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puck-luck · 4 days

Note

Forever yearning for a jealous, dominant Luke Hughes. I mean spitting in your mouth, edging, mirror sex, etc. I need the filthy, down bad luke.

Scenario: maybe you’re becoming close with one of the other players (completely innocent-just forming a friendship) but Luke doesn’t see it as that way…

👉🏻👈🏻

warnings (in no particular order): spit(!!), jealousy, dom!luke, edging, mirror sex, one (1!) slap to the face just for the enjoyment of my friend jo, spanking, drinking (technically underage hiii luke turn 21 already stop being lame), beating yourself up, pet names and nicknames as FUCK (always bro do y’all even know me), road head, face fucking, unprotected p in v, dare i say breeding kink, implied subspace, allusion to size kink (probably established size kink to be fair), I THINK THAT’S IT BUT I’M NOT SURE! pairing: luke hughes x fem!reader summary: the one when luke gets jealous at the bar and doles out a bit of a punishment (code: luke is insecure about his performance on the ice, so when his gf starts talking with another teammate who is her friend, he gets jealous and feels like he has to prove himself by making her feel good, but he’s still a dom bc HOTTTT) wc: 6416

The Devils’ last game of the season was at home this year. There was no chance that they would make the playoffs and Jack was out in Colorado for his shoulder surgery, plus Luke’s parents weren’t able to make it from Michigan for his final rookie game. He was depending on you to be there, so there you were. You were cheering, you were yelling at the officials when they missed a call, you were laughing at Luke when he took a trademarked Hughes spill on the ice with barely anyone around him. Yeah, you were disappointed at the end of the game when the Islanders won (and it wasn’t even close), but it was just one game. It wasn’t the end of the world. It was a disappointment, but it wasn’t life-changing.

Luke, however, was much more upset with their performance when you met up with him after the game. He drove the two of you to the bar where the team was meeting for one last celebration before the off-season and he tried, he really did, to keep his complaints inside. He was stewing, just letting it well up inside of him and fester in the silence between you, until it spilled over.

“It should have been a better game,” Luke finally said, the harsh edge in his tone rubbing you in all the wrong ways. “We could’ve done more. If I had just–”

“Lu, baby,” you interrupted, voice soft. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I was out there the longest, other than Jake,” Luke argued. “They depend on me and I let them down.”

“You were only on the ice for one goal, Lu. You couldn’t have done anything about at least the other three.”

Your statement was not something he wanted to hear. Your boyfriend, sweet as he was, always saw the best in everyone else and the worst in himself. Where he could have been blaming Brendan for the loss, since Brendan was on the ice for three of the four goals, he was instead blaming himself. He was never one to hold a grudge against his teammates or his friends or his family, which was part of the reason why you were so in love with him.

He grunted instead of giving you a real response, but you knew it was coming from a place of knowing you’re right but still feeling hurt.

“I love you,” you told him, just a reminder that his performance would never affect your affection towards him.

“I love you too,” Luke replied, and you two fell back into silence. It was less tense this time, but his shoulders were still tense and he was frowning, almost pouting. He was so pretty, even now, but you hated how this expression marred his face.

When you pulled up to the bar, you were met by Luke’s teammates. While some of the men had gone home after the game, it was mostly the ones who had families. You knew their wives and girlfriends would have encouraged them to go out with the team rather than stay home with the kids, but you understood. If Luke had wanted to go straight home after the game, you would’ve gone with him and cuddled him until you fell asleep.

“Do you want to get out and get me a drink, baby, while I find parking?” Luke asked, always so considerate.

“Yeah,” you agreed easily, leaning over the center console to peck his lips before you left the car.

Waiting outside the entrance of the bar, Nico and John smiled as you got out of the car and walked over to them. You hugged each of them before entering the bar, Nico walking in ahead of you and John following you with a hand on your back.

It didn’t mean anything to you or to John, but when Luke watched John guide you into the bar before he drove away to search for a parking spot, something sharp and green poked at his heart.

Luke finally made his way into the bar about ten minutes after you walked in, and your face had lit up when you saw him like it had been much longer. He didn’t see you at first, so you had the chance to watch him scan the room. His brow was furrowed as he scanned each person’s features. You knew that he was trying to spot you without looking for the other boys at first, but it was proving difficult with how crowded the room had become.

Timo appeared at his side and patted Luke’s shoulder in greeting. Luke talked to him for a minute before Timo pointed your way. Luke’s face split with a smile when he saw you and he gave Timo a pat before beelining towards you.

You looped your arms around Luke’s neck when he joined you, leaning up on your tiptoes to kiss him.

“Gross,” Nico complained from next to you. “It’s only been a few minutes since you’ve seen each other.”

“You’re not in love,” Luke replied, snarky and sarcastic like he tended to be when it wasn’t just the two of you. He then turned to you. “Where’s my drink?”

“What a priority,” you teased, rolling your eyes at him. He pinched your side. “I sent Johnny to go get it.”

Luke’s expression changed for a split second before he schooled his features. You wouldn’t have noticed it if you weren’t so in tune with his emotions, experience that comes only after years of dating a person.

You let it go, knowing that it can’t be too important, or Luke would have said something. He knew you were friends with guys on the team. After being around them for almost a year, having moved out here with Luke at the start of his rookie year, it was bound to happen. Plus, Luke wasn’t the jealous type. He knew that you loved him and you’d love him forever, saying yes in a second if he chose to propose.

But to him, there was something about the way you said “Johnny” instead of John. It was that and John’s hand on your back as he guided you into the bar, on top of an already hard night, that had Luke questioning himself.

“I asked him to get you a rum and coke,” you said, tilting your head up to poke Luke’s nose with your own. “Is that okay?”

“It sounds good, thank you,” Luke replied.

You resume conversation with Nico, turning to face him but staying tucked into Luke’s side. He had a hand on your hip and the other accepted the drink that John handed Luke when he returned. He nursed it quietly for a while, engaging in conversation here and there, but mostly just enjoying his time with his friends.

The game was the last time that his whole team would be together like that, but this night out was the last time that his team, his friends, would be together in the way that mattered. Even if no one was traded, if no one changed in the slightest (except Jack, coming back from injury), things still wouldn’t be quite the same. It wouldn’t be his second year, his presence wouldn’t be new or exciting. He would have to try harder, do better, and be consistent to show that he wasn’t just an example of beginner’s luck.

He clutched you a little tighter to his side at that thought. He was comforted by the way that you melted into him, moving to lean back against his chest. Your hand covered his and the other polished off your drink. He took the empty cup from you and kissed your cheek before pulling away to toss your cup, and his, in the trash can behind him.

When he returned, he was taken aback by the sight before him.

You had stepped forward and were carding your fingers through John’s curls and Luke saw red before he saw the thoughtful look on your face. John had just said to you and Nico that he thought his hair was getting too long, too unruly. You didn’t agree– it was a good length, the curls were just settling into their shapes.

“I don’t think you should cut it, John,” you were saying before Luke grabbed your other wrist and yanked you towards him. “Luke!” You exclaimed, startled by the movement.

“Time to go,” Luke announced, loud enough that the other boys could hear. He clutched your wrist, not your hand, your wrist, and pulled you along as he stomped toward the exit.

“Luke, what is going on?” You asked, voice resounding in your ears like it’s much louder than it actually is.

Luke kept walking like he didn’t even hear you, pushing through the door and leading you down the block to the car. He opened your door for you and helped you in, but he slammed it shut once you were buckled into your seat. He rounded the car and opened his own door, glaring at you in a passing glance before settling into the driver’s seat.

“Lu,” you implored, pressing your hands against the top of your thighs.

When he didn’t reply, you tried again.

“Babe, talk to me–”

“I don’t want you to speak unless you’re spoken to,” Luke said. He refused to look at you. “You think you can touch John’s hair the way you touch mine? You’ll let him guide you into the bar the way I would? I’m not enough for you, huh, baby?”

You blinked, suddenly shifting up to sit a little straighter. Luke, your sweet angel Luke, the baby of his family who would never hurt a fly, who avoided hockey fights at every cost, had flipped his switch.

“Answer me. I asked you a question.”

“No, sir,” you said. Your eyes flickered down to where Luke’s knuckles were white with how hard he was gripping the steering wheel. You inhaled sharply as you made eye contact with the veins decorating the back of his hand.

“No?” Luke repeated, mocking. “I’m not enough for you?”

“No! Lu, you’re more than enough, you know you’re the only one I need.” Your words came out scrambled and you tripped over them.

