🍸🪩🎶

RIGHT?? The anon absolutely cooked with that prompt. I wish my brain worked like that sometimes

thank you for sending this in my love!! i'm sat <3

Claiming his Future / Beckett Sennecke

pairing: Beckett Sennecke x FemaleReader description: One night Beckett's primal desire to claim you completely takes over TW: MDNI, Smut, Breeding kink, unprotected sex, dominant male, praise kink, mild possessiveness, creampie.

The evening air hangs heavy with anticipation as you watch Beckett walk through the door of your shared home. His muscular frame fills the entryway, the scent of his post-game sweat mixed with his expensive cologne creating an intoxicating aura that makes your knees weak. His dark eyes lock onto yours immediately, a predatory gleam in them that tells you he's been thinking about this all day.

"Missed you," he growls, dropping his hockey bag by the door without breaking eye contact. His voice is rougher than usual, laced with something that sends a shiver down your spine.

You've been together for more than two years now and you've learned to recognize that look. It's the one he gets when the gentle lover you know transforms into something a bit more demanding.

"Missed you too," you reply softly, rising from the couch where you've been waiting. You're wearing one of his oversized jerseys and nothing else, just how he likes it.

His lips curve into a smirk as he closes the distance between you in three long strides. "Good girl," he murmurs, his large hands gripping your hips possessively. "Always so ready for me, aren't you?"

You nod, unable to form words as his thumbs trace circles over your bare skin beneath the jersey. His touch ignites a fire deep within you, one that only he can quench.

"Beckett," you breathe, tilting your head back as his lips find the sensitive spot on your neck.

"Shhh," he whispers against your skin. "I've been thinking about you all day. All through practice, all through the game..." His teeth graze your pulse point. "Thinking about how good you'd look carrying my child."

Your breath catches at his words.

"Beckett," you say again, this time with a hint of uncertainty.

He pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark with desire. "The thought of seeing you round with my baby, swollen with my seed just gets me so fucking hard, baby," he murmurs.

Before you can respond, his lips are on yours, demanding and hungry. His tongue parts your lips, claiming your mouth in a kiss that leaves you breathless and wanting more. His hands roam your body, memorizing every curve, every dip, every sensitive spot that makes you gasp against his mouth.

"Upstairs," he commands between kisses, already lifting you effortlessly into his arms. "Now."

You wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you up the stairs, his muscles flexing with each step. The jersey rides up, exposing your bare ass to his hands, which he takes full advantage of, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh.

When he reaches the bedroom, he doesn't bother with the lights, instead tossing you onto the bed and following you down, his body covering yours completely. The weight of him, the smell of him, the feel of his hardening cock pressing against your thigh, it's all overwhelming in the best possible way.

"Beckett," you moan as his lips trail down your neck, his teeth nipping at your collarbone.

"Say my name again," he demands, his voice rough with need. "I want to hear you screaming it by the time I'm done with you."

His hands grip the hem of the jersey, pulling it over your head in one swift motion. The cool air hits your naked skin, causing your nipples to harden instantly. Beckett's eyes darken as he takes in the sight of you, completely bare and ready for him.

"Fuck," he breathes, his hands tracing the curves of your breasts. "Perfect. Absolutely perfect."

He lowers his head, taking one nipple into his mouth while his hand works the other. The stimulation sends waves of pleasure through your body, your back arching off the bed as you moan his name.

"That's it," he encourages, switching breasts. "Let me hear you. I want to know how good I make you feel."

His mouth continues its journey south, kissing and nipping at your stomach, his tongue dipping into your navel. You can feel the heat building between your legs and your core clenching in anticipation.

"Please," you beg, your hands tangling in his hair. "Beckett, please."

He chuckles against your skin. "Please what, baby? Please touch you? Please taste you? Please fill you up until you can't take anymore?"

"All of it," you gasp. "Everything."

"Good answer," he murmurs, finally reaching his destination. His broad shoulders spread your legs wide, his hot breath teasing your wet folds. "Because I plan to do all of that and more."

Without warning, his tongue is on you, licking and sucking with an expertise that leaves you seeing stars. Your hips buck off the bed as he works you, his fingers joining in, first one, then two, pumping in and out of your slick heat.

"Beckett," you scream, your hands fisting in the sheets. "Oh god, Beckett!"

He doesn't stop, his tongue flicking your clit relentlessly as his fingers curl inside you, hitting that spot that makes your toes curl. The pressure builds, higher and higher, until you're teetering on the edge.

"Come for me," he commands, his voice vibrating against your sensitive flesh. "Come all over my face, baby. Let me taste you."

That's all it takes. Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing as pleasure courses through your veins. Beckett doesn't let up, drawing out your climax until you're a trembling, whimpering mess beneath him.

When you finally come down, he kisses his way back up your body, his lips claiming yours in a passionate kiss that allows you to taste yourself on his tongue.

"Ready for round two?" he asks, a wicked grin on his face.

You can only nod, still recovering from the intensity of your orgasm.

"Good," he says, positioning himself between your legs. "Because I'm just getting started."

You watch as he quickly sheds his clothes, his muscular body on full display in the moonlight filtering through the window. His cock springs free, thick and hard, already leaking precum. Your mouth waters at the sight, your body ready for more.

He grips his length, stroking it slowly as he watches you. "See what you do to me?" he asks, his voice husky with desire. "Been hard for you all day. Couldn't focus during the game, just thinking about coming home to you, about filling you up."

He lines himself up with your entrance, teasing you with just the tip. "You want this, baby? You want me to breed you? To pump you full of my cum until it takes?"

"Yes," you breathe, your hips rising to meet his. "Please, Beckett. I want it."

With a groan, he pushes inside you, stretching you deliciously. He fills you completely, his thickness hitting all the right spots as he bottoms out. For a moment, he just stays there, allowing you to adjust to his size.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he murmurs, his forehead resting against yours. "So tight, so wet. Made just for me, weren't you?"

You nod, unable to speak as he begins to move, slowly at first, then with increasing intensity. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure through you, his hips hitting yours with a satisfying smack that fills the room.

"Look at me," he commands, his voice rough. "I want to see your face when I fill you up."

You force your eyes open, meeting his intense gaze. His eyes are dark with desire, his pupils blown wide with lust. There's something primal in his expression, something possessive that sends a thrill through you.

"Mine," he growls, his pace quickening. "All mine. Going to breed you so good, baby. Going to make you carry my child."

His words send you over the edge again, your orgasm hitting you unexpectedly. Your walls clench around him, milking his cock as he continues to thrust into you.

"Fuck," he groans, his movements becoming erratic. "That's it, baby. Come for me. Squeeze my cock with that tight pussy."

He shifts slightly, changing the angle of his thrusts, hitting that spot inside you that makes you see stars. Your orgasm intensifies, your body shaking with the force of it.

"Beckett!" you scream, your nails digging into his back. "Oh god, Beckett!"

"I'm close," he pants, his thrusts becoming more urgent. "So fucking close. Going to breed you good."

With a final, powerful thrust, he buries himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he releases his load. You can feel the warmth of his cum filling you, coating your walls as he continues to empty himself inside you.

"Take it," he growls, his body trembling with the force of his orgasm. "Take all of me. Every last drop."

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him even deeper as he continues to pulse inside you. His weight presses you into the mattress, his body covering yours completely in a possessive blanket that feels both overwhelming and comforting.

For several long moments, you both lie there, breathing heavily, your bodies still joined as you come down from your shared high. Beckett's face is buried in the crook of your neck, his hot breath fanning against your skin.

"Fuck," he murmurs against your neck, his voice still rough with passion. "That was... incredible."

You can only hum in agreement, your body too sated to form words. His softening cock remains inside you, a reminder of his claim, his promise to breed you.

After a few moments, he pushes himself up on his elbows, looking down at you with an expression that's equal parts satisfaction and something more, something tender and almost reverent.

"You okay?" he asks, his thumb gently stroking your cheek.

You nod, a soft smile playing on your lips. "More than okay. That was... intense."

"I love you so much, baby," he says, leaning down to kiss you softly.

"I love you too."

including: Connor Bedard, Sidney Crosby, Will Smith, Macklin Celebrini, Jack Hughes, Lukas Reichel, Gabe Perreault, Juraj Slafkovsky.

Connor Bedard:

Give: Quality Time

Connor shows love through focused attention and shared experiences. When he's with someone, he's fully present, which means no phones, just them. He'll either suggest activities that allow for deep conversation and connection, like long walks or quiet dinners, or fun activities where you can joke around with eachother, like playing Paddle or Pickleball. He's the type to plan thoughtful dates that show he's been listening to your interests, even if it's something he knows nothing about. For Connor, time is the most valuable thing he can give, and he chooses to spend it with people who matter most.

Receive: Words of Affirmation

Growing up in the spotlight, Connor has learned to value genuine praise over empty compliments. He needs to hear that he's appreciated not just for what he does on the ice, but for who he is as a person. Specific compliments about his character or sense of humor mean more than generic praise about his talent. He's sensitive to insincerity, so heartfelt words that acknowledge his efforts and struggles resonate deeply with him.

Sidney Crosby:

Give: Acts of Service

Sidney shows love through doing things, like fixing things that are broken, handling problems before they become emergencies and taking care of practical matters so his loved ones don't have to stress. He's the type to notice your car is making a weird noise and show up with a mechanic or handle all the travel planning for a vacation without being asked. His love language is quiet competence; he'd rather show he cares by making your life easier than by talking about feelings.

Receive: Physical Touch

Despite his tough exterior, Sid is deeply responsive to physical affection. A hand on his back during a stressful moment, a hug after a tough loss or just sitting close on the couch while watching TV, these small gestures speak volumes to him. He's not necessarily overly cuddly, but consistent, meaningful physical contact helps him feel secure and connected. After years of physical battles on the ice, he appreciates gentle, loving touch that has nothing to do with competition.

Will Smith:

Give: Words of Affirmation

Will expresses love through constant encouragement and verbal appreciation. He's the type to send good morning texts, leave notes with compliments and verbally acknowledge the small things he loves about you. His praise is specific and genuine, not just "you look nice" but "that color brings out the green in your eyes." He's also quick to defend and stand up for his loved ones, using his words as a shield when needed. For Will, verbal expression is how he processes and reinforces his feelings.

Receive: Receiving Gifts

It's not about materialism with Will, it's about the thought behind the gift. He treasures things that show someone was thinking of him, especially when they relate to his interests or inside jokes. A signed book from his favorite author, a custom piece of equipment or even something small like his favorite snack brought to him after practice, these gestures make him feel seen and understood. The monetary value means nothing compared to the emotional value of knowing someone cares enough to choose something just for him.

Macklin Celebrini

Give: Physical Touch

Macklin is naturally physically affectionate and uses touch as his primary way of showing love. He's the type to constantly be in contact somehow, a hand on your back as you walk through a crowd, playing with your hair while watching TV or just sitting pressed against you on the couch. He's also quick to offer comforting hugs during difficult times and celebratory high-fives during good ones. For Macklin, physical proximity equals emotional intimacy and he struggles to feel connected without that physical element.

Receive: Quality Time

Despite his busy schedule, Macklin values undivided attention above all else. He needs people who will put their phones away and truly engage with him, even if it's just for twenty minutes. He's particularly drawn to shared activities that allow for conversation and connection, like cooking together or taking a road trip. He's been so focused on hockey his whole life that he craves experiences that make him feel like a normal person, not just an athlete.

