Hey, would be open to writing another Ben Kindel x reader fic? Maybe something where he has been very irritable lately, which the team notices, because he and reader haven't had sex in a while, which they fix when he gets home from a game, and the next day he shows up to practice and is a lot more passive and satisfied and happy again, and the team chirps him for obvious reasons??
Tension Release
pairing: Ben Kindel x female reader
description: Ben has been irritable lately and after a much-needed night together, his satisfied mood at practice the next day makes it obvious to his teammates what (or who) was responsible for his improved attitude.
TW: Implied sexual content, mild angst, established relationship.
masterlist
The apartment feels too quiet when you hear the key in the lock. Ben's been a ghost lately, coming home late from practice, his jaw tight, his answers clipped. You know it's not just the stress of the season, it's the distance that's grown between you, the unspoken tension that's been building for weeks.
The door swings open and he's there, dropping his duffel bag with a heavy thud. His shoulders are slumped, exhaustion etched into every line of his face. He doesn't even look at you as he kicks off his shoes.
"Tough practice?" you ask softly from the couch.
He just grunts in response, heading straight for the kitchen. You hear the fridge open, the clink of a bottle against the counter. When he returns, he's nursing a beer, avoiding your gaze.
"Ben," you try again, "talk to me. What's going on?"
"Nothing," he says, but the word is sharp, brittle. "Just tired."
You know it's more than that. You've barely touched each other in weeks, ships passing in the night between his schedule and yours. The absence of intimacy has created a void that's filled with unspoken resentment.
"Is it me?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.
Finally, his eyes meet yours, and what you see there makes your heart ache. "No," he says, his voice softer now. "God, no. It's not you. It's just... everything. The pressure, the losing streak, and..." He trails off, running a hand through his hair.
"And us?" you supply gently.
He nods, setting his beer down on the coffee table. "I miss you," he admits. "I miss this." He gestures between you. "I feel like I'm failing at everything lately, and I'm taking it out on you."
You reach for his hand, pulling him down onto the couch beside you. "You're not failing at anything," you say, lacing your fingers through his. "And you're definitely not failing at this. We're both just... busy. Tired."
"Still," he says, turning to face you, his free hand coming up to cup your cheek. "I've been an ass. The guys have noticed too. Rutger asked if I needed to get laid."
Despite the tension, you huff out a laugh. "Well, he's not wrong."
Ben's lips curve into a slow smile, the first genuine one you've seen from him in weeks. "No, he's not." He leans in, his lips brushing against yours. "I've missed this," he murmurs against your mouth. "Missed touching you."
You respond by deepening the kiss, your arms wrapping around his neck to pull him closer. It's been too long since you've felt this, since you've connected like this. The tension in his shoulders begins to melt away as he kisses you back, his hands roaming your body with renewed familiarity.
"Bedroom," he says against your lips, already standing and pulling you with him.
Once inside, he closes the door behind you, creating a bubble of intimacy. His movements are unhurried as he helps you out of your clothes, his eyes appreciative as he exposes each inch of skin. "God, I've missed this," he breathes, his hands tracing patterns on your waist. "Missed seeing you like this."
His lips find yours again, deeper this time, more demanding. When he finally lays you down on the bed, settling between your legs, you feel like you can finally breathe again.
"Show me how much you've missed me," you whisper, your hands tangling in his hair.
He responds with a slow, deliberate thrust that makes you gasp. "I plan to," he murmurs against your ear, his movements unhurried, savoring every moment. "Plan to remind you exactly what you've been missing."
The next morning, you wake up to the sound of Ben's alarm. He groans, tightening his arm around your waist. "Five more minutes," he mumbles into your hair.
"You have practice," you remind him, though you make no move to get up either.
"Don't wanna go," he says, pressing soft kisses to your neck. "Wanna stay here with you."
"As tempting as that is," you say, turning in his arms to face him, "you have to go. But maybe... tonight?"
His eyes light up. "Yeah?"
"Yeah," you confirm, leaning in for a quick kiss. "And every night after that, if you keep smiling like that."
He's still smiling when he leaves for practice, his steps lighter than they've been in weeks. You spend the day in a state of contentment, the tension that's been plaguing you both finally broken.
The locker room buzzes with the familiar sounds of skates being sharpened and sticks being taped as Ben walks in, a noticeable spring in his step. He's humming under his breath, a stark contrast to the storm cloud that's been following him for weeks.
Rutger is the first to notice, looking up from taping his stick with a slow, knowing smirk. "Well, well, well. Look who decided to rejoin the land of the living. Ben, you almost look human today."
Ben just grins, grabbing his gear from his stall. "Good morning to you too, Rutger."
"Morning?" Rutger repeats, raising an eyebrow. "Dude, it's practically Christmas morning the way you're smiling. Someone get lucky last night?"
Before Ben can respond, Fantilli chimes in from across the room, not even looking up from his phone. "Lucky? That's not a smile, that's a man who's finally been exorcised."
A few guys snicker as Ben's face flushes slightly. "Shut up, Fantilli."
"Oh, he's blushing!" Crosby calls out, walking in with his protein shake. "That's the confirmation right there. Kindel's been properly serviced."
