pez3639

[pez3639]

if he looks at me like that one of us is getting pregnant

[pez3639]

i’m giggling and kicking my feet thinking about quinn buying a smiski. like i need to hide them around his apartment 😔

Quinn with a girl who is obsessed with labubus like them standing in line waiting for the new ones to come out?

Hello, lovely. I love popmart or any blindbox figurines. The rush. The cuteness of the little figurines. I love all the trinkets. Just sharing: As a proud (co-)owner (shared custody with my youngest sister) of the labubus, the rush of having that little monster trinket is so nice. I won't take any hate on my lovely Labubu. She's just a gorl. She might be ugly but it is why I love her. (I am scared of her tbh) I fear I have lost many times in the checkout battle for V3. Truly, my family is only trying to get one so that my sister has one. Oh, to be the youngest. For blind boxes, not just pop mart, Make sure to spend wisely! Manage expectations. If all else fail, we cope and enjoy. You bought them, they're your babies now 😆End of my little yapping. We got a bonus in your POV here. Again, optional. yesyes. Hope you enjoy this, lovely!

Lines plus Chances

TW/CW: 18+ MDNI, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content (omitted / only kisses), Suggestive tones (Quinn and you got a bit horny in POVs), Mentions of blind boxes (specifically pop mart’s but more on in general i think)

Count: 2171 + 1044 words | Masterlist | Taglist

You’re still sleepy. Quinn wraps your thin scarf around your neck, adjusting your hood. He grins when you yawn, looking absolutely cozy on your camping chair which he had set up the moment you two arrived. He scoots closer, so you can get cozier by leaning your head on his shoulder. You do, sighing and mumbling incoherent things about the early spring morning which is still cold but warmer compared to dawn. You are incredibly cute.

You two have been in line for two hours now—since 4:30AM—but it is still hours away from the mall opening. Fortunately, though, you two manage to get the fourth and fifth spot in the line, especially when half an hour later, people suddenly appear, the queue snaking beyond his line of sight. It’s still unbelievable that people line up this much for blind boxes. That’s right. You two are here for a specific restock of a new plush keychain. If not for you, he doesn’t see himself lining up this early for toys.

How did this come to be?

Well, a week ago, in two occasions, he noticed how frustrated you were getting whenever you got your laptop, tablet, and your phone—sometimes even his—laid out in front of you. You were so quick typing or clicking away. Your eyes shone with hope and determination, like how you would whenever you’re making your reports or acquiring concert tickets of your favorite band. So much hope, only for you to crash down in a silent pout. He tried to ask you about what happened, but you turned away from him, sulking in your reading nook.

It took him quite an effort to comfort you, especially when he was so fucking clueless on why you would sulk that much. He even tried to bribe you with your favorite cookies and ice cream. He tried and tried, but you ended up with tear-filled eyes, muttering, "Not important."

That was a lie. How could it not be important when you are so dejected like the whole world suddenly turned its back on you? It hurt to see you sad, but then you sprung up, announcing that you needed to go out, huffing about the need to be alone to shop. You said it with so much fervor that he let you go after he received a sloppy kiss on the cheek. For the time that you were gone, he was pacing in your home, absolutely wrecked in worry, until you came home with huge shopping bags.

The bags were familiar to him. He had seen them folded in your stack of paper bags. You bought that stuff again. Those toys from a particular store. Only at that time, you purchased more than you had ever. For you and him. You taught him the ways of unboxing, making him pick his favorites—your favorites because he copied you—and how to open it. Honestly, Quinn never cared for these small trinkets, but he loved you happy for gifting him. You got excited for him when he got what he "wanted". You were so happy. Your grin was so wide that your cheeks flushed. You made space for him on your shelves. Everything you did caused his heart to lurch out of his chest.

It almost made Quinn forget how you sulked earlier. Almost. The memory of your sadness—your shoulders caving forwards, your pout, your glassy eyes, your grumbles—haunted him. He didn't like it when you felt sad. He needed to do something.

Thus, he did his initial research. He saw the brand of those boxes. He found the website and saw several other figurines there. Although, he was confused. So, when you took his phone again, holing up in your home office, Quinn followed you. You didn't notice him at all. You were so focused. From livestream to websites. You looked like you were going to battle but when the timer hit zero, the item you were scrambling for, a mischievous-looking plush doll, was sold out. Just like that. In a single blink.

"No. Not again." Your voice sounded so quiet.

"What's a Labubu?" He asked.

You jumped, screaming, clutching your shirt. You started scolding him for sneaking around, going on about knocking and announcing himself. He took it, listening with a silent smile on his face, because you didn’t sulk even if you were irritated with him instead. After minutes of that, you started to explain about the figurine, giving him a little backstory of it, complaining about the obnoxious demand for it, ranting about the livestream and easy-to-crash website. Quinn listened, humming and nodding, while he scrolled and saw an announcement you may have missed. There would be a restock in a nearby mall.

"Why don't we go to their store instead?" He offered as soon as you deflated beside him, burying yourself in his arm. His words brought you up, your head slightly tilting to the side. "It says there will be stocks in a couple of days in—"

"The lines are insane, Q," you sighed, your hands tightening around his arm, resting your head against his shoulder. “They’re currently a thing now.”

"Have you tried to go there?" Quinn softly asked, reaching to tuck your loose hair behind your ear. You shook your head, sighing again. "Is there another way to buy those things?"

"I refuse to buy from resellers," you huffed. Disdain laced your voice. "They sell them at outrageous prices!"

Quinn had no idea what to do. You looked worked-up at the mere mention of buying somewhere else. It did make sense to him. He was not that clueless not to know about resellers. They were all such a pain in the ass no matter what kind of goods to buy. You were mumbling into his sleeve when an idea dawned at him. He checked the date, making sure he had nothing important planned for that day. Even if there would, he can easily take a rain check on them. You always preceded everything.

Pressing a kiss on your head, he said, “Let’s go early. We can camp out there.”

He saw your protests, but also how your eyes sparkled with excitement and mirth. You mounted his lap, your hands grasping his cheeks and jaw, craning his head up. You said in quick succession that your words almost melted together, "Really? You'll accompany me? What if we need to camp out before sunrise? Are you sure? I’ve always wanted to try camping outside to buy something!”