Jack Hughes

Give: Receiving Gifts

Jack shows love through carefully chosen gifts that demonstrate how well he pays attention to the people in his life. He remembers casual mentions of things you like or need and surprises you with them later. His gifts aren't necessarily expensive but are always thoughtful, like your favorite coffee delivered after a tough day, a book by an author you mentioned once or gear for a hobby you just picked up. For Jack, gift-giving is how he proves he's listening and that he cares about the details of your life.

Receive: Words of Affirmation

Jack thrives on verbal validation and encouragement. He needs to hear that he's doing well, that he's loved and that his efforts are noticed. Specific compliments about his skills, his intelligence or his character mean more than generic praise. He especially needs words of encouragement during difficult times. He needs to know that someone believes in him, which helps him push through challenges.

Lukas Reichel

Give: Acts of Service

Lukas demonstrates love through quiet, practical support. He's the type to notice your favorite snack is running low and restock it without being asked or show up early to help set up for an event you're hosting. He's particularly attentive to details that make your life easier, like organizing your schedule when you're overwhelmed, handling difficult phone calls or taking care of chores he knows you dislike. For Lukas, love is about showing up and taking care of things, even when no one is watching.

Receive: Quality Time

Despite his reserved nature, Lukas deeply values shared experiences and undivided attention. He's not big on grand gestures but thrives on consistent, meaningful time together. He particularly enjoys low-key activities that allow for natural conversation and connection, like baking together or visiting local bookstores together. Time spent together, without pressure or performance, is how he feels most secure and loved.

Gabe Perreault

Give: Words of Affirmation

Gabe expresses love through constant encouragement and verbal appreciation. He's naturally effusive with compliments and praise, always noticing and acknowledging the things he loves about people. He's the type to send encouraging texts before big events, leave notes with heartfelt messages, and verbally express gratitude for the small things. He's also quick to defend and stand up for his loved ones, using his words as both shield and support system. For Gabe, verbal expression is how he processes and reinforces his feelings.

Receive: Physical Touch

Despite his outgoing personality, Gabe is deeply responsive to physical affection. He's naturally touchy and seeks out physical contact as a way to feel connected and secure. He's the type to hug hello and goodbye, sit pressed against people on the couch and reach for hands during conversations. He's also particularly responsive to comforting touch during difficult moments, like a hand on his back or a hug can mean more than words when he's struggling. For Gabe, physical proximity equals emotional intimacy.

Juraj Slafkovsky

Give: Quality Time

Juraj shows love through shared experiences, particularly ones that allow him to introduce people to his culture and interests. He's the type to plan thoughtful dates and outings that reflect both his heritage and his understanding of what you enjoy. He's particularly attentive during these shared moments, putting away distractions and truly engaging with the people he cares about. For Juraj, time is the most valuable thing he can give and he chooses to spend it creating memories with people who matter most.

Receive: Acts of Service

i saw ur a big fan of gracie and had an idea, basically back when jack hughes lived in toronto he and reader were dating and had that whole “in between” by gracie vibes and then jack has to tell her he’s moving to michigan for hockey and it kinda all crashes down and they just spend every last second together wether it’s in school, his house, her house, parties and then he has to leave her and it’s so so sad, but she’s happy for him nonetheless because his dreams r coming trueee 🥲🥲

(btw around this time jack and reader would’ve been 15-16)

THANK YAAAAA!!

STOP because this request is so weirdly specific and niche in the best possible way!!

first of all thank you SO much for sending this in because i immediately knew exactly what feeling you were talking about. "in between" is genuinely one of my favorite gracie songs ever and i fear this request altered my brain chemistry.

also can we talk about the fact that I SURVIVED THE TICKETMASTER WAR??? somehow??? and i will actually be seeing gracie next year which feels fake every time i think about it

anyway this fic hurt me. bad. i hope you enjoy <3

In Between / Jack Hughes

pairing: Jack Hughes x FemaleReader description: Caught somewhere between holding on and letting go, you spend one last summer with Jack before everything changes. TW: Fluff, angst, emotional heartbreak, teenage romance, best friends to lovers vibes, long-distance separation, crying, bittersweet ending, nostalgia, grief of growing up.

The first time you met Jack, you were both fourteen and awkwardly reaching for the same copy of "The Catcher in the Rye" at a Toronto bookstore. His hand brushed yours and you both pulled back like you'd been shocked.

"Sorry," he'd mumbled, cheeks flushing a charming shade of pink that matched his hoodie.

"No worries," you'd replied, trying to sound casual while your heart hammered against your ribs.

Neither of you knew it then, but one shared book would turn into shared walks home, late-night phone calls, weekends spent at hockey rinks and eventually a relationship so woven into your everyday life that you couldn't remember what it was like before it existed.

Now, nearly two years later, you're curled up on his bedroom floor, surrounded by textbooks and the lingering scent of his cologne. The late afternoon sun filters through his window, casting golden stripes across the worn carpet. You're supposed to be studying for finals, but you keep getting distracted by the way his fingers tap against his thigh when he's concentrating, the slight furrow between his brows as he works through a calculus problem.

"Hey," he says, waving a hand in front of your face. "You've been staring at the same page for ten minutes."

"Sorry," you shake your head, feeling your cheeks warm. "Just zoned out."

He grins, that crooked smile that still makes your stomach do flip-flops. "Thinking about me, I hope."

"Always," you tease back, nudging his knee with your foot.

It's easy between you two. Comfortable. Like your favorite worn-in sweater or the playlist you both know by heart. You finish each other's sentences, share fries without asking and have a system of text emojis that no one else understands. Your friends joke that you're basically already married, and sometimes, when you catch him looking at you with that soft expression he thinks you don't notice, you almost believe it.

Jack's phone buzzes, and he glances at it before quickly silencing it. You've noticed he's been doing that a lot lately, checking messages when he thinks you're not looking, coming home later from practice, his usual easy presence replaced by something strained.

"Everything okay?" you ask, trying to sound casual.

"Yeah, fine," he says, but he won't meet your eyes. "Just hockey stuff."

You want to push, to ask what's really going on, but you're scared of the answer. Scared of the shift you can feel coming.

The storm breaks two days later.

You're walking home from school, fingers intertwined, his thumb stroking circles against your palm. It's unseasonably warm for April in Toronto, and you've both shed your jackets, enjoying the rare sunshine.

"Can we go to the park?" he asks suddenly, stopping in his tracks. "There's something I need to tell you."

Your heart sinks. "Okay."

The park is mostly empty, save for a few dog walkers and kids on the swings. You settle onto your usual bench, the one with the chipped green paint that overlooks the pond. Jack picks at a loose thread on his jeans, avoiding your gaze.

"My dad got a job offer," he starts, then stops. "Well, not exactly. It's more like... an opportunity."

"Okay," you say slowly, dread coiling in your stomach.

"The U.S. National Team Development Program," he finally looks at you, and the anguish in his eyes makes your chest ache. "In Michigan. They want me and Quinn to play there next year."

Michigan.

The word hangs in the air between you, heavy and suffocating. Michigan is not Toronto. Michigan is not a ten-minute walk from your house, not the same high school, not the same life.

"Oh," you manage to say, though it comes out as a croak. "When?"

"End of June," he replies quietly. "We'd move right after school lets out."

You stand up abruptly, needing to move, needing to breathe. "So that's it? You're just... leaving?"

"It's not like that," he follows you, reaching for your hand. "This is huge for me. For my future."

"What about us?" you whirl around, tears stinging your eyes. "What about our future?"

He looks stricken and you immediately regret your words. You know how much hockey means to him, how hard he's worked. You're being selfish, but you can't help it.

"I thought... I don't know what I thought," you admit, your voice cracking. "I guess I just thought we had more time."

"Hey," he pulls you into his arms, holding you tight as you finally let the tears fall. "We're not breaking up. We're not ending anything. We're just... changing."

You nod against his chest, even though you don't really believe him. How can you not change when you're hundreds of miles apart? When he's living his dream and you're still here, in Toronto, going to the same school, walking the same streets, but without him?

The next two months become a desperate race against time. You spend every possible moment together, trying to cram a lifetime of memories into a handful of weeks.

There are late-night study sessions that turn into make-out sessions, whispered promises against your lips as his hands roam under your shirt. There are trips to the bookstore where you first met, buying matching copies of your favorite novels. There are weekends at his cottage, swimming in the lake at dusk while his parents pretend not to notice as you sneak into his room after midnight.

There are parties where you find yourselves in a corner, his arms wrapped around you as you watch your friends laugh and drink, feeling separate from them somehow. You're creating your own bubble, a private world of inside jokes and shared glances, trying to make it strong enough to withstand the distance that's coming.

"Remember this moment," he whispers in your ear one night, as you sway to a slow song at someone's backyard party. "The way I look at you. The way you feel in my arms."

"I'll remember everything," you promise, even as you know that memories fade, that time erodes even the most vivid moments.

The last week is the hardest. You skip school, spending your days in his now-half-packed room, surrounded by boxes and the ghosts of your time together. You trace the outline of his body on his empty mattress, trying to memorize the way he fits against you.

"Tell me again," you say, your head in his lap as he plays with your hair.

"Tell you what?"

"That we'll be okay. That this won't change us."

He hesitates, and that's all it takes for your carefully constructed hope to crumble.

"Jack?"

"We'll still be us," he says finally, but his voice lacks conviction. "Just... different. In between."

"In between what?"

"Here and there. Then and now. Visits and phone calls."

It's not what you want to hear, but it's the truth, and you appreciate him for not lying to you.

The day he leaves is unseasonably cold. You stand on his doorstep as his family loads the last of their bags into the car. His mom hugs you tightly, whispering that you'll always be welcome in their home, no matter where that home is. His dad claps you on the shoulder, eyes soft with understanding. Quinn gives you an awkward hug that's surprisingly sweet.

And then it's just you and Jack, standing on the sidewalk as the world continues to spin around you.

"I'll call you every day," he promises, his hands cupping your face.

"I know," you say, even though you both know it won't be the same.

He kisses you then, a desperate, hungry kiss that tastes of tears and unspoken words. It's a goodbye and a hello all at once, the end of one chapter and the beginning of another.

"I love you," he murmurs against your lips.

"I love you too," you reply, and you mean it with every fiber of your being.

You watch until the car turns the corner, until it disappears from view. You stand there for a long time after, even as the neighbors start to stare, even as your phone begins to buzz with concerned texts from your friends.

Finally, you turn and walk home, the path feeling longer than it ever has before. His hoodie is still in your backpack, his scent clinging to the fabric. You'll wear it to bed tonight, and tomorrow, and for as long as it still smells like him.

Because that's what you do when you're fifteen and in love and your whole world has just been turned upside down. You hold on to the little things, the memories, the promises, and you hope that they'll be enough to bridge the distance between here and there, between then and now.

hiii my love, I hope this meets your expectations!!! let me know if you want me to write for another Ducks player <3

NSFW Alphabet / Leo Carlsson

TW: MDNI, Smut.

A - Aftercare (what is it like after sex?)

