Quick A/N: I wrote this in like two minutes and didn’t proofread it, but this came to my mind when I was working today and I had to write it. I know this isn’t the blurb everyone voted on, but I’m still unmotivated on that, so have this while you wait!! Also I’m sorry if this is too freaked out, I’m really horny cause I’m about to start my period. And please keep in mind I’ve never written anything smutty before (besides an NSFW alphabet- which I’ve got one in the works for a specific blonde blue eyed shark 👀) so this might be kinda bad.. who cares though? Enjoy!
One day the sharks are in the locker room, and having locker room chat, and somehow it gets to the topic of foreplay and shit, and everyone knows Misa has a gf (you) so they ask him about foreplay and he has no clue what that is. So later him and Sam are talking and Sam asks if Michael really doesn’t know what foreplay is, and Michael basically admits he gets right into fucking you, and Sam is so disappointed in his friend, and tells him he needs to get you ready and do it right, and poor Michael has no clue how.
And so that’s how you end up with Michael between your thighs while Sam watches, and instructs him. Sam eventually gets fed up and pushes Michael’s face out the way mumbling how he “has to do everything himself” and he starts eating you out like he’s starved. Michael just watches while you are shaking and trembling on Sam’s tongue and fingers- which Michael didn’t even know you could use both at the same time- and how close you are to orgasm immediately.
Then Michael is inside you, and Sam just frowns because it’s all wrong. So he kneels behind Michael, and controls his pace with his hands on Michael’s hips. And he guides Michael’s hand onto your poor neglected clit so he can show Michael how a real guy treats a girl.
THE DUCK PRESENTS
Sam Dickinson x Male Reader x Michael Misa
My first contribution to the Samisa x Reader tag that I'm trying to start. I have an idea, and imma run with it.
Warnings: Sam and Michael are already in an established relationship and are trying to "coax" Reader into their relationship. No use of y/n. Reader is on the Sharks now, and the people have voted for Reader being a goalie. I wrote Reader as 19, but it's not necessarily specified. Reader is also written as being from Canada (it felt fitting.)
Summary: Based very loosely on this prompt I found on Pinterest. Or, Sam and Michael adopt Reader into their relationship and try and make it super obvious after a bad first game for Reader.
Your trade from the Knights to the Sharks was pretty sudden, you would admit.
Sudden, but worth it.
So, so worth it.
(You hoped at least.)
You were ready to get out of there.
Not that most of the guys sucked or anything, but it wasn't your vibe.
Well, Vegas wasn't your vibe.
The fans were great, and the brief moment you had glanced at the comments on your trade, a lot of Sharks fans had no idea who you were (probably almost all of them being just girls who were boy crazy for the baby Sharks), and Knights fans were sad to see you go, but glad to hear you were going to a team you would be treated right at.
So while Vegas wasn't where you had expected to go to at the draft, San Jose also wasn't anywhere you had really wanted to live.
So yeah, San Jose hadn't seemed like your vibe.
At least, not yet.
And that came with the territory any time you moved.
Which, granted, it wasn't like this wasn't the first time you moved. But travelling distance in the west coast of the US was definitely different in comparison to the travelling distance around Canada.
The second thing was it was the middle of the season.
And the middle of a long win streak for Vegas.
Sure, maybe you hadn't enjoyed Vegas that much, but at least your team had been winning.
The Sharks... not so much.
Still, there wasn't much you could do when the team you had been drafted to decided you weren't good enough to keep in your first season with them.
You were standing at the drop off / pickup terminal in San Jose's airport.
Well, off to the side in a corner with a hat pulled low.
Your gear bag - most of it, at least. You would be getting new pads with a new team, so your sticks and old helmet were tucked away in it - You would probably end up redesigning it at some point, but now was not the time - anyway, back to the sentence= your gear bag was against one side with a suitcase by your other while you sat against a wall.
Mitch had offered to help pack your stuff at your apartment, and that was going to be transported at a later date, so you only had like, a weeks worth of clothes and some other necessities.
Where your stuff from Vegas was going to end up, you didn't know yet.
Who was picking you up, you also didn't know.
Heck, you had been told you were leaving Vegas 8 hours ago, had packed up your stuff in 4 hours, said goodbye to everyone (Mitch, mostly) for an hour, and then got on a flight for an hour and a half, and had been waiting outside the airport for an hour and 15 minutes.
