badnhlimagines - Tumblr blog

[badnhlimagines]

Imagine…

You never intended to spend this long in Philadelphia. You never intended to become this intimately acquainted with Philadelphia, but life has a way of surprising you. It was only meant to be a passing stop on the 68 hour Greyhound bus journey to LA, barely memorable.

The first surprise came when boarding the bus in Manhattan. Bleary eyed and sipping your Dunkin coffee, you weren’t paying much attention to anyone else in the queue at Port Authority Bus Station. You were mostly concerned with getting a window seat on the bus so that all of those 68 hours might fly by while cloudwatching. So, it’s fair to say you were completely unprepared for the person who took the seat next to you.

Person might not even be the right word. As Gritty squeezed his tremendous, fuzzy form into the bus seat, you found yourself absolutely speechless. You’d heard of him, of course - everyone had - but you were still unprepared to see him in the flesh.

And then Gritty turned his gaze upon you, and chills shot through your body, pinning you in place. You tried to take a breath, but your chest feels light and empty. It makes you a little dizzy. After a moment you manage to summon enough control to smile, hoping that you’re (respectfully) conveying the effect he’s having upon you.

You needn’t have worried about respect. Seeming satisfied, Gritty turns his attention to the onboard entertainment system. You think, with a flash of disappointment, that he has forgotten you - and then, with deliberate carelessness, he places one massive paw upon your thigh.

Your breath catches in your chest again. You can feel yourself burning with raw desire, on a Greyhound bus for fuck’s sake. It’s gotta be in the Top Ten for least sexy locations, but you just can’t help it. There’s something about Gritty that makes your reason disappear.

The journey is torturous. Gritty keeps his paw on you for most of it, even as he becomes increasingly absorbed in watching Flyers highlight reels. You’d hoped to pass some of the journey reading or in quiet contemplation of the epiphany that had prompted you to leave your Big City Job in New York to embark on this Soul Searching Quest to LA, but he’s just too distracting. Several times you try to take a nap - the Dunkin coffee hadn’t worked quite as well as you’d hoped - but each time you find yourself drifting into dangerous fantasy territory.

By the time you reach Philadelphia you’re close to desperate. He must be getting off here - unless he, too, is trying to find himself in California? - and you can’t tell if it will be a relief or a disappointment. Certainly this can’t be good for your need to find yourself when your desire for him eclipses all other feeling. But equally it’s rare to feel this sort of intensity with anyone, and you don’t want to let it slip through your fingers.

Sure enough when the bus pulled to a stop, Gritty got up to leave. And then - in a moment you will remember for the rest of your life - he turned back to you, his gaze questioning.

You didn’t need to be invited twice. Leaping up from your seat, you follow him down the aisle and off the bus. It’s a slightly longer stop, anyway, you’ve got time to say a proper goodbye before the bus leaves for Harrisburg.

Gritty barely waits for you to be inside the bus station before grabbing you into the nearest bathroom. You’d always watched scenes of wordless passion on TV and thought them unrealistic. Sex isn’t like that! It’s silly and awkward and human.

Only Gritty isn’t human, and what follows blows all of your beliefs about what sex can be like out of the water. You’ve found hair attractive before but not fur - Gritty has you grasping his, your hands buried in it, gasping his name as he ploughs you like an intermission zamboni. Dimly you register that you’re going to be finding bits of loose orange fuzz in different orifices for days, but it’s very hard to care when Gritty is holding you close and thrusting vigorously into you.

Completely blissed out, you lean back against the grimy tiles. You don’t even care if you miss your bus now. LA can wait. Everything that isn’t Gritty’s enormous throbbing love trunk can wait. This is exactly where you were meant to be.

[badnhlimagines]

@barznasty2point0 thank you !

[badnhlimagines]

sequel to this post!

Imagine…

Your steps are a little unsteady as you make your way downstairs the following morning. You hadn’t planned to stay the night, but if there’s one thing Sidney Crosby has, it’s staying power. Between that and the allure of the yellow Croc skates, you had a hell of a magical time.

This morning, though, you’re on a hunt for coffee. You head down into the kitchen, which, like the rest of the house, is entirely penguin themed - like the animal, not the team. You’d almost forgotten that this is actually Mario’s house, until you run into the man himself standing by the coffee-pot, which is shaped like a Humboldt pengiun.

