#winnipeg jets smut | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

homestylehughes · 1 month

Text

wanna bet?

quinn hughes x fem!reader

summray: you make a bet with quinn, which of you will win?

wc: 2.9K

warnings: nsfw 18+ smut, unprotected sex, p in v (practice safe sex guys!), oral fem receiving, spitting, cussing, dirty talk. there's some plot but it's mostly smut.

an: OH BOYYYYYY... i'm a little nervous to post this... GULP. it's my first time writing smut, so hopefully you guys all enjoy!! it took me like 4 hours LOL! writing smut is hard guys... thank you to all of my smut writing warriors. ALSO i tried my hand at making a header for my work, i kinda like it?? i cant tell if i ate or not..LMFAO. anyways im done yapping. like and reblog if you like, as always much love as always.

happy reading <3

“We should make a bet.” I say to Quinn as we’re getting ready for a home game between the Canucks and Winnipeg Jets.

He looks at me confusingly as he finishes tying his tie in the mirror. “What kind of bet are we talking about?” he mutters back. “I don't know, something spicy and fun '' I say, as I make my way over to him to fix his crooked tie.

“Hm..i like the sound of that” quinn says, as he rests his hands on my waist pulling me closer to his body. I chuckle at his sudden change in interest, finally fixing his tie, I rake my eyes over his face.

“I have an idea,” I say as our eyes remain locked, “and what's that baby?” Quinn says, I can feel his gaze now locked on my lips.

“If you score tonight, i'll let you do whatever you want to me.'' I say, as I slowly trace my hands around his neck to play with his hair, leaning my body further into his. “if you don't score, i get to do whatever i want to you, but you can't touch.”

I can feel quinns breath hitch in his throat, as I press myself completely against his front, planting soft kisses down his neck and across his jaw. His hands moving from my waist, to my ass, griping is hard and pulling me even tighter against him.

Quinn tips his head down to try and connect our lips together, I quickly move my head to avoid his kiss. “How do those conditions sound?” I say, looking at quinns now flushed state.

“They sound really good, baby, they would sound even better if you'd let me kiss you.” he says, slowly moving our faces closer together.

I slowly shake my head no, as I pull myself apart from him. “ I have to finish getting ready, and so do you.” I say, while looking at a wide eyed, flustered quinn.

“You actually hate me, don't you?” Quinn says, looking at me, still wide eyed. “no i don't, i just like making you suffer.'' I grin back at him.

“So are we shaking on this?” Quinn says, finally collecting himself. Without a word I held my hand out to him, waiting for him to grasp it. Our eyes are locked, as Quinn pulls his arm forward, his hand finally finding mine, pulling it into a firm handshake. “you're on Hughes,” I said to him. “No you're on, I'm scoring tonight, just for you baby '' Quinn says grinning at me like a kid in a candy store.

I step forward and press a sweet kiss on his lips, pulling away before he has the chance to deepen it, “may the best man win” i say before turning away from him, to finish getting ready.

I'm nervous, not for the game, but for tonight. My nerves are getting the best of me as I sit in the stands waiting for the puck to drop. My eyes follow Quinn as they warm up on the ice.

I'm starting to think I'm a dumbass for even betting on this. Quinn is super competitive, he's not going to let me win, but damn do I want to win.

Pushing those thoughts to the back of my head, I settle in my seat, gaze locked on ice as the first whistle signaling the game has begun goes off.

This is going to be a long game, a long night, I think to myself.

The Canucks win in a shutout, 5-0. I couldn't be more proud of them as they skate off the ice. Most importantly I couldn't be more proud of myself for finally winning a bet against quinn.

They played an incredible game tonight, with 5 amazing goals, not none of those coming from quinn. I couldn't help but secretly be happy that he didn't score.

I leave the stands and make my way towards the locker room, waiting for Quinn to finish up with getting ready and press interviews. Around 45 minutes later, I see Quinn make his way towards me. I open my arms to him, grasping him in a hug, “good game baby” I say to him as he pulls away, whispering a small “thank you” in my direction.

We start to make our way to the parking lot, silence surrounds us, it starts to make me nervous. “Any updates on Thatcher?” I ask, who went to the locker room during the second period, with an injury. “We don't know too much right now, hopefully we get some updates tomorrow morning on his status.'' Quinn says as he throws his bags in the back seat of the car, before sliding over to open the passenger door for me.

“Hopefully he’s okay, I'm sure he is. He's a tough guy, keep me updated when you get any information." I say to Quinn, as he's pulling out of the parking lot. “I will.” he says shortly. I frown at his shortness, in the conversation.

“Are you okay?” i ask him quietly, “yeah, im okay.” he replies back quickly. Not wanting to push, I decided that's a good enough answer, keeping my gaze locked on my lap the whole way home.

The car comes to a stop, signaling that we made home. I quickly got out of the car, wanting to escape the tension that was starting to suffocate me. Unlocking the door quickly, speeding my way upstairs to the bathroom, not even looking back to see if Quinn was behind me.

Closing the bathroom door quickly, I take a deep breath to regain my thoughts. Is Quinn mad at me? Is he upset over Demko? Upset that I won the bet? Upset that he didn't score? I don't want him to be upset with me, especially over this, this was supposed to be hot and cute and now i feel like it's blown up in my face. A bet that I don't even care about at this point.

5 minutes later, after I've calmed myself down. I see Quinn on the edge of the bed, when I open the bathroom door. Taking another deep breath, I start to make my way across our bedroom to the closet. As I'm beginning to pass the bed where Quinn sits, I feel him grab my leg, pulling me back towards him.

My nerves are rising again. I'm now in between Quinn's legs, looking down at my feet as I wait for him to say something. I feel his hands run up my thighs, gripping them with a slight pressure. Trailing them higher on my body, over the Hughes jersey that covers my upper half. Quinns hands, finding their home on my waist, for the second time today.

“Baby, look at me,” Quinn says, gently but with authority. I slowly lift my head up to lock my eyes to his. “I think we have a bet to take care of.” he says to me, my brain doesn't even register what he just said to me, before i start speaking. “are you mad at me? I feel like you're mad at me. We don't have to do this, it's just a bet it doesn't really matter to me Quinn. I thought this was a good idea earlier but now i dont think it's a good idea. I know you're definitely mad at-”

I'm quickly cut off by the feeling of quinns lips on mine. Taking me by surprise it takes my body a few seconds to respond. Once I do, my hands are instantly finding his hair, as Quinn pulls me down so I'm now straddling his lap, our kiss getting more intense by the second.

I began to grind myself on his bulge that I felt growing beneath me. Quinn begins painting beneath me, his mouth opening enough for me to slide my tongue into his mouth, pulling myself into him. Our mouths began to fight for dominance. Our bodies move against each other at a faster rate. Quinns hands pushed my waist hard against his, causing me to moan into his mouth.

Quinn pulls back suddenly, causing me to wine more. “Does it look like I'm upset with you baby?” he asks me as he starts to suck on my neck leaving kisses in his wake, causing me to arch my back closer into his mouth. Pulling away from my neck, looking at each other as we’re both panting. “I was acting like a sore loser” quinns says while rubbing slow circles on my thigh, eyes still locked with mine. “I don't like losing, and I really don't like not being able to have my way with you, not being able to touch you.” he breathes out at me. I'm struggling to find my words while he's looking at me like that.

“Quinn. I don't care about this stupid bet anymore, I want you now." I don't even wait for him to respond to me before I'm crushing our lips back together. The kiss is hot, with need and want. Our teeth and tongues clashing together.

I find the will to pull myself off Quinn, now standing in front of him. Without saying anything, I began to peel off my clothes. Pulling off the jersey, leaving me in a black lacy bra, and my jeans. Quickly moving my hands to my jeans, unbuttoning them quickly, pulling them down with my underwear, kicking them off my feet. Reaching behind me and unclasping my bra. Leaving me completely bare in front of Quinn.

“I want you naked, now.” I say to Quinn, who moves in supersonic speed pulling off his clothes and throwing them somewhere behind me.

“Fuck baby.'' Quinn says as he's pulling me into him again. “You look so hot right now, all for me too.” tracing his hands down my bare sides, causing my skin to erupt in goosebumps in his wake.

Leaning forward he begins to press kisses against my stomach making his way down to my pussy, my breath begins to hitch, I'm afraid my legs are going to buckle beneath me. “Can I taste you baby? I want to taste your sweet pussy, haven't in so long.” he says, as he slowly pulls my thighs apart. I can't find it within me to stop him, I don't care about the bet anymore. I need him to do something. “Yes please” I told him. He doesn't need to be told twice.

Quinn quickly throws me down on the bed, my body making a small thud as it hits the bed. Quinn immediately pulled my thighs apart so he could rest between them.

I'm knocked out of my daze, as I feel Quinn start to press kisses on the inside of my thighs, my breath is beginning to quicken again. “Look at me baby” he says, as he lifts his head to reach my eyes.

I crane my neck to meet his gaze. Getting a good look at him, pupils blown with lust, his lips swollen and red, hair a mess, seeing him in this state turns me on even more.

“Please Quinn,” I yelled out to him, shifting my body closer to his face. I need something, anything. ‘So impatient” Quinn chuckles, as he leans in closer to my pussy, so close I can feel his breath fan on my folds, causing me to slowly moan. “Keep your eyes on mine or I will stop. Got it?” he roughly says to me, nodding my head yes quickly. “Words baby” he says, “yes, yes quinn” i say urgently.

Before I know it his face is diving into my cunt, his tongue instantly finding my clit, making arch my back into him. “Fuck” i say in a strangled moan, as my hands find their way to quinns hair, pushing his face deeper in my cunt.

His tongue is lapping me up like a grown man starving, his hands are pushing my legs so hard and so far apart it almost hurts, but I can't find it inside me to care. His pace began to quicken, pushing his tongue in and out of my cunt. “Who got you this wet baby?” he mumbles into my heart. “You! Fuck right there baby” i moan out, as quinn slowly pushes 2 fingers in.

The pressure is beginning to build in my stomach, between quinn fingering me and lapping and sucking on my clit is enough to push me over the edge. “Harder, faster, fuck quinn.'' I managed to push out, his actions now becoming faster and more aggressive than before.

Before I realize, my peak is coming. My hips grinding themselves on quinns face, desperate to cum. “That's it baby, there you go.” he says, as i begin to push myself on his fingers deep inside of me. Moving his thumb to now, rub my clit at a fast rate. “fuck quinn im coming” i push my head flat against the pillow as my body archs into him. “Fuck, don't stop. Quinn please don't stop, please please” i began to blubber out as i began to cum all over his fingers. Continuing to grind myself against him, taking anything that he’ll give me.

Quinns hands keep my thighs from closing shut and he removes his fingers and replaces them with his tongue. Riding me through the last of my orgasm. My moans and pants are filling the room, my breath leaving my lungs as I finally come down from my orgasm.

Quinn slowly pulled his face away from my heat. “That was the hottest thing, ive never seen, fuck” he says before making his way on top of me, his lips finding mine.

Wrapping my arms around his neck pulling his chest to mine. Our bodies rocking together, “quinn” i say breathless, as his tongue is attacking my neck, moving his mouth lower down my body. Grasping my left nipple in his mouth, gently biting it, then releasing it into his mouth, wrapping his hot tongue around it. The action causes me to moan loudly, pushing my already close body even closer, if that's even possible.

As good as his assault on my boobs feels, I need him inside of me now. “Quinn” I say firmer this time. Pulling his face to mine, “ i need you to fuck me now, please now” i say panting in his face.

That seems to flip a switch inside of quinn, he's quickly lining up his cock, with my entrance, slowly pushing himself into me. Quinn goes as he fully enters me, our eyes locking for a quick moment before I lift my head to bring myself to his lips. This kiss is different from the others, love and passion filled, a kiss that isn't rushed. “Can I move baby?” quinn asks from above me, “yes please fuck me” i pant back into his mouth, bringing our lips back together again.

Quinns hips quickly snapping against mine, pulling out fullying before pushing himself back into me. The quick motion caused the both of us to moan loudly, “harder” I moan out to him. “You want me to fuck you harder baby?” Quinn says back to me. To answer his question I push my hips up to meet his thrusts, quinn moves one of his hands from my waist to my right leg, and pushes it above his shoulder. the new angle, hitting a depth i didn't know was even possible. Fucking me at a pace so good, that i didnt want him to stop.

The sound of groans, moans and our skin meeting and slapping together fills our room, our bodies slick with sweat. My eyes flutter open meeting quinns eyes, as he fucks me so deep and so good, my mouth is hung open but no words are coming out.

Grabbing my jaws he leans down and spits into my mouth “swallow” he orders, his eyes still locked with mine. I do as he says, swallowing every last bit.

“Fuck you’re so hot” quinn moans at me, as he continues to fuck me. “More more '' I moan loudly at him, Quinn then pushes both of my legs on his shoulders. Fucking me so deep i can feel him in my stomach.

“Im gonna cum, baby” Quinn breathes in my ear, his face dropping to my neck as he picks up his pace. I feel the familiar burn build up in my stomach again. “Don't stop, im almost there please dont stop” i wine at him urging him to go even faster.

Grabbing our headboard, using more strength to push himself harder into me. One singular snap of his hips causes me to cum. “Quinn quinn, im coming fuck fuck fuck” i moan loudly. “come for me baby fuck” quinn says as he continues to fuck me though my orgasm.

“Im cumming” he sputters out, his lips finding mine. Our bodies move together as we’re coming down from our highs.

My legs slowly come down from his shoulders, Quinn slowly pulling out of me, wincing as he does. Collapsing beside me, our chests falling and rising together, pants fill the room still. I turn my body to his hand tracing his chest and neck. Pushing his hair that's fallen in his face back. Quinns arms circled around my waist pulling me closer to him.

“So much for the bet huh?” he says while laughing, pulling me in for another kiss.

#nhl fanfiction #nhl hockey #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #nhl fic #quinn hughes smut #vancover canucks #hockey smut

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darkeralmond · 10 months

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can you do more rutger mcgroarty smut?? your last one was so good

THANK U SO MUCH!! ALSO THANKS FOR THE REQUEST!! I LOVE U

Not So Fake

Rutger Mcgroarty x fem! Reader

synopsis: you and rutger started fake dating to make your exes jealous. when rutger tries to “sell the part” it leads to more in his bedroom

warnings: 18+, smut, hickeys, rough kissing, fingering, unprotected sex, p in v, f! receiving, after care

word count: 2k

a/n: THANK U GUYS SO MUCH FOR 300 FOLLOWERS!! I LOVE RUTGER SO MUCH! i’m gonna miss him when he goes to the winnipeg nets tho 😞😞

masterlist | request info

It all started out with a deal to make both your exes jealous. You approached Rutger with the idea a while back at a Christmas party. “I’ll pay you $50 a month to be my fake boyfriend to make my ex-boyfriend jealous,” you confidded.

He cocked his head to the side with his eyebrows furrowed, “$50 for that? Dude, I’ll do that for free. I need to make my ex-girlfriend jealous too.” You were shocked with how open he was to the idea of fake dating you. You couldn’t deny that it caused your heart to skip a beat.

You had been fake-dating Rutger for a month or two now and your plan was working. Your ex started reaching out to you more and more, asking questions about how you met Rutger and why you even started dating him.

Even though it’s what you wanted, the idea of making him jealous slowly dissolved. You liked spending time with Rutger way more than you ever did with your ex, and it seemed like he started focusing on his ex-girlfriend less and less.

Now here you two were at a small hockey gathering with a couple of the other players and their partners. You, Rutger, and Gavin were squeezed together on a pretty small couch. It was obvious that the couch wasn’t meant to fit 3 people. On the other couch sat Ethan, his girlfriend, and another girl who you weren’t familiar with.

Everyone was talking while occasionally taking sips from their cups. You would nod your head and flash smiles, but you couldn’t even concentrate on the conversation they were having.

Due to the limited space on the couch, that meant your thigh and Rutger’s thigh were touching the entire time. The feeling of his warm skin against yours was super distracting.

What made it worse was that Ethan had to put the spotlight on you and Rutger, of course. “So, Rutger,” he said while grinning from ear to ear. “What’re you gonna do with Y/N when you have to go off to the Jets?”

Rutger glanced over at you and smiled. “We’ll do long distance. Then, she can come up and visit or I can go there.” He then looked back at his friends before adding, “Maybe she can move in with me when she’s done with college.” He placed his hand on your inner thigh.

Your cheeks instantly turned bright red at the contact, causing you to stare at him with a bug-eyed expression. He looked back at you then nodded his head to go along with whatever he was doing.