Brindley joins in too, leaning against the stall next to Ben's. "I was gonna ask if your grandma died or something, considering how miserable you've been. But now I see it was just a severe case of blue balls. Glad to see the crisis has been averted."
"Seriously, man," Stojakovic adds, walking by with his gear. "You were playing like your stick was stuck up your ass. If this is the secret to unlocking your performance, your girlfriend deserves a championship ring."
Ben just shakes his head, but he can't stop smiling. "You guys are ridiculous and I hate all of you."
"No, you don't," Rutger says, grinning. "You're too happy to hate anyone right now. Just do us all a favor and make sure it's a regular maintenance thing, yeah? For the sake of the team."
When Ben comes home, he's practically glowing. "The guys noticed," he says, dropping his bag and wrapping you in a hug. "Couldn't stop chirping me."
"Oh yeah?" you ask, pulling back to look at him. "What did they say?"
He's laughing now, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Rutger took one look at me and said, 'Well, someone got their tension relieved.' Then someone asked if I'd finally gotten laid, and Fantilli just started making obnoxious moaning noises."
You can't help but laugh at the image. "And what did you say?"
"What could I say?" he asks, pulling you closer. "They were right." He lowers his voice, his lips brushing against your ear. "Told them I had the best night of my life and planned to repeat it as often as possible."
His confession sends a fresh thrill through you. "Often as possible, huh?"
"Often as possible," he confirms, his lips finding yours in a deep, satisfied kiss. "Starting now."
Ben Kindel x Malkin Reader
Word count: 1101
Summary: Talking to a pretty girl after a game is stressful enough. Discovering her father is Evgeni Malkin is where things start to go very, very wrong.
Genre: Fluff, Cute meet, Hockey Romance, Protective Parent.
You were standing just off to the side of the family section after the game, talking to someone who he couldn’t quite see yet, dressed in jeans and an oversized Penguins jersey, with a smile that had made his brain stop working for at least 5 seconds.
Which was embarrassing, because he was not usually this pathetic over a pretty girl.
Usually.
“Kindy.” Sidney Crosby's voice came from beside him, “You good?”
Ben blinked, “Yep.”
“You’ve been looking over there for the last five minutes.”
“I have not.”
“You absolutely have.”
Ben tore his eyes away from you.
“Shut up.”
Sid snorted and skated off toward the locker room, leaving Ben to stand there pretending he had anything better to do than keep glancing back over.
He didn’t, and apparently the universe found his suffering amusing, because a few minutes later, you looked up and caught him.
Ben froze.
You smiled, actually smiled, at him.
Well.
There went his dignity.
Before he could overthink it, he pushed himself awkwardly in your direction, mentally trying to remember how conversations actually worked.
You noticed him approaching and tilted your head slightly to the side.
“Hey.”
Ben seemed to forget every word in the English language.
“Hi,” he managed back after a moment of silence.
Great start.
Up close, you were somehow even prettier, which felt completely unfair.
You tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.
“Good game.”
“Oh uhh thanks.”
Another moment of silence passed.
Ben wanted to throw himself directly into the nearest wall.
You seemed to take notice of his panic because a small, amused smile tugged at your lips.
“I’m Y/N, by the way.”
Ben blinked. Okay, she’s giving me her name, this is good, names are good.
“I’m Ben. I mean, you probably already know that. Not in a weird way, but I just... Yeah. Ben.”
You stared at him for a second before laughing, not a mean laugh.
Thank God.
But a cute laugh, which somehow made this worse.
“It’s nice to meet you, Ben.”
“You too.”
Is he sweating? Why was he sweating? It's literally an ice rink.
You glanced towards the hallway behind him, “So, new rookie?”
He nodded, “Is it that obvious?”
“Just a little.”
Ben groaned, and you laughed again.
“I think it’s that terrified expression you have going on.”
“I’m not terrified.”
You lifted an eyebrow, and Ben reconsidered.
“Okay, maybe a little.”
“That’s fair.”
He smiled despite himself because talking to you seemed to be getting easier now, just slightly.
You asked him about the game, and he asked how often you came to them.
You told him your dad dragged you to most of the home games when schedules lined up.
Dad.
Right.
That should have been a normal enough sentence, but instead, the second those words left your mouth, a voice with a thick Russian accent cuts in from behind him.
“Y/n,”
Ben nearly jumped out of his skin.
You turned immediately.
“Hi, Papa.”
Papa.
Papa?
Ben looked up.
And directly into the face of Evgeni Malkin.
Ben’s soul left his body.
Geno looked between the two of you slowly.
Very slowly.
His expression was unreadable.
Ben briefly considered pretending to have a medical emergency.
“I’m just talking to Ben,” you said casually.
Geno stared at him for a moment before extending a hand to pat him on the arm.
Hard, his arm hurt after that.
Wonderful.
“You did well today,” Geno said.
“Thank you, sir.”
Sir?
Since when did he say, sir?
Geno gave one short nod before looking at you.
“You ready to go?”
You sighed dramatically.
“Okay.”
Then you looked back at Ben, smiling in return.
“It was nice meeting you.”
Ben swallowed.