Luke clicked his tongue, disapproval written all over his face. “Can’t even speak, can you?” He scoffed, reached down with one hand, and popped the button on his jeans. “Let’s put your mouth to a better use until you can find your words.”

“You’re driving,” you pointed out, casting a worried look at the road ahead of you.

“It wasn’t a question,” Luke threw you a glance. He looked back at the road, then back to you, this time holding your gaze. He cocked his head to the side, eyes softening for a moment. “Was it?”

“No,” you breathed out.

“Good girl.” A smile spread over Luke’s face and he turned back to the road. “Get to it.”

You clenched your thighs together and unbuckled your seatbelt so you could twist towards Luke and lean over the center console. You reached out to unzip his pants, but he knocked your hands away.

“I didn’t say use your hand. I said,” he paused, grabbing your hair and tilting your head up so your eyes met his, “Use your mouth.”

The noise that escaped you was involuntary. You moved forward that extra inch and carefully took Luke’s zipper in your mouth, dragging it down. His boxers were revealed by the action, but that was the extent of it.

“Come on,” Luke encouraged, growing impatient. What you couldn’t see from your position was the smug tilt of his mouth, knowing there was no way to get his cock out of his pants with just your mouth. “Take it out.”

“Can’t,” you whimpered.

“Oh, you can’t?” Luke mocked, feigning sympathy. “Poor baby needs my help, yeah?”

You nodded and hummed an agreement.

Luke’s grip tightened on your hair and he gave it a sharp tug. “Use your manners.”

“Please, Lu, help me,” you conceded.

“Help you what?”

“Help me take your cock out so I can suck you, please, sir.” Your voice was close to breaking, you were itching to get your mouth on him and make him feel good.

Luke obliged, revealing himself to you. You opened your mouth and he pumped himself twice just to tease you before slapping the lip of his cock on the flat of your tongue. He fed you his cock, returning his hand to your hair when you had taken as much of his length in your mouth as you could. He gathered your hair into a messy ponytail with his one hand, the other still on the wheel, and began to guide your head up and down.

You gagged when he guided you to his base, nose touching the fabric of his boxers around his cock, but the groan he let out made the discomfort worth it. It was low and desperate, just pure relief.

“Wanna fuck your mouth,” Luke breathed out, pulling you up so just the tip of his cock remained in your mouth.

You hollowed your cheeks and sucked, swiping your tongue over his slit and relishing in the taste of his precum in your mouth.

He moaned aloud, the sound seeming to echo throughout the car. You could feel your heartbeat in your fingertips. You let out a sigh, suddenly overwhelmed with contentment for your situation. Luke was perfect. He was the perfect boyfriend, whether he was his soft and cuddly self or this dominant version of him that wasn’t afraid to tell you what to do, to communicate what he wanted.

“Would if I weren’t driving, too,” Luke mumbled, mostly to himself. “Fuck, baby, make me come. You know how.”

Luke returned both hands to the steering wheel and allowed you to move your head freely, to go at your own pace. You bobbed your head with enthusiasm, spit dripping down his shaft and soaking the fabric around him. You gagged at times, but the tight squeeze of your throat around him just added to Luke’s pleasure. He wasn’t shy about telling you how good you felt, either, making you more determined to make him come.

“Fuck, pull off,” Luke said, his voice a little shaky.

You couldn’t. You couldn’t, not when he was so close. The idea of having his come in your mouth, on your tongue, the manifestation of how you made him feel, was too alluring.

“Y/N, pull off,” Luke commanded, reaching down to yank you off of him by your hair. He clenched his jaw as he held you just far enough off his cock that you thought, with just one bump in the road, you could capture it again. He steered out of the lane and parked on the side of the road. “You don’t want to listen? You’re so cockdumb that you can’t follow my orders?”

All you could do was look at him, eyes wide.

He spoke through his teeth, never once blinking or breaking eye contact. “Since you want me inside you so bad, I’m gonna fuck your mouth until I come. You’re gonna take it. Even if you gag, even if you cry, I’m not going to stop until I come. Then, you’re going to sit back and buckle yourself in and I’m going to finish driving us home. You will not swallow. You’re going to hold my come in your mouth until I say so. Do you understand?”

Your jaw dropped at the words, the tips of your ears growing hot. “Yes, sir.” It’s nearly inaudible and you can feel your panties growing damper with just the thought of it– minute after minute ticking by, Luke’s come coating your tongue, not being able to speak or swallow. You’re completely under Luke’s control.

He leaned back in the seat and motioned toward his cock.

You allowed him to guide you onto his length again, getting comfortable with its size. You hollowed your cheeks and looked up at him, pausing your movements and staying statue-still.

A smirk took over Luke’s face. “That’s my girl.”

He took your head with both hands, keeping your hair out of your face and keeping you from moving an inch, and began to thrust into your mouth. It was sharp and hard and you tried to create a vacuum-type suction around his cock, as tight as you knew he liked it, but it was hard with the head of his dick hitting the back of your throat with every buck of his hips. You ended up gagging, and crying, and drooling all over his cock, just like Luke had said, and he fulfilled his promise that he wouldn’t stop.

“Look at you, making such a mess of yourself,” Luke scoffed. “Such a mess all over my cock, just to make me feel good. You’d let me do whatever I wanted, wouldn’t you, baby? You’d never let anyone else take you like this, just me, yeah? No one else gets to see you just leaking all over my cock because you’re mine.”

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head at that and the moan you released around Luke’s length caused his hips to stutter, made him unable to hold back his orgasm any longer. He came in stripes all over your tongue, some of it leaking down the back of your throat before you could stop it. He pulled you off of him and crashed his lips against yours, a close-mouthed kiss because you wouldn’t dare disobey, couldn’t handle the idea of disappointing Luke.

“My good girl,” Luke cooed when he pulled away.

You offered him a lazy smile, head foggy and bones mushy. You were sated, an elevated version of just happy, and so, so comfortable. You loved him. He was everything.

“I’m not done with you yet, am I?” Luke asked softly, thumbing over your bottom lip.

You shook your head.

“Open,” Luke said. “I want to see my come on your tongue.”

You hesitantly opened your mouth, pushing your tongue out so he could see the milky white substance coating the muscle.

Luke captured your cheeks with one hand and leaned in with the other holding your head in place. You stared at his eyes, which were watching your tongue as a line of his saliva mixed with the come in your mouth. When his eyes rose to meet yours, it was the embers of desire that made your head roll back and the instinct, the pure instinct of having something in your mouth, that caused you to swallow.

Your head snapped forward, eyes wide and not doe-eyed, not purposefully innocent to make Luke’s heart jump. No, your eyes were wide with worry because you disobeyed him. It wasn’t something you did to spite him or push him further over the line.

“I’m sorry.” The words leaked from your mouth and you scrambled to take Luke’s hand in yours, clutching his right with both of yours. “Luke, it was an accident, you know I’d never–”

His mouth was open in shock, briefly, before it snapped shut and his eyes twinkled with something downright predatory. His hand was limp in yours (though not pulling away) and he was still.

“But you did,” He interrupted. “You did.”

“I didn’t mean to.” You were trying to reason with him, but you knew the damage was done. Whatever he had planned for you when you got back to the house, it was going to be ten times worse now.

Luke just shook his head and removed his hand from your grasp, pulling back onto the highway and resuming the drive home. You weren’t far, the area around you looking more and more familiar with each passing second. The minutes stretched for what seemed like hours with Luke’s silence. You held your own hand nervously, pinching at the skin of you knuckles and avoiding Luke’s face. You couldn’t handle seeing the disappointment etched into his features.

Luke pulled into the garage of the apartment complex after just about five minutes. Suddenly, it hits you– you have the apartment all to yourselves tonight. There’s nothing to stop Luke, or you for that matter, from being as loud or as public as he wants. There’s a window in the living room, one that Luke mentioned after your last session. A spark traveled up your spine when you realize that tonight might be the night that he fucks you out in the open, for anyone to see.

When he shifted the car into park, Luke turned to you expectantly.

You apologized again, softly, once he looked at you.

His features softened then, seeing your apprehension. He reached out and took your hand. “Are you okay?”

“I feel bad that I didn’t listen,” you replied. Your eyes fell on your shoelaces, which were an off-white color after plenty of use. You made a note to yourself that maybe you should wash them soon. You wondered if they’d return to their original color. The shoes were much more interesting than looking up at Luke and meeting his eyes.

