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sameschmidtdiffname · 4 months

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Princess

Mike Schmidt x Female! Reader

Summary: You detest having a roommate. You enjoy cheap rent. One of these things is going to have to change at some point, and with the week you're having? There's only so long before people reach a breaking point.

Tags: Smut. Filthy smut. (This is the first smut I've published too, so enjoy that.) Enemies to lovers, mocking, Mike is so OoC at some parts you could really shove anyone into this role, I'm going to be so extremely for real. (I'm honestly just feral for the actor. Sorry.) Hate fucking, dirty talk, cursing, cucking(??), listening in, masturbating, dumbification, slight dacrophillia(??), Abby's out of the equation for this scenario. Imagine like, early 20s Mike, he's not caretaker yet. Praising, pet names (good girl, princess, whore, pretty girl), no use of Y/N. Dom! Mike, teasing Reader, Brat (??) Reader, phone sex, walking in on masturbation, walking in on sex, possessive! Mike, hickies/bite marks, finger sucking, hair pulling, slut shaming, probably missing some things imma be honest. Just assume this is depraved.

Notes: I'd like to apologize to God and Josh Hutcherson. This is filth and I recognize my eternal soul is indeed damned. Anyways, bone apple teet.

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I didn't mind Mike when I met him, you know.

He's quiet. Shy. Keeps to himself. Those traits should make for a good roommate. If he'd kept his mess confined to his room, maybe the music that he blares just a little too loudly wouldn't be so headache inducing.

My fingers rap on the thin door, demanding his attention which is never given to me unless I make a production out of it. We both know that.

"Michael," I say.

Silence.

"Mike."

Nothing.

I open the door and there he is, peacefully asleep on his bed as the bass shakes the water in his glass. I sigh and click off the stereo, then turn to leave. It's incredible how quickly I hear him shift on the bed, scrambling to stand.

"The fuck?" He croaks, wiping sleep from his eyes.

"Your music was blaring. I already heard it from Mrs. Jones upstairs about you waking her kid up, I'm not dealing with that again," I say raising my hands up in the air defensively.

"I don't sleep well," he says.

"Neither does the baby," I say.

Mike rolls his eyes, turning the music back on and turning his back to me.

"Michael-"

"Don't call me that," he interrupts.

It's my turn to roll my eyes. "Schmidt, can you at least turn it down? I'm asking nicely," I say. He stands there for a moment and though I can't see his face, I know he's thinking.

Finally, with a sigh he says "Fine, princess."

"Don't call me that," I say. I hear a small huff of laughter from him and he turns to look at me.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I hit a nerve?" He asks with false sympathy.

"It's a simple request," I say. My eyes narrow at him in irritation.

"Which one?"

"Both."

We stand there for a moment, both of us sizing the other up, taking each other in.

"Fine."

With the agreement having been made, I turn to leave, shutting the door behind me.

Year long lease. Joy.

-Tuesday-

"Hurry up!" Yells Mike, pounding on the bathroom door.

"I'm fucken hurrying!" I yell back, my hands working as fast as they can to wash off my body. Late alarm, fever dreams causing me to wake in a pool of stinking sweat, and one bathroom make for a horrendous cocktail of repeated 'fuck you's through the cheap door.

"I'm gonna be late!" Mike yells.

"So am I, I'm sorry!"

There's a moment of long silence and I think maybe Mike has finally found a spot of pity, realizing that maybe we aren't enemies but simply humans who unfortunately have to coexist in this world together. Then the water turns freezing, and I realize I hate him.

"Michael!" I practically scream. Traces of soap still reside on my body, but the cold and my alarm both force me out. Angered and not thinking clearly, I wrap the towel around my dripping waist and swing the door open.

"Are you fucking happy?" I sneer, face inches from his.

His expression is initially satisfied, but as his eyes flicker downwards he and I both realize my mistake. His eyes widen, lingering for a moment on my bare chest as he processed what he was seeing, then returning to meet my glare.

"What?" I ask sharply. "You've never seen a pair before?"

He stammers. "I-I have."

"Don't act like it," I say. "Take a fucken photo, be the only pair you'll probably ever see in your life, dicksmack."

As though he remembers himself, his eyes narrow. "Move, princess."

I slam past him, walking quickly towards my room and slamming the door behind me.

"Don't wake the baby!" Mike mocks down the hall.

Oh, motherfucker. It is on.

-Wednesday-

It's hard to break a lease. It's harder when nothing as cheap exists in the area. This is a problem for both Mike and I. I know it's true for him because apparently even his bills are too troublesome to keep on the floor of his room. But despite his mess, it's him that comes barreling down the hall, bursting into my room with no warning.

"Jesus, Michael!" I start, spinning around in my chair. "Have you ever heard of knocking?"

"Have you ever heard of washing a dish?" He sneers. "It's not hard. My baby sister could do it."

"Oh, is she available? I'd love to see how she'd handle your laundry situation," I retort.

"Why is it impossible for you to actually wash something? You'll put water in it, let it soak. I respect that, but then you never come back to it. Do you enjoy flies? I think you enjoy flies," he says with hate dripping off of his words. I roll my eyes, but he's not entirely wrong either.

"Fine," I mutter. "I'll do the dishes. Sorry."

"See? Look at how hard that was, princess." He begins to turn away.

"Will you quit fucking calling me that?" I snap.

"I'm following our bargin. You're the one who slips first, princess," he says while laughing, raising his hands in defense.

A long moment passes, neither of us willing to back down.

"Do the dishes yourself," I say finally, turning back to the computer.

"Not my mess," he says.

"Too bad. I'm too delicate," I say with a faux breathiness to my voice. The door slams behind him, which has me instantly rising from my chair to race after him.

"Don't slam my door!" I say.

"You did it the other day!" He says, spinning around to face me and almost slipping on one of his shirts littering the hall. I can't help but smile at that.

"Problems?" I ask.

"Yeah, they exist in whatever demon spawned you," he hisses. His eyes catch on something though, narrowing as he leans slightly closer. "The fuck is on your neck?" He asks.

"The fuck you mean 'the fuck is on my neck?'" I ask.

"I mean you've got something on your neck," he says.

"No I don't," I say. "Move." I shove past him to enter the bathroom beside us, flicking on the light and feeling my irritation rise as he reaches to do the same thing simultaneously.

"See?" He says, pointing at a small, dark mark on my neck.

Fuck.

"I don't fucken know what that is," I lie, covering it with my hand.

"You liar, that's a hickey!" He says still pointing at it.

"Is not!"

"Is too. What, are you fucking some high-schooler?" He scoffs.

"Adults leave hickies too, Mike. It can be enjoyable. You'd know this if someone ever wanted to fuck you," I spit back.

"Who on earth would enjoy having sex with you?" He asks. "The only loads you leave attract flies I don't want to have to deal with come summer."

My jaw drops in shock.

"And the only loads you leave smell like menthols and depression!" I retort.

Staring. Always staring with this guy. Jaws clentched, eyes narrowed.

"Just don't bring this guy around here," he finally says. His voice is quieter but the edge is still there.

I blink. "What?"

"You heard me," he says. "I don't need to hear your shrill voice like that."

Am I imagining things or is he blushing? No, I'm definitely imagining things. It's the florescents.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" I taunt. The fuck kind of response was that?

His eyes widen slightly. "No," he says a little too quickly.

"What, you get one look at my tits and now you're thinking about that degenerate shit?" I press, stepping closer.

"I don't- this-" He's blundering. I've got him now, I've found his weak spot.

Without a word, I slip out of the bathroom and return to my room, shutting the door and beginning a plan that will guarantee I won't have to worry about being the roommate that breaks lease and looks for a new apartment.

-Thursday-

"Are you close, baby?" The sweet voice on the phone asks me. The battery on my toy is flashing, showing one of us needs to finish soon. And while I like Nick, there was just something lacking in him that kept me on this irritating edge, hiding my release from me.

"I'm close," I confirm, switching hands to try and hit a new angle. The video on the computer is doing nothing to help with this at all, and I'm so bored I'm tempted to just fake it and seal the deal.

The plan was simple. Establish dominance over my roommate via fucking a guy I'd met at some party the week before. Nick was an easy target, too busy thinking with his dick to question why I was suddenly insistent on him coming over. And to guarantee his presence at the apartment, I would have to put in work. Not that I wasn't fully uninterested. He was alright, I was single. Beneficial for everyone involved.

The vibrator finally found that sweet spot, the one that made me cry out softly into the receiver as my wrist pumped with newfound vigor.

"Close," I told Nick. "Isn't as good as you though."

Nick chuckles softly. "You're sweet," he says. Then he's prattling sweet praises, whimpering into the phone breathily along with me as I finally begin to tip over the edge, moaning loudly and clearly. It's my luck that Mike should be at work at this moment.

Should be.

Wasn't.

The door opens as Mike walks in, his mind obviously focused on something else but immediately taken aback at the sight of me sprawled upon the bed, legs open, toy in hand, Nick on phone, porn on computer. Shit.

"Jesus!" Mike shouts. "It's the middle of the day!"

"Get the fuck out!" I shout back, my voice less vicious than I'd like given that I was mid-ruined orgasm. Mike covers his eyes, trying to stumble out of the door without looking, muttering a dozen apologies a second before finally reaching and slamming the door shut behind him.

Nick and I are both silent for a long while, neither of us sure what to say.

"So... I'll see you tomorrow?" I ask finally.

"...yeah." He says. And with the click of my phone, the plan is solidified.

I don't see Mike that evening until about three hours later when he finally emerges from his room with pink cheeks and clothed in a large hoodie he seems to wish would swallow him whole.

"Hey," I say to him. I chew on my cheap food slowly, flipping through my novel at the cluttered table.

"Hi," he says quietly, not really making eye contact with me. He crosses to the cabinets, taking out a glass and filling it with water. We listen to the tap for a moment before I finally say "I didn't mean for you to see that."

His eyebrows scrunch in confusion. "I got that."

More silence. The tap shuts off and he leans against the sink, taking a long sip.

"So... hickey guy?" He finally asks. And I can't help the snort that escapes me.

"Nick," I say.

"And he's...?" Mike is testing the waters, that much is obvious.

"Canadian," I say.

Mike nods. Sip. Silence.

"Nick, from Canada," he says slowly.

"Yep," I say, popping the 'p.'

Mike looks at his drink in thought.

"So you're into Canadians," he finally says. I think for a moment.

"No," I say. I mark my book and close it. "Just bored."

"Just bored?" Mike asks.

"Just bored," I confirm.

Sip. Silence. Thinking.

"You... do that regularly?" He asks.

"I mean... I like sex," I say.

His cheeks redden at that, and he takes another sip as though to hide that.

"He's coming over tomorrow," I say casually. Mike's eyes dart to mine, dark and wide.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Another sip. He finishes his glass.

"Should I find plans for tomorrow?" He asks finally.

"No," I say a bit too quickly. Both of our cheeks redden at that. "I mean, we won't... shouldn't...." I don't know what I mean.

Mike stares at me thoughtfully for a moment then looks back to the glass in his hand.

"You're pretty loud, princess," he finally says quietly.

There's a new tension in the air. One that isn't brought on by hate or dirty dishes. One that I don't mind strangely.

"You could join us, if you'd like," I offer. Mike's grip on the glass tightens so suddenly I'm almost surprised it doesn't burst.

"I- I'm pretty sure I'd get in the way," he stammers. Then his eyes darken, a strange look in them. "Besides, I don't like being a whore."

This comment stings. Deeply.

"I'm not a whore," I say defensively.

"Oh?" Mike asks.

"He's the only guy I've fucked in months, so yeah," I say.

"Oh, is that why I hear you moaning late at night all the fucking time?" Mike says. "Seriously, you're fucking loud."

"And you're a fucking virgin," I snap.

"Says who?" He asks.

"Forget it," I say. I gather my things and rise from my chair. "Don't fucking talk to me."

"Fine," he scoffs. "I'll wash this dish too, princess," he calls after me.

I spin around. "You would be so much more fuckable if you were easy to swallow," I snapped, stomping my foot like a child.

Both of us stare at each other in a bit of shock at what I just said.

"Most girls swallow just fine, thank you," he retorts.

"Who's the whore now?" I say. I don't wait for him to respond, slamming the door shut behind me.

Fine. Let him hate me. That's the whole point of this anyways. Then it'll be me and someone else in this terrible fucking apartment. Maybe it'll be Nick. Anyone would be better, I tell myself.

...

...how easy is Mike to swallow?

-Friday-

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't struggling to remember the correct name right now.

Nick is underneath me, pumping his cock in and out like no tomorrow as I grind against him. My jaw is slack, my hands buried in the blankets fabric underneath of us. I'm staring at the thin door though, the thin door that I know leaks every little noise whether there's a towel under the enormous crack or not. And the shadows of footsteps that I see make it all the easier for Nick to continue his shallow rhythm, edging me closer and closer.

"Mi-Nick," I moan loudly. It sounds endearing, thankfully. But my heart races at how close I've come to fucking things up in a few different ways. "Fuck, you're thick," I moan. It's not particularly true, but his size is fine, so what's an ego boost to help him along the way?

Nick is sweet underneath of me, moaning that I'm his, that we're each others. That's great and all, but God. There is this missing edge. And it isn't until I hear pounding on the bedroom door that I finally feel real excitement begin to flow through me.

"We need to talk," Mike's voice says firmly.

Nick looks guilty, his eyes wide and asking for silent guidance. I don't respond, simply continuing to slide up and down Nick's cock and moaning while doing so.

"Hey, princess," Mike says firmer, pounding on the door again. "Think you can stop Oh-ing Canada and come talk to me like a fucking adult?"

I don't stop, grinding harder against Nick's base. My hands find my clit, rubbing it as I respond.

"I told you you were welcome to join us," I moan. Nick looks at me like I've gone utterly insane, and maybe I have. Maybe I'm completely delusional about all of this, but I couldn't care less as I feel my dripping cunt tighten to the point even Nick doesn't care what happens so long as he comes inside of me.

"Mi-Nick," I moan. "Mi-ne, mi-ne." Come on, Schmidt. Catch the fucking hint.

All night I had been plauged with dreams about Michael fucking Schmidt. I'd noticed when we met he was attractive to me. I liked his hands, his stubble. God, his shoulders made me think things that will probably send me straight to Hell. But hate usually kept these thoughts at bay. Last night however, the dreams wouldn't stop coming. Over and over, a new fantasy of him emerged in my head. Him underneath of me as a writing mess, him begging for more, my tits in his mouth as he finished inside me. It was depraved. I wanted it.

The door bursts open just as Nick is finishing inside of me. It's the look in Mike's eyes that causes me to finish, all while keeping eye contact with him as well.

Nick is quick to flip me on my back, covering my body haphazardly with a blanket prattling excuse after excuse. Apparently we're sorry. Apparently we had gotten too wrapped up in the moment because apparently, you know how it is, right man?

But it doesn't matter. Mike isn't looking at Nick, who's pulling on his shirt above me. Mike's looking at me, watching my fingers that trail gently along my areolas, flicking lightly at my hardened nipples and clearly longing for more.

"Mike wouldn't know the first thing about pleasing a woman," I say with little thought.

"Oh?" Both of them ask me.

"I think you should leave, Nick. Mike and I are going to have a little talk, and I don't want you to see how ugly this may get," I say without breaking eye contact with Mike.

The sudden shift in the air is not subtle, so maybe that's why Nick doesn't really hesitate to listen to me.

"I'll call you later," he says as he stumbles past Mike.

"Don't bother," Mike calls after him. Mike slams the bedroom door shut, locking it before turning to me and raising an eyebrow.

"Is there something you'd like to say to me?" Mike asks, narrowing his eyes and crossing his arms as his stands tall.

My hand dips to between my thighs where Nick and I's cum pools out, coating me in the thick stuff.

"Sorry," I say in a spoiled tone, smiling.

Mike's eyes scan my entire body. From the hickies coating my neck, to my breasts and even my thighs, I can see a new wave of anger washes over him. At least, it looks like anger. There's something else mixed with it too, something I desperately want to play with.

"You're not sorry for shit," he says. He's correct.

"I told you last night, I like fucking people," I say as my fingers circle my clit.

Mike's jaw tightens. "You like fucking people," he repeats.

I can see him grind his teeth. He's silent for another moment. "And do you like... him?"

I giggle. "You tell me," I say with a soft and low voice.

His eyebrows twitch. "You're still... going?" He asks with an unsure edge to his voice.

"Yes, Michael. This is what a woman looks like when she's turned on," I say in a mocking tone, batting my lashes as my fingers dip into my entrance. "Would you like to try?"

He steps closer, bending down ever so slightly to stand over me.

"Don't call me that," he says in a low growl.

"Make me," I taunt.

He blinks.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

A startled yelp escapes me as Mike grabs my hips, dragging me roughly to the edge of the bed. He spreads my legs, stepping between them and slips his rough thumb inside of me with no hesitation.

"Fuck. You do like him," he groans, his other hand fiddling with his belt. I can see how hard he is underneath his jeans, his fingers clumsy but working quickly at the items covering him.

"He's oka-ay," I say quickly, my voice trailing off into a soft moan. His thumb explores the inside of my cunt, probing the wet muscle and massaging inside of me spots a man had never taken time to look for before. "Your finger's thick," I moan.

Mike chuckles, freeing himself and pumping into his hand slowly as he presses his thumb deeper inside of me.

"You told Nick he was thick too," he says. "That just your line with guys?"

It is, but this time I actually mean it. So I shake my head. "No," I say quietly.

"I don't believe you," Mike says. He slips his thumb out of me, making me clench around nothing. I open my mouth to protest only for Mike to quickly shove his thumb into my mouth, touching the back of my throat while he sinks his cock into me.

"Go on, pretty girl," he moans. "Take it like the proud whore you are."

I gag around his thumb, both from the sudden intrusion and from the taste. But I'd be lying if I said I didn't like this, if I said that his actions didn't make me even more wet and that I didn't suck his thumb greedily, wrapping my tongue around it and sucking it clean until I can only taste his rough flesh. I swear it makes his dick twitch.

His cock slides in and out of me with ease, taking his time to feel how I wrap around him.

"Fuck," he drawls. "It's been awhile."

I moan around his thumb, running my tongue along the underside and trying to rock my hips against him to tell him to speed up. Instead, he presses a hand down on my lower stomach, pinning me down as he sinks in fully. At first glance his size is average, but inside of me it's overstimulating how he fills me just a little too much.

His thumb presses further into my throat, making me gag as he tilts his head back in pleasure.

"You are just demanding. Do you know that?" He asks. I try to respond, but he simply presses his thumb against a spot that makes me gag once more.

"Nothing's good enough for you. Not even Nick. You didn't even cum until I came in here," he laughed cruelly, looking down at where we connect. His other thumb trails down to rub my clit slowly, making me writhe underneath him and clench around his still cock.

"Never shutting up. Till now. I like it when you're quiet, princess. Makes you easier to swallow." He presses deeper inside of me, making me whine in overstimulation.

"You're mine now," he says, slowly pulling out. "You can call Nick all you want. Call him, fuck him. But we both know he's not gonna make you cum like I will." Just his tip remains in me, barely staying in before he slams back into me so hard I scream.

"So what's the point?" Mike asks, slowly slipping out once more. "Do you like pitting men against each other like that?" He slams back into me. My eyes water, but I don't protest.

This time when he pulls back, he stays there. I wait for him, trying to he patient. But then he removes his thumb and wraps his hand around his length instead.

"What?" I ask, my voice raw.

"Say it," Mike says as he jerks himself off slowly.

"Say what?" I ask.

"I'm not gonna fuck you like you want unless you say you're mine," he says casually. His tip is bright red and leaking precum, his length coated in Nick and I's milky cum.

"Fuck you," I say. Mike just laughs.

"You're the one laying here crying over some dick," he taunts. "I just want to make sure we're on the same page here, princess."

I try to hold strong, I really do. It'd be more fun if I did. But fuck. The way he stands over me, his shoulders broad. I could never deny I liked the sight of his hands either, and seeing them tug as his pulsing cock while he stared down at me with that stupid fucking smile?

It's not fair.

"I'm yours," I say quietly.

"Hmm?" Mike asks, pumping his dick quicker now. I can see how hard his veins are, and the sounds of him fucking his own hand make me want him more.