You then snapped back to the conversation and looked at Ethan. “Yeah! That’s pretty much the plan!” you nervously giggled before shooting a glare to Rutger. Luckily, he was the only one who saw the stink eye you gave him.

He just smirked in response and took a sip of his drink. He then went back to the conversation like it this normal, steering the topic away from your “relationship”.

Your mind went fuzzy as the tip of your ears flushed red. Your mind couldn’t comprehend what was happening right now. He didn’t have to put his hand on your thigh, however he was for some reason. And for some reason, it was seriously turning you on.

You slammed his bedroom door shut, turning to him with your finger pointed right at him. “What was that?!” you fumed.

He leaned against the wall next to the door and crossed his arms. “What’re you talking about?” he cooed. He wasn’t taking this seriously. It made your blood boil even more.

“Your hand. My thigh. What was that?!” You needed answers. Not just for why he did it, but for why you enjoyed it so much.

“I was just trying to sell it,” he answered, still leaning against the wall with a sly grin. You rolled your eyes which led him to chuckle. “Don’t act like you didn’t like it. I saw you blushing.”

You scoffed, “I was not blushing!”

“Admit it,” he said, pushing himself off the wall as he started approaching you. You took a couple steps back before your back hit the wall. You looked back and saw the white wall before looking back and seeing him right in front of you.

His face was only inches away from yours, his hand rested on the wall right above your shoulder. “You like me.” Your tongue twisted, not able to get a single word out.

Your face felt like it was on fire, your breaths hitching. “See?” he teased. “Let’s just get rid of this growing tension between us and finally do something about it.”

“Like what?” You managed to ask that question, but everything else was blank. You had a feeling of what he was going to say, but of course he said something way out of left field.

“Like fucking,” he said. “Right here, right now.” When there were people downstairs? It wasn’t like a full blown frat party, people were able to hear you two from his room.

Your expression was haunted as you stuttered, “What if someone hears us?” Which meant you weren’t opposed to the idea. The answer no didn’t even cross your mind.

You glanced over at the lock on his door, seeing that it was still unlocked. His hand loomed under your chin, directing your gaze back to him.

His eyes darted down to your lips before meeting your gaze again. “Then we’ll just have to be quiet,” he said in a low voice. “Can you do that, sweetheart?”

Your chest rose and fell with your rapid breaths, you nodded your head quickly. “I can,” you answered.

“Good,” he chuckled before leaning in, placing his lips on yours. Your eyes shut at the sudden contact while you wrapped your arms around his neck.

His lips were soft and his breath tasted like beer. He pulled his hand away from beneath your chin and placed them both on your waist, pulling you closer to him desperately.

Before you knew it, he was slipping his tongue into your mouth. You let him do so, your body pressed against him. Your head tilted to the side in order to give him easier access to your lips. A small moan escaped your lips and into his mouth while you two made out.

You pulled away from him, attempting to catch your breath. The atmosphere around you was full of sexual tension and lust. You never realized how much you craved his body up until this moment.

You unravel your arms and place your hand on his chest. You looked down at the nice button up he was wearing, now wanting it off of him. You began undoing the buttons to his shirt while he chuckled.

You finished unbuttoning his shirt and helped him slide it off before throwing it across the room. You pulled off your shirt and tossed it to the same side of the room, now revealing your bralette.

Rutger stared hungrily at you and ran his hands up your back to unclasp your bra. You slipped it off, now completely exposing yourself to him. A smile grew on his face as he brought his hands to your breasts, cupping them.

You let out a gasp as you felt his cold fingers against your warm body. Your moans became louder while he kneaded them with his palms. He pulled one hand away and brought a finger up to his lips, signaling you to be quieter.

He gently kissed your jawline and traveled down to your collarbone while simultaneously massaging your breast. The sensations he gave you started spreading throughout your body. You were melting under his kisses and touch. All you could think was that this felt amazing.

You nibbled on your bottom lip, attempting to hold back any loud moans that were desperate to escape. He pulled his hands away from your body, bringing one of them down to your lower body.

His hand slivered down the hem of your skirt and into your panties. You gasped at the feeling, his mouth still marking your neck with hickeys.

His fingers moved down to your clit, playing with it by circling your sensitive bead. A quiet moan escaped your lips, your head hitting the wall behind you. It felt absolutely incredible that his hand was teasing you.

“Hmmm. Are you wet for me?” He sounded amused. “Such a needy girl.” His fingertips kept torturing your clit, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

Your teeth sunk deeper into your bottom lip as you tried to ignore the tingling sensation that erupted through your body. He’s teasing, you thought.

You knew this wasn’t enough to make you cum and so did he, because after a few seconds, he stopped messing with your clit and stuck two fingers inside your wet cunt. His fingers curled inside you, feeling the warm wetness around his fingers.

You grabbed onto his hips in order to keep yourself sturdy against the wall. “Rutger,” you whimpered, your nails clawing into his skin. “Just like that!” This was too much stimulation for you but you still wanted more.

He pulled away and pulled his fingers out of you causing you to whine. You were right at your peak and of course he had to torture you more. You pouted your bottom lip, “Why did you stop?”

“I don’t want you to cum yet,” he simply stated. “Now take off your skirt and panties and lay down on the bed, pretty girl.” He took off his shorts, revealing the erection that strained against the fabric of his boxers.

“Please, baby?” His tone was husky, almost begging. You kicked off your shoes before taking off your skirt and panties before laying down on the bed.

He pulled down his boxers and locked the door before making his way over to you. He grabbed your hips and pulled you closer to him. He already knew that you were on the pill since you were telling him stories about you and your ex beforehand.

With that, he aligned himself with your dripping wet entrance before slowly entering you. Your back arched as his length pushed through your tight walls.

He slowly rocked his hips back and forth, thrusting into you. You moaned out, “Fuck me. Make me come!” With a nod, he held onto your hips and he thrusted into you harder. You let out a small cry at how good it felt. “Holy, fuck! Rutger!”

“Shhh,” he shushed before letting his thrusts become faster. The struggle you had to stay quiet only fueled his ego and arousal even more.

Goosebumps broke out onto your arms as your mind became clouded. “Rutger, I’m gonna cum!” you cried.

He let out a groan and pulled your hips up slightly, making it easier for him. “You fucking better, Y/N. Do it for me, baby.”

Your orgasm crashed upon you and you threw your head back as your release poured out of your body. Your back arched as you did this, your eyes squeezing shut. Finally, your tense muscles loosened as you fell back onto the breath while breathing heavily.

“Such a good girl,” he mumbled as he pumped into you one last time. He then pulled out of you, his dick completely covered in a mixture of both your and his cum.

He took a couple deep breaths, running his fingers through his hair. “Holy, shit.” He went over to his dresser and grabbed a pair of tissues, wiping the juices off his dick. “You need some?” He handed the tissues to you while he crawled on the bed next to you.

“Yes please,” you answered before you wiped your wet cunt. “That was...” You couldn’t even describe how amazing it felt.

Rutger smiled and got under the blanket with you. “That was perfect,” he said. You threw away the tissues in the trash can near his bed, then got under the covers.

He pulled you close to his body and spooned you. You giggled as he placed a lazy kiss on the side of your neck.

You giggled at the feeling of his wet kiss. “I guess really we’re together now, huh?” you mumbled in a low voice.

He chuckled, “I guess so.” He buried his face in the crook of your neck once again, leaving you smiling happily.

#rutger mcgroarty #rutger mcgroarty x reader #rutger mcgroarty smut #rutger mcgroarty x y/n #umich hockey #umich hockey x reader

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wyattjohnston · 3 months

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and all 34 fics have been posted! thank you so, so much to everybody who signed up, and to everybody who posted a fic. these don't go anywhere without the people who participate, so i'm eternally grateful.

i highly suggest that you read all the below fics, even for the players you might otherwise not. a great deal of time, effort and pride have gone into all of these. and remember to reblog the fic when you're done.

please respect all warnings at the beginning of fics. if a fic has been marked as smut or 18+ and you are younger than, do the right thing and do not read it.

if you're interested in a summer fic exchange, check back in throughout may to see what i'm up to :)

THE WINTER FIC EXCHANGE 2k24 MASTERLIST

Carolina Hurricanes

Andrei Svechnikov

With Love, And Forever Yours by @callsign-denmark for @ teokka

Frederik Andersen

Little Do You Know by @knifeshoeboys for @ mp0625

Teuvo Teräväinen

Jouluiloa by @mp0625 for @ callsign-denmark

Chicago Hawks

Anthony Beauvillier

tell me who i run to (if not you) by @offside-the-lines for @ bqstqnbruin

Dallas Stars

Tyler Seguin

champagne buzz down to my toes by @thewintersoldier for @ senditcolton

Detroit Red Wings

Alex Lyon

in love love by @jackhues by @ 2manytabsopen

JT Compher

bad at love by @matthewtkachuk for @ comphy-and-cozy

Florida Panthers

Matthew Tkachuk

Back to You by @tkwrites for @ luvsherleafs

My Sweet Girl by @selfindulgentpoorlywritten for @ matthewtkachuk

Montreal Canadiens

Cole Caufield

All This Time by @lifeofpriya for @ prettytoxicrevolver

New Jersey Devils

Jack Hughes

and all at once, you're all i want (i'll never let you go) by @writingonleaves for @ wildrangers

And he feels like home by @gravestrain for @ one-night-story

I Don't Know You, But I Would Love to Meet You by @one-night-story for @ writingonleaves

I Found by @teokka for @ sydnikov

John Marino

Odds were against us by @ladylooch for @ pcttymcrlecu

Nico Hischier

big, big plans by @tonyspep for @ kurlyteuvo

I'm Still Glad I Met You by @senditcolton for @ offside-the-lines

the ink on your skin by @sydnikov for @ selfindulgentpoorlywritten

Timo Meier

What My World Spins Around by @cellythefloshie for @ ladylooch

New York Islanders

Mat Barzal

dreams of someone by @pcttymcrlecu for @ fallinallincurls

love it if we made it by @comphy-and-cozy for @ thewintersoldier

Work Husband by @2manytabsopen for @ twopeoplecanchange

Ottawa Senators

Jakob Chychrun

bet all i have on that furrowed brow by @thomasschabot for @ wyattjohnston

Thomas Chabot

Head & Heart by @kurlyteuvo for @ thomasschabot

Seattle Kraken

Philipp Grubauer

I never thought by @laurenairay for @ knifeshoesboys

Toronto Maple Leafs

Auston Matthews

4 + 1 by @prettytoxicrevolver for @ tonyspep

William Nylander

Guilty by @typical-simplelove for @ lifeofpriya

The Planets and the Fates and All the Stars Aligned by @wildrangers for @ jackhues

Vancouver Canucks

Brock Boeser

Hotel Room by @lam-ila for @ gravestrain

in picture frames, in all my dreams, you’re the one i want by @fallinallincurls for @ laurenairay

Elias Pettersson

Lately you’ve been on my mind by @laurenairay for @ typical-simplelove

Quinn Hughes

Anything to Make it Right by @kurlyteuvo for @ lam-ila

Mistletoe Confession by @sc0tters for @ tkwrites

The Party's Over, Go Home by @bqstqnbruin for @ sc0tters

Winnipeg Jets

Adam Lowry

breaking all my rules by @wyattjohnston for @ cellythefloshie

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#the winter fic exchange 2k24 #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #hockey fic #exchange masterlist

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cellythefloshie · 29 days

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;; The Signing

Summary: Morgan struggles to forget about Emmy, a fan he met at a meet and greet. And when he the opportunity presents itself, Morgan doesn't shy away from taking his shot. Kinks & TW: mild sexual fantasies about a stranger, hosiery, first kiss, dry humping, unprotected sex, fingering, wall sex, creampie. A/N: I think this is only my second time writing male POV smut so be gentle with me. I'm tired so I'm not editing this well, and this has been sitting in my drafts for MONTHS so no I'm not waiting any longer to share this with you. Shout out to @hockeyboysimagines who planted this seed of self indulgence and has supported me as I ran with it. I know Barron isn't a well known/well loved guy in this community but fuck it, this fic has been so much fun to write. Morgan and Emmy 4 Ever. About the OC: Emmy, brunette with brown eyes... that's about it. If I took the time to really develop her, this would be a full on novel. Word Count: 13k+

When you played hockey, even just as a child, you were part of something bigger than yourself. There was a greater community, one that would always stand by you and you by them through victory and loss, and things greater than the game of hockey itself. Morgan Barron had experienced that first hand out on the ice during the many themed nights from when the New York Rangers would support First Responders to the Winnipeg Jets as they supported the cultural diversity of their great city, and everything in between. And he had felt it all again after he had taken a skate blade to the face during the Jets' appearance in the Stanley Cup Playoffs. The community had so quickly rallied around him, and in turn, giving back and getting out into the community was one of Barron’s favorite things to do during his downtime during the season.

Some of his outings included visiting the children’s hospital with his teammates, others he spent alone - like the night he spent in a local sports collectible shop for a meet and greet with the fans, the community.

The parking lot was full, and the overflow of parking sprawled up the length of the residential street. In the darkness, lined along the street curb, was the dim glow of headlights. One after the next, as each person wanting to meet him waited in the warmth of their cars instead of lining up in the Winnipeg chill caught somewhere between fall and winter.

There was no snow on the ground yet, but the air was cold. And the roads were uneven, ridden with potholes, even as he turned into the parking lot. It rocked him in the seat of his truck as he pulled into the one spot that had been reserved for him. Sliding out of the cab, he took in a shark inhale, the cold hair harsh on his lungs, but the jog to the front door was brief. Inside, the little staff they had set up a table and chair for him and once he sat in it, his jacket draped over the back of it, his night began.

One by one, Morgan met the fans. He loved it, but a part of him almost felt bad. Chances were, at the end of the night, he would remember a handful of their faces and one or two of their stories as they told them to him. While to them, meeting him would be a story on their social media channels at the very least. The things he signed would be added to one collection, or another. But to him, each conversation blurred into the next.

Some asked about his scar, others pointed out just how nice it had healed. Then came those who commented on his game and wished him luck for the rest of the season. And with every single one of them, Morgan gave them all of his effort and undivided attention. That was all but one.

Morgan has been in the middle of personalizing an autograph when he heard the door chime. Through the first fifty or more meet and greets, it had been nothing more than background noise as fans came and went. But for some reason, he had decided to look up as his silver Sharpie marker finished off the now too bold 36.

Through the door came a young woman, no more than five years older than her, maybe even five years less. It was hard to tell these days, especially when someone was alone. If you were lucky, you would be able to guess just by how she interacted with her friends. But he had a mere few seconds to stare at her between signings. She stood just inside the door, her hand pulling her ticket out of her pocket to show her placement in line. And while that was the first thing she did, the first thing Morgan noticed was her smile. It was one that was almost too perfect, one that could only come from wearing braces. And her pale face was framed by lone, brunette curls that almost looked auburn in the fluorescent light. They may have even hung down into her eyes if it weren’t for the sunglasses pushed up onto the top of her head, more of an accessory than a necessity with the sun having set not long after the traditional workday had ended.

Morgan tore his eyes from her when there was a shuffle of footsteps at his side. The next fan had finished paying for their small pile of photos to be signed, and the hockey cards that rested on top of them. He greeted them with a smile and fell into the same casual conversation he had all night.

He did the same with the next, who had a single number from the 3 and 6 pairing that would be stitched onto the back of a jersey that would bear his name.

It was then, after two encounters, that felt more like lifetimes than minutes, that the woman who had so easily stolen his attention stood at his side. With a small step to the side, she was offering her cell phone to one of the staff members to take a few photographs before she was handing him the puck she had brought to be signed. It was in a square plastic case that took up the space on his palm. The small square of paper inside listed his name and the time at which he had scored the goal. Morgan smiled as he read it over. The puck itself had been from an AHL game. From back when he had been traded from the New York Rangers to the Winnipeg Jets and had played the remainder of that season with their affiliate, the Manitoba Moose.

She must have been watching him play for some time.

Smiling, Morgan looked up at her, waiting to just catch a glimpse of a smile back at him, but she didn’t do much more than glance his way. She must have been nervous, trying to hide it between a laugh and avoiding eye contact as she spoke more to the staff than to him.

She was telling the story of just how his trade, and his play with the Moose had put her on the path of being a Jets fan, again. Morgan signed the puck slowly, his eyes raising to look up at her on occasion until he had finished fitting the signature onto the puck. Then he sat back, and the chair listened to her tale. Not once did his smile fade, and his eyes did not leave her - even if they did wander.