He tilted your head upward with a guided hand anyway. “You’re still my good girl,” he reassured. “Are you okay to keep going? Or do you want me to stop? I won’t be mad. Whatever you want, we can do it. We can leave this in the car and I can take care of you, baby.”

You could cry at his words, how great he is about your slip-up. You did want him to be sweet, but you knew that he needed this. He needed to work through whatever was going on in his mind and if he could just be in control of this, just for a little while longer, it would be so much easier for him later.

“I want to keep going,” you admitted.

“You know your word?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Tell me?”

“Flower.”

“That’s right, baby.” Luke pecked your lips, but when he pulled back he was back to business. “Now, are you ready to listen to me?”

You nodded, eyes trained on his. Neither of you blinked, a silent contest that he ended up losing (something that would normally cause you to gloat, but now doesn’t seem like the right time).

“When you get to the apartment, you’re going to strip. You’re going to sit on the edge of our bed. You’re going to touch yourself while you wait for me and I want you to watch yourself in the mirror. If you come, and you know I’ll know if you do, you’re not going to come at all tonight. I want you to bring yourself right to the edge and stay there. Can you do that for me?” He spoke slowly and clearly, his voice gravely and dominant. He didn’t stumble over his words or pause and “um” like he did in interviews. No, this was when Luke was at his surest. This was when he knew exactly what to do, exactly what to say.

“I can do that,” you agreed, unbuckling your seatbelt and gathering your things.

“I’m going to give you a five minute head start.”

You nodded at Luke, opened your door, and left the vehicle. When you got up to the apartment, you didn’t bother to hang your coat or purse on the hooks Luke put up just for you. You didn’t put your shoes neatly like the door like you normally did. Instead, you dropped your belongings and kicked the shoes off one by one on your walk to the bedroom. You shed your clothing in a similar manner, leaving a trail behind for Luke to chuckle at when he walked in the door.

Fully naked, you stared at yourself in the mirror that faced your bed. You read once that it was bad luck to have a mirror face a bed, that your reflection could like… capture your soul, or something, but you kept the mirror there anyway because if there was anything Luke enjoyed, it was seeing himself fuck you in the mirror. He liked to watch you ride him in reverse cowgirl, so he could see your ass jiggle as you bounced on his cock with his own eyes and your whole body in the reflection.

Sometimes, his hands would drift up and he would hold your tits, watching how he could envelop them in his palms. You tilt your head to the side, watching your own hands slide up your body to do the same.

For everything you could imagine Luke doing, there your hands were trying to satisfy yourself. If you closed your eyes, you could convince yourself that it was him instead.

His cock would disappear into your pussy, thrusting in and out and causing you to whine. His fingers would circle your clit or pinch your nipples. He would palm your ass, or reach up to wrap his hand around your neck. He would reach just that spot…

You didn’t ever hear it when Luke opened the door and joined you in the room. He thought you knew he was coming, with the way you were whining his name and begging for him. Your eyes snapped open as he closed the door behind him and you quickly pulled your fingers out from inside of you.

Luke walked over to you and sank onto his knees between your legs. “Gimme a taste, love.”

You offered him your fingers, which he took into his mouth. He sucked on them softly for far too short a time, in your opinion, with the way his cheekbones became more prominent as he cleaned your fingers of your wetness.

“Tastes good,” he told you with a smile when he was finished.

“Thank you,” you replied, practically a whimper. Your chest felt tight, like someone was squeezing your heart in your chest. You were waiting, just waiting, for Luke to tell you what was next.

He rose to sit on the bed next to you, guiding you to shift over so you were sitting on his lap. “I’m going to spank you,” he whispered against your lips. “Just ten times. That’s all. It’ll go fast, but I’m not going to go easy on you. I know you can take it.” Luke kissed you again, snuck his tongue into your mouth for a quick, far too quick pass, before pulling back. “Turn over, baby, and lean over my knee, yeah?”

Your movements were slow, your brain turning foggy again like it was in the car. Luke helped you over his knee, still clothed. The contrast between how clothed he was and how naked you were almost made you drool. It was nearly embarrassing, being this down bad for Luke when he seemed to be completely fine, unaffected.

Luke snapped you out of your thoughts with a spank. The pain was only there for a split second before Luke was rubbing soothing circles over your skin. You shivered when he dipped his hand lower and trailed a finger through your folds.

“So wet,” he murmured.

You clenched down and he pulled away, only to deliver a second slap to your cheek. You shivered, goosebumps rising over your arms.

“So, baby, tell me,” Luke began, bringing down his hand again. “Why am I spanking you?” He waited for you to answer before bringing his hand down again. “Because I swallowed– oh– when you told me not to.”

“Mhm. Why else?”

Another spank. Now, it was starting to sting. Your ass had turned a pretty shade of pink that caused Luke to bite his lip and run his hands over your skin, feeling the heat radiate off the surface.

You were quiet. You weren’t quite sure. Holding his come in your mouth had been the punishment for not pulling off when he told you to. You had been slow to say please in the car, but that wasn’t ever something Luke would punish you for, just something he’d remind you to do. “For, um…” You trailed off, not sure what to say.

Luke scoffed and spanked you three times, harsh enough that his handprint stayed imprinted on your body for longer than it normally did when he spanked you. You cried out, your head dropping and tears welling up in your eyes.

“‘For, um,’” he mocked. “You don’t know? You’re that fucking dumb that you can’t remember what happened less than an hour ago?”

“Lu, please,” were the words that escaped your mouth instead of an answer to his question. They were teary and he almost stopped, almost, just because of how your voice shook.

“Please what?” He spat, another slap echoing throughout the room.

“I don’t know,” You sobbed. “I don’t know why you’re mad at me.”

“Five more,” Luke warned you and you nodded.

It took a lot out of you, agreeing for five more, but Luke wouldn’t do anything he didn’t think you could handle.

“How about this, baby?” Luke said. Slap. “For touching John’s hair the same way you touch mine?” Slap. “For letting the boys guide you into the restaurant like you’re their girlfriend, not mine.” Slap. “For sending John off to get me a drink when I told you to do so?” Slap. “For not listening?” Slap. “For being a fucking brat?”

You wailed, slumped against Luke. He got a good look at you in the mirror, boneless over his knee. He took in the red skin of your ass, tracing the line of his raised handprint.

“You’re mine,” Luke continued, sounding off. You turned your head towards the mirror, eyes hazy but still able to make him out. He was waiting for you to look at him, for your eyes to meet his. “You can’t– you can’t treat him like he’s special.”

And suddenly, it all clicked. Luke was jealous because he was scared of the same thing you’d skated around in your conversation right after the game. Luke wanted to be special, wanted you to see him and need him. He needed you to need him, to let him take control and take care of you and decide things for you, all because he didn’t want to be the person who lost everything because he wasn’t good enough. Even the idea that John could possibly take Luke’s place, as preposterous as it was to you, sent Luke into a spiral.

“Fuck me, Luke,” you said, voice shaky and light because of the headspace you were in. “Take me. I’m yours. Prove it.”

Gently, so gently in contrast to his prior actions, Luke helped you up and lay you down on your back on the bed, placing a pillow under your hips. You lay there for a few minutes, blinking slowly and watching as Luke shed his clothes and rummaged through his dresser drawers for something. His back was to you and you smiled to yourself, too fucked out to let out a giggle, at his backside. When Luke turned around, two of his gameday ties in hand, he cocked his head to the side at your smile.

“What are you smiling about?” He asked.

“Boy butts are so funny,” You answered. “They’re just so small. Like… where are your hips, Lu?”

Luke blinked a few times, then shook his head. “Oh my God, you’ve lost it.”

“I’ve been thinking it. We need to get you in the gym.”

“You’re being a brat.”

“And your butt is small.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Luke scoffed. He had walked to the bed and was tying one of your hands to his headboard.

“I’m waiting.”

Luke huffed out a laugh at your response. “You’re making it hard to dom you, baby.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, was the road head not enough?”

Luke shushed you, moving to your other hand and tying that one with the other tie.

“What about the spitting in my mouth and spanking me?” You continue, goading him.

Luke crawled up your body, kissing up your stomach and chest and neck as he went.

One more sentence, and he wouldn’t find it so difficult to dominate you for this final stretch.

He’s hovering over your lips, his breath fanning out over them.

“I bet Johnny could do it better.”

Luke pulled back, jaw dropped. His mouth returned to a strait line and his eyes turned murderous. There it was, there’s the dominance that he thought he lost.