‘Hey,’ he says, with an easy smile. 'Y/N, right? Sid’s talked about you a lot.’

'Oh, um, hi,’ you stammer, blushing and looking at your feet. Dating Sid has brought you into contact with your fair share of hockey legends, but this is Mario Lemmyoo and you are in his kitchen.

'Can I get you anything?’ he asks.

'Um, coffee?’ you ask, feeling yourself relax slightly. Weirdly, it feels like you’ve known Mario for ages, he’s got some kind of magnetic pull to him. God, does he know that you spent all night getting railed in his attic? He probably does, though he gives no indication of caring.

'Of course.’ Mario selects a mug from the shelf (shaped like an Adelie penguin) and, filling it, hands it to you. There is a moment when your fingers brush, and a shiver runs down your spine. You find yourself looking up - right into Mario’s beautiful eyes.

'I’ve been looking forward to meeting you,’ he murmurs, his voice seductively low.

You bite your lip. You shouldn’t be doing this. Sid is still asleep upstairs, and you’ve never wanted to hurt him. But there’s something electric about the way Mario is looking at you - in a way no one has ever looked at you before.

'I’d like to know you better,’ Mario says, his tone making clear that the knowledge he’s interested in acquiring is of the carnal variety. 'But there’s something I should tell you, first.’

'Oh?’ you ask, edging closer to him.

With the cheesy grin that only someone of his age could muster, he leans in. 'I might be Mario in the streets…but I’m Wario in the sheets.’

[badnhlimagines]

sequel to this post!

Imagine...

Your steps are a little unsteady as you make your way downstairs the following morning. You hadn't planned to stay the night, but if there's one thing Sidney Crosby has, it's staying power. Between that and the allure of the yellow Croc skates, you had a hell of a magical time.

This morning, though, you're on a hunt for coffee. You head down into the kitchen, which, like the rest of the house, is entirely penguin themed - like the animal, not the team. You'd almost forgotten that this is actually Mario's house, until you run into the man himself standing by the coffee-pot, which is shaped like a Humboldt pengiun.

'Hey,' he says, with an easy smile. 'Y/N, right? Sid's talked about you a lot.'

'Oh, um, hi,' you stammer, blushing and looking at your feet. Dating Sid has brought you into contact with your fair share of hockey legends, but this is Mario Lemmyoo and you are in his kitchen.

'Can I get you anything?' he asks.

'Um, coffee?' you ask, feeling yourself relax slightly. Weirdly, it feels like you've known Mario for ages, he's got some kind of magnetic pull to him. God, does he know that you spent all night getting railed in his attic? He probably does, though he gives no indication of caring.

'Of course.' Mario selects a mug from the shelf (shaped like an Adelie penguin) and, filling it, hands it to you. There is a moment when your fingers brush, and a shiver runs down your spine. You find yourself looking up - right into Mario's beautiful eyes.

'I've been looking forward to meeting you,' he murmurs, his voice seductively low.

You bite your lip. You shouldn't be doing this. Sid is still asleep upstairs, and you've never wanted to hurt him. But there's something electric about the way Mario is looking at you - in a way no one has ever looked at you before.

'I'd like to know you better,' Mario says, his tone making clear that the knowledge he's interested in acquiring is of the carnal variety. 'But there's something I should tell you, first.'

'Oh?' you ask, edging closer to him.

With the cheesy grin that only someone of his age could muster, he leans in. 'I might be Mario in the streets...but I'm Wario in the sheets.'

[badnhlimagines]

Imagine…

Ever since you started dating First Overall Pick Sidney Crosby, you’ve been waiting for the moment when he’d invite you round. You’re aware that there are some logistics at play - namely, he still lives in Mario’s attic - but every time you see those delicious thighs you’re nearly overwhelmed with passion.

Finally, the day arrives. Sid texts you to say that his landlord is out, and he’s got the house to himself “if youd like 2 cum over and talk about hockey :)”. You accept quickly - though, knowing him, he probably does mean it about talking hockey. Still, you miss all the shots you don’t take, or whatever it was Jagr said.

You make sure to dress for the occasion, donning a pair of sexy Penguins panties and matching thigh-highs, a mustard yellow miniskirt and a black crop top with pucks over your boobs. You add a Penguins baseball cap and some chunky black heels to complete the look, and then you’re ready to go give your boyfriend a good time.

