just a girl who loves really dirty smut & the red wings
can usually be found developing ways to combine the two
requests are open!!!
• feel free to request some super dirty shit if you'd like or some cutie stuff! i'm not picky
• also my writing list is NOT extensive - request any body you want and i will tell you if i write for them!!
full master list • requests
NHL
emmitt finnie
exes that are really bad at being exes - smut - you meet by chance at a bar, both single, both still in love. so naturally you end up in his apartment, saying things you should not have been thinking while you were with other people
a griffin's purgatory - fluff - emmitt gets reassigned to the griffin's and he's less than thrilled
down, boy - smut - your new heels weren't much of a thrilling purchase to you, until you put them on in front of Emmitt, and he couldn't control himself.
lucas raymond
min lilla ylva - smut - lucas likes your nails, specifically when you're under him and they're dug into his back. the marks you leave, well those are just his trophy for treating you right
twin bed - smut - spending time in sweden with lucas was exciting, especially meeting his family. until lucas decided he wanted more than just a good night's sleep on his childhood twin mattress.
simon edvinsson
hockey hands - smut - you were obsessed with simon's hands, which led to you finding out a few things about yourself.
bloody knuckles - smut - simon's fight with brady tkachuk stirred some pretty intense feelings that he couldn't just push away
a spot in his heart - smut/fluff- you were anxious to tell simon you were a virgin, but you weren't expecting the sweet response he'd have for you
high stakes - smut - as simon's best friend, you always came to team parties with him. this one was no different. except that you two tried smoking together, and suddenly years worth of walls came crumbling down between you.
tastefully tailored - smut - simon was a big guy, that much was plainly obvious. but just how big was he under the belt? that was for him to know, and you to find out, in a way that revealed some things he wasn't prepared for.
exchange student - smut - visiting your childhood friend Simon in Detroit was supposed to be fun and nostalgic, until you asked him to show you a thing or two.
connor bedard
sweet dreams - smut - connor's roadie left him exhausted, annoyed, and terribly horny. what else was he to do when he walked into his apartment to see you fast asleep in his bed?
little black dress - smut - it was all star weekend, and connor brought you as his plus one. seeing you in your dress left him unraveled, leading to him needing to take you both in public, and in private.
ben kindel
too much - smut - waking up in the middle to ben being needy for you, so you give him exactly what he's asking for
coming soon...
fandoms I plan to write for / would like to write for (feel free to request!)
other nhl teams / players
dcu (dick grayson, jason todd, bruce wayne, damian wayne, tim drake)
project hail mary (ryland grace)
criminal minds (aaron hotchner, spencer reid)
probably other as well - i am a weirdo freak & love a million different fandoms
could you pls do smut w ben kindel? just pure filth of reader jerking him off from behind? like they're spooning and reader is behind him and is jerking him off n overstimulating him? pls pls pls pls pls
a/n: if anyone wants phenomenal ben kindel content, definitely check out @hockeyduck especially the puppy!ben stuff !!!
Your bedroom is quiet, the darkness absolute against your curtains pulled tight.
It's unusual for you to wake up at a late hour like this, unprompted and with no alarm.
You feel a insistent poking at your back, and hear a muffled whimper in the pillow next to yours.
Well, that would be why.
Ben was failing miserably at stifling his sounds into his pillow, grinding his hips in jerky thrusts against the curve of your ass.
"Ben," you murmur, blinking awake fully.
All he did was let out a longer whine in response, pressing closer to you.
"'M sorry, couldn't- couldn't help it," he mumbles against your neck, "Been up for an hour."
His mouth left sloppy kisses on your neck, warm saliva sticking to your skin as he went.
His movements were nearly frantic now, his hips trying to find any kind of friction against your sleep shorts and his boxers.
He lets out a frustrated groan, pressing his nose into the curve of your neck.
You give a long sigh, as you press back into him firmly. Grinding your hips once against the hard line in his boxers.
Ben gasps softly, his hands pawing desperately at the waistband of your shorts.
"Please- please lemme- just a little- be so good I promise," he pleads, fingers fumbling in his haste.
You swat his hands away, much to his dismay as he whines louder.
"No, I'm tired," you say, rolling to face him.
Though he couldn't see you, he knew you were giving him that stern look. The one that meant he was in trouble.
Ben's hands clench and unclench at his sides, as he tries his best to lay still.
It lasts for about five seconds, before he's rutting into the mattress with a few pathetic whines.
"Please! Just a little-" he begs, his hips stuttering.
"Fine," you say, scooting closer to him, "but you're not getting inside me. You're gonna take whatever I give you. Got it?"
His head bobs up and down eagerly, as he settles his back into your chest. His own chest is heaving, clearly buzzing with desire.
You drift your hand down his abdomen, coming to cup him through his boxers. He bucks once against the sudden pressure, a choked gasp punching out of him, before he forces himself still.
You rub your palm against him slowly, fingers dragging across him and ghosting over his tip.
Mercifully, you help him slide his boxers down, and his cock springs free to slap up on his stomach. His eyes shut tight against the sudden cool air touching his heated length.
One hand wraps around him, stroking slowly. Your other arm is around him, stroking his shoulder and down to his chest.
He's panting now, his muscles tight as he tries to relax against your tortuous pace. He's nearly vibrating as he holds himself as still as he can.
"Don't tease me- I can't- I can't do it right now," he manages to plead, as your thumb sweeps over his slit.
You hum lowly, swirling the bead of pre-cum around his tip, drawing a long whine from him.
Your thumb circles over his swollen tip, making him twitch as you play with it.
"Thought you wanted me to touch you, Benny? Isn't this what you wanted?" you say in deceptively innocent tone. Ben's hands ball up into fists as he tries not to beg you to go faster.
He just nods, "Y-yes. I'm sorry- this is what I want, it's so good. Your hand feels so good."
You giggle softly, and start stroking him faster. Your hand moving up and down on his hard cock with a pressure that you know he can't handle for long.
Ben yelps at the sudden change, burying his face into his pillow as he lets out small whines. Little ahs- oohs- mmphs- as he desperately tries to hold in his orgasm under your knowing touch.
"Come on Benny. Gonna make a mess for me? Cum all over yourself," your voice is a silken whisper that acts as a siren call to him.
With a shuddering groan, Ben's hips jerk up a few final times as he shoots ribbons of cum on to his stomach and the sheets next to him.
Before he can extricate himself from the pillow, to thank you for letting him cum, he feels your thumb and forefinger squeeze into a ring under his flushed tip.
He lets out a high pitched whimper as you slowly drag your hand back down on him, your grip tight and unyielding.
"Wait-! No, no please- I can't- ngh-" he whines, his abs flexing at the intense pressure of your hand.
You don't stop, stroking his half-hard cock and spreading his cum against it.
"I thought I said you were going to take everything I gave you?" you said, punctuating with a nip on his earlobe.
Ben cried out, trying to squirm away from the overwhelming touch on him.
"Can't! Please- it hurts. Hurts s'bad- too much-" his voice is a tumble of broken cries, desperate and keening.
Your thumb presses over his slit again, your fingers squeezing hard on his tip to draw a ragged moan from him.
Your other hand slinks down his chest, pinching his nipple in time with the movements on his cock.
Ben is trembling now, a tear slipping down his cheek as he starts to feel himself get pulled to a weaker, harder edge.
"Please- I can't cum again- it's- it's so much-," he cries, his eyes screwed shut tight, his body quaking with overstimulation.
You shush him softly, whispering in his ear.
"Oh it hurts?" you mock softly, "You can take it. I know you can give me another one."
You roll his nipple between your fingers, Ben's cock throbs in your hand as you do.
He's close again, you can tell by the way that he's trying not to meet your grip, not to thrust into the sensation.
With another sharp tug on his length, he hits his second release.
He comes with a guttural groan, hips twitching and squirming as he shoots a weaker load over the first.
Your hand gentles, stroking softly until he's wriggling away and whining softly.
You release your grip, sliding one hand into his hair, scratching at his scalp.
"There you go. Told you you could give me another one," you murmur, voice soft against his neck as you press a kiss there, "That's my good boy, Benny."
The words soothe him as his tremors begin to subside, his body laying heavy and limp on the mattress.
With what little strength he has left, he rolls over, and pulls you in to his chest.
"Thank you... thank you," his sniffles softly, "You're so good to me..."
You press a kiss to his cheek, playing with the curls at the nape of his neck.
You both fall asleep shortly after, a contented sigh slipping from his parted lips as he drifts off.
So I thought of a request inspired by the one where Simon Edvinsson was together with a rather inexperienced and innocent girlfriend. Now I want a little twist: What about him having a visit from his childhood friend (who is a girl). She is a rather innocent girl and wish to have someone teach her how to please herself. She opens up about her lack of experience to Simon and nervously asks if he would tell her how to (or teach/show her). Simon is hesitant because he don’t want to take her sweet innocence, but sees how important this is for his friend, who feels like a fool for being so uneducated about whatever everyone else her age seems to know and have experienced. Could you do something like that?
This was rather specific but in short; Simon educating his innocent childhood friend on how to masturbate/please herself. I would want this to be very soft but full of tension. A little different than what you probably previously have written… However I of course understand if you may not be able to write it.
The idea came from me rewatching Bridgerton (🤭) as it goes to the scene to show how Simon (the Duke) explained it to Daphne (from Bridgerton series).
here it is!
so i spun this just a tiny bit, but i hope it still was what you were looking for :)
summary: visiting your childhood friend Simon in Detroit was supposed to be fun and nostalgic, until you asked him to show you a thing or two.
content/warnings: 18+ mdni!!!!! smut, praise, dirty-talk, fingering, masturbation, getting walked in on, swearing, etc
wc: 2.5k
a/n: this was a little all over the place, but i wrote it quickly so im sorry if it seems jumbled </3
You'd been at Simon's for a few days now, visiting him while he was on a short break from the season. He'd been begging you to come see him, to watch a game before you went back home.
Simon was ecstatic when you said you'd booked your flight, and he prepared the guest room the same night.
When you arrived, it was like no time had ever passed. Falling back into your old rhythm just as it had always been. When he moved away to go play hockey, you were devastated but happy for him. The selfish part of you wanted him to stay of course, but you wanted him to succeed.
So staying in his Detroit apartment was the perfect getaway for you. It was cozy, warmly decorated, and so Simon. It was perfect.
Your only problem, was that you didn't realize how much time had festered your feelings that had always lingered deep in your stomach.
And seeing him now, here, older and roughened slightly from his new life. It forced you to confront things.
You knew Simon was experienced with dating. He'd had girlfriends when you were younger. And you'd be surprised if he hadn't met at least one Detroit girl in his time there.
You though, you never had any of that. You'd always been intensely focused on yourself, on doing what you loved.
What also kept you from dating, which you refused to come to terms with, was the fact that no guy had ever treated you like Simon did.
And you didn't like that.
So now, you were in his apartment.
And he was just there. So close yet so, so far.
The entire week was a case study in how quickly the tension between you could build.
The first day was completely fine. Just childhood friends catching up on stories they'd only texted about. He showed you the city, and you crashed into his guest bed with no issue.
The second day, tipped the scale in a different direction.
It started in the morning.
It was unconscious for Simon. Waking up, rolling out of bed and going to make coffee. His state of undress, just a pair of loose athletic shorts, didn't seem to cross his mind.
