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aeyumicore · 2 months

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☾ .⭒˚ business trip ♡ zayne x afab reader

⋆.˚ ☾ pairing: zayne x afab!reader (very fem!reader)

☾ .⭒˚ genre: smut, pwp, pwf

⋆.˚ ☾ word count: 6.7k (good lord)

☾ .⭒˚ content warning: mdni, tiny reference/spoiler to lore, explicit sexual content, pure pure filth, dubcon if you squint really really really hard, size kink, unprotected sex, breeding kink, oral sex (f!receiving), lots of making out, finger fucking, tongue fucking, cum as lube, finger sucking, choking, slight inappropriate use of evol, slight use of y/n, dom!zayne

⋆.˚ ☾ video link: not necessary to watch in order to read and enjoy, but i highly recommending watching the memory for context and a visual for the fic! https://youtu.be/JAQ22yAhnUI?si=bfOLaJ-byJMyT9Vn

☾ .⭒˚ a/n: as promised she is here! this is based of the five-star card ‘business trip.’ a lot of the initial dialogue is from that card's story, with some small changes. this contains very tiny spoilers/references to some of the lore (honestly not really, if you’re reading this you’re probably addicted to the game enough to know the reference).

this is my very first finished fan fic/smut! i’m used to writing research papers and lab reports, so i am still learning to write fiction/dialogue! please be kind :) also fun fact i was writing this in first person but then decided to switch to second person so if there’s any stray grammar errors i apologize lol search and replace is so wonky

if you can’t tell i am absolutely feral for zayne and need to thirst for him with fellow zayne simps. my dumbass cannot write porn without a shit ton of plot/feelings. hope you enjoy!!

⋆.˚ ☾ 18+ only ☾ .⭒˚ minors dni ⋆.˚ ☾ 18+ only ☾ .⭒˚ minors dni ⋆.˚ ☾

people who didn’t know zayne would assume that he was a cold person, and you couldn't really blame them. as a world renowned cardiac surgeon, and the chief cardiac surgeon of a massive metropolitan hospital, he had become an expert at control, especially that of his emotions. he let the world know only what he wanted them to know, and he was extremely selective about who he let truly know him.

having been zayne’s girlfriend for a few months now, you had the privilege of being on the receiving end of his rare affections. and while he was undeniably blunt and straightforward, you knew he was anything but cold. under the winter blizzard that was his exterior, zayne was warmer than the summer sun.

but despite being intimately familiar with zayne’s affections, you couldn’t help but be disappointed when he picked you up from the train station returning home from your ten day mission. after months of dating, you were no stranger to the cardiac surgeon’s distaste of pda and need for professionalism, but after ten days apart you couldn’t help but be disheartened by his nonchalance when picking you up.

so when he put on a random movie and sat on your couch, you couldn’t help but pout and prop your knees up to your chest on the seat cushion next to him.

“do you have a question for me, zayne?” you rested your head on your left hand that was leaning up on the sofa back. his face snapped to yours from the tv screen, eyes lighting up with amusement. they bore straight into your own, making you want to squirm in your seat. even without touching you, zayne was always able to make your blood heat and your skin singe.

“what do you mean?” his tone held the faintest trace of humor and you had a feeling he knew exactly what you meant but wanted to hear you say the words.

feeling emboldened by his teasing obliviousness, you deftly swung one of your legs over his lap, and effectively straddled him on the couch. his hands instinctively gravitated to gently rest on the plush of your hips. you squeaked in surprise at the feel of his ice cold hands against your exposed waist, your shirt having ridden up. you could feel the distinct outline of something you’d terribly missed on your time away, and it made you harshly bite your lip to suppress the sounds your body tried to force out of your mouth.

the corner of his lips raised at you, the faint ghost of a smirk gracing his face. he murmurs softly, his voice sending shivers straight down your spine while his fingers danced down with it, “how was your trip? was it okay?”

still sulking, you whined, “not at first. after all, i could always see you whenever i wanted to.” your hands softly ran down the smooth fabric of his suit vest, drifting over his expensive tie, “then slowly i got used to it.” you shifted in his lap, intentionally grinding gently, hoping to provoke any sort of reaction from him. you needed him to be as affected by you as you were by him.

“got used to being alone again? right?” besides his growing erection, he was as calm and collected as always. in your frustration at his nonchalance, you missed the little signs of zayne losing the tight grip he always had on his control. his grip tightening ever so slightly on your hips, the brief but sharp intake of his breath, his jaw slackening gently as he bit the inside of his cheek.

exasperated, you climbed off his lap and settled back into your seat beside him. with zayne, it could often be difficult to tell when he was teasing or genuinely oblivious. and your own frustrations were clouding your perception to any of the little indicators that he was anything but in complete control of the situation.

“sure, but it’s not…” you trailed off feeling embarrassed, eyes falling to your hands on your lap. maybe you were being too needy?

gripping your chin in his thumb and index finger, he lifted your head to meet his deep green eyes again, “indeed, it’ll become dull regardless.” the unmistakable sound of need in his voice as his piercing eyes locked yours in place was beginning to utterly derail your thoughts.

you cover his eyes with both your hands, unable to stand his intense stare, “you’ve been staring at me.”

“but i can’t see you like this,” the amusement in his voice is undeniable.

“shhh. that’s the point.”

gently, he pries your hands off his face without much resistance, “let me see you.” his eyes once again found yours, holding bits of amusement, adoration, and hunger. you averted your eyes and childishly stuck your tongue out at him.

“you wanted me to say something?” the teasing in his voice transparent as glass.

unable to contain yourself any longer, you whine, “why did you act so normally at the train station? i was disappointed.” craving his skin on yours, you reach your right hand out to gently brush your fingers over his lips. he wraps his much larger hand over yours and moves it to cup his cheek. turning his head ever so slightly, his lips ghost the inside of your palm with a delicate kiss.

when he finally speaks, his voice has dropped to an octave that sends waves of pure primal pleasure coursing straight down to your core, “what did you want me to do in front of all those people?”

biting back the shiver threatening to unleash through your body, you continue with your petulant ramblings, “we haven’t seen each other for a few days. didn’t you miss or worry about me?”

“the weather was nice there and you responded to all my text messages. so you must have been fine,” he gently plays with your hand, still enclosed in his. “now tell me, is there something you want to tell me?”

you could tell zayne knew exactly what you wanted to say and what you wanted him to say. but ever the tease, he wanted you to say it aloud.

“tell me what you want,” he’d always demand with his lengthy slender fingers stuffed deep inside you, thumb pressing harshly on your clit. forcing you to say the words.

“i…missed you,” you confess through hooded eyelids, only daring to peer up at him through your eyelashes. your own daydreams were causing a dampening puddle to form at the apex of your legs which you squeezed shut tightly, embarrassed at how eager you were for him.

in a flash, his hand released yours to snatch the remote off the coffee table and shut the movie off, turning to face you again. his sudden movement snapped you out of your filthy reminiscing, “why did you turn off the tv?”

forcefully, he cups the back of your neck, entangling his fingers in your hair, pulling you closer until his face is a mere inch from yours, eyes glancing fleetingly to your lips. you could feel his minty breath against your lips and it made you unleash the uncontrollable shiver you’d been suppressing, “are we really here for a movie?”

breathlessly and defiantly, you pushed him further, “isn’t that what you wanted?” your hands gripped his bicep, reveling in the taut bundle of muscles that you’d imagined far too many times on your trip, taking you so forcefully every night prior.

“i’ve changed my mind now. is that okay?” and with that zayne closes the short distance between the two of you, capturing your lips with his.

you couldn’t help but moan at the feel of his icy lips on yours after far too long, far too many lonely nights. he greedily swallowed it, hands moving to tangle deeper in your hair. zayne’s lips were always a pleasant blend of winter ice but also a home-like warmth, the feeling absolutely addicting. a feeling reserved just for you.

zayne pushed you down softly, until your back met the cushioned sofa. he parted your thighs and settled between them, hovering above you.

“such a brat. did you want me to take you like this in front of everyone at the station?” he murmured, hands leaving you to loosen his tie. the unbelievably erotic sight had your knees weakening, the dampness between your legs intensifying. they instinctively clenched at the feeling, which zayne noticed immediately, evident by his satisfied smirk.

“tell me how much you missed me,” he demanded softly and firmly as his hands found their way under your shirt, teasing the skin of your naval and dancing up just below the swell of your breasts. his cold touch pulled a needy whimper from you and your pelvis arched up seeking any kind of friction against his body. zaynes actions fried your brain, rendering it nearly impossible for you to process what he was asking of you.

suddenly his hands abandoned your chest and he raised his hips so your bodies no longer touched, to your dismay. the loss in friction had you whimpering pathetically for him. instead, his hand made its way to your mouth and his thumb pressed into the parting of your lips, “answer me.”

“wh-what? what did you ask?” you panted dumbly, tongue intentionally grazing his thumb and savoring the salty taste of his frosty skin. you could see his erection growing against the restraint of his slacks at the feel of your tongue eagerly tasting him.

using his free hand, he ghosted it against your jeans covered cunt, just barely catching on your clit. squeezing your eyes shut, you gasped and hoped he couldn’t feel how embarrassingly wet you already were for him, despite him only just having touched you. his touch was light and fleeting, just enough to leave you starving for more.

his thumb, still in your mouth, pressed down firmly on your tongue. this time, he asked more forcefully, “tell me how much you missed me baby.” his domineering attitude short circuited your brain and once again all you could do was moan and thrust into his hand. zayne, dissatisfied with your repeated lack of response, pinched your clit, roughly enough to snap you back into reality and leave you panting for more. the truth came tumbling out so fast you had no time to be ashamed at how desperate he’d made you.

“s’much, i missed you so much zaayne,” you slurred, unable to articulate your words through the lust, “thought ‘bout you ev’ry night.” you reached up to run your fingers through the dampening black bangs that rested against his eyes. “missed you s’much zayne. need you s’bad.”

his gorgeous green eyes darkened and he shut them, “fuck.”

satisfied with your begging, he bent down to capture your lips with his once more, pressing his erection against your heat, grinding torturously slowly. his tongue swiped across your bottom lip, demanding access to what was his. you happily granted him entrance, enjoying the feel of his tongue against yours. enjoying the taste of him so intimately close to you.

he pulled away, groaning, “do you want to know why i acted so normally when i saw you at the train station?” you whined at him pulling away, having thoroughly gotten over your previous brattiness and just wanting nothing more than him to utterly devour you. you reached your hand up to cup his cheek again, trying to guide his lips back to yours and shut him up. you continued to grind into his erection, rutting needily into his crotch, completely and utterly desperate for him. you were at the point of no return, and not even your own embarrassingly unabashed horniness could shame you into stopping.

instead, he affectionately leans into your hand and shuts his eyes, like a cat purring into a palm. the pure adoration mixed with the fiery sexual tension enveloping the air surrounding you was absolutely suffocating. and you were positively addicted.

he put his hand over yours, holding it lovingly against his cheek, “even in front of all those people, i knew once i saw you again–” he brought your joined palms to his lips and grazed a fleeting kiss against your skin, then released your hand.

continuing, “if i touched you again after all that time –” he bent down over you to gently graze his teeth against your racing pulse, suckling and nibbling carefully while his other hand cupped your sex again to which you eagerly ground into. his long slender fingers teased your slit, paying special attention to your aching clit.

he continued his ministrations on your pussy, his breathy rasps right next to your ear, “i knew i wouldn’t be able to stop.”

his words snapped the coil that had been building in your core from the moment your eyes landed at him at the train station. you whined as your thighs trembled to a halt against his fingers. the culmination of it all, missing him terribly for ten days, the feel of his perfect body pressed against yours, the incessant teasing, but especially his confession, led to your quick unraveling. covering your eyes in sheer embarrassment, you came against his hand, still completely dressed.

zayne peered down at his soaked hand, voice low, vaguely amused, and unbelievably turned on, “did you just cum, love?”

embarrassed, hands still covering your reddening face, you wailed, “y-yes..i’m sorry!”

“don’t hide from me y/n,” his fingers, covered in your slick, pried your hands away from your eyes. “did my little brat miss me that much? she’s so eager for me she came just from humping my hand huh?”

you nodded enthusiastically, despite the sheer embarrassment, determined to please the man before you, “missed you more than anything. needed you s’bad. haven’t felt you inside me in s’long.” he swore lowly under his breath, barely audible, his control slipping.

“i’m sorry for not behaving the way you expected at the train station, my love,” he rose away from you, undoing his loosened tie. “let me show you how much i missed you.” his words unleashed butterflies in your stomach as you watched him shed his clothing, layer by layer. zayne was truly something sculpted out of legends. as his long fingers expertly unbuttoned his white collared shirt you pressed your palm against his hard stomach and murmured, “wait let’s go to my bed.”

but he didn’t stop, instead arching his eyebrow at you, “did you think i was joking?”

your eyes snapped away from the contours of his abs leading to the dusting of his pubic hair, not at all able to follow what he was talking about. “s-sorry?”

he chuckled, finally shedding his expensive white shirt somewhere on your apartment floor. he crawled back to hover over you and deftly removed your bottoms and panties, then spreading your thighs apart and using his own leg to keep them propped open.

“we’ve already started, and i won’t be able to stop any time soon.”

you shivered at his words and hooked your arms around his neck, pressing your lips against his. the kiss was bruisingly passionate and messy, his tongue exploring all the places he longed for the past week and a half. with one hand he gripped your hair, and with the other he skillfully unhooked your bra and caressed your nipple with his fingertips. you whimpered into his mouth as he played with your body in ways only he knew would have you completely ruined. wanting to please him too, you reached your hand down to release his cock from its confines and grasp it in your hand. it stood completely rock hard against his naval, his prominent vein bulging and throbbing in your hand. because of zayne’s evol, he always ran very cold. his skin was often icy to the touch, but his manhood always burned your palms, blazing so deliciously hot.

you held it tight in your hand, jerking up and down gently but forcefully. teasing the underside of the head with your thumb, you briefly panicked at how he would fit inside you after so many days not being stretched to accommodate him. his manhood was like him in every way: intimidating, imposing, and glorious.

zayne pulled away from your lips, burying his face into the crook of your neck and biting into the soft skin there. the most erotic groans spilled out of his lips against you, but his hand gripped your fist halting your movements. through gritted teeth, he seethed, “stop.”

scared you’d hurt him, you instantly snatched your hand away. he noticed the guilt on your face and half-smiled reassuringly, “i was about to finish all over your pretty little stomach from just your hands. this is how much i’ve missed you.” the more he spoke, the more your next orgasm was building, your body aching for his with every filthy word he uttered.

his hands gripped the small of your back and lifted you slightly, giving him access to remove your top and unlatched bra. his eyes hungrily roamed all over your body until they settled on your eyes, “you are the most beautiful thing i will ever set eyes on, in all my lives.”

your head tilted, intrigued by his choice of words, “all your lives? have you discovered the secret of reincarnation, dr. zayne?.” zayne chuckled, but did not respond, instead kneeling completely naked and god-like before you and you couldn’t help but beg, “p-please zayne.”

he smirked, confident as ever, hands reaching down to ghost right above your pussy, hovering so close but not touching, “please what, baby? use your words, you can do that for me, right?'”

you bit your lip, trying to grind your crotch into his hand, whining when he shifted to dodge your advances.

“tell me what you want.”

unable to take the teasing any further, “p-please jus’ touch me, anything, please.”

“my girl is so damn needy.” finally he sets his fingers against your soaking slit, slipping his lengthy middle finger in. throwing your head back, you moaned arching your back off the couch, rutting into his digit.

“so desperate for me,” he practically purred, pumping his single finger in and out, “did you have to use your own fingers when you were away?”

“y-yess thought of you every time,” you moaned, “p-please, more.” you shrieked in pure ecstasy as you felt his lips find your sensitive nipple while simultaneously inserting his index finger.

zayne has always been hyper fixated on your breasts. the way the skin pebbled under his touch, the way the plush fat felt underneath the massage of his palms, but mostly the way you writhed under the lathering of his tongue. while his fingers forked in and out of you, his tongue swirled dizzying circles around the peak of your breasts. he nibbles, gentle but still enough to make you yelp. you can feel his smile against your skin as he suckles soothingly. he alternates between the two, never wanting to leave the other one neglected. your pleasure is the most important thing to him, a job he takes seriously. only when you’re a squirming whimpering mess does he feel satisfied.

pleased with his work, he detached from your chest, trailing down further. he leaves a path of kisses down your torso until he finds himself facing his main course. as he admires your throbbing cunt, his fingers still scissoring in and out of it, his tongue swipes against his lips. the hunger in his eyes is evident, as if pondering all the different ways he could devour you. finally, he graces your pussy with his attentive lips, wrapping around your clit and just barely grazing with his teeth.

zayne ate like a man positively starved, his tongue working magic on your body. he suckled diligently on the bud, making the filthiest slurping noises. your toes curled, resting on his broad hard shoulders, and your thighs clenched around his jaw. with his free hand, he sought your nipple out, pinching gently against the pebbled skin, ravishing absolutely every inch of your body. he shifted downwards until his tongue was inside you, his nose rubbing against your clit delivering such relentless mind-numbing pleasure. his tongue fucked you earnestly and through the blood pounding in your ears you could hear him moaning at the taste of your juices, dripping down his chin.

zayne inserts his fingers again, tongue going back to lap diligently at your clit, “you can take another one cant you?” he grunted against your most sensitive region, his breath a warm caress.

you sat up weakly on your elbows, absolutely winded from the blinding pleasure but determined to keep up with him, “i can! i can!”

“that’s my girl.” he inserts another finger, stuffing you completely full. moaning unabashedly, you latched onto his hair and fucked yourself onto his fingers. “you taste so fucking good. couldn’t stop thinking about you, spread out for just me, while you were gone.” his filthy words went straight to your core and you felt your next orgasm building at an alarming rate.

“zayne zayne zayne,” you chanted, completely fucked out, “please d-don’ stop.” his fingers quickened inside you, the lewd wet sounds of his fingers pounding against your skin filling the room. while keeping himself buried inside you, he shifted on top of you until his face was right in front of yours, eyes gazing into you deeply. zayne crashed his lips onto yours once more, forcing his tongue in, claiming every part of you. not that you objected at all.

his kiss was so unbelievably filled with need, showing you just how much he had missed you. his entire mouth tasted of you, lips so wet from a mix of your spend and his saliva. the passion of it all was enough to send you reeling towards your second orgasm. nails digging into his bicep, you tried to warn him that you were just about to come undone all over his hand. with his three fingers stuffed in you, he used his thumb to rub harsh circles on your clit, sending you reeling over the cliff of pleasure

“that’s it, juust like that baby. cum for me,” he cooed. you were a babbling slurring mess as you trembled on his fingers, releasing all over his hand. he continued to gently pump in and out of you, helping you ride out the waves of your orgasm. you fought to stay conscious as the overwhelming pleasure of two climaxes bled into the sting of overstimulation.

weakly swatting at his hand still inside your puffy cunt, “s’too much zayne. s’too sensitive.” he finally removed his hand, the sudden emptiness drawing a gasp from your lips. zayne brought his absolutely drenched fingers to his mouth, devouring your slick off of them.

“absolutely perfect,” he groaned, removing them and gripping the underside of your thighs. in one swift motion he pulled hard and had you pushed up against his own body, your rear end elevated to brush right up against his hard body, his unbelievably erect cock.

tapping his member against your sopping cunt he gave you a lopsided smile, “you still with me love?”

you sat up, unable to take your eyes off of where zayne’s body would connect with yours. following your eyes, he takes his manhood in his hand and teases it up and down, “i expect an answer when i speak to you y/n.”

your mind was mush and your body was still staggering from the sheer amount of pleasure zayne had just given you, but you knew you needed more. you needed him and you needed him inside you.

peering into his eyes from underneath your eyelashes, you mewled, “z-zaayne. i need you. i can’t wait any more”

he swore under his breath, his voice a deep sensual rasp, “so damn eager for me. don’t worry, you will have me, many many times tonight.” you shivered at his words, a hard and fast promise, as he lined up his cock with your entrance.

“two of ten,” he muttered under his breath, teasing his head against your clit, causing your body to tremble uncontrollably as he smeared your combined arousals all over your cunt, better than any medical grade lube. zayne always had so much pre cum from edging himself, always putting your pleasure above anything else, before himself.

“ten what?”

a heart stopping cocky smirk graced his beautiful pale face, “you’ve been gone for ten days. i fully intend to make up for every single day tonight.” the full weight of what he was implying clicked and your eyes widened.

“th-there’s no way!”

“isn’t this what you wanted? for me to show you how much i missed you?” he gave your pussy one last stern tap with his length, evoking a squeal from your lips as you squeezed your eyes tightly shut in anticipation.

“i told you once i started i wouldn’t be able to stop.” and without waiting for you to protest further, zayne softly breached into your warm and waiting hole. you moaned in surprise at the massive stretch. the only reason he could enter you at all was because he had thoroughly prepped you with the two previous orgasms. the pain ebbed pleasure was undeniable as zayne stretched your body to the max. when you looked to see where his body was joined with yours, you gaped. he’d only managed to get his tip in.

zayne fell forward slightly, gripping the underside of your thighs with a bruising intensity. his jaw was locked and he panted out, “please love, relax. relax for me. you’re squeezing me so fucking tight.”

“i’m tryin’, jus’ so big,” you whined, hands finding purchase in his soft hair. you took a deep breath, trying to loosen up, staring into his smoldering eyes while he pushed further into your guts.

“that’s it, such a good little slut for me. always so obedient,” he cooed, slowly but surely seating himself fully in your cunt. after ten days without him inside, it felt like losing your virginity all over again. but every single word he muttered went straight to the wet mess in between your joined bodies, helping to overcome the resistance.

the initial pace he set was torturously slow and passionate, his eyes only leaving yours when he threw his head back to groan deeply, as if unable to contain himself while he was inside you. any inklings of pain quickly dissolved into pure pleasure as his thick length burrowed deep inside. you watched zayne bask in the unstoppable stream of sounds that escaped your mouth, his body always taking yours in the most delicious ways. any embarrassment you previously felt went out the window as you made the most lewd and filthy cries for him.

hooking your legs around his waist, you felt him brush against your cervix with his tip and realized even fully buried inside you, zayne’s length was not completely burrowed in your pussy. the sheer size of him made you clench around his thrusts, throbbing in ecstasy as he ravished your body.

“so damn tight,” he groaned, the pace and force of his thrusts increasing, “gonna have to stretch you back out tonight, all night.” his thumb rubbed figure eights around your clit while you held onto your breasts for support as they bounced wildly from the growing intensity of his movements. the sight seemed to please him as he grunted and reached one of his hands to release your thigh and take a breast into his own hand, teasing the nipple between his finger tips.

somehow even in your utterly fucked out state you were able able to moan out, “s’deep s’deep sooo good. please don’t stop. missed this s’much.”

the hand on your breast ventured upwards to gently close around your throat, with just enough pressure to leave you gasping in bliss, tears forming in the corners of your eyes. his fingers pressed into your pulse, “taking me so well. this pussy was made for me, huh?”

a stray tear of pure pleasure slipped from your eyes. zayne released your neck and swipes his thumb across your cheek, wiping away the fallen tear, “answer me y/n. who does this pussy belong to?”

“b-belongs t’you zayne,” you slurred, “allll yours, always.”

pleased, zayne folds your thighs into your chest, until your knees are nearly touching your breasts. planting one foot on the seat of the couch, he begins thrusting with an entirely new vigor. the new angle allows him even deeper, cock brushing against all your deepest, favorite places. drool dribbled from the side of your mouth as you cried out repeatedly in pleasure. his body was so satisfyingly heavy, imposing, and large against yours, a stark reminder of the sheer size difference between you.

he shoved his hand between your two bodies to rest on your stomach, pressing down, “can you feel how deep i am love? can you feel me here?”

frankly, you could feel him in your damn throat, “y-yes zayne, feel it s’deep. makin’ me feel so goood. please don’t stop.”

“don’t worry, don’t plan on ever stopping.” his promises drove you ever so close to your climax. you moaned, back arching off the couch so sharply that you were almost levitating. zayne took this opportunity to wrap his two large hands around your waist, hoisting you off the couch leaving you squealing as he picked you up like a rag doll, seating you back on his lap, a mixture of your arousals moistening your thighs. his cock sat tall against your stomach and you longed to be stuffed again.

“look at the mess you made,” he murmured, eyes trailing to the space you sat completely exposed on him. with one palm gripping your ass, he slid his other between you to collect your collective slick on his fingers and shove it gently back into you. you yelped but took this opportunity to lift yourself onto your knees and take his cock into your hands. zayne watched you with amused eyes allowing you to take control, if only for a brief moment, before regaining it. a creature of habit, zayne loved control. in the hospital, the operating room, and especially in the bedroom. or well the living room.

you impaled yourself on his length once more, a gasping and groaning mess every inch of the way. he kneaded the plush of your ass adoringly, trying to soothe the pain from the stretch. in this position, zayne reached the deepest inside you, literally rearranging your guts. using your fleeting strength, you began bouncing up and down on him, his strong hands on your rear guiding you along, but letting you do the work. the corner of his lips were slightly quirked up as he watched you struggle to keep up any semblance of rhythm or pace.

“does my needy girl need my assistance?”

determined to wipe the smug smirk off his unfairly handsome face, you shook your head vehemently and only rode him more vigorously. but as his cock continued to spear in and out of you, the overwhelming pleasure in your gut and the burning in your thighs took hold and your knees gave out. you slumped your head breathlessly against his hard chest, as he chuckled and planted a kiss against the top of your head.

“don’t worry sweetheart, i’ve got you. let me take care of you.” with the help of his strong hands, he bounced you on his lap. his large muscular thighs flexed underneath you as your eyes rolled back. hours upon hours of surgeries honed zayne’s endurance and he bobbed you up and down like you weighed nothing at all. sitting on his lap like this, your abdomen was pushed right against his, your clit rubbing along his pelvis and your nipples dragged along his chest with each sinful thrust.

“eyes on me,” he commanded, his grip on your ass tightening enough to leave marks. in your fucked out state you force your eyes to focus on his, as his cock continues to deliver you unimaginable pleasure. with his eyes locked on yours, zayne lets out a deep breathy moan and murmurs, “i missed you so much y/n.”

your heart swells, your stomach clenches and you knew you loved this man. the butterflies in your stomach must have manifested in your pussy clenching around zayne’s shaft, hard. he hisses, but before he can speak you take his face in both your hands and press your mouth to his, swallowing his moans.

the feel of his tongue claiming every inch of your mouth pushes you towards your third orgasm. your lips separate, a string of drool connecting them still, as zayne hammers into you. you drape your arms over his shoulders, clinging on while he pounds into your abused hole. your clit continues to brush against his slick soaked pubic hair and has you seeing actual stars.

he bent down to capture your nipple with his mouth, absolutely devouring it. squealing, you arched into his mouth as your fingers clawed deep welts into his back while he ravished your breasts. he continued to bounce you on his lap, pace never faltering.

“m’close,” you warn over the erotic wet ‘pap pap pap’ sounds between you, “g’nna cum soon.”

“yeah? cum on me baby. need to feel you all over my cock,” his thrusts continue to hit your sweet spot and you feel as if you’re about to explode. at his command, you barrelled through your orgasm, digging your nails into his toned back. the pleasure was immeasurable as it coursed through every centimeter of your body. your head felt dizzy, toes curled, fingers clenched, nipples hardened further against him, and every nerve in your body sang for him. you wailed as he helped you ride out your orgasm, prolonging it as long as possible, still chasing his own pleasure.

“that’s it love. make a mess all over me,” the over stimulation was starting to kick in again as zayne’s thighs and hands continued to rock you on his cock.

“p-perfect, you’re so fucking perfect. do you know how many times i fucked my fist, thinking of this, while you were gone?” zayne was babbling now, and his cock was twitching persistently inside you. you could tell he was going to cum soon too. you held on for dear life as you willed yourself to withstand the overstimulation, wanting zayne to find release with you. it slowly ebbed into an addicting painful pleasure, making you uncontrollably squeeze your aching cunt around his throbbing cock.

“f-fuck squeezing the soul out of me. i’m gonna cum,” he groaned into the crook of your neck.

“cum for me zayne i wan’ it so so bad you n-need it please. need your cum so bad,” you whined, squeezing your eyes shut feeling another orgasm approaching so so unbelievably fast.

just like he had before, he gripped your chin with one of his hands, “look at me. i need to see you when i cum.” you forced your eyes open and watched as he stared at you with such intense lust, need, and love.

“where do you want me?” he grunted, his thrusts stumbling and you could tell he was finally at the precipice of his own orgasm.

“i-inside please cum inside me zaayne, i need you s’bad. need t’feel it deep,” you sobbed, your cunt tightening around him as you were about cum again.

“you want me to fill you up baby? stuff you full of my cum? what if i get you pregnant?” you clenched in excitement at the vague warning of his words. without fail, zayne noticed.

“my girl likes that idea huh? want me to breed this pretty little cunt? put my baby in you?” he was practically rabid now, the force of his bouncing rattling your brain, his words turning your body into putty in his hands. tears of overwhelming pleasure filled your eyes at his filthy promises and you could only peer at him through your wet eyelashes and nod eagerly, with your tongue almost lolling out of your mouth.

zayne cursed under his breath at the look you were giving him. he knew he could never deny you, not that he’d wanted to, especially not when you looked at him like that. he would spend his entire life, every one of his lives, loving you, taking care of you, protecting you, pleasuring you, if you’d allow him.

as he watched the drool dribble down your chin, he thrust one last time, the brute force of it dragging the orgasm out of you while he spurted his release deep inside your womb. you were screaming, crying as the intensity of your last three orgasms made your body even more reactive to his cum painting your walls white. the culmination of it all had you squirting all over your joined laps.

zayne watched in awe as you made an utter mess on his lap, his grip on your hips tightened and an icy frost formed on the top of your soft skin, under his palms. the alarming cold only served to increase the ecstasy of your climax. he didn’t seem to notice as the beautiful snowflake etched frost danced up your waist. yet you felt anything but cold as his hands held you against him.

the aftershocks of your final orgasm caused your pussy to continue to throb around him, milking anything he had left. zayne was a moaning and panting mess when he finally noticed that he was losing control of his evol, the glimmering crystals weaving up higher up your sides.

“shit, i’m sorry love,” he swore, pulling his hands away. you whimpered, not caring in the slightest, just wanting his touch back as you slumped against his hard chest, panting for air, body completely and thoroughly ruined. he took deep breaths to regain control of his evol, watching the iridescent flakes on your waist melt away as quickly as they’d come. as they faded completely, you shivered against him, cunt still quivering around him, draining every last drop of his seed into you. zayne wrapped his strong arms around you, cradling you gently, making sure his evol was properly contained before relaxing into your delicate body.

you must have drifted off briefly because the next thing you knew zayne was placing you gently on your plush bed sheets, the sweat and slick cleaned off your skin. despite the brutal pounding your pussy had taken, you could hardly feel any soreness. no doubt thanks to zayne’s tendencies to care for you like a little injured duckling, even outside of the hospital.

“you’re the best primary care provider, dr. zayne,” you murmured happily, nuzzling into his strong forearm, as he set you down on the bed. he chuckled, sounding not the least bit tired, sitting down on the empty space beside you.

“at home, you take care of me. at the hospital, you take care of me. how’d i get so luck to have a doctor like you?,” you rambled, utterly content. he continued to laugh, leaning over so he could stroke slow soothing circles on your naked stomach.

“i will always take care of you,” his gleaming green eyes beam at you, while the rest of his face remains calm, collected. and then he slowly smirks, “especially in the bedroom.”

you blush furiously, your thighs clenching together again, his eyes never leaving yours. the circles he rubs into your skin inch slowly up, up, up until they’re caressing your breasts, again.

“zaayne, there’s no way,” you whine, your thighs trembling at the sight of heat returning to his eyes. but despite your protests your core quivers in anticipation and you can't bring yourself to swat his hands away. he slowly crawls on your bed, into, in his opinion, his rightful place between your legs.

“we’re only 40% of the way done love, and as a surgeon i must always complete what i start,” he murmurs mischievously, hands gripping your knees, prying apart gently, slowly.

“y-you can’t be serious!”

“please? i missed you, y/n.”

feeling how your body reacted so eagerly to those three words, the words you wanted to hear him say so desperately at the train station, you knew you were in for a very long night.

tag list: @bitchykittenconnoisseur

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sluts4matt · 1 month

Text

DISTRACTION

pairing: rough!dom chris x sub!reader

summary: the two of you had been best friends for years. right after you get out of a bad relationship, chris is the first to be of distraction.

warnings: SMUT, mentions of a toxic relationship, swearing, making out, oral (female revieving), fingering, pet names (lots of the use of ma), praising, degrading, p in v, dumbification, dacryphilia, spanking, choking, hair pulling, overstimulation, LOTS of dirty talk, riding, backshots, ROUGHHH, all together just filth tbh.

words count: 2724

author's note: stop this is so filthy, like, whewy 😅. please don't read if you're uncomfortable with anything listed above. kind, constructive criticism welcome.

(loosely based on this song)

"he fucking cheated on you?" chris looked down at you, his eyes fuming. you had walked into his bedroom, a bitter laugh leaving your lips as you uttered the words you didn't truly want to admit.

"has been for fucking months, god i'm so fucking stupid," you mutter, your small hands sliding over your face in frustration. "it was right under my nose too, like how the fuck did I not realize."

you were rambling now, and chris could sense it.

he could feel your frustration, the sadness you were trying to repress. to him you were an open book, had been since the age of nine. and right now, he knew that the last thing you wanted was to be pitied, and so that was exactly what he was not going to do.

