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nylwnder · 2 months

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polaroids

a/n: happy third smutty fic drop and happy valentines day (2 days late) <3333333333 pls enjoy this self indulgent daddy dilf captain fic cause i wanted to defy the odds and write for him cause im THAT slut!

pairing: john tavares x wife!reader

warning: SMUT, use of camera during sex, fingering, oral (f & m receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, lotus position, creampie, voyeurism, polaroids being found, mom!reader, mention of his kids (because they are the cutest)

word count: 2.9k

taglist: @shoot-the-puck , @11livpangburn , @domi-max , @boqvistsbabe , @sweetiet , @p1tstop , @occasionallyaurora , @laurenairay , @fallinallincurls , @andrea9

series masterpost

the polaroid slowly spills out of the camera before you grab it to put it on the nightstand.

your husband turns to fully look at you and you face him with a giggle. he was standing on the opposite side from the bed as he was trying to undress from his suit. “mm, didn't know i was on camera” he mumbled, with a smile.

“you can't expect me to not feel a type of way with you in that suit.” you say, moving yourself closer to him, your legs dangling off the bed.

it was the first weekend in a while where the kids were at your parents’ place. so john took you out for dinner to one of your favourite spots.

“plus i haven't used this thing in so long,” you mentioned, turning the camera to see how many polaroids you have left. “nine left”

john grabbed the camera out of your hands, putting it to his face in order to take a picture of you. you were still wearing the dress you put on for dinner. “its only fair.”

the camera clicked again and a polaroid slowly etched its way out once again. the picture developed and soon showed you sat with a perfect smile on your face. your husband smiled at the photograph.

“why stop there?” you stated more so than anything, but kept a soft voice. john looked at you and you watched him back, slipping your bottom lip between your teeth. it was a thought you have had in your mind once or twice.

he set the camera gently aside. grabbing your arms to stand up with him. he reached for the zipper on your back and the material fell off you in a second, revealing a black babydoll slip dress you had on under. john grabs your dinner dress and throws it onto the bench that sits at the end of the bed.

you both break into a smile, as you wrap your arms around his neck. you pressed your lips to him as his hands travelled down your body, squeezing his favourite parts. soon his hands scoop you up and your legs habitually wrap around his torso as you don't break the link between the two of you.

that is until john drops you onto the bed. your hair sprawls out on the bed sheets as a frame around your face. your lips are plump from your kissing and your face is blushy. the lace slip laying delicately on your skin.

flash shined through the room as another polaroid was placed on the nightstand.

you sat up to kiss john again, your hands exploring his chest as more than half of the buttons from his shirt were already open. he catched your lips and your body already felt so hot.

laying back down, john pulls your legs forward so that the plant of your feet sits on his folded knees. that only meant your slip dress ruffled up, making your husband have a perfect view of your matching underwear. a wet spot was slowly forming on the thin material and you felt slightly embarrassed. he hasn't even done anything to you, you thought.

you've been with john for basically half of your life, which only means he has seen you in multiple different situations. he knows his effect on you and your growing wetness brings nothing but a smile to his face, every time. even if he's barely touched you. it's a compliment if anything else.

so why not take a picture, he thought.

you blushed, even more heavenly now. its impossible to even try to feel embarrassed with this man, you thought. though, your body was more so waiting for john to take away the thin separation between him and your core.

so when his fingers hooked on the band of your underwear, rolling them down your legs and discarding them to the side, you couldn't help but let out a little whine.

john took a deep breath as he looked at your dewy cunt. but instead of touching it himself, he took one of your hands and sucked two of your fingers in his mouth. your own mouth opened just a slight and your clit throbbed as you watched him. his eyes, which are looking at you, are far darker now.

“touch yourself, darling.” john demanded, keeping the camera close to reach.

following his words, your wet fingers made their way to your pussy. collecting your own juices and playing with your clit before teasing your hole. john watched closely, his one hand holding your leg apart from the other.

you let out small moans as you worked yourself like you have for years. but you couldn't help but look at your husband in front of you, begging he was the one to bring you to an orgasm next. and the stroking of your fingers was enough to start building a tent in john’s dress pants.

he kept licking his lips as you etched yourself closer and closer. feeling the coil in your stomach near to snap, you threw your head back while biting your lip once again. your fingers deep in your pussy jt took another picture.

by the time john put the film aside you began bringing yourself down from your high. removing your hand from your dripping folds, your husband was quick to close the gap between the two of you. moaning in his mouth as his tongue slipped in between your lips.

pulling apart for air you gave john room to leave kisses along your jaw and neck. moving downwards, as he moved your small dress upwards, your body gave a shiver as his lips kissed your cunt. though the touch so soft you barely felt it, not with the fire burning inside you as he watches you with amorous eyes.

“johnny…” you whined softly, your face with a needy pout. quite honestly, nobody has made you ache between your thighs more than the brown eyed man right below you. you're just grateful he’s your husband, so you can have him at your full disposal.

a subtle smirk appears on john’s face. “of course, angel.”

his head leaned on your inner thigh, taking in the sight of your glistening, dripping cunt once again. a sight he will never get sick of. he slid just one finger in between your wet folds, splitting you open in order to rub the tip of his finger against your clit. your hips chased the friction immediately.

but he was quick to open you up with his mouth and you whimpered and twisted at the delicious feeling of his tongue flat on your pussy. he kissed and nipped gently but firmly, devouring you like a man starved from dinner, despite having eaten your cunt more than the two of you can count.

this time you felt the pressure in your lower belly build easily. faster than with your mediocre fingers. “so close” you murmured with an arched back.

“let me taste you, darling. want to taste that sweetness of yours.”

his lips laying kisses near your entrance as he spoke, his tongue began to move in and out. grabbing the camera from the side, you figured you'd get in on the photoshoot.

its only fair.

moving your free hand to lightly tug on johnny’s hair, you snap a picture before your moans overtake you and your orgasm washes over you.

john catched every drop of your nectar before gracing your cunt with some more kisses. tugging for him by the waves of his hair, he makes his way back up, wrapping his arms under you to pull you up to his lap. reaching for his lips, you grind down at the bulge that sat under you.

you earned a moan from the man, doing it again just to hear the sweet vibrations in your ear.

getting up and pulling him with you, you begin to untug the button up from john’s pants. swiping it off his broad body, it falls to the floor behind him. your hands explore his skin, following the lines of his shoulders down to his stomach. leaving baby kisses over his collarbone, your finger lightly lines his snail trail. so featherlike, you receive a shiver from john. your hands are quick to work his belt and the zipper of his dress pants. yanking them down, your lips connect for a kiss.

you slowly drag his boxers down as you move with them. kneeling on the soft carpet that surrounded your bed, you look up at john. sharing the prettiest of doe eyes, a whine escapes your lips as your hand wraps around his length. red at the tip and thick, aching for a release of his own.

“wanna taste too” you ask, so gently, so innocently against his cock.

“taste all you want, honey.” he replies, filled with an admiring yet anticipating look.

you take the tip of his cock in your mouth, savouring the taste of him. opening your mouth wider you take in his full length and you both let out a moan.

you lick from the base to the tip repeatedly. then bringing your focus back to the head of his cock. quickly, you bring one hand to the base and the other to his balls.

“fuck, sweet girl. just like that.” he moans out as his hips buck, forcing the tip of his cock all the way into your mouth. you gag a slight before adjusting yourself and returning back to your pace.

this is like muscle memory to you, but regardless, you would do anything to see his face scrunch in pleasure and his groans fill the room.

and to hear your name fall off his lips.

which he does as you deepthroat him once more, with teary eyes as you squeeze his balls again and moan for his release.

before he does, he reaches for the camera and catches you looking up at him through your eyelashes. cheeks flush and lips slick with spit around his cock.

he hums in enjoyment as the film is placed to the side once again.

“mm you ready to swallow me up, darling?”

“yes”

“every drop?”

“every drop.” you say with a kiss to his tip as your hands begin to work his length.

it wasn't long before his twitches freed the warm seed in your mouth, looking up at john as he watched you gulp it down.

cleaning off a drop from the corner of your lips, he makes you suck his finger before squeezing your soft chin.

“that's my good girl. always so good for me, huh angel?”

you smile. “mhm” you say, pushing him down on the bed by straddling him again. this time your pussy had full access to his bare thighs. buff and hard, you always stared, even in his blue joggers. and especially when he sat down, all sprawled out, fitting both jace and ax on either leg. rae on his chest.

the father he was, so kind and gentle. so patient and caring. supportive and protective.

he was everything you could ask for and more.

he made it easy. even if he wasn't around sometimes, but when he was, you were at total repose.

his hands ruffled up your slip to tug it off and over your head. “need to see my beautiful wife” he says softly. your bra was equally discarded, john smiled as your breasts sat perfectly in front of him, all for him.

laying on his back he reaches for the camera again by the pillow. he puts it up to his face and the flash shines once more, your bottom lip caught in your teeth slightly. “so gorgeous.”

he sits back up and pulls your hips closer, your nipples rubbing against his chest hair. you whine out gently. his hands cup the curves of them as your hands play with his hair. he leaves warm kisses on the crook of your neck, down to your collarbone and back up to your lips.

you roll your hips habitually, the base of his cock swiping your clit just for a moment. “let me feel you john.” you plead, mouth close to his ear. “i want to feel you deep inside me.”

john lifted your body up in order to slide his cock to your entrance. sitting down on the thick length, you let out a throaty moan. you’d been craving this the whole night. your legs wrap around his waist, putting the both of you into a sitting position with his cock tucked in you.

“feels so good” you breathed out.

“you hug my cock so well, darling.” john says, as you move slowly.

you both shared long, passionate kisses as you continued to gracefully move your hips. the feeling of him deep in you is already enough to get you somewhere.

john loves this position since he can roam his hands over your body and lock his lips with yours with such comfort and ease. but most importantly: watch you fall apart while his cock is hitting the best places inside of you.

whispering sweet things in your ear, john begins to rut his hips upwards. with his movements, he starts penetrating further up against your g-spot, causing you to whine and squirm in his touch.

“that’s it, sweet girl”

he kept his thrusts steady and firm. you were soon being bounced on his length with the help of his strong thighs and arms. “fuck johnny” you yelped, hands on his shoulders for support and your eyes fluttering shut in pleasure. his head is in between your breasts and sharing some grunts against your shiny skin.

your moist walls naturally squeeze around his length, but you could feel his twitching as the two of you moved in unison.

“cum for me angel. let it all drip down.” john dictates, pressing a kiss to your temple.

you let your hips ride out the fire within you. you rolled them, swayed them, as john still pumped into your core. not soon after, with the way your breasts bounced, and how your moans echoed in the room, his own release found home inside you. the warm feeling, so familiar and so comforting.

as you fell back on the bed, john got up and slipped out of you. you closed your legs but you whined at the void.

“let me see” he says softly, using his palms to spread your legs apart. your conjoined cum began to slip out of your pink pussy. john couldn't help but groan at the sight, your head still a bit high.

“quite lewd don't you think?” he says with a smirk, as he clicked the camera button.

he pushed the seed back in with his fingers, as deep as he could go. you whined and arched a bit at the sensitivity. “need that all tucked in there.”

“feel so full”

“good.” you smile at his words.

you took the camera from his hand, “one left.” he nodded his head in your direction, letting you know you could use the final one.

you looked at his body for a bit, and took your hand to lightly scratch down his chest to his stomach. your eyes tracing his v-line, as his cock slowly began to soften. you kept your hand on his torso as you brought the camera to your face with the other. making sure to check that you capture just enough of him — what you would want to see when the bed is empty.

the click projected the last polaroid from the film cartridge. you sat up, john reaching for the pile he had made of you. you grabbed them, reviewing them with a blush across both of your faces.

“you better hope nobody finds them.”

—

william wasn't a nosy guy. per say. but when he was handed john's wallet, from the captain himself, he couldn't help but notice the bright white bottom frames sticking out of a slot. the more he moved the wallet to grab the card, the more they tried to slip out.

after securing their purchase, and beginning to walk off to the direction of the table, willy kept his head down to look at the wallet in his free hand. john found him on the way, “everything good?” he asked which, startled the blonde, resulting in the drop of the wallet.

and the polaroids all together.

“shit im sorry man” willy said, going down to help grab the fallen articles. john stood still.

despite the fact the light was dim, it was enough for the swede to see who and what the photos were about. he couldn't help but stay eyes wide as he handed the pile and the wallet back to john. william was rarely fazed, or nervous, but this got him.

he was a little surprised to be faced with a smirking john, but nevertheless he apologised again.

“is that um-”

“y/n? yes will, its my wife.”

he nodded along as they walked back to the table. his eyes caught you as you sat with a wide smile talking with the other wags and guys. he didn't want to think of you, his teammate’s — let alone his captain’s — wife, like that but he couldn't help but feel an affinity for you now.

john sat down beside you, arms wrapping around your frame quickly as he kissed your temple. you turned your head to look up at him, giving him a peck on his lips. “come to the bathroom, angel.”

your body tensed at his quiet words, his hand rubbing your arm. “need to feel you. right now.” your legs pressed hard together, giving a light nod, anticipating what was to come.

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leafs-lover · 1 month

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Too Far Gone - Part Fifty Six

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, smut - fingering, cum play, dirty talk, maybe a slight voyeurism kink, interrupted sex, inadvertent orgasm deprivation, light degradation? I think that's it, let me know if I missed anything

Series Masterlist

Word Count: 6,000

Auston didn’t know when they went to bed. The curtains had been left open and the faint glow from the moon was filtering in, but he had to make good on that promise from the roof. And even then, he wasn’t done because they were both drenched in sweat, and there is something about warm beads of water cascading over his girlfriend’s chest that always ended with Auston on his knees.

Sure, it could be considered reckless to stay up that late given they have a three-year-old who has been known to barge in before the sun broke the horizon looking for breakfast. But what was Auston supposed to do, not celebrate the fact Tia finally admitted she loved him? They had talked about getting a puppy, having more kids, getting married, they planned their future, but hearing those words roll off her tongue cemented to him that it was real. As if those four years were nothing more than a long and hazy nightmare he finally awoke from.

When Auston did wake up around 9:20, he planned on quietly crawling out of bed, finding Taylour (he knew one of his friends was keeping him entertained for the time being) and wrangling his help to make her breakfast in bed. A simple gesture, one he had been deprived of for so long. It was his plan, and it was a great plan, then he saw the faint marks on her shoulders, the marks he left, and everything changed. All reason was long gone, and his primal instinct took over. If he could keep her there all day, he would.

“Aus.”

Her nails scratch along his broad shoulder and her body arches into him. Even though she is pulsing with oversensitivity, she doesn’t know if she’s had enough, if she ever will have enough.

“Babe –“ She gasps, sharply.

“What?” He grins, moustache tickling her ear.

“We gotta to get up.” He can tell she wants there to be weight behind the words, but her body is saying something completely different. “So much to do…”

“How am I supposed to get anything done when you’re naked in our bed?” Auston murmurs thickly against her jaw.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

The sheets are a mess. Pillows are on the floor. The stench of sex is heavy in the room.

“So...” His hands roam all over her body. He cups her breast, which somehow overflows in his big hands. “What’s on your list this morning?”

“Yoga.”

“Pretty sure we already did that.” Satisfaction curls on his lips.

“I want to finish up something I’ve been working on…” She trails off for a moment as he licks up her neck, tongue following the bite marks left the night before. “Have to check in with Becks…” Auston grins, the heat flaring behind her cheeks says that won’t happen anytime soon.

“What about fucking your boyfriend?” Auston’s fingers carve into the swollen flesh of her ass.

“I believe I did that already.” He moves his fingers around to her pussy lips and the inside of her thighs, and they are wet, absolutely drenched in their hot sticky mess. “That’s why we’re still in bed.”

“You should put it back on the list, maybe twice.” Auston’s mouth slowly begins to work its way down, first to her collarbone, then her breasts. As his warm tongue swirls around her sensitive nipple, her slick grazes over his member and a deep guttural groan erupts.

“Is that so?” She breathes out a laugh while tugging harshly on his curls.

“Yeah.” Two fingers once again find their way inside. Her body arks toward him and within a few seconds they begin to move. The disgusting slurp of her cunt fills the room as he thrusts them faster and faster. Her walls greedily grasp and hug his digits, never wanting to let him go. Her elbows give out and her body collapses into the bed, quickly and desperately clawing at the sheets.

Auston smirks and applies more pressure. His left hand grabs at her knee and tosses it over his shoulder, earning him a shriek from the deepest part of her diaphragm. Auston fucks his fingers back inside. Every stroke is precise, his knuckles crooked at the knuckle to create the perfect angle. “Can’t decide if I want to eat the cum out of you before I fill you back up.” Auston licks his bottom lip, his fingers massaging her g-spot. “Or if I should bury myself inside and make ya overflow…what do you think?”

“Fuck me.” Tia whispers to herself.

Auston chuckles, a little breathless. “I’m going to.” He circles his thumb around her clit, fingers rhythmically seeking her high. “You taste so good, can only dream of what we taste like together.”

Tia whimpers at the emptiness as Auston pulls his fingers out. He brings them up to her mouth, and without instruction Tia drops her jaw and wraps her lips around them. They both moan as she swirls her tongue around his digits, working to clean the mess. Quickly, he snaps his wrist and runs the saliva and cum coated fingers along her jaw. With a cocky brow raise, he shoves his tongue into her mouth.

“Better than I imagined.”

His hand moves to her hair, and she bites at her lower lip. He knows she washed her hair yesterday. He also knows she will scold him for this later. He just doesn’t care. He moves the head of his shaft down through her folds, allowing it to rest at the opening for just a second, then he buries himself deep inside her warmth.

He messily kisses her once again, taking the time to embrace the wetness that oozes out around his cock. He pulls his hips back, and right before he is about to drive back inside, her hands are on his shoulder trying to push him away.

“Stop.” Her eyes snap open, wide with fear. His brows contort with confusion, then he hears it. Little feet pattering down the hall, his playful giggle getting louder and louder with every step. They both knew they were pushing their luck going for round two, but like a moth to a flame, Auston couldn’t pull himself away.

“Taylour, come on bud, let’s go.” Fred’s voice calls, louder than normal trying to warn those on the other side.

The doorknob begins to jiggle. Tia’s breathing becomes frantic . The slow creak gets louder and louder, and Taylour’s voice enters the room. “I want to show them my trick.”

The more the door opens the more Tia’s face whitens. Auston scrambles off her and scours the floor for a shirt, pants, some piece of clothing to toss on before Taylour barrels in. But everything is everywhere, all he can find is the sheet which he tosses toward Tia.

“Mommy and Daddy are sleeping.” Fred tells him, pulling the door shut. “Why don’t we practice more, and you can show them when they wake up?”

“Because practice makes perfect,” Taylour agrees with a nod.

“Right.” Fred nods down the hall. “Let’s go.”

Auston waits a few seconds until Taylour’s feet are down the hall, then calls out, “Thanks Fred.”

“Yup,” Fred hollers through the door.

“I’m not sure about this.” Tia runs her finger along the strap, then smooths over her stomach.

Once they heard the footsteps fade down the hall and the stair boards creak, Auston and Tia were out of bed. Tia ran a comb through her hair while glaring at Auston for the ends that had fused together, then swiftly threw it up on the top of her head. Auston grabbed a bathing suit –because every day ends with them in the pool – and one of his t-shirts. The two of them went downstairs and Tia started making them smoothies, and Auston set out to get the avocado ready for their breakfast. After inhaling their food, Auston was outside, showing off his backflips – always a favourite with Taylour - and Tia was upstairs in her sewing room.

Once the workspace was mostly complete, she finished the couple orders that were outstanding, then set out designing a few new pieces to expand her line. She sketched out seven new pieces, three of them made it through the 3D rendering, then she began the process of cutting fabric, pinning it together and trying to bring her visions to life. One was easy, only needed a few minor tweaks but was now ready to go to the testing phase. The other two she has been stuck on. Nothing seemed to work, and Tia was about ready to scrap them both and start over, but before that she decided to reach out to the one person that might be able to help.

Celeste presses her glasses back up her nose and shuffles in her seat, as if trying to get a better view from Toronto.

“Yeah…” She hims through the speaker. “I see what you were talking about…I think the point near your underarm needs to go up a bit.” Tia turns toward the camera and lifts her arm, then points to the area she assumes Celeste is talking about. “Yeah,” she confirms. “It’s a little…” her face crinkles as she thinks over the next word.

“Aggressive?”

Celeste feigns a laugh. “That may not be the word I’d use…but yes.”

“The prototype looked so good.” Tia sighs. She thought the dress was going to be the easiest to bring to life. But when she tried the top on it sat low, dangerously low, to a point if Tia moved too much everything spilled out. Despite Auston’s objections, she added fabric to the bodice to bring the neckline up, only it came up too much. Next, she cut a bit out but then she didn’t like the neckline, it was too squared off and simple, so she tried to curve it but overcompensated as indents are being left in her skin.

“That’s why we test them out. I can’t tell you how many pieces I thought were good until I tried them on.” Celeste tries to reassure her with a faint laugh, but this part never gets easy. “It’s not that far off, dear.”

“Yeah.” Tia’s nose crinkles again, almost at her wits end with this one.

“What about the top you were working on.” Celeste steers the conversation away, hoping it has better results. “You decide on a sleeve?”

A few days ago, Tia sent Celeste a picture of a satin top with a simple square neck and subtle pleats in the bodice. The hem was unfinished and there were many pins, but what caught her attention was the two distinctly different sleeves styles. One was short and puffy, and the other was a simple and slender arm with a bell style sleeve. Tia said she was unsure of which one worked best. Celeste called it a copout, called her out to doubt herself and said she wasn’t going to help. It might have been tough, but Celeste knew she needed to make this decision on her own.

“Yay!” Celeste claps when she sees the long and flowy sleeve. This was always the right choice; she is glad Tia figured it out on her own.

“I love that one. Definitely the right pick”

“It’s playful but classic.” Tia smiles with her mentor’s reassurance.

“Completely elevates that top. Tia, I know I’ve said this before, but you have a bright future ahead of you, some people are years in the industry without the eye you have.”

“Thanks.” Tia softly laughs, a faint blush swarming her cheeks.

Now that the prototype is complete, it’s ready for Tia to make a few more and ship them back to the “testers” back in Toronto and get their feedback. Then there are the edits, photoshoots, uploading details to the website. Just when she thinks the finish line is near, she realizes just how far it is.

The two of them talked for a little while longer. Celeste told her about all the struggles she’d been facing as a store owner while in a global lockdown. Her store was forced closed, curbside pickup and online orders were slow, some days non-existent. It filled Tia with so many emotions but worry and regret were the ones she couldn’t shake. If someone who had been successful in the industry was struggling at the drop of a hat, what did it mean for her? Sales were slow, to be expected for a new line, but how long could they be slow before they stopped all together?

Tia put the finishing details on the shirt but left the dress on the mannequin. Normally putting it off wouldn’t be an option. It’d eat at her, knowing there was so much to do but not knowing how to fix it. But today as she walked down the hall toward the stairs, she had zero hesitation walking away because something else had consumed her mind.

“Mommy! Mommy!” Taylour screeches when the patio doors open. “Mommy, help!” He giggles mid-air as Auston tosses him to the other end of the pool, a large splash erupts around him and a few seconds later his head pokes through the surface.

“I can’t help you.” Tia chuckles as she shuffled around the pool’s edge, her feet getting kissed by the exploding water.

“Why not?” Taylour flings his arm around and starts moving toward Auston.

“Because every time I help, your dad throws me in the water.”

“Not true.” Auston winks at her.

Tia shakes her head.

“Please mommy!” Taylour squeals as Auston grabs him by the waist and once again launches him in the air.

Tia flips her wrist and glances at the time on her watch - the very expensive watch Auston brought back from the California road trip because he “thought of her when he saw it.” “We actually have to go, Taylour.”

“Nooooo!” He emphatically shakes his head.

“Yup.” Auston moves toward the stairs. The water line slowly descends, more and more of his chest coming on display for Tia to gawk at. As he moves toward the steps, he grabs Taylour and tugs him. “You said you wanted In and Out for lunch, we have to go get it.”

“Why can’t I stay with Uncle Freddie, and you bring it here.” Taylour pouts. He stands on one of the pool steps, half in – half out of the water, hoping to convince Auston to let him stay.

“Because we’re your parents not Uncle Freddie. Uncle Freddie doesn’t have to spend his time watching you.”

“I want to stay with Fweddie.”

“Well, you’re not.” Auston bites sharply, letting his frustration poke through. “You’re coming with Mommy and I.”

“I don’t want to go with you and Mommy,” he huffs, angrily smacking his hands against the water.

“Taylour, you are coming. Get out of the pool and get dressed, now.” Auston demands, but Tia catches the inflection in his voice and the smirk curving his lips.

“But why?” He raises his voice, becoming more frustrated with Auston’s unusual stern nature. Tia knew it wasn’t going to be easy getting her son from the pool, it never was.

“Because I said so.” Auston barks. “Keep it up and you won’t get to swim for the rest of the week.”

Taylour releases a loud and dramatic groan, then once again smacks his hands against the water. He stomps past Auston, grumbling under his breath, and goes right to Tia who has a warm fluffy towel waiting for him. Having lost the battle with his father, Taylour sets his sights on Tia, hoping for a different response.

“I don’t want to go, Mommy.” Taylour whined softly while he nestled his head to the crook of her neck. She hears the broken exhale and knows tears are on the way – he doesn’t handle Auston’s frustrations well - she just doesn’t know if they are real or fake.

“I know.” Tia kneels and starts rubbing her hands over his back, drying him off while softly comforting him. She gently tilts his head, and swats at the tears clinging to the corner of his eyes. “You have to come with us, sweetie.”

“Why?” Taylour sniffles, barely choking back the lump in his throat.

“Because we have a surprise for you.” Auston cards his hand through Taylour’s drenched curls and grabs his own towel.

“A surprise?!” He immediately perks up, his eyes widen and dart up to Auston. “What is it?”

“Wouldn’t be a surprise if we told you, silly.” Tia playfully boops his nose.

As if the last thirty seconds never happened, Taylour immediately takes off toward the sliding door and gives it a firm tug to drag it open. He runs inside too excited to close the door behind him, then scurries across the hardwood.

“No running on the stairs!” Auston yells after him, but he is too late, Taylour is at the top of the stairs, slipping on the hardwood as he sprints past the railing that overlooks the living room.

“What did we get ourselves into?” Tia jokingly whines when Taylour lets out an “ooh” as he uses his palms to catch himself from falling.

Auston wraps his painted arm around Tia, over her shoulder. Tia brings her hand up and grabs his, then leans against his hard chest. Little drops of water land on her shoulder and in her hair. In an almost scarily still tone he whispers, “you’re going to miss this level of calm.” The worst part is, he is right.

Like most car rides, Taylour quickly became impatient. It wasn’t long after he finished his cheeseburger and shake before the “where are we going,” “how much longer” and “are we there yet” started. They knew the almost hour drive would be long, and planned for it, but no amount of movies, superhero action figures, colouring books would be enough, when all he wanted was to do was swim.

“Mommy, I’m bored.” He whines and dramatically throws his head back against the car seat. He tosses the tablet, and it lands on the floor, bouncing on impact.

Auston huffs out a dry laugh. Like Taylour, his patience is wearing thin. “Wouldn’t be if you watched the movie.”

“I don’t want to watch the movie anymore.” Taylour promptly informs him. His feet kick against the car seat and he dramatically sighs, again.

“We’re almost there, Tay.” Tia turns in her seat and silently laughs at his outfit choice. He insisted on getting ready himself and his shoes are on the wrong feet, his shirt must have come from the laundry given the ketchup stain on the chest, and his shorts are bright neon yellow. The fashion designer in her cringes but as a mom, she is thrilled that he is dressed, and understands that some battles aren’t worth it.

“How many minutes?”

“Less than five.” She picks up the tablet and pauses the movie, then puts it in her bag.

“That’s too long.” Taylour kicks his legs out in a frustrated fit.

“Of course, it is.” Auston mutters sarcastically, his knuckles whitening around the steering wheel.

Tia snaps her head to Auston, and she gives him a look, one he hasn’t seen often but immediately recognizes. “I promise, you’re going to love your surprise.”

They continue driving down the quiet rural road, slowly maneuvering turns. Whatever playlist Auston selected is quiet, so quiet the only sound is the air conditioning whirring through the vents and the rhythmic beeping of the blinker. Tia presses her head against the window and watches the dust kick out from under the tires.

“We’re here.” Auston announces once the vehicle is parked in front of a large farmhouse.

Taylour perks up and tries to sit up in his seat as much as possible. He takes in the surroundings, a blue house with a simple white fence, not distinguishing or exciting for an almost four-year old.

“What are we doing here?” He asks, not hiding the disgruntled look on his face.

“This is a boring surprise, Daddy.”

“You sure about that?” Taylour freed himself from the car seat, and when Auston opens the door, he is quick to leap out.

“Yeah.” He crinkles his nose and closes the car door behind him. “There is no slide or pool, nothing fun.”

Tia hears small overlapping barks and yips coming from inside the home, her heart flutters. She has been waiting for this day her entire life.

Gravel crunches under her feet as she strolled around the car. She crouches down and puts her hand on her knees, bringing herself to Taylour’s eye level. She adjusts his ball cap over his curls then smiles. “Would it still be a bad surprise if we told you there were puppies inside?”

His brown eyes glow. “I want to see the puppies!” He blurts out.

Auston crouches down and smiles, almost bigger than Taylour. “What if we told you; we’re going to bring one home?”

“MY OWN PUPPY!” Taylour screams while jumping in the air.

“A family puppy.” Auston corrects him.

“I’M GETTING A PUPPY!” He shrieks, unphased by what Auston told him.

Auston knew he would be excited when he found out. He assumed there would be jumping and screaming, thought there was the possibility of joyful tears. What he didn’t count on was Taylour being so excited he’d sprint past them toward the front door without another word.

Knock. Knock. Knock. Taylour pounds on the door as hard as he can. “I’m here for my puppy!” Knock. Knock. Knock.

Auston and Tia had barely made it two steps before the door creaks open, a middle-aged woman stands on the other side.

“Hello.” She smiles to Taylour, then to Auston and Tia.

Taylour bounces on his heels, even though they can’t see his face they know he is beaming from ear to ear. “Hi, my name’s Taylour. I’m here for my puppy.”

“Taylour, you can’t just – “

“It’s fine.” She laughs, Taylour isn’t the first child to react this way. She moves to the side to let him pass then waits for Tia and Auston to make their way up the porch.

“Sorry, he has wanted a puppy since before he could walk.”

The three of them hear Taylour squeal as an overlapping chorus of barks and whines echo down the hall.

“No apologies needed.” They all step inside and see Taylour standing on the outside of the fenced in area. He is leaning as far as he can without losing his balance, scratching the tops of the puppies’ heads, giggling the entire time. “I’m Sandra, and that,” she eyes over to the full-size Bernese Mountain dog who is across from Taylour keeping a watchful eye on her pups, “is Stella the mom.” Shortly after a white poodle rounds the corner and walks right up to Auston, nudging his hand for some pets. “This suck is Teddy.”

“Hiya Teddy.” Auston bends down and is instantly met with a lick to the cheek.

“Which one is mine?” Taylour’s head is on a swivel. This puppy. That puppy. That puppy. He can barely keep up.

“We have to pick it.” Auston tells him.

“You can go in.” Sandra offers, motioning to the pen.

Auston and Tia step over the gate, then Auston hooks his arms under Taylour’s armpits to hoist him over. The three of them fall to the floor, immediately being swarmed by the puppies.

“Mommy!” Taylour giggles as one with a pink ribbon licks his cheek. “Mommy, I want this one.”

“Yeah?” She grins, gently scratching behind the ear.

“Any with a ribbon have a home already,” Sandra tells them. “They’ve all had their first round of shots and will be ready for the next one in about two weeks.”

“Daddy, look!” Taylour nods to his foot, where one is gnawing on his sock, attempting to pull it off.

“This one’s trouble huh?” Auston scoops up the black and white ball of fur, taking Taylour’s sock with him, then cradles it in his arms.

“He’s silly.” Taylour broadcasts, trying to yank the sock out of its mouth.

When the puppy keeps his jaw tightly clenched around Taylour’s sock, he sets the puppy on his lap to the ground and crawls over to Auston. He pets along its side with one hand, his other tugging on the sock, laughing the entire time. Finally, the puppy releases the sock only to start chewing at Auston’s wrist.

“I want this one.” Taylour gives it a kiss.

“Really? What about this one?” Tia eyes to the one curled in her lap, eyes getting heavy.

Taylour takes a second to glance between the two dogs, pondering Tia’s suggestion. She obviously knows just because a dog is calm now doesn’t mean it always will be, but something, most likely her motherly instinct is telling her not to pick the one already biting.

“Uhmmm.” He ponders. Taylour scoots closer to Tia to look at the puppy in her lap. “Ohh, this one is cute too, Mommy!”

“Mhm.”

Taylour’s eyes rapidly dart between the two dogs, and he appears deep in thought, but they both know he has zero selection criteria. A twinkle catches his eye, and his entire face somehow lights up even more.

“Can I have both puppies?”

“No.” Tia is very fast to answer.

“Puh-lease!” He turns to Auston. His move always is to try the other parent with hopes for a better outcome. “Please can I get two puppies, Daddy?”

Auston looks to Taylour, then to the puppy curled up in Tia’s arms sleeping, then to the one nibling at his wrist, and sighs. “I don’t think –“

“Please, Daddy! They can play together.” He eagerly cuts him off, desperately trying to bring home two dogs.

“Then who will you play with?” Tia can see the way Auston’s face is softening and knows she will have to be the one to shut this down.

“I’ll play with them, we’ll be best friends, all three of us!”

“I think we only need one dog for now.” Auston says dimly, but Tia knows if she wasn’t here to supervise, Auston would be bringing two dog’s home.

“No!” Taylour carefully climbs over the puppies and their toys to get to Auston and wraps his arms tightly around his neck. “We need two puppies, Daddy!”

Auston makes the mistake of looking at Taylour and sees the large pout and beady eyes, a cuteness barely rivalled by the puppy in his lap. Taylour falls to his knees and gets directly into Auston’s sightline. He puts his hands together as if he is praying, and desperately pleads with a croak in his voice. “Please can we get two, Daddy? Pleeeeease?”

Auston hates how his son knows exactly what to say and how to say it to make him forget all reason.