But it crossed yours. Immediately upon entering the kitchen. Where his broad back and muscled shoulders were facing you. You blushed pink, trying your best to ignore it and try to be normal.
"Morning," you said in a voice that came out way more nervous than you intended. you cringed before he looked your way.
Simon's head looked over his shoulder.
Unfortunately for him, seeing you wasn't much better.
You were soft from sleep, eyes still fluttering awake. Your sleep shorts were hanging low on your hips, your tank top too short to even try to cover your stomach. Standing there, in his kitchen, fixing him with the look he'd always been weak to.
This was going to be a rough week. Both of you thought it, both of you too nervous to admit it.
It was on the fifth day, that everything changed.
Simon was gone that evening, him and a few of the other red wings deciding to hit the bars that night. Ever the responsible one, Simon was primarily going as back up and drunk person transportation service.
So you were alone, in his guest bed, with a hand between your thighs.
You'd been trying for the past half hour to release some of the tension from the week. You were getting frustrated, near tears at the ineffective attempts.
Maybe it was the sheer lack of focus that made you miss the sound of the front door opening. Simon's keys jingling as he softly shut it behind him.
His steps were quiet up the stairs, trying his best not to wake you at the late hour.
But when he pushed your door open to check on you, you were decidedly not sleeping.
His eyes widened as he took in the scene. Your eyes shut tight, brow furrowed in concentration, and your hand working frantically between your legs.
He let out an involuntary whimper, immediately clapping a hand over his eyes and spinning to face away.
"ohmygod, imsosorrry-" he said in a rush as he tried desperately to extricate himself from the entire situation.
Your eyes flew open, your hand stilled as you saw Simon's retreating form through the open door.
That did not just happen.
You were pretty sure you could've died. Right then.
You scrambled to pull your shorts on, forcing deep breaths into your lungs.
Okay. Cool. Simon just walked in on your pathetic attempts at masturbsting. In his apartment. In his guest bed.
Awesome.
All you wanted to do was close the door, to forget that this was his house and just bury yourself in the comforter forever.
However, that was unfortunately not a possibility.
Your only choice was to face him.
You took a long, steadying breath, and made your way into the hall.
You could hear simon in the living room, his footfalls indicating he was pacing. His nervous habit.
You approached slowly, stopping on the threshold.
He looked up. Stared at you.
You stared back.
Silence.
"Um..." you started, your voice quiet, "I'm- I'm sorry-" it was feeble, a terrible attempt at saying anything of substance.
Simon blinked, expressions warring on his face as he took in your sheepish form, the way your cheeks were still flushed from exertion, the way your eyes were burning into his.
What the hell was he going to say? It's okay? Don't worry about it? Oh yeah no worries, I'm hard as fuck because of that?
He opened his mouth, but any words stalled for a few seconds.
"Don't- apologize," he stuttered, "Everyone has their... needs. And, stuff."
Smooth Edvinsson. Real good one.
You almost smiled, if the awkwardness hadn't been so suffocating, you might've laughed.
"Yeah, I guess... I'm just not great at taking care of mine," the words fell before you could even second guess.
Oh god, you just said that. You just admitted that.
Simon's eyes only widened.
"You... can't? Or- what... what do you mean?" he asked in earnest, his awkwardness fading slowly into a dangerous curiosity.
You flushed a deeper crimson. What was the point in lying now? You'd already admitted you can't make yourself cum. What could be worse?
"W-well, I've never been able to... like, do it. Myself," you said, the words finding their way out in small fragments.
Now simon was really curious, his mind starting to toe the line of no return.
"You've never...?" he questioned, his exhale was harsh as you shook your head.
You fidgeted with your fingers, mumbling as you looked down.
"I never learned how, I guess. Never had a... boyfriend."
Simon shook his head slowly, "That's... unbelievable," was the only thing he said.
Your head snapped up, "Why?"
Simon's expression crumbled as his resolve visibly cracked.
"Because you're- you've always been- you're amazing," he says quietly.
You weren't sure it was possible for you to turn a deeper shade of red.
A dangerous idea crossed your mind. It was callous. It would literally break every single boundary that had been established between you.
But the tension from the week, the years of secretive pining, and his heated gaze, gave you a stupid bravery.
"Would you... want to teach me?" you said, your hands shaking visibly as the words left your mouth.
Silence.
You could've heard a pin drop on a the carpeted floor as simon stared at you.
His thoughts were racing, throwing hundreds of things around in mere seconds.
Had you actually just asked him that?
And was he really about to say yes?
Simon was motionless, and you were afraid you'd ruined everything. made a stupid mistake that would never be reversible between you.
Meanwhile, simon's brain had literally short circuited. he was trying desperately to process what you'd said. you wanted him to... teach you?
He was still trying to reconcile the idea that you'd never had an orgasm before, and now you were asking him to show you how to do it.
This had to be some kind of dream.
He finally regained control of himself, saying, "You're- you're serious?"
Your head nodded before you could think better of it.
His breath came out long and slow.
He couldn't. right? He couldn't be the one to do this.
But you were looking up at him so hopefully, your eyes sparkling and utterly convincing.
Hell. He was absolutely powerless against that look.
He ran a hand through his hair, then over his face.
Before you knew it, he was leading you by the hand down the hall, towards his bedroom door.
This was actually about to happen. Not just some fantasy, but Simon's real, warm grip on your hand.
Now you were nervous.
He pulled the door shut, looking at you.
"You're one hundred percent sure about this?" he asked, searching desperately over your face.
You could only nod, tongue feeling heavy and useless in your mouth.
"Words. Please. You have to tell me with your words," he pleaded, squeezing your hand.
"Yes. I- I want you to teach me," you managed to choke out against nervous breaths.
Simon walked over to his bed, sitting up against the headboard.
"Okay... do you... want to sit in my lap?" Simon said as he gestured to the space between his outstretched legs.
Clumsily, you climbed into his lap. Sitting with your back against his chest, your trembling legs draped over his.
Simon tried to breathe, tried to control everything in his mind to just make this... normal? That was the wrong word. Teaching your best friend how to masturbate was not normal.
Yet here he was.
"So... you should probably take these off," he said softly into your ear, gesturing to your shorts.
You pushed them down slowly, with shaking hands, self-consciousness creeping in with your doubt.
"I- are you sure you're okay with this?" you whisper, shorts pausing at your mid thigh.
Simon placed a gentle, reassuring hand on your knee. "If you want it, I want to help," he said, stroking his thumb slowly.
You let out a shuddering breath, kicking off your shorts and spreading your legs.
Simon peered over your shoulder, and almost immediately regretted it.
His cock jumped violently at the sight of your little pink cunt. Shining with the wetness left over from when he'd walked in on you. He shut his eyes, but the visual was burned into his mind.
You felt him tense behind you, his silence making you anxious. Your heart started to pound.
"Simon? Is everything okay? Did I do something wrong?" you asked in a rush, unconsciously going to close your legs.
Both of Simon's hands landed on your thighs, holding you open with a firm yet gentle grip.
"No no. God, no. You're just... so beautiful," he rasped, trying to bring himself back under control. This was about you. About helping. Not about the fact that he wanted to pull his shorts down and set you down right on his cock.
Simon took your hand in his, guiding it to your inner thigh.
"Just start like this, really gentle. No need to rush it," he rumbled lowly in your ear from behind you. His head was resting against yours, his breath warm on your temple as you both looked down to where his hand was moving yours closer.
You gasped softly as your own fingers ghosted lightly over your folds, just a slight touch that made you shiver. It was different than the frantic, usually frustrated energy that surrounded this for you.
"And just start with one finger," he said, pressing one of your digits against your entrance, "Just push it in really slow, feel the stretch."
You whimpered as you plunged your finger in, pressing slowly inside. It was overwhelmingly intimate. The way Simon's warmth was radiating into your back, his large hand engulfing yours as he moved with you. Your eyes fluttered shut as he encouraged you to guide in another finger.
The rhythm he had you set was slow, almost torturously teasing.
Simon's voice was a low, constant vibration against your temple. Whispering soft praises and encouragement into your ear.
"That feel good? Nice and slow. Just focus on the feeling, don't think too much," he breathed, and his own thumb came to play gently with your clit.
You gasped, his fingers still helping you thrust in slowly, but the new sensation of the rough pad of his thumb was overwhelming.
"Ah- I- I like that- that's good," you moaned softly, your own fingers now feeling useless in the face of his practiced movements.
Simon shut his eyes tight. He hadn't meant to use his own thumb, he meant to press yours there. Guide it like he was your other fingers.
But he couldn't help it.
He was dying to see how you'd moan when he touched you, to feel that perfect sensitive flesh quiver under his digits.
"You... you want me to- to help?" his breath was coming out in soft pants now, a bead of sweat falling from his temple.
You nodded quickly, and his fingers slipped in place of yours.
Immediately, you pressed your head back against his chest, eyes closing.
It was so, so much better. His fingers so much longer, so much thicker than your own. He was pressing and curling inside you, thumb never stilling as your legs shook.
Simon was trying desperately to make it slow, to keep it so sweet and good for you. To draw out every little sensation until you were whining to him.
His fingers dragged, the texture of the pads creating an exquisite feeling inside you.
"That's right baby, just relax. Let me take care of you," he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple.
He was getting more confident now, thrusting his fingers deeper, curling tighter, thumb swirling quicker.
Simon was rewarded by your moans changing pitch, your breathing quickening.
"Ah-! It feels- my stomach feels- tight-" you whined, your nails digging into his thighs next to you, "I'm-" you tried to say, but a loud whimper cut you off.
Simon shushed you gently, still keeping the same pace as he drove you higher.
"I know, I know. Just feel it. Just let go okay? Let go for me, you can do that. Cum for me, just for me," he murmured against you.
It sent you over an unfamiliar peak, your eyes shutting tight and your cunt spasming around his thick fingers.
The feeling was unlike anything else. A sweet release of tension that faded into deliciously pulsing waves as he drew out everything you had.
Your body sagged back against his, as he withdrew his fingers from you.
They came up to his mouth, and you made a quiet sound of surprise as you heard him stick them in.
"Oh god, tastes so damn good," he muttered, licking them clean.
You shuddered again, too spent to even register what was happening.
Simon wrapped his strong arms around you, pushing your hair from your face and kissing your cheek.
"You were incredible, you know that? Absolutely perfect," he whispered against you.
It wasn't what you were expecting to learn when you decided to visit him in Detroit. But sitting there, in his lap as he soothed you, you couldn't have asked for a better teacher.
What about a smut where the reader is Connor’s date to a charity event and girlfriend, but she just looks so good in her tight, black, formal dress that he just can’t keep his hands to himself and pulls her into an empty back hallway. Maybe he pushes her dress up, crouches, and eats her out right there??? Maybe he cums in his pants?? Then they’d have to leave so no one notices the stain… maybe they continue as soon as they get back to his apartment??
here it is!!!!
another bedsy fic because this is extremely fun, i love the idea of needy men being impatient asf
summary: it was all star weekend, and connor brought you as his plus one. seeing you in your dress left him unraveled, leading to him needing to take you both in public, and in private.
content/warnings: 18+ mdni!!!!! smut, oral sex (f!receiving), fingering, semi-public sex, cumming in pants, p in v, praise, swearing, needy connor, nhl all star weekend, sweet ending
wc: 3k
a/n: something about men cumming their pants jus rlly gets me
Connor was already sweating. The nerves were getting to him, soaking his dress shirt slightly under his arms and his back. He'd spent all damn morning ironing this shirt, calling his mom to complain and ask 'How could it possibly be this complicated? It's just one shirt.'
