it very hard for others to know your emotions. But a little vodka and you’re suddenly ready to face your feelings head on. 

It starts off innocently enough, an over exaggerated ‘I love you!’ when he brings you a drink without you having to ask. But then Georgia is all but holding you down to prevent you from running after him and professing your love. She doesn’t succeed, what with you running into his arms midway through the night anyway. 

He has that same grin on his face as you tell him how much you love him, and though he doesn’t mean it the way you do, he tells you that he loves you too just the same. 

Though you haven’t eaten in at least twelve hours, the thought of food makes your already upset stomach turn some more, and so you settle for making a cup of tea to get some fluids back in you. 

Not quite ready to face the music in terms of what your alcohol fueled self did last night, you ignore the unread messages to flip through some Insta stories. There’s cute pics and videos of you and your girls, you screen shot your favorites and tap away until you pause on a boomerang of Georgia and Brielle. It’s cute enough if you ignore the small stain by Bri’s collar where she’d lost some of the second tequila shot. Oh, and you looking up at Matthew with the most pathetic lovesick look on your face in the background. 

It unsettles your stomach further, and so you abandon all plans of tea—turning off your kettle and grabbing the water bottle you’d prepped for yourself before you left last night and taking up residence on the couch. 

Putting on a random movie from your childhood on Disney+, you lay back and cover yourself with your favorite quilt. Another wave of nausea washes over you, and so you prop yourself up with a few extra pillows and fall asleep sitting up. 

It mustn��t be more than half an hour of uninterrupted sleep before you’re pulled out of it by the incessant buzzing of your phone. It’s a set of four pictures of you on Matt’s lap and another incriminating tidbit from the night before. 

Georgia: Last night you told him you need him

“Shut up Sammy,” you glare, angrily poking his chest with your index finger. You’re grateful for the uncharacteristic change in nail shape at your last manicure, the stiletto tip serving as a makeshift weapon that actually makes him wince before laughing in your face. 

Truthfully, you’re not sure how the night got to this point—you and your girls hanging around a table with Matty and his boys. You’re not complaining though, not with how your bare legs pressed to Matty’s jeans or how his arm rests above your shoulders, fingertips brushing your skin now and then. 

Matt can spot a fight coming from a mile away, well versed in the language that is your rage from the countless years he was the source of it, pulling on your pigtails and breaking your barbies. 

“That’s not my name,” Sam rolls his eyes, rubbing his chest and stealing a swig of your beer. “Lightweight.”

He’s referring to your drunken state and the fact that Matt himself had to drag you to the table with the promise of a Bud Light if, and only if, you drank an entire glass of water. Narrowing your eyes, you begin to lunge at him again, stopped only by the force of Matt pulling you onto his lap and wrapping an arm around your waist, one hand resting on your stomach and the other on your bare knee. 

The effects of being wrapped up in him are almost instantaneous. Your rage quickly simmers, your body relaxes and you all but sink into the embrace. You quiet then, content to let the rest of the table do the talking for the moment while you memorize the feel of his arms. 

It’s a nervous habit to fiddle with the small charm around your neck, something you do unconsciously, not even noticing until it’s somehow come undone in your grasp. 

“Matty, I need you,” you whisper against the side of his face, watching his eyes darken and the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. He opens his mouth to speak but you interrupt with your fist coming at his face with your necklace clenched tightly within. 

He visibly relaxes, motioning for you to lean forward and swiping your hair to the side.You grab the strands of your hair after he takes the necklace from you, shivering as his cold hands drag across your skin. 

Georgia is shaking her head at you from across the table, having clearly read your lips and witnessed the little moment. You just smile and shrug at her before pressing a chaste kiss to the skin of Matt’s jaw. “Thank you.”

You’re pretty sure you’re dying. By the grace of some higher power, you haven’t seen the inside of your bathroom in a hot minute. Yes, you’ve finally moved past stage one of your hangover, however you’re not out of the woods yet. You’re dying a slow death on the couch—feeling yourself dip more and more into dangerous dehydration levels despite the giant water bottle on your coffee table that had been a gag gift from Matt last Christmas. 

Truthfully, the room is still a little spinny and your stomach still a little unsettled, but perhaps the worst of it all is the splitting headache and the sore throat. Both ailments make sense, you’re a yeller when you drink and you’re certain last night was no exception—even if the memories are slow to return to you. 