You smirked at him, proud of yourself for the comment you made, until Luke’s palm made contact with your cheek. Your head turned with the impact and you swore your heart stopped. You were too surprised to say anything. As the seconds of silence passed where you and Luke just stared at each other, same shocked expression on your face, you realized: huh. That’s not so different from when he spanks me.

Then, another second after that: That was kind of… hot.

“Are you okay?” Luke breathed out. He’s practically frozen in place.

“Yeah,” you replied. “Oh my God, Luke, yeah.” You pulled on the restraints above you, itching to get him inside of you. You circled your legs around his waist and raised your hips, trying to make contact with him. “Fuck, Lu, that was so hot, please fuck me.”

Luke blinked twice and searched your face for any discomfort, anything that would show him that you were upset or hurt by his slap. He hadn’t even done it intentionally, just driven by the pure rage of you mentioning John, saying that John could be better for you than Luke was.

It wasn’t until your wiggling hips caused his cock to make contact with your weeping pussy that he began to move.

He started by pinning your hips down.

“Greedy,” he chastised.

“I need you in me, don’t treat me like I’m made of glass,” you whined.

Luke positioned himself at your entrance and snapped his hips forward, burying himself inside you in one fell swoop.

It knocked all the breath out of you. Even after dating Luke for ages, his size still surprised you.

“How’s that, huh? Can you feel me? Do you think I’m treating you gently?” Luke asked, grinding his teeth as he fucked in and out of you. His skin was slapping against yours and he moved one of our legs so your knee was thrown over his shoulder. “You think Marino could fuck you like this?” He practically spat out John’s name, disgust coating each syllable.

“Probably,” you quipped, your voice snarky. You were itching for Luke to slap you again, or something, because he wasn’t giving it everything. He was still shaken up by the fact that he hit you at all.

“‘Probably,’” He repeated, incredulous. “You’ll never know, will you, baby?” He snaps his hips harder, faster. “This is my pussy. It only gets wet for me, you only spread your legs for me, you can be a slut all you want but only in the confines of these four walls. You can be bad, only right here… where I’m able to fuck. it. out. of you.”

You moan, wanton and long in the back of your throat. Your hands are aching to grab his hair, to twist the curls between your fingers. “Lu, my hand,” you told him.

“What about it?” He asked, not slowing his pace.

“Untie it, please!”

Luke looked down at you, confused. “Why?”

You whined, keening as your back arched and you squeezed his cock. “Need to get a hand on you, Lu, fuck. Wanna pull your hair. So pretty, so much prettier than John’s.”

“Oh,” he whispered, his stomach turning. He reached up to undo the knot, trying to continue to fuck you and untie it at the same time. When your hand came free, it immediately found purchase in his curls. Your fingernails scraped his scalp and his eyes rolled in the back of his head as he bucked into you with uncoordinated thrusts. “Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned. “Gonna make me come.”

“Please,” you begged. “Inside me, inside me–”

Your vision went white and your pussy was like a vice around him as you came.

“Yeah, yeah,” Luke agreed, voice strained. He watched the bliss wash over your features and whined. “Fuck you til you’re full, show everyone you’re all mine.”

It’s the thought of pumping his seed into you, making you round with his child, that sends Luke over the edge. No one would think to take you from him then, not that you’d ever go. No one would ever be able to call you theirs like he could call you his, not when he’s fucked you full, not when you’re carrying his baby.

“So perfect for me,” Luke mumbled in your ear, collapsing on top of you as he came down from his orgasm.

“Just for you, Lu.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You paused, rubbing his back. “You know we have to talk about this, right? You’re more than enough and I don’t want you to feel insecure anymore.”

Luke pulled himself out of you, wincing at the sensitivity. “Can we talk about it tomorrow? I think we could both use some rest.”

He got up from the bed and walked into his bathroom, grabbing a towel and coming back to wipe you clean.

“Can it wait that long?” You fixed him with a look of concern.

“Baby.” Luke cut his eyes at you, then finished wiping you down. “It can wait until tomorrow.”

You shrugged. “Okay,” you agreed, then made yourself comfortable, pulling the covers over your body. You turned over, back to Luke, and spoke like it was an afterthought. “I loved it when you slapped me, you know.”

Luke groaned, leaned over to give you a kiss on your cheek. “I’m sorry I was mean.”

“Mmm, mean Luke gets me hot just like sweet Luke,” you replied. You turned your head and kissed his lips. “I like sweet Luke more, though. Sweet Luke cuddles me while I’m asleep.”

Luke laughed, going to toss the dirty towel in the dirty clothes hamper. “Sweet Luke will be back to cuddle you after he brushes his teeth,” he said.

When he returned, your breath was even and you had already fallen asleep, the ghost of a smile still gracing your lips. Luke bit his tongue, joined you under the covers, and threw his arm over the curve of your waist. Within just a few minutes, he was fast asleep next to you, softly snoring with his nose pressed into your hair.

notes: so, I, uh..... got a little carried away. I just kept having ideas. And I hope it worked out for me, to be fair. Hiiiiiii anon I hope this was good for youuuu love you bigggg I felt so awky-tawky writing some of this because as much as I would looooove a man to treat me like this, it feels so silly to write. Anyway. Loving y'all.

SEND MORE REQUESTS! I'LL GET TO THEM EVENTUALLY (they might not all be this long LOLLL)

#puck-luck's fics #luke hughes #luke hughes smut #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes x y/n #nhl smut #nhl x reader #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #lh43 #andy writes anything🍄

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gowthamnfbd · 2 years

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fiapartridge · 4 months

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wedding bells | quinn hughes

summary: in which y/n and her fiancé, quinn hughes, plan their long-awaited wedding.

request: [...i read invisible string...and it made me think of when they’re actually engaged and planning their wedding...quinn would love cake tasting and picking out the menu...and the bride loves planning the wedding but...[it's] stressful and she wants everything to be perfect. some minor thing goes wrong and she has a bridezilla breakdown moment and quinn is so sweet and calms her down...]

author's note 💌: eeee i love this request!!!! thank u anon for requesting; it's so cute!

cake tasting

“I’ve been waiting for this day since the moment I learned this existed,” Quinn beamed, his eyes fixed on the road as he exited the freeway. His right hand rested gently on your thigh, and you couldn’t help but grin, happy that he finally wanted to be involved in a part of the wedding planning process—even if today was all about cake.

With a playful tilt of your head, a mock tsk of disapproval escaped your lips as Quinn raised an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t you be eating healthy for your game next week? How about I eat the cake and you watch.”

“And watch you live out my dream?” he scoffed. “Yeah, the game’s not that important.”

“That game is gonna secure your spot in the playoffs, Captain,” you smirked, playfully poking his arm. You loved teasing him about his captaincy, like saying Aye aye, Captain whenever he asked you for a favor, or your personal fave, So when does the team give you your honorary eye patch and silver hooky thingy? To which he always responds with, Not that kind of captain, babe.

As Quinn pulled into the bakery’s parking lot, he cupped your cheeks in his hand, his face growing serious, feeling almost like a team huddle. His voice lowered, and his face drew close to yours as he laid out some sort of plan. “I’m gonna eat a lot of cake today, so much that I wore my stretchy pants-”

“Oh, the Lululemon ones that I bought you?” You got them for him as a Christmas gift along with other items. You were happy that he actually wore them outside the house for once.

“Yes those ones, but we need to stay focused.” You nodded intently, totally focused. “Jack is gonna call you later and he’s gonna ask you if I ate any of this cake today, and I’m gonna need you to lie.”

A burst of laughter escaped you. “You want me to lie to Jacky? About you eating cake? During our cake tasting? Because…”

“Because him and Luke have a bet going on that I’m gonna break my diet for this, and Luke said that if he wins we’re splitting the cash 50/50, so I really need you to lie, baby.”

Rolling your eyes, you opened the passenger door, Quinn doing the same on his side. “I really don’t understand you guys. Like, why not just be normal and bet on who’s winning the next Super Bowl or something?”

Quinn wrapped around the front of the car, intertwining his fingers with yours as you approached the bakery’s entrance. “Did that a few years ago, we each lost $700 to Luke.”

“Jesus, you guys are loaded. The last time my family and I had a bet, we each did $10 and whatever old gift card we had stowed away in our wallets. Apparently mine was from 2015 and the place it was for got shut down for rat poisoning? I don’t know,” you shrugged.

As the hours passed and the 20th cake flavor came around, Quinn felt like his stretchy pants were out of stretch, and you felt like you could take a nap right on top of the table. Cakes were not for the weak, let me tell you that.

