#quinn hughes drabble

[hugheshugs]

ririii i just had this idea if you someday want to elaborate that blurb about friends with benefits with huggy

it's just a scene with luke, jack and quinn and they're making fun of quinn bc they think you're still keeping him in friend zone and he's just laughing but inside he's full of himself and thinking something like if these walls could talk..... like the 5sos' song

fwb blurb

omg !! iwct is one of my fave 5sos songs for sure, i love this sm gabs !! and im sorry it took me so long to write this, its rlly simple but <3

"what are you guys giggling about?" quinn asked as he made his way into the living room.

his two brothers were sitting on the couch with the tv off, simply whispering to each other while giggling like little kids.

"nothi—"

"we were just talking about how you're absolutely head over heels for y/n and she doesn't even like you back," jack cut off his younger brother.

quinn scoffed. "that's kinda rude."

he took a seat beside them, looking over to see them smiling at each other. if only they knew.

"it's the truth," luke shrugged. "kinda sad, she's out of your league."

"out of my league?" he asked, eyes a bit wide.

"bro, she's a ten out of ten inside and out," jack pointed out, as they'd all been friends for a while now. "you're a solid seven. seven and a half on a good day."

he ran a tongue against his cheek, his mind flashing back to the feeling of his lips against the warmth of your neck. the way you came undone under him, within these walls.

"i guess you're right," he pretended to agree with a nod. "she is out of my league."

[ruinix]

ik this has been discussed on here before but i feel like quinn is for sure the type to never want you to use your own money. not only does he have notifications on for his bank account but also yours, just to make sure you’re not spending your own money.

Hi, lovely, I have written a blurb with a similar topic here, but yes, I will try 🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️ I'm afraid I have been very horny today, so...🫠

Swipe & Tap Away

18+. Thoughts turning whorish. Whore thoughts. Smut. Spoiling you and giving you a card. Unprotected Sex. Handjobs. Oral sex (f receiving).

Quinn would definitely spoil you.

He was aware of your own money and he was proud that you have your income, but he would rather you deposit them in your account or invest it. Whatever you wanted to do to grow it, but he didn't want you to spend it for things that he could easily pay for.

You were reluctant with receiving his gifts, but from months of being his girlfriend, he had made you used to him hovering over your shoulder when you were scrolling through a clothing website, gripping his credit card for you to use. Whenever he heard you ranting about a certain bag you wanted but had an obnoxious price, he would run to the other room, find the bag, purchase it for a next day delivery or pick up.

When you complained about building your credit, he immediately remedied that by opening a new account with your name that he would pay for. The catch? He just needed you to include his email so he could also receive the purchase notifications from your already existing cards.

Before you accepted the black card from Quinn, you challenged him, "What if I suddenly buy the most obnoxious looking stuff just for jokes?" . You were standing with your feet shoulder-width apart, your hands on your hips, frowning at him. "What if I waste your money?"

"Then waste it." He grinned, chuckling when you looked horrified. He grabbed your hands, holding the card against your palm. "I know you, my Love. I know the things you liked buying, whether it's food or clothes or—" he smirked, his eyes sparkling with mischief, "—the lingerie you seduced me with. Buy them. I trust you." He paused, marking the excitement in your eyes. "You won't waste my money when I loved seeing you happy, when I am reaping the benefits of you all dolled up and pretty."

You blushed so much that when he touched your cheek, he could feel the heat radiating from your skin.

"Even if you're just buying tissues or that silly trinkets that you've been raving about, please use it. No limits, my Love. As long as you were buying things for you and me."

You were giggling and grinning at him, playfully slapping his arm, before you showed off everything in your cart that was full of random clothes and food. You were adorable and happy. It was what he wanted to see.

That day, he was excited to see what your first purchase with the card. However, instead of the newly released sweatpants from your favorite brand, you bought him a hoodie and a handmade beanie.

Quinn didn't know that he could fall in love with you harder than he already had, but he did. He was so thoroughly in love with you.

When he should've let you shop, he only took your phone away, kissing you until your heads were spinning, your breaths mixing, your hands grasping each other's bodies. He made love with you for hours. Your bodies were wet with sweat. Your throats were dry and hoarse from panting and moaning so loudly. Your eyes were both heavy and laced with sleep yet you two kept gazing at each other while you were laying down, relishing the feel of each other, his cock still half-hard in your filled pussy.

Quinn was really having the time of his life whenever he scrolled through his email, seeing your purchases that were hiding from behind his own. Being able to provide for you financially was nice and fun, but he made sure not to neglect your other needs. He would shower you with praise when you went up the chain of command in your job, when you cooked the most delicious dinner that he would religiously wrote down the recipe so he could cook it for you too. If you needed his comfort when things go wrong, he was there to listen to your rambles, cuddling and hugging you. He was really happy.

He must say that his favorite expense to see was for your nails. He would end up imagining what had done. Would it be a simple manicure? A complex set? Would it be long or short? Would it be so shiny or not? He would never know until he came home, and that would ignite the flames in his veins.

He swore that he got a nail thing now.

He couldn't help it when his mind take him to how pretty your dolled-up hands around his cock, jerking him, working his pre-cum or lube down his length. You would tease his sensitive shaft with your nail and it would literally have him leaking, grunting and moaning, until he would snap, putting his hand around yours, making you jerk him harder. Oh, he loved coming on your hands, his thumbs teasing his cum over your nails. He would be grinning when you complained, cleaning his mess by licking and sucking his salty cum from your delicate fingers. One by one. Until you were begging for him to fuck you.

Sometimes he wouldn't be able to recover instantly, because he came so much. So while he rest, he would eat you out, marveling how you would tug at his hair while he feast on your wet pussy. He would be begging for you to scratch his scalp and you would. He would reward you by sucking at your clit, his fingers pounding and curling into the spot that had your thighs locking around his head.

He would make you come so hard that you were shaking and demanding that you needed his cock. By then, he would be ready so he would fuck your pussy, gritting his teeth as your nails dug and scratched into his skin. The pain and the pleasure blurred his mind, his desperation for you growing. He wouldn't be able to form any thoughts, kissing you so sloppily, fucking you so clumsily. His ears would ring but he would still hone into your breathy moans.

"I love you," he would whisper, his hips rolling as he fucked into you, making you scream and squeal not responding to him. So he would repeat, "I love you," over and over again, breaking and sobbing the longer he didn't hear you reciprocate.

But when you did say your "I love you", he would be preening, grinning into your neck, shuddering as he came at the same time as you did.

As you two laid on your sides, gazing at each other's eyes like always, Quinn would softly kiss your nails, feeling the sting of the scratches you left on your skin, saying, "The color looks so pretty on you."

You would glow so brightly, grinning and waiting for more compliments for your new set of nails.

And he would tell you more.

Anything for his Love.

12 midnight and I am already sleepy. Who am I?!

Lovelies @dancerbailey3 @loser-pretty-girl @tiredallthetimex @quinnintheabyss @r0wdymaize86 @macka @hughesmybaby @hockeygirlyyyy @bpinkblink @siennaluvshcky @arty-anon @hodgepodge-musings @alexxavicry @alwaysclassyeagle @svexhenthusiast @starrymari @hastielakeroad @thehuggybearslover @mrshelenhoran

-> more thoughts? List. Want to be notified? Join my taglist

[ruinix-dark]

His Pretty Doll

Relationship: dark bf!Q x F!Reader

Request detail: I'm having crazy dark thoughts again 👉🏻👈🏻.I just can't stop imagining Quinn fucking me so hard while I beg him to stop, overstimulated, screaming, pulling away, begging but he just won't stop. Going harder and faster till I go squirting all over him so fucked out that I almost pass out. I'm afraid I'm too far gone... 🥲-Bella 🫶🏻

Hello, lovely Bella! We all know dark Quinn would totally use you. That crazy one, for sure, got into free using you. What was that? Who said it?! The wind is very noisy today.

