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[hyunjinvoid]

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hyunjinvoid. apr 2026. © do not repost, rewrite, or translate without my express permission.

[verstopia]

rip steven meeks you would've loved to know humans went to space twice and rip neil perry you would've loved to know humans played under pressure and pink pony club in space

[sidneycrosbysfatass]

Sidney « pornstache » crosby

[sidneycrosbysfatass]

Sidney « pornstache » crosby

[bedsyandco]

• ✿ 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐌𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 ﹐ CB⁹⁸ ࿐

🫙 . ꒷ ︵ ℓo͟v͟ꫀ jar .ᐟ 𝓯!reader. suggestive content. mdni. connor never wants to stop kissing you ⊹ ׂ ♡

connor couldn’t exactly put into words what it was about seeing the hickeys on his skin that made his pulse stutter. he’s been bruised up more times than he could count, and despite some of the hockey related bruises looking suspiciously similar to the marks currently dotting his neck, none of those bruises ever made his stomach flip the way these did.

maybe it was the way you left them. the sexy, slightly desperate way you licked and sucked at his skin. maybe it was knowing that the marks came from the intention of love, affection and want, not harm. either way connor wasn’t thinking much about the why of it all while you were plopped on his lap, adding to your collection.

“jeez baby.” the words were barely audible, husky and warm as they floated past his swollen lips. his hands tightening on your waist only encouraged you more, adjusting his head further back as you kiss and nibble at the skin below his jaw. “the guys are gonna give me so much shit for this.”

“want me to stop?” your tongue runs along his chain, and you can’t help but grin at the breathy whimper that escapes when you scrape your teeth over his adam’s apple.

“no. don’t ever stop.” he begs, panting against your forehead as you continue your little bites of affection down towards his chest.

“i don’t know about ever, baby. i mean we need to eat and—” he interrupts your rambling with three quick pecks. one, two, three. your hands land on his biceps as he lifts his hips, desperately seeking any friction against his dick that was staining against his grey sweatpants.

“we don’t need to eat.” he whispers feverishly, the little head shake he gives so earnest and genuine it makes you giggle.

“no?” you ask teasingly, trailing a finger down his stomach and grinning at the way it clenches beneath your touch. “you don’t need to eat? you’re not hung—”

he cuts you off with another string of kisses, following each time you try to pull away. “no…” he mumbles against your lips, shaking his head again to reiterate. “just need this—you. please.”

you cup his face, thumb skimming over his bottom lip. it’s still swollen from the kisses, from your teeth, from the way he keeps chasing you. his eyes flick down to your mouth and back up again, pupils blown, lashes a little damp.

“you have me.” you whisper, smiling as you kiss the corner of his jaw. “but you’re not gonna have me much longer if we don’t eat because i’m starving.” as if summoned, your stomach makes a loud growl and connor’s eyes widen, rubbing your stomach as if he could soothe the hunger away.

“as much as i love you mauling me, you do know that i don’t have any nutritional value right?” connor teases, tightening his arms around your waist.

“i don’t knowwww…these biceps could feed families, con.” you squeeze both his arms, giggling when he lowers his head and gives a playful bite to your shoulder.

“very funny.”

[belli5]

I LOVE YOU WHEN YOU SMILEᵎᵎ MC⁷¹

╰ Synopsis You’re blessed and obsessed with Macklin’s smile and lips.

tags/contains Macklin Celebrini x fem!reader. Fluff, established relationship, reader obsessed with Macklin’s lips and smile(duh), 0.9k words, requested.

➺ from Sera, to you📨. This is short, forgive me. But the name of this fic and the end of the story, is inspired by one of my favourite songs: Daggers.

masterlist ᥫ᭡ please reblog this fic if you enjoyed it!

If there were a top three things you loved most about Macklin, his smile and his lips would easily take the first two spots.

You couldn’t quite put your finger on what made them so addicting, maybe it was how his bottom lip looked so soft and full it practically begged to be kissed.

You didn’t know why they held your attention like this, but you knew for certain that kissing them was one of your favorite things in the world. Either it was soft and slow kisses or hungry ones, breathless ones and the ones that left you dizzy and wanting more.

Sometimes when Macklin yapped about his day, you tried to listen, but really the way his lips moved around every syllable was mesmerizing. They parted and pressed together, the faint sheen of moisture catching the lamplight whenever he paused to think.

When he smiled at a joke he’d just made about one of his teammates, those straight white teeth flashed, the slight sharpness of his canines catching your eye. Even his teeth were perfect.

You knew it was normal, couples in love stared at each other’s lips. It was attraction and biology, but with Macklin, it felt like more. You were drawn to them in a way that went beyond simple want. Sometimes you’d catch yourself zoning out completely, replaying the memory of how they felt against yours, how they tasted and how they curved so beautifully when he laughed.

You’d seen how perfect Macklin’s smile was from the very beginning. It was only a couple of weeks into dating when you met his mom for the first time.

She had welcomed you into their family home with warm hugs and endless stories, clearly thrilled that her son had found someone. After dinner, the three of you settled on the couch with old photo albums spread across the coffee table. Macklin had groaned in embarrassment, but his mom insisted.

