Quinn x shy!reader just the tip (because reader‘s a LOUD one) but ofc it doesn’t stay at just the tip and Jack & Luke hear them and tease them endlessly the next morning
Quiet Lake House
pairing: Quinn Hughes x shy!reader
description: You should‘ve known that just the tip wasn‘t going to be good enough.
TW: Smut, MDNI, unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), shy reader, brotherly teasing, established relationship.
masterlist
The bathroom door clicks shut behind you, releasing a cloud of steam into the cool bedroom. You're wrapped in a towel, your skin still damp and flushed from your hot shower.
Quinn is already in bed, propped up against the headboard, the low light of the bedside lamp carving shadows across his tense frame. He's been like this all day, a quiet, coiled spring of energy, watching you with an intensity that made your skin prickle and your thighs clench.
You move to the dresser, pulling out one of his shirts and a pair of soft shorts. "You okay?" you ask softly, your back still to him as you drop the towel and quickly pull on your clothes. "You've been quiet all day."
He lets out a long breath. "I'm more than okay, now that I finally have you alone." His voice is a bit rougher than usual. "It's just been... hard."
You turn, confused. "Hard? What do you mean?"
He swings his legs over the side of the bed, standing up. "Hard to watch you all day and not touch you. Hard to see you in that tiny fucking bikini this morning, water droplets glistening on your skin, knowing I had to keep my hands to myself. Hard to watch you laugh with my brothers, looking so fucking beautiful and happy it hurts and not pull you aside and kiss you senseless."
Your cheeks heat. "I... I didn't realize."
"Of course you didn't," he says, closing the distance between you. He stops directly in front of you, so close you can feel the heat radiating from his body. "You were just being you. That's what makes it so fucking hot. You don't even know what you do to me. That little sundress you changed into for dinner... the way it brushed against your thighs every time you moved... I spent the entire meal imagining what was underneath."
You swallow hard, your heart starting to race. "Quinn..."
"Then by the fire," he continues, his voice dropping to a gravelly whisper. "The way you leaned your head on my shoulder, the way you kept playing with my fingers, so casual, so innocent and all I could think was, 'That's my girl. That's the girl I haven't been able to touch properly for days.' It's been torture, baby. Absolute fucking torture."
His hands come to rest on your hips, his grip firm. "Do you have any idea how many times I had to adjust myself today? How many cold showers I've taken this week? How many times I've imagined bending you over every surface in this house?"
Your breath hitches. "You... you thought about… about that?"
"All day," he admits, his thumbs stroking circles on your hips. "In the water, watching you splash around with Luke, all I could think about was dragging you behind the boathouse and fucking you against the wall. During dinner, I was planning all the things I'd do to you once we were alone. By the fire, I was imagining spreading you out on that rug and making you scream my name."
He leans in, his lips hovering just above yours. "I've missed you so much. Missed being inside you, missed feeling you around me, missed watching you fall apart in my arms. Three days might not seem like long, but when you're used to having this perfect little pussy whenever you want... it's an eternity."
His lips finally meet yours in a hungry, possessive kiss. His tongue sweeps into your mouth, tasting you, devouring you. You melt against him, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, holding on as he kisses you senseless.
It's filthy, all teeth and tongue and saliva, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you flush against him so you can feel the hard ridge of his erection pressing against your stomach.
He walks you backward until your legs hit the edge of the bed and then he's lifting you, laying you down against the pillows without breaking the kiss. His body covers yours, immediately grinding against you, his need for you evident in every movement.
"Need to taste you," he murmurs against your mouth. "Need to remind myself that you’re still my girl."
He kisses his way down your body, his mouth hot and wet against your skin. He pulls your shirt over your head, his eyes dark with desire as they sweep over your bare breasts. "Fuck, look at you. So perfect."
His mouth descends on your breast, his tongue swirling around your nipple before he sucks it into his mouth. You cry out, back arching as pleasure shoots through you. His hand finds your other breast, rolling and pinching your nipple until you're writhing beneath him.
"Quinn," you gasp, your hands fisting in his hair. "Please..."
"Please what, baby?" he asks, his voice muffled against your skin. "Tell me what you want."
"I-I don't know," you stammer, embarrassed by your own desire for him, embarrassed by how much you need him.
His fingers hook into your shorts, sliding them down slowly. You lift your hips to help, suddenly shy under his intense gaze. He spreads your legs, settling between them with a groan.
“I think you do." He nips at your inner thigh, making you gasp at the slight sting. "I think you want me to taste you properly. Fuck, just look at you," he breathes, his thumbs parting your folds. "So wet for me already."
You whimper, covering your face with your hands. "Quinn..."
"No hiding," he says, gently pulling your hands away. "I want to see you. You don’t get to hide your beautiful face from me. Not tonight, not ever."
Before you can respond, he's pulling your panties aside, his tongue delving into your wet heat. You cry out, hands fisting in the sheets as he licks and sucks, driving you mad with pleasure. It's overwhelming, intense in the best way and you can barely breathe as pleasure builds inside you.
"Missed this," he growls against you, his tongue exploring every fold and crevice. "Missed how responsive you are, how you taste, how you moan my name when I fuck you just right."
He's like a man possessed, lapping at your clit, sucking it into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue until you're writhing beneath him. His fingers join his mouth, one, then two, sliding inside you, curling to hit that spot that makes you clench around him.
"Quinn," you gasp, "I can't..."
"Yes, you fucking can," he growls against you, his fingers pumping in and out of you. "Come for me, baby. Want to feel you come all over my fucking face."
He sucks your clit into his mouth, nibbling on it and the feel of his teeth on you, so sudden and unexpected, push you over the edge as your pussy pulses against his mouth.
He doesn't stop licking you through your orgasm until you're writhing and oversensitive from all the pleasure.
"Please," you beg, "no more..."
He looks up at you, his face glistening with your arousal. "No more? Baby, I'm just getting started. You don't get to keep this pussy away from me for three days and expect me to be satisfied with one orgasm."
His mouth lowers again, even hungrier this time. He's pussy drunk, lost in the taste and feel of you, his tongue delving deeper, his fingers stretching you wider.
"Missed being able to have you like this," he murmurs, his tongue swirling around your clit. "Missed having you underneath me, soaking my face, moaning my name. Missed waking you up with my head between your legs, your pussy the first thing I taste.“
He sucks your folds into his mouth, his tongue exploring every inch of you. "You don't understand what you do to me. How crazy you make me. How hard I get just thinking about you."
His fingers find that spot again, rubbing insistently as his tongue works your clit. "You‘ve been on my mind all day," he growls. "All I could think about was getting you alone, getting my mouth on you, reminding myself who this pussy belongs to."
You're lost in sensation, overwhelmed by his intensity, by the sheer force of his need for you. You can feel another orgasm building, even more intense this time.
"Quinn," you gasp, "I'm gonna..."
"Come for me," he demands, his voice rough with desire. "Want to taste you, want to feel you pulse against my tongue."
He sucks your clit into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue just the way you like and you shatter again, a silent scream tearing from your throat as waves of pleasure wash over you.
Finally, he lifts his head, his face glistening with your arousal. "Fuck," he breathes, his eyes dark with satisfaction. "That's what I've been missing."
He moves up your body, his mouth claiming yours in a filthy kiss. You can taste yourself on his lips, on his tongue and it's the most intimate, arousing thing you've ever experienced.
He looks down at you, his face still glistening with your arousal. "I need to have you," he says, his voice rough with need. "Just the tip. Just need to feel you, please? It's been too long. Need to have you."
You hesitate, mind hazy with pleasure. "We can't," you whisper. "Your brothers will hear."
A wicked grin spreads across his face. "My brothers will hear? That's what you're worried about?" He leans down, his lips brushing against your ear. "Don't worry, baby. I'll keep you quiet."
You nod, too blissed out to protest as he positions himself between your legs. His cock presses against your entrance, thick and hard and you gasp as he pushes in, just the tip breaching you.
"Fuck," he groans, his forehead resting against yours. "So tight... so wet..."
You moan as he moves shallowly, just the tip stretching you. It's not enough, but it's overwhelming at the same time. "Quinn..."
"Feel good, baby?" he asks, his voice strained.
You squirm beneath him, needing more. "More," you finally manage to gasp out. "Please, Quinn, I need more..."
He chuckles, a low, predatory sound that has you clenching around him. "But I thought we couldn't, baby? I thought you were scared that my brothers would hear?" He teases, his voice dripping with mockery. "Make up your mind. You can't have it both ways."
Your cheeks burn with embarrassment. "Please," you whisper, "Please, Quinn… I‘ll be... I‘ll be quiet.“
"As you wish, my love," he says, pushing deeper in one smooth thrust. You cry out at the sudden feeling of him inside you, back arching as he fills. He's so thick, stretching you in the most delicious way. "Fuck," you gasp, nails digging into his shoulders.
"Too much?" he asks, a cocky smirk on his face.
"No," you pant, "don't stop..."
He doesn’t. He begins to move, slow and deep at first, then faster, harder. The bed creaks beneath you as he pounds into you, his hips snapping against yours. You're lost in sensation, unable to do anything but take what he gives you.
"Do you hear that?“ he murmurs, his voice smug. "How wet you are... how well you‘re taking me... I bet they can hear how wet your pussy is from next door."
You blush, hiding your face against his neck. "Quinn," you gasp, "they'll hear..."
"Let them," he says, his pace quickening. "Let them hear how well I'm fucking you... how good you take my fucking cock..."
He shifts angles, hitting that spot deep inside that has you clawing at his back, leaving red angry marks.
"Right there, huh?" he asks, his voice laced with arrogance. "You love it when I fuck you deep, don't you? When I pound you into the mattress like this?"
He demonstrates with a particularly hard thrust that steals your breath and has your walls fluttering around him. "Quinn I'm gonna..."
"Come for me, baby," he growls, his fingers finding your clit. "Come all over my cock..."
You shatter with a scream, pleasure washing over you in waves. He follows you over the edge with a groan, burying himself deep as he spills inside you. You can feel him pulsing, filling you up until it's dripping out, making a mess on the sheets below you.
He collapses on top of you, both of you breathing heavily before he rolls to the side, pulling you with him. You're still trembling, wrapped in his arms as he kisses your forehead.
"Sleep, baby," he murmurs, his voice soft. "I've got you."
The next morning, you wake alone, Quinn already up and in the kitchen. You dress quickly, making your way downstairs where you find the three brothers in the kitchen.
"Well, well, well," Jack calls out as you enter. "Look who's finally awake."
Luke smirks over his coffee. "Rough night? You look exhausted."
Your cheeks burn as you head for the coffee pot. Quinn appears behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. "Morning, beautiful."
"Morning," you mumble, leaning back against him as he kisses your neck.
Jack grins. "Someone had a good night. Or should I say, a loud night."
You hide your face against Quinn's chest, absolutely mortified by Jack‘s words. "We weren't… we didn’t..."
Luke laughs. "Oh, you were. Trust me. I think they heard you in the next county."
"Leave her alone," Quinn says, though there's no real heat in his voice. He's practically radiating satisfaction as he tightens his arms around you.
Jack just smirks, taking a sip of his coffee. "Come on, bro. You can't be that loud and expect us not to notice. Sounded like you were trying to break the bed."
Luke chokes on his eggs, laughing. "Break the bed? More like break her. Seriously, I thought the headboard was going to come through the wall."
Your face is on fire. You try to pull away, to hide somewhere, but Quinn holds you firm against him, his chin resting on your head. "Stop it," you whisper, your voice barely audible.
"Stop what?" Jack asks innocently. "We're just concerned for your well-being. And the structural integrity of the house."
Quinn chuckles, kissing the top of your head. "Don't listen to them. They're just jealous they're not getting any."
"Jealous?" Luke scoffs. "Of what? The hearing damage? I'm pretty sure my ears are still ringing."
You bury your face deeper into Quinn's chest, wishing the floor would swallow you whole. "I can never look into their faces again," you mumble against his shirt.
Quinn's hand rubs soothing circles on your back. "They're just teasing, baby. Don't let them get to you."
"Teasing?" Jack raises an eyebrow. "We're making observations. Like how you two were going at it for what, hours? I lost track after the first hour."
