“c’mon, doll, what’s the powerhouse of the cell?” toji asks as he stands behind you, one hand gripping a biology textbook, the other steadying your hip. you’re bent over the desk, panties shoved aside, his thick cock buried deep inside you, stretching you, but he’s still, maddeningly still, ignoring your needy whimpers. you’re soaked, clenching around him, but toji’s only giving you what you want when you earn it.
“um… mitochondria?” you gasp, mind foggy, hips twitching. he grins, thrusting once, hard, making you moan, desk creaking. “good girl,” he mutters, pulling back, cock unmoving again, leaving you aching. “next one. what’s the process where cells divide?” you whine, trying to grind back, but his hand pins you, firm. “answer,” he demands, flipping a page, voice teasing, “or i stay like this all night.”
“mitosis,” you say, arousal dripping down your thighs, and he rewards you, thrusting deep, slow, cock dragging against your walls, sending sparks through you. “fuck, you’re tight,” he groans, but stops, holding the book steady. “again. what’s dna’s structure?” your brain’s scrambling. “double… helix?” you guess, and he thrusts twice, rough, desk rattling, your moan loud. “that’s my smart girl,” but he’s still again, cock pulsing inside.
“toji, please,” you beg, but he chuckles, “wrong answer. try this—what’s the fluid in cells called?” you’re a mess, hips bucking, but he’s still not moving. “cytoplasm,” you cry, and he fucks into you, three hard thrusts, making you see stars, papers sliding off the desk. “fuck, you’re learning,” he growls, but pauses, book open. “one more, doll. what’s the sugar in dna?”
he keeps it up, question after question, each right answer earning a thrust, each wrong one leaving you aching, until you’re a needy mess, begging, “toji, i can’t—” he smirks, closing the book. “one more right, and i’ll fuck you stupid.”
Help a Juraj girl out I love you writing could you write a story about him 🥰🥰💋💋
PromptList
MasterList
“Juraj?” You smiled softly as you knocked on the door frame of the Habs changing room.
It was after game 4 that the Habs lost 5-2 to the Washington Capitals. One more loss and they were out of the series. You knew Juraj was going to be beating himself up about it, saying that it was his fault and that he should have tried harder. He seemed to carry the weight of the team on his shoulders when really it wasn't like that.
He looked up at you as he was sitting in his cubby. The only gear on his body was the lower half, his jersey and shoulder pads all off, leaving him shirtless; his hair was still slightly sweaty from the game.
His elbows were on his knees as he leaned over. He just looked away from you, staring at the space in front of him. You took that as an offer to come in. You walked in slowly and you sat on the bench across from him. You didn't say anything for a couple of seconds, worried that if you said the wrong thing you would step on a landmine.
“One more loss and that's it,” you heard him mumble. He ran his hand down his face.
You didn't know if he was talking to you or to himself, or just to anybody. You really couldn't find the words to say because no matter what you said it wasn't going to be enough to take the stress off of him or to calm his worries. He leaned back in his cubby, his back pressed up against the wood, his head tilted upwards towards the ceiling.
“One more loss and that's it,” he repeated.
You opened your mouth to speak. Before any words came out, Juraj continued on.
“We fucking had that game, we had that game. It was tied 2-2 in the second!” he ranted. “How the fuck did we lose by three? How the fuck do we let them get three by us?
”
You just looked at him and listened, and took a deep breath
.
“They got three goals in one period!” he continued. You noticed when you first started dating Juraj, when he gets stressed or feels too much of one emotion, he ends up talking with his hands a lot. His hands were out in front of him, gesturing and voicing his frustrations in a way that his words couldn't. He just continued on and on.
You reached over and grabbed his hands with yours, sitting on the edge of the bench, leaning in closer to him. The feeling of your hands interlacing with his cut him off mid-sentence, and he finally looked at you.
His cheeks were still a little bit red from the game, and probably red from all of his ranting. His eyebrows were knotted as he looked at you as if he was glaring, just at the thought of the game they just lost.
He stopped talking and just stared at you, expecting you to say something.
“Keep going,” you told him, giving him a nod.
He sighed before he spoke again.
“I just…” His voice was quieter this time, less intense than before. “Just don't know what happened
ned. We were so close to having that game.”
You could hear the exhaustion in his voice; the game tired him out physically just as much as it did mentally.
You squeezed his hands, soft but firm enough to keep him out of his thoughts, to keep him from spiralling.
“You still have one more game to turn it around,” you told him, trying to keep it positive.
Your voice was soothing but yet still firm, wanting him to know that you weren't just brushing it off.You could never understand what he was going through first hand you know and you know he knew that.
His head tilted back again into his cubby, his eyes fully locked on the ceiling.
“But what if we lose the next one...? What if we lose the next one and it's all over?”
He looked back to you, his gaze more vulnerable. His usual confident and goofy demeanor was turned into fear and doubt in himself.
“You can't think like that right now. You still got one more game. Focus everything you can on that one game,” you paused to make sure that he understood what you said, “because I want you to know no matter what, Juraj, I am behind you, win or lose.”
He looked at you softly for a moment, but the tension in his body was still there. The way his muscles and his shoulders looked was a dead giveaway of the tension that he was holding.
“I still don't want to feel like I let you down. I don't want to feel like I let the team down,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.
You smiled at him sadly and gave his hands another gentle squeeze.
“You can never let me down. All I want for you is to go out there and leave everything on that ice, win or lose.”
Your smile brightened when you saw his shoulders shake, and he laughed slightly.
“What?” you asked.
“Nothing, it was just what my mom always said,” he smiled, shaking his head.
“Well, your mother's a smart woman,” you laughed lightly with him.
You both paused for a couple of seconds. You squeezed his hands before you stood up.
“I'll wait for you down the hallway, okay?”
“Yeah, I'll be out soon,” he responded.
You leaned down and placed a soft kiss on his forehead, and gave him a smile.
