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theambitiouswoman · 10 months

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Do you really love yourself?

Many times in the past, I believed I was operating out of self-love. However, it was only when I began focusing on personal growth and engaging in shadow work and inner healing that I came to understand that my previous perception was not accurate.

Sometimes, we believe we're being kind to ourselves because we do things that feel good or seem helpful at first. We might do these things because we want to feel better or think they're good for us.

To become aware that something might not be truly self loving, we need to pay attention to how things make us feel in the long run. If something we're doing ends up making us feel unhappy, stressed, or even harms us over time, that's a sign that it might not be coming from genuine self love. So, it's important to regularly check in with our feelings and reflect on whether our actions are bringing us real and lasting happiness and well-being.

These are some examples you may relate to, where we might think we're operating out of self-love, but it may not truly be the case:

Self-Care:

Binge watching TV shows for hours, thinking it's self-care, but it leads to neglecting other responsibilities.

Regularly indulging in unhealthy foods as a form of self-care, but it negatively impacts physical well-being.

Spending excessive amounts on shopping to feel better momentarily, mistaking it for self-care, when it strains finances.

Oversleeping every day, believing it's self-care, but it disrupts daily routines and productivity.

Isolating yourself from others under the guise of self-care, but it can worsen feelings of loneliness.

Skipping regular exercise, thinking you're prioritizing relaxation, but it affects overall health in the long run.

Using substances like alcohol to cope with stress, thinking it's self-care, when it may lead to dependency.

Personality:

Constantly seeking validation from others to feel worthy, assuming it's part of your personality, but it indicates low self-esteem.

Always being the peacemaker in conflicts, believing it's your personality, but it might be suppressing your true feelings.

Refusing to ask for help in any situation, thinking it's part of your personality, but it can hinder growth.

Being overly competitive and comparing yourself to others, thinking it's just your personality, but it can lead to dissatisfaction.

Being excessively introverted to the point of avoiding social interactions, thinking it's part of your personality, but it may contribute to isolation.

Always putting others' needs before your own, assuming it's your personality, but it could be detrimental to your well-being.

Constantly seeking new experiences and never committing to anything, believing it's your personality, but it might hinder progress.

Career:

Overworking and not taking breaks, assuming it's necessary for career success, but it leads to burnout.

Staying in a job you hate because it's what you're used to, thinking it's for the sake of career stability, but it prevents growth.

Avoiding asking for promotions or raises, assuming it's humility, but it might hold you back professionally.

Pursuing a career path solely for financial gain, thinking it's practical, but it can result in dissatisfaction.

Accepting workplace mistreatment in the name of job commitment, thinking it's dedication, but it's detrimental to mental health.

Focusing solely on climbing the corporate ladder, believing it's the key to success, but it may lead to neglecting other important aspects of life.

Not pursuing opportunities for skill development, thinking it's contentment, but it can hinder career advancement.

Romantic Relationships:

Ignoring your own needs to constantly please your partner, believing it's love, but it leads to codependency.

Staying in a toxic relationship because you're afraid of being alone, thinking it's love, but it harms your well-being.

Sacrificing your own dreams and goals for your partner's aspirations, mistaking it for love, when it hinders personal growth.

Avoiding conflicts at all costs, assuming it's love for peace, but it prevents healthy communication.

Idealizing your partner and overlooking their flaws, thinking it's love, but it prevents realistic understanding.

Rushing into a new relationship immediately after a breakup, thinking it's moving on, but it might be avoiding emotions.

Disregarding your own values to align with your partner's, believing it's love, when it compromises your authenticity.

Friendships:

Going along with friends' decisions even when you disagree, assuming it's loyalty, but it might lead to resentment.

Pretending to enjoy activities you dislike to fit in, thinking it's maintaining friendships, but it's not authentic.

Ignoring your own needs to help friends excessively, believing it's friendship, when it impacts your own well-being.

Staying friends with people who consistently bring you down, thinking it's loyalty, but it negatively affects your self-esteem.

Avoiding confrontation with friends, assuming it's maintaining harmony, but it might lead to unresolved issues.

Letting others take advantage of your kindness, thinking it's friendship, when it's actually being taken for granted.

Faking interest in others' conversations to avoid feeling left out, thinking it's friendship, but it prevents genuine connections.

Personal Growth:

Staying in your comfort zone and avoiding challenges, thinking it's self-preservation, when it hinders progress.

Setting unrealistic goals for personal development, believing it's ambition, but it can lead to disappointment.

Constantly seeking external validation for your progress, assuming it's self-improvement, when it should come from within.

Overloading your schedule with self-help activities, thinking it's maximizing growth, but it might cause overwhelm.

Avoiding reflection on your mistakes and shortcomings, thinking it's self-compassion, when it prevents learning.

Perpetually focusing on your flaws without celebrating achievements, thinking it's humility, but it can lead to low self-esteem.

Ignoring your emotional needs in favor of pushing through challenges, assuming it's resilience, when it might hinder emotional well-being.

Physical Health:

Skipping Meals to Lose Weight: You might think that skipping meals will help you lose weight quickly, but it can lead to nutritional deficiencies and harm your body's energy levels.

Overexercising: Working out excessively with no rest can seem like a way to get fit, but it can lead to injuries, exhaustion, and even weakened immunity.

Crash Diets: Trying extreme diets that drastically cut out food groups might seem like a fast way to lose weight, but they often lack important nutrients and can be harmful to your body.

Ignoring Sleep: Prioritizing work or entertainment over sleep might seem productive, but sleep is crucial for your body to recover and function well.

Relying on Supplements Alone: Thinking that supplements can replace a balanced diet might seem convenient, but they're meant to complement, not replace, healthy eating.

Ignoring Pain: Believing that toughing it out through pain or discomfort is a sign of strength, but it's important to listen to your body and seek medical attention when needed.

Not Staying Hydrated: Forgetting to drink enough water might not seem like a big deal, but proper hydration is vital for many bodily functions and overall well-being.

