#Brady Skjei | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thewintersoldierdisaster · 2 months

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a/n: i really just wanted to write some soft brady and then a little smut snuck in there whoops (don’t think anyone will complain lol) but anyway, i love this version of soft, domestic brady and i needed it for my sanity 🫠 also if anyone has any idea what brady’s dogs’ names are, that would be helpful otherwise i’m either going to rename them or just keep referring to them as “the dogs” 😭

word count: 3.2k

tw: pregnancy, innuendo, grinding, nipple play, otherwise it’s mostly just domestic fluff

summary: a quiet night in with brady gets handsy and then it’s not such a quiet night anymore

Brady’s sitting at the foot of the bed, baby monitor in hand, when you pad out of the bathroom, letting a cloud of lavender and eucalyptus steam dissipate into the air. He looks up at you and offers up a tired smile, “baby duck’s out like a light and I only had to read Curious George three times tonight.” He pauses and adds, “dogs are standing guard in the hallway outside her room too.”

“Down from four,” you smile, “I’m impressed, daddy.”

Brady’s lips tilt up in a smirk - you know exactly what you’re doing - and he sets the baby monitor down on the mattress. “Thought you were going to wait for me,” he says, “so we could shower together?”

You shake your head a little, the towel gaping open over your bump, exposing most of your lower half to your husband. You don’t miss the way his gaze flickers down to the swell of your stomach and lower. “I needed to wash off the day,” you say around a little yawn. “Growing two more Skjei babies is exhausting work.”

“C’mere,” he waves his hand in the air, pats the mattress. “Let me take care of you.”

Brady gets up from the mattress and pulls you in for a sweet kiss, cupping your jaw in one hand. You smile against his lips and sit down heavily on the mattress when he pulls away. Your hand automatically finds the curve of your stomach, the bump feeling harder and the babies rolling around under your skin. One of them kicks at your palm and you smile, hormonal tears welling up. You’ll never get over the feeling of them wiggling around inside of you.

“Lay back, sweetheart,” Brady encourages you softly, holding your Nivea body lotion in one hand. “Full service lotion and massage coming up.”

“Full service?” You wiggle your eyebrows at him while you lean back, hauling a pillow from the top of the bed down to tuck under your head. The towel that was barely wrapped around your body to begin with falls to your sides, leaving you completely exposed to Brady, the swell of your stomach blocking your view of him a little.

He gazes at you softly, eyes lingering on your fuller breasts and bare cunt. You prop up on the pillow a bit, smiling to yourself when you see the tenting behind his boxers. Not that you’re quite in the mood for sex right now, nausea your ever-present companion this pregnancy, but it’s nice to know that Brady’s still attracted to you.

“If that’s what you want,” Brady laughs quietly, pumping some lotion into the palm of his hand. He lifts your left foot and sets it on his thigh so he can start rubbing lotion into your skin. “You know I’m always happy to get my hands on you in any way I can.”

You hum happily, the faint pulse between your legs only adding to the experience of Brady’s impromptu massage. His thumbs dig into the ball of your foot and you groan as he hits a particularly sensitive spot. “Right there, oh my god. I didn’t realize how sore my feet were,” you sigh, wiggling your toes in his grip.

Brady continues his massage, making sure each of your muscles are loose before moving on. The babies tumble around in your womb, the familiar feeling as reassuring as your own heartbeat.

“Should we find you better sneakers or something?” Brady asks, switching to lotion and massage your other foot. Your leg splays out to the side, giving him the perfect view of your cunt and normally you’d feel mild embarrassment about being so exposed, even to your husband, but you’re too tired to even care. “You shouldn’t be wearing anything that has bad support.”

“Mhm, my Adidas ones are fine,” you hum, eyes closing a little as Brady’s hands work lotion into your skin. He massages the backs of your thighs and slides his hands under your body to cop a feel of your ass, under the guise of lotioning you up there too. You crack an eye open at him and he’s smiling boyishly. His hair flops over his forehead a little, eyes sparkling.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he presses a kiss to the inside of your knee. “You know I love your ass.”

“It used to be so nice too,” you sigh mournfully. You’re flatter than a pancake now, no matter how many pregnancy-safe squats you do. Brady pinches you gently.