It’s not aggression, not really. It’s more that your body can’t contain all the emotions that you so carefully hide in your day to day life, and without the control that sobriety brings, you’re wont to let them all spill out. 

And really, you can’t linger on the what ifs too long, so you settle back in for another nap as an attempt to sleep off the symptoms of your poorly thought out night out with another movie playing as background noise. 

Elizabeth has just rejected Darcy when your phone lights up three times. 

sam: let’s just say you’re screwed if you ever wake up in vegas

you: fuck off sammy

sam: still not my name, lightweight 

sam: at least I didn’t propose last night 

“You know, Sammy,” you slur, no longer angry but keeping up the nickname in hopes that the table will think you are and Matty will let you stay in his arms. “You’re very lucky Liz agreed to marry you because other than the hockey thing you really have no redeeming qualities.”

“At least someone wanted to marry me,” he retorts not unkindly. 

“Matty would marry me,” you state confidently, tilting your head back to look up at the man beneath you. “Wouldn’t you, Matty?”

“Gonna have to get down on one knee, Kid,” Matty laughs, shaking your body slightly from where it leans against him. The dopiest smile crosses your face at the sound and you know you’re being far too obvious but you can’t help it. Matty laughing is your favorite sound, and happiness looks so good on him. There’s nothing you hate more than seeing him sad or upset. Nothing except dirty, sticky bar floors, which makes your next actions even more comical. 

Pulling from his arms for the first time in what feels like an eternity—not that you were complaining—you jump from the table and dramatically flop down to one knee. 

“Matthew—M-Matty,” you hiccup, keenly aware of the dozens of eyes on you and yet utterly uncaring of any of them except the icy blue you stare into now. “You’re my b-best friend. Marry me?”

The look he gives you is fond if frigid, not at all the passionate love declaration you were hoping for. Pouting deeply, you don’t move to pull up from the floor. “Is that a no?”

“It’s a ‘not right now’,” he answers, getting up himself and pulling you up by your armpits. You wrap around him like a vine, not even protesting as he leads you to the bar to grab another glass of water and some appetizers for the table. 

God, you really regret asking about last night. Maybe it was better to live in beautiful, blissful ignorance — if you never remembered all the embarrassing behavior did it really happen? 

Unfortunately your vibrating phone simply refuses to let that happen. 

brielle: and you totally ate shit on the pavement leaving the bar last night 

That certainly explains the dull ache of your biceps, having caught the weight of you alongside breaking your fall. Luckily that appears to be the extent of the damage, given you can wiggle all of your fingers and toes and no other part of your body stings. 

Just your ego is bruised. 

“Why would we go home?” you ask, gesturing wildly at the emptying bar around you as though it were still the hopping venue of an hour ago. 

“Cause the bar staff would like to go home too,” Brielle explains kindly. 

“So we go to the next bar? I’m sure there’s somewhere still open, it’s only midnight!” 

Matty’s arm is heavy and warm and secure as it wraps around your shoulder to guide you to the exit. “I’ve already called us an Uber.”

You preen at the mention of an ‘us’ between you and Matt, suddenly docile and calm, allowing him to guide you outside. 

Far too preoccupied with the weight of him, you miss the broken piece of sidewalk and subsequently toe pick the crack, ending up face down on the pavement. 

Matt is quick, pulling you to your feet with ease and examining your face and upper body for damage. “You alright?”

“If I say no, will you kiss it better?” you crack back, only half joking. 

Shaking his head at your antics, he guides you into the waiting car before sliding in beside you. 

You’re quite content to lean your head on his shoulder the whole drive home, arm curled around his before letting him lead you to your bed.

A joke about inviting him into your bed doesn’t leave your lips, momentarily mesmerized by the gentle way he tucks you in, the soft press of his lips to your forehead. 

Could it possibly get worse, you wonder. 

Matty: let me up?

He’s got a key for emergencies, and although you usually appreciate that he doesn’t misuse it, in this case you almost wish he would let himself in. 

It would give you some extra time to compose yourself and—to be quite honest—you do yet harbor a little fear that getting vertical might have you running for the bathroom once again. 