On her shoulders rested one of the Winnipeg Jets Reverse Retro Jackets that had been sold during the last regular season. It was a jacket that had been earning her compliments since she had walked through the door. And they weren’t wrong. It was a nice jacket. It looked great on her. Hell, she looked great, period. He couldn’t tell much of what she wore underneath the jacket, safe for a sliver of black fabric. He was sure could only be her blouse, and the small glimmer of a silver chain that hung around her neck. But it was her legs that quickly caught his attention. Even in the cold, she had gone out wearing a miniskirt. Intentional or not, she had caught his attention. His eyes dragged up and down the length of her, from the ankle of her brown boots, up over the curves of her thighs that disappeared under the plaid fabric that encased the breadth of her hips.

He did his best not to stare at how she shifted the weight of her body from one foot to the next awkwardly as she spoke. Or how the slit of her skirt, as it rested over one thigh, looked as if with one wrong move, the stretchy fabric would reach its limits and rip. But it was there as his eyes fixated on the fabric that he did notice a rip, not in her skirt, but in her tights. To anyone else I would have gone unnoticed, but to him as he sat at her side, looking up and so fixated on every bit of her, he was taking in every little detail. The barely there run in her thighs started just above her right knee. The pale hosiery almost an exact match to her flesh, but he followed the run in the tights up, over the flesh of her thigh and to where it seemed to disappear between her thighs.

Morgan’s mouth went dry, his eyes fixated there on the shadows between her thighs. Without touching her, without even getting out of his chair to get closer to her, Morgan could feel that would radiate off her skin. It made his palms begin to sweat, and it ignited a fire that burned over every inch of his body as he thought about how smooth her skin would feel as his hands slid over her thighs. And how tight the hosiery would be as he took it in each of his fists and tore a hole in them in just the right places-

Taking a sharp inhale, Morgan fixed his eyes on her smile one last time before he could really let his mind falter. It was then he caught a single word of her story that challenged the smile that had grown so wide his cheeks had begun to hurt.

Boyfriend.

She had a boyfriend.

Of course she would. A woman like her, they always had someone waiting for them back home. But that didn’t make him feel any less stupid. He shouldn’t have been looking at her the way he knew he had been with his wide grin and his eyes looking at her in a way he didn’t have words to describe. It was embarrassing, laughable even, but she didn’t seem to notice.

Nobody did.

Closing up the protective casing on the puck, Morgan left it there on the table as he stood. He would give her one proper picture before they would send her on her way, and he would move on to the next fan that had already been kept waiting.

With the single step of his white sneaker scuffing against the floor and Morgan was standing right beside her. Even with the thick heel of her boot, he towered over her. She came up no higher than his chin as he reached out and placed his hand against the wind breaker. It was a light touch, not enough to earn that horrible scratch sound of its unique fabric, but just enough that he could feel the curve of her body against his palm.

Morgan stood there with his smile, his dark curls threatening to fall down into his eyes, as he tried to ignore how she felt beneath his touch. And he fought through the temptations of letting his mind falter back into the depths that were his unfound fantasy about a beautiful stranger.

When he pulled back, he secured the puck with the glide of his thumb over the plastic sticker she had pried open to give him access to the puck inside. Then he handed it back to her, her rough fingertips grazing over his soft touch as she muttered out a soft thank you.

“Thanks for coming,” he leaned in as he spoke, hating that he could muster anything more clever or more thoughtful to say.

He wanted her to stay. To listen to her laugh, and to her stories. To learn her name, and give him time to say anything else but those pathetic words that left his lips. But Morgan could only watch her. Her hand tucked the puck into the cross body bag that hung across her body, and with one final thank you to the girls working the meet and greet, she was gone.

The young woman would remain nothing more than a stranger, a memory. And with that acceptance of fate, Morgan sighed, carded a hand through the thickness of his curls, and he moved onto the next fan in line whose face would be nothing but the one that blurred into the next.

After a loss, there was always a certain calm on the bus ride to the airport. No one said a word after a greeting from Schmidt, a quick, “we'll get ‘em next time boys!” before they claimed their seats and fell into their routines. But Morgan had started before he could board. With his headphones thumbed into each year, and his music loud, he kept his head down as he moved to the back of the bus and took a seat.

It was never a long drive, but he was sure to get a few tracks in, as they played a little too loud in his ears to block out the noise of his teammates around him. -He desperately needed the distraction. While he wasn't playing poorly, Morgan felt he could be playing better. He could always be better.

Maybe he was being too hard on himself, but sometimes you needed to be. And when that weight became too heavy on his shoulders, Morgan disconnected.

The music blared in his ears, and his eyes fell onto the hypnotic glow of his cellphone as he cradled it in one hand. With the swift motion of a single thumb, Morgan browsed one social media timeline and then the next. Sinking further and further into the rabbit hole until he found himself staring at his own Instagram profile. More specifically, his tagged photos. It was there, his thumb stilled. His eyes fixating on one picture that stood out among the masses of images the Winnipeg Jets had tagged him in.

The picture stood out to him, the backdrop of a small hockey collectibles shop instead of a hockey rink. And he wasn't alone in the picture, or joined by any of his teammates. Beside him stood the pretty brunette from the signing all those nights ago. Her arm bent so casually behind his back as his hand rested just above the small of hers. Any lower and he would have gotten himself into trouble, but it was innocent enough.

Morgan smiled a crooked smile as he studied the angle from the other side of the camera. Her smile was a little awkward, and she wasn't as photogenic as she was magnetic in person, but she still held his attention all the same.

Fingers tapped the side of his phone almost anxiously, his thumb hovering over her account name on the screen. He shouldn't have been so curious, but it was quick to get the best of him.

Her account name was one that could have only been made in high school. Something silly, clever at the time, but she never got around to changing. And it didn't have much more to offer him than that. With her first name, Emmy, the only name left there for him to know she had left no age, no emojis or lovers' initials for him to read.

And her photos are nothing more than mere snapshots into her life. She liked to paddle boards - one of the many beautiful Manitoba lakes the backdrop to the curves of her body in tiny bikinis. She hikes and fishes in the summer too, the pictures shared of winding trails and her latest big catch. But her winters are reserved for the love of the sport she played - the occasional photo of Canada Life Centre posted on the screen. And she has a cat, who she takes more pictures of than anything or anyone else. Even more so than herself, with her selfies few and far in between.

Scrolling down, Morgan pressed his thumb to the touch screen to prevent it from scrolling any further as a realization took him. She was alone in almost every single one of her photographs. Returning to her profile, Barron scrolled and looked at the small collection of images she had chosen to share. Each one seemed distinct. Alone and unrelated to the one that came before and the other that came after. Fractures of what once was there; her boyfriend.

There was no sign of him anywhere on her profile. Not one picture or tag. He had been removed from her life with the click of a button.

His smile grew. It shouldn't have, but it did as he leaned back against the seat.

Then, the idea of messaging her made his smile go broader, and Barron cast a glance to the surrounding seats to assure he hadn't gathered any unwanted attention from his teammates. And when he was sure they were distracted by one another or something on their own phones, Barron opened a direct message and watched the cursor blink.

His thumbs hovered over the keyboard, his mind blank, as he could decide what to say to her. In a perfect world, He could say literally anything to her and she would answer. But even as a NHL player, the chance of her screening him was high - hell, it felt higher than if he were just some average guy. And he didn't know if she was even looking for anything. A relationship, a friend, just someone to talk to… There was so much Morgan didn't know, including just how long she and her boyfriend had been separated.

But he messaged her anyway.

You google my name, and you get an entire Wikipedia page about my life. You google Emmy, and you get the awards. I want to know your story, if you’ll let me.

Staring at his phone screen, Morgen's heart fluttered in the depths of his chest at the unread message. It left him feeling nervous, sick even, knowing that she could read it and never reply-

“Hey,” a sharp shout met his ears. It was Schmidty calling to him from the front of the now empty bus. Well, empty except for him. “Bear. Com'on. Coach won't let us leave without you!”

It was time to fly home.

For the entirety of his fight back to Winnipeg, Morgan slept to keep himself from constantly checking his phone. It was the only way to keep himself from holding his breath, leaving his lungs burning with the great anticipation of waiting for Emmy to reply. Hoping that she would, and the disappointment that would come if she didn’t. But that didn’t stop him from holding his breath as he walked out to his car and started up his phone. The bright light off the screen sent his eyes squinting as the darkness of the night surrounded him. One notification after the next had his phone vibrating in his hand, and his heart thundered as he read each one. And once he saw it, her smiling profile picture beside an Instagram notification, he held his breath until his lungs burned. She had answered!

It was the first of many messages exchanged between them. The first of many conversations held between the awkwardness of his schedule. He sent quick messages in the mornings, after practice and before games and the late hours after. And she would answer the best she could when she could between her own chaotic schedule that came with working shift work. It wasn’t easy, but they made it work - but it made Morgan all the more nervous when he finally decided to ask her out to dinner, and all the more excited when she said yes.

Earls on Main street was one of the nicest restaurants in Winnipeg without being intimidating and unapproachable for a first date. It was a place the guys on the team liked to frequent after a victory or during some downtime in a city that really had very little to do during the season unless you liked ice fishing or comedy clubs. And it was somewhere close to both of them, with it behind a mere ten-minute walk from the arena where Morgan parked his car and Emmy had claimed it was close to home for her as well, though Morgan did worry she had only said that to be agreeable.

He arrived early, securing a table by the window looking over main street as it was already becoming congested with rush hour traffic. Cars sat bumper to bumper on weather eroded roads. The music that set the ambiance of the restaurant couldn’t even block their symphony of honking out. Each heavy honk interrupted the calm and reminded him of the nerves in the depths of his chest as he waited for Emmy.

The beads of condensation could only calm the sweat of his palms as they dripped down the cold glass of his beer as it was handed to him. Sneaking one in before dinner wouldn’t hurt, not if it eased the worry in his mind. Dating as a hockey player in New York had been easy. He was a bottom 6 plug who barely broke the lineup back then. Girls weren’t intimidated by him, and they were different. Morgan had always had a type, that was for sure. He liked them brunette and outdoorsy, straying away from his type only a handful of times when it served him well. Emmy fit a lot of things in a woman he usually looked for. That alone should have put him at ease, but two things nagged him into the depths of his mind. Being a hockey player in the small city of Winnipeg meant you were a local celebrity. Some women didn’t like the attention that came with being around him. Then there was the biggest worry of all, something he had never worried about until her: what if she didn’t share his attractions?

Texting was one thing. Something you could do with anyone, regardless of interest or attraction. Something you could do aimlessly when you were bored or trying to kill time. It was how you conversed in person that really mattered. That was where you showed your interest and how you really got to know them. Sitting at a table with someone you aren’t interested in would be harder - and all he could do as he polished off the golden ale of his beer was hope that it wouldn’t be the case.

A steady hand lowered the empty glass down to rest on a coaster before his hand dropped to his phone that rested face down on the table. Morgan had tried not to watch the time, but the traffic was starting to calm and Emmy had yet to make an appearance. Almost thirty minutes had passed since he had arrived, and ten minutes since the agreed upon meeting time. He shifted in his seat as he placed the phone down again. Ten minutes wasn’t enough to be worried, but the waitress circled like a shark with blood in the water.

“You have a chance to look over the menu,” the waitress, Jenn, spoke sweetly as she approached him. Her hand was quick to come to rest on the back of the chair behind him, and she smiled down at him, waiting for her response.

“I’m still waiting on my date,” his head cocked, trying not to sound rude as he gestured to the seat across from him, “she shouldn’t be much longer, but maybe some water for the table?”

“And another beer?”

He paused for a moment, contemplating. Then, Morgan shook his head and let out a soft, “No, I’ll be okay for now. Thank you.”

His hands dropped to the table, his thumbs drumming on the wooden surface rhythmically. It was a hollow distraction from what was the haunting possibility that he had gotten stood up. The movement and the sound were the only thing keeping Morgan from dropping his palm into his hand, his disappointment only consuming him on the inside. It bubbled there and almost became enough for him to leave enough cash on the table to cover the beer and a generous tip. And he almost did it, but when his thumbs stilled, he heard her.

“Oh, yes, I see him. Thank you.”

Sitting up straight in his seat as he looked out over the restaurant that was beginning to grow consumed by the dinner rush. Walking down the narrow aisle between the bar and the seats along the large front windows, he found Emmy. She walked towards the table carrying two bags on one arm and her puffy white winter coat tossed over the other. Her coat is so large he can’t make out what she was wearing until she was draping it over the back of her chair: a pair of tight pleather pants hugged at her hips, a white blouse tucked in at the waist and she wore white sneakers that looked so clean he was sure they had never been worn outside. His eyes traced the curves of her body as he admired her, down one side and up the other until they fixated on her face-framing curls that hung loosely from the hold of her claw clip. Between each tendril was the smile he remembered so fondly.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” her apology was quick and punctuated with a small huff that left her shoulder rising and falling with her breath. And her eyes didn’t quite meet his as she draped her coat over the back of her chair.

She looked a little embarrassed, frustrated, maybe, but Morgan wanted to do his best to put her at ease.

“Don’t worry about it.” Morgan stood up quickly, his hand reaching out to take hold of the back of her chair in a simple act of courtesy. He drew it back slowly, towering over her as he offered her a friendly smile. “Long day?”

“Very.” There was a tiredness in her voice, and it had Morgan’s smile on the verge of wavering.

They could have postponed, he wouldn’t have minded. Yet, there she was looking a little defeated, a little tired with faint purple bags under her eyes that she tried to hide with concealer, but just as beautiful as the night she had walked into the collector's shop to meet him.

She smiled across the table at him; he smiled back, and before he could say anything else, the waitress Jenn had returned to serve them.

They started their date with a glass of wine, something to take the edge off. It calmed his nerves, and he watched the tension melt away from her shoulders with each sip of her glass. Then came dinner that was paired with soft laughs and conversation, before they finished with coffee and desserts. Hours passed, the sunset and the restaurant cleared until it felt like they were the only two left in the place. And he would stay there with you until the lights went down, and they tried to kick you both out if he could. He liked Emmy’s company, and he was sure she did too by the way she laughed and how the conversation never seemed to die. Even the silence as he sipped what was left of his coffee felt right in her company.

Morgan’s lips parted in a satisfied hum as he leaned back in his seat, his long legs stretching out just far enough to brush against hers beneath the table. She doesn’t pull away. She doesn’t even flinch. He wonders if she even noticed his touch, his warmth as his leg rested so casually against what he was sure was her knee. It was the subtlest of touches, and it only left him wanting more. Morgan wanted to reach out over the table and hold her hand. To feel the smooth skin of her fingers and toy with the ring she wore on her right little finger. He wanted to press his hand to her lower back, to let it so subtly find her curves as they walked together. But there was nothing more he wanted than to take her home. To take her to her bed or his and explore every inch of the body he had been left to dream about since the day he met her.

He wanted their night to continue after dinner. To keep making her laugh, but also make her moan.

But he couldn’t have her and be a gentleman both-

“Is there anything else I can get you two?” Jenn’s quick question pulled Barron from his thoughts, his head snapping in her direction as he was reminded that he and Emmy were not, in fact, alone in the restaurant.

“Just the bill, please,” he smiled before looking across the table at Emmy, who smiled back at him in return. Jenn left them, and with a quick glance over the near empty, he half laughed, “I think we overstayed our welcome.”

“I’m not complaining,” she assured him. “It’s a shame they aren’t open later. I could have probably sat here all night.”

Morgan had to bite his tongue. He was sure that was his chance to make this more than just dinner, but maybe she was just being polite. Complimenting his company. Besides, he had already decided he was going to be a gentleman.

When Jenn returned with the bill, she didn’t linger. She placed the thin leather receipt book down, directly between them and half hanging off the table’s edge. The white edge of the receipt peaking out for the top. Morgan offered a soft, thankful smile as he reached out for it, his hand wrapping around it effortlessly as he drew it back to his side of the table while the other slipped into his back pocket for his wallet.

“Here, let me cover my half,” Emmy insisted, her hand reaching out to catch the very edge of the book, her fingers so close to his Morgan’s breath hitched, wishing she had reached out for his hand.

Morgan didn’t even have to think about it. Maybe her insistence was her trying to be kind. A show of equality, the strength of her femininity. But he couldn’t let her pay. It didn’t feel right. Not while he made millions a year. “I’m not letting you do that.”

“But then-” she began to counter, but cut herself off with the bite of her own teeth on her lower lip.

Morgan’s shoulder slumped, his head hanging there as his eyes shut and a heavy sigh shook him. He didn’t need her to finish to know what she was going to say.

But then this would be a date. A real date. Not just two people spending the entire evening together with wine, a meal, and what he thought was great company. Had he been wrong? Had she not enjoyed their evening together?