“Still really nice,” he says, drawing his hands around your sides and resting them on your hips. “Whole body is gorgeous, my beautiful wife.”

You wrinkle your nose at him, “flatterer.” Your foot kicks gently at his thigh and he sticks his tongue out at you playfully. He sits in between your legs, dragging you forward a little so your legs are on either side of his, ass in the cradle of his legs, cunt nearly pressed against his clothed cock. More lotion gets pumped into his hands and he takes a minute to warm it up before smoothing it over the swell of your stomach. His hands are huge and span nearly across the entire bump, radiating warmth and making the babies kick.

“Can’t wait to feel these guys kick,” he says, rubbing his thumbs in little arcs over your skin. You can feel them react to his touch and smile softly.

“They’re going nuts right now,” you reply, shifting slightly. You wince when one of them gets a good, hard kick in. “All the Skjei babies love listening to their Daddy’s voice.”

He huffs a little laugh through his nose and continues massaging lotion into your skin, until your stomach is practically shiny. “How were salt and pepper today? Behaving?” He presses a kiss to your stomach, resting his cheek against the peak of the swell briefly. The rasp of his playoff beard against your skin sends a little shiver up your spine and heat between your legs.

You grin at the nicknames - ever since you’d found out it was twins, you and Brady have been referring to them by the names of famous duos. It’s been fun coming up with new pairings whenever you talk about the twins.

“Rolling around in there like little athletes-to-be,” you run a hand through Brady’s hair. “Salt’s hanging out low on my bladder and Pepper’s wedged up under my ribs. It already feels like they’re running out of room and we still have three and a half months to go.”

“Behave for your mama,” Brady mumbles against your stomach, tapping at the sides of your stomach with his fingers. The babies react to his voice and touch, jockeying for space and you wince a little until they settle. Brady looks up at you and once he’s satisfied that you’re comfortable, he adds another layer of lotion to your stomach before working his way up your chest, being gentle around your sore, swollen breasts. You sigh contentedly and relax back into the mattress, watching Brady’s hands work slowly and methodically over your chest, thumbs carefully passing over your nipples. They tighten under his touch and Brady smirks at you.

“My second favorite set of twins,” he teases, laughing. “Getting bigger by the day.”

“Shut up, perv,” you tease back, rolling your leg to knock against his side with your knee. “These are functional tits now, not for play.”

“Let me know when they’re for fun again,” Brady grins, still working his fingers over your skin. Your body knows and loves his touch, fingertips tingling and stomach tightening. You exhale, dropping your head back against the pillow and spreading your legs open a little wider. The hard press of Brady’s cock against your core is nice, the heat making you wiggle against him. His fingers falter a little against your skin.

You hum. “Maybe they can handle a little fun,” you murmur, pressing down as best you can over Brady’s groin. “Just a little.”

“Tell me when you’ve had enough, sweetheart,” Brady replies, rolling one of your pebbled nipples with his fingers You hiss at the sensation, arching a little into his touch. His other hand kneads at the swell of your breast, fingers digging into the curve that spills to the side of your torso. A frisson of desire curls your toes and you push up on one hand, trying to get a little more pressure from Brady’s cock.

“Ah, I…” you trail off, finding the position that has the ridge of Brady’s erection pressed right up against your swollen clit. “Oh! There!”

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” Brady murmurs, dipping his head to kiss you, sliding his tongue over your lower lip. His hips move slowly under you, rolling up into yours and pressing his cock against your clit. You sigh into his mouth, arms wrapped around his neck and nails scratching gently at his skin. He trails his mouth down over your neck, kissing and sucking lightly until he gets to the swell of your breast. He presses a sweet kiss to the top curve and then sucks your nipple into his mouth, flicking his tongue over the pebbled nub. He pulls back almost as quick, sticking his tongue out and frowning. “Ugh, maybe I should’ve done that before lotioning you up. You taste like Nivea.”

You giggle, breathless. “Could’ve been worse,” you murmur, using your grip around his neck to shift until you’re straddling him, the curve of your stomach pressed against his, your clit right over his cock. His hands wrap around your back and hold you in place so you can grind down over him at your own pace. “At least I’m clean.”