Neither of those things happen—he doesn’t let himself in and you don’t throw up on your way to the door. You make quick work of the lock before opening the door to reveal Matthew looking as well rested as you’ve ever seen him. 

The contrast between the two of you is likely a stark difference, but his face doesn’t give anything away if he’s thinking it too. 

His first words to you are simple, full of care and compassion. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got hit by a bus that then backed right over me again,” you answer truthfully. 

His responding giggle makes your insides feel warm and you can only hope you don’t have the tell tale lovesick look on your face. There’s a moment of quiet contemplation—his chest visibly puffs up and then deflates as he takes a steeling breath. 

“You said some things last night,” he says and you feel your blood run ice cold in your veins. 

You attempt to deflect. “I say a lot of things, Matty. Especially when I’ve gotten into the Tito’s.”

He shakes his head and takes a step towards you. “Last night you said you loved me.”

“Of course I love you, you’re my best friend.” It’s not a lie, not completely anyway. You love him. He’s your best friend. So what if that love you have for him is something a little bit more than friendship? 

He shakes his head again, little ringlets of curls shaking with the motion. “Didn’t sound friendly. You said you needed me.” His voice is rough, tone something heavy. 

“To fix my necklace, Matty. What are you doing?” Your voice in response is a little wild—short clipped sentences spoken in quick succession.  

He appears frustrated. Not necessarily at you, you don’t think, but it’s clear on his face.  “That’s not—You said you wanted to marry me, got down on one knee even. 

“I was drunk, it’s not that deep.” 

He takes the remaining steps toward you, crowding your space and boxing you in with his arms. Yet you know with one word he would back off if you asked. 

You don’t ask. 

“But what if it is? What if I said that I love you too, that I need you too? That the only person who I’ve ever thought about marrying was you?”

“Matty, what are you doing?” you ask lowly, heart pounding so loud you fear he might hear it. 

“Something I should have done a long time ago,” he murmurs and leans in until your lips barely touch. 

It's the invitation you feel you’ve waited a lifetime for. No amount of doubt or hesitation or uncertainty is going to stop you from wrapping yourself around him and deepening the kiss. 

It’s soft and sweet—two decades of buildup, of a beautiful friendship turned something more. It’s you and Matty the way it was always supposed to be—the way it was always going to end up. 

[hockeyboistrash]

so @captain-huggy-bear isn't feeling well at the moment and I wanted to write a little blurb for them. I hope you get better soon 💖 Quinn falling for his teammates best friend.

Quinn Hughes wasn't supposed to fall for anyone, let alone his teammates best friend. He told himself at the start of the season his focus was on getting his team to the Stanley Cup playoffs and he couldn’t do that with distractions. What he didn’t plan on was his new teammate having a cute friend. 

You and Kiefer became fast friends when he came to Vancouver from Nashville, living in the same apartment building. He was new to the city and you knew exactly how that felt, having been in the same position a few years ago. You showed him and his girlfriend around what was going to be their home, hopefully, for a while. 

When you first came out with the team everyone loved you, everyone but Quinn. You weren’t sure what you did to upset him but you weren’t going to let it ruin your night. You tried everything, talking to him, asking about his life. However, all you got in return were grunts or one word answers. After a while you gave up trying. 

Kiefer assured you that it was only because his captain was under a lot of pressure that he was cold towards you. You weren’t convinced though, smiles and laughter were always heard before you got to the table but always fizzled out when you sat down. He couldn’t even look you in the eye. 

It’s why you were surprised when you heard Quinn’s voice behind you, coming to your rescue. You only went to get a drink when some guy tried hitting on you. You weren’t interested in him though. The drunk stranger wouldn’t take no for an answer and you glanced over to your table hoping to spot Kiefer. Your eyes flitted across the crowd looking for anyone who could help. You felt your stomach drop when you realised that no one was paying attention. 

“You heard her. She said no.” Quinn told him. What you didn’t realise in your panicked state was that Quinn was paying attention to you. His eyes followed you the entire time since you left the table. They always did when you went out. 

You weren’t listening as Quinn and the drunk stranger had words, your mind all over the place. You were confused. You knew that he would never let anything happen to you. Quinn wasn’t that kind of guy. What confused you was how he knew you were in trouble. He never looks at you or pays you any attention, his drink often the sole focus. 