“Tay,” Auston sighs and prepares himself for the heartbreak, but he knows Taylour will get over it faster than Tia’s frustration if he gives in. “Just one.”

There is a groan that develops deep in his stomach as his shoulders drop. “No fair.”

“Look at how cute this little guy is though.”

Auston holds the wiggly puppy a little higher and hands it to Taylour. An excited yip comes from the puppy and a smile begins to creep its way back to Taylour’s face. “He is cute, Daddy.”

Auston reaches over and grabs a small stuffed pig and gives it to the puppy who wraps his mouth around it and starts whipping its head from side to side. “I want this one.” Taylour informs them without an ounce of hesitation.

Auston and Tia left Taylour with the puppies and found Sandra in the kitchen. They went over the paperwork and fine details. She gave them a bag with some food, a small blanket, along with a binder full of health information and veterinary records.

By the time they wandered back to the living room a few minutes later, Taylour had forgotten about his desire to bring home two. He was on his knees, heels digging into the back of his thighs, squeaking the pig in an attempt to engage the puppy.

“You two ready?” Tia walks to the edge of the puppy fencing, Auston’s hand on her back.

“Mhm.” Taylour enthusiastically nods. He stands up and Auston bends down to help him over then scoops up their puppy. “Thank you for my puppy!” Taylour addresses Sandra while making a beeline for the door.

Once Taylour was in the car, which was a task, he demanded the dog sit with him. Tia was a little uneasy about leaving them alone in the back, she had a feeling she should sit with them, just in case the puppy fell or wandered away and somehow found his way under a seat, but Auston assured her everything would be fine. He could tell she was anxious, so he reached over the console and laced his fingers with hers, then brought it to her lips and placed kisses on the back of her hand, knowing that would bring her to ease.

“What should we name him?” Auston asks as they sit at a red light, the steady sound of the blinker being drowned by the noise coming from the backseat.

“Rex.” Taylour proudly proclaims.

“Rex?” Auston probes with a laugh. The suggestion undoubtedly comes from the recent viewing of Toy Story. “I don’t know if that suits him.”

“Pickles!” He cheers from the back seat.”

“Pickles?” Tia shakes her head; she knew letting the almost-four-year-old name the dog would be a terrible idea. “What about Bernie?” She suggests in reference to its breed.

“No.” They simultaneously protest.

“How about Felix?” Auston pipes up. He doesn’t know why but the second he held him, that name felt right and it’s hard for him to imagine the dog as anything else.

“Yes!” Taylour promptly agrees. “I like that!”

Auston kept his hand linked with hers over the console as he drove the quiet Scottsdale streets. His eyes were mostly on the road, but he couldn’t help glancing in the rearview every chance he got, spending red lights turned around staring at Taylour and Felix.

The next few hours were somewhat of a blur. Taylour was eager to show Felix to Trevor and Fred. He had to FaceTime Mitch, Becks, Emily and Max,Sarah and Charlie, every person he knew. He never wanted to leave Felix, even tried getting him to come to the bathroom with him. He would lay on the floor beside him while he napped, pull him into his arms for pets, dangle a toy over his head, or run around in the yard, trying to get him to follow. Felix was a little overwhelmed at times, often quiet and reserved, unsure about the toys and people around him, but that didn’t stop Taylour. He was determined to be that pup’s best friend no matter what.

Auston found Tia in the kitchen checking her e-mail. Some Disney movie Taylour long ago lost interest in plays in the background, he uses the noise to sneak up in front of her. He presses himself into her and chuckles when she jumps.

Droplets of water fall from his hair and splatter on her shoulder, the towel that hangs loosely over his hips rubs against her thigh.

“He’s so happy.” Auston places a gentle kiss on her temple.

She peers out the glass doors to Taylour who is sitting on a lounger with Felix in his lap. She doesn’t know what he is saying, but he constantly laughs and places kisses to his head. Her heart is about to explode. She lets out a contentious sigh and rests her arms on his shoulders, aimlessly fiddling with the metal wrapped around his neck. “I’m so happy we did this.”

“Me too.” Auston tugs at her pony and tilts her head back, then places a kiss on her lips. “I love you, babe.”

“I love you, too.”

Tia is expecting another kiss on her lips, only Auston ducks down and starts sucking along her neck.

“Auston.” She tries to scold him, only to shriek when he grabs a handful of ass from under her damp bathing suit.

“I want to kiss my girlfriend without a little parrot announcing it.”

“I know.” Tia sighs, because he has been announcing it - six times so far. “But we should go to our boys.”

Our boys.

Auston loves the way that sounds and even though it’s only been a couple hours he can’t wait until their family grows even more.

“They’re fine, Fred and Trevor have it under control. “Besides, you have a boy here who needs you.” He rolls her hips over his slowly growing erection and carves his nails into her flesh.

“Auston.” She playfully swats at his chest, letting out a breathy laugh.

“I told you to add fucking me to your list of things to do today,” he growls.

His fingers trail over her skin, pricked with goosebumps, until they find the bows that are holding up the barely-there bikini bottoms. His fingers tangle in and he begins to tug, loosening the knot.

“It’s like 4 pm.” It’s a futile attempt. They both know it.

Having heard no reason to stop, Auston quickly hoists her onto the counter. The towel drops to the floor as he presses her knees apart. He gently teases his fingertips past the seam of her lips, sending a ripple of goosebumps up her spine.

She wants to give in.

She can’t help it.

She spent too much time without him, her heart (among other things) physically ached for him and his touch. She never wants to be without it again, never wants to crave his physical touch like she did.

Following the hitch in her breath, two fingers slide inside, and are greedily welcomed by her heat. She arches toward his electric touch and his mouth moves toward the sweet spot below her ear.

It barely takes two minutes before a slew of curse words roll off Tia’s tongue. The air between them gets sticky and Auston licks up her neck. She can see the bulge beneath his bathing suit, rapidly swelling as he continues to stroke her inner walls. Through the pleasureful haze Tia barely manages to get her fingers under the waist band.

“Such a good girl, aren’t you?” Auston purrs against her neck, teeth nipping at her warm skin. Pressure builds inside her – everywhere – as Auston pets her silky inner walls. “I’m gonna bend you over this counter.” Auston’s breath is hot and heavy against her skin, fanning over her in hypnotic waves. “Kitchen’s gonna be so dirty we’ll need a hazmat team.”

Tia shudders. Her cheeks colour pink.

She wraps a leg around his hip and pulls him close. His left hand immediately finds her thigh and runs up and down. Fingerprints are left on her hips; bright red scratch marks decorate his shoulders. He’s hungry and he won’t stop until he’s had his fill of her.

“That’s what you want, right?” All thoughts disappear from her mind when his thumb starts caressing her swollen clit. Every part of her is consumed by him, and she struggles to even breathe. “To use my cock to christen this place, huh?” Her breasts bounce following every thrust, threatening to spill out of the stringy bikini top any moment. Little butterflies dance in her belly. She is barely keeping it together and Auston can tell. “M’gonna fuck you so hard a black light will break in here.”

“Mngh.” Tia chokes out, as if her tongue is glued to the top of her mouth.

“Let my friends hear.” Auston encourages her. He spits in his hand then it disappears, slathering his cock in saliva. She shudders when his warm erection nudges against her throbbing clit. “Cum baby. Show them how good I make you feel.”

Auston kneads at her fraying nerve as his breath gets hotter and heavier against her skin. They are so absorbed by the coil tightening in her belly, her release building and building -

“AUSTON!” Ema howls, absolutely horrified.

Nothing would get Auston to stop. Nothing, except his mother would get him to stop.

Taglist: If you are in this list you have expressed interest in the series (either through likes/reblogs or by asking). If it’s crossed out your tag didn’t work. If you would like to be removed or added to the list send me an ask:

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hockeysnapsgalore · 1 month

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#hockeysnapsgalore #hockey #hockey snaps #hockey smut #matthew knies #matthew knies smut #toronto maple leafs #toronto maple leafs smut #snapchat #smut snaps

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angelwithdemonictendencies · 4 months

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he set my house on fire, you lit my heart ablaze; when the smoke cleared, you stayed, coughing up ash with me.

jh86 x reader: the revenge plot doesn't go as planned (ft. ex-fiance am34).

(warnings: blasphemous filth (it's on the tamer side, i think), unprotected penetrative sex (m on f), spit and descriptions of bodies and stuff like that, hair pulling (big fan), lots of talk about toxic relationships and being mean and using people and sad moments (we can thank this fictional am34 for that), oh, and slight bullying of tz11). idk just please be warned, don’t read if you’re not 100% sure.)

(a/n: hello, favorites. thank you so, so much for your patience and softness. today i bring you a story that took me so, so long because i worked so, so hard on it (and it's really long! 14k worth). we have checked all the boxes: terrible ex-fiance am34, sweet boy jh86, schemes and plots and the like. no, i don't think any of these characters are like this in real life. no, nobody acts like this, but it's getting colder, so i think a lot of us are craving that gentle domesticity. and yes, i wish someone had shown up with flowers after i finished undergrad midterms. there's probably a ton of plot holes but shh! don't tell anyone. also tried out a new format, the smut is in the middle instead of the end, let me know how you feel about that. anyways, i miss you and i love you and i think of you often and fondly. i hope you and your snakes are doing well and knowing what you deserve and accepting nothing less. let me know what you think, what you want next, etc. go canucks, of course. oh, and no, i do not think it's a coincidence that all the guys i write about are having a great season so far (except the ducks that refuse to play). how could it be? definitely a causal connection. all my love to you. until next time).

since you were a young girl, you had known that your greatest motivation, your deepest truth, perhaps your fatal flaw, was just how deeply you felt.

when you were little, that meant tears came easily, anger festered like weeds in a prized garden, and happiness felt like flying.

it also meant you could read others' emotions almost as clearly as your own.

it made you different, it made you a good friend, it made you the person you were. for much of your life, you had made peace with the fact that your well of emotions went deeper than others. you had loved that part of yourself, even.

but the night you broke off your engagement to auston matthews, you wanted nothing more than for everything you were feeling to disappear, to evaporate into the air as if it had never been.

"you couldn't've at least tried to hide it from me?" you had said, willing your fragile voice not to break.

and he had sat at the kitchen counter, that massive body on the stool that you had carefully selected for the house that you shared, that you thought you would share forever. and he had sighed, sounded almost annoyed. "would that have made it better, angel?"

his indifference coated your bones like lead paint. that name, once one you felt would call you out of a coma, would lead you out of hell like a northern star, now felt like nothing but a condescending, patronizing taunt. silly, stupid angel, the god might as well have said, how could you think you could ever be enough?

understanding settled like ash on your eyelashes. "you think i'll forgive you," you said, little more than a whisper. "you think i won't leave."

he scoffed at that, then. at you. "and go where?" he asked, sounding almost genuine. "where do you have to go?"

how superficially he knew you, it seemed, at that moment. how had you not seen this before?

"you honestly think i could ever look at you the same?" you asked.

he shrugged, his shoulders so imposing, stature so suddenly frightening. a body you knew better than your own, suddenly foreign. a ghost. "maybe differently, but still looking," he said, "your eyes have only ever followed me, angel."

and maybe he was right, but you were done proving him so.

"send my things to my parents' place," you said, cold, devoid of anything. emotion welled up in you like a flood, but you froze it before it could crest through your mouth, come out like some mythical fire-breathing dragon. you slipped off your ring, placed it on the counter.

you didn't feel lighter without it, though. you felt so devastatingly heavy, like cinder blocks were tied to your ankles, like liquid stone filled your head.

"are you kidding?" he asked. to your silence, careful pause, he tilted his head, shook it once. "you're just gonna quit?"

your hands were shaking. you could feel rage rattle through your body, shake your bones. you clenched your fist so tightly you wondered if blood would drip from your palms, stain the light hardwood floor that you had spent so long deciding on. "how dare you," you said, begging your quivering lip to still.

his smirk was cruel. "not like it matters," he mused. "you've never been able to quit me."

you had seen him mean. on the ice, sometimes to journalists, sometimes to fans, sometimes to you, even. but this was past mean. this was past elementary bullying, past joking insults that don't land. he was trying to call your bluff, trying to push you into forgiveness, trying to hurt you.

"watch me," you said, your voice made of ancient rock.

"are you mad because she's hotter than you?" he asked, his brow contorted in false concern. "is that it?"

despite yourself, a small smile pulled at your mouth. a smile that made your eyes glitter. a smile that should have scared him. a warning.

"she is beautiful," you conceded, because she was. what good would it do you to deny that? you approached him, then, in his personal space for what you believed would be the last time. he turned to you, your eyes meeting in a clash, like sword on sword. cruel, brutal arrogance and pure, pretty wrath. you held the side of his face in one palm, the other hand resting on his shoulder. "but when a beautiful person hits on me, auston, i say no."

his eyes flickered down to your mouth, simmering with lust. you laughed at this, at him, raw and true, let pity soak your tone like acid. "i'm not mad at her, auston," you admitted truthfully. "i'm not even mad at you." you patted his cheek, perhaps a little harder than you needed to. "i'm just so disappointed."

that had been weeks ago. you had moved back to the states, so embarrassed on the plane at how you couldn't stop the tears from flowing, until finally you were back with your parents in new jersey. they had welcomed you so warmly, so easily. it had taken a few weeks for the tears to finally slow, for the utter devastation to fade, for your red eyes to brighten again.

at first, it had been hard to remember anything but how his embrace felt like home, how tightly he hugged you after games, how his eyes shone when he laughed, how he had teared up when you had accepted his proposal, how he had gushed about picking the right ring.

but as the sadness faded, as it festered into something much more serious, you remembered less of the fairytale moments, less of his perfect smile, less of the "pretty girl" utterances in his rough bedroom rasp. soon the sadness gave way to steely rage, to an almost bloodthirsty need for revenge. for him to hurt the way he had hurt you.

and no one does bloodthirsty like a group of university-age girls. after catching up with your childhood friends, and getting them caught up on your situation, you looked at your confidants with eager eyes. "what do i do?"

your best friend from high school spoke first, banging her fist on the table. "burn his house down?" she offered. "steal his dog?"

her friend from college put a gentle hand over her fist, "i think for now we try to avoid the federal crimes," she said, then turned to you. "when my ex cheated on me, i got with the lead singer of his favorite band." her eyes shimmered. "and then bought his dream car and wrapped it pink."

you giggled in delight. "oh, you're good."

your childhood friend nodded. "phycological warfare." she looked at you. "who's his idol?"

you thought for a moment, tapped your fingers on the table. "i don't know if idol is what i should be going for," you thought out loud.

"who's someone who would make him uncomfortable? insecure?"

"his dad!" your friend said, making you shake in a laugh.

"his biggest insecurity is the spotlight leaving and not coming back," you told them. you had known that for a long time.

"being forgotten?" your friend asked.

"being replaced," you said, your eyes widening with understanding. "with someone better. more promising." you shared a look with your friends, felt anger solidify into a plan. into hope.

"you look like you have someone in mind."

a memory flashed across your mind like a shooting star, engulfed in flame.

"how was the game, aus?" you had asked when he got home, stirring the pot of soup on the stove.

you heard some kind of grumble as he dropped his things in the mudroom, made his way into the kitchen.

"what's wrong?" you asked when you met his eyes, sensing something wrong like smoke in the air.

"just this young kid," he muttered. "'s nothing, really."

and you knew then that it wasn't just nothing, because he never tried to hide things from you, to diminish his feelings, unless it was really bothering him.

you turned the stove off, approached him, wrapped your arms around his middle and hugged him tight. "who's this new kid?" you asked, muffled by his chest.

his arms pulled your closer, tighter. this had always been where you felt warmest, safest. "some h name," he muttered. "hicks? hughes, maybe?"

you smiled into his chest, knowing him, and knowing he would never have forgotten the name of this kid. knowing auston matthews never forgets people who make him feel like anything other than the world's brightest star.

"whoever he is, probably just had the game of his life," you had said, your voice a comforting lullaby. you had pressed yourself up on your tiptoes and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "nothing to worry about, yeah?"

he had smiled back at you, but something dark had swirled behind his gaze. something like knowing, like ominous understanding, like an empire, falling. "already forgotten, angel," he had said, but you knew, even then, that he was lying.

the memory fizzed and dissolved like baking soda in vinegar.

you looked at your friends and smiled. "what do you guys know about jack hughes?"

from there it was surprisingly easy to shift from a tangent line outside jack hughes's circle to someone inside of it. you were patient, too, careful not to rush. you wouldn't settle for anything less than perfect, after all, refused to enact any plan that wouldn't end in exactly the revenge you sought.

one of the other wags from toronto, whom you had grown close to, insisted on helping, giving you the numbers of some friends close to the devils.

"i'm honestly so, so proud of you for leaving," she had told you over the phone, her voice nothing but genuine, knowing. "all of us, we all knew you were way too good for him."

"did you?" you asked, maybe a little shocked. having been so completely deceived, so absolutely blind, for so long, it was interesting that others had not been as deluded as you. to hear their perspective, to see what you had not been able to before.

"sweetheart," she said, gently, "everyone who meets you can see that you're good. that you deserve someone good." there was a pause. "and everyone also sees that he was never that."

you let her words settle like glitter on a childhood craft. "thank you," you said. "i miss you."

"we miss you so much. see you soon?"

you agreed, thanked her for her help.

"i hope he's good," were her closing words. "maybe better, at least."

having started classes with your old friends, intent on finishing the degree you had so quickly and thoughtless abandoned for auston, you had ample time to plot.

"feels like we're in a spy movie, or something," your friend had said excitedly.

"we'll be your guys in the chair," the other chimed in. "here the whole way."

the rest of the initial plan came easily, with the help of the people who were on your side, which you quickly learned was a group made up of more people than you thought.

very soon, it was time for step one, and you were in front of your mirror, having just finished getting ready, your friends by your side.

you took a deep breath. "what if this isn't a good idea?" you whispered.

they squeezed at your hands. "no going back now, okay? we'll be there the whole time."

"what if he's not interested?"

"look at yourself," one of them said, "don't be stupid."

"what is he thinks i'm a crazy stalker?"

your oldest friend shrugged, her eyes full of mischief. "what if you are?"

so you found yourself at a dingy, run down bar, the lights low. according to your contacts, this was where the team and their friends came after home games.

when was the last time you had come to a bar looking for something? for someone? it felt distantly familiar, but so strange, like hearing a language you spoke as a child but that hadn't graced your tongue in decades.

you had been with auston for years, after all, having met him when you were 19, him 23. a whirlwind, a tornado, a perfect tempest of pink dust and white teeth. a proposal two years later, a break off a year further.

you were 22 now, and had never felt further from your nineteen-year-old self. a foolish child, a delicate doll, a phantom cloaked in a desperate desire for acceptance, for love.

you didn't know how to flirt in this new body, new being. you didn't even really know to how flirt with anyone but auston - it had been so long since you wanted anyone else. and you didn't even really want jack, at this point. you just wanted justice.

a cluster of motion and noise behind you ripped you from your thoughts. you didn't turn, though, just stirred your drink, let the liquid settle again until you could see yourself in the reflection. until you could make out your eyes, until you could plead with your mouth to tell you what to say.

a game, the beautiful girl mouthed to you, a secret code, it's only a game.

your hazy eyes caught on a pool table in the corner of the bar, vacant, the lamp above it flickering. you smiled to yourself, made your way over, picked out a cue, ran your fingers along the edge of it.

you took a sip of your drink before setting it down, lining yourself up to break. with a swift, even motion, a pleasant cracking noise rung out, colorful balls moving in different directions.

you scrunched up your nose, having sunk none initially, gracefully lining up to go again when you felt a few figures approach.

the first one who spoke, the one right next to you, was not someone you recognized. you didn't even think he was on the team, but he had the build of a hockey player, probably a quick center.

"need a private lesson, there, sugar?" he asked sleazily, his voice the arrogant drawl of a child, almost endearing in its steadiness. he leaned on the table as you looked up at him, straightened, tilted your head to rest against the cue.

"awful kind of you, coach of the year," you teased before nodding to the other person who had joined you, looming across the table like a shadow. "gonna help me beat your friend?"

your new coach scoffed, ran a hand through his long, unruly hair. "trust me, sugar," he said, "you don't need any help beating him."

you locked eyes with the figure across the table, whom you had only seen before on a screen, the one you had heard about in the arms of your ex-fiance. here he was, the soft contours of his face shimmering in the dim light. the mythical and heroic jack hughes, the shaker of the unshakeable auston matthews.

he was shorter than you expected. "not much of a competitor, is he?" you asked the man next to you, talking about jack as if he wasn't right there. as if you hadn't been looking at him the entire time. "doesn't like to play?"

you tilted your head, dared him with your eyes to prove you wrong. the familiar fire of flirtation, of the chase you hadn't engaged with in years flared when he took a step out of the shadows, letting you see him clearly and up close.

during your research, you had seen pictures of him, but they didn't do him even a semblance of justice. he was gorgeous in a fairytale prince sort of way, like he might save the day with a true love's kiss at any moment. his eyes were a striking blue, his nose almost dainty, his jaw angular. your gaze caught on his full mouth before finally landing on his eyes again. he had the kind of complexion and expression you could tell lit up when he smiled. your stomach twisted at the thought. a game, you repeated in your mind. only a game.

"i'll play," he said simply, his voice goofy in a way you weren't used to. not sleazy, like his friend, who was currently behind you while you bent forward, lining up the cue. it wasn't the classic baritone you were used to hearing in auston, but something more cautious, something sweeter.

the game progressed, each of you sinking shots with the tell-tale soft thud. it was his long-haired friend, the one who kept calling you sugar like you were some southern belle, who was much closer to you, who was adjusting your hips and arm placement before each turn, who was flirting with you so openly, his breath hot on your neck, his gaze open and obvious.

even then, a quick exchange of glances with jack felt much more intimate than any innuendo-filled comment and fumbling touch from his friend. whenever jack would sink a ball, his eyes would flutter up to meet yours in a fleeting catch of flame, of promise, of knowing.

with only a few balls still on the green felt of the table, his careful voice broke you from your trance. "what are we playing for?" he asked, eyes alight.

the look you shared was teasing, probing, yet deadly serious. this is everything, the look said. are you ready to give everything?

"how about this?" you began, your tone light and smoky. "if you win, you get my number." his full mouth quirked upwards in the slightest of smirks. "and if i win, i give it to him," you finished, nodding towards his sugar-spewing friend.

jack looked at his friend. "good with you, z?" he asked.

his friend, z, you guessed, let a cocky smirk drape across his face like velvet curtains. "more than good," he said, "as we're gonna win."

with the stakes agreed upon, the game continued until only the eight ball remained. you lined yourself up, your ever-so-involved coach just next to you as you called your pocket.

"have a game, sugar, here we go."

you ignored his friend's voice, lining your cue up perfectly, the smooth wood resting delicately between your fingers, the angle of your arm and neck smooth and sensual. everything about your preparation lent itself to a winning strike, everyone at the table knew it. you could feel it in z's early celebration, see it in the slight quiver of jack's hand.

bent over the table, in the final seconds before your strike, you peered up at jack through dark lashes, all dim light and foggy promise. you gave him a sly smirk as you followed through, the black and white ball missing the pocket by an inch, hitting the side of the table with a soft sound.

jack narrowed his eyes at you with a curious sort of look before quickly calling his pocket and immediately sinking the ball.

his friend sucked on his teeth before throwing up his hands in defeat. "christ, sugar, didn't take you for a choke artist," he said. "unless you're into that." he shot you a wink before heading off to grab a drink.

for the first time, it was just you and jack. you leaned on your cue, let your gaze fall over him lazily, in the same way you knew he was doing to you. he was close now, close enough that you could see how blue his eyes were, how long his lashes, how high and soft his features, how his hair was just a little too long on the sides.

"you let me win," he said, a gentle observation, not anything accusatory.

you smiled. "prove it," you said, to which a matching smile graced his own face.

"must be my lucky night, then," he said as he handed you his phone and you typed your number in.

you laughed. "i don't know," you mused, "you seem like a guy who's used to getting what he wants." and he did seem like that - who could say no to those pretty eyes?

he ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek, a motion you tracked. "'m a guy used to earning what he wants," he corrected, and you hummed. a distinction that auston had never made, even though he worked hard, sure. but he was a natural. what would it be like to be with someone to whom everything didn't come just so, so, easily?

"like to work for it, hm?" you teased.

his gaze dropped to your mouth for a second before returning to your eyes.

you stepped forward, pushed and poked at the imaginary line between the two of you. you looked up at him, gently swiped at his cheekbone with your thumb, felt heat rumble between the two of you, something volcanic. "don't work yourself too hard, yeah?"

without a second glance, you placed your cue against the table, grabbed your bag and made for the door.

on your way out, you overhead the conversation that had erupted in your exit.

"i was the one talking to her the whole time," that long-island-ish drawl said.

"if you think she was into you for even a second, you're an idiot," jack replied.

you swore the door was chuckling as it shut behind you.

everything had gone exactly as you'd hoped, exactly as you'd known it would, so you weren't at all surprised to receive a text the next day asking if you were around that night to get a drink.

so you found yourself at a different bar, this one a bit more upscale, quickly spotting jack as he waited for you outside. you blew out a breath as you approached, as a smile made his face glow. it was still so new to find someone else beautiful. when would you get used to his imperfect teeth, his oceanic eyes, his feminine nose, this greek sculpture opposed to autson's roman one?

you blinked. "hi," you said, suddenly feeling lame.

his mouth quirked. "hey." he opened the door for you, nodded. "after you."

"i'm gonna warn you," you started as you ducked past him and into the building. "i haven't been on a date in a while."

he shoved his hands in his pockets, a juvenile habit that made you blush. "find that hard to believe," he said, his tone playful. "pretty girl like yourself."

you scrunched up your nose at that. pretty girl. auston had called you that so many times, but for the first time you actually thought about its meaning. something flipped in your stomach at jack calling you pretty, but it was the girl part that had you pausing for a moment.

you were a girl, pretty much, you were jack's age, but you hadn't felt like one in so long. maybe it was being with someone a little older, but you felt almost ancient, so tired, so drained. but here you were, on a date, every bit the pretty girl he had deemed you.

you just laughed, taking a seat at the counter, smoothing out your dress against your legs. "real sweet talker, are you?" you joked, turning to him and meeting his eyes.

his mouth quirked like he knew something you didn't. "somethin' like that," he said.

the night went by fast, conversation flowing easily, no sign of pressure or anything of the like. you asked about his career, what he did that day, his family, his friends. he made you laugh, and it came so easily, so fluidly. he asked you about what you liked to do, what you were studying in school, how you were enjoying jersey.

surprisingly, you found yourself wanting to be completely honest with him, even though you couldn't be. you found yourself wanting to tell him everything, to answer any question he asked, to never leave him wishing or wanting even for a second.

you got hung up on the curve of his upper lip, on the slope of his shoulders under his button down, on his girlish laugh, his firefly of a smile.

the night was over too soon. too soon, you had the sinking feeling that you were in over your head, that perhaps you had chosen the wrong person for your revenge plot. you wanted to hurt auston, after all, but not yourself. certainly not this shimmery spark of a boy in front of you.

he walked you out, both of you pausing outside the bar, under the dull streetlight, a theatre spotlight for your praiseworthy performance.

you turned to look at him, and him at you, sinking into each others' gazes like quicksand, the air thick with expectation.

"i don't kiss on the first date," you blurted out, talking to his lips, talking to yourself.

he smiled, his shoulders rumbling in a laugh. "'s okay," he breathed, "like to work for it, remember, baby?"

you shook your head as your cheeks erupted in a delighted rosy flush. "goodnight, jack," you said, your voice every bit the giveaway. he returned the sentiment with a knowing grin.

the next day, you invited your girls over to watch him play. as you all settled on the couch, a homemade cocktail in your hand, you couldn't help but hide your face when the camera lingered on his profile during the anthem.

one of your friends gave a mock-salute. "god bless america," she said, shaking her head as you threw a pillow at her.

"alright," you chastised.

"what?" she asked, raising a brow, "just appreciating the wonderful offerings of our country."

your other friend shook her head. "you don't usually go for guys like him, eh?" she asked. "i mean, ever since we were in middle school you always went for the guys with biceps bigger than my face." she held her hands in front of her face for visualization.

"'s not like he's tiny," you said, almost embarrassed.

"no, no," she amended, "but he's no auston. he's just, i don't know, pretty."

you smiled, knowing exactly what she meant. auston was so masculine in every way, and jack was softer, somehow, pretty in a way you didn't usually go for.

pretty in a way that made you smile at your phone when he texted you the next day, asking if he could cook you dinner later that week.

you were blushing to yourself, the morning of, after he had texted you asking if you had any dietary restrictions.

and you didn't, but wasn't it just the sweetest, most thoughtful thing to ask? would you have even thought to ask?

i want you to be comfortable, his text said, i want you to laugh with your mouth full in my kitchen.

careful, angel, a deep voice called from the back of your mind, from the inside of your teeth. this is about me, remember?

your fingers twitched with the reminder as you stood on his front stoop, waiting for jack to answer the bell. the air had a brisk twinge of a chill to it, a chill that had your nose turning pink and your feet stiffening in your boots.

but he answered the door, and the breath you blew out rose between the two of you like a misty curtain, one you resented, because it distorted your view of him, even just so.

the mist settled, and his smile was left in its wake.

a smile that silenced all the gossiping voices in your head, left the throne of their malevolent king vacant, abandoned.

"you're here," he breathed, almost like he couldn't believe it, like he couldn't believe you.

"and it's your fault," you teased, scrunching up your nose.

he shook his head, laughed at some joke in his mind, stepped aside. "you must be freezing, baby, come in."

the butterflies in your chest soared as he helped you shoulder off your coat, his fingers leaving just a ghost of a touch on your wrist, the back of your neck, leaving scorched skin behind. you shivered, took in his graceful figure hanging your coat up on a hook by the door, let a smile come easily to your face when he turned back to you.

"what?" he said, grinning.

you let out a half-laugh. "nothing," you said, looking around as you kicked your shoes off. anything to avoid the white-hot light of his undivided attention. "i like your place."

and you did like it, truly, it was just so unexpected. homely, not cluttered, but definitely not the modern, futuristic, almost barren aesthetic you can come to associate with successful hockey players.

he flashed you a shy smile as he led you into the kitchen, bowing his head, making his hair fall into his face, almost bashful. "it likes you too," he told you, swinging his hand up to hit the top of the doorframe like a basketball-obsessed middle-schooler. you bit your lip to stop your grin.

what a pleasure it was to get to know all the most intricate and intimate manners of someone new.

"everything's almost done, now," he said, quickly turning off the stovetop and peering through the glass of the oven.

his tone was much more at ease then when you had talked to him before. he was at home here, and you could tell. he wore home like a hand-me-down sweater, too big in the shoulders and worn in the elbows, but lovely and familiar in all of its comfort.

you sat atop a stool at his counter, nervously rubbing the sole of one foot into the top of the other. "thanks for cooking, jack," you said, "you really didn't have to do anything fancy, or anything." suddenly, sitting here in this space, surrounded by the evidence of his effort, you felt guilt settle deeply into your body. unworthiness, perhaps, of the smell of food in the air, of the drink he had poured for you so gently, of the smile he kept throwing your way.

that voice in your head huffed. look at all this, he said, look at the burden you are.

and you were feeling it, so heavily, until jack took a sip of his own drink and waved you off, furrowing his brow as if confused. "'s how a date works, right, baby?" he said. he tilted his head, teasing, "tellin' me no one's ever pulled out all the stops for you?"

and you laughed, shook your head, because you supposed it was, supposed no one really had.

you got to know each other even better over the meal he had cooked, surprising you once again with how easy everything felt between you.

"tell me what you did today," he might say, his voice soft, muffled from chewing.

and you might tell him about your classes, how midterms were coming up, how you were nervous but felt pretty good about most of them.

maybe then you would ask about practice that morning, to which he would tell you some story about his teammates, how they were giving it to him all morning.

"why?" you might ask, to which he would look up at you with that bashful flush.

"'cause they knew you were coming over tonight," he admitted, pushing broccoli around his plate. "kept saying how i was probably gonna make you a box of kraft or something."

you laughed, a genuine rumble from deep in your chest, tilting your head back. when you looked back at him, he was looking at you with something like wonder.

and maybe later, you would ask what his favorite part of his house was, and he would say it was his wall of framed pictures, which would make you melt a little bit, your heart a puddle of feeling.

too soon, you were setting down your fork and knife, crossing and uncrossing your legs in restlessness.

"did you like it?" he would ask, his voice so full of hope it could have killed you.

so full of hope that you reached across the counter to hold his hand in yours, if only for a moment, to squeeze his fingers in meaningful emphasis.

your touch caught him by surprise, hesitant for a moment before locking eyes with you, simmering, then squeezing your hand back in his warm, callused grip.

a grip that said i'm no natural, but i'll work for it. for you.

"it was perfect," you said honestly, because it was. "but please, please let me do the dishes," you pleaded, looking at him through your lashes, just wanting to do something to help.

it would feel so wrong to be doted on for the whole night while giving nothing in return. at the very least, it would feel foreign.

he shook his head playfully, but relented. "you can help," he conceded, "but 'm not letting a pretty girl clean up my mess by herself."

you scoffed with a smile, squeezed his hand a final time before pushing yourself off of your stool, gathering all the plates and glasses in a single go.

"where'd you learn how to do that?" he asked, genuinely, as he followed you to the sink.

you carefully set everything down in a graceful swoop, let your lips quirk upwards in nostalgia. "once a waitress, always a waitress," you explained, referring to your short-lived stint at a busy restaurant in toronto before auston insisted on you staying home.

and at the time, even a little now, it was a sweet gesture, one you had taken as him wanting you to relax, wanting you to have the freedom to do whatever you wanted with your days.

you just secretly wished he had considered that what you wanted to do with your days was working, going to school, doing something for yourself.

jack leaned on the edge of the counter, his lopsided grin like an electric jolt to your heart. "what, did they show you the door 'cause you were making all the tips?" he teased, nevertheless making you blush as you washed the plates with soap. "not fair for everyone else, 's that it?"

you gasped in dramatic accusation, flicking sudsy water from your fingers his direction. "how dare you?" you exclaimed before turning away from him in a huff, feigning sadness. "'s not like i can control this face."

his mouth widened in shock, then took on a scheme-filled smile as soon as the water hit him, a short laugh escaping him. "you didn't," he said, dipping his hand in the soap and flinging some at you.

you squealed, holding your hands up to shield your face as he reached in for more, bubbles filling both of his palms. "wait, jack, i'm sorry!" you laughed. "i swear, i didn't mean to!"