Could you write, bringing up divorce under the angst prompts with Mat????
PromptList
MasterList
AN-I feel like I'm so bad at wrapping up fics, I generally struggle to wrap it up at the end
Matt
“If you're really gonna say that, then maybe we should just get a divorce.”
The words slipped out before you could even process them, hanging heavy in the air between you. The bedroom went completely, suffocatingly silent.
Matt's face, which had been twisted with frustration, froze. His brows furrowed in shock, and his mouth opened, then closed, trying to find the words that would make this all go away.
“A divorce? Is that... seriously what you want?” he finally managed, his voice low and rough.
“No, no, no, I—” you stammered, reaching for him instinctively, but he took a small step back. Panic filled your chest.
Your heart pounded so hard it felt like it might burst out of your chest at this point. Divorce. You'd thrown the word out like it was nothing when it could end everything.
“I don't—I don't know why I said that. I'm sorry, Matt. I didn’t mean it,” you said shakily, running both hands through your hair.
A heavy silence stretched between you. You could see his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, like he was physically trying to ground himself.
Matt finally sat down on the edge of the bed, his head dropping into his hands with a shaky sigh
“I just... I don't get how we got here,” he said quietly, voice cracking. “I hate fighting with you, I just-” He took a deep breath. “I hate this thing we have between us, this constant fighting.” He told you to gesture between you.
Your chest ached hearing his weak voice. You knelt down in front of him, placing both your hands on your knees.
“I know Matt, I know” you whispered. “I shouldn't have said that, I need you to know I didnt even it”
Matt lifted his head, his eyes glassy with tears with threatening to fall at any given word. He reached out and threaded his fingers through yours; you could still feel the slight shake in his hands.
"I'm sorry too," he said, voice hoarse. "I love you more than anything. I don't care about whatever we were fighting about. I just-” He took a second to breath “I just don't want to lose you over something so stupid”
Tears blurred your vision as you wrapped your arms around him, holding him tightly. Neither of you spoke for a while, just clinging to each other, thinking about how you were going to fix whatever rough patch your marriage was in.
“We’re gonna get through this, right?” He asked
“Yeah, we’re gonna get through this.”
Jamie
"Jamie?” You asked quietly as you stood in the doorway of your shared bedroom
He hummed in response not looking up
“Do you-?” you took a shaking breath looking up at the ceiling trying to keep your tears away “Do you want a divorce?”
Jamie’s head snapped up from where he had been sitting at the edge of the bed, pulling off his hoodie after yet another late night practice. His face twisted in shock at the thought of you thinking that.
"What?" he breathed out. "No—no, Y/n Why would you even think that?”"
“Because Every game, every practice, every meeting….. it's always something more important. I'm tired, Jamie so tired” You told the tears breaking through your waterline “I'm tired of coming second."
He stood up fast to close the space between you. His eyes were wide with desperation. "You’re not second," he said quickly. "You’re not-God, Y/n, you’re everything to me."
"It doesn’t feel like it," you whispered. "It feels like I’m just... here. Like I'm just the thing you come back to when everything else is done."
Jamie’s hands shook as he ran them through his hair, his whole body tight with panic. "No. No, that's not true. I swear to you that is not true."
"I didn’t know you felt like that," he whispered, voice cracking. "I swear, I didn’t know." His eyes searched every inch of your face frantically trying to pick out small details.
You wiped angrily at a tear sliding down your cheek. "Because you’re always gone, Jamie. Or exhausted. Or thinking about the next game"
Jamie pulled you into his chest not wanting to hear the things that you believed because to him they weren't true, you were never second to him. His chin rested atop your head as he took a deep breath "I'm so sorry," he whispered, tears filling his own eyes now. "Please, Y/n, please tell me what to do. Tell me how to fix this. I'll do anything."
You looked up at him, your bottom lip trap under your teeth “I just want you to be back in marriage, physically. I don't want to have to ask for your attention”
"I will," Jamie whispered. "I swear I'll be here. No more making you feel second. God im so sorry baby–fuck,I didnt know”
He took a deep breath, “I love you so much,h” He told you as he kissed the top of your head
Quinn
"If you want a divorce, Quinn, just say it and I'll give it to you!" you shouted, your filled with frustration
Quinn’s head snapped toward you, his eyes filled with the same frustration in your voice
"Are you serious right now?" he fired back, his voice sharp. "You think that's what I want? You think I’m just waiting for a way out of this?"
Your arms were crossed tightly over your chest, trying to keep yourself from breaking apart right there, but you knew you had to hold your ground even though you were just so tired.
"What else am I supposed to think, Quinn?!" you snapped. "You don't talk to me, you barely even look at me anymore! I feel like I'm fighting for this marriage by myself because last time I checked I got married to You! But where are you Quinn!" Your tone was laced with sarcasm towards the end of your sentence
He dragged a hand roughly through his hair, pacing a few steps before turning back to you, chest heaving with anger and the disbelief that you even brought up the idea of a divorce.
"I'm sorry Y/n I'm so sorry ok!” he shot back. "You know how stressed and tired I am when I come home, after being picked apart all day by the coaches, the fans and the fucking media. I come home with nothing left in me but don’t you dare act like I ever stopped loving you."
Neither of you spoke for a moment, just breathing heavily, staring at each other. Both wondering if this marriage was going to crumble on a random Tuesday night.
Your vision blurred with tears you didn’t want to fall. "Then why don't you talk to me about this, i'm over here thinking that you don't even love me anymore Quinn"
He stared at you, the anger in his face changing in the guilt he was feeling, the guilt he's been feeling for a long time, just knowing this argument was bound to happen.
"Because you're already stressed with classes and work you got your own shit to deal with," he said finally, voice breaking. “I don't want to be the person that add to that"
You blinked, stunned. That wasn’t what you expected to hear, not from Quinn, the most steady man you've ever met. He felt like he couldn't come to you with this stuff?