All Quinn saw was you and you and you.

You were happy. He made you happy. Butterflies tumbled and flied and wreaked havoc in his stomach. He nodded, his breath stuttering.

"Okay, okay," you squealed, pressing kisses on his lips. "Promise me, Quinny," you demanded, giggling to make it known you were just kidding.

With his hands holding your waist, his eyes dropping to your beautiful lips, he still muttered, "I promise."

Your grin slightly eased. The atmosphere instantaneously shifted as your eyebrows curved, your breath hitching, your skin erupting in goosebumps. Quinn took his time watching you. His eyes roamed over your face—from your lips to your cheeks, to your nose, to your eyes. You’re so magnificent. When your tongue darted to swipe over your lower lip, only then he pulled you for a kiss. He gripped your waist tighter, tugging you closer so you sat over his growing erection. He made a promise to himself that you would get one of those plush toys that you wanted so much. Whatever you wanted would be yours.

Quinn can still taste you even after days. The taste of the sweet candy you munched on before you had tried checkout. The taste of your—He needs to stop being a horny fucker. What the fuck is wrong with him?

He swallows his groans, because he truly can still taste you on his tongue, and he can’t fucking lie to himself. He forces his urges down, knowing he can’t just leave you out here to take care of his growing problem. Removing his cap, he runs his hand through his hair, inhaling deeply, exhaling as slowly as he can. He calms down further by looking at the bright skies.

“Hot!” You abruptly complain, parting from him to take off your scarf. You are suddenly so awake that it distracts him further from his dilemma. “Is it 10AM yet?”

Quinn barely contained his laugh. It’s obviously not. "No."

"Kill me now," you groan which draws his chuckle. You huff, pouting at him. “I’m bored.”

"Maybe you should've brought your book," Quinn teases. He knows the contents of your little purse. Just your wallet and your phone. He’s prepared for this campout. He’s the one holding a bigger bag with a packed breakfast and lunch, water bottles, and especially your e-reader and his. He takes the last essential to a campout from the bag and hands you yours. “Here.”

Your ‘oooh’ is so adorable that he’s not prepared for you to peck him on the lips and cheeks. Your ‘thank you’ is lost in his ears as heat streak down his body. He groans, looking away. Great. Now, he’s horny. Again. He grits his teeth, focusing on the scent of the city waking up. The smell of the pollution from cars helps.

He hears a rumble. He turns to you, seeing you avert your gaze, blush tinting your cheeks. He doesn’t comment or tease. He simply hands you the breakfast sandwich he prepared—a simple egg, bacon, and cheese combo in brioche bread. You grin is enough to make him blush too. He eats with you, listening to you ramble about different things. At some point, you start to people-watch, your eyes moving among the crowd. He does the same. He likes doing the same things as you.

“I want to have at least one box for each version, Quinn,” you whisper after he takes the sandwich wrapper from your hands, replacing it with a water bottle. You sip, blinking at him. “You know which ones to buy, right? You also need to one each. Please.” You squirm, looking worried. “Or maybe not. If you don’t want one—”

“I do,” he asserts, stopping you from spiraling, then he shows you the list where the top priorities are The Monsters plush dolls—Big into Energy, Have a Seat, and Exciting Macaron—then the rest should be other Labubu that are not blind boxes, because his research told there are other stuff, plush or not, there. “See? I had them all listed. I even crosschecked with the potential restock list. I want one too.”

Quinn still thinks he doesn’t care for those creatures, not realizing that he even listed his priority pulls which are his favorites for every series, which may or may not be a small indicator that he wants one now. He’s adamant that he’s only done that so you will be happy with him. And you are. You look so excited while your lips part as you gaze between him and his phone. That’s all that matters to him.

“I hope we get what we want.” You grin, scooting closer, opening your e-reader to resume reading your current reads. Again, he does the same.

You have no clue what he’s planning. Despite you telling him that you don’t want to purchase from resellers, he also has a list of them. He may or may not be talking with some, trying his best to determine if they’re legitimate or not. It’s hard, so he hopes the store has everything you need.

You two continue. There are times when Quinn stands up to talk with the staff that comes down to hand over entry stubs and when he gets rope into conversation of the ones next to you and him. However, he keeps his head low, not wanting to get recognize and cause unnecessary chaos. Even if you don’t mind him getting stopped for pictures, he does because you might get included in them. Despite wanting to be seen with you, he cares more about your privacy. Regardless, he goes undetected.

Soon, after you two somehow eat your lunch boxes before noon, after you two watch TikToks in your phone, after he has secretly taken a photo of you that he will print and frame, the mall finally opens.

He folds your chairs when he spots the staff coming. He hooks their straps and his bag on one shoulder. He smiles at the way you are bouncing on the balls of your feet. When he offers his hand, you immediately take it.

It makes his heart flutter. You make his heart flutter.

Your warmth feels nice in his hand.

He can’t deny the giddy feeling that buzzes his body, especially when you two arrived in the shop, when you snatches two baskets for him and you, when you dash to get your long-awaited plush.

You prove it again.

Prove that when you’re happy, he’s happy.

˚｡⋆ ❀ ˖ Bonus: Your POV ˖ ❀ ⋆｡˚

You gape at Quinn when he takes your basket with only three boxes, one for each set, because you don’t want to be greedy. You wonder where his basket is—maybe he doesn’t want to buy anything after all—but he basically push you to pick more.

“My treat,” he says. Before you can retort that you have your own money, he continues, “Dinner is on you.”

Just like that, he appeases you. Sometimes you wonder if you’r easy, but you really like the thought of treating him to dinners. “Deal, Quinny. Don’t you dare try to pay later!”

He chuckles, shaking his head. The sound makes you feel things in your chest and between your thighs. It just sounds so rumbly and the grin that always accompanies his laugh is so beautiful on his handsome face. It’s almost unfair.

You pick out a few more stuff, telling him about the lore of some. You’ve only learned it from TikTok. Someone really needs to take away that app from you because it’s the reason why you got obsessed with these.

“There, all done!” You beam, walking with Quinn to the counter. Your hands already itch to open what you picked out—

You find yourself gaping again, because you finally registered his words.