“Yeah. You too.”
You waved once before walking off beside your father.
Ben stood there unmoving.
One of his teammates skated up beside him, not even ten seconds later.
“Well?”
Ben still hadn’t blinked.
“I think I just flirted with Evgeni Malkin’s daughter.”
His teammate burst out laughing.
“Oh, you are so done.”
Ben dropped his head into his hands.
“This is a nightmare.”
The next day at practice, Ben was fully prepared to avoid all eye contact and possibly change identities.
Unfortunately, that plan lasted approximately twelve minutes.
He was gathering pucks near the boards when a shadow fell beside him.
Ben looked up.
Geno.
Of course.
Ben nearly swallowed his tongue.
“Hello,” he said weakly.
Geno leaned on his stick.
“You like my daughter, yes?”
Ben choked.
“What?”
Geno stared.
Ben stared back.
There was absolutely no point in lying.
He looked guilty enough to be arrested.
“I... uh.”
Very articulate, Geno continued looking at him.
Then, to Ben’s complete shock, the corner of his mouth twitched.
“You can ask her out.”
Ben blinked.
Once.
Twice.
“I can what?”
Geno shrugged.
“She likes you.”
Ben’s brain fully shut down.
Before he could formulate a single functioning response, Geno pushed off and skated away like he had not just changed the trajectory of Ben’s entire life.
Ben stood frozen on the ice.
Sid skated by.
“You look like you are gonna be sick.”
Ben turned slowly.
“I have permission.”
“What?”
“I have permission.”
Later that night, with his heart trying to escape through his throat, Ben stood outside the arena entrance where families usually waited.
You spotted him almost immediately.
Your smile widened.
“Well, hi again, rookie.”
Ben laughed nervously.
“Hey.”
You stepped closer.
“What’s with the panic this time?”
Ben rubbed the back of his neck. “So… funny story.”
You waited.
He inhaled once. “Your dad told me I could ask you out.”
There was a beat of silence.
Then your face lit up with amusement.
“Oh my god, he did not.”
“He did.”
You laughed, covering your face for a second. “That is so embarrassing.”
“For you or for me?”
“Both, probably.”
Ben smiled, and some of his nerves settled when you smiled back.
He cleared his throat.
“Anyway, now that I apparently have official authorization…” he paused. “Do you maybe want to get coffee with me sometime?”
You tilted your head like you were pretending to think.
Ben almost passed out, but then you smiled at him.
“I’d love to.”
Ben let out a breath.
You laughed. “Relax, Kindy. You look like you’ve just survived a near death experience.”
He looked at you.
At your teasing smile.
At the arena doors, where Geno was probably somewhere inside.
And then back at you.
“Honestly,” he admitted. “it kind of feels like I have.”
Summary: As Sidney’s daughter, you’re used to playing host and showing newbies around, so when you meet Ben you take him under your wing.
Note: Different Crosby!Reader than the Macklin one lol. Ik I had the poll and everything but then this request came in and it was so cute I wanted to do it
The first Penguins team event you ever went to, you were small enough to fit in the crook of Sidney Crosby’s arm. There are pictures somewhere, your tiny fist grabbing his tie, the expression on his face is a mixture of proud and terrified. He was twenty-something and already carrying the weight of a franchise, trying to balance that and being a dad.
Since then you’ve been to every charity gala, every team dinner and family skate. Every draft party where the room filled with loud teammates and flowing champagne. You learned early on how to properly shake hands, how to smile for pictures without looking frozen or crazy. And how to rescue a rookie trapped in a conversation with a sponsor who won’t stop talking about golf.
By eighteen, this environment feels like yours just as much as it is your dads. So when you step into the ballroom for tonight’s charity event, in heels instead of light-up Sketchers, you feel like you belong. Because you do.
You move easily alongside your dad in a dress you picked out weeks ago, your dad pretended that he didn’t care what you wore but he vetoed the red dress you had originally decided on.
“Remember to stay out of trouble.” He murmurs beside you, adjusting the sleeves of his suit jacket.
“You say that every year.” You remind him.
“And every year you get smarter.”
“That’s literally how aging works.” You quip back, grinning.
Your dad laughs quietly as his eyes scan the room.
“Oh, over here.There’s someone I want you to meet.” He says, eyes locking on someone across the room.
“Is this another ‘he just got here so play nice’ situation?”
Sidney gives you a look, the one that says yes and also please. Having a single dad in the NHL means you’ve always been part daughter and part host, so you know how to make people feel welcome.
You finally notice who your dad is looking at. A new rookie, standing near the wall, awkward like he’s waiting for someone to tell him where to go. He’s nodding absentmindedly at a man in a suit, who seems to be talking his ear off.
“That’s Ben Kindel. He’s a good kid.” Your dad tells you.
“That translates to ‘be nice’.”
“It translates to ‘he’s new’.” Sidney corrects.
You notice his emphasis on that.
You look back at Ben and catch him staring, eyes widening at the man next to you. He straightens up as the two of you approach.
“Ben, this is my daughter.” Your dad introduces.
You extend your hand to Ben as you smile. He shakes it.
“Uh, yeah. Hi. I’ve heard about you.” Ben says, a little rambly, but you don’t mind.