TW/CW: 18+ MDNI, Smut, Dark, Deranged Thoughts of dark Q, CNC (Consensual Non-Consent / You would say no, but he won't stop / No safeword = no stopping), Free Use Kink, Unprotected Sex, Pain Kink, Degradation Kink, Slight Choking, Overstimulation

Disclaimer | Inbox Rules | Dark Masterlist | Taglist

Quinn grunted, forcing your quivering thighs open because you kept trying to close them, thrusting his full length harder and deeper inside your wet and cum-filled pussy. He was gripping so hard that he knew there will be bruises on the backs of your thighs tomorrow and he couldn't care less. He wanted to see your bruises while you wore those skimpy cotton shorts that you loved prancing in like the fucking tease you were.

Your pussy was wasting the cum he had fucked in you, spilling out around him, dripping on the pillow under your hips, down the fucking sheets. You were wasteful. Such a fucking brat that always needed to be fucked at every moment so you could keep his cum in.

He rutted in you harder, rolling his hips, pounding against the spot that had you screaming like you were being murdered.

"Quinn, stop. Fuck. NO!" You screamed, bawling and crying, grinded his hips against yours, abusing your clit that way. "I can't do this. Stop."

You were full of shit. So fucking dramatic. As if this was the first time, he was using your pussy like a fuckhole. As if you didn't beg for him to use you while you were out on a fucking date and talking to his friends and his brothers. As if you weren't the same brat who had sucked him during the car ride home, only to back away when he was on the fucking brink. As if he didn't give you a safe word that you still hadn't used. Not that he wanted stop. Nonetheless, he would, because he was still tricking you that you had power in this relationship, but he didn't really want to stop. Ever.

He wanted to use your pussy until it was red and sore and bruised the next day. He loved seeing you look uncomfortable with tears in your eyes as you pouted, just proving to him that you were nothing but a slutty brat. His slutty brat.

"Shut up and take it," he growled, his hand finding your delicate throat, feeling your erratic heartbeat, your desperate and sobbing pants. "This is what you wanted, right? To be fucked like you were just fuckdoll. You are a fucking slut." Your pussy squeezed, your nails digging in forearm. "Of course, you loved being called a slut. What a whore."

"Oh my fucking God," you cried, your eyes turning so wide, waiting for more.

"Listen to your pussy. So wet. So fucking full of my cum but your whore pussy still wanted more, huh? It's never enough for cumslut like you." He smirked as your eyes shone with more tears. "That's what you are. A brat. A whore. A cumslut. Nothing more."

He knew how much you loved being degraded, but he also knew that those words were stabbing through your soul. You would be crying and sulking tomorrow. He would build you up, showering you with praise while he fucked your pussy again. It was always that vicious cycle. It was torturous as it was amusing. It was harsh yet exhilarating. You both loved that.

So, he didn't stop. He would squeeze down on your pulse, controlling your blood flow, grinning like a madman when you panicked.

He would fuck you harder and harder until you came. He should be riding your orgasm, prolonging it gentler, but he didn't. He would just fuck into you while you scream and push and beg for him to stop, still not saying your precious word.

He wouldn't stop even when he basically forced another orgasm out of you, torturing your clit with his thumb, pressing harshly down on your lower abdomen that had you writhing and struggling against him, because again, you came.

Again and again.

"Just tell me your word," he taunted, laughing when you desperately turned away to not say it, still refusing, still yelling, "No, no, stop. I don't want this. I don't want it anymore. Stop it, Quinn."

Oh, you were such a stubborn brat.

He gave you exactly what you wanted. He forced your body to give and give until you were gushing and squirting, your eyes rolling up as your body trembled and bowed. He knew it was too much, but again, you didn't say what you needed to say to stop this.

"You were so good." The words spilled out of his lips before he could stop himself.

He caught your smile, the spark of delight in your eyes, before you passed out as he spurted hot cum in your swollen pussy.

"You're perfect." He whispered, kissing your neck, your jaw, your tits, your collarbones, your unresponsive lips. "I love you so much, my Love."

Lovelies @dancerbailey3 @loser-pretty-girl @tiredallthetimex @quinnintheabyss @macka @hughesmybaby @hockeygirlyyyy @bpinkblink @siennaluvshcky @arty-anon @hodgepodge-musings @alexxavicry @alwaysclassyeagle @bellaione @svexhenthusiast @starrymari @hastielakeroad @thehuggybearslover @embrace-delusion @mrshelenhoran

-> more thoughts? Dark List. -> Want to be notified? Join my taglist! -> Got a dark requests? Send an ask in this account! For other blurbs, you may come to my main! 💜💜💜💜

[starbabyg]

I feel like Quinn would be the most romantic and creative of the Hughes brothers for Valentine's day. Like yeah, Jack and Luke are cute and romantic but Quinn?? That man would be Casanova. Writing you the utmost romantic letters, so eloquent and sweet. He'd do something every single day leading up to Valentine's day. Cooking for you. taking you shopping. Sending you flowers every single day. The man just knows love and romance. And it would all end with a romantic trip to the city of love, cause he's just cheesy and cute like that.

[gh0stsp1d3r]

win ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

A/N: okay.. I couldn’t come up with a title for this. Sue me.

Warnings: dad!quinn, rose is your daughters name (: all fluffy . short lil Drabble

summary: during one of your husbands hockey games, you and your daughter decided to surprise him!

MASTERLIST

As you gently placed the noise-canceling headphones over Rose's delicate ears, a soft babble escaped her lips. You gave her a boop on the nose before opening the door, her eyes fleeting around the unfamiliar place.

She was dressed in a little “daddy’s number one fan” onsie with denim shorts on and cute little bows in her hair.

A warm smile spread across your face as you stepped into the arena, the atmosphere wrapping around you like a blanket.

It’s been months since you’ve gone to a game, mostly because of Rose. You hadn’t even known you missed it so much until now. With your husbands jersey over your shoulders, you made your way into your front row seats, holding your daughter close to your chest and bouncing her on your lap.

It was then that you heard music play, and the time for warm ups began.

The opposing team began to skate out onto the other side of the ice, before the canucks did the same thing, all of them scattering around the ice.

Then, you saw your husbands number amongst them, a large grin making its way onto your face. You heard his name being announced, being introduced on the Jumbotron.

You glanced down at your daughter, pointing to the large screen on the ceiling. “Who’s that? Who’s that? Is that daddy?” You asked her, her eyes looking up at it curiously before letting out a little gummy smile when she saw her dad’s face show up.

She let out a babble, almost sounding like “dada.” You smiled down at her, nodding at her while laughing. “Yeah! Yeah, it is!” You cooed at her, turning to look back at the ice.

You noticed one of his good friends and teammate, Elias Petterson, point his stick in your direction, Quinn now looking at you, eyes widening.

In an instant, he was in front of you, a smile visible on his face as he stood there behind the dasherboard.

You stood up, placing your daughter on your hip as you showed her Quinn. He gave her a wave, smiling at the both of you.

Her babbles became more excited, reaching her little hands out, placing them on the plastic. He did the same with his glove, saying an estatic “hi!” to her, despite the crowd drowning out the noise.

You smiled at the interaction, watching him glance behind him, knowing he’d have to leave to go actually warm up soon.

He looked back at you, taking his hand away from the glass, sending you a smile and waving goodbye to her as he skated backwards, watching her raise her tiny fingers back at him in an attempt to wave.

He smiled at it, turning around but not before sending one last glance to the both of you, new goal in his mind.

Win, for the both of you.

[kawhh]

Heey hope u have a good time!✨ Am i the only one thinking about reverse dark!quinn? Like not quinn trying to babytrap the reader but the reader tries it? Like luring quinn into no condom, slipping it off during it or something?✨ And like Quinn's reaction? First panicking?

And back to answering asks I go.

I'm very, very heavily here for this. I'm down to dabble in every side to this, it just scratches the itch for me.

Warnings: deception, forcing condoms, physically restraining him with your body, tongue on ear action, angry quinn, panicked quinn, ignoring his protests, taking off the condom against his will, cumming inside, cockwarming mention.

He just really wouldn't expect it, wouldn't expect you to suddenly try and take control in the relationship. You'd always been passive, appearing innocent.

Obeying his every word, acting nervous when you fuck. Covering yourself up with his shirts, insisting on the lights being off.

Being unsure about every other position that wasn't missionary. Shock filling your face if he even grabbed you to manhandle you. The perfect picture of innocence.

