shellyhughes

[shellyhughes]

I love your writing 🤍

AAAAA omg my baby. i LOVE ur writing too. ive been reading hughes fics on here forever and i only just got tumblr and started writing but seriously ur luke fic is soooo good

[shellyhughes]

bambi

꒰ა quinn hughes x pregnant fem!reader ໒꒱

type : oneshot , fluff words : 1185 rating : teens and up / suggestive talk SUMMARY: a morning with a tired quinn and a seven month pregnant you.

So, the house feels good. The off-season is only just starting and Quinn is already adjusting to making breakfast for you every morning. You definitely agree that, yes - it’s honestly the least he could do. The feeling of hot, busting and glimmering sunshine on your skin is enough to make you cry. Anything these days is enough to make you cry. The little one in your tummy wakes up fully with a harsh kick to your bladder, it’s been like this for weeks. You sigh, gently sitting yourself up and making your way to the bathroom for the third time in an hour. After the business is done, you realize you won’t be getting any sleep and you step in the kitchen to find your groggy boyfriend trying to make scrambled eggs. When you catch the sight of him - eyes sluggish and tired, toast burning, eggs undercooked - you smile. A+++ for effort.

But, when he catches the sight of you, his eyes soften. Then, he realizes you’re out of bed and walks up to you quickly, pressing a gentle and real kiss to the side of your mouth, “Morning, Bambi,” he hums that nickname you always blushed at. That nickname that came from one stupid night and stuck even after almost a year, “you okay?”

“Mhm,” you nod, leaning into his kiss, “just couldn’t really sleep.”

“That punk kicking again?” he raises his eyebrows, kneeling to your tummy, eyeing it - speaking to it, “Chill out, kid, you’ll be out soon.”

The baby replies with another soft kick.

Quinn lets out a huff of laughter, “Attitude,” then, he stands up, pressing his forehead against yours, “he gets it from you.”

“Oh, wow,” you giggle, half-pretending to be offended, “I have an attitude? You literally play hockey for a living. Your whole gig is getting pissed off and pissing other people off.”

His fingers slide around, gently rubbing your tummy. And right on time - the baby kicks him, almost like in agreement with you. His jaw falls a little, exasperated, “You two are already teaming up on me. You’re outnumbering me and he’s not even out yet.”

“Should’ve thought about that before you knocked me up,” you kiss his nose playfully, pulling away from him and meticulously sitting yourself up on the counter next to the burnt toast, idly kicking your bare legs.

His eyes trail over you. You know how much he loves you like this - a little sleepy, in your comfort clothes, a pair of oversized, grey sweat shorts and a purple tank top, your sweaty hair in a bun, your bump stretching the tight shirt around you. Your eyes, on the other hand, travel the state of the home. The morning sun has now made its way into the living room, spilling through the windows onto the hardwood like freshly chilled honey. You notice the sunscreen on the table from yesterday - he had rubbed it all over your shoulders in the backyard while you rested, reading some dumb magazine.

You slowly part your knees, spreading them completely. You were practically man-spreading. He takes this as an invitation, stepping forwards, standing snug between your legs - also keeping his hands on either side of your waist. “Hey,” his lips curl into a dumb smile.

“Mn, hi,” you shift as another small kick goes for your ribs this time, “You know what it is, bubs? - he recognizes your voice. He kicks every time you talk.”

“Oh yeah?” he slides his right hand back onto the bump, his other hand resting on your back, soothing it from the pain troubles you had been having. Another kick. He looks down, “- oh shit, hey, you can hear me?”

Your eyes flutter shut as you groan at the kicks. Your fingers slide under his chin, tilting it up, “Shush. You’re making him excited, Hughes.”

He stays quiet, eyes wide and happy.

“Good,” you smirk.

During this pregnancy, you’ve felt so involved. Quinn had been perfect. Never leaving you out, never taking over or treating you like you were made of glass. And even, right now, he’s being a doll. Letting you do what you want, say what you want, order him around. “I’m hurting,” you purse your lips in stress.

He pulls in closer, as close as he can possibly get, “Where, Mama?”

“My back. All over.” You wince, pushing yourself off of the counter, leaning all of your weight on him.

“Want the heated blanket?” he asks.

“Mhm,” he guides you to the sofa.

He’s quick to come back from the closet, plugging in the heated blanket and gently sitting it on your limp body. “Kissies,” you mumble, reaching for him.