But his tumbling, anxious thoughts vanished. It should've been its own award tonight, how quickly Connor's brain could empty of anything else, the second he laid eyes on you.
Holy.
Shit.
Your walk into the hall was casual, the slight click of your heels, a number of polite waves at acquaintances.
Connor saw absolutely none of that.
All he saw was the dress, clinging and hugging on curves he'd always be desperate to have at least one hand on. Your hips accentuating the shimmer of the fabric under the soft lighting.
You weren't just beautiful.
You were fucking gorgeous.
Truly a vision, and you were coming straight toward him.
For a split second, he panicked. He was staring, and you were walking over to him, fixing him with those eyes that made his knees weak. His mind urged him to look away, to stop being so damn weird about it.
Then, it seemed that his mind had finally caught back up. Right. He was your boyfriend. He was allowed to stare. That was kind of his job. At least part of it.
And thank god for that.
He met you at the last few feet, willing his legs to move and not stumble. He was a hockey player for god's sake, his legs were kind of the key part of the job.
"Hi baby," you smiled, your hair catching the soft light as it cascaded down to your shoulders.
And that was it, he was done for.
"Hey babygirl," he said, voice coming out lower and rougher than he intended.
You raised your brows, a smirk pulling at the corner of your mouth. Connor only called you that when he was, 1. drunk, 2. flustered, or 3. horny.
You figured it was a combination of the latter two.
A tinge of pink colored his cheeks. He hadn't meant to be so obvious about his problem. Aka, you. In that dress. Right here.
Aka, his painfully hard erection he popped, the second he laid eyes on you.
"Sorry," he said with a wince, covering it with a smile, "just... you look gorgeous tonight. I love the dress. Well... I love you in the dress."
You giggled. The sound was musical to him, always had been. On your first date, he knew he was about to be whipped like no other as soon as you laughed like that.
"Well thank you. You look pretty handsome yourself, Bedsy."
Your tone was light, a slight glint of mischief in your eye as you slid your arm under his. He shook his head, his smile grew on his face. You'd tease him with that, especially when he was being extra lovey on you.
"All right, all right. Come on, the team's sitting just over here," he spoke as he led you along the outskirts of the venue. He was impressed with himself, at how he'd been able to hide it from you.
Everything seemed to be basked in a bright gold, the light shining softly from the overheads. The entire place was decorated for stars, as was fitting for the name.
Connor led you over to the table where the Blackhawks were seated, pulling your chair out next to his. He was seated between you and Nick, a spot where he could see the stage and still keep an eye on you as well.
The evening progressed, speakers taking the stage, dinner being served quietly.
Connor was almost smug. He'd been able to hide his problem so easily from you, which didn't happen super often. He ate peacefully, watching you as you took a sip of water.
Then, when he felt your hand on his thigh, he knew he had made a terrible mistake.
"I saw that, you know," you whispered to him, in a tone only he could hear.
Connor tried to hide the cringe in his body as he tried to keep still under your grasp.
So it had been that obvious. You were just... better at this game. He kicked himself internally for ever thinking he could be better than you at knowing his own body language.
"Couldn't... couldn't help it," he managed to force out, his voice a low scrape against his throat.
He nearly choked on his sip of water as he felt your hand drift higher, fingers barely brushing against his fly under the tablecloth.
You looked perfectly casual, eating and talking occasionally with his teammates. All while you were slowly torturing him under the table.
Your fingers pressed harder, nearly palming him through his dress pants, before he stood up abruptly.
"I'll be back," he said in a rush, all eyes at the table on him.
Connor was gone before anyone could ask a single question.
His footsteps echoed down the hallway as he tried to control his breathing. Hadn't someone said the bathroom was this way? Fuck, he needed to calm down.
So much for that idea.
He heard the distinct click of your heels, the heels he'd help you pick out that one day you went shopping together.
Part of him was regretting buying such beautifully devastating things for you to drive him insane with.
"Feeling okay baby?" your voice came from behind him, a mix of concern and question in your voice.
Connor rubbed his forehead before turning to you.
It devastated him all over again.
You, standing there. A slight smirk on your face, still softened with a slight concern at his state.
He let out a long, slow breath. He couldn't take this. It felt like his cock was going to literally pop the seams of his dress pants.
Connor's head shook as he ran his eyes over your form.
"Feeling okay?" he rasped, "No. I am not feeling okay."
You giggled softly, stepping closer to him.
"What's wrong Connie? Can't handle a little black dress?" you teased.
Then he snapped.
His hands were on you, pressing you against the wall of the empty hallway. His mouth pressed against yours in a kiss that was hungry and desperate, one hand sliding into your hair to tilt your head up to him.
"I can't take this," he said against your mouth, his hips pressing into you, "I can't- I can't wait until this shit is over. I need you now."
Before you could even try and protest, about the public space, a work event no less, he was on his knees.
Strong hands pushed your dress up with a deliberate swiftness, and he looked up at you hungrily as his hands gripped your thighs.
"Gonna be quiet?" he rumbled lowly, pulling your panties to the side as he waited for you to answer.
Your hand came to cover your mouth, because you knew you couldn't just be quiet. Not with the way that Connor's skilled mouth always made you scream.
It was seemingly good enough for him, because he dove straight in.
Connor was always hungry for you, it wasn't something he tried to hide. He'd be fine dropping to his knees anywhere, anytime, if you'd let him.
But you always had to say something about his "reputation" or "career" or some other lame, responsible shit.
Connor didn't give a damn. The media could catch him here, nose deep in his girlfriend's pussy, and he wouldn't even apologize. Why would he? There was nothing he was sorry for.
His tongue pressed against you, dragging from your clit all the way to the end of your slit, groaning as he tasted you.
His favorite taste, his favorite place to be.
He was insistent, hungry, pulling your clit into his mouth and flicking his tongue over it in a pattern he knew drove you crazy.
His smirk was evident as you gasped against your hand, doing your best to muffle it.
The pants he was wearing were struggling to hide the evidence of your effect on him. His cock was rock hard, pressing against the fabric and rubbing painfully against it each time he shifted.
He didn't notice any of that. All he could focus on was the way you were clenching on his tongue, pressing your hips closer to his face.
He gladly accepted the invitation, pressing his mouth harder against you, fucking his tongue in to you as he his nosed bumped your clit.
Your hand didn't do a great job at hiding your moan as he slid two of his fingers into you, pressing in expertly to a spot he was proud to have claimed a thousand times before.
His tongue laved over your clit, flicking and sucking at it as his fingers curled inside you. Connor loved the way you shook around his fingers, your walls fluttering desperately under his attention.
As he pressed deeper, he drew a harder whine from you.
The sound alone made his cock jump, twitching hard against the fabric.
It felt so good, the pressure of his pants giving him just enough friction to draw pleasure from.
He was lost in it, in the need to make you cum for him to taste, and the way he was now grinding against his own pants.
Connor didn't even realize what had happened, and wasn't able to catch it in time.
You had been moaning so sweetly, Connor pulling your release from you with his practiced, rhythmic movements. As soon as it hit, he pulled his fingers from you, sealing his mouth over you so he could drink up any release you gave him.
He didn't realize, until he shifted again, feeling a wetness that hadn't been there before.
Oh god. He just came. In his pants. Completely untpuched.
Connor's cheeks lit on fire, as he tried to bury his embarrassment between your legs, not wanting to move from the spot he was in.
He'd stay here forever. Tasting you, hearing you say his name, not having to admit to you that he'd just spilled in his pants at the simple taste of your cum.
Unfortunately for him, you started to push his head away.
He tried to resist, but you were firm about it, chiding him with a soft call of his name.
Reluctantly, he sat back on his heels, head hanging and cheeks burning.
"Connor? Is everything okay? Did I do something-" you started, but Connor shook his head quickly.
He looked up at you, leaning back enough for your eyes to drop to his crotch.
Where a painfully obvious wet spot was blooming across the tight fabric of his suit pants.
"Oh Connie," you whispered, "you... really? From that?" your voice wasn't necessarily teasing, but more disbelieving.
Great, you were going to think he was some kind of loser now. Creaming in his pants just from eating you out.
He nodded slowly, trying to gauge your reaction.
Connor's anxiety melted away when he saw your lips curl into a smirk.
"Well, you can't go walking around like that, huh? I guess..." you thought for a moment, "I guess I'll go tell everyone you got sick."
It was literally a lifeline thrown, a salvation Connor couldn't have been grateful enough for.
"Thank fuck," he groaned, eyes closing, "We need to get out of here."
His eyes snapped open as he processed your next words.
"Agreed. I think we have unfinished business to take care of at the hotel," you said lowly with that smirk still on your face.
Connor felt his heart jump in his chest. Okay. So you weren't weirded out, you were turned on.
He'd take that as a win.
You held out a hand, letting him pull himself from the floor.
As you made your way to the end of the hallway, he gently turned you to face him.
"Okay, I'll go get the car and come to the front. You... you'll tell everyone I got sick?" he asked hopefully.
You nodded, letting go of his hand and turning towards where the dining hall was.
It was a short walk, as you made your way back to the Blackhawks table. All eyes turned to you as you gave a slight, apologetic smile.
"Hey guys, so sorry. Connor got sick and I have to take him back to the hotel, I hope everyone can understand," you said, in your calmest voice.
Heads nodded, and everyone told you to wish him the best and to take care of him as you walked away.
Oh you'd take care of him. Just probably not in the way they'd meant.
The car was idling at the curb when you walked into the chilly night.
As you slipped in, Connor was already ready to pull away from the building.
The car ride was quiet, charged with an anticipation and a lingering desire.
When you pulled up to the hotel, Connor was at your door in an instant, taking your hand to help you out.
The elevator ride seemed longer tonight, the sound of Connor's foot tapping rhythmically against the metal floor.
When the doors slid open, Connor tugged you gently down the hall to his room.
His hands fumbled with the key card before finally swiping it and pushing the door open.
The door hadn't even fully closed when he'd picked you up and held you against the wall.
Connor kissed you roughly, pouring out all of his frustrations of the night into it, making you whine against him as his hands traveled down your dress.
"You know how fucking crazy this thing has been driving me all damn night?" he growled between kisses, tugging at the zipper at your back.
You just moaned in response, trying to grab at his belt.
Once he'd pulled down your zipper, he set you back down, letting the dress fall away.
He let out a ragged breath, eyes sweeping over you hungrily. He put his hands on your hips, guiding you backwards to the hotel bed.
Connor spun you around gently, pressing you flat against the white sheets, tugging down your panties in one rough motion.
His breath was hot against you as he pressed kisses over your shoulder blade. The clink of his belt being undone hastily was the only sound in the quiet of the room, echoing as it dropped heavily to the floor.
He popped open the button, zipped down the fly. He pushed his stained pants down with his soiled boxers just enough to free himself.
You gasped softly as he pressed against you, his erection a heavy weight on the curve of your ass.
"You're so fucking sexy, baby," Connor said as he gripped himself, aligning at your entrance from behind, "Couldn't focus on anything else besides you in that damn dress."