“I’ll take these three.” He points at the Labubus you have thoroughly inspected and tried to feel a pull of whatever’s inside to you. Then he points at the rest. “I need sets of these other ones,” he smoothly says.

The store clerk moves so quick that you can’t get a word in.

“Quinn, what are you doing?” You grip his arm, digging your fresh nail set into his muscular arm, biting your lip at the feel of his arm hairs under your touch. The man glances at you, then all at once has his arm on your waist, securing you to his side. “I don’t need sets! That’s overconsumption…” Your voice trail because you realize the new items are being placed into paper bags and next to already filled bags. “What did you do?”

“They got everything in my list. We’ll share them. You will share them with me, right?” He frowns. “Should I buy another set for myself—”

“No!”

“Okay. After this, we need to buy more shelves. Maybe a display cabinet?”

“I already have some of them at home! We’ll have duplicates. Duplicates.” You cross your arms and glare. “I got my shelves.”

Quinn doesn’t look fazed at all. He’s amused, his eyes shining with mischief and even pride. So smug. Your boyfriend is crazy. Quinn is crazy.

“I don’t think your shelves are enough. Maybe we need to move some of your plants—”

“Don’t touch my plants, Quintin,” you huff, rolling your eyes. “I’ll make space.”

You silently glare at the price projected on the screen. How can someone just spend that much amount in one transaction? For figurines? He’s worse than you. You may have created a monster. He almost gets rope into buying more but you simply say that you’re tired. No more questions. No more dilly-dallying. In less than ten minutes, you two are in his car.

“I will be giving away our duplicates, Q,” you grumble, worrying if both of your moms will like a random figurine. You hope they do. You browse your phone for restaurants for your dinner. You want to ask him what he prefers to eat but his eyes are burning a hole in your side. You gulp, trying to shake the feeling off. “Next time, don’t spend too much.”

When you finally look at him, you see a smile on his face. His eyes are trained on the road now.

“Our,” he echoes in a breathy voice. “Our duplicates, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s ours.” Your tone is firm, and it only makes him smile wider. You repeat his words in the store, “We’ll share them,”

“I love sharing with you,” he says, glancing at you.

His eyes look so warm, promising you more than you can understand. His words sound so gentle, filling you with so much love. Sometimes it hurts you to look at him. Every positive feeling in your body feels intense. Your heart is leaping, threatening to spill out of your chest. With your hand slightly shaking, you softly reach over, running your knuckle over his stubbles.

“Same,” you almost stumble with the word, because a lump forms in your throat.

Quinn takes your hand, running his thumb over your knuckles. He pulls them closer, pressing electrifying kisses on your fingers, on your knuckles, on the back of your hand.

Heat travels down your spine. An ache forms between your thighs when his lips linger on your skin, when he takes a deep breath as if he is breathing in your scent, marking it in his memory. You wonder if he likes the hand cream that you rubbed over it hours ago. Can he still smell it?

“Maybe we should do our unboxing after dinner or tomorrow.” Your voice rasps, sounding breathier, as you pant like you are being chased. No, you are being chased. Only Quinn already has you in his hold.

You bite your lower lip when his grip firms. His eyes slams on yours, his pupils blowing out, swallowing those light-colored irises of his. If he isn’t driving, you know that he will be on you. He simply gets you. Not a single hint in your words yet he knows. How can he see through you so easily?

He takes your hand to your lap, flattening his palm over it, reaching past to touch your thigh, prying it so you’re not crossing your legs anymore. You swear you can feel his heat through denim. A pathetic sound comes out of you, making him squeeze.

“Behave.” His voice drop an octave lower. Shivers race down your whole body at the delectable rumble. “I can’t drive faster than the limit.”

“Maybe you should,” you softly challenge.

You gasp at the sight of his jaw clenching, his stubble creating the perfect contrast that highlights the movement. So handsome. You can see the gears in his head turning, eyes glancing expertly between his mirrors, looking beyond.

Then he nods.

His foot presses down the gas pedal.

Lovelies @dancerbailey3 @loser-pretty-girl @r0wdymaize86 @tiredallthetimex @quinnintheabyss

[pez3639]

whatever sza said about a big boy i think i need it

[pez3639]

edit*** “southern charm” is being renamed bc i just realized i literally reblogged a quinny fic with that exact same name. my bad y’all did not mean to do that. if anything ill probably just scrap it out of respect for the author.

me asf rn

[pez3639]

as a southern girl who works in a bar, i love this yep 🙂‍↕️

SOUTHERN CHARM 　QUINN HUGHES

　　　quinn hughes x fem!reader

SUMMARY 　quinn comes across a bartender who’s southern accent not only catches him off guard, but also catches his attention.

contains 　mild alcohol use (mentions of beer and bartending), poorly described bar scene, romantic tension, use of y/n.

　　THE NEON SIGN above ‘Y/n's Taproom’ buzzed gently in the stillness of the Michigan summer night. It’s red glow casting a soft haze across the sidewalk. The air was thick with humidity, but cool now that the sun had slipped behind the trees. Moths danced around the overhead streetlamps, and music was played from various surrounding places. It was the kind of night that clung to your skin and slowed everything down in the best way possible.

Inside the bar, the lighting was dim and golden, the walls bathed in flickers from string lights hung along the ceiling beams. A low sound of country music could be heard — Zach Bryan or maybe Tyler Childers, something simple and easy to listen to. The place smelled like aged wood, spilled beer, and faint citrus from the cleaner y/n used behind the counter.

Y/n moved like she belonged there — because she did. She was twenty-three, young to most people, but years ahead in experience. She wiped down a glass with the kind of steady focus that came from running a place with her own two hands for years. The bar was hers, through and through.

Every scratched barstool, every creaky hinge, every regular who knew better than to start drama on her watch. She did the books, stocked the shelves, repaired the pipes, and handled drunks without flinching. It wasn't glamorous, but it was hers — and that made it enough.

Her hair was pulled into a loose knot at the back of her neck, though a few rebellious strands clung to her temples thanks to the lingering heat. She wore a faded tee, jeans, and a towel slung over her shoulder. Comfortable. Capable.

The door opened with a sharp chime, letting in a gust of lake scented air and a group of unfamiliar voices. Her eyes instinctively flicked to the entrance. Six men walked in, talking low, scanning the place like tourists unsure of where they'd landed. She didn't know them. And in a town like this, that meant something.