Your underwear always pastel coloured cotton with little animals. Your act mastered - he'd never expect anything different from you.

He brought up birth control once and you stumbled over your words, your face flushing red - he dropped the subject and made sure he always had condoms on him so you wouldn't have to be concerned about it, not knowing it all fed into the plan.

Until one night when you wrap your arms slowly around his neck and he thrusts into you ever so gently, tugging on the wet ends of his hair with unusual force. Drawing a groan from his lips, his mouth parting in shock.

Burying your head into his neck to hide the growing smirk on your face, overstimulating him as you slide your tongue up to his ear, running the tip around the outside, making his hips jerk further into you, a rare moment of him losing control, trying to pull back away from you as you trap him - wrapping your legs tightly around his hips

His noises of protest getting angrier as you refuse to let him go, his face tightening with his impending orgasm, his cock head throbbing from the sudden new sensations. He's used to being slow and gentle with you, he's not used to the faster pace you're forcing.

He's trying to grab you, to force you off him as you take advantage to slide your hand down to reach him, pulling back just enough to make him pull out most of the way before you're yanking the condom off in a rush.

The panic on his face making you almost cum as you force him back into you once for good luck, the bare sensation of your cunt breaking him, the way he whimpers and begs you to let him go as he spills inside you.

You have no intention of letting him leave you, his body too weak to move an inch. You'll cockwarm him all night until it takes.

[softsunnyy]

🚨 choking, gagging, oral sex, dom! Quinn, two people obsessed, but this time it's Quinn who's crazier. Quinn is controlling, jealous, aggressive. He almost uses your other hole. Description of your body being hurt, but it's all consensual. Cockwarming, and i think that's it. If i forgot anything, I'M SORRY 🚨

poorly written, but this time i'll blame my hand

@ruinix , because u loved it, i hope you enjoy a new part of this <33

today you arrived at your dorm a little later than usual. It wasn't really your fault, since one of your classmates stopped you to ask you something, and he wouldn't stop talking, even though you told him you were short on time. The problem is, you know he won't care.

oh, and don't even try to explain that it was a boy who made you late.

you know what awaits you as soon as you open the door. It's quiet, and you get goosebumps because the place is really cold. You tried to look for him, but he wasn't anywhere visible, so you know exactly where to go.

your feet guide you before you can think twice, and your body feels frozen as you stand in front of your bedroom door. You internally debate whether it's best to open it calmly, or if you should walk in completely guilty.

you can't come up with an answer when the door opens in front of you and you see him. He looks at you angrily, desperately. He's not happy with you because you should have arrived 20 minutes ago.

do you know how desperate he got when you didn't arrive? when you didn't answer his call until ten minutes later than you were supposed to leave your class?

he doesn't even want to know what you were doing; he wants to see you suffer, for worrying him, for messing up the schedule he knew. For not being there and leaving him waiting with his cock aching and ready to be served and devoured.

“what the fuck are you waiting for?” his voice makes you jump, nervous, feeling small under his eyes. You move before even processing what he asked, leaving your things on the floor and starting to undress for him, as you'd learned lately.

since the first time, there hasn't been a day that he doesn't wait for you in your room, ready to take you in every way you could imagine. And he was training you, so you would know how to be good for him, so you would know how to behave around him.

and he just watches you, slightly satisfied at the sight of you on your knees on the bed, your body completely naked, at his disposal as it should be.

it's then that you see him unbutton his pants, pulling them down slowly, too slow for your liking, continuing with his underwear, freeing his cock, which stood proud, mad, red, with veins decorating its length.

and you wait for him, trying not to rub your legs together, trying to ignore the heat the sight of him causes you, because you know better.

when he stands in front of you, you wait for his instruction, opening your mouth. “You’re gonna suck my cock until i get bored, and i don’t wanna hear a single complaint about it.” you nod, and he brings his member to your lips, letting you put it inside your mouth at your own pace. His hand went to your hair, grabbing a handful so he could control your actions.

you start to push his length in slowly, but he loses patience midway and just thrusts, shoving the entire length into your mouth, making you gag, which makes him smile. Soon he started moving, thrusting in and out of your mouth while you tried to use your tongue, feeling the saliva drip down your chin and wet your body, leaving a disgusting trail of drool down your thighs.

gagging prevents him from fully entering each time, so your hand helps, masturbating what wouldn’t fit, going at the same speed as your mouth, listening to Quinn’s grunts.

“doing so good for me” he tugged on your hair, making you moan, which made his cock throb “Such a good whore” He threw his head back for a moment, enjoying how you tried to suck, to lick, to swallow his entire length, trying to make him enjoy it so he could forgive you.

and even though you don't say it, your pussy is dripping just from watching him enjoy himself, which motivates you even more, because you want to be noticed. You want him to bury himself inside you and tear at your walls until he reminds you why you must follow the rules. You want him to use your body and fill you until your hole can't take any more of his cum, until your body is completely stained with his fluids.

but when you made him cum, he didn't stop, he didn't let you stop. He kept thrusting into your mouth without slowing down, making you moan in protest, since you had barely been able to swallow his cum, choking a little on it, and making you need some air. However, he isn't going to give it to you, because he loves the way your eyes fill with tears and your face turns red.

he's getting overstimulated, but he doesn't care. He wants to fill your mouth again and again, until you can't swallow it anymore. And even though you cry and try to push him away, your hand keeps moving, continuing to caress his cock until you feel it harden like before.

and Quinn takes advantage, because he knows you'll do as he tells you, so he keeps cumming, even though his legs are shaking, even though his cock aches, and even though he sees the way you're desperate, barely able to breathe, remnants of his cum at the edges of your mouth, and you're rubbing yourself against the blankets so you can get some attention on your pussy.

“are you gonna cum like that? i haven't even touched you.” and you know it, which makes you moan, as pathetic as you look, and reaching your climax just like that, moaning so loudly that he had to take a second because it felt so good.

and your jaw aches, your wrist aches like never before because you´ve been jerking him off so quickly, but you don't want to stop. You want to suck him dry, until he has nothing left to give.

however, he still wanted to be inside you, so after cumming one last time, he pulled his cock out of your mouth, enjoying the way you gasped, trying to fill your lungs again, coughing a little, which caused some of his cum to stain your chin.

he didn't let you clean yourself up, and ordered you to lie face down and ass up, which you obeyed without a second thought. When you moved, you let him see the huge stain you'd left on your bed, proof of your intense orgasm, brought on just by watching him enjoy himself. And when he looked at your pussy, it glistened, smelling strongly of your arousal and soaked in your fluids.

he couldn't resist it, and before getting behind you, he leaned in to lick between your lips, tasting you. This made you whimper, and your body moved back, trying to feel him a little more. But that wasn't what he wanted, so he pulled away, stood behind you, and took his cock to rub it against your pussy.

he hit your clit with his tip, then thrust, forcing his way between your walls until he reached the deepest part of you. He ripped the air from your lungs, and didn't even give you time to compose yourself, penetrating in and out, hammering into you, placing his hands on your waist for more stability, and seeing the marks he'd left on your body the previous days.

his hands are marked on your ass cheeks, in now-purple bruises that made it painful to sit down. Your thighs are riddled with bites that burned too much the first few days. Your back is riddled with hickeys, and your waist is bruised from his fingers.

it looked like a crime scene, and he loved how it looked on you, and knowing that he did it, knowing that he marked you like that.

he was going so fast that one of your hands went to your back, trying to push him to slow down, but he just grabbed it, preventing you from moving, and making the pain in your wrist worse.

you moaned, you cried, you begged him, but he wasn't going to stop, and you knew it.

that's when he decided to ask the question you least wanted to answer, and the one that made you start to panic. You couldn't lie to him, because he'd know.

“where were you?” he questioned, leaning against your back, murmuring against your ear, still bruising your gummy walls from how hard he was moving.

“i…” you tried to think of a response, but it was impossible, and the knot forming in your stomach made it even harder “what?” you whimpered.

he tightened his grip on your wrist, knowing the pain would bring you back to reality. “Where were you?” He asked again, more impatient.