Brady’s hips bounce up into yours and his hands roam up and down your back, the tight coil of your building orgasm gripping your lower stomach. You bury your face in his neck and gasp, arousal trickling down your thighs and soaking the fabric of Brady’s boxers. The damp fabric rubs against your clit, giving you just enough friction that you’re coming with a gush over Brady’s lap, panting from the exertion of moving your body and the diminished lung capacity from your growing stomach. All the extra blood flow in your body has you over sensitive and it’s never been easier to come, when you’re in the mood.

“Good girl,” Brady praises you, smoothing down your hair and pressing kisses over the parts of your face he can reach. “Feels good, right? Having a little fun?”

“Mhm,” you hum tiredly, slumped over his chest, thighs shaking. The babies kick wildly, your heartbeat jackhammering in your chest. “No more fun, too tired.”

Your husband laughs and lets you drape over him like a limp rag. “I know, but you needed that,” he scrapes his hand through your hair, pulling out the loose hair tie with the other before working your hair back up into a messy bun. “You feel like you’re about to pass out.”

“Just wanna cuddle with you,” you murmur, kissing the side of his neck. You shift on his lap, erection still poking into your ass. You feel bad, but your entire body is limp and you couldn’t help Brady get off if you tried.

Brady adjusts you, bracing one arm under your ass so he can lie you back down on the mattress. The front of his boxers are a mess and you wince at the tented fabric. He catches where your gaze lands and shakes his head, “hey, don’t worry about me. I’m going to clean you up and we’ll get into bed for some rest, okay?”

You yawn and nod, thighs still trembling as Brady goes about wiping between your legs with the towel from your shower. He finishes applying lotion to your arms, lacing his fingers with yours and squeezing them when he’s done. At one point, he gets off the bed and comes back with your preferred loungewear - an extremely oversized waffle knit set of wide legged pants and pullover - gently manipulating your limbs into the fabric.

“You’re so good,” you mumble, half asleep. You crawl under the covers, pushing a pillow between your legs to get comfortable.

“You make it easy,” Brady counters, swapping his wet boxers for a clean pair before climbing into bed behind you. He pulls you close to his chest, wrapping his arms around you and tucking your head under his chin. One palm is warm and solid, curved protectively over your stomach. “Get some sleep, sweetheart.”

You’re asleep before he even finishes talking, waking up later, when you hear some noise coming from the baby monitor. A muffled grumble is all you can manage before Brady is kissing the top of your head, telling you that he’s got it. The mattress dips and shifts as he gets up and even though sleep is pulling at your eyelids, you start to wake up, yawning.

Through the monitor, you can hear Brady talking softly to Daphne, her toddler gibberish coming through loud and clear. A tap on the screen of your phone informs you that it’s only 2 in the morning, and she’s been sleeping through the night for at least a year now, so you wonder what woke her up. You roll over slightly and watch on the little screen as Brady lifts your daughter out of her crib, the dogs gathered around his legs. Daphne wraps her little arms and legs around Brady like an octopus and your heart squeezes at how cute they are, even in the shitty screen of the monitor. Brady stands by the crib, swaying a little, clearly trying to get her back to sleep.

It obviously doesn’t work, because soon enough, Brady is making his way out of the nursery that won’t be the nursery for much longer. The dogs follow him out of the room and in a few seconds, Brady’s back in your room, Daphne curled up against his shoulder and a wry smile on his face.

“What happened?” You ask quietly, pulling the covers back so they can join you in bed. The dogs are nowhere to be found and you assume they’re in a pile in the hallway as usual.

“Hi, mama!” Daphne chirps, too awake for this early in the morning. Her tiny fists are curled around the corner of her blanket and the collar of Brady’s shirt and she beams at you with that adorable toddler smile you love so much.

“Hi, my little duck,” you hold out your arms for her and she releases Brady to come to you, tucked safety against your chest, hand splayed right over your heart. “Why aren’t you asleep?”

Brady pulls the covers up around the three of you and props his head up on his hand, looking down at Daphne with a soft expression on his face.