"An hour?" Luke laughs. "Try three. I had to put headphones on to get to sleep."
"At least we know she's satisfied," Quinn says, his voice dripping with smugness. "Can't say the same for you two."
Jack grins. "Oh, we know she's satisfied. We heard that loud and clear. Multiple times. In fact, I think I can still hear her begging for more."
Your cheeks burn even hotter at his words. You did beg, didn't you? You begged Quinn for more, for harder, for deeper...
Quinn's arms tighten around you. "Alright, that's enough. You don’t need to make another comment about my girl, I think we got the memo."
"Can we please talk about something else?" you ask, your voice small, hoping to change topics and not die of embarrassment.
"Sure," Luke says, though his grin tells you he's not done teasing. "We can talk about how Quinn's been walking around all morning like he just won the Stanley Cup. Or how you're walking a little funny."
Quinn gives Luke a pointed look which makes the younger brother shut up. At least for a little while. Quinn steers you toward the table and starts plating your breakfast.
"Look at him," Jack whispers to Luke. "All domestic and shit. Taking care of his girl after he thoroughly wrecked her."
"I always take care of my girl," Quinn replies, his eyes fixed on you. "Especially after I kept her up all night."
You cover your face with your hands, wishing you could disappear. "I hate you all," you mumble.
"No, you don't," Luke says, his tone softening slightly. "But you might want to invest in a gag for next time. For our sake."
Sid eating you out through your panties under a skirt until they’re soaked and practically see through 😮💨 PLEASE WRITE THIS
Soaked Through
pairing: Sidney Crosby x younger!reader
TW: Smut, MDNI, oral sex (f receiving), dominant Sid, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, established relationship.
masterlist
The leather of the couch sticks to the back of your thighs as you watch Sidney move around the living room. He's just getting home from a game, his movements still carrying that powerful grace, even when he's tired.
You're wearing one of his old t-shirts and a skirt, a choice that now feels like you made it on purpose, though it wasn't.
He stops in front of you, his eyes sweeping over you, lingering on the hem of your skirt where it rests high on your thighs.
"Come here, sweet girl," he says. And it’s not a request.
You slide off the couch, your bare feet silent on the hardwood floor. When you reach him, his hands immediately go to your hips, pulling you flush against his body.
"Missed you," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your temple. "Need you, my sweet girl."
You can only hum in response, your body already pliant under his touch. His hands slide down, cupping your ass, pulling you even closer. You can feel him, already hard and throbbing, pressing against your stomach.
"Get on the couch," he commands, his voice low and rough. "On your back. Legs spread."
You obey without hesitation, scrambling onto the leather cushions. You settle back, your head on the armrest and let your knees fall open.
The skirt bunches around your hips, exposing the thin cotton of your panties. They're a simple pale blue, nothing fancy, but the way Sidney looks at them makes you feel like you're wearing the most expensive lingerie in the world.
He kneels on the floor between your legs, his broad shoulders pushing your thighs even wider. He doesn't say anything, just looks, his eyes tracing the outline of your pussy through the fabric. You can feel yourself getting wet under his gaze, your body responding to his presence like a flower to the sun.
"Stay still for me, baby," he warns, his hands gripping your inner thighs, holding you open. "Don't move. I need you to be good for me."
Then he leans down and presses his mouth against you.
The first touch is immaculate. Even through the fabric, the heat of his mouth is overwhelming. He's not gentle, not teasing. He's devouring you, his tongue pressing against the cotton, seeking out your clit. You gasp, your hips bucking involuntarily.
"I said stay still," he growls, his grip tightening on your thighs. "Don't make me repeat myself."
You whimper an apology, forcing your body to relax back into the couch. He rewards your obedience by resuming his assault, his tongue tracing circles around your clit, the friction of the fabric against your sensitive flesh driving you insane.
You can feel the fabric getting wetter, your arousal soaking through the cotton. Sidney seems to notice too, his movements becoming more aggressive.
He's sucking now, his lips closing around your clit, the wet fabric adding an extra layer of stimulation that has you panting and your thighs trembling.
"Sidneyyyy," you whine, your hands tangling in his hair. "Please."
He doesn't answer, just continues his assault on your leaking pussy, his tongue relentless. You can feel the pressure building, your body tensing as you approach your first orgasm. But just as you're about to tip over the edge, he pulls away.
"No, no, no," you cry out, your body trembling with need. "Please, don't stop."
He smirks, his chin glistening with your wetness. "Not yet," he says, his voice smug. "I'm not done playing for your little pussy yet, sweet girl."
He leans back in, but this time, his focus shifts lower. He's licking you through the fabric, his tongue tracing the length of your slit, from your entrance to your clit and back again.
Your panties are practically see-through now, soaked through with your arousal, clinging to your folds.
"Look at that," he murmurs, his breath hot against your core. "So fucking wet for me. You're soaking through your panties, baby. Making a mess all over my face."
You can only whimper in response, your hips arching off the couch, seeking more friction. He chuckles, a low, dirty sound that goes straight to your core.
"Greedy little thing," he teases, his tongue flicking out to taste you again. "Can't get enough of my mouth, can you?"
He's right. You can't. You're completely at his mercy, your body a live wire of sensation. Every flick of his tongue, every press of his lips, sends shockwaves of pleasure through you.
You're so close, so close, but he keeps pulling back, denying you the release you so desperately crave.
"Please, Sid," you beg, tears of frustration pricking at your eyes. "Please let me come. I'll be good, I promise."
He considers your plea for a moment, his eyes dark with desire. "Alright," he finally concedes. "But you're going to come just like this. And you're not going to close your legs until I say so. Understand?"
You nod eagerly, your body trembling with anticipation. He smirks, clearly pleased by your submission and then he's back on you.
And this time, he doesn't hold back. He's sucking, licking, nipping, his mouth working you with a single-minded focus that has you seeing stars.
The wet fabric is rasping against your sensitive flesh, the stimulation almost too much to bear.
You can feel the pressure building again, stronger this time. Your body is shaking, your breaths coming in short, sharp pants. You're babbling now, a stream of incoherent pleas and praises, your mind too foggy with pleasure to form coherent thoughts.
"That's it, baby," he encourages, his voice muffled by your pussy. "Come for me. Come all over my face. Soak these pretty panties even more."
His words are your undoing. The orgasm crashes through you, leaving you a trembling, whimpering mess. Your back arches off the couch, your hands fisting in his hair as you grind against his mouth, riding out the waves of pleasure.
But he doesn't stop. He continues to lick you, his tongue pushing you past the point of pleasure and into a realm of almost painful overstimulation. You're sobbing now, your body convulsing with each stroke of his tongue.
"Please, Sid, I can't," you cry, trying to push his head away. "It's too much."
"Shh, baby, you can," he soothes, his voice gentle but firm. "One more. Give me one more."
He shifts his position slightly, his tongue finding a new angle, a new spot that has you moaning his name all over again. You're shaking uncontrollably now, as you feel another orgasm building.
"Please, please, please," you chant, your voice broken and hoarse. "I'm gonna… I'm gonna…"
"Come for me," he commands, his voice a low growl against your core. "Now."
The second orgasm tears through you, more powerful than the first. You scream his name, your body arching off the couch, your vision going white with pleasure. You're completely lost, your mind blank, your body nothing but a vessel for the overwhelming sensations coursing through it.
This time, when you come down, he finally pulls away, giving you a moment to breathe. You're a mess, a trembling, sobbing, whimpering mess, but you've never felt more satisfied in your life.
Sidney climbs onto the couch, pulling you into his arms. You curl against his chest, your body still shaking with the aftershocks of your orgasms. He holds you close, his hands stroking your back, his lips pressing soft kisses against your hair.
"You okay, baby?" he asks, his voice gentle.
You can only manage a weak nod, your face buried in his chest.
"Good," he says, his hand sliding down to cup your ass. "Because we're not done yet."
You whimper, your body already responding to his touch. He's insatiable tonight and you wouldn't have it any other way.
excuse the fuck out of me???? people are just so rude nowdays do and touch some grass and stop being a fucking hater. If you have something to say don’t do it anonymously
i haven't stopped looking at this photo of will since it came out. please..... i need some smut
https://x.com/i/status/2080815458031435915
Bare
pairing: Will Smith x female reader
description: Will looks a bit too good in a suit.
CW: Smut, mdni, dry-humping, unprotected sex.
The front door barely clicks shut before you're on him, fingers wrapping around his silk tie. You yank him down, crushing your mouth against his. Will tastes like champagne and mint, his lips parting instantly as your tongue delves inside. His hands grip your waist, pulling you flush against his body.
"God, I've been wanting to do that all night," he groans against your lips.
You walk backward, pulling him with you toward the couch. His suit is still perfectly pressed, but his hair is already disheveled from your fingers. When your knees hit the sofa edge, he shifts, settling onto the cushions before dragging you onto his lap.
Your hips roll instinctively, grinding against the fabric of his trousers. Will's breath hitches as he feels the heat radiating through the expensive material. His hands slide up your thighs, pushing the hem of your dress higher until...
His fingers freeze. "Wait a second..."
You smirk against his jawline. "Problem?"
"You're not..." His eyes widen as his fingers confirm what he suspected. "You're not wearing anything under this dress."
"Couldn't," you murmur, nipping at his earlobe. "The fabric was too thin."
Will pulls back just enough to look you in the eye, his expression dark with lust. "So you're telling me my girl sat through that entire wedding next to me, bare pussy and all?"
His hands grip your hips, guiding you to grind harder against him. The friction builds, your wetness spreading across his trousers. Each roll of your hips sends jolts of pleasure through you, his erection pressing insistently against your core.
"Will," you gasp, fingers fumbling with his shirt buttons. "Please..."
He helps you, popping buttons until his chest is exposed. You push his shirt open, running your hands over his warm skin. His fingers work at his belt, then his zipper, and suddenly there's nothing between you.
You lift yourself slightly, positioning him at your entrance before sinking down. Both of you moan at the sensation of him stretching you. His hands grip your ass as you begin to move, setting a rhythm that's anything but gentle.
The tie hangs loose around his neck and you grab it, using it to pull him up for another kiss. His hips buck upward, meeting your movements with equal urgency.
The couch creaks beneath you, but neither of you cares.
"Fuck," he pants against your mouth. "You feel incredible."
You respond by grinding down harder, taking him deeper. His hands slide up your back, tangling in your hair as he captures your lips again. The kiss is messy, desperate, teeth clashing occasionally as you both chase release.
When you finally break apart, breathless and panting, Will's eyes are dark with need. "Come for me," he growls, thumb finding your clit. "Right now."
The added stimulation sends you over the edge and your back arches, mouth falling open in a silent scream as waves of pleasure crash over you. Will follows moments later, his grip tightening as he buries himself deep inside you.
"Next time," he murmurs against your lips, "we're skipping the reception entirely."
let´s ignore that he is wearing a bow-tie and that i went with a normal one (sorry)
Ben Kindel x reader where Ben gets hurt during a game and reader takes care of him afterwards
After the Whistle
pairing: Ben Kindel x female reader
description: You take care of Ben after he returns home injured
CW: Mention of sports injury, fluff.
The front door clicks open and you watch as Ben tries to kick off his skate guards with his good leg.
"Whoa, hey, don't do that," you say, rushing over to steady him. His left arm is held stiffly at his side, cradled against the dark fabric of his jacket. His face is pale, a tight line where his easy smile usually lives.
"'M fine," he mumbles, but the way he leans into your touch betrays him. "Just a little banged up."
You help him limp to the couch, easing him down onto the cushions. "A little banged up doesn't usually require the team trainer to help you into your car, Ben."
He winces as he settles back, his head falling against the pillows. "You saw that?"
"Saw the trainer practically carry you? Yeah, I saw that." You kneel in front of him, gently prying at the buttons on his jacket. "Let me see."
He lets out a heavy sigh but doesn't fight you as you carefully peel back the layers. His shirt underneath is already wrinkled and you can see the tension in his shoulder even before you get to the skin. When you finally push the fabric aside, you suck in a breath.
His shoulder is already starting to bruise, angry purples and deep reds blooming across his skin. It's swollen too, the joint looking puffy and wrong.
