babymagiclotion - Tumblr blog

babymagiclotion · 8 months

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bad at love

Breaking your brother's only unspoken rule—don't date his teammates—has never been an issue in your adult life. Until now.

pairing: jt compher x reader

warnings: angstttt, smut, a minor car accident with mentions of injury (broken bone/concussion), and the usual (alcohol, swearing, etc. etc.)

word count: 4.9k

a/n: hiiiiii @comphy-and-cozy i'm your super secret fic exchange writer! sorry this is a day late and a dollar short. one of these days @wyattjohnston is going to perma-ban me from participating in exchanges. until that date she remains my ever loyal editor. mad thanks to @thomasschabot for reading it first and telling me they loved it even though they're contractually obligated to do so and for physically being there when the fic idea popped into my head <3

It’s not the first time you’ve shown up at your big brother’s house with a face full of tears and a couple bags full of all your worldly possessions. Despite your best efforts and well intentions—if you had to guess—it likely won’t be the last.

It is the first time you’ve done so with him being a married man, and so it’s your sister-in-law whose comfort you really seek and are expecting to pop up behind the slowly opening door in front of you.

Unfortunately for you, and for the poor soul you really don’t know that well, it’s not Kenzy who opens the door but the over-the-summer pick-up from Colorado.

If it had been any of the other, more tenured of your brother's teammates, you might have been waved inside with nothing more than a sympathetic glance and an unspoken ‘again?’.

Instead, JT’s look of utter confusion has quickly evolved into something more akin to a quiet rage, and you’re reminded that he is a big brother himself. The look is familiar to you, having inspired a similar one on Dylan’s face more times than you can count.

It’s been a really fucking long day, and you don’t have the emotional bandwidth to have any sort of reckoning with some guy you barely know in your brothers drive way.

JT’s in the middle of some sort of sentence that begins and also ends with “What—” as you none too gently push past him in order to finally gain entry to the house.

The mix of sympathy and feigned disinterest that greets you on the faces of your brothers teammates who occupy the large sitting room has your stomach rolling uncomfortably. It seemed like the entirety of the Detroit Red Wings were always around to witness your spectacular failures. What must they think, watching you disappear with the next great love of your life, only to reappear once again with bags packed in a manner of months?

You could hazard a guess at what your brother thinks, the variants of ‘I told you so’ that live and die on his tongue without ever leaving his lips. He wraps you up in an infamous Larkin hug that serves to fix a tiny crack of your broken heart, and so you revel in it like you used to revel in the comfort when the pain you felt was because of falling off the monkey bars when you were a kid.

But, he has a house full of hockey players to entertain and Kenzy has a glass of wine with your name on it. Dylan returns to the living room and you slide out to the back porch with your sister-in-law, briefly catching the eye of the one who let you in. You don’t see the telltale signs of judgment reflecting back at you, but maybe something else entirely.

Outside you pour your soul alongside the Malbec. Curled up on the wicker chair under a blanket you tell Kenzy about Owen and the promises he failed to keep. She oohs and ahs at the appropriate times, commiserating without belittling you.

By the end of the night your heart—and the bottle of wine—feels a little lighter. There’s a little less shame as you make yourself at home in the spare bedroom that might as well permanently be yours.

Owen visits you in your sleep, breaking your heart again and again until his face morphs into one with a ginger beard and kind eyes.

Those kind eyes become a fixture in your post breakup life. If he’s not hanging around your brother's house, he’s bumping into you at the local coffee shop you frequent when you’re in Detroit. If he’s at neither, he’s obviously at the games you attend in support of Dylan alongside Kenzy.

At Dylan’s, you barely speak to his teammates and friends beyond simple pleasantries. At your coffee shop, it starts at small talk but grows to be considerable conversations that dip just below surface level.

It’s at Little Caesars Arena where he really endears himself to you though. Warm ups are arguably your favorite part of the games you attend. You like to look out at the signs, from the heartwarming to the obscene—picking out your favorites and giggling about the latter with your sister in law.

Dylan’s always been really good about tossing kids pucks, and his big bleeding heart only grew larger when he got the red C strapped to his chest. Some of the other guys, even some of the so-called vets are less good about it.

JT’s just like Dylan, maybe even a little kinder hearted. He takes the time to read the signs that are meant for him, never turns down a trade for a puck and even gives a stick to a kid whose sign says he came all the way from Denver to watch him, his favorite player, play in Detroit.

It warms your heart.

So much so you don’t even notice you’re staring until Dylan’s slamming himself into the boards in front of you to startle his wife. She rolls her eyes and calls him a name not worth repeating while you try to pretend like you weren’t just fixated on his teammate.

The thing is Dylan has never outright said his teammates are off limits. Not since you were a teenager making eyes at his USNTDP teammates anyway.

The memory keeps you from looking JT’s way the rest of the warmups, but once the puck drops your eyes can’t help but wander.

Wandering appears to be your specialty, considering you’ve gotten yourself lost in the underbelly of the arena.

Your first mistake was leaving Ken’s side—she was your ferryman, guiding you down the River Styx, and without her, you were lost in Hell.

Were you overdramatic? Maybe. Were you lost with no hope of getting out? Still overdramatic, but definitely a possibility.

The walls begin to look the same, and you’re half worried you’ve accidentally fallen into a back room or something stupid when you stumble upon the one who caught your eye earlier.

‘Stumble upon’ is a gracious way of saying you absolutely smack into him and fall on your ass.

He hauls you up effortlessly with one hand and your skin burns beneath his grasp.

“What are you doing?” you both say in near unison before he laughs.

“I was getting my shoulder checked out, what are you doing all the way over here? Are you lost?”

Regardless of what he was doing, JT obviously has more of a reason to be found wandering the halls of the arena. And he’s right, you’re most definitely lost but you play it off like he’s crazy.

“Me? Lost? No, I know exactly where we are,” you bluff.

JT’s eyebrows raise and he nods slowly. “Which is…?”

Well, he’s called your bluff but he also gave you a key context clue. “Near the athletic trainer, obviously.”

He laughs again and it has your cheeks feeling hot.

“Okay fine, maybe I’m a little bit lost and maybe I was contemplating how I’d be trapped down here forever before you knocked me over.”

“I’m sorry, but you ran into me.” You roll your eyes and begin to argue, but he doesn’t let that happen. “Doesn’t matter, I can help you find your way out.”

You swoon dramatically, only half joking as you reply “My hero.”

Now that you’re no longer focused on navigating your way out of Pan’s Labyrinth, you’re free to focus on your close proximity to JT. Based on the way his eyes dart between meeting your own and staring at your lips, you assume he’s just as aware.

Is this not what you’ve been wanting since you knocked on Dylan’s door? But that’s part of the problem, and you’re sure JT is thinking the same. Not only is your brother his teammate—and you’ve always been off limits to your brother's teammates to your chagrin growing up—but he’s JT’s captain, too. There’s a million ways this thing could go wrong and blow up in both of your faces.

You could get caught, and be forced to sit with Dyl’s disappointment. You could hurt the one person in your life who consistently showed up for you and loved you and cared for you.

Not to mention you could risk it all for nothing—could crash and burn spectacularly as you were wont to do. Could fuck it all up with not only your brother, but JT too and be left with nothing. It wouldn’t be the first time you’d gone behind your brother’s back, but you had a sneaking suspicion things would be worse than they were when you were 15 to his 16.

Ultimately you decide fuck it, because what’s life without a little risk?

Tentatively, you slide your hand over the rough beard covering his jaw. When he doesn’t flinch or move away from you, you lean in closer.

He’s not pulling away, but he’s also not moving closer, letting you make the first move.

It’s probably a terrible fucking idea, but you’ve never been accused of being someone who makes good decisions when it comes to romantic partners.

The first press of your lips to his is cautious, barely a brushing of your mouths, just to get a taste. Quickly you become a woman obsessed. Unable to get enough, the kisses turn frenetic, bordering on sloppy.

He reciprocates in kind, his mouth hot and heavy on yours while his hands grasp and pull and hold. His very essence consumes you, taking over all of your five senses and pulling noises from you that you didn’t know existed.

If your arm burned from his grasp earlier, your entire body has caught fire.

You’re unaware or probably more accurately uncaring of your public nature, despite your earlier hesitance. Now you just want more and more and more of JT, as much as he is willing to give and maybe even a little more.

He seems to be on the same page, entire body wrapping around you and pulling you deeper and deeper.

Unconsciously your hands begin to pull at the waistband of his pants and it’s then that the two of you finally separate.

You’re worried you’re going to find regret in his eyes and excuses on his tongue, but he’s just looking at you intently.

“Not like this,” he says. “Not here.”

“I don’t want to wait,” you protest, but he shushes you with his mouth.

“It’ll be worth the wait.”

And worth the wait it is.

It's sexy at first. Clandestine meetings in dark hallways, sneaking in and out of JT’s apartment that’s on the same floor as Jake Walman’s, covert texts and quiet phone calls where you get off on the sound of each other's voices.

It doesn’t take long for you to want more, though. To fantasize about not just what his calloused hands can do to your body, but what it would be like to hold one in your own while walking down the street. To show up at a home game and have everyone know you were there to support not only your brother, but JT too.

It’s a fantasy that is only stoked by the comfort you feel walking around JT’s apartment in just his t-shirt with his number on the shoulder. By nights spent together at his dinner table, on his couch, in his bed. By sweet texts and stupid memes and random photos of things that made him think of you.

You don’t dare speak your desires out loud though. For fear of JT not wanting the same thing or for fear that he would, you’re not quite sure.

It’s a tough situation to be in. One where you’re worried you're heading to a fork in the road that has JT on one side and your brother on the other.

You have no delusions about the two paths eventually forging back together again, know that you’ve come dangerously close to that intersection marked with a big fat caution sign.

Probably you should speak to JT, get on the same page about where you’ve been and where you’re going. Following that, assuming he secretly yearns for the same thing you do, you should probably then come clean to Dylan.

Probably you should do a lot of things, but unfortunately what is done in the dark always comes to the light and sometimes it happens quicker than you can make your mind up.

A road win presumably has JT in a good mood. He’s texted you letting you know he’ll be home before midnight, requesting your presence in his bed.

It’s an easy yes, considering you’re already in the aforementioned bed. It’s nice to get out of Dylan’s house, of the suffocating feeling that you’re intruding in someone else’s home, on someone else’s life.

There’s really nothing particularly sexy about the way he finds you, but his eyes darken upon finding you curled up in his bed just the same. You’re not attempting to recreate a sexy pose from a boudoir photo shoot, and one of JT’s shirts and a pair of boy shorts aren’t exactly fancy lingerie.

That doesn’t stop him from dropping his bag dramatically and stripping from his dress shirt and pants.

“Awfully presumptuous,” you say as if the very fact that you’re in his bed in not much more clothing than he is.

He shrugs, “Not presuming anything. I’m fine if you just want to sleep, but I’m sure as shit not going to sleep in those dress pants. Bad enough I had to sit through a plane ride like that.”

His tone is teasing, but the implication that he would be just as fine falling asleep beside you as anything else pretty well takes all the fight out of you.

“C’mere,” you say instead of a catchy comeback, lifting the covers and inviting him into his own bed.

He wastes no time sliding in beside you and curling up around your body. “Hi.”

You snort and hide your face in his neck. “Corny.”

“I’ll show you corny,” he says, but you shush him by pulling his face closer to yours until your lips brush.

“Thought I was presumptuous,” he says upon breaking the kiss.

You roll your eyes—“Shut up.”—and kiss him again.

He doesn’t manage to keep his mouth shut, but at least this time it’s to slip his tongue into your mouth.

The temperature of the room rapidly increases—between the weight of his body covering your own and your body’s reaction to his fervid kiss, you feel the need to lose at least one item of clothing.

“I need—“

Luckily he quickly understands what you’re trying to accomplish by pulling at the hem of your shirt, lifting off of you long enough to assist in removing it from your body.

He makes a noise of appreciation at the bare skin revealed to him before diving back into your lips, this time with one hand cupping your right breast.

Appreciative noises of your own build in your throat when that hand slides down your body to dip into your underwear. It’s teasing touches at first, until you reciprocate by cupping him through his boxer-briefs.

Finally you both shed that last remaining layer, uncaring of where they end up in the bedroom. There’s a brief pause while he rolls on a condom and then he’s entering your body like it was made for him and him alone.

There’s no rush about his pace, just gentle thrusts and soft moans and sweet praises.

Sex with JT is so good, better than with anyone else you’ve ever been with. He’s the very opposite of a lazy, selfish lover. It’s like your needs and your pleasure come first, and you certainly do too.

The positioning of your bodies is so intimate, bodies close, mouths slotted over each other with intermingling breaths.

You worry you’re getting too caught up in that intimacy, possibly running in a direction not quite warranted and so you seek to depersonalize it a touch.

“Let me,” you say softly while gently pressing a hand against his shoulder, indicating you want him to lay on his back. He moves willingly, even helping you climb atop him.

It feels just as good with you on top, and the bit of distance between your upper halves means you can breathe a bit better.

It’s easy to get lost in the feeling, to tilt your head back and focus on your movements and the feel of his bruising grip on your hips.

Feeling the pressure build in your stomach, you slide a hand down your abdomen to where your bodies meet while the other grasps your breast just for something to hold on to. The added friction to your clit is pulling you closer and closer as you move on top of him.

He’s staring up at you with lust filled eyes, mouth open in a mix of awe and pleasure. A look of almost disbelief on his face. His hands are still on your hips, now helping the movement of your body on his when your body lights up like the fourth of July with your orgasm.

It’s hard to keep moving while in the throes of pleasure, but it’s like JT can read your mind, gripping your hips and thrusting up into you until he finishes too.

Your whole body tingles as you collapse on top of him, relishing in the feel of his arms wrapping around your body. Leisurely you kiss for a minute, until your heart rate returns to normal and you feel like you’re not likely to fall over when going to the bathroom to clean up.

When you return, you’ve slipped on one of his shirts once again. There's a soft look on his face as you crawl into bed beside him. It only cracks when you quietly whisper, “should we order pizza?”

“I think you’re the girl of my dreams,” he laughs.

The room is quiet, filled with only the sounds of your breathing and occasional kissing as you wait for the delivery.

Finally the doorbell rings. “I got it,” you tell JT and pull on a pair of discarded sweatpants before pulling the drawstring so they don’t fall.

You don’t bother to check the peephole, certain it’s your food which turns out to be a giant mistake.

Not only is it not your pizza, it’s also the last person you want to catch you with sex hair in oversized clothing that obviously belongs to the guy you’ve just had sex with.

Dylan’s mouth has dropped so far down it would be comical if it wasn’t also horrifying.

“Dylan I–” you start to explain yourself but pause midway through. How could you even begin to explain?

“I can’t believe this.” He shakes his head, hands curling at his side. “Actually no, I can’t believe this from JT, I can definitely believe this from you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you snap.

Your brother laughs sardonically, “Well you’re not exactly known for making the right decisions when it comes to relationships.”

JT exits his room, no doubt lured by the loud voices and the lack of food. “Hey man, come on, let's talk about this like adults.”

“Like adults?” Dylan is incensed in a way you’ve never seen before. “Now you want to talk about things like adults? The time to talk was before you started sleeping with my sister behind my back.”

“I’m sorry you found out like this–” JT continues to try to defend himself, defend you while you stand there speechless.

Dylan interrupts, “Sorry I found out or sorry you got caught?”

JT goes to respond but Dylan cuts him off again. “I trusted you dude. I told you she was off limits, and not only did you ignore me, you went behind my back.” He then turns to you. “And you? My teammate? Seriously? You couldn’t have chosen literally any other douchebag to treat you wrong?”

That snaps you out of your stupor. “JT doesn’t treat me bad!”

A different kind of look crosses your older brother's face then. “Well when he does, don’t come running back to my house and crying to me.”

Dylan slams the door and you sit in the quiet of the room for a minute with your ears ringing.

The reality of the situation hits you.

“I can’t stay there, God not only am I a fuck up but I’m homeless too.”

“You can always stay here,” JT offers and it really bothers you that you can’t tell if he wants you to, or if he’s just offering because of his hand in the most recent blow up of your life.