#self love journey #self development #self esteem #self worth #self help #self improvement #self love #personal improvement #personal growth #personal development

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inkskinned · 1 year

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oh you know it's all latestage capitalism but the thing is. how are you supposed to be a person inside of this. a person trying to be a better version of yourself.

oh, you started working young, which was kind of hard, but it's just the way stuff works sometimes. and it was 2008 and your family couldn't afford heat. but it's fine, you grow a spine and get used to the professional world and besides it was the suburbs we're talking about here, like, your life could have been actually hard, so what if your father lost his job and you can't afford to move or turn the lights back on. and once you start making money, it's good. you keep doing that. because now they're relying on you. so you have to do that.

oh you were in thousands of dollars of debt at 17 years old so that you could go to school, because you have to go to school if you want to get a "real" job. you even did it "right", you worked parttime and attended community college before you transferred to a public school. you were under so many merit scholarships.

which is fine. you pick yourself up and you say like, okay. i graduated college. i'm holding down a job. i'm doing the Adult Thing, which looks and acts like this, according to all the books i've read. you start with the shitty job and then you climb that corporate ladder.

but the shitty job doesn't cover rent and you stretch yourself too-thin so you get sick. good luck with that. the shitty job no longer pays for your meals. everyone asks why you don't just move, but there's nowhere to move to. and with what money are you going to be moving? and then the loans come back, because they were never going to forgive them, because you were 17 and trying to do the right thing, which was stupid. people are now saying you shouldn't have even gone to school.

which is fine. but because you have no other option, so you do the shitty job, and you apply every day for like 5 new ones, and despite the fact everyone says "there's no one who wants to work!" it's actually just that nobody is fucking hiring so you can either work for 13 dollars an hour in the shitty place you know (where at least you have a passingly friendly relationship with the manager) or you can start from scratch again with a different 13 dollars an hour without knowing how much abuse from the new job you'll be taking.

and if you quit you lose your insurance. if you quit you lose your housing. if you quit, you'll be another burnout kid. the lazy ones. these assholes, look at them!

and you come home to a family dinner and you hear from your father the same old thing. how he worked hard at his job and yes it sucked for a while but he was able to provide for the family and then the house and the dog and the rest of barbie's dream vacation. how the insurance did cover some of it. how you just really need to start speaking up more in manager conversations so they know you're a go-getter. you want to tell him - did you know we're actually doing more now hourly than any previous generation? - but you can't remember where you heard that statistic, and you're far too tired for the fucking argument. and then he starts in on his usual bit. where's the house? where's your kids? where's your ambition.

the same job the same money the same hours doesn't do it anymore. the same nose-to-the-grindstone now just shreds your face off. there's no such thing as upwards mobility, not really. and as far as you're aware, the money certainly is not trickling. you do the soulless stupid shit you signed up for because you fucking have to or else you literally risk your life (food, the apartment, the insurance), but it's not getting you anything. you download the stupid "save more" app and you budget and you do every right thing and then the price of eggs is 7 dollars and you say - oh great! another thing i have to fucking worry about now!

and you go to your stupid job and everyone in your father's generation just tells you to be better about being an adult. they have their homes and their savings account and their bailout and they say. well have you tried not drinking starbucks. well your generation just spends too much on clothing. well you might just be too addicted to travelling. and you - because you need the job - you bite your tongue and don't say i am being held prisoner and you're suggesting i stop pacing my cell if i don't like the scenery and you don't say what the fuck do you think i've been doing with my money and you don't say i haven't spent a cent on something nice in literally forever much less coffee you arrogant asshole. you open and close your bank app and check your loans and check your credit score and check fucking zillow and ziprecruiter and apartments.com just one time more. and still they give you that demeaning little grin and say - see, what you need is -

what you need is for your meds to stop being so fucking expensive. what you need is for the housing bubble to explode into dust. what you need is for billionaires to choke on their wealth. what you need is actual help. what you will get is more economic advice from people who are older-and-wiser.

and above you, almost in a glimmer, you can see the wedged smile of your debt getting toothier, wider.

#i hate when people try to tell me i didn't do it right #what should i have done better #i did it ALL the right way #(not that there is a right way)#it's just that others feel comfortable believing that THEY did it the right way and that's how they made money #whereas i must have just committed a sin somewhere in there! i MUST be doing it wrong!!!#and i'm not a victim!!! im simply experiencing consequences!#and im like. where . where. wherewherewherewhere #i graduated top of my class. i was almost the student speaker.#i have always excelled at work and i work hard #i have been working since i was 13 #WHERE !!!!! IS MY FUCKING !!!! MONEY!!!!!!#ps please do not make the assumption i am ablebodied or neurotypical.#i am neither of these things.#it DOES get worse if u are either of those things. so fuckin much #but @ the one anon who was like ''u could be X that would be worse u don't know how lucky u are''#.... don't i?#do i need to be luckier than someone else #or is it possible we are BOTH victims?#and that we need to work TOGETHER to resolve it #not just wave it off since it COULD be harder for someone else... it can be true we BOTH deserve better

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charliemwrites · 2 months

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Guilty By Association Commission from the very sweet and patient @soleilak

You (Callsign: Giggles, Gigs for short) are a medic on temporary assignment with the 141. The only problem? You're a former member of Graves' Shadow Company.

Content: Injury, angst, power imbalance, fingering and oral (reader receiving)

“Get your arse in gear, Gigs!”

Already exhausted and aching, the rough bark of your temporary captain urges your heavy feet faster. Gunfire sprays all around – you’re so addled you can’t tell if it’s enemy or friendly. All you know are your orders, a cry of survival in the uneven pounding of your heart. A bullet plows into the ground dangerously close to your foot.

Just a few meters ahead, Gaz curses and tumbles to the ground, hat lost. It’s not even a decision to alter your course. You can’t tell instantly what the damage is; if he’s been hit or just tripped. So you tuck and dive, grabbing an arm and leg as your back rolls across his chest. The momentum gets the two of you up and moving again, adrenaline taking the edge off his weight.

“Get us to the trees and I can run again!” he shouts in your ear.

You settle your blurry vision on the forest line ahead. Blessed cover – and your extraction point just a mile further. Goal set, you push through the pain of bruised ribs, a wrenched arm, and the ricochet of a bullet across your thigh. You wheeze your way well past the tree line, weaving between trunks until Kyle’s palm smacks at your side.

“We’re good, we’re good,” he says.

You grunt as you set him down, give him the quickest onceover in the history of medics. His calf is bleeding, just above the tops of his boots. It’s an ugly wound; it’ll need packing – but he can survive until exfil.

“Where the fuck are you two?!” Price growls through your headset.

Kyle pats your shoulder and takes off again, only the slightest limp indicating his injury. You grit your teeth and try to follow his example.

No one helps you into the chopper when you’re the last on the ladder. You’re not surprised, but it still stings. Salt on the day’s wounds.

Once the heli is up in the air, you scoot over to help Kyle with the wound on his calf. It’s almost hypnotic, the press-wind-press-wind of packing the deep gouge. Almost like unspooling your own tension through the care of a teammate. Every inch of bandage seems to amplify your own pains, though, as the mission high ebbs.

You hurt.