“i…” you sobbed, unable to think coherently. “I’m sorry, a boy…” you whimpered, not thinking for a moment about what you were saying. “A boy… stopped me.” You tried to breathe, but it was nearly impossible, and your lungs burned. “He wanted to ask me something about the class.”

you couldn't answer more than that, but it wasn't important. From the moment you mentioned a boy, Quinn's mind went red. His hands tightened on your body, squeezing some of the bruises and your wrist, making you moan in pain and pleasure. And anger flooded his mind again, causing the hand holding your wrist to let go, moving to your neck, which he grabbed brutally, squeezing, cutting off your breath, making you gasp desperately.

"a boy? you left me waiting for a boy?" his thrusts slowed, making you want to complain. However, they went deeper, kissing your cervix, repeatedly hitting the depths of your tight pussy.

you shook your head, tears streaming down your cheeks and your face bright red from the lack of air.

“no? but i think that's exactly what you just told me.” He sighed, feigning disappointment to make you feel bad, then released your neck, making you bury your face in the bed, panting loudly, trying to regain oxygen.

he continued moving slowly, and he straightened again, watching carefully the way he went in and out of you, thinking about his next actions. It was then that he pulled out of you, slamming your pussy with his cock again a couple of times, then with his hand, harder this time, dry, watching your fluids spurt in the process.

“Quinn!” you cried, trying to move away, though his other hand prevented you. He continued, watching your pussy turn red and irritated, until enough was enough.

when he guided his cock again, he decided to tease you, brushing against your other hole, making your eyes widen, surprised, and panicked.

“Quinn…” He inhaled, having to hold back his desires for a moment, and thrust into your pussy in one swift thrust.

“not today,” he said, more to himself, resuming his wild, animal movements, hearing the bedpost hit the wall.

the two of you didn't last long, and when you came, it was intense and loud. You drenched his cock with your fluids, making an even bigger mess. And he followed soon after, staining your walls white, marking you as his once again. Reminding you who you belong to.

he let you recover for a couple of minutes, without leaving you, and then he moved, adjusting you on the bed so he could lie behind you, hugging you and pressing himself against your body, still with his cock, now soft, inside you.

“i’m sorry,” you apologized, and he knew you meant for being late.

“don’t do it again. I got worried when you didn’t answer,” he sighed, relaxing at the scent of your hair. “I'm sorry too. I think i left a nasty mark on your neck.”

you just smiled, secretly enjoying it. Knowing everyone would look at you and know you belonged to him, that you’ve been put in your place.

they’d know someone was teaching you how to be good.

“it's okay,” you yawned, so you moved a little closer to his body, cuddling. “Goodnight.”

“goodnight, pretty girl”

[prettytoxicrevolver]

21 and Quinn

You stand in the living room of the Hughes summer home, staring at Quinn as he hugs his parents goodbye.

You still had another week or so before you had to return home but Quinn was first to leave this summer.

“I’ll call you guys when I get there okay?”

His mom gives him one more hug, his dad clapping a hand on his shoulder before the two leave the room and it’s just the two of you avoiding eye contact at all costs. As if that was going to stop Quinn from having to leave.

“I’ll see you soon?” he tries, glancing up at you but you shake your head.

You couldn’t put it into words how incredibly hurt you were just looking at Quinn. You had spent your entire lives being best friends, closer than ever, and yet the one summer you thought foolishly something more was on the horizon, he ripped it away by leaving you too early.

You spare him one last glance before walking past and heading right out the door towards the lake. You had a small reading swing tucked away at the edge of the lake and had spent most of your summer there so you should have expected when Quinn found you in a matter of seconds, frustration evident on his features.

“You’re not gonna say goodbye?” he asks, arms crossed and a frown propped on his lips.

“I’ll see you later,” you offer half heartedly, pushing away at the tears escaping.

“Fuck that,” he says, sitting down on the other side of the reading swing.

“What do you want me to say?” you ask helplessly, wishing he would have just gone so you could cry in peace.

“Anything but a half assed goodbye!” Quinn responds, raising his voice.

“I don’t want you to go!” you shout back and Quinn’s stunned face gives you all the courage you need to keep going.

“I want you to stay! I wanted to spend more time together! I love you! Is that what you wanted to hear?” you yell out angrily, not realizing what had just escaped you.

“You love me?”

“Fuckin A,” you curse quietly, getting up from your spot and praying Quinn doesn’t follow.

“(y/n)!” your prayers go unanswered as Quinn chases you down, gripping your arm and pulling you back with so much force you nearly fall.

You’re about to let out another shout of anger when his lips silence yours, sliding into perfect motion and filling you with warmth in seconds. It takes you far too long to respond as your arms tentatively make their way around his neck as his arms scoop you up and closer towards him.

“That’s exactly what I wanted to hear,” he murmurs against your lips and you roll your eyes but kiss the boy you love back regardless.

[amourquinn]

𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐁𝐎𝐘 ; quinn hughes ( drabble )

pairing : boyfriend!quinn x fem!reader wc. 734

genre : fluff, slightly suggestive no warnings

summary : quinn tries to focus on his video game, but you have other plans—ones that involve distracting him in the best way possible

the sound of buttons being rapidly pressed and quinn’s low voice talking into his headset echoed from the living room. you leaned against the bedroom doorframe, watching as he sat on the couch, entirely absorbed in whatever game he and his brother, jack, were playing. his posture was relaxed but focused, legs spread slightly as he hunched forward with the controller in his hands.

“no, jack. don’t go that way,” quinn muttered, his voice steady but tinged with annoyance. “i told you they’re camping there.”

you smiled to yourself. it was always entertaining to listen to quinn and jack bicker during their gaming sessions. they were competitive to the core, even when it came to video games. you watched for a moment longer before deciding that quinn had been playing long enough without giving you attention.

with quiet steps, you padded into the living room and plopped yourself onto the couch beside him. quinn glanced at you briefly, his brows furrowing. “hey, babe,” he said quickly before turning his attention back to the screen.

“hi,” you replied sweetly, leaning against his side. he barely acknowledged you, his fingers flying over the controller as he tried to keep up with the action on the screen.

“jack, i swear, if you—” quinn groaned, cutting himself off mid-sentence. his jaw clenched as he leaned forward slightly, completely focused.

you smirked, deciding to test just how much you could distract him. casually, you rested your hand on his thigh, your fingers lightly drumming against his skin.

quinn tensed slightly but didn’t look away from the screen. “what are you doing?” he mumbled, his tone half curious, half distracted.

“nothing,” you replied innocently, letting your fingers slide up and down his leg.

“jack, i need backup!” quinn said into the microphone, his voice sharper now. “where are you?”

the intensity of his game only spurred you on. shifting closer, you pressed a soft kiss to his jawline, just under his ear. quinn froze for a second, his grip on the controller tightening.

“y/n,” he hissed under his breath, turning his head slightly to glance at you.

“yes?” you asked sweetly, batting your lashes.

“i’m playing a game,” he whispered, his voice low enough that jack couldn’t hear.

“i know,” you said, trailing another kiss along his jaw.

“jacky, i’m down—revive me!” quinn barked into the microphone, his frustration clear.

you bit your lip to suppress a giggle, thoroughly enjoying yourself. “am i distracting you?”

“yes,” he admitted, his voice strained. “and you’re doing it on purpose.”

“maybe,” you teased, your hand sliding a little higher on his thigh.

quinn groaned softly, tilting his head back against the couch for a moment. “jack, i need a minute,” he said suddenly, pulling off the headset and tossing it onto the coffee table.

“what? we’re in the middle of—” jack’s voice cut off as quinn disconnected the call.

quinn turned to you, his expression a mix of exasperation and amusement. “you’re relentless, you know that?”

“i was bored,” you said with a shrug, shifting so you were straddling his lap.

“and you decided to make me lose on purpose?” he asked, his hands instinctively settling on your hips.

“exactly,” you replied with a grin, looping your arms around his neck.

quinn sighed, shaking his head, but his lips quirked into a smile. “you’re lucky i like you.”

“like me?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“love you,” he corrected, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips.

“much better,” you murmured against his mouth, your fingers threading through his hair.

the kiss deepened, and for a moment, the video game was completely forgotten. when you finally pulled back, quinn rested his forehead against yours, his eyes soft and full of affection.

“you’re a menace,” he said, his tone teasing.