"So you just shut me out?" you whispered
He only nodded
“Don't do that don't shut me out right now Quinn” You told him “We are married for fucks sakes and you think you cant come to me with your problems?”
You shook your head and walked across the kitchen to look him in the eyes. “I don't care if what you have to tell me is a complaint or you're just talking about your day. You Have to tell me these things, if you want this marriage to work.”
"I’m sorry," he whispered, voice rough. "I’m so goddamn sorry."
You shook your head, grabbing the front of his hoodie, to pull him into a hug. His body seemed to relax for the first time since you both had been arguing.
His arms wrapped around you tightly, as if he let go you would disappear
"I don't want to lose you over me being stupid," he mumbled into your hair. His voice cracking slightly
"You’re not going to," you whispered back. "But you have to let me in, Quinn."
hello! i just read one of your fics from this time two years ago and i just wanna say you have improved so so so much. like two completely different writers, and i love your ideas and your writing so much and i just thought it was cool how much you have developed!! ❤️❤️
Oh my god, you're the sweetest! That means a lot because I have severe dyslexia, so writing is really hard, but I love to write!!!
I also finished my year at uni, so I'm gonna try my best to post more!!
whiny needy sub mack eating u out to wake u up ???? him praising reader A LOTTTTT
nsfw content below
you wake up to the softest thing—hot breath dragged slow over the crease of your thigh, lips pressing close like they’re apologizing, but they’re not. your sheets are bunched under your back, the faint cling of sweat at the base of your neck, and your legs are open. not wide. not desperate. just enough to make space for him. for macklin.
his hair’s a mess, soft brown curls squished flat on one side from your pillow, and his face is buried between your legs like it’s the first place he thought to go the second he woke up. maybe it was. maybe he didn’t even think. just rolled over, pulled the blanket back, pressed a kiss to your hip like he couldn’t help himself, like his mouth remembered you before the rest of him caught up.
his tongue is slow right now, lazy little flicks that barely trace your slit, not even pushing in, just playing with the edge of you. he’s making these fucked-up little noises, soft and needy and starving, like he’s been dying to taste you again since the last time. like he dreamed about it. and it’s messy. he’s not careful. he noses in too deep, licks too hard, sucks your clit like he wants it swollen, raw, spit-slicked and twitching, then backs off just to whine into your cunt like he misses it already. like he can’t fucking stand not having his mouth on you.
your hips shift. not from choice. your muscles twitch like you’ve been hit with a jolt of electricity, thighs tensing around his head, and he moans. full-on fucking moans like you’re the one doing something to him, and that’s what finally pulls you fully awake.
your voice comes out thick, cracked from sleep. “what’re you doing…”
he lifts his face for maybe half a second, chin shiny, lips already swollen. “wanna taste you. missed you. fuck. lay back. don’t talk.”
his voice is barely there. raw. wrecked. he sounds so needy you almost laugh, but you can’t, because he’s dragging his tongue down again before you can breathe. slow slide from your clit to your hole, flat and wet and greedy. not skilled. not practiced. just desperate. it’s so clear in the way his hands grab your thighs, his fingers digging in like he’s scared you’ll move, that you’ll wake up and change your mind and he’ll have to stop.
but you don’t. you just let your head fall back, eyes fluttering shut, and you feel him groan when your hips buck. he fucking feels it and goes crazy. sucks harder. tongue flicks faster. his whole body is trembling between your legs like it’s hurting him how much he wants it.
you peek down, and he looks destroyed. eyes half-lidded and glassy, cheeks redder than ever, that blotchy kind of flush crawling all the way down his neck. he’s rutting against the mattress. fully grinding, and not subtle about it. his pajama pants are hanging off his hips, cock hard and leaking against the fabric, leaving a wet spot that grows every time he ruts forward. he’s humping the fucking bed while he eats your cunt, and it’s so obvious he’s been thinking about this. like, all night. maybe since yesterday. maybe every second he’s been hard and you weren’t on top of him.
you thread your fingers through his hair, give a little tug, and he shudders. full-body jolt. his tongue stutters and he groans into your clit, keeps his mouth right there, lips open, tongue flicking, sloppy and twitchy and fucking hungry. he’s not trying to get you off quick—he wants to stay there. he wants to drown in it. and he wants you to feel it, every single squirm of his tongue, every kiss to your slit, every time he rubs his nose against your clit just to feel you twitch.
you whisper his name. that’s it. just “macklin.”
he whimpers.
whimpers.
like your voice is enough to make his balls tighten. like it’s too much. he’s barely keeping it together. he’s drooling, literally, spit sliding down his chin, mixing with your slick, making this obscene fucking mess between your thighs, and he doesn’t care. he’s not thinking about anything except more. he’s grinding into the bed harder now, and you swear he might come like that. untouched. just from tasting you.
he finally pulls back again, panting, mouth glossy, lips shaking.
“please,” he begs, voice cracked open. “please let me keep going. i need it. fuck, i need it.”
his hands slide up, one hooking under your knee, pulling it higher, spreading you wider, and he dives back in without waiting. tongue in your hole now, fucking you with it, sloppy and raw and no rhythm, just messy pushes, desperate licks, his nose catching your clit on every stroke.
you can’t even keep quiet. you’re moaning now, your back arching, hands gripping the sheets. he starts humping faster. faster. you hear it. hear the wet sound of his cock grinding into the fabric, and he doesn’t stop licking. his hips jerk like he’s right there, about to blow in his pants like a fucking teenager, and he still won’t stop eating you.
you say his name again, and he cries out, right into your cunt, tongue spasming, and you feel him shake. his whole body. shaking. hips locked, cock throbbing against the mattress, and he just stays there. mouth buried between your legs, still licking, still sucking, still fucking trying to make you come even though he just did.
you push his head down. “don’t stop,” you breathe. “keep going. be a good boy.”
he moans. full-body tremor. tongue presses deep. he starts grinding again. he’s already hard again. you can feel it.