He breathes out, leaning down to pepper kisses over your lips, then down to your neck, “You don’t know what you do to me sometimes, Bambi,” he murmurs into your neck.

“Oh yeah?” You play back, nipping at his forehead, “Clue me in, then.”

He’s quiet for a moment, then he smirks, “You can’t handle it.”

“Try me.” You roll your eyes.

“Imagine…” he pretends to trail off, tapping his fingers around your collarbone, “lots of sweat… lots of begging… like when you beg for kissies only more drunk on me.”

You roll your eyes again, trying to hide what that sentence did to you. “You’re filthy.”

“You asked.” He defends himself.

You both begin to feel the blanket heat up, he pulls away, leaving you be. But, you pull back one more time, “More kissies.”

He nods, repeating, “More kissies.” he leans back down, his lips connecting with yours quickly, deep and wet. But so real. So soft.

You and him rest on the sofa for hours together. Him rubbing cream on your stiff neck every so often, intimidating the monster in your tummy causing all this pain. But truly, there’s no other place you’d rather be. This is home. To think that seven months ago, this was all kind of an accident. He wasn’t ready and neither were you. It bloomed though, as things usually do when you leave them be - bloomed into something precious. It’s not for everyone, you know this. But, the love he showed you when that second line appeared on that test - the kind of love that said ‘No matter what you choose, I’ll be next to you. This is my responsibility.’ It showed you all you needed to know about Quinn Hughes. He never cut corners. Never on the ice and never in the real world.

Quinn hums in your ear, “Whatcha thinking about?”

“I dunno. Us.” You reply.

He presses his nose to your hair, inhaling your summer shampoo. “You turned me into a man.” he whispers.

“You think?” You ask, fingers running through his dark, messy strands of hair.

He nods. “I mean, yeah. You did. I used to think being a man was being tough, territorial… whatever… you know. But, I guess… I don’t know - none of that matters if you’re not happy. Being a man is being there for someone other than yourself. Did that even make sense?”

You love it when he rambles. You’re always the one who gets him going on these tangents. “Yes, bubs. You’re there for me?”

“Always, Bambi.”

[shellyhughes]

YOUR TASTE

꒰ა vampire quinn hughes x fem!reader ໒꒱

type : oneshot , smut words : 2265 rating : explicit for sexual content SUMMARY: quinn comes to visit you late at night after smelling blood from your body.

just gonna leave a note that this isnt period sex cause someone said it kinda comes off that way. theres no period blood in this !!!!

Your eyes shoot open in a terrible panic. Another ‘bad dream’. The soft mauve floral sheets you picked out while thrifting wrap around your body whole. The sunshine lemon oil diffuser is just now slowly shutting off after being on all night, and the curtains fly up and down against the cool breeze from your open window. And he can see it all. Right now. That’s his special ability, as far as you know. All that really matters is who he chooses to watch. And you’re not trying to be a peacock or anything, but you just know he’s watching you right now. If you weren’t sort of into it, you would go to the police - but then again, what are the police supposed to do? - Quinn is a vampire super athlete. Okay, that’s an over-exaggeration. But, he is really strong.

Leaning over to your bedside table, your hands clamp around a glass of water you had placed there earlier in preparation for this exact event. Your nightgown is loose - a lilac, silky, whorish little thing you only wear to free your boobs from the expectations that the patriarchy set in place about bras - and you also feel cute as hell in it. With your free hand, you pull out the beaded scrunchie that had been in your hair practically all night, and the bouncy, clean hair falls to your shoulders quickly. You’re never going to get any sleep at this rate. Jesus, just knowing that Quinn is watching you right now. Knowing deep down that you’re only wearing this lingerie to bed and this gloss on your lips because he’s using his powers to watch you gets you so wet.

Your nipples are perking up against the thin fabric as your fingers travel down to the wetness slowly but surely beginning to pool up in your panties. You almost want to call for him, he’d definitely hear you. He’d definitely come. Even if it’s the most humiliating thing to admit - that he’s been watching you for days, probably masturbating while watching you hit your climax against one of your fluffy pillows. You flick a nail against your pink, throbbing bud and let out a breathy, wispy whimper. Your knees spread open like second nature, like you totally haven’t been pretending to have nightmares just to catch Quinn off guard while he’s watching you sleep.