His groan was long and unrestrained as he sunk into you, burying himself to the hilt in a single thrust.
It knocked the breath from you, making your hands curl in the sheets below you.
Connor wasted no time in making his rhythm quick and hard, pounding you into the hard mattress under you.
He grunted each time his hips slapped against your ass, his eyes tracking each time it bounced against his cock.
The sounds were obscene in the small hotel room, reverberating against the walls as he slammed into you over and over.
Your loud moans were muffled slightly into the sheets, your legs shaking as you tried to stay standing under his punishing movements.
Connor held your hips in a bruising grip, pulling you back against him as he delved deep into you each time he brought his hips forward.
One hand slid around you, finding your clit with unerring accuracy and pressing rough circles on it.
"Cum on my cock baby," he groaned, his fingers rubbing quicker against you, "Show me how much you love when I fuck you like this."
You couldn't help it, with his fingers moving so easily on you, his cock buried so deep and his breathy whispers warming the back of your neck.
With a harsh cry suppressed in to the bed below, you spasmed against his cock still slamming into you, eyes nearly rolling back.
He drew every last wave from you, until you were drooling onto the sheets and whimpering his name.
Then, he slammed home one more time, his hips flush against yours as he came. His head dropping to your shoulder blade as his cock throbbed inside you, filling you up with his warm cum deep inside.
You both took a second to catch your collective breaths, Connor's cock still twitching gently inside you as he came down.
"This is why I can't buy you things you make look so beautiful," he breathed against your back.
You giggled breathily, "Don't you mean things that look beautiful."
He gave a slight shake of his head.
"No," he said firmly, "I mean things that look beautiful, because you make them like that. Anything on you is gorgeous. But it's you that makes it that way, not the clothes," his voice whispered against your skin, landing much softer in the aftermath of his passionate aggression.
Your breath hitched gently, and he slid his arms around you.
"You're the most beautiful girl in the world. The clothes just... bring it out more," he said, as he gently slid pulled out of you with a shuddering sigh.
Connor carried you to the hotel bathroom, setting you delicately on the counter. He cleaned the two of you up, pressing soft kisses along your body as he told you how much he loved you, and how you were the only thing in the world to him.
You slept tangled together that night. His hands tracing lazy patterns across your spine as he whispered soft compliments into your hair, until his breathing deepened and he fell asleep.
Your own breathing evened, your final thoughts before drifting off, were about him.
How a little black dress was just that to you. A dress, another piece of beautiful clothing you loved.
But to Connor, it wasn't the dress. It was you, that made anything beautiful. He wouldn't deny that he loved seeing you dressed up, but that wasn't the point.
The point was, little black dress or not, Connor loved every inch of you.
Hey saw that you earlier said that you would write something for Simon Edvinsson with like a size kink or size difference. And I need😩😩 He is so big, like omg his hands, his thighs…. and yk. Please, please please write something like that. I adoreeee your writing, especially when you write for Simon. (Side note: I am so impressed, like you just started posting and it is incredible!!)💝💝
thank you!!! it means so much that you love my writing <33
here it is!!
definitely wayyy more material to work with for simon and size kink stuff, but i also just throw it in anywhere in his fics. because like how can i not, bro is a giant.
thank you so much for the request and i hope you like it!!
summary: simon was a big guy, that much was plainly obvious. but just how big was he under the belt? that was for him to know, and you to find out, in a way that revealed some things he wasn't prepared for.
content/warnings: 18+ mdni!!!!! smut, SIZE KINK!, praise, dirty-talk, fingering, p in v, swearing, etc
wc: 2k
a/n: barely edited, as usual! there may be a simon thigh riding fic in your future 🔮
Being smaller than Simon Edvinsson isn't hard.
He's 6'6 (1.98m). 222 pounds (101 kg). And most of that is probably pure muscle.
Did someone say yum?
Yeah. You did. And that's how you got here.
Laying under your giant boyfriend, naked, and watching him try and fit his cock in you.
It was no secret that Simon was... well endowed.
You'd actually heard once that the other guys hated changing with him, because it just pissed them off. Ouch, there go their male egos.
Simon didn't really know, until he started noticing things throughout his life.
Things like...
The fact that no one else got their pants tailored to accommodate for the size of their thighs and... groin area. To allow for him to even fit in any kind of pants, he'd needed extra room put in those areas. It wasn't something he went around proclaiming, but he didn't know he was the only one who needed that.
Or when he'd had sex the first time, and it was not as easy as it looked in those shitty videos he used to watch.
But of course, you'd noticed it. How could you not?
The way he just walked like it was heavy.
His gray sweatpants showing of the long line of him so casually.
The way he'd step out of the bathroom, just a towel around his waist, the seam just inches away from exposing him.
How inviting it felt when you'd be sleeping together, and it pressed against your ass so firmly.
Or the one time you'd walked in on him in just his compression shorts and your mouth basically watered.
So, for Simon, when he was thinking about sex with you, he felt he was pretty prepared to do it. To ease you into it, make it just fine.
What he didn't account for though, was the fact that you were going to be so. damn. tight
When he was getting ready to finally have sex with you, he planned to just start with his hands. Warm you up before he had to explain the whole... big thing.
You were both in his bed, your clothes already spread across the floor. He was left in just his boxers, which he pushed down to his thighs swiftly.
And you finally got to see him.
You expected him to be big, you'd seen the evidence everywhere. But not that big.
His cock slapped heavily to his stomach when he pushed down his boxers, the tip already leaking.
He was long and thick, veins running up the underside of him. His tip was flushed a deep red as a bead of precum ran down it. You wanted to just stick your tongue out and clean it right off.
His hand wrapped around it made it look like a normal size, but you knew that if you tried to put yours around it, your fingers wouldn't meet.
He noticed you staring, and his cheeks flushed slightly.
"I know it... looks like a lot, but I promise we'll go slow. And we'll... get you ready first, okay?" he said, always the sweetheart.
But when he was braced between your thighs, he was distraught to find that you had trouble just accommodating two of his fingers.
This was not going to be as easy as he thought.
He tried his best, scissoring his fingers in an attempt to prep you before he tried anything else. He curled and dragged his fingers in you, and pulled them out when he felt somewhat satisfied.
He put both hands by your head, looking down at you as his cock nudged against your entrance. you could feel how broad and hot he was, gently pressing your folds apart.
"You ready?" Simon asked softly, making sure you were on board before he tried to push in.
You nodded, and put your arms around his neck.
So he let his hips draw forward, his brow furrowing as he tried to breach your entrance as delicately as he could. When he finally pressed past the initial resistance, the head of his cock slipped in. The pressure was immense, his cock desperately trying to make space inside your incredibly tight walls.
Another thing Simon didn't account for, was how much he was going to fucking like it. Seeing your cunt struggle to adjust to him, watching his cock bully it's way into you. His eyes wide and focused on the space between your bodies where he was slowly trying to push inch after inch into you.
God, he was so fucked.
"You're... so, so tight," he panted out softly, eyes shutting as he tried desperately to push the thoughts away that made him harder.
"No," you breath lowly, "you're so big," you say, nails biting into his biceps for emphasis as he sinks a little deeper.
It's almost painful, for both of you. His cock trying to force through your tightness, the stretch making your stomach tighten.
And for him, your cunt seeming to choke his cock, resisting him but also sucking him in at the same time.
But at the same time, it was unbearably sexy. The exquisite stretch and the feeling of a fullness you'd never experienced before. It was all you could do to not roll your eyes back and beg him to pound you until he broke you open.
"I think- I think you have to, relax. Breathe," he looked at you, eyes pleading for you to help him out here. Yet, you saw the way his eyes were bright with a simmering heat that he couldn't control.
His hips twitched as you clenched on his already suffocating cock, and he choked on a loud moan.
"You like this too, don't you?" you whispered.
His cheeks flushed, and his eyes dropped to where you were now halfway joined, trying to regain his composure.
Wrong place to look if that's what he was going for.
It made it infinitely worse. Seeing how you were splayed out under him, eyes lidded with a mirror of his dark desire.
His attempts at reining it in snapped. He grit his teeth, squeezed his eyes shut. But he couldn't stop the low rumble in his throat.
He looked up at you, eyes darkening by the second.
"Fuck," he let out a long breath, "you like that? How my cock can't even fucking fit in you?"
He leaned back slightly on his knees, moving his hands from the mattress to rest on your inner thighs.
"I want you to feel all of me. I know you can take it," he said lowly as he pushed your thighs open wider, spreading you open further for him.
You threw your head back as he pushed in further, whining at the seemingly endless length of him. God, how much was left?
As if he heard your thoughts, he groaned.
"You're taking it so damn good. This little cunt wants to be stuffed full of me doesn't it? Just a little more, gonna bury myself so far into you," his voice was a low rasp, strained from the effort of keeping himself from slamming in the last few inches.
When he had finally sunk in the last bit, you both let out a choked gasp.
His first thrusts were long, experimental, and slow. As he tried to adjust you both to the immense size difference that was a very present physical reality.
He really, really tried to control himself. To keep it deep, slow, even. But with the way your cunt was just dragging him back in, tightening so deliciously around his cock, he literally couldn't do it.
"Your pussy is so good, squeezing me so damn tight," he gritted out as his pace increased.
Soon enough, his hips were slapping against yours, stinging each time he smacked in to you. His thighs keeping you open with each movement.
Those big, muscular thighs that you couldn't help but stare at as the muscles pulled and released with each thrust.
It felt like he was splitting you open, his thick length forcing itself as deep as it could reach. His veins dragged against your walls, adding another layer of sensation in the already over stimulating feelings.
His cock kept twitching, as if it was trying to make more room inside you, pushing hard against your walls. His tip was rubbing so deep inside, he was probably nudging at your cervix, continually brushing at your sensitive spot.
Your nails were dug deep into his shoulders, your mouth open while babbling whines and moans fell from it.
"Si- so good- cock feels s'good inside me- like- like you're in my stomach," you said between his harsh thrusts, your pussy clenching down as the head of him hit hard on that spot.
You moaned loudly, back arching to get that angle again, to feel the way his cock hit deep in you.
"Right there?" he said as he thrusted up into it, drawing another loud whine from you.
It seemed to turn his thrusts even more savage, his hips tilting to keep slamming into that spongy spot that pulled those sweet sounds from you.
Simon's head was still tilted to watch where his dick kept disappearing in to you, seemingly fascinated by the way your small hole was stretched out around him. A near continuous groan emanated from his throat as he pounded into you.
His thighs were soaked in your combined fluids, the mess covering you and the sheets below. Your cunt started to squelch loudly as he kept his pace, pushing you fast into your impending orgasm.
Simon wasn't far behind. The visual of himself inside you, and your encouraging whines and the vice grip you had on him, it wasn't going to let him last much longer.
One hand left your thigh, coming to swirl around your clit with ease as he dragged it first through your leaking juices.
You nearly screamed as the combined feeling threw you right over, as your walls fluttered violently against him.
After a few final shuddering thrusts, Simon came with a drawn out moan, shooting his cum deep into you. Pulse after pulse, flooding your cunt with his hot release. He wouldn't pull out, instead opting to grind his hips against yours while he rode out the final waves.