"liar," he cooed, his gaze sparking like a lighter, you swore you could hear the clicking sound. then he was right in front of you, only a breath apart, so close you swore you could feel the beat on his heart in your own chest.

he reached down and gently held your face in his hands, the soap now all along your jaw and cheeks.

you closed your eyes for a second, sighed in defeat, still so aware of him so close, of his touch, feather-light on you skin.

when they opened again, you both had not moved, frozen in place, perhaps willed by the moment, compelled by the growing sensation of rightness, of being exactly where you were supposed to be. when he spoke, he was speaking to your lips, dragging his gaze back up to your eyes like it weighed something stark.

"do you kiss on the second date?" he breathed, and your breath caught, your heart stuttering at his utter politeness, his thoughtfulness, the idea that he remembered things you had told him.

you bit your tongue, because, if you were being honest, you usually didn't - you took the rule of threes very personally. you liked to take your time, savored that lovely period of what could be. besides, you had learned the hard way what happened when you let people in your life too quickly, too hastily. you knew all too well that giving in to a toothy smile and a sleeve of tattoos only led to shrugs met with tears.

but here, now, with jack's soapy hands on your face, in the space he had so warmly accepted you into, you had the feeling this boy in front of you was going to be an exception. that he would be an exception for many things, perhaps the exception.

as if hearing your internal dialogue loud and clear, he dipped his head down until he was impossibly close, so when he spoke you could feel the words on your lips.

"please let me kiss you, baby," he pleaded, his eyes hooded and heavy, his voice a rasp.

deciding he was an exception indeed, you answered him by pressing up on your toes, meeting his mouth with yours in a kiss that bruised.

and later, you would think about how auston had never been a please let me kiss you man, instead he had been a give me a kiss, angel kind of guy.

after, you would think about how it felt so much more personal, so much more sweet to be asked please, can i instead of being ordered give me, give me, give me, like a demanding, red-faced child.

later, you would think about how the previous kisses in your life paled in comparison to the feeling of jack's lips on yours. how before this moment, you were used to kisses that felt like transactions, like the necessary box being checked before the next step, how they felt like being swallowed.

after, you would swoon over all the details and nuances, but, right now, there was nothing but his lips, his hands, the way he melted into you and practically whimpered when you kissed him harder.

kissing him didn't feel like being swallowed, it felt like taking the biggest deep breath of your life after slowly suffocating for years. you forgot you had soap bubbles all over your face, you forgot about auston, you forgot about everything - there was only him, and you, in this moment.

he held your face like you were something precious, moving one hand into your hair as you wrapped your arms around his neck. he tasted like lemon and rosemary, as well as something so deliciously him you could feel yourself become addicted immediately.

his grip in your hair was soft, and when his lips moved against yours it felt like melting snow in the warmth of the morning, pure and sweet and natural and right. kissing him felt like waking up with sunlight streaming through the windows, like laughing while taking your makeup off, like cinnamon and clove and home.

when you pulled away from him, only just slightly, both of you catching your breath heavily, he opened his eyes slowly, almost reluctantly. his eyes were almost glazed over, and you had a feeling yours looked in a similar way, syrupy and hot.

he gently swiped his thumb along your swollen bottom lip as if testing to make sure you were real, not just some shadow, not just a dream.

you traced your nails along his neck, smiled as he brought his hands down to wrap around your middle, resting them on the small of your back.

"god, you're just so fucking pretty, aren't you?" he breathed, like a revelation.

you swore he had your head spinning for days after, days you unfortunately and cruelly had to spend apart due to a week-long road trip for the team.

you told yourself it was a good thing that he was going away for a bit, as it would give you a second to regroup, to revaluate, to familiarize yourself with what your initial goal was for your plan. you reminded yourself over the week apart that jack was a means to an end, that whatever had blossomed between the two you had a finish line, that all of it was meant to make a point, then hopefully leave this whole hockey world behind after the damage had been done.

but then one of your girls would throw on the game, and jack's expressive face would fill the screen, chewing on the fingers of his gloves during warm ups, and your heart would sink at the thought of leaving him behind. and it just about combusted at the idea that you were using him, even though that's exactly what you were doing.

you've only been on two dates with him, only kissed once, you reminded yourself. he's probably seeing other people, anyways, probably with some other girl right now. it's not like you're exclusive. this is probably not a big deal to him.

the thought was comforting but also devastating, a brick in your stomach.

while he was away, midterms came and went. as you walked into your last one, you thought about maybe texting jack after, trying to get together tonight, since he would finally be back.

then your pen hit the paper and time passed in a blur.

you exited the lecture hall in a flurry of relief and pride, happy to have accomplished something so concrete, something that you had truly worked hard on.

walking down the stairs outside of the entrance, your smile stilled, frozen in shock, when you looked up from your feet and saw a familiar, beautiful figure leaning against his car, an excited grin on his face, flowers in his grip as he locked eyes with you, making your breath catch.

"is that jack hughes?" some kid from your class said altogether too loudly to his friend. you had seen that same kid wearing devils gear more than once.

his friend didn't look up from his phone. "who's jack hughes?" he replied.

you couldn't stop your disbelieving laugh, your smile, already making your cheeks sore as you finished descending the stairs, until you were in front of him, wrapping your arms around him, pulling him in for a hug before you even realized what you were doing.

this was so unlike you, really, letting yourself feel as deeply as you could without filtering it, but anything else would have felt so wrong it could have killed you. especially when he brought his arms around you without even a second's hesitation, held you tight and close, so you could feel the petals of the flowers on the back of your neck.

"you're here," you said, breathlessly, still shocked, into his firm chest.

"had to make it back for your last test," he said into your hair, both of you not wanting to let go.

"how did you know?" you murmured, pulling away from him, only slightly.

he loosened his embrace, pulled away to get a look at you, let his eyes run over you carefully, indulgently. he pushed your hair back from your face, his touch gentle, like you were a relic, something worth treasuring. "you said so, last week," he said simply, like it was obvious.

he said it as if, for years of your life, you had wished and yearned so reverently for auston to remember the little things, like your coffee order, like the dates on which your parents were coming to visit, like your anniversary.

he said it as if it didn't mean the entire world that he had listened, that he had remembered.

you only leaned into his chest, looked up at him with something seriously dangerous in your eyes, something that was not supposed to be there. "'d you bring me flowers, jack?" you asked, a playful note in your tone.

he flushed, so lovely, hid his face behind the bouquet, peeking only one deep blue eye out, as if embarrassed. "too much?" he asked, still shielding his face.

you laughed, squeezed his bicep lightheartedly. "just enough," you assured him, your eyes full of meaning, willing him to lower his shield, let you see the face you had been dreaming of all week. "thank you. i missed you."

you would have told him that a thousand times just to see the way his whole face lit up, like he could never hide how happy your words made him. he wore the late afternoon sunshine like a dream, the dewy rays dripping down his cheekbones, the slope of his nose, slow and golden as honey.

he had this way of making you feel like you were first choice, every time, and it was so foreign that you hadn't known you had been craving it until he had laid it at your feet like an offering. every time he texted you to check in, to ask how your day was, to finalize plans, it would send a flurry of butterflies swarming your chest, a rosy flush to the bridge of your nose.

he was so, so beautiful, inside and out, that you effectively forgot what the whole point of your plan was in the first place. you basically had forgotten about it, that day that he dragged you along with some of his friends to pick out a christmas tree.

"do i know any of these friends?" you had asked on the way up, riding shotgun, reaching over periodically to run your nails along his neck, just below his hairline, your way of saying i'm happy you're here. and he would reach over and rest his hand on your thigh, not possessive, just a reminder of your presence. a reminder that made your insides twist with want, nonetheless, that made your gaze simmer.

one of the things you appreciated so genuinely about jack was that he didn't rush you for even a second, so happy to go at whatever pace made you most comfortable, whatever pace would keep you around the longest. it felt almost wrong that his acceptance of a slow pace made you want to speed things up, made you want to know what he felt like in your hands, what sounds he might make if you teased him, what his voice would sound like in your bed.

he let out a rumble of a laugh at your question, shaking you from your daze. "you'll definitely recognize one of them," he said. "though i don't know if he's fully recovered from your last meeting."

"oh no." you paled. "not him." you winced, thinking about how you had probably bruised his inflated ego. not beyond repair, though, you knew. for guys like that, never beyond repair.

jack traced circles on your thigh with his thumb in affirmation. "don't worry, baby," he said, "told 'm to be on best behavior."

when you arrived, you recognized that boisterous voice immediately.

"so good to see you again, sugar," he drawled, his tone especially toying.

you decided to cut any hard feelings immediately, going up to him and giving him a quick hug in greeting. "i think i owe you a thank you, coach of the year," you said, pulling away with a smile.

luckily, he seemed to forgive quickly, even to appreciate your efforts. "i prefer my thank yous in hot chocolate form," he said, and you promised to fulfill his request later. he gave you his name in exchange for yours.

you spent the afternoon leisurely ambling around the grounds, looking at potential trees, but really just enjoying the company of those around you.

most of the time, you spent laughing, tucked into jack's side, finding warmth in the firm feeling of his hip against your waist.

"what about this one?" trevor asked, holding up an especially short and stout one.

the two of you decided jack would need a taller one to better suit the ceiling proportions in his living room.

walking around, it felt like you were in your own dreamy winter wonderland, in a fog of laughter and warmth and a million other beautiful things.

"you leave again tomorrow?" you asked at one point, unable to hide the slight disappointment in your voice. you peered up at him, your eyes warm, your cheeks rosy from the cold.

he met your gaze and nodded, hugged you tighter into his side. "back in a few days," he said.

you couldn't help but pout just a little. jack's roadtrips felt longer and more lonely than auston's ever had.

jack ran his thumb along your bottom lip. "what's that for, baby?" he asked.

you shrugged. "just gonna miss you, 's all," you told him honestly.

something sweet bubbled up in his gaze, but the moment was effectively interrupted by trevor's voice coming from behind you, now shockingly close.

"oh?" he said, dramatic, "what's this? is that - mistletoe?" he emphasized all of his words with dramatic pauses. you briefly thought that maybe, if he hadn't been all in on hockey, he would have made an excellent theater kid.

you both turned to find trevor standing right behind you, holding an alarmingly large branch of something that resembled mistletoe.

"where did you find that?" jack asked his friend.

"never mind that," trevor said, waving him off.

you elbowed jack lightly. "looking for an excuse not to kiss me, are you?"

he shook his head incredulously, as if you had said something funny. you were about to tease him again, but he didn't give you the chance, immediately taking your face in his hands and angling his head down slightly to meet you in a kiss that seared every bit of chill from the air.

would you ever get used to this? would his lips ever not feel like they belonged on yours? would your heartbeat ever not thrum, like some perfect harmony?

the warmth of his hands on your face, the security of yours against the plane of his chest, all of it, everything - it was so perfect you wanted to stay here, just like this, forever. and the thought didn't even scare you as want began to pool inside of you, hot and heavy.

a mixture of a cough and a laugh had the two of you pulling away from each other. one of jack's other friends who had tagged along let out a low whistle, making you blush deeper.

jack just slung a heavy arm around your shoulders and pulled you close, pressing his lips to the top of your head.

luckily, trevor's attention had already strayed, as he was now holding the branch over his own head and the head of the other friend. "don't fight it!" he was calling out as the friend broke out into a light gait.

"get away from me, you scumbag," the poor kid called out over his shoulder.

your eyes were stuck on jack's face, still hazy from your kiss. he turned to you, his mouth quirking up. "staring, baby?" he said, low enough for only you to hear.

you nodded, shameless. "want you," you told him plainly, barely recognizing the tone of your own voice.

the fire in his own eyes welled up as you placed your hands flat on his chest. "fuck, now, baby?" he asked, looking around to where his friends chased each other around.

you bit your lip, pleaded him with your eyes. "please, jack," you said, "please take me home."

he took your hand in his immediately, tossed some parting words over his shoulder to his friends, who paused, watched the two of you stumble into jack's car with urgency.

as he started the engine and pulled away, you heard a faint the hell are we supposed to do with this tree?

the car ride back felt longer than it really was, both of you practically buzzing with want. you kept a hand in his hair, his palm planted firmly on the inside of your thigh, close but not close enough.

you let out a sigh of relief when he pulled into the driveway, let him pull you into the house, push you up against the closed door, kiss you again with heat and force and somehow, such softness.

it was the softness that filled you with want. his desire was obvious, especially when he pressed his hips up, hard against you, but that didn't mean he wasn't just so gentle with you, so in tune to what you wanted.

you fisted your hands in his hair, pulled until his posture faltered, until his lips parted further and he moaned into your mouth.

you hooked a leg around his hip to bring him closer, relished the way he began to rock against you.

"fuck, baby," he breathed out, strained, stuttering in places, "don't wanna fuck you against the door."

later, you would think about how auston had never had such a problem. he had never cared where you were, how uncomfortable a position had made you. sometimes you had thought he found his own bed boring.

but jack just pulled you into his room, lightly rocked you back onto the bed, pressed soft kisses down your jaw, your neck, your stomach. you both pushed and pulled clothes aside, looking to give the other as much access as possible.

"so fuckin' pretty," he mumbled against your stomach, making you flush all over.

"please, jack," you whined as he slowly dragged his fingers through your folds, making you shiver.

"what do you need, baby?" he asked, pumping himself a few times, up and down, his voice low and rough.

you sat up for a moment, took hold of his hand, peered up at him through your lashes as you spit into it.

he groaned, ran his hand over his cock, now glistening with your spit. desire glowed in your eyes like fireflies. "tell me," he begged.

you laid back on the bed again, the smell of him everywhere. another time, you would insist on feeling him in your mouth, maybe on feeling his mouth on you, but you knew the both of you were far too desperate for that.

"just need you inside me, baby, please," you said, your eyes raking over his figure above you, all gentle slopes and hard lines together.

"ask me so good, baby, so good for me," he said, a careful rasp. he thumbed your clit, making you jolt, dragging his fingers through you again before bringing them to his mouth. "and so ready, hm?"

you nodded feverishly, your mouth falling open as he finally pushed into you, his groan deep.

you whined, the stretch so surreal as you reached forward to grasp at his forearm, anything to ground you.

staying still in the stretch for a second, you waited for the feeling to weaken, but it didn't, not really.

he dropped his head, his exhale coming out shallow, the muscles in his shoulders constrained.

you tightened your grip on his forearm, let your nails dig into him to pull him back to you.

"fuck, baby, i can't," he bit out, "can't, i swear."

you rolled your hips back and forth, trying to will some movement from him. "please, jack, please move," you begged. "please fuck me, baby."

never one to deny you, he began a slow pace, the friction and depth almost unbearable. one of his hands dug into your hip, so hard you could feel bruising, the other beginning to rub careful circles on your clit, making you cry out in pleasure.

"you're so deep," you choked, "faster, baby, need you faster."

he obliged, picking up the pace of his rhythm, moving his hand faster against your clit, making that wave well up within you, forcing moans from your throat.

"fuck, sound so pretty, baby," he said, a glistening sheen now painted across his brow, his collarbones. "so pretty, squeezing me so perfect."

the muscles of his stomach began to contract as you felt yourself dangerously close.

his rhythm continued, bruising in depth and force, so lovely in softness. you tugged his hand from your hip, placed his fingers on your tongue, desperate for something to do with your mouth. you sucked, pulling a guttural moan from him. "don't stand a chance when you do that, baby, swear," he said, "fuck, don't stand a chance with you, hm?"

you felt yourself smile around his hand, your eyes watering, glazed over.

"gonna make me cum, baby," he whined, his motions becoming jerky, his voice little more than a plea. "cum with me, baby, hm? make me feel so good, yeah?"

you fell over the edge at his words, felt his orgasm follow yours almost immediately, the air warm and sticky around you. he collapsed on top of you, his exhales like liquid on your skin, yours like dreamy sighs as he pulled you to him, held you close as you waited for the rise and fall of your chests to settle.

he drew his fingers lazily around the flesh of your thigh, your hip, you pushed his hair back from his face as you both fought sleep, wanting just a few more seconds in the conscious presence of the other.

everything was so lovely you could barely stand it.

you should have known it wouldn't last long.

a day into jack's time away, you received a text from one of your friends in toronto. it was a picture from auston's instagram with the message just thought you should know. we miss you.

something cracked in your chest at the photo of your ex-fiance and this new girl. it wasn't really jealousy, definitely not desire, no, it was harder to pinpoint.

maybe it was the fact that after four years of being together, and after a whole year of being engaged, auston had never once even thought about posting a picture of the two of you.

and you had always chalked it up to the fact that you didn't have any social media, but now, you realized there was something to be said about letting the world know that you were taken.

and you also knew, now, that that was a statement auston had been unable to make your entire relationship.

a voice in the back of your mind, tone watery with tears, wailed. what makes her so special? it pressed. what makes her so much better than me?

it didn't help that she looked absolutely nothing like you. you wondered passingly if you would have preferred a look-a-like to be staring back at you through your screen. you didn't really know, but you did know that her features were sharp to your soft, your eyes are hair completely different in coloring. her face had you questioning if he had ever really found you beautiful, or if you had been the exception to his regular type. the idea weighed heavily on your shoulders like a cape made of cement.

but you knew, at the end of the day, that it was not about her.

and so you decided that as much as your relationship with jack had become genuine, maybe it was time to bring back the plan, just a little.

it can be two things, you told yourself, jack doesn't need to get hurt.

so when jack arrived back from the road, your relationship now teetered on a tightrope, balancing between two things, two motives like a trapeze artist.

still, you tried your best not to let your desire to rip out the heart of your ex-fiance stand in between you and jack. you could be bloodthirsty and gentle at the same time, you told yourself. two things.

the idea became easier when jack began to ask you to come to his games.

at first, you had been skeptical. auston hadn't wanted you there until maybe a year and half into your relationship. you didn't want to push this, press your luck, make yourself a burden, in fear of him abandoning you.

"are you sure you want me there?" you had asked the first time, a little timid, your face resting on your clasped hands, sitting at his kitchen counter, keeping him company as he made something on the stove.

he had turned to you, head tilted, confused. "of course i do, baby," he had said, calmly and clearly. "i want you everywhere i am."

and that had been the end of that.

so you began to become a regular attendee at his games, getting to know the people of his life more closely, becoming a fixture in his life more solidly.

you let him post a picture of the two of you, so touched that he would even ask. he showed you the post when he was done.

you kissed his shoulder in response. "your eyes are closed, jack," you said, half-laughing at the fact that he had chosen this picture, so flawed in nature.

"hm?" he looked at the picture again, then shrugged. "hadn't noticed. no one's gonna be looking at me, anyways."

you shook your head, disbelieving. he was making it hard for this to be two things. he was making it really, really hard to care if your ex-fiance even saw this post. he was making it really hard to care about your ex-fiance at all.

"i don't believe you, sometimes," you mused aloud.

he twirled a lock of your hair, mesmerized. "how?"

you tilted your head back to allow him easier access. "you're pretty perfect, you know that?" you smiled up at him, blissful. "too perfect."

seeing his face go pink with your praise made you make a mental vow to tell him more often.

and he gave you every opportunity to be surprised by his perfection, over and over.

every kiss was something teenage you would have dreamed about, every time he led you into his bedroom was something current you dreamed about. how he seemed to enjoy every moment no matter what you were doing, even how clearly he communicated with you during your first fight, all of it astounded you.

he made all of your friends jealous, but so happy for you. he met them, one time, when he dropped you off to get coffee with them after class.

he was so respectful with them, asked them genuine questions, but never anything that told you that he wasn't in on you one hundred percent.

when auston met your best friend in toronto, he had dropped your hand that he had been holding.

"didn't tell me she was so pretty, angel," he had said, and you had hoped it was just to show you he was putting in an effort to impress the people that were important to you.

when jack said he had to be going, to get to morning skate, he just kissed your cheek. "use my card, yeah, baby?" he called out, waiting for your nod and smile before he drove away.

how had you stumbled into this? was it possible that it wasn't too good to be true?

jack had asked you to come to toronto when the devils headed up north to play the leafs, because he knew you had lived there, because he had lived there, too, and wanted to show you around. and it had reached a point where refusing him when he offered a piece of himself to you seemed cruelly impossible.

you told yourself that it was just another game, just another day. it helped that you honestly didn't feel any attachment to this rink, even to this city. you had watched jack play plenty, now, and you were determined to treat this game just the same as any other, if not rooting for jack with just a little more urgency, a little more emotion.

you loved how easy he was to cheer for. you loved how you could see how much he loved the game, how he smiled after every good play, how he saw things you could have never seen on the ice. you could practically hear his laugh in the rafters, see his imperfect teeth in the glass. he was everywhere, here, are you loved it.

of course, you noticed that your ex-fiance was here, but it honestly wasn't even that bad. if anything, it was confirmation that you were over him, that what you had with jack was real, that you weren't in for revenge anymore. you weren't in this for auston at all.

until he scored, and his goal song echoed through the arena. you knew that this year, the leafs had decided to try out individual goal songs after players scored, songs that they chose before the season started.

you did not know, however, that auston matthews' goal song was the song that, months ago, was set to be the soundtrack to your first dance.

the crowd was eating it up, of course they were, the juxtaposition of auston's dynamic scoring ability with the old-fashioned crooning of you're just too good to be true, can't take my eyes off of you.

the song seemed to reverberate off of the walls, into your head, behind your eyes, where it settled like thick fog. it smelled like champagne, waxy makeup, hairspray. your eyes began to water, which made your throat constrict.

like a dream, maybe a hazy memory, your first dance that never was flashed across your mind. an ornate, almost gauche white dress, the beautiful heels you had been practicing to wear. his pressed suit, slicked back hair, stupid designer socks that used to make you laugh. his hand on your waist, your arms around his neck, the two of you lost in each other, swaying, swirling around the floor to this song, surrounded by loved ones, high on laughter and the future and love.

slowly, the image blinked out of your vision as the song faded and the puck dropped, play starting up again.

it blinked out like a dying star, and then it was exactly that. dead.

because as you trained your eyes back on the ice, never once did they stray from 86 in red. never once did anything like regret or nostalgic desire well up in your heart, because you were not the one who lost. you were not the one with something to prove.

finally, you buried that wedding dress, laid it six feet under, let the soil spoil it, knowing one day you would wear a white dress and it would mean something to both parties involved.

in a breath, the game ended, and jack won, and he was truly all you were thinking about.

waiting for him, though, practically bouncing up and down, you were suddenly pulled into a side hallway by a grip you would recognize anywhere.

you were not surprised to look up and see the calculating eyes of auston matthews looking down at you with some lethal combination of heat and arrogance.

"angel," he said, a greeting that made you grind your teeth.

you pulled your arm away from him, shook him off of you, willed strength and stone into your posture and tone. "cool goal song, asshole," you bit out.

"i missed you too," he cooed, not taking you seriously, even now. his frame seemed so imposing now, looming large, too large for someone you didn't trust.

you rolled your eyes. "if you'll excuse me, i'm waiting for someone." you turned to leave the hallway, go back to the exit where jack would surely be walking out of any minute.

auston grabbed at your wrist, and it burned. "what, you mean that kid?" he scoffed, but didn't let go. "c'mon, angel, you know he's nothing to you." he rubbed a circle into your wrist that once, might have been soothing, but now made you feel sick. "you know you're all for me."

and you could have said so many things. like how that kid was your age, actually, so what did that say about him? like how that kid was twice the man he would ever be. like how this would be the last time you ever saw him, the last time he would ever have your attention.

the opening of a door ripped you from your thoughts as both you and auston glanced up to see jack in the doorframe, his bag slung over his shoulder, his face flushed from the game, tired blue eyes caught on auston's hand around your wrist.

time froze for a millisecond as you felt like you were pulled between worlds. it can be two things, you had told yourself once. it was never two things.

you watched as painful realization settled in jack's eyes as he simply turned away, let the door close behind him.

you ripped your arm from auston's grasp. "you've never taken me seriously," you told him then, looking him square in the face, your tone steady and serious as anything. "but if you believe anything i say, let it be that you are nothing to me, and you never will be again."

for the second time, you were the one to leave, this time running towards something worth saving.

you cursed under your breath, looking around for that head of soft brown hair.

you found him in a different hallway, sitting on the ground, his bag slumped next to him, his back leaning against the wall, his feet flat on the ground.

for a single moment, it was so quiet you swore that your exhales echoed against the walls. he didn't turn to face you, but obviously knew you were there.

"so you're with him, then?" he practically whispered, his tone like a cleaver to your chest, so defeated and blindsided, almost like he was talking to himself.

you slowly made your way over to him, sat down next to him, mirrored his position. side by side, but he felt so far away. "i'm not," you said back to him.

he let out some kind of bitter laugh, a sound you hated, a sound you hoped you would never have to hear again. "so that was you making friends?" he picked at a thread on his dress pants. "just meeting new people, 's that it?"

you turned to face him, then, but he still faced forward, as if looking at you would ruin him. "it's not what you think," you said, softly.

"well, what is it?" he paused, looked at you, then, and he wore his sadness like a suit fit for mourning. "be honest with me, please."

you took a shaky breath, knowing that this, very possibly, might be the last time you would ever be so close to him. knowing that your next words, your explanation, it might drive him away from you forever, before you had even really had the chance to have him.

you savored this breath, this liminal space between the truth and the now.

"i was going to marry him," you said, and the confession felt like letting go of every single vengeful thought you had ever had, like all the spite and disdain in your body had evaporated into dust.

"you were going to marry auston matthews," jack murmured, his face blank, his tone confused.

"yes."

"but you're not anymore?" he asked, looking at you, leaning his cheek onto his knees like an impatient elementary school kid waiting for recess.

you shook your head. "no. he cheated on me."

there was a pause, brutal silence, as his brow furrowed in confusion, his fists clenched briefly before letting go. his gaze fell to his hands for a moment, and when he spoke again it was so cautious, so pointed, that your stomach sank. "and then you just happened to start dating me?" he looked so tired. "same job, same goals, pretty much same life." he let out a breath. "you can't tell me that's a coincidence."

you sighed, prayed to whatever god would listen that honesty would count for something. "no, it wasn't a coincidence." your heart felt like it was lulling itself to sleep. "you were never a coincidence."

he dropped his head between his knees, and hurt vibrated through the air like sound waves. you could feel his hurt in your fingertips, could have melted in down, frozen it, wielded it like a weapon. "tell me something, baby," he pleaded, muffled by his legs. "please."

you knew it was unfair, but you laid a gentle hand on his fingers. "let me tell you all of it, please, jack, and then you don't have to see me again if you don't want to."

he took a breath that you felt in your bones, then in an act of mercy you cherished, gave a soft nod.

so you did. you told him the whole story - how you had been so devastated and hurt that you were blinded by a desire to make auston suffer. how you had chosen jack on purpose, because you knew it would cut the deepest. how you had not simply shown up randomly at that bar, all that time ago, how all of it was part of a plan, down to flirting with his friend, down to that first game of pool.

he didn't push your hand away, actually leaned his leg into your arm as you told him the story. the scary part's over, you wanted to say, you can stop hiding under the covers, now.

and so you told him about how he had hijacked your plan entirely. how you never expected to determine how good your day was based on how often you heard his laugh, how no one could have predicted how often you dreamed of his smile, how days when he was away truly felt like a loss.

"if i had known you, i never would have put you through this," you told him, finally, honestly. "i would have left you alone."

he was quiet for a moment, and then he picked his head up and looked at you, genuinely, thoughtfully. "you never would have used me to get back at your ex-fiance?" he asked, but there was not really any bite in his tone.

you tried your luck, reached up, brushed his damp hair from his forehead. "i did use you," you admitted. "and i don't have an excuse." he looked at you with clear eyes. "it was mean, and cruel, and all i can do is say that i'm so, so sorry and i will never hurt you like that again. i promise, that's the truth."

in the silent moments after you finished speaking, you closed your eyes for a brief moment, waiting for his reaction.

when you opened your eyes, he was looking at you. he opened his legs and knees wide, held open his arms, waiting. "i believe you."

it took no convincing for you to settle into the space he had created for you, to lean back against his chest, feel his heartbeat between your shoulder blades, his arms coming around your sides to clasp in front of your middle.

"you believe me?" you said, almost a whisper. you picked up his hand, held it to your chest, shocked that he was letting you. shocked that he was still here, making space for you.

you let the smell of him engulf you. it felt similar to walking into your mother's closet - the evidence of her living, loving, everywhere around you. the evidence of jack was everywhere, now, all over you, growing like some carnivorous plant over your heart.

"you promised," he said simply, into your hair.

and how spectacular it felt for someone to take you seriously, to take your words at face value, to understand that when you promised something, you meant it.

it felt like words were failing you, so you brought his hand to your mouth and pressed your lips to his palm lightly.

he hummed into your hair. "tell me about now," he said, voice steady and patient.

"hm?" you twisted your neck to look him in the eye, leaned back further until the back of your head rested on his chest.

"you told me about before. about him," he said, his eyes swimming with home, with hope. "tell me about us. tell me about now."

you searched for words, wondering how you could convey just how important he was to you, just how deeply you cared.

you could have said that his eyes were the most beautiful ocean you'd ever swam in. you could have said that kissing him felt like swallowing stardust, that listening to him talk about his day was a privilege and honor.

you could have said how you loved his voice after a long day, how he wore his emotions openly, shamelessly, how kind he was to those around him, how he didn't let you leave his house in doubt for even a second about his feelings, how he let laughter come easy, how he was many things but never, ever, indifferent.

you could have said so many things, but sometimes poetry and fancy words are inadequate, just diluting the true meaning, make it taste like watered-down juice, faint and lacking.

you could have said so many things, but you just told him the truth.

"i wake up every morning and i think of you," you said. "every moment you're not with me, i wish you were." you willed every ounce of meaning into your gaze. "you are my first choice, every time, jack. and it's not even close."

there was a silence as he processed what you said, and something like adoration dawned in his gaze like a springtime sunrise.

he tilted his head down, pressed his lips to yours in a kiss that told you he understood.

that no matter how you had gotten here, you were here, now.

"tell me again," he whispered against your mouth, and you smiled into his. that, you could do.

fin.

#hockey #nhl #hockey smut #nhl smut #smut #jack hughes #jack hughes smut #quinn hughes #trevor zegras smut #jack hughes x reader #auston matthews x reader #auston matthews #auston matthews smut #auston matthews imagine #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes imagine #new jersey devils #toronto maple leafs

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misshoneyimhome · 1 month

Note

Trying to stay quiet is hard while William’s brother is in town staying over his house and William pushing his innocent’s girlfriend’s boundaries/limits 🌶️

Ooooh, yes, darling! How can we not love some dom!Willy putting her ability to stay quiet to the test? 🫢🤍

I know, we've explored this dynamic before, but there's no reason we can't revisit it, right? 💦

Please do see these requests that also spiced up the scene a little; [“You can cry”] [Little experiment] 🌶️

Warnings; smut 18+; brief masturbation, brief dry humping, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, squirting, anal play (finger), penetrative sex (p in v), cum inside;

Word count; 6.5K

[Inexperienced!reader x Willy]

・✶ ｡ﾟ

All good boys go to heaven - But bad boys bring heaven to you pt XII I William Nylander ⚡️💦

The past week had been rather eventful. Your boyfriend, William Nylander, had been away on the road, and you’d both missed each other deeply. Yet upon his return, he’d seemed distant, retreating to the training rink.

Naturally, you were puzzled by his behaviour, as he after being apart for several days, despite it being filled with passionate and intimate calls, chose to prioritise hockey training upon his return. And as a caring partner, you’d decided to seek him out and solve whatever troubled him.

William was undeniably a wonderful boyfriend. You couldn't deny that. He was caring and considerate, yet he also displayed a certain possessiveness and jealousy.

While he often projected an image of calm and confidence in public, always sure of his abilities in the game, his true insecurities lay within your relationship. Thankfully, his jealous thoughts were gradually diminishing as your relationship grew stronger and closer. However, concerns about you choosing to dedicate your life to William’s still lingered in his mind.

Whenever he witnessed you enjoying time with friends and relishing in activities outside of the hockey world, he couldn't help but feel apprehensive about your commitment to him. Yet, every time you reassured him that you wanted to be with him, emphasising that he was the only one for you, regardless of the lifestyle you led.

And as the morning sun gently seeped through the curtains on that ultimo February Monday, you gradually stirred from your sleep, feeling entirely at ease, and relaxed with your boyfriend softly snoring beside you.

The previous week had been quite busy at work. With William away on the road, you had put in extra hours in order to earn yourself a day to work from home and to spend some quality time together in the morning before his training session.

So, for now, you luxuriated in the simple pleasure of waking up slowly with William beside you. Nestled under the duvet, you savoured the moment, basking in the comfort of his presence and the gentle rhythm of his breathing as he slept.

The clock showed 7:12, prompting you to allow him a bit more sleep while you entertained yourself, and with your phone in hand, you started browsing through social media. You usually maintained a discreet online presence to steer clear of any unwanted gossip, but your focus was quickly captured by images from the lads' road trip.

William appeared strikingly handsome in his suits. Whether it was the turquoise or the lilac one, he oozed style effortlessly. And even though you'd already seen the photos when they were first shared, you couldn't resist keeping your gaze fixed on your boyfriend's pictures as you savoured the peaceful morning.

And as you continued to study the photos from the roadie, you found yourself growing increasingly aroused. It felt somewhat peculiar, considering William was right beside you in the flesh, yet you couldn't resist being turned on by the images. Gradually, as you rubbed your thighs together, you noticed a sensation between your legs, your core tingling as your thoughts drifted, imagining what it might have been like to make love in a Vegas hotel room after the team's victory. You pictured William still clad in his suit jacket, shirtless, trousers hanging around his knees as he'd bend you over a couch and ravish you. Something that seemed straight out of a steamy movie scene.

Your hands instinctively began to glide down between your legs, your gaze still fixed on the screen displaying William, as your fingers found your sensitive clit. And with gentle circles, you elicited a soft gasp from your lips, feeling waves of pleasure gently wash over you.

However, completely lost in the moment, you didn't even notice William slowly opening his eyes beside you. "What are you doing?" he huskily murmured, interrupting your train of thought, and causing you to squint in surprise.

"Oh... Fuck, Willy," you breathed out in a hushed tone, turning your head to meet his sleepy gaze. "I'm sorry, I didn't realise you were awake..."

