y/n and Freddie in btpdg is one of my favorite couples to ready about. have you thought of doing a blurb or something where Freddie comes home from a roadie and wakes y/n up in a ✨spicy✨ way? like, maybe when ollie was a baby because sleep is precious when they have 4 little monsters.
Series Masterlist
This is set before YN and Fred have had conversations about getting together but it’s painfully obvious they both want it so like figure it out already? You also don’t have to have read the entire fic to make sense of it, this is a stand alone piece
Warnings: swearing, smut (fingering and p in v), a slight dominance link, I didn’t proofread or edit so if you see any spelling/ grammar mistakes keep them to yourself
Fred’s least favourite thing was leaving.
Ollie learned what the duffle bag meant and would whine every time he saw it, you of course knew what it meant and would also whine about it. Only difference was he could reason with you. He’d always promise you a date once he returned and you’d always prop yourself on your tippy toes, wrap your arms around his neck and pull his face down, growling “why wait?”
Oliver was walking and talking, a handful with every step, leave him alone for more than a minute and every toy was thrown across the living room, or he would have the pantry open tossing boxes onto the floor. He kept you on your toes and you both felt uneasy leaving him even if only for a few minutes. So you would wait, but that doesn’t mean you’d make it easy on him. You would constantly send pictures, snapchats, answering his FaceTimes while wearing practically nothing. You knew exactly what you were doing and it drove him crazy.
Typically the Pens would fly the team back early in the morning after a road trip and since giving Fred a key you tended to wake up and find the living room full of laughter, Oliver wearing only a diaper as he terrorized the couch cushions.
This particular road trip ended in Philly and it was a very quick flight home. The team ventured back to Pittsburgh after the game and Fred set out for your apartment. He made good time, it was near midnight and the roads were empty.
Not a single light was on, not even the blue glow from a TV to alert him to your presence. It’s quiet, but not an eery quiet, it’s peaceful.
Fred drops his bag by the door and sets his keys in the bowl. His jacket is left on the rack and he starts to unbutton his dress shirt as he walks down the dark hallway. He stops at Oliver’s room and half expects the crib to be empty meaning a night with a sprawling toddler who kicks him seventeen times in the ribcage, but as the light from the hall filters in Fred catches a glimpse of the red locks on his tiny body. Like every night he spends with Oliver, Fred walks over to the side of the crib and takes a second to just watch his son. There is something about watching a baby sleep perfectly and peacefully that makes his heart swell - he doesn’t know how he went this long without it. He gently whispers goodnight and places a kiss to his cheek, then leaves the door as he found it - open a crack - before venturing toward you.
There is a copy of The Whispers cracked open on the mattress beside you, a cup of cold herbal tea lingers on the bedside table. The blankets are down low past your hips and one leg is kicked out - evidence you got hot at some point - your perky nipples protrude through the thin white cotton shirt you wore to sleep. The desire for baby number two throbs in his pants, if only that topic wouldn’t send you running Fred could bring it up.
He throws his pants over a chair, folds his shirt and places it on the seat and slips out of his socks. He grabs your “bookmark” from the night stand and lets his finger trace over the worn edges for a moment. It’s not an actual bookmark, but a picture taken moments after Oliver was born. Fred knew you were using a picture, but Oliver was almost one before he knew what the picture was, and that was the moment he knew there was a chance you’d come back to him. Because it’s not a picture of just you and Oliver, it’s one of the three of you. Sweat clings in your hairline, trapping baby hairs to your forehead, both of you have puffy red eyes from crying with the biggest smiles imaginable plastered to your faces, only thing is Fred is staring at Oliver and you are looking up at him. Even with the emotions of that moment, he can see there is more to the look you are giving him. You’re not staring at the father of your son, you are staring at the man you love. Fred is so happy he noticed that glimmer in your eyes and decided to wait you out, because he catches you looking at him like that countless times a day (even though you won’t admit it anytime soon). Fred smiles, like he does every time he sees this photo, and sets it inside the book, then curls up beside you.
He knows he should let you sleep, you have a very energetic toddler that loves to keep you on your toes, but that shirt is just a little to see-through and a little too tight and you sent one too many messages.