"Okay," you say softly, your fingers hovering just above the discoloration. "That's not just a little banged up."
Ben's eyes are closed, his jaw clenched. "Doc thinks it's a separation. Maybe a second-degree. We'll know more after the MRI tomorrow."
You nod, your mind already working. "Ice or heat first?"
"Ice," he breathes out. "Lots of ice."
You disappear into the kitchen, returning with a bag of frozen peas wrapped in a dish towel. You press it gently against his shoulder and Ben hisses at the initial contact before relaxing into the cold.
"Better?" you ask, adjusting the bag.
He nods, his eyes finally opening to look at you. "Yeah. Thanks."
You settle on the edge of the couch, one hand resting on his good knee. "You played hard after it happened, didn't you?"
"Third period," he admits. "Tried to fight through it. Stupid."
"Not stupid," you correct. "Just hockey."
A faint smile touches his lips. "Yeah. Just hockey."
For a while, you just sit there in silence, the only sound Ben's steady breathing. You watch the tension slowly leave his face as the cold works its magic, his features softening back into the Ben you know.
"Can you get my pills?" he asks eventually. "In my bag. The blue ones."
You find his bag by the door, rummaging through until you locate the prescription bottle. You shake out two pills and fetch him a glass of water, watching as he swallows them with difficulty.
"Thanks," he says again, his voice softer now, heavy with exhaustion.
"Anytime," you reply, taking the glass from him and setting it on the coffee table. "You want me to help you change? Or sleep in that?"
He manages a weak laugh. "Definitely not sleeping in this."
Getting him out of his clothes and into something comfortable is a careful process of movements and pauses, of him gritting his teeth against the pain and you murmuring quiet apologies. When he's finally dressed in a soft t-shirt and sweatpants, you help him lie down, propping his shoulder on extra pillows.
"You're staying, right?" he asks as you pull a blanket over him.
You smooth the fabric over his chest, your fingers lingering for a moment. "Of course I'm staying, baby."
He reaches out with his good hand, his fingers wrapping around yours. "Good."
You settle into the armchair beside the couch, watching as his breathing evens out and his grip on your hand loosens. The ice pack has slipped down to his elbow now and you gently move it back into place. In the dim light of the living room, his face looks peaceful, the pain lines smoothed away in sleep.
You'll be here when he wakes up, ready to get him more ice or water or whatever else he needs. Because that's what you do. That's what you've always done.
I love the idea of Quinn with an incredibly shy girl who is still getting used to be around his family, especially Jack and Luke. They all go to the lake house and she constantly clings to Quinn. One of the boys catches them making out by the side of the house one day and she gets super embarrassed and keeps burying her face in Quinn's shoulder when they bring it up.
Love your writing!
Lakeside Sanctuary
pairing: Quinn Hughes x shy!reader
description: You find comfort in Quinn's protective embrace at the lake house after his brothers catch you making out.
TW: Fluff, kissing, teasing, shy reader, established relationship.
masterlist
The summer air at the Hughes lake house is warm and thick with the scent of pine and water. For most, it's paradise. For you, it's a beautiful sort of torture. You love watching Quinn relax, the hard lines of his face softening as he laughs with his brothers. But being here, surrounded by his loud, loving, and incredibly athletic family, feels like being on display.
Your fingers curl into the sleeve of Quinn's t-shirt as Jack and Luke's voices boom from the dock, arguing good-naturedly about who can skip a stone farther. Quinn feels your tension and shifts, wrapping an arm securely around your waist and pulling you back against his chest. His chin rests on your shoulder, and his breath is warm against your ear.
"Hey," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through you. "You okay?"
You just nod, not trusting your voice. It's not that they're unkind—they've been nothing but welcoming. It's just... a lot. Jack's boundless energy feels like a physical force, and Luke's quiet, observant gaze makes you feel like he's dissecting your every awkward movement.
Quinn's thumb rubs soothing circles on your hip. "They're just being idiots. Ignore them."
You lean into him, letting his solid presence anchor you. He's your safe harbor in the chaotic sea of the Hughes family. He always knows exactly what you need without you having to say a word. Later, when everyone is scattered around the living room, he'll whisper stories about their childhood, making you feel like you're part of their history, too.
"Want to go for a walk?" he asks, his lips brushing against your temple.
You nod again, grateful for the escape. He takes your hand, his fingers lacing with yours, and leads you away from the noise of the lake and toward the quiet side of the house, shielded by a row of tall cedar trees.
The moment you're out of sight, the tension in your shoulders eases. It's just you and Quinn and the sound of crickets beginning their evening song. He stops, turning to face you, and gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.
"Better?" he asks, his brown eyes soft.
You offer a small, genuine smile. "Better."
He leans down, and you meet him halfway. The kiss starts soft, a gentle press of his lips against yours. It's familiar and comforting, a quiet affirmation in a world that feels too loud sometimes. His hand moves from your hip to the small of your back, pressing you closer. You sigh into his mouth, your hands sliding up his chest to loop around his neck.
The kiss deepens, losing its gentle edge and becoming something more needy. His tongue traces your bottom lip, and you open for him willingly. The world narrows to this—to the taste of him, the feel of his strong body against yours, the way his hand tightens on your back. It's easy to forget everything else when he kisses you like this, like you're the only person who matters.
"Whoa, get a room, you two!"
The voice, unmistakably Jack's, cuts through the haze like a bucket of ice water. You wrench yourself away from Quinn with a gasp, your face instantly flooding with heat. Jack and Luke are standing not ten feet away, Jack with a wide, shit-eating grin and Luke looking somewhere between amused and apologetic.
"Oh my god," you breathe, immediately turning and burying your flaming face in the solid comfort of Quinn's shoulder. You can't look at them. You want the ground to swallow you whole.
Quinn's arms wrap around you, holding you tight against him. You can feel the low vibration of his chuckle in his chest. "Don't you two have anything better to do?"
"Not when there's live entertainment," Jack chirps, and you can hear the grin in his voice. You press your face harder into Quinn's shirt, wishing you could disappear.
"Leave her alone, Jack," Luke says, though he sounds like he's laughing.
"I'm not doing anything! I'm just appreciating my brother's... technique."
Your entire body feels like it's on fire. This is officially the most embarrassing moment of your life.
"Alright, that's enough," Quinn says, his voice still laced with amusement. He starts walking, practically carrying you as you refuse to lift your head from its hiding spot. "Go bother someone else."
You hear them laughing as Quinn leads you back toward the house. He doesn't let you go, even when you're safely inside the kitchen. He just holds you, one hand stroking your hair.
"You can look up now," he murmurs after a moment. "They're gone."
You slowly lift your head, peeking at him. His expression is so fond, so full of love, that it makes your heart ache. He gently brushes a thumb across your still-warm cheek.
"They're never going to let me live that down," you mumble, your voice muffled against his neck.
"Probably not," he agrees, pressing a soft kiss to your hairline. "But you're so cute when you're embarrassed."
You groan, but it's half-hearted. Being held like this, with him looking at you like you hung the moon, makes even the most humiliating moments feel worth it. He tilts your chin up, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiles.
"I love you," he says, simple and true. "Even when you're using me as a human shield."
You can't help but smile back, the last of your embarrassment melting away under the warmth of his gaze. "I love you, too."
The cabin is nestled among towering pines made of wood and stone that seem to exist outside of time. As Will carries your bags inside, you can't help but feel a thrill of excitement.
This is it. Just the two of you. For an entire week.
"I'll give you the grand tour," he says, setting your bags down in the spacious living room. His hand finds the small of your back as he guides you through the cabin, pointing out the cozy fireplace, the fully stocked kitchen and the massive windows that overlook the forest.
"It's perfect, Will," you breathe, turning to face him. "Better than I imagined."
His eyes crinkle with a smile. "Nothing but the best for you."
The first few days melt into a blissful routine of lazy mornings and sun-drenched afternoons. Will insists on cooking every meal, shooing you away whenever you try to help.
"I've got it," he says, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead as he chops vegetables for dinner. "Just relax. Let me take care of you."
You spend hours cuddled up on the couch together, watching movies or just talking, his arm draped across your shoulders, fingers tracing patterns on your arm.
At night, you fall asleep in his bed, his body curled protectively around yours, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling you into peaceful slumber.
On the fourth day, Will suggests a hike to a nearby outlook. The trail winds through the forest, sunlight filtering through the trees and casting Will in a beautiful golden glow.
As you navigate a particularly steep section, his hand slips from yours to your waist, steadying you.
"Careful there," he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear. "Can't have my favorite person falling on my watch."
You roll your eyes but lean into his touch. "I think I can manage, but thanks for the concern."
He just chuckles, his fingers lingering on your hip even after the trail has leveled out.
When you reach the outlook, the view takes your breath away. A panoramic view of mountains and valleys stretches before you, bathed in the golden afternoon light.
"Wow," you whisper, moving to the edge of the overlook. "This is incredible."
"Not as incredible as you," Will says quietly behind you.
You turn to find him already pulling out his phone. "Come here," he says, beckoning you over. "Let me get a picture of this view."
You pose against the backdrop of mountains, the wind whipping your hair across your face. Will captures several shots before setting his phone down.
"Your turn," you say, reaching for his phone. "Let me get one of you."
He shakes his head, pulling you close instead. "No. Us."
He angles the phone, capturing both of you against the stunning backdrop. His arm wraps tightly around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder as he snaps the photo. You're laughing, head tilted back against his chest, while he looks at the camera with a soft smile.
Immediately after, he's tapping away at his screen. When you glance over, you see him setting the photo as his lock screen.
"You really like that picture, huh?" you tease.
He just smiles, tucking his phone away. "It's my new favorite."
The sun warms your skin as you hike back down the trail. When you reach the cabin, Will suggests a swim in the nearby lake.
"The water's probably freezing," you protest half-heartedly.
"I'll keep you warm," he promises with a wink that sends a flutter through your stomach.
The lake is secluded, surrounded by trees and dotted with smooth rocks. As you walk into the cool water, Will follows close behind.
"I told you it's freezing!" you gasp as the water reaches your waist.
"Come here," he says, pulling you against his chest. His body heat immediately chases away the chill and you wrap your arms around his neck, legs instinctively wrapping around his waist.
"Better?" he murmurs, his hands supporting your thighs.
You nod, burying your face in the crook of his neck. "Much."
What starts as gentle splashing quickly evolves into an all-out water war. You're laughing and shrieking as he chases you around the shallow end, eventually catching you and lifting you onto his shoulders.
During the playful struggle, you feel the tie of your bikini top loosen. Before you can adjust it, Will's fingers are there, carefully retying the strings with a familiarity that sends a shiver down your spine.
His knuckles brush against your skin, lingering just a moment longer than necessary.
"Got it," he says, his voice slightly rough. "Wouldn't want you to lose that."
Your heart pounds as he sets you back in the water, his hands never straying far from your waist.
That evening, as the sun begins to set, you're sitting on the porch wrapped in one of Will's hoodies and fuzzy socks, watching the sky transform into a canvas of oranges and pinks.
He appears behind you with two mugs of hot chocolate, setting them down before pulling you onto the wide porch chair with him.
You're basically in his lap now, his arms wrapped securely around your waist as you lean back against his chest.
"It's so beautiful," you whisper, mesmerized by the sunset.
"Not as beautiful as you," he murmurs against your hair.
You laugh softly. "You don't mean that."
Will shifts, turning you to face him. His expression is serious, eyes searching yours. "You really don't see it, do you?"
"See what?" you ask, your heart beginning to pound.
"How I look at you," he says, his voice thick with emotion. "How I've always looked at you. Do you really think all those times I insisted on driving you everywhere were just about convenience? Or that I get jealous when other guys pay attention to you because I'm just being a protective friend?"
Your breath catches as he continues, his words coming faster now.
"Every time you touch me, it's like electricity or a fucking lightning storm that goes straight to my heart. Every time you laugh, it's the only sound I want to hear. It doesn't matter if I'm having the worst day of my life, if I hear you laugh, everything else just fades away and I find myself saying stupid things just to hear it. I bought you that necklace because I wanted something of mine to always be touching you and I hoped that every time you felt it against your skin, you would think of me. Just how I always think of you."