"hey, c'mere," chris spoke up, his hand grabbing your wrist and tugging you closer to his body. it ended with your legs being thrown over either side of his, straddling his lap.

you could feel his hardening dick under you, the way he shifted you around on his lap to get comfortable, but you didn't care. chris had always been like this, had always made it obvious that he thought you were attractive, and you'd be lying if you said you didn't feel the same.

the two of you were close. probably some of the most important people in each other's lives, and while the sexual tension had never really been addressed, it was there. it was definitely fucking there. you could feel him, his eyes roaming over your face, as if he was waiting for you to look him in the eyes.

you let your arms wrap around his neck, and you were suddenly hyperaware of the position the two of you were in. the way his arms wrapped around your waist, tugging you impossibly closer, and the way his nose nuzzled against the spot where your jaw met your neck.

"i'm sorry, sweetheart," chris finally whispered, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to the sensitive skin, causing you to shiver. "he didn't deserve you."

his lips kept trailing along your skin, making your mind go foggy. you couldn't think about anything else other than his lips and the way they were making you feel.

"what are you doing, chris?" you asked him, a small giggle leaving your lips. “making my girl feel better, with a distraction,” chris whispered, and you swore you felt his teeth scrape along your skin.

my girl.

the way the two words rolled off his tongue sent a chill through your entire body, and before you could even think, your hand was sliding through his hair, tugging him impossibly closer.

chris groaned, and he could feel his dick harden even more under you, a feeling that had you whining softly. he let his head fall back, looking up at you. "tell me if you want me to stop, okay?" his voice was a whisper, a plea almost.

and god, he didn't want to stop. the way his best friend was sat on his lap, practically begging for him, it made him feel so many things. but just because he didn’t want to didn’t mean he wouldn’t if that’s what she wanted.

your hands slid down his chest, stopping right at his belt. "i want this, christopher." chris groaned. he hated when you used his full name, and you knew that. and that was exactly why you said it, a small smile tugging on your lips.

"say it again," chris said, his hands gripping onto your thighs. his fingers were digging into your skin, sure to leave bruises, but the thought made you moan. "i want this, christopher," you whispered, letting his name roll off your tongue as you grinded against his dick.

chris didn't even hesitate to grab your shirt, pulling it over your head, tossing it behind him. he flipped the two of you over, pinning your wrist above your head. "keep them there for me, angel."

the nickname made you shiver, and you nodded. he sat up on his knees, his fingers fumbling with the button on your jeans, before finally tugging them down your legs. he could see the wet spot on your panties, his hands running over your clothed cunt. "already soaked, baby."

he leaned down, attaching his lips to yours. his hands continued to run over the soft material, before he was ripping the fabric, a loud gasp leaving your lips. chris smirked, his lips still pressed against yours, kissing you hard and deep. he let his hand slide up your body, his finger wrapping around your throat, and squeezing.

"you're mine," chris growled, and you whimpered. "always been yours, chris." he smiled, letting his thumb run across your bottom lip. "that's right, huh, sweet girl,” he mumbled. his lips were trailing down your body, stopping when he reached your hips.

he bit the skin, hard, before licking the mark he left behind. the way your hands were gripping onto the bedsheets, knuckles turning white, only made chris smile. "do you think i can make you feel better than he ever did?" chris asked, his tone was cocky, and the thought of you saying no had him almost growling.

you could hear the anger in his voice, the jealousy. it turned you on even more, the thought of chris being jealous over you. "yes," you mumbled, your hips bucking up, desperately trying to find some type of friction. chris let out a chuckle, “so desperate for me, aren't you, princess?"

he kissed the inside of your thighs, his eyes never leaving yours. "look at you, all needy for me," chris mumbled, his finger sliding through your folds, groaning at the amount of slick he felt.

he didn't even give you time to respond before he was burying his head in between your thighs, his tongue lapping at your clit, sucking it into his mouth.

"christopher!" you moaned out, your back arching off the bed. the hand that wasn't wrapped around your throat was rubbing up and down your thigh, as if he was comforting you.

"taste so good," chris muttered, his lips moving to your entrance, licking a stripe up, before shoving his tongue in. he fucked you with his tongue, moaning at the way you were grinding against his face.

you couldn't focus on anything other than the way his tongue was fucking into you, the way his nose was nudging against your clit. the coil in your stomach was growing tighter and tighter, and you were sure you were about to come.

"chris, 'm gonna come," you whimpered, your hands reaching down, gripping his hair, pulling him impossibly closer. your hips grinned against his face, chasing the pleasure he was giving you.

chris could feel how close you were, the way your walls were fluttering around his tongue, and he could tell that you were trying to keep him close. "go ahead, sweetheart, come for me," he said, his words muffled. that was all it took for you to come, a loud moan leaving your lips, his name falling from them.

chris licked up everything you had to offer him, not wasting a single drop. his eyes were trained on your face, the way you were panting, trying to catch your breath. chris smiled, his lips trailing back up your body, kissing every inch of exposed skin he could. he finally reached your lips, connecting his own with yours.

you could taste yourself on his tongue, and the thought made you moan, a sound that was swallowed by chris' lips. his hand had left your throat, his fingers replacing his tongue. he easily slid two fingers into your cunt, your slickness allowing him to do so. you moaned into his mouth, your arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him close.

chris smiled against your lips, his fingers thrusting into you fast and hard, and it wasn't long before he was adding a third. you were already sensitive, your previous orgasm having barely settled, but you could feel another building, and it wasn't going to take long.

"gonna come again for me again, ma?" chris whispered, and you nodded your head, whines leaving your lips. "so pretty for me." his fingers were working quickly, his thumb rubbing harsh circles on your clit, his eyes watching as your face scrunched up. "come for me, baby."

it was as if his words were all you needed, and you were coming for the second time. your nails were digging into his skin, and you were sure you were drawing blood, but chris didn't seem to care.

"so good, princess," chris mumbled, his fingers slowly moving out of your cunt, bringing them to your mouth. “wanna taste yourself?” you opened your mouth, letting him shove his fingers in. you moaned, sucking your own slick off of his fingers, and the way chris was looking at you made your brain go fuzzy.

he pulled his fingers out, and he could see the glossy look in your eyes. "you good?" he asked, his hands holding the side of your face. you nodded, leaning into his touch. "mhm."

he chuckled, before flipping the two of you back over, so that he was on his back, and you were straddling him. "want you to ride me, angel." you slid down his lap slightly, your hands going to undo his belt. "take off your clothes, chris."

he didn't hesitate, quickly taking his shirt off. the sight of him shirtless had your mouth watering, but you didn't have time to admire it.

he lifted his hips, letting you pull his jeans and boxers down. you could see his cock, and fuck. it was big, and thick, and you weren't even sure you'd be able to take all of him.

"c'mon, baby. let me see how pretty you are on my cock," chris groaned, and his words had you moaning. you lifted yourself up, letting him line himself up with your entrance. "i'll go slow, angel."

he pushed you down, his hands on your hips guiding you. the stretch burned, and it took everything in you not to whimper. "fuck," chris cursed, his head falling back. his hands were gripping onto your hips so hard, his nails digging into your skin.

you could feel the tears welling up in your eyes, but once you bottomed out, you were fine. he gave you time to adjust, looking at you for confirmation before he started moving. you nodded your head, and that was all he needed.

his hips started thrusting up, his movements slow and gentle, and his eyes were watching your face for any signs of discomfort.

"more," you muttered, and he complied, his hips thrusting harder, his pace picking up. "always wanted this," chris groaned, his fingers wrapping around your throat, pulling you down to connect his lips with yours.

you moaned into his mouth, his hips thrusting up into you. the room was filled with the sounds of skin slapping, and the way his cock was hitting your g spot had you seeing stars.

"fuck, fuck, please," you cried out, and the sound of your pleas had chris grunting. he moved one of his hands, letting it rest on your lower stomach, putting pressure on it, making him hit that spot even harder.

"feel so good," chris grunted, his grip tightening around your throat. "you like it when i choke you?" "yes, yes, love it," you whimpered, as tears fell down your cheeks.

the sight of his best friend crying above him because of how good he was making you feel had his hips thrusting harder, his hands grabbing at your body. he was sure his fingers were leaving bruises, and the thought had him growling.

"look so pretty taking my cock like a good little slut," chris grunted, and the dirty talk had you whining. "yeah? my baby likes being called a slut?" you nodded, a loud moan leaving your lips. "my pretty little slut."

he flipped the two of you over, chris hovering above you. he had a hand wrapped around your throat, his other hand resting beside your head. his lips were right against your ear, his voice low, growling.

his hips continued to drill into you, your eyes rolling back. you were barely able to form any thoughts, let alone sentences other than whimpers and whines.

"you feel so good, baby," chris grunted, and the way he was speaking made you moan. "gonna come," you cried out, the familiar feeling in your stomach starting to build. "i know, princess," he said, his hand moving to grip the bed sheets, his hips thrusting into you faster.

"fuck, please," you begged, with the way his hand was wrapped around your throat it had you seeing stars. the pleasure was intense, and chris could feel the way you were shaking, your walls fluttering around him.

"such a pretty little slut, crying for her best friend as he fucks her," he whispered, and the words were all you needed, sending you over the edge, your high washing over you. you came with a loud moan, the tears that were previously falling were now streaming down your face, the pleasure was overwhelming.

chris continued his brutal pace, his lips sucking marks into the sensitive skin of your neck. he pulled out flipping you over, "hands and knees, angel." he waited until you got into position before shoving himself back into you, both of you groaning. he let his hands wrap around your hair, pulling your head back.

his lips were attached to the spot between your neck and shoulder, his hips moving impossibly faster. the feeling was so intense, you could barely breathe. "fuck, please, chris," you were mumble-whining, unable to form any coherent sentences. the feeling was too much, too overwhelming. "can't talk, ma?"

chris chuckled, and the sound made your eyes roll back. his fingers were digging into the flesh of your hips, and you were sure that if he didn't have such a good grip on you, you would have collapsed by now. "my dumb little plaything, hmm?"

you whined, his words going straight to your cunt, causing you to clench around him. "already dripping again, hm? you like being my dumb little toy?"

you nodded, and he chuckled, letting go of your hair and pushing your face into the mattress. the change in angle had him hitting a different spot, and he was sure the sounds that were leaving your mouth were inhuman.

"christopher, chris, please," you were begging, and it was music to his ears. "what's wrong, princess?" he said, his hand rubbing your back as his thrusts slowed. "it's too much," you mumbled, and he could see the tears staining your face, the drool leaking out of the side of your mouth. "too much ma?"

you nodded, and his eyes widened.

"you want me to stop, princess?" chris said, and he was ready to pull out, when you shook your head. "want you to come," you whispered, and he smiled. "yeah, angel? my girl wants me to come in her tight little pussy?"

you nodded, and that was all it took for chris. his thrusts picked up, his fingers gripping the flesh of your hips. "gonna fill you up," chris grunted, his words going straight to your core, and suddenly you were coming once again.

you could feel his hot cum filling you up, and the way he was fucking into you had his seed leaking out of you. chris' head was resting on your back, and you were barely able to support the two of you, as your legs were shaking.

he pulled out, his hand swiping over your cunt, pushing his cum back into you. "keep it in, yeah?" he muttered, and the words made you shiver. chris laid on his back, pulling you to lay on his chest, his hands running up and down your body.

"you okay, angel?" chris asked, his eyes searching yours. he was worried he had pushed too far, and while it seemed like it, he didn't regret it. "yes, more than okay," you whispered, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips.

"good, good." there was a moment of silence, before he chris was breaking it.

"if i ever see that bastard, i'll fucking kill him."

#chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #nathan doe #nate doe #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #Spotify

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luvwestwood · 2 months

Text

❝ DOUBLE PENETRATED ❞ - Choso Kamo, Suguru Geto

— YOUR OLD HIGH-SCHOOL CLASSMATES DO YOUR NIPPLE PIERCINGS.

₊˚༊*·˚ warnings. nsfw(18+), piercer! choso/suguru, threesome, throat-fucking, resolved sexual tension, choso has a tongue piercing, suguru lip piercing, oral sex, orgasm denial, spitting, face slapping, dp (v/anal), creampies, cum eating, taking polaroids while fucking, filth, MENTIONS OF PIERCING PROCEDURES!

₊˚༊*·˚ notes. I fear that I may have gone crazy with the fucking. choso turned out to be the one with the tongue piercing, but dw.. sug has a lip piercing. cause I wanted to focus on suguru more, after some of you loved my previous piece about him! this is a repost, I experienced a few formatting issues. ty for 900! <3 s/o to my dear rya for coming up with this amazing title 😭

4,562 words (15m read)

Finally, it had come after all; the day you were to get your nipples pierced. Standing in front of the studio, you take a deep breath— half of you wanting to back out, but the other just screaming 'fuck it.'

As soon as you enter, a chime goes off above your head, the man behind the counter hauling his eyelids up to see who it was.

He seems familiar, you thought. Long, raven colored hair; and those piercings... "..Suguru?"

His head cocks forward; like some meerkat, "Is that.. who I think it is?" Suguru hops off the stool, stepping away from the counter. Bringing you in for a big warm hug, he pulls away; taking a good look at you as he does. A silver glint catching your eye; it seems that he had gotten a lip piercing done, a metal ring hugging the flesh.

"Damn, you look good. I haven't seen you since what, high school grad'?" he warmly smiles, his forearm still resting on your back. Both you and Suguru had left high school on a good note; he had tend to hang out with the more, known people in school— although he was someone you could tolerate.

Flustered, you divert your gaze; Suguru walking back around before you could speak. "..Yeah, I never knew that you worked here," moving closer towards the countertop, you rested against your two hands, leaning slightly.

"Mhm, you probably remember Choso? He works here too. I mean, he owns this place." Suguru's eyes busy scanning the bookings, you blink frantically, trying to remember who 'Choso' was. Choso Kamo, perhaps? He adds on, "..You coming in for an appointment? For what?"

"..Choso? That's not really ringing a bell. And uh, I'm here to get my.. nips done..." your voice trails off slightly, embarrassed that your old high school classmate sees you after years; but here, in the middle of getting your tits pierced.

He smiles slightly, alarm bells ringing at those two exact words coming out of your mouth. "Ah.. Choso's gonna be heartbroken for sure if he finds out that you've completely forgotten him." He marks your name off the list of bookings, standing up straight. "Being that you were so quiet back in high school, I never expected you to get your tits done."

Warmth rushing through your body, you nervously let out a laugh, "..People change, I guess.." You purse your lips, mentally slapping yourself at how awkward the conversation has turned.

"Well said, how 'bout you come along with me. Choso's gonna be helping you out today." He steps out of the counter once again, gesturing you to follow behind him.

You both walk through some curtains leading to the back of the studio, Suguru bringing you into a room with dark interior; a leather piercing bed taking up space in the middle of the room.

Another man was sitting on a wheeled stool beside a counter, his back turned to you. Seems like he's busy sterilising some equipment..

"Cho," Suguru calls out, the man glances behind his shoulder, fully spinning the stool around in surprise. "Look who I've got with me!"

Choso's eyes widen, mouth gaped after having not see you for a few years. He looks, so different. Too different. His hair a bit longer, but he decided to keep it down. It was no longer tied up in two pigtails like back in high school; both him and Suguru have turned into.. Good looking men; real men..

"..Choso?" you quietly call out , a type of tension lingering throughout the air— a room with two guys and one girl about to get her tits pierced by her old high school classmates, ones that she last expected to see.

Suguru slouches onto the sofa in the corner, hands holding a polaroid camera. "Our old classmate here has come today to get her tits done," He sticks one eye into the viewfinder, snapping a quick photo of his surroundings. "Also- If you don't mind, we tend to take polaroids of our customers after the finished piercing. Your face won't be caught in it, don't worry."

"Uh yeah, that's fine." You flashed a smile, before placing your coat and bag on the armrest beside Suguru, behind you could hear Choso finally speaking.

"..If you wanna just take a seat right here, and make yourself comfortable." He pats on the leather bed beside him, Choso stealing a quick stare down your body, noticing what has changed about you over these past few years. Pretty face like always, a fatter ass.. and..

"..Kay," hestitant, you scoot yourself onto the bed, leaning your head against the soft cushion. You breathe deeply, nervous about the fact that they were literally about to see your tits. But hey, it's their job, right? ..Why is Suguru still here though?

Choso takes note of your anxious demeanor, adjusting the lamp above you. He goes and slips on a pair of black latex gloves, before spinning back around; stumbling with his choice of words. You dart your eyes to the Choso making an array of strange noises, until he finally knows what to say.

"I'm gonna need you to uh, take that off." He points a finger at your shirt, his hand withdrawing immediately. You quickly understood what he meant, sitting yourself up on the bed.

"Right, yeah.." Your hands like frost from feeling timid, they graze against your skin as you took off your shirt; you had chosen not to wear a bra today, as it felt like it made sense. Your nipples instantly go erect from the cold touch of your fingers.

...And a nice pair of tits. That's the last thing Choso was meant to say. He swallows some spit, offering to take your shirt to keep it safely to the side, Suguru looking at you with the corner of his eye, grinning.

You lay back on the bed, the cold leather causing you to shiver all over again. Choso wheels the stool closer to you, his hand holding an antibacterial wipe. "..Alright, I think we'll go with a straight barbell. It's one of the safest options." Nodding in response, he goes on with the procedure.

He gives the surface of your tits a quick wipe, making them jiggle slightly— Choso tries his best to not let his mind trail off somewhere else. He's pierced multiple before but, something about you just had him whipped.. Especially after not seeing you for ages.

He looks at you for a moment before leaning in, trying not to smile at you all nervous underneath him; feeling your body tense under his touch as he firmly grabs your tits to leave markings with the pen.

"..Just relax yourself for me," he says, lowly, your feet stopping their kicking down the end of the bed. You study his face closely as he focuses on leaving perfect marks over your nipples to indicate where the piercing will go, his hot breath slightly fanning over your skin. You could hear Suguru in the background humming to the music on the radio, tapping away on his phone, and the same polaroid resting on his lap.

Choso pulls away allowing you to take a look at where he had drawn the markings. It took him a lot of strength to keep himself from latching his mouth onto your breasts then and there. "Approved?" He clicks the cap of the marker back on, tossing it to the side.

"..Approved," You give him a small, affirming smile as he gets the other tools ready. A clamp in his one hand, and a needle in the other, he holds them out.

"It's gonna hurt like a bitch for a few seconds, but it will be over before you know it." Reassuring you, you could only nod once more; licking your dried lips as you had ran out of words to say.

You try not to shut your eyes as you feel the cold clamp clutch onto your nipple, thinking that it would be bad etiquette if you did. Instead, you turn your head to the side, seeing Suguru still relaxed on the couch. He grins, but before you know it; the stinging of the needle hits you, a mewl coming out of your mouth.

"Good girl, just breathe," he coos, "I'm almost done with the other one." You bite down on your lip, certain that you had left a bruise behind. What felt like more than minutes, the stinging comes to a halt; numbing taking its place. You could feel Choso lay his gloved hands on your bare stomach, letting you know he had finished. "All done, you took that like a champ."

Turning your head back to it's original position, your eyes travel down to your chest, seeing the metal barbels inserted into both nipples. You smile, Suguru coming close to the bed with the polaroid.

"Oh, they look good." Suguru puts out, "I'm jealous of whoever gets to see these." His lips curl into a smirk as his eye goes near the viewfinder. You disregard his comment, busy looking at your freshly pierced tits.

"You happy with them?" Choso asks, wiping away at some equipment.

"I love them, thanks, Choso." You say, itching to poke at them but both men attempt to grab your wrist, causing you to look up; your eyes alternating between the two.

"Don't be touching them all the time," Suguru says sternly, meanwhile Choso on the other hand says something completely different.

"If.. you know, someone wants to, latch onto them- don't allow it," Choso continues, his blood curdling at the thought of someone else taking his own work for their pleasure. "..It needs to fully heal."

Cautiously, you nod, retracting your hand to lay it down on your side. Suguru switches up the topic, excited with the camera in his hand. "Ready to take a few pics? I'd say smile, but you aren't in them anyway."

"Of course," you sit up on the bed, perking your tits out as Suguru focused the lens on them. Choso bunches your hair up in his fist, bringing the strands behind your back so that the camera could get a clearer view of your chest. His grip delicate, but your stomach churns at how his long, slender fingers scratch off your nape.

You blink at the bright flash going off, the film peeking out of the slit at the top. Suguru takes it, flopping it around in the air for the picture to come through. He sets it down on the table nearby, with an intention to take more.

"Could you move yourself a little bit to the left?" Suguru's eye still stuck in the viewfinder, he orders you around with a gesture; his only sight of you being through the lens.

"..Like this?" you respond, after scooting slightly to the side; your hair still in Choso's grip, which accidentally feels like a harsh tug as soon as you move away— immediately, he lets go.

Choso mutters quietly under his breath, "Ah..- sorry."

Suguru brings the camera away from his face, his free hand suddenly grabbing onto the side of your waist; positioning you like a delicate doll. Your breath hitches, taken aback by his sudden movements.

He puts the viewfinder up to his eye again, snapping another valuable photo of you. The film comes out of the slit again, Suguru carrying out the same routine he had done with the previous picture.

Exhausted, you lay back down on the bed; though Suguru sees this as a perfect opportunity for another pic. "Hmm... Just- stay like that, yeah?" He says, the bright flash filling your vision with white.

You giggle, feeling as if you were a model taking boudoir, fully naked. You arch your back against the leather playfully, your chest protruding and extremely close to the lens, Suguru smiling and continuing to take more photos.

Choso remains silent as he slips the gloves off, a painful strain forming against his pants as he watched you pose so lewdly in front of him, you weren't the same girl as the one he knew back in high school.

Multiple photos scatter the table; Suguru having to go and fetch more film from the drawers.

Both of you had moved to the sofa in the corner, multiple pictures of you kneeling, biting your finger with your tits perked out to the camera; all pieces of film had covered parts of the floor. You were having a bit too much fun.

Choso, his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek. Refusing to be provoked, he stands up from the stool; making his way over to the sofa to take a seat beside you.

Suguru praises you, picking up a few of the photos that had finished processing. He remains anchored between your legs, towering over your body that was kneeled on the sofa. "They came out great, don't you think?" He holds one closely for you to see, your head tilting to take a peek.

"That one looks good," you point, Suguru approvingly nodding in response; although Choso makes a sudden comment, one that caught you by surprise.

Toying with the ends of your hair, Choso twirls them around his finger. The slight touch from his fingertips sending chills down your spine. "..So, who's gonna be lucky enough to see them?" he says, calmly; his voice not showing one bit of repentance. He was certain with his choice of words.

Confused, you turn to him, suppressing a titter. "..No one, I just really wanted this for myself.." you say, Choso nodding slowly; feeling slight relief at your answer.

“Probably can’t wait to show them off, huh?” Choso’s words sharp, digging into you like daggers; “..Just walking around, tits poking through your shirt, so everyone could see..”

All of a sudden, he yanks your hair back, and you let out a wail; your eyes meeting with Suguru’s above you. Seeing him grinning at you all helpless from the top, his hand reaches down to rest on your face; thumb caressing your cheekbone.

Looking at Choso— your eye moving to the side, his expression blank; but clearly, he was enjoying every bit of this.

“..I’d say we put her in her place,” Suguru says, his voice growing low; observing how easily you succumb to their touch. You could feel Choso’s grip let loose in your hair, and instead, his lips find their way to your neck; a hum crawling from his throat.

You whimper, Choso leaving a trail of wet kisses down the soft skin of your neck, softly gasping as he managed to move you around, laying you down against the edge of the sofa.

“W-wait, Choso..” you whispered, his lips moving from your chest down to your stomach, being careful to not meddle with your freshly done nipples, his hands roaming all over the gummy flesh on your waist.

You watch as he goes down on you, until a sudden grab at your chin lures you away, “Up here baby,” he purrs, your eyes misty— Suguru’s lips lock onto yours, tongues intertwining with each other as he groans into the kiss. You manage to swipe at his metal lip ring in the midst of it; the kiss so filthy and disgusting, nothing but neediness controlling it.

Choso on the other end pulling at your pants, allowing you to shimmy them off; leaving you in your underwear. Cock harder than ever, he licks against the material, the metal orb on his tongue poking through— he had a tongue piercing? He just couldn't wait to have you. A wet stain remains on the cotton, as he nibbles at the fabric before tearing it apart fully.

You let out a breathy moan into the kiss with Suguru, the ball on Choso’s tongue prodding at your clit, he alternates between licking and sucking. Occasionally, he plants kisses on the inside of your thighs; excessively groaning as he takes in all of you.

His large hands wrap around the plump of your legs, bringing you closer to his face; his grunts tickling you each time he slurped, eating you out as if you were his last meal.

Everything going on felt sinful; two men playing with you at the same time, but oh—did you want more.

Suguru pulls away, the camera placed on the ground; a long string of saliva connecting you two. Hands trembling as he reaches down for the buckle on his belt, undoing it swiftly— not fully pulling his pants down but instead grabbing for his cock; letting it hang freely from his boxers.

Your eyes frantically blinking at the size, so girthy, and long; you grab onto and tug at Choso’s strands as you felt him fuck into you with the tip of his tongue, your mouth gaping— Suguru seeing this as an advantage to stuff your mouth full of his cock.

A guttural sound crawling out of his throat, the warmth that your mouth enclosed over his cock doing his head in. His hips move back and forth, head falling back as he dug his fingers into your scalp, bobbing your head up and down his length. “Fuck.. just like that,” he groans, looking down at you taking him whole. “Good girl, how about we train this throat of yours..”

Suguru pushes into your throat as deep as he can go, your eyes brimming with tears; the tip of your nose tickled by his pubes— “Just breathe baby, breathe..” He says so easily with a devilish grin, enjoying the pure panic on your face.

He stills in your throat for a few seconds before completely pulling your mouth off his cock— spit running down your chin, his entire length glistening with it.

You let out a cry, your head crashing back into the sofa as you feel Choso stick two digits into you, his tongue relentlessly gliding over your clit as he does so, enjoying every single one of your desperate mewls.

Suguru rewards you with a slap on your cheek, a stinging mark stays behind. Lightly tapping on the side of your face, he compels you to open your mouth; dropping an orb of spit into the hole. “Swallow it,” and you obey, sticking out your tongue to prove it. “So obedient..”

You could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter by the second, before Choso hauls his head up from between your legs. Suguru’s hands clawed in your scalp; allowing him to move you around like a ragdoll— his strength making you stand up from the sofa.

Your head tilts to one side, Suguru leaning closely to your ear; “Go and give Cho' a ride, he’ll be upset if you leave him out.”

Trying to peer your eyes down to take a look at what Choso was up to, you see him struggling to undo the buttons on his pants, so eager to spend yet another minute with you.

As soon as he gets them off, he takes his thick cock in his grasp; giving it a small jerk, spitting into his hand before rubbing the slobber all over.

“..Go on, make him feel good,” Suguru whispers, pushing you closer towards Choso— you land in his lap, mind-fucked; you immediately grab his face, leaning in for yet another sloppy kiss, Choso melting into your touch.

His hands trying to position his tip at your entrance, he pulls away from the kiss for a moment; “Come on.. Sit on it,” his eyes look up into yours, almost as if he were begging.

You glance behind you, sinking down onto his cock without thinking twice. You clutch onto the fabric of his shirt, wrinkling it all together. Choso places a few kisses on your jaw, his eyes squeezing shut at the feeling of your tight walls closing in on him.

“Doing so good for me,” he whispers against your skin, “Start to move when you can, just be mindful of your piercings.”

You nod, furrowing your brows and lips parting, foreheads leaning against each other as you start to bounce up and down, his entire length filling you up and stretching your hole out, you endlessly chant his name like a prayer.

Choso’s cold hands running through your hair, trying moving loose strands away from your face. A snap goes off behind you, a familiar white flash blinding your sights— Suguru taking a photo of this pornographic moment, he takes the film and tosses it onto the ground before bringing his attention back to you.

A hand snakes onto your shoulder from behind, possibly Suguru. A pair of hands belonging to Choso resting on your hips as you moved up and down his cock, his head falling heavy into the sofa’s cushion in pure gratification.

The hand on your shoulder rushes to your mouth, covering it as you felt another cock enter your ass; a string of muffled moans trapped against the palm of Suguru’s hand.

Two cocks fucking into you at the same time, your eyes roll to the back of your head; feeling both tips in your guts, Suguru’s cock pounding into you harder than Choso’s.

You were just full of dick, and you loved it, Choso fighting the urge to hold onto your tits bouncing in his face; knowing it would be a bad idea to. He didn’t want to risk it, possibly infecting anything.

Your ass rippling against Suguru’s pelvis, you let out a long, laboured moan, your toes curling at the sensation. Suguru’s hand reaches under your chin, his voice almost mokcing you. The tips of his fingers tap against your jaw again, “You love being stuffed with our cocks, don’t you?”

You could only nod, your eyes closing as you indulged in the pleasure; mind completely blank— fear arousing in you from how feral Suguru has become; but it turns you on even more.

“Use your words, tell me you love it. Tell me.” Suguru firmly grips onto your face, moving it in all sorts of directions.

You hiccup, tears stained with hot tears. “I-I love your cocks so much, I.. I need more,” managing to choke out, he somewhat seems satisfied enough with your answer.

He peels away from you, and so does his cock, your asshole completely stretched out; your holes aching. You try to stamp your legs, squirming from all the different things coming at you .

Choso slides out of you too, his heavy cock slapping onto his abdomen. He didn't allow himself to cum. Nor did he let you. “You hear that Suguru? The slut said she wants more.” Fucked like a whore, you felt empty and lost without any cock inside of you.

Choso pushes you aside on the sofa, getting up and making his way towards the end— Suguru swapping positions with him; this time he aligned his tip with your hole, taking over as he fucked you from behind.

Suguru’s hand presses down on your back, forcing you into a more defined arch, his hips thrusting into you mercilessly, practically fucking you into the sofa. You cry into the cushions, pleading him to slow down; your hand reaching back. Suguru snapping a quick photo of his cock moving in and out of you— getting a perfect shot of you bent over in front of him.

The crisp sound of the film leaving the slit rings through your ears, before you could hear the photo falling onto the ground.

Choso guides your head back up, bringing you to eye level with his cock, forcing your mouth back down his length. He was on the verge of losing his mind too— did he want to keep you to himself forever, so he could fuck you every hour, day, week.

You were being stuffed both ends; gagging noises emitting from your throat as Choso fucked into your front like a flesh-light, Suguru on the other end drilling into you like a mad man. His leg props up onto the sofa for leverage, allowing himself to rut into you deeper than before.

You whimper all over Choso’s cock, buckets of spit spilling down his shaft, then to the ground as he used your mouth as he desired, your holes at both end not being shown any remorse.

A cacophony of moans and skin slapping echoes throughout the room, along with the faint melody coming from the radio.

“I-I’m gonna cum in this pussy,” Suguru whines, his nails digging into the skin on your hips, clutching onto the flesh trying to fucking you back onto his cock as he chased his orgasm.

A creamy ring forms at his shaft, his hands reaching down to your clit to lazily rub circles, urging you to cum as well. “Let it out baby, m-make a mess all over me.”

You grip onto the sofa’s arm rests, letting out a long groan over Choso’s cock again, your body spasming as your orgasms washed over you. Your legs shake and jitter, both feet kicking in overstimulation.

Choso pulls you by the hair off his cock, red tip slapping against your lips as he jerked himself off to his high, forcing his length back into your mouth— ropes of warm cum coated every inch of your throat.

He slides himself out for a second, the remaining spurts of his load decorating your face. “Pretty..” He breathes out, chest heaving. Choso leans in, nastily kissing you on the lips, getting a taste of his own cum off your tongue as he does.

The sight so lewd, both your saliva and remnants of his load trickling down your mouth. You try and swallow the rest, Choso smiling, so proud.

Suguru ends up bottoming into you, his hips rocking deeply in rhythm with each time his balls tighten; your brains fucked to the point that you could only think about cock.

He spills his own load into your womb, completely filling you up with his thick cum that was bound to leak out of you as soon as he pulls out; in fact, you were stuffed with cum on both ends.

Suguru strikes a spank on your ass, tenderly massaging the flesh afterwards, spreading your cheeks as he slowly slides out; cock heavily hanging as his eyes watched his cum drip out of your stretched hole.

He reaches for the camera, taking one last snapshot of your fucked up holes as a sentimental memory, grabbing the film and tossing the camera to the side.

Suguru bends down towards your pussy, licking up a bit of his cum out of you before mixing it with some saliva, spitting the ball back into your pussy, rubbing it everywhere with the help of his fingers.

Choso walks around, slouching back into the sofa; Suguru gently seating you down beside him, being mindful of your trembling legs.

All three of you remain seated, focused on trying to calm you down; the studio was littered with film everywhere, the room stinking of pure, filthy sex— bodies warm, sticky, and covered with sweat. Everyone trying to recollect themselves; faces blushed with red.

You could feel Choso’s hands run through your hair, remembering how hard they were both tugging on your scalp earlier. Suguru also rubbing your thigh up and down, soothing your nerves. Your body ached, completely fucked out of your skin.

“..I think we should have you in for a weekly dick appointment instead.”

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ © luvwestwood ‘24. all works are owned by me, and originally come from my own head. please do not re-post on a third party platform without my permission!