When Kyle’s done, you sit back a bit to assess him for any other wounds. The twitch of his mouth and slight bob of his head tells you he’s sorted, though – and it’s more thanks than you usually get.

“Where the hell were you?” Price demands.

“I got held up, sir,” you admit. Had been ambushed by two men you thought were on another floor. Bad luck, that. Or just poor preparation on your part. Your side twinges as you ease yourself into a seat. “Won’t happen again.”

Price grunts, mollified. “See that it doesn’t.”

You get maybe thirty seconds of peace before Soap’s voice cuts through the tentative peace.

“Gonnae take care o’ that or keep bleedin’ all over Nik’s seat?” he teases. Or at least it would be, if not for the sharp glint in his eyes.

What’s that saying about sins of the father? Well, Phillip Graves was definitely not your father, nor was General Shepherd – though he was old enough to be. In their absence, it seems you’re paying for their crimes regardless.

“Right,” you sigh, tearing off the bottom of your shirt, “sorry, Nik.”

“Just stay alive to clean it up, eh?” he replies jovially.

It’s not much of a joke, but you laugh anyway. You don’t live up to your callsign much nowadays, so you’ll take the levity when you can.

You tie off the makeshift bandage with a grunt and lean your head back, too uncomfortable to doze off.

At least the infirmary is a friendly sight. The staff are always grateful for an extra set of hands – even if they once belonged to a Shadow. And you have a lot of time to help since you’re not encouraged (never mind invited) to any non-professional activities with the 141. Working with the nurses during all that extra time has gained you some friends at least.

Dana is on call when you limp in. She fusses about you looking like the walking dead – then goes on to tell regale you with details from her current first-time watch of the show. The stream of words soothes you in the quiet little treatment room.

“Think we need an x-ray, dove?” she asks, prodding at your already discolored ribs.

“Wouldn’t help,” you sigh, “we can just wrap ‘em and call it.”

“Alright, dear, but you know what to do if it gets worse.”

“’Course,” you answer, summoning a grin, “can’t be keelin’ over before your nephew leaves that tart.”

“Oh, don’t even get me started – you know what she said at Sunday dinner?”

You giggle through her undoubtedly embellished story until she gets to your thigh – and the terrible bandaging.

“A piece of your shirt,” she scolds.

“My bag was too far, and my ribs hurt,” you complain.

“And what are all those big burly men for then, eh?” she huffs.

You shake your head. “I can’t ask them to help.”

Dana scowls past your hip. “Just because you’re the medic—”

“Pardon.”

You jolt in surprise at Captain Price in the doorway. Christ, he takes up the breadth of it too, shoulders brushing the jamb on either side. Even mission-dirty and stern-looking, he’s a hell of a welcome sight – though an unexpected one.

You try to sit up at some semblance of attention, but he waves you off. Can’t say you’re not grateful, unable to help wincing as you lie back.

You don’t notice him pause as Dana washes the wound, too busy sucking air through your nose.

“What’s… the damage?” he asks carefully.

You open your mouth to answer, but Dana beats you to it.

“Contused ribs, sprained shoulder, and a bullet wound to the thigh,” she rattles off. You’re always impressed by the undercurrent of disapproval and accusation she manages to weave into each word. “Not to mention dehydration and sleep deprivation. You’ve been staying up again, haven’t you?”

You clear your throat and turn your eyes skywards. “Oh, look at the ceiling. What a lovely ceiling.”

She clicks her tongue and begins packing the wound as you had for Gaz.

“Bullet wound?” Price asks sharply. Your eyes flick guiltily to him. “Why the hell am I hearing about this now?”

“It’s just a graze, sir,” you reply. “Sergeant Garrick’s was worse.”

His jaw does that thing you secretly (ashamedly) drool over, where it tightens and jumps. You know it’s not good but hey, silver linings right?

He doesn’t ream you out though. Just crosses his burly arms and lets out a long, heavy breath. You’re… not really sure what that means.

“Debrief at 0700 tomorrow, Gigs,” he says, voice unusually subdued.

“Yessir,” you reply dutifully.

As always, a strange mix of relief and disappointment twists in your chest as he walks away. Talking to him is a bit like being under a microscope – if that microscope was ready to brand you a low-down, no-good, dirty, rotten traitor at the first hint of suspicious activity.

You get it, you do. Graves and Shadow Company tried to kill Soap and Ghost, Los Vaqueros, and committed unspeakable atrocities. As much history as you had with him, he deserved what came to him, and Shepherd will deserve the same when he’s found.

Not that your hands were clean before Las Almas, but you drew the line when the orders came. Couldn’t bear to detain or shoot the friends you’d made in Los Vaqueros, or join the hunting party for Soap and Ghost. You’d been labelled a turncoat by your own teammates, thrown into a cell to be “court-martialed.”

Kate Laswell coming to your rescue was a second chance, a small-time miracle that you’ve been determined to earn ever since. In your more pathetic moments, usually in the small, dark, lonely hours of sleepless nights, you wonder how much it will take. How long you’ll be guilty by association.

At least this isn’t shaping up to be one of those nights. You’re half asleep by the time Dana sends you off, arm chilly from the IV fluids she bullied you into. For once, you might get a few decent hours.

Your second surprise of the night comes just outside your barracks door. Soap is leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, head back and eyes closed. Awake, though. His index finger is tapping a steady but rapid pace on his bicep.

“Soap?” you say, alerting him. “Did you… need me for something? You’re not injured, are you?”

He straightens up, drops his arms to his side. You pause a noticeable distance away, uncertainty leashing you to the safety of space. Not that you feel threatened. His posture is the loosest it’s been around you since… well, since before Las Almas went to hell.

“’Course no’, I woulda – tha’s not why I’m here.”

“Oh…” You process the strange wording. “Why are you here, then?”

He shifts his weight, a little line appearing between his brows as he seems to gather himself.

“I’m here to apologize.”

You blink. “Huh?”

“Look, what I said during exfil – it was bang outta order. You’ve been nothin’ but good to us ‘n I’m still holdin’ on to old shite.”

You shift, adjust the stupid flimsy sling for your sore shoulder. “It’s… not that old,” you reason, “and I don’t blame you, either. Not after everything.”

“Still, ya did the right thing back then – and ya’ve proven yourself half a dozen times over, besides. I’ve got no reason to treat you like an enemy.”

You swallow past the lump in your throat. It feels like you’ve swallowed a grenade; any moment the pin is going to come out and an explosion of gory emotion will splatter the walls.

“Thanks, Soap.”

He grunts something about “not thanking him” and ducks his head, shuffling past you.

“Seriously,” you say, voice strained from keeping it even. “I really appreciate it.”

He pauses, gives you a genuinely kind look. “Rest up, lass.”