The thought hurt him to even wonder, but he hit the ache in his chest behind a crooked smile and continued to go through his wallet with the intention of paying the bill in full. “I insist,” he continued to assure, his words gentle, “it wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t. This doesn’t have to be anything more than dinner.”

She was silent for a moment, her glossy eyes fixated on the receipt as her hands slid from the tabletop to rest on her lap. Emmy shifted uncomfortably in her seat, a heavy breath rocking her shoulders as she conceded, “yeah, okay, but only if you insist.”

There was a heaviness between them as he paid the bill, making sure to leave a tip for Jenn who was forward but friendly with her service. He offered his thank you's, and helped Emmy gather her things before they moved to the front doors together. It was only as they entered the building’s lobby that she spoke again.

“I’m sorry, I should have-” she cut herself off with a sigh, “It’s been a while since I’ve gone out with anyone I-” Emmy rambled, as she rounded one of the chairs in the lobby and seated herself down. She draped her coat over her lap, and placed her bags at her feet, her attention on them instead of Morgan, who lingered standing tall at her side.

And he almost frowns. It’s like she can’t find the words she really wants to say to him.

“It’s okay,” he assured, his hands dipping into the pockets of his jeans as he slouched his shoulders. He couldn't help but be responsible for what now felt like a miscommunication. “I could have been-”

“No, no, it wasn’t you,” she sighed, her hand falling to her hands, “you’ve been great. Really. A perfect gentleman-” Morgan wanted to beam, but he kept his composure as he moved to sit across from her, “It’s just, this has all been harder for me to adjust to than I thought.”

This? Dating.

Morgan sighed as he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. It was hard not to be selfish. To not be upset with the fact that she was struggling to get back into the dating game when he was sitting right in front of her. But it wasn’t easy, not if her boyfriend was someone she had hoped to spend the rest of her life with while he was just supposed to be a hockey player on her television screen.

He did his best not to be upset, defeated by the fact that maybe she wasn’t all that interested in him or ready to move on, but Morgan showed her compassion regardless. “How long were you two together?”

“Five years… give or take a few months.”

“And how long has it been since…”

“Three months…”

Morgan let out a long, heavy sigh. The break up was still very, very fresh for her. And after being in a relationship for so long, it could take her months, maybe even years, to recover. It was something he couldn’t rush, even if he wanted to be selfish and have her all for himself.

“If it’s any consolation, I had a very nice night with you, Emmy. And I’d like to see you again, even if it’s just as friends.”

A soft smile splayed over her features as her arms hugged her coat to her chest. “I’d like that.” Her warm eyes met him for a moment. So soft and warm, they alone were almost enough to draw him in, but Morgan kept himself at bay, smiling along with her soft words, “I mean, how am I supposed to pay you back if I don’t see you again?”

“Em,” Morgan started to protest, and her smile only grew.

“At least let me buy you a beer sometime, as a thank you,” she insisted.

And how could he say no if it meant securing plans to see her again?

“Okay, fine,” his words were laced with a hint of laughter, “one beer.”

Emmy smiled at the compromise, her warm gaze falling from his features and to her bed. Morgan watched as she rummaged through it, curious to know what she was searching for, only for his brows to knit when she pulled out a pair of winter boots.

“You don't plan on walking home, do you?” He asked her quickly. It was late, and sure the buses would be running and taking a taxi was always an option, but Morgan wanted to assure she was getting home safe.

“I always walk home, it's not far,” she assured.

“I've kept you out pretty late it’s-”

“Not safe?” she cut in, smiling. She's had this talk many times before. “I've lived in downtown Winnipeg longer than you've been pro.”

Morgan raised his hands up, but this wasn't a defeat. “Alright, tough guy, the people of Winnipeg better watch out for you. But please, let me give you a ride, at the very least, to give me some peace of mind.”

Emmy cocked her head to the side, her warm brown eyes looking across at him as she continued to smile. For a moment, Morgan Thought she might have the gull to refuse him, to insist on walking home alone regardless of his offer. But then she tucked her boots back into her bag and stood up to pull on her coat.

“Alright, fine. You can drive me home, but only because it's late,” she accepted his offer with a smile, and then took his arm as it was offered to her.

They walked together, with her arm linked around his, through the city's skywalk system to keep away from the winter's chill. They made small talk, sharing casual conversation about plans for the coming days as they walked back to where he left his truck parked closer to the rink in their secured parking. And she didn't let her touch slip away from him until he had opened the passenger side door of his truck and helped her inside.

The drive to her apartment was quick, no longer than 5 minutes, and was only delayed by the series of one-way streets he had been forced to wind through and his need to ask Emmy for directions. Her apartment, a mere five story building surrounded by towering sky rises, was calm out front. Light glowed from a number of the windows, but the street itself was calm and felt worlds away from the arena that was no more than four city blocks away. It didn't feel like the city there, so close to the heart of Winnipeg but also so close to the river, and the nature Manitoba was known for.

Morgan smiled up at the quaint little apartment before he looked across the front seat and to Emmy, whose hand had dropped to unbuckle her seatbelt. “No wonder you go to so many games-”

He bit his tongue. All night, they had done their best not to talk about work. His or hers. The only way he would have known she went to as many games as she seemed was from looking at her social media. Which he had, too many times, before their date that night.

“Are you creeping on me?” Her words were more of a tease than a question.

Morgan smiled wider.

“I might have, once or twice.”

Blush flooded her cheeks, her head turning to try to hide it from him, but it still lingered when she looked back with a small smile she was trying to contain as she spoke. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Thanks for the company.”

“I had a good time.”

There it was. The awkward pleasantries that lead up to the goodbye. The ones that were sandwiched between the feeling of wanting to spend more time with one another and the finality of needing to leave. Worst of all, he wanted to go with her. Morgan would have parked his car on the street and went up to her apartment with her if she had extended the invitation, and would ruin his every effort to remain a gentleman. But they sat in silence, sharing soft smiles as the car sat in the middle of the road, obstructing the traffic that didn't exist at that time of night.

Yet, neither of them could manage to say what needed to be said. Goodbye.

Even as she grabbed her bags, it couldn’t slip off his tongue. Not even as he saw her hand hesitate as she reached for the door could Morgan find a single word. Not a goodbye, not the wait that sat lodged in the back of his throat, no matter how desperately he wanted to scream it. And for a moment he thought he might have, because Emmy froze and she placed her bags back down on the floor of the truck. Then she shimmied into the center seat, her arms reaching around him so carefully in a cautious embrace.

“Thanks for dinner,” she whispered out, her hot words felt against his neck.

Morgan’s jaw set, a single arm wrapping around her and drawing her in just a little closer. The strength of his arm coiled around her, his fingers gripping at the curve of her waist as his face found its place in the crook of her neck. He breathed her in, felt her warmth, yet he didn't feel close enough. Morgan wanted nothing more than to pull her closer - but if she were any closer, Emmy would be in his lap.

He held her until he felt her slip away from him. But she didn't go far. She lingered in the space that was once left void between them, breathing his air and not quite out of his reach. Morgan could feel her every heated breath on his cheeks, and watched at her brown doe eyes as they traced the angles of his features. But it was only as she stared fixated on his lips that Morgan felt he knew what she wanted.

A single hand raised up, his touch meeting the skin of her cheek. Feeling her was so smooth in contract, his hockey callous hands against perfectly imperfect flesh. Fingertips grazed over her cheek carefully, traveling up to her hairline and drew her in.

His kiss was quick and chaste. That was until Morgan felt her kiss him back. The soft gentle drag of her full lips that almost seemed to gasp at the fiction. He drew her in a little closer, the soft sound sending his heart racing as his tongue swept out between his teeth and tasted the very entrance of her mouth before Morgan found his restraint.

Morgan's hands fell from her face, his gaze dropping to look down at his truck seat, ashamed.

He shouldn't have done that.

“I’m sorry,” his words caught in the back of his throat and his tongue parted his lips and ran over them just to taste what remained of her on his lips.

“Don’t be,” Emmy breathed out, the heat of her words felt on his face as she had yet to really pull away from him. She was so close he thought she might lean back in, that she might let him kiss her again if he reached up and took her cheeks in both of his hands. And he considered doing it, even as his hands reached up to grip the steering wheel in restraint. The long moment of opportunity passed and all of her warmth was gone in one simple motion as she opened the truck door. The gust of Winnipeg winter wind left him shivering as she grabbed her things.

“Good night, Morgan,” she told him softly as she moved to slip out the passenger door, where she froze one last time. “Can I call you in the morning?”

Morgan took in a sigh of relief. “Please do.”

The edge of the cold, hard, white plastic of the key card tapped against the rounded edge of his steering wheel as Morgan drove towards the airport. There was a flurry in the sky. Fluffy snowflakes that left the road slick and congested with traffic, but not even that could frustrate him. Not with the key card pinched between his two fingers.

He didn’t know what it was for, but he knew who it belonged to. It must have fallen from Emmy’s purse, or her pocket when he had given her a ride home. Whether it was intentional or not, he didn’t know. But it gave him an excuse to message her as he rolled to a stop in the parking lot outside the Winnipeg Richardson International Airport.

The text message may have sounded like an innuendo if it hadn’t been for the picture of her keycard in his hand as he held it out in front of him.

And as he broke the news, Emmy was quick to respond.

At two in the morning, when the city was calm and the only thing that was open was the occasional gas station or convenience store, the drive from the airport to downtown Winnipeg was quick. Morgan’s truck was the only vehicle on the road safe for the occasional taxi driving club goers home, or an emergency vehicle wailing through the street on their way to the next call. But the air was quiet when Morgan pulled into the victory parking space behind Emmy’s building. A small caution greeted him, any cars parked there after two in the morning would be towed. He looked to the left, parked car, he looked to the right, another car. This one was covered in snow, and looked like it had been there a number of days. And he shrugged. There was nothing he had to worry about.

Leaning across the center console, Morgan reached into the glove-box where he stored Emmy’s key card for the short time he had been in Chicago. He tapped it between his fingers, grinning. It was such a simple thing. A plain white card, misplaced, allowed him to see her again so much sooner than he could have anticipated. What was surely a headache for her was a gift to him.

Morgan smiled the entire way to the building’s front door, where with quick fingers he quickly pressed the cold buttons that would alert her that he had arrived. A cold wind chilled him as he stood, waiting as the ring of the apartment directory box rang. Shoulders raised and his neck shrunk down into his coat as his hands drove into his pockets. Morgan listened to each droning ring, his heart racing at the prospect that it was too late, that Emmy had most likely fallen asleep before the plane had even landed.

But then he heard her, her voice sounding distorted and robotic as it came through the speaker, “take the elevator up!”

Then all was quiet and there was nothing more to be heard until the lock on the door clicked.

Drawing his hands from his pocket, the sticky cold of the handle greeted his palms. It melted beneath his quick touch and the warmth of the lobby embraced him. The contrast of hot and cold left his body shivering as he took quick strides up the quick steps of the lobby, and quickly found the elevator. It roared to life with the press of a button, leaving whatever floor it had stopped on to meet him on the main level. The door parted in front of him, revealing a small, empty elevator that he would take up to the 5th floor. When the doors parted again, he exited out into the hallway and looked left, then right, trying to gauge the layout of the floor only to find a familiar face.

Emmy.

“I thought it would be easier to meet you,” Emmy greeted him with a soft smile.

His smile grew as his eyes dragged up and down her figure. Not only had she managed to stay awake for him, she hadn’t dressed down in her pajamas. Wherever she had been earlier in the evening had her dressed in a navy blue dress that hugged her body and stopped mid calf. His gaze lingered on the hem before following the angles of her legs down to her feet where she stood without shoes, but was not barefoot. She was wearing a pale hosiery that was barely there noticeable and it left his mind spiraling back to the very first night he had met her when the miniskirt she had been wearing wasn’t enough to hide the run in her tights.

He swallowed hard, trying to moisten his suddenly dry mouth.

“Saves me from getting lost in the hallway,” Morgan tried to keep his words playful, his dry throat sticking to his words as he spoke. Then, while smiling, he dipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out her key card. “Here, I-” he licked his lips, “I'm sorry I kept you up so late waiting on me.”

Emmy smiled. Then, she reached out and took it from his hand as it was offered to her. Her delicate touch fluttered over his hand for a moment before she pulled it into her chest.

“Late? Hardly,” her tone was chipper, reassuring, “I was actually-” she looked down the hallway to what he was sure was her door. Emmy chewed at her bottom lip, sighing as she brought her free hand up to push through her long, brunette curls, “did you want to come inside?”

Her question had been blurted out when her mind had failed to find words smoother or more coy during her brief moment of hesitation.

And Morgan should have said no. He knew he should have. But with the memory of her tiny skirt and long legs weighing heavily on his mind, he couldn't refuse.

Smiling, Morgan gestured up the hall silently and let her lead the way into her apartment at the end of the hallway. It was a good size for one person with the kitchen and main living space visible from the door. The lights were dim, their glow lighting up a wall of bookshelves and her sofa. Across from in, a single television and photographs hung above. It's quaint, comfortable, but he can tell there used to be more. There were large spaces of openness. Like half of the furniture was missing - a void of what was once more left behind. And tucked into the corner, just below the large windows that looked out over the parking lot, and the Assiniboine River, was a pile of boxes.

Maybe she was moving, or maybe she was just hiding from the memories.

He didn’t pry.

“Nice place you got here,” He complimented as he kicked off his shoes and pushed them to the side where a pair of her boots sat on a plastic mat to keep the melted snow from becoming a puddle on the floor, “is there somewhere I can put my coat?”

Morgan hated himself for asking. He shouldn't have been settling in.

“Here, I can take it,” she was quick to offer, her hands finding his coat as it slipped from his arms. Her touch left his shoulder tense, and his heart racing as he watched her move halfway up the hallway to hang up his coat in the closet. “Did you want a drink or something?”

“No, no, I'm fine, really,” Morgan assured, still standing in the doorway.

“Let me know if you change your mind,” Emmy smiled, moving past him to curl up on the sofa.

She sat right in the middle of the sectional, the chaise empty to her left and to her right her laptop with a book resting on top. And across her face came the glow of the television, the highlights from the game playing on repeat. The Jets had won 3-2 in overtime, but it wasn't a game he was proud of. He had less than 10 minutes of ice time, his play was lacking and his mind distracted as he knew that when he landed back in Winnipeg, he had to come back and see her. He knew she watched the game, but she wished she hadn't. At Least then maybe he could pretend he had played better.

“You watched the game?” He gestured to the television as he approached the couch slowly and took the vacant space next to her on the chaise.

“Yeah,” she said, “had my family over to watch after grabbing dinner. Hence the dress, I didn't just-”

“Put it on for me?” The suggestion slipped from Morgan's lips before he could stop himself, and it left his tongue feeling like it was swelling in his mouth. The feeling left his mouth gaping, his eyes shutting as he hid his own embarrassment behind his hand.

“Lounge around in business casual,” she offered him the rest of her words, her smile coy as she brought her legs up to curl off to the side.

As he peeked through his fingers, he was hyperaware of every one of her movements and how the fabric of her dress raised up higher on her legs as she got comfortable. The dark fabric bunched around her knees, exposing the narrow ripple of the runs as they began and traveled up to where he couldn't see.

“I'm sorry,” Morgan laughed, his hand falling back to his lap as he turned to face her straight on. He should have asked her about her day then. It would have been a nice distraction from the fool he had made of himself, but he had already shoved his foot in his mouth already. “I'm just a little distracted… You just look so pretty over there.”

Over there. He wanted to hit his palm against his forehead. She was mere inches from him, her body within his reach and even closer as she turned to prop her elbow on the back of the sofa and her head in her hand. She gazed at him, her eyes soft, like he was a daydream, and her smile grew with the red flush of her cheeks.

“I can't tell if you're nervous, or trying to be coy,” Emmy hummed playfully.

And he couldn't tell her it was neither. Morgan wasn't nervous or coy. He was just a man who wanted nothing more than to take her by the legs, hoist up the skirt of her dress and rip a hole in her tights.

“Which one gets me a kiss?”

Her entire face lit up at the question, and she knew it. Emmy tried to hide it from him as she looked away at the television, but her composure was weaning, as was his own. “Bringing me my badge gets you a kiss.”

Emmy leaned in, her eyes shutting and her face softening, and found his lips in a soft kiss that was not much more than a fluttering graze that left his hand flexing with restraint. He wanted nothing more than to draw her back in, to kiss her firmly, deeply, and then he saw her smile and how the corner of her lips curled up and the brightness of her eyes flickered like candle light. She hadn't kissed him like that to be gentle or sweet. Emmy was teasing him - testing him - and he failed. There was no hiding that he wanted more from her. He could feel it written all over his own face as his jaw slacked and eyes narrowed as she leaned in again and placed another slow kiss to his mouth.