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ as always, thank you for the love on each and every one of my posts. 🎀🩷

[luvwestwood masterlist]

#jjk smut #suguru geto smut #geto suguru #geto smut #choso kamo #choso smut #choso kamo smut #jjk x reader #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo x you #choso kamo x female reader #suguru geto #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto x you #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu geto #jujutsu choso

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angelwithdemonictendencies · 4 months

Text

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

1K notes · View notes

pascalpvnk · 2 months

Text

take it from me

pairing: latino!joel miller x f!afab!reader

summary: joel is a simple man who simply finds pleasure in pleasing you.

warnings: moodboard used for aesthetic purposes - does not represent the reader description, 18+ MDNI, no timeline, no specified ages, no mention of sarah or ellie, LATINO JOEL (most translations within the text except for some reused pet names/common phrases). This is porn with minimal plot (but unrelated plot I canon—his favorite artist is Linda Ronstadt and I stand by it.), Joel maneuvers reader, manhandling essentially, no other descriptions of reader other than nipple piercings, body worship(?), Joel’s filthy fucking mouth, mention of thigh riding, oral (both receiving), unprotected p in v, multiple orgasms, mentions of intense emotions, aftercare.

word count: 3.3k

HOW TO SUPPORT PALESTINE // IMPORTANT FOR TLOU READERS & WRITERS

a/n: fun fact, I’m a virgin, so if it seems far fetched it’s probably because it is. anyways, a special shoutout to ramon nomar for being the muse for this piece, another to @mrsswilliams for beta-ing and fueling my horny antics, thank you to my spanish teachers for guiding me to this moment (probably not your intention but I digress), and to you for taking the time to be here and hopefully enjoying! happy reading xx (banners & dividers by @saradika-graphics)

Addicting is the only word Joel Miller can muster up to describe you as his mind clouds with lust each night he’s alone, bucking into his own fist and spilling his sins after he’d met you. Of course you’re beautiful and charming above all things, but he can’t help the way his cock stirs after simply a phone call from you describing your day. How you miss him and want to meet up again soon.

Joel isn’t the brightest man, which he is very self aware of. But what he craves to learn about you, what your favorite flower is, favorite ice cream, your desires, outranks any level of intelligence a man could hold. He wants to please you, not for a superficial reason to use against you down the line. He enjoys your smile and the way your eyes crinkle, your dimple making an appearance on occasion, and it makes him feel good. The little things shine a light in his chest, ever the people pleaser.

However, he finds a red, hot desire to rouse you, make you squirm under his tender touch. To watch every fiber of control and tension dissipate from your being.

But he’s cautious.

He’s treading on thin ice within himself. He wants to give and give and give, but he’d never forgive himself if he overwhelmed and alarmed you. Your wit keeps him on his toes, tempting and trying his willpower to take things at a palatable pace.

But he’s just a man at his simplest form, a glutton for pleasure wanting to carve himself a home within you and give everything he has to please you.

You found yourself perched upon his lap, a forgotten movie droning in the background as hands and lips explore new territory. Joel firmly guided your hips, firstly against his own, then he aided you across his denim clad thigh after you wriggled your pants to the floor.

Choruses of Spanish praises, filth, ‘mamita, use me’, and phrases alike rolled off his tongue effortlessly as he found pleasure within your own. Consuming every moan, gasp, and ‘don’t stop’ you were so eager to give.

He struggled to deny your beautiful pleas to get him off as he had for you. You knew he wanted you to, there was no doubt in your mind considering the prominent bulge straining and begging you to. He reassured you, or rather made excuses for himself to ease the guilt he felt at your subtle disappointment.

I’m not coming in my jeans in front of the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.

You said you had work in the morning, anyhow. We outta get’cha home, preciosa.

Joel kissed you softly as he pulled up your pants, grabbed his keys, opened his truck door for you, waited at red lights, and finally as he dropped you off at your apartment building, sealing the night with melted wax, branding himself on your heart until you meet next.

Made it home okay, sweetheart. Hope to see you again soon.

And he does.

His head is already spinning at the thought of going out with you again. He’s showered, trimmed, even ironed his flannel before making sure it’s buttoned and tucked properly. Well rested is not one of the qualities he’s adorning—no thanks to you running his imagination rampant—but the adrenaline he feels, and the coffee he drank at noon, make up for his lack of preparedness.

At the end of the day, those things don’t even matter. Joel Miller makes it as far as his front door when you ring, bringing you inside with the intention of grabbing his own keys. His hands find you instead, your face in a gentle caress as he compliments your attire, your appearance as a whole, and your waist as he kisses you with increasing fervor. You don’t stop him, and he doesn’t stop himself.

“Ay dios. Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you all day,” he mumbles against your neck, walking you backwards to his bedroom. His shirt wrinkles under your tight grip, suffocating him until you pop each button open one by one. You leave him in his black undershirt, half untucked in his dark washed jeans.

The back of your knees find his mattress before you even realize, forcing you to sit parallel with his waist. He takes his time, always calculated with his hands on every sweet spot he can reach. Joel cups your jaw, admiring your blown out pupils and the raw lust overtaking your features.

“Wanna take good care of ya, now,” he soothes. “Just say the word and I’ll stop, you know I’ll stop for ya, promise.”

It’s half of a promise to you, half of him asking you to promise to tell him if it becomes too much. You nod, reaching for him once again.

“No, chiquita,” he holds your hand to his chest. “¿Me prometes? You promise me?”

“I promise,” you say clearly and wholeheartedly. “On my life.”

With your renewed consent, he folds himself over to kiss you deeply. His tongue dances with yours, similarly to a few nights prior but with increased desperation. Fingertips graze up your sides, nerves twitching under his subtle touch, only unlatching your lips to lift your top over your head. His eyes fixate on the pebbled flesh and metal protruding your bra, making quick work of the clasp before removing it.

“I knew you had something hiding underneath this,” he muses, toying with the fabric of your bra between his first two fingers. “Just when I thought you couldn’t get any prettier, hm?”

Joel skims his thumbs on the underside of both of your breasts, attaching his mouth to your collarbone. He suckles your delicate skin, committing the taste of your sweet musk and desire to his memory. He softly licks over one of your nipples, taking in how your head tips back with a sigh. He brings it into his mouth, nipping and assuaging the pierced bud until you manage to free his shirt out of his waistline.

“Paciencia, amor. Patience, sweetheart, please,” he pacifies as he guides your hand out of reach from his belt. “Just wanna savor you. Can I?”

You nod and opt to tangle your fingers in his curls. Approval seeps through his smirk as he continues his ministrations for as long as he pleases, feeling accomplished each time your hips chase his.

Joel stands up straight, running his calloused hands over one of your clothed legs, meticulously pulling each shoe and sock off and tossing them to the side to find later.

“Do I need a condom, baby?” He mutters against your knee, toying with the hemline of your pants.

You tell him no and quickly explain you’re clean and protected. Something in him visibly switches, desire becoming carnal. He clings tight to his sense of control, desperately willing himself to give himself to you, not give into himself.

Joel drags both layers of bottoms down your legs, watching you challenge him by keeping them clamped together. He exhales heavily through his nose, your limbs relaxing slightly, but just enough for him to retake control.

“Christ, looks like I was wrong again,” he sighs, smoothing his flattened palms over your open thighs. You can get prettier. “Oh she’s pretty, mamita. All this for me?”

A gasp falls between your lips as you’re tugged closer to the edge of the mattress. Your head spins, the only thought crossing it is Joel. His hands. His words. His filthy mouth and how it’s mere centimeters from where you want him to be. Need him to be.

“Joel,” you whine, feeling the scratch of his blunt facial hair on your inner thighs. His lips tease the sensitive skin around your pussy.

“What?” He coos, fingernails biting your flesh. “Dime, baby. Tell me what you want.”

It feels pathetic, you’re completely at his mercy, stripped down on his bed while he remains fully clothed over you. He has you in the palm of his hand, putty waiting to be molded and shaped however he pleases. Bliss has already warped your features, the anticipation of what’s to come already numbing your brain.

“I want you,” you cry simply.

“You have me, don’t ya? I’m gonna need you to be more specific.”

Frustration bubbles in your belly. You’re truly not annoyed, but the tension might snap you in half before he gets the chance to.

“Want you to touch me,” you plead. “Want you to make me come, please.”

Joel hums with content, thumbs pulling your cunt open from the outer lips. A slick, sticky mess you are, hardly touched and begging to come. Arousal seeps from you, finding its way to your tight hole. You watch Joel wet his lips, the self restraint slowly dwindling from his gaze.

“Show me,” he huffs. “Be good and fuck your hand f’me. Wanna see how you like it.”

The sound of his metal belt buckle clanking against itself is enough for your hand to fly below your hips. Relief floods your nervous system the moment you circle your clit, hips lifting and chasing the friction. Sighs leave your parted lips, eyelids falling shut with pleasure.

“Ah ah,” he corrects. “Eyes on me, beba. Sigue jugando con esa flor bonita. Mírame.” Keep playing with that pretty flower. Look at me.

You comply with his request, half lidded but maintaining eye contact nonetheless. Your fingers toy with your cunt lazily, eyes settling between his burning gaze and his taut boxers. His length strains beneath the thin fabric and his hand twitches at his side.

“I love watching you, mami,” Joel purrs. “Wish y’could see how perfect you look right now…perfectly wrecked just for me.”

His words egg you on, pace quickening on your throbbing clit. Moans spill from you as you watch Joel squeeze at his seemingly uncomfortable erection for his own relief. His other palm keeps your legs spread for him, kneading desperately at your thighs as you work yourself towards the edge.

“¿Quieres que te ayude, mamita?” Do you want me to help you?

Joel settles on his knees, both palms splayed against your skin to keep you pinned down. He licks a broad stripe from your asshole to your clit, sucking harshly on your labia before diving into your weeping cunt, all while audibly sighing with delight at your taste. Your hand instinctively rushes to grip his curls.

“I didn’t tell you to stop,” he grumbles while putting your hand back where he says it belongs. “Keep playing with yourself. Make this pretty pussy cry all over my face, cosa dulce.” Sweet thing.

Your digits pulse against the nerve bundle, shocked by the sensation of his tongue swirling inside of you. It’s absolutely obscene. He slurps up everything you have to give, edging you until your legs clamp over his ears. Joel sings into your cunt, a delicious melody that sends you into a frenzy. Your walls flutter around him as he guides you through your orgasm, nose nudging your hand out of the way to make more room for himself.

Your gaze drops from the ceiling to his blissful face, thick eyelashes brushing his flushed cheeks as he savors you. It all begins to feel like too much as you grip onto his shirt. You pull the cloth towards you and he gets the hint, dragging his mouth away from your pussy and removing his top.

“So desperate to come, mamita, already finished with me?” He cants, smoothing a thumb over your kneecap.

“No- just need a breath,” you pant. You take in his features, broad shoulders with a strong chest, thick arms. His hair alone has you running laps, the sparseness of it littered on his torso and below his belly button, his curls tousled already from your hands, and his beard—fuck his beard—is absolutely soaked with your arousal. He makes no attempt to wipe it clean before kissing you. The taste of your cunt dances on your tongue as he licks into your mouth.

“Joel,” you sigh, his lips leaving yours and trailing down your neck. “I wanna suck your cock, please.”

“You wanna suck it?” He smirks, slipping his hand beneath his boxers before shoving them off of his thighs. His fingers slip through your folds briefly before he deposits your cum onto the tip of his dick. Mischief plays on his expression as he opens your legs once more.

Joel slowly stuffs his cock into you, not your mouth but your pussy. A gasp escapes you, morphing itself into a moan. Your legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into his ass to pull him in deeper.

“Thought you wanted to suck it,” he grunts with a devilish grin, grinding his hips down into yours.

“Hmm, I’ll suck it later,” you draw out with a smile.

He leans down to suck your bottom lip into his mouth, gently nibbling on the sensitive skin before pulling off.

“God, mamita,” he exhales. “Love fucking this pussy. Takin’ me so well.”

His hips drive into yours at a devastating pace, only using a portion of his length to massage your pussy. You quickly adjust to him, allowing him to thrust deeper into you. You cry his name while simultaneously having all of the oxygen punched out of your lungs. Joel swallows your wails whole, moaning against your lips in return.

Your legs tense around his body, face twisting up with pleasure under the weight of his. Lips drag against your skin, anywhere he can reach. The room spins around you, eyes rolling back into your head as his hand snakes down to play with your clit. You desperately claw at Joel, gripping his curls in one hand and bruising his back with the other.

“Dámelo. Give it to me like I want, sugar,” Joel coaxes.

The bundles of twine prickling your flesh and holding you together in one piece snap, your body completely shattering into a million fragments underneath him. He stays buried inside you as you pulse around his cock, humming into your neck and soothing his hands over your burning skin.

Joel gently settles onto his side near you, cupping your jaw and kissing you feverishly. You shift your body to face away from him, pushing back against his soaked erection. His eyebrows furrow, grunts of detest coming from him.

“No, mami, I want to look at you while I fuck you. Ven aquí, come here,” he corrects, grasping your arm to guide you to press up chest to chest with him. A brief hiss escapes him as the cool jewelry brushes up against his nipples.

“These’ll be the death of me,” he sighs, latching his mouth to yours once more as he maneuvers you the way he wants.

His cock slips easily back into your wet heat, arms trapping your upper half against his as his legs anchor to the bed to buck into you. He grips onto your ass for leverage and you find yourself holding onto it with your own palm. It’s slower, intimate, reeling you in to take more, to take it all.

He draws another orgasm from you. Your heart thrums against his hardened chest, his pounding against the confines of his ribcage. He collapses on his back with a breathy groan, sweat perspiring on his forehead. You push back his sticky curls as he catches his breath this time.

“You still wanna suck it?” He chuckles cheekily, offering but not forcing.

He’s surprised as you eagerly crawl down his body, curling over his thigh while taking his cock in your fist. Your back is to him once more, but beggars can’t be choosers, especially while he’s stuffed in your mouth so perfectly. His fingers drag along your spine, palm splaying flat to soothe the sensation quickly after. His hand stills and stomach flexes as you take as much of him as you can, pumping your tight fist over the remainder of his length.

“Fuck me,” he shutters mindlessly, “feels so good, amor. Treating me so good.”

The praises fuel you, moaning around his tip as he continues to trace shapeless trails onto your back. Your mind feels cloudy, not thunderstorms and impending doom cloudy, but rather a sunny, breezy, nothing could ever go wrong kind of cloudy. You feel taken care of for once, free to slip into a warm, blissful state with Joel. He feels safe.

“Come back, preciosa,” he grins as you make your way back up his body. He doesn’t hesitate to kiss you deeply once more, running his hands gently all over your skin as you settle on top of him.

“Missed ya,” he chuckles, kissing your swollen pout a few more times before wetting his fingertips with his spit. He reaches down, circling your clit as his cock twitches against your seam. Your head falls beside his, feeling too heavy to hold up on your own.

Joel protrudes your cunt once more, nestling into you carefully at first. You writhe over him at the push and pull of his cock inside your fluttering walls, hips snapping down against his with subtle slaps of skin rejoicing. He picks up his pace beneath you, overwhelming your senses a bit too quickly.

You work your core to sit up, fully sheathed with his length as you grind against him. He grips onto your hips, watching you use him for your own pleasure.

“Tan bonita, amor,” he hums smugly, his fingertips dancing along your bare thigh, his other hand tucked behind his head to prop himself up. “So pretty, mami, fuck.”

He tweaks his fingers against your nipples, pinching the pebbled flesh carefully as you ride his lap. Tufts of his neat pubic hair scratch at your clit, the friction of everything causing you to soak his lap further. You’re being pushed to your limits, throat dry and voice hoarse. Joel wishes to have put water on his bedside table, he would’ve had he’d known you’d end up here so quickly.

“Doin’ okay, sweetheart?” He checks in, toying with your fingers that have found a home on his chest. You silently nod, eyelids low and face contoured with bliss.

“Think you can give me one more, bebita? Come on my cock one more time and I’ll give you whatever you need.”

Your voice hardly sounds like your own, but you mean it when you tell him yes, please. He feels it when you clamp down on his length, his thighs tensing so tight they almost cramp. His legs hinge at the knee, body pivoting you forward into his chest. Joel grabs fistfuls of your ass as he fucks up into you, all of the air leaving your lungs.

His grunts and groans become less calculated and intentional, thrusts becoming sloppier and instinctual. You squeeze him tight, toes curling as you already tumble towards your impending high.

“Mierda,” he hisses, strong arms pressing your torso firmly to his. His lips consume your every breath, whine and borderline scream.

“Take it, use me, amor. Dámelo, cariño, and I’ll give you my cum. Take it from me,” he grunts sharply, pressing into you impossibly deeper and faster. Your skin bursts into flames, embers showering your body as he pulls that final high from you. You shutter above him, dead weight against his body as he uses you to finish himself off. He evacuates your warmth and pumps out his load between your sticky, worn out figures with a drawn out groan.

Joel makes the first move to stand up, cock softening and hanging between his legs. He starts to step towards his en suite bathroom to find a towel, but you reach for him.

“I’m just gettin’ somethin’ to clean you up, honey,” he smiles before seeing a sadness in your eyes, longing for him to come back. Tears prickle your eyes and Joel quickly makes his way back to the bed.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stay, baby, cálmate,” he hushes carefully, holding you close to him. “We’ll getcha cleaned up in a little bit, I’ll make you whatever you fancy for supper and relax with you, sound good?”

A nod suffices his question, knowing you trust him enough to stay rather than run off eases him as he grounds you back to reality with his warm embrace.

to stay up to date on when I post fics, follow @pascalpvnk-writes and turn on notifications! i hope you enjoyed xx

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #my writing #fic: take it from me

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littlemoonglow · 8 months

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Warning: Long post?

—

Jason did not expect his ghost form to feel…like this.

(Oh, dealing with his body randomly phasing through the ground and smacking his face onto hard concrete was not fun, but Jason dealt with that just like with every other hurdle in his life. By being more stubborn than the problem itself.)

It felt like something… settled into place. That was the best way he could describe it.

He felt as if spite and anger were finally not the only things keeping him awake and running.

He felt calm, almost. Stable, at least. Whatever pent up energy that was stuck in his chest cavity now flowed freely throughout his body, redistributed, instinctually easier to manage.

It's almost like he could breathe a little bit easier.

(After much… ranting that Jason decided to ignore for his own sanity, Danny said that his case ectoplasmic corruption was probably due to the fact that Death, as a concept, doesn’t let go of things easily, time shenanigans notwithstanding.)

(Becoming a half-ghost was seemingly the only working compromise.)

—

Danny once told him that broad strokes of a ghost’s personality could be guessed by looking at their physical appearance.

Despite the cool powers, this was a slight downside. Jason dealing with the filth of the Earth meant that being to hide his emotions and who he is was kind of important. Life saving, even.

He realized later on that his ghost form was way too easy to read.

—

He looked at his arms covered in bandages, and got reminded of the amount of times he had to patch himself up in the last month.

His jacket was ripped in place he knew that would have been sewn together when he was a living breathing human (well, as much as he could be).

He always looked slightly on fire?

(Danny told him it's probably related to his... core?)

(He know he died in an explosion but really?)

And then, there was his… veil? Shroud? Cloak?

It looked really nice.

But on the other hand…

It drooped when he felt under the weather. It flicked and thrashed around when he’s either irritated or barely holding back his urge to headshot someone.

And—

(No Danny, my cloak was not fucking wagging when you brought me fresh ectoplasm last week, you’ll have to get your goddamn eyes checked—)

He'll deny it until the day he dies (a second time).

And then his cloak could sometimes just…grow bigger. He figured that it acted as an extension of his own body, and had a nice add-on of allowing him to sense things he couldn't see. Hell, he could even make a hand out of it (wacking Danny with it - gently - never gets old). Jason had to also admit it looked cool, with the wispy bits and with one of its sides becoming a bright yellow.

(It reminded him a bit of his time as Robin.)

—

Being a ghost had a lotta perks.

Dealing with targets was so much easier when no one could see you. Inflitration was so much simpler when walls became optional. Cameras will glitch out when he's around, he left no traces visible to the naked eye and, combined with his training, to say that it was useful would be an understatement.

But, sometimes, he feels like he’s changing as well the more he transforms. Not drastically, but enough for him to look back and notice.

He usually was someone who prided on being efficient and straight to the point.

But now he’s starting to… have fun.

He started using his claws whenever he could. Don't het him wrong, he still uses his guns plenty, but there was just something deeply satisfying about vaulting over things, scaling a wall or crawling on the ceiling with bare hands.

(Punching people is still the most satisfying by far, though.)

That one time hunting down the Joker wannabes was fun too.

(Danny said he’d get along great with Skulker? Did Jason want to find out? No.)

Fading in and out of invisibility, he picked them off one by one, watching as panic and dread slowly but surely creeped up on the remaining ones.

(After all, he has no respect for those trying to emulate the dead clown.)

—

(Yeah, the Joker was dead.)

(Surprisingly, that has not been a good day.)

—

One of the favorite things he liked to do was rooftop parkour. The… bendability of gravity is… fun, not gonna lie.

(Not flying though. Jason is used to having feet in regular contact with solid ground, thank you very much. No offense, Danny.)

But he gets why ghosts love to fly. When he’s jumping from rooftop to rooftop in Gotham in the at night, watching the city light fly by, cloak spread behind him, it’s as if nothing else matters.

(No Joker, no petty criminals to beat up, no avoiding the Bats so they don’t find out about his existence—)

He can just enjoy, even just for a little bit.

—

(Somehow the Demon Brat and Orphan could sense him. Will keep and eyes on those two, and also the more reasons to avoid them.)

(The real problem was the new Bat in town. Bruce, what the fuck, another one? Again?)

(The yellow one, Signal. No time to check his profile yet, but probably a meta or something.)

(First night out and the guy almost managed to actually fucking see him —looked at him straight in the eyes and all, then did a double take. Jason never phased into the pavement so fast in his entire fucking life.)

(And so far no Bats on his cloak tails yet.)

(He did help the guy incognito, just a couple of times.)

(And he also did steal his escrima sticks for fun, and once the guy went out looking for them, he’d put them right back where they were.)

(Turns out, he discovered later, that being a little shit runs in the ghost community.)

—

(Sometimes he also wonders what happened to Danny before they met.)

(He wasn't a Gothamite, that was obvious. He doesn’t pry, but it doesn’t take a lot to piece two and two together.)

(He just wonders who he has to kill this time.)

—

(Jason could not believe he forgot and underestimated just how fucking persistent every single one of the Bats could be. Of course it had to run in the family.)

He gazed down, thought the agony, at the gaping wound under his right armpit.

(The Bats have been chasing him relentlessly for a while now. He got more injuries than he can count, especially from Bruce.)

(They know. Oh, they know.)

(It didn’t go well.)

(He knows the others are there surrounding him to prevent him from escaping, he knows that Dick is right behind him, but at the moment he couldn’t care less.)

It has been a long time since the last time he got shot.

(It felt like someone set his right side on fire.)

What was flowing out in abundance was a neon, toxic green.

(The Pit Waters, ectoplasm, he didn’t even know that he could fucking bleed in ghost form—)

(Danny—)

He looked back up at Batman, holding a (frankly) ugly gun, white casing and highlights in the same shade of toxic green.

(A gun that Danny warned him about. And everything behind it.)

Jason felt something in him... snap.

(Why did it have to be you, Bruce.)

His mouth opened—

(waitsincewhenhecoulddothatthroughtthe mask—)

(Jason could see the billows of neon green smoke—)

(He couldn’t see Bruce’s expression.)

(Every. Single. Goddamn. Time.)

— and wailed.

---------------------------------------------------

I am genuinely delighted that my last post got that much attention! Thank you so much, to all who liked, rebblogged and commented, it really does mean the most. 💕

This AU may be continued? No guarantees, tho.

For those interested: Part 01

@fandomnerd103 @phoenixdemonqueen @satisfactionbroughtmeback @ascetic-orange @apointlessbox @bathildaburp @fisticuffsatapplebees @aisforanonymity @phandomhyperfixationblog @help-i-need-a-cool-username @hashtagdrivebywrites @did-i-miss-anyone-tagging-is-a-monk's-job-first-time-doing-this-aaaaaaaaaaaaaa

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xuchiya · 2 months

Text

need to know [j.yunho]

₊˚.༄ || filth valentines m.list || hongjoong || seonghwa || yunho || yeosang || san || mingi || wooyoung || jongho || ₊˚.༄

₊˚.༄ I heard from a friend of a friend That dick was a ten out of ten ₊˚.༄

Yunho has been busy lately and you were not liking one bit of it. It has been weeks since you wanted to hang out with him and considering that he had been rejecting your invites; maybe it is time to spend some days without and let yourselves be on your own stories.

You can't blame Yunho for taking responsibility for his father's company so why would be a bad friend to him?

You dress up in less clothing for your stream much less by a short crop hoodie that shows a little of your cleavage then your tiny boxer shorts. A streamer of summer, that was your nickname given by your fans— Summer. You have always been a streamer for playing horror whether be a psychological or thrill chasing games, maybe sometimes by playing valorant.

You were at first called out for dressing way too– short nonetheless you explain that you tend to be really comfortable with playing in less clothing and people see your excellence in playing. You throw on anti-rad glasses before starting your stream, “What is up my dudes! It’s your streamer– Summer and we’ll continue playing Poppy Playtime!”

While waiting for the game to load, you read the comments, “Looking good as always … Thank you … Playing alone today? Yeah since they didn’t want to play this one. San is too scared … Where’s Yunho? Oh he’s currently busy— he’s been busy nowadays so I had to play this alone. “

After the chapter ended, you were left with a heart attack and sore throat from getting sudden jump scare but overall you enjoy the whole game, you look towards at the camera, “Well that is it for the chapter 2 since the chapter 3 will be out soon and …” glancing at the time to see that you have been playing for just an hour, “aye it’s still early. Do you guys want me to play or just talk with you guys?”

Some comments were saying to talk since it has been a while since you went live so you went with their request, “Okay okay I’ll answer some questions then …”

“Since when did I start playing? I think it was around 3 years ago that I started streaming through the gameplays? I was 14 when I started doing my gameplays …”

“You dance? Of course, Yeosang and Wooyoung are actually my classmates in a studio we enrolled in.”

“Where’s Yunho? Oh he’s at work, I’m little sad he has not been spending time with me like … Tell me your schedule, I got a lotta new tricks for you .. I’M KIDDING HAHAHA!”

“Do you like Doja Cat? Yes, a hundred percent yes, I’m a huge fan of hers speaking of that …” You opened your phone to show them your last song you listened to, “I swear this is my go to song when I’m feeling myself you know…” You chuckle showing them a hand gesture down to our body. Some of your fans ask you to play the song, some of them want you to sing or mouth the lyrics, you cackle at the last one.

“I can’t do that, it looks weird but we can still let this play and talk …” The music plays—affecting not only your fans, not you who is feeling the actual lyrics but the one who has been watching from their phone ever since you started streaming.

“Do you want to know a french word? Je suis excite.. Je suis excite, that means I’m excited right? Excite probably is exciting .. Am I right?” you said your eyes were widened a little bit, looking at the comment section for confirmation and you see some were saying yes, right and correct.

But little did you know, it meant something different else.

Their pants had made themselves quite uncomfortable, tight and suffocating as their eyes not only stare at your gameplay but at your display cleavage. As much as they tried to not to look like a pervert but how could he— He has desires that he tried to stir away; afraid to ruin your friendship but with you said those words as if telling him that you are horny. Adding to the fact you just said something along the line of having ‘tricks’.

“Ohmygosh I should go to sleep or Seonghwa-oppa would smack me in the head … I’ll see you guys soon.” You did your outro and the live ended.

Yunho tucked back his phone, walking inside your shared apartment. He and you were able to share an apartment under your brother’s permission since they both work for the same company and he did not mind as long as you both had an agreement or house rules settled.

Those words were a huge trigger to him as he had been evading your presence; as much as dumb it sounds, his dick can not cooperate with him. Whether you were in your hoodie or favourite pajamas, nothing beats when he wants you all for himself. Love you, praise you, worship you, choke you, dick you down—

“Oh yuyu!” You were startled when you exit your room to see Yunho leaning on the counter with a cold drink in his hand, his eyes landing on your figure and all his last string snap when you just walk in with your zipper open, exposing your tits out.

You tried to cover them last minute but Yunho was faster, grabbing your wrist, spinning you to pin you on his chest. He leaned down, voice gruff from the pain in his pants and overwhelming horniness spilling out of his body, “nice way to greet me … tits out? Do you walk around with this …” his other free hand ran up to your chest, playing with your nipple and giving it a squeeze, making you moan a little too loud but to Yunho's liking.

“I-I thought you won’t be home … fuck! “ Yunho breathy laugh, giving your other boob the same treatment but this time adding a slap on it, your back arching in the pain and pleasure making your ass brush up on his hard dick in his pants.

“Feel that? you’re the cause of it … now be a good girl for me and choke yourself on my cock.”

“F-fuck! … Yunho– Oh my God!” your face was red and sweaty from how many hours Yunho had you pinned down on your bed, taking you from behind; had his dick ramming himself back and forth, hitting every inch of your walls then his tip knocking at your cervix several times as if trying to reach a deeper part of you to bury his cum.

“You don’t know how long i wanted to fuck you so dumb that it makes me want to go faster and harder on you .. do you like that? Do you want me to keep hammering you down on this bed like a bitch on heat?” You never knew Yunho was into this kind of thing, rough and mouthy.

You were crying out of pleasure as Yunho drilled his cock deeper and deeper until you clench around him that had him smacking his (veiny) hands on your ass, “Yu-Yunho— eugh fuck– I’m gonna cum, gonna cum– !” Yunho continues slamming his hips as your eyes roll back as you reach your orgasm, creaming his dick and milking him dry. Yunho chuckles, wrapping one of his hands around your throat, pulling you closer, bottomless.

“You like that huh? You like it when I fuck you this hard?” You dive on the sheets, Yunho's pace persistent in making his dick wet and creamy on your puffy pussy. You look over your shoulders, engulfed in overwhelming bliss, you speak with assertive tone, “clap me, choke me, bite me Yunho.”

Yunho pulls out, leaving just the tip inside as he adjust his grip from your throat down to your hips, in spite of that he shoves back while you pulling back, “FUCK!” you cried, your fingers circling around his wrist, “Yu-yu — wait you’re going too fast.”

He shakes his head, his eyebrows arching, tongue poking the inside of his cheek, “I haven’t cum yet and we can fuck all night baby.” He keep thrusting back and forth,leaning forward to grasp both of your nipples in his fingers, twisting, pulling them.

Your head swirling with so much euphoria that it sent electricity vibrating down your pussy as you were reaching your second orgasm quickly, this time a little different from the last one, long strings of ‘oh’ and ‘fuck’.

“Tell me baby, i need to know one thing …” He licks his lips, pressing you on his bare chest, continue to pound inside of you, almost nearing his climax, “come on baby, i didn’t fuck you that dumb did i? Now answer me.”

You were breathing hastily, orgasm around the corner but you know best that if you don’t speak now, Yunho won’t let you cum, “Wh-What is it?”

“Have you been fantasising about this one? Did someone tell you?” You nodded, your head moving swiftly, you felt his chest vibrate as he breathy laughs, “Yeah?

“ y-yes…”

“From who?”

Your throat clogged yet you oblique, moaning when his tip brushes on your cervix once again, your dignity slowly crashing but who could you blame? You were fantasising all of this for the longest time that you slipped out to one of your friends about your huge daydream to Yunho that one of your friends may or may not slip about him.

“I heard .. I heard from a friend of a friend … that your dick is better than their exes.” His hip halted, pulling out— groaning at the emptiness but you were taken back when Yunho pulled you off the bed and towards your balcony; your eyes widened as he pushes you the makeshift knitted lounge chair.

“Well one …” yunho’s lips brush on your ears warmly, “I have never met your friends …” He inserted himself back in, slamming back on your pussy, “And second well .. they’re not wrong.”

Yunho pace didn’t falter as he locked his arms on yours, your arms pulled on your back; your chest full on display, bouncing each time Yunho hammered back. Broken groans left Yunho and you were also reaching your climax, “Fuck yunho!”

“Take my cum like a good girl!” Your eyes were clouded in euphoria, feeling full as he spurted all his cum inside you, painting your walls white. Your hole clenches on his dick before gushes of your juice burst, wetting his dick and the lounge chair.

Yunho let go of your arms and replace his softening dick with his fingers, brushing them left and right as you squirt, your lips puckering

“Oh look at that, such a good girl. Keep squirting baby~” Yunho slaps, wipe your pussy letting you ride on your orgasm before he pulls away. Your knees gave out, thankfully Yunho caught you, wrapping his arms around your shoulder and at the back of your knees. He leads you both to your bathroom, setting you on the cold marble tile of your sink.

Yunho settles you on the bathtub, warm water with bubbles of rose were floating on the water. You sigh contentedly, “Is this what I get for flashing you my boobs to you?”

He laughs, shaking his head as he settles at the other end of the tub, “You want a princess treatment?” His eyes watch you carefully, cheek flaring. You played with the foam bubbles, “If you don’t mind me being your girlfriend then yeah, I want a princess treatment.”

Yunho leans towards you, leaving a soft kiss on your lips, "Deal."

It was something you and Yunho had in common. Straightforwardness. Yet here you both are, in a situation you thought is just all in your head and fantasy.

#ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez hard thoughts #ateez smut #ateez hard hours #ateez fic #atz #jeong yunho #ateez jeong yunho #yunho smut #ateez yunho #yunho #yunho x reader #ateez #ateez fanfic #atz smut

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neptunes-sol-angel · 6 months

Text

BOO! 👻🎃🕸 How are you scaring people with their shadows? Pick the picture(s) that you're drawn to the most then scroll down for the corresponding message(s). Happy Halloween my Sol-cherubs!!

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Pile One

"SHE AIN'T NO DIVAAA!"