“Hey, you okay?” He asked, bringing you out of your spiralling thoughts. “Want me to get Kiefer?” 

“Why did you do that?” You blurted out. You wanted to say thank you and move on but your brain had a different idea.

“You needed help?” Quinn replied, confused by your question.

“You hate me though.” You said, your voice quiet but Quinn heard you. He always heard you. 

“No, no Y/N I don’t hate you.” He was quick to assure you. “It’s just- I’m realising now that I’ve been so stupid lately, giving you the cold shoulder. I’m so sorry I ever made you feel like I hated you. I don’t hate you Y/N. I could never hate you.” Quinn, cupped your cheek gently and you allowed him, melting into his touch. “I was so scared you would be a distraction and you are. Not a bad distraction but a good one and I realise that’s okay. You remind me to smile more and have fun. You keep me grounded.”

“Oh Quinn.” 

“I understand if I’ve ruined everything.” He said, ashamed of his actions.

“You’ve not ruined anything.” You assured him, pressing a soft kiss on his cheek.

[lovecla]

TEACH ME (HOW TO MAKE HIM COME) | jack hughes.

nhl masterlist, nsfw, @lovecla’s kinktober collection, chapter two:

<last chapter> <next chapter>

➴ chapter warnings: smut (f. fingering, dirty talk).

➴ word count: 3k

💌 from me to you: listen… if you already read any of my works you know that i don’t know how to write smut. i just wanted to write something for kinktober but turns out this is much harder for me than expected lmfao i hope u guys still like me and forgive me for all my sins.

𖧷

YOU TOOK a deep breath before knocking on Jack’s door.

It has now been a week since you asked Jack to be your “sex teacher”, and today would be your first “lesson”— if you could even call this a lesson.

Jack opened the door after a few minutes, smiling like he had just won the Stanley Cup, wearing a backwards hat, a plain, black t-shirt and pants.

Now that you’re really looking at him, Jack is fine. Like, really, really handsome. You get the Hughes brothers appeal now.

“Hey, pretty,” he greets you, nodding with his head and letting you in. “Right on time. Someone’s eager.”

You blush, dropping your things on his couch. “Well, what can I do?”

Jack closes the door behind him and leans against it.

“Are you excited?” He asks, looking genuinely interested in your answer.

“I don’t know if excited is the exact word,” you hum. “I’m really nervous. And anxious too. I barely slept tonight.”

He chuckles, walking towards you and stopping in front of you, putting a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“You don’t have to be nervous, baby. Sex isn’t a seven headed monster. It just has one head, maybe two if it’s a really good day.”

You give him a slap on the chest seconds after you get what he meant, hearing his loud laugh.

“You’re being mean.” You mumble, already embarrassed. “What… What are you teaching me today?”

He stops laughing and clicks his tongue.

“Today, you’ll learn how to get yourself off.”

You almost lose all of your senses.

“What? Me?” You yell, confused. “I thought— I thought this was about learning how to make a guy… Well. You know!”

“Before learning how to please others, you’ll have to learn how to please yourself,” he answers, looking dead serious. “I’m not gonna teach you how to make a guy come if I know you won’t be enjoying it.”

“Y-you don’t know that,” you stutter. “Zack probably knows how to get a girl off.”

Jack smirks, but doesn’t say anything. His cockiness made you want to punch him sometimes.

“When was the last time you touched yourself?” He asks the question staring deeply into your soul and you are one hundred percent sure that you won’t make it through this evening.

“Jack!” You shout again, looking everywhere but his face.

He sighs, and before you can even think about doing anything, he gently grabs your chin, forcing you to look at his sapphire eyes.

“Listen, pretty,” he starts, his voice soft and gentle. “Having sex is normal and so is touching yourself. If you’re not comfortable with me touching you, you just have to say it, but I really think that, for this to work, you’ll have to trust me.”

You stop looking at him, only to have his finger pressing your chin again. “It’s not that I don’t trust you. I do, I really do. It’s just that— this is weird to me. I want to have s-sex but what if… what if I’m terrible at it and what if I’m, I don’t know, boring?”

“That won’t happen, baby. And even if it does, who cares?” He licks his lips. “I’m here to help you. So just relax, okay?”