“Only good things, I hope.” You say, laughing.
His face heats up slightly. “Yeah, of course. Mostly about how you’ve been running these things since you were five.”
“Six.” You jokingly correct, and Ben laughs slightly.
Your dad is dragged away again, of course. He’s been being pulled every which way since you got here. But now it’s just you and the rookie, standing on the far side of the room. You take a deep breath.
“Okay, let’s go get a drink.” You say, looping your arm through his and pulling him towards the bar.
“Oh…I can’t, I’m eighteen.” He starts to say, but you cut him off.
“No, me too. But we can get something else. Like sparkling soda or a Shirley Temple or something.” You explain. “You gotta do something or else we’ll just stand awkwardly, y’know?”
He nods as you order drinks. You stand off to the side taking small sips as the two of you survey the room.
“It feels like everyone is watching me.” He admits to you.
“Oh, they are.”
Ben’s eyes go wide.
“But, like, not in a bad way.” You add quickly. “You’re just new, y’know. They’re curious.”
“And you’re not new.” He states.
“Definitely not, I’ve been coming to these things forever. I learned how to kiss ass before I could walk.” You joke.
And Ben laughs, you can tell he’s finally loosening up, finally relaxing a bit. The two of you fall into a comfortable silence again, sipping your drinks, staring around the room.
“So,” Ben starts, turning back towards you, setting his drink back on the bar. “Any embarrassing stories about your dad you want to share?”
You raise an eyebrow at that. “Bold move. Looking for dirt on the captain already?”
He smiles at that, the grin lighting up his face. “I’m just trying to survive out here.”
“You think blackmail is gonna help you survive?”
“Information is power.”
“That’s a good fucking quote, Ben Kindel.” You laugh.
And he laughs too. And so you tell him about your dad. About the time he tried to make pancakes for dinner and set off all the smoke detectors in the house. About how he tries to pretend he’s not competitive at board games, but he definitely is. And the time he tried to cut his own hair before playoffs and was stuck with an uneven cut for weeks. And Ben laughs at each one.
“Okay, now you owe me one.” You say to Ben.
And you can tell he’s thinking about it because his face is getting redder.
“Okay, my most embarrassing story is from picture day. We were all dressed up in vests and we looked like some barbershop quartet but I’m just happy to be there. But then I notice everyone is looking at me and laughing. And it took me way too long to realize that it was because my tie was on the outside of my vest.” He tells you, and now you’re laughing and he looks like he’s still experiencing that moment with how pained his face looks.
“Oh that’s awful.” You breathe out between giggles.
His face morphs from embarrassment to laughing too.
“Yeah, it was pretty bad. You’re dad thought they had told me to do that.”
“Brutal.” You mutter, shaking your head.
Ben smiles, nodding at that. As the two of you sit there, sipping your drinks in silence, the room keeps moving along. Some players glance your way and you smile back, others give knowing smirks at Ben. He sees that, and uncomfortably shifts on his feet, face heating up slightly.
“You don’t get nervous about all this?” He asks you, quiet.
You glance across the room to where your dad is standing. He’s mid conversation, good posture and pleasant smile like he always talks about.
“I used to.” You admit to Ben. “When I was little I thought that if I ever messed up it would reflect on him. One time in school, I got a C on a test, and I was so nervous I threw up and they had to send me home. But he wasn’t mad, he wasn’t even a little upset. He just helped me study for the next one.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Now I know he just wants me to be happy.”
“Wow… honestly you’re not what I was expecting.”
“Am I disappointing you?” You joke.
Ben shakes his head quickly.
“No, I just thought you’d be more… I don’t know. Famous, kind of. Like proper, like you grew up here and you’re comfortable here, but you don’t act like you’re better than anyone.”
“I know I’m not. We’re the same, if anything you’re better than me. You actually play hockey.” You say, grinning.
Ben smiles again, when you notice a photographer out of the corner of your eye, his camera raised. Ben sees it too and he tenses up. You instinctively angle yourself, subtly posing. You tap Ben’s wrist lightly.
“Hey. Just pretend you’re talking to me.” You say quietly, just for him to hear.
“We are talking.” He points out, obviously.
“Exactly.”
And the flash goes off. When it’s finally over Ben lets out a deep breath.
“You’re good at this stuff.”
“I’ve had eighteen years of practice.”
There’s a pause, and you’re at that point in the conversation where it could end naturally and you two could go your separate ways, or you could stay here, move forward with whatever this is.
Ben decides to stay.
“So what happens now? Do I get a full orientation from you? Penguins survival guide?” He asks.
You pretend to think about it, tapping your chin with a finger. “Let’s see…rule number one: never challenge my dad to a ping pong game. You will lose and he will gloat.”
“Understood.”
“Rule number two: if Geno or the other older guys start chirping you, just chirp back. They’ll respect it.”
“Okay, I get that.”
“And three: stop acting like you don’t belong.”
Ben goes quiet, just holding your gaze. He straightens up slightly.
“What if I don’t though?”
“Then fake it ‘til you make it. But you do. You earned your spot. They all know that.” You say.