“I feel like everything tastes the same now,” Quinn struggled to get the words out. Not because he didn’t know what to say, but because he was trying not to heave and talk at the same time.

“I feel like I can’t feel my legs,” you replied, a visible food baby proudly displayed on your belly.

Dipping your finger into the frosting of the pink champagne cake, guaranteed to be the most fanciest cake you’ve ever had, you swiped it across Quinn’s nose. “Oops,” you grinned. “I’m just so full; I must’ve twitched or something.”

Rolling his eyes, Quinn smeared the orange creamsicle cake across your face, as if you were donning eye black and dodging defenders past the 40-yard line.

“Oh, you’re getting it,” you laughed, swiping a finger across the blueberry with graham cracker crumble, a grandma’s dying wish, planting strokes on his chin and forehead. “Aw, don’t you look cute?” you teased.

He smirked, getting impossibly close. It was good that the wedding planner and cake baker were in another room chatting, or else they would probably be yelling at you two to get your hands off each other at once. “Wanna make a bet?”

“Hm, does it involve me losing thousands of dollars?” He shook his head. “Hundreds?” Another shake. “Any money?” One more. “Then you’re on, pretty boy. What’s your proposition?”

“We leave right now and you can lick all of this off in the car-”

“Amy!” you shouted for your wedding planner as she came stumbling into the room, afraid something was wrong. “We have to go; family emergency,” you pouted, really selling it. “I’ll see you next weekend, okay?”

“Oh, yeah, okay!” she nodded. “Take care of the family!”

“Will do!” you shouted, dragging Quinn behind you as if you were Lightning McQueen in any of the Cars movies. Boy, were you quick. Even Quinn was shook and he skated with some of the fastest hockey players around.

“I win,” Quinn whispered, his lips pressed to the crown of your head as you reached the car, pushing him inside.

“Yeah? Kinda seems like I’m the winner.”

the wedding rehearsal

“Oh, don’t you flower girls look cute?” you smiled, drawing your knees to your chest as you bent down to meet them eye-level. “You ready to walk the runway?”

“Daddy said this was a wedding,” Ella, your brother’s daughter, shyly replied, playing with a couple of petals in the basket.

“Wedding shmedding,” you grinned, earning giggles from the little ones. “Think of it as a runway, and you’re the models.”

“What about,” Grace, Brady and Emma’s daughter piped up, “it’s a runway and I’m the airplane?”

“Oh,” you said, eyes widening a bit before breaking into a giggle.

“That works too! Just don’t be afraid, okay? If it makes you two feel any better, Uncle Jacky has to walk the aisle and he can barely skate on two feet.”

“Hey!” Jack popped out of the line forming behind the three of you, a procession of earthy-toned dresses and black-and-white suits ready to rehearse for the big day. The sight made you want to cry. Everyone you ever cared about was here for you and Quinn, for your big day.

It brought you back to the moment you met Quinn, the moment your life truly began. You were friends with Emma, having met in college at Boston University where you also met Brady. You had just gotten out of a year-long relationship and were stressed over midterms, so Emma suggested that you get a “sex-tox” — a detox involving, well, sex. It sounded perfect at the time. Fuck a stranger, never see them again, release some stress, and live your best life.

But that’s kind of hard to do when that stranger is Quinn Hughes. You fell in love with him the moment Brady introduced you. Maybe it was the way his hand lingered in yours for a just a second longer than what’s considered a “normal” handshake, or maybe it was the way his eyes followed you throughout the bar like he was scared that you would come back to the table with another guy’s arm draped over your shoulder, or maybe it was the way he said your name, like it was made for his lips and his voice.

He was just so perfect and now you were marrying him. It all felt so much like a dream, like you’ll wake up one day and everything will be gone. But when you see Quinn laughing with his groomsmen, his eyes immediately finding yours, his arms flying around your body, hundreds of whistles and hoots coming from everyone around you as you tuned them out, your attention solely placed on the man you’ll be able to call your husband as little as tomorrow, you know that this is real, and he is yours, and this is peace.

the wedding day

This is a disaster. The centerpiece flowers are sky blue instead of columbia, your grandma wants to trade seats with William Nylander because she has this newfound obsession with Mitch Marner which would put William Nylander with your grandpa and the weird uncle that always gets way too drunk at weddings but will never admit that he has an alcohol problem, chalking it up to a “one time thing.” Even though we all know that he’s gonna do it again at the next wedding! And to top the shit-cake that is this day, your wedding planner decided to be selfish and break her water overnight, so now she’s in the hospital trying to push a tiny human out of her uterus while you’re here trying not to physically strangle every single person that comes to you with a question.

You were tired, and nervous, and your makeup looks terrible, and you feel bloated, and you don’t feel pretty enough to walk down that aisle, and you don’t feel pretty enough to be with Quinn, and why would he want to be with a girl that can’t even plan her own damn wedding correctly? And you just feel…defeated.

“Hey, Y/N,” Luke bounced through the door of your bridal suite, his hand hovering over his eyes.

“You don’t have to cover your eyes, Luke, you’re not the groom,” you muttered, fiddling with the ends of your hair.

“Right,” he chuckled nervously. “Um, so there’s a problem.”

You closed your eyes, sighing. You felt like your head might explode. What else are we going to add to this ginormous shit storm of a day? Let me guess, Cole already got shit-faced at the mini bar, or Nico got lost on the way here and that car held Jesper, Holtz, and Dougie, or oh! Did your brother get into conversation with Trevor on how he can perfect his alley-oop if he substituted Milano with him? Seriously, what else can get worse than this?

“We can’t find Quinn.”

You’re gonna throw up. Are you already throwing up? Because there’s this tingly feeling that’s bubbling in your throat, and you don’t know if it’s from the copious amount of champagne you consumed last night or the urge to find Quinn and murder him with your bare hands. I think it’s the latter.

Before Luke could say anything else, you dashed towards the door, his calls fading behind you. You didn’t know if you were running to find Quinn or to escape this hell hole for yourself. Maybe Quinn was onto something. Maybe this was a bad idea. I mean, were you that naive to believe that someone like Quinn would actually want to marry someone like you?

With your shoes discarded, you found solace on a rock overlooking a small lake near the venue. Your once pristine white gown was now engulfed in the grass, your disheveled hair was poking out of its metal claw clip, your mascara was noticeably smudged, and the tears wouldn’t stop streaming down your face no matter how hard you tried to stop it. You were nervous about the wedding, but I guess it doesn’t matter anymore since the groom is apparently missing and nothing else is working out. Ha! Now they don’t even have a bride. This is terrific.

With crunching leaves, you heard a small, “Hey,” behind you.

You turned slowly to find Quinn, the man of the hour, finally present. You didn’t say anything, fearing that your words would come out with a choke. You couldn’t stop crying.

Quinn settled down on the rock next to you. “I’m sorry for leaving like that, I just—had to clear my head for a bit. I’m a little nervous.”

“Are you getting cold feet?” you mumbled, scared to hear his answer. You knew he loved you, but you also knew that he would put people’s feelings way above his own. You didn’t want to marry him if he was having doubts.

He shook his head. “No.” His hands found yours amid the puffiness of your dress. “I don’t have a single doubt in my mind that you’re the woman I want to marry.”

“So why-”

“There’s like 300 people out there waiting to see us get married, and Jack’s already talking about us having a kid in the next couple months, and—it’s a lot, you know? You?”

You furrowed your brows. “Me, what?”

“Getting cold feet?”

You shook your head. “I’m tired,” you admitted, your voice breaking. “I feel like everything’s going wrong today. Amy’s out having a baby, the flowers are the wrong shade of blue, Grandma wants to sit next to Mitch Marner, I thought you left, and-”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Quinn cupped your face, wiping your tears with his thumbs, just as he has done time and time before. The gesture never fails to give you a sense of comfort. “Years from now, when we’re old and living in a house in the suburbs, and you’ll probably have an orange tabby cat on your lap, and we’ll be telling stories to our grandchildren about our wedding day, we’re not gonna remember the color of the flowers, or who sat next to Marner, or any of that, okay?”

You nodded.

“We’re gonna remember you and me. We’re gonna remember how much I love you. And we’re probably gonna remember us sitting on rocks, stalling our own wedding day.”

A giggle escaped you because this was all so ridiculous. Quinn was right; you’re not gonna remember everything that went wrong. You and Quinn—that’s all that matters.

You pressed a long, innocent, and probably salty kiss on his lips. He saw you in your wedding dress, a superstitious hockey player breaking a centuries-long superstition, but for once, you didn’t care.