Leo is very attentive after sex. He's not overly talkative, but his actions speak volumes. He'll gently clean you up, get you something to eat or drink if you want to and cuddle you against his chest, wrapping his long arms around you. He'll press soft kisses to your forehead and murmur in Swedish how good you were for him and how much he loves you. He's the type to stay awake until he's sure you're comfortable and asleep.

B - Body part (favorite part of your body and his)

His favorite parts of your body are your hips and waist. He loves how his hands can wrap around them and how they feel when he's gripping them to pull you closer. He's also fascinated by the softness of your thighs, often tracing patterns on them when you're cuddling. As for his own body, he's most proud of his hands, not just for their skill in hockey, but for how they can make you fall apart with just a touch. He's also secretly pleased with his height, loving how he can tower over you and tuck you under his chin.

C - Cum (anything about coming)

He has a thing for coming inside you. The possessive streak in him loves the thought of marking you from the inside out, of his cum filling you up. He gets a particular thrill from watching it drip out of you afterward. He's not particularly messy otherwise, but this is one area where he's a bit primal. He also loves when you beg him to cum inside you, the sound of your desperate pleas pushing him over the edge every time.

D - Dirty secret

His dirtiest secret is that he's recorded you without your knowledge, just audio and never an actual video. He has a few voice memos saved on his phone of you moaning his name and he listens to them when he's on road trips and missing you. The thought of someone else finding them mortifies him, but he can't bring himself to delete them.

E - Experience (experience in sex)

Leo isn't wildly experienced but he's not a novice either. Before you, he had a couple of casual hookups and one serious relationship in Sweden. What he lacks in extensive experience, he more than makes up for in enthusiasm and attentiveness. He's a quick study and is genuinely interested in learning what you like.

F - Favorite position

His absolute favorite is you on top, facing him. He loves watching your face as you ride him, the way your breasts bounce with each movement. It gives him access to kiss you, play with your clit and grip your hips to guide your movements.

G - Goofy (how serious is he during sex?)

Sex with Leo is generally serious and intense, but there are moments of playfulness. He might crack a small, mischievous smile when he's teasing you or chuckle softly if you make an unexpected noise. He's not one for full-on laughter during sex, but he appreciates the ability to be comfortable enough with each other to find humor in awkward moments.

H - Hair (personal hygiene?)

Leo is naturally quite hairy, but he keeps himself well-groomed. He trims his pubic hair short but doesn't shave it completely, it's more of a neat, controlled look rather than bare. He has some light hair on his chest and a happy trail that he doesn't really bother with.

I - Intimacy (what is it like during sex with him?)

Despite his occasional dominant streak, sex with Leo is deeply intimate. He maintains eye contact whenever possible, his blue eyes darkening with desire as he watches your reactions. There's a sense of worship in his touch, as if he can't believe he's with you. He'll often whisper praise in Swedish or English, telling you how beautiful you are, how good you feel and how much he wants you. 

J - Jack off (how much does he masturbate?)

When you're together, he rarely masturbates. Why would he when he has the real thing? However, on long road trips or during periods when you're apart, he'll jack off fairly regularly, maybe every other day or so. He usually does it in the shower, both for easy cleanup and privacy. He thinks about you exclusively, sometimes replaying memories or imagining new scenarios he wants to try with you.

K - Kink

He has a praise kink, both giving and receiving. He loves telling you how good you're being for him, how perfect you feel, how well you take him. In return, he melts when you praise him, tell him how good he's making you feel, how big he is, how much you want him and he becomes putty in your hands. I could also see him having a mild breeding kink.

L - Location (favorite places to have sex)

His favorite place is definitely his bed, where he can take his time and you can be as loud as you want. However, he's not opposed to other locations. He's also initiated sex in his car more than once, usually parked somewhere secluded after a date. He's too cautious to try anything truly public, but semi-private spaces get his adrenaline going.

M - Motivation (what excites him?)

I feel like he would be incredibly aroused by your intelligence, watching you talk about something you're passionate about and how your eyes light up with excitement often leads to him interrupting with a hungry kiss. Another major turn-on: when you take control in small ways, like initiating sex or telling him exactly what you want.

N - No (what wouldn't he do with you?)

Leo would never share you. The thought of a threesome, especially with another man, is an immediate no. He's also not into anything that causes you genuine pain or humiliation, spanking is fine, but anything beyond that crosses a line for him. He also won't engage in roleplay that involves cheating or betrayal, even as a fantasy.

O - Oral (does he prefer to give/receive?)

Leo absolutely loves giving. He could spend hours between your thighs, exploring every inch of you with his tongue and fingers. He's methodical and attentive, learning exactly what makes you gasp and moan, then repeating it until you're a writhing mess. He enjoys receiving too, but he's more focused on your pleasure. When you do go down on him, he's surprisingly vocal, groaning and muttering encouragement in both English and Swedish, his hands tangled gently in your hair.

P - Pace (how does he like to do it?)

Leo varies his pace depending on the mood. Often, he starts slow and sensual, savoring every moment and every sensation. As things heat up, his pace quickens, becoming more urgent and demanding. He's capable of hard, fast fucking that leaves you both breathless, but his default is a steady, powerful rhythm designed to build pleasure gradually until you're both overwhelmed. He's particularly good at reading your body and adjusting his pace to match or direct your arousal.

Q - Quickie (does he like them?)

While he prefers longer sessions where he can take his time, Leo definitely appreciates a good quickie. He sees them as necessary evils during busy schedules or as thrilling additions to risky situations. He's mastered the art of the quickie, efficient, passionate, and satisfying despite the time constraint.

R - Risk (would he take risks?)

He won't do anything truly stupid that could jeopardize his career or get you both arrested, but he's not completely risk-averse either. He enjoys semi-public sex where there's a thrill of potentially being caught but a low actual risk. He's also open to experimenting in the bedroom, willing to try new things as long as they don't cross his hard limits.

S - Stamina (how long can he last during sex?)

Leo's stamina is impressive. On average, he can last anywhere from 20-40 minutes of continuous intercourse, depending on the pace and intensity. He has remarkable recovery time, usually being ready for round pretty quickly, especially if you're teasing or encouraging him.

T - Toy(s) (would he use toys?)

I feel like he would initially be hesitant about toys, viewing them as unnecessary when he has the skills to please you himself. However, once introduced to them, he becomes quite interested. His favorite would be a remote-controlled vibrating egg that he can control with his phone. He loves the power dynamics of being able to tease you in public settings. He's also intrigued by nipple clamps with adjustable pressure, enjoying how they heighten your sensitivity as well as the visual appeal of the jewelry against your skin.

U - Unfair (how much does he like to tease you?)

Leo is an expert tease, but in a controlled, deliberate way. He'll spend what feels like an eternity worshiping your body with his mouth, avoiding your most sensitive areas until you're literally begging for his touch. During sex, he might pause right as you're about to orgasm, pulling back to watch you writhe in frustration before finally granting you release. He particularly enjoys edging you, bringing you to the brink multiple times before allowing you to come.

V - Volume (how vocal is he during sex?)

He isn't overly loud, but he's definitely vocal. He groans and grunts with pleasure, especially when he's close to climax. His breathing becomes heavier, more ragged as he approaches his peak. When he speaks, it's usually in a low, husky voice, either praising you or giving commands in English or Swedish. He saves his loudest moans for when you're doing something particularly incredible, like when you take him deep or when you clench around him unexpectedly. 

W - Wild card (random thought about him)

Leo has a secret thing for temperature play. Nothing extreme, but he loves the contrast of sensations, like tracing ice cubes along your skin before warming it with his mouth, or using warmed massage oil during foreplay. 

X - X-ray (how big is it?)

Leo is generously endowed, matching his tall frame. He's around 7.5 inches when fully erect, with a satisfying thickness that stretches you deliciously. He has a slight upward curve that makes him hit all the right spots, especially when he's taking you from behind. The head is more pronounced, providing that delicious friction as he enters and withdraws. His veins are prominent, running along the shaft in a way that feels incredible inside you.

Y - Yearning

Leo has a surprisingly high sex drive for someone with such a demanding schedule. When you're together and he's not exhausted from games or travel, he wants sex daily. His desire fluctuates with his hockey schedule; it's highest on game days (as a way to burn off nervous energy) and lowest immediately after intense games when he's physically drained. During off-days or lighter practice periods, he's insatiable. Even when he's too tired for full-on sex, he still craves intimacy, often initiating heavy makeout sessions or mutual masturbation before bed.

Z - Zzz (how fast is he asleep after sex?)

I hope this is what you were looking for!! If this wasn't quite what you had in mind, just send me another ask and I'll fix it for you <3

Cold Shoulder, Warm Reception / Beckett Sennecke

pairing: Beckett Sennecke x mad!Reader description: After a fight sends you to the stands in silent protest, Beckett tries to bridge the icy distance between you with a simple offering on the ice. TW: Fluff, relationship conflict, kissing/making out, brief possessive behavior.

The chill in the arena mirrors the one between you and Beckett, a cold war that's been raging for two days since your fight. You're tucked into a seat you haven't occupied in months, because usually you're watching from the private box with his family or waiting for him backstage. But tonight, you're just another face in the crowd, anonymous among the sea of fans.

It's petty, and you know it. But he hurt you, and part of you wants him to feel the absence of your support, to notice the empty space where you usually are.

The game is intense with Beckett moving across the ice with that fluid grace that first drew you to him. Even from your distant seat, you can read his body language, the slight tension in his shoulders and the extra edge to his playing. He's angry, or frustrated, or maybe both.

As the game progresses, you find yourself watching him more than the puck. You notice the little things: how he taps his stick twice before each faceoff, how his eyes scan the crowd during timeouts and how he plays with a chip on his shoulder that's both impressive and slightly concerning.

In the third period, he scores a beautiful breakaway goal that sends the crowd into a frenzy. His teammates mob him, but as they're skating back to the bench, his eyes find yours. Even across the distance, you feel the connection and the unspoken apology in his gaze.

You look away, your resolve wavering but not broken.

The final buzzer sounds, and his team wins. Players begin their post-game rituals, saluting the crowd, signing sticks and jerseys. You're gathering your things, ready to slip out before the crowds thin, when you notice Beckett skating toward your section.

Your heart hammers against your ribs as he stops below your seat, looking up at you with those earnest eyes that have always been your weakness. He taps his stick on the ice, drawing the attention of nearby fans.

Then he tosses a puck up toward you. It's not just any puck, it's the one he scored with, the game-winner. You fumble the catch, but manage to secure it, your fingers closing around the frozen rubber as the fans around you cheer.

"Meet me backstage?" he mouths, his expression hopeful.

You hesitate, then give a slight nod, watching as he disappears into the tunnel.

Backstage is familiar territory, but tonight it feels different. The air is thick with unspoken words as you wait for him, the game-winner puck clutched in your hand like a peace offering.

When he appears, fresh from his post-game shower, his hair is still damp, a towel draped around his neck. He stops when he sees you, his eyes softening.

"You came," he says, his voice rough from exertion.

"You scored," you reply, holding up the puck. "Figured I should congratulate you."

He closes the distance between you, his hands gently cupping your face. "I'm sorry," he says quietly. "What I said the other day… I was an idiot."

Tears prick at your eyes, but you blink them back. "You were."

"I missed seeing you in your usual spot," he continues, his thumbs stroking your cheeks. "It felt wrong without you there."

"Then why did you say those things?" you challenge, though your resolve is crumbling.