She pointed to a picture of tiny Macklin, maybe three years old, grinning ear to ear in a little hockey jersey. His smile was already so bright, his chubby cheeks framing a toothy grin that showed his straight little teeth.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly. You teased present Macklin, who was sitting next to you right now, about how he was the cutest.

It wasn’t just that you loved his smile. It was everything those lips could do. Especially after a long day, when the two of you finally have time to unwind together.

Nothing felt better than collapsing onto the couch or bed with Macklin, trading soft little pecks that slowly turned into something deeper. His lips were incredibly soft, dare you say unfairly so. Every gentle press against yours reminded you why you could never get enough.

Macklin could come over after a tough practice, and you’d have a draining day yourself. The second he walked through the door, you pulled him close. He smiled and you rose onto your tiptoes to give him a sweet peck, then another, and another.

He’d guide you toward the bedroom, where you both fell onto the mattress in a tangle of limbs. What started as innocent pecks becomes more. Macklin hovered over you, his lips tracing a slow path down your body. He kissed along your jaw, pressing open mouthed kisses to your neck that made your breath hitch. You loved the way his full bottom lip dragged gently against your skin teasingly.

His lips brushing over your collarbone, your chest, your stomach, each kiss affectionate. Every now and then his teeth would graze lightly, sending tiny sparks through you. Then he worked his way back up, kissing your neck again, with playful little breaths that tickled your sensitive skin.

You couldn’t help but giggle, squirming beneath him. “Macklin, that tickles!”

He laughed softly, the sound vibrating against your throat, before capturing your lips once more. The kiss was slower, his mouth moving against yours with a perfect rhythm. His bottom lip felt plush between yours, and when he smiled into the kiss, you felt the curve of it and the flash of his teeth.

These intimate moments after long days were truly the best part of your life with him. It somehow made you feel cherished and desired all at once. And you were lucky enough to have them all to yourself.

That night you two fell asleep tangled together. The next morning, you woke up slowly to the feeling of Macklin’s chest pressed warmly against your back, his strong arm draped securely around your waist, holding you close.

Carefully, you turned over, trying not to wake him. Macklin stirred slightly, moving onto his back with a quiet sigh, one arm falling loosely beside his head. You rolled onto your stomach, propping yourself up on one elbow. In the soft morning light, he looked peaceful and unfairly handsome.

You reached out gently, tracing his face with your fingertips. First along his jaw, then up to the curve of his cheek. “I love you when you smile,” you said quietly not to wake him up.

Leaning down, you pressed the lightest kiss to his chest, right over his heart. His skin was warm, and you could feel the faint beat beneath your lips. Then you settled back down, resting your head on his chest again, ear pressed comfortably against him.

The rhythmic thump of his heartbeat filled your ears like the sweetest lullaby, pulling you into a light, peaceful sleep.

TAGLIST: @bouncedatahhh @cheerymints @lynsdigitaljournal @ill-uminati7 @behindthescreenobsessed @lemsies25 @definitelynotdomanique @lcvlyhughesy @sh1ft1ng1234 @willsmiths2 @mintbrini98 @kazansky-slxt @siennaluvshcky @wherethezoes-at @macka @carlottawllms @Blankenbirks @mcelebrini @probably--possessed @celebrinigf @postgamevibes @icetimedreamer @misslivinglegend @alexxavicry @sohhh09 @goaldengay @umm-ok-fine @idkwhatthisis2009 @luckylzclerc @miyasfatass @0717luv @downtownjulie @feellikeimphoebe @lilfreakjez @astrolatrism @asteria33 @cccassiopeia @mrsbedard @Ponyboygirl1234 @vivireichs @itzlexa @hyunjinvoid @sxphmarny

Join the taglist here.

[nylqnder]

CAN’T TURN YOU DOWN ⋆ GABE PERREAULT

pairing⠀⁎ smith!sister!reader x gabe perreault

summary ⁎ it was already hard keeping the two of you a secret from will. put you in a tiny bikini and gabe doesn’t know if he can last the week [ wc: 3.3k ]

warnings ⁎ 18+, brief sexual themes, handjob (ish?), appearances from will + ryan

authors note ⁎ kinda my first time writing anything bordering on smut so sorry if it sucks!

The lake sun beat down on the dock, slowly turning your skin into a deeper, honeyed warmth. Little beads of sweat slipped down your ribs and soaked into the striped towel beneath you, the wood planks hot enough that you could feel the heat radiating through the fabric.

Voices drifted from the lawn—Will and Ryan arguing about something football-related. You didn’t bother opening your eyes. The quiet, the heat, the steady lap of the lake against the dock—it almost lulled you into forgetting how careful you’d been all week.

Your phone buzzed against the wood beside your hip, sharp and sudden in the stillness.

You rolled your head to the side lazily, reaching for it. Your stomach flipped when you read the name associated with the message.

Gabe come up

You instinctively lifted your head, glancing back towards the lawn. Will had his back turned to you while he still argued with Ryan, both of them completely distracted. Neither of them was paying attention to you.

Still, your heart started to pound like they somehow knew.

You dropped your gaze back to your phone, thumb hovering over the screen.

come up

That was it. No explanation, no emoji, nothing with it to soften it. You swallowed, sitting up slowly, trying to look as casual as possible as you stood up from the dock.

“Going inside,” you called, keeping your voice light.