“You ready to get married?” Quinn grinned, holding his hand out to you.

You nodded, taking his hand. “I’m ready.”

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes angst #quinn hughes fluff #vancouver canucks

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bahiscom · 2 years

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En Yüksek BONUS FIRSATLARI ile #BAHİS·COM'da NBA Karşılaşmalarına Özel %30 BONUS 🏀 NBA Playoffs heyecanı hiç bu kadar kazançlı olmamıştı.

☘️ Bahis'e Giren Bir Gün Değil Her Gün KAZANIR ! Sende en yüksek kazançlar ile yerini al kazancını katla! 📲 BAHİS'E GİREN KAZANIR !

#bahiscom #nba playoffs #road to final

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bad268 · 3 months

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Mr. Irrelevant Becomes Relevant (Brock Purdy X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/NFL

Requested: Nope, in honor of the Super Bowl

Warnings: hurt/comfort, insecurities, one sex joke at the end if you squint

Pronouns: Second Person (You/your and one use of ma’am)

W.C. 1356

Summary: When the weight of the Super Bowl gets too much, the reader takes it upon themself to show Brock why he's there.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

The road to the Super Bowl was long and tiring, but it was finally here. After being knocked out of the playoffs last year from a dirty play that ended in Brock being taken out of the game, he was back and on a roll. This was the first Super Bowl you had a personal connection with since you started your job as a Field Team Coordinator in 2021 after graduating from Iowa State. Your job was to plan the stage and work with the chosen artist to structure how the Apple Halftime Show would go.

Maybe it was the fact that this was the first year you were doing it all on your own or maybe it was the fact that your boyfriend and his team were playing in the game, but you were beyond anxious and excited for everything.

You had to be in Las Vegas two weeks before the Super Bowl, so you left Brock in San Francisco right after the championship game (after storming the field and congratulating him of course). He had to stay back with the team, but he met you there the following week.

It was hard the week leading up to the Super Bowl. You knew he was having doubts and overanalyzing every game he had ever played, and you wanted to comfort him. You really did! However, he had training during the mornings, and you had to be at the stadium by noon to run through the halftime show every night, so you had to settle for the brief morning interactions.

A short “You’ve got this” or “I believe in you” in passing became the short-term norm. It was not much, but it got what you needed to say out there. It seemed like it did not really help with Brock’s nerves, unfortunately.

That’s why you were happy to find out that Kyle Shanahan made Saturday a rest day, so you called in and told your right hands that you would be available remotely. If it was an emergency and they really needed you, you would go in, but there were not any pressing matters. Everything with the halftime show had already been settled, and there were no more preparations you could physically do. Just a few emails and short meetings that could be done through the hotel WiFi.

Waking up that morning, you were surprised to not find Brock still in bed, but you should have guessed that. You climbed out of bed and made your way out of the bedroom to the lounge, stopping in the doorway. To your not surprise, Brock was sitting on one of the armchairs rewatching games with headphones on. He was just wearing a pair of sweatpants as he immersed himself in the film, not noticing you walk up behind him.

You stood behind the chair before running your hands across his shoulders as you wrapped your arms around them and leaned down, hiding your face in his neck. He did not turn his attention away from the screen but moved one of his arms up to hold your forearm as he continued watching, dropping his head a couple of times to kiss your knuckles. You placed small kisses on his neck and shoulders as you waited for the quarter to end and for his attention to be on you.

It did not take long since there were only a couple of minutes left, so when the quarter did end, he paused the recording and set the laptop on the coffee table. You walked around the chair and gently pulled Brock to stand with you. You wrapped your arms around his middle as he wrapped his around your shoulders and swayed you two back and forth. You ran your hands up and down his back, feeling the tense muscles before you pulled back to look up at him.

“You’re tense,” You whispered. “Stop psyching yourself out before the game even starts. That’s not gonna do you any good, babe.”

“I can’t really help it,” He chuckled under his breath. “Patrick Maholmes has done this before and he’s one of the best quarterbacks.”

“And how do you think he became one of the best?” You retorted sarcastically. “Oh yeah! Winning Super Bowls. Isn’t it crazy that you also happen to be in a Super Bowl right now, and you could win it? You did not get here through luck, Brock. You have a strong team behind you, and you’re a pretty good shot. It’s not some fluke that got you here. It was your hard work and dedication that got you in the Super Bowl. Don’t downgrade yourself like that.”

“You make that sound like a win already,” He laughed again as he left a kiss on your forehead. “We’ve still got a game to play.”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t sound like you’re mentally ready to face the Chiefs, Brock,” You sighed as you stopped swaying with him. You moved your hands to hold his face and make him look at you. “You’re never going to win if you’re already thinking like you’ve lost. Let me put it this way. Did Patrick get in the Super Bowl his first full year in the NFL?”

“No, he didn’t,” Brock admitted with a small smile.

“That’s right,” You praised. “And when he did get in the Super Bowl for the first time, did he come off of a UCL injury which also happened during his 8th game and the NFC Championship Game no less?”

“No, he didn’t,” Brock chuckled as his smile got bigger. “I think I get the point now.”

“I don’t think you do,” You joked with him. “I need you to understand your worth and your potential. This is your first full year, and you are playing against some of the best in the league. I need you to start thinking like a champ 'cause we’re doomed if you start thinking like you’ve lost it, and it hasn’t even started.”

“We’re doomed?” He asked in mock offense, “I think we’re forgetting who has the best offense in the league!”

“That’s the attitude I’m looking for, babe!” You cheered with him. You laughed as Brock jokingly walked around the room as if hyping himself up for the game that was scheduled for tomorrow. “Show them that this is where Mr. Irrelevant becomes relevant, and what better way to do that than to beat the reigning Super Bowl champs.”

Brock’s mood seemed to lift drastically the more he thought about showing the world that he could lead his team to a Super Bowl championship in just his first full year. He chuckled at the thought before walking up to you, lifting you, and spinning you around. When he finally set you back down, he pulled you into a messy kiss, clearly still running from the slight adrenaline. You chuckled against his lips as you returned the energy to the kiss and ran your fingers through his hair.

After a few minutes, he pulled away so you could both catch your breaths. You started chuckling lightly causing him to look at you questioninly. You loved one of your hands from his hair to hold his chin.

“We’re going to have a chill day, no film, no training. Just self-care and relaxation, just you and me,” You whispered, pulling him into one last kiss. “And don’t take offense to this, but you are going to go shave before you give me a burn. Then we’ll go get some breakfast.”

“I thought you said I would look good with a beard,” He chuckled, running his hand over the light stubble he had. “Though you said I would look hot.”

“That’s something we can experiment with during the off-season, champ, but right now, it’s irritating,” You laughed with him before patting his chest as you pushed away from him, “I’m also willing to bet we will do a lot more than kissing today, so go shave now.”