"Because I'm scared," he admits, his vulnerability disarming you. "Scared of how much I need you. Sometimes I say stupid things to push you away, to see if you'll come back."

You search his face, seeing the truth in his eyes. "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard."

A small smile plays on his lips. "I know."

Then he's kissing you, a gentle apology that quickly deepens into something more demanding. His hands slide from your face to your hips, pulling you flush against him as he deepens the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with a familiarity that makes your toes curl.

When he finally pulls back, you're breathless, your anger replaced by desire. "I'm still mad at you," you whisper, though your actions betray your words.

"I know," he murmurs, his lips trailing along your jaw. "But let me make it up to you."

His hands roam your body, reacquainting themselves with your curves as his mouth claims yours again. There's an urgency to his touch, a desperation that speaks of his fear of losing you. It's intoxicating, the way he wants you, the way he needs you.

"Beckett," you gasp as his teeth graze your neck. "We're in public."

"Then let's go home," he suggests, his eyes dark with desire. "So I can properly apologize."

Thank you for the request! I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed creating it <3

Shared Walls / Connor Bedard

pairing: Connor Bedard x FemaleReader description: When Connor's roommate comes home unexpectedly, he's forced to silence your moans somehow. TW: MDNI, Smut, gagging (hand over mouth), dominant behavior, unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving).

The familiar scent of Connor's cologne clings to the air in his apartment, a mixture of clean laundry and something distinctly him that always makes you feel at home. You're curled up on his bed, scrolling mindlessly through your phone as he moves around the room after a long practice. He's all restless energy and simmering intensity, a predator in his natural habitat, and you're the only prey he's interested in hunting.

"You're staring," he says without turning, a small smile playing on his lips as he rummages through his dresser for a clean t-shirt.

"Am not," you lie, locking your phone and setting it aside. "Just admiring the view."

He turns then, and the look in his eyes makes your breath catch. It's that predatory gaze you've come to know so well, the one that says he's about to pounce. He crosses the room in three long strides, caging you against the mattress with his arms on either side of your head.

"Admiring, huh?" he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours. "I can think of better things you can do than just look."

Your response is lost as his mouth claims yours, a hungry kiss that quickly escalates as his hands begin their exploration of your body. His touch is familiar yet electric, each caress reigniting the desire that simmers constantly between you. Clothes disappear in a flurry of whispered breaths and soft laughter, until you're skin to skin, the cool air of the room a stark contrast to the heat building between you.

Connor's mouth trails down your neck, across your collarbones and lower until he's settled between your thighs, his shoulders pushing your legs wider apart. The first touch of his tongue against your clit makes you gasp, your fingers automatically tangling in his hair as he begins to worship you with an expertise that never fails to undo you.

He takes his time, alternating between broad, flat strokes and precise, pointed flicks of his tongue. Just as you're building toward that first peak, he slides two fingers inside you, curling them to find that spot that makes your vision blur.

"Connor," you moan, your hips bucking against his mouth. "God, yes."

He hums against you, the vibration sending shockwaves through your system. "You taste so fucking good," he murmurs, pulling back slightly to look at you. "Could do this all day."

But you want more, no you need more. "Please," you beg, tugging gently at his hair. "I want you inside me."

He obliges, kissing his way back up your body until he's positioned above you, his hips settling between your thighs. "Like this?" he asks, teasing your entrance with the tip of his cock.

"Don't tease," you whine, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him closer.

He chuckles, a low, throaty sound that makes you clench with anticipation. "So impatient," he tsks, but he gives you what you want, sinking into you in one slow, deliberate stretch.

The initial fullness is overwhelming, a perfect pressure that makes you arch off the bed. Connor sets a rhythm that's both punishing and pleasurable, each thrust hitting that perfect spot inside you that makes your toes curl.

You're lost in the sensation, climbing higher and higher toward that sweet release, your moans growing louder as your pleasure builds. "Connor, yes, right there," you gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

But that's when you hear it, the distinctive click of the front door opening, followed by muffled voices from the living room.

Panic floods your system as Connor stills above you, his eyes wide with alarm. "Shit," he mouths, his body tensing. "Frank's home."

Your heart hammers against your ribs as you listen to the sounds of his roommate moving around in the other room, the thud of keys on the counter, the opening and closing of the fridge and the low murmur of what sounds like a phone call.

"We have to be quiet," Connor whispers, his expression serious. "Can you do that for me?"

You nod, biting your lip to stifle any sound that might escape. But as Connor begins to move again, his thrusts slow and deliberate, you realize that being quiet is easier said than done.

Each movement sends waves of pleasure coursing through you and it takes everything you have to suppress the moans that threaten to escape. Connor seems to sense your struggle because he's covering your mouth with his hand, his fingers pressing gently against your lips.

"Not a sound," he whispers, his eyes locked on yours as he increases his pace slightly. "Be a good girl and keep quiet for me, can you?"

The praise sends a jolt of arousal through you, and you have to bite back a whimper as he hits that perfect spot again. His other hand slides down your body, his thumb finding your clit and circling it slowly.

The dual stimulation is almost too much, and you can feel yourself teetering on the edge of release. "Connor," you gasp against his hand, your voice muffled. "I can't..."

"Yes, you can," he murmurs, his pace quickening. "Come for me. Quietly."

The command pushes you over the edge, and you tumble into orgasm with a muffled cry against his palm. Waves of pleasure crash over you, each one more intense than the last as Connor continues to move inside you, drawing out your release.

As you're coming down from your high, you hear Frank's voice from the living room, clearer this time. "Hey, Bedard, you in there? Wanna order a pizza?"

Connor's eyes widen in panic, but he doesn't stop moving. "Yeah, man, give me a minute," he calls out, his voice strained as he continues to thrust into you.

"Everything okay?" Frank asks. "You sound weird."

"Just… on the phone," Connor manages, his hips still moving in that maddening rhythm. "Be out in a sec."

The lie seems to satisfy his roommate, because you hear the sound of the TV turning up, covering any noises you might make.

"Thank God," Connor murmurs, removing his hand from your mouth. "Now, where were we?"

But before you can answer, he's covering your mouth again, his thumb pressing against your tongue as he drives into you with renewed purpose. The added stimulation sends you spiraling toward another orgasm, and this time, there's no stopping the cry that escapes your lips.

Connor's hand tightens against your mouth, his other hand gripping your hip as he finds his own release, his body tensing above you as he fills you with his warmth.

For a moment, you lie tangled together, hearts racing, bodies humming with the aftermath of your clandestine coupling. Then, from the living room, you hear Frank again.

"Bedard! Pizza or not? I'm starving."

Connor sighs, pulling out reluctantly and rolling off you. "Be right there," he calls out, then turns to you with a wicked grin. "To be continued?"

You laugh, pulling the sheet up to cover your naked body. "Definitely. But next time, we're making sure he's not home."

I think Quinn really fits the whole stalker/obsessed with his girl vibe, but I´m really open to write about Luke or Jack too so just lmk if you want another dark fic <3

(hope this is dark enough for you)

Watching You / Quinn Hughes

pairing: dark!Quinn Hughes x FemaleReader description: Quinn has been watching you for months, learning your every routine and desire. When he finally decides to make his move, he breaks into your apartment to claim what he believes is already his - you. TW: this is quiet dark, stalkerish/obsessive behavior,non-consensual surveillance, Smut, oral sex (both recieving), vaginal sex, dominant/submissive dynamics, marking (hickeys), power imbalance, dubious content.

The rain outside wasn't the kind that washed things clean; it was the kind that muddied everything, made the streets slick and gray. It matched the state of Quinn's mind perfectly. He sat in the driver's seat of his Audi, the engine idling softly, the rain tapping a rhythmic tattoo against the tinted glass.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

He checked his watch. 2:14 AM. The stars had been obliterated by the storm, but Quinn didn't need the stars to see what he was looking for. He was looking at you.

Three stories up. Your bedroom window.

He adjusted the rearview mirror just an inch. A sliver of the room was visible. You were lying on your side, tangled in white sheets, your hair a dark halo against the pillow. He watched the slow rise and fall of your chest, mesmerized. He felt that familiar ache in his groin, the phantom sensation of being buried inside you.

God, look at you, his mind whispered, dark and twisted. So soft. So unspoiled. You have no idea how badly I need to ruin you.

He remembered the first time he saw you. It had been at a grocery store near his brother's place. You had been bent over, reaching for a jar of pickles, your skirt riding up just enough to show the curve of your thigh. He had wanted to walk over, grab you by the waist, and tell you that you belonged to him. Instead, he had watched you turn, and when your eyes met his, he had felt a jolt so sharp it had nearly made him drop his cart.

You smiled. Just a small, innocent thing. "Oh, sorry, you can have that."

That smile had been your first mistake. It had planted a seed in his chest that had been growing ever since. He started tracking you. Not in a scary, bad way, but in a way that was intensely intimate. He knew your commute. He knew which coffee shop you went to at 8:00 AM for your coffee. He knew you walked your dog at 6:30 PM through Stanley Park, even when it rained.

He knew you liked your coffee black. He knew you hummed while you cooked. He knew you were naive, a little bit clumsy and utterly helpless when it came to handling a man like him.

The lights in your bedroom clicked on and Quinn's breath hitched.

He watched as you sat up, rubbing your eyes, looking around the room like a confused deer. He loved the way your pupils dilated when you were tired and the way your lips pursed when you were thinking. He wanted to kiss those lips until they were swollen.

He glanced at his phone. 2:16 AM.

He gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. Patience, Quinn.

He looked at his side mirror again, his eyes narrowing as he focused on your window. The storm was getting worse now, thunder rumbling in the distance. He wondered if you woke up because you were cold. He hated that that was even an opportunity. If you were his, you would never feel cold.

He reached into the passenger seat, pulling out the small gift he had bought earlier that day. A crystal pendant he'd seen in a boutique window. It was simple, elegant. Perfect for you. He wanted to see it against your skin. He alson wanted to know what it looked like when you were moaning his name.

You're so beautiful, the thought returned, possessive and demanding. I should have taken you that day at the grocery store. I should have dragged you to my car and made you mine right there in the parking lot.

He watched as you stood up and walked toward the window. Your hand rested on the glass as you looked out at the rain. He wondered what you were thinking about. Were you thinking about love? About how romantic the rain looks? About a normal guy who would take you on dates and hold your hand?

He reached out and pressed his hand against the window, mimicking your position. He watched you, his eyes boring into yours. You looked up, startled by the face reflected in the glass. And for a second, your eyes locked with his.

A smile touched your lips, a sleepy, confused smile.

Quinn felt a rush of blood to his groin. She knows. She feels it.

He pressed his forehead against the cool glass, his eyes never leaving yours. I'm coming for you, little dove.

The sound of the window sliding up made you jump, your heart hammering against your ribs. You turned around, expecting the draft from the open window to be the cause, but the latch was down.

The room was suddenly too small.

You walked to your bedroom door and opened it, stepping into the hallway. The lights were off in the rest of the apartment, but a soft glow emanated from the living room. You heard the sound of rain against the glass again, louder this time, and realized the patio door was open.

You crept into the living room, rubbing your eyes. Quinn was sitting on the edge of the sofa, his head in his hands, staring out at the rain.

"Quinn?" you called out softly.