Things that have happened to me or my friends in Uni but with the NHL guys
MasterList
PromptList
Quinn, Tevor, Jamie
I'll prob write another one like this
Quinn - Midnight Study Sessions
“Ughhhh, I’m never gonna get these,” you groaned, your face buried in your hands.
You and Quinn had been studying for an hour in the campus library for your midterm tomorrow morning. You were struggling in your psych class, and luckily, your boyfriend Quinn had taken the same class just last semester with the same prof.
“Yes, you will. You just need to think a little harder,” he encouraged, shuffling the Q-cards.
“If I think any harder, I think my brain will explode, Quinn,” you deadpanned, glaring at him as you put your hands down.
“Come on, Y/N, you need to learn this,” he said, ignoring your dramatics. “Let’s go again.”
Before he could even say the first question, you groaned again, flopping onto the table like you had just been given a life sentence to study forever, Quinn just looked at you and rolled his eyes.
“I told you my way of studying would be way more effective,” you huffed.
“Your way of studying would have led to sex,” he scoffed, shaking his head with a small smile.
“Which would have helped me,” you shot back, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world.
Your way of studying was that for every question you got right, Quinn had to take off a piece of clothing and the same for you if you got one right. You had seen it in a movie once and had always wanted to try it, but Quinn being Quinn, he always put studying above everything else. Normally, you loved that about him. Right now? You hated it.
“Okay, first question. What are central traits?” he asked, looking up from the Q-card, his eyes meeting yours.
“You can’t expect me to answer a question while looking at me like that!” you whined, tilting your head back dramatically.
“Y/N, answer the question,” he said, smiling, trying to hold in a laugh.
“Fine. Central traits are key characteristics that influence overall impression,” you mimicked in a mocking tone.
Quinn shook his head as he put the Q-card in the correct pile. “See? You do know this. You just gotta think.”
"Uh-huh. You know what I’m thinking, right?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.
Quinn just looked up at you across the table with the blankest stare, like he was so done with your shit. “What?”
“Since I got that question right, your hoodie should be off,” you said, crossing your arms and looking away like you weren’t completely scheming.
“Well, you’ll hate to hear that I have a T-shirt on under this, then,” he smirked, tugging at the hem of his hoodie.
“Jackass.”
Trevor- some girl won't let you into HIS house party
“Yeah, okay, like you’re actually dating Trevor Zegras.”
The blonde standing in the doorway rolled her eyes so hard you were surprised they didn’t get stuck in the back of her head.... you wish they did.
(YES, some chick actually did this to me because our uni’s men's volleyball team had a winning party, and my boyfriend’s on the team, and she wouldn't let me in!)
You clenched your jaw, barely resisting the urge to launch this girl off the porch. “Just go get him.” you tried to tell her, knowing if she did there wouldn't be a problem, but it was clear this girl was having a lot of fun watching you scrambled.
“Why don’t you call him then, honey?” she cooed, her fake sympathy so thick you could choke on it.
You were already trying, but Trevor being the drunk menace you knew and somehow loved wasn’t answering. He never answered the door at his parties because Jamie or one of his teammates always let you in. But for some godforsaken reason, this chick was guarding the door like a damn nightclub bouncer on a power trip.
You fired off a couple of texts, explaining the situation to your boyfriend.
“Maybe go find a different party,” she sneered. “Nice try, though.”
Your fingers twitched. You were this close to yanking out those ratty, probably from Amazon extensions when—
“BABYYYYY!!”
Trevor’s loud, boyish yell echoed from inside, and before the door could fully shut in your face, it was swung open so hard it nearly hit the wall.
And there he was.
Trevor loomed in the doorway, goofiest smile slapped across his face, cheeks flushed, eyes slightly glassy. Oh, he’s wasted.
Before you could even say anything, the blonde fake gasped and latched onto his arm.
“This chick has been pretending to be your girlfriend to get into the party!” she said, laughing, pressing herself into him like that wouldn’t backfire spectacularly.
Trevor physically jerked away from her, his whole face twisting into the most dramatic yuck expression you’d ever seen. He even stuck out his tongue for extra effect.
“That is my girlfriend,” he deadpanned, pointing directly at you. He turned to you and beamed. “That’s my fucking girlfriend!!!”
Then he threw his head back and threw his arms out, hoping you could read his mind and come over to him.
You bit back a laugh as he stumbled toward you, immediately throwing his arm around you and pulling you inside. “Your drinks are in my room,” he mumbled.
As the two of you stepped into the entrance, it squeezed Miss Gatekeeper against the doorframe, and Trevor turned, waved, and said with a sickeningly sweet smile:
“Bye bye"
"but-" "Nope bye bye"
He kept eye contact with her as he slowly shut the door in her face.
Jamie- Actually running into each other in the hallway (this is how I met my bf)
You had your head down as you walked through the hallway, your eyes locked on the stack of Q-cards in your hands as you mumbled the words you were reading. You turned the corner, expecting to walk straight into your classroom, except you walked into something else instead.
Your shoulder collided with someone, and before you could react, your thick stack of Q-cards went flying, scattering all over the floor at your feet.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” a voice said, and the person you had just run into knelt down with you to pick up the fallen cards.
You looked up, reaching for a few, and suddenly, your brain short-circuited. Because right in front of you was the guy you had been non-stop talking about to your friends for weeks.
“No, no, it’s okay,” you said quickly, giving him a sheepish smile. “I should’ve been watching where I was going.”
You both stood up, and he handed you the cards he had picked up. That’s when it hit you, this was the perfect chance to finally talk to him.
“Hey, you’re in my psych class, right?” you asked, playing it cool, as if you didn’t already know the answer.
“Yeah, yeah, I am,” he said, nodding. “I’m Jamie, by the way.” He smiled, introducing himself but of course, you already knew that. You'd never admit it, but you and your friends did lots of internet stalking after you saw him that first day in class.