Will barely glanced over. “Bring me a drink?”

“Get it yourself,” you shot back automatically, grateful your tone came out normal.

Ryan snorted. “She’s not your servant, man.”

“Shut up.” Will waved you off, already distracted again.

Good.

You grabbed your stuff before turning towards the house, forcing yourself not to rush. Don’t make it obvious.

Every step across the grass felt louder than it should have, like the universe was daring someone to notice. Your pulse thrummed in your ears, anticipation mixing with your nerves. Or maybe it was guilt.

You slipped inside, the sudden shade cooling your skin but doing nothing to settle the heat building under it. The house was quiet, the hum of the AC faint against the distant voices outside.

The sneaking around was becoming harder and harder every day.

It started in New York initially. You were attending college there when Gabe got called up. Will had texted you—half-joking, half-serious—to “make sure he didn’t get lost in the city.” You’d rolled your eyes at the time, but you still texted Gabe anyway. Offered to show him around, grab coffee, help him figure out the subway without embarrassing himself.

You’d known Gabe for ages, ever since he and your brother had started playing together at the USNTDP. It was supposed to be friendly. Casual.

One afternoon turned into a few. Coffee runs turned into late-night walks through the city, then dinners that lasted too long, conversations that got too personal. Somewhere between laughing over how bad he was at navigating the city and sitting shoulder-to-shoulder on the fire escape outside your window, things had shifted.

You didn’t have a moment when it started. No clear line where it went from friendship to something else. Just one night where his hand brushed yours and neither of you pulled away.

However, there was always a problem. Will.

You had told yourself you’d figure out how to tell him. That you’d find the right moment, the right words, the right way to make it not feel like a betrayal.

But there was never a good time.

At first, it felt temporary—like you were just waiting for the right moment. But then the season got busy, and then it felt easier not to say anything, and then suddenly you were here, at the lake house, a week of forced proximity turning “we’ll tell him eventually” into something that felt impossible.

And now you were here, in this house, pretending like the two of you weren’t constantly orbiting each other. Like you didn’t know the way he took his coffee or the exact way your name sounded coming out of his mouth after he just woke up.

The hallway felt too quiet as you made your way toward the guest room, each step measured, careful. You paused outside the door for half a second, listening—like you expected to hear someone coming up behind you, like you were already getting caught.

Nothing.

You knocked once, soft, before pushing the door open.

Gabe was exactly where you expected him to be—sitting back against the headboard, one leg stretched out, the other bent, phone loose in his hand. His hair was still damp from the lake, curling slightly at the ends, a t-shirt thrown on like he hadn’t bothered to fully dry off.

His eyes lifted the second you stepped in.

For a moment, neither of you said anything.

You just shut the door behind you, the quiet click louder than it should’ve been, and crossed the room. You climbed onto the bed and curled around him

Your arms slid around his middle, his immediately wrapping around you in return, pulling you in tight against his chest like he’d been waiting for it. Like he needed it just as much as you did.

You exhaled the second you settled, your cheek pressing into his shoulder, the familiar warmth of him grounding you in a way nothing else had all week.

For a few seconds, maybe longer, you just stayed like that.

No talking. No thinking about who was downstairs or how thin the walls felt or how wrong this could look if anyone walked in.

His hand moved slowly up and down your back, absentminded, soothing. Your fingers curled slightly into his shirt.

“This is nice,” he murmured finally, voice low, almost like he didn’t want to break it either.

You huffed a quiet laugh against him. “Yeah.”

You tilted your head back slightly, just enough to look up at him. “I missed you.”

Gabe’s mouth twitched, something amused flashing across his face. “You’ve seen me every day.”

You rolled your eyes, nudging him lightly. “You know what I mean.” He let out a soft laugh, his hand pausing on your back for a second before continuing its slow path. “It hasn’t been just us all week. We’ve been with thing one and thing two the entire time.”

That got a real laugh out of him, his head tipping back slightly. “Thing one and thing two?”

“You know exactly who I’m talking about,” you said, trying not to smile too much.

“Yeah,” he nodded, grin lingering. “Unfortunately.”

Gabe knew exactly what you meant. Will and Ryan occupied him every waking moment. Whether it was cards or going wakeboarding, they were always keeping him busy. You both got it, you both understood. He was their friend first. And it wasn’t like the two of you could hang out together without raising red flags.

You let out a breath, your expression softening again. “I mean it, though. This is only, like… the second time we’ve been alone.”

His eyes flickered back to yours, something quieter settling in them now. “Midnight walk doesn’t count?”

You huffed. “We didn’t even hold hands.”

“That was your fault,” he pointed out, nudging your side.

“My fault?” you shot back, incredulous. “You were the one who kept looking over your shoulder like we were being hunted.”

“Because we were,” he said easily. “Your brother is terrifying.”

You snorted softly, but it faded quickly, the reality of that statement settling in between you.

Your brother.

The reason you were here, whispering in a closed room instead of just existing like a normal couple.

Your gaze dropped for a second, fingers absentmindedly tracing the hem of his shirt. “It’s just… different here.”

“I know,” Gabe said quietly.

You looked back up at him. He was already watching you, his expression softer now, more serious than it had been a minute ago.

“We’ll figure it out,” he added, like he could read exactly where your head had gone.