He glances around the room at the other teammates, and your dad catches his eye, watching carefully.
“They’re gonna chirp me about this.” Ben says, and it’s not a question.
“Probably. But if you make it through this you’re basically in.”
“In? With Sidney?”
“And me.” You say.
For a second Ben looks surprised, then he starts grinning slightly, glancing down at the floor.
“I guess I better not mess this up.”
And when you look at him, it feels like you’re not just talking to someone as “Sidney Crosby’s daughter”, it’s really you. And he’s really seeing you. And you think maybe this is the beginning of something that’s just yours.
So when Ben’s hand brushes yours accidentally (not), you don't pull away.
Content Warnings: whiny ben, secret relationship, little brothers
AN: I'm still figuring out my plans for this au bc they deserve their own story!
Synopsis: you try to squeeze in one last quality date with Ben before he heads out on a grueling three-week road trip, but hiding a secret relationship while being hockey royalty is an extreme sport. When your dad forces your little brother Nikita to tag along for "family time," your plans to properly say goodbye to your boyfriend are entirely hijacked. When Nikita catches you sneaking a frantic goodbye kiss in the garage, you have to find a way to explain why you and your dad’s rookie teammate look like "kissing friends" without accidentally blowing your entire six-month secret.
part one part two part three
The Penguins’ practice facility had become a second home to you over the years. I mean, of course it did. You took your first steps in the locker room.
"You're late," Ben said, leaning against the boards with his skates already laced, gloves tucked under his arm. "We were all worried sick!" His grin was crooked, the kind that made your stomach flip every time.
You snorted, shoving your bag into your locker. "No you weren't. Look at Sid, he's asleep right now."
"No I'm not."
You rolled your eyes and turned toward the equipment room, but Ben's glove hooked your sleeve, yanking you backward. "Noooooo come back!"
You sighed but couldn’t suppress the grin tugging at your lips as his fingers lingered on your sleeve, warm even through the fabric. “You’re such a pest."
Ben trailed behind you into the equipment room like a lost puppy, his skates scraping against the concrete floor in a way that would’ve earned him a glare from any of the trainers. You pretended not to notice him hovering, deliberately slow as you rummaged through the bins of tape rolls, even though you knew exactly where yours was. The silence stretched, thick with the smell of sweat and sharp new rubber, until Ben exhaled dramatically and slumped against the doorframe.
"Y/NNNNNNNNNNNNNN," he whines, dragging out your name like a child denied candy.
"Mmm, yes?" You turn just in time to catch the full force of his pout, lips jutting out, eyebrows doing that pathetic little wiggle that makes him look like a kicked puppy.
"Benny… don't look at me like that," you mutter, but your resolve is already crumbling. Ben sees it, and his pout deepens, eyes widening just enough to make them glint under the fluorescent lights. His fingers twitch at his side like he's physically restraining himself from grabbing you outright.
The tape rolls clatter against the metal shelf as you abandon them entirely, their rattle drowned out by the sharp intake of Ben’s breath when your hands fist in the front of his practice jersey. His mouth is warm and familiar, and his hands are everywhere: cupping your jaw, sliding into your hair, skimming down your ribs like he’s trying to map the spaces he missed.
"Happy now?" you mutter against his mouth, but he’s already shaking his head, chasing your lips when you pull back just to tease him. His nose bumps yours, clumsy, and you can feel the curve of his smile when he murmurs, "Nope. Try again."
"Try again?" you huff, but Ben's already nodding, eyes bright with that familiar, irresistible mischief. His fingers dig into your hips, tugging you flush against him, and you swear you can feel the rapid thud of his heartbeat through the layers of his gear. "You're ridiculous," you mumble, but it's half-hearted at best—your hands are already sliding into his hair, fingers tangling in the soft strands at the nape of his neck.
Ben whines, high and needy, the sound muffled against your lips when you kiss him again, slower this time. His grip tightens, pulling you impossibly closer, like he’s trying to memorize the shape of you before he leaves. The thought makes your chest ache—one night was bad enough, but this time it’s a three-week-long road trip, half the continent between you and his stupid face. You bite down on his bottom lip, just hard enough to make him gasp, and he melts against you with a shudder.
"Gonna miss you," he murmurs between kisses, voice rough, and you can't tell if it's the admission or the way his thumbs trace circles over your hip bones that makes your breath catch.
The sound of voices outside the equipment room door slices through the quiet like a skate blade on fresh ice—your dad’s unmistakable Russian baritone, followed by Sid’s dry, amused reply.
“Y/N here yet?” The question—your dad’s voice, all rough edges and barely contained exhaustion—carried through the half-open door of the equipment room. You froze, Ben’s mouth still pressed to yours, his fingers twitching against your ribs like he was debating whether to let go or pull you closer.
“Yeah,” Sid answered, “went to grab tape. Ben went to help.”
"Ah, I figured they were together."
You and Ben spring apart like someone dumped a bucket of pucks between you. His hands, which had been warm and steady on your hips a second ago, fumble for the nearest shelf as you lunge for a stray helmet rolling near your feet. The camera. The camera. That’s what you were supposed to be in here for.