Which, since you had no idea where you were staying, kinda sucked cuz you could have just called an Uber by now.
Your agent had assured you that she was getting the information on that, and the whole time you just had the vibe that the Sharks had literally went "lol, what if we tried to get this guy" and then panicked when Vegas said, "he's allllll yours".
After about 15 more minutes of just staring at your phone screen, one headphone off your ear as you listened to some random music that you weren't even sure what it was anymore, your phone finally buzzed.
Clicking it on, you pulled it close as you looked at the message from your agent.
Agent: "There was a mix-up. 2 players are coming to pick you up."
You blinked, rereading the message over and over.
Nothing about where you would be staying.
Nothing about who exactly would be picking you up.
Just two players.
Off the top of your head, you couldn't even think of any players except Macklin Celebrini and Will Smith.
Rubbing your eyes, you turned off your phone as you dropped your head.
You were positive that you looked like a college kid coming home for Christmas or something and no one had picked you up yet.
After about 30 more minutes of waiting and trying to stay awake since it was about 3 in the morning now, and your phone buzzed.
Slowly, raising your head, you squinted at the screen.
Unknown: were here.
You just stared, brain trying to decipher the message when the three dots appeared again, and a second message came through.
Unknown: were in black range rover
The incorrect grammar made you cringe, the three dots appearing once again.
Unknown: i see u looking at ur phone.
You glanced up, staring at the Range Rover with dead eyes, and flipped it off, the windows too tinted to know who exactly was in it.
Finally, you texted a reply.
You: Quit being a pussy and be a real man and face me
You hit send before you could question the first impression you would leave, and shut your phone off before you could see a response.
Slowly, you started to pull yourself up to your feet, keeping a hand on the wall behind you as you waited for your legs to wakeup. You heard the opening of car doors before they closed before two guys were walking over.
They both looked young, about your height, maybe taller. One was wearing sunglasses, despite it being 3 in the morning and probably pitch black out. He also had on a backwards white cap.
The other guy was wearing a hoodie and shorts, with his hood pulled up over a...
Was that a bucket hat?
They were both giggling a little, shoving each other back and forth, and you narrowed your eyes.
You had absolutely no idea who they were.
"What's up, man," the one in the cap said, dapping you up. You tried your best not to wince at his volume, having been so used to the quiet.
The other guy offered a small smile, not saying anything as he dapped you up as well.
"We come to be men," he said, and you blinked at the awkwardness of the statement, before you and the other guy burst out laughing as bucket boy flushed.
"Nahh, it's chill," you replied, chuckling still as you watched them both lean down to take your gear bag at the same time.
You trailed behind them, pulling your suitcase with you as you watched them bicker with each other about who should fully get to carry the bag.
You very distinctly got the vibe that their bickering was more than friends and you were very much third wheeling.
You watched as they put the bag in the back, lowering the handle of your suitcase and putting it in beside it.
As the back of the Range Rover closed, you followed the boy with the bucket hat, climbing in the back of the car as the other two took the front seat.
You weren't entirely sure why, but you took a seat in the middle.
You watched as sunglasses guy started up the car, Katy Perry starting through the speakers, and you blinked, having not expected it.
After a few minutes of driving, the two boys in the front seat singing along to the songs, you finally spoke up as they decided to hit the drive-thru of some fast food place.
"So where exactly am I living?"
When the car stopped in the line, both boys turned to look back at you, the same expression on both of there faces.
"You don't know where you're living?"
You deadpanned, sipping on your drink as you blinked.
"I didn't know I was getting traded to the Sharks until 10 hours ago, or who was picking me up from the airport 30 minutes ago. Which speaking of, who are you two?"
(Maybe you should have made sure you weren't getting kidnapped... At least bucket boy had on a Sharks hoodie.)
They both stared at you for a moment, before looking at each other, having some sort of silent conversation.
Neither of them got the chance to say anything as sunglass guy pulled forward, paying and getting the food.
Once your drink was handed to you, you just started to slurp loudly on your drink, filling most of the silence.
Finally, as sunglass guy pulled out of line to eat in the parking lot, the bucket hat boy spoke up. "I'm Michael Misa, you can call me Mis, or Misa." He introduced, holding out a hand.
You took it as you lowered your drink, resting it against your knee.