It was an agonizing kiss. Her full lips brushed against his, meeting his kiss with all of her calm sweetness gone. Emmy was as eager as he was. Their kiss hastened, her lips parting and her tongue gliding over his lips before he could reach both hands up to cup each side of her face. It drew her in deeper, his tongue tasting hers and coaxing a soft sound up her throat. It was a mix of a sigh and a moan, her lips melting into his as she pushed up onto her knees, but didn't let her lips stray from their kiss.

She wanted to be closer to him, and Morgan welcomed it. His hands left her face, dropping down to hook behind her knees where the fabric of her dress bunched. He gripped her there, and used that leverage to pull her in closer, over the rough gray fabric of the sofa. It was the only encouragement she needed to come in closer, her own hands reaching down to pull up the fabric of her dress just enough to climb into his lap.

His own heartbeat pounded in his ears at the feeling of her knees on either side of his thighs, and the warmth of her body as it bridged over him. Morgan could finally, for the very first time, after months of what ifs, maybes, and dreams that left him reeling in a cold sweat, feel her body against him. He could finally feel the curves of her waist and hips beneath his palms. He stoked over them as he kissed her, rubbing up and down and up again before they reached the hem of her dress that had raised up higher and higher until it came to rest at her mid thigh. So much of her was left exposed to him, yet there was so much more for him to uncover if Emmy left him.

Morgan's hand dipped down, abandoning the skirt of Emmy's dress and grazing over the thin nylon hosiery. He stroked over it discreetly, until he found it, a single run that stretched from knee to inner thigh. Fingertips traced it lazily as he pulled back from the kiss of her lips and began to kiss along the soft angle of her jaw until he was speaking his heated words just below her right ear, “I can’t stop thinking about these.”

Two fingers found the largest point in the run and circled it slowly. Morgan could feel it stretch and grow beneath the friction. He smiled against the skin of her neck.

“I noticed them the day I met you…” Morgan’s fingers toyed with the nylon, stretching it just a little wider so he could feel the soft flesh of her inner thigh before tracing the run back down to her knee. “You were wearing that little skirt. It was so short, how could I not look? Your curves, I noticed those first. If you don't count that smile.”

He paused again, just long enough to draw back and take in the sight of Emmy as she sat there straddling his lap. Her eyes shut, her body completely still as if she was holding her breath, hanging on his every word as he offered her a mere fraction of the desire in his mind.

“Your ass, your thighs. Too thick for the cheap tights…” he followed the run up high, almost to the very apex of her thigh, “so they stretch and they run.”

Emmy shuttered, whether it be from his touch of his words he didn't know, but he felt it. Morgan felt it across his lap first, her hips moving from side to side in an involuntary wiggle as the shiver had run its course down her body, and then he felt it in his thighs as her knees seemed to subtly squeeze around him before relaxing once more. It was paired with an unsteady breath, then another as his fingers stroked in small circles around the exposed skin at the very center of the run.

He was so close to letting a single finger slip between the nylon and trying to rip it away from her skin. But he hesitated, waiting for her rejection or some sort of permission to keep going. Either way, the damage was done. Morgan had made his advance when he should have done nothing more than talk to her about her day and go home tired with nothing more than a thank you kiss. And as he waited with nothing but the sound of her eager breath to put him at ease, Morgan was sure he was going to be sent home at the cost of any kind of relationship with her going forward.

But then she spoke, and he heard the smile in her tone, “so that's why you were looking at me like that.”

“Like what? Where?” he breathed out, his nose nuzzling into her neck before he placed a gentle kiss there.

“At the signing,” her words were soft, jovial, “you were looking at me like I was the only person in that room.” Emmy’s head turned into his as she chuckled, her cheek grazing with his as she spoke softly, “and I was too nervous to even notice. I don't even know if I even looked at you the whole time…”

“You didn't,” he confirmed gently, “but I wished you would.”

She drew back slowly, and he could no longer feel the heat of her breath against his skin but her doe-brown eyes looking down at him. “I didn't even believe it after looking at the photos. It was my friend who pointed it out…”

“And what did she say?”

She looked away, and Morgan raised his free hand up to guide her gaze back to his. “Nothing appropriate.”

“You and your friend, you're close?”

She nodded slowly.

“You tell her about me?”

“Yes,” her head cocked to the side, “should I not have?”

“No, no,” Morgan shook his head, his hair falling down into his eyes, “I don't care about that. What did she say after our date?”

Emmy’s cheeks turned a brilliant shade of pink and her shoulders slouched forward as she tried to avoid his gaze again. Whatever her friend, Emmy didn't want to repeat it, and that excited him.

Leaning in, Morgan kissed her neck slowly. A sloppy, open-mouthed kiss that left a heated trail as he kissed his way down to the angles of her collarbone. He felt her breast heave against his chin as he spoke against her flesh. “What did she say, Emmy?”

Morgan punctuated his question with the graze of his teeth over her collarbone, coaxing a shutter to run its course through her body once more.

“She,” Emmy gasped, “asked if you fuck as good as you play hockey.”

Morgan's lips caught on her flesh, dragging over it as he drew back just enough to look over the softened embarrassment on her features. Her friend's words were a bold, brash thing to say. Girl's talk, gossip even, and it had brought them to what felt like the turning point of their night.

“What did you tell her?” Morgan asked.

“That you were a perfect gentleman.” Her breath was sweet against his face as she spoke, his own lips so close to kissing her again.

“That's too kind,” Morgan told her. His hand stroked over one of her cheeks before his fingers knitted into her brunette curls. He wanted nothing more than to anchor himself there. To use it to draw her in and to kiss her again. But that would make him far from the gentleman he was trying to be.

Emmy needed time to heal, Mogan knew that. Her wounds of her breakup were still fresh. He could see it even as she sat there in his lap in the middle of her living room. The boxes piled and the emptiness that remained. That alone should have been enough to say goodnight. He should have done nothing more than place a simple kiss on her forehead and left, but there was no ignoring the tensions between them. The tension he had been trying to ignore since the very night he had met her.

He was only a gentleman in practice. His thoughts, however, were the very opposite.

“Morgan,” Emmy whispered out as she raised up both hands. They took hold of him on each side of his face, the delicate touch of her fingers tickling over his scar and up into his hair. He groaned at the tug on his scalp as her fingers tangled in his post game shower curls. Her touch was all he needed to close the breath of space between them.

Their lips met unlike they had before. There was nothing chaste or cautious about the kiss. Emmy kissed him with such haste it was as if she thought he might disappear without notice. And his one large hand slid through her soft strands to the nape of her neck, drawing her in and kissed her with such depth Morgan swore he could taste something sweet on her tongue. Feeling it glide along the inside of his mouth coaxed a moan from the depths of his throat. Morgan had hoped the Kiss would have been enough to muffle it. That Emmy wouldn't hear the pathetic sound as it rumbled through his chest, but then he felt her smile against his lips.

The soft, confident curl of each corner drew a smile of his own, their teeth smacking as they were caught somewhere between a kiss and laughter. There was a level of comfort there on her coach, with her in his lap, that Morgan couldn't have anticipated. It made his every decision easy and made without any hesitation. Morgan barely had to think, only act, and it only slipped out of control and onto instinct when he felt Emmy's hips roll against his own.

There was no stopping himself from doing what he did next. His hands dropped to her hips instantly, gasping for a fistful of her dress and hosiery clad flesh. Morgan gripped her tight, his hands guiding her body so petite yet to curvy over the stiffening of his cock in his slacks. But it’s not enough. It only took two agonizing rotations before Morgan was slipping her to lie back on the chaise of her couch. Limbs hung over the side lazily as he hovered over her, his mouth capturing hers in a sloppy kiss as he rolled his hips down into hers. Fully clothed, her dress shifting up with the help of the tug of his hands, he felt like a desperate teenager. With Emmy’s hips raising to meet every roll of his own, he wanted nothing more to reach down and flick the button of his pants free. To ease the tension of his slacks over his cock that now raged against the fabric. The friction of her body alone would be enough to make him cum if that was as far as they decided to take things - but then he felt her hands. They fumbled in the space between them, down his chest and to the skirt of her dress. Emmy pulled it up, her body arching and contorting against his to work the navy fabric free.

Morgan salivated, his hands finding the rough gray fabric of the couch to push off until he was kneeling on the hard, laminate floor in front of her just to get a good look at her. The chaise was too small for her to lie on comfortably. Her leg hung off over the end of the couch at the knee, while the other leg was bent, her heel pressed into the plush cushion. The rest of her body sprawled, her beige hosiery near invisible until the waist wrapped around her stomach and so flattering to her figure Morgan was left biting his lip. Then, there was the contrast of her black panties beneath, and the mismatch of her sunflower yellow bra to catch his eyes as they wandered over each swell and valley of her body. And she watched him in return as she lay there, her chest heaving and her hands coming to rest on the couch’s surface. He was too far out of her reach to touch, but her dark eyes that contrasted his so perfectly told him exactly what she wanted.

A single hand reached back and gripped the light fabric of his t-shirt in his first. Morgan pulled it off in one fluid motion before it joined her dress on the floor. Then, his hand dropped to his best that sat too snug on his waist. He worked it free with one hand and pulled it free of each loop before dropping it to the floor with a clamor that even startled himself in what had become silence. He then leaned in, his pants hanging off his hips but not discarded, and let his touch return to the inside of her thighs. His calloused fingers traced over each run in her tights slowly, and his eyes followed each tear like roadways on a map while searching for the right direction. It was when he found the widest part of the run; he dipped one finger into it and began to work it larger. Then another. Emmy was shuddering by the time he was spreading his fingers, working the tear large enough to grip it with both hands. The fabric ripped with ease, the sound so satisfying, Morgan’s cock twitched. And he didn’t stop until the hole was ripped big enough for his fingers to tease the dark fabric of her panties.

There was no seeing her arousal in the fabric that dark, but he could feel it with his knuckles as he let them brush over her crotch in their first teasing graze. He stroked her up and down, the friction against her cunt earning a strangled whimper from her lips. Morgan cocked his head. He wanted her to be louder. He didn’t know if she was holding back by practice or by embarrassment, but he could see it in how her eyes shut tight and her lips parted in a ghost of a moan that there was a sweet sound for him to hear. ‘

A single hand remained between her legs, turning so that his palm could stroke over her clit slowly as he climbed up onto the couch. With one knee between her legs, helping his hand in keeping her already trembling legs apart, Morgan’s lips returned to her mouth in a sloppy kiss. It was as he kissed her, and her hips raised to grind against his palm, that he heard her. A soft, delicate moan that had her tilting her head back into the cushions.

He could make her louder than that, he was sure of it.

Without drawing back, Morgan’s hand fumbled between her legs with the soaked fabric of her panties. He hooked them with one finger, then a second when he couldn’t get the grip just right. Tugging them to one side, his fingers felt just how wet she had become. The slick left his fingers gliding over her folds and earning a cuss from his own lips. His jaw slacked in awe at the feeling. The effortlessness of how his fingers moved over her core, up to circle her clit and back down again before sliding them into the warmth of her cunt. Her arousal was practically dripping down his fingers, and not only could he feel the effect he had on her, he could hear it, too.

The first plunge of his fingers earned the moan that he could practically feel in his own throat. It was hot against his cheek; her face burying in her hair as he began the steady rhythm of his finger thrusts. In and out, then deeper. Emmy’s core clenched around his fingers, her wetness dripping down over his knuckles and onto the sofa below. Her body wound around his, her breath a desperate pant as he brought her closer and closer to her release with nothing more than his finder. And he would have finished her off that way, too. With just a single hand, that was until she gave an order that sounded more like a question. “Take your pants off?”

Easing up, Barron’s fingers left her core and went straight to his pants. His own movements were rushed, almost clumsy, as he pushed his slacks down to the floor, his boxers slipping down with them. Then there was a bit of a scramble between them as he knelt back down on the couch. Hair fell into his eyes, his hands moved one place and then the next on her body as her smaller and his larger tried to fit together just right. His lips found her lips. His hands stroked the soft angles of her body, traveling down where one hand took hold of his own cock. He stroked it slowly with one hand before guiding it down into the space between her legs where his fingers once were. There his hand remained, dragging the tip of his cock up and down her entrance before his hips eased forward in the gentle pressure. Emmy gasped against his lips, Morgan fighting one of his own back down into the depths of his throat as the warmth of her core welcomed him from the tip, inch by inch with each slow and deliberate rotation, until he was buried to the hilt.

The couch shifted with each thrust, banging into the wall with a hollow sound. Pillows and couch cushions fell or were pushed to the ground as Emmy reached out to brace herself on the surface, only to find no support. Her hands were then quick to find the strength of his back, her long nails digging in and then deeper as the couch fell from one of its legs, leaving the surface uneven and their bodies sliding.

He felt her startled yelp in the back of his throat, one arm wrapping around her middle while the other braced their bodies against the arm of the couch. He caught them so effortlessly, his cock still buried deep in her cunt, but they couldn’t stay there.

“Hold on to me,” he muttered to her breathlessly, and he felt Emmy’s legs coil tight around his middle.

When he was sure she was secure, her arms grasping tight around the strength of his shoulders, Morgan stood up. He lifted up with little effort, all without his cock slipping from her core. The quick, wide-eyed glance of Emmy’s eyes betrayed her, the shock of what seemed like such a smile movement all over her features. He carried her, a smile pressed to her cheek, as he listened to her gasp and moan as she bobbed along the stiffness of his cock until he had her pinned against the bare living room wall. And he fucked her against it.

The sturdiness of the wall was the only leverage he needed, his arms moving to hook around the underside of her thighs, as he guided her along his cock. Morgan watched her with a cocky confidence as her face softened, her head leaning back against the blank, white surface as her lips parted. He waited for the words to spill, but her feeble moans were all the met his ears as he fucked her there, feeling the first pulsing wave of her pleasure that sent her arousal dripping down the thick vein of his cock straight down to his balls.

It left her panting, desperate for more as her hand left his shoulder to push off the wall, “bed, the bed.”

Emmy’s bedroom was down the narrow hallway, just off the bathroom. He couldn’t see it well, wasting no time to turn the lights on, but all he could see was the silhouette of her unmade bed. The duvet wrinkled and tangled with the bodies as he lay her down, his hands finding her hips to brace himself as his hips found their steady roll once more.

He could feel the exertion overtaking his body. The sweat beading down his muscles as if he had just finished a practice on the ice, and Emmy’s body was against his. Hyper aware of every one of her movements, Barron’s head was spinning as he tossed his head back to toss the sweaty curls from his face. He was starry eyes as he felt her legs drag down the strength of his own, and gritting his teeth with each smack of his hips against hers. Then her limbs were coiling around him. Drawing him in close so she could bury her face into his neck as she moaned out the loudest she had been all night. Her lips grazed over his neck just below his ear as her core gripped around him, tight then tighter as she came undone - but Morgan couldn’t hold back himself any longer.

One final plunge, the pressure that left his body tense, had met its peak, and he was left in a daze of pleasure that consumed him so fully it almost numbed him. Morgan’s head leaned back on his shoulders, his jaw slacked as he panted out for a desperate breath. He remained deep in her until his cock stilled, his own body quivering at the feeling of her being filled so fully by him that he could feel a mixture of them dripping down his balls. It left him a mess as he fell away from her like a flimsy ribbon, her body tired not only tired from the sex, but the entire game of hockey he had played mere hours ago.

The exhaustion consumed him as he sprawled out on his side in the comfort of her bed. It’s soft embrace left him feel like he was melting away - completely dissociated from Emmy whose warmth he could no longer feel. He reached an arm out, searching for her blindly. And when he found her, she was crawling back into the bed after discarding her hosiery bra and panties in the garbage and on the floor.

Her body fit into his with ease, her warmth spread over his chest and his legs and she became the little spoon to his big. His limbs consumed her, drawing her in to share the one large pillow on the bed. Morgan buried his face in her hair, his lips peppering kisses there as she tugged the duvet around their form. There he breathed in the scent of her, his heart yet to calm in the depth of his chest - his own thoughts too loud for him to find peace.

He didn’t want to overstay his welcome. Worst of all, there was a piece of him so loud in the back of his mind that screamed that he had just screwed up everything. When he started talking to Emmy, that first message he sent was of pure interest. Morgan wanted to get to know her, not hook up with her. And that all felt at risk now that he couldn’t keep it in his pants.

It left a lump in the back of his throat as he tried to hide from his thought by placing sweet kisses on the back of her neck. The physical kept him distracted from the mental - but then Emmy spoke and put it all at ease, “Do you have practice in the morning?”