"Yours," I repeat slightly louder.

"Use proper English," he says. His face has this stupid blissful look on it, his mouth slightly open as he pants, fucking himself and watching me as he does.

"I am yours," I hiss through gritted teeth. It doesn't even take a full second before he's buried in me once more, his hands pinning my knees to my shoulders and fucking me with enough speed I'm genuinely scared he'll hurt me. And I love it.

"I'm going to make you mine," he grins, his voice suddenly turning feral.

"I'm going to make you mine so much that you won't even be able to remember what Nick's name is, let alone what he looks like. Or what he feels like."

"Uh huh," I whine. My voice is so unusually high and ragged, my mouth slack and eyes rolling back in pleasure. I rock against his hips, trying to find my second edge. I'm babbling, whether I'm asking for mercy or more is anyone's guess.

He laughs at me, and it's a harsh and cruel laugh - not at all like the usual sarcasm and mockery he displays. Instead, his laugh comes from a place that is raw and angry and vicious, the kind of laugh a wolf makes when he's about to go for the kill.

"What's the matter?" he asks, his voice dripping with sarcasm and mocking. "Not quite the big, bad man that he's made you think he was, is he? How disappointing," he continues, his hips thrusting into me repeatedly.

I cry loudly with each new thrust. His movements are cruel, borderline abusive. Christ, I love it.

"Bigger," I whine. "Bigger."

He teeth nip at my throat, sinking in hard enough I'll be wearing sweaters and scarves for weeks. Makeup won't touch the color.

"Bigger?" He asks in a mocking voice. "What's bigger?"

"You're bigger," I moan. My voice is broken, and there's no way the neighbors don't hear the degeneracy occurring around them. Sorry, Mrs. Jones.

"What are you going for?" he snaps, his eyes narrowing and his voice growing more and more vicious. "Big bad Mike?" he giggles, his grip tightening on my ankles as he continues plunging into me.

A loud scream escapes me as Mike finds my g spot. He doesn't relent, focusing on the spot and abusing it while I sob and try to wiggle away, completely overstimulated from pleasure and unable to handle it.

His hands pin me against him, trapping me where I am and forcing me to take him however he wants me to.

"You want more?" he asks, taking one hand away from my ankles, grabbing and pulling my hair harshly, forcing me to stare into his eyes. His pupils are so blown out I can't even see his pretty hazel irises. They're dark and predatory, his breath hot and heavy with rage.

"Is that what you want?" he asks, pulling back and plunging into my aching cunt again.

"Yes!" It's a violent scream that escapes me, feeling myself begin to tip over the edge. His eyes sparkle, his lips in a smile that shows he knows he's won.

"And what would Nick say if he could see you like this? All mine, all mine..." he taunts.

"Huh?" I'm completely stupid, my body coming undone so suddenly around his dick with cries, screams, whimpers and everything inbetween. Nick was foreplay and I've no mental energy to remember any detail that isn't Mike's.

"Don't even know his name?" Mike laughs. "You can't even remember his name, can you?" he grins, his eyes narrow again as he tugs my hair and shoves himself in further.

"Uh uh," I pant in a high voice. My body shakes terribly, his pounding length already edging me once more as he continues abusing my spot. How on earth am I supposed to walk after this?

"Then let me help you remember his name," he says. "Say his name."

"Mike," I moan pathetically. I'm right back on that edge, crying and feeling as though I'll burst from overstimulation.

"Louder," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm and mocking. "Say it louder. Say his name loud enough for him to hear you."

"Mike!" I scream it religiously as I come undone a second time, gripping him to the point I can feel how close he is too. I hear him laugh above me, his other hand now wrapping around my throat and choking me slightly.

"That's my name," he says with mocking gentleness. "Say his name or I won't finish."

"I don't remember," I sob. Jesus Christ, do I have problems? "Just want you!"

His face glows, his lips split into a wide grin of satisfaction.

"So you want me, do you, princess?"

I nod pathetically. He's throbbing, slamming into me hard enough it may draw a third climax in a row.

His laugh is cruel above me, his lips landing on top of mine in a wet, possessive kiss. His tongue fills my mouth, forcing me to take him as the sounds of him fucking me like a depraved animal makes me whine in desperation.

He pulls away, a long string of spit between us connecting our lips.

"Then I'll give you what you want, princess," he says. "But there's a price."

"Uh huh," I agree. My eyes roll back as my body twitches, barely able to focus as he thrusts into me.

"Look at me," he says patiently, tugging my hair once more. When I manage to remember how, he let's out a long 'aw,' smiling down at me with false sweetness as I stare dumbly into his eyes. I suppose I'm staring into his eyes. God, I'm stupid.

His thumb grazes my jaw, tutting as he examines my face closely.

"Your eyes are pretty...*" he says, his voice sweet and tender, almost like I've made him soft and vulnerable, but his cock pounding into me causes the beginning of a headache that won't let me forget how much we hate each other. "Your eyes are pretty, your mouth is pretty..."

I lick my lips and nod lightly.

"You are just such a pretty girl, aren't you?" He asks. I nod, my body twitching uselessly as my third climax washes over me.

"Good girl," he praises. "All fucked out over me. That's good."

Suddenly and without warning, he pulls out quickly and shoves my face down close to his cock, coming all over my face. It's thick and everywhere. In my hair, my mouth. I can't even open my eyes.

"Stay like that," Mike commands as he lays me on my back. His softening cock reenters me and pumps lazily, his purpose to make sure he's fully emptied.

"Any new thoughts?" He asks me in a strange tone, light and amused. I simply moan, relishing the moment. He chuckles and spreads my legs so he can better see what is happening between us. It isn't until I hear the chime of his camera confirming a recording that I realize what he's done.

"Mike?" I ask, barely able to think straight.

A low laugh escapes him, cruel but warm.

"I want to show your new boyfriend the real you," he says. "Make sure we're all on the same page here, right?

...Fuck me, I have problems.

¤▪︎{♧}▪︎¤

Thanks for reading, pookies. See y'all in hell.

Masterlist

#yes nick is nick brady from paradise lost #i couldnt help myself #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt fnaf #mike schmidt #mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt x reader smut #mike schmidt x you #josh hutcherson #josh hutcherson fanfic

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starsandhughes · 4 months

Text

I Know Places

inspired by i know places by taylor swift <3

pairing: quinn hughes x tkachuk! reader

word count: 2.4k

warnings: drinking, use of y/n, mentions of throwing up (not actually done), fade to black smut

MASTERLIST

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Maybe it wasn't the best idea you've ever had, but it wasn't like you planned this! You didn't plan to fall for one of your brother's best friends, someone that was a groomsman at his wedding, it just happened.

You and Quinn kept sharing looks during the start of the wedding reception. It was a dangerous game and you both knew it. Quinn and Brady were best friends, and both of your families were friends— you were terrified that too much was at risk with this relationship.

There wasn't a fear that your families wouldn't be happy about the relationship, because there was no doubt in your mind that everyone would be thrilled, it was the fear that your relationship would no longer be just yours.

It would be theirs, too. It would belong to your parents, Quinn's parents, Brady, Matthew, Taryn, Jack, Luke, and eventually all of the fans.

Your relationship would be under the scrutiny of the public eye. You'd be subjected to hate from Quinn's "fans," and probably your brothers's as well. You knew that some girls online tended to take every single blink as a chance to over analyze a relationship from a player they obsess over. Many fans were supportive of the various WAGS, but there were a few that would be sobbing over the fact that Quinn is taken. These fans are the hunters, and you're a fox trying not to be caged.

Your relationship was fairly new, only a couple weeks old, and it started back when the Devils were still in the playoffs. There was a gap between one of Matthew's games and one of Jack and Luke's, so you hopped on a plane to go see one of them before Quinn got his wisdom teeth out. Quinn drove you back to your hotel at the end of the night and well... things spiraled from there.

Love was fragile. It could burn out. And in your experience, especially new love.

The more alcohol that you put into your system, the less careful you and Quinn were being. There were cameras everywhere, but it slipped your mind for just a moment. You two had been friends for a long time and an innocent touch surely wouldn't be enough for everyone's heads to turn, so you let it happen.

Quinn stood behind you with his hands on your waistline as you moved your hips to the music. You knew they were his hands before you even turned around, you were familiar with his touch at this point. It wasn't until you heard Luke whisper to Jack, "look!" that you had any concern.

"Let go, Quinn," you whispered to him. "Luke is looking suspicious."

"So let him," Quinn whispered back.

"Quinn," you groaned.

Quinn obliged to your concerns and took his hands off of you. He extended his hand towards you instead and lifted it up when you took it, a subtle motion signaling you to spin under his arm. You laughed as he did this, and to play it off like you were just two friends dancing, he called out to Luke to catch you as he spun you outward.

You fell into Luke laughing before you turned back to face Luke and threw your arms around his neck to dance to the beat with him.

"What was that about?" Luke asked you. You internally panicked, but outwardly remained calm.

"What was what about?" you laughed it off.

"Quinn's hands on you," Luke said, as if it were obvious. In his defense... it was.

"We were just dancing, Luke. I've known him forever! I've known you forever and now we're dancing! Is there something wrong with that?" you turned it all on him.

"No, no, nothing wrong with that," he said calmly. He was too smart for his own good and you knew it, but he was also respectful enough to not call you on your bluff.

Luckily, keeping an eye on you was the last thing on Brady and Matthew's minds with everything that's going on around them. As the night went on, Jack was getting drunker and Luke was on Jack duty, so Quinn's brothers were finally less of a problem.

All you wanted was to be with Quinn. If you two were further along in your relationship and unworried about your families, you two would be attached at the hip and having a good time. But everyone in your family was around. Grandparents and cousins and aunts and uncles. Everyone. Hell, even Josh kept eyeing you and Quinn. But the wine running through your veins was making you crave Quinn's touch even more.

All the happy couples surrounding you certainly weren't helping. Every kiss you caught a glimpse of made you think of Quinn's lips. His soft lips. You felt your face begin to heat up as your mind wandered too deep into memories of your last time with Quinn.

"I know that look," Quinn said as he walked up to stand beside you.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you feigned innocence. Your thoughts were nowhere near innocent.

Quinn stepped in front of you, dangerously close, "Yeah, you do. You've got that look on your face that you have while we're..." He leaned in close to whisper the rest of his sentence in your ear, "...alone."

You closed your eyes and gulped. He has you in the palm of his hand, and right now was not the best time to be feeling such things.

Quinn's hands found your hips and pulled you closer to be pressed up against him, "I don't think anyone's watching."

"Quinn..."

"Just one kiss," he proposed. "To get it out of our system."

You looked around and discovered that your boyfriend was right. Everyone was too wrapped up with the party to pay any mind to you two. You gave into him and wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him softly.

Quinn brought a hand up to your cheek and cupped your face when you pulled away, "I love how red you get every time I kiss you."

Then it happened.

A flash. A camera flash to be exact.

You began to panic. Once Brady and Emma get all the wedding photos, your secret would be out. There was no chance that you could play off whatever the camera caught as something just between friends!

"Shit!" you said, a little too loudly.

Your big brother was more keen to you than you thought, because you saw Matthew spin around in search of you. Those stupid protective tendencies never shut off for him. He was the oldest. He felt responsible for his siblings. His protectiveness is normally your saving grace, but it was your number one enemy right now.

"I know a place where we won't be found," Quinn hurried out. You grabbed his hand, "Let's go."

You two dashed out of the reception hall, not too fast as to make a scene, but you weren't moving slowly.

You two were practically sprinting through the hotel towards the elevators once you escaped the reception hall.

"Quinn, your hotel room would be too obvious!"

"That's why we're going to Matthew's," he said as if it was obvious.

"What?!"

"He gave me his key to watch because he tends to lose things," Quinn explained. "Your brother's hotel room is the last place people would think to look. I don't even think Matthew knows which room he's in."

Quinn had a point. You were pretty sure if anyone actually saw anything it would be Matty, and his own hotel room was not going to be his first idea of places to look. You immediately pulled Quinn closer to you the second he got the door open. You kissed him hungrily as you walked backwards, only parting when he gently laid you down on the couch.

Quinn climbed on top of you and started to kiss you again. His tongue slipped into your mouth as his hands gripped your hips, wrinkling your bridesmaids dress between his fingers. You moaned into his mouth when he bit your lip, which only made him bite harder before he tugged and pulled away. He then trailed his lips across your jaw and down your neck. You gasped and gripped your hands onto the ends of his hair, feeling the oxytocin flood through your body now that you finally get to feel his touch.

His left hand found its way under your dress. He traveled up your thigh slowly, making you shudder. His fingers lightly grazed across your silk panties, teasing you as he snapped the top edge against your skin.

"Please," you whimpered. It's been so long since he was last able to touch you— really touch you. Long distance is hard, but a secret long distance relationship? It's hell. "I need you."

"We don't plan on going back down to the party, do we?" Quinn asked you low. You hummed a no, pursing your lips as you tried to keep it together. "Good," he smirked.

Your heartbeat quickened when he reached up a hand to caress your cheek, something he does when he wants you to look at him. You opened your eyes to stare into his greens, completely mesmerized by the hold this man has on you. Just with one touch he can get you to do what he wants and he knows it.

"I want you to beg," he instructed. He tilted his head and raised his eyebrows expectantly, and did so subtly.

"Please," you whined.

Quinn tutted in disapproval. He wanted more than that from you. He leaned down close to your ear as he slid his hand up your body to your tit and softly squeezed, "I'm going to need more than that, baby."

"Please, fuck me," you said with more urgency. He was driving you insane.

"Please, fuck me, what?" he smirked.

"Please, fuck me, Daddy."

Quinn gave you a sly smile, "Well... since you asked so nicely.”

– – –

Your naked frame laid atop of Quinn’s, your head against his chest, as the two of you fought to catch your breath. If you were home, at either of your homes, the notion of having to get up and get dressed wouldn’t even have even crossed your minds. And if it did, you would’ve laughed it off. You don’t get that luxury when you decide to sneak off during your brother’s wedding to your other brother’s hotel room.

“Q–”

“Don’t,” Quinn cut you off. He brought a hand up and ran it up and down through your hair, “Not yet. We have time.”

“How do you know?” you whispered.

“Because the world can’t be that cruel to me,” he mumbled, holding you tighter.

Turns out, the world could be that cruel to him. To both of you. Because the loud and rowdy voices of Matthew, Jack, and Luke were coming closer and closer.

You practically dived off of Quinn and started to put your dress back on. Quinn was frantically looking for his jacket before giving up entirely and going without it.

“Act drunk!” Quinn whisper shouted at you.

“What?!”

“Act drunk! Go sit by the toilet and act like you’ve been throwing up!”

You finally caught on to what Quinn was saying. There was no way you two could escape out of Matthew’s hotel room, but you could act like you intended to be in here. Quinn grabbed a hand towel and got it wet. He rubbed it across your face so it seemed like he had cleaned your face off post you throwing up. You then threw open the toilet lid and flushed it, hoping that the boys were close enough to have heard it. Quinn sat down on the bathroom floor with his back against the wall and his legs straight out, and you curled up into a ball and laid your head on his thigh. You weren’t drunk by any means, but you were pretty inebriated, so forcing yourself to cry like you normally do post throwing up wasn’t that hard.

You guess they went to the front desk to get another key to Matthew’s room, because instead of a knock, you heard the door click open. Matthew immediately heard your sniffles and rushed into the bathroom, “What’s wrong?!”

“Y/N got super drunk, and your room was closer than mine, sorry,” Quinn said softly, rubbing your back up and down.

“I didn’t see her drinking a lot,” Luke said suspiciously.

“She can be a lightweight if she doesn’t eat enough,” Matthew said, completely oblivious to what Luke was insinuating. He was crouched down on the ground trying to tend to you. He looked at Quinn, “I got her.”

Quinn helped move you into a position where Matthew could pick you up and carry you to the bed.

“I don’t feel good, Matty,” you fake cried.

“I know, Y/N/N,” Matthew shushed you. “I’m here, it’s okay.”

Matthew told Quinn to unmake the bed so that he could put you in it. Matthew gently laid you down and Quinn covered you up. Matthew left to get you some water and Advil and told Quinn to watch you.

“Next time, I’m picking the place,” you mouthed. Quinn silently chuckled and sent you a wink before leaning down to kiss your forehead.

“You got this?” Jack asked his brother.

“I had it before you got here, so…” Quinn trailed off.

“Alright, alright,” Jack said. “No need for sass!”

Jack left, but before Luke followed him, he stopped to look at you and Quinn. He looked out the door and when Jack was far enough away, he spoke.

“I won’t tell anyone,” Luke started.

“Yes! Oh my god, yes! Happy?” you shouted out, not lifting your head to look at him.

Luke smiled and looked back at Quinn, who sheepishly ran his fingers through his hair and nodded.

“I knew it!”

Quinn came back to you once Luke had left and knelt on the ground to be eye level with you.

“You put on quite the show just to cave and tell Luke,” he said.

“Yeah, well, your little brother is relentless,” you pouted.

“That he is,” Quinn laughed lightly.

“My brothers will make a big deal of it. I want the beginning of this relationship to be us figuring us out, not them telling us what our relationship is,” you told Quinn. Quinn grabbed your hands in his and kissed them, “Just as long as you know better places we can hide.”

“Trust me, Q, I know a lot of better places than my brother’s hotel room.”

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes fanfic #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes x tkachuk! reader #quinn hughes fluff #matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagine #brady tkachuk #jack hughes #luke hughes #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #luke hughes imagine

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fannyyann · 4 months

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if you've found yourself asking why matthew doesn't know what a pokeball is today, let me remind you that he's been OBSESSED with hockey his entire life

and isn't so sure brady had the same obsession at such an early age 😭😩😂

#matthew tkachuk #the brady quote is one of the funniest things matthew has ever said #imagine waking up all on your own to watch hockey highlights before school!!!!#IN ELEMENTARY SCHOOL

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goodnightoilcountry · 1 month

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jo's nhl fic rec list !

hi - welcome to my attempt at being a fic writer again. i have a wip list in the works but first things first: my fic rec list of all the works i've found and adored.

if you don't know yet, you will know soon that i am such a sucker for angst. i hope you find something new to love from the list below !

how to navigate

i update this list weekly (try to) and place all the new fic recs at the top under NEW.

when searching for a specific player, they will always be listed under their current team.

* updated friday 17 may 2024 *

weekly note: oh my god - so i've had to completely update the layout of the fic recs list bc of the word count blah blah blah. it took forever to rejig but hopefully this is how it will look going forward. ANYWAYS SEBASTIAN AHO FIC SCHEDULED FOR TOMORROW SO KEEP YOUR EYES PEELED !

like my selection of fic recs? have a player who's not been featured? let me know and i'll go on a deep dive for you!