It’s the best you’ve slept in a long while – after you cry into your pillow, that is.

At 0700 the next day, you’re in Price’s office, sore but in high spirits. Gaz sat next to you and Soap said good morning at breakfast. Even Ghost seemed less frosty than usual, grunting at you in acknowledgement when you’d sat down.

Of course, the good luck couldn’t last.

The debrief itself is fine. You speak when it’s your turn, listen when it isn’t. About as normal as it gets for a special ops squad.

It’s as the rest of the task force is filing out the door that the other shoe drops.

“Gigs, a word,” Price calls.

You freeze mid-step, shoot Gaz a panicky glance. He glances over your shoulder, snorts, and pats your arm in solidarity. Not as helpful as he thinks.

With a deep breath, you pivot back around. The door closes behind you with a damning click. You can’t even hide your hands behind your back to fidget at parade rest – your arm needs to stay in the sling for the rest of the day.

“We need to discuss yesterday,” Price says, palms flat on his desk.

You tilt your head. Wasn’t that what the debrief was for?

“Sir?” you ask. “If I – did I do something wrong?”

He deflates a bit, big shoulders dropping before he pushes himself up and rounds the desk.

“No, you’re not in trouble,” he explains, “but I have concerns.”

When he gestures for you to take one of the visitor seats, you do. You’re a bit surprised when he takes the other – though you can’t help an appreciative glance while his attention is elsewhere. He practically dwarfs the stupid little chair, and the way he spreads his thighs trying to get comfortable…

“Concerns, sir?” you parrot, trying to corral your scrambled braincells.

“What you said in the infirmary,” he begins, expression solemn, “is that really how you feel?”

“What I said…?” You try to recall anything of note from last night, but most of what came out of your mouth is a blur at best. “What did I say?”

He leans forward, lacing his scarred fingers together. You try not to stare, though the way he rubs at the knuckle of one thumb with the other is distracting. It’s an unusual gesture for the disciplined, determined man you’ve been honored to call captain for months now.

“That you can’t ask us to help you.”

A block of ice drops into your stomach.

“That’s not – I know you guys would help me if I needed it,” you hurry to say.

He gives you a long look. “Then why don’t you ever ask? You were shot and didn’t say a bloody thing.”

You shift, unable to meet his eyes. Can’t find the words to answer. It’s not that you didn’t think you could ask. It just didn’t feel right with the bad blood between you, Soap, and Ghost. Besides, you’re the medic, you’re supposed to be the one fixing everyone else – not the other way around. What use are you otherwise?

You try to explain this to Price, but you sense (from the grim set to his handsome features) that it’s not helping.

“I’ve been a shite captain to you, haven’t I?” he sighs.

You jump. “No, sir! You’re a great captain. I trust you with my life.”

He chuckles, but it’s devoid of humor. Sounds almost self-deprecating.

“I’ve not done a bloody thing to earn it.”

You shake your head. “Sir, you’ve kept me alive for months now. That’s plenty.”

Beyond that, he’s always been fair with you. Doesn’t give you shit assignments or the most dangerous roles in missions. Always makes sure you’re alive and accounted for. Calls you out for mistakes and faults, sure, but it’s for the sake of you and everyone else. He’s been just as ready to pat your shoulder for a clever maneuver or praise a good shot.

“You know damn well it’s not,” he scolds.

You huff, almost amused. “Sir, with all due respect, get off the cross we need the wood.”

His eyebrows jump up nearly to his hairline. Normally, you wouldn’t dream of being so cavalier with Price of all people. Soap’s truce last night gives you the confidence to continue.

“I know you didn’t trust me as a former Shadow at first,” you say, “but you looked out for me anyway. After the first few missions… it seemed like things evened out.”

He sighs and sits back, running a hand down his face.

“Laswell vouched for you – it’s the only reason I didn’t send you right back on that plane,” he admits. A small but genuine smile curls his mouth. “And then you put your life on the line for my boys time and time again.”

You mirror him, the tension in your shoulders easing away with each word.

“I knew things weren’t great with the others, but I thought it was best if I kept out of it. Let you lot sort it out so long as you all cooperated when it mattered,” he continues. “I didn’t realize how bad it got, and that’s on me. I’m sorry.”

You shake your head and lightly tap your boot against his. “It wasn’t the wrong call, sir. I think things are going to get better from here on out.”

He hums, eyes searching your gentle smile for any hint of insincerity. But you believe it, and it must show, because his eyes crinkle as he smiles back.

“Speaking of better,” he says, clearing his throat. “Mind if I take a look at those ribs? Dana had some choice words for me this morning.”

You giggle and tug your shirt from your waistband, hiking the hem up high to show the reddish-purple mottling all over your left side. Price makes a noise of sympathy, easing out of his chair to the carpeted floor. On his knees, he inches closer, leaning in to inspect the damage.

“How’d this happen?” he asks, voice lowering.

His fingertips skim over the edges of the bruises, featherlight. Your voice gets strangled in your throat as tingles race across your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“Um, hostile kicked me. A lot.”

His eyes flick up to yours, hard as ice. “Dead?”

“Yessir.”

His gaze softens, a proud, smug quirk to his lips. “Atta girl.”

You can’t fully suppress a shiver. It’s not just the gentle, considerate touches. It’s the purring praise from a man you’ve admired and harbored a sizeable crush on.

“Cold?” he asks.

This is your chance to wave it off. To pretend you are not so inappropriately infatuated with a man you thought only tolerated you until a minute ago. A little white lie, you could smooth your shirt back down, and be on your way.

But you don’t want to do that. Not really.

And from the way his pupils are slowly, steadily subsuming his irises, neither does he.

“No, sir,” you whisper.

His slow exhale caresses across your tender ribs.

“Then would you be comfortable if I checked on your ‘little graze’ as well?” It’s a tease, but also a genuine check of your boundaries. Another out, freely and openly given, that only solidifies your resolve to see where he’s going with this.

“Yessir,” you answer, shifting to get at your belt.

Price tsks, though, big hands spreading across each thigh and urging you down again.

“Now, now, don’t aggravate that shoulder,” he murmurs. “Let me help like a good captain.”

You swallow back an embarrassing noise as deft hands unbuckle your belt, thumb the button of your pants open, and drag the zipper down tooth by tooth. His thick, warm forearms rest on your thighs the entire time, keep them spread to accommodate his wide shoulders. He’s in no rush to continue his “checkup,” toying along the length of your waistband before easing it down.

“Lift up for me, darling, there we are,” he murmurs. You gasp softly as his palms brush your ass while sliding your pants down. Then outright squeak as he squeezes a cheek in each hand, a low noise of admiration rumbling in his throat.