“No,” he shook his head slowly, his hair becoming a mess against the pillow - and he almost jumped as the foot of the bed suddenly shifted. Then came the gentle steps of Emmy’s cat, who was only now bold enough to venture out of her hiding spot now that things had calmed. The cat made herself comfortable at the foot of the bed.

“Grab breakfast with me, then? My treat.” Emmy offered, and Morgan couldn’t suppress the soft laugh that was lost in her hair.

Morgan’s arms coiled around her a little tighter, playfully drawing her in closer to his frame as he placed a playful nip and kiss on her bare shoulder. “I’m not letting you pay for my breakfast.”

“Fine,” she huffed so loud he could practically hear her pout in the darkness. His brow raised up, she had been quick to concede, but she he felt the wiggle of her ass against his cock teasing him. If he hadn’t taken her already, and if he had the energy, he would have fucked her again. But Morgan settled for sleep, her body perfectly pressed into his, and a smile on his lips as he heard her gentle, dreamy compromise. “It’s a date then.”

Taglist: @mp0625 @starshine-hockey-girl

#morgan barron #winnipeg jets #nhl fanfic #real people fanfiction #nhl fanfiction #nhl rpf #hockey rpf

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dirtykpopsnaps · 8 months

Note

Can I request a Rutger McGroarty snap? (it doesn’t have to be a selfie, I don’t mind at all) Smut with whatever you want. He was a part of the UMich (university of michigan) Wolverines and now plays for the Winnipeg Jets! just to help you know who he is incase you don’t

Sure thing!! It’ll be up later on tonight🥰🥰

Snap 2/5

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ao3feed-hockey · 1 year

Text

Last Christmas

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/qEijTux

by CellytheFlowshie

Act 1. Home for the holidays, Charlotte isn’t looking forward to her parent’s annual Christmas party. That is until it provides the opportunity to reconnect with her childhood friend, and AHL player, Adam Lowry.

Act. 2. Charlotte avoids going home for the holidays to avoid the reminder of last Christmas and the heartache that followed only to cross paths with Adam who is now in his Rookie season with the Winnipeg Jets. Charlotte and Adam are forced to face the reality that their friendship may be something that needs to be left in the past.

Crossposted on Tumblr.

Words: 8029, Chapters: 1/2, Language: English

Fandoms: Men's Hockey RPF

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Characters: Adam Lowry, Original Female Character(s)

Relationships: adam lowry/original character

Additional Tags: Angst, Smut, Friends to Lovers, Alcohol, the winter fic exchange 2k23, Banter

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/qEijTux

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #hockey rpf

0 notes

senditcolton · 2 years

Text

players i write for

subject to change. check back regularly & if you have a request, don’t be afraid to send it in!

some limitations: player must be on an NHL roster & player should preferably be born before the 2000′s.

key: ^ married player / * no smut

Boston Bruins

Jake DeBrusk Jeremy Swayman

Buffalo Sabres

Tyson Jost Jeff Skinner

Calgary Flames

Jacob Markstrom ^

Carolina Hurricanes

Frederik Andersen Brady Skjei ^ Andrei Svechnikov

Colorado Avalanche

Mikko Rantanen

Dallas Stars

Roope Hintz Jake Oettinger * Wyatt Johnston * Tyler Seguin ^ Craig Smith ^

Detroit Red Wings

J.T. Compher Jake Walman

Edmonton Oilers

Leon Draisaitl Zach Hyman ^*

Florida Panthers

Matthew Tkachuk

Los Angeles Kings

Pierre-Luc Dubois Adrian Kempe

Montreal Canadiens

Josh Anderson

Nashville Predators

Anthony Beauvillier

New Jersey Devils

Nico Hischier Jack Hughes *

New York Islanders

Mat Barzal Casey Cizikas ^ Matt Martin ^

New York Rangers

Chris Kreider ^ Ryan Lindgren

Philadelphia Flyers

Erik Johnson Travis Konecny ^

Pittsburgh Penguins

Sidney Crosby Ryan Graves Michael Bunting

Seattle Kraken

Andre Burakovsky * Phillipp Grubauer Jamie Oleksiak

St. Louis Blues

Colton Parayko Marco Scandella Nathan Walker ^*

Tampa Bay Lightning

Tyler Motte ^* Brayden Point ^

Toronto Maple Leafs

Joel Edmundson Mitch Marner ^ William Nylander

Vancouver Canucks

Brock Boeser Quinn Hughes Elias Petterson

Winnipeg Jets

Laurent Brossoit Adam Lowry

#navigation

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2-fast-2-curious · 1 year

Note

Can you please do another dom PLD audio

[M4F] Making you my theatre slut

[SFX][Voyeurism][Public play][Dominant][Trapped][Small girlfriend][Praise][Degradation][Public play][Thigh fucking][Resisting][CNC][I’ll leave it inside you, feel the space I’m taking inside you?]

Creator Reddit: u/JuggernautBrilliant2

#pierre luc dubois #christine recommends audios #x reader #smut #hockeyblr #hockey players #hockey smut #winnipeg jets #nhl fic #nhl fan fiction #nhl fanfiction #nhl players #nhl imagine #nhl smut #Winnipeg jets

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leafs-lover · 3 years

Note

“I know I should care about the reason why you’re naked in my bed, but I will just enjoy it for a moment.” and

“I think your parents may like me even more than you.”

With PLD, because l absolutely love your imagine with him ! ❤

I hope you like this just like my other PLD imagine❤

Boyfriend!Pierre-Luc x special celebration!reader taken from this prompt list

By clicking 'keep reading' you are agreeing that you are eighteen and are game to read smutty themes. If you don't agree to BOTH of these things, then you should keep on scrolling ;)

Coming home from that night, Pierre is on a high. He was benched after five games in Columbus before being traded to Winnipeg where he has struggled to find his game.

He hasn’t talked about it much, trying to process it all internally but you know it’s been hard. The sudden nature of the trade left you scrambling to get the required paperwork with the border closure. Eventually everything was sorted out, and you were able to join him, watching and supporting while his inconsistency ate him up.

But tonight was his first multi-point night game with the Jets. You could see the pride oozing off him during the post-game press conference and your gears began to spin, knowing your boyfriend deserved a prize. Making your way to the bedroom, you lit an excessive amount of candles covering almost every surface, playing soft and sensual music through your Alexa speaker.

You exfoliated and shaved every inch possible. You fluffed your hair and touched up your makeup, drawing on a dark wings with bright red lips. Heading to the kitchen you poured two very large glasses of wine. Opening the container on the counter, you set a few treats on a plate, leaving everything on a bedside table.

You took Phillip and Georgia on a walk, tuckering them out before bed. Once back inside you stripped off all your coat and boots, leaving them tucked in the hall closet. Next you made you way to the bedroom leaving a trail of clothes along the way. Sweater beside the door, pants on the stairs, bra hanging from the railing and underwear dangling off the door handle.

It wasn’t long before you heard the door close and him kick off his shoes. You heard him call out for you before following the breadcrumbs you left for him. With every piece of clothing he passed you heard him mumble under his breath, a French curse word falling from him lips.

By the time the doorknob turns there is a very evident pool between your legs, a spot on the duvet. Opening the door he instantly stops, eyes drinking you in. Your beautiful body, completely exposed and waiting for him.

“I know I should care about the reason why you’re naked in my bed, but I will just enjoy it for the moment,” he finally says through ragged breaths. You watch his dress pants begin to tent up, further increasing the slick between your legs. Tie hanging loosely around his neck, the top two buttons of his navy dress shirt left undone exposing a few of his chest hairs.

“You played great baby,” you smile. Crawling towards him, you rise onto your knees pressing your lips to his neck. Pulling his tie off you shove his jacket down his broad shoulders. Next, as you continue leaving red lip stains on his neck and collar, you begin working on his dress shirt.

Sucking harshly on his neck you release the buttons one at a time, until, finally it joins the growing pile of clothes beside his feet.

“Fuck, YN,” he growls when you lick up his chest, his nails digging into the skin of your ass. Nails scratching down his chest you find his belt, fumbling to release it as he rolls your naked body against his thigh.

“How do you want me baby?” you mumble against his chest, finger trailing over the ink on his bicep.

“Turn around,” he says with a wide smile, which of course you oblige. Two fingers find your clit, stroking over the wetness between your folds. His mouth connects to your earlobe, tongue circling it. Just as he is about to slide two fingers in something catches his eye and his head pops up. “Is that snickerdoodles?” he asks of the plate on the bedside table.

“Yeah, your mom made them and brought them by earlier,” you explain, them your favourite treat. “She wanted me to have them for your road trip, something about comfort food.”

“She is ridiculous,” he laughs. Every time Pierre has a road trip she brings you treats and invites you over to dinner a few times. Pierre constantly gets pictures of the two of you eating brunch, drinking wine together or napping on the couch while watching a cheesy rom-com movie.

“I think your parents like me more than you,” you laugh.

“My mom certainly does,” he laughs. Stepping away he walks over grabbing one. Taking a large bite, he steps back behind you. Pushing you forward so your face hits the smooth duvet you feel his hard member prodding at your entrance.

“These are real good,” he admits, filling his mouth with another bite.

“Are you seriously not going to share?” You whine as he guides himself in. Stilling, you hear him swallow behind you before pulling back and thrusting back in.

“Pierre,” you whine.

“Obviously I’m going to share,” he laughs. Handing the final bite to you, you feel him pull back, once again his thick member brushing against your sweet spot. Barely swallowing your food, Pierre instantly sets a fast pace. Sweat dripping down your face, surely smudging your makeup into the duvet. His nails firmly grasping your hips, yours instantly fisting the sheet, it isn’t long until he sends you free-falling over the ledge.

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jesusjoshuamorrissey · 4 years

Text

Soft Ask Day?

The world is going through a lot right now. I want to bring some happiness into the hockey community so send in some soft thoughts. Requests some blurbs, ask for a ship, rant about everything, come hang out, I’m here all day.

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wyattjohnston · 3 months

Text

breaking all my rules - adam lowry

summary: jasmine's first night in winnipeg becomes one she cannot get out of her mind.

word count: 3.4k

warning: smut, do not read if you are under 18.

note: hello @cellythefloshie! this is your fic for the winter fic exchange 2k24. i very much hope you enjoy it, even if the smut isn't as filthy as you deserve <3 thank you to @offside-the-lines for pestering me when i needed it and for being my editor, and to @matthewtkachuk as always for being my sounding board.

The drink in front of Jasmine was half empty, though it would soon be finished, and she watched the screen behind the bar where the Bucks were playing the Trail Blazers even though she had to dodge the bartender’s head occasionally when it blocked the only screen she was interested in.

There was no shortage of people in the bar. Most were watching any of the seemingly million screens airing hockey, and all were intently and enthusiastically doing so. Jasmine assumed that the Jets were playing but wouldn’t put any money on that.

Jasmine lifted her drink to her mouth, the sweet taste of her strawberry daiquiri coating her tongue and sliding down her throat effortlessly. Before she was able to put it back onto the bar, almost entirely empty, a new drink was placed down in front of her.

“From Adam,” the bartender said, pointing to the table of rowdy men who weren’t far behind her.

Jasmine looked over her shoulder to see one of the men raising his hand barely off the table. Not really a wave, but enough to let her know that he was the one who had bought her the drink. She nodded at him, letting a smile transform her face. His own smile followed suit.

“He plays hockey,” the bartender revealed, as though it was the hottest piece of gossip in Winnipeg. “You should cash in on that.”

She turned back to the bartender, a wry smile forming on her face as she said, “That sounds like a fucking good reason to stay away if ever I’ve heard one.”

She was left alone to drink her new cocktail and watch her basketball game, while intermittently glancing over her shoulder back at Adam. With every look back, he seemed bigger than the last, he was noticeably the tallest out of everyone he was with, and Jasmine couldn’t help but drink him in from head to toe.

He noticed.

She didn’t know if it had always been his intention to walk over to her at that moment, but he was moving toward her regardless. Jasmine turned back to the bar but kept the stool in just the right position to know that his presence wouldn’t be unwelcome. She only knew he had reached her when she felt a heavy hand on the back of the stool, turning her towards him.

He stepped into her personal space with ease, one of his legs pressing in between hers ever so slightly. It took all her willpower to not react, to not lean forward as she so suddenly and so desperately wanted to.

“What’s your name?” he asked, his hand brushing against hers on the bar.

Jasmine smiled up at him, watching as his eyes darted back and forth between her mouth and her cleavage.

“Tomorrow morning,” Jasmine asked, “are you going to tell me that you’ll call me?”

Adam nodded easily, quickly, without any thought. “Yeah, of course.”

Her eye roll was involuntary. “Are you really going to call me?”

He laughed unabashedly at being caught out, “Probably not, no.”

“My name’s Minnie.”

“That’s not your real name.”

“It’s close enough.”

There was a silence, Adam’s hand still brushing against hers. His smile was infectious now that she was no longer actively fighting it.

“I’m Adam,” he said, lifting his hand and taking a step back, away from her, “but you knew that already.”

“I was told.”

He took her hand, guiding her off the barstool. He was already leading her out of the bar when he asked, “Your place?”

“It’s a hotel room.”

“We can go to mine then. I’m not going to a hotel room in a city where everyone knows who I am.”

Jasmine couldn’t contain her snort, “Everyone in the city? A bit arrogant, don’t you think?”

Adam was smiling and shrugging silently. It was as easy as anything to follow him out of the bar and into a cab, not worrying about the light snow that had started to fall. The cab driver instantly recognised Adam, starting a conversation about hockey that Jasmine could barely follow. Adam was sending her looks throughout the entire drive—apologetic with a lingering arrogance that Jasmine was loath to admit she found attractive.

It was worth it for one night.

The exterior of the house they pulled up to was nothing as extravagant as she’d been expecting for a professional athlete. It was undoubtedly a nice house—much nicer than anything Jasmine ever hoped to be able to afford—just less than what she’d imagined. Not that she’d been imagining much more than what it would feel like to have his hands all over her.

“Do you want anything to drink, or…?” Adam asked when they were standing inside his front door and, rather awkwardly, removing their coats.

“Why waste time?”

Reaching up to grab him by the collar of his shirt was the easiest decision Jasmine had made in a while. He was so tall, and, while it had been part of everything she’d had until that moment t, it was certainly more noticeable when he was leaning over her to press his mouth against hers.

She had no choice but to wrap her arms around his neck to draw him closer, to give herself leverage. The shock of his hands on her thighs wrapping her legs around his waist was enough to elicit a squeal and a giggle.

He smirked against her mouth.

When he pressed her up against the wall behind her, Jasmine used it as leverage to push their bodies together while she chased his mouth and the taste of whiskey within it. His hair was the perfect length to play with, the perfect length to wrap her fingers in and tug; his own little gasp gave him away.

They were moving before Jasmine even realised, though it wasn’t for long, as Adam set her down on the staircase. Her head tilted, a silent question about what she was supposed to do next, when his hands—his very big hands—were on her waist again to spin her around. There was no missing the glint in his eyes.

The very second her back was to him, there was a playful tap on her ass that had her running up the stairs with an unexpected giggle. She heard something hit the floor and looked quickly over her shoulder to see that Adam’s sweater was gone so she pulled hers off with no thought given to making it look sexy and threw it somewhere near the top of the stairs. She had plans she did not want to delay.

His bedroom was close, his body hot behind hers as he guided her to it with his lips pressed to her neck and his hands pulling at her shirt to pull it from her jeans. When his fingertips met the skin of her stomach, the electricity that ran through her was enough for her to know the night was going to be something she would remember for a while.

Jasmine’s eyes fluttered shut as Adam pulled her shirt over her head and wasted no time by removing her bra. His mouth moved up her spine, hitting spots she had never known could feel so good with such precision and eagerness that she reached behind her, clawing at his own shirt desperate for the skin-on-skin that would come with it.

Adam got the message. He kissed the nape of her neck one last time and turned her around. Her eyes were wide as she looked up at him, desperation filling every part of her body and only getting stronger when he effortlessly lifted her and dropped her onto the bed.

His shirt quickly disappeared, leaving Jasmine even more speechless than she already was as she scanned every inch of newly bare skin for the first time. She reached out, fingers brushing gently over his skin until she reached his belt.

Looking at Adam’s face was too much, the want in his eyes was more than she could handle, so she focused on unbuckling his belt and helping him remove his pants. The memory of his muscles clenching under her lips as she kissed the skin just about the buckle would be burnt into her brain forever, There was no time to waste, it seemed, because the second Adam’s pants were off he was pulling hers down her legs in one swift motion before he was prowling on the bed leaning over her.