NEW

four times mat almost told you how he feels and the one time he did (mat barzal) by @fallinallincurls word count: 6.5k

i couldn't stand you (michael bunting) by @ohmyeyesmyeyes summary: (slow burn enemies to frenemies to friends etc / f!reader x mb) three years: arguments, truces, break-ups, moving houses...michael bunting wasn't nearly as irritating as you'd initially expected.

ghost of you (cale makar) by @bqstqnbruin word count: 6.7k

something to dream about (jt compher) by @comphy-and-cozy summary: secret relationships are messy. they’re even messier when your boyfriend is a professional athlete playing for the organization you work for. surely nothing will happen when you have to spend the evening together at the charity gala that you’ve been planning for months… right? word count: 5.5k

the one (andrei svechnikov) by @holy-pucks summary: the reader is andrei's favorite girl, but she isn't his only. for awhile, the arrangement was comfortable. he'd show up whenever he was in town, they'd fuck, and then he'd leave. rinse and repeat. so how will andrei react when their routine comes to a screeching halt? word count: 8k

vibrant, saccharine, his (mat barzal) by @yelenasdog summary: pretending is getting harder, for both of them. and after a hard roadie, mat’s not sure if he wants to pretend anymore. word count: 8.7k

the nanny pt1 + pt2 + pt3 + pt4 + pt5 (erik johnson) by @holy-pucks summary: erik’s divorce left him broken, chronically pessimistic, and raising two children alone. in desperate need of help, he hires a nanny. five years later, his children are smitten and his life would be impossible without her. but is she still just the nanny? word count: 33.7k total

baby photos (quinn hughes) by @43-hugs summary: they met you before they had ever held you in their arms. this is every time jim and ellen hughes met you, before they actually did. word count: 3k

FIC REC MASTERLIST

total number of fics: 84

anaheim ducks fic rec list players: trevor zegras

carolina canes fic rec list players: andrei svechnikov - brady skjei - pyotr kotchekov - sebastian aho - seth jarvis

colorado avs fic rec list players: cale makar - nathan mackinnon

detroit red wings fic rec list players: jt compher

florida panthers fic rec list players: matthew tkachuk

new jersey devils fic rec list players: jack hughes - luke hughes - nico hischier

new york islanders fic rec list players: mat barzal

philadelphia flyers fic rec list players: erik johnson

pittsburgh penguins fic rec list players: michael bunting

toronto maple leafs fic rec list players: auston matthews

vancouver canucks fic rec list players: brock boeser - quinn hughes

ALL OUR WONDERFUL WRITERS

thank you to all the incredible fic writers on this godforsaken app ! i am always so in awe of how creative people are and am constantly inspired by your minds ! i can't wait to find more of you on here 🤍

@43-hugs @adoristsposts @austonwithan-o @babydollmarauders @bagopucks @bedsyandco @bitchinbarzal @bqstqnbruin @chewingcyanide @comphersjost @comphy-and-cozy @doc-pickles @eyesthatroll @fallinallincurls @happer08 @hischierdevils @hischierhoney @hockeywhy @hockey-fics @hockey-hoe-24-7 @holy-pucks @hookingminor @huggybug @hugshughes @idontgiveaflyinggrayson69 @islesnucks @itsjusthockey @ladylooch @letsgetrowdy43 @marnerparty @matthewtkachuk @mattyanonwrites @matwith1t @mendeshoney @misshoneyimhome @mrsensitive @ohmyeyesmyeyes @pucksnsticksnhockeyboys @starry-hughes @senditcolton @silverstonesainz-archive @stormsplurge @sunkissed-zegras @sunnyskiesscareme @sydnikov @thatintrovertedwriter @theemporium @thewintersoldierdisaster @unluckyhoneybee @withwritersblock @yelenasdog @youunravelme

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comphy-and-cozy · 2 months

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The After Party II

Pairing: Brady Skjei x Reader (f) x Andrei Svechnikov

Summary: A year after your illicit tryst with your current fling and your ex-fling, you meet again. Part two to The After Party.

Word Count: 6.3K

Warnings: Smut (18+ ONLY). Light alcohol use/mention, swearing. Threesome (MFM - no MxM), fingering (vaginal + anal - f receiving), oral sex (m + f receiving (vaginal)), unprotected sex, vaginal sex, anal sex (f receiving), double penetration, mild cumplay. **Please do your research before engaging in any sexual activity but especially anal sex. This is fiction and by no means any indication of how one should prepare. :)

Author's Note: happy belated birthday, @smileysvech! I hope your bday gang bang 2.0 makes this year's celebration one to remember. thank you for being my biggest cheerleader and for all of your unwavering support. 😘🖤

nhl masterlist | moodboard

The party is unlike one you’ve ever been to. Like a themed sorority bid night, but with a much higher budget; the decor is elaborate, a sea of blacks and reds and glitter. Candles illuminate the room, making the atmosphere feel dark. Ornate. Indulgent.

Your boyfriend dons a black leather jacket and black jeans that accentuate his thick thighs. His jacket is completely unzipped, revealing more than a tantalizing sliver of his toned, golden muscles; they’re all but bare, the deep cut lines of his abdomen, an opportunity to show off his impressive body. The silver cross branded on his bare sternum is a stark contrast to the crown of thorns perched on his head. Judas.

Your dress contrasts his outfit entirely; lace and ivory wrapped around your body, the corset bodice hugging your figure. It’s demure, but the gold necklace—a 37 sitting prettily on your exposed chest—draws the eye down to your cleavage, a sexy twist to the otherwise sweet, shy, virtuous look. Thick, feathery wings glitter on your back, enhancing the angelic look, complete with a pretty, glittering rhinestone crown—symbolic of a halo.

A light to his dark, day to his night, heaven to his hell. Andrei’s angel.

His brand on you runs far deeper than his name etched onto your back at his games, and though your claim on him is invisible, he wears it proudly on his chest, seizing every opportunity to show you off as his girl. It’s been there since before he made you his girlfriend, officially, but it’s only grown since then in the last year that you’ve been together.

Tonight is no exception. Andrei’s hand lingers on your side, a silent message to anyone who would dare to question who you belong to. You’re not typically one for the whole possession thing, but you can’t deny him—not when he looks at you like that.

You mingle, sipping on your cocktail, enjoying the night of frivolity—one of the last before the final push of the season and preparation for playoffs begins. Nykki and Martin make their way to you two, and eventually, the two boys depart in favor of who knows what shenanigans.

Across the room, talking to two pretty leather-clad demons, is the handsome brunette from your past. His handsome, warm smile is plastered across his face, no doubt letting some pretty words doused in honey drip from his mouth. You ignore the pang of—something—that bubbles in your chest at the sight, not even wanting to spend the time identifying what it is.

As if he can sense it, his eyes glance up and lock with yours for the briefest of moments. A smirk plays at the corner of his lips as he lifts his beer to his mouth, winking so quickly you’re not sure if you imagined it. The next moment, he’s back to his flirtatious antics, laughing jovially at the taller of the two girls flanking either side of him.

You return to your conversation with Nykki, though you feel his gaze flitting back to you, burning a hole in your side, tempting you to look his way. Glittering disco balls hang from the ceiling, illuminating the walls with the light from the candles’ flames, and you ignore the urge to glance over at him again.

“Your outfit is so cute,” Nykki’s saying, fingers caressing the feathers on your wings. “And I love your wings!”

With a smile, you thank her. “I was going for a bit of a sexy angel vibe, you know?”

“I’m sure Andrei appreciates that very much,” she replies with a knowing smirk and a gentle nudge of your elbow. You chance a look back to the corner of the room, but the handsome brunette you’ve been making eyes at is gone; you don’t dare to turn your head to look for him, not standing next to Nykki.

Soon enough, she gets called away, and you’re left alone, uncomfortably vulnerable at a party where you still don’t quite feel like you belong, despite having attended several events as Andrei’s other half. Swirling the ice in your cocktail glass, you’re about to down the rest of your drink so that you can head back to the bar before you search for your boyfriend. As the rim of the glass touches your lips, you feel a looming presence approach your left side.

“Should’ve known you’d copy me,” says a voice that you know all too well. Out of instinct, your head turns and you’re blessed with the sight of Brady, up close and personal. His dark hair, peppered with gray, is messy, styled that way, a strand falling lazily in his face—he looks more like James Dean than an angel, with the suave and confident demeanor.

“I think I look way more angelic than you,” you say, eyeing the loosely buttoned linen top and expanse of his chest. He looks so effortlessly cool, the high-waisted, wide-legged ivory slacks hanging loosely as he’s leaned against the wall with an air of nonchalant swagger.

He watches you, a smug smile tugging at his lips. The beer bottle rests loosely between two fingers and his thumb. “Take a picture. It’ll last longer.”

Your face grows hot at the callout and your eyes dart away, embarrassed. You’re sure he’s smirking now, feeling the burn from his gaze.

“You do look beautiful, though.”

Brady’s voice is lower as he says it, almost like he’s dropped the confident, playboy facade. You thank him shyly, and in the blink of an eye, the curtain’s back up, the smirk plastered back on his face.

“Where’s your man?” he asks casually. He might as well have been glancing at his nails, but you have the feeling his question is far from innocent.

“Think he’s out playing Spikeball on the patio,” you reply, head craning to try and spot him through the window. He’s exactly where you thought, grinning after slamming the ball into the net, fist bumping Marty in celebration. You smile.

“And he left you alone? Looking like that?”

You shoot Brady a glance, the bold flirtation alerting you to his potential motives. It is his birthday, after all, and you certainly gave him a birthday to remember last year.

Your eyebrow raises. “What’s it to you?”

“Well,” he says, slipping a hand into his pocket, “I know if you were my girl, I’d be fucking you over the counter in the bathroom right now, dressed like that.”

Heat floods your body, white hot and scorching straight through your bloodstream at his blunt words. You sip at your drink, desperate for something to alleviate the dryness in your throat. “That’s not very angelic of you to say, Saint Skjei.”

“Aww, but baby, we both know you’re far from angelic. Don’t we?”

This time, in addition to the warmth on your cheeks, you also feel a deep throb between your legs. His words beckon a flashback of strong hands—4 of them—caressing your body, driving you to the height of pleasure; of the feeling of being so delightfully full.

“Baby, come outside and—oh, shit, hey, Skjeisy,” Andrei’s deep voice echoes, veering from his path to you to give his teammate a clap on his back. “Birthday brother.”

Brady offers your boyfriend a wide grin and a clink of his bottle against Andrei’s glass. Your cheeks burn as they flank you, tall and looming and so large compared to you. The memory of last year’s celebration lingers, flooding your mind with a foggy heat that suddenly makes it a little bit hard to breathe.

“What’re you up to?” he asks, looking at you with a smile, like he can see the mist clouding your brain. “What’d I miss?”

“Just telling your beautiful girlfriend how fuckable she looks,” Brady says, unabashed. If you weren’t used to his antics by now, you’d be surprised at his boldness.

Andrei pauses for the briefest of moments, registering the implication behind his friend’s words before he’s turning to look at you, a mischievous expression on his face. “She does, doesn’t she?”

By now, your pulse is racing, practically sweating under the heated gaze of both men standing before you. You watch both of their eyes roving over your figure, undoubtedly envisioning filthy things; you wonder if either of them notice the way your pulse beats in your throat.

“Malyshka, tell him what I told you earlier tonight.” Andrei’s command is gentle, light-hearted, but there’s a longing behind them.

Surging heat goes straight to your cheeks, burning at having to repeat Andrei’s words. You glance at him, and he nods encouragingly. So you swallow, murmuring, “Y-you said you were gonna fuck me how I deserved to be fucked tonight.”

Amusement flickers in Brady’s eyes, along with a blue flame that matches the one glowing inside you. “Oh yeah? How’s that?”

“Like the only girl lucky enough to fuck me on my birthday,” Andrei finishes for you. A statement of pride; pride in the ownership you have over him, too.

The fire in Brady’s irises grows, burning bright. You watch an entire cinema of filthy thoughts run through his mind; you’re sure all three of you are thinking the same thing—it’s Brady’s birthday, too. And you are a lucky, lucky girl.

Tension is thick in your little triangle, almost like you’re sizing each other up. Andrei’s eyes dance to yours, and he presses a gentle kiss to your cheek, whispering in your ear, “You want him to come home with us, dorogoy?”

Your gaze locks with Brady’s, who couldn’t have heard your boyfriend’s question, but looks like he’s waiting for your answer all the same. Keeping your eyes on his melted chocolate ones, your only reply is a subtle nod, and you feel Andrei’s smile against your cheek.

Twenty minutes later, you step into Andrei’s apartment after the world’s most excruciating Uber ride with the heat of Brady’s leg pressed against yours, his hand drawing slow, teasing circles on the inside of your thigh. Andrei had sat in the passenger seat, making idle conversation with the driver, Brady chiming in regularly, as if he wasn’t driving you into a slow descent into insanity. It was almost enough to make you mad, had you not been spending all of your effort trying not to make a mess on the Uber’s leather seats.

You watch the way Brady’s eyes flare with heat when he follows the two of you into the kitchen, eyeing the quartz countertop. His eyebrow arches with a glance at Andrei, a silent message sent in the quiet of his apartment. The brunette slinks up beside you, a warm hand caressing your waist, and all at once you remember.

“I’d be fucking you over the counter in the bathroom right now, dressed like that.”

He catches your eye, a wink at you as if he knows you’re remembering his words. “So pretty.”

“So are you,” you whisper shyly. His lips curl into a grin, making him look even more handsome.

Brady stalks closer to you, all too similar to a predator stalking its prey; the only thing missing is David Attenborough’s dulcet tones, narrating his actions like a wildlife documentary. Despite the itch in the tips of your fingers to touch his skin, to drag your hands through his hair, you back away from him until you’re caught between the kitchen island and his large, looming body. Andrei seems content to watch the scene in front of him play out, standing behind you on the opposite side of the island.

“Wanna kiss you,” Brady says, voice barely above a whisper as his eyes move to your lips. Your throat bobs in anticipation as you feel the edge of the countertop pressed into your lower back, trapped between Brady’s body and the island. “Can I?”

You nod, but you see Brady’s eyes flick behind you, silently seeking approval from your boyfriend. Andrei must have given it, for the next moment, Brady’s smiling, hand moving to thread through the curls you’d styled earlier that day. His lips brush against yours, feather light, teasing, waiting.

The pause is agonizing, time momentarily standing still as your heart thuds against your chest before Brady finally, finally presses forward to kiss you fully. It’s sweet, far sweeter than the mischievous glint in his eye or the seductive lines he’d traced on your leg in the Uber; for a moment, he really is the angel he’s dressed as instead of the carefully hidden sinner’s persona.

It doesn’t take long for Brady to deepen the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours as his hands move from your waist to knead at the globes of your ass. His lips curl upward as he swallows your moan, lifting you easily to set you on the countertop. Warm hands slide up the front of your bare thighs, pushing the skirt of your dress up to reveal bare, sensitive skin.

The shift in position allows you to press your body into him, knees settling on either side of his hips as he steps between your legs. Your makeout gradually shifts from sweet and timid to passionate and scorching, whimpers slipping out of your throat as his hands slide the straps of your wings off your shoulders.

Brady’s lips trail over your jawline, sending a shiver down your spine when his lips find the spot on your neck that makes your toes curl. Your head falls back, allowing him easier access to suck a mark into the tender skin. He places a hand behind your head, supporting your neck, guiding you slowly down onto your back.

The countertop is cool against your bare shoulders, your large, feathery wings no longer digging into your skin. You shiver, not from the temperature of the quartz, but the heat from Brady’s gaze as he tears his lips away from you, standing slowly. His hands blaze fire down your legs, trailing a fingertip lightly down your calf before grasping an ankle in each hand, making a slow show of spreading your legs.

“Forgot you like to wear these little tiny things you call underwear,” he muses, running a thumb along the sodden lace covering your modesty.

Andrei, no longer interested in sitting on the sidelines, lets his palm coast over your chest, over your breast, over the bunched up fabric from your skirt, feeling for himself what Brady describes. “You’re soaked already, malyshka.”

Already, just the touch of their hands on your body lights it on fire, and you sigh as Brady’s thumbs rub gentle circles into your calves. Your pulse quickens, nipples instantly hardening when Andrei pushes the top of your corset top down your torso, freeing your breasts. His hand offers a small reprieve from the cool air when it massages one of your breasts, humming approvingly at the way your spine arches into his touch.

“He’s good with his hands, isn’t he?” Brady coos.

You nod, and Andrei smirks at you. Lord knows how many times he’d brought you to a euphoric release with just his hands alone, skilled and strong and wicked in their promise. As if to prove the point, he pinches your peaked nipple between two fingers, earning a yelp from your mouth. But then his hand trails farther, two large fingers digging into the damp lace and tugging it to the side; you gasp quietly at the cool air that hits your most intimate area, the sound melding into more of a moan when you see the heat in Brady’s eyes as he gazes at your folds.

The dynamic is clear: Andrei, revealing you to his friend, presenting you on a platter—or, in this case, his kitchen counter.

“I didn’t get to taste you last time,” Brady comments, his voice low and husky. “Not really.”

Your core clenches at his words, anticipation buzzing through you. Brady smiles, licking his lips. Above you, Andrei nods once, and the brunette needs no more encouragement to sink lower until he’s eye-level with your cunt. He draws a finger through your center, collecting some of the dripping nectar with a click of his tongue.

“This for him,” he asks, jerking his head toward Andrei, who has resumed the gentle knead and massage of your breasts, “or me?”

Another pinch of your nipple has you whimpering. “Wh-who says it can’t be both?”

A low chuckle sounds from Brady’s throat, a smug smile curling up on his handsome face. “Knew you liked being shared, pretty girl, just didn’t know how much.”

He delves into your core like a man starved, long laves of his tongue ending with a flick against your sensitive clit. By instinct, your back arches and your hips raise to meet his mouth, seeking out more of the pleasure that blooms through your body as he presses his face against you. “So sweet, baby.”

Brady is good with his mouth, and he knows it. Expertly, he alters between flat licks of his tongue and sucking gently on your clit, with a precision only someone with experience can manage. It doesn’t take him long to remember what makes you tick, how you gush around his tongue when he slides it inside of you and fucks you with it.

Just as the energy starts to build deep within you, you’re crying out when he abruptly tears himself away from you. “Brady—”

“Hmm?” he asks, sharing an amused look with Andrei. “What’s wrong?”

“Need—need your mouth.” You can’t help the whine that accompanies your words, the desperation that crawls under your skin.

“Aren’t you forgetting someone?”

You lick your lips, guiltily glancing back to catch Andrei, an eyebrow raised and an amused smirk painted on his face.

“He has a nice mouth,” you say, as if to justify your unrestrained desire for the man who isn’t your boyfriend.

Andrei hums. “So do you, kisa. Can you do something for me?”

“Anything.”

“Lay your head back for me.”

You do as told, and Andrei tugs you toward him a few inches so your head is leaning off of the countertop. “Open your mouth for me, baby.”

Andrei leans down to kiss you, soft and slow, and you sigh into him, the familiarity of his mouth helping to alleviate some of your nerves; the pulse between your legs is all but forgotten under his attention. As he pulls away, he purses his lips, dropping a long, thick wad of saliva into your open mouth. You feel the slow drip of it against your tongue, slipping down your throat as you swallow obediently.

“Khoroshaya deovochka,” he murmurs as he stands to his full height. Good girl.

The praise makes your nipples tighten as you shiver. You can feel Brady’s hot breath on your inner thigh, can feel the heat from his gaze as he takes in the sight of your open, wet, waiting core. His lips against your skin makes you jolt slightly, a sigh breathed out against Andrei’s tip pressed against your lips.

“God, I missed eating this pretty pussy,” Brady says, his tongue flitting against your entrance, teasing you. You can feel the way your pussy throbs under his attention, like she knows she’s mere moments away from relief.

Andrei chuckles lowly, his eyes no doubt stuck on the brunette working his way between your thighs. Your own throat bobs in anticipation, waiting for Andrei to push his tip past your lips and into your open mouth.

Then, as if following a countdown that only they could hear, Brady’s fingers broach your eager entrance, simultaneous with the gentle push of Andrei’s length to meet your tongue. Swiftly, steadily, they fill you up with a practiced precision that makes your toes curl, the sensation so complete and fulfilling—pun intended.

Your Russian is patient, feeling the gasp as Brady works another finger into you before his hand slips into your hair, holding your neck steady while he presses his hips forward. He tests his own restraint, inching in and out while your mouth and throat accommodate and adjust to his size, your tongue flatting against the top of him.

Brady’s mouth joins his fingers, sure to catch the slick pooling around your entrance; he probes and teases with the tip of his tongue, taking his time to re-learn what makes your spine arch and the breath catch in your throat. He groans, exhaling lowly against your center, eyes fluttering closed as he savors the taste of you.

“So fucking sweet. Svech, do me a favor and fuck her face a little harder so I can feel her gush on my tongue.”

“Aye aye,” Andrei says with a smirk, a mock salute before his other hand is placed on the other side of your neck, stabilizing your face before he gently picks up the pace of his thrusts. Your eyes water at the intrusion, at the different angle of his cock in your throat, breathing steadily through your nose.

Soon enough, your boyfriend has a consistent rhythm, and any whine you want to let out is blocked by his length lodged in your airway. He hums, smugness dripping from his voice, “Love watching the outline of my cock in your throat, kisa. You take me so well.”

The praise alone makes heat surge to your core, right into Brady’s eager mouth, and he moans, choking out, “That’s it, baby.”