Another moan drifts from your pursed lips as you continue to rub your angry clit, you want more! Now! Sliding a finger into your pulsing pussy, you bite your lip just enough to draw some blood. As soon as you do it, you realize what’s about to happen. In just one second, he’s in your room. You squeeze your legs together and lick the blood from your bottom lip quickly. Play innocent, you plan in your head.

“Wh-what are you doing here?” You yelp, pulling the blankets over your bare legs.

He stays silent. His eyes are grey and tired. He’s tired. He’s in pain, from what it looks like. You’ve never seen him so… broken down. Maybe he doesn’t show it for a reason. But, right now, he’s completely open. You don’t fully understand the relationship between you and Quinn, it’s very complicated. You two have known each other for years, when he told you he was a vampire, you didn’t judge. But, these past few months, jesus - and now he’s in your room, standing over you with such a struggle in his facial expression.

“Quinn.” You say, your voice laced with seriousness. “What are you doing in my room?”

“I…” He starts, his brows furrowing. “I smelt blood. Thought someone hurt you.”

You nod, easing back into a comfortable position. He’s not gonna hurt you. Quinn is a friend. “I-I’m fine.” you stutter out.

His eyes stay on you, intense as ever. He sits next to you, the bed creaking gently, “Your heart is racing.”

“Yeah,” you giggle weakly, “Sorry.”

“No. I like the sound. It’s my favourite sound.”

There’s a beat of silence between the two of you. His presence is cold and nerve-wracking but also… soft - in a way? He’s a protector. Even the slight drop of blood from your lips had him running.

“Speaking of…” he broke the quiet. “I am uh- a little thirsty right now - been a few days. Could I…?”

It’s out of nowhere. You’re sort of taken aback. This is either desperation or something much deeper. Either he’s just really thirsty or… or the mere scent of your blood had him so excited, he came all the way here just for a taste.

Quinn realizes what he said and almost chuckles. “You know what? - sorry I’m being weird. I’ll go.”

“No. Wait.” your cold, slender fingers wrap around his wrist. “You can.”

You feel his gaze picking you apart, probably listening to every blood vessel, every drop of sweat, every swallow that went through your body. His eyes turn dark, he sits on the bed, facing you. He begins to prepare you, running his fingers along your forearm while trying to find a decent spot to use his fangs.

“You sure?” he asks.

“Uh - yeah,” you answer, a lump in your throat, “Does it hurt?”

“Well, uh, I wouldn’t know. But, I was told that it’s tingly… and a little uncomfortable.” he tries to keep his eyes down, but then, he notices your shift on the bed. “I can just find someone else if you—”

“No, no, you’re my friend. I trust you.” You get out quickly, tugging at your forearm to refocus him.

With a tiny nod, Quinn lowers his face to your skin. Before he even thinks about putting his teeth in, he begins to lick around the spot he’s going to bite into, “Just moistening it… a little. Helps my fangs. - I might be sucking for a while so maybe j-just talk about something to occupy yourself while I… do the thing.”

He seems to know so much about this, you think, shutting your eyes and trying to ignore the terrifying flutter in your tummy, “This won't turn me, right?” you say, half-joking, but also half-curious. Like, you know that he knows what he’s doing. That he would never turn you on purpose. But, there’s a small fear that maybe this will turn you.

“No, no,” he reassures. “Not unless you want.”

“I’ll pass for now.”

That gets a smile out of him and you’re proud of yourself for getting this sad cat to smirk, “What were you doing to get that bloody lip anyways?” he asks, then, without much warning, he slides his fangs into the poor veins of your right arm.

“Uh-” You almost moan out in a strange, draining tone. Your eyes are permanently resting as he feeds on you, your breaths are slow but loud and harsh as you adjust to a feeling that you’ve never quite felt before.

There’s a clicky, little suckling sound coming from the teeth deep inside you as you try to gather your thoughts. It’s just too much. You can’t even decide if it feels bad or not—it just… feels. After some time, you feel him get stuck in a lot and you have to flex your fist to get him out of it. When it doesn’t go away, he pulls his teeth out gently and pants, looking up at you.

“You never said what you were… doing,” he pants out, licking the blood from his pink lips. “Before… I got here.”

You swallow. “You really wanna know?”

He nods.

“I think you already know.” You whisper, your face turning red as you admit it—yes, I know you’ve been watching me.

His face didn’t turn red, but it probably would have if he could create heat. Instead, Quinn just places his hands over his eyes and tries to hide from this fact. It’s kind of cute to you, that he truly had no idea that you already knew. “Did you finish?” he asks under his breath.