He jumped, turning his head to look at you. His eyes were wide, dark, and filled with something that made your stomach drop. He didn't smile. He just stood up, his movements fluid and predatory.

"Did I wake you?" he asked, his voice rough and deep.

You shook your head, stepping closer. "I heard the rain. Is the patio door open?"

"It is," he said, taking a step toward you. He stopped when he was inches away, the scent of rain and pine filling your nose. You could feel the heat radiating off his body. "I thought you might be cold."

"I am a little," you admitted, wrapping your arms around yourself.

Quinn's eyes dropped to your chest, where your arms were hugging yourself. He let out a low, frustrated sound. "You shouldn't be cold. You should be warm."

He reached out, his hand cupping your cheek. His touch was firm, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip. You felt your knees weaken, the way he looked at you making you feel small.

"I came to see you," he said, his voice dropping an octave. "I've been watching you for a long time."

Your heart skipped a beat. "You have?"

"Every night," he said, leaning in. His breath hitched, his eyes darkening. "I watch you sleep. I watch you wake up. I watch you eat, I watch you work. I know everything about you."

You felt a flush rise to your cheeks. "You do?"

He moved closer, his hand sliding down to grip your hip. "You're so soft," he whispered, his fingers digging into your flesh. "So pretty."

"Quinn," you breathed, your hands coming up to rest on his chest. You could feel the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palm. "You're scaring me a little."

"Don't be scared, little dove. I would never hurt you," he growled, his lips brushing against your ear. "I want to own you. I want to see what you sound like when you come. I want to be the first thing you see every morning, and the last person you think of every night."

He pulled back, his eyes locking onto yours. "I just want you."

You felt a shiver run down your spine, but you didn't pull away. Instead, you nodded. "I think I want you too."

He groaned, a sound of pure need. He kissed you, a searing, aggressive kiss that took your breath away. His tongue demanded entry, his hands roaming over your body with a familiarity that terrified and excited you. He gripped the back of your neck, holding you in place as he plundered your mouth.

You could feel the hard length of him pressing against your thigh, a reminder of what he wanted. You reached up, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer.

He broke the kiss, panting, his eyes dark with lust. He pushed you back toward the patio door, the cold glass against your back. He pressed his body against yours, his hands moving under your shirt. His fingers were cool against your heated skin, tracing the curve of your waist, dipping lower.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he whispered, his lips trailing down your neck, sucking gently on the sensitive skin. He bit down, just enough to hurt, just enough to mark you.

He pulled your shirt up over your head, discarding it on the floor. He stared at you, his eyes raking over your body with undisguised hunger. He unhooked your bra, his hands cupping your breasts, his thumbs rubbing over your hardened nipples with agonizing slowness. You gasped, a sound of surrender that seemed to spur him on. His eyes never left your face, drinking in every expression of pleasure, every flicker of need.

"You're so responsive," he murmured, his voice dropping an octave. "It turns me on to see how much you like this."

He pushed you down onto the cold glass of the patio door, the chill seeping through your back but immediately warmed by his body pressing against you. He parted your legs, stepping between them, his knee nudging its way higher. His hands were everywhere, squeezing your hips, tracing the line of your spine, his nails occasionally digging in just enough to sting.

"I've thought about this," he confessed, his lips hovering near yours. "I've thought about just bending you over and watching myself disappear inside you."

"Quinn…" You whined his name, your hands fisting in his hair as he kissed a path down your neck.

"I want to hear you," he growled, biting down gently on the sensitive skin just above your collarbone. "I want to know what you sound like when I'm the only thing that matters. I want to know what you sound like when you're coming for me."

He moved lower, his mouth replacing his hands. He teased you, his lips and tongue grazing over the fabric of your panties, sending jolts of electricity straight to your core. You bucked your hips, trying to get more friction, but he held you down, his strong arms caging you in.

"Please, Quinn," you begged, your voice trembling.

"Patience," he whispered against your clothed sex. "I'm just getting started."

He pulled back, his eyes dark and intense. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties, his movements efficient and demanding. He didn't ask for permission. He simply stripped you of the last barrier between you.

His mouth moved instantly to your center. You cried out, your back arching off the glass as he devoured you. His tongue was skilled, relentless, finding every sensitive spot and driving you wild. He licked and sucked, his fingers joining in to stretch you open, curling precisely to hit that spot inside you that made your vision blur.

You were a mess of sensation, your head falling back against the glass. The world narrowed down to the feel of his mouth on you, the rough scratch of his stubble against your thighs, the sound of his groans of satisfaction as he ate you.

"You taste so good," he mumbled, pulling back just enough to look up at you. "So sweet. So perfect."

He stood up, stripping off his t-shirt and tossing it aside. He looked incredible, his muscles rippling in the dim light, his chest heaving. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a foil packet, tearing it open with his teeth.

"Get on your knees," he commanded, his voice rough with need.

You did as you were told, kneeling on the cool floor. He kicked his jeans down, his erection springing free, heavy and thick. He tapped his thumb against the side of the condom wrapper, waiting for you to comply. When you reached out, he guided your hand, wrapping it around him. You were surprised by the heat, the heavy weight of him in your palm.

"Good girl," he praised, his hand covering yours, helping you stroke him. "Show me how much you want it."

He groaned, his head falling back as you worked him. You looked up at him, his expression one of pure ecstasy mixed with obsession. He looked down at you, his eyes locking onto yours.

"Open your mouth," he ordered.

You obeyed, leaning forward to take him into your mouth. He was big, filling you up completely. You gagged slightly as he hit the back of your throat, but you didn't stop. You wanted to please him. You wanted to show him you could handle him.

He watched you, his eyes dark and hungry. He ran his fingers through your hair, holding you in place as he thrust into your mouth. He fucked your face with deep, hard strokes, his balls slapping against your chin.

"Gonna come," he gritted out, his body tensing.

He pulled out, his hand moving quickly as he finished himself off, spilling his seed over your hand and chest. He groaned, his shoulders dropping as he caught his breath.

"You did so good for me, my perfect girl," he whispered, looking at you with a reverence that made your heart swell.

He leaned down, kissing you, tasting himself on your lips. "I'm not done with you," he said, his voice dropping to a seductive purr. "I want to be inside you."

He helped you stand up, guiding you back toward the sofa. He sat down, pulling you onto his lap. He entered you easily, the stretch burning slightly as he filled you. He held you there for a moment, letting you adjust to his size.

Then, he began to move. His thrusts were hard and deep, hitting every spot that mattered. You cried out, your nails digging into his shoulders. You felt the wave building, higher and higher, until it crashed over you. You came again, your body clamping down on him, milking him dry.

He continued to thrust until he too reached his peak, his body going rigid. He spilled his seed, filling you, his grunts lost in the room.

He collapsed onto the sofa, pulling you close. You could feel his heart hammering against your ribs. He kissed your neck, his lips soft now. "I told you," he whispered against your skin. "I told you I was coming for you."

You ran your fingers through his hair, watching the rain continue to fall outside. "You did," you whispered back.

TW/CW: MDNI, Smut.

A - Aftercare (what is it like after sex?)

His aftercare is heartfelt and thorough, showing a side of himself that's deeply protective and nurturing. He'll likely pull you close, kiss your cheek or your forehead and make sure you're comfortable. He's the type to get you water and clean you up carefully before cuddling with you until you both fall asleep.

B - Body part (favorite part of your body and his)

Will is secretly proud of his toned midsection, he's worked hard to develop his defined muscles. He loves when your hands or lips trace the lines of his abs. As for his favorite part of your body, he's obsessed with your ass and how it feels in his hands, the way it looks when you're bending over and especially how it jiggles slightly when he's thrusting into you from behind.

C - Cum (anything about coming)

Will has a thing for coming on your ass or lower back, especially after he fucked you doggy style. There's something about marking his territory in that way that drives him wild. He's also not opposed to coming inside you if you're comfortable with it, loving the intimacy of that connection.

D - Dirty secret

Will has a secret insecurity about his sexual experience compared to his older teammates and friends. He sometimes feels pressure to perform perfectly and worries about not being experienced enough. This insecurity manifests as a secret fantasy of being with an older, more experienced woman who would take charge and teach him exactly what she likes. The thought of being guided and praised by someone more knowledgeable turns him on immensely.

E - Experience (his experience in sex)

Will has moderate experience for his age. As a young professional hockey player, he's had opportunities but has been somewhat selective. He's had a few casual encounters, giving him at least some kind of experience. He's still exploring his sexuality and is open to trying new things.

F - Favorite position

Will's favorite position is spooning you from behind, especially for lazy morning sex. He loves the intimacy of this position, being able to wrap his arms around you, kiss your neck, and play with your breasts while entering you slowly. He enjoys the slow, deep thrusts this position allows, and how he can maintain contact with your entire body.

G - Goofy (how serious is he during sex?)

During sex, Will can be very playful and goofy. He doesn't take himself too seriously in intimate moments and often breaks the tension with jokes or playful comments. He might make funny faces during foreplay or laugh when something awkward happens. This lighthearted approach makes sex with him fun and relaxed rather than overly intense. However, when things get more passionate, he can become very focused and serious.

H - Hair (personal hygiene?)

Will keeps things relatively natural down there. He has some hair but it's not overly dense, trimmed but not completely bare. He's not particularly meticulous about grooming but maintains a clean appearance. He has a light happy trail that connects to the hair below, which he knows you find attractive.

I - Intimacy (what is it like during sex with him?)

Sex with Will is very passionate. He's really focused on the physical pleasure as well as creating a deep emotional intimacy. He's attentive to your needs, enjoys making you feel good and loves to engage in pillow talk.

J - Jack off (how much does he masturbate?)

Will masturbates regularly, probably 3-4 times a week. As a young athlete with high testosterone, his sex drive is strong. He's somewhat private about it but not ashamed. He tends to use it as stress relief, often thinking about recent encounters or fantasies he had of you. He's efficient when he does it, but when he has time to himself, he enjoys taking his time and really savoring the experience.

K - Kink

He enjoys sensory play and overstimulation. Will seems like the type who'd love to explore every sensation with his partner, pushing boundaries in a controlled environment. He might be into edging, bringing you to the brink multiple times before finally allowing release. I also see him having a thing for water play, not just in the shower but specifically in settings like baths or pools where he can control the temperature and sensations.

L - Location (where does he like to have sex)

His favorite place is definitely the bedroom, but he's not opposed to other locations. He also loves to bend you over the kitchen counter. He's somewhat adventurous with locations but prefers places where he can still feel connected to you without too much risk of being caught.

M - Motivation (what excites him?)

What really gets Will going are gentle, intimate gestures rather than aggressive ones. Playing with his hair or scratching his head lightly, especially behind his ears or at the nape of his neck, gets him instantly aroused. Also, twirling his necklace around your fingers while making intense eye contact and biting your lip drives him wild with desire.

N - No (what wouldn’t he do with you?)

He's not into anything that involves humiliation or degradation, he respects you too much for that. He also wouldn't engage in anything non-consensual or that puts either of you at serious risk. While he might have interests in light dominance, anything more intense or potentially harmful is completely off the table for him.

O - Oral (does he prefer to give/receive?)

Will loves both giving and receiving. When receiving, he becomes very vocal and expressive, his hips bucking slightly as he tries to maintain control. When giving, he's very enthusiastic, enjoying the control it gives him to pleasure you. He also loves when you pull on his hair or when you dig your nails into his shoulders while he's eating you out.