Sid meets you at the door, and leads you up to his attic room. Safe to say, it’s not quite what you expected. Even though you know that he lives and breathes hockey, you weren’t aware that the floor of his bedroom was iced over - his bed and his furniture fixed in place.

‘Step carefully,’ he instructs, though he doesn’t feel the need to explain himself. He doesn’t really have to, you concede. At the end of the day, he’s still the next Claude Giroux.

You pick your way across the ice to his bed, lying seductively across it and watching appreciatively as Sid begins to strip. He gets right down to his boxers before turning to his wardrobe. Looking for condoms, maybe? You like a guy who doesn’t waste time.

Then he turns back to you, holding something yellow in his hands.

'Are you ready, Y/N? I just need to get these on.’

You look at them, your beautiful brow furrowing in confusion. 'Sid, I don’t get it.’

'Come on, Y/N,’ he says, laughing. 'You gotta know that the croc skates stay on during sex.’

[badnhlimagines]

Imagine...

Ever since you started dating First Overall Pick Sidney Crosby, you've been waiting for the moment when he'd invite you round. You're aware that there are some logistics at play - namely, he still lives in Mario's attic - but every time you see those delicious thighs you're nearly overwhelmed with passion.

Finally, the day arrives. Sid texts you to say that his landlord is out, and he's got the house to himself "if youd like 2 cum over and talk about hockey :)". You accept quickly - though, knowing him, he probably does mean it about talking hockey. Still, you miss all the shots you don't take, or whatever it was Jagr said.

You make sure to dress for the occasion, donning a pair of sexy Penguins panties and matching thigh-highs, a mustard yellow miniskirt and a black crop top with pucks over your boobs. You add a Penguins baseball cap and some chunky black heels to complete the look, and then you're ready to go give your boyfriend a good time.

Sid meets you at the door, and leads you up to his attic room. Safe to say, it's not quite what you expected. Even though you know that he lives and breathes hockey, you weren't aware that the floor of his bedroom was iced over - his bed and his furniture fixed in place.

'Step carefully,' he instructs, though he doesn't feel the need to explain himself. He doesn't really have to, you concede. At the end of the day, he's still the next Claude Giroux.

You pick your way across the ice to his bed, lying seductively across it and watching appreciatively as Sid begins to strip. He gets right down to his boxers before turning to his wardrobe. Looking for condoms, maybe? You like a guy who doesn't waste time.

Then he turns back to you, holding something yellow in his hands.

'Are you ready, Y/N? I just need to get these on.'

You look at them, your beautiful brow furrowing in confusion. 'Sid, I don't get it.'

'Come on, Y/N,' he says, laughing. 'You gotta know that the croc skates stay on during sex.'

[badnhlimagines]

imagines masterpost

remembering that I waited until @badlesmisimaginesofficial got out of hand before making any masterposts, I’m starting early. Most but not all are nsfw, but those that are will always be labelled as such. 

Imagines:

Wayne Has A Secret (Wayne Gretzky x Reader)

You Have A Request For The Seattle Kraken (On AO3)

Gritty Is The President (Gritty x Reader)

Celebrating A Win (Carey Price x Reader)

The Truth Behind The Stars’ Neon Jerseys (Alexander Radulov x Reader)

Date Night (Gritty x Reader)

You Are Sold To The Finnish Mafia To Pay For Family Debts 

You Are A Puck (Marc-Andre Fleury x Reader)

Starbucks Date (Tyler Seguin x Reader)

bonus:

Gritty x Iceburgh angst/smut (on AO3)

[badnhlimagines]

imagine: wayne finally tells the truth

this was inspired by @softgrantaire ​‘s (justified) cyberbullying of wayne gretzky. more like lame gretzky amirite 

Imagine...

Wayne Gretzky is normally such an attentive boyfriend that you immediately notice when he starts to pull away. It's not a dramatic shift, not at first. Initially he's just a little bit quieter, and then he stops texting you 24/7, and finally you're left wondering if you even have a boyfriend at all.

You're not sure how to deal with it. He's had plenty of time to come to term with the fact that the Oilers are shit now and he's stopped worrying that you're going to cheat on him with Connor McDavid now that you've finished helping Davo design his house. (That black and white look? It's gorgeous).

Eventually you decide that the best course of action is just to confront him. Upsetting as it is that he wouldn't trust you with whatever is bothering him, in the long run you'd rather know. Maybe you can even help.