“and yet, here you are,” you replied, smirking.

“here i am,” he agreed, pulling you closer.

you stayed curled up in his lap, the forgotten game still running on the screen. quinn didn’t seem to care, his focus entirely on you now. eventually, you reached over to grab the controller, holding it out to him.

“want to finish your game?” you offered, though your tone suggested you already knew his answer.

quinn shook his head, taking the controller from you and setting it aside. “nah. i’ve got something better to focus on.”

you grinned, leaning in to kiss him again. “good choice.”

© amourquinn

[ruinix]

God I might get in trouble for saying this but when I say I need to worship the man that is quinn hughes I mean it!

Hello, lovely. Here, you will never be in trouble, coz it is Quinn who will be in trouble for existing and being hot. 🙂‍↕️ This should be a simple thought….but….it became a full drabble. [This thot is also inspired by an excerpt i saw in Instagram (see at the end)] Severely no BETA. It is 3AM when i finish it.

Burning Touches

TW/CW: 18+ MDNI, Smut, Hurt/Comfort (slight), Body worship (m!receving), Teasing, Unprotected Sex (protections, please. It’s important, lovely), Overstimulation (m), Quinn is being pathetic (kinda subby if you squint. He is definitely. / Switch notes) or he is just too weak for you 😉

Count: 1716 words | Masterlist | Taglist

Quinn shivers the moment your hands finally touch his skin after hours of you tracing soft circles over his shirt. His hands grip the sheets to prevent himself from breaking his promise not to pounce on you and let you do what you want to do, because he will. He’s so close when all he can see is you on top of him.

Your eyes are glazed as you pour every bit of your attention on him.

The longer this goes on, the more he yearns for it. Every second, every minute, every hour, every day. That is all he wants. Him occupying your mind, because you occupy his. Every fucking day of the year.

When your finger slips under the hem of his shirt, he groans, nearly jumping at how quickly your eyes meet his, falling to his throat like you’ve marked the very sound that came straight from his fucking soul. Because it truly did. He’s fully bare. All his soul. All his body even fully clothed. All his mind. Every inch of him is at your mercy.

Then up, up and up, your hand travels. You purposely scratch your nails on his skin, marking and staking your claim with streaks. Physically temporary. Mentally permanent. Do you realize that? Every scratch you’ve made on his body is forever ingrained in his soul. Every single one.

All he can do is moan, pathetically thrusting his hips up for relief that he’s not at all getting because you aren’t sitting on his cock. Just on his thighs. His fucking thighs that are covered by his fucking sweatpants. Damn it.

‘Just why didn’t he just wear his boxers? Why did he pick these sweatpants after the shower? Just why?’ he hounds past self.

"Take it off, Quinn," you order, bringing him back to his reality.

You don’t need to expound. He understands, quickly sitting up, tugging his shirt with one hand, whimpering like a fool when you climbed off him so he can also remove his pants and briefs. His heart is aching at the smallest distance from you standing off the bed, your hands behind you. Too far. You’re too far. You shouldn’t be this far away from him. This shouldn’t be allowed.

You’re just two feet away, but it feels like you’re on the other side of a cliff where the connecting bridge has rotted and broken from the middle, effectively not letting him cross when all he needs is to be stuck to your skin. It won’t matter to him if there will be a deadly drop of sharp stone edges or a raging river. He will climb down—jump down if necessary—and crawl his way up to get to you. He needs you.

Despite his need, he only stares as he burns. He’s on fire as your burning-yet-dazed eyes soak in every detail of his body, taking your time. From his tousled hair, to the strands falling on his temple, to his slightly overgrown beard, to his shoulders, to his chest, to his abs, to his leaking cock, to his legs, down to his fucking toes. That makes him squirm, sitting back down with weak knees, his breaths coming in harder and harder.

His cock twitches when your eyes land on it. When your tongue darts out to sensually lick your lower lip, he falls further down steps of insanity. It hurts. His cock aches. So much. He needs to be touched by you. He needs to be fucked by you. He needs you more than ever.

Yet he sits, because he needs you to see how good he can be. For you.

 So good as he silently gazes at you, yearning for nothing more but your slightest touch.

"Just one touch. Please. Please. My Love," is the plea that got stuck at the tip of his tongue. The plea that he hopes you can see in his eyes, in the way he trembles. You must see him. He begs you to see.

The relief he feels when you step forward, crossing the impossible distance, is overflowing. Then you touch him, your palm meeting his chest, pushing so gently yet firmly. He fucking whines. You touched him. Now, he’s shaking even more. Too rattled. The anticipation is getting too much that his eyes burn from unshed tears. He can barely think as he follows your wordless order. He moves back to lay down. He gasps when you mount him. A lazy smile on your pretty face makes his chest tighten.

Why are you so beautiful? You are literally glowing. It’s probably the warm light of the lamps that you’ve carefully picked that made his house a home for both of you.  Yeah, the lights. But it’s you. You glow because you’re you. You glow because you are the light of his life.

A beacon that saves him in the darkness of nights.

No matter how exhausted he is—from the game losses, from the harsh speculations about him leaving, from the coldness of his teammates, his friends, being moved, from the cruel reality that his happiness doesn’t—or won’t ever—matter in the team after he gave everything for the team—you’re there to make it all better.

Oh, he’s lucky to have you.

His love.

He only realizes that he is silently crying when your thumbs brush away his tears, when you lean down and start to kiss the falling drops. You’re here. Always.A broken sob finally escapes him when you press your forehead against his. No words or permissions need to be said. He brings his arms around you as he seeks more comfort. The heated moment takes a pause. He cries because he needs to let it out and you know that.

“Don’t leave me,” he pleads. “Ever.”

“I won’t,” you immediately reply with no hesitation. “I’m here.”

“Again.” He tightens his hold.

“I’m here.”You squeeze your thighs against his sides, putting your weight on his chest, to ground him. It works. It always does. You repeat, “I’m here, Quinn.”

He cries and cries. He feels so vulnerable and so safe. He can be who he is, feel what he feels, break when he needs to, because you will always walk beside him, stop with him, wait with him as he gathers his pieces back together. You see him. All of him.

And he sees you.

He loves that he matches everything you give him. He will never be tired of doing so.

For minutes you two stay like that. Holding one another. Until his tears dry. Until he purges all the negativity with the help of your light that guides and that incinerates what needs to be gone. Until all that’s left is him still being absolutely fucking horny. His cock is begging for release as you softly rub your pussy over him, so slowly, so deliberate, because you know that his need is now different.

You press soft kisses all over his face, neglecting his lips where he needs it the most. Your hands slowly guide his to the headboard where he understands it should stay. He gulps and grips the bar. Shivers run down his spine because you don’t move to secure his wrists with the shackles dangling there for him to use on you or for you to use on him. Now, it’s for the latter, but you don’t use it. You simply trust him to keep his hands there. He won’t betray your trust. Not ever.

You kiss him lower. To every part of his body that you took your time drinking in earlier. He burns and burns and burns. So much more that you are touching him. Your lips ignite goosebumps on his skin, your tongue darting out to taste every bead of sweat that appears.

Your silent yet so loud repeated and cycling murmurs strum the strings of his soul, “You’re beautiful. You’re handsome. You’re strong. You’re amazing. You’re clever. You’re tenacious. You’re the very best.”

So affirming.

So touching.

He feels worshiped. Every kiss, every lick, every word affirms him. He feels loved. You love him. Only fool would be blind to that fact. Quinn is not a fool.

So, for every compliment, he answers, “I love you.”

Even if you don’t need to, once or twice, you reciprocate, “I love you too.”

When you kiss every exposed inch of him except for his lips and cock, you move up his body with more. Only now, your kisses are more of bites than kisses like you want to eat him.

You are eating him.

And instead of ‘I love you’s, while his knuckles are turning white as he grips the bar harder that he feels his arms cramping, his soul reverberating with every beat of his heart, he says “Please. Bite down harder.”

He needs you to leave bruises.

He needs you to break into his skin and make him bleed.

He needs you to swallow the slightest drops of blood of him.

He needs it so much.

Then, instead of compliments, you chuckle against his skin. Your eyes twinkle as you meet his pleading eyes. You murmur, mocking him, “Oh, you would like that, huh, Handsome?”