His pace picks up, directly correlating to the flutter in your belly, to Brady’s tongue and fingers working in tandem to drive you closer and closer to the edge. Your hips roll against his face, seeking out that delicious friction that will have you hurtling into euphoria. His head is too far to reach with your arms, so you occupy your hands by taking to your breasts, massaging and tweaking at your nipples while Andrei continues his rough thrusts. Streaks of saliva marr your face, frothy and wet, leaving filthy evidence on his usually pristine kitchen floor.

For a fleeting second, you wonder what this must look like; you, spread wide and waiting on your boyfriend’s counter, getting stuffed at both ends by two handsome, talented men, both eager to drive you to your peak. It’s the image of your body between them that has your release barreling through you, a choked groan sounding out despite the intrusion in your throat. Brady groans, mingled curses and praises slipping out while he works you through the waves of your climax.

Andrei doesn’t let up, not until Brady’s pulling away from the apex of your thighs, the scar on his chin coated with your orgasm. He helps you up, admiring the swell of your lips and the tear tracks on your face before he smiles and presses a wet, musky kiss against your lips. “So pretty. Even prettier when your face is a mess like this.”

“You wanna take her cunt this time? My treat.” Andrei asks with a grin wide enough to reveal his missing tooth.

“I’d be honored,” Brady says with a mock nod of his head, his eyes flicking to yours with a mischievous grin.

“C’mon, malyshka,” Andrei murmurs, lifting you easily in his arms to take you into the bedroom. He deposits you on the bed, positioning you to leave room for Brady to follow and kneel before you. Your eyes draw to the bulge in his pants, the thin fabric doing little to hide his modesty as Andrei helps you to remove what’s left of your costume.

“You want it?” he asks in a teasing tone.

“You got to taste me,” you say, blinking up at him. “It’s only fair I get to return the favor.”

Andrei sniggers at your quick remark. “So eager, my pretty little slut.”

The name sends heat coursing through your body, radiating particularly between your legs. Brady moves to remove his expensive trousers, and soon, you’re presented with a mouth-watering view of his very impressive, very erect length. Your tongue slips out to lick your lips, eager to feel the weight of him in your mouth.

Of course, Brady can’t resist teasing you, gripping himself loosely as he taps his tip against your cheek. Your mouth opens, impatient, but he doesn’t give you what you want; not yet. Instead, he drags the head across your lips, slow, teasing, agonizing.

“What a good girl,” he murmurs, almost like he’s talking to himself, but then he winks at you. “So obedient.”

Brady’s instruction is simple, just a soft, “tongue out,” before he’s running his tip over it, pressing himself firmly against your tongue. You sigh out at the taste of him, precum already dripping onto your waiting taste buds, earnestly wrapping your lips around his tip as you take him into your mouth.

Beside you, Andrei draws the slightest attention back to himself by divesting himself of his clothes, dropping unceremoniously to the floor. You feel a warm, large hand running along the curve of your ass, giving the flesh a squeeze before his fingers probe lightly at your entrance, testing the slickness he finds there.

As you work at Brady’s length, jaw opening wider to fit more of him into your mouth, Andrei’s hand slides up just a few inches higher, and all at once the agreement from earlier sinks in.

If Brady was going to fuck your pussy, then that means…

Almost like he’s reading your mind, Andrei chuckles behind you when you gasp with realization. Not long after, the pad of his finger presses gently against the tight bud, teasing and prodding. For a brief moment, you tear yourself away from Brady to crane your head, just in time to see Andrei spitting onto his fingers, coating them with his saliva before bringing his hand back down to your backside. He smirks at you, then winks at Brady as his first finger teases you, your mouth falling open at the feeling—not enough.

But Brady clears his throat, not pleased with the lack of attention, and his hand gently turns your head back to face him. “Back to work, sweet girl.”

Ever eager to serve, you do as you’re told, only this time, you moan around Brady’s length as Andrei presses the tip of his finger past the puckered ring. Slowly, he eases it in, carefully testing the depth with slow, gentle pulses as your body relaxes to the foreign sensation. Your tongue lolls against Brady, whimpering as you do your best to stay focused on him.

Whether it’s to help you or just to show some dominance, you aren’t sure, but soon Brady’s hand is threading through your hair, gripping it into a ponytail at the base of your skull. Slowly, he pushes your head forward, watching the way his length slides between your lips. The beautiful brown of his eyes lock with yours, monitoring your reaction as he gradually increases the pace. His hold is firm, the tug on your hair just hard enough to have you shivering.

Soon enough, he’s fucking your throat, and Andrei’s eased two fingers into you, priming you for what’s to come. Spit, drool, and tears track your face, a frothy mixture pooling at your lips when Brady finally pulls out. He smiles, admiring his handiwork. “Love that throat of yours.”

Andrei hums behind you, his thumb brushing against your clit and nearly making you jump. “Baby, you’re dripping. You like when Brady fucks that pretty mouth?”

You nod, licking your lips with a smile. Brady winks at you. “Love fucking all of your holes, darlin’.”

A fresh wave of heat gushes between your legs, accompanied by a slap to your ass and a Russian curse. His fingers flex inside of you gently working you open. “Get to it, then,” you challenge him.

“Aw, baby, I’m flattered,” he says with another smug smile. “But I think I want to watch that pretty boyfriend of yours fuck your pretty little ass first.”

Your heart flutters at his words, and you turn to look at Andrei as he’s retrieving his bottle of lube from the nightstand drawer. The liquid is cold on your skin, warmed quickly by his hand, finger pressing into you. He eases you open, adding another finger, and then another, until he deems you ready for his more than considerable length.

“Ready, malyshka?”

You cast a glance at Brady, who smirks at you with darkened eyes, like the sight of you on your hands and knees and three fingers in your ass is nearly sending him over the edge. “Fuck me, Drei.”

When Andrei presses into you, you wince at the stretch as you adjust to the sensation. He sucks in a breath, murmuring a low curse in Russian. Gripping your sides, his hands squeeze tightly as he waits patiently for your approval to keep going.

Brady hums as he greedily drinks in the sight of you. He murmurs low, filthy promises to you, watching intently as Andrei patiently pushes deeper; your mouth falls open as your body adjusts to the stretch, his more-than-adequate width nearly enough to make your eyes cross.

“Doin’ so good for me,” is Andrei’s gentle purr, groaning as he starts low, shallow thrusts. Your fingers grip into the bedsheets, gasping out. By the time he’s thrusting at a steady pace, tears are already pricking at your eyes from how blissfully sinful it feels, his tip directly nudging into the spot that makes you see stars.

Andrei fucks you thoroughly, until you’re a mumbling, shaking mess. Your body arches as his large hand traces its way down your spine, coming to rest at the base of your neck; he presses you down into the mattress, just slightly, just enough to make your breathing a bit more labored. He leans forward, too, and you cry out when the action shifts his cock even deeper inside of you. Lips dot gentle kisses against your shoulder blades, accompanied by slow, shallow thrusts as your body trembles beneath him.

“Come,” is all he says; a command and a plea all at once. He doesn’t have to say anything else, only keep his movements steady until you cry out loudly as your release radiates through every bone in your body.

Your Russian is patient, coaxing out the final waves of your orgasm as your thighs tremble from the force of it. Brain foggy, you register the feeling of fingers carding through your hair, soothing you as your vision begins to come back to you. Soon enough, you float back into reality and Andrei smiles, warm enough to feel your heart start to melt at the sight.

“C’mere,” he says, wrapping his arms solidly around you and falling onto his back, bringing you with him. Brady’s figure steps between your legs, large and looming, his eyes glued to where Andrei’s cock is still stuffed deep inside your hole. All at once, the warmth in your heart quickly turns back into desire, and your core flutters.

“You gonna fuck me, too?” Your voice is laced with challenge, a teasing lilt in your tone.

“You want me to fuck you?” Brady quips, a dark eyebrow raised in amusement. “Want me to fuck this tight little cunt?”

“S’your birthday gift,” you say, and Andrei chest shakes with a chuckle beneath your back. Brady smiles, his eyes dragging to the place in question, spread open and waiting for him.

“Lucky me,” is his hummed response, moving his hand forward to rub a slow circle over your clit with his thumb. You whine, and Andrei pinches your sides in a silent command, holding you steady. He presses a kiss against your shoulder, his weight solid and strong beneath you—holding your body up without any effort, it seems. One of the many, many benefits of having a boyfriend who is a Big Boy.

Brady snaps your attention back to him when he steps closer to the apex of your thighs, fisting his erection as he lines himself up. His eyes, brown and molten, are transfixed on the way the tip of his cock slips into your eager and waiting entrance; he lets out a grunt at the feeling of your tight heat wrapped around him.

You, on the other hand, are completely speechless—you’ve forgotten how to speak entirely, only nonsensical babbling slipping from your mouth. The feeling has you unable to focus on any one thing, consumed by how fucking good it feels to have both of them buried deep.

The two men work in sync, wordless, the same silent telepathy that they used earlier. In. Out. In. Out. Pleasure blossoms between your legs, tingly and warm as it spreads through your core, up your limbs, to the tips of your fingers and toes; you aren’t sure where you end and they begin.

“Kisa,” Andrei’s deep voice rumbles beneath you, murmuring lowly in your ear. “Feel good?”

You open your mouth to reply—yes, God, yes—but all that comes out is a jumbled moan, lilted higher when Brady presses in just that little bit deeper. He laughs, thumbs gripping your thighs tightly as he holds you open. “You kidding, Svech? Your girl loves being stuffed full of dick. These slutty little holes are drooling all over us.”

Brady’s words earn a low flutter—whether in your belly or in another area, you aren’t quite sure—but based on the growl that slips from Andrei, you’re inclined to believe the latter. His hand slinks up your side to massage at your breast, the other branding fingertip-shaped marks into your hip. “That true, dorogoy?”

Because your brain is in the process of being fucked into mush, it’s all you can do to nod, a weak, “Yes” tumbling out of your mouth. His breath is hot against your shoulder, murmurs of Russian curses low in your ear. “How lucky am I, huh? My gorgeous girl, treating me and my friend so good on our birthday.”

The deep purr of praise is like a catalyst to the heat in your veins, setting it ablaze through every cell in your body. Your back arches off of Andrei’s warm torso, and this time you’re sure that you clench tightly around both of them.

“Drei,” you sigh, “please.”

“Please, what?”

“C-come… make me… c-come—”

Brady smiles while his thumb resumes the same steady, circular motion on your clit, like he can’t decide if he’s amused or turned on at your desperate plea. For Andrei, though, it’s no laughing matter; suddenly, his thrusts become even steadier, more sure. He’s determined, hips setting a metronome that contrasts Brady’s pace, speeding up ever so slightly.

When your climax hits, it’s like time stands still: your breath, frozen in your lungs, mouth open in a silent scream, a snapshot taken just as the fire ignites at the place where Andrei and Brady meet inside of you. Your body tenses, spine rigid as your legs begin to shake in Brady’s strong hands, doing little to absorb the ripple effect of your orgasm.

“Shiiiiit,” the brunette groans, amid the mish mash of Russian and English pouring from Andrei’s mouth as his hips slow to a halt, content to feel the way your body writhes and reacts to him.

“Think we need to do this more often,” Andrei says, and you can hear the smirk in his voice; you can see it reflected in Brady’s eyes, predatory, devouring the sight of you below him. He doesn’t need to voice his agreement out loud; it’s clear in the way he can barely resist pulling out of you to help you onto shaky feet, then to your knees on the floor.

With a blink, your gaze floats up between Andrei and Brady, standing over you, each fisting their lengths, glistening with you. Your hands dance their way up your body, brushing your hair out of the way before returning to cup your breasts. “Happy birthday, boys.”

Brady’s eyes darken and Andrei allows a low growl at the sight of you, your breasts pressed together like the sexiest canvas they’ll ever see. Both of them work their hand over their dicks, varying in speed but sharing the same intensity—the same kind of unrestrained desperation, stretching themselves for the final sprint to the finish line.

Andrei’s deep groan comes first, ropes of his release splattering across your decolletage, dripping down into the cleavage you offer. A sharp curse from Brady’s mouth precedes his own peak, cum landing on your chin before sliding down and dripping onto your chest. Your boyfriend’s eyes glitter, watching the drips meld together into a mixture of one.

Without a word, Andrei steps toward you, crouching slightly to run his hands across your chest, gathering some of the cum onto his fingers. His eyes lock with yours and, in silent reply to his silent question, your mouth opens obediently, allowing him to press his first and middle past your lips, pressing onto your tongue.

“Fuck, that’s a good girl,” Brady says, voice a combination of a chuckle and a groan. You suck on his digits, swallowing the salty mixture of them with a flourish.

“Angel,” Andrei muses, making sure you lap every last bit of cum off of his fingers. “She’s an angel.”

———

Bonus mini scene inspired by this video:

That weekend, you’re scrolling on social media when the Canes pregame video pops up. It autoplays, and your eye immediately catches the salt and pepper hair, your heart fluttering a little bit at the sight. Then Andrei’s on the screen, and you’re smiling at seeing him feeling so confident and in his element—he’s where he belongs.

But then you hear Brady say, “What a night!” followed by a loud laugh from Andrei, and your heart stops. They wouldn’t…

It takes another few replays to hear that Brady also says, “It’s a pleasure.”

When Andrei gets home later that night, high from a shutout win and clinching an official playoff spot, his wide smile fades slightly at the sight of you on the bed with your arms folded over your chest.

“Wh–?”

“Tell me what you whispered to Brady before the game,” you say, a glint in your eye.

Your boyfriend pauses, reflecting, then smirks when the memory comes back to him. His eyes flick to yours and his eyebrow raises. “You really wanna know?”

A pointed look is your only reply.

“I told him you still can’t walk today.”

SIMILAR CONTENT:

Sundress Season* Glittery* A Night in Paris*

#andrei svechnikov fic #brady skjei fic #hockey fic #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #nhl fic #andrei svechnikov x reader #brady skjei x reader #hockey smut #nhl smut

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fiapartridge · 10 months

Text

invisible string | quinn hughes

"isn't it just so pretty to think, all along there was some invisible string tying you to me..."

quinn hughes x fem!reader

summary: when quinn gets chosen to be one of brady tkachuk's groomsmen, he can't help but imagine what it would be like getting married to you...

word count: 729

warning(s): fluff! & sex jokes lol

As soon as Quinn walked out, trailing behind the rest of the groomsmen, his eyes immediately caught sight of you. The entire day, he was stationed in the best man’s suite, making sure Brady didn’t do anything stupid like run out last minute or drink so much he would have to get wheeled into the ceremony, so when he finally saw you in your silky green dress, flowers pinned to your perfect hair, it felt like he got the wind knocked out of him.

Sitting with his brothers, you didn’t even hear Jack and Luke teasing you for not paying attention to the little flower girl scattering petals down the aisle. All you could do was watch Quinn in his suit and tie as you smiled at the flowers that decorated his pocket square, knowing they matched yours. Emma had a couple extra flowers that she had thrown together to put on the boys, so she gave you some, knowing it would make this day even more special not just for her and Brady, but for you and Quinn, too.

They had been urging you two to get married for the longest time, but you didn’t feel the need to rush anything. When the time was right, Quinn would pop the question, or you would pull a ‘Friends’ and ask him instead. The time just had to feel right and the moment hadn’t come yet.

Until now.

When everyone’s eyes lit up and the violins started to play, and Emma floated down the aisle in her beautiful white dress, Quinn couldn’t help but wonder what your guys’ wedding would be like. You had mentioned you wanted it by the water surrounded by all of your closest friends and family and agreed not to make it bigger than 100 people. His little cousins would be the flower girls and Jack and Luke would fight over who would be the best man, but everyone knows Quinn would choose both of them. You had a bet with Quinn that whoever cried first would have to dance with your grandma– she talked anyone’s ear off. One dance with her actually meant three.

When your eyes met his, he mouthed a soft “I love you,” in which you returned the gesture, your eyes stinging with tears. After the vows, the newlywed couple said “I do,” the guests cheered, and it was time for the reception.

As everyone found their seats, you stood with Quinn’s brothers by the bar, making a bet with Jack that whoever drank the most would have to jump the cliff at the lakehouse when they returned next summer. You were scared shitless of the cliff and as confident as Jack may seem, he hated it too. When Quinn walked over, he smiled watching you laugh with his brothers. No other girl he was with meshed with his brothers as well as you did, which was another point Brady and Emma made when trying to get him to propose to you.

“Hi, baby,” Quinn grinned, wrapping his arms around you from behind as you kissed his cheek.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages,” you smirked.

Jack rolled his eyes. “Please, you guys were practically eye-fucking the entire ceremony.”

You smacked his arm as Quinn laughed. “We did not!”

“Yeah, that comes after the wedding, Jack,” Quinn smirked as you hid your face in his chest.

Your voice was muffled as you begged him to stop. “No more sex jokes! Lukey’s still here!”

Luke scoffed. “You’re acting as if I wasn’t just in college. I did plenty of stuff in co–”

You turned around in Quinn’s arms, pointing at Luke. “Don’t even finish that sentence.”

Luke laughed, walking away to talk to someone else as Jack followed, not wanting to be stuck as a third wheel in yours and Quinn’s love fest.

“You look so beautiful in that dress, baby,” Quinn whispered in your ear as you felt goosebumps run down your skin. “Couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

Your cheeks were stained pink as you pressed a light kiss to his lips, your thumb running over his jawline. “I can’t wait for our wedding.”

“Mhm, there will be dinosaurs, and clowns, and spiders, and space rockets, and–”

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “You’re such a prick.”

“Yet you love me.”

“Bold assumption, but… I guess you’re kinda right.”

#quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagines #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #hockey fic #brady tkachuk #wedding #invisble string #taylor swift

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puckarchives · 4 months

Text

enchanted: q. hughes

blurb: what taylor swift said. / word count: 2.4k / pairing: quinn hughes x fem!reader

The first time you met Quinn Hughes, you cried. No, literally — the moment you were introduced to the brunette was also the moment that some random person at the party you were at decided to throw his drink on the floor, where it was shattered into a million little pieces, some of which had ended up in your leg. Suffice to say, Quinn saw probably a lot more than he thought he would that night — including what you looked like when you were in pain.

Quinn hadn’t even hesitated when he realized ditched his friends and drove you to the Emergency Room, and he hadn’t left when he saw what a mess you thought you were, as he ended up staying with you until the early morning. He stayed cramped up in the seat next to your bed, soft breaths evening out until 7AM, where he all but had to run out in order to make it on time to his morning skate.

From there, your meetings were a bit serendipitous; only happening at the points in your life in which you least expected it. Since the entire debacle at the bar, the two of you had remained friends; it was hard not to, when, over the course of too many “accidental” meetings at different events, the two of you had realized that you were friends with a pair of siblings who, even in their obviousness, were trying to set the two of you up together.

While he was friends with the older Norris, while you were friends with the younger (and less annoying, according to her,) sibling — so when you found yourself living in Vancouver to finish up the rest of your graduate degree, both she and Josh had one thing in mind — getting Quinn a girlfriend. And who else would be perfect for their longtime family friend than the person they trusted most?

So, it was decided — before you or Quinn even knew, the two of you were being set up from across the country, while both Norris siblings stayed near Ottawa, they planned to have both yu and Quinn seemingly meet by chance — even going as far as to set the two of you up on a blind date.

By the time the two of you caught on to what was happening, however, neither of you could even sum up any anger; instead, the crushes the both of you harbored on each other were much too obvious to ignore the fact that you had fallen in love over the span of six months of “chance” encounters put together by meddling siblings who only wanted the best for each of you.

Unbeknownst to them, however, both you and Quinn — despite being aware of the fact that you had a crush on the other — were still on the fence of starting a relationship. On your end, you didn’t want to pressure Quinn into a relationship where he’d get bored of you, and you didn’t want a repeat of the last time you had dated a hockey player, in which you were left in the dust, and in which your relationship always consisted of you putting in more effort than he did. On Quinn’s end, however, it was different — he didn’t want you to get hurt in case he disappointed you; he didn’t want you to feel neglected when he couldn’t be the version of his that you were thinking of in your head, and he also didn’t think you had liked him in the first place.

It wouldn’t be until a few weeks later, however, when these feelings came to an abrupt halt. It was the middle of the week, and while the two of you were still in Vancouver — you finishing up your thesis and Quinn finishing up some promotional shots for Bauer, you found yourselves reaching out to the other for dinner. Of course it was as friends, but you both spent more time at Quinn’s apartment than you did on your own, so it wasn’t out of the blue to show up with a pizza box, and even an overnight bag.

