pairing: Quinn Hughes x FemaleReader
description: you interrupt Quinn during his important game tape review, he teaches you the consequences of interrupting his focus.
TW: MDNI, Smut, dominant/submissive dynamics, vaginal sex, cockwarming, edging/orgasm control, creampie, unprotected sex, praise kink, degrading language (slut).
The living room is bathed in the soft, ambient glow of the TV, the blue light flickering intermittently across Quinn's face. He sits sprawled on the oversized leather sofa, legs extended, his sweatshirt carelessly on the floor. A large bowl of pretzels sits on the coffee table, but his attention is entirely consumed by the replay in front of him.
Beside him, you shift restlessly. You've been trying to occupy yourself for the last hour, scrolling through your phone and trying to read a book, but the proximity of Quinn is a physical weight that your focus can't shake.
You glance at the TV screen where the replay pauses on a defensive rotation, but your eyes drift back to him. Quinn's jaw is set in that familiar, focused expression, his brow furrowed as he analyzes the play. He looks devastatingly handsome, the sharp angles of his face illuminated by the screen. You feel that familiar heat pool in your lower belly, a traitorous combination of adoration and a deep, desperate need.
"Quinn," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the low hum of the surround sound. You reach out, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw.
He doesn't turn away from the screen. "Mm?" he hums, his voice rough and gravelly, the sound sending a jolt straight through you. He doesn't look at you, his gaze fixed on the TV, but he doesn't pull away from your touch either.
You move closer, your hand sliding down to rest on his chest. Through his t-shirt, you can feel the steady, rhythmic thrum of his heart. You press yourself against him, leaning in to place a soft, chaste kiss on the side of his neck.
Quinn shifts his weight, but doesn't stop watching. "You're distracting me," he murmurs, not unkindly, but with a trace of frustration in his tone. "I need to watch this. Game's in two days."
"I know," you breathe, your nose nuzzling against the sensitive skin behind his ear. "But I need you." You let your hand wander lower, your fingers tracing the waistband of his sweatpants, just hovering over the skin. "I need you inside me. Right now."
Quinn lets out a low, exasperated sound that you can't quite place. It sounds like a warning. He finally shifts his gaze from the screen to look at you, his eyes dark, intense and almost predatory. He takes your hand in his, his grip firm, and guides it away from his waistband.
"Not right now, baby," he says, his voice dropping an octave, rougher than before. "I'm concentrating. Watch this with me. I'll handle you in a bit. After the tape."
You pout, feeling the heat in your cheeks rise. "But I need you right now," you whine softly, letting your head fall onto his shoulder.
Quinn smirks, the corner of his lip quirking up. He wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer, his hand coming up to tangle his fingers in your hair. "You're always so needy," he says, his thumb rubbing soothing circles against your scalp. "And I love it. But right now, I need to focus."
He reaches over and pauses the tape. The silence that fills the room is heavy, the only sound being your own ragged breathing and the sound of the A/C humming. He looks at you, his expression unreadable, but his eyes hold a glint of something that makes your knees weak.
You reach out to touch him again.
"You're really desperate for my attention right now, aren't you, baby?" he asks, his voice low and husky. "I will make you a deal. You're going to sit on my lap like a good girl, you're going to let me finish this tape and you're not going to make a sound. Then I'll fuck you like you need me to. Deal?"
Your heart hammers against your ribs. The dominant edge in his voice sends a fresh wave of desire crashing through you. You nod eagerly, your mouth going dry. "Deal," you whisper.
Quinn leans forward and presses play on the remote, the replay resuming. He leans back into the cushions, settling into his seat. "Come here," he commands, patting his thigh.
You climb onto his lap, straddling him. You sink down, feeling the thick, hard length of him pressing against you through the fabric of his sweatpants. You adjust, trying to find a comfortable position, but his erection is undeniable. It presses insistently against you, demanding attention.
Quinn groans low in his throat, his hand immediately moving to grip your hips, holding you firmly in place. "Don't move," he warns.