You won’t leave marks.

Not even the slightest imprint of your teeth. Not even the slightest discoloring for a hickey.

Not when he begs and whines and whimpers. Not when you sink your pussy down his cock. Not even when you fuck him after telling him not to move. Not when your pussy clenches around him so hard that he comes for you.

Over and over again.

However, when his mind is raw and fuzzy from how much you milk his cock that he can’t physically come anymore and when a tear of frustration escapes him, you finally bite down hard into his neck until his skin breaks.

Pain and pleasure shoot down his exhausted body. His cock twitches, aching and wanting to come but nothing comes out.

He is blacking out, his hands letting go of the bar, falling on the bed, not even going around you. He’s so spent.

Any noise is getting muffled, yet he hears your breathless and exhausted words so clearly.

“Such a good boy, Quinn. You did so well for me.”

The excerpt (I fear I got no link to source because I only screenshotted it days ago and it didn't leave my head one bit):

Good night 💙💙💙 I love you, sweeties, lovelies.

-> Want to be notified? Join my taglist!

[ruinix-dark]

hiii nix, i was wondering if i could request something?? okay this isn't superrr dark persay, but in my mind babytrapping!quinn would do this: like have a major lactation kink but in a very possessive way, and kinda takes pleasure in you being sore and sensitive during pregnancy 🫣

Hello, lovely. Oh my! Lactation kink, i see. I see... 😳😳😳 You are making me blush and be horny. I fear, i need to be put in time out! Please put me in a cage....

Something Sweet

Relationship: dark bf!Q x pregnant!Reader

TW/CW: 18+ MDNI, Smut, Lactation Kink, Light Pain Kink (only from your sore boobs), Implied Unprotected Sex, Implied Baby Trapping

Disclaimer | Inbox Rules | Dark Masterlist | Taglist

Quinn couldn't help himself as he sucked your pebbled nipples, his tongue circling around them, while his hands softly squeezed and groped your swollen tits. He could still remember the research he did that you could produce your colostrum at this point of the pregnancy. He wanted it. He wanted it so fucking badly, so he sucked and squeezed with increasing fervor.

"Quinn, please," you moaned, shifting uncomfortably. "I'm so sore."

"I know," he murmured, letting go of your nipple with a pop, only to replace his touch with his thumb, teasing the rounded tip. "Does this hurt?" He tugged on your nipple, making you whimper. "I promise I'm gonna make you feel better."

You looked so helpless, shifting again, looking so pained from something else, so he stopped.

"What is it?" he asked, getting filled with worry despite desperation to discover if you could produce that first milk. When you sobbed, he sat up, his eyes roaming around your body. From your swollen belly to your arms, to your bruised hips, to your feet, to everything else. Sure, he liked seeing you all sore but not this way when you were in visible pain. He grabbed your jaw, making you look at him in the eye. "Tell me."

"My back," you cried. "Hurts..."

"I'm sorry." His apology was immediate. Fuck, you weren't supposed to lay on your back for an extended period. "I'm really sorry, my Love."

His chest squeezed tight when all you could answer him was another pained whimper. Quickly, he helped you change your position to your side, fixing your pregnancy pillow around you, fixing it between your thighs. He tried to ignore his cum leaking out of your pussy. He just needed to clean the pillow tomorrow. No, he could just buy you a new one. You deserved the best for carrying his child, even when he made this pregnancy deliberately happen.

"Better?" he asked, reaching over to fix your hair.

"Yeah," you sniffled. "I need cuddles."

Quinn cuddled you from behind, kissing your shoulder, up your neck, murmuring his apologies over and over again. He shouldn't lose his mind like that. You were more sensitive now that you were entering your third trimester. He could push you, but there were limits. He needed to remember that. He needed you safe and sound and—

His thoughts halted when you guided his hand to your tit then you said, "I'm really sore here."

Once again, he changed his positions, laying in front of you, smirking at your cute little pants when he massaged your tits, at your little gasps when he went rougher with his ministrations, at your sobs when he leaned again to suckle on them.

"My poor sweet Love is so sore, so needy." He pressed a kiss on the underside of your breast, nipping at the sensitive skin, delighting in your incoherent grumbles about how you were always so sore nowadays. "This is my fault, huh?" he taunted, biting down on your nipple, his cock twitching, but he ignored it. "I made you pregnant."

You nodded, not really understanding the full weight of his words. You were so innocent, thinking that you really got pregnant simply from your odd chances of your pill. You didn't know how he had replaced it with placebo. You didn't know how easy it was to fuck a child in your fertile pussy.

Just a fucking week of pumping you full of cum without the pill. One week and one of his dreams came true. You were so pretty when you panicked, so pretty when you were anxiously waiting for him to come by the doorway, when you cried in happiness when he told you that you did so good. He wasn't lying. You really, really, really did good.

The ring on your finger was one of your gifts. It wasn't right that you would be ringless when you were carrying his child. If it were up to him, he would've eloped with you, but you were set on having a fancy wedding, so he would give that to you. He would give you everything and so much more.

"Oh, Quinn, fuck," you rasped, your arms coming around him, pulling him closer, as you grinded yourself on your pillow. "Please. More."

He sucked harder, his eyes shooting wide open when he tasted something so creamy, so sweet, so salty. He pulled away, hearing your needy whine, but he was so focused on the taste on his tongue. He squeezed your sensitive tits, marveling the lightly cream-colored droplet dripping.

Holy. Fuck.

It was like something shut down in his head as he dove to catch the small bead, savoring the taste, before he was desperately latching onto you. his other hand travelled to your pussy, his two fingers easily slipping in, fucking you.

All while he was audibly begging on your tits for one more drop.

So clumsy and badly written. I'm sorry :((

Lovelies @dancerbailey3 @loser-pretty-girl @tiredallthetimex @quinnintheabyss @macka @hughesmybaby @hockeygirlyyyy @bpinkblink @siennaluvshcky @arty-anon @hodgepodge-musings @alexxavicry @alwaysclassyeagle @bellaione @svexhenthusiast @starrymari @hastielakeroad @thehuggybearslover @embrace-delusion @mrshelenhoran

-> more thoughts? Dark List. -> Want to be notified? Join my taglist! -> Got a dark requests? Send an ask in this account! For other blurbs, you may come to my main! 💜💜💜💜

[fiakive]

LIKE A CRAZY-IN-LOVE TEENAGER

pair: quinn hughes x f!reader

genre: fluff, family, domestic romance.

warnings: mentions of pregnancy symptoms (nausea), light teasing, overwhelming sweetness, familial warmth, extreme affection, mutual obsession (in the healthiest way).

summary: pregnancy didn’t come with morning sickness or food cravings for you, it came with an overwhelming need to be close to quinn, your husband. while you feel oddly symptom-free, quinn begins showing all the signs instead, from nausea to sensitivity to smells.

fia's notes: i've been wanting to dive a little deeper into the reader’s pregnancy era, especially because quinn has been the softest, most loving husband ever. i really want to explore the depth of their love during that time like how they supported eachother, cherished the little moments, and grew even closer before the baby arrived.

join fia’s taglist. | pow-wow box.

Your pregnancy was strange.

Not in a way that frightened anyone, quite the opposite. It wasn’t the kind of strange that warranted hospital visits or frantic Google searches or emergency calls to your OB. No, it was something gentler. Quieter. Like the calm before a snowfall, serene and oddly magical.

There was no morning sickness.

No midnight nausea.

No aching back, swollen ankles, or weepy hormonal outbursts over cereal commercials. You slept deeply. You ate whatever you pleased. Your skin glowed like a clichéd magazine cover, and your body felt miraculously like it belonged to you.

But the strangest part of all?

You weren’t the one changing.

Not really.

What grew inside you didn’t wreak havoc but it brought peace. As if this baby arrived with the express purpose of tucking you into yourself. Keeping you steady. Like they knew you’d already carried so much before this, and now it was their turn to take care of you from the inside out.

You didn’t crave pickles or ice cream, or some extra weird food combo. You didn’t beg for peanut butter sandwiches at 2 a.m. or develop an overwhelming urge to smell laundry detergent. Your craving was for something or rather, someone, far more specific.