As you both practically devoured the food you brought, the subject at hand changed to your upcoming plans. Quinn had been asked to be a groomsman at the Tkachuk wedding, and before you knew it, he was asking you if you’d want to go, too.

“Your last class ends the first week of July! And besides, I’ll take care of everything! I know my brother’s would love to meet you, and you know Brady by now,” he reasoned. And, to be fair, he had a point. You had met his brothers over FaceTime a few times, and had even said hello to them during one of Quinn’s home games briefly; but being his date? His official date?

Almost as if he could tell you were on the fence about the topic, he quickly tried his best to put your anxiety at ease. “It doesn’t have to be official or anything, but I’d really like you to meet my friends. As more than just a friend, if you’d like that,” he said quietly, looking at you with a hopeful look. The thing you had come to learn about Quinn was that, even if his face didn’t change that much, his eyes told you everything you needed to know about how he was feeling — and right now, he looked hopeful; like he wanted you with him, as more than just a friend. He wanted you to be his date, and introduce you to people he cared about.

Before you could see the hope turn into sadness in his eyes, you sat up straighter on the couch and looked straight at him. “I would love to, Quinn,” you whispered, before you reached out your right hand, and Quinn, picking up on the action automatically, entwined his fingers with your own. Now he smiled, his eyes not leaving yours as he picked up your hands and put a kiss to the back of your hand.

“Good. Good, yeah,” he said, his face hunting at a small smile reserved only for you. “I’ll take care of everything, you just gotta show up and look as beautiful as you always do, ay,” he said. You could only blush, laughing quietly as he tried flirting with you. “Wow, Mr. Smoothtalker. First you ask me to be your date, and now you’re trying to butter me up? You’re a real flirt, huh?” you asked with mock sarcasm. He only laughed and winked, as the two of you turned back to the film you had forgotten about, your hand still firmly in his.

It wasn’t until a few weeks later, the night before the two of you were scheduled to fly out to meet the rest of Quinn’s fellow groomsmen and join the family for the wedding’s rehearsal, that you stayed over at his place. Quinn had picked up dinner this time, and as you arrived at his apartment carrying your suitcase with you, he met you by the door.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he whispered to you as you closed the door. While the two of you were sure in your relationship, you were also still a fresh couple, and so Quinn hesitated kissing you right off the bat. Making the decision for him, though, you grabbed his nape, and brought his lips down to meet yours. “Hi, handsome,” you said back.

Quinn smiled at you, before his eyes lit up a bit. “I have a surprise for you, pretty girl. And I think you’ll like it,” he said. It wasn’t that you hated surprises, but you were concerned about how much Quinn had already spent on the trip, and even more that you saw he had rented a hotel room for the two of you.

As he led you to his bedroom, he handed you a blindfold, which was really just one of his ties. “Getting kinky here, aren’t we, Mr. Hughe? Is the surprise that you’re gonna tie me up and finally bend me over your bed?” you whispered. And wow, where the hell had that confidence come from?

Quinn laughed as you mouthed off. “No, but it can be part two if you’re good,” he said, the hand holding yours traveling up your forearm and up until it was cupping your jaw, where you then felt Quinn’s lips ghost against your own. If the tie hadn’t been covering your eyes, you’re sure you would have jumped his bones right then and there.

As he continued leading you into his bedroom, you heard the rustle of some type of plastic, and before you knew it, your blindfold was being untied, and you were face-to-face with a gorgeous gown the color of lavender, which then melted into a darker purple in certain parts. It was beautiful; the dress of your dreams, if you were honest.

“I— Quinn, what is this?” you asked as you spun around to meet his gaze.

“It’s for you. For the wedding, and for whatever you want to use it for,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. For a moment, you couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth. Quinn had gone above and beyond of what you had expected him to do; now, as you looked closely at the dress, you could see the bodice was almost sheer — the skirt having a slit up your right leg, and tiny flowers embroidered over the hemlines. It was beautiful.

“And before you say that I didn’t have to get you anything, I wanted to. You deserve to be given pretty gifts, and that dress is for me as much as it is for you. You’re gonna look amazing, and I’m gonna be fighting off every other man while we’re there,” he said, now smiling at you. God, if you weren’t in love with the man at this point, you would have been.

“Well then. It’s only fair you’re the one that gets to see me in it first. And hopefully last, too,” you said, trying to seem as seductive as possible. It was interrupted when you laughed, unable to keep serious, but Quinn kept his eyes on you — they were soft, and there was something you hadn’t seen before — want.

By the time the actual wedding came around later that week, after having to get Quinn’s tuxedo dry cleaned one more time after he spilled something on it, you found yourself back in your hotel room getting ready — you had gotten your hair done by a stylist, and makeup done by a friend in the area — both of which Quinn had covered, and wow, if that man wasn’t spoiling you this week.

Putting the last touches on your outfit, you heard the door to the suite open, and in came Quinn — freshly trimmed beard, his hair cut, dressed to perfection, and he looked, for a lack of a better word, soft. He looked happy, and you couldn’t help but blush — hoping you were part of the reason.

“I — wow, you look — wow,” was all he could say, his throat dry and all the words he wanted to tell you suddenly caught in his throat. You looked enchanting — a vision in your lilac dress that showed off your curves, showed your tanned skin and the remnants of how much you loved the sun. He was enchanted, just by seeing you.

“I— thank you. Literally, for all of this. I feel like a princess,” you laughed. Quinn only smiled back, and before you knew it, he was asking you to turn around, facing the mirrored vanity set.

“I have one more surprise for you, pretty girl,” he whispered, before he retrieved a box from his suit pocket. It was small, and if you didn’t know better, you’d think it was an engagement ring. Almost as if he could sense your peaking anxiety, however, Quinn explained what it was, while opening the small velvet box.

“I was going to wait to give this to you, but I can’t anymore. This, Y/N, is a promise ring, and in giving it to you, I’d like to promise you a few things,” he started, as he grabbed your left hand, and slipped the ring over your finger.

“I promise you that I will be there for you, for whatever you need, and to take care of you. I promise that I’m going to love you until I can put another ring on that finger, and I promise that you will always be the only woman for me, ever.

I came up here with you because, in all truth, I love you. You’ve shown me the best parts of myself — parts that I didn’t even know existed, and you make me so happy. Seeing you now, you are the most beautiful woman in the world to me, and I am so lucky to have you; so, so lucky, Y/N.” he finished, and god if you didn’t want to sob.

Not trying to waste anytime, you grabbed Quinn by his lapels, pulling his lips down to meet your own. His right hand cupped the back of your neck, while your hand went up to cup his jaw, where he angled your neck a bit to give him better access. Quinn’s kisses weren’t like anything you’d ever experienced before, and you wanted them — all of them.

As the two of you pulled away, Quinn rested his forehead on yours. “Did you really mean that?” you whispered. He only smiled down at you. “You are the most enchanting woman in the world, Y/N, and I will spend as much time as I can proving that to you. You came into my life when I needed you most — you’ve turned my entire world upside down, since the first moment I met you. Even when I would have rather been anywhere in the world that night at the party, I’m glad we ended up in that hospital room. I’m glad Norris never stopped trying us to get together, and I’m going to be honest with you — I spent that entire night and day and all of the days up until now enchanted by you.”

“I’ve gone every single day wishing you were at my door, praying that it was our very first page, and that we wouldn’t end there. I’m wonderstruck by you, every single day — even when I thought that you were in love with someone else. I was — and I am, enchanted by you, Y/N. Utterly and devastatingly enchanted,” he said, and kissed you once more.

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagine #qh43 #vancouver canucks #brady tkachuk #matthew tkachuk #hughes brothers #weddings #taylor swift inspired fic #this song actually gives me nightmares but unrelated

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angelofthenight · 10 months

Text

“Are We About to Kiss?” Pt.3

(Vance Hopper x gn!Reader)

Part 1 Part 2

Summary: Vance can barely function on your date

Warnings: Tsundere!Vance, Swearing, Flustering, Mutual Flirting, Kissing, This is just super fluffy okay

Word Count: 4.2k

( I just noticed Vance is literally ‘When He Sees Me’ and YN is ‘Never Ever Getting Rid of Me’ )

Requested by: @idk-callmewhatever @luveslasher @b3taaasquad @lanadelraystan @scarlettisconfused @gleamingpinksnake @aaronackerman @viidemoo @nepttune0 @vanceem @theteabush @kinnievan @onlyheretoreadfanficsstuff @brattzslattz

Vance paced his room like a madman in a padded cell, his closet now empty as his small amount of clothes were sprawled all across his floor. He told himself to stop acting like a chick and just pick something to wear but he couldn’t help but overthink every little option.

Of course he wanted to look good for your date but not too good that it made him look like actually cared, despite it already being obvious to you that he does in fact care. But he also didn’t want to look like a slob! He kicked through his pile of jeans that all looked the same… but they were slightly different shades and some were more rugged than the others!

His mom ironed a few pairs of his jeans which made his decisions harder. Would it be obvious to you that they were ironed? Would you think he ironed his jeans just for this stupid little date? He could perfectly picture your smug grin as you would ask him, “did you iron your jeans just for the movies?” He would probably strangle you out of embarrassment.

He looked over to the pile of his shirts. Should he wear a t-shirt or a muscle shirt to display his biceps to you? He wore muscle shirts practically every day though, so would the change to a t-shirt be obvious to you?! He hated t-shirts, he felt like a priss in them… but they did look nicer… what color would he even wear?! Should he be sneaky and wear your favorite color? Or would you catch on to that? Would it make him a creep that he even knows your favorite color?

Vance growled to himself and ran a hand through his curls. ‘It’s just the movies, we’re gonna be sitting in a dark room anyway.’ He lectured to himself about his paranoid, mad worries. His muscles physically tensed and his blue eyes widened in shape. It’d be just you and him, alone, sitting right next to each other, in the dark. The realization made his mind do flips, face reddening in heat. His hands clapped over his face to rub the heat out, grumbling swear words under his breath.

Through his fingers he noticed the arms of the clock on his wall inch closer and closer to the time you were supposed to meet up at the movies. Which led to a new stress: should he be early, on time, or fashionably late? Did he want to get there before or after you? Would he look desperate if he was early? Would he look like a time freak if he was exactly on time? Would it be cool if he came late so it looked like he didn’t care that much or would you think lowly of him?

God, he absolutely despised you for making him fall apart like this, for making him feel so weak, for making his insides feel like slush, for making his pulse absolutely freak out, for making the veins in his face feel like lava. He cursed this all in your name as he sat on the bench outside the theater a few minutes after the designated time. His arms tightly crossed over his chest to hide his sweat stains from the nerves, his legs manspreading in his ironed jeans as one of his legs vaguely bounced.

He kept checking the time every other second, his jitters getting worse and he nearly considered running out on cold feet. You were late. It was ten minutes past the meeting time and the credits were going to start very soon. Was this all in a jest? Was all your constant flirting and advances just one big joke about him? He was such an idiot to fall for it all, to actually believe that the specimen of his dreams truly liked him in that way; that you even thought of him in that way at all. That you-

“Hey, Vance!” You shouted as you sped walked over to where he was sitting, visibly out of breath. Once you reached him and smiled bright down at him, Vance blinked as his doubt and self-insecurity released him. You came. You were serious about the date. His eyebrows snapped together all of a sudden, “Did you fall in your toilet or something? The fuck took you so long?”

You chuckled bashfully, lacing your fingers together. “Sorry, I couldn’t decide what to wear.” You admitted with an embarrassed flush threatening to crawl up your neck.

Vance bit the inside of his cheek and faked a scoff and forced an eye roll. “That’s the stupidest shit I’ve ever heard. It’s just the movies, you’re not getting your picture taken for the paper.” He hissed his self-projection, mentally noting that he still needs to shove the scattered piles of clothes on his floor back into his closet.

“It took forever to get you on this date, might as well make it worth your while.” You remarked with a flirtatious grin sharpening your lips and mischievous eyes that made you look like you were going to eat him alive, which was exactly what he feared; because he knows that you could. You verbally ushered him to his feet as you started toward the ticket stand. Vance scrambled to his feet, nearly tripping over them, to follow after you like a clingy cat.

He tightly crossed his arms as he stood beside you while you paid for the tickets at the stand. You thanked the unenthusiastic worker before leading Vance through the doors, the thunder rumbling behind the approaching gray clouds in the sky making Vance slightly gulp as he walked towards his doom.

The two of you had no trouble getting concessions and finding your seats, and you just couldn’t fight off the wide, giddy smile plastered across your face and excitement bubbling in your stomach. Not for the movie, though, of course. In fact, although you’d never speak it aloud, you couldn’t care less for this Mad Max movie. What you were truly looking forward to was getting to sit right next to Vance in this dark room and tease and torment him to watch him unravel over and over again into a blushing mess.

Hm, maybe you were evil.

Vance glanced over to your fixated gaze and his brows scrunched together while he avoided your eyes. “Stop looking at me like that. We’re in public, creep.” Your eyebrows copied his as you quickly glanced around the theater consisting of only three small groups: a small family in the back, a mother and her two sons a few rows to your right, and two middle aged men more near the front row. You didn’t even think the other groups registered your existence. You amusedly rolled your eyes at Vance’s embarrassment.

The theater screen was still blank so the two of you were stuck sitting in silence. Well, it would be silent if Vance wasn’t crunching up popcorn in his open mouth. You slowly turned your head to him with a glare sharpening your eyes. You parted your lips, trying not to make a comment on how he’s already diving into the popcorn before the credits even started and how he should chew with his mouth closed.

In the state of disgust you even caught yourself wondering, this was the guy you were attracted to? You were even about to question what you exactly saw in him but your eyes then landed on how his prettily structured nose wiggled just the slightest as he ate. Your pupils traveled up the bridge of his nose to his eyes. Did his eyes invent a new shade of blue? Because you swore you've never seen that shade before, you’d remember such a pretty shade. But maybe the shade was only pretty because it was in his iris’.

You looked higher till you got to the roots of his hair and traveled down his blond curls. God, his blue eyes and blond hair combination really did make you wonder why you wouldn’t be attracted to him. He physically kind of reminded you of a male version of Cinderella. He really was a pretty guy, probably would be even prettier if he didn’t have the attitude of a hissing wild cat refusing to be pet.

You realized you had been studying his face like it was the first time you were ever seeing it, and the crazy thing was… staring at him made you a little flustered. So flustered you had to force yourself to look away as you felt heat swarm within the apples of your cheeks and your stomach get a little queasy, a feeling you hated to call butterflies.

The second you looked away is when Vance slowly glanced over to you. Both of you not knowing the other was admiring their faces. He nearly sighed at the sight of your pink tinted cheeks, it was as if they were actually glowing. Was that even possible? His enchanted eyes got distracted when you fleetingly bit your bottom lip, his attention now on your mouth. Your teeth had noticeably left your pink lip a shade darker.

Vance pursed his own lips together as he stared at your mouth, trying his hardest to not imagine how your lips would feel against his own… or even taste. Nope, that thought was too overwhelming as he thrashed his gaze off your pretty lips and they landed on your hair. Your… hair.

“You got a haircut.” He subconsciously stated aloud. You hummed as your confused response, looking over to your date. You remembered the haircut you got the same day Vance asked you out. You touched your ends a little. “Oh, I mean, barely. It was just a trim.” You let go of your hair. “Can’t believe you noticed.”

Vance’s eyes widened and he whipped his head away from you. “Don’t get your fuckin’ diaper in a twist over it.” He barked before shoving a handful of popcorn in his mouth. You smiled at his reaction. “No, I meant thanks for noticing.” You said, a soft fondness resting in your eyes.

Vance grumbled out a tight scoff through his scowling frown. “Whatever…” he paused and your eyebrows slightly raised in anticipation. “Clown cunt.” He finally added which made your smile widen as you sat back in your seat. “There it is.”

The opening credits finally started playing as you verbally stated your opinion on each short movie trailer and whether or not you were going to see it. Vance told you to shut up each time followed by a degrading name that sometimes made your jaw physically drop. You’d rather change your name to ‘Clown Cunt’ than be called a “maggot eating carcass” again.

You swore sometimes that he had a little notebook where he would take hours to think of and write the most creative, insulting names to call you. Yet you’d rather focus on the image of him even owning a little notebook made just for you. Little did you know that Vance would laugh at all the things you said at home, in privacy where he didn’t have to suck in his smile.

When the movie started you both went peacefully silent, focusing on the movie and the introduction of all the characters. You and Vance were all settled in and comfortable when it got to a part where a long conversation between two of the characters began to grow boring to him and when he glimpsed over to you he noticed you were getting bored too. Vance’s heart rate started to pick up over an idea that popped into his head. Would you make a big deal out of it? Would you obnoxiously point it out with that shit eating grin of yours? He tested the waters of your awareness by doing a high elbow stretch. You didn’t seem to care enough to glance at him.

What would happen if he just…

He quietly faked a yawn and pulled out another arm stretch above his head. He glanced over to you to make sure you were still distracted before he slowly brought his arms back down, one arm on the head of the empty seat next to him and the other on the back of your chair. He did it! He actually did it!

You felt Vance’s flexed arm rest on the head of your chair and you were pleasantly very surprised he made such a slick move like that. Your lips widened to a soft smirk as you glanced down at his legs that were spread far apart, one of them invading your personal space. You had a flirty idea for a move a while ago during one of the car chase scenes but you didn’t want to ruin his clear enjoyment of the high tension action scene or distract him from it. Plus you were scared he would literally grab your leg and snap it in half if you disturbed the scene.

But if Vance was going to make such a bold move, then you were too. So you crossed your legs and used your top calf to gently nudge and rub against Vance’s knee, just a harmless little tease.

Vance did not find it harmless.

His shoulders visibly tensed upwards and he sucked in an audible breath. He reacted like someone shot him. Even in the dark room you saw how badly his face flushed red like a sunburn. He snapped his seemingly furious stare at you and thrashed his leg away from you, as well as retreating his arm. “Keep it in your pants, you twat” he grumbled. You wheezed out a chuckle at his reception as scrambled into the empty seat next to him, leaving an open chair between the two of you.

You moved into that chair to be next to him again but as soon as your bottom was seated Vance moved down another seat… as did you. This went on throughout the whole line of seats until Vance reached the very last chair and he would have to stand up and move up or down to a different row. He groaned in defeat as you plopped down beside him, humored grin intact. “I promise I don’t have cooties, Vance.”

“You sure? It’d explain your face.” He replied snarkily as he tightly crossed his arms once again. You tilted your head so you could get a better view of his face as you put on a mischievous smile. “Are you saying I’m ugly, Vance? Is that why you can barely look at me? ‘Cause I’m just sooooo horrid to even look at?” You teased.

Vance looked right at you, glare and furrowed brows and all. “No but it’s why I wouldn’t share a drink with you.” You dramatically gaped at him and made a theatrical offended face. “You’re so mean to me, Vancy Poo~” You pouted with another tease.

Vance’s eyes embiggened and his upper lip formed a snarl, his blushing nose and ears completely ruining the threatening facade. He jabbed your shoulder with a mild punch to make you sit back into your seat. “Don’t fucking call me that unless you want me to shove your head down the toilet. And I’m not that fucking mean. I’m just honest.” He shoved his fist back under his bicep like a spoiled child. “Now shut up so we can get this movie date over with and I can go home.”

You playfully but annoyedly rolled your eyes as you rubbed your stinging shoulder, noting that he punched less harder than he usually would. “It’s not even close to midnight yet, Cinderella.” You mumbled loud enough for him to hear. Vance’s hand flew out again to smack the same shoulder with hardened knuckles, making you gasp in a wince again. “Don’t call me a princess either, you fuck.”

“Why not?” You said through your wince, still rubbing your poor abused shoulder. You looked over to Vance and teasingly smirked with coquettish eyes as you leaned against the armchair closest to him. “Oh because that would make me Prince Charming? I’d say the roles suit us perfectly.” Vance scoffed and looked back at you with a raised cynical brow. “You calling yourself ‘charming’?” He teased back. You smiled foxily and shrugged. “If the shoe fits.”