She kept her posture relaxed, but alert. Y/n knew her regulars by heart. These guys weren't from around here, and she didn't particularly care to add them to the roster.

The group tucked themselves into a booth in the back, half-shadowed by the flickering lights.

Y/n let her gaze linger just a second longer before looking away and turning back to the counter, her hands already moving to tidy up the bar out of habit.

She was halfway through wiping down the surface when one of the men stepped up to the bar. He looked to be about her age, maybe a couple years older — tall, with a kind face and wet hair that curled slightly at the edges.

His t-shirt clung to his shoulders in the heat, and there was a sunburn creeping across his nose.

He hesitated, then offered a small, unsure smile.

Y/n returned it with the kind of easy charm she'd perfected over years of serving beers and shutting down bad pickup lines. "What can I get for you?" she asked, her accent smooth and slow, still carrying the lilt of somewhere further south.

His eyes widened, just a little. Not in a rude way — more like she'd surprised him. He blinked, momentarily caught off guard. "Uh, just six Coors, please."

She chuckled, her eyes crinkling. "Didn't expect the accent, huh?"

He scratched the back of his neck, embarrassed but smiling. "Something like that."

She laughed again, the sound warm and effortless, and turned to the cooler. As she pulled out the beers, she could feel his gaze on her — not in a heavy, leering way, but curious. Interested.

When she set the six cans on the bar in front of him, he was still staring, like he hadn't meant to but didn't quite know how to stop.

She cleared her throat, raising an eyebrow with amusement. "Opened or closed?"

He blinked again, snapping out of it. "Uh — open."

She nodded, tapping on the screen. "Last name?"

"Hughes," he said, reaching into his back pocket and handing over his card.

She nodded, typing the name in and swiping the card with practiced ease. "Alright, Hughes," she said, pushing the beers towards him. "You boys behave back there."

Quinn — she caught the name on the card just before she had put it away — gave a half-smile and muttered something that sounded like a promise.

He walked the beers back to the booth, but his eyes lingered on her a beat too long.

The night carried on, slow and steady. Locals filtered in and out, some stopping to chat with her, others simply nodding on their way to their usual stools. But every so often, her gaze would drift to the booth in the back. And more often than not, Quinn was already looking at her.

It wasn't overt, wasn't desperate — just glances shared in the soft glow of hanging lights, in the brief silence between one song and the next.

When she laughed at something a regular said, he watched like he was trying to memorize the sound.

When he ran a hand through his hair, she noticed the way it curled at the ends, still damp from the lake or maybe a shower.

By midnight, the crowd had thinned, and the speaker played its last song — an old Tim Mcgraw tune that seemed to fill the quiet. Y/n wiped down the counter one last time, glancing over as Quinn rose from the booth and made his way back to the bar.

"You closing soon?" he asked, voice softer now.

"Couple minutes," she replied. "You need anything else?"

He hesitated, thumb tapping nervously on the wood. "Just one thing."

She raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

He smiled, a little crooked. "Your number. If that's alright."

Y/N leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, the ghost of a grin playing on her lips. "That depends, Hughes. You always this smooth with bartenders?"

He laughed, the sound low and warm. "Only the ones with southern charm."

She rolled her eyes, but her smile stayed. She grabbed a napkin, scribbled down her number, and slid it across the bar. "Don't make me regret that."

"I won't," he said, folding the napkin carefully before tucking it into his wallet. "Night, Y/n."

"Night, Quinn."

He walked out into the summer night, the door swinging shut behind him, letting in one last breath of lake air. And y/n just stood there for a moment, staring at the door like she wasn't quite ready to let it close.

NAVIGATION　　 ✶ 　　NHL MASTERLIST

© V A M P — plesse do not copy, repost, translate, or use my work without consent.

[pez3639]

i’m ducking sobbing. my stoned ass is gigglingggg

YOU GOT THE BABES A PUPPY?!

How did Bud react?🥹

It's not really his, but the next-door neighbour's dog recently gave birth (and the same neighbour owns a very friendly cat) and now and then lets Bud play with them and he's always ecstatic with a wide smile! He's a huge animal lover and it started with one day Luke thought he'd lost his own kid already, but found him sitting on the backdoor step, carefully stroking the neighbour's cat muttering a very sweet, 'gentle, gentle'.

"Remember, Bud, gentle." Luke smiles, and sits on the grass next to his, now, two-year-old. Bud wiggles, his excitement too much to contain with his grin as Luke holds the puppy over his lap. "Sit still for me."

Bud sits cross-legged and complies, the three-week-old golden retriever puppy - sleepy and calm - fits comfortably on his lap, its chin resting on top of his knee. Carefully, he strokes the puppy’s back, his eyes wide and full of light, concentrating on not applying too much pressure.

“Wooow,” Bud whispers in awe, looking up at Luke opposite him with a soft giggle, letting his dad pet the puppy’s head with his knuckle.

“Do you know what noise a puppy makes?” Luke asks, pulling his hand away as Bud’s hand soothes over the fur.

“Woof woof!” He responds in little high-pitched squeaks.

Luke sits quietly, listening to him babble to the puppy about his recent birthday, about Luke’s job and you. It’s also one of those moments where you sit back and watch from afar, taking the backseat and giving Luke precious time to enjoy what you do during the season. You think they’re beautiful, their matching curls in the breeze, how whenever Bud looks up at Luke, his eyes radiate admiration, and Luke’s face softens. 

Luke ruffles Bud’s hair, muttering an ‘Atta boy,’ while watching his little arms cradle the puppy’s tiny body, leaning his head down and placing a kiss on its head. 

“Good puppy.” He mumbles, peppering the puppy’s head with more tender kisses. When he lands the final one and sits up again, the puppy’s eyes are closed and breathing slowly and peacefully. His little heart swells, his smile so wide the corners of his eyes crease at Luke. 

Another one of the pups paws at Bud’s knee and whines, its little tail wagging as Bud softly pets its head with his finger. He looks at Luke for reassurance, the thought of potentially waking up the sleeping puppy makes him pout, and his heart races. With a nod, Luke’s smile remains.

“I think that one wants a cuddle too, Bud.” He encourages gently. “Do you remember how to hold a puppy? Just like mummy showed you?” 