His hand comes up to cup your cheek, thumb stroking your skin. "But that's not even the half of it. Do you have any idea what it does to me? The way other guys look at you? At that party, when that drunk asshole touched you, I wasn't just being a protective friend. I wanted to break his fucking hands. And every time someone flirts with you, I have to physically stop myself from pulling you away and showing everyone exactly who you belong to."
His grip tightens slightly on your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. "That night you came to my door after getting ready at your friend's place? I saw that stupid picture the second he posted it. And I wasn't just upset, I was sick because of it. Because that should have been me. It's always supposed to be me. I'm the one who's supposed to see you first. I'm the one who's supposed to drive you wherever it is you wanna go. I'm the one who's supposed to be there for every moment, big or small."
His hand comes up to cup your cheek, thumb stroking your skin. "I'm in love with you. I have been for years. And I'm tired of pretending I'm not. I'm tired of watching you walk around, oblivious to the fact that you've owned every piece of my heart since we were teenagers. I'm done pretending I'm okay with just being your friend when all I want is to be your everything. Because that‘s what you are and have always been for me, my everything.“
Tears prick at your eyes as his words sink in. All those moments you'd dismissed as just friendly behavior suddenly take on new meaning.
"I'm so sorry," you whisper, tears now streaming down your face. "I was so oblivious. I didn't..."
"Hey," he says softly, wiping away your tears with his thumb. "It's okay. I should have said something sooner."
"I feel the same way," you admit, your voice barely audible. "I think I always did. I've just been too scared to admit it, even to myself."
A brilliant smile transforms his face before he's leaning in, capturing your lips in a kiss that's both gentle and desperate. It's everything you've secretly wanted and more.
His lips are soft yet firm, moving against yours with a practiced confidence that leaves you breathless. When you part, both of you are breathing heavily.
"I've wanted to do that for so long," he murmurs against your lips.
He suddenly stands, lifting you effortlessly into his arms and carrying you back into the cabin. He lays you gently on the bed, propping himself above you on his elbows.
"Are you sure about this?" he asks, his eyes searching yours in the dim light.
You respond by pulling him down for another kiss, deeper this time, filled with all the pent-up longing of years.
His hands begin to explore your body, tracing the curves of your hips, the dip of your waist. He peppers your neck with kisses, nipping gently at your pulse point.
"You have no idea how long I've dreamed of this," he murmurs against your skin. "Having you like this, all mine."
His fingers find the hem of your hoodie, lifting it slowly over your head. His eyes darken as they take in the sight of you and he lets out a low groan.
"You're so fucking perfect," he whispers, leaning down to take one nipple into his mouth. You arch against him, fingers tangling in his hair as he pays extra attention to your breasts.
His hand slides down your stomach, fingers dipping beneath your lace panties. When his fingers brush against your core, you gasp, hips bucking instinctively.
"So responsive," he murmurs with a smirk. "I love it."
His fingers begin to circle your clit, teasing until you're writhing beneath him. Just as you're teetering on the edge, he slides a finger inside you, then another, curling them in a way that has you moaning his name.
"Will," you gasp, clutching at his shoulders. "Please…"
"Please what?" he asks, though he knows exactly what you want. "Tell me what you need, baby. You know I'll give you anything you ask for."
"You. I need you inside me."
His eyes darken at your words. With agonizing slowness, he removes his fingers, bringing them to his lips and tasting your arousal.
"Even better than I imagined," he groans before shedding his clothes. Your breath catches at the sight of him, broad shoulders, muscular chest and a cock that stands proud and thick, curving slightly upward.
He settles between your thighs, positioning himself at your entrance. "Look at me," he commands softly. "I want to see your pretty eyes when I make you mine."
The thick head of his cock presses against your slick folds and for a moment, he just teases you, rubbing himself against your clit until you're writhing and begging beneath him.
He decides to take pity on you and begins to push inside. The first inch is a delicious stretch, your body yielding to his size. He's thicker than you imagined, the ridge of his head dragging against your sensitive walls as he sinks deeper.
You can feel every pulse and throb of his cock as he buries himself to the hilt, his balls pressing against your ass. He's so deep you swear you can feel him in your womb, a fullness so complete it's almost overwhelming.
When he's fully seated inside you, he pauses, his body trembling with the effort of holding still. His forehead rests against yours, both of you breathing heavily as you adjust to his size.
"You okay?" he murmurs, his voice thick with restraint.
You nod, unable to form words as you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him even deeper. The movement draws a guttural moan from his chest.
"Fuck," he groans. "You feel… incredible. It's like you were made for me, baby. So tight, so wet, so fucking perfect. God, I love you."
He begins to move, setting a rhythm that's both gentle and demanding. Each stroke pushes deeper, claiming more of you until you're not sure where he ends and you begin.
"I've imagined this a thousand times, but nothing... nothing could have prepared me for how good you feel wrapped around me. I could stay buried inside you forever and it wouldn't be long enough."
The sounds of your soft sighs and breathy moans fill the room and you close your eyes, letting the pleasure wash over you. This is everything you ever wanted. He is everything you ever wanted.
"Look at me," he commands, his voice husky. "I want you to look at me while I fuck you. While I show you how much I love you."
Your eyes meet his, dark with desire and something more, something tender that makes your heart ache. He's watching every flicker of emotion on your face, cataloging every gasp and moan as if committing them to memory.
"Will," you gasp as he hits a particularly sensitive spot deep inside you. "Right there…"
"Right there, huh?" he murmurs with a smirk, repeating the movement that has your back arching off the bed. "That's my spot now. Only mine. Only I get to see you like this. Fuck you like this. Love you like this."
His thrusts become harder, each one designed to hit that perfect place inside you. "Do you understand? No one else gets to see you like this, all flushed and beautiful, falling apart on my cock. No one else gets to hear these sounds, feel this perfect pussy wrapped around them."
His hand comes up to cup your breast, thumb circling your nipple. "These are mine to touch. This body is mine to worship, to pleasure, to protect."
His pace quickens, his words becoming more urgent. "I'll always take care of you. Always. Whatever you need, whatever you want, it's yours. I'll spend the rest of my life making sure you never want for anything."
His words push you over the edge, the pleasure becoming too much and you're coming with a cry of his name. Your inner muscles clench around him and he groans, his movements becoming more erratic.
"Fuck, that's it," he growls, his rhythm faltering. "Taking me so well. All mine now."
With a final, deep thrust, he buries himself inside you, his body shuddering above you as he finds his release. You feel the warmth of his cum filling you, marking you as his in the most primal way possible.
After catching his breath, he rolls to the side, pulling you with him so you're draped across his chest. His fingers trace patterns on your back as your breathing gradually returns to normal.
"Will I… I've never felt anything like that before," you finally manage to say, your voice muffled against his chest.
He chuckles, the vibration rumbling through you. "Glad to be of service, my perfect girl"
You shift to look at him, propping your chin on his chest. His eyes are soft, a lazy smile playing on his lips.
"I love you," you say, the words feeling both terrifying and exhilarating.
His smile widens. "I love you too, baby. Always have, always will."
Morning light filters through the cabin windows, waking you slowly. You're still tangled in Will's arms, his body warm against yours. As you begin to stir, he tightens his grip, pulling you closer.
"Morning," he murmurs, voice thick with sleep.
"Morning, sleepyhead," you reply, pressing a soft kiss to his chest.
His response is to roll you onto your back, settling between your thighs as he captures your lips in a slow, sensual kiss.
His hands roam your body, relearning every curve and dip as if he hasn't just spent hours exploring you the night before.
You're lost in the bliss of it all, lips moving together in a lazy rhythm that's somehow more intimate than the passionate encounter of the night before.
That's when you hear it, the crunch of tires on the gravel driveway outside.
"Shit," Will mutters, immediately sitting up. "No one's supposed to be here besides us."
Panic flares in your chest. You're naked, in bed with your best friend and other people are arriving. People who weren't invited.
"Get dressed," he says, already throwing on his clothes. "I'll see who it is."
You scramble to find your clothes, heart pounding as you hear voices downstairs, familiar voices that make your stomach drop. By the time you've pulled on shorts and a t-shirt, Will is back, his expression annoyed.
"It's some of our friends," he says, running a hand through his hair. "They decided to 'surprise' us."
Your anxiety spikes. "What do we do?"
He takes your face in his hands, his expression softening. "Hey. It's okay. We just go down there and act normal. Well," he adds with a small smile, "a new kind of normal. I can’t act like I haven’t fucked my girl three days into Friday."
“Will, this isn‘t funny,“ you mumble, a blush already forming on your cheeks. You take a deep breath before following him downstairs only to see your friends already making themselves at home in the living room.
"There you are!" one of them calls out. "We were wondering where you two were."
Another friend's eyes narrow as they take in your appearance, disheveled hair, clothes that look hastily thrown on and most telling, the hickey blooming on your neck. A slow grin spreads across their face.
"Well, well, well," they say. "Looks like we interrupted something."
"Finally!" another chimes in. "It's about time you two figured it out. Bet he kept you occupied all night."
Your cheeks flush as Will's arm wraps possessively around your waist, pulling you against his side.
"Watch it," he says, his grip on your waist tightening slightly.
One of your guy friends makes a crude comment about your activities the night before, winking suggestively. "Chill dude we just want to know if she was worth the wait?"
Before you can even process the inappropriate remark, Will's entire demeanor changes. His expression hardens, his eyes narrowing dangerously.
“Don’t talk about her like that,” Will says. “Seriously. I don’t care if you’re joking around or if you think it’s funny. Don’t talk about her like that. Ever.”
The friend holds up his hands in surrender. “Whoa, man. Just kidding around.”
“I’m not,” Will says, his tone leaving no room for argument. “She’s not someone you make crude jokes about. She may be your friend, but she’s my girl and I’m not going to just sit there and let you talk about her like she isn’t standing right here next to me.”
An awkward silence falls over the group until someone changes the subject.
Throughout the day, Will is even more attentive than usual, if that's possible. His hands are constantly on you, resting on your waist, playing with your hair, lacing through your fingers. When you're talking with other people, he positions himself between you, as if he doesn’t want anything or anyone coming too close to you.
As evening falls and your friends prepare to leave, Will pulls you aside on the porch, away from prying eyes.
"They'll get used to it," he says, noticing your lingering anxiety about their teasing.
"I know," you reply, leaning into his touch. "It's just… new. Still slightly unexpected."
His expression softens as he cups your cheek, thumb stroking your skin. "Well, they better get used to it. Because this is it now. You and me. Nothing will ever change that."
He leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss that might as well be a silent promise that you are, in fact, his and only his.
The new blog that is stealing waited for Lina/Maya to post to post there part 3. This person is obsessed with stealing now it makes sense though why the theif hadn’t posted anything it’s because she couldn’t.
I swear to god Katherine if you‘re reading this…. I WILL COME AND FIND you!!!! I am so sick of you!!!! I hope you never find a cold side of your pillow and that your phone falls into the toilet!!! Get off Tumblr I swear we are TIRED of you
description: Everyone knows that Will does not play around when it comes to you. And lately, the line between friendship and something more has become harder and harder to ignore.
TW: Fluff, jealousy, possessive Will, alcohol consumption, (a little less?) oblivious reader.
Part 1 masterlist
You give yourself one final look in the mirror, loving the way your deep blue dress clings to your curves in all the right places, the one Will insisted you buy last week.
"Ready to break some hearts?" your friend jokes from behind you, adjusting the strap of her own dress.
You laugh, turning to face her. "Hardly. It's just a party."
One of your guy friends calls your name from the living room. "Come on, guys, we're going to be late."
As you step into the living room, his eyes widen appreciatively. "Wow, you look… wow."
Your friend snorts. "Smooth. Real smooth, dude."
"What? I'm just appreciating beauty when I see it," he says with a grin, pulling out his phone. "Come here, let's get a picture."
You roll your eyes but lean in next to him, your friend squeezing in on your other side. He holds up his phone, his arm wrapping around your shoulders as he snaps the photo.
"Perfect," he declares, tapping away at his screen. "Going up on the story right now."