You wanted to believe that.

God, you did.

But right now, with Will just downstairs and Ryan probably not far behind him, it felt less like something you’d figure out and more like something that was slowly closing in on you.

Still—you shifted closer again anyway, tucking yourself back into his side, because this part at least was real. This part you could have.

“Just… stay up here a little longer,” you murmured.

His arm tightened around you instantly. “Wasn’t planning on going anywhere.”

You let your eyes close again, settling into the quiet rhythm of his breathing, the steady rise and fall under your cheek. For a moment, it almost felt normal—like New York, like those nights where you didn’t have to think about anyone else.

But then you became aware of everything again.

The heat of the room. The way your skin still felt warm from the sun. The fact that you were very aware of how little you were wearing.

And, apparently, so was he.

Gabe’s hand, which had been lazily tracing your back, stilled for a second before shifting slightly, his fingers brushing along your side instead.

“Y’know,” he said, voice quieter now, a little more deliberate, “this might be the worst place possible for you to look like that.”

You didn’t move right away, but your lips curved against his shoulder. “Like what?”

His hand slid just a fraction higher, thumb grazing warm skin where your bikini top met your ribs. Not crossing a line, but just enough to make your breath catch.

“Like that,” he repeated, softer.

You tilted your head back again, meeting his eyes, pretending you didn’t already know what he meant. “You’re gonna have to be more specific.”

His gaze flicked over your face for a second—your eyes, your mouth—before dropping, slow and unmistakable. When it came back up, there was something different there now.

“You look really good in that bikini.”

The way he said it—low, almost like he wasn’t sure he should—sent a warmth curling through you that had nothing to do with the sun.

You bit back a smile, tilting your head slightly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said, a little firmer this time.

You shifted just enough to lean up on your elbow, hovering closer to him now, your faces only inches apart. “Good enough that you had to text me to come up here?”

A hint of a grin tugged at his mouth. “Was that not obvious?”

You hummed softly, letting your fingers drift absentmindedly over the fabric of his shirt, tracing the line of his chest. “I thought maybe you just missed me.”

“I did miss you,” he said immediately.

There was no teasing in that part.

Your expression softened for half a second—but then you tilted your head, letting your knee brush against his leg, just enough to be intentional.

“But?” you prompted.

His hand tightened slightly on your side, pulling you just a little closer. “But you? Being in these tiny ass bikinis all week long? It’s not helping me with the whole ‘keep us a secret at all costs’ thing.”

The air shifted—subtle, but unmistakable. The teasing lingered, but it was thinner now, stretched tight over something else. Something that had been building all week, every glance, every almost-touch, every moment you had to pretend not to know each other like this.

Your gaze dropped to his mouth without meaning to.

And he noticed.

“Careful,” Gabe said softly, but he didn’t move back.

“You started it,” you whispered.

“That’s not—”

You didn’t let him finish.

Your hand slid up to his jaw, fingers curling lightly at the back of his neck as you closed the small distance between you.

The kiss wasn’t hesitant. It wasn’t slow, either.

It was immediate, like something that had been waiting all week, snapping into place the second you let it. His hand came down to your waist, pulling your hips in as your lips pressed against his, warm and familiar and just a little desperate.

You shifted, swinging one leg over him until you were straddling his hips, your knees sinking into the mattress on either side. A slow breath slipped past your lips as your hands settled against his chest, steadying yourself.

He kissed you back just as quickly, just as firmly, like he’d been holding it in too. Like this was the part he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about.

For a second, the rest of the house disappeared.

No Will. No Ryan. No careful footsteps or quiet doors or stolen glances.

Just this.

Your fingers slid into his hair, still slightly damp, and he let out the faintest moan against your mouth, his grip tightening at your side as he pulled you closer, like even this wasn’t close enough.

Your hips settled more firmly against his, and the reaction was immediate. His breath hitched slightly as his hands tightened at your waist. You felt the way his body responded beneath you, sending a flicker of heat low in your stomach.

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your lips still brushing his, your breath mingling with his.

His eyes were darker now, completely locked on you.

“You’re trouble,” he murmured, voice rougher than before.

Your mouth curved, slow and teasing. “Me?”

His grip slid slightly, fingers coming around to the curve of your ass. “You know exactly what you’re doing.”

You tilted your head, letting your hair fall forward a little as you leaned closer again, your lips ghosting along his jaw this time. “Do I?”

Your hips moved without you really thinking about it, a subtle roll against him. Gabe’s breath broke, a quiet exhale slipping past his lips as his head tipped back into the mattress for a second.

“Yeah,” he said under his breath, almost like a warning. “‘Specially with this fuckin’ thing.”

He slipped a finger under the tie around your waist, snapping the elastic fabric back to your hip, teasing you lightly. You smiled against his skin.

Pulling back again, you let your fingers toy absentmindedly with the string at your shoulder, gaze still locked on his. “Oh, this old thing?”

There was something playful in your tone—but your hands didn’t stop. You grabbed one of the strings and tugged lightly. The knot around your neck loosened, the fabric cups slipping off your chest. You undid the knot in the back, tossing the top onto the bed next to you.

Gabe went still for half a second, like his brain was trying to catch up with what he was seeing, his gaze flicking back up to your face like he needed to check if you were serious. You were.