You bite your bottom lip before nodding once. Jack’s face lightens up and he smiles brightly at you.

“Good girl.”

𖧷

“THE KEY to knowing how to make yourself feel good, is exploring. Trying to get to know what you like and what you don’t like.”

You were sitting on Jack’s bed, your legs crossed and your hands resting on your lap. Jack was standing in front of you, looking you in the eye.

“Some girls like it when things are rough, when the touch hurts,” he explains, running his fingers down your neck, moving into your shoulder and arms, his touch making you shiver slightly. “Some girls like it when it’s gentle and slow. It’s up to you to find out what you like, mhm?”

You nod with your head, because speaking would just be too much trouble. Maybe you were too touch starved, because just the pressure of Jack’s fingers against your skin made you feel things you have never felt before.

He moved on to your mouth, tracing the line of your lips before parting them slightly with his thumb.

“Can I kiss you, baby?”

“K-kiss me?” You choke on your own saliva. “Why do you want to kiss me? That makes no sense and—” he stares at you with funny eyes. Right. “Okay. Trust you. Okay, fine.”

He grins but doesn’t say anything else and honestly, you’re thankful for it. His silence makes it a whole less awkward and embarrassing. Kissing your friend of years it’s already strange as it is.

Or at least that’s what you thought kissing Jack would feel like, before you felt his lips on yours. His right hand held your chin up, tilting your head just the slightest bit to the side so he could angle his mouth with yours just fine.

His tongue caressed yours with determination, Jack kissed like he knew what he wanted, and you guess he probably does. It wasn’t like any of the other boys you managed to kiss, no. Jack kissed with a purpose, and that purpose was driving you crazy.

He gently pushed your body back, making you lay completely on his bed, your back touching his soft covers. The weight of his body on top of yours definitely did something to you, even if you couldn’t explain what.

He pulls back after your lips are swollen, and even so, you catch yourself pushing further for more, frowning when he shakes his head no.

“I’m gonna touch you now, okay?” He asks, and you nod your head, eagerly, making him chuckle. “Words, baby.”

“Yes,” you breathe, feeling weird.

He blinks once before gluing his lips to yours again, this time not even asking for permission before touching your tongue with his, his hands moving immediately around your body. Touching your neck, shoulders and hips before moving back to your chest.

You were glad you had chosen not to wear a bra, since now Jack’s access to your boobs was easier. He put his hands inside of your tank top, squeezing your nipple between his index and thumb.

“Does it feel good?” He asks, and you think a million things at once, most of them synonyms for the word “good”. “Sarah?”

“Mhm,” you mumble, closing your eyes when he pulls your nipple and squeezes it, hard. “It does.”

“For you to feel good, you have to set the mood, y’know what I mean?” He sounds like a goddamn teacher and you want to kiss him again. “What’s the fun in getting off if you won’t play with the rest of your body?”

You feel your face burn, because that’s exactly what you thought getting off was: just laying in bed and touching yourself down there, and nothing else.

You jump slightly when you feel something wet around your left nipple, only after realizing it was his mouth. Is this a thing? Do guys do this all the time? And why does it feel so fucking good—

Your first moan comes off as a surprise to you and Jack; you can tell by the way he presses his fingers on your waist harder, the sound making you feel embarrassed for a second.

He moves onto the next, doing the same thing he just did to the other, and you remove his hat just to run your hands through his silky, now short hair.

His hand, the one that had been resting on your hips this entire time, goes to your right thigh, squeezing it hard. He lets go of you, and gets up, leaving you alone in his bed.

“Let’s get you naked, hm?”

Nodding, you get up to a sitting position, holding the hem of your shirt before his hand stops you. He holds your hand before moving you out of the bed, making you stand in front of him. His eyes are asking for permission again and once you give it to him, he starts by unbuttoning your jeans and helping you get out of them, leaving you with your lacy panties and your tank top.

And to your absolute horror, you only then realized that you were wet; your panties were glued to your pussy, and you could feel the sticky liquid coming out of you.

Jack doesn’t seem to notice, or if he does, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he moves on with his task of getting you naked, removing your white top and staring shamelessly at your tits.

“Stop looking at them,” you murmur, hiding your boobs with your hands.

He cocks his head to the side. “Why should I? They’re pretty, just like you.”