“I’m pretty sure his baby sister shacking up with his teammate he doesn’t want her with isn’t exactly going to win me any favors with Dyl,” you reply.

“Well I’m pretty sure he’d rather you be here than living on the street.”

Ordinarily you think that would probably be true but the look on his face when you opened JT’s door is seared into your mind. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

In the end you do move your things into JT’s apartment. Kenzy is the accomplice to your crime, helping you pack your things while the team has practice, wrapping you in her arms and telling you that he just needs some time.

“He loves you,” she says.

You’re not so sure.

That’s probably overdramatic. You’re sure he loves you, and you sure hope he forgives you. You’re just worried that this time you’ve both done and said things you can’t take back and you’re not sure how things will move forward from here.

It’s not all bad though.

Living with JT is surprisingly easy, even right one might say. You fit directly into each other's lives like perfect puzzle pieces. His strict routines of practices and morning skates and games—both home and away—allow you the space to complete your own work on your own time. Cooking pregame meals together and curling up beside him when he takes his pregame naps quickly become some of your favorite activities.

You dance around the feelings talk, never quite broaching the subject. But it can’t feel this right if it’s all one sided, all in your head, right?

He’s even kind enough to let you drive his SUV even though the price tag makes you nervous every time you’re behind the wheel. You’re not a bad driver, as evidenced by the fact JT lets you drive the Audi, but you are possibly on this side of over cautious as a result of a bad car accident in high school.

Three home games after your fight with Dylan and approximately zero words or text messages exchanged between the two of you, you find yourself in the passenger seat.

“I could have taken the bus,” you protest weakly, almost knowing exactly what JT’s response will be.

“Over my dead body,” he laughs, eyes flickering over to you before focusing on the traffic in front of him. “Just pick me up after practice or text me if you’re still out and I’ll find a ride.”

“I’m not gonna leave you stranded at the arena, of course I’ll be there after you’re done.”

It’s oddly domestic, kissing JT across the console and then sliding into the driver’s seat that he vacates. You wait as he grabs his gear and walks away, you do really love watching him walk away.

The moment is cut short by catching a glimpse of your brother's vehicle. He’s not in it, obviously already inside the arena, but the sight of it makes your stomach clench all the same.

Thoughts of Dylan and his disappointment and worry that he’ll never forgive you flood your mind the entire drive. So much so that when the next light turns green, you let off the gas without realizing that there is a larger SUV running the red.

It all happens so fast. The screeching of tires, the crunching of metal, the pop of airbags going off and then a blinding pain in your wrist.

In the end, you’re pushed into the wrong lane of traffic, the other vehicle damn near in the passenger seat you occupied only fifteen minutes ago. There’s a distinct ringing in your ears and you offhandedly wonder if this is what it feels like to get boarded.

“Are you okay? I’m calling 911.” The words sound like they’re underwater, and it takes you several seconds to realize they’re being spoken to you. Turning your head to the side, you try to get the words out to say you’re fine, but you’re blocked by the airbag that has gone off near your head.

Emergency services come quickly, a perk of living in Detroit you suppose. Embarrassingly, it takes the jaws of life to peel off the driver's side door to get you out. A cop takes your statement and then you end up in the back of an ambulance. Despite your assurances that you’re fine, one raised eyebrow from the female paramedic and the idea that you’ve probably broken your wrist has you agreeing to the ER visit.

It’s then that someone asks you if there’s anyone you want to call. Heartbreakingly, your first thought is Dylan and your second thought is you’re not sure he’ll pick up.

Your third thought is JT and his SUV that you’ve probably totaled.

One of the paramedics helps you dial the equipment manager’s number, the one you were instructed to only ever use in case of emergencies. If ever there was a reason…

When he picks up the phone, you have to explain that you’ve gotten into a tiny fender bender and if you could please speak with JT and yes I mean JT not Dylan.

“Are you okay?” JT all but demands when he picks up the phone.

“I’m totally fine,” you fib, and then concede based on that same female paramedic once again raising an eyebrow. “Okay so I might have broken my wrist but–”

“Which hospital are you going to?” he interrupts.

You tell him, but try to say, “It’s okay you don’t have to–”

He interrupts again, “I’ll be right there.”

He hangs up quicker than you can ask how he’s going to get there without the car that you’ve wrecked.

True to his word, he’s sitting on a chair in your hospital room when you return from getting an x-ray. He stands abruptly upon your entrance and takes the three strides to stand in front of you before hesitating, like you’re made of glass.

You take matters into your own hands and slide your good arm around his back, careful to not jostle your injured wrist. There's a slight tremor to his body that you feel run through yours.

“I’m okay,” you say comfortingly, rubbing your good hand along his back before pausing. “Your car though….”

The tears are already starting to pool in your waterline as he pulls back.

His hands slide to cup your jaw as he speaks seriously, “I don’t give a damn about the car. It can be replaced, you can’t.” A tear slips out before you can stop it and he brushes it away with his thumb before kissing you softly. “I care about you. So much. And that phone call scared the shit out of me.”

Despite the less than stellar background and circumstances, his words have your heart leaping in your chest. “I really care about you too,” you whisper and kiss him again.

“Where is she?” you hear coming down the hall and it occurs to you that your brother is still your emergency contact.

“Did you tell him?” you ask JT who promptly shakes his head.

You don’t even have time to step back from JT’s embrace before Dylan comes crashing into the room. JT wisely pulls away and gives Dylan the space to place his hands on your shoulders and scan for any signs of injury.

“I’m okay,” you reassure him but the words feel hollow considering they’re the first you’ve said to him in more than a week. “Broken wrist they’re gonna cast and probably a concussion. Can’t say the same for the car.”

Eerily similar to JT, Dylan replies, “Cars can be replaced–”

“But I can’t,” you say in unison with him. “I know, JT said the same thing.”

It’s like Dylan remembers his teammate then, eyes sliding over to where JT stands and then back down to your slowly purpling wrist.

The room is silent except for the sounds of medical equipment and the faint sounds occurring outside the door.

“I’m sorry,” you say in unison with your brother again.

“No, I'm sorry,” he says first. “I’m your big brother and I’ve seen you get your heart broken too many times. I’m always going to worry about you but I was out of line.”

“I’m sorry we went behind your backs and I’m sorry you found out that way. We should have just talked to you, I should have just talked to you.”

“Truce?” he asks, like you’re 10 and 11 again, fighting over something silly and trivial.

“Truce,” you confirm, hissing when you knock your broken wrist as you pull him in for a hug.

Later, when you’ve gotten over the guilt of totaling JT’s barely used Audi and the cast on your wrist is long gone, it’ll be a fun story to tell at parties. About how it took an idiot running a red light for you to define your relationship with JT and to reconcile with your brother.

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babymagiclotion · 8 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.”

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babymagiclotion · 8 months

Text

4 times Matthew’s family knew he was in love + 1 time he confesses his love - Matthew Tkachuk

Word count: 5.6k

Warnings: straight up mush, soft af

Tagging: @iceequeen @mbarzals @bandgirlsclub @storiesbymads @jmaybanks @fav-imagines @sportmodepetey @cartrshart @bigboigritty @thinkingboute @jamiesoleksiak @alexandrgeorgiev @andrewcogliano @prettyboybarzal @fastcars @aria253264 @hartsyvibes @hockeyblogg @broadstbroskis @brock-mcginny @marc-andrefleury @raysofcrosby @davidpastrsnack 💖

AN: so I’ve read a handful of 4+1 fic in the past month or so, and each of them blew my mind. I fell in love with the idea and decided I needed to write one right away. This took me way Ionger than I’d like to admit, but it was 100% worth it. About 14 hours in total and I’m proud with how it turned out. Also a huge thank you to @that-fandom-stuck-in-your-head for letting me come into her PMs, and her helping me come up with ideas! You’re a life saver, and this fic wouldn’t be this good if it wasn’t for your Brady idea! Also a huge thank you to @sportmodepetey for helping me brainstorm an ending. I suck at endings, so thank her for this angsty yet soft ending.

—

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babymagiclotion · 8 months

Text

Carry Me Home || S. Aho

Author: Sydney / @sydnikov

Pairing: Sebastian Aho/fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.6k

Summary: Sebastian Aho is frustrated with his team’s loss against the New York Islanders. He takes it out on you in a rather primitive way.

Warnings: 18+ smut smut smut, unprotected p in v (wrap it up kiddos!), oral (f receiving), bits of dom!Sepe, breeding kink if you squint, cursing, angst, not much fluff in this one

A/N: Surprise! My first smut fic. I hate myself. I blame the Hurricanes playing like shit for making me write this. As usual, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. Enjoy!! I certainly didn’t (kidding) P.S. Title is from “All The Small Things” by Blink 182

*Minors, you are responsible for your own media consumption. That being said, I will not block you for interacting with this fic or my blog, but always be aware of the content you choose to consume and the consequences it can have.

Sebastian Aho feels fire in his veins. His skin is flushed, hot to the touch, with his hair smoking from sweat-soaked strands boiling into steam. He is a steadily growing inferno, biding his time before unleashing his wrath.

There was no other time in his life he could think of where he had ever felt so frustrated, so angry.

Painful grunts and the sounds of sticks hitting the ice so hard they break echo in his ears, just as the sound of the puck hitting the goal post every time he shot it did, too. In the back of his mind, Sebastian knows that winning takes more than just one player, but yet all he can think is my fault my fault my fault.

He is an alternate captain, after all. It’s his job to help lead his team, to get them the wins they deserve. So ever since the start of this season, why had he been failing to do so?

Sebastian couldn’t dominate the Islanders on his own no matter how much he wanted to… But there is one person he knows he can.

As the Fin aggressively unties his skates, he imagines the strands of your hair tangled in his fingers as the laces get stuck on his glove. As he rips off his undershirt, he imagines doing the same to your bra.

When the reporters ask the same question they do after every game, “What could you have done better?” and pretend not to flinch when he shoots them a glare, he imagines your wide-eyed gaze as he tells you, c’mon, you can take it, yeah?

He kind of wishes he could say the same thing to these fucking reporters as he imagines giving one or two or preferably all of them a black eye—in a different scenario, of course.

Oh, but you are so good to him. He doesn’t deserve you. There is absolutely nothing in this world that can take you away from him, not now and not ever.

The winger speaks to no one except for the coaching staff as he eventually storms out of the locker room, exchanging a few words about practice and something about more line changes before he is finally let go.

Sebastian doesn’t want to think about hockey anymore. He wants to think about you.

Meanwhile, you were planted outside said locker room with a few of the wives and girlfriends, leaning against the wall while you all tried to talk about anything other than the disaster of a game you’d just watched.

It was hard watching the person you love get so upset and disappointed, especially when knowing how much pressure he puts on himself to be a leader of his team. There were many nights laying in bed, his head resting on your chest, that he revealed the bits and pieces of his carefully shielded heart how responsible he feels for his team’s performance.

How every loss chips away at his self-respect, leaving him feeling broken and lost as he struggles to find a way to get his team back on top. He was only one man, yet felt the weight of a thousand suns bearing down on his shoulders, relying on him to score.

And score he tries. Everything he could do he does; he racks up the points, he makes assists, but all his efforts still couldn’t bring them out on top.

You know Sebastian feels worthless, and you aren’t sure how he’s going to express it as you spot him marching up to you.

“Hey,” is your first word to him, spoken softly and carefully before he pulls you into his chest. The first thing you notice is that he feels like a human furnace; the chill you’d become used to after sitting next to an ice rink for over two hours is immediately replaced with warmth, and you can’t help but bury your head into his chest at the feel of it. “I’m sorry, Sepe.”

The pressure he so often feels immediately dissipates at the sound of your voice. Sebastian releases a strained sigh and curls over your body in a protective embrace, his mind racing with millions of words at a million miles per hour but the only ones he can hear are mine mine mine as you look up at him with unbridled affection.

“Kulta,” My honey, he murmurs, wet strands of hair falling over his eyes as he looks down at you. “You’re still here,” he can’t help but say, almost as if he were expecting you to be gone because he didn’t win.

You soften even more if that were possible. “I would never leave you,” you say with conviction, your words meant to be taken innocently yet all Sebastian could think of is the image of you under him as he thrusts into you, making you say the same words over and over again.

“What was that?”

“I can’t—”

“Yes, you can. C’mon, pretty girl, say it for me again,”

His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. He needs to get you home, immediately.

Lacing his fingers through yours, the Finn presses a heated kiss to your lips, groaning so deep in his chest it has your face flushing a beautiful shade of red which has him thinking truly awful things before the two of you leave the arena.

Sebastian wants nothing more than to take care of you, and thinks briefly that maybe this is a developing unhealthy coping mechanism in the works, but as he opens the car door for you and locks eyes on the way your lips flash him a sweet smile, he can’t find it in himself to care.

You’re just so innocent; it’s in your nature to see the good in everything, to see the good in him despite his less-than holy thoughts. While he doesn’t consider his sex life with you vanilla by any means, he almost feels guilty for all the degrading ways he was thinking of you.

Sebastian was not on top of his game tonight, but he was determined, now, to be on top of you.

Your mind, however, is running rampant in all of the ways you think this night could go, and with Sebastian’s large hand splayed across your thigh as he drives the two of you home, you’re fairly positive in your understanding of what your role is going to be.

It’s funny because you’ve been with him for several years now and he still never fails to get your heart racing. Everything about him has you feeling a certain type of way, especially now as you catch shy peeks of his side profile; clenched jaw, ruffled hair, and blazing eyes…

You can’t help but rub your thighs together, a pleasurable tingle starting low in your belly and spreading warmth throughout the rest of your body as Sebastian gives you a look that spells trouble.

He adjusts the hold he has on your thigh, gripping the flesh just a little bit tighter. “Gonna get you home soon, don’t worry,” he says, almost to himself. It has your eyes widening and your heart beating faster because the tone of his voice is almost feral.

Sebastian is not what you would consider rough in bed. He has his moments, where he uses his strength to flip you over or manhandle you into whatever position he wants, but he’s never been the type to fuck you against a wall or anything of the sorts.

And as dominating as he could sometimes be, his softer side more than made up for it. Sweet but deep kisses to your lips, teeth lovingly nipping marks onto the sides of your breasts, hands roaming all over your body with gentle squeezes and caresses, and a body that seldom ran out of stamina making sure your pleasure always comes before his.

His mouth, however… Sebastian’s mouth is the word ‘dirty’ personified. Sinful lips creating words you’d never want your mother to hear, and a tongue that knew every weak spot on your body to leave you shivering in its wake.

In fact, you couldn’t help but remember the last time his mouth was put to use. Twas the night before, actually, where his body was restless and his solution to getting his energy out was sliding down the length of your body with whispered praises, slipping your panties to the side with his pointer finger, and attaching his lips first thing to your clit—

The sound of your name from the very voice of the man you were just fantasizing about interrupts your thoughts. You quickly turn to find that Sebastian already powered off and exited the vehicle and is holding your door open for you, looking at you with slight concern.

He says your name again when you fail to respond, suddenly starstruck.

Sebastian is just and his arms are so and his lips so full and kissable and him—

The next thing you know, the Finn has wrapped his large hands around your waist and is yanking you out of the car, mouth swooping down to meet your eager lips.

He kisses the life out of you, simultaneously slamming the car door shut so he can press you hard against it. The thought that you have any semblance of control right now slips through your rattled brain not unlike the slickness you can feel dripping down your legs.

He was the epitome of domineering, in no mood to let you think you had any say in what he is going to do to you. Tonight is about him needing a release, and the only way he is going to get it is through you.

Or, rather, by him burying himself so deep inside you you wouldn’t be able to walk for days. The thought has his cock throbbing, unable to resist pressing his hips into the heat between your thighs.

The feeling of his dick against your most sensitive spot has you releasing a breathless whine, and then your kisses become harder against his lips, more desperate.

Sebastian bites at your bottom lip, his own rising into a smirk once he feels rather than hears the resulting gasp catch in your throat. He lets one of his hands rise from the grip he has on your ass to slide carefully around your neck, firmly grasping the front of your throat to bring you closer.