At first you plan to bring it up at your weekly Olive Garden dinner date, but quickly realise that if it's something personal, he's hardly going to want to talk about it in public. So you wait until after dinner, when you've arrived home.

'Wayne,' you say, heart beating fast, 'what's wrong? And don't say nothing, I know you, and this isn't you.'

His face clouds over. 'Y/N...'

'What is it? Please, whatever it is, we can deal with it together.'

'This isn't something you can help me with,' he says, his voice heavy. 'But you're right, you deserve to know.'

You wait, with baited breath.

'The truth is,' Wayne pauses, and then it all comes out in a rush. 'I'm a fraud. I can't play hockey. I can't even skate.'

'What... what are you saying?'

'My trophies, my career, it's all a lie. Just an elaborate system of body doubles and realistic prosthetics. Canada needed a hockey hero, so they made me.'

'But, I've seen you...'

He shakes his head, sadly. 'You only think you have. You and everyone else.'

This can't be happening. This has to be some kind of stupid joke. Except when you look at his face, tired and weary, you know he's telling the truth.

'Recently it's been weighing on me more,' he says. 'All these young upstarts, trying to be the next me, not knowing it's impossible. I thought about going public for a while, but... well, it would destroy the NHL.'

You take a deep breath. You love hockey, you always have, but you love this man more. Even if he's just admitted that your entire relationship is built on a lie.

'Maybe,' you say tentatively, 'some things deserve to be destroyed.'

[badnhlimagines]

wallpapers for our favourite forbidden lovers <3 

Gritty x Iceburgh, like/reblog if you use :’)

all hockey wallpapers

[badnhlimagines]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Men's Hockey RPF Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Seattle Kraken/Reader Characters: Seattle Kraken - Character, Original Female Character(s) Additional Tags: Seattle Kraken, Underwater Sex, Tentacles, Tentacle Sex, Bestiality, Human/Monster Romance, Seduction Summary:

With the expansion draft looming on the horizon, you're willing to do whatever it takes to protect your favourite players.

[badnhlimagines]

imagine: oh mr president

to read on AO3: here

[NSFW]

Imagine...

It's your first day as a White House intern and you're super nervous. It's always been your dream to work in such a politically prestigious environment, but Trump being president meant you had to put it on hold for four years. There was absolutely no way you were going to work for him.

But, now, everything is different. Trump is gone and America has a new president - a president for the people, a bastion of justice and a champion of human rights. A president you're proud to swear allegiance to.

Gritty has only been in office a few weeks when you start the internship. His moves so far have been popular: making healthcare affordable and accessible, abolishing tuition fees and making it a legal requirement for the Pittsburgh Penguins to publicly acknowledge their inferiority before any games against the Flyers.

You're not sure if it's usual protocol for the president to grant new interns a private audience, but then Gritty is hardly a usual president. As soon as you arrive you get whisked through to his office. You've barely time to take in the fact that this is the White House before you're standing in front of his desk, confronted with his orange majesty.

You'd spent hours this morning trying to figure out what to wear. The dress code had stipulated "smart casual" which, really, could mean anything. You settled on a knee-length khaki skirt and plain blouse (if it was good enough for Bella Swan, it's good enough for you) paired with cute earrings and sensible shoes. You want to look professional, but not stuffy.

Upon arrival, though, you'd had more than a few doubts about the ensemble. All the other young women you saw were impossibly beautiful - perfectly styled hair, flawless makeup, classy designer outfits. If you didn't have your audience with the president first thing, you might have gone home early to cry about how out of your depth you are.

President Gritty, however, doesn't seem to mind. He's stood in front of his desk, leaning against it and poring over some papers. He glances up as you enter and his gaze lingers; his huge eyes flitting slowly over your body in a way that sends a shiver through you.

'It's so wonderful to meet you, Mr. President,' you say, stumbling forwards. You're aware that you're babbling, but you can't seem to stop. 'I'm such a big fan, I - '

Slowly, Gritty extends one immense paw. You shake it, feeling electricity at his touch. Clearly, the feeling is mutual, for he's looking at you with a very focused kind of interest.

'I'm Y/N,' you continue. 'The new intern?'

Gritty nods, slowly. Then, with a wave, he dismisses the other White House staffers who had been hovering in the background. They close the door behind them - and then it's just you and the President of the United States. Alone in a room together.