William simply chuckled sheepishly. "So, you thought you'd touch yourself like this, early in the morning, while I was sleeping next to you?" he propped himself up on his elbow, flashing a wide grin.

Meeting his gaze with a playful eye roll and a smirk of your own, you shifted onto your side to face him, propping your head up just like he did. "Oh, my apologies, I wasn't aware there was a specific time frame for touching oneself," you teased, infusing your tone with playful mockery.

"Baby, you know you're always welcome to masturbate," William chuckled, edging a bit closer to you, and resting his hand on your hip. "But I just thought you might want some assistance..."

His gravelly morning voice never failed to send shivers down your spine, so naturally, you leaned in closer, meeting him in a tender morning kiss. "Oh Willy, I'd always prefer your assistance..." you murmured seductively before pressing your lips to his, sharing a deeper kiss where your tongues gently intertwined before pulling away momentarily.

With a soft chuckle, William traced his thumb lightly across your lower lip, his cerulean eyes studying your beautiful, makeup-free face. "So, was it the penalty box again?" he teased, referring to the steamy encounter you both shared at the hockey rink last night.

Playfully rolling your eyes once more, you shook your head gently. "No..." you whispered seductively before retrieving your phone once more and showing him what had caught your attention so early on a Monday morning. "It was just photos of you... in your suits..." you confessed softly; your gaze locked on his as he looked at the screen.

Turning towards you, he let out a soft chuckle. "This got you all turned on? Well, babe, looks like you have a thing for that suit..."

"Hmm... well yeah, but I do love you more…" you smirked, setting your phone on the nightstand as you leaned into William once again. "Naked..." you whispered seductively, sliding under the duvet, and sensually straddling him as he rolled onto his back, allowing you to position yourself smoothly atop him.

Your chest pressed against his, your arms framing his face while his hands settled on your hips, your bodies intimately aligned. Leaning down, you shared another passionate kiss, disregarding any traces of morning breath, simply revelling in the escalating heat between you. And speaking of heat, as you gently rocked your hips against his groin, you couldn't help but notice his member evident beneath his boxers.

William's hands then slowly moved to your buttocks, giving them a gentle squeeze before enveloping your figure in his arms, swiftly flipping you onto your back. "You're so fucking sexy in the morning," he murmured against your lips, momentarily breaking the kiss to trail his lips along your jawline, while your fingers tangled in his blonde hair.

It was a fervent and intense moment shared between you; both fully awake as the craving for pleasure consumed you. Despite knowing that time was limited with William's impending training session and your own work obligations, neither of you cared. However, amidst the passionate intimacy, William's phone suddenly buzzed.

Initially, you both ignored it, fully immersed in kissing and grinding against each other. However, as the buzzing persisted, William let out a sigh and moved to check the caller ID.

"Shit, it's Alex," he whispered before answering the call, switching to Swedish, and moved away from you, sitting up against the headboard to talk to his brother.

You couldn't make much out the conversation, and as it continued, you felt a little mischievous urge and decided to straddle your boyfriend once more. Leaning back, William simply chuckled as he conversed with his brother, while your lips found his bearded neck, leaving soft kisses before gently sucking and nipping at his skin.

And as the intensity of your actions increased, William had to really concentrate on the conversation with his brother while you continued to grind your hips, feeling his member slowly growing beneath you. And though he cursed under his breath, he couldn't resist letting you continue.

Then finally, as he bid his brother farewell and ended the call, you released his skin, cupped his face, and flashed him a cheeky smile.

"You're being naughty, baby," he chuckled lightly, feeling his semi-erect cock eager for attention.

"Sorry, I couldn't resist," you simply offered an innocent smirk, batting your eyelashes.

Pulling your hips closer to his, William released a deep growl. "Mmm... enjoying teasing me like that, are you?" he asked rhetorically, his voice dripping with seduction. With your fingers playing with the tousled locks of his hair, you simply bit your lower lip and nodded. "Hmm, I love it when you get kinky..." William breathed out before forcefully pressing his lips against yours.

"Mmm... me too, Willy," you murmured into the kiss, surrendering once more to his touch. Though it was passionate and filled with lust, it still retained a romantic essence, brimming with desire. And when breaking apart once more, William wore a wide grin.

"I'm going to make you feel so good tonight, baby, fuck you so hard for teasing me like that... you'll be feeling it for days..."

Your cunt skipped a beat at his words, his seductive, husky voice echoing in your ears as you bit your lower lip again. "Mmm, can't wait," you moaned softly, stealing another deep kiss before William pulled away, both of you catching your breath.

"Good," he simply said, glancing over at his phone, which indicated he was running very late for today's training. "Oh fuck..." he cursed before gently pushing you off him and heading straight to pick out something to wear.

You couldn't help but chuckle as you watched your boyfriend hurry around in a flurry of distress, his hard on still evident as he pulled on his sweats. "You might want to clear your mind on the way there," you teased as you sat on the bed, a cheeky smirk playing on your lips.

But William simply chuckled at your amusement as he approached, pulling his hoodie over his head before planting a kiss on your lips. "Oh, by the way, my brother's coming to town tonight," he announced with a huge smirk, causing your eyes to widen in surprise.

"What?" you asked, taken aback by his sudden revelation. "But you just said..." you attempted to remind him of his earlier words, vividly describing the plans he had in store for you tonight.

But again, William merely laughed darkly as he slipped on his shoes. "Well, I guess you'll just have to find a way to be quiet then..."

It was a mischievous plan, and he knew it. Still, he couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction as he observed your expression.

"You're joking, right?" you questioned with a slight smile, raising an eyebrow as you searched for any hint of mischief in his expression.

But William simply chuckled a "Nope,” slinging his bag over his shoulder as he prepared to leave. "See you later tonight, babe," he finally said, walking out the door and leaving you bewildered, alone on the bed, completely frozen.

"That motherfu..." you muttered to yourself before being greeted by two very enthusiastic dogs, eager for their morning walk.

Maintaining focus on work throughout the day proved to be nearly impossible. Not only was concentration elusive, but William's morning teasing lingered in your thoughts.

"What is he up to?" you pondered. Surely, he wouldn't want to have heated, dominant sex while his brother was visiting. Right? Yet, knowing William as well as you did by now, you wouldn't put it past him.

Considering where and how the two of you might sneak in some sexual time, it almost wouldn’t be out of the ordinary – and you couldn't help but chuckle at the memories; Last night's rendezvous at the rink, the restroom escapade with friends outside before he hit the road, not to mention the locker room incident—Auston's expression still brought a smile to your face. And then there was the memorable introduction to the family in Sweden, where your not-so-subtle moans echoed through the house. So, having sex with Alex around might not be the most outlandish move for you both.

However, you had only met Alex in person a few times, along with occasional family video calls. With both brothers playing in the NHL, their schedules often overlapped, limiting opportunities for extended interaction.

Your first encounter with Alex was during Christmas. After meeting the entire Nylander family during the Global Series in Sweden, the core family had invited themselves to Toronto for the holiday season. And naturally, during the days when you weren't with your own family, you joined the festivities, with Alex flying in from Pittsburgh.

It was a heart-warming experience as the Swedish family embraced you as one of their own. Camilla had even presented you with a small gift, despite your protests. As your boyfriend's mother put it, "You're family. Of course, you deserve a present."

Alex was a sweet young man who had welcomed you into the family almost as warmly as the others. However, while William's sisters were more like to tease him about being lovesick, Alex approached the situation with a more serious demeanour.

Initially, you couldn't quite discern why he seemed guarded around you. But as the day progressed and he gradually relaxed, he confided that he was just very protective of William. The two brothers had always shared a close bond, and as they grew into adulthood, they also shared their thoughts and feelings about relationships. And given William's troubled history with relationships, mostly limited to casual sexual encounters, Alex wanted to ensure that you had genuine intentions toward his brother.

You found his concern both sweet and thoughtful. And as you candidly expressed your feelings for William, Alex listened attentively and soon became convinced of your sincerity.

All in all, the Nylanders were a close-knit family, and despite your initial apprehension about being fully accepted into the group, they were nothing but caring and welcoming toward you. And after their last visit during the contract negotiations, you felt confident that you were truly becoming a part of the family.

However, tonight, it would only be Alex visiting. With NHL trades happening left and right, you had been trying to limit your time on social media, but as soon as Alex was mentioned, you couldn't help but be intrigued to find out more. A few days ago, he had been traded to Columbus, and to mark the occasion, he and William had decided to meet up for one evening.

Naturally, you suggested a boys' night in, where you could spend time with some girlfriends or colleagues. However, both William and Alex insisted on you staying. And while you were pleased by their suggestion, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was a hidden motive behind it. Which turned out to be William wanting you to cook one of his favourite meals: lasagne. Apparently, you were exceptionally skilled at making it, though you weren't quite sure why, but your boyfriend absolutely loved it.

So, after a day of work and a meeting, you closed your laptop, leashed up the dogs, and headed out for grocery shopping before immersing yourself in the kitchen. Meanwhile, across the city, William was finishing up his training for the day before heading to pick up Alex. Normally, the brothers would enjoy a one-on-one hockey session, but with Alex's limited time in the city, they opted for a simple dinner instead.

"Wow, if this isn't wifey material, I don't know what is!" Alex exclaimed with a hearty chuckle as he stepped into the inviting space of your kitchen.

"Well, it's great to see you too, Alex," you greeted the younger brother, pulling him into a warm hug.

"It smells amazing!" he grinned, before wandering into the living room to greet the doodles, while you exchanged a kiss with your boyfriend.

"It really does, älskling," William chuckled lightly as he pulled away from the kiss, flashing you a sweet smile.

"Oh, come on, you two, I'm still here," Alex teased playfully from the other side of the kitchen island, earning chuckles from both you and William.

"Does that have to change anything?" William mocked with a grin, gently pulling away from you as you moved to set the dinner table.

"I guess not. From what I've heard, y/n here doesn't mind having an audience," Alex added with a cheeky wink, causing you to widen your eyes and feel a blush rise to your cheeks.

"Are we still on that?" you playfully whined with an eye roll, fully aware that neither of the siblings would ever let it go.

"Yeah, and we probably always will be," Alex replied with a smile as you placed the glasses on the table.

"Don't mind him, babe, he's just jealous that I have someone like you," William chuckled as you all finished setting the table and you prepared to bring in the lasagne, gesturing for the boys to take their seats.

"Maybe, although I might not be as ready as you are to be a groomie," Alex added with a chuckle, earning a slightly curious look from you.

"A what?"

"You know, a groomie? You two live together, like roomies, but you're like real wifey material, making Willy here your groomie..." Alex explained with a chuckle, seeming a bit too pleased with his wordplay.

You let out a light laugh, not entirely sure how William felt about the husband-and-wife joke so early in your relationship. But as usual, he simply brushed it off with a joke.

"Believe me, we don't just live together as roomies," he flashed his younger brother a cheeky grin and a wink before digging into the meal, and both you and Alex joined in the laughter.

During dinner, conversations flowed effortlessly as you caught up with Alex about everything, from the highs to the lows. He was thrilled about his opportunity to play for the Blue Jackets and was determined to prove his worth. Despite being a talented player, he had faced his fair share of struggles throughout his career, as having William as his older brother was both a blessing and a curse.

Both brothers had worked tirelessly to climb the ranks in the NHL. Despite their natural talent and their father's own NHL background, success didn't always come easy. As they reached the pinnacle of their careers and played for prominent teams, comparisons were inevitable. However, what truly bonded them was their unwavering support for each other. While they might be competitive in their free time, when it came to their professional endeavours, they supported each other through thick and thin - at least when they weren’t playing against each other.

And before long, you found yourself cleaning up the kitchen after the lasagne feast, while the boys shouted at the TV, engrossed in a few rounds of NHL PlayStation.

You couldn't help but shake your head, finding their behaviour amusing. It was easy to imagine that they had been like this their entire lives—growing up together, constantly competing in everything. You even had to intervene at times when the competition became too intense, but nevertheless, it was a delightful sight to behold.

"Alrighty, boys," you cheerfully announced, trying not to disrupt their game too much. "I'll be heading off to bed."

"Sure," William simply muttered, his eyes glued to the TV screen.

"Sleep tight," Alex added, equally focused on the game.

And as you slowly made your way towards the bedroom, a mischievous chuckle escaped you. Perhaps you were feeling a bit playful.

"Oh, I hope I won't be too cold lying in bed all by myself... completely naked," you announced loudly with a teasing grin, testing if William had heard you before.

And the comment seemed to catch his attention. Pausing the game momentarily, he let out a deep sigh, knowing you were simply teasing him. And Alex couldn't contain a chuckle as he turned to his older brother and spoke in Swedish once again.

"Seriously... marry her."

Though the boys both laughed and resumed their game, William couldn't shake the feeling stirred up by the mention of marriage. He knew your relationship was still relatively new, yet it felt like you had been together for ages. Perhaps it was because you had been close friends before dating, always sharing a deep connection through heartfelt banter.

Regardless, he knew that one day, when you both felt ready, he would take the next step. But for now, he cherished the fact that you lived with him, shared his everyday life, and served as his anchor, regardless of titles.

And while enjoying the comfort of your bed, you found yourself immersed in your thoughts, leisurely scrolling through your phone as your favourite TV show provided background noise. Despite not feeling particularly tired, you chose to retire to the bedroom, mindful of not interrupting the special brotherly bonding time taking place in the living room.

Bathed in the soft glow emanating from the bedroom lights, a contented smile graced your face at the distinct medley of sounds echoing from afar: the lively banter, occasional Swedish curse words, and the genuine laughter shared between William and Alex. The familiarity of their camaraderie brought a warmth to the room, wrapping you in a cocoon of comfort and tranquillity.

Then after what seemed like an hour, perhaps a bit longer, the tranquillity was gently interrupted as William quietly entered the bedroom, his presence a welcomed surprise.

"Thought you were asleep," he murmured softly, shedding his clothes down to his boxers before slipping under the covers and leaned into you with a tender kiss.

With a subtle click, you turned off the TV, redirecting your attention to the man beside you. "Hmm... couldn't fall asleep without my human heating blanket," you quipped playfully, a light chuckle escaping your lips as you met his gaze.

"Wait, hold on," William smirked as he took a grip of the duvet and peered underneath, letting out a deep sigh. "You're not naked," he stated firmly, his expression mockingly serious as a darkness slowly crept into his eyes and a smirk formed on his lips. "We better change that."

A soft giggle escaped you as William slowly began to undress you, his large palms exploring your body as he discarded your few pieces of clothing—a t-shirt and a pair of knickers. Though you tried to object, reminding him that Alex was just down the hall, it was futile. William's strength prevailed, and deep down, you knew you didn't truly want to resist. He captured your lips in a deep, passionate kiss, swiftly taking control and positioning himself on top of you, and you surrendered to his touch without hesitation.

"Mmm..." William hummed as he trailed kisses behind your ear, your fingers tangling in his untamed hair. "Ready for a little experiment, baby? Wanna see how many times I can make you cum and squirt tonight. Soak my sheets like the good little girl you are."

His words alone caused your core to twitch, eliciting a gasp as you sank deeper into his touch. "Willy... we can't..." you whispered in protest, though you knew your own words lacked conviction.

His mouth was intoxicating, casting a spell that captivated you instantly. And as he peppered your neck with nips and bites, sending sparks coursing through your veins, you realised you were his to command. The way he teased each of your nipples sent waves of pleasure rippling through your body, your eyes fluttering closed as you watched him use his mouth and hands to drive you wild.

And as William continued his sensual assault on your senses, you couldn't help but succumb to the intoxicating mixture of desire and anticipation coursing through your veins. Each touch, each kiss, sent shockwaves of pleasure radiating throughout your body, igniting a fiery passion that burned within you.

Then after breaking the connection between his lips and your skin, William glanced up at you with a mischievous grin playing on his lips. "Think you can be a good girl and stay quiet?" he inquired, his tone taking on a darker edge.

Meeting his gaze, you let out a deep sigh, biting your lip as you nodded, shifting your hands to grip onto the pillow beneath your head.

But you were well aware that William's experiment was merely a prelude to a game he enjoyed playing. You knew that as soon as you agreed to his request, he would undoubtedly seek to test your limits and challenge your ability to remain silent. So, with a dark chuckle, he simply remarked, "We'll see about that..."

He smoothly manoeuvred his lips downward, maintaining a constant connection with your skin as he positioned himself between your legs. His arms hooked underneath your thighs, securing your lower body in place and making any movement impossible.

With deliberate teasing, he placed butterfly kisses on the sensitive skin surrounding your core, purposefully avoiding the area where you craved his touch the most. And despite your whispered pleas, he continued his tantalising assault, knowing full well that you would struggle to remain silent.

Your breaths grew increasingly erratic with each kiss, anticipation building as he finally allowed himself to delve into his late-night meal. His tongue traced a path along your already moistened folds, eliciting a soft curse from your lips in a whispered breath, prompting him to look up with a smirk.

"Thought you'd be quiet..." he chuckled darkly before returning his attention to your core.

You clenched your fingers into the pillowcase as William skilfully indulged in your flesh, alternating between licking and sucking on your clit, occasionally teasing your entrance to ensure no part went unattended. It was a challenge to keep your promise of silence, and he knew it. Your squirming movements and muffled cries only fuelling his determination to bring you pleasure.

And as the intensity of his ministrations intensified, arousal surged within you, your orgasm building with each lick. With his tongue delving deeper, your hips instinctively sought more contact, but he restrained you.

"Ple... please..." you unintentionally pleaded as you felt the climax nearing its peak. And with expert precision, William shifted his attention, sucking on your sensitive bud, eliciting another cry from your lips as the pleasure reached its crescendo.

Yet, despite the overwhelming sensations coursing through you, you remained patient, knowing well the game William played in this mood, waiting for his signal to surrender to the blissful release.

"You're being such a good girl…" he hummed against your core, feeling it was only fair to grant you what you desired most. Digging in a little deeper, his beard rubbing roughly against your skin, he decided to push you over the edge. "Come for me…"

And with those words, you surrendered to the climax, arching your back under William's firm grip as you buried your head into the pillow. Your moan was almost silent as you focused on gasping and breathing, suppressing any vocalisation to the best of your ability.

It was no easy feat, but the euphoria of the high was indescribable. And as William helped you come down from the peak with gentle kisses, your eyes met once more. You had to blink a few times to regain your focus, but as you caught sight of his smirk between your legs, you knew you had done well, and he would reward you.

Yet William's game had more levels, and you had only passed the first one.

Moving to hover over your body once more, he reconnected your lips, allowing you to taste your own essence before pulling back again. His charming blue eyes had darkened, his smirk exuding confidence as he looked down at you beneath him.

Then, in his husky, deep growl, he laid down the next rule. "You can cry, but you’re not allowed to make a sound - understood?"

Nodding your head once more, you gave him the consent along with the power to proceed.

With thoughts brewing in his mind about how to explore your amazing body further, a body he knew every curve and corner of by now, and which buttons to push, William reached over to the nightstand, retrieving the new pair of handcuffs he had recently purchased, since he broke the last pair. And naturally, he tied your hands in place above your head as you anticipated. It was almost routine for you by now, yet the restrictions of making any sound added thrill to the play.

Tossing the duvet aside, William felt happy with how you were displayed on the bed for him. Your round breasts proudly on display with your hardened nipples, while your cunt dripped from the first orgasm. However, he wasn’t entirely satisfied. He needed to test your limits, to make you scream in a way he knew you shouldn't.

And one way William knew to elicit uncontrollable moans from you was with his fingers. Tracing them up your slick folds, he explored your wetness with his two thick digits, feeling your thighs clench whenever he briefly brushed over your clit, teasingly light. Then, playing with your entrance, he eased a finger inside, relishing the warmth of your core enveloping it before slipping in another. And as he stretched you, he felt your walls clench and pulsate with every pump.

William was nothing short of skilled with his fingers. Alone, they could bring you to climax, especially as he knew how to curl them just right. And curl them he did, finding your special spot inside and increasing his pace as he watched your body respond, twitching in pleasure.

"Oh…" a moan escaped your lips, and as it did, William only quickened his movements.

You had to bite down on your lip as he vigorously fingered your core, driving you closer and closer to the edge. And soon, you found yourself gasping for air and tugging at the cuffs above your head, as your voice was caught in your throat.

"Will…" you cried out in a soft whisper, and he knew you were nearing the peak, your slick walls providing undeniable evidence.

It was almost too overwhelming for you as his hand pumped faster and faster, driving you inexorably toward another climax. And before long, you found yourself rolling your eyes once more as he propelled you over the edge, your toes curling and a wave of ecstasy coursing through your body. But this time, it felt different, almost as if you were about to lose control and pee yourself; your lower stomach swirling as your cunt clenched, releasing a rush of fluid.

And for William, making you squirt was nothing but a triumph. His hand was drenched in your essence as he watched you gasp for air, your body arching in a graceful curve, lost in a blissful haze.

You were so incredibly hot. And while he had secretly hoped to coax a louder moan from you, he couldn't help but feel amused with your continued silence.

But that only spurred him on further. As he admired the sizeable wet patch beneath you, he gently retreated how fingers, before he stepped back from the bed and lowered his boxers, revealing his throbbing cock, eager for attention and pleasure.

William wasn't finished yet. He had only brought you to climax twice so far, and he knew that once he entered you, he wouldn't last long.

So instead, he swiftly spun you around and positioned you on your stomach before straddling your thighs. "Hmm... you're being so good, baby... let's see how much you can take."

Your lungs begged for more air as William playfully spread your cheeks apart, allowing a long string of saliva to drip down between them. The gasp that escaped you stole your breath once more, and you tried your best to relax as his thumb gently rubbed over your anus, but as he applied slight pressure, a small whimper escaped you.

"Willy..." you whispered.

"Are you giving up, baby?" he inquired with a soft chuckle, but you shook your head.

"Mmm... no... It's good," you softly replied, turning your head slightly so he could see your small smile. And with your encouragement, William continued to push his thumb inside, as you focused on controlling your breathing.

It didn't hurt, but it felt unlike anything else. Despite having experienced more than just his thumb before, it still took some time to acclimate to the sensation. Yet, you felt a pleasurable sensation as he moved his finger in and out, careful not to cause you any pain.

"Can you handle more?" he inquired with a rough, curious tone. And with another deep breath, you replied softly, "Yes."

William fought the urge to plunge his cock into your tight hole immediately, recalling the intense pleasure it had brought him during your last anal encounter. Instead, he positioned himself at your entrance while maintaining his fingers inside you.

Then as he slowly eased his length inside, you were on the verge of letting out a loud moan, yet you managed to suppress it. The pleasure was overwhelming, but what truly tortured you was William's deliberate pace. The way he slowly glided his shaft in and out of your wet cunt left you yearning for more. However, you also knew that giving in to hard, fast thrusts would result in both of you losing control too soon.

"Please…" you cried into the sheets beneath you, your tears adding to the already soaked fabric.

"Please what?" William's voice was rough with desire.

"Please, more…" you whimpered, your plea driving him to give you exactly what you desired.

And with a satisfied grin, William carefully removed his thumb from your tight entrance and pulled his cock back slightly, before shifting position, where he lifted your ass up into the air and caressed it gently before thrusting his length back inside your wet core.

It felt almost too easy. Your cunt was a welcoming pool for William to dive into, and it was all because of him. And as he settled into a fast-paced rhythm, he slammed his hips against your ass, hitting your deepest depths with each thrust, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

“Oh. Shit.” You muttered under your breath, still trying not to make any loud noises while William was vigorously pounding into you, however, as he kept up the rough pace, you couldn’t restrain yourself. The was his cock overstimulated every inch your walls, hitting deepest, sensitive spot had another intense orgasm forming, and your mind completely turning into something blurry. You were nothing but a crying mess, submitted to your master as he used your body.

William’s grip on your hips was firm, his fingers digging into your skin as he thrust into you with increasing urgency. "Fuck," he cursed under his breath, his motions becoming rapid and rough as he drove you both closer to the climax. And determined to push you both over the edge, William made his final move, retracting his hand from your hip before delivering a firm spank to your ass cheek.

The sharp sting elicited a loud moan from you, signalling the end of the game. And with the barrier broken, there was no holding back. "Oh fuck, Willy!" you exclaimed, your voice echoing with a string of loud curse words as your bodies collided with each thrust.

Encouraged by your response, William huskily urged you on. "That’s it, babe, scream my fucking name," he growled, punctuating his words with another hard spank as he continued to thrust into you.

And then the final orgasm finally washed over you, causing you to throw your head back and release a loud cry of pleasure. It was as if all the tension and restraint you had been holding back was finally unleashed, leaving you breathless and seeing stars.

The intensity of the experience left you in a euphoric state, your muscles tightening around William’s cock as he, too, succumbed to the blissful high of release.

Growling under his breath, William released his fluids into your depths, continuing to thrust as he rode out both of your climaxes and emptied himself completely. Sweat coated his toned figure, and as he finally ceased his movements, he paused to catch his breath.

“Shit…” he muttered, the intensity of the experience lingering in the air, the room thick with sexual smells and the lingering effects of endorphins.

You could barely muster the energy to open your eyes as William remained inside you, your walls pulsating as they tried to calm from the overstimulation. And when he eventually slowly withdrew his sensitive length, you collapsed onto the mattress, your body feeling completely spent and surrendered.

“Ew…” you whined with a chuckle.

“What?” William asked, sitting back on his heels as he watched you roll over onto your back, revealing the sizeable wet patch on the sheets and the rubbed-off makeup on your pillowcase, clear evidence of your passionate encounter.

“I think we need to change the sheets…” you said with a laugh, meeting William’s gaze in a post-coital haze.

With a nod and a chuckle of his own, William agreed. “Guess mission accomplished,” he said lightly, before leaning over your body to undo the handcuffs, freeing your arms once again.

It was a blissful moment of passionate sex, filled with raw desire for each other, as you both regained the strength to clean yourselves up and attend to the mess you’d created before settling in for the night. Both of you couldn’t suppress your satisfied laughter, but then suddenly, you halted.

“Oh, shit,” you exclaimed as you remembered something. “The spare sheets are in the guest room… where Alex is,” you explained to William, knowing he likely hadn't realised.

But, ever so charming, William simply chuckled. “I’ll go and get them,” he said, before slipping on his boxers and leaving you alone.

And after just a few more seconds, you heard Alex’s voice echo. “Can the two of you seriously never keep your hands off each other? I was right in here!”

His words caused your cheeks to flush a little, yet a satisfied smirk remained on your lips. And as William returned with the fresh, clean sheets, your expression showed a hint of concern for his younger brother. But quickly, William eased your concerns. “Don’t worry… he had his headphones in.”

As you and William exchanged a knowing glance, a sense of shared amusement danced between you. It was a typical scenario in your household, one where passion often spilled over, sometimes to the inconvenience of others.

And with the sheets changed and the evidence of your earlier activities tucked away, you both settled back into bed, the weight of the day's excitement finally catching up to you. Entwined in each other's arms, you basked in the comforting warmth of your shared love.

#my asks #18+#Inexperienced!reader x Willy #william nylander imagine #nhl smut #wn88 imagine #william nylander smut #nhl hockey imagine #toronto maple leafs imagine #SlutsforPresidentNylander

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huggybearluvr · 3 months

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chatty cathy | am34

summary: After a harsh break-up you move to Toronto to be closer to your older brother. However, after many sleepless lonely nights in your new apartment your brother notices your changed persona and insist you come on a roadie with him to L.A.

pairing: auston matthews x marner!Reader

Masterlist

After you opened up to your older brother about how you've been feeling lonely he insisted you join him on a roadie to get out of your apartment.

You agreed, However you didn't expect to be sat at a bar in L.A beside his teammate and bestfriend.

Mitch had spent the night running between teammates and yourself rambling on and on about anything and everything.

"He can really talk can't he?" Auston laughed as Mitch ran off to the next group to ramble on some more.

"That he can," You joined in laughing, "When we were little he would talk himself to sleep."

"No fucking way," Auston said laughing even harder.

"Now thanks to that fucker, I can't sleep without some kind of noise or someone with me," You said, slightly opening up.

"I don't mean to be nosy or anything but Mitch told me you came with us because you've been lonely?"

"Yeah, My Ex and I broke up six months ago," You sighed looking down at your glass.

"Are you not over him?" He asked.

"No I definitly am, I broke up with him," You said now looking to meet Auston's eyes.

"So then it would be okay for me to ask you on a date, when we get back to Toronto?"

"I think I would like that very much," You smiled, over at the hockey player.

#auston matthews #auston matthews smut #auston matthews x reader #auston matthews imagine #auston matthews fic #auston matthews blurb #toronto maple leafs #nhl smut #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl blurb

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holy-puckslibrary · 3 months

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━ 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐈𝐀𝐍.

main masterlist

pairing(s) — MITCH MARNER x reader (est. relationship) wc — 4.5k synopsis — think hilary duff’s balcony engagement circa 2007

note — this belongs to the i don't remember this bar collection

specific content warnings below the cut.

cw — profanity and other vulgar language, taking the lord’s name in vain + other religious-ish imagery, oral sex (m receiving), unprotected PIV intercourse (multiple) + creampie/breeding kink, discussion/thoughts of cum play, outdoor sex and mention of previous exhibitionism, mention of previous choking + breath play (f!reader receiving), pain kink situation (both), one line of blood play (f!reader receiving), justified violence (not directed at reader!!!), slight d/s dynamics, and possessive!mitch being a domestic little horndog

“Before we talk about that beautiful, game-tying goal in the tail-end of the second and your overall command of the offensive zone throughout tonight’s game, I first want to congratulate you on some major life news. A few weeks belated; my apologies.

For those who don’t know, you came back from the All-Star break with more than just a tan; you came back with—and as—a fiancé.”

Mitch does nothing to dim his megawatt smile or to dull the sparkle in his eyes. The mere mention of you coaxes out an impossibly giddier version of himself, unencumbered by the stress and pressure of a waning season. It’s always been that way.

It's difficult to remember a time before you. He doesn't want to.

Despite of meeting on arguably one of the worst nights of his life, somehow, all he feels when the memory rises to the surface of his mind is joy.

He remembers your laughter, warm and buoyant, and the way the low light painted flattering shadows across your kind face as you spoke animatedly about your passions and dreams. He remembers being treated like a person before anything else, not some character in a video game or a pawn in someone else’s fantasy league, and he recalls your fervent, genuine interest in his off-ice hobbies. Not once did you ask anything invasive or demand he share more than he was willing.

Nor did you fish for tickets.

For Mitch, privacy was paramount, and the sentiment echoed throughout your lengthy relationship. It was your through-line, and it should’ve blanketed the intimate proposal in safety.

He gets hot under the collar just thinking about it.

Mitch will entertain the host’s questions to an extent. Because, despite his insistence on privacy, he will never pass up an opportunity to sing your praises or brag about his luck.

“Did you bring anything else back? Any special souvenir to commemorate such a momentous occasion?”

Mitch is instantly hard, his pale cheeks ablaze, eternally grateful that the camera is filming from the chest up.

Carried in on a warm evening breeze, the evocation is so palpable he can taste the blue curaçao on his tongue and feel its muted burn in the back of his throat. The air smells of pineapple and your fragrant shampoo, a comforting scent that clings to him like a second skin. The phantom of your touch sends a shiver down the expanse of his sore, sweat-drenched back.

“—holy fuck.”

The crinkled, two-word curse tumbles from Mitch’s mouth with little effort.

Every modicum of tact was either battling against the warm rum coursing through his body or fighting to keep his guttural, damning moans at bay.

They are getting hot and heavy on a patio, after all.

Mitch knows this isn’t smart. He knows he should’ve moved the celebration indoors, that he should've waited until you were curtained in safety to give in to his desire and your wandering hands.

He knows, he knows, he knows.

The problem is he just doesn’t care.

Mitch wasn’t about to delay the appreciative mouth of the woman he was going to make his wife, not even for a second.

Even if she dropped to her knees with only a hedge to play look-out. A line of decorative foliage is their first and final defense, the leaves carelessly swaying between them and the rest of the luxury resort he booked for All-Star weekend.

It’s difficult to make sound decisions when the hand wrapped around your cock is newly weighed down by five carats.

The dazzling rock shines proudly in the concluding rays of a setting sun. Glittery and perfect, like the woman who wears it.

Mitch hisses when the tip taps the back of your throat for the first time that night. The sensitive skin melts into your tongue like an ice cube, the creamy droplets of anticipation swallowed greedily by your ravenous mouth. He sees stars in the cotton candy sky peeking through the palm trees.

It hasn’t been that long; his day began with your nose nuzzled against his pelvis, his head limp against the cool tile of the shower a few feet away.

When it comes to you, nothing is ever enough to curb his appetite.

Always needy, never satiated—a pair of perverted peas in a pod.

Your tongue repeats the delicious motion it had previously, too, lazily tracing along the underside of his length until he’s whimpering with no regard for anything besides spilling himself down your throat. He feels you smile around his thickness, pleased by the ease of his undoing. You were damn good; you deserved to be proud.

In all honesty, it took very little effort on your part to make him weak in both his knees and in his resolve.

However, there was a special kind of magic in your pretty face, now dusted by a salty sheen, nestled against his taut abdomen, his cock engulfed by the vice-grip of your throat.

Mitch is close already.

White-hot sparks descend through his quads and calves to zap his sandy toes. Electrified, his hips sputter of their own volition, but like the godsend you are, you accommodate every jolt and tilt in stride.

With one hand braced against his hip and the other gently massaging the heavy weight of his balls cradled in your palm, you peer up at him through a fan of fluttering lashes.

He whines—at the mischievous glint in your glassy eyes or the bite of your manicure as you sink your nails into his burnt skin, he can’t be sure.

Some of your fingers curl into the nasty bruise eating up his lower back, the by-product of a gruesome communion with the ice a few days prior. Sharp nails nip at the fragile skin. Mitch doesn’t know if the twinge of pain was intentional on your part, but he loves it either way. Perhaps a little too much, he thinks to himself as he twitches violently in your grasp.

And perhaps you aren't the only one with a masochistic streak. It's clear from the heaviness of your lids the converse applies to you.

His sweetheart's sick and sadistic. He's never been prouder.

“Get off,” he husks. Abruptly, he steps out from your embrace.

In retrospect, Mitch could’ve been nicer about it. At that moment, however, he was far too desperate for chivalry.

Staring down at your wide, despondent eyes—a pup deprived of her favorite bone—your fiancé amends, “Calm down, sweetheart. I’ll give it back soon. There’s no way in hell I’m wasting a load in your mouth when I know how good your pussy feels around my cock.”