The door creaked open wider, and your dad’s broad frame filled the doorway, his practice jersey hanging loose over his shoulders. He blinked at the two of you and raised an eyebrow. "Everything okay?"
"Hi, Geno," Ben chirped, voice cracking just enough to make your teeth clench. He cleared his throat and tried again, louder. "Just helping Y/N out."
Your dad’s gaze flicked between you, slow and assessing, and for one terrifying second, you were sure he knew. But then his face split into that familiar, lopsided grin, and he clapped a heavy hand on Ben’s shoulder. "Good. Come, warm-up starts soon. Sidney ask for you."
-------------
"'Kay, bye Dad. Ben and I are going out but we'll be back soon."
The words take your brother hit your ears like a puck to the ribs—unexpected, bruising, and entirely unfair. You freeze mid-step, halfway through pulling your hoodie over your practice jersey, and whip around to face your dad. "Seriously?" The whine in your voice is unbecoming, but you can't help it. "We're just gonna grab food. Why does Nik have to come?"
Your dad raises one eyebrow, slow and deliberate, like he’s waiting for you to hear yourself. Behind you, Ben’s already bouncing on his toes near the door, keys dangling from his fingers, trying—and failing—to hide his smirk. "Because," your dad says, shrugging into his jacket, "is family time. You don’t see him all week, now you complain? You have no plans today."
You open your mouth, then close it. What are you supposed to say? Actually, Dad, I was planning on getting Ben’s tongue down my throat in the backseat of his car, maybe dry hump a little, and Nikita’s presence severely complicates that agenda?
You huff, loud and dramatic, scuffing your shoe against the rubber mat by the locker room door. "I do have plans, dad" you insist, crossing your arms tight enough to feel the press of your own elbows through your hoodie. "You guys leave tomorrow and I wanted to spend some time with my friend before he leaves."
Your dad blinks at you, slow and unimpressed, the way he does when you're being ridiculous but he's too tired to call you out properly. "Plans?" he echoes, glancing pointedly at Ben—who’s suddenly very interested in the frayed edge of his shoelace. "What plans? You eat, you talk, same as with Nikita."
Instead of responding, you groan loud enough that Sid glances up from his stall across the room, eyebrows raised. “Fine,” you mutter, stomping away like a toddler denied dessert. “I’ll be right back with Nikita."
Ben leans against the wall outside the locker room, twirling his keys around his finger with practiced ease. Your dad lingers nearby, digging through his duffel bag like he hasn’t already emptied half its contents onto the bench. “So,” he says, voice casual, eyes still fixed on some imaginary item he’s pretending to search for, “where you kids going?”
Ben shrugs, glancing toward the locker room door like he can see right through it to where you’re sulking inside. “We were gonna go to Subway, but I'll ask what Niko wants."
Your dad hums, nodding absently. “What a kind young man.” He zips the bag shut, then straightens, fixing Ben with a look that’s somehow both pointed and utterly blank. “No accidents, da?”
You emerge from the locker room with Nikita trailing behind, your pout exaggerated enough that Ben has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning. He wants to drag you into the nearest empty hallway, press you against the wall, and kiss that sulky expression right off your face—but instead, he shoves his hands in his pockets and nods at Nikita. "Hey, Niko," he says, easy as breathing. "Subway sound good, or you wanna hit up that burger place by the rink?"
-------
"Niki, go inside and play on your Switch. I need to talk to Ben."
Nikita’s footsteps barely fade inside before you’re already halfway across the console, fingers twisting into the fabric of Ben’s hoodie. He barely has time to inhale before your mouth crashes into his, all teeth and desperation. Ben makes a muffled sound against your lips, half-surprise, half-relief, his hands flying up to cradle your jaw like you’re something fragile even as you bite down on his bottom lip hard enough to make him gasp.
Ben’s mouth is warm and yielding under yours, his grip on your hips tightening as you shift closer across the center console. His fingers slide under the hem of your hoodie, skimming over bare skin, and you shiver—not from the cold garage air, but from the way his breath hitches when you nip at his lower lip.
You pull away just as the garage door groans open again—perfect timing, because Nikita’s knuckles rap against the passenger window three seconds later, sharp and impatient. Ben’s lips are still parted, his breath coming out in short pants, and you have to physically turn his face toward the door with both hands before Nikita notices the flush creeping up his neck.
Nikita’s nose wrinkles as he peers through the fogged-up window, his breath leaving little condensation circles on the glass. "Did you guys lick the car?" he asks, voice muffled, and you swear Ben chokes on air beside you.
You yank the passenger door open and step out before Nikita can lean in further. "What, Kita?" you say, trying not to sound frustrated. "What's up?"
Nikita blinks up at you, utterly oblivious, his winter coat zipped all the way to his chin like a tiny astronaut. "I can’t find my Switch." He frowns.
"Where's mom?"
"I dunno."
You turn, flashing an apologetic smile at Ben before he can even pout. His shoulders slump theatrically, but the corner of his mouth quirks up anyway—that stupid, soft smile he saves for moments like this, when the world keeps conspiring to keep you apart but he’s too fond of you to actually complain.
You sigh, "alright. Say bye to Ben."