You try to obey, your legs trembling slightly as you settle onto him. The friction of his erection against you is maddening, a constant, teasing pressure that has you moaning softly in your throat.
"You're so wet already," he murmurs, his hand sliding up your shirt to cup your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple through the lace of your bra. "You're soaking for me."
You can't help it. You let out a small gasp, your back arching slightly. "Quinn," you whine, your hips bucking instinctively.
He tightens his grip on your hips, his fingers digging into your skin. "Quiet," he whispers, his lips hovering near your ear. "Don't talk. Just watch."
He reaches down and tugs at the waistband of his sweatpants, freeing his hard cock. Your eyes widen at the sight of it, thick and throbbing with need. He grips the base, positioning it upright against his stomach.
"Pull your panties to the side," he commands, his voice low and authoritative.
Your hands tremble as you obey, hooking your fingers in the delicate lace and pulling the fabric aside, exposing your wet, swollen folds. Quinn guides your hips down, and you gasp as the head of his cock presses against your entrance.
"Slowly," he warns, his hands gripping your hips firmly. "Take it all in, but don't move once you're settled."
You sink down inch by inch, your body stretching to accommodate his impressive size. The feeling of him filling you so completely, so slowly, is almost overwhelming. When you're finally fully seated, his cock buried deep inside you, you let out a shaky breath, your hands gripping his shoulders for support.
"Good girl," he murmurs, his eyes still fixed on the TV screen. "Now stay still. Let me feel you wrapped around my cock while I watch this tape."
You try to obey, your legs trembling with the effort of remaining motionless. The feeling of him inside you, hot and hard, is a constant reminder of your submission. Every time he shifts slightly beneath you, you feel a jolt of pleasure shoot through your body.
The replay of the game continues on the TV, the players moving in slow motion, but your focus is entirely on the sensation of Quinn sitting beneath you. He is hard as a rock, and the feeling of him stretching you, filling you so completely, is driving you insane. You bite down on your lip, trying to suppress a moan, but it escapes anyway.
Quinn chuckles darkly, his hand sliding down to rest on your lower back, rubbing soothing circles. "Look at you," he whispers. "So desperate to move, so desperate to be fucked. You're such a slut for me, aren't you? Sitting here with my cock buried deep inside you, just waiting for me to use you."
You whine softly, your hips instinctively trying to grind against him, but his firm grip on your waist prevents any movement. "Quinn," you breathe, your eyes fluttering open to look at him.
He catches your gaze, his eyes dark and intense. "Don't look away. Watch the tape, baby."
You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, trying to regain control of your body, but the feel of him inside you is too much. Your breathing grows shallow and ragged. The fullness, the heat, the way he feels so perfect inside you is maddening, and you feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge.
"Please," you whisper, your voice barely audible. "Please, Quinn."
He smirks, his hand sliding up to cup your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple through the lace of your bra. "Please what, baby? Please fuck you? Not yet. I'm still watching the tape. You're going to sit there with my cock stretching your tight little pussy until I'm done. Understand?"
You nod frantically, your eyes wide with need. "Yes," you whisper.
"Good girl," he murmurs, his eyes drifting back to the screen. "Now let me concentrate."
The minutes stretch on, each one feeling like an eternity. The feeling of him inside you, hot and hard, is a constant reminder of your submission. Every time he shifts slightly beneath you, you feel a jolt of pleasure shoot through your body. You try to focus on the game, but it's impossible.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Quinn shifts beneath you, his hips moving slightly. "Almost done," he murmurs, his eyes still fixed on the screen. "Just a few more minutes. Can you handle that, baby?"
You nod frantically, your body trembling with need. "Yes," you whisper.
"Good girl," he murmurs, his hand sliding down to rest on your hip.
He lets the final minutes of the tape play out, the commentary droning on about a missed power play opportunity, but you're barely hearing it. Your world has narrowed to the delicious, torturous stretch of him inside you, the way his hands feel branding your hips, the low rumble of his voice vibrating through his chest and into yours. You're a trembling mess, slick with sweat and desperate for the release he's withholding.