P - Pace (how does he like to do it?)

He typically starts with a moderate pace and builds intensity gradually. He likes to establish a rhythm and maintain it, but he's responsive to your cues and will adjust accordingly. He's capable of both gentle lovemaking and more vigorous pounding, depending on the mood.

Q - Quickie (does he like quick sex?)

He enjoys quickies. He's able to focus on your pleasure even when rushed, making sure you're satisfied before finishing himself. There's something about the urgency and necessity of quickies that he finds hot, the stolen moments between games or practices add an element of excitement to your encounters.

R - Risk (would he take risks?)

Will is moderately risk-tolerant but not reckless. He's open to trying new things and pushing boundaries within reason. He might be willing to try semi-public sex if the risk of getting caught is low, or experiment with bondage if you're interested. However, he won't do anything that could jeopardize his career or cause serious harm. His risk-taking is calculated, exciting but not truly dangerous.

S - Stamina (how long can he last during sex?)

His stamina ist moderate. He can typically last 20-30 minutes of continuous activity, sometimes longer if he's pacing himself. What's more impressive is his recovery time, he's ready to go again relatively quickly after an orgasm.

T - Toy(s) (would he use toys?)

He is somewhat open-minded about toys but doesn't rely on them. He's willing to experiment with different toys if you're interested. He might enjoy using a vibrator on you during foreplay, especially if it intensifies your experience.

U - Unfair (how much does he like to tease you?)

Will enjoys teasing. He likes to build anticipation through light touches in public, knowing it drives you wild or drawing out foreplay. He gets satisfaction from your responses to his teasing, but he always follows through eventually. He's not the type to leave you frustrated for too long.

V - Volume (how vocal is he during sex?)

Will is moderately vocal during sex. He's not overly loud but definitely not silent. He tends to make deep groans and grunts, especially as he approaches climax. He also mutters dirty talk and praise, telling you how good you feel and how amazing you look. His voice gets lower and rougher during sex, which is incredibly hot.

W - Wild card (random thought about him)

He loves taking baths with you. He loves the way your body is so relaxed and pliant as he works you open with his fingers while he uses his legs to keep yours spread open for him, even when the pleasure becomes too much and you try to close them. He'd murmur "No, don't hide from me," against your skin as he adds another finger. He'd watch your face carefully, learning exactly which touches make you gasp, which make you arch and which make you beg.

X - X-ray (how big is it?)

Will is notably thick rather than exceptionally long. He's probably around 6.5 inches but with significant girth that makes him feel very filling. What's most impressive is how prominently his veins stand out when he's aroused, giving him a very textured appearance that adds to the sensation. He's uncut, which provides additional sensitivity for both partners during sex.

Y - Yearning

He is very respectful of his partner and can go without sex for quite a while if necessary. Unlike some athletes who seem constantly driven by their libido, Will values emotional connection above physical release. For him, sex is an expression of intimacy rather than just a physical need. He can go weeks without sex when single without becoming irritable, focusing instead on his game and training. In a relationship, he'd prefer quality over quantity, choosing fewer but more meaningful encounters over frequent but disconnected sex.

Z - Zzz (how fast is he asleep after sex?)

pairing:Jack Hughes x FemaleReader description: When the kiss cam forces an unwanted moment with your friend, your hockey situationship's explosive jealousy leads to a confrontation that blurs the line between anger and desire. TW: MDNI, Smut, Jack being a possessive little shit, marking, rough sex, unprotected sex, situationship.

The arena buzzes with electric energy, the roar of twenty thousand fans creating a deafening symphony around you. You're perched in your usual seats, close enough to see the sweat beading on players' foreheads as they glide across the ice. Your eyes naturally drift to number 86, moving with that predatory grace that makes your stomach clench.

"Still pretending you're just here for the love of hockey?" Mike nudges you, grinning as he sips his beer. He's been your friend since college and your platonic plus-one to these games for months now.

"Shut up," you mutter, but there's no heat behind it. "I'm watching the game."

"Right. The game," Mike says, rolling his eyes. "Not the five-foot-eleven hockey god who keeps looking over here between plays."

Before you can even think of a comeback, the jumbotron flashes to life above. KISS CAM. The crowd erupts as the camera pans from couple to couple, each obliging with varying levels of enthusiasm. Then it lands on you and Mike, your faces plastered across the arena.

"Oh hell no," you mutter, instinctively shrinking in your seat as the crowd begins chanting "KISS! KISS! KISS!"

Mike, ever the entertainer, leans in with a theatrical flourish. "Let's give the people what they want," he grins, aiming for your lips.

You turn your head at the last second, intending to give him a playful shove, but he's faster. His lips brush your cheek as you dodge, and the crowd goes wild, thinking it was all part of the show.

That's when you hear it—a sharp CRACK against the glass near your section. You look down to see Jack, his eyes locked on you, face contorted in rage. He bangs the glass again, harder this time, yelling something you can't hear over the crowd but understand perfectly: "BACK THE FUCK OFF."

Mike freezes, hands raised in surrender, his playful expression replaced with confusion and concern. The kiss cam mercifully moves on, but the damage is done. Jack's glare follows you for the rest of the game, even when he's not on the ice. You can feel his anger like a physical presence, making your skin prickle with equal parts annoyance and arousal.

The final buzzer sounds, and you're already gathering your things, heart racing. "I should probably..." you start, but Mike cuts you off.

"Yeah, you should," he says, already standing. "I'll catch an Uber. Don't worry about me." He pauses, concern evident in his eyes. "You sure you're okay? He seemed... intense."

"I'm fine," you lie, forcing a smile. "I can handle him."

Mike gives you a look that says he doesn't believe you for a second, but he nods anyway and disappears into the crowd.

You push through the crowd of fans, heading for the players' entrance where security already knows to let you through. The hallway is empty when you arrive, the distant sounds of celebration echoing from the locker room. You hesitate, then push open the door.

Jack is there, still in his pads, hair damp with sweat, eyes burning with something that makes your mouth go dry. He doesn't say anything, just grabs your arm and pulls you into the small equipment room, locking the door behind him.

"What the fuck was that?" he growls, crowding you against a wall of jerseys that smell like cologne and sweat.

"It was nothing! The kiss cam..." you start, but he cuts you off.

"I don't give a shit about the kiss cam," he snarls, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. "He touched you. He put his mouth on you."

"It was only my cheek, Jack!" you push back, your own anger rising. "And even if I did let himm kiss me, so what? We're not together. You don't own me."

His eyes darken at your defiance. "Don't I?" he challenges, his lips finding your neck, biting hard enough to make you gasp. "Every time I'm inside you, I'm marking what's mine."

"Possessive much?" you retort, but your body betrays you, arching into his touch despite your words.

His hands are everywhere, tearing at your clothes, his mouth claiming yours in a bruising kiss. There's no gentleness, no asking, just taking like he needs to erase every trace of Mike's touch with his own.

"Say it," he demands, his fingers digging into your thighs as he lifts you against the wall. "Tell me who you belong to."

"Fuck you," you spit back, turning your head away from his demanding gaze.

Jack chuckles, a dark, dangerous sound that sends shivers down your spine. "Oh, you will," he promises, his hand sliding between your thighs. "But first, I'm going to remind you why you keep coming back."

His fingers find you already wet, despite your anger. "See? Your body knows who it belongs to, even if your mouth wants to be difficult."

You hate that he's right, hate that your body responds to him so easily, hate that the thought of him claiming you so possessively makes you ache with need.

He enters you in one hard thrust, filling you completely, stealing your breath. His pace is punishing from the start, each thrust a reminder of his possession, of his anger, of his need to control you.

"Never again," he growls against your ear as he pounds into you. "No one touches you and looks at you like that, ever again."

You're lost in the sensation, in the overwhelming need that pours off him in waves. When you come, it's with a cry that's equal parts pleasure and frustration, a surrender that feels like defeat.

Afterward, he holds you against his chest, his heartbeat still racing. "I mean it," he says, his voice low and serious. "Stay away from him."

You pull away, dressing in silence, your body still humming with pleasure but your mind racing with resentment. "You don't get to tell me who I can be friends with, Jack."

"I do when they're trying to fuck what's mine," he retorts, watching you with those intense eyes.

"What about "we're not together" do you not understand?," you ask him, your voice firm despite the tremor in your hands. "You. Don't. Own. Me."

Jack steps closer, backing you against the door again. "Maybe not," he concedes, his voice dropping to a whisper. "But every time you leave here, you're marked. Every time you're with him, you'll remember how I felt inside you. Every time he looks at you, you'll wonder if I'm watching."

He leans in, his lips brushing your ear. "So go ahead. Be friends with him. But every time you're with him, remember in whose bed you'll always keep on ending up in."

hiii, thank you so much! I did Connor's first, but I will do one for Will next (promise) <3

NSFW Alphabet / Connor Bedard

TW: MDNI, Smut.

A - Aftercare (what is it like after sex?)

After sex with Connor, you'd experience a surprisingly tender side. Despite his competitive intensity on the ice, he becomes incredibly gentle and attentive afterward. He'll likely wrap his arms around you, stroke your hair, and make sure you're comfortable. He's the type to clean you up with warm cloths and just hold you quietly, sometimes whispering how amazing you were.

B - Body part (favorite part of your body and his)

Connor is proud of his biceps and forearms, they're something he's worked hard to develop. He loves how they look when he's flexing, especially during sex when he's supporting himself above you. As for his favorite part of your body, he's secretly obsessed with your hips and waist and how they feel under his hands when he's pulling you closer to him or when he is gripping you during intimate moments.

C - Cum (anything about coming)

Connor has an intense fixation on coming inside you and watching it drip out. The visual of his release leaking from you drives him wild with possessive pride. He loves the intimacy of filling you up completely, but what truly excites him is the aftermath, spreading your legs afterward to watch his cum slowly seep out. Sometimes he'll even use his fingers to push it back inside, claiming you all over again. .

D - Dirty secret

Connor has a secret obsession with anal play that he's terrified to communicate. He fantasizes constantly about trying anal sex with you, experimenting with butt plugs and exploring that forbidden territory. The thought of being inside your tightest hole drives him wild, but he's so afraid of hurting you or making you uncomfortable that he can't bring himself to ask. Sometimes during doggy style, he'll let his thumb drift dangerously close to your ass, testing your reaction before pulling back, frustrated with his own inability to voice his deepest desires.

E - Experience (experience in sex)

Connor has had some hookups, but he's nowhere near as experienced as people might assume. His intense focus on hockey has left little time for sexual exploration. The encounters he's had were often rushed and somewhat disconnected, quick releases between games or during short off-seasons. He knows the mechanics but lacks the nuanced experience that comes with longer-term sexual relationships.

F - Favorite position

Missionary is definitely his go-to. He loves being able to see your face, watch your eyes roll towards the back of your head or how you bite your lip to stop yourself from moaning too loud. He also loves how his arms flex as he supports himself above you and the way his necklace dangles in your face is something he finds incredibly hot.

G - Goofy (how serious is he during sex?)

During sex, Connor is mostly focused and serious, but not in an intimidating way. He's concentrated on your pleasure and the moment. However, there are times when something awkward happens (a weird noise or an uncomfortable position) that he'll break into a grin or even a laugh. He doesn't take himself too seriously and can appreciate the humor in intimate situations.