Under him, your eyes were unfocused, mouth still agape and whining softly. Your orgasm had left you nearly speechless, and his grinding hips weren't helping. You could feel the heat of his cum inside you, a fullness resting so far inside you, you almost wondered how it was even possible.
You only managed to say, "H-holy... shit..."
Simon let out a breath that could've been a laugh if he wasn't still trying to catch up with his lungs.
"Yeah... holy shit," he panted softly, still keeping his hips flushed with yours as he slowly lowered to his forearms.
His lips pressed against your cheek, and he whispered in your ear.
"Can we stay just like this? I don't want to move, you're so warm and it feels so good," his breath was warm against your ear as he spoke, accentuating with a small roll of his hips.
You hummed softly, your nails unlatching from his shoulders, arms coming to drape around his neck again.
"Only if you promise you won't crush me," you teased softly.
Simon smiled as he leaned on to his side and pulled you tight to his chest. His cock still nestled in your tight heat.
He kissed your temple, his head propped up on his hand as he pulled back to look at you.
You two slept like that, his length still buried in you, chest pressed together.
When you woke up, it was still dark. You stirred, confused as to why you'd woken up so late.
Then you felt it, Simon rutting slowly into you. His hips moving softly against yours, his cock fully hard again.
"Sorry älslking, you felt too good... had to... had to have you again," he whispered, his dick pressing insistently inside you.
You knew after that, he was going to want you all the time.
Were you going to be any different?
Of course not.
You were just as obsessed with your boyfriend and his tailored pants. The pants that kept his little secret safe between just the two of you, with the help of some extra fabric and thread.
hi!! i finally came up with another request idea with maybe too much detail but okay simon x best friend and they’re in a hot tub together maybe smoking weed just being vulnerable and they’re way too close and maybe her hands get wet and so she asks him to shot gun the smoke into her mouth and tensions rise and they end up hooking up in the hot tub (or tbh he gives off the kind of energy that he’d give a girl head and no expect anything in return so maybe that) also so excited to read the one where he beats up brady ahhh
okay so a few things - first, here it is!
simon would 1000% be down to just give head and not expect a thing back, but unfortunately i am too much of a lovergirl to do friends with benefits ... he is just not a fwb type
also im so sorry if this is like, inaccurate ive never smoked weed b4 D: #embarrassing
i definitely tried my best to make you proud anon, your prior request was like my absolute fav!!!!
summary: as simon's best friend, you always came to team parties with him. this one was no different. except that you two tried smoking together, and suddenly years worth of walls came crumbling down between you.
content/warnings: 18+ mdni!!!!! smut, oral sex (f!receiving), praise, dirty-talk, semi-public sex ish, smoking weed, shotgunning smoke, best friends that actually are in love, slight what-are-we ending
wc: 2.8k
a/n: it's a crazy moment in life when you're researching weed smoking for a fanfic because you've never done it before
It was April in Detroit. A confusing time for the weather, when it cannot decide whether it should transition from winter to spring yet.
That week, it was a bit chillier, but still pleasant enough for a party.
The Red Wings were celebrating the end of the season, regardless of how it had ended game-wise.
Dylan Larkin was typically the one to host parties, always choosing his lake house as the venue.
No one minded. No clean up for them, and not to mention the lake was beautiful. Unswimmable in April, but no less appealing.
The parties were always lively, drawing in all the team members and their significant others to drink, dance, and let loose for the duration.
Spouses or... best friends. In Simon Edvinsson's case.
Behind his back, the guys would make jokes about the fact that he never brought a girlfriend to the parties. Just a girl who was a friend. Allegedly.
Simon had brought you every year since you'd become friends, never wanting to experience the fun without you. Half the fun was watching you enjoy it anyhow. Though he'd never actually say that.
Being Simon's best friend was fun. You got season tickets, got to wear his jersey, hang out with him after games, befriend the WAGS, and see him during the offseason.
That really made it sound like you're dating, didn't it?
Well you're not.
Even if you'd kind of been in love with him since the day he'd introduced himself by spilling half his drink down your shirt and ended up giving you his.
That was how best friendships started. Right?
Well, it was how yours did.
So the party was a no-brainer. You were a fixture at the events, just like anyone else's girlfriend. Or... girl. friend.
The party started off normal enough. Drinks poured with heavy hands, music pumping, and loud stories about the prior season being shouted through the living room.
Simon had told you to wear a bathing suit under your clothes, and when you tried to protest, it's literally April and it's freezing, he just said to trust him.
So of course, you showed up with a bikini tie peeking out of your shirt collar.
That was when Dylan loudly informed you, he'd installed a hot tub this winter, so it would be ready by the season's end.
Talk about score, you thought.
The evening wind was chilly when you stepped on to the patio, seeing the wooden deck stairs that led to the platform containing the hot tub. The deck surrounded it in a ring of wood, making it look like it was in ground.
The hot tub was lit softly by its inner lights, making it glow in the darkness of the calm lakeside night.
You climbed up the steps, standing on the deck and dipping your foot in the water. Your sigh was audible as you pulled off your shirt and shorts, slipping into the water.
Simon wasn't far behind, chatting loudly with Lucas and Mo as they came out to join you.
They all pulled off their shirts, sliding heavily into the water. You definitely didn't take an extra second to look at Simon's chest. That would be crazy.
Anyways.
Mo reached for the bag he'd dropped near his shirt, producing a few joints he'd rolled before coming to the Larkin's. He passed one to Lucas, flicking a lighter under it as they chatted about hockey.
You looked at Simon, who was closer to you now, and he shrugged.
You tilted your head to the two slightly, a questioning brow raised in Simon's direction. Should we?, your expression said.
Simon read your look, and gave one back with a small glint in his eye. Why not?, his seemed to say back.
You two had that down. The silent communication with slight movements and expression changes. It was your own version of sign language, though it only existed in head tilts, eyebrow raises, and eye movements.
You shrugged then, agreeing with him.
So Lucas started, as the four of you relaxed.
"You excited for off season, Eddy?" Lucas said as he slowly exhaled and passed the smoke off to Mo.
Simon nodded, moving minutely closer to you.
"Yeah, it should be a good time. Cat's already on one about everyone going golfing with him so he can prove he's 'the best,'" Simon said with a chuckle, emphasizing with air quotes.
Mo laughed, gesturing to Simon with the joint.
"What do you think, big guy? You want to try?"
Simon had never smoked weed before, and neither had you. At that point though, if you wanted to try it, he would too.
So he took it, breathing in and pulling it away with a small cough.
Lucas and Mo shared a slight giggle.
"Aw Simon, can't handle a little joint, man?" Lucas teased, watching as Simon passed it off to you with another small cough.
You giggled too, hoping you wouldn't have as hard of a time as he had.
You inhaled, and tried your best. However, despite your best efforts, you coughed a little too.
Of course, Simon laughed as you, and you smacked his shoulder.
"Oh shut up, you're so annoying," you huffed, but he knew it was all affectionate.
Lucas and Mo watched with amused faces, sharing a knowing glance.
Once the two of them had hit it again, Mo passed it to Simon before pulling himself on to the deck.
Lucas followed suit saying, "Well, you guys can keep that. We promised we'd share one with Talbs while he plays pool. Or... tries," he laughed as they made their way down the deck stairs.
And just like that, the glass sliding door shut behind them, and you and Simon were alone.
Which, was usually no problem. You'd spent hours and hours alone together.
But now you were here. Alone. In a hot tub. With a joint between you.
Simon tried hitting it again, his eyes watering slightly at the corners.
You, forgetting that burning things usually don't mix with wet things, accidentally let your arms drift under the water.
You noticed as soon as he tried to hand it to you.
You groaned softly, taking your soaking hands from the water.
"Simon," you groaned, "my hands are all wet now. I can't take it."
He snorted softly as he watched you, the annoyed furrow in your brow.
You thought for a moment. Maybe you'd seen it in a movie? A tiktok? Who knew.
"I've seen like... people blow smoke into people's mouths so they can inhale it," you said, gauging his reaction, "What if you just like, blow it in my face or something."
Simon raised a brow, a smirk tugging the corner of his mouth.
"You want me, to blow smoke in your face?" he said teasingly, "You know how weird that sounds right?"
You huffed, annoyed and watching the joint burn down uselessly.
"Simme!" you whined.
God that whine. That whine you'd do just for him, and it always made him rock fucking hard. Sometimes enough that he'd have to get the hell away from you before he just let his urges win and take you right there. Make you whine louder for a different reason.
He took a deep breath. Jesus christ, control yourself, he thought.
But he couldn't. His brain was foggy, your big eyes were blinking so innocently at him as you giggled.
He knew he shouldn't have given in, but he was powerless against you.
"Fine, but only because you'll complain otherwise," he said.
He inhaled, holding it, and came dangerously close to pressing his lips on yours.
The sight of your parted pink lips, as you watched his eyes while he exhaled, it nearly broke him. Seeing you inhale straight from him. Yeah, if he wasn't aching before, he was in fucking pain now.
He tried to hide it, to lean away.
But it seemed like you just kept leaning closer.
Your faces were close. Too close.
He could feel the warmth of your breath on his, the earthy smell seeming to intoxicate him further.
He tried to blame it on the weed. The nearly insignificant amount he'd had. He tried, and failed, to rationalize it.
Because before he knew it, he leaned in, put a hand on your waist, and crashed his lips to yours.
Maybe it was the fact that the weed softened out your combined anxieties, your fear of rejection with one another. Maybe it was the fact that you thought his muscles covered in droplets of hot water made him irresistible, and he thought that you in that bathing suit was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen.
Either way, there was no going back now.
It wasn't delicate or sweet. It was all teeth and tongue and moans drawn from you as his hand stroked your waist.
You squeaked as his strong arms pulled you securely into his lap, keeping your hips flush down with his.
He groaned softly into the kiss, as he pressed you against the bulge clearly noticeable through his swim shorts.
Simon couldn't tell if it was the weed or that fact that he'd been in love with you for years, but he swore it was the best kiss he's ever had. He felt like he never wanted to let go, wanted to keep your warmth in his lap forever as he worshipped the lips he'd dreamed about for so long.
His focus fractured, once you'd started grinding down on his barely restrained erection.
The heat of the water pressed in between the heat of your bodies, easing the slide of the fabrics separating you.
The water sloshed as he helped your hips move, your muffled moans swallowed by the insistence of his tongue in your mouth.
Simon felt like his body was on fire. He was sweating. Every sensation from you, to the water, to his thoughts, were all just a burning heat. He panted softly, muscles straining as he tried to keep up with it all.
As soon as you pulled away and said his name in a breathy, desperate whisper, he couldn't take it anymore.
He growled lowly, as he easily lifted you from the water and set you on the wooden deck surrounding the tub. He turned, knelt on the indented seat and held your thighs in his large hands.
"Please," he gasped, catching his breath as best he could, "please let me touch you."
Your breathing was still ragged, your eyes wide as you adjusted to the sudden position change.
Seeing him like that; blonde hair plastered back, chest rising and falling quickly, eyes wide and pleading. How could you have possibly said no?
The thing is, you didn't even want to say no.
Simon had been in your life for a few years, and every year your need for him got worse. The way he'd laugh at your jokes, his blue eyes that seemed to focus on you differently than anyone else. It made you feel special, like you were the only person in the room.
So you nodded frantically, words coming out in a rushed gasp.
"Yes. Please, Simon," was all you said.