The next time their mouths met, Jasmine arched off the mattress, the skin-on-skin everything she had been hoping for. It made her even more aware of him surrounding her, his aura taking up the entire room and encompassing even more of her headspace than just the feel of his mouth against hers.

The kiss lasted nowhere near as long as she wanted, with Adam moving to start kissing down her chest, between her breasts, nipping at her skin as he went. She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him as close as she could, just to relieve some of the pressure between her thighs that was only building more when he cupped her breast and his thumb brushed over her nipple so lightly she barely felt it, and yet she couldn’t feel anything else when he did it again.

He was possessed, leaving no part of her unkissed, no part of her untouched. She could see–feel—how hard he was, and she could imagine he could feel how wet she was with how close she was pulling him.

An involuntary whine left Jasmine’s mouth when Adam’s hand moved away from her breast, she instantly missed the electric shocks that ran through her every time he touched her nipple. She arched her back to chase the feeling, the sensation,, completely unable to form words, but forgot what she was aiming for when his fingers brushed the hair out of her face and his mouth drew closer to hers.

The gasp that left her was met with an appreciative grunt from Adam, as the kiss deepened and his hand moved, pushing her body back from where she’d arched up so that he could finally touch her where she so desperately wanted—needed—to be touched.

Jasmine woke first the next morning and had to forcibly extricate herself from Adam’s sleep-tight grip.

She stared into the bathroom and wondered how strange it would be to use his shower while he slept. She decided against it, if only to avoid the awkwardness of him waking and her still being there. She wanted to be gone before he had any opportunities to pretend he actually was going to call her, despite their conversation the night before. It was always easier to just leave before she had to talk.

Being careful not to rustle the bed, Jasmine inhaled deep into her stomach before she planted her feet on the floor and searched the room for her clothes. She definitely had some clothes littering his hallway—her coat and sweater were nowhere in sight—but she grabbed what she could, cradling them to her chest so that she could change in the hallway with less risk of waking him up.

The bedroom door creaked ever so slightly as she pulled it open just enough to slip through, and she held her breath when there was movement behind her. Adam didn’t rouse, though, and she relaxed enough to find the remainder of her clothes and get dressed standing in his living room.

She couldn’t help but take a look around while standing there, taking in the little things that showed he was rich—namely that nothing looked like it was falling apart. Nothing even looked second-hand. Her bank account was shrieking.

Jasmine stopped in the kitchen on her way to the front door, desperate for a glass of water. She pondered, longingly, what it must be like to cook in such a large space with appliances that looked like they’d rarely been used.

“D’ya want breakfast?”

An unholy shriek left her at the sudden interruption, and she spun around with a heaving chest and one hand still brushing over the stove. Adam hadn’t made a noise until he spoke. Unless she’d been so caught up in dreaming about her dream house that she hadn’t heard him. Both were equally as plausible.

One of his hands patted the kitchen counter loudly, and Jasmine’s attention was drawn to it, images of their night involuntarily filling her mind and making her catch her breath.

“No,” she said breathlessly. “I’m going. It was nice to—thank you for—Goodbye.”

“It was nice to. And you’re welcome. Goodbye, Minnie.”

Jasmine nodded, short and stiff, before she had to squeeze past the small space he’d left between himself and the counter. Her breathing was already laboured when his very large, very experienced hand caught her wrist.

“You should give me your number.”

Taking a moment to control herself, to remind herself that she didn’t give out her phone number to one-night stands for the express purpose of keeping them as one-night stands no matter how good said one night stand was. She gently pulled her hand out of his grip and to her side and was able to keep her resolve even if she didn’t truly want to.

Two things were true: Jasmine didn’t like repeat performances with guys she met in bars, and Jasmine could not stop thinking about Adam.

Even as she flew home to Baltimore to pack her life into a U-Haul, even as she drove 1,500 miles to Winnipeg, even as she started her new job, he was all she could think about.

It certainly didn’t help that ice hockey was slowly but surely taking over her life, as much as she had tried to prevent that from happening. She was coming to learn that the Winnipeg Jets were a religion in the city—a cult, even—and that meant seeing the face of their captain almost everywhere she looked.

As it turned out he didn’t just play hockey. If the Jets were a religion, he may well have been their God.

Their God who was, despite being everywhere, was also exactly nowhere.

“So, which one is it?” Elyse asked, her head tilted towards the group of Jets players huddled around a pool table.

“What do you mean?” Jasmine played coy; her eyes fixed squarely on Elyse.

“We’ve been to this stupid bar every weekend for two months—but only on weekends the Jets are home—and you all but stare at them the entire time we’re here. Which one do you want to take you home? Because I will go ask him for you right now so we can go anywhere else in this fucking city.”

Jasmine faltered, took a look at the group, and shook her head. “You can’t.”

“Is it one of the married ones?” asked Taylor, interjecting suddenly and very loudly from where she’d been leaning back in her chair and watching the conversation. “Because if it is, we’re definitely going somewhere else next week.”

“It’s not. You just can’t.”

Elyse and Taylor both rolled their eyes; Elyse left to get another drink and left Taylor to judge Jasmine alone.

Jasmine knew it was ridiculous to insist that they keep coming back in the hopes that Adam would return. Especially when she had put on such a show of not seeing him again. She just couldn’t work out for the life of her why he wasn’t showing up when so many of his teammates were there every weekend.

She had already decided it would be the last night; Taylor’s words just solidified it.

The conversation moved on, an easy and natural shift into complaining about clients they’d dealt with that day. Jasmine participated as much as she could while her head was still very much in Adam’s bedroom.

She didn’t even wait for a break in the conversation to tell Elyse, “We’ve been coming back because he’s never been here.”

“Huh?” Elyse mumbled into her drink.

“Adam Lowry. Walking this way,” Taylor said as she pretended to be doing anything but watching him.

Elyse’s face immediately morphed into a delighted and devious expression that Jasmine never wanted to see again, especially directed at her. The situation was undoubtedly made worse by the fact that Adam was there, that he’d finally shown up and, even more so, was allegedly walking towards her.

She braced herself for him, holding her breath as she waited. She didn’t want to give anything away to her friends, lest they use it against her, but she also couldn’t predict what Adam would say or do.

If he was even walking her way.

It really didn’t feel like he was. She had to inhale before she passed out.

“He went to the bar,” Taylor said, her eyes moving rapidly between Jasmine and the bar. “It is him, though. Isn’t it?”

Jasmine shook her head, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“God, you’re a horrible liar.”

It wasn’t any use denying it. She could only imagine what her face looked like in that moment.

The girls talked around her, waiting her out as she tried to shake off the strange feeling in her stomach. Hurt? Not really. Disappointment? More likely.

She was startled when a drink was placed in front of her. A strawberry daiquiri.

“I heard you’ve been attempting to stalk me, Minnie.”

Jasmine couldn’t be certain if her cheeks paled or went red. She could, however, be certain that a shiver ran down her spine due to the cool hand that brushed against her neck before it settled on her shoulder.

“Oh, good,” Elyse beamed. “So, they did notice that we’re always here. It wasn’t for nothing.”

“You should have just given me your number when I asked,” Adam said.

Jasmine was just thankful he wasn’t responding to Elyse. Or trying to get any information he could from her. Jasmine knew she would readily give it.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see he was watching her carefully, his hand a steady weight on her shoulder. She should have given him her number, but she already felt pathetic enough for having dragged her friends to the same bar for weeks on end in the hopes that she would see him again. From what she could tell by his expression, he didn’t seem put off by the idea even if he had called it “attempted stalking.”

Then, just before he disappeared, he asked her to find him when she was ready to leave.

Well.

Ignoring her friends at that point was useless, Elyse and Taylor had never looked so interested or so devious. They didn’t let up until Jasmine’s daiquiri was emptied and she was psyching herself up to head over to Adam; at that point, they managed to control themselves and focused on boosting her confidence. It was much needed to quell the nerves that were running through her body.

Not looking at him and his table was crucial to maintaining her nerves. She was desperate to know if he was looking at her, but if she caught him looking back she’d melt into the chair she was sitting on.

Jasmine didn’t need to be looking, though. Not when Elyse and Taylor were giving her a play-by-play of everything they were seeing.

One more daiquiri later, Jasmine made her decision. She felt good; she felt loose. Without a single word to her friends, she rose to her feet and crossed the room to Adam.

The table of men fell quiet when she got close, their silence noticeable compared to the once raucous noise. Adam was, in fact, staring right at her, and he hadn’t stopped since she started moving; Jasmine felt the weight of his attention right in her core.

She didn’t stop at the table—didn’t stop at all—just made eye contact with Adam long enough to wink before she headed straight for the door. He was standing next to her before she even stepped foot outside.

His hollering teammates echoed in her mind even with the door shut behind them.

As they stood outside in the chilly March air, she said, “Jasmine. My name’s Jasmine.”

Adam put his arm around her shoulder, pulling her close.

“Can I call you Minnie?”

“Nobody else does, really.”

“Sounds great, then. It’s just for me.”

if you made it this far, i would very much like to hear what you thought about this fic

#adam lowry fic #adam lowry imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #hockey fic #homemade fic #the winter fic exchange 2k24 #jets fic

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going-full-shmoo · 4 years

Text

Thirst Night

Listen...I know I have a lot of blurbs and stuff to work on...but I’m bored...I have nothing better to do...so...

LETS THIRST!

● Send me ●

thoughts

blurbs of yours

headcanons

anything!

** Note: if I do not feel comfortable with something it will be deleted **

LETS GET THIRSTING!

#nhl imagine #nhl imagines #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #nhl smut #thirst night #anaheim ducks #colorado avalanche #buffalo sabres #philadelphia flyers #columbus blue jackets #vancouver canucks #dallas stars #boston bruins #new york rangers #new york islanders #pittsburgh penguins #winnipeg jets #calgary flames

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hookingminor · 3 years

Note

Can you please write with Pierre Luc Dubois, fluff “have you ever thought about how much worse our lives would be without each other?” and smut “next time we get into an argument, i’m reminding you that i took your virginity.” Thank you 😘😘

43. “Have you ever thought about how much worse our lives would be without each other?”

10. “Next time we get into an argument, i’m reminding you that i took your virginity.”

warnings (18+): mentions of sex/loss of virginity

Pierre had been in your life for as long as you could remember. You two had been inseparable as children and throughout middle school, but the drifting started once you’d reached high school.

You were still friends, though. Your parents hung out frequently and you saw him enough in school, but he was on the path to professional hockey and you were heading towards the local university.

Feelings changed as did bodies. Pierre was no longer the scrawny boy you thought of as a brother but now a man whose figure had definitely filled out. Being sixteen had changed your view of him, painting Pierre in a romantic light rather than a brotherly one, but you were no longer close enough to do anything about it.

You ran in different crowds. He always skipped class, you hated his friends, but there was too much history for you to let him go completely.

When he got drafted and moved to Columbus, you thought your crush would fizzle out if you didn’t have to see him all the time, but it did the exact opposite. Your father made a point to catch every Blue Jackets game, often getting together with Pierre’s father to watch them. You couldn’t forget him if you tried.

You weren’t sure what had changed that first summer after. Pierre came back after his first season with the Eagles and you came back from your first year of college. Without the confines of high school around you anymore, you easily fell back into being friends again. The only difference was that instead of teasing you, Pierre’s chirps turned more flirtatious than normal.

Friends turned into a fleeting summer romance, and after sneaking out late one night to the lake, you woke up tangled in the bed of his truck. Your clothes were strewn in the corners, only your bare skin against each other underneath the thick covers Pierre had decorated the bed with.

He went into the night hoping to take your relationship to the next level, and you had been ready to give him the one thing no one else would ever have.

It was uncomfortable at first, awkward even, but Pierre had eased your nerves and taken his time. He was the perfect gentleman, caring and sweet, wanting to make your first time worth it. And it was.

The rest of the summer was spent rolling around in bed sheets or the back of Pierre’s car, but you knew it wouldn’t last forever. You didn’t ask for more, Pierre didn’t ask you to be his girlfriend, and he was off to Columbus again when autumn came back around.

You weren’t heartbroken or anything. You knew your lives were too different for anything permanent between you two, but that didn’t stop you from falling into his bed every time he came back in the summer. A few months of heated passion. That’s all you had.

Things changed again when Pierre was traded to Winnipeg, and suddenly he was back in your life again. Year round, not just for the summer.

He didn’t treat you like a meaningless fling. You thought he would pull away since he was going to be around more often, but the first hug he pulled you into when you visited him after the trade did the exact opposite. It was middle school all over again except you were ten years older.

The sex became less frequent as you began spending more of your time with him just hanging out rather than ripping each other’s clothes off. You had movie nights, went to his games, chirped his bad fashion taste, and made early morning trips to the market.

The upcoming season sent Pierre’s nerves through the roof.

It was his first full season with the Jets, and he was still in the middle of finding his place on the team. Not to mention his whole family was in Winnipeg, and it felt more stressful trying to impress them when they were just down the road and not hundreds of miles away.

And as his friend, you packed up your father’s truck with all the necessities for a night away: blankets, pillows, cheap beer, favorite snacks, and your bluetooth speaker.

You nearly dragged Pierre out of his house and into the truck, driving him out of the city and to that same lake you used to sneak away to when you were kids. Pierre protested the entire way, claiming he needed to be getting ready for the season, but you only turned the music up louder every time he opened his mouth.

He finally quieted down when you parked the car on the beach.

“I haven’t been here in years,” Pierre said after you opened the tailgate and propped yourself on it. He joined you and took the beer you offered from your hands, cracking it open and taking a long swig.

“I think the last time I was here I was with you,” you nodded.

The lake was quiet, as it usually was after sunset, the only sounds between you were the cicadas and hushed rolling of the waves. Soft music played over your speaker, and you reveled in the silence for a few minutes.

“Have you ever thought about how much worse our lives would be without each other?” Pierre asked after a while.

Cocking your head towards him, you raised your brows. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, I was just thinking,” he shrugged. “You’ve been in my life for as long as I can remember. Not a lot of people would know how to get me out of my own head like you.”

The last part caused a smile to tug at your lips, and you bumped your shoulder against his. “Not a lot of people would be able to put up with me, so I guess I’m pretty glad to have you in my life too.”

“The first time we were out here,” you continued on, “I was so fucking nervous. Like, so jittery and anxious, and you helped me out then. This is me returning the favor.”

“No offense, but I don’t think the situations are comparable,” Pierre chuckled. The first time you were out here, he took your virginity. All he was doing was moving to a new school, basically.

“No,” you agreed, “but you’re my friend, so I’m trying to help.”

“I was nervous that first time too, if you must know,” Pierre commented, and you sent him a curious glance.

“Why? I know that wasn’t your first time,” you wondered.

“It wasn’t, but I’d never…” Pierre paused to try and gather his thoughts. “I didn’t care about the other girls like I cared about you. I wanted you to feel special and I didn’t want to hurt you or anything.”

“Well, if you must know,” you repeated his words. “It was about as perfect as a first time could have been.”

“I thought you were going to hate me when I left,” he added.

“I could never hate you, P,” you said. “You were the first guy I had a crush on, first guy I probably loved, actually. You were my best friend before you were… my first time. I don’t think I’m capable of hating you.”

“You were the first girl I ever loved,” he said. “But it’s good to know you could never hate me since I was your first.” He had a teasing smile on his face when he said that last part, and you bumped his shoulder harder this time, causing him to slosh his beer.

“That’s not what I said.” You rolled your eyes, but his grin didn’t falter.

“Next time we get into an argument, I’m reminding you that I took your virginity,” Pierre said. “Since, you know, you can’t hate me.”

“Never said I couldn’t try to hate you,” you emphasized. “Keep it up or I might be tempted to test that theory.”

Slinging an arm over your shoulders, he pulled you into his side. “I don’t think you’re capable of it,” he said, agreeing with your previous statement. “And because I love you, I’ll let it drop.”

“Wow, so courteous of you.”

“I know. I’m just filled with good manners.”

A few more minutes of silence passed.

“You know, I’m still feeling a little anxious…” Pierre started, nuzzling his nose against your cheek as his lips brushed over your jaw. “Wanna help me calm down?”

And, well, who were you to say no? You did have a favor to return.

#pierre luc dubois #pierre luc dubois imagine #nhl imagines #hockey imagine #my writing #requests #blurbs #jets13 #2k blurb weekend

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puckngrind · 4 years

Text

What’s In A Name: 10 - J. Toews

Chapter 10.

Where we left off: Bekah came to Chicago after the season and told Jon not only that she loved him too but that she took a sabbatical from work.