You trigger others in a way that threatens their confidence and provoke them into a cycle of evaluating their self worth and identity after an ego death that's probably been long overdue. Some people in this group may hinder themselves back from speaking to people about anything in general, like expressing your opinion on something, talking about yourself, joining in a conversation so that you can be outgoing and network with others because you could feel like developing normal interactions with others is difficult for you. You could feel that people may find what you have to say as meaningless, they could even talk over you, or maybe you fear that people will hate you for what you say. You could also find yourself in too many situations where people are dedicated to misunderstanding you by twisting what you say or snubbing you. But despite their reactions, people strongly value what you say, and are often changed personally by even just a few words that you mention and could still think about what you've said years later whether it's from a normal conversation or an argument. I feel called to mention to this group that you shouldn't restrain yourself by muting your verbal expression in order to please others, because I'm getting that even though you aren't aware that there are people who want to listen and do listen to what you have to say and will like and respect you for who you are, you understand the weight of your words and the repercussions you face when you defend yourself and but there are times you don't in order to keep the peace. You must understand that peace is simply an illusion when you keep putting your feelings and wellbeing aside to keep people that are not even for you in your life. Tip toeing around others is not what's going to keep you safe—you gotta step on some toes to free yourself. This group has to learn both when it isn't your fault for when you trigger someone and when it is. Because I'm getting that another part of this group is more so in the darker aspect of this trait, you don't hold your tongue for anyone and when someone goes low, you go to straight to the pits of hell. You're fully aware of how you know just the right words to break someone and to intentionally offend them. Your brutal honesty isn't needed all of the time and sometimes you're not being blunt, you're just being an asshole. Reserve your poison for the people that deserve it, but it will benefit you to learn that the same way the magnitude of your words can be poison to others it also be venom used to help others heal. I know it may feel like that someone's always trying it with you but you gotta calm down and start seeing the good in humanity, because not everyone is a piece of filth that you need to sweep. The shadow work that you make other people do eventually creates a balance that keeps their egos in check and where their humility is holding them back.

Pile Two

What's chilling about you is how elusive you are. This can mean a variety of things, but one of the scenarios that I'm getting is that this pile could be adamant when it comes to holding grudges. People hate that you don't forgive them because it gives them a reality check with how entitled they feel to treat others and how they expect them to react about it afterwards. You seem to unfortunately attract a lot of people that don't take any accountability. They show up as either someone who feels like they have the right to mistreat others and have control over how their victims feel or perceive the situation or people who have lived their entire lives as victims but are in disbelief when they are in situations where they have made someone else a victim so they manipulate the situation to confirm their bias and lack of self awareness. These people are possessive over outcomes and how they want to be seen. You are very much capable of forgiving others, but you are strong with your boundaries to the point where you don't make yourself accessible anymore to the people have hurt you and this confuses them. They're used to thinking that words have more meaning than their actions or that forgiveness is something that's automatically given when asked for it, but you show them that's not exactly how it works. This makes them have to unpack guilt that they will deal with for a very long time or your absence reminds them of how powerless that they feel. Both are situations that are hard to sit with alone so these people may tend to latch on others and surround themselves with company. The shadow work that you make others do is to reflect on situations where they are habitually self-undoing.

Pile Three

What makes other people shook about you, is how unmoved you are but how you always seem to ironically move others. You could have this radical intelligence and self sufficiency where you don't care who's on your level or not. You could be isolated by others a lot, and on the outside it could look like you're out of touch with humanity, but no, you're actually way ahead of your time, they just need to catch up. The same things that people have tried to shun you for, end up becoming trends in the future. You guys are very secure with yourself and it intimidates others, but you've grown or will grow to not let that effect you anymore. I see that your purpose involves leading others. You guys could be coaches to help people break habits that maladaptively stagnate their lives, you keep yourself strong, in order to pass this on to others who finally decide that they to help themselves. Your insight isn't going to be accepted by the majority because those people are still stuck on outward appearances or are complacent with their own delusions, and it's not your responsibility to help everyone, but you're good at what you do and you have the potential to save a lot of lives with the changes that you help other people make within themselves. It doesn't even have to solely be changes either, you could motivate others to recognize what they already have within themselves too and that's so empowering. If you guys are tarot readers that are feeling down about the messages that you're trying to bring to people, I'm getting that you guys need to keep going, what you're doing is meaningful even if you can't physically see it, you awaken others deeply to things that they may not be ready to publicly share with others so give it time and remember your mission. You aren't here to entertain any thoughts of staying the same, you are here to promote growth. Don't downplay your gifts, you know what you know.

#divination #intuitive #psychic #pick a card #tarot #spirituality #pac #tarotblr #tarot community #the tarot community #pick a pile #pick a picture #halloween #spooky szn

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weebsinstash · 2 months

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"So I'm thinkin. You and three huge guys are getting it on and its really hot and oily and then its revealed your on a boat and its sinking so you all have to cum as fast as you can"

THIS is coming from the "no one watches porn for the dialogue" guy?

So Valentino's porn isn't even GOOD?

My fingers are itching they're itching they're itching godddddd Valentino x porn writer Reader where he gets so fucking smug and acts like you're so sweet and innocent and you don't know what's erotic and what's not and you just stand your ground, "uh actually I'm pretty sure I could write something better than you" and he demands you prove it and you're like sure fine, and whip out a revised script for something he wants to film that you've taken red pen ALLLLL over just because you were bored and you MAY HAVE been a little pissed off when you overheard his "porn plots/scripts are stupid" bullshit

You hand it to Travis (the director guy) because he isn't farsighted and can actually read it and he's just like "oh my god this is FILTH" and Val gets all cocky, "see, told you you didn't know what you were-" and Travis interrupts, "NO, this is FILTH, this is HOT, OH MY GOD???" and he starts reading some of the lines to Valentino who's looking at you AGHAST like "my sweet innocent lil boo is KINKY???" it's like a Christmas present

People write prompts about "oh what if Reader wrote porn and had to read their script to Val" but I haven't seen anyone mention that because Valentino is implied to be farsighted with poor close range vision, you would probably HAVE TO read the scripts to him because he's half blind lmao

I can think of at least 3 different porn plots involving boats that are instantly more engaging than this and it's purely because there's a lil plot thrown in there and now I can't stop thinking about a Reader who digs their own kinky, kinky hole by deciding they need to "prove Val wrong" by writing porn that completely blows his tits off and at that point he wants to hire you to work for him (and may even force you to)

#yandere hellaverse #yandere x reader #hh #sinprompts #yandere hazbin hotel

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mobbu-min · 1 year

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☆ bragging rights ☆

(ft. the vice housewardens + ruggie)

After reading this fic where reader brags about the dorm leaders, could I request a version with the vice dorm leaders? And maybe the first years in the future? requested by anon PLEASE!! I LOVE YOUR FIC ABOUT BRAGGING THE DORMLEADER SIMPING RANT TO THE FIRST YEARS SHSBSJS MAKES ME ALL FLUFF 😭 Could you perhaps one day make the vice dorm vers, please?? no pressure of course— i just need all those fluff making me giggling at midnight on my bed because of the fluff its so CUTE!! requested by anon This https://at.tumblr.com/mobbu-min/request-what-if-the-dorm-leaders-had-an-so/qt4e3a02k8z8 this right here was the cutest shit I've ever read. If it's not too much to ask of you, is it alright if we had a version with the Vice Dorm Leaders? Jamil's either gon be smug as fuck or shocked. requested by anon

a/n i decided to put Ortho in the first year part which is probably going to be posted tomorrow tbh

tw cursing and reader is horny for a lot of them

want more? here is part one: bragging rights

Trey + Ace/Deuce <3

⋆ Ace can understand why you’d brag about Trey. I mean it’s Trey Clover. Literally the most husband material of the husbands. He’s good looking, can bake, smells nice, cleans well, can bake, is good with kids (at least what Ace has heard), is perfect at dealing with Riddle. Did he mention that Trey can bake? Anyways, Ace actually doesn’t have anything bad to say. Sure you’re annoying and Ace can’t seem to look Trey in the eyes after all the filth that comes out of your mouth. He can’t delete the memory of you ogling Trey while he was bending down to get something out of the oven and drooling, ‘man, what I would do to get a bite out of that ass’. He legit considered drowning his eardrums in bleach, yuck.

⋆ Same as Ace, but he gets so flustered everytime you say anything remotely dirty. But anyways, Deuce actually really loves the way you talk so highly and lovingly of Trey. Like yeah, it’s a little much and kinda makes Deuce feel like a third wheel despite the fact Trey is very much not present, but Deuce can’t help but want someone that would talk about him so highly as well. Also, he knows that Trey would take wonderful care of you and that’s all he could ask for.

⋆ Trey is both shocked and happy. He’s pretty much used to people overlooking him because let's be honest, out of everyone in the dorm (hell probably the school), he’s the most normal one out there. But knowing that you’re willing to talk anyone’s ears off just about him makes him chuckle. You sure are something else, huh? Well, Trey doesn’t mind, actually he’ll probably show up at Ramshackle with your favorite sweet and show you what these hands can do~

He’s going to give you a massage, nasties

Ruggie + Jack <3

⋆ A respecter of his elders, Jack feels a sense of pride when you talk so highly of Ruggie. Though at first, he mistakes it as admiration and respect just like Jack feels for Ruggie, but something about the way your eyes light up and cheeks brighten quickly gives him another impression. Listen, Jack adores you and wants what's best for, however, that doesn’t mean Jacks wants to listen to your hour long rants about Ruggie. Again, Jack’s a chill guy, so he’ll water his plants and do other chores while you trail after him like a little duckling. It’s cute really

⋆Ruggle like ‘are they talking about me? You’re joking, nu-uh….oh shit!’ He gets so smug about it. His tail literally wags back and forth so fast he considers taping it to his side. Ruggie definitely wasn’t expecting it, because one, you hang out with a ton of cool people, and two, Ruggie is constantly messing with you (affectionately ofc). He definitely sees your relationship in a new light. Maybe he wouldn’t mind sharing some food sometime, just a thought.

Jade + Grim <3

⋆ Grim is so fuckin scared. He doesn’t know if it’s for you, or for him, all he knows is that he’s running for the hills anytime he sees that tall ass fucker. Like literally, you just had to choose the scariest person ever to simp for huh? You know that tiktok sound where it’s all like “Shut the fuck up! I’m so fuckin scared rn!”, yeah that’s Grim. Always on the verge of shitting himself or fighting Jade. Grim has not known peace.

⋆Jade is pleasantly surprised. Originally, he’s all like ‘I can totally get something out of this’ but eventually you wormed your way into his heart. Does he protest? No, because you’re genuinely the most interesting creature he’s ever met. Jade considers you one the most precious pearls in the world. So knowing you consider him a worth enough person to brag about makes him beyond happy. However, don’t expect that this relieves you of his teasing, because he finds this a perfect opportunity to amp it up.

Jamil + Grim <3

⋆ There’s two things that run through Grim mind when you ‘shockingly’ confess that you have the hots for Jamil. One, didn’t he literally kidnap us?! And two, hell yeah! Food! Grim walks a thin line between wanting to be mad at Jamil for what he did during winter break and falling in love with him instead, because damn, when Grim heard the saying ‘the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach’ he didn’t realize how true it was until Jamil became a recurring face in his life.

⋆ Jamil is both shocked and smug. Like, he expected you to fall for Kalim, because he has money and is emotionally available. But! The fact that you didn’t fall for Kalim makes him 100x more smug! Like for once, Jamil beats Kalim and doesn’t have to a) feel burdened by it or 2) feel guilty. So it's a win-win situation! Jamil is calculating and observant, so he decided to go a safe route and cook you all your favorite food as a confession. And damn, he did not expect you to cry and wipe your boogers all over your sleeve because you were so happy. Maybe he can get used to it.

Rook + Epel <3

⋆ You really know how to choose ‘em huh? Epel is literally at his wit's end. All you talk about is Rook and all Rook talks about is you. And both you have a very weird and honestly, freaky, way of saying how much you love each other. Out of the two, Epel would much rather listen to Rook, because at least Epel doesn’t understand a word that comes out of his baguette loving mouth. But you? Epel swears that once he gets home he’s going to get his meemaw to wash out all the filthy things you said about Rook and what you wanted him to do to you. He realizes he’d much rather listen to Vil nag him. Just give the poor boy a break!

⋆ Okay okay okay, he’s known since the beginning. He knows it all! It’s so fuckin creepy, but damn does that make things ten times easier. Rook is instantly sweeping you off your feet and into bed to make all the things you said come true. He’s a gentleman, what can he say? Rook loves that you like to brag about him, it’s just so beautiful knowing that you both want each other. He can just explode at the thought.

And he does…please interpret that however you like…

Lilia + Sebek <3

⋆ YOU TRULY ARE STUBBORN HUMAN!??!?!? Sebek is so fucking stingy about it. Like damn, okay you damn overgrown cucumber! Be stingy! Like that’s not going to stop you from getting laid. Does Sebek care though? No! Because he’s mean! Or more like, he doesn’t understand. But that's beside the point! Sebek will not let you get close to Lilia, not in his presence! What if you want to consume his mind and eat his brains?! Sebek can’t even imagine! Will fight you anytime and anywhere! Name the place, and he swears your ass is grass!

⋆ Okay, but alternatively, Sebek is a lot like how he was with Malleus and is all like ‘Yeah! Master Lilia is truly amazing! Human, you might actually be smart!’ and you’re just there with the widest grin because Sebek is your way to getting what you want(that being getting your guts rearranged). And everytime you come to him with the weirdest questions, Sebek merely bats his eyes and answers it without a second thought. Like ‘Of course, it’s big! It’s huge actually! Ginormous!...Eh, Human!? Why do you look ill?...Human, I haven't the slightest idea of what you could be referring to, but I was talking about his generosity. What else could there be that’s as big as his heart and wisdom?...tch, you better not get My Great Lord ill!”

⋆ Oh! How scandalous! You’re making him blush! Don’t you know it’s rude to make an old man’s heart want to burst? Literally cackles and gives you a big ass kiss. The things you do to this old man, like damn, he feels young again. Lilia is actually so funny about it because he wants to see you duel it out with Sebek for his hand, how lovely would that be? But also wants to whisk you away so you both can ‘game’ instead. Ugh, so many choices. Maybe he’ll let you both fight, so he can kiss your boo-boo’s away. How romantic!

Sebek do not question why I'm wobbling out of lilia’s room. Memories were made last night!

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therhythmafterthesummer · 8 months

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A Mutually Beneficial Agreement (M) ~Bang Chan | [1/3]

Pairing: Demon!Chan x F.Reader Themes: Supernatural AU | Smut | Established Relationship (kind of) Word Count: ~3k | AO3 Synopsis: How ironic... to have found yourself entangled with a demon called Christopher, of all things. Some people would’ve made you believe he was taking advantage of you. But you knew better. [Find part 2 here]. Warnings: pet names · there seems to be specks of plot in my corn (pwp) · Chris has horns and a tail (feels like that deserves a warning on its own) · graphic depictions of intercourse (smut warnings under the cut).

Author’s Note: finally sat down to finish this idea i had ages ago. i’ve been in a bit of a slump lately, so this was certainly a nice warm-up. this is all just filth, and i dedicate it to my fellow monster lovers. especial thanks to @notastraykid & @kisskissbanggang for reading this one and sharing their valuable thoughts with me. it means the world to me💜

Due to all the abovementioned warnings, this story is intended for an adult audience only. Minors please do not interact.

Part 2 >

Smut Warnings: literal monster cock · praising · smidge of degradation · unprotected penetration [piv & anal] (the reader is presumed to be on birth control) · the tail goes in places it probably shouldn’t go into · double penetration · minimal nipple action.

Disclaimer: the story presented in this work does not represent Stray Kids in any way; anything described in this story and all actions performed by the characters are purely fictional, this was created just for good fun.

“You’re so warm, sweetheart…” Chris mumbled against your cheek, all while he held your jaw in place with his hand.

“So warm and soft…”

With his chest partially against your back, one of your legs over his hip, keeping your legs as spread open as much as this position allowed, Chris kept each thrust controlled, and his rhythm steady.

“So… mortal…”

The feeling of his cock splitting you open repeatedly had your mind disconnected from anything that wasn’t him and you on this bed, and it wasn’t like you wanted it to be any other way.

You weren’t really sure how long you’d been here, much less how many times either of you had reached that perfect peak. Your thoughts were just muddied images, the only thing you could see clearly was Chris.

Chris, and his charming smile, and his ageless eyes, and the horns on his head, and his perfect nose…

The weight of his arm on your chest and the tight hold on your jaw felt heavenly, just like his length within your walls did.

“Mortal, but incredibly talented… Perfectly capable of… taking me, of giving me everything. Hm?”

His voice was but a whisper against your cheek. There was no way you wouldn’t have been able to hear him when he was this close, when you both were one and the same with how intertwined you were, when every single one of your senses were solely focused on him…

It wasn’t just his length or what he was saying that had your mind hazy. It was also the pants and groans and grunts he let out, all the kisses he pressed on the side of your face, and the feeling of his thick tail wrapped around your waist.

Chris had a way with words, and whenever he talked like this to you, whenever he let out his thoughts completely unfiltered while you had sex, you couldn’t help but feel tingly all over. Aroused, warmer, wetter…

“Can’t talk, darling?” Chris mumbled, each word made his lips brush against the skin of your cheek. He pressed a lingering kiss on your skin, keeping the pace of his hips just as steady as he had this entire time, unfaltering, somewhat slow, but precise.

You opened your mouth to speak, to confirm what he’d said much earlier. That yes, yes you were more than capable of taking anything he wanted to give you, that you could talk. But, honestly, you couldn’t really confirm that, not when what came out of your mouth instead was a moan.

He chuckled, clearly amused. So amused he quickened his pace, further clouding your reason. Just his mere presence set your insides alight, that, added to his motions, to his words, was just so incredibly dangerous. He had your mind going all fuzzy, drunk on his aura and the feel of him.

A priest would tell you this was all a curse, that the demon laying here with you was manipulating you for his own gain, enhancing your lust and sins so he could ultimately devour you whole for his own pleasure.

But you knew better.

There was no way you wouldn’t have known better, when this arrangement had been going for so long. Chris had always made it very clear that he’d never used any spell or mind control to make you do the things you did, his presence simply enhanced what was already there.

And you believed him.

‘Sinful little human, aren’t you?’ You could still remember the first time he told you that, back when you found him by a tree in the town’s cemetery.

You’d given in to him so easily… And, honestly? You had no regrets. Zero regrets.

Especially when he was fucking you this good, when he fucked you this good several nights a week.

‘All these endorphin rushes keep us healthy, hm?’ Chris said sometimes, and you couldn’t help but agree. Sometimes you were groggy and achy the next day, but you were certainly satisfied, even happy… What an odd emotion to feel thanks to a demon.

“Have you gone dumb already?” Chris chuckled. You felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment, but you nodded anyway. Because it was true, you couldn’t even speak at this point. “Aww, pretty little human has gone dumb on my cock, poor thing…”

There was something about his condescending tone that made pleasure pool in the pit of your stomach, that made your lower belly tighten further. Needy, needy, needy, needy… You could almost hear his voice in your mind, and you honestly wouldn’t be surprised if it truly was him speaking to you. It wouldn’t have been the first time his thoughts slipped into yours while you both got lost in each other.

Chris’ hand loosened its grip on your face, while his tail unravelled from around your waist. His fingers ghosted all the way down your torso, between your breasts, over your belly, until they reached that borderline overstimulated nub between your legs. You couldn’t help but mewl, a sound that was almost pathetic to your ears. Not only because of his motions on your clit, but also because his tail had made its way up your body, until it found one of your nipples to rub it gently with its tapered tip.

It was so much. He was so much. And, somehow, you still couldn’t get enough.

“C’mon, pretty thing”, Chris was panting, diligently stimulating those pleasure points of your body in just the exact way you needed him to, in that way you’d shown him how to all those months ago. “Aren’t you gonna bless me with another? I need it, darling. And I know you need it, too”.

His pace picked up, until he was almost brutally ramming into you, stretching you open to your very limits, stimulating your insides in ways only the bumps and ridges of his very supernatural cock could. You were certainly close, and you knew that it wouldn’t take long for you to finally come undone under his enticing motions.

You could barely register the sound of his name coming out of your mouth, not only because of how quiet you’d said it, but also because your mind was going completely numb, hazy as you drew closer and closer to that ledge. With the rough pad of his fingers, with the texture of the tip of his tail, Chris worked you up, and, just like you’d predicted, in a matter of minutes, you fell face first into that pool of burning ecstasy that Chris himself had prepared for you.

The feeling raked throughout your body, extending from your core to every single one of your limbs. You couldn’t tell if you were moaning, or crying, or saying his name. You couldn’t tell what was going on outside of the feeling of Chris’ skin on your own, of his breath against your cheek.

“That’s it, baby. I love it when you tremble for me. You’re so good, doing so well…” Chris whispered the words in your ear. You could barely hear them over the sound of your own heart beating within them.

Gasping for air, you released Chris’ tail from your grip. You honestly hadn’t even realised you’d grabbed it in your orgasm-induced frenzy. The tip of it had finally stopped stimulating your nipples. Instead, it found its way between your legs to replace his fingers on your clit, just to apply pressure on it to prolong the final waves of your climax while he used his now unoccupied hand to turn your head towards him so he could kiss you.

His thrusts had stopped, his tongue, forked and slightly textured, was gentle when it moved against your own, and his thumb softly caressed your cheek as you were barely conscious enough to kiss him back. The taste of him was addictive, his throbbing length within your warmth made you dizzier, and it was at moments like these that you were reminded of why you always let him into your bed.

Because you just couldn’t get enough.

When you fully came down from your high, you figured he’d start ramming into you once again so he could reach his own relief. Instead, he removed his hand from your face and brought it to your lower abdomen, where it settled to caress the skin.

“Say…” Chris mumbled, pressing a quick, brief peck on your lips before he pulled out of your walls.

The loss of contact almost made you whine, but when his hand left your lower abdomen, and you started feeling the slick tip of his cock against the sensitive skin of your ass, you looked at him through half lidded eyes, holding your breath in anticipation.

“Would you let me come in your perfect little hole, pet?” Chris’ tail moved away from your core to wrap around your thigh, squeezing the supple flesh as he continued to rub the head of his length over the ridged skin between your buttocks.

You swallowed, licking your lips while you nodded. You didn’t trust your voice right now, you just knew you were almost trembling with excitement at the thought. It had only been a couple of days, but you certainly missed the stretch, just his fingers earlier in the evening hadn’t been enough.

“Say it”, Chris reached for the bottle of lube that had been discarded next to the pillows, like he was sure you were going to comply.

And he was right. You were going to comply, you wanted to, needed to…

“Please…” Your voice was hoarse, low, tired after all the involuntary noises that had been escaping your mouth, but you did say the one thing you knew he wanted you to. And as soon as you did, you heard his deep intake of breath.

His tail moved your thigh, closing your legs, and your body moved instinctively, laying fully on your side so Chris could press his chest completely against your back. With a hand on your buttock, you helped him keep yourself spread open, exposed so the lubed tip of his cock could start pushing against the ring of muscle between your cheeks.

Breathing deeply, you willed yourself to relax, and after a few moments, he finally breached past the initial resistance, slowly, but steadily filling your ass with his monstrous cock. Chris groaned behind you, nuzzling your shoulder. You just whined, already feeling yourself heating up with the feel of him going into your hole.

As soon as he bottomed out, his hand found its way to your lower belly, gripping your soft flesh tightly while his sharp teeth scraped the skin of your shoulder. A shiver ran up your spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake. The feeling of fullness within you was absolutely mouth-watering, but, still, you wanted more.

Reaching for Chris’ tail on your thigh, you ran your fingers through the black snakeskin. The motion had him swearing under his breath, right next to your ear. The skin of his tail was smooth, sensitive, shining under the low lighting provided by the lamp in the corner of your room. The shimmer and iridescence was like nothing you’d ever seen before. Pretty… So, so pretty…

“Chris…”

“…Hm?”

“Move”.

Chris inhaled sharply behind you, tightening his grip on your belly, and finally started to move. Slowly at first, to ensure you felt every ridge, every bump of his length, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. Oh, what a satisfying stretch…

When you dragged your nails over the texture on his tail, Chris groaned, and his pace picked up considerably. His tail unfurled, releasing your thigh for blood to rush back to the area–you honestly hadn’t even realised how tight he’d been holding onto you. The mild numbness didn’t prevent you from feeling its movement, though.

Releasing your tummy to instead hook his hand under your knee, Chris pushed your leg towards your chest, giving his tail plenty room to find its way between your legs.

You could feel your legs tremble, your heart almost leaping out of your chest, and, in a poor attempt to ground yourself, you reached back, finding Chris’ soft strands. But, most importantly, finding one of his horns.

The moment you held onto the keratin covering, Chris swore, borderline moaned under your tightening grip around the base of it. Before you knew it, the tip of his tail was at your entrance, teasing your opening while Chris kept brutally and repeatedly pushing himself into your ass. There was nothing you could coherently say or do. You knew what he wanted, what you wanted, but you just couldn’t speak.

However, you really didn’t need to say anything, as you mindlessly caressed the base of his horn, his tail had finally plunged itself right into your sopping cunt. Full, full, full, oh, so full of Chris… Just how you wanted to be, how he wanted it to be…

Warm, warm, warm, wet, tight… Chris didn’t say any of this, but you could hear him clear as day, even through the fog coating your thoughts. He was losing himself as well, and you could feel yourself gush around his tail with how aroused the thought made you, with how good he was fucking both of your holes.

“How are you… this soft and warm, hm? Warm little human. Lewd, sinful, aren’t you? Giving yourself to a demon so wholly…” Chris mumbled the words against the skin of your shoulder, broken between groans and whines of his own as you kept stroking the horn in your hand, as you kept squeezing him tight.

You just nodded, incapable of telling him anything else. You could feel the flesh of your bum ripple with each collision of his hips, and it wasn’t long until his thrusts and the movement of his tail became an uncoordinated mess. He was close, and you’d be damned if you didn’t make the most of it yourself.

With your fingers on your clit, you rubbed quick circles as best as you could in this position. Uncaring of the desperate moans coming out of your mouth, at your motions, at the stretch of his cock in your ass, and his tail within your walls, nudging your sweet spot.

“Shit… Fuck, gonna–gonna blow, pretty thing”, Chris was panting, breathless after hours of indulging in you and your body, and you certainly weren’t doing any better. “Stuff you full of me… Want it, pet? Want that?”

You nodded, frantically rubbing your clit as you chased your relief, telling him that yes, yes you wanted it. You wanted anything he was willing to give you.

With a desperate plea of your name, Chris finally came. His tail stopped moving, but his thrusts didn’t, he kept fucking into you as he filled up your ass, whining once your own orgasm washed over you and you started to clamp hard around his appendages. Whines of your own escaped from between your lips, your grip on his horn tightened, eliciting more desperate pleas from the demon behind you.

After one final thrust, keeping his hips as flush as he could with your buttocks, Chris finally stilled. Your throat was dry after doing nothing but moaning and crying for a while, your chest rose and fell with your quick breaths, and you could feel Chris’ doing the same against your back.

When his tail left the comfort of your warmth, it snaked all the way up your body, until the tip pressed against your lips, which you eagerly opened to let it in.

As you swirled your tongue around the textured skin, you could taste yourself on it, something that didn’t displease you in the slightest. If you hadn’t just spent hours here, you were sure just the texture and the taste on your tongue would’ve been enough to heat you up all over again.

Chris pressed tired, lingering kisses on your shoulder, just as he pulled out of your ass. Slowly, his cum spilled out and onto the now more than ruined bedsheets, joining the mix of fluids that had ended up there throughout the evening.

When you finally let go of his horn, when his tail finally popped out of your mouth, you turned around, looking into those dark eyes of his that always made a shiver run up and down your spine. Chris just grinned, a wolfish grin that had you scoffing a small laugh and rolling your eyes.

Your limbs were achy, your eyes could barely stay open, but you still let him pull you into his arms when he stood up from the bed. The sheets behind you started moving on their own as he walked you to your bathroom, where he sat you down on the toilet so he could diligently clean you up. A shower just wouldn’t be possible right now, you could barely stand straight, so he just made do with a jug and a washcloth.

One wouldn’t think a demon would be this gentle, but Chris was probably the oddest demon you’d ever met. ‘If I’m gonna do something, I better do it right’, he often said, and as you came to find out, this was just an integral part of fucking you as the act itself.

When you were finally mostly dry, laying your head on his chest with the now clean bedding under you, you could feel your eyes droop, vaguely even registering the words coming out of Chris’ mouth.

“When you wake up tomorrow, I won’t be here. But, with a bit of luck, I’ll be back in a couple of nights”, he mumbled, quietly as he caressed your hair and your back.

You just hummed to let him know you’d heard him. Not like he needed to tell you that, since it was always like this. He’d appear, feed off of your lust, and disappear for a few nights. That was your arrangement. It wasn’t conventional, nor normal in any way, but it was what you had, and, for now, it was enough. It was just what you needed yourself.

A priest would certainly tell you this was all a curse, that the demon laying here with you, cuddling you, was manipulating you for his own gain. But what a priest wouldn’t have known at first glance, was that you had summoned this demon yourself. That the only reason you let him into your bed and feed off of you, was because, in a way, you fed off of him, too.

Part 2 >

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placeinthemiddleofnowhere · 1 year

Text

Gotta be a moron to wanna be a fighter

Pairing: König x Reader

Summary: You’re determined to find out why everyone thinks König is so scary, afterall he’s just some guy that’s taller than most people right? He’s probably harmless! Well, he’s a little scary, but you still like him anyway.

(No use of y/n or mention of gender/race)

Warning: Drinking, sex references

AN: Thank you for being so patient, this chapter has been a long time in the making 💕 Everyone's lovely comments and beautiful art have been giving me LIFE so thank you so much for continuing on with me! Also after this chapter there will be a Chapter 5.5 so to speak that will essentially just be filth without plot so people that read the series for fluff don't need to read it 😇 and people that want more will be indulged 😈 Enjoy! x

Part 5 of A Rocky Start - Full Masterlist Here

-☠️-

It was stupid, you were both aware of it. You’d get in trouble and be marked for life as liabilities if anyone found out, if even so much as one person saw you both and reported it back to Price. Reality was though, that neither of you could bear the thought of ending things. Sprinkle in a little hubris and it was a recipe for thinking you were above it all.

You felt secure in your hiding spot, shrouded in the bodies of the oblivious people around you, protected by the roar of the ramping conversations. Though, when it came down to it, it was more like you were the oblivious ones. All cuddled up close and murmuring to each other through an exchange of soft kisses and sweet promises that you could only hope were more than a shared dream.

You’d leaned as far off the stool as you could, magnetised to him. Body brushing up against König every chance that you could get, running your fingers along his scar torn arm, blinking syrupy slowly up at him and simpering like an idiot. It felt like catching snowflakes in the winter. It felt like König would disappear at any moment, the dream would shatter and he’d fade away and so you had to cling to him like an anchor to keep him in place.

You’d never felt so needy before. Especially not for someone that you held so much tension with, so much mixed emotion. Even under it all, under the whole whimsy of making plans and talking about booking quiet hotels out in the sticks, letting your heads float in the clouds, you could feel the heavy weight of the words you’d yet to let goof. What remained from that night when things had gone wrong.

No matter how much you’d thought about it, you struggled to come to a clear conclusion in your head. A way to navigate past it all - the shifting sands of your feelings. On the one hand some of it still disturbed you and gnawed at the edges of your mind and on the other, you couldn't bring yourself to think that you were much better, that you had the right to criticise him.

You hated to think of him holding onto it all and internalising the words you’d spat out in a moment of panic. You’d made him out to be a monster while your hands were just as bloody as his, you’d acted as if yours dripped righteously because you’d killed your quarries quickly. It was hardly fair - though none of the situation really was.

That’s how you found yourself struggling to speak when König had finally taken the helm and steered you out of calm waters. He wasn’t going to let things go on without some assurance, he needed something from you. Needed to know it wasn’t going to fall apart.

“Almost sounds like a fantasy doesn’t it?” König said, gazing up from his drink and back to you.

“What? Getting some time away together?”

“Mhmm,” he mused.

“We could do it you know,” you smiled. “I…actually really want this.”

He regarded you for a moment with a tilt of his head, his sculpted face set in a stony marble contemplation. He looked like he knew exactly what he wanted to say, but he couldn’t open his mouth past a small pout. He was trapped in silence until he finally took a breath and smiled weakly.

“If we really were to do it…if we really did plan a trip together, spend the weekend away, then I need you to be honest with me. You have to tell me how you really feel about what happened.”

Now it was your turn to pause. You knew where this was going - it was inevitable. You just wished that it wasn’t and you could remain suspended in your little bubble for the rest of time, cuddled up and without a care. Even when you knew that would have been selfish, because it was easier for you to forget what happened, easier for the person that caused the hurt to move past it.

Realistically you were never going to do that to him. Responsibility weighed heavy and it wouldn’t just disappear, you had to take a hold of it and tell König how you really felt. The only way over was through. You just had to hope that he’d have the same view on it all, that he would want to work with you on it.

“You have to understand,” he said quietly, speaking again before you could settle on the right words, “you are the first person that I’ve had feelings for in a very long time. When you told me the other night that you thought I was acting with you, that i was this- this monster of a person, and pretending I cared, it really hurt me. Even despite the kiss we shared that night, and the things we’ve talked about even now…I need to know that you won’t run from me again. I can’t stand the thought of us taking things further and you turning your back on me because there’s a repeat of what happened - it would break me this time.”

It would break me this time.

It was like an icy wave rising out of the depths and drowning you. The cold hard realisation that you’d had more of an effect than you’d realised. König now worried - even after you telling him that you missed him more than anything - that you’d leave him just like that. Even when that was impossible. You’d agreed to meet him even after all that had happened for gods sakes, you were risking your career for him, you were ready to face Price’s wrath just for the chance to see him again and make up for everything. You weren’t giving him up.

“I don’t think you’re a monster König, I never did - even when I said all those things to you… but it’s like I said earlier, my mind isn’t completely clear on it all. There’s still things about that night that make me uncomfortable, I still don’t like picturing you doing things like that and- and well…the laughing - that still gets me,” you said with a sigh, trying your hardest not to break eye contact. “But no matter what though, no matter what has happened and what will happen - I know that I want to work through it with you. I don’t want to run, I want to be right here. I want you to trust me. I know that I fucked up telling you that I thought that badly of you and I know it’ll take some time for you to feel like you’re secure, but we can both reassure each other, yeah? We can navigate through it together because- well because it’s like you said. You have feelings for me and I- uh- I…care about you too, so so much. So much. I won’t let anything get in the way of that.”