It looked like you told him he'd won the lottery. His eyes lit up, as he searched your face.
He needed to know it was real. That it wasn't just... the excitement of the party, the bit of residual high still in your bodies.
"Tell me..." he started, his breathing catching as his anxiety tipped in for a second, "Tell me you want this like I do, like I always have," he managed to whisper.
Now it was your turn for shock.
"Are you serious?" you choked out, cheeks reddening further under the heat of his gaze.
He responded simply, "Dead serious."
It was like time froze in that second. Your eyes locked on each other in a dual disbelief.
"Since the day I met you," you whispered.
Simon didn't say anything else. His hands roughly grabbed the side of your bikini bottoms, pulling them to the side as he wrapped a hand around your waist, holding the fabric back with his thumb.
His mouth was on you in a second. No hesitation as he surged forward.
His tongue was eager, his lips pressed hard against you. His moan was loud, unabashed as his eyes threatened to roll back.
"Holy fuck," were the only muffled words he got out as he refused to pull back from you.
Your legs were already shaking. His mouth was so hot and wet against you, devouring you like this was the only chance he'd ever get.
It was sloppy, how his tongue ran over your slit and spread his saliva to mix with your fluids. Obviously, he didn't care at all, seeming to delight in the fact that his face was buried in your cunt.
It was exactly where Simon wanted to be. He didn't care that his cock was so hard it hurt, didn't care if he'd never get to feel these velvety walls enveloping his dick. He was already stunned at that fact that he got permission to taste you, to be nose deep in his new favorite thing.
Yeah, he was praying you'd never make him move.
His tongue delved in and out of you, lapping greedily at anything he could reach. His groans and almost-whines were swallowed by the hot reality of your folds. His mouth came to seal over your clit, sucking harshly as he lost himself in the need to claim every inch of you.
You slid a hand into his wet hair, drawing a sharp groan from him as you tugged.
"Simon- jesus christ," you panted, legs now fully trembling, "You can go slower you know."
All he did was give a single, harsher suck on your clit, making you yelp softly. He shook his head as best he could while remaining buried in you.
You felt yourself approaching a peak, a hot insistent knot tightening in your stomach. He was about to make you cum, with just his mouth.
It was Simon's secondary goal, making you cum. His first, was to prove exactly how badly he's been wanting this. And a selfish third? Was the fact that he was now obsessed with the feel and taste of your cunt on his tongue.
He was going to have a hard time pulling away, and he realized he didn't want to as soon as he felt you clench around his tongue.
But he relented, not wanting to tease you too long. Because he had to admit, he wanted to taste your release.
He whined as your gripped tightened, almost painfully, in his hair. Though his attention on your pussy never wavered.
Your legs shook violently, your eyes closed tight against the overwhelming feeling of him giving you an orgasm with just his tongue.
"S-Simon- I'm- fuck- gonna cum-," you managed to stutter out.
He gave an encouraging moan, trying to keep his pace under control in his excitement.
Your muscles tensed before relaxing in a final push that snapped the knot in you, deep waves of pleasure rolling through your body.
You felt amazing, that being probably the best orgasm you'd ever had. But it almost seemed like Simon liked it more.
If he was needy before, it was nothing compared to now. His hand tightened hard on your thigh, dragging you as close as you could press against his mouth.
Little groans fell from his lips as his tongue tasted your release. He lapped messily at you, desperate to keep every last bit of your release securely in his mouth.
Finally, when you where whimpering and telling him it was too much, he reluctantly pulled back. But only far enough to rest his head on your inner thigh, catching his breath as you came down.
"You are... the most delicious thing I've ever tasted in my life," he said, pressing a soft, open mouthed kiss to your thigh.
Everything seemed to fade back in to reality. The fact that your best friend's head was between your legs, that he was still achingly aroused, and that you'd just broken every rule in the friendship book.
But right now, neither of you could give any kind of damn about that.
You scooted forward, his hands pulling you back down gently into his lap.
You spent the next few minutes making out slowly, languidly. Exploring each other with less frantic energy than you had before.
Your hips started their slow grind on him once more, and the sounds he made came from deep within his chest.
"What do you say we- continue this upstairs?" you breathed against his lips, punctuating it with a more firm roll of your hips.
Who was he to argue? Simon's mouth ticked into a smirk as he stood in the hot tub, water streaming off him with you still held securely in his grasp. Your legs wrapped around his strong torso.
"Think you can be quiet enough to not wake up my whole team?" he said, nipping at your ear as he carefully stepped out of the water and down the stairs, toward the sliding glass door.
You'd talk about it. You would. But... tomorrow. Tomorrow, when neither you two, nor the stakes, were as high as last night.
summary: spending time in sweden with lucas was exciting, especially meeting his family. until lucas decided he wanted more than just a good night's sleep on his childhood twin mattress.
content/warnings: 18+ mdni!!!!! smut, unprotected p in v, praise, trying to be quiet, hands over mouths, teasing, dirty-talk, semi-public sex ish, fear of getting caught, mentions of parents being nearby
wc: 2.3k
a/n: feral over the idea of lucas talking the dirtiest shit while his parents are right next door
Your first few days in sweden were like a daydream.
Of course, Lucas took you to all the touristy spots first. The small towns with cobbled roads, the shore with the sprawling blue waters, and the historic sites he'd grown up around.
Your trip was planned during Lucas's off-season, a perfect summer getaway to his home country. The sun shined bright, the big city twinkled at night, and you couldn't have been happier to experience it with him.
After days of lounging around, experiencing the quieter life while having fikas and lazing on the beach, you were set to go stay at his parent's house for the remainder of the trip.
Lucas wanted to visit his family, naturally, and was excited for you to finally meet them. He'd been telling you stories since you'd started dating; about playing hockey with his brother, waiting for his dad to get off work so they could all play games together. It was endearing, the way he seemed so close with all of them.
So you were ecstatic when you finally arrived on the doorstep of the quiet villa, in a little neighborhood.
He'd told you about playing at the Scandinavium in his Frölunda days, because the rink was so close by. He'd spent hours and hours there, he'd said. You couldn't wait to ask his mom about all of this, to see his little pictures and hear all the stories.
When the door opened, a warm gust of air spilled out, smelling of cinnamon and sugar.
Lucas's mom stood before you, and you could see the resemblance immediately. With her wild blonde hair and a smile that was nothing less than adorable.
She welcomed you two in, fussing over Lucas's jacket having a stain on it. He just laughed, brushing it off while carrying both your bags in. She gave you a warm hug, immediately setting the tone as light and friendly.
The villa was tasteful, but you could tell it was luxury. You didn't need to guess that his family had money, most hockey players did. As one of the most expensive sports to play, you kind of had to.
Lucas's mom walked you into the kitchen, chatting softly about your travels and the beginning days of your trip.
Conversations flowed smoothly. You got along perfectly with everyone; fitting in just as Lucas knew you would.
After dinner had come and gone, the fireplace was lit as evening bled into the sky. Your first day with his family was ending, but it had been eventful enough to tire you out.
Lucas looked like a kid on christmas as soon as he announced the two of you were going to retire for the night. His childhood bedroom, untouched and unchanged, awaited.
He held your hand as he brought you back in the house.
"You ready to see where all the magic used to happen?" he laughed, pulling you along to the stairs.
You snorted, allowing yourself to be dragged along.
"The magic? You mean sweat stains and broken sticks?" you shook your head with a fond smile.
As he approached the door, he turned to you.
"What other kind of magic is there?" he said, grinning and pushing open the door.
It was mostly what you expected.
Frölunda posters tacked on the walls, his old jersey slung over a chair, countless sticks and pucks thrown haphazardly into a corner. It was the prime example of a teenage hockey player's bedroom. Messy, sporty, and a little endearing.
Lucas watched you take it all in, his eyes softening as you strolled slowly, observing all of his memorabilia.
You stopped at a shelf above his dresser, reading each inscription on his numerous trophies.
"Top-scorer, best goal percentage," you read off, a soft wonder in your voice.
You turned to him, seeing him leaning against the doorframe, a small smirk ticking the corner of his mouth.
You raised a brow, knowing that look.
"Like seeing all my accomplishments?" his voice was low as he walked a few steps toward you.
You giggled softly, closing the distance and wrapping your arms around his neck.
"Maybe I just like knowing that my boyfriend has always been a winner," you said, leaning in to brush his nose with yours.
Before he could answer, you heard the sounds of his parents coming up the stairs. You dropped your arms from his neck, not wanting to make any weird impression on your first day. As you leaned back on his dresser, his mom poked her head in with a smile.
"We're heading to bed, kids" she said, pointing teasingly at Lucas, "you, behave. And don't stay up too late, your grandparents are coming early" and then she slipped away from the door.
You heard the sound of a door click shut, just a few feet down the hall from you. You looked at Lucas with wide eyes.
"You didn't tell me they were right down the hall!" you said in an urgent whisper, gesturing to the door.
Lucas just shrugged, smirk still stuck on his face.
"You didn't ask," he said simply, smirk deepening when you groaned softly in frustration.
"Sometimes, you are impossible," you breathed, glaring at him, without any real heat in it.
Lucas stepped closer to you again, his hands finding your hips, and his voice dropping lower.
"Impossible huh? Why's it matter if they're right there?" he teased, squeezing your hips, "You planning on doing something loud and inappropriate?"
"Lucas! Don't even think about it," you said as you flushed slightly, breathing through your nostrils.
Lucas didn't look apologetic, or embarrassed. In fact, he just pulled you in closer by your hips, pressing your body into his.
Your eyes widened as you felt the hard line of him through his jeans pressed against you.
"Lucas Raymond," you chided quietly, "you are the worst influence of all time."
Even as you said it, you had to bite back a gasp as he rolled his hips against you.
"Oh really? I've never heard you complain much about my 'influence' when you're-" he's cut off by your hands over his mouth.
You let out an exasperated sigh.
"Jesus Christ. We are right next to your parents if you've already forgotten," you said, hand pressed against his mouth.
Lucas raised a brow, easily pulling your wrist away from his mouth.
"So what? As if that's gonna stop me from fucking my girlfriend in my childhood bedroom?" he said it lowly, still gripping your wrist as his eyes burned into yours.
You looked back desperately at the open door, as you gave him a pleading look.
"Lucas-" you said, your resolve fading, "at least- close the door?" you whispered, sounding more like a plea.
Lucas rolled his eyes playfully, leaning back to swing the door shut with a firm push.
He looked back at you, his hips made another grind, this time harder and more deliberate.
"There," he whispered against your skin, "better?"
You bit hard on your lip to keep from gasping again. He made a low sound in his throat.
Before you could protest, you were in the air, landing softly on his mattress.
Seconds later, Lucas dropped to hover over you, his voice quiet and smooth.
"What do you think, baby?" he said, giving a firm roll of his hips in the new position. "How should I take you in here? Laying down? On your knees? Bouncing on top?" he accentuated each question with a soft nip at your jawline.
It took everything ounce of control to keep in your sounds.
Lucas knew you were loud during sex. He was doing this on purpose, always the little shit pulling annoying scenarios like this.
He didn't wait for your words to push past your sounds, his hands already insistent as he pulled at your clothes.
Helpless against his rising desire, and your own, you complied with the stripping.
You were both already breathing heavily, naked now against the sheets of his old twin bed.