“See nana,” she says against your shirt. “Time see nana?”

You stroke her soft hair, pulling the messy pieces off her forehead. “Oh, not yet, baby. It’s not time to see Nana. She’s coming in a couple of days, for Daddy’s big games,” you murmur soothingly. Brady’s parents are coming to Raleigh for the start of the playoffs in a few days and Daphne’s beyond excited to see them.

“Nana’s coming soon,” Brady promises. “But you have to go to sleep.”

“Nana now!” Daphne huffs, kicking her little feet. “See nana!”

“We’re going to spend so much time with Nana,” you continue to stroke her hair, encouraged by the way her eyelids take a few extra second to open when she blinks. “After Daddy’s big games, we’re going to Minnesota and we’re going to see Nana every day.”

You look over at Brady, “that reminds me, we need to finalize the plans. Because I don’t want to be flying back and forth after a certain point and I don’t want Hall and Oates to be born in Minnesota.”

He rubs his hand over Daphne’s back steadily. “We can always drive. But we’ll be back home weeks before the babies are due,” he reassures you. “Can’t stay too long anyway, with training camp starting.”

You hum, looking forward to a few weeks in Minnesota with Brady’s family and a quiet summer spent by the lake. Daphne tugs at your shirt and you look down at her, waiting. She pats your stomach and grins, “babies! Mama babies!”

“That’s right,” you smile tiredly, cuddling her close. “The babies are here with Mama and Daddy. They’re Daphne’s babies, right? You’re going to be such a good big sister.”

She wriggles away from your embrace, flopping onto her back, arms and legs starfished in between you and Brady. Heaving a sigh that’s very dramatic for such a small frame, she reaches one hand to grab at Brady’s shirt again. “Dada, book?” She blinks up at him with wide eyes and a little smile.

Brady’s head falls back against the pillow dramatically and you giggle along with Daphne, who’s amused by Daddy’s silliness.

“Daffy duck wants another story?” Brady asks, kissing Daphne’s cheeks until she’s giggling madly, squirming around on the bed. You don’t love that he’s riling her up, but they’re honestly too adorable to say anything.

“Book!” She confirms on a giggled squeal. “George!”

“Curious George?” Brady groans. “Nothing else?

Daphne shakes her head at him with a wide smile on her face. You laugh at him, “that’s one on the Curious George count for today.”

“Don’t remind me,” he mutters, climbing back out of bed and flipping the covers up so you both stay warm. Daphne presses her blanket close to her face and yawns, rolling onto Brady’s side of the bed while he’s gone. You pat at her little pajama covered butt and she whips her head over to give you a little squint.

“No, mama!” She tells you seriously. “I s’eep.”

You barely stifle a snort. This kid.

“Okay, baby, you sleep,” you tell her, managing to smile just a little bit. “We’ll keep the bed warm for Daddy.”

Brady’s back less than two minutes later, bright yellow Curious George book in hand. He stops short when he sees Daphne on his side of the bed and plants his hands on his hips. “Hey, that’s Daddy’s side,” he tells her, faux-seriously, breaking into a chuckle.

She giggles up at him from behind her hands. “Daddy in middle!”

“Nope,” Brady shakes his head, “Daphy in middle. Scoot.”

She wiggles her entire body in the way only a two-year-old can, kicking at blankets and sheets. Brady gives her a little nudge with one hand and she shimmies to the side, making space for him. You wrap her up in your arms, holding her tight, kissing the top of her head.

It’s so early and you’re going to be exhausted in the morning, but as Brady starts reading the book he could definitely recite from memory at this point, Daphne’s attention wholly on the pictures, you’ve never been more glad for the wake up.

Daphne’s little hand wraps around your fingers draped over her little baby gut and her cheek is squished against your inner bicep. Her tiny body radiates heat like a furnace and you’re just soaking up all the moments where it’s just the three of you.

Under the covers, Brady lets his legs drift over and tangle with yours, sharing a soft smile with you over Daphne’s head. He winks at you and you beam back, letting your eyes drift shut and Brady’s voice lull you to sleep.

#brady skjei #brady skjei x reader #brady skjei x you #brady skjei fic #nhl fic

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