“You also saying I’m gonna turn into a shit-scrubbing peasant at midnight?” He questioned with the smallest smile creeping up onto his lips at your banter. You shrugged again, “If the shoe fits.” Vance hid his snigger in his throat. “And you call me mean?”

“Hey, calling you a princess is the nicest thing I’ve ever said about anyone.” You defended. “Cinderella only got to be a princess after she married Prince Cuntwad.” Vance corrected with a snarky matter-of-fact tone.

You barely even registered how close both of your faces were together, matching teasing smirks and impish foggy eyes, creating your very own atmosphere. “Hey Vance?” You spoke. “What.” You shifted in your seat to lean more into the armchair, keeping your eyes locked. “Are we about to kiss right now?”

Vance didn’t redden or glare or resort to violence, he just held his smirk and eye contact. “Shut up.” He mumbled, your lips merely inches apart. It was like there was a telepathic mutual agreement as you both leaned closer at the same time, your lips finding each other and clicking together perfectly like two puzzle pieces. You barely even got to feel the heat off his lips or taste the hint of soda past them before Vance abruptly peeled his lips off yours, your head slightly falling forward when he did so.

Your eyes shot open with pure, raw confusion after the literal two second perfect kiss in that perfect moment and caught the sight of Vance running down the stairs of the theater. You practically threw yourself out of your seat and ran down the steps after the blond-haired boy wearing a baby blue muscle shirt and navy blue jeans, him occasionally glimpsing over his shoulder like he was trying to escape you.

You swore you’ve seen this in a movie once.

Vance rushed out the doors into the empty theater lobby with you hot on his trail and calling out his name. “Vance! Vance, wait!” You yelled and he finally stopped, allowing you to catch up to him but leaving about a meter of space between you. You took a few seconds to catch your breath when Vance turned to your flabbergasted expression. “What happened?” You asked in complete dumbfounded bewilderment with your arms slightly out.

Vance’s jawline tightened alongside his fists. He let out some sort of vicious growl as he thrashed his fists down in the air. He pointed an accusing finger at you, his nose scrunched and nostrils flared as he bared his teeth. “You, you bitch! I can’t fucking do this anymore! It’s just, urgh! It’s just getting way too fucking much!” He spat out like a bellicose brute.

You frowned. You were beginning to assume your advances had turned annoying and harassing to him. “Vance…” you started sadly while rubbing your wrist in shame, “if you want me to stop, I will. Just say the word and I’ll leave you alone from here on out. And I’m sorry for everything I did-” Vance cut you off loudly. “What? No! Don’t turn yourself into the fucking victim, you dickhole!”

You blinked at him, now even more confused. “Well… then what’s wrong? I thought everything was going really well back there?” You asked softly with your cute little frown making Vance even more heated. “I know! That’s the fucking point, you stupid little clown cunt!” He snapped viciously, he had never sounded more audibly rogue with you.

He began pacing a short distance in front of you while he was going berserk. “God I hate you so much! I hate how you make me feel! You make me feel like a weak little sap! I feel like I can barely stand around you!” He looked over to you then hastily looked away with a growl. “I can’t even, fuck, I can’t even keep eye contact with you! Especially with how you look at me!”

He continued to complain and pace. “I hate that you make me feel pathetic and stupid! I feel like I have no dignity when I’m even near you!” He finally halted his movements. “I-I like you, alright?!”

Your amusement formed a smile. “Vance, I know.” You said, wondering if he honestly thought you still didn’t know even though that was the sole reason why you felt confident enough in pursuing him in the first place. “I know!” Vance snapped again. “And I hate that you know! I can’t fucking hide behind a secret anymore, goddamnit! And with what you make me feel, I can’t even try to be in denial! Do you even know how long it took me to decide what to wear to this stupid fucking date! Did you even notice I’m wearing ironed fucking jeans for you?!”

Vance growled out again with a homicidal-like scowl in his face and raised his curled fingers like he was getting ready to strangle you. “I hate you so fucking much! Stop giving me those eyes! You always know exactly what you’re doing, you fucking shithole bitch!”

You laughed aloud over how he was acting before slamming a hand over your mouth to cut it short. He was so dramatic. “Vance, that’s just how crushes feel. Everyone gets those weak feelings, even me. It’s completely normal and common.” You explained with a fond smile nestled in your lips. “No, it’s bad with me! You don’t get it!” Vance argued.

You laughed again at him, choosing to not be cruel and tease him about how he basically admitted that he has it bad for you. “Meow.” You chuckled out, pretending your hand was a cat clawed paw. He truly was a pussycat. “You’re such a dramatic baby.” You said as you took the steps needed to get closer to him as he huffed down at you. “Don’t forget that technically you made the first move when you went out of your entire way to find me and give me the drink I dropped when you tried to kill me.”

Vance slightly rolled his eyes and pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “Yeah, I guess I did.” He murmured. Your smile enlarged with genuine infatuation. “So just… let your guard down for me. Face your fear.” You stepped closer so that you were toe to toe.

“I’m not scared of you.” Vance defended with an annoyed glare, that redness you always work towards blooming into his cheeks. “And I’ll fucking prove it.” He added before aggressively grabbing your head and dipping his lips down into yours. And just like Cinderella reuniting with her glass slipper, you and Vance’s lips were a perfect fit. You hummed happily into the kiss, one hand gently resting on one of his wrists and your other hand gently resting on his toned bicep. Your hand softly squeezed his bicep when Vance’s lips parted to overlap with yours from a different angle.

Getting caught up in the moment, your hand on his wrist moved to his other bicep while your other hand glided upwards. Your hand slowly moved up his neck to nestle your fingers into his curls by the roots. Vance hummed and pulled away from the kiss, snatching your wrist that was nearly buried in his hair.

“Don’t do that!” He barked with rosy hued cheeks that basically told you that did in fact like it. Vance didn’t bother to continue to argue or deny his weak feelings as he sloppily pushed your hand back in his hair to pounce his lips back into yours again, except this time with one hand around your waist and the other at the back of your head.

The sweet tasting kiss lasted only a couple more seconds before Vance parted again, still leaving mere centimeters between your mouths. You almost wanted to snap at him to stop talking.

“Don’t make a big deal out of this.” Vance grumbled with a fiery glare. You rolled your eyes. “I can try… Pussycat.”

“Clown Cunt.”

“Princess.”

“Shut up.”

You both pulled the other closer to reunite your lips to melt into each other, a moment you’ve both been waiting oh so long for. And Vance thanked the world for your clumsiness as it was the thing that finally brought you back into his life when you messed up his pinball score.

He just hoped he would get used to these weakening feelings.

#vance hopper x reader #vance hopper #brady hepner #the black phone #the black phone x reader #reader insert #Vance hopper imagine #the black phone imagine

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sethsclearwater · 1 year

Text

request: “Hi!!! I love all of your work!!! Feel free to ignore but could I request a "reader finds out she's pregnant and she thinks that Paul's gonna be mad so she hides it"? I love the angst that ends with loving, passionate smut or just super sweet fluff at the end but only you know how Paul would react. Again, I LOVE your work, thanks for all you do!!!”

warnings: pregnancy???, smut, breeding kink-ish but reader is already pregnant, paul being… paul

notes: before any of you come for me - i firmly believe that paul would absolutely have an awful reason to reader being pregnant IF she wasn’t his imprint. i think the imprint bond would make it very difficult for him to be mad at reader for anything.

…

you and paul had been together for almost 3 years now. paul had imprinted on you during your senior year of high school and at first, you wouldn’t give him the time of day. it took him nearly 9 months to finally win you over and go on a date with him.

and obviously dating him wasn’t the easiest thing in the world due to his at times very unruly temper but the imprintee bond clearly affected you too and you rarely left his side after you had started dating. though, since word got out to the pack that bella was pregnant, you two had been separated more often than before.

about a week after bella’s pregnancy news broke, you found yourself sitting on the lid of your toilet seat in quite literally the exact situation.

you gripped the pregnancy test in your hand, tears streaming down your cheeks as you stared at the plus sign. you weren’t sure how this happened, you were on the pill and took it daily but you and paul had slipped up here and there by letting him finish in you. you never in a million years thought this would’ve happened.

you knew paul didn’t want kids. he made it very clear to you on multiple different occasions and you knew it was because he was terrified of becoming his father. you never argued with him about it even though being a mother was something you’ve always wanted, understanding where he was coming from but now that clearly came to bite you in the ass.

with paul out on patrol dealing with his protest against bella’s pregnancy, you went into a full-blown panic mode. you grabbed your phone, immediately looking up the nearest abortion clinic, and scheduled an appointment for the following week on their website.

you were pacing around the apartment, trying to figure out what to do until your phone lit up with a text from paul letting you know that he was on his way back from patrol and would see you soon.

you whimpered, heading back into the bathroom and throwing the pregnancy test out before turning on the shower to hopefully buy you some time and make you look less distraught.

it didn’t take long for paul to get home, he pretty quickly joined you in the bathroom after he realized you forgot to lock the door, sitting on the lid of the toilet while he told you about everything that was going on with bella and her supposed vampire baby.

you were washing your hair, thanking god paul couldn’t see you as you broke down crying when he told you they were planning on killing the baby. you thought you were being quiet until you let out a loud sob, legs shaky as you sat down on the floor of the shower and curled your legs up to your chest.

paul quickly pulled the curtain back, “what’s wrong?” he asked worriedly, immediately getting in the shower with you and pulling you into his lap, his clothes getting soaked by the warm water streaming down.

“hey, hey look at me-” paul cooed, curling his hand free under your chin to force you to look up at him. you shook your head, pressing your hands to his chest in a weak attempt to push yourself away from him.

he just shook his head, tightening his grip on your hip and releasing your jaw to pull you closer to his chest, “what’s going on?” he asked softly, pressing his lips to the crown of your head as he waited for you to calm yourself down.

you took in a shaky breath, shaking your head as you let out another loud whimper, “i can’t tell you.” you explained weakly, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

“what do you mean you can’t tell me? princess,” paul sighed, pressing his lips to the crown of your head again, “i can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.” he explained, rocking you from side to side as you continued crying into his chest.

you tightened your fist on the thin fabric of his t-shirt, shaking your head again as he cupped his hand under your jaw, gently forcing you to look up at him, “hey,” he cooed, thumb rubbing circles on your jaw as he watched your worriedly.

“just tell me what happened and you’ll feel way better princess, i promise.” he cooed softly as tears continued to run down your cheeks, you hiccuped from the tears, bottom lip quivering as you shook your head again.

“you’ll hate me.” you whispered hoarsely, and he shook his head.

“princess,” paul sighed, “i couldn’t hate you if i tried. please tell me what’s going on.” you whimpered, taking a deep breath as you took his hand and pressed it to your lower abdomen.

paul looked from you, to your abdomen, and then back up to you again. you let out a loud sob, hiccuping again, “i’m so sorry i don’t know what happened.” you explained weakly, “i already booked an appointment at the clinic and i’ll deal with it but i just-” you paused as another sob racked through your body and you wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face into the soaked fabric of his t-shirt as you sobbed.

it took paul a moment before you felt his arms slide up to wrap around you, holding you close to his chest, “shhhhh…” he cooed, pressing his lips to your hairline, “how far along are you?” he asked softly, gently rubbing his hands up and down your naked figure.

“i don’t know,” you whimpered, peeking up at him, “maybe a month? i’m sorry-” you started but he slid his hand under your jaw and pressed his lips to yours, stunning you for a moment.

after a moment he pulled away, resting his forehead against yours, “i want you to have him… or her - fuck - i’m so sorry princess” paul explained and you whimpered, sliding your hands up his chest to cup his face in your hands.

“you’re not angry?” you asked softly, and he shook his head, gently brushing the tears off your cheeks with his thumb.

“no,” paul sighed softly, “of course i’m not angry with you princess. how could i be mad at you for being pregnant?” he reassured, looking down to where both of your hands rested over your naked abdomen and let out a soft sigh.

“you can barely tell yet,” he started, sliding his other hand down from your jaw to the small of your back, “i was wondering why you’ve been so sensitive lately.”

“sensitive?” you asked softly, letting out a giggle as you sniffled, using the back of your hands to brush your tears away.

“physically i mean,” paul quickly explained, looking back up at you before adding, “sorry, didn’t mean that you’re emotional.”

you giggled again, “i’m a hot mess right now paul, i think it’s fine to call me emotional.” you sniffled, wiping away the tears that continued to fall down your cheeks.

the corner of his lip curled into a small smile, “i’m sorry, your clothes are all soaked now.” you murmured after a moment and he shook his head, sliding his hand up to the back of your neck to pull you in for a soft kiss.

“the clothes will be fine. why don’t we use the tub so you can relax?” he suggested and you nodded, both of you taking a deep breath together before he helped you up, turning off the shower and helping you sit down on the counter as he started the faucet on the tub.

“you like those bath bomb things right? wait can you use those now? i don’t know what pregnant people…” he trailed off and you giggled again, sniffling before responding.

“yes i can still use the bath bombs paul.” you answered softly, smiling up at him sheepishly and he chuckled, tossing one in the bath before peeling his soaked shift off and tossing it into the hamper.

you watched as he undid the zipper on his shorts, staring a little longer than you probably should’ve and paul quickly caught onto it, “sorry,” you murmured, cheeks heating up as you looked away from him, “these stupid hormones are messing with my head.”

you felt his pointer finger lifting your chin up so you could look at him as he used his other hand to part your thighs so he could step in between them, “nothing to be sorry about princess.” paul cooed, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, gently gnawing on the skin and he released your chin, brushing your hair behind your ears, “good to go in the bath?” he asked softly and you nodded, wrapping your legs around his waist and arms around his neck so he could lift you up.

he stepped into the tub, lowing the both of you down into the warm water so you could straddle his lap. you let out a soft sigh as the pink warm water encompassed your body the smell of lavender from the bathbomb immediately relaxing you into paul. you rested your cheek against his shoulder as he rubbed his hand up and down your back, committed to calming yourself down.

“i meant what i said earlier,” paul started after a moment and you hummed softly, not sure what he meant before he continued, “about the baby i mean.” he clarified, “i want you to keep him.”

you pressed a soft kiss to his shoulder, “you want a baby?” you asked, threading your fingers through his hair.

“with you.” paul responded before clarifying, “i want a baby with you.” the corner of your lip curled into a smile at that, using your free hand to take his hand and press it to your abdomen, humming softly as he rubbed small circles against your skin.

“do you want to keep him?” paul asked softly, almost sounding… concerned which was unusual for him. you pressed another kiss to his shoulder before lifting your head up to look at him.

“of course i do,” you said softly before adding, “you know i want a baby… i just thought that you wouldn’t.” you murmured, looking up at paul anxiously as he let out a soft sigh of relief, his hand giving your hip a soft squeeze.

“i’m sorry i made you think that,” paul pressed another gentle kiss to your hairline, “i do want you to have him.” you pressed a soft kiss to his jaw, trying to hide the wave of tears that rolled down your cheeks at his comment.

he cupped your jaw with his hand, “why are you crying?” he asked softly, thumb brushing the tears away as you shook your head.

“‘m sorry it’s just these stupid hormones.” you murmured again, letting out a soft giggle as you tried to compose yourself and paul smiled, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

you melted into him, quickly knotting your fingers into his hair as you pulled him closer to you. the water splashed a bit as you shifted to press yourself completely against him, your hips subconsciously rolling down in an attempt to create some friction.

paul pulled away for a moment to allow you to catch your breath, resting his forehead against yours, “can we…” you trailed off shyly.

he smiled, nodding as he ran his free hand over your thigh and inbetween your legs, “you tell me if it’s too much, okay? i don’t wanna stress you out.” he asked and you nodded.

the gentleness was so unlike him, something you’d only seen on a few occasions so having him touch you like this was intimate. he grazed his finger of your clit, eliciting a loud whimper out of you.

you whined, grinding your hips down against his finger and he chuckled, “sensitive little thing.” he murmured under his breath, pressing down on your clit to give you the friction you were craving.

“paul please-” you whimpered and normally he would’ve reprimanded you for not using your words but tonight he was committed to staying as gentle with you as possible. he nodded, dipping a finger into your heat as his thumb continued to rub gentle circles against your clit.

you mewled in his lap, tightening your fingers in his hair as he added a second finger, gently scissoring his fingers to stretch you out for him. he felt your breathing hitch as your walls tightened around him quicker than usual, “you gonna cum on my fingers princess?” he asked softly, using his free hand to rest against the small of your back and help stabilize you.

you nodded, letting out a loud whimper, “can i?” you asked breathlessly, grinding your hips down onto his fingers as he continued pumping his fingers in and out of your pussy.

he nodded, “go ahead then, cum on my fingers princess.” he cooed, watching in awe as you quickly met your orgasm with his approval, throwing your head back as a soft moan left your lips and your velvet walls throbbed around his fingers.

he allowed you to ride his fingers for a few more moments as you rode out your high before you leaned forward, relaxing your grip on his hair to wrap yourself around him, resting your head on his shoulder. he pressed a gentle kiss to your temple, rubbing his free hand up and down your back as he pulled his fingers out of you, cooing to you as you he whimpered at the emptiness.

“gonna fill you up in a second princess.” paul reassured, pumping his length in his hand and helping lift your hips up with his other hand.

you moaned softly when you felt the tip of his length press against your entrance, paul gently pulled your hips down so you sank onto his length, releasing your hip when he was fully seated inside of you so he could give you a moment to adjust to his size.

“fuck,” he groaned as he felt your walls flutter around him, “you have no idea how good you feel princess.” paul leaned back against the tub and cupped your breasts with his hands, rolling your nipples between his fingers. you meweled at the heightened pleasure, tightening your grip on his shoulders as he continued to play with your nipples while he waited for you to adjusto him.

you whimpered after a moment, pressing a kiss to the crook of his neck and ground your hips down against his letting him know you wanted him to move. normally you would’ve been reprimanded for not using your words but it seemed like paul was quite enjoying being softer with you tonight as he gripped your hips, and dragged you up and down his cock.

you sat up, grabbing his biceps to steady yourself as he continued to bounce you on his cock. “paul-” you groaned loudly, beginning to assist him with your movements as you rolled your hips down.

paul threw his head back at that movement, “fuck-” paul groaned, “you feel so fucking amazing.”

you mewled at his praise, bouncing up and down on his cock as you chased your second orgasm of the night, “atta girl,” paul encouraged, “my cock making you feel good?”

the slew of praise had you teetering on the edge of your second orgasm, you nodded, whimpering out an, “mhm,” as your eyes watered with tears as you tried not to cum on him right then and there, “can i cum on you? please-” you whined, desperate to come undone on your boyfriend.

“go ahead then, i’m right behind you,” paul encouraged, his grip tightening on your hips as he started fucking you on his cock at a pace that was more pleasurable for the both of you, “wanna see you make a mess on my cock.”

his encouragement was all you needed to cum on him, head falling back as you let out a loud moan, gripping him like a vice and sending him over the edge right after you. paul let out a low groan, pulling you down as far as you could go on his length as he came, releasing your hips to pull you closer to him as the two of you rode out your orgasms.

paul was the first to come back down from his high, pressing soft kisses to your hair as you came back to reality. “deep breaths princess,” paul cooed, rubbing his hand up and down your back.

you nodded, slowly sitting back up as you let out a yawn, “you tired?” he asked, threading his fingers through your hair to stroke your scalp.

“mhm,” you murmured, “can you stay with me tonight?” you asked softly, worried he’d have to leave for patrol again.

“obviously i’m staying with you tonight.” he reassured, “c’mon.” he cooed, helping you wrap yourself around him so he could pick the both of you up and get out of the tub.

you whimpered as he set you down on the counter and pulled himself out of you, quickly grabbing a towel and wrapping it around you and worked at drying you off. once he was satisfied that you were dry enough, he quickly dried himself off and threw on a pair of boxers and sweatpants before helping you into your pajamas.

he picked you up again, walking you into your shared bedroom and lying you down on the bed before getting under the covers with you, “you’re gonna look so pretty with that pregnant belly,” paul mused as he pulled you into a spooning position so he could rest his hand on your abdomen.

you giggled softly, “you think?” you murmured, peeking over your shoulder at him and he nodded, “absolutely positive.” he reassured, “now get some sleep, you need it.”

you smiled, wrapping his other arm around you so you were caged in his grip before drifting off.