His face was a melting pot of emotion. The curve of his lips wobbled between a grimace and a small smile and his jaw kept clenching and unclenching as he processed what you said. He turned the words over in his mind for a minute, his face giving nothing away as he zoned out into the middle distance, transfixed on the rainbow array of bottles behind the bar.

“So how do we move past it?” he breathed.

“I suppose we just try to talk about it more…I’m not sure it's something I’ll immediately forget about, but then I guess you won’t just forget about what I did either,” you mumbled. “We can learn from each other though, and understand each other’s perspectives. Like I said before, we can work through it all. If you want to.”

He nodded and studied the bar again, thinking deeply for a second. König’s face still didn’t betray anything, he was so good at wearing masks he barely needed the cloth to cover what he thought. His hard jaw was set and his pale blue eyes were haunting a deep space far from where you both sat.

It was only when he finally grabbed your hand again, when he wove his work beaten fingers through yours that you knew it would be ok. You knew that he wanted this just as much as you, no matter what. He barely even had to say it, but he did, the words like honeysuckle petals softly tickling at your ears.

“Yes, I think that you’re right. We can do this together,” he murmured, gripping your hand tightly. “You and I will make this work any way that we can. I’ve never wanted anyone like this before and I won’t give you up for anything, not for Price, not for Ghost, not for the world. You’re mine…and I will do anything to keep it that way.”

-☠️-

Barely a week after that night, you found yourself checking into a quaint little hotel in the middle of nowhere, attempting to ignore the Price shaped shadow that stained your peripheral vision. You’d packed yourself into the car and driven off with your hold all, not stopping to look back. It almost felt like you were going back to base again, as if you’d taken on another mission and you were going through the motions, that helped for most of the journey.

It was only when the car had crunched into the gravely drive that it finally sank in that you were really going to meet König. There wasn’t going to be any interruptions or distractions, you didn’t have to silently walk past him in the hallways and feel your chest sink knowing that you couldn’t acknowledge him. It was just you and him, unfettered by rules and boundaries.

In the mouth of the hotel reception, you’d muttered out your details to the stuffy looking woman behind the desk. She’d given you the same feeling some people must have when checking into a prison sentence. She clicked over to you in her perfectly pressed grey jacket and skirt and demanded to know if you had a booking. Her eyes roved over you, her lips pinching together when she asked why you were visiting, and you said you were just taking a trip away with a friend. She didn’t seem to like that very much. Her papery worn hand had stopped scratching down your details in her book, then she’d proceeded to continue again after a brief but unmistakable sigh.

She was onto you. She didn’t even know you, but even she knew you were up to no good. Her beady eyes certainly betrayed her as they narrowed behind her thin gold framed glasses.

The Captain Price in your mind took on a more solid shape, made your hand shake and jingle the keys that you’d been given. What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Sergeant? You had no idea what you were doing, reason had been abandoned for a far more attractive proposition. It was only there at the desk that you realised the full weight of your decision, trying to stay calm in front of the glaring figure before you.

You’d only gotten to leave after being strictly warned that you weren’t to disturb the other guests ‘should you and your friend spend much time in each other's rooms’. You’d nodded with a thick gulp and attempted to smile as you slunk away from her, dreaming up that she was on the phone to Price just as you were out of sight.

You were being ridiculous.

You sighed and trailed your eyes along the yellowing floral wallpaper as you passed it, laughing softly as you realised how paranoid you were being. It was no use worrying about Price now, you’d already committed to the trip, so why torture yourself with seeing him in every nook and corner? With that in mind you walked a little more confidently across the soft pink carpet, eventually making your ascent up the groaning old stairs, keeping yourself focused on not tripping up on the runner rods. One step at a time, soldier, you’ll need those legs to lean on when you’re scrubbing toilets.

The room you’d ended up in was exactly as you’d pictured it after seeing the rest of the hotel. It was as if you’d stepped into the past, something straight from the 1920’s with its old decor and unplaceable draft that permeated throughout the room like it was an extra feature.

The bed looked older than you. The kind that would squeal and shout traitorously at every little movement you’d make and was topped with lacy white sheets complete with multi coloured floral quilt - it clashed with the wallpaper of course. Though it worked with the equally ugly rug in the centre of the room, mangled and worn with age, reaching out its frayed tendrils; almost touching the little desk off to the side and the wardrobe next to it. The bathroom wasn't much better either, all avocado coloured porcelain and tiny enough to accommodate a hobbit and not much more.

It made you wonder how König was going to cope, his almost seven foot frame was going to be like something from Alice in Wonderland. You smirked at the thought and tossed your hold all on the bed, freeing your hand up so that you could fish out your phone and text the number you kept under - mother. Your Latest act of subterfuge. A way to receive messages from König without being found out. You really did feel like a kid again.

You

You’re gonna love this place, big guy ;)

Mother

Any more back chat about my choice and you can go another week without me

You

I’m JUST saying…it’s tiny to *me* so take that as you will

Mother

Size isn’t everything dear ;)

You

You’re so fuckin lame dude

Mother

Is that any way to talk to your mother?

You found yourself cackling at his response and clamped your hand over your mouth, not wanting to draw too much attention to yourself already. The old harpy downstairs probably already thought you were both having a secret affair or something, the last thing you needed was to draw more of her ire. It wasn’t like you could go and explain to her that neither of you was spurning a partner back home, and that you were actually hiding from your Captain turned father. So really it was totally fine for you both to be sneaking around in the countryside together!

She didn’t seem like the type that would like that explanation either anyway.

No. Reality was, you were part of one of the most elite task forces in the world, and there you were hovering above a frilly old bed about to wait for your crush coming home like a propaganda poster. When will my would-be forbidden boyfriend return from Austria? You snorted at the thought and dove into your bag, rustling around in search of your tablet. Things were bad enough without you waiting at the window with your metaphorical tail stuck in alert position - excited for König and fearful of Price and the paranoid possibility of him having a tracker on you both.

Fuck that. You watched TV and tuned out the tinfoil hat thoughts as best as you could manage.

You didn’t have to wait long in the end anyway, not if you were honest with yourself. König had announced his arrival with a thud and an ‘ow, oida!’ and immediately you knew your man had arrived. It seemed unlikely anyone else would be in the corridor, you assumed, banging their head and shouting in German.

Wouldn’t you know it, once you’d poked your head out of the parapet of your room door, you’d laid your eyes straight on him. You emerged from your hiding place and watched as König rubbed his head and looked at the doorway like he’d square up to it. A tiny laugh escaped before you could cover it up when you realised you’d been right all along; the place was far too small for him.

Though he’d never admit to it - that you were sure of. He’d be folding himself in half before he’d admit to being wrong. You’d figured that out when you’d originally questioned his choice in hotel and destination. It screamed home for the geriatric: spend your last years here together, but he wouldn’t hear of it. König had been absolutely adamant he wanted a little old fashioned place out in the countryside, said it was good to stay out of the way of everyone and grant yourselves some privacy, height restrictions be damned.

“Having trouble there, handsome?” You smirked, looking him up and down appreciatively.

He whirled around and faced you, eyes going wide as he realised you’d been watching him. Almost instantly you were admiring him, trailing your eyes over his outfit and his perfectly exposed face.

König was wearing his neck warmer much like usual, though it had been drawn down around his neck - likely to accommodate the nosy old gal downstairs. It fit well enough with the rest of his outfit, tan brown work jacket, white shirt and beat up jeans and boots, but it looked a little odd in the warmer weather. You could only imagine how suspicious she’d been of him, masked up and german, likely two marks against his name. She’d be calling the authorities on you in no time, the neighbourhood watch would be descending down on you from their helicopters if you misstepped even slightly.

“I’m doing just fine, thank you,” König sniffed, leaning his arm up against the top of the doorframe.

“Really? Sure you don’t need a lil pillow or something to strap to your head? Would be a shame if you came back from your time off with brain damage,” you giggled.

“Maybe I’ll avoid it by leaving early then shall I?” he teased, narrowing his eyes.

“Oh c’mon, you know you can’t resist all this” you smirked, tilting your chin. “Besides, it must’ve taken ages to get that big head of yours through the front door, you can’t possibly want to leave already!”

Ignoring the string of muttered German that followed your comment, you closed the gap between you both. Before you could chicken out, you put your arms around him, embracing his big warm body like an oversized plush. König’s muscles tensed at first, reacting like you’d tased him, but he quickly relaxed, letting his own encompass your body before he kissed the top of your head and turned your mind rosy. You could swear you saw blushes of pink cross your vision, eyes clouding while your head went fuzzy.

“Missed you,” you whispered, nuzzling into his chest. “Again.”

“Mhmm, I’d say I did too, but you’ve been so condescending with me,” he murmured, descending into laughter when he caught you glaring up at him.

“Don’t be mean!”

“Alright, alright. I missed you too! Of course I did,” he relented. “Though I think you should be nicer to me, you did make me sacrifice going back to Austria after all.”

He sighed dramatically and suddenly it was your turn to roll your eyes. He’d been trying everything to get you to go to him, but for you it was no dice. The absolute last thing you needed was for Price to see the big Austrian stamp in your passport and turn the national colours in fury. The thought alone was enough to have you going wide eyed and stiff.

“Well I suppose I can be nicer,” you grinned, reluctantly pulling away from him. “We have got two days together, so I’ll have to convince you to stick around somehow.”

“Two whole days, my my,” he said with raised brows. “What are we gonna do with all that time?”

“For starters - hang out without a paparazzi of base personnel waiting to report on the gossip.”

“Not that that will stop them talking. I caught MacTavish over my shoulder trying to get a look at my phone the other day,” he said, shaking his head.

“Really? Did he say anything to you?” You asked, concerned that you’d have to tell him to knock it off somehow without being figured out.

“I stared back at him and he almost died of fright when he finally looked back at me,” he chuckled, his evil laugh making an appearance. “Didn’t stick around long after that.”

“For fucks sake, Soap,” you snorted. “That man’s about as subtle as a canon. Stupid prick.”

“Well what else can you expect from the 141?” König teased, preemptively retreating backwards toward his open doorway.

“Oh, you think you’re a big man firing insults then running away do you?” You asked, folding your arms across yourself.

“Sneaky, please - Im a very big man,” he tittered, cocking a finger gun at you as he disappeared with his oversized rucksack. “I’ll come over to your room in a minute!”

Your earlier assessment was true enough - he was fucking lame. But nevertheless he was the man that you were risking it all for.

“Good luck getting in!” You called, retreating back to yours.

Not that it’d actually be a challenge. You’d gone as far as to ignore a direct order from Price, ignored your own wavering doubts about the darkness that he was capable of and you’d driven five hours just to see him. When it came to König you were a goner. And it was only getting clearer with time.

-☠️-

König had indeed managed to worm his way back into your presence, no matter how much you tried to joke that you were barricading yourself in your room. However, with the promise of a scenic walking route and pub food courtesy of him, you found it in your heart to forgive his earlier comment, giving him a stern look on your way out. He was only forgiven by a slim margin you’d told him.

However as you’d set out and begun to stretch your legs and ease out the travelling aches, you found yourself more and more surprised by how much you were enjoying yourself. The air had cleared and something in the knots of your stomach had come undone. You were Shocked that you were able to forget all about Price, all about the hazards of being together. As if work were just something from a persona that you’d shed. All responsibility and worries scattered in the breeze that shook the tall grass.

It was easy to share his company too. It didn’t feel awkward or like you had to say anything at any particular time. It was natural, just like it was before, when you could talk to him without the threat of Price giving you the sack. Though it struck you like a slap to the face when you realised that it was one of the few rare moments you’d had to talk to each other without being a spectacle, without people watching and commenting. No Soap to tease you about it, no Ghost to pass his judgmental gaze over you both.

That was what made it truly special, it was something just for you both. The place itself turned out to be pretty special too, it was lovely. You had to give König that - even if his hotel was haunted by its judgmental keeper.

The trail was fairly flat, and took you through fields and backroads with only a few sloping hills here and there with plenty of streams that babbled in the backgrounds of your conversations. Eventually you’d come to a little bridge and stopped to take in the view, looking out over the cold spray of the miniature waterfall tumbling down into the river below and past the mossy banks. It rollled down the yellow-green expanse, snaking off somewhere way out to the horizon line.

It was both a noisy, but pretty backdrop that allowed you to get plenty of sly glances in while König was distracted. Your eyes had been tracing his profile like you were trying to paint him. He’d caught you no doubt, the smile that played on his lips told you that much, but he hadn’t made any attempt to stop you looking. He kept staring at the water and had let the quiet lull in your earlier chat remain still.

“I’ve always wondered…do you stare at lots of people like this? Or am I special?”

You blinked back at him and felt blood pool in your cheeks, racing with the rushing water.

“Who says I’m staring at you,” you murmured, leaning against the worn wooden railing. “There’s actually a very nice tree that I’ve been admiring.”

“Oh a nice tree, hmm? I must say, I’ve been compared to a tree many times, but not an awful lot of people call me nice,” he mused, teasingly nudging your shoulder.

“Just me and your mother?” you smirked, firing a shot back at him.

He widened his eyes and tilted his head like a puppy, putting his hand on his chest as if he were pulling the spear you’d buried there out of himself.

“I can’t believe you’re bringing my mother into this!”

“Well, I assume she thinks you’re nice…Sure sounds like it anyway,” you said with a coy smile.

“And by that you mean…?” he asked, eyes narrowing on you.

Your throat could’ve gone dry from the heat in König’s eyes and suddenly his intense gaze felt all too similar to the shake of a rattlesnake's tail. Had you been trying to insult him, you’d have let it die on your lips, but it wasn’t what you were thinking of doing at all. What little you knew of his past, you knew that wasn’t the sort of thing that would go down very well.

“I mean that - judging by the way you sound on the phone to her - she likes to dote on her little precious baby König,” you said with a smirk, “I can always tell when you’re on the phone to her.”

The lit fuse was snuffed out in an instant, and the look in his eyes faded from a warning and into a question. He paused a moment before he spoke again.

“I don’t know whether to be more perturbed that you’ve been listening in on my calls, or if I’m much more interested in finding out how you can tell.”

“I haven’t been listening to your calls! You always answer your phone in front of everyone because we’re all ‘savage’ non German speakers,” you laughed, finally returning the nudge he’d given you earlier. “You make it sound like Price has me spying on you!”

“Maybe he does,” he chuckled dryly, turning to you now. “Maybe you’re perfectly fluent in German and you’re an excellent double agent.”

“Damn it, you’ve caught me! I better tell the guys to come out of the bushes now. Quick Price, get down from that tree before you fall out of it,” you laughed in return, calling out to the fake 141 like they’d really come free from their hiding spots.

König shook his head at you saying something about you being silly under his breath, and turned back to the water again. His body shook the fence with his weight coming to rest on it, one arm propped up so that he could reach up and hold his face in one hand, clearly not used to having it bare as he subconsciously stroked the spot where his neckwarmer would come to. He looked distant for a second, only a fleeting moment, until he swivelled his head back to you and looked at you curiously, raising his brow.

“What is it that makes you say my mother dotes?” he finally asked, giving you a small smile. “If you really are the uncivilised non-german speaker that you claim to be.”

“First of all - you’re so rude. Secondly, its how you talk when you’re on the phone to her, even if it is in German,” you said pointedly. “Your voice always goes all soft and quiet and reassuring like you’re always trying to soothe her…Oh! And you do that thing where you answer all gentle like - ‘hallo, mama’.”

König bit his lip and held back the smile that tried to burst loose.

“Is that really how I sound to you? Like I’m greeting a dying animal? I can’t imagine that’s very attractive.”

“It’s not like that! Your voice goes all sweet and cute,” you replied defensively, sidling up against him.

“Sweet and cute? Niemals! I am not sweet, nor cute,” he huffed, staring you down and rising to his full height.

“You’re very sweet and cute, actually,” you huff, giving his cheek a rub before you can think twice.

Suddenly you’re trapped between the railing and König, the wood creaking out in protest. His heavy chest trapped you fast against him and his arms locked on either side of you, straining as his hands grasped the wood tightly. His hair had fallen over his face and shadowed his eyes, giving them a menacing glint as he continued to look down at you.

“Am I still sweet and cute?” he whispered lowly.

You felt your face burn and your breath shudder. Tremors wracked their way through your legs and you fought to stay on level ground as he forced you down. He wasn’t being either of the aforementioned things you’d said, but he wasn’t being very scary either…

“I’m not scared of you König,” you murmured, breaking the tension and tucking back a rogue strand of his hair. “I still think you’re very sweet.”

He rolled his eyes, sighing down at you like a weary god.

“I’m not.”

“Yes you are,” You grinned. “You’re sweet to me all the time! Always making sure I have my tea and get to watch my movies even when you’re fidgeting like hell. You booked this hotel just so that we could spend time together without being in trouble at work. You watch out for me, you make me feel safe. You’re so sweet.”

He sighed again.

“Ugh, very well then…I suppose if you really enjoy the whole cute thing I should lean into it more, hm?” he said, a smile slowly creeping across his face. “What do you think, my precious angel? You want me to be sickly sweet with you now? Hm? My Schnuckiputzi? Schnuckiputzihasimausieerdbeertörtchen, my-”

König’s voice purred sweet and high pitched, sounding several levels of unfamiliar as he kept you smushed against the fence with his hand locked to your jaw. His lip jutted out thickly and his eyes went dopey, talking to you like you were a little kitten that he was trying to charm into his lap. It was too much for you, you were overcome with laughter and crying out as he kept up his assault, only pausing when you tried to cover his mouth with your flailing hand.

“Oh my god, you have to stop,” you wheezed, pushing against him. “No more!

“But I’ve barely even started, Schmusebär! I could go on forever,” he laughed, voice muffled by your grasp on him.

“No, please, it’s too much!” you protested.

“Oh, so you’ve had enough? You don’t like the cute thing anymore?”

“I like when you’re cute like you, not cute like that! That’s gross,” you giggled, giving him a playful shove.

“Ok, ok! I’ll dial it back. Anything for my sweet little flower.”

You’d given him a warning look, but he didn’t look in the least bit intimidated - one of the hazards of going out with a guy built like König, he wasn’t going to be scared off by you. Although, you supposed that might’ve been a good thing too.

At the very least he’d stopped after that and you’d enjoyed the rest of the walk in peace. Both of you had become transfixed by the sprawling deer-filled fields and the birds that flew in perfect formations shrieking above your heads. They clouded the skies and brought with them a cold wind that had begun to bite through your clothes and had you leaning into König. Your body brushed against his one time too many and eventually he just rolled his eyes and took your hand in his, firmly dragging you closer so that you could absorb his warmth. It had your heart stuttering for a few beats, still in disbelief that you were really there with him.

-☠️-

After the walk you’d both found a place for dinner, a pub that seemed to have the same interior decorator as your hotel by the looks of it. It had the potential to be trendy with its exposed brick and old iron fireplace, though it was covered in doilies and old horrible paintings and florals - much the same as the hotel.

Despite the gross decor, the food was delicious and the drink even more so after your long winding walk. König had ordered himself a feast, getting a steak pie, chips and mac and cheese, claiming that anything else would have him starving later on. Meanwhile you’d sat with an amazed look as you took slow bites of your burger; watching him devour all his.

“You think that I just got to this size by magic?” he’d asked, taking a big gulp of his beer. “It takes a lot to maintain this.”

“I’m not judging, I’m just amazed that you’re actually eating all that,” you’d noted, reaching across the table to steal a bit of mac and cheese.

“Hey! You didn’t ask if you could have any.”

“Well that’s what you get for going to dinner with someone called Sneak,” you’d chastised.

He’d made a joke about sneaking out and letting you pay for it all, but even after that you’d both melted into the warmth of the fireplace and ordered a few more beers; feeling pleasantly tipsy by the time you had decided to pay.

The wallpaper was growing fuzzy as you’d stared ahead at it and the patterns that had been so clearly defined before were getting lost in the dim light. Your eyes flicked between the swirling shapes and staring over at König, getting lost in the features of his shadowed face, listening out to the consistent rattle of the table as König’s leg gently bounced. Your mind felt hazy, your thoughts danced like the flames reflecting throughout the room, intermingling with the tingles at the back of your skull.

I want to touch him.

I want to trace those scars, I want to feel the curve of his nose and hold his chin in my palm.

I want to hold him, I want to sit in his lap.

I want all of him.

“Is someone a little bit of a lightweight?” he’d teased, noticing the way your eyes drooped.

Your mouth dropped open for a second, feeling heavy as an anvil until you were able to shake yourself out of it. Everything was still fuzzy, your body felt light as a feather and cumbersome all at once. How is he able to talk in full sentences? It hadn’t occurred to you that him being almost twice your size might affect his tolerance, making it far superior to yours.

“Not a lightweight,” you grouched, “Just- just sleepy.”

“Mhmm, I noticed that too, Bierleiche” he laughed, the sound booming rich as pure vanilla in your ears.

“No more names!” you pouted.

“Alright, I won’t call you any more names, but I won’t buy you any more beer either. Let’s get you back.”

You’d protested at this, not really all that passionate about getting to sit up in the stiflingly warm little stoop, but not wanting to part from him quite yet. You knew for a fact that he’d be a gentleman and try to leave you and frankly, you weren’t in the mood for it. You weren’t in the mood for that at all.

However, even despite your moaning and grousing, König got you to your feet and held you up against him until he got you to the hotel. Your feet had marched noisily down the street and you’d loudly commented on the pretty stars in the sky on the way over, but as soon as you’d reached that front door it was like an instinct had flared up inside your body and you were quiet as a mouse. Even drunk, you knew not to bother the old crone that surely waited in the shadows, looking for any excuse to jump out at you.

It wasn’t until you were safely in your room, where König was depositing your flailing body into bed that you finally reneged on your vow of silence. He’d turned to leave, his hand coming down on the door handle and reminding you of a judge's gavel ready to end your time with him. You whined, scrabbling at the sheets so that you could sit up and called out to him.

“König! You can’t go.”

“I think you’ll find that I can,” he’d snorted, tossing you a measured look.

“But, I don’t want you to,” you moaned, patting the bed next to you.

“I thought you were sleepy.”

“I was! Then we w-walked through the cold and it woke me up a bit,” you shrugged, hiccuping through the middle of your sentence.

He sighed and tilted his head, seeming to arrive at a fork in the road. Knowing this was the case, even with your addled mind, you pulled the covers back and patted the spot next to you, doing your best to try an angelic smile. Although, it couldn’t have been half as sweet as you’d wanted it to be with your glazed over eyes and dopey grin.

“I’m not going to do anything with you like this.”

You gasped, clutching at your neck as if there were pearls there to grasp onto.

“I’m shocked that you would incuse me of something like that!”

“Incuse?” he chuckled, letting go of the door handle.

Victory was yours.

“I just want you to come cuddle with me for a minute,” you clarified.

He narrowed his eyes, folding his arms over his broad chest like he could scare the truth out of you. Though you were full of liquid confidence and it didn’t matter what he did, you just wanted to feel him close and have his warm body next to yours. You needed to have him for all the time that you could, grabbing onto every little moment.

“If I come over there I don’t want any funny business,” he warned.

A light could’ve buzzed above your head, the pretend halo that you tried to manifest lighting up the room before him.

“Cross my heart, no funny business,” you simpered.

He laughed at that and finally came over to you, shucking off his boots after you’d grumbled about shoes on the bed. He let you fold over onto him, curling up like a croissant in his arms and settling easily into your nook between his arm and chest.

Even in your clouded mind, the moment was etching itself into your core memory. The smell of hops and cold fresh air, the feel of his big arms wrapped around your body, the softness of his chest and the cotton T-shirt he wore, the feel of his zip scraping your fingers as you carelessly moved your hand to his sternum. It all compounded, had you feeling like you were in a dream, the fuzziness of your head trying to tell you that’s all it was.

“This is real isn’t it?” you asked, furrowing your brows as you put a little pressure on his chest, testing to make sure it really was him.

“Did you take shots while I was in the toilet or something?” he laughed, bouncing your head with the force of it through his body.

“No! It’s that - I just - I can’t believe we’re really here. It’s like you said before - It’s like a dream. And we made it come true.”

He was quiet for a second and tentatively placed his hand on the back of your head, running it over your hair and down your back. The motion completely distracted you from his silence, calming you completely and making you feel as cosy as a lap dog. Suddenly the tiredness was simmering back through your body, melting you like butter.

“I’m happy too,” he finally said, his voice wavering a little. “Happier than I’ve been in a long time.”

“Really?”

“Why do you sound so surprised?” he asked, laughing fondly.

You shrugged with what little movement you could muster, pasted to König’s side, and bit your lip. It’s not like you wanted to lie there in a moment of pity and self deprecate, but you hadn’t had the easiest time of it together at that point. You were surprised that he was able to say that it was one of the happiest times of his life.

“Things have been hard. I guess I’m still just shocked that you’ve made such an effort to be with me. It probably would’ve been easier to pick up some someone back home and live a nice little un- umconplimicated life with them,” you said, struggling to even wrap your mouth around the word.

Your head rattled as König’s chest bounced again, his chuckle echoing out across the room. It had you burying your burning face deeper into him, trying all you could to be able to hide your complete embarrassment. You’d prayed that it wouldn’t make him leave, make him think you were too away with it to continue on with the conversation.

However, by that point König was quite tired too. His inhibitions were lowered and he wasn’t in the mindset to leave you alone. Instead he just rubbed your back reassuringly and sighed out the last remnants of his stolen breaths, before his body regulated and his chest rose steadily and surely again.

“If I’d ever been capable of something like that I’m sure I would’ve tried it a while ago,” he finally said.

You frowned and, now that you were composed, swivelled your head so that you could see his face. Your eyes veered away from their place on his chest and landed straight on him, straining to see the distant look in his eyes. You bit you lip.

“How not capable?” you murmured, still battling with recalling how to speak.

“You remember when you first tried to talk to me surely?” he smirked, absentmindedly stroking your hair.

“I remember…you were all grumpy, didn’t wanna talk,” you smiled, blinking slowly up at him.

“I was just so surprised that you were talking to me, I didn’t have anything to say back. It took me off guard that I didn’t have to put on any kind of a front for you to approach. That’s usually how it goes for other people - no one comes to me unless I start pretending, unless I stop being myself, unless I make myself smaller and superficial. It’s exhausting, and I can’t maintain it for very long.”

“But then you offered to make me tea,” you reminded him, face feeling bright with the memory. “You were nice - next time I saw you.”

“I promised myself that if I saw you in the kitchen again that I would make up for appearing so rude. Then you got flustered and stared at me alot, and acted ridiculously cute and forced me to watch Rocky; so now, because you charmed me, here we are. I’m doomed to do your bidding, doomed to follow you t-”

“Hey!”

You batted his chest and did your best to sit up, clambering up his body, huffing and puffing until you were face level with the summit of him.

“I did not force you!”

“You gave me an order,” he shot back with an eyebrow raise.

“Yeah, well you better be grateful you got that order because otherwise you wouldn't have gotten to see a cinnamonatic masterpiece!”

“Cinnamonatic? Is that how it’s said?”

“Shut up,” you groaned, collapsing back down on him, nuzzling into his collarbone.

He laughed breathily and let you settle back into him, holding you against him like a little bird that might fly away. His arms were wrapped tight around you now, and you cocooned into them, growing more and more comfortable and heavy.

“König?” You asked quietly, breath fanning onto his neck.

You felt him shiver gently, shifting in the bed.

“Yeah?” he sighed.

“I think that most people would really like you if you were actually yourself around them. You don’t have to act around people, y’know?”

He lay there quietly, letting your words hang in the air like deadweight above your head, at first you thought that he might’ve fallen asleep, not really registering you. Though when you turned your head to look up at him, he turned his down, looking over to you soundlessly. Even in the dark, you knew his eyes were filled with a blur of memories and feelings he hadn’t even begun to tell you about yet - the things that had made him who he was.

“One day I’ll get you to tell me why you do it,” you vowed to yourself, whispering faintly into the dark.

“Tell you what?”

König’s hearing was, as ever, sharp as a cat’s. He sounded gruff as he answered, like you were veering into territory he wasn’t going to let you explore yet. Though you were just drunk enough that you weren’t too afraid to push a little further, testing the boundaries.

“All the things that made you afraid to be yourself.”

“Oh gott,” he sighed.

“What?”

“I left Austria and somehow still ended up in bed with Sigmund Freud,” he chuckled.

“Don’t deflect!” you moaned, yawning sleepily.

“Apologies doctor,” he said, putting on a fake serious voice. “Perhaps I can start off by telling you about how difficult it was being moved from Austria to Germany when I was little, and tell you I was ruthlessly teased for my silly accent until I started changing it. Then we can move on to the difficult relationship I had with my stepfather and perhaps finish off with you telling me it all sounds rather like I want to sleep with one of my relatives.”

“You got teased for your accent?” you gasped, emotional and tipsy enough to almost shed a tear at the thought of little König being bullied.

König had a habit of divulging little snippets about his past that he’d laugh about, but lamentably very little of them were ever very funny or good stories. That didn’t stop him though, tittering away as he’d told you about someone chasing him with a knife, or when he’d broken his arm after getting ganged up on in a school yard fight or even when he’d been threatened with being kicked out of the house if he didn’t go get a job - the reason he’d joined the German Army.

“Oh don’t get all upset about it,” he groaned. “It was a very long time ago.”

“But why were people were being so mean to little König,” you protested, so choked with emotion you were speaking about him like a little cartoon protagonist. “I don’t like the thought of people being so mean to you, all your stories from when you were young are so sad!”

“Oh you’re such a bleeding heart, how ever did you make it into the military?” he sighed, petting your head like you were little more than a mewling kitten. “Would it make you feel better if you knew that little König grew up to be bigger and taller than all of those assholes and showed them why they shouldn’t have messed with him? Would that help?”

You sniffed and thought about it for a second, imaging his sharp defined bone structure all soft and round with unshed baby fat and those hard narrowed eyes of his all sleepy and dark. He would’ve made quite the sight when he was younger you thought, the kind of face that needed to age into who he really was. A face that’d picked up scars and blemishes like little medals that appeared in certain lights.

“It helps a little,” you huffed, running your hand up and down his chest, sliding your fingers over a rumple in his shirt.

“What would help more? Would it help if I was cute again, would that make things better?”

“No, don’t you dare!”

“Are you sure, Schmusebär? I think it might make you feel better if I remind you that you’re my sweet perfect little baby-”

“I’m better! I feel better!” You groaned, desperately trying to cover your ears with your hands. “Not again!”

He was giggling mischievously to himself, clearly very impressed with his newfound torture technique, clutching at his chest as you wormed away and hissed at him to stop. He bit his lip and folded his arms behind his head, looking thoroughly pleased even while he stopped laughing. Apparently he was quite the gloat when he was self satisfied, and yet this - as you were to find out - wasn't even the tip of the iceberg.

“What does Schmusebär even mean?” you sighed, screwing your face up as you waited to find out.

“Schmusebär? Hm…it means cuddle bear,” he yawned, sounding like an old hound.

“Aw…that actually is kind of sweet.”

“Oh? I’ll have to make sure I avoid using that then.”

“König!” you whined.

-☠️-

Going back to base after those two days together was hell. You’d hoped that König might end up being sent off somewhere else for a time. You’d practically prayed that KorTac would be needed elsewhere for once and that there was something more important than Ex Nihilo. However as with everything else your luck never struck. You were forced to remain in the same confines as him - trying not to let your face completely betray everything that you’d gotten up to in your time together.

However, König didn’t seem to have that agenda. Oh no. He wasn’t worried about revealing too much at all.

About a day after you’d gotten back, you’d been training in the gym with Ghost, getting ready to be sent off on your next mission. You’d hardly even seen König at that point and after your first few hours of trying to avoid shitting yourself - thinking that someone somehow would’ve spotted you both together - you’d relaxed into the fact that everything was fine. Nobody knew about your secret rendezvous and no one ever would. Your heart could definitely resume its regular pace instead of the dizzying frenetic dance it’d decided to beat to.

You’d been running on the treadmill, maintaining a steady speed and focusing on the slap of your feet coming down heavily on the rubber - keeping time with your music. You breathed steadily, in and out, and kept your gaze mostly forward - occasionally watching to see what Ghost was doing as he piled on more and more weight to a barbell. It was therapeutic, the perfect way to forget about your little indiscretion and feel good about seeing Price next. You were practically back to normal!

All until you spotted König in the doorway.

His dark eyes peered out at you from over his neck warmer and he had his arms folded just below the logo of his old Rammstein T-shirt. It was the same one he’d worn on the second day of your trip, the same day you’d spent holed up in your hotel room trying to find a way to take said shirt off. That wasn’t even the worst of it. When you’d glanced below the shirt, you’d come close to tripping like a cartoon when you noticed his grey sweats, ever so close to cardiac arrest. Even before he’d done anything, before he’d even properly come into the room, he was fucking you up.

“Need something?” Ghost growled, noisily dropping the weight he’d been lifting to the ground.

“I was going to workout,” König replied, voice sounding sour as it always did with your team.

“Stop standing there staring like a spare prick and come in then.”

Neither man said anything after that. König narrowed his eyes at Ghost, his arms appearing as if they wanted to fly forward and choke the Lieutenant out. However, in a stunning display of restraint, he kept them at his side and walked over to the weights, depositing himself at the opposite side of his enemy. He was keeping Ghost in his eyeline, and regrettably you as well.

Your heart had noticeably started beating faster, though it had been a while since you’d upped the setting on the treadmill. Your feet pistoned hard on the whirring machine and you were starting to feel every step, your chest aching as your breathing pattern was thrown off. You panted hard and slowed the setting way down into a bare minimum walk, grasping for your water bottle like someone crawling through the desert.

With König’s antics you’d forgotten all about the evil red numbers that flashed on the screen in front of you, screaming out that you were falling behind your goal. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was ensuring your feet didn’t trip over each other now that you weren’t looking where you should be while you ran. Your eyes had just about popped out when you caught sight of him laying on the benchpress, you couldn’t seem to turn away, too transfixed by his powerful lifts and heavy breaths.