Heat scales Mitch’s spine as he spreads you wide open against the chaise. Your folds glow brighter than the jewelry on your left hand.

With the tip of his finger, he tests the waters. Gingerly, at first, like he's still unsure you'll be able to take him. That charade hardly lasts, but tonight, it's barely a blip.

Your body eagerly welcomes the attention, mouthing at him before sucking the touch past the taut, elastic ring of your entrance. Your faint groans elicited by the intrusion harmonize so sweetly, so perfectly, that Mitch’s eyes fall shut in tranquil bliss.

When your hips rock against his palm, they snap open.

Blinking at him hard and fast, your teeth sink into your bottom lip, turning the plushness a sickly shade of pink—of desperation. Tears crowd your lash line but never cascade down your shiny cheeks; they, like you, are impatiently waiting for reprimand.

Mitch almost laughs. You did jump the gun, so he can't fault you for expecting the corresponding punishment. But it's a special occasion—you're celebrating, so it never manifests.

And Mitch wants to do more than just spank you silly. Plenty of time for that later. A lifetime's worth of it.

Instead, with the flick of his wrist, Mitch encourages you to take your pleasure.

The subtle, tantalizing movements, building in speed and ferocity with each pass, beckon him forward until his sunburnt skin is close enough to burn yours. Feeling you beneath him, feeling his weight rest against your body, feels better than heaven, and he’s barely started.

Like before, Mitch is painfully aware he won’t be able to last long. Judging by how silky-slick you are against his palm, you won’t be either.

With his free hand, he catches your jaw and, with little resistance, tilts your head to keep your gaze from straying. Your mouth falls open when he slips another finger inside. Mitch grins down at your lust-blown pupils and the feel of your hot breath against his lips. He leans down and licks into your idle mouth. A third finger causes your bottom lip to tremble between his and your forehead to ease, every little muscle going soft and pliant between the cushion and his chest.

“Atta girl,” Mitch praises. His lips press briefly to your cheek before beginning their descent along your throat. The touch is featherlight and sends a shiver down your spine, coaxing your chest further into his. “—love seeing you like this, all beautiful and open. And all fucking mine.”

Mitch wouldn't necessarily consider himself a territorial person, and he can't recall ever feeling possessive of a partner. Until he met you.

It had nothing to do with trust or a lack thereof; you were his the minute your eyes met through the crowd, and you reassured him of that fact constantly. It was never you that needed a reminder—it was everybody else.

The men who openly leer at you from every corner of Scotiabank Arena. The NHL hopefuls in your Instagram comments shamelessly flirting as if he didn’t exist or wasn’t in the photo, too. The unprofessional commentators who found ways to sneak in a lecherous comment or two under the guise of camaraderie whenever they spoke about his prowess.

You weren’t some object to be won or bought. You made a choice, and he’d make sure they knew and respected it.

Sure, the engagement ring will aid in this up-hill endeavor, but a little due diligence never hurt either.

“Tonight, it's gonna take. I’m making damn sure of that, sweetheart.”

Your walls squeeze his digits in recognition. Mitch chuckles, dark and dry, against your shoulder. You might like the implication more than he does.

You two weren’t trying, but you weren’t not trying either. Seeing you wearing his ring—the one he picked and purchased—kicked him down a perverted spiral. Flipped the last switch, cut the final cord. He wanted to complete the picture. He wanted to give those good-for-nothing losers one more reason to keep their mouths shut and their eyes to themselves.

“You’d love that, wouldn’t you? Love for me to fill you in a way that’ll last? C’mon, sweetheart, tell me what you want. Tell me how badly you want to be stuffed full of me, how much your pussy needs it—how badly you want to be heavy and swollen with my kid."

Mitch tends to your clit, keeping you borderline incoherent as he tickles your ears with more filth before you can reply to the first goading.

Your eventual responses are muffled by a long, primal whine.

When he has you swaying on the brink of collapse, he’s painfully hard against your inner thigh. There's an iridescent river pearling from the weeping head, freely flowing down to pool beneath your ass. It beams in the dim light like a beacon.

Transfixed and desperately in love, Mitch could cum right now. Just like this.

But staining a stupid fucking cushion would be more of a waste than shooting himself your throat. So, much to your chagrin, he, once again, retreats back onto his knees.

“C-come back,” you whimper with a loud hiccup. The choked sound is as pitiful as your attempts to reach for him. “Please, please, please—”

Satisfaction spreads over the bridge of his nose, leaving him rosy from one cheek to the other. He pins you with a heated, half-lid stare as he strokes himself.

His palm doesn’t feel as good as yours, but Mitch is grateful for that. He wants to drag this out. Instead of rutting into you like a teenager in the backseat of a car, or like himself after a long stint away.

That can’t—and won’t—happen if he keeps touching you. He has to back off before he loses his ever-loving mind.

“Stop being a tease,” you chide. Irritation weighs heavily on your voice. “Haven’t I waited long enough?”

“There’s something I want you to see first, you little brat,” he replies, adopting your sharp tone as he brings his open palm down on your inner thigh.

You shriek, but your eyes beg for another. Maybe he shouldn't have cut you any slack earlier...

He grants your silent wish with a matching blow to the other side before guiding his rigid cock to rest over your body.

And it was better than Mitch ever imagined.

He groans at the sight, “Can you see it? Can you, sweetheart?”

Mitch waits patiently for it to click in your mind, but the confusion that swiftly overtook your fucked-out features never dissipates. Eyes rolling, he shifts forward. Hand still wrapped around the base, Mitch leans over until the full length of him sits against your bare stomach.

Your body quivers over the contact, so he has to hold your hips down to keep you from wiggling and ruining everything.

“I know you can feel it, but I want you to see it. I want you to see how deep I get inside of you, sweetheart. All the way up…” Mitch trails off as his hands glide from your outer hips to the center of your abdomen.

His voice is so deep. So hungry. Your whole being—mind and body—goes weak at the foreign richness.

With tender thumbs, he applies pressure beneath his swollen tip. “—here.”

Mitch moves slowly at first, as if he'd just been sheathed inside of you. With each careful thrust, his stones caress your aching clit, all puffy and pouting.

It feels wonderful to be touched again, even if only in short bursts. But it's not enough friction or force to do much more than aggravate you further. Even when he picks up speed, it’s more hurtful than helpful.

Still, you cannot tear your eyes away from the angry, ruddy head dribbling out ropes of arousal or voice a shred of discontent. The opaque beads form a nonsensical pattern, but it's mesmerizing nonetheless.

If you were any less needy, you’d take your time running your fingers through the milky mess. Swirling around in the evidence of Mitch’s desire until you had enough to lick clean.

As if privy to your thoughts, he pins your wrists at your sides again.

Mitch isn’t faring much better than you. His eyes are trained on the shadow bisecting your middle. Locked, laser-focused. This little…exercise was as much for his amusement as it is for your education. He knows how far he can reach inside of you—knows how fucking fantastic it feels to be buried at the root, but seeing just how deeply he can fuck you is something else entirely.

It's enough to make him question why and how he ever stops fucking you. He’s an idiot for depriving himself. For neglecting you. An exercise in frustration as much as his fruitless effort to shun the rose-colored perversions dancing wild in his mind, Mitch has wasted so much time.

Fuck penance and fuck propriety—it would be a sin to do anything other than worship at your altar as a devoted acolyte. Cardinal, even.

His stomach tightens as he considers how empty you must feel in his absence—and how deliciously whole you must feel when he drives home. He wonders how forlorn your folds must look right now as he keeps what you covet just out of bounds. His body obstructs the view, but Mitch knows you’re open and fluttering around nothing, pleading for mercy.

If he were a cruel man, he’d ignore your begging and continue on like this until his balls were empty and your chest was covered in ivory threads. Lucky for you, your future husband is of the clement variety.

Before you can get another babble, his mouth is back on yours. He keeps your arms tight to your sides, so you’re incentivized to convey your fervent need for more—of anything, really—through your lips and tongue.

Mitch is greedy when he kisses you and needy while lapping up your fire—happily, and without pause. His head pounds like he finished a handle in a single sip, but he doesn’t want it to stop. Ever. It’s disorienting, and yet, he can’t seem to get enough no matter how much of you he drinks down. Mitch wants to spend the rest of his life drunk on your lips.

Begrudgingly, he tears his mouth from yours. Then, tanned chest heaving, he positions himself between your glistening southern lips. Mitch looks down at you, and when your vision finally focuses, his eyes have been shadowed in darkness by his hulking brow.

His prior impatience dwindles ever so slightly even though he's on the precipice of complete satisfaction. Mitch hasn’t gotten a good look at you since your nimble hands relieved him of his shorts some twenty minutes ago, and you are glorious. A celestial nymph with dominion over his heart, devastatingly beautiful and all-consuming in every conceivable way. The hold you have over him is dangerous, verging on obsession. There isn’t a thing he wouldn’t do or say if it appeased you so.

He isn’t fearful. He’s honored. The gratitude he feels knowing that you were, and remain, receptive to his devotion is overwhelming. And now, watching the lucid waters of lust ebb and flow in your glazed eyes, he’s never felt luckier.

Mitch thumbs the gem resting atop your finger, and you shudder as if it were the one tucked between your thighs.

His other hand lingers around your right wrist, though not as tightly as before. With his pulsing head shallow in your heat, he knows you’ll behave. Disrupting him now would only prolong his teasing. A lesson you learned—and were often reminded of—the hard way.

As his fingers trace the metallic band, warmed by the tropical sun and his furnace-like touch, Mitch pushes his hips forward, slow and steady, until he’s fully enveloped by your wanting walls. With your snug, pillowy softness stretching and constricting to accommodate his generous blessing, his grip on reality slips.

“You’re a fucking dream,” your fiancé rasps.

His hands are now splayed wide on either side of your head, effectively caging you beneath him as he builds a faithful rhythm. Teeth clenched, he works diligently to fashion a tribute worthy of your ethereal beauty and power.

“—always so warm and wet for me, just begging to be split open on my thick fuckin' cock. How long have you been this needy, sweetheart? Since I bent you over on the boat? Right over the railing where anyone could’ve seen you?”

You nod, bruised bottom lip pinched between your teeth. Tears well in your eyes.

Your afternoon tryst had been as quick as it’d been rough. Sundress bunched high, the fragile fabric wrinkled between your hips and the cool metal railing as Mitch’s right hand wrapped around your throat. His talented fingers pressed firmly into your sun-kissed skin, relentless in their torment, as he pawed at the pathetic knot struggling to hold your bathing suit in place. His mouth curled into a smirk as it whispered a heady mix of degradation and praise. All while you preened for him, a large crowd just steps away.

That wasn't the first orgasm you were robbed of today.

The hem of the thin material that clung to your anguished body floated demurely above your ankles, landing just shy of the bone. The sullied garment hid the incriminating evidence that inched down your sore thighs with every step you took. The irony was not lost on you as you walked back to your room.

“D’you know how hard it was to stop myself from fucking you in front of all those people? To hold back like that—to not bend you over and take in broad daylight? Of course you do, you sweet, sadistic minx. You always know how to rile me up—and you always find a reason to.”

Mitch grins against your lips before his teeth momentarily replace yours. They nestle into the grooves as if that was the expressed purpose of the faint indentations.

“With the way you’ve been behaving, I’m willing to bet you want a better souvenir than a gift shop tchotchke, hm? Y'gotta be patient for me, though—good girls wait for their rewards. Jus' wait… Oh, I don’t know, nine months? Give or take? Think you can do that for me?"

He’s being cheeky on purpose. He likes the way gentle irritation plays out between your legs—always has and always will.

Mitch releases your lower lip again, but only after he’s nicked it with his canines. A dainty bead of crimson materializes. Covetous, his tongue laps it up without pause. Painted lips kiss from cheek to cheek.

Your back arches. Your hips lift to rock in time with his thrusts.

“God, I can’t wait till we get those fuckin’ keys,” Mitch mumbles, almost absentmindedly.

The lean muscles of his upper body ripple as he sits up to grab ahold of your jaw, a calloused hand on either side. He has an unimpeded view of your dazed, saccharine countenance. His hips slow until they match the thumbs stroking escaped tears into your cheeks.

“—m'gonna take you in every room, against every surface. That way, there won’t be a single thing in our home that—fuck—that doesn’t remind you of me and how well I take care of you—you and your tight cunt.”

With little fanfare, he threads his arms under your dewy legs. Mitch uses the newfound leverage to tug your body even closer.

A shriek rips through the firm seam of your lips as his length traverses an unexplored depth. Your knees snuggle against the pit of his elbows, pleased to be so close in spite of the pain.

Mitch holds your gaze, reveling in your silent screams. He winks, then slowly lowers himself down until your body is folded squarely beneath his. Your muscles burn with the fury of budding resentment, which you’ll surely feel towards him in the morning after this unprompted foray into acrobatics, but the new angle is too good to do more than just... take it.

His hands are glad to have been relieved of their duty and, eager to take advantage of their newfound freedom, palm your chest as his mouth descends on your poor neck. The delicate skin is utterly defenseless against the desire thumping deep within his chest and spilling over his ribs.

Mitch wants to stake his claim—to mark his territory. A stammer of expletives accompanies the vulgar jut of your hips when he rolls your sensitive nipples, swollen and begging for attention, between thumb and forefinger. Bracketed by his forearms, you surrender completely.

Mitch hums at the lewd, sucking sound made by your arousal. Wet squelches ricochet off the adjacent wall with each and every thrust.

“I’ve really made a mess out of you, haven’t I?”

You nod, eyes pinched in concentration.

You’re close. He can feel your body trying to milk him dry. Fortunately, Mitch isn’t far behind. You feel too fucking good to prolong the inevitable.

He brings a hand to your clit, and it moves in messsy circles as he speaks, “Not done yet, though. Gonna flood this pretty cunt—gonna leave you all sticky and hot. I know you want it, but I need you to cum for me first. Go on, sweetheart, I’ve got you.”

You unravel on command, your chin falling to the side in ecstasy. Mitch’s firm hand is quick to wrench it back; he needs to watch your face contort as you crumble like he needs air to breathe. Mitch won't be able to think straight until he reaps the rewards of fucking and rubbing you through it.

The sob that wrecks your body is high-pitched and perforated by little gasps, and the rush of wetness is more pathetic than any noise you could and would make in your lifetime. More than you ever thought your body was capable of, more than your new fiancé expected, more than either of you anticipated.

He's soaked in a matter of seconds—as are you and the cushion dripping onto the concrete.

Mitch's climax comes in quick succession but, unlike yours, without warning. Undoubtedly, his peak was triggered by the gush of your undeniable satisfaction.

Drained dry, Mitch hunches over to capture your lips once more, determined to distract you from the inevitable bodily ache on the come-down. Delicately, he places your trembling legs onto the chaise and nestles into the space they vacated. He feels every little muscle twitch and spasm when he hugs you tightly to his body.

The world is muted, fuzzy around the edges, and drowned out by the aftershocks, so you miss most of his sweet-nothing rambling, but the relief and contentment that flood your spent body is reply enough.

He isn’t sure how long you stay like that—tangled together in paradise. You doze off, dipping in and out of consciousness, and wake just after the buttery sun slips entirely behind the horizon. Through the darkness surrounding your bare bodies, silvery moonlight replaces the golden rays of sunshine, but you—and your ring—shine as if nothing's changed.

You keep up a quiet conversation. Nothing of importance is spoken; it's carried on purely for the enjoyment of one another’s voice. Mitch peppers your skin, sticky from humidity and exertion, with tender lips, and you return the favor tenfold. You’re both smiling so wide, so happily.

And you keep grinning into the night, even when your cheeks begin to ache. It’s only when the light breeze ghosts over your bare skin that either of you consider relocating. In no rush and reluctant to leave your deep warmth, he’s leisurely about moving into the dim suite.

Mitch freezes abruptly. His stomach splatters at his feet when his mind catches up to his instincts. Murmuring. He hears murmuring. Terror races down his spine like an ice-cold chill. It's quiet at first. Almost as if the evening wind picked up a distant conversation yards away and softly settled it in his paranoid eardrums. He can’t make out any particular words—except his last name.

His mood sours beyond repair with the realization that the juvenile whispering is much too close, the giggles muffled only by the permeable wall of greenery bordering the suite’s ground-floor patio.

“We just wanted to be the first to say congratulations!” A teenage voice devoid of tact and respect calls out above a chorus of snorts and giggles.

Mortified, you bury your head into the crook of his neck. His chain is cold in comparison to your shame.

Mitch growls and reaches beside the chaise. He shouts something that would’ve made even the most shameless of shit-talkers blush, then sends a half-empty bottle of Dom Pérignon clear through the leaves. It shatters, and the crisp bubbles spill out on the concrete, sending the herd of inconsiderate assholes scattering like mice.

“I’ll go pick up the glass,” he sighs, knowing you’ll chastise him for the mess. "—later."

Mitch couldn’t be honest with the journalist.

He wouldn’t even if he could.

He shares so much of himself and his life with the world already—a hazard of the flashy, public-facing occupation he chose—and you’ve offered up far more of your world than he’d ever ask of you. He doesn’t mind a photo here or a video there, sometimes a press junket or two in a philanthropic context, but Mitch won’t bring the media into your private moments beyond where they’ve already encroached.

Especially not for a leading question intended to bait him into saying something stupid. Or to prematurely announce the impending arrival of your first child.

So, instead, he simply says, “Towels. But if the Four Seasons—or my future wife—asks, I’m totally joking, and I definitely put them all back.”

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sweetiepoison · 26 days

Text

Famous Baby (blurb)

The Final Straw

Warnings: verbal argument, angst, smut (oral receiving and giving, P in V) buckle up bc this is an emotional rollercoaster.”

“You’re so rude!”

“And you’re selfish!”

You scoffed, “Im selfish because I don’t think you need to make a speech?”

“It’s a congratulatory speech.” Auston clarified, “on behalf of the team-“

“The only people that need to make a speech are Justin and Ryan.” You cut him off placing your hands on your hips, “The owners of the company.”

Drew House was turning 5 and Justin’s mom had the idea to put together a party to celebrate the accomplishment. She wanted it to be big and filled with Justin’s friends, family, and the things he loved the most.

So she planned a few different meetings for everyone to get together which unfortunately for you included Auston you flew to LA specifically for this.

“So I can’t make a speech, but you get to sing a song?”

“Do you want us all to sit in silence the whole night?”

“Dj’s have a job for a reason.” Auston crossed his arms over his chest. “And they can play actual good songs.”

On any other day Auston’s jab about your music wouldn’t bother you. You deemed him useless and untalented musically speaking. But today, the comment put you over the edge.

You took a deep breath before calmly responding “Hire whoever you want Auston, I don’t care.”

Your cold tone, took Auston back. He didn’t expect you to switch it up so quickly. And only two outcomes were plausible now. The argument ends here or you were about to go off.

Auston knew this was a fragile moment and how he responded would determine the outcome. He should’ve just silently agreed or even gave into your idea, but he was stubborn and good at self sabotaging.

“You do care.” He pointed out, “If you didn’t you would’ve shut up at the beginning of this discussion and let me be in charge.”

And that was enough for your deep breaths and the counting method your therapist taught you to avoid outbursts to be forgotten.

“You know what Auston, no asked you to be in charge because they know you suck at it.” You’re voice rose with every word, “If you were good at being in charge you would have a winning team, but you don’t.” The venom in your words were no competition for the fury that filled your eyes, “The only reason you are relevant enough to even be sitting here is because Justin loves hockey. It’s not because you encouraged him to build the brand, or supported him every step of the way, or put in money for it to be successful.” You listed off what the others in the room, Justin’s friends and family, had done do ensure his success. “You’ve done nothing, but show up and ruin things, so you can sit down and shut up, because no one here cares about what you think.”

“Is that why you wrote a song about me.” Auston challenged, “because you don’t care about what I think?”

Your mouth went dry and your throat felt like it was beginning to close up. You swallowed thickly, refusing to let the tears that so badly wanted to come out make an appearance. This couldn’t be happening. Despite the release of your new single you told no one who it was about, now Auston just did that for you.

“That’s it. I’m done.” Your chair squeaked as you abruptly stood from it. “Auston, go fuck your self, Scooter, I quite.”

You stormed out of the room the door slamming behind you. The table fell silent following your exit, no one knowing what to say or do.”

“Go get her.” Scooter, Justin’s manager sighed rubbing his face.

“No, we don’t need her, especially if she doesn’t want to be here.” Auston sat back in his chair crossing his arms.

“She was one of the most important people sitting at this table. Scooter paused, “Go. Get. Her.”

“She’s a big girl, she made her choice. And now you want me to chase after her?”

“I don’t care if you have to get down on your knees and beg for her forgiveness, she better be sitting at this table tomorrow.” He finalized standing up himself, the discussion was over.

Auston didn’t follow you immediately, his pride too strong. He waited until the evening when he had no choice but to fix things. There was less than 12 hours until everyone would meet again.

He reluctantly drove to your apartment after getting the address and penthouse number from Hailey.

Auston tapped his hands on his legs waiting for the elevator to arrive at the top floor. He could think of a million things he would rather do than apologize to you, but his friendship meant more than his dislike toward you.

Following your show in Arizona, Auston made it his mission to push down any type of feelings he had for you. The two of you together would be complicated and that was something he couldn’t deal with, not at the start of the season.

Between the time he knocked on the door and you answering, he debated just leaving, but he didn’t have the time to do that once you answered. Auston couldn’t keep his eyes from wondering down your body at the short cotton shorts that hugged your hips and the cropped tank top that dipped down to show cleavage. His thoughts were only interrupted by your voice.

“Can I help you.”

“Ummm yeah,” he stammered forgetting what he had planned to say eyes still focused on the way you leaned against the doorway, one arm holding open the door as the other rested on your hip. “I wanted to apologize.”

“Apologize for what?” You showed no emotion, but didn’t miss the way he had yet to look you in the eyes.

“This afternoon.” Auston finally looked up meeting your eyes with his own. “Saying those things.”

“Yeah, that’s sounds really sincere.”

“Can you please just let me in so we can actually talk?” Auston huffed annoyed that you were holding your ground.

You rolled your eyes but stepped to the side to allow him in. You closed the door and walked past him to the couch in the center of the room. “Okay, start apologizing.”

Auston sighed sitting on the wooden coffee table across from the couch. “Listen, (y/n), I’m sorry for what I said. I was angry and,” he sighed again frustrated at the lack of words coming to mind, “and I’m just really sorry.”

“Wow, that was more pathetic than the first attempt.” You crossed your arms, “but I’m not surprised considering you never apologize for anything. This is probably a lot for you, trying to use words with more than one syllable.”

“You done?”

“No.” You shook your head sitting up straight. “It’s one thing for you to not like me, but embarrassing me like that when you know that song was vulnerable for me, was just mean.”

There was lots of gossip surrounding the song you revealed at your show. Later that night you released the recorded version and the next morning it was everywhere. The discussion about who it could be about was a hot topic, everyone wanted to know, but no one did. Even when your best friends asked who it was about you brushed it off saying it wasn’t about anyone specific it was just a concept you thought of.

“I wasn’t thinking.”

“You never think!” You shouted, “you just say things and do things without thinking about the consequences.”

“I apologized what else do you want from me?” Auston shouted back throwing his arms in the air.

“Nothing.” You stood up and stormed toward the door and holding it open. “Get the fuck out.”

“What the hell is your problem?”

“You. You’re my problem. Now leave.”

“Im not leaving until we figure this out.” Auston responded not looking at you and refusing to stand.

“You don’t get to decide when this conversation is over. You are apologizing to me.”

“Then fucking accept my apology if you want me to leave.”

“No. Your “apology” was terrible.” You put air quotes around the word apology allowing the door to close in the process.

“Then I’m not leaving.”

“Fine, then I’m calling security.” You announced attempting to make your way to the phone on the side table by the couch, but Auston blocked your path.

“Move.” You threatened trying to push past him, but Auston wouldn’t budge.

“Will you just…stop being so fucking difficult?” Auston held onto your arms to try and keep you in place.

“No.” You pulled your arms back with a surprising amount of strength, but Auston got to the phone before you could and threw it across the room.

“What the hell is your problem?” You reiterated his question from earlier.

“You. You’re my problem.” His voice came out strained.

Both of you stood chest to chest breathing heavily. Auston looked down at you, he wanted to walk away but he couldn’t. Watching you so worked up, breathless from arguing and cheeks red. You looked so pretty, and you were standing so close, and he was so turned on. So he didn’t think, he just acted as he leaned down, one hand placed on your neck and kissed you.

You wish you say your initial reaction was to pull away, but it wasn’t. You sank into the kiss like you had been waiting for years for it. Your fingers clasped together around his neck as his free hand found a home on your hip.

You kissed for a long time taking turns opening your mouths wider giving the other person more access, neither of you coming up for air. Auston sat down on the couch, pulling you down with him. You kissed down his neck as you straddled his waist. Auston’s hands rubbed up and down your back under your tank top as you continued working down his neck and back up nipping at his earlobe. He tugged lifting your tank top over your head and tossing it in the corner.

“Fuck.” He groaned noticing that you decided to not wear a bra with it leaving your bare chest in front of him. Auston dipped down to kiss the valley between your breast before taking one of your nipples in his mouth. You moaned at the attention he gave them.

“You drive me crazy.” You whined raking your fingers through his hair.

“The feelings mutual.” He mumbled coming up from your chest and planting a kiss on your lips. You only broke the kiss to remove his shirt and then your hands were back on his body as his lips were back on yours.

“Stand up.” Auston demanded nudging you his knee. You did as told and watched as Auston got down on his knees in front of you without breaking eye contact. He couldn’t help but chuckling thinking back to what Scooter said about getting on his knees to beg for forgiveness. Watching the way your legs clenched looking at him, Auston knew he would get on his knees for you whenever you wanted.

You knew this was all wrong. You hated him and he hated you, but watching him hook his fingers in your panties and sliding them down your legs, that was right.

Auston placed kisses along your inner thighs before he tapped your leg “separate them.”

You couldn’t help the loud moan that escaped your lips as Auston’s tongue met your clit. You latched your fingers back into his hair and attempted to steady yourself. Auston held you firm as he continued to lick and suck like he had been walking in the desert for days and you were his first sip of water.

Your legs only became weaker as you felt him slip two fingers inside of you. They pumped at a rapid pace and you began falling apart around them.

“Aus, I-“ you started but couldn’t finish as you moaned loudly. The combination of his tongue and his fingers had you closing your eyes and seeing stars as you came calling out his name.

“I know, baby, I got you.” He reassured picking you up in his arms. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you to the bedroom. Auston placed you down as he stood at the foot of the bed.

“You out on quite the performance earlier.” You watched as he reached for his belt. “Calling me a bad leader, screaming about how I’ve ruined things.” He slowly removed his belt and unzipped his pants. “And my favorite,” he smirked climbing onto the bed. “Telling me to sit down and shut up.”

Auston leaned back into the pillows and placed clasped his hands together behind his head.

“I’m going to do that now and I want you to suck my dick until I’m whimpering like you just were.” You couldn’t help the way your body reacted to that statement.

“C’mon baby, I know how much you love performing.” He smirked down at you as you crawled between his legs, “put on a show for me.”

You swirled your tongue around his tip before slowly taking more of him into your mouth. You hollowed your cheeks and went down on him until he was touching the back of your throat.

“Keep doing that.” He encouraged as you used your right hand to twist and stroke the part you couldn’t fit. You let your mouth and hand move in a rhythmic motion.

“Just like that.” Auston panted eyes shut tightly.

“Open your eyes.” You moved him out of your mouth to make the request. Auston continued to breathe deeply eyes still shut. “I won’t continue until you open them.” You threatened waiting for him to look down at you.

“Good.” You said satisfied as he looked down. You hummed around him taking him further down your throat. It wasn’t long until Auston was grinding his teeth together to keep himself from finishing.

“I want to be inside of you.” He said pushing gently on your shoulder to stop you. Auston flipped you over so he was back on top. After stroking himself a few times he aligned himself with you.

“Absolutely not.” You grabbed his wrist. “Put a condom on, I don’t know who you’ve stuck that in.”

Auston chuckled reaching into the bedside table, while kissing your neck “it feels better without it.” His breath was hot against your ear and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you rethink.

“I don’t care. I’m not catching something from you, that would make this whole situation even more embarrassing.”

“Oh, baby, there’s nothing embarrassing about how good I’m going to make you feel.” Auston slid the condom on like you asked before thrusting into you. You immediately wrapped your legs around his waist wanting him as deep as possible. Auston dipped down kissing you roughly as he worked his hips into yours.

You two moved in synch, like you’ve done this before. As his hips went down, yours went up to meet in the middle, hitting the perfect angle.

“Tell me you want me.” His request was so soft you almost didn’t hear it.

“I do.” You reassured him, knowing your mind was made up in the living room that this was what you wanted.

“No. I want to hear you say it.” His voice was strained as he rested his face in your neck.

“I want you, Auston.” Your words seemed to encourage him as he picked up the pace.

“You’ve had a funny way of showing you wanted me.”

“Says the guy who called me overrated.”

“Says the girl who called me selfish and arrogant.”

“Says the guy who made me cry and exposed to everyone that I wrote a song about him.

Auston stopped moving his hips for a moment and met your eyes seriously, “you cried?”

“Im sensitive.” You shrugged “Plus I got an awesome song out of it, which is doing really well on the charts. So, ya know….it worked out.”

“Look at me.” Auston grabbed your chin to bring your eyes back to him, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s whatever.” You brushed off the apology with a wave of your hand.

“No, (y/n),” There was something earnest in Auston’s eyes, a mixture of pleading but also reassurance “I’m, so sorry for hurting you like that.”

“I know.” You reassured him placing a hand on his cheek and brushing his hair out of his face gently. He may have been the one apologizing but you wanted to comfort him, reassure him that you truly forgave him, for all of it.

The moment felt intimate, romantic even and that was too much for Auston. It was one thing for him to fuck you, but a whole different thing if you thought it was anything more than that.

If there was one thing you agreed on it was that you both had very busy schedules and that you both were too selfish with your time to commit to something serious. The last thing either of you needed was love.

“Flip over.” He instructed

“Huh?” You looked up at him, and unlike the moment before Auston looked away.

“I want to take you from behind.” Auston watched as a look of hurt crossed your face, but it was only for a moment before you were doing as you were told.

Auston slipped himself into you again and began moving like before. He found the perfect pace again and had you screaming his name within minutes. He gave you a minute before he started back up. He wanted you to cum again. Partly because he wanted to make up for being such an asshole but a bigger part of him wanted to do it out of pride. He wanted you to think about this night when you were alone and touching yourself. And he definitely wanted you to think about it, if you tried being with another guy.

Watching you come undone a second time had Auston quickly following. You didn’t let him pull you back into his chest or hold you close before you were up and going to the bathroom.

“Don’t get too comfortable you definitely aren’t staying the night.” You tossed over your shoulder.

Right before closing the door is when you heard his response, “I didn’t plan on it.”

He made it clear that this was casual. You couldn’t lie to yourself and say that him making you turn around didn’t hurt, but you understood it. Returning from the bathroom, you watched as Auston redressed himself as you did the same.

You walked him back through the living room and to your door.

“We don’t tell anyone about this.”

“About what?” His look of fake confusion only lasted a moment before he was smiling and placing a quick kiss on your lips. “Don’t worry, no one will find out.”

“Goodnight Auston .”

“Goodnight, (y/n).”

#famous reader #hockey #maple leafs #nhl blurb #nhl #celebrity reader #toronto maple leafs #justin bieber #hockey imagine #drew house #auston matthews x reader #angst #smut

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austonwithan-o · 11 months

Text

“We’re parents? Like actually parents?”

No warnings really… pregnancy ig if that’s a trigger

You sat on the bathroom floor. The cold tiles sending chills throughout your body, the pregnancy test on the counter sat there. Your period was late. You hadn’t told Auston mostly because you just realized it that day but you also didn’t want to freak him out, he already had so much going on during off season. Training and planning for the season to start, it was a lot and the last thing you wanted to do was stress him out. You were shaking, praying for a good outcome but you didn’t know what a good outcome was. Auston and you always talked about getting married first before having kids. That’s just the way you were raised and how you pictured your future. Starting a family was one of your biggest dreams and you had expressed it many times with him but with his career and everything going on for him, he wanted to wait a few more years. On the other hand you wouldn’t mind having a mini you or a mini him running around playing floor hockey until you were confident enough to get them in skates, imagining Auston as a dad made your heart ache longingly for those days but you had no idea how Auston would react to it being so soon. You looked down at your phone. The 3 minute timer rang loudly in your ears and you slowly stood up. Grabbing the packaging you peeled the wrapper back revealing two pink lines. Your breath was caught in your throat. You felt nauseous and shaky. Quiet sobs left your mouth but you covered your mouth because you knew you wouldn’t be able to stop once the crying really started. Your mind started racing with every outcome, truthfully you were happy but god you were terrified what Auston would think. You put the pregnancy test back in the box and threw it in the trash grabbing a wad of toilet paper and throwing it in to cover it. Auston wasn’t too observant thankfully. You knew he’d never look in the trash can and it bought you some time to think about how you would break the news to him.

You washed your hands and wiped your eye’s making yourself look presentable. It was almost 5 and he’d be home from playing golf with Mitch and Willy. Walking out of the bathroom and making your way downstairs you saw Auston pull into the driveway. You watched as the three piled out of the car grabbing their gear out of the back, you sat at the bar scrolling through instagram trying to distract yourself. The front door opening letting the warm Arizona air drift in.

“Hey baby how did the golfing go?” You asked not looking up from your phone.

“Absolutely crushed these goons.” He said laughing. He walked over lightly grabbing the side of your face, planting a kiss to your temple grabbing a beer from the fridge. Your anxiety was through the roof at this point and he knew something was up.

“Man I don’t even care, I’ve won the last 3 games buddy I just let you win this time.” Mitch said throwing his hat on the dining room table. “Sauce me a beer will ya?” Everyone was gathered around the bar at this point chatting and talking about their game mostly making fun of each other laughing.

“Mitch no one likes a sore loser bud.” Willy said cracking the beer open taking a long sip.

“I’m not a sore loser I’m just saying I won the last 3 times. This one win doesn’t mean anything.” You couldn’t help but laugh at their childish banter.

“Baby you want a drink?” Auston asked grabbing a white claw from your side of the drink fridge.