You try to control the heart in your chest but it drops anyways - and you know he hears it, with the way his eyes flutter. Your thighs rub together awkwardly and instead of answering, you just shake your head.

“Can I…” he starts, leaning in. He’s so fucking awkward and you love it. “Can I taste it? It smells good.”

Your breath hitches involuntarily, your legs shake and you're so embarrassed you could die. “Quinn, jeez,” you sigh bashfully, trying to escape this moment but you know that you wanna stay.

“Sorry, sorry,” he whispers, his hand finding your collarbone as he brushes your fluffy hair out of the way, “You’re just… your scent… it’s something new.”

After some time, you lay against your and very shyly open your legs back up for him to see. A pretty little stain soaks into your white panties as he takes in the sight below him. His breathing speeds up, he slides your underwear off quickly, almost primal. Like this isn’t really him anymore. Just the vampire. Either way, you feel a tight muscled tongue stroke quickly against your clit - you whine loudly, wrapping your calves around his neck, pulling him in.

His tongue slides into your pussy hole, he doesn’t stop. He’s practically making out with your pussy like it’s his one true love, maybe it is, to him. He even makes sure to continue to let his curved nose brush against your clitoris as he finds a good pace to go at to edge you just enough. He wants this done right. He wants this drawn out - but, only because he knows how good it’ll feel for you if it’s done this way. Your folds wiggle around at the pressure of his tongue moving up and down, never stopping.

Quinn releases for a moment, breathing against your bare thigh. And in this short moment, he begins to press gentle kisses to your sweaty, warm skin, watching the shaved pussy drip, “You taste like an angel...” he commented, diving back in.

Your head rolls back in euphoria. His tongue is magic and you wonder why this has never happened before. Maybe you were just always scared of him or something - scared of how violent he could get. He’s a monster, after all. But, this isn’t violent. Not even close to violent. This is gentle, this is safe, this is sensitive. Then again, Quinn could probably do anything to you right now and you’d let him.

And that is proven to be true when falls back from your pussy again and hums softly, “I’m still thirsty,” he says it like a statement, but it’s a question. And when he begins to rub his cold fingers around your bare thigh, you know what he wants.

“Take more…” you manage to get out after being quiet for far too long, pressing your soft thigh against his lips.

He presses another few kisses before digging his fangs in. It doesn’t hurt as much as it did the first time, maybe because your limb was more thick and filled here. But, he loved it. He’s not even hiding the grunts anymore. He feeds for a good minute before you pull him off by his hair, gently, of course. “I’m a little dizzy…” you say.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, going back to pleasuring you. It’s almost like you two are taking turns. But, you’re first, always.

Your head is light and you can’t tell if it’s from the loss of blood or from the tongue assaulting your pussy right now. Maybe both.

“I listen to you every night… you sound so beautiful,” Quinn says. He puckers his lips around your clit and suckles deeply.

“Ah! - oh my - ah!” If you roll your head back any more, it’s gonna snap off. It’s like you’re pulling away but not truly, you want to stay, shivering at his touch.

His tongue slides back in deep, reaching and reaching for that g-spot but it’s just not long enough. - Not like it matters, though. This is enough to send you over the edge anyways. His hands find your breasts, massaging and running over your hardened nipples before squeezing them. You then remember what he had said earlier - your heartbeat, his favourite sound. He’s also probably trying to make your heart go faster, overstimulating you to the edge. Jesus.

He buries his face deeper, muffling something, - you sort of catch it, “Cumn imn my moufth… wanna taste you…”

It gets you so fucking wet. You nod, beginning to grind your hips around his head just like you used to do to those pillows - depraved and alone. But now - free and wanted. His tongue was yours at this moment. Yours to release yourself on. And you sure did. You make a high-pitched whine as you hit your climax - white cum leaking out as you snatch his pretty, dark hair and continue to finish yourself on his lips. He sucks and swallows every little bit, he doesn’t lose a single bit. He’s addicted to you.

“Quinny ah - fuck!” you slow down.

He laps his tongue one last time for good measure and lays his head on your tummy, licking his lips lovingly. “Your taste is perfect.”

You sit up on your elbows and try to reach down for his crotch, “You wanna…?”

“No… can’t really feel it… it doesn’t feel good.” he traces circles around your tummy, “Besides, I don’t wanna feel good. I just wanna taste you for the rest of my life now.”

You feel oddly claimed. But, is that such a bad thing? “That can be arranged.”