Warnings: smut, language

Word Count: 3,485

Series Masterlist ) Puck ‘n Grind’s masterlist

Changing.

“Rebekah your brain running on over drive woke me up.” Jon’s groggy voice surprised her.

“What!” Bekah almost yells. It was three in the morning and email from her boss asking her intentions on returning had caused Bekah to run a pro and con list in her head.

“Want to talk about it Baby?” Jon kissed her shoulder feeling the heat from the Arizona sun still radiating off her.

“No go back to bed you have training thing to do tomorrow morning then hiking.” Bekah moves her head back to capture his lips.

“It’s about work isn’t it?” Jon sits up.

“How did you...”. Bekah stammered out.

“Beks, I can count to three. Your sabbatical is three months long. It started mid April and July starts tomorrow. He probably wants to know if his brilliant marketing consultant is coming back or if he has to replace her. Yes?” Jon is now leaning against the head board looking down at Bekah.

“Yes. That’s exactly what I’m thinking about. I swear you read my email or mind.” Bekah bites the inside of her cheek and sits up to lay her head on her boyfriend’s tan chest from the summer of jet setting.

“And you are torn? You aren’t going to hurt my feelings by saying yes, Babe.” Jon’s hand glides up and down her spine.

“Yes.” She breathes out.

“So let’s talk about it. Money is off the table. It shouldn’t be a determining factor because well, you haven’t gotten paid all summer and it hasn’t been an issue. So my first question, do you miss your job?” Jon feels Bekah tense under his touch. “Honestly.”

“No, I miss lunch with Rin but not my actual job.” Bekah realizes the last time she saw Brynn was when Jon surprised her in April by doing a joint birthday party. He rented out the entire movie theater and ran old movies from when the two were born. His parents and brother flew down from Winnipeg. The big surprise was that he even found a way to get Bekah’s family, Derek and Brynn to Chicago without her knowing. She couldn’t believe her eyes when they walked in. How he managed to pull it off she was still unsure of.

“Do you miss Columbus?” Jon braced himself this time for her answer knowing the city captured his girlfriend’s heart in a way no other place had.

“Not as much as I thought I would honestly but then again we’ve been moving around so much it is hard to miss a single place. Maybe when the season started...”

“You could go home whenever you wanted Beks. Long roadies, sick of me, whatever... you running my foundation would give you that freedom to make as many trips as you wanted.”

“Okay. I don’t hate that.” Bekah breathes in Jon’s smell and runs her hand down his abdomen.

“Last question, for now... if you went home would you miss me?” Jon bites his lip because saying that as calmly as he did took every ounce of media training he’s ever had. The silence was killing him. In the two and a half months since he picked up Bekah and she declared her love and sabbatical he realized he didn’t want to go back to the way life was without her by his side. He would never ask her to leave her life behind but he desperately wanted to start a life with her in Chicago.

“Yes Jon. I’d miss you.” Bekah whispered and he felt a tear on his chest.

“Beks, why are you crying?” He lifts her face up to see.

“Because I know the answer is I should quit my job. Let go of my lease and fully be with you.” She breathes out.

“Okay... so why the tears?” Jon smiles at her.

“Mixed emotions honestly. Happy tears about committing to this life with you but sad tears about leaving home behind.” Bekah sniffles.

“Sweetheart, I get that completely. When I left home it was hard as hell but I did it to be where I am today. And I’d be lying if I said I haven’t worried you leave me and going home.”

“Tae!” Bekah sits completely up and looks at him. “Seriously!”

“Well we are being honest here, right? I know you love me but it’s hard to leave home.” He feels the sting of a tear in his eyes and blinks them away.

“And you were what 15 when you did and I’m 30. Makes me seem ridiculous!” Bekah runs her thumb over his cheek. “I told him I would let him know by the end of the week. Now let’s try to sleep since your crazy ass wants to hike at lightning pace on your own damn holiday! Don’t you know your nation’s birthday is meant for hanging out on the lakes and day drinking?” Bekah laughs.

“You are dating the wrong Canadian if that’s how you want to spend the 1st Babe.” Jon laughs.

“Oh, I’m definitely dating the right one...” Bekah swings her leg up and over his body and captures his lips.

“I’m glad to hear that.” Jon pulls her in as the conversation comes to a halt.

Hiking with Jon got easier not because he slowed down but he was now aware he needed to take more breaks and take in the views as they climbed. By mid week, Jon was gone for almost the whole day checking in with his training team. He kissed the top of her head as he left and made her promise not to do anything irrational while he was gone. By lunch Bekah decided to FaceTime Brynn.

“Your tan is amazing and I don’t exactly see any lines there Bekah. Plus I don’t recognize this top.” Brynn jokes taking in the off the shoulder top Jon bought her while they were in Manitoba and sun kissed skin from a summer of beaches and lakes and now Sedona.

“He asked me what my plans were.” Bekah sips the iced coffee she finally mastered while her and Jon were in the Bahamas in May.

“Please tell me you told that hot ass man of yours you love him more than you love Columbus.” Brynn takes in Bekah’s face which scrunches up at her comment. “Oh my! Rebekah Pierce! Are you serious?”

“Rin, it’s not that simple.” Bekah replies.

“Let me guess, he told you that you could come home whenever you wanted because of his schedule during the season and you told him you would think about it?” Brynn’s feisty attitude noticeable even via FaceTime.

“Did you talk to Jon?” Bekah furrows her brow.

“No, I just know my best friend and if you think I’m going to let you make this horrible decision to leave the best thing that has ever happened to you for me and home, you friend would be delusional.”

“I’m pretty sure I heard him talking to his realtor about a condo on the Gold Coast the other day too.” Bekah recalls walking in on Jon and his look of being caught.

“Oh because his Lincoln Park mansion isn’t enough to start a life with you. Bekah... I’m gonna type out the resignation letter for you. That way you can jump all in on the Jonathan Toews Foundation and all his gardening stuff... plus, well, jump on Jonathan Toews too.” Brynn laughs as Bekah’s face turns red.

“Oh wow Rin.” Bekah rests her head on her fist and sighs. “You should see him with the kids. We did a school tour before we left Chicago. He’s really got a passion for this.” Bekah remembers their tour in May.

“And I’m still not hearing how Columbus is better? And friend, his passion for you is 1,000 times more than that program. I saw the pictures and I see the way he looks at you. There is absolutely no comparison.” Brynn smiles seeing the way her best friend’s face contorts with her truth bomb. The ladies hear the door.

“He’s back. I’ll talk to you later.” Bekah pulls her hand up to wave.

“Write the damn letter Bekah!” Brynn shouts before hanging up.

“How’s Brynn? Convince you to stay with me yet?” Jon’s sweaty lips dip down to kiss Bekah’s forehead.

“I swear you two talk.” Bekah looks up. “Oh, Honey. You are so so sweaty.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna shower, care to join me?” Jon winks at her and holds out his hand. She laughs but takes it.

“I love this shower.” Bekah states as she steps in. The waterfall shower with side jets felt amazing on her body after long hikes.

“Same but only because it’s easier to do this.” Jon pulls her body up and wraps Bekah’s legs around him. The unglazed rock like tile making it easier to pin her body to the wall without slipping. His lips attached to her neck as she moans out. Bekah’s hands running through his wet hair as she pulls up his body and slides down onto his length. Their lips meeting and his tongue asking permission to explore. Bekah gasping when Jon hits her g spot and doesn’t let up. Each climaxing quickly and in unison. Both panting for air as the waterfall splashes over their joined bodies. Jon slowly lowers Bekah down and grabs the shampoo without saying a word. Bekah rests her head on his chest while he massages the shampoo into a lather. He stands her up and grabs the loofah to wash her body peppering sweet kisses as the soap runs off. She returns the favor and giggles as he kisses her chest while he bends over in order for her to reach the crown of his head.

Jon leaves the shower to retrieve the towels wrapping Bekah up and patting herself dry. “So how can I help your decision Beks?” He questions while pulling a tank and some shorts on.

“What?” The earlier conversation not in Bekah’s head.

“About your job and life really. How can I help?” Jon looks down at her while she puts on her clothes.

“Want to just click send for me?” Bekah nods towards the open laptop. “I’ve written the email effectively quitting my position. I just haven’t actually sent it yet.” She runs her fingers through her hair.

“And what’s stopping you?” Jon swallows hard. Not knowing if he wants the answer.

“I mean, I know you can provide for me. I want to be with you and home and you already said I can have the best of both worlds with your job the way it is but Jon...” Bekah’s emotion catches in her throat.

Jon closes the space between them and holds her face in his hands. “But what Beks? What ever it is let’s talk about it.” He felt so close to having the one thing he’s been dreaming about forever.

“But I’ve been able to take care of myself since I was 18. I’ve not needed anyone to take care of me. If I don’t have a job I would NEED you to take care of me.” She closes her eyes in the realization that that was in fact exactly what she was holding on to and and not the whole leaving home aspect.

“So you need an income? Joint bank account? Control of something?” Jon slides his thumbs over her pink cheeks.

“I don’t know.” She was being honest. “I need you though.” Jon envelops her in his arms.

“I need you too Beks and if a joint account or an income from the foundation is what you need we will set it up as soon as we get back to Chicago tomorrow.” Jon kisses her head.

“Can you click send because I cannot?” Bekah whispered.

“Wanna do it together?” Bekah nodded and Jon lead her the desk. She sat on his lap and clicked opened the draft. “Ready?” His hand covered hers and then she clicks without Jon moving his fingers.

“There I did it. Officially an unemployed Chicagoan.” Bekah laughs and Jon joined her while kissing her shoulder.

The next few weeks Bekah packed up her old apartment with Jon. They shipped her clothes and a few items to Chicago and donated everything else. “What are we going to do with my car?” Bekah asks while the two were sitting at dinner with Brynn and Derek.

“We could keep it here for you if you want?” Brynn pipes up eyeing Derek in some silent couple conversation. “That way you have a vehicle when you are home to see your parents or whatever.”

“That actually sounds great.” Bekah eyes Jon who realized she didn’t need an additional car in Chicago but didn’t want to say anything. He simply nodded and smiled seeing how relaxed his girlfriend seemed since quitting. The conversation flowed over the evening. The girls discussing trips to Chicago and home while Derek and Jon talked shop. The next day Jon and Bekah went to see her parents before heading back to Chicago.

Mr. and Mrs. Pierce had lots of questions about their relationship, if they were moving too quickly, and logistics of Jon’s job. Bekah kind of expected them to since she knew her mom was chomping at the bit in Chicago for more answers. Keeping Jon essentially a secret from her family over the last few years was probably a mistake but she knew her mother wouldn’t approve of her lack of commitment especially to a man in the spotlight like Jon. By the end of dinner she felt Jon answered the questions well and her parents were interested in getting to know him. It was progress and she was thankful.

Bekah experienced her first Blackhawks conversation and enjoyed watching Jon in his element with his fans. Several even recognized her and asked for selfies which threw her for a loop but she obliged. August and September Jon was in training mode split between Winnipeg and Chicago. After the season ended the way it did, Jon was determined 2018-2019 would be the season. Bekah settled into a routine with his foundation and started getting to know some of Jon’s teammates and their significant others. She thought she would be overwhelmed but the way Jon was introducing her to his life made her more comfortable by the week.

Alyssa Saad and Bekah immediately hit it off. Jon was intentional with them being the first official introductions. Alyssa met Bekah in Columbus while Brandon played for the Blue Jackets. Jon and Bekah had the newly married couple over for dinner before training camp. As they sat down in the dining room Bekah’s eyebrows knit together. “What’s that look for Beks?” Jon questions.

“We never eat in here.” Bekah looks around.

“What do you mean?” Jon smirks.

“We have almost always eaten on the roof except for maybe Christmas with your family. Yes. Always on the roof.” Bekah sips her wine and looks at Jon.

“Oh Jonny’s roof set up is nice. I can see why!” Brandon pipes up.

“Yeah, that was on purpose.” Jon looks down at his plate then to Bekah who had a bewildered look on her face.

“Care to explain that, Jonny.” Bekah points her fork at him and circles it around.

“Well, the first time it wasn’t but pretty much every other meal was intentionally up there. To remind you how much you love the city and forgot about the massive ass kitchen that you physically tense up in every time you set foot in it.” Jon’s eyes float towards the kitchen then to their guests who are talking to each other through their looks then Bekah.

“Make me fall in love with the city eh?” Her midwestern accent sounding funny using a word that effortlessly slips off Jon’s tongue.

“Ope... yup.” Jon laughs.

“Hey, she’s not the only midwestern in this room Toews!” Brandon chuckles making everyone laugh. Dinner finished with more laughter and they said their goodbyes to the Saad’s.

“Alyssa told me the girls are planning on wearing their jackets for the home opener. And wants to make sure I don’t dodge out of any pictures.” Bekah wraps her arms around Jon as he finishes cleaning up in the sink.

“Yeah. I heard they were not happy I didn’t introduce you for the Preds series so you could be in the pic then. Makes sense she wants to include you.” Jon flips around and leans on the counter. His hands cup Bekah’s face. “You know you don’t have to do any of team things you don’t want to. None of it will hurt my feelings if you decide to take the less active role.” Jon’s hands wander down her body until his hands are under her ass. Jon hoists her up to sit on the counter behind her then kisses her lips tenderly.

“Thanks. For saying that Tae. I want to do all the things but maybe not all at once. Feels rushed.” Bekah moans as Jon sucks along her collarbone. “But clearly you have been playing a very long game there Mr. Toews. Intentionally eating up on the roof.” Bekah leans back as Jon presses his body between her legs.

“I figured if I alone wasn’t a solid selling point to spend more time here and you clearly feel overwhelmed in here...” Jon leans back to look at Bekah and motions to the kitchen. “Then why not use the selling point for why I bought this place to sell you on Chicago... and me.” Jon pulls Bekah’s body into him causing her to whimper.

“Jon, we make meals in here are we seriously going to have sex on your counter?” Bekah places her hand on his chest.

“I was thinking yes but fine... and our counter, Baby.” Jon pulls Bekah off the counter and steps out of his shorts and briefs while carrying her to the couch. Sitting down she feels his rock hard cock on her clothed core. “Better?” He whispers out while pulling her dress over her head and then pulling his shirt off. “Merde.” He whispers as his fingers make their way to her hips. Bekah slowly rocking her hips along his length.

“What Tae?” She breathes out then props herself up to look at him.

“I should have removed these before I picked you up”’ Jon pulls as the band of her panties.

“Oh! Please hold.” Bekah slinks out from under Jon and stands on the couch with her legs on either side of his frame then wiggles out of her underwear. Jon takes the proximity to her core to his advantage and licks up her folds while she is still standing causing Bekah’s legs to shake. “Tae.” She half cries and half moans out. He looks up with a look of satisfaction.

“What? My favorite dessert was right there I couldn’t help myself. C’mere.” Jon sees the red flashing on his girlfriend’s face as he lowers her onto his length. “Sorry if that startled you.” He whispers in her ear as she starts to rock her hips towards him.

“Felt good... this feels better.” She presses her lips to his and rocks harder causing Jon’s hips to jolt up. They build a rhythm together.

“Come on, My Love.” Jon whispers as he pulls Bekah’s body further into him. She feels her body clinch around Jon’s as he thrusts deep inside of her. Panting she lays her head on his shoulder and his hand comes up to run his fingers through her hair. He moves their bodies so he’s leaning against the back of the couch.

“Can we talk about the home opener and well all the home games?” Bekah whispers after catching her breath.

“If you want or we can go shower and talk in bed.” Jon kisses the top of her head.

“That’s fine I just don’t know if you expect me go to all what 30 some home games.” Bekah stands and reaches out her hands to help Jon up. He stands and pulls her into his now sweaty body.

“41 and no. You don’t have to but you can if you want. Completely up to you.” He dips down and kisses her while scooping her into his arms.

“I can walk Tae.” Bekah kicks her legs.

“Just call this an at home workout... m’kay?” Jon makes his way to the stairs.

“Fine fine. You win. Anything to help the training.” Bekah wraps her arms around him and giggles.

“I mean I have the best girl... so yeah I think I do win. Plus, I’m hoping this season will be the best with you by my side.” Jon kisses Bekah as she feels the heat return to her cheeks. “And I can still make you blush.” Jon kisses her cheek.

“You probably always well, Tae.” Bekah admits.

“I hope so.” His lips brush her rosy cheeks while he carries the love of his life upstairs.

#Jonathan Toews fic #what's in a name fic #WIAN #tazer me 19 #love a damn blackhawk 🤦🏻‍♀️#j toews fic #j toews #jonathan toews #happens in the 2018-2019 season

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