“I’m Y/N,” you replied, smiling back. “So, how’d you think you did on the midterm?”
You still couldn’t believe you were standing here, actually talking to the guy you’d been obsessing over since the first day of the semester, you wished one of your friends were in the same hallways so they could see it.
Jamie tilted his head a little, thinking, before shrugging. “I think I did okay. Definitely could’ve done better, but whatever.” He glanced at you. “How about you?”
“I think I did pretty good,” you admitted. “But I noticed there were so many mistakes on the exam.”
“I know, right!?” Jamie laughed, making you instantly match his smile. “So many questions had the same answer choices! Like, answer A was the exact same as answer B. What happens if I pick B, but it’s actually A, but they’re literally the same?”
“Exactly!” you grinned. “I just circled both to cover my bases.”
You were surprised by how easy it was to talk to him, considering this was the first time you had ever actually spoken.
The conversation flowed so naturally that neither of you noticed how much time had passed until you glanced at the time and realized you were now ten minutes late to class. shit you thought.
You groaned internally because you didn’t want to end the conversation, but you knew you had to since the class you were late to had the more strict professor known to man.
“Anyway, I really gotta head to class,” you said reluctantly. “But it was really nice meeting you, Jamie.”
“You too,” he said, smiling. “I’ll see you in class.”
You gave him a quick wave before heading off, but the whole walk to your class, you couldn’t stop replaying the conversation in your head.
A couple of hours later, after your class finally ended, you pulled out your phone to check your notifications. And when you opened Instagram, you saw a new follow request.
From the one and only Jamie Drysdale.
You knew for a fact he had to go through the class registry to find you.
“Oh my god,” Mat laughed, kneeling down to check if you were okay.
He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks. You had a hurt pout on your lips, but the rest of your face just looked... confused?.
“What the fuck was that for?” You glared at him as he brushed some of the hair out of your face.
“I know, I know,” he chuckled, trying (and failing) to hold back his amusement. “I was trying to slap your ass I didn’t think you’d fall before I even did it.”
“Stop laughing, Mat, you smacked me,” you whined, shoving him away with half-hearted effort. Truthfully, it didn’t even hurt that much, it was just the shock of it.
Mat pulled you into his chest, still trying to suppress his laughter. “I didn’t slap you!” he argued, though you could hear the grin in his voice. “It was an accident! Totally different! I was gonna slap your ass!”
“Whatever,” you mumbled into his hoodie.
“Let me see it,” he said, pulling back slightly.
You lifted your face to look up at him, and his smile instantly dropped. Your cheek was a little red, and your lip looked like it was stuck in a permanent pout.
“Fuck, Y/N, I’m so sorry. I swear I didn’t mean to,” he said, his voice much softer now, looking you right in the eyes.
“You did mean to hit me, you literally said so!”
“Your ass! Your ass! I meant to slap your ass, not your beautiful face!”
“You’re an ass, Mat.”
Nico
He immediately knelt down in front of you, his face painted with worry as he looked over your face. His heart broke when he saw the welt already forming on your cheek, and the tears welling up in your eyes only made it worse.
“Shit, baby, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to,” he said, his voice full of regret.
You knew Nico would never hurt you on purpose, but you were so confused about what had just happened. You blinked a few times, trying to force the tears away, but they slipped down your cheeks anyway. The second he saw them, he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly.
One hand rubbed soothing circles on your back, the other cradling the back of your head as his thumb stroked through your hair. “I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he whispered. “I was trying to slap your ass" he shook his head at himself, letting out a soft, breathy laugh, “then you fell mid-swing, I don’t even know how, but -fuck, I’m sorry.”
You pulled your face out of his chest, sniffling as you looked up at him. Your cheek throbbed, and from the way Nico’s expression twisted with guilt, you knew it must’ve looked bad. His brows furrowed, his jaw clenched, and he sighed heavily as his fingers gently ghosted over the mark on your skin.
“People are gonna think you hit me,” you laughed quietly, wiping at your face, trying to lighten the situation because you knew Nico was going to kick himself over this for weeks.
He gave a short, disbelieving shake of his head. “Yeah, you’re not coming to tomorrow’s game,” he declared. “Seriously, Y/N, I’m so sorry. I swear I didn’t mean to. I’d never, ever-”
“I know, Nico,” you cut him off softly, placing a hand on his chest to reassure him.
But every time he caught sight of the fading handprint on your face that week, his stomach twisted with guilt. He did anything you asked, making sure there was never a second where you forgot how sorry he was.
Arber
The second his hand made contact, you both froze.
Eyes wide, mouths slightly open, neither of you knew how to react. Shock? Confusion? Was it funny? Arber hadn’t even hit you that hard, just enough to make a decent slap sound.
You blinked at each other for a long second before he finally spoke.
“Your ass,” he stuttered, his voice almost panicked.
“What?” you asked, already half laughing at the situation.
“Your ass I meant to slap your ass, I swear,” he rushed to clarify, his eyes still blown wide like he couldn’t believe what just happened.
You started to get up, and Arber was immediately there to help, his big hands steadying you. The moment you were standing, his eyes darted across your face, scanning for any sign of a welt or a red mark. Your cheek was slightly flushed from the impact, but it was nothing serious, but there was still a mark.
“Ice?” he asked shortly, his voice tight.
You knew Arber got short with his words when he felt bad about something. It was his way of dealing with guilt, shutting down a little, trying to fix things fast.
You shook your head. “I’m okay.”
“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, shaking his head, like he needed you to really believe it. “I swear I didn’t mean to. I know I’m like that on the ice, but never—never—would I bring that shit home to you.” His voice was firm, his brows drawn together like he was already beating himself up over it.
“I know, I know,” you reassured him. “It just shocked me, that’s all.”