“Oh I’m okay! I’m not thirsty.” You said giving him a small smile, finally looking at him he gave you a weird look putting the drink back in the fridge. He went on with his conversation with the boys who were completely oblivious to the slight tension between you two.

You got up from the bar area heading back up to your room. Auston’s eyes not leaving your figure walking up the marble stairs, you could feel his eyes burning into the back of your head. You laid in your bed with Felix staring at the ceiling, you were so exhausted you slowly drifted off to sleep.

You woke up to it being pitch dark outside and a warm spot from where Felix was laying beside you. You checked your phone and checked the time, 9:55pm, “holy shit y/n… 5 hours?” You rolled your eyes slightly annoyed with yourself for sleeping so long. You definitely weren’t getting any sleep tonight. You got up from the bed walking into the bathroom to brush your teeth and at least get ready for the night and the trash can was spilled onto the floor. Felix had a tendency to go through the trash can and you were mentally punching yourself for not shutting the door this morning. Horror filled your mind as you realized the pregnancy test was missing.

“Fucking hell Felix!” You whispered under your breath. You were certain Auston was probably taking a night swim or watching tv downstairs. All you had to do was find Felix and get the test before Auston could find it. You tiptoed downstairs and found him sitting on the couch watching TV. His back was facing towards you. Felix’s head perked up from the couch, Auston didn’t move and neither did you.

“You wanna talk about it?” His voice was raspy. You could tell he had been crying and your heart broke at the sound of it.

He finally turned around holding the test. His face showed no emotion. Slowly walking towards him the tears started streaming down your face again.

“Auston I didn’t mean to hide it from you I swear. I - I just needed time to process it, I was going to tell you I swear.” Your voice wash shaky and small, he lightly grabbed your wrists bring you down to his lap. His eyes were glossy and his lips curved into a slight smile.

“Y/n I love you with my whole entire being God I can’t even imagine my life without you. I know we weren’t planning this but I’m ready to be a dad if you’re ready to be a mom. I want to grow old with you, I want to raise a little family, teach our kids how to skate, how to play hockey.” He was crying and his words made you cry as well. His hands travelled from your hips to your tummy. His tattooed hand rested onto your tummy lightly rubbing it. Your cheeks were on fire. The feeling of everything was so surreal.

“Auston we’re gonna be parents now…like actual parents!” Tears still poured out of your eyes but a wide smile spread across your face. He placed a kiss on your forehead placing it against yours. “You know I kind of guessed it earlier.” A cocky grin was plastered on his tear stained face. You rolled your eyes.

“Oh yeah? How’s that?” You asked now playing with the chain around his neck.

“You refused a white claw for starters and I know when you start your period and it’s been a week since you usually start. I put two and two together and when Felix brought the test to me it just confirmed it.”

“I’m mildly impressed that you pieced that together.” He just laughed. Lifting your chin up and kissing you. He scanned your features. He was so lucky and he knew it.

———————

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hockeybabe · 1 year

Note

So I did recently ask for a Quinn fanfic. And you did amazing like always!!

Could I maybe get an Auston Matthews one with smut and angst? I’m not really picky on the story as long as it involves me going from tears, to jumping for joy, to smirking. THANK YOU BESTIE!!

Am I Yours?||𝘈. 𝘔𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘸𝘴

*gif not mine*

Pairings: Auston Matthews x gf!reader

Summary: Auston makes sure you know who you belong to after having doubts.

Warnings: smut, oral (f!receiving), handjob, penetration (p in v), dirty talk, angst with a smut ending, Auston being an asshole, slut shaming, morning sex, squirting.

Word count: 1.2k

Requested: yes

Note: The urge I had to just make this an angst story but this is the smuttiest thing I've ever written

Being in a fairly new relationship with Auston was nerve-racking. You weren't going to lie, but when Auston first posted you on Instagram for Valentine's fans reactions were mixed. Many people didn't like you; frankly; most people didn't like the fact that Auston was off the roster for single men.

Auston constantly tried to reassure you that everything was okay and that they were just fans who didn't know either of us. It got harder when you showed up to games, fans would find you and interrogate you, asking you questions like "When will you break up?" "Are you using him?" Or "You're just another whore who wants him."

Tonight the Leafs will play the Blackhawks and Auston was just getting back into playing after a three-week injury. You've told Auston the fans were becoming too much and that you wouldn't be attending them anymore and just stayed in your apartment and watched.

Auston wasn't thrilled with the idea, but also knew that the fans were getting the best of you. You had many doubts on whether on not you two being together was a good idea. Reluctantly, Auston agreed not without arguing first.

He left for the game angry and said "We'll talk about the when the games over." and walked out the door. The Leafs lost by two, and when Auston got home it was clear the tension in the air was thick.

"Auston?" You call from the couch in your family room, pausing the tv. "What do you want?" He glares, walking into the room. You feel yourself confidence shrinking with the tone in his voice. Auston always brings happy/uplifting spirits when he talks.

"Look I know you're upset-"

"Upset, I'm more than upset, I'm fucking livid!" He shouts, throwing his hat to the side. Flinching, you pull your knees up to your chest. "First you're worried about the fans! Then, its not wanting to go to my games! I need my fucking girlfriend!"

"And I need you to understand!" You scream, tears welding in your eyes. "You need to understand how fucking hard it is hear your fans tell me all the time how I'm not good enough or that I'm a slut and just using you for fame!" You shout, getting up from the couch, facing Auston.

Auston runs his hands through his hair grunting. "Well you know what they say, start believing what people say and you become it." He mutters, not looking at you. "Fuck you." You whisper out, sobbing. "Fuck you! How dare you slut shame me! You know what? You're sleeping on the fucking couch." You shout, wiping the fallen tears, stomping upstairs to bed.

While lying on yours and Auston's bed you hear bangs coming from downstairs. As time passes, sleep becomes. practically impossible without Auston. Rolling over, you lay on Auston's pillow, inhaling his scent for comfort, feeling yourself slowly drift off to sleep.

꧁꧂

Getting out of bed was the last thing you wanted to do; part of you expected to see Auston lying right beside you when you woke up, but he must've stayed downstairs like you told him to. Grabbing your phone off the nightstand, you open instagram to see Auston posted on his story.

Feeling your heart clench and warmth devouring your body, you walk down the stairs to see Auston sleeping on the couch with a blanket barely covering him. Your panties dampen at the thought of having make-up sex with him and probably wake him up to it.

Straddling Auston's torso, you place open mouthed kisses on his face down to his jaw, then neck; you gasp at the feeling of two hands gripping your waist and a grunt leaving Auston's throat.

"What are you doing?" He mumbles huskily against your lips. Lifting your head and looking down at Auston, you smile. "I saw the post." You start, trailing your finger down his chest. "I want you to show me how much I'm yours." You smirks down at him.

Auston growls and sits up in response burying his face into your neck sucking and kissing, tilting your head as you let him take over, but not completely. Dragging your hand down his chest to the waistband of his sweats, you put your hand in reaching for his cock.

"That what your want baby, you want me to take my pants off." He whispers into your ear, peeling off your t-shirt. "Yes." You breath out, Auston obeys, taking both his sweats and boxers off at the same time. Auston, Auston's cock springs out, pre-cum, already spewing out.

"By the looks of it, you seem ready for me." You giggle, wrapping your hand around the tip of his cock, spreading his cum around the tip. "Fuck baby." He moans out, leaning on his elbows, leaning his head back as you rub his shaft up and down while your other hand plays with his balls.

"Baby, I'm gonna-" Before Auston can finish he bursts into your hand, smiling at him; you bring your hand to your mouth, licking it clean. Amusement and lust flash in Auston's eyes as he changes positions for you to be on the bottom of the couch.

"I'm gonna show you how much you belong to me." He growls, shimming down your body, kissing around your hips, and pulling your panties off since you weren't wearing any pants. Auston kisses on the insides of both your thighs getting closer to you pussy.

Auston blows onto your sensitive bud, watching you shudder in his hold "Auston please," you beg, gripping onto his hair. "Please what baby?" He taunts, blowing once more. "Lick me." You shudder again. Auston does as told giving you one lick and another and another, until you're coming apart in his hands.

Gripping his hair tightly, your head falls back onto the cushions as your orgasm takes over your entire body while Auston continues to rub your clit. "Auston its too much," You try to warn him, every time you and Auston have sex, he makes it his job to make you squirt since he was the first to do so.

Your ragged breath and body start to shake uncontrollably, as you try to warn Auston you're stopped as juices fly out of your pussy soaking the couch underneath you and Auston. "Fuck, that was so fucking hot." He mutters, kissing his way up your stomach to your face. "Look at you, you're practically cock starved. You want my cock?" He mocks playing with the buds of your nipples.

“Y-yes.” You answer out of breath, grinding your naked body against Auston’s. Auston runs his cock up and down your swollen slit, entering with no warning. You gasp as he thrusts once again. Auston leans over your body, burying his head into your neck, whispering comforting words.

You can tell Auston's as close as you are as his thrusts get sloppier and rougher. "Auston I'm-" "I know baby, I know." He mumbles, as he then commands you to cum. Auston collapses right beside you, pulling you closer to his naked chest. You both have small talk as Auston cleans you up and takes you upstairs back to bed.

#auston matthews #auston matthews smut #auston matthews imagine #nhl #nhl smut #nhl imagine #hockey players #hockey #toronto maple leafs #toronto #toronto maple leafs smut #imagine #hockey imagine

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nylwnder · 1 year

Text

get what i want | william nylander

gif by leafsgm

a/n: i’m so sorry for taking years to post this, after promising it several times … but it’s finally here and it’s fucking filthy (because i love you all so much) so have fun and go insane mwah mwah!!!

warnings: SMUT!!!!!!!!!, plot? never heard of her, p in v, unprotected sex, overstimulation, fingering, oral (f! receiving), beard burn kink, thigh riding, chain kink, spit kink if you squint, possessive kink if you also squint, light mentions of crying during sex, lots of swearing.

word count: 3.8k

taglist: @11livpangburn , @savoies , @stars-canucks , @spine-buster , @melissasturges90 , @themotogirl , @thenhlhastakenovermylife , @allison-mchugh , @willianmylander , @boqvistsbabe , @bunting27

sitting on the bed after finishing your lunch, you grabbed your phone from the nightstand. you mindlessly scrolled on instagram for a bit, before returning any messages you had just as you heard the water from the shower turn off. he made his way out of the bathroom not too long after, and you couldn’t help but stare.

it should be forbidden truly, to be able to walk out with a towel losely hanging off of his hips. his perfectly sculpted chest in plain sight as his chains fidget with his every step. your eyes following the small droplets of water that trickle down his back, tracing every crevasse of his muscles.

he spoke and you unconsciously responded, until he turned around swiftly and the towel threatened to fall off completely, before he held it with his hand.

“hm?” he asks as you had to blink repeatedly before you could look up at him. “hmm?” you responded, not realizing the way you mimicked him. he smirked at you, “i said, it’s rude to stare.”

you scoff, “says you!” making will laugh.

“why don’t you go pick my suit while i finish up.” he says, seeing the smile creep up on your lips. it was something you quite enjoyed doing.

you hopped out of the bed, walking into the closet as will made his way back into the bathroom. you raked your fingers through all of them, analyzing all the ones he’s worn this past week. he had a good selection, two new ones even, but he wore the lilac set just last game and despite the way you were contemplating the thought of your boyfriend in it once again, you ended up chosing his green set.

holding it up, you grab the suit jacket and set the rest of it on the counter. opening it up gently, you slip it on for fun. as you moved around in front of the mirror you enjoyed the oversized look of it since you’ve been contemplating wether or not to buy a set for yourself. since you were wearing shorts, the ends of the suit covered them almost completely and showed as if you were wearing nothing but the jacket. you smiled, something to keep in mind as it’d be a fit you think your boyfriend would quite enjoy.

“having a little fashion show are we?” he mentions, fixing his hair as he walked up behind you. you began to take it off, “hm, just making sure it’ll look good all sprawled out on the bed when you’ve barely made it through the door.” he smiles, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear, “is that so? i thought you like it when i have a suit on?”

“yes. but, i think we can both agree that unravelling articles of clothing-” you begin, as you grab his hands and put them to your hips, his fingers naturally hooking onto the band of your shorts and panties, “-is entirely better.” your lips connect with will’s. you might have come across as needy, as you fingers tugged in his hair, but you didn’t care.

“mmm don’t tempt me” he mumbles as he breaks the link of your lips. you let out a little whine, “we have enough time” you mutter back. “there’s never enough time for you, love.” he says, lifting you and placing you on the bed.

laying down, he hovers over you. “i’m going to be late.” he mentions, as he pulls down what he agrees are in the way. “you’ll be fine.” you state as your fingers tug on his boxers. “you better be right”

you smile, as his lips attack your neck and his hands roam under your crew neck and all over your body. you let out an airy moan as his fingers find your nipples, but that’s before he pulled your sweater off as well, and his mouth latches on. your back arches as his hands roll down your sides, your hips and then to your ass. he squeezes before his hands find their home between your thighs. you’re shut up from a moan as willy kisses you while playing around with your wetness.

“always ready for me, aren’t you?”

you merely nod when his thumb begins to rub circles on your clit and two of his fingers slip through your entrance. “mmmm yeah” you moan.

your fingers continue to tug at his boxers, will letting you drag them down. you were very aware of his bulge, and when his cock slaps against his stomach you’re thankful you were able to convince him.

“is this what you were needy for? what you tease me for?” you look up at him, clenching around nothing but the void. “please will,” your hand raking down his v-line to give him some strokes “fuck me” you whine, getting up just a tad so you could pull him down by his chains with you. he kisses you as your legs habitually wrap around his waist letting his cock push in.

your eyes roll back, that’s exactly what you wanted. your fingers immediately find his still moist hair, willy taking no time but to find a brisk pace. “fuck yeah just like that” you plead, as you move with his every thrust. willy’s mouth finding home in your breasts once again, making his beard rub against your silky skin which only added on top of all the pleasure.

you couldn't stop clenching around him, and you knew you were breaking him by the second. so willy finds your clit, and he’s ruthless with his fingers. you bite your lip to mask your moans, even nipping on his shoulders. “cum for me, love. oh god i fucking love it when you clench around me”

whimpering as the coil snaps in your belly you kick his lower back to go impossibly deeper into you. he lightly snickers, before his cock twitches and he kisses your cheek as he rides both of your highs out. “yeah that’s my good girl” he whispers, grabbing your hips and continuing to thrust into you.

your head is turned to the side, your eyes closed, as you feel like his pace never softens. your hands reach out to grip his forearms as your moans don’t stop and you can feel the beginning of your second orgasm rushing in. that’s until he stops all at once, and you can’t help but cry out at the emptiness. you take a deep breath as you catch his teasing. “mmm later, älskling.” well, of course.

kneeling up just like him you kiss him and nip at his lip. “hey google, what time is it?” you ask your home device. hearing her response you smirk at willy, “hmm i stand corrected.” he merely slaps your ass before he gets up, cleans himself and gets ready. you laid down on your tummy, not bothering to put your clothes back on just yet.

when will comes out, he bites his lip and groans just the softest bit as you stare innocently back at him. not forgetting to flutter your lashes. “you’re in for it later” he warns.

you felt your cunt throb at his tone.

—

you sat on your couch, blanket in hand, as you saw the last few minutes of the game pass on the clock. “and the leafs go home tonight with their third win of the week” the broadcasters say as the boys crowd to head pat sammy. you smile as you watch your boyfriend hug jt and the other boys. they managed to pull through with another win despite a pretty persistent game. the credit goes to not only ilya but also to the game winning goal scorer: william. the same man who you’ll be waiting to come through your door once again, so you can show him just how proud — and worked up — you are.

you waited around watching the post game coverage, fidgeting in your sweatpants. closer to the time you know william would be in his car, you decided to get up and strip yourself from the sweats. you figured you’d save him the time. so you sat back down on the couch, with a crewneck of willy’s and just your baby pink panties underneath.

just as you draped the blanket on your lap, willy unlocks the door. walking in while taking off his coat and shoes, his eyes find yours. he sees how dark they are, but you didn’t budge. he walked up to the back of the couch, letting your head fall back so he could lean down and kiss you. he was quick to pull you close, turning you around so you were kneeling and facing him, reaching for his kisses once again.

letting your fingers run through his hair, he looked down and saw the thin pink fabric. “mmm nice to see you too baby” he says, lips forming into a smile. “you took too long” you whined at him, as you felt everything to be dreadfully longer than usual.

he snickered, his hands running down to rest on the small of your back. you desperately kissed him again, not knowing how much longer you could wait till he could pin you down on your bed and make you cry. “oh what a needy girl you are”

you smiled, as he gripped your ass and pulled you up and off of the couch. he carried you to the bedroom, your kisses never leaving his warm skin. throwing you down on the bed, he bites his lip at the site — resulting in you letting out a cheeky giggle. he follows quickly after tossing away his suit jacket, choosing to take off your sweater at the same time. his lips trail over you some more, leaving wet kisses on the curves of your breasts before going down and kissing your stomach.

you shiver when his mouth gives you small pecks on your thighs before he lays another on your clothed cunt. you can’t hold back a moan even at the barely present touch. he looks up at you smirking at your squirmy state. “got you all worked up from my goal, didn’t i?” he states more so than asks, taking his sweet sweet time to discard your wet panties. you're practically rolling your eyes.

“well i’ve been thinking about you all evening. how i left your tight pussy dripping wet. figured i’d give you what you wanted so bad earlier.” you whimpered. “a good girl should get what she deserves, don’t you think?” his voice grew lower as he looked up at you, your pussy throbbed again. “yeah-yeah she should.” he hums.

“the real question is whether she can actually take it?” he threatens, as his fingers graze your cunt and he quickly nips on your buds. fuck you’re screwed you thought. making his way down he hauls your hips with him. he gave one bold swipe from your already dripping hole to your clit and you let out a small gasp.

his tongue moved quickly, flicking softly at your clit until rotating to lap at your entrance as he groaned at the taste of you. his nose bumping perfectly into your clit, he was feasting like it was his last meal on earth.

your body was squirming, your hips trying to grind on his mouth if you weren't attempting to close your thighs around willy’s head. that made his beard scrape against your inner thighs even more, making pleasure curl throughout your body.

he knew, will always knew. so he purposely moved his face side to side, painting red patches on your velvety skin. the two different feelings numbed your mind. you pressed your head back into the pillow as your free hand reached to grip his hair aggressively. moans spilled into the room and you pushed him closer into you as you chased your orgasm. “mmm—don’t stop—fuck will”

willy’s cock throbbed against his dress pants as he saw your back arching from the bed and felt your nails digging into his scalp. he groaned into you again and the vibrations sent you spiralling while his teeth teased your bundle of nerves. he sucked hard on it and you cried out his name.

when his three fingers slipped inside, no problem, the coil snapped and your wetness soaked his hand and mouth. he cleaned you up, lapping at the most unholiest drink. his beard rubbed against your pussy and you whimpered at the sensitivity. he did it again before he kissed your clit and connected his damp lips with yours.

you moaned at the taste of yourself, and willy smirked. “delicious, no? fuck i can eat you out for days, princess.”

you sat up and grabbed his neck to pull him in for another kiss. you needed something to ground you and you didn’t know what else to do other than kiss him until both of your lips were puffy and pink. willy gripped your ass and pulled you close to him, he was still dressed and you didn’t think that was right.

your soft hands unhooked the last few buttons on his shirt, he had the first three open anyways. willy slipped it off as you rubbed your hands against his chest, down his stomach and traced his v-line like he loves. your fingers targeted his zipper next, “take it off” you mumbled. he smirked in response, getting off of the bed he dragged his pants down and threw them in the direction of his jacket. he walked back to the bed but you dragged down his boxers before he could get back on, “this especially.”

his cock was shiny, precum lacing the pink tip. you licked your lips, his dark eyes steady on you. he had the whole night planned out already, and you could only picture how you would already feel after the first round.

he sat down beside you, grabbing the back of your neck and pulling you into his open lips. as you leaned in, your leg draped over one of his legs before william folds it upwards. you gasped, feeling how the stern muscles of his thick thighs pushed right under your wet cunt. “you like that?”

what a stupid question you thought. as if he doesn’t see just how much you stare — in sweats, in dress pants, in jeans, so be it. you thought about them a rotting amount of times everyday. and oh how you’d be lying if you didn’t physically ache over how much you wanted to be writhing on top of them.

you scoffed at him. “can i?” you ask softly, nipping at the inside of your lip as you look at him with your needy eyes. he smiled as he grabbed your hips and started a steady rhythm for you.

your hands found his shoulders as you rocked back and forth. willy gave you kisses on your collarbone, “that’s it, keep going” he was eating up your little moans and whines as you glistened his thigh. nipping down on your soft skin, he flexed his leg. “oh fuck” you yelped as your head fell back at the action.

“eyes on me, darling” he demanded, and you did so. looking at him as he flexed again and your lips fell open. “come on baby girl, soak these thighs” you pull his head into your chest at his words. gripping a handful of his hair as you moaned and twitched. he flexed again, and god forbid if his thumb so happened to rub a circle on your clit. but it did, and he didn’t have to do many before you were chanting his name.

keeping his thigh nicely pushed up against you, he guided you as your juices dripped down his leg. he groaned at the sight, and how you didn’t stop cumming, and how it began falling on the bed sheets. “what a fucking good girl.” he moaned out, seeing how flushed your face got with the lazy last rolls of your hips.

you stopped at the tremble in your own thighs, your head falling on his shoulder and kissing the crook of his neck. your hands found his upright cock and stroked him. he grunted in your ear, feeling how it twitched in your snug grip.

you kissed once again, your forehead against willy’s. “i need you. inside of me” you mumbled into his lips. “please baby”

“my pleasure” he states as he rolls you over. as you get on all fours willy kisses your shoulder, “gonna be my pretty little slut, are you?” he whispers in your ear.

“always am.” you shoot back and will snickers.

he guided himself to you, purposely avoiding your entrance as he teased. sliding his tip to your clit then back down your slit before he slides in seamlessly. a loud throaty moan threatening to escape at how stretched you felt. how you always felt.

he pumped in and it of you devilishly long and slow. as he dragged out every thrust, he would fully exit before retentering. you were dying at the inconsistency of his pace. “faster willy, please.” you begged, “i can’t take it much longer”

he had a smirk plastered on his smug face. he was fucking with you, oh indeed. but it was your choice: either be teased and edged the whole night or well…

he pushes you down, pinning you hard, as he buries his cock in you once again. he pushed down on your lower back as he felt like he could enter not only way deeper than before, but more predominantly. and you expected it.

he thrusted in you at a more familiar pace before he increased it more and more. your face found home in a pillow you had dragged down to you from above. gnawing on it, your moans were still hard to muffle.

the sound of skin slapping skin had your eyes rolling, as his hands sternly gripped your hips into his own. willy could be found groaning as well, even nipping his own lip to try his best to outlast you. but it was hard as you clenched around him every time he was balls deep.

though he easily kept an angle that made you repeatedly chant things like “fuck fuck fuck fuck ugh fuuuck” and he hit it visiously.

“feels so good willy so fucking good”

“i know baby girl. let go for me” he mumbles against your shoulder, placing wet kisses and nibbles.

and so you did, again. feeling the rush of pleasure consume you as willy hushes your whines and moans by pulling you up to him. resting on his chest, your head lolled to the side he held you close as your high faded away.

his hand moved from your neck and gently made its way down your curves. his fingers found your soaking pussy and he groaned at the feeling of his fingers playing with all the gathered juices.

you turned to lay on your back and willy followed. but you knew he hadn’t cummed yet and the look in his eyes told you enough. he kissed your neck, “do you think you can take another hm? wanted it so bad earlier” he teased, though he kept a more gentler tone as he understood your overstimulated state.

you looked at him, playing with his hair. despite knowing just how sensitive you’ll be in a moment, fuck was this so hot. “you know i’ll always be ready for you. this is your perfect little tight pussy. it’s yours willy all fucking yours”

“that’s it princess, it’s all mine.” he says with a smile, taking his cock and thrusting right in. he lifted your hips high in the air as he started at a firm pace once again. he hit that faultless spot deep inside in less than a second. you couldn’t help but scream out a series of expletives, as the oh too familiar haze felt like you were starting to lose all possible control.

he spat on your clit, which was exhibited for his full disposal. using his thumb to push harsh circles. your lip was on the verge of extracting drops of crimson red with the way you were biting down on it. willy continued mumbling things to you but you were in no capability of hearing, understanding or responding to any of it. he was impelling you to the verge of your fourth orgasm in just the bit of time of his return. all you could do was scream.

you ate at the blazing pleasure from both his vigorous hands and his thick cock, giving into it as you gripped willy as hard as you possibly could. william could feel himself twitching at the way your saturated pussy clamped around him. it felt so cruel as his cock ached of its own release.

will’s thrusts never stopped after your high, as he dropped your hips from his high grip. he kept his hands under your knees, widening your thighs far apart. you felt the burn in your eyes as willy wiped your cheek. “i’m so proud of you, baby. taking me so fucking good like the cockslut you are. you can do it, just another for me, princess.”

“y-yeah, yes, ye” you whined out, fuck you didn’t even know what you were saying. he was pounding into you, your boobs jumping with every move of his. so did his chains, in which you gripped, yanking as willy followed down with them. you wanted a kiss, letting willy taste your warm and salty tears. when he moved upwards, your hands kept at the cold metal around his neck.

willy’s deep grunts infatuated you. a bruise would most likely be found on your hips and thighs as he kept you as wide open as you could for him. his hips began to stutter, as your sensitivity only got worse. your thundering heartbeat in your ear and the fire in your lower stomach making the world around you a blur. your chest heaved and drips of sweat fell from willy’s chest. “cum-gonna-cum fuck yeah so fucking close- shit” you moaned out, “come willy, come for me”

“mm baby i can’t help with that fluttering cunt of yours”

with one last twitch, and one last sloppy thrust, you cry out again, now at the feeling of his warm seed coating you. as he pulled out, your conjoined cum dripped out of your pink pussy. willy bit his lip before he decided to dive down and lap you clean. you winced at his flat tongue, gripping the sheets for dear life. “jesus christ william”

he came back up as he kissed your cunt before kissing up towards your mouth again. “you’re so perfect. love how you can take what you tease for all the time” he says in your ear as he moves to the side, letting you follow him to rest on his chest. you smile,

“i get what i want.”

[ join my taglist if you enjoyed reading! : click here <3 ]

#william nylander #william nylander fic #william nylander imagine #william nylander x reader #william nylander smut #toronto maple leafs #toronto maple leafs fic #toronto maple leafs imagine #toronto maple leafs x reader #toronto maple leafs smut #nhl fic #nhl writing #nhl imagine #nhl smut #hockey fic #hockey writing #hockey imagine #hockey smut

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leafs-lover · 8 months

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Too Far Gone - The Tattoo

A/N: I have the couple blurb requests and they should be out tomorrow, but I came across this piece I started a while ago and decided to finish. If you are reading the fic - consider this a bonus chapter (set after the yet to be released part 55), if not, don’t worry, this can be a stand alone piece. It doesn't have any plot, just pure smut.

Warnings: Smut (fingering, p in v, creampie), dirty talk, swearing, a slight dom/sub dynamic, not really edited

Series masterlist

Word Count: 1300

It’s almost midnight when Auston finally returns home after a long road trip, and he finds something he did not expect.

He stops in the doorway, noticing the bedside lamps are still on, casting macabre shadows up the wall behind her. His eyes narrow as they land on her wearing a tight navy-blue crop top, the material barely sufficient to cover the swell of her breasts poking out from underneath where it’s purposely pushed up. Her hair is up in a high pony, and she sits with knees bent, backs of her thighs on her heels.

“Hi baby.” Tia says so innocently. They both know this is nothing but.

“You’re awake.” The bag lands with a loud thud and Auston sweater quickly joins her pants on the floor, wrinkled and forgotten.

“I missed you.”

Tia spreads her legs opens a little bit more, putting her pussy on display for him. The warm glow from the bedside lamp hits her pussy lips, and her slick shines back perfectly for him. It’s at that moment Auston notices the bullet vibrator tossed on the duvet a few inches away and smiles, “missed you too.”

The bed dips as Auston crawls on the mattress until he is right in front of her, then puts one hand on her thigh, smirking as Tia continues to knead at her breast. Auston’s cock throbs as he watches and listens to the soft moans caught in her throat. He slowly draws his fingers along her pussy lips, coating them in the slick, then sinks two in, reveling in the sharp gasp that breaks through.

“Just like that.” Auston encourages her once he feels her hips roll and grind over his digits, all while her shirt gets tossed aside. “Keep going,” Auston repeats, gripping her hip to encourage the movements. Tia continues to tug at her nipples, rolling them through her fingers, doing all the things she spent the last week wishing Auston would do. Her breathes are heavy and sporadic, walls are tingling as she builds up to her second orgasm.

“Auston.” She stills her body and forces her eyes open. Her body aches in anticipation and even with his fingers buried, she still craves his touch, and finds herself wishing she’d never have to be without it again. “Fuck me please?”

It wasn’t going to take much once he saw her, but the desperation in her words makes him eager to please. He pulls his fingers out and kicks his trackpants down his thick thighs, cock already rock hard. He grabs at his cock and puts his other hand on her shoulder, preparing to lay her down.

“No.” Tia demands. She flips over and leans on her elbows and brings her ass up, then eyes to him over her shoulder. “Like this.”

Auston doesn’t dislike this position, he loves it. It comes with a perfect view and he can hit spots even deeper than usual. Tia tends to get off faster and harder than when he’s on top, and those sounds he has coming both sets of lips are unlike anything he’s ever heard. He loves everything about this position, except he can’t watch. And as much a he loves to find the spot that makes her squirm, the spot that has on occasion made her squirt all over his cock, the spot that makes her scream, he hates not being able to see it. That’s why he prefers this position in the bathroom, bent over the vanity as she looks at him through the mirror, but he hasn’t seen her in almost a week and the throb in his cock overpowers every desire.

They both groan in unison when Auston buries himself inside, then curse when he pulls out almost completely and pushes back in. He grabs at her hip and sets a fast and deep pace, the bed creaking with every thrust.

“Fuck. Yes.” Tia moans, only encouraging him to not stop until her ass is against his stomach, every millimetre of him buried in her walls. “Right there.” She grabs handfuls of the duvet and arches her back further, smudging her face against the white fabric.

“This what you wanted?” He punctuates with a firm thrust against her g-spot, then grins when she lets out a muffled scream.

He stops for a second and grabs the vibrator, and with his other hand he clenches her pony and yanks, pulling her back against his chest. The hum of her toy starts, but he doesn’t get a chance to press it to her swollen bud, something catches his eye. A simple tattoo. It’s small and tucked right behind her ear, if her hair was down, he wouldn’t even know it’s there.

Auston completely stops and gently soothes his thumb over the number 34, lined in black and filled with white ink. “When’d you get that?”

Heat floods her cheeks. It was an impulse decision, one that came after too many drinks at girls’ night. Tia doesn’t even remember suggesting it or why nobody said no, but Abby stayed behind to watch the kids while Tia, Emily and Becks ventured out the only parlour open at 11pm. When she saw it the next morning she had some regret, not because she dislikes it but because she was worried what Auston may think, branding herself with his number. She considered hiding it, and casually bringing up the idea to gauge his opinion, but at the last second decided it would be best to just rip the bandaid off.

“The day after you left.” She takes a deep breath, not because she is nervous but because dating an athlete often reveals how poor her cardio is. “What do you think?”

“I like it.” Auston quickly tells her, rubbing his thumb over the ink again.

“Really?” She starts. “You don’t think it makes me seem like a desperate fangirl, getting your number on me?”

“Not in the slightest.” He speaks softly, gently kissing her neck while avoiding the tattoo in case its still sensitive. “It’s hot.” He presses the vibrator to her swollen bud and continues gently pressing his lips to her neck. “I love it.”

Tia moans as he increases the speed and presses it harder against her clit. She gasps when he moves his hips, once again thrusting deep and hard. Her breasts bounce and her skin tingles from the lingering touch of his lips.

“Yeah?

“Yeah, you should wear your hair like that all the time.” Auston grunts deeply amid a rough thrust. “Make sure everyone knows that your mine.” Her tight walls start to pulsate around his cock. “That I get to fuck this pussy every night, fill you with my hot cum.” Her breathing has been replaced with whines and her legs are trembling so hard her ass shakes. “That’s what you want, right?” Auston thrusts so hard her vision floods with tears. “Isn’t it T?” The vibrator and his cock are perfectly in tune with each other, and she is practically rendered speechless, but manages a choked out ‘yes.’

“Then cum baby.” Auston demands. “Cum so I can fill you up. I know you want me to.”

It’s almost condescending the way he speaks, but Tia doesn’t mind - she knew what she was doing while preparing herself ready for his return. Auston continues to drive against her g-spot, her hungry walls greedily sucking him in until she reaches her peak. His other arm wraps around her shoulders and the two of them simultaneously erupt. The sound of the vibrator is drowned by her squeal as his sticky cum fills her pussy and she spills around his cock.

“Should greet me like that all the time.” Auston turns the vibrator off and drops it on the bed, continuing to pant heavily against her shoulder.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

@youtxbemusic @nicoleloveshockey @emsully2002 @hockeypuckspottspot @ashleymarine @albal321 @b34ut1fulb4st4rds @biznastysloneshift12 @burkylover @c-tangerine @canadian-girl87 @crazzyfann @dana-hqy @delighttfulll @evawest5 @every-beautifulthing-thereis @greendragonzz @heatherawoowoo @hockeybabe87 @hockeyinaussie @hockeyisit @hockeypuckedmeup @je-ne-regrette-rien @jakekisska @partypoison00 @princesscameston @puccbunni @queenmarvel21 @sixmapleleafs @starswin @trashforbarzal @0kikina0 @1-fuzzy-squirrels @janeydeaux @stuff4me2do @callsign-denmark @monnbc @simpgirl-lat @huneyjojo221 @idfan21 @elly-dx @samanthasgone @holyalfalfasprout @lwstuff @mattyzmarner @ashloveshockey

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hockeysnapsgalore · 1 month

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Kinda getting into Knies🥵🥵

#hockeysnapsgalore #hockey #hockey snaps #hockey smut #matthew knies #matthew knies smut #toronto maple leafs #toronto maple leafs smut #snapchat #smut snaps

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sweettomyhoney · 4 months

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hear me out, we need more fanfics where the nhl player is the "loser" like make him be less famous and less successful than the y/n make y/n like internationally famous

NOW THISSSS 😩💕 let’s keep it real if we did not like hockey we would not know who any of these men are. Most celebrities don’t even know who these men are.