The action has you flat-out whimpering, your hands sinking into the winger’s hair, tugging at the strands so hard he hisses. Now, the Finn is no submissive by any means, but never have you seen him so, so… Dominant.

You decide right then and there that you rather like this side of him.

“Sepe,” you try to speak, but the words catch in your throat again as his kisses move from your lips, past his hand still gripping your throat, and down to the sensitive skin of your collarbone. “—I can’t,”

He hums, your pleas merely background noise as he sucks red marks into your skin. “Can’t what? Gonna have to be more specific, nappula,”

Button. Oh, you are so fucked. Literally. His button. He called you his button. His his his.

Unable to take his slow teasing, you tear him away from your neck to bring him back to your eager lips, a desperate sound crawling up your throat as his hands move to bury themselves in your hair.

“Take me to bed, please,”

Sebastian practically melts at your words. Knowing your desperation, he moves his hands back from your hair down to your thighs, tapping once and then twice where you finally got the memo to jump. He curls your legs over his hips, sliding one hand under your ass with the other pressing supportively against the small of your back.

The five-second walk to the front door has the hand previously holding your back trembling as he fumbles with his keys. Finally opening the door after forcing himself to focus, despite the feeling of your mouth leaving teasing nips and kisses, Sebastian mutters a long string of curses as he hurriedly steps into the house, swiftly kicking the door shut behind him.

“Such a fucking tease,” he rasps into your ear, his free hand grasping onto the back of your neck to bring you back to his lips. He kisses you sensually, reveling in the softness of your body molding perfectly against his. “Bet you’ve been waiting for me all night.”

You nod rapidly in agreement, hands trying to find purchase on the smooth lines of his suit so you could begin tearing it off of him. “I’m always wanting you, Sepe,”

Sebastian hisses another curse, and the next thing you know your back is landing softly on the large mattress that is his bed. He gives you no time to gather your thoughts before he’s climbing on top of you. His calloused hands slip under your shirt to remove it, granting him full access to knead at your tits.

The forward kisses you again, tongue tracing lines across your bottom lip before forcefully pushing his way in. You can feel him everywhere and nowhere all at once, a strangled sound escaping your throat as his hips start grinding into the throbbing heat between your legs.

“Seb,” you try, back arching as his hands skillfully move to unclasp your bra. “Oh fuck, Seb, please,”

The sound of your cries has Sebastian grinning wolfishly, your desperation filling him with a sick sense of pride. “Please what?”

Suddenly, you understand his teammates just a little bit more when they would call him a little shit and other various, foul nicknames in front of you.

Clumsily grabbing one of his hands from where it was still massaging your tit, your legs fall open as you press his palm directly over the material of your pants, almost positive they were wet. “Please just touch me, please—”

Your babbling is interrupted when he begins peppering your face with soothing kisses, apologetically rubbing his thumb over your nipple while the other makes its way under your pants and down to your slit, thoroughly soaked with your arousal.

“This all for me?” he coos as two fingers run through your lips, taking the natural lubricant to rub tight circles over your clit. “You’re soaked, kisu.”

The resulting mewl that escapes you afterwards lives up to the name he just called you. Kitty.

Sebastian watches your reactions with hooded eyes, taking note of the way your breath hitches when he rubs your clit a certain way; he knows the ins and outs of your body by now, but every time you have sex there is still something new to learn, and there is nothing Sebastian is if not eager to learn. He’s particularly fond of the way you arch into him as he sinks two fingers inside you, grinning as you cry out while the calloused pads of his fingertips curl against the spongy wall of nerves nestled near the front of your walls.

With panting breaths and strangled moans, your thighs shake as his thumb finds its way back to your clit and rubs it in circles the same way his fingers are doing inside you. Your stomach feels as if it’s in knots, hands gripping the sheets beneath you so hard they’ve gone numb, and your mind is blissfully blank except for the repetitive thought of more more more.

You echo this sentiment to him, to which he merely picks up the pace in response. It’s almost too much but a good too much, like the peak of your pleasure is just climbing higher and higher, almost impossible to reach but you can feel it right there—

Suddenly, all pleasurable movements stop. You snap your head up, aghast, cheeks flushed with arousal and now irritation because were were so fucking close and now all you’re left with is a disappointed burn between your legs. “Sebastian, what the actual fuck,”

The very man himself licks his lips, looking all too pleased with the way you’re relying on him to help you finish. “Patience,” is all he says, flashing you a shiny smile before skilled hands are sliding the rest of your pants and underwear down your legs. Instinctively your legs try to close at the feel of cold air hitting your pussy, but Sebastian is having none of it as he swiftly pries your thighs back apart.

“Shy?” He teases, stroking your inner thigh before pulling his shirt off his head. You have a reply prepared, but quickly lose your train of thought as his torso is revealed; Sebastian is all hard planes of muscle, golden skin with a light dusting of body hair, and so distinctly male he has you practically drooling as you reach out to trail your hands down his chest.

“You’re beautiful,” you breathe, wrapping your arms around his waist to bring his body down on top of yours. You want, no, need him close to you. While your veins were still full of liquid fire, your nerves so hot that every brush of his skin against yours left you quaking, there is still a certain amount of intimacy that could always be found within your actions towards each other.

A certain intimacy that leads to whispered praises like these; Sebastian flushes, momentarily forgetting the role he vowed to take after the agony that had been wreaking havoc in his mind since his team’s loss. “Kulta,” he says, breath hitching as he presses his lips to your neck to taste the light sheen of sweat covering your skin. He kisses your body like you are his shrine, sworn to you in utter devotion. “Kaunis tyttöni.”

My beautiful girl. Every word from that point onward tumbles past his lips in Finnish, because in what other way can he describe the beauty you encapsulate? You are an angel, after all, his angel, in fact, and his only. With his hands settling on the curves of your waist to further cement his point, he continues his assault on your neck with teeth and tongue all while he grinds his covered dick against your bare pussy.

“Sebastian?”

“Yeah?”

“Fuck me, please,”

And just like that, the indescribable need to claim claim claim takes over his body once more. His eyes darken, the lust swallowing his senses moving him to quickly strip the slacks he wore off his legs, and then he reaches into his boxers to pull out his dick.

You could never get over the sight of his cock, you think momentarily as you stare, mesmerized by the flushed head and leaking tip. He took on more girth than length, and to you it’s nothing less than perfect because Sebastian is the only man who has ever gotten you to the point where you’re unable to walk the next day.

Maybe that speaks more of his knowledge of the female anatomy compared to your exes, but nonetheless you’re grateful.

You bite your lip, one of your hands falling from his back to reach down and take his erection in your hand. Sebastian hisses through his teeth at the feeling of you gripping him, and watches for a moment as you stroke him almost gently.

“I’m going to need you to stop that,” he speaks, a groan following right after before he quickly swats your hand away.

You frown, a slight pout on your lips. “Why?”

“Because I’m going to come in two minutes like a teenager if you keep it up, kisu.”

“Well when you say it like that—”

You’re interrupted by Sebastian slamming your lips back together, your words gone just as quickly as they’d come. Oh, how you could kiss him for ages and never be sick of it. You say this to him, or at least attempt to, before his hand not buried in your hair finds its way back down to your clit and rubs rather roughly.

“Want to taste you,” he mumbles, drunk on the sight of you under him as he lines up his dick with your entrance. “Want to taste you so bad. But I need to be inside you first,”

You try to respond, but then Sebastian is kissing you again right as the head of his cock pushes its way into your cunt. It burns, but a good burn because you would never be used to his size and the feel of him sliding deeper sets all your nerve endings on fire. You’re forced to adjust quickly, and something about him not caring if you’re ready or not has you dripping.

“Oh fuck,” you whine, restless hands weaving through his hair and all over his back, refusing to settle. You didn’t know what to do with yourself, too consumed with how good it felt being stretched to lie still beneath him. “Feels so good, Seb,”

“Yeah?” he huffs into your ear, hot breaths against your skin sending shivers down your spine. “God, you’re perfect,” Sebastian groans, his hips suddenly snapping forward. The angle has him hitting the sweet spot inside you perfectly, your walls clamping down tight around him which sends you both spiraling.

You cry out as he begins moving, the strength behind the force of his thrusts staggering because very rarely did he lose control with you. Sebastian tends to treat you like priceless jewelry, but you’re anything but tonight as his teeth sink into your neck to muffle his moans.

His pubic bone rubs against your clit deliciously every time his hips come down, and you couldn’t help but try and tilt your own upwards to match him. Sebastian clearly appreciates your efforts, hissing something that sounds distinctively like a curse.

Past the ringing in your ears, you can hear him muttering to himself. His eyes are squeezed shut against the rolling tides of pleasure coursing through his body, but his mouth is anything but closed. Then his head is lifting suddenly, hair now slick with sweat hanging over his eyes as he looks down at you.

“I need you to come around me,” he says, voice nothing more than a rasp. “Want to feel you squeezing me.”

“Please,” you interrupt, but he either doesn’t hear your plea or chooses to ignore you.

“Then I’m going to taste you, and when you come I’m going to fuck you again.”

Your head is nodding rapidly at his words because there is zero part of you that ever wants him to stop. It was almost primitive the way he was taking you, and you maybe liked it a little more than you should.

Sebastian picks up the pace, and you find yourself thankful - not for the first time - for his insane amount of stamina. The strength conditioning he goes through on a daily basis makes you wonder how he doesn’t just die, but nonetheless you can’t help but appreciate it.

His hands find their way under your back in the midst of your appreciative thoughts, settled on your lower back just above your ass, when he tilts your hips up and his cock strikes the sensitive, spongy spot inside you head-on. It has you keening loudly, uncontrollably—one of your hands previously gripping the sheets jerkily moves to cover your mouth, your own noises embarrassing you.

He doesn’t notice at first, too busy moving his hips in the same pattern as before because he enjoys the way you grip him like a vice, your body’s way of telling him he’s doing a good job, but when he sees you trying to muffle your noises he instantly grows possessive.

Possessive of you, your noises, because in his feral mind everything about you belongs to him and Sebastian doesn’t want you ever holding yourself back. Your name falls from his lips darkly, “You don’t hide yourself from me,” one of his hands drags yours from your mouth, the other splaying across your lower back to keep your body in the same position.

You try to apologize, but your breath escapes you when his hand slides itself down your body, brushing past one of your nipples, then dipping into your navel where his fingers once again find your swollen clit. He rubs quickly, dick ramming into you even faster than before.

Now more than ever Sebastian wants you to come undone beneath him, and soon he gets his wish as the calloused pads of his fingertips roll your clit in time with one, two, and then on the third thrust your entire body seizes.

Tensing, clenching, shuddering—your eyes flutter as your vision goes white, and you feel nothing except for wave after wave of overwhelming pleasure rushing through you. Vaguely, you feel what you think is Sebastian gently continuing his ministrations on your clit in time with slow thrusts, helping you ride out the waves of your orgasm.

Then your eyes are opening after what feels like hours but had really only been minutes of you going still. You tense again, this time with sensitivity rather than pleasure, and he reads your body perfectly as he slides out of you, removing his fingers from your clit at the same time.

You come to a realization then, “Wait, you didn’t come,” you murmur, and Sebastian has a mischievous sparkle in his eye that makes you think he held himself back on purpose. You’re proven right when he suddenly slides down your body, hands prying your thighs apart before settling on your hips, holding you open like his very own buffet.

He lets out a long sound, like he still can’t believe you’re right here in front of him, and then his mouth is meeting the slick folds of your pussy. The timespan between your first orgasm and him now feasting on you has your mind reeling, blissfully going numb as his warm, wet tongue licks into you.

“Sepe,” you whine, having not yet decided if you could handle another orgasm so close to your last. He parrots your name back, the vibrations from his voice rumbling pleasantly. “You can take it,” he coos, hooded eyes watching your face as his lips now fully latch onto your clit. He sucks, steadily picking up the intensity until your thighs are shaking uncontrollably.

He doesn’t stop, not as your cries grow louder and you subconsciously try squirming away from him. He just holds your hips down, anyways. As his tongue joins the mix, dipping down to flick at your nub suctioned in between his lips, one of his hands moves down to dip two fingers into your folds.

Sebastian groans at your wet heat enveloping his digits, already greedy for the feeling of you squeezing his dick again. Then he starts thrusting his finger, timing it with the flicks of his tongue, and then you’re coming all over again. “There you go, such a good girl for me,” he praises as your pussy spasms, eagerly lapping up your juices like you’re his favorite meal.

Oh god. You are officially fucked-out. You definitely have a bad case of sex-for-brains. You can’t think beyond the sensitivity of your overwhelmed nether regions, and yet as Sebastian crawls up your body for the third time you can’t help but have your legs fall open to welcome him.

This is new for him, too. Sebastian’s endurance is extraordinary, yes, but he never really let himself use it to his full extent with you. Now, though? He wants to explore the thrill of dominance, of controlling you when everything else in his life slips through his fingers.

Against his will, he thinks of his team for a moment. It’s still too raw of a feeling, he finds, hating the way disappointment and frustration bubbles up inside him. Sebastian swallows roughly, squeezes his eyes shut as if that would help block out the sound of the final buzzer ringing in his ears, and then kisses you to distract himself.

As he lines himself back up with your entrance, you both find that the energized tension between you has cooled significantly. Sebastian is less restless and jerky with his movements, and your desperation has cooled as your legs wrap around his waist. He whimpers into your neck, then, his arms curling under your back to press your bodies even closer together.

Your roles switch, and you whisper sweet and dirty nothings into Sebastian’s ear as his hips roll into you. The head of his cock scratches that delicious part inside of you, and soon your words turn into gasps which are music to his ears. One thrust has you squeezing him particularly hard, and his rhythm stutters. “Fuck, you feel amazing,”

His lips form into an o-shape, and suddenly he finds that his high is coming (hah) much quicker than expected. He expresses such, or thinks he does, because all you do is moan in response when his thrusts pick up speed.

He wants to send you into your third orgasm before letting go himself, and even though Sebastian has been rather selfish tonight, one thing that would never change is that your pleasure would always come before his—no matter what.

“Gonna come for me?” Sebastian teases, lips managing to curl into a brief smirk before you’re squeezing him again, wiping it right off his face. “Yeah? Look so pretty taking my cock, baby,”

“I’m close,”

“I know. Let go for me.”

And let go you do. You seize up, not for the first time tonight, before shuddering with full force in the wake of your third release. Your vision goes white in time with the ringing of your ears as you’re consumed in it, feeling too much but also not enough at the same time because your boyfriend is a force you could never get sick of.

Your walls are squeezing Sebastian like a vice, and it only takes him a few more thrusts as you ride out your orgasm before he’s falling into his own. He groans from deep in his chest, arms shakily moving to rest on either side of your head as he buries his own in your neck.

He sinks his teeth into your shoulder as his dick pulses inside you, pumping you full of his cum while you shudder beneath him. It fills Sebastian with a primal sense of satisfaction, knowing he’s claimed you from the inside out.

You’re his, still repeats itself in his mind on repeat, until both of your bodies are spent and he’s rolling off of you exhaustedly. You’re still panting when he turns to look at you, and without hesitation he pulls you into his chest so you can rest your tired body against his.

It takes you a few minutes until you can muster the energy to move, and when you do it’s to tilt your head up to look up at him. You murmur his name, quietly, lest you disturb the fragile peace the two of you find yourselves in. “Sepe?”

“Mhmm?”

“Do you feel better?” It’s a loaded question, you both know, and he takes a few minutes to think about it.

Sebastian’s body feels better, yes. It’s limp, relaxed, the achy tension long-gone from his muscles. The moment he first sank into you he felt immensely better, actually, now that he thinks about it.

His mind, however, is a completely different story.

Colors of red, orange, and blue flash behind his eyes; the colors of his jersey and the opposing team’s, with the haunting sound of the final buzzer still playing in his memory. He thinks of the anger, of his teammates’ faces as they marched defeatedly into the locker room.

No, he thinks with sudden clarity. No, he doesn’t feel better. Sebastian doesn’t say this though; it probably isn’t the answer you want to hear, considering how you explored a new aspect of your relationship tonight.