His shoulders slumped in relief, and before you could say anything else, he pulled you into a tight hug, wrapping his arms around you like he needed to physically hold onto you to make up for it. He pressed a lingering kiss to the top of your head, mumbling soft, repeated sorrys against your hair.
Jamie
It was like Jamie's world around him froze, his eyes were wide and his body still frozen, and he swore his heart actually broke when you looked up at him holding your now red cheek. Then suddenly, he was quick on his feet, and in a flash, he knelt down in front of you, pulling you into him as he rambled out apologies.
“Oh my god, I'm so sorry, holy shit, Y/N, I didn't mean to,” he rambled. “I was gonna slap your ass, then you fell, and I missed, and I don't even know how that happened. Are you okay? You're okay, right?”
You couldn't even get a word in from all his ramblings. Your cheek was just hot from the impact, not hurting too bad. For you, it all just happened so fast. You were just kneeling down to grab something, then you felt your boyfriend’s hand collide with your face. You looked up at him, and Jamie's face was painted with worry and guilt as he looked at your slightly reddened cheek.
“I'm okay, I'm okay,” you told him.
“I swear I didn't mean to!” he told you, shaking his head, scared you wouldn't believe him.
“I know, Jamie, I know you would never.”
“Do you need anything?” he asked, looking over at the kitchen for a moment. “An ice pack, water, heat pack?” He scrambled to think of things.
“No, no, I'm okay, Jams,” you reassured, shaking your head slightly, smiling at his worriedness.
For the rest of the day, like clockwork, Jamie would ask you every hour if you needed anything, clearly still feeling guilty about it.
“Y/nnnnnn!” Trevor sang into the phone, his voice loud and unmistakably drunk.
You blinked at your screen, squinting in the dark. 1:00 a.m. on a Tuesday. Makes sense
“Hi, Trevor,” you muttered, voice thick with sleep. “How drunk are you—”
“BRO WHY the fuck are we not dating?” he blurted out, completely cutting you off.
You actually laughed at his forwardness
“Don’t laugh at me!” he whined. You could practically hear the pout on his face. “This is a genuine question.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” you teased, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. “Maybe because you call me bro all the time?”
“Yeah, romantically, obviously,” he huffed, as if you should have known that. “But, we would be so good together bro”
You laughed again but shot back, “Bro, you send me random insta real dashcam footage at ungodly hours of the morning, how was I supposed to know?”
“Okay, so it's weird when you call me bro, Y/N,” he said, like that was the real issue at hand. “And I send you those because they’re funny! You gotta read between the lines.”
“What lines, Trevor?!” you asked, fully awake now, still in disbelief.
“I dunno!” he admitted, then gasped. “BUT what I do knowwwwww,” he dragged out dramatically, “is that you haven’t denied anything I said.”
You bit your lip, smiling despite yourself. “I know I haven’t.”
“Sooooo we’re dating now, basically,” he concluded.
“Wait, how did we just jump from here to that?” you asked, laughing
“You like me, me like's you so, boom, we’re dating.” He said it so simply, like it was basic math.
“Trevor-”
“Nope, nope, it’s final! We’re dating. Y/N and I are dating!” he cheered “I’m gonna hang up before you can say anything else because we’re dating now, goodnight Y/N, bye-bye.”
And just like that, he hung up.
You stared at your phone, listening to the dead dial tone.
Did you just… get drunk-declared into a relationship?
Were you complaining, though?
Quinn
“Y/N, I need to tell you something,” Quinn said into the phone, his voice slightly unsteady.
“What’s up, Quinner?” you responded, putting him on speakerphone as you flipped through your notes, you had a midterm in three days, and you had been studying for hours on end while he and his teammates were doing drinks by the sound of hughes voice.
You heard him take a deep breath, hesitating.
“Quinn, is everything okay?” you asked, shifting your full attention to the phone.
“Yup,” he hiccupped. “Just a little drunk.”
You smiled. “Well, you deserve it. You guys won big tonight, congrats.”
“Yup,” he hiccupped again, then groaned. “But that’s hiccup not what I wanna talk abo—hiccup—about.” His voice was barely above a mumble, his words slurring together.
“Speak up, Quinn. I can barely hear you,” you teased.
“Yes, ma’am,” he muttered, then groaned again. “God, I’m never drinking again.”
You chuckled softly. “Do you need me to come get you?”
“Nooo, no, I know you’re studying,” he argued. then, he blurted out, “God, Y/N, you work so hard. Like, so fucking hard.”
Your smile grew as you shrugged your shoulders. “I try.”
“Like, it’s a good thing I play hockey, cause I hated school. Uni was okay, though mostly just hockey and drinking.” He rambled, then suddenly sighed. “Fuck, anyways Y/N, I love you so much. You have no idea.”
“I wish you came out with us tonight after the game,” he continued, voice softer now. “You looked so good in my jersey, and my mom told me about the chirps you were yelling. Fuck, I wish I could’ve seen that. Would’ve been so hot.”
You laughed, he kept going.
“Just let me finish before you reject me, okay? Let’s be nice here,” he mumbled, and you could hear the small smile in his voice. “I wanna take you out so bad, Y/N. Please let me take you out.”
You bit your lip, heart swelling.
“Quinn,” you said gently, “I have to tell you something.”
“Nooooo,” he groaned. “Fuck, which asshole beat me to it?”
You laughed softly. “Quinn.”
“Mmhmm?”
“We’re already dating, sweetie. We have been for a while.”
There was silence on the other end.
Some guys might get reckless and cheat on their girlfriends when they’re drunk, but even when Quinn was blackout wasted, he was still confessing his love to you all over again. Even if he forgot he's already done that.
You heard him inhale sharply.
“Wait,” he muttered under his breath. “No way. When did I ask you?”
“About a year and a half ago,” you reminded him, grinning.
“And you said yes?”
“Yes, Quinn,” you giggled. “Without a second thought.”
Another beat of silence.
“Quinn—”
“I love you,” he interrupted softly. “Can you maybe come get me and take me home?”