One of the puppies sniffs around Luke’s shin, its wet nose tickling his skin, and he uses the opportunity to demonstrate slowly. He wraps his hand under the wriggly pup, slowly lifting and holding it to his chest, cradling the puppy as it settles happily in the warmth. Bud watches intently, nodding along as Luke jogs his memory. Watching from where you’re sitting, a short distance away on one of the garden chairs, you know Bud does remember, he’s always cradling his stuffed toys like that, practising for the day you let him pick the neighbour’s cat up. But you also know that he loves to pretend not to remember, just so Luke spends more time with him, it’s one of his clever toddler tricks you’ve picked up. 

The puppy whines more, scamping over to Bud’s shins, and its little claws dig into his legs. Following Luke’s demonstration, he winds his arms around the puppy’s middle, lifting it to his chest and re-adjusting so one arm supports under its arms and his other cradles its rear. He kisses the puppy’s head, mirroring Luke as he strokes the puppy’s back. 

“That’s it, kiddo. You got it. You’re good with puppies, eh?” 

Any praise from his dad makes Bud’s stomach whirl with joy, and he brings the puppy closer to his cheek and snuggles. The little pup returns the affection, leaving licks across his cheek and nuzzles. The puppy in Luke’s arms wriggles out, hopping onto his lap and pads over to Bud, climbing into his lap and piling on top of its sibling. Bud giggles warmly, wide-eyed and immediately turns his head to find you across the garden, only to find you already taking a photo of him and Luke smothered in the pups. He looks back at Luke and wishes that the summer would never end.

[pez3639]

help i’m under a tornado watch right now and i packed my Vegas sweater, penjamin, medications, and vape into my closet. all i can think about are my queens aka the hughes brothers, Matt Rempe (also my op), and Jack Eichel. i hate it here.

[pez3639]

biting the walls and creaming my pants. HIS SLIVER OF WAIST SHOWING??? i feel like a victorian man seeing an ankle for the first time holy shit. i want to bit him and shake him like a rabid dog. (also i love the scruff so so much but i feel bad bc he probably can’t shave bc of his arm 😭 also someone tell me the source of this pic PLS)

i just know that if twitter really knew about him, he would be elected white boy of the month every month and rightfully so

[pez3639]

in case you haven’t seen this yet

[pez3639]

Okay, this was supposed to be a short blurb about freaky luke, but its turned into over 2k words of filth and im in the middle of it. anyways enjoy this tiny snippet of luke yearning and pining.

Luke leans down and pressed his lips to the side of your neck. “I got you baby,” he mumbles and nips into you, feeling your delicate skin against his tongue. You drive him haywire. The taste of you sending him into a tizzy. Luke would quit everything, leave it all behind, if it meant that his personal heaven took the form of you and your love. If it meant that he could forever be enveloped in your scent and warmth.

holy shit i love pathetic men.

[pez3639]

wtf i love him. nix you’re so amazing, please never go bald. AUGH THE YEARNING AND LOVE IN THE MIDDLE OF A NASTY FUCK. your honor, i’m down bad

Can you write a smut story of Quinn Hughes and y/n having car sex right before entering Dice & Ice?

Hi, lovely anon. I apologize for just getting to your ask. I fear I have been so distracted (Quinn withdrawals are hitting me so badly). But here it is! I hope you enjoy it even though it’s late.

Cramped Space

TW/CW: 18+ MDNI, Smut, Semi-Public Sex (car sex), Unprotected Sex (protections, yesyes), Just Quinn…being horny, of course, and fucking you so sloppy until you're a puddle but it's just a quickie...

Count: 3036 words | Masterlist

You’re nervous. Quinn can see that. You are fidgeting with the pendant of the necklace he gave you last night. Its matching earrings and bracelet glint on your ears and wrist. He glances at you.

Now, you’re biting your lower lip. 

You shift again, so he rests his hand over your thigh, sliding into the slit of your dress, his fingers curving over your inner thigh, giving you a firm squeeze. You sigh which makes him worry more. You scoot closer, spreading your legs an inch to invite his touch, so he squeezes again.

He spots a great parking spot in the venue for Dice & Ice Gala. It’s quite a close off area that’s sandwiched by a thick square column and a wall. He likes the slightly isolated areas because some people park way too closely. He doesn’t want you to have any difficulty going out your door, rather, him getting to you when he opens it for you.  

“What are you worried about?” he asks.

Another squeeze. He feels your shiver. Then he hears a slight sound which he assumes to be a small plea of discomfort. A tiny whimper that feels like a stabbing knife to his heart. How did he not see this before leaving the house? You clearly don’t want to go to the gala. He’s stupid.

He bites down his tongue to prevent him from speaking, waiting for you. He briefly lets go of your thigh, hearing another fucking sharp inhale, so he quickly slides into the spot, putting the car on park—shifting the gear and lifting the hand break. He places his hand back to your thigh as he turns to you.  

You’re looking around everything except him. Your lips are slightly trembling as you twist and tug the pendant. Quinn reaches to hold your hand. Only then, you look at him with worry and…What’s that? Is that…lust?

There’s no way. Why would you be turned on when you’re anxious? Maybe he’s just projecting his need for you. Fuck, he is, isn’t he?

Mentally, he slaps his head for being an idiot.

He needs to know what you’re worried about. He has to. He must. It feels awful being clueless when something eats at you. He needs to make it right. How will he make it right if he has no idea what it is?

“They’ll be lots of cameras, Q,” your voice quivers.

He hums, urging you for more.

“I don’t want to be photographed tonight,” you say.

His lips part as he gets more and more concerned. That doesn’t explain it. At all. His head goes into a full assessment mode.

This is most likely not about being seen with him. You’ve been photographed with him in several Canucks’ events. You’ve never minded that. Even when you two have gone out, there are fans who purposely get you in their shots. In those occasions, he always convinced said fans to delete the picture when you were uncomfortable, tugging on his sleeve as a silent confirmation of what you felt.  