You grab your purse from the couch and drag your friend along with you. "Let's go before one of our friends sends out a search party."
The drive to the party is filled with laughter and music and the three of you singing along to whatever's playing on the radio. It's not until you're pulling up to the house that you notice Will already standing by the entrance, arms crossed and an unreadable expression on his face.
Your smile falters when he doesn't immediately rush to greet you like he usually does. Instead, his eyes flick from you to your friend, who's getting out of the driver's seat and back to you again.
"Hey," you say cautiously as you approach him. "You okay?"
"Can we talk?" he ask, his voice low and tight. His eyes haven't left your friend, who's now standing near the entrance.
"Will, what's wrong?" you ask, reaching for his hand like you normally would, but he doesn't take it.
"You got ready at her place," he states. "Not at my place. Like you usually do."
Your brow furrows in confusion. "She invited me over. I didn't think you'd mind. She said she just wanted some girl time."
"But he was also there. I saw the picture he posted," he continues, his jaw clenching. "You looked.... cozy."
"It was just a funny picture, Will. Nothing happened," you say softly.
"But he drove you here," he says, finally turning his full attention to you. "When you know that I'm the one who usually drives you everywhere."
"I thought you'd be happy not to have to drive me for once," you whisper, feeling a strange flutter in your chest.
"I would've been happy," he says, his voice dropping to barely above a whisper, "if you had been at my apartment. Getting ready with me. If I had been the first one to see you in that beautiful blue dress. If I had been the one taking that picture with you. If I had been driving you here while listening to your favorite music like I always do."
The raw emotion in his voice catches you off guard. "Will, I… I'm sorry. I didn't know that would be so important to you."
"Everything that concerns you is important to me," he says simply, his eyes softening slightly.
You swallow hard. "I'm sorry if I upset you. That wasn't my intention. Is… is everything okay between us?"
He nods, his gaze intense. "Yeah. And I'm sorry that I overreacted. Everything's okay now."
"Can… can I have my hug now?" you ask shyly, giving him your best puppy-dog eyes, knowing he can't resist you if you look at him like that.
Something shifts in his expression and without another word, he pulls you into his arms. The hug is tighter than usual, longer, his face burying into the crook of your neck as he breathes you in. When he finally pulls back, his hands linger on your waist.
"Come on," he says, his voice back to its normal warmth. "Let's go inside."
The party is already in full swing, the thumping bass vibrating through the floor as soon as you step inside. Will's arm immediately wraps around your shoulders, his body positioned slightly in front of yours as he navigates through the crowded house, creating a protective bubble around you in the sea of people.
"Watch it," he mutters as a drunk guy manages to stumble into your space, bumping hard against your shoulder and nearly spilling his drink down the front of your dress.
"Whoa, sorry 'bout that," he slurs, his eyes dragging slowly up and down your body in a way that makes your skin crawl. "But damn, worth it to run into you. Nice pair of legs you got there, sugar."
Before you can even form a response Will has positioned himself directly between you and the drunk guy, his broad shoulders completely blocking your view.
"And I think you need to back the fuck off," Will says, his voice low and dangerously calm, a tone you've never heard from him before. It's devoid of its usual warmth, replaced by something that sends a shiver down your spine.
The drunk guy blinks and takes a sloppy step back. "Whoa, man, chill out. I was just complimenting her."
Will takes a step forward, invading the guy's space, his jaw clenched so tight you can see the muscle twitching. "I don't care what you were doing. You don't get to touch her. You don't get to talk to her. You don't even get to look at her. Now get lost."
"Alright, alright, my bad. I'm gone," the guy mumbles, scrambling away and disappearing into the crowd.
The tension hangs in the air for a moment after he's gone. Will stands there for a second, his back still to you, his shoulders rigid. Then he takes a deep breath and turns, his expression immediately softening as his eyes find yours.
"You okay?" he asks, his hand coming up to gently cup your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin. "Did he hurt you?"
You shake your head, your heart still pounding from the whiplash of his transformation. "No, I'm fine. He just... bumped into me."
"Good," he says, his voice still a little tight as he pulls you back into his side, his arm wrapping securely around your waist. "Come on. Let's go find our friends."
You find them near the makeshift bar in the kitchen, drinks already in hand. "There you are!" your friend calls, waving you over.
Will makes sure you're settled before grabbing drinks for both of you, his eyes never straying too far from where you're standing.
"You okay?" you ask, noting the tension still in his shoulders.
"Perfect now," he says, pressing a cold bottle into your hand.
The mood lifts as you joke around with your friends, laughter filling the small kitchen space. Will watches from his position beside you, a soft smile on his face as he listens to you tell some ridiculous story about your week.
When your drink runs empty, he's already reaching for another, his hand brushing against your lower back as he passes it to you. "I've got you," he murmurs, his fingers tracing the fabric of your dress.
Later, as you bend down to pick up a napkin that fell to the floor, Will's hand shoots out to cover the sharp corner of the table. When you straighten up, your head only collides with his palm instead of the wooden edge.
"Whoa," you say, laughing. "Thank you."
"No problem. Just looking out for you," he says, withdrawing his hand but not his gaze.
Your friend notices the exchange, raising an eyebrow. "Do you ever stop staring at her? It's like you're constantly on bodyguard duty, making sure nothing harms a hair on her head."
Another friend chimes in, "Seriously, last week at the mall, he practically growled at that guy who bumped into her."
Will's jaw tightens. "She's important to me." He says it so matter-of-factly that no one interrupts. "If keeping an eye on her means I know she's safe, then yeah, that's exactly what I'm gonna do."
Your friend lets out a quiet laugh, shaking her head.
"He's not wrong, though," another friend adds teasingly. "Remember that time at the concert when she almost got trampled? Will turned into a human shield."
"I wasn't going to let anything happen to her," Will says, his voice low but firm.
Your cheeks feel hot as your friends continue to recount instances of Will's protective behavior. "Okay, okay, we get it. Will's a good friend."
"The best friend," he corrects, his eyes meeting yours. "Right?"
You nod, unable to form words as your heart pounds in your chest.
The conversation shifts to plans for the next few weeks, someone mentioning a trip to New York. "You should come with us," they say, turning to you.
"I can't," you reply automatically. "Will and I are planning to go to the cabin."
A few friends immediately jump in. "Ooh, cabin trip! Can we come too?"
Before you can respond, Will cuts in. "Actually, it's going to be a small trip. Just the two of us. The cabin owner said they're doing some maintenance on the neighboring properties, so it'll be pretty quiet."
Someone nudges him playfully. "Just trying to get her alone, huh?"
Will's eyes meet yours, his expression unreadable. "So what if I do?"
The group falls silent for a moment, your friends exchanging knowing looks. You feel your cheeks flush at his bluntness, but before anyone can respond, the subject thankfully changes.
As the party winds down, Will insists on you staying at his place. "I didn't see you all day," he says, his voice low in your ear. "I missed you."
You tease him, "Someone's needy tonight."
He just mumbles something under his breath that sounds like, "If only you knew."
Back at his apartment, you change into one of his oversized shirts, the soft fabric smelling faintly of him. When you emerge from the bathroom, he's already in bed, propped up against the headboard.
His eyes meet yours, a soft smile playing on his lips. "That shirt looks better on you than it ever did on me."
You blush before sliding under the covers and he immediately pulls you closer, his arm wrapping around your waist. "I love having you here," he murmurs into your hair. "In my apartment. In my bed. Wearing my clothes."
You smile, resting your head on his chest. "I like being here too. It's like my second home."
"I wish someday this would be your only home," he says softly.
You pull back slightly to look at him. "What do you mean?"
"Nothing," he says before reaching over to his nightstand. "I actually have something for you."
He hands you a small, wrapped package with a little bow. "Will, you didn't have to," you say before unwrapping it carefully.
Inside is a delicate necklace with a heart pendant, a small diamond sparkling in the dim light. "Oh my god," you breathe, your fingers tracing the delicate chain. "Will, it's… that's too much."
"Turn it around," he says gently.
On the back, you can see your initials engraved next to his. Tears prick at the corner of your eyes. "It's so beautiful."
"You deserve everything and more," he says, taking the necklace from your trembling fingers. "I'd give you the world if you asked for it."
He fastens it around your neck, his fingers lingering against your skin as he gathers your hair to the side. The gentle brush of his knuckles against your nape sends a shiver through you and you can feel the warmth of his breath near your ear.
"It looks beautiful on you. Just like I knew it would," he murmurs, his voice thick with an emotion you can't quite place.
You turn to wrap your arms around him, holding him close. "Thank you," you whisper against his chest. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."
When you pull back, your faces are only inches apart. The air crackles with a new tension. You notice his eyes flicker down to your mouth for just a second before meeting yours again.
Is he thinking about kissing you? Because suddenly, all you can think about is kissing him.
Your heart pounds against your ribs, a frantic rhythm that matches the throbbing in your lips. You want to lean in. You want to close that tiny gap and find out what his mouth feels like against yours.
But this is your best friend. Your Will.
You can't fuck this up. You can't risk your friendship like that.
You pull back with a shy, awkward smile. "We should probably get some sleep," you say, your voice barely above a whisper as you shift away slightly, creating a small space between you in the bed.
The air thickens with unspoken words. Will's eyes hold yours for a moment longer, something unreadable swirling in their depths before he nods slowly. "Right," he says, his voice rough. "Sleep."
He settles back against the pillows, turning off the lamp and plunging the room into darkness. You lie there, hyper-aware of the warmth radiating from his body, the steady rhythm of his breathing, and the unfamiliar weight of the new necklace resting against your skin. Sleep doesn't come easily.
The next two weeks fall into a comfortable, yet slightly charged, routine. It's filled with exactly what you've always loved about your friendship, but now, everything feels tinged with a new layer of something you can't quite name. Or aren't brave enough to name.
There are multiple banana bread bake-offs in Will's kitchen, which inevitably end with flour on your nose and his low laughter as he wipes it away with his thumb. There are Disney movie nights where you both sing along to every song, your voices harmonizing effortlessly on the couch, his arm draped across the back of it. There are spontaneous coffee dates when his schedule allows, him showing up at your door with your favorite latte in hand, his smile making your stomach do a little flip.
Before you know it, it's Friday morning. The day of the cabin trip.
You're just finishing zipping your bag when you hear the familiar rumble of his Bronco pulling up outside. A moment later, there's a knock at your door. You open it to find him standing there, a small smile playing on his lips.
"Ready?" he asks, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
You nod, grabbing your bag. "Ready."
Before you can even lift it, he's taking it from you, his muscles flexing under the thin fabric of his t-shirt as he hoists it with ease. "I got it."
He leads the way down to his truck, opening the passenger door for you. As you climb in, you notice two things on the console: your favorite coffee from the cozy little shop downtown, still steaming hot and a fluffy throw blanket folded neatly.
"Will," you say, touched. "You didn't have to."
"I know," he replies, his voice soft as he gets in and starts the engine. "But I wanted to. And I know you can't get comfortable without a blanket on your lap."
The drive out of the city is peaceful, the morning sun filtering through the trees. You sip your coffee, pulling the blanket around you as you lean your head against the window, the steady hum of the engine and the quiet music playing from the speakers lulling you into a comfortable state.
You're drifting somewhere between sleep and wakefulness when you feel his hand gently brush a stray strand of hair from your face. You don't open your eyes, just lean into the touch slightly, a soft sigh escaping your lips.
"Get some sleep," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through you. "We've got a long week ahead."
Hiii! I have a Will request. You take your nephew to go to a meet & greet and ask him to give Will a note for you that says something along the lines of “my aunt is cute and single and I need an uncle. He’s her number…” and Will reads it and looks up and you and smiles. Then he texts you and the rest is history. Can be fluffy and or smutty.
Wingman
pairing: Will Smith x female reader
description: You send your nephew to give Will a note at a meet and greet and end up on a date that leads to more.
CW: Fluff, smut, mdni, age gap mention.
The crowd around you buzzes with energy, but your focus is entirely on the small piece of paper clutched in your nephew's sweaty palm. You crouch down to his level, adjusting his tiny hockey jersey.
"Remember, just hand it to him when you get to the front of the line," you whisper, tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear. "Can you do that for Auntie?"