You know, though. You always know—Sebastian is your better half, and you can understand him more than your own self sometimes, now being one of those moments.

“I love you,” you say after several minutes of silence. Your declaration - the first of the night, he suddenly realizes - says everything he needs to know, about how you feel for him and that he has your support no matter what.

Sebastian swallows, finding that his throat is parched. Lying naked under the sheets, vulnerable and oh-so-exposed, he lowers his head to kiss you sweetly. You mold together softly, and a low rumble can be felt from his chest as you gently nip at his bottom lip.

He is a man of few words, preferring to show his feelings with actions rather than words and this just happened to be one of those moments. He loves you so much, more than words can describe, his lips say, before they gently part from yours.

You admire him in his full glory before he opens his mouth to speak. His hair is incredibly ruffled, from both your hands and the game he played, his full lips swollen red from your kisses, and his eyes have a light sheen to him that suggest he’s more emotional than letting on.

Sebastian raises a hand to your cheek, large yet gentle palm caressing the soft skin as he gazes at you like you’re precious porcelain. “I love you,”

Your lips break into a small smile, and then you’re curling farther into his chest. You’re far too comfortable to move, figuring aftercare in the bathtub can come later. For now, you’re content; your body is sated, and with his cum dripping down your legs you’ve never felt so full with love.

Sebastian knows he has hell to face tomorrow morning. He knows it, but doesn’t really care. For now, in the peaceful silence of his room with only the gentle sounds of your breaths to keep him company, he chooses to forget.

He’s only one man, after all. He can’t carry his team, but he can carry you.

A/N: This is the first time I've written in present tense, which was actually a lot harder than I thought because I kept using past tense action verbs 💀 it was a fun challenge though!! Hopefully my parents never ask me what exactly it is that I write about because. Uh. Yeah. Once again, please reblog and comment :))

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babymagiclotion · 9 months

Text

Digital Animal|| E. Edwards x reader x R. McGroarty

• pairing: Ethan Edwards x reader x Rutger McGroarty

•summary: Truth or dare at the sophomore house leads to a night of passion with your boyfriend and his teammate that you’ll never forget

•word count: definitely close to 7k

•warnings: SMUT, threesome, unprotected p in v sex, oral (m & f receiving), digital sex (fingering), lot of teasing foreplay, thigh riding, praise kink, lots of hair pulling, cum eating, overstimulation, slight degredation, mature language, truth or dare, alcohol consumption, underage drinking

*in this story, Adam and Luke are visiting umich*

You were standing next to your boyfriend Ethan, sipping on whatever mixed drink Mark had made you. Ethan’s hand was placed firmly on your waist as you pushed your body against his. The loud bass from the music blasting in the living room could be heard and felt as the two of you stood in the kitchen. As you lifted the solo cup to your lips, Ethan nuzzled his face into your neck. His slight stubble rubbing against the sensitive skin of your neck sent shivers down your spine.

“Mmm,” you bit your lip, biting back your soft moan, “Eth, quit.”

He chuckled against your neck, the vibrations causing more goose bumps to raise over your skin.

“Your reactions say otherwise.” He said before kissing and sucking gently at your neck. You brought your free hand up to the boys brown locks, letting your fingers tug gently at the strands falling over his forehead. Ethan took his lips away form your neck, instead capturing your lips instead. Your mouths moved in sync as your breathing was starting to grow heavy. Ethan was about to hoist you up onto the counter when a few of his teammates entered the kitchen.

“Oh god.” Luke groaned as he turned away from the two of you. “Ew,” Mark gagged from beside the youngest Hughes, “I think I just threw up in my mouth a little bit.”

Ethan pulled away from you, his cheeks growing red as he began chuckling at his teammates. “You’re just jealous I’m actually getting any action.”

“I get plenty of action, thanks.”

“Sure…”

Luca picked up a solo cup from the counter, filling it to the brim with whatever alcoholic concoction was in yours.

“Maybe instead of sucking face in the kitchen, you should come to the living room.”

“I don’t know Luca,” Adam spoke up, a teasing grin on his face as he looked between you and Ethan, “I think the real party’s in the kitchen.”

You rolled your eyes at the younger brother as you brought yourself away from Ethan’s body. As the group of players teased each other, you let your eyes wander over to the doorway of the kitchen.

Rutger was leaning against the wall, his eyes trailing down your leather top and mini skirt clad body as his fingers tapped against the cup in his hand. Your breath hitched in the back of your throat as you watched the blonde eye you. You weren’t even thinking as you pulled your lip in between your teeth, biting down softly on the skin as you looked back at Rutger. Of course you loved Ethan. He was your boyfriend since Freshman year, but something about the blonde haired-blue eyed sophomore hockey player had you feeling unexplainable things.

Rutger tore his eyes away from your body, bringing his gaze up to your face. His eyes widened slightly as soon as he noticed you’d caught him staring at you and practically eye fucking you. Rutger averted his gaze and cleared his throat before walking into the kitchen. He threw his head back, adam’s apple bobbing as he downed the rest of his drink and poured himself a new one. Ethan wrapped his arm around your waist again, causing you to snap your eyes away from his teammate.

It felt so wrong…but Rutger was so perfect.

You leaned into your boyfriend’s touch, craning your neck up to look at him. You admired his chiseled jawline and how his eyes brown eyes lit up every time he laughed or smiled at a comment one of the boys made. Ethan could feel your gaze on him, making him look down at you. Your eyes locked and before you knew it your lips were connected once again. You tugged at Ethan’s lower lip as you pulled away from the kiss. Ethan could feel his legs feel weak from your teasing. If you kept this up, something would have to be done.

“Why don’t we go join the others in the living room?” You suggested, batting your eyelash up at your boyfriend. Battleflag, a club like song was playing from the speaker, perfect for dancing with or rather, on Ethan.

Ethan looked down at you with a smirk. He’s been with you long enough to know what you were getting at. “Lead the way beautiful.”

You smiled and pulled away from your boyfriend, reaching to grab his hand as you led him out of thr kitchen and into fine packed living room of the house. All of Ethan’s teammates were there, along with about fifteen other people. Everyone in the living room was extremely intoxicated, sloppily dancing all over each other as they sipped on their third drink of the night.

Classic college party.

You brought Ethan over to the corner of the living room where Luca, Adam, Mark, and Dylan were dancing with a couple blonde girls. You let go of Ethan’s hand and started to dance. You swayed your hips to the beat of the club like music. You brought your hands up to your hair, running it through the strands as you started to grind on Ethan. You rubbed your ass against his pelvis, making him grip your hips and bring you closer. As you grind against your boyfriend, not only could you feel his hard on growing but you were eyeing his teammate from across the room as you moved in a rhythmic way. The music changed to an almost slower pace…

I’m blown to the maxim

Two hemispheres battling

I’m blown to the maxim

Two hemispheres battling

Sucking up one last breath, take a drag off of death

The room felt like it was moving in slow motion as the music changed pace and you continued to grind on Ethan. You ran your hands through your hair as Ethan’s skilled hands were roaming wildly over your body. You maintained eye contact with Rutger, the blonde clenching his jaw as he eyed you. He wanted nothing more than to take Ethan’s place and be the one you were grinding against. Rutger wouldn’t deny that you were one of the prettiest girls he knows. But he respects Ethan and he’d never make a move, no matter how bad he and his body wanted to.

You could feel yourself growing wetter the more you were rubbing your ass on Ethan’s hard on, his skilled hands gripping your hips and moving south to your thighs weren’t helping either. You quit your movements, sending Rutger a wink as you turned around and threw your arms around your boyfriend’s neck. You gave him a sultry smile as you ran your hands down his chest and midsection, your arousal growing as you felt each of his abs on your fingertips.

You always had a thing for Ethan’s abs.

Ethan smirked as he watched you trail your hands down his body, stopping when you got to the waistband of his pants. He pulled you close to him so your bodies were touching, the two of you dancing along to the beat of the club like music that was coming to an end. You put your arms around Ethan’s neck again, throwing a look over your shoulder to see if Rutger was still watching you.

He was.

You turned back to face Ethan, eyeing him as he moved dangerously close to your face. He leaned into the side of your neck, sucking gently at the skin like he did earlier in the kitchen before moving to place gentle kisses along your jawline. You threw your head back and gripped Ethan’s upper back as he kissed under your earlobe and licked a stripe from your collar bone up your neck. You moaned softly at the feeling of your boyfriend’s tongue, moving your face so he could kiss you instead. Ethan smashed his mouth onto yours, your lips parting instantly to allow his tongue entrance. The two of you moaned into the kiss as your tongues fought for dominance. Ethan pulled away from you, resting his forehead against yours as his hands rested on your butt.

“God,” he all but breathed out, “I love you Y/n.” You smiled, giving your boyfriend’s shoulders a gentle squeeze, “I love you too Eddy.”

You brought your lips to his once again, passionately kissing him before you pulled away and breathlessly spoke, “You’re so sexy, so perfect E.” Except your weren’t looking at Ethan when you said those words.

You were looking at Rutger.

He had moved so he was now standing right next to you and Ethan, joining the group of guys you were dancing next to. You could feel butterflies erupt in your belly as you looked between your boyfriend and his teammate that had caught your eyes months ago. Something about the way Rutger looked in his backwards cap and firm fitting gray t-shirt standing next to the love of your life had you yearning for something more.

You were snapped out of your thoughts by Luca tapping on your shoulder. You looked over at the hockey player, humming and giving him your full attention.

“Wanna play truth or dare?” His words were slightly slurred as he yelled over the music. You turned to Ethan, who was nodding profusely. “Yeah we’ll play!” You shouted over the music.

Luca grinned excitedly as he nodded, “Perfect!” he shouted, we’re gonna go in the kitchen and play.”

Ethan placed his hand in yours, lacing his fingers with yours as the two of you left the living room. Before you walked away, Ethan turned to Rutger.

“You playin Rut?” He asked, eyebrows raised as he looked at his teammate. The blonde nodded, eyeing you as he spoke, “Hell yeah. You know I never pass up playing truth or dare with you guys.”

The three of you left the living room and went into the kitchen. Luca, Adam, Luke, Dylan, and Mark were all sitting down on the floor waiting for the three of you to join them.

Ethan let out a heavy sigh as he plopped down on the floor. “Finally. Feel like I can actually hear again.” Rutger laughed beside him, “For real. It’s loud as fuck in there.”

“It’s a party Rut,” Adam said, “it’s supposed to be loud.”

You laughed as you leaned against your boyfriend, “But not blow your eardrums out until you’re bleeding loud.”

“Whatever,” Luca sighed, “let’s play. Who’s starting?”

“I’ll go.” Mark volunteered. Luca nodded, “Truth or dare, Mr. Estapa?”

“Truth.”

Dylan spoke, “How many girls you hook up with this year?”

Mark took a moment to respond. Making all of you raise your eyebrows. You knew Mark was a ladies man, but you didn’t think he got around that much.

“Two and a half.” He answered confidently. Rutger raised an eyebrow, “A half?”

“Didn’t go all the way. Quick BJ and she left, so two and a half.” Mark explained. You all nodded slowly, understanding what he meant.

A couple more rounds went by, Adam picked dare and Dylan dared him to finish off everyone’s drink. Ethan picked dare and Rutger dared him to take a shot out of your belly button—which you didn’t think would turn you on as much as it did. Dylan picked truth and you asked him if he was a boobs or an ass guy, he couldn’t pick so he said both and gave his reasons.

“Rutger,” Luca said, turning to look at the sophomore, “truth or dare?”

Rutger squinted as he looked at Luca, “Hmm, dare.”

“I dare you to french the hottest girl here.”

A chorus of “oooo”s broke out between the guys. Rutger’s adams apple bobbed as he gulped. He took a deep breath and mentally composed himself for what he was about to do.

This was his chance.

Before you could even react, you felt Rutgers hand grab your chin. Your heart was racing as his large hand moved to cupped your cheek. He smashed his lips against yours, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close to him as you kissed back with just as much passion.

All of the guys gasped loudly, shocked that Rutger would even think about kissing you. You were dating Ethan. You were off limits. Everybody knows that. But clearly Rutger didn’t care.

You brought a hand up to the nape of his neck, letting your fingers tug at his blonde hair as his tongue swirled around your mouth. Rutger was a great kisser. Better than you could have even imagined. You were so caught up in the passionate kiss that you didn’t even think to see how Ethan reacted.

While all of the guys were shocked at the scene in front of them, Ethan was watching the two of you make-out in front of him with a sly smile. He knew his girlfriend was hot and he didn’t mind sharing her with Rutger. She would never tell him, but Ethan knew his girlfriend was attracted to Rutger. He always knew. Rutgers an extremely attractive guy, so Ethan couldn’t get upset with his girlfriend for agreeing with that. He knows you love him and only him, so he didn’t care that you were making out with his teammate and one of his best friends. Besides, it was dare anyways. Sure Rutger could have picked another girl, but he picked you. And that gave Ethan a bit of pride in himself.

Rutger moaned into the kiss, the sound of his moans mixed with the feeling of his tongue against yours made your knees weak. You felt like you were dreaming.

Rutger pulled away from you, tugging your bottom lip with his teeth the same way you did with Ethan earlier. His blue eyes were filled with lust as he looked at you and only you. He smiled softly at you before he pulled away from you completely, going back to his spot next to Adam and leaving you stunned and horny.

Dylan cleared his throat, “Well, that was uh, that was hot. You really have some balls for that Rut.”

“Sorry Eddy,” Rutger spoke as he looked at your boyfriend, “it’s the rules, I can’t lie and I can’t not do the dare.”

Ethan shrugged. Maybe it was the alcohol talking, but he truly didn’t care. If anything, it had him a little…excited.

“It’s fine Rut. I don’t mind. She is the hottest girl here,” Ethan said. He placed a hand on your thigh, squeezing it gently, “I don’t think Y/n minds either.”

You stayed silent, pulling your lip in between your teeth and avoiding eye contact with any of the guys. Rutger and Ethan both smirked at your silence. They were getting the exact reaction out of you that they wanted.

“Y/n,” Luke said, a teasing tone lacing his voice, “truth or dare?”

“Truth.” You picked, already knowing where he was going with it.

“Are you happy Rutger picked you to french?”

You glanced at Ethan, then at Rutger. Both boys eyed you carefully as they waited for a response from you. You shouldn’t…

“Yes.”

Both Ethan and Rutger smirked at your answer. Before you could say anything more, Rutger switched to the next person. Thats all he needed from you.

“Luca,” Rutger said looking at the older Fantilli brother, “truth or dare.”

“Dare.”

“I dare you to kiss one of the guys.”

Luca let out a laugh as he shook his head, “Dude seriously?” Rutger shrugged as he leaned back on his elbows. He cocked his head to the side, “Yup.” You have to do it. It’s the rules Fants.”

Luca sighed as he eyed his teammates. He opened his mouth but closed it quickly closed it. “Can it be on the cheek?”

“Mouth.”

Luca winced.

“With tongue.” Rutger said, wiggling his eyebrows at Luca as a few of the guys laughed while the others groaned. Luca shook his head, “Absolutely not.”

“I was kidding. Just a peck.” Rutger laughed. Luca sighed and looked amongst his teammates.

“Alright, c’mere Duker.”

Dylan groaned, “No, no. Why me?”

“I’m not kissing my brother, I refuse to ever lock lips with Luke, sorry Luke.”

“No need,” Luke said nodding, “I’m actually flattered that you don’t want to kiss me.

Luca continued, “Mark is a no, I know Eddy wouldn’t do it, and Rut’s already had a tongue shoved down his throat so that leaves you.”

Dylan winced and got up slightly, “Fine. Lay it on me man.”

The two awkwardly leaned in as if it was a couples first time kissing. All of you broke out into fits of laughter as you watched Luca pucker his lips and place a quick peck to Dylan’s mouth. He pulled away quicker than you’ve ever seen Luca move on ice before. The two guys wiped their mouths profusely. You leaned into Ethan, the two of you snickering as you watched your friends wipe away the feeling of each other.