"Bye, Ben," Nikita chirps, waving enthusiastically before bolting toward the house without a second glance.
"Love you," you murmur, leaning in through the passenger window for a kiss.
"Love you."
Nikita's voice—bright, curious, and entirely too loud—cuts through the quiet garage like a referee's whistle. "Are you and Ben kissing friends?" You jerk back from Ben's window so fast your head knocks against the doorframe, pain shooting down your spine.
"What? No." The lie bursts out of you too fast, too sharp. You clear your throat, force your voice into something resembling calm. "Go inside."
puppy ben smut where he's been on a trip and is dying to get home to you because he can't stand not touching you for another day. he's all whiny and needy and even his teammates start to notice on the last day that he's got something wrong going on. once he's home he refuses to be anywhere but going down on you or fucking you.
i love the way you write kindy so muchhh!!
Fulfill - BK81
Puppy!Ben Kindel x girlfriend!reader
Warnings: smut, mommy kink, dom/sub dynamics, oral sex (f!receiving), unprotected vaginal sex
Word Count: 1k
Your boyfriend had been away on a road trip for almost a week, and he was missing you like crazy. Of course, you missed him too, but you always did a better job of handling it than he did.
"What the hell is Kindy's problem today?" one of the guys, he wasn't sure exactly who, said under his breath in the locker room.
He recognized Geno's loud laugh even with his back turned, "he's not get fulfill while away from pretty girlfriend," he enunciated the word fulfill through his thick accent.
The locker room burst out into laughter. Luckily, Ben had his back turned so they couldn't see the way he blushed. A few more chirps were thrown his way before the commotion faded and the guys went back to getting ready for the game.
Just after everything died down, he felt a quick pat on his back, "you have been pretty moody today, kid," he heard Sid say, quietly enough that the other guys couldn't hear, "but don't worry, we go home tomorrow. Just get your head in the game for tonight, alright? We need you sharp out there." Another pat on the back and his captain was gone, presumably to continue with his usual pregame routines.
Ben had to take a few extra deep breaths before going out on the ice, but he managed to keep it together and play a good game.
The next day on the plane, however, was a different story.
He was being a complete and total brat, and he knew it, he just couldn't help it. Every time one of the guys talked to him, he gave a short, clipped response, sometimes even just a grunt or a shrug. Any question he was asked was answered with something sarcastic, annoyed, or whiny. Eventually, they all just stopped acknowledging him, leaving him to pout by himself.
A couple hours later, you were sitting on the couch when the apartment door opened and Ben walked in.
"Hey, babe," you smiled, but before you could even stand up, he was already flopping down on top of you. He'd abandoned his bags by the door and kicked his shoes off next to the couch so he could wrap himself around you.
"I missed you," he breathed the words out as he started kissing your neck.
"I missed you too, sweet boy," you told him, gently playing with his curls.
Before you knew it, your boyfriend was between your legs, tugging at your shorts while his tongue literally hung out of his mouth like a panting dog.
"Aw, are you hungry, puppy?"
His response was an enthusiastic nod. So you helped him get your shorts and panties off, and the second you were completely exposed to him, his mouth was on you.
He slurped at your wetness, his tongue sliding through your folds and over your clit. He ate you out sloppily, his every movement desperate. The sounds in the room were obscene, all loud wet slurping along with the satisfied whines he was letting out.
You didn't even try to hold off when you felt your climax approaching after a few minutes. You just let it take over your body, soft moans falling from your lips as you came.
Not even five minutes later, he had his own clothes shed and was pushing his throbbing hard dick into you. The whimper he let out as he bottomed out made you smile and wrap your arms around him.
“You missed me so much, didn’t you, puppy?”
Ben could only nod as he tucked his face into your neck.
“My poor boy,” you scratched his scalp gently, “so needy and horny, but you didn’t have mommy there to help you, huh?”
“Mommy,” he whined. His hips moved desperately, thrusting into you erratically to chase his high.
“I’m so sorry, baby,” you kissed his temple, “but you have me now. I’m here to make you feel good.”
“Feel so good, mommy,” he spoke against your skin.
His hands gripped your hips tightly, and for a second you worried about the awkward position the two of you were in on the couch, but Ben didn’t seem to care, so you didn’t mention it. He was still fucking into you like your vagina was his lifeline, breathing in your scent like it was oxygen.
“Such a good puppy,” you whispered breathlessly, encouraging him, “are you gonna cum for me?”
He nodded against your neck once again and seconds later you felt his thrusts get faster.
“Mommy,” he gasped, “can I? Please!”
“Go ahead, puppy,” you purposefully clenched down around him in hopes of pulling his orgasm from him, “show mommy how much you missed me.”
He came almost instantly. A broken whimper slipped from his lips and he stilled deep inside of you. Hot cum painted your insides and you let out a satisfied sigh, rubbing your boy’s back to work him through it.
Once he caught his breath, you helped him up from the couch and led him back to the bedroom.
For the rest of the night, he wouldn’t get off of you, not that you wanted him to. You loved that he missed you so much when he went away, and you especially loved that he wasn’t shy about showing it.