"I'm Sam Dickinson," the other guy said, and you nodded suddenly knowingly.
"London Knights," you nodded, and Michael glanced over, forcing Sam's sunglasses off. He looked surprised you knew. You actually recognized him now with the sunglasses off, the name doing it for you.
"You defeated us for the Roberson Cup," you replied, and he nodded, as if remembering now.
"You were in goal?"
"Injured," you replied. You had gotten a concussion in the games before the playoffs, so you hadn't been able to play or attend. You just knew that Sam had been a pain for your team those games.
He nodded again, and your phone buzzed in your pocket. You glanced at it, before letting out a sigh.
Agent: Nothing yet on housing. Sharks are willing to pay a hotel charge.
"That the update on where you're living?" Michael asked, looking hopeful, and you shook your head, muttering under your breath some curse words.
"A hotel," you grunted, loudly slurping your drink again.
Sam booed while Michael frowned, crossing his arms.
"No way."
You blinked, raising an eyebrow as Sam looked over at Misa, the two sharing another silent conversation, before looking back at you.
"I've got a couch," Sam said, and you blinked, raising an eyebrow. "Well, I have a guest room that's currently filled with a lot of boxes but until I clean that, but still."
You had been crashing on Sam's couch for a week by now.
He had been cleaning out the guest room, but it was taking him a lot longer than he said, and granted, if Michael was over, they would be talking and play fighting a lot more than cleaning.
You were half convinced that they had something more than friends going on but you were still far too new into their weird friendship to ask too many questions.
Practice hadn't started for you yet, since your stuff apparently hadn't been sent yet (Good ol Las Vegas mail = old reliable). Your agent had gotten into a squabble with the Knights apparently trying to find it and they were being snarky about the whole thing. She thought she had a lead though, and was going to look into it.
Today was your first scheduled day. The Sharks had been as accomodating as they could be on such a short notice, and Sam was letting you wear his clothes (which you were also pretty sure some of Michael's clothes were in the stack he gave you)
Sitting in the back of Sam's Range Rover (you had ultimately claimed the second row even when Michael wasn't in the car), you stared out the window at the streets of San Jose as you headed towards the practice facility.
This would be the first time you would meet your new team.
You weren't really nervous, per say, but you would be lying if you said you didn't feel just a little out of place with just Michael and Sam.
The rink was quiet as you followed Sam inside, gear bag heavy on your shoulder as you looked around.
The halls were definitely different than Vegas', and you weren't sure how you were feeling right now. Still, you just quietly followed Sam, watching as he pushed open the locker room.
As you two walked in, you could hear the conversations that had been going on fall silent. You could feel their gazes land on you, and you shifted your gear bag awkwardly as Sam spoke up.
"Guys, this is our new backup goalie."
You waved awkwardly, looking around at the quiet room. No one said anything for a moment before Sam pulled you over to an empty locker stall.
Slowly, conversations resumed as you unpacked your stuff, situating your locker for the practice.
You didn't interact much with anyone, a few guys introducing themselves individually. You smiled at each one, quietly replying with your own name.
There was two days before your first game with the team, so there wasn't a lot of time to practice with them, and you had absolutely no idea if you were going to play.
You were also on very limited time to get the rest of your game day gear, so you really hoped your agent found your stuff.
Even after your agent had found your stuff, and Sam had his guest room completely cleaned out, and you had officially spent a week and a half in San Jose, nothing really felt right.
Well, not everything.
You would admit that you were starting to feel at home around Sam and Michael. But more in the way that if one wasn't there, nothing felt right.
Thankfully, both were often with each other so it was fine.
You didn't fully understand the weird looks Toff would usually give you thought - ranging from glares, to head tilts, to subtle shaking of the head.
For the most part, you did stay out of the way of the team, not talking to many except Ned and Asky. Yeah, it sucked that Asky was out on injury, but it did really feel like you were learning a lot from these experienced goalies.
More than you had learned in your time in Vegas.
It was definitely a little refreshing.
Still, a few days after you moved in, you were going on a roadie to Vancouver.
The Sharks were predicted to win that game, and everything you had heard from the coaching staff was that it would be your first game as a Shark.
To say you were pretty terrified was an understandment.
Sure, you had had a solid 2 practices with the team, and you could still save any shots, and yeah, you had played the Canucks before, but there was definitely the harsh reality that this was still a new environment, with a new team, and new gear with new fans.