“Gorgeous girl,” he chuckles. “Gorgeous arse.”

Your face feels hot as he tugs your pants down to your ankles, though the square of gauze and tape on the back of your thigh is long revealed. It takes conscious effort not to squirm under his hot gaze, praying a wet spot isn’t already visible on your panties.

“Let’s just get this one free…” He works the pantleg over your boot, leaving the other pooled around the laces. “Now then.”

You bite into your lip as he hauls your calf up into his shoulder, propping your leg up to get a clear view of your thigh.

“Not bled through,” he notes, tracing the neat edges of the medical tape. “You’ve been taking good care of it. Well done.”

You can’t help the little twitch that evokes, your whole body reacting to the deep timbre of his voice. He’s not oblivious to his effect on you, a glint in his eye as his bristly jaw brushes the inside of your knee.

“T-told you, it wasn’t too bad,” you manage weakly.

He hums and your pussy clenches helplessly around nothing. His eyes flick down and you know it’s all over.

“And what about this, hm?” he asks. You whimper as his thumb skims the lace edge of your panties. “Have you been taking care of this?”

Flustered and yet so, so turned on, you can only shake your head. He coos in mock disappointment, rubbing slow circles across your labia, closer and closer to where you’re aching and needy.

“It’s alright sergeant,” he soothes, “your captain will take care of you.”

Except he only rubs you through your panties A maddening pressure back and forth along the wet seam of your cunt, never delving deeper. You break down in hardly any time at all.

“Sir, please,” you whine, wriggling. He’s quick to brace you still again, leisurely movements never faltering.

“Please what, darling?” he teases.

“I-I need…” You whimper with embarrassment, squeezing your eyes shut. “I need you to take care of me, please, captain.”

He practically growls as he tears through the hip of your panties, tossing them aside in a sodden heap on the ground. With two fingers, he parts your labia, eyes hungrily drinking in the cream shimmering between them.

“All this and I’ve barely touched you,” he rasps, awed.

You nearly sob with desperation for something, anything. He shushes your fussy little noises with his thumb, dipping into the pool of slick at your entrance. Gets the pad soaked before drawing a line up to your swollen, sensitive clit. Your mouth falls open as he starts drawing tight, firm circles over that bundle of nerves.

He treats your body and your pleasure with all the confidence and competence you’ve come to expect of John Price. It takes shockingly little time for him to learn just how to press, how fast to rub, the patterns and circuits that get your legs shaking. And that’s before he twists his wrist and sinks a finger inside you.

“Practically sucking me in, love,” he murmurs, petting at your walls. You shudder and wordlessly beg for more, rocking your hips. “Need another already, greedy girl?”

He doesn’t even wait for your nod before stuffing you with another, curling and scissoring, exploring. You keen as he finds a sweet, sensitive spot inside you and begins toying with it, his thumb still swiping relentlessly at your clit.

He settles into a rhythm that has you moaning and keening, the heel of your boot digging into his shoulder blade. All the while he showers you in praise and encouragement, the dirtiest compliments that make you clench down tightly on his hand. Your body feels like it’s on fire, every nerve ending lit up with pleasure.

It’s builds and builds and builds, never quite cresting. You’re near tears when you moan his name, trying to find some leverage or angle to finally tip you over the edge.

“Do you need to cum, doll?”

“Yes, yes,” you cry, “please, sir, I wanna cum for you. Please, I’m s-so close.”

He hums, bracing your thigh with his free hand as he leans in. Your foggy brain doesn’t have enough time to process before he latches onto your clit and a third finger bullies into you. You wail. Your thigh twinges from the dull pressure of his shoulder, but the slight pain only adds a delicious edge to the pleasure.

His tongue swipes across your puffy clit once, twice, three times and you’re gone. You gush all over his hand, his beard, onto the chair. Your hips jerk as he works you over, fingers abusing your g-spot relentlessly despite how tightly you clamp down. Your body feels nuclear, nerves popping like firecrackers.

He only relents when the waves of ecstasy threaten to drown you in overstimulation. He eases his fingers from your twitchy hole, making room for him to lick you clean. It’s loud and obscene, yet there’s no room left for embarrassment anymore. You shiver and pant in the aftermath, your body unravelling into a puddle.

“Wh-what about you?” you ask as he begins straightening out your clothes. There’s an absolutely delectable-looking bulge in his fatigues that you’re dying to get your tongue on.

He chuckles and shakes his head. “If you want more –” (“I do.”) “- then you’ll have to wait until you’re healed up. Non-negotiable.”

You try to pout, but the effort is thwarted when he chucks you gently under the chin.

“C’mon, let’s have a lie down.”

He steadies you as you wobble to the couch off to the side, lying down first and letting you cuddle up between his legs. It’s a comfort more than you would have expected from a clandestine little triste, but you should know better than to doubt your captain. Head resting on his chest, you let yourself drift for a while, lulled by his fingers carding through your hair.

“Price…?” you ask after a while.

“Hm?”

“You didn’t do this just to… I dunno, make up for something, right?”

He huffs. “No, sweetheart. I’ve been arse over teakettle for a while. Staring like a complete muppet when you train.”

You hide a grin against his collarbone. “Good. I thought I’d have to start making things up for you to owe me.”

His chuckle rocks through you, and for the first time in a while, it feels a bit like home.

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #commissioned work #john price x reader #captain john price #tf 141 #medic reader #former shadow reader

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misshoneyimhome · 1 month

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Hi Love, i have a request for “being stopped when sneaking out after a one-night-stand” with Jack Hughes. Maybe you are friends with one of the other guys and you all are hanging and one thing leads to another and… next thing you know you wake up in bed together and have to try and sneak out without the boys finding you to save yourself from relentless teasing.

Hello there bb! 🤍

Well, I didn't really have a specific idea to begin with for this one, but as the thoughts started flowing, I attempted to put something together for this delightful little buttercup 😉

So, I hope it turned out somewhat as you'd imagined or at least enjoyable to read 😊

Tropes & Warnings; friends to lovers, slow-burn, best friend!Nico Hischier; 18+ smut, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), protected penetrative sex (p in v), as always language;

Word count; 4.2K

Taglist; @couldawouldashoulda50 @findapenny @justwanderingbutneverlost

・✶ ｡ﾟ

Mission Impossible I Jack Hughes 🖋️⚡️🌺

That laughter. Oh, that fucking laughter, Jack Hughes pondered, observing you mingling with the New Jersey Devils' crew. It was like sweet music to his ears. Your smile was akin to pure sunlight breaking through the clouds, and your scent was reminiscent of a meadow on a balmy summer evening.