For some reason it takes a huge effort to look up and meet his eyes. You had your own, private, deeply embarrassing reasons for coveting this internship, in addition to your interest in politics. There was no way you could tell anyone about the number of times you'd masturbated during Flyers games - edging during the majority of gameplay, then letting yourself cum as soon as you got a shot of Gritty - especially when it seemed so irrelevant to the rest of your life.

Only now you're actually here, and President Gritty is staring at you in a way that almost seems hungry.

With unexpected tentativeness - as though unsure of his welcome - he places a paw on your shoulder. You get the same shock you did from his first touch, though this might be from the static electricity in his fur.

'Oh,' you say shakily and then, summoning your courage, reach out and touch his chest. When he was first inaugurated there was a whole fuss regarding dress code. Gritty absolutely refused to wear anything other than his Flyers jersey, but was eventually talked round to a bright orange custom suit. Even so, the neckline is dizzyingly low, meaning that your hand lands in a patch of soft fur.

Gritty inhales sharply, and tilts his head, as if to ask, are you sure?

Emboldened, you step closer, so that you're almost pressed against his enormous frame.

That's more than enough to get your message across. His chest heaving with emotion, Gritty bends down to kiss you, his huge mouth enveloping yours.

It's unlike any kiss you've experienced before. The only way you can think to describe it is that it almost feels like he's eating you whole.

So this is why people are into vore, you think, and then Gritty's paw is on your bosom and your thoughts become incoherent.

Somehow the two of you stumble backwards until you're up against the desk. Gritty pauses, then, breaking the kiss to look at you, searchingly.

You know what he's waiting for. With teasing slowness, you sit yourself on the edge of the desk and begin drawing your khaki skirt up, revealing the shape of your legs.

With a throaty growl, Gritty pounces on you once again. He's so keen to get your skirt off that he rips it - but hey, he can afford to get you a new one. In seconds you're completely naked, your moist love cave oozing its juices all over the desk.

Gritty pauses, then, taking a moment to absorb the sight of you. Then, in one fluid motion, he bursts his way out of his suit, the orange fabric giving way to orange fur.

It's your turn to catch your breath. You've thought about it, of course, but your imagination could never do him justice. This - this is more than you could have possibly envisioned. He's so large, so fuzzy ... and so hard.

Your legs open instinctively, giving Gritty the best possible access to your inner sanctum. Overcome with lust, he rushes forward, ready to impale you on his throbbing lovestick.

'Oh, Mr. President,' you gasp, feeling him breach your city walls. This is shaping up to be the best internship you've ever had.

[badnhlimagines]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Men’s Hockey RPF Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Gritty/Iceburgh Characters: Gritty (Hockey RPF), Iceburgh Additional Tags: 2020 US Presidential Election, Reunion Sex, Past Relationship(s), Enemies to Lovers, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Mascots Fucking Summary:

a lot of work went into Blennsylvania.

after the election, Iceburgh wonders if they can have another chance.

[badnhlimagines]

just so you know there is a Lot of gritty erotica in the pipeline in commemoration of blennsylvania

[badnhlimagines]

Imagine...

It's always exciting watching hockey, but seeing your boyfriend play is a whole other level. And maybe you're imagining it, but Carey Price always seems to go from good tier to God tier whenever you're at a game.

Today's win is super special. It's an important game, the technical logistics of which really don't matter. You leap out of your seat the moment it's over, desperate to celebrate as quickly as possible.

Through a combination of sneaking through staff exits and flashing your connections at the security guards who try and stop you, you end up in the corridor outside the Habs' locker room. You usually wait until after Carey has had a chance to catch his breath and get changed, but today you just can't wait for a second longer. You stand there, practically vibrating with excitement, until you hear the sound of the team coming down the hallway.

They turn the corner, and there he is, leading the way. Without stopping to think, you sprint up to your boyfriend, ready to fling your arms around him. It doesn't matter that the rest of the team are watching and he'll get chirped endlessly for it; you're worth more to him than anything.

Only it doesn't play out that way. At the sight of someone speeding towards him, instinct takes over. Without registering who it is, Carey shoulder checks you into the wall, killing you instantly

[badnhlimagines]

Imagine...

"Oh my god!"

You've been waiting for this moment all day. As soon as the front door opens, you hurl yourself through it, straight into the loving embrace of your boyfriend.