“It’s embarassing.” You reply, looking at your feet.

“No, it isn’t, baby,” he snickers, placing his hands on top of yours and removing them from your tits. Then, he pointed at the bed with his head, silently asking for you to lay there again, which you promptly did. You were anxious and excited for what was coming. Besides, it was getting hard to ignore the wetness between your legs.

You laid with your back on the mattress and your head on his pillow, watching as he did the same, laying sideways, with his hand supporting his head. Even if the only light illuminating the room is coming from his bedside lamps, you could tell that his blue eyes were dark, full of something that you couldn’t name, but that was starting to make sense to you.

Because you were sure that if you looked in the mirror, you’d see the same thing reflected in yours.

“You’re so pretty, baby,” he whispers, and you can’t help but whimper as you feel his fingers tracing imaginary drawings on your body; your neck, your shoulders, your chest, your tummy, your—

You hold your breath as he toys with the bow in front of panties, squeezing your thighs together as soon as he moves a little bit down.

“Sarah,” he calls beside you, and the only thing you can do is look at him and wait for him to continue. “Open your legs for me, baby.”

“N-no.”

He frowns, confused. “No?”

“‘M wet,” you whisper, feeling the reddeness take over your cheeks.

Jack chuckles, resuming playing with your underwear.

“That’s the goal, baby. It means that we’re doing great work.”

You’re doing great work, you want to tell him, but you choose to stay quiet, the situation already embarrassing enough as it is.

Slowly, you reopen your legs, separating your thighs until your left one touches Jack’s stomach. He hums as he removes your underwear, the cold breeze hitting your pussy and making you shiver.

His fingers slowly find their way back to your core, and when Jack touches your clit, you can finally release the moan you didn’t even know you had been holding this entire time. His finger’s cold, and as he gently rubs your sensitive nub, you start to wonder why it has never felt this good for you before.

Of course, you’ve felt aroused before, especially when you were a teenager. But never enough to actually do something about it— the few times you tried to make yourself come, you’d always stop midway and feel guilty for the next three hours, even if getting off wasn’t anything shameful.

But this? Feeling Jack’s breaths near your neck, his left hand holding your legs open while his right one spreads the slick coming out of you on your folds and clit, the rub that was once gentle, now stong and precise.

“You’re so wet, baby,” he murmurs, kissing you on the lips again. As he tongue fights for space inside your mouth, you can feel his index finger circling your clenching hole. “You can either put a finger inside or just rub here,” he explains, touching your clit again, making you remember why you were laying naked on his bed in the first place. Right, you tell yourself, we’re here for Zack, and for Zack only. “Just do what feels good for you.”

You can feel your walls tightening around his finger as he tries to put it inside you and you bite your lips, holding back a whimper.

“You need to relax, baby, otherwise this will hurt,” he says, soft voice reaching your ears like honey. “Do you want me to stop?”

You shake your head fast. “No, please,”

You can almost hear the smile in his voice when he mumbles a soft “okay”, as you try your hardest to relax. He dips his finger inside of you, while his thumb works fast on the aching button, the wet sound of his fingers on your pussy making you cringe momentarily.

It was different, having something inside you, but a good type of different. And knowing that Jack is the one making you feel this fucking good? Definitely helps a lot.

“I wanna hear you, baby, come on,” he asks, his lips touching your cheek with how close he is. “Make those pretty sounds for me again. Can you do that?”

“Mhm,” you let out a series of sounds, trying not to think so hard. If Jack wanted you to moan for him, you would. “Jack.”

“Does it feel good, pretty?” He smirks, moving his fingers faster, his grip on your tight strong enough to bruise your skin. “Does your little, tight pussy feel good around my fingers? Good enough to make you come for me?”

His dirty, crude words made the red on your face deepen, but at this point, with his finger shoved deep inside of you and his tireless rubbing on your swollen clit, you didn’t care much.

The only thing in your head was the need to release yourself in his hands.

“Answer me, or I’ll stop,” he orders and you roll your eyes, holding his neck with your arms, gluing your chest to his clothed body, his finger reaching deeper inside you with the new angle. “Sarah—”

“It d-does,” you stutter, breathing in his perfume. God, he smells so fucking good. “It feels so good, Jack, I don’t want you to stop, I—”

“Are you going to come, baby?”