Finally, he hits a button on the remote. The screen goes black, and the sudden silence in the room is deafening, broken only by your ragged, shallow breaths.
"There," he says, his voice a low, satisfied purr. "All done." He shifts beneath you, and the movement sends a shockwave of pleasure so intense through your body that you cry out, your head falling back. "Now, where were we?"
His hands slide from your hips to your ass, gripping the flesh firmly and pulling you even tighter against him. The change in angle makes his cock press against that perfect spot deep inside you, and your vision whites out for a moment.
"Quinn," you gasp, your fingers digging into his shoulders. "Please."
"Please what?" he asks, his voice dropping to that dangerous, dominant tone that makes you tremble. "Tell me what you need, baby."
"You," you whine, your hips trying to move, to find some friction, but his grip is like iron. "I need you to fuck me. Please, Quinn, I've been so good."
He chuckles, a dark, wicked sound. "You have been good," he concedes, his thumbs stroking the skin just below the curve of your ass. "The best. Sitting there, taking my cock like a perfect little toy. I think you've earned a reward."
Without another word, he lifts you slightly, his hands under your thighs, and then slams you back down onto his cock. The sudden, deep thrust rips a scream from your throat. He doesn't stop. He sets a punishing rhythm, lifting you up and pulling you back down, using your body to fuck himself. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, loud and carnal and utterly obscene.
"That's it," he growls, his eyes fixed on where your bodies are joined. "Take it. Take every fucking inch. You wanted this, didn't you? Wanted me to fill you up while I watched the game."
"Yes," you sob, your head lolling forward onto his shoulder. "Yes, Quinn."
He wraps one arm around your waist, holding you flush against him, while his other hand tangles in your hair, pulling your head back so he can look at you. His eyes are dark, feral with lust. "Look at me," he commands. "I want to see your face when you come."
His hips begin to snap up to meet yours, his strokes becoming faster, harder. He's hitting that spot inside you over and over again, a relentless, perfect rhythm that's pushing you closer and closer to the edge. You can feel the coil of pleasure tightening in your lower belly, threatening to snap.
"You're so tight," he groans, his lips brushing against yours. "So fucking wet for me. You're going to come all over my cock, aren't you? Going to make a mess for me?"
You can only nod, your mouth open in a silent scream as the pleasure builds to an unbearable peak.
"Come for me, baby," he orders, his voice a rough command. "Now."
His words are your undoing. The orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, a blinding, all-consuming rush of pleasure that steals your breath. Your body convulses, your pussy clamping down around his cock like a vice. You scream his name, your nails raking down his back as you ride out the waves.
"Fuck, yes," he growls, his hips bucking wildly as he chases his own release. "That's it. Milk my cock. Take every last drop."
With a final, deep thrust, he buries himself to the hilt and groans, his body shuddering as he spills himself inside you. You feel the hot flood of his release, the final, intimate claiming that sends another, smaller orgasm through you.
For a long moment, you just stay like that, tangled together, your bodies slick with sweat and the aftermath of your passion. His chest heaves against yours, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm that matches your own. He presses soft, lazy kisses to your neck and shoulder, his hands stroking your back in a soothing, gentle gesture.
"Good girl," he whispers, his voice soft and loving, the dominant edge replaced with something tender. "You did so well for me."
You pant, your heart hammering against your ribcage. You feel like jelly, completely drained of all energy. You look down at him, seeing the satisfied, contented smile on his face.
He leans in and kisses you, a deep, passionate kiss that tastes of sweat and sex and pure satisfaction. You melt into him, your body relaxing against his.
"Did you like that?" he asks, his voice soft now, a low rumble against your ear.
You can only nod, your body still trembling from the intensity of it all. He smiles, his thumb stroking your cheek gently.
"Good," he says, his voice dropping back to that low, dominant tone, though it's laced with affection now. "Because next time, I might just make you sit through the whole game like that."