Quinn Hughes.

You needed him like air. Not in a sappy, over-romanticized, tragic-poetry kind of way. In a literal way. Your body knew him like home. Your nerves, your blood, your bones they all hummed his name. You needed his hand in yours. His scent in the room. The warmth of his palm against your skin, grounding you like an anchor in a storm you weren’t even in. It was as if the baby inside you sensed him and calmed.

“Daddy’s here. We’re good. We’re safe.”

Quinn didn’t question it.

He leaned in like he’d been waiting his whole life for this. If you reached for him mid-conversation, he was already moving. If you leaned into his side, he shifted to make space for you without missing a beat. If you guided his arm around your shoulder, he drew you in like you belonged there, because you did.

But that supernatural stillness that settled in your bones… seemed to stir in his.

While your pregnancy was a smooth sail over calm waters, Quinn, sweet, intuitive, heart-on-his-sleeve Quinn, began experiencing every symptom you were supposed to have.

Boiled eggs? Off the menu. He claimed they smelled like betrayal and broken dreams.

Your favorite perfume? He winced the moment you walked by in it, nostrils flaring like a cartoon villain.

He didn’t make a fuss. Didn’t moan or sulk or complain. He just... felt everything with you. Through you. For you.

Apparently, there was a term for it and it's called Couvade Syndrome, sympathetic pregnancy.

You read about it one night, curled into his side with your laptop balanced against your belly. You showed him the screen, laughing.

“Guess we really are sharing everything now.”

He smiled and kissed the top of your head. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Ellen, of course, thought it was the cutest thing she’d ever seen.

“If this isn’t love,” she declared one afternoon with a hand pressed dramatically to her heart, “then I don’t know what is.”

That weekend was her birthday. The Hughes family want to kept it simple, a cozy dinner at her and Jim’s home. The weather was gentle with Jack and Luke were both in town.

You were in the living room with Ellen, curled into the couch with a throw blanket over your knees, chatting about nursery colors and names. The kind that worked for a baby and the grown-up they’d become. Names with roots and wings.

Just across the room, Quinn was deep in conversation with Jack and Luke talking power plays and penalty kills and how he was going to 'absolutely cook that one defenseman next game.'

You smiled faintly, but you weren’t really listening.

Because there it was again.

That tug.

That quiet, cellular-level pull toward him. Your body yearning like gravity had tilted in his direction.

You stood without thinking and padded across the room. He was mid-laugh, one arm draped lazily over the back of the couch, when you stopped in front of him.

“Quinn.”

He turned to you, eyes lighting up instantly. “Yeah, baby?”

“Kiss me.”

No hesitation. No embarrassment. Just truth.

The room fell away when he looked at you like that, like you’d just asked him for something sacred. He reached for you immediately, hand curling around your waist as he pulled you into his lap and kissed you, slow and soft, like you were something holy.

Luke groaned. “Do we have to witness this every five minutes?”

Quinn didn’t even break the kiss.

“You wish you had it this good,” he murmured against your lips.

Dinner was overlapping stories, forks scraping against plates, the clatter of serving spoons. Quinn sat beside you, his hand resting gently on your thigh, thumb tracing lazy circles through the fabric of your dress.

But then it moved. His hand. Just for a second. Reaching for the salt, maybe. You didn’t even think.

You just reached down, grabbed his wrist, and plopped his hand right back where it belonged like you were putting a puzzle piece back into place.

Everyone saw.

Jack barked out a laugh. Luke nearly choked on a piece of bread. Ellen grinned like her heart might burst.

“He really is your comfort food, isn’t he, sweetheart?”

You nodded solemnly. “Every. Single. Day.”

That night, you stayed over at the Hughes house. Ellen had gone all-out for the guest room with fresh sheets, fluffy pillows, and even your favorite blanket from childhood, which she’d somehow tracked down and laundered with lavender.

At 2:14 a.m., you woke with an ache—not pain, not fear. Just… need.

"Quinn," you whispered, already reaching for him in the dark.

He stirred immediately, voice thick with sleep.

“You okay?”

"Can you hold me? Please?"

He didn’t answer, just rolled toward you and pulled you in, your cheek against the steady rhythm of his chest, his arms a fortress of quiet strength. You fell asleep to the sound of his heart, steady and slow, and didn’t stir once until morning.

When you woke, he was gone.

Panic flared but only for a heartbeat. You knew him. He wouldn’t go far.

Sure enough, he was outside, sitting on the back patio. Shirtless, sleep-ruffled, phone forgotten at his side. When he saw you, his arms opened without a word.

“C’mere.”

You settled into his lap like you were made to be there. His hand drifted to your belly, rubbing slow, soothing circles like he was speaking a language only your baby could understand.

Inside the house? Chaos.

Apparently, Luke had handed Quinn a boiled egg as a joke. Quinn, valiantly trying to be a good sport, took one sniff and promptly threw up into the sink. Luke howled with laughter.

“Are you pregnant too? Wait, am I getting two nephews?!”

Jack joined in from the hallway, toothbrush still in hand.

“Twins?! Since when?!”

Ellen arrived mid-hysteria and found Quinn rinsing his mouth with a paper towel pressed to his forehead.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

Quinn, pale but composed, nodded.

“Yea, Mom. Just morning sickness. I’m fine.”

Later, as you passed through the kitchen, Ellen pulled you aside, coffee mug in hand.

“You know,” she said softly,

“Some people think it’s strange, what Quinn’s going through. But I don’t. I think it means he loves you so much, his body can’t tell where you stop and he begins.”

That afternoon, you were curled up in the den together. A blanket tucked around your legs, Quinn’s fingers traced soft, lazy patterns on your arm, like he couldn’t stop touching you even if he tried.

You turned your head, chin tilted up.

“Hey… what does it feel like? The morning sickness?”

He chuckled softly. “Horrible. Eggs are dead to me now.”

You grinned.

“But,” he said, voice dropping into something tender,

“I’m glad it’s me and not you. If you had to feel all that, grow a whole person and throw up all the time I’d lose my mind. So yeah, it sucks. But if I can carry even a little bit of it for you, I’m happy to.”

The baby kicked.

Quinn’s hand moved instantly, settling over your belly like it was second nature.

“I think he agree with me,” he whispered, his forehead resting against yours.

Your heart softens. You think about Quinn is feeling this with you. The nausea, the exhaustion, the morning sickness that should be yours but somehow found him instead. It’s not just sympathy, it’s love, deep and instinctive. A kind of love that takes the weight from your shoulders without being asked. Because to him, loving you means making the hard parts softer, the heavy parts lighter. And somehow, just by being here, he makes it all feel a little easier.

And your body wasn’t the only one falling in love

[kawhh]

In honor of being very exhausted on this app in the last few days.

Quinn Hughes x F!Reader

"You know it won't help, right?"

Quinn's lips softly trailing gentle kisses up your arm, resting against your wrist for a pause, his eyes locked on the phone you're death gripping.

His tongue escaping his parted lips to taste your skin, feeling your shiver, trying to ground you with him, frustration in his eyes.

"They're just words. You know that. You have me."

His fingers slipping in between yours, forcing you to drop the phone on the bed, the instant relief on your face when it's away from you.

His nose on a path up your combined hands, resting his face against your linked hands.

"You're letting them get to you. Focus on me."

His hair brushing against your skin, goosebumps forming on your flesh. Heavy sighs leaving your mouth.

His free hand following the scatterings of peach fuzz on your stomach on its way down, slipping past the waistband of your adorable - in his words - kitten-adorned sleeping shorts.

Tugging insistently at the lace of your underwear, grumbling against your hand.

"Stop giving them attention. Pay attention to me."

His teeth nipping at your hand, forcing a squeak out of your mouth, taking advantage of your little jerk to fully slide his hand into your underwear, resting over your clit.

His grip tightening on your hand as the soft moans start leaving your mouth, breathy pants and whines reminding him of your shorts.

His circles against you gentle, nuzzling himself against you still, wanting you to lose your mind in him and his touch, the feel of his skin, his fingers ever so slightly rolling your clit between them.

"You're mine. I won't let them hurt you like this."