He starts slow.
His hand on your stomach and lips on your jaw. It’s soft, a kiss that goes unnoticed.
His calloused hand ventures up, finding one of those perfect breasts you spent a week tormenting him with and he begins to massage it, tweaking and tugging at your nipple. A sleepy sigh catches in your throat but Fred can tell it’s going to take more.
His touch is light as his hand drops, under the elastic band of his boxers you decided to sleep in. The pressure starts off gentle, slow circles being pressed against your heat. His lips trail along your jaw, over to the sweet spot on your neck. Instead of kissing he starts to suck, harder and harder, letting his teeth sink in. When he doesn’t earn the response he desperately seeks, two fingers toy at your entrance, coating themselves in your arousal.
“Hi baby,” Fred murmurs when you finally start to stir.
“Hi,” you mumble back, involuntarily tilting your head to the side, giving him more space to work with. “I missed you.”
“I know you did.” His fingers slip inside as far as they can go. Your eyes dart open.
“Shit baby.” Your legs kick out and back arches as he thrusts his digits back inside.
“You knew what you were doing with all those pictures you sent.” He chastises, thrusting his fingers back inside once again. “Knew what it was doing to me.”
“Of course I did.” Your voice is becoming strangled, the pressure starting to build.
“Then what did you expect?”
Fred shoves his boxers down your thighs and you feel his cock, rock hard and leaking excitement all over your hip. With a few more thrusts to get you wet and ready, Fred replaces his fingers with his member, and you both moan in unison.
“This was your plan all along, wasn’t it?” He probes, shunting you up the bed with one deep thrust. “What you wanted huh?” He punctuates with another thrust.
“I always want you.” You whimper, knowing he is waiting for a response.
Your fingers tremble when they feel the hard muscles of his back. You always loved his body and he’s always loved yours. Beads of sweat cascade down your neck and Fred smiles, his second favourite thing to lick.
“Only me right?”
He doesn’t mean it as a question, at least not in this moment. There will be a time for the hard questions, a conversation where he will make you admit to what you’ve been feeling (because he has zero doubt and knows you just need a nudge). This question is more about dominance, a reminder, because him practically prodding your cervix doesn’t do that.
“As if there could be anyone else.”
Fred hooks your left leg over his hip and finally brings his lips to yours. His mustache tickles your upper lip and his tongue works its way into your mouth. It’s sloppy, frantic, full of heat. Every time he presses his tongue in further your nails scratch along his back. And after every firm and direct thrust hits that spot deep inside, your moan gets caught in his mouth.
“You look so good with my cock inside you.” Fred grunts, punctuating his words with another thrust.
“You feel so good inside me.”
“Gonna feel even better with my cum dripping out of you.” Fred smirks as one hand snakes between your bodies and rubs at your clit. It suddenly becomes very difficult to concentrate on what he is saying. You can see his lips moving and can only imagine the filth spewing out.
You writhe beneath him as your pleasure reaches it’s peak. Your nails dig deep into the thickest part of his bicep and with one more punctuated thurst you come undone, warmth spilling around his cock. Fred’s cocky grin only grows even as his thrusts are sloppy and shallow, and just as your body relaxes Fred spills everything deep inside your cunt.
It takes a bit for your hearts to steady, it always does, Fred’s version of a “quickie” often leaves you feeling like you ran 5k.
Fred looks down at you, brown eyes clouded with lust and passion and leans back in, replacing the heated and heavy kisses with a soft one, full of warmth.
“Elskede.” He smiles sweetly, his cock soft inside you.
“Hmm.”
“Tease me like that again and I won’t wake you up as nicely next time.”
“No idea what you’re talking about,” you shrug him off, a hint of insolence in your voice. His cock twitches. You being bratty always did turn him on.
Taglist: If you are in this list you have expressed interest in the series, either through likes/reblogs or by asking. If you would like to be removed or added to the list send me an ask:
@mandypants95 @c-tangerinene @puccbunni @hockeyinaussie @hockeypuckspost @0kikina0 @sixmapleleafs @hockeyunitsyunits @localcalumhoe @starswin @je-ne-regrette-rien @mollybirk @daniellepulice72 @callsign-denmark