After a few sets his arms were already beginning to bulge and before you could stop yourself, your mind wandered off to remembering your weekend together. The feel of his ropey arms as they supported your weight and held in you in place, thick and veiny from the effort of all the…activities you’d been getting up to. You shook your head and gulped when you almost felt your right foot falter, just about toppling your entire body like a badly built jenga tower.

“Sneak!”

You whipped your head around at the shout and looked back at Ghost like a deer in front of a combine harvester. He’d caught you looking. You took a beat before you took your airpods from your ears, shakily setting them down onto the tray so that you could hear your Lieutenant clearly.

“Yeah?” you asked weakly.

“Come spot me.”

Ghost had never asked for you to spot for him before. Frankly, the last thing that Ghost needed was for you to spot him. You were confident he could lift five of you in a pinch, however, you knew he wasn’t really asking because it's what he needed. He knew that you needed to keep your eyes off König - especially while Price was likely to be hanging around.

You walked over and loomed over Ghost, nervously making sure to keep your eyes on him as much as possible. It wasn’t like you could help them wandering a couple times, admiring the way König’s shoulder blades bunched and how his arms swelled out of his T-shirt like they were tearing free. His breath and Ghost’s intermingled, both battling for your attentions, Ghost only winning because you were sure he’d rat to Price if you were being too obvious.

Though, when Ghost finally sat up, that’s when König decided to fight dirtier.

“Pub later?” Ghost asked, his voice disappearing somewhere in the fuzz of your mind.

Your lungs closed off, forgetting how to expel air, holding tight onto the breath you were supposed to let go. A swell of static took over your head and your teeth ached from clenching hard watching König stand up and take his shirt off. His uncovered body betraying the signs of all that you’d done on your second day at the hotel. The distressed and unmistakable scratches that you’d littered on his back, already turning pink as they’d begun to messily heal.

“Sneak?”

You weren’t listening to Ghost anymore, you were too busy fuming about König being so obvious. How could reveal his back like that in front of Ghost, what the fuck was he trying to prove? Your fists balled up with anger and you narrowed your eyes at him, trying to hold onto what you felt so that you wouldn’t fall to the embarrassment of knowing that your superior could see your handiwork on König’s back.

“Fuck sake! C’mon.”

Ghost took you away, coming up behind you and shoving your back, manhandling you into the corridor. This was too familiar, you’d thought to yourself. It was just like the mission, you were going to get in trouble again, and this time it was all over - no more warnings. Everything that you’d thought was supposed to be ahead of you flashed before your eyes and you tried not to let the tears that were gathering break loose from the dam.

Your focus trained back on ghost and your nostrils flared faster than they had while you were running. You sputtered for a second, figuring out what to say. Though, you didn’t know what to say, had no idea how to explain yourself.

“Are you alright?” Ghost asked softly.

You frowned, feeling as if you were suffering from a head wound. He looked down at you with soft cow eyes and touched your shoulder gently. What the hell was happening?

“Alright? I- I’m ok,” you breathed, voice lilting as if you were asking a question.

“That was fucking classless that,” Ghost sighed.

“Classless?” you repeated, heart stopping as you wondered what he was talking about.

“Yeah. Taking his fuckin’ kit off and showing you he’s been fucking someone else is a low blow, Sneak. You don’t have to pretend you don’t care with me. I won’t tell anyone, not about something like that.”

Oh. My. Fucking. God.

You paused for a minute, mind catching up with what Ghost just said. He thought that König was trying to make some kind of point, to show you that he was over you. A garbled laugh tried to crawl free from your throat, but you choked it down and looked away, trying to think about anything other than the colossal misunderstanding that was taking place.

“Yeah, I um- I… I’ll be fine, Ghost… but um- maybe I could use a minute, y’know? I’m gonna go for a shower and sort myself out and I’ll uh- I’ll see you at the pub later, right?”

He still looked concerned, but his brows lifted a little. After another reassuring pat on the shoulder he sent you on your way and walked off, leaving you stumbling back to your room like a rambling tumbleweed. You were in complete disbelief at what just happened.

Not only did you get away with your forbidden weekend away together. Now all the guys were going to think König was fucking someone else. The perfect cover.

You screamed with laughter into your pillow once you got back, completely disbelieving that somehow things were working out for once. Luckily for you, luckily for König especially. It was that thought that sobered up and had you narrowing your eyes at the wall in front of you.

König was in big trouble.

Next Part Here

#König #König x reader #könig fanfiction #modern warfare 2 #modern warfare fanfiction #mw2

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megamindsecretlair · 25 days

Text

Mr. Black, Part 8 - Final Part

Pairing: Tre x Assistant!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. FLUFF. FILTH. PWP, cursing, PIV, fingering (fem receiving), oral (female and male receiving) dirty talk, praise kink, minor D/s elements, dumbass reader, power imbalance, Tre is a boss, all consensual. Some mentions of violence.

Summary: The day has finally come to confront the thief! You have planned, you have plotted, and Tre helped you make your case airtight. But nothing could ever got that smoothly right?

Word Count: 5,814k

A/N: If ya'll only knew how hard it was to write this! Lawdt, I love these two and was NOT prepared to say goodbye. But I wanted to start Zyair fics guilt free. Thank you, THANK YOU for reading this and all your lovely comments. I would not be here without yall! Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

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You wanted to tell Tre that you loved him but it never seemed like the right time. Once you came to grips with it, you found that you weren’t as scared as you would have been months ago. Things never worked in the proper order when it came to Tre, so why should your feelings?

You knew that you loved him, loved spending time with him, loved talking to him, and loved how sweet and possessive he was. You loved that you didn’t have to guess with him. What you saw was what you got and after years of unsatisfactory men, he was like hitting the jackpot and winning a cruise bundled into one.

However, with what you uncovered at the job, you weren’t sure if now was the time to distract him. After laying out what you discovered earlier in the week, he asked you to show him the evidence.

You laid out your entire thought process. How you thought you screwed up the numbers on an account but it never balanced. You looked into the most recent invoices but still found discrepancies. So you went back further and further until it was obvious that the thief was skilled.

The week after, Tre took the files so that he could pour over it himself. Not that he didn’t trust you; he just wanted to cross all the T’s before accusing a manager of stealing. You weren’t offended. You were just a lowly assistant.

During the day, you pretended like everything was fine at work. You didn’t give anyone any indication that a scandal was about to rock the place. You felt vindicated though. They fired all those people around Christmas time. What a heartless place.

At night, when you were over Tre’s house, he’d cook and peruse the documents while you watched your shows. In fact, it was probably the longest you had gone without having sex with him. And you were horny as hell. He’d turned you into a sex fiend and now your body had to go without. It sucked.

Exactly one week after confronting him with the news, you two spent the majority of the weekend discussing your plan. You didn’t want to cause a scene. That was embarrassing. You argued for getting the police involved. But Tre had more loyalty than you and wanted to give them a chance to fess up.

That Tuesday morning, you sat at your desk with your leg bouncing a mile a minute. Tre arrived on time and you were there to greet him with his morning coffee. You followed him into his office, taking in his outfit.

He wore a black, plaid suit jacket, with a black shirt open at the collar. You saw a hint of his gold chains around his neck. You’d never get sick of seeing him and admiring his style. It was always all black, but he dressed extremely well. You loved it when a man took pride in what he wore. You just loved him.

“What’s wrong?” Tre asked.

“Huh?” You asked.

“You look like you swallowed a lemon,” he said and smirked. In the safety of his office, he looked behind you to make sure no one was there before kissing your cheek. You smiled and waved him off.

“Just overthinking, like usual,” you said. It was on the tip of your tongue to tell him. But no distractions. That was final.

“It’s going to be okay. We’re going to be okay,” he said. He put his briefcase down on the floor and slapped a folder onto his desk. You wondered if that was the evidence you had gathered. It didn’t look big enough, but what did you know? He was the type to photocopy stuff so that it was all neat and proper. You tended to have a messier style.

“I know but–”

“No buts. We’re going to be okay. You trust me?” He asked.

“Yes, of course,” you said. You loved him. You mentally shook yourself. Now it was down to business. Now was the time to get your head in the game. You smiled and went back out to your desk.

You tried to work, but as it drew closer to midday, you couldn’t help looking at the clock on your computer. You decided to do it after lunch, most people were relaxed after a good meal. Less likely to yell, scream, and throw things. You hoped.

When two o’clock rolled around, Tre left his office, carrying his briefcase and the folder. He smiled at you and nodded his head. You bit your lip. He said that he wanted you there because you were the one who uncovered the whole thing. You were prepared to give him all the credit. He refused.

Typical man. You stood up and locked your computer, smoothing down your deep navy dress that might as well have looked black. You didn’t want to be matchy-matchy with Tre but you wanted to wear something more business-like for the occasion.

The ride up the elevator made you want to vomit. Getting out on the floor made you shake in your heels. Your hands began to sweat and you didn’t have anywhere to wipe it so you just rubbed your hands together. This shouldn’t be this hard right? You had solid evidence and Tre triple checked it for you.

But why did you get the sense that you were about to get slapped in the face?

Tre arrived at Lee’s door and knocked, ignoring her assistant altogether that she was in a meeting. Without waiting for permission. Tre opened the door and stepped inside. You were behind him, stuck behind his broad shoulders, so you saw him stiffen before he moved to the side.

In Lee’s office, Little Miss Headband Brianna sat in front of Lee’s desk. She smiled gleefully when she saw you. Very much like the cat who ate the canary. Her fingernails were long and painted black. You could guess why.

She turned her attention to Tre and you saw her eyes soften. You knew the feeling. Tre made you weak in the knees as well. However, that time was long past and you knew how Tre felt about you. You weren’t intimidated. Except that she still seemed to have it all together while you were still figuring your shit out.

“Well, I must be pretty popular today,” Lee said. She tossed back her blonde hair and looked between you and Tre. A knowing type of look. Like Brianna just got done snitching type of knowing look.

“Brianna,” Tre acknowledged. “It’s best that you go now. We have sensitive information to discuss.”

“Oh? Guess I should stay. Newly minted legal counsel and all,” Brianna said, dropping a bomb that stole your breath. This bitch was gonna work here now?

Tre chuckled. “I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” he said.

You didn’t want to seem like the clueless, dumb one, so you kept your face neutral and facing forward. Pretended that you knew what was going on. But you didn’t. You really didn’t.

Brianna shrugged her shoulders. “I needed a change of pace and Chicago was getting too cold for me.” She winked at you but all you did was smile. Hers faltered a little bit. It wasn’t so much fun gloating when the intended target wasn’t taking the bait.

“I hope California goes a lot better for you,” he said.

Why was he acting like they were discussing the fucking weather? You wanted to look at him, but you knew his expressions pretty well by now. He wouldn’t give away his thoughts so easily. The plan was to come and confront Lee. This curveball made you feel unprepared.

“That’ll be all,” Lee said, waving away her assistant. The woman sighed, threw up her hands, and closed the door behind her. Trapping you inside with Tre, his stalker ex-girlfriend, and the manager who robbed this company blind.

“Well, can’t say I’m surprised, Tre. I figured there was something going on between you. You haven’t been exactly subtle,” Lee said. She sat back in her seat and crossed her long legs.

Her office seemed to reflect her true self. It was cold and devoid of any real decoration. There was the standard knick knack or two, a diploma on the wall, but nothing that indicated she even worked here. It was always her intention to collect two checks from the company.

“That’s on me. I got sloppy the further in our relationship we went,” he said. Calm. He was too damn calm while you were ready to jump out of your skin.

Lee and Brianna laughed. “Relationship? Please. She’s an assistant and you’re her boss,” Lee said.

“She’s actually a floater, according to her intake paperwork,” Tre said. This, you did whip your head around to look at him. “She could be reassigned at any point to another desk once she was done clearing my backlog. So she wasn’t exactly my employee, rather an employee of the company at large.”

Your lips parted, taking in this new information. What the hell was he on about?

“Get the fuck out of here,” Brianna said with a haughty laugh. Tre smiled.

“I know lawyers like specifics. So here’s a copy of her intake paperwork as well as the companies’ policy on interoffice romance. There’s nothing in the rules preventing us from dating. It was even colorfully stamped by HR,” he said. He handed Brianna the folder he had carried earlier.

You wracked your brain. There was one night last week that he had you sign a piece of paper. He told you that it was to protect you in case there was any blowback. Sneaky bastard. You had to start asking more questions.

Brianna snatched the folder, stood up, and skimmed through the paperwork, her face twisting the further in she got. You looked at Tre who winked at you. A grin split your face. This man thought of fucking everything. Things you hadn’t even considered.

All you knew was that it would be the end of your career if anyone ever found out about you two. You were sure that you’d become the office joke. A cliche. A boss banging his assistant. What else was new?

There was still that possibility. People shunning you, thinking you were getting over by being on your knees. It shouldn’t matter what people think, but it did. You wanted to be an adult and be taken seriously.

You accepted the risk when you accepted Tre’s tongue down your throat. You only hoped you were strong enough to survive the fallout.

“You can’t be serious with this shit,” Brianna said, continuing to flip.

“Quite serious,” Tre said.

“Well, I guess we all learned a lesson about minding our own business, huh?” Lee asked and chuckled.

“Not exactly,” Tre said and smirked. “I’m actually glad we got that out of the way first. In the folder, you’ll also find the company’s policy on retaliation and whistleblowers.”

“What are you talking about?” Lee asked.

Tre stepped forward and put his briefcase on Lee’s desk. She looked at him quizzically while he opened it and dropped the evidence you collected onto her desk. He tapped the green file and put his hands in his pockets, looking at Lee with furrowed eyebrows and a grimace.

“You’ve been stealing from the company,” he said.

Lee looked from the file to Tre and burst into laughter, throwing her head back. Her laugh grated on your ears. Like a cawing bird. “What, what is this? A joke? Something your little girlfriend came up with while she was sucking your dick?”

You tilted your head and stepped forward. Heat burned in your chest. Like all the words you wanted to say got rolled into a ball and stuck in your lungs. Tre beat you to the punch.

“You can try to deflect by saying something foul, but it doesn’t change the facts. You’ve been skimming off of nearly every big account that we have. Billing them for things we don’t provide and padding your own pockets with it. You didn’t think anyone was going to notice?”

Lee continued to laugh, but when it was clear that she was the only one, she looked back down at the file. She sighed and opened the first page, skimming through. The smile slowly disappeared from her face as she did so.

“All you have is a bunch of invoices with your name on it,” Lee said. She sniffed and brushed invisible lint from her cream-colored suit jacket.

“I have my copy with my name on it. But these were your accounts that you passed on to me. The system still has you flagged as the primary point of contact. And no use trying to erase it, I already contacted IT to lock you out of the system,” Tre said.

Lee turned icy blue eyes towards Tre. “You think you’re so fucking clever, don’t you? That you’re just going to ride off into the sunset cackling over what you and your whore came up with?”

You stepped forward again. “Watch how you fucking speak about me,” you said. All respect flew out of the window. She was caught off guard but that didn’t give her any excuse to speak about you like that. In her eyes, you were nothing more than a whore, spreading your legs, and getting over on the company dime. You knew that wasn’t true. What you and Tre shared was special, even as cliche as it was.

Tre held up his hand. You looked at him, fire in your eyes, ready to keep going. She wasn’t going to walk out of here with all of her teeth if she continued to call you out of your name.

“You are the stupidest man I’ve ever met. There’s not anything she can offer you that can be worth all this,” Brianna said.

“I don’t have to explain myself or my relationship to you. That’s the fun part about being exes,” Tre said.

You grinned at Brianna and turned around to Tre in time to see Lee standing, grabbing her office phone. “Tre, look out!” You yelled, legs propelling you forward as if you meant to put yourself in between him and the desk phone.

He turned a second too late, enough to bring his arm up and block Lee but the phone still touched some part of him. He grunted, fighting with Lee over the desk phone. You wanted to jump in, but he was a big dude. He could handle his own until security arrived.

You turned, heading towards the door. Brianna blocked your path. “What did you do to him? Why did you break him? He was perfect!” She yelled.

You stepped closer to her. “He still is perfect. He just doesn’t want your desperate ass. If he gets hurt while I’m busy dealing with you, there’s not a cop in America that’ll find your body,” you said, looking her in the eye to make sure she understood.

Brianna’s eyes widened, stepping away. Lee and Tre were still struggling. You threw open the door and yelled for the assistant to call security and upper management. The assistant looked at you and you screamed once more to get her in gear.

Brianna stood frozen in place, looking at Tre like someone stole her puppy. Again, you understood. If you lost him, you’d be sick in the head too. But she only had one more time to look at him like that before you snatched her eyes out.

Tre had managed to flip Lee onto her desk and held her there while you waited for security. An executive showed up and demanded to know what the hell was going on.

All the adrenaline from the confrontation and fight left you shaky and weak. You sat in the nearest chair while you dealt with the aftermath. Brianna handled the legal side, guess she was good for something. Tre answered most of the questions about the theft. You had to give your testimony when the cops were called in, but they let you go for the time being while they went over your evidence.

The entire office, or what was left of them, came out of their cubicles to witness a screaming Lee being led away in handcuffs. You trailed behind, holding hands with Tre. It hadn’t dawned on you that you were until you passed by Henry. He looked down at your combined hands and you bit your lip. Whoops.

He only smiled and nodded, like he understood. Poor Henry. He deserved someone to love him back, he was sweet and kind. You were just far more interested in mean assholes who enjoyed having the upperhand in the relationship.

Outside, an ambulance was called to check Tre out. He wouldn’t let you leave, holding onto your hand and keeping you rooted to the spot. “You need to let them check you out,” you told him. Red and blue lights flashed over his mischievous face.

“They can check me out with you standing right here,” he said and gave you a wink. He had a nasty cut above his eye, blood leaking from the wound. It made your stomach watery looking at it. You hated to see him hurt.

The EMT doctored the wound and gave a brief exam for a concussion. They cleared him, but told him the protocol to have you watch for signs of internal bleeding. They told him to pop some Tylenol and go to a doctor if he didn’t feel well later.

“I got someone to take good care of me,” Tre said and winked at you. The EMT laughed and wished you good luck while he placed a bandage over Tre’s eye.

You yawned, though you weren’t really sleepy. Exhausted, sure, but you didn’t want to go to sleep. You didn’t want to end the day without getting a few things off of your chest.

“You weren’t going to tell me about the HR thing?” You asked.

“Didn’t want to freak you out in case we ended up breaking some type of rule. I didn’t plan on Brianna being here, though,” he said.

You looked across the parking lot while she spoke to the cops. Lee was raging in the backseat of a cop car. You shivered in the cold air, night fast approaching and dropping the temperature.

“No one did. Must’ve got her dickmatized,” you said and chuckled.

“Ha-ha, I’m glad stalking is funny to you,” he said.

“OH! You don’t think being possessive and stalker-ish is funny?” You said, being dramatic and clapping.

“I want you to remember this conversation,” he said. He smirked as he stood up, cleared by the EMT.

“Wait, I’m sorry!” You said, but you started laughing at his expression and couldn’t find a way to stop. He turned stern eyes towards you, eyebrows furrowed and no trace of humor.

“I’m sorry! I take it back,” you said, laughs erupting from you.

“Remember all this,” he said, his soft voice working wonders on your imagination. You shuddered to think of what he could possibly have planned for you. Then again, he didn’t know what you had planned for him either.

You grabbed your things from the office, awkwardly walking past dozens of employees who wanted more information. You promised to say what you could, hoping that the rumor mill didn’t spin too much out of control.

Tre didn’t want to let you out of his sight, convinced that you would run from his particular brand of punishment. Considering you knew that his punishments usually involved you bent over something, ass smarting from his spankings, you weren’t exactly complaining.

On the way to his place, you checked in with him to make sure that he was okay. That he wasn’t hurt in some other kind of way. You tried to tell him that he didn’t have to do anything tonight, he was in a major fight and was hit upside the head with a desk phone.

He thought you were just trying to get out of your punishment. Well, yes, but that was beside the point. You were worried about him.

At his place, he let you inside. “I’ll give you five minutes to prepare,” he said, a smirk crossing his sinful face.

You gasped, smiling despite yourself. “Seriously? I said I was sorry!” You said.

“I know,” he said and smiled. You waited, but he didn’t offer anything else other than that damn smirk.

You sighed, rolled your eyes, and headed upstairs to his bedroom. Your legs wobbled. Your hands shook for entirely different reasons this time. This was real. This was the right time. And while he was contemplating tearing your ass up, you were contemplating the right moment to tell him.

Before? During? After? Would he assume you only said it because he got hurt? Or that you said it to avoid getting punished?

You went to his huge bathroom, stripping out of your dress. Underneath, you wore a sexy new teddy that you picked up with his card. Somehow, your love for him cured your squeamishness about using his money. Go figure. He insisted. And you weren’t the type to overspend on someone else’s dime. So you shopped guilt free for an all black lingerie outfit.

A sheer, satin little number that showed off your body in the best possible way. The important bits were covered tastefully, but the sheer fabric exposed your belly, back, and top of your breasts.

It was surprisingly comfortable to wear all day, like sexy pajamas and the best part was that he had no clue. It was for you just as much as it was for him. It made you feel confident, sexy, and strong as you walked into Lee’s office. Brianna was a curveball and you didn’t know how working with her was going to go, but fuck her. Miss Headband wasn’t your problem.

“Five minutes are up,” Tre called out.

You took a deep breath and looked at yourself in the mirror. You had this. You left the bathroom and stopped in your tracks. No matter how many times you thought you had the upper hand, Tre was always there to remind you who was in charge.

He stood next to the bed with his shirt unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up, tie loose about his shoulders and slacks on. He took off his shoes and socks, feet planted firmly on the soft carpet. You had seen him in a similar state before, when he was either getting ready for work or getting ready for bed, but never before sex.

Your jaw slackened. Maybe you ought to wait. Getting spanked by your boss while he looked like this was hot as hell. You rubbed your thighs together, your pussy throbbing. His chest was shiny, gleaming in the light of the room. The chains around his neck shimmered. The black on black on him was killing you from the inside out.

He smirked, seeing your outfit. “It appears we had similar ideas,” he said.

“Yup,” you squeaked. You slapped your hand to your face. That was not sexy. So you opened your eyes, squared your shoulders, and walked closer to him. “Before we get started, there is something you should know.”

He lifted an eyebrow, watching you approach. Watching your hips sway. The confident dip to your shoulders. You grabbed onto the necktie around his shoulders, wrapping the ends around your hands, and pulled him close.

“What’s that? Begging isn’t going to change my mind,” he said.

You smiled. “I love you.”

Tre’s face dropped comically and you smirked, careful not to laugh. This was a serious matter. One that you hoped he took the correct way.

“You heard me. I love you. I have loved you for a while but it took too long for me to notice. You’ve knocked down every single brick wall I tried to throw in your face. Without even trying. And I’m glad you did.”

You brought him closer, kissing him. He was stiff at first, but he returned your kiss, hands hanging loosely by his sides. You broke the kiss and pushed him down on the bed. His legs spread apart and you walked in between, cupping his face in your hands.

“You are everything I ever prayed about,” you whispered.

He blinked at you, face unreadable. Did you mess up? Did he not believe you?

Nerves started to get the best of you. You smiled, nervously, pulling away from him. His hands grabbed hold of your hips, fingers digging in for purchase. You gasped from the force he used. Like he never, ever wanted to let you walk away.

“A day hasn’t gone by that I didn’t think about hearing those words from you,” he said, his raspy voice going deeper, needier. He stared at you and you smiled, relief flooding through you swiftly and making your knees weak.

“I know I gave you enough cause to worry–”

“It wasn’t that. I know I can come off a little strong,” he said. You gave him a look. He smiled and shook his head. “Alright, a lot strong. But I knew you were it for me. I wanted to be it for you,” he said.

“And you are. In so, so many ways,” you said. Too many for you to name. Because if you started, you’d be here all night reciting the ways that you loved him. Like some lovesick rabbit.

“I love you. I’m so thankful you’re in my life,” he said. He grinned at you. You leaned down and kissed him, throwing your arms around his neck. You took your time getting lost in his kisses. Wrapped up in them. Comforted by them.

Then, you began to kiss down his neck and his chest. His breath shuddered as you went lower and lower. You knelt on the floor, reaching for his zipper.

“Sir, I’m so sorry to disturb you. But there’s this invoice I’m having trouble with,” you said, making your voice low and sultry. Tre lifted an eyebrow at you, smirking.

“Is that right?” He asked.

You bit your lip and nodded, pulling his zipper down. You reached for his dick, pulling it free from his briefs. He was already big, swelling with need the longer you held him in your hand. He sighed, air blowing through his nose.

“Do you think you can help me? I think I need hands on instructions,” you said. You stroked him softly, your hands grazing over his velvety smooth dick. He was trying, and failing, to keep looking at you. He closed his eyes, throwing his head back with a delicious moan.

“Go ahead and put your mouth on it,” he said. He dropped his head down, focusing on you. You smirked. You opened your mouth and descended, wrapping your lips around the head of his dick.

He groaned, hips coming off of the bed briefly before settling back down. He cupped your cheek, thumb fanning across it. “Keep doing well like that, I might have to promote you,” he said.

You grinned, suckling him down further. You teased his tip, swirling your tongue and collecting little drops of precum. You sucked the salty mixture down, moaning at his taste. You looked at him while you increased your strokes, drooling on his dick, and sucking him down as far as he could go.

He moaned, pulling you down onto his dick faster. You obliged, hollowing your cheeks so that he didn’t accidentally make you gag on his dick. You braced your hands on his thighs, giving up total control to him. He used your mouth, little curses flying from his own as he did so.

You watched him, his image turning shaky as you bobbed up and down. But you loved seeing the transition on his face. The subtle way he stopped being careful and let his primal instincts take over. The way he sloppily pulled you down onto him, gurgling and sucking on him. More precum seeped into your mouth and you swallowed him down.

“Oh fuck,” he whispered before he tensed and let his climax overtake him. He groaned while he unloaded in your mouth and you sucked every last drop. When he was done, his eyes got wider.

“Shit. Did I hurt you?” He asked.

You rolled your aching jaw and shook your head. “Not at all,” you told him.

He still looked a little horrified. He had been so careful to always be sweet. Giving you pleasure before his own. You only kissed his thigh and rubbed your cheek against his leg, hairs tickling your face.

He sighed and tilted his head at you. “Why are you so perfect?” He asked.

You giggled and kissed his leg. “Far from perfect. But I’m glad you think so,” you told him. He helped you stand and then you straddled him, wiggling on his lap.

He grabbed your ass, squeezing your cheeks for dear life. You groaned, gyrating into his crotch. He sighed, kissing along your neck. He kissed along your jaw, capturing your lips with his and you sighed into the kiss, melting into his embrace.

One of his hands slipped between you, moving your lingerie to the side and sliding a knuckle along your slit. You hissed, gyrating once more. He moaned and pulled away from the kiss. “You weren’t gonna tell me how wet you are?” He asked.

“I thought you liked surprises,” you said with a fake pout, kissing him again. He grinned against your lips. You pulled back to look at him. A dark glint entered his eye while he started to finger you, dragging moans and sighs from you like a musician to an instrument.

Before long, you were clutching onto his shoulders, hanging on, while you screamed out an orgasm. He continued to pump his fingers inside while you came and when you were done, he pulled his fingers out and licked them. He smirked.

You tilted your head. The hand that was still on your ass, came around your waist as he flipped you off of him and onto the bed. He joined you, pulling your set to the side and dipping a long tongue into your wet heat.

“Oh shit!” You screamed. You tried to wiggle away from him, but he held you by the thighs. He pushed them further apart while he sucked, licked, and teased your clit.

“Oh fuck,” you whined. Your voice sounded alien to you. Needy. Desperate. Out of your mind with insane pleasure. The love you felt for him only increased tenfold as he teased another orgasm from you. You gripped onto his head, pushing his face into your pussy while he slurped greedily at your entrance.

You collapsed onto the bed with a deep sigh. Your thighs were still shaking as he leaned up into a pushup on top of you. You weakly slapped at his chest, feeling so damn good and noodle-like that you didn’t want this night to end.

Tre kissed along the teddy that you wore, warm breath fanning across your oversensitive body. He calmed you in waves, body returning to normal before he scooted up. He kissed you and you tasted yourself on his tongue. You moaned while he got comfortable.

You pushed the shirt off of his shoulders, wanting to feel and see more of him. His chains dangled from his thick neck and you watched, mesmerized by the gold. He lined himself up, sliding his dick between your folds to get him nice and wet with your juices.

“I need it,” you moaned, staring up at him like you were drunk.

“What you need?” He asked.

“I need you,” you whispered. He kissed you again, lips lingering while he slowly pushed inside. You gasped, cries escaping you.

“I need you, too,” he said. He bottomed out and you cried, clutching him to you. You bit his shirt while he began to stroke, hips rotating and fucking you.

Your whines were tinny and small, gasping for breath while he fucked it out of you. Your nails scratched him, deep through his shirt, while he stroked. As he did so, he kissed you slowly. His lips warm. His dick big, digging you out.

“I love you, I love you,” you huffed. The orgasm was approaching fast. Like you were being pulled towards an oncoming storm.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” he chanted, each stroke a new declaration. A new stake. Planting himself as deep as possible. Ingraining into your very bones.

“Cum for me, baby,” he groaned, desperate eyes locked with yours.

You pulled his shirt, back bowing, as the storm overtook you. You screamed, eyes rolling back into the void, as you came. You may have been speaking in tongues. You may have been speaking perfect Mandarin. The only thing you did know was that the orgasm was powerful and took your hearing in one ear.

It rung as you held on. Tre’s strokes turned sloppy, uncoordinated, as he grunted and came with a long, suspended curse. “Fuck,” he said.

You collapsed onto the bed and he collapsed on top of you. You looked at him and laughed. No reason why. You just felt free. Happy. He did that for you.

“You make me so happy,” you told him.

His chuckles joined yours while he turned his head towards you. “You make me so fucking happy. Even happier if you accepted my marriage proposal,” he said.

You rolled your eyes. You supposed you saw that coming. “I ain’t hear no proposal,” you said.

He chuckled, getting back to his hands. He pulled out, wet squelching making you hiss and bite your lip. He pulled on the nightstand dresser, pulling out a small black box. You leaned up on your elbows. “Tre, what the hell is that?” You asked.

He didn’t say anything as he opened the box. Inside was a gorgeous obsidian ring, inlay with gold pieces. He slipped it into your finger, a perfect fit. He took advantage of your distracted state, kissing you. He pushed back inside, pulling a deep gasp from your lungs. “Marry me,” he commanded.

You opened your mouth, prepared to give him another bratty response. He repeated his stroke, knocking the breath out of you with the force of it. “Fu-yes! Yes, I’ll marry you!”

He smiled wide and it made your toes curl. “You better had a said yes.”

“Or what?” You asked.

Though you regretted it as soon as he showed you exactly what would’ve happened had you said no. And what happened because you said yes. You made love into the early morning light until you were both too sore and exhausted to do anything but fall asleep after clumsily cleaning each other up in the bathroom.

The end.

#Megaminds Secret Files #The Secret Tre Files #Candy Cane Lane fanfic #Candy Cane Lane fan fic #Candy Cane Lane fanfiction #Candy Cane Lane fan fiction #Tre x Black!reader #Tre x Black reader #x Black reader #Tre x Fem!reader #Tre x Fem reader #x Fem reader #Tre x plus size reader #Assistant!reader #Trevante Rhodes fanfic #Trevante Rhodes fan fiction #Trevante Rhodes fan fic #Trevante Rhodes fanfiction

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leviaana · 10 months

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Miraculous Movie Review (Rating: 4/10)

I watched the preview of the Awakening movie yesterday and really want to share my honest review. There’s going to be several things that I’ll criticize. So be warned!

Also: Spoilers!! DON’T read it if you haven’t seen it yet. This is my personal opinion. So please stay excited for it!! 🐞🪄

First of all, my overall rating for this movie is a 4/10. Just yesterday I was ready to give it a 5/10, but quickly noticed it had much more things that upset me than I initially realized when walking out of the movie.

I know it’s a pretty low rating coming from such a huge fan like myself, but that’s probably the main issue. I’m a big fan of the show, so changes in lore and characterization will be more apparent to me. For better or for worse, in this case, mostly for worse.

On the first glimpse the movie seems like a retelling - a soft reboot, if you will - of show’s origin story. The plot goes much further than that however, as it also provides a conclusion in form of a final battle with Hawkmoth as well as an identity reveal of our two main heroes.

In order to ensure the entire premise fits into a 90 minute movie, a lot of things regarding the shows lore were simplified. I say that as a neutral statement seeing as a simplification can be either a good thing or a bad thing, depending on your opinion of the source material.

Personally, it left me rather unsatisfied but I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s start with the good things!

One of the things I really enjoyed was the animation! Seeing miraculous with such a high production value certainly felt like a cool summer breeze. While I do prefer the original character models style wise, it was still just nice to see them in this cutesie pretty style! The locals were gagging!

Ladybug and Cat Noir were especially gorgeous!

I also really enjoyed the singing. I watched the German dub and it was very neat!

Sad to say that was pretty much how long my enjoyment lasted. Everything apart from what I’ve mentioned above was… interestingly handled… to say the least. Let me elaborate.

1. The dialogue was awful!

Truly not the biggest fan of musicals but I couldn’t wait for them to start singing just in order for them to STOP TALKING 😩!

The dialogue was so awkward and stiff. All of the characters were interacting very weirdly with each other. At times it would sound like several lines of dialogue were cut from the final version, as the characters barely acknowledged each other verbally. They didn’t talk with each other, but past each other.

Moreover, every second phrase was a very cheesy one liner. “Believe in yourself.”, “Listen to your heart.”, “stronger together”. Super overdone.

The movie wanted to be inspirational so bad, it forgot to be genuine.

Some examples that I recall from memory:

“Mom, I don’t have any friends and I’m scared to go I school.”