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mirrorballshiningjustforyou · 2 years

Note

can I get some Robin finney and Vance finding out their s/o is ticklish?

The Black Phone Boys x Ticklish Reader

Finney shaw/blake

Once finney finds out you're ticklish he'll tickle you all the time (when you're comfortable.)

He found out when you guys were at school, he wanted to put his arm around you but you moved so he touched your (tickle spot besides feet)

You started laughing and he continued to do it "on accident" on purpose

If you ask him why his answer will be simple "I just love to hear your laugh, (reader)

Robin arellano

Once robin finds our you're ticklish he'll start doing it more often but not as much as finney will

He will do it in public because he does not give a shit.

He found out when you guys were play fighting.

He hit you on the side and you laughed

He wasn't sure if you laughed because he hit you there or because it didn't hurt.

So he hit you there again and you laughed.

He kept doing it more often but in private

Vance Hopper

Vance found out when you were staying over at his house

You were both laying next to eachother and he moved his arm to move the blanket

He hit your rib and you laughed so he looked at you weird and hit you again harder

This time, you didn't laugh you just stared at him.

So he didn't do it anymore

#the black phone 2022 #the black phone #the grabber #tbp imagines #tbp x reader #tbp #brady hepner #miguel cazarez mora #mason thames #robin arellano #robin arellano x reader #pinball vance #vance hopper x reader #vance hopper #finney blake x reader #finney x reader #finney shaw #finney blake #tbp finney

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crazyk-imagine · 5 months

Text

How they feel when they find out you're their Imprint Headcanon

A/N: I was bored and now everyone has a Twilight Christmas gift!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Embry

Shocked but excited to have found his imprint (especially after seeing Sam and Emily), was not expecting it to be the town mean girl but when you two are together, your total sweetheart which throws off the guys except Paul (he's the same way)

Quil

Happy that's it someone he knows, even if you two haven't talked in a few years (he always knew you two were meant to be). The pack was happy when he finally quit his moping about how much he missed you and considered himself lucky to ask you out

Jared

Thrown off when it wasn't the one girl who showed an interest in him since freshman year but once he got to know you, he knew the fates never messed up and you two were meant to be together

Paul

Never wanted an imprint but when he heard you defending him and the pack, he knew you two were meant to be, kind of like the next generations Emily and Sam (Quil and Colin like to joke around and tell him when you're not around)

Jacob

Dude was downright flabbergasted when he imprinted a year after shifting and it wasn't on his favorite (person and human), Bella. Once he got to know you, he was happy he didn't end up with her (she comes with too much drama while you two are drama free)

Seth

Never admitted out loud but after watching Emily and Sam plus Jake and Renesme together, it really made him want to find his imprint and then he found you and he was so happy, everyone jokes and says he acted like an excited puppy

Leah

Never wanted an imprint especially after the whole thing with her cousin and ex but after almost dying because she denied the imprint and worked on getting to know you, she found herself wondering how she could ever be without you

Sam

Wasn't expecting to meet you so soon after he shifted and was introduced to the supernatural world (and came to believe in the legends he was told for so long), but thinks meeting you was a secret blessing because you can calm him

Brady

Didn't know what to expect after hearing brief details about imprints, but boy was he floored when he met you and then you asked him out, he nearly passed out on the spot (the pack doesn't let him forget about it)

Collin

Knew he was going to meet his imprint at some point but was not expecting it to happen while he was out getting groceries to replace what he and the pack had devoured from Emily's and then you wind up going to his alpha's place too, boy nearly lost his mind

#twilight #twilight wolfpack #twilight x reader #twilight fanfiction #twilight fanfic #twilight x you #twilight headcanon #sam uley #jared cameron #paul lahote #seth clearwater #leah clearwater #jacob black #embry call #quil ateara #brady fuller #collin littlesea #crazyk-imagine

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haddonfieldwhore · 5 months

Text

winter things - matthew tkachuk

matthew tkachuk x gn!reader

summary: your best friend matthew brings you home to celebrate the holidays with his family. their only christmas wish is for the two of you to finally get together

warnings: mentions of drinking, use of y/n like twice? (this is my first time including the whole tkachuk fam in a fic and i’m not super confident with it so please take it easy on me)

i hope you all enjoy the fic! happy holidays🌲♥️❄️

word count: 2.8k

you smiled at the familiar house that came into view as matthew pulled the car into the driveway. you had spent so much time here growing up with the tkachuks that it was almost a second home, welcoming you back with open arms as you stepped out of the car, a thin crust of snow crunching beneath your boots. matthew sniffled as he walked up the driveway next to you, and you laughed, watching as he struggled to carry all of the gifts that he insisted to bring all in one trip from the car.

“calm down, florida. it’s not that cold,” you laughed, careful not to drop the tin of christmas cookies your mitten covered hands held tightly. you and matthew had traveled from the sunshine-state to st.louis, where you had grown up together. whenever you came back to visit, despite all the years he spent living in calgary, it always took him a day to get used to the snow again.

“shut up,” he pouted, but even he couldn’t contain the smile that spread across his lips. even with his hands full of gifts, matthew held the outside door for you, and before you could even raise a hand to knock the inside door opened, revealing taryns smiling face.

“hey! took you guys long enough to get here,” she laughed, and matt sent her a mocking glare. “let me take that from you”, she offered, grabbing the cookie tin from your hands as you and matthew walked inside. you shook off the light dusting of snow that had gathered on your shoulders, before you felt matthews hands slide your jacket off your arms, hanging it up in the closet for you. keith stood up from the couch and walked over to greet the two of you as you dusted a few snowflakes out of matt’s hair. keith embraced his eldest son in a hug, which matthew happily returned, before he gave you one as well.

“we almost thought you two weren’t coming. did matthew forget how to drive in snow?” keith asked, causing you and taryn to laugh, and matthew to roll his eyes.

“i haven’t been here 2 minutes and that’s two florida jokes,” he raised his hands in disbelief.

“i didn’t hear dad say that word, did you?” taryn asked you, and you shook your head, and matthew narrowed his eyes at you playfully.

“why is avery one ganging up on me?” he asked, and you heard the thump of footsteps coming down the stairs behind him, as brady and his wife emma appeared.

“that’s what happens when you show up late, buddy,” the younger tkachuk brother teased, and matthew grabbed him in a headlock in response, but it quickly turned into a friendly hug.

“y/n got here at the same time as me,” matt argued, and you raised your hands in mock surrender, as chantal walked into the living room to see what all the commotion was.

“we don’t pick on our guests, that’s the rule. it’s so nice to see you!” she smiled, and gave you a warm hug.

“mom!” matt protested, and she walked over to hug him too.

“oh, relax. come here,” she pulled him into her arms.

taryn brought you into the kitchen, and after each of you washed your hands, she helped you take the cookies out of the tin and put them out into a festive plate.

“have you been home from school very long?” you asked, and taryn shook her head.

“just a few days. how was the drive from the airport?” she asked.

“it was pretty good,” you said. there wasn’t too much snow this year so driving conditions were good. “my driver wasn’t great, but he was cheap so i can’t complain-“ you teased as matthew walked into the kitchen and within earshot.

“i heard that,” he smiled.

“good,” you smiled back, scrunching your nose up as he stuck his tongue out at you.

“you two should take your bags upstairs to matthews room. there’s a little early christmas present for each of you up there,” chantal instructed, and you smiled, laughing as matthew stole a cookie off the plate on his way past. you followed after him, protesting as he grabbed both his bag and yours from by the front door, before heading up the stairs.

you knew this house like the back of your hand, and you smiled as the familiar scent of the tkachuk family home mixing with the smell of christmas cooking and baking filling your nose. you turned the corner and saw matt already sitting in his bed, your bags placed on the floor neatly as he read the tags on two gift bags that sat next to him on the bed.

“this one is for you,” he said, holding out the green gift bag to you, keeping the red one for himself. you opened them together, each pulling out flannel pyjama pants, yours green with a plaid pattern and his red, just like the bags had been. it had become a tradition for chantal and keith to buy christmas pyjamas for each of their kids every year, and then for emma as well, and you felt honoured each time you were included.

“we get to match this year,” he smiled, and you set the pants on top of your bag to wear later, and looked around matthews room. while his decorating had changed since you were younger, there were things that remained the same; the small dent in the ceiling from when matthew and brady had decided to play hockey inside and sent a puck flying up into the plaster. there were pencil marks on the door frame with the three siblings initials next to them, even a few with yours.

you walked over to desk and admired the bulletin board with pictures push-pinned to it, most of them containing the two of you, ranging from when you were kids until last time you had visited his parents with him for his birthday a few years ago.

“is it weird being back here?” matthew asked, coming over to look at the pictures with you. his hand rested half on top of your as you leaned on the desk, and you smiled, shaking your head.

“no,” you answered. “it kinda takes you back in time though, doesn’t it? like nothings changed?” you asked, and he turned his head to look at you.

“yeah. i feel like i’m a kid again whenever i’m here with everyone.”

“thank you for inviting me,” you leaned against his shoulder, and you felt him rest his head on yours.

“of course. it wouldn’t be the same without you here,” he replied, and you hummed contently in response.

“hey, dinners almost ready,” you heard taryn’s voice from the doorway, neither of you having noticed her come up the stairs to find you. you turned towards her, a smile on her face as she looked at you and matthew standing together. it had come up a few times between her and matt’s family if the two of you were ever going to realize you were in love with eachother, and as the years went by, taryn was convinced the two of you would never figure it out.

“okay, we’ll be right there,” matthews arm had snaked around your waist at some point, and he pushed you towards the door after taryn, following his younger sister downstairs to eat.

-🧣🧦🌲❄️-

after dinner, keith and chantal watched as ‘the kids’, meaning the three tkachuk siblings along with you and emma, decorated the tree. the lights had already been strung a few weeks before, but it was a family tradition to hang the ornaments on christmas eve. chantel had requested everyone get changed into their pyjamas for pictures, and you noticed that the pattern on brady and emma’s matched, as well as hers and keith’s having a matching design. still, neither you or your best friend figured out that they were in fact meant to be couples pyjamas.

“this one’s yours, brady,” matthew said, handing his brother an ornament with his name on it.

“what movie are we thinking this year?” keith asked from his recliner, holding a few dvds in his hand. “home alone, the grinch, elf…”

“i like home alone,” emma offered, and brady and taryn agreed.

“any of those are fine with me,” you smiled, choosing an ornament and hanging it on the tree.

“sweetheart, why don’t you put the star on the tree this year,” chantal suggested, passing you the tree topper. “you’re the guest after all.”

“are you sure?” you asked, and she nodded with a warm smile. carefully, you stepped up onto the small wooden stool next to the tree so you could reach the top, and you were relieved to feel matthews hands on your waist, gently steadying you so you wouldn’t fall. keith looked at chantal with a knowing glance, watching matt take your hand to help you down from the stool after you had successfully placed the star on top of the tree.

“okay, i want a picture of all you kids by the tree, while it’s still snowing outside. it will look really pretty in the window behind everyone,” chantal said, getting her phone camera ready.

taryn stood in the middle, while brady had one arm over her shoulder and the other arm holding emma close to his side. matt stood behind you with his arms hugging you and his chin on your shoulder as you all smiled for the photo. you and emma made the siblings and their parents take a photo together as well, before taryn put the movie in, home alone winning the vote. keith was sat in his recliner, while taryn and chantal sat on the loveseat. emma and brady sat on one end of the large couch while you sat in the middle of it and matthew leaned against the armrest at the other end.

maybe it was the flight from florida, or the spiked eggnog you’d had after dinner, but you began to feel sleepy about an hour in to the movie, and tried not to make it too obvious that you were yawning as not to be rude. matthew still noticed however, and he gently placed a blanket over your legs, stealing some of it for himself as you curled up under the warm material. while you appreciated the gesture, the added warmth only made you more tired, and you soon drifted off, matthew catching your head just in time as it fell to the side. he rested it safely in his shoulder, and smiled down at you as you snuggled into him.

emma elbowed brady in the side gently, pointing at the two of you, completely in your own little world. chantal glanced over, her eyes meeting emma’s with a quiet laugh before she watched her eldest son place a gentle kiss on the top of your head, oblivious to the two women watching him. the movie ended with you still fast asleep, and as it neared midnight, everyone said goodnight and went off to bed, leaving you and matthew alone on the couch.

“hey, sleepyhead. time to get up,” he shook you gently, and you mumbled incoherently in protest, your fingers digging into the material of his hoodie as you snuggled impossibly closer. “unless you want to sleep down here, but i warn you - dad wakes up at like 6 am,” he laughed, and the sound pulled you out of your slumber.

“why didn’t you wake me up sooner? i feel bad for falling asleep.”

“don’t feel bad,” he laughed again. “you could probably set the house on fire and my family would forgive you, they love you so much. but maybe don’t- i kinda like it here,” he teased.

“i promise not to set the house on fire,” you mocked him playfully, and his hands tickled your ribs, causing you to fall backwards onto the couch with him on top of you. “please, i’m sorry, please stop-“ you pleased through tears of laughter.

“fine, but only because it’s christmas and you asked nicely. lets go up to bed, mom will want us up early to open presents,” he surrendered, getting up off the couch and extending a hand to help you up.

matthew didn’t let go of your hand as you both walked into his room, only letting go of it to go into the attached bathroom to brush his teeth. you did the same after him, walking out to see him already under the blankets.

“come here,” he held his arms open for you to crawl into, his hoodie discarded in a pile on the floor, leaving him in just the flannel pyjama pants. it wasn’t an unusual sleeping arrangement; having shared a bed with him many times when you were kids, and anytime you came to visit his family. you switched off the bathroom light and laid down, curling up next to him as his arms pulled you close, tucking you securely under his chin. the soft facial hair on his chin tickled your forehead as you wrapped your arms around him, his body invitingly warm as you felt yourself getting sleepy again.

matt squinted his eyes, looking at the clock on the nightstand that read 12:03am.

“merry christmas, bug,” he mumbled softly, and you hummed in response.

“merry christmas matty.”

-🧣🧦🌲❄️-

you woke up to the sound of the alarm matthew had set on his phone going off at 8am, the time chantal had requested everyone be up for presents and then breakfast. you tried to get out of bed but matt refused to let go of you, his arms holding you tight as you tried to squirm out of his grip.

“come on, before brady eats all the cookies,” you argued, and that woke matt up, but he still grumbled and groaned as he finally let you of you and rolled out of bed. he pulled a t-shirt over his head, tossing you one from his dresser to throw over your tank-top. running a hand through his messy curls to tame them as best he could, and you rubbed your eyes as you followed him towards the hallway. you bumped into his muscular frame, not realizing he had stopped in the doorway, and you looked at him with confusion, realization flooding over you as he pointed upwards.

“oh-“ you breathed, looking at the small green bundle of mistletoe that had been hung from the doorframe while you were sleeping.

“that wasn’t there before, was it?” matt asked, looking down at you, and you shook your head, your eyes meeting his.

“why would someone hang it there?” you asked, and he laughed, finally getting it.

“i think maybe my family is trying to tell us something,” he said, reaching for your hand with his.

“matty-“ you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper as you looked at your lips, and then up to your eyes again.

“can i kiss you?” he whispered, stepping closer in the small doorway, leaving almost no space between your bodies. you mind was racing a mile a minute, unable to form words as you nodded, and he leaned forward, pressing his mouth against yours so softly, his lips only ghosting yours before he pulled back, waiting for a reaction.

“do that again,” you smiled, and his hands went to your hips this time to pull your body flush against his, as he kissed you again. his lips lingered on yours longer this time, and your hands rested against his broad chest as you kissed him back, never wanting to let go.

like all good things, the moment had to end, as you heard taryn call from downstairs.

“are you guys awake?”

“yeah, be right there,” matt called back, his eyes never leaving you as you stared up at him, everything making sense as you both put the pieces together.

“i love you, matthew.”

he smiled warmly, and kissed you once more, like he was making up for all the times he should have done it before.

“i love you.”

“i think we’re the last to know,” you admitted, looking down at the matching pyjamas, and up at the mistletoe, before looking back at him, a smile permanently plastered on his face.

“i think you’re right,” he laughed. “come on, before they send a search party.” he dragged you gently by your hand down the stairs, taking a seat on the couch and pulling you to sit in his lap.

taryn and chantal each looked at you with a raised eyebrow, and you had a sneaking suspicion they were behind the mistletoe. taryn watched matty place a kiss on your cheek, and she sent you a wink.

maybe it was the warmth from the fireplace, or matthews arms around your waist holding you close to him, but your heart felt warmer than you could ever remember. brady and emma began passing out the gifts, and you took one for matt from her hands.

“you go first,” he said, gesturing with a nod for you to set it on the coffee table. emma placed a present with your name on the tag in your hands, as matthew whispered in your ear.

“i already have everything i want.”

disclaimer: all screenshots, events, and/or interactions depicted in this are a work of fiction. i have no association with any parties mentioned

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senditcolton · 7 months

Text

If You Want It Done

summary: after a disappointing playoff loss, brady reappears on your doorstep eight months after he ended things. and he has nothing on his mind but taking out his frustrations by having you desperate and keening for him once again. however, you aren't about to submit without a fight.

song inspo: NFWB by Hozier & Rats by Motionless in White word count: 5.1k warnings: feminine reader. smut! hair pulling, fingering, unprotected penetration, spanking, slight choking, oral (m receiving), and - as always - a healthy amount of dirty talk. plus somewhat toxic and insanely cocky brady.

a/n: no tricks here. just a sweet treat in the form of long- awaited Brady Skjei smut. technically it's a continuation of this blurb, but i just combined the original and the addition into one fic for you all. enjoy and happy halloween.

Sadness. Humiliation. Shame.

Those should be the emotions running through Brady as the plane lands back in Carolina after Game 4 of the Eastern Conference Finals. Because he wasn’t back ready to fight for another win. He was here to pack his bags and go home.

The best team in the Metro. Swept. By a wild card team who barely made the playoffs.

It was a disaster, an embarrassment. And Brady should feel the heavy weight of that failure, even if he might only be responsible for one-nineteenth of the blame. Or, at least, he should feel the waves of sadness crashing over him about the way it ended, or the mere fact that it did end.

But he didn’t. Perhaps he had earlier, when that final buzzer sounded and the fans in South Florida cheered. But now, having sat with those feelings for the better part of 24 hours, he was no longer sad.

He was angry.

And so, when the wheels touched down in Raleigh and he collected his car, he didn’t drive home.

Instead, he drove to yours.

A tired sigh leaves you as you pull up to your quaint cottage-style home. A long work week was cause for an even longer relaxing weekend and you were ready to start that weekend by getting inside and having a long nap. Or a strong drink. Or perhaps both.

However, after hopping out of your car and wandering up the small path that leads to your front door, your plans placed on a momentary hold when you see someone leaning against your siding, their baseball cap pulled low.

“I’m not interested in whatever you’re selling,” you call out, ready for this stranger to flash you an award-winning smile and tell you all about how their company could save you money on roofing repairs after last week’s storm.

But when their head lifts, you stop in your tracks as you recognize the face staring back at you.

Hell, you used to wake up to it every morning for eight months. Until he ended things.

“Brady.”

His name falls from your mouth in complete practiced apathy. You didn’t need him to know how much time you spent crying over him in the last month. You especially didn’t need him to know how your heart still skipped a beat when his eyes connected to yours.

“Did you see the game?” he asks.

“I heard.”

“And?”

“And what? Do you want to cry for you?”

There’s a humorless chuckle that comes from Brady as his head falls before he takes a step towards you.

“You always knew how to make me feel better,” he says, the sarcasm lacing his voice. And when you hear it, that dry scathing tone, you realize that you didn’t recognize the man in front of you.

Brady was always soft, gentle, welcoming. It made the dichotomy between you even more obvious; you all sharp edges and harsh words and burning fire. It was part of the reason the two of you broke up.

But this Brady… there was something different. Something dangerous. it intrigued you. But not enough for you to give in.

“I’m not going to coddle you, Brady. You should know that by now.”

“I don’t want your sympathy.”

“What do you want then?” you ask, finally taking a few steps forward, closing the gap between you and your front door. “You want my pity? You want me to say ‘poor you, poor Brady’?”

It’s your turn to let a scoff fall from your lips as you reach into your bag for your keys, Brady now behind you.