H - Hair (personal hygiene?)

Connor definitely has hair down there, that happy trail doesn't stop at his waistline. He keeps it trimmed, maintaining a natural but neat appearance. The dark hair contrasts with his fair skin and he's really comfortable with his natural body hair.

I - Intimacy (what is it like during sex with him?)

Sex with Connor is deeply intimate despite his young age. He's incredibly focused on connection, always maintaining eye contact and frequently checking in to make sure you're enjoying yourself. He'll whisper compliments and praise, telling you how beautiful you look and how good you feel.

J - Jack off (how much does he masturbate?)

Connor masturbates regularly but not excessively, probably a few times a week, especially when traveling or during periods without a partner. He absolutely loves masturbating in front of you. There's something incredibly vulnerable yet thrilling about being watched in such an intimate moment that drives him wild. He'll often suggest it when you're too tired for sex but he still needs release. He maintains intense eye contact while stroking himself, putting on a show that's both authentic and performative.

K - Kink

Connor likely has a control kink, particularly enjoying power dynamics where he's in charge. As a young star who's constantly in the spotlight, he might find release in being able to control situations privately. I think he'd be particularly into orgasm control and denial. He likes bringing you to the edge repeatedly before allowing release.

L - Location (where does he like to have sex)

Connor's favorite location for sex is either at his or your place where you can be as loud as you want without worry. He loves the freedom of being able to express yourselves fully without concern for neighbors or roommates. Bonus points when you're both on vacation and the hotel has a nice view of the beach or the mountains, he'll take you against the window, enjoying the combination of your body and the scenery.

M - Motivation (what excites him?)

What really excites Connor is seeing your genuine arousal and pleasure. He's incredibly turned on by knowing he's satisfying you. Physical touches that show desire, like your nails digging into his back, you toying with his necklace or your hands gripping his arms drive him wild. He's also motivated by anticipation and build-up; teasing and foreplay that builds tension over hours or even days makes the eventual release that much more satisfying for him.

N - No (what wouldn’t he do with you?)

Connor would absolutely refuse to share you with anyone else in any capacity. His jealousy runs surprisingly deep, and the thought of another person seeing you naked, let alone touching you, fills him with possessive rage. Additionally, he's hesitant about anything that might leave permanent marks on visible parts of your body, worried about how others might perceive it. While he enjoys leaving hickeys in hidden places, anything more permanent or obvious is completely off the table.

O - Oral (does he prefer to give/receive?)

Connor definitely prefers receiving oral, though he does enjoy giving too. When you go down on him, he takes complete control. His hands will tangle in your hair, not just guiding but directing your movements. He'll thrust up into your mouth, sometimes making you gag slightly, which he finds incredibly hot. He loves watching you struggle to take all of him, praising you with a gravelly voice when you do. When giving oral, he's enthusiastic but less skilled, focusing more on his own pleasure than yours. He likes when you tug at his hair and guide his head, using your hands to show him exactly what you like.

P - Pace (how does he like to do it?)

Connor typically prefers fast-paced sex with deep, hard thrusts. He's an intense lover who likes to feel completely consumed by the act, often losing himself in the rhythm of pounding into you. His athletic endurance allows him to maintain this vigorous pace for extended periods. However, he's capable of adjusting when needed, sometimes he'll slow down, making love to you with deep, deliberate strokes that hit every sensitive spot inside you.

Q - Quickie (does he like them?)

Connor enjoys quickies but doesn't prefer them over longer and more intimate sessions. He sees them as exciting and practical in certain situations, like before games or when time is limited, but he'd rather take his time and fully enjoy the experience with you.

R - Risk (would he take risks?)

Connor isn't particularly risky when it comes to sex. His jealousy and protectiveness override any thrill-seeking tendencies in this area. He might tease you in public, whispering dirty things in your ear during team events, sliding his hand up your thigh under tables at restaurants, or pressing his hardening cock against your ass when no one's looking. But anything more extreme than that is off the table.

S - Stamina (how long can he last during sex?)

Connor has impressive stamina but it comes in bursts. He can last for one exceptionally long session, often 45 minutes of continuous activity, but then needs significant recovery time afterward. When he does recover for round two, it's typically shorter but more intense, as if he's trying to make up for the recovery time.

T - Toy(s)(would he use toys?)

Connor is open-minded about toys, particularly for watching you. He loves watching you use them on yourself while he jerks off. The sight of you pleasuring yourself with a vibrator while he strokes himself drives him wild. He's also curious about trying a paddle or flogger to spank you if you're interested. The idea of leaving red marks on your ass from something other than his hand turns him on.

U - Unfair (how much does he like to tease you?)

Connor is definitely a tease, and he knows it. He'll often deny you release just to watch you squirm, wearing a shit-eating grin the entire time. He loves making you beg, sometimes requiring you to say how he's the best you've ever had before he'll allow you to come. He'll bring you to the edge repeatedly, only to pull back at the last second, enjoying your frustration immensely. Sometimes he'll make you count his strokes or name every hockey team in his league before letting you orgasm, using his competitive nature to create games that prolong your pleasure (and his power over it).

V - Volume (how vocal is he during sex?)

Connor isn't overly loud during sex but definitely not silent either. He tends to make deep groans and grunts, especially as he approaches his climax. He also whispers a lot, praise, dirty words that make you clench around him and questions about what feels good. His voice gets a bit rougher during sex.

W - Wild card (random thought about him)

Connor would absolutely love you wearing vibrating panties in public. The idea of you wearing them at a team dinner or media event, while he controls the remote, would drive him nuts. He'd start with low, teasing vibrations, watching you try to maintain composure as the pleasure builds. He'd lean in to whisper filthy things in your ear, "Don't you dare come yet," or "Look how desperate you are already." The power he'd feel watching you squirm, knowing he's the only one who knows what's happening, would be intoxicating. He'd love seeing your flushed cheeks and dilated eyes, knowing you're trying so hard to be proper while he's secretly making you fall apart.

X - X-ray (how big is it?)

Connor is well-proportioned but not overwhelmingly large. He's probably around 7 inches when erect, with a nice thickness that's satisfying without being intimidating. He has a slight upward curve that's perfect for hitting certain spots inside you.

Y - Yearning

Connor has a high sex drive but it's closely tied to his performance on the ice. After a good game, he's insatiable, wanting to celebrate his success with physical intimacy. After a loss, however, his sex drive plummets, he becomes withdrawn and focused on analyzing his performance. He can go about a week without sex during regular periods, but during intense training camps, he might go longer without even thinking about it. For him, sex is both reward and distraction, something to enjoy when things are going well, but something that can wait when hockey needs his full attention.

Z - Zzz (how fast is he asleep after sex?)

I love writing about jealous/possessive men <3

Marked Territory / Connor Bedard

pairing: Connor Bedard x FemaleReader description: When a night out at a bar takes an unexpected turn, Connor's possessive side emerges.  TW: Smut, MDNI, dominant/submissive dynamics, rough sex, spanking, marking (hickeys/bruises), blindfold use, friends to lovers, orgasm control/denial, use of Y/N (like 3 times).

The bar pulses with bass-heavy music that vibrates through the floorboards. You're tucked into a corner booth with friends, the air thick with the scent of cheap beer and expensive cologne. Across from you, Connor leans back, his shirt tucked into his shorts, radiating an effortless confidence that makes heads turn when he entered a room.

He scrolls through his phone, but his attention is clearly elsewhere. His jaw is set in that tight way you recognize from his bad moods. When you catch his eye and wave him over, his expression instantly softens. He slides into the booth beside you, his arm brushing against yours and sending electricity through your body.

"Hey," you say, leaning closer. "You look kinda bored."

He chuckles, a low rumble in his chest. "You're right about that." He shifts closer, voice dropping to a whisper meant only for you. "You're distracting me, though."

You blush. You've harbored a secret crush on Connor for months now, hoping the feeling is mutual.

A few drinks later, a muscular guy slides into the empty seat next to you. His smile is a little too charming as his eyes roam over your body.

"Hey there," he says. "Haven't seen you here before."

"I'm here with friends," you reply politely, giving him a small smile.

"Sure you are," he says, voice dropping an octave. "I'm Mark. What's your name?"

"Y/N," you say, feeling Connor stiffen beside you.

Mark leans closer, invading your space. "I'd love to get to know you better. Maybe somewhere more private?"

You don't answer immediately, instead youquickly glance at Connor, seeking his reaction.

"No," Connor says, his voice sharp. "She's not going anywhere with you, dude."

Mark looks surprised. "Excuse me?"

Connor stands, towering over the guy. "I said she's not going anywhere with you. She's here with me. I'm not going to repeat myself."

He turns to you, eyes blazing. "Come on, we're going. Now."

"Connor, what the hell?" you whisper as he pulls you from the booth.

Outside in the cool night air he turns to you, his face angry. "Why were you flirting with him?"

"What are you talking about? I wasn't flirting with him," you protest. "I was just being polite."

He steps closer, his presence overwhelming. "You were smiling at him. Leaning into him. You have no idea what you do to me when you behave like that."

He grabs your face, fingers pressing into your cheeks. "I hate seeing other guys looking at you, Y/N. Wanting you. Touching you. It kills me. Because you're mine. You always have been."

Your heart hammers against your ribs. The possessiveness in his voice is intoxicating.

"Connor, I'm not..."

"I know," he interrupts, thumb brushing your bottom lip. "I know I haven't been very good at expressing my feelings. But I want you. I've always wanted you. And I'm not going to let anyone else take what's mine."

He pulls you into a rough kiss, his lips demanding and hungry. You melt against him, hands tangling in his hair. When he pulls back, his eyes are dark with lust.

"Let me take you home," he breathes.

You nod eagerly. He leads you to his truck, opening the door before climbing in behind the wheel. The drive home is silent, thick with anticipation.

At his place, he kicks the door shut and pulls you against him, lips crashing onto yours again. He backs you against the wall, his hands roaming over your body, squeezing your breasts roughly.

You moan, back arching against the wall. "Connor..."

"You're such a tease," he growls, hand sliding down your panties. "Flirting with other guys at the bar, acting all innocent. I saw the way you looked at him. You wanted him, didn't you?"

"No," you shake your head. "I only want you."

"Prove it," he orders, lifting you into his arms. You wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you to the bedroom. He lays you down, his body covering yours.

He pulls his shirt off, revealing his chest and arms. You gasp at the muscles rippling under his skin.

"You're staring," he smirks. "Like you've never seen a naked man before."

He pushes your skirt up, exposing you to him. He kneels between your legs, spreading them wide. His hand slides over your slit, testing your wetness.

"So ready for me," he whispers. "Already dripping for me."

He positions himself at your entrance and slowly pushes inside. You gasp, back arching as he fills you completely. He moves slowly at first, letting you adjust, before picking up the pace.

He thrusts into you hard and fast, hips slapping against yours. You moan, head falling back. He grabs your hips, holding you in place as he pounds into you.

"You like this?" he asks breathlessly. "You like being fucked by your best friend?"

"Yes," you breathe. "I love it."

He spanks your ass hard, the sting mixing with pleasure. "Good girl. You're finally listening."