“Yes, ma’am,” He jokingly saluted as he took off toward the bathroom with a smile. Without a doubt, he was ready to show them that Mr. Irrelevant is relevant.

~~~~~

#brock purdy x reader #brock purdy #49ers #san francisco 49ers #brock x reader #nfl fan fic #nfl imagine #nfl #nfl football #nfl playoffs #super bowl lviii #national football league #bad268 #ship268 #thing268

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cruentaquevivere · 2 years

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Okay so I didn’t wanna jinx the lightning because they are my heart and I wanted the win and the attempt to three-peat.

But honestly, I’m not sure we deserved it. We definitely did not okay as hard as the Leafs most games. We had a lot of slow moving players and ineffective plays. The Leafs fought with their lives to try to break the curse. And maybe they deserved the win.

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angelwithdemonictendencies · 1 year

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and looking back at the scrapbooks i see the softness in your gaze; tell me how terrified you are of your longing, of me.

jd6 x reader: sometimes the nice guy doesn’t finish last.

(warnings: blasphemous filth, unprotected penetrative sex (m on f), oral sex (m on f, f on m), hair pulling, road head (safety hazard. don’t do this), not especially rough (consider my other work and what little significance this has), actually feelings (i would never l-bomb you guys. we’re not there. we will never be there), idk all my usual stuff. (please be warned, don’t read if you’re not 100% sure.)

(a/n: alright, thanks for waiting! just in time for stagecoach to be over! i love a good cowboy (i.e. not tz11), so jamie-lovers, this is for you. you’re right, petal is a dumb name, but i’m working with what i’ve got. i don’t know much about jd6, but i’m contemplating taking tz11 off of my blog entirely because of that absolutely traumatizing toddler temper tantrum he exhibited in the last game of the season, so if you like this, and jd6, let me know, as a spot is opening up on the masterlist (someone tell trev, he’ll be devastated, i’m sure). usually i don’t write m on f oral, because i like to write dialogue (can you tell?), but i felt an exception was necessary. you guys are the best, most generous and gentle people. thank you for continuing to be that way. what an insane playoff season we’ve had so far - hope you’re all faring well (or at least as well as you can be, bruins fans). even though they aren’t playing, go canucks. sending so, so, so much love to you and your snakes. i think of you often and fondly. see you soon, thank you for granting me no expectations.

to be honest, there wasn’t really much different about tonight. the same country music festival you went to every year. the same beer. the same songs and the same friends and the same light and promise in the air.

nothing was different, and yet everything was different, because this year you were here, and your ex-boyfriend wasn’t here with you. you had been together for the last three years. how much love and commitment could fit into three years? more than you thought possible.

but love can make a person complicit in their own demise, you had found. for too long, it had been all too easy to hide his controlling behavior under the guise of three years. but a month ago, you had finally walked away, for good this time.

so here you were, in that same touristy southern bar you and your friends always ended the night at, in your cowboy boots, tipsy on laughter more than alcohol, more free than you had been in a long time. dancing, feeling like nothing had ever been more right.

“another, petal?” a soft, fond voice asked from your right.

you turned, felt your face break into a smile, actually let out a dreamy sigh at the sight of his face, nodding towards your empty cup.

“jamie!” you gushed, looping your arms around his waist and grinning up at him. “missed you!”

he let out a laugh at your reaction, brought his own arms around you. you felt his plastic cup rest on the curve of your lower back as he peered down at you, flushed. “missed me? been with you all weekend, cowgirl.” his gaze turned soft. “been with you always.”

he was right. ever since you had first met, maybe two years ago, you and jamie had been inseparable. he was one of your best friends, and you were one of his.

he must have seen something in your eyes, because he lifted a hand to brush your hair from your face. “you okay?”

and you knew what he was asking. you knew he knew you inside-out, and that there very notably was someone who was not here, because for as long as he had known you, that person had been here. as long as he had known you, that person had been at your side.

but, honestly, that person hadn’t been on your mind much at all, except to note how much happier you were. how much lighter you felt, how you danced without worry, without keeping an eye on who he was talking to, who he would disappear to see. how you had reconnected with friends that he had insisted you pushed away, how parts of you were awakening from a slumber you hadn’t realized they had slipped into.

like, for example, the stirring in your stomach when your eyes met jamie’s. had that always been there? had you just subconsciously willed it into nonexistence? had his eyes always been so bright, so soft?

so you weren’t lying when you said, leaning further into the plane of his chest, “i’m perfect.”

his eyes swam with something warm as a laugh rumbled under your palms. “you have no idea, petal,” he said.

you tilted your head, confused. the singing in your stomach grew louder. had he always been so tall, so broad? had his arms around you always felt like this? like they belonged there?

before you could ask what he meant, though, he nodded down again. “want a refill?”

you shook your head, let a sly smile play on your lips. “i want to dance.”

his embrace loosened, if only slightly. “i won’t stop you.”

you let out a small laugh, shook your head again. “i want to dance with you, jamie.”

something different flashed across his eyes, something you could feel deep within yourself. something was about to be different, forever, and you wished so genuinely that he would let it be so. let it be as you deeply felt it should be. as it should have been, all this time.

your stomach jumped with pleasant anticipation as he set his cup down on the bar, then took yours out of your hands and did the same. were his hands shaking, only just?

he nodded towards the dance floor. “lead the way, petal.”

you smiled, big and bright, then took his cowboy hat off of his head and placed it atop yours before turning and walking towards the floor. you thought you heard him mumble fuck behind you as you walked, which only made you smile wider.

jamie rarely swore. in fact, in your years of listening to him, you had rarely heard anything out of his mouth that wasn’t completely sweet. but tonight was different. you had already established that.

a song with a swing in its beat was playing, a lazy, twangy drawl singing along. the kind of song that demanded to be shared, to be enjoyed. the kind of song for which the best harmony was laughter.

you turned and reached out your hands to him, swayed side to side and watched him as he took your hands. warm, so warm, rough, and big enough to fit your whole hand in his. had his hands always sparked a flame in your chest, one you were sure he could see in your eyes?

you pulled his arms back and forth, easing him into a rhythm, as he wasn’t a natural dancer. you swayed and moved your hips, let the music move you and him by translation.

his eyes caught on the top of your head and stayed there for a beat. “do you want it back?” you asked.

his gaze flooded with alarm. “what?” he shook his head. “no, petal, looks so much better on you.”

“good.” you grinned, let go for a moment to run a hand through his hair, messing it up in the way you liked. “i love your hair. want to see it.”

“yeah?” he asked, practically melting into your touch, his voice taking on the slightest hint of a rasp before you watched him shake any haze out of his eyes and voice.

pasting a friendly smile back on his face, he quickly picked you up at the waist and planted you back down, your boots resting on the tops of his. you peered up at him, found his smile a comfort. “let’s see what you’ve got, cowgirl,” he teased before leading you around the floor on top of his boots in a goofy, awkward, completely imperfect dance.

a goofy, awkward, completely imperfect dance made utterly perfect by laughter and smiles and him. all him. the music could have died away, and you swore you would have never known.

eventually you hopped down off of his boots, swung his arms in time with your hips to a different song. a song that had you yearning to bring that hazy, hot fog back into his eyes. one that had you yearning for him, closer.

and of course you noticed how his eyes never left you for even a second. how a heat seemed to build between you, an understanding. how long had he looked at you like that? how blind could you have been to miss it?

you bit your lip to hide a smile when he brought your arm up to give you a twirl, surprised you both when you stopped, leaned your back into his chest, brought his arms down to rest on your front.

this was different. this was dangerous. you could feel every breath he took, and you were sure he could hear your heart beat. but you pushed it further, bit your lips, pressed back deeper until some mixture of a whimper and a groan escaped him.

but you didn’t pull away, only relaxed back into him more completely, feigned obliviousness. “you okay?” you asked, looked up at him with concern in your eyes.

he saw right through you, as he always did. he was not impressed, maybe even worried. “don’t do this to me, petal,” he said, that perfect rasp curling from his mouth like rosy smoke. “don’t know if i can take it.”

but it took no effort at all to will innocence into your eyes as you tilted your neck back to look up at him, to melt him entirely. “please?” you asked, your voice like sugar.

the haze in his eyes was too thick to burn off, now. his smile was sly as he shook his head in disbelief. “mean, mean girl,” he said as he tightened his embrace around you. you felt his deep breath run through you. “i’ve been so good, petal. gonna ruin my track record.”

you furrowed your brow, spun yourself to face him, let his arms hug you against his front. “track record?”

he nodded, flushed pink across his nose. before you could think about it, you traced the tint with the tips of your fingers, felt his breath on you palm. he didn’t move under your touch. “going on two years now.”

you wrapped your arms around his neck. “two years of what, jamie?”

his gaze flickered around the room, almost embarrassed. “don’t make me say it, petal. you know.”

and you did, so you didn’t push him to clarify. you did know, now, weren’t sure how you could have missed it for so long. you had been so caught up in something wrong, someone wrong, that you hadn’t even considered the person who was so desperately right all along. had his gaze always been so soft, so drenched in sweetness, or had it always been so when you were looking away? how could you have been looking away?