The worst part after your bad perfromance had been the fact that no one yelled.
At Vegas, the coaching staff would have been on you, then the team would take their shot, then yourself back in the quiet of a hotel room.
And yeah, sure, the Sharks had ultimately one, but you had still let in a lot of goals.
And no one on the Sharks seemed to care.
Not a single person pointed out your bad moves, how you could have moved faster, should have dropped your knees before you slid, known where the shooter was behind your net.
And somehow, that was worse than Vegas.
Sitting in you stall, you didn't celebrate like the others did, just quietly undoing your pads, a towel over your head, hiding most of your face.
Your first game and you might of well have proven how bad the deal was for the Sharks.
The entire time you didn't say a word, just sticking to yourself as you cleaned up.
On the bus ride back to the hotel you had kept your head down, a team hat pulled low with your hood up, tucked in your chair while the rest of the Sharks chattered around you.
You thought you heard someone mention going out to celebrate, but nothing was directed towards you, so you figured you could probably sneak away to your hotel room and evade everyone for the rest of the night.
As the bus pulled to a stop, you kept your head down, slipping past the team.
You heard your roommate mention something about meeting up with others to go out, so you figured you would take a scalding shower, before probably crying yourself to sleep beating yourself up.
It was a good schedule for the rest of your night.
As you slipped into your room, your teammate trailing behind you, you didn't say much even as he yapped about the game. You just nodded along as you gathered some fresh, clean clothes that actually felt like yours instead of the Sharks branded clothes you had on.
As your roommate left, you stepped into the bathroom, taking a minute to look at yourself in the mirror.
You looked tired.
And really, you were.
There were so many more eyes on you now that you didn't have in Vegas.
So much more on your shoulders.
One week in and you already feel like you've failed.
Slowly, you started to pull your shirt off, hat chucked to the side.
With it around your elbows, their was a knock at the door. Blinking slowly, you let out a breath, but could not be bothered to pull your shirt back on.
Stepping out of the bathroom, you opened the door, blinking as Sam almost fell, appearing to have been leaning against it while talking to Michael.
Both of their eyes flicked to you, and you swore you saw Michael blush, quickly looking away.
"Hey, man," Sam said, smiling as he held up an Uno box. "Up for a card game?"
You blinked slowly at them, glancing down at your shirtless chest, before looking back up.
"I was gonna take a shower and hit the hay," you finally replied.
There must have been something in your tone, because they shared a look with each other. Neither said anything, but you didn't fight them as Sam pushed past you, Michael trailing behind.
You just blinked quietly as he flopped right down on your bed.
"Take a shower," he said, waving vaguely in your direction as Michael sat by him. "We'll keep you company until you crash."
You nodded after a moment of just watching as they set up an Uno game, before slipping back into the bathroom.
Shutting the door, you glanced at yourself in the mirror again, before finishing undressing, and stepping into the shower.
After a long, scalding shower, you finally stepped out, drying off and changing into fresh clothes.
The weight of the game was still there, but it felt a little lighter being in your clothes.
No Sharks branding.
No hockey marks.
No name screaming who you were.
Just you.
Stepping out, Sam and Michael immediately snapped their heads up, before Sam broke into a grin.
"There you are! We were starting to get worried."
You blinked quietly, walking over to put your dirty clothes away while Michael piped up.
"You're just in time for a new round."
Glancing over at them as you straightened, you sighed. You really just wanted to sleep, but they were sitting on your bed.
Nodding quietly, you walked over, laying down against the pillows, eyes lidded as Sam dealt the cards.
You made it through most of the game before your eyes drooped a little.
You weren't sure when you actually fell asleep, but at some point during the night you woke up a little, feeling someone press against your back.
The lights were off, and you weren't sure who, so you just quietly rolled over, before going back to sleep, only blearily thinking that Sam and Michael had fallen asleep next to you in your bed.
A/n The title is literally the name of a groupchat between me, my best guy friend, and two of our friends that are dating. Granted, it's plural.
Anyways, I wanna turn this tag into a thing. There deserves to be more Samisa representation. Which I have more ideas, but I'm in writers block a little bit, and working more. Hence why this took so long to get out... Sorry guys, that's probably why it's so scattered and barely edited...
As always, requests open, have a good one. Duck out o7