“Jesus,” he muttered, almost to himself.

You bit back a smile, leaning down again, brushing your lips against his. His hands came up this time, not hesitant, settling more firmly at your waist as he kissed you back, slower but heavier, like he was trying to match your pace and failing just a little.

Your hips moved again, more deliberate now, and this time he reacted instantly—his grip tightening, a low breath leaving him as his head tipped back for a second before he pulled you back down to him.

“Careful,” he murmured again, but there was no real warning left in it.

You hovered there for a second, close enough that your noses brushed, your lips barely touching.

“Or what?” you whispered.

His eyes flicked between yours, searching for a second—like he was giving you one last out. You didn’t take it.

Instead, your fingers drifted down, tracing lightly along his chest again before settling at his waist, toying with the edge of his shorts.

You let your fingers linger there for a moment, teasing just enough to make him shift beneath you, the heat of his body pressing up through the fabric. His hands moved instinctively to your hips, holding you steady, but you tilted your head with a sly smirk, letting your gaze drift down to the knot of your bikini bottoms.

“Want to help me with these?” you asked, voice low, teasing, almost breathless.

Without waiting, his fingers found the strings, tugging gently at first, just enough to feel them loosen under his touch. He slid his hands along the curve of your hips, teasing and testing, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake.

You slipped a hand up his shirt briefly, feeling his happy trail beneath your palm before going back to his waistband and dipping your hand beneath it.

A low, guttural sound escaped him, half a gasp, half a growl, as you took him into your hand. You felt him twitch in your grasp, the quietest little moan slipping out of his lips. You felt your core get hot, your hips shifting again, sending a wave of pleasure through you.

Then suddenly, the sound of unmistakably heavy footsteps started coming up the stairs. You froze. Gabe’s hands tightened on your hips instinctively, his body tense beneath you. Your hand stilled, caught in mid-motion, and you both went silent, listening.

Your heart slammed in your chest. That wasn’t just the creak of the old stairs—it was someone coming up fast. Too fast.

You barely had time to react before your brain screamed at you to move. Gabe’s eyes flicked to the door, panic mingling with desire in a way that made your stomach twist. Without thinking, you scrambled off the bed, heart hammering in your chest, and darted for the closet. From the bed, Gabe tried to straighten, tossing the covers casually over his lower half, covering where his hard-on had caused his swim shorts to tent. He spotted your red polka dot bikini top beside him on the bed, grabbing it and frantically shoving it under the covers beside him.

The door to the closet clicked shut just as the first knock came. From inside, you crouched, pressing yourself flat against the wall, trying to steady your breathing. You could hear Gabe greet someone casually, and then the unmistakable sound of Will’s voice.

“You okay?” Will asked, stepping fully into the room.

“Just… resting,” Gabe replied, voice low, careful.

There was a beat of silence before Will spoke again. “Wanna go for a boat ride with me and Ryan?”

Gabe’s reply came slowly, deliberate. “I think I’m actually just gonna… nap.”

“Oh, okay man, yeah that’s fine.” A pause, then Will’s voice softened slightly, almost curious. “Uh… have you seen my sister?”

Caught off guard, Gabe stammered. “No—no, why would I… see her?”

“She came inside a little bit ago but she wasn’t in her room,” Will continued, shrugging, “But maybe she’s on a run or something.”

“Yeah maybe.” Gabe agreed.

“Alright have a good nap dude,” Will said in a teasing tone.

You pressed yourself further into the closet, holding your breath as the bedroom door clicked shut and you heard the sound of Will’s footsteps retreating. Gabe exhaled loudly, letting the tension in his shoulders finally drop, though he didn’t move to the closet door—didn’t even glance in your direction.

You waited a beat longer, just to make sure the coast was clear. The sound of Will’s retreating footsteps faded completely, leaving only the quiet hum of the ceiling fan and your own erratic breathing. Carefully, you eased the closet door open, peeking out first to make sure Gabe hadn’t moved from the bed—he hadn’t. His head was tipped back, eyes closed, chest rising and falling a little faster than normal from a mix of lingering adrenaline and drive from before Will came in.

You giggle softly, stepping over to the edge of the bed, the sunlight from the window brushing against your bare skin.

“So how badly did he ruin the moment?” you ask.

Gabe finally lifted his gaze, catching sight of your nude frame lit by the afternoon sun. His eyes trace your every curve, slowly blinking as he took in the sight of you.

“Not… not when you look like that,” he murmurs, voice rough with barely restrained desire, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly as a slow grin spreads across his face.

You can’t help but let your smile widen, enjoying the effect you have on him.