He doesn't speed up, doesn't slow down. Keeping his pressure just right for you, focusing everything on you. Knowing the frustration and anxiety is leaving you with every touch, exhaling all of the bad.

Your cries as you cum making him press one more kiss to your skin, sealing the exhaustion deal. You'll be too tired to look, your brain finally focused on yourself.

[sweetestcaptainhughes]

Can I request #56 with good old grumpy Quinn 🫶

Okay but this prompt is also me, I don't do hugs unless forced and I look like I am in physical pain every single time. Now if it was any of the men I stan yeah I will take a hug from them any day, any time.

Drabble Masterlist.

"I don't do hugs."

Everyone knew Quinn was the captain of the Canucks and hockey was everything in Vancouver. But you first met Quinn when you started working for the Canucks in their social media team. It was no secret the Canucks social media was just depressing. They needed help keeping their social media up to date on trends and stop being dragged on Twitter for looking like it was ran by a 45 year old man.

That was during last season when they entered playoffs. Quinn hated you when you were hired he thought it was stupid that you forced the guys to do TikTok's, and made dumb little polls on their Instagram. But somehow over time you both got to a point of mutual respect for each other. Both of you may not like each other but neither of you rolled your eyes when you both passed each other in the hallway. It was now September and the preseason officially kicked off in days. Media day was a such a long day for you, trying to fit as much filming as possible around players other obligations. Your day was filled with meeting with different members of the social media team, editing, trying to plan out all when you were gonna post during the season, more editing, and meeting with photographers to see camp photos that are being taken.

Caught up in all the things you had to do today you didn't even notice what time it was until you heard someone knock on your office door. Without even coming in you shouted "come in." The last person you ever suspected that would walking into your office / social media room would be Quinn Hughes.

"hey." His voice caused you to stop typing for the first time since he entered looking up making sure your ears identified the voice currently as Quinn. "I - uh - I noticed your office light still on and uh well it's almost 6 at night." You could tell he was getting nervous for some reason his hand going to the back of his neck as he continued to stumble on his words. "And I uh remember you told Petty last year that you don't eat when you get focused on work. So I - eh - I thought I'd bring you some food from catering staff. Hope you like salmon." As he put the to-go container from the catering department on your desk and suddenly you felt your stomach begging for food. Looking up at him your eyes soft in how much Quinn cared enough even though you aren't even friends. It just showed you agian that even though he hates the media aspects of his job he really is a sweet guy who cares about everyone in this franchise.

Standing up making a way around your desk you mumble out a thank you. "Honestly Quinn I could hug you right now." Taking a step forward and wrapping your arms around Quinn.

As you wrapped your hands around Quinn, it was the exact moment he said "I don't do hugs" and made a face that seemed like he was uncomfortable but you couldn't see it as your arms were wrapped around him.

"Well too late were already hugging." you mumble, your voice muffed by his chest. Even though Quinn Hughes hated hugs, he let you stand there and hug him. Just when he thought about hugging you back you pulled away and his mood became sour suddenly. Even on his way home that night he found himself annoyed for not just hugging you back and he's not really sure why.

[prettytoxicrevolver]

8. Scenario with a plot for Quinn?

8. I read our kid a book about the things snowmen do at night and now we’re taking a walk at two in the morning to show them the actual snowmen don’t do anything

“Mom!!” you hear a whispered scream in your ear. Your head lolls, trying desperately to get away from the noise but a tug on your arm brings you right back towards the noise.

“Mom!!” you hear, louder this time to the point it wakes you up with a start. You look around nervously, finally coming face to face with your twin boys.

“What's wrong?” you ask, your voice cracking from lack of use. You’re fully awake now, pulling both young boys onto the bed and searching their faces and bodies for any sign of physical harm.

“We can’t sleep,” Hudson says and Oliver pouts and nods in agreement.

“Dad told us a scary story,” Oliver continues and you can’t help the small sigh that releases from your lips.

“Quinn,” you say, turning and shaking your husband until his soft brown eyes flutter open to look at you.

“What story did you tell the boys?” you ask and his face flushes in guilt.

“Dad said that when everyone falls asleep, the snowmen wake up and move around at night,” Hudson rushes the story, tears forming in his big blue eyes.

“And they steal toys from bad kids and take away all the snow!” Oliver adds and it takes all of your willpower not to giggle at your twins.

Instead, you turn towards your husband and Quinn is smiling sheepishly up at you. He sits up, gathering Oliver up in his arms and moving out of bed.

“Where are you going?”

Minutes later, you, Quinn, and your twins are walking down the deserted Vancouver streets. Hudson clutches your hand while Oliver clings to Quinn. The boys are staring down any snowmen they see, carefully watching and wondering if they’ll move or not.

“See?” Quinn says. “They aren’t moving. It was just a story I promise.”

“Mom?” Oliver asks, looking at you for confirmation.

“Promise my love,” you respond and the twins look at each other before nodding.

At this point, the four of you head home and unbundle yourselves from the mass of clothes you put on to brave the cold Canadian weather. You carry the boys upstairs and in a last second decision, follow Quinn as he carries Oliver into your shared bedroom.

You both place the boys down in the middle of your king sized bed and when you step back you can’t help the smile on your face at the sight of them.

“No more bedtime stories, yeah?” you ask Quinn and he smiles, wrapping you up in his arms and pulling you in for a deep kiss.

“Promise,” he reassures and you grin, climbing back into bed with your boys.

[86espresso]

can i get character B yelling character A’s name while they’re hurt for quinn hughes or nico hischier? i just found your blog and i am LOVING your writing. thanks for sharing your gift!!

I love you sososo much thank YOU 🥹 ty for requesting! so sorry it took that long 🩷

☯︎ character B yelling character A’s name while they’re hurt

idk if this means character A is hurt or character B is hurt so I just made something up

warning wounds, blood, almost drowning, pls take swimming lessons guys :)

You’d lost count of how many times Jack had whined for you to get into the water with the other guys, and how many times Quinn had told him to leave you alone.

Your relationship with Quinn was a relatively new development, but everything was going right and his family loved you enough to persuade Quinn into bringing you over during the summer.

You finally give in to Jack’s pushing and sit up, taking your cover up off. You catch Quinn eyeing you shamelessly the way you were doing with him earlier and half-smirk as Jack bounced happily towards you and yanked you in the direction of the steps of the boat.

Now, you weren’t exactly the best swimmer in the world. You could float and tread in shallow waters, but by no means were you trained enough to save your life. You were about make Jack aware of that fact before he gathered you in his arms and sent you flying into the water.

A scream ripped through your throat right before you hit the water. “What the fu-”

You land horizontally and painfully in the water but your body was bending in on itself and you didn’t have the strength to upright yourself.

Above the surface, Quinn hadn’t yet noticed that you’d taken a little too long underwater and was still shoving Jack for intimidating his new girlfriend.

It was a good 15 seconds since you jumped before Trevor spoke up from a few feet away.

“Yo, where’d your girl go?”

Quinn froze, feeling his blood run cold when he sees nothing in the water at first glance but then sees the top of your head bob to the surface, your body terrifyingly still. What makes him yell out your name, though, is the small pool of blood around you.

The last thing he registers is the blood draining from Jack’s face as he dove into the water, opening his eyes and trying to locate you. Quinn sees you a short distance from him, and grabs a hold of your body, pushing both of you to the surface.

You’ve properly passed out with the almost-drowning and large scratch on your back from one of the spiky plants underwater. The next few minutes, Quinn worked as if on autopilot. His movements robotic but frantic as he first brought you to consciousness, instructed Trevor to drive back to the docks, and tried to console Jack as he apologized his ear off.

He felt like he was in a haze when the ER discharged you after making sure you didn’t have an infection and had enough blood, your lungs weren’t full of water, all the important stuff.

You laughed watching Jack scrunch his nose in disgust when Quinn offers to teach you swimming with a suggestive smirk on his face, rolling your eyes as he leans in to peck you again, his lips lingering as if he still isn’t over the way he nearly saw you drown.

Quinn watched as you comforted Jack even though it was you who almost lost your life. He didn’t know he could feel so strongly; fear of losing you, comfort and contented by watching how you were with his brothers. He’s falling for you hard and fast and he isn’t scared because you looked at him the same way; with a gaze full of love and affection.