“If you wanted someone to feel sorry for you, you came to the wrong fucking house,” you explain, unlocking the door.

Before you can even reach the handle, you feel Brady step forward, his hands falling on your hips as his body crowds you into the smooth wood. You attempt to take a deep breath to calm your heart but it doesn’t help because when you breathe in, your senses are filled with the smell of his cologne. A smell so familiar. One you missed.

Brady moves closer, his body almost pinning you to the door and you can’t stop your knees from trembling as you feel the heat of him behind you.

“I came here because I missed you,” he whispers into your ear.

“And it took you getting your ass kicked to realize that?” you shoot back. Although, the waver in your voice betrays you, revealing how much your body was responding to him; his touch, his words, his warmth. Brady just lets his previous sentence continue, as if he didn’t even hear you.

“And because I know you missed me just as much.”

You couldn’t let him do this – let him come crawling back to you when he was broken or bored. You no longer belonged to him. It was a recipe for disaster.

“I think you’ve forgotten that I’m not one of those girls that would fall on their knees for you.”

“You seemed to enjoy being on your knees for me when we were together.”

“And we’re not together anymore. So, find someone else to fuck your frustrations out on.”

“Is that what you did?”

“None of your business.”

You feel his grip on your hips tighten and you barely have time to react as he effortlessly spins your body until your back is pressed against the wood of the door, your eyes now looking up at him.

“You’re lying.”

Brady almost spits out the words, as if even the barest suggestion that what you said was true was poison to him. Your eyes follow the movement in his temple, the clenching of his jaw, the storm in his eyes. This wasn’t the side of Brady that you knew.

But it was a side that you were always curious to discover. Throughout those eight months, you wanted to know if Brady had that same fire hiding within him – a passion and intensity that could match yours. And now, you could finally see it peeking through.

You wanted it to come out completely.

“And you can tell?” you ask, wielding your words with edge and precision. “Does that make you feel worse? If I told you about all the other men that ended up in my bed?”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“I wouldn’t? Are you sure? You knew what you giving up when you left. Can’t blame me for moving on.”

“You wouldn’t,” Brady repeats, one hand falling away and you barely have time to comprehend where it had gone when you feel the steady weight of the door fall away from you.

Your body lurches back, the momentum pulling you until it is abruptly stopped by Brady’s strong arms, pulling you close and lifting you over the threshold. Your feet find the hardwood of your floors before Brady is spinning you again and you find yourself pressed against the door once more, this time inside your house instead of without.

“You wouldn’t,” he reiterates, “because no one could make you feel as good as I did.”

You hear the deadbolt click, the sound causing the heat pool in your stomach. Brady’s hand moves back to your hip, pulling you close again as he leans in until your lips are barely touching. It’s intoxicating, having him this close to you once again. You are about to surge forward, connect your lips to his, let your fire burn with his. Until Brady speaks again.

“No one could make you feel as good as I’m about to.”

That statement pulls all rationality from you and you don’t hesitate to close the gap between you, crashing your lips onto his. Brady returns the kiss with as much intensity, his hands gripping you tighter while yours move to trace over his arms, his broad shoulders before tangling into that salt-and-pepper hair. The kiss is frantic, all teeth and tongues and it takes a moment before Brady finally pulls away, connecting those brown eyes to your own

“You’re mine,” he whispers. “You always will be.”

The words cut right through you; as a threat or a promise, you weren’t really sure. But the instant that Brady crashes his lips back into yours, you find that you don’t care.

God, you missed this. You would be lying if you didn’t spend many restless nights reminiscing on how his hands felt on your body. How his lips felt on your skin.

But you wouldn’t tell him that. The words would never leave your mouth, not while Brady is standing in front of you. You wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. At least, not yet.

Instead, you get lost in Brady’s kisses, your hands coming to tangle deeper in his hair, pulling him closer to you as your hips roll up to meet his. You think you can hear a dark chuckle rumble from Brady and vibrate directly into your body, sending sparks of electricity flowing through you. His hands roam across your body, up from your hips to the soft material of your blouse before landing on your breasts, giving them a squeeze, causing your head to fall back.

“Missed these perfect tits,” he mumbles, his movements against your chest continuing in response to the soft moan falling from your mouth. Your moan turns into a sharp gasp as Brady grips the center of your shirt and tears it open. The sound of the buttons scattering across the hardwood floor floods your ears and it inexplicably turns you on even more.

If this was any other man, you would be pissed off at him for ruining your one of your favorite shirts. But this was Brady. A new Brady.

In those eight months you were with him, he was nothing but a gentleman, both outside and inside the bedroom. And he was more than satisfactory. But you knew there had to be something underneath all that charm. An untamed animal just waiting to be unchained.

And if this was the key to its cage, you weren’t about to stop everything to cry over a few buttons. But that didn’t mean you weren’t going to complain at all.

“You’re buying me a new shirt,” you mutter against Brady’s lips. Brady swiftly removes his mouth from yours as he looks down at your newly exposed bra.

“Gonna buy you something new to wear under it,” comes his response as his thumbs trace over the edge of the plain nude material and this time, you can stop your eyes from rolling in annoyance.

“Do you really think I wear lingerie to work?” you quip, staring up at him.

You can see his eyes harden and it is in that moment that you realize he was enjoying this. The chase, the tease, the dare, the push and pull between the two of you.

“If you don’t like it,” you continue, your voice taking on a sultry tone as you continue to meet his dark brown eyes, “then take it off.”

The quick sparkle that appears in his brown eyes makes you think that he has taken the bait, that you might have gained some control over the situation at hand – a situation that you were wholly unprepared for but welcomed none the less. And when Brady leans back in to lock you lips together once again, his hands wandering around your ribcage towards your back, the confidence grows.

However, it takes a sharp plummet when you feel his hands drop from your frame. If Brady had given you a split second longer, you would have broken the kiss to question or quip him again. But you have barely any time to miss the sensation of his hands on your skin before you feel them grip the back of your thighs as Brady uses his athletic strength to effortlessly lift you off the floor.

You gasp, a gasp that Brady gladly swallows before he spins, tearing his lips away from yours to look around your house. There is a part of you that wants to tell him nothing has changed from the last time he was there – the furniture is the same, your bedroom is still two doors down on the left – but your lips have already busied themselves marking the smooth skin on his neck.

There was also a power in your decisions; forcing him to find his way through your space all while doing your best to distract him. And it seems to be working as you feel Brady’s pulse shudder underneath your mouth.

You feel him take a lurching turn right and a slight flash of confusion runs through you until you feel his body lowering. The soft material of your couch hits your knees and the skirt you had on flows out around you as you now straddle Brady.

“Forgot where the bedroom was?” you chirp into his neck, feeling his desperate hands return to your torso as he removes the tattered remains of your blouse from your waistband.

It seems that it takes a minute for your words to register but when they do, Brady’s hand lifts to tangle in your hair. Another gasp escapes from your chest as his fingers tighten before pulling your head away from his neck. He quickly reverses the roles, his own lips moving to your newly exposed throat, your breath transforming from gasps to soft sighs as his mouth works against your skin.

“Who says I’m not going to take you there after I’m done here?”

“Who says I would let you back into my bed anyway?” you retort to keep some semblance of control.

Your pathetic attempt is clearly read by Brady, who makes you falter once again as the hand not tangled in your hair effortlessly unclasps your bra. His lips depart from your neck as he helps slide the material down your arms, throwing it carelessly somewhere in the room. You both hate and love the smirk that appears on his face as he takes in your heaving chest, your pebbled nipples. His dark eyes dart back up to you briefly before he is tugging you into him for another animalistic kiss.

“Seems that you like it so far,” he whispers into your open mouth before he pulls away again, lifting your body upright and pulling you closer. “I’ll take my chances.”

You wish that you could say something back, something to knock his arrogant confidence down a peg but your mind goes blank as his lips move to your collarbone, leaving faint hickeys against the taut skin before moving down to your chest. His lips close around one of your nipples, tongue moving to tease the sensitive peak as his hands rest on your ribcage, his thumbs running across the delicate skin on the underside of your breasts. Your hands fly to the back of his head, keeping him close and you can feel his lips curl against your skin. The action both turns you on and pisses you off, a combination that you weren’t sure could even work until now.

You fly into action, hands moving down to grip the fabric stretched across his broad shoulders, tugging at the material and pulling it upward before he finally breaks away to help you remove the shirt entirely, tossing it away to join your clothes on the living room floor.

His lips return to your chest, moving to leave no skin unmarred with his love bites as your hands drop to his shoulders, fingers digging into the muscle in silent encouragement. Brady’s hands lower before coming to grip your ass and you gasp as he pulls you forward, the action causing your hips to roll. You both let out moans at the sensation of you grinding against him and it turns you on more to feel his erection against your core.

“And here I thought I was the masochist,” you joke, moving your hips of your own volition, pressing deeper into him. The grunt that your actions pull from his chest has you grinning. “Who’d know you get this hard from getting your ass kicked?”

You must’ve struck a nerve, prodded at the memory he came here to forget, because the only thing you hear in response is what could best be described as a growl before he lifts you off of his lap enough to slip out from underneath you. Your brain recognizes the weight of his body disappearing from the couch and you attempt to turn, just to keep your eyes locked on him but Brady doesn’t give you a chance.

His large hand finds the space between your shoulder blades and pushes you forward, your torso falling until your chest meets the back cushions. You can’t stop the gasp that falls, your arms lifting over the edge of the couch as your back arches, your hips pressing back towards Brady now looming behind you.

A dark chuckle echoes throughout the room in response to your actions as he pulls the material of your skirt over your hips, exposing more of your body to him. He doesn’t waste any time, doesn’t even bother removing your underwear, instead choosing to move it to the side before he slips two fingers into your already soaked core.

You let out a moan, your head falling forward as Brady’s hand moves, winding you up and my God, you would be lying if you said you didn’t miss the feeling. His thumb quickly finds your clit, pressing against the bundle of nerves and you can’t stop the way your body responds to his movements.

“That’s what I thought,” he laughs. “You have no right to that attitude when you’re this fucking desperate for me.”

He emphasizes his words with a curl of his fingers, the tips grazing your g-spot and the combined sensation of his hands skillfully moving against you almost has you falling over the edge. Brady doesn’t give you your satisfaction that easily though as he removes his fingers from your core. You whimper at the loss, listening intently to Brady’s movements behind you, impatient to feel him once more.

Brady doesn’t leave you wanting for long as you hear the rustle of his pants hitting the floor and before you can blink, you feel his hands practically tear your panties down your legs before he enters you in one swift, harsh motion.

The moans that you both let out are delicious and desperate. You whine as you move your hips back, pushing him impossibly deeper. Brady groans, his hands quickly finding purchase on your hips, gripping you tight before he begins to move.

“Oh god,” you moan out as Brady fucks into you with quick hard thrusts, showing no mercy, your ass rippling every time it meets his hips. You are grateful for the couch cushions in front of you, helping to support your upper body as your fingers dig into the fabric so deeply that an irrational part of you worries you might tear it.

“Not God, sweetheart. Just me,” Brady replies, his movements barely faltering. “Come on, say my name.”

You wish you could tell him to fuck off, make a quip about his cocky attitude but your mouth doesn’t seem able to form the words or any words for that matter. The only thing you want is for him to continue. A sharp smack against your ass jolts your body forward and your head whips around in surprise, eyes connecting to Brady.

“Say. My. Name,” he repeats, now more command than anything else, every word punctuated by another spank and you are helpless to comply.

“Brady,” you whine, your desperation painted on every letter, your eyes staying locked on him, drinking in his reaction. He groans, his teeth coming to bite his lower lip, his gaze dropping from your face to connect to where his cock disappears into your pussy.

“Fuck, that’s it, sweetheart.”

His quiet encouragement is all you need to continue moaning his name over and over. One of his hands falls from your hips to join yours in gripping the back of the couch, his body now completely covering yours, the new leverage only increasing the strength in which Brady thrusts into you. Your head falls to rest against the back cushion, the sounds of your staccato whimpers and breathy curses filling the living room along with the continuous depraved slapping of skin against skin.

You whine as you feel his hand disappear from your hip and slowly trace up your body, the softness of his touch a sharp contrast. The gentleness doesn’t last long and your whine turns into a gasp as Brady’s large hand wraps around your throat, pulling your head upwards.

“Keep saying my name,” he says, his hot breath fanning across the shell of your ear. “Let everyone know who’s making you feel this good.”

“You are, Brady.”

“Yeah? Can anyone else fuck you like I can?”

“No. Only you.”

“That’s right. Only me,” he growls in satisfaction, emphasizing his words with his rhythm.

“Fuck, Brady, please,” you plead, your voice strained from how much focus it took to pry the words from your mouth. “I’m close.”

“Well then, come on sweetheart. Touch yourself. Remind me how good it feels when you cum on my cock.”

The speed in which your hand falls is reckless, frantic to get that additional pressure that you were craving. As soon as your fingers press against your clit, your head falls back against Brady’s shoulder in relief. His praise is muffled against your skin as he peppers your shoulder with kisses, only interrupted by quiet curses as he feels your core flutter.

It is hot, so unbelievably hot – how he’s fucking you, how he’s holding you – that it doesn’t take long for you to finally fall over the precipice, your own hand faltering against you as your orgasm rocks through your body. A groan falls from Brady as he feels you clench around him; a groan that he muffles by sinking his teeth into the flesh of your shoulder, the additional sensation causing you to moan louder, hips rocking back against him as his motions halt.

The haze that pricked at the corner of your eyes slowly dissipates and you can feel Brady’s hand fall from your neck. The cool air cascades over your back as Brady lifts himself away from you causing goosebumps to appear. A small whimper escapes when you feel him remove himself from your core and steps away. The submissive part of your mind, still in control, panics in fear that he might leave. But the concern is short lived as Brady sits down next to you, pulling you back into his lap.

He wastes no time capturing you in another kiss, stealing any remaining breath from your lungs. Brady attempts to break the kiss but you don’t let him, hands lifting to cup his jaw and pulling him deeper into the kiss. He doesn’t resist and allows you to continue to kiss him, his own arms wrapping around your body.

Eventually your hands move, trailing down his throat, dancing over his chest and you smile against his lips as you feel his abs tighten in response to your fingers sinking lower until they finally reach the desired destination.

You gently take his still hard length in your hand and stroke him a few times, which was easy to do with your prior release clinging to the silky-smooth skin. You grin as you feel the vibrations of Brady’s soft moan in response to your ministrations. The cloud of your orgasm had lifted and, in its absence, your own confidence returned.

“Want me to take care of that for you?” you question, only moving far enough away to ask, your lips brushing against his occasionally. Brady doesn’t respond; you knew he wouldn’t. He had worked too hard to give up the dominance he held over you so easily. But you weren’t deterred.

You kiss him deeply one more time before your lips follow the path your hands previously traced: down his throat, over his collarbones, across his chest. An occasional moan and curse fall from Brady as you continue your descent and you grin, knowing that his resolve was slowly cracking. Your body moves, shuffling from being perched on top of his lap to kneel on the plush carpet between his thighs. Brady’s eyes are needy when your own eyes dart up to meet his stare. Your hand strokes him again but you make no attempt to put your mouth on him, the dare hanging clearly in the air.

“Baby, please,” Brady finally speaks, his hips punching upwards.

“Who’s fucking desperate now?” you quip, unable to contain your excitement at regaining the upper hand. Your jaw drops open in surprise as Brady’s hand darts out, grabbing your neck once more, his eyes growing dark.

“You want to repeat that sweetheart?” he asks, that dominant energy rolling off him again. Except this time, it doesn’t make you back down. Instead, it just spurs you on, that heat and elation as it returns – the battle, the chase. Your dropped jaw just morphs into a wicked grin and you are ecstatic to see a similar smirk twist onto Brady’s lips; a quiet confirmation that he was still enjoying the newfound push and pull between you two.

“Come on Brady. Admit it. You are just as desperate for me as I am for you,” you explain, your voice dipping again into your lower sultry timbre. “Tell me, do any of those other girls have a mouth like mine?”

You flatten your tongue against his shaft and lick a bold stripe up his length before moving your lips to leave a lingering teasing kiss on the head. Brady groans, his head falling back as his hand moves from your neck to tangle in your hair, pulling you closer in an attempt for you to fully wrap your lips around him.

“No one can fuck me like you can?” you continue, hand wrapping around his cock. “Well, you’ll never find someone who can give better head than I can.”

You don’t give him any chance to respond as you surge forward, finally taking him into your wet mouth. Your tongue traces every vein that you could feel as your hand moves against the rest of him. Brady’s moans sounding from above fuel you and you continue to work your sinful magic against his skin.

It may have been months since you two were in this particular position but you feel like a part of you will remember everything about Brady, including all the spots that make him groan and twitch and throb. Your lips move to suck on the tip, teasing the area where the head meets the shaft with your tongue.

“Fuck,” Brady curses, his hips jumping causing his cock to thrust into your mouth. You gag a little before withdrawing – not completely but only enough to catch your breath. Your eyes dart to his and find that he is already staring at you, his salt-and-pepper hair falling over his forehead. The moan you release at the sight vibrates around Brady causing an identical moan to escape him. You inhale deeply before lowering your head, relaxing your throat until the entirety of his cock is nestled in your mouth.

“Goddamn, you’re so fucking good at that,” he groans, his fingers twisting in your hair. You move, shallowly bobbing your head as you feel him pulse against your tongue, a tell-tale sign he was getting close. The assumption was only confirmed by the next word Brady spoke. “Fuck, baby, gonna cum.”

You pull your mouth from him, replacing it quickly with your hand and continuing the pace you had set.

“I won’t waste a drop,” you say, keeping your eyes locked to his as you wrap your lips around him once again, your hands moving to the side his thighs and pressing your fingertips up into them. Brady understands your silent request, hand once again tightening in your hair as he moves his hips upward, taking control.

“Yeah? You going to swallow it all like a good girl?”

You nod your head, keeping your mouth open and accepting everything he gives, moaning against his skin as he increases his pace. It’s only a few more moments before Brady throws his head back against the couch cushions, a long groan emulating from his chest as his own orgasm hits. You feel his cum hit the back of your throat and you greedily pull him deeper, determined to keep your word.

You let Brady collect himself and take a few deep breaths before you slowly raise your head, sliding off of his cock. You wait until his eyes connect to yours before you swallow, releasing a satisfied exhale afterwards. You can’t help but make a show of it, licking your lips before opening your mouth to show him that you indeed didn’t let anything go to waste.

Brady grins, a smile which you quickly mirror before his hands are on your body, hauling you off the floor and back into his lap. Your lips connect and you sigh, savoring the euphoric glow that surrounded the two of you. The two of you continue to make out for a few minutes, relaxing before you pull away, looking down at Brady.

“D’you feel better?” you joke, the remembrance of why he came to your house in the first place – and what it all meant now – nagging in the back of your mind. You aren’t sure if you can see sadness lingering on the corners of Brady’s smile as his hand runs soothing circles across your spine.

“A little.”

“Need anything else?”

“Maybe a shower,” he replies, looking up at you with those brown eyes that always made you weak. A sparkle that spells nothing but trouble for you flashes in his irises as his smile turns into a wicked smirk. “And perhaps a round two, starting with my head buried between your thighs.”

“Demanding, aren’t you?” you breathlessly chuckle, your head shaking in playful disbelief as your tear your gaze from his.

“I just know what I want.”

“Which is?”

“You.”

His quiet declaration has your head turning back to him, connecting your eyes once again. The emotions displayed in his own stare are unfathomable and you know that this isn’t the place to attempt to decipher them. You don’t have time to unwind and unravel the mess that defined you and Brady’s connection: your prior relationship, the subsequent break-up, and everything that happened today.

So, instead, you gently climb from Brady’s lap, standing upright before stretching out your hand towards him. He accepts your offer and you help lift him off the sofa before dragging him down the hallway to the second door on the left, back into your bed.

Like he always belonged there.

Like he never left.

tagging the skjei-sy sluts (affectionate) who asked for a continuation + a few others I think would appreciate this: @smileysvech @pyotrkochetkov @cellythefloshie @comphy-and-cozy @laurenairay

#nicole writes #brady skjei fic #brady skjei imagine #brady skjei smut #carolina hurricanes fic #carolina hurricanes imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine

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