[minty86823]

子アヒルたちの水遊び

Ducklings Playing the River

[wannabehockeygf]

feel like mack is the type of boyfriend to “baby talk” and just be overall very soft with his gf in private but get superrrr embarrassed if that were mentioned/done in public or around his friends

behind closed doors, macklin is such a baby it’s actually unreal. like—soft-voiced, clingy, needy, nuzzly, little-sighs-and-pouty-lips baby. he does it without thinking, too. the second the door shuts behind him, the second he’s out of the rink and in your space, that whole “youngin' with something to prove” thing… melts. fully disintegrates. he just turns into this warm, affectionate, floppy-eared puppy of a boy who wants nothing more than to curl into your chest and be loved.

he’ll walk in, drop his bag on the floor, toe his shoes off without even untying them, and immediately go, “hi, my girl…” in this soft, rounded little voice he never uses around anyone else.

sometimes he wraps his arms around your waist from behind, face pressed into your shoulder, hair tickling your cheek, and mumbles, “miss’d you s’much,” like he’s half-asleep, half-feral, fully obsessed.

if he’s really tired—like post-practice, rosacea flared up from the cold, cheeks pink and blotchy—he’ll climb right onto your lap even if your lap is absolutely not big enough for him. he curls up like a jumbo-sized housecat, nose tucked under your jaw, messy hair sticking everywhere, and he does that pathetic little whine when you shift like you’re disrupting his peace.

“nooo, stay… i’m comfy…” all muffled and pouty.

and the baby talk? oh, he does that shit. he does it when he thinks you’re not paying attention. he does it when he’s sleep-dazed. he does it when he’s holding your face in both his palms and brushing his thumb along your bottom lip like you’re made of something precious.

once he even cooed, “you’re so cute, y’know that? my little sweetheart…” and then IMMEDIATELY hid his entire face in your chest like he could disappear into you because he realized what he said.

but that’s private macklin.

public macklin—rink macklin, locker-room macklin, shark-tank macklin—is another creature entirely. he tries so hard to act normal. tries to act cool. tries to be “yeah, i’m chill, i’m fine, totally not whipped out of my mind.”

if you even hint at his baby tendencies in front of his teammates, this boy malfunctions. fully glitches.

one time, will casually asked, “hey, is mack crashing at your place again tonight?” and before you could even answer, macklin practically dove across the hallway like a human shield.

“NO. no. no. i mean—maybe. like. not like that. shut up.”

the tips of his ears went scarlet. he started rubbing the back of his neck so aggressively you were worried he’d exfoliate himself bald.

and if you call him anything soft in public? like “baby,” “bub,” “honey,” even just a gentle “macky”—this boy freezes like a deer in headlights.

his eyes go wide. his cheeks go pink. he lets out this tiny strangled noise like “—huh?” then coughs way too loudly to cover it.

the guys would destroy him if they saw the way he melts when you hold his face and go, “c’mere, pretty boy.”

they would never let him live down the fact that he curls up in your lap like a toddler who missed naptime.

they would absolutely bully him for the way he lets you smush his cheeks—those ridiculously chubby little chipmunk cheeks—and he giggles. actually giggles.

the exact opposite of the stoic, promising-youngster persona they think he has.

if you ever accidentally slip into private-mode around the team—like one morning you brushed a crumb off his shirt and murmured, “baby, you’re such a mess”—macklin whipped around so fast he nearly got whiplash.

“DON’T—” he hissed under his breath, eyes wide with sheer panic, “don’t call me that here.”

but later, once the door clicked shut behind you two, he did that little pout, tugged on your hoodie sleeve like a child needing attention, and quietly mumbled, “you can call me that now… ’m not embarrassed here…”

he just wants to belong to you. fully, privately, shamelessly.

but the second anyone else sees? he combusts.

and honestly? you're okay with that.

[loislanesprotegee]

Johnny Sinclair in that white dress shirt with the cuffs rolled up and top button undone could get away with anything with me

[tw111lightluvr]

FOUR LEAF CLOVER [johnny sinclair fic]

synopsis : you and johnny sinclair have been best friends since you were little kids, but when you return to beechwood this summer, you can't help but notice johnny 'coincidentally' showing up every time you find a four leaf clover. is it fate or luck?

tropes: fem!reader x johnny sinclair, childhood friends to lovers, fluff, secret intentional encounters, summer romance, johnny being simpy :D, (not proofread bc im lazy)

you’ve known johnny sinclair since before beechwood started feeling like your escape from reality. before the liars became 'the liars.' before summers got heavy with things that no one dared to say out loud. he was just johnny back then, sunburnt cheeks, always barefoot, constantly halfway between teasing you and standing too close for two kids who are 'just friends.'

your mom used to joke that he followed you around like a lost puppy. you used to pretend you hated it, but you didn’t. you would never admit it to another soul, but you actually kinda liked it. but eventually, time did what it always does, especially on beechwood. it changed things, made shifts, everything became a little harder to read. but johnny? he stayed the same, at least in all the ways that mattered.

you find the first clover behind the country club. it wasn't planned, nothing ever really is on beechwood, not in the way people like to pretend. you’re standing alone in the grass behind the tennis courts, hiding from the competitive yelling of cady, gat, mirren, and johnny who are playing doubles. then, you see it. small, perfect, four leaves. you stare at it like it’s wrong, like you're imagining the fourth leaf, like your own eyes are deceiving you. feeling an overwhelming sense of intrigue, you lean down and pluck it from the ground.

y/n: no way...