“Dunno,” mumbling, you grab his hair, pulling it. “I want to.”

“Then come on, baby. I’ll talk you through it,” he whispers in your ear, biting your lobe right after.

“No,” you moan. “That’s… embarrassing.”

He chuckles, pressing his thumb against your clit, making you arch your back with how sensitive you were. “What’s so embarrassing about me talking you through? Telling you how good your pussy feels around my finger? How hot and wet you are, taking me so well and deep too.”

“Jack—”

“Have you wondered about how my dick’s going to feel inside you?” He licks your cheek before kissing it gently. “How deep I’ll be. How I’ll make you beg and cry for my cock, so I can wreck your pussy and have you moaning for me. And you’ll wet my sheets, just like you’re doing right now, won’t you, baby?”

“Yes, yes, yes,”

“And it’ll feel so good, right, pretty? You’ll let me hear those pretty sounds of yours while I teach you how to take a cock, hm?”

Still with your nose buried in his chest, your body moving forward with each of his thrusts, you shake your head. “No— teach me how to take y-your cock, Jack.”

Why the hell did you just say that, somewhere, someone, inside your mind asks you, what about Zack?

What about him?

Jack’s chuckle brings you back for a moment. “‘Course, pretty. Teach you how to take my cock.”

Satisfied, you hold him closer, closing your legs together, the tension inside of you growing with each thrust. You weren’t sure of what was going to happen, but it felt so fucking good.

“Jack— I’m gonna.”

His fingers only manage to go faster, reach deeper.

“Come for me, baby,”

Even if this is— officially— your first time coming, you still don’t understand how your body just responded to Jack so well, and how you literally came on command— something inside you made you think that this doesn’t happen often.

But there was just something about him teaching you how to make yourself this wet, how he left your pussy sore and clenching around nothing, how his blue eyes never left yours and how his blondish, damp hair is sticking to his forehead, making he look ten times hotter than he already normally does.

How haven’t we ever noticed he’s this fine?

“Hi,” you whisper, smiling tiredly and laying on his chest.

He smiles back. “Hi, pretty.”

“This was… definitely something.”

“How do you rate your class from zero to ten?” He joked and you laugh quietly.

“A ten,” you mumble. “An eleven if you let me stay the night.”

“I wasn’t going to let you leave anyway but if telling you yes will make my score go higher then yes, please, you can spend the night here,” he kisses your lips briefly, before pulling back, a somewhat worried expression decorating his beautiful, angelic face. “Does Z know where you are?”

“Told him I’d sleep at my friend’s house,” you say, not feeling even the slightest bit bad for lying to Trevor. I mean, you had just come on Jack Hughes’ fingers after he got you off and sucked your tits. Trevor can go to hell for all you care.

“Mhm,” Jack hums, getting up suddenly and taking you with him. “Let’s get you cleaned up and we’ll go to sleep.”

You wanted to protest but he was right, you both had to clean yourselves up. And showering with him didn’t sound so bad.

At all.

Phase two of getting Zack to like you: complete.

[auras-moonstone]

Could you write Ethan/Jack going with reader to a basketball/hockey game and getting on the kiss cam?? Hope ur doing well!! 💗

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ kiss you in a crowded room — ethan landry

ᡣ𐭩 word count: 990

ᡣ𐭩 pairing: hockey player!ethan landry x fem!reader

ᡣ𐭩 summary: ethan sees his best friend’s face on the kiss cam and, filled with jealousy, he rushes to stop it, leading them to confess their hidden feelings.

ᡣ𐭩 contents: fluff. hockey. kissing. public confession. jealousy. best friends to lovers. cheesiness.

y/n’s legs bounced nervously as she watched the team fighting to gain possession of the puck and failing miserably because the rivals managed to score once again, leaving them 2-1.

“fuck!” she cursed when the intermission started. “i’m going to throw up, i swear”

“calm down, they can still turn it around.” tara tried to be positive, despite being nervous for chad, her boyfriend.

“i just want eth to win this goddamn championship. doing it in his rookie year would be amazing.”