The next day, Ben walked into the locker room before morning skate with a beaming smile. His teammates noticed and he was immediately ambushed with chirps and questions about getting laid the night before. But through it all, his smile was unwavering. No amount of teasing could ruin your puppy’s mood.
A/N - I liked this while I was writing it but now idk about it oops sorry
A full fic idea for Ben Kindel x reader, maybe something like a really romantic vacation with them since it's the summer, and when he gets back and goes to practices and stuff, the team chirps him a lot and asks how it was and stuff??🫶🫶
Pairing: Ben Kindel x Fem!reader
Warnings: fluff, one sex comment.
You and Ben had went to the Bahamas during the offseason, you love the beach and had sweet talked him into taking you. So when he came back to Pittsburgh with a brand new tan and a smile on his face the team new he had a good vacation.
"Looking burned there Kindy" Geno says.
"I tanned" Ben replies.
"I think he's whipped" Letang says before making a whipping noise.
"What's your excuse?" Side asks Letang
Kris rolls his eyes and focuses back on Ben, "So what'd you do? Get sand everywhere? Fuck her on the beach?"
Ben turns red, "Kris that's inappropriate."
"I'm playing Kindy" Kris says.
"Seriously though, how was it?" Sidney asks giving Letang a look of behave.
"It was amazing" Ben says, "We had a romantic picnic on the beach before we came home. We went scuba diving, explored the beaches, had a bunch of good food."
"That's good, I'm glad you two had fun" Geno says.
Ben smiles before Letang opens his mouth to speak, "So you going to marry her?"
"Kris he's to young" Sidney says exasperated.
"Well" Ben says.
"What'd you do?" Geno asks
"I gave her a promise ring" Ben says, "I will marry her one day."
Letang makes a whipping noise, "Told you whipped."
The boys all chuckle before getting ready for practice, Ben doesn't stop smiling the whole time cause he is whipped for you.
Would you write smut with Ben Kindel about riding his face and rubbing your clit on his nose and just being obsessed with his nose? Please and thank you!
The Perfect Angle
pairing: Ben Kindel x female reader
description: You are obsessed with Ben's nose and how it feels against you.
TW: MDNI, smut, face-riding, established relationship.
masterlist
The soft glow of lamplight casts shadows across Ben's bedroom as you hover above him, your knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his head. He's looking up at you, his dark eyes filled with hunger and anticipation, his hands resting on your thighs.
"You going to stay up there all night or are you going to sit?" he asks, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through you.
You lower yourself slowly, savoring the moment before contact. His hands guide you down, positioning you exactly where he wants you. When your folds finally meet his mouth, you both let out a moan of satisfaction.
Ben's tongue immediately goes to work, licking and probing with expertise that comes from months of learning exactly what you like. But tonight, it's not just his mouth you're after. You shift slightly, adjusting your angle until your clit presses firmly against the bridge of his nose.
"Fuck," you breathe, the direct pressure sending waves of pleasure through you.
Ben chuckles against you, the vibration adding another layer of sensation. "Found the sweet spot, huh?"
You respond by grinding down, rubbing yourself against his nose in slow, deliberate circles. The combination of his tongue exploring your entrance and the steady pressure of his nose on your clit is intoxicating. You've always been obsessed with his nose, the straight line of it, the way it fits perfectly against your palm when you cup his face, the slight bump from where he broke it playing hockey as a teenager. But right now, you're obsessed with what it can do to you.
"God, your nose," you moan, increasing your pace. "It's perfect."
Ben grips your thighs tighter, encouraging your movements. His tongue continues its exploration as you use his face for your pleasure, unashamed and uninhibited. There's something about the power dynamic of this position, being in control, using him to chase your own pleasure, that drives you wild.
"You like that?" he asks, pulling back slightly to speak. "Using my face to get yourself off?"
You nod, unable to form coherent words as you continue to grind against him. His nose is slick with your arousal now, creating a delicious friction as you rub against it.
"Good," he says, his voice thick with desire. "Because I could stay here all night, letting you use me however you want."
The words send you closer to the edge. You lean forward, bracing your hands on the headboard as you ride his face more aggressively. Each pass of your clit against his nose builds the pressure, each flick of his tongue pushes you higher.
"Ben," you gasp, your thighs beginning to tremble. "I'm close."
He responds by intensifying his efforts, his tongue moving faster as you grind harder against his nose. The dual stimulation is almost too much, your entire world narrowing to the sensation building between your legs.
When your orgasm hits, it's explosive. You cry out as waves of pleasure crash over you, your body convulsing above him. Ben holds you steady, his tongue and nose working you through every contraction until you're spent and trembling.
You collapse beside him, breathing heavily as you try to recover. Ben turns to face you, his face glistening with your arousal.
"That was fucking hot," he says, leaning in to kiss you. You can taste yourself on his lips, a reminder of what just transpired.
"You're amazing," you reply, your voice still shaky. "Your nose should be illegal."
He laughs, nuzzling against your neck. "I aim to please."
You reach up to trace the line of his nose with your finger, smiling as he closes his eyes at the touch. "I could get used to this," you admit.
"Me too," he says, capturing your hand in his and bringing it to his lips for a soft kiss. "But next time, I want to be inside you when you come like that."