He was way too big for it know, his kees almost falling off as he straddled your thighs. He groaned softly, his length pressing insistently against your stomach.
Lucas slid off the bed, much to your dismay and confusion.
"Lucas? I thought-" but you're silenced by the way he flips you over, pulling up your hips and guiding your knees right to the edge of the bed.
He stood behind you, running a hand down the expanse of your spine, pressing you into a deep arch as his other hand stroked himself slowly.
The posters and memorabilia seemed to stand out even more in the moments before the childhood innocence of this room was about to be tainted.
Lucas guided himself to you, his stance behind you firm as he pushed into you in one long movement. He managed to keep his groan low, almost a rumble beneath his chest.
But you were not so easy to keep quiet.
Your soft whine was loud enough that Lucas put his hand on your head, pushing your face softly into the pillow.
"Shh shh baby, remember? My parents are right down the hall," he breathed, his hand tangling in your hair, "Wouldn't want them to hear how good you scream for me, would we?"
As he said it, he thrusted deep into you, his movements coordinated to bring out those sounds that made his cock throb.
Your whines were swallowed by the pillow as his hips started a quicker rhythm, not pressing your ass flush to his pelvis to avoid the loud slaps it made.
Lucas loved to hit it from behind. Seeing the way you arched, your hair falling across your face. The way your cunt gripped him so tightly from this position. The visual of your ass bouncing each time he slammed harder into you. It was one of his favorite views.
"You take it so good, don't you pretty girl?" he grunted lowly, his thrusts pressing deep into your most sensitive spots from that angle.
"God I love seeing you like this. Such a nice, round ass," he said under his breath as he squeezed it, using it to pull you back harder on his cock.
A high whine escaped from the confines of the pillow, and Lucas reached forward to wrap his large hand around your mouth instead.
"What did I say?" he growled lowly, his mouth near your ear, "You want them to hear you? Want them to know how much you love getting pounded by this dick, huh?"
You moaned against his hand, the filthy words making your cunt clench tight around him.
His head dropped to your shoulder, hips losing their rhythm at the feel of you gripping him tightly, before regaining speed with a more punishing angle.
You squeaked against his hand, legs shaking slightly as he drove into your sweet spot over and over.
Lucas chuckled lowly, grinding the tip of his cock against the spot.
"There it is, huh baby? You gonna cum all over my cock? Make a mess of my teenage bed sheets?" As he said it, his cock twitched and his eyes closed at his own visual.
"Come on," he encouraged with a low growl in your ear, "Say my name when you cum. Let everyone hear exactly who makes you lose your mind, can't even speak a real sentence when I'm done with you."
It was too much; the grinding pressure, his dirty talk so close to your ear, his strong hand pressed tight over your mouth, and the surrounding setting all culminating into a shaking orgasm.
You pussy pulled tight on him, earning a low groan as he felt you coming apart on him.
With a few more shallow thrusts, he followed behind. His cum shooting deep into you.
Lucas pulled out with a wet sound, his cum still hot and pouring out of you.
He watched with a morbid fascination as some spilled from you, dripping onto the sheets. He didn't know why it turned him on so much, taking you like that in this room. But fuck, it definitely did.
As your shaking legs gave way, Lucas was there to catch you, laying you down gently on the bed again.
"You did great baby. Stayed quiet for me, hm? Such a good girl," he said slowly, stroking up your side possessively.
You two fell asleep shortly after, the day's activities draining you of any leftover energy.
When morning hit, you two were still tangled together. Naked, sticky, and definitely late.
You woke up first, shaking him awake. The two of you hurried in sync to get ready for the day, bumping into each other and making clumsy attempts to fix your appearances.
When you finally made it downstairs, Lucas's mom had a soft concern in her eyes.
"Lucas baby, did some of your equipment fall over last night? We heard some loud banging in the middle of the night."
It took every single ounce of Lucas's being to not bust out laughing right there. His face remained straight as he shrugged.
"Probably. You know that shit just does whatever it wants," he says it casually, but there's the slightest hint of smugness in his voice.
His mom nodded and asked, "So how was the guest room, dear? We didn't want to stick you on Lucas's twin bed, even though he doesn't fit on it anymore.
This time, you were nearly mortified. Lucas was no help, having to cover his snort as some variation of a fake sneeze.
You tried to control the tremble in your voice when you said, "Oh! Yeah it was... so nice. Thank you Mrs. Raymond."
The rest of the day was spent with Lucas teasing you insufferably about your "amazing night sleep in the guest room."
You'd get him back for it. Later, on the twin bed.
Could I please request something written for Simon Edvinsson? Saw what you wrote and I LOVE it! Maybe something like Simon being with a more inexperienced/innocent and shy girlfriend and him going down on her, taking her virginity and just being so patient and caring. Like he is literally a giant and he is still so soft (with his girl). Him being so good at communicating and talking her through it. Could also potentially throw in some size kink maybe 👀👀👀
OR honestly just whatever other ideas you have for him, whether it is more like smutty og fluff. I have read everything you have written, and I am so amazed. You are so talented!! I also need more on him, I have been looking for those who write for him, but there are so few.
- 💗
hello angel!!!
here is the writing :) i hope you like it!!!! definitely a different tone than my recent posts lol
i lowkey got so into this one, like on the verge of tears type shit
and thank you so much, it literally means the world to me that my creations can make people happy :,) people like you keep me going, im so serious
our swedish king deserves the world!!! i love him so much <3
simon size kink will come later ;) when it's not an emotionally-fraught fic of literal heart melting sweetieness.
summary: you were anxious to tell simon you were a virgin, but you weren't expecting the sweet response he'd have for you
content/warnings: 18+ mdni!!!!! smut, oral sex (f!receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v, praise, reassurance, mentions of anxiety, loss of virginity, very soft and sweet sex, simon is the sweetest ever, swedish nicknames
wc: 3.5k
a/n: definitely went overboard with the emotions on this one...
Being with Simon is just... different.
And that's good different!
I mean sure, you'd had a boyfriend and maybe a situationship or two. But you'd never felt that having sex with any of them was right.
Your boyfriend never asked how you were, never checked in. He wanted to have sex, but everytime you would politely find a way to decline. He thought going down was "gross" and would never do it. So for the most part, you really didn't have much experience at all. But that's probably for the better, since your boyfriend was an asshole in all departments.
Yeah, it was a good thing you got the hell out of there.
From the moment you met Simon, he was an absolute sweetheart.
A bit of a sassy drama queen? Absolutely.
But when it came to you, he was soft. It was like he'd carved out a spot in his heart just for you, and he wouldn't let anything get close to it.
Everything in your relationship was just... smooth. He made things so easy. You never had to worry about anything, or stress out with him.
He made you feel like a princess. His prinsessa.
Sometimes, he teammates would joke with him, thinking he was ridiculous and somewhat old fashioned for how he treated you.
He thought they should shut their stupid mouths and mind their own business.
Because you were his everything, and he didn't care what anyone else said.
You and simon had been dating for a few months. A few very beautiful, dreamlike months.
Dinner dates, movie nights, flowers for any occasion, every door opened before you. He was just a gentleman, such a sweet guy.
Everything was going wonderfully, until that anxiety started creeping in for you. That feeling of doubt, that he wouldn't be interested, or would laugh at you once you told him about... the thing.
So you kept it to yourself, as if hiding it would make it disappear. When it actually just made the anxiety worse and worse, having it fester just beneath your skin. It made it hard to enjoy your time together, always on edge about if it was going to happen tonight. If he'd try and initiate, and if you'd panic.
So you just tried to keep it from going that far. Even though you really, really wanted it to go further.
Simon was the kind of guy you would be happy to lose your virginity to. He cared about you, he doted on you, and he made you so, so happy.
Simon starts to notice something is off with you. Even just in the few months he's known you, he's started to pick up on your tells, your subtle emotional cues.
You'd flinch away if he tried to kiss you more than just a small press, you would sometimes avoid his eyes, or you'd end a date abruptly, with some excuse.
It worried him. He wondered if you had something going on, something you weren't telling him. Something with your family? With your personal life? He didn't want to pry, but he cared too deeply to not ask about it.
"Älslking," he said softly to you one night while you were wrapped in his arms under a blanket for a movie night.
Uou hummed curiously, looking up at him.
Simon almost melted when he looked into your eyes, the soft, warm look you always gave him.
He cleared his throat softly, arms tightening slightly
"Is everything... okay? I have noticed you've been a little... distant. Is everything okay with your family?" the questions were soft, a gentle probe to make sure he was able to stay in the loop, your loop.
You froze. The anxiety that had been a fire under your skin finally burning through. He knows. He has to know. Oh god. I've been acting weird, you thought.
You were pulled back by Simon's soft grip on your chin
"It's okay, you can tell me anything," he waited, patient as always, stroking his thumb over your chin.
You didn't mean to. You didn't want to. But a single, fat tear fell on to your cheek.
Immediately simon swiped it away, pulling you tight to his chest.
You couldn't help it, the build up of all the stress finally bubbling over in to your hiccuping sobs.
His large hands stroked in your hair and ran down your back, as he whispered softly into your ear.
"It's okay, it's okay. You don't have to tell me. I'm right here. Let it out."
Once you felt kind of okay to speak, you muttered into his chest, "I-It's embarrassing," your voice muffled by his shirt.
His movements halted, and he gently brought your face in front of his.
"Nothing can be embarrassing to me älskling. if there is a problem, I will help you solve it. If you need to talk, I will listen," the clear conviction in his voice was like a gut punch.
The truth. You just needed to say it. To just open your mouth, and finally...
"I'm-a-virgin," you blurt, face instantly reddening as your cadence quickens, "I didn't want to tell you because I was scared you wouldn't like me or like, be embarrassed or uninterested and I was anxious and I-," he stopped the rush of words coming from your mouth with a soft press of his lips.
"That, is what has been wrong this whole time?" he whispered, searching your eyes.
You nod, your eyes still shining with tears left unshed.
Simon hugs you tightly, crushing your body against his
"Oh, prinsessa... that is the least of any concern I have. You think I would be uninterested in you because you are a virgin? That is... shallow," he shakes his head, "You are so much more than what you have done in that way. Even if we never did anything like that, I would be happy to be here with you. Just like this," his words land in the quiet space, your anxiety struggling to find something to grasp on to.
He doesn't... he isn't mad? He said he'd be fine doing it... never? Like never ever?
A flood of relief washed over you, settling deep into your bones.
"W-well," you started, still flustered and blushing under the new information, "I do want it. With you. With you, I... I know I want it"
His face turned serious, both of his hands cupping your face.
"Only if you're absolutely certain. There's no need to rush anything here. For us. We have all the time we want," he says, stroking your cheeks slowly.
You nod, the apprehension in your expression now fading.
"I'm sure. I've never felt like this with anyone else Simon. You're... you're different. And I trust you," you said the last words quietly, watching for his reaction.
His expression melted from serious, to being absolutely captivated by you.
"That... means the world, älskling. And I will protect that trust for my whole life," his voice came out in a rough whisper, emotion clearly starting to bleed into his attempted seriousness.
Weeks passed after that conversation. You felt lighter, happier, and just better. The weight of the hiding had been lifted, and you could go on with everything, knowing that there was no deadline on that specific moment.
It happened on a summer night. It was his offseason, so you could spend much more time together.