“an ethan fan? he’s great. he played a huge part on the team making it to the playoffs, so his rookie year will still be amazing no matter what.” the guy that sat beside her said.

y/n turned to face him, a proud smile on her face. “i’m his biggest fan actually.” she said, which was true. she was, always had and always will be her best friend’s number one fan. “and you’re right, his rookie year is one of the best. still want him to get the stanley cup tho.”

“you and me both. but your friend is right, we still have 30 minutes to turn it around.”

“keeping my fingers crossed.” she showed him her crossed fingers and he did the same.

“okay, i just gotta say it. do i know you? you seem really familiar but i can’t put my finger on it.”

y/n blushed under his scrutiny. “um, i’m y/n. ethan’s childhood best friend.”

“oh! that’s where i know you from. his instagram. my boyfriend is always stalking his social media, he’s got a big fat crush.” they both chuckled. “it’s nice to meet you.”

“you too!”

ethan, who was watching the scene from a couple of feet away, clenched his jaw. his urge to call security to ask them to not-so-gently scort the stranger—who was shamelessly flirting with his girl—outside was almost uncontrollable.

“you need to calm down.” chad said. “they’re just talking.”

“they’re laughing, chad. he’s making her laugh at my game.” ethan growled.

“okay. you’re actually growling, you’ve gone ins- oh dear god.” chad’s panicked voice made him unglue his eyes from the stands. his friend was looking up at something, and ethan raised his head to see what made him act that way.

there, on the screen of the arena, were the shocked faces of y/n and the stranger. the letters on top read ‘kiss cam’.

“um, how do we get out of this?” y/n asked.

he took a deep breath “we can just say no, right? it’s not like they’re going to force us.”

y/n nodded which ethan completely mistook it for her giving consent, and he just saw red. before chad could stop him, he skated towards the stans and hit the glass that separated the seats and the rink with force, startling his best friend and the guy, who were both sitting in the first row.

“um, hi?” y/n asked, confused by ethan’s pissed off face.

“don’t you fucking kiss him.” he said with a frown on his face and glaring at the guy, who quickly raised his hands and yelled “i have a boyfriend!” with a voice so terrified and high that y/n had to bite her lip to not laugh.

the hockey player’s demeanour changed from angry to embarassed “oh… i saw you talk… and you nodded- i thought—“

“—that i was going to kiss him in front of the whole arena.” she finished his sentence. “yeah, i got that. what’s got you so furious, though? you almost scared my new friend to death.”

“well, i- i wasn’t sure you’d be okay kissing a stranger.” he chuckled nervously.

“you thought i was consenting when i nodded, so try again. why were you so pissed, landry? no bullshit.” y/n crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“because i don’t want you kissing someone else.” he admitted, not daring to look her in the eye.

her face softened. “well, i don’t want to kiss anyone but you, so…” she confessed in return.

warmth spread through his cheeks and the nervousness faded when he met her smiling face. “please stand in that fucking chair so i can do what i’ve been wanting for a long long time.”

her body bent over the pixie glass and ethan didn’t have to rise his head too much to meet her lips. the crowd’s cheers were drown by the thundering of their own hearts. y/n’s hands were shaking as she caressed his cheeks once they had to pull apart because of the awkward position.

“now, rookie, you gotta turn this game around, okay?” she kissed his nose before climbing off the seat. “i have faith in you.”

“i’m not stopping until i lift that stanley cup.” he did the soldier motion with his hand, making her laugh. “to have the girl and the cup sounds like a dream, doesn’t it?”

“okay, lover boy, that was quite a half time show.” chad arrived to his side. he looked at the boy sitting next to y/n and frowned. “jesus, you look kinda pale.”

“for a moment i saw my life flashing before my eyes. i thought he was going to kill me.” he answered, stumbling over some words.

“eth? he’s only tough on the ice. outside? he’s a huge teddy bear.” y/n smiled lovingly at her now boyfriend.

the hockey player let out a dramatic gasp “shh, babe. my reputation!”

y/n rolled her eyes. “you’re a dork.”

“but i’m your dork.”

the girl gaged. “get out of my sight.” she waved with her hand, acting disgusted by his cheesiness.

“i love you, too.” he winked before skating away.

y/n sat down with a content smile on her face. she couldn’t believe that just actually happened. she’s spent years and years pining after him and thinking they would never be more than friends, and now ethan was there, after having confessed his feelings in front of a whole arena, dedicating his goals to her.