You smiled as you stood up, already grabbing your keys. “Yes, Quinn. I’ll drive you home.”
A moment later, he mumbled, “Do we live together too?”
You chuckled. “We do.”
“Fuck yeah,” he whispered, like he had just won the lottery.
Cole
Your phone rang, you squinted at the screen, Cole Caulfield.
Made sense since he and the guys went out after their big win tonight. You sighed, already bracing yourself, before swiping to answer.
“Hello?”
For a solid five seconds, all you heard was chaos.
Cole yelling something, his teammates yelling back. Laughter. A very loud thunk, then More laughter.
“Cole?” you tried, sitting up and rubbing your eyes. “Do you need me to come get you?”
No response from him just more indistinct yelling in the background. You groaned, tossing your blanket off your legs and sitting on the edge of your bed.
Then, finally
“Yo, Y/N!” Cole’s voice rang out, overly excited, like a little kid. “You picked up!!”
You exhaled a laugh. “Yeah, do you need me to pick you up?”
“YES. Y/N, you should totally come out!!!” He sounded thrilled about this idea. Then, away from the phone, you heard him yell, “GUYS, Y/N’S COMING OUT!”
ok, so that's not what I said. Like at all. you thought
“Ooooo, your girlfriend’s coming!” one of them teased.
“FUCK YEAH, CAULFIELD!” another cheered. “YOU FINALLY TOLD HER?”
You froze, mid-brushing your hair. Told me what? you thought.
On the other end, Cole groaned. “Shut up,” he whined.
you couldn’t see the way he dramatically tilted his head back in frustration, hands at his sides.
“She doesn’t know.”
His teammates roared with laughter, one of them slapping him on the back.
“Ohhh, buddy,” someone chirped. “That’s tough.”
You bit your lip to keep from laughing as you slipped on your shoes. This was gold.
Then, Cole’s voice came back, a little more serious.
“I gotta send her the address.”
What followed was a solid ten seconds of complete silence, except for his teammates snickering as Cole, very drunkenly, squinted at his phone, trying to focus on the screen.
“Holy fuck, look at this kid,” someone chirped, clearly watching him struggle.
“Shut up,” Cole muttered, still glaring at his phone like it had personally wronged him in a way.
Then, suddenly, horrifying realization.
Your name.
At the top of the screen.
Call in progress: 5 minutes, 12 seconds.
His eyes widened and His stomach dropped.
“…Y/N?” he asked, voice hesitant.
“Yes, Cole?” you answered sweetly, already backing out of your driveway.
“You’re… still on the here?” He asked practically wincing
“Yes, Cole.” You grinned. "I'm still here"
From the background, Slaf burst out laughing. “NO FUCKING WAY, SHE HEARD ALL THAT?!”
Cole just nodded numbly, still staring at his phone.
You, meanwhile, were having the time of your life.
“Made my night, honestly,” you teased. "Just wait till I tell you my thoughts, I know you'll like them"
The line went quiet for a second.
Then, Cole clearly regaining some confidence piped up.
“So you are coming out?” he asked hopefully.
You chuckled. “Only because I like you so much.”
On the other end, Cole silently fist-pumped the air, mouthing a victorious “YES”
but really you where taking his drunk ass home
Luke
Luke was drunk. Like, very drunk to drunk.
Jack had been feeding him shots all night, and now he was slumped over the bar table, long limbs sprawled out and completely invading his brother’s space, well, at the same time he called you on his phone.
You answered as soon as he finally managed to hit the call button.
“Hey, Lu.”
Luke groaned dramatically, head still against the table. “What are you doing?”
Jack, trying to enjoy his plate of nachos, shoved at Luke’s arm. “Dude, move. I’m trying to eat.”
Luke barely lifted his head, slurring, “Suck my dick, dude.”
Jack didn’t even hesitate. “That’s Y/N’s job, not mine.”
Luke shot upright so fast he nearly knocked his phone out of his own hand. His grip tightened around it like his life depended on it.
“SHHHHHH she’s on the phone, dude!!!” he whispered-yelled, completely panicked. “If she hears that, I’ll never get to make a move, then she'll never become my girlfriend so keep your mouth shut!"
Jack, deadpan, just stared at him.
Then, very slowly, his gaze shifted to something beside Luke.
Luke blinked, confused, before turning his head
And there you were. Standing right there.
Luke froze. His mouth fell slightly open, eyes wide, like a deer caught in headlights.
You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Did he forget I was here?” you asked Jack.
Jack nodded immediately.
You grinned. “God, how many drinks did you give him?” you asked as you sat beside Luke
Jack smirked as he stood up. “I’m gonna go get this kid some food.” He slapped the table before walking off.
“Can you get me some nachos too?” you called after him.
Jack gave you a quick nod.
And then you turned your attention back to the Luke Hughes, who was suddenly the quietest person in the world.
You nudged his arm, smiling. “Why so quiet, huh? What were you and Jack talking about?” You wiggled your eyebrows playfully.
Luke shook his head, still staring at the table, muttering, “Dunno.”
You smirked. Bingo.
“Really?” you teased, leaning in a little closer. “Because I heard some great news…” You tilted your head. “Something about me having a chance to be a girlfriend?”
Luke immediately gave you side-eye, his drunk brain scrambling to process whether this was a setup or not.
“…Did I hear that right?” you pressed, grinning.
Luke squinted at you, trying so hard to read your expression but he was too drunk to even read the menu right now.
“Depends on your answer,” he finally said, still side eyeing you.
Your heart skipped a little, but you played it cool.
You glanced over at the bar, Jack was on his way back, somehow balancing three plates of nachos. Impressive, considering he couldn't even remember Luke’s jersey number half the time when he was drinking.
You turned back to Luke quickly, wanting to have his moment to yourself even if he was drunk off his ass and before your drinks kick in witch you could feel creeping up on you.