???: what?

you jump slightly at the sudden noise. johnny is standing there, with a soft smile, hands tucked into his tennis shorts, sweat dripping down his temple, and eyes slightly squinting from the sun. you turn to face him quickly, hand instinctively finding it's way over your heart.

y/n: god johnny don't do that!

johnny: do what?

his smile widens and he squats down to your level. you shrug and quickly flail your arms around, trying to somehow communicate your thoughts without words.

y/n: i dont know? just... appear like that?!

he smiles a bit playfully.

johnny: i didn't appear, i walked.

you roll your eyes with a smile, then hold up the clover without thinking.

y/n: is this real?

his eyes flick to it, then to you. he slowly nods, lips curving downwards and eyebrows raising, then speaks casually.

johnny: yeah... looks like it.

he answers simply, like it doesn’t matter, but you notice the way he’s looking at you longer than the clover. like, to him, that's the part that matters more.

after that day, you start spotting them too often to ignore. the second clover near the tennis courts, then another by the dock, and one tucked into the spine of your copy of 'east of eden' you know you didn’t put there. you notice that every time you find one, johnny is there. not always right away, not always obvious, but very close.

one afternoon, the two of you are relaxing by the pool, waiting for the other liars to come down. you push your sunglasses up into your hair and turn to johnny with a knowing smile.

y/n: you're doing something, aren't you?

he’s laying down comfortably in his pool chair, arms crossed above his head, watching you like he has all summer. he smirks slightly, a mischievous look in his eyes, and shrugs slightly.

johnny: that’s vague.

you tilt your head down and give him a knowing look.

y/n: c'mon johnny, don’t play dumb!

he tilts his head backs at you, now smiling stupidly wide.

johnny: i'm not playing anything y/n!

you throw a chip at him with a growing grin on your face. you laugh slightly as johnny tries dodging it before you speak again.

y/n: the clovers.

johnny is still laughing as you speak, hand now holding the spot on his chest that the chip landed on. then, he smiles and asks innocently.

johnny: what about them?

you playfully narrow your eyes at him.

y/n: why are you placing them?

a beat passes. he looks at you like he’s deciding whether or not to lie. he shrugs casually, his smile widening as he speaks.

johnny: maybe you’re just lucky.

you scoff playfully, picking up another chip and threatening to throw it again.

y/n: that's your explanation?

he puts both his hands up in a mock surrender.

johnny: it works!

you shake your head, smiling, and pop the chip into your mouth, deciding to let it go for now. as cady, mirren, and gat come down with their bathing suits and towels, johnny laughs happily and gets back into his original position.

that evening, at the beach, you’re sitting in the sand, turning one of the clovers between your pointer finger and thumb when he drops down beside you. you look at him with a more serious expression.

y/n: tell me why.

he doesn’t move, he just watches you for a moment as you hold the clover up. only the crashing of waves can be heard as silence stretches for a moment, then he exhales softly.

johnny: you’re really not gonna let this go?

you force yourself to smile slightly and nod. he looks out at the water instead of at you and shrugs harder than usual, like he's actually unsure this time. the air between you shifts. he begins to speak, but there’s a hint of nervousness in his voice now.

johnny: that day at the country club, you just looked at that clover like it meant something.

you blink.

y/n: yeah, well, they’re four leaf clovers johnny.

he finally looks at you properly. sounding more unsure by the second.

johnny: yeah, but you looked happy.

that lands somewhere deeper than it should. for a moment, you don’t respond, you can't, you just sit there with it. johnny gives a small smile and, wanting to move on, begins to talk about the bonfire you and the liars are going to in an hour.

later that night, when you get back from the bonfire, you find the last one. it's tucked near your bag at the dock. you lean down and pick it up, twirling it between your fingers slowly. you turn to your right, and he’s already there, sitting at the edge near the water, like he’s been waiting for you longer than the night itself. you walk back, crossing to the other side, and speak quietly.

y/n: another one?

he looks up, eyes following you as you sit beside him and nods one.

johnny: yeah.

simple, but it makes your throat tighten slightly and heart race pick up. you look deeply into eyes, and ask again.

y/n: why johnny?

he holds your gaze for a long moment, and something about the way he does it feels different than previous summers.

johnny: because i like you y/n.

you blink once, caught off guard by his directness. you inhale sharply before speaking quietly.

y/n: you like me? since when?

initially, johnny doesn't say anything, just shrugs, holding his breath. when he decides to speak, his voice is shaky, like using all of his willpower to holding everything back.

johnny: since forever... before i can even remember.

you look at the clover in your hand, then use the other one to hold his cheek, smiling like an idiot.

y/n: you're stupid.

he looks shocked for a moment, then breaks out in a giant grin.

johnny: what?

your thumb strokes his cheek and you laugh softly before continuing.

y/n: i've always liked you too johnny... it's been really obvious, cady and mirren have been making fun of me since we were ten.

he lets out a small breath of a laugh and takes the hand that was holding his face and squeezes it gently in his lap. he studies you for a moment as you shift closer.

johnny: well... i'll be having a word with them later for not telling me.

you laugh softly as he used his other hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, smiling like he owns the world. there's a pause as you look into each other's eyes until you break the silence.

y/n: ...so what now?

he cups your face with both of his hands, smiling as he tilts his head.

johnny: now... i ask you properly. will you go out with me y/n?

you smile, nudging him teasingly before holding onto one of his hands on your cheek. you begin nodding before any words come out.

y/n: yeah, i will.

johnny has the biggest grin you've ever seen in your 17 years of knowing him. looking into his eyes, you lean in slightly, but he closes the gap before you can even get halfway. you both smile into the kiss and when you finally pull away, he exhales like he's been holding it in all summer. no more secrets hidden in clovers. just you and him on beechwood.