It was the yearly gathering following the end of the season, and unfortunately, the 23/24 season had wrapped up much earlier than anticipated. The New Jersey Devils had been on the cusp of making it to the playoffs but fell short.

So tonight, Captain Nico Hischier, along with the management and coordinators, had organised a celebration to mark a season filled with hard work, strong team effort, and dedication, while also preparing for the upcoming off-season.

The evening began in a rather formal manner at the official Devils facilities. However, as the night progressed, Jack found himself at Nico's private residence, surrounded by teammates, partners, and a few friends.

And that meant you were there too.

You were one of Nico's closest friends from Switzerland, who had ventured to America to chase your own career dreams. A strong and self-assured young woman, you had captivated Jack's attention from the moment Nico introduced you to the team.

Being the same age as Nico, having grown up together, you shared a childhood bond. You exuded confidence with a touch of sophistication, yet your sense of humour was as playful and down-to-earth as the other guys on the team, making you fit right in. And Jack was immediately drawn to your poised yet calm disposition.

Even everyone on the team seemed to take a shine to you. Despite speculation that there might be something romantic going on between you and the captain, it soon became clear that such notions were just foundation of a good and healthy friendship. Nico was like a brother to you, your closest confidant who had been there through thick and thin, offering a shoulder to cry on during heartaches and sage advice in times of need. He was your protector and greatest supporter, just as you were his (perhaps except for his mother).

And Nico's presence was also the main reason Jack hadn't made any move on you yet. Despite his attraction, he felt unsure about how his teammate would react.

Yet you were the first girl to ever make him feel nervous, experiencing a mix of anxiety and excitement whenever you were around. The unfamiliar flutter of butterflies in his stomach emerged whenever you were nearby, leaving him lost for words the first time he had you alone.

But as time passed, Jack found himself growing more at ease in your company. The more time you spent together, the more he sensed a blossoming connection between you, especially as it appeared you shared a mutual interest.

Having just hit the milestone of mid-twenties, you were feeling completely in your element. Having successfully completed your education with commendable results, you were now diving headfirst into the professional world, determined to climb the career ladder. Even if it meant starting from scratch, your determination knew no bounds.

And Nico's friendship served as a constant source of inspiration as always. Having followed his hockey journey closely, witnessing his relentless dedication, it motivated you to strive harder for your own aspirations. So, with no ties holding you back in Switzerland, you found yourself venturing across the Atlantic, immersing yourself in the fast-paced and exhilarating world of the NHL.

Nico had graciously introduced you to his team, and you seamlessly integrated like a missing puzzle piece. Embraced warmly by everyone, you quickly formed close bonds with some of the team's other female members.

Yet, amidst it all, one individual seemed to ignite something deeper within you. The slightly younger American forward, Jack Hughes, had occupied your thoughts ever since you first laid eyes on him. His infectious grin and mischievous laughter captivated you like nothing else, while his composed and collected demeanour brought a sense of calm. He was simply enchanting and utterly captivating.

However, you made a conscious effort to maintain a certain level of calm and coolness, maintaining a small distance, as you did with all the players. You didn't want to be perceived as the type of friend who tagged along with Nico and flirted with every guy on the team. Besides, relationships weren't exactly a top priority for you at the moment.

Yet, there was something about the boy from Florida that intrigued you. His deep brown eyes held a mesmerising quality, and his voice had a calming effect whenever he spoke. His laughter resonated through the halls, sending delightful shivers down your spine.

So, with each passing day spent with the Devils, you found yourself simply cherishing the moments near Jack.

Today felt a bit different, though. While the disappointment of not making it to the playoffs lingered, the team maintained high spirits. They understood the challenges and the fierce competition in the NHL, recognising that this year simply wasn't theirs.

But thankfully, their strong bond and knack for lifting each other's spirits kept morale intact. Gatherings like today were crucial, providing a positive send-off into the off-season.

The atmosphere of the evening was relaxed and informal as you mingled with the crowd. Nico, buoyant as ever, left you to your own devices knowing you got along well with everyone on the team. And as time passed, you couldn't resist the pull towards the young Florida player with the tousled locks.

Jack's smile possessed a magnetic quality that drew you in, and soon you found yourselves reclining side by side on the outdoor sofa, cocooned under a blanket with the city lights twinkling in the background.

The conversation flowed effortlessly, punctuated by laughter and genuine banter, a delightful blend of teasing and compliments.

Chats with Jack always felt natural. There was no need to overthink; it all just fell into place effortlessly. Your senses of humour were perfectly aligned, and you shared many interests. Moreover, neither of you hesitated to speak your mind, even when opinions diverged. It was these simple yet stimulating debates that enriched your friendship each time.

"Oh, come on," Jack chuckled, the two of you leaning in as you exchanged tales of your summer plans. "There must be something wrong with him if he wants to see you again!"

"Thanks a lot, Jack!" you teased, feigning offence as you rolled your eyes. "There's nothing wrong with him, he's just... a typical guy."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked with a grin.

"Just that he's up for anything as long as I don't turn down the chance for a good shack," you explained with a mischievous smirk.

"Hey, not all men are like that all the time," Jack defended, still wearing a playful smile. "Some of us have good taste and won’t just stick it into anyone with a pulse."

"Oh, really?" you countered, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, really," Jack affirmed.

You couldn't deny the attraction simmering between you. As you sat there, close together amidst the laughter and cheers, with the night sky as your backdrop, you felt your heartbeat quicken.

Jack was undeniably attractive, and that smirk of his, oh, it had you spellbound. His deep chuckle and the way he defended his position had a tantalising effect on you, sending a tingling sensation through your core. But with so many people around, you couldn't bring yourself to make a move.

Instead, you simply smiled, breaking eye contact as you took a sip of your drink. "Well, I suppose you're not all bad then," you said softly, offering him a sweet smile.

Jack felt the sparks too. Your radiant presence shone brighter than the stars in the night sky, and your rosy lips stirred nothing but desire within him. Yet, he maintained his composure. With his teammates surrounding you, and he knew you didn't want any romantic entanglements with the players, including him.

"Hmm, no," he hummed huskily. "Not all men are bad..."

There was a moment of silence, the air heavy with anticipation as you both felt the closeness between you. Neither of you had realised just how close you were until now, lounging beside each other, your legs gently touching, and Jack's arm draped behind you.

The temptation to lean in for a kiss was almost overwhelming, especially considering how close you were already. Yet, you held back, acutely aware of Timo's watchful gaze and cheeky smirk a few feet behind Jack, engrossed in conversation with Nico. So, you turned your head away once more.