The game of truth or dare continued, nothing too crazy or intense happened until it was Rutger’s turn once again.

“I’ll pick truth this time.”

The guys looked at each other before looking back at Rutger. Mark asked the question that made you all widen your eyes.

“When’s the last time you fingered or ate a girl out, Rut?

Oh boy.

“Ooooh,” Luke laughed, “I’m ready for this one.”

Rutger’s face grew red as he spoke, “Well I,” he gulped, “uh…”

“Come on Roger, spit it out. This is a safe space.” Mark said as he elbowed Rutger in his side.

“I’ve actually never done that to a girl.”

You looked at Rutger with a slight look of shock. There was no way. A guy like Rutger had to have done something like that with a girl.

“No fucking way. Are you a virgin?!” Luca asked, seeming genuinely shocked at Rutgers answer.

Rutger shook his head no, “Not a virgin, just never done any of the extra stuff yet.”

“You’ve never given head?” Ethan asked, eyebrows raised.

“Nope.”

“Ever received head?” Adam asked, looking at his friend with a look of disbelief.

“Nope.”

“Damn Rut, you’re missing out.” Luca sighed, “You haven’t lived until you’ve given or received head.”

Rutger rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly as he sheepishly spoke, “I guess so. I just haven’t had the chance I guess.“

You shifted your position on the ground, feeling the wetness between your thighs grow and your core throb with excitement. You couldn’t help but feel a little turned on at the idea of Rutger being inexperienced in the oral department.

You’d absolutely give him a chance to gain some experience…

Rutger glanced at you as he spoke again, “I wouldn’t mind trying it though.”

You bit your lip as you eyed the blonde. You could feel the sexual tension growing more and more between the two of you as the night went on. You were too busy eyeing Rutger that you didn’t notice Ethan’s smirk as he looked over at you. He placed a hand on your thigh, squeezing it gently and bringing it dangerously close to your core.

“We’ll find you someone Rut,” Ethan said, playfully smirking at the boy, “plenty of girls here would love to help you out. Isn’t there Y/n?” He asked, looking at you with a smirk.

You gulped and nodded, putting a smile on your face to hide your arousal. “Yeah, so many. We’ll find you one.”

“We’ll try,” Adam corrected, “most of the girls here have someone they’re with.” Rutger rubbed his neck as he shook his head, “S’alright guys. Dont worry, I’ll find someone.”

Rutger was definitely going to find someone. You and the boys finished your game of truth or dare, deciding to get refills before heading back to the living room to dance and socialize because according to Mark: “the night is still young”.

You followed Ethan out of the laundry room and out to the living room. Digital Animal by Honey Claws began playing as soon as you entered the crowed room. Ethan began to dance with you, the two of you jumping around with the group of college students surrounding you. You went back to the position you were in earlier, your body pressed against his as your hips teasingly swayed back and forth. Your boyfriend wrapped his arms around your middle, pulling you extremely close so your butt was resting against his pelvis. Ethan could feel your core throbbing against him, making him feel even more turned on than he already was.

He knew exactly what had you hot and bothered.

Ethan sucked at the skin below your ear, nibbling gently at the sweet spot on your neck that never failed to make you moan. His hot breath caused goose bumps to raise across your skin as he spoke.

“Why don’t we go upstairs, beautiful,” Ethan spoke into your ear. You so shivered from a combination of excitement from him words and the feeling of his breath on your neck. You bit your lip as you turned around in his embrace. You threw your arms around his neck and nodded at his suggestion.

“Please.”

Ethan smirked at your response. He wrapped an arm around your waist and carefully led you out of the living room and up the stairs to one of the bedrooms. The boys all agreed that nobody was allowed upstairs except for the guys that moved there or any of their teammates. You could do anything in the rooms as long as you didn’t mess with anything valuable and you changed the sheets once you were done. It initially shocked you when Ethan told you about the rules last year when huh were sophomores, but you eventually came around to it. The guys truly didn’t give a shit about anything that happened in their house or their bedrooms.

Ethan brought you into his old bedroom when he lived at the Sophomore house. Being back in that room brought back many memories. While it wasn’t Ethan’s bedroom anymore, the room still brought back feelings of comfort and happiness. You looked around the room as Ethan shut the door behind you. The pictures on the wall and the poster of the Winnipeg Jets logo gave away the new occupant of the room that was once your lovers.

This was Rutgers room.

Your breath hitched in the back of your throat as you turned to Ethan. He was going to take you here in Rutgers room.

Rutger, who you couldn’t keep your eyes off of all night. Rutger, who you wanted more of after he kissed you. Rutger, who you couldn’t help but wonder what his tongue would feel like against your aching core. Rutger, who you desperately needed just for one night…

Ethan brought you out of your thoughts about his teammate when he came up to you and attacked your lips, kissing you feverishly. You moaned into the kiss and brought your hands up to his brown locks.

“Eddy,” you moaned into his lips, “need you.”

Ethan took his lips away from yours, chuckling softly as he eyed you, “You need me?”

“Mhm.”

“Not Rutger?”

Rutger. Just hearing his name made you throb with excitement.

Ethan sat down on Rutgers bed, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into him. He placed a kiss on your tummy as his hands trailed up your thighs to the waistband of your skirt. He tugged gently at the material as his lips smashed harshly against yours. You swirled your tongue over his bottom lip before slipping it into his mouth. Ethan sat you down on his lap, chuckling into your mouth at the feeling of your wetness on his thigh. He detached his lips from yours and kissed at almost your collarbone as you threw your head back.

“You wish this was Rutgers thigh don’t you baby, hm?”

Ethan place his hands on your hips as you rubbed your slick core against his thigh. He tensed the muscle in his thigh, making you gasp at the jolt of pleasure coursing through your body. He continued to whisper dirty words in your ear, working you up as you rode his thigh.

“I saw that look on your face when Rut said he’s never ate a girl out before. You want him to do it to you don’t you?”

“Mhm,” you whimpered out, a loud moan escaping your lips as Ethan clenched his thigh again. “Such a dirty girl. Want Rutger to fuck you, eat you out until your legs are shaking.”

You closed your eyes tight as you whined. The more Ethan edged you on, the closer you felt to your release.

“Want you Eth,” you breathed out, “you and Rut.”

Ethan smirked as he squeezed your hips. He wasn’t sure if it was all the alcohol in his system or if he was genuinely intrigued with the idea, but Ethan didn’t mind the possibility of him and his teammate having their way with you.

“Both of us?” Ethan asked with raised eyebrows. You bit your lip, biting back a moan as you felt Ethan push you down harsher against his thigh, tensing it each time he felt your wetness against him.

“Yes.” you panted, letting out a soft whine as you felt your orgasm approaching. You pushed yourself forward, letting your chest fall against Ethan’s face as you continued to ride your boyfriend’s thigh.

“That’s it baby,” he whispered huskily, “just imagine Rutger was here praising you, teasing you, fucking you so good.”

Your hands flew to Ethan’s hair, “Oh Eddy, fuck, Rut…” you moaned out blissfully as your thoughts ran wild, imagining Rutger in the room with you.

You didn’t have to imagine anymore though…

The door to the bedroom swung open, causing you and Ethan to snap your heads over in the direction of the sound of the door. Your eyes widened as you saw who was standing in the doorway.

Rutger.

You gasped softly and quickly removed yourself from Ethan, pulling down your mini skirt in the process. Rutgers mouth hung open as he looked at the scene in front of him. You and Ethan were getting it on in his bed, a sight he never thought he’d see. Rutger reached for the door handle as he slowly started to back out of his room.

“I-I’m so sorry guys, I didn’t know you were in here.”

You shifted, wincing slightly at the feeling of the wetness between your thighs that was only building now that Rutger was in the room. Rutger’s breath hitched in the back of his throat as his eyes wandered over your body. Your hair was messy and your shirt was pulled just low enough so that the top of your perky breasts were showing. But what really got him was the glistening wet spot on your inner thigh. Rutger could feel his arousal growing the longer he admired your current state.

You glanced over at Ethan, your eyes silently pleading with him as no words were exchanged. He knew exactly what you were thinking. Ethan eyed his teammate from the bed, smirking slightly as he noticed how flustered Rutger was at the fact that he had walked in on the two of you. The smirk on your boyfriend’s face only grew as he noticed Rutger not so subtly adjust himself. Ethan looked back at you and just nodded. You bit your lip in anticipation as you looked at Ethan. You leaned down to place a gentle peck on his lips as a silent thank you before you turned your attention to the Sophomore standing awkwardly in the doorway.

You sauntered over to Rutger, your heart was beating rapidly as you saw how his blue eyes filled with lust. You stood close to the boy, bringing your hand up to his chest and placing it firmly on his sternum.

“Don’t be sorry Rut,” you said, smiling sweetly, “I was kind of hoping you’d interrupt us.” You trailed your hand down his abdomen. Rutgers abs tensed beneath the feeling of your fingertips running over his muscle.

Rutger felt like he was in a dream.

He clenched his jaw as he looked down at your hand teasing his muscular abdomen. You maintained eye contact with the blonde as your finger traced the shape of each individual ab, making him shudder softly at your touch.

This was his chance.

Rutger knew he’d be the dumbest person on the planet if he turned down this opportunity you were handing to him on a silver platter. He hesitantly took his eyes away from

“Rut,” Ethan said, smirking at his teammate, “I don’t mind. I’ve seen the way you two have been looking at each other tonight. Make her feel good.”

Rutger felt his heart race at Ethan’s words. He wanted to make you feel so good. A night with you would be a night he’d never forget.

Ethan knew how much both you and Rutger wanted, no, needed this. He’d do it if it meant his friend would gain some experience and the love of his life got to live out one of her secret fantasies, fucking two hockey players at once. But not just any hockey players…

Himself and Rutger.

Rutger looked between you and Ethan, a smirk growing on his face as he did so. He backed up just enough to reach for the door. Rutger closed the door to his bedroom and locked it with one swift motion. Ethan leaned back on the bed, propping himself up on his elbows as he watched you and Rutger.

You wrapped your arms around the blonde, pushing yourself into his body as much as you could. Rutger placed his hands on your hips as you smashed your lips against his. Your hands came up to the nape of his neck as his tongue traced your bottom lip. You moaned into the kiss as Rutger brought a hand up to hold the side of your face as the two of you made out. Ethan watched his friend make out with his girlfriend for a couple minutes before he had enough of just watching. Ethan hopped off of the bed and came up behind you, placing his hands on your hips as he started to leave soft kisses on your shoulders before moving up your neck. You pulled yourself away from Rutgers mouth, his teeth tugging at your bottom lip as you detached your soft lips from his. You threw your head back and whimpered softly as both boys started to leave love bites on either side of your neck.

“Mmm,” you moaned out as you put a hand on Ethan and Rutgers heads, tugging at the strands of hair in your hands. It felt like absolute heaven being in between both of the hockey players.

Rutger gently squeezed your hip as he nipped softly at the sweet spot below your right ear. Ethan licked a strip up your neck before kissing along your jaw. You could already feel yourself becoming putty in the boys hands. Ethan pulled himself away from you. He hooked his fingers under your top, slowly pulling the leather fabric up your torso. You put your arms up to help Ethan take your top off as Rutger continued to attacked your neck with kisses, definitely leaving deep red and purple marks as he did so. Rutgers hands moved forward, his fingers fiddling with the waistband of your skirt. He hooked his fingers under the material and pulled it down your legs with one swift motion, leaving you in just your lacy undergarment’s that made both boys grow even more erect.

Rutger gently pushed you and Ethan, who was still attached to you, towards his bed. Ethan took himself away from you, pushing you down onto the bed. Both boys gazed at you lustfully as you propped yourself up on the mattress. Rutger threw his t-shirt off as Ethan unbuttoned his shirt. The two hockey players were soon undressed just like you were. The sexual tension only grew between the three of you as you waited for someone to make the next move. Ethan eyed you as a smirk spread across his face.

He had a perfect idea.

“Y/n,” Ethan said your name in a demanding tone, “lay on the bed.”

You did as he said, scooting up so you could lay against Rutgers pillows.

“Good girl.” Ethan purred as he eyed your figure. He placed a hand on Rutgers shoulder as the blonde wet his lips, blue eyes on your waiting body.

“You’ve said you’ve never given head before eh Rut?” Rutger nodded at his words. He knew exactly where Ethan was going with this. “Well bud,” Ethan pat Rutger on the back, “Now’s your chance.”

Your thighs clenched as you bit your lip in anticipation. Your thoughts from earlier were becoming a reality.

Rutger glanced at Ethan as he responded, “I-,” he hesitated as he averted his gaze to your clothed womanhood, “I don’t know how to, y’know…”

“That’s alright, Rut,” Ethan smirked, speaking huskily as he finished, “I’ll teach ya.”

You let out a soft whimper at your boyfriend’s words. The butterflies in your belly swarmed as the wetness between your thighs became more intense. Just the thought of Ethan teaching Rutger how to eat you out almost made you cum.

Ethan watched carefully as Rutger placed a hand on your knee, letting it slowly trail up your leg. Your breath hitched in the back of your throat as his fingertips danced along your inner thigh, brushing over the wetness on your panties. The feeling of Rutgers fingers brushing your clothed core just right had you already whimpering for more. Rutger chuckled at your reaction to his touch as he brought his hand up to the waistband of your lace panties. He hooked his fingers underneath the fabric, glancing between you and Ethan to make sure it was OK. The two of you nodded, but Ethan wouldn’t let that slide.

“Use words baby.”

“Yes Rut,” you needily pleaded at the boy between your thighs, “take ‘em off.”

Rutger pulled your panties away from your womanhood, sliding them down your legs as you adjusted your position to help him remove the fabric with ease. With lust filled eyes, both boys gazed at your naked body waiting patiently for them to touch you. Rutgers mouth watered at the sight of your glistening folds begging to be touched. He couldn’t wait to feel you on his tongue, to taste you.

Ethan placed a hand on your knee, making your thighs clench at the familiar feeling of your boyfriend’s comforting touch. He smirked at you as he pulled his hand away and placing it on Rutgers shoulder instead.

“Shes all yours Rut.” Ethan purred as he put his hand on his teammate. Rutger gulped nervously as he eyed your womanhood. A million thoughts were running through his head…

What if I’m not good enough?

What if she wants Ethan to take over?

What if I can’t please her, make her cum?

Ethan squeezing the blondes shoulder brought him out of his thoughts. Rutger glanced up at his friend, gulping again before looking back at you. You bit your lip in anticipation, growing impatient with Rutger and wanting to touch yourself to break the coil of pleasure already growing in your lower belly. You brought your hand down to your core, letting out a soft whimper as your index finger brushed against your throbbing clit.

“Don’t be a little slut,” Ethan scolded as he swatted your hand away from your clit, “Let Rut touch you pretty girl.”

Rutger looked up at Ethan, seeking your boyfriend’s approval before he touched you. Ethan gave him a nod, letting the boy between your thighs know that it was OK to touch you as much as he wanted.

Rutger let out a sigh before he slowly brought his face close to your aching core. He eyed you with his beautiful blues as he placed a gentle kiss on your inner thigh, making his way further up your leg until he got to your most intimate area. Rutger didn’t even hesitate as he went in for his first taste of you. The blonde flicked your clit with tongue before he licked a stripe up your soaked slit. He moaned into you, making your body jolt at the vibration.

Rutger loved how you tasted on his tongue. He already couldn’t get enough of you…

“Here Rut,” Ethan said, pushing the blonde out of the way, “do something like this…” He trailed off huskily as he shoved his face into you, lapping his tongue over your folds and sucking your clit with no hesitation. You gasped loudly at the feeling of your boyfriend’s tongue. It was a feeling you’d never get tired of, and adding Rutger’s into the mix was like pure bliss.

You brought your hands down to Ethan’s head of brown hair, pulling at the strands as he ate you out. He kissed your clit before pulling his head away from your dripping core. He licked your juices off his lips as he gestured for Rutger to take over. Rutger dove back into you the same way Ethan did. His tongue swirling over your folds, his mouth delicately sucking at your clit, and the sound of his moaning made that warmth pool in your belly more and more.