He nods seriously, brown eyes wide with determination. "I got it."
Your heart races as you watch him join the queue of fans waiting to meet Will. The hockey star looks even better in person, tall, broad-shouldered, with that easy smile that makes your stomach flutter.
He signs autographs and poses for photos, his movements fluid despite the long line.
When it's your nephew's turn, you hold your breath. The little boy marches right up to the table, extends his hand with the note and says something you can't quite hear. Will's brow furrows slightly as he unfolds the paper. His eyes scan the words, then slowly lift to find you in the crowd.
A grin spreads across his face and he winks, just once, before turning back to your nephew and ruffling his hair. Your face burns as you quickly look away, pretending to study the arena ceiling.
That night, your phone buzzes with an unknown number. You almost ignore it, but something makes you check.
This is Will Smith. Your nephew is quite the matchmaker. Coffee tomorrow?
Your thumb hovers over the screen, heart pounding. You type back a simple yes before throwing your phone across the bed and screaming into your pillow.
The coffee shop is quiet when you arrive the next afternoon. Will's already there, looking casual in a simple hoodie and jeans that do nothing to hide his athletic build. He stands when he sees you, pulling out your chair.
"Thanks for coming," he says, voice deeper than you expected. "I have to admit, that's the first time I've been asked out via note passed by a seven-year-old."
You laugh, some of your nervousness melting away. "He takes his wingman duties very seriously."
The conversation flows easily after that. You talk about hockey, family, your job and his life on the road. Two hours disappear before you realize it. When he walks you to your car, his fingers brush against yours, sending sparks through your entire body.
"I had a great time," he says, leaning against your driver's side door. "But I'm wondering if maybe we could continue this somewhere more private?"
Your answer is to pull him down for a kiss. His lips are soft at first, then firm as he deepens the kiss, one hand cupping your face while the other rests on your hip. You part breathlessly, foreheads pressed together.
"My place is five minutes away," you whisper.
The drive to your apartment is a blur of stolen glances and racing hearts. As soon as your door clicks shut, his hands are on you, spinning you around to press you against the wood.
His mouth claims yours again while you fumble with his hoodie, pushing it up until he breaks the kiss long enough to yank it over his head.
His skin is warm beneath your palms, muscles flexing as you explore his chest and shoulders. He walks you backward toward the bedroom, never breaking the kiss until your knees hit the edge of the mattress. You fall back, pulling him down with you.
Clothes disappear in a flurry of movement until there's nothing between you. He settles between your thighs, propping himself on his elbows as he studies your face.
"You're even more beautiful up close," he murmurs, tracing your jawline with his thumb. "I've been thinking about you since yesterday."
You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. "Then stop talking and show me."
He chuckles, the sound vibrating through your chest. "Impatient, are we?"
But he obliges, positioning himself at your entrance before slowly pushing inside. His movements start gentle, but soon pick up speed as your hips rise to meet his thrusts.
His name falls from your lips like a prayer as he hits that perfect spot inside you again and again. When his thumb finds your clit, circling gently, you can't do anything besides whimper his name.
"Will," you gasp, fingers digging into his shoulders. "Don't stop."
His answer is to kiss you deeply, swallowing your cries as pleasure crashes over you. Your body arches beneath him, inner walls clenching around his length as you fall apart. He follows moments later, his rhythm faltering as he buries himself deep inside you with a guttural moan.
"I think your nephew might expect a thank you card," Will murmurs against your hair.
You laugh, pressing closer. "Maybe a promotion to official matchmaker?"
He rolls you onto your back, grinning down at you. "How about we start with round two first?"
Okay but like Luke calling you his wife even though you’re not engaged yet and it annoyed you and then he proposes at the lake house and to get back at him you say no sex til the wedding and stick to it for a few days then give in because you want him bad
My Wife
pairing: Luke Hughes x (fiancée!)reader
description: Luke keeps calling you his wife long before there's a ring on your finger so after he proposes, you declare a sex-until-the-wedding rule as payback.
TW: MDNI, smut, unprotected sex, use of Y/N, established relationship.
masterlist
It starts subtly, a slip of the tongue at a team charity event that you almost convince yourself you misheard, but soon becomes a pattern you can't ignore. From casual introductions to waitresses "This is my wife, Y/N" to more intimate moments like murmuring "Love you, wifey" after you pass him the remote, Luke drops the word with an ease that suggests he's already rehearsed for a role you haven't agreed to audition for.
Each instance sends a confusing mix of warmth and irritation through you. You love the idea of being his wife, desperately want that future with him, but his casual assumption of the title without the actual commitment feels like he's trying to skip the most important chapters of your story.
The breaking point comes at his parents' anniversary party, when he's deep in conversation with his uncle about the renovations on their house. "My wife and I were thinking about doing something similar with our place eventually," he says, gesturing to where you're chatting with his mom. The word hangs in the air and you feel your face flush.
Later that night, you confront him.
"Luke, we need to talk about the 'w' word," you say, curled up on your couch.
"The 'w' word?" he asks, feigning innocence. "Wow? Wonderful? Winner?"
"Wife," you clarify, crossing your arms. "You keep calling me your wife and we're not even engaged."
His playful expression softens. "I know," he says quietly, pulling you closer. "I just... I know. You know? In here." He taps his heart. "It feels right."
"But it's not official," you insist, though your resolve weakens at his sincerity. "I want to be your wife, Luke. More than anything. But I want you to ask me properly."
He studies your face for a moment, his expression unreadable. "Noted," he says finally, leaning in to kiss you. "I'll be more careful."
The proposal comes two weeks later, at the lake house. It's early evening, the sun setting over the water in a spectacular display of oranges and purples. You're sitting on the dock, your feet dangling in the cool water, while Luke stands behind you, his arms wrapped around your shoulders.
"Remember when I first brought you here?" he murmurs against your hair. "You were so quiet, so nervous to meet my family."
"I was terrified," you admit with a laugh. "Your brothers are intense."
"They liked you immediately," he says. "We all did. I knew that day, looking at you sitting right here, that I was going to marry you."
Your heart starts beating faster. You turn to look at him, but he's already moving, sinking to one knee on the wooden planks of the dock.
"Y/N," he begins, his voice slightly shaky. "I know I've been jumping the gun by calling you my wife. I think it's because I've known you were my wife since that first day here. I've been trying out the name, getting comfortable with it, but I realize now that I need to earn the right to call you that."
He pulls a small velvet box from his pocket, opening it to reveal a stunning diamond ring. "Will you do me the honor of making me the happiest man on earth by actually becoming my wife?"
Tears stream down your face as you nod, unable to speak. He slides the ring onto your finger, then stands and pulls you into his arms, spinning you around as the sun disappears below the horizon.
"Yes," you finally manage to whisper against his lips. "Yes, yes, yes."
Later that night, tangled together in bed, you're both still riding the high of the proposal. His hands are roaming your body, his lips leaving a trail of fire down your neck.
"God, I want you so bad," he murmurs against your skin. "My fiancée."
You pull back slightly, a mischievous glint in your eye. "About that," you say, trailing a finger down his chest. "Since you were so eager to call me your wife before I actually was one, I think we need to establish some ground rules."
Luke groans. "What kind of ground rules?"
"No sex," you say simply. "Until the wedding."
He stares at you, his expression a mixture of disbelief and horror. "You're kidding me. That's months away!"
"About four months," you correct with a sweet smile. "Think of it as building anticipation."
"Four months?" he repeats, his voice rising. "Babe, I can't go four hours without you, let alone four months."
"You'll have to," you say, leaning in to kiss him softly. "Consider it payback for all those times you called me my wife without asking."
Luke flops back against the pillows, throwing an arm over his eyes. "You're going to be the death of me."
"But you'll die a married man," you remind him, snuggling into his side.
For the next three days, you stick to your guns. It's absolute torture. Every touch, every kiss, every lingering glance is charged with unspoken desire. Luke tries every trick in the book, pouting, bargaining, outright begging but you remain firm, even though you're dying inside.
On the fourth morning, you wake up to the sight of Luke already awake, watching you with an intensity that makes your stomach flutter.
"Please," he whispers, his hand reaching out to trace the line of your jaw. "I can't take it anymore. I've been hard for three straight days. I think I'm going to spontaneously combust."
You laugh, but it's a weak, breathless sound. "It's only been four days, Luke."
"Four days too many," he insists, rolling over to hover above you. "Look at this ring. It means you're mine. It means I get to call you my wife for real now. And wives don't deny their husbands."
"That's not how it works," you protest weakly, even as your body responds to his proximity. "And I´m not your wife yet, I´m your fiancée."
"Please, baby," he murmurs, his lips finding that sensitive spot behind your ear. "I need you. I need to be inside you, to feel you around me. I'll do anything."
"Anything?" you ask, your resolve crumbling rapidly.
"Anything," he confirms, his hand sliding under your sleep shirt to cup your breast. "Just say yes."
You look up at him, at the desperation in his eyes, the love that shines there, the desire that matches your own and you know you've lost.
"Yes," you breathe and that's all the encouragement he needs.
The kiss that follows is hungry, desperate. His tongue delves into your mouth, claiming, possessing, as if he's trying to make up for lost time. Your sleep shirt is torn over your head, his following quickly after, until there's nothing but skin against skin, the cool air a stark contrast to the heat building between you.
Luke's mouth travels down your body, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. He takes his time with your breasts, lavishing attention on each nipple until they're pebbled and sensitive, his teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp. His hand slides down your stomach, fingers dipping into your wetness, groaning when he feels how ready you are for him.
"God, you're so wet," he murmurs against your skin. "All this for me?"
"All for you," you breathe, arching against his touch. "Please, Luke."
He continues his downward journey, his lips and tongue mapping every inch of your stomach, your hips, your thighs. When he finally settles between your legs, you're already writhing with anticipation.
"Look at me," he commands, and you force your eyes open to meet his. "I want to watch you fall apart."
The first stroke of his tongue against your clit is electric. He's always been good at this, but today there's an added desperation, an urgency that sends waves of pleasure through you. He builds a rhythm that has you seeing stars, his fingers joining in, curling inside you to find that spot that makes your toes curl.
"Luke," you gasp, your fingers tangling in his hair. "Don't stop."
He responds by intensifying his efforts, his tongue working faster as his fingers pump in and out of you. The pressure builds rapidly and you can feel yourself getting closer to the edge with every passing second.
"That's it, baby," he murmurs against you. "Come for me. Let me taste you."
The words push you over the edge and you cry out as your orgasm crashes over you. Luke doesn't stop, working you through every wave of pleasure until you're trembling and spent.
Only then does he move back up your body, positioning himself at your entrance. "I need to be inside you," he says, his voice rough with desire. "Now."
You nod, wrapping your legs around his waist as he enters you slowly, savoring the moment. The feeling of fullness, of completeness, is overwhelming after days of denial.
"God, I've missed this," he groans, his forehead resting against yours. "I've missed you."
You move together in a rhythm as familiar as breathing, each stroke building the pressure, each kiss deepening the connection.
Luke sets a punishing pace, his hips snapping against yours with a desperation that matches your own. He hooks one of your legs high over his hip, changing the angle and driving deeper, hitting that spot inside you that makes your vision blur. Your nails dig into his shoulders, holding on as he fucks you with an intensity that borders on feral.
"You feel so good," he pants against your mouth.
"Harder," you beg, meeting his thrusts with your own. "Don't hold back."
That's all the encouragement he needs. His movements become more erratic, more desperate, as he chases his release. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mingling with your moans and his grunts of pleasure.
"I'm close," he warns, his rhythm faltering slightly. "Where do you want me?"
"Inside me," you breathe. "Always inside me."
With a final, powerful thrust, he buries himself deep inside you. You cry out as your second orgasm crashes over you, even more intense than the first, your body convulsing around him as he fills you.
Afterward, tangled together in the sheets, you trace patterns on his chest. "Okay," you admit softly. "Maybe the no-sex-until-the-wedding rule was a bit extreme."
Luke laughs, the sound vibrating through you. "Just a bit?"
"Maybe," you concede.