“I think you’re gonna like my answer, Luke.” You winked, giving his thigh a light pat.
Luke froze again.
His brain is going a mile a minute, and the alcohol not helping with that
Meanwhile, Jack plopped the nachos onto the counter, making a loud clattering noise as he did.
You grabbed your plate, then grabbed Luke’s and slid it in front of him, expecting him to immediately dig as he normally did. But he didn’t move.
You glanced over and that’s when you saw it.
The biggest, dopiest, cheesiest grin slapped across his face.
he couldn’t believe what you just said, or more hinted at.
You bit back a smile and shook your head, turning your focus back to your nachos.
But Luke? He just kept staring at you for a little longer, grinning like an idiot, before finally shaking his head, chuckling to himself, and happily digging into his nachos.
Yeah. He definitely liked your answer even though you only hinted at it
You and Luke had been arguing for the past 20 minutes in the living room of his apartment. Jack was somewhere hiding, not wanting to get involved or make things worse between his brother and you.
The argument was draining you more than you realized. What most people didn’t know about the young, up-and-coming star defenseman for the Devils was that he was an overthinker and, at times, incredibly insecure. Tonight, the team had decided to go out to a bar after the game, with some of the guys bringing their girlfriends along. You had agreed to join Luke, hoping to spend time together.
You knew Luke was a social guy when it came to his teammates, and especially when he started drinking, he could go up to anyone and make a friend. It was honestly one of your favorite things about him. But tonight? Tonight, he barely spent any time with you. You ended up sitting in a corner booth with Nico and a couple of other teammates. There were times you couldn’t even spot Luke in the bar because it was so packed. You talked to Nico for most of the night, laughing and hearing embarrassing stories about Luke from before you moved to New Jersey.
You thought you were just having fun, getting to know your boyfriend’s teammates. What you didn’t know was how pissed off Luke was going to be when you both got home.
“How do you think I feel, looking at my girlfriend flirting it up with my captain?” he snapped at you.
You both had gotten home about an hour ago. Most of the alcohol had left Luke’s system, but he was still tipsy, which meant he had no filter.
“I wasn’t flirting, Luke!” you shot back, your patience wearing thin. “You left me alone all night. I don’t know anyone on your team except for you, Jack, and now Nico! So excuse me for trying to talk to someone.”
Luke groaned, running his hand down his face in frustration. “Come on, Y/N. If you really wanted to find me, you would’ve come and gotten me at the bar. But newsflash—you didn’t. You stayed there with Nico.”
You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. “Do you really think I would flirt with your captain in front of your whole damn team, Luke?”
“How can I not think that? It sure as hell looked like it,” he yelled, throwing his hands up in the air.
His face was flushed from the alcohol, and his hair was messy from running his hands through it.
“But that’s not what happened,” you said, your voice trembling with frustration. “Nico and I were talking about you! He was telling me about all the embarrassing stuff you did before I moved here.” You threw your hands up, mimicking his earlier gesture. “And God forbid I learned about his family and what it’s like in Switzerland.”
There was a long, heavy silence between you two after that. You knew that Nico would never do something like that to Luke, and Luke knew it too. But the thought of you talking to the hotshot captain of the New Jersey Devils made him feel insecure, and he couldn’t handle it.
Finally, Luke met your gaze. The scowl on your face was clear, and he knew he had crossed a line. He opened his mouth to apologize, but you cut him off before he could say anything.
“Honestly, Luke, fuck you for thinking I would cheat on you like that. I’ve given you no reason to think that,” you snapped. “Do you think I get pissed when we go to bars after you guys win a game, and all these puck bunnies are all over you? Yeah, of course, I get fucking jealous. But I trust you. Why can’t you trust me?”
Luke opened his mouth but remained silent. You took that as him shutting you out. His stubbornness stung more than the words he had just said.
“You know what? Never mind. I’m going to bed,” you muttered, shaking your head and turning to walk down the hallway to your shared bedroom.
“Wait, no, stop.” You heard Luke call after you. Sighing out of annoyance, you felt your body freeze.
“What, Luke?” you asked bluntly.
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” His voice was quieter now, filled with regret. You raised an eyebrow, surprised by his words. Slowly, you turned around to look at him.
“You’ve given me no reason to think you’d cheat on me. No reason at all. And I’m ashamed that I thought that. And I know it’s no excuse, but look at you, Y/N…” He groaned, his voice breaking slightly. “Fucking look at you, and look at me. In my mind, it makes no sense. I just always think you could do better. I have no idea what I’m doing in life. All I know is hockey. You’re in university, supporting yourself, having a job, and you actually know where you’re going. I have no fucking clue,” he admitted, his voice raw.
You were genuinely shocked. Did Luke really think you were too good for him? Was that what this was about?
“Luke, I think the exact opposite. I think you're way too good for me,” you said softly, wanting him to understand your feelings. “But I still don’t treat you like that.”
“I know, I know,” he murmured, his head hung low in guilt. “And it’s no excuse. I was drinking, and I let my emotions get the best of me. I’m kicking myself for it right now.”
When you first started dating Luke, you were surprised by how he handled arguments—he always owned up to his mistakes. He never let things fester, always wanting to sit down and talk things out. He was nothing like your exes, and that was because you were too important to him to let something stupid end your relationship.
There was a brief silence, but you both felt the anger fading. It was Luke who spoke first.
“I’ll let you be alone tonight. I get it. I’ll sleep on the couch or crash with Jack if he’ll let me,” he said, shaking his head in frustration at himself.
You sighed deeply still hurt and Luke could see that on your face “No, Luke. You’re not sleeping on the couch. This is too stupid for you to be sleeping on the couch. Just come to bed.”
You smiled at him, and he was clearly taken aback by your words. You waved him over, signaling him to come to bed.
He immediately walked over, pulling you into a tight hug and kissing your forehead.
“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. He squeezed you tightly before letting go, allowing you to lead him to your bedroom.