“God Y/n,” Rutger breathed out, “you taste so good. Better than I imagined.”

You whined at his words, feeling yourself pulse against the blondes mouth as he ate you out like a starved man enjoying his first meal in a long time. Rutger performed with such confidence and ease that you never would’ve guessed this was his first time.

“Oh- fuck..."you mewled at the feeling of Rutgers tongue working wonders around your soaked core. Ethan moaned at the sweet sounds you were making as his teammate pleased you. He wanted to touch you so badly, get a taste of you for himself, but he really enjoyed teaching Rutger how to properly please you. The blonde chuckled against your folds, the vibration sending what felt like an electric shock through your body as it made you jolt. Rutger brought his veiny hands up to your thighs, keeping your legs spread open as he buried his tongue into you. He moaned against your slit as the taste of your sweet juices hit his taste buds.

Ethan came up behind Rutger, eyeing you with a smirk as he spoke, “You’re doing amazing Rut. Look at her,” he praised as he gestured to your blissed out figure, chest heaving and soft whimpers escaping your lips every few seconds.

Such a beautiful sight.

“Why don’t you tease her a little, eh?” Ethan whispered into Rutgers ear before he got onto the bed and got behind you. Your boyfriend placed his hands on your biceps, holding you against him as your back arched from Rutgers movements. You moaned at the feeling of overwhelming pleasure.

Rutger took a hand off of your thigh, placing it onto your womanhood and letting his thumb rub circles against your clit. Your body jolted at the feeling. Rutger had a new sense of confidence as he continued to lap at your soaked core like he’s done it a million times before. It was insanely hot. The feeling of both Rutgers tongue and fingers sent you over the edge, turning you into a whimpering and quivering mess in no time.

“Fuck, fuck Rut.” You bucked your hips slightly as Rutgers quickened the pace of his fingers. He inserted a finger into your soaking core as Ethan slowly began to knead your breasts. You moaned loudly at the feeling of both boys each pleasuring you in a different way. Rutgers jaw clenched with each swipe of his tongue and the muscles in his forearm flexed with each stroke of his thumb. Your chest heaved as he licked a stripe up your core and added another finger.

“Eddy,” you moaned as you leaned back into your boyfriend’s touch, “s’ too much.” Your back arched and you bucked your hips from the flick of Rutgers tongue against your clit. Ethan toyed with your hard nipples, pinching the sensitive buds between his fingertips knowing that would send more waves of pleasure through you. Ethan chuckled softly, as he kissed at your neck.

“You can handle it baby.”

You whimpered as you brought your hands down to the back of Rutgers head. You gripped the ends of his blonde hair as you pushed him closer to your center. You don’t know what came over you, but you needed to feel more of him against you. Rutger panted against you, feeling your walls clench around his tongue as you grew close to your first orgasm of the night.

Ethan smirked as he looked down at you lying against him for support. He knew you were getting close to your release from the way the your chest rose and fell, and how your hips were bucking every time Rutgers tongue swirled over your clit.

You let out a few more whimpers, moaning each boys name in pleasure as you felt the familiar warmth in your lower belly. Soon enough, your chest was heaving as it all came crashing down, that coil finally snapping causing you to be overcome with complete pleasure and bliss. Rutger lapped up your juices with his tongue, pulling his face away from your soaked core. He licked his lips dry, making sure to get every last drop of you into his mouth. Ethan and Rutger both wore proud smirks on their faces as they watched you come down from your orgasmic high.

However, they weren’t quite done with you yet.

“Oh my god Rut,” you breathed out blissfully as your chest heaved, “that was amazing.” Rutger smirked down at you as he sucked your cum off his fingers, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You were still recovering from the orgasm Rutger gave you when Ethan pulled you up into a sitting position before crashing his lips onto yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck, trailing your hands down his back as your nails dug into his skin. You detached your lips from his as Rutger came up behind you, placing his palms against your tummy. Your boyfriend began to kiss your neck, causing you to mewl softly at the feeling of his lips sucking your skin. You craned your neck to capture Rutgers lips in a passionate kiss. You could still taste yourself on his lips. As their toned bodies were pressed against yours, you could feel Ethan and Rutgers erections poking at your thigh.

You pulled away from Rutger, smirking up at the blonde right wing as your hand traveled south, brushing over his clothed erection as you spoke, "Your turn, Rut." you purred sultrily.

Rutger bit his lip in anticipation and winced softly at your touch. He felt like the luckiest guy in the world right now. He had been fantasizing about this moment since the day he met you.

"May I?" You asked, gesturing to his undergarments. Rutger couldn't form words, so he just nodded.

He needed you so bad. He needed to feel your soft lips around him.

Rutger helped you remove his tight black boxers from his body. Once the boxers were removed from his waist, Rutgers impressive length sprang free and hit his stomach. You were even more turned on than you already were. Rutger couldn’t hold back from slowly stroking himself as he watched your sensual movements with Ethan next. You turned to your boyfriend, eyeing him and biting your lip as you palmed his length in one hand while you hooked your other fingers under the waistband of his boxers. You pulled his boxers down, mouth watering at the sight of his throbbing cock springing free from its restraint.

“God Eth, I need you inside of me right now.”

Ethan smirked as he moved positions on the bed. He was on his knees, waiting for you to join him, “I’m all yours sweets.”

You got situated on the bed, making eye contact with Rutger who was still stroking himself, and motioning for him to join you and Ethan. Rutger came closer before stopping at the foot of the bed. He joined the two of you on the bed, his position mimicking Ethan’s who was straight across from him. Rutger looked down at you as his eyes filled with lust.

“She looks so pretty between us, doesn’t she Eddy?”

“She does.” Ethan mused as he brought a hand down to your head, stroking his fingers through your hair gently, “Our beautiful girl.”

“Shit.” You moaned out breathlessly as the butterflies swarmed in your belly. Their praises had your knees weak and heart beating rapidly once again and they hadn’t even touched you. Rutger looked between you and Ethan with a serious look on his face as he spoke.

“Before this goes any further, if at any point you want this to stop, just tell me-.” You brought a finger up to Rutgers mouth, shushing him softly.“Rut, it’s OK. We want this just as much as you.” Ethan nodded in agreement, “She’s right.”

You smiled softly at the blonde as you removed your finger from his lips. “Now shut up and let me give you what you’ve been waiting so patiently for.”

You gazed hungrily at him just like he did at you moments ago when you were the one being pleasured. You bit down on your bottom lip as you placed your manicured hands on Rutgers thick, muscular thighs, spreading them apart as you slowly leaned down. Rutger closed his eyes as he waited for the feeling of your lips around him. You brought your lips down around the tip of his dick, pulling them off with a pop as your tongue teased his slit, licking the pre-cum off of the red tip. Between the feeling of your warm breath and your tongue toying with his tip, Rutger threw his head back.

"Fuck," he let out a throaty moan as you slowly took more of him into your mouth. Ethan let out a soft moan at the sight of you sucking off his teammate. He gripped your hips to steady you as he pushed himself into your dripping slit from behind.

"Fuck, Y/n-," Rutger grunted out as you spit on his dick, jerking him off with your lips still around him. Rutger swore he’s never felt pleasure like this before. You bobbed your head and moaned loudly around Rutgers cock as Ethan thrusted into you. "You're doing so good," Ethan praised from behind you as you gagged slightly from the feeling of Rutgers cock pushing further down your throat. "So good taking both of us, baby.”

Ethan’s husky voice and the words he uttered down at you made you moan against Rutger. Rutger brought his hands down to your head, pushing your head closer to his manhood. He bucked his hips towards you at the feeling of your lips vibrating against his sensitive, hard cock. Ethan brought a hand around to your front, harshly kneaded your left breast as his thumb and index finger pinched your sensitive, hard nipple. He did the same thing to your right breast as he continued to thrust into you.

"God," Ethan grunted out as your walls clenched around his cock, "You feel so good." His grunts mixed with the sounds of all of your moans and skin hitting skin. Each thrust of your boyfriend’s hips grew deeper, the tip of his cock hitting your cervix repeatedly made your body jolt with pleasure. You panted against Rutger, removing your mouth from his erection to stroke him instead. “Shit, shit,” Rutger whimpered out as his eyes clenched shut, “faster Y/n.”

Ethan continued to fuck you senseless as you picked up your pace with his teammate. The sounds and smell of sex filled Rutgers room. The three of you were moaning and whimpering messes as the pace quickened even more.

You were positive that this is what heaven feels like.

You felt a familiar warmth pool in your lower belly as you were reaching your climax. You were so close.

"I'm so close." You practically whined as Ethan picked up the pace of his rough thrusts. Soon enough, your walls were clenching around his cock. Rutger groaned softly as he nodded, “Me too.” his broad chest heaved up and down as he panted from the anticipation of his orgasm. Rutgers confession made you pull your hand away from his length and take him in your mouth once again. You could tell he was growing closer to his release because every time you bobbed your head you could feel his cock twitch in your mouth. Rutgers face contorted into a look of pleasure. He let out a few grunts as he came undone in your mouth.

“Oh Y/n, fuck. Yes.” He panted as spurts of his hot cum filled your mouth. You swallowed every drop of him instantly as you pulled your mouth off of the blonde in front of you. You brought Rutger into a state of pure bliss and gave him the experience he’s been begging for since his first time. As Rutger recovered from his earth shattering orgasm, you and Ethan continued until the all the built up pleasure came crumbling down.

"That's it," Ethan pleaded, his chest heaving as he panted, "cum for me pretty girl." He continued to pound into you, making sure you felt every single inch of him. The feeling of his large cock filling you up made moan in pleasure. You came down harshly on your boyfriend’s cock as you loudly moaned his and Rutgers name. You didn’t care that your moaning was loud, you knew the music downstairs was too loud, so nobody would hear you anyways.

Your chest heaved up and down. You were completely blissed out as Ethan continued to pump into you. He reached his climax shortly after you, groaning, and gripping onto your thighs as spurts of his hot cum filled your insides. The three of you fucked so hard that you were all completely blissed out and not able to think straight.

That was even better than the three of you could’ve ever imagined.

After your breathing evened out and became regular once again, the boys got off the bed and put on their boxers. They went into the bathroom to get a warm washcloth to clean off you up a bit. The three of you were covered in sweat and cum, a perfect combination in Rutger and Ethan’s eyes. Rutger cleaned you up as Ethan helped dress you in your undergarments that had been thrown to the side earlier. Once the three of you were cleaned up and dressed, you plopped down on Rutgers bed, letting out a content sigh as your head hit his pillow. Ethan chuckled at you as he plopped down on the bed beside you.

Rutger rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly as he watched you and Ethan lay down on his bed. He wasn’t sure if it was acceptable to join you or not. He did just have sex with you, but he was unsure if post sex cuddling with you was acceptable. He’d leave that for Ethan.

“That was a lot of fun guys, but I’ll uh, I’ll leave you two if you-.” “Come on Rut, I want you both here.” You said, cutting the blonde boy off and patting the empty side of the bed closest to the wall.

He couldn’t say no to you.

Rutger smiled softly and climbed into bed with you and Ethan. Once he was settled in bed you grabbed Ethan’s hand, entwining your fingers with his as you wrapped his arm around your waist. You snuggled into Rutgers chest, placing as a soft kiss on his pec as you laid against him.

“How you doin Rut?” Ethan asked, glancing at his teammate with a knowing smile. Rutger gave the same smile, “Amazing.”

Ethan chuckled as he laid back down and nuzzled into your neck. You brought a hand up to scratch his scalp, the brunette boy humming in content at the feeling of your nails on his scalp. You placed another kiss on Ethan’s head before you spoke.

“Let us know when you want us to leave. We’ll go back down and pretend this never happened.” You chuckled, making Rutger let out a laugh. He stroked your arms softly as he spoke, “You guys can stay here, I don’t mind. I enjoy the company. Ethan chuckled in response, “Besides, we’ve already been gone long enough for the guys to be suspicious, we might as well stay.”

“They’re probably too drunk to even realize we’re gone.” You replied as you snuggled further into Rutger and Ethan’s touch. The boys nodded in agreement, knowing you had a point. Nobody probably even noticed the three of you had disappeared to Rutgers room.

The only thing they were focused on was dancing to Digital Animal and downing their fifth drink of the night. You, Ethan and Rutger however had your own things you were focused on for the night—fulfilling fantasies and giving experience

Both of those things were achieved tonight just from one simple game of truth or dare, and you were sure it wouldn’t be the last time this happened…

hi loves!!

AHHHHH I CANT BELIEVE I DID THAT. THIS WAS THE NASTIEST LONGEST BEST FIC IVE EVER WRITTEN. i have never done a threesome fic before so hopefully it was good enough for you ethan and rutger girlies😉

i love both ethan and rutger so much, so i thought id take one for the team and supply the fic we all secretly have been wanting…or maybe it’s just a fic i have secretly been wanting LOL. ALSO THIS WAS NOT EDITED A LOT I APOLOGIZE FOR ERRORS, i gave up halfway for editing lol. anyways i hope you all enjoyed this! if you didn’t, please be kind. i never claimed to be the greatest smut writer, so please be kind🤍

thank you for all the love and support babes!! you are all amazing and i love each and every single one of you—especially my hockey girls! i’m so thankful for all of you🤍 also this won’t be the last time i write for eddy & rut…there’s plenty more coming ;)

okay that’s all i have to say, i love you all & have the best day ever🫂🤍

tags: @chillspritecranberry @mxqlss @emaanemaa @bernelflo @dancerbailey3 @countrygirl120983 @itsnotgray @snugglebug-92 @loveforaugust

*bold means it wouldn’t let me tag you for some reason, i’m sorry!*

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babymagiclotion · 9 months

Text

━ 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 — silverfox!DBF!sidney crosby x reader 𝐰𝐜 — 4.4k 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 — it may not be the right plant, but it's close enough to justify upholding the festive tradition.

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — i have no explanation for this, but i don't think it needs one. i think it's pretty obvious i... indulged before sitting down to write

18+ MDNI | content warnings under the cut.

𝐜𝐰 — unspecified age gap (everyone's legal, dw), smokin' grass (oiud, a joint, mary jane, whichever term you want to use), 18+ content — innocence/corruption kink, adult language/dirty talk, sexual activity under the influence between two consenting adults, fingering (r), oral (r), slight exhibitionism kink, unprotected p in v + creampie (a very merry chrysler to you)

THE BATHROOM DOOR swings open before you can snub it out against the windowsill.

Your heart lurches against your sternum.

You could’ve tossed the joint out into your mother’s rose bushes, and it still wouldn’t have mattered. If the hazy cloud didn’t make it obvious, the potent smell certainly did. And, unfortunately for you, the window above the toilet is barely wide enough to accommodate your arm, let alone act as an escape route.

Hesitantly—and crossing your fingers it isn’t either of your parents or uptight Aunt Karen—you pivot on the balls of your feet.

Standing in the doorway is Sidney Crosby. A wealthy bachelor and the recent purchaser of 239 Cherry Lane, the picturesque two-story with a white-picket fence two doors down from your childhood home.

And your father’s newly minted best friend.

You hadn’t spent any time with him yet, having been hunkered down wrapping up your final semester of graduate school, but from the stories you heard, you felt as though you had.

Mainly from your mother, who complained incessantly about the poker nights, fishing trips, and the Penguins tickets that stole him away during your weekly mother-daughter phone calls.

You thought it was nice that this stranger cared. A very handsome stranger—but you already knew that.

The way you saw it, there's no harm done in introducing a few of his Facebook and LinkedIn photos into the visual rotation during your nocturnal... endeavors.

What he—and your parents—didn't know wouldn't kill them.

By now, you’ve come undone to the licks of silver at his temples and the thick bulge of his experienced body, namely his corded forearms, more times than you’d ever admit. You fantasized often about the web of veins and how it might feel pressed against your stomach as he pet you from the inside out. Or how erotic the moonlight would look, crawling through the valleys of his firm muscles as he cages you beneath him, entirely at his mercy.

The intimate acts of your overactive imagination were to blame for a false sense of familiarity, no matter how or if you pretended otherwise.

“It’s medicinal?” you offer meekly.