#hockey #nhl #jack hughes #toronto maple leafs #quinn hughes #hockey tea #black nhl imagines #nhl imagines #quinn hughes imagine #luke hughes #my asks #auston matthews x reader #auston matthews imagines #auston matthews #mitch marner #nhl fic #nhl smut

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angelwithdemonictendencies · 2 months

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there's dirt on my face from when they buried me alive; i'll show you how to kiss, teach me how to breathe through these soil-laden lungs.

jw60 x reader: what happens at the renaissance faire does (not) stay at the renaissance faire.

(warnings: blasphemous filth (it's honestly not bad), unprotected penetrative sex (m on f), idk a little hair pulling, nothing too crazy (be proud of me!), but you should be warned about the insanity that is me writing slow burn. i know i'm forgetting a lot but all my usual suspects. (please be warned, don’t read if you’re not 100% sure.)

(a/n: well, favorites, did someone say longest story yet? no, size doesn't matter, but this is getting out of hand. we're over 15k, now. next time i'm just gonna hand you a novel. happy valentine's day from the writer that loves you the most. where to begin? no, i don't know anything about faire culture or even that much about theatre, but i hope you like this anyways, because i absolutely loved writing it. i guess goalies are for the heartbreakers (and jw60 is for people who have been demonized because they're hot). this is for those of us with a little bit of a reputation, a little bit of a history. you deserve someone who thinks you look like a princess when your tits are falling out of your corset. yeah, the pacing's probably a bit off, and i got carried away with his big doe-eyes, but shh! don't tell anyone. oh, and you guys can pry bad kisser jw60 from my cold, dead hands. you know how i used to say i hope you watch the canucks and think, wow, qh43 definitely wants something that's just his? i hope you watch the leafs (when jw60 comes back) and think, wow, sweetheart doesn't know how to kiss! and with that stiff upper neck, too, poor baby! of course, please tell me what you think, because i love it when you do. what else? thank you a million times for all the love. try to spot the baby leafs in the supporting cast. and i'm about halfway done with frat!jh86 (it's fun, you'll love it). thank you for being patient with me. go canucks. until next time, all my love).

the corset was making it really, really hard to breathe. you swore, tonight, when you finally unbound yourself, there would be indentations of the small brass eyelets in your spine, perhaps that your back would slink and melt into the ground, having grown accustomed to the relentless support of the tightly-tied ribbon.

"i don't want to hear it," jenny, your best friend, said, holding a hand up to silence you before you even spoke. "you look unreal. you'll thank me for this, babe, i swear it."

you shook your head at her. "i just don't get why i have to dress like a medieval prostitute," you mused, gesturing to yourself, then her, "and you get be, uh, whatever that is."

jenny threw a hairbrush at you, which you dodged. "i'm a jester. you know this. you know how important this is to me."

you sighed, because you did. jenny had been a regular at the old renaissance faire every summer since she was little. you were about to be seniors in university, but this summer, jenny had insisted that you join her, some kind of last hurrah before you began to walk an intertwined path for what would likely be the last time.

and as much as you didn't really have any interest in jousting, or feudal society, or turkey legs, or whatever it was that people did at these things, you loved jenny enough to be grateful that she wanted to share her special place with you.

you didn't ask why she insisted on being a court jester ever year. maybe that was just her true form.

you walked over to where she sat in front of her mirror, put your hands on her shoulders. "and you're the hottest jester i've ever seen," you said, kissing her on the top of the head. "but i still can't breathe in this."

"that's the point," jenny replied, waving you off.

you had wanted to design your own costume, as costume design was quite literally your passion. you'd designed for every school play and musical since freshman year, wanted to pursue it further after college.

jenny had seemed so excited, though, and it was her day, so you let her take the reigns. the way this get-up fit you, though, the revealing upper-thigh slit, the abundance of cleavage you were sporting, the draping lacey skirts, it all had you hoping this specific faire had a strict no-men policy. you could practically already feel the weight of slimy stares on your exposed leg, the top of your chest. not to mention your face, but that was a bit of a constant, not just today.

you finished your hair and makeup, perfected the wench/heroine/damsel look. you knew yourself to be capable of all but shapeshifting, with your design and artistic abilities, but this old-timey seductress look was a spectacle, that was for sure.

jenny squealed when she saw the finished look. you cracked a smile at her ensemble, a straight-up court jester, down to the bells on her pointed hat, the face paint that matched the color scheme of her costume. "you look great," you told her.

"it's about letting my inner jest shine through," she said, "and that's why i dressed you up. so you have enough sex appeal for the two of us."

you were going to ask why there needed to be any sex appeal at all, but when you finally arrived at the sight of the faire, it became clear that that was simply part of the show.

you weren't even out of place in your revealing get-up, among all of the corsets and pants that looked like tights, not at all, although you had to give jenny credit. out of the many wenches and princesses and knights and pirates and such, your costume was especially lovely.

jenny linked her arm with yours as you passed under the tented entrance. it smelled like charcoal smoke and sugar, like wet leaves and musk.

"welcome to paradise," jenny said, a bright, genuine smile on her round face.

you couldn't help but smile, too. smile at this almost-hilarious display of the modern obsession with the past, of the unrelenting pursuit of entertainment, of the shared desire to be someone, somewhere, sometime else. this faire was just human, in a way that could be sort of somber, but in a way that you read as beautiful.

"where to first?" you asked your friend.

for hours, you let her lead you from place to place, from memory to memory.

"this is where my cousin, brett, bought his crush a leather-bound notebook," jenny said, while you perused a leather goods stand. she winced. "think she had a boyfriend, though."

you took pictures of her with different characters, let her take pictures of you with them, after. you smiled, big and cheesy, next to guys on stilts, jugglers, acrobats.

"you're gonna love this one," jenny said, pulling you into a barn that sold soaps and other handmade goods. you held a candle to your nose, inhaled, closed your eyes at the subtle combination of pine and something slightly floral.

you held it out to your friend. "try this one," you offered, picking up another one to test. you left the barn with two new candles and a hand soap for your apartment at school.

"we have to avoid archery," jenny whispered to you from behind a hand as you waited in line for giant pickles.

"why?" you asked, tilting your head at her serious expression.

"pretty sure my high school ex still runs it," she said, "and not the fun one."

you successfully avoided her ex, tried mead (honestly, how did people ever drink that), had your fortune told.

"my mom used to be the fortune teller at her local faire," jenny told you, a wistful sort of look in her eyes. "it's how she met my dad."

your heart flipped. you were a sucker for a meet-cute. "really?" you asked, "how romantic, jen. we have to do it."

jenny went first, the bell on her hat jingling with each movement. she walked away with a vague promise of new opportunities ahead and a new light to step into.

you smiled when she relayed this information to you, grabbed her hands excitedly. "a new light?" you said, "like a center-stage light? like a lead role?"

jenny's eyes widened. you'd met her freshman year in the theatre department, you a bit of a loner with a knack for a sewing machine and her a talkative actress with a beautiful singing voice.

still, after three years of productions, jenny had never had a lead role. she had a affinity for playing the side kick, the best friend, the assistant, the villain's love interest.

but no one had seen what she was capable of more than you, and you knew this year would be the year. you couldn't wait to watch her give the last bow on opening night, with you clapping from the wings.

now, jenny grinned at you. "this is the year, babe," she agreed. "now you!"

she gave you a gentle push towards the booth. the woman running it was probably somewhere between fifty and sixty. she had the face of a person who took advantage of sunny days, of someone who didn't deny herself simple pleasures, who had spent years laughing.

you felt at ease with her when she took your hand, ran her fingers along the ridges of your palm.

"rough hands, girly," she said, shooting you a lighthearted wink. "you workin' too hard, eh?"

you smiled. "just hard enough, ma'am," you told her, to which she patted your hand lightly in approval.

"you'll keep working," she told you, "but you'll find some new fun, too. sooner than you think."

you thanked her, bid her a good day. you never were one to put much stock into this kind of thing, but you'd take a little more fun any day.

when you told jenny what your fortune had been, she bumped her hip against yours. "hopefully that means a new guy," she mused.

you rolled your eyes. "don't need a guy for fun, do i?"

"'course not," she said, waving you off. "just know you, babe."

"you make it sound like i'm some depraved witch," you teased.

she laughed, pulled you by the arm to the big tent in the center of the faire. "c'mon," she said, "it's time for the joust!"

the joust was the main event of the day, you had known this coming in. it was fun, a spectacle of men on horses. you found yourself fascinated with the way they had dressed the horses up, the funny way all the actors were talking, so distracting that you barely noticed when the joust actually happened.

you still applauded and whistled along with jenny, listened to her tell a story about one joust in which the horse ran in the opposite direction, right out of the tent. you were holding your stomach in gentle laughter as you made to finish your day off at the tavern.

the sky began to melt from a blue to a burnt orange, the air hazy with heat. you could feel a day of standing in your thighs, a day of heeled boots in your calves. the makeup on your face had stayed put, but you could feel the weight of it like a halloween mask. your hair pulled at your scalp, a bit.

"hey, thanks for being such a good sport about this," jenny said as she brought you back a massive jug of beer, setting it down on the table with her own.

"what?" you said, scrunching up your face. "this is awesome, jen. thank you for inviting me."

she rolled her eyes at you, but her smile was obviously pleased. "i know it's corny, and kinda weird, but it's, i don't know." she trailed off, a misty sort of look in her eye.

you took her hand from across the table. you got what she meant. with senior year about to start, everything had a new, foreign sort of gravity to it, like it might never happen again. like you might miss it, if you didn't breathe all of it in. "i get it," you told her. "and where else am i gonna get to dress like this?"

she grinned at you as you took a sip from your jug.

"little jenny jester? is that you?"

you both turned to see an old, old man in magician's robes. jenny squealed. "magic jarod!" she said, before turning to you. "be right back," she whispered, "family friend."

"go 'head," you said, waving her on. you watched her approach the man, give him a big hug. you smiled. it was pretty cool, to know people at an event like this. to have people know you.

you sipped on your beer, quickly realized there was no way you were going to finish it. to pass the time, you people-watched, tried to guess people's relations to each other. you admired people's costumes, made mental notes of unique beading patterns or interesting pleats.

at some point, you were torn from your lulled observance by a polite cough. "is this, uh, where the plus-ones hang out?"

you turned your head to the side slightly to see the owner of that deep, pleasant voice. if you were the type to wolf-whistle, this would have been the time to do it.

something thrummed in your chest as you took in the man who stood in front of you, now. maybe it was the height, maybe the lean, working sort of bulk, maybe the soft-looking, just long enough hair. maybe it was the impossibly blue eyes that you could see even in the dim light of the tavern at dusk. maybe it was the careful, straight posture, the high cheekbones, cut jaw.

or maybe it was the fact that he was dressed in some sort of homemade prince outfit, a loose cream blouse, dark trousers, a dainty tiara-like crown atop his head.

he shifted back on his heels ever-so-slightly under your gaze, like it was something tangible, something that meant something.

in the misty, warm lighting of these low ceilings, among the dirty tables and scent of beer, he appeared deliciously out of place, like some fabled savior, some ancient temptation disguised as an angel.

you gave him a small smile, leaning into the table, just a bit. "did you also come with a jester?" you asked, teasing.

his mouth quirked, a beautiful flush blooming across his cheeks at the sound of your voice. he gave a shake of his head that shook the longer curls around his ears. "'m with the knight," he said, nodding to the person who was currently talking to a woman dressed as a pirate, who appeared very confused. to be fair, the person she was talking to was in full armor.

you gestured to the open spot across the table from you. "keep my friend's spot warm until she gets back?"

he stepped closer until he was just across from you. until you could see how long his lashes were, how big his eyes were, doe-like and boyish. how, ever since you'd first made eye contact with him, his gaze hadn't dipped to your chest even once. which was a feat, even jenny had gotten distracted a couple of times.

he made eye contact like a religion, like it was so, so significant. you took a sip of your beer. "what kind of prince are you?" you asked, leaning your heavy head on a palm.

he gave a low short of chuckle, and the sound was a rumble through your body, shook you up from the inside out. he clasped his broad hands in front of himself. "the boring kind," he said.

you shook your head, laughed. "okay, then, boring prince," you said. "what's your name?"

he licked his lips, and your eyes tracked the movement. your hands felt jittery. "joseph," he said, then asked for yours. you gave it. his kind eyes shimmered at this piece of you. "and what kind of princess are you, sweetheart?"

you laughed, bit your lip to stifle it, as you didn't want him to think you were making fun of him. but, really, in what world was this a princess costume? maybe in an adult film, but not here.

he didn't seem offended, though, just gave you a pouty look dripping with mirth. "what?" he said. you had a feeling he was rarely on the outside of an inside joke.

"it's just funny," you told him, feeling honest and open in the light of his polite gentleness. "that you think 'm dressed as a princess."

"oh, yeah?" he asked. his tiara shifted on his head. "what're you dressed as, then?"

something different wafted through the air between the two of you, something stronger than just the smell of grime and alcohol. something that felt sluggish, sparkly, seductive.

because even now, he didn't look away from your eyes. and that was, somehow, so much more intimate than some desperate once-over, one that would get caught on your chest, your thighs.

"how many princesses do you know who show this much skin?" you asked instead of answering his question. your voice had grown gravelly without your permission.

you had almost dared him to look away from your eyes, to take you in fully, in all of your corset-strapped glory.

but he didn't. which had you almost begging that he would.

"at least one," he said, a lopsided grin slanting across his face. "at least you."

"you know," you started, thought for a second. you sucked on your teeth, and his gaze flickered to your mouth for one single, almost undetectable second. a second that sparked a fire underneath you, had victory horns blaring in the distance. "you're pretty charming for a boring prince, joseph."

that pretty blush grew deeper, made his stark stature appear comfortable, warm. you wanted more of it. you wanted to know it deeply and personally.

when had you shifted so close together? the both of you leaning across the small table like it wasn't even there, breathing in the same air, sharing so politely.

you wanted to make his kind eyes simmer, make his blood run hot. you were close, you knew it, you could feel it in his exhales, in the slight tremor of his hands.

"don't think 'm the charmer between us, sweetheart," he said, low, a secret.

"we can share the title, if you want," you offered. "i'd share with you."

he hummed, shifted on his elbows, restless. "that's kind of you," he said. there was a roughness to his tone that flipped your heart in your chest, wrapped your legs up in coiling heat.

"what can i say?" you said, "you're a good influence on me."

there was a pause, during which you reached a hand up and gently adjusted his tiara so that it sat straight on his head again. you tried not to ruminate on how soft his hair was under your fingertips, pretended not to notice how his gaze draped over your face like a weighted blanket as you focused on the task.

when you withdrew your hand, he was staring at you. it felt like there was no one else in the room. "there," you said.

"straightened me out, did you?" he rasped, those doe eyes drowsy.

your mouth quirked up in a smirk. "oh, joey, i couldn't straighten you out," you said, tilting your head.

"no?" he asked, almost disappointed, not really. "what, sweetheart? 'd you be a bad influence on me?" he teased, twisting your words.

you knew you had him.

you knew you had him, so you forced aside any sensuality from your tone, your expression. "oh, fuck, i think my necklace is stuck in my hair," you said, clutching your hair, wincing like it hurt, watching concern flood his delicate features so gracefully. "know it's a lot to ask, joseph, but could you come to bathroom with me and untangle it, please?"

"of course," he said, practically before you could get it out, letting you take one of his wide, warm hands and tug him to the bathroom. once he was inside, just behind you, you locked the door, dropped your hair, both hands now free.

he appeared confused for a second. "your necklace?" he asked, but he trailed off as you placed a hand on his chest, felt the silken material of his shirt under your palm.

you peered up at him through your lashes, cocked your head. "'d you really fall for that, joey?" you asked, almost shocked.

his firm chest rose and fell under your hand, his exhales coming out shaky. "you're very persuasive," he mustered.

you hummed, relished in the heat that simmered between the two of you, full-bodied and palpable. "'m sorry i lied," you whispered, because you felt compelled to, because you had a feeling it mattered.

"'s okay," he breathed, immediate in his forgiveness, finally moving his hands from his sides to rest gently on your hips. this decision seemed to take a lot out of him, which made you smile. like his desire was heavy, like he just needed somewhere to put it down. like he wanted to touch you, so badly, but needed permission, needed someone to tell him how.

"can i be a bad influence on you for a second?" you asked him, leaned forward into his chest, "please?"

he nodded, leaned back against the door like holding his posture straight was suddenly too much to endure, let out some affirmative sound, halfway between a breath and a whimper.

you kept one hand on his chest, pressed him into the door, snaked your other hand into his hair and rooted it there. his grip on your hips tightened, now hard and strong, his own hips angling up slightly, involuntarily.

"can i kiss you?" you asked, suddenly soft, despite his sudden strength. because you had a feeling it mattered. that he mattered.

"please," he said, basically a whine, which had you fisting his shirt and tugging him down, his lips meeting yours in something like a fairytale, something heated and passionate and glutted with relief.

something heated, in the way you pulled at his hair, how his hand reached around you to pull you closer, right up against him.

something passionate, in the way your knees felt wobbly as swallowed down his sounds, swore you could feel his heartbeat under your palm.

something glutted with relief, in the way his tiara fell from his head entirely, only recognized by the dull clatter of plastic against wood, in the way neither of you pulled away, in the way it only gave you more access to him.

he tasted like mint and something slightly earthy, like peppermint candy and flaky sea salt. you much preferred this, you decided in a moment, to the taste of weed brownies and red bull that distinguished the kisses you had grown accustomed to, at school.

it was something like a fairytale, but not because it was perfect.

because it wasn't perfect, not at all. joseph was actually kind of a bad kisser, you realized. nothing crazy, nothing jarring, but the tell-tale signs of inexperience hung off of him like a too-big jacket.

moments of too-much teeth, unsure hands, a stiff neck, they made you smile against his mouth, because it was obvious he didn't let just anyone into his space like this.

so when his teeth would clash against yours, you'd simply nip at his bottom lip, playful, forgiving.

when his hands would still, uncertain, you'd just place a hand over where one of his rested, held it there, let him know you felt him, still, unwavering.

when his neck would stiffen, you'd rub at the knots with a knuckle, trace your nails over his hairline, feel a shiver erupt under your fingertips.

until he grew more comfortable in his motions, more brave in his want. desire flowed between you both like gasoline, sharp-scented and flammable. he let out an especially uninhibited groan when you brought your hand down to rest on his waistline, but the sound was engulfed by three swift knocks on the door.

"get outta there, guys," some authoritative voice called. "we're not that kind of establishment."

reluctantly, you pulled away from each other, chests heaving. the top of your chest glowed with warmth.

your prince looked delightfully disheveled. the top button of his shirt had slipped undone, his hair beautifully fussed, his cheeks ruddy, lips swollen, eyes glossy.

you knelt down, gently, picked up his plastic tiara, pushed up on your toes to place it on his head again. when you pulled back, there was something more dangerous than pure lust in his gaze.

as much fun as you knew you could have with him, and as much as you wanted to, you knew jenny would be looking for you, ready to go home. you knew joseph had his knight to attend to. knew this perfect moment that you had summoned was all but gone.

you knew the chances of seeing him again were very slim. the thought made your stomach drop, a bit. you exhaled all of your expectations, let them fall to the ground like sediment as you placed a hand on the doorknob.

he still hadn't said a word, almost in a daze. "you're going?" he asked, a husky rasp, and you could have pouted. it felt cruel, to be leaving behind such a pretty boy, one with such kind eyes.

you nodded slowly.

he just gave you a goofy sort of sad smile, tilted his crown to you like the brim of a hat. "until we meet again, trouble," he said, "you've been a lovely bad influence."

you smiled back at him, actually felt yourself blush. "and you've been a deviously good one," you said, "goodbye, joey."

and so you left him, walked away, but you could still feel his lips on yours, could feel the steadiness of his eye contact, the endearing uncertainty of his grip.

when the night ended, you had walked away from the dashing prince, the one you had pulled apart at the seams, but you knew you wouldn't forget him. your not-so-boring prince, who you couldn't even call a hookup, couldn't deem a fling, so you just knew him as your storybook kiss.

and you didn't forget him, even as the last summer days melted into early september, even as school started back up again, as classes came back into full-swing, as senior year and the countdown to graduation began.

you and jenny moved your things from your summer lease to your on-campus apartment, reunited with your friends who had been away for the summer, got all your classes and credits in order.

before you knew it, it was the first theatre department meeting, and you found yourself in the auditorium on a hot tuesday afternoon, slotting into a seat next to jenny and benji, the set designer who you had worked closely with during all your previous productions.

"good to see you, benj," you said, smiling at him.

he grinned, returned the sentiment, but tilted his head back in mock anguish. "another year of madness," he mused, "here we go again."

"our last go-around," you reminded him, elbowing him softly.

jenny made a noise, shook her head. "don't say that to me," she warned, "swear i'll start crying."

after welcoming everyone back, and building an adequate amount of suspense, the theatre director announced the fall play to be romeo and juliet.

"our department hasn't put it on since the eighties," the director exclaimed, "and i have the utmost belief that we will make it every bit the magical tragedy it is."

jenny was squeezing your hand so hard it hurt. juliet had been one of her dream roles since she was in middle school, since she had watched the movie with claire danes.

already, your head was spinning with visions of shakespearean headpieces, draping dresses, flowery imagery, blushy makeup.

beside you, benji groaned. "oh jesus," he lamented, "please, please, no castles."

you and jenny laughed. benji was one of the most talented artists you knew, and he always pulled it together before opening night, but he was a true procrastinator, tended to be a bit of a lazybones. the cast and crew loved him for it. what was an artist without a little bit of torture?

auditions were set for thursday morning, callbacks on friday, the final cast list to be posted on monday.

you didn't need to be present for any of the auditioning process, so, for the next few days, you enjoyed what you knew from experience to be your last moments of free time for the rest of the semester.

you went to office hours for your design professors, as you always did at the beginning of classes, just to introduce yourself, get yourself properly situated for academic success.

after jenny's audition on thursday, you went out, celebrated what she assured you was an astounding monologue delivery. between salted rims and blue-colored cocktails, jenny flipped her phone screen your way to show you the email that confirmed her callback tomorrow.

you squealed, shook her by the shoulders, pure excitement flowing through you. this was the year, you knew it. this was it.

nothing out of the ordinary, you let one of your friends set you up with some guy on saturday night. he was cute enough, kind of scummy, but, up until recently, he would have been exactly your type. you'd been known to go for the guys who looked like they'd been around the block, a little fratty, a little jocky. this guy, across from you, fit the bill, you could give him that.

all throughout college, you hadn't been the type to judge too harshly if a guy was a little too glued to his phone over dinner, if he had the distinct posture of someone who grew up with money, if he spoke shortly to wait staff.

for some reason, though, tonight, you felt itchy at the fact that he had a tough time looking you in the eye for more than a few seconds, felt a practically motherly concern at the way his fingers twitched towards his phone if he went more than a few minutes without looking at it.

for some reason, tonight, more so than nights before, the memory of a certain stiff-spined prince, blushing pink and thinking you were a princess, even dressed your sluttiest, danced across your mind like a waltz.

you sort of hated how his memory had kind of ruined what, a few months ago, would have been a satisfying hook-up, resented how someone you were never going to see again was dictating, to any degree, who you would go home with, but, regardless, you gave this guy across from you a terrible excuse for your need to leave, set a fiver on the table to cover your drink, hurried out the door and home.

jenny was sprawled out on her bed when you opened the door, watching some trashy reality dating show for the millionth time.

"watching it again isn't gonna make kaitlyn make the right choice," you reminded her as you set your bag down, recognizing the season from a single line of dialogue.

jenny groaned. "i can dream," she said, then fixed her eyes on you. "you look hot," she observed, "what are you doing here?"

you smiled as you began to take your makeup off. "went out with that guy chase set me up with," you explained, then sighed.

"what, did he lose his eyeballs on the way to the bar?"

you laughed, shook your head at jenny's characteristically odd wording. "nope," you said, "eyeballs intact. i just wasn't into it, i guess."

"fair enough," jenny agreed.

"it was so weird, though," you continued, "like, he was exactly what i usually go for."

"so he was a grimy slacker with a good face who has a concerning obsession with his mom?"

you gasped, feigned offense. "how dare you?" you asked, to which she giggled. "that was only twice!"

jenny rubbed at her neck. "for real though," she pushed, "what do you think is different?"

you bit your lip, thought for a moment, looked down at the cotton pad in your hand, now smudged with clumps of mascara and smears of blush. you swallowed. for some reason the sight made you slightly nauseous, some reminder of guilt or dirtiness or low self-esteem, or something like that, something you didn't really want to get into.

"you remember when you took me to the faire?" you said, still not looking at jenny.

"'course."

you exhaled. "well, when you were talking to that magician guy, i met this guy-"

jenny bolted upright from her horizontal position. "wait," she cut you off, excitement making her tone vibrate. "you mean to tell me that you met a guy at my faire, and i'm just hearing about it now?"

"sorry," you conceded, looking up to meet her eye.

"don't be," she waved you off, hugged her pillow to her chest. "i knew your costume would work!"

you rolled your eyes at her, pulled one of your knees up to your chest.

"so?" she asked, urging you on with her eyes. "tell me about him."

"he was just so fucking polite," you told her. "and so pretty. and when i made out with him in the bathroom it was like he didn't know how to kiss me, but he wanted to be good at it. so bad. like he was almost embarrassed about it." you sighed. "i don't even know why 'm still thinking about him," you told her, and it was true, sort of.

"i do," jenny told you, cracked a smile when you shot her a look. "i know everything."

"enlighten me, all-knowing jester," you said, gesturing for her to elaborate.

"you always take the scumbags, babe," she told you, "and they're fun, sure, but now you've had a taste of the teacher's pet, mom's favorite, goes to church on sunday. once you go 'good guy,' you never go back."

"i don't know," you said, skeptical, "i feel like i'm putting too much stock into this. feel like he probably doesn't even remember me."

jenny blew out a breath. "yeah right," she said, "let me tell you something."

"please."

"as much as you're feeling hooked on the good guy, right now," she said, "i can guarantee he's plagued at night by his glimpse of the dark side."

you hummed, smiled. "and i'm the dark side, in this scenario?"

"babe," jenny said, "you're not a 'bad person,' but you're a 'bad girl.'"

you pouted, but you knew what she meant. knew that you were kind, a good listener, a good friend, that you were trustworthy and patient and generous, but also that you weren't above the simple pleasures. that you weren't one to turn down a free drink, were always down to get your hands (and reputation) a little dirty, and until recently, that you were a one-night-stand frequent.

you also knew that people liked to label you as the bad girl simply because of the way you looked, the way you flirted, the way you dressed.

"whatever," you said, shrugging, acting like it didn't matter, wanting to change the subject, knowing just how to do it. "monday's the big day, right?"

jenny gushed about her callback, how that juliet role was practically hers, how she didn't want to jinx it. you told her the truth, that you couldn't imagine anyone else for the role, that they'd have to be stupid not to cast her.

and they proved to be not stupid, monday morning, when the cast list was emailed out to the department. on you way between classes, you received a face-time call from jenny before you even finished reading the full list.

"we did it!" jenny screamed as her jubilant face filled up your screen.

you couldn't help but let your face split into a grin at her excitement. "i told you," you said, "i told you! this is your year, jen. you deserve this so much." you almost felt misty-eyed. "'m so proud of you."

she looked like she actually was crying, now. "stop, babe, or you're gonna get me going," she warned. "fuck, i can't believe it. a lead role! i can't wait to wear your designs center stage!"

"i can't wait, too," you said, and you meant it.

"i know you have class, i'll let you go," she said, "see you at the meeting at four. okay, bye." she gave one last look. "our year!" she squealed as she hung up, leaving you laughing as you walked into class.

finally, it was time for the all-department meeting, your last commitment of the day, when everyone involved in the production met, now that you all knew the cast, from the leads to the directors to the stage managers to the last freshman painting sets under benji's direction.

"morrison's a night. mare," was the first thing that benji said to you as you slid into the seat next to him.

you hummed. "who's morrison?"

"one of my freshman," he explained. "his girlfriend's in the cast, said he wants to 'keep an eye on her,' whatever that means."

you scrunched up your nose. "gross," you said.

"and he sucks at everything," benji said. "'m half tempted to tell him to just stand in the corner and not touch anything."

you laughed as the director clapped his hands on the stage to get everyone's attention, launched into the typical congratulations speech. you felt jenny sit to your right with a deep breath.

"little late, eh, jen?" benji whispered.

"can it, benny," she replied, to which benji scowled. he hated when she called him that.

"and now, we'll do a full introduction," the director was saying, "from the back of the house all the way to the front. i can not emphasize enough how important it is that we, here in the theatre, trust and love everyone around us."

"i love you so much," you whispered to benji, who smirked.

"'m not interested, babe, but so flattered," was his response.

"why don't we start with our leads? jennifer and carlos, please stand and introduce yourselves."

"yeah, jennifer," you whispered, giggling into your hand. benji shook next to you.

jenny smacked you on the shoulder as carlos went. your production's romeo was a senior, too, had been in the department as long as you and your friends. you were a little surprised he had gotten the role, if you were honest, had always thought his acted grief came across as a bit shallow.

then jenny went, standing up, waving to everyone. when she was done with her introduction, no one clapped louder than you and benji, even whistling, a sound that echoed through the space.

the rest of the cast went, then all the directors and behind the scenes people. eventually, benji and his team went, followed by the costume crew.

"hi, everyone," you said, standing up, giving them all your name. "i'm the head costumer designer, and i can't wait to help all of you look like the best versions of yourselves and characters." you had used that line since sophomore year.

more people followed, eventually even the ushers went, followed by the orchestra and band.

you were friends with some of the music kids, so you tried to pay closer attention.

"'sup guys, 'm matt, on percussion," a stocky guy said, then gestured to the guy next to him. you laughed when you heard him grunt, "go, dude."

"yeah, i'm bobby," his friend, the blonde one, said, giving an awkward wave, "i, uh, play guitar."

"jesus, how does he look hotter than last spring?" benji said, putting his head in his hands, referring to the crush he had harbored on the department's guitarist for two years. you rubbed his shoulder in comfort, but a voice you recognized made your gaze snap back.

"hello, everyone, my name is joseph, i'm your new pianist, and i'm so excited to get to know you all."

the next person went to speak, but you just blinked, swallowed your disbelief down like a too-big pill.

it couldn't be him, but it was. there stood your boring prince, in a button down and khakis, this time, no tiara to be found. it made you wonder if he still had it, somewhere, maybe his bedroom, if his gaze would catch on it sometimes and he would think of you. if it would make him blush.

there he stood, hair just a bit longer, but the rest all the same as the dream boy who lived in your memory. so pretty, his words so naturally kind, you barely even noticed that he mentioned he would be the pianist for the production, too distracted by the fact that he was here, in front of you, right now.

hands on your waist, his soft groans muffled against your lips, wide doe eyes looking at you like he couldn't bear to look away, it all flashed across your mind, made you stiffen, your exhale come out short.

"you okay?" jenny whispered to you.

"that's him," you said.

"who?" her brow was furrowed, confused.

"that's him," you repeated. "the guy from the faire."

benji turned to you. "no way you let her drag you to that geek fest," he said, but you both ignored him, jenny's eyes going wide.

"that's your good guy?" she clarified. "the piano man is the bad kisser?"

"lower your voice," you warned, your voice low, serious.

benji leaned in. "you kissed bambi, over there?"

"yes, benny, keep up," jenny said, barely sparing him a look. "babe, you need to talk to him. this is fate." she snapped her fingers. "this is literally what the fortune teller was talking about, work and fun and all that."

you bit your lip, looked towards joseph again. your heart stuttered in your chest when you found him to be already looking at you. his lips quirked up in a shy smile as his fingers fluttered in a gentle wave.

you let a smile drape across your face at his recognition, his cordiality, then winked at him.

he looked at his feet, shifted lightly on his feet. you swore you could see his nervous blush from here. it made you feel like you were coated in glitter.

finally, the meeting ended with the promise of an email containing a review of all the information discussed. as everyone stood up and made for the exits, jenny gently shoved towards the front, where joseph was talking with his friends. she grabbed the elbow of benji and walked in the other direction as he muttered something about always being the last to know things.

you walked down the auditorium aisle, joseph's eyes lifting to meet yours as you got close. his smile grew boyish and bashful as he registered your approach, stepped out of his lean against the stage, brushed his palms against his pants.

there was a pause that you noted, because what exactly could you say, here? what exactly could you do?

could you say hey, matt and bobby, i don't know how you know joseph, but i made out with him in the bathroom of a ren faire tavern and haven't stopped thinking about him since?

probably not.

instead, you just smiled, asked matt and bobby how their summers were. they had been in the theatre band since sophomore year, so you were familiar with them, at least enough to know what place matt was talking about when he mentioned his vacation home and who bobby was referring to when he mentioned his buddies on the team (the both of them were on the club hockey team at school).

matt clapped a heavy hand on joseph's shoulder. "woller's on the team with us," he explained, "convinced him to fill the piano void we had after the seniors graduated."

you hummed, turned your gaze back to joseph, relished in the endearing awkwardness you found. "joey and i have met, actually," you said.

bobby shrugged. "you go to the same school, not all that surprising."

it was sort of funny, now that you thought of it, that in three years, you hadn't crossed paths with joseph one time. not once did he catch your attention in the dining hall, not once did he drop a pen in your vicinity during a lecture, never did he accidentally bump into you between classes.

you'd gone three years without seeing those blue eyes, and since that chance encounter, you hadn't stopped thinking about them.

matt seemed to be more perceptive than bobby, though, giving a slight nod in understanding. "we'll leave you to catch up, then," he said, grabbing his backpack, tossing bobby his. "see you 'round, guys."

then the auditorium was empty, except for you and joseph. like a universe that existed only for the two of you. the high ceilings seemed barely suitable to fit the mass of emotion you felt.

you kept a safe step's distance. "hi, joey," you said, softer than you meant.

his eyes shimmered at your voice, at the nickname. "hi, trouble," he said, in that tone that felt like winter sunlight, "how are you?"

of course he would ask that, hands shoved into his pockets, of course he would ask that and really mean it, really care.

"'m good," you said. "really good, now. didn't know 'f i'd see you again."

he hummed, and it felt like power, to know that you both were thinking about the last time, to know for certain he was thinking of you, pushing him up against a door.