you weren’t, now. you pressed yourself as close as you could into him, let the truth flood into your eyes. “you’ve been so good,” you whispered, watched him give a small nod in agreement.

your eyes traced the movement as he ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek. “but i’m gonna ruin your track record,” you said, not feeling the slightest bit sorry. you ran your nails along the back curve of his neck, felt a shiver start under your fingers. “and you’re gonna let me.”

he kept one arm around your back, lifted the other hand to lift his hat off of your head and lowered it again to rest on the small of your back. “and i’m gonna let you,” he conceded, but there was no regret, no sadness, no reluctance in his voice, only slow sweetness, complete consent in being an accomplice to what he believed might be his own destruction.

and so you pulled him down so your lips met his in a kiss that felt like piety after a lifetime of sin, like the smell of a perfume you used in high school, like a pinkie-promise, like everything you had been missing. a kiss that felt like him, and how lovely was that? to know what that felt like. what he felt like, like this.

and when you both pulled away, only just, enough to catch your breath, you found that heat in his eyes that you knew was reflected in yours. “more,” you murmured.

“anything you want, petal,” was his immediate reply, and you could have crumbled at how genuinely he meant it.

“now,” you pleaded, biting your lip, “need you.”

he groaned, drew circles on your lower back with his fingers. “anything but that.”

you pouted, to which he shook his head. “fuck, i won’t budge on this one. i’m not fucking you in a bar bathroom, petal. not when i’ve wanted you for as long as i have.”

it still felt sort of surreal to truly understand that. you didn’t let your gaze falter. “please, please, can we go home, then? it’s only five minutes to the hotel.” you knew he wouldn’t dare refuse you. “i need you, so bad, jamie.”

he was already leading you out of the bar, pulling his keys from his back pocket, opening your car door and helping you in before settling into the driver’s seat.

but when he put his arm behind your headrest to back the car out of the parking lot, you knew the five minutes to the hotel was five minutes too long. so, when he pulled out into the road, you turned to him, rested one hand on his thigh, the other right above the zipper of his jeans, felt your smile glow at his immediate whimper.

“fuck, petal, don’t,” he pleaded, tilting his hips up to meet your touch, breathing becoming ragged. “i’ll crash the goddamn car.”

you didn’t relent, palming him and relishing in his little sounds. “please let me suck you off, jamie? i’ll make you feel so good, promise.”

he groaned, his grip tensing on the steering wheel. you watched the discipline fade from his eyes, bit your lip as his voice took on the despair of a beggar. “please, petal,” he finally bit out. “please make me feel good.”

you smiled to yourself as you took him out of his jeans, spit into your hand, pumped him up and down, felt him hard and hot under your palm.

“oh, fuck,” he murmured, working to keep his eyes on the road. “fuck, petal, love your hands on me.”

you hummed. “love your dirty mouth, jamie,” you praised. “let me hear you, yeah?” before he could answer, you took him in your mouth and hollowed out your cheeks.

you felt one of his hands tangle into your hair, making you moan around him, forcing a matching moan from him as you began to bob your head up and down.

every breath of his sounded like a monumental effort as he tried his hardest to keep his eyes up, not closed and not on you. more than anything, he just wanted to look at you. his words came out like a prayer. “can’t do it,” he croaked. “feels too good, petal, fuck.”

you glowed under his praise, pressed yourself down further, let him hit the back of your throat as the car came to a stop. he pulled you up off of him, mumbled a thank fuck before capturing your lips again in a feverish kiss.

“finally,” you murmured against his lips, zipping him back up before rushing to get out of the car and into the hotel. he took your hand as he led you down the hall to his room, everything around you both an irrelevant blur.

when he finally shut the door behind him and pulled you to his chest to kiss you again, there was only him, and you, and nothing else. you clutched at his shirt with your fists, felt just how effective your mid-drive activity had been against your front as you both kicked off your boots and tugged at each others’ clothes.

“please let me taste you, petal,” he begged into your mouth, “been dreaming about it, about you.” you merely nodded and whimpered your consent, pulling off your jeans. how could you deny him this?

when the back of your legs hit the bed frame, you let yourself fall back onto it, pulled him down with you by his shirt. now that you had felt his lips on yours, you were reluctant to pull away even a bit.

but he pulled away first, shifted down to kneel in front of you, pushed your thighs apart and looked up at your through his long lashes. “you’re sure, petal?” he asked, suddenly hesitant. you nodded, but he persisted. “i can’t be a rebound for you. don’t think i’d survive it.” glossy vulnerability played across his gaze. “tell me you’ll keep me.”

you spoke without wavering, tangled a hand in his hair and forced his eyes to meet yours entirely. “i promise i’ll keep you, jamie. as long as you’ll let me.”

he shone under your words like a teacher’s pet given a golden star. “then let me take care of you, petal,” he whispered. “like you deserve.”

his grip on your thighs tightened as he lowered his head to flatten his tongue and lick a stripe through your folds, forcing a choked moan from your throat as you clutched harder at the soft waves of his hair, making his own grunt vibrate through you.

your moans spurred him on as he teased your clit with his tongue, at the same time bringing a finger up to slowly push in and out of you. you hummed in pleasure, your thighs tensing. “look so pretty on your knees for me, jamie,” you breathed out. “fuck, so good to me, hm?”

you saw the muscles in his back and shoulders clench as he whimpered, only stimulating your clit more as he added a finger and increased his pace. you bit out a breath, feeling yourself quickly getting close as you tugged at his hair in warning.

“shit, j, gonna make me cum,” you whined. “fuck, right there.”

he didn’t slow down, only increasing his speed in and out while sucking on your clit, sending you spiraling over the edge as fuzz crept into your vision like an exploding star, your thighs shaking underneath his strong grip.

slowly, you came down from your high, your heart swelling as you met his patient eyes, looking at you with nothing short of wonder.

“why’re you looking at me like that?” you asked, suddenly subconscious.

he shook his head with a slight laugh as he shifted up from his knees. “can’t believe that this isn’t a dream,” he admitted, now only a breath apart, “fuck, can’t believe how lucky i am.”

you grinned, captured his swollen lips in another kiss that you hoped told him that you felt the same. he pushed his hips against you, and you smiled into his mouth at the stiff length against you. “need you inside me, jamie,” you whispered.

“petal wants even more?” he said. you nodded, unzipped him again. “then that’s what petal will get,” he conceded, tugging you towards him by the outside of your thighs, laying you flat on your back, slowly dragging his cock back and forth through your folds.

you pouted, wrapped your hand around his forearm. “please, need you now, j. don’t tease me.”

he immediately pushed into you, slowly and fully, the sound that escaped him a mix between a groan and a whine. you squinted at the stretch, the fullness, this feeling of him that made the two of you one.

“you feel like a dream, petal,” he grunted, keeping still for a second longer as if to remember this moment forever. “like a fucking dream.”

“please move, j,” you pleaded, tracing your nails along the underside of his forearm. “so big, please, fuck me.”

“like you’re made for me,” he bit out like a revelation, slowly beginning a pace in and out of you. “fuck, so wet for me. feels so perfect.”

you whimpered as the stretch expanded, as the feeling of him overwhelmed all of your senses.

“open your eyes, petal,” he begged, running his thumb back and forth across your clit, making you cry out from overstimulation. “look at me, yeah? want to see you.”

and you couldn’t say no to him even if you wanted to, not like this, not when he was here, when he was everything, everywhere.

he moaned when your eyes caught on his, filled with longing, finally recognized, but never satiated. he fucked into you harder, but not faster, wanting you to feel him as deep as possible, so deep that you’d think of him tomorrow.

as if you’d go a day without thinking of him.

he continued to tease your clit, making your thighs spasm in short spurts as you clenched impossibly hard around him, impossibly warm, entirely you.

“oh fuck, petal, you gonna cum again for me?” he asked, bringing his other hand to place pleasant pressure on your lower stomach. you whined in response, your eyes rolling back at the sensation.

“please cum with me,” he said, “want to feel you cum on my cock. fuck, wanted to feel you for so long, petal. cum for me, hm?”

and at his words, you did as told, clenching tight and gushing around him, triggering his own orgasm. he whimpered as he collapsed on top of you, both of your bodies shiny with effort and pleasure.

you let your breaths gather in his collarbone as his landed in your hair, messy and beautiful, as he lifted off of you and pulled you into his side, where you belonged. you let your breathing do the talking as you felt yourself sparkle with satisfaction, taking in how beautiful he looked.

“you’re so beautiful,” you finally murmured into his chest.

he shook in a low laugh. “thank you, petal.”

“i’m serious,” you said. “no one tells you enough.”

he pulled back slightly, searched your eyes, pushed a lock of hair from your damp face. “i don’t need anyone else to tell me,” he said. “only you.”

you pressed your lips to his in a chaste kiss before sobering again. “what does this mean?”

he continued to play with your hair, twisting it around his fingers as you analyzed his rosy face. he let out a breath. “you know i want as much of you as you’ll let me have.”

“all of it. everything,” you said without hesitation, but he shook his head.

“no,” he said, “not everything.” at your look of confusion, the corner of his mouth turned up and he pulled you impossibly close. “need you to save some just for you, petal. you need some of you for yourself.”

no one had ever said that to you before. no one had ever treated you so gently.

and you didn’t have any words, and he didn’t need any words, so you just took his hand in yours, brought it to your lips, and kissed the top of it.

a secret message that both of you understood, perfectly.

fin.

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