Most of the time, you don’t really care about it, especially when you are all dressed up. Like you are now. Before you left the house, you were so proud of how you did your hair and makeup. He looks over your whole appearance. Definitely beautiful. You’re wearing a dress that looks so good on you, especially with that generous slit. It exposes your thigh so much when you’re sitting and he’s eating it up. He almost jumped you when you first showed it to him. Hell, even now, he wants to jump you. Blood rushes down his cock, unable to stop his hand to slide up your thighs, getting closer and closer to your—

‘Not the fucking time, Quinn,’he scolds himself.

He doesn’t understand the problem. Why do you not want to be photographed tonight? Do you not want to attend the gala? If you’re not comfortable going, then so be it. He can drive you back home. It doesn’t matter if he’s already running late. He’ll do it for you. You’re the most important thing in his life. He’ll do it.  

“Wanna head back?” he silently asks, leaning closer, unconsciously sliding his palm up and up your thighs until he almost grazes the lace you’re wearing.

“No, I…” You bite your lip that’s painted with a perfect shade of muted red that compliments your skin. The action makes Quinn’s mouth water. You sigh, looking away. “Do you really think I want to go home? Why are you dense today?”

What are you talking about—

Then you do it, tugging his hand closer so that the side of his finger gets into contact with your drenched panties.

Oh. Oh.

He’s not projecting?

“Just don’t want them to see how horny I am. Isn’t it obvious on my face?” You continue.

No. Not at all. You’re just so pretty. Quinn shakes his head, a bit too roughly to emphasize his disagreement and to clear his head from the lust that’s griping him in a chokehold. His breath hitches when he finally notices how your blush is deeper now than a few seconds ago, how your eyes keep peering around—more of assessing the windows of his car—it’s all tinted heavily except the windshield—how you bite your lips at the isolated parking spot, how your pupils are blown out.

Then he realizes that you didn’t whimper because you’re anxious. You’re horny. That’s fucking hot.

Admittedly, he feels stupid, for having you blatantly spell it out for him. He normally doesn’t need you to. He knows you like the back of his hand. He just really thought he’s fucking horny again. He always is.

Now, his cock stirs when you keep your gaze on him, looking up him through your lashes, your lips slightly pouting, your hand still playing with your pendant. He feels your legs spread more, inviting him to touch you, so he does. The softness of the wet lace sends shivers down his spine. His dick hurts.

“Hop on the back,” Quinn murmurs, barely holding himself back from ripping your dress to shreds.

Your lips curve into a smile, but like the tease that you are, you shift, kicking your legs over his lap. You say, “Take my heels off first.”

It takes all of him not to pant as he unclasps your left heel, his palms burning from your heated skin, absently discarding them on the dashboard. He can’t focus on your heels at all when your legs are bare from the dress. Your soft and silky skin feels so divine under his touch. When he takes the heel off, he can’t help but trace his thumb on your arch, pressing. A moan escapes you, your head tipping up as he massages the particular spot along the arch that you make him rub every night.

“Oh, that feels good,” you pant, gasping as he makes quick work with your other heel, dragging his touch on your skin. “Quinn,” you say in a breathless moan.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, my Love.”

“You’re the one—oh my gosh, Quinn!” you writhe as Quinn kisses your ankles then your heels, making sure to lick for ever kiss. When he softly brings up your feet, he moves to kiss the inside arch of your left, but you pull away. “Okay. Calm down, sir.”

Sir?

How can you call him sir and expect him to calm down?

Fuck calming down.

A rumble escapes him as he tries to kiss your arch, but you basically kick him by his shoulder and crawl over the center console, leaving him all flabbergasted. Protests tease the tip of his tongue as he turns around, his hand gripping the passenger seat, but they die down at the sight of you pulling your dress up to your hips. You slide your fingers down the wet seam of your panties.

“What are you waiting for, Q?” You taunt, baring your pussy by slipping your panties to the side. “I’m already here.”

Oh, you shouldn’t have done that. Everything blurs past Quinn’s head. One moment he is undoing his seatbelt and basically lunges into the back seat, the next he is kissing you so deeply that you are whining, rubbing his erection against your sopping wet pussy.

“Your pants are getting—

He cuts you off because he doesn’t give a shit. He wants you to make a mess on him. The thrill of him wearing your arousal just makes him harder. He wants you on him. That’s not too much to ask for, is it? He doesn’t care about how wet his pants are getting. He’s also spilling pre-cum inside his briefs. Besides, he’s wearing a dark suit anyway.

He kisses you like he wants to devour you because he truly does. He hooks one of your legs over his arm, lifting and spreading you wider, his knee planting on the seat for leverage, as he humps you harder. He bets he can make you come just from this. He already did it before. For countless times. He always ends up coming in his pants. He’s used to it by now, but he prefers coming inside of you so you can be full of him during the event.

With that, he quickly undoes his belt, tugging his pants down, hissing when your hand wrap around his cock the moment it’s free. When your thumb swipe over his slit, coaxing a bead of pre-cum out him, he is already panting like a starved dog. Then you guide him to your pussy.

“Fuck,” he curses as he sinks into your cunt, doesn’t stop until he’s fully inside you. Your slick and quivering pussy feels so good. You always feel so fucking good.

“Quinn, please,” you plead, writhing and clutching his shoulders. “Kiss me.”

Your wish is his command. He kisses you. Hard. He harshly nips your lips, tasting the sweetness of you combined with your lipgloss—or whatever it is, it’s fucking shiny.

When he can’t get enough, he licks the seam of your lips, shivering at the feel of your slight tremble, at every puff of air coming from your mouth. Then he slips his tongue past your awaiting lips. He groans at how your flavor fully intensifies, drowning any sense left in him.

He just wants to kiss, fuck, and hold you.

He needs it.

One taste of you isn’t enough.

He needs you to come around him until you can’t stop. He fucking needs it. Maybe he can just drive you both home. Fuck the event—

“This gala is important,” you whisper into his lips.

‘Did he say that outloud?’ he thought, groaning,“I know.” He ruts into you faster. “I just need you.”

“You always need me,” you say so smugly.

Quinn agrees. Forever and always. He needs you. You keep him grounded when he’s getting beat up from all the game losses or all the media shitshow he experienced. You make him live for so much more than just hockey in this place so far away from his family. You give him another home with you. You made him feel loved and cherished, wanted and yearned.

As much as he does with you.