'Aha, easy Y/N,' Alexander Radulov chuckles, setting you down gently.

'They're so beautiful,' you murmur, still clinging to the front of his shirt. 'The new jerseys, they're gorgeous.'

You glance up, but Rads' happy smile has faded slightly.

'Y/N...' he hesitates. 'There's something I have to tell you.'

He looks so nervous. Your excitement begins to curdle horribly in your chest, like sour popping candy.

'What is it?'

'Come in,' he gestures and you follow him into the hall. He leads you through to where you can both sit on the couch, and, taking both of your hands in his, positions so that he's facing you.

You're more than a little apprehensive now. What's going on? You've seen a couple of rumours that Tyler Seguin hates the new designs so much that he's requesting a trade. Maybe it's true. And given Roope Hintz's impeccable style, it's hard not to think that he might follow. What if the whole team you know and love is about to crumble right before your very eyes?

'Is everything okay?' you ask, your voice trembling.

Rads takes a deep breath. 'Yes and no. I'm not meant to tell you this, but the new jersey... it's flaunting it. So I couldn't stay silent.'

You stare at him, bewildered. What could the new jersey possibly reveal, beyond a garish taste for neon?

'It happened at the Winter Classic,' Rads begins. 'We've been managing to hide it since then, but now... now I don't know. I think it's a warning. I think they suspect.'

'Suspect what?' you're holding his hands so tightly that your knuckles have gone white.

'This will sound stupid,' he warns. 'But something happened and I'm ... different.'

'What do you mean?' You'd think you of all people would notice if there was something different about Rads. Out of everyone in his life, don't you know him the best? Sure, this year he and the rest of the team have been particularly electric, but you assumed it was just their hard work paying off.

'It's not just me,' Rads says quickly. 'But I'm where it started. I... was bitten by a radioactive puck.'

You gaze blankly at him, uncomprehending.

'It gave me abilities,' Rads continues. 'And they spread to the rest of the team. Bowness and Nill suspect but they don't know the truth.'

'You mean...' you say, as the penny finally drops.

Rads nods, more serious than you've ever known him to be. 'I'm radioactive, Y/N. We all are. That's what the new alternate jerseys represent.'

[badnhlimagines]

@etherealviability glad you liked it !!

[badnhlimagines]

Imagine...

The ice rink is dark when you arrive. You slip in the back door, using your phone as a torch light. Ordinarily you wouldn't dream of breaking in, but it's date night and your boyfriend has planned something special.

Your heart racing, you make your way inside. Suffice to say, dating a NHL star isn't exactly what you expected. All the other Philadelphia WAGs have been lovely to you, but the fact remains that you just don't fit in. And not just because you're not an effortlessly beautiful blonde supermodel.

Still, it's far and away the best relationship you've ever had. Definitely worth a few hiccups and the odd mean tweet. Your boyfriend is so caring and attentive, not to mention hella kinky in the bedroom. You've been flossing orange hair out of your teeth for the last fortnight.

Outside the Flyers' changing room, you find a pair of white figure skates and a note attached. The note simply says "Y/N" and has a little cartoon heart drawn in the corner.

Blushing despite yourself, you quickly change into the skates and hobble through to the ice. You're like, super good at skating for someone who only learnt casually. Claude Giroux joked that they should draft you at the last family skate, after watching you weave backwards effortlessly through the crowd.

The lights are down here too, save for a single spotlight focused at centre ice. In the middle of the spotlight is a huge four-poster bed, hung with bright orange curtains. Rose petals are scattered over the surrounding ice; you slice one in half with your skates as you approach.

'This is incredible,' you say, your voice ringing out in the empty building. 'I can't believe you did this.'

There's a flutter in the curtains and your boyfriend leans forward from where he had been reclining, fully nude, on the bed. Gritty's smile is always wide, but tonight he's simply beaming.

You skate up to the bed, timing it so that instead of stopping on the ice you tumble onto the mattress instead. Without stopping to remove your skates, you climb immediately into Gritty's fuzzy embrace.

The rest of the world melts away immediately. It doesn't matter that you're in the middle of a huge ice rink. There could be a game happening around you and you wouldn't care, not when it's just you and Gritty, his powerful body against yours.

You giggle as he nuzzles your neck. You should probably take your skates off. In fact, with the way things are going, you should probably take everything off.

It's going to be a hell of a night.