"Good," he says, tightening his arms around you. "Because I'm not sure I could survive another day without you."
fraser who finds out reader is pregnant from their friends and is worried because his career and everything so he gets distant? if u don’t wanna write it just ignore this loll. love your work btw!
Accidents happen
pairing: Fraser Minten x fwb!reader
description: Fraser grows distant after learning that you are pregnant.
CW: Unplanned pregnancy, emotional distress, no happy ending (kind of?)
The pregnancy test sits on the edge of your bathroom sink, two pink lines staring back at you like an accusation. Your hands shake as you pick up your phone, scrolling to Fraser's name with a thumb that suddenly feels too clumsy. You type out a simple message: "Can you come over? Need to talk."
He replies almost immediately. "On my way."
Twenty minutes later, there's a knock at your door. Fraser stands there in his Bruins sweats, hair still damp, a smile already forming on his face. "Hey, you. Everything okay?"
You step aside to let him in, heart pounding against your ribs. "We need to talk."
His smile fades. "That sounds serious."
You lead him to the couch, sitting on the opposite end from him. Distance feels necessary right now, even though you've never needed it before. "Remember that night after the season ended? When we forgot..."
"Protection?" he finishes, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I remember. Why are you…?"
You push the pregnancy test across the coffee table. It skids to a stop in front of him.
Fraser stares at it like it's a snake about to strike. He doesn't pick it up, doesn't say anything. Just looks. And looks. And looks.
"Fraser?" you prompt when the silence stretches too long.
"Is it… is it mine?" he asks finally, voice quiet.
The question stings more than you expect it to. "Who else's would it be?"
"Right. Sorry. Stupid question." He finally picks up the test, turning it over in his hands like he's trying to solve a puzzle. "Wow."
"Wow?" you repeat. "That's all you have to say?"
"What do you want me to say?" He sets the test down carefully, like it might break. "Congratulations?"
"I don't know," you admit, voice cracking. "Something other than 'wow' would be nice."
He stands up, pacing the length of your small living room. "I just… I wasn't expecting this. Like, at all. My career is finally taking off and now this…"
"This?" you ask, standing too. "What about this?"
"This changes everything," he says, not looking at you. "The Bruins, my contract, my future… it all gets complicated with a baby."
Your stomach drops. "So this is about your career?"
"No, not just that." He stops pacing, running both hands through his hair. "I'm twenty-twp. I'm not ready to be a dad. I don't know how to be a dad."
"You think I'm ready to be a mom?" you shoot back, tears welling in your eyes. "This wasn't exactly my plan either, Fraser."
"I know, I know." He finally looks at you and the panic in his eyes makes your heart ache. "I just need time to think."
"Think about what? Whether you're going to be part of this or not?"
"About how we're going to make this work," he says, but you both know he means something else.
The next week is hell. Fraser doesn't call. He doesn't text. He doesn't answer when you reach out. You see him on sports highlights, laughing with teammates, living his life like nothing has changed. Like you don't exist.
Finally, you can't take it anymore. You show up at his apartment after a game, letting yourself in with the key he gave you months ago for "emergencies." This feels like an emergency.
He's on the couch, scrolling through his phone, when he looks up and sees you. The smile dies on his face.
"We need to talk," you say, voice steady despite the tremor in your hands.
"I was going to call you," he says, sitting up. "I just needed space."
"Space?" you laugh, but there's no humor in it. "You've had nothing but space, Fraser. I've been going through this alone while you're off living your dream life."
"It's not that simple," he says, standing up. "My agent, the team… they don't need distractions right now. And a baby? That's the ultimate distraction."
"So I'm a distraction?" you ask, stepping closer. "Our baby is a distraction?"
"No, that's not what I meant." He reaches for your hand, but you pull away. "I'm just scared. This is huge and I don't know if I'm ready."
"Well, you'd better get ready," you say, tears finally breaking free. "Because ready or not, it's happening."
Fraser watches you cry, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you think he might pull you into his arms, tell you everything will be okay. But he doesn't. He just stands there, letting the silence stretch between you.
"I can't do this right now," he finally says, voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry."
You nod, wiping at your cheeks with the back of your hand. "I get it."
"Do you?" he asks, and there's something desperate in his voice now. "Do you really get it?"
"I get that your career comes first," you say, turning toward the door. "I always have."
"Wait," he calls as you reach the hallway. "Don't go like this."
You stop but don't turn around. "How else should I go, Fraser?"
He doesn't have an answer for that.
The drive home is a blur of streetlights and tears. You don't remember the trip, just the feeling of your heart breaking piece by piece. When you get back to your apartment, you sink to the floor in the entryway and let it all out, the fear, the anger, the overwhelming sadness of losing something you never really had in the first place.
Your phone buzzes with a text from Fraser. "I'm sorry. I really am."
You type back a reply before you can think too much about it. "Me too."
Then you block his number, because some goodbyes need to be final. Even when they hurt like hell.
I have a request for Jack Hughes: he has a crush on reader who has been best friends with Quinn for as long as Jack can remember (she is the same age as Quinn) and he never said anything because Quinn always said she is off-limits (but something happens and they grow a bit closer maybe)
Off-Limits
pairing: Jack Hughes x female reader
description: You remain completely oblivious to Jack's crush and the fact that your best friend Quinn has always declared you as off-limits.
CW: Fluff, some jealousy.
The door slams behind you, the sound swallowed by the vast expanse of water and trees. You breathe in the lake air, heavy with the scent of pine and something like freedom. Quinn's already at the edge of the dock, skipping stones like he's been doing since you were both kids.
"Thought you'd never wake up," he calls out, not turning around. You've always loved that about him, how he senses you without even looking.
"Blame Jack and his video games," you reply, dropping your tote bag on the weathered wood. "He kept me up until 2 AM."
Quinn's stone skips seven times before sinking. "That kid has no self-control."
You settle beside him, legs dangling over the edge. The water ripples below, reflecting the morning sky in shades of blue and gold.
This has always been your place, yours and Quinn's. A sanctuary away from the world, away from expectations.
The cabin door opens again and Jack's footsteps thud across the wooden porch. He's shirtless, shorts slung low on his hips, hair still messy from sleep. Your eyes catch on the line of his shoulders, broader than you remember, the muscles in his back flexing as he stretches.
"Finally decided to join the living?" Quinn teases, but there's an edge to it.
Jack ignores his brother, his gaze finding you instead. "Morning. Coffee?"
"Please," you say, and he disappears back inside, returning moments later with a steaming mug that he hands to you directly, fingers brushing against yours.
The touch sends something unfamiliar through you, a spark that makes you pull back slightly. Jack notices, his expression faltering for just a second before he masks it with a grin.
Quinn's watching, though. He's always watching. "Don't you have somewhere to be, Jack?"
Jack rolls his eyes, but there's hurt there too. You've always been able to read the Hughes boys, even when they try to hide what they're feeling. "Just trying to be nice to our guest."
"Our guest?" Quinn's voice rises slightly. "She's been my guest for twenty years, Jack. Try to keep up."
The tension between them is thicker than the summer humidity. You've noticed it more this year, the way Jack hovers when you're around, how Quinn gets territorial, like a dog with a favorite toy.
"Guys," you start, but Jack's already walking away, toward the small boathouse at the far end of the property.
"He's been weird lately," Quinn says, his voice lower now, softer. "Since you got here."
"He's fine," you reply, though you're not sure you believe it. Jack has been following you around like a shadow, popping up wherever you are, offering to get you things, asking if you need anything. At first, you thought it was just him being friendly, but there's something more to it now.
Later that afternoon, you're reading on the screened porch when Jack appears again, this time with two fishing rods. "Want to take out the boat?"
"Quinn and I were going to go out later," you say, marking your page.
Jack's shoulders slump, just a little. "Oh. Okay. I can ask Luke."
"Jack, wait." You set your book aside. "I'll go now. Quinn can join us when he's done with his call."
Jack's face lights up, that boyish grin spreading across his features. "Really?"
"Really," you confirm, standing up.
The boat ride starts out awkwardly, the silence stretching between you broken only by the hum of the engine. Jack keeps glancing at you when he thinks you're not looking, his eyes tracing the line of your neck, the curve of your shoulder against your tank top.
"So," he says finally, cutting the engine as you reach the middle of the lake. "Remember when we were kids and you pushed me in right here?"
You laugh, the memory surfacing clear as day. "You were being annoying."
"I'm always annoying," he replies, but there's something else in his voice now, something deeper. "You just never used to mind as much."
Before you can respond, he's leaning closer, his hand brushing a stray hair from your face. The touch lingers, his fingers tracing your jawline. Your breath catches, your heart suddenly racing in your chest.
"Jack..."
"Jack! What are you doing out here without me?"
Quinn's voice cuts through the moment and Jack pulls back like he's been burned. You turn to see Quinn standing at the end of the dock, hands on his hips, that familiar protective look on his face.
"Just taking her out for a bit," Jack calls back, his voice strained. "We were waiting for you."
The rest of the day is strange with Jack avoiding your gaze and Quinn watching both of you like a hawk. That evening, as you're helping with dinner, Quinn corners you in the kitchen.
"Be careful with him," he says, his voice low.
"With who? Jack?"
"Yeah, Jack." Quinn's eyes find yours, serious in a way they rarely are. "He's got a crush on you. A big one."
You laugh, but it sounds forced even to your own ears. "No, he doesn't. We're just friends."
"Friends don't look at eachother like that," Quinn insists. "Just... be careful, okay? He's my little brother. You're... you."
Later that night, you find Jack sitting alone on the dock, staring out at the moonlit water. You sit beside him, careful not to get too close.
"Quinn talk to you?" he asks, not looking at you.
"Yeah."
"He's right, you know."
"About what?"
Jack turns to face you then, his expression raw in the moonlight. "About me not seeing you as just a friend."
Your heart pounds against your ribs, suddenly aware of every place your body nearly touches his. "Jack..."
"I know," he says quickly, holding up his hands. "I know what Quinn said. About you being off-limits. I've heard it my whole life. But this summer... it's different."
You don't know what to say, your mind racing with implications you've never allowed yourself to consider before. Jack, Quinn's little brother, the boy you've watched grow up, the one who's always been there, just on the edge of your awareness.
"I should go," you say, standing up abruptly.
"Wait." Jack's hand closes around your wrist, his touch sending that same spark through you. "Don't go because of Quinn. Go because you want to."
You look from his hand on your wrist to his eyes, pleading in the moonlight. And for the first time, you allow yourself to really see him, not as Quinn's little brother, not as your friend, but as someone else entirely.
"I'll see you in the morning," you say softly, pulling your hand away but not running like every instinct tells you to.
As you walk back to the cabin, you can feel Jack's eyes on you and you know with a certainty that scares you that this summer has changed everything.
could you do more with sid cros where maybe he sees the younger players hit on her again so he knocks her up
Claiming His Territory
pairing: Sidney Crosby x younger!reader
description: Sidney decides the only way to prove you belong to him is to breed you.
TW: MDNI, smut, breeding kink, jealous Sid, established relationship, power dynamics, creampie, unprotected sex.
masterlist
The low murmur of the bar blends with the clinking of glasses, but all Sidney can focus on is the scene across the room. Egor and Filip, two of the Penguins' promising players are leaning a little too close to you. Their laughter is too loud, their eyes lingering too long on the curve of your neck revealed by your dress. Sidney's grip tightens around his beer bottle, his knuckles turning white.
He remembers the charity gala last month, how they'd flocked around you then, too. You'd been polite, of course, always polite, but even then Sidney couldn´t help but feel jealous. He feels it now too.
"You going to let them talk to your girl like that?" Erik asks beside him, nudging him with his elbow.
Sidney doesn't answer. He just watches as Filip says something that makes you laugh, a genuine, beautiful sound that should be reserved for him. That's it.
He sets his bottle down with a sharp click against the bar top and crosses the room. His presence is immediate and undeniable. The younger players straighten up instantly, their playful demeanor vanishing under the weight of their captain's stare.
"Hey, Sid," Egor says, his voice suddenly nervous.
"Boys," Sidney acknowledges, his eyes fixed on you. "Enjoying your conversation?"
"We were just talking to..." Filip starts.
"I know what you were doing," Sidney cuts in, his voice low and dangerous. "But you're done now."