His expression is hard, unconvinced.

With a sigh, you concede. The milky fog was starting to waft into the hallway anyway. If you don’t act quickly, someone else might follow the trail and discover your illicit habit.

So, you try your hand at honesty. “Not technically prescribed by a medical professional per se, but I use it that way. I have terrible migraines. And anxiety.” When Sidney still doesn’t respond, your mouth keeps running. “With the holidays and finals and everything else... I just needed to take the edge off. Just—just please shut the door.”

He does.

Behind himself.

“Please,” you murmur, voice falling soft. You have an inkling as to why he’s trapped you in here with him, and you desperately hope you’re right. You sweeten your voice, “Please, don’t tell anyone.”

In the midst of your appeal, the hem of your skirt jumped into the pocket fashioned out of your upper thighs and lower abdomen. If your mother could see you now, she’d scold you for creating such an indecent, unladylike display. She’d call you rude for "burdening a gentleman with your sensuality."

Mr. Crosby doesn't seem to mind.

You can tell he’s enjoying the view; his gaze is steady as he shamelessly assesses your body. Crouching on top of the toilet seat begins to feel like kneeling centerstage. When his exploration ceases—for the time being—his eyes are impossibly dark, inky with lust.

Even from your perch, you can tell he's big. Far larger than anyone you've been with previously. He is going to wreck you forever; you need to be ruined for anyone else. His heavy, unwavering stare has placed you on the cusp of a freefall; there's no going back now. Once he touches you, it's over for anyone else.

You're giddy, laser-focused on the outline of his erection, impossible to ignore as it twitches beneath his immaculately pressed slacks.

“I won’t,” he promises and takes a step closer. “So long as you share.”

“You get high?”

It comes out more crassly than you intend. Embarrassment creeps over the bridge of your nose, burning the skin from the inside out.

“Don’t look so surprised,” Sidney chuckles, mercifully un-offended.

You drink in the rich sound with the intention of drowning in it.

Sidney lowers himself onto the ground beside your feet, his back against the wall. He starts talking again, looking up at you through his eyelashes, “I was getting stoned before you were even born, kid.”

Your thighs rub at the pet name. Your body clenches around nothing. No one had ever called you that before, at least not in this way, let alone someone as attractive as your father's best friend.

You never could have anticipated how viscerally your body would react to such an overtly corrupt term of endearment—it's incredible.

He catches the subtle shift in your demeanor and smirks.

Desperate to distract him, you hold out the joint. “Here.”

He takes it.

“Cute,” Sidney muses at the novelty hemp paper.

Your face warms, suddenly feeling much younger than you are. Head empty and body heavy, you're stuck between floating and falling.

The polka-dots, which felt like a fun idea at the time of purchase, now make you want to bury your head into the decorative hand towels by the sink.

You don't want to be cute. Not now, maybe not ever. And definitely not in the eyes of Sidney Crosby.

Men like him don’t fuck “cute."

“Could use some work, but you’ll learn. Over time,” he says, tone carefully neutral, as he puffs out the residual smoke and moves the joint between his fingers.

He’s not trying to be cruel or to embarrass you further. Just making an observation; it wasn’t balanced, too thick at one end. You’ve done better, and you’ve done worse.

Sidney holds it out to you. You slide down onto the floor to retrieve it, but as you move to take it back, Sidney clicks his tongue.

Only when he lifts it a bit higher do you understand what he wants from you.

Slowly, you lean over his massive thigh and wrap your lips around the joint. Your body trembles, and you try to focus on the comforting taste of the rolling paper to soothe yourself.

He brings your palm to his quad to steady you, but it only makes the nerves worse.

“Inhale,” he whispers into your hair.

Compelled by his voice or reflex, your body obeys.

His free thumb coasts along your jaw, keeping you in place while you get your fill. Hunched over his lap, his intimidating bulge is directly below your chest. If you bent down any lower, you’d be resting right on it.

You (more than) like the idea but still aren't unsure if he wants to act on the mutual—and palpable—desire. Maybe he's feeling particularly responsible tonight.

But maybe he's feeling irresponsible instead.

You lean away once you’ve inhaled enough, pursed lips falling away from the damp paper. Before you can open your mouth to release the cloud, Sidney lifts your chin.

“Hold it for me. That's it, kid—just like that."

Your exhalation is mortifying. Choked and rough, it’s worse than the first time you tried your hand at Ron Slaters’ bong in his parents’ basement. You felt like a novice who couldn’t match their bite up with their bark.

For someone with a habit, you weren’t behaving like it.

Sidney’s smile is one of gentle amusement as he gently rubs your lower back.

Though not at your expense. It's the sound of fondness, the affectionate kind of touch—the kind that encourages you to do something you might regret.

“Please,” you beg, nose brushing against his.

You begged him earlier, but for something mostly innocent: to keep a secret. Now, you’re begging him to be one.

“Please, what, kid?” Sidney whispers.

His breath is humid on your skin. He closes some of the distance, but not all. He wants this—wants you, but he's careful about how he conveys it. Decades your senior, he’s more patient and calculated than you are, or are even capable of being.

“Tell me what you want. I need to hear you say it plainly before I touch you. I won’t if you have any doubts. Can’t have any wires getting crossed.”

“Please—kiss me.”

“That’s it?” he teases. “You could’ve gotten a kiss earlier when we were under the mistletoe at your front door.”

He knows damn well why you hadn’t kissed him then. Your father appeared with a beer before you could even exchange pleasantries. But you’re too needy to fight with him over minor details. At least, not right now.

“I need you to touch me, please. Anywhere—everywhere. Want you so badly. I’ll take anything you give me. I promise I’ll be so good for you, Mr. Crosby.”

Your pleas stun you both.

He growls at the moniker, eyes darkening. “Such a filthy mouth for such a sweet little girl. I wonder how well it handles cock."

Immediately, your hands jump to his belt. Sidney catches your wrists and shakes his head. You whimper, pouting like a petulant child.

Sensory input is amplified tenfold now, and just the firm grip of his large, strong hand sets off a million tiny fireworks beneath your skin. Your emotions are intensified, too. His intervention is discouraging, and it leaves you feeling juvenile, small and dejected.

“I want to find out what you taste like, princess. I want to see if you taste as good as you look,” Sidney explains. “Will you let me?”

A nod is all he needs.

You’re pliant in his hold as he pulls you up to stand. Still holding your wrists in his palm, he turns the sink on and tosses the shrunken joint into the puddle that forms.

Then, Sidney walks you backward until you’re pinned between the cold wall and his warm chest. He leans into you further, lips finally drawing yours into a surprisingly chaste kiss.

He tastes like eggnog and weed—your new favorite flavor.

You whine as he pulls away but go quiet when he sinks down onto his knees.

Sidney grabs your left ankle, gently placing your foot onto the porcelain lid that was formerly your throne.

A cool rush of air mingles with the mind-altering buzz from your strain of choice, making you feel as if you’ve been on vibrate for hours.

The intensity of your arousal prevents you from realizing how quickly the situation has devolved into depravity.

“No panties?” Sidney tsks as his thumbs stroke your inner thighs. “Maybe you aren’t as sweet and innocent as you want people to believe you are.”

“I don’t like how suffocating they feel,” you mumble in response.

Bashful, like you’ve done something naughty. And maybe you had…

“Oh, I believe you; pussies this ripe need to breathe,” he says with a bout of quiet laughter.

After his palms push your thighs further apart, his dry chuckle morphs into an awestruck sigh.

“My God, you have the prettiest cunt I’ve ever seen, kid. Even through your tights, I can tell. Could probably tell with my eyes closed—you smell that sweet. Your little hole is already weeping for me, ’s so wet and ready. Can I get a better look, princess? Are you gonna let me rip these open and lick you real good?”

Chest heaving, you nod.

“Words, kid. I need words.”

“Yes, Mr. Crosby—rip my tights and let me feel your tongue,” you moan into the ceiling.

“There's my good girl.”

You aren’t sure if it's the praise or the possessive edge to his voice or the thundering tear that sends your hands carding through his salt and pepper hair, but you know it's his lips ghosting over your clit that warrants the harsh tug.

Sidney hisses, but the pain only encourages him to consume you fully.

Eventually, his thumb takes over on behalf of his mouth. He rests his cheek against your thigh, those wide, chocolatey eyes boring into yours. “I want to feel you squeeze my tongue while you’re cumming. Ride my face, bump that cute clit against my nose—use me to get yourself off. Show me how filthy my girl can be."

And you do, passionately bucking your hips with reckless abandon. You’re locked on the thrill; the danger crumbles away. The floor drops out from under your feet.

Sidney remains latched to your folds, tongue deep and wide, lapping up your orgasm like a starved man.

“You know, you’ve got some good tricks.” Your compliment is mostly air, expression placid. But the light jab that follows is all husk. “—for an old man.”

Sidney chuckles as he swipes his thumb across his bottom lip, now both glistening with the evidence of your undoing. He catches you staring and dips the finger into his mouth, savoring the last few drops as he corners you.

You gulp, shocked by his brazen display and intimidated by his closeness.

“Have you ever been with an old man, princess, or am I your first?”

The way his voice drops off into the question reminds you of summer camp. Like you’d chosen truth over dare and now had to admit to your entire cabin that you were still a virgin. Like Josh Meyers noticed your hands were shaking as you fumbled with his belt in the backseat of his Land Rover.

This time, you hesitate because the answer isn’t simple anymore. The admission gets caught in your throat, so you nod. Your gaze droops to the bathroom floor as you wait for the door to click shut.

You anticipate losing your appeal for him because he won’t get to claim anything special for the effort.

“Naughty girl,” Sidney chides from behind a toothy grin as his blunt fingers prod at your sensitive entrance. You gasp as he pushes a few in. “Who was he? Anyone I would know?”

You shake your head. His chin dips.

Sidney coaxes more details out of you with a flick of his wrist. His digits curl up, the pads of his fingers massaging that delicious, spongy spot.

“My Russian Literature professor last semester. After I handed in my final.”

Even though he's knuckle-deep, you feel the need to clarify the timeline. As if he was going to be disappointed in you if you seduced your professor sooner, unbothered by the risk your wonton behavior posed for the man.

If anything, Sidney looks enraptured by your vulgar candor.

Emboldened, you tack on salacious details. “Directly after I handed in my final. At the front of the empty lecture hall on his desk. Over it, actually. He told me he prefers fucking his students from behind so they can keep watch while he loses himself. Anyone could’ve walked in, but I didn’t care. I needed to feel him too badly, and I’d been forced to wait all semester.”

“That must’ve been so hard, huh?” he muses, tone violently patronizing.

Your hips buck in his hand. You like that he speaks to you like he knows more than you—knows better than you.

Like he should make your choices for you.

His smile twists, “Poor baby had to be patient to get what she wanted rather than just having it handed to her on a silver platter? I can’t imagine how badly this greedy little cunt,” Sidney swirls your clit for emphasis, and your stomach jolts, “...ached every day that you weren’t stuffed to the brim with an older man’s cum.

Don’t worry, princess, you won’t have to wait very long to feel the stretch of my big cock. Or the flood of my seed. Just a little bit longer, okay? You can wait for me, can’t you? You need to give me another before I can fuck you. Need you nice and relaxed—receptive.”

Dumbly, you bob your head.

He drags his unoccupied thumb over your closed lips. Languidly, from corner to corner. In the middle, he lingers on your cupid's bow as if committing the feel of it to memory. Then, his thumb fixes itself on the lax seam of your lips. It doesn’t take any effort to slot the tip inside. He rests atop your bottom teeth.

Tentatively, your tongue slips forward to greet him. When you make contact, Sidney groans. He shoves the digit forward, causing you to gag in surprise. With the rest of his fingers wrapped around your chin and jaw, his thumb starts gently massaging your tongue.

Sidney is fucking you at both ends.

“So easy—already broken in,” he hums.

It feels like an insult (because it probably is), but your nipples pebble all the same. He notices and grinds his bulge against your stocking-clad thigh.

“I didn’t even need to say anything. You already knew exactly what to do. And you’re doing such a good job sucking on it. Blowing my thumb while you hump my palm like the good little bitch you are. Make yourself gush, little girl. Get my hand nice and soaked so I can play with that pretty clit as I pound your hole.”

You want him to fuck you so badly you’ll do anything he tells you to.

And he knows it, too.

Your walls constrict around the three fingers you’ve eagerly welcomed between your thighs, and, as if on command, the tight knot in your stomach snaps. Your vision goes fuzzy around the edges as you flood his hand.

“My little girl likes my filthy words, doesn’t she?” Sidney coos. He wrenches his thumb from your mouth so he can hear you whimper a small affirmation. “I bet I could make you come apart with them alone, don’t you? This pussy knows its master—knows the sound of his voice.”

Sidney devours your wide eyes. His meaty tongue, the one that lapped at your folds minutes ago, pokes at his cheek. With his head cocked to the side with delight, he hits the last nail in your coffin.

One hand beside your head on the wall and the other still buried in the warmth between your legs, he asks, “What would your parents say if they knew their perfect princess seduces older men for sport? Men older than her own father?”

You’re writhing now, drowning in sweltering euphoria. The words coming from your mouth are barely there, and the sentences they attempt to form are incoherent.

Sidney revels in your blank stare and tacky cheeks. He’s barely started, and he's already fucked you dumb. Now, he’s going to reap his reward.

“A girl like you needs a man. A boy your age wouldn’t know what to do with you,” he moans, fishing out his cock.

Sidney strokes himself a few times as you watch. He teases your clit with the bulbous head, hissing as he does. Soon, Sidney lines himself up with your entrance but only pushes in an inch or so.

Too shallow, too empty.

Desperately, you claw at his sweater-clad shoulders, begging for more. Sidney takes pity on you and sheathes himself, hips flush to yours with one stroke.

You shriek into his chest at the dull pressure.

He burrows his head into the crook of your neck. His teeth graze your pulse point as he kisses his way up to your ear. Sidney's words are stifling.

“They’re too inexperienced, too young. They can’t give you what you want. What your body needs. A good girl like you deserves to be fucked the way she craves. Dirty and hard. I am the only one capable of that.”

You nod your agreement, body limp between him and the bathroom wall.

A ragdoll at best.

Sidney is caressing parts of yourself you hadn’t known existed, and each with little fanfare. He moves, and you fall apart at the seams. He breathes, and you crumble at his feet. He looks your way, and you kneel at his altar. You get lost in the moment and in your own head. In his dark brown eyes and upturned mouth.

After two orgasms and over half of a joint, you’re incredibly sensitive. On the brink. Your third peak arises far sooner than you’re accustomed to, inner walls fluttering around his length as the tip rubs them so tenderly.

Sidney grabs hold of your chin and forces you to show him; he wants to watch your ruin.

He looks like he’s about to say something—no doubt something that would make you feel as though you needed to repent tomorrow morning—but he’s interrupted before he can.

By your father.

“Sweetheart, I know you’re lighting up in there. I can smell it from out here. You know I don’t care, but your mother does. Even more, considering we have guests over.”

He sounds defeated. Your mother probably yanked him from the garage (see: the makeshift man cave) so she wouldn’t have to deal with it.

“Finish up and get back out here. The Finnegans have been waiting to talk to you about a lead on a job since they arrived half an hour ago. And you haven’t said hello to Ben yet.”

You dig your teeth into your bottom lip so hard that it splits open. Sidney’s thumb pushes down harder on your clit; he laps up the beads of crimson.

“Go on, little girl. Your father’s talking to you,” he whispers against your skin.

His hips slow, but never stop. Relentless. He nips your earlobe, then your pulse point, before settling his incisors into what of your shoulder the hideous sweater allows. Sidney pacifies the angry indentations with the tip of his tongue before continuing to taunt you.

“It would be very, very rude not to acknowledge him. And you’re not rude, are you? Tell him you’re so close to finishing. Be a good girl for me and repeat exactly that. We wouldn’t want to keep Ben waiting, now would we?”

Jealousy is rolling off of his body in brutal waves.

As if you’d trade him out for a boyish loser you broke up with in high school. That might've been nearly a decade ago, and you doubted he’d matured any since then.