He continues to fuck you, hips snapping forward, hitting that sweet spot that makes your vision blur. You reach back, nails digging into his skin.

"Look in the mirror," he commands, pointing to the full-length mirror on the wall. "Watch me fuck you."

You turn your head, eyes locking onto the mirror. You see his powerful body hovering over yours, muscles bulging as he moves. You see the pure lust in his eyes as he buries himself deep inside you.

"You look so beautiful," he murmurs. "So fucking beautiful."

He spanks your ass again, harder. "Take it. Take every inch of me."

You scream as your body tenses, the coil of pleasure tightening in your belly. "Connor, I'm going to cum!"

"Cum for me, baby," he orders.

You scream as you come, body shaking uncontrollably. He continues to thrust, riding out your orgasm as his own reaches its peak.

He groans deep in his throat, body shuddering as he spills himself inside you with a final, powerful thrust.

He collapses on top of you, chest heaving. He pulls out slowly, leaving you feeling empty and stretched.

"You did so well," he whispers, kissing your forehead.

You pant, heart hammering. "That was..."

"The best sex I've ever had," he finishes, pulling you into his arms. He looks up at you, eyes burning with desire. "You're mine now, Y/N. No more of that best friend bullshit. I want to be your boyfriend."

Yes, absolutely! I’m always happy to take requests for Beckett. And if you have requests for other players as well, feel free to send them in. I can’t promise I’ll get to everything right away, but I love hearing everyone’s ideas and seeing which stories people would like to read.

pairing: Beckett Sennecke x FemaleReader description: Beckett returns from another grueling game and joins you in the bathtub. TW: MDNI, Smut, fingering, dirty talk, overstimulation, marking (hickeys), nipple play.

The front door clicks shut, the sound echoing through the quiet apartment. You sink deeper into the hot water, closing your eyes as the steam rises around you. The bathroom is your sanctuary, the only place where you can truly relax after a long day.

"Someone's enjoying themselves," a low voice drawls from the doorway.

Your eyes snap open to find Beckett leaning against the doorframe, his hockey bag slung over his shoulder. He looks exhausted, but there's a familiar glint in his eyes that makes your heart race.

"Long game?" you ask, watching as he drops his bag by the door.

"Long enough," he replies, stripping off his shirt to reveal the lean, muscular torso you know so well. "But I think I've found something much more interesting to do now."

He crosses the room in three long strides, kneeling beside the tub. His eyes rake over your naked body, lingering on your breasts before moving down to where the water laps at your hips.

"Mind if I join you?" he asks, though his tone makes it clear he's not really asking.

Before you can answer, he's already sliding into the tub behind you, his strong arms wrapping around your waist as he pulls you back against his chest. The water sloshes over the sides, pooling on the floor, but neither of you cares.

"I've been thinking about this all night," he murmurs against your ear, his hands already beginning to roam. "Thinking about you, here, naked and waiting for me."

His lips find the sensitive spot behind your ear, his teeth grazing the skin lightly. You shiver despite the heat of the water, leaning your head back against his shoulder.

"Beck," you breathe, your hands coming up to rest on his arms.

"Shh," he whispers, his hands sliding up to cup your breasts. "Just let me take care of you."

His thumbs brush against your nipples, teasing them into hard peaks. You gasp, arching your back as pleasure courses through you. He chuckles low, clearly enjoying your reaction.

"So responsive," he murmurs, pinching your nipples gently. "I love how your body reacts to me."

One hand drifts down, tracing patterns on your stomach before sliding even lower, parting your folds. You're already wet and not just from the water.

"Someone's eager," he teases, his fingers finding your clit. "Have you been waiting for me like this all night?"

You can only moan in response, your hips bucking against his hand as he begins to circle your clit with expert precision. His other hand continues to play with your breasts, alternating between gentle caresses and firm pinches that leave you gasping.

"Beck, please," you beg, your body trembling with need.

"Please what?" he asks, his voice a low growl. "Please touch you? Please make you come? Tell me what you want."

"I want you," you manage to gasp out. "I want you inside me."

"Not yet," he says, his fingers slipping lower to tease your entrance. "I want to hear you beg some more."

He slides one finger inside you, then another, curling them to hit that spot that makes your vision blur. You cry out, your hands gripping his arms as pleasure overwhelms you.

"That's it," he murmurs, his thumb returning to your clit. "Let me hear you. Let me hear how good I make you feel."

His lips find your neck, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin. You know he's leaving marks, dark purple hickeys that will be visible tomorrow, but you can't bring yourself to care. All that matters is the pleasure building inside you, threatening to consume you entirely.

"You're so close, aren't you?" he whispers against your skin. "I can feel it. Come for me, baby. Let me feel you come around my fingers."

His words are your undoing. With a cry, you shatter, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure crash over you. But he doesn't stop, his fingers continuing their relentless assault as he pushes you toward another orgasm.

"Beckett," you gasp, trying to push his hand away. "It's too much."

"No," he says firmly, his free hand gripping your thigh, holding your legs open. "You don't get to decide when we're done. I do."

He shifts position, spreading your legs wider as he increases the pressure on your clit. You're oversensitive now, every touch sending jolts of pleasure and pain through your body, but he doesn't let up.

"Look at me," he commands, and you force your eyes open to meet his in the dim light. "I want to see you when you come again."

His fingers move faster, harder, pushing you toward the edge once more. You're trembling uncontrollably now, your body completely at his mercy. When you finally come again, it's even more intense than the first time, your vision blurring as you cry out his name.

"Good girl," he murmurs, finally withdrawing his fingers. He brings them to his lips, tasting your arousal with a satisfied smirk.

For a moment, you both just lie there, panting as the water begins to cool around you. Then Beckett shifts, pulling out of you before gathering you into his arms.

"Come on," he murmurs, standing up and reaching for a towel. "Let's get you to bed."

He wraps you in a fluffy towel, his touch gentle now as he dries you off before lifting you into his arms and carrying you to the bedroom. There, he lays you down gently before joining you, pulling the covers over both of you.

"Sleep," he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "You've earned it."

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.

he looked so good !!! I hope this is what you imagined <3

Under the Desk / Connor Bedard

pairing: Connor Bedard x FemaleReader description: Connor's giving you the silent treatment, so when he has an important interview from home, you decide to crawl under his desk and the rest is history. TW: MDNI, Smut, oral sex (m receiving), exhibitionism, edging, established relationship.

The interview starts in five minutes and you wish you could talk to your boyfriend before it starts, but Connor's been pointedly ignoring you for three hours now. His silent treatment is childish, you think, especially since your only crime was declining to join his 6 AM gym session. You'd offered to go later in the day, but no, that wasn't good enough for Mr. Professional Athlete who apparently believes 6 AM is the only acceptable time to work out.

Now he's sitting at his desk, adjusting his laptop camera and running a hand through his perfectly styled hair. He's wearing a simple black t-shirt that stretches deliciously across his broad shoulders and those ridiculously expensive athletic pants that hug his muscular thighs in ways that should be illegal. Even when he's being a dick, he's distractingly handsome.

"Five minutes," he mutters to himself, checking his phone. Not to you, of course. You don't exist in his world right now.

That's about to change.

You slide off the couch silently, moving like a shadow across the hardwood floor. Connor doesn't notice, he's too busy reviewing his notes for the interview, his brow furrowed in concentration.

Perfect.

When you reach his desk, you pause, watching the way his legs are stretched out under it. His feet are bare, toes occasionally flexing as he reads over his talking points. You can already see the tension in his shoulders, the slight stiffness in his posture that tells you he's still annoyed with you.

Good. Let him be a little bitch.

Your fingers trace the outline of his right calf, starting at his ankle and slowly working upward. He twitches slightly but continues reviewing his notes, his expression never changing. You smile to yourself as your nails gently scratch up his legs, watching goosebumps rise on his skin.

The laptop pings, someone's joining the call.

Connor straightens immediately, his professional persona sliding into place like a mask. "Hey, great to connect with you," he says, his voice dropping into that smooth, slightly deeper register he uses for interviews.

Perfect timing.

Your mouth follows where your fingers have been, pressing soft kisses along his inner thigh. You can feel the muscle tense beneath your lips, and you know he's fighting to keep still. His hand drops under the desk, not touching you yet, just hovering as if he's considering pushing you away.

"So, Connor," the journalist's voice comes through the laptop speakers. "Great season so far. You're really proving yourself despite the team's struggles."

"Thanks, man," Connor replies, his voice impressively steady. "Just trying to contribute to the team's success, you know? Every game is a learning experience."

You bite back a laugh as your fingers trace the growing bulge in his pants. His hips jerk involuntarily and you can hear the slight hitch in his breathing as he struggles to maintain composure.

Your fingers deftly undo his drawstring and you slowly pull down his pants and boxers, just enough to free him. He's already hard, and you waste no time taking him into your mouth with a slow, deliberate movement that has his hips bucking forward instantly.

Connor's hand flies under the desk, tangling in your hair in a silent plea for you to stop. You respond by taking him deeper, swirling your tongue around him in ways that make his legs shake. You can feel him trying to hold still, trying to maintain some semblance of professionalism while you're wrecking him from under the desk.

"You've had some really standout moments this season," the journalist continues, completely oblivious. "That goal against the Bruins was incredible."

"Thanks," Connor says, his voice cracking slightly. "Just, uh, trying to do my part…"

You hum around him and his whole body tenses. You can feel the way he's fighting to keep his hips still, fighting not to thrust into your mouth like he so desperately wants to. His grip on your hair tightens, not pushing you away anymore but holding you in place as he struggles to maintain control.

"How do you handle the pressure of being the face of a rebuilding franchise?" the journalist asks.

You take him deep again, working him with your mouth and hands in a rhythm that has his toes curling against the hardwood floor. His hips begin to move with you, unable to stop himself from thrusting into your mouth despite the ongoing interview.

"Pressure is, ah, part of the job," he says, his voice hoarse. "You learn to, uh, channel it into your performance…"

You slow down again, edging him until he's practically squirming in his chair. His breathing is ragged now, and you can hear the slight tremor in his voice as he tries to answer the journalist's questions. He's completely at your mercy and you love it.

"What are your goals for the remainder of the season?" the interviewer asks.

You take him as deep as you can and his answer comes out as a strangled moan that he quickly tries to cover with a cough. His hips buck into your mouth once, twice, and you can feel him getting closer to the edge.

"Just, uh, continue to improve," he manages to say, his voice cracking. "Every game is a chance to, ah, get better…"

You finally take pity on him, increasing your pace until his body goes rigid and he spills into your mouth with a muffled groan. You continue working him through his orgasm, prolonging the pleasure until he's completely spent and slumping in his chair.

"…and that's all the time we have," the interviewer says cheerfully. "Thanks for joining me, Connor!"

Connor manages a weak "You're welcome" before ending the call and dropping his head to the desk with a thud. You crawl out from under the desk, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand and grinning at him.

He looks wrecked, hair disheveled, face flushed and chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath. His eyes are dark with desire and something that looks suspiciously like admiration.

"You're going to pay for that," he says, but there's no heat in his voice, only exhaustion and a promise that sends a thrill through you.

"I'm counting on it," you reply, leaning in to kiss him deeply.

His arms wrap around you, pulling you onto his lap as he deepens the kiss. "You're lucky I love you," he murmurs against your lips. "Round two after I recover?"