He doesn't wait for a response, simply takes your hand and pulls you away from them, from the bar, from everyone. His grip is firm but not painful, a clear statement of ownership.
"Babe, what...?" you start as he leads you toward the exit.
"They don't get to have you," he says, his voice rough with possessiveness. "Not like that."
The drive back to his place is silent but charged with tension. His hand rests on your thigh the entire time, fingers gripping you as if afraid you might disappear if he lets go.
The moment the front door closes behind you, he has you pressed against it, his body caging you in. His mouth claims yours in a hungry, demanding kiss that leaves no doubt about his intentions.
"Those boys don't know what to do with someone like you," he growls against your lips. "They don't know how to make you scream, how to make you beg."
You're breathless when he finally pulls back, your eyes wide with anticipation.
"Tell me you're mine," he demands, his eyes dark with desire. "Say it."
"I'm yours, Sid," you whisper and that's all the encouragement he needs.
He lifts you like you weigh nothing, carrying you to his bedroom. He lays you on his bed, his body covering yours immediately.
"I'm going to fuck a baby into you tonight," he promises, his voice low and husky. "I'm going to fill you up with my cum until it takes. Until you're round with my child and everyone knows who you belong to."
He makes quick work of your clothes, his hands and mouth worshiping every inch of exposed skin. When he finally enters you, it's with a deep, possessive thrust that has you arching off the bed.
"Oh fuck, baby," he groans, his forehead resting against yours. "You feel incredible wrapped around me. Gripping me so tight."
He sets a punishing pace, each thrust driving deeper, harder. His hands grip your hips, pulling you into him, ensuring he's as deep as possible. You can feel every ridge of his thick cock as it stretches you, the head dragging against your sensitive walls with each withdrawal before plunging back in. The stretch borders on painful but feels overwhelmingly good, your walls adapting to accommodate his size.
"Those boys can't give you this," he pants, his rhythm never faltering. "They can't fill you up like I can. This pussy was made for me, wasn't it? Made to take my cock, my cum and my baby."
His words turn you on more than you ever thought possible. You meet his thrusts eagerly, your body responding to his dominant energy, your walls clenching around him instinctively. You're so wet that he slides easily despite how tight you are, your arousal coating his cock and dripping down your thighs.
"That's it," he groans, feeling you tighten around him. "You feel that, baby? Your pussy's already trying to milk me. It knows what it wants, doesn't it? It wants my cum."
He shifts slightly, changing the angle just enough to hit that spot inside you that makes you see stars. His balls slap against your ass with each thrust, creating a lewd wet sound that mixes with your moans.
"Right there, isn't it?" he says with a satisfied smirk. "That's where I'm going to put my baby. Going to fuck you so deep, my cum will pool against your cervix. Want to feel me breeding you, don't you?"
The thought is so primal, so possessive, that it sends you over the edge. Your orgasm crashes over you, intense and overwhelming. Your body trembles uncontrollably as waves of pleasure crash over you, each one more intense than the last. Your muscles clench and release rhythmically, no longer under your conscious control.
"Fuck, yes," he groans, feeling you clench around him. "Show me how much you want my baby. Let that pussy milk me dry. That's my girl, coming all over my cock like you were made for it."
He follows you moments later, his release hot and deep inside you. You can feel the thick ropes of his cum painting your walls, so much of it that it begins to leak out around his cock despite how deep he is. He continues to thrust slowly, riding out your shared pleasure, ensuring every drop is settled deep within you. His cock pulses inside you with each spurt, the prominent veins throbbing against your sensitive flesh.
"Don't waste a drop," he murmurs against your neck, his hips still moving lazily. "We want to make sure it takes, don't we? Want to make sure this pretty little pussy does its job and gets pregnant with my baby."
When he finally collapses beside you, he pulls you into his arms, his body still humming with possessive energy. His hand rests possessively on your stomach, as if he can already feel the changes his seed will bring.
"You're mine," he murmurs against your hair. "And soon, everyone will know it when they see you carrying my child."
Hi, if it wasn't bothersome and when you can, please write one about Will's beard (because I'm obsessed with the photo that came out of him with the big beard) it's growing and the reader loves it so he scratches it with his beard all over his body, you can choose if you want fluff or smut or a mixture, thank you very much!
The Rough and the Smooth
pairing: Will Smith x female reader
description: You're really into Will's beard.
CW: Smut, mdni, oral sex (f receiving), beard appreciation.
The bedroom door clicks shut and you look up from your phone to see Will dropping his duffel bag by the closet. He looks exhausted, his shoulders slumped, but a slow smile spreads across his face when his eyes meet yours.
"Long day?" you ask, setting your phone aside and patting the empty space beside you on the bed.
"The longest," he groans, collapsing face-first onto the mattress. "I think Coach made us do extra laps just for fun."
You laugh, rolling onto your side to face him. Your fingers reach out, tracing the line of his jaw. He hasn't shaved in a few days and a rough stubble has started to shadow his face, making him look older, more rugged than usual.
"Mmm, I like this," you murmur, your thumb brushing against the grainy texture of his cheek. "The beard suits you."
Will turns his head to look at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Yeah? I was thinking about shaving it before the game tomorrow."
"Don't you dare," you say, a little too quickly. "It's… nice."
His eyes darken slightly, a knowing glint in them. "Just nice?"
You feel a blush creep up your neck. "Really nice," you amend, your voice softer now.
Will shifts, propping himself up on one elbow as he looks down at you. "How nice?" he asks, his voice dropping to that low register that always makes your stomach flutter.
You bite your lip, suddenly feeling shy under his intense gaze. "Really, really nice."
His free hand comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin. The roughness of his stubble contrasts with the softness of his touch, sending a shiver through you.
"Show me how much you like it," he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours.
The kiss is slow at first, a gentle exploration that quickly deepens into something more demanding. You can feel the scratch of his beard against your chin, your upper lip, a delicious friction that makes you want more.
"Will," you breathe against his mouth, your hands tangling in his hair.
"Hmm?" he hums, his mouth moving to your jaw, then your neck. Each kiss is accompanied by the scrape of his stubble, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.
"Please," you whisper, not even sure what you're asking for.
He pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours. "Please what, baby? Use your words."
You swallow hard, your heart pounding. "I want… I want your mouth."
A slow smile spreads across his face. "My mouth, huh? Where do you want it?"
You know what he wants you to say, but the words get stuck in your throat. Instead, you take his hand, guiding it down between your legs where you're already aching for him.
"Here," you manage, your voice barely audible.
Will's grin widens. "Here? You want my mouth here?"
You nod, your cheeks burning with embarrassment and need.
"Say it," he commands softly. "Tell me what you want."
"I want you to eat me out," you whisper, the words feeling both shameful and liberating. "Please, Will."
"Good girl," he murmurs, rewarding you with another kiss before moving down your body.
He takes his time, worshiping every inch of you with his hands and his mouth. By the time he settles between your thighs, you're already trembling with anticipation.
"Look at me," he says, his voice gentle but firm. "I want to see your face when I make you come."
You force your eyes open, meeting his gaze as he lowers his head. The first touch of his tongue against your clit makes you gasp, your hips arching off the bed. But it's the feeling of his stubble against your inner thighs that really drives you wild, a rough friction that contrasts perfectly with the soft, wet heat of his mouth.
"God, Will," you moan, your hands tangling in his hair.
He hums against you, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure through your body. His tongue moves in slow circles, building your arousal gradually until you're squirming beneath him, desperate for more.
"Please," you beg, not even sure what you're pleading for. "Please, please, please."
Will takes pity on you, increasing the pressure, his movements faster now. The combination of his tongue and his beard is overwhelming, pushing you closer and closer to the edge with each passing second.
"That's it," he murmurs against you, his voice muffled by your flesh. "Let go for me, baby. Come for me."
Your orgasm crashes over you, a strangled cry escaping your lips as waves of pleasure wash over you. Will doesn't stop, his mouth and his beard working you through every last spasm until you're completely spent, trembling and boneless.
When he finally pulls away, his face is glistening with your arousal, his expression smug and satisfied. He crawls up your body, capturing your lips in a possessive kiss that lets you taste yourself on his tongue.
"You taste amazing," he murmurs against your mouth. "But I think I could use another taste."
You laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck as he settles between your thighs again. "I think that can be arranged."
Imagine Will singing for you when you can’t fall asleep
NIGHT TERRORS
will smith x reader
summary: you have trouble sleeping due to night terrors. when you wake up in the middle of the night because of a nightmare, will wakes up and sings you back to sleep
cw: 765
wc: fluff
an: thank you so much to whoever requested this. i think this idea is so cute, and i didn’t know which will to do so i did will smith since i feel like he matches this scenario the most. requests are open!! sorry this is so short but i hope it’s still good!
Night terrors were the worst part about nighttime. Once the sun goes to bed and the moon awakes, a fear inside your mind awakes with it. You have struggled with them since you were an infant, making sleeping alone a challenge. Once the lights shut off and it was time for you to fall asleep, the horrid faces emerged from the darkness behind your eyes. Sleeping medications became your fourth meal of the night along with a glass of water to wash it down.
You learned to cope with the dreams, reminding yourself that it's all inside of your head. That they cannot hurt you. Tonight, however, the terrors were too much to bear alone. Your dreams were polluted with disturbing images and sounds that made you convulse with fear, thrashing and kicking in a means to escape. “Stop it!” You yelled into the dark abyss. “Stop it!” The echo of your screams mocked you, like it was the only one to hear your desperate cries.
You shot up in the bed, drenched in sweat and gasping. No matter how much air you breathed in, it didn’t calm your nerves. The air around you was stuffy and polluted, just like your mind.
“Y/n?” Will murmured, turning over to face you whilst rubbing the sleepiness out of his eyes. Once his eyes adjusted, he noticed the horrified look in your eyes. He frowned and sat up with you, inviting you into his arms. “Come here, baby.”
You fell into his arms, clinging to him desperately whilst resting your head against his bare chest.
The steady beating of his heart matched the calmness of his breaths, like a breeze from the saline ocean. “Did you have another nightmare?” he asked, his voice a low whisper.
You nodded while looking down at your fidgeting fingers. He let out a long exhale and reached over to his nightstand, grabbing his water bottle and handing it to you. “Here, drink up.” You glanced up at him, frowning. You didn’t want to make him feel like he had to baby you, you were a grown up after all, it shouldn’t be his responsibility. “Come on, y/n,” Will insisted this time.
Defeated, you took the bottle from his hands and took a sip from the straw. The water was ice cold and fresh, like scooping water from the everglades and drinking it from the palm of your hands.
“Feel better?” He asked, noticing as the tension in your body released. You nod, handing him the water bottle once again. He put it on the stand and turned his attention back to you.
Still with you in his arms, he leaned back onto the mattress, nuzzling closer to his hot, soft skin.
The room was pitch black, but you looked up at him anyway because you memorized every detail of his face. If asked to, you knew you would be able to perfect his face, even if you were asked to draw it blindfolded.
He rubbed circles against your back, calmly humming to himself. It filled your heart with a warm
tingling feeling. “Will you sing for me?” You asked timidly. It was a weird request, especially due to how old you were, but music always soothed you better than anything else. Music reaches the mind and soul the way words cannot.
“Of course, I will,” He answered without a second thought. He started singing, slow and soft. The husk and grumbles in his voice soothed you in a way you could not describe it. Each tensed muscle in your body began to loosen up and fall asleep, like a lightbulb flickering off.
It started at your feet, and as the calmness from his voice rippled up your body, it shut each muscle off and sent them to bed. Your eyes grew heavier as you battled sleep head on. Your blinks grew slower and heavier, as sleep conquered your body. His voice, a soft melodic hum, had such an effect on your body, something like a lullaby.
Being in his arms made you feel safe. You knew he would not let anything harm you, because you were his to protect. The anxiety caused by the terrors melted away with his singing, making you finally surrender as you let yourself fall asleep. You wish you could melt into Will, but you settled on snuggling him as tight as you could. The closest two human souls can be in such an intimate way. Once he finished and you were half asleep, you felt him kiss your forehead and whisper, “Good night, Y/n.”
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