Besides, why would you bother with him when you already had the perfect man rutting into you like it's his last night on Earth?

“I-I hear you, I’m almost done,” you croak. Sidney takes issue with your diction and nips at your ear once more. A warning—the first and last. You rephrase, “I’m almost finished. T-hen, I need a m-minute to clean myself up. But I’ll be right out! Promise!”

Writing off the stuttering as a guilty tick, your father retreats.

Sidney waits to speak until you can no longer hear his footsteps padding down the hall.

“Atta girl,” he says sweetly against your brow. “Taking me so deep with your own father on the other side of the door. Me, his best friend. You’re fucking yourself with his best friend’s cock. You’re going to cream all over his cock, too, aren’t you? You dirty fucking slut. C’mon, use your words. Tell me how your slutty little pussy is going to cream all over my huge cock and then milk it dry.”

“Mr. Crosby—Sidney…” you whine. Just his name pouring from your mouth sends him to the edge. “’m going to cum all over your cock. I’m so fucking close to creaming all over your cock. My s-slutty little pussy is going to milk you dry—fuck—milk it until you’re empty.”

“If your pussy does a good job and swallows all of it, I might just keep you,” he rasps. “Hell, I might keep you regardless. This is the hottest, tightest pussy I’ve ever been inside. I couldn’t give that up, and I don't think I will. You don't mind if I keep you, do you, princess?”

You whimper with delight. After tasting forbidden fruit, you weren’t sure you could go without. It's a relief to know you won’t have to.

Sidney will take care of you.

“Of course, you wouldn’t. That was your intention all along, wasn’t it, naughty girl? You were practically eye-fucking me when you answered the door. But don't give yourself too much credit, kid. I’ve been waiting to get you alone—to have you to myself—all evening. How could I not follow you back here?

Now that I have you, I’m going to make you cum, and then, I’m going to make you taste yourself. I want you to know what your fucked-out cunt tastes like after taking a fat, creamy load from your dad’s best friend.”

What happens next feels like being thrust into the eye of a storm after spending days in the thick of the destruction. Brilliant clarity. A breath of fresh air you hadn’t known you required. But you aren’t the one in control, and neither is he. You’re both at the mercy of carnal desire. Like a puppet on a string, you succumb to its power, letting go of everything you were holding back. You give, and you give until there’s nothing left but wobbly knees and labored breathing.

When his forehead kisses yours, you welcome the newfound warmth spreading below your navel. You clench down. Yes, to milk him as you promised, but also to prevent him from leaving before you're ready. As if you'd ever be. He’d have to go eventually; someone would come looking for one or both of you, but not yet.

“Let’s have a taste, shall we?” he whispers after a few minutes of relative quiet.

That's not really what he’s asking. He wants to know if you’re okay with him sliding out. Reluctant but enticed by the idea, you nod.

True to his word, Sidney sinks onto the floor to slot himself between your knees. His warm palms graze your skin from ankle to knee, then back down again. He pushes your wrinkled skirt into your shaking hands before nudging your legs further apart with his own palms.

Sidney sighs with contentment as he takes in the mess you made together. He dives in without letting another moment pass.

“Delicious—I could drink from you all night,” he hums against your sopping-wet folds.

Sidney drags his tongue across your heat a few more times before standing.

“Open,” he demands.

You comply, and he hooks open your mouth with his pointer finger. Sidney’s face brushes yours as he spits the evidence of your tryst down your sore throat. Your knees weaken, your body relaxing in the afterglow of the ephemeral high.

“All clean,” he says, smug as ever.

He pecks your cheek and steps back.

With a wink, Sidney adds, “Mistletoe is my favorite holiday tradition.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not what we were smoking,” you quip, breathless.

Mr. Crosby's lips curl at the ends. He fucked you good and hard, and, still, you have cheek to spare.

He's going to have fun with you.

“I’ll be at your father’s poker night on Wednesday," is all he says before stepping out into the dim hallway.

Sidney shuts the door, and, like the first time, he's standing on the wrong side of it.

As he retreats, his cum drips down your inner thighs.

Your body trembles with anticipation; he wants to see you again.

Soon.

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babymagiclotion · 9 months

Text

━ 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄

˗ˏˋ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ˎˊ˗

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 — best friend!jack hughes x reader 𝐰𝐜 — 2.3k 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 — in order to avoid the annual interrogation into his love life, jack hughes enlists his longtime friend to be his totally platonic plus-one for the holidays.

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — this is so cavity-inducing it makes me sick (affectionate) and why did i do the boys so dirty in this oml

“Why is Luke hitting on your girlfriend?”

Jack Hughes groans.

Not this shit again.

Was it really that strange for him to bring a friend home for the holidays?

A strictly platonic, no ulterior motives friend. A good friend, one who also saw him as nothing more than a friend.

He didn’t think so, but with how his family reacted, you would have thought he rode in on a unicycle dressed like a clown. All he did was invite a plus-one.

Sure, it was the first time since high school, but still. The sky didn’t turn purple, and Jack was pretty sure the planet would keep spinning. Not to mention, this is exactly what they wanted.

His family pestered him relentlessly about his love life—or, more accurately, a lack thereof—so he assumed they’d shift their interrogation to one or both of his brothers if he brought someone home, romantic or not.

The whole point of a “holidate” (you) tagging along was to avoid questions, not elicit more. His plan was back-firing.

Epically.

Though less evident in your presence, not once had anyone asked him something unrelated to you.

His great-aunt wanted to know how he asked you to be his girlfriend, and Husband #4 wanted to know how he tricked you into going out with him in the first place.

(Jack was offended by this. He thinks himself to be quite a catch.)

His gaggle of younger cousins needed to know when the wedding was and if they’d get to be in it, a line of questioning that quickly evolved into an open audition for Flower Girls and Ring Bearers.

The older ones weren’t any better. Their onslaught was overtly critical and lacked the endearing innocence of its predecessor. One had a problem with the gift he picked out for you (it wasn’t “romantic enough,” as if a sixteen-year-old even knew what that meant), and another was disappointed he hadn’t taken advantage of the mistletoe above the garage door. A few swiftly agreed you were too good for him after Jack let slip you decorated his apartment because he was too busy—and aesthetically-challenged.

His nana asked if he had "acquired a ring yet." When he told her he hadn’t, she offered one straight off her finger before he could explain why jewelry wasn’t necessary. She then launched into a spirited pitch for “finally getting some grandbabies.”

Apparently, the rest of his family had a hefty bet going on who out of the three brothers would settle down first. Quinn, by default as the eldest, seemed like a sure thing for a few years, but seeing as his date for this year’s Christmas Eve dinner was a six-pack of Bud Light, it wasn’t challenging to put Jack, unwittingly, in the lead.

“For the millionth time, she is not my girlfriend,” Jack replies, not bothering to water down his irritation.

His older brother was annoying, so that did factor into his sour mood, but Jack was mainly frustrated with his younger brother for robbing him of his holidate and monopolizing her charm for his gain.

If Luke wanted someone to cart around the room, he should’ve brought one of his own instead of stealing his. You agreed to be Jack’s smoke and mirrors, not his little brother’s.

The thief has you roped into a conversation with a second cousin’s fiancé surrounding her impending nuptials. He knows this because the interaction began with her holding out her left hand so you could admire the massive rock weighing down her ring finger. You’re listening attentively as she goes on and on about the frivolous details. At one point, she pulls out her phone to show you something, and you visibly and genuinely gush, a hand over your heart.

Luke looks bored but satisfied with himself.

Jack would be, too, if he had you as a human shield. Without a buffer, he was fair game.

Quinn smirks. “True, but you want her to be. Oh, that reminds me. If you are actually as platonic as you claim to be, you might want to remind Mom you need separate beds before she auctions off our guest room to the drunkest bidder. Unless, of course, curling up on Spider-Man sheets directly in front of a lifesize cardboard cutout of Crosby is some kind of freaky kink of yours.”

“Fuck off,” Jack hisses as he shoves his brother away from him.

“What? I don’t think it's that crazy to assume you’d get off on that, given how much of a die-hard you were growing up. You hero-worshiped the guy,” Quinn says between bouts of laughter. "I don't judge. Whatever foreplay you need, dude."

“Do me a favor, would’ya?” Quinn nods, too tipsy to see he’s walking straight into a trap. “Go bother literally anyone else before I dunk your head in the eggnog.”

He does, head thrown back, cackling at his younger brother’s melodramatic threat. Jack doesn’t care if Quinn makes fun of him so long as he does it from six feet away. At least.

“Thank you, again, for doing this. I know my family is a lot—and don't really understand the concept of boundaries," Jack says in greeting when you manage to slip away from Luke and back to his side.

Your expression lifts into a pretty smile.

“There’s no need to thank me, Jack. I’m enjoying myself. Everyone’s been so warm and welcoming.”

“Really?”

“Really,” you affirm with a nod. “Your family has been on their best behavior.”

That’s because they want you to join us indefinitely, Jack muses.

However, now that he’s thinking about it, you becoming a more permanent fixture of Hughes holidays wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. It might devolve into that for you eventually, but Jack would never tire of having you as an anchor.

He was already planning on asking if you were interested in tagging along next year, but why put an expiration date on the invitation? It's not like he would have an actual date to bring.

Before Jack can broach the subject, you’re pulled away by the herd of Flower Girl hopefuls. He expects you to look back with a pleading “Save me!” look in your eyes, but you don’t. You don’t even glance over your shoulder, already too engaged in whatever game of make-believe his cousins conjured up this time.

Jack's body warms as he stands in the corner of the living room. The happy kind of heat that spreads from your chest down to your toes and out to your fingertips. The kids are having a blast dancing between the couches and around the other guests, but you’re having just as much fun twirling them around. There’s so much giggling and smiling; it's infectious.

“Your girlfriend is a natural,” his dad says fondly as the children crowd you like their very own celebrity.

“Huh?” Jack murmurs, only half listening.

He’s too busy watching you hoist a giggling five-year-old into the infamous Dirty Dancing lift. Your arms are straight, glued to your ears. Jack smiles. He taught you that in his living room.

“Don’t let her be the one that gets away, okay?”

Jim wanders off to help his wife gather everyone for dinner, leaving Jack to chew on his dad’s request in solitude.

He winds himself so deeply into his head that he doesn’t notice you coming towards him until you’re face-to-face.

“Shall we?” you ask, eyes as bright as the tree behind you.

Jack nods, gulping down the strange feeling, and holds out his arm. He thinks he hears your breath catch as you thread your arm through to rest a hand in the crook of his elbow.

You’re probably just surprised and maybe even a little confused. He’s never overtly chivalrous with anyone unless it's for a bit. Or in front of his mom. Neither of which is at play presently. You're alone in the hallway.

Jack just felt like being a gentleman. It's the least he could do after talking you into spending the holiday weekend with his nutty family and their big mouths.

As Jack guides you through his childhood home, he does his best to ignore how much he likes the feeling of your shoulders brushing.

In the dining room, he pulls out a chair for you. While tucking you in, he catches his brothers mocking him in his peripheral vision.

Sensing his vexation, you snatch the bottle nearest you and fill a glass with wine. Wordlessly, you slide it into his palm. He takes half the heavy pour in one gulp and affectionately squeezes your shoulder. Immediately, Jack wishes he would’ve waited to do that until he could blame it on a buzz. It’s one simple touch, but that’s enough to make him feel like a complete weirdo.

He didn’t want you to misinterpret the gesture. Your friendship works so well because neither of you has tried to make it more. Maybe it was his anxiety talking, but Jack’s reasonably certain he’s wrecked everything.

The remainder of the wine goes quickly.

“But I wanted to sit next to her!” Jack’s youngest cousin whines to his aunt from across the table.

“You’ve hogged her all night, honey. She’s Jack’s date; we should let him spend time with her. Maybe she’ll help you build your fort later if you behave during dinner.”

You nod and wink at the little girl. She, aglow with glee, claps her little hands together. Her mother quietly mouths her gratitude to you.

“Who knew I was such a hot commodity?” you lean over and whisper to Jack.

It’s a lighthearted joke, but Jack feels a twinge of jealousy. He wasn’t a jealous person, especially with you. And, objectively, it was stupid to be upset over the demands of a child.

The sole purpose of a “holidate” is to shift the attention away from him and, presumably, onto you. Jack hadn’t thought about how possessive the blatant division of your attention would make him feel.

Something shifted tonight; he wants to be selfish with you.

As his mom pulls you into a conversation about your plans for New Year's Eve, Jack takes your hand in his. He waits for you to pull away. Instead, you squeeze his hand. Once, twice, then a final time. The fluttery nerves in his stomach dissipate.

Luke nudges Quinn, pointing his fork at your conjoined hands resting atop the table. They grin but say nothing.

Throughout the meal, his thumb absentmindedly rubs over yours. He hadn’t meant to, and when he realizes, Jack is hit with a sudden rush of clarity.

He isn’t bothered that everyone assumes you’re together; he’s bothered that you aren’t.

The epiphany terrifies him.

The feeling of falling in love is very much like the feeling of a nightmare, like being sucked into an all-consuming black hole, entirely at its mercy and unable to save yourself.

He worries that once he starts falling, he might never stop. He’ll lose his bearings and his mind along with them. Jack couldn’t handle that kind of uncertainty. He couldn’t imagine forfeiting so much control over his own life.

Jack never wanted to fall in love, but he already had.

After dinner, Ellen sends the two of you to fetch more firewood from the shed. He can feel your unease as he trudges through the snow ahead of you.

It rose to the surface when he yanked his hand away before dessert and mounted steadily the quieter he became. You attempted to coax him into small talk with witty jokes and anecdotes from the time you spent separated tonight, but he couldn’t bring himself to participate much, if at all.

Eventually, you gave up and turned back to his mom for conversation. Jack didn’t blame you. He wasn’t the best company.

“Jack?” Your voice quivers.

It’s distant, literally and figuratively. He wonders when you stopped walking, but it doesn’t matter.

He halts his movements, but he’s too afraid to turn around. If he sees your eyes, he might say something he won’t be able to take back.

“Did I do something wrong? I feel like you’re mad at me. Or, at the very least, upset with me. Please, Jack, tell me what’s wrong so that I can fix it.”

His heart sprinters at your sincerity. In an instant, Jack relinquishes his fears and strides across the yard to cup your face with his hands. Your cheeks are freezing, but so are his palms. There are tears in your eyes threatening to spill over and meet his touch. He’s so close he can smell your perfume, perforated by his shampoo that you borrowed this morning.

Strange look on his face, he whispers as though divulging his most intimate secret, “You’re my best friend.”

Because, in every way that matters, he is.

The dam breaks, then. Salty streams escape your eyes, slipping between your lower lashes to pool on his fingers. If it weren’t for the faint smile pulling on your lips, Jack would’ve thought you didn’t understand what he meant or that you didn't feel the same.

“I know,” you tell him softly. “You’re mine, too.”

Jack doesn’t even get to react before your lips catch his. He repays your courage so instantaneously and urgently that your mutual admission hasn’t fully sunk in when his tongue slips in to greet yours.

You fist his sweater as if he might pull away any second. Jack strokes his thumbs over your skin to assure you he won’t. Now—or ever.

This kiss—wonderful and everything—is the culmination of every smile shared in confidence, every terrible karaoke duet, countless movie marathons, and too many midnights to count. It feels so natural, so obvious. How he never once thought you’d arrive here is an enigma.

A chorus of whistles and applause erupts from the back porch.

Embarrassed, you attempt to separate from him, but Jack’s insistent lips persuade you to stay despite the growing audience. Now that he’s gotten a taste—of both your mouth and honest affection, Jack’s not budging for anything.

When he was a kid, his mom told him that people only get a few “snow globe moments” in their lifetime. Perfect glimmers of happiness that you want to encase in a bubble and keep pristine forever. Jack never knew what she meant, not really.

Not until you kissed him.

“Fucking finally!” Quinn shouts.

Behind your back, Jack flips him the bird.

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thank you for reading, and happy holidays <3

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All of the stories and fantasies written or discussed on this blog by the owner or by followers are purely fictional and are not intended to offend any parties.

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