But, alas, this Canucks event is truly important. It’s a fundraiser where he, as a captain of the team, needs to attend and he’s already late. As if on cue, his phone rings, breaking the calmness of the situation. He needs to pick up the pace to satiate you. Yet both of you choose to ignore it, because there’s no reason to rush.

Before Quinn would be beating himself for not being punctual, you changed that. You taught him that things in life must be savored.

Things being you and you and you.

Just you.

Every intimate moment with you is important to him. Whether it’s in the bedroom where you both talk until you two falls in a deep slumber in each other’s arms, or in a café where you drink at least two cups of coffee—while he barely drinks his tea—and feeds the both of you small bites of cake, or in the movie where you’re basically glued against his side as you watch the film with extremely wide eyes, or the park where you two bask under the sun while you eat the picnic you either had Quinn make or order, or just you two sitting in his car as you two people-watch while rambling about how your days are. Whether it’s casual moments or sexual. Like how you two always seem to take at least five minutes in a restroom cubicle for a quickie, or a sudden hotel visit because going home will take longer than a check-in, or maybe a quick make-out session.

Every moment with you is locked safely in his head.

No one can take it away from him.

Nothing can.

Every single one is a notch in his soul. He’ll carry it until the day he dies, until he gets reborn, until he finds you in that new life, so he can collect more notches that he will carry over to another life. Then again. Over and over again.

Quinn fucks you harder, kissing you to convey all his love for you. His hand slips between you two so he can flick and toy your clit with his thumb, as he drives his cock against that spongy spot that has your back arching, has you screaming into his lips. Your whines are music to his ears. He needs you to come.

A flash of movement catches his attention. Somebody just parked in the other side of the column, but it doesn’t deter Quinn from fucking you. Not one bit. Not when he’s inside of you. If only he can live inside your pussy for every second in his fucking life, he will. 

He feels amused when you part from him to breathe. You yelp when you notice the person get out of the car, barely looking over the car that’s probably moving with your tryst. Your hand comes up to his shoulder to give him a slight push, but he will never fucking stop. Sweat drips down your temple, your cheek, your jaw, and Quinn already there to lick it up. His tastebuds explode with the saltiness of it. He loves it. He needs more, so he dips his head to your neck, so he can lick up the sheen of sweat forming on your skin.

He’s just so fucking greedy over you.

He can’t help himself.

Your pussy clenches around him. Your thighs quiver around his hips, his other hand pushes one to spread you wider as he presses right over your clit with the other, teasing the small bundle of nerves, until you come. Every pulse, every clench. He feels everything as he fucks you through it.

He needs you to come at least three more times. He needs—

“I need your cum right now, Quinny,” you demand, grabbing him by his nape, making him stare straight into your beautiful eyes. “Now. I need you. Please. Please. Please.”

Oh, the chokehold you have on him.

You have him coming right there like someone’s perfectly trained to your every plea.

“Fuck, fuck,” he grunts, gritting his teeth for every thrust to take every spurt of his hot cum deep inside you, gripping your thighs so tightly that he is living hand imprints onto your flesh. The tiny moan escaping you makes him come harder as you clench around him. When he’s done, he’s spent a moment kissing your shoulder, collarbone, up your jaw and finally your lips. “So good, my Love. Maybe—”

His phone goes off, signaling that there’s another call.

While he rolls his eyes, you chuckle at him, truly pushing him off. Your voice is light as you say, “Later, Quinny.”

Quinn grumbles, getting annoyed that he needs to get off you. He needs to because he falls into the temptation of fucking you again. Still, he does it, getting absolutely hypnotized by the cum that spills out. No, actually. Maybe you two can get another round—

And his phone just fucking rings once more.

“Damn it,” he curses, quickly leaning over to center console to get the small bag you brought, getting his phone along the way. He ignores the missed calls that are piling up as he hands over the bag. He quickly types a text, “Will be there in 15-20 minutes.” Then he turns it in ‘Do not Disturb’.

He watches you start to clean up. You have this satisfied grin that makes him feel so fucking giddy. It doesn’t faze him when you playfully throw a fresh wet wipe for him to clean his dick. He absently does it to appease you, plus he doesn’t want you to be the only one fixing yourself when he’s looks as freshly fucked. However, he makes sure that he only does half-assed job before he tucks himself in. He’s not lying when he wants your cum on him.

Then he helps you with brushing your hair. Clumsily. He honestly doesn’t know what he’s doing, but he just does it, because you handed him the brush.

He’s totally mesmerized at how beautiful you look while you powder your face then while you put on your lip things—totally a balm and gloss. So utterly beautiful that he has to swallow the urge to ask for another round, because if he doesn’t, you two won’t be leaving the car for an hour or two or three.

With the way that you’re smiling, you know exactly what’s going on his head.

When your eyes dart towards his crotch, your grin turning into a smirk. “You might be the one who shouldn’t be photographed right now, Quinn.”

Then you laugh, a mix of a giggle and a chuckle.

His chest tightens as his heart pounds harder in his chest.

He wonders if he can survive the gala when he’s fucking hard and sensitive again.

He wonders how many times will you let him fuck you in the restroom when he can no longer bear it.

He wonders.

[pez3639]

hehehe i hit 69 followers and that’s funny so send filthy and raunchy reqs my way yall. working on two lukey ones rn as well (pure filth)

[pez3639]

i’m so soft thinking about quinn and how he would treat you on your first mother’s day with your baby. he’d do all the arts and crafts with his lil baby. the handprints with yalls kid 😭 AUGH he’s so sweetie he would get you a lil basket, not let you do a thing all day. he knows how to do a great mother’s day. crying.

[pez3639]

since the internet is just now catching onto quintin’s lil lazy eye, here are some pics where it’s a bit more prominent (he so cute and augh. wanna put him in my pocket or let him rail the shit outta me. either one)

i need him in such a loser way send help.

[pez3639]

filthy, slutty, nasty thots below the cut.

tw: none i think? just lukey pookie having a filthy ass mouth

luke hughes x fem!reader || NSFW 18+

no thoughts, just imagining Lukey going on and on when he fucks you. he takes "talking you through it" to a whole different level. like this man KNOWS he has a filthy mouth and how much you love it. he cant help it. he'd do anything to see you get all hot and bothered. anything just to see you squirm and whine. even when he's not taking the lead, he is narrating everything.