Letting out a sigh, you wrestled with yourself internally on how to navigate the situation. Of course, you desired to kiss Jack; only a fool would think otherwise. The attraction between you was undeniable, your heart racing with each moment spent in such close proximity. But you hesitated, unsure about crossing that line. He was your friend, and more significantly, he was Nico's teammate.

Similarly, Jack felt the hesitation weighing on him. Despite every fibre of his being yearning for more of your closeness, he held back. He longed to taste your lips, to feel the warmth of your mouth against his as his fingers tangled in your hair. He yearned to feel your body pressed against his, the heat and sweat mingling between you. The mere thought had his blood rushing, his desire evident even in his unconscious gestures, like licking his lips.

And your reaction didn't go unnoticed either. As he let his gaze linger on you, a seductive expression playing across his features, you couldn't help but feel the heat rising within you. You swallowed hard, feeling a surge of arousal beneath the fabric of your tight skirt.

It was impossible not to want it, the magnetic pull between you both growing stronger with each passing moment.

Yet, despite the tension crackling between you, neither of you made a move until you cautiously let your leg brush against his, maintaining a heated gaze. In response, Jack inched closer, pulling the blanket over both of you before his hand delicately found its way to your waist.

Your breaths mingled, heavy with anticipation as you shared the warm air between your faces. You had to consciously press your lips together to resist the urge to kiss him, but then something else caught your attention. As Jack drew you nearer, you felt the hardness of his member pressing against your core, eliciting a small gasp from you.

"Jack, you're..." you murmured softly, feeling the arousal ignite within you.

"Yeah… that's what you do to me," Jack almost growled, his mouth dangerously close to yours, his breath caressing your skin as he gently pulled your hip closer.

There was no denying it anymore. Both of you knew what you wanted in this moment. The only question was how to make it happen.

You had been staying at Nico's place before, so sneaking off to the guest room wouldn't raise suspicion. In fact, you had already planned to spend the night after the team event. You just hadn't discussed with him whether you would be alone in the bed or not – Nico assuming you’d be alone of course.

But the main challenge was reaching the bedroom amidst the remaining players and guests. Some had already departed, but enough remained in the living room that passing through would require finesse. So, as minutes ticked by, the tension grew unbearable. Your core pulsated with longing, craving his touch, while Jack's hardness strained against the tightness of his tight jeans, growing more insistent with each passing moment.

And finally, you spotted your opportunity to escape. As most of the players were engrossed in a few rounds of NHL PlayStation, their attention fully occupied, it was now or never.

So, signalling to Jack that the moment had arrived, he understood immediately. And trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, you decided to go first, pretending to head towards the bathroom. Then, after a brief delay, Jack would follow suit.

Though it likely seemed obvious what the two of you were up to, the distraction of the game on the big screen meant no one paid much attention as you slipped past them.

Finally, alone, behind closed doors, it took mere seconds before the two of you were lost in each other. Mouths collided, tongues intertwining, as eager hands hurriedly discarded clothes.

Your actions were driven by raw lust, each touch fuelled by an intense craving for one another. And before long, you found yourselves exactly where you had longed to be; naked, beneath the covers, with Jack's warm body pressed against yours. The kiss deepened as your fingers tangled in his brown locks, his hands roaming every inch of your body with fervour, as he made sure to massage both your breasts before attending to the heat between your legs.

To say his touch felt incredible would be an understatement. The ease with which his fingers glided pass your moist entrance, stimulating your walls and gathering your arousal, left you trembling with pleasure.

And Jack couldn't help but smile against your lips as he felt just how wet you were for him. Yet, he also felt his own arousal throbbing, his member dripping with precum as your soft moans filled the room. Sensing the tightness of your walls, he knew he probably wouldn't last long tonight.

And though he was already in need for a release merely by the foreplay, he didn’t want it to end so soon. So, instead, he withdrew his fingers with care, slowly moving his mouth away from yours to trail sloppy kisses down your jawline, then further down to your neck and torso, bypassing your nipple and navel until he reached your core.

With a deep breath and a dark, lustful look in his eyes, he gazed up at you, meeting your eyes before letting his tongue lick up your folds, savouring your sweetness.

"Oh, fuck..." you moaned, tilting your head back into the pillow, eyes shut tight as Jack's mouth worked wonders on your sensitive flesh. It felt incredible; not only was he a master with words, possessed an amazing smile and infectious laughter, but his mouth worked magic between your legs as well.

And unafraid to delve in with hunger, Jack explored every inch of your core with his tongue and lips, alternating between your sensitive clit and entrance, while his large arms and hands held your hips down and in place.

It was heavenly like. So, to no one's surprise, given the intense and prolonged foreplay, you reached climax much quicker than ever before. Whether it was Jack's expertise or your heightened desire, the orgasm he caused felt nothing short of sensational.

The only challenge was to stifle the moan that threatened to escape you. Pressing your lips together, you released a silent cry, arching your back and gripping the sheets tightly as waves of pleasure washed over you.

Jack allowed you a moment to recover, pulling away from your heat, his lips and chin glistening with your juices. And he couldn't help but smirk as he watched you gradually return to reality. It was a delightful sight, as you were trying to regain control of your breath, slowly opening your eyes to meet his. You looked somewhat defeated yet also expressed a hunger for more; your eyes were dark and intense as you bit your lip and smirked at him.

And with his shaft throbbing and eager for attention, Jack moved closer to you, his lips meeting yours in another messy, hungry kiss. He allowed you to taste yourself as his tongue intertwined with yours again, but he had to pull away momentarily to catch his breath before moving to what he desired most.

Meanwhile, taking in his incredible naked form, your gaze wandered to his long, sleek member, and you realised it was up to you to be responsible and act before the overwhelming lust consumed you both too much.

"Jack," you spoke softly. "Do you have protection?"

Jack paused for a moment, realising the importance of your question, before nodding. Luckily, Luke had jokingly tossed him a condom earlier that day, teasing him that he might need it. And as it turned out, he was right.

So, with a light smile, Jack rose to retrieve his trousers, carefully extracting the condom from its packaging before skilfully covering himself. Though, both of you knew condoms weren't the most romantic of accessories, given the circumstances of not being in a committed relationship, it was a responsible choice. Besides, Jack reminded himself, they also helped with lasting a bit longer. The, fully prepared, he leaned over your smaller frame, placing a tender kiss on your lips once more.

The position was simple as Jack positioned himself between your legs, his arms bracing on either side of you while your hands found their place on the back of his shoulders. Yet, the sensation was incredible as he began to glide into you, his cock filling you effortlessly, stretching your walls as he delved deeper.