Simon had spent time setting everything up. Sending you to get your nails done with a hundred dollars and shushes to all of your protests. For the next two hours, he set up his apartment.
He was somewhat traditional, and so he liked classic romance in situations like this. Rose petals, candles, dinner, the whole deal. But in his own way.
Simon got your favorite flowers, setting them in different spots around the apartment. Little pops of color brightening up the space. He lit your favorite scent, the one you always said you liked to light when he was on roadtrips, because it reminded you of him.
The night before, he had already prepped everything to make you dinner. And as the last twenty minutes of his timer rang; his stopwatch on how long your nail appointment was, he was ready.
He killed the rest of the time nervously. checking his hair in reflections, making sure the comforter was sitting perfectly on the bed, that the food was still going to be warm by the time you arrived.
He took a final deep breath as he heard the door handle turn.
Simon smiled as you came in, he couldn't help it, with the way you were grinning and wiggling your new nails in his face.
He held one of your hands in his, inspecting the manicure with a performative clinical precision.
"They are beautiful, but they are even more lovely when they are on your perfect hands," he said, and your rolled your eyes playfully.
You looked past him, into the rest of the apartment.
A faint smell of food that you love, wafted from the kitchen. You spotted a few of your favorite flowers scattered around.
Did you forget your anniverssary?
You raised a brow, walking in further.
"Simme? What's all this?" you said, tracing a flower petal resting on the kitchen island.
Simon had a soft pink tinge on his cheeks. He shruged, failing at trying to be casual.
"Just... something special. For my prinsessa," he smiled warmly, guiding you by the hand into the dining room. He pulled your chair out, waiting for you to sit.
You watched as he disappeared into the kitchen, coming back with plates balanced precariously on his arms.
You giggle softly, "Need any help with that?"
Simon chuckles warmly, relaxing as he sets the plates down.
"You know I would not ask you to lift a finger if I am capable of doing it instead," his low voice rumbled, setting your plate in front of you.
The two of you spend dinner chatting in the easy way that soothes you.
Once you'd both finished, he insisted on doing all of the dishes, shooing you off to the living room.
There's the soft, domestic sounds of dishes clinking and water running, a background to the calm thoughts that floated in your mind.
When he finished, he came to sit next to you on the couch, angling his body towards yours. He took both of your hands in his, his large hands engulfing them.
Simon swallowed, and then started, "Älskling, I've been... thinking."
He shifted closer, "I do not want to rush anything with you, and we will do everything at your pace always. But, would you want to..." he trailed off softly, his hands squeezing yours.
Simon's eyes searched yours, hoping you'll pick up on his hinting.
You saw the soft, tender look in his eyes, the way he's stroking the backs of your hands. And you nodded.
"Yes. Yes, I... I want to. I want you," the words come out in a soft breath, and Simon leaned forward to press his forehead to yours.
"Thank you. Thank you for trusting me. I promise I will take care of you. It is my favorite job," the promised whisper landed delicately between you, his eyes closed with emotion.
His hands slid to your cheeks, leaning his head in slowly, waiting for you to meet him the rest of the way.
Your lips pressed against each other in soft movements at first, but quickened as you both became more desperate.
Simon remained careful with you, his making out was deliberate, focused entirely on you.
When he picked you up, he did so with utmost care. Lifting you into his arms as he walked toward his bedroom.
The scene inside was purely Simon; sheets fresh and laid perfectly, the candle you love burning on the nightstand, and flowers scattered across the room.
You almost wanted to cry. It's so thoughtful, so Simon, that you couldn't help but lean up and kiss his jaw and his neck.
He set you down gently, coming to lay next to you on the bed.
"How are you feeling so far?" he asked softly, his eyes searching yours for any hesitation.
You didn't answer with words, just leaning into him again.
The next kisses weren't as tentative, his hand cupping your cheek and holding your mouth open slightly for him. Your mouths were moving against each other like it was what they were made for, fitting perfectly together.
Simon started to drift his hand down, grazing over your collarbone, your shoulder, down your arm. When he reached the underside of your breast, his thumb gave a soft swipe.
You hummed softly, encouraging him, and his movements became more sure. His hand came to cup your breast, sliding his thumb over the sensitive skin of your nipple, drawing a gasp from you.
Simon pulled back his head slightly, asking against your lips, "Is this okay?"
You nodded quickly, pressing closer in to his hand to signal. Your words weren't trained for this yet, your tongue feeling heavy on unfamiliar words you'd never spoken. So you let your body do most of the talking.
He brought his other hand to join, softly stroking over both nipples as he watcheed your face for your reactions.
After a soft moan escaped you, he reached for the hem of your shirt.
"Off?" he asked simply, tugging gently on it.
You nodded again, letting him pull the shirt off you.
His breath caught at the sight of you, in just your bra before him.
"You are so beautiful," he whispered, stroking the newly exposed skin.
You shivered under his touch, bringing your hands tentatively to your bra clasp. He rested a hand on yours, fixing you with a serious look.
"You're sure?" he said, stroking your wrist as he waits.
Your hands undid the clasp with a small click, pulling it off and dropping it to the floor.
Simon's face heated slightly, as he brought his hand back to your now naked breasts.
"My god, älskling," he whispered, stroking your skin, "You are heavenly."
Simon leaned down, his mouth coming to gently cover over your nipple, letting the wet heat of his mouth settle over you. He humed softly as you shuddered, sucking gently, his other hand stroking the opposite nipple.
It's all new for you, and you gasped and breathed softly, eyes closed against the sensation.
As he moved his mouth to switch sides, he murmured, "Feel good?"
You pressed your chest closer, humming, "Mhmm-"
After the proper attention he'd given to your breasts, Simon's hands drifted down your stomach, toward your waistband.
He looked up at you, his voice a slight whisper, "Are you ready? You promise?"
You shivered again, the doubt still sitting at the door of your mind, but you did your best to slam it shut.
"Y-Yes. I'm ready. P-Please, Simmie-" you said, pushing against his fingers.
Simon pushed your shorts and underwear down together, slowly sliding them off and setting them on the floor. He parted your legs, and he let out a soft, breathy sigh.
His fingers stroked the skin above, slowly trailing down until he was ghosting against your most sensitive skin.
You gasped sharply as his finger brushed close.
"Are you alright? You want me to keep going?" his voice was filled with a quiet concern, his fingers stilled.
You nodded frantically, opening your legs further to him.
A small groan left his chest at the sight, his fingers growing more confident in their exploration. He pressed them all over; stroking, sliding, touching. He was prepared to spend as long as it takes, on any step you wanted.
At the small buck of your hips, Simon slid a finger against your entrance, pushing in lightly.
You moaned softly, the sensation new, but good.
"Oh-" you gasped, as he pressed in further.
Soon enough, he was setting a steady, slow pace with his finger delving in and out of you. He asked if you were good, if you needed anything, if you still wanted it.
Before long, he'd received your permission to put his mouth on you.
Simon moaned gratefully the moment your taste touched his tongue, his fingers stilling slightly.
"Oh, prinsessa," he moaned against your skin, making you shiver, "You taste like the sweetest candy I've ever had."
He continued his movements, drinking you in slowly, with a patience and reverence you'd use for a sacred object.
His mouth worked rhythmically, pulling deep pleasure from you, as you whined and moaned into the room. Simon didn't let up, simply setting the deliberately slow pace to bring you to your edge, but in a way that wouldn't be shocking or too much for you.
The feeling of falling off the edge, of him being there to catch you, was like nothing else you've ever felt.
You clenched your inner muscles around him as you cried out, spasming on his fingers as your release hit in gentle waves.
Simon moaned against you, drawing out every last pull of your orgasm until he was gently lapping at your entrance.
By the time he came back up to hover over you, he was breathless, his eyes filled with an adoration you almost couldn't bear to look at.
His hand strokeed your temple, brushing aside a stray hair.
"You are incredible," he whispered, swiping his hand over his mouth before he came to plant a soft kiss against your mouth.
"How are you feeling, älskling? Are you finished for tonight?" he asked it with a gentle care, his focus unwavering from your emotions.
Your breathing calmed, and you said, "That was amazing, Simon. But I... I still want all of you."
Simon shuddered softly as the words washed over him, and he nodded carefully.
He reached for his waistband, pausing and asking for the final, silent permission from you.
You met his gaze, nodding deliberately.
Simon pushed off his pants and boxers, kicking them to the floor before he was hovering over you on his forearms.
"Promise me, you will tell me if it is too much. The moment you stop liking it, or are in pain, we stop. No questions, no dicussion. Okay?" the tender care in his voice was unmistakable, and your eyes shimmered slightly before you blinked it away.
"Okay," you choked out softly, your arms raising to wrap around his neck.
Simon let out a slow breath, carefully aligning himself with you.
The first push was a strange fullness, but it quickly faded into a delightful pleasure that had your mouth dropping open as your moans became louder.
You both let out long sighs of relief when he'd slowly buried himself all the way inside you, staying motionless as his forehead pressed to yours.
"How are you doing?" he checked, still completely still.
You nodded, rubbing your foreheads together.
"I'm perfect," you whispered back.
After another moment, his movements became slow, measured thrusts. They were long and deep, rocking his hips carefully into yours. He was panting softly now, his thighs trembling.
"Incredible. You are so, so perfect. My beautiful girl," he whispered against your cheek, "You are doing so well. Taking me so good, prinsessa."
Simon continued his slow rocking, lulling both of you into a gentle state of soft pleasure and overwhelming tenderness.
It lasts for what felt like eternity, wrapped so closely together, Simon's soft words guiding you through the sensations.
When Simon finished, it was with his hips pressed flush with yours, a gasped moan escaping his lips as his hips twitched, and finally stilled.
He immediately gathered you into his arms, lying down with you wrapped completely around him. His large hands traced down your spine, running his fingers down your delicate bones.
You gave a slow, contended sigh, already feeling tired with the emotional weight of the day.
"Thank you, Simon. I'm glad you were my first," you whispered into the space between your mouths.
Simon's breath caught, a tear finally fell from his eye.
"No, thank you, älslking. For trusting me. For letting me take care of you. I never wish to do anything else. Besides be here, for you. In any way you need me," he murmured against your mouth, pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips.
As you gave a soft hum, the next words that fell from his mouth landed with a much heavier weight.
"I... I love you," he said, pulling back gently to watch your face.
You stared up at him, speechless for a moment, before you responded in kind.
"I love you too, Simon," you breathed, gaze fixed on his.
Before you knew it, you were both letting tears fall on eachother. His arms were tight around you, your hands were softly resting on his shoulder and the nape of his neck.
You fell asleep, tangled together in your own emotional bubble, finally in a state of complete peace.
Simon meant everything he said that night. He would do anything to protect your peace, to ensure you were living your life without worry. He has that space he created, that carved out home, in his heart reserved for you, forever.
Please please Connor Bedard x reader. He gets home from a roadie late at night to see you asleep in bed. He missed you so much and he needs you. He begins by touching your breasts, tweaking your nipples through your shirt, then travels down to your pussy. You wake up with his head between your thighs, more turned on than youve ever been. Maybe some light choking? Unprotected sex????
aaaaand here it is.
betraying my wings a bit by going into blackhawks territory, but it must be done
would love to write more requests!!! loving all the ones i've got so far. appreciate everyone so much, thank you angels