HEYYY!! bit of a shorter one BUTT it's bc i wrote the most detailed joseph zada x actress!reader fic and it DIDNT SAVE. it was actually so fun and i spent forever on it so i was heartbroken. but i wrote this fic instead to cope and actually really liked the theme of it, hopefully you guys do too. currently no plans to rewrite the other fic that got deleted js bc it was a lot and im so sad since it was almost done + had my movie stars smau lore </3 but here's another johnny fic ! i ended up loving this one and the style i wrote it in so it's okay i guessss </3 hope u have a good day/night! see you soon 🥹☘️🌈💘🏖️

[bedsyandco]

bedsy’s hands make me feral

the hands, the chain, the biceps, his awkward sense of humour. i need him so bad actually. but back to the hands … they’re big and they’re veiny and they need to be down or wrapped around your throat. he definitely knows the effect it has on you too, smirks every time he sees you get a little distracted by them. he’s such a hand on the thigh boyfriend as well. loves when you play the little game of tracing the veins on his hands, very soothing and relaxing. melts for the little kisses on his knuckles and calluses.

[samgirard]

↪ nathan mackinnon having tina foisted upon him on one of the worst days of his life | milano cortina 2026 | can vs. usa | 2.22.26

[littlesecrets712]

notice | ws2

pairing: will smith x f!reader

word count: 0.7k

warnings: scars but that's really it!

masterlist | requests are open/closed

a/n: another double post type of night because my drafts are simply stocked up🫡

the first time you really notice the scars on will’s hands, it’s late.

not late late, but late enough that the world outside his apartment windows has gone quiet and the only light in the room is the soft yellow glow from the lamp on the side table. the sharks game from earlier is replaying on the tv with the volume low, barely more than background noise.

you’re sitting cross-legged on the couch beside him, his arm slung lazily over the back cushion behind you.

and his hand is in yours.

it’s not unusual - will is always reaching for you somehow. fingers hooked in your belt loop, an arm around your shoulders, your hand tucked into his hoodie pocket when you’re walking somewhere cold. he just likes being close.

but tonight you’re really looking.

his hands are big. warm. a little rough around the edges from years of sticks and tape and ice and gloves. and when you run your thumb over his knuckles, you feel it - the thin raised lines.

scars.

“what?” will murmurs.

you didn’t realize you’d been staring.

his voice is soft and a little amused, blonde curls falling over his forehead as he glances down at you. you’re still holding his hand in both of yours.

“nothing,” you say quietly.

but your thumb traces one of the lines again. this one runs across the side of his index finger, pale against the rest of his skin.

will notices.

of course he does.

he flips his hand over in yours, letting you look as much as you want, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“hockey,” he says simply.

you huff a quiet laugh. “i figured.”

your finger follows another one across the back of his hand, smaller, almost hidden near his knuckle.

“does it hurt?” you ask.

“nope,” he shrugs, like it’s nothing.

like the marks scattered across his hands aren’t little pieces of years of hard practices and blocked shots and sticks coming down at the wrong angle.

your touch softens even more.

you trace them slowly, gently, like you’re mapping something important.

will goes very still beside you.

the tv keeps playing. a car passes outside somewhere. but the room feels quieter somehow.

“you’re being careful,” he says after a moment.

you glance up at him, “shouldn’t i be?”

will smiles - the kind that crinkles the corners of his eyes, “they’re just scars.”

“they’re your hands,” you reply simply.

that does something to him.

you can see it in the way his shoulders relax, the way he looks at you like you’ve just said the most unbelievable thing.

your thumb drifts over another mark on his palm.

“this one?” you ask.

will leans his head back against the couch, “high school,” he says. “blocked a shot wrong.”

you wince.

he laughs softly.

“pretty girl,” he murmurs, squeezing your hand, “you look more upset about it than i was.”

“well,” you mumble, tracing the edge of the scar again, “maybe you should’ve been.”

will turns his head to look at you properly now.

really look.

you’re still focused on his hand, brows slightly knit together in concentration like this is the most important task in the world.

his chest feels warm in that quiet, overwhelming way he’s starting to realize only you cause.

“you know,” he says softly.

you hum in response.

“most people don’t even notice those.”

your fingers pause for a second before continuing their slow path across his knuckles.

“i notice everything about you,” you say, almost absentmindedly.

will exhales a quiet laugh under his breath.

not teasing this time.

something softer.

his free hand comes up, gently tilting your chin until you’re looking at him instead of his hands.

his thumb brushes your cheek.

“yeah?” he says.

you nod a little.

his smile is small but bright.

“good,” he murmurs.

then he slips his fingers between yours, lacing your hands together before bringing your knuckles up to his lips.

a quick kiss.

“because i notice everything about you too, pretty girl.”

[hyunjinvoid]

sending out a plea for requests ... really feeling hockey rn so any requests for bedsy mack smitty or any of the hughes bros are perfectly welcome

[0shark-yaps]

Happy puppies roughhouse!!

[evieesgoneinsane]

sigh, my goats are so dumb

S: “hands in the air, and then you just give it a little shimmy-shake!”