"Fuck, Jack," you whispered, a soft cry escaping your lips, each thrust eliciting a gasp of pleasure.

"Shit, baby, you feel amazing around me," he moaned in response, his hips rocking in rhythm with yours, feeling the tightness of your grip around his shaft with every movement.

It was nothing short of intense as Jack picked up the pace, his length stimulating you with each thrust, increasing the speed and depth as desire surged within him. His arms provided strength as he pounded into you, fingers gripping the sheets as he edged closer to his climax.

Meanwhile, you were on the brink of ecstasy. Still riding the waves of your first orgasm, your mind was clouded with bliss, every thrust sending you deeper into overdrive. Jack didn't have to do much as he increased his speed and force, and soon you felt the second orgasm building, slowly but surely approaching.

But you didn't get the chance to reach it, not just yet. Instead, Jack swiftly withdrew from you, leaning back before turning you onto your stomach. And without hesitation, he entered you from behind once more, causing you to moan into the pillow as he filled you up again, his hips colliding with your buttocks in a steady rhythm.

"Mmm... baby, fuck..." Jack breathed out, unable to control his own movements, the sensation of your warmth embracing his shaft with each thrust bringing him closer to climax.

You were unable to respond, your mind foggy, your moans incomprehensible, and your vision blurry if you could even keep your eyes open. Jack's relentless pounding felt so good, and as he increased his pace, vigorously thrusting into you, you cried out into the pillow as you felt your second orgasm approaching.

"Shit, Jack... I'm gonna... fffff come..."

Your cries, muffled by the pillow, only spurred Jack on, intensifying his movements. It was rather intense at this point, the sounds of your bodies slamming together echoing through the room and likely audible in the hallway, yet neither of you cared. The pleasure was overwhelming, and Jack's sole focus was to push you both over the edge and reach the much-needed climax.

And it didn't take much longer before he managed to do so. With a few final thrusts, you let out a loud moan, into the pillow, as he continued to ravish you through your second climax, while the sensation of you clenching around his eager member pushed Jack over the edge too. Releasing a deep grunt, he emptied himself into the latex.

"Fuuuuuck..." he breathed deeply, thrusting softly as he let the last drops spill, catching his breath. "Shit... that was..."

"Perfection..." you muttered softly, lifting your head from the sheet, your pillowcase almost soaked with tears of pleasure, mixed with black mascara.

"Oh, perfection indeed," Jack chuckled lightly, placing a soft kiss on the back of your head as he remained inside you for a few more seconds before pulling out.

The room was hot, the air thick with the lingering smell of sex. Fortunately, the quick trip to the bathroom to dispose of the condom went smoothly, unnoticed by anyone. And soon, you found yourselves snuggled up in Jack's embrace, his body pressed against yours as you cuddled before drifting off to sleep.

Jack Hughes didn't usually spend the night with a one-night stand. But you were different. You weren't just a random girl he had met and picked up; you were a friend he had been longing for. And as the morning slowly crept in, he couldn't help but smile as he felt your body next to his, savouring the moment before drifting back to sleep.

Then about an hour later, you woke from your slumber as well, still feeling the lingering sensations of pleasure in your core as Jack lay beside you.

A small part of you feared he might have left during the night, as you knew the next mission would be sneaking him out.

Nico would likely expect you to be at his condo, but he probably wouldn't expect Jack to be there too.

So, when the need to visit the loo arose, you imagined yourself in a Mission Impossible movie, carefully sneaking out the door, into the hallway, and reaching the bathroom just a few feet away. Fortunately, the journey there went smoothly. However, as you were about to return to the bedroom, a voice halted you.

"Not so fast," Nico spoke behind you in Swiss German. You could almost feel the smug expression on his face. And as you turned around, you weren't wrong. "Didn't see you go to bed last night?" He chuckled as he took a small step forward.

You had to remain calm as you felt the heat slowly rising in your cheeks. Clad only in an oversized t-shirt, you couldn't help but feel your bare core still tingling solely from the memories of last night. "Oh well... yeah, didn't want to disturb your game with the boys," you tried to speak as confidently as possible.

But Nico wasn't convinced. Cocking an eyebrow and crossing his arms, he kept his gaze fixed on you. "Mmm hmmm... so you didn't sneak off to bed without telling me because you've got something to hide?"

"What- what?" You quickly asked, feigning innocence, blinking a few times, and pressing your lips together.

"I said you have nothing to hide, right?" Nico chuckled once more, taking another step towards you.

"Why would I try and hide something from you, Nicki?" You attempted to deflect with a question, your voice as calm as possible. Yet it still didn't quite convince him.

"I don't know," Nico smirked. "Since we both know it wouldn't work..."

And he had a point. Being your best friend for so many years, Nico could always see right through you. And in that very moment, it was no different.

"Well, um... I don't know what you're trying to get at..."

Nico raised a brow again. Why you were even trying to challenge him, you had no idea. He was onto you, and you both knew it.

"So, you're telling me, that if I open this door right now, I'll find your bed empty?"

You had to swallow hard. "Why wouldn't it be? I mean, I'm right here," you tried your best to maintain your composure.

Then with a suspicious look, Nico slowly took hold of the doorknob and gently opened the door. And to his surprise, as well as your own, the bed was indeed empty.

A tiny smirk formed on your lips as you saw the expression on your friend's face, yet you couldn't help but wonder where the hell Jack was. Had he left while you were in the bathroom?

And simply with a light chuckle, Nico admitted he'd been wrong and left your room with a smile.

Closing the door behind him, you let out a sigh of relief.

"Is he gone?" You suddenly heard Jack's voice.

"Wait... where are you?"

And then a large hockey player crawled out from under the bed, a smile adorning his face as he stood before you. "Sorry, I just heard your voices and thought I'd better hide - just in case," he chuckled.

"Well, I'm glad you did," you smiled back, stepping a little closer so Jack could let his hands find your hips, then softly meeting in a tender kiss.

"Hmm," he then hummed. "So... how are we going to do this next part?"

You let his question linger for a moment as your palms rested on his muscular chest. "Hmm, well I guess it's your turn to play Mission Impossible..."

It wasn't an easy escape. Yet, you'd swiftly become accustomed to the act, so as you scouted the hallway, noticing Nico wasn't there, Jack quickly made his run to the front door.

You couldn't help but giggle as he hurriedly left, just as Nico emerged from his bedroom again. But fortunately, he made it, and you could let out another deep sigh of relief.

Well, that was until Nico noticed the used condom in the second bathroom later the same day, and you eventually had to come to confession.

#my asks #18+#jack hughes smut #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #nhl smut

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