"how are you?" you reciprocated, leaning back on your heels.

he thought for a moment, the pause fat with nostalgia, ripe with promise. "pretty nervous, if 'm honest," he told you, looked down.

you couldn't hide your delight. "like you honest," you told him, and his blush deepened. he wanted to meet your gaze, so badly, you could tell, but it was almost like he didn't trust himself to, like he might get caught there forever.

he gave a breathy sort of laugh. it made your head spin.

you stepped closer to him, which tore his eyes up to yours. his chest heaved in what might have been a relieved sigh. "do your friends know?" you asked, and your voice had grown husky, softer, only for him.

he shook his head, his eyes welling up with genuine truth, like he would never. "no," he said.

"really?" you asked, cocked your head. "don't kiss and tell, joey?"

his ears bloomed pink, like the word kiss was some kind of curse, like all of it was too much to hear aloud. it had you almost regretting saying it. almost.

when he spoke, his voice cracked, slightly. "no, uh, can't say i do, sweetheart." he said.

you gave him a smile that curled with smokiness. "did you just wanna keep it to yourself, then?" you asked, let your gaze grow hooded. "maybe keep me to yourself?"

his breathing was heavier, and he was so close, and all you wanted to do was kiss him again, knead your knuckles into that stiff neck, feel him against you, but you didn't.

you didn't and then he spoke again. it was breathy, wavering. "think, maybe, uh, we should," he started, "think we should just be, uh, friends, sweetheart."

and you could have been disappointed, offended, even, but you weren't. you just took a small step back, smiled at him gently. let his words settle. "do you, joey?"

he gave a slight nod. "yeah, um, just 'cause of the show, and we'll be working closely, and such," he said. "for the sake of the show." something permissive and almost regretful, something practically compunctious flooded his bright, blue eyes, the way oil sullies a warm ocean gulf.

"thank god we have a pianist so dedicated to the production, then," you said, eyes wide, watched him blush further. "we should probably exchange numbers, then," you continued, "so we can do things that friends do."

he cleared his throat, nodded, entered his information into the phone you offered him. "it'll be good," he said, but it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than you.

"it'll be so, so good," you amended, retreating, now walking towards the exit. "i promise, joey, 'll make it so good, for you."

for the second time, you left him, blushing, disheveled, this time with much more hope in your heart.

"so, did you talk to him?" jenny asked you over lunch the next day.

"and can you get him to talk to bobby about me?" benji asked, taking a bite of his sandwich.

"yes, and no," you said, making benji pout.

jenny stamped her feet under the table in fast succession. "so, what did you say? what did he say?"

you shrugged. "he said we should be just friends." it even sounded funny coming out of your mouth.

benji winced. "ouch," he said, blowing out a breath.

"i don't get it," jenny said, appearing genuinely confused.

"said it was for the good of the production, or something," you said.

"what a load of bullshit," jenny said, now almost angry.

you shrugged again.

"why aren't you upset?" benji asked, skeptical. "in all the time i've known you, you haven't been friendzoned once. it can't feel good to be slummin' it with the rest of us."

you laughed. "i'm not upset because i know he doesn't want to be friends, he just thinks it's the right thing to do."

"what's the difference?" jenny said, "regardless, he set his terms."

"and i'll be respectful of them," you said, and you meant it. you were not one to break hard-set boundaries, to act in a forceful or disrespectful way. "i'm a great friend."

benji narrowed his eyes. "so, you're just gonna be totally platonic with this guy?"

you nodded, leaned back in your seat.

"just friends with the only guy i've ever seen you think twice about?" jenny clarified.

"exactly," you reiterated. "just friends, nothing more." your mouth quirked. "until he inevitably decides otherwise."

benji rolled his eyes. "of course," he said, almost bitter. "the elusive long game."

"won't be that long," you corrected.

"how can you be so sure?"

you smiled at the memory. "his eyes," you said, honestly, almost guiltily. "bit of a dead giveaway."

joseph had declared you just friends, so that's what you would be, for the time being. you trusted he would come to his own conclusions as time passed, so you figured there really wasn't any reason to rush things. there were much worse things than being friends with a very kind person.

so you texted him the next morning, sent him a hey :) it's your favorite new friend, followed by your name, followed by a what're you doing later?

and of course he was a prompt responder, getting back to you in a matter of minutes. a Good Morning, Sweetheart, followed by a We have practice until 6:30, but I'm free after that. What did you have in mind?

his texts read a bit awkward and stiff, in all of their grammatical correctness, but it made you sigh, because what was he, if not a little awkward and stiff?

wanna study at my place? you sent, followed by i could walk you back from practice.

I'd like that. was his response, followed by Just to clarify, you mean actually study, right? That wasn't an innuendo?

now he had you smiling at your phone. get your head outta the gutter joey you texted, followed by just to study, followed by pinkie promise.

you could picture his blush as if you wear standing in front of him.

See you at 6:30, Trouble, was his last response.

you sort of thought it was funny that he called you that, and maybe it should have been a little offensive, because maybe you were tired of being associated with that kind of negativity. maybe you were tired of coming with a warning label, tired of feeling like all anyone saw when they looked at you was a pretty face wrapped up in red flags.

what was funnier, you supposed, was that you didn't mind it when he called you that. you didn't mind it because there was something you liked about being trouble to him, in particular. you liked being his sweetheart, probably more than you would admit to yourself, but there was something addictive about being important enough, singular enough, powerful enough to be deemed trouble by a person like him.

a person who just oozed with goodness, with righteousness, without any of the arrogance so typically marring the quality, a person whose smile leaked sunshine, who was distinct in their genuineness, whose honesty and kindness you swore you could taste, the way marshmallow fluff sticks to your teeth, grainy and sweet.

maybe you didn't love being trouble, but perhaps you didn't mind being his trouble.

that was the sentiment at the forefront of your mind as you entered the ice rink that the club team practiced at, a few minutes early, let the chillier air cool your face.

the last of the team was on the ice, just a few bodies picking up pucks and cones. you scanned the ice, didn't spot his distinct profile, so you just took a seat in the bleachers, enjoyed the rare moment of quiet, breathing in and out.

a quiet thudding noise drew your attention to the glass, where matt and bobby were waving you down. you hopped down from the bleachers while bobby opened the door to the ice, which made a heavy clanging sound.

"hey, guys," you said, now standing in front of them.

"you missed the fun part," bobby said. you had to crane your neck to look at them. they were taller in skates, a little more intimidating in full hockey pads than when they were goofing off in the pit of the theatre.

you laughed good-naturedly. "not here to watch you trick pucks off the crossbar," you said.

matt laughed. "why are you here, then?" he said.

you didn't quite answer, sucked on your teeth for a second. "where's joey?" you asked, instead.

bobby rolled his eyes.

matt just nodded towards the other end of the ice. "i'll tell him you're here," he said, skated away.

your eyes followed him, then widened. "he's a goalie?" you asked bobby. you tracked the big number sixty on the back of the jersey, the slow, deliberate skating motions, the posture you recognized.

"yeah, why?" bobby asked.

"i don't know," you said, "forgot that was even a position."

"it's the position for freaks," he clarified, leaning against the boards.

you scrunched up your face. but, you supposed, you had never met anyone quite like joseph. perhaps that made him a freak, to some degree.

matt skated back over and told bobby they had to get off the ice for the zamboni, telling you that joseph said he'd meet you by the exit.

you hadn't been waiting for five minutes before the three of them emerged from the locker room, holding water bottles and backpacks. your eyes, however, snagged on joseph like a thread on a nail, didn't leave. he looked too pretty like this, damp hair curling at the ends, face flushed with exertion and cold, his body visibly tired but also more relaxed than you'd seen him.

your throat went dry when he smiled at you. "hey, sweetheart," he said, easy.

"hi," you responded, clasped your hands behind your back, scared, if left to their own devices, they'd reach up and push that rogue curl from his forehead.

"where're you guys headed?" matt asked you as you pushed the doors open into the dusky night.

"mine," you said, not thinking anything of it, because it was the truth, because there was nothing to be embarrassed about.

then you saw the blush that tinted joseph's nose, dainty, but there. maybe it had sounded a little suggestive, but you had nothing to apologize for, and his reaction sort of hurt your feelings, for some reason.

you both said goodbye to matt and bobby, who were headed off to the dining hall, and continued on the walk to your apartment. "are you embarrassed?" you asked, not harshly, just truthfully. because it mattered.

it mattered if he thought you were the kind of person it was embarrassing to go home with. it mattered if he thought there was some kind of reputation with you that would become his through association.

it mattered if he thought you were an embarrassing kind of trouble, instead of a beautiful kind.

he didn't answer for a second, exhaled, and you squinted. "are you embarrassed of me?" you amended.

his gaze shot to yours, eyes flooded with concern, genuine worry. "what? no," he promised, "no, sweetheart, of course not of you."

and this made you feel better, a little. "what of, then?" you asked, in step besides his large frame.

a pause settled in the space between his hip and your waist, side by side, stride by stride.

he ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek. "it's just that," he started, took a breath, then started again. "i know it must seem weird to you, how flustered i get." you wanted to cut him off, correct him, but mostly you wanted him to continue. "'m not as comfortable as you, as confident."

"it's not weird," you promised, "i like how flustered you get. i like your blush." your fingers twitched. "i can try to dial it back, if it'd make you feel better. i can try to be, i don't know, less-"

he did cut you off, then. "no," he said, his voice breaking, only a bit. "don't, uh, change." he cleared his throat, squeezed his plastic water bottle, making it crinkle. "please."

you stared at the side of his face, for a second, any words dying in your throat. "really? aren't you scared 'll bring you over to the dark side, joey?" you said it like a joke, but it wasn't, not really. "aren't you scared i'll turn you bad?"

he looked at you, then, big blue eyes drunk with truth. "'m not scared of you, trouble," was all he said, and that was that.

you showed him up to your apartment, gave him a short tour.

"where do you usually do homework?" he asked, gentle.

"bedroom floor," you said, almost sheepish. "floor's the best place for critical thinking."

he laughed, adjusting his backpack on his shoulder. "lead the way, then," he said.

so you sat with him, on the floor of your bedroom, for a couple hours, until the night made time feel viscous and thick, until your throat was rough from lack of use, until your eyelids felt heavy.

hours of you, doing physics problem sets, and him, finishing history readings. hours of work that were made comfortable, sleepy, by the shared presence of each other, of exhales and warmth and shifting limbs.

hours of work cut with questions about his day, about your classes, about him playing the piano, about your friendship with jenny, about his with bobby and matt, about your mom and his siblings and your design dreams and his uncertain ones.

before long it was past midnight, and you felt your eyes lingering too long on his full mouth, and his gaze felt too honey-sweet on your face. before long, it was time for him to go, before the late hour made you want to see just how far you could push just friends.

out of respect, though, and because you cared about him, at some point, you cleared your throat.

"i should probably go to sleep, soon," you said, a rasp to your voice.

he made to grab his things, pushed his massive body up from your floor. "me too," he said. "'s getting late."

he swung his backpack onto his shoulder and you walked him to the door. he opened it, turned back around, leaned against the frame, facing you.

he looked down at you, and your heart surged, your mind clouded with deja vu. "do you still have your tiara?" you asked, nodding up to his head.

his lips split into a smile as he gave a rough, low laugh. "yeah, sweetheart," he said, his eyes growing foggy with memory. "that's, uh, a keeper."

and it probably wasn't how he meant it, but it almost felt like he was saying you were a keeper, and no one had ever thought that before. you squeezed your hand into a fist. "remember when you said you were a boring prince?"

he nodded.

it took every inch of your discipline not to touch him, hug him, tug him down by his shirt and kiss him dumb. "you're not boring, joey," you said.

he swallowed, his eyes welling up with meaning. "how can you be so sure?" he asked, soft.

"you can't be," you explained, "or i would've been able to stop thinking about you."

his hooded gaze caught on your lips, and it would have been so easy to push up on your toes, slot your mouth against his, but you didn't.

his simmering eyes met yours again. "goodnight, sweetheart," he breathed.

"goodnight," you said, your smile fluttery, shutting the door gently behind him.

and so began the most confusing friendship of your life.

the semester progressed quickly, the pace constantly being pushed by your busy schedule. your days seemed to pass in a blink, filled by classes and exams and rehearsals and theatre commitments, fittings and design meetings and movie nights with jenny, lunches with benji.

jenny's juliet grew more and more compelling, benji grew more and more annoyed with his set crew.

the more time passed, the more frequently you were making plans with joseph, until he just became a part of your schedule. two days a week, you would study at your place, a different two days, you would go to his, instead.

he lived with some guys from the team, so the kitchen was a bit messy, and the decor was seriously lacking, but his room was spotlessly clean, actually sort of comfortable, so you didn't mind. he had a desk, but you had convinced him of the magic of the floor, so the floors of your respective bedrooms had become something of a safe place, a tall, tall tower, away from everything else, away from reality.

you came to find that there was absolutely nothing more comfortable than the warm silence that settled between the two of you like a glittery fog when you'd both get into a working groove, perhaps not talking for stretches of time, but the presence of each other easy enough to fall asleep in.

here and there, one of you would slice through the silence like a warm knife through salted butter, asking about something that had happened that morning, or practice, or rehearsal, or something.

he'd ask how your exam went, and his gaze would melt a bit when you'd gush about how you knew you nailed it.

"that's great, sweetheart," he'd say, his posture more relaxed in the nighttime drowsiness. "'m so proud of you."

maybe you'd ask how the game last weekend went, and his nose would twitch, just a bit.

he'd shrug, and the muscles in his neck would clench, and you'd want nothing more than to ease the tension there with your fingers. "fine," he'd say. "could've been better."

and you'd roll your eyes. "you always think you could've been better," you'd say, and it would be true. you had come to understand that he was a real perfectionist when it came to hockey.

he'd smile, lopsided, and your stomach would flip. "'cause i always could be," he'd say, and it would make you frown.

"i don't know," you'd say, the words coming out slow, like molten chocolate. you'd meet his lazy gaze. "don't think it gets much better than you."

nights of studying and walking him back from practice, days during which, when you were lucky, you could sneak a coffee break with him, began to feel normal, but not in the sense that you didn't feel especially grateful every time you saw him. you couldn't imagine an instance that his eyes wouldn't make your knees wobble, that his voice wouldn't make your heart jolt, a time when making him blush wouldn't feel like a triumph, when making him laugh wouldn't pull the most genuine smile from your own mouth.

you felt as if he'd been an abrupt reset to your whole system, ever since that dusky summer kiss against a door, like a startling ice bath to your entire being. for him, though, you didn't imagine your presence to be as shocking, instead more gradual, like your attention, your thinly-veiled attraction was like ivy, slowly overtaking an old brick building.

miraculously, for weeks and weeks, you kept your hands to yourself. sure, there was the occasional hug goodbye, which typically left you speechless, the more frequent touch of a hand here and there, over a glass of water or across a spread of notebooks. once, and only once, there was a firm arm around your waist, the time when you slipped while walking next to him, his quick reflexes meaning his arm shot out to wrap around you, pulling you back upright in a single motion.

you tried your best not to lean into his embrace, mentally applauded yourself for a job well done. "thanks for that," you said, clearing your throat.

he didn't let go of you immediately though, his hand lingering on your waist for a split second, his gaze shadowy, like in a trance.

"joey," you said, and it came out like a plea, because he couldn't touch you, not like this. it wasn't fair, and you were being so good. "don't do this to me."

that snapped him out of his daze, as he gently retracted his arm, settled it unnaturally next to his side, like he wasn't quite sure what to do with it, now that his palm had laid flat against your hip. what do you do with something sacred? "sorry, sweetheart," he said, and his voice was rough.

for the first time, though, you realized, with narrowing eyes, you got the sense that he was lying to you. that he wasn't actually sorry, not at all.

then there was the time that he showed up at your place unannounced, on a day when you hadn't made plans. "coming," you'd yelled out in response to a knock, fresh out of the shower, only a towel wrapped around you. you opened the door, almost yelped when you saw him in the frame, looking straight out of a fairytale with his hair in his face.

of course, he blushed, looked down when he registered your appearance, clicked his tongue as you held your towel tighter around you. "d'you, uh," he said, "do you always answer the door like this?"

you could have laughed at his gentle humor, despite him being so obviously flustered. "only for you, joey," you said, winking at him, making him go red, which made your smile grow as you swung the door open wider, wordlessly inviting him inside. "kidding. one sec, let me get dressed."

eventually, matt and bobby got used to your presence in their kitchen, in the bleachers of the rink. you met their fourth roommate, a tall, lanky defenseman you mistakenly called simon the first time you met him.

"not si-mon," he corrected, "si-mone."

"like the girl's name," bobby said, trying to help, to which simon whacked him on the back of the head.

"aren't athletes supposed to eat healthy?" you asked one time, when you were steeping one of the tea bags you had begun to keep at joseph's place, just for convenience's sake. you had walked in on matt, bobby, and simon making ice cream sundaes.

matt just waved you off. "it's different for club," he said.

bobby scowled. "last i checked, you don't pay rent here," he said, "no rent, no opinion."

"yeah," simon said, his accent slight as he put the ice cream carton back into the freezer. "why don't you go back to your own house?"

"because i'm studying," you said, to which you were on the receiving end of a chorus of groans.

"swear you guys are practically married," matt said. "remember when i walked in on you putting that gray shit on his face?"

you rolled your eyes. "that was a face mask, and it's good for your pores."

"he has you over here more in a week than my girl has been here in a month," simon continued.

you scoffed. "maybe you should fix that, then," you told him. "nothing to do with me. me and your roommate are just-"

"don't finish that sentence," bobby said, "for my sanity, don't do it."

"what's going on out here?" came that deep voice from behind you.

"nothing," simon said, "your girl called us athletes, though."

simon's wording had you almost sad, about to correct him, but something in you stopped. because was it really all that much of a lie? joseph didn't correct him, either, which had to count for something. had to mean something.

"bein' nice, trouble?" joseph asked, a lazy smile on his face.

"you know me," you said, to which his eyes shimmered. because he did, because it was true.

you could almost hear bobby's eye roll. "we'll see you at rehearsal tomorrow," he said on his way back to his room.

as opening night grew impossibly close, your path began to cross with joseph's more in the theatre, too.

as you'd get final measurements in, make some last minute adjustments to skirt lengths and blouse widths, you'd hear that telltale melody from the pit, so smooth it'd put a smile on your face.

once, you were doing a final check of jenny's costume, the last one she would wear before curtain close, and the music began.

jenny's grin grew teasing. "such a sap, now," she said.

"don't," you warned, "i'm the one with all the pins."

she put her hands up in surrender. "not a bad thing," she said, "it's really cute, actually. just can't believe you've lasted this long."

you sighed. "that makes the two of us."

benji popped in from the wing. "so proud of you," he said, "but one of you needs to do something. it's actually painful."

it was sort of crazy, you realized, to be anything but completely grateful and satisfied with being one of joseph's closest friends. it was a privilege, you knew that. it just kind of made you wish you'd never kissed him in the first place, that you didn't know what he felt like, sounded like, tasted like. you could be so completely content if you didn't know that.

"dude, you sound like a dying cat." you recognized matt's voice, assumed he was talking to bobby. "opening night's in two days."

you could picture bobby's disinterested shrug.

benji took this opportunity to walk all the way out onto the stage, clear his throat. "i think you sound great, bobby," he said.

there was a pause. "uh, thanks, man," was the short reply. "what was your name again?"

you winced. jenny shuttered. "brutal," she whispered.

"bob, you know benji," joseph said from the piano bench, ever the polite diplomat. "he paints all the sets."

bobby looked around, took in the castles and gardens that benji had worked so hard on. "you did these?" he asked. benji nodded. "pretty sick, dude," he said, impressed.

jenny put a hand over her heart. "oh, benji, you're so talented and handsome," she said, loudly, drawing everyone's attention.

benji rolled his eyes. "oh, fuck off, jen."

you caught joseph's gaze across the space, him at the piano, you bent down, fussing with jenny's hem.

hi, he mouthed, and your heart stirred.

hi, you mouthed back.

because of the packed and overlapping theatre schedule, you became closely acquainted with the way joseph played the piano, nothing like matt's violent percussion or bobby's novice-at-best guitar abilities. he played with a gentle intensity, a passionate perfectionism, which you supposed was just the way that he was.

you swore you could watch him get caught up in the notes, could follow the deft movements of his hands for hours and not get bored, because he wouldn't get bored.

finally, it was the day before opening night, and after completing the whole last minute checklist as well as all the department's traditions and superstitions, you went back to your workspace for just a second to triple check everything. you wanted everything to go smoothly tomorrow, no surprises. a few minutes into your last checks, though, there was a soft knock on your open door.

you looked up to find a tired pair of big blue eyes. "what're you doing here?" you asked, gentle. "look like you're about to fall asleep, joey."

he shook his head. "wide awake," he said, and he sounded it. "know it's a late night, but it's still thursday. i understand if you wanted to skip tonight, but-"

you waved him off, lugged your bag onto your shoulder. "yeah, right," you said. "not gettin' rid of me that easy."

he smiled, held the door open for you as you passed him, as you both began the walk to his place. the air was chilly, refreshing, but you shivered, nonetheless.

"cold?" he asked, and you nodded, to which he started to unbutton his shirt.

"what're you doing?" you said, and you couldn't help the shocked sort of tone your voice had taken on.

he gave a light laugh, handed you his button down, revealing a t-shirt underneath. he looked at you, almost guiltily, eyes a bit dark, as you shrugged your bag off, put his shirt on, then your backpack. "'m always prepared," he said.

"thank you," you said, and it looked like the words warmed him from the inside out. you figured, maybe, you'd push your luck. "god forbid you show a little skin."

the silence rumbled. it was dark, but it was as if you could feel the heat of his blush, felt it on your own face like a creamy foundation. "easy, trouble," he said, and it was quiet, hoarse.

soon enough he was holding the door of his apartment open, as he had so many times before, then he was leading you into his bedroom, but it felt so different, for some reason, so much heavier, harder, more heated.

you took your spot on the floor, spread out your notes, planning to get a little bit of studying done, as you knew you wouldn't finish any schoolwork tomorrow, with all the running around you were going to be doing. he took his spot across from you, maybe a little bit closer, which you pretended not to notice.

time passed as it usually did, in this situation, at this hour, in his company.

but then you'd catch him looking at you, feel it like a blistering singe, would look up to meet his gaze, only to find it back down on his homework, like the movement of your head was enough to scare him back into routine.

and then it happened again, and he wasn't even looking at your face, this time, he was staring at your middle, your body, which he never did, and you wanted to throw something at him, tell him to stop, please, because you couldn't handle it. his longing was too much to take, the way it was seeping through the walls like a aphrodisiac. if it was a challenge to keep your hands to yourself under normal circumstances, it was almost impossible, now, when he was hiding his want so poorly, almost like he wasn't trying to hide it at all.

the third time it happened, you cleared your throat. it was making you sort of nervous, and it was definitely getting your hopes up. "you starin' at me, joey?" you asked, not accusatory.

"sorry," he said, immediately, didn't meet your eyes.

you tilted your head. "that's the second time you've done that," you observed.

he looked up, at that. "what?"

"that's the second time you've lied to me about being sorry."

he swallowed, and your eyes tracked the motion. his flush was that of guilt, maybe a dull sort of shame.

"why're you embarrassed?" you asked, shifting a bit closer to him. "you're allowed to look at me, you know."

his blue eyes swam with promise as he let out what looked like a soft sigh of relief. "i am?" he asked.

you nodded, felt a little mean. maybe it was the fact that it had been months since his lips had been on yours, and the memory still sparked a fire inside of you. maybe it was the fact that you'd been so patient, maybe it was that you had a feeling the sight of you in his button-down, a little tight in the chest and by the hips, was making his throat dry. "you're allowed, joey, because we're such good friends."

something like a grunt rumbled in his throat, involuntary, and you squinted at him. you were right in front of him, now, sitting on your heels, watching his indecision weigh on him like a boulder between his shoulder blades.

"what?" you asked, the picture of innocence. "what's wrong?"

"nothing, sweetheart," he said, breathy, "nothing's wrong, it's just that-"

"what?" you pushed.

he didn't continue, just swallowed around his words, rested his elbows on his bent knees, notebooks strewn to the side.

you gave a little pout, leaned forward, so close, now, you could see the faint gold in the blue of his eyes. "don't like being my friend, joey?"

"no, i do-" he rushed, but you cut him off again.

"'ve been so good," you said, because it was true, "and you're being mean."

this seemed to sober him up, to turn his words to steel, steady and honest. this seemed to tap into a well of confidence you didn't even know he possessed, because he leaned forward, too, reached a broad hand out, brushed his thumb against your cheekbone, making your breath catch in your throat.

"i like being your friend," he said, and the words were like a soothing balm to your scorched reputation. then his gaze rippled with heat, and you remembered how you had gotten that reputation in the first place. he gave you a knowing sort of look. "but i want to kiss you, sweetheart. so badly."

you could have cried with relief, could have slapped him in the face for taking so long, could have made him wait a little bit longer just to be cruel, but instead, you just wrapped your arms around his neck, shifted forward, let him make space for you until your knees straddled his hips.

it felt like something religious that he was the one that pulled you closer, by your hips, that he was the one to dip his head down and meet you in a kiss that felt, simultaneously, like opening a door marked do not enter and finally, finally, coming home.

you tugged lightly at his hair, just wanting him closer, just wanting him as close as you could get him. his grip on one of your hips grew firm, confident, as the other hand splayed out on the side of your face, rough and warm.

you sighed into his mouth, because he tasted like how you remembered, like cool mint, and because he smelled so good, and because you felt so perfect, so safe.

his teeth knocked against yours, and his rhythm was off, and you had the feeling he was holding back, a little, but all of that was so him, was exactly the imperfect kiss you had been fixating on, but this time with the added passion of knowing him so genuinely, so deeply.

you dug a knuckle into his neck, worked at the knots under your touch. your movements grew slow, languished, lazy, as you softly rocked your hips against him, relished in the groan you pulled from him, making you pull away, just a little, feel him breathe heavy against you, his eyelids heavy. "so stiff, joey," you said, "relax for me, yeah?"

"yeah." he nodded, whined, slightly, when you shifted back and forth again. when his eyes caught yours again, there was something new there, a deeper desire, a question.

you leaned forwards, pressed your mouth messily to his jaw, down his neck. "just ask me," you said, between kisses, "you're allowed, baby, just ask me."

his voice was dazed, like it was hard to focus with your lips on his neck, with you grinding against him. you could feel him, firm and hard, underneath you. "just need," he tried, "just need something, sweetheart, please."

you pulled back, slightly, rested your cheek on his shoulder, giving you both a moment to catch your breath. "don't wanna rush you," you said into his collarbone, because you meant it, because it was important. "but 'll give you anything you want."

it felt so odd to even have to say that, because it seemed that everyone you'd been with, before, had already assumed this of you, that of course you'd give them anything, everything, because you were you, with that face, with that flirtatious smile, with that history.

it felt so lovely, to feel compelled to have to clarify that for him. because of course you would give him anything, everything, every single part of yourself, if he'd only ask.

he clasped his hands behind your back, exhaled slowly. "thank you," he whispered, and it broke your heart into a million pieces. when was the last time someone had thanked you for offering yourself up, like this? why did it almost make you want to cry?

"what do you want, baby?" you asked, running your nails along his neck, after his words had hardened around your heart like crystal, somehow still silken-soft. "will you let me make you feel good, hm? can i?"

you felt him take a deep breath against your chest. "please, sweetheart," he rasped. "please, need you, so bad."

"yeah?" you asked, shifting up and off of him, now kneeling beside his lap. "can i touch you?"

he nodded, and the heat in his eyes burned you. "please."

you reached a delicate hand forward, palmed his cock over his clothes, gentle, found him so hard and hot, while he hissed at first contact. "makin' me wait so long, baby, and you've been needin' me, too?" you teased, a soft grin on your swollen lips as you pulled him out fully, ran your hand along the length of him.

"'m sorry, sweetheart," he breathed, and it seemed funny, apologizing, then. "just wanted t'do the right thing."

you hummed, pumped him up and down, slowly, spit onto his length, kept going. "right thing, hm?" he nodded. "didn't feel right to me, baby," you said, picking up your pace, your grip wet and firm. he huffed, and his thighs tensed. "know what feels right?"

"what?" he asked, eyes pleading, practically spellbound by you, your steady stream of words, so different from him, rendered basically speechless.

"your cock in my hand," you answered, and of all things, he blushed. you bit your lip, because you had a feeling your word choice was the reason. you were pretty sure that, despite the circumstances, the thing that had your clean-tongued prince flustered was your dirty mouth. you pulled your touch away, let his eager hands help you out of his button down, your shirt underneath.

when you looked at him again, he was looking at you, already, with a galaxy in his eyes.

"what?" you asked, your mouth quirking up.

he laughed, lightly, shook his head. "just so pretty, sweetheart," he said, "just so, so pretty."

you scrunched up your face, but didn't hide your delighted smile as you went to kiss him on the jaw, hoisting your leg up and over him until you hovered above his lap. "pretty enough to fuck?" you asked, against his neck, right by his ear, and you smiled at the jolt of his hips, the shake of his breath. "tell me."

his hand braced the back of your neck, gave the softest rumble of a laugh, like whatever he was about to say was above him, like it was incomprehensible. "can i fuck you, trouble?" he asked, and you laughed, too, because the curse sounded so foreign on his lips.

it was something lovely to be laughing, with someone you trusted wholly, like this. with someone who thought, all that time ago, that you were a princess.

"watch your mouth, joey," you teased, giving him a false look of depravity as you reached under you, gripped him again, angled his cock to your core.

"such a," he began, his breath hitching when you began to sink down on him, "such a bad influence."

you groaned at the stretch as you pushed yourself down further, felt the burn of it in your throat, in your toes. you sucked on your teeth, had to close your eyes for a second as you clung to his neck for support.

finally, all the way in, you stayed still for a moment, adjusting, letting him adjust to you.

"this okay?" you whispered into his shoulder.

there was a pause. "you're perfect," he said, so genuinely it hurt. "feel so good, sweetheart."

you smiled. "can i move, baby?" he surprised you, then, answering you by gripping you harder and angling his hips up into you, slow and deep. you groaned at the sensation, fluttering in your stomach. "so good, joey," you breathed, then smiled, your tone turning devious when his other hand rooted in your hair, hard, steady. "fast learner, hm?" you asked, "already know what i like?"

his pace stuttered, but you met him thrust for thrust, up and down. "show me," he said, almost whiny, a slight sheen on the high points of his face, a flush on his neck and nose. "show me what you like, sweetheart." his eyes flooded with meaning. "want this t'be good for you, hm?"

your chest could have cracked open, because you couldn't remember the last time someone had wanted that, never mind voiced it to you. who would you be to deny him that?

you kissed his shoulder, showed him just how hard to tug at your hair. "you're so good to me, baby," you said, "too good to me, yeah?" you placed your palm over his hand, on your hip, moved it to your clit, showed him how to touch you. the friction made you clench around him, forcing a whimper from your mouth, a throaty groan from his as you both picked up your pace.

time didn't feel real, you supposed it never had, in this room. it had seemed irrelevant when you were working on mechanics problems for physics while he drafted papers for eastern european history, and it seemed irrelevant now, too.

for seconds or minutes or months, you felt yourself spiraling closer and closer, heat building inside of you as his thrusts grew jerky, as his breathing heaved, as the friction of his hand against your clit made you delirious.

your thighs felt hot with exertion as you moaned. "gonna make me cum, joey," you said, at some point, dreamy, "so deep inside of me, baby, feel you here." you placed a palm on your lower stomach to show him, pushed down, relished in the pressurized sensation.

"'m so close," he breathed, "so perfect, sweetheart, right there."

"fuck, let me have it," you pleaded, so warm and wet around him. "want it so bad, baby, let me feel you. let me take it."

he came apart at your words, his muscles tensing abruptly under your palms as his orgasm triggered your own, so sudden and staggering you swore your teeth were chattering. your head collapsed onto his shoulder as your eyes squeezed shut and he wrapped his arms around your back, holding you tight against his chest.

his shoulder was just barely damp with sweat under your cheek, and the air felt humid, heavy, like you could cup it in a palm.

when you opened your eyes, your flighty gaze caught on something shiny, just next to his desk, which had been taken over with completed lego sets. hanging on his open closet door was his tiara, you realized, from all those months ago. from before all the friendship and pining and making kingdoms out of bedroom floors.

it was sort of funny, how something like a cheap plastic crown could mean so much. if he hadn't worn it, what then? would any of this have even happened? if you hadn't reached up to straighten him out? hadn't made some joke about not being able to?

you laughed into him, and you could hear his smile. "what?" he rasped, making you look up at him. he looked straight out of a classical art museum, some kind of angel in acrylic, painted by a god-fearing sinner, all blushy cheeks and big, forgiving eyes, corded shoulders and lips wet with spit.

you massaged the back of his shoulders with a careful hand. "remember when you thought i was a princess?" you mused, the memory at the front of your mind.

"'course," he said. "most beautiful girl i'd ever seen."

you closed your eyes, exhaled, opened them again. "i was dressed as a wench," you said, but the joking tone you'd aimed for sounded dumb, following his honest confession.

he just smiled, a sliver of perfect teeth through pink lips. "don't know, trouble," he said, "pretty sure i know i princess when i see one. i was a prince, after all."

you hit him lightly on the chest, laughed. "i guess you know what you're talking about then, hm?"

he hummed. "oh, yeah," he confirmed, rubbing circles with his thumb into your lower back, "'specially when i'm talking about you."

and you thought, for the first time in a while, that maybe, to have someone talk about you wouldn't be a bad thing. that, perhaps, to have this somebody talk about you would be something quite special.

tomorrow, it would be daylight, and it would be busy, and the world would speed up again. tomorrow, benji would be late, of course, and bobby would mess up the chords to the interlude, and jenny would absolutely nail her first lead role. tomorrow, matt and simon would make a bunch of crude jokes and benji's freshman would give him a fruit basket to thank him for his leadership, and the theatre director would cry, because of how wonderful the production went.

tomorrow, a lot would happen.

but, tonight, there was just the boring prince of legos and piano keys, holding the unbecoming princess of bedpost notches and pleats. tonight, they resided over the kingdom of bad influence and embarrassed flushes.

and tonight, the kingdom was finally quiet.

fin.

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