“Just believe in yourself, Marinette.”

“Okay, thanks.”

Or.

“Tikki, I’m in love with Adrien.”

“Listen to your heart, Marinette.”

“My heart……Adrien.”

2. How did they manage to make Ladynoir banter … weird and uncomfortable to watch?

Don’t let these pretty movie shots fool you because Movie!ladynoir spent their time in a constant roasting competition that they were somehow both losing!

Not once did they manage to establish that flirty and charming atmosphere around them. No, they were draaaagging each other through filth. And maybe it could have been somewhat fun, god knows I love couples that can roast each other. If only the dialogue was better and didn’t reek of “we have no idea how young people interact”.

In a desperate attempt to make jokes, they let Chat call LB a sidekick or watermelon in every. single. scene. To say that it got annoying when the jokes didn’t land the first 10 times they were made is an understatement. No Milady, no Bugginette, no little wink or a kiss on the hand. Only watermelon and sidekick. Them talking in weird cut off phrases. With careless whisper playing in the background.

Don’t get me wrong, there are some beautiful moments. But their beauty can only ever do so much when met with weird pacing, dialogue and characterization. I’ll talk about that last part in a minute.

3. Everything was so on-the-nose.

The characters would constantly say how they feel and what they think aloud. Jeremy didn’t trust us with even an ounce of media literacy. Classic case of always telling, never showing. Not to mention the constant inspirational quoting in a desperate attempt to convey some deep message. Is this a movie script or my moms facebook page? I guess we‘ll never know.

4. Characterization: Marinette

Having Marinette be somewhat scatterbrained but overall still respected by her peers is not inspirational enough! Make her your average teenage outcast and a total loser. Dad, you’re embarrassing me in front of the cool kids!

If you enjoy that kind of characterization that’s okay! Personally, I thought it was very cliche. It just.. didn’t do anything for her as a character. Having her start off at a much „lower” point in life, with almost no support system, only makes her coming of age journey to eventually become a self accepting confident heroine take longer. Seeing as the movie is only 90 minutes, the moment we see her “shine” is when it’s all almost over.

5. Ladybug …?

Did I mention Ladybug doesn’t use her lucky charm? Not. once. No crazy plans to show that she’s smart and creative. Just a pretty girl swinging around.

6. Adrien

I have a bit more to criticize about the characterization of Movie!Adrien.

The longer I think about it, the more it becomes apparent that they really didn’t know how to write Adrien. His personality appears inconsistent, almost like they were trying to fit him in too many roles at once. He is either extremely closed off and mysterious (even towards his friends), a comic relief character, bathing in self pity or just outright cocky. Those hoping to see his politeness and selflessness will be disappointed. This character only is ever shown to be self centered. A perfect example is how he *didn’t do anything* to be called worthy of the Black Cat Miraculous. He was just one of the „chosen ones“. When the Adrien from the series sacrificed his own freedom to help Master Fu.

Another example is how this Adrien doesn’t really see anything in Marinette. He called her strange in their first interaction and never really lost a single thought on her throughout the rest of the series. No common praises, no support, just awkwardness and not the wholesome kind. In fact, I would argue Marinette and Adrien aren’t even friends in the movie, the only interaction to suggest otherwise was slammed as a 5 second scene in a 2 minute montage.

Even if you were to suggest their bond was formed off screen. We don’t really see it ever take root. He even turned down her gift and invitation to go to the ball with her. Yes, you guessed correctly. It was because he was busy bathing in self pity over being rejected by Ladybug. Yikes.

To sum it up, this Adrien really doesn’t care about anyone but himself. Ever. They massacred my boy.

7. Chat Noir

His charming smugness as Chat Noir crossed the fine line that turned to arrogance.

Considering how Adrien was characterized, that comes as no surprise.

As mentioned in my criticism towards the dialogue and the Ladynoir dynamic, this Cat is often seen discrediting LB with unfunny jokes. The moment you see him actually appreciate Ladybug, open up to her and Woo her, it’s all overshadowed by his entitlement to her affection.

Some may argue that we see traces of such attitude in the show as well. However, in a series, Chat Noir has many redeeming qualities as well as time to grow, change and move past these flaws. And boy, move past these flaws he did. In the movie, it’s all you get. Take it or leave it.

In one scene, he even lets her think he was hurt by an Akuma in order to catch her worrying about him. It was just a short scene and most people would look past it, but I think it’s these small details that really show how these movie characters tick in comparison to the series.

8. Akumas/Hawkmoth

Just a small detail that kind of ended up taking away the enjoyment of all action scenes is how the Akumas in the movie do not have a motive. There’s just some random people that you don’t care about before their akumatization and that you won’t care about after.

Hawkmoth doesn’t make a deal with them, ask for ladybug and chat noirs miraculous in exchange for his powers, none of that.

He just makes them evil and they do evil things for shits and giggles. The movies premise doesn’t even suggest he needs the miraculous. He just needs to get close enough to Ladybug and Chat Noir to steal Tikki and Plagg.

9. The Ending

I just wanted to dip into that ending real quick. In the movie, Gabriel is redeemed when he finds out about Chat Noir being Adrien. He apologizes to him and they make up. The scene surely will make people emotional, but from my perspective it was all rather predictable.

Whether or not Gabe was worthy of a redemption in the movie is a topic to discuss on its own. Personally, I was okay with it.

What I found more interesting however was…

10. The reveal

This is the moment most people have been waiting and yearning for. And I may sound a bit smug when I say that the movie served a good purpose to show us that a fast reveal would have never ever been satisfying!

It was super underwhelming because - of course it was!

Marinette and Adrien barely had a connection! For all we know they could have been total strangers and their reaction to each other’s identity wouldn’t have been any different than what we saw in the movie.

We never saw Marichat or Ladrien interact either. So that certainly lead to a less explored dynamics. Cue unsatisfying reveal.

They really tried to make it this big emotional final moment, but really? We just saw Ladybug and Chat Noir lean in for a kiss without their masks. Like in a new fit. Nothing really groundbreaking came out of it.

Any fake reveal in the show was better than that and I mean it with every fiber of my being.

And don’t even get me started on how Adrien only ever noticed Marinette when she revealed to be Ladybug. It’s just not it.

Final thoughts.

There’s sooo many more things that I could elaborate on but I think for now I’ve said enough to support my rather poor rating of the movie.

In my opinion, the movie relies too much on people enjoying the source material while trying to be its own thing. It risks leaving everyone unsatisfied.

Those who watch the movie as a stand-alone are met with weird dialogue as well as plot, characters and dynamics that aren’t at all fleshed out.

Meanwhile those who watch the movie because they like the show will be inevitably comparing the movie to its far superior source material.

#miraculous ladybug #ml #miraculous #ladybug #adrien agreste #chat noir #cat noir #marinette dupain cheng #miraculous the movie #awakening #mlb awakening #mlb movie #ladybug and cat noir the movie

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angelwithdemonictendencies · 3 months

Text

know me the way you know your childhood scars, like breathing; i wasn't running but if i was i'm glad it was to you.

tz11 x reader: a small town, a fresh start, a shared heart.

(warnings: blasphemous filth, unprotected penetrative sex (m on f), hair pulling, thigh-riding (this is newish), dirty talk (if you're new, welcome!), mentions of previous relationship being awful, i know i'm forgetting stuff but all my typical things. (please be warned, don’t read if you’re not 100% sure.)

(a/n: my favorites - i think jd6 getting traded was exactly what i needed in order to write a tz11 character who is actually a nice guy. i call that the best-friend-getting-a-new-best-friend-who-is-named-cam-york effect. anyways, this is long as hell (14k, anyone?), because i have recently been absolutely so over law school guys. i just want a guy who likes to get his hands dirty and actually has friends. too much to ask? okay. obviously, i got so insanely carried away here, as you will be able to tell. we've got about a million side characters, some of which you will recognize, some of which you will not, because i made them up (tell me why i'm so into the matt/bridget dynamic. could write about just them. maybe i will). you guys know that there will be plot holes and dialogue issues and the likes, but you love me anyways, and i love you for that. tz11 should enjoy this, because i know he will inevitably be back in my bad graces soon enough. next up is someone new (!) because i miss when people used to write about tyson jost left and right. hm, what else? tell me what you think, what you'd like to see. my one year anniversary since my first post is feb. 2 (i actually can't believe how fast it went by, and i'm so grateful for you for sticking with me). so, so much love to you and your snakes. go canucks. until next time.

this was probably a terrible idea, you thought, with your suitcases beside you, your head in your hands at the foot of the bed that would be yours for the foreseeable future. one bed of several at a local inn - local to this town, at least, not local to you.

no, you thought, jittery with unknowing and chance and uncertainty, none of this was familiar to you. not this town in the middle of nowhere, hundreds and hundreds of miles from your hometown, your university. not any of the few people you had interacted with, not the uber driver, the inn keeper, the housekeeping staff.

not one part of this place, this experience, not one part was familiar. but that's what you'd wanted, wasn't it? that was the whole point?

you'd wanted to find yourself, wanted to prove that you could take care of yourself, exist on your own, thrive outside of the bubble that was university.

you wanted a fresh start, away from ex-boyfriend and ex-best friend, their betrayal still fresh, a wound scabbing over on your heart. you wanted to breathe deeply and not worry about who was watching you exhale - a place where nobody knew you, where nobody could whisper about the girl whose boyfriend was cheating on her with her best friend. for three years. she's so stupid, how could she not have noticed?

well, here, you decided, that's what you would get. a humble job as a diner waitress lined up to start tomorrow, a booked room with no check-out date, not a laugh you'd recognize for miles and miles.

this is what you'd wanted, you told yourself, now, loneliness settling in your mouth the way the powder on sour candy does. this is what you have.

completely exhausted from travel and emotional havoc, you passed out that night amidst dreams of fresh starts and trees too tall to see you behind them.

such a lovely image did not last nearly an hour into the next morning, the first day of your new job, just a block or so from the inn you were staying at.

this was part of the reason you had chosen this place for your self-discovery journey, after all - the urgent hiring, competitive wage, amazingly low price for room and board.

you had worked in your university's coffee shop for a year or two to help pay your tuition, so, honestly, how different could it be?

very different, you realized, almost immediately. they were hiring urgently for a reason, which meant there was practically nobody there to train you. one of the line cooks, of all people, just threw you an apron and a name tag to wear over your uniform-compliant black skirt and shirt, mumbled something about a welcome, enunciated something louder about table three needing service.

and so your self-proclaimed new life began completely unceremoniously, with a name-tag that misspelled your name, the smell of waffles and western omelets permeating the air like some grandmother's perfume in an old living room.

at the very least, the business made the time pass quickly, as you paced from table to table, only pausing briefly to introduce yourself to the line, the host, the several curious patrons who asked about you.

"new girl," some impossibly old man husked, "they not have hot coffee where you're from?" he grimaced as he took another sip. "cold as a winter's -"

"okay, that's enough," his companion said, a woman, probably in her mid-twenties, with blonde hair chopped short. she gave you a sympathetic look, like you two were sharing some inside joke. you liked her immediately. "he's had about twelve cups already. don't mind him."

you felt your mouth tick up in a smile for what might have been the first time this morning as you introduced yourself to her, and her father, who you learned everyone affectionately called "old man peters." you learned that the young woman's name was bridget, and she insisted on giving you her number, in case you had any questions, or wanted to get together, or needed anything at all.

your day was already looking up, you thought, as you lifted your sulking ponytail from you back, loose strands curling at the nape of your neck, around your ears. bridget and old man peters bid you goodbye, and then the young host, a boy who stuttered so much over his name that you still didn't quite know what it was, sheepishly alerted you that he had seated a group at the booth in your section.

your flipped to a new page in your notepad as you walked back to the booth, your gaze quickly being tugged up by a drawl-ish voice blurting out "dibs! i call dibs!"

such as exclamation was followed by several groans and one "not fair, you're the only one facing the door."

your brow was slightly scrunched in confusion when you stood at the head of the group's table, four pairs of eyes faced to you in a way that made you feel like a politician about to give a speech.

you cleared your throat, not quite looking anyone in the face. "good morning," you said, "can i get you guys started with some drinks?"

you looked up from your notepad, clicking your pen against the surface of it, taking in the table of - well, you weren't really sure. construction workers, maybe? craftsmen? the four of them had on heavy canvas-like jackets, worn and worked in, highlighter-bright shirts underneath, callused hands that your observant eyes took note of immediately. they were young, too, probably about your age, which made you blush, only a little. these were not the kind of guys you had met in college, the kind who you would have taken a class on freud with, the kind who thought everything with a woman's hand around it was a phallic symbol.

"just coffee," one of them said, short. he tacked on a please when one of his friends smacked him lightly on the back of the head.

you motioned with your pen around the whole table. "for everyone?" you asked, but the question stumbled out of your mouth when your eyes caught on the last of the four, the one on the bench on the right, closest to you.

that sharp face, high cheekbones and cut jaw, should have been so serious, you thought, like some kind of statue, the kind your art history friends would have fawned over in a museum you didn't really want to go to. he should have been so serious, angular like that, but he was anything but. mirth danced in his eyes, so bright they almost sparkled. his full mouth was fixed in a sort of perpetual smirk, so ready to laugh that he was already halfway there. he had the lines around his eyes that told you his full smile would tear you in two.

you were probably staring at him, you realized, flushing deeper as his smirk broke free into something wider, all over his face.

"see, guys," he spoke, that goofy drawl you had noticed on your way over, nothing like the pretentious academics who spoke in circles. he leaned back in the booth. "doesn't matter that i called dibs. she likes me best anyways."

your face scrunched up in some combination of disbelief and hidden delight. "wait," you began, "when i was walking over here, when you said something about dibs," you fixed him with what you hoped was a glare, "you were calling dibs on me?"

he shrugged off his jacket, drawing attention to his wide shoulders, arms thick even through his bright long sleeve. you snapped your gaze back to his eyes, which shimmered, telling you that you'd been caught. "what's the big deal?"

you scoffed, blew a stray curl from your eye line. "you don't call dibs on people," you said.

"yeah, trevor," one of his friends teased, "what's wrong with you?"

"where to begin?" one of the others said, almost lost in thought.

"c'mon, sugar," trevor said, tilting his head, "'s a compliment, yeah?" his gaze rolled down your frame, almost gelatinous, meeting your eyes again reluctantly. "only 'cause you're so pretty, hm?"

you rolled your eyes, fixed your gaze on the one across from him, the one who looked the least engaged. "but, trevor," you whined, stretching out his name like salt-water taffy, "what if i wanted-" you paused, looked down at the blonde just below you.

"matt," he said, practically bored. you nodded your thanks.

"what if i wanted matt?"

his posture grew even more relaxed as he shifted his knees wider under the table. "oh, what if, sugar?" he mused, his eyes so expressive, never off of you for a moment.

"she's gonna spit in your coffee," matt said.

"how about we cut out the middle man and she just spits in my mouth?" he chirped, smirk so telling it made you flush pink.

you mumbled something about decorum before walking away in a flurry of annoyance and excitement. you couldn't really tell the difference, you realized, as you gave the poor host a pot of coffee and asked him kindly to drop it off at the back booth.

you were not something to be called dibs on, that was for sure, and you were here to find yourself, not anyone else, certainly not some guy. even if some guy had soft-looking hair and a witty mouth. even then.

you took a stabilizing breath and got back to work, noting that the back booth only got coffee, only stayed for about twenty minutes before making to leave, heavy jackets loud as they shrugged them back on.

three of the guys called out their thanks and headed out, leaving only a standing trevor there when you approached to settle their bill. thumbing through his wallet, he grinned down at you when you finally stood in front of him again.

he was taller than you thought, you realized, as he now stood at full height. you had to crane your neck slightly to look him fully in the face.

"thought you'd be shorter," you said, honestly, hoping to knock him down a peg, however mean that might have been. but of course he only smirked.

"get that a lot," he drawled, selecting a bill, putting his wallet back in his pocket with hands you had to force yourself not to stare at. "been told 've got the personality of a short guy in the body of a tall one."

you shook your head. of course someone had told him that.

you couldn't really ruminate on that, though, as he stuck the twenty in the front pocket of your apron, as well as something with a slight weight to it, urging an angry pink to the tops of your ears, the feeling of his wide hand warm, so close to you.

you peered up at him, sucked on your teeth as he pulled out his hand slowly, that ever-present smirk almost faltering at your gaze.

"thanks for the service, sugar," he said, and you probably imagined the way the end of his words sounded strained. "see you around, yeah?"

you didn't break eye contact, only let yourself smile back at him before turning and getting back to work, letting the push and pull of waitressing lull you into a rhythm during which it was practically impossible to think too heavily about bright eyes and broad shoulders.

by the end of your shift, you had been officially tired out. you were sure your hair reeked of coffee, and your ankles ached from standing all day.

going to empty your apron, however, right before you left, your hand settled on the bill from earlier, but also several wrapped butterscotch candies. your face contorted as you stared at them, wondering why trevor had put them there.

exhaustion won over curiosity though, as you thanked everyone for your first day and walked the short block back to the inn.

this won't be that bad, you were thinking to yourself as you walked up the stairs. you already had the phone number of a maybe-friend, after all, and as far as jobs went, this one could be a lot worse. good money, good way to meet new people, maybe even something pretty to look at -

as if summoned by your thoughts, when you turned out of the staircase to your hallway, there trevor was, standing on a ladder, looking into the ceiling, some box of tools on the floor.

you narrowed your eyes, bag suddenly feeling heavy on your shoulder. the presence of a new figure drew his gaze to you, and you had to scold your heart, the way it beat like a teenager at the way he looked at you, then. you didn't know him, after all, and you weren't here for anything romantic.

"you followin' me, sugar?" he asked, stepped down from the ladder, making his way over to you. his voice was slow and tired, from whatever he had done that day. you were shocked at the fact that you wanted to know what that was. his gaze shone as he gently took your bag from your shoulder and slugged it onto his own, fell into step beside you. you let him. "tell me you're following me."

you rolled your eyes, but the small smile on your face wasn't going anywhere. "this is where i'm staying," you explained, "so, if anything, you're following me."

you stopped in front of your door, leaned back against it, suddenly in no rush to lock yourself behind it, alone. not when he was on this side of the door, looking like this.

almost weary with hard work, but not weary enough to sour him, just enough to make his movements and expressions slightly slower, lazier, more indulgent, like they were drenched in chocolate ganache. not when he was here, looking at you like this, like you were the most interesting thing he'd ever seen.

after years at some preppy, pretentious university, at which ingenuity was the most valuable currency, one you felt you lacked so disgustingly, was it really too surprising that you softened under his gaze? that you wanted to stay in it, just a little bit longer?

"sugar?" he asked, head tilted, and you realized he had been talking.

"sorry, what?" you asked, your voice soft like sponge cake, willing your eyes to focus, your mind to focus harder.

he didn't tease you too badly, though, only let his smile grow sharper with a smirk. "i said that 'm sorry if i hurt your feelings with the dibs stuff," he said, and you were almost confused at his apology. you weren't even upset, and when was the last time someone had apologized to you so quickly after doing something?

your memory cut hazily to your ex, somehow trying to convince you it had been your fault that he cheated on you, that it was something you were lacking that had inevitably led him to do that. you practically shivered, then internally scolded yourself for comparing trevor, whom you had met today, you reminded yourself, to your ex-boyfriend.

"'s fine," you said, waving him off, your back softening further into the door. "didn't really hurt my feelings."

his eyes flashed. "didn't really or didn't, sugar?" he asked, searching your face.

you swallowed, acutely aware of his attention, how it slid down your nose, your cheeks, your jaw, slow and thick as sludge. "didn't."

he gave a nod. "'m sorry anyway," he said, and it came out low. "if you really want to go for matt, i won't stop you."

and part of you wanted to blurt out i don't want matt!

but it was your first day in this place, and honestly, you were still kind of hung up on his apology, and the way it sounded from his chapped lips, and you knew to correct him would be exactly what he wanted.

so you just said "thank you," and were shocked at how gentle it sounded.

"jesus christ, distracted, are we, trev?" the voice of the young inn-keeper called from the end of the hallway. he seemed awfully chipper as he approached, hands in his pockets. "i came up to check on your progress," he said, "or lack thereof, i guess." he looked between the two of you. "now i see who's stolen your attention."

"i'm on my legally-required fifteen minute break," trevor said, half-smiling, turning back to you. "sugar, you know my brother, griff?"

you nodded, suddenly clocking the subtle ways their appearances drew from each other. trevor was taller, griff had a wider face, bigger features. but they had the same eyes, same strong nose, mirroring grins. "he owns my room," you said, dumbly, tiredly.

griff only smiled. "she's had a long day, trev, leave her be."

trevor searched your face again, seemed to find all the proof he needed - your heavy eyelids, drooping shoulders. he gently handed your bag back to you. "i'll see you tomorrow, sugar," he said, as soft as you'd heard him. so soft it startled you. "sweet dreams."

"goodnight," you said to both of them, shutting the door behind you. sleep came easily that night, again, with dreams less so of hiding behind trees and more so of rough hands and laughing eyes.

you were surprised, pleasantly so, at how quickly you fell into a routine in your new home. surprised at how quickly you let yourself call this place that.

maybe it was the way that bridget wasn't just being polite when she had given you her phone number, as she had quickly set up dates to show you all her favorite hiking spots around. your weekly hikes with her became a highlight as she told you more about the town, about her young daughter, about book club, about anything and everything. she was so kind with you that you found yourself so comfortable confiding in her. it felt so easy calling her a friend.

maybe it was the way the town seemed to accept you as one of their own so quickly and genuinely. the line cooks flirted with you in the way only line cooks do (in ways that would not be acceptable outside of a kitchen). they made you food to take home, kept you from starving. the host, harry, began to trust you enough that he asked for your help on homework. the regulars began to recognize you, know your name, ask how you were doing. griff checked in on you, asked if anything was wrong with the room, said you should feel free to use his kitchen anytime (as your room was the simplest kind, and didn't have any cooking appliances). you began to know the names of the streets, the stores, the store owners. your fresh start was starting to feel like just that - a start.

or maybe it was that same group of guys who came in every morning, at the same time, who ordered only coffee and then left in a flush of waves and heavy jackets and called-out salutations. you learned that the one with the curly hair, alex, was the quietest, probably the smartest. his closest friend, cole, was the shorter one, who had the loudest laugh. and matt was warming up to you, you thought. the more you made fun of trevor, the more he seemed to like you.

it was that same group, every day, who came in loudly and left louder, who had paint and dirt smudged on their shirts, their hands. who drank coffee like it was water. who laughed like it was easy as breathing, and maybe that was how it was supposed to be.

and, of course, there was trevor, who, the more you got to know him, the more trouble he became. every day, his "good morning, sugar," would reverberate through your chest, and you would drop a pot of coffee at their table, ask how they were doing, listen for their answers.

some comments about how old man peters' roof is caving in, and he should have told them about it probably a year ago, or about how the police chief's plumbing is fucked, or about how they were going over to fix bridget's sink that day. and, if it was the last one, matt would flush, which would make your eyes widen, would make you pepper him with questions about his crush.

and then, at some point during their morning break, trevor would ask something about you, about how you were, about the way you were wearing your hair, the shoes you were wearing, the book you had been reading the week before. and then, as he left, without fail, he would slip a bill and several butterscotch candies into your apron pocket, each time his hand growing heavier, more significant as it settled so close to you.

it didn't particularly help your small crush that you saw him everywhere. he was always fixing something - in the diner, at the inn, in the park downtown. you couldn't escape him and his deft hands, his working mind, his strong frame and easy laugh and addictive smile.

he was everywhere, so of course he would be here, at the grocery store, after your shift one day. you were roaming the isles, looking for a specific kind of vinegar, your basket hoisted up onto your hip, when a low whistle made you turn. you were met with that lazy smirk, your favorite one of his, the nighttime one, the tired one. he approached you, his work boots heavy on the ground.

"you followin' me, trevor?" you asked, repeating what become something of an inside joke between the two of you.

"maybe," he said, looking down at you, shimmering eyes framed by long lashes. "do you want me to be following you, sugar?"

you hummed, noncommittal, some harmony between the fluorescent lights above, the whir of the fridges the next isle over. you turned back to the shelving, resumed your survey of the contents. "your brother offered his kitchen for me to use while he's out tonight," you said, not looking at him.

"did he?" trevor mused, an almost undetectable bite in his tone.

you nodded, eyes alight with excitement. "been eating pancakes and chicken noodle soup for weeks now," you said, referring to what the line cooks sent you home with. "swear my mouth's watering just thinking about something different." you ran a thumb along your bottom lip, as if checking for spit.

if you had been looking at trevor, you would have see his shallow swallow, the way his eyes tracked your movement, how his gaze hung from your mouth like lacy ribbon. he cleared his throat.

you finally located the vinegar you wanted, on the very top shelf. pushing yourself up on your tiptoes, you reached the tips of your fingers for the bottle, only just out of reach.

trevor only chuckled as he grabbed the bottle easily, took the basket from your hip and into his own hand, dropping the vinegar into it.

"i can carry that, you know," you said, suddenly wishing you had something to do with your hands.

"i know," he said, smug.

you rolled your eyes, huffed a thank you, anyways.

"so, what're you making?" he asked as you led him from aisle to aisle, loading your basket with ingredients.

you explained to him how, in college, this one salad had been your absolute favorite to make when you needed something that made you feel good. something about the combination of arugula, kale, chickpeas, sweet potato, whatever other vegetables you had on hand, sometimes chicken, if you were feeling fancy, something about the simple dressing of oil and vinegar - it was perfect. no meal left you feeling as good as this one did.

and it was how you had made it entirely on your own, too - it wasn't some fancy steak dinner your ex had buttered you up with after a fight, it wasn't boxed brownies shared with your old best friend the night before you found out - no, this was all you.

when you looked back at trevor, there was something molten in his gaze. "sounds amazing," he said, low, like he didn't want anyone else to hear.

you tilted your head, let your smile slant across you face, scrunched up your nose, teasing. "would you want to join me for dinner, trevor?"

his face split into a grin. "i would," he said, "i would want to, please."

and so you found yourself fumbling around someone else's kitchen with an audience, washing kale and peeling sweet potatoes with fingers that twitched towards the figure across the counter, practically irritated that they weren't touching him.

you scolded your hands to behave, which became easier as the night went on, as conversation flowed like cranberry juice, the flavor of it lingering in your mouth just the same.

he might ask you about how the diner was going, to which you would look around as if to make sure no one was there. his eyes would flash. you would miss this.

"harry's been making some real progress in precalc," you would say from behind your hand, speaking of the host, whom you had come to view very fondly. "and you didn't hear it from me, but i think he's going to ask his friend jason to the school dance next weekend."

you would be flushed with excitement and pride, and trevor wouldn't be able to get much beyond that, honestly, the way it lit you up from the inside out.

but then he would clear his throat, and lean forward on his hands, and tell you that if harry needed help asking jason to the dance, he knew exactly the best crew for the job.

"don't tell me you're talking about your rag-tag group of misfits," you would say, cocking a brow as you dressed the kale and arugula.

and he would feign offense, place a broad hand over his heart. "i'll have you know that this group of misfits went 16/16 in high school dance invitations," he would say. "all four of us, all four years."

you might roll your eyes. "real band of heartbreakers, were you?" you would say.

and laughter would shine behind his eyes like christmas tree lights behind store windows, and he would stretch his arms above his head, lazily, comfortably. "'course not," he would say, his voice the sort of raspy that comes with stretching, "only alex."

and this would pull a real laugh from you, as you tossed everything together, the kind of laugh that rung in his ears, that made him pleasantly dizzy.

as the night passed on, time moving altogether too fast and the kind of slow that oozes, you would learn about how he grew up in this town, how he went to trade school, how he had had the same friends his entire life. you would ask questions about if he ever felt the desire to leave (not really), how he got into manual labor (he never really felt like he was that good at anything else), what his family was like (close, but not overbearingly so).

and, in turn, between bites and sips and laughs, you would tell him about how you grew up (humbly), what school was like (hard, but rewarding), how you ended up here (cheap housing, good job, close community). and maybe you would actually tell him about the ultimate betrayal you had faced before you left, why that made you want to be somewhere, anywhere else, somewhere where you had no choice but to make a life entirely for yourself.

at the mention of your ex his jaw might clench, his mouth twitching ever so slightly. he would mutter something about nonsense, and you would smile.

he would ask questions about your family (just your dad and you), your favorite parts of your life here (hikes with bridget, homework sessions with harry, bickering with old man peters).

and he would pout, at that, his bottom lip looking so positively delicious it stole your breath. "'m not your favorite, sugar?" he would plead, joking.

maybe you would really look in his eyes, then, find something hot, tilt your head. "you wanna be?" you would ask, breathier than you intended.

and he would smirk, somehow flipping the dynamic on its head entirely with only a single expression. "you know i do, sugar," he would tell you, low and so loaded you would blush.

it might scare you how easily you let him in, how quickly you were warming up to him. his pretty face might scare you, because pretty faces had hurt you before. there had been no one prettier than your old best friend, after all, and look how that turned out.

so, when the night grew viscous, and the meal was long over, the dishes done, a portion for griff packed up in tubberware on the counter, when he walked you upstairs to your room, both of your steps slow, reluctant, when his gaze lingered on your lips and the smell of him grew distracting, the height of him all-consuming, even then, even though you wanted to, you didn't kiss him. you only bid him a gentle goodnight.

"thank you for tonight," he would say, instead, looping his arms around your neck, hugging you close to his chest. this was so much worse, you thought, as you breathed him in, wrapped your own arms around him and squeezed. the way he held you like he was afraid what would happen if he let go. his hair so messy and his tone so genuine it almost hurt. "sweet dreams, sugar," he said into your hair before pulling away.

even though, that night, you might have dreamed about how his rough hands might feel as they held your soft cheek, how his chapped lips might slot against your glossed mouth. even if you woke up, that next morning, practically sweating. not the sweetest of dreams.

today was your day off. you had plans later with bridget, but you decided to book a haircut and blowout at the salon downtown, since you had the whole morning to yourself. the salon was one place you hadn't been in, yet, and you hadn't had a haircut in months, so you figured now was a good a time as any.

the bell above the door rang when you stepped inside, but no one seemed to notice over the shrill thrum of hair dryers, sinks, and the steady stream of gossip that you appeared to have walked in on.

"she told me her trevor went on a date, julia," one of the stylists said seriously, her eyes expressive as she sectioned her client's head of long curls. "won't stop rambling on and on about her, she says."

your heart jumped in your chest at trevor's name, sunk accordingly. he had been on a date? you weren't sure why you had assumed you were the only girl in his life at the moment, but it stung, nonetheless. you pulled at a thread on your long sleeve, eyes down.

you can't be upset, you told yourself, don't you dare be disappointed-

"oh, honey, how long you been waiting?" one of the stylists called out, making her way over to you and the front desk. "swear you have to throw somethin' at one of us when you come in or we'll never stop talking." she had such an easy way of speaking, a comfortable posture, a genuine face.

"sorry," you said, looking around, still recovering from what you'd overhead.

she just waved you off with a smile. "it's us motormouths who should be apologizing," she said before introducing herself as ginger. "now, what name is your appointment under?"

you told ginger your name, and as soon as you did, her eyes sailed up to meet yours again, wide and bright. she snapped her fingers, getting the room's attention. "you're the doll who stole our baby trevor's heart!"

you blushed furiously, felt the words in your mouth twist and tangle like a toddler's hair. "me? no, that can't be right," you said. there's no way last night counted as a date, you thought. there's no way he's talking about me.

the other stylist just squealed as you were led to a chair. "of course it's you! look at her, julia," she said to the woman in her chair, practically elated, "what a treasure!"

your blush wasn't going anywhere any time soon.

"that boy's been talkin' to 's mama 'bout you, honey," julia said from her chair, her expression knowing. "he's just about smitten, she says."

"and a mother always knows," ginger said, emphasizing her words with hairbrush gestures.

so you spent your appointment getting a couple inches off, hearing about the trouble trevor used to get in when he was younger (apparently alex used to be the biggest troublemaker, though), hearing about how trevor just went around fixing whatever anyone needed fixing.

"swear that sweet boy wouldn't charge a dime if this town'd let him," ginger said as she worked long layers into your hair, "we have to sneak payment into his pockets, and even then he tries to give it back!"

your cheeks burned, your heart heavy with affection as she blew out your hair, leaving it soft and smooth. you paid, said goodbye for about ten minutes, found out just how hard it was to escape salon conversation.

"now go show off for our baby, honey!" someone called out the door after you, making you laugh. you guessed that all the stereotypes about small town hair salons were true.

you went on your weekly hike with bridget, who gave you that understated grin when she saw you. "looking good," she said, bumping her shoulder into yours. "trev doesn't stand a chance."

you rolled your eyes. "didn't get my hair cut for him."

she laughed. "i know," she responded, "but all anyone can talk about this morning is your date last night."

you couldn't help but scoff good-naturedly. "i can't believe people already know about this," you said, "it was literally last night, and it wasn't even a date."

she waved you off. "nobody cares about the logistics. even my girl was moping to me about it. she's got a little crush on her skating instructor."

"trevor teaches your daughter how to skate?" you asked, having never heard of this.

she nodded. "he's the highlight of her week," she said, her eyes soft, picturing her daughter's unabashed smile.

"get in line," you mumbled, covering your face with your hands.

why was everyone so intent on revealing adorable information about trevor to you today? didn't they know he already took up enough of your daily headspace?

"can't somebody tell me he hates animals, or something? or that he's really pretentious about art? or that he has, like, some weird fetish?"

bridget laughed. "sorry, babe," she said, "he's the town's sweetheart."

you were still reeling with all of this information when you got back to the inn, your face rosy from the outside chill, your body pleasantly awake from your walk.

you began up the stairs, humming to yourself, ready to collapse onto your bed, maybe catch up on some reading.