Luke looking down on you, standing between your open legs. He's hunched into himself to get closer to you, making sure you can hear every word he says. his left hand is wound through your hair, tugging at the base of your neck. his right hand sits between your thighs, teasing his fingers in and out of your entrance. He's been at it for so long that your lashline is wet with frustrated tears. his fingers come back up to circle your clit, but never quite hitting the bundle of nerves. his actions cause your chest to rise and fall at a quicker rate.

"Awh what baby? You need me to touch you? I already am though. God, my girls so fucking needy." his fingers begin to pet your clit at an agonizingly slow speed. the air between the two of you is filled with the sounds of your slick and hitching breaths. luke can see you arching into him and takes it as his perfect cue to finally slide his long and deft fingers into you.

"oh theres my girl. fuck so good for me baby. cant believe your mine."

luke is mumbling into you at this point. his heads fallen to your shoulder giving him the best position to see your cunt sucking his fingers in while hearing your increasing moans.

"fuck lukey please" youd cry out for him, squirming under his touch. he breaks from his reverie to stand straighter and look in your eyes. "Is it not enough still? youre practically crying with my fingers inside of you, what are you gonna do when i finally get to fuck you?"

Bonus Thots bc i got lazy and didnt finish:

shit luke would say-

"so perfect baby, fuck. so fucking perfect for me."

"god, you look so pretty like this. love getting to see you so tired after im done with you"

"just like that, pretty. doing so good f'me. yeah keep fucking yourself on my cock"

"yeah, youre gonna cum? c'mon baby let me feel it. want you to make a mess"

"fuck baby im coming. bet you want it all inside of you. yeah, gonna fill you up so fucking good"

AUGH im losing my mind and biting the walls. i just know this man is a yapper, even when he actively has his mouth on your cunt. you cant even understand what hes saying, but hes still going on and on about how good you are.

[pez3639]

Rockstar's Boyfriend

Luke Hughes x guitarist! reader

A/N: agh this took forever to put together yall. pls don't be a flop. this will be a fun series, but will probably have suuuuper slow updates (im so sorry 😭) the band poster was made by me with the three girls being from The Warning. all pictures are from pinterest as well. lmk if this is even readable or if there are any suggestions for future formats MWAH 😽

Lysistrata.Official: Crowd was straight up insane. Be on the lookout for our next surprise show. Love yall forever.

Liked by y/n_riffs, lhughes_06, penny.bangs, and others

penny.bangs: Who are those Divas??

↳Fan1: Literal Icon

↳iris_siri: My pretty pretty girl

↳y/n_riffs: why am i always third wheeling in my own band.

Fan2: that crowd diver was the coolest

Fan3: Need another show ASAP pls

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y/n_riffs: Pablo's the only one keeping me sane, the basement reeks of cheap wine, and we definitely DIDNT partake in illicit substances... also i got dragged into a hockey sidequest???

y/n_riffs tagged penny.bangs, iris_siri, and njdevils

Liked by penny.bangs, iris_siri, njdevils, lhughes_06, and others.

iris_siri: Give Pablo a kiss for me. AND YOU KNOW YOU LOVED THE BOY AQUARIUM!

↳y/n_riffs: boy aquarium lowkey went hard (need that man)

↳penny.bangs: that man needs YOU

lhughes_06: banger after banger

↳jackhughes: 🤨 📸

↳lhughes_06: am i not allowed to listen to good music

↳trevorzegras: bros down bad

♥️liked by y/n_riffs

njdevils: Rock on! National Anthem happening soon...?

♥️liked by y/n_riffs

↳fan1: crossover episode

↳fan2: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

penny.bangs: smoke circle went crazy.

↳fan3: i love this all female, gay, stoner, loser band

↳y/n_riffs: @/Lysistrata.official new bio?

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penny.bangs: playing drums, kissing girls, blah blah blah, im so cool.

penny.bangs tagged iris_siri and y/n_riffs

liked by iris_siri, y/n_riffs, fayewebster, and others

iris_siri: I LOVE YOU!

↳penny.bangs: i lobe you more

↳y/n_riffs: i hate happy couples.

↳iris_siri: And we love you

↳penny.bangs: need snoopy to hurry tf up and bag you so youre not miserable anymore.

↳y/n_riffs: i hate you even more now

fan1: cutest couple to exist

fan2: I just KNOW she was sweating trying to beat y/n in guitar hero

♥️liked by penny.bangs

fayewebster: dream openers

↳y/n_riffs: excuse me, WHAT?

↳iris_siri: 👀

↳penny.bangs: on my knees

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iris_siri: time of my life with my friends and my love <3

iris_siri tagged penny.bangs, y/n_riffs, and nyrangers

liked by y/n_riffs, nyrangers, and others

y/n_riffs: i keep seeing pics from the party that i do NOT remember being in...

↳iris_siri: the pictures dont lie

fan1: She is the moment

nyrangers: this is why the lead singer is always the fave #letsgorangers

↳y/n_riffs: didnt yall lose to the devs that game...

↳iris_siri: dont be a hater miss ma'am

fan2: i dont know if i want to be her or be with her

♥️liked by iris_siri

↳fan3: she has a gf already 😔

↳fan4: she liked it...tea

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lhughes_06: Celly worthy times right here

lhughes_06 tagged _quinnhughes, jackhughes, lysistrata.official, and y/n_riffs.

liked by _quinnhughes, jackhughes, y/n_riffs, and others

_quinnhughes: looking good bro

↳jackhughes: wonder who he got it from

↳trevorzegras: Definitely Mrs. Hughes 😁

↳lhughes_06: blocked.

fan1: wait a minute...the concert...the tags...

↳fan2: why is this not being talked about more.

↳fan3: Maybe he just likes the music?

↳fan1: he is an avid country listener...someones cooking here

↳fan4: AND he only tagged y/n

njdevils: we ♥️ #43

iris_siri: @/y/n_riffs girl...

↳penny.bangs: hold on shes hyperventilating rn

↳y/n_riffs: im actually dead rn 🧍‍♀️

♥️ liked by lhughes_06

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[pez3639]

hockey is simultaneously the most & least serious thing in the world. none of this is real & also I hope your team explodes & my team wins forever