"you followin' me, sugar?"

you looked up, immediately, feeling your pulse in your neck, in your teeth.

there he was, of course, there he was, painting the railing in the stairwell, the sharp smell of paint faint in the air.

all dirtied up from the day, that slouch that only appeared in the late afternoon, that crinkly smile, all of it made him almost too good to be real.

"maybe," you said, like second nature now, after all those times before, his face forcing a tiny smile from your mouth.

you stood just in front of him now, held your breath as he reached up, twirled a strand of your hair around a finger. he let out a low whistle you felt in your stomach.

"lookin' awful pretty tonight," he said, not much more than a whisper as he thumbed the soft ends of your freshly-cut hair.

his words settled like thick caramel on your tongue. "thank you," you mustered, your mind spinning with all of the wonderful things you had heard about him, today.

he bent down to one knee in front of you as you collected your thoughts. "um, what are you doing?" you said, strained, dumb.

he looked up at you through those girlish lashes, smirk heavy on his perfect face. he tugged your foot closer to him. "shoe's untied," he said, gesturing to your sneaker. "may i?"

you blinked at him before nodding, because what alternate universe was this? you tried to imagine any other man you'd known willingly getting on the floor for you, just to tie your shoe. you couldn't.

he tightened your laces with nimble hands.

you cleared your throat. "heard something funny today from the ladies at the salon," you told him, trying to focus on something other than his proximity.

he hummed. "nothin' good, i'll bet," he mused, "ginger loves a good story."

"it was a good story," you said, reveled in the way his expression softened, giving you the courage to press on. he began to tie a double knot. "'bout how you're tellin' your mom we went on a date."

he pulled the bow tight, looked up a you for a second, a guilty, childish grin on his face, caught red-handed. you extended a hand to him, helped him back to his feet.

"oh, yeah," he said smugly, folding his arms across his chest, leaning back against the wall, easy, comfortable. "like how you asked me to dinner, and then cooked for me, and how it 100% was a date-"

you laughed, shook your head. "it was not!" you said, "i never said it was a date!"

he ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek. "call it wishful thinking, then, sugar."

and you couldn't focus too much on what he meant by that, so you just shook your head again. "you're too much," you said, wanting it to come out teasing, but instead there was a breathy sort of desperation behind it.

"yeah?" he asked, that smirk present as ever. you had grown so close to him without realizing it, now just a step away. him leaning back against the wall, you right in front of him, looking up at him.

you nodded, swallowed, your blood hot, your skin prickly, alive.

his eyes fixed you in place, teasing. "too much for you, sugar? can't take it?"

you bit your lip to stop any sound from escaping you, because everything seemed entirely too loud, then. you could hear your heartbeat, you swore you could hear his, the radiator could have been screaming at you. you didn't dare think about just how much you wanted to take.

to stop yourself from doing something much more serious, you simply reached your hand forward, swiped at a spot of paint on his face with your thumb.

your touch against his brow bone felt like an exhale, like melting wax. you could feel his warm breath on your hand as you pulled it back, but then he was looking at you, like that, like you were so, so special, like he would have doused his face in paint just to have your hands wipe it all away, and were you imagining the way his gaze grew fiery?

"trev! old man peters says his sink's still leaking!"

griff's voice rattled down the stairwell, smothering the flames in your eyes, if only just. just enough to break the spell, to pull away, to tell him you'd see him tomorrow for his coffee break, for his hungry gaze to follow you up the stairs until you were out of sight.

and so the routine continued, more butterscotch candies slipped into aprons, more pestering his friends, more slyly asking bridget what she thought about matt (she was deflecting, you'd observed, delighted). more helping with homework and reading in bed and cooking and snapping at old man peters to stop leaving his watch behind.

more stolen touches and longing glances and sideways smiles, backwards hats and work gloves stuffed in pockets, damp hair sticking to your neck, the hem of your skirt brushing against your thigh. more flame and softness and sweetness drenching your frame as he said hello, and goodbye, and sweet dreams, and anything else. that coil inside of you twisted tighter and tighter as you wondered what exactly was holding you back, what exactly you were waiting for.

one day, after work, there was a knock at your door. you'd be lying if you said you weren't a little bit disappointed when you opened it.

"you coming?" griff said, "town hall meeting starts in 5."

you scrunched up your nose. "town hall? what, is it required?"

he smiled, kind. "no, but they're usually a good time," he said, "and trevor's going to be there."

you had your jacket in your hand already. "he's not the reason i'm coming," you said, following him out the door and down the street.

"i won't tell anyone," was all griff replied, his smile understanding and gentle.

you had never been to a town hall meeting before. you'd guessed that the closest thing you could imagine was a student government meeting, which you'd been a part of in college.

this seemed much more laid back, though, taking place in the middle school gymnasium. it looked like almost everyone from town was here. you noticed old man peters, sitting with bridget, her daughter buzzing around from person to person. the salon ladies were talking to pretty much everybody. there was harry, sitting next to his mom. you approached bridget as griff went up to talk to the fire chief, one of his close friends.

soon enough, the meeting began, the first issue on the docket being the prospect of a stoplight on the intersection of drysdale avenue and york street.

bridget yawned, "same issue every meeting," she whispered to you. "always divided down the middle." this time was no different, you observed, the parents in the crowd seemed completely for the stoplight, the older crowd significantly against.

"next issue, a write in from the community, quote," the representative began, reading from notecards, "should the implementation of the 'dibs' rule be observed seriously, unquote." he cleared his throat, looked up to the crowd. "thoughts?"

you stifled an embarrassed laugh, held your face in your hands as bridget rubbed soothing circles in your back. "is this actually a real-life discussion topic?" you asked, incredulous.

"just let them have their fun," she whispered in a way that made her smile evident.

"i think 'dibs' is outdated and juvenile," a woman said, "sets a bad example for the kids."

the man up front was taking notes.

"i think it's cute," bridget piped up from her chair.

"me, too!" her daughter giggled, jumping into her lap.

"alright, i've got two for cute, one for bad influence," the man said, "anyone else?"

"i think it's lame," a very matt-like voice said, gruff, short.

"one for lame," the scribe said aloud.

"well, i think you're lame," that goofy drawl called out, making you pull your head up, look around until you spotted him, near the front. he was swatting matt on the back of the head. "and i learned it from alex, so take it up with him."

his curly-haired friend hid a smirk. "it's a high school move," he explained to the crowd, before turning to face trevor. "we haven't done it in years."

"until now," trevor amended, "but you guys understand. you've seen her. you've talked to her."

ginger put her hand over her heart as if swooning.

someone coughed. your face was burning up. bridget nudged you gently.

"she's here, trev," griff said, to which the fire chief let out a hearty laugh.

"really?" he turned to face the crowd, his voice excited, hopeful, searching. "where are you, sugar?"

you raised your hand, of all things, immediately wanted to smack yourself. "hey," you said, mousy.

"hey," he parroted, mocking, but of course not maliciously. his smile broke you apart.

and then you were having a conversation with several rows of people in chairs between you, on a gymnasium floor.

"you're the only one with the dibs curse on you," he said, "so what's your take on it? should we abolish the practice for good? is it outdated?"

you swallowed, were looking only at him as the scribe sat at the front, pen at the ready. "well," you began, "it works, from what i can tell." his smile put you together again. "so it can't be that outdated."

his eyes shone, only for you. "you heard her," he said, "case closed."

"are we actually still talking about this?" old man peters asked, to bridget, but much too loudly.

the rest of the meeting passed, absolutely delivering on laughs and nonsense, as promised.

"last thing before we go," the man said, "does everyone have a ride to the away game tomorrow?"

you leaned over to bridget. "what's that?"

"the rec hockey team is away this weekend," she whispered.

"rec hockey?" you said, confused, "like kids?"

she shook her head. "like kids, yes, but not kids."

"sugar, do you have a ride?" trevor's voice rang clear against the mumbled chatter of the room.

you looked up, met his eyes again. "uh, i don't think i'm going?" you said.

there was a collective gasp, followed by silence. your eyes widened. "babe," bridget whisper-screamed at you. "everyone goes."

you cleared your throat, realizing your grave error. "well, then i don't have a ride."

"you can ride with me, honey," ginger said, sweetly, with a warning in her eye.

"trevor has to go super early since he's playing," bridget whispered from next to you. you nodded, signaling that you had heard her.

"thank you!" you called out.

rides were sorted, the meeting ended, everyone saying their goodbyes, folding chairs scraping against the waxy floor. trevor and his friends caught up with you and bridget on your way out.

trevor slung a heavy arm around your shoulders that you couldn't help but lean into. he smelled like sawdust and something citrusy. "i didn't know you played hockey," you said, looking up at him curiously, not letting yourself ruminate on how good he felt slotted against your side.

he shrugged.

bridget scoffed. "he's good, too," she said, "i hate to pump his tires, but only the best teacher for my baby girl." she pressed a kiss to the cheek of her smiley daughter, whom she had hoisted up onto her hip. "all of them play," she said, a vague gesture to the group. "lit it up in high school."

"not all of them are as good, though," trevor said, which caused some annoyed groans.

"what about heartbreaker alex, over here?" you teased.

"heartbreaker alex has grown up since junior year," alex said, soft spoken. "and it's not my fault my hair looks like this."

the shortest friend of the group, cole, the one with the loudest laugh, whom you had come to rely upon for book recommendations, put a hand in line with his brow bone, as if blocking out the sun to search for something.

"what are you doing?" alex asked.

"oh, me?" cole said, "just looking for all the girls you must be getting, since you've still got all that hair."

alex rolled his eyes, the group laughed.

"what about you, matt?" you asked as trevor held open the door, all of you stepping out into the night air. "i've heard the team's got a perfect record for dance invites. any high school stories?"

matt didn't say anything for a second, but bridget laughed. "you're really telling people that, trev, as if i didn't ask him freshman year?" she nodded towards matt, who was actually blushing, you thought, but the dark made it hard to tell. "was a tough sell, eh? he was so quiet when i asked i thought he pretending that i wasn't there."

"oh, we remember," cole said, tone alight with understanding. "funny how we grow up, but so much stays the sa-" he blew out a breath when matt elbowed him in the gut.

you smiled to yourself. "i'll see all of you tomorrow, for the game, then?" you said, the inn now steps away.

goodbyes rang out, and you made to remove yourself from trevor's embrace, but he only spun you back into his chest, pulling you close, his arms now wrapped around your back, your nose against his breastbone. you breathed in, melted into him, squeezed him back.

"did you mean it?" he said, soft, so only you would hear him.

you mumbled your confusion into his chest.

"when you said it was working? did you mean it?"

your heart jumped, his words so vulnerable you couldn't look at him. "i meant it," you whispered into his bright shirt. "you're working on me, trevor." you felt his lips brush against your hair, featherlight, before he let you go.

"sweet dreams, sugar," he said, and you walked back to your room with wobbly legs and an overactive heart.

the following day, ginger graciously gave you a ride to the next town over. she, of course, chatted you up the entire time, which you welcomed.

"i know i must be super late to the party here," you said, carefully, picking at your nails, "but what's the story behind bridget and matt?"

ginger tsked. "we're a bad influence on you, honey," she said, taking a right. "you're gonna be a big mouth like me in no time."

you laughed. "it's only 'cause matt's so obvious about it," you told her, "they've known each other forever, and i learned yesterday that she asked him to their freshman dance." you trailed off, hoping that ginger would take your cue.

she nodded, smiled fondly. "our bridget was always such a spitfire," she said, "always going for what she wanted. smart as a whip, too, but you know that."

you nodded. you did.

"and she could have had anyone, but she wanted our matthew, and he wasn't a sight for sore eyes then, like he is now."

is matt good-looking? you'd thought to yourself. you surely hadn't noticed. perhaps you were distracted. perhaps your gaze always wandered.

"but bridget marched right up, asked him to the dance, and the poor boy was so stunned it took him a full minute to say yes." she shook her head, lost in the memory.

"did they ever date, like for real?" you asked, enraptured.

she frowned. "no, i don't think so, at least. bridget was always bouncing around flings, trying out guys for a few weeks, then cuttin' 'em loose." her smile grew wistful. "then she had her darling girl, middle of senior year. dad booked it, never looked back. don't think she's been with anyone since."

you frowned, too, hating the thought of someone abandoning your friend, as lovely and wonderful as she was. what a privilege it would be to be a part of her family.

"and matt?" you asked, as the car pulled into the parking lot. you ran your palms up and down your jeans.

ginger whistled. "that boy's been starry-eyed over her since grade five," she said, "but me and the girls aren't surprised he thinks he doesn't have a shot. his self-esteem's never been the highest, not like the rest of 'em."

"not like cole, who swears he could land a plane, if it came around to it?" you said, grinning.

ginger laughed. "exactly. and not like alex, who was never without a girlfriend, and not like your trevor, who's never needed anyone to tell him how great he is."

you sucked on your teeth. "but we do, anyways," you reminded her.

"that we do, honey," she finished, putting the car in park. "let's go cheer on those knuckleheads, shall we?"

the rink was colder than you thought it would be. the walls were practically made of aluminum foil. you wrapped your arms around yourself, blew out a foggy breath, followed ginger to the away section, absolutely packed with everyone you recognized.

as you settled into the stands, your eyes immediately searched for trevor.

"he's number 11," bridget said, coming to stand next to you.

you rolled your eyes. "and what number is matt?"

she shoved you, playfully, but when spoke, it was bashful. "12," she said. "cole's 22 and alex is 39. police chief is 8, fireman spence is the goalie, and griff is the ref."

you furrowed your brow. "isn't that a conflict of interest?" you asked.

she huffed in a laugh. "if anything, it's a disadvantage for us."

the game started, and you realized very early on that maybe trevor hadn't been lying when he said not all of them are as good. he practically flew around the ice, graceful, mesmerizing. and it was obvious that he wasn't looking to show off, either, that he was just playing to have fun, and if he really wanted to, he could run the scoresheet up into oblivion.

you could feel bridget smile beside you. "yeah," she sighed. "it's pretty crazy."

"he could play professionally," you breathed.

she shrugged. "he's happy," she said simply.

cole scored twice, the other team clawed their way back in. griff threw alex in the box for boarding, which old man peters, even with his granddaughter in his lap, would not let go, keeping a one-man ref, you suck! chant going long after the power play was over.

"does he know it's griff?" you asked bridget.

"of course he does," she said. "he'll buy him a beer after this."

such was small town life, you supposed.

in the end, fireman spence made some crucial saves, keeping it tied late into the third. with about a minute left, trevor made an unreal, practically magical pass to matt, who finished it off in a one-timer that sunk into the back of the net.

the crowd erupted. you and bridget jumped up and down, holding each other as the goal horn sounded.

the team went through the line in celebration, then skating by the away section before the next face off.

trevor blew you a kiss. you shook your head at him, but couldn't wipe the smile off of your face.

the game ended in a win, and the town migrated over to the local bar. you busied yourself with harry's mom, telling her that no, she had nothing to worry about, yes, harry was quiet, but he was kind as anything, and that was most important.

everyone cheered when the team walked in. you clapped along with them, feeling a smile tug at your lips as soon as your eyes locked on trevor.

his eyes found yours immediately, that lazy grin following as he squeezed past people to get to you.

you met him halfway, a hazy neon light over your heads, making color dance in his eyes like starlight. his long hair was damp, curly at the ends in a way that made you want to reach up and tug at them.

"speechless, eh, sug?" he teased, shrugging one shoulder with exaggerated arrogance. "i know, my play tends to evoke that reaction from people. i-"

you scrunched your mouth to the side, smacked him lightly in the chest. "god forbid i try to think of something nice to say to you," you said, smiling. you made to pull you hand back, but his warm, wide palm came up to cover it, holding it against his chest.

you exhaled, looked up at him, unsure.

"what was your favorite part?" he asked, those shining eyes careful. "did you like cole's between-the-legs? or maybe my last assist?" he winked. "always a crowd favorite."

suddenly confidence welled up inside of you, a vault. but we tell him anyways, you had said. that we do.

tell him, the overhead lights whispered.

"when you blew me a kiss," you said, reaching your free hand up to cup his jaw, textured under your touch from his five-o'clock-shadow. "that was my favorite part."

flame crept into his gaze abruptly, suddenly, shockingly. he settled his other hand on your hip, pulled you closer to him, his grip making your breath catch. "was it?" there was a roughness to his voice that felt tangible.

you nodded slowly, speaking to his mouth. you weren't scared. you weren't running. you weren't stalling. your skin was humming, your blood felt hot. he was so perfect against you, his hand over yours somehow the most intimate touch you could remember.

he ducked his head to yours, just a breath away, so you could see the gold in his eyes. "let me do you one better," he rasped, waiting for your single nod before finally crushing his mouth to yours in a kiss that felt like early sunrises, slow and meaningful and only the beginning.

you pushed up onto your tiptoes, looped both of your arms around his neck, tugging him closer, closer, as he kept one hand on your hip, the other grasping the back of your neck, keeping you from collapsing into him.

kissing your ex had felt almost robotic, scientific, stiff in an endearing way at best, stiff in an awkward way in reality.

there was nothing stiff about this, nothing scientific about him. this was all feeling, all malleable, all calloused hands and chapped lips. he kissed like someone who had to work for it, like someone who didn't have to prove anything to you but wanted to, anyways.

just that was enough for you to sigh against him, the fact that there were other people around the only thing stifling your soft moan.

he smiled into your mouth, like a low-spoken secret between the two of you. "taste like butterscotch," he mumbled against your lips, pulling away only just enough to make sure his words didn't disappear unheard down your throat, almost drowsily. "you like those candies i give you, sugar?"

your chest rose and fell against his. the low music in the background roared in your ears, the neon light making him look like some stained glass thing worth kneeling for. "like 'em because you leave 'em for me," you said, your fingertips tracing the top of his spine.

his eyes shimmered. "can i tell you something?"

you nodded.

he hummed, gave a guilty sort of smile. "gave 'em to you because i didn't like the taste of 'em," he started, smirk growing wider. "and i wanted to convince myself to hold off on kissin' you. not to rush you, you know."

you understood, and your swollen lips quirked at the story, but your eyes flashed with something like hurt. "you don't like the way i taste, trevor?" even if it was his own doing, you suddenly wanted to brush your teeth.

"that's the thing." he ran a steady thumb along your hairline. "think my plan backfired, 'cause butterscotch's my new favorite flavor." his thumb reached your chin, tilting it up to his mouth again. "can't get enough of it," he murmured, a man possessed, barely audible as he kissed you again, this time with a softness that cut like a dagger.

you swore your head was still spinning the next day. what was supposed to be just another shift at the diner quickly turned into a flurry of questions, of neighbors looking for a side of gossip with their french toast, of line cooks swearing there was something different about you.

it was hard to answer anyone, to do anything, honestly, when it felt like you were floating, like your head was far, far away, up in the clouds.

harry gave you a fist bump when he saw you. old man peters told you in a stern tone that public bars were no place for fornication, to which an ecstatic bridget patted his shoulder and reminded him that it was only a (sort of) innocent kiss.

she pulled all the details out of you, lit up as you flushed and stumbled over your memories.

the police chief made some joke about that boy being a bad influence when you accidentally brought him whole milk instead of soy milk for his coffee.

ginger and the girls were like some insatiable beast that only let you be when you reminded them that if they kept you much longer, the diner would go hungry.

of course, your heart instinctively fluttered when that tell-tale gust of loud laughter burst through the door, along with the drag of heavy work boots, the shuffling of canvas outerwear, the shoving of gloves into back pockets.

you made your way to the table with their regular pot of coffee, met trevor's dancing gaze almost sheepishly.

"morning, guys," you said, smiling at all of them.

they chimed their chorus of good mornings, pouring their coffee into mugs themselves, as they always insisted on.

"so, what's new?" cole asked, his head resting on his fists. "probably nothing, right?"

alex and matt hid their laughs.

you rolled your eyes, smiled nonetheless. trevor had a hat on, today, making his hair curl out from the bottom of the brim. you tucked a curling lock behind his ear, ran your nails soothingly along the hair at the nape of his neck.

anyone watching would have seen the way his gaze melted like milk chocolate, how his shoulders softened, his posture relaxing completely into your small touch.

he looked up at you, eyes so soaked in affection it spilled down his face like mascara-stained tears. "i missed you," he said.

his friends groaned, as if they'd heard this a million times. suddenly, with a blush, you had a guess as to what his morning had been like. perhaps he had been just as distracted as you.

"i missed you, too," you said, because it was the truth.

"he almost dropped a crate on my foot this morning," matt said, bitterly.

you put a hand over your heart. "how tragic." you looked up, making eye contact with your friend across the diner. "hey, bridge! matt almost hurt his foot this morning. has science found a cure for that, yet?"

she huffed a laugh as she approached, shook her head at matt when she stood in front of the table. she held the back of her hand to his forehead, as if checking for a fever. "are you sure you're okay, sweet boy? this sounds serious," she joked.

matt had paled. trevor pulled you into his lap and you hid your laugh in his collarbone.

"'m fine," matt bit out, to which bridget smiled.

"thank god, that was close," she said. her gaze wandered, landed on something out the window. she squinted. "did somebody dig up some of the flowers outside?" she asked.

"dig?" alex mused, "maybe rip is a better word, eh, trev?"

"right. almost forgot." trevor held you in his lap with one hand, reached the other to the side. suddenly several flowers were being held in front of you, thin, spidery roots still intact. "sugar, will you go to the valentine's day skate with me?"

you smiled, wide and toothy, touched one hand to his face as the other grasped the humble, earthy bouquet. "of course i will, handsome," you said, "what's the valentine's day skate?"

"pta event, tomorrow," bridget said, looking on with interest. "whole town shows up."

"this town shows up for everything," you replied.

she smiled fondly. "heart-shaped balloons and fruit punch and ice skates. what's not to love?"

you turned your neck to look back up at trevor. "'m honored to have been on the receiving end of one of your famous invitations," you teased, "even if it's not for a dance." his delight rumbled into your shoulders, the back of your thighs, firm and warm.

cole yawned, stretched. "duty calls, fellas," he said, making to get up.

you reluctantly pushed up from trevor's lap, quickly pouring his untouched mug into a to-go cup. the team filed out with their typical string of thank yous and goodbyes, matt's extra glance at bridget met with a returning smile.

then it was you and trevor, as the morning break always ended, like clockwork, like a bedtime story that was comforting in its predictability. he tucked a bill in your apron, several candies, the weight of them alone making you smile.

"did i tell you how pretty you look today?" he told you.

"no," you mused, your hands clasped behind your back, shifting on your feet.

he hummed. "so pretty, sugar, never been so nervous to ask someone out," he admitted, that smug smile lazy across his face.

you tilted your head. "don't be nervous," you told him. "you're the easiest yes i've ever had."

at your words he ducked his wide shoulders down to you, flipped his hat backwards on his head so as not to impede you in any way, kissed you with a rough palm on your soft face, your hands still behind your back as you met him up on your toes.

a different kiss, one so lovely, still, soft and beautiful, drenched in daylight.

would your head ever stop spinning, when it came to him? would you ever come down from the clouds, again? even if you did, would there not be cumulus tufts in your hair, wisps of cirrus in your lashes?

he was proving it difficult, especially that next day, the fourteenth of february.

you had the morning to yourself, existing slowly and methodically, reading and running errands, finally starting to get ready for your date in the late afternoon.

before you knew it, there was a knock at your door, just as you had swung your jacket on. you swung it open to find him leaning against the doorframe, the picture of ease, shoulders drooping the way they always did after a working morning.

"ready to go?" you asked, making to close the door behind you before pressing up on your toes to kiss him on the cheek. he caught your face in a hand before you could, though, steering your lips towards his mouth instead. you laughed against his lips. "greedy," you taunted, pulling away, letting yourself lean into his warm side.

"got no idea, sugar," he admitted, voice twinged with a day of speaking. you walked together to the high school ice skating rink, only a few minutes away, the brisk february air biting at your nose, your ears. you caught up on the morning, what book you had finished, how annoying ginger's husband was being about the state of his rain gutters.

when you entered the rink, finally, pushing forward the old doors, you couldn't help but smile, and trevor couldn't help but watch you.

everyone was here, of course they were. balloons hung from the top of the glass, streamers decorating every archway and spare inch. a massive table of themed refreshments was just next to the bleachers.

it looked like something out a ninety's film, mixed with the unique small town charm and wintery love you had come to know so personally.

you and trevor quickly got your skates on, all lingering touches and knowing smiles, and headed for the ice.

you were shaky at first, but his hands were so tight on yours, you knew there wasn't a chance he would let you fall. he spun you around the rink easily, twirling you like a ballroom dance floor, ever the show-off, anything to make you laugh.

"hey, harry!" you called out, at one point, noticing your host-friend helping a taller, skinner kid his age onto the ice. he waved, his eyes glittery in a way you recognized. is that jason? you mouthed. harry nodded, smiled shyly. you gave him an impressed thumbs up, trevor whistled.

you asked trevor how he got into hockey, watched how his mind waltzed behind his eyes when he talked about outdoor rinks with his friends in elementary school, how even piled-on scarves and hats and puffer jackets didn't stop that flying feeling.

significance would gather in your stomach, butterflies morphing into something much more serious, the kind of flame you'd find in a living room fireplace, in the hearts of teenage lovers.

you skated by cole, scooping up the snow he had made with quick starts and stops, and alex, whose neck was becoming the new home of said snow.

alex grunted, immediately breaking into stride to catch a fleeing cole, whose bright and clear laugh echoed under the roof like church bells.

the fire and police departments had started a relay race, ginger and her girls had formed a circle close to the hot chocolate.

old man peters held his sleeping granddaughter in his lap, bouncing his knee gently, both of their smiles blissful.

trevor's hand found your far hip, pulling you into his warm side. you sighed, looked up at him as you let your fingers trace along his jaw.

"touchy today, sugar, hm?" he said into your hair, a rumble to his tone that told you he liked it.

you hummed, nodded. "you just look so..." you trailed off, in thought, thinking about what, exactly, you meant to say. he looked what? practically edible? like an ocean you wanted to drown in?

how could you tell him you'd been avoiding looking at his hands, for fear you'd blurt something out about wanting them around your neck?

you just swallowed, cleared your throat. his smirk was a flash of teeth.

"you feelin' okay?" he cooed. "should i take you home?"

you found yourself nodding, even though you hadn't been at the rink for long.

"yeah?" he mocked, taunting, his hand on your hip suddenly firm, burning.

bridget's laugh cut through the sizzling air like a stream of cold hose water. you both turned to look at where she now sat, having obviously fallen onto the ice. she peered up at matt through her blonde bangs. "some teacher you are," she laughed, "i knew trev was the right choice for my girl's lessons."

matt shook his head, a barely-there smile on his thin lips. he offered her a hand, steadily helped her to her feet, an almost undetectable shake in his breathing as bridget grabbed onto his forearm for extra stability. "alright, smart ass," he mused, "no help for you, then."

he made to drop her hands, to leave her on her own, but she latched onto him tighter. "yeah right," she said, "you're not going anywhere, sweet boy."

cole's laugh sparkled at matt's flush.

you and trevor were already on the way out, bidding your short goodbyes, half-assed excuses about not feeling well given and taken with knowing eye-rolls.

he walked you back to the inn, up the stairs, his hands on you ever-so-distracting, his voice a careless rasp, your heart beating heavy in your chest.

you finally made it to your closed door, your back against it as he looked down at you with that heated gaze, his frame boxing you in.

"well, get some rest, sugar," he said, slowly, smiling. "since you're not feeling well." he twirled a strand of your hair around a finger.

you sputtered. "what? trevor-"

his eyes widened in mock-surprise. "oh, is there something you want?" he asked.

you clutched at his shirt with your fist, pulled. "please."

"please, what, sugar?" he asked, so smug you wanted to punch him. "gotta tell me what you want, hm?"

"you," you whined, but that wasn't enough.

"oh, is that it?" he drawled, ducking his head down to you, so close, but not close enough, not even a little.

you worked your jaw, so frustrated. "just," you tried, "just please, touch me, trevor, i just wanna feel you."

he smiled, held the side of your face in his palm. "am touchin' you, sugar," he said, "tellin' me this isn't enough?"

you ran your tongue along the inside of your cheek, groaned at his feigned confusion. "shut up," you breathed, his mouth an inch from yours.

"make me," he bit back, and then you were kissing him. you swore your lips would be charred, later, as if in proof. you reached a hand behind you, twisted open your door, while the other rooted in his hair, tugged him inside your room as he moaned against your lips.

one of his hands grasped the back of your neck, the other a bruising grip in your side, walking you backwards until the backs of your knees felt the blunt edge of the bed.

you barely registered as he reached under you, flipped you onto his lap, your legs straddling his hips as he sat down on the comforter, far too caught up in this kiss, somehow still so different from ones you has shared before. so charged you felt the air might combust at any second, that, despite his relentless repairs, there was no way this inn could withstand the way he was kissing you, now. surely, the roof would cave in under the weight of your want, water would sear straight through the pressurized pipes.

he smiled against your mouth when you started to rock your hips back and forth across his lap, just so desperate for something, anything.

your exhales came out short, little pants as you reveled in the little friction you were getting against his firm thigh, covered in his heavy work pants, nothing close to what you really wanted, but something, at least.

mercifully, he moved your clothes aside, rocked you more forcefully, making the sensation practically blissful. you dropped your heavy head to his neck, moaned into it.

"oh, sugar," he cooed, and you squeezed your eyes shut. "so greedy for it, hm?"

you nodded into his neck, the tough texture combined with the heavy weight of his thigh catching you in just the right spot, urging a whimper from your throat.

"makin' a mess of me, yeah? could cum just from my thigh?" he said, almost like he felt sorry for you, but you could hear the smile in his voice. you bit down gently on the space between his neck and shoulder, your small retaliation, smiled at his groan.

you slowed your rhythm, picked your head up, let your chest rise and fall as you looked at him in the face, searched his eyes.

his face was slightly flushed, his eyes only just a bit glassy, but he looked at you like you were a wonder, like some divine power had made her way into his lap.

you pressed a feather-light kiss to the corner of his mouth, loved the way you could feel his smile crinkle and widen under your lips.

"please, trevor," you whispered, your touch so soft around his neck. "please just give me what i want."

you shifted on his lap until you felt him, hard and hot and heavy underneath you. his voice came out with a strain. "anything, sugar," he told you, "just tell me."

you lifted your hips up, could feel how wet you were, could tell you had probably left a trace of yourself on his pants. "wanna cum on your cock, trevor," you breathed, couldn't help your sly grin when he immediately began to tug his clothes aside. "please, please let me. i know i'm so greedy-"

he was nodding like he understood as he angled your hips up higher, shifted you so that you sat right above him as he pumped himself up and down, once, twice, so obviously ready for you. "you are, sugar," he said, so eager it almost sounded like a whine, "but i'll give you anything you want, swear it." his hands found your hips. "just promise you'll only be greedy for me, hm?"

you sank down onto him with a nodded promise, bit your lip at the slow, scorching pressure, the pleasant stretch that pulled at your middle, that you felt in your toes. you blinked, trying to get used to the sensation, trying to muffle the groan in your mouth.

"fuck," he moaned, his fingers clutching at the flesh of your hips like you might float away if he let go, "all the way, sugar, 'atta girl." you huffed a short breath when he was all the way in.

words felt far away, suspended in bubbles that whirled around your head.

"speechless, eh?" he teased, and you had a sense of deja vu. "don't worry, sugar. common re-"

and you could have growled at him for alluding to the fact that other girls had felt this, that there were other people in the world who knew what this felt like, so you fitted a delicate hand over his mouth and rolled your hips up and back on him until he was the speechless one, moans falling from his mouth, his brow pinched in pleasure.

"don't worry," you breathed, your mouth an inch from his ear. "common reaction."

you began to move your hips up and down faster as the stretch gave way to something dizzyingly good, as he began to thrust back up into you. so hard and fast, but he held you like something precious. his rhythm built until your mouth fell open, until sweat shone on the high points of his face, until time melted away, until you were reminded of what you'd mistaken him for when you'd first seen him, all that time ago - some ancient sculpture. a work of art.

he cursed as your clit caught on his pubic bone, the friction so overwhelming, and you clenched down on him. "give it to me, sugar," he said, but the strain in his voice made it sound like a plea. "fuck, let me hear you, yeah?" his tone grew gentle. "been wantin' to hear you for so long."

you tightened around him further at his small admission, let your nails rake down his neck, probably a little too hard. he grunted, thrusted harder, shifted you closer to him.

you moaned his name at the new angle, one you felt in the tips of your ears, your hairline, your tongue.

you were so close, so impossibly almost there. "please make me cum," you whined, "please, need you so bad." your exhale was practically pained as you ran your fingers over the red marks on his neck your nails had left. "don't i deserve it, baby?"

he grunted, and it was different. you felt his stomach and thighs clench, his hips sputter as his head spun with the fact that you'd gone right to begging him, skipped the asking part. he pressed his hand to your lower stomach, let his thumb catch against your clit, sending you over the edge in moments. "'course you deserve it, sugar," he rasped, gravelly, in your ear as you rode out your high, his thrusts growing wild. "been so good."

you clenched down on him, forcing his own orgasm, fast and all-consuming, the smell of him everywhere, mixed with your perfume. your exhales were warm and heavy, transparent clouds that settled on the floor of your room, making it every bit the dreamland it had become in your mind.

he held you so close to him as he pulled you to his chest, leaned you both back on your bed. you stared up at the ceiling.

about time, one of the tiles whispered, holding a crisp fiver.

couldn't have waited another week? the losing tile muttered bitterly.

you smiled as his rough hand found your face, tilted it towards him. he was smiling. your stomach fluttered as you felt your own mouth pull wider.

"what?" he asked, his voice rough, drowsy with use.

you shook your head. "nothing," you said, "just you." your eyes crinkled under the weight of your happiness. "i'm callin' dibs on you."

his eyes lit up as he pulled you in for another kiss, slow and overflowing with meaning. he hummed. "butterscotch," he whispered against